The Xander Years, Vol.2 Read online

  It screamed.

  So did Xander.

  CHAPTER 8

  Cordelia, it turned out, could sort of draw. Which, who knew? Xander had thought her skills were limited to cheerleading, cutting sarcasm, and personal grooming. But there she sat, sketchpad on her lap, pencil in her hand, sketching out a creature that bore some resemblance to the thing he had encountered in the cafeteria.

  Emphasis on “some” resemblance.

  “No, the mouth’s a lot bigger,” he said. “And downward. Like this.” He demonstrated, turning his own mouth down. “With more teeth.”

  She dropped the pad and pencil down on the table and stood, impatience in her voice. “I’m doing the best I can.”

  “Is that what you saw, Xander?” Giles asked, trying to defuse things.

  “Yeah. I think so. Pretty much.”

  Giles drew the next part out. Giving Xander time to decide, yes or no. “Are you sure?”

  “Well, it was dark. And the thing went through the window so quick. And I was a little shocked when I saw it and . . .”

  “Go ahead, say it,” Cordy prompted. “You ran like a woman.” That biting sarcasm talent, coming through again.

  “Hey,” Xander protested. “If you saw this thing you’d run like a woman, too.”

  The library door swung open, and Buffy and Willow came in.

  “Buffy was right,” Will announced. “According to statistics, Dodd and Cameron were the best swimmers on the team.” She handed Giles a computer printout.

  “First and second, actually,” Buffy put in. “Which means, if my theory’s correct, that Gage Petronzi, the third best swimmer on the team, would be the next item on the menu.”

  “God, this is so sad,” Cordelia said. Xander was surprised. A touch of humanity? “We’re never going to win the state championship,” she continued. False alarm. “I think I’ve lost all will to cheerlead.”

  Xander lifted one hand into the air. “Raise your hand if you feel her pain.”

  Giles ignored them both, studying the printout. “If you’re saying these killings aren’t random,” he said, “it would suggest someone’s out for revenge.”

  “And raise the possibility that someone brought forth this sea demon from whence it came to exact that revenge,” Buffy said. Then, as if hearing her own words for the first time, she looked at Giles and added, “ ‘from whence it came?’ I’m spending way too much time around you.”

  “Who would hate the swim team that much, though?” Xander asked. “Besides me, I mean.”

  Willow had a thought, which she expressed by raising her hand and saying, “Ooo.”

  Buffy encouraged her. “Willow?”

  “Jonathon! He was bullied by Dodd the other day on the beach, remember?”

  “He did say he could take care of things himself,” Buffy said. “It’s a good call, Will. You should question him.”

  Willow was a little taken aback, but smiled quickly. “Really? Me?” she asked, then got into it. “I’ll crack him like an egg.”

  “Meanwhile,” Giles said, his over-the-glasses gaze landing on Buffy, “I think swimmer number three might benefit from your watchful eye and protection. Discreetly, of course.”

  “I’m on it,” Buffy said.

  “What about me?” Xander asked. “What can I do?”

  “Well,” Cordelia said. “You could go out to the parking lot and practice running like a man.”

  Xander folded his arms over his chest, defensively. There were some things she was just too good at.

  Gage Petronzi sat in the student lounge, feet up on a table, his attention riveted to a handheld video game.

  Or so Buffy hoped.

  It was the next day, and the lounge was full of students. But it wasn’t so full that he wouldn’t be able to see her sitting there, if he looked up. She was not exactly inconspicuous in her bright purple shirt and black pants. She held a magazine in front of her face, flipping pages now and then to make it look like she was reading it. But mostly, she watched Gage. The last thing she needed was for one of those creatures to snatch him right out from under her.

  He looked up. She turned away quickly, locking her gaze on the magazine. When she thought it was safe, she snuck another glance his way.

  The interrogation took place in Willow’s computer classroom. She had Jonathon sitting in the front row, her gooseneck desk lamp turned and aimed into his eyes. She’d seen enough movies to know how this worked. Even Basic Instinct, but then, she thought, that didn’t re-ally apply in this case.

