Eric Wolfe

Dear D and Riley,

Mon, 12 May 2008 20:25:17 GMT

A. Your thread is awesome

2. Want to meet up with Eric sometime soon?

x^n. Drunk D + Riley + Eric will = FTW {hint hint}

Love,

Linda/Eric!mun

Absence of leave

Mon, 24 Mar 2008 22:10:27 GMT

Hey all y'all!

I'm practicing being Southern (ha!) because I'm getting married Thursday and then moving down to live in Norfolk VA with my DH. Yup, you heard it right! I'm also getting ready to defend my Masters thesis the Monday after the wedding, a day before moving. Le sigh. So I'm not going to have too much time to reply and you can probably understand if I haven't had much time to reply the past few weeks.

I will be checking email pretty frequently so don't hesitate to use that for plottink and stuffs. Once I'm settled in and the DH goes back to work, I'll have much more time to respond and think of fun new things. Maybe even a new character, who knows! :-)

(some of you may or may not have seen this exact post elsewhere...if you have, then pffft! double the fun!!!)

12.01.07

Wed, 09 Jan 2008 03:21:30 GMT

What the other kids were doing while hell was trying to break loose - [open to anyone at Eric's]
Canvasing the area hadn't done as much good as the ex-cop would have liked. Then again, she'd be foolish to think that demons, those she could find, would have actually answered any questions she had. How many were really going to finger the bad guy? Fact was they were all bad guys, well, as far as Kate was concerned they were. If she'd known about the kitten gambling in the back...well, she'd certainly understand the cat's reaction.

The blond woman had tried to sleep, but it wasn't easy. There were too many questions, and she was beginning to feel pointless again. This was the problem. It was always the problem. She needed a purpose, and solving a crime that the police would probably forget or chalk up to the whackiness that was Sunnydale wasn't exactly high on the lists of things to do when one needed a life purpose. Yet, Kate supposed if she didn't do it, no one really would.

She tried another round of questions the next day, but returned back to the motel not long after. The desk clerk wasn't willing to listen to Kate when she asked for a little more time. She'd have money somehow to pay for a few more days. Life was going to hell, if she'd only known what was really going to happen that night at a certain construction site...

She took the note from the clerk, headed up to her room, gathered her things and headed out. Eric would be expecting her, seeing as he called to say he had some news. She doubted it was about the case, or maybe it was. Right then she was feeling as if throwing in a towel was exactly what she should be doing. She had just enough money to cover the gas, she thought, and she really didn't want to ask to borrow some money to leave, much less to stay at a motel. So, yeah, this was going to be an awkward meeting. It wasn't like she could just sleep in her car, and her clothes..well, it wasn't like she could sleep in her car.

Eric was sitting out front, waiting to see Kate.

He was glad he had news to tell her, because otherwise he would have had to think up some ridiculous reason to get her out to his house.

He'd gotten the door fixed and recovered from his surprise over the meetings with the wolves of Sunnydale. Eh, sounded like a bad punk band, didn't it? No avoiding that. At least it seemed like the Executioner and Carr had the young'uns well in hand.

He wondered of D had dragged Jacob over there yet. That was a meeting he was glad to miss, though he would have liked seeing Carr laying the smackdown on the kid's ass. It was definitely needed. He'd seen that attitude before, mostly in new recruits who had been hot shit in their hometowns and thought they were a shoo-in for Special Forces. Usually they were wrong. It was the quiet, efficient ones who usually made it. Which was good, because loudmouths get killed very quickly for not being able to keep secrets.

Most of his news for Kate was about D, but he had managed to get someone to hack into Wolfram & Hart's employee database. He'd had to jump through a lot of hoops to get it - and why was he not surprised that the DOD had an intelligence division protected to deal with demonic and evil types? He'd expected it, but validation was nice. They probably recruited from the street, "saving" those who were on the run after accidentally hacking into this stuff by recruiting them to their safe desk job. Not a bad trade.

The sound of passing cars filtered through his thoughts until he heard one stop in front of the house. Standing up to stretch his knees, he walked down the stairs to meet his lovely lady investigator.

Dietre sat sprawled on the living room floor with Sancho, using the dog as a pillow as he worked on getting one of his compositions down on paper, neatly drawing each note. When home, Dietre was almost always with Sancho, shamelessly spoiling him and lavishing attention without limit. To timid to show affection to the people in his life, Dietre apparently latched on to Sancho instead.

At the sound of tires crunching on the pavement outside, D lifted his head, frowning. He knew Eric had invited Kate over, to his displeasure. It wasn't that he didn't like Kate, he was just...jealous that Eric liked her so much more than he liked him. He would always be unsure of himself, always feel as though he were intruding on Eric's life, always wondering if the man wasn't wishing he'd just leave. But Kate...? She'd always be welcome, wouldn't she?

Dietre knew Eric was going to tell her about him being a werewolf, and was sure she'd not be happy. Would probably want him gone. Why did Eric have to tell her anyway? Why did she have to know? D didn't always tell Eric everything...Like, he hadn't said a word about meeting David, or even that other vampire, the Cullen girl. It didn't hurt Eric not to know, it wouldn't hurt Kate not to know about the werewolf thing either.

Frown,frown,frown.

Why did Eric have to tell her? Because Kate didn't exactly know of a good werewolf. Sure, she could suppose there were some that existed, but she hadn't exactly met any either way. She sat in the car for a while, waiting for something. Waiting for her decision. To tell him she couldn't afford it, or to tell him she had a job that really needed her. Her lips pursed, her brow furrowed...her things were in the trunk, so it wasn't obvious that she was about to leave town.

With a deep sigh, she climbed out of the car, got in a good stretch, and headed for the door. Her steps were slow, and her hand beat lightly against her thigh, a nervous tick? Her bottom lip had been drawn in between her teeth. Yeah, she was either in deep thought or had a bizarre way of seducing someone who wasn't even around.

Actually, he was right there to meet her.

"Hey. Any luck?" Yeah, skip right to the problem - well, partly problem.

Eric thought her car sounded funny - like it was straining. That worried him. What if it broke down somewhere or got her into an accident?

"is your car ok? Do you want me to take a look at it?"

Clearing his throat, he gestured with his hand towards the door.

"Would you like to come in, have a seat, eat something? This may take a while."

Dietre cocked his head, listening for any mention of his name, eyes narrowed for a moment. He wondered if Eric had plans to include him in the conversation. He breathed a low sigh, laying himself back down to wait for whatever was going to happen next, pretending to be going over the music sheets he had filled out, but not actually seeing them at all.

"My car's okay. You don't need to look at it. I can take care of it anything happens." Kate gave the soldier a slight smile. He was being cute in that overprotective way. She gave him a quick pat on the shoulder before brushing past.

"I suppose I could come in for a bit. I have something to tell you." She'd still not decided if she was going to tell him the truth yet, but if it was going to take a while, maybe she'd figure out what the right thing to say would be.

"Any words from your informants on who might have gotten into Willy's?"

Eric stretched his arm past Kate's form to open the door for her, ever the gentleman. Not that he didn't take the chance to look at her butt. What? It was cute.

"I did get a little information, both on who might have taken out Willy and what's happened with your lawyer non-friend. But maybe you should go first. That way, I can get us both a drink while you talk. We'll see what happens."

"Just the regular same old shit. Nothing new. Think there's a cover up, but not from any one direction. Think it's more they don't want to look into the truth. Can't blame them." Kate watched his hand, but she let him do the guy thing.

"You got your door fixed. That's good. And, I might have a job coming up." Well, she would test the waters first. "Money's money, right?"

Yeah, water, flat. Rock, thrown in, very heavy testing.

Eric followed Kate into the dark house, flicking on a light or two as he escorted her into the kitchen. Pulling out a chair at the table for her, he sat down and laced his fingers.

"Yea, I can imagine the cops here have a well-trained blind eye to turn to these things. That's why it takes a little doing to find anything out."

He refrained from giving away any information, though, until he found out what he wanted to know.

"Yea, new door. It's all taken care of, don't worry. A job? What kind of a job? And for who?"

He narrowed his eyes as he talked. He was suspicious by nature, but especially of anything that would take Kate away. Besides, who in this God-forsaken town needed a private eye?

"If you need money, I can see about a few things. Don't take some crap job just for a little extra cash."

Kate hated lying. It wasn't that she was bad at it, but it simply wasn't her favorite thing to do, especially when he wad trying to be helpful. She settled into the offered chair, her hands resting on flat on the table before pulling back to hold together.

"Well, it wasn't so much a crap job, but it's back in LA." Lie, one and two. "It might mean some big money later." Lie, three. "Plus, I wouldn't want to put you out. You've already got one person to look after." Not so much a lie as a deflection.

"I'm still thinking about it. Trying to decide if I should stay, or go." Yeah, maybe she was waiting for him to ask her to stay, which was one of the silliest fishing experiments she'd attempted in her life. He barely knew her.

"Who'm I kidding? Look, I've got an apartment back in LA, that I'm still paying rent on, and bills to go with said apartment. Dad's pension comes in, but it's not that much. My savings is gone. I can't stay here without a job. I'll be lucky to get back to LA with the money I have for gas. That's that." Secrets weren't for the weak, but they weren't for the strong either. "Not to put a damper on the whole information pow wow."

"Back in LA? Does that mean you'd leave?!?"

Well, this screwed with his whole view of things. He wanted more time, more....well, more Kate. He needed to put a stop to this. Now.

"Well, let's counter your points one by one, I'll start with being rational, ok? I don't much need to look after D anymore, I'll tell you about that later. I need to keep him in line, sure, but I'm used to that. I've headed teams of hard-headed Special Forces agents, I can handle one kid easily. You would never be an imposition. Never. You can....you can move in here!"

he realized how that sounded, and hastened to qualify his statement.

"There are plenty of bedrooms in this house. Hell, you can have your own wing of the house. We'll designate it as female-only without express invitation. This can work. Just...don't make any decisions yet that you can't take back. I know I sound like a whiny brat, but really. You're a big help here. If only in keeping me sane and focused."

Kate blinked at the reaction. She knew she'd get something, but certainly not this. Her head tilted slightly as she thought, trying to process the whole stay with me vibe.

"Right. I could stay here with Batman and Boywonder, in my own wing. I could go home and pay my bills. I can't leave my apartment just sitting there. I had.." She paused realizing the word actually fit, had in the past tense. "There was.." Again past tense. "A life back in LA. I did exist before Sunnydale and crazy supernaturalness. I didn't exactly expect to relocate; I was just here for a few days' stay. Dust a vamp then go home. My clothes are getting that washed many times look."

She wasn't trying to argue against staying, but she couldn't just give in, could she?

"Eric, I need a job. I need to find my own way. I have ends that need to be tied off if not tightened. I could use a room for a little while, but I'd have to find somewhere else for myself. I've lived by myself a very long time now, so.." She was trying to figure out what to do really. It wasn't like he said give up her apartment, but she couldn't keep it. "I have to find a way to pay for the rent in LA."

Her hand lifted to brush her hair back as she worked through everything she had to do. The Pros and Cons list was forming in her mind, and she really wasn't sure what went where.

"I'll stay the night, but I really do have to find some way to live. Here or LA, I've gotta find something."

Eric patted his hands against each other, oddly agitated by this whole situation.

"Well, then. Stay the night, we'll talk about it. If you need a job, I can see if you can get official papers as a consultant working with me. I don't want you to give up your apartment or your options or your life, but we're not done here. We're not. On many different levels."

A wry grin pulled up the corner of his mouth.

"Plus, you know how much government contractors get paid. Way more than government employees. You may soon be earning more than me, way more. Why does that make me vaguely excited and turned on? Hmm."

Kate's head tilted slightly as she listened. He really was an interesting guy, and she just didn't get him. He was actually working to get her to stay and to give her room. Not that she was complaining, but she didn't understand him...at all. She probably never would get guys.

"I suppose I could be a consultant, but you've been at this much longer than I have. Don't know exactly what bit of fancy verbal foot work you'll have to do to get me a cushy consultant position. As if Feds or military ever gave two shits what the local pd knew or thought." She was only slightly teasing him.

"You know, you're gonna give me a complex - might think all you want me for is my bedroom...skills. You know that sounded a little better in my head." She nodded, and had the slight decency to blush.

Eric smiled and ran a finger down her cheek.

"You can just leave that to me. Local liaisons get paid rather well, you know. Intel on the ground is hardest to acquire in any situation, surely you've found that as an officer. So I'll work it out, don't worry."

Sliding the finger down to her neck, he let his face get a little more serious again. Because this was serious, at least to him. And she had already proven she wasn't a casual type of person. That was good; those days were long behind him.

"Bedroom skills? And I'm sure you have them in spades, but that's not all I'm after. I think that would be fairly evident by now. Can't I get a break with you, Kate? Really?"

Her head tilted towards his finger, lids lowering slightly. A very nice shiver ran down her spine, but she focused on his words, on his face. Her smile faded at what he said.

"Ever try being the only female in a room full of cocks? Cocky, cock up, cockhead. You name it, they were it. You get used to certain..bad jokes. Certain ideas. Not the easiest to break." She didn't lean away from him, not this time. Her brows furrowed as she thought.

"It's just not easy. You could die any moment, and then because the world is fucked up, you could come back to haunt me or feed on me. I might have to put a stake through your heart, a bullet through your head, or something just as lovely and oh so very romantic. All this and I don't even know your middle name, who your parents are, if Sancho was your first pet." Speaking of the loyal friend, she gave a quick look around. "It might seem a little soon to be thinking about killing you, but I think living in Hellcentral, we might want to consider the implications."

08.29.07

Wed, 09 Jan 2008 03:04:40 GMT

woof?
[Open for Miss Kitty Fantastico]

Sancho wondered what was taking his human so long. They had gone into that smelly-alcohol-vomit-wood-urine-oily place a really long time ago. He had refrained from chasing five squirrels and two fluffy bunnies. And the smells around here! There was something wonderful wafting from that garbage can across the street. But he stayed put. Eric had told him to sit and he sat. Eric was his master. Masters were never wrong! And they fed you! EVERY DAY!!!!

He did, however, give in to the urge to scratch his ear with his back leg. Aaaaaaaaaah, that felt good. Sancho followed it up by standing, stretching, walking around in circle three times and sitting back down. He fixed his eyes back on the door, and wagged his tail as he saw the humans come back out. He felt like barking, wagging his tail, but he knew he shouldn't. What if it got Eric in trouble? He knew he was only supposed to come out of hiding when Eric signaled to him, and he wasn't signaling.

Sancho whined, a sound inaudible to human ears, smelling danger in the air. There were all sorts of people here who didn't really smell like people at all. His teeth peeled back as he scented wolf. Wolf didn't scare him. He had bigger teeth and stronger legs. He was a good dog! Good dogs stayed put. Good dogs didn't put their master in more danger by barging out and trying to save them when they didn't need saving. It was hard to tell when Eric had a handle on things and when he didn't, for a dog. Or a human, for that matter. Sancho hoped Eric would have the presence of mind to signal him when he was needed. Sancho liked being needed.

A noise behind him had Sancho's ears coming to attention. He froze, not moving, in case the noisemaker was waiting for him to come charging after it. It smelled.....funny. Mostly like a cat, but also like human-candle-burnt-cream-feathers-tuna-r

ubber. This was not a cat like the ones at home, that hunted mice and would scratch his nose if he got too close. But he waited for the noise to come closer. Might as well, since Eric didn't need him yet. He kept one eye on his master, though, as a new funny-smelling woman? thing? approached his Eric.

Willow was running. She didn't know where she was going, not consciously, but she was running. And, dammit, Miss Kitty wondered when the red haired witch was going to notice that she'd been dropped along the way.

Miss Kitty Fantastico, MK for short, was a grown cat, who'd been pampered by two wonderful two legged females who knew exactly how important she was. She was a daughter of Bast, the walker of the lines between reality and ether, the guardian of dreams and nightmares, and she was lost. Not that MK would ever admit it, not that anyone would ever ask. The small symbol hanging from her simple collar said to whom she should be taken should she get lost, but MK wasn't worried too much about it. She'd find the pair again, and hopefully the lighter, more sensible and sensitive one would be back to normal - she smelled of two people nowadays.

The cat, not kitten, strolled through the undergrowth, not pleased with her current situation; her coat was picking up burrs and who knew what else. It was most unbecoming, and there was a prickly sensation that meant she was getting close to something that was definitely not right. Ridiculous two legged beasties who upset her normal life.

She came up short as she noticed something definitely amiss. The smell of dog. She didn't hiss; MK was not going to show fear, not yet anyway. She crouched down and crept slowly closer; she hadn't meant to make a sound. She'd gotten too comfortable in that dorm room, yet she was decent at hiding when maintainence came in to check on things. She could hide in so many ways. The dog wasn't the only one who felt that there were things about that didn't belong. They weren't supposed to be here.

Curiosity overcame Sancho's instincts, which were urging him to bite whatever came near him. Standing up meant he could better see the small thing sneaking towards hime.

Yup, it was definitely a cat. A little cat, with clean shiny fur. Mousers usually weren't that clean; she must be a house cat. And she was definitely a she. Totally female attitude and smells. She didn't seem too bad, she wasn't scratching at him or hissing. Yet.

Sancho cocked his head to the side, looking at the kitty. What did he do now?

MK didn't hiss as she realized dog was not small at all; she was used to having creatures around her much larger than she, but that didn't make it any easier. This was a dog, a huge brutish thing that would probably give her a good wallop. Well, she wasn't going to be afraid.

Slowly, the cat lifted up to sit in a perfect back on her haunches, make an Egyptian cat statue proud. Her tail even wrapped about her white paws. Her head tilted as well; if she'd had brows, one would have definitely been raised in question.

There was a flick or two of an ear as she listened to the humans who weren't too far away. Why wasn't this dog off panting at its human?

Sancho sniffed the air around the rigidly sitting kitty, didn't detect any danger. He was really happy the cat wasn't a hissing ball of teeth and claws, that's what he usually got.

Standing up, he towered above her and scanned the area for anyone or anything else. Satisfied the kitty wasn't a ploy to distract him from his Eric-watch, he plopped back down on his doggie butt. He was a good dog.

His ears stood up and his tail went stiff as he noticed one of the female humans take a swing at his Eric. His Eric!! A low growl escaped his bared teeth as he waited for a sign that Eric needed him. He watched Eric get away from her, but why did he just stay around? Doesn't he know running would be good? Stupid humans.

Remembering the kitty and hoping he didn't scare her into attacking him, he rolled his face over towards her and grinned. He knew it made him look stupid and harmless. Humans were always fooled by it, but he doubted kitties would be. At least she would know he wasn't going to try and eat her. Maybe.

The tip of MK's tail flicked as the dog came very close. Thankfully, her personal bubble wasn't that big, or she'd feel rather put out. Then again, one's personal bubble tended to change when there was a towering slobber machine snuffing at on - she really didn't need to get in a fight with the over sized so-called best friend of man. MK went so far as to yawn, showing her pointy teeth and just how not impressed she was.

When his attention shifted, so did hers. Her head tilted just so as she tried to catch the scents that weren't the dog's. Something smelled familiar to a few shirts her louder mother hid in her closet. It was human with canine mixed in - same person though, not a dog and his human. Her ear flicked as she smelled death, which really wasn't all that surprising, and then she smelled something else. The tingles she got from her mothers' workings was nothing like what she felt this..thing could do; just smelling it was enough to raise the hairs along her back.

MK looked back at the dog, wondering why he wasn't helping his human, or the humans in general. That was what dogs did, rushed into danger willynilly, not thinking of themselves and what not. She settled into a crouch and crept quietly closer to get a better look, her tail making a hint of the question mark. Curiosity really was such a bitch.

Sancho noted the cat's display of boredom. Cats did that. They liked to not be intimidated by anything, even something that could so easily hurt it. Not that he would, of course. Unless told to. But why would Eric ever tell him to bite a cat? Maybe if it was a demon cat or something....

The thought of demon cats brought his attention back to Eric and the strange people and not-humans. That female-looking-but-not-smelling one kept trying to hit Eric! Couldn't she just be happy hitting everyone else, like it seemed she was already doing?

Sancho watched as the cat crept forward, curious despite her attempts to remain detached and uninterested. He also tried to sneak forward, as quietly as he could. He wanted to be close in case his Master needed him, but not so close as to interfere with Eric's probably brilliant plans. Or not so brilliant. It was hard to tell.

MK settled in to watch, the tip of her tail flicking back and forth as if she were waiting on something. At this particular moment in time, she actually thought it would be a good thing if she could just tell these silly creatures exactly how ridiculous all their fussing and fighting was. The creature tossing the others around was not going to win, and they all would change. It was how it worked. Godlike creatures did not win in this time and place because it upset a balance.

The cat's head lifted slowly, swiveling to look round at the dog. An ear flick was all the further sign of curiosity he got. What was the beast doing? Trying to give them away? Her tail gave a swish of annoyance. This was why cats and dogs simply should not work together.

Her head tilted slightly as her attention returned to the fight before them. One of those was the dog's human. Interesting that the dog did not move.

Now, MK had seen a great many things in her life. She had seen a full seasonal cycle, almost. She'd felt her mothers' powers; she was something of a link for them to nature - not that they saw that, but she'd forgive them. Humans didn't always understand. What MK had never experienced though was a gun shot; her body tensed, before releasing and sending her in a nice jump back with something of a hiss. Did she hit the dog? Did she really care?

Sancho drew his lips from over his teeth and growling, a low menacing sound. He knew what a gunshot was. He'd seen it before. And even though i wasn't aimed at his Eric, it spelled out Bad News (even though Sancho couldn't spell, one of his great life regrets).

He saw the cut leap and nosed her gently to make sure she was ok. Must never have heard a gunshot before. Sancho was proud he hadn't let his instincts take over. Since, of course, his instincts were to bite anyone who tried to hurt Eric until they died. It's a dog thing.

Sancho's eyes were worried as he watched his Master again. When did it stop being bad for him to interfere, and start being good to save Eric's life? Eric never taught him that.

MK wasn't cowering; she was scared, but she wasn't cowering. She'd learned that somewhere, that or it was just in her genetic make up. Her tail flicked in irritation; this wasn't right. None of this was right, especially some dog sitting on the side lines not helping out.

MK turned to look at the dog, the very big, confused, dufus of a dog. If she'd been a dog, she'd have bit him and nudged him in to running out there. Then again, she was a cat, and cats didn't always get involved in the small dangers. They liked to the wild side and deal with the gods and goddesses like danger, which now that she actually thought about it. A forlorn wail that erupted from the cat; this was a big bad goddess type who had certainly lost her way.

MK thought of giving another warning wail, but no one would understand it, except for another cat. The dog probably thought she was having a fit of some kind. This was not good at all.

Sancho stared at the cat in disbelief. Didn't she know about the whole being quiet so as not to attract the big nasty things...thing?

Plus the squealing was getting on his nerves. He nudged her with his nose.

Motion across the street and more of those loud noises caught his attention. Looks like the fight was over. Maybe now Eric would call him?

Wed, 09 Jan 2008 03:00:44 GMT

More fishing...(Eric?)
Kate stood outside the bar, her eyes flitting over the tape. The denizens of the night had no place to hang out, get a drink, or get their kitty fix, but that didn't mean they were lurking among the ..well, it didn't mean they weren't lurking. She just stood there, waiting. It wasn't like she expected anyone to show up, to be caught, but it helped her get a feel for the place; her attention shifted though as she heard something in the bushes. Her brow furrowed.

The gun was quickly pulled and lifted; she knew that if it were a cop, she'd have to explain herself, especially since she'd more or less committed a crime recently. Very recently, say like the night before. The bushes rustled a little more, moving closer. She lowered slightly, trying to decide what she should do; moving closer didn't seem like the best plan.

Then she heard it. A cry for help, even if the cry was a little on the nonhuman side. Kate moved quickly, but the something decided to make a b-line to the closest human. A yeowl escaped the black cat as it attached itself to Kate's leg; the cop thought of screaming, but the beasty that had been bugging the kitty caught the ex-cop's attention first. Three rounds, two to the head, one to the heart - Kate hoped it was the heart. The horn coming from the demon's head made her wonder if it was a bad idea to try shooting.

The demon whimpered and made something of a sour face. It had had a run in with the Initiative and hadn't liked its treatment. It had a choice - attack, get maybe a human and a kitty for his troubles, or run before more humans show up with guns who weren't afraid to shoot at a demon while being the life line for some cat. Kate didn't look as if she were ready to stand down or run.

