Part Eighteen

The announcement crackled over the loudspeaker. "US Airways flight 5931 from Boston has now arrived, on time. Those waiting to welcome the arriving passengers please wait behind the yellow line."

Ray Karn folded his newspaper back into a neat rectangle and glanced at his watch. With a scowl he disagreed with the "on time" declaration. "It was 'not' on time. 6:33 is three minutes late." Standing with a snort, he tossed the paper onto his seat for the benefit of the next prisoner of the airport terminal and stared out the window.

After a few minutes the passengers began to file out of the small commuter plane. A trio of businessmen, several couples attired in vacation clothes, an elderly gentleman whose actions radiated impatience, a family with two small children in tow, a purple haired woman who looked like she was ready to kiss the ground... Ray crossed his arms. "Keith, you gold plated pain in the ass, you better be onboard..."

Keith Shellenbarger appeared in the hatchway and right behind him, his son Mark.

"Double header." Karn thought to himself. He took a step back, allowing the friends and relatives of the other passengers to surge forward to meet their loved ones at the door. A bit of a warm glow welled up in him as the pair of toddlers came through the door and caught sight of their grandparents. Their enthusiastic shouts of "Pappy! Mam-ma!" sparkled through the air.

"Pappy." Ray echoed. "That's cute." For a moment he tried to contemplate as to what his grandchild would call him, but dismissed the happening as too far in the future to consider. He rolled his shoulders and turned his attention back toward the door.

Mark Shellenbarger came through first and promptly veered to the right, making his way down the concourse. Ray started to call out to him but was stopped by a barely perceivable shake of Keith's head.

"Now what the hell is going on?" Karn exhaled in exasperation.

"Ray." Keith sat down his carry-on and extended his hand.

"Keith." Karn grunted and accepted the handshake. "Where's your boy heading?"

"Did you recognize that man in the black coat?"

Karn's eyes narrowed. "No, but you must have."

"Quentin Travers, head of field operations for the Council of Watchers."

Ray's eyes became slits. "Are you sure?"

"How many 'Joe Blows' wear a Watcher's signet ring?" Shellenbarger growled. He adjusted his coat and started to usher Ray toward the corner of the waiting area, out of earshot of the others nearby. "Last Spring, I reacquainted myself with our file on the Council and that sucker's picture is front row, center. I knew something like this would happen since there is now a family tie between the Alliance and Council."

"My future son-in-law's father is no longer working for them."

"Then why is Travers here?"

In a tone underlined with a hiss Ray offered his one and only conclusion. "One of Matt's guests, a Miss Buffy Summers is the Slayer and she is accompanied by her Watcher, a man named Wesley Wyndam-Pryce."

"Great. That's just fucking great." Keith growled. "Then Travers is here to recruit a mole."

"Possible."

"Probable!" Keith shot back. "So we've got an alleged ex-Watcher and his boy, the current Watcher and Slayer and 'what' the hell else hanging around?"

"The Slayer's mother, Joyce Summers, who is involved with the elder Giles and a young witch named Willow Rosenberg."

"What's her standing?"

"Slayer's best friend."

"Check." Shellenbarger's lips became a thin line. "Is she part of the group that assisted the Slayer back in California? Along with the Alliance's newest member, Mr. Alexander Harris?"

"Confirmed."

"You have a hell of a mess here, Ray." Keith stated with no small amount of menace.

"Maybe, but it's about to bite you in the ass too." Ray shot back. "I saved the best for last, your ex-daughter-in-law is getting tight with Wyndam-Pryce."

"Renée?"

"How many ex-wives does Mark have?" Ray snotted. "And, by the way, yesterday she showed him around Alliance headquarters."

Keith bristled. "I though she was smarter than that."

Ray rubbed his chin and smiled. "Guess not."

"So they are targeting either Renée with this Wyndam-Pryce operative or...." He jabbed a finger into Ray's chest. "... they are going to use Karen through her marriage into the Watcher line."

"Karen... is 'pure' Alliance." Ray rumbled, giving the offending finger a slap away from his person.

"Not anymore." Keith hissed, taking another step into Ray's space. "Karen and Renée are the ones becoming involved with Council agents."

Ray went nose to nose with Shellenbarger. "Matthew might be a piece of shit, but he's not Council."

"But his father is. I don't care what you have been told, the Council does 'not' let any of their own go." Keith's face went to a stone mask, with only the eyes betraying his emotion of anger. "I know how I would do this if was in their shoes. A wedding - perfect opportunity to recruit and plant a double agent. Everyone's here, everyone's guard is down, everyone has a few beers under their belt. Optimum conditions for intelligence gathering and planting the seeds."

Karn rubbed his hand back through his hair. "So what are we going to do?"

"First things first. We find out where Travers is heading." Shellenbarger turned on his heel and headed down the concourse.

In silence the two paced the length of the corridor, coming to a halt as Mark rounded the corner twenty feet ahead of them. The opening line of his report summed it up nicely. "What a bastard."

