"Morning," Cordelia said casually, walking into Buffy's kitchen.
That should set the right note for this encounter.
Buffy's mom —no, Joyce; thinking of her as Buffy's mom would make this harder— looked up, startled. "Who are you?"
"Cordelia Chase."
"Cordelia," Joyce said, looking uncertain. "I didn't hear the doorbell."
"I slept over," Cordelia said, then smiled brightly. "Buffy's such a saint."
"She is," Joyce said slowly, almost questioningly. "She didn't say anything."
"About me?" Cordelia suggested, smiling inwardly. Everything was going as she'd planned.
"No," Joyce quickly said. "About—"
"What did she say about me?" Cordelia said, to keep her opponent unbalanced. "Nice stuff?"
Joyce stared at Cordelia, clearly struggling for words.
Good. While she was like this, she wouldn't be asking awkward questions, giving Cordelia the perfect chance to spin her story, and it did need spinning.
Cordelia certainly couldn't tell Joyce the whole truth, but if she'd walked into the kitchen unprepared, the way Buffy had been going to, she'd have ended up fumbling for excuses, making Joyce suspicious of them both, and making people suspicious was always a bad idea.
No, any sensible person would have their excuses prepared in advance, as Cordelia had. If they were really good with people, like Cordelia, they'd be able to plan the entire conversation in advance.
Buffy had agreed, of course, once she'd woken up enough to understand what Cordelia was saying, and stopped whining about the time. Seven-forty wasn't that early.
"You're the cheerleader?" Joyce said hesitantly.
Cordelia nodded. "It was a last minute decision."
"Cheerlea—" Joyce said. "Oh."
"So what did she say?" Cordelia asked, switching back to the original topic for extra confusion.
Even when this conversation was over, and Joyce was able to think clearly again, she still wouldn't ask awkward questions, or think about checking Cordelia's story with her family. Instead, she'd be thinking about Cordelia, and what good taste Buffy had in friends, while Cordelia's excuses went unexamined.
Cordelia hadn't told Buffy that though, just given her a vague sketch of the plan and made sure she knew the story. Buffy didn't need to know how good Cordelia was at this.
"Nothing bad," Joyce eventually said.
Cordelia smiled then poured herself a cup of coffee, without asking permission, a display of self-confidence that would help keep Joyce off-balance. It would make a useful prop too.
Somewhere upstairs a door banged, a minute earlier than Cordelia had planned but she could work round that.
"The atmosphere at my house was distinctly unfriendly last night," Cordelia said.
"Family problems?" Joyce said gently.
"It's a long story," Cordelia said, shrugging, then she smiled. "Buffy's been so good about it."
"She has?" Joyce said. "What problems?"
Buffy walked into the kitchen.
"Coffee?" Cordelia suggested, then looked at Joyce. "You know how sweet and kind Buffy is."
Clearly startled, Joyce nodded, as Cordelia had known she would. There might be a few mothers who wouldn't hesitate to criticise their own daughters to their face while their friends watched, but Joyce liked her daughter too much to hurt her that way.
"You're talking about me?" Buffy said, yawning.
"Just telling your mom what a good friend you are," Cordelia said, then looked back at Joyce. "I know she doesn't like to brag about her good deeds."
All technically true yet misleading. Buffy didn't really deserve such compliments, but they'd help keep Joyce from thinking about more sensitive topics.
Buffy smiled unconvincingly. "You don't mind, do you?"
Before Joyce could answer, Cordelia stared into her cup and quietly said, "Private problems."
"No," Joyce said absent-mindedly, "What kind of problems?"
Sipping her coffee, Cordelia thought about all the unpleasant things she'd seen last night; hideous demons, human sacrifice, and the horror buried beneath her house, letting the memories of fear show on her face, then looked straight at Joyce.
Joyce stared at Cordelia, shock giving way to pity.
"I don't want to talk about my mother," Cordelia said, her voice clotted with old pain.
"You can stay here as long as you like," Joyce said, "any time you like."
Cordelia looked back into her cup, careful not to let any trace of her triumph show. Even if Joyce did try asking discreet questions people would just assume she was talking about the episodes. The answers she got would be vague enough that Joyce could read almost anything into them.
"Thanks," Cordelia said, her voice still pained.
"Is there anything else—" Joyce began.
"No," Cordelia said firmly, then half-heartedly pointed at the kitchen door. "You'll want to talk to Buffy."
"I will?" Joyce said, "But—"
Cordelia looked at her.
"Oh," Joyce said. "Are you sure?"
"You may go," Cordelia said, smiling wanly. "I won't mind."
Permission granted, Joyce pulled Buffy out of their kitchen.
Cordelia waited until she was sure they were both gone, then let her smile show. As long as Buffy didn't completely fluff her lines this house was hers, whenever she needed it.
She wouldn't be able to stay here long term though; the rooms were too small, and the furniture belonged on the dump. Joyce, too, would soon become a problem. After a few days she'd inevitably start trying to parent Cordelia, which would be intolerable.
No, a few days a month here would be as much as Cordelia could stand. The rest of the time, she could stay with the other Scoobies, or with Giles, or in a hotel.
Cordelia frowned. All those options had their own problems. Their parents would ask questions, Giles would ask intelligent questions, and her dad would query the credit card bill.
Perhaps she would have to go back home, despite what she'd seen.
Cordelia looked thoughtfully round the kitchen. The deathsight had gone now; all the necromantic residues fouling Buffy's house were invisible, but they were still real, the legacy of some previous owner's experiments.
Naturally, Buffy's house had been the best, least touched by the hellmouth. Xander had had two ghosts in his house, until Margo exorcised them, and at Willow's house Buffy had had to destroy some giant spirit spiders, ugly creatures which, according to Margo, hunted in the dreams of men. Willow and her mom had apparently been safe enough, but it would take years for her dad to recover from his spiritual injuries.
Their houses hadn't been atypical either. Over a third of the houses they'd passed had been similarly infested with dark magic or undead creatures; something Cordelia would have been much happier not knowing.
Now, she knew, and could never forget.
She couldn't run away either. If she let the hellmouth drive her out of town, it would have won.