What was a demon to do? It opted for snarling, which got him a fourth shot. Kitty and human, revenge wasn't worth the pain really, so it lumbered away. What was it with blond chicks wanting to hurt a demon out for a little pussy?

Eric had gone out for a walk.

Not a random for-enjoyment walk, this was a purposeful type walk. Said purpose? To locate a certain cute blond PI he'd seen far too little of since the night they almost got killed by a demon. It was either that or worry himself into oblivion over the lack of Dietre coinciding with a rather large hole being busted into their front door. He needed either a good old-fashioned bar fight or some witty repartee with an attractive female that may go somewhere more...lively.

The gunshot disturbed his reverie. He'd noticed they tended to do that.

He rounded the corner just in time to see the woman of his daydreams load a few slugs into a.....Hostile chasing a cat? Talk about fast food. He snickered to himself but decided to magnanimously offer himself as back-up in case the demon decided Kate would make a larger, tastier meal.

After all, he did have some experience with dealing with Hostiles. Plus, how was he supposed to get a date if the woman in question got dragged off by a slobbering ugly? He pulled his M9 and snuck up behind Kate, ready to back her up.

When the demon slunk away, he grinned and tapped Kate on the shoulder. He hoped her reaction was worth the smile.

The tap on the shoulder wasn't exactly the smartest. Kate had a cat attached to her leg and had just shot a demon that might have thought she'd be the main course to a feline appetizer. She turned quickly with ever intent of using her firearm to cause a little blunt force trauma. She stopped short as soon as she realized who it was, but not short enough; he still might get hit, just not as hard. Sure, Eric might have caught her wrist before she had a chance to actually hit him, but that didn't mean he would.

The cat on her thigh was still making noise. It was scared and possibly in pain. If its pain was anything like the pain it was inflicting, Kate wasn't going to kill it right away. She didn't think she could just kill a cat for reacting instinctually.

"Eric. What the hell."

Eric was glad her finger didn't reflexively pull the trigger, because the barrel just barely missed his nose. That would have been really bad, in a messy brains-on-the-floor kind of way.

He reached down and pulled the cat off of her leg. That can't have been helping with the mood, having a 10 lb bundle of claws and fur trying to crawl into your pants. That was his job.

He held the cat around its back, which was about the width of his palm. That way, it had a hard time biting him or reaching his hand with either set of feet. Couldn't be sure it had been declawed at all.

"Nice to see you too, Kate. I've been worried, but looks like you've got it covered. Unless, of course, it's feline. What's going on? Why is Willy's all closed off? Damage from our bar fight?"

Yes, he did just assume Kate had the info. That's what PIs did, right? Investigate things?

The cat hissed for a little while; then it seemed to settle a little - the smell was familiar. Was there a dog somewhere? The cat knew the dog. The man smelled like the dog. Poor Miss Kitty missed her mommies.

Kate nodded a quick thanks before turning her leg to the light. The cat had cut through her best jeans and into her legs? Was it feral? The cat collar said otherwise. And the poor thing looked like the demon, or something like it, had thought of trying to make it lunch.

"I got attacked, that's what's going on. If you mean the tape...Willy's dead. We didn't do it, but our prints are all over the place. I got a look at some of the pictures. It wasn't human - if it was, that human is one serious fuck up. It reminded me of my dad's..." She stopped to wait for the whole emotional wave to pass. "Dad's death. Vampire maybe? Demon? Not sure. Willy had enough enemies to make anything possible."

Her fingers were busy dabbing at the small claw marks on her thigh. It hurt, but she'd get over it. She usually did.

"This couldn't have been from our fight, but we should be damn lucky that we dusted the vamps. They could have caused a bit of a problem. Maybe some of that gang came back to hurt Willy, get information. I doubt it though. There was a print that caught my attention. Lindsey McDonald - He worked for Wolfram & Hart. Still might. Haven't been able to get in touch with their HR yet."

Petting the cat helped Eric stay calm while he absorbed Kate's recitation of what she knew so far. It wasn't the worst that could happen.

Technically, he didn't exist when he was on a mission. That meant the government would provide a fake name, address and background for the prints. But Kate wouldn't be quite so lucky. They'd have to focus on the other suspects to make sure no one focused on her.

"That's just craptastic. Our one semi-reliable font of information just got whacked off, and our prints are all over some of the mess. Let's look at this lawyer guy, check it out more. Maybe we can find him. Lawyers are slippery bastards, though. Had to extradite one once, he tried every trick in the book to escape. Finally he started ramming his head into the wall trying to induce a seizure so we wouldn't be able to put him on a plane. I decided to help, slammed him hard enough into the wall to knock him out. We loaded him on the plane and tied him into the seat before he woke up."

He snickered to himself. Now that had been some real in-flight entertainment.

"Anyways, let me pull some strings and do a background check on the guy. We can also see if anyone we met around here knows him, like that Dawn kid or the other people in the fight the other night."

"Lindsey McDonald? You want to do a background check on one of the evilest lawyers who worked for evilest law firm that has ever existed?" Yes, the ex-cop said it. She honestly believed that there wasn't anyone else in the world who could be worse than that particular person. She was wrong, but she hadn't met many who could be more dispicable.

"And, I really don't believe beating people up should be that fun." Yes, Kate didn't see everything his way. She shook her head slightly before looking at the cat. "It's got a collar."

She reached out to touch the black cat, but it didn't wasn't having any of it. It wasn't that Kate was mean, but the cat wanted nothing to do with someone who made such awful noises like gun shots.

"Damn it." She pulled her hand back, only slightly pouting. Her fingers rubbed at the scratches on the opposite palm. "That cat doesn't like me. Attacks me for no reason, and now this?"

The corner of Eric's mouth lifted in a small smile.

"Yea, I do want to do a background check. All the more because he works for those assholes. If he has anything to do with this, I'll take him down. Simple."

He stroked down the cat's spine, clicking his tongue.

"It's funny. I probably smell like Sancho, which you would think would make the cat go crazy. Instead she has no problem with me and doesn't seem to like you. 'Course, that could be due to the gunshot thing. Cats don't like loud noises, has to do with sensitive ears and hearing ranges in more decibels than ours. There, there. I promise the mean demon thing isn't going to eat you and the loud noise won't come back."

"Yes. That's it, or it knows I'm not too happy with being its scratching post. See, who it belongs to? Or is it just a name plate?" Kate motioned to the tag.

"And you can do all the background checks you, but he's not going to go down all that easily. If he's working for Wolfram and Hart still.." She shuddered, trying not to think of what the lawyer would want in Sunnydale - nothing good, that much was certain.

She just shook her head at the petting and the cooing. Not that she begrudge the poor thing the comforting, but sometimes, sometimes she wouldn't mind a little cooing and petting; she wouldn't admit it. Slowly she started to walk away from the bar.

"This is too...well, it's too open, to disgusting, nothing about it is finessed as I would imagine. It just doesn't fit a W&H flunky. Maybe one of their hit men, but not a V.P." Her head shook slightly as she motioned for them to start walking. She didn't want to stand there and possibly be attacked by yet another cat.

Eric tried to grab the collar long enough to see if it contained any pertinent information, but that cat was squirmy.

"Hey do you think if I held her still, you could take a loot at the tags? She obviously belongs to someone, she's well-fed and groomed. She must not have been gone long."

He titled his head as he eyed Kate. He wondered what she would do if he pet her hair. What? It was pretty.

"Then maybe he didn't do it. Maybe he was here, like we were, to ask questions. Isn't that what lawyers do, ask questions ad nauseum? Hmm, wonder if he found Willy or a corpse?"

He decided to try his luck, reached out with his hand and ran it down the tips of her hair. The worst she could do was smack him. That would mean she had to touch him, so it was really a win-win.

Kate's lips pursed as he suggested she look at the cat's tag. With a slight nod, she stepped in, waited for him to actually hold the cat still, then looked at the tag.

"'MKF?' 'Love your mommies'? Well, the cat was possible owned by a pair of 'women'." Her voice caught the quotes around the "women." She really wasn't going to guess. Her fingers lightly touched to the cat's jaw. Thankfully, MKF didn't seem to mind too much, but she still seemed to be looking around. Where was that dog?

"No address. If they loved this one so much, they should have added more information." She tried flipping the tag over, finding an address to a vet's or a shelter. "Ah, they do love her?"

She ignored the comments about Lindsey McDonald; Eric didn't understand what kind of bastard the lawyer was. She'd seen one too many assholes walk off free because of W&H, and she didn't see how any of their employees could ever work for the good. Plus, Eric decided to do something more than a little odd. Her own blue eyes lifted to stare for a moment, brow rising to add to the question.

"Did you just...stroke my hair?"

Eric peered over at the cat and suggested, "Maybe we should check out that address. I can't check this lawyer or crime scene out without a phone call or email anyways. We can enjoy each other's company on the walk over."

He grinned, and continued, "I guess I did. I'm attracted to pretty things, and your hair definitely qualifies. I wanted to know if it's as soft as it looks. Are you going to hit me? Because I'm going to keep flirting with you anyways unless you expressly tell me not to - I'm rather persistent."

Kate blinked. Well, that really wasn't the response she was expecting, seeing as she hadn't expected the petting in the first place. She glanced down at the cat, finally risking a little scratch about the ears - thankfully the ex-cop wasn't scratched back.

"I suppose we can take the kitty back to her home; maybe we'll get a reward." Blue eyes rolled at the idea of it; she didn't expect anything. "So, do you know where 1630 Revello Drive might be?" Of course, he did.

"And, I'll have to think about the flirting policy. Do you have a no fraternization rule as a secret agent type?" She was teasing, somewhat.

Eric smiled. That wasn't an out and out no. In fact, it was closer to a yes than a no, if not an unequivocal endorsement.

"Yes, I know where that is. I've patrolled past it more than once during my last stretch in S-dale, land of the dead. Shouldn't be too hard to find. I hope the owners are friendly, and don't accuse us of catnapping or something."

He winked at her, strangely encouraged. "Well, we're not supposed to get involved with subjects of investigations unless it's part of the cover. But you're not our freaky killer, so the path to undying happiness with you is wide open. Only thing standing in my way is your reluctance and my own occasionally stupid mouth. But I'm willing to forgive yours if you forgive mine."

"Undying happiness only works for those who don't die. I like to think I'm going to die one day. What are my options otherwise right?" Kate moved closer as they started to walk. They didn't have much else to do, did they? And, she used MKF to lean in closer to him, to have to walk close. How else was she going to pet the feline?

"My reluctance and your stupid mouth. Mm. You think that's all that could keep the happiness at bay? It might not be that you've got secrets, and can only divulge them on the whole need to know basis? Or maybe that you might have more past experiences than any girl would like to think about? You're a James Bond, and we all know how well his relationships turn out, don't we?" She pressed lightly against his side as she tickled the cat under the jaw. MKF was enjoying the attention; the world had been lacking in kitty worship lately.

"Plus, there's a certain issue of a Deitre who might have a horrible crush on you, and living with you, his living with you might not help matters. How's he doing by the way?" Slight topic shift.

The kitty was purring away against Eric's chest as Kate petted her. He only wished it was him being petted. Oh, yeah.

"Well, who says your happiness dies with you? Maybe it exists on after we're gone in some metaphysical way. Because, let's face it, I'm not too keen on going the way of the Nosferatu anytime soon. If by soon, you mean ever."

He grinned at her assessment of his job....requirements. "Aw, honey. Those secrets aren't the important ones. Who I have to pretend to be for a month or two to catch some bad guys? Nothing in the long run. Now, secrets about where I'm ticklish - forget you ever heard that. That does not exist."

James Bond, eh? Does that mean he had devilish good looks and an eye for beautiful women? Yes, of course. But he was a different kind of spy for a different world, one that didn't end up with him discarding dangerous and sexy women behind him left and right like used Kleenex. Military was different from operations like the CIA or MI5. There were almost no excuses for breaching protocol, and rules were to stay above reproach. While Eric may not always manage to do that, he was raised to be a one woman kind of guy. A serial monogamist, if you will. Kate had his focus now, and no one else. So he ignored that little bit of snark and moved on to the really disturbing part of their discourse.

"D? Crush on me? What are you talking about? First of all, I treat him like a younger brother. An annoying younger brother who constantly needs to be pulled out the fireplace before he sets himself aflame. Second of all, he's so repressed in every way, I doubt he'd know his own sexuality and desires if they literally bit him on the ass. Third....I don't know. I don't know how he's doing. He disappeared, left a big gaping hole in my really nice front door and a nice piano he bought with blood money raised solely for the purchase. I'm kind of worried. No word from him. Getting my mind off it with some good old fashioned investigating."

He settled back into silence, thinking about it again. It was still bothering him. If the damn child was ok, he would have called or come back, right?

"Well, you could go find him if you'd prefer. I can do the investigation; it wouldn't be my first time to go it alone." Actually, Kate had been working alone for some time, and having Eric along was different. She hadn't decided if she wanted to share this or not. "Or we can look for him. Oh, and, one, it doesn't matter how you treated him. Two, doesn't matter if he's repressed or not. Three, how did he leave a gaping hole in your front door, and what do you mean by blood money?"

It never seemed to end in Sunnydale. While she knew there wsa no such thing as a truly quiet, crime free night in any town, she had to wonder if Sunnydale got a few more issues than anyone else because of ye olde Hellmouth.

"Eric, there's something you're not telling me about D, isn't there?" A hint of a brow lift and screwing up of lips. It wasn't so much that Eric had lied, but she knew that there were things that might be good to know. Even if they were illegal and would make her want to hunt the little bastard down.

"It's better I know now if I'm covering up more crimes than finding out when they pull me in for something." She might not be a cop still, but she did want to know what needed to be known. Her hand rubbed softly at Eric's back. See? She wasn't mad - not yet anyway.

Eric sighed. Well, he had said that whole bit about no secrets, right? Even if it wasn't totally his to tell...

"Dietre used to be a hitman. Key term, used to be. As in, I found him on the street, almost dead, and took him in as long as he didn't kill people anymore. He took one last job to buy himself a piano because he didn't think I'd want to spend the money on it, and he moved it into the middle of my living room the other day. Then tonight, I went out food shopping, because malnourished boys can really pack it away, and came back to a giant hole in my front door and no skinny little killer to be found. That's where I am now. Confused and a little worried."

He raised an eyebrow and looked up at the streetlight. "And yea, I would like to be in on this investigation. One, I think I can really help by pulling some strings to get you the info you need. Two, I'm really just looking for an excuse to spend more time with you. And three.....see number two."

His piece said, he focused on petting the kitty again. It was really relaxing, as long as Her Highness deigned not to claw at him anymore. They must be getting near the address soon.

Kate came to a stop with the little announcement. He used to be a hitman. There was no such thing as a used to be a criminal. Not without some sort of punishment, some sort of justice. Her lips pulled in as she thought about it. Eric honestly though Dietre'd never kill again?

"Perhaps someone he hurt came back for him? It does happen." Her voice was a little cold; she couldn't turn off the cop bit, not automatically. She'd only been a p.i. for six months, maybe more. It hadn't been that long. She'd been a cop, beat or detective, all her life.

She started to walk again, only to stop. Was he honestly that hard up? Once he got what he watned would he be moving on? She stared at him.

"Eric, are you trying so hard because you feel you need to win something? Prove something? Or are you really trying? Sorry, haven't had the best of luck with men lately. The last one I was interested in drank my blood then saved me from suicide." She still had the small scars on her neck. "I'm not the prize in the Cracker Jack box by any means of the imagination, and I've got issues. Deep seated ones, mostly to do with my dad, but that really...do you really want to do this? I know you've said yes, and I do like the flirty banter we get into, but...if I let you..." She wasn't sure what she would let him do, but it was more on the emotional side than the physical. "Can I trust you not to hurt me?"

Okay, maybe she was reading the whole flirtatious thing wrong, and she was afraid she had. MFK looked between one blond to the other, and she missed her blond mommy. There was a squirm as she tried to free herself. She needed a perch rather than a snuggle. Eric's broad shoulder seemed like a good place to perch or stretch out on.

Kate waited, wondering if she'd just scared him, or if he'd laugh at her.

"Because if all you want is a date, and a roll, I'll give you the date. Not ready for the unattached rolling."

Eric sighed and threw his arm over Kate's shoulder. The one that wasn't currently a bed for a sleeping kitty. At least one of the females here seemed to like him.

"Kate, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm not a wham-bam-thank you ma'am kind of guy. I don't mess around, I don't screw around and I don't fuck with people's heads. If I say I want to date you, then I do. I can wait on the rest, see if it works out. You are a prize, but this is not a contest or a game. I'm not playing around or proving something to myself or you. I like you. You're pretty, smart, cynical and can shoot a gun almost as well as I can. What is there not to like?"

He started to shrug, then remembered the cat on him and inclined his head instead.

"I can't promise not to hurt you, because I don't know what's going to happen in the future. But I do promise not to intentionally hurt you. And I would like it if we could work together, at least on this investigation. We have equal stakes, both having been on the scene of the crime before there was a crime. So do you want me to start pulling some strings to find out what the cops know, or do you want to handle this without me? Just let me know."

"Oh, and I can't promise not to check out your ass while you're not looking. Or while you are looking. Well, all the time. So you'll have to get used to it."

"You really don't know how to do a soft sale, do you?" Kate leaned into him, not moving that arm away. She seemed comfortable against him, and it'd been nearly forever since she'd been able to do that with anyone. Her hands went to her pockets as they walked a little further, coming up to stop in front of the house.

"This is the address. Why don't you drop off the cat? I'll see what I can find out with a few sources I made in LA. If you want, make some calls. You might be able to find out a little more than I can or something different. We'll meet up at your house.. We'll find D, or what happened to him. We'll settle the murder, and get our asses out of the fire they're hanging precariously over." She pressed a light kiss near his lips.

"You can look at my ass all you want, tonight anyway." She stepped away, smiling slightly. With that, she turned and walked away, maybe she added an extra bit of wiggle to the walk, maybe she didn't - but, tonight she wasn't going to deck him for it. She'd call for his address the next day. At the moment, she was heading home to make a few calls then to sleep.

She felt better. A guy who might not be a total asshole was going to work with her, not over her, and she might actually do something closer to police work than she had in some time.

09.23.07

Wed, 09 Jan 2008 02:52:33 GMT

Dietre is a Piano Man.
What: D breaks some rules and buys himself a blood money piano to make himself feel better about being a wolf!
Who: Dietre and Eric.
When: The day after meeting Alice!
Why?: Because I wanted to!

Anxiety. Like he never felt before. Like he never thought he could feel. A creeping sense of panic, large and black, like a cloud filled with lightening. It made it hard to breath. And when his heart beat like the wings of a bird, the beast growing inside him paced its cage, feeling the swelling of the moon as each day passed, aching to be free. Meeting the vampire girl had upset him. Her words had finalized his suspicions. How could he continue to believe he was just going crazy when an outside source said 'werewolf' right to his face?

After he had left her, he did not go home, walking instead through the center of town, drowning in his thoughts. Until he passed a window, a presence within rising like a ghost behind his reflection in the glass. A piano, the color of ebony, all elegant curves and ivory keys. It stopped him in his tracks like a gunshot. A flash of a sun filled room, a beautiful woman's smile, a memory of a moment of happiness that wrenched his heart.

What happened once he left the window is a blur. Him at a phone booth, a crumpled paper in his hand, pulled from a beaten wallet that contained only a single picture of a man, Collin Graves, his late mentor and guardian, and scraps of paper with phone numbers. Olds jobs. Jobs he never finished. Jobs he forgot to take.

A quick conversation. Business. A stroke of luck. A two second negotiation, and Dietre was at a bus stop, then on a bus, then in the next town, then moving through the streets like a wind, running faster than any man should be able to run, and not tiring.

It was so easy. So remarkably easy. How could he have found him so fast? It was all luck. Luck. Some one some where must have finally taken pity on him after so long.

He hadn't any weapons on him. Doing this had never been his intention tonight. But he didn't need one. He shoved his hand through his prey's chest and crushed the heart in his fist. He had no camera, so, with the wet sound of tearing flesh and the snapping of tendons and spine, he took the head with him for his proof.

He was paid handsomely.

He got home very, very, very late that night. And would not say a word about anything.

The next day, while Eric was out, he made another call. Putting a hold on the piano that had stopped his heart. He was there to pay for it within the hour, and demanded it be delivered within two more.

When Eric arrived home, he would find the living room completely rearranged, a bit haphazardly, the funiture pushed too close together, shoved against the walls to make room in the middle of the floor. Where sat the ebony piano, and Dietre, hands resting gently on the keys, not yet playing, only feeling, getting acquainted with the aura of the instrument.

Eric walked in the front door, shrugging off his coat. He had gone out for some food, since with two males in the house (especially one who had been homeless and starving only a few days ago), food went fast.

He stopped to pet Sancho, who whined a bumped his knee. Eric frowned; that was unusual. "Did you get sick, boy? Did Dietre forget to walk you?"

Sancho just whined again and ran towards the living room, giving Eric no choice but to follow.

And stop dead, jaw dropping.

He was pretty sure there had not been a piano when he left two hours ago. Not that he had anything against pianos, of course. His sister had taken lessons and was actually pretty good at it. Eric, alas, could only play Chopsticks (though he could do it rather well, with some flourish).

But he knew he didn't buy a piano. And he also knew Dietre appeared to be communing with it on a personal level.

This spelled trouble.

Sancho's whining brought him out of his..as Eric put it, communing, with the piano. It wasn't the first time he heard it today, Sancho had been rather displeased with him ever since the night before, as if he knew what Dietre had done. Or maybe he was just upset because D moved all the furniture around. Also, yes, Dietre forgot to walk him.

He sensed Eric's presence behind him, felt his eyes on his back. Surprisingly, guilt did not come first. Instead there was an uncharacteristic flicker of annoyance, THEN the guilt. But not much. Though D was a terrible push over, this was one thing he did not intend to back down on.

He did not turn around, only murmured, with a wary calmness, "..Hello, Eric.."

Eric rubbed his right eye with two fingers. That headache that seemed to be around ever since he got to Sunnydale....it was getting worse.

This was his house! Unfortunately, the emphasis there seemed to be on the word 'was'. Apparently, he was sharing now for real, and that meant moving stuff in. But...

"Where the hell did you get a piano and what is it doing in the middle of my den?"

Dietre did not move from the piano, he sat, spine rigid and straight, still not turning his head to look behind him.

"...I bought the piano, and had it delivered. And that is what it is doing in the middle of your den." There was a sharpness in his voice that spoke of defiance. He knew perfectly well he had done something wrong, and deserved to be yelled at, but still he was going to stand his ground. ...And hopefully he wouldn't ruin everything for himself by doing so.

Eric leveled his glare at Dietre. It didn't seem to be working yet, he would give it a little more time to intimidate.

"Where did you get the money for it? You were homeless and starving when I found you, killing people....for...money...Dammit, Dietre! What did I tell you about being a hitman? Not a good job option!!"

The corner of his mouth twisted down. "Also, I don't like things changing in my house without a heads-up. Emphasis on the 'my' part of it, ok? I paid for this. I would like to know what's going on IN IT!"

It was hard for a glare to do its job when its victim seemed to be steadfastly refusing to look at it. Dietre was apparently doing his best to stare at nothing the whole while Eric's temper flared. Even so, he was looking like he was getting a bit squirmy, a muscle in his jaw twitching, his expression grim, bordering on a look of suppressed pain.

"..It was...an emergency.." Oh, right, Eric was going to love that excuse. D exhaled a long breath, knowing nothing he said would make sense to anyone but him.

"It was no one worthy of living, anyway." He glared down at his reflection in the glossy finished surface of the piano, his voice a low growl.

"..A piece of filth. If I didn't kill him, some one else would have..or he would have done it himself with a drug."

Somehow, Eric managed to glare and sigh at the same time. It was difficult to do (try it sometime) but he'd had a lot of practice with his sister.

"That's not exactly the point, kid. And what the hell constitutes a hitman emergency? A sale on poisoned blowgun darts? Give me a break."

He managed to steal a glance in Eric's direction, since it seemed like the man wasn't going to try to kill him. Not like he'd really even be able to at this point..unless he used silver..

The anger was out of Dietre's voice, replaced by a quiet sorrow. Amazing that a man who was a murderer for money could sound so young and lost, even though he was in his twenties.