Both Ray and Keith gave Mark a nod as a sign to continue. The younger Shellenbarger took a glance around and curled his lip. "He went straight to luggage claim, picked up one medium size suitcase and went out to the taxi-stand. There he went to the head of the line, butted in ahead of that woman with the purple hair who was on the plane and got in the cab. He was in there for less than thirty seconds and then got out shouting something about the driver being a highwayman." Mark chuckled under his breath. "Too cheap for the taxi, he then went over to the payphone and dialed a number. I got close enough to him to hear that he called the Birch Ridge Inn to demand a pick-up from their courtesy van."

"The Birch Ridge Inn is up in Sherburne." Ray interjected. "Smart move, lessens the possibility that someone would spot him by chance."

Keith gave his head a grim nod. "And that proves he's here on Council business."

"One thing is odd." Mark added. "He I.D.'ed himself on the phone as Quentin Travers. So he's not registered under an alias."

"That's because he's just here as a handler not as an operative." Keith puffed his cheeks and blew out a long exhale. "We need to find out what the hell they are putting into motion."

"We can use Renée as a source." Ray considered.

Mark's jaw dropped. "Renée?!"

A smile flickered across Ray's face. "She's dating one of them. Out sightseeing and Lord knows what else with the Watcher."

"Renée?! 'My' Renée?!"

Keith waved his hand between the two. "Shutup Mark. Remember, you're divorced. And Ray, tell me about this witch that came in."

"Redhead, about nineteen, twenty..."

"Single?" Keith interrupted.

"Confirmed."

"Two can play at this game." Keith gave his son a slap on the shoulder. "Boy, you're going to have a date tomorrow night."

Ray shook his head. "Willow is a good kid. She's just along for the ride."

"Nobody, and I mean 'nobody' connected with the Council in any way, shape or form is a 'good kid'." Keith snapped. "Is that clear Mr. Karn?"

"Loud and clear." Karn snapped back. "But I still don't like it."

******

Karen let out a long sigh. "And he's still mad at me for going away to college. Then you pile my getting married on top of that and he won't even look me in the eye."

"Well, you two were together for a long time." Willow considered. "It probably, you know, really hurt him when you said goodbye."

"I tried to make him understand." Karen sadly added. "But..."

"But he wouldn't listen." Buffy finished. "Guys are like that."

"Yeah, they are." Karen held a hand palm up and waved it around. "I never though he would hold a grudge for five years."

"Maybe you should invite him to the wedding?" Willow offered. "Let him see how happy you are with Matt. I think that..."

"He's not coming to the wedding, and that's final." Matt bluntly interrupted.

Buffy tossed a little gas onto the fire. "Why not? Karen's known him longer than she's known you, and you're gonna be there."

Rupert exchanged a glance with Joyce and then slid his own comment in. "You could allow him to sit beside the guest book where he could offer his opinion of the events to each of the guests."

Matt rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "Whose side are you on Old Man?"

Willow continued to scratch Sherman behind the ears. "He'd be a good kitty if you invited him. Wouldn't you Sherman?" With a grin she pretended that the feline had answered her. "He just said that he would be good and not say anything mean about his mommy getting married."

Sherman pressed his head a bit harder toward Willow's touch and revved up his purr.

"That cat is nutso." Matt snorted. "And he's getting worse."

"Just because he thinks you're a jerk?" Buffy deadpanned. "Animals can sense things so maybeeeee...." She let the rest of the slam hang in midair as Matt worked up a glare.

Ethan drifted over to Willow and with a wicked grin knelt in front of the chair. "Hello Sherman, it's me again. Would you like to play?" He reached out and drew one finger down the feline's spine.

Sherman hissed and rocketed off Willow's lap leaving a trail of welts and pinprick scratches on her thighs.

"Are you okay?!" Karen and the others loudly asked in unison as Willow came up off the chair rubbing her legs and making squeaking noises.

"What in the devil?!" Ray yelled as he opened the door just in time for a tabby striped missile to shoot between his ankles. "Karen! Sherman just got out!"

Matt tossed his hands into the air. "He went ballistic. Went off the deep end, clawed up Willow and blew out of here. That cat needs to clean up its act before the baby gets here or I'll take it out back and..."

"You will not!" Karen came to her feet shouting. "I've had him since I was ten and..."

"It's not gonna claw up the kid!"

Karen shook her head. "He would never do something like that!"

"And he could suck the baby's breath out of him!" Matt spit. "I've heard about that happening."

Rupert got between Matt and Karen. "Matthew, that's an old wives tale."

Ethan felt a pang of guilt. "Shit. I was just... damn, damn, damn... don't do anything to the animal... it was me, not the silly cat!"

Willow stopped hopping around. "Uh.. I'm okay. He didn't mean to hurt me. Cat's jump and I know they like to jump and maybe I just rubbed his ears too hard and.."

"Never a dull moment around your place, Ray." Keith observed.

Karen let an obviously annoyed tone enter her voice. "Hi Keith..." She turned and saw the other half of the company. "...and hi Mark."

"Karen." The older man came up to her and smiled. "Congratulations are in order, doubly in order from what I've heard. When are you due?"

"June 13th." She answered, stepping away and motioning to Matt. "I've got to go find Sherman. Matt, the cat carrier is in the upstairs hall closet."

