Chapter 2 – Persuasion and Excursion

"Alright," I told Faith the next day when she showed up at my house. "You've convinced me. Now you've got to convince my parents."

"Not a prob," the slayer replied with a smile, tying her hair up into a bun and slipping on a stylish pair of glasses. "Where are they?"

"Mom!" I called back into the house. "Dad! There's someone here who wants to talk to you."

"What?" my dad said, coming up the stairs from his basement workshop. It used to be that he only spent a few hours on the weekend down there. But lately? He retreated down there all the time, building things and fixing things that never worked, and I'm not quite sure they were ever supposed to.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Nguyen," Faith greeted him, her manner much more polite, sticking out her hand so he could shake it. "My name is Faith Lehane, I'm here to talk to you today about young Rita. She's been admitted to our school, the Summeridge Academy. I'm here to talk you into it."

"Is this some sort of scam?" he asked warily, looking back as my mother joined us from the kitchen.

"No, sir," she insisted, keeping up her proper act. God, even her Boston accent disappeared into something more respectable. "And you must be Mrs. Nguyen."

"Jensen, actually," my mother replied, shaking Faith's hand and giving my dad a little look. They think I don't see these things, but I do. It was one of the reasons I wanted to leave, so I wouldn't have to walk around on eggshells anymore.

"Of course," Faith nodded, handing each of my parents a folded piece of glossy paper that I recognized from the night before. "This brochure will give you a better understanding of what our school is all about."

"School?" asked my mother, glancing the paper once over and giving me a hard look. "Rita, did you apply to this school? In Scotland?"

Knowing my mother is one of the most pragmatic and no-nonsense people I've ever met, I lied and said, "Yes."

Faith gave me a knowing smile and agreed. "We were quite blown away by Rita's application. She'll fit right in at our institution."

"What exactly qualifies our daughter for your school, Ms Lehane?" my father asked, his voice implying that he knew there wasn't anything I was particularly good at. Thanks a lot, Dad.

"Now, I know this is a lot to take in all at once, but may I come in?"

"Yes," my mother nodded, leading the woman to our front room, pointing her to the big couch against one wall. She eyed Faith suspiciously for just a moment before asking, "Is your school accredited?"

Nodding, Faith replied, "Fully accredited by the British Independent Schools Council."

"But," my father muttered, sitting down in one of the armchairs, "I don't understand how she got in."

"Your daughter has had," Faith said, putting great importance on each of her words as she spoke them, "great potential for some time now. And now, it's time for that potential to be realized. Our school can help her do that."

Giving me an askance and still skeptical look, Mom said, "And how much do you think we're going to pay for this supposed opportunity?"

"Nothing," the slayer assured her. "Rita has qualified for one of our educational grants. All of her tuition, room and board, and travel expenses are covered."

"Wait a second," this time it was my Dad, reading the brochure, "it says here that your school was established just last year."

Clearing her throat and giving him a big smile, Faith explained, "While this is true, our school was built to take over, in spirit, from the Watchtower Academy in Oxford, a thousand-year-old institution which was destroyed by an unfortunate explosion eight months prior to our opening. Our board of directors, many of whom are from the Watchtower Academy, is quite experienced at providing a high level of education, and we've recruited excellent teachers from around the world."

My dad looked almost impressed at Faith's explanation and shrugged at my mom, his opinion obviously changed. Now it was just a matter of convincing my other parent. "We'll have to think about this," Mom said after a moment's silence, standing so that Faith would do the same.

"Of course, of course," Faith agreed, nodding deferentially. "But we would like Rita to start as soon as possible. Our summer classes will make sure she's fully prepared for the vigorous year ahead."

After seeing Faith out, my mom and dad turned to me, sitting me in the hot spot on the front room couch. The two glared at each other for a moment before Mom asked me, "Did you really apply to this school?"

"Yeah," I replied, thinking the previous night's escapades probably counted as a good application for a Slayers' School.

"Why?" Dad asked this time, going through the brochure once more.

