Chapter 1: Manic Mornings
Chapter Text
The world’s most bizarre puzzle. Yep, that was it. An impossible, maddening puzzle regarding the eight magical amnesiac patients of Sunnydale. They should start a sitcom.
The last four months had been nothing short of confounding - particularly for their doctors, who were unable to detect any cause for the sudden and total memory loss. To say nothing of the possible reason it would occur in eight people simultaneously in the first place. It's not like amnesia is contagious. Then again, the doctor’s had started wearing hazmat suits toward the end there…
Whatever. They were way past any kind of medicinal cure. Probably past any kind of cure.
Joan glanced over at Rupert, who was sitting pensively at the large dining room table that the house’s previous tenants had deemed too heavy to bother bringing along. He was hunched over another book that he had had shipped over from his old apartment. Ever since that fateful day, their living room had looked more like a library than a living room. However, Randy had managed to convince him to upgrade his TV set to a more recent model and had taken great joy in tossing the old version at the dump. Joan would never complain. She loved the living room, old book smell and all. It was cozy. She especially loved those rainy nights where their little happenstance family would gather together with some hot cocoa and chat away like old friends.
Rupert would regale them with any new tidbits of information he had picked up from his books and at the Magic Box… or rant about how much he hated accounting. Anya would talk about her latest - usually unsuccessful - rabbit-proofing attempt for the yard or the new spell she was trying. The two topics often overlapped and occasionally earned a wince from Rupert, who had wound up a test subject one too many times. She had, however, stopped talking in detail about the intricacies of her wedding band, which Rupert had had Willow charm to smell perpetually of roses. Their wedding last month had been small and sweet, both due to the fact that they didn’t know any guests to invite outside of their fellow amnesiacs and the quick turnaround time. At one point, Randy had referred to it as a “shotgun” wedding and had almost gotten himself a black eye. Nevertheless, Joan thought that he was warming up to his new step-mother. Probably more than he was willing to let on.
Joan took another bite of her toast just as Tara plopped a heart-shaped pancake down on the plate in front of her. Starch all around.
Willow grinned over at the golden pancake and pecked Tara on the lips, eliciting a blush. “Another masterpiece.”
“Thank you much,” Joan said, picking up her fork and pausing. “Syrup?”
“Syrup,” Dawn replied, passing the already quarter-empty bottle over to her sister.
“I just picked this up at the store, how much syrup-” Joan stopped as she spotted Dawn’s plate. The syrup had soaked through her pancake and was pooling dangerously out to the edges of the plate. “You’re just asking for a sugar crash, you know.”
Dawn shrugged. “Hey, it’s the last day of school. I’m celebrating.”
Joan rolled her eyes, but didn’t stop Dawn from consuming more calories than she would need for the week.
They had discovered they were right about their initial speculation of being sisters from the local high school, Sunnydale High, where Dawn had apparently been a student even before the memory loss. It was a nifty break, since it meant they didn’t have to attempt to enroll Dawn “No Last Name” into a new school. The teachers and students had been made aware of her unique situation and it had been a more or less smooth transition. Dawn had even picked up a new sport, volleyball. She was pretty good at it too and was working on making the varsity team next year.
It was through the school that Joan had learned her name was really Buffy Anne Summers. Although that name never felt right to her. What kind of name was Buffy? So she had stuck with Joan. Everyone was already used to it anyway. And it was hers. She had also put up their old family house for sale. When asked, she claimed the reason for selling was that it just wasn’t economically sustainable, which was true. But not the whole truth. In reality, Joan didn’t like staring at all those pictures of memories she didn’t remember; constantly walking the same halls as that girl, Buffy, whoever she was; looking in at the bedroom of her faceless dead mother. It had felt like living with ghosts. Dawn hadn’t made any protest to the sale and Joan suspected she felt similarly. Everything potentially sentimental had been moved into a storage unit across town on the off chance they ever regained their memories.
They had a new home now, with Rupert and Anya. And Willow and Tara. And Randy. The place was becoming a regular apartment complex. But hey, they paid rent!
Upstairs, the doors to the master bedroom opened and Anya staggered out, putting her high heels on as she attempted to simultaneously continue walking. When she completed that entertaining task, she straightened out her yellow blouse and exhaled sharply. Joan was glad to hear it. Anya tended to work in a hyper-focused, frenzied state a majority of the time that made her wonder if the woman always remembered to breathe.
Anya hung precariously over the railing of the open skyway connecting the second floor rooms and called down to them, “Is Alex here yet?”
“Not yet,” Rupert replied, his attention shifting from his book to his wife. “Careful, dear, I don’t quite trust that rail, it’s not meant for supporting-”
“Supporting what, honey? Are you calling me fat?” Anya huffed, making her way down the stairs to stand in front of Rupert with her arms crossed indignantly.
“Of course not!” Rupert replied. “I’m merely questioning the construction. You are a vision as always.”
“That’s what I thought you said.” Anya leaned down and kissed his head, earning a small smile from her paramour.
“Alex’s here,” Dawn said through a mouthful of pancake.
Alex’s car pulled up in the driveway on the other side of the kitchen window and Anya fluttered off to fetch her suit jacket.
Ever since Alex had met his parents, he had done pretty much anything in his power to avoid them. That included taking out a loan from Rupert to rent out an apartment, and paying off that loan by working at the Magic Box. He had become something like Anya’s assistant and alternate guinea pig - much to Rupert’s relief. His short-lived relationship with Willow hadn’t lasted more than a week on account of her being gay. Fortunately for all, he hadn’t been too broken up about it. It probably had something to do with not remembering any of their relationship. And after that, Willow and Tara’s relationship unfolded as naturally as… well, as naturally as two memory wiped, beginner witches attending the local university together could be.
“Better put a rush on those last pancakes,” Willow said, peeking through the window.
“You can’t rush perfection,” Tara replied.
“Don’t worry about it!” Anya announced, practically sprinting back down the stairs. “No time for breakfast! We’re having a big sale on assorted roots today and I have a feeling people will be lining up at the door. No time to lose!” Anya snatched an apple from the fruit basket and took a giant bite out of it. “I’ll see you later, honey!” she told Rupert from across the room.
The moment Alex stepped through the door, Anya was already wheeling him around by the arm. He looked startled, but in otherwise good humor. He had gotten used to Anya’s never-rest behavior when it came to work. Which was quite literal on Wednesday nights, when Anya held her all-night hex class for some of the Magic Box’s more eccentric customers. Joan still wasn’t convinced that that whole venture was a good idea.
“Hey-o!” he exclaimed. “What’s the rush An?”
“Don’t worry, there will be plenty of time for me to catch you up on what you were supposed to read in the memo last night in the car. While it’s moving.” She practically shoved him out the door, not leaving room for any of those pleasantries one typically exchanged when seeing a friend.
“Later Alex,” Dawn called after them as the door slammed shut.
It was a slick little routine they had fallen into. Anya and Alex would open the Magic Box bright and early in the morning. Rupert would join them a bit later after dropping Dawn off at school. Willow and Tara would walk over to the UC Sunnydale campus together for their morning classes. They would return in the afternoon to work on their own business, Tara and Willow’s Mystical Charms and Potions of Varying Natures and Functions…. They were still workshopping the name.
And Joan would head off to work, wherever work called from that day. With the help of Willow and Tara, Joan had discovered that she had amassed enough credits in the time she apparently spent at UC Sunnydale to be eligible as a substitute teacher. Joan had completed her certification and had been filling in at a few of the schools in the district pretty regularly. She hoped it would eventually lead to a position in a school library. It would be a day-time only job with relaxed hours and acceptable pay. The perfect gig.
Rupert stood up from his place at the table and joined them in the kitchen without taking his eyes from his book. He almost ran into Tara who gave a startled jump, smudging the heart-shape of the pancake she had been making. More of a mushroom-shape now? A tree?
“Oh, apologies dear,” Rupert said, straightening his glasses. “I didn’t mean to startle you, I was just wondering,” he pointed to a spot in the book with thin, yellowing pages, “does that look like the Greek letter xi or zeta to you?”
“Um, I’m gonna have to go with xi.” Tara nodded. “It’s got way too many of those squigglies.”
“Right, squigglies,” Rupert muttered to himself.
He returned to his spot at the table and continued on as he did every morning. The mornings before heading to the Magic Box were Rupert’s time to research the possible causes and solutions to their mysterious amnesia. Joan was a bit surprised he kept at it for so long. It felt more and more like a lost cause. They had tried every remembrance spell they could find - some to rather detrimental effect - and nothing had worked. Although one time they had managed to cure Anya of her rabbit phobia - it didn’t stick. Joan had ceased caring about finding some magical cure a while ago. If she never got her memories back, well, she was happy. There were worse things. No point being miserable over a life she’d never known.
Joan picked up the latest copy of the Sunnydale Press and scanned over the headlines. It looked like a powerline had gone down and caused a brief power outage downtown. A new coffee shop was opening on campus. She made a mental note of that one. Sunnydale High won their swim meet. Nothing that screamed vampire.
“And how’s my son doing this fine morning, Joan?” Rupert asked.
She rolled her eyes, recognizing the quip.
“Still sleeping.” She rinsed off her dirty dish and placed it in the dishwasher, weaving past Tara on her way to deposit the hot mushroom-shaped pancake on Willow’s plate. “He had work last night and the superhero gig took up more time than we were expecting. There was a whole nest of vampires hiding out over in Restfield Cemetery. It was creepy. Lots of spiders. And smelled like sewer.”
“Any trouble?”
She shook her head. “Nah. Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
Dawn marched down the stairs with her backpack in tow. She had changed out of her pajamas and was pulling her hair back into a low ponytail.
“You ready to go Rupe?” Dawn asked.
He sighed, finally closing the book he had been staring at all morning. Joan wasn’t even sure if he had made it past that one page with all the squigglies. “I’m never going to shake that nickname, am I?”
Dawn pretended to ponder the question before shaking her head. “Nope!”
“Very well.”
"Resignation is good, Rupe," Joan said as she scraped the last few crumbs from her plate. "She'll stop the minute you stop letting it get to you."
"No she won't," he replied at the same time Dawn said, "No I won't."
Willow snatched Rupert's car keys off the counter and tossed them to him. Then he and Dawn were out the door and on their way to school.
“We better head out too,” Tara commented, glancing at her watch. “Don’t want to be late for psych.”
“I’ll tag along,” Joan said. “I need to catch the 55 bus anyway.”
She slung her purse over her shoulder and fished around to check that she had her keys. Stake. Another stake. Old wrapper. Ow… pencil. Wallet. Sunglasses. Gum? Her hand closed around something cool and metal. Finally, keys.
“Great! We can make a pit stop at the Espresso Pump on the way,” Tara said.
“Oh!” Willow perked up as if struck by a sudden thought. “That reminds me!” She ran off to her and Tara’s room and returned moments later holding a locket triumphantly in her hand. “I went to that jeweler's shop across from the Espresso Pump and got the clasp fixed yesterday. I knew you were busy.
Joan gave her friend a squeeze. “You’re the best, Will.”
Willow grinned and wiggled her head from side to side. “I know.”
Joan examined the familiar silver locket. It looked shiner than she remembered. The floral pattern engraved into the oval faces seemed more distinctive.
“They polished it up too,” Willow added. “Said it was an antique and offered to buy it from me. But I said no can do, jeweler man.”
Joan opened the locket and looked down at her and Randy’s smiling faces. It was the picture they had taken on the day of his dad’s wedding. All trussed up in his tux and bowtie. God, he had hated that bowtie. She broke out into a grin without meaning to, smiling like an idiot at the memory. After that picture was taken, he had given her the locket. He said he found it in his pocket and that it must be his most valuable possession on account of it being the only possession he had had besides his lighter.
She closed the locket and fastened the chain back around her neck. The locket hung just below her collarbone, the metal cool on her skin.
“Aw,” Willow hummed. “Pretty as a picture.”
Tara sidled up beside Willow and laced her hand in hers. “All set?”
“I am now.” Willow nudged Tara’s nose with her own and the three women headed out the door.
Chapter 2: Another Day at the Office
Chapter Text
“What is that?”
“What is what?”
Joan swore she could never come home from work without some new surprise. There was the time Willow and Tara set off all the fire alarms after a charm gone wrong, Dawn’s indoor volleyball tournament with friends, Rupert’s “dusting day” that had left everyone sneezing for a week, and Randy’s attempted motor race with Alex - to name a handful. Joan unloaded her purse on the kitchen barstool before crossing her arms and nodding pointedly to the little ball of black fur in Anya’s arms. The latest in a never-ending series of surprises.
“What? This?” Anya asked, raising the kitten up and earning a disgruntled mew. “This is my little bunny killer!”
“I swear I tried to stop her,” Alex said, scratching the kitten on the head. He certainly didn’t look like he tried all that hard. “I want that stated on the record for when Rupert hunts down the people responsible.”
“The traps and spells weren’t enough, huh?” Joan teased.
“They’re eating our bushes , Joan,” Anya enunciated with a look of horror. “Nibbling away all the leaves with their vile little rodent teeth!”
“Hey guys,” Willow said, emerging from the basement. She looked a bit silly with her lab goggles, rubber apron, and elbow-length gloves. She and Tara must be doing more charm experiments in their lab. “Do you know if- Oh my god!”
Willow spotted the kitten in Anya’s arms and tore her gloves off, running over to join in on the kitten gawking. The little ball of fluff yawned, exposing its tiny little teeth and almost tempting Joan enough to join in, dignity be damned.
“And who is this little guy?” Willow cooed. “Can I hold him?”
Anya turned her body away from Willow, shielding the kitten possessively. “ Her name is Hex. And no, you may not hold her. She’s sensitive.”
“Anya, are you really not going to let any of us hold the cat?” Joan asked.
At present, the kitten looked like it had dozed off, kicking out its tiny paw occasionally. Lost in a dreamland of mice and yarn, no doubt.
“If she wants you to hold her, you’ll know,” Anya answered.
Willow rolled her eyes behind her bulky goggles. It reminded Joan a bit of those googly eyes you could stick on stuff. For some reason things were always funnier with googly eyes. Maybe they should stick some on Rupert when he comes home. While they were at it, they could paint on a big, definitively not grumpy smile.
Joan left her friends to their bickering, hoping someone had at least thought of picking up kitten supplies while they were picking up a kitten. She fetched a plastic container filled with cow’s blood from the fridge and poured some into a mug to be microwaved.
“I just don’t think you should monopolize the kitten!” she heard Alex exclaim while she waited for the blood to heat up.
“Does everything in this house have to be communal?” Anya whined. “Is nothing sacred?”
“It’s a cat, An!”
The microwave beeped loudly and Joan retrieved the now hot mug.
“Randy still downstairs, Will?” she asked, heading towards the steps Willow had emerged from minutes earlier.
“Yep, he’s getting ready for work,” Willow replied as she tried to get a better look at the kitten Anya kept trying to hide. “Oh! If you’re going down there, uh, just don’t worry about the smell, alright? Tara’s handling it!”
Joan nodded slowly. “Right. Anyway. I’ll be walking with Randy to work tonight. Dawn and Rupert should be home after volleyball practice at seven. You guys can explain all of this,” she gestured to the current fight over the now very awake kitten, “when he gets here.”
“Oh no,” Alex said, grabbing his coat from a chair back. “I’ll be heading home now. If he asks, I’ve taken the fifth. Me and silence? Inseparable pals.”
Alex scampered for the door, leaving Willow and Anya to argue it out among themselves. Joan left them to the damage control and made her way down the steps, careful not to let the mug spill over. There would be no getting that stain out. Then the kitten would be the last thing on Rupert’s list of reasons to get all Britishly huffy. And it would come out of her deposit.
When she reached the bottom, she found that Willow hadn’t been exaggerating about the smell. However, where she expected to get a whiff of something akin to a sewer, she instead was hit by an almost nauseatingly sweet scent. She thought it maybe smelled like bubblegum. Or, more accurately, was maybe meant to smell like bubblegum.
“Hi Joan!” Tara said with a wave from the retrofitted lab counter at the back of what was intended to be a living room.
Funny how things that are meant to be and things that are so rarely seem to coincide.
To see the basement now, you’d be hard pressed to guess its original function. It looked more like something out of an episode of Bill Nye… an episode of Bill Nye with a dash of Sabrina the Teenage Witch. God, she really needed to stop joining in for TV marathon nights with Dawn and Randy.
Tara wore a matching pair of goggles to Willow. However, in addition, she had a suddenly very desirable nose plug that made her voice sound all funny.
Joan waved back at the blonde witch, trying her best not to breathe too much. Every breath felt like inhaling pure sugar. Where once there lived oxygen molecules, there was now only sucrose. She quickly strode over to her room where the door was blessedly shut. Hopefully that had been enough to keep a majority of the smell out. She tried the door, but it wouldn’t budge, like something had been wedged in front of it.
“Randy!” she called out, pounding on the door. “Let me in!”
She heard shuffling from the other side of the door and a second later it swung open, revealing Randy with his nose all wrinkled up.
“Put a rush on it Joan or you’ll let all the fresh air out.”
She wasn’t going to argue with that logic. When she was safely inside, he shut the door and quickly replaced the wedge that had been in front of it. She realized the wedge had actually been a towel, an attempt to keep as much of the smell out as possible. There was definitely a noticeable difference, like stepping out of a cotton candy vat and into a cotton candy factory. Okay so not the greatest of improvements, but she would take what she could get.
Thank you, Randy.
The blackout curtains were still closed and the only light in the room was artificial. The sun would be down in a little less than an hour. Unfortunately, that meant Randy hadn’t been able to open the window to get some real ventilation.
“So do our resident entrepreneurs have any plans on fixin’ that little dilemma or am I going to be snortin’ sugarcane for the foreseeable future?” he asked her.
“They’re on the case,” Joan assured with a grin as she handed over the mug of blood. “Brought you breakfast.”
“Always to the rescue,” he said, taking a whiff of its contents.
A bit gross, Joan would admit, but he couldn’t help the fact that he was a vampire. She knew Rupert hadn’t been too thrilled to have to store animal blood in the fridge either. But he wasn’t going to let his undead son get dead -dead, so no one ever complained. Despite Rupert’s outward jests and nonchalance toward his vampiric son, Joan knew that he was secretly looking into cures for vampirism in those dusty old books of his. She had caught him sleeping on one such text late one night when she noticed the study light was still on. But that wasn’t her secret to tell.
“I’ve been stuck down here all afternoon,” Randy continued. “Thought I’d lose my bloody olfactories.”
She rolled her eyes. “Melodramatic much?”
“I like to think of myself as just the right amount of dramatic.” He set the half-empty mug of blood aside on the dresser and picked her up effortlessly by the waist, giving her a spin around the room before setting her back down and pulling her in close. “You know, makin’ gallant gestures to impress the pretty girl. Comin’ up with those clever epithets. Makin’ all the other blokes jealous.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at him. He was ridiculous. But that didn’t stop the butterflies in her stomach when he spun her around the room or the way his silly professions made her feel all warm inside. Not that she would ever admit that.
“Don’t you need to get ready for work?” she reminded him after a moment.
Currently, he was only half-dressed with the key missing component being a shirt. His slightly damp hair indicated he was still relatively fresh from a shower.
“Mmm, s’pose so,” he replied, making no move to let her go.
“That would require you to make with the releasing.”
He mumbled a sound of agreement as he leaned in to kiss her.
“Ah ah!” Joan put a hand to his chest, holding him a few inches away. “You know the rules. No kisses ‘til you brush your teeth.”
He threw his head back dramatically and groaned, finally releasing her. “You live to torment me, woman.”
“It is my favorite hobby.”
He raised an eyebrow at her, smirking in that familiar way that caused his eyes to glint, before disappearing into their bathroom without further protest.
Joan leaned back on the bed and heard the sink faucet turn on.
“So any excitement I should know ‘bout?” Randy called from the bathroom. “Thought I heard a shriek earlier.”
“Oh Anya brought home a kitten.”
“Bloody hell. Don’t tell me this is the step-mum’s latest attempt to-”
She cut him off. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”
A couple minutes later, he re-emerged from the bathroom and pulled her to her feet, wrapping her arms back around his waist as he did so. “How ‘bout another one then? Feel like kissin’ me now?”
Instead of answering, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips that now tasted sharply of mint and not… that other thing she didn’t want to think about. He pressed into her, taking her bottom lip gently in his teeth, before leaning her back onto the bed. He really was a connoisseur of distraction. She let herself get lost in the moment for a minute, running her hands up his exposed back. With some reluctance, she flipped him over and landed on top of him, pressing both her hands down on his shoulders.
“You’re going to be late,” she teased.
She gave him one more quick kiss before getting up and tossing his shirt at him.
“Would’ve been worth it,” he replied, catching it in the air.
He sat up and pulled the simple black tee over his head. It wasn’t a fancy uniform, but it was straightforward and effective. Above the left breast was the bolded logo for the Bronze, and below that was the name ‘Randy’ written out in white, cursive print.
“You got the locket all patched-up,” he commented.
As he walked up to her again, she noticed the tug of a smile on his mouth, a slight squint to his eyes. With his bleached hair a bit mussed up from their brief tryst earlier, he was in serious danger of becoming very late for work.
She raised her hand to the grooved pendant. “Willow had it fixed for me.”
“Hmm,” he said, catching her hand in his. “Guess I can forgive the witch for turnin’ the basement into a variety shop perfume department.” He opened the locket and broke out in a grin. “You remember that night when we went down to the beach? You jumped off that dock and got stung by that damn jellyfish? Had a welt on your foot for a week while you hobbled about?”
She gave him a playful shove, snapping the locket closed again. “If I recall, I wasn’t the one panicking like I was on death’s door. Which, by the way, is really not the best way to handle a crisis.”
“Alright, alright,” Randy replied, snatching the towel from in front of the door and holding it open for her.
She wasted no time hanging around as the sickly sweet scent once again invaded her nostrils. After saying their aidus to Anya and Willow, who were now attempting to coax Hex out from behind the fridge, they started off at a leisurely pace toward the Bronze. A couple of the cemeteries were sprinkled along the way so they usually conducted a cursory sweep as they went. Two-birds, one stone kind of thing. At least it was a nice night. One thing she had to love about California was its consistently mild weather after sundown. Perfect for someone who had to be up half the night fighting the creepy-crawlies. And apparently also perfect for the creepy-crawlies, of which there were an over-abundance.
Randy hummed a low tune as they walked, breaking up the silence of the twilight hours. Her partner in crime - well, not crime - her partner in monster hunting. That’s how it had started anyway. An anomalous vampire who killed other demons and drank only animal blood. A vampire with a soul. One of the good guys.
One thing led to another and, well, two people in the workplace, fighting evil together… feelings developed. After all, they had so much in common: fellow amnesiacs, superheroes, dry sense of humor. A weirdly well suited match.
“How’s it lookin’ tonight Zack?” Randy asked the bouncer as they approached the heavy metal door that led to the Bronze.
Zack was wearing an identical shirt to Randy’s and was just opening the pointlessly riveted door for a group of five laughing students from the local university.
“Busy Friday night,” Zack replied, keeping the door open for them. “Save me a beer for the end of shift would ya?”
“Always do.” Randy patted him on the shoulder and entered the establishment, Joan at his side.
Zack hadn’t been exaggerating. The Bronze was busy tonight. It probably had something to do with the wrapping up of the academic year.
“You poppin’ off then?” Randy asked her as he headed over behind the crowded bar and tossed a small towel over his shoulder.
She shook her head. “Willow and Tara said they’d swing by later.”
“In that case, can I get you anything? Could fix up somethin’ fruity. On the house.” That earned a raised eyebrow from one of his coworkers and Randy rolled his eyes good-humoredly. “Alright, so on me then.”
“What’d you have in mind?”
“That’s for me to know.”
Without waiting for an answer, he turned away, keeping whatever mixing process he was doing concealed. A couple short minutes later, he set a translucent red liquid in front of her with a flourish. She took a sip and all she could taste was the grenadine.
“Does this even contain alcohol?” she asked him incredulously.
“Not a drop. Shirley Temple.”
“Very funny.”
“I have my moments.” As more people approached the bar to place orders, Randy shot her a wink. “Talk to you after shift, pet.”
She chuckled and wandered off into the fray, taking her unspiked drink with her. A band she didn’t recognize was playing upbeat pop songs with their lead singer doubling as their lead guitarist. The Bronze patrons certainly seemed to like her, the dance floor was packed. Joan spotted a recently vacated table near the stairs and made a beeline to secure it. She took a seat at the high-top to wait for Willow and Tara; sipping her drink, listening to the catchy set, and occasionally watching her boyfriend work on the other side of the room.
It really was the ideal job for him. He only ever worked nights. He got good tips. She could do without thinking about the girls who liked to pass along their numbers, but other than that it was all upside. Rupert had said that, as his son, he wasn’t required to pay rent, but Randy hadn’t agreed. Joan was pretty sure he just didn’t want his father to have something to lord over his head. The two of them could be incredibly childish at times. Stubbornly, endearingly childish.
A short while later, Joan caught sight of Willow and Tara zigzagging their way over to the table. They were noticeably less “experimental chemists” and more “date night darlings.” Joan took the fact that she couldn’t smell them from across the room as a promising sign.
“We have success! The smell is gone!” Willow announced, sliding into a stool.
“Ooh great! Now Randy can stop whining about his olfactories ,” Joan quipped. “How’d you do it?”
“Tara’s a genius,” Willow answered, squeezing her girlfriend’s hand.
Tara smiled back. “Just a little reversal spell.”
“Can’t say I’ll miss that one,” Joan said. “Did you see Rupert and Dawn on your way out?”
Tara made a face that teetered between amused and pensive. “Oh yeah. Rupert was… not as thrilled about the new bunny killing machine as Dawn.”
“So the cat’s staying then?”
“Oh yeah,” Willow replied with a nod.
Joan wasn’t surprised. Rupert had an undeniable soft spot when it came to Anya. She suspected he was still trying to make up for his former self, who apparently had had plans to skip town off to England to avoid their engagement. If Anya wanted a cat, she would get a cat. And no one else in the house had any objections. Only Mr. Fun Police could have a grudge against a kitten.
“Dawn a-adores Hex already,” Tara added. “She was the one who got her out from behind the fridge.”
For the first time, Joan noticed that Tara was sporting a new necklace. It was a gorgeous black crystal encased by a spiraling gold wire that hung on a delicate linked chain.
“Is this new?” Joan asked, reaching over to hold the oblong crystal.
“Willow made it for me,” Tara replied, beaming.
“Found the crystal in one of those ‘Willow’ boxes from your old house,” Willow explained. “It’s spelled with some sort of remembrance enchantment. Figured it was kind of fitting.”
“As if I could ever forget you,” Tara said, smiling softly, her thumb rubbing over the top of her lover’s hand.
The song that was playing faded out with a loud guitar chord before immediately transitioning into a fast-paced intro.
“I love this song!” Willow exclaimed, pulling Tara to her feet. “I say ridding the basement of eau de yuck earns us a little celebration!”
The trio abandoned their table and joined the crowd on the dance floor, a perfect end to the week.
***
Willow and Tara left the Bronze about ten minutes before Joan and Randy. And ten minutes past one in the morning, the latter pair set off to start their shift at their primary place of employment: the cemetery. It was thankless work, but that’s what superheroes were for.
Shady Hill Cemetery was the furthest of Sunnydale’s cemeteries from their new residence with its soft comfy bed and cool silky sheets and… god she was tired. It had been a long day. And it wasn’t over yet.
Randy lit up a cigarette - the flick of the lighter cracking through the silence - and exhaled a cloud of smoke as they passed through the wrought-iron archway that marked the entrance to Shady Hill. Please be a quiet night , Joan pleaded internally. They strolled through the older part of the cemetery with little interest - some of the gravestones crumbling to ruin with the names barely distinguishable - and set up watch near the newer burials where the freshly disturbed ground had yet to set. If any new vampires were going to claw their way out of their coffins, this was the most likely spot.
Randy took a seat on one of the wider headstones with one foot up on the ledge and Joan joined him, leaning her back against his. She rested her head against him, looking up at the few dim stars, while he continued smoking silently. The long hoot of an owl echoed through the rows of graves, a familiar cry for the dead who resided there. Just one of the cemetery’s other regulars.
Joan fiddled with the stake in her hand, twirling it around in lazy circles. Sometimes the superhero gig was more of a waiting game than the movies let on. At least she didn’t have to do it alone. That whole “lone ranger” stuff was overrated anyway. She liked having Randy around to while away the time with. In fact, some of their best conversations happened in the cemetery. It always felt like anything said there would be carried to the grave.
“What do you think we were like?” she asked suddenly, her voice carrying out over the sea of headstones. “Before?”
They hadn’t spoken much about what life might’ve been like before the group lost their collective memories. Well, they hadn’t anyway. Rupert and Anya were often speculating. Willow and Tara were too love-struck to care. Alex didn’t seem to want to know. And Dawn just enjoyed concocting wildly absurd theories to get a rise out of everyone.
Randy exhaled smoke through his nose in a huff, considering the question. “What? Before the Twilight Zone episode? I’d wager we were just like this. Fightin’ evil, stakin’ vampires.” He tapped the cigarette on the headstone, letting some ash sprinkle onto the grass. “I was completely mad ‘bout you.”
He said it matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, etched in some stone that would be there no matter what version of him found it.
Her mouth curled up in a bemused smile he couldn’t see. “Is that so?”
“Bewitched, beguiled, and besotted, pet.”
“How do you figure?”
He chuckled. “For starters, I’m not blind.”
She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. “Be serious.”
She could almost feel him roll his eyes. “Well, I told you I never wanted to bite you.” He paused, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Left out the part about how lookin’ at you was like lookin’ at the sun: somethin’ I thought I’d never get to see. Never get to feel.” He cleared his throat. “Now, I don’t get to watch the sunrise, sunset, or anythin’ in between, but I see the sun every day.”
She never knew what to say when he started talking like that. He would say she was his metaphorical sun and she would come back with something like “you fight good” or “I like your face.”
Finally she settled on, “You should have been a poet.”
She felt him chuckle. “I’d make a bloody awful poet.” He paused a beat, then said, “‘Course I wasn’t nearly as topsy-turvy as you were.”