"Yeah." Matt muttered. "I'll get it."

"Everyone, this is Keith Shellenbarger and his son Mark." Ray then pointed in turn to his house guests and made the rest of the introductions.

"So nice to meet you." Joyce said as she shook hands with the elder Shellenbarger.

"Pleasure." Rupert sincerely said, giving Keith his hand.

Keith tightened his hold on Rupert's hand. "I want to say your assistance in dealing with Daniel Roth last spring was definitely appreciated. Without your input the Alliance would have lost an entire branch."

Rupert self-consciously cleared his throat. "It was a dire situation and I only wish that we could have saved Teresa and her son."

"Confirm." Keith said in a edgy voice as he released his grip. "But two dead is better than twenty lost." He puffed out a sigh. "Well Ray, let's see that paperwork so Mark and I can get out to the Viking and get settled."

Karn gave his head a nod toward the hallway. "Office is this way, you want some coffee?"

"I'm coffeed out." Keith answered. He turned back to Rupert. "Sometime this week we'll have to sit down with a beer and talk. I'm interested in burying the hatchet between the Alliance and the Council and I'd like to hear your input."

"Fine." Rupert halfheartedly agreed, feeling his guards rise as the man stepped away and followed Ray into the hall.

Joyce sat back down on the couch. "He seems like a nice man."

Rupert neither confirmed or disputed the observation.

Matthew trotted past the group carrying a plastic cat crate under his arm. "Hi guys, bye guys, gotta go cat corralling, see ya."

Buffy gave the strangers a nod and followed Matt. "You need any help?"

Matt grunted. "If you want to."

"Might as well." Buffy grabbed her wrap and headed toward the kitchen. "I'll check out back."

"I'm coming too, Let me get my coat." Willow chirped. "Cat corralling is a lot more fun than vamp patrolling."

"Except cats are sneakier. You should really stay here and get some antiseptic on those scratches."

"Naa, I'm fine..." Willow countered turning toward the voice. "...Just fine.. it ah, takes more than a kitty to hurt ol' Willow and I'm.. uh ol' Willow." Her brow furrowed. "You're Mark, right?"

Mark nodded. "Yeah, Mark Shellenbarger. I might as well go too since I've already got my coat on. You don't mind if I tag along, do you?"

Willow bit her lip and gave this man the once over. Looked to be somewhere in his late twenties, medium height with sandy brown hair and brown eyes. Dressed like an ad out of a fashion magazine with every hair in place.... and he was smiling at her in an interesting way. "Sure, come on."

With a sour expression, Ethan circled the newcomer. "I don't like the way he's looking at you Willow, my dear."

"So you having a good time here in Rutland?" Mark nonchalantly asked.

"Oh yeah! It's been fun. So are you with the Alliance?" Willow paused and giggled as Mark helped her with her coat. "Thank you!"

"My dad and I are with the FBI's special unit which oversees the Alliance's activities."

Willow's eyes widened. "Like the X-Files?!"

"Stay away from government types!" Ethan barked. "They are nothing but trouble!"

Mark chuckled. "Not 'exactly'. I'm sure you know real life is a lot stranger than anything on TV."

"No kidding." Willow nodded. "You never see giant snakes on TV." She pulled her knit hat out of her pocket. "Unless you're watching something about anacondas on 'The Learning Channel'."

"Giant snakes?'

With a somber nod Willow confirmed and elaborated. "The Mayor turned himself into a giant snake during our graduation ceremony."

As they walked toward the front door, Mark raised an eyebrow. "Wow. We knew that a lot of paranormal activity happens out in Sunnydale, but the Council has that territory. Are you allowed to tell me about it? It sounds interesting."

"Sometimes it's pretty weird!"

Rupert's frown deepened as their voices faded away. "Hurrump!"

"Now what?" Joyce sighed.

"He's pumping her for information." Ethan growled.

"He's interrogating Willow." Rupert echoed the unheard observation.

"Or maybe he's just making small talk." Joyce said through a grimace. "Honestly Rupert. I wish you would relax."

"Of course." He muttered. "I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop."

******

"Well, that was interesting." Aaron sniped.

Douglas clenched his fists and kicked the remains of the mirror across the room. "And how in the hell am I suppose to shave?!"

"You'll get used to it." Aaron leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. For a second he stroked the black silk which covered it and then eyed the four candles, each in turn. "But I believe it's time we reconsidered this plan."

"What the hell do you mean by that?!" Douglas bellowed. "We did not drive 3,000 miles to just turn tail once we got here!"

"I've been thinking."

"Well that's a novel concept! Now what the hell are you going to go off about? This tourist camp? Those idiots that 'you' turned yesterday morning? The fact it's snowing? Or have you found something else to whinge ab..."

Aaron's game face flickered. "You are losing the last faint glimmer of humanity you had. Not that you had any to spare to begin with, but..."

"Get to the point, DAMN YOU!"

"You're turning." Aaron hissed out. "It's gone past the melding to something else. And this..." He swept a hand toward the shattered mirror. "...'This' old friend is more than just seven years bad luck. 'This' is proof that whatever demon came into us when we opened Hell's gate was not what we expected."

