Chapter Text
Buffy sipped her orange juice and looked at the folder resting on her tray. She’d read through it dozens of times of course, so many that she knew whole chunks of it off by heart. But she opened it again anyway, keen to remind herself of the most important aspects of her task. As she flipped through the pages she thought back to the meeting a few days ago when her trip was green-lit.
“So, in conclusion, this location presents the best opportunity to realise the client’s requirements at an extremely attractive price point. Maplewood Pass provides excellent potential for development and, given the recent history of the area, the likelihood of local support for the project. The projections give a flavour of the returns that might be expected after two, five and ten years.”
And with that she’d taken her seat and looked down at the boardroom table, hoping to keep the confidence she felt off her face. Don’t want to blow this by seeming even the slightest bit obnoxious.
A handful of questions from the besuited guys around the table were easily answered and ten minutes later Buffy had her approval. She’d left the meeting room with a spring in her step and a surprisingly tight deadline – the client wanted to close the deal by the holidays.
This might be more difficult to achieve than Buffy’s pitch had suggested. What had been missing from her presentation was any mention of the opaque ownership of the land that the client would need to acquire to make the company’s ambitions of a luxury resort and conference centre a reality. However there was only so far that desktop research could take you – or at least that’s what Buffy told herself. Sometimes you just need to get there in person and find out what’s happening on the ground. In any event, Buffy was pleased to have the chance to take a trip to Maplewood Pass. She’d been inexplicably fascinated by the place ever since she became aware of it – studying the history of the area, trawling the Internet for any mention of it, even running her fingers over the map and tracing the letters in its name.
This was highly unusual behaviour for Buffy, who’d prided herself in her cool, logical, dispassionate approach to acquisitions ever since she’d joined Blackheath Capital straight out of college. The last few years had been tough but enjoyable she insisted to herself, despite the often difficult relationship she had with her boss and the endless snark from the PA she shared with said boss. If – no, when – I pull off this deal I’ll really be going places. Who knows, I might even leap frog Cordelia Chase right into the C-Suite. And you know what? You can have Harmony freaking Kendall all to yourself.
The pilot announced the descent into Burlington and shortly afterwards the fasten seatbelts light was switched on. It was a bumpy end to the flight and Buffy was pleased to be safely off the plane and into the baggage hall. As she waited by the carousel she thought how small the place appeared, even compared to La Guardia where she’d set off from. Well, Vermont does have the smallest population of any state in the Union. See – that research has paid off. The people of Maplewood Pass will recognise my interest – no, my *passion* for the area and I’ll have that deal signed, sealed and delivered in plenty of time for the holidays!
Amongst the small group gathered in the arrivals hall was a young man around Buffy’s age holding a cardboard sign with her name on it. He gave a huge smile as she walked up to him.
“Hey! Mrs Finn?”
“It’s Ms. Hi.”
“Ms! Of course, my mistake.” The man clutched his chest and pulled an apologetic face. “You’d think with all the feminists in my town I wouldn’t make mistakes like that! Please try not to hold it against me, Ms Finn. I’m Xander Harris, and I’m your ride!”
“That’s great, thanks, Mr Harris.” Buffy smiled as her driver took her wheeled suitcase and they began following the signs to the parking lot.
“Please! Call me Xander. Everyone else does!”
“Oh, right. Yes, okay, you can call me Anne.”
They soon reached the car. It was an ageing sedan, but the gleaming chrome accessories told Buffy this was her driver’s pride and joy. She noticed the snow chains and was about to ask whether they were expecting bad weather, but a groan from Xander made her turn round to see him struggling to lift her case into the trunk.
“Oh, let me help you with that.” Buffy was embarrassed – it was easy to forget how her strength compared with ordinary mortals.
Xander looked horrified at the prospect of allowing a tiny blonde girl like Buffy to help him with manly tasks like loading the car, so with a loud grunt he eventually managed to propel the case into the trunk. He wiped his brow theatrically. “Wowsers, what you got in there?”
“Clothes, mainly. I – er - wasn’t sure what to bring. How cold it was going to be. It’s my first time in this part of the world.”
“Really? Well, I promise you you’re gonna love it! Sure, we’ve had snow the last couple of weeks, but everyone loves snow for Christmas, right?”
Buffy made positive sounding noises as they drove out of the terminal and settled herself down for what she’d been told would be about an hour and a half journey. It wasn’t long before they were firmly into rural Vermont and even in the darkness the thick snow blanketing the fields was clear to see. Buffy had to admit to herself that it had a special beauty of its own. Snow was, of course, a regular winter occurrence in New York, but this seemed very different. She gazed dreamily out of the window as they drove along, her mind drifting to previous Christmases, when suddenly her thoughts were interrupted by Xander speaking.
