The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

-------The Valkyrie------



A Crow: Stairway to Heaven / Buffy: The Vampire Slayer Crossover

by Batya

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For Crow: STH fans - This one takes place between the last two episodes of Season 1 (she said hopefully, although from what I've just read on the CrowTVFic digests, it's looking less and less likely. Mark's fan-mail guy thinks the outlook's dim? Sheesh).



For BTVS fans - This one takes place between "Prom" and "Grad #1". I was waiting to see if events in "Grad #2" let me set it in inter-season continuity, but, well, let's not get into that. (July 13! Finally!)







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Darla looked at the clock. Five p.m. Sarah had been home by four-thirty every day this week. Something's wrong. She wouldn't just stay out this late without calling. Last year the woman wouldn't have cared. She'd have crawled into a bottle, banishing worry and hope. Things were different now. Or rather things were different again, because of Sarah.



The first step is admitting that you need help, she thought. An image flashed in her mind of dark eyes in a bloodless face, boring into hers and showing her her daughter's pain and love. She'd since pieced together who it had to have been. A man who her daughter had said, under oath, was dead. A guardian angel, or ghost, alive enough to stand trial.



More things in heaven and earth... I didn't want to face it. It seemed so impossible.. It still seems impossible. But I have to go. I have to find out. Sarah goes there sometimes. Maybe she's there now. Hope spurred Darla as she left for the cemetary where Eric Draven's tombstone still stood. Before she left, she wrote a quick note and left it on the counter, in case her daughter came home.



There was no waking. He simply opened his eyes. One moment nothing, the next, consciousness. It wasn't sleep. He didn't dream.



He'd tried to reach Shelly last night. He'd tried so hard. The reaching had torn him apart. So much for "If I see her again, it'll just happen." Now it was almost evening and the amber light was streaming in. The big black bird was perched on the broken window.



But there was more, a feeling... some undercurrent... "Something's wrong." Eric spoke aloud. He unfolded himself from the crouched position in which he'd spent the night. The black wax of a melted candle fell from his hand, along with a bit of ash where the flame had seared flesh long since healed. "It's late. Sarah was going to come by... Where is she?" Eric couldn't help thinking that this was the point at which the crow would take wing, leading him somewhere. Now I'm doing it to myself. Great.



"Sarah..." The feeling of foreboding became stronger. Since his death, Eric had learned to trust his instincts. At least, the unpleasant ones. God forbid I should have an instinctive feeling that all's right with the world. He left for Sarah's apartment. This time, the crow followed him.



Sarah's mother stood on Eric Draven's grave, looking at his tombstone. Sarah's not here. What was I thinking? I must be insane. She turned to leave, and looked up into a familiar pair of dark eyes.



"I got your note." Eric looked down at her and flashed a quick grin. His normal appearance was at odds with the recalled pale nightmare of guilt.



"You... You're really here. Are you..."



"Looking for Sarah. I got this feeling-- I think something's wrong."



"I'm worried. Call it mother's intuition, I don't know, but I feel the same way. I came here looking for her, and I don't know where to look next. I think I was looking for you, too.



"I didn't think you recognized me. You didn't seem to know me too well in court."



Darla winced at the memory. "I didn't want to think about it. I didn't want to think about what it meant. I'd kept everything separate in my mind." She seemed to straighten, then, changing the subject as though Eric's strange life was much less important than the situation at hand. Which it was. "You helped me... before. Can you help me again?"



"Seems to be what I do, these days. By the way," he said, looking down at the grave, "I do have an apartment."



"Oh. Okay."



"I..." Eric suddenly paused and, birdlike, cocked his head. He seemed to be seeing something that she could not.



"What is it?"



"I don't know. I... remembered something. I need to check it out. I think you should call the police. Tell them Sarah's missing."



"I will. I'm sort of one of their own now, but I don't think they can start a full scale search right away." She paused, and her distress was palpable. "I've told that to enough waiting mothers."



"Well, I can start looking. I have."



With that, Eric turned to leave. He took a step, then turned back. "I'll bring her home. I promise."



Her voice trembled slightly. "Thank you."





Eric stopped his motorcycle in an alley. Sarah's skateboard was where the crow's eye view had shown. Eric knelt and took the skateboard into his arms. He closed his eyes and reached.



hands grabbing shoulders



Eric's eyes flew open. He forced them shut again, reached again.



Hands grabbed her shoulders. She held tight to her board, tried to swing it, but the woman pushed her down. She landed face first on top of the overturned board, the woman's knee in her back. 'Hurry up!' she heard. 'Knock her out. We need to make Sunnydale tonight!' Then she felt the prick of a needle. After that there was separation, floating, darkness.



Eric dropped the skateboard, shaking. Gotta think. Focus. South. Sunnydale is in California. South of Port Columbia. Interstate 5. With a smooth motion he leapt onto his motorcycle, gunned the engine, and took off, heading for the freeway.



Eric called Albrecht from the gas station as he filled his tank.



"Eric?"



"I thought I was the psychic one."



"I got Caller I.D. Where are you?"



"Oregon. Albrecht, I've got bad news. Sarah didn't run away and she didn't get stranded somewhere. She was taken."



"Where?"



"Sunnydale, California."



The detective asked no questions. "I'm on my way. Captain! I've got a lead!" The cell phone clicked shut.



"Yes, well, it's only one lead out of how many?" Vincennes looked frustrated. "I owe that kid. I want to find her as badly as you do!" He was even pacing slightly. "The good news is that that lead puts her in California, so we can call the Feds in on this. The bad news is that they won't start in on it until it's been long enough to declare her missing. Just because I wouldn't wait..." His tone was vaguely reproachful. Albrecht couldn't tell if he was chiding the FBI for their procedures or Daryl for doubting his intent to help the girl who'd watched his family when he could not.



Vincennes stopped. He looked over at Capshaw, who had an arm around Darla's shoulder. "Albrecht, go to California. We need the other detectives here to chase down the other fifty leads we've got in since the word got out. We'll be spread too thin as it is."



Albrecht nodded, and grabbed his coat. "Hell, if worse comes to worse, I can get backup from the locals. They can't be totally incompetent. Keep me posted." He stopped, then added, "Sir."



"Am I glad he remembered the 'Sir'," Vincennes muttered to himself. "Otherwise I might start to think he didn't respect my authority."



When he reached the California state line, Eric called Albrecht again. Daryl answered his phone with a terse, "What?"



"How long have you been driving?"



"Since you called me."



"Look, I know you don't want to hear this, especially not from me, but you need to sleep."



"I'll sleep after we find Sarah."



"You're not going to find anybody if you drive into a tree! Look, Albrecht, you piss me off enough and I'll put my friend on the phone. Maybe he'll have a more convincing argument. It'll be a damn sight more poetic anyway. Probably something about blood and asphalt."



"You wouldn't."



"Try me. Look, I don't need to rest, and I'm going to keep looking."



"Fine." Albrecht sounded resigned. "I'll pull off and get some sleep."



Eric kept riding. He turned from a California stretch of Interstate 5 to the start of that state's Highway 101. As he moved south into the central coast region, he passed open fields full of crows. There were more and more each mile, rising and wheeling at intervals, only to settle again. Then suddenly there were no more crows, and Eric's own guide was absent. To Eric's right, a sign proclaimed, "Welcome to Sunnydale." The last bit of sunlight vanished.



As Eric neared the city proper, a flash of white disturbed his focus. Something moved at the side of the road. Sarah? No. It's a girl, but taller. Or maybe it is her. He pulled right.



"Can you help me out?" the girl asked. Not Sarah. Damn. "I broke down over there," she waved to her right, "and my car's stuck in the mud. Can you give me a ride into town?"