"I still have a pulse! I'm still breathing! So what if my reflection is only a shadow?!" Conrad-Chaney roared.

"And what happens when we do this again with Quentin?"

Douglas's decibel level did not lower a fraction. "May I remind you that 'I' am the sorcerer here and if 'I' don't give a damn, neither should you!" He pointed toward the back bedroom of the small resort cottage. "Go check on the crew!"

Aaron stood and crossed his arms. "Don't order me around, mate."

With each step peppered with a barrage of profanity, Conrad-Chaney came across the room and went face to game face with his old friend. "I said, 'go check'!"

The vampire held his ground. "I will, but not until you tell me 'exactly' what you believe has happened to you and 'exactly' what the plan is for the next few days." He bared his fangs. "I've went along with every bloody plan of yours over the years. We're partners and you will not treat me like your servant."

In a barely veiled, condescending tone Douglas ground out the information. "The first melding went tits up when the wrong soul came out of hell and was most likely vaporized. Consequently there was not the first iota of supernaturally enslaved human soul to temper the exchange. And you can see the result! The vampire in me is strengthening and I don't give a flying fuck!"

"That's nice to know."

"Secondly, this wide-open pit will be our base of vampire operations until I contact that idiot Realtor and find something more secluded. Does that meet your approval?"

Aaron faintly nodded.

"Stellar!" Douglas snapped, taking a step away. He twirled the end of his mustache and pointed toward the magic supplies laid out on the table. "At about 23:00 we will arrive at the Birch Ridge Inn where I will locate Quentin either in his room or in the bar. After a bit of conversation, I will lure him out to the camper with the suggestion that we take a small hunting trip to demonstrate Sean's killing technique."

"And what if he doesn't want to come out and play?"

"He will." Douglas chuckled. "Quentin Travers would not pass up the opportunity to critique my work." His face twisted up into pure hellish delight. "So then, I escort him into the camper where he finds, much to his surprise, not a melded vassal but one very brassed off old acquaintance."

Aaron's tongue flickered across his fangs.

"As he begs for mercy I will slice off a finger or two. Blood and meat into the bowl will make for a fine melding. At that point he is yours. You will drain him half gone, just like you did with McKinley. Then we bring him back here and finish the job."

"So far so good." Aaron conceded. "And what about this wedding?"

"We have four days to do the recon." Douglas picked up a pilfered phone book. "Their cover, Alliance Tower and Steel is listed, that's a start."

"What about Alliance households?"

"I looked, but even 'they' are not that stupid to have a public listing." Douglas rolled his shoulders. "It feels like it's a bit after 21:00. What do you say we do a fast exploration of this frigid village before we go calling on Travers?"

Heady with the prospect of sinking his fangs into the one who betrayed him so long ago, Aaron began to rock on his feet. "Very well Douglas. We'll give it a go."

"You go check on our minions and I'll bring the truck around."

Aaron resumed his human features and made his way to the back of the cottage. Without the courtesy of a knock he barged into the bedroom. "How's it going?"

Sean sat voiceless in the corner, as still as a stone awaiting his orders. To his left Steven and Chandra toyed with the newly risen. "Not bad boss." Steven reported giving the binding ropes a harsh yank. "They seem to be getting the idea of who's in charge."

"This one..." Chandra purred as he nails left a deep welt across the captive male's chest. "..this one was a soldier." She wrinkled her nose and reached over to flick the cheek of the female. "But this one was nothing. She will not be any use. May we destroy her?"

The corner of Aaron's lip curled. "No. You must think ahead Chandra, my dear. Cannon fodder is always useful." He rubbed his chin and gave the scene a nod of approval. "We'll keep them hungry until the strike. By then their demons will be in a blind rage."

"Kill." Sean whispered.

"Be patient Sean, for soon we will let you kill to your blackened heart's content." Aaron reassured. "But first we need to make you a partner."

Steven gave a thumbs up sign. "You heading over to turn the other one?"

"Yes. We will be back in about four hours. Until then I want you all to stay here. There will be no feeding."

Chandra made a whining noise.

"We can't risk it. Missing persons could tip our hand." Aaron turned to go back out the door pausing to give one final reminder. "You will obey or I'll show you firsthand the definition of the word 'butcher'."

As one the lesser vampires grudgingly submitted.

Aaron's reptilian smile stayed on his face until he entered the truck then it vanished without a trace. "We need more troops."

Douglas started the engine and pulled away from the cottage. "I don't think so. Two melded vampires will be the equivalent to fifty of your kinsmen. The wedding party will be dead before they know what hit them."

"I don't want to lose Steven and Chandra. They are valuable to my business dealings."

Snort!

"Despite his outward appearances, Steven is an encyclopedia of dealers in magic rarities and Chandra can wrap any man around her finger within seconds. Her demon is pure seduction."

"So? If they get staked we'll turn one of the Alliance whores and maybe one of their alleged scholars." Douglas grumbled. "Or better yet we'll turn that miserable sod Giles."

Aaron leaned back into his seat and frowned out the window.

An hour passed with only the minimum conversation before Douglas slammed on the brakes and broke into a deep, wicked belly laugh. "LOOK!"