“Hey, Ms Finn - I mean Anne, hope you don’t mind me asking what brings you to our little town this close to the holidays? We don’t get many visitors this time of year! Fall’s the time folk tend to come, for obvious reasons! Actually, we don’t get many visitors then either. But more of them. Definitely more of them! Thinking about it, there’s no real reason why they shouldn’t come for Christmas. Town looks pretty good then too! Guess people usually have other plans for Christmas, but I don’t see any reason Maplewood Pass shouldn’t feature in those plans…”
Buffy’s initial irritation at the mindless chatter – does this guy EVER shut up? – was tempered by interest in the implication that he actually lived in the town and might be a useful source of information. She smiled her best California cheerleader smile, shifting slightly in her seat as she did so in order to be certain he could see it in the rearview mirror.
“I guess you could say I’m on a business trip. My firm – well, the people we’re working for - they’re looking to make a big investment in your town. So I’m here just to check it out, figure out a few things, you know.” Buffy tucked some blonde hair behind her left ear, a practised move that she knew was both adorable and irresistible to anyone who saw it.
But Xander just seemed puzzled. “What kinda investment? It’s really small place. I’d say a one Starbucks town, but we don’t even have one of them.”
“Sure, we know it’s a small town, and we also know that there’s been some… problems in recent years. We’re hoping this investment can help Maplewood Pass get through those problems and -”
“Problems?” Xander frowned. “What do you mean, problems?”
“Oh, look, I don’t mean to sound rude! Just that I know it’s been difficult since the maple syrup plant closed, and there’s been some issues with crime and things like that.” I seem to have hit a raw nerve, but seriously? Town of that size with gangs on PCP roaming around stabbing people in the throat? Story like that would make the front pages in New York or LA!
At this, Xander relaxed visibly. “Oh yeah, that’s all under control now. And the syrup plant’s reopened now.”
“It has?” Buffy tried to keep the anxiety out of her voice. Her research hadn’t found any mention of the plant reopening. She wondered what else she’d missed, but reminded herself that it was details like this that highlighted the limitations of desktop assessments and made it so important to visit the site.
“Not strictly official yet, but yeah it’s all happening. Well, you can see for yourself shortly!”
The rest of the journey passed quietly, with no further conversation and only the radio playing an interminable selection of Christmas songs. Buffy did her best to tune it out – she’d never found the holidays to be the most wonderful time of the year, and since her mother died she’d found it impossible to feel remotely festive. Joyce had always loved decorating the tree, hanging garlands and making nog. Then the traditional viewing of It’s a Wonderful Life on Christmas Eve… guess at least I never have to watch that borefest ever again. Always important to find the positive in every sitch.
Around fifteen minutes after leaving the main highway, they passed a large “Welcome to Maplewood Pass” sign. The sign featured moose and fox and bear and all sorts of other critters and was clearly intended to give a cutesy vibe, but on driving past the first thing to loom into view was a large graveyard.
“Not the cheeriest first glimpse of the town? And it looks really big.”
“Oh, the cemetery, yeah. You’ve gotta remember it’s the only one in town, and it’s been here since the very beginning. Plus this town’s had a few periods of quite high death rates, and the population used to be higher and…”
Buffy had already tuned out Xander’s explanation. She was certain she’d seen a figure between two large gravestones. Her eyesight was as sharp as ever and had picked out someone moving in a very familiar way. Whoever that was – they were hunting.
“…but anyway wait until you see the lights this year! They’re even better than normal.”
They reached the centre of Maplewood a few minutes later and the festive display was enough to charm even someone as cynical as Buffy. Colourful lights were strung across Main Street and every business seemed to have joined in the fun, their windows crammed with bright and cheerful seasonal decorations and messages. In pride of place was a large Christmas tree, also beautifully decorated and with a grotto to the side where Santa presumably met with the town’s younger residents earlier in the day. Buffy sensed Xander wanted her to say something, so she oohed and ahed for a moment before asking whether the town went to such efforts every year.
“We try to, sure, but this is the best yet. Everyone loves it and everyone gets involved!” Xander signalled and pulled over. “And we’re here!”
Buffy saw the sign for the Maple Inn and got out of the car to look at a large wooden building in Alpine style. It’s like, hello small mountain town cliché! “It’s, yeah. Really distinctive.”
“Ah, it’s a great place. You’re gonna love it here! Larry and Andrew have got it so nice.”
Seeing Xander open the trunk and reluctant to see him injure himself, Buffy scooted around and effortlessly pulled out her case. “Great! Thanks for getting me here so quickly!”
“Wait. How did you do that? Lift it so easy?”
“Oh, it’s – a technique. And I… work out.” Buffy looked down at her feet, unsuccessfully willing the awkwardness away.