That earned him another elbow to the ribs.
“Oi!” he yelped.
But before she could respond with a jab of her own, she spotted the earth begin to heave over one of the graves.
“Looks like we’re getting company,” she said, nodding towards the shifting dirt.
“Yeah, noticed that,” Randy replied.
Only he wasn’t looking at the ground. Instead his attention was turned to the two approaching vampires just a few grave markers away.
Chapter Text
Joan sprung up from her position on the headstone, muscles tensed to pounce, closing her fingers easily over her stake. She glanced over at Randy, who had also jumped to his feet, then behind them at the rising vampire, clawing his way up like some kind of freaky, newly-hatched turtle. A snapping turtle… a really big one.
“You want to take the dirt nap vamp while I get the other two?” Joan asked him.
“Ah Joan, that’d take all the fun out of it.” He smirked. “How ‘bout we take these two together, then come back for the worm food?”
She shrugged. “Works for me. You take left?”
He pulled his stake out of his waistband. “It is my good side.”
The oncoming vampires were growling now, beginning a wide flank of the two vampire hunters. Come to collect their freshly-turned initiate, no doubt. The snarling men were already all vamped out in the full-fanged face of nightmares and ghost stories; their dark clothes had clearly seen better days and their fair share of dirt. These two could almost pass as having recently crawled out from the grave themselves. But it was impossible to know, just by looking. Otherwise, she might know when Randy was turned.
The shorter and stockier of the two lunged at Randy first with the other lunging toward Joan a moment later in a coordinated attack. Randy dove down toward the ground, tackling his opponent far below his center of mass and sending him toppling over in a flail of limbs. Meanwhile, Joan sidestepped her overly-enthusiastic attacker, clotheslining him with her arm while simultaneously landing a backward kick to the sensitive side of his knee, buckling him. The vampire rolled away from her, making her next kick land softer than she had intended, in his thigh instead of his gut. He scrambled back to his feet to face her head-on once more, bobbing and weaving like some kind of ex-boxer. The bad kind.
“What are you doing?” Joan asked him, gesturing at his ridiculous stance and awkward motions.
The vampire looked affronted. “I- I’m getting ready to fight!”
“Uh-huh.” Joan landed a series of vicious punches to his head and torso, none of which he managed to block, before finishing it with a quick roundhouse kick to the head.
The vampire toppled back to the ground, his balance thoroughly shattered, and she rammed the stake into his heart. He combusted instantly in a cloud of ashen dust that settled lazily over the dewy grass of the cemetery.
Joan whirled back to the scuffle to see Randy pin his opponent and stake him with practiced precision. A few short paces from him was the wide-eyed new vamp who had witnessed the chaos and was now turning on his heels and making a break for it. Smart, if futile. Joan took off after him without hesitation, panting hard to keep up with his breakneck pace. This guy must’ve ran track when he was alive or something .
The runaway vamp’s coattails kicked off grave dirt as he ran that seemed to follow after him in a breadcrumb-like trail. Not that she needed it. Joan was gaining on him as he neared the edge of Shady Hill and she could hear Randy somewhere not far behind her. Just as the vampire reached the iron gate marking the exit, Joan dove and tackled him to the ground. He spun over, kicking her off him, and she stumbled backward, her arms trying to maintain some balance as she backpedaled.
Then Randy threw himself in the ring with a snarl, landing a punch before pinning down the scrawny vampire’s arms. Joan recovered quickly and finished the job. One stake later, and he was dust too. All in a night’s work.
When they got back on their feet, Randy took a step back and averted his eyes from her. He got like that… when he got all fangy - his blue eyes turned the bright yellow of a nocturnal predator. Joan could recognize the emotion easily enough, it was shame. Always shame. Night after night, it never went away.
“Randy-”
He chuckled and held up a hand to her. “Sorry, love. Just a minute, it’ll be gone in a minute.”
She gently lowered his hand down and let out a long exhale before shaking her head. “You know I don’t care about that. None of us do.”
She put a hand to his face and he shifted, back to those bright blue eyes still clouded with uncertainty.
“I know it's not what you want,” he said softly. “I know I’m a monster. But you treat me like a man, and that’s... more than I ever could’ve dared to hope for.”
She laughed and shook her head. “If you’re a monster, then the whole world’s damned.”
She hoped he believed her, but she had the feeling that he didn’t. Not really, not… fully anyway. And she could never understand why. He hunted demons with her - made the world a safer place - and he’d never hurt anyone. She thought it was maybe just hard for him to accept that he was… well, dead, while everyone else he knew was very much alive. Sometimes it was a little hard for her to accept too, but probably not for the reasons he would think.
She brushed a kiss over his lips and he put his forehead to hers for a brief moment before pulling away.
“Sleep now?” she asked hopefully.
He chuckled. “Yeah, I’d say you’ve earned it.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear that had come out of her ponytail during the struggle. “Exertion looks good on you. You glow.”
She rolled her eyes and slipped her arm in his. “Let’s go home.”
They made it a few steps outside the cemetery before Joan stopped abruptly, tripping Randy up in the process. She might have laughed at his uncharacteristically graceless fumble if the hairs on the back of her neck weren’t standing on end. Joan glanced back over her shoulder at the deserted street illuminated sparingly by the flickering city street lights. The old-growth trees cast ever-shifting shadows over the grey-scaled tableau, blurring the more detailed aspects. But one thing stood out. Only it didn’t. And maybe that was the point.
“That white van,” Joan said, staring at the van parked half a block away. “I feel like I keep seeing it.”
Randy frowned, looking over in the direction of the van. “Lots of white vans. Pretty popular model.”
Joan pursed her lips before starting off towards the darkened vehicle. It couldn’t hurt to look after all. Okay, so technically it could , but she had never been one to shy away from danger.
“Joan!” Randy exclaimed, following after her. “We can’t just go around peepin’ in people’s vans!”
For a vampire, Randy could be strangely concerned about the privacy of others. Although that may have had something to do with walking in on Anya and his dad in the backseat of the car that one time. He had had trouble sleeping that night.
“I just want to check something.”
But before she could get another step closer, the van’s headlights snapped on, temporarily blinding her. The van lurched forward and turned off immediately into an alley, disappearing behind the tall fences and bushes of the surrounding neighborhood.
“Alright, I’ll admit,” Randy said, “that was a bit weird.”
“Yeah,” Joan agreed, frowning.
***
After returning to the house, taking pains to remain as quiet as possible, they made their way downstairs to the marvelously inviting bed. Joan fell into the pillows face first with a sigh, draping her arm over the edge.
"And I'm the dramatic one," Randy whispered to her. "You sleepin' in your clothes? 'Cause you're getting dust all over the sheets, love."
She mumbled and rolled over. "Might be for the best. Wouldn't want to give you the wrong idea."
"Already got a few."
She laughed at him, pressing her face back into the pillow to muffle the sound. She didn't want Anya to start posting those 'Quiet Hours' signs up again.
She slipped out of her dusty clothes and moved back under the covers. He joined her, wrapping her up in his arms, resting his chin gently in her hair and moving his thumb around in slow little circles on her arm. She sank into his cool embrace, the temperature of the night air. It felt good after the exertion, one of the perks of an undead boyfriend.
"What do you think it was like?" he murmured into her hair. She could feel his lips move next to her ear.
"Hmm?"
"You never told me. What do you think we were like? Before?"
She struggled to stay awake and consider the question, her mind already fogging with sleep. What were they like? They could've been a million things.
"Maybe we knew you before you were a vampire," she suggested. "Maybe that's how your dad got into the whole magic business."
She wondered if he had been much different as a human. Probably not, what with the soul and his dad and all his human friends.
He chuckled softly. "You think?"
She shrugged, turning and smiling into his neck. "Maybe. Do you miss it? Being human?"
"Dunno. Probably not. Wouldn't be much good in a fight."
"Will you miss me?"
"What?"
She wriggled in his arms, barely holding onto the last threads of consciousness. "When I'm gone?"
He stiffened, before relaxing again and stroking her hair. "I'm not worried about it." He pressed a kiss to her head. "Sweet dreams, love."
No longer willing to fight it, she gave in to sleep.
***
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea, Alex,” Dawn commented, frowning up at him.
Alex was leaning over precariously on a ladder propped up next to the display window of the Magic Box, attempting to wire a series of string lights to accent their logo. Joan wasn’t sure it was a good idea to be using a wire stripper while teetering over on a ladder either, but who was she to stop him? He had that determined look on his face that he got when he was set on something. Which was oddly similar to the face he got when given a bag of Doritos…
“That new place across the street thinks they can one-up us, huh?” Alex muttered to himself. “Well, have they got another thing coming.”
Dawn blinked at him. “Alex, they sell tuxes and… men’s formal wear. I don’t think we’re in competition!”
“That’s what they want you to think!”
Joan snorted and Alex craned his neck back to look at Dawn.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” he asked, scowling. “It was a Monday last time Anya had me memorize the calendar.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Summer break. Keep up, old man.”
“Hey!” Alex protested, losing his grip on the ladder and wobbling dangerously before stabilizing himself. Joan wondered briefly if she should pull out the first aid kit now, just to be prepared.
“Told you it wasn’t a good idea,” Dawn stated with a pointed nod.
A ‘told you so’ maybe wasn’t the most mature thing Dawn could’ve said, but Joan was proud of her for being Alex’s voice of reason. It’d do both of them good. And it meant she didn’t have to do it herself. Not that the unreasonableness wasn’t entertaining to watch.
“What’s all this then?” Rupert asked, emerging from the back room where they seemed to also be the proud owners of a private gym. Super convenient for superhero practice.
Randy followed closely behind him, keeping far enough away from the window to avoid any long-cast rays of sunlight.
“Alex’s trying to one-up the tux shop across the street,” Dawn replied.
“ Tucks and Tux ?” Rupert’s brow furrowed. “By stringing up Christmas lights?”
“They’re decorative lights!” Alex called down. “Very flashy, chic, sure to be an attention-grabber.”
“Did- Did Anya put you up to this?” Rupert asked, straightening his glasses.
String lights didn’t really seem like Anya’s style, but she did like to bring attention to the shop.
“No! It’s called taking initiative.”
“Right, right.”
Joan turned to the newcomers. “So what were you two up to?”
Randy scowled and shared a look with Rupert that verged on hostile. “Pops here was just trying to impart on me the importance of the family business.”
Rupert sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just think a few courses in accounting could be useful. You can’t be a bartender forever!”
“And why not?”
“Because!” Rupert replied, exasperated. “Just because you’re a vampire doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to make something of yourself.”
Randy looked affronted and scoffed. “Oh? So I haven’t made anything of myself? The whole fightin’ evil all hours of the night’s just for kicks. Like my fun little hobby!”
Joan looked down with wide eyes and pursed her lips. “Sorry I asked.”
Dawn, who hadn’t been paying any attention to their bickering, suddenly looked to Joan and asked, “Do you think if Alex falls over and breaks his arm that Anya would hire me for a summer job at the Magic Box? I could use some mall money.”
“I’m right here!” Alex groused.
“Focus on your wires, light boy,” Dawn replied.
The second she said it, Alex jerked his arm back from the exposed wire he had been fiddling with and shook his hand rapidly, cursing under his breath. He probably shouldn’t be playing electrician while distracted. Or maybe at all. Did he even have any clue what he was doing?
Joan wrapped an arm around Randy’s waist and gave him a quick squeeze. “Come on honey, don’t you want to learn something new? I’m sure accounting courses aren’t… all that bad?”
He scoffed. “Says the girl who refuses to learn how to drive.”
“That’s completely different!” she replied.
“How so?”
“Well, I don’t- It’s not like I-” she sputtered. “I don’t need to drive!”
“And I don’t need to account ,” he responded smugly.
“Randy, I will pay for your courses,” Rupert pressed. “You just need to show up and do the work!”
“Seems courses take place during the day, don’t they? Don’t think my ashes will very well be able to take notes!”
“Online courses then,” Rupert rejoined. “Or night classes after sundown.”
“You could just try one class? See how it goes?” Joan suggested.
He exhaled loudly and looked down at her before breaking out in a sly smirk. “Tell you what, pet. I’ll try my hand at accounting, if you let me teach you how to drive.”
“Uh-”
“Oh, oh! Can I come too?” Dawn asked, jumping over excitedly.
“Absolutely not,” Joan replied. “I’m a hazard to the road. Maybe it was one of those things I forgot with the rest of my memories.”
“The goal is to make you slightly less hazardous,” Randy quipped. “Maybe Dawn could jump in on one of the later sessions.”
Joan sighed. “Fine. Deal. But if those grades slip below a B the deal’s off.”
“Thank you, dear,” Rupert told her gratefully.
Randy put an arm around his father’s shoulders. “Don’t worry Rupes, you’ll make a model citizen out of me yet.”
Joan snorted. The worst thing Randy was guilty of was speeding. Which, come to think of it, might make him kind of a bad driving instructor.
The bell to the Magic Box emitted a bright ring, indicating someone had entered, and nearly sent Alex tumbling off the ladder for… the third time? Dawn might get that summer job yet.
***
It was a weird night. The house was completely empty, except for Hex sitting up on the skyway twitching her tail and staring down at them. Dawn had gone to stay over at her friend Janice’s house to celebrate the end of school and their freed up weekdays. Willow and Tara were going to a small indie concert on campus. And Rupert and Anya were… well, she wasn’t really sure where they were actually.
“Well, since the other couples are on a date night retreat and Dawn’s over at a pal’s, I say we make our own little night of it,” Randy said as they stepped through the door into the oddly quiet house.
She raised an eyebrow at him as she put her coat aside. “And how would we do that?”
He shrugged. “A little wine, a little dancing. We got the place to ourselves.”
“Dancing huh?” she asked.
“I have a feeling I’m a good dancer.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
He grinned. “Sounds like a yes to me.”
She rolled her eyes as he went over to Rupert’s collection of records.
“You’re gonna play Rupert’s stuff?”
“It’s what we’ve got,” he replied. “I think dear old dad can still surprise us yet.”
He slapped a hand over his eyes and skimmed his fingers over the titles blindly. Finally, he landed on an album and tugged it off the shelf. He slipped it out of its case without looking and then placed the plain black record on the record player. He dropped the needle and turned the device on. Record roulette.
A jazzy musical intro began playing and he pulled her into his arms in the middle of the living room. It felt a bit like dancing in a library and she was struck with the feeling of being pulled back in time. The music was probably partially to blame.
“Do you know this song?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Song doesn’t matter. Long as I’m dancin’ with you.”
The song began in earnest with scattered scratches from the old record.
It isn’t fair for you to taunt me.
How can you make me care this way?
It isn’t fair for you to want me, if it’s just for a day.
Joan rested her head against his chest as they swayed gently together to the music. He rubbed a hand slowly up and down her back and she closed her eyes. At times like these, she could completely forget that he was a vampire and about all the things that went bump in the night. She could pretend that he was just a boy and she was just a girl and they’d live happily ever after like in the stories… if the stories talked about memory-wiped, star-crossed lovers.
It isn’t fair for you to fill me with those dreams that won’t come true.
It was a fairly sad song. Maybe not what she would’ve picked, but it was pretty. Randy rested his chin on her head and she sighed. Quiet moments were hard to come by in a house bursting with occupants. It was one of those rare moments of peace, and she intended to enjoy every second of it.
Why is it you came into my life?
And made it complete.
You gave me just a taste of high life.
If this is love, then I repeat, it isn’t fair for you to taunt me.
Randy pulled away slightly and spun her slowly in a soft twirl before returning her to his embrace. He held a hand against her hair and she felt him kiss the top of her head. She could almost fall asleep like this, wrapped up and rocking in his arms. Despite his lack of body heat, it was warm and safe there. The horrors of the night couldn’t touch them here.
The woman in the bluesy jazz song built up to her final line, marking the song’s conclusion.
It isn’t fair for you to want me, if it’s just for a day.
It ended on a high note with a dramatic call of trumpets. As it ended, Randy put a hand to her cheek and kissed her lips lightly. She attempted to deepen it, but he pulled away. He was such a tease sometimes.
“So love, how about that wine?” he asked.
She smiled. “Sounds great.”
He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, bowing like a gentleman and causing her to chuckle at him. Then he was off to the wine rack pulling out a bottle of red that she hoped Rupert hadn’t been saving for any special occasions. He swiped two tall-stemmed glasses from the cupboard and placed them smoothly on the marble counter. She took a seat on one of the stools while he made a show of pouring the glasses and swirling the contents around like some kind of wine connoisseur. He wasn’t. In fact, she was pretty sure he would drink pretty much anything without complaint. It was probably a vampire thing.
In the background, the record played on, more old jazz hits by the same artist.
I only know that you’re my dream.
I don’t know how it happened or how it came to be.
Don’t even know the reason why you mean so much to me.
He handed a glass over to her with a flourish. “My lady.”
She accepted it. “Cheers?”
“What to, pet?” He smirked.
She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Hmm. To new beginnings.”
He raised his glass and she tapped hers to his with a smile. When she took a sip, she knew he had probably taken a bottle Rupert would miss later. But it was too late to back out now.
I only know I’d give my life for you, and where you go, right there I’ll be.
I don’t know why I want to forever be with you, I only know that I’m in love with you.
He set his glass aside, then added, “And to some well-deserved peace and quiet.”
The moment after he said it, the lights cut out and the music abruptly stopped. She heard the record spin a few moments longer before stilling. Hex hissed from upstairs. Guess she wasn't a fan of the dark.
“You know this is your fault for saying that, right?” Joan raised an eyebrow into the darkness.
Notes:
Both songs are by Dinah Washington. The first one is It Isn't Fair and the second is I Only Know.
I was really torn about if I should include lyrics at all, but decided to keep them.
Chapter 4: Hello Stranger
Chapter Text
Stumbling around in the dark had not been Joan’s idea of a peaceful, romantic evening. Luckily for her, her boyfriend had night vision. Unfortunately for her, he also enjoyed watching her stumble around.
“Randy,” she hissed, reaching her arms out to attempt to feel her way across the room, “a little help would be nice!”
She heard him chuckle at her predicament from somewhere behind her and she whirled around, taking a few hasty steps forward before toppling over an end table and taking a lamp down with her. The pain in her shin sent her cursing as she sat back up and gingerly reached over to the fallen lamp. A moment later, she felt Randy at her side, placing the lamp back on the end table and helping her to her feet.
“Sorry, love,” he murmured as he took her firmly by the arm. “Let’s get those lights on, yeah? Can’t have you destroyin’ all the furniture.”
She glared at him - or at least in the direction she guessed his face to be. “Well I wouldn’t have knocked the lamp over if you would have helped me when I asked.”
Another chuckle. “Couldn’t help myself.” He released her arm before wrapping around her from behind and purring into her ear, “You’re adorable when you’re all thumbs.”
“What?”
“A klutz.”
She spun out of his grip and shoved him in the chest. “I am not a klutz! I dare you to say that again when the lights come back on.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked. She could almost see the teasing glint in his eyes that generally accompanied that inflection of his voice. “And if I do?”
She rolled her eyes. “Guess we’ll just have to sort that out after we get the lights back.”
“Hmm,” he hummed, wrapping her back up in his arms. Wrapped up like that in the pitch blackness, it was hard to remember anything else existed outside of their embrace. “On second thought, why rush? Don’t need lights for what I had in mind.”
He trailed a path of light kisses up her neck to indicate what exactly he had in mind and as she relaxed in his grip she found herself thinking that he was making a very good point. Who needed lights? Lights were for wimps. Totally overrated.
She turned around to face him, locking her hands behind his neck as he slowly walked her into the wall. Her slight disappointment at not being able to see his face was quickly overshadowed by the feel of his lips against hers, along with the knowledge that such absolute darkness should not be achievable unless the streetlamps outside were out as well. Unable to see even what was directly in front of her face, Joan relied entirely on feeling.
And sound.
She heard Hex hiss loudly before scrambling away, taking off at a sprint down the steps to the basement. Randy tensed in her arms, abruptly pulling away from her.
“I guess Hex is afraid of the dark,” Joan commented. As he resisted her tugs beckoning him back to their earlier activities, she raised a bemused brow. “And apparently she’s not the only one. Randy-”
He leaned down to her ear and whispered lowly, “Hush now. I think there’s someone in the house.”
Joan froze instantly, even going so far as to try to quiet her breathing. “Vampire?” she whispered.
It should be impossible - no vampire but Randy had an invitation to the house - but the idea that it could just be a regular burglar seemed almost ridiculous given her occupation.
“No,” Randy answered softly. “Human.”
Somehow that seemed worse. At least with vampires, she knew what to expect. She knew what they wanted. And she knew how to deal with them. Humans were harder to predict.
Joan wished she had some kind of weapon, but she knew stumbling around in the dark in search of one wouldn’t be all that helpful. Instead, she held onto Randy’s arm as he guided her back towards the living room. Before they could do anything more, she heard the soft click of the front door followed by nothing but silence.
She nudged Randy in question, but he didn’t respond immediately. They stood together in silence for a few arduous minutes, standing still as statues. Finally, she felt Randy relax.
“Whoever it was, they’re gone now,” Randy said, resuming his normal speaking volume.
While she was relieved the intruder had left, she couldn’t help but remain on edge.
“What the hell was that?” she asked him.
“Dunno,” he replied, equally puzzled. “Maybe they heard us and got spooked? No one was supposed to be home tonight, we might have spoiled their plans.”
“Unsuccessful robbery?” she asked dubiously. “That’s your theory?”
She caught his shrug when the lights suddenly returned, causing her to blink rapidly in adjustment to the onslaught of light. When she caught sight of the lamp she had mangled, she saw she’d managed to crack the glass base and winced. Rupert would not be pleased. Then again, Rupert would likely be too concerned about their uninvited guest to pay much attention to his damaged lamp.
“Well the sod obviously didn’t have a clue who lived here,” Randy said, “else he’d’ve known better.” When she still looked unconvinced, he added, “We’ll change the locks.”
She snorted. “I don’t think that’s necessary. We didn’t lock the door.”
“Oh,” he replied sheepishly. “Right. Guess we should be more careful.”
She couldn’t help but smirk. “What? Worried about getting chewed out by Rupert?”
He balked and she was grateful the lights had returned. There was no way she wanted to miss that face. “No!” he retorted.
She rolled her eyes, but left it alone for the moment. “Anyway… Since the mood’s ruined, why don’t we sign you up for that accounting class? Might make Rupert forget about the whole door locking thing.”
He didn’t respond, instead moving to the front door and snapping the deadbolt into place. “Who said the mood was ruined?”
***
Randy and Joan spent the next morning getting chewed out by both Rupert and Anya as if they were still a pair of irresponsible teenagers and not their adult tenants. Dawn watched on almost gleefully, amused by a scolding not directed at her, while Alex remained politely quiet if not a bit uncomfortable. Alex had been invited over for breakfast, not a lecture, and was getting a bit more than he signed on for.
Randy threw back his head with a sigh, his irritation finally getting the better of him. “It was just a lock, Rupe. We were home. Didn’t exactly picture some human just waltzin’ in like he owned the joint, did we?”
Rupert scowled at his son, although the menace behind the expression was somewhat muted by the fact that he was still dressed in his silky pajamas. Anya liked the texture and had bought him six pairs for their honeymoon. “With what the two of you do in your spare time, I would expect you both to take at least the minimum amount of precaution. I don’t believe a locked door is too much to ask.”
“Our spare time?” Randy shot back. “Again, it’s not a hobby .”
Rupert pinched the bridge of his nose, as he had a tendency to do at least once whenever talking with Randy. Joan had kept count, this was the fifth time so far.
“What if they stole something?” Anya interjected, dressed in a matching pair of pajamas. “This house is filled with valuable inventory! Rupert’s library alone contains thousands of dollars worth of merchandise!”
“A book?” Joan arched her brow skeptically. “You think they broke in for a book?”
Anya crossed her arms and huffed. “I don’t know, do I? They could have taken anything.”
“Maybe they wanted some of Willow and Tara’s crystals or something,” Dawn suggested as she finally brought her chair-swivelling to a halt. Joan was getting more and more tempted to superglue the chairs so she couldn’t swivel incessantly. “Those at least look valuable.”
Rupert sighed in defeat. “I will check the library for any missing volumes. I’m sure Tara and Willow can handle their own evaluation. If anyone else notices anything missing, please let us know.”
After unanimous agreement, Rupert retreated to the living room to go over his collection while Anya examined every other object in the house with unnecessary thoroughness. She even had a notepad on which she was meticulously taking inventory of everything from the paperweights to the wall decor.
“Well that could have gone worse,” Joan told Randy as he took a seat next to her and Dawn at the kitchen counter.
He shrugged. “S’pose so.”
“I wonder what they were after,” Dawn cut in, the disinterest in her voice contradicting her statement. Before anyone could respond, she immediately changed the subject. “So, are you guys coming to my volleyball game tomorrow? It’s the first of the summer league games so you have to hold up my number.”
“This is sounding less like a choice and more like a demand,” Alex replied good-humoredly.
Dawn beamed back at him. “It’s the illusion of choice. Don’t show and I sic Randy on you.”
Randy raised an eyebrow at the teen, but neither confirmed nor denied her assertion.
“Of course we’ll all be there,” Joan said.
***
“Stop! Anya, there’s no way in hell.”
“You said you would!”
“I lied!”
“Guess I’ll never learn how to drive,” Joan chimed in from the dining room table.
She was busy correcting papers for the seventh grade math class she was subbing for that week and Randy and Anya’s bickering was starting to grate. Randy sure could whine with the best of them.
Anya strong-armed Randy into a seat at the computer desk and shoved a pen and notebook into his hands. “Rupert already signed you up. Now sit down and learn something!”
“This is ridiculous,” Randy grumbled, opening the notebook with a dramatic sigh. “Vampires shouldn’t need to learn about accounting of all the hellish tortures.”
It was weird seeing Randy hunched over a desk like some kind of… of desk person. All he needed was a pair of glasses to complete the picture. And maybe a tweed suit borrowed from his dad.
Anya tapped him lightly on the back of the head for his grumbling, and he whirled to glare at her. “You are this close missy,” he hissed.
“Randy, behave, or you’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” Joan warned.
“Right comfy, it is,” he snapped back.
God, he could be stubborn. Thankfully, Anya was more than a match for him. Bless her soul.
Anya smiled brightly. “Well, it is a lot closer to my and Rupert’s room. We do try to keep it down, but with your enhanced hearing and all…”
Randy’s eyes widened at the implication. “Right. Yeah. Accounting. I’m so excited. Love to learn. Can’t wait.”
“Good because you’re already a day behind.”
Randy blinked at her. “What?”
“You were a late enrollment,” Anya explained.
“Bloody hell,” Randy muttered.
Joan couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out and Randy turned his glare on her.
“Keep that up, missy, and your first driving lesson will make the Autobahn look like a tricycle race,” he snapped.
She rolled her eyes, but didn’t bother pressing him further. She had papers to correct after all, and he no doubt was using quarreling as an excuse to procrastinate his studies.
While Randy and Anya continued their mild bickering, Willow and Tara emerged from their room upstairs, carrying an armful of thick poster board that they were careful to keep somewhat concealed from the rest of the group.
“Are you guys ready to head out to Dawn’s game?” Willow called down.
Joan finished marking the final grade on her last paper and beamed up at the witches. “All set!”
Randy jumped up from the desk, startling Anya back a few steps. “I love a good game of volleyball. We better get movin’. Wouldn’t want to be late.”
Randy’s obnoxious level of enthusiasm wasn’t exactly infectious, but everyone made their way to the front door quickly enough.
“Where’s Rupert?” Tara asked, shrugging her purse over her shoulder.
“He and Alex had to finish cleaning up a few more things after the newt eye incident this afternoon,” Anya replied. “They’ll meet us there.”
Joan was sure she didn’t want to know the details of the newt eye incident, so she smartly kept her mouth shut. Everyone else seemed happy to follow her lead.
The group piled themselves into Rupert’s red convertible - a bit cramped for the party of five - with Randy at the wheel and Joan in the passenger seat. As she spotted Willow, Tara, and Anya smushed shoulder-to-shoulder in the backseat, Joan couldn’t help but be a bit relieved that having her boyfriend as the chauffeur seemed to give her automatic shotgun rights.
***
The artificial brightness of the gym was a startling change from the rapidly falling twilight outside. The bleachers were already packed with spectators and the sounds of overlapping conversation, volleyballs smacking around, and yells of the girls calling for the ball made for a boisterous atmosphere. Dawn and her team were warming up on one side of the net while their opponents took the other side. Dawn was focusing intently on passing a ball with her friend, Janice. Joan couldn’t help but smile. Her sister was adorable in her uniform with her forehead all furrowed in concentration and her hair tied back in a tight braid. Not that she would ever tell her that, Dawn would hate to be called adorable when she was on the court. According to the clock on the scoreboard, the game would be starting in the next five minutes. Unfortunately, their somewhat late arrival meant that their choice of seating was more limited.
Anya strode expertly through the crowd on the sidelines, somehow parting through the onlookers like Moses through the Red Sea. Joan didn’t know how, but people seemed to generally sense and instinctively stay out of Anya’s way. It was probably her tendency to do everything with obvious - if somewhat intimidating - purpose, even something as simple as finding a seat in a crowded gymnasium. Joan wouldn’t complain, it saved her the trouble of doing it.
Anya found them all a place up high in the bleachers. It was a bit farther from the court than Joan would have preferred, but it was the best place out of the remaining options. Unless, of course, they wanted to sit on the opposing team’s side, which would just be treasonous. Willow handed out the poster boards she and Tara had decorated with Dawn’s jersey number, 19, and various motivational sayings. Everything was decked out in outlines of glitter and some even had pictures of volleyballs and nets drawn out on them. She handed Joan one that said “Volley From Dusk to Dawn” and Randy one that said “Spike It!”.
Joan raised an amused eyebrow at her friend. “You really went all out.”
Willow shrugged, a slight blush brightening her cheeks. “I thought it was clever! From dusk to dawn, get it? Because, you know, Dawn.”
Tara wrapped an arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders. “It was totally clever. All I could come up with was ‘spike it’ and ‘go team go’.”
