New York, October 2009
"Until I started fighting demons, I didn't really notice that your books do not mention just how much you hurt after such a fight."
Rick Castle narrowed his eyes as he looked at the detective, who was walking in front of him with Lisa, as they slowly made their way back to the surface. Which was a phrase that sounded far too much like a line out of a D&D novel to use in his own work, he noted. "In my defense, dwelling overly long on convalescence scenes, apart from the usual bedside visit after the victory, was discouraged by my editor." And by everyone else - even Rupert.
"So this was not by design, to avoid scaring prospective demon hunters off?"
He couldn't see her face, but her tone was light, joking. She really was fitting in with the Scoobies, he thought, and snorted. "No! We don't exactly want amateurs hunting demons, and we want amateurs hunting demons thinking that it's easy and safe even less." Which, seeing as how the Scoobies all started as amateurs, including Buffy, was kind of hypocritical. But they also knew just how dangerous it was, of course, and didn't want anyone else to experience what they had gone through. Although apparently Alexis didn't count as an amateur.
"You didn't exactly try to deter me."
"I rarely attempt anything I know is impossible," Rick said. Behind him, Vi started to cough loudly. "Apart from trying to teach my Slayer basic manners, of course."
"Hey!" Vi protested, while Beckett chuckled.
"See? Eavesdropping is impolite." He slowly shook his head, sighing loudly. "I try, and try, but it's hopeless…"
"Hey!"
A sudden crash from up ahead, and loud curses interrupted further banter. Apparently, navigating a pallet truck through the sewers was not quite as simple as it looked, even for Slayers.
"Willow!"
"I told you Buffy: I'm not going to float the seal all the way."
"But I just ruined my boots in this muck!"
"Then you have nothing more to lose. Stop bothering Willow for petty reasons!"
"Dawn! Says the girl who wanted her to enchant her leather jacket so it'd have air conditioning!"
"I was seventeen at the time and that's not a petty reason! It's needed for any trek through a desert!"
"You were studying in London."
"I could have been called off for an emergency translation in egypt any day!"
"There's e-mail and scans for that these days!"
"B! Stop feuding with your little sister and grab the other side!"
"Oy! What about me, Slayer? I'm the one getting pushed in the muck here!"
Castle was distracted from following the most recent episode of 'Days of our Slaying Lives' by Beckett's comment: "You know, it's actually comforting to listen to them bickering. If they are acting like teenagers, it means we're safe."
"Well…" he started to say.
"It's not exactly a perfect indicator," Xander, who had dropped back from the mess at the head of their little column, smart of him, Castle thought, cut in. "They also bicker when things are really bad." He shrugged. "But I don't think the demons left will try anything. Not when we've received reinforcements, and they've lost most of their force."
"And," Rick said, "we have three Slayers and one Willow here. If they are bickering, then they are ready to deal with a lot of demons."
"I'm not bickering!" Vi protested.
Xander coughed, then smiled at Beckett. "Anyway. I would like to officially welcome you to the stock human vampire hunter association."
"What?" Beckett jerked.
"Hey! No poaching! I've already recruited her for the New York Watchers!" Castle glared at the younger man. Even if he was joking, there were some lines you didn't cross.
Xander laughed. "More seriously, how are you holding up? You were hurt before we met up."
"We're not about to collapse on you," Beckett said.
Castle nodded. He wasn't quite certain if the detective simply didn't want to get carted around - after the third time the pallet truck had a little accident, he thought it would be safer and less painful to crawl if needed rather than sit down on that - but he wasn't about to contradict her. "Yes. We'll be feeling this in the morning, but we're fine."
"Fine or F.I.N.E.?" Xander asked, then, chuckling, made his way back to the now-moving pallet truck before Beckett caught the joke.
Which reminded Castle that he still needed to get his gun back.
*****
"Ah… sweet smog of New York! How have we missed you!" Castle exclaimed when they finally left the tunnels. He'd probably have to burn his clothes, and not just because of the dried demon blood and whatever else it was. "Vi! Get the plastic sheets and the deodorisers from the trunk."
"You know, Castle, if your car ever gets searched, and a cop finds the weapons, and the plastic sheets, you'll have to answer a few rather pointed questions," Beckett said.
"I'll point them at my hunting license, and the pictures taken from my trip to the Everglades." Rick grinned.
"Did you think of that before or after you were searched for the first time?" Beckett raised an eyebrow at him.
