Chapter Thirty-seven: Aftermaths I – Put My Guns on the Ground (I can't shoot them, anymore)
Saturday, November 1, 1997: South Marion Drive Sunnydale Medical Complex, Sunnydale, Night 1:55am –
"Miss?"
Aura looked up along with the others to see a Candy Striper standing near their booth – probably because it was the only one here with adults – and looking uncertainly between her, Joyce, and the two Sheridans.
"Uh, is one of you a Miss Breckenridge?"
"Oh! That would be me," Aura said, scrambling out past a hastily standing Joyce Summers, and looking at the girl. Young woman. Whatever. "Yeah?"
"I was told to inform you that your friend, uh... " the Candy Striper trailed off uncertainly.
"Kendra?"
"Yes, that's it, Kendra," the young woman said, smiling gratefully at her. "Is conscious now, and if you hurry, you can see her for a few minutes. But only a few minutes."
"Oh, thank gods," Aura said. "Best news I've had in awhile. Couldja give me just a minute here?"
"Oh, sure," the Striper said. "But do hurry. We don't know how long it'll be before she falls asleep again."
"No probs," Aura said. She turned back to Joyce, the Sheridans, and the grouping of kids. "It was really... uh, interesting meeting all of you," she said, smiling, and most of the kids laughed. No, not kids. Irregulars.
"You too, Miss," Michael Sheridan said. "And thank you for keeping our daughter and Joyce's company while we were away."
"I'm so glad to hear your friend is in recovery," Michelle said.
"Me too. And no, wasn't any problem," Aura said. "I enjoyed talking to them." Stepping back from the table, she straightened, locked her eyes on the little First Sergeant's, and brought her hand up to her temple in the best approximation of a salute that she could manage.
Beverly's eyes widened, and she returned it hastily. "Uh, civilians aren't supposed to salute troops, ma'am."
"Yeah, well," Aura said, "I'm not really a civilian any more, and you're not really a trooper, huh?" She grinned, bringing her hand down. "But you and yours are heroes."
"Don't encourage them," Joyce said, frowning, but there wasn't any real heat behind it. Not any more.
Beverly looked stunned, and Aura turned back to Joyce and a grinning pair of Sheridans. "Tell Jesse... uh... tell him I'll see him. When I can."
"We will," Joyce said. "And thank you."
"Good luck." Nodding, Aura turned and followed the confused looking Striper out of the cafeteria, and down to the ICU wards.
Inside, Kendra looked... unnaturally pale and very small in the bed with tubes in her arms and nose.
"Hey," Aura said.
"Lady Aura?" Kendra's eyes widened slightly, "But... " her voice was a harsh, barely audible whisper.
"I waited to see about you, doofus, jeeze," Aura said, rolling her eyes. "You thought we wouldn't?"
"I didn't... " she shook her head slightly. "Didn't expect to wake up."
"You almost didn't," Aura said, nodding. "Look, they said I can only stay a few minutes so as to not wear you out, so I'll make this quick, ok? Glad to see you alive."
"Tank you," Kendra said. "You, also. That thing... "
"Daniel took care of him while Angel rushed you to the hospital here with us," Aura said. "Put him through a freaking stone wall and dropped a building on him, I'm told," she said, grinning. "Hope he croaks."
"Me also," Kendra said, attempting a small smile. Very small. "De vumpire brought me?"
"Saved your life," Aura said, nodding. "He and you were covered in blood and gore, jeeze. Creed half ripped you apart, it looked like. That reporter guy drove like a freaking maniac getting us here. EMTs said that if he and Angel hadn't done it, you'd have died."
"I... " Kendra closed her eyes briefly. "I never would... expected... "
"Yeah. Vampire saves Vampire Slayer, film at eleven," Aura said, nodding. "But it's been a freaky night. Look, is there anyone I should call for you?"
"Me... " Kendra paused and swallowed, then said, "Me Watcher, Sam Zabuto. Watcher here... will know."
"I'll make sure Mr. Giles gets the message," Aura said.
"Tank you... "
"No. Tank you," Aura said, grinning. "You helped save all of us, including my friend Jesse."
"Am... Slayer... " Kendra said. "And don't... don't make fun of me accent."
"Ok, I won't," Aura said, but the other girl was already passed out or asleep again.