"..I was worried I wouldn't have a place to play it..if I waited.." He fell silent for a moment before turning a blazingly determined, yet desperate gaze on Eric.

"..Don't make me take it back, I can't bear to take it back."

He was glad the boy in the box was finally letting some of those emotions out. He just kind of wished it wasn't happening in his living room, with him there. But someone had to do it, and he was never one to turn away from a tough job.

"Listen, puppy dog eyes, I'm not going to make you take it back. It's here, you'll use it, end of story. Just...don't kill more people for money, ok? Or not for money. Try not to kill people at all. How about that?"

He scratched the back of his neck.

"Hey, why did you think you wouldn't have a place to stay? I'm not going to kick you out for wanting some music around the house."

Relief upon hearing those reassuring words, and the heat of his gaze flickered and died, eyes averted to the piano once more. A slim finger traced a key, then pressed down to release a single note that seemed to echo about the room in the silence Dietre left by not answering for some time.

"..I won't kill anyone else. This is the only thing I could want that is equal to a life." Another single note, Dietre seemingly struggling with some heavy guilt.

"I don't know..I don't see how you could want me here, when you don't know me...owe me nothing, and I do nothing for you."

Eric snorted.

"Good to know you won't be whacking anyone for a PS3 anytime soon, kid. But why wouldn't I want you here? Other than the recent unauthorized killing spree, you haven't done anything to piss me off. Hell, you even walk el Sancho and help wash dishes."

He raised an eyebrow at D. "Or is there something else you're not telling me? Met a girl? A boy? Did something unspeakable with a llama?"

Poor Dietre, the kid was so easily blind sided by things. He blinked mutely at Eric, confused out of his morbid insecurities for a moment.

"Llama?" He canted his head to the side and gave Eric a look as though he was worried the man might have gone crazy. The thought passed quickly, Dietre returning to the actual conversation at hand, a little embarrassed for not getting the joke at first. It had done its job however, and Dietre seemed just a little less paranoid and self loathing. You know, just a little.

"No. No llamas..." Try 'wolf' instead.

A sigh.

"..All right. ..You have no reasons to not want me here. But. What reasons can you have for wanting me here?" A pause, and it looked as though he had to suppress a glare.

"..Pity is insulting."

Eric sighed. Apparently humor didn't work with D. He had expected as much. Jeez, what did it take to get this guy to loosen up?

"Pity is not my strong suit, kid. I like having someone around to help out, walk Sancho, talk to when I feel like it....and Kate sure won't move in with me, so I guess it's up to you to keep me sane. And despite to occasional homicidal impulse, you seem like a good guy to have around. What's wrong with that?"

"..Keep you sane?" Dietre looking up from his scowling. And though his lips did not actually curve, there was a shifting in his expression, a movement of the muscles around his mouth and eyes that was some how a smile, but wasn't. The thought of him keeping anyone sane was laughable. Almost hilarious. D shook his head, and it seemed Eric had finally succeded in doing away with Dietre's bad mood.

"..I hope I never make you regret it." Fingers returned to the ivory keys in another feather light caress.

"Do you have any requests..? This is your house, your living room, after all. I suppose its only fair if you get to choose the first song I play on your new focal piece."

Eric patted him on the head, ruffling up his hair.

He couldn't help it. Dietre was so straight-laced and uptight. It gave Eric a perverse pleasure to mess it up whenever possible. Gave him a glimpse of the person underneath D could be if he ever pulled that stick the size of the Eiffel Tower out of his ass.

Knowing the Proper Kid probably expected him to ask for something simple and typical, he smiled and said, "Yea, I have a request. Play some Debussy. I've always liked some of his work. I'm going to go make dinner."

That settled, he picked up the groceries he had dropped when he saw the ebony grand and hauled them into the kitchen. Didn't want to milk and cheese going bad, that would ruin everything. An unmitigated disaster, that.

06.30.07

Wed, 09 Jan 2008 02:43:30 GMT

Wee Willy Spills Some Beans? - Eric, D, anyone else who can?
Kate stared out the window as Sunnydale turned from rich and ignorantly blissed to down and out in Demonfriendlyville. This was going to be interesting, especially since D had not warmed up during dinner and he looked sullen enough to stay that way. He was going to make perfect bait for the ones who want to pick a fight with a sullen girly boy.

D had been allowed to go in alone while Kate and Eric entered together. Kate had to wonder how obvious they were; anyone sensitive enough could probably smell Eric all over D - those were the larger man's clothes after all. The excop settled at the bar, her attention resting directly on Willy. She wasn't exactly hiding the "I can pull you over this bar or just bang your head into it" vibe. She was a woman who wanted some answers.

"Yeah, look, I paid my taxes, and my license is okay. I don't want any trouble." Willy had the jitters because the blonds were either cops or thugs, nad they looked a little too clean and pretty to be common thugs.

"Haven't served a minor in her ever!" At that time, some kids walked by talking about how great it had been since the night the high school blew up. "Heh heh?"

"Yes, this is the picture of a family friendly environment," Kate smirked a little, finally speaking after all the oh so intense staring. "We've got some questions, and you might want to answer them. Big guy here hasn't hit something in a while."

Kate reached over and rubbed the back of Eric's head much like she would Sancho if the big teddy bear of a dog let her. She looked over at the door as if she could check on the Great Dane that way. Her hand trailed down Eric's back before she pulled the wandering fingers completely away For Willy, the move removed some of the idea that he was dealing with cops. Of course, that left people like the Initiative.

Eric was more than willing to go along with Kate's lead - she went along with his last time, at the coffee shop. Plus he liked it when she touched him.

He made sure to keep a careful eye on Dietre, though. When it came to 'kill or be killed', he could handle himself but otherwise he was like a shy little boy. They wanted to use him as bait but they didn't want to abandon him to the scaries of the world. Kid had been through too much of that already.

Eric faced the rather unsavory character in front of him and linked his fingers together. He tapped his interlaced fingers on the table top and glared impressively.

"Oh, come on Willy. We both know you aren't exactly operating above-board here. You can't afford not to cooperate. So why don't you just answer the pretty lady's questions when she asks them, so I don't have to hurt you?"

Having already agreed to the idea, it would do him no good to get cold feet now. Dietre hovered at the entrance to Willy's, paranoid that everyone would stare at him. Though, technically...wasn't that the point? To attract somebody's, or something's attention so Eric and Kate could sweep down upon them and use them for questioning? D frowned to himself, dragging his hands out of his pockets, taking a moment to build up some barriers. Time to do his best to hide the 'shy little boy' he really was. Back straightened, chin lifted, a hardness coming over his features, Dietre turning into The Ice Prince. A mask of aloofness, with maybe just a touch of the superiority that comes from being born into wealth. He may have been borderline homeless for five years, but it seemed that rich boy air around him still lingered, if just barely.

He entered, a thing of cool elegance, liquid movement, he just about glided to the bar. Of course he was met with some resistance, Dietre did look a bit too young to drink, despite being of age. And he didn't have any ID on him either. The boy just fixed the barman with a dangerous stare, as if he were gazing upon the most insignificant, disgusting organism on the planet, and did not let up until he was served. Stubborn thing, he was. No beer. Dietre didn't like beer. Hard liquor is what suffering alone in public called for.

He drank quickly, a shudder running up his spine at the burn. And at the pace he had apparently just set for himself, he was going to be drunk as a skunk in no time. And, well, it was not long before his facade began to fall apart. That distant coldness melting, and it was clear the boy was agitated, uncomfortable, tense and nervous. Any moment now he was going to start scowling. This was really not such a good idea, he never should have agreed...But he was an employee, and he had to do it. Not to mention there was a part of him that wanted to make Eric happy and show how useful he could be. Dietre lived for praise.

The clock ticked on. Come and get it boys. Would there be any takers?

"Heh heh. Right. Yeah, look, you two don't scare me. I've seen worse." Willy looked this way and that; he really seemed calm at that moment - as calm a cat in a room full of kitty eating demons. Then again, Willy wasn't exactly one to be calm and relaxed.

The gang of vampire hoodlums thought the blonds were a little too..boring? Or old more likely. So, they focused on pretty boy sitting at the bar slamming the shots. One of them, another pretty boy who was probably once a geek who liked Anne Rice and her "creations" a little too much, stepped from the pack and headed over to settle at the bar. Kate noticed the movement, and her hand, the one that had given Eric's head a rub, touched Eric's thigh, but she never looked over at the bait.

"Okay, okay. You've got it all figured out, but I hear you've been dealing with..what is she called? You know, the girl who kills, aces, oh what is it she does to vampires?" Kate's head tilted toward Eric as if she really forgot the word, but her eyes never left Willy's face. If Willy had a button up collar, his fingers would be working on it, anything release the tension. "What's the name..it's Muffy? Charity?" She knew both names, and her voice was definitely not discrete.

Eric had purposely picked a seat that gave him an oblique view of the bar, so he could see what was happening with Dietre. So far, it seemed like he was just starting to attract attention. There was time for that to ferment while they continued to bully Willy.

He slid his hand over Kate's as she touched his leg, keeping his eyes on the nervous man sitting before them.

"Don't be silly, honey. You know her name is Barbie. Now, Willy. I can see you're not too discriminating about who comes into your bar, you're probably more concerned with the color of their money than their age or species. I don't have a problem with capitalism, far from it. But don't let our pretty looks fool you. We're quite aware more goes in this facility than drinking. Why don't you offer up some information of your own volition, save me the trouble of bruising my knuckles along with your face?"

Dietre was too intent on making himself drunk and useless to notice he was being approached, at least, not until the vampire was standing right next to him. The boy blinked, turning his head to frown up at it. The vampire was grinning, flashing fang, a sure sign that it was young and stupid. Perhaps if it had a few more years under its belt it could have flustered Dietre up some, but as it was, D was not impressed.

The German leaned away slightly, the movement not as all involuntary. From where Eric and Kate sat, the conversation could not be heard, though from the young vampire's expression, and D's reactions, it was clear their bait was being propositioned. Dietre was tense as a spring, jaw set rigidly as he turned his head away, continuing to drink, giving the vampire a very cold reception.

The vamp was shot down. And he did not like it. He turned to exchange a look with his little gang, the lot of them laughing sinisterly, as if Dietre had just told a very amusing joke. What cocky fledglings these guys were! The one trying to work his magic on Dietre sneered down at his intended prey before leaning in, either to whisper something wicked into the boy's ear...or, most likely, to steal a taste.

The spring snapped, Dietre going into action so quickly it seemed like time had skipped ahead a beat or two. It was all one smooth motion, the boy reached over to snatch a beer bottle from the bar top next to him, swung it so it shattered like a bomb across the vampire's face, he was on his feet and then the broken end was jerked forcefully into the creature's stomach. Out again and already slashing forward to hit home a second time, all before the surprised vampire knew what to do, dumbfounded by the display of idiotic bravery.

Really, Dietre was oh so very lucky the vampire was so young. But not that lucky. Around the same time the vampire came to his senses, its gang was already springing across the bar to join the fray.

D was going to get himself torn limb from limb...

Kate actually sighed as the bait decided to become not so baitish; there was a tilt of her head for Eric to go do his thing. She had someone to take care of presently. Before Willy could move, Kate had reached over and yanked him towards the bar. She didn't pull out the gun that was settled under her jacket, but she certainly thought about it.

There was a soft whistle as the gang decided to do what vampires of Sunnydale did - go extremely ugly, showing their inner demons. Kate sighed; she reached into a pocket pulling out a plastic tie. Yanking Willy a little further over she shoved a blade - which was not a good thing to have on a bar top - through Willy's shirt into the bartop. Any hands that could have freed him were efficiently "tied" behind him.

"Stay." She was going to help apparently.

Eric wasn't too surprised at how quickly things had happened. When shit went south, it went south damned fast. Still, he was impressed both with how D took on the vamp and how Kate disabled Willy in two quick moves. Saved him a precious few seconds as he ran over to the middle of the bar fight.

Bar fights were fun. Way more fun than gun fights....or flamethrower fights. Those were scary, even for him. Fists and vampires, he could handle with no problem.

He got in the way of a vampire about to pounce on D's back and threw him across the room. Newbies were always too easy. Punching a second baby vamp in the face to distract him, he pulled a specially-made set of stakes. These were thin and short, just long enough to strike the heart and easy to remove and reuse. Being military had its advantages - the toys were way cooler.

He whirled around, stake in each hand. He made sure D and Kate were well-situated, then smiled at the milling vampires. His eyes were lit up and his smile was bright, as if he was about to play a game of touch football rather than beat the living hell out of some vampires (literally).

"All right, come on. Who wants some? Form a line, I got time."

For some one as small and delicate as Dietre, it was a surprise how well he defended himself. It seemed the trick was a high pain threshold mixed with a bit of a death wish. Kind of equaled out into a sort of killing machine? Well, he wasn't doing much killing at the moment, as all he had for a weapon was half a broken beer bottle, which was becoming smaller and even more useless with each slash he gave his opponents. Bits of it kept breaking off and staying lodged in their skin. And glass certainly wasn't strong enough to do any heart stabbing, so all poor D was able to do was simply keep himself from being killed. When all he had left was the bloodied neck of the bottle he gave up on it, letting it fall to the floor.

Now he was defenseless. Almost. The one who started this whole mess seemed to claim D for his fighting partner, most likely trying to win back some pride after being attacked by a lowly human in front of his buddies. The vampire hauled D off his feet, throwing him to the floor before pinning him, fangs snapping inches from the boy's neck. Dietre had been silent during the whole fight so far, but now he spoke, his voice a low murmur. A short chant, a burst of bright red orange light, and the vampire was a screaming fire ball, leaping off his victim. It was so very easy, Dietre had doused him in all that flammable alcohol when he broke that bottle across his face after all.

It seemed the kid hadn't been lying when he mentioned being trained as a watcher. He had a few tricks up his sleeve. Let's just hope his little display doesn't end up getting the whole bar burned to the ground.

Luckily for them, Willy's patrons didn't exactly want to join in in the throw down unless the humans were turned into a three course dinner. There were eight; now, it was to a much easier number of seven. Willy was definitely complaining about the damage, no respect - nothing like pulling a Dangerfield.

Kate shrugged slightly, lifting up a barstool. Wow, what moron buys wood furniture that could be so easily used as weapons. She had one stake, but the barroom was full of more. She smashed the barstool dangerously close to Willy's head, tossing a now free leg over to D; she left the other rest on the bar for the moment.

Vampires broke off to face the blond excop and the pretty boy magic type, though they did seem a little more wary of the pretty boy than the tough girl. She couldn't be a Slayer because no Slayer was ever that old, but she looked like she could cause a good bit of damage.

Kate settled into defensive mode for all of two seconds before decking her own little bloodsucker - she was going to whimper about the pain in her hand later. The fact that this mere human would go offensive first shocked the idiot long enough for Kate to shove the stake into his chest, of course, not without getting a scratch down her arm before he went all poof and dust.

Two rushed him as soon as he spoke, trying to outnumber him. Stupid vampires. He slammed his hand out hard towards one of their chests, sliding the stake in and out again almost too quickly to see. The second grabbed hold of his other arm as the first crumbled into dust. The second of delay as the vampire took in the demise of his friend was just enough for Eric to sweep his feet out from under him.

He landed on top of the snarling vampire, grinning madly. "You messed with the wrong group of people, you leech. Now say good night, wannabe." He slammed the stake into the chest below him and stood up, not even looking down at the dust that once was a human being.

He looked over at D, who had just set a vampire on fire with his Watcher mumbo jumbo. Hey, whatever works. Still, Eric would take a gun any day. He'd have to figure out a way to get them to work on Sunnydale vamps someday, something to take to the lads in the lab about....hmm.

Eric turned back to see how Kate was doing and saw her grappling with a vampire. She dusted him pretty quickly, but he caught sight of another sneaking up behind her. Fucker was trying to ambush her, but no way was that going to happen. Eric tackled him, stake at the ready. No way was anyone biting his girl but him, and he didn't draw blood. Eric punched him in the face a few times, which made him feel a little better, then finally staked the bastard and put him out of his misery. Kneeling on the floor in the dust, he cracked his neck and turned back to the rest of the fight.

Seemed like everyone was handling themselves just fine. This whole group thing seemed to work out fine.

Yeah, the three of them were giving off a regular ol' Charlie's Angels vibe. Did that make Eric Farrah Fawcett?

Really, the fire thing wasn't all that impressive. He had actually only managed a spark, it was the alcohol that did the rest of the work. Speaking of, Dietre had put away a good number of shots in the time before he decided to get suicidal, and with all of this action going on, the booze was beginning to hit him. Slowing him down. He gratefully caught the chair leg tossed to him, and attempted to get to his feet. Though... uhh...this time his mind was a bit ..cloudy? Enough for a vampire to catch him off guard and chomp into his shoulder. The boy let out a sharp hiss of pain, promptly jabbing his makeshift stake into one of the baby-vamp's eye sockets. If anything was going to make a vampire let go of you, a chair leg sticking out of their face would be it. Eric and Kate were finishing off the rest of the vampire gang, D finally standing, only to stumble back a few steps until he was lucky enough to be held up by the bar.

"...We should keep that one alive for questioning..." Dietre's tone ominous as he glared at the vampire who had bit his shoulder. It was currently trying to yank the stake out of its eye, but was not having much luck at the moment. At least it was distracted?

Kate caught herself on the bar as she saw a not so happy soldierboy throw himself at her, no, at the baddie behind her. She'd actually winched at the whole stool leg in the head bit, and frankly she thought even if the guy was a vampire, it wasn't nice thing to do. It didn't seem to bother her as she ignored the questioning comment from D and helped the guy with his beam in the eye problem.

She didn't spout any snappy biblical punch line, though one did trace through her mind, as she yanked the wooden leg free. The vampire didn't have long to enjoy the feeling because the excop soon shoved the piece of wood into the vampire's chest, getting the dust cloud she wanted. That left two more for the blond pair to handle; D seemed very much down for the count.

She didn't wait for anyone to notice that they were down to two, just a quick check on the two men before she moved on. Her next one had been working his way towards Eric, back to Kate. Now, Kate knew soldier boy could handle it; she just didn't want him to think he had to always save her. The stool leg shifted in her hands, and she soon sent it through the vampire's back. It wasn't fair, and it was damn harder than going through the front it seemed. Yet, she'd gotten three in. That left one.

Kate looked around, achy and bleeding. The vampires had gotten a hit or two in, but luckily they'd been only clips or she'd be out. Plus, hitting vampires back wasn't all it was cracked up to be. She took a lean against the bar; brow raised as she noticed they were the only ones in the establishment.

"We can question him." She motioned to the last man standing.

Eric laughed when Dietre shoved that chair leg in the vamp's eye. Kid was inventive, couldn't deny that. He was almost disappointed when Kate put the blinded bloodsucker out of his misery.

The rest happened really fast, now they were down to one. One last vamp. Eric hoped he was feeling the heat, so to speak. The place was empty except for the fearsome vampire slayers, the last leech, and poor Willy still stuck in his chair. It was about perfect.

Eric slammed his fist into the vampire's face. There. Now, it was perfect.

"What do you know about the new vamps in town? Where are they all going, what are they doing?" He punctuated his questions with a few more punches.

The vamp blinked blood out of his eyes and coughed - strange in a being that didn't need to breathe, but old habits die hard. "I....uhm, I don't know man. They keep to themselves, don't ask us any questions. Full of themselves, think they know the secrets of the universe just because a stake don't dust 'em. They mostly hang out in the cemetary, wearing black and smoking like Cure wannabes." He sneered, forgetting that the man in front of him didn't really care about his personal opinions.

"Ok, thanks," Eric said. As the vampire started to stand up, amazed that that was it, Eric pulled out his special stake and palmed it right into the vamp's chest. "No fair" started to hiss out past the fangs as his body crumbled into dust, then silence.

Eric shrugged his shoulders and looked over at Kate and Dietre. "So, what now? Beat on Willy for more info? Because, seriously, we haven't gotten much out of this evening yet, other than the workout. Not that I don't appreciate the fun and games, you know."

Eric wasn't the only one disappointed that Kate had taken it upon herself to kill the vampire that had bitten him. Steel grey blue eyes narrowed at the woman in a disapproving glare as she staked the vamp. Dietre had intended to make it pay for biting him. Pay in the form of a slow painful death. And who said D was down for the count? He was just drunk, and a little bitten, not dying or crippled.

D now fixed his hateful gaze on the vampire Eric was pounding for information. He thought that the man should have tried a bit harder, too quick to kill the vamp before getting anything really good out of him. Then again, most people weren't as comfortable with gruesome killing as himself. So what did they know now? There was a new breed of vampire around town?

Eyes slid cooly over to where Willy was trapped, voice low. "..Unless he knows where they are staying..I doubt he will tell us anything useful.." From D's tone, it was clear that the boy could easily kill Willy for being no help.

Drinking sure made Dietre cranky, didn't it?

Kate's eyes narrowed slightly as she watched the two of them; she might not like vampires, but she wasn't going to be cruel. She was still human after all. She shook her head at both males before settling down on a barstool, very close to Willy's head.

"See, this is our problem. I have two people who would very much like to beat the shit out of you and maybe more. I'd prefer to not resort to such violence for you. You might actually be able to give us more information in the future; beating you may not get what we want, mm?" Kate actually smiled sweetly as she petted Willy's hair, wiping his brow with a napkin.

"Now, talk. I can't really keep them off you for long without it."

Willy squirmed, "This would be easier if I wasn't tied up like dinner. Maybe let me loo..." He didn't bother finishing the sentence. "Right, there are some big bads in town, crazy. They're aimin' for this hotty who isn't Slayer girl, and Drusilla's back. She's really crazy and bad, and you might know that. And..and..I haven't paid my taxes in two years."

Kate wondered how that came out; not that he'd been awfully sharing, but he was a little closer to some information than none.

Eric just kept his eyes level on the scumbag sitting in front of them.

"Oh, come on. Can I just hit him a little? Just a punch or two, I promise he'll be more informative with his head spinning and a few teeth knocked out. Not that you couldn't use some cosmetic dentistry. I mean, with not paying your taxes, you should be able to afford it. If I get really mean, I'll just turn you in to the IRS. You think we're mean? Just wait until the auditors get ahold of you. You may prefer me tying your dick in a knot to the IRS making you pay millions of dollars in back-taxes and fines. Don't think I won't do it. I'm a lot less nice than I look."

Eric bared his teeth in what could loosely be termed a smile. Nice was not exactly the word, here. Intimidating, maybe. Dangerous, for sure. Nice wasn't anywhere in the neighborhood anymore.

"So what do you know about the not-Slayer girl? And tell me everything you know about these big bads, anything you may have even heard. Maybe then I won't leave you in a puddle of your own bodily fluids....which is better than being left in a heap of your own body parts, that's the next level up of punishment for non-cooperative informants."

It seemed there was no use for the creepy silent type at the moment. Kate and Eric were playing verbal dodge ball with the helpless Willy, something D would never be good at. He was a man of few words, he let multiple stab wounds do his talking for him. He moved back towards his stool, the short distance hiding the fact he was not quite all that steady on his feet. Those shots were beginning to work their magic, so to speak. And in the end, they were going to do a number on the kid, just looking at him you could see he wa a light weight. His only problem was that he didn't know when to quit. The more he drank, the harder it got to think, and Dietre hated to think. Luckily D was rarely around alcohol, otherwise he'd become a wretched booze hound. So it seemed drinking was an emergency situation only thing.

Sort of. You know, despite the fact the boy had reached over the bar top to pour himself scotch on the rocks. Without the rocks.

Some one should stop him before they'd have to carry him out of there.

Kate's eyes rolled a little at the threats, or promises. She sighed softly leaning against the bar, elbow to bar top, chin in lifted hand. Her fingers tapped slowly on her jawline, watching Willy sweat.

Willy shifted as much as he could in that particular position; it wasn't working very well. He whimpered something, blinking up at the blond pair, not at all liking what was going on. And then...

"Hey, hey. I can take a punch like any guy, but that kid's drinkin' my profits." He would have motioned to D, but all he could do was shoulder wiggle and kick in the silent types direction. Yeah, the bar owner was certainly squirming like mad. "Hey! Punch me! Don't drink me'n'the kids outta house 'nh'home!"

"He's got kids?" Kate looked up at Eric, a little surprised.

Eric shrugged, as surprised as Kate to hear the 'need the money for my kids' defense. He also heard the comment aimed at D, and aimed a sharp glance at him. He'd carry him out if he had to, but he'd rather not. It would leave his hands too occupied to deal with an ambush if any of the vamps' friends heard of the fight tonight - of course, that was assuming these lowlife losers had any friends, which was really quite a stretch of the imagination.