“I like yours,” Anya told Tara. “Straight and to the point. The optimal form of motivation.”
Joan laughed. “I think they’re both great. Thanks for making them you guys. You’re total lifesavers.”
The buzzer on the scoreboard beeped loudly, jarring them out of their conversation. The two teams made their way to their respective positions and soon the game was in full swing. Dawn was first up to serve and her own personal cheering section held up their signs and shouted out encouragements, trying their best to ensure they could be heard from their distant position. The ball sailed over the net and the match was on.
“We come bearing gifts,” Alex said as he moved up the bleachers with bags of popcorn in each hand.
Rupert followed after him, carrying more popcorn, and they both took a seat in the group. Rupert sat down next to Anya, who eagerly dug into the popcorn, and Alex sat down beside Randy, handing a bag over to Joan as he did so.
“Did we miss anything?” Alex asked through a mouthful of popcorn.
Randy shook his head. “Game just got started, mate. How was the cleanup?”
Alex grimaced, a brief shudder running through him. “Very… newt-y.”
Randy only chuckled.
Joan was too wrapped up in watching her sister play to pay much attention to their conversation or the popcorn. So much so that she hadn’t caught on that Rupert was attempting to talk to her until Randy nudged her in the side.
“What was that?” she asked, turning to face Rupert.
“I said I didn’t find anything missing from my collection,” Rupert replied patiently. “Thankfully, everything was present and accounted for.”
Anya nodded. “Yes, I didn’t find anything missing either, and I conducted a thorough inventory.”
Well, nothing missing was a good sign. Right? Maybe she and Randy really had scared off the burglar before they could get around to burglarizing. She and Randy hadn’t noticed anything missing from their room either, which left only Willow and Tara.
“Well, we haven’t really looked too much,” Willow admitted sheepishly.
“But we haven’t n-noticed anything missing so far,” Tara added.
“I suppose that is good news,” Rupert said finally.
Crisis apparently averted, their attention returned primarily to the game.
During halftime, Joan volunteered for the water run after the initial popcorn dehydration. She figured it was the least she could do since Rupert and Alex had gotten the popcorn and Willow and Tara had made the signs. Randy had gone off to yell at the ref, something everyone had tried and failed to talk him out of. In the end, they had simply sent Anya along with him to police the situation. Which left her on water duty.
She turned away from the storage-closet-turned-concession-stand with seven water bottles filling her arms. Yep, that was her: Joan Summers, Watergirl. She picked up her pace, hoping to get back to her seat before halftime ended. She also wanted to check on that poor ref and make sure Anya had Randy handled.
“Buffy? Hey! Buffy!”
A short guy ran after her and tapped her arm, his face betraying his nervousness. He was dressed plainly in jeans and a striped t-shirt and had buried his hands in his pockets once he had her attention. It took her a moment to remember that her legal name was technically Buffy and he didn’t have her mistaken for someone else.
“Oh, yeah, hi,” she said after a confused pause. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I remember you. Do we know each other?”
He shuffled a bit on his feet. He seemed younger than her, but it was hard to tell by how much.
“Yeah, I’m Jonathan, you probably don’t remember me,” he replied, frowning. “I heard about what happened to you guys. Sorry about the amnesia thing. It’s like the Doctor from Star Trek, you know in the episode where-”
“Sorry, Jon, you lost me,” Joan cut in with an apologetic grin.
He looked down at the floor like he was embarrassed, then said, “Right. Sorry. Um, so, you know Warren and Andrew?”
When she blinked at him blankly, he stammered, “Oh, of course you don’t. Uh, well, the thing is…” He struggled to find his words. “Warren, he was the one with, you know, the whole robot girlfriend thing. And then Andrew, well, he’s Tucker’s brother, the hellhound guy.”
She wasn’t sure if Jonathan realized that what he had said made entirely no sense to her. Robot girlfriend thing? Hellhounds? It appeared he expected her to know what he was talking about. He sure was quick to forget she didn’t remember anything from before a few months ago.
“Um,” he said, before his eyes darted off to the side and he frowned. “I- I think we should talk. Somewhere more… less public. I, uh, think they’re up to something bad. And you, well, you might not remember it, but you really helped me out on more than one occasion. So, I figure I owe you one.”
Joan frowned. The tone of his voice was almost scared, halfway to pleading already. He also seemed to know about her secret identity and could maybe even help her fill in a few blanks in her memory. So she agreed to his proposal to meet somewhere more private and they set a date and time for the end week to meet at a local park.
When she returned to her seat to watch the rest of the game, she decided she would hold off on telling the rest of the gang about her strange run-in with Jonathan. She would wait until after their meeting before worrying them.
The strange encounter had made her completely forget about checking in on Randy and ref until Anya returned alone.
“Where’s Randy?” Joan asked as Anya took a seat.
“Oh, they threatened to kick him out,” she replied. “So I sent him outside to calm down.”
Joan sighed and rolled her eyes. He was a menace to refs everywhere. She really needed to get him a leash.
Chapter 5: Crash Course
Chapter Text
“It’s an automatic, Joan, nothing fancy. Just put it in reverse. It won’t bite.”
Easy for him to say. He already knew how to drive. Not that she didn’t know how to drive. She totally got driving… in principle. The execution was just a little off. Which was so not her fault. It was probably because of the memory loss. Granted, no one else had lost their ability to drive. Well, Willow, Tara, and Anya didn’t drive.
Okay, so she sucked at driving. When it came to killing vampires, Joan was a pro. When it came to vehicular machinery, she was a danger to society. Maybe society should just make wider roads and self-driving cars. Then she wouldn’t have this problem.
This was all Randy’s fault. She would be happy to remain an ignorant and blissful pedestrian for the rest of her days.
No such luck.
Randy was buckled up in the passenger seat of Rupert’s convertible with a textbook open on his lap and a pencil tucked behind his ear. He hardly seemed to be paying attention to her at all, but somehow he had still caught her deer-in-the-headlights look. It was a bit irritating that he wasn’t giving her his full attention when the driving lessons had been his idea. Although, he was studying, which was the whole reason she had agreed to the driving lessons in the first place. It made it harder to chide him for his inattentiveness.
She prepped herself with a quick breath, checking her mirrors with obvious trepidation, then shifted the car into reverse and backed cautiously out of the driveway. She released the air she’d been holding as she shifted back into drive. Step one down and the car was still unscathed. Success!
Randy looked up nonchalantly and threw an arm over the door. “Nice work, love, you didn’t even scratch the mailbox.”
She rolled her eyes and pulled forward, driving down the darkened residential street. One thing that really bummed her out about Randy being a vampire was that he couldn’t go outside in the daylight. Driving lessons would be less nerve-racking if she could see better and wasn’t worried about hitting the stray racoon.
“Where should I go, oh wise instructor?” she drawled, noticing he had turned his attention back to his textbook.
“Forward, preferably.”
Joan risked a glance over at him. He was still staring at his book with a look of utmost concentration and had even pulled out a notebook. “You’re not even paying attention.”
“Am so. Turn here.”
Joan was pretty sure she had heard once that it was physically impossible for humans to multi-task, something about the brain being incapable of truly focusing on more than one task at a time, but somehow Randy seemed to be doing it. Maybe it was different for vampires. Then again, most of the vampires she staked seemed pretty stupid.
Joan maneuvered the car around a tight right turn, barely missing the bumper of a parked truck. “You’re not helping at all,” she huffed, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “If I wreck Rupert’s car, it’s your fault.”
He sighed and raised an eyebrow at her. “You’d be doin’ just fine if you’d relax a bit.” In a blink, his expression shifted to a suggestive smirk and his hand moved to her knee before sliding up just beneath the hem of her skirt.
Joan yelped, jumping up in her seat as the car swerved through the deserted street. Randy easily corrected the wheel, his smug expression never wavering. Oh she was going to kill him. He was the world’s worst driving instructor.
She cast a quick glare at him before returning her eyes to the road, thankful that there hadn’t been traffic. “What the hell, Randy? I could’ve crashed!”
“You’re jumpier than Anya’s nightmares, pet,” Randy chuckled. “You can’t drive like that. You’ll drive yourself nuts, for one, and you’ll be the skittish chit that makes everyone around you nervous.”
“Thanks for the super helpful advice,” Joan replied dryly. “Just relax and don’t be skittish. Why didn’t I think of that?”
Randy tapped his pencil on the dash, ignoring her sarcasm, and waved it to the left. “Turn here.”
Joan waited for a solitary car to pass before making the indicated turn, then scowled at him. “Are you seriously studying right now?”
“We’re learning together,” Randy said with a shrug. “Call it couples bonding.” She scoffed. Yeah, ‘cause every girl was just dying for a study and drive date. “But I’m serious about the driving lessons,” he went on seriously. “You make a decision on the road and you bloody well stick to it. Hesitation confuses everyone and leads to that whole fire and death thing. Be clear about your intentions, and follow through. It’s mostly that simple. The rest is watching out for the stupid gits who don’t know what the fuck they’re doing.” He side-eyed her and smirked. “Right now that’s you, kitten.”
“Hey!”
She never should have agreed to this. Rupert totally owed her for putting up with Randy’s “lessons.” Could they even be called lessons? All he did was say “turn here” and mock her.
He slapped a hand on the dash and his tone switched to one of exaggerated cheeriness. “Don’t fret, Joan. When we’re through, you’ll be a pro.”
Joan grumbled her complaints under her breath, low enough that even Randy wouldn’t be able to pick out the words. At least, she hoped he wouldn’t. She didn’t want to provoke the guy she was trusting to not let her kill them in an auto accident.
“Turn here,” Randy instructed with a disinterested wave.
Joan eyed the large green sign for I-5 North. “That’s the ramp to the freeway.”
“Yeah. And?”
Joan balked. “But- I- Shouldn’t I be sticking to the residential streets? For, you know, learning purposes?”
“Who’s the instructor here?” he chided, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “Turn.” When he sensed her hesitation, he added, “Or the deal’s off.”
Joan bit back her retort and steeled herself for the inevitable, then she turned into the curve that would lead to the freeway.
The 5 was one of the busiest freeways in California, particularly near Santa Ana and basically anywhere around LA, and spanned all the way from the Mexican to the Canadian border. It also happened to be the busiest stretch of road within the Sunnydale city limits any time or day of the week. Randy had apparently decided to ditch the training wheels altogether and throw her directly onto a unicycle - like one of those ridiculously tall unicycles with the giant wheel where if you fall you’ll probably break some bones. Now that she thought about it, convertibles probably weren’t the best car to be in for a crash either. They were the really tall unicycles of the car world. Or maybe that would be motorcycles.
She pressed down harder on the gas pedal as she neared the merge point and her face paled. Oh god, there were so many cars. In front of them, the vehicles already on the freeway whizzed by going upwards of 70 miles per hour. Although that was the speed limit, it sure looked like most were going faster. Even the semis. Oh boy, there was a semi. She was going to hit the semi. It was hauling a huge silver tank filled with something it warned was flammable and soon it would be blocking her entrance to the freeway and running her into the ditch.
“I can’t merge! There’s a semi!” she shrieked at Randy, who looked entirely unconcerned.
“Speed up or slow down,” he replied calmly. “Pick something and stick to it.”
She was going to kill him. If they survived, she was going to kill him. It was like he enjoyed watching her panic. And where the hell did he get off acting all indifferent and bored? He was supposed to be helping!
“Randy!” she yelped even as she hit the breaks and slowed down. “There’s another car!”
“Put your blinker on.”
She snapped the left blinker down and swerved out into the right lane of traffic just behind the semi and barely in front of the car following it. She earned an angry honk for her efforts.
Randy stuck his arm over the door and flashed the car behind them a peace sign. She figured it was some weird way of telling them to chill.
“Eyes on the road love.”
“What?” she snapped, just as she faced forward and slammed on the breaks.
The semi had slowed down significantly and come to an abrupt halt. She barely avoided a collision with its bumper and earned herself another angry honk. Joan could feel her heart beating rapidly, her eyes blown wide at the near crash. The sedan that had been following behind them took the opportunity to speed around them in the other lane, seemingly eager to get away from the erratic convertible. She hated driving.
“Switch lanes,” Randy instructed, either oblivious or uncaring of her plight.
“What? No! The right lane is the safe lane.” Frowning, she took a moment while they were stopped to wipe her clammy hands on her jeans. She got more nervous driving on the interstate than fighting vampires in creepy cemeteries.
“The right lane is the slow lane, move over.”
He was actually taking notes right now. Joan decided he was not oblivious to her discomfort, he simply didn’t care. “No!” she protested.
“Joan.”
“Randy.”
He slammed his notebook closed on his lap and snapped a hand to his forehead. “This is what I was talking about. You have to grab it by the horns, Joan! Get aggressive!”
She glared back at him. “This is driving, not bullfighting!”
“Same principle!”
“Fine!” she snapped, turning her blinker on and nudging her way into the next lane over.
Oh boy, it was faster in this lane. The cars suddenly picked up to what felt like breakneck speeds and she was careening down the freeway in a deathtrap. Randy was grinning like a schoolboy in the passenger seat as the wind threatened to blow away his notebook and she wanted nothing more than to slap him.
“Now what?” Joan squeaked, jerking slightly as another car passed them.
Randy shrugged and went back to ignoring her.
“When we get out of this car, I’m staking you,” she hissed.
“You wound, love.” He was still smiling.
She wished she could cross her arms to convey her indignation more fully, but she was reduced to the occasional glare that she barely had time to employ properly. “I want off the freeway.”
“Then get off the freeway.”
As if it were that simple. Yes, I’ll just do that. Let me run down this SUV and I’ll just do that!
“How?”
“How do you think?”
Joan moaned. “We’re gonna be stuck on here forever. No, we’re gonna die. And I think I’m starting to sweat. I hate driving!”
“Well, you better figure it out, pet, or yours truly will be a big pile of dust in the morning,” he replied casually.
“You’re supposed to be instructing!” she snapped.
“You’re supposed to be learning. I like the hands off approach.” He smirked. “Well, in this case anyway.”
As much as she wanted to glower at him, she kept her eyes firmly on the road in front of her, too afraid to look away for more than a second. She hit the rumble strips for the HOV lanes and winced as another car rocketed past on her left, surprised they didn’t take off Giles’ mirror. Then she took a breath and flipped the blinker, preparing to switch lanes again.
After much honking and swearing and laughing on Randy’s part, she was able to make it back to the rightmost lane and take a random exit. Her hands shook as she pulled up to the stoplight at the end of the ramp as they returned to the land of residential roadways.
While he was all self-satisfied with his terrible brand of “hands off” instruction, she slammed the car in park and stepped out of the vehicle. She was tempted to fall to her knees and kiss the ground - the oh-so-stable, dependable ground - but she refrained.
“Oi!” Randy exclaimed. She felt a smug sense of satisfaction at finally attaining his full and alarmed attention. “What are you doing? This is a red light, not a parking lot!”
“Your turn to drive,” she replied, closing her door and walking around to the passenger side. “I am done . That’s plenty of drive time for me for one night.”
“Joan, get back in the car!”
She wrenched his door open and put a hand on her hip while he crossed his arms and raised a defiant eyebrow at her.
“I’m not moving,” Randy said.
“Come on, please?” she whined, holding up her hands. “Look! I’m still shaking from the terror! It would be irresponsible of me to drive in this condition!”
“Uh, Joan.”
“I can even side with you the next time you and Anya get in some stupid fight!” she bargained.
“Joan,” he repeated more firmly.
“What?” she snapped, becoming more and more irritated by his lack of agreement and now apparent avoidance of her entreaties.
He was staring in the rear view mirror and nodded back behind his shoulder. “Isn’t that your van?”
Her head snapped behind the car where they had stalled a van behind them at the now-green light, all thoughts of her stubborn boyfriend instantly forgotten. As soon as she looked the van’s way, it screeched forward and swerved around their parked convertible, screaming through the light and off to the right.
Joan’s eyes widened as she scrambled over Randy into the driver’s seat.
“Joan,” Randy warned.
She slammed the car in drive and lurched forward in a squeal of rubber. Randy braced himself against the door frame and seat back as she skidded around the corner after the runaway van. She wouldn’t lose it this time. This time she could be just as fast as her stalker. Maybe driving had its perks after all.
“Okay, Joan, maybe you ought to slow down a bit,” Randy said, his voice rising into slight panic, the first she’d heard all night.
“I’m not even going forty,” she protested, speeding up as the van’s lead widened.
“Yeah, but this isn’t the freeway, this is a residential street with lots of parked cars... and people... and... dogs,” Randy argued back, eyes wide as he pressed back against the seat.
The van turned down an alley and Joan swerved after it a minute later, the low-hung convertible jerking violently against the large ruts in the gravel path. Joan winced a bit at the sound of the undercarriage scraping the ground, but pressed forward regardless. She was so close, just a bit farther...
“Rupert is gonna kill me,” Randy groaned. The car gave another screeching jerk as she blew out of the alley and onto the pavement for a brief second before crashing into the next alleyway. “Hell woman! Slow down!”
“I’m losing the van!”
“Then let ‘em go!”
As Joan hit another pothole, the steering wheel bucked from Joan’s hands and veered off to the left. She yelped as she slammed on the breaks and the car crashed its way into a thick bush. Joan snapped forward as Randy’s hand shot out to hold her back and she closed her eyes against the impact.
After a still moment, Joan dared a peak at the damage. The hit wasn’t hard enough for the airbags to deploy and she felt fine. Randy had a gash on his forehead, but otherwise looked okay. Unfortunately, the bush had definitely seen better days and she had taken out the front bumper and one of the headlights. The van had vanished.
“Oops?” she squeaked, plucking a broken branch out of her hair.
Randy blinked at her. “Yeah, oops . Rupert is gonna kill us.”
She smiled back weakly. “Any last words?”
“You’re a bloody awful driver, love.”
***
Rupert, as expected, was angry for a variety of reasons: that his car would require expensive repairs, that Joan had caused damage to the car to pursue a “suspicious van”, reckless driving in general, endangering themselves and others, and Randy’s “irresponsibility”. Rupert spent the rest of the week grouching about and forcing them to take care of any and all car-related duties until the repairs were complete. They were also responsible for paying for the damages and Joan was banned from ever driving the convertible again.
Rupert had groused about how his car insurance would be going up and guilted Randy into continuing his accounting class despite the fact that Joan would no longer be receiving driving lessons. Dawn found the entire thing hilarious and joked about how she would be driving before Joan. That had sparked a heated sisterly argument that ended in threats involving clothes, scissors, and nail polish.
By the end of the week, Joan was thoroughly worn out from dealing with car repairs, busy patrols, and work. For some reason, it felt like the vampires could sense when she was already fighting off exhaustion and crawl out of their crypts in force. She and Randy had spent the last several nights out past four in the morning clearing out the cemeteries and the campus. Randy had even had to do a little double duty at work when he’d spotted some party crashers at the Bronze.
All of which was probably why she was really looking forward to tonight. The gang finally all had a free Friday night to hang out at the Bronze, and Alex was even bringing along a girl he had just started seeing. Rupert and Anya weren’t coming, they had some sort of wine date, but everyone else would be there. She just needed to get her meeting with Jonathan out of the way first.
She still hadn’t told anyone about her peculiar run-in with Jonathan. She knew she probably should have. After all, the meeting could potentially be some kind of trap. But Jonathan definitely wasn’t a vampire, so whatever he could dish out she knew she’d be able to handle. She didn’t want to spook Jonathan by bringing anyone else, and she figured if she told the gang they would insist on coming with. Plus, there was no need to get their hopes up that he might be able to tell them more about the whole superhero thing that he somehow seemed to be aware of. There was also a small part of her that was a little nervous of what he might say about it, and she wanted to hear what Jonathan had to say before deciding if she let the others in on all the details.
The cryptic little nerd had asked to meet at the park after sunset, all cloak-and-dagger-like. Joan thought it was a bit over the top, but had decided it would be simpler to humor him than argue over it. He had specified the meeting take place next to a tree near the swing-set that he said he would tie a ribbon to.
Joan found the tree easily enough. There was a yellow ribbon tied tightly around a low-hanging branch. The park was quiet and the playground was deserted, although the occasional pedestrian would walk by along the trails, sometimes with dogs in tow. Joan wished the populace would just stay indoors after dark. It would make her job a whole lot easier.
The large tree cast her in shadow as she shuffled impatiently on her feet, glancing periodically at her watch. Jonathan had said to meet at seven, but it was almost 7:30 and he still hadn’t shown. She would give him ten more minutes, then she was headed to the Bronze, Jonathan or no Jonathan. The guy was seriously cutting into her already limited down time. Maybe it had just been a weird prank or maybe he had changed his mind or maybe he had simply forgotten.
She looked at the ribbon again and carefully unwrapped it from the branch. It was definitely tied deliberately. This had to be the right place. It was odd that he would have tied the ribbon and not shown up to the actual meeting. Then again, maybe something came up. She sighed, checking her watch for what felt like the hundredth time. Was his information even worth waiting around for? He could probably find her later if he really needed to, it wasn’t like she was hiding. She didn’t even know Warren and Andrew, but from Jonathan’s description, she gathered they were most likely human. Besides, it was Andrew’s brother who had done the whole hellhound thing. And Warren apparently made creepy robot girlfriends, but that really seemed more disturbing than dangerous. For all she knew, Jonathan was going to tell her about their diabolical plans to lift some comics or rip off the arcade.
After fifteen more minutes of waiting, she left. Jonathan had clearly stood her up. What a jerk.
She tossed the ribbon in a trashcan on her way out of the park.
***
It was another busy Friday night at the Bronze and Joan was surprised Randy had managed to get the night off. Apparently, one of the other bartenders owed him a favor. Willow and Tara had secured them a spacious booth in the back, and Randy had provided a large bowl of fries for the table. Alex and his date had yet to arrive and the speculation surrounding his new special friend was in full swing.
“Do you think it’s Melissa?” Willow asked, dipping a fry in a healthy coating of ketchup.
“From the Magic Box?” Joan asked.
“She is in there a lot,” Tara agreed, fiddling with her new necklace absentmindedly. “And she does ask Alex a lot of questions.”
Dawn rolled her eyes like that was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard and she was somehow one to know. “No way. Melissa totally has a boyfriend.”
“How would you know?” Joan asked her with an amused - if skeptical - smile.
“Because I talk to people,” Dawn replied with a shrug that seemed more like a jab, tossing a fry in her mouth with a satisfied crunch. “And her boyfriend came in with her last week. He’s a paramedic.”
“So you’ve got the witch doctor and the doctor,” Randy chuckled.
“Well, she’s not really much of a witch,” Dawn said. “I think she just likes the candles. They’re extra smokey.”
Willow was staring at her like she’d grown a second head. “You are scarily observant.”
Dawn shrugged again, inhaling a few more fries.
More like scarily nosy, Joan thought wryly. She still hadn’t forgotten the few times she’d caught her sister snooping through her and Randy’s room. Dawn got plenty of her information through semi-dubious means and was not above using her discoveries for blackmail.
“Extra smokey huh? Explains why you two are always settin’ off the fire alarms with your voodoo.” Randy stood up from the table and let out a huff of air. “Well, I’m gonna fetch some drinks. What’ll it be?”
The three women all requested cokes while Dawn asked for a Shirley Temple. Then Randy was off to the bar. Joan watched him go, weaving his way through the crowd with preternatural ease. An upside of him being a bartender was that he was occasionally able to get discounted drinks and faster service. Could accountants get that? She didn’t think so.
“I think he just wanted to get away from the gossip,” Tara commented with a smile.
“Doubtful,” Joan laughed. “He’s a total drama queen.”
Randy and Dawn gossiped all the time, trading in those state secrets that Dawn squirreled away. Unfortunately for everyone, most of those tidbits regarded the other members of the house and Alex.
“Hey guys!” Alex exclaimed cheerfully as he approached the table.
“Alex!” chorused the table at his arrival.
He was dressed in some of his best “going out” clothes, which consisted of a pair of dark jeans and a blue button-down shirt. Trailing behind him and moving to stand at his side was a brunette woman with a pleasant smile and tightly crimped hair. She seemed a bit older than him, but the age range of the table was hardly uniform. No one even knew how old Randy was.
“Gang, this is my date, Hallie,” Alex said as the woman gave them a small wave. “Hallie, this is the gang.” He motioned toward the table and pointed each woman out in turn. “Joan, Dawn, Tara, and the fiery redhead over there is Willow.”
“It’s nice to meet you all,” Hallie said. She was the warm sort of polite, if not a little subdued.
“Nice to meet you too!” Willow replied enthusiastically. “It’s so nice to finally meet one of Alex’s… friends!”
“Yeah, we were beginning to think he’d be dateless all year,” Dawn added, picking at the plate of fries again. At this rate, she wouldn’t be leaving much for the rest of the table.
“Hey!” Alex balked, only moderately affronted. He was used to Dawn’s teasing, especially since he always seemed to take the brunt of it.
Hallie laughed as the pair slid into the booth next to Willow. At least she seemed to have a sense of humor. She’d need it, Joan thought with a grin.
“Randy just went to get us some drinks, but he’ll be back in a minute,” Joan told the new arrivals. “Then you’ll have met everyone except for Rupert and Anya.” Joan winced. “They’re supposedly having wine night, but I’m pretty sure that’s just code for night away from the hooligans that totaled my car .”
“Dear old dad will get over it eventually,” Randy said, depositing a tray of drinks smoothly on the table before sliding in beside Joan and slipping an arm around her waist.
“Wow, that was quick,” Joan commented.
Dawn had already snatched her red drink from the tray and devoured the cherry embellishment. Joan was thinking she’d need to order more food. That girl was on a growth spurt or something.
“Hallie, are you feeling alright?” Tara asked, interrupting Joan’s musings about Dawn’s appetite.
Hallie was staring at Randy with a strange expression, and she quickly glanced away at Tara’s question. “Oh, yes! Yes, I just…” she looked back at Randy with slightly furrowed brows, “you look just like someone I knew is all. My mistake!”
Randy shrugged. “I get that a lot.”
Joan was tempted to ask her who she thought Randy reminded her of, curious if perhaps she knew something about their lives before the memory loss, but decided she didn’t want to potentially spoil the night. It was probably an honest mistake anyhow. Randy really did get that a lot. Maybe he had a doppelganger walking around out there somewhere.
“So, Hallie, what do you do for work?” Joan asked brightly, trying her best to be inclusive and talkative since Dawn clearly seemed to think she wasn’t doing well on that front. She so talked to people! She talked to lots of people! She talked to the gang, and her students, and… and she talked to the vampires before she staked them. That counted.
“Oh, I’m in the justice department,” Hallie answered.
“For the state?” Willow inquired.
“Federal,” Hallie corrected.
“And how’d you meet Alex?” Dawn asked, swirling her straw around in her drink as she watched the newcomer curiously.
“We met at the hardware store, if you’ll believe it,” she chuckled wryly.
“You remember those lights?” Alex added. “Yeah, well, I kind of needed to replace some of the bulbs I shorted out and also get shock-resistant gloves.”
Hallie gave his hand a few conciliatory pats while Dawn suppressed a laugh.
They made a cute couple. A little odd maybe, but cute. And Hallie definitely seemed nice. Joan was glad Alex had found someone after his majorly weird - albeit mutual - breakup with Willow.
“So Alex told me you lost your memories?” Hallie switched to a new conversation topic. “That must’ve been terrifying.”
Joan chuckled. “It was… extremely disturbing.”
Dawn snorted. Yeah, waking up to a gang of vampires trying to bust down the door was a bit more than extremely disturbing, but it wasn’t like they could just tell Hallie that. She’d think they were all crazy and it seemed like a bad way to start off a new relationship.
“It was pretty disorienting,” Willow agreed. “But I’d say we’re adapting pretty well.”
Willow and Tara shared a smile as they reached to interlock their hands. It was clear where their heads were at. The memory loss was the reason they were together, so something good had come out of the whole freaky situation for them.
Joan leaned into Randy a bit, wondering if they would’ve been together if it wasn’t for the strange happenings of that day. Or if perhaps they already were, and she was missing out on a bunch of good memories.
Joan usually tried not to think too much about it. It was better to stay in the here and now.
“And you never figured out what caused it?” Hallie asked, shaking her head. “How strange.”
“The strangest.” Dawn nodded. “We stumped their head guy.”
“Head guy?”
“Head doctor guy,” Alex elaborated, leaning toward her ear. “Expert in neurology. We had him climbing the walls.”
It was true. The “head guy” had been equal parts fascinated and flabbergasted by their case. Joan was pretty sure he wanted to use them for some sort of research paper. Unfortunately for him, he was never able to figure out what the hell had caused their amnesia. Of course, he never even saw Randy, what with him being undead and all. And what could cause memory loss in both humans and vampires?
The conversation drifted to lighter topics that didn’t involve glossing over details about vampires or freaky amnesia or magic. Perhaps if Hallie stuck around and things between her and Alex evolved, they would pull her into the fold, but for now it was better she remained in the dark on certain aspects of their lives. It was a good thing Alex didn’t live in the house. He would’ve never been able to bring anyone home for any extended periods of time, what with Willow and Tara’s lab in the basement, all of Rupert’s occult books, and Randy’s blood in the fridge.
There was dancing and more drinks and more food for Dawn. Hallie, despite her initially muted demeanor, was actually very extroverted and traded quips with Alex regularly throughout the night. She was also an enthusiastic dancer and made an effort to dance with everyone in the group. By the end of the night, the general consensus was that Alex had found a keeper.
The party stayed until eleven, then decided to head back to the house for a late-night movie with lots of popcorn. Randy and Alex chauffeured everyone home and the lights indicated Rupert and Anya were likely already back from their date.
“Looks like you’ll get to meet Rupert and Anya after all,” Alex told Hallie as they made their way up the drive to the front door. “They’re not so bad once you get to know them. Just, uh, don’t say anything about bunnies.”
Hallie gave him a quizzical look, but didn’t press him further on why rabbits were a taboo topic.
“And don’t touch the books,” Randy added, rolling his eyes. “Rupert gets testy about the books.” He paused for a moment, reflecting on his statement, then said, “On second thought, you should definitely read some of the books. They’ve got lots of fun pictures.”