"Sure. I'm going that way. Get on." The girl turned away suddenly, hands to her temples. "What's wrong?"



"Nothing," she said, keeping her face hidden as her brows grew thick ridges and her canines lengthened into fangs. Idly, she thought about how nice it would be to have this handsome stranger as her first real meal. Then the newly risen vampire wheeled. Arms wide, she launched herself at her breakfast.



There was no conflict this time. Eric let go and the Crow surged forth, stronger somehow, almost giddy with power. This didn't prevent him from being slammed into a tree. The fledgling growled as she struggled to force her teeth into her prey's neck. She managed to tear his skin slightly, only to rear back, throwing him to the ground as she spat. "Ashes! Ashes?"



From the ground came his voice, light and mocking. "We all fall down." The fledgling had no time to react before the stranger grabbed her ankles and pulled, bringing her to the pavement. He leapt, landing with one knee in her back and a hand to either side of her head, in position to snap her neck.



I'm taking a life. You... I... shouldn't... He paused, and in that instant, a piece of her flowed into him. The vision was horribly empty, filled with nothing but a surging, inhuman hunger.



She took advantage of his distraction as she threw him off and rose. Crow and vampire faced one another, one snarling, the other grinning, beckoning. The vampire tensed, about to accept the invitation, when she exploded into motes of dust.



A blonde girl stood revealed, wooden stake in hand. "Are you a good guy," she asked, "or are you next?" Then the girl ducked as a second vampire launched at her from the trees. She threw him easily and wheeled to face him. "My mistake. You must be next."



The fight was brief. The girl landed two solid kicks and a punch, and staked the creature while it recoiled. She heard the man murmur 'go away,' and turned. Buffy shook her head. "They never say 'thank-you'. So what's with the make... up..."



"What makeup?" Eric asked innocently.



"Okay, that might work where you're from, but denial's an art in Sunnydale and you're not an artist. I'm going to ask one more time. What are you?" Her voice hardened and her body tensed.



"I believe he's what's known in supernatural circles as a Crow, Buffy," came a voice from behind Eric. The voice was older, male, and apparently English. "He shouldn't act violently towards you unless you threaten him."



"Giles! Where's Will and Oz?" Buffy asked. "They were going to come out tonight - are they okay?" Her eyes never left Eric's.



"Ah, yes. Willow thought you might have forgotten. I came to remind you. I didn't want you to worry."



"Oh, still the full moon, huh. I did forget. Will's with Oz, isn't she?"



"Indeed." The Englishman walked around Eric to stand at Buffy's side. He was older, Eric judged, late 30s at least, looking at once both academic and... dangerous. "She's researching spells from contemporary sources. If I may say so, she's made some encouraging..."



Eric moved towards his bike. Buffy held up an arm. "You still haven't answered my question. I want to hear it from you."



"Fine. I'm a Crow. Harmless unless provoked. Now if you both don't mind..." He put his hands on the grips.



"Wait," Giles said. "Please." Giles turned to Buffy. "Crows generally have an important purpose. They're also drawn, like Slayers, to supernatural threat. It would behoove us, I think, to find out what he wants here."



May as well try the truth, Eric thought. "I'm looking for a missing girl. A friend. She's about thirteen - I have a picture."



"Any leads?" Buffy asked.



"Just one. A city's name. Sunnydale."



"How do I know you're telling the truth?"



In response, he reached for her, softly touching her face. Suddenly Buffy was elsewhere, someone else, a girl on a skateboard. Hands grabbed her shoulders and her instincts kicked in. Her arms clamped around Eric's and he was flipped over her back into the same tree he'd met earlier.



"What the hell was that?" Buffy said as Eric rose, shaking his head.



"Crow TV," Eric said, assuming a ready stance, just in case. "That was Sarah getting taken. Wanna see more?"



"That's enough," Giles said, moving between them. "If you've any more to show, you can show me."



"It's okay, Giles," Buffy said. "That was really weird, but it felt real, too. I buy it, but you know from this stuff. Your call."



"I trust your judgment, Buffy." Giles looked at the tall, dark man. "I believe we can help you. If you'll follow us to town?"



"Whatever."



As Eric gunned his motor, he heard the girl say, "So, is Wesley the Wussly gonna be a problem?"



"Ordinarily, he might be, if he's up on his studies. Crows have a certain... reputation, though they are a rather obscure type of undead."



"Type of what?"



"But," Giles continued, "I believe Mr. Wyndham-Pryce to be otherwise occupied with Miss Chase this evening."



"I did not need to know that." Buffy blinked. "Type of what?" she repeated.



"I'll explain in the car." The door slammed, the car pulled forward, and Eric followed close behind.



At a familiar "Will, you busy?" Willow turned from her computer.



"Got a newbie." That was Buffy. Willow considered her friend and Giles, and then took in the new arrival. Tall, cute, a little older... "Oh!" she said, then, "Oh. Um, hi?"



Observing this exchange, a caged beast growled, lunging itself at the bars that bound it. Willow knelt down beside the furred creature. "Oz, don't get jealous. I'm just saying hi." She stood and looked at the dark-haired man apologetically. "He's a little territorial right now."



Eric stared. "What...?"



"Oz. My boyfriend. Werewolf. I'm Willow. And you are?"



"Eric Draven." The werewolf stopped growling at this, sat back, and whined.



"Eric's a Crow," Buffy added.



"Okay, if you say so. What's he doing here? I mean, first we let Cordelia in, but that was one thing, and while the cat's most likely out of the bag here, I thought we were going to be a little more, well, exclusive."



"He's not going to be a regular," Buffy said. "He's got a problem."



"And no one else can help, so he thought he'd hire 'The A Team'? 'I pity the fool,'" Xander entered.



"Eric, Xander. Xander, Eric. No Oz-watching for you guys tonight. We've got a missing girl to find."



"You're all kids," Eric observed, said observation followed by a throat clearing. "Okay, except you. Why aren't you calling the police?"



The gang traded looks. "The police are in the pocket of a mayor bent on becoming an immortal demon. Not a great deal of help there," Giles put in. "And there's another concern. Your power," he said, looking at Eric, "is disturbingly easy to steal or suborn with the correct knowledge. The fewer members of Sunnydale's rougher element that know of you, the better."



"There's something very wrong with this town."



"Okay," Xander said, "who wants to explain 'Hellmouth'. Extra points if you can tell the guy why a demonic cult is more likely to have his moppet than the run-of-the-mill nutbar."



"Cult or not," Buffy said, "natural or super, there's one place to go for information in this town." Willow flexed her fingers and reached for her mouse. "Willie's bar."



"Oh," Willow's face fell. "Well, if you don't mind, I'll look on the web anyway - virgin girls, full moons, that sort of thing." She saw Eric turn a shade paler. "Um, I probably shouldn't have said that. Hey, can I get your cell number if I find anything?"



"There's one thing I must ask," Giles said. "If she's dead, will you kill?"



"I can't promise that I won't. Not for either of us." Then, with dawning apprehension, "You know about Snakes." Giles nodded.



"Snakes?" Xander asked. "What snakes?"



"One of the ways to steal power from a Crow is to provoke him into a killing rage."



"Look, I still don't get this Crow thing," Xander interrupted. He was ignored.



"Snakes are only one type of creature that may be spawned when a Crow takes a life. You must face the very real possibility that the girl you seek is already dead..."



"Stop it," Eric said, turning away.



But Giles continued, relentless, "And that you cannot kill those who took her from you." An odd sound, like crinkling paper, hit Buffy's ears. She saw Eric turn back, face bone white, eyes seemingly painted like a harlequin's. His mouth turned up at the corners in an exaggerated black grin.