Saturday, November 1, 1997: Sunnydale High School, Sunnydale, Night 2:30am –
The last of the line of taxis disgorged their cargoes of little costumed troopers as Joyce's SUV and the Sheridan's jeep came to a halt behind them. Michael and Michelle Sheridan, Beverly, Misty, Carlos, Kit, Amanda, Janice, and Dawn piled out of the Wrangler Unlimited as Joyce closed the door behind herself and Stephanie Rogers.
Dawn had insisted on riding with her friends, even if she had to cram herself in sideways into the cramped and overloaded Wrangler's back seats. That girl was getting to be completely impossible...
Joyce wasn't going to even remotely admit that her daughter frightened her now, just a tiny bit, sometimes... that even, and occasionally distant and terrifyingly cold gaze just shouldn't belong on any eleven year old. No matter what they'd been through or that impossible man thought.
"Stay here, please," Joyce said through her open window to the little group overcrowding her vehicle. Speaking of cold eyed and disconcerting little warriors... "Especially you, Pooka Bell."
"Awww... ratz," the tiny pixie said, folding her arms over her chest and sticking her lower lip out.
"I'll make sure she stays, Mrs. Summers," Princess Wicked said, smiling.
"Thank you," Joyce said, nodding to them.
"I'd like permission to address your troops for a moment, if I may, First Sergeant," Michael Sheridan was saying to Beverly in an exceedingly grave and formal tone of voice, his face set in a way that Joyce had never seen it this night.
"Certainly, sir," Beverly said, her back straightening despite the yawn threatening to break out of her lips.
"Irregulars!" Little Bucky, err, Johnny Smith, called out. "Officer on Deck! By squads – fall in!"
Joyce stutter stepped to a halt, watching in half amazement and half dismay as the entire group, including her daughter for Christ's sake, scrambled to organize themselves and fell in to serried double ranks facing Beverly and her father. Like... Dawn's army ants wisecrack came to mind again.
It suddenly didn't seem like a wisecrack any more.
Nor did it suddenly seem implausible any more that other people and things started to scramble to get out of the way of this little mob when they seriously got rolling with intent.
"Irregulars," Beverly called out, "My father the Colonel would like to address you. Atten-hut!"
Everyone snapped to. Including her eleven year old daughter again...
"You kids have been through a lot tonight, so I'll make this short," Michael Sheridan said, his voice grave and serious. "In a moment, all of you will be going in to meet your parents, with the exception of those you have lost, and those who haven't yet recovered. And once you do – you'll be expected to become and be little children once again.
"None of you really know me other than as Sergeant Benjy's Father. I am Lt. Col. Michael Sheridan, U.S. Army, Rangers, Retired. I am proud and pleased to be addressing you here and now.
"Know this. In my eyes, whether you are still children or not, you are heroes, and soldiers, one and all. Especially your dead and missing. You've proven this over and over again during the course of this night. You've faced terrible things and odds, taken care of each other, and completed a mission that you took on voluntarily in the face of hardships that many adults would have given up on or turned away from. And you finished it and succeeded.
"And further, my daughter and your commanders tell me that never once, no matter what the provocation, have you forgotten what and who you are. Even in the face of temptation, you did not turn into a mob, or into bandits and marauders. Again, a feat that many adult soldiers I've led cannot claim.
"As you all know and remember now, there is no Tech-Comm, North American Resistance Command to return to. Only your homes and families. Tech-comm was a fiction that your teenaged escort made up to pull you together and turn you into a group that could and would stick together and help each other. He succeeded. In my opinion, he would be very proud of you. I know that I am.
"With your permission, I would be honored to command each and any one of you."
Stephanie Rogers, Simone Deveaux, Bobbie Phillips, and Johnny Smith stepped out from the group and saluted, dropping it when it was returned. "Thank you sir, on behalf of our men, our wounded, our dead, and our missing," Stephanie said, formally. "With the First Sergeant's permission, I would be proud to accept your command on behalf of the First Sunnydale Irregulars."
Beverly nodded, not even cracking a smile.
Turning to Beverly, he said, "First Sergeant? The troop is yours."
"Sir, yes sir!" Beverly turned back to the ranks, and said, "Aw right. Fall out. Get in that base and let's finish this freaking mission!"
The full voiced roaring cheer that rose made Joyce fall back a step, her eyes widening.
Stepping out of ranks and moving up to the front of the group, little Misty Pantine, that disconcerting young girl, lifted one foot and then the other, setting them down hard, and bringing her hands together sharply.
Stomp! Stomp! CLAP! Stomp! Stomp! CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP!
