Fic: Trouble On The Way 2/6
Aug. 1st, 2010 01:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonyphoenixTitle: “Trouble On The Way” 2/6
Characters: This section has two OCs. The story is working towards Xander/OC and will also have appearances by Willow, Buffy, Oz, Ripper (it is set on “Band Candy” night), Joyce, and Angel. Oh, and a bunch more Ocs.
Rating: PG-13
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Summary: There's a new female demon in town. Guess who's attracted.
Note: This story is set around the time of “Band Candy”, but, in my version, Xander and Cordy have already broken up. Sorry. Basically I wrote the story and, in a later edit, decided I needed to associate it with a specific episode. “Band Candy” fit best in terms of time-line and demonic activity so I went with it despite the fact that Xander and Cordy were still an item then.
Note: Thanks to diebirchen, the most gracious Fairy Godmother of Verbal Usage, for the beta. I did one final edit after incorporating her suggestions and most likely added in some errors. By which I mean to say that any errors are my own.
Master list for this story is here.
* * *
As Xander wandered past the playground, his face lit up with a nostalgic smile; a couple of kids were begging their parents for just one more run down the slide. His Mom had never fallen for it either, which he'd resented at the time, but now that he knew more about Sunnydale, he figured getting the kids home before sunset was an essential parenting skill. And hey, who knew that Mom even had parenting skills?
He didn't notice the girl until he'd walked past the monkey-bars and could see the swings clearly. Even hunched over on the swing like that, he could tell she was tall, taller than he was anyway, but she was sort of pretty and looked like she could use a friend. Couldn't hurt to go over and talk.
Opening line, opening line, ran through his mind as he approached the swing set. Ah, he thought, as he scrounged through his pockets. That'll do. “Lollipop?” he asked as he sat down on the swing next to hers and held out an orange sucker. She shook her head no, and then looked back down towards the ground. “OK,” he said, “but you're missing out on an excellent sugar buzz here.”
Watching her out of the corner of his eye as he unwrapped the lollipop, his mind raced for something to say. “So, if Sunnydale were a song, what song would it be?” What? I came up with that? No wonder Cordy dumped me, he thought with a twinge. Well, that and the whole kissing Willow and almost getting Cordy killed thing.
“Bad Moon Rising,” she whispered.
Oh my God, it's working. What do I say? “Hmm.” His voice sounded overly loud in his ears. “Trouble on the way. Earthquakes and lightening. Don't go out tonight. Hey, you're not wrong there, but I don't think Mrs. Miller will go for it. I'm supposed to answer the question for a school report; did I mention it's a school thing? Creative something or other. I was thinking of David Lee Roth's 'I Wish They All Could Be California Girls.'” Seemed to be going OK so far. At least she hadn't rushed off. “Are you a California girl?”
She smiled at him when she said, “I'm from Nevada.”
“Oh,” he said, not sure how to take that, but she wasn't running away or turning into a man-eating bug woman, so that had to be of the good. “That's OK. I doubt 'California Girls' would have gone over anyway.” Pointing up towards the top of the swing set, he added, “You know, when I was a kid I used to try and swing right over that bar. I never made it myself, but there was a kid, Dave, who I heard almost did. He slipped off the swing and flew so high up, he never came back down.” Xander paused as he thought about a tiny coffin. Dave hadn't vanished into some fairy-tale sky castle; he'd stayed out too late. “His family moved away,” he added.
“Oh,” he heard. Her voice sounded concerned.
Wrong mood, wrong mood, his mind screamed in warning. Swapping the lollipop to his left hand, he held out his right and said, “Xander.”
“Xander?” she asked, sounding uncertain.
“That's my name; don't wear it out. Well, you can wear it out, if you want to, since you look so pretty saying it, and I can't believe that just came out of my mouth. I really was trying for suave and debonair, sort of a James Bond thing.” Xander thought of himself as 007, jumping from car to car of a moving train, falling off and rolling over the gravel, and then coming to a stop in the mud. “I came off as more of an idiot babbler, didn't I? It's OK, you can admit it.”
