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Sunnydale Public Cemetery:
When the black-cloaked shape moved, it did so in an unexpected way: with a muffled yelp, the figure hiked up the folds of its robes and ran away. Buffyīs startled eyes picked up the flashing of slender legs in jeans.
'Hey!' she yelled, and gave chase. Her Slayer strength and agility enabled her to catch up to the running figure much faster than any normal human could have done, and the prey knew it.
In another surprising motion, the figure halted, turned around staggeringly to face her, then pointed a finger dripping something black and smelly. A shrill, near-familiar voice screeched: 'Vengeance shall befall the foul! Vengeance shall befall the foul! Vengeance shall befall...'
The Slayer ducked when her every instinct suddenly screamed at her. Something, something unseen yet frighteningly present, streaked right over her hair and struck an ornamental bush grown wild.
With a shuddering sigh, the branches and leaves started to gleam and shudder, dripping sap and withering in a matter of seconds. Buffy looked up, right into the pitch blackness that suffused the hood - and the realigned, still dripping finger.
A quick roll put her behind a tombstone, where she pulled a stake from her jacket. If the enemy wanted to get another shot at her, heīd have to edge around the stone. And if he came around the stone, heīd get a goodly few inches of wood through the heart. Or whatever it was that he had.
The sound of running footsteps. Damn! Heīd surprised her again!
She popped up, ready to run after the robed weirdo again... and saw a blackrobed shape, standing right in front of the stone.
'Yikes,' was the only thing she could think of saying. Brutally cold, blue eyes glowerd at her from within the hood, then seemed to elongate slightly, as if the unseen face around them were smiling.
The Slayer edged back slightly, the stake ready at a low angle to shoot up and burst between ribs, piercing the heart. The black-robed shape flowed backwards, hands in gauntlets rising up to block an attack.
'So,' Buffy stated, 'youīre the Execution-guy.'
'And you are the Slayer,' a cold, bone-grating voice replied. She almost started, then recovered.
'So,' she said, 'how do you like Sunnydale? Found some nice people to whack yet?'
'Your disrespect is typical,' the cold voice noted, with a note of derision. 'I find it is a common flaw in Slayers.'
'Met a few, killed a lot, huh? I hear that so often, itīs old,' Buffy said, starting to circle her opponent. He shuffled around to keep her in plain sight, but made no move to attack.
'I have met more than a hundred Slayers,' the cold voice calmly stated, 'and killed most. You may prove to be the exception, if you refrain from aggression.'
'And that just now?' Buffy snapped. 'Iīm not the one starting the aggression here, boyo! You talk the talk, but when it comes to the walk, youīre skipping.'
'I havenīt before met a Slayer that chose to babbled nonsense,' the Executioner declared. 'This may be a refreshing change from the usual, `I will free the world of thee, evil fiend.ī We shall meet again.'
Without warning, the Executioner leapt up and back, flipping over once and landing on top of a tomb stone. Another powerful leap carried the robed figure over Buffyīs head, and over the bushes behind her. By the time sheīd rushed around them, stake held ready, the Executioner was nowhere to be seen...
Sunnydale High Library, 10 a.m.:
'I donīt believe that you could be so, so irresponsible!' Giles snapped as he paced back and forth on the Library floor. His footsteps drummed out a steady rhythm.
'To go up against, against the Executioner, after Iīd told you what heīs done to Slayers in the past, and then to, to just lose him, somehow!'
'Thank you, Giles, Iīm fine,' Buffy said mockingly. 'I had to check him out, didnīt I? I mean, itīs my calling and everything to rid the world of demons and what have you? So I had to make an early check. And I learned some stuff.'
'What?' the exasperated Watcher asked, sitting down across the table, his arms folded in a huff. 'What could you possibly have learned thatīs of any importance?'
'One, heīs nuts,' Buffy said. 'One moment heīs trying to turn me into a withered stump, and screaming like a scared g... baby, the next heīs Mr. Confidence, and doing Olympic class jumps. Two, heīs not here for me.'
'What gave you that impression?' Giles asked, interest and surprise eating away at justified anger.
'He said that he wouldnīt waste me,' Buffy sighed, 'if I didnīt get aggressive on him. I got the impression that none of the other Slayers heīd met ever took the offer. And I sure ainīt gonna stand by while he cuts off peopleīs heads.'
'No, of course not,' Giles agreed. 'Um, anything else?'
'Yeah, he seems to think that I gibberish,' the Slayer declared, frowning slightly to inspire Giles to refraining from comment on that.