She could try fighting more, but that was what Margo wanted, and it would make it harder for her to stay popular. She was already spending more time helping Buffy than she could really spare, because of all the crises.
In fact, neither Buffy nor any of her other friends had any time to spare. Ever since Cordelia had made her wish, the demons and monsters had never really stopped coming, leaving them all much too busy to go hunting down creatures that weren't an immediate threat. They'd just have to ignore most of what they'd seen, and learn to live with the knowledge it was there.
Most of what they'd seen, but not all. There was no way she could ignore the thing under her house. She would have to run away, or fight.
Fighting would be difficult, but so would running. She'd end up a refugee in her own town, living off Buffy's friends' charity, waiting for the creature to wake and devour her parents. Worst of all, she'd always know she'd lost, driven out of her own home by some overgrown prehistoric monstrosity.
The creature had to go.
Not right this minute, of course. Going straight home and trying to kill it wouldn't achieve anything, and she might be unlucky enough to wake it.
She'd need to look through Giles's books first, and her own; find some loophole that would let Buffy kill it, preferably without too much property damage. It might take a few days, even a few weeks, but waiting wouldn't be a problem, not when she knew she'd soon be returning home in triumph.
Cordelia smiled into her cup, imagining her victory.
"Enjoy yourself last night," Harmony said, opening her locker, "with all your weird new friends?"
Not good timing. There were too many people on the corridor for sensitive conversations, and Harmony had as much to lose as Cordelia.
Cordelia looked sideways at Harmony, then smiled. "Hypocritical much?"
Harmony was wearing a floor length skirt and one of her dad's shirts, buttoned to the neck, an outfit as out of place on Harmony as skin-tight leather would be on Willow.
She must still be scared of Margo.
"I'm normal," Harmony said, tugging at her collar.
Three of the girls walking past looked at Harmony, and started giggling.
"Strange," Cordelia said. "You don't look normal."
Harmony scowled. "This is your fault."
"How?" Cordelia asked, "I didn't make you wear that thing."
"You let that person do this to me."
"I am not Canute," Cordelia said firmly. She was good with people, but Margo was slightly better, too good to stop, and besides, the way Harmony had been acting lately she didn't deserve Cordelia's help.
Two boys walked past, then looked over their shoulders at Harmony.
"You are Cordelia Chase," Harmony said, "supposedly. You should be protecting your real friends, not hanging with the losers."
"I am," Cordelia said simply, "and I don't."
Harmony smiled. "That's not what they're saying."
Giles walked past the far end of the corridor, then turned, heading towards Cordelia.
"You know better," Cordelia said, "Or have you forgotten Wednesday? The science lesson?"
"None of our business," Harmony said. "You should leave the weird stuff to the weird people, and look after yourself, or your social life will flatline."
It might suffer a little, but that was better than dying, or watching others die, and she'd soon be able to recover any lost status, once the stream of crises slowed. She couldn't tell Harmony that now though, not where anyone might overhear.
Instead Cordelia smiled. "Weird people? Like you?"
Giles nodded amiably as he strolled past Cordelia, his hand gently brushing her open palm, but he didn't stop.
Feeling something feather-light still touching her hand, Cordelia curled her fingers round it.
Paper. Must be a note.
Oblivious, Harmony looked at the passing crowds, then snatched her books from her locker, sending a piece of paper fluttering to the floor.
"I don't have any choice," Harmony whispered sharply. "When I tried dressing normally it felt exposed, like I was in my underwear. I couldn't bring myself to leave the house until I was properly covered, all because of you."
Cordelia thought quickly as she bent down for the paper. Demons didn't care about modesty, but Margo did, enough to make Harmony promise to dress like a nun. She must have found someway to enforce that promise.
Understandable, Harmony had been especially irritating since the morgue, but excessive. OK, so she'd insulted Cordelia and Buffy. That only deserved a few days humiliation, not a lifetime.
Cordelia snatched up the paper, cream-coloured and covered in elegant calligraphy. Persuading Margo to back down would be difficult, even for Cordelia. Better to wait until she was gone, then let Giles cure Harmony. Waiting wouldn't hurt Harmony, much. A few days as a laughingstock might even do her some good.
"Dame Margo can be a little zealous," Cordelia said. "Wait a few days and I'll put it right."
"If you weren't wasting time on the weirdness, nothing would have gone wrong."
All completely false, but a denial wouldn't get Cordelia anywhere. She glanced at the passing crowds, then decided to change the subject. She could always deal with Harmony's strange ideas later.
"Practising your handwriting?" Cordelia said, looking at the calligraphy. The letters were beautiful, but they were also in alphabetical order; a few dozen a's, several b's, slightly more c's.
Cordelia frowned and skimmed the rest of the sheet. There were lots of e's and t's but no q's or z's, and only one j, a familiar-feeling distribution of letters quite unlike what Cordelia would have expected from handwriting exercises, which Harmony was unlikely to keep in her locker anyway.
"I don't need to practice," Harmony said, snatching the sheet from Cordelia, then she glanced at it, and her face filled with surprise.
For a few seconds Harmony stood there, looking closely at the sheet, almost as if she were reading it, then she smiled.
"Good news?" Cordelia said speculatively. A coded message was the most obvious explanation of Harmony's reaction, though how she could have managed to read it Cordelia had no idea.
"Slow reader?" Harmony said, smiling more broadly. "I'm not going to waste any more time on you. I've got lessons to go to."
Then she swiftly turned round and strode down the corridor, heading away from her next class.
Odd, but it was only Harmony. Cordelia had more important problems. She unfolded the note Giles had slipped her, and quickly read it.
"Science lab — ceiling. Five minutes. Co-ordination. Important."
Short notice, but if Giles said it was important it must be, and she wouldn't be missing much.
Three minutes later, Cordelia stepped into the new science lab and looked around.
All the wreckage from their fight with the witch had been cleared away, leaving only a few burnt patches on the floor, but the replacement furniture hadn't arrived yet, so there was only one place Giles could be hiding.
"Expecting me?" Cordelia said, carefully peering behind the door.
Looking relieved, Giles nodded, then swiftly closed the door and locked it.
Cordelia frowned. There was a lump of clay stuck on the wall behind the door, with a few feathers in it, much like the ward things Margo kept using to guarantee her privacy.
