Commander In Chief
Book One: Sunnydale
Prologue
The last of the dust and debris from the High School explosion had finally settled, the last gasp of a hard-fought, hard-won battle to save the town and, indeed, the rest of the world from a man who had finally given himself over to his darkest urges and become a demon so foul that none would hope to survive its hunger. The young man that had led the charge against Richard Wilkins had seen many friends lost in this last fight, many dear souls that would never again have a chance to make something of themselves in this world. The worse part was that the world would never know what their sacrifices meant; a vast conspiracy and a cover-up would guarantee that the true face of the darkness in this town would never be known to the world at large, and for a very good reason.
But to Xander Harris, their lives meant much, and the loss of those lives meant much more. As the last flames flickered and finally died, signifying the true end of this battle against the Dark, he looked upon the battleground and made to himself a solemn vow to make those sacrifices mean more than this. They were true heroes; someone had to tell their story. He silently recalled their names and made his vow in their memory.
To Larry Blaisdell, Harmony Kendall and the others whose names he had barely remembered but mattered no less for it, he swore that their memory would live on in song and story. As clichéd as he was aware it sounded, Xander knew it meant a great deal, and he would treat it as seriously as the Klingons did.
Time to get to work...
Chapter One
1630 Revello Drive, the Summers Residence, Two days later…
Five pairs of eyes were glued to the television as the latest news played itself out on one of the local news channels out of Los Angeles. A reporter from the local affiliate station in Sunnydale was describing the latest in a series of bizarre accidents that seemed to follow in the wake of Richard Wilkins' death. Upon Xander's knock, five pairs of eyes looked expectedly at him. One of those pairs of eyes which belonged to a rich flowing mane of ash-blonde hair and stylish clothes adorning a forty-something woman's body strode gracefully to the door and opened it, stepping aside as she welcomed Xander into the house.
He crossed the threshold at her unspoken invitiation, letting himself in as was the custom amongst the warier of Sunnydale residents, and listening to the reporter as she went on…
"This latest death of yet another high-level official in Sunnydale's municipal government has left a lot of questions to be asked, now that a virtual power vacuum exists in City Hall, but the most important question at the moment may be this…who now is qualified to take the reins where Richard Wilkins left off? This is Sandy Mendoza live in Sunnydale, Channel Six News, now back to you in the studio."
"I thought blowing up the snake was more effective than cutting off the head," Xander quipped at hearing the reporter sign off.
"And good morning to you too," fired back Buffy. Over her shoulder, Dawn was doing her best beside her big sister to act coy and uninterested. As though with a sixth sense, Buffy read Xander's response like an open book and then gave Dawn a very light nudge in the ribs. Considering Slayer strength, Buffy didn't want to be the sister that went overboard at the slightest provocation. Dawn's "Oof!" was punctuated by the very uninterested expression that now graced her features.
"It would appear to have been doubly effective in this case," input Giles, as he joined the others in the living room, Joyce having mysteriously appeared behind him, as mothers often do, Xander marveled, the two of them carrying trays laden with comfort food. "The destruction of the late and much-unlamented Mayor apparently prompted his, ah, 'business partners' in the supernatural world to collect on his debts; with his demise, their interests now have turned to those whose dealings and collaborations with Wilkins have joined their fates to his. They are now paying the price for Wilkins' misdeeds."
"Those nasty debt collectors," Xander mused out loud, half with attempted humor and half with a touch of solemnity, "so much fun, even for century-old city officials..."
"Indeed," replied Giles. "Thus the resulting power vacuum. Unfortunately none of us here is any expert on unusual events in municipal politics, so we have few ideas as to what we may predict in this case. Doubtless one of the other communities, perhaps Sacramento, may conduct an official inquiry as to the disappearances of so much of Sunnydale's power structure."
"You ask me," said Buffy, "I'd have been more than happy if this town had ceased existing along with the Mayor. I mean, he founded the city for the sole purpose of drawing in innocent lives to the Hellmouth to be extinguished, so if the rest of the town were to suddenly pull up stakes, no pun intended, and just leave, it would make our jobs that much easier."
"Yeah, that makes a lot of sense, Buffy, except for the one small part where we try to convince everyone who was born and raised here that their home would best serve as a ghost town because it's a demon magnet. And which amongst us is born and raised Sunnydale?" To drive the point home, Xander raised his hand. The only other Sunnydale native present in the room raised her hand as well, further solidifying his position.
The others looked around, expressions of shame and chagrin occupying equal places in their countenances; seing it all confirmed the point Xander had made. Nodding, he continued. "This is our home, you guys, and have we not fought and bled for it many times over the past three years? So we can't just leave, and I for one refuse to."
