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Intermission

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This story is No. 2 in the series "The New World". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Short scenes set between Mild Side and The Hunt

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > Buffy-CenteredBrownFR151211,72631527,01910 Sep 0917 Jan 10No

Even Tried Sodium

Brown says: Having formatting issues. Will re-upload if I can fix them.

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Jacqui sighed. She was so bored. Mr. Giles had made phone duty sound interesting, talking about remaining calm in the face of crisis, doing emergency research, co-ordinating rescue and response efforts; all that kind of stuff. The duties that she had been trained – well, okay, was being trained – to deal with as a Watcher. She sighed again, resting her cheek on her hand and staring at the silent phone.



What Mr. Giles had neglected to mention was that no one ever called. This was her third night of phone duty, her fifteenth hour of it, and not one emergency call. All she’d had was a slayer who’d forgotten where her apartment was. Apart from that one search through the Council’s residency database, all had been quiet. This night, Jacqui thought glumly, would be exactly the same. She flipped open her satchel and pulled out Demons of South American Extract. She had a test tomorrow, after all, and she could remember almost nothing about the Gishnar clan. Did they build their lairs in the bend of rivers? Or was that Gornoks?



Jacqui was running her finger down ‘G’ in the index when the phone suddenly rang, causing her to jump in surprise and drop the heavy tome onto her foot. She bit back a curse and scrabbled for the phone. Once it was next to her ear, she took a moment to compose herself.

“Er…hello?” Came a tentative voice.

“International Watcher’s Council. What is the nature of your emergency?” Jacqui snapped. There was a short, embarassed silence before the person on the other end pressed on.

“I’ve got a demon I need to kill, but it’s resistant to magic. Also stabbing, slashing, bludgeoning, steel, cold iron, silver and obsidian. I was thinking that if I described it, you could tell me how to kill it? That’s what you do, right?” The voice was young, male, British, and a mix between embarrassment and nervousness.

“Yes, sir, we do. Just give me a moment.”



Jacqui opened the searchable database on her computer. Archiving information according to subject was one of the Council’s ongoing tasks, but they had about three-quarters of the library done. She couldn’t imagine research without the database for initial searches and cross-referencing. She clicked on ‘Demons’, and scrolled down to the physical characteristic search parameters.

“Alright, sir, please describe your demon.”

“Well, it’s about seven feet tall. Skin’s a sort of purple-black, and it’s got a spike on each elbow. Otherwise pretty human-looking.”

Jacqui ran the search, and quickly had an answer. “Sounds like a Hrafnir, a subspecies created during a ritual that went wrong. A bronze knife in the heart will kill them.”

“Bloody hell, the one metal I didn’t try!” The caller trailed off into angry mutters.



Jacqui thought this might be the time to give the Council’s standard offer. “Ah, sir, should you be confronting this demon alone? We can provide assistance if you give us your location.”

“Well, it’s currently under about four feet of chains, so I doubt it’ll give me much trouble.” The caller said wryly. “Although…Its saliva must be acidic or something, the way it’s chewing through them. I should do this quickly. One moment.”



“Hello? Sir?” Jacqui called after him, but there was no response. Straining her ears, she could hear faint noises. There was a rattle of chains, muffled words, and then an unearthly shriek of outrage and fear. There were more muffled words, and then a few that Jacqui could just make out.

“Don’t act like that! I’m not the one who was eating prostitutes! Now stop squirming.”

There were more muffled words, then a loud bang followed by a wail that suddenly died away. Jacqui had accompanied slayers on patrol, she knew the sound of a dying demon. And then the strange caller was back on the line.

“Thanks for the help. Anyway, got to go. Oh, tell Buffy that Harry said hello.”



And then the line was dead, and Jacqui was blinking at the fact that someone she’d never heard of knew Buffy Summers. She passed the message on to Mr. Giles the next morning, and gave him her best innocently curious stare: eyebrows slightly raised, nose crinkled, pouting subtly.

He said “Hmm?” and she kept staring. Mr. Giles could be quite intimidating, but he was susceptible to prolonged pouting. Five seconds. Ten seconds. At fifteen seconds he let out a sigh and Jacqui knew she’d be getting some gossip.

“Harry is an acquaintance of Buffy’s, a wand-wizard. He is something of an…allied professional. And that is all you’ll get from me, Ms. Carson.” And he gave her his ‘long stare over glasses’, one of the classics, signifying that the conversation was over.
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