"Because," I sighed, thinking. They knew I wasn't super smart, they knew I wasn't super ambitious and the only hobby I'd had growing up was gardening. In short, they knew I was nothing special. Some parents believe for way too long that their kids are special and deserve every possible opportunity they can get. These were not my parents. Finally, I concluded with, "Because I thought it would be nice to get out of Oregon for a while, to get out of this house for a while. I never really thought they'd accept my application." Hell, I was expecting to get a letter any day now that said, "Oops. We didn't mean to accept you."

While I was contemplating my sure future humiliation, my parents shared a long look. They'd been having so much trouble lately, it seemed like they were always arguing. I wasn't supposed to know, but I did know that my Dad had had an affair with someone. One of Mom's friends, I think. And I wondered, did they stay together because they wanted to work things out, or did they stay together because of me? I mean, Mom's not perfect either, despite the image she projects to the public, to people like Faith. But now, my parents shared a look that held an entire conversation, I was sure.

"I'll have to make some calls first," Mom said. "My friend Garrett should be able to tell us whether or not the school is legit."

Nodding and turning to me, my dad asked, "Are you sure you want to study so far away? You haven't even finished high school yet."

I thought that over. Could I get by being so far away from everyone? Did I really have a choice? Faith had shown me what I was, what I could do. And a big part of me wanted to see that through. I wanted to know everything, no matter what the cost. And just about anything seemed better than spending two more years in my parents' house, watching them slowly crumble apart. Nodding, I told them, "I'm sure."

"She's sure," Dad told Mom, and that was that. I was going to Scotland.

When my mom heard back from her friend, I got the go ahead to call Faith, opening with, "They said it was okay."

"Great, Oregon!" Faith replied. "I'll send you a plane ticket."

"Where are you?" I asked, trying to listen to the noise in the background over the phone.

Practically hearing her bright smile, Faith said, "Oh, don't worry about me, Brown-eyes. On to the next assignment and all. I'll see you when I stop by Scotland next, alright?"

"Yeah," I said, a little disappointed that she wouldn't be coming with and scared that I really would be on my own. Then, I wondered if she'd really liked me, or if her act was all part of the recruitment schtick. "What would you have done if they said no?"

"It's better if they agree on their own."

"And if they hadn't?"

Sighing, Faith moves somewhere with less noise in the background and said, "Look, Rita. You're a Slayer now. You're one of us and you're tough. I wish I could go with you, I really do. But I've got another girl to scoop up. She's only ten, Rita. She needs me more than you do, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"You'll love the people there," Faith said. "I promise."

"So, see you later?"

"Yeah," Faith said, laughing a little so I couldn't help but smile. "See you when I see you, Slayer."

The plane ticket Faith sent arrived in the mail two days later – a flight from Portland to Cleveland scheduled for two weeks later, so I could have enough time to say goodbye. Saying goodbye wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. Mom helped me pack a suitcase with most of my clothes and some of my favorite knick-knacks. Halfway through, she gave me a framed photo of my brother and me at his college graduation. "So he can go with you," Mom whispered as she handed it over.

"You'll come visit during family weekend?" I asked them when my parents dropped me off at the airport.

"We'll s –" Mom began, but Dad cut her off.

"We'll be there, make a trip of it."

I nodded and walked away, looking back once to see my parents holding hands. They hadn't done that in so long, I found myself surprised, And as I went through security and got on the plane, I found myself smiling.

In Cleveland, I was met by a town car driver holding a sign with my name in big black letters, who took me to another airfield where I boarded a plane with the Summeridge Academy logo emblazoned on the side. How the hell did a school that didn't charge tuition afford its own plane?

There were just two other people on the plane when it took off, besides the pilots: another girl my age who said her name was Jenny and a college boy named Grayson Thewley the Third. She was California cool with deep brown skin and the most fashionable clothes, and he was wearing an impressive suit that screamed East Coast royalty. What the hell was I getting myself into?

When we landed in Scotland, a tall guy with black hair and a rakish eye patch met us on the tarmac. "Hello my American compatriots!" he cried with a bright smile. "Welcome to Scotland! I'm Xander Harris and you should feel very honored to have me here! I don't often make pick-up runs to the airport anymore!"

"Ignore him," a short blonde woman shouted from beside the car behind Xander. "He's just boasting," she continued walking toward us with a smile, "because you're new and haven't realized how lame he is." I noticed as she approached that she was considerably shorter than anyone in the group. Yet somehow, she emitted this air of cool authority or power, despite her sunny attitude and small stature.

She stopped in front of us, standing beside Xander and introduced herself. "I'm Buffy Summers, the principal and founder of Summeridge Academy."

"But you're so young!" Jenny blurted out. Looking closer, I saw she was right. Buffy wasn't that much older than me. I guessed, about the same age as Faith – early or mid twenties.

"Oh, believe me," she laughed. "I feel a lot older than I look. I'm in charge of the Slayers," she turned to indicate the man at her side, "and Xander's in charge of the Watcher half of things."

"What's a Watcher?" I asked, finally finding the courage to speak up.

"That's what young Mister Thewley is here for," Xander smiled, holding out a hand to indicate Grayson.

"So it isn't a girl's school?" Jenny asked, looking almost relieved.

"There are a few male specimens here and there," Buffy answered her. "C'mon. Let's get moving. Diane wants us home for dinner."

"It's always about food with you, Buffy," Xander prodded her shoulder with his finger as they turned and led us from the airplane and toward a minivan emblazoned with the Academy's logo, which I recognized from the pamphlet Faith had given me.

"Shut up!" she shouted back, pushing him away with a giggle very much like a teenager's. Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad.

Xander drove the van and Buffy sat in the passenger seat, turning around to face us as we drove. "So, Rita?" she asked me, looking back to where I was seated behind Xander.

"Yes?"

"Remind me where you're from again?"

"Oregon," I replied, trying not to be bashful. She was so pretty, and obviously a California girl, if the comparisons to Jenny's accent were right.

"Right!" she said, suddenly excited. "You're the one who dusted a vamp on your first try!"

Grayson, who was sitting next to me, looked away from the window, giving me an impressed glance before returning to his post, watching the scenery go by.

"Uh, Faith told you about that, huh?"

"She indeedy did!" Xander spoke up. "Nice goin'! That's no easy feat!"

"Really? Faith seemed pretty good at it."

"Faith," Buffy began with a compassionate tone in her voice, "has almost as much experience as me. And we both missed the heart the first time we tried."

"Woah," I breathed. There's no way I could actually be good at something, was there?

From the back seat, Jenny muttered, "Beginner's luck," but I don't think Buffy heard her.

"So you're a Slayer, too?" I asked Buffy, getting her attention back from the road ahead of us.

"One and only original Slayer," she replied with a nod. "Accept no substitutes." Xander murmured something that I didn't catch and Buffy said, "Right! Orientation!"

Shuffling herself so she could see us all better, Buffy began, "We're headed to Slayer Central, as those of us in the know like to call it. Diane Svenson's in charge of the castle, so she'll get you all settled in and fed. Just a warning, though: she's proud of her job and she's one of the best slayers we have, so don't cross her if you value your life." When she paused, Xander gave a knowing chuckle, like he'd been on Diane's bad side too often. "There are bunches of teachers for regular classes and special subjects and you can feel free to ask any of them whatever you want."

"How will we know who they are?" I asked her.

With a grin, Buffy replied, "They're the ones who look like they know what the hell they're doing!" I chuckled in response. Buffy was amazing and I was really starting to like her. Glancing back, I could tell that Jenny wasn't so impressed, but she was probably just being a snot.

"Anyways," Buffy continued. "We also house a lot of Slayers who are finished with schooling and training. They're sort of like our military – protecting the school, going out on missions to fight evil and so on." She took a breath looking up to the ceiling as if trying to remember what came next. "Oh, yeah! We've got two resident good-guy vamps. Don't freak out and try to kill them, because I will not be pleased, and you will probably get hurt. I don't think you'll see much of Angel, but Spike is in charge of combat training, so you'll all be sick of him before too long."

"You'll be sick of Peroxide-brain within two minutes!" Xander added.

Buffy responded by shaking her head and telling me conspiratorially, "Spike's not that bad. He's a big softie once you get to know him."