Aaron resettled into his seat and his gaze followed the point of his companion's finger. "Well I'll be damned." He rubbed his hands together and read the marquee in front of By Invitation Only. "November eighteenth, Alliance Tower And Steel Dinner. November twentieth, Congratulations Karen and Matthew."

Douglas put the truck in motion. "Not only will this will be the reception hall, but we now know that the Alliance will be occupied with a backwoods ball two days prior. Don't you just love these idiot Yanks? They have to advertise everything!"

"Perfect!" Aaron shouted, giving the dashboard a slap. "Things are finally looking up! Now let's go up to Sherburne and ruin Quentin's holiday!"

Douglas could hardly contain himself. "Absolutely! I'll turn around at this motel and we'll be on.. our... way." His voice faded and was replaced by a laugh square of the one he just finished. "And the fates still smile upon us! There's Alliance headquarters."

Aaron looked to his right and then over to the Viking Inn. "If the wedding guests had a bit of sense they would reserve rooms close to the activities."

"You are giving those fuckwits much too much credit." Douglas shot back as he nosed into the motel driveway. "He then thought about it for a moment and reconsidered the possibility. "But still, after we are finished with Travers we'll swing back past here and reconnoiter the vehicles parked here."

"This has become a very, very good night."

******

The faint noise from outside had already faded into silence before Wesley fully awakened. He raised up and listened to sounds of the winter night. The occasional groan of the landscape as it contracted in the cold air, the indistinct crackle of building ice on the eaves counterbalanced by the equally faint lament of the dying fire in the adjoining room, the bare trees creaking in annoyance as a light wind stressed their frost stippled branches.

"Wind." Wesley murmured.

Still propped up on one elbow, he reached out and curled his finger along one of the dark locks of hair which flowed like a river across her pillow. He bent his head down and inhaled the faint, lingering scent of her shampoo. "Apricots."

Renée stirred under his touch and snuggled deeper into their lovenest of blankets.

Wesley laid back down. Contented for the first time in longer than his ego cared to admit. Fulfilled and at peace - physically, emotionally and mentally. Warm, secure and snug.

"If only this night would never end." He wished with all his heart. "If only we could never part."

He had almost asked her. The words had formed but were left unspoken as he caressed her body. Granted, the moment would have been the perfect time to invite her to return to Sunnydale with him. During that time of blissful repose as the heartbeat returns to normal and all that one is conscious of is the soft sighs and touch of their lover, Wesley had been within a breath of whispering his desire for her to never leave his side. But in his heart he knew what her answer would be, and it was not one he could then bear to hear.

She would no sooner leave the Alliance than he would break with the Council.

This dismal certainty twisted from his mind and into his heart. With a bittersweet sigh, Wesley leaned toward her and embroidered a trio of gentle kisses from her cheek to her jaw.

Renée murmured softly.

"Sleep ma chere." Wesley whispered, banishing the specter of their inevitable goodbye to the back of his mind. "In the morning we'll make love again and again and again, just like we did tonight."

He stretched out, gladdened with this respite from the loneliness of the past year. His body and soul relaxed, enjoying the feel of the rumpled sheets against his nakedness as he settled back to slumber.

Wesley was almost asleep when he heard that sound again, but this time he pegged it as footsteps breaking through the icy crust of the snow. Slowly he rolled over, sat up and caught the fleeting glimpse of a shadow moving away from the window. "What in the blazes?" He brought his watch up to his face and illuminated the dial. "3:04? Who in their right mind would be out for a stroll at this hour?"

As silently as possible he slid out of bed and went to the window. The night was frigid, but clear as a bell with a waxing moon shining down upon the slight rise in the land behind the Inn. Wesley inhaled sharply. A man was making his way toward the road and, in all probability, to that camper topped pickup truck that sat across the highway. Wyndam-Pryce frowned and craned his neck to get a better view. The vehicle was parked in the slight spur of drive between the road and the padlocked gateway to Alliance headquarters. His attention went back to the man and Wesley's unease deepened. No coat. It was several degrees below zero on the Celsius scale and this person was sauntering along wearing only what seemed to be a lightweight shirt.

"Vampire."

Wesley mouthed the hateful word, dropped the drapes back into place and shook his head while his intellect began to argue with his gut instincts. No vampire in their right mind would come to Rutland. But still... it was a fact that vampires were in Sunnydale courting destruction at the Slayer's hand. Then further proof came blooming from his sleep fogged memory. When he had opened his eyes he had been looking toward the bedroom mirror and had not observed any motion. But when he had rolled over he'd witnessed that silhouette flash away from the window. It had to be a vampire, and it was spying on him and Renée.

A cold chill went up his spine. He took a step toward Renée's sleeping form and then decided otherwise. She would be safer here. Veering around the bed he rushed into the suite's living room and began to collect and pull on his clothes which lay scattered in front of the fireplace. Squinting in the half light he fumbled around for a wayward shoe and his glasses, finding them both underneath Renée's blouse which had landed in a heap beside the loveseat.

"Blast it!" He muttered patting his winter coat for both a weapon and the car keys. Wesley stuck a hand into the left hand pocket and came up with the keys. He puffed up his cheeks and berated himself in an exasperated grumble. "Wesley, you don't have time to dawdle. Get moving... Matthew should have something you can utilize in the boot."