"You did that on pur-pose," the Crow sang. Then, "You must not like Willie."



"Not particularly, no."



"Anyone ever tell you you have a really creepy smile," Xander commented. He was clutching the table, knuckles white.



"Um, I think that's the point," Willow observed.



"Willie's Bar."



"Riiight," Buffy said. "You're driving."



He swept his arms forward in an "after you" gesture. "Let's go."





Buffy held on to to the man as he followed her directions. Great. Now I'm Ghost Rider's biker chick. Oh, how the mighty Slayer has fallen. Still, she realized, this is kinda fun. The fact that the driver was a grinning, vengeful spirit seemed to make it even more exciting. As they pulled up to the bar, she said, "Whew! That was fast. I'm pumped and ready to kick the ass of someone much weaker than... me..." but the Crow was already inside.



When Buffy entered, he was perched on the bar, holding Willie up by his collar.



"Buffy!" the weaselly man gasped hoarsely. "You gotta help me. He's evil - I don't know what he is but he's going to kill me!" When Buffy just stood there, smiling slightly, Willie squeaked, "C'mon, slay him already!"



"Let the lady choose," the Crow said. "One door - the Lady, one door - the Tiger. What a dilemma. As I recall, that story turned on the question of the truth versus a lie. Only here, if you lie, the Tiger eats you." He snapped his teeth and Willie flinched.



Then Buffy said, "And the Lady kicks your head in. Spill, Willie. I know even you don't kidnap kids."



"Kids! What the hell are you talking about?! All I did was dig up some info on this freak!"



A second later, his face hit the bar, and when the Crow pulled him up by his hair, they were nose to bloody nose. Eyes wide, the specter said, "You're a liar."



"I swear! Some guy came in - not a vamp, it was broad daylight - with a sketch. Said you lived to the north. The face on the sketch was half human and half...that. I ask around, find a few people who know a few things, give him last known address and known acquantances, and bam! That's it. All I know. Never seen him before or since."



"Known acquantances... Sarah..." The Crow's soft voice was dangerous.



"Aw, geez, that's the kid?" Willie flinched away as best he could, trying to cower from the fist that cocked back, aimed at his head.



"Just because I can't kill you doesn't mean we can't have some fun." He tried to swing, and found that his arm wouldn't move. From behind him, Buffy said, "Let go."



"You first."



"He's too scared to lie. If you don't believe him do that touchy thing, but..."



Then the cell phone rang. Buffy grabbed it and opened it with her other hand. "Hello? Got it, Willow. We're coming." She closed the phone and said, "That was Will. Something big and black just flew through the library like a rocket and dropped a key on the floor. Look, I'm getting a cramp. Can we go?" In answer, the Crow let go of Willie's hair and threw him backwards.



As they left the bar, Buffy said to Willie, "Remember, I saved your tail tonight."



"Don't do me no more favors."



They went to the bike. The Crow threw a leg over and Buffy sat down behind him.



"I believed him," he said before starting the bike.



"I know."





The sky was beginning to show a false dawn as they got back to the library. The moon was sinking beyond the horizon. Eric, who was Eric again, entered with Buffy as the last bit of it disappeared.



In the library, the beast within the bars was howling and shrinking, dwindling to an ordinary-looking blonde teenage boy. The boy, Oz, Eric assumed, looked up, saw Eric first, and stared slightly.



"Well, this was unexpected. Um, Willow, can I have my clothes?"



The red-haired girl handed Oz a pair of boxers through the bars. "So," he said as he dressed, "You are Eric Draven, right?"



"How did you..."



"You used to play with Hangman's Joke, right? I saw you at the Port Columbia Indie-Fest, right before you... died." Oz paused for a beat., then said, "Which would pretty much explain you being in Sunnydale, wouldn't it?" Seemingly unfazed he continued, tucking in his shirt. "Anyway, great guitar work. I play guitar too. 'The Dingoes Ate My Baby.'"



Despite himself, Eric's mouth turned up at the corners. "I hope that's the band."



Giles cleared his throat softly, and Eric turned. "We left the key as we found it," the librarian said, indicating the metal object on the floor before him.



Eric knelt. Before he picked it up, he said, without turning, "When this is over, you're going to tell me why you know more about what I am than I do."



"Agreed," Giles said, and Eric grasped the key. A flash took him to a place where he was scared, cold, and mad as hell. He tried the key in the lock, but it didn't work. Then the door opened from outside and someone hit his arm.



Eric gasped, dropping the key. "She's alive." He grabbed the key again, listening for a distinctive sound, looking for a landmark. Then he was someone else, but not Sarah. He was picking the key up from the ground and looking at a street sign. "Valley and Ardmore," Eric said. He headed for the door.



"Eric," Buffy said, "you know this is a setup, right?"



"The crow brought..."



"Actually," Willow said, "I didn't really see it. It was black and fast, really fast, but it was gone before I turned around. And Xander was in the bathroom."



"It's also possible your crow might have been deceived," Giles stated. "Buffy told me about the sketch while you were viewing the key. We are dealing with someone who knows what you are, and so most likely knows your powers and how to use or counter them."



"Well, anyone have any better ideas? Because I'm going to Valley and Ardmore."



"And you know where this is, how?" Buffy smiled. "Guys, I think Eric needs a tour guide."



"We'd hate for him to look like a tourist, though," Xander said, and then, "God, I hung around Cordelia far too long."



"I get what you mean, though," Willow said. "We'll just have to think of something."



When Eric pulled into the alley off of Ardmore Street, it was almost completely deserted. A group of teens drove past in a van, honking and yelling, but the noise trailed off quickly, as though the car had suddenly stopped. Then he thought he heard a car door slam. It was the sign he'd been waiting for.



He flipped off of his bike, and saw a shape huddled in a corner, facing the wall. It appeared to be a young girl. You'd think I'd stop falling for this, he thought, and he wasn't sure which part of him thought it. The girl's head swiveled slightly. "Help me," she whispered. Then she stood and ran around a corner. Eric followed, the Crow clamoring within him. Soon, he promised.



When Eric reached the girl, at the intersection of several narrow, darkened streets, she let down her hood and inquired, "Eric? Eric Draven?"



"Who's asking?" Eric said slowly.



The girl seemed to take that as a confirmation. Her eyes went from deep-set and haunted to wide, and she smiled a pleased smile. "We've been expecting you."



"We?"



"We," she confirmed, and something moved at her feet. A young boa constrictor wound its way up her ankle. She kept her eyes fixed on Eric's as she drew her knife, and yellow scales traced a path down her cheeks. On her, they looked like freckles. Eric heard a noise behind him and spun. The noise, a low hissing, seemed to come from all sides. The sources revealed themselves, five others wearing snakes draped across their shoulders and arms, stepping from niches and alleyways.



"Snakes," the Crow said. "Why does it always have to be Snakes?"



The young-looking girl feinted and the Crow kicked the knife out of her hand. Still, there were five more, and the girl was hardly helpless unarmed. She flipped back, attempting to kick him in the chin as she went. He jerked back, barely avoiding the blow. Then both combatants turned their heads at a scraping noise.



"Is this a private ambush," Buffy asked, picking up the fallen knife, "or can we all party?"



The Slayer rose from her crouch. She grinned, her enthusiasm matching the Crow's painted expression. Buffy drew a sword from a sheath mounted on her back, and moved back-to-back with the ghost Or whatever. Gotta ask Giles later. Then she ducked as a tall male Snake, moving with the brazen confidence of the undead, swung a punch, not bothering with his blade. He tried to recover, but managed only an "Oof!" as Buffy ran him through.