Cordelia pointed silently at the lump. "Who are we hiding from? Her?"
"No names, and yes," Giles said, confirming Cordelia's guess without her needing to ask any explicit questions.
"She's planning to come here," Cordelia said, drawing the obvious conclusion from the ward's presence.
"Apparently, but it won't be soon," Giles said, answering Cordelia's implicit question. "I left her talking to Willow and Xander. We should be safe from all eavesdropping, provided we avoid attracting her attention."
"Could be an interesting conversation," Cordelia said warily, thinking of what could go wrong.
Giles smiled. "She doesn't have the right keys."
"How good is she at picking locks?"
"What would work on one would set off the other's alarms. If we left them together for hours, perhaps, but fifteen minutes should be safe."
"It should," Cordelia said grudgingly, though she'd need to talk to them later, make sure they hadn't been manoeuvred into any rash promises. "You know what happened to Harmony?"
"Yesterday?" Giles said, sounding mildly curious "I don't believe they've met today."
"She's made Harmony keep her promise. If she doesn't, she feels undressed."
"What?" Giles snapped. "That's against all our principles. Any attempt to control the mind of another is grounds for instant termination."
Giles paused, thoughtfully nudging his glasses. "She'll probably claim Harmony did it to herself, but she didn't know her promise would bind her. Our friend might not think much to that, she's always believed in the importance of keeping one's word, but the council will see matters differently."
Then Giles scowled. "Would have seen. I'll have to appeal to the board, and Sunday might be a complication. If they move too slowly I'll find some way to release Harmony myself."
About what Cordelia had expected. Harmony would have an uncomfortable few days, just as she deserved, and no more.
Cordelia couldn't say that though, her stoicism would be too easy to misinterpret, but she needed to say something, or Giles would waste time being sympathetic about Harmony's predicament.
"OK," Cordelia said, with her best world-weary shrug, letting him know it was safe to change the subject without being accused of callousness.
Giles glanced at his watch. "We need to talk about the zoo."
"What about it? Xander can't get possessed now, none of us can, so no problem."
"So I initially thought," Giles said, which meant it wasn't true.
Cordelia suppressed a scowl. They'd only had one piece of good news last night, and now it seemed even that had a catch, but what? Any demon that saw her memories of nightmare would flee from her head.
After a few seconds thought, Cordelia spotted the loophole. They'd flee, if they could, and only if they saw her memories.
"Many potential possessors would be unable to leave at will, including the hyena spirits," Giles said, confirming Cordelia's conclusions, "and—"
"Many others wouldn't be able to see our memories," Cordelia said. "Amy's mom couldn't."
If she been able to, she'd have done better at imitating Amy.
Giles nodded. "Unfortunately, the hyena spirits can, and they lack your resilience. Faced with the memories you bear, but unable to escape, they would succumb to madness, leaving you with an insane hyena trapped within your mind. The consequences are unlikely to be pleasant."
Cordelia nodded. "Then we'll stick to the original plan."
"We need to make allowances for our visitor," Giles said. "Or we could simply tell her what we know."
"Do you want to?" Cordelia asked, marshalling her arguments for secrecy.
"No," Giles said, "but if she discovers we are concealing this from her she will not be pleased. Are you sure you want to take that risk?"
So Giles was testing her commitment, a sensible precaution. If Cordelia buckled under Margo's covert interrogation Giles might die.
"Yes," Cordelia said, with all the conviction she could muster. "If she finds out, she'll want to take over."
Margo herself might be dead in a few days, but her plans would not die with her, not when she had devoted followers like the Bodsworths. If Margo found out this secret, her followers would be blackmailing Cordelia forever, trying to force her to do things Margo's way.
Giles frowned. "Might not that be for the best? Anything I can do—"
"She can't do better." Cordelia said. "She's forgotten how to deal with normal people."
Giles smiled. "I understand they are rather rare in her circles."
"They aren't in my circle," Cordelia said. "We're all normal people," compared with Margo, anyway.
"So you think she would not use your insights well?" Giles asked, a leading question, but then Giles was trying to convince her she needed to keep her foreknowledge secret, proof of his own commitment.
Cordelia nodded. "Tell her everything, and she'll want to dictate the course of your romance, and mine. She'll leave her followers instructions to interfere."
With a motive that strong Giles wouldn't be able to doubt her sincerity.
"No unnecessary details please," Giles reminded her, then frowned. "It is nearly a century since she went courting, and she didn't get her man. I suspect her advice would not help us."
"It wouldn't," Cordelia said firmly. "You've got all the esoteric knowledge we need, and I know the people involved. We don't need anyone else."
"Indeed not," Giles said, sounding satisfied. "In that case, we need to make sure our stories cohere. If there are discrepancies, or if we seem too lucky, she will be on us."
"What do you suggest?" Cordelia said, ceding priority to Giles. Normally, she'd have preferred to go first, making it easier to get her plans adopted, but listening to Giles explain his plans would be a good opportunity to spot his real motives for secrecy, knowing which would make it easier to manipulate him in future.
"First," Giles began, "You should ..."
"You're having lunch with them again?" Aura said, scowling at Xander and the others.
"Jealous?" Cordelia suggested.
Aura looked briefly calculating. "You do know what Harmony's saying?"
Cordelia smiled. "Remember last year? The watch?"
Xander started to speak, but Buffy nudged him into silence.
"I should never have believed her," Aura said, half smiling, then frowned, "but she's changed."
"So, of course, now you believe her," Cordelia said scornfully
"I—" Aura began, then looked at Buffy, "haven't decided yet."
Cordelia looked sternly at Aura. "Harmony is wrong."
Aura stepped back. "Got to go."
Cordelia watched as Aura scurried down the corridor, thinking. If Aura was willing to expose herself like that Harmony's whispering campaign must be working; not good. She'd have to spend some time with them soon, reassure them that she hadn't gone weird.
"What is Harmony saying?" Willow asked, smiling faintly as the group began walking to the library.
"Nothing important," Cordelia said, then looked at the folder Willow was carrying. "More homework for Margo?"