  “So, Jonathon,” she said, in her best interrogative voice. “You tried out for the swim team twice and never made it?”

  “I’m asthmatic,” he replied simply. “I couldn’t keep up.”

  “You resented it, didn’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You hated being pushed around by Dodd and the others.” And who wouldn’t? she thought.

  “So?”

  For a moment, she thought he had her there. But then she pulled it out. “So, you wanted revenge, didn’t you?” And again, louder, right in his face. “Didn’t you?”

  This was the part where they always broke down and confessed.

  Jonathon blinked back tears. “Yeah, okay? I did!”

  Success.

  No rubber hoses even necessary.

  This grilling thing is easier than it looks.

  “So,” she went on. “You delved into the black arts and conjured up a beast from the ocean’s depths to wreak your vengeance.”

  He looked at her like she had gone insane.

  “Didn’t you?”

  He shook his head, clearly confused by the turn she had taken. “What? No, I snuck in yesterday and peed in the pool.”

  “Oh.” Her shoulders fell in disappointment. Then, realizing what he had done, she made a face. “Eew.”

  Coach Marin and Principal Snyder entered the building, walked through the crowded school hallways. Coach Marin, as usual, wore his school colors like a badge of honor. The principal was dressed in another gray vested suit, although the shirt and tie were different patterns than the day before.

  “This is such a blow,” the coach complained. “Sooner or later the rest of my boys are gonna find out. How can I ask them to swim?”

  “It’s a terrible, terrible tragedy,” Principal Snyder said. They turned into the student lounge. “We all feel your pain, Coach. I don’t know two finer boys than Cameron and . . . that other one.” He stopped the coach, pointing with one finger to emphasize his point. “But I know they’d want their friends to go on and win that state championship. It’s time to think about the team.”

  “Well, I don’t have a full team as it is,” Coach Marin said. “If we don’t find someone by this afternoon’s tryouts, we won’t be eligible to compete.”

  “You’ll find someone,” Mr. Snyder assured him. “All he has to do is wear a bathing suit, right?”

  The two men continued through the lounge, out of earshot. But Xander, sitting at a nearby table, had heard enough.

  Gage leaned over the pool table, into his shot. He wore his team jacket, good old burgundy and gold, over a white sweater. Music from the PA almost drowned out the sharp report of the stick hitting the cue ball, the crack as the cue rolled into its target.

  He was playing alone.

  Sitting at the pastry bar, Buffy was also alone. Her hair was pulled into a bun, secured by a chopstick. She wore all black now, the better to blend into the shadows of the Bronze.

  But it wasn’t working.

  Gage felt her gaze on him, looked up. She glanced away, left the bar, casually strolled to a spot behind one of the I-beams that supported the roof.

  But she wasn’t entirely hidden behind the beam, and he spotted her there, too. He tossed his stick onto the table, left the game.

  She started to move, coming around the beam to keep him in sight.

  And walked right into him.

  She tried to go around the other side of the beam
, but he met her there as well.

  “This ‘me and my shadow’ act?” Gage said. “It’s getting old. What do you want from me?”

  Caught off guard, she tried to think on her feet. “Well, um . . . It’s a little embarrassing, but see . . . I’m a swim groupie.”

  “Uh-huh,” Gage said. Not buying it.

  Buffy dug herself in deeper. “Oh yeah. There’s just something about the smell of chlorine on a guy.” She reached for sexy. “Oh baby.”

  He said “Mmm,” and turned on his heel.

  She chased after him, got in front of him, and brought him to a stop. “Okay, okay,” she said. “Okay, obviously my sex appeal is on the fritz today, so I’ll just give it to you straight. There’s something lurking around making fillets out of the populace and I think you might be next.”

  He was no more convinced by this story than he was by the last. “Uh-huh. And you think that because —”

  “Well, it’s already attacked . . . it’s already killed some people.”

  “You’re one twisted sister, you know that? Cam told me about your games. Go find someone else to harass.” He pushed past her and went out the door. She had blown it, big time, and couldn’t even bring herself to follow him.