"Don't bring a knife to a swordfight," Buffy said, drawing the blade out. The Snake only shook his head scoldingly... then looked down to see green light pouring from his abdomen. "This sword kills demons," Buffy said. "I don't think you're in that league." Now clumsy, the Snake slashed, but missed, giving Buffy an opening. Two more strokes spilled light all over the alley, and the Snake vanished.



Buffy looked around quickly, taking stock. The Snakes had limited themselves - they couldn't attack Eric from the back now, which only left room in the alley for one-on-one fighting. If two of the five snakes left attacked either of them, they'd get in each others' way.



This didn't prevent two from engaging the Crow while a third, the young female, made a spinning leap to take Buffy on. She glanced at the knife. "My snake found that for me. It's a part of me." She stared at Buffy. "Did you really think I'd let you have it?" Then she slid forward and down, her feet tangling with the Slayer's. Buffy fell forward, but she landed with the knife pinning the Snake girl to the ground.



"Finders, keepers," Buffy said. Then the girl reached up and closed her hand about the Slayer's throat.



"My snake also told me how he kills." Spots danced in front of Buffy's eyes for the barest of seconds. Her free hand flailed and closed around something dry, leathery, and moving. Instinctively she squeezed, hard, and the girl let go, looking confused. Buffy took her opportunity and sliced with the Snake knife, three deep cuts in a zig-zag across the female's chest. As the creature vaporized, more explosively than a vampire, Buffy looked at her hand, and found that she held a dead snake. She tossed it away with an "Ugh!"



The Slayer swiveled to find the Crow holding two more knives, facing only two Snakes. The confined space kept her from aiding him, either, but he didn't seem to need the help. Where one Crow would have been outnumbered by six Snakes, he seemed to have little trouble with two at a time. He was getting faster as he fought, becoming less and less human, more and more a machine. The Slayer found herself anticipating his moves as they came with a supernatural, inborn grace that she recognized. He was a blur. The Snakes were dead, Buffy realized, only they didn't know it yet.



The Crow, for his part, felt something flowing into him from the very air and ground of this place. Eric doesn't like it here. Too bad. I could stay... He felt a touch of panic, not all his other half's. Just kidding. He lunged forward, driving knives into both Snakes at once, while their blows missed him by centimeters. He felt almost alive. As one of his opponents backed away, clutching a bright gash, the other howled, enraged. He charged and the Crow threw him easily. The Slayer, sword raised, cleaved the Snake in two before he could land.



And then there was one. This Snake stared, then began to back away. The Crow gave slow, deliberate chase, as did Buffy, and their opponent turned and ran.



"He's getting away."



"I guess he is."



The two heard a motorcycle start. "Not mine," the Crow said.



Then a car's ignition turned over, and the tall spirit's telephone rang again. Buffy picked up.



"You're on him? Good. We'll see you there."





Buffy sat behind the Crow on his motorcycle, waiting for Willow's next call. "Who are you?" she asked.



"What do you mean?"



"Right now, who are you? Oz said you were dead. Giles said a Crow was a returned soul, which kind of makes you a ghost. When you don't look scary, you act different. Who are you?"



He turned, revealing a face whose colors wavered between white and flesh. "I'm not sure," he whispered. "When I came back, I thought I had a purpose. Then I found out that vengeance could destroy me, too. I'm not sure who I am, what I am, or why. This..." he gestured, "all this is because of me! How can I help anyone if I bring things like this to them?"



"It isn't easy being chosen, is it?" Buffy asked. "You don't know if you should be a part of life, or if it's unfair to the people you love. When we were driving into town before, Giles told me that a Crow was chosen from souls who died with terrible sadness. He said a bird chose you. I don't know who made me the Chosen One, but whoever it was really pissed me off."



Eric found himself back completely, though he knew it would be brief. He knew his face had changed too. He saw himself reflected in Buffy's eyes. "Someone once told me that love made me strong. Then I let myself care and things like this happen. I don't know what to believe."



"Don't doubt it. Don't let yourself forget." The Slayer was serious. "If you do, if you back off because you don't want them to get hurt, then they'll be hurt worse than you can imagine. I don't just mean in some sappy new-age way, either. I've tried to protect them that way, and it's nearly gotten them killed."



"Then what do I do?"



"I dunno. 'Love as if it won't hurt'? I read that on a bumper sticker."



"There aren't any easy answers, are there?"



Buffy smiled. It was a smile that had more years to it than it should have. Eric wondered just what this girl had seen to age her so. "That was kinda the point."



They were looking at each other in silence when Willow's next call came. Eric answered and listened while Buffy waited expectantly. "He doubled back and went north of us. They tracked him to the woods, near the city limits."



He handed off the phone, and Buffy related, "Oz says he saw him run into a cave near milepost 9. They'll wait for us at the van." Then, into the phone, she said, "Tell Giles it's Snakes."



Buffy snapped the phone shut and looked at Eric. "Who needs a crow when you have a werewolf with a cell?" Eric gunned the engine in response and they turned north toward the woods. As they approached the van, Eric felt the nearing confrontation in his blood and bones, if truly he had either. Giles' words of warning returned to him, and they served to summon the Crow yet again.



Eric, let me out. This is my fight.



This is Sarah! My fight too! If I let you out, I am staying!



Agreed.



And Eric let the change wash over him, clenching his hands as the skin tightened and paled. The Crow saw Xander looking out the rear window, mouthing something that looked like "... can't hurt me. Clowns can't hurt me. Clowns can't hurt me." His grin widened.



Not that funny.



Are you still here? Good. I miss you when you're gone.



Willow glanced back at the nearing shape from the window of Oz's van. "Looks like Eric's got his game face on again."



"His timing's good," Oz said, setting the parking brake.



"So what is this, our third giant snake?" Xander asked, swinging his legs out onto the ground. "Because I think I see where this situation's going."



The gang disembarked. Buffy paused, slipping one last knife into her bandolier as she handed another to Giles. They weren't proper throwing knives, but they'd do. My kingdom for an enchanted shuriken. Those puppies fly nice. She focused. Girl. Saving. Very doable. She walked past the milepost, to the cavern mouth beyond. She tore off the iron lock holding the old gate shut and the gang fell into step behind her, all wary. The passage was small enough that the Crow could not push forward, so he was in the rear as the group came suddenly upon a large chamber. They stood on a raised entry that mirrored another natural dais at the cave's rear. Theirs held concealing stalagmites, but the facing platform did not. However, it did have two occupants, and the cavern floor held several more.



Eric, sharing control, looked out over the grotto. He saw the two upon their stone platform and froze.



The woman's skin was completely bloodless. She wore a black smile whose upswept wings touched the corners of eyes that reflected blood-red light. Black lines ran from her temples to the hollows of her cheeks. Ice-white hair framed her, running in loose braids over armor of leather and metal. Xander, at least, was transfixed by the vision.



Eric was looking past her. His eyes were riveted to her right, where a beast atop a plain metal helmet drew them. Waves of corruption emanated from it, feeling wrong, perverse. The immense crow, eyes glowing bright red, cocked its head in acknowledgment.



"I would not have predicted this," Oz murmured.



The Snakes and their familiars, eight in all, lay torpid in the gloom. They cast adoring gazes upon the armored woman. The pythons themselves seemed fascinated by the bird, and it occurred vaguely to Eric that it should have been the other way around.



"I take it this is bad," Buffy said.



"Wrong," the Crow whispered. "This is so...wrong..." He began to feel it now. Opposing forces - the power of this place that had made him faster and stronger flowed also through the woman and her crow. It formed a shield keeping something else at bay. "I feel something... eyes..." Thousands of eyes at once, all from different angles, circling. It made him dizzy, then it receded, ever so slightly.



