I. Wake Up Call

Disclaimer:  The Covenant and Buffy the Vampire Slayer are not of my own creation.  They belong to Sony Pictures / J.S. Cardone & Joss Whedon.

PhoenixRae's Notes:  The timeline is set to present (meaning it'll cover late 2007 and move on to early 2008 in future chapters) so the Sons of Ipswich's age as well as the BtVS characters age are current.

Summary:  His remains weren't found in ruins left by the burnt down barn.  No one knew what happened to him or where he went, but he was back now and intent on draining the power of the one person he underestimated...

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Buffy's Covenant
by PhoenixRae

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I.  Wake Up Call

Some City in the East Coast

A DARK ALLEY...a lone male figure...another male figure looming in the shadows...the first male was running, panting and very much out of breath.  He paused beside a green dumpster, one hand braced on the side and the other braced against his thigh.  He was catching his breath while checking over his shoulder to see if he was being followed.

        He waited a couple of heartbeats.  He took a couple of deep breaths and resumed running.  Every second or so he'd look over his shoulder.  He was too busy looking over his shoulder that he wasn't paying attention to where he was going.  He ran headlong into an outstretched arm that felt like it was made out of wood.

        He was struck right on his larynx, causing him to double over and clutch his throat.

        His assailant appeared wearing black leather dusters on top of a black button down shirt and pants.  His shoes, expensive and shiny, were also in the shade of black.  His hair was blond and his eyes a deep green shade.  He looked menacing.  And he was menacing.

        He advanced towards the fallen man clutching his throat.  He made a tsk-ing sound with his tongue accompanied by the slight shake of his head from side to side.

        "You can run, my friend, but you can't hide," the assailant spoke the warning.

        "Please," the downed man rasped, "I don't have any money yet.  I'll--I'll pay you back tomorrow."

        The blond assailant stopped right in front of the man, his lips pouted as if in consideration, giving the other man hope that his life would be spared this evening.

        "I suppose I can give you another day," he began, watching the man cowering on the wet and dirty cement from the corner of his eye.  "But there's another thing you can give me instead," his grin widened and this time his eyes turned from green to a complete black shade.

        The downed man's eyes widened when he realized who this person was that beat him at a game of poker the other night.

        "You'll have to fight me to the death before I'll will my Power to you," he spat.

        Again his assailant pouted as if considering his threat.

        "Yeah, that would be very sporty if we dueled to the death or..." he let his voice trail off, adding more fear into the other man's psyche.  "I can just take it without your consent."

        "What--aaaaah!"  the downed man didn't get to finish his sentence before he was zapped by a thousand lightning bolts that penetrated his body.  His assailant thrust out his hands and sucked the Power from him without his consent.

        The man writhed and jerked as he dropped on the ground, smoke emanating from his body and the stench an electrocuted human body permeated the empty alleyway.

        Chase Collins stood before the barbecued man's remains savoring the feel of the other man's Power entering his body.


Ipswich, Massachusetts

NINETEEN-YEAR-OLD CALEB DANVERS woke up with a start as lightning cracked the midnight sky.  He was drenched in sweat from head to toe, his blanket bunched around his waist.

        He sat up straight, his breathing coming out hard and fast.  He could feel and hear his heart beat rapidly.  It had been over a year since he last had a dream as vivid and disturbing as this.  And the Power...it was a familiar and yet unfamiliar Power at the same time.

        What the hell was going on?  Who was using and abusing their Power again?


Cleveland, Ohio

TWENTY-SIX-YEAR-OLD BUFFY SUMMERS woke up with a jolt.  Her blue eyes opened wide as it tried to adjust to her dimly lit room.  A quick glance at her bedside digital alarm clock indicated that it was two-thirty in the morning.

        She just had a dream.  Actually it felt more like a premonition or something.  It felt real and the man draining the other man of his power and life felt eerily real and it was the lightning bolts that woke her up.  Whatever or whoever it was that killed that gambler sure felt like she knew him, but how and why?

        Slowly she pushed herself to a sitting position, gathering her legs up and pressing her thighs to her chest.  She rested her chin on her knees and stared at the empty space at the foot of her bed.

        Something bad was coming.  She felt it.  That was what her dream was about.  It was a warning.  But a warning to what?