She giggled and took his hand. “Helen.”
And hey, that didn't mess up too badly. “I haven't seen you around. Visiting?”
“I just moved here,” Helen said.
“So you'll be transferring to Sunnydale High. I could show you around, point out the hot spots, if you'd like.” Feeling bashful, he ducked his head and then looked up hopefully.
“I'm working. I just got a job at the antique shop, Time In Thy Flight.”
“Oh, Giles has found some great demonic– I mean demonstrations. Giles has given demonstrations at the shop– because he's old– and British. And I guess they weren't all that great, come to think of it.” Xander petered off uncertainly thinking, Way to make her think you're nuts. Bringing up demons. What were you thinking? What's she thinking? Working? So she's not a high-school student. She looks like a high-school student. Do Not Tell Her That. “So, that means you're older than me. I must look like some joke of a kid brother to you.”
“Nah, I'm not as old as– I mean, it's not like–,” she stopped as if she didn't know what to say, but Xander didn't mind. He was used to feeling that way himself.
He flashed her a smile and asked, “Would you like to get ice cream or something?”
“Ice cream sounds nice.”
* * *
“Would you do it, run-away I mean, if the problem were big enough?” Helen had wanted to call back the words as soon as they'd left her mouth. She'd felt so relaxed, laughing and joking with Xander, that she'd dropped her guard. After he'd told her about his friend, Buffy, who'd run away, she'd been tempted to tell him why she was on her own, but had managed to change it to a question.
“Never, never run-away,” Xander replied in an unexpectedly earnest tone of voice. “Demons will grab you from behind every time. Always face your monsters.”
“And what if you are the monster? How do you face yourself?” She panicked after she'd blurted out the question. What was wrong with her, giving herself away like that.
“Get a mirror,” he quipped. “Unless you're a vampire, because that whole no reflection bit? Totally true.” She let out a high-pitched, nervous giggle, but he didn't seem to notice anything odd about it. The talk about monsters had reminded her that she had less than a week to figure out a way to restrain the wolf. Making friends was just an illusion and a dangerous one at that. Reality was fangs and claws. Reality didn't mix well with friends, or family.
Helen gave an excuse, saying she had to work the next day, but Xander insisted on escorting her home. You're just going to get hurt if you hang with me, she thought. You make me forget, and that's bad. “Here it is,” she said as they rounded the corner of the apartment building.
“I'll, um, see you around,” he said.
“Yeah,” she replied, trying to sound casual. Growing up, she'd always been surrounded by friends and could hardly stand to be alone anymore, so it came out sounding like she did want to see him again, which was true, even though she knew she should leave him alone.
“Right,” he said with a smile before walking off into the night.
As Helen walked up the stairs, the lifeless beige walls and carpet flashed to gray. She'd been getting random flashes like that ever since the full-moon memories had started coming back. It only served to highlight how little time she had.
Helen pulled out her keychain, the leopard-print snake that reminded her of her friend. With a smile that was half grimace,she looped the coils around her fingers. Tonya, like Xander, had made her think she could have friends during one of the worst times of her life. Huh, and look how that had turned out.
As Helen reached towards the door, her roommate, Kris bounded out of the apartment. Helen had to leap back to avoid being run over. After blinking a few times, Helen still couldn't adjust to how Kris' magenta hair clashed with the primary colors of her tie-dyed top. At 5'2”, Kris was much shorter than Helen but, despite her slightly chubby frame, was a whirlwind of energy.
“Hey, I'm heading to Arlo's. He's got some weed in.” Given the hippie outfit Kris had on, Helen could have guessed where she was going. Kris dressed to suit the moment – generally based on whomever she was hanging out with – although sometimes her outfit seemed to cater to some unknown whim. Leaning back and folding her arms to her chest, Kris added, “I guess you're still too much of a goody-two-shoes to join us.”