"Okay. They haven't noticed us yet," said Buffy. "Ideas?"



The part of Eric that was human was dwindling fast. The sophistication was draining from the Crow. Eric hung on to his humanity with blackened fingernails, but found himself whispering, eyes wide, head cocked, "We have to take them. Take them all. Take them now."



Oz looked at him, concerned. "Eric, you all there, man? What's going on?"



"I don't know how long 'Eric's' going to hang in here..."



Giles turned his head sharply, grabbing Eric by his shoulders and turning him, looking into his eyes. "I know it's hard. I know you're fighting your instincts. You must keep control if you want to get Sarah out of here alive."



That did it. Eric snapped back to himself, hard. The Crow looked at the Slayer. "Ideas. You do this all the time. You tell me."



Buffy took a look at the grotto. "We can't get past them without being seen."



"So, distraction time?" Willow said. "She probably wants to talk. All the big bad guys want to talk."



Xander spoke up. "Yeah. Then the two strong people fight while..." he looked behind the woman.



Buffy followed his glance. "Got it."



"I just can't believe she hasn't noticed us yet," Xander added.



"She has," the Crow said, grinning mirthlessly. "The crow saw us. She's just waiting for her cue."



Eric's cell phone rang. As one, every eye, human, avian, and serpentine, turned towards the group.



"Draven? Albrecht. I'm just outside town. There are crows surrounding my car. I can't move. It's like Hitchcock out here! What the hell is going on?"



"Albrecht, this is a really bad time. I have a lead. If I don't speak to you in 15 minutes, plow through them. Milepost 9." Eric left the cell phone on and open. He set it on the ground as the pale, armored woman rose from her wooden throne and looked across the grotto.



"So I have managed to lure yet another Valkyrie home, and this one with companions. Will you return to Valhalla, or will you, too, challenge my right to rule it? Will you, too, deny our right to choose its honored dead?"



Eric raised his wild, white-rimmed eyes to meet hers. "Where's. Sarah."



"Ah, the bait?" The female indicated the barred door behind her, gating off a darkened hallway. "There. You can see her again if you do not fight me."



The Crow forced down the instincts that sang to him. "All right." He very consciously took a breath. "To keep her safe."



"Then come, let me touch you. Not that I don't trust you, but we've only just met. Let me see that you mean what you say."



"I don't think that would be wise," Giles murmured. Eric held up a hand.



"No." I'm sorry, Sarah. I can't let her inside my head.



"Well, then I will tell you my tale and you may tell me yours. Then I will give you one more chance, and then I'll destroy you."



Crow resurgent, Eric grinned. "You've done this before."



"Only a few times. When someone gets as good as you at sending immortal heroes to Hel, my chosen sense it, and they tell me. Then something must be done." The huge crow cawed loudly in agreement. "They find the Valkyrie, find the things that keep them from Valhalla. They bring those things here and the Valkyrie follows."



"Chosen. Heroes. Right," Buffy spoke up, looking around the cave. "You killed all these people yourself."



The female smiled. "I deemed them worthy. And by the way, who asked you? For that matter, who are you?"



Buffy shook her head. "You really have been living in a cave."



Willow stepped forward. "Um, guys? I want to hear her out." She cast a meaningful look behind her, then turned and grinned weakly. "So, you're a Valkyrie?"



"How else could I choose which dead to shepherd to the next plane of existence?"



"Next plane?" Xander muttered. "This is a cave! If this was Valhalla, there'd be beer. I read Thor."



"Not to mention we'd be dead too," Oz observed.



Giles looked at them. "I doubt very much that this is Valhalla. I believe that this female Crow thinks it is, but I also believe that she's quite mad."



The self-styled Valkyrie showed no signs of having heard them. She continued, "My tale, then. The short version, I think. I may have eternity, but you very definitely do not. A long time ago, I came to the Territories to perform The Ring. I was the Valkyrie Brunhilde."



"Oh, I like that opera," Willow winced. "Even if it is Wagner."



"Achem. I was killed, as was my Siegfried and love. He moved on and I did not. I killed the manager, who had killed us out of jealousy. He came back as well and did battle with me. Then I realized that I had become what I portrayed. I was the blood of the gods - a Valkyrie. I captured my first chosen and bound him here. I... spoke... with him until he believed as well." She stopped and her eyes narrowed. "Today you gave him to Hel." She raised her arms and the Snakes stood. They spread out as Xander, Oz, Willow, Buffy and Giles went back to back, with Eric behind them. Buffy drew two large knives and Giles one, removing his glasses and holding the weapon like an old friend. "One last chance. Join me here or you leave this world and I take the child as mine. She has a warrior's heart."



In answer, Eric leapt over Giles' head, flipping over the ring of Snakes, landing in a two-footed kick to the female's chest. He jumped back and circled as she rose, unharmed. The female cocked her head, listening. "Oh, but Odin's raven keeps his brother at bay. That's hardly fair. They both should witness this." And Eric felt the barrier weaken, admitting one. He saw the cave from the air in a flash of double vision.



The female Crow drew a sword. Eric rose on the balls of his feet, a dead Snake's knife in each hand. Arms raised like the wings of a bird, he asked, "Is this the part where I say, 'There can be only one'?" Then he danced towards her, slashing, spinning, ducking her thrusts.



The female looked at her arm. A tiny tear leaked red light. "First blood." She sounded impressed. "Or close enough."



The Snakes closed on Buffy and her crew. Four faced Giles and four Buffy, confronting the obvious threats. Thus, they missed Willow chanting in Latin, and were caught by surprise when she tossed a handful of powder and shouted "Turn!" The three Snakes in her line of fire drew themselves up wearing expressions of abject terror. They turned and fled, one tripping over her serpent companion, falling on her knife, and vanishing in a blaze of green light. The light distracted the scaled man closest to Buffy. She plunged a knife into his heart with a practiced motion, bringing her other arm up to decapitate him in one stroke. He vaporized, to leave the Snake behind him to aim a kick at Buffy's head. Buffy grabbed his leg and tossed him over her shoulder, then whirled to face those confronting Giles and the gang.



"Can we talk about this?" Xander was asking.



To his surprise, a scale-faced man said, "Sure. What the hell." Of course, he slashed at Xander as he said it. Xander wobbled backwards and tripped, falling into Willow.



"Sorry."



"S'okay." Willow ducked out of the melee, looking for something to throw.



"Talk!" Xander shouted. "I said talk! Y'know, when the comic relief asks if we can 'talk about it', you're supposed to make a nonverbal response unless you're serious!"



"Sure," the serpentine man said, casting a quick glance at the female Crow, engaged with Eric. "Let's go over here." The two of them moved to the side, out of the way of the fighting.



"It's like this," he said. "I'm a Snake. I have two jobs; One: to be evil, and two: to kill Crows. If they get strong enough to make Snakes, the Snakes get to try to kill them." He ducked as a knife hurtled past his head.



"Um, not to be rude," Xander asked, leaping to avoid a wild kick, "but how do you know? Eric up there doesn't seem to have a lot of inside info."



"Hey, just like Adam and Eve. A Snake's gift is knowledge. Pasha here told me." He looked at the albino python on the ground beside him. "Crows have... compensations. They get inside your head. It isn't supposed to work on Snakes." He lunged at Xander, throwing them both flat. A large chunk of debris flew over their heads and smashed into the wall behind them. "But this Crow - she's strong. Too strong. Crows are supposed to bring mortals their pain and the pain of others." He looked distressed. "When she touches you, you don't feel pain. You just feel her. You do what she wants and it feels right."



"Great. Power-up, courtesy of the Hellmouth. So when did you snap out of it?"



The Snake looked at Xander. "About thirty seconds ago."



"How do I..."