Joan elbowed Randy in the ribs, trying to get him to shut up. He only grinned down at her and pulled her closer to his side so she couldn’t put any force behind the blow. It was no wonder Randy and Rupert were quarreling constantly when all they ever did was antagonize one another. They were relentless.
The group surged through the door, bringing chaos into an otherwise peaceful atmosphere. Rupert and Anya were seated at the kitchen counter enjoying more wine from a half-empty bottle in front of them. It seemed they had taken wine night home with them. It reminded Joan a bit of her and Randy’s impromptu date at the house. Randy and Rupert seemed to have more in common than either man would like to admit.
Before any greetings or introductions could be made, Hallie let out a surprised gasp.
“Anyanka?!”
Chapter 6: It Must Be Bunnies
Chapter Text
“Anyanka? Is that you?” Hallie asked again, looking directly at a wide-eyed and thoroughly bewildered Anya.
The accused party was still dressed up from her and Rupert’s date in a long black number, her hair pulled up into a loose updo that left wisps of hair fall to frame her face. An elegance that was put into sharp contrast with the group of ruffians that had just invaded the foyer with a stranger who appeared to know her. Anya eyed her half-full wine glass warily before setting it down on the counter with uncharacteristic gingerness.
Hallie’s sudden exclamation had managed to stun everyone speechless for a few moments as they exchanged puzzled looks. Even Hex had peeked her head out from around the basement door frame to stare curiously at the scene, her eyes fixed on the newcomer to her home. Joan would admit that she wasn’t sure how Hallie seemed to recognize Anya and not any of the rest of them, not even her husband, Rupert. Of course, stranger things had happened.
They should know. They were the epitome of stranger things.
Alex seemed completely blindsided by Hallie’s apparent recognition of his fellow amnesiac, blinking rapidly, eyes darting unsubtly between Hallie and Anya. “You two, uh,” he gestured between the two women, “know each other?”
Anya shook her head and frowned, her face screwed up in consternation. “I don’t recognize this woman, Alex. Why is she here?”
To anyone who didn’t know Anya, her reaction would seem like a rebuff. In reality, it was simply Anya’s intrinsic blunt nature her housemates had all grown to know well.
“It’s me!” Hallie insisted. “Halfrek! We only worked together for a thou-” She stopped herself abruptly and chuckled. “What felt like a thousand years!”
Well, this was awkward . Just like it always was when they ran into someone their old selves knew and had since forgotten.
“Buffy! How have you been?”
“Um… sorry, who are you?”
“Uh, it’s Todd? We worked at the Doublemeat together?”
“We did?”
“Right… uh, yeah… I try to block out the memories too.”
Joan was sure it would stop happening… eventually.
But apparently not today.
“Halfrek?” Alex repeated.
“My full name, dear,” Hallie replied simply, almost patronizingly.
“Yes, well, I’m sorry to say, Halfrek, that Anya won’t remember you,” Rupert interjected with a sympathetic smile. “We all had something of an incident of amnesia a few months ago and have not gotten any closer to reversing the effects.”
“Oh, I see,” Hallie said thoughtfully, her mouth turning down into a frown. The look she was giving Anya could be called anything from concern to chagrin and still not be entirely accurate… or inaccurate, for that matter. “Anya, could I speak to you in private for a moment?”
Anya glanced over at Rupert for some kind of reassurance and shrugged. “I guess so.”
Anya gestured for Hallie to follow her out to the back patio - her now heelless feet allowing her dress to drag across the floor - and, as the sliding door closed behind them, Rupert turned his attention back to his regular intruders to inquire about the newest intruder.
“That’s Hallie,” Alex answered. “The girl I told you about.”
Rupert smiled indulgently. “Well, she’s certainly… vocal.”
Rupert wasn’t wrong. Hallie had practically screeched when she had spotted Anya. The girl had pipes.
“I think she was excited,” Alex replied, chuckling. “They must have been friends.”
Joan caught Dawn sighing at the unexpected turn of the night, her eyes trailing wistfully over to the TV in the living room. The boring adult catch-up and chat over tea wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. After Joan suggested she go choose a movie, the teenager perked up and scampered off to the console to dig into the VCR selection. Willow and Tara seemed to recall the original purpose of inviting Hallie to the house and began preparing a stockpot to make popcorn. It seemed the night would go on as planned despite the surprise reunion.
Before the witches could even add the kernels to the pot or Dawn could choose a movie, Anya barged back into the kitchen. Her face was flushed and her eyes were wide as saucers as she immediately latched onto Rupert. Hallie followed quickly after her, looking alarmed as Anya swiveled to point at her.
“She said I was a demon!” Anya accused. “Tell her I’m not a demon, Rupert!”
Rupert stared at his wife for a moment before removing his glasses and furiously polishing the glass.
“Demon?” Alex chuckled nervously. He had instantly jumped at Anya’s words and was now doing his best to look as dodgy as possible. “What? There’s no such thing as demons… or vampires. Certainly none of us! I mean-” Joan elbowed him in the ribs - needing desperately to shut his rambling up - and he yelped, glancing at her sheepishly while his shoulders hunched.
“Yes,” Rupert stated finally, returning his abused glasses securely to their perch. “Anya is most certainly not a demon.”
Hallie sighed wearily, as if she were being forced to explain something that should be common knowledge for the hundredth time, and rolled her eyes. “Well, not right now she’s not. But she was.”
“And you would know this, how?” Joan questioned, suddenly wishing she had a stake on hand. It was one thing for a Sunnydale resident to suspect, or even believe in, the existence of demons. It was another for them to so emphatically and unconcernedly announce that their friend was one.
“We worked together for a thousand years! Literally!” Hallie insisted. “I’m a justice demon!”
By the looks on the gathered faces, it was obvious no one knew what she was talking about or truly believed her. Joan found it extra weird that a demon would admit to being a demon in front of her and Randy, but perhaps this demon didn’t know they were sort of the local demon hunters. Although usually those demons were vampires. This demon had just walked right into the house, no invitation needed.
Hallie let out another long-suffering sigh, registering their disbelief, and she straightened. One moment Hallie looked like a regular woman, and the next she looked like someone had removed all her skin and left the muscles beneath on full, gruesome display. Alex screeched and took cover behind Randy while Dawn’s eyes widened comically as she fell back on her butt onto the carpet.
Rupert stood from his chair and immediately moved to the bookshelf, snatching a volume from the shelf and flipping quickly through the pages with intent. He had been studying those books religiously since they’d lost their memories in search of a cure and no doubt had run across mention of such a demon in his perusals. “A vengeance demon, you say?”
“ Justice demon,” Hallie corrected.
Rupert straightened his glasses that had slipped down his nose, scanning quickly over the words. “If this is to be believed,” he nodded to his book, “they grant wishes.”
“Uh, so should I be making with the staking?” Joan asked, leaning over to catch Rupert’s eye.
“Staking?” Alex balked, recoiling away from her. “You can’t stake my… I mean, she’s-”
“My coworker?” Anya suggested.
“What? No!”
“A genie?” Dawn offered.
“A new type of nasty to kill?” Randy tilted his head at Hallie appraisingly.
“A vengeance demon grants wishes to those seeking revenge,” Rupert recited from his book, interrupting their unhelpful - if not somewhat amusing - speculation. “The wishes are often expressed by the victims unknowingly, and the demon typically takes creative license to distort the wish to its most volatile interpretation. The modern-day depiction of genies and the expression ‘be careful what you wish for’ can be partially attributed to such demons. Unusually, a vengeance demon’s power center is located in a pendant that is carried on their person at all times, the loss of which results in a loss of their power.”
Hallie nodded. “And Anya lost hers.”
“Well that’s just ridiculous,” Anya scoffed. “I never lose things!”
“So… you’re a demon, huh?” Alex asked Hallie, bobbing his head in an attempt to seem casual, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. “Guess that’s maybe not a great conversation starter for a first date.”
Hallie smiled sympathetically and patted his hand. “Sorry, Alex. You’re really very sweet.”
“You know, I always knew I got the evil step-mum,” Randy commented with a shit-eating grin. “But I will admit, it’s nice to have confirmation.”
“Randy!” Anya and Rupert snapped as one.
Joan elbowed him on their behalf, eliciting another grin that didn’t look chastened in the least. The man couldn’t seem to help himself when it came to an opportunity to rile up his father.
“Um… so, what is it you’re d-doing here then?” Tara piped up softly. “Granting wishes?”
“Well, I-,” Hallie stammered, glancing back and forth between Rupert and Randy. “I just thought that someone might have need of my services, but I can see I was mistaken!”
Joan crossed her arms, unsure as to whether they should be letting Hallie go. “There will be no wish granting.”
Joan wasn’t really sure what she should do. It seemed wrong to kill Alex’s sort-of-girlfriend, even if she was a demon. And Hallie hadn’t actually done anything wrong… yet… that they knew of.
“Well, should we take this outside, pet?” Randy asked her. “Wouldn’t want to bust up the walls.”
“What?” Joan asked, snapping back to the conversation.
“You know, to fight,” Randy explained slowly, as if he were speaking to a toddler. “That hobby of ours.” The last sentence was aimed pointedly at Rupert.
Hallie scoffed and backed up a few paces. “There will be no killing of the justice demon.”
“But I can’t have been a demon,” Anya whined, her expression stricken. “I don’t feel evil.”
“That’s very hurtful, Anyanka,” Hallie replied.
This conversation just keeps getting weirder. And it really wasn’t helping Joan decide what she should be doing. Maybe Rupert’s books would know what to do?
“So, does that mean you don’t want to get dinner next Friday?” Alex asked.
“Alex!” Willow hissed across the counter. “Shh!”
“Guys?” Dawn attempted to interject while being talked over. “Movie?”
“Alex, I don’t know if it’s appropriate for you to be dating a thousand year old demon,” Rupert said.
Add that to the list of words I never thought I’d hear strung together in quite that way, Joan thought ruefully.
“You married one!” Alex protested.
“I’m not a demon!” Anya snapped.
“Excuse me?” Randy balked, affronted. He raised his hand next to his head and gave a terse wave. “Demon here.”
“Yeah!” Alex latched on to Randy’s words. “Your son’s a demon too! You’re like some kind of demon magnet!”
“Popcorn?” Dawn added weakly.
“That’s- that’s different,” Rupert blustered.
Alex crossed his arms. “Joan’s dating a demon.”
“That’s- it’s different!” Joan echoed Rupert.
“I can see you have a lot to work out,” Hallie said awkwardly, pressing her hands together. “I’ll just leave you to that. See you later, Anyanka!”
With a snap of her finger, Hallie disappeared in front of their eyes. Well… that was new. Where was the whole ‘oh, by the way, vengeance demons can teleport!’ disclaimer in Rupert’s demon encyclopedia? That seemed like pretty important information to know!
“Does that mean ‘no’ to Friday?” Alex mumbled dejectedly.
“Do you think we should hunt her down?” Joan asked Randy, her lips pressed together in a thin line of worry and uncertainty.
He shrugged. “Dunno. We’ve never seen a vengeance demon before. Don’t know if we’d’ve ever known what Hallie was if it weren’t for step-mum here.”
Anya was sitting rigidly at the counter, her arms crossed protectively over her chest, clearly shaken from the encounter with her supposed friend. Willow and Tara immediately moved to embrace her, enveloping her in a comforting shield.
“It’s okay, Anya,” Willow reassured. “It doesn’t matter what you used to be. You’re still just you.”
“Quite right,” Rupert agreed softly, taking his wife’s hand and pressing a kiss to her palm.
Anya burst into tears at the gesture, and Randy and Joan could do nothing but shuffle awkwardly near the counter as they watched the hugfest. Alex was still staring at the spot where Hallie had vanished, and Joan wasn’t quite sure he was registering anything happening around him yet. Joan wrapped her arm around his shoulders and gave him a quick squeeze. It had to be tough to find out your sort-of-girlfriend was a demon.
When Anya had settled, the witches released their hold and Rupert took their place, holding Anya close to his side and guiding her over to the living room sofa while she sniffled.
“Tissue?” Dawn offered, holding out a box to Anya.
Anya snatched up a tissue gratefully as her and Rupert settled into the cushions.
“So,” Dawn said brightly, turning to the rest of the group, “how about that movie?”
***
Joan was having a great day. She had wrapped up all her summer work for the school district and was free and clear until September. Then she had stopped by the Espresso Pump to grab something chocolatey and full of sugar, and now she was headed home to pick up Dawn and go on a sister’s mall trip.
Dawn was particularly eager to be out of the house today since Willow and Tara were packing up a huge shipment of charms that tended to clutter the floor and sound like a herd of elephants lived in the basement. She was lucky; she could get away. Poor Randy just had to put in his earplugs and hope for the best. He really took the brunt of the fallout from the witches’ in-home business.
Joan entered the house to find the now-familiar ruckus of Shipping Day in full swing. Rupert and Alex had smartly decided to retreat to the Magic Box while Anya assisted Willow and Tara with printing off shipping labels and organizing packages.
“Oh good, Joan, you’re here!” Anya commented, a pen tucked behind her ear and a clipboard in hand. She picked her way through the maze of packages, bags, and boxes littering the kitchen and living room floors and gestured for Joan to follow her to Rupert’s office. “I caught something weird on the bunny cam.”
They managed to reach Rupert’s office without tripping and minimal damage to Willow and Tara’s merchandise.
“Bunny cam?” Joan inquired skeptically. She knew Anya had never given up on searching for solutions to their supposed bunny “problem”, but she didn’t realize she had started incorporating modern-day technology into the endeavor.
Anya seated herself at Rupert’s desk and waved her hand at the computer monitor in front of her. “Yes. I installed it last month. You can’t be too careful.”
Joan shook her head. Anya couldn’t be serious. Oh who was she kidding? Anya was completely serious. She didn’t joke about bunnies, much as it might sound like it sometimes. They had found a name for what Anya had: leporiphobia , a phobia of rabbits. Joan still couldn’t pronounce it.
“You- you installed cameras to watch for bunnies?” Joan blurted. “And you didn’t tell us?”
“Why would I bother? You’re not a rabbit,” Anya huffed. “Besides, you all think I’m being silly about the bunnies. Don’t come crying to me when they kill us all in our sleep.”
Joan held a hand up to her head and heaved a sigh. She just hoped the camera hadn’t caught anything compromising regarding the residents of the house. “You said you saw something?” She paused for a moment as Anya clicked around on the computer. “I assume this something is unrelated to the whole bunny surveillance you have going, right?”
Anya rolled her eyes. “Yes, Joan, don’t worry. I know you won’t lift a finger to help with my efforts to protect our lives and livelihood.”
Anya waved Joan over and scooted her chair to the side to make room in front of the screen. Joan looked at what appeared to be a recording of their front yard bushes planted up against the house. The whole screen glowed with an electric green light that helped illuminate the darkness.
“Did you really buy a night-vision camera?” Joan asked incredulously.
Anya glared at her, irritated, and brushed off, “Of course. I take this seriously, Joan.”
For a while, nothing happened on screen but the slight sway of the leaves. Then, someone crept into the frame wearing all black and glancing around furtively, his eyes shining in the strange gleam of the camera. He was followed by two others, dressed the same, all moving along in a clumsy crouch. Anya paused the recording when all three guys were in the frame.
“When was this?” Joan asked, brows furrowed in concentration as she examined the intruders’ faces.
“The night of the blackout,” Anya replied simply. “Looks like we found our burglars.”
Joan pointed at the last guy in the line, his pixelated head turned back to look over his shoulder and exposing his face almost fully to the camera. “That’s Jonathan!”
Anya tilted her head. “Who?”
“Jonathan,” Joan repeated, shaking her head at the coincidence. “I met him at one of Dawn’s volleyball games. He said he knew me - Buffy me - and we were going to meet up later, but he never showed.” Joan frowned, trying to remember the particulars of the conversation. “He said, um, that some guys named Warren and… Andrew were up to something bad.”
“And you think the other two burglars are Warren and Andrew?”
Joan shrugged. “Maybe, I don’t know. It didn’t seem like Jonathan was really on board with whatever they were doing, but he’s clearly helping break into our house here.” He could have turned… turncoat? It was possible. Maybe that was why he never showed up to their meeting. Maybe he was caught by his accomplices. “And I’m not sure it was a burglary. Jonathan was saying all this weird stuff about robots and hell dogs or something. I think these guys might be into some magicky demon stuff.”
“Magicky demon stuff?” Anya drawled dubiously.
“Oh, you know what I mean,” Joan replied impatiently. “We’ve gotta find these guys, figure out what they’re up to.”
She just wished she knew more than their first names and some identifying information she couldn’t repeat to any normal person without sounding nuts.
Normal person.
That gave her an idea.
“Um, Anya,” Joan started innocently, “you wouldn’t happen to, you know, still be able to contact Hallie, would you?”
Anya blinked at her in surprise. “Hallie? You want me to talk to a vengeance demon?”
“Not talk… interrogate! Like a detective!”
Anya didn’t seem entirely convinced. “Well… I suppose I could try. She did say she’d see me later… I’m not sure when later is though.” She thought for a moment, then added, “I could try to find a summoning spell.”
“That would be great!” Joan exclaimed enthusiastically. “Thanks, An!” She tried not to think too hard about how she had just asked Anya to summon a dangerous demon for her, but she didn’t miss Anya’s tight frown of disapproval.
“Joan!” Dawn called from the kitchen. “Hurry up! You’re cutting into mall time!”
“I’ve gotta run.” Joan shot Anya an apologetic smile and hurried to the door. “Don’t summon any demons without me!” she threw over her shoulder as she breezed out of the room.
Joan returned to the kitchen to see Dawn holding Hex up over the sea of colorful packages like Simba, her small body extended to the limit, legs dangling. The cat squirmed a little in Dawn’s grip, but didn’t seem to be putting up much of a fuss over the treatment.
“What are you doing?” Joan chuckled.
“Well, I was trying to keep her from eating the boxes,” Dawn explained, “then it just kinda… escalated?” Dawn set the kitten back on its feet. It glanced up at her inquiringly, kneaded its claws into her jeans, then stalked away, tail swishing, before immediately pouncing on some wrapping paper. “It’s a lost cause.”
“Maybe we can get her some toys at the mall.”
***
Later that night, Joan explained the Jonathan situation to Randy as they patrolled, including how he had been one of the intruders on the night of the blackout.
“Why would a bunch of humans be sneaking around us?” Randy asked when she was finished.
She shrugged, kicking at the grass as they strolled through Restfield Cemetery. “Not sure. Bad witches?”
“Well, that might explain why I couldn’t find them.” Randy arched an eyebrow at her. “You think they were after Willow and Tara’s stuff?”
She shrugged again. “Could be. Hard to say without our memories.”
“And you’re sure summoning a vengeance demon is a good idea?” The tone of his voice seemed to imply he was doubtful of it. She couldn’t blame him; she was doubtful of it.
“Maybe? I don’t know. How else would we find them?” Randy frowned, but didn’t answer. “Besides, as long as no one goes making any wishes, it’ll be fine, right?”
Randy looked unconvinced, but said, “I’ll follow your lead, love.” He paused for a moment, then grinned down at her. “Doubt Rupes will be so accommodating.”
Joan winced. She knew Rupert wouldn’t like it, especially after Hallie’s last appearance had upset Anya. Still, Hallie was supposedly Anya’s friend; she might be inclined to help with their predicament. Joan hoped.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Joan lied, more to convince herself than him.
Joan saw Randy bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, but it did nothing to hide the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “‘Course.” He looked over in the direction of the Bronze with a sigh. “So, you sure you’re good to patrol alone tomorrow? I don’t like leavin’ you high and dry, but Cassie had that ‘blood loss related incident’ and I’m the only one who can cover the shift.”
“Yeah, no big!”
And it really wasn’t. She liked when Randy patrolled with her - he was a good fighter and a good ally - but she didn’t think she needed him. She was plenty strong enough to hold her own against the vampires and demons they encountered.
She just wanted him.
Chapter 7: Randy, Interrupted
Notes:
Welcome to this AU's version of Dead Things! Apologies for the departure from the happy fluff... it had to happen sometime.
Chapter Text
Randy woke up the same way he usually did, comfortably wrapped around Joan. Well, he was perfectly comfortable anyway. It helped that he didn’t have any circulation for her to cut off when she laid on his arm. Not that he’d ever complain, she was like his own personal heated blanket. If that meant he also functioned as her pillow so be it.
Joan had just begun to stir, still not fully awake and with no immediate need to be. School was finally out for the summer, and Joan had a couple months free and clear, which suited him just fine. He loved when she didn’t have work; it meant she stayed longer. It wasn’t like he could easily follow her out into the daylight.
It really wasn’t fair. When she left, she took the heat with her, leaving the bed empty and cold. If Randy had his way, they would keep the same hours. Unfortunately, it really wasn’t possible. For some reason, the public school system had yet to see the merits of night classes.
Randy held her closer, resting his chin on her head and closing his eyes. Her hair tickled at his nose as he caught a whiff of her shampoo, still strong from her shower last night. Light seemed to glow out from behind the blackout curtains, just enough to cast the room in a dim grey; not near enough to be of any danger.
The rest of the house was quiet, and Randy suspected Anya and Rupert had already left for the Magic Box and the witches had yet to start up with their experiments. He smiled into Joan’s hair as he ran one of his hands up and down along her back. He was perfectly content to lie there all day. In an effort to make his wish a reality, he reached a hand behind him and clicked the alarm off. He doubted Joan would mind. Her mouth hung open and her breathing still seemed to be in the regulated rhythm of deep sleep.
Sadly, it was not to last. The quiet morning was interrupted by a knock at their door. Randy glanced down at Joan’s sleeping face and carefully extracted himself from the blankets, lifting her arm off his waist with a soft sigh.
He threw a black t-shirt on that matched the sweatpants he wore, making it look like he was wearing a giant onesie. Then he made his way over to the door, hoping that maybe by the time he reached it, the visitor would be gone. His eyes still blinked slowly with sleep as he opened the door and stared down at Dawn. She was already dressed and ready for the day, not a hint of tiredness on her face. What kind of teenager was she? Weren’t they supposed to sleep until noon during the summers?
“Rupert wants you at the Magic Box,” Dawn told him immediately. “He said he’d give me five bucks if I delivered the message.”
Randy blinked a few more times before sighing. There went his morning. “I don’t suppose he told you why?”
Dawn shrugged indifferently. “I didn’t ask.”
He glanced over his shoulder at Joan’s sleeping form longingly before turning back to Dawn in resignation. She was still waiting for his response with crossed arms. “Yeah, alright, I’ll be there.” When Dawn only stood staring at him expectantly, he raised an eyebrow. “Anything else?”
“What? No tip?”
Randy rolled his eyes and closed the door, hearing Dawn mutter something about stinginess on the other side. Anya must have started to rub off on her. He swapped his sweatpants for a pair of jeans and quickly fixed his hair in the bathroom, taming the latest case of unruly bedhead. He was glad his little routine hadn’t woken Joan, she really deserved some sleep. Especially considering she’d be patrolling by herself tonight.
He found her lying in a tangle of blankets when he returned, her hair fanned out in all directions around her face. Whenever he got up first, she would go to work unconsciously bunching up the sheets, untucking everything, and burrowing into a pile of pillows. He was never sure if she was trying to replace him with blankets or if his absence simply freed her to do as she pleased.
He brushed a kiss against her forehead, marveling at the small smile that tugged at her lips. Then he reluctantly tore himself from the room, feeling the warmth rapidly seeping from his body as he closed the door behind him with a soft click.
In the basement, Tara and Willow were already awake and at work, both still dressed in pajamas topped off with their regulation lab goggles. Willow held a cup of coffee in her hands as she yawned and blinked down, watching while Tara combined a few unidentifiable things in a large ceramic bowl. Randy nodded to them before making the executive decision to leave before anything exploded.
***
The Magic Box was quiet when Randy arrived. It was still too early for most of their regulars, especially on a Saturday. Anya was up in the loft that looked down over the shop, flipping through a stack of books that stood almost as tall as her hips. The lofted area was where most of the particularly dangerous grimoires and spellbooks were housed. Anya and Rupert had found that out the hard way and had barely managed not to set the building on fire. For some reason, magic gone wrong often seemed to end in fire around them. That or the spontaneous appearance of rabbits.
Anya didn’t even glance at him as he emerged from the basement, too engrossed in her reading. Randy really hoped she wasn’t looking through those books for ideas for her next Wednesday night hex class. The last thing they needed was to set loose a group of half-cocked, novice witches with the means to avenge any petty grudge with black magic.
Down in the main area, Alex was taking advantage of the lull in business to wipe down the shelves and organize any disturbed products. What had they called it? Fronting? Something about needing all the books and bulk items to be placed as near to the front of the shelf as possible for easy consumer viewing. Meanwhile, Rupert was standing behind the cash register, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, frowning down at a thick ledger. Randy suddenly had a bad feeling he knew the reason he had been summoned.
“Ah, Randy, good, you’re here,” Rupert commented, snapping up the ledger. The small plume of dust that flew up from the pages didn’t speak well of their contents.
Randy warily approached the register, wishing he had listened to his gut when it told him to just stay in bed. “Yeah. I think you owe the Nibblet some change.”
Rupert nodded and dropped the heavy book down in front of Randy on the counter. Randy’s suspicions were confirmed when Rupert said, “Well, I thought you could put your schooling to the test.” Rupert patted the dark cover of the book. “This contains all the particulars of the Magic Box’s accounts and transactions over the past year. I trust you can handle balancing the books, reconciling our accounts, and the like.”
“Haven’t exactly finished the class, Rupes,” Randy argued. “Wouldn’t want you to get arrested for fraud or what all.”
Randy didn’t add that he hadn’t been paying all that much attention to his accounting class either. He didn’t particularly care about homework, tests, or grades, and since Joan was no longer taking driving lessons, he didn’t feel inclined to maintain a B average. Now Rupert wanted to hand over the family business’s financial records to a probable flunky. It felt like the equivalent of asking Willow and Tara to use their magic to teleport them all to Rome: it could only end in disaster.
Rupert waved him off, apparently unconcerned. “I trust you will take appropriate care to ensure everything is completed correctly.”
Randy could only sigh as Rupert pushed the ledger at him. Grabbing the book with a grumbled complaint that Rupert couldn’t have heard, Randy seated himself at the circular wooden table generally reserved for perusing customers. He flipped open the cover and stared at the tiny, hand-written scrawl of numbers that littered the pages. Throwing his head back with a groan, he settled in for a long day.
***
Randy really hated accounting. In fact, he was fairly certain there was nothing in the world he hated more. It had to be some form of psychological torture, and it only got worse as the minutes ticked by. Of course, it didn’t help that half the numbers written down didn’t actually look like numbers. Rupert had terrible handwriting. For someone so stuffy, he didn’t make much of an effort to be neat. And why the hell were they buying newt eyes by the newt? No wonder Rupert wanted to switch to salamander.
Besides the general agony that was accounting, spending the daylight hours at the Magic Box also meant he had no access to his stock of blood, leaving him extra annoyed and hungry. He hadn’t exactly anticipated whatever Rupert wanted him for to take the entire day. A little warning would’ve been nice, but no one had seemed to take that into consideration when tricking him into forced labor. Maybe next time he’d try to bribe Dawn into saying she couldn't find him.
As his eyes scanned over each cramped line of the ledger, his mind drifted further and further away to more pleasant things. He wondered what Joan was doing. She would be awake by now. He wished she’d stop by the shop to distract him. Then again, the faster he completed Rupert’s tedious task, the sooner he would hopefully never have to touch a ledger again. But surely a few minutes couldn’t hurt. They could take a little break, head to the back gym and do some light sparing. Maybe they could even break out the throwing knives. His wandering thoughts were interrupted when Rupert made a show of loudly clearing his throat.
Throughout the day business picked up and Randy found it more and more difficult to concentrate. The ding of the cash register, the chatter of patrons and employees alike, the bell above the door, Anya shuffling books around above him, Alex’s cleaning that occasionally turned into humming. Randy began to tap his foot, hoping to divert some of his restlessness.
It didn’t help.
Every time the bell above the door let out its familiar chime, Randy’s head would snap up, hoping that this time it would be Joan who would pass over the threshold. Each time, he was disappointed. Not that he had asked her to come or even really expected it. It was mostly wishful thinking.
Rupert checked in on his progress whenever there was a lull in the stream of customers. He would stand over Randy’s shoulder and check the page and progress like the micromanager he was. Randy had to fight the urge not to glare. Instead, he would stop whatever he was doing, look at his father as cordially as possible and ask if he needed anything. Rupert would state that he did not and go back to his duties as proprietor, all the while playing innocent.
Randy watched impatiently as the clock ticked down towards both closing time for the Magic Box and opening time for the Bronze. And just as he was finally getting close to finishing up the books. Randy pushed himself through the last bit of tedium - so much so that even his eyes felt strained - and shut the ledger cover with a distinct snap. Rupert’s attention was drawn by the noise and a moment later he was standing beside Randy getting the ledger shoved into his hands.
“It’s all yours,” Randy told him, more than ready to leave the Magic Box now that it was dark. He hoped finishing up this little test meant he’d get a reprieve from accounting duties for the foreseeable future.
Rupert nodded, flipping the book open and thumbing through a few of the pages. “Very good. Thank you, Randy, I’m sure last year’s books provided adequate practice. Tomorrow, you can finish up with this year’s.”
Randy blinked at him, hating when comprehension dawned. His jaw clenched tightly, expression morphing to glower at his father. Manipulative bastard…
Rupert did not appear guilty in the least, only increasing Randy’s irritation. “I’m sure it will also help with your accounting class. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your distinct lack of effort lately.” Rupert fixed him with a pointed stare, as if this explained the duplicity perfectly.
Randy did not agree. “I don’t need this,” he growled, shouldering past Rupert as he made for the door. “I’ve gotta go to work. You know, the place they actually pay me. And, thanks to you, I’ll have to get dinner to-go.”
He didn’t wait for Rupert to reply. He was probably going to be late as it stood.