Joyce watched in amazement and not a little horror, and more than a bit of sadness as the ranks of nine, ten, and eleven year olds stomp stomp clapped their way up the steps and in through the double doors of Sunnydale High School.
Stephanie peeled out of formation and headed back to Joyce's SUV, grinning as she watched the troop head in.
Saturday, November 1, 1997: Sunnydale High School Library, Sunnydale, Night 2:40am –
Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP!
Rupert Giles, Jenny Calendar, Willow Rosenberg, and Jesse McNally looked at each other, their eyebrows rising in puzzled curiosity.
Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP!
Being both a bit closer to the door, and younger and with much faster reflexes, Jesse was out of his chair and at the doors before Giles and Jenny rose and took more than a step or two, his chair falling over behind him. Willow was about three steps behind him.
Willow had squeaked when she'd seen him and nearly passed out from babbling and hyperventilating. But once she'd gotten her breath back and her feet under her, she'd run to Xander's gym locker and gotten a pair of his spare sweats, a Sunnydale High t-shirt, and a sweat shirt for him. The sleeves and legs were too short, and the tee and sweatshirt was too tight in the chest and shoulders – but at least he no longer looked like a complete idiot and a walking casualty in a shredded and bloodstained Iron Fist costume.
Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP!
He was keeping that, though, for a keepsake. That and the odd little plastic Iron Fist key-chain fob he'd found tucked inside of the waistband... along with his old Renn Faire bracelet. Too, too bizarre.
Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP!
His eyes wide, Jesse turned to the two older people moving up behind him. "Guys? You're not gonna believe this. There's forty or fifty little kids marching into the school. In ranks, for gods sake. And... they're all doing the Stomp Clap thing from Queen."
Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP!
"Good lord," Giles said, almost fumbling his glasses as he removed them. They dangled half forgotten from his fingers as Jenny put a hand to her mouth.
"Uh, so they are... " she said.
"My God," Willow said. "That's so cute, in an, uh, really really scary kinda way."
Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP! Stomp Stomp CLAP!
"Atten-hut! Irregulars! Fall out and go meet your folks. We are HOME!" a very small, light brown haired girl in a green and camo Army outfit called out.
There was a loud, cacophonous cheer as about forty plus kids broke apart into a mob and swarmed over to the parents that had managed to get there after Joyce, Michael's, and Michelle's calls to them.
"Good lord," Giles said again, blinking.
A grinning Michael and Michelle Sheridan, with the short girl in the army drab and camo, came over to them as Giles, Jenny, and Jesse exited the library, heading to meet him. "They're something else, aren't they?" Michael said.
"Oh yes," Jenny said. "Um... I'm not sure what, but that's certainly, uh, descriptive." Jesse laughed.
"They're the First Sunnydale Irregulars, apparently," Joyce Summers said, coming up to them and wearing a peculiar expression. She was leading a grinning, slender girl of around eleven with long, tangled, and once shiny hair. "Michael and Michelle's daughter's little army."
"Hey, Mrs. Summers," Willow said, getting a smile and a tired wave back. "Dawnie."
"Our daughter brought the kids home, and did a bit of recruiting along the way," Michelle said.
"Apparently so," Giles said. "Most extraordinary."
"Hey! You're Iron Fist!" Beverly said, practically jumping up and down. "Kewl! We thought you were an evil dragon sorcerer when you first showed up."
"Oh, my gods, that was you guys running like hel- uh, heck when I first arrived?" Jesse said, laughing. "Sorry I scared you, kid. And I'm not Iron Fist any more. Just Jesse McNally. Sorry."
"That's ok," Beverly said, grinning. "And Aura said you beat up Sabretooth. Close enough for rock and roll."
"I was Iron Fist when I did that," Jesse said. "Oh, and this is my oldest friend, Willow"
"Oh, hey – you're Ghost Lady," Benjy said, grinning. "Way cool."
"Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan? And Mrs. Summers?" a heavyset black man said, coming up to them with a handsome, slender woman and a small girl in a bloody and rumpled looking Ghost Buster's jumper. "My wife and I really want to thank you for calling us and bringing our daughter back."
"Thank our daughter here," Michael suggested. "We just provided taxi service – she did all the hard work."
"And you also, Mr. Giles and Ms. Calendar," the woman said. "For filling in after the other staff abdicated their responsibilities."
"Oh, uh, we merely did what we could," Giles said, starting to polish his glasses. "It wasn't very much, I'm afraid."
"It was something," the man said. "More than the others did. Now, if you'll excuse us, we're going to take our daughter back to the emergency room."