Willow had already given Margo one folder full of papers that morning, explaining how outdated her ideas of proper diet were, surprisingly brave of her. If Margo spotted any errors in Willow's reasoning, Willow would be in deep trouble, and Margo was more than clever enough to do exactly that.
"Newspaper cuttings," Willow said, "about your house, and what was there before."
"A big mansion," Cordelia said, remembering some old photos, "covered the whole block."
Willow nodded. "Burnt to the ground ninety years ago, no survivors. They started building your house the next day."
Suspiciously fast. Someone must have known what lay beneath, someone who should now be long dead, but the spell they had used during her house's construction, Cordelia had seen used last night, raising unpleasant possibilities.
Willow hesitated outside the library doors. "The paper doesn't say what started the fire, but it doesn't sound like an accident."
Buffy shrugged. "Someone trying to kill the creature."
"Or stop it from escaping," Willow said. "There are hints they knew something bad was active there, strong hints."
"Don't worry about it," Xander said gently. "You'll never have to sleep there again. Our houses are yours."
Buffy twitched. "Until we kill the creature. Then you can go home."
"Me? Worry?" Cordelia said lightly, then looked at Willow. "Would squid fit with your dietary advice?"
Willow smiled. "It might."
"Shall we see?" Cordelia said, pushing open the door.
Ten minutes later Cordelia looked at her plate, piled high with pasta, and frowned. This was not an improvement.
"Hasta Augustissima," Margo said, "are you sure you wish to burden yourself with this dark knowledge?"
Buffy nodded. "She's my friend."
Margo glanced at Giles. "May I presume you would tell her no matter what strictures I laid upon you, Mr Giles?"
"I will, Dame Margo," Giles said, "if my will remains free. Does not my duty to my slayer outweigh all other considerations?"
"All save the oaths, Mr Giles," Margo said, then smiled. "If she must hear this, better that she hear it firsthand. Mistress Willow, would you tell Mr Giles what you have learned of the site of Mistress Cordelia's home?"
Willow quickly swallowed. "Her house was built ninety years ago, on the site of the Delapoor mansion, dame. That—"
"Delapoor?" Giles said, letting his fork drop. "Are you sure?"
Willow nodded.
"Mistress Willow," Margo said, the faintest traces of concern in her voice, "did you find any record of suspicious incidents near that house?"
"Nothing explicit, dame, but people knew something was wrong there. I'm not sure if this is linked but, the day before the fire, an entire family living nearby disappeared. The paper implied that had happened before, near there, and—"
"Evidence enough," Margo said, then looked at Giles. "It would seem the council was remiss in its duty, Mr Giles."
"Indeed, it does, Dame Margo," Giles said, "when you were among its rising stars."
Cordelia groaned inwardly. Back to the watcher politics, again.
"I was still young in those days, Mr Giles," Margo said. "Responsibility for this failure can only lie with the then head of the council, the late Mr Creswick, for whom I never much cared."
Xander and Willow both looked at Cordelia, but she discreetly shook her head. She'd intervened in the last argument. It was Xander's turn now.
Giles smiled. "How embarrassing for the High Purples, Dame Margo, and for the Eagles."
Xander looked at Buffy, who frowned faintly, then he half-nodded in acknowledgement.
Margo nodded smugly. "It supplies further confirmation of the needs we discussed, Mr Giles."
"I wouldn't go quite that far," Giles said quickly. "Dame Margo."
"Subtitles please, Giles," Xander said, smiling. "Who's this Delapoor?"
"A child-torturing demon-worshipping mass-murdering rapist and cannibal. All that family were," Giles said, scowling. "And those are just the crimes we can be certain of. Each Delapoor also had their own individual vices—"
"Which are not entirely suitable for discussion whilst eating, Mr Giles," Margo said, looking at Buffy.
"Perhaps not in detail, Dame Margo," Giles said, clearly annoyed at the interruption.
"Only the cannibalism matters, Mr Giles. That was the central sacrament of their family cult; everything else, mere indulgance of their twisted lusts."
Then why weren't there any ghosts? Violent deaths meant ghosts, everyone knew that, but she hadn't seen any there last night. Either the creature must be freer than Margo had implied, free enough to eat the ghosts, or someone had exorcised them all, most likely the person who had decided to build Cordelia's house there.
"Anyway," Giles said, "when the council discovered the extent of their evil, we destroyed their castle and executed all the Delapoors we could find."
"All of them?" Willow said. "What about the children."
"All of them," Giles said flatly, "We did try fostering the youngest child. At the first opportunity she flayed the family dog alive, raised its corpse as a zombie, and, um, performed unnatural acts with it."
Buffy put down her fork. "A child did that? You mean a teenager, right?"
"Jane de la Poer," Margo said, clearly enunciating the spaces, "was only four years old."
"Four, dame?" Cordelia said. A child that age wanting to kill wasn't surprising, they were too young to understand that other people sometimes mattered, but where had she found the physical strength and magical power?
"There were no innocents in Anchester Castle, Mistress Cordelia."
Cordelia smiled. "No servants, dame?"
"There were slaves," Margo said. "For them, death was a mercy."
"They must have been like that a long time if all the family were bad," Willow said thoughtfully, "at least three generations."
"Longer," Giles said. "The rumours started not long after Gilbert de la Poer was ennobled, over three hundred years before the council acted."
"Nor were they new to vice then," Margo said. "It was not for his skill at arms that King Stephen knighted Henry de la Poer a century earlier. The name itself can not be traced back beyond that date, but evidence found in their castle suggested the family cult was already millennia old."
"Why didn't you catch them earlier, dame?" Willow said, twirling her fork in the pasta.
"We erred, Mistress Willow," Margo admitted. "We thought they were a purely human evil. As such, they would be outside our jurisdiction. Were we to arrogate to ourselves power to judge the crimes of men against men we would surely soon become sorcerous tyrants, imposing our cruel whims on all mankind with the force of natural law."
That made some sense, let Margo loose and she'd probably make short skirts illegal, enforcing her whim with magic as she had on Harmony, but human lives were more important than principles. The watchers should have tried to stop the Delapoors earlier, even if they didn't know the family was using black magic.
"We were naive," Margo said. "In those days the council thought no human could stoop so low. We were wrong, terribly wrong."