“Yeah? Well, maybe I should look into that. Ahn’s always on at me to hit the gym! Anyway, I’m booked to take you back to the airport in three days, but I guess I’ll probably see you around town before that. It’s not a big place, as you can see!”
Buffy smiled and waved as Xander drove off, then walked into the Maple Inn. The lobby was small, with a few sofas and armchairs scattered about. The walls boasted seemingly endless prints of fall scenes. It was a far cry from the high end chains Buffy was used to, and she momentarily cursed Harmony for booking her into this place before remembering that the nearest Sheraton was probably an hour’s drive away. Shaking her head, she walked up to the desk where she was greeted by a charming man about her age.
“Greetings, Ms Finn, and welcome to the Maple Inn. We have you booked for three nights?”
“That’s right. I think my PA said there was the opportunity to extend if necessary?”
“Of course, of course. To be truthful, you are our only guest. You see, with the holidays coming up and…”
“Right, yeah, great.” Buffy reached for her room key, but found to her annoyance that the talkative man wasn’t ready to hand it over. It was obvious that she wasn’t really listening, but this didn’t deter him.
“My sous chef has gone to Canada to stay with family, so I’m on my own. I can certainly make you a fine dinner, but it may not be of the standard to which I strive -”
“It’s fine, I ate on the plane.” This was a lie, but Buffy was desperate to get away from this pleasant but intense young man and chill out in her room, which would no doubt be “rustic” and packed with New England kitsch.
“Then that leaves only the question of breakfast. Again, the full panoply of morning foods may not be available…”
“Hey, take it down a notch Andy. Lady’s probably tired from her journey, doesn’t wanna hear all your kitchen stories.” Another man had appeared behind the desk. This man was built like a football player and was wearing a sweater made of the chunkiest knit Buffy had ever seen. He had kind eyes and was smiling. “Hi, I’m Larry. Andrew and me run this joint! Hope you enjoy your stay. Oh,” he winked mischievously, “If you do feel like something more substantial tomorrow morning, the Woodchuck Diner down the street does some great chow.”
Buffy nodded her thanks as Larry slid the key across the desk. She politely refused the offer of help with her case and walked to the elevator. Behind her the proprietors were continuing to bicker about the inn’s culinary offerings. As the elevator door closed, she looked up and took a deep breath. There was something about the town that was triggering… something. Something strange, unfamiliar and… oh, who am I trying to kid. There’s nothing remotely unfamiliar about that sense of the undead around and this place has it in spades. And looks like there’s someone else who knows it. Someone who likes stalking in graveyards…
The room was every bit as clichéd and kitschy as Buffy had feared. The bed however was huge and comfortable and after a few minutes attempting to work she shut the laptop down and snuggled under the thick comforter. The fall tones were pretty soothing after all, she told herself, and starting the project properly after she’d had a good night’s sleep sounded sensible.
Sleep, however, was a long time coming. Whenever she closed her eyes she could see the shadowy figure, the figure that she’d only glimpsed. Who are they? And what’s the deal with this place? Her mind ran over and over these questions and then, when no answers were forthcoming, it moved to another topic. The part of Buffy’s life that she spent most of the time pretending didn’t exist. Just like her real name.
The part of Buffy that felt the need to hunt. To slay. To rain down destruction on the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. Sometimes that feral, primal part of her took over and she’d leave her fancy Manhattan apartment block dressed to slay. Tight jeans or even – when she was feeling particularly wild – leathers. A dark top. A torn old beanie on top of her usually perfectly coiffed hair. Then she’d hit a rough part of the city and find a cemetery or, more often, an alley where vampires would prey on drunks or hookers or homeless people – the detritus of the Big Apple, people who no one cared about enough to miss.
On nights like those, Buffy was those people’s avenging angel. She’d leap from the dark and punch, kick and finally stake the uncomprehending vamp. Sometimes she’d come up with a witty pun as she did so, but mostly it was about the violence. And then… when the undead threat was taken care of, Buffy would do one of two things…
…She’d find a late night pizza joint, take a booth and order the biggest pizza on the menu, complete with a bunch of sides and a pitcher of beer. She’d ignore the staff, who’d be staring and whispering in disbelief as they watched the petite blonde eat and drink enough for a half dozen construction workers.
…Or she’d hit a dive bar or club. Neck a few shots, hit the dance floor, then pick one of the two dozen guys drooling over her. They’d dance a little, make out a little more and then go back to his place. If said place was too far away, or she just couldn’t stand awkward conversation in the taxi, well… then they’d just screw in an alley or even a dark corner of the club.
Buffy never remembered the names of her partners. There were times she’d never known them in the first place. It was a part of her she was deeply ashamed of and also which she felt unable to keep in check. If Cordelia Chase had any idea about my secret life…