"Then might I suggest an alternative, Xander?" pressed Giles. Looking at Xander pointedly, an amazingly foolish idea entered into the mind of the former Watcher.
"You've got that look in your eye, Watcher-mine..." piped in Buffy. "What's the what?"
The Englishman took off his glasses and began to polish them; clearly the idea made Giles as anxious as it did the rest of the Scooby gang.
"With most, if not all, of the municipal and the corporate infrastructure seemingly wiped from existence, many of Wilkins' contingencies for government continuity have been shot out of the proverbial water, to use the vernacular. The only real hope the city has, then, would be for someone to literally step in and take charge in City Hall."
"Well, who's that gonna be? The police force is almost irredeemably corrupt," asked Joyce, "so they can't do it; this town also has barely any lawyers, let alone any who could predict what sort of fallout will result from the government having seemingly, and for all intents and purposes, gutted. The bankers in Sunnydale almost all dealt with Wilkins to keep the city running, and they disappeared too, so who does that leave? Who would Sunnydale want to step into City Hall, as you said, and take charge?"
"Well, I don't know," responded Willow, having been considering the issue, "but we really don't want Sacramento getting involved with all the um, 'failing community' and the 'intervention', and with the Hellmouth under the old High School library…or, should I say, 'ruins of' the High School, shouldn't we like, prevent that from happening?"
"Well spoken, Willow," said Giles; he had always admired the young witch's intellect. "I do agree that public awareness of the Hellmouth is not what we can afford to risk. Such awareness notwithstanding, of course, the issue of state intervention in the matters of, as you put it, failing communities, is a problematic aspect at best. It is certainly not a cure-all." He paused for a moment to think, and suddenly he paled. Still, he could not deny the facts as they stood.
"One of you will have to take charge in City Hall, and serve in a capacity as Acting Mayor," he said at length, causing a collective gasp to erupt in the Summers' living room.
Joyce did not hesitate. "That is out of the question, Rupert Giles; these are children! They have not the least bit of qualifying traits that would enable them to take responsibility for the management of the entire town, and especially under these circumstances. That's ludicrous!"
"Um, high school graduates here…" said the ever-laconic Oz for the first time since Xander entered the discussion.
"Let us put aside youth for the moment, and focus on just what the circumstances are, lest everyone here forget that as of yesterday, Sunnydale no longer has a functioning government. Forget the qualifications; these 'children', as you have mislabeled them, have done more and sacrificed much for this town, indeed for humanity as a whole in the past three years than the previous administration under Wilkins did in the last one hundred. There will be no time for a political campaign; whichever of these young adults will choose to serve must do so as soon as humanly possible. We just need to figure out who it will be," countered Giles.
"Even if one of us does take over as Mayor," Xander countered in his own turn, "how do we convince some task force from Sacramento that all these high profile dead were just some freak occurrence? These people up there don't believe in coincidences, and they are gonna want answers. Somehow I don't think their links to Wilkins are gonna be sufficient for the Capitol boys and girls to leave us alone…and I don't believe all those words just came floating out of my mouth." His eyes had widened, his face pallid as a sheet, by the time he had finished speaking.
"I believe it," quipped Oz, the frown on his face evincing pleasant acceptance; his nodding head must have given it away. His expression became a bit more somber as he added, "I can't be Mayor, though. Too rebellious."
Molon Labe…mused Xander, remembering a famous Spartan expression noted for its laconic quality as much as for having been quite the daring response to the Persians' call to lay down their weapons. For all Oz knew, he could have been another Leonidas.
Oz then turned to Joyce, who backed away, hands raised to ward away an unseen evil.
"Oh no, don't look at me," she replied hastily, "I'm an art dealer, not a politician."
Realizing the urgency of her need to put in her own two cents, Buffy quickly added, "And I'm Action Girl, not Policy Girl or Political Girl or whatever you're looking for; I tend not to focus too much on balance sheets and ordnances or whatever, and I settle accounts with either my fists or Mr. Pointy…"
Then it was Willow's turn. "And I might be a super genius when it comes to computers and such, and I might actually be decent with magicks, but I'm a total spaz when it comes to talking in front of such a large crowd. I can't be Mayor…"
"And Cordelia left first thing this morning, so she pretty much showed us how much she cares about this town," Xander finished for them all, and then he suddenly paled as he realized how much he'd narrowed down the list of candidates. "Damn…" he concluded, his face gone slack with shock. "Giles can't do it – not a US citizen, and Dawn's not even in high school yet…"
All eyes turned to the obvious choice, and then Buffy sighed as she shrugged her shoulders with resignation.