“Sorry,” Helen said. She wasn't willing to do anything that would take away that much of her control over herself.
“Bye, then.” Kris bounced away having forgotten, as far as Helen could tell, that she'd been annoyed just a moment before.
As she stepped into the apartment, Helen flipped on the ceiling light, which was covered and muted by a batik depicting three women. Kris and some artsy friends of hers had put it up just a few days before, while the artist had gone on and on about how each one of the three represented a different approach to divinity. To the left, was a grimacing face, dark blue and terrible, whose pointed teeth dripped blood onto a skull necklace. At the right, the face, as round as the moon, was serene and pale, seemingly untouched by worldly concerns and framed by a cascade of golden curls. In the center, the head and torso of a saintly woman filled with the ecstasy of God, seemed to shift in the light.
Because the more muted light better suited Helen's mood, she didn't bother to turn on a lamp. As she flopped down onto one of the mismatched chairs, Helen brought her hands up to cover her mouth. Oh God, she panicked. The full moon. What am I gonna do?
* * *
The antique shop seemed almost organized, as if it had some sort of order to it, just out of the reach of the eyes. It was as if the pattern were so big, the mind knew it was there but couldn't quite take it in. At the back of the store, a bald man, looking formal in a tan turtleneck and dark brown pants, dialed a phone while he kept an eye on Helen.
She'd picked up an Orb of Thessela and was muttering about paperweights. That was a common enough mistake and it wasn't as if there were a high demand for the Orbs, but perhaps he shouldn't have had her inventory the new shipment. She wouldn't recognize any of the magical objects, but it did keep her occupied while he tried Oz again.
Finally, someone picked up on the other end. “Hello? I'd like to speak to Oz.”
Oh great, the same idiot as before, Nash thought. “I've been trying to reach him for two days now. Don't you have any idea when he'll be back?” It had to be soon with the full moon fast approaching, but Nash needed him here now. Even in human form, Helen would recognize Oz as another werewolf. Centuries of tradition told Nash that the initial revelation would be easier if he had Oz by his side.
“You think?” he shouted before slamming the phone down.
“Was it something important?” Helen asked, looking fairly spooked.
Damn, he hadn't meant to frighten the girl. Perhaps a retreat would be in order. “Just something I wanted done sooner rather than later, but it can wait, a while longer at least.” As the shop door opened, Nash took advantage of the sound to break away. “Why don't you see who that is. I'll be out shortly”
Nash stepped into the other room, but stayed by the doorway to take a longer look at Helen. The girl seemed nervous, but if she knew she was a werewolf, the approaching full moon would be weighing heavily on her mind. If only he knew what was going through her head, he could decide how to proceed.
Nash winced as the orb flew out of Helen's hand, but it was caught, before it could smash into the ground by that young man who hung out with Rupert and the Slayer. What was his name again? Ah, yes, Xander Harris. “You should be careful with these things,” Harris said as he handed the orb back to Helen. “You never know whose soul could be in one.”
Interesting. It seemed that the boy had managed picked up some knowledge, but what was he doing here? He did know Oz. Perhaps he had something– Was he flirting with Helen? Nash scrutinized the couple.
“A wand of basketball?” Xander asked, picking up a green crystal next to the packing crate and scattering Styrofoam peanuts everywhere. Ah, there was the lad as he'd come to expect him.
Helen giggled. Damn, that wasn't good. While their charges weren't exactly forbidden to mate, it was discouraged by the Order. Not that he'd managed to keep Oz from taking up with that witch-in-training.
“It's called a wand of B'turu,” Helen replied, reading it off the inventory sheet.
“Whatever,” Xander said. “Word of advice. If it ever starts glowing– run.” And again the boy comes through with arcane knowledge. I really do need to keep a closer eye on Giles' charges, Nash thought.
“You told me to never run away from anything,” Helen said.
“Fine. Smash it to the ground first and then run, but that's not why I'm here. We're hanging out at the Bronze Thursday night, Willow, Buffy, and me, and I was kinda hoping you'd join us. I mean, I know you haven't met many people yet, and this is a perfect opportunity to get to know the gang.”
Time to nip this in the bud, Nash thought. “Mr. Harris.” Xander turned and gulped. “Already causing trouble I see. Advising my new clerk to destroy the merchandise.”
“Mr. Nash,” Xander stuttered.
“Is there some reason you're here, Mr. Harris?”
“I, um, no?”
Nash gave the door a significant glance.
“And I'll just be going then,” Xander added. As he backed towards the door, almost knocking over a table of antiques, he asked Helen, “See you there?”
“I, uhh, maybe?” Helen said, sounding reluctant. Nash eyed Harris with pleasure as the boy took in the rejection. Good, getting her settled under his wing would be difficult enough. No need to add the heady mess of teenage lust into the mix.
Helen reached a hand out towards Xander but, when Nash gave her a glare, she pulled her hand back as if burned and turned her attention to the contents of the shipping crate.
* * *
Mr. Nash had told Helen that Wednesdays and Thursdays were the slowest days in the shop, and that she could have them off. She actually preferred working, because the job kept her busy enough that she didn't think about her problems It wasn't that many days to the full moon and she still had no idea where she could restrain herself. There was a solid looking door in the basement of Mr. Nash's shop. Helen wasn't sure where he kept the key, though, or what excuse she could use if he realized she'd locked herself in.
And then there was Xander, she thought as she found herself outside the high school. She knew she should keep away from him. No need to drag someone down into her mess, but she couldn't help thinking about him. Could he really be as nice as he seemed? Her own friends had seemed just as nice until after her family, well, until after the deaths. They'd been uncomfortable with her, when her life was falling apart and she'd needed them the most. Grandma had warned her people wouldn't understand.
Helen, half-hidden by a tree across the street from the school, tried to tell herself to leave Xander alone, but her thoughts evaporated as he came down the front steps. She watched him chat with two girls, and he was as friendly and open as he'd been with her.
When Xander skateboarded off, Helen raced after him. Even running, she managed to stay well out of sight. Since she'd started to remember what happened during the full moon, she'd become an excellent stalker, able to hide in almost plain sight. Not that she needed those skills to follow Xander. He never even glanced back once.
She slipped into the shadows of a neighbor's yard as Xander approached a slightly seedy house. Helen noticed that he squared his shoulders before going in. Wondering if it was his house or not, she gave it ten minutes before hiding herself close enough that she could listen in. It was quiet mostly until the father came home and made a row about dinner not being ready. Xander didn't speak much, but when he did he sounded very reserved. Not close to his family, she guessed, having already seen how open he was with his friends. That might be for the best, she thought, not allowing herself to realize what she meant by that.
Helen headed home shortly before dusk, having already realized that there was something creepy about Sunnydale after dark.
* * *
The demon Raphael loathed the suburbs. Could there be anything more horrifying than the banal box-house homes that people not only chose to live in, but embraced! They left no room for individuality, uniqueness, or even personal taste. Suffice it to say that having his quarry park herself outside of some rat-trap of a suburbanites' wet dream wasn't his idea of a worthwhile hunt.
It was interesting, though, that she was on a hunt herself. She'd chased a young man all the way from the local high school and had then parked herself outside his house. This suggested they'd been wrong about her. There were two main strains of werewolves: the tandru and the lochen. He'd been told that Helen was a tandru, or a lone wolf, but that's not what her behavior was saying. As a lochen, she'd be driven to either find or create a pack, and Rafe would eat his hat if she hadn't picked that young man as a potential pack member. There were advantages to both types, but Rafe preferred the lochen. Alone, they tended to be off balance and unpredictable but, offer them a strong team, and they were loyal as all hell.
As Helen snuck over to the sidewalk, Rafe gave out a sigh. She wasn't even going to run. He thought about letting out a bit of a howl, just to set her off, but he'd been ordered to follow and not make contact. No need to get his head chewed off for nothing. He'd get to play with her soon enough.
Characters: This section has two OCs. The story is working towards Xander/OC and will also have appearances by Willow, Buffy, Oz, Ripper (it is set on “Band Candy” night), Joyce, and Angel. Oh, and a bunch more Ocs.
Rating: PG-13
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Summary: There's a new female demon in town. Guess who's attracted.
Note: This story is set around the time of “Band Candy”, but, in my version, Xander and Cordy have already broken up. Sorry. Basically I wrote the story and, in a later edit, decided I needed to associate it with a specific episode. “Band Candy” fit best in terms of time-line and demonic activity so I went with it despite the fact that Xander and Cordy were still an item then.
Note: Thanks to diebirchen, the most gracious Fairy Godmother of Verbal Usage, for the beta. I did one final edit after incorporating her suggestions and most likely added in some errors. By which I mean to say that any errors are my own.
Master list for this story is here.
As Xander wandered past the playground, his face lit up with a nostalgic smile; a couple of kids were begging their parents for just one more run down the slide. His Mom had never fallen for it either, which he'd resented at the time, but now that he knew more about Sunnydale, he figured getting the kids home before sunset was an essential parenting skill. And hey, who knew that Mom even had parenting skills?
He didn't notice the girl until he'd walked past the monkey-bars and could see the swings clearly. Even hunched over on the swing like that, he could tell she was tall, taller than he was anyway, but she was sort of pretty and looked like she could use a friend. Couldn't hurt to go over and talk.
Opening line, opening line, ran through his mind as he approached the swing set. Ah, he thought, as he scrounged through his pockets. That'll do. “Lollipop?” he asked as he sat down on the swing next to hers and held out an orange sucker. She shook her head no, and then looked back down towards the ground. “OK,” he said, “but you're missing out on an excellent sugar buzz here.”
Watching her out of the corner of his eye as he unwrapped the lollipop, his mind raced for something to say. “So, if Sunnydale were a song, what song would it be?” What? I came up with that? No wonder Cordy dumped me, he thought with a twinge. Well, that and the whole kissing Willow and almost getting Cordy killed thing.
“Bad Moon Rising,” she whispered.
Oh my God, it's working. What do I say? “Hmm.” His voice sounded overly loud in his ears. “Trouble on the way. Earthquakes and lightening. Don't go out tonight. Hey, you're not wrong there, but I don't think Mrs. Miller will go for it. I'm supposed to answer the question for a school report; did I mention it's a school thing? Creative something or other. I was thinking of David Lee Roth's 'I Wish They All Could Be California Girls.'” Seemed to be going OK so far. At least she hadn't rushed off. “Are you a California girl?”
She smiled at him when she said, “I'm from Nevada.”
“Oh,” he said, not sure how to take that, but she wasn't running away or turning into a man-eating bug woman, so that had to be of the good. “That's OK. I doubt 'California Girls' would have gone over anyway.” Pointing up towards the top of the swing set, he added, “You know, when I was a kid I used to try and swing right over that bar. I never made it myself, but there was a kid, Dave, who I heard almost did. He slipped off the swing and flew so high up, he never came back down.” Xander paused as he thought about a tiny coffin. Dave hadn't vanished into some fairy-tale sky castle; he'd stayed out too late. “His family moved away,” he added.
“Oh,” he heard. Her voice sounded concerned.
Wrong mood, wrong mood, his mind screamed in warning. Swapping the lollipop to his left hand, he held out his right and said, “Xander.”
“Xander?” she asked, sounding uncertain.
“That's my name; don't wear it out. Well, you can wear it out, if you want to, since you look so pretty saying it, and I can't believe that just came out of my mouth. I really was trying for suave and debonair, sort of a James Bond thing.” Xander thought of himself as 007, jumping from car to car of a moving train, falling off and rolling over the gravel, and then coming to a stop in the mud. “I came off as more of an idiot babbler, didn't I? It's OK, you can admit it.”
She giggled and took his hand. “Helen.”
And hey, that didn't mess up too badly. “I haven't seen you around. Visiting?”
“I just moved here,” Helen said.
“So you'll be transferring to Sunnydale High. I could show you around, point out the hot spots, if you'd like.” Feeling bashful, he ducked his head and then looked up hopefully.
“I'm working. I just got a job at the antique shop, Time In Thy Flight.”
“Oh, Giles has found some great demonic– I mean demonstrations. Giles has given demonstrations at the shop– because he's old– and British. And I guess they weren't all that great, come to think of it.” Xander petered off uncertainly thinking, Way to make her think you're nuts. Bringing up demons. What were you thinking? What's she thinking? Working? So she's not a high-school student. She looks like a high-school student. Do Not Tell Her That. “So, that means you're older than me. I must look like some joke of a kid brother to you.”
“Nah, I'm not as old as– I mean, it's not like–,” she stopped as if she didn't know what to say, but Xander didn't mind. He was used to feeling that way himself.
He flashed her a smile and asked, “Would you like to get ice cream or something?”
“Ice cream sounds nice.”
“Would you do it, run-away I mean, if the problem were big enough?” Helen had wanted to call back the words as soon as they'd left her mouth. She'd felt so relaxed, laughing and joking with Xander, that she'd dropped her guard. After he'd told her about his friend, Buffy, who'd run away, she'd been tempted to tell him why she was on her own, but had managed to change it to a question.
“Never, never run-away,” Xander replied in an unexpectedly earnest tone of voice. “Demons will grab you from behind every time. Always face your monsters.”
“And what if you are the monster? How do you face yourself?” She panicked after she'd blurted out the question. What was wrong with her, giving herself away like that.
“Get a mirror,” he quipped. “Unless you're a vampire, because that whole no reflection bit? Totally true.” She let out a high-pitched, nervous giggle, but he didn't seem to notice anything odd about it. The talk about monsters had reminded her that she had less than a week to figure out a way to restrain the wolf. Making friends was just an illusion and a dangerous one at that. Reality was fangs and claws. Reality didn't mix well with friends, or family.
Helen gave an excuse, saying she had to work the next day, but Xander insisted on escorting her home. You're just going to get hurt if you hang with me, she thought. You make me forget, and that's bad. “Here it is,” she said as they rounded the corner of the apartment building.
“I'll, um, see you around,” he said.
“Yeah,” she replied, trying to sound casual. Growing up, she'd always been surrounded by friends and could hardly stand to be alone anymore, so it came out sounding like she did want to see him again, which was true, even though she knew she should leave him alone.
“Right,” he said with a smile before walking off into the night.
As Helen walked up the stairs, the lifeless beige walls and carpet flashed to gray. She'd been getting random flashes like that ever since the full-moon memories had started coming back. It only served to highlight how little time she had.
Helen pulled out her keychain, the leopard-print snake that reminded her of her friend. With a smile that was half grimace,she looped the coils around her fingers. Tonya, like Xander, had made her think she could have friends during one of the worst times of her life. Huh, and look how that had turned out.
As Helen reached towards the door, her roommate, Kris bounded out of the apartment. Helen had to leap back to avoid being run over. After blinking a few times, Helen still couldn't adjust to how Kris' magenta hair clashed with the primary colors of her tie-dyed top. At 5'2”, Kris was much shorter than Helen but, despite her slightly chubby frame, was a whirlwind of energy.
“Hey, I'm heading to Arlo's. He's got some weed in.” Given the hippie outfit Kris had on, Helen could have guessed where she was going. Kris dressed to suit the moment – generally based on whomever she was hanging out with – although sometimes her outfit seemed to cater to some unknown whim. Leaning back and folding her arms to her chest, Kris added, “I guess you're still too much of a goody-two-shoes to join us.”
“Sorry,” Helen said. She wasn't willing to do anything that would take away that much of her control over herself.
“Bye, then.” Kris bounced away having forgotten, as far as Helen could tell, that she'd been annoyed just a moment before.
As she stepped into the apartment, Helen flipped on the ceiling light, which was covered and muted by a batik depicting three women. Kris and some artsy friends of hers had put it up just a few days before, while the artist had gone on and on about how each one of the three represented a different approach to divinity. To the left, was a grimacing face, dark blue and terrible, whose pointed teeth dripped blood onto a skull necklace. At the right, the face, as round as the moon, was serene and pale, seemingly untouched by worldly concerns and framed by a cascade of golden curls. In the center, the head and torso of a saintly woman filled with the ecstasy of God, seemed to shift in the light.
Because the more muted light better suited Helen's mood, she didn't bother to turn on a lamp. As she flopped down onto one of the mismatched chairs, Helen brought her hands up to cover her mouth. Oh God, she panicked. The full moon. What am I gonna do?
The antique shop seemed almost organized, as if it had some sort of order to it, just out of the reach of the eyes. It was as if the pattern were so big, the mind knew it was there but couldn't quite take it in. At the back of the store, a bald man, looking formal in a tan turtleneck and dark brown pants, dialed a phone while he kept an eye on Helen.
She'd picked up an Orb of Thessela and was muttering about paperweights. That was a common enough mistake and it wasn't as if there were a high demand for the Orbs, but perhaps he shouldn't have had her inventory the new shipment. She wouldn't recognize any of the magical objects, but it did keep her occupied while he tried Oz again.
Finally, someone picked up on the other end. “Hello? I'd like to speak to Oz.”
Oh great, the same idiot as before, Nash thought. “I've been trying to reach him for two days now. Don't you have any idea when he'll be back?” It had to be soon with the full moon fast approaching, but Nash needed him here now. Even in human form, Helen would recognize Oz as another werewolf. Centuries of tradition told Nash that the initial revelation would be easier if he had Oz by his side.
“You think?” he shouted before slamming the phone down.
“Was it something important?” Helen asked, looking fairly spooked.
Damn, he hadn't meant to frighten the girl. Perhaps a retreat would be in order. “Just something I wanted done sooner rather than later, but it can wait, a while longer at least.” As the shop door opened, Nash took advantage of the sound to break away. “Why don't you see who that is. I'll be out shortly”
Nash stepped into the other room, but stayed by the doorway to take a longer look at Helen. The girl seemed nervous, but if she knew she was a werewolf, the approaching full moon would be weighing heavily on her mind. If only he knew what was going through her head, he could decide how to proceed.
Nash winced as the orb flew out of Helen's hand, but it was caught, before it could smash into the ground by that young man who hung out with Rupert and the Slayer. What was his name again? Ah, yes, Xander Harris. “You should be careful with these things,” Harris said as he handed the orb back to Helen. “You never know whose soul could be in one.”
Interesting. It seemed that the boy had managed picked up some knowledge, but what was he doing here? He did know Oz. Perhaps he had something– Was he flirting with Helen? Nash scrutinized the couple.
“A wand of basketball?” Xander asked, picking up a green crystal next to the packing crate and scattering Styrofoam peanuts everywhere. Ah, there was the lad as he'd come to expect him.
Helen giggled. Damn, that wasn't good. While their charges weren't exactly forbidden to mate, it was discouraged by the Order. Not that he'd managed to keep Oz from taking up with that witch-in-training.
“It's called a wand of B'turu,” Helen replied, reading it off the inventory sheet.
“Whatever,” Xander said. “Word of advice. If it ever starts glowing– run.” And again the boy comes through with arcane knowledge. I really do need to keep a closer eye on Giles' charges, Nash thought.
“You told me to never run away from anything,” Helen said.
“Fine. Smash it to the ground first and then run, but that's not why I'm here. We're hanging out at the Bronze Thursday night, Willow, Buffy, and me, and I was kinda hoping you'd join us. I mean, I know you haven't met many people yet, and this is a perfect opportunity to get to know the gang.”
