Title: Dimension Hopping for the Modern Minion
Author: Xander03
Rating: R (language)
Summary: "Please take your seats. Faith and I will be discussing the possible end of the world for a few moments, don't mind us."
Author's Notes: Spoilers through the ends of Season 4 Angel and Season 7 Buffy. Thanks to K, verucawerewolf, spifarific, and h0taru. And R for some "beta-testing." I have a big welcoming party in my inbox for feedback and constructive criticism, swing by and enjoy the cake (of various flavors, and with ice cream!).
***
***
"Now that you have all had your exciting welcome from the staff here," Xander said, nodding back at Robin, Faith, and Wesley, "we'll move on to the official tour. Those of you who helped me build the things on the tour may skip ahead and wait for us at our next stop." The new auditorium was small for a school, but the Guardians knew there would never be more than fifty or sixty girls here at a time.
"Which is where, exactly?" Kennedy asked. The entire front row consisted of Slayers that had either been at Sunnydale or were found shortly thereafter, and had already spent two weeks in the Hyperion Hotel. This was the first time Kennedy had shown interest in any of the day's activities.
"An excellent question," Xander said. "And I defer to our fearless leader, Robin." Robin Wood was the Academy's official head administrator, because he was already certified for such a position in California. Wolfram and Hart had found ways to get the others certified as teachers. "The rest of you, follow me on what is bound to be the most exciting tour of any hotel turned Slayer Academy ever."
The rest of the students, numbering in the mid thirties, stood and followed Xander down the center aisle and out the door of the new conference room. They ranged in age from twelve to twenty, and almost half did not speak English; although that portion did a good job reading context clues and attempting to understand the flashcards Xander had drawn.
Xander looked at the girls, trying to hide his astonishment at their ages. He'd known they'd be this young. He'd seen them before in the room. He'd dealt with Potentials this age in Sunnydale. But every time he saw them, he thought of it again; of how young and innocent they all were, and of how many of them would die far too early. Like Anya.
"And I did mean that I constructed most of these rooms," Xander said, leading the girls into the main lobby. No need to share his momentary depression with the girls. "The Hyperion was a nice building in it's time, but let's just say it wouldn't have met the current building codes before I got a hold of it."
Gunn walked through the main doors as the group milled in the lobby. "Xander! Sorry I'm late. Hope I didn't miss anything. I had to clear out a demon infesting my neighbor's apartment." He went to the weapons cabinet, still displayed prominently in the lobby, to stow his broad sword.
"Just the usual, 'We're so happy you're here to fight for right,' speech. Ladies, this is Charles Gunn."
"Just call me Gunn." Gunn glared at Xander, spinning the sword in his hand. "Man, I thought we agreed you wouldn't share my first name, and I wouldn't tell them yours." Gunn noticed the wide eyes on the blade, and realized the girls might not know he was joking. He put it away.
"Sorry," Xander said.
"No problem, Alexander."
There were snickers from some of the girls. "Yes, anyway," Xander continued, "This is Gunn. You may call him any name you like, though, and I'll make sure he doesn't give you any problems. He's with Angel Investigations, like Wesley."
"Are you a Guardian too?" one of the older girls asked. Xander remembered her name was Elizabeth. He'd been trying to learn all of their names as they came in, but it'd been impossible.
"Nah, that's not my thing," Gunn said. "Y'all have my full support, but I'm more into hitting things in the field than doing the research."
"Do you have any superpowers?" another asked. Xander recognized her as Sarah.
Gunn laughed. "Just my manly arms."
"Gunn is one of us crazy people that have no extraordinary strength, magical powers, or ability to heal quickly but still manage to end up in the center of fights. As evidenced by my pirate appearance." Xander pointed at his eye patch. Fred said the techs over at Wolfram and Hart could get him a new eye, but the Guardians weren't sure if they trusted the once evil law firm yet. He might end up with demons spying on his actions from his own head. "I see none of you are laughing at my little joke. That's fine. But beware, many women swoon when they see me in action."
"They're just hiding laughter," Gunn said.
"Don't you have something to do, Mr. Private Investigator?"
"On my way," Gunn answered, exiting the lobby into an office.
"That would be the Angel Investigations office," Xander said. "New and improved, thanks to yours truly."
One of the girls raised her hand. "Yes?"
"Mr. Xander..." Xander didn't know her name.
"Just Xander. 'Mr.' makes me sound old." Xander scanned the faces at the response. "Okay, you think I'm old now. You'll understand some day… Moving on, yes?"