***
Joan was getting worried. Not that worried, but mildly worried; an appropriate amount of worry. Randy was very rarely late to work, much as she might joke about it, so what had kept him tonight? They were almost never apart during the night hours, and he could have run into all sorts of bad characters on his way from the Magic Box to the Bronze. She hoped he hadn’t decided to sweep through the cemeteries alone on his way over. What if that weird shark guy had decided they weren’t so even after all?
Joan had meant to stop by the Magic Box earlier in the day to say hi to him, Rupert, Anya, and Alex, but instead she had gotten distracted and spent the day with Dawn, Willow, and Tara. After Dawn and Joan helped the witches with a charm that mixed up all your tastes and functioning as their mystical guinea pigs, they had all gone out for ice cream and coffee. Unfortunately, Joan thought the ice cream tasted like ham and Dawn thought she was eating some really cold cheese. Joan wished they could’ve swapped taste buds. Why’d Dawn get the cheese flavor? Tara and Willow had assured them that it would wear off in a few hours, a day max.
Joan really hoped so. Then again, broccoli tasted like chocolate now so it wasn’t all downside.
Dawn had stayed in with Willow and Tara when Joan had left early to start patrol. Apparently, they were going to keep testing Dawn’s taste buds while they still could. Dawn had requested to be compensated for her contribution to the business. She was really entrepreneurial when she wanted mall money.
Joan had stopped by the Bronze for the dual purpose of hopefully catching Randy at the start of his shift and to do a quick sweep of the place for any vampires. So far, she had yet to see a single vampire, Randy included.
The Bronze was busy, as was typical for a Saturday night, and she felt out of place lurking on the edges of the crowd and glancing around like she had been stood up for a date. In a way, she sort of had. In an unofficial capacity… where the other party didn’t know they had one.
Eventually, she made her way towards the bar to catch one of the bartenders on duty. The two working behind the bar were clearly overwhelmed with requests and it took her a few minutes to even get one’s attention. A harried girl that Joan recognized but couldn’t name approached her and leaned heavily against the counter.
“What can I get ya?” she shouted over the noise.
“Have you seen Randy?” Joan asked, leaning forward to be better heard.
The girl shook her head, frowning. “No, he’s late. Really hope he’s alright, after what happened with Cassie. Plus,” she gestured to the crowd practically surging up against the bar, “we’re totally swamped here.”
Joan nodded. “Yeah, me too.”
The bartender tipped her head in solidarity before quickly moving on to a clamoring frat boy, wielding soda hoses like a gunslinger as she continued to fill orders.
After leaving the bar, Joan decided to abandon the Bronze altogether. She knew one place Randy wasn’t, and that was here. Besides, she really did need to get a move on with patrol. Maybe she’d run into him along the way. He’d probably just gotten caught up with the Magic Box or something. Maybe they’d had another newt eye incident. She shivered at that gross thought. He’d need to take a long shower before coming to bed if that were the case. Joan and newt eyes were decidedly unmixy things.
Joan said goodbye to Zack as she left, turning the corner towards the alley where vamps tended to think they could enjoy an uninterrupted meal. Nothing strange was obviously evident, but Joan was immediately put on edge. A low growl began emanating from behind an industrial-sized, metal dumpster sitting halfway down the alley just as she paused her stride. A moment later, a can rattled across the width of the alleyway and slammed into a pile of splintering pallets while the dumpster shook with some unseen impact.
Joan’s fingers found the stake in her oversized pocket and she instinctively shifted to hold the weapon out in front of her in a defensive stance. It was starting to look like the Bronze wouldn’t be a total bust. Dark alley, creepy noises, it all pointed to something in need of a good stake. And hey, would you look at that, she had one handy!
Before she could move any closer, something large swung out from behind the dumpster in a tilting arc and dropped onto the cracked asphalt of the alley floor. Joan quickly realized that the something was actually a someone .
There had been no attempt by the now motionless girl to catch herself as she fell and her body had bounced limply on impact. Joan’s immediate response was to help her, until she spotted the wide, unseeing eyes. The girl was a brunette, her hair now lying in a black stain that looked like motor oil. Her chest was unnaturally still. Worst of all, there was a gaping, ragged tear in her neck covered in crimson blood and exposing crushed cartilage. The combination spelled one thing: vampire.
She had been too late. This part of her superhero job never got any easier. Joan’s face hardened as she prepared to face the girl’s killer.
Only, in the next instant, he stepped out from behind the dumpster.
Randy wasn’t looking at her. He was focused on lighting a cigarette with a silver zippo lighter. His face was still that of a demon, the one he wore so rarely, his mouth still covered in a smear of blood. Joan watched in frozen shock as the flame illuminated the grisly sight, making his gaunt face seem even more sinister.
He smiled down at the corpse, giving it a small nudge with his boot. Joan barely recognized the look on his face. She barely recognized him at all. He was wearing an ankle-length, black leather coat she had never seen before, and a silver chain hung around his neck. She watched as he casually flicked some ash over the body before turning away from her and sauntering off down the alley without a hint of concern.
Joan stared after him until he disappeared completely, too numb to feel anything about what she had just witnessed. Instead, she quickly moved to the girl, checking her pulse - just to be certain. She was dead… cold.
The girl couldn’t be any older than she was herself, but Joan didn’t recognize her. She could’ve been anyone.
Hastily stumbling away from the body, Joan fell backwards into the opposite wall of stained and fading brick, hands scraping painfully into the asphalt. The girl’s brown eyes stared back at her accusingly. A bruise marred her pale cheek and a streak of dried blood trailed down her forehead from a deep gash. Had Randy really done that?
Joan looked back in the direction he had just disappeared and immediately threw up. Or tried to. After not eating anything since the ice cream debacle, Joan’s stomach was empty and she uselessly dry heaved until she finally felt the urge to gag recede.
She staggered to her feet, throat burning and palms stinging. There were rocks embedded in her skin from when her weight had slammed down fully on her hands. Not that her minor pains were anything compared to what she had just witnessed. The walk back to the doors of the Bronze was a blur. She moved numbly toward the light of the neon sign like a moth, unable to actually make out any of the letters.
Zack found her.
“Call the police,” she ordered softly. “There’s a body.”
***
Pain was something Randy was used to. Cracked ribs, deep cuts, bruised… well, everything .
This wasn’t like that. He felt hungover without the headache. Groggy without any sense of being well-rested. He felt… disoriented. There had to be a better word for it, but he’d be damned if he knew it.
Glancing around, he realized he hadn’t woken up in bed next to Joan. He was cold all the way to his core, his skin the same temperature as the hard stone beneath him. The only windows were narrow slits with textured glass that barely allowed any light to penetrate, if there was even any outside to speak of. Everything smelled like freshly dug earth and stale air, with the barest hint of old cigarette smoke still lingering like a stain that just wouldn’t come out. If the small concrete interior stinking of grave dirt wasn’t enough of a giveaway, the urns and memorial plaques drove the point home. He was in a dark crypt, lying on top of a stone coffin.
Randy’s brow furrowed for a moment as he took in the unexpected change in scenery before he jumped to his feet and spun around. The place was lived in. At least, someone had once lived there. A green recliner sat in one corner covered in a coating of dust, as was the beat-up TV that sat across from it. His eyes were drawn to a fridge in another corner that still sounded to be functioning and he pulled open the door, unable to imagine what one might need to refrigerate in a crypt. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised to find the blood.
It was all pig’s blood, and it had all clearly gone bad. His nose wrinkled up as he opened one of the plastic containers and sniffed the congealed liquid.
It seemed a vampire had lived here.
A vampire who drank pig’s blood and clearly hadn’t been home in a good long while.
Randy tensed up, a frown settling on his face. He knew someone who fit that bill.
He turned around the crypt slowly, looking for any sign that he might once have lived there. Only he had no idea what he should be looking for. The place was bare anyway. Had possibly even been pilfered. Nothing worth mentioning remained, at any rate.
Had he really lived here?
For some reason it seemed hard to believe. He was having a hard time imagining any life where he wasn’t living with his fellow amnesiacs. And, as much of a tosser as his father could be, he couldn’t believe he’d have thrown him out on the street to live in a bleedin’ cemetery. What would Joan have thought of this place? Randy was sure he didn’t want to know. In fact, he was struck with the intense desire to leave as soon as possible.
He all but ran to the door and threw it open, only to jump back with a shout as the sunlight hit his skin. He jerked his smoldering hand back and slammed the iron door shut. It looked like escape would have to wait.
Randy clenched his eyelids tightly closed before marching back into the room, angrily lashing his foot out at the first thing that crossed his path. In this case, it was the hard stone lid of a coffin resting on the floor, and it probably would have broken all his toes if he weren’t wearing a pair of steel toe boots. The lid scraped across the concrete floor, and Randy was ready to turn his fury on the recliner when he noticed the edge of a black hole beneath the disturbed stone.
Frowning, he shoved the heavy lid aside, revealing a jagged opening the size of a manhole cover in the floor. It was pitch black in the cavern when he stuck his head inside, but he could hear dripping water. The sound seemed to echo, indicating that a decent sized chamber must lay beneath. Then he spotted the ladder. Convenient .
Randy slowly climbed down the wooden ladder until his boots touched solid ground once more. It was too dark to see anything in the underground space without so much as refracted moonlight for his eyes to reflect, so he took out his lighter and snapped it open. The tiny flame revealed little and with vague detail, but Randy could make out the outline of a large bed. Clearly, this was the main living quarters.
He didn’t linger.
Randy stumbled around in the dark, drawn to the sound of steady dripping. As he tripped on a ledge, there was a distinct shift in the air and the ground changed from carpeted to flat concrete to the curved walls distinctive to the sewers and tunnels beneath Sunnydale. He suddenly realized that the crypt had a backdoor.
He had never felt more relieved.
***
After giving her statement to the police, Joan had completely forgone the rest of patrol, instead returning to the house as quickly as she could.
She was relieved to find Dawn, Tara, and Willow sitting around the dining table with bowls of various snack foods. Dawn was looking a little green, but otherwise unharmed as Willow tried to convince her to try a Skittle.
“I can’t,” Dawn groaned. “I feel like I’m gonna barf.”
“Oh come on, Dawnie,” Willow implored, waving the Skittle around in front of her face. “It’s just one little Skittle. And it’s even purple!”
Joan closed and locked the door, tossing her jacket on one of the coat hooks that lined the wall beside it. One of Randy’s jackets hung next to hers. It looked so different from the one she’d seen him wear earlier.
Tara seemed more inclined to take pity on Dawn. “Maybe we should call it a day on the tests,” she suggested to Willow. “We can always ask Alex to test it tomorrow.”
Willow brightened at the prospect. “Oh! He’d love to test a charm where he’d be plied with endless snacks!”
“Hey, have you guys seen Randy?” Joan asked, approaching the table and interrupting their discussion.
Tara’s brows knitted together, and Joan winced internally at her inability to mask her own concern. “No. Wasn’t he supposed to be working tonight?” Tara asked.
Joan nodded and chuckled as if she’d only forgotten. “Oh, right.”
Before they had a chance to question why she was back so early, Joan disappeared down the stairs to the basement and shut herself in her room. No, not her room, their room. The room she shared with a murderer.
She stood still with her back against the door for a moment, eyes unfocused. Then her hands snapped to the back of her neck and she fumbled hurriedly with the clasp of the chain until she got the locket off. She stared at the engraved metal, refusing to open it and fighting the urge to smash it beneath her heel. Instead, she slammed her closed fist down on the dresser and released the locket unharmed to rest on the wood.
Unwilling to stay in the room any longer, Joan made her way back upstairs, slower this time, each step feeling like she had lead strapped to her feet.
“Is Rupert back yet?” Joan asked the group at the table when she emerged.
Willow nodded. “He’s in his office.”
Joan ignored their frowns of concern as she turned away.
She walked to Rupert’s office in a daze. What was she going to tell him? That his son was a killer? Would she even be able to get the words out of her mouth?
She hadn’t when the police had asked.
“Miss, did you see who did this?”
“I- No… I didn’t see anyone. There was just- there was just a body. And her neck was- I’m sorry.”
The officer nodded sympathetically. “It’s alright, miss.”
Joan knocked on the study door and Rupert bade her to enter. She hesitantly opened the door and moved to stand awkwardly in front of the desk while Rupert straightened his glasses, looking up from the thick book he was reading.
No, it was a ledger. Probably for the Magic Box.
“Yes, Joan?” he asked with a frown, clearly sensing something wasn’t quite right with her unusually subdued manner. She really needed to work on her poker face. “Is something wrong?”
Joan nodded, her lips pressed so tightly together that they appeared almost white. She looked away from him, unwilling to look him in the eye when she broke his heart. He didn’t press her to continue. He didn’t say anything; instead waiting for her to speak again, regardless of what level of patience he might currently possess. However, she couldn’t be certain if it was patience that held his tongue or fear.
“I saw Randy kill a woman tonight,” Joan whispered. There was no other way to say it, no way to make it sound like less of a punch to the gut. At least he was sitting down. Everyone always said to have them sit down before delivering distressing news. Joan didn’t know why, it wasn’t like it made anything less upsetting.
The silence hung thick between them. Rupert wasn’t saying anything, and Joan had no way to gauge his reaction while she was examining the carpet. It had small, dark brown flecks in it. She’d never noticed that before. After another long beat, she slowly raised her eyes to his pale face. He seemed stunned into silence, his expression otherwise unreadable. She had never seen that look on his face. Not when they’d crashed his car, or left the house unlocked for burglars, or when Willow and Tara had accidentally gotten red stains all over the walls downstairs. She had seen Rupert in all kinds of anger, but she had never seen this.
“What?” he managed to get out, his voice already going hoarse. “Are- You’re certain?”
“I saw him, Rupert. I saw the blood on his mouth. He just walked away from the body, like she was nothing!” And Joan couldn’t get her face out of her head. Everywhere she looked, the girl was there. She watched the body drop over and over again in her mind like some kind of sick reel. Her skull had cracked so loudly against the asphalt Joan couldn’t believe there hadn’t been a pool of blood to cover up the motor oil. Then Randy was stepping out, lighting up a cigarette without the barest hint of remorse on his face, licking the blood from his lips and smirking down at the corpse.
Rupert’s neutral facade cracked and he hastily removed his glasses, wiping roughly at his eyes. “But he has a soul. How- He can’t!”
“Rupert-”
“Joan, he’s my son!” Rupert shot to his feet, knocking his chair down behind him, and slammed a hand down onto the desk. If she were anyone else, she might have been frightened.
“I know!” Joan retorted, forgetting for a moment about the others only being a hallway away. “You think I wanted this? I-” Her voice cracked and she immediately stopped talking, jaw snapping shut, as she struggled for control. “I know.”
***
Randy had gotten turned around in the new section of tunnels he now found himself in a few times. He really only used the tunnels to get from the house to the Magic Box or the house to Dawn’s school or sometimes even from the Magic Box to the school. The other tunnels were always less familiar, and these ones weren’t familiar at all.
It got to the point where he was willing to wait until sunset to simply get back above ground and get his bearings. He could make his way back to the house if he could just spot a familiar landmark. Sometimes he really hated being a vampire. The whole sun allergy thing was bloody inconvenient.
Joan was probably worried about him. Hell, they were all probably worried about him. And he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about him too. He still had no idea how he had ended up passed out in that crypt or what had happened to his night. The memory loss routine was getting old.
And this time, he was alone.
He wondered if perhaps both incidents had the same culprit. It was a hell of a coincidence. He hoped Joan and the others hadn’t been affected as well.
Shit, he’d missed his shift at the Bronze. They better not fire him. He didn’t want to be stuck as Rupert’s accountant for the rest of his life. Somehow he doubted “blacked out and woke up in a strange crypt” qualified as an appropriate reason to skip out on work.
***
Rupert was talking, but Joan was barely paying attention.
Rupert had taken it upon himself to inform the others of the disturbing act Joan had witnessed earlier that night. There was shock, disbelief, horror, and even tears. No one wanted to believe it, but the source was irrefutable. Joan wished it had been someone else, so she could have called them a liar and never been the wiser. But that would be the same as allowing a killer to walk free.
Dawn was inconsolable. When they had started discussing performing a disinvite spell for Randy, she had run up the stairs and locked herself in her room. Joan was distantly surprised her door hadn’t fallen off its hinges with how loudly it slammed.
Willow was openly crying, tears streaming down her face as Tara held her tightly. There were tears glistening in Tara’s own eyes as she tried her best to offer comfort to Willow. Anya had been uncharacteristically silent throughout the whole of Rupert’s explanation, sitting rigidly on her stool, eyes downcast. Only Alex wasn’t present. He was at home in his apartment, completely unaware that their world had just shattered.
At least someone would get a good night’s sleep.
Rupert’s voice had remained low the entire time, and Joan had added in details sparingly. No one else needed to know how Randy had used the girl’s body like an ashtray or how her head looked like it had nearly been severed from the rest of her.
“Who was she?” Willow asked quietly when the explanation of events was through.
“I don’t know,” Joan replied.
Randy had killed her, and they didn’t even know her name.
***
While Willow, Tara, and Anya got to work on a disinvite spell, Joan dragged herself up the stairs to check on Dawn. Dawn’s room stood right at the top of the stairway, separated from Willow and Tara’s by a shared bathroom. Joan turned and rapped softly on her sister’s door.
When there was no answer, Joan called out, “Dawn?” Her voice sounded like it was coming from someone else.
“Go away!”
Joan sighed, rubbing her fingers against her temples. She didn’t want to argue with Dawn. Not right now. She wasn’t even sure if she could. Deciding it might be best to let her cool off and spend some time alone, Joan retreated back down the stairs.
“It’s done,” Anya said grimly when Joan returned to the kitchen.
Joan only nodded once before the night’s events seemed to hit her and she rushed down the stairs, copying Dawn and locking herself away in her room.
Joan threw herself down on the bed and burrowed beneath the covers, hoping to hide from reality. But the sheets smelled like him. Some of his clothes were still strewn about. The blackout curtains hung as a stark reminder that she had been protecting a killer. She had been dating one.
Joan finally let herself cry, being careful not to make a sound.
***
The next day, everyone was too tired and puffy-eyed to comment on anyone else’s tiredness or puffy-eyes. Anya had called Alex to inform him about the situation and he had been over in less than fifteen minutes. No one went to work. Rupert and Anya had decided it would be best not to open the Magic Box given the state of everything.
Randy had never come home. At least, no one had noticed if he had tried.
Joan felt immense guilt at the fact she was still worried about him in spite of everything. What if he had been hurt or killed? No matter what he had done, she didn’t know if she could stomach him as dust.
She still wasn’t sure what they planned to do once they did find him.
Rupert slapped a newspaper down on the dining table in front of her, startling her from her thoughts. She moved her coffee mug aside with deliberate slowness and picked up the paper. Rupert walked away without saying a word.
Rupert had the newspaper opened to the fourth page, and Joan’s eyes were instantly drawn to the small, rectangular picture of a familiar, smiling brunette printed in pixelated black and white. Katrina Silber. It was hard to believe that the lively woman in the picture was the same one with the lifeless, glassy eyes Joan had seen last night. The paper said she was a bright young girl who had attended the tech college in Dutton. She had graduated just this spring with a degree in mechanical engineering, and she left behind two parents and a younger brother.
Apparently, the police were still investigating her death, and no further information would be released at this time. But Joan didn’t need more details. She wished she knew less.
There would be a memorial for Katrina tomorrow in Weatherly Park.
Joan tossed the paper aside, drawing stares from Willow, Tara, and Alex. For a moment, it seemed no one planned to question her apparent hatred for the Sunnydale Press, then Alex picked it up and scanned the page she had just read.
Alex shook his head, jaw tensed as he set the paper back on the table. He looked at Joan like he was about to question her certainty about what she had witnessed, just like everyone else. Then he glanced back down at the paper and closed his mouth.
Joan was grateful for the small reprieve. She was sick of the borderline accusations from the other members of the house. As if she would actually make up a scenario where her boyfriend killed a woman. She didn’t want to believe it anymore than they did. In fact, her brain had concocted a myriad of increasingly ridiculous scenarios that might explain the behavior or exonerate Randy, and she had wanted so badly to believe them.
But even she could admit that none made any sense.
The remainder of the day was spent discussing how to track down Randy. They decided a locator spell would likely be their best bet, especially if he was deliberately hiding from them. Anya and Rupert had stopped by the Magic Box to gather a few supplies while Willow and Tara worked to prep their lab for the spell. Dawn still hadn’t come down from her room and Alex volunteered to try to coax her out.
He returned a short while later stating Dawn only wanted Hex for company and that she said she was fine.
Joan didn’t believe it for a second, but didn’t say anything.
When Rupert and Anya returned, they immediately got to work on the spell. Unfortunately, none of them were really professionals in magic, despite owning two different magical businesses. On the first attempt, nothing at all happened, and on the second, the map had burned completely to cinders. After that, Rupert and Anya had been forced to return to the Magic Box to replenish their materials.
“I’m sorry,” Willow fretted. “I’ll get it the next time, swear!”
Tara patted her back reassuringly. “We’ll get it.”
Willow slumped down in one of the stools that sat near the black, epoxy-resin counter and put her head in her hands. “I just- I can’t focus like this!”
“It’s okay, Willow,” Tara said. “You don’t have to do it alone.”
“It’s not okay!” Willow’s eyes stared up at Tara, wide and scared. “What if he kills someone else while we’re-” She stopped abruptly and shoved her head back down.
Tara tensed, her hand frozen on Willow’s back. Joan had gone completely rigid. She hadn’t even considered the possibility that Randy might have already…
She excused herself to go make more coffee and didn’t return to the basement until Rupert and Anya got back from the Magic Box. When they returned, the light was rapidly retreating. Sunset. Joan wondered if Randy would try to return to the house or if she’d run into him on patrol… as an adversary.
***
The sun had finally gone down far enough for Randy to emerge from the blasted tunnels beneath Sunnydale. He crawled out from a manhole on Prescott across from the abandoned Sunnydale Arms. Unfortunately, that was a good few miles from the house and he had a bit of a walk ahead of him. Nevertheless, his extremely strange day was almost at an end.
Randy walked through the dim streets of Sunnydale, watching as the streetlights came on. He wasn’t exactly in a hurry, but he didn’t make any stops or slow his stride from a brisk clip. He was a bit worried about the others and needed to tell them all about his missing hours… at least what little he knew about them.
A half hour later, Randy was standing in front of the door to the house. It was locked.
He rapped on the heavy wood impatiently. No one answered for a good couple minutes, despite the fact he could hear voices inside. He knocked again.
This time the door slowly opened and he was met with Joan’s drawn face. He frowned, looking over her shoulder at Anya and Rupert who were sporting equally grim expressions.
When he tried to step forward into the house, he found he was stopped dead in his tracks by a barrier he couldn’t see.
He blinked down at Joan in a mixture of shock and hurt. No one spoke or attempted to explain. Joan never stepped aside and Rupert never invited him in.
When he noticed that Joan wasn’t wearing the locket, he felt his stomach drop.
“What is this?” he asked quietly.
Chapter 8: Ramifications
Notes:
Previous Chapter Recap:
Joan witnessed Katrina’s murder at the hands of Randy. Joan and the Scoobies are struggling to wrap their minds around what they've learned. After leaving the Magic Box to head to the Bronze, Randy woke up the next morning in a strange crypt he didn’t recognize with no memories of the night and made his way back to the house. On arrival, he finds that he can no longer enter the house as his invitation has been revoked.
Chapter Text
“What is this?” Randy asked quietly.
Randy didn’t know exactly what he hadn’t been able to walk into, but from the look on Joan’s face it obviously wasn’t anything good. If the fact that he hadn’t been able to cross the threshold into his own home wasn’t telling enough, that look cemented it. Her mouth was set in a thin line and she looked paler than he’d ever seen her, almost sickly; her forehead was creased slightly at its center as if she were trying very hard to concentrate on something she either didn’t understand or didn’t want to. Moreover, she wasn’t surprised he couldn’t enter the house, rather she seemed to have expected it.
And she wasn’t saying anything.
His brain was screaming out red flags and caution warnings, but he did little more than stare at Joan in confusion, her non-reaction a reaction in and of itself. Rupert and Anya had faded into the background, which might explain why he flinched at the next words.
“Step aside, Joan.”
Randy’s eyes were instantly drawn to Rupert. The calm and assertiveness of his father’s voice as he ordered Joan to move away from the door made Randy feel as cold as he had been upon waking, chilled to the bone atop a stone sarcophagus. Rupert was holding a crossbow and had it pointed directly at Randy, his face a blank mask. Fitting, how the face matched the voice. The indifference bordered on cruel.
It was unbelievable enough that Rupert had a weapon trained on him, but then Joan stepped aside to give him a clear shot.
She wouldn’t look at him. She kept her eyes anywhere else, as if she could only bear to see him in her periphery, and even that might be too much. He felt frozen in place - too stunned to move - his unnecessary breathing halted, every muscle in his body tensed like a bowstring.
Anya moved then, followed by a clink of metal. When Randy managed to tear his eyes from Joan, he noticed Anya was holding up a pair of handcuffs.
“Put these on,” Anya said without inflection, tossing the cuffs to him.
He caught them reflexively, before finally coming back to himself.
“What the hell is this?” Randy growled, dangling the cuffs from one finger as he stared at his father and Anya accusingly. Despite Joan’s apparent acquiescence to the treatment, he refused to think she was in favor of it and spared her his glare.
“Put the cuffs on and we’ll talk,” Rupert replied. The crossbow never wavered, still aimed unerringly at his heart.
Randy bit back a snarl as he snapped a cuff on first one wrist and then the other. He held up his hands, palms forward, in a gesture that managed to look more antagonistic than placating. “Happy?”
“Come in, Randy,” Joan said, her voice low.
He hesitated for a moment before stepping across the threshold. The relief at finding he was no longer excommunicated from his home was short-lived. The second he stepped into the house, Joan seized his arms in a crushing grip and swung him around into Rupert’s desk chair that had been waiting just behind the door.
Stunned, he only gaped as she worked efficiently to tie him to the chair with a cord of rope that sat on the floor next to them.
“Is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on?” Randy shouted almost desperately, panic rising by the second.
“Precaution,” Rupert told him.
Evidently, the rope, handcuffs, and crossbow weren’t enough, because the next minute Joan was fastening a set of shackles around his ankles.
“Precaution for what?” Randy spat. “If this has anything to do with accounting, Rupert, you’ll be seein’ stars for a week!”
The hell of it was, Randy would be nothing but relieved to hear his imprisonment was due to something as mundane as accounting. But it wouldn’t explain Joan’s grave expression. And Randy would like to think that a slip-up in the books wouldn’t bring out the crossbow-wielding side of Rupert.
Despite the rough treatment, Randy couldn’t help but notice the house was unusually quiet. Dawn and the witches were nowhere to be seen. He wondered if they had been sent away or if their absence was merely a coincidence. He had a sinking feeling their absence had been planned.
They wouldn’t be coming to his aid. They’d never be allowed the chance. And that was assuming they’d want one.
“Alright, now that I’m trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, mind tellin’ me what this is all about?” Randy asked for what felt like the hundredth time. Surely one of these times, they’d bother answering.
***
Seeing Randy in the doorway had hit Joan like a freight train.
She wasn’t sure what surprised her more, that he’d return at all or that he’d look so incredibly hurt by his barred invitation. He had stared at her with those wide, searching eyes of his, pleading for some kind of explanation. It scared her how he could look that way, even after what he’d done.
She had tied him up as securely as she could, taking care to avoid looking at his face. After she finished securing the shackles, she had stepped back to join Anya and Rupert. He hadn’t fought her or attempted to hinder her efforts at restraining him. He had only continued to beg for some kind of explanation, feigning ignorance.
It was such a convincing act. God, no wonder they’d never suspected.
“I saw you kill that girl,” Joan told him. She pictured Katrina’s face and steeled herself against her own emotions. “In the alley outside the Bronze last night. Her name was Katrina Sibler. She wasn’t the first, was she? How many, Randy?”
Randy blinked at her. Her face was serious but her words were ridiculous. For some reason, Anya and Rupert didn’t seem amused by the so obviously false accusation. They were all staring at him, waiting for his answer. They actually expected him to answer that.
It was bloody comical.
Then Randy started laughing. He really couldn’t help himself. It was so ridiculous, it was the only reaction that seemed suitable. That was, until the laughter began to sound more like hysterics than genuine amusement, breaking down into harsh cackles that grated on his own throat.
“You’re not serious?” he barked after regaining some of his composure. None of them had tried to stop his laughter, instead they had waited him out silently. Somehow their silence had a sobering effect that was perhaps both fortuitous and highly disturbing. When no one responded, he asked again, “You’re not serious?! I haven’t killed anyone! Point of fact, I woke up in a soddin’ crypt this morning with-” He stopped his tirade abruptly.
He’d woken up this morning with no idea what had happened the night before.
Randy went very still as he contemplated the coincidence. He racked his brain for the haze of a memory. He had left the Magic Box, heading off to his shift at the Bronze. Nothing had been amiss to his knowledge. He had been annoyed, he remembered that much. Rupert had kept him locked up all day on a fool’s errand with nothing to eat.
Sure, he’d been hungry, but hungry enough to- to black out and kill a girl? He wouldn’t have. Would he?
“I think you should start from the beginning,” Rupert said coolly.
It should have made Randy feel better to know they were willing to hear his side of things. Somehow, the loaded crossbow, triple restraints, and his own lack of memory prevented him from feeling any relief at the concession.
“I left the Magic Box,” Randy began, trying his best to maintain calm even though all he wanted to do was scream. “I was heading to my shift at the Bronze. Was gonna swing by the house to grab somethin’ to eat, but I- I don’t think I ever made it there. Next thing I knew, it was mornin’ and I was in some crypt. I wandered the sewers most of the day til sunset, then I came here.” He paused and looked up at his inquisitors. “And that’s all I remember. But I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Say your story is true,” Rupert replied. “How would you know?”
“What?”
“You say you don’t remember the night. How would you know if you killed someone?”
“I wouldn’t kill anyone, Rupes, you know that,” Randy snapped back.
“Has this happened before?” Anya interrupted.
Randy blinked owlishly at her. “Before?”
“Besides the obvious amnesia incident we all share, have you had any other periods of missing time?” Anya repeated.