  Even outside, he couldn’t shake the creepy feeling Buffy gave him. Gage shook his head, trying to clear it. “What a psycho,” he said.

  He had been talking to himself, but now he noticed someone else in the alley, a tall guy in a dark coat. Handsome, but pale. The guy must have heard, because he spoke.

  “Gotta be talking about Buffy,” he said.

  “How’d you know?” Gage asked.

  “She and I . . . had this thing once,” the stranger explained. “Biggest mistake of my life.”

  No kidding. “My condolences, dude,” Gage said.

  “She’s a real head tripper,” the guy went on. Gage was starting to be a little freaked out by the personal way this guy was talking to him. After all, they’d just met. Actually, they hadn’t met.

  “Tell me about it. Girl thinks she’s God’s gift or something.”

  “Who is she, the Chosen One?” the stranger asked.

  “Exactly.”

  “You know,” the guy continued. “What she really needs is for someone to knock her down a few notches.”

  “That’d be sweet,” Gage said, liking the concept. “Anyone in mind?”

  “You’re in luck, my friend . . .”

  Gage turned back to see why he was in luck, but the guy wasn’t where he had been. He could still hear the stranger’s voice, though, continuing.

  “Just so happens . . .”

  And then the guy was in front of him, even though it didn’t seem like anyone could move that fast. And he was different now. His forehead was . . . thicker, somehow. And ridged. It made his eyes look smaller, beady. And his teeth were . . . well, fangs was the only word that came to mind.

  “I’m recruiting.”

  Gage tried to scream as the guy lunged at him, growling like an animal. Gage managed to get out a couple of hoarse shouts, put his arms up. But the guy battered away his defenses. He’s strong, Gage thought. Then the guy moved in, gripping Gage in an unshakable grasp, and then Gage felt the stranger’s teeth bite into his neck. They are fangs, he thought, as they sank deep in his flesh. “Hey, get off!” he shouted. “Help! Get off of me! Help!”

  But he also realized that the strength of his shouts was diminishing with every passing moment. If no one had heard yet, no one was likely to now.

  Buffy left the Bronze, feeling very much defeated. She couldn’t exactly watchdog Gage if he didn’t want to be watchdogged. But he was next up on the feeding frenzy list, she was sure. She didn’t want the skins of any more students left lying around, emptied out like old grocery bags. Especially when she knew who the next victim would be.

  She heard a strangled cry, maybe because she was listening for trouble, or maybe just because she was the Slayer, and that was the kind of thing she did.

  It sounded like Gage. And it sounded like he was saying something like, “Help! Get off of me! Help!”

  She ran, around the corner and down the alley.

  And there he was, sprawled out on the ground. Standing above him, someone dressed in dark clothes was spitting like he’d just tasted something truly ick-inducing.

  She spun and lashed out with a kick, knocking him back away from Gage. He responded with a familiar growl. Vampire. She yanked the chopstick — sharpened to a point — from her bun. Her hair fell down around her face.

  And she recognized Angel, finally, at the same moment that he recognized her.

  She held the chopstick at the ready.

  “Why, Miss Summers,” Angel said with a cold smile. “You’re beautiful.”

  Before she could figure out how to respond to that, he reached down, lifting Gage as easily as one would a child. Angel threw the limp swimmer at her, and they both went down in a tangle of limbs. By the time she had regained her feet, Angel was running away into the night. She didn’t bother to give chase.

  “Oh,” Gage said, getting to his feet. He was bleeding from the bite, but otherwise okay. “Was that the thing that killed Cameron?”

  “No,” Buffy assured him. “That was something else.”

  “Something else?” he asked, surprised.

  “Yeah, unfortunately we have a lot of something elses in this town,” she said flatly. “G’night.”

  But she hadn’t gone more than two steps when Gage called out. “Hey! Walk me home?”

  They walked.