"I thought Angel was the name of the guy over at the law firm that's helping us. Why is the office named after him?"
"Yes. That's the big brooding vampire with a soul. He used to run Angel Investigations, but he's moved on to uh, other pursuits. While we're on that subject, I'd be much happier if none of you fell in love with any vampires. Or demons, for that matter. It'll make my life easier."
The group of Slayers remained silent, looking around the lobby, avoiding eye contact with Xander. He shrugged it off and continued with the tour.
Xander had done a lot of repairs, additions, and general maintenance. The building was better lit and more open than it had been before. Xander started pointing at various hallways and doors. "Over there is where you'll be eating. Up those stairs is to the rooms. Down that hall is to the workout areas. And of course, what you've been waiting for, classrooms!"
"Mr. Wood said we'd be studying traditional schoolwork and Slayer related stuff," a girl in the back said. "What does that mean, exactly?"
"Well, you'll continue learning math and science and writing," Xander said, evoking a groan from his audience. "Those of you who don't speak English, and therefore have no idea what I'm saying, will learn that language so we'll have a way to communicate. Everyone else will take at least one foreign language; you'll all learn some Latin and Greek. The Slayer specific courses will deal with demons and Slayer history. Older students will go on supervised patrols some nights, and once deemed qualified, will be able to go out alone."
Faith appeared at the edge of the lobby, listening as Xander finished explaining the classes. He took the group into the cafeteria, and she turned to face Robin. "So far, so good," she said. Giles and Wesley had spent a lot of time convincing her that she was needed, and it had been another huge step to agree to stay in the same place as Robin.
"Yeah," he said, putting his arm around her shoulder. "I told you this was a good idea."
"I'm not convinced. Sure, for you, it's great. But me a school teacher? Seems a little crazy." In addition to staying in a somewhat stable relationship, Faith was also now expected to set a good example and make command decisions. She wasn't quite comfortable with that following Sunnydale, but Robin had insisted she'd be able to handle it.
"Perhaps," he said. "But I think you'll be good at it." He winked before turning to face an approaching Wesley.
"So," Wesley said. "Faith, tell us more about that dream you had last night." He continued walking, leading Robin and Faith across the lobby into the AI office. His desk was in the corner, and the rest of the room was filled with chairs. Xander had installed new phone lines and Internet connections, new lights and electrical wiring, and the state-of-the art presentation system the Council had paid for. "Gunn, Faith had a Slayer dream last night."
"Was I in it?" He sat down in the recliner he'd moved into the office, claiming it was "his" seat. After Xander pointed out it didn't have his name on it, he added it so there would be no further confusion.
"No," Faith said. "I didn't see any humans." Faith and Robin both sat on the couch.
"Damn, here I thought I might at least be getting some action somewhere."
"Hey now," Robin said, grinning at the other man. "If she's dreaming about somebody, it ought to be me."
"If we could focus?" Wesley sat behind his desk and pulled out a pad of paper.
"Right. Focusing," Faith said. "So I was in this cave."
"What kind of cave?" Wesley asked, starting to take notes.
"I don't know. A cave type of cave. It was about the size of your basic hallway and all rocky. There were demons going one way, passing me by like they couldn't see me. They were wearing pants and swords, and not much else." She winked at Gunn. "Somebody could have gotten lucky."
"Hey now," Robin joked.
Wesley asked, "Anything else unique about them?"
"Other than being demons? Yeah. They had ridges on their backs and necks."
"Horizontal or vertical ridges?"
"This way," Faith said, moving her hands in front of her to indicate a horizontal orientation of the ridges. "After a few passed, I followed them. The cave went on for a while and I walked maybe ten minutes. Or what felt like ten minutes. Then it opened up into a larger room. I mean, it was huge. Stadium size. Demons were pouring out of caves all around the room, but the ones on the other side were different. I don't know if they had any ridges or not or even what they looked like, because they were all wearing robes with hoods."
"Were they armed?" Robin asked.
She smiled. "They had staffs. I think they were weapons of some sort, probably magical, by the way the demons on my side looked at them. It really didn't look like these two groups partied together very often. At first I thought they'd start fighting, the tension was so intense."
"How many do you think there were?" Wesley asked.
"I don't know," Faith shrugged. "Thousands? There were a lot. Just like I said, think about filling up a stadium. It was loud, too. They were all talking at the same time, up until a gap opened up near the center. Then they all got quiet, and two members of each group went to the center. They were talking, sounded angry."
Wesley asked, "Can you tell us what the language sounded like?"