"Once we realised there might be more than to the rumours than peasant grumbling we sent in the slayer to investigate," Giles said, then looked at Margo. "Dame Margo, I must confess to some curiousity as to why the board, with all its much vaunted wisdom, did not act sooner."
Margo glared at Giles, who looked down at his plate. "Mr Giles, the board was aware of the possibility, but it can not watch every sparrow fall. We battle with the greater evils of this world. The lesser, it is the council's responsibility to find, and to fight."
"Lesser evils, Dame Margo?" Giles said. "You consider atrocities—"
"Mr Giles, the gate of ivory is assailed by the nameless," Margo said. "Already, the dreams that enter through it are tainted. Should it succeed, it would be able to consume the souls of all mankind in a single night of terror. The shadow of the lord of fetters ever gnaws at this world, a taint on all matter condemning it to a spiral of decay, ending in the utter ruination of all things temporal, and with each little victory that dread lord grows stronger; the day of his return, nearer. Midnight Walking — but, were I to name all the greater evils that trouble this benighted world, each incomparably more vile than ever the de la Poers were, we would still be here come nightfall. Suffice it to say, you should not mistake your small part of the battle for the whole, nor think the slayer stands alone."
She might as well, for all the difference it made. Other than sending Giles and Margo, who was almost as much hindrance as help, the council had done nothing useful. Cordelia had done more, thanks to her wish.
"Dame Margo," Giles said, "I was unaware of the threats you cited; possibly because the board neglected to inform the council of their existence. No doubt, they had what they considered adequate reason, which leaves me to wonder why you have seen fit to contravene the collective wisdom of the board."
Cordelia sighed, then looked at Willow who nodded, acknowledging her turn.
"Mr Giles," Margo said with false sweetness. "I, at least, would never be so foolish as to question the wisdom of the board. Nonetheless, I am, like all of us, free to act as I deem fit, within the bounds of my oaths, and the breaking of the council has ended many certainties. If you persist in your rejection of my counsel, these four will need this warning of the greater evils they may face, and the comfort of knowing they are not alone. If you doubt their worthiness to carry that burden, do tell us why. I'm sure we'll all be fascinated to learn your analysis of the putative deficiencies of these four."
Ominous words. If Margo thought they needed to know about those evils, it must be because she was planning to pit Cordelia, and the others, against them.
"There are a lot, dame," Willow said, rescuing Giles. "Are they working for Omega, or just for themselves?"
Cordelia smiled at Xander. They should have known better than to give Willow an excuse to start asking questions.
"Omega is the last word in evil, Mistress Willow," Margo said. "Whether wittingly or unwittingly, all the evils of which we know serve it."
"So the Delapoor house was built by escapees from Anchester, dame," Cordelia quickly surmised, before Willow and the watchers could go down another tangent. "Is that why there's a monster under my house? Some pet of theirs?"
"People do not keep gods as pets, Mistress Cordelia," Margo said, "and that creature is of godly rank. It will be a manifestation of whatever vile entity the de la Poers worshipped, not the entity itself, as such, but an incarnation of it."
"Whatever?" Giles said, smiling. "Do you not know, Dame Margo?"
"Unfortunately, Mr Giles, there are many entities which make similar demands of their worshippers. Even you could name three, and I know of several others." Margo said, then shrugged. "We may be able to narrow the field further, now that we know of the de la Poer house but, in truth, its name scarcely matters. The same cleansing procedures must be employed whether it is the swallower of stars or Pkhrxng Fshlfn Dhlkbch, to name but two possibilities."
"What procedures?" Cordelia said, leaning forwards.
"First," Margo said, "we will need to remove all the bones from beneath the site, and rebury them in holy ground. That should break the entity's link with the site. Mistress Willow, for how long did the de la Poer house stand? How many de la Poers lived there?"
"Twenty, dame, and the house was two hundred years old. What bones?"
"The lower caves beneath Anchester castle were filled with a sea of bones, over a hundred foot deep and stretching for miles. We can anticipate the de la Poers will have accumulated a similar, though somewhat smaller, collection here."
Margo paused, then looked gently at Cordelia. "There may well be as many as three hundred thousand skeletons beneath your house, and its neighbours."
An entire townful of people, slaughtered by the Delapores, and they would not have died peacefully. Her house was built on a charnel pit, the site of atrocities such as she had only seen in nightmares.
But thinking about all those people, dying in agony, wouldn't help anyone. They weren't any threat to her, they'd not bothered her once in seventeen years, and she couldn't help them. Best to ignore them, and concentrate on the real threat, the horror living underneath her house.
"That's over four a day," Willow protested. "It'd take a town of seventeen thousand to sustain that, minimum. Any less, and people wouldn't be born fast enough to replace the losses. Sunnydale wasn't big enough, back then."
"Five hundred," Margo said, her voice filling with cold fury. "The de la Poers farmed men as men farm cattle, breeding them for the table and for torture. Generation after generation lived and died in the caves beneath Anchester castle, never knowing sunlight. Into pain they were born, their feet amputed within minutes of their birth, forcing them to go on all fours, like the beasts of the field; in pain they lived—"
Margo glanced at Buffy.
"—their every waking breath a torment; and in pain they died, victims of the most vile tortures the de la Poers could imagine."
Buffy stared at Margo, horrorstruck.
"And, like any good farmer, the de la Poers paid careful attention to productivity. They fed the women certain drugs that shorten childhood, and encourage multiple births; first pregancy at ten, quintuplets every year thereafter," Margo said. "With five hundred people imprisoned beneath the de la Poer house, they would never have needed to look outside their own cellars for victims, but they would have anyway, kidnapping townsfolk for special feasts and to supply fresh blood."
"You c-c-c—" Xander stammered through a mouthful of pasta, then scowled briefly at Margo.
Margo looked straight at Willow, a faint rainbow glimmer dancing over her hate-contorted face. "Are you sure there were no survivors? Maybe someone who had married out of the family?"
"Every Delapoor in Sunnydale died, dame" Willow said, smiling. "I can check the genealogical records, make sure none of them escaped."
"Do that, Mistress Willow," Margo said, fists clenched. "If any of them did escape, if any remnant of that family survives, they shall be destroyed."