"Know? Well, how about the fact that I'm not killing you right now? Look, I think it was because you talked to me instead of screaming and running. Don't spoil it, okay?"



"Point taken. Well, if you can waffle on the 'being evil' thing, we could use a hand. I mean, you've already compromised on the 'killing Crows' part."



"Not really," he said. "I mean, how many Crows have I helped her lure here and take out?" He moved to flank some of the Snake cadre.



Xander followed. They lunged on the Snake that Willow was "distracting" with rocks and bore him to the ground. Xander's ally held him down, while Xander tied his torn flannel around the Snake's arms and legs, moving like a professional soldier. "Uh, if I were you, I wouldn't mention that to Eric if he wins."



"You'd better hope he does." On the last word a crow, normal in size, flew past them into the cave and perched on an outcropping. It screamed out a challenge to the swollen creature watching the battles, who echoed the cry, almost mockingly.



With the entrance of his soul's guide, the Crow felt stronger, more grounded. The female was spinning her sword now, tossing it from hand to hand. He weaved, kicked twice, then lunged. She avoided him at first, her sword catching one of his knives, but the other knife found purchase. A two-inch, glowing rent appeared in her abdomen. "This," she said, "has gone on long enough. I tire of this battle."



She backed away, still spinning her sword. Her crow cawed into a suddenly silent cave. Then she raised her sword and tossed it like a javelin. Eric ducked it easily, but then, he was not the target. His crow dodged, but not fast enough. The blade pierced its wing.



Eric's scream filled the cavern. The markings vanished from his face and he fell forward at the female's feet. He bled from a hundred cuts not deep enough to draw light.



"As you said, I've done this before. That was your final bow." She raised her sword above his neck.



"Well, like you said," came Buffy's voice, "this one brought a few friends." The Slayer tossed four knives, two with each hand. They hit her arms and legs and she hissed with pain. Light leaked from the wounds, but she drew herself up again. She slowly pulled each knife out, then retrieved her sword and moved to finish what she had begun. She would have done so, had Eric still lain where he fell.



Eric had moved. He now stood several feet away. He looked at the female and smiled. His face was still human and he bled red blood. His manner and voice belonged utterly to the Crow.



As he raised his arms from his sides, palms outstretched, he asked her, "Did you ever wonder why they came?"



"What? Who?"



"Short memory. The birds. The spirit guides. You invited them to come and die. I know why they came now."



"Enlighten me, then. This can only end one way, after all."



"Right about that." Eric craned his neck, slowly, as if stretching. "They came to take a wound. They knew that, sooner or later, one of them would survive it. As any Crow knows, a wounded soul has power." His voice echoed. It seemed that more spoke then than Eric, The Crow, or both. Buffy, Giles, and the crew stared at him. "If you hadn't done that, I couldn't do this."



The female stared at him in horror and began to back away. The huge black bird beat its wings frantically. Xander, who could only see Eric's back, had a second to wonder before he saw the glowing orange spiral of a portal spread throughout Eric's chest. Eric threw his head back, eyes shut tight.



"TAKE THEM!"



From Eric's body poured a murder of crows. The wings beat like thunder in the stillness of the cave. The living darkness flowed about the Valkyrie and her beast, and about all the Snakes, save the one that stood at Xander's side. The Valkyrie screamed, a high, piercing, sustained note. Then she was silent, and the crows left en masse through the cave entrance. Of the Valkyrie and her brood there was no trace, save a black feather that floated slowly to the ground.



Eric folded like a marionette with severed strings. Buffy's reflexes saved his head from hitting the cave floor. "Giles! Somebody help me with him!"



"Eric!" shouted a girl's voice. She ran from Oz's arms, still covered in the rust of old iron bars, as the werewolf wiped off a hacksaw. "Eric, you've gotta be okay! Eric, I'm sorry. I knew why she let me touch the key, but by the time I figured it out... Eric! Wake up! Wake up now, dammit! You stupid birdbrained..." Her voice was thick.



"Sarah," Oz murmured. "He'll be all right. I think he'll be okay."



"Oz," Giles cautioned, "you're sure?"



"I think so." He looked at Eric, at Buffy, then at Sarah again. "I can't smell blood anymore." He shifted his attention. "Willow, you okay?" She nodded and hugged him.



Across the cavern, the crow tested its injured wing, found it strong, and flapped it enough to get airborne. As it hopped and glided to atop the ruins of the wooden throne, Eric's eyes opened. He smiled as he looked at Sarah. "Hey."



"Hey yourself."



Then he sat up and saw a man with a snake twined about his shoulders.



In seconds the Crow was on him, the serpent's neck in one hand, the man's neck in the other. He heard but didn't credit Xander's command from behind him.



"Let him go."



"Give me one good reason."



"He saved my life."



"You know what I am," the Snake said. "If it's any consolation, my every instinct tells me to kill you too."



"Don't help," the Crow said, then rolled backwards and held himself ready. The Snake stood. The Crow's head inclined. "What's your name?"



"Roger."



"Well, then, Roger," his head jerked toward the exit. "Over and out."



Roger gathered up Pasha, turned, and ran. As he reached the cavern mouth, he suddenly backed away, hands raised. A man with a gun in his hand and a shield clipped to his belt stepped forward. "All right, now. Where's. Sarah."



"Albecht!" the girl yelled. "Daryl! 'Sokay. He's with us."



Daryl lowered the gun and Roger edged around him. The detective ran to Sarah and took the girl in his arms. "Looks like I missed the fun." Then he looked up at the Crow, whose "makeup" seemed to be fading again. "Eric." He pronounced the name carefully. "Eric," he said again, as if to summon his friend back to the fore.



The black and white lines melted into flesh. "I'm here."



"You want to tell me what happened."



"Later. What went down was really strange. I was both..."



Albrecht's eyes narrowed at the apparent non-sequitor. "What?"



"I did it. I was the Crow, but I held onto myself for Sarah." He staggered, and Daryl put Sarah down, reaching an arm up to brace him. "The walls are... really thin right now."



The detective put one arm around Eric's shoulders and reached down to put one around Sarah's. "C'mon. Let's get you both home."



"No," said Eric, disengaging himself gently. "You two get back. You'll have an easier time figuring out a story that doesn't include me."



"We'll look after him," came a cultured English voice.



"Besides, he needs to get his bike," a younger, more laconic male voice said.



Daryl Albrecht took in the crowd. "Who are you people? Other captives?"



"Actually," said Sarah, "they helped save my ass."



"I don't think I could have done this without them," Eric added.



"We're the Scooby gang," said Xander. "He's the Special Guest Star. Can we go home now?"



As they filed to the cavern's entrance, Sarah halted, turned, and looked at Willow. "Waitaminute. Somebody called you Willow. You're Willowitch!"



Willow blinked. "Skategirl?" Sarah nodded. "I can't believe it! All this time, we were saving Skategirl!"



"Who's Skategirl?" Buffy asked. The rest of the gang exchanged blank stares as they continued walking. They exited the cave, and as Sarah got in the detective's car, Willow yelled, "I'll email you!"



Sarah hollered back, "Me too!"



"I believe," Giles said, later that morning, "that I owe you an explanation."



He and Eric sat in the library, facing one another.



"You know, after all this, I wasn't even going to ask."



"You deserve to know," Giles said. "I owe you that much."



"Owe me? What do you..." Eric reached up and caught a small leather-bound volume as Giles threw it to him. It was small enough to fit in a back pocket. "Spirit Allies?"



"Turn to page 42."



Eric read aloud from a page opposite a detail of a Crow's eyes and mouth. "The Crow, a spirit in human form, should be harmless to the side of the Angels unless provoked against it. He may be a valuable ally to the Slayer, but must not be allowed to complete a human kill." He looked up. "That's it. You know more than this."