  * * *

  Sunnydale High’s Olympic-sized pool was indoors, surrounded by wooden bleachers. In years past, those bleachers were seldom used, even during the swim team’s meets. But this year, with the state championship within grasp, they were jammed for meets, and even practice sessions drew spectators.

  The spectators today included Buffy, Willow, and Cordelia, although they had a different agenda than most of the crowd.

  The team members stood at the edge of the pool, loose and relaxed. They all wore swim caps and goggles. Coach Marin shouted, “Swimmers! Take position!” and the swimmers dropped into their starting crouches, ready to dive.

  He blew a short, sharp blast from his whistle. Suddenly the air was full of swimmers in motion. They hit the water, each in his own lane, and started reaching out, cupping the water in their hands, propelling themselves the length of the pool.

  Coach Marin walked alongside as they went, shouting out words of encouragement. “Keep it going, keep it going,” he said. “All the way to the end. All the way to the end.” He repeated himself as if they were small children, or maybe big ones who were not all that bright. But then again, Buffy reflected, she had spent quite a bit of time with Cameron Walker, who she knew for a fact was no Einstein. So maybe a little repetition is a good thing.

  “Breathe deep,” the coach said. Confirmation of theory.

  Gage stopped swimming in the middle of the pool, scanned the audience. When he saw Buffy, he waved. She gave him a little hand waggle in return.

  But the coach spotted him too. “Gage, you with us or not?” he demanded. “C’mon, let’s go!”

  Coincidentally, Buffy had been telling Will and Cordy, between the handfuls of popcorn that were today’s lunch, about the events outside the Bronze the night before.

  “He just spit it out?” Cordelia asked. “I thought Angel liked blood.”

  “He used to,” Buffy agreed.

  “Maybe his eyes were too big for his stomach?” Willow said.

  “Or maybe there was something in Gage’s blood Angel didn’t like,” Buffy offered. “Say, for example, steroids.”

  “That would explain all their behavioral changes,” Willow said.

  “And the winning streak,” Cordelia added.

  Willow took the logical next step. “So maybe whatever is in their blood is what’s attracting this creature to them!”

  “Any luck researching our fish monster?” B
uffy asked Cordy.

  “Zippo. We couldn’t find any sea demons that match the description that Xander gave us. Not that Chicken Little’s much of a witness, but —” Cordelia stopped in midsentence, distracted by something down at the end of the pool.

  “Oh,” Cordelia said, eyes widening. “Oh. Oh, my. That, girls, is my kind of . . .”

  Buffy turned to see what the girl was looking at. A swimmer walked toward the pool, strong, muscular legs leading to a tiny, tight Speedo. Above it, a narrow waist flared to a strong chest, broad shoulders, powerful arms.

  Goggles hung at his neck.

  Above that, Xander’s face.

  “Xander?” Willow said, astonishment ringing in her tone.

  “Xander?” Cordy echoed. Hearing his name seemed to remind Xander of what he was wearing. Or, not wearing. He scrambled for a kickboard, held it in front of the little swimsuit. Behind him, for what good it did, he held his yellow swim cap.

  The girls climbed down from the bleachers.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Cordelia asked him.

  Xander whispered his reply. “I’m under cover.”

  “You’re not under much,” Buffy observed, stifling a giggle.

  “Get out of here before someone sees you impersonating a swim team member,” Cordelia instructed him.

  “I don’t do impersonations,” Xander protested. “I tried out for the team last night. I made it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” he explained. “I figure I can keep an eye on Gage and the others when Buffy can’t.”

  “When you’re nude?” Willow asked. Buffy gave Willow a smack, and she corrected herself. “I meant to say ‘changing.’ ”

  A tweet from the coach’s whistle cut the air.

  “Harris,” Coach Marin called. “You can flirt on your own time.”

  “Okie-dokie coachie,” Xander said. He backed away from the girls, tossed the kickboard back toward the pile it came from, and joined the rest of the team.

  Cordelia seemed almost in awe, but Buffy couldn’t tell whether it was of him or of herself. “I’m dating a swimmer from the Sunnydale swim team,” the cheerleader said, almost dreamily.