BTVS: In League Pt 9
-BTVS multi-
In general, people avoided discussions of height in Buffy's presence, but sometimes it was unavoidable; like now. The Slayer Queen stared up at the man who was pretty much her father in all but name and genetics. Oddly, it wasn't the fact that his presence set her radar pinging. It always had, though much more lightly. It wasn't even really the horns, though that was a trip. They had been through horns before, so, yeah, they'd cope. It wasn't the rueful and flustered expression or the lack of glasses.
It was that she felt like she had to get a stair-step to look him in the eyes, at least nominally.
Damn it, why was it everyone else got the height fix when these things happened. It's like the height fairy went around banging people on the head with a tall wand, and kept skipping her.
On the other hand, Rupert Giles mostly looked like himself, and he wasn't trying to dismember anyone.
"Jenny will be arriving soon," he said, continuing a conversation they were having in the conference room. "You may notice that she is also altered in her appearance."
Ah, thought Buffy, that would explain the smell of roses and other scents. Jana. She was alive. Okay, so that brought a warmth of tears to Buffy's eyes; even though, technically, they'd already knew. "Oh. Hey. We can totally …"
Willow, expression somber, handed her a kleenex and Buffy dabbed. "... yeah."
Fortunately, Giles was very adept at the verbal shorthand of his children. "Yes. Quite. I understand that contact has been made with other lost souls already?"
"Sam said to expect a friend and his son. Faith called again. She's in Denver and getting some breakfast. Said she pinged a potential and wanted to know if we wanted her to check it out. I said to come on home. We've had a report from Lima, Ohio of all places. The Cheerios." That thought cheered her up almost immediately about the height issue. She remembered that she wasn't alone. Thank goddess for Rachel Berry. They were short people together. Buffy's smile widened, even as she spoke very seriously, "They're going to be doing a bit of cleanup in and around their hometown and then head to New York, since we know that city never sleeps and for good reason. But that said, I told them to be careful and not rush down, even though we know they have family down that way. I just don't want to spook any of the old council just yet."
Rupert exhaled slowly. "Wise. I find I have no interest in contacting them at all at this point. Yet..."
"Keeping them busy with what we have going on down here would make a good cover. And, we could save them. Some of them." Buffy's eyes narrowed. "The good ones."
Giles cleared his throat. "Yes. Well. Staying under radar is not our only option now, but you're right. There is no need to push it."
Buffy offered him a shiny smile. "Great." Then her expression narrowed to something much more dangerous. "I guess, with Faith coming, that means add in Kakidude on the bad-guy list too. I'd nearly forgotten him."
Rupert's smile was affectionate, despite her mangling of the name. It was good to see some things remained the same.
-BTVS multi-
Jenny Calendar had been a beautiful woman of slightly above average height, pale skin, dark hair and dark eyes. She was part of the memory of every member of the original Scoobies, their first real casualty as a group. She was also part of the memory of the family and they knew that she was alive and transformed.
As Giles' description had been more than a little vague, no one quite knew what to expect. But, since his transformation, like Cordelia's, had been one of the more obvious set, they understood that it might be unusual. He was also, apparently, trying to control it and had visibly shifted at least twice during the conference, growing to appear more and more like himself. The horns were definitely shrinking and the eyes had lost that yellow coloration, but he was still taller and broader of shoulder.
The new family, including a sleepy-eyed Agatha after a full night and partial morning of monitoring, building and sparking things along, were in the main conference-slash-control room adding bits and pieces of "things that might happen, that we remember happening or a possible ripple," to a database of webbed concepts that was growing larger and more intricate as they worked on it. This database did not just include what the Sunnydaler's remembered, but also, in general terms what Donna, Jame, Helen, Mina and Sam remembered; as they had all been at varying points of future times, with their body clocks set back, along with the others. If an event was even remotely possible, it was put in. If it was totally improbable, it was put in and notated as such. This was, in a grand sense, the brainstorm.
It was also complex enough that, the computer "mind" behind the scenes was processing hard and fast, trying to keep up. Andrew's machine had been upgraded by Agatha, once she got a hold of it, but it was still a baby and still not quite sentient.
Not that she meant to make it sentient, but... everything Agatha sparked did inevitably gain their own spirit of the machine.