"Ah, yes. The original edition was far more complete, until I burned it."



"You what?" Then Eric was assaulted by a flash of memory from the volume he held.





"It should be you, Ripper."

"Why, Ethan? Just wondering," young Rupert Giles asked suspiciously. "I've got a delicate stomach."



Eric held on to the volume, looking up at Giles when the next vision came.





"We caught the bird. Now you drink its blood. Very simple, really. You deserve this gift. She's just tortured by it. You're doing her a favor," Ethan said. He reached for a knife.

"I can't drink blood!"



"So, you're going to be daddy's little vampire hunter after all, is that it?"



"No. I..."



A female voice spoke out behind them. "Oh where, oh where, can my little bird be? Someone's taken her far away from me."



Ethan and Ripper turned to see a woman with shoulder-length black hair, dressed in jet leather, pale as death. She sprang, kicking, knocking them both to the ground. As they lay gasping for air, she loomed. "You would be this?" She reached for them. "You would know this?" And pain, loss, sorrow and grief, beyond any Giles had ever known, filled his soul. He let go a ragged sob, and wondered how it was that Ethan was not crying too.



Eric put the book down slowly. "You paid for your actions, and you paid for your knowledge, long ago."



"Then we are even?"



"No." Eric paused, then said, "For Sarah, and for facing that thing yesterday... I think I owe you."



At that moment Buffy entered the room. Eric's crow, its wing bandaged, sat on her shoulder. "Am I interrupting?"



"No," Eric said.



At the same time Giles said "Never. Please, come and sit down."



Buffy did so, pulling up a chair and sitting on it, backwards. She glanced up at Eric. "Feeling better?"



"Almost human. This town, this whole Hellmouth thing, has me healing faster. I think I've been drawing power from this place since I got here."



"Which means," said Giles, "that the Valkyrie, for lack of a better term, was doing the same for perhaps a hundred years."



"The crows wanted to stop her. What happened in the cave..." Eric looked at Giles and Buffy in turn. "I think that's what happens when a Crow goes bad and stays that way. It's weird." He paused, then concluded, "I still don't know how I did what I did. I don't think it's something a Crow usually survives."



"So if it weren't for the Hellmouth, you'd be toast," Buffy said, "but if it weren't for the Hellmouth, none of this would have happened in the first place."



"Ironic, isn't it?" There was a trace of the Crow in Eric's smile. It faded when he stood and said, "I need to get going." He and Buffy shared a long look. "Sarah's going to need me." Buffy gave him a slight, knowing smile as the three walked to the door.



Outside, the rest of the Slayerettes waited to see him off, rubbing bleary eyes and yawning. "Yeah, the spell was from Dungeons and Dragons," Willow was saying. "Giles found the original edition from before they changed the spells so they wouldn't work." She turned. "Are you leaving? We'll miss you. Bye!" She waved.



"Goodbye," Eric said, getting on his bike.



He was about to leave when Xander shouted, "Hey!"



"What?"



"I get it! Eric Draven. Eric de Raven. Because you're a Crow."



"Um, Xander," Oz said, as Eric stared blankly at the teenager, "I think that's his real name."



Eric nodded. "Sorry. It's not even a band thing. My dad's name was Draven."



"Oh," Xander said, disappointed. "Boy, is my face red. I'll stop talking and go now." As Xander suited actions to words, Eric gunned the motor and peeled off, heading north, heading home.

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----Chance Encounter In The Morgue----

by Llarian



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Disclaimer: Forever Knight was created by James Parriott; copyright is with Sony Entertainment. The Crow: Stairway to Heaven was created by Ed Pressman and Bryce Zabel, based on the comic book series by James O'Barr. Copyright lies with Universal. I'm only playing with the characters, and I promise to put them back unharmed. This is just for fun, no money made.

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"Case file No. 361, John Doe. Subject is male, of Asian descent, mid to late twenties. Height approximately 1.75 meters, weight approximately 70 kilograms. Preliminary report from the crime scene suggests multiple gunshot wounds from point blank range as cause of death."



Dr. Natalie Lambert, M.E. to the city of Toronto, switched off her tape recorder and regarded the lifeless body on her dissection table. The body had been waiting for her when she started her shift, already undressed and covered from neck to toe with a sheet.



"What a waste," she murmured under her breath, brushing a stray lock of long black hair from the unknown young man's face. And a beautiful face it was, with large eyes with long dark lashes under straight eyebrows, high cheekbones, a sensual mouth. The features, now relaxed in death as if in sleep, were almost too delicate and fineboned for a man.



"Now why did you have to play hero, boy?" Natalie admonished. But of course, the body did not answer. Shaking her head, she turned away to retrieve her scalpel from the tray. It was such a tragic death. According to what she had heard from the officers on the scene, the boy had tried to stop a robbery, saving three innocents only to get himself killed in the process. He was indeed a hero: but at the price of his own life.



Turning back to the table, Natalie let out a yelp, for the body was no longer dead. In fact, he was sitting up, clutching the sheet in a vain attempt at modesty, staring at her with large, confused brown eyes.



"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," he stuttered.



Nat drew in a deep breath to steady herself.



"Can't you guys stop doing this to me? You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Natalie nearly yelled, and regretted her strong reaction the very same moment as she saw the young man shrink back under her verbal barrage.



"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Uh... where exactly am I? This the morgue, ma'am?"



He looked around with those large, soft brown eyes of his. Natalie felt her anger melt away; obviously, this young man was more scared and confused than she was. After all, it was not the first time she had a dead body wake up on her. She should have got used to it by now.



A small part of her mind marvelled at his self control. He should be ravenous after being shot into a bloody pulp, yet there was no hint of gold in his eyes, not a single tip of a fang in sight. But still, she took a step back, trying to keep her distance should this strange vampire suddenly decide to have her for a snack. Better to get him out of here quickly, before he changed his mind or someone showed up. Someone who was even less supposed to know about vampires.



"If you're hungry, there is something on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. I better get started on doctoring your report. We don't want too many questions asked, do we?"



Natalie turned away with a nervous laugh.



"Uhm... I'm not hungry, thank you. Look, I'm really sorry for scaring you. I got shot, right?" Draven realised he was babbling, but he couldn't help it. Eric's mind was a jumble of emotions. Here he was in what appeared to be a morgue, and the lady coroner's reaction to a dead man sitting up on the dissection table and talking to her was to offer him something to eat. Weird. He would have expected her to faint. Or at least to run, screaming.



How was he going to get out of this one? He had been killed before, not just once, but never did he have to talk his way out of the morgue. For a fleeting moment he wondered what would have happened if he had not woken up before the autopsy started; would his body have healed up in time before the funeral?



Then he remembered her words: "Can't you guys stop doing this to me?"



"You have a lot of people wake up here?" he asked and could have kicked himself the next moment. Lame, Draven, he thought.



Natalie sighed. It was going to be one of those nights.



"I guess I should be the one apologising," she said, turning back to her not entirely welcome guest. "I didn't mean to be so cold. Let's start over, shall we? Hi, I'm Dr. Natalie Lambert, M.E. Welcome to the city morgue, in some circles known as Natalie's Bed and Breakfast."



She extended her hand to him in greeting; automatically, Eric shook it. The sheet he had been clutching in front of him started to slide, revealing his finely sculpted chest and washboard stomach. Desperately he grabbed it with his left hand to prevent it from sliding any further down.



"Eric Draven. And... ah... I don't mean to be rude, but I'd really like my clothes back, ma'am," Eric replied, blushing a bright pink.



And only then Natalie noticed his distinct west coast accent.



