Chapter Two
Everyone saw what happened at The Bronze on the news. The piles of the dead, the message in blood, HE IS RISEN. Few saw the less literal writing on the wall.
There was school the next day, as if nothing unusual happened at all. Some of the seats were empty in class, some of the students were especially quiet, anxiously eying the spaces their friends normally occupied. Other students hardly noticed.
Shafts of sunlight beamed through the tall windows of the computer lab like a blessing, and the classroom was alive with chatter. But for Jenny, the mood of the day was captured by the black backgrounds and dark text favoured by those in the technopagan community, as she trawled the Internet for omens and portents, some way to make sense of what had happened the night before. She'd given her students a period of free lab time so she could concentrate, and most of them took the opportunity to gossip instead of use the computers. Despite her intentions, she could overhear them trading stories about various horrors they'd seen in Sunnydale, each one confirming her suspicion that there was something deeply evil about the place.
She'd just managed to get a hold of an expert on blood rites and human sacrifices in a chat room, when one of the students approached her desk.
"Is this important?" she asked, without taking her eyes off the screen.
"I was just wondering if you've seen Willow around?"
Jenny paused. Willow's absence was the first that she noticed that morning. The girl was always so bright and eager to learn, the best in the class, and the emptiness of her workstation was conspicuous.
She turned her attention to the boy. His face was tense, and his eyes wide, like a lost child.
"No, I haven't," she answered gently. "Xander, right?"
He nodded and shuffled his feet. "It's just, I know she loves your class, so if she knew she was going to miss it, maybe –"
"I'm sorry," Jenny said sincerely. Maybe too sincerely, too final-sounding.
Xander shrugged it off. "Gotta congratulate her tomorrow," he said, smiling weakly. "First time playing hooky."
Jenny returned his smile with one just as weak, and he went back to his desk. She watched him – fidgeting restlessly one moment, still and staring the next – for a while, before she remembered that she was in the midst of a conversation that could provide answers.
Giles was alone in the library, as was usually the case. When he'd first seen the place, he'd thought it was perfect – lots of space for training, room for his personal collection of occult texts as well as weapons, and hardly ever frequented by students. Despite the school building it was a part of, the library felt old, with weight and substance, like the libraries he was used to in England.
Without a Slayer, it was, all of it, truly empty.
Earlier in the day, Giles had called everyone he could think of – running up the school's long-distance bill, but that would hardly matter if everyone was dead the next day. He'd discussed, and pleaded, and argued with everyone he could get a hold of. But the Slayer was bound elsewhere. The Council wasn't sending any help at all –
Not immediately, anyways, he reminded himself. The Slayer's change of plans was a surprise to everyone, of course the Council needed time to deliberate, to make the best decision. Giles may have had his differences with them in the past, but they wouldn't abandon an entire town. They'd send help soon.
But for the moment, for that swiftly approaching nightfall, Giles was alone.
The study table was piled high with books, as he searched desperately for something he could do to forestall whatever attack was certain to come. The diaries of past Watchers offered no guidance; they'd all had Slayers to face down the demons. He had weapons, but no one to wield them.
Except, he realized, that wasn't quite true.
There was something he could do. Really, it was the only thing.