It was while they were deep into the discussion that Jenny arrived, escorted by one of the Jagermonsters who had taken up residence somewhere in the deep of the new "Castle," and was now actively on their version of duty. He was chattering away at Jenny, speaking a language that under normal circumstances very few people in the room would have known, but as it was, it just seemed heavily accented to them; Romany, with a Germanic tinge, which was just like the Jager's "English" accent, such as it was. The translation spell had done its job for the Scoobies, however, and the family understood what was being said quite clearly.
He was telling Jana, that they were very distantly related; and not just in multiverse terms. His family name was very close to Kalderash. Willow wasn't the only one who experienced a shiver at that revelation.
Isk, which name was a version of Isaac, finished leading Jenny into the conference room. Willow was slowly, slowly putting names to faces. She knew from memory that the Jagers were originally "made" persons, men and women, who had made the decision to become what they were, either through profound loyalty or necessity. It was a calling, not just an existence; like being a Scooby. Though, she understood that this did not mean that they could not increase in more "natural" ways once they had been transformed. She made a mental note to do some research. In a way, she could hardly wait to see the Jager's reaction when Buffy finally gave into her jitters and utilized one of the exercise rooms. Right now the Jagers were treating everyone as weaker extensions of Agatha. They too had things to learn.
Isk did not have a chance to finish his story. Like Joyce, the introduction of Jenny into their midst, even if she were taller, redder and weaving a tail through the air in a state of high anxiety, was profound. The teacher found herself wrapped up in a weepy group hug as Willow, Cordelia, Buffy and Xander basically tackled her. If she had been worried that she wouldn't be recognized, that had been definitely been shown to be unnecessary. And forgiveness for a horrible mistake remembered, but not yet committed, was, like with many of them, granted without thought or consideration.
They were truly, without a doubt, just glad that she was once again among them.
-BTVS multi-
"Well," Jenny said, after hanging up the phone, "The illustrious Snyder is glad the children are okay. He's apparently got a lost-and-found list going, as parents reach out to him and has asked us to essentially keep the kids here until they can come pick them up. We, of course, agreed."
"Excellent. Thank you, Jenny," Rupert smiled, looking more than a little relieved. It was good to have her back in their court, and not just because she was breathing and he had loved her, but because she did have a way of running interference with the miniature tyrant that none of them had ever been able to replicate. He turned, speaking, "Agatha, if you could..." He paused, taking in the sight of the slumbering woman. She was rumpled, glasses on her forehead, and her body slumped in the soft chair. She looked adorable. He carried on. "...continue sleeping. Buffy, if you would?"
The slayer nodded, and they all waited quietly, if with affectionate amusement, as the inventor was lifted from the chair and then carried out of the room.
Rupert cleared his throat. "I think, perhaps, that is our signal. I believe we've accomplished enough for now. Perhaps we ought to see to the care of our guests and investigate the changes in our town."
"You don't want to deal immediately with the Mayor?"
"Not until we have a plan in motion. At the moment the news reports that he is out of town, but his people will be coping with the crisis in the usual style and efficiency, which gives us leeway and sets the greater part of our community on the path to quick reconstruction anyhow. Mayor Wilkins may be evil, but like others of his ambitious ilk, at least the trains run on time."
"Point."
-BTVS multi-
Later, Buffy sat beside Willow and took her hand. "So. I was expecting you to speak up earlier."
Willow, who had not been looking at anything in particular and whose attention was definitely not in the moment, did not reply quickly. But when she did, it was with a squeak. "Speak up?"
"Mm. Yep, you know, when we were conferencing about all the things that need doing, people that needed getting. And I can think of at least one thing in particular you might have been seriously interested in. With not one word from you. See, and that's how I knew. Are we going to go get her?"
Willow's mouth moved as if she wanted to say something but couldn't. Buffy watched as one of the most powerful people she knew curled in on herself. "I...Buffy, I don't know. I thought... I want..." The witch's pained expression carried a lot of history.
"Ah. You're panicking. I get that." Buffy nodded wisely. "But, you know, she was there, right. We all were there." She brushed a lock of dark-red hair back.
"What if she doesn't want to..."
"Pfff. Come on. This is Tara we're talking about. She'd come after you if you were in the deepest hole of holiness." Buffy blinked and thought for a minute. "That didn't come out right."