"OK, you can do that to people," Xander corrected himself, "but you shouldn't. It's wrong."
Willow nodded. "They were worse than vampires."
Cordelia sipped her water, trying to decide what this news meant for her.
"That's debatable," Margo said, looking slightly calmer. "They were more organised, and technically human, but they did not kill quite so many people. Where a typical vampire averages one kill every three nights, each de la Poer averaged one every five nights. Should any of the greater evils triumph, people would die by the million, if they were lucky."
"A rather misleading statistic, Dame Margo," Giles said. "The typical vampire is dead within a year."
"This isn't about numbers," Xander said angrily. "Treating people like that is wrong."
Willow looked hesitantly at Margo. "Were the Delapoors unique, dame? Farming is a lot more reliable than hunting, and it must be harder for the council to spot. There wouldn't be an anomalously high death rate, though you might be able to track them by their food bill, unless they used a supermarket, or similar, to hide the high food consumption."
"Well reasoned, Mistress Willow," Margo said. "The last case uncovered was about a year ago, under a supermarket near Boston. Its true owners were vespoid demons, who needed a constant supply of live humans to host their larvae."
Something to ask Faith about, if she ever turned up, but not important right now.
"Could we talk about something else, dame?" Cordelia said. "We are eating."
Willow looked at Buffy, who was still pale with shock, and smiled. "Sounds like Cordelia won't have to stay with you much longer. Once the bones are gone she'll be able to go home."
"No," Margo said. "The second stage will be to demolish those houses, and scour the pits beneath them with holy flame. After that, we'll divert a river over the site, or possibly let the sea flood it. Naturally, the board will make every reasonable effort to provide Mistress Cordelia with alternative accomodation."
Cordelia winced. Owing her home to people like Margo would not be pleasant. She'd have to find her own alternatives, and fast.
Willow twiddled her fork. "That'll do a lot of damage to the rest of the town, dame. Couldn't you just put a lake there?"
"Still waters would grow stagnant," Margo said, "and in their stygian depths would brew foulness. Besides, the board is giving serious consideration to the possibility of flooding all Sunnydale, once its human inhabitants have been persuaded to leave."
"Know how to swim?" Xander said, smiling at Buffy. "I could teach you."
Buffy stared at him. "How can you joke about that? How can you all take this so calmly? You were the same Wednesday, laughing at those visions we saw, and Cordy was very cheerful this morning."
Margo looked at Giles. "Haven't you told her yet, Mr Giles? This, she does need to know."
"I'm afraid not, Dame Margo," Giles admitted. "I couldn't, since I was never informed of this."
"Mr Giles, it should have been obvious the moment you learned this to be an hellmouth," Margo said, then looked at Xander. "Mr Alexander, there was a boy called Peter in your class in elementary school. Do you recall what happened to him?"
"Something bad?" Xander guessed.
"How do you know," Willow said, "dame?"
"The board vetted you quite thoroughly," Margo said. "Try to remember. You were nearly seven."
Cordelia frowned, trying to place the name.
"He poked his own eyes out with a pencil?" Willow said, hesitantly.
"No," Cordelia said, her memory sparked. "Sarah did that. Peter jumped out the window, without opening it."
"That was Tim," Xander said. "He had scars. I think Peter just stopped talking. Didn't he end up in a mental hospital?"
"I think so," Willow said. "But I'm it was a boy who poked his eyes out, not Sarah. She got in the kitchens, sliced herself open with a carving knife."
"That was Sarah Hooper," Cordelia said, "Or maybe Jessica. I was thinking about Sarah Fowler. She had red hair, remember?"
"Jessica cut off one of Kevin's fingers," Xander said. "His parents left town soon after. Sarah Fowler pounded a pencil into her own heart. There was blood everywhere. I think she got the hammer from Mike, or was it Dave? Which was the tall one?"
Giles looked thoughtfully at Cordelia, and the others.
"I heard it wasn't Kevin's finger she cut off," Willow said. "The hammer was Mike's. He thought there were monsters living in the walls, so he wanted to demolish them. Dave was the one who liked setting things on fire."
Willow paused, frowning. "That was a bad year."
"Bad?" Buffy said. "Three suicides in a year? That's —"
"Four suicides, Buffy," Margo said, "in their class alone. Fowler did not just blind herself; she pushed that pencil through her eyes, into her brain."
Cordelia nodded. "Harmony pulled the pencil out, afterwards. They gave her a week off school, to get over the shock."
"The rest of us only got a day," Xander said, scooping up another forkful of pasta, then he looked at Margo. "I do-, didn't remember it being that bad, dame."
Cordelia hadn't either, until Margo had reminded them, but it was a long time ago.
"How could you forget?" Buffy said.
"They were only six," Margo replied. "Few people can remember much from that age."
"I'd remember if someone killed themselves in front of me," Buffy insisted.
"You might think so," Margo said, "but you might also think people would remember vampires."
"You implied this was because of the hellmouth, dame," Willow said. "Is that why we forgot."
"Indirectly, Mistress Willow. There are many contributing factors."
"Dame Margo," Giles said, looking at Buffy, "a concise explanation would not be unwelcome."
"Very well, Mr Giles," Margo said. "Living on the hellmouth involves a degree of mental stress somewhat greater than people normally encounter, due partly to suppressed memories of encounters with the dark, partly to a subliminal awareness of the lurking horrors, and partly to the pyschic pressure exerted by the aura of the hellmouth itself. The effects of this stress are most obvious on those born here, since those of equal age have had comparable exposure. Mr Alexander, can you name any of those effects?"
"Madness, dame?" Xander guessed.
Cordelia leaned forwards, hoping she wouldn't be Margo's next target. She'd done this a few times yesterday, asking surprise questions, officially so she could check how well Giles had taught them.
"Correct," Margo said, smiling approvingly. "Prolonged stress is harmful to the psyche. It can drive people to suicide, or twist their thoughts into madness, if their mental defences are insufficient. Mistress Cordelia, what would you consider the most effective defences against such stress?"
"Meditation?" Cordelia guessed, "and a good sense of humour, dame?"