He walked back to the bar and grabbed the bottle of scotch out of D's hands. Checking the label and grimacing, he took a swig then poured some over his bruised and bloody knuckles. Easier than trying to find some Neosporin at that hour and in that part of town. Besides, wasn't that was tough guys did, made do with what they had? Eric had gotten damn good at that lately.

Still holding the bottle, he pulled a chair and sat right in front of Willie. "You know, we can drink you out of house and home plus punch you at the same time. I'm good at multitasking. So what do you....sorry, I've got to ask this first. How did you manage to find someone willing to bear your spawn? And why would you even mention them, doesn't it ruin your slimy underworld reputation to have little crying babies at home? And really, what do you expect us to do about it, just let you go merrily on your way without helping us after we were so rudely assaulted at your establishment? We could sue, you know. I don't some badass lawyers."

Dietre had just finished his glass when Eric came by and snatched the scotch out of his hands. He blinked, looking momentarily surprised, then embarrassed, as though he had been caught engaging in a bad habit, like a little kid eat caught eating glue. His pale face flushed briefly, and he did not pour himself anything more to drink.

The little boy aura faded quickly, eyes gazing on Willy coldly, as if warning the man not to tempt him by telling him to go ahead and start swinging. Attention was back on Eric and his bloodied and scotch dripping hands. Eyes widened. Back to being a little boy, D switched personas like a light switch gone haywire. He was immediately dismayed by the sight of the man's injuries.

"Eric...you're hurt..." Guilt washed over him, Dietre blaming himself. He was the one who started the fight, and Eric had to come rescue him from the gang. And then, to make matters worse, D noticed the blood staining his borrowed shirt where he had been bitten in the shoulder. Now he looked like he was about to cry. He must have been DAMN drunk at this point.

"..And I ruined your shirt.." His voice very tiny, miserable. As if ruining a shirt was more grave an outcome than having been killed. And this was some one who had been threatening to kill people not fifteen minutes earlier? Poor bastard was crazier than he looked.

What the sad thing was that everyone else left in the room was normal, just trying to go about their business of being good detective types and getting their information. Bloody knuckles and shirts were not the end of their worlds. D was just stuck in his own.

Kate didn't glare, but she did give Eric a look. The kid had to go and go fast. Her lips pursed slightly; D was a liability not an assest at the moment, which meant he could be gotten rid of. Willy rather liked the situation; it was turning out to be one he might be able to use. Kate sighed, sending a nice punch to knock Willy out, even though it did mean she caught her fist on part of the bar.

"Shit. Right. That was a bit of a waste." She shook her hand, not moving to check to make sure Willy could breath or to see if D needed help. "This is why taking home strays is sometimes a bad thing."

She understood the need to take care of someone who might need it, but the guy was shrouded in a little more mystery than she liked. Well, both guys were men of mystery, but D was certainly setting off her "not good" instinct. She sighed again as she reached over for the scotch Eric had claimed.

Eric stared in surprise as Kate walloped Willy in the face, then took his bottle from him. He would have protested at losing it, but he figured he could always take it back later. He Knew he would need it.

He reached over and patted Dietre on the back. "Eh, don't worry about it, kid. I've seen worse, and clothes are just clothes. I got more where that came from, no problem. Get yourself together, we've got work to do."

Looking back at Willy, he said, "Not that we can question the unconscious. Not a talent I possess. I don't think waiting around for him to wake up is going to be such a good idea, I doubt he knows any more than he told us already. We can either head for Buffy's now and see what intel they have, or we can keep hitting up the lower level contacts."

Kate's comment about strays earned her a hurt look. What if Eric thought she was right? She hadn't needed to be rescued, she could take care of herself, therefore she was useful to Eric. Deserved her spot being his partner. All D had done was get drunk and attacked, he hadn't even done a good job as bait. It was just...things were so much easier when he lived like a drifting ghost. Turned off and unattached, moving on instinct, one thought at a time. Looks like he was more in danger living a normal life than he had been being a living zombie.

Eric tried to comfort him, Dietre looking up, giving Sancho a run for his money in the sad puppy dog eye department.

"..Are you sure..?" A million thoughts on how to repay him for everything running through his head. The least he could do right now was be useful. His spine straightened, jaw setting, brows furrowed in a valiant attempt to 'get a hold of himself'.

He stood, but the floor decided to flip sideways under his feet. The boy swayed forward, grabbing Eric's arm without thinking to support himself. Eyes went wide and he gasped a 'Sorry!', as if he had just done a terribly offensive thing, jerking away from the man as if he'd been burned. Only to land sprawled on his ass due to the momentum.

He turned bright red, clearly mortified. He was embarrassing himself. A glance at Kate, surely she thought he was a fool, if he could go hide right now, he would. He used the nearest barstool to drag himself back up on his feet, not looking at either of them, mute with embarrassment. Despite the situation, wasn't it rather nice to see his face so expressive? Even if it was because he was drunk, it was much better than that empty, blank mask.

He cleared his throat, only to mumble his point of view almost inaudibly. "..Either is alright with me..."

Kate claimed a glass for herself and, once she poured herself a little drink, downed the contents before settling it all back on the bar top. Her brows went up as the bait turned into a flopped fish; there was a slight shake of her head and a hint of a smile.

"I think hitting, and I am using the word figuratively, a few more dives. I doubt they'll have more to say; but, he's trashed, and neither of us look our best, mm? Then again, she might not want to see you."

She laughed softly, stretching slightly. There was something amusing about it all, probably the absurdity. The ex-cop stepped over to D and caught up one of his arms. There was a glance back at Eric.

"Although I'm not so sure, someone's up for it." She felt like the mother who had to put the kiddies to bed.

Eric almost laughed at D's tripping but kept it in. Poor kid, being made fun of might make him implode into a black hole right here in the middle of the bar.

He slipped in between Kate and Dietre, putting one arm around each one's shoulders.

"Yea, we can stop by another bar or two, see what's going on. Let's take more of an observatory role this time 'round, huh? No hitting things unless they hit us first." Looking over at D, he smirked and said, "That's hit, not hit on."

"Yea, showing up at the Slayer's door bleeding with two other bloody people, all smelling of scotch? Probably not a good idea.....unless she's been out tonight herself, in which case we'll fit right in."

Dietre had to agree with putting off the visit to the slayer. Sheepishly keeping his gaze on the floor, still holding on to the bar stool, afraid he might take another embarrassing tumble.

"...I don't think I would be a very convincing watcher right now.." Nope, most certainly not. Poor thing.

Oh dear, Kate had moved up beside him, taking his arm to hold him up. He would have stepped away if he trusted himself not to fall over. Being touched was such an awkward thing for him, these past five years, the only people he had touched were people he was going to kill. And he was usually killing them during said touching. And now Eric was coming to lend more aid, Dietre tensing between them.

"..I...can walk, y-you don't have...to.." He trailed off, giving up. No use lying. "...Thankyou."

This wasn't so bad really. In a way...it was rather nice to actually have people to hold you up when you needed it. Kate had won considerable points with her tuning into her maternal side. And well, Dietre's glance at Eric was grateful to the point of near adoration. Like the man was a big brother to look up to. Ah, but D being D...if people weren't careful his hero worship could spiral into something unhealthy. But that was the possible future, this is now.

He mumbled, still feeling guilty.

"..I'm sorry I ruined the plan...I will be good bait next time."

06.19.07

Wed, 09 Jan 2008 02:31:48 GMT

Buckshot is my bread, I drink whisky instead of wine...
{Open for Kate, Dietre, and ?}

Eric hung up his phone and rested his forehead in his hands. He was tired of talking to person after person and not getting enough answers. Apparently, no one in the official channels knew exactly what was going on in Sunnydale, they just knew it was big and Eric had to deal with it. Looks like it was time for the unofficial channels.

He pulled out the notebook he had kept during his time in the Initiative, and flipped through his notes about the various supernatural sources he had used. That one was dead, that one had moved, this one....hmm. Maybe. He made a list of possible helpful sources of information, then sighed. Never a dull moment for a Special Ops merc.

Time to check on the new dependent. He walked up the stairs and softly opened the door of the guest room. Sancho sprang upright and nuzzled his hand. Giving in to the urge for fun, Eric ruffled Sancho's ears and thumped him on his back. As the tiny white tail wagged, Eric looked over at the lump in the bed.

"Hey, you awake?"

After being denied the pleasure of a comfortable mattress and clean sheets for so long, waking up in a nice bed was a disorienting experience. At some point in the night he had gone from 'dead slab of meat' unconsciousness to something more akin to normal human sleep. He was sprawled out on his stomach, face down with his head somewhat buried under the pillow. The sound of Eric's voice brought him to a bleary state of semi wakefulness.

"..Hmhnn-no..?" From the looks of things he probably could have slept a whole eighteen hours, no problem.

The boy lifted his head, hair mussed, making him look even younger than he normally did. Soon enough his memory got itself in gear and he realized where he must be and what his situation was. Being in the company of an almost complete stranger made him quick to get a hold of himself and dash away his grogginess. He crawled out of the bed to stand, fingers flitting through his hair to tame it.

"..Hello." Oh Dietre, the world is envious of your sparkling wit and stunning conversation skills.

"Evening, sunshine," Eric said as he tossed a tshirt and khakis onto the bed. "I know I'm not your size, but I figured you wouldn't want to stay in those bloody, dirty clothes. And by that, I mean I don't want you to wear them. They smell, and they draw too much attention. I am all about not drawing too much attention - until the opportune moment."

He narrowed his eyes and scrutinized the boy's appearance. The bags under his eyes had shrunk, though he still looked like he needed about a year of sleep. His hair was sticking up off his forehead, so Eric added, "There's soap and some toiletries in the bathroom, if you need them. We need to head out soon, so hurry."

Short and to the point. Yea, that was Eric. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room, Sancho dancing on his heels. Starting down the stairs, he said, "I'll be waiting in the living room. Let me know if you need anything else, we can pick it up while we're out."

Eric certainly had a point about the filth level of his current attire. Dietre glanced over his shoulder, back at the bed with a look of guilt.

"..You'll be wanting me to launder all that." More like, Dietre wanted himself to get those sheets and things washed. He couldn't quite imagine getting back into that bed if it stayed in its current...sullied condition. See? One day into having a home and being employed and the kid was more than willing to maintain cleanliness and semi normal sleeping habits.

Khakis? A t-shirt? What sort of alien clothing be this? Long sleeves and black everything had been Dietre's trademark look for quite some time. Blood was harder to see on black. It seemed Eric did not intend for him to get bloody, then.

A nod at the urge to keep things quick. Glossing over the details, Dietre scrubbed himself clean and did his best to make himself presentable. The clothes were indeed big on him, and D wasted a minute or two debating which looked more foolish, walking on the cuffs of his pants, or rolling them up a lot? He opted for rolling them to keep them from bunching up awkwardly above his shoes. There is no right or wrong with a t-shirt, though his arms did feel oddly bare, Dietre keeping them folded over his chest.

A moment later he was joining Eric in the living room, looking whole world's better than he had when they first met.

"Are we working?" Not like he even knew what their work really was.

Eric checked his watch, then looked Dietre up and down carefully. As he suspected, the clothes were too big, but they were far better than what he wore before. Plus, it would actually help him fit in around here. He looked like pretty much any other SoCal teenager, if you didn't look too closely at the eyes. The eyes gave away all he had been through - though they were less haunted than they had been the first time Eric saw them.

"Working, yes. Killing, no - hopefully. I need to check out some sources, see what's going on in this town. The higher-ups are worried, and that's never a good sign. So I get the job of finding out what's wrong, dealing with it as best I can and calling in a crew if I can't do it myself."

Eric opened the front door and gestured Dietre outside in front of him. He let Sancho out, too, before closing it behind him. He whispered "Ghost" into Sancho's ear, signifying that the dog should trail them secretly and hide from human eyes. He was pretty good at that, Eric's puppy.

Watching Sancho melt into the shadows, Eric smiled and started walking down the street. Making sure D was walking next to him, he stuck his hands in his pockets. Eric was probably one of the few people in the world who wore cargo pants so he could really use all the pockets. His even had more pockets than most, some hidden very cleverly - military issue, of course.

Keeping a sharp eye on the space between the houses, he said to the kid, "So, do you have any ideas or information on this town, or did you just stick a pin into a map to end up here?"

Dietre wasn't quite as good at any other sort of work than he was at killing. And to be honest he wasn't exactly the best killer there was either. He was marvelous at quietly studying, however. And remarkable on the piano. He really should have stuck to music this whole time. Before anything...anything had happened in his life, when he was just a lonely rich boy making up his own melodies in the parlor, he had hoped to be a professional pianist. Of course fate has a way of chewing you up and spitting you out and one day you wake up and realize that you've become a not so professional hit man instead.

"...Pin in a map." Was that a glimmer of dry humor?

Interrogating and gathering clues weren't likely to be Dietre's strong points. But at least he could be some what useful. Despite being damn oblivious to what was going on in the world for the most part, some things did end up sticking. When asked if he knew anything Dietre took a moment to think. Eyes glanced skyward, brows together.

"..This is...Sunnydale?" A pause. "The Slayer is here, is she not?"

Eric smirked. Nice to see the kid wasn't all murder and melancholy.

"Yea, the Slayer is here but she may not help me or even talk to me. Once she finds out who I am and who I work for, she's going to turn unreasonable."

Looking over at Dietre, he saw the kid staring at the place where Sancho disappeared. Guess the kid had a things for dogs, who knew? Or maybe it was just Sancho.

Kate woke up with a headache; it wasn't from the alcohol - she'd definitely had some of that. She actually smiled at how little she'd had. No, she'd gone a good part of the previous day without eating - bad habit she needed to break. With a groan, she rolled over to look at the time. Well, it wasn't too late or early to call the only person she really knew in Sunnydale.

The number was keyed in; she'd remembered it from the whole Dawn experience. As the ringing drilled into her headache, she waited. Eventually she'd get out of bed, but right now, staying in it seemed the best choice. Too bad she didn't have a Sancho, who could probably get her a snack or some aspirin from a draw - smart dog.

She sighed softly. How busy could he be really? There were any drug cartels to take over, no one was in that much danger here in Pleasantville, surely.

Still down the block from his house, Eric took out his phone to check if anyone had called him back. To his surprise, he saw a missed call. They must have tried while he was busy talking to someone else or dialing one of his contacts. Seeing Kate's number (a good memory was one of things things that helped you not die in sticky situations), he quickly dialed back. Didn't want the cute cop lady to be mad at him.

Glancing at Dietre, who appeared to be searching the night for Sancho trying to see if he could find him in the dark, he waited for kate to pick up and said, "So, how much did you miss me?"

Who could really blame the kid for focusing his attention on Sancho? The dog was far less threatening than Eric, and as it was supposdily assigned to traveling companion (ahem, babysitter) he didn't quite understand why it took off. Wasn't it unsafe to let a dog run about as it pleased? What if a car came along...?

Blink. For a second Dietre had thought that Eric's question had been directed at him, not having seen the man dial his phone. A slight frown touched his lips before he continued to occupy himself with looking around. It would be rude to interrupt a telephone conversation, but that didn't mean he couldn't eavesdrop.

Kate had just finished with a much needed shower, and she had to run to get the phone. She got it on one of the last rings, and he no doubt heard something fall and a few curses. She sounded a little breathy.

"Shitshitshit..hey, what? Oh, yeah, sure. Hey." Yeah, she was thrown off a little by the whole catch the phone thing. It wasn't like she had to use the phone often. "Hey, and of course, I did. I called, didn't I?"

Eric grinned at nothing and said, "Indeed you did. For which I am, of course, eternally grateful. You all right over there? I thought I hear something hit the ground. What did you get up to last night?"

Keeping an eye on the meandering German, he added, "I've picked up a few things myself. Wanna pool info?"

From what he could hear of the conversation, it didn't quite sound like a business call. Or was it? Rather hard to tell.

Hands found their way into his pockets and Dietre paused, standing a little ways off from Eric as to not to look like an intruder to the phone conversation. Gaze shifted off to moths beating themselves against a street light bulb, the boy patiently waiting to find out what Eric had in mind for today.

"Sure. Diner in twenty? Need to get dressed. And, I'm hungry as hell." She paused. "Maybe not the best thing to say here, mm?"

There were a few more thumps, bumps, and growls - she had started to get dressed. Dammit, she was going to have bruises, and they weren't even from anything good or useful.

"I'm sure you've got much more useful info than I've got."

"Mmm dinner sounds good. I haven't really eaten all day. Diner ok?"

He looked back at D and smirked. "I was just there last night, picked up something very interesting on the way."

He waved his arm, motioning Dietre to follow him back to the diner.

"We'll be there, 20 minutes. And easy on the hell, sweets. You know all about the things that go bump in the night, sometimes they hear you and decide to take you up on it. See you in a few."

So it was food and not work they were heading to? Dietre would have thought it odd if he hadn't remembered that normal people didn't forget to eat for a day or two at a time.

He wouldn't have minded eating at the diner again, except it seemed that it would not be just Eric and him this time. There was going to be a third party. Maybe even a fourth or fifth, Dietre had no idea. One new person was hard enough to deal with as it was, but now he was going to have to sit with two?

Dietre kept his relunctance to himself and obediently returned to Eric's side when the conversation was over. Though he didn't ask who it was the man had been talking to, there was a questioning look in his expression. Such a quiet kid, seems like he didn't talk unless spoken to for the most part. Maybe in time he'll find himself a tongue.

Kate pulled on some clean clothes; she'd managed to hit the little laundramat area before passing out apparently. Nothing like drunken laundry. Hopefully these were her clothes.

Her hair was wet, but she was there in twenty minutes easy. Her clothes looked a little tight, but not something that would be too embarassing, just a bad run through the washer or dryer. It'd stretch out eventually.

So where were Eric and Sancho? Time for food and information sharing. Could just hear the yippee there.

The man in question was walking towards the diner, D in tow and Sancho not far behind. Eric wasn't sure if he could bring Sancho into the diner, so he sent him back into the bushes to wait.

"Don't worry, I'll bring you some food when I come back, boy. You stay here and keep watch. Good boy." He ruffled his ears and let Sancho lick his chin before pointing him in direction of the shrubbery.

Turning back towards Dietre, he wiped the drool off his chin and said, "We're about to meet a friend of mine, Kate. Be nice, and please don't mention you kill people for a living. She used to be a cop, I really don't want to have to keep her from jumping over the table to cuff you. But other than that, feel free to chime in on conversation."

Eric knew the kid was terminally shy, so that was unlikely. Still, he wanted Dietre to know he was welcome to talk if he ever felt like it.

With that, he dragged the kid into the diner with him. Again. Spotting Kate, he walked over to her table and said, "See? Here with a few minutes to spare."

As he sat down, he pointed to another chair and told Dietre to sit. Looking back at Kate, he smiled. "I didn't think I could bring Sancho inside, so I temporarily traded him for this one. Kate, this is Dietre. I met him last night while out snooping around. Dietre, this is my friend Kate."

Dietre offered a pet to Sancho as well before they entered the diner. The woman used to be a cop? If she wasn't anymore, how could she arrest him? Either way, D made a mental note to be careful. One good night of sleep and he was already able to make mental notes. Amazing what rest can do for your brain.

The boy hung back, almost as if he were trying to keep behind Eric and use him as a shield as they approached the woman's table. He wasn't able to hide behind him for long, a moment later he was sitting in the seat the man had pointed out, he was about as well trained as Sancho! Maybe even better.

Dietre only uttered a husky, "Hello.." upon being introduced. His presence must surely be confusing for Kate. Let's hope she doesn't come to any wild conclusions about Eric have a double secret life!

Maybe it could be explained to her like...Batman. Dietre was Eric's young ward!

No...that makes things even more suspicious, doesn't it?

"Nice. I met a pleasant fellow who more or less questioned my sanity and knowledge. Looks like you got off a little easier." Kate nodded to the new guy, kid, pretty boy. They never were very ugly round here, were they?

"Hi. I'm sure you could say he's a work dog, or training, and that'd be no problem. Doesn't quite fit Paws or K-9, but any smart dog could pass. Sancho's a smart puppy, even if he is a hungry smart puppy." She smiled; she really did wonder if he didn't get that dog to pick up women, or homeless androgynous types. Was the kid homeless?

"So, what brings you to Sunnydale, Dietre?"

Eric leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable. It was kind of busy in the diner, so they had a little time before the waitress came over.

"Yea, I had to promise Sancho an entire meal just to make him happy. Little bugger is getting demanding, he thinks he's real people sometimes. I need to find him a girlfriend."

Eric did wonder who was ballsy - or idiotic - enough to try and tell Kate she was crazy or ignorant. He didn't know whether to hate him or root for him.

"So what did you find out, if anything? All I know is there's a vampire leaving kills out in the open, which means he's either very stupid or very powerful. I'm betting on the latter, only because it makes our lives more difficult and that seems to be the way this universe works. I just hope there isn't more than one. I was calling some people when you called me, after we eat I'm gonig to try knocking down some doors of old contacts who are more off the grid. Care to come along?"

Who was he kidding? Of course she did. She lived for this. Just like him. See, a perfect match.

What brings him to Sunnydale? Dietre sent a worried look to Eric as if asking for guidance. It was all well and good to say he wouldn't mention he was a killer, but he hadn't brought it up when he met Eric and the man had guessed right away. Dietre knew he wasn't very good at lying, surely this woman would figure it out too. He turned his head to stare out the window, maybe he would see Sancho outside...

"Uhm...Work. I had to do something for some one..." Vague, yes, but hopefully not very incriminating?

Listening to Eric's game plan Dietre couldn't help but think it was a little complicated. Why go through so much trouble to find that vampire when there were easier ways? For some one as shy and awkward as D, he definitely had a lot of logic in everything else. Enough to be foolish. He looked back to his 'boss'.

"...If we know the slayer is here, why not ask her? It would be faster...She must know about it already." It was her job to know, was it not? This place was her territory, and therefore, it was her responsibility.

"Yeah, no. Bright idea, wrong two people. And seeing as we don't have to worry about oh shit he might think we're crazy, I met a vampire who told me point blank that I didn't anything about them. Said that crosses didn't work; this one grabbed mine. Said stakes didn't work; trust me, didn't try it. Said that Dracula wasn't real, but I've heard rumors about that one. Seems we might actually have a bloodsucker in the dark, crazy - which wouldn't be new - or we've got more than one kind of vampire." She left the drinking off the feeling of crazies afterwards.

She shifted slightly; her attention back on Dietre. "And what exactly did you have to do for someone? Vague tends to mean shame or questionable. I could make a few guesses, but really..."

Yeah, she rarely bothered being anything other than a cop. Right, back to the suggestion before Dietre's possibly better one.

"Bad cop, good cop..or bad cop, worse cop?" Brow lifted, and she smiled as the waitress finally showed with the comp waters.

"Shit."

Eric wasn't expecting the others to show up. He knew, from units deployed in other areas, that there were different types of vampires, but why would they be in Sunnydale?

Lightbulb time. "The Hellmouth. It's raking them in like moths to a flame. All the different kinds. It's going to a supernatural madhouse here."

"Actually, it kind of already is."

Eric held his water and took a big swallow.

"Wait, who are we playing what cop to? What? I lost you."

Ah, he knew it, she didn't buy what he said. Lips turned down, brows furrowed unhappily. Why should anyone feel entitled to details?

"Something." A bit of ice in his tone. Eric was his boss, and so, his only concern was doing what Eric told him. When he thought of things that way, Dietre was capable of being a bit more brave in conversation. Enough to add, cooly.

"And, really, I believe we are discussing something else right now..." A glimmer of the cold, stern businessman Dietre could have grown up into. The man his father had meant for him to be.

And now he would quietly sulk as his suggestion seemed to have floated away above everyone's head. He should have known better than to make an attempt to lead, that was Eric's job.

Kate looked between the two males; one wasn't exactly a man, and the other could act like such a kid. This was what she had to work with? Then again, she really shouldn't be that surprised; most of the men in her precinct were just as bad.

"I think you need to trade him back in for Sancho," addressing the slight snip in the air. And moving on, "Busting down doors, asking questions, good cop, bad cop. Nevermind. I forget you secret types have your own special way of doing things."