“No, can’t say I have. Think Joan can account for my whereabouts for most nights.”
Joan pursed her lips, but nodded. If Randy had been going on secret killing sprees, she had to admit that she had no idea when he’d be doing them. They were rarely apart during the night hours - the only hours Randy could safely step outside for. And, if he wasn’t with her, he was almost always with one or more of the other members of the house or Alex. However, she supposed it really didn’t take long for a vampire to kill someone, and he could have squeezed it into his schedule if he really had a mind to. That thought sent a shiver down her spine.
“Randy, we want to believe you,” Joan told him quietly, “but I saw you kill that girl. And whether you remember it or not, it still happened. You drained her and left her body lying in an alley behind a dumpster.”
“I wouldn’t.” He felt like a broken record, and he was no longer sure whether he was trying to convince them or himself. Maybe both.
“But you did!” Joan shouted, almost shaking with anger.
Randy flinched back as if she’d slapped him, and even Anya and Rupert looked startled by the vehemence of the accusation.
“So,” Randy finally said after a tense silence, “what now?” He turned to Joan. “You gonna stake me, Joan?” Then he raised an eyebrow at Rupert. “Or is ole Rupes here gonna put a bolt through my heart?”
Rupert’s hardened facade faltered ever so slightly at the question, but it was back in place quickly enough that Randy was sure it didn’t matter. Joan was back to not looking at him, which angered him for some reason. If she was going to kill him, she could at least look at him. He deserved that much.
“We’re not going to kill you,” Rupert said. “We need to- Some time. Some time to figure this out. But, you understand, we can’t allow you to leave.”
Randy clenched his eyes shut and smiled almost painfully. “I see. House arrest, is it?” He glared at Rupert’s infuriatingly unreadable face and temporarily lost all sense of self-preservation. “You willin’ to take that chance? I’m obviously a very bad man. What if I get loose?”
He knew he really shouldn’t be pushing them right now, but he couldn’t help but lash out. Both his family and his girlfriend thought that he would… that he could do that to them.
“Who knows?” Randy continued harshly. “I might kill the witches just for fun. Or maybe I’d think the Nibblet was lookin’ like a tasty snack.”
He shouldn’t have been surprised when Joan slapped him.
He instantly snapped his mouth shut as he took in her shocked glare, one part horror, one part fury. Whether she was more surprised by what he had said or that she had slapped him, he couldn’t tell.
He didn’t protest when Joan gagged him with one of their dish towels. He didn’t struggle when she and Rupert carried him - chair and all - into Rupert’s office, turned off the lights, and locked the door behind them. He sat perfectly still and tried very hard not to think of anything at all.
***
“What is your plan?” Anya asked Rupert when he and Joan returned from securing Randy.
Rupert sighed as he moved over to the cupboards to pull out a bottle of Scotch. “I don’t know.”
Joan sat down at the counter wordlessly and watched Rupert fix himself a glass of the mind-numbing liquid. Rupert caught her staring and slid the glass over to her, before turning and preparing two more, one for himself and one for Anya. Rupert had never let her drink his good Scotch before. She lifted the tumbler to her lips, took a large gulp of the foul-tasting drink - unable to believe that this was what constituted good liquor - and winced.
Anya accepted her drink but continued to stare intently at Rupert as if expecting a better, or at least longer, answer to her question.
“If what Randy said was true,” Rupert said, “then we should attempt to discern the cause of his amnesia.”
“You think he’s lying,” Anya stated.
Rupert removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s one hell of a coincidence.”
No one had anything to say to that.
“In any case,” Rupert continued, “we should consider all possible… avenues before making a- a final decision.”
Joan tossed back the rest of her drink, making a face as she fought back the urge to gag. Then she pushed away from the counter with a mumbled, “I’m going to bed,” before stalking off towards the basement, Rupert and Anya’s eyes at her back.
“Joan, we should really-”
But she was gone before Rupert could finish his sentence.
***
Joan had thought the basement would be empty - having agreed that everyone besides Rupert, Anya, and Joan should remain in their rooms should Randy arrive - but Tara was sitting over at the lab counter, a few books scattered around in front of her.
“Joan.” Tara glanced up, looking surprisingly startled to spot her in the very unsurprising process of heading to her room. “How- how did it go?”
Before Joan could answer, Hex jumped up onto the counter Tara was sitting at and began stalking and then pawing at the crystals Tara had laid out in front of her books. Tara sighed patiently as she lifted the kitten for what was likely not the first time and set her back on the floor. The little beast stared at her for a moment, flicking her tail a few times to express her displeasure, and strutted away. Joan could hear her move on to attacking some leftover packaging, but Tara didn’t comment on the potential for destruction.
“She seems pretty into the charms,” Joan remarked blandly.
Tara flashed her a brief smile. “Yeah. We can’t keep her off the counter most days. Usually have to shut the basement door.”
Tara watched her, as if waiting for something, and Joan realized she hadn’t answered her question. “Randy is… contained,” Joan settled on.
“Oh. Good. That’s… good. Did he say anything?”
“He, uh, says he doesn’t remember. But we’re still trying to-”
Well, she wasn’t sure exactly what they were trying to do. Were they trying to ascertain what happened to Katrina - and possibly Randy - that night? Or were they simply trying to decide what should be done with Randy now? If he were a man, they should have turned him over to the authorities. However, Randy was a vampire. And vampires didn’t go to prison; they were exterminated.
“- to figure everything out,” Joan finished lamely.
Tara nodded as if everything Joan said had made perfect sense, but she frowned. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Joan hesitated, but shook her head. “No.” She paused again. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just-”
When she didn’t elaborate, Tara prodded, “It’s what?”
Joan met her concerned gaze and could barely stand to look at it. “What if none of it was real?” she whispered, her voice cracking at the end.
Tara stood then, moving quickly to encase Joan in her arms and saying nothing. Thank god she said nothing.
***
Randy was alone, in the dark, tied and shackled to an office chair.
The worst part was, he had no idea if he deserved it or not.
It seemed impossible that he could have done what they claimed. But Joan had seen him. She had been a witness to his apparent homicide, and he could think of no reason why she would lie, why she would ever be so cruel. Far worse than the thought that he may have unknowingly killed a girl was the thought that Joan could hate him enough to play such a trick.
And so he must have done it.
He had killed that girl, but for the life of him, he didn’t know why. In all his time at the house - since that fateful day at the Magic Box - he had never felt much of a desire to kill a human. Sure, there had been people who had pissed him off, and - sure - he couldn’t say they didn’t sometimes smell tempting, but he had everything he could ever need in the form of his little makeshift family.
He loved patrolling with Joan, TV marathons with Dawn, sparring with Joan, Anya’s ridiculous bunny obsession, movie nights, date nights, volleyball games, dancing at the Bronze, dancing with Joan, the witches’ newest inventions-gone-wrong, their sun-adverse accommodating vacations, shopping trips where he was really just the bag-carrier, pool games with Alex, even Rupert’s weird, distant displays of affection. He was well fed, well loved, and every night he got to fall asleep next to his sweetheart.
And somehow, he had screwed everything up.
He let out a low groan that could almost be called a wail as the distress over all he had lost hit him like a physical blow while his stomach roiled.
She had looked at him with nothing less than revulsion. They didn’t believe him. He knew they didn’t. They thought he was lying, that he remembered everything, killed purposefully, maybe had been the whole time. It was written all over their faces. It was in the icy way his father had spoken to him. In the detachment of Anya’s questions, tempered for Rupert’s benefit more than any other. In Joan’s pained expression that was almost eclipsed entirely by a mixture of grief and fury and disgust.
They left him alone in this room, in the dark, like a convict on death row - which was, in all likelihood, exactly what he was.
Only he didn’t feel guilty, dammit! He didn’t deserve to dust. Even if he had killed that girl, it certainly hadn’t been of his own volition. Why couldn’t they see that? And, if no one else, why couldn’t she see that?
His wallowing was interrupted by soft footsteps in the hall, and he strained his ears to hear better, hoping whoever it was might open the door. He was so confused. To talk to someone - anyone - would be a welcome relief. The footsteps stopped briefly outside the door, but a few moments later he listened despairingly as they retreated back down the hall.
No one was coming. Which, he supposed, also meant no one had immediate plans to stake him.
It was a cold comfort.
***
The next day, Joan was determined and absolutely no one could dissuade her from it:
She was going to Katrina’s memorial.
When they could not convince her to stay, they all volunteered to accompany her instead. Joan had declined their offers, but Dawn had insisted - as had Willow and Tara - and someone had to drive them, so Rupert was going also. Only Anya and Alex were staying, Anya to open the Magic Box, and Alex to guard Randy at the house. Although guard was probably too strong a term. He was more like a cross-adorned alarm, instructed to call Rupert’s cell immediately if anything should come up.
The drive to Weatherly Park was uneventful and grim. No more than five sentences were spoken throughout the entire ride and most of them had been in regards to parking. Rupert had to park the convertible a few blocks away from the grassy park on account of the large amount of cars already there. The memorial itself was easily spotted by the medium-sized crowd that gathered near a section of iron fencing decorated by pictures and cards for Katrina. In the center of it all was a large easel with a blown-up picture of the young brunette listing her date of birth and death and some quote written in cursive that Joan couldn’t read.
While Weatherly Park - and most of the parks in Sunnydale - had held their fair share of memorials, Joan had never actually attended any before. She had no idea what the protocol was for such events, if she should have brought anything, or what generally took place.
Dawn grabbed her hand as they hung towards the back of the crowd, and Joan wasn’t sure if she did it to comfort or to be comforted. Dawn’s face was really too stony to tell. That she had come out of her room at all had been a surprise. That she insisted on attending the memorial was a shock. Dawn was still so angry… at everyone, her sister included. Whatever else Dawn might be feeling, she refused to discuss - if she even knew what she felt at all. Joan felt so many different things herself, that it had all started to feel like static.
Among the rest of the crowd, some people were crying, others were standing somberly as they looked over the pictures of a smiling Katrina or hung up their own on the fence. Condolences were murmured quietly between mourners, and Joan was sure Katrina’s family was likely in attendance, though she didn’t know where or what they looked like.
It was a bright California day, like any other, with a slight breeze that threatened to tear some of the badly tied down cards from the fence. Someone should really fasten them more securely, Joan thought, before they fly off. Why was no one worried about that?
Most of the attendees were dressed primarily in black, despite the heat, as if it were a funeral instead of a memorial, though perhaps the dress code was the same. There was no speaker or, if there was, they must have already spoken because no one addressed the crowd on Katrina’s or her family’s behalf. It was uncomfortably quiet, but maybe that was the point.
Joan flinched when Rupert rested a hand on her shoulder, as if remembering for the first time that she had a body. She looked to him, knowing he meant the gesture to be comforting, but his expression was as strained as she felt, and it only made her feel worse. Averting her gaze, she once again turned her attention to the crowd. It was better than facing Katrina’s pictures. From their expressions, it was clear not everyone was as close to the dead girl as others. In fact, a few people looked downright bored - there more out of obligation than any affection for the deceased. Still, everyone was appropriately respectful, either by experience or imitation.
Joan recognized only a few of the attendees. There were a couple members of the Sunnydale P.D., one of which Joan had spoken to on the night of the murder. One or two others, she had only ever seen in passing or at the Magic Box. Zack, the bouncer, stopped by briefly, stirring up painful memories of Randy with Katrina’s blood on his hands. It seemed she must have been a similarly bad reminder for him because he determinedly avoided her.
Throughout the memorial, the guilt built up. They were harboring this girl’s killer, after all. Katrina and everyone who loved her had a right for justice, but they could never get it. And even if they got something like it, they would never know. Because her killer wasn’t human.
Tara and Willow went to lay some daisies at the base of the fence. Joan had no idea where they had gotten them. It was the first time she noticed they were carrying flowers at all. Joan watched the witches’ progress, unwilling to accompany them any closer to those accusing eyes strung up all along the fence.
Joan might have missed him, if the boy didn’t jump when Tara and Willow passed. The witches eyed the blond boy, startled by the reaction, before moving on while he stared down at the ground awkwardly.
His reaction may have been what caught Joan’s attention, but the boy standing next to him was what kept it. It was Jonathan. She had all but forgotten about him. He was watching with a frown as Tara and Willow walked away. Finally, Joan drew the connection. The blond boy was one of the intruders who had broken into their house, and the tallest boy next to them made three. Joan recognized them from the grainy video Anya had shown her on the bunny cam.
Joan was halfway to them before she realized she had started moving. Just as Jonathan seemed to notice her approach, a woman beat her to the three boys and began talking with the tallest one. Joan stopped abruptly, not willing to interrupt the conversation as the dark haired boy pulled the woman into a hug. Jonathan was no longer looking at Joan or at anyone else. Instead, his eyes were fixed firmly on his shoes. The middle-aged woman who had been hugging either Warren or Andrew, Joan wasn’t sure which was which, pulled away and wiped at her eyes, offering him a watery smile.
A few moments later, the lady was walking away, and Joan thought she could resume her original trajectory towards the boys. However, the lady seemed to spot her and changed her course to head towards Joan.
“You’re the one who found my daughter,” the woman said when she came to a stop in front of Joan. The blood ran from Joan’s face as she took in Katrina’s mother, her eyes bloodshot from crying. The woman’s brown hair - so like Katrina’s - was pulled back in a tight bun that had nevertheless started to come undone, and her hollow cheeks were red and dry. She looked as if she hadn’t eaten or slept in weeks, though her daughter had died only two nights ago.
Joan could barely stand to look at her.
When Joan didn’t immediately answer, the woman added, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- Officer Nelson pointed you out earlier.”
Joan’s throat felt suddenly very dry, but she managed to rasp, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Katrina’s mother answered mechanically. She had probably said the same thing a million times over the last day. “And you didn’t- you didn’t see anyone? They said you didn’t, but are you sure? No one was nearby?” Her voice teetered between hope and desperation. It made Joan feel nauseous.
Joan shook her head numbly. “I’m sorry.”
The woman bit her lip and looked away before nodding briskly. “Why would she be in that alley? She didn’t…” the woman laughed humorlessly, “she always hated the Bronze.”
Joan had no answer for that. She hadn’t known Katrina. She hadn’t seen her in the Bronze before she witnessed her murder. Not that that meant anything. The Bronze was a busy place with lots of dark corners and two stories besides. But the woman didn’t really seem to be asking Joan. It almost felt like she had forgotten about Joan’s presence entirely.
“Who was that you were talking to earlier?” Joan asked, hoping to change the subject and also at least learn which boy was Warren and which was Andrew. She felt a pang of guilt for using the grieving mother for such a purpose, but she asked anyway. “Her brother?”
“What?” Katrina’s mother looked puzzled for a minute, then shook her head. “Oh, no, that was Warren. An old boyfriend of Katrina’s. He was a nice boy.”
“Oh,” Joan replied, her tone flat and posture awkward.
She smiled tightly. “Yes, well. Please excuse me.” Joan watched as tears once again welled in the woman’s eyes, and she pushed quickly past.
When Joan looked over at where the three boys had been standing, they were already gone.
Chapter 9: The Truth of the Matter Is...
Notes:
Previous Chapter Recap:
In the midst of this AU’s version of Dead Things, Randy has been restrained and imprisoned in Rupert’s office under suspicion of Katrina’s murder. The Scoobies are not yet sure what to do with him. Joan, Tara, Willow, Rupert, and Dawn attended Katrina’s memorial in the park where Joan spotted Jonathan, Andrew, and Warren. There she spoke to Katrina’s mother who informed her that Warren was an ex-boyfriend of Katrina’s.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
After the memorial, Joan’s thoughts were extremely muddled, like the Missouri. Was that the muddy one or was that the Mississippi? It didn’t matter. She had told Rupert, Tara, Willow, and Dawn to drive home without her. She wanted to walk - needed some time alone to sort herself out. Plus, she really didn’t want to sit still in the uncomfortably silent car ride back. She didn’t care that it was rapidly becoming sweltering under the bright summer sun or that her black clothes did nothing but trap the heat. Fresh air was fresh air, and it helped calm the slight case of nausea she’d had ever since talking to Katrina’s mom.
Joan recalled the woman’s bloodshot eyes and pleading expression as she asked Joan to fill in some of the blanks surrounding her daughter’s death.
But Joan couldn’t.
There was nothing she could tell Katrina’s mom. Joan didn’t know Katrina, didn’t know why she’d been at the Bronze that night. And Joan couldn’t tell the bereft mother about the vampire who murdered her daughter. Even if she did, there was no way the woman would have believed her. No, for some reason, the citizens of Sunnydale and the surrounding area were all convinced vampires were just “gang members on PCP.” Joan had no idea how that perception had started, but she wasn’t going to be the one to question it. After all, it still sounded more believable than undead demons who drank blood.
And then there was the peculiar matter of Jonathan, Andrew, and Warren: the three guys who had broken into Rupert and Anya’s house. Joan was irritated she hadn’t been able to corner them… even if a memorial wasn’t the ideal location. She couldn’t understand why they’d broken into her home, or why Jonathan had never shown up for their meeting, or why he had even wanted to have a meeting in the first place. There was something very off about those three boys, but Joan just couldn’t pin it down. It was times like these she really wished she had her old memories. Perhaps the old Buffy knew more about the burglars.
It was strange to learn that Warren had been an ex-boyfriend of Katrina’s. If she remembered correctly, Jonathan had told her that Warren had created a robot girlfriend, and Katrina hadn’t been a robot. Joan shuddered as the memory of her bloodied corpse resurfaced as if to prove the point. Maybe Warren had built the robot after their breakup? Which was of the majorly creepy.
Once they had dealt with… the whole situation with Randy, those three would move up to first priority on Joan’s list of– well, her list! She bet she could at least get Jonathan to spill the details on their little burglary attempt.
Her mind drifted from the break-in to earlier that same night when she and Randy had danced around the living room like a pair of lovestruck fools. She couldn’t wrap her mind around how he could do that. One minute playing the part of silly, loving boyfriend, and the next the role of callous murderer. He was either the best actor in the world or… or maybe there was some truth to what he said and something really had happened to him. But she couldn’t allow herself to think that way: the way she so badly wanted to think. It wasn’t fair to Katrina, and it played to her own biases. And so, for now, Randy was the best actor in the world.
***
Rupert, Tara, Willow, and Dawn arrived back at the house far ahead of Joan. Alex was sitting in the kitchen with the curtains drawn wide to let in as much sunlight as possible gripping a stake tightly in his hand. He wore three different cross necklaces of varying length, and two bottles of holy water sat open and ready on the counter. When they walked through the door, he dropped the stake and let out a relieved sigh. His shoulders slumped, as if he had been carrying a weight that had finally been lifted.
“Was there any trouble?” Rupert asked quietly. Despite Alex’s obvious tension, Rupert asked more out of politeness than concern of any real trouble. If there had been issues, Alex would have called… or he wouldn’t have been able to call.
Alex shook his head, just as Rupert had expected. “Uh, no. Haven’t heard a peep from him.”
Rupert nodded once, discarding his jacket. He should hang it up - the fabric would crease unattractively - but he tossed it carelessly over a chair back instead.
“How was the, ah, memorial?”
“Sad. Incredibly sad.” Rupert’s words were clipped, his expression closed off and guarded, and Alex wisely backed down.
“Where’s Joan?” Alex asked instead. Rupert was relieved for the redirection of the conversation, but Dawn spoke first.
“She wanted to walk back,” Dawn answered before tossing her own jacket on the coat rack and heading for the stairs. “I’m going to change.”
No one stopped her as the teen made her way up the stairs to her bedroom. She hadn’t said a word at the memorial, not even to Joan, and she had been silent on the car ride back. Though she had insisted on attending, it hadn’t brought out the communicative part of Dawn that seemed to have disappeared after the murder.
“She’s not taking it well,” Tara murmured once Dawn’s door had closed.
“I still don’t think you should have let her go,” Alex grumbled. “She didn’t need to see that.”
“She wanted to be there,” Willow countered defensively.
“So? If she wanted to drop out of school and play poker would you let her?”
“Alex, please,” Rupert interjected, holding a hand to his forehead to ward off an impending headache. His jaw was clenched so tightly he thought he might chip a tooth, and he consciously made an effort to release some of the building tension.
Alex shut his mouth and looked away, for which Rupert was grateful. What was done was done. There was no use in arguing about it now. He wondered how Anya was doing at the shop, wishing she could have been with them. She helped to keep him grounded and sometimes felt like the only other true adult in the house.
Rupert knew that, aside from Dawn, his fellow amnesiacs were all technically adults in the eyes of the law. However, he often felt like he and Anya served as the responsible parental figures for the group. He had at first wondered if this had to do with their ownership of the house and the Magic Box, but began to suspect it was more due to a certain level of maturity not yet reached by the others. For Rupert himself, this made sense. He was over a decade older than even Anya. However, if Halfrek’s claims were to be believed, Anya could very well have been alive for a dozen lifetimes… Maybe that would explain some things.
And, of course, no one really knew how old Randy was. Although, Rupert reasoned his son was likely older than the rest.
He loved all his newfound friends regardless of the circumstances that had brought them all together. That didn’t change the fact that he was the one they looked to when things got tough. He was the one who would fix things and find the answers when no one else could. True, he wouldn’t go out and fight evil every night like Joan and Randy, but he handled the housing and the allocation of bills and funding. He handled Alex’s loans and payment for everyone at the Magic Box. He handled driving Dawn to school and often assisted with her homework. He handled all “tenant” disputes and was the one most often left to discipline Dawn when necessary. He was the one who solved most of the non-violent aspects of Joan and Randy’s superhero endeavors and all manner of research. He was the one they all came to for advice and support. All in all, it left Rupert lacking the kind of support offered by one’s equals and peers, aside from Anya and Randy. Since Randy was presently out of the question, Anya had become his only true confidant.
But with Anya currently minding the shop, he would just have to speak to Randy alone. However, before he could go to his office, Dawn marched her way down the stairs, now dressed in casual jeans and a t-shirt and seemingly intent on leaving the house.
“Where are you going?” Willow asked her nervously. She had moved to the kitchen and looked like she was about to prepare a kettle.
“For a walk,” Dawn replied curtly without pausing her stride.
Willow and Tara shared a look across the counter. “I don’t know if you should be walking alone,” Willow said, biting the inside of her cheek. “Why don’t Tara and I come with?”
Dawn sighed, stopping at the door. “I’ll only be gone for like fifteen minutes, guys. Really, it’s fine. Daylight and everything.”
Then Willow and Tara looked to Rupert. Because, as usual, he was the responsible party whenever Joan and Randy were away and sometimes even when they weren’t.
“Very well, Dawn,” Rupert said. “Stay within five blocks of the house.”
Dawn opened her mouth as if to argue, thought better of it, then nodded and disappeared out the door, alone.
“Alex, why don’t you join Anya at the shop?” Rupert suggested. “I’m sure she’d be relieved to have the help after being alone all morning.”
Alex hesitated a moment before agreeing. “Alright. There were a few displays I wanted to build, but… are you sure?”
“Yes,” Rupert reaffirmed. “I think it’s best to– to keep your mind occupied until we can come up with a solution to the current…” He trailed off without finishing his thought, but Alex didn’t comment.
“I’ll be back after closing,” Alex told them. “Call if you guys need anything.”
When Alex had left, Rupert was left alone with the two witches, which was just as well. He needed to speak with them. A thought had occurred to him, something he hoped could help their current dilemma.
“Willow and Tara,” he started seriously, causing the witches to immediately fix their full attention on him, “I must ask if the two of you would feel comfortable casting a truth spell?”
The girls exchanged a nervous glance that didn’t seem especially promising.
“Um, we might be able to,” Tara answered slowly. “I- I’m not sure if it would work on a vampire.” Tara had already accurately guessed as to why Rupert would want such a spell. In hindsight, it seemed like a perfectly good way to determine what happened with certainty. It would, at the very least, let them know whether Randy thought he was telling the truth… if it worked on vampires.
“And we’d need to make a stop at the Magic Box,” Willow added, setting the kettle she’d been holding down thoughtfully. “We don’t have that kind of spellbook here at the house. Plus, we probably don’t have all the ingredients.”
“But you think you could do it?” Rupert’s voice inflected upwards, cautiously optimistic.
Willow worried her lip and frowned, casting another questioning glance at Tara. Rupert understood their hesitation. For all their innovation, the girls were still fairly new to magic and many of their charms were relatively small and highly experimental. The locator spell they had tried to use on Randy had proven ineffectual just a couple days ago.
“Maybe if we worked on some grounding and focusing magicks for a bit first?” Tara suggested encouragingly, reaching across the counter to take Willow’s hand. “We could do some research at the magic shop and try the spell tonight?”
Willow gave Tara a small smile and squeezed her hand. “Alright.”
Tara squeezed back fondly before turning to Rupert. “We’ll walk over to the Magic Box and get started. Are you sure you’re okay here alone?”
“Yes, I’ll be quite alright. Thank you, girls. We’ll meet you at the shop later.”
While the witches readied themselves to head to the shop, Rupert made his way slowly back to his office.
The office used to be his favorite room in the house. A place for respite and quiet. As much as he loved Anya, Randy, and his friends, Rupert still had a need for occasional solitude and reflection. He enjoyed reclining in the chair his son was now tied to and settling in with an interesting book or taking some time to practice the guitar he’d found he could play. Occasionally, Anya would join him and listen to him practice, and the room was open to her if she ever wanted to use it for her own endeavors. He and Anya had decorated it together with items from his old apartment and some newer embellishments Anya had selected. He feared the space might be ruined for him after the events of the last couple days.
He took a breath and opened the door to the dark room, flicking on the lights as he entered. Randy was seated at the room’s center in front of the desk, blinking at the sudden change in lighting. He was still bound and shackled and did not appear to have moved since Rupert and Joan had first imprisoned him there - though the gag had fallen down around his neck. Rupert shut the door softly behind him, never taking his eyes off Randy.
“Come to kill me, Rupert?” Randy asked bitterly, eyes cast to the floor.
“No.” Rupert took a few steps forward to stand in front of Randy’s chair and waited until the vampire looked up. “Tara and Willow are preparing a truth spell. Tonight we will ascertain the validity of your story.”
Randy only stared at him, the smallest crease forming between his brows.
Rupert continued, “If what you’ve told us is, in fact, not the truth, I suggest you come clean now before further damage can be done.”
For a moment, Randy seemed puzzled, then suddenly he brightened. “I’m sorry to disappoint, Rupes, but I’m telling the god’s honest truth. And you’ll find that out, tonight.” Rupert was surprised by his sudden shift in demeanor. He had been expecting Randy to shout and argue and be his usual stubborn self. It was almost enough to make him hope–
Rupert frowned grimly. “I certainly hope so.” A long pause. “Because if we find that you’re lying, I would have to kill you.”
Randy’s gaze immediately fell back to the ground and Rupert fought back the lump that was forming in his throat at the sight of the bowed head of his son. After a silence that was almost suffocating, Randy asked roughly, “Is Joan home?”
Rupert shook his head despite Randy not being able to see the gesture. “Not yet. She decided to walk home from Katrina’s memorial service.”
“Ah.”
Rupert pursed his lips and turned to leave before hesitating at the door. “I’ll, ah, bring you something to eat.”
“Thanks,” Randy mumbled back, head still lowered.
***
Dawn hadn’t listened to Rupert when he’d instructed her to stay within five blocks of the house. She was sixteen years old! She could go on a walk through Sunnydale in the daytime like every other sixteen year old in town. She wasn’t stupid. She stayed on well traveled roads in places she knew and was now walking down Main Street toward the Magic Box and the Espresso Pump.
She had just needed to get out of the house for a little while. If it worked for Joan, maybe it would work for her too. She was sick of hiding out in her bedroom with everyone trying to pester her into talking. She didn’t want to talk. And she wasn’t sure she could face Randy.
She’d almost checked in on him last night, had stood outside the office door with her hand on the doorknob only to turn away at the last second. She just wanted to know why. But she was afraid of what his answer might be.
She cut into the alley behind the Magic Box toward Maple Court, intending to stop by the Espresso Pump for a sugary, over-priced mocha before walking back to the house. It was just the thing to help her drown her sorrows and provide some kind of normal distraction, instead of the whole “my sister’s vampire boyfriend just murdered someone” catastrophe holding full reign over her mind. Walking outside like a normal human going to get a normal coffee could almost make her believe it was just another normal day.
Dawn was surprised to see the white van blocking up most of the alleyway behind the Magic Box. Normally, it was a no parking zone to keep it free for the trash collectors and supply drops. She knew because Rupert would complain excessively about it anytime they were forced to have someone towed, especially if it meant the trash didn’t get collected that week. Dawn wondered if Anya had noticed the van yet.
When she was within ten yards of the vehicle, she thought she spotted movement behind the windshield, but the glare of the sun prevented her from seeing easily through the glass. Regardless, Dawn cautiously approached the vehicle and quickly darted past it before anyone would hopefully have time to react. Dawn found herself sprinting the rest of the way down the alley until she came out on Maple Court. Glancing over her shoulder as she caught her breath, she hurried the rest of the way to the Espresso Pump. She couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine at the thought someone could have been watching her from the windshield.
On the way back, she avoided the alleys.
***
When both Joan and Dawn had returned to the house, Rupert filled them in on his plan to perform a truth spell on Randy at the Magic Box once it was dark.
“Willow and Tara are already there preparing for the spell,” Rupert explained. “Once we know if he truly does not remember the event, we can move forward accordingly.”
“And if he’s lying?” Joan asked. Her arms were crossed over her chest, but she met Rupert’s gaze directly as she spoke.
Rupert glanced down. “I rather thought we could discuss the ramifications of that scenario when and if it comes to pass.”
One look over at Dawn stopped Joan from pursuing that line of questioning. She would put it off for a time when her kid sister wasn’t in the room hanging on every word.
“I’ll need your help transporting him,” Rupert told Joan. “We’ll need to untie him, though we can leave the handcuffs in place.”
Joan nodded. “I can keep him restrained in the car.” Then she turned to Dawn. “Dawn, you’ll stay here while we do the spell. We shouldn’t be gone long.”
Dawn balked and shook her head. “What? No way! I’m coming with.”