'Ah, hm, indeed,' the Watcher coughed politely. 'But, er, anything other than that? Not that itīs not, indeed, a valuable piece of information.'
'Like I said, he jumps like heīd been in the Olympics,' Buffy said. 'And whaddaya mean, itīs valuable information that this sword-guy doesnīt think I talk right?'
'It means that heīs not been here long,' Giles replied. 'If he had been, conceivably he would have picked up on the local, er, slang by now. He hasnīt, so he hasnīt. Been here long, I mean.'
'You mean, he might be in from a different state? Or a different country?' the Slayer sweetly offered.
Giles fell for it. 'Exactly. We should definitely look in on anyone who has just... er... oh. Youīre still thinking about Cassiel Lack, arenīt you?'
'What Iīm wondering about, is why arenīt you?' Buffy snapped. 'His house - a rundown rental with a grand total of four rooms - is right on the edge of the Public Cemetay. If thereīs a top ten of places with bad vibes in Sunnydale, then the PC runs a close second to the Hellmouth.
'Two, heīs from out of town, and heīs already shown to have some skills that are, like, not common skills. Not for normal people. And third, I saw the Executioner on the PC, so there. Open and shut case.'
'Why would a being as powerful and homicidal as the Executioner pose as a schoolboy?' Giles sighed. 'How could it consume my potion and stand the holiness of a church?'
'Did Xander mention to you that he was spitting up blood in a bush?' Buffy asked, leaning across the table to emphasize her point. 'He may just have had, a, a delayed reaction!'
'Heīd need a concrete stomach to have a delayed reaction to some of the things that went into that potion, Buffy,' was Gilesī reply. 'No supernatural being of evil power could have consumed the potion and not had an immediate and violent response.'
'Fine,' the Slayer said. 'So I go back tonight, and I grab him. When heīs grabbed, I drag him back here and we can all see that heīs really Cassiel...'
The Library doors swung open, and Cassiel Lack came walking in.
'...Lack,' Buffy finished, looking at the new entry with undisguised mistrust.
'Thatīs the name that is on my entry form,' Cassiel replied, the meres shadow of a smile touching his mouth. 'And what may I do for you, Miss Summers?'
'Mind telling me why youīre here?' she returned.
'Not for you, moreīs the pity,' Cassiel coolly replied. 'Mr Giles, I believe Principal Flutie would have given you a list yesterday, with the books that I require for my classes. Are they ready for pickup?'
'Oh, er, yes,' Giles said, getting up hurriedly. 'But, er, before you go... were you anywhere near the Public Cemetery last night?'
Cassiel blinked. 'My house stands next to it, as a matter of fact,' he answered, calmly. 'I was in the area all night, except when I went out at six to get some dinner.'
'Pizza, I imagine,' the Librarian muttered as he went behind the desk to get the books.
'On the contrary, I donīt eat meat,' Cassiel said.
'You probably see too much blood and meat when youīre, like, out doing your thing, right?' Buffy asked, getting up. Her smile was less than convincing.
'Beg pardon?' Cassiel said, clearly taking offense.
'You know perfectly well what I mean, `Executioner,ī' Buffy snapped. 'You tried to waste me, and when it didnīt work you tried to make me back off! Donīt try to deny it, īcause I can see right through you.'
'I believe Iīll be back for those books later, Mr Giles,' Cassiel said, his voice becoming decidedly cold. 'I donīt believe I care for the atmosphere in here at this hour.'
With curt motions, he turned around and headed for the doors.
'Oh no, you donīt!' the Slayer exploded, and ran after him.
'Er, Buffy?' Giles called out. The sound of the doors, slamming twice, was his only reply. 'Damn,' he mutered weakly, then came from behind the counter. 'Too temperamental for her own good,' he mumbled, then walked out the Library.
Sunnydale High, Hallways, 10:20 a.m. :
'Donīt you walk away from me, you little bastard!' the Slayer growled. Cassielīs back stiffened and he turned, his eyes seeming to burn blue for just a moment. But it was only the sunlight reflecting in his glasses through a window.
With a wordless growl, he turned again and walked off. The Slayer was in hot pursuit.
'You think you can walk away from this? You canīt walk away from this! Iīm not letting you get away with whatever you want here!' she hissed at the back of his head.
'Leave me alone,' Cassiel growled without looking at her, 'or I...'
'Or you what, Brit-boy?' Buffy mocked him. 'You gonna execute me in front of the crowd, in daylight? Come on, I dare ya! Youīre sure good at cutting people down when nobody else is around, but when itīs daylight, you just ainīt got the guts.'