"Sure," I nodded, eager to meet all these people Buffy was talking about because they seemed so much better than the people I'd left behind.

I was not disappointed. When we pulled up to the Academy, it was an honest-to-God castle, with towers and everything. "How Hogwarts," I commented as Xander drove the van up the switchbacks to the front gate, which opened almost like a giant garage door when he pressed a button on the dashboard. We parked in a building to one side of the courtyard, which already had quite a few cars in it.

As we unloaded our things from the back, Xander said, "None of these cars belong to you, so don't even think about touching them. Lots of them belong to the company, and you'll have to pass a test before Angel will even consider giving you the keys."

"He still won't let me drive," Buffy pouted, crossing her arms under her breasts.

"Buffy," Xander replied, "you're, like, the worst driver there's ever been. It's no wonder he won't give you the keys."

"One of these days," she said jokingly, waving us to follow them out of the garage and up to the main entrance, "I'm going to have Spike teach me how to hot-wire a car. Then we'll see who Miss Doesn't-Get-to-Drive is!"

"Which car would you take?" Xander asked, playing along with her joke. I found myself grinning along with them, feeling somehow included, even though Xander and Buffy were just talking to each other and leading the way.

"Angel's car, duh," she smiled, pointing back at a bright blue sports car as we passed it on our way out of the garage. "Can you imagine how fun that thing would be to zoom around in?"

"I don't have to imagine," Xander replied, with a grin that implied he'd already driven it, earning a smack on his arm. "Ow! Buff, sometimes you forget your own strength!"

"I barely touched you!" she laughed, and I found myself laughing quietly along with her. Oh, if this school was anything like the orientation so far, I was going to love it here.

Diane Svenson was a tall blonde woman who reminded me a lot of a much younger, much nicer, version of my mom. She showed me and Jenny around, leaving Grayson to Xander's care. Buffy said she'd see us later and went off to do her own thing. So we saw the kitchen and the big dining room that looked more like a huge school cafeteria, only with real stone walls instead of cinderblock. The rest of the downstairs was a series of classrooms, most of which had girls and a few boys in them, either listening to the teacher or goofing off or sleeping in the back.

Diane then led us into the basement, bidding us to watch our step as we spiraled downward. At the foot of the stairs was a small area with two doors leading from it. Diane pointed to the one on the right, and said, "That door is the dungeon. We keep students who misbehave in there."

"Really?" Jenny asked, for once losing her apathetic attitude and showing something like apprehension.

"No," Diane laughed. "We keep demons and things in there, for certain lessons. So don't go in there at all. Ever."

"Right," I nodded. "Got it."

Shaking her head at the mortified look on Jenny's face, Diane led us to the door on the left. "This one leads to the Training Room," she said, hefting it open by the big ring that served as the doorknob. "You'll be spending a lot of time down here."

She led us into a big open space which looked a lot like a dungeon, except that the ceiling was higher than I would have thought and was lined with those industrial fluorescent lights, giving the room a bright, if surreal, appearance. We had to walk down a flight of stairs to get to the main level, where a lot of activity was going on.

At the far side of the room was a lot of fitness equipment, weights and gymnastics-looking things, but closer to us there was a huge open space covered in blue padding. And in the center of that padding, fighting off eight girls, was a man with bleached blond hair. He was wearing dark jeans, combat boots, and a tight black t-shirt that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

When he saw us, he threw the girl that jumped at him to the ground and stumbled away from the fight, coming up to us and saying in an anything-but-stuffy British accent, "Heya, ducks! You must be the new recruits." He was panting a little, but had a bright smile on his face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and brilliantly blue eyes. His eyebrows were medium brown and much darker than his platinum blond hair, their arch completing his happy expression.

I flinched when a red-headed girl rushed at him, but he just ducked like he knew she'd been coming up behind him and, grabbing her arm, swung her back toward the rest of the girls like she weighed almost nothing. "Nice try, cupcake!" he called back before sniffing and putting his hands on his hips. "Name's Spike. Who're you, then?" Spike? The vampire Buffy had told us about? No wonder he'd been so strong.

"Uh," I stuttered, giving him a little bit of a wave and noticing how his wiry arm muscles stood out when he stood like that. "I'm Rita Nguyen."