Buffy had expected that response, but it didn’t make it any more pleasant to deal with. “It wasn’t a request.” It was better Dawn wasn’t there to witness the interrogation in case they ended up with answers they’d rather not hear.
Dawn crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. “Joan, this isn’t something you can protect me from. No matter what happens with the spell, I’m going to have to know eventually. Randy is my friend too. He lives in our house! What, do you think I’m not going to ask questions if he just… disappears?!”
The emotions that Joan had managed to tuck safely away in compartmentalized little boxes threatened to burst from their tethers at Dawn’s outraged glare… or maybe it was the thought of Randy disappearing. But she held it together, closing her eyes as she inhaled deeply.
“Fine,” Joan all but whispered. “You can sit in the front with Rupert. Randy and I will take the backseat.”
Dawn’s shoulders sagged in relief, and Joan got the feeling Dawn hadn’t expected to win the argument. “Okay, good.”
Guess I should’ve held out longer, Joan thought tiredly.
***
Almost too soon, the sun had set over Sunnydale, and it was time to transport a vampire. Joan had unbound Randy - save for the handcuffs - while Rupert stood guard with his crossbow. Then Joan and Rupert escorted the unresisting vampire to the backseat of Rupert’s convertible after strategically placing a jacket to conceal Randy’s bound hands from any curious observers. Joan held on to Randy’s elbow in a grip intended to be firm but not painful, but he made no move to escape.
Joan didn’t like the way Randy kept staring at her without saying anything. It was unnerving. She did her best to keep her gaze averted from his face. It was a bit easier that way - barely. Every time she looked at him she saw her friend, her partner, her lover. And that simply couldn’t be what she saw right now. She had to stay focused and detached… like a judge.
She was a terrible judge.
There was still the possibility that Randy was telling the truth. God, she wanted to believe he was telling the truth. But she refused to let the hope in. Because if she did that, catching him in a lie later would crush her completely. It was better to prepare for the worst.
Dawn and Rupert exited the car first when they reached the Magic Box.
As their doors slammed shut, Randy shifted slightly in his seat, looking down at Joan. “I’m not lying, Joan,” he assured her quietly. “Don’t worry, love.”
“I hope you’re right,” she replied, risking a glance at his wistful face. It was so deceptively earnest, one could almost forget he was a lethal weapon in his own right. Then again, so was she. The only difference was, her base nature didn’t include feeding off of humans.
Rupert opened the door for them, waiting expectantly, and then the group was walking to the Magic Box. The bell above the door announced their entry with Dawn leading. Inside, the witches were set up at the back table near the counter. The circular tabletop was covered in patterns drawn out in salt and interspersed with strategically placed candles. Willow was holding up an open spellbook while Tara held a bundle of unknown herbs in her lowered hands.
Anya had just finished flipping the shop’s sign to “Closed,” and Alex was sitting on the steps to the loft, head bowed and foot tapping. Dawn moved quickly to join Tara and Willow, examining the table arrangement with equal parts curiosity and apprehension.
“All set?” Joan asked, grip tightening on Randy’s arm.
Willow nodded solemnly. “Yep, whenever you’re ready.” Joan half hoped she had imagined the little tremor that seemed to shake the spellbook Willow held. Willow’s nervousness made Joan nervous. If the truth spell went sideways, would Randy catch fire like the botched locator spell had incinerated their map?
“We, um, still don’t know if the spell will work on a vampire,” Tara added with a frown. “The spell is typically meant for, well, living things. The magic is based in physical reactions like heart rate, breathing, and perspiration, but it also uses physical ticks and- and some other magicks we aren’t really sure about. So, maybe?”
Joan fought hard not to wear her fear too plainly. The witches' assertions were anything but reassuring.
***
Jonathan hated the stupid van. He had spent far too many hours trapped rocking around on the hard floor of the back storage area while rolling chairs hit him from every direction. Warren and Andrew got the comfy driver and passenger seats, of course.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
He no longer cared that he was basically just third-wheeling his two “friends” or that they didn’t respect him or his place on the “team.” He just wanted to be done with their entire alliance, cut ties and run. Hopefully bury the memories down so deep, he never thought about them again in his life.
Warren had killed Katrina right in front of him. They had had to transport her dead body in this very van. And Jonathan had, as usual, got stuck in the back with the corpse while they drove it across Sunnydale. He had vomited twice, and Warren had yelled at him to get a grip. They were all in this now, and they had to clean up the mess. And they had.
Jonathan wished more than anything that he hadn’t skipped out on his arranged meeting with Buffy. Maybe, if he had gone, he wouldn’t be in this mess now. But Andrew and Warren had caught on to his plan, spotting the end of his conversation with Buffy at the volleyball game. They had scared him with threats about how if they went down, he’d go down with them. Well, at least back then, they wouldn’t all be going down for murder.
And might be going down for another one yet.
Warren and Andrew were seated in front of the surveillance monitors in the back of the van, watching what was currently going on in the Magic Box. Jonathan stood back, trying to keep his head down and stay out of the way.
“I thought you said they would kill the vampire,” Warren snapped at Andrew.
“I thought they would!” Andrew yelped. “I know we convinced Buffy! I figured she’d just stake him immediately.”
“Well, you were obviously wrong.” Warren eyed Andrew up and down. “Why am I even surprised?”
“Hey! Maybe your performance just sucked!”
Warren held up his hands and closed his eyes. “Okay, okay. This is fine. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we got Katrina and the police off our hands.”
“What about the-” Jonathan started.
“We’re still doing it,” Warren shot back, eyes narrowed. “The plan doesn’t change.”
“But-”
“We need Buffy off our backs,” Warren steamrolled over him impatiently. “The vampire will distract her, but you know she’s never gonna stop. Once she’s gone, we’ll be home free, and you can run off to Timbuktu just like you wanted.” Warren grinned, picking up the detonator. “You sure you got it right?”
***
Joan escorted Randy towards the awaiting witches with Rupert trailing after them.
She wasn’t sure exactly what happened after that.
She had heard something drop behind her, and she had somehow lost her grip on Randy’s arm. As she whipped around, Randy had shoved her halfway across the room, and she watched in slow motion as Rupert lunged to restrain him. Randy met his father like a linebacker in a hard tackle, sending them both sliding across the floor back towards the door. A bright light temporarily blinded her, and then there was nothing but Randy’s pained groans as he clutched desperately at his head.
It took Joan a moment to realize that her ears were ringing and she had somehow gotten to her feet. She didn’t think a noise had accompanied the light, but there must have been. The painful ringing was a testament to that. Willow, Tara, and Dawn were all rubbing at their eyes and Alex was blinking rapidly. Rupert struggled to his feet, limping slightly as he frowned down at his incapacitated son.
Where the light beam had struck was nothing but a blackened hole that had melted the tile and scorched the ceiling in a perfect circle about five feet in diameter. That was when Joan noticed the singed metal box that appeared to have been bolted to the ceiling, a flap swinging on its hinges, as if the box had already unleashed its terrible contents. One thing was clear, anyone standing in that circle at the time of the blast would have been incinerated.
“What the hell just happened?” Alex shouted, wide eyes fixed on the black hole on the floor.
Dawn ran to her sister and crashed into her, hugging her tightly. Joan realized that she was shaking, and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was from Dawn or herself. Joan wrapped her arms around Dawn and told her it was alright, ignoring for the moment just how much of a lie that was.
“Randy, are you alright?” Rupert asked as Randy staggered to his feet, hands still pressed to his forehead. It seemed Randy’s crimes had temporarily been forgotten in light of their near deaths, and Rupert’s voice held nothing but concern.
“Dunno,” Randy gritted out, giving his head a shake as he winced. “God, my head feels like it’s been barbecued… or maybe struck by lightning. That was bloody searing.”
“Maybe it was from the, um, flash thingy?” Willow offered, brows knitted tightly together as she struggled to make sense of what had just happened.
“No, was fine until I tackled, Rupes, here,” Randy replied, gesturing his bound hands toward Rupert.
Rupert frowned. “I see…” He eyed Randy appraisingly before squaring his shoulders. “Randy, punch me.” He tensed, then added hastily, “In the arm!”
Randy’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You hit your head a little too hard, Rupert?”
“Just do it,” Rupert snapped.
Randy sighed and shook his head, but lined up his cuffed hands and sent an awkward punch into Rupert’s upper arm. A second later, Randy was staggering back from his father, cursing loudly and clutching at his head again.
“What the hell?” Randy growled.
Rupert ran a hand down his face, and Joan could almost see the wheels in his head turning. She, for one, didn’t really get it. But somehow, it seemed Randy got shocked whenever he tried to hurt Rupert. Maybe it was some kind of spell?
“Alex, if you would.” Rupert gestured for Alex to join him.
Alex hesitantly walked over, giving the burnt-out circle a wide berth. “Yeah?”
“Randy, hit Alex.”
“What?” Alex exclaimed. “No, no. Don’t hit Alex!”
“I want to test something,” Rupert said irritably, grabbing Alex’s shoulders and moving him in front of Randy. “In the arm.”
Randy seemed a bit reluctant to agree. It might have been due to not wanting to punch Alex or it might have been because of the possible pain the hit could invoke. After a brief hesitation, Randy hit Alex in the arm, though noticeably softer than he’d hit Rupert.
Again, Randy yelped and clutched at his head, breathing heavily as if the unnecessary action might dull the pain or at least distract from it.
“Randy can’t hurt humans,” Rupert said finally, looking almost shocked at his discovery.
“He can hurt me,” Joan said, holding Dawn a little tighter. “I’m human.”
“Yes, but you are… well, a bit more than human, Joan,” Rupert said, rapidly gaining excitement. “You have enhanced abilities. Perhaps Randy is only prevented from hurting your… Average Joe, for lack of a better term.”
“Are you sayin’ I’ve got a bleedin’ shock collar?” Randy demanded incredulously.
“I’m saying,” Rupert smiled brightly, “you didn’t kill Katrina Sibler.”
Notes:
So, they've discovered that Randy couldn't have killed Katrina! That's a step forward at least... right?
For any who might be curious, I just wanted to let you know that this AU only VERY loosely follows the season 6 timeline and I bend it around quite a bit. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 10: Tentative Leads
Notes:
Previous Chapter Recap:
After attending Katrina’s memorial, Rupert decided that a truth spell would be the best way to discover if Randy is telling the truth about not remembering killing Katrina. Dawn took a walk to get away from the house and ran into an unsettling van behind the Magic Box. Later that evening, Rupert, Joan, Dawn, and Randy drove to the Magic Box where the rest of the Scoobies were waiting to perform the spell. The Trio watched them arrive from the surveillance monitors in their van, surprised that Randy was still alive after their set-up. The Trio had some sort of explosive device that they detonated in an attempt to kill Joan; however, it failed. In the process, the Scoobies discovered that Randy would get shocked whenever he tried to hurt a “normal” human.
Chapter Text
The incongruity between the blackened tile of their almost-demise and Rupert’s wide grin landed hard between discombobulating and disconcerting, leaving Joan with absolutely no idea what to think. All manner of wild conclusions jockeyed for position in her brain – a haphazard race of fleeting thoughts with no clear winners or desired outcomes. The threads of reason jumbled together – over and under, round and round – and trying to unknot them only seemed to succeed in entangling them further. The harsh scent of burnt laminate assaulted her nose, forcing her to focus, and reminded her of what was likely the most pressing issue: someone had tried to kill them.
Dawn released Joan from their tight hug and turned her attention back to the scowling vampire and his two recent human punching bags. Joan couldn’t help but follow her lead, hoping someone would bother to explain just what exactly had happened and how.
“Look I hate to play devil’s advocate here,” Alex was rubbing his arm where Randy had hit him, a grimace on his face that betrayed the amount of force Randy’s ‘weak’ punch had inflicted, “but, if Randy didn’t kill Katrina, how do you explain what Joan saw?”
“Some kind of spell?” Anya offered tentatively as she eyed the blast zone. “A glamor, maybe? Or perhaps some sort of mind control? Wait, no, because Randy can’t, um, hurt humans.”
Joan did recall that Randy had been dressed strangely the night in the alley, wearing clothes she’d never seen before. Odd, considering all his clothes were in their shared room, tucked away in the closet right next to hers, and she had helped him pick a large portion of them out. Still, why would anyone want to impersonate Randy? Or, more accurately, why would anyone try to frame Randy for murder? It seemed strangely personal, and chillingly deliberate. However, after the attempt on their lives, it couldn’t surprise Joan that someone might detest them enough to enact such a deception.
“Uh, guys?” Willow asked, slowly getting up from where she had ducked down behind the table. “I’m really relieved that Randy’s not a murderer – really, I am – but there was a bomb. Someone just tried to kill or- or seriously maim you guys!”
“Wasn’t a bomb.” Randy’s brows furrowed as he stared at the ground, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. Joan watched a range of emotions flicker across his face before he finally settled on grim. “There was this pouch thing. I saw one just before-” He cut himself off, eyes narrowing. “I saw one just like it. It was the last thing I remember before I woke up in that crypt. Didn’t think much of it at the time. ‘Course that one hadn’t been sparking like a Molotov cocktail.”
Joan opened her mouth to question him more about the explosive pouch thing, but a piercing screech followed by a loud, metallic crash caused the words to die in her mouth. It sounded as if someone had put a microphone to a chalkboard before slashing their nails down it… if that microphone also happened to be hooked up to a heavy-duty amplifier.
The noise came from the direction of the back training room, and Joan was off in a flash – acting entirely on instinct and holding her stake at the ready. The training room was empty as she charged through the interior door and flicked on the bright overhead lights. After a quick scan of the room confirmed nothing was disturbed, she hurried on to the metal door that led out to the alleyway behind the shop. She paused, tensing in preparation, then flung the door open wide. Anyone standing too close would have been instantly stunned by the force of the swinging steel, but it hit nothing but the brick wall at the end of its180 degree arc.
When she spun out into the darkness, she found the alleyway deserted. However, the large green dumpster belonging to the Magic Box had been sideswiped and now stood at an angle against the building. It hadn’t come out unscathed. Aside from the scratches, one of the plastic covers had completely ripped off its hinges and was gently rocking on the pavement below in a bad imitation of a cradle. Joan shook her head, sheathing her stake just as the others piled out after her. Whoever it had been, they were clearly gone now, and they’d left in a hurry.
“What is it, Joan?” Alex asked, holding one of the practice staffs and whipping his head around in all directions. “Vampires?”
“Not sure. But someone was definitely in a rush to get out of here.” Joan nodded at the damaged dumpster as proof.
“Uh!” Anya exclaimed, running over to the dumpster and grimacing at the new dents and gouges. “This is city property! We’ll have to pay for a replacement!”
A travesty, to be sure, Joan thought, rolling her eyes.
Tara’s lips were pursed, and she stared off down the alley as if she might be able to make out what was already long gone. “Do you think whoever it was caused the explosion?” she asked thoughtfully. It was a reasonable suspicion, as far as Joan was concerned.
“It’s quite a coincidence that the hit occurred almost immediately following the explosion,” Rupert conceded.
“Maybe it was that creepy van,” Dawn added with a shiver.
Joan’s head snapped to her sister. “What creepy van?” The coincidences just kept coming. Surely it wouldn’t be the same van. Surely.
Dawn shrugged sheepishly. “Well, I- I mean, earlier I saw this white van parked back here. I just figured Anya would have it towed or something.”
Anya shook her head in the negative. “I haven’t been out here all day. Too busy, not enough staff.”
“Earlier?” Rupert pondered aloud before his eyes narrowed in on Dawn. “When were you-?”
“Where’s Randy?” Joan asked suddenly. Everyone had followed her out into the alley, but Randy was nowhere to be seen.
Joan quickly made her way back inside and found him with his eyes fixed to the ground in the training room, seemingly lost in his own world. She didn't think she’d ever seen Randy look so pensive before. He didn’t even glance up at her approach. The word ‘lost’ came to mind.
She had almost lost him.
It was then that the overwhelming sense of relief finally hit her, delayed by shock and adrenaline. Randy hadn’t killed Katrina. It was just a nightmare, a trick. Randy was just as he’d ever been, her steadfast partner. And she was going to track down whoever or whatever was responsible for putting that into question.
But not right now.
She launched herself at him, burying her face in his neck. “I’m sorry, Randy.” She did her best not to squeeze him too hard, but she had a feeling she was failing on that account.
Wrapping his arms around her almost mechanically, he ran a hand down over her hair in a gesture he’d performed a thousand times before. “S’alright, love. Not your fault.”
“I owe you an apology as well,” Rupert said from behind her. “It seems we were tricked.”
Without letting go of Joan, Randy replied, “Can’t say it didn’t sting a bit. But I get it.” A pause. “Thanks.”
“Do I dare ask for what?” Rupert asked, guilt apparent on his face.
Randy shrugged. “Apologizin’’.”
A second later Joan found herself caught up in another hug as Rupert held tightly to both of them. It was one of those awkward Randy-Rupert hugs that everyone had grown accustomed to, only this time Joan was up close and personal. When Rupert released them, he put one hand on Randy’s shoulder and nodded. It almost looked as though he wanted to say something, but instead he stepped away.
Randy just looked a bit embarrassed, eyes fixed on the cuffs still restraining his hands. Joan kicked herself as she took notice of the restraints and pulled the key from her pocket, quickly freeing him. Randy rubbed at his wrists before turning his gaze back to the rest of the group.
A stream of apologies flew out from them like the breaking of a dam. Anya gave him a pat on the head and stated just how pleased she was that her step-son wasn’t a serial killer. Dawn’s apology was more just a litany of assertions how she just knew it couldn’t have been true. And Willow, Tara, and Alex followed Rupert and Joan’s example in the way of the group hug.
Randy seemed a bit taken aback by the display, but he didn’t complain. He didn’t say much at all.
Despite the general air of relief, it was clear everyone was emotionally taxed out for the evening, and Rupert made the executive decision that they all retire and come back to the explosion issue in the morning for a fresh start.
Uncertain of the extent of the danger, Joan and Rupert insisted Alex spend the night at the house on the pull-out couch, and the entire party traveled home together.
It wasn’t until Randy and Joan were alone in their room getting ready for bed when it struck her just how off things were. Randy had barely said five words since they’d left the Magic Box, and now he seemed to be deliberately keeping his distance from her, locking her out of the bathroom and tactically moving away whenever she veered too close.
She supposed she should have expected it. She’d accused him of murder and chained him up in his own house; she couldn’t expect him to just get over it. Of course, that didn’t make his avoidance hurt any less. She had just gotten him back, and it already felt like she was losing him all over again.
Randy emerged from the bathroom fully dressed in his sweatpants and a cotton tee, fresh from a shower. Damp curls hanging loosely on his forehead freed from their usual gel, intimating vulnerability and security that she didn’t feel. Joan could easily make out the red marks around his wrists from where the handcuffs had chaffed, and she was instantly hit with another wave of guilt. Apparently it was still high tide.
Joan had already changed into pajamas while she waited for him and was now sitting upright on their bed cross-legged, fidgeting with the seam of the comforter.
He sighed when he spotted her, running one hand down over his face. “Alright, out with it.” He stayed near the bathroom door as he said it, remaining distant.
Joan pursed her lips, trying to read his expression, but whatever he might have conveyed was lost on her. “Are you okay?”
He let out a quick huff of air that wasn’t quite a scoff. “No, not really.”
Duh, of course he wasn’t. It was a stupid question.
Joan bit into her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “I’m sorry that I didn’t realize it wasn’t you. I should’ve known–”
Randy shook his head, brows knitting together as his face screwed up in bewilderment. He quickly cut her off, “What? No. No, Joan I’m not…” His shoulders slumped slightly and he finally moved over to the bed, though he sat down at the edge farthest from her. “Not upset with you, love. What else were you supposed to think? No way you could’ve known.”
It was her turn to be puzzled. “So, if that’s not what’s bothering you, what is? Randy, I can take it. You can tell me. You don’t have to just- just get over it. We tied you to a chair and threatened to kill you.” She wanted to reach out to him, but she was too afraid he might pull away.
He chuckled a bit at that. “Yeah, not the best time of my life, I’ll admit.” He turned to face her, blue eyes boring into hers. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt you. Right?”
“Well yeah, duh.” Well, she had doubted it for a minute there, but now? Of course he wouldn’t. Joan couldn’t help but be surprised by the direction of the conversation. She had expected him to be mad, resentful, hurt. Instead, it was like he was trying to comfort her.
He nodded, gaze falling down to the mattress. “Guess I was just wonderin’ what it means.”
She wasn’t following his logic. He was being all cryptic and vague. “What what means?”
“I can’t hurt humans, Joan,” he said tonelessly. “I can’t. Back at the shop, when I tried? It felt like I’d gone a round in the electric chair. Now, I may not be the brightest bulb, but even I know that’s not a default setting.” He paused, letting a long silence stretch between them. “So why?”
Joan was at a loss. She hadn’t really thought about why Randy might be getting electrocuted whenever he attempted to hurt a human. They certainly hadn’t run into any other vampires with that issue, which was too bad really, it would have made her job easier.
“What if I wasn’t good?” he asked softly.
She froze for a split second before blurting out, “Why would you say that?”
He looked up and arched his brow, incredulity laced with self-derision. “Someone muzzled me. They don’t exactly do that to the good doggies.”
So that was what had him so upset. He was worried the past version of himself had been a bad guy – someone who would’ve tried to hurt them.
She reached out a hand to him and rapidly opened and closed her fingers a few times. “Come here.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Joan, we don’t know that I wasn’t– You don't really know me.”
She leaned forward and tugged at his arm until he finally relented and laid back with her. Snaking one arm around his torso, she pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, satisfied when she finally felt some of the tension seep from his body. “I know you now. That’s all that matters.” She propped her head up on her elbow and looked down at him, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. “And, you know, we’ll figure it out. I promise, starting tomorrow, we’ll look into what’s going on up in that pretty little head of yours. If that’s what you want.”
“Pretty, is it?” He snorted, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. “You’re a hell of woman, Joan.”
***
Rupert was having a difficult time getting to sleep, though he doubted he was the only one. In fact, he knew he wasn’t the only one, because Anya was tossing and turning next to him, uprooting and mussing up all the bed linens. At least she appeared to be in an only half-conscious state, whereas he was wide awake.
He had, of course, been thrilled to discover Randy’s innocence in the matter of Katrina Sibler’s murder. However, his relief was now overshadowed by disquiet and misgiving. The explosion at the Magic Box had been… disturbing, to say the least. Someone or something was targeting them, and Rupert had no idea why. Even worse, the ‘why’ had likely been lost with the rest of their memories and would make finding the perpetrator extremely difficult.
In addition, Rupert could not say if only one of them or all of them had been the intended victim of the explosion. If only Anya could’ve installed bunny cams at the Magic Box as well… The fake security cameras in place as a deterrent obviously weren’t working.
Unfortunately, the only leads they had to go on were Randy’s faceless kidnappers and a mysterious white van that kept popping up. Which was to say, they knew essentially nothing.
Something else was bothering him as well, though he had done his best to push it to the back of his mind. It had to do with Randy’s discovered inability to harm normal humans. While it was reassuring to confirm Randy couldn’t have killed Katrina, the reasoning behind this handicap was perplexing. Firstly, Rupert had to wonder what could possibly have been done to elicit a pain response in Randy at any attempt to harm a human. Could it be a spell? Rupert was not aware of any such spell, but that did not mean one didn’t exist. Which raised the question of who would have cast such a spell and why.
There was only one conclusion that immediately jumped to mind, and Rupert hated to consider it. But the nagging thought refused to be ignored. Who else would have cast a spell on Randy to effectively muzzle him? Someone who wanted to keep Randy alive while still ensuring he could not harm anyone.
The answer seemed terribly obvious. Rupert, sometime in the days before he lost his memories, must have cast some sort of restraining spell on his vampiric son.
It unsettled him to no end. The fact that Randy had needed to be restrained at all caused him no small amount of anxiety. Had it been that, sometime after becoming a vampire, Randy had been just as much of a killer as the demons he now hunted? Only to be stopped by a father that loved him too much to kill him?
Rupert sighed heavily and turned over on his side to find Anya wide awake and staring at him.
“Can’t sleep?” She spoke quietly, as if trying not to shatter the silence that otherwise surrounded them.
“No.” He chuckled ruefully. “It appears not.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I can’t either. Still too wound up.” The words were followed by a long pause that suggested she had more to say. However, her face was obscured in the dim light of the bedroom, and he couldn’t guess what she might be thinking. “Rupert?” Her voice sounded tentative.
“Yes?” He was a bit taken aback by her tone. Anya was seldom tentative about anything. And it rarely ever showed so clearly in her speech.
“I was just thinking… whoever planted that bomb, well they must not like us very much,” she began. Rupert would have to agree with that, but he waited for her to continue. “And it doesn’t strike me as a particularly, um, demonic move. I mean, the vampires are usually a bit lax on the planning and more with the impulsivity.” Again, he could find no argument with her statement. “In fact, it seems like a pretty witchy thing to do. Which got me thinking that the glamor or memory-altering spell used on Randy and the explosion could be linked.”
Rupert nodded in assent. “Yes, I came to the same conclusion when Randy mentioned the incendiary device looked similar to the pouch he ran across before he woke up in a crypt.”
“Exactly. So someone snuck into the Magic Box, planted the bomb, and waited around to detonate it. Possibly the same people that Joan says have been stalking her in that van.” A pause. “How did they know when to detonate it?”
Rupert’s brows furrowed, unsure what she was getting at. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“The Magic Box was closed. No one was inside besides us. How would they have known you, Joan, and Randy were coming? And how did they detonate it when you were directly above the device? It’s strange.”
He hadn’t thought of that, but now that she mentioned it, it did seem a bit too perfect, too planned.
“And who else has been spying on us? Breaking into our house…”
“You think those boys did this?” Rupert asked, surprised. Yes, the strange trio had committed a crime in the form of breaking and entering, but it seemed somewhat of a stretch to jump to murder.
Anya gave a small shrug. “I don’t know. Joan told me that the Warren boy made robots and Andrew had associations with hellhounds. And Johnathan had told her they were up to something bad.”
Rupert nodded along thoughtfully. “I suppose it would be worth looking into.”
She smirked back at him and added pointedly, “In the morning. I know you’re thinking about running off to the office, and I won’t allow it.”
“I was thinking no such thing!” At least, he wasn’t anymore.
Anya rolled her eyes knowingly before tossing a pillow at his face.
***
The next morning, everyone gathered in the living room, loaded up with tea and sporting those just-woke-up expressions that could put zombies to shame. Alex was stretching his back and grumbling dramatically about having to sleep on the lumpy pullout couch. Joan was sitting next to Randy on the sofa, holding one of his hands in her lap as she played absently with his fingers. Beside them, Dawn was propped up against the couch sitting cross-legged on the carpet, sipping gingerly at her steaming cup of tea. Willow and Tara were curled up together on the recliner with Hex purring away contently in Tara’s skirts – the kitten completely oblivious to the wrought up atmosphere of the room. Lucky cat.
It was then that Rupert and Anya filled the group in on their speculation from last night as to the bomb maker’s identity, or identities as it were. Joan was surprised when they suggested the three guys who had broken into the house could potentially be the cause of all the misery lately. However, she admitted it was at least worth looking into. It wasn’t like they had any other leads to go off of.
Joan frowned as she recalled how Jonathan, Warren, and Andrew had attended Katrina’s memorial. It seemed to put a bit of a damper on Rupert and Anya’s theory. If they were indeed correct, it would mean the trio would be responsible for covering up – and thus likely committing – Katrina’s murder. However, Katrina’s mom had told her Warren had been dating her daughter. Well, no, that wasn’t exactly true. She had said Warren was an ex. Maybe it ended badly? People had been murdered for less.
“So how do we find these guys?” Joan asked when they had finished speaking. “I mean, we don’t even know their last names.”
Rupert nodded. “Yes, it is a bit of a setback. We may simply have to keep an eye out for them and remain vigilant in the meantime.”
Joan frowned at that. She wasn’t a particularly patient person, and she wanted whoever was responsible for killing Katrina and framing Randy found now. “Katrina’s mom knew Warren,” Joan said. “She said he was an ex-boyfriend. She could probably tell us.”
“I’m not sure it’s wise to go asking a bereaved mother about her murdered daughter’s former relationship, Joan.” Rupert shifted a bit on his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.
Joan had to admit, it wasn’t something she would look forward to doing. Ms. Sibler might get upset at that kind of question, especially coming from the woman who found her daughter’s body. “Okay, well, what about my original plan? Anya, did you ever find out how to summon Halfrek?”
Anya worried her bottom lip and glanced over to Rupert, then slowly replied, “I did. Typically, vengeance demons aren’t summoned; they’re drawn to people’s desire for retribution.” She sighed, the gesture fraught with resignation. “But, you can summon one. You just need a few ingredients, the demon’s name, and, of course, a little blood.”
“Well that’s great!” exclaimed Willow. “Let’s get started!” Her outburst startled Hex, whose dark eyes were now wide with concern.
“There’s just one problem,” Anya replied, putting a damper on the redhead’s enthusiasm. “One of the ingredients we need is nightshade. I don’t keep it on hand at the shop for obvious reasons, so we’ll need to special order it.”
Joan slumped back into the couch with a huff. Great, more waiting. “How long will it take?” she asked.
Anya shrugged. “With our usual supplier? Probably two or three days.”
“Alright, Anya, you order the nightshade. Randy and I will do some asking around, see if anyone knows anything about these guys,” Joan said.
“We can help out with anything you need for, um, the spell,” Tara added.
“Then it seems we have a plan.” Rupert pressed his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose and gave a firm nod. “Until we determine the culprits, Alex, I think it best you remain at the house. Why don’t you go pick up some things from your apartment? I can accompany you.”
“Aw really?” Alex whined. “I don’t know if I can handle three days on that thing you call a mattress.”
“Why don’t you just sleep on the couch then?” Dawn suggested reasonably.
“That… is actually not a bad idea,” Alex conceded.