"Correct," Margo said approvingly, "though effective meditation requires training, such as Mr Giles should be able to provide. Now, of those born of the hellmouth, about half either naturally possess or learn mental defences sufficient to withstand the stresses the hellmouth exerts. The rest slowly crumple under that pressure until, after five or six years, their sanity fails. Anyone who can endure seven years here should be able to endure the hellmouth indefinitely. Mistress Willow, what does this mean for Buffy?"
"She'll have to persuade her mother to leave town before too long, dame," Willow said, giving Buffy a concerned look. "Buffy's the slayer, so she should be immune, but her mother may be vulnerable."
Buffy stared, her face halfway between anger and fear.
"Partially correct," Margo said. "The slayer has no innate protection from magical or psychic assualt, only such defences as her watcher's training of her may provide."
Then it was lucky Buffy had kept spending her summers outside Sunnydale. That should give her enough respite to prevent madness.
Smiling, Xander whispered something in Buffy's ear, and she relaxed, slightly.
"Dame?" Willow said, "Are you sure about that half? Only a third of our class were affected."
"That you know of, Mistress Willow," Margo said. "A sixth are driven to suicide; a sixth show overt symptons of significant mental illness, most commonly catatonia or paranoia; and a sixth survive by silencing their conscience. If you have no compassion for your fellow man, the hellmouth is somewhat easier to live with."
So one-sixth of her classmates had no conscience left; not entirely surprising when two of them had tried to kill her, in the original history. Presumably, most of that sixth would just become lawyers or politicians, but there were probably another four or five potential killers out there, in her year alone.
However, since none of them were going to try anything for at least a year, they could safely be ignored for now.
"I'll teach you some meditation techniques," Giles said, looking at Buffy, "and find some way to get your mother out of town."
"Why didn't you tell Giles about this, dame?" Xander asked, unwisely. Margo could easily turn that question against Giles, making it sound like he was so incompetent he needed someone giving him instructions every second of the day.
Even if he managed to make her admit this was an exception, which it was, Margo would just pass the blame downwards, to Travers. He'd been Giles's boss, before his coup attempt, and he was in deep disfavour now, making it easy to blame him, hard to argue for his innocence.
"I'm sure Dame Margo has her reasons," Giles said quickly, then smiled. "This means you three are immune to madness."
"Not quite, Mr Giles," Margo said. "They have developed a degree of mental resilience somewhat in excess of the norm, but their encounter with the whisperer in darkness will have tested that resilience to its limits. Severe personal tragedies would do likewise, as would certain other possibilities. Still, for the most part you are not mistaken. These three, and many others in this town, can face with blithe insouciance horrors that would shatter the minds of most."
Xander smiled at Buffy. "See, being born here isn't all bad."
"Aren't you going, Mr Giles," Margo said, ten minutes later.
"I wasn't aware of any need for my presence." Giles replied.
"Your slayer may need your advice, Mr Giles,"
"In a zoo, Dame Margo?"
"This is a hellmouth, Mr Giles," Margo said. "You should always be anticipating trouble."
"A sound principle, Dame Margo," Giles conceded, unsurprisingly. Going to the zoo would give him more chances to make himself look good over the hyenas.
He hadn't actually discussed that option with Cordelia, all their plans had been based on the assumption Giles would be staying in the library today, but she was flexible. Having Giles around the zoo wouldn't give her any problems.
"You can't follow me everywhere," Buffy said.
"Not everywhere," Margo said. "While you stay on familiar ground it can reasonably be assumed that you are fully aware of the dangers you might encounter. It is only when you venture onto unfamiliar ground, as you will be doing this afternoon, that you are liable to have need of Mr Giles's advice."
"Librarians do not normally go on school trips, Dame Margo," Giles said, "but I will see what can be done."
"The trip is short one adult," Mr Bodsworth said as he picked up Buffy's plate. "It seems Robinson called in sick today, after recieving an unexpected cheque in the post."
Buffy scowled.
"You going too, dame?" Xander said.
"My security requirements would be too onerous, Mr Alexander," Margo said. "If Mr Giles should need my advice, he will be able to phone me."
"How, dame?" Xander said. "He'll be outside."
"Modern technology is not without its uses," Margo said. "Mr Bodsworth has purchased two mobiles for that purpose."
It seemed Margo had been busy planning too, which suggested she had ulterior motives for getting Giles away from the library.
Margo smiled at Xander. "I will need someone to answer the phone for me, lest my voice be recorded. You should do."
"Me?" Xander gasped. "You want me to spend the afternoon here, with you, dame?"
"You've got aides for that," Willow said, "dame. Use them."
Cordelia nodded. Leave Xander alone with Margo for the afternoon, and she might trick him into almost anything.
"My aides will have other duties to perform," Margo said.
"So I imagine, dame," Cordelia said dryly. "Why Xander? Why not Willow? She likes libraries."
More importantly, she was harder to outwit than Xander and she just might be able to divert Margo into a harmless discussion of esoterica. Of course, Cordelia herself would be the best at handling Margo, but volunteering herself would look odd. Besides, if she stayed here she wouldn't be able to take care of the hyenas.
"Precisely, Mistress Cordelia," Margo said. "Of you three she has the least to gain. Mr Alexander has the most, being the least academic amongst you."
"You're going to make me read these old books?" Xander said, frowning. "Will there be a test, dame?"
"I do not compel," Margo said. "I merely advise. You are not the slayer. You cannot walk her path. Set the bright-burning fires of your mind against the dark, not your strength at arms alone."
Fine advice for people like Willow, and Margo herself, but not everyone was like them. Cordelia was smart enough to take that approach, if she really needed to, but Xander would be better off playing to his own strengths.
"You think me memorising these books will help Buffy?" Xander said. "We've got Giles for that, dame."
"You do not carry him in your pocket, Mr Alexander, nor does he sit upon your shoulder," Margo said. "You have helped Giles with his researches, haven't you."
"I've helped him look stuff up," Xander said warily, "but that's different. I knew what I was looking for, and we needed to find it fast."
"You will not always have the advantage of knowing what you need to learn," Margo said. "There will be times when remembering some obscure footnote from one of these books would save Buffy's life, and yours, but I cannot tell you in advance what books those might be. I can only suggest that you would be well advised to develop an appetite for learning."