Buffy's effort made Willow smile and that momentary relief was enough to spark her thoughts enough to reply meaningfully. "I'm a little afraid to check and see, magic-wise, since everything has been such a cock-up so far."
"Well. I wouldn't call it that, but I can see your point. So, we wait a day or two?" Buffy considered the idea, comparing it to what they knew of Tara past and present. She knew that if the young woman was able, she would probably already be making arrangements to get away. She also knew that the woman's father was, broadly put, temperamental. They could go rushing down, but would it help? On the other hand, their Tara was no weakling and she was very smart. After all, she'd managed to leave the grasp of the family in their other timeline. The slayer in Buffy might want to go pound things, but she had learned to harness her abilities and emotions too. It was another reason why she had managed to live so long. But being able to separate the impulse from the needs of the moment meant she could be the tactician, and now, she supposed, the inventor; already a plan for a machine, specifically geared toward dangerous environment type search and rescue was forming in her imagination. She didn't quite shake it off, particularly when she kept envisioning a giant metal fist impacting with the step-father's face. The thought of which put a particularly wicked smile on her face when she replied, "And then, if we haven't heard..."
"We go get my Tara. I really need to retune before we do anything, which is another reason I'm hesitating. I'm really off kilter, but that means concentration and we have so much to do first."
"Our Tara. And good. Glad that's settled. So we can focus on what needs doing around here most immediately. And you can get centrified, or whatever."
"Centered. Yeah. That would be a good idea." Willow looked away again and muttered, "That would be a really good idea."
Buffy just smiled affectionately at her and squeezed the witch's hand.
-BTVS multi-
Sunnydale, at least locally, was understood as a form of middle class suburbia. It had just the right mix of wealth, little in the way of true poverty, and the infrastructure to support all kinds of businesses and shops. The Mall, if people remembered outside of the town, was actually one of the better ones around. The University was an intellectual haven and they had managed to have professional workshops and campus visitors like all the other campuses around the U.S.; usually during the day. If some of the professors were a little more eccentric, no one thought about it. Literally.
Mechanicsburg was a quaint European town. Like Sunnydale, they had their shops and businesses. They had schools and infrastructure. They were mostly middle class, with some wealth and some poverty. The difference being that, where they'd been from, everyone remembered their town. They had a whole tourist industry based on the notoriety of their Lords and Ladies Heterodyne.
Overnight, that particular version of the industry shriveled and disappeared in the haze of magical influence as the towns integrated; including the outlying forests and farms, which had allegiance to the Heterodyne dynasty.
The new river Dyne, swept beneath and through the town, toward the ocean. It appeared to originate from somewhere deep in the earth, to rise and wind into and out of visibility, passing through parts of the outskirts of the town to provide a new source of power (or an old one, depending on one's point of view and the memories that had been adapted to this mashing of realities) via already operating watermills and other implements of river-power.
Castle Summers-Heterodyne started off in the suburbs, but had somehow switched from middle-class suburb to upper-class during the night. This was no handicap. Finding the new castle was easy, as it was set on a mountainous hill that hadn't existed before and the tallest building in the city. Yet, despite that, perhaps the greatest evidence of the change was in the general layout of the city, which at the start was laid out more like the usual square and suburb. The transitioned town had taken on a much quainter aspect of shops in walkable distance from homes. While the supercenters, the mall, the high school and university, and the major square remained in their original places, there were also smaller "squares," nearer the blocks of living space. Wide, lantern-lit sidewalks big enough for three bikers to travel side by side meandered, connecting neighborhoods, smaller schools, parks and the shops, which were suddenly easily accessible without a car; not just gas stations, but mini-grocery and sundry shops, jewelers, clothiers and hat shops, weapons stores and cafes and bars, supply stores for mad and sane inventors. All of these were interspersed with the rest of the town, as if idea of purely commercial block had been considered and then someone sneezed during the planning session.