She leaned back in her chair, taking a sip of water as she did. "Or you could just take Happy here for the ride, and I catch my own back to LA."

Sigh.

Working with other people was always hard, even more so when they come from such different backgrounds from Eric. And they were both so defensive!

Well, at least it would be interesting. If by interesting, you meant panic-inducing.

"I never got rid of Sancho, I just picked up a new stray. It's like O run a halfway house for those that don't fit in anywhere else. It's fun in a want-to-tear-your-hair-out kind of way."

He picked up his menu and tapped in on the table, rotating it with each tap. A little OCD, but whatever. "Whose door are we going to break down, exactly? Let me tell you, if we try that on the Slayer, we can forget about getting any information or help from the friendly forces in town. We'll be stuck with the nasty types, and I can only punch things for so long before my knuckles get too bloody and bruised to be of use. If we approach Buffy, you might want to do the talking and I'll play bad cop. Deitre, you could play silent gloomy back-up, you'd probably be good at that."

"Oh, and D isn't being a total asshole by not telling you about what brought him to town in the first place. I told him to keep it classified, take your ire out on me. I already know you have the hots for me, maybe that'll cut the anger a bit." He grinned widely and winked, then went back to playing with his menu. Repetative action helped him think better.

Hey now, Dietre was perfectly aware he was likely completely insane, but Eric didn't have to speak so casually about how he didn't fit in. He was sensitive about that enough already, and please don't imply you feel like tearing your hair out over him, Dietre is going to die of guilt over here! There was nothing he disliked more than being a burden to some one. But wasn't that the way he felt all his life, no matter who it was taking care of him at the time? Bah, for some one four years out of their teens you'd think he'd be over this whole 'teen angst' bullshit.

Dietre sunk down behind his menu, mumbling sullenly, "..No, I am not a total asshole..."

Not an asshole, but not very mature either. Luckily his obvious nervousness and discomfort tended to earn enough pity for people to forgive the rest of his faults. Sort of. Kind of.

"Who's angry? I'm hungry, and I want an explanation." Before he could bounce the menu again, Kate reached over and claimed it from Eric, resting it in front of her. She didn't leave him without something; she nudged the creamers over to stack - it was a little less distracting.

"Not so much about you," a glance over at Dietre, "that'll come later I'm sure. I want to know about this kid I met last night. If he wasn't of the bloodsucking variety, he was rather strong for a normal human. He lifted a shoplifter right off the ground, like Sancho might lift a squirrel. He might have shaken the guy too, but he got there before I did. Which by the way was odd. I ran out first, and I'm not that out of shape." She semiglared at Eric, almost daring him to make a comment.

"I say we start with....Willy's?" She gave a glance to the menu before nudging both away and pulling the sugar and sweetener packets towards her. Time to stack them. A quick glance at Eric, yeah, she'd done a little research.

"Criminal record, I take it." The ex-cop didn't look up from the packets she was working with - they weren't as easy to handle as a deck of cards. She was no doubt talking about Dietre, not the crazy she met earlier, and she wasn't exactly asking either.

Eric frowned as Kate took away everything he was fidgeting with. Not fair.

"If he did all those things, then he could still be a vampire. Just different from the ones who've taken over around here. Every vampire you ran into in LA came from the same origin, this vampire must have come from a different progenitor. That gives them different powers, different weaknesses. That's why we do have to talk to the Slayer - eventually. Knowing her, she'll probably already know. Maybe we should just stake out her house, see who's coming and going. Get some information from or about them."

He grabbd his menu back from in front of Kate and snapped it open, a bit obnoxiously. He flipped back and forth between the pages, as if he hadn't lookd through it just last night. "We can start at Willy's, the rougher element usually hangs out there. Actually, some old informants or Hostiles might be there later tonight. D, you could actually help with this one. You're good at the silent and listening thing, plus there are definitely some types that go for the young sad boy, thinking they're more vulnerable. Yea, this could work. Man, I could use a meal or three."

Eric ran his finger down the menu's selection of sandwiches. Steak, maybe. Yea, he could definitely go for that.

Dietre wasn't exactly sure who this 'Willy' person was, but it seemed that his two companions were in agreement about seeing him...or it...or...was it a person at all? Dietre was still a bit confused by Eric's apparent reluctance to seek the slayer out straight away. It was only natural, he had spent five years being trained for the day where he may be assigned a slayer after all.

"I...highly doubt she would harm us for asking questions..." Dietre making a passive attempt to re suggest they go straight up to her and ask. He only wanted to be helpful.

A blink, brows lifting briefly at Eric's explanation of D's usefulness. He didn't quite get it.

"..Uh..what types are these..?"

He was getting the impression he was going to be used as bait? Not that he had a real problem with that or anything..but what sort of bait was it? Bait for who? Food bait? Or uhm...other..things?

Squirm.

"The types that would find a moddish male sad and alone in the world...interesting." She shrugged; honestly, there were quite a few types that could be lured with that, and she had a feeling quite a few of those types could give them some answers.

"We don't want to head straight to Buffy because there's still some question of general reception. Of course, she probably wouldn't have too much problem with me, but smiley pants here might ruffle a few feathers?" She thumbed at Eric, just in case either of them was confused on who smiley pants might be.

She let the menu go, but at least he wasn't tapping it now. She winced a little at the stomach growl. She was hungry than she thought.

Eric looked over at the waitress, who gave him a 'Yea, I'll be there when I get there' look. Hey, at least he knew what he wanted to eat already.

"Yea, Buffy may not recognize me right off the bat, but as soon as I start talking she'll know I'm military. She's had....some bad experiences with my former associates. She would definitely clam up, if not try to hit us all. She's not what you would call a forgiving sort." He smiled, but there was no humor in it.

"She may not appreciate my sharp wit and sparkling personality if I'm too busy dodging blows to talk."

The waitress ambled her way over, and he smiled as she recognized him from last night. Holding out his menu, he said, "Hey, how're you doing? I'll have the steak sandwich with onions and mushrooms, a side of rice pilaf and an iced tea with no sugar. Thanks."

He handed the menu back to her and looked over at D, signaling him to order with his raised eyebrow.

Dietre finally understood Eric's hesitation on the 'Buffy' front (he hadn't known what her name was, only her location, which was remarkable enough given his neglect to anything but himself these past years). A tiny little idea was trying to form in his head. If the slayer would not speak to military, and would be uneasy with police...The logical conclusion was to have a watcher speak to her, no? Get Dietre a nice suit, polish him up, shove some occulty reference books under his arms and she'd be right at home. But, no, no. D couldn't see himself ever doing something like that. He could never convince her. Unless maybe they gave him a script to memorize.

Augh. He was better off with no sleep! That way he wouldn't be making up such foolish plans! The idea got him far more involved than he ever planned on being. And so he kept his mouth shut.

The boy was yanked from his thoughts by Eric's questioning glance. He had been too busy hiding behind the menu to actually have read it.

"Uh.." Words tumbling out in a flurry of embarrassment. "I-I'll have what he's having except with water instead, please, thank you.."

"Steak sandwich, no onions, fries, and Coke." They can do the semigood for you thing; Kate had the cop constitution, and one day it would all backfire, turn her into some rollypolly, maybe. Today, it kept her okay with foods high in fat and calories. Kate quickly handed back her menu.

"Yes, and it's the wit that gets you every time, I'm sure." She put the sugar packets away, color coding them. Hey, it was just nice to have them grouped together, and that was more or less how she had originally found them, seemed the nice thing to do.

"So, Willy's, bait here sits nice and pretty while we make with the watching and the questions? Might want to stop by the local occult shops, book or otherwise?" She took a quick sip of water, placing the glass in another spot. Her fingers started trailing through the water ring that was left behind.

Eric tapped his fingers on the table, frowning until he caught the rhythm of the song in his head. There, that was it.

"We can stop by the occult shops. They should be mostly closed for business, which actually suits our purposes far better. Only the owners and the die-hards will be there, which means maybe we can get some actual answers for once. Willy's will be open all night, so as long as D is up to it, we can try that avenue as well. Once we find out all we can that way, maybe then we can track down Buffy or her associates to trade information."

He watched Kate arrange the sweetener packets. Finally, someone as anal as he was....or was it OCD? He could never remember. No, OCD meant you would feel like if you don't follow the pattern, the world would explode or something like that. He wasn't quite that bad. Give it time.

Eric leaned back in his chair and yawned, stretching his arms out to the sides. He had caught a little bit of sleep, nothing like the time Dietre had put away in the guest room. Maybe he should have ordered some coffee with dinner.

"..I'll be up for it.." He didn't quite sound up for it, but then again, if you told Dietre to jump off a bridge there was an eighty five percent change he'd do it. Depends on how high the bridge is, but that can be bypassed depending on how much he likes you.

Without a menu to shield himself, Dietre was feeling a little over exposed. One, he was in a t-shirt and shorts, two, he was with strangers, three, he was in a public place...Oh, the list could go on...And so, of course, he was beginning to look quite dour. Spine taut, posture stiff, expression becoming more icy and grim as time passed. When D was uncomfortable and unhappy, that lost puppy look melted away and it was not quite as hard to believe he could be a killer.

He sipped at his complementary water, eyes averted, and though they were turned to the dark outside, it was obvious he wasn't looking at anything, he was somewhere inside himself instead.

Way to make dinner creepy and awkward, D.

05.07.07

Wed, 09 Jan 2008 02:21:45 GMT

So, this is what happens to an excop - to anyone not caught up in stuff
While everyone seemed busy doing the hunting for the big bads, there were those new to the “quiet” town who were focused on other ideas. Actually, not so much so, seeing as the other person was hunting a vampire who thought Sunnydale was now the new it place for the powers of darkness, or at least the vampires. He wasn’t exactly an ubervamp, just some idiot who thought it was a good idea to terrorize a poor family. Why he left L.A., the p.i. really didn’t care. She didn’t like leaving that family, but she wasn’t going to let this one get away from killing someone’s dad.

The drive was one of those all day things, seeing as the vampire had been out of town for at least two nights. She’d gotten into Sunnydale just as the sun was going down and headed to the best place to find information – a local demon bar. She didn’t even seem to care that she didn’t fit in; then again, carry enough guns and such, one forgets to care. Joey, Johnny, whatever the squirming weasel type behind the bar was named gave up the information on her current suspect’s whereabouts, and Joey/Johnny/whatever was happy that he wasn’t exactly beaten to a bloody pulp, just a little rough housing.

“Why do they always have to head to cemeteries? Think they’d be tired of the stereotype.” She was talking to herself, but at least she knew the conversation would be somewhat interesting? The blonde woman settled down to watch the cemeteries, giving the two hand guns a check, even checking the stake, knife, and holy water she had hidden at her hip, ankle and back respectively. Now she just had to wait; it was like some really screwed up stake-out, but this time she’d actually get to ace the bad guy. Her fingers played at the cross at her neck…it was her new badge, she supposed.

“Damn bitch. Can’t letta guy get a good day’s sleep, gotta be all trackin’. Think she’s some kinda Slayer or some shit. Think she’d let up. Left the fuckin’ family alone, didn’t I?” He had to do the bus all night, and he wasn’t very happy. Then again, who could be when they were stuck in the 80’s and hadn’t been lucky enough to get the cool punk or the slightly stylish, if it could be called that, prep. No, he got the fake Members Only Jacket with cuffed jeans and loafers. His hair looked rather stiff from too many styling products.

Upon actually getting into Sunnydale, he’d found a quick bite and hunkered down for a day’s rest before the next night’s partying. Of course, he had nothing on the really big bad guys, but he was going to cause some trouble, yessir. He was going to paint the town red, literally. That joke was good enough to keep him smiling as he got into the Sunnydale network. Yeah, time to par-tee.

The night had gone well enough, but as it grew on, he found some little hot mama who’d definitely make it worth his while. She had to be 18 at the max, and it was totally awesome the way she dug his gnarly vibes and shit. And she even liked Family Ties, who didn’t dig Alex P. Keaton? How this guy became the p.i.’s focus was anyone’s guess. Maybe he shouldn’t have chowed down on some poor cop and father of two kids who was on his way home from a late shift. He was really lucky that the foxy lady didn't mind going to a cemetery to make with the wild thing. Yes, the guy was indeed special, in that stupid sort of way.

He was sitting on a park bench, newspaper before him. But he wasn't reading it. No, it was merely a cover while he watched for Hostiles. Cliched, yes, but they became cliches because they worked.

He hadn't been in Sunnydale long, but he had already noticed a difference. The Hostiles were more wary than before, and not just because they had survived the Initiative. No, this was something more. There had been rumors of new creatures that didn't play by the same rules. Eric had tapped the resources he had used years before, and found them still willing to work with him. A Colt .45 usually was a good insurance policy to keep employees working for you.

He looked up a bit at the sound of footsteps and...was it giggling? He watched a man walk by with a woman in tow, headed for the cemetery. Must be a vampire, no one else brought dates to a graveyard. What he never understood was the simpering, insipid girls that agreed to it. They deserved their fate, if anyone did. The families being invaded by cover of night didn't do anything to deserve it, but girls who walked down dark alleyways and into cemeteries with questionable characters, that was a different story.

After they walked past, he snapped the paper shut and threw it out. He walked several steps down the concrete path leading away from the bench, then jumped onto the grass and walked back towards the couple silently on the grass. He pulled his gun out of the back of his pants and held it before him as he snuck up, step by step. He wanted to get a clear shot of the Hostile without taking out the girl...unless he absolutely had to.

The couple seemed rather engrossed in whatever bitchin' conversation they were having. Then again, the girl had never had gone out with someone who could actually remember when Mallory was the pretty one and Jen hadn't grown up. Well, no one who wasn't watching it on Nick at Night or something. Plus, he did have a very strange resemblance to Skippy, and she'd always thought Skippy was cute.

The vampire guided her from "club" to cemetery, nudging her further and further along. He didn't mind the screaming, but he really didn't want to be interrupted during such a tasty dinner. He didn't even notice the familiar car across the street, or the guy who had started to tail them.

"Yeah, I hated it when they brought the kid in. It was like he was their Cousin Oscar or somethin'."

The p.i. groaned softly; stupid girl and her really bad taste in men. She didn't get it really she didn't. She got out of her car, and before giving a quick look around, she pulled her own piece, safety on. She didn't like the idea that someone with a gun was after them. Hell, this was her collar anyway; this guy was just one of those random vigilante types? That'd make for an extra special night.

She followed as closely and as quietly as possible; where was they going anyway? It wasn't like the cemetery was any nicer as they got to the back, just older. And the smell of Old Spice covering slathered on in an attempt to cover death was not working. At that particular moment, she was very glad she wasn't one of the undead; heightened senses might have meant death by smell, or at least a wish for death by smell.

He heard the car door slam, and saw the woman step out with her gun. Dammit, what was this, amateur night? More vampire hunter, he didn't need. He wanted this guy alive so he could question him about what was going on in Sunnydale. Most of the minor demons he had spoken to didn't know much, only that more powerful Hostiles were invading and they were frightened. He was hoping the vampires knew more, and if this guy didn't, he could at least point Eric in the right direction.

He kept one eye on the rapidly approaching woman, and one of the vampire. He wanted to know what her deal was, but if the vampire attacked before she came close, he was taking his shot. No questions asked. Then he was going to remove this scum from the equation, and verbally beat some sense into the stupid bimbo who actually walked off with him. What a mess, total SNAFU.

80's boy stopped when he thought he heard something, but he was about to go way off the path of Skippy because Skippy never shoved a giggly girly into a wall and started making with the rough grinding action. The girl only seemed to giggle more as she was rough housed. Yes, that was exactly the way to get a vampire excited, giggle while he started to have his way with you.

Of course, the way to any dead guy's heart was what came next. He pulled back to give her a good look, soon going all bumpy and what not. The girl let out a scream to end all screams, or so one would think. She certainly had a set of lungs. The vampire loved the screaming and dug in, fangs straight for the neck.

The blond didn't wait to find out what the other guy would do; the girl was screaming - she needed help. She stepped out of the bushes and did what came by instinct.

"Freeze, police!" Yes, she even had a badge. What the hell was she thinking? This really wasn't her true gig, but someone had to stop him right? Someone had to make sure this guy didn't take kill any more innocences, even if they were slightly stupid innocencts.

Eric would have shaken his head over the stupidity of her action, but it did make the vamp turn his head away from the girlie's neck. He didn't pass up the opportunity, and took his shot. He really would have preferred to disable and then question the Hostile, but the blond took that decision away from him. All he could do was play the hand he was dealt.

He fired off one quick, accurate round that took the badly dressed bumpy face right above the eyes. He didn't think it was possible, but the stupid almost-victim screamed even louder. He was tempted to shoot her just to shut her up, but instead he held his temper and walked forward slowly but steadily. He noticed the woman walking forward as well, and held his tongue even more. He wanted to yell at her for being so stupid, but he wanted to take her measure first. She knew how to handle her weapon, that was for sure. He was also pretty sure she wasn't police....at least not anymore. The cops knew Hostiles were military concern, and shifted all cases away from their own to federal resources, who then turned them over to Special Ops.

Either way, this shit went down badly, and he was out one more informant. Granted, he would have killed this one when he was done with him anyways, but now he just needed to go find a new stool pigeon. Damn waste of time. He glared at the woman as he leaned over the screaming girl.

"Shut up and stand up. I know this was tough on you, but you should really know better. I mean, walking off with a total stranger? How dense do you have to be?! It's practically asking to be vampire bait. Now run along home and be a good girl." He didn't even look back as she stumbled off, just bent over the Hostile to search him for anything that would give him a lead.

The p.i. didn't let the girl get too far. She grabbed the girl by the arm and stared at her.

"Where'd you pick him up?" The girl just stared. "Where'd you pick him up!" More staring, followed soon by a fit of crying. The p.i. sighed, shaking her head. "Go home."

It would have been nice to know where the two had met, but there were probably very few choices. The blond focused on the other blond now, her fire arm settling in a point toward the ground. She didn't exactly reholster. With her free hand, she pulled the stake free. The damn thing might be down, but it wasn't exactly gone.

"I don't think he'll have his diner's club card on him, do you?" The gun moved up a little as if to say she was willing to use it and knew how, but it didn't mean she wanted to. Or maybe she did. "You just killed a man in front of a police officer. Think you really should be hanging around to turn out his pockets?"

"You're not a police officer," Eric said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. She would soon learn that he often spoke that way, as if he were right. Usually because he was. He preferred remaining quiet to saying something he wasn't absolutely sure of, and it had worked well for him thus far.

He pulled out the vamp's wallet, rifling through it. He found a business card with a hand-written number on it, and tucked it into his coat pocket. He also took a set of keys from the vamp's pocket, planning to trace the serial number on it. It wasn't a regular key, it was a Medeco restricted key, it could only be cut and duplicated by a limited number of registered specialists. This would give him something to go on.

He turned back towards the woman and said, "And this isn't a man, it's a vampire. They don't have the same rights as humans."

"What are you, some kind of vampire hunter? And, hand over the shit. You didn't know how he was; he's my collar, not yours, big guy." She didn't like this; some ass was about to take the only lead she had to the next guy? Or maybe she thought if she could bring something back to the family. She didn't know really, but there had to be some type of closure for them.

She crouched down slowly, the gun still slightly off to the side. Never aim unless you were willing to shoot; she didn't know why this guy knew so much about things that were supposed to exist. She shifted the stake in her hand and after pushing the body so that it was in the right way...which meant unfortunately she had to take her eyes off him for a moment, she buried the stake into the vampire's chest, into the heart. With that there was dust.

He raised an eyebrow at her words, and smiled. He sat back on his heels and watched her take out the vamp. Tenacious, but new to the tasks. She was definitely on a personal vendetta. She wasn't military, or he would know.

"I knew exactly what he was. I'm not a vampire hunter, I'm Special Ops. Even if you were a police officer, which you're not - or at least you're not on a case, because they all get passed up the line to the military - I still outrank you. I've spent a long time being trained for this, and you just picked up one day, something happened, I don't know, but you decided to hunt down vampires? You are out of your league, girl. Leave it to the professionals."

He never once raised his voice, never got angry. He was just completely in control. This was work, this was the job. He had no time or patience for amateurs.

"Girl, coming from someone who just rifled a long dead man's pockets and thinks he's what...James Bond? Special Ops, my ass. Maybe in Sunnydale these things get handed over, but he's from Lala Land. You so called Fedtypes all think those of us not exactly in the so called know are out of our league. Maybe if you didn't try to do the whole 'need to know' thing, you wouldn't have as much a problem, would you? Let me guess, you really don't care what this guy did. Just that he's something a guy like you takes care of."

She had once told a few of Angel's employees, coworkers, whatever that she was there for the innocents, the ones that all the bad guys and good guys forgot in their big battles and such. She still meant it. She wasn't exactly the yelling type either, not so much anymore.

"You white knight types are all alike. Couldn't give a damn about the innocents that these things hurt."

His eyes went cold, and he stood up, walking forward. She wanted to get in his face, fine, She would suffer the consequences.

Still in a flat tone, he said, "Don't ever presume to tell me what I think or how I feel. Ever. You know nothing. You think these Hostiles would be better off in the hands of regular civilians? In your hands? What would you have done if he had a partner who snuck up behind you? Do you know martial arts? Hand to hand combat? Mythical lore? Medical knowledge? There were plans to train a federal police force to deal with these things, but every city and very state has a different idea of what needs to be done. So it falls to the military, because no one can argue with them. I've had good friends die, taken down by the very things they hunted, fated to turn into the one thing they were trained to destroy. I've lived for years with the image of the faces of those I've taken down, the ones who used to be people. It's a job, and one that needs to be done. Not by you, not by some former police officer on a vengeance kick. By me. These things get handed over to us from all over the country, and we do them. No questions, no regrets. Because if we didn't, no one will. And you will end up dead if you don't learn to shut up, listen and think logically for once in your goddamn life."

He looked at her with a level gaze. "And don't think you're getting those things back until I get a chance to trace them. Trust me, once I see your 'case file', " the quotations were audible, he didn't believe her police officer story for a second, "the case will be mine anyways, so don't even bother. If you want any information, you're going to have to tease it out of me. I'm particularly susceptible to free meals and cigars."

She just stared. Frustration was certainly one of the stronger emotions she was experiencing; Feds were always the same. She looked away as if she were checking on the girl. She gave a soft sarcastic laugh.

"I've heard that before too. Funny, the only difference is, it came from someone a little older. And only a hint more self-righteous. I'm here for a family; that piece of...shit took a good man down. No one was going to give them justice; what could would your experimenting have done for his family? What good does your experiments do for all those people out there who have to wait or who have to just deal with it? Someone's got to look after them too." She sounded tired for a moment. The p.i. blinked at the last few words.

"Wait, I might be some poor cop...ex-cop, and so I might be a little slower than a quick, oh so well trained , even though possibly lacking in the bed side manner, Fed, but was that a round about way of getting me to ask you out for dinner? Do you normally try to find dates in cemeteries with gun-toting 'vigilantes'?"

"I'm sure he did make a mess; they usually do. That doesn't make what I do any less important, it just makes you feel better about yourself. You tell yourself your reasons are better than mine because you made them for yourself. I could have turned down this assignment, but I didn't. Because it does make a difference. And getting your so-called justice for the family doesn't bring back their loved one, and it's not what a good cop does. A good cop doesn't go hunting a perp on her own with no back-up, no game plan and no common sense. And I'm not a Fed, I'm Special Ops. Keep it straight."

He could tell she was frustrated, but she still hadn't learned to listen to someone else; she was too busy talking. One thin the military taught you was to stop and listen; it could mean the difference between life and death. If she was going to go around trying to kill herself in the process, he wasn't sure if he could stop her. But he was going to give it a try. Mainly by shocking and confusing her until she started to listen.

"I don't usually get dates in cemeteries, I stick to strip clubs and the internet, but I thought it was time for a change."

"Yeah, maybe that's the problem; I wasn't exactly the best cop." The gun was reholstered now if it hadn't been before; the empty hand lifted to brush through golden strands. "No, I'm a good cop. I'm a bad vigilante." There was a weak smile as she looked down at the hint of dust still there on the ground.

"I'm a damn good detective," she stepped towards him. "So you're Special Ops? Able to take down a vampire with a single shot? Do you normally go it alone? Told your back up to stay...back? Mm, you might be military, but even you wouldn't go after a...Hostile alone. An unknown variable, you expected to take him in all on your own?" She gave him a once over; there was a hint of a smile.

