What's everyone up to?
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters. I receive no profits from this. It is just for fun.
Archiving: Please ask.
Feedback: Constructive Criticism desired.
Summary: Faith doesn’t join the Mayor.
AN: Thoughts are between slashes (//Thought.//)
Buffy was finding it difficult entering the meditative state Giles had been instructing her in. The very reason she was trying to enter that state was the thing that was preventing her from achieving it.
She was naked and pressing against an equally naked Xander. Okay, it was only their knees, hands and foreheads that were touching but still they were both naked and facing each other, and she just knew he’d seen that she shaved. And she needed to meditate to take her mind off that knowledge or she’d drive herself crazy long before their ordeal was over.
At the moment, her only solace was that Xander’s skin was as flushed as hers was, meaning he was just as embarrassed as she was.
She hoped he had a good deal of guilt as well.
She’d been good too. Her eyes were focused solely on his face. She hadn’t looked down at all. She’d resisted the temptation to reciprocate for his eyes wandering lower than necessary.
Sure, he had to be looking down to get their foreheads aligned but she was sure he could have done that without peeking. But he had peeked as she could tell by the widening of his eyes as their heads touched. It took all her will power not to crush his hands in retaliation.
That was why she sought her meditative state so she could get through the whole eight hours without doing something she might regret. Whatever that might be, as she was torn between several possibilities to sate her growing frustration.
Meanwhile, Xander’s brain was dazedly and silently repeating its own thoughts and trying to keep drool from forming because of them. The brain power to initiate swallowing was only accessible at a higher operating level than was currently engaged. There was no telling how long before the reboot would start.
Dan checked the photo he’d gotten from Ed and assured himself he’d found the right man. While it wasn’t Weatherby, it was one of the men who’d arrived with him. However, the other two men he was talking to outside the bar were of a similar bearing and did not look like local talent.
Just as he was about to snap a picture of the trio, he caught movement reflected in his side view mirror. He managed to use the telephoto camera lens to knock the gun from the man’s hand and then use the flash to temporarily blind him. Luckily his car was already running so he just put it in gear and sped away. No shots were sent his way but he did hear a couple of inventive curses.
//I’m really getting too old for this if they can sneak up on me like that,// he mused as he took the first corner on squealing tires.
He headed back to his office. He needed to use the facial construction software to come up with likenesses of the guys he saw since he hadn’t gotten any pictures. He would also need to let Sam and Ed know the Council goons were aware they were probably under scrutiny.
Sam told Dan not to worry too much about the incident. Them knowing they were being checked on would make them less likely to act precipitously and cause them to move more cautiously which would hamper their search for the Slayer.
Of course now he’d have to make a phone call that would probably put him off his lunch. Dealing with a Knuks Demon, who, on a good day, smelled like vomit and rotten garbage that has been out in the Sun for a month, was more appealing than dealing with that man but it wouldn’t hurt to make him aware that he was not going to operate in Vegas unmolested regardless of the circumstances.
Seeing that it would be about early evening there, he dialed the phone and waited for it to be answered.
Brass was happy they’d gotten a confession from the hotel clerk. As good as the evidence was against him, the fact that a convicted murderer had been in the vicinity of the crime would give even a mediocre defense more than enough leverage to raise reasonable doubt for at least one juror if the case came to trial.
Copies of the facts surrounding the locations that Ms. Summers’ finger prints were found were provided to the Feds, without any speculation or conclusions. The word ‘magic’ was never written or spoken to the Feds. Neither were the two unidentified white males that Archie had seen on the surveillance footage, though the Feds got copies. Brass was content to let Gerard and company make up their own minds as to any implications they might make.
Brass was not too surprised when it was discovered that while the rental car confiscated from the hotel garage had been obtained at LAX, no one matching either Sato’s or Takei’s descriptions or using those names had arrived on any flight, foreign or domestic, at any time that day. The Feds confirmed that Immigration had no one using those names entering the country, ever.
Traces on the credit card number and a copy of Takei’s driver’s license gotten from the hotel records proved they were fake. It also confirmed that it was likely that it had been Sato that Gerard had collided with at the Ramada back in Sunnydale. The Marshal and his team had added the two businessmen to their APB on Ms. Summers and Mr. Harris, listing them as suspected of aiding and abetting a federal fugitive.
True to her word, Lady Heather came in and checked on the two young people about every hour. After only the second hour she was wondering if the two would last the full eight hours. Xander had a slight sheen of sweat covering him and his body was quite tense. Buffy seemed to be a bit better though some moisture was visible and even she showed small signs of being tense as well.
Lady Heather just smiled as the two shifted their eyes to glance at her each time she entered. Since she was attired differently each time, she made sure to note each of their reactions. So far the latex nurse outfit she wore on her fifth visit was the one that got nearly identical eye dilations from them. It was also the one that got a slight movement from Xander, though he quickly subsided after only a few noticeable twitches. At least they were noticeable to Lady Heather. Buffy just shifted her eyes back to Xander’s face while taking several deep breaths through her nose.
An obvious attempt at returning to her meditative state, Lady Heather noted, but one that would also have her smelling the muskiness that had been permeating the air since the first hour.
However, it was her entry at the seventh hour caused Xander’s most demonstrative reaction. It was also the one that finally got Buffy to shift her gaze downward as movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Since Xander was still ogling a reasonable facsimile of Zatanna Zatara, he failed to catch Buffy’s eye action of looking down and quickly snapping her eyes back up to his face. Her pupils were quite large and her breathing was quite fast for several minutes. Xander failed to take note of those changes as his brain was once again operating at less than optimum capability.
Lady Heather smiled smugly and left.
In a dingy little bar on the outskirts of Vegas, a dark haired young woman was hustling some locals at pool. She was wondering how much longer to stay in Vegas. While it was a real swinging place with an interesting nightlife, it was also expensive and she didn’t want to draw any attention to herself by over feeding any particular watering hole to get money. She knew that games against the house were bad odds, which is why she preferred private games of chance, though pool was hardly what she’d call a game of chance the way she played. More of a sure thing, really.
Her current opponent, a.k.a. sucker, was some foreign tourist. A little scruffy but still looking quite fit. If it weren’t for one thing, he was deliberately making bad shots and taking his time doing them, she might have considered letting him get lucky at something other than pool. That one thing had her on high alert which went even higher when she noticed three similar dudes come in the front and two others come from the back.
Warrick Brown pulled up to the bar where several police cars were parked with their lights rotating.
He showed his badge to the cop on the perimeter and made his way to the detective near the door.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Some type of riot broke out,” said the detective. “Shots were fired. Several people were injured. One dead, though not from a gunshot.”
Warrick raised an eyebrow.
“Best see for yourself, but don’t touch as the body hasn’t been released yet,” continued the detective. “Also, watch your step. There’s a lot of brass all over the floor along with a few pool balls.”
Intrigued, Warrick entered the bar. The lights were still dim but he could see reasonably well. The sight disheartened him in that the detective had been right about the floor being littered with shell casings. It would take a while for a lone CSI to process just the brass.
The body was hard to miss being pinned to the wall near the back exit by a pool cue.