Time to nip this in the bud, Nash thought. “Mr. Harris.” Xander turned and gulped. “Already causing trouble I see. Advising my new clerk to destroy the merchandise.”
“Mr. Nash,” Xander stuttered.
“Is there some reason you're here, Mr. Harris?”
“I, um, no?”
Nash gave the door a significant glance.
“And I'll just be going then,” Xander added. As he backed towards the door, almost knocking over a table of antiques, he asked Helen, “See you there?”
“I, uhh, maybe?” Helen said, sounding reluctant. Nash eyed Harris with pleasure as the boy took in the rejection. Good, getting her settled under his wing would be difficult enough. No need to add the heady mess of teenage lust into the mix.
Helen reached a hand out towards Xander but, when Nash gave her a glare, she pulled her hand back as if burned and turned her attention to the contents of the shipping crate.
Mr. Nash had told Helen that Wednesdays and Thursdays were the slowest days in the shop, and that she could have them off. She actually preferred working, because the job kept her busy enough that she didn't think about her problems It wasn't that many days to the full moon and she still had no idea where she could restrain herself. There was a solid looking door in the basement of Mr. Nash's shop. Helen wasn't sure where he kept the key, though, or what excuse she could use if he realized she'd locked herself in.
And then there was Xander, she thought as she found herself outside the high school. She knew she should keep away from him. No need to drag someone down into her mess, but she couldn't help thinking about him. Could he really be as nice as he seemed? Her own friends had seemed just as nice until after her family, well, until after the deaths. They'd been uncomfortable with her, when her life was falling apart and she'd needed them the most. Grandma had warned her people wouldn't understand.
Helen, half-hidden by a tree across the street from the school, tried to tell herself to leave Xander alone, but her thoughts evaporated as he came down the front steps. She watched him chat with two girls, and he was as friendly and open as he'd been with her.
When Xander skateboarded off, Helen raced after him. Even running, she managed to stay well out of sight. Since she'd started to remember what happened during the full moon, she'd become an excellent stalker, able to hide in almost plain sight. Not that she needed those skills to follow Xander. He never even glanced back once.
She slipped into the shadows of a neighbor's yard as Xander approached a slightly seedy house. Helen noticed that he squared his shoulders before going in. Wondering if it was his house or not, she gave it ten minutes before hiding herself close enough that she could listen in. It was quiet mostly until the father came home and made a row about dinner not being ready. Xander didn't speak much, but when he did he sounded very reserved. Not close to his family, she guessed, having already seen how open he was with his friends. That might be for the best, she thought, not allowing herself to realize what she meant by that.
Helen headed home shortly before dusk, having already realized that there was something creepy about Sunnydale after dark.
The demon Raphael loathed the suburbs. Could there be anything more horrifying than the banal box-house homes that people not only chose to live in, but embraced! They left no room for individuality, uniqueness, or even personal taste. Suffice it to say that having his quarry park herself outside of some rat-trap of a suburbanites' wet dream wasn't his idea of a worthwhile hunt.
It was interesting, though, that she was on a hunt herself. She'd chased a young man all the way from the local high school and had then parked herself outside his house. This suggested they'd been wrong about her. There were two main strains of werewolves: the tandru and the lochen. He'd been told that Helen was a tandru, or a lone wolf, but that's not what her behavior was saying. As a lochen, she'd be driven to either find or create a pack, and Rafe would eat his hat if she hadn't picked that young man as a potential pack member. There were advantages to both types, but Rafe preferred the lochen. Alone, they tended to be off balance and unpredictable but, offer them a strong team, and they were loyal as all hell.
As Helen snuck over to the sidewalk, Rafe gave out a sigh. She wasn't even going to run. He thought about letting out a bit of a howl, just to set her off, but he'd been ordered to follow and not make contact. No need to get his head chewed off for nothing. He'd get to play with her soon enough.
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Date: 2010-08-29 08:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-29 09:37 pm (UTC)Hopefully the Sunnydale crew will sort it all out. Of course they will. ;-)