"Dad! I'm tired. And I'm ok for now, really," the girl said. "Can't we go in the morning?"
"It is morning, young lady," the woman said. "Don't argue, Gabrielle Jennifer Blaylock. You're injured and you are going. End of discussion."
"Um, if I might offer a suggestion?" Giles said, getting inquiring looks from the two parents. "I happen to have advanced first aid training, and am a certified Emergency Medical Technician. Well, in, ah, Great Britain, anyway. I could examine the injuries and attempt to determine if she needs immediate professional attention, or if it can wait until she's had a night's sleep. If you don't mind, of course, that is."
"My wife and I both have EMT training ourselves," Michael Sheridan said. "Unlicensed, of course, but I won't tell if you won't." He winked at Giles. "We gave them a cursory look over earlier for anything too major or life threatening, and when we didn't find any, and they insisted on returning here first before going to the ER, we decided to leave treatment decisions to the parents involved."
"That's very nice of you, Mr. Giles, Mr. Sheridan."
Giles nodded. "Certainly. If you would, then please bring her into the library. Also, do please extend the offer to any other parents who have injured children, or any injured whose parents have not yet arrived. I have a rather extensive first aid kit in my office, uh, ah, for just in case."
"I'll go get the Emergency Kit out," Willow said, turning and running for the library.
"I'll do whatever I can to help," Jesse said, nodding.
Joyce raised an eyebrow at that, at both of them, but merely said, "Well, I'd love to stay and help, but I need to get Dawn and her guests home, and I still have another missing daughter to wait for."
"Oh, sure, Mrs. Summers," Mr. Blaylock said. "We understand perfectly. And thank you again."
Joyce nodded, smiling, and said, "Think nothing of it. And, Mr. Giles? We'll talk extensively here at some point in the very near future."
"Ah, err, yes, certainly," Giles said, looking a bit disconcerted. "I'll, err, look forward to it. Somewhat."
"Come on, Dawn."
"Later, Bev," Dawn said. Spitting on her palm, she stepped forward grinning and shook hands with the smaller girl. "It was... well, not fun, but it wasn't boring. See ya."
"See ya," Beverly said. "We'll take over the school next week. Then, Pinky? The World!"
"See? I told Aura not to encourage them," Joyce said, shaking her head. "Come along, soldier. We're going home now."
Saturday, November 1, 1997: Rory Harris home, near Ojai, Night 2:30am –
"Don't be getting any ideas, dork wad," Cordelia said, tossing her jacket onto a chair and setting down the heavy rifle and her shotgun. "Seriously, Xander, I may not want to sleep alone right now, but that's all, ok? Just sleep. I'm too exhausted and wrung out for anything else even if I wanted to."
They'd ended up sitting up a bit longer and talking, after Xander had retrieved a .416 Rigby and a .505 Gibbs from Rory's gun safe and loaded them. At least, talked until Cordelia was hit by an attack of the yawns that finally drove them to one of Rory's guest rooms.
"Cordy?" Xander Harris looked at her, shaking his head slightly, and said, "What do you think I am, a complete idiot? No – don't answer that," he said, grinning as she reflexively started to open her mouth. A bit ruefully, she grinned back at him. "I know, all right? Besides, even if I wanted to, I'm thinking that me falling asleep in the middle and starting to snore isn't the best way to impress babes and get laid."
"Hah! Got that right, geek," Cordelia said, snickering. "I'd be insulted, anyway. I expect your full, undivided attention in the unlikely event that you ever do mange to get that lucky."
"You'd get it, too," Xander said. Crossing the room, he put his arms around her neck and lowered his head slightly to kiss her forehead. "I'm sorry, Cordy. For everything."
"Oh? What are you sorry about?" Cordelia shook her head, and said, "You didn't make Larry buy a Terminator Suit or cast that idiotic spell. You didn't kill my parents and everyone in our household. It. Is. Not. Your. Fault. Idiot."
"I love the way you can manage to work in an insult even while you're making me feel better," Xander said, snickering. "Only you, Cordy."
"Oh, shut the hell up and give me a real kiss, dumb ass," Cordelia said, "Not that stupid forehead thing."
Several minutes later, an insistent buzzing noise made her break off the kiss and stare at her bag. "My phone? Wow. Hold that thought, doofus. We'll get back to it later."
Hurrying the few steps, she reached down and snagged her cell phone out of the bag, flipping it open impatiently to see who was trying to reach her. "Whoa, damn."
Hitting the go key, