Title: The Assistant, part 70
Author: Sweetdoggie (stirling_summer@yahoo.com)
Pairing: B/G
Rating: R
Summary: Merrick didn’t die. AU
Spoilers: season 4
Disclaimer: No permission has been granted to use the characters.. They are owned by their creator, Joss Whedon, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, WB, and Mutant Enemy. This story is non-profit and is intended solely as entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended.

Glory was furious. She stomped around her penthouse apartment and wished she had killed the Slayer when she had the opportunity. “I can't believe she killed my snake!”

“She is a powerful warrior, Most Beautiful Flower of...of Benign Magnificence.”

She turned on Dreg with the speed of a leopard. “Do you think she's stronger that me?” Her voice was incredulous.

“No, no. Of course not, Mighty One. It's just that she, um, she was more powerful than a lowly serpent.”

Glory thought about that for about a tenth of a second. “I don't care! She knows where my Key is and I want it. Find out where she lives, Dreg. I want to pay her a little visit.”

Dreg was a good minion. He'd been doing this forever and he was still alive. His Goddess had not sucked his brains out, nor done any of the thousand things he'd seen her do to other, less successful, minions. When Glorificus said she wanted to know where the Slayer lived, he simply backed out of her presence to hurry the search along.

It took Dreg and five other minions all day to find the Slayer's home. He thought it strange that she lived with so many other humans as he had gathered that was not the norm for this place and time, but he simply shrugged. It didn't matter. If the Slayer refused to tell Glorificus where the Key was hidden, they would all die horribly. It was just the way of things.

The sun had set by the time Dreg got the information to his Goddess. She made him bring the car around. She could have magicked herself to the house, but arriving in a stretch limo was more stylish. Glorificus stepped out of the vehicle and studied the house. Nothing special, she sniffed. She had taken only one step forward when a yell caught her attention. Looking up, she spotted a group of perhaps fifty knights armed with swords, maces, and axes bearing down on her. She rolled her eyes. Would she never be done with this horrible dimension?

The Knights of Byzantium caught her on the sidewalk and began attacking her. She beat them back, killing when possible. Dreg was fighting on the periphery of the battle and holding his own. He was a scrappy little minion, she thought, as she ripped a Knight's arm off and beat him with it.

The Slayers and Watchers had just settled down to a nice dinner when they heard the unmistakable sounds of battle begin in their front yard. They all raced to the windows and looked out to see Glory mopping the street with a bunch of guys dressed in armor.

Giles pulled a pair of binoculars from out of the desk drawer. He focused on the knights. They had symbols tattooed on their foreheads. Symbols that meant something. He handed the binoculars to Merrick and raced back into the study. When he returned he had an open book in his hands. Wordlessly, he showed it to the senior Watcher.

“The Knights of Byzantium? What on earth are they doing in Sunnydale?”

“Looks like they're dying,” Faith said quietly.

Glory could see that this bunch of idiot humans were determined to stop her from talking to the Slayer. With a disgusted sigh, she swept Dreg up, threw him in the car and transported them back to her penthouse. This was just too much. First that bitch of a Slayer and now the Knights of Byzantium. What next, she wondered? She didn't have long to wait as she felt her body shifting. “Not now, you moron!”

It did no good to fight the change. She shared a body with a mortal and though he was growing weaker as her time of ascendancy neared, she still couldn't refuse him entirely. In seconds, a handsome young man stood in the penthouse suite. He was wearing Glory's red dress.

~*~

The three Slayers and their Watchers went out among the fallen knights looking for signs of life. Buffy finally found one that was unconscious and didn't appear to be badly damaged beyond some major bruising and a possible concussion.

“Giles! I have a live one here!” She called to her husband.

“Let's get him inside.” He could hear sirens in the distance. “The rest of you, stay out here and keep the police busy. Don't let them know we have a survivor.”

He and Buffy picked up the fallen knight and carried him carefully into the house, depositing him onto the sofa for the time being. “Fetch the medicine chest, would you, love?”

He stripped the man's chain mail off and began a thorough examination. “Three broken ribs, concussion, severe bruising, multiple cuts and lacerations...if he lives, he should be fine in a month or so.”

“I think we need to hide him in case the cops want to come in.”

“Good idea. I'll gather up his armor, if you can carry him.”

She nodded and slipped her arms behind the knight's shoulders and under his knees. “Where?”

“Put him in the spare bedroom next to Merrick and Joyce's room. We can move him later if there's a need.”

Buffy carried the man carefully, mindful of his ribs. The room was a small one, more suitable for one of the children, but it would do for now. She covered him and went back to help Giles clean up the blood from the man's injuries. That disposed of, they went outside to see what was going on with the police.

Faith was doing her big-eyed innocent act. “We were just sitting down to supper when we heard this banging and yelling and stuff,” she told the officer interviewing her. “These guys were fighting somebody...I couldn't see who. We didn't leave the house till the other people left.”

“You didn't think to call the police?”

She shrugged. “It didn't occur to me. I was just so...surprised to see guys in armor, you know?”

Wesley came up to her and put his arm over her shoulders. “Are you all right, Faith?”

She nodded. “Just shocked.”

The cop studied them. “Sir? Did you happen to see who these guys were fighting?”

“No, not really. It's dark and we were in a very well lit house—my eyes couldn't adjust to the differences fast enough.”

Merrick came up behind them and put his hand on Wesley's shoulder. “I thought they were historical gamers or perhaps filming some sort of movie...it didn't occur to me that this was a real battle.”

“I suppose you didn't see anything either?” The officer questioned.

“I didn't have my glasses on. Blind as a bat without them.”

The policeman nodded. He looked next at Anna and Joyce. “What did you see, ma'am?”

“Well, I was standing behind all the men...I really couldn't see anything.”

“Uh huh.” He made a note on the pad he was holding. “And the little girl?”

Anna used this as her cue to begin crying. Joyce gathered her up in her arms and shot the policeman a dirty look. “Really, officer...my daughter didn't see anything and your questions are upsetting her.”

Bob Johnson had been a cop for twenty-six years, the last thirteen in Sunnydale. He knew that these people were lying to him, but he also knew that if you wanted to make it to thirty years of service, you just dropped some topics. He already understood that this case would never be solved. These dead men would be buried in the pauper's field part of Restview cemetery and the paperwork they generated would be buried almost as deep. In a month, nobody would even remember this even had happened. He snapped his notebook closed. “Thank you for your cooperation. We may have more questions later.”

“My family is entirely at the disposal of the Sunnydale police force, officer,” Merrick said, trying for a bit of dignity. “Come, children. Back inside and let the police do their work.”

It took an hour for all the bodies to be bagged and placed in vans. Nobody so much as looked out the window.

Faith asked Buffy what had happened to the knight they had recued.

“He's in the back room. Somebody should sit with him in case he needs help or tries to make a break for it,” Buffy said slowly, thinking things through. “This guy is our only source of information about Glory. We need to keep a close eye on him.” She looked around. “I'll take the first shift—Faith, could you relieve me at midnight?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Good, that leaves Anna to take the six till ten slot. The Watchers can guard him during the day. I don't think he's going anywhere, but we can't take a chance.”

Buffy entered the small room and pulled up a chair. She sat there for about ten minutes and watched the unconscious man. “Well, this is boring.” Walking quietly to the door, she opened it and asked her mother to hand her the novel she'd seen on the coffee table.

“Do you want company?” Joyce asked.

“No, that's OK. You get some rest. Me and,” she glanced down reading the title, “Love's Tempestuous Tempest will be fine. Who buys this stuff?”

Joyce looked guilty. “I was standing in line at the supermarket and I sort of got into the story.”

Buffy grinned and rolled her eyes. “I love you, mom.”

Joyce returned her grin. “I love you too, baby.”

TBC...
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