Xander trudged down the red-brick stairwell behind Sam, his sneakers scuffing against the worn steps. The recessed lighting cast an eerie glow, making the descent feel like a journey into some B-movie villain's lair. If we run into any henchmen in matching jumpsuits, I'm outta here.
Sam's voice echoed off the walls, his hands casually tucked in his pockets as he rambled on about something Xander was only half-listening to. The words "newborn" and "Pawn" floated by, barely registering in Xander's brain.
"...really, you're still a newborn and especially as a Pawn," Samuel continued, his tone annoyingly chipper for someone descending into what looked like Satan's basement. "It's rather impressive so far. Those biker vampires were rather skilled, even. Especially for neonates."
Xander snorted, memories of his hospital stay flashing through his mind. "Still can't get over that name. Neonates? They sound like vampire babies! I'd honestly prefer calling them vampire knights, honestly. As in, those vampire knights put me in traction for two weeks. There, that actually sounds cool."
Sam turned, flashing a grin that was all teeth and no warmth. "And yet you won. That's what matters, Xan-man."
"I beat seven of them. There were twelve," Xander countered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I don't know what it's like in hell, but 58% is not a passing grade in Southern California. Pretty sure that'd get me held back a year."
Sam chuckled, the sound echoing ominously in the narrow stairwell. "Always with the self-deprecation."
"Right, cause nothing says 'tough guy' like a full body cast and a diet of hospital Jell-O," Xander quipped, rolling his eyes.
"Still tough."
Xander puffed up a bit at the implied compliment. "Well, you know me. Just call me the Vampire Vacuum. Sucking up bloodsuckers left and right."
Sam stopped abruptly, turning to face Xander with a raised eyebrow. "I used that joke already. It was bad then too."
"Yeah, fair enough," Xander agreed, cringing at his own words. "Not my best material."
They continued down the stairs, the air growing cooler with each step. Xander's mind wandered to the fight Sam had mentioned. It had been a close call, sure, but he'd made it out alive.
"So, boss," Xander started, desperate to change the subject. "Where exactly are we headed? 'Cause I gotta say, this whole descending-into-the-depths thing is giving me some serious 'Dante's Inferno' vibes."
Sam smirked over his shoulder. "Patience, young padawan. All will be revealed."
"Did you just make a Star Wars reference?" Xander asked, genuinely surprised. "I didn't peg you for a sci-fi nerd."
"I contain multitudes," Sam replied cryptically.
Before Xander could respond, they reached the bottom of the stairs. Sam pushed open a heavy metal door, revealing a sight that made Xander raise an eyebrow. A massive office space sprawled before them, filled with row upon row of cubicles. People - or what looked like people - bustled about, phones ringing incessantly and the clack of keyboards filling the air. It was like stepping into a bizarre, hellish version of a telemarketing company.
"Welcome to the Rosen Queen's operation center," Sam announced with a flourish, like a magician revealing his greatest trick. "This is where the magic happens." He paused, tilting his head to the side. "Well... I say magic, but I do mean busy work. Somebody has to file and it's not going to be me."
Xander blinked, taking in the sea of cubicles and harried workers. It was like someone had taken a typical office and cranked the weirdness dial up to eleven. Was that guy in the corner actually green? And did that woman have... tentacles for hair?
"Wow," Xander managed.
Sam raised an eyebrow, looking almost offended. "Really... just... just wow? That's all you've got?"
Xander shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the fact that his heart was doing the macarena in his chest. "Just not sure what you want me to say. It's cubicles, boss. Hellish, nightmare-fuel cubicles, but cubicles all the same."
"Fair enough," Sam conceded with a sigh. "Just follow me."
"Where we goin'?" Xander asked, dodging a harried-looking demon carrying a stack of papers taller than he was.
"Break room," Sam replied, navigating the chaos with practiced ease.
Xander's stomach growled at the mention of food. Hospital fare hadn't exactly been gourmet. "Ooh, you got any crullers?"
"Crullers? No, this is a frosted and glazed office only," Sam replied, his voice carrying a hint of amusement as he navigated the maze of cubicles. "Preferably the latter. Jelly is punishable by pitchfork."
Xander blinked, trying to gauge if his boss was joking. "Really?"
"I don't joke about these things," Sam said, his face a mask of seriousness.
"I call bullpucky," Xander shot back, unable to keep the skepticism out of his voice.
Sam paused mid-stride, glancing over his shoulder with a flat expression. "That term is also punishable by pitchfork in this office. I wouldn't use it again if I were you."
"Is laughing at something you're not sure is a joke also punishable by pitchfork?" Xander asked, his eyes darting from one bizarre sight to another.
"Depends on my mood," Sam replied cryptically.
Xander's brow furrowed slightly. How had Sam managed to set all this up in just a few months? It was mind-boggling. The Rosen Queen seemed to be expanding at an alarming rate, and Xander couldn't help but wonder what all these... employees were actually doing.