"I need drink. And I could use something to eat. I suppose we could share declassified war stories over both. That or some slightly witty banter that I believe they call flirting." She shook her head slightly at herself; she was picking up someone in a cemetery?

Eric smiled. "Concerned about me now? Two minutes ago you were ready to shoot me."

He turned his head and gave a series of soft whistles. A white Great Dane emerged from the park and trotted up to his side. He ruffled the dog's ears, who grinned up at him with his tongue out the side of his exceptionally large mouth.

"This is Sancho. He's my back-up, and more protective than my mother. He's very well trained, responds to numerous sounds and words to restrain a suspect. We're partners, I guess you'd say. I'm Eric Wolfe, and I graciously accept your offer of a date. I would also like to know your name, since I think you'd get offended if I keep calling you 'girl', 'woman' or 'cupcake'. Though I'm sure I could get used to calling you cupcake, it strangely suits you. I'll even introduce you properly to Sancho, so he knows never to tackle you and to leave it to me."

"Concerned? 'Curious' is a better word. That, and shooting you wasn't exactly part of the plan. Yes, there was a small plan forming. So you did tell your back up to stay back." The smile flashed before her eyes dropped to the dog. She didn't exactly stick her hand out to be sniffed, just looked from canine to man.

"Kate Lockley. Surprised you didn't throw a rank in there, Eric Wolfe. And Sancho's government sanctioned or just a perk?" She glanced back down at the dog. "Do they teach that in Special Ops? Making moves on women, or is that a natural gift?"

Straight-faced, he replied, "My rank is classified, can't tell you. I shouldn't have even told you I was Special Ops, but I thought you might eventually beat it out of me so I volunteered it first."

He stroked his hand down Sancho's back, glad for the upteen millionth time for the dog's companionship and aid.

"Sancho wasn't part of the military program, for the most part. His mother was my dog growing up, and after I completed Basic my mom sent me Sancho to train, since she couldn't keep two dogs. I started to adapt my military training to his training, and pretty soon he was accompanying me to work so my coworkers could see I wasn't lying my ass off about his intelligence and capabilities. When they saw it working, they actually assigned us to places together, and made special allowances for us as long as I promised to breed him and screen the puppies for further pairing with officers."

He patted his thighs, and Sancho placed his paws on them. That made his head on a level with Eric's, so he proceeded to lick it all over. Sancho knew the danger was past and he could be silly and affectionate again. Kind of like his owner that way.

Eric shoved him off and wiped his face on the hem of his shirt. "Didn't you know, flirting is a required course for Special Ops? Might save your life someday. But for the most part, it's all God-given skill you're seeing here, the training just helped me master it." His face gave nothing away but his eyes let slip a hint of the laughter he held inside. This was more fun than he ever expected the night to turn out.

Kate listened, head tilted slightly in that I don't believe it sort of way. A Great Dane who had an intelligence and had been allowed to accompany his owner elsewhere? There was a slight shake of her head as she just couldn't believe it fully; the military was getting rather liberal in the special operations department.

"Well, I can see where it could come in handy; you never know what sort of person you might meet out on the mission. Did they train you for male and female training? Or just using disarming charm with the female contigent?" She couldn't help the slight smile.

"Right, well, I need to find a place to pass out soon, so I'm not certain how good of a conversation you'll get from me today. We good-cops-gone-bad don't get much sleep on our self appointed journeys of revenge and such."

"Oh they trained me to charm the pants off of anyone, regardless of gender or sexual preference. It's all a matter of good taste and quick wit. Of course, having six pack abs helps too." He shrugged. "What can I say, I was taught to use every advantage at my disposal to remain in control of the situation. It's worked so far."

He gestured with his arm towards the right, motioning for her to begin walking. Sancho trotted behind happily, confident that wherever they were going, there would be food for him. "There are one or two hotels in town that aren't bad, and a few places to eat. I've already got a place to stay, but I'll be more than happy to show you around, if you'd like...and I know you would."

"You know I would? Let me guess, trained in that too. No, I think I'll take a few names and addresses for now; maybe look around on my own. Not that I'm saying "no" to treating you to dinner. Some girls actually can take care of themselves." Her hands slid into her pants pockets as they headed out of the cemetery.

"Used your training often?" Kate didn't mind the forward attitude, but it'd been a while since she actually accepted being picked up, much less since a guy tried. The last guy who seemed worth it had been a vampire, which hadn't turned out so well. She turned attention to him, staring almost. This guy was coming on strong. "Hold on, what is your angle? Last guy trying this hard to pick me up was just trying to save my life; wasn't even interested in me."

He filed that all away for future reference. She was very defensive and really did have a very suspicious nature...she sounded like some of the people he used to work with in the Initiative....maybe there was hope for her yet!

"You're right, I'm not interested in you as a very attractive female. I merely want to convert you to the Church of Jesus Christ and Latter Day Saints. Don't buy that? Umm.....it's because I need a female sacrifice for my Santeria rituals, I'm trying to buy some luck so I can win the lottery and retire. Not buying that either huh?"

Now that he had completely confused her, he said softly, "Maybe I'm just astounded that of all things to run into in Sunnydale, I managed to run into a woman who can handle a gun, doesn't take anything at face value, and thinks I'm out to get her for some secret nefarious purposes - other than getting into your pants, that would be too obvious. You're paranoid, obstinate and too pretty for your own good. Obviously, we must be soul mates."

Kate had listened, almost like she would to anyone full of shit. Just a stare and a nod now and then. It always seemed to work before, so why not now?

"Yes, who's to say I'm not after what you've got in your pants?" A beat or two. "Or did you put that creep's things somewhere else? I mean, a girl could be curious."

They were now outside the cemetery, and she looked over at her car. It certainly looked well traveled - it needed a good cleaning and then some. She didn't exactly say anything just turned and looked back at the dog that was trailing them.

"He won't make a mess, will he?" She stared down at the dog. "Will you, Sancho? If he's my soul mate, you're the soul mate's dog, and let's face it; you have a lot of work to do. Then again, so do you," said to the so-called soul mate.

"He's far better behaved than I am, I assure you. Plus, he doesn't wear pants, so I have to carry all the loot. It's a burden, but I can handle it. I may even show you my badge if you show me yours."

When Kate opened the back door, he clicked his tongue twice and Sancho climbed up into the back seat, plopped his butt down on the seat and put his head down on his paws. Both Eric and Sancho looked at Kate with pleading eyes, but Eric spoke for both of them (since the dog had not yet mastered language - though he tried).

"Can we go somewhere that hamburgers are?"

When she sighed and nodded, Eric climbed into the front seat and stretched his legs out under the dashboard. Nodding his head towards the massive puppy dog in the back, he said, "He also takes being collared much better than I do. I prefer to hold my own leash. But I'm willing to explore making exceptions"

The engine fought the turn over once or twice before if finally gave in and got going.

"I know, baby; I'll get you an oil change soon." She patted the dashboard then roll her eyes. "I'm not as crazy as I sound, well, not quite. And got plans to be collared and leashed?"

The directions were taken easily enough, and sometime along the way, her hand had reached back to give the four-legged dog a slight scratch to the side. She wasn't a cat or dog woman; she was just someone who hadn't had the time to cultivate a liking.

"Or, is that yet another com'on? Collars, leashes, pants...and you know I don't exactly have a badge. Have a license, but not a badge. What you do with for a living was more or less what got me fired. Or my obsession for it." A slight roll of blue eyes as she turned the corner and drove into the parking lot.

Eric wiggled his butt in the seat. Not the most comfortable of chariots, but it got them where they needed to go.

"I don't really have a badge either, that was a lie. I do have a nifty ID card with high clearance, but again - show you, have to kill you thing. This is the cheaper hotel in town, you should be able to get a room here pretty reasonably without it being too shitty. Here's my cell number if you need me...for anything."

He handed her his card, the mulled over her last words. Then he leaned back in the seat and said, "And I would love to get the whole story about that, perhaps over that dinner you promised me? Sancho can chaperon us, if you're afraid I'll be too forward."

Her brow lifted at the offering of the card and the implication that they weren't eating tonight. She leaned back to watch him for a moment, a peek at Sancho.

"Oh, oh. I thought...oh." She took the card and read it, habit more than anything. "Thought we were going to eat. And that would efinitely explain why there's no real resturant sitting in front of us right now. Right." She put the card away and looked at secret agent man.

"Well, we could still grab something to eat. Then when I decide if I'm staying in Sunnydale, I mean there has to be something worth staying here for, you can take me to see a few of the nice places. But don't worry. Maybe yo

That brought a big, genuine smile to Eric's face.

"Good, I was hoping you felt that way. I'm really hungry, and Sancho will eat me if I don't feed him soon. Plus, I really do want to know how you ended up a cop, and then ended up here. I just thought you might want to check into a hotel, maybe get rid of me if I was annoying you too much. Thought I'd give you the option. No going back now, you're stuck with me for the night."

A bark came from the backseat, and Eric reached back to scratch his neck.

"See? Even the dog thinks we all make a good team. I can tell you all I'm allowed about my former operation in Sunnydale, and you can feed me dead cow until I'm sated into a coma and susceptible to brainwashing."

"Deal?"

"Then again, Sancho could simply be eager for dinner, and I don't blame him. He might be tired of being around me. Or you could be trying to lull me into believing you're really nothing but someone after my pants and what's in them before you kill me or use me as some sacrifice. Not that I'd make a very good one." Was that a hint? She reached back and touched Sancho's side again, giving it a pat.

"Okay, I'll check in; you can come with. Or stay here. And then we'll go do the burger thing." She did like the Great Dane; yeah, like he didn't have the dog along to help out with his little pick up scam. She nudged the door open and got out of the car, stretching. Hey, she was in pretty good shape.

Eric unfolded himself from the car seat and closed the door firmly after him. Sancho looked eager to be let out, but Eric snapped his fingers and said, "Shmor!" When he heard that, the dog jumped into the front seat and sat up straight, baring his teeth. He knew how to be a good watchdog, and anything that big with that many visible teeth scared off pretty much all carjackers.

He watched her stretch but didn't react. Instead he assured her, "Oh if I wanted to kill or capture you, I could have done it long ago. Not that you're not in shape or can't fight back, but that's my job. So I must be after something else, preferably dinner and a conversation, but I'll accept some sweaty rolling around if that's what you're offering. Either way, I hope food is involved."

"I can help carry your stuff if you'd like," he said as watched her open the trunk. When she pulled out one small duffel bag and hiked it over her shoulder, he added, "Or not."

"I could use a good sparring partner, but sweaty rolling isn't exactly on this trips agenda." Not yet anyway. "Then again, I don't even know how long this trip will last." The duffel said as much.

She walked into the hotel and, by nature, started sizing up the lobby, people, things, places. Oh, it probably wasn't as expert a job as Eric's might be, but it wasn't a bad one either. Better to know where, who and what than be clueless, which was what she was earlier..moving on. The excop took a lean against the counter and waited for the desk clerk. The whole process didnt' take long, and yes, she did pay with cash. Sometimes it was easier that way; then again, sometimes she was just under her limit and didnt' want to push her luck. Damn, she needed a new job.

"I'd ask you to stay down here, but I have a feeling you could find out what room I was in anyway. A girl can never be to cautious, what with so many bad guys running around these days." Nights. The smile though suggested she was only teasing. "Com'on."

It was a short trip, and she didn't exactly let them stay long. Just a quick check on the room, what it looked out on and all that, then they were heading back down to the car where Sancho was no doubt doing a great job at guarding.

Tue, 08 Jan 2008 23:01:20 GMT

Coffee time - open to Kate and Eric.
Slipping the keys from the Magic Box into her bag, Dawn then pulled out her cell phone and dialed Giles. She left him a message warning him not to come to the Magic Box for a couple of hours, and hoped that he wouldn't be worried - or mad. And that Anita and her... friends would clean up after doing whatever it was they were going to do.

Although she really didn't want any part of that, it made her feel kind of lonely.

Glancing up at the sky, where the sun was already a considerable height above the horizon, Dawn sighed and headed to the Espresso Pump. They'd never managed to get food on the way and she could use a massive coffee. At the counter, she ordered a large mocha and a slice of coffee cake, then took her goods to a window seat. Propping up her head with the heel of her hand, she drained almost half the cup instantly.

People who gave up caffeine were crazy.

They hadn't exactly had their dinner. In fact, they stood at the door to her room for a very long time; witty banner that would be better called flirting kept the two from making a quick parting, much less eating dinner. Eventually they were soon leaning against the doorjambs, just a reach and a pull away from a kiss - or maybe just a lean in. As much as Kate could have used a good tumble, she wasn't about to start something - she really wasn't a one night stand kinda girl. Not with knowing what was out there. So, she ended the night with the promise of going out in the morning for breakfast and site-seeing. As if Sunnydale really had something. That was why the excop and soldierboy were found walking toward the locally popular Espresso Pump just after sunup.

"Well, did you get any sleep last night? Or, this morning?" There was a hint of a smile as she gave him a quick side glance. "Or do you and Sancho sleep?" Where was that dog anyway? Probably trotting along right behind them.

Eric wore a self-satisfied smile. He was used to running on little to no sleep, basic training is a good preparation for that and living with mercenaries kept him up. The uninterrupted 4 or 5 hours last night felt like heaven. Not as good as sleeping fewer hours next to the pretty PI would have, but he'd take what he could get. At least she was meeting him for breakfast.

But really, waking up to big drooling dog just didn't compare. And since they never got to eat last night, both the dog and the man were starving. He stopped at a convenience store and bought Sancho some Slim Jims to tide him over, then left him in the park and told him to stay unobtrusive. Not in those words really; it was more along the lines of "Ghost, Sancho."

He winked at Kate and said, "I got a few hours, it was a nice change. No one trying to shoot me, no one trying to kill me. Just nice dreams of a girl who promised to meet me for breakfast. Not quite the same as making you breakfast, but it'll pass."

They walked down the street towards a coffee shop, full of commuting adults and one teenage girl. She was staring out the window wistfully and drinking a rather large coffee. She looked familiar somehow, and he kept an eye on her as they walked in and perused the menu.

Then it hit him.

"Oh, hell." He caught Kate's eye as she reacted to the exclamation and he took advantage of the opportunity to lean in and whisper in her ear. "That girl by the window is the Slayer's baby sister. If we want to get information about what's going on in this town without beating the hell out of demon after demon, that's who we need to work." He smiled and laughed, presenting the image of a loving couple sharing secrets to the rest of the coffee drinkers. "How do you want to approach this?"

Kate stiffened at first as he leaned in, but the words caught her attention; she easily relaxed a little, fitting into the image that she imagined they were portraying rather easily. She turned enough, body lightly pressing to his; just a soft kiss near his lips hid the quick glance to make sure she knew exctly which girl. Her voice stayed low; body stayed close.

"Does her sister look as...she doesn't look like the sister of some Chosen one." Yes, Kate had certainly done a good bit of researching back in LA. You could find almost anything in some of those book stores.

"I say we go over there and find out why she's not in school. Though this close body thing isn't going to work as well as two buddies doing coffee." Another smirk was flashed. "Unless you want to come off as just curious and not creepy child molestor..ish?"

Her body hadn't exactly moved from Eric's, not yet anyway. It was nice and strong, and very distracting. Ah! Saved by the counter type.

"I'll take a large coffee, black, and a bagel." Yes, saved by a "healthy" breakfast.

"And I'll take a large peppermint tea, no sugar, and a bagel, thanks so much."

He smiled at the man behind the counter, and moved over so the next person could order.

He slid his hand onto Kate's lower back, thoroughly enjoying the charade by now. He spoke quietly, looking her in the eye.

"Trust me, the Slayer doesn't look dangerous or impressive either but she could easily take me down despite my training. Part and parcel of the whole Slayer bit. She may not be the Chosen, but she's bound to at least know what's going on."

He angled his body so they could both see her without looking like they were staring at her. Plus, this way he got to stand even closer, close enough to smell her hair. What was it about women's hair, anyways, that made men into sappy hornballs?

"This way, we look like a concerned couple. Maybe we're thinking of having kids and therefore want to look out for the youngster all alone at a coffee shop on a school day. We're less suspect as knowing who she is and targeting her, more friendly young couple seeing themselves in a young girl and feeling parental. We'll get as much information as we can before she gets suspect, but we can't lie to her. That could only end up bad, like checked into the hospital bad."

He bravely resisted the urge to nuzzle his nose in her hair, but it was close.

"No, nothing about children. She's too old to want to be treated as a child." She gave him a look as he only got closer; there was some little perverse need to tease him the way he stood. The excop snuggled back into him; her hand dropped to lightly play at his side and chest a little, just touching those muscles...Okay, so they were a very ahem loving couple.

"We could still seem concerned. Would hate for a kid to get in trouble..then again, she could just be like we were at her age. Crazy and rebellious?" Though they weren't exactly cutting the most crazy and rebellious figures were they? There was a flicker of tongue over her lips, just a little wetting.

"Or were you the straight laced little boy?"

"All right, we'll take the concerned reformed-bad boys take then. Let her know how skipping school is just a bad precedent to set, blah blah blah."

He watched her mouth as she talked, couldn't help himself. Then he kind of shook his head to clear it out before answering her question.

"Oh, I got into my share of scrapes as a kid. Breaking windows with baseballs, sneaking out to see girls, trying to build a nuclear reactor in the barn, that kind of stuff."

He reached around her back and grabbed the tray with their food off the service counter. "Do you want to grab the check while I go sit down next to her and start a conversation? You did promise me a meal."

He beamed a smile at her and watched her walk to the counter, admiring her backside. Very nice. Then he carried their tray to the table next to Dawn's and waved his fingers at Kate. Way to set the scene.

He took a sip of his tea and looked over at Dawn. She had some great looking cake on her plate. So he decided to use that as his opening.

"That cake looks absolutely delicious, does it taste as good as it looks?" He smiled at her and took another sip of his tea, waiting to see how she reacted before saying anything else.

With half a giant mocha in her system, and several bites of a sugar-packed coffee cake, Dawn was feeling much better. Not so much like someone had wiped the floor with her - maybe just a corner. She took another swig of coffee and checked the time on her phone, wondering when Anita and her friends would be... done.

But she wasn't going to think about that.

Luckily, she was interrupted by someone's voice, asking if the cake was good. She blinked in surprise, looking up - she hadn't expected to see anyone she knew - and she didn't. A total stranger, smiling kindly down at her. Was he a demon or just creepy? Or completely clueless?

"Yeah, it's good," she shrugged. "Y'know, coffee and coffee, goes well together."

He smiled at her like her comment made complete sense. Didn't anyone give a straight answer around here? Of course not, this was Sunnydale. One thing he hadn't missed about this place....

"Yes, I would assume so....seeing as how they're both coffee flavored." He took another swallow of his own tea. "I never really got the attraction of coffee - other than the caffeine rush. It tastes burnt, like someone scorched it. I guess it's one of those flavors you have to get used, but why bother getting used to it?"

He looked at back and forth from his watch to Dawn's face. "It's after 9 am. Hasn't school started already, or are you playing hooky?" He lifted his cup back up to his lips and smiled over the top at her.

"She could be out on good behavior," Kate butted into the conversation. Though technically it wasn't too much so, he was her breakfast date. Her hand slid along the back of Eric's shoulders, a light rake of nails before she settled into a seat nearby.

"Ignore him; he's awful in the morning until he gets his Earl Grey. Or is it Darjeeling this week?" She settled to take a sip of her own coffee before she started in own her own bagel and spread. There was a definite smile on her lips.

Resisting the impulse to roll her eyes, which would be rude in front of people you'd just met, Dawn watched the woman's hand slide along her companion's back. Was the whole world mocking her this morning?

"Maybe your coffee was burnt," she suggested, propping her chin in her hand and looking at them both with mild apathy. Who were they anyway, a couple who saw a teenager out of school and decided to do some damage control? She didn't need a freaking Welcome Wagon.

Oh, yeah, school. She'd forgotten about that, what with the mind-control guy and Angelus and Anita and all of that. In the face of mass murder, school looked a little inconsequential. But what could she say? Why bothering going to school if a psychotic vampire is going to kill everyone you love anyway? Probably not.

"I have late arrival," she lied.

"Right....late arrival. Amazing the things schools are doing these days."

He bit into his bagel and swallowed before turning to Kate and saying, "It's peppermint herbal tea today, actually. I was sick of black teas after the past few weeks. Plus they stain your teeth if you drink them constantly." He laid his arm along the top of her chair, resting his palm on her shoulder. Hey, might as well milk this for all it was worth.

"Does late arrival mean late departure? After all, students all need the same amount of time in class. Unless you're on some sort of accelerated program. Your family must be so proud of you." Yea, he was being a little bit of a dick, but what else could he do? he knew full well what her family situation was, but a random stranger wouldn't...so he couldn't avoid the subject.

"I apologize for him. He isn't sure what to do when not working, and unfortunately, you fall victim to his 'let's help the damsel in distress' fault. Of course, as you can see, and as I told you, she has everything under control." Kate shook her head, biting down into the bagel. There was a thoughtful chewing at she watched the young woman.

Kate didn't know much about the Slayer. The books had mentioned Chosen Ones, vampires, the normal supernatural mumbo jumbo. But they didn't exactly say anything about the person, the girl. If Dawn were anything like her sister...

And as if it hit her.."Peppermint? May I?"

"Sure!" He handed the cup over to Kate. "See? I share."

"Congratulations," Dawn deadpanned. Maybe it was cliche, to be the typical moody teenager, but she was lacking in sleep, there was an Apocalypse coming up and she seemed to be the only singer person on the face of the planet. Life seemed to be conspiring against her today.

"Actually, if you've taken the classes you need to graduate, you don't need as many periods as other people." She shrugged. "And I dropped calculus." Which wasn't a lie. AP Chemistry was enough accelerated classes for her senior year.

She avoided the family bit. Yeah, her mom probably wouldn't like her dropping a class, but Dawn had enough 'extracurricular activities' and she didn't think it was worth taking the class just to fail. Besides... Joyce was dead.

"Yeah. Thanks," she said to the blonde. "Under control, that's me."

She claimed the drink, just a little sip. Well, it wasn't bad, but her buds had been slightly killed by downing the usual precinct coffee. Probably the reason soldierboy avoided it; it really was the better way to go.

"Yes, how often are you going to use the derivative of sine anyway?" She gave Eric a smile - hey, she had her smarty pants moments. "And now you know she's not some strange girl waiting for something even stranger. Now be nice." Kate gave Dawn an apologetic smile.

"I am nice!" Eric insisted. "Really! And you'd be surprised how useful geometry can be. But that's not really the point...."

He rubbed a hand along the back of his head and smiled sheepishly. "We just.....well, this is Sunnydale. Strange things happen here. Can you blame me for wanting to make sure this young girl, all alone, wasn't going to run into any trouble? I would have offered my help then. I can be very helpful, you know."

"It's like, nine in the morning," Dawn pointed out, raising her eyebrows slightly. This was both annoying and weird. "And we're in a crowded coffee shop. What sort of strange thing could happen?"

Well, she could name a dozen or so, but then again, most people didn't have a Slayer for a sister, a couple of witches for housemates and a vampire for a babysitter.

"A couple of blonds walk up to you, and one asks you if you're in need of assistance while the other just shakes her head wondering 'why' just like you are?" She nodded slightly, taking another bite of her bagel. The excop leaned back a little to watch the other two.

"Then again, that probably isn't all that strange, just annoying." There was a glance at Eric. He really was an interesting fellow.

He stuck his tongue out at Kate, then sighed into his tea. She was being difficult and not helping, and somehow he wasn't surprised.

"Let's see, what could happen in crowded coffee shop....if it was regular suburbia, you could be taken hostage by someone holding the place up, or followed into the park and snatched by a kidnapper, or run over by a car, or any number of extraordinary events that rarely but could happen."

He sipped his tea again, took another bite of bagel and continued, "But since Sunnydale is a bit different - and I think you know all about that - the possibilities get endless and endlessly scarier." He looked at her hard. "And since something is bothering you, that increases the statistics that you know of something happening that could or will effect you. Since we're not personally involved, and we're both more than capable of taking care of ourselves, I thought we could help. But sure, a 16-year-old high school student can handle it. No problem. I'll just enjoy my bagel. Mmmm cream cheese."

He took another bite and raised his eyebrow. "Or am I completely off base here? It would be a first for me, so please let me know."

