Arcadian Buffy
Parts 3& 4

By Sam James

[email protected]

Chapter Three: Miscommunications

Because of the delays caused by the Girardis’ visit, it was not until well after dark that Buffy, Willow, and Dawn went on their separate expeditions. Willow drove Dawn in their car to the mall, ignoring Dawn’s whine that she had to drive because she needed to practice to get her driver’s license. Buffy decided to walk to get a sense of the town and develop routes for future patrols.

Using the map the real estate office had provided, Buffy wandered toward the park. It was well after dark and her slayer instincts automatically activated when she heard muffled sounds and voices. She ran toward them, yanking a stake out of her pants.

Rounding a turn, she saw five scruffy-looking men and a young black woman with a scarf over her mouth as a gag. The well-muscled men looked like they were in their mid-twenties and the woman could not have been much older than Buffy herself. One of the men was yanking her shirt off while the other was brandishing a knife near her panicked eyes.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Buffy said. “Back away slowly.”

The men looked at her and smiled. “Now, now, little lady,” one said. “This none of ya business. Why don’t you just run along?” While he was talking, two of the men moved away from the others and began circling toward Buffy.

Buffy noticed this out of the corner of her eye and wondered why her slayer senses were not screaming at her and then suddenly realized, “You’re human!” Then she backpedaled. “Er, you’re human so why are you acting like animals!”

“Animals are we?” One of the men laughed. “No, we’re real men. Real men don’t have to beg for women with flowers and candy. When we see something preddy we like, we take. And you’re preddy.”

Buffy stood her ground. “Last chance. Back away from the woman and no one will get hurt.”

The men just laughed at her. “Hear that, Bobby?” one said. “Someone save me from da little girl.” At times like this, Buffy wished she looked more impressive.

“Okay, if you need convincing&ldots;” Buffy started to say, then, without turning around, she lashed out with her feet, knocking into the ground the two men who had been sneaking behind her. “Remember they’re just human,” she said to herself as she kicked one hard in the groin and then grabbed the arms of the second and threw him into a tree, head-first.

She jumped into the air, somersaulting, landing in the stomach of the man with the knife. The weapon flew out of his hand and Buffy knocked him out with a quick blow to the head. Two down.

Then she heard a click. One of the men, the only one with a beard, was holding a gun on her. “Lie down and spread your legs, bitch,” he spat out. “Or I’ll shoot.”

Buffy hated guns, but this was not the first time she had fought an armed opponent. Automatically, she moved toward him in a zig zag pattern, shifting with faster-than-human reactions each time he moved the gun. Scared, he fired. At that moment, Buffy dodged again and threw her stake right at the shoulder of the arm holding the gun.

“Yeow!” he yelled as the gun went flying. Buffy rammed into him with her own shoulder, careful to knock him away from the gun.

Only one man remained standing, in shock at how fast his companions had been taken down. Then he showed he was smarter than the others; he ran away.

“Can’t fight ‘da little girl’?” Buffy threw a last taunt. She went to the victim, breaking the gag and untying her hands. She used that rope to tie up the two men who were still conscious, ignoring the muttered curses of the man still grabbing his groin in pain.

Then she turned back to the woman, saying softly. “Relax, they won’t hurt you any more.” The woman still looked at her in shock. “Do you have a cell phone? We need to call the police.” The woman nodded. Buffy went to her purse and found the cell phone and dialed 911.

“Is this an emergency?” came the voice.

“Yes, I need the Arcadia police.”

A minute later, “Arcadia police. This had better be an emergency.”

Buffy explained that she had been walking in the park, saw a woman being attacked by five men, and fought them off, but the woman was still in shock. “Better send two cars,” she concluded.

“What for?” came the voice.

“To pick up the men who attacked us,” Buffy thought she had explained this.

“Are they still there? Did you escape them?”

“I said I fought them off, two are unconscious and I tied up the other two. One got away, sorry.”

“Is this some sort of joke?”

Buffy got angry, “Look buster. I’ve just been attacked by five human thugs, saved a woman, which I think is supposed to be the police’s job, and now I have some men who need to be taken away and woman in need of medical assistance. Right away.”