"I don't know. Demonic? It wasn't good, whatever it was. Then they must have come to some sort of stopping point, and the demons between me and them made a path. Next thing I knew, they all could see me, but it didn't seem scary, you know? No big Slayer radar going off to tell me to run."
"Go on," Wesley said.
"So the guys in the center walk down the little aisle and are standing right in front of me. Then they started talking again, only this time at me. I don't have a clue what they were saying, but it was less angry. One of the robed guys pulls four metal strips out and hands them to me, and smiles. Then I woke up." Faith pulled out four metal strips from her cargo pocket. "And I had these."
Wesley took them and examined them in his hand, making the occasional note on his paper. Robin sat calmly, seemingly unaffected by the appearance of magical objects in his girlfriend's bedroom.
Gunn said, "And you're just now getting around to telling Wes?"
"Hey," she said. "I told him about it before the little Slayer welcome, but we couldn't exactly discuss it. I could just see that one going over well. 'Please take your seats. Faith and I will be discussing the possible end of the world for a few moments, don't mind us.' No panic there."
"Well, hopefully an end of the world scenario would have been a little tenser," Wesley said. "I doubt they would have given you a parting gift."
"They obviously want you to do something with them," Robin said. "Maybe if we figure out what type of demons were in your dream, we can determine what exactly they want of you."
Wesley nodded. "Let's start researching immediately."
***
"The Ritual of the Mrifnoc is not to be taken lightly, human. Are you sure you wish to join with me and become a true Renrael of the Natit?"
"Yes, Master."
"On your knees, then."
The demon Natit lord, Nukpana, pulled a thin metal symbol from the bag at his side. "Soon, you will be a Renrael of Nukpana, my friend. And together, we will conquer both your Powers and my Keepers. The Licnuoc will fall, and the barriers around Tnacsuroc will sunder."
He placed the metal piece on the human's chest, and spoke loudly in a language the human had never heard. The metal heated and then affixed itself to his skin. Nukpana released it and watched as the mystical object seared into the flesh and bonded with the cells, sending the human to the ground in pain screaming.
Natit and Nacluv children suffered great suffering in their quest to become warriors, but the adult from another species was facing great pain and torment beyond what was meant by the Licnuoc. It was a test. Eventually, the human rose to his knees, head bowed, with the symbol of Nukpana etched on his white chest. He was still shaking violently from the pain, and his lip bled freely from where he'd bit down on it to attempt to stop screaming.
"I am your Rehcaet, forever will you serve me."
"Yes, Master."
"Ethan, I think you'll find your time here to be very educational." Nukpana looked at the human, aware nothing he said would register through the pain. "And when we return to your world, we'll find the ones that imprisoned you and make them suffer."
***
"Your coat goes on the coat rack, Andrew. Not on the chair," Giles told the younger man. He was sitting in his new desk chair, attempting to adjust it to suit his height and reach. An as of yet unassembled filing cabinet rested on the floor to his side, and his desk was cluttered with paperwork, books, and other items he'd gathered in the last few days. "I don't know why you insist on having a coat, anyway. It isn't even cold outside yet."
"I look more professional with a trench coat," Andrew said. "Dawn said so." Lately, if Dawn had thought it to be a good idea, Andrew readily agreed. She seemed oblivious to his attention, though.
"Dawn was comparing it to what you had been wearing before, which was a Star Trek t-shirt, if I'm not mistaken." Giles pressed a lever under the chair, and suddenly found himself sinking to near ground level. He'd had quite a good time selecting his new office furniture, but it was turning out to be too high-tech for him to manage. Instead of a comfortable space where they could all meet and discuss Council items, the office had turned into a den of malfunctioning equipment. Dawn had suggested it was possessed. "Well, that's not going to work."
"Do you want some help, Giles?" Andrew asked, moving his coat from the back of a chair to the coat rack.
"No, no, I'm fine." Another lever sent the chair back up to its previous height, and Giles decided to stop for the moment. "Dawn completed our letterhead, and I'm pleased with it. What do you think?"
Andrew walked over to Giles' desk and took a piece of paper off one of the stacks. The letterhead had the Council's new address just outside of London on the left. Currently, it was just a warehouse. Eventually, the headquarters would be rebuilt there. "Council of Guardians" was centered across the top in plain lettering. The text and the rest of the letter were separated with a slim red line, to symbolize the blood of those who made the current Council possible. Of course, only Council members and Slayers would know that, since as far as the public was concerned, the Council of Guardians was a consumer watchdog group for bread products.