"Seventeen, actually," Dawn pointed out, resisting the urge to roll her eyes into her mocha. After taking a big swig of the massive coffee, she looked back at the couple. Not only were they obnoxiously affectionate, they were also kind of creepy. Like, in an overly perceptive kind of way. They were probably demons for sure.

"Y'know, this kind of reminds me of those crime shows about human trafficking," she said matter-of-factly. "Some normal looking people come up to a girl, all concerned, and then poof-" she made an outward-burst gesture with her hands, "nobody sees her again. Crazy, huh?" She raised her eyebrows, looking at them over her drink, letting them know exactly how smooth she thought they were.

Kate laughed softly, looking from hero to not so victim. She leaned back in her chair watching the two before leaning forward.

"Actually, it isn't all that crazy; the problem is we don't seem all that normal, do we? And you're a little smarter and certainly not as helpless as a girl who might get involved in said trafficking." She took a sip from her coffee, wincing a little. "Plus, it's the morning hours, nice and sunny outside; the big bads usually only hit at night, don't they?"

She took a bite from her bagel, definitely taking a moment.

"He really does think something's bugging you; what he won't believe is that it's as simple as not having a date to the prom or maybe some sibling stuff."

He smiled wryly, acknowledging the hit. Why is it that women always bonded by trashing the guy nearby? Though as 'trashing's went, this wasn't bad at all. At least he came out looking sensitive, caring and only a little bit creepy....definitely an improvement over creepy pedophile. Which he was not. Assuredly not. But coming over to talk to a high school girl without Kate would have made him look like one. Thank God for small miracles.

"Well, let's face facts. You wouldn't ever had a problem getting a date for the prom, and your sister is more than capable of handling herself. So it must be something else, maybe something we can help with."

He wanted to see if she'd pick on the references to her particular situation, if she'd realize he - well, they - were more than just some crazy couple bugging her for no reason. Plus....he was getting bored and his tea was cold. It was time to move things along.

"Shows how much you know," Dawn snorted, rolling her eyes, but just then, a cold, sinking feeling spread through her belly. Except they did know... Sunnydale was a small town, but not small enough that everyone who saw her would think, "there goes Dawn, the girl with the weird superhero sister". Strangers definitely didn't.

"I didn't ask for help," she said coldly. Then, raising an eyebrow, "How do you know I have a sister?" This was definitely not of the normal. She set down her mug slowly, preparing to bolt if necessary. Big Bads usually struck at night, it was true, but anything stupid - or strong - enough to strike in broad daylight wouldn't hesitate to take out an entire coffee shop.

The excop took one more bite of her bagel, one more sip of her coffee, before she nudged it away. She chewed for a moment, watching the two. There was a slight brow raise at Dawn's question - now how, oh how, was Bond going handle that one?

Kate opted for looking nonchalant; it was a habit from the interrogation room. Let one cop talk while the other is just there for "moral support" - supporting the suspect/witness sometimes, sometimes the partner. Kate certainly looked like she was capable of taking down some big brute who got a little too aggressive during questions, but she also looked like she had change for a needed coffee and a tissue for any tears.

Eric folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair, hoping it woduln't tip over and make a total fool out of him.

"How do I know you have a sister? Let's just say I'm an old friend of an ex of hers. I try to keep up on old acquaintances, see what they're up to...so I recognized you. And from what I know of your sister, if she's not currently in trouble, she's about to get into it or just getting herself out of it. And maybe you're feeling a bit neglected, a bit out of the loop. Well, here are two people interested in you. Talking to you. Ok, maybe scaring you a little, but we're not ignoring in favor of your sister or her friends. You're pretty observant, you probably have a better grasp of what goes on here than some of them. Why wouldn't we want to talk to you?"

His poker face was ruined by a loud stomach gurgle. Sighing, still hungry, Eric got up to get another bagel. He figured Kate would take the opportunity to work her angle on the kid, answer questions and get information by being the friendly one.

It's kind of creepy when the guy says he's a friend of an ex of Buffy's. Usually when people know Buffy's ex-anything, it's not good news. I raise an eyebrow, although my hand tightens around my mug. I can't fight them, but I can run. And yell. Really loud.

"An ex? Angel? Or Riley?" He doesn't seem like the type to be friends with Angel. No, he's really more of the military-style kind of guy. I wonder what that makes the woman with him.

I watch him go as he gets up and walks to the counter, then look at the woman, eyebrow still raised. "Do you guys really think I'm a complete idiot? You two don't even know me, and all of a sudden you're oh-so-concerned with my well-being? The only reason you'd be interested in me would be to get information from me."

I really hope I'm right and I just didn't totally insult them. But me and Riley have never been close, so it's not like he'd send a friend to check up on me. Buffy, maybe. Me? Hah.

"Sadly, I don't know names. For all his spookiness, he's not exactly overly top secret boy, is he?" She leaned forward, then stood and took up the closer chair.

"I don't think you're an idiot. I think you're covering for something, and you might not want to be. I'm better at this in an interrogation room; not overly much for the whole vice thing. Give me up front witty banter of suspect, or witness, and cop." There was a slight smirk. "He wants to know what's going on with your sister; I just want to know what she's like. I've only heard a thing or two about her..kind."

She leaned back, watching her.

"That and I think he's looking for something to fight. Guys like him can't go long without being heroes, even if they say otherwise." She'd known a few in her time.

"Spooky?" Dawn laughed, tossing back her head and rolling her eyes. She was probably being a little disrespectful to the adults, but people had to earn her respect - they weren't just granted it automatically. "Yeah, if you mean in like a 'tie you to a chair and bluntly interrogate you' kind of way."

She took another sip of her mocha, noticing sadly that it was almost gone. If they were going to interrogate her, they might as well buy her a drink. Wasn't that what guys did in bars and stuff? Sort of a similar situation.

"Yeah, I'm covering for something. My freaking family! When someone comes up out of nowhere and asks if I need help, I'm sorry, but I don't exactly think 'good Samaritan', I think 'someone who's trying to get to Buffy through me' and that's not really trustworthy, is it?" She paused. Maybe these people really did want to help. But they weren't exactly going about it the right way.

"Anyway, if you want to know something about my sister, ask her yourself. I'm not her PR."

"You know, it's sad. I remember when I was your age, and it wasn't that long ago; but, the world has changed enough that you can act this way and people think nothing of it. People are allowed to be total asses because they no longer respect police officers." Hand up. "Not that the police have helped out with that one."

She shifted on the chair, leaning back a little as she watched Dawn. A slight nod. She actually smiled at the last bit.

"Look, I'm not going to babysit you, nor am I going to sit here and coddle you. You grew up with this shit; that's how it is. It must suck. I'm not here to get at Buffy either...didn't even really know her name was Buffy. What kind of name is that anyway?" She sighed, shaking her head slgihtly. "I'm sure she gets that one too...Anyway, you need help? I'm here. It's what I do. It's how I'm wired; how he's wired." A tilt of her head back to Eric - he might be special ops guy, but he felt very much hero guy too.

"Let's try this...Name's Kate Lockley; you look like you could use an unbiased ear." She offered her hand and a slight smile.

Dawn shrugged. "Police officers are still people. It doesn't make them exempt from like, societal norms and stuff." Then, thinking it might've been rude, even if she was in an increasingly cranky mood and they weren't being exactly nice either - "I mean, sorry."

She swished the coffee around the bottom of the mug, looking at it sadly. Her allowance didn't stretch enough to keep her as well-supplied with coffee as she'd like. Being a Slayer's sister should totally be a paying job. It was difficult enough.

"Dawn Summers," she said warily. "Look, I appreciate the offer and all, if you're being sincere, but isn't this kind of random? I mean, we didn't ask for help. Unless there was like, a memo I didn't get. That kind of happens a lot, I mean, metaphorically. But you don't know us, just of us, so why do you think you can help us? And with what, exactly?"

"Mm. No big really. You're on the defensive; we come into your territory, we make assumptions about you..it's bound to happen. But, what more could you really expect? People don't come with ...okay, some do come with introduction letters, letters of reference, whatever else might be thought of for proper meetings. But, that's just not normal in life. This is only as random as the world is. Which is damned so, if you ask me." She smiled slightly, giving Eric a small wave to add two more coffees to his order - or more a point to the two of them, giving the universal sign of "more drinks".

"What can we do for you in the plural sense? Have no idea. What I can do for you might be easier to get a fix on. I can maybe get him to back off. Now, that's a big maybe because I really just met the guy - yes, just. I could give you someone normal to talk to. Hey, I was a cop, detective actually, not anymore. They thought I went all Mulder on them." She had, somewhat. "I could just exist, which sometimes helps. And I could call the local truant and get your ass into trouble, which might be something you need. You might be on your way to growing up, but you're not there yet. It sucks ass, it's a pain, it's mournfully wrong. But, you are still a minor, I'm willing to bet. I don't know what your sister does as far as being a sister goes, but if she's anything like what I would expect from a popular - not in the best sense this time - and busy young woman, then you are probably not getting what you need...though..why haven't we brought up your mother?"

She looked back over her shoulder at Eric then back at Dawn, brow raised. Shit.

"Because she's dead," Dawn said coldly. The loss of her mom was still raw and painful, a wound tender enough on its own that didn't need any salt. "My mom's dead, my sister's some kind of superhero who's too busy saving the world and my dad's a deadbeat who maybe sends a Christmas card every other year. So yeah, you go ahead and help me, 'cause I think you've got your work cut out for you."

She leaned back in her chair, glaring at Kate, too hurt and angry to even think of Eric. Better for him that he was out of the line of fire. Who the hell did these people think they were, anyway? The fucking Welcome Wagon? Well, if so, they were a couple years and a couple hundred vampires too late.

Kate gave a soft groan and leaned back in her chair. She would give Eric an earful later for leaving her alone, for going in without all the information. She sighed softly, claiming her own coffee to finish it off; there was only a slight wince at the cold bitterness.

"Sounds like you do need help, Dawn. I lost my dad recently. My mom died a long time ago. It's hard to remember her sometimes. Dad, on the other hand..." Her voice died off as she looked away with a sigh. "Didn't know. But, sounds like you need someone who's out there not connected to everything else. I did."

There was a hint of a smile. "I know. You're not me. I'm not you, all that. Don't know what it's like to be you, just a few clues, hints. Whatever it is, it's got you here, alone, during school hours. It's got bags under your eyes, and it has you paranoid of strangers. Now, if you saw someone in that same situation, would you think, 'hey, there's someone who's really got it all together.' Or would you think, after the short bout of paranoia, 'maybe I can help.'"

Eyeing Kate warily, Dawn relented - but only a little. She thought the woman was being sincere, but there was no way of knowing for sure. But if she continued to be distrustful, she'd have to keep people at arm's length for the rest of her life, and that wasn't a life she wanted to have. Dealing with the vampires and the demons and the sister who was a Slayer was hard enough.

"We lost people," she said quietly. "Occupational hazard of living." A half-shrug with one skinny shoulder and a small shake of her head. "Look, I don't know what you think you can do, but it doesn't end. It doesn't stop. It's one thing after another, always. I don't know what you want to do here."

Sad to say that you have to learn about that particular 'occupational hazard'. My line, my old line of work it did come with the busines - you couldn't exactly avoid death. But, you shouldn't have to be faced with it. Sorry bout that; not that I can do much about it." She gave Dawn a slight smile before checking on Eric.

"It doesn't stop. It never will. Good guys, bad guys, just guys. The thing is how you feel about it can always change. Went through a rough time after my dad passed. Actually tried to hunt down Angel - wanted to kill him. Wanted to kill anything like him. I lost my job because of it." Lost my identity because of it. "But things change - I have to help, I have to fight - like I said, it's how I'm wired. Not sure what I can do for you, Dawn, but I know I want to help. Even if it is just listening. Amazing the techniques you learn when you have to go to some stupid sensitivity class." There was a strange little smile there.

Eric dawdled by the counter, getting himself a bagel and a tea, then adding on the two coffees for the females. He wanted to stay out of the way as long as possible, give them a chance to get to know each other a little. He obviously had freaked Dawn out a little, but that was ok. It would just give her and Kate something to bond over.

He listened carefully to what they were saying - also carefully appearing as if he was oblivious. He grimaced a bit when Kate mentioned the word 'mother', but there was really nothing he could do. He had been very careful not to mention family words other than sister, but he couldn't have expected Kate to pick up on it. Well, hopefully it would give them something else to talk about, maybe.

Catching Kate's eye, he figured it would be ok to return to the table. He slid his food onto the table before his chair, then placed each cup of coffee gently down before it's respective owner. He pulled his chair out, turned it around and straddled it so he could lean his arms on the top.

Looking at Dawn, he said, "Listen, I'm sorry if I came on a little strong before. But I've lived in this town, I know how quickly things can go to hell - literally. I was sent back here for a reason, to help out where I could and make sure things didn't get out of hand. So if you need any help, really, it's my job. I'm not kidding. It's what they pay me for - to try and fix problems. Right now, the problem is the Hellmouth and everything that's coming to check it out. So right here, right now, you're the one in control. You're the one with the knowledge, not me, not Kate."

He drank out of his tea again, then offered it to Kate. "Darjeeling this time. So, are we on ok terms now?"

"Yeah," said Dawn slowly, the wheels in her mind slowly turning. Okay... not okay. There was a fine line between 'okay' status. But Kate really did seem sincere, and she knew Angel, and, well, Dawn liked to think she was usually a good judge of character. "Yeah, well, sorry if I don't spill my guts to you right away, considering you hardly know me. I doubt you'd want me to anyway. But yeah, I know what you mean, about the needing to help."

It was probably a lot easier for her, too, being able to contribute something to the cause. Dawn couldn't even pick up a book half the time without somebody snatching it away, afraid that it would corrupt her delicate young mind. As if.

She eyed the coffee that Eric put down in front of her as he returned from the counter. Now this was more like it. "If the Hellmouth is your problem," she said wryly, "then you're going to have to work really hard, 'cause it's not going anywhere." And then, quickly changing subjects. "So you're Riley's friend?" With little finger-quotes around the 'friend' part.

Eric smiled and tapped his fingers on the chair.

"Yea, Riley and I are friends. No air quotes, just reality. We trained together, worked together, got pretty tight. When the Sunnydale project got shut down, we all went our separate ways but tried to keep in touch. He still sends emails around the holidays and asks how my Mom and sister are doing. He's not a bad guy, just too rigid sometimes. Me, I'm more flexible. Have to be."

He dug into his cargo pockets and pulled out a notepad and pen.

"Hey, you never know - we may want you to spill your guts all over the place. Figuratively, of course. Having real internal organs all over the place is not so cool. But words, words I can deal with. I understand your reticence though. I respect it."

Scribbling on the notepad, he continued, "But if you ever need help, or someone to talk to about this crazy shit who isn't your sister's friend or somehow part of the supernatural party, here's my cell number. I always keep my phone on and it works everywhere. Part and parcel of the whole secret agent gig."

Sliding it across the small cafe table towards her, he grinned wryly and said, "I'm not the bad guy here, I promise. If you never want to see me or Kate again, that's your prerogative. But just keep it in mind."

Kate claimed the paper before Dawn had a chance to take it. Not that she was overly aggressive about it. The explanation of why she would do such a thing came in the appearance of her own pen. She jotted down a number as well, putting her name by it.

"There, now you have to people to bitch at should you need to, people to call if you need help - doesn't have to be for the night walking kind either." She finished the paper's original journey towards the Summers' kid. "Or not. Really up to you."

Kate gave a shrug, and somewhere inside, she wished she'd had someone there for her when her mother died. Or when her father died - someone she could trust. She drowned any possible sigh in a sip of coffee; this really wasn't the time to go all "woe is me." Not in front of a semi- and a complete stranger.

"Yeah," Dawn said, picking up the slip of paper from the table and eyeing it before slipping it into her pocket. "Thanks."

So they didn't seem evil or anything, just kind of weird and clueless about how to approach someone and offer help without seeming totally... well, weird. She still didn't buy it, the whole 'we want to help because we want to help' spiel, but where was the harm of taking the numbers? Who knew, they might come in useful sometime. And like Eric had said, if she never wanted to see them again-

Well, actually, she probably would. That's the way things worked in Sunnydale. You could never avoid anything. Their world seemed to be extra-small.

06.09.07

Tue, 08 Jan 2008 22:39:39 GMT

Phone calls are a necessary evil.

Eric had caught Kate's vague statements about not having a job. As an ex-cop PI from LA, Sunnydale did not hold much opportunity for her. But here was where the action was, so here was where she needed to be - even if no one seemed to need her or want her here. Well, now that had changed for him so he was going to make sure it changed for others as well. Even if that meant calling in a favor.

He briefly explained the situation to a friend, someone he worked with a few years ago who had since retired from active duty and taken a position in law enforcement - high up, of course. He was assured it wouldn't be a problem for the Sunnydale police to suddenly wake up to the fact that supernatural doings were afoot - especially since the only reason they had been prevented from dealing with it before was that the military had definite ideas on how it should be handled, and those ideas did not include bumbling, undertrained cops. Now that The Initiative was nominally disbanded, there was no real barrier to, say, the Sunnydale PD hiring a certain cute PI with experience investigating paranormal events and beings.

The call seemed even more important after he found the body behind the dumpster.

He was continually amazed by the lack of imagination of criminals. The body always went in a Dumpster, or in a corner of an alley (like the next body was). The interesting ones where when the body was dismembered and buried all over town, or that Mafioso who owned a pig farm.....

But the only weird thing about these bodies was that they weren't the work of the same person. One had an expertly slit throat, and the other was completely drained of blood with two small ragged puncture marks in the neck. The victims were also very different, a large man having succumbed to a slit throat and the bloodless corpse a young attractive female. The vampire wouldn't have resorted to a knife, not when he possessed his own weapons. Which meant there were two killers on the loose here, one a vampire and one at least somewhat professionally trained. Somewhat was because the body should have either been hidden (if the guy was meant to just disappear) or put somewhere even more likely to be found (if he was meant to be a lesson to others).

Crouched down over the body, he felt the presence of another behind him. Eric straightened up slowly and turned around, ready for whatever Sunnydale threw at him next.

How much time had passed since he killed that man? Dietre could not tell, time had become unfathomable to him in these passed five years. Within the same day it could stretch for eternity or last only for a blink of an eye. How long had he spoken to that woman over the corpse? He could not remember. When had he left her and the body? It seemed like a long time ago, but yet he could not recall what had happened between the time he left the scene of his crime and right now.

He was aware, at least, that he still hadn't called his current employer. And he really should. Really, really. Dietre blamed the strange woman for making him lose track of what he was doing. Being spoken to out of the blue by strangers threw a wrench into his inner workings and got him all fucked up. He simply wasn't used to his routine of floating on the outskirts of the world being interrupted. But now he had gotten himself focused on the task at hand once more, and seeing as he found himself closer to the center of town he was sure he would come across a phone booth soon.

And sure enough, there was one right across the street. The sort you had to step into, a glass box with a door. The boy squeezed himself in, oblivious of the bright smears of blood his hands left on the dirty glass. A number was dialed. He offered no greeting, saying only, in that murmur of a voice.

"...It is done. Be expecting me..."

With that he hung up and stepped back out onto the street. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned, facing the mouth of an alley.

A man was there. And just behind the bulk of a dumpster, Dietre caught a glimpse of a woman's legs.

Eyes went from those legs, to the man, to the legs, then back over his shoulder to the scarlet hand prints he had left on the phone booth.

Brows furrowed, sleep deprived brain struggling to make connections.

...Ah...

Uhm. Well. Perhaps he would be lucky and the man had killed that girl. No problems that way. Right?

Eric turned around and blinked several times at the quantity of blood covering the strange man. He seemed blank, almost in shock. But Eric quickly dismissed the notion that this man was the victim of some trauma. In fact, considering the amount of blood on him, he might just be the one responsible for the slit throat. It was just like his luck to run smack into one killer while looking for another. And despite the fact that this man looked very young and effeminate, he could easily be the professional killer.

Hey, weirder things had happened.

Walking slowly but menacingly towards the young man, he stuck his hands inside his pants pockets for better access to his arsenal of tools. He spoke softly and clearly.

"So how about you stay right there and tell me where all that blood came from, ok? I'm not going to do anything, just listen. Tell me what happened."

Dietre stood and stared, not quite sure what to do. An awkward moment with the two of them blinking at eachother. By the look on the other man's face it was clear he was suspicious. More than that most likely. The boy absently wondered if running could possibly make him look any more guilty and if he should give it a try.

The man took a step towards him and Dietre immediately hid his hands behind his back. It seemed quite the childish gesture. A little kid caught red handed covered in chocolate but still trying to hide the evidence. Shoulders lifted in a slow, careful shrug. The other man continued to step towards him, but with each movement forward, Dietre began to back away, head turning slightly to eye the blond sidelong. The boy said nothing, just stared warily, gaze drifting down to the way the man's hands dug around in his pockets.

Dietre didn't believe that the other man was telling the truth about not doing anything to him any more than the guy would believe him if he said he hadn't done anything wrong.

He only shook his head, very slowly. Blood, what blood?

This guy obviously had problems.

He seemed unwilling - or incapable - of talking about this. When Eric asked him what happened, he hid his hands behind his back, like that made it disappear. An ostrich with his blood-soaked head in the sand.

The boy's demeanor made him curious, made him want to not have to disable or kill him. It would be more interesting to find out who he was and what he was doing here.

The fact that he was painted in blood was interesting too, obviously.

This was something different from the usual vampire-demon dynamic in Sunnydale, and that was reason enough for him to investigate.

He held his hands out in front of him, palm up. Showing they were empty. As if his hands weren't weapons of their own - but the kid did not know that. Yet.

He took another deliberate step towards the boy and spoke again.

"Are you all right? Do you need help? Why did you come here?"

Oh yeah. Problems a plenty. Blood was not the only thing that marred his clothing. He wore black from head to foot, but it was faded, ripped and stained. Dirt and grime, and quite possibly old, old blood. It was a little more than obvious that he didn't take good care of himself.

His hands were busy while they were behind his back, hurriedly wiping the blood on his coat.

The stranger was empty handed, and didn't look like he was about to strike at him in anyway. At least not yet. And that was enough to get Dietre to open his mouth a bit.

"...I'm tired.." Well, anyone could see that. The kid looked like he was liable to just conk out right there on the sidewalk.

Did he need help?

"Uhm..." That question was glossed over and Dietre moved on to number three. "I had a job..But I did it..so...I'll leave soon, I think." His voice husky, a German accent audible behind his mumbling.

Eric was taken aback a bit when he finally spoke. One, the German accent was unexpected, especially in SoCal. Two, he had really expected the kid to run and was ready to chase him down if need be. He was happy he didn't need to, though.

"I can see you're tired. Frankly you look like shit. And if this 'job' was what I think it was, you need to stop. It's killing you. You probably haven't eaten, showered or changed your clothes in days."

Eric had known too many bad men - and been one himself in the line of the job - that he could tell evil from misguided. This kid wasn't evil. Something had happened to make him like this.

"Tell you what.....if you promise not to run away or kill anyone, I'll buy you something to eat and you can tell me all about it. Whatever IT may be. Sound good? Do we have a deal? Because I could just arrest you, but I know you'd just sink into your shell. You need help, kid. I know how to do that."

At being told he looked like 'shit' the boy blinked and looked down at himself, as if he hadn't noticed before it had been pointed out to him. A slight frown passed over his features. That was something too, his face was a calm mask, emotions only hinted at, like images through smoked glass.

"Killing me..." Some part of him inside sneered, wasn't that the point?

What he was offered took him rather off guard. Buy him something to eat? Dietre was wary, as well as confused. Head tilted to the side slightly as he mulled over his decision.

Maybe this man wanted to hire him for something and was just being vague about it?

Then again, he did seem concerned...

"...Alright." He was just too exhausted to think too hard about anything right now. Everything is easier when you just agree.

The blank look of the boy's face gave way to a slight frown as he looked down at himself. Eric had the feeling that it was the first time in a long while he had really seen himself, or his surroundings.

Well, Eric was a genius at surprising people.

The few words that came out of the kid's mouth seemed to be involuntary, like he was having an internal monologue that only occasionally manifested in audible words. But what was important were the last word that emerged - alright.

"Good." Eric said, and grabbed the kid by the arm. It was grimy, but it could be worse. Not like that time he was caught in the marshes of Thailand shooting at...well, that was over.

"Let's get some food in you, and then maybe a change of clothing. And you can tell me your name and how you ended up in Sunnydale covered in blood." There was an unspoken 'or else' at the end of that statement.