A different voice came on the line. “Sorry ma’am, please stay calm. A squad car is on its way to assist you.”

Buffy turned back to the woman. “I’m Buffy, what’s your name?”

“Rebecca, Rebecca Askew,” the other woman identified herself.

“Are you okay? How far did they get?”

“Not to far. They had just dragged me here when you came and saved me. How&ldots; What&ldots; There were five of them.”

Buffy ignored the questions and handed the woman her ripped shirt. “Here, you better put this on, the police will get here soon.

The police did finally come, but only one car. As soon as they saw the carnage, one shook his head and went back to call for a two more cars. Meanwhile, the two conscious thugs were begging the police to take them away from “Kung Fu Woman” and one was saying, “Officer, she’s not human. No one could do what dat woman did. No one.”

Buffy gave an innocent smile, one that made her seem years younger, and carefully looked down, modestly, so the officer would not see how hard her eyes had become. It worked. The officer gently asked the two of them to come with him to the police station.

An hour later, Lt. Michael Daghlian approached Police Chief Will Girardi. “Sir,” he said. “There’s been another attack.”

“Damn,” he cursed. “Any evidence?”

“Better than that,” Daghlian smiled. “One of the women captured four of the attackers.”

“What?!?” Will was shocked. “How? Who?”

Daghlian pointed at a young blond who was shorter than Will’s own daughter. “That one there. Good thing she came along when she did or the victim would have been raped and then killed. The victim confirmed the blond’s story in much greater detail, once she had gotten over the shock. She’s a reporter.”

“And the female fury? Cop? Military?”

“Unemployed former school counselor, according to her,” the Lieutenant said. “Just moved into town. 2322 Euclid Avenue.”

He looked closely at his superior, waiting for the reaction.

“What!!!!”

“That’s right,” the Lieutenant smiled. “She’s your new neighbor.”

Chapter 4: Breakfast Counseling Club

The next morning, after Buffy had staggered downstairs for breakfast, almost tripping on the unfamiliar stairs, two sets of eyes looked at her accusingly.

“Way to go, subtle gal,” Dawn said sarcastically. “Why didn’t you just take out a full page ad ‘Attention Baddies, Vampire Slayer Moves Into Town’”

‘Huh?” Buffy said as she slid into the a chair and put her coffee on the table. She took a big gulp. “Okay, what?”

Dawn passed the daily paper open to the editorial section. Buffy focused her still-bleary eyes and began reading, “Residents of Arcadia have long suspected that anyone off the street could do the job better than the current Arcadia police department. This belief was actually proven correct yesterday when new Arcadian resident Buffy Summers captured four of the rapists who had eluded police for over a week during which they attacked three additional women. The clearly incompetent police force&ldots;”

Dawn was still whining. “Here we are, new start, no reputation to live down, no one who knows me as the sister of that crazy Buffy girl, the one who’s fighting all the time, and you go and do this.”

“Dawn,” Willow said quietly. “What was your sister supposed to do? Just ignore calls for help, leave that poor woman to be attacked?”

Dawn hesitated for a moment. “No, no of course not.” She paused. “But she didn’t have to tell the police and the newspaper.”

“The victim was a reporter,” Buffy said. “She was in the park looking for the attackers. And the police here, regardless of what the paper says, are more thorough than Sunnydale’s finest.” She jerked fully awake. “Oh, my God! Our neighbors. Chief Girardi. He’s gonna see this and&ldots;” She grabbed her jacket and ran outside.

Buffy rang the doorbell. Mrs. Girardi opened the door and looked at her confused. “Buffy? What are you doing here so early?”

“Oh, good, you haven’t seen the paper yet,” Buffy said.

“What!!!!” came a deep roar from the kitchen. “Anyone off the street! Clearly incompetent!”

Buffy turned red. “I had to say it didn’t I?”

“Sounds like you better come in,” the police chief’s wife said. She introduced Buffy to her family eating breakfast. Luke reminded Buffy of a younger Andrew, with sandy blond hair and glasses. The other brother, Kevin, looked so much the stereotypical jock that Buffy was shocked to see him in a wheelchair. Joan, who she had already met, was munching on a piece of dry toast (anorexic, Buffy wondered without realizing that someone could well ask the same thing about herself.) The kitchen looked warm and friendly; clearly the center of the household. Buffy tried to remember the last time she and her sister had eaten together with their parents like that. She had to go far back and then she remembered that Dawn wasn’t really there. She sighed and turned her attention to Chief Girardi, clearly the patriarch of the family.

“I’m sorry for what the paper said about the police department,” Buffy began. “I want you to know that I didn’t say anything to them and think that your police department is far better than the one in my hometown.” Of course, that doesn’t take much, she thought to herself.

“I understand,” the chief said gruffly. “Not the first time they’ve written this kinda story,”

“Hey Dad lighten up,” the oldest son said with a bright smile toward Buffy. “Don’t take it out on the pretty girl, she didn’t write it.” Buffy smiled back, uncertain as to whether Kevin was flirting with her or if his charm came naturally.

“Oh,” his father replied. “Does that mean I can take it out on those who did?”

Joan stopped eating her toast long enough to say, “Freedom of the press, Dad. It’s in the constitution somewhere.”

“First amendment,” Luke replied.

After exchanging polite chitchat and gaining Mrs. Girardi’s promise to go around the neighborhood and see who had extra kitchen stuff the Summers could borrow, Buffy excused herself. But before she could leave, Joan approached her in the foyer.

“So why’d you do it?” Joan asked?

“Do what?” Buffy asked, somewhat confused. She thought she had made it clear that she had nothing to do with the editorial.

“I mean, I know why my dad does it. It’s his job. He’s supposed to go out and save people. But why do you do it?”

Buffy looked at Joan. The slayer lacked Willow’s ability to read auras but something told her that this was important. Too important for a flip comment.

"Someone needed help and I was able to help her.” Buffy said simply. “Just like there have always been people to help me when I needed it.

“Yes, but you didn’t even know her. You coulda just walked away and no one would have known.”

Although Buffy was shorter than Joan, she somehow looked down at the taller girl. “*I* would have known,” Buffy said. “But that didn’t matter. It was simple really. She needed help. I was there. So I helped her.”

“Even if it means getting hurt yourself? Even when people attack you for trying to help?” Joan asked.

Buffy looked at her, wondering for a moment about the direction of the conversation. Then she came to a realization. “But you don’t have to ask me, you can ask your father. He’s a hero every day.” Not for nothing had she spent a year acting as counselor to troubled teens.

“Yeah, but it’s his job.”

“And the police started drafting people when?” Buffy replied. “I’ve only met him briefly but I can tell he’s dedicated. He’s risking his life because it’s a way for him to help others.”

“And who’ll help us if he gets hurt? Why does he care about these others more than he does his own family?” Joan whined.

From the corner of her eye Buffy could see Mr. Girardi approaching and backed out of the way. The man gave his daughter a big hug and said, “No, never. But somewhere out there is a girl whose father loves her as much as I love you, a woman whose husband loves her as much as I love your mother, men and boys whose parents love them as much as I love your brothers. It’s because I love you so much that I have to help them too.”

Buffy backed away into the kitchen, noting that the boys had already left, and didn’t emerge until the sound of the door opening and closing showed that the family drama was over.

“Teenagers,” Mrs. Girardi sighed. “Why they just can’t flat out tell you what’s bothering them is beyond me. Everything has to be the end of the world.” Buffy gave a rueful chuckle recognizing that she was only a few years out of her own adolescence, which had all too frequently been about the literal end of the world. Of course, Willow had said Joan was involved in something that touched the universe&ldots;

“Thank you for what you said to my daughter,” Mr. Giradi said. “She’s been going through some confusing times lately.”

“I’m taking care of my sister who’s going through that same awkward stage. One minute five, the next 25, but never 15, Buffy laughed awkwardly. “I just hope my little speech helped.”

“Oh, I thought you made some fine points on the need to help others. I just wish we had more officers who showed that same motivation.” The chief of police looked at the young woman and then made a decision. “My wife tells me you are looking for a job. Have you ever considered a career in law enforcement?”

To be continued.

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