The warehouses and the seaport, had also expanded, as if Sunnydale had somehow become part of the mainstream of industry. Tall stack-towers puffed out steam, from several factories, but in a totally carbon-friendly way. The airport remained the same, but there were horse and buggy stations to go with the taxis and they all somehow worked together, as if they had always been that way. Bikes, trikes, and sundry other modest modes of steam or non-powered vehicles roved the larger pathways, while pedestrians of various origins, made their way safely to their destinations. There was even a new (or again, old, depending on one's point of view) train station, which cut gently through the northern edge of town and linked to the major lines, which led to the larger cities. The schedules had even updated to include those new routes, and attached to the train station was the bus station, which held local and non-local transit options. That some of the drivers were more toothy than others, seemed to be of little note to the citizens who took advantage of the services.
The hotels and motels and day-inns, in the meantime had experienced an evolution. Where before they barely existed as dangerously uncared for temporary abodes, from which the monsters of Sunnydale snacked on the unaware visitors, they became havens of rest, affordable at the different levels of cash-ability. This was because most of them now had guards with teeth of their own to keep out the riff-raff.
The whole town did. Mechanicsburg, while not necessarily on a Hellmouth, had its own monsters and misfits to care for, feed or hunt down and delete, depending on its friendliness to the Heterodyne rules. From the point of view of the newly arrived people of the town, the Hellmouthian population of creatures were fodder or friend, so long as the abided by those old contracts; mostly fodder.
Many of the locals, vampires especially, would not and did not, preferring the Mayor's demon-friendly rules to the Heterodyne's. This caused some instant dust-ups and clashes. The Jagers found the Hellmouth to be a veritable font of fun and mayhem, the thrill of the hunt was theirs to embrace, and even in the short span of time they were present, it was apparent they were going to continue their traditions with gusto.
This meant, with the advent of the new shared reality, and from a certain point of view, Sunnydale had become one of the greenest, prettiest, most tourist friendly (even if visitors didn't quite remember everything that happened there, though maybe they got some crazy photos from an amazing theme-park filled with very friendly people in fur-suits) cities in the United States. This oddly aligned with the original intent of the Mayor, before he'd become enamored of the darkside and his city had become filled with cemeteries.
Not that those cemeteries or their reason for existing went away. It was simply that the Hellmouth and its powerful siren song, had, with the aid of a chaos god, fallen under new management. Even the U.S. Army Base had become part of the transition, as the base was merged with the military force native to the Heterodyne lands. The official ledgers outside of town were altered to reflect that the area around Sunnydale had essentially become a feudal mini-state, which was somehow still American. No one outside or in town really seemed to notice the difference; after all, those who could vote, did and the newly added population simply seemed to become part of the census.
Meanwhile, all of the signs still said Sunnydale, even if the walls surrounding the town and streets were patrolled by Jagers and a new "local" militia. Also, the city seemed to have a newly composed city council, many of whom owed allegiance not to the Mayor, but to the Heterodynes, Agatha specifically.
-BTVS multi-
The Magic Box, like everything else, had been transformed. It went from the standard box of a store, to a quaint village-rooted shingled building, with an interior that belied its size at first glance. The shop itself had become magic, with the usual mystical items strewn in logical places, but at the same time, there were items floating, spinning, even walking about. Of course, this meant that Mr. Giles sensed a power that had not been present in the store before when he entered. That magical essence shivered along his skin pleasantly, like a fresh wind. He liked it, enough so that he felt compelled to be even more cautious and careful.
"My goodness," was Rupert's exclamation once he fully took in the obvious changes, and he desperately wished for his glasses so he could wipe them down and think. He supposed he could find a pair with faux lenses in them, to complete his usual picture. He had finally, with the help of Willow, managed to squelch the horns away, though he did remain significantly taller than he had been. Not that, given the current atmosphere in the town, anyone would have noticed. Much.
Jenny had been less successful in disguising herself, though that was probably a matter of time. Willow had created an amulet, borrowing, with the surprising help of Buffy, one of the smaller clanks for a beginning and making the necessary adjustments. He had no idea what would be the long term effect upon the clank, but the mystical energy both hid Jenny's current condition and helped suppress the natural, or in her case, supernatural, appetite that accompanied it. Not that she could resist everything. She was in a state of touch, laying hands on the members of her new tribe without thought; only managing not to escalate because of the mystical interference of the token carefully pinned to her outfit.
It was Helen's considered opinion, and they trusted her expertise in such matters, that it would take awhile before Jenny was fully under control for herself and more, that she should not deny her needs too much, as it might feed back. This placed them under a sort of time-table; a fortunately willing one and not just on his part. Jenny, at least, had options, some of which might have been a great surprise in another life. But never let it be said that Slayer stamina was useful for only one thing.