With this thought he went out the door as quickly and quietly as he could. The sound of the pickup truck pulling away spurred him into a headlong dash toward the end of the building. He peered around the corner, breath frosting into the cold air. There was the pickup, pulling away from its holding spot and heading toward town. "If I hurry I can catch up with them." Wesley estimated through clenched teeth. He whirled around and went slipping and sliding back to Matt's car and with only a token attempt to clear the frost from the windshield, he left the Inn in pursuit.

It was not so much the reverberation of the car engine groaning into life, but instead the instinctive need for the confirmation of her lover's presence that brought Renée into the cusp between dream and awake. Without premeditated, her hand went over to feel for the reassurance of his warmth, but she found only the already cold sheets.

Renée's eyes shot open and she sat bolt upright in bed, her gaze darting between the empty bedroom and the dark space past the bathroom door. "Wesley?" She bit her lip and crawled out of bed, draping the bedspread around her shoulders as she went toward the doorway into the living area.

"Amour? Where are you?" She called again, her voice on the line between worry and rising anger. Then she saw his clothes were gone and anger became the dominant emotion. Drawing in a hissing breath she went to the front window, ripped the drapes back and glared out at the empty parking space. "Dat BÂTARD! I'm gon pass a slap on dat sonna bitch dat will knock him to nex Choosday!"

Spewing a line of curses which damned Wesley and his entire gender with a boiling, well turned mixture of Cajun, French and English, Renée flung the drapes back against the window. Her hands clenched into fists as she tried to keep the outrage at a peak but the hurt began to cut like a knife.

Then she sat down and cried.

******

Wesley rubbed his bloodshot eyes as he sat out the light. Two and a half hours of searching without the first hint of success had him at the end of his rope.

The light changed to green.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Well, back to the house or back to the hotel? Renée will be waking up soon, should have left her a note... oh dear. I'll give her a call at about 8'ish and explain what happened. She, she will understand... of course she will. "

Wesley noted the time on the dashboard clock. "6:08. Mr. Karn is an early riser. I should report this to him. He would want to know, as soon as possible, the certitude that undead elements have arrived in Rutland. It might cause problems if I did not notify him of this right away."

He gave his head a hard shake. "I'm talking to myself."

The light changed back to red.

"Bother."

A block down the street the sign in front of a fast food restaurant flickered and came to life.

Wesley started theorizing to himself, again. "I'd wager they just brewed coffee. Shouldn't be too hateful." His stomach added additional commentary. "And maybe one of those breakfast egg and some sort of meat sandwiches. Should have finished my meal last night instead of rushing back to the hotel."

"Renée." Wesley whispered her name as his mind replayed the previous day. A day trip to Bomoseen State Park where they had a wonderful time despite nearly freezing to death. But "warming up" once they got back to the car had been a delight. Then down to Fair Haven for dinner. "Dinner" in name only. They had sat at a table and food had been brought, but Wesley had not noticed his entree....

The light changed to green.

...How could he think about eating with her hand moving up his thigh? And then she had coyly asked him where he wanted to go for breakfast when they woke up. Without a doubt, lingering over dinner had not been in the cards.

A sharp rap on the driver's window broke the spell. Wesley jumped halfway out of his skin and fumbled with the button to roll down the window.

"Is there a problem... uh, officer." He asked as calmly as possible.

"I was going to ask you that, buddy. You've sat through two green lights." The officer said in an unhappy tone, giving his head a faint motion toward the traffic light.

"Ah.. ummmm... I'm a tad uh, 'lost'." Wesley stammered. "I'm here as a guest, for a wedding and... uh." He worked up a weak smile. "How do I get back to Colonial Avenue?"

The cop did not smile back. "Have you been drinking? You look pretty rough around the edges."

"No Sir. Well, yes. But, not really. I had a glass of wine with supper but nothing since then." Wesley fidgeted in his seat, cleared his throat and offered up what part of the truth he could tell the cop. "(Ahem) Man to man, I uh, spent the night 'away' with a 'lady' and I really need to get my host's car back to him before he wakes up and sees that...."

"Colonial is back the other way. Turn around and go back through town until you get to route 4. Turn left and follow your nose to Hathaway then..."

"Yes, yes! Hathaway! That was the street that dead ends on Colonial. Thank you officer!" Wesley interrupted a bit too loudly, hoping that he would be allowed to go on his way.

With the barest trace of a smile the policeman waved Wyndam-Pryce on. "Get on out of here. Just remember, around here green means 'go'."

"Of course, green... means... go. I'll make a note of it and, and I am going." Wesley rolled up the window and sighed in relief. "Perhaps this is for the best." He considered as he pulled into a parking lot and made his turnaround. "Go back and inform Mr. Karn of what I saw. Then I'll shower and get some fresh clothes and take a taxi back to Renée."

Wesley gripped the steering wheel tighter. "I'm talking to myself, again."