Memorising the entire library in the hope that one paragraph might someday prove useful didn't sound very sensible to Cordelia, but Giles and Willow both seemed to approve. If she objected they'd both instinctively take Margo's side, leaving Cordelia in an awkward position.
"They're boring," Xander said. "I'll fall asleep, dame."
"If so, Mr Alexander, the fault lies with you, not with them. I may be able to remedy that."
"You can't make Xander stay," Buffy protested. "He doesn't want to."
"Do you think so little of him?" Margo said. "Young children put what they want above all else. Mr Alexander is not a child."
"So I should do what you want instead, dame?" Xander said, smiling.
"No, Mr Alexander," Margo said. "You should do what you judge to be for the best. If that is to charge blindly into the face of the enemy, flags flying, I can and will pledge to you the board's unconditional support. We will back you to the hilt, for so long as you shall live, and when you die, in glorious battle, we shall honour your name whilesoever men draw breath, though the stars grow cold. However, we would prefer it if you did not die young. I am advising you accordingly."
Strong words, especially since Margo believed in keeping promises.
"I'd prefer that too," Xander said. "But staying here won't help anyone, dame."
"You are mistaken, Mr Alexander," Margo said. "Need I remind you of the benefits of ..."
Not needing any reminder, Cordelia tuned out Margo's latest peroration, instead trying to work out how best to proceed.
She could back Xander up, which would help her image and, if she succeeded, keep him at a safe distance from Margo, but she might not succeed. Margo was a challenging opponent, and she felt strongly about her position, which always made the fight harder. Even with Cordelia's superlative social skills, winning this argument would be difficult.
Was it worth the effort?
Margo's intentions were clear now — spend the afternoon talking about carefully selected books with Xander, subtly nudging him into thinking more like a watcher, more like herself — but it wouldn't work, which meant it would be safe to leave Xander alone with her, and well away from the hyenas.
Support Xander, and all she'd gain would be a minor boost to her image, at the cost of endangering him, and annoying Margo.
Stay neutral, and everyone would be against her.
Support Margo, and she'd ensure Xander was safe, at no real cost to herself. Her image might be slightly bruised, but she could easily finesse that.
"... never experience that sublime moment," Margo was saying, her eyes dreamy, "when the veils of confusion melt away and the obscure becomes obvious; when all mysteries are laid bare, and sense found in what seemed senseless; when order crystallises out of chaos, and the truth becomes manifest; when you comprehend the universe entire, see to the very heart of being—"
For a moment Margo paused, a blissful smile on her lips.
Giles and Willow shared near identical embarrassed smiles of recognition.
Margo looked sorrowfully at Xander. "—then I grieve for you."
"Are you allowed to have that much fun in a library," Buffy said, staring at Margo, then looked at Giles. "You've never talked like that."
"The moment has never been appropriate," Giles said. "In this respect, Dame Margo is right. Learning can be quite enjoyable, and is potentially beneficial to all of you."
Willow nodded. "You've done jigsaws, haven't you?"
"Yes," Xander said. "Why?"
"You know how they're dull, at first, when you're just sorting out the edges and you don't know where any of the pieces go, but things slowly start to fit together, until eventually, if it's a good jigsaw, with not too much sky or anything, there's this moment where everything clicks, and you just know where everything belongs?"
"Sometimes."
Willow smiled. "It feels good, doesn't it?"
"Sort of," Xander said. "Sometimes."
"What she's talking about is the same thing," Willow said, "magnified ten trillion times."
"Cordy?" Xander said hopefully.
"Jigsaws can be fun," she replied.
Xander looked at all their faces. "OK, I'll stay, so no one else has to, but I won't enjoy it."
"We shall see, Mr Alexander," Margo said. "We shall see."
"Cordelia," Harmony said, grabbing Cordelia's shoulder. "We need to talk."
"Now?" Cordelia said, pulling away from Harmony. "The bus is leaving in five minutes."
"Now," Harmony said.
"We can talk later," Cordelia said, turning her back on Harmony. Much later, if she kept up that attitude.
"Do you want to know why I've been acting oddly lately?" Harmony whispered.
Cordelia glanced at her watch, then shrugged. "I can spare two minutes."
Harmony's absurd self-justifications would be amusing, and revealing of her vulnerabilities.
Harmony looked at all the other people getting on the bus for the zoo trip. "Not here. This is about weird stuff."
Over by the bus doors, Giles immediately looked up, then smiled at Cordelia and went back to talking with Buffy and Willow.
"Can't it wait?" Cordelia said.
"No," Harmony said, then turned and walked back into the school, slipping something to Aura as she passsed her.
Cordelia hesitated, then casually walked after her, taking care to appear unconcerned.
When she got inside Harmony was halfway down the left corridor.
"Come on," Harmony said. "I know somewhere we can talk."
"Not too far," Cordelia said, slowly following her. "We haven't got long."
Ignoring her, Harmony went up the stairs, completely unacceptable behaviour.
Really, Cordelia should just go back outside and leave Harmony dangling, but then she wouldn't find out what excuses Harmony had come up with.
Instead, Cordelia followed Harmony up the stairs.
"Close enough," Harmony said, looking along the corridor.
To what? Classes had started now. All these rooms were full, all except the new science lab, and that was locked up. Harmony shouldn't be able to get in there, unless—
Cordelia quickly backed away from Harmony, then stopped, feeling the edge of the stair behind her.
Harmony smiled, pulling a handkerchief out of her sleeve.
Cordelia turned, as if to run down the stairs, and Harmony grabbed at her from behind.
Expecting that, Cordelia spun round, kicking Harmony's knee.
Harmony stumbled backwards, then steadied herself and punched Cordelia in the stomach, hard.
As Cordelia gasped with exaggerated pain, she stepped sideways, away from the stairs.
Harmony winced in apparent concern, then she shook herself and jumped at Cordelia, knocking her to the floor.
Before Cordelia could recover, Harmony shoved the handkerchief under her nose.
It smelt strange, a cloyingly sweet scent with a hint of alcohol; had to be either anaesthetic or poison.
Cordelia struggled frantically, trying to push Harmony away, but everything was going grey, fading to black.