Jenny, like himself, was taken aback by the changes wrought in the store, but she also did not stop and block the door. She trooped in, taking in changes like a tourist, while the original shopkeeper and her new assistant, a toothy looking jager-woman wearing a tall beaked hat, beamed at them in welcome.
Dawn's response to the changes in the magical shop was much less reserved. She squealed in glee, sounding for a moment like her original age, before dragging Andrew deeper into the demesne and disappearing from view behind a counter and wall of arcane tools, wands, staves and sundry crystal balls. "This is awesome!"
It took all Rupert had to refrain from shouting, 'Don't touch anything!' But he managed. He was sure both Andrew and Dawn remembered the hazards. Or rather, he really strongly hoped they did.
"Jenny, will you be …"
"I'll be fine, Rupert. Go on and speak to the lovely shop ladies. I have some browsing to do and I'm sure you will too." She pointed toward a corner that appeared to serve as the book-nook of the store. "Supplies first. Pleasure later."
The way she said, 'pleasure' caused tingles up the spine of anyone who happened to hear her say it. Not that she really noticed, as she sauntered toward her chosen destination. Something had caught her interest quite thoroughly. Her improved eyesight allowed her to observe titles of books at a distance and she thought that they had never graced the store, or their earth, before; A History of Magic, Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed, Enchantment in Baking, An Alchemist's Grimoire of Basic Evocation, The Greater Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Spell-making, A Computer User's Guide to General Magical Interfacing. It went on and on. Despite herself, Jenny, issued a muffled squeak of delight as her inner techno-pagan geeked right out.
After a moment of staring at the technology teacher's backside, his propriety briefly forgotten, Rupert returned to the task at hand. "Ah. Yes. Supplies." He stepped toward the cashier's counter, prepared to charm the latest owner of the store. A part of his mind wondered how long this one would last. Then he glanced at the assistant and realized that it was very possible that the previous problems of ownership may have been quite eradicated. He found himself smiling widely. "Ladies, if I might have your assistance? I have a list."
-BTVS multi-
Strangely, like a nexus of normality, the Harris residence, unlike many of the neighboring houses, had remained fundamentally unchanged; except for the shape of its roof. It remained the same color and contour. Its outer decor was unkempt and discomfiting in appearance. The shrubbery, natural hardy Californian plants, looked bedraggled and forlorn.
A group of people stood on the semi-trim green and brown grass of the front yard, looking at the building.
"Wow, Xan. You know, it's kind of impressive," Willow said. "I could run a guess at reasons, but it could be anything. I mean, you collect mystical doo-dads, when you think we aren't looking, and that alone would warp the weft, if you get my drift." She smiled at Xander to take any sting out of her words, laying a hand on his arm. Behind them was a small van and some muscular minions and sturdy mechanized helpers to do the lifting and the carrying; not that Xander expected to bring much, but Buffy had insisted. Anything he wanted, they would retrieve, because Xander had a new place to live.
It was just, in a previous life, he would have been less obvious about leaving.
"Then there's the stubbornness that is the Harris family trademark, so I was thinking more along the lines of typical, and my collection of the moment isn't that huge." Xander replied. Then he shrugged and sighed a bit. "It's how things are."
Willow nodded, though she was as aware as anyone that there was always more to the "how things are..." that wasn't being said. Just because it was how things are, didn't mean it was the way it should have been.
Jame patted Xander on the back. He was in position to know exactly what Xander's blithe phrase meant. "Let's go do this. It's better to do it quickly."
"Like a band-aid," Xander muttered.
"More like, Mina's already disturbed, young Xander." Jame pointed a thumb at the tall woman. She was eyeing the house as if she could see into it and while her exterior said ice queen, they could all pick up on the sense that she was agitated. Her hair was a vibrant red now and her eyes had taken on a glow. She'd been like that since it was decided that Xander would be moving in with them and she was reminded of what she knew about his home-life.
Well, it was nice to be appreciated.
"Yeah," Xander said. "Let's get this done."