"Oh, look, they got a van ready for the seal." Castle pointed at where the Scoobies were manhandling - slayerhandling, to be precise - the seal into the car. "Although a white nondescript van is certainly not the most inconspicuous means to transport something. All the villains use them. Or black vans."
"Not everyone thinks that life conforms to books, Castle."
"Detective!" He put his hand over his heart. "Books - and, unfortunately for my author's soul, movies and TV series even more so - do influence people. I bet that many people would think a white van is more suspicious than say… a purple party car."
"Did you test that? It sounds oddly specific." Beckett coked her head to the side. Lisa was still holding her hand, and hadn't spoken a word in an hour.
"No." It hadn't been a real test, after all.
"Involuntarily." Vi was there, grinning.
"Frumpy. Dumpy. Convent," Castle said, glaring at her. They had agreed to never speak of that again!
"I'm silent like a grave!" Vi said.
"Which, given our experience, isn't always that silent."
"A graveyard is actually far more quiet than any flat in New York," Spike cut in. "Even in Sunnydale, where there were more undead in graveyards than corpses, I never had to deal with loud neighbours as much as in London."
"That's because you killed your neighbours in Sunnydale," Xander said.
"It was more like pest control. Damn fledglings thought they were Dracula, until I showed them otherwise." Spike grinned and pulled out a blood bag from his pocket, then cursed when he noticed that it had been punctured during whatever fight his group had been in.
"So, what happens with the seal now?" Beckett said.
"It'll be transported to a safe place," Castle said. "Archived with proper documentation, so our descendants will know what it is, and how to deal with any trouble." There wouldn't be any forgotten relics in the Council's archives on Rupert's watch. With a grin, he added: "Imagine the final scenes from Indiana Jones!"
"I'd rather not imagine that there are that many dangerous magical artifacts around, thank you," Beckett said dryly.
Castle nodded. "Understandable."
"That was your cue to tell me that there aren't that many dangerous magical artifacts, Castle."
"Ah… I would love to, detective, but I think you also didn't want me to lie to you, so…" Castle said.
Beckett used a few Russian curses Castle wasn't familiar with yet. He hoped he'd be able to sneak them past his editor in the next novel.
*****
Two hours later, everyone was back in Castle's apartment, showered and with their wounds treated. Castle had turned out to be 'just bruised'. Given how quickly his family and friends had turned from 'you're hurt! Let us help you' to 'you'll be fine then', he wasn't quite certain if he should be glad nothing was broken.
He was glad that Beckett wasn't seriously hurt, of course. The woman was sitting in the most comfortable armchair he had, watching as the Slayers went through the mountain of pizza and other take-out food Alexis, bless her diligent, responsible mind, had ordered as soon as she had heard they had been victorious.
"You said you could wipe the memories of the other victims."
Castle tensed. He knew what she was about to say. "You want to use it on Marconi?"
She looked at him. "You wouldn't have to kill him."
He shook his head. "Even if we could remove everything we needed from his memory - that would need a thorough interrogation, which I doubt we could do while he's under guard - that kind of memory loss would be investigated, since his lawyers would insist. And I'd rather not let everyone know that their memories can be removed - or even altered."
"You'd have a man killed for that?"
"No. But I'd have a man killed for working with demons against humanity." Marconi deserved death. He took a deep breath - which hurt his ribs - and added: "Besides, things have been dealt with already."
"What?" She stared at him.
Castle wasn't about to go into details. She was a cop, after all.
Beckett must have realised that, since she scoffed, and looked away.
"You saved a lot of lives today," Rick said after a moment.
"I'm a cop; it's what I do. What I chose to do."
That sounded more than a bit bitter, but Castle didn't think it would do much good to revisit the topic of how to deal with humans working with demons. Instead he offered her a drink.
Sooner or later, Beckett would come around. You only could discover so many dead people, dead children, until you stopped feeling sorry for the scum who helped demons.
Those were rather gloomy thoughts for a victory party, as Buffy had called it, though. So Castle grinned. "We still need to make certain that our stories match, you know."
"Stories?"
He pointed at his back. "The cover for our bruises, remember?"
"Ah. Good idea." She nodded.
"So, what do we tell Agent Snooperson about our sex life? I've got a few ideas already!" He leaned forward, smiling widely, while she gaped at him.
"What?"
"I'm just planning ahead!"
"I bet you are!"
She didn't glare at him. Much. He was making progress!
*****