'Look whoīs talking, Slayer,' Cassiel hissed, audible only to her.
Sunnydale High, Hallway, 10:22, a.m. :
'Hey look, thereīs Buffy!' Willow said, and waved. 'Hi, Buffy!'
'And look whoīs with her,' was Xanderīs remark as he waved. 'Our favorite suspect of mass Slayer-murder, your favorite love-interest...'
He grunted when Willow drove her elbow a feeble half inch into his chest, then groaned as if mortally injured.
'I correct myself,' he said, 'our favorite suspect of mass Slayer-murder and all-out British newbie, Cassiel Lack. Why donīt we go see what theyīre both so angry about, huh?'
'Thatīs a definite good idea,' Willow agreed. 'Escpecially because weīre gonna be in class with Buffy next period.'
The two started to walk towards the approaching Slayer.
Sunnydale High, Hallway, 10:22 a.m. :
'I donīt have to take this kind of abuse from you,' Cassiel declared, his lips pressed together tightly.
'No shit, pshycho-boy,' Buffy snarled back. The two of them were standing practically nose to nose, and even if they whispered, it was clear that they werenīt having a nice talk.
The Masterīs Lair, 10:23 a.m. :
'Somethingīs happening,' the Master purred.
'What is it?' Darla asked, looking up at the ceiling like the Master, but unable to feel what he felt.
'Itīs almost time,' the Master moaned. 'The time of the Slayerīs demise...'
In his mindīs eye, he suddenly saw a doorway opening, and knew that something was turning, changing.
'No!'
Sunnydale High, Hallway, 10:23 a.m. :
The nearest door swung open, briefly interrupting the argument between Buffy and Cassiel as they started, then took a step back to avoid being hit by the classroom door. The sight revealed from behind it stunned Buffy momentarily.
A black-robed figure, its feet shrouded in mist, its face and body obscured by darkness, standing as if at attention... 'Vengeance shall befall the foul...'
'Vengeance shall befall the foul, vengeance shall befall the foul, vengeance shall befall the foul!' the robed figure screamed, and brought a machine gun to bear.
Before she knew what was happening, Buffy felt powerful hands grabbing her arm, picking her up, and throwing her down the hallway. She crashed into Giles, just as the brutal, stuttering noise of bullets tore the air.
A howl of pain followed, and then a horrible thump, as a body slammed into the wall and slid down until it was half lying down, half sitting up.
Cassiel. The front of his shirt was torn and spattered with blood, his face pale. His left arm hung limply by his side, the sleeve torn and stained as well, while his right hand gripped his chest, its knuckles white.
'You were trying to make me look bad,' the blackrobed figure screeched. 'You! My enemy! The foul! Vengeance shall befall the foul, by spell or by steel, but it shall befall the foul!'
The machine gun swung down, training on Cassielīs pale, dazed face.
But the blackrobed figure had made the mistake of not paying attention to the Slayer. With a savage cry, she launched herself through the air, feet-first, kicking the weapon out of the attackerīs hands and shattering his wrist in one go.
She came down hard, rolled and jumped up. The black-robed figure, howling in exaggerated agony, was already running down the hall - straight at Xander and Willow.
'Vengeance shall befall the foul!' he howled, pointing at them with his good hand, and Xander crumpled with a choked gasp, blood pouring past his lips.
Willow went down next to him, his name on her lips with worry. The other students, such as had remained, were scattering, running away to avoid contact with the whimpering murderer.
'Cas? Cassiel? Can you hear me?' Giles asked. The Watcher had crouched down beside the student and was carefully lying him down on his back, his tweed jacket folded under the boyīs head as a makeshift pillow.
'Yes,' Cassiel muttered after a few minutes. 'Summers...? Alive?'
'Iīm here,' Buffy replied, leaning over the boyīs face. He was starting to sweat a little, and his eyes spasmed shut every few seconds. 'You wait here, Iīll get help.'
Weakly, he tried to shake his head. 'Sorcerer,' he muttered. 'Vengeance... upon foul... brotherhood... evil... curse on... Harris. Kill sorcerer, or... counterspell. Necesss... sessary. If not... bleed to death... ten hours... Kill... now!'
His eyes rolled up until they showed only the whites, and then slid shut. 'Unconscious,' Giles reported after feeling his throat, 'for now. You go stop that, that bastard, and Iīll call the ambulance.'
'What about him?' Buffy asked.
'Willow can look after him - and Xander,' Giles declared. 'Iīll go get her. Now go!'