They were met at the door by a tall, burly-going-to-fat, narrow eyed, scruffy man, who was wearing a dirty wifebeater and worn jeans. His feet were bare and he held a beer in one hand. He stood in the doorway, blocking the path and glaring at his son, who had only recently become taller than him. "What do you think you're doing, Boy?"
In the previous life, around this time of year, if his father was awake and feeling belligerent, Xander would have attempted to avoid the confrontation. But now he had years of his life reframed in him, as well as the recent addition of Jame, the diplomat and he had back up. "Well. Dad." The word dad stretched a little across his tongue and he found himself following up, "I'm just here to get my stuff and get out of your hair." He added diplomatically, "I think you will appreciate the extra room in the house." Xander started moving forward, letting his gaze turn stern.
Anthony Harris' hand shot out, flattened against Xander's chest. "What you trying to pull?"
Xander looked down at the hand and then back up at his father. "Getting my belongings and leaving. As previously stated. I should mention it's probably a bad idea to try to stop me."
The man's lip curled. "Oh. It's gonna be that way. Think you can take your old man now? Think you can just walk right in and take my stuff? Think I can't take you?"
It might have made a more impressive moment if some of the words hadn't slurred together. But the elder Harris shoved Xander back, and he did manage the feat, but only because the younger man had learned long ago to let the energy move past him.
What Xander's father could not anticipate was the furious sound of wings, the sight of a flurry of bats storming toward him past his staggering son, or the way he was grabbed up off his feet by a thousand invisible hands and flung out into the yard, to careen up against a haggard tree. The beer bottle dropped onto the ground, forgotten.
He registered a feminine shout of, "Mina!" just as a woman with sharp teeth and red glowing eyes formed. She hefted him like he was a sack of potatoes, shook him hard enough against the tree that his back scraped.
"Mina! Wait." Xander said, as he arrived, stopping after a dead-run. "He's just... being what he's always been."
"A craven lout. A drunken bully," Jame provided. "Were it not that I promised Xander, I'd call you out to duel, sir, pistols at dawn."
"Not helping," Xander groused and then winced as Mina slammed his father against the tree again. "Sure, he may deserve some roughing up, but really, it's a waste of time."
Jame, meanwhile, merely switched to another language, which he knew only his family would understand and continued in his caustic descriptions of the Harris patriarch.
Xander did not bother complaining again, as nothing Jame said was untrue, and there was no way his father knew what was being said; nor did Jame's attitude reveal it much. The man was ever affable, or could at least appear so, which was one of the qualities that they held in common.
The elder Harris, still more full of belligerence and beer than wisdom, pointed and said, "Get out of here. I don't want to see you again."
This time Mina dragged the man forward so he had a very clear view of her very sharp teeth. "It doesn't work that way. Not any more. You are not welcome. You are to be gone. You have the rest of the day and the night. If you are still in this town by this time tomorrow, you will be ended."
"Mina."
This time Mina turned her snarl at them. "No. I won't have it. I won't have this … anywhere near you, near us. I have seen his kind before. He'll make trouble, just to cause it now, because he would think he needs to avenge himself. He needs to go. While I can still let him and he has a chance to forget."
"And Mom?"
"Did she ever stand for you?"
Xander looked back at his house. He had made his peace as he'd gotten older. His parents had left Sunnydale without looking back during the evacuation and he'd never seen them again, but his younger self still felt those ties. "They're human, MIna. She did once, but they lost themselves a long time ago. I lost them, a long time ago."
"Then they are done here." She dropped Xander's father to the ground and shoved him toward his house.
"You can't do this..."
The snarl turned into a full out roar, and the man squeaked, tinkled and fled.
"Remind me to stock up on chocolate, and maybe some blood," Xander said, looking a little pale.
"Chocolate?" Willow said, and she was also quite stunned by the turn of events.
"Yeah. I want to stay on Mina's good side."
"Oh. Good plan."
-BTVS multi-
It felt odd to feel a little bit like a stranger in the home she had been raised in, but Cordelia had several lives under her belt and ages of being an ascended being. Technically, she still was one, and her newest mortal coil had adjusted, utilizing the wild magic of the previous night to blend her young soul to the old, her daemon to the angel, and those odd bits and pieces that had never quite fit, but always had been in her. After all, she had not gotten her costume from Ethan's.