"American, luv?" he nodded.

"Yeah, we both are," I replied, finding his brisk and almost happy-go-lucky attitude intimidating, not to mention the scary strength he'd shown when he threw that girl a good ten feet across the room. Looking past him as Jenny introduced herself, I saw that the redhead was up on her feet, grinning as she whispered with a girl who looked Middle Eastern. Their body language definitely said they were up to something.

"Welcome, welcome, pets!" Spike smiled at us again. "I s'pose I'll see you for lessons tomorrow, yeah?"

I looked up to Diane, who nodded, so I turned back to Spike and nodded in kind.

"Ta, then," he said with a final nod, walking backwards towards the group of girls and falling onto his back on the padded floor, just in time to duck a wooden stick swung by the redhead. In one continuous movement, he kept rolling back over his head and onto his feet before being socked in the face by the Middle Eastern girl. "Oh, bloody hell," he laughed before spitting what looked like a mouthful of blood onto the floor. "Got me good, Slayer! Nice teamwork!"

Diane shook her head with a laugh and led us back up to the main floor, and then up further. "Most of the sleeping quarters are on this level and the one above," she explained, bringing us down a hallway and pushing aside a tapestry to reveal another set of stairs. If not for the lights tacked to the stone wall, the stairway would have been pitch black. With the lights on, it was upgraded to mostly dim. When we got to the next floor, it was much brighter due to big windows on either end of the hallway and I could tell this floor was much smaller than the previous ones. "This is the Northern Wing, where both of you will be staying."

Really hoping Jenny and I wouldn't be staying in the same room, I asked Diane, "Is there a Southern Wing?"

"Indeed," she said, stopping in front of a small door. "But that is where the boys live," she winked at me. "Jenny, this will be your room." Oh, thank god. I wasn't staying with her.

"Does it have a number or something?" the dark-skinned girl asked, looking up and down the hallway at all the identical looking doors.

"No," Diane replied simply, like it was a question she got all the time. "But feel free to decorate the door to make it your own." She pushed open the door, revealing a small but bright room with a twin-sized four poster bed, a big dresser with a mirror above and a desk just under the window. Jenny's bags were already in the center of the floor and there was another door beside the dresser, which Diane said led to a shared bathroom. "Two girls per shower," she nodded. "Better than my old dorm!"

"You went to college?" I asked her as Diane and I left together to go find my room.

"Yes. I got through two whole semesters at Oslo before I was called."

"And then you left? Came here?"

Nodding, Diane opened another door, about five or six down from Jenny's, showing me in. "Those first few months were really dangerous for us Slayers. There were these detestable priests who kept trying to kill us. So it was better to come here and learn how to defend myself. And then I just got used to it here," she shrugged, sitting down on the bed and watching as I explored my new room. I knocked before opening the bathroom door, but there was no other door leading from it.

"I get my own?" I asked Diane, just about jumping in glee when she nodded.

"Don't tell the others, but some of the rooms don't share a bath. Faith said she really liked you, so she asked me to give you nice, ah, 'digs' she called them."

"Wow! Thanks!" I said, pulling out the desk chair and sinking into it. "I can't believe all of this is paid for already. I was expecting standard-issue dorm furniture," I said, thinking of Stacey's dorm when he was a freshman at Washington State, "but this shit is nice!"

Diane chuckled and I wondered if I should apologize for swearing. "Will you be okay unpacking until dinner?" she asked.

"Yeah," I nodded. "But is there a phone somewhere?"

"No landlines for international calls except in Angel's office. But a friend of Andrew's rigged up the whole place with wireless internet."

"Fancy," I said, more and more impressed and wondering who this Andrew person was. "But I don't…"

"Look in the desk," Diane said with a smile as she stood up and left the room.

Curious, I opened all of the desk drawers until I found a laptop and a power cord in one of them. "Sweet." Soon I was e-mailing my parents and my best friend, telling them I'd made it to Scotland in one piece and was really excited about everything. As I finished unpacking my clothes into the dresser and showered to wash off the stink of traveling, I wondered what dinner with the rest of the school would bring.

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