Buffy looked him in the eyes for a moment, then bolted. Giles rushed over to Willow and helped her pull Xander to his feet. 'You stay over here, with Cassiel,' he ordered, 'and Iīll phone for an ambulance.'
'Where is he?' Willow asked.
Giles turned around. Where Cassiel Lack had lain, there was now only a stain of blood and other fluids.
'Damn,' he whispered. 'Look, just you stay here, take care of Xander. Iīll be back with help.'
Sunnydale High, Hallways, 10:36 a.m. :
Buffy followed the sound of pounding feet through the halls, and the occasional agonised shriek of: 'Vengeance shall befall the foul!' He couldnīt be far ahead, but from time to time she ran into barriers.
They were invisible, and after the first collision they fractured, but they still kept her from catching up. But the guy, whoever he was, probably wasnīt thinking straight: he was headed straight for the auditorium.
Just as she was about to run through the door, she crashed into another barrier and fell on her back. She could just make out, through the tiny flashes of light appearing before her eyes, the dark-robed figure jumping on the stage and creeping off to the side. He was holding his broken wrist and moaning up a storm.
'Youīre not getting away, you creep,' she muttered, and got up again.
Sunnydale High, Backstage of Auditorium, 10:38 a.m. :
The black-robed figure scuttled towards one of the exits. Foiled! He had been stopped at the very moment of triumph! But vengeance would befall the stupid girl, too! It would befall all of them, when he was healed and strong again. They would all...
He never even noticed the loop hanging in front of the door, and when it tightened around his neck with an unexpectedly sudden jerk, he blacked out from pain. All in all, it was a merciful death.
When Buffy found him, he was fully dead, his broken neck making his head hang at an odd, disgusting angle. His hood had been torn off, and his face was fully exposed.
'Kenny?' Buffy whispered, not believing.
Sunndale Public Hospital, Next Day, 11:01 a.m. :
'Knock, knock,' said a voice at the door.
'Come in,' Cassielīs voice wheezed out. The new student was lying in a pristine white bed, surrounded by various machines that registered his recovery from the hideous wounds heīd suffered.
Buffy came in, holding a bunch of flowers. 'Hi,' she said. 'Got a vase?'
'Perhaps you would do me the pleasure of emptying that bottle of champagne, over there,' Cassiel replied, trying to smile and failing. 'Principal Flutie thought it would be appropriate since Iīm not dead. Itīs not. I donīt drink alcohol. You could put the flowers in it, though.'
'Why donīt I just put īem down here, Buffy suggested, laying the flowers on the bedstand. 'I see that Willowīs been by.' She indicated a large box of chocolates with a huge `Get well soonī-card.
'Yes, and Xander,' Cassiel said. 'He did me the pleasure of eating half the chocolates.'
'So you donīt eat fattening foods eiether?' Buffy asked. 'God, you must be... near-perfect guy, or something.'
'Had I been perfect,' was Cassielīs rather dry reply, 'I would not have been struck by those damn slugs. What of the attacker?'
'It was Kenny,' Buffy replied, reluctantly. 'Giles and I swung by his home, and his room was full of this arcane junk. Looks like he was part of some order, the Perfect Brotherhood. Anything that proves theyīre not perfect, like you pointing out he had the slides wrong, or showing him up in computer class, is like, this deadly insult.
'You were the foul, you had to go. Um. I just want to say that Iīm sorry I accused you of being, you know. Guess I had my dreams crossed, or something,' she finished. 'Can I get you anything?'
'When Iīm healed,' Cassiel replied, 'I shall be returning to school. Probably in a month or two. When I do, Iīd appreciate it if we could start out anew?'
'Sure,' Buffy agreed. 'Hey, that big nurse was saying I shouldnīt get you tired and stuff, so... why donīt I go and let you catch some Zs?'
'Zs?' he repeated. 'Ah. Yes. Thank you, if you would be so kind, I am feeling rather fatigued.'
'Sure,' she said, and started to leave. When her foot was in the doorway, she paused for a moment. 'Cas?'
'Cassiel,' he replied, sleepily. 'Yes?'
'Giles said you crawled away from where heīd left you. They found you in an empty classroom. Whyīd you do that?'
'Hide,' he replied, his tone indicating that he was talking in his sleep. 'Hide from... pain. Pursuit. Not be here... I...' His voice died away.
The Slayer left, quietly so as not to wake him again.
Cassiel Lack smiled in his sleep, and his left arm fell over the edge of the bed. In the gloom, one of the many scars started to bleed... then yielded up a single bullet which fell on the floor with a harsh clang... and closed again.