She'd managed to make the tail, although it was quite a bit more than just a tail given her nature and its prehensile capacity, disappear and fold into a pocket space within herself. It was not a singular adjustment, but it was the most obvious; just fortunately easy to hide.
Which was good, because she did not wish to explain to her parents, just yet, the changes that she faced and how her previous life had gone. At least she hadn't sprung six arms; this time. It was hard enough attempting to explain that the house of cards that her parents had so carefully crafted was not so long away from tumbling down. Fortunately, she had back up with her, Buffy, whom her parents knew tangentially as a student, and Andrew, who had the evidence in the form of a stack of spreadsheets and printouts. He even managed took look like an intimidating, if young, suit-of-importance.
He did like to dress for the parts he played.
Her parents were surprisingly polite, smiling and nodding at the right moments, holding drinks of fortification in their hands. They were as she remembered them, before they were incarcerated and they aged a hundred years before her eyes and refused to let her visit after the first six months. She died twice before they even had a chance to be let out. She knew what happened after she left the mortal plane the final time. Her father was tall, dark and handsome in the traditional California way; a kind of Cary Grant-ification to his features and uber-businessman in his personality. Her mother was what they called a natural beauty, also dark haired, though she sometime tried blonde for fun, a social butterfly and hypochondriac. Not so ironically, they were also both brilliant. It was just what they turned their minds to, that was so shallow; money and social standing. Cordelia came from good, if somewhat selfish stock. It did not embarrass her at all. If she could evolve, they could. She loved her parents enough to make the effort.
Buffy was there to play three roles; the support, the Vanna to Andrew's presentation and the heavy, in case. Andrew's presentation took forty-five minutes.
Cordelia's parents went from cordial tan to white-out pale, as the young man laid out their finances, tore down their illusions and broke them against the knowledge of the future. The children who weren't quite children any more didn't just have pictures and charts, they had knowledge and hackers and brutal honesty; Cordelia's specialty, which she wielded with the knife-like skill of a surgeon.
The Scoobies laid down the final words. Cordelia would be moving out as of that second. Her parents could keep on the course they were on or they could liquidate assets soonest, pay off the taxes owed and resulting penalties, which would leave them uncomfortably close to penniless, and move in with her, at her new place. However, it would not be a free ride. They would receive training, have responsibilities and be required to help out; like everyone else. Cordelia deliberately made it sound worse than it would be. She wanted the lesson to stick.
Her parents tried to slide out with, "Now Cordy..." but she didn't even bother to play. She touched them, once, just brushing her hands against theirs, and laid them out with memories of their other life; the bad ones. The ones that she had observed and lived through, but they didn't have to.
She looked down at her twitching parents and said, to Buffy and Andrew, "Let's go. They're going to be a while."
"You don't want to stay?" the slayer asked, laying her palm at the center of Cordelia's back.
"No. They'll still need time to think about it. My parents can be stubborn people."
"So. You come by it honestly, then." Buffy's words were softened by the smile. "We'll have someone watch the house, just in case.
Cordelia leaned into Buffy. "Always have. Okay." Then she glanced at Andrew, who was packing his demonstration supplies away. "Need help, Geek?"
It really was amazing, Buffy thought, how she could make the word sound like an insult, a title and an endearment, all at the same time.
Andrew smiled brightly at Cordelia. "I got it. You know, I wasn't sure how it was going to go, but I think I did alright. Too bad Anya wasn't here. That would have been legendary." And, as if he really was back to being that young man and years of habit got switched off for a few brilliant seconds, he said, wistfully. "You know, I really thought I felt her earlier, when we … you know. I wish she were here with us."
A blinding flash, and a puff of smoke later, a sandy-blonde woman, dressed in the latest student-fashion, upsided the back of Andrew's head with her hand. The fact that his head stayed attached showed how gentle she was. That it stung evidenced the lesson. "Fool! What were you thinking! After all those years, haven't you learned anything useful?"
She didn't have time to threaten to carve spleen or force a wish or any number of possible punishments, because she was tackled by a suddenly giddy slayer. "Anya! Anya! Anya!"
And then the miscreant who called her forth turned, squealed and joined in; followed by the tall, but much more composed, high-school queen.
It was hard to stay mad with hugs like that. Except that there was one thing.
"What the hell did you people do to me?"
