Title: Principal Wood And The Manifest Spirits Of Sunnydale High

Author: mispel

E-mail: mispel@email.com

Rating: PG

Summary: Lessons revisited. The truth about how the 'zombies' came to haunt the school and Spike and Wood's involvement in their appearance. Ch 1: Xander tries to make sure that the new school is safe. Wood finds the basement irresistible. Spike donates blood.

Spoilers: season 7

Disclaimer: I own none of it. Joss, ME and Fox own all

Feedback: Any comments would be welcome.

A/N: I thought there were some things than needed explaining. I tried not to make this repetitive. Scenes that are not in the fic happened as they did on the show. The timeline is a tiny bit different.

Principal Wood And The Manifest Spirits Of Sunnydale High

Chapter 1

It was so noisy at the construction site that Xander couldn't understand a word anyone said to him. Voices just blended into the rumble that shook the ground as big machines did their work. He nodded absently as one of his guys said something he couldn't hear. His eyes were drawn to the school. It looked very white. He wondered if they had put on another coat of paint. It seemed to shimmer. Xander thought it might be the hot air rippling. But then the school started to vibrate. The rumbling became deafening and the school shook. Xander watched the new Sunnydale High School sink into the ground. From where he stood he could make out the screaming faces of students in the windows.

Xander sat up in bed and pushed off the covers. He was sweating. Getting up, he swore and went to get a glass of ice water.

The school stood newly painted, shining in the sun.

"What on the Hellmouth were they thinking?" Buffy wondered.

It looked nice and new but there was still the same, old Hellmouth underneath it.

"I can't believe I'm letting Dawn go to Hellmouth High."

"You can always home school her," Xander joked.

Buffy looked at him. It was going to be only a scathing glance, but he was wearing the hardhat and looking over some plans, all businesslike. So she stared at him for a second. He looked so adult, the working guy. Sometimes people came up to him to ask him questions and he knew the answers. He sounded different when he talked to them. He used different words. And his voice might have been a little deeper.

"So nothing weird and spooky in there."

"Nothing that wasn't there already," Xander told her without taking his eyes off the plans.

Buffy frowned not feeling very reassured.

"I'll be getting some more plans, just to make sure. Don't want Dawny falling into a big sinkhole."

A passing truck drowned out his last words. It stirred the air and the building plans fluttered like they were going to fly away.

As he watched Buffy walk away, Xander wondered if he did any good there. Well, other than make bucketfuls of money. Was this school any safer than the old one? The basement was bothering him. There was no new construction there, so he had outdated plans.

At least one of the workers had gotten lost down there. He claimed that the walls moved. But he was known to have a gin and sandwich for lunch.

"Why is it always the people with below zero credibility who see all the weirdness?"

Xander looked at the plans then turned them upside down and every other way he could think of. He found nothing. His gut told him that something was there. It also told him to eat the Doritos in his lunch box, but he told it, "no, you're not the boss of me." He looked over at the building. It would be filled with students - new backpacks, hundred dollar sneakers, passing through metal detectors and straight over the Hellmouth. Xander tried not to think about his dream.

Principal Wood walked through the empty halls of his new school, his footsteps echoing. He was the youngest principal in the state, maybe in the country. As he passed a classroom window, he saw his reflection. He was certainly the best looking. He made a motion as if to straighten his suit but there was no need - it fell perfectly. Smiling, he walked on enjoying the new, still unsullied interior. He smelled the strong smell of a new building - paint, lumber, plaster. He tried not to think of what lay below.

It was no use. Tomorrow, the halls would be swarming with students and Wood was no closer to figuring out the basement of his own school. He had walked cautiously, observed carefully, marked his path, drawn maps. All for nothing. The passages drew him in, took him where they wanted, or got him lost and then let him leave. It didn't do any good trying to be logical and methodical. He was dealing with unnatural forces and they only answered to their like.

"She can't see you like this."

Spike looked at a wall. He could see himself in it like it was a mirror. Maybe it wasn't him. How could he be sure? It could be anyone.

"Walls aren't mirrors. You have to fix yourself up," he told his reflection.

He turned away from the wall and then noticed something in his hand.

"Where did you come from?"

He laughed raising the knife to his face.

"We're old friends. You'll help me, won't you?"

Spike smiled at the shiny blade.

"I'll be a good boy, you just do your thing, pal."

He walked out of the room and through the basement halls. There was noise sometimes, maybe it came from his head, maybe it was outside.

"That's what happens when you split your head open. You can't tell out from in. Things spill out."

Spike walked until he came to a large room. It was the spot. But when he got close to the center, there was so much pain in his head he backed up.

He started cutting.

"Cut deep, dig it all out. Nothing to fear. Nothing to worry about."

The blood dripped over the blade, down his chest and to the dirt-covered floor.

Principal Wood had some time before the ribbon cutting ceremony. He took a deep breath as he stepped through the door to the basement. He kept his eyes open, trying to see in all directions at once. It happened fast - he took a turn left and then another left and he was lost. When he tried to retrace his steps, he found that the turns just weren't there.

"Promising career cut short, youngest principal in the country gets himself lost in his own basement, starves to death and is eaten by rats."

He took a turn at every corner hoping that way he wouldn't get too far from the entrance. Finally he was faced with a long stretch of corridor that only went straight.

"Don't go into the basement. You know the handsome, black guy always gets it first," he mumbled to himself as he walked forward.

The air was stale and a little cold. It smelled old, dank and dusty.

"Damn, I'm brave. I should get a medal," he said half sarcastically. The sound of his voice was almost like company, seeming solid in the shifty basement.

The corridor led to a large room with dirt on the floor. There seem to be slight indentation in the middle. As he walked toward it, his foot hit something. He looked around first then got down for a good look at the object. There was a dirk stain in the dirt and right next to it a knife. He dipped a finger in the spot and then raised it to his eyes.

"Blood."

He looked around again and picked up the knife. There was blood on it as well. As the Principal peered into the corners of the room, he held the knife at the ready. There was nothing there.

When Wood stood in the center of the room, he lowered the knife. Drops of blood glided down the blade and dripped off. Wood didn't see the way they disappeared once they hit the ground.

Hearing a maniacal laugh, Wood froze. It sounded like his own voice. But it couldn't have been - someone else must be down there. He was dizzy. His eyes felt like they were filling with blood. The blood pushed against his skin like he was an overfilled balloon. He had a strong urge to use the knife to open a way out for it before his skin burst. He started to lift the knife to his wrist. Bad idea. For a moment everything looked red until he staggered away, dropping the knife. Behind him the ground shifted a little and swallowed it.

To be continued