"You're not from around here, are you?" she questioned, reaching for the evidence bag which contained Eric's personal belongings, including his clothes.



"Port Columbia, Washington," Eric mumbled, his eyes fixed on the bag. Natalie handed it to him with an apologetic smile.



"I'm afraid there isn't much left of your clothes. Maybe you'd rather try some of our spare scrubs?"



Draven shook his head. "I'm sure these will be fine," he said, pulling out a pair of black jeans which miraculously did not show any bloodstains. But then again, he did not bleed like the living. The shirt, however, was a whole different story. Not that it was stained. There was hardly anything left to be stained. His favourite shirt, turned into a tattered rag.



"There goes another one," he sighed, dropping the garment and rummaging for his boxers, first pulling out one boot, then the other before he finally found what he searched for.



"You get shot a lot?" Dr. Lambert asked him.



Eric lifted his head to meet her curious gaze. Cocking his head birdlike, he gave her a lopsided smile.



"I guess I never learned to stay out of trouble."



Her answering grin was dazzling, but vanished quickly to be replaced by a look of concern.



"Are you sure you're not hungry?"



"Quite sure, thanks. If I could only have some privacy to get dressed..." Eric let the sentence trail away unfinished.



Natalie harumphed at that. "I'm a doctor, young man. There is nothing I haven't seen before," she told him.



Eric just stared at her, his blush deepening. Finally, she relented.



"Of course. I'll just go and see if I can find a shirt for you to wear, ok?"



"Yeah, thanks."



Eric heaved a sigh of relief when the door closed behind Dr. Lambert. Quickly he hopped off the table and got dressed in his boxers, jeans and boots. He was just lacing the boots when he heard a knock at the door.



"Are you decent, Mr. Draven?"



He nearly laughed out loud; damn, but the lady doctor had style!



Still grinning, he opened the door and took the teeshirt she held out to him, pulling it over his head in one fluid motion.



"Thank you, doctor. I feel a lot less at a disadvantage now."



Natalie nodded. Draven did seem more relaxed now that he was properly dressed. For a moment she wondered if that was another vampire thing - an unusual high sense of modesty. Or maybe he had simply grown up in a time period and culture that required men and women to cover up their bodies more than was usual for the late twentieth century. She decided to ask.



"So, how long since you... ah..."



"Died?" He provided the word before she could fumble for a politer phrase. Draven shrugged. "It'll be two years next Halloween," he replied.



Natalie felt her jaw drop. "Two years," she breathed. That man was hardly more than a fledgling!



"Yeah, I've been back since last Halloween," Draven continued. "Don't remember where I was in the time between. Maybe in my grave. At least it was empty when the police opened it."



Belatedly he noticed that Natalie was staring at him in horror. He shook his head. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean..."



He was not prepared for the look of pure rage that crossed the doctor's features.



"Are you telling me you were buried? The one who made you allowed you to be buried?" Natalie fairly screamed at him.



Draven took an involuntary step back.



"Well, I... I was dead," he stuttered. Now what was that about? Of course his murderers allowed him to be buried; that was the plan, after all. Kill Eric Draven.



Natalie pinched the bridge of her nose in order to control her fury and took deep, calming breaths.



"Undead, you mean," she muttered. "God, this is awful. How could they?"



She took his hands, and all Eric could do was pull back before he saw her thoughts, her memories. He did not care to take part in her emotions right now.



"Look, I don't know how they do things in Port Columbia, but Toronto is different. You'll like it here. A lot of your kind live here."



"A lot of my kind?" Eric echoed. "I only met one other like me before... how many are we talking?"



"Well, I don't know exactly. A couple hundred, maybe. Toronto does have a rather large community."



Oh my god, Eric thought, what happened here to make so many return as Crows? He must have visible paled, because Natalie took his arm to steady him.



"Here, you better sit down. You're pale even for one of your kind."



She pushed him into the office chair behind her desk.



"And you really should feed. When was the last time you had a decent meal?"



Eric blinked.



"Uh... before I died?" he offered.



"No, I mean when did you last feed? You look like hell, you know. And getting shot to shreds must have cost you a lot of strength. It's a miracle you haven't gone for my throat yet. Not that I don't admire your control, especially for one so young, but that cannot be healthy."



She strode over to the refrigerator, taking something out of it and holding it out to Draven. It was a bag of blood.



"Here, this should tide you over. Drink up."



Eric stared at the bag, unbelieving. He felt nauseated at the very thought of drinking this, and it must have shown on his face.



"My, you're positively green! Don't like human? Sorry, I don't keep cow or rat here. All I can offer you is this or a protein shake."



Cow blood... rat blood... Eric felt like losing his last dinner.



"I think I better leave now," he managed. Maybe he got out of here before this nutcase decided to threaten him with a wooden stake. He briefly wondered if he might catch her brand of insanity if he were to sense her thoughts. Better not take the risk.



Slightly stumbling, he got to his feet, feeling his way to the door.



"It's... ah... been nice meeting you, Dr. Lambert. Really. Nice."



He was not prepared for her reaction. Dr. Lambert smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand.



"Of course, how stupid of me! The code... look, I may be mortal, which you no doubt noticed, but I've been the doctor to the undead here in Toronto for years. There is really no need for you to keep up the facade with me."



"Sure, doc. Whatever you say."



Eric managed a weak smile, edging his way around the table. He had faced murderers, a snake spirit, countless weapons trained on him without so much as a twinge of fear, but this little woman and her delusions gave him the willies. Big time. How could they ever let her on a job like this? Then again, she probably liked cutting up dead bodies. Liked it enough to be really good at it.



"I... I really have to get going. See you another time." I hope not, he finished silently while fumbling for the door knob behind his back.



"Right, if you insist. At least let me give you an address... it's a club, called the Raven, on Duncan and Richmond Streets. You get what you need there, just ask for the house special."



Eric plastered a hopefully grateful smile on his face. "Yeah... thanks doc... be seeing you."



Slipping out of the door, he fled the building as fast as he could.



Outside, he paused and breathed deeply. The night air was cool and calming.



"Oh man," he sighed. "Vampires! I don't get it! How can a coroner believe in vampires?"



Finally back at the hotel, Eric mentally prepared himself for the tonguelashing he would receive from his closest friend and confidante before knocking on the door. However, he had not even lifted his hand before the door flew open and he was dragged inside by a furious Daryl Albrecht.



"Draven! Where the hell have you been?"



Albrecht did not wait for an answer, he continued to rant.



"I win a trip to Toronto for two, could ask anybody to accompany me, and who do I pick? You! And you do the disappearing act on me again!"



Eric opened his mouth to speak, but Albrecht wasn't finished yet.



"You know, I could have made up with Cordy here. Or I could have asked Capshaw. Or even Vincennes. But no, I pick you. And you just run out and disappear for hours. So, where the hell have you been?"



"The morgue."



"The what? What for the love of god where you doing there?"



Draven leaned back against the door and sighed.



"I saw a robbery, intervened, got shot, woke up in the morgue," he drawled. "That's the short version. Anyway, the coroner's nice, but whacky. Completely nuts. Thought I was a vampire."



"A vampire?"



"Yeah. Even offered me a bag of donated O negative as a snack. Weird, huh?"



Albrecht swallowed hard.



"Vampires. What next?" he muttered under his breath. "Zombies from outer space?"



He opened the door, grabbing Draven's arm.



"Come on, I need a drink now. And I'm not going to let you out of my sight again."



"Where are we going?"



"A club. You'll like it there. Your kind of music. It's called the Raven."



Draven stopped dead in his tracks.



"The Raven?"



"Yeah. And I swear, there will definitely be no vampires there."

***************************************