"Can I talk to Human Resources?" he asked, only half-joking.
Sam's grin was positively wicked. "Who do you think does the pitchforking?"
"...Why is that not surprising?" Xander muttered, his mouth slightly agape.
They continued their trek through the hall of cubicles, the air filled with a cacophony of ringing phones and rapid-fire typing. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting an eerie glow that made everything look just a bit more sinister.
Finally, Sam came to a stop in front of a room at the far end of the cubicle farm. It was an office kitchen, complete with several round tables, a humming refrigerator, and enough fluorescent lighting to make Xander's eyes water. The scent of stale coffee and microwaved leftovers hung in the air, mingling with the faint odor of brimstone that seemed to permeate the entire building.
Three figures sat inside, all wearing matching bright red polo shirts, khaki pants, and red loafers that perfectly matched their shirts. They looked like they'd just stepped out of some badly done version of a Gap commercial, albeit a rather poorly casted one. As Sam crossed the threshold, they sprang to their feet like well-trained puppets, standing ramrod straight.
"Mr. Ash!" they chorused in unison, voices a mix of reverence and fear.
Sam shot Xander a wry grin, clearly enjoying the display. Xander could only raise an eyebrow in response.
"Allow me to re-introduce you to the Rosen Queen interns," Sam said, his voice dripping with amusement.
Xander stepped past Sam, his eyes narrowing as he took in the trio before him. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting an unflattering glow on their matching outfits. Very Gap Kids, demon style.
He stopped, studying each face in turn. Recognition dawned slowly, like a hangover after a night of too many Twinkies. These were the same vamps he'd let live after they'd tried to bind him as their demon slave.
The Asian boy with the thick square glasses had a perpetually dazed expression, as if he was busier in his own head than anywhere else. The white kid on the far left was so skinny, Xander half-expected him to disappear if he turned sideways. And the girl in the middle... well, she looked about as comfortable as she would likely have been at a garlic festival.
Not that Xander particularly wanted to remember them, but when you dust only 25% of the vamps who try to bind you as a demon slave, the survivors tend to stick in your mind. Like gum on a shoe, or that one Hanson song everyone pretends to hate.
He focused on the girl in the middle, frowning slightly as he towered over her. "Name," he said, his tone more statement than question. He crossed his arms over his chest, doing his best impression of a stern authority figure. Channeling my inner Tony, he thought, suppressing a shudder. Never thought I'd stoop that low.
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She blinked up at him, her shoulders sagging a bit as he stared down at her. "Uh, sir?" Her voice was awkward, as if she wasn't quite sure how to address him.
Sir. Xander's eyebrow shot up so fast it nearly achieved orbit. That's new. What's next, a corner office and a 401k? Maybe a sexy secretary who brings me coffee and calls me 'Mr. Harris'?
He glanced back at Sam, silently pleading for some context. His boss responded with a simple nod, as if to say, 'You're doing great, kid. Keep it up.' Gee, thanks for the help, bossman, Xander thought, rolling his eyes. Really feeling the support here.
Turning back to the chubby vampire girl, Xander let out a sigh. "Listen, I've had a busy month since we were introduced. Lots of stakings, a hospital visit, the usual. I'm gonna need a little reminder of your names. Starting with you, Miss Poindexter."
"Oh, I'm Lisette. Lisel for short," she responded, her voice quivering slightly. She fiddled with her glasses, pushing them up her nose nervously.
Xander shook his head, barely suppressing a smirk. "First, thank you. Second, that's not how nicknames work."
He turned to the boy on her right. "You, Four Eyes 2.0. Name."
"Uh, Steven, s-sir. I'm her cousin," the chubby boy stammered, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Possibly including a tanning bed.
Xander nodded, then focused on the last intern. He squinted, pretending to think hard. "Don't tell me... Grant?"
"Greg," the teen corrected softly.
"I said, don't tell me. Looks like we've got a rebel without a cause here, folks," Xander quipped, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. He waggled his eyebrows, enjoying the way Greg seemed to shrink under his gaze.
"Grant" blinked nervously, his pale face somehow managing to lose even more color. "I... Is Grant my name now?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused.
Xander snorted. "Nah, you're fine, Greg. I'm not the name police. Though that would be a sweet gig. 'Sir, I'm going to have to write you a ticket for that unnecessary 'y' in your name.'"
He walked back to Sam, hands shoved in his pockets, confusion etched on his face. "So, this is what you wanted me to see?" he asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the trio of vampire interns. "A bunch of baby vamps playing dress-up?"
He could almost feel said 'baby vamps' pull offended faces behind his back.
Sam smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, three-fourths of it."
Three-fourths? Xander's brow furrowed, his mind racing to catch up. "Wait a sec... I thought I killed that vampire though. You know, the one with the Hot Topic loyalty card and the attitude problem?"
Sam glanced at Xander, his eyebrow raised in a perfect arch that would make Mr. Spock jealous. "What? What are you? No." The redhead's expression was a mix of exasperation and amusement, a look Xander was all too familiar with. It was the same look he often received from Giles, though on Sam's face, it was a rarer sight, his boss actually openly enjoying his humor most of the time.
Unlike the Watcher man, who liked to pretend he wasn't funny.
Really, they were oddly similar.
You'd never really notice it with Sam when he was out of the office, but in a suit and during business hours, he seemed to get more articulate and witty, almost profound sometimes. It was like the spirit of a younger Giles taking over the guy for a little bit and he didn't even seem to notice it, sliding between casual and serious, playful and philosophical.
Weird. The young Pawn shook his head and frowned, pushing that specific tangent aside. "Then who?"
Sam shook his head slightly. "Ms. Ross," he called out to no one in particular, voice carrying a hint of reprimand, "what did I say about the use of your powers on office grounds?"
Xander blinked, his expression a perfect imitation of a confused puppy. Ms. Ross? Who the hell is-
"S-sorry, sir."
He blinked again, faster this time. Where did that c-
His thoughts screeched to a halt as a girl flickered into existence right before his eyes, like some low-budget special effect come to life. It took a moment for recognition to dawn, but when it did, Xander's eyes widened.
"M-Marcie?"
In front of the Bloodsucker Breakfast Club stood a girl that he was pretty sure had sat behind him for a few classes over the last two years.
Marcie Ross stood there in the center of the break room, directly in front of the vampires, wearing a button-up short sleeve shirt, capri shorts, and a pair of sneakers; all of them white. The only real color she had on was an oversized baggy jacket in the Rosen Queen colors of red and black.
"...Um, H-hi, Xander," the girl in question mumbled, brushing her hair out of her eyes in a nervous gesture.
"What are you doing here?" he blurted out, his filter apparently on vacation.
Marcie's response was barely above a whisper. "I...uh... I work here."
Work here?! Xander's brain short-circuited. He whipped around to stare at Sam, pointing at himself first as if to say, 'Me? Is she like me?' The full question went unspoken, but the implication was clear as day.
The full question went unanswered but he didn't really think it needed to be said.
Sam rolled his eyes, the Giles-like expression on his face again. "No."
Xander's finger swiveled to point at Marcie, his eyebrows threatening to disappear into his hairline. "Then how?"
Sam shrugged, his nonchalance at odds with the bizarreness of the situation. "Blame the Hellmouth. Infernal energies run wild and do what they will."
"And it made her invisible?" Xander's voice cracked slightly, his disbelief evident.
"Did you not hear 'do what they will?'" Sam retorted, sauntering over to Marcie. He wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulder, causing her to blush furiously. "Poor little Marcie felt invisible and like the demonic Monkey's Paw it is, the Hellmouth made that into reality."
Xander raised an eyebrow, his mind struggling to keep up. "Alright. So, what... why is she here?"
Sam's grin was positively wicked. "Well, who do you think got you to the hospital back then?"
The penny dropped with all the grace of an anvil in a Looney Tunes cartoon. Xander blinked, his gaze shifting to Marcie, who was doing her best impression of a tomato, hiding behind the sleeve of her oversized jacket. "Oh," was all he could manage.
"'Oh', he says," Sam parroted. "Yes, our little resident specter dragged you to Sunnydale General before you could bleed out."
Wow…okay, that's… Xander's brain finally caught up, curiosity overriding his shock. "B-but how were you there?"
Marcie ducked her head, remaining silent. Sam gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Marcie," he prompted, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, "Tell him what you were up to."
"I... I was following y-you," Marcie admitted, her voice barely audible.
Xander blinked. "...Why?"
Marcie raised her head slightly, her eyes meeting Xander's for a brief moment. "It's... I... the day at the Bronze, you saw me s-somehow... and you talked to me. I missed it. No one's talked to me or seen me in a long time."
"Okay. That's uhhh... okay," Xander replied eloquently, feeling like he was floundering in a sea of weirdness. "Thank you. And I'm sorry? I, uh… that is—"
"You can thank your Devil Eyes for that," Sam interrupted his floundering, his voice cutting through the awkwardness like a hot knife through butter. "Anyway, as thanks, I decided to help her with her little invisibility problem with some Rosen Queen brand merchandise."
"H-he gave me a special jacket," Marcie added, clutching the garment tighter around herself like a security blanket.
"I gave her a special jacket," Sam parroted, his tone suggesting this was perfectly normal. "And a job working for me as my local informant around town."
Xander opened his mouth to respond, but after a moment's thought, he simply shrugged and gave the invisible girl a lopsided smile. "Welcome to the family?"