Plan made, Rupert and Alex left for Alex’s apartment, while the other members of the house did their best to go about their day as usual. For the most part, they managed quite well. Willow and Tara went to work in their lab, trying to work out a simple protection spell for the house. Anya left for the Magic Box with Rupert and Alex when they returned, planning to try to clean up the scorch marks that had been left on the floor. Dawn, Randy, and Joan decided to have a lazy day and watch TV. Randy must have been more exhausted than he’d been letting on, because he fell asleep a half hour in to Passions. They didn’t wake him.
As sunset drew closer, Joan began to get antsy. She wanted to get out there and start searching for the white van and the potential suspects as soon as possible. She wanted to put this entire situation behind her, and she couldn’t truly do that until they caught the perpetrators. However, she had also promised Randy that they would look into the reasoning behind his inability to harm humans. She figured they could do both at once.
Joan didn’t normally investigate things; she wasn’t a detective. Usually, the bad guys just kind of came to her or she stumbled across them, often while they were in the middle of committing some crime. As such, she’d never had much reason to interrogate the local demon population. That didn’t mean she hadn’t overheard a thing or two on her patrols. Which was how she knew there were a couple demon bars somewhere in town, probably ripe with gossip. Maybe someone there would know something about these witchy people who were after them. Or maybe they’d know something about Randy’s shock issues.
Of course, there was the small problem of not knowing where these demon bars were, but Joan figured they couldn’t possibly be that hard to find. She’d just politely ask the first demon she saw where she could find such a place.
Yeah. That would work.
Chapter 11: Playing Detective
Notes:
Previously…
While the Scoobies are now convinced that Randy did not kill Katrina, the shocks Randy receives if he tries to harm a “normal” human remain a mystery. Joan and Randy are now on the hunt for the Trio – who are suspected for planting the explosives in the Magic Box and killing Katrina – and answers to Randy’s head zaps. Meanwhile Anya works on contacting Halfrek.
Now…
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It didn’t take long for Joan and Randy to locate a demon bar. Joan wasn’t surprised. She had found that a stake could be very persuasive to those of the dust adverse variety. She had tried playing good cop, bad cop with Randy, but he didn’t make a very good cop. So it ended up being more bad cop, bad cop, which seemed just as effective but put a damper on her fun sleuthing expectations. Plus, finding a demon to point them toward a bar was not nearly as difficult as one might initially think.
Regardless, the place was nothing like she expected.
For one, if it weren’t for the slimy, scaly, or otherwise demony patrons, she never would have pegged it for anything other than your typical, dilapidated dive bar a little off the beaten path.
For another, the mousy bartender seemed to immediately recognize her and proclaimed very loudly, “Hey, it’s the Slayer! Wow, I’ve really missed you kid. Where’ve you been?”
Joan had a feeling the announcement was quite deliberate. A suspicion that was confirmed as a handful of demons stood and rapidly exited the establishment a moment later. Joan’s eyes narrowed in on the man who had set the glass he was polishing aside and now had his palms flat on the counter, leaning slightly toward her. His dark hair was slicked back and a smile was plastered on his face that seemed to be something of a permanent fixture.
“So, can I get you a drink?” the bartender asked, keeping his voice light.
Joan approached the counter with Randy trailing behind, ignoring the few demons who passed them for the exit. “We’re looking for some guys. Human guys. Warren, Jonathan, and Andrew. You know ‘em?”
The man shrugged, eyes darting around the room. “I know a lot of people. Names don’t ring a bell.”
Joan smiled without warmth. “Well, you clearly think you know me.” She grabbed him by the collar and he gulped. “So, if I were you, I’d think a little harder.”
“He’s human, Joan,” Randy said quietly from behind her.
Joan blinked, taken aback. She certainly hadn’t expected a demon bar to have a human bartender who hadn’t been made into a midnight snack.
“‘Course I’m human!” the man sputtered as Joan released him. “Gee, Slayer, I’d heard you lost your marbles, but you don’t remember me?” He gestured to himself. “It’s Willie!”
Joan shrugged helplessly. “Sorry?”
Willie straightened out his shirt with a scowl. “Look, I don’t know anything about any Warren or whoever. If they ain’t demons, I got nothing for you. God’s honest truth. Only humans crazy enough to come by here are you and your pals.”
Joan hated to admit that this Willie guy made sense. Even if Warren, Jonathan, and Andrew were murderers, they still weren’t demons. They’d probably be eaten alive here. Literally.
Joan sighed and turned to Randy who only shrugged. “Know any place we might find information on the wankers?” Randy asked after a brief pause.
Willie scratched his head, frowning slightly. “I’d check down by the docks. Underground is more, uh, lively over there.”
Joan nodded, but before she turned to leave she asked, “Oh, uh, do you happen to know any witches or anyone in town who might be able to, well, make it so a vampire can’t hurt a human?”
Willie blinked at her, dumbfounded, as his eyes shifted over to Randy. “What? You mean like, what’s wrong with Spike?”
Her brows knitted together. “What do spikes have to do with it?”
Willie shook his head. “Uh, nothin’. Nevermind.” He leaned forward on the counter conspiratorially, suddenly all-too-eager to speak. “So, uh, there were these soldiers, a couple years back, did some experiments.”
“What kind of experiments?” Joan was uneasy now.
Willie’s eyes widened as he looked down and gestured with his hands. “Freaky stuff, like futuristic sci-fi stuff, if you know what I’m sayin’.”
“No, I don’t think we do,” Randy replied flatly.
Willie tapped his temple with his pointer finger and twisted his wrist. “They were capturing demons and digging around in their guts. You had demons getting dissected, vamps getting shock collars implanted in their skulls, all kinds of weird. Had the demon world real freaked for a while there.”
“So,” Joan said slowly, “you’re saying that these soldiers put something into Randy’s brain that shocks him if he tries to hurt humans?”
Willie shrugged again, pushing off the counter. “Hey, that’s just what I heard. But, yeah, they got your boy too, far as I know.”
Joan brightened as she turned to Randy. “So it’s not because you don’t have a soul! They probably just saw a vampire and assumed, you know, grr.” Joan made air claws before smiling sheepishly.
Willie waved his hands up in the air. “Now I don’t know nothin’ about all that. I’m not omniscient here.”
Randy frowned, looking down at the ground. “Right then. Well. I suppose that’s reassuring.”
Joan certainly thought it was better than the alternative, but Randy still seemed somewhat down about it. She nodded to Willie before leading Randy back outside where they walked together quietly in the direction of the docks. Detective Joan still had another mission that required their attention, though Randy’s contemplative demeanor was throwing her off again.
After a couple minutes, Joan asked, “What’s on your mind?”
He shook his head. “Dunno. Suppose it is a bit of a relief.” He paused, scowling slightly. “Can’t say I much appreciate being used as a lab rat though.”
Joan winced, partly glad he couldn’t actually remember what they must have done to him. “I’m sorry, maybe your dad will be able to figure out how to get rid of it. Or maybe Willow and Tara could do a spell.”
He pursed his lips. “Not sure I want those two birds giving me a magical lobotomy.”
Joan couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “Yeah, maybe we’ll hold off on that. At least it only hurts if you, you know, hurt a human.”
He shrugged. “I suppose.”
Joan had a feeling he was more upset than he was letting on, but she didn’t press him. He probably just needed some time to come to terms with the situation. She hoped Rupert and Anya would have some ideas for what to do about whatever had been implanted in Randy’s head when they got back to the house. She could understand how having something put inside your head that you hadn’t wanted there would be disconcerting, at the very least.
***
Randy and Joan checked down by the docks next. However, there was no sign of Warren, Jonathan, or Andrew. Like at the demon bar, no one had ever heard of any of them. Not that they ran into very many people they could actually ask. The docks were dead, no pun intended. Joan supposed even the criminals knew not to linger too long after dark in Sunnydale.
They returned to the house to find everyone else was already asleep, and Joan decided not to bother Rupert and Anya with their findings until the morning. Randy made no protest.
When they returned to their room in the basement she kissed him and he let her, and it was almost like it had been before Katrina Sibler was murdered.
***
Rupert had responded to the news about the origins of Randy’s… impairment first with shock and then outrage. There was also a small measure of relief that he vowed never to voice aloud to anyone besides Anya. Ever.
Joan had looked to him for some kind of directive or solution to the issue, for which he had no answers. The same could be said for the rest of the household. Alex, of course, was convinced that the government was probably watching them all right now through Randy’s eyes.
A more ridiculous notion, Rupert could not fathom.
Anya, Willow, and Tara had all thought that a spell might be able to correct the situation; however, Randy was adamant that no magic be used on his head. Rupert was quietly of the same mind. While he did not doubt his wife’s and the two witches’ abilities, so to speak, he was also acutely aware that all of them were working off of roughly five months of real experience. For now, he elected further research to be the only logical step at this point in time, an announcement that had earned him a collective groan.
Of course, he would be the one doing the majority of said research, so he really didn’t know why they all insisted on complaining.
“Well, what if they put stuff in all our brains,” Willow postulated. “Maybe that could explain the whole amnesia thing.”
“But you can still hurt humans, Wills,” Alex countered.
“Yeah, but I’m not a vampire! Maybe our things are different than Randy’s… thing.”
“I’d say there’s a good possibility,” Randy said dryly, though there was humor in his eyes now.
Rupert sighed, though he had to admit he was pleased that most of the tension from the past few days had finally dissipated. He had announced that the nightshade Anya ordered for the summoning spell would arrive the day after tomorrow, and they were hopefully close to discovering the true culprits of Katrina’s murder.
“It’s probably best not to speculate,” Tara said, fingering the stone around her neck absent-mindedly. “The amnesia could’ve been due to any number of, uh, things.”
Dawn rolled her eyes, still eating her cereal at the kitchen table while the rest of them were gathered in the living room. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but they definitely didn’t put anything in my brain.”
“Oh yeah?” Alex asked dubiously. “How would you know?”
She gave her head two brief taps. “No scars. Randy might heal like a, well, a vampire. But people get scars.”
Her declaration was met with immediate head searching with Alex rapidly running his fingers through his hair to check for marks.
“Oh, I think I feel something!” Alex shouted.
Anya glanced over at his head where he had the hair parted and raised an eyebrow. “Alex, that’s a mole.”
“Oh.”
“I think it’s safe to say none of us have had brain surgery recently,” Rupert remarked flatly. On second glance at Alex, he added, “A shame.”
“Hey!”
Randy leaned over and whispered something into Joan’s ear that Rupert couldn’t hear before she smiled and swatted his arm.
“Well,” Rupert said, bringing everyone’s attention back to himself. “I will be heading out to open the shop, since Anya has to go discuss the rubbish bin incident with the city. Are there any other theories anyone feels the need to share with the group?”
Alex opened his mouth and Rupert held up a hand to cut him off. “Anyone besides Alex?”
Alex closed his mouth and looked down at the ground with a small pout.
When no one responded, Rupert nodded. “Wonderful.”
***
It was mid-morning when the package arrived at the Magic Box. When Rupert had first told Anya his plan last night, she had been skeptical. They had never directly lied to their friends before, not about something like this.
Rupert waited until the one browsing patron had left before quickly flipping the sign on the Magic Box to Closed . He had already gathered the other ingredients and the spell book he would need earlier that morning and had everything arranged to his liking in the basement of the shop, away from prying eyes.
The truth was, Anya’s supplier was able to arrange express delivery for the nightshade. Instead of arriving the day after tomorrow, as the others believed, it arrived today, in the box Rupert was now holding.
As he put the finishing touches on the spell, adding the nightshade to the bronze bowl setting out on the floor, he felt a shiver crawl up his spine. He knew he could have let Anya do this part. He could have asked her to perform the spell and talk to the demon who claimed to know her from her past life, and he could have dealt with the damage to the bin with the city.
But he knew Anya. Every time the spell was mentioned, his wife shrunk away as if trying to physically distance herself from even the idea of Halfrek and all that she stood for. Anya would never say so, of course. She was afraid of what he and her friends might think of her. It was disconcerting, coming from a woman who had never cared what others thought before.
And, if he were completely honest with himself, there was another reason he had elected to take on the responsibility of performing the summoning spell aside from sparing Anya the discomfort. He had a question he wanted to ask Halfrek that he would rather no one was privy to, not even Anya.
***
Tara was having a good day… even if Hex had decided to make her job as difficult as it could be. She had decided to take a dive into crystals a couple weeks ago, thinking they could incorporate them easily into the shop as charmed jewelry. She and Willow had worked with charmed jewelry before, but crystals were different. Many already had a bit of innate magic to them that made them a bit finicky to work with. And then Hex had a fondness for knocking them off the lab table, occasionally breaking the potential merchandise. The expensive , potential merchandise.
Tara sighed good-humoredly as she set the kitten aside for the sixth time, hoping to buy herself a few minutes of uninterrupted study. A few spell books lay open among the crystals as she tried to make identifications from the cuts and colors. For some, that was enough, others required further testing.
Willow sat on the opposite side of their lab table working on the same taste-altering potion they had been testing on Joan and Dawn before their attention was pulled away to Randy and the murder. The red-headed witch was focused intensely on the pages in front of her and Tara smiled as she bit the inside of her cheek in concentration.
Tara hoped she could get a handle on these crystals. Then she could gift Willow a similar necklace to the one Tara wore for their sixth month anniversary.
***
Rupert finished reciting the incantation and waited.
The basement was dark save for the flickering candlelight of the circle he stood just outside, the bowl of spell ingredients situated at its center. Rupert had expected a gust of wind, or the candles to all simultaneously blow out, maybe.
Instead, one second, nothing was there but air, and the next Halfrek stood in front of him in a brief flash of smoke.
She was in her demonic visage and she grinned brightly at him, though he didn’t find the gesture very reassuring. “You rang?” she trilled.
“Yes, I did.”
“Oh, you’re Anyanka’s husband,” Halfrek exclaimed, words dripping with false cheerfulness. “How charming. And how is Anyanka?”
“I didn’t call you to discuss Anya,” Rupert replied, his voice neutral.
She tilted her head, examining him. “Is that so? Well then, what could I possibly do for you? ”
Rupert took a breath, steeling himself. “You call yourself a justice demon. Well, I want to ask for justice.”
Her mouth widened into a predatory grin. “Ah, so you require the services of a vengeance demon?”
It was the first time she had referred to herself as such, and it unnerved him slightly. Words were powerful things, particularly for vengeance demons. The distinction mattered. “Not me,” Rupert replied. “I am seeking justice on behalf of Katrina Sibler.”
Halfrek sighed and shook her head, clearly disappointed. “Now Rupert, you know that’s not how this works. If this Katrina requires… justice, she will just have to ask me herself.”
“She’s dead.”
“Ah.” Halfrek nodded in understanding. She seemed to consider it for a moment before asking, “And what would you like me to do, exactly?”
“I wish to know how to find the young men who killed her: Warren, Jonathan, and Andrew.”
Halfrek smirked at the word “wish,” but did not respond immediately, waiting for the unease to fester inside Rupert.
“You know, I usually kill the humans who summon me. They rarely understand how our contracts work and, worse, they annoy me,” she mused, almost to herself. Rupert tensed. Then, suddenly, she perked up and flippantly replied, “Very well. I will do you this favor, for Anyanka. Consider it a wedding gift. You’re welcome.”
She moved her hands up to snap herself away again and Rupert practically lunged forward as he yelped, “Wait!”
Halfrek paused, hands still raised, and lifted a brow in silent inquiry.
“There was, one more thing,” Rupert mumbled quietly.
She gestured with one hand for him to continue, eyes never leaving his. He couldn’t help but feel she wished for him to make some fatal error that would be his undoing. What that could possibly be, he couldn’t even hope to guess. The calculating apathy behind her eyes was unsettling to an unnatural degree.
“Does my–” He struggled to get the question out, words twisting in his mouth. “Does Randy have a soul?”
She blinked rapidly in surprise; it seemed he had actually managed to catch the vengeance demon off guard.
“Wil– The vampire?” she asked incredulously before bursting into laughter. “Of course he doesn’t!”
Rupert’s face had gone white but she paid it no mind.
As her laughter died down, she shook her head and smiled at him. “I like you, Rupert. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it looks like the ‘Patron Saint of Scorned Women’ finally found a decent one. See you soon.”
With one final chuckle, Halfrek disappeared in a white puff of smoke.
Notes:
It's been a little while, but I hopefully should have more time to write now so I hope to get more out on this one quicker! Thank you to everyone still reading!
Chapter 12: False Sense of What Now?
Notes:
Wow I can't believe it's already been a year since I started this story!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
In the last couple days, things at the house had more or less returned to normal. Their leads on Warren, Andrew, and Jonathan were nonexistent, most of their hopes now resting on summoning Halfrek or a sudden reappearance of Joan’s white van.
The nightshade delivery had experienced an unexpected delay, and now wasn’t set to arrive until Thursday, much to Joan’s irritation. Supply chain difficulties due to a rapid Fyarl attack. Who would have thunk it?
Why did summoning a demon have to be so difficult? Wouldn’t their jobs of spreading evil be so much more efficient if they just came when someone shouted their name?
Joan huffed and buried her head in her arms on the table next to Tara, who was busy fitting one of her crystals with a metal cage and hook for a necklace. Randy had already gone to work at the Bronze for the night, and Willow had gone with Alex on a snack run. They were dangerously short on chips and other unhealthy munchies.
“Are you sure you still want to go monster hunting tonight?” Tara asked. “You look tired.”
Joan rolled her head towards the blonde witch. “Gee, just what every girl wants to hear.”
Tara winced as she accidentally stabbed her thumb with one of the metal wires. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, you and Randy have been out all night the last couple days.”
It was true. They had been out longer than usual the last couple nights, and it was starting to catch up with her. Just a little . She had also taken to doing some sleuthing during the daylight hours, something Randy wasn’t able to assist with, and it meant that her sleep had taken a serious hit.
“It’ll be a short night,” Joan finally conceded. “Rupert said the nightshade should be here tomorrow, and then we can deal with our murdery friends .”
Tara nodded, but before she could respond, the door was thrown open and Rupert and Dawn entered the house, Dawn still wearing her practice gear from volleyball that night. Anya followed in after them carrying a large box in her arms.
“Hey Tara, hey Joan,” Dawn greeted. She then turned to Joan as she leaned back against the counter, drumming her fingers on the top. “Can I go to Anya’s hex class tonight?”
Joan blinked dumbly up at her. “Huh?”
Dawn rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “Anya’s hex class. Tonight at the Magic Box. Can I go?”
Well gee, she didn’t have to get snarky about it. It wasn’t Joan’s fault word comprehension was difficult when running on three hours of sleep.
“Uh,” Joan struggled for a response. Since when was Dawn interested in hexes, anyway? Why was Dawn suddenly interested in hexes? “Did you ask Anya?”
“Yeah, she said it was cool.”
Joan raised a questioning brow at Anya. In general, Joan trusted Anya, she did. But she was also hesitant where magic and her sister were concerned. Besides, Anya’s hex classes always seemed more adult-oriented.
“I think it would be good for Dawn to learn about magic,” Anya stated, setting her box aside. “Sometimes, you just need a good curse.” When this attracted some skeptical looks, she added, “For completely safe and innocuous purposes, of course.”
“Anya–”
“Dawn will be fine, Joan,” Rupert said absently. “Anya’s classes are perfectly safe. We’ve developed them for beginner basics, and nothing of any real danger.”
“Well, okay,” Joan said, unable to completely banish the trepidation from her voice.
Dawn instantly broke into a wide smile and moved to crush her sister in a quick hug. “Thanks Joan!”
Joan was nearly knocked off her stool at the unexpected show of affection, and Dawn pulled back just as quickly, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation. Oh yeah, this was definitely a bad idea.
Tara had turned her attention from her charms to the box Anya had set on the counter. She picked out a few scrolls and held them up to Anya. “What are all these for?”
Anya plucked the scrolls from her grip and returned them to the box. “We’re practicing transmogrification tonight.”
“Oh!” Tara exclaimed, blinking quickly. She looked over at her own pile of crystals with a small frown. “Wow. That’s… advanced.”
Anya waved her off. “Oh, nothing major. Just some small inanimate objects.”
Joan raised her hand to get Anya’s attention. “Uh, what's tranmorgi- whatever you said?”
“We’re gonna turn rocks into gold,” Dawn answered excitedly.
Anya’s eyes widened as she glared at the girl. “ That was supposed to be our secret.”
Dawn shrugged apologetically. Though the gesture didn’t seem to hold much sincerity.
Rupert checked his watch before picking up Anya’s box and saying, “We had best be going. Otherwise we’ll be late.”
Anya nodded in agreement, gesturing for both Rupert and Dawn to exit the house just as abruptly as they came. It seemed to be the way of things lately, Rupert and Anya had been insanely busy that week with the shop. They were constantly rushing here or there, always in some transition when Joan managed to spot them.
Joan returned her head to the cool countertop when they were gone, and Tara went back to her necklace fastening, leaving the house blessedly quiet again. Nothing could be heard aside from the ticking of the kitchen clock and the soft tapping of metal against the counter as Tara worked. Joan had almost fallen asleep when their peaceful coexistence was disturbed once more, this time by the arrival of Alex and Willow.
“You just missed Rupert and the gang,” Tara told Willow.
Willow dumped an armful of plastic bags onto the counter before sidling up to Tara and glancing over at her work. “More snacks for us then,” Willow said, resting her chin on Tara’s shoulder.
“Oh, you wanted us to get snacks for you guys too?” Alex asked, encircling the bags protectively with his arms and pulling them closer to himself. “You should’ve said. These are property of Alexander Harris.”
Tara shook her head. “That’s too bad. I was going to make brownies for whoever brought snacks.”
Alex slowly pushed the bags back toward the center of the counter. “You know me, sharing is my middle name!”
***
Joan hung out with Willow, Alex, and Tara until the end of Randy’s shift, then she made her way toward the Bronze to begin patrol.
Randy was already waiting outside under the now-dark neon sign when she arrived. She was surprised to note he had already changed out of his uniform and wondered if the Bronze had closed early. Or, she thought guilty, she was later than she thought on account of that – very brief! – counter nap where she definitely did not drool.
Randy grinned at her and offered an arm, which she accepted with a good-humored eye roll. They walked off arm-in-arm through the alleyways in a familiar route, falling seamlessly into step.
“So,” he began. The sly smirk on his face instantly put Joan on her guard. “I asked Rupert if he might be persuaded to let us start up your driving lessons again.”
Joan’s eyes widened comically as she hissed, “Why would you do that?!”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I thought it might help us track down the van. Worked last time, didn’t it?”
“Well I don’t see why I’d have to be the one driving,” she whined, elbowing him in the ribs and earning a grunt. “And besides, Rupert wouldn’t let me within a hundred yards of his car after last time.”
Randy’s answering grin was anything but reassuring. “I think you’ll find Rupes can be very forgiving of his favorite son.”
She scoffed. “You’re his only son.”
“So I’m the favorite by default,” he answered, unperturbed. “I asked him the other night. He didn’t even give me a hard time.”
“Does that mean you’ll be signing up for another accounting class?” Joan teased just as they reached the first cemetery on their list.
A snort. “No.”
Joan stopped, bringing them both to a halt just inside the iron fence, and raised an incredulous eyebrow. “What, no lecture at all? No ‘you break it, you buy it’ threats?”
He shook his head with a lopsided smile before slowly saying, “No… Think he was a bit preoccupied. I caught him in the study. You know how he gets.”
“Just when you think you can depend on a guy,” Joan replied with an exaggerated sigh.
Pulling her towards him with a slight pout, he said, “You’ll just have to depend on my excellent instructions.”
“What instructions?” she rejoined, staring up at him pointedly. “I don’t remember any instructions.”
He huffed, casting his gaze to the sky. “They were a bit on the unspoken side.”
“I’m not a mind reader.”
Releasing her, he turned back toward the rows of silent gravestones and they continued their rounds. “No, I suppose not.”
Joan felt his hesitation more than heard it before he continued, “Rupert did seem a bit out of sorts when I asked about the car. Jumpy. Don’t suppose he’s still thinkin’ I killed that girl?”
Joan frowned. “No. Randy, you couldn’t have killed Katrina even if you wanted to.” At his look, she hastily added, “Which I know you wouldn’t! Want to. We know that. He’s probably just worried about these guys. I mean, they might have broken into our house and they tried to make us go all kablooey. He’s got reasons to be jumpy.” She held up her hands, fighting back a small smirk. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but not everything’s about you. Ego, much?”
Randy gaped at her for a moment before breaking out into loud laughter that would either attract or scare away their intended targets for the night. “Right you are, love.” The laughter faded, and he grew more serious. “But not about everything.”
Her brows furrowed together. “What do you mean?”
He sighed and his voice grew strained. “I didn’t want to kill Katrina. I never met her.” He paused, his eyes still fixed to the ground as they walked. “But I can’t honestly say I’ve never wanted to.” Now he looked at her. “Because I have, Joan.” They had stopped walking and he was watching her reaction carefully. “I just thought you should know that.”
She pursed her lips, suddenly at a bit of a loss for words. “But, you said you didn’t want to bite me.”
He groaned, running a hand down his face before taking a few paces away and then back. “I didn’t! I don’t. Not… You and the rest, the people we woke up with in the Magic Box, I’ve never wanted to– Not them. It’s hard to explain.”
No, it was more than hard to explain. It was impossible to explain. To her. Something he’d much rather not explain. Not that he would ever act on it, of course. He wouldn’t do anything to risk what he had, but that didn’t mean the feeling wasn’t there, lurking just beneath the surface when he least expected it.
“Randy, you’re a vampire, it makes sense.” She took a deep breath to steady her voice. “It doesn’t matter.” When he still looked unconvinced, she added, “It doesn’t. All that matters, is what you do.” They were standing, separated by more than five feet, and yet the moment still managed to feel almost uncomfortably intimate. “And I’ve never seen you do anything that comes close to evil.” Her small smirk returned. “Although you do hog the covers.”
While Joan wasn’t entirely sure what his reaction would be, she definitely hadn’t anticipated wide-eyed alarm.
“Buffy, look out!” Randy warned.
She jumped out of the way just as a sword came slicing down into the grass where she had been standing. Whirling around, she came face to face with a towering red demon with a grisly set of horns protruding from its skull.
“Oh great,” Joan huffed.
***
Anya joined Rupert in the Magic Box’s basement just as he was beginning to rummage through the box of scrolls she had acquired earlier that day. She knew she had to be upstairs for her class in five minutes – she had barely managed to get a moment away from Dawn – but she needed to speak with Rupert before he got too far down one of his, she shuddered, rabbit holes .
“Rupert, are you sure about this?” she asked him.
“Yes,” he grunted back, not turning to look at her.
“I just don’t want something to go wrong–”
“Nothing will go wrong,” he cut her off.
“Rupert, look at me.”
When he didn’t respond, she repeated, “Rupert.”
This time he looked up, his brow creased in something like frustration. “What is it?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t want you to do something you might regret. I think we should talk to–”
“No!” he snapped before instantly taking on a guilty expression. “No.”
Anya pursed her lips, debating her next words. She had never seen Rupert quite like this, but it had been an especially trying last couple weeks.
“Then let me help you,” she said finally. When he brightened, she held up a finger, “ After class.”
***
Roughly half an hour later, Joan and Randy were busy brushing the dirt off their clothes and sporting some new cuts and bruises. On the bright side, Joan got a nice new sword out of the deal, and there had been no need for demon body clean-up. She really loved when the demons just went poof .
“What say we call it a night, pet?” Randy asked. “Get some sleep. Should be busy tomorrow, if Rupes and Anya can convince Alex’s ex to spill.”
Joan agreed easily enough, but they took the long way back to the house, catching a few newly-risen vamps in the process.
However, when they reached the house, instead of heading to the front door as she’d expected, Randy took her hand and tugged her away, bypassing the house entirely and emerging in the backyard.
Joan couldn’t help but be a little shocked. Sitting in the middle of their yard was one of Tara’s quilts covered with a few tupperware containers and some of the snacks Alex and Willow had brought home earlier along with a bottle of wine and an accompanying liter of coke. Joan tried hard not to laugh, but the noise slipped out before she could stop herself. It was the weirdest, thrown-together picnic she’d ever seen.
However, when she checked to see if she’d offended Randy, he was smiling warmly back at her. “I asked the witches to throw something together. I think they took my advice literally. Still, they say it’s the thought that counts.”
Joan flopped down on the quilt, pulling Randy down with her and tossing the sword aside. He landed with one hand on either side of her hips slightly draped across her torso, his face an easy distance from her own.
“You called me Buffy tonight,” she said after a moment.
He seemed surprised by the statement. “I did?”
She nodded.
“Huh. Must’ve been a reflex.”
She’d like to think so.
“So, what’ll it be?” He shifted away from her, reaching to hold up the two very different bottles. “Wine or, uh, carbonated sugar?”
“One sugar-rush, please,” she replied.
He glanced around for cups, but found none. Shrugging, he twisted off the cap and handed her the entire bottle.
Holding back another snort, she took a gulp straight from the container like she was a kid again. Randy opened the wine and followed suit, and this time she did laugh.
“I’m sorry!” he chuckled ruefully. “Next time, I swear I’ll take you on a real date.”
She smothered her laughter, but her smile remained. “No, it’s perfect.”
He smiled back, and she leaned over to kiss him. It was brief, but not lacking in feeling, and when she pulled away she found his intense stare still locked on her.
“You know I love you,” he told her. “More than anything.”
Instead of responding in words, she kissed him again, deeper this time, everything from the past couple weeks melting away as if it had never happened. Right now, they were just Randy and Joan, just as they’d always been.
“Feels like I’ve loved you forever,” he breathed when she pulled away.
“Well, if by forever you mean the only five months you remember, then you have,” she teased.
His arms tightened around her waist and he swung her harmlessly down to the blanket, one arm resting across her chest as he leaned over her. “Not quite the same,” he replied softly.
“Isn’t it?”
He shook his head, but said no more.
Joan heard the sliding door to the house open and she turned away from Randy’s blue gaze to see Willow standing in the doorway, fidgeting with her hands.
“Uh, guys, we have a bit of an emergency,” Willow said.
Notes:
Some of you are probably wondering when Riley will show up. He will... eventually.
ms_josephine on Chapter 2 Tue 22 Aug 2023 04:38AM UTC
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Last Edited Thu 07 Jul 2022 03:38AM UTC
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