The drive back to the Karns' only took about ten minutes. Six of them with police 'escort'. Wesley pulled into the driveway and thankfully noted the lights on toward the back end of the house. "Good. Very good." He exited the car and made an attempt to smooth his hair down as he walked up to the back door.

Ray shut the refrigerator door, sat the juice container down and waited until Wesley had taken three steps into the kitchen before he turned around to face the Watcher. "I don't appreciate this."

"Ah, Mr. Karn..."

"You're my guest, but I expect you to respect my house and the others who are staying here. Don't make a habit of crawling back here at 6:30, looking like something the cat dragged in..."

Wesley waved his hand. "I saw a vampire."

"Where?"

"Outside the Viking Inn a...."

"When?"

"...A, a little after 3:00 AM. It was..."

"Specifics."

Wesley was getting a little perturbed with the slant of the interrogation. "If you would please be so kind as to quit interrupting, I'll be happy to give you the 'specifics'."

Ray's face went to a scowl. "So, talk."

"I was awakened at approximately 3:00 by a noise of unknown origin. Thought it was merely the wind and I laid back down."

"Did Renée hear it too?"

Wesley felt his cheeks redden. "No. And for your information, she slept through this entire incident." He hissed in a breath and paused to allow Ray to add anything else, but Karn crossed his arms and remained silent.

Giving the stubble on his face a rub, Wyndam-Pryce continued. "A few minutes later I heard the noise again. This time I was aware enough to realize that it was someone walking past the bedroom window. I went and looked outside and saw a man without a coat walking toward the road. There was also a pickup type truck, either dark blue or black in color with a attached camper parked between the gate and the road in front of Alliance headquarters."

"So where's the vampire?"

"It was that man I saw."

Ray shook his head. "There hasn't been a vampire in Rutland since 1919."

"He wasn't wearing a coat and, in case you haven't noticed, it's a 'bit' cold."

"It's not that bad. Only got down to about 20 overnight."

"Oh yes, beach weather." Wesley snotted taking a step toward Karn. "And furthermore this man did not have a reflection!"

Ray's attitude did a 180 from skepticism to alarmed. "Are you sure?"

"Not... one hundred percent, but..."

"Either he did or he didn't!" Ray barked.

"The second time I heard the noise, I opened my eyes facing toward the dresser mirror and I don't remember seeing any reflection. But when I turned to the window he was just passing it."

"Oh for crying out loud..." Ray grumbled, turning his back on Wesley and pouring himself some juice.

"Mr. Karn, I would recommend that you have a team check into this matter."

With a glare, Ray turned back toward Wesley. "Crew calls are 'my' business, not 'yours'."

"I would not be so presumptuous to even try to interfere with Alliance matters. But, this vampire needs to be tracked down..."

Ray slammed his palm down on the counter with a resounding "crack". "There are NO VAMPIRES IN RUTLAND!"

"I know what I saw and you 'must' believe me!" Wesley shouted back. "May I remind you I am a trained Watcher, not some half-witted civilian who has not the first damned clue as to what is going on!"

"Trained my ass." Ray spit. "You come dragging in here with this half baked story and expect me to jump?"

"No, I expect you to do your job!" Wesley seethed with a jabbing point of his finger toward Ray.

If ever in his life Wesley wanted to grab his words back out of the air this was it. He watched as Ray's jaw tightened in tandem with a clenching fist and he knew that he had to try to smooth things over. "My... my apologies. I was out of line."

When Karn finally spoke his tone was pure ice which said more than his statement. "Maybe it would be a good idea if you found someplace else to stay."

Wesley confirmed the suggestion. "That would probably be for the best." He pushed his glasses up and began to leave the kitchen. "If it meets your approval, I'll shower, pack and be gone by mid-morning."

"That would be fine." Ray answered through his teeth. He waited until he heard Wesley step on that squeaky stair halfway to the landing and then picked up the phone and dialed the Viking Inn. Keith Shellenbarger answered on the first ring. "Keith, It's me. I don't know what they're up to, but that Wyndam-Pryce character just tried to send us out on a wild goose chase."

After backtracking to cast a furtive glance back down the stairs, Wesley lightly rapped on Buffy and Willow's bedroom door.

He waited, tapped again and was rewarded with muffled rustlings and sleepy mumbling.

Ethan stuck his head through the wall. "Well hello, Wesley. See you finally decided to come home."

Wesley opened the door a crack and stage whispered. "Buffy... wake up."

"Ummph... whaaaat?"

"Shuuu..." Wyndam-Pryce entered with his finger to his lips. "..quiet."

Willow sat up, swung her feet to the floor and fumbled with the light switch.

"Leave the light off." Wesley hissed, shutting the door behind him.

"Oh having the lights on is much more fun. You can see where you're groping." The shade snickered.

"What's going on?" Buffy rubbed her eyes and wrinkled her nose at the bedside clock. "Wes, it's not even 7:00."

"I don't have time to go into detail..."

"But you always do." Buffy moaned. "Details are your 'gift'. Buffy slays, Wesley details, it's in the handbook."

Wesley made a noise that would better be suited to an angry cat. "Shhhhhhhuuuuu!"

Willow and Buffy exchanged glances and then turned back to Wesley. "What happened now?"

"To make a long story short..."