The new Council Seal was on the right. A female lion, mid-hunt and on the prowl, was in the center. The lion was running, and under her legs was the image of a book. It was a representation of the Pergamum Codex. A circle of stakes surrounded the book and animal, with the words "Animis Opibusque Parati" around the edge, Latin for "Prepared in minds and resources."
"I think it turned out well," Andrew said, admiring the work. The original idea to change the name from Watchers to Guardians had been his, and he'd been a major contributor to the current seal and motto.
"Yes," Giles agreed. "The transfer from rough sketch to digital on the computer has been remarkable. It looks very professional."
"Yep," Andrew said, turning to go. Talking to Giles was fun sometimes, but timing was crucial to avoid being assigned busy work. The time in the conversation had come when Andrew needed to leave or face filing duties.
"Andrew," Giles said. Andrew had waited too long. "That desk over there has the materials we collected from what we believe to be the E room of the old headquarters. Could you take it out to the warehouse proper and start a new table?"
"E room? Further proof you all needed to come up with more creative room names. Anybody can name rooms after the alphabet, but it takes true genius to think of more inspired designations. "
"And what would you have the renewed Council call the rooms?" Giles asked, as he reached under the desk to retrieve the chair's instructions.
"I don't know. Maybe name them after Slayers. There could be the Buffy Room and the Faith Room and the Kennedy Room."
"While that sounds interesting," Giles said, giving up on grasping the paper under his desk, "I'm sure then we'd have to debate on what went in each room, so as not to offend the person it was named after. I am confident that simple room numbers will suffice when we move to the new facility."
"Okay," Andrew said. "But don't blame me when morale goes down." He went to the other desk and collected the papers, carefully avoiding making eye contact with Giles, who was sure to be glaring. "I'll get these done. Anything for Dawn?"
"No," Giles said before once again fiddling with his new chair and ending up in an odd position, this time leaning back at nearly a ninety-degree angle.
Andrew stifled a laugh and left the main office, entering the huge warehouse Giles had acquired to sort and organize the documents and items located in the remains of the old headquarters. It had taken some time to convince the government to allow the Council access to the blast site, as it was considered very dangerous still. But with enough of the Council's funds, Giles was able to get a permit for a team he'd hired to sift through the debris.
The large space in the warehouse was filled with tables; lined up, labeled, and well organized. Andrew started a new table for Room E by affixing a note card to each edge and updating the main inventory log. Once that was done, he walked to the corner to the bank of high speed computers to add the table and its contents to the main inventory database. Giles had authorized an obscene amount of money for Andrew to use in selecting, purchasing, and assembling the computers the Council now used. Their system put MI-5's to shame, Andrew had learned after hacking in to obtain information.
"Anything new and exciting?" Andrew asked Dawn.
"I'm still looking up information on library collections of old and arcane information. Only you would find that to be exciting."
"So?"
"No. Nothing new or interesting. Although the past few minutes I've been setting up travel arrangements for Buffy and Willow to come back. The travel agent site I've been using just crashed and ate all my information." Dawn sighed. "They're looking forward to a break."
"How are they doing?"
"Same old, same old," Dawn said. "Parents not wanting to send their daughters off, even if it is to Dr. Xavier's School for Gifted Children."
"That brochure was cool, even if we couldn't use it." One of the several ideas developed for recruitment purposes was to advertise the school as an academy for gifted children, much like in X-Men. The Academy was going to be officially designated a school in California for legal purposes, so it made sense to sell it as such. Giles thought it seemed tacky and risky, and the first argument among the new Council of Guardians had erupted. In the end, Giles won.
"We should probably tell them the truth," said Dawn. "We can't just kidnap them or kill the parents like the old Council did when there was a problem."
"Sure we could."
"Andrew!"
"What? I'm just joking. Of course we should tell the truth. That gives me something to cover up as head of the public relations department. I can see it now." Andrew looked up at the sky and framed an imaginary television screen with his fingers. "Next on Inside Edition! Brochure for school shows swimming pools and field trips. Young girls really get violent education on the best way to kill monsters!"
"Telling the parents won't be that big of a problem."
"Sure. Then whom do they tell? It's all a big cover-up. Just admit it."
"It isn't exactly covering anything up. We're just making sure a worldwide panic doesn't ensue. People can't know that girls all over suddenly became superheroes. They'd panic. And then they'd find out why we needed superheroes and all sorts of bad things would happen."
"And that's not covering it up?"
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I guess. But it doesn't seem as bad when you phrase it my way."
Andrew entered the new information into the database, stealing a look at Dawn every few minutes. "I do look more professional with the coat, right?"