The hand that grabbed his arm was startling. Dietre was not used to being touched. It was an alien feeling, and therefore made him nervous. Muscles went stiff, jaw tense. Despite this, he allowed himself to be led along.

Dietre wasn't exactly sure what was going on. Was he being arrested? The man didn't have a uniform, and he hadn't been handcuffed...And officers didn't offer meals and new clothes to people, right?

All this charity began to draw out those manners that had been drilled into him since childhood.

"..Thankyou." A pause while he thought. "I'll be getting..." Paid for murdering that man? "..money soon. I will pay you back." With blood money. How thoughtful.

Eric felt the young man tense up but still go along. That was good, he didn't really want to have to knock him out just to get him off the street.

As they walked -or rather, as Eric dragged the still-nameless kid down the street towards the diner - the kid began to talk. Offered to pay him back, even.

Eric smiled, though there was very little humor in it.

"Don't worry about the money, it's not a problem. You can pay me back in information. But first..." He dragged him through the diner to the bathroom. "Wash up. Please. You're going to scare away the waitress."

Dietre frowned again when the man dismissed being paid back. Well then, D supposed he would just have to force himself to talk and answer each question to make sure his debt was fulfilled.

The bright lights inside the diner made Dietre squint a bit. He really didn't go into buildings very often these days. Even when he did remember to pick up his hit money, he rarely ever got himself a hotel room. More often than not he ended up misplacing the money somewhere. He had nothing to spend it on anyway, so why did it matter? It was just paper, after all.

Once inside the bathroom Dietre set out on attempting to make himself some what presentable. He seemed a bit sheepish at the thought of being so disgusting that he'd scare anybody off. Hands were scrubbled with liberal amounts of soap, the water running faintly pink from the blood. The mirror was tactfully avoided until after Dietre washed his face as well. The cool water seemed to wake him up some, helped him focus. Hair was slicked back, Dietre figuring it wouldn't look so dirty that way.

When he was done he looked better, not great, but better. His clothes were still dirty ruins, and his eyes were still racooned with dark circles of exhaustion, but there was a marked improvement. He wasn't a bloody mess, at least.

He looked to the man for a moment, as if expecting some sort of appraisal. Was he suitable for a public appearance?

Eric watched the kid as he methodically cleaned himself at the bathroom sink. Well, as clean as you could get in a diner bathroom.

The kid still looked like shit, but he wasn't dirty or bloody anymore. Nothing a good meal, a good night's sleep and a lifetime's worth of therapy couldn't get rid of....

He was lost in his own thoughts, memories really, when he realized the kid was looking up at him like a student waiting for the teacher to say "Right answer! Good job."

Oh crap.

Eric crossed his arms and looked the kid up and down. His clothes were still a mess, but no worse than half the grungy kids in the indie rock scene. Finally he nodded his head. It'll do.

"Ok, here's how this is going to work. We're going to sit down, order some food like normal human beings. Then we're going to eat. Then I'm going to ask you questions, and you are going to answer them. Honestly. I will know if you're lying, trust me on that. And I don't like liars much. Especially not ones who seem to be inept killers for hire. So come on...whatever your name is. Let's go sit down and get this taken care of tonight."

Ah. Good, good. This guy made everything clear cut and simple. Easy to follow instructions that even Dietre's anxiety couldn't make following impossible. Despite that deceptively calm face, the boy was a disaster of insecurity and worry. Normally all of that was kept bottled up, not to mention sleep depravation did wonders on stunting emotion. Unfortunately, social interaction always popped out the cork on all he tried to keep away. It was no wonder why he avoided people and lived like a dirty hermit.

Another quick blink when the man brought up killers for hire. How did he know? Was he that obvious? Then again, being caught with bloody hands a few feet away from a dead woman is the sort of thing that would make people jump to conclusions. And speaking of the dead girl, Dietre realized this man most definitely could not be a cop. A cop wouldn't just leave a body behind a dumpster without doing something about it. Er...confusing.

Oh, here comes those good manners again.

"...My name is Dietre."

That's better, right? Now the sorry excuse for a hit-man had a name.

Eric caught the surprise when the kid realized he knew he was a killer. Better to have that out in the open, it would make it easier to ask the right questions and get the right answers.

And now the kid had a name. Dietre. Right, he could remember that.

"Well then, Dietre. Nice meeting you. I'm Eric. Now let's go sit the fuck down and have something to eat before I pepper you with questions."

He opened the door to the restroom and ushered Dietre out, then asked, "Do you have any questions for me? Because now is the time to hit me with them."

What, asking him to think of questions? And then to ask them out loud? No, no. Dietre wasn't any good with that sort of thing. He just shook his head. Yes he was confused, but it was a hazy, vaguely formed feeling. There wasn't any one thing he could pinpoint and ask about. Not yet anyway.

Once out of the bathroom he hovered about Eric until the two of them found a place to sit, obviously hesitant to plop down just anywhere without seeing where the other man wanted to go. He sat, hands together on his lap, wringing under the table out of Eric's view.

Ready for questioning. Or, rather, as ready as he'll ever be.

Ok, apparently Dietre was somewhat less than assertive. Well, that wasn't news. Looks like Eric would be asking all the questions tonight. It was a welcome change.

He walked over to a booth, Dietre following almost disturbingly close. This kid really needed some guidance, but Eric wasn't sure he was the right role model. Then again, Dietre was an inept killer for hire who didn't even know to get half the money before doing the job to make sure the client didn't skip out on it all.

Eric sat down at a booth, back to the wall. Which meant the skinny kid had to sit with his back to the diner. Not that it seemed to even bother him. He really didn't have any training, huh? Weird.

Eric smiled at the waitress, took a menu for himself and slid one across the table at Dietre. Flipping idly through the choices, he said, "So D, where were you born? Where'd you go to school? How'd you end up a shitty hitman?"

Having his back to the crowd did not bother him in the least bit. In fact, it made him more comfortable than if it had been placed facing it. This way he could ignore everyone else's presence.

Eric's line of questioning was, uh...just a little unexpected. Dietre fumbled for an answer, distracting himself with his menu. The names of dishes swam across the page, barely readable, while pictures, most likely better looking than the real thing, spread appetizingly along the bottom. Hn...Maybe chicken would be alright...

"...I was born in Germany. I never went to school, I had private tutors...Uhm..." Now, that last question had been a tough one. A really tough one. How did he explain the path that lead him to all this when he did not really understand how it happened himself? Eric would be able to come to at least one conclusion so far. That Dietre had come from a wealthy family, one that could afford to keep their son isolated from the less fortunate, one that could dish out the cash for teachers to come to their home rather than have Dietre go to them. Maybe this could explain a bit of the boy's apparent shyness.

Another conclusion that could be made was that something had gone terribly wrong. Must have, for Dietre to end up on the streets in America as a killer.

Brows furrowed and he kept his eyes down on his menu. His life story contained some...unusual elements that made it difficult to tell without some one thinking he was absolutely mad. Well, D was quite aware that he WAS mad, but that didn't mean the things that happened to him weren't real. You can't very well blurt out a story about vampires and demons and things like that to a stranger...

"..There are...worse things in the world than me..." He paused, trailing off for a moment before continuing with a very, very simplified, and vague, history of his life.

"...My parents were killed when I was thirteen...So I lived with a family friend..." Now his face twisted with more emotion than it had expressed the whole night. Pain and grief. More feeling for this 'family friend' than for his parents. "...But he was killed too..." A whisper, and then the calm mask was forced back into place.

"...The rest just happened..."

Eric kept his eyes on Dietre's as he spoke. There was the sense that this was difficult for him, that he did not do this often. That he did not interact with other human beings for extended periods of time.

He was a bit taken aback by the private tutors thing. He knew this wasn't a kid off the streets, but wealthy people normally didn't end up as killers. Unless, of course, they were psychopathic serial killers. But Dietre didn't appear to have that problem - good, that was one off of an extensive list.

Eric leaned forward on the table as the words "worse things in the world" passed through Dietre's lips. Had his parents been the victim of an attack by Hostiles? That would make sense, it would have traumatized him. Followed by the death of his surrogate father, that could easily have unmoored him from whatever fragile hold he had on reality.

"So both your parents and your guardian were murdered? By the same... people or totally different events?" There was a hesitation about the word 'people', Eric wasn't sure whether that was a subject to be broached. He was hoping Dietre would say it himself, deal with it head-on.

A nod, yes they were murdered. Dietre seemed to be the crowned prince of bad luck. He certainly seemed to wallow quite a bit in his misfortune. Some people just don't know how to be happy.

"Different...people." The two of them still dancing around the subject, apparently. The boy continued to speak down at his menu rather than meet Eric's gaze. Dietre was never one for eye contact, and it was easier to talk when he didn't look at anyone.

Since the man already knew he was a killer, he figured he was allowed to add a few more details.

"..We killed the ones who murdered my parents.." 'We' must mean Dietre and his guardian. "But...I did not have that opportunity with..." He scowled, and for a moment he looked very much like a proper killer, a hard, coldness settling into his features, not at all the face of the lost, misguided boy he was a minute ago.

"...I wasn't there at the time...police had become involved.." Meaning the person who killed Collin had already been arrested, making it too difficult for Dietre to get revenge. Not unless he wanted to be gunned down by a whole police station anyway.

"Humanity is not worth saving...Watching the evening news alone is proof that beneath the skin...man has the same capacity for evil as any demon out of Hell..."

Eric wanted to see Dietre's eyes as he spoke, but he kept them pointed down at his own menu or his hands. The kid did not seem to be adept at normal human contact.

That depressing synopsis of human existence needed addressing, though.

"Man does have the capacity for evil, yes, but man also has the capacity for great good. Humankind just needs a little help. And hey, some demons aren't so bad you know."

He leaned back in his chair and smiled. "I've met more decent demons than vampires, for sure, and sometimes I have to remind myself that the humans that I meet aren't the vast majority of civilization."

Well, if Eric had wanted Dietre to look at him, he got his wish the moment he began speaking about demons and vampires. The boy lifted his head, startled into staring back at the other man, brows raised for a moment. What were the odds he would come across with some one who knew about all the things that went bump in the night like he did?

"..Vampires killed my parents..." His voice now even more quiet than it had been before. A whisper so that no one could overhear, only loud enough for Eric. And even then the poor man might have to strain to listen.

"A human killed my friend...A drug addict wanting a car..." He look away again, eyes averted to the light glinting off a salt shaker.

"..There are decent people. But everyone dies eventually." Everyone he ever cared about, anyway.

Just then a waitress stepped up to the table and Dietre fell silent. She was a hard faced older woman, pencil already out to take their orders, clearly just waiting for her shift to be over so she could go home and go to bed.

Eric smiled up at the waitress, leaving the vampire and death discussion for after the food.

"Hi, how are you doing? Looks like a busy night in here."

The waitress's face softened with a small smile. He probably reminded her of her kid or something. He was good at that, the small charming moves that eased relations along and ensured that people remembered only that you had been polite. It was a good way to keep from being memorable.

"Hmm, the broccoli bites look good, could I get a side of those? I think that, the mushroom-and-onion topped hamburger, and a Diet Sprite will be plenty for me. Thanks so much."

He handed his menu back to the waitress and looked at Dietre. He raised an eyebrow and gestured with his hands, waiting for him to order some food. God knew he needed it.

Dietre didn't possess the finesse Eric had displayed while ordering. He didn't quite know what he wanted, nor did he actually care. Too tired to read he simply pointed to a picture. Some combo thing that came with fries.

"This..and a glass of water, please." Simple with no frills, bells or whistles.

The waitress didn't seem to like Dietre as much as she liked Eric. Maybe D reminded her of those no good hooligan teenagers that hang around the mall at night. Though Dietre was no longer a teenager at all, only looked young for his age. She frowned at him slightly.

"The Chicken Strip Meal, then?" A touch of impatience in her voice. She jotted the order down when Dietre nodded, told the two of them their food would be coming up soon, took their menus and then moved on to the next table.

When she left, Dietre went back to avoiding eye contact. But it seemed he finally worked up something to ask.

"How do you know about..." He trailed off, but the question was clear. How did Eric come to know about demons and vampires and so on and so forth? Most of the world of ignorant of such things.

Eric smiled at the waitress again as she left. Never hurt to be extra friendly to the people who cook or serve your food, they have a multitude of ways to make you pay if you don't.

He cocked his head and Dietre half-stammered out his question. How much detail to go into? Obviously the kid didn't need to know everything, but he needed to know enough to get the right idea.

"I work for the US government, in the military. We've known of the existence of certain hostile forces for generations now, but a program was put into effect in the early 20th century to start dealing with it specifically. Regular police, or even the majority of the military, are not equipped to handle these sorts of cases. So we do. I spent a couple of years here in Sunnydale working on it before the division was broken down and reassigned to other duties. It's only recently become active again."

He rubbed his hand along his jaw. This was going to be a tough question for D, but it had to be asked.

"Did the vampires specifically target your family or was it random? Did you, your parents or your family friend know of their existence prior to the attack?"

Oh my, that was a bit too much at once. Eric's explanation all sort of merged into one general idea, 'Military'. Made him a little worried again that the man might just arrest him after their meal. He didn't think anyone who worked for the government would just let him go. Well...he'd worry about that later.

"I don't know..." He could not tell what the vampires' intention had been. He was too young, and all he saw from his hiding spot was his mother being torn into and the house being ravaged. He knew at that young age that the police would not believe him if he told them what he saw. They thought it was about money, his family was wealthy, breaking in would be quite the temptation for anyone.

"..I didn't know anything about it, I doubt my parents did either...The man who took me in did business with my father. He was a Watcher." Hopefully Eric knew about them, probably did, if he knew about everything else. "..He taught me all I know about...everything. He trained me as a Watcher, not officially...Of course, I didn't finish..." Collin had been killed before his training had ended. And with his death, all of Dietre's interest in being a Watcher died as well.

"I hadn't thought to ask the vampires any questions before I cut off their heads." Again with that deadly killer's look.

A watcher, eh? That was a whole different kettle of fish, then.

"See, I always find it much more useful to question them before making them depart. Otherwise, there's no way to get that information. Can't raise dead vampires as zombies to ask them later, sadly."

Eric smiled, as if remembering a great adventure. Then he caught himself and put on his sober face.

"So what did the Watcher training involve?

"Studying the occult...demons..vampires..Some combat..Whatever a Slayer would need to be taught." Dietre had never desired to be paired with a Slayer. He was enthusiastic in his training only because Collin was, and Dietre enjoyed making the man proud. Once Collin was dead, Dietre saw being a Watcher as pointless. He had not cared much for humanity his whole life, and now he had even less reason to want to protect it.

He quieted again when the waitress returned with their orders. The boy first drank half of his glass of water in the first gulp. Living the way he did it would be no surprise that he was dehydrated. D apparently had far more control over himself where food was involved. He cut his chicken into pieces, eating with a fork, the picture of reserve and etiquette, though he surely must have been starving.

Eric took a big bite of his burger and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He took a sip of soda, peering at Dietre over the rim of his glass.

"So that explains how you know about vampires and demons. So where did the killing people come into play?"

He popped a french fry in his mouth and waited for the answer.

"If they are the same evil...then there is no jump from one to the other." Said rather matter of factly. He did not speak again until he had swallowed his next bite of food. It was bad manners to speak with your mouth full.

"..I was asked. And so I did." He had finished his chicken, and had now begun on his fries. Despite being Mr. Manners, he was still putting away his meal rather quickly.

"I will kill who ever, what ever, who ever, what ever wants dead." No more playing favorites here.

Another sip of his water, and Dietre suddenly realized this had been the most he had spoken to anyone in years. How strange it was to know that.

Eric took a few more bites of his burger and a few more french fries before responding to D's points.

"So you don't discriminate as to clients or victims? Do you have a death wish?"

He answered his own question that time. "Of course you do. You don't get any of the pay before doing the job, you don't cover your tracks or clean yourself up after a job. I can't even begin to imagine how you survived this long."

He sipped his soda again and said, "So is this how you plan to exist, just drift from kill to kill until someone gets your first or you die of an infection from not taking care of yourself? Or is there a point to all this? Because I'm wondering if you need to be dealt with now or later."

Ah, it stings when a stranger can so casually toss your supposedly subconscious desires in your face.

"..There was never a plan."

Dietre's mouth set in a grim line, his mostly empty plate forgotten as he straightened himself up in his seat. And for the first time since the two had come across eachother, he looked into Eric's eyes.

"If by 'dealt with' you mean 'killed', then I'd much prefer it to be now rather than later."

Eric knew he had finally gotten deep inside the shell Deitre had built. That was good, it meant the kid would be open to his next statement.

"Dealt with can mean killed, but it can also mean neutralized in another way. Like temporarily recruited to our side."

What, so now he was being given a choice? Most likely not, because, for Dietre, taking control of himself was the most difficult thing there is. This man did not want to kill him, he wanted him to join him. And so, Dietre would have to do it. He couldn't say no. He had no reason not to. He had no reason to say yes, either. Where did that leave him?

There was a strange mixture of disappointment and relief. He never quite had the spine to commit suicide. At least not all at once. He was, at times, as surprised as Eric was over how long he had survived. Why hadn't he been put out of his misery yet?

There was really only one thing keeping him from killing himself. The 'What if' he met Collin again on the other side. He couldn't bear how disgusted he would surely be. Collin would hate him.

So he just kept on living.

"...And what is your side?"

"Why, the side of truth, justice and the American way, of course."

Eric spoiled it by laughing really, really hard.

"Ok, so that's a bit of an exaggeration, but people need someone to believe in. Really, we're about keeping order. Making sure that the really scary things impact as few individuals as possible, to keep the masses secure and stable. Individual persons are smart, but people in groups are dumb. They wouldn't even be capable of making a differentiation between real evil and those who just get caught up in the furor. Like demons who aren't all that bad, and can be neutral of even on the side of good. It does happen."

Spinning his mostly-empty glass between his palms, Eric continued. "So I'm not going to try and make you into something you're not, I'm just trying to harness your particular talents and tendencies for my own purposes. In other words, I become your boss, your client, whatever. You listen to me, take orders from me. In return, I'll make sure you don't get dead - if that's what you really want."

"If you want to get dead, I can take care of that too."

Apparently Dietre wasn't in on the joke, his expression remaining serious (if not a touch confused) while Eric laughed. At first D wasn't being too convinced by the shpeal he was being given. He had already made it clear how little he cared about society, so working to keep people safe for the sake of their comfort and happiness wasn't very appetizing. There was a bitter, jealous thorn in him that made him envious of all those who had not suffered as he had.

But then Eric continued, and the second part seemed more agreeable.

"...So you will be my employer? Not a faceless government?" He was not so much asking, Dietre sounded as though he was telling Eric that this was the condition he was accepting the offer of employment.

"Okay."

It was a deal. The boy then broke eye contact and finished his water. Business was over and taken care of.

Man, this kid lacked a sense of humor. Or maybe it was just that he was German. Yea, that must be it.

"Yea, I'll be your employer. You'll only hear from me, get orders from me, deal with me. You will never come into contact with my superiors or anything. Just me."

Eric was glad the kid said yes, but come on. Show some emotion. Oh, that's right. Emotionally stunted, trauma blah blah blah.

Of course, being the kid's boss also meant he was probably stuck with him full time. Ah well. He'd have to live with it. Hopefully, Dietre did something other than kill people and mope all the time.

"You done eating, or do you want something else? If you're done, we can get out of here and work on investigating the corpse that you didn't leave. It was a vampire," he said helpfully.

Oh yes, stereotypical German. Dietre had that whole cold, serious and stern thing going on. But as Eric could probably tell, he was just a fluffy bunny beneath it all. Just needed a good long nap. You know, maybe some Prozac. Clothes in a color besides black might help a bit too.

"I'm done." Dietre must not be that big of a french fry fan, he left half of them on his plate. Though it was likely he was just not used to eating so much all at once. Slim pickings for an extended period of time can shrink a person's stomach. Or something.

"We can do whatever you want us to do." Because Eric was the boss. That's how it worked, right? Instead of investigating vampire victims, Dietre should probably be put to bed. Once that meal officially hit his stomach the kid would probably fall asleep standing up.

Eric noticed the droop of D's eyes and realized the kid was not going to be fit for 'duty' anytime soon. So he made an executive decision.

"Alright, you can crash by my place for now, at least until I get a better idea of what's going on around here."

AS they walked out of the diner, he gave a low whistle. "And don't think I'm just letting you roam around alone." With that said, Sancho emerged from the gloom of the night, grinning widely. Strange how a big dog could go from looking adorable to looking deadly just by showing a mouthful of sharp teeth.

Eric certainly was a generous employer. When was the last time Dietre knew he would have a roof over his head? He had spent too long sleeping in parks and doorways, a practice in a place this infected with evil beings wouldn't be very wise at all. He followed the older man outside, only to be confronted with a large dog. He was taken aback by those seemingly vicious teeth, and made no attempts to introduce himself to the canine. It wasn't growling, but Dietre couldn't quite tell if the look on its face was friendly or not.

Either way, a dog, even one as large as the one before him, was far less frightening to Dietre than dealing with people could be. He remained by Eric's side, however, head canting.

"So...The dog is escorting me?"

Eric smiled as Sancho sniffed Dietre's legs and crotch.

"Consider him your new partner. He knows the rules and he's very well-trained. He'll accompany you everywhere. Walking a dog is a good cover - especially when no one can tell that really he's walking you."

Snapping his fingers, Eric called the big goofball back over to him and scratched behind his ears. "Dietre, this is Sancho, canine extraordinaire. Sancho, this is Dietre. Guard him."

Now, what was that? Could it be he had felt a stab? Who would have thought there was a sense of pride still buried deep down in there? Dietre was maybe just a tiny bit embarassed that he had been assigned a dog for a babysitter. But...it did seem like a very nice dog. Dimly he remembered wanting one as a child. Maybe if his parents had allowed him to have one, there wouldn't have been so many long lonely hours to leave him so damaged as an adult.

He reached out a hand, patting the large canine on the head in greeting. He kept his attention on Sancho when he spoke to Eric, still shy, it seems.

"Will I be staying with you...?"

The smile threatened to turn into a smirk, but Eric didn't want to make the kid feel bad. Better to have him attached and relatively docile than running around like a crazy person.

"Yea, you'll be staying with me. There's a house the military keeps up for operations around here where I'm staying, we'll head back there. I'm going to make a few phone calls while you catch up on some rest, find out a few things. If I need to head out, I'll leave Sancho with a note for you."

He turned and started walking back to where he left his car. Half a block away, Eric turned back and raised an eyebrow. Snapping his fingers to get Sancho moving, he looked at Dietre and said, "Coming?"

Life certainly had a habit of changing when you least expected it. A few hours ago he was killing a man, and now suddenly he found himself not only steady employment, but a place to stay. Dietre may have been a giant pessimist, but even he had to admit this stroke of luck. Then again, maybe it wasn't luck at all. A part of him inside squirmed at the thought of all the awkward conversation, confusion and embarrassment that would come with making a connection to some one.

Dietre hurried to follow after Eric when he was called, eyeing the car. Normally he went everywhere on foot (no wonder he was so thin), though in winter he did occasionally steal his hits' cars for the convenience. Once inside it wasn't long before the boy's head began to nod. He was no match for a meal, a comfortable seat, or the calming thrum of the car around him. Hopefully Dietre wouldn't have to find his way to the house on his own any time soon, he wouldn't remember how to get there. The kid dozed off and slept the whole way. So much for any getting-to-know-you conversations.

Eric pulled up in front of the house, turned back to the kid and sighed. Great, he was asleep. That made things both harder and easier. Harder, because Eric would have to carry him in and put him to bed. Easier, because he wouldn't have to worry about Dietre overhearing his phone calls or getting too much information for his own safety.

He closed the car door behind and opened both passenger side doors. Sancho jumped out his while Eric leaned in to carry out Dietre. Man, the kid was light. He must have been living on his own for a long time, if you could call it 'living'. Well, that was about to change. Eric may not be the nicest person, but he at least took care of his employees physically - so the kid would definitely be getting meals and sleep, which he apparently had been lacking for years.

With D in a fireman's carry, Eric motioned Sancho ahead of him and turned off the alarm to the house. He laid the kid out in the spare bedroom and set Sancho as a guard at the door (meaning Sancho just laid down in front of the door as Eric closed it behind him). That settled, he went down to the living room to make some calls. Damnit, he hated the phone.