Buffy rested her chin on her drawn up knees and pulled the blankets around her a little tighter. "Too late."

"...Mr. Karn and I just had words and I've been asked to leave." He said walking to the end of the bed. "Now listen carefully..."

"Oh great." Buffy sighed out.

"Do... do we 'all' have to go?" Willow sputtered.

"I saw a vampire, Mr. Karn says I didn't. I was asked to leave, which I will do as soon as the car rental locations open for business. Now, I realize that we will be stepping on Alliance toes, but when I get relocated I will call you and we will arrange for you to patrol, starting this evening..."

"Patrroooolll?" Buffy whined. "Wes, this is vacation. No Hellmouth, no vamps, no patrol."

Willow raised a hand, as if asking to be called on in class. "Uh.. Wesley."

"What is it Willow?"

"How's Buffy going to get out of here to patrol without, you know, Karen's dad finding out?"

"She has a point." Ethan agreed. "You don't want to go meddling with these wankers. Did you see that weapons wall over at their headquarters? 'Wall' mind you, no little hidey-hole over in the corner."

"Buffy can shimmy out the window." Wesley said in a dead serious tone. "From what I've heard she is well versed in that concept."

Buffy's face flashed indignation. "Hey!"

"Willow can 'cover' for you. That would be the best course to..."

"I'm not going to be here." Willow interjected. She giggled a bit. "This guy came over last night and helped look for Karen's cat, because the cat got out and he's really nice.. the guy not that cat, but the cat is nice too..."

Wesley interrupted the interruption. "What guy? Are you saying you have a date planned?"

"Yes she does!" Ethan growled. "Not only is this pompous, honey tongued, sod with the Alliance, he's also a Federal agent. I told her not to accept his invitation, but would she listen to me? Hell no!"

"She's going to the movies with this Mark guy." Buffy explained.

"Wonderful." Wesley groaned. "Buffy, this means that you will have to be extremely covert in your actions. Perhaps we should bring the elder Mr. Giles into the plan... now what the devil?"

"That is what they call a doorbell." Ethan snotted. "Visitors at this hour, so uncivilized."

Downstairs, from his Ray assigned spot on the couch, Matt awakened and echoed the shade's comment. "Who in the hell's laying on the doorbell at five after 7:00?" He rolled off the makeshift bed and grabbed his jeans off the floor. "Hang on!"

Ray beat him to the front door, cordless phone still to his ear, muttering. "Give me a minute, Keith." He opened the door curtains a crack and identified the early morning visitor. "It's Renée."

In the usual Alliance procedure, Karn opened the door and stepped back without sign or word of invitation to enter.

Renée stomped the snow from her boots and swept in. "Where is he?"

"Matt, you want to go get Mr. Wyndam-Pryce?" Ray gruffly requested with a toss of his head toward the stairway.

"Yeah, sure." Matthew answered, pulling yesterday's shirt on over his head. "Hey Renée."

"Allo." The huntress mumbled.

Wesley peeked down the stairwell. "Good morning Renée, I was going to call you at 8:00."

"Mais, you don need to call, 'cause I am here." She cooed with a sweet smile.

Matt raised an eyebrow. "Ut-oh."

"And it's so wonderful to see you." Wesley beamed, hurrying down the stairs to be at her side.

Renée literally batted her eyes as he approached.

Matt's other eyebrow went up.

"So my dear, I was wondering if..."

SLAP!

Wesley's glasses went flying off his face.

"BEC MON CHEW! You beaucoup crasseux, mal, sonna bitch, bâtard Watcher!" She drew back with her right hand, Wesley ducked away and she got him with her left palm leaving a second slap print on his cheek.

"Take it outside!" Ray barked.

"Der no more to take anywheres!" Renée spit, whirling around and leaving through the door like a stormcloud.

Wesley scooped up his glasses and started to follow. "Renée! I can explain!"

"Cut your losses man!" Matt warned, grabbing hold of Wesley's coat.

"Let go!" Wesley ordered, twisting out of Matt's grasp. "Renée! Wait!"

"Wow." Willow breathed from her spot on the landing.

Buffy came down a few steps and sat down halfway up the stairs. She cocked her head to one side and listened to the high volume, blistering stream of Cajun pathos coming from the porch. "What did she just say?"

Matt chuckled wickedly. "Well sister, let's just say that if Wes could really do what she just told him to go do, he could quit being a Watcher and become a movie star."

"Oh." Buffy blinked a couple of times and yawned. "Anybody want some breakfast?"

"Sounds like a plan." Matt said with a stretch. He scratched his chest and headed for the kitchen. "Is the coffee ready?"

Buffy twisted around toward the shell-shocked Willow. "You want in the shower first?"

"Of course she does." Ethan leered. "Then it's your turn my dear."

"Un-huh, yeah." Willow shook her head and sighed. "Poor Wesley."

Ray shut the front door and went into the empty living room. He waited until Buffy was on her way to the kitchen and replaced the phone to his ear. "Did you catch all that Keith?"

"How could I miss it? Sounds like Renée will be primed to help us out."

"Confirmed." Karn agreed, parting the living room curtains an inch. "She's leaving now."