***
"You are charged with the criminal act of neglect of humanity. The Council of Watchers deems you guilty, and sentences you to death." The man speaking swept his eyes across the assembled force before him. Several girls, a few women and men, and over one-hundred guards watched impassively, while the thirteen year old girl behind him struggled against the shackles and screamed through her gag.
A hooded mage appeared from nearby, chanting and walking toward the guilty. When he was in front of her, he stopped, and put a hand on her forehead. Her muted screams increased, and she violently thrashed about, trying to get free. After a few seconds, she fell still. The mage turned to the man in charge and said, "She is dead."
The leader faced his troops, saying, "Remove the body," and walked away. Another man joined him as he moved down a hall.
"She is in position, Roger," the man said.
"Good. There is to be no more contact until it is time for the third phase."
***
"As each individual client uses the product software, a part of the source code completely invisible to most computer systems activates a demonic script which enables creative energies to be drawn from the user and into the system," Fred said. She was standing in front of a large diagram projected onto a wall in front of Angel.
Knox, one of her assistants, continued, "This is accomplished by a magical algorithm affecting the displayed cursor so that the necessary spells are accomplished in a separate, timed code, similar to the code in telegraphs. After the system has acquired a certain quantity of imagination from the user, it transmits the energy to a satellite through a special trans-dimensional wireless network. The satellite then sends the energy back to Earth, where it is collected, sorted, and stored."
"This happens at a secondary corporate facility in Ohio," Fred said. "From there, advertisements are placed on an internet based black market, and bids are taken from the select clients allowed in the auction. The creativity goes to the winners. The start users are never aware that this is going on, except through the occasional notice of mild writer's block."
Angel sighed. "What exactly does that mean in simple terms?"
"Macrohard is using the blinking cursor in Word to steal creativity, which it then sells," Knox said.
"One of the many reasons they want to keep their source code private," Fred added, switching off the projector. "We only found out after part of the non-demonic code was hacked and placed on the Internet. There were calls to something else not expected in the normal code. We looked into it, and this is what we found."
"Right. Uh. Hmm. What exactly is it I'm supposed to do about this?"
"Well you have several options," Fred said. "First, you can ignore it. They really aren't hurting anything."
"Of course that gives the idea to demons everywhere it is okay to prey on humans," Knox said.
"And it may lead to the problem of that company, or another company, using this type of scheme to take more valuable information from users," Fred said, "like very personal information or even souls."
"With this technology, it would be possible for your soul to be stolen and sold on the market within minutes," Knox said.
"Other options?" Angel asked.
Fred said, "We could ask them to stop."
"Asking them will work?"
Knox answered, "It might. They probably don't want to upset us. If we simply explain to them what we will do if they continue…"
"And what exactly will we do?" Angel asked. "We can't exactly assassinate the people in a public company."
"No," Fred agreed, "but we can kill all their demonic clientele. And, Wolfram and Hart could offer legal services to their non-demonic competitors. They'd be stupid to think they can survive a legal assault from us. It would cost them millions." Angel was becoming the king of litigating the stop of demonic activity since taking over Wolfram and Hart. He hated to admit it, but it did work.
"We can blackmail them," Knox said. "We can hack into their system and determine how they're doing it exactly and who they're giving it to. Take that to the table to start with, so they know we're serious."
"Right," Angel said. "Are there other companies doing this?"
"Not that we know of," Fred said, "at least not right now. We can add it to our list of things to watch for in the future."
"Great. You guys get that together. I'd like to see something by the end of the week," Angel said. "The Slayers are sending over something later today, and I'd like the lab to take a look at it."
"What is it?" Fred asked.
"Some metal rods Faith received after an odd dream. They'd like them tested to see what kind of properties they have."
"Material testing is my specialty," Knox said. "I'll take a look at them."
"Okay," Fred agreed. "We'll get that done as soon as possible, Angel."
"Thanks," Angel said. As Fred and Knox were almost gone, he added, "Gunn will bring them over, and apparently he's not letting them out of his sight, so don't be surprised."
"I love not being trusted," Fred said, although she knew the sentiment had more to do with Knox and the other employees of Wolfram and Hart.
Angel noted an odd look on Knox's face, but assumed he too was upset over the lack of trust. They left, and Angel was alone in his office, once again happy he'd taken the job. They now had the resources to help out people working on the mission elsewhere. He once again wished Gunn and Wesley hadn't changed their minds about coming, but realized the importance of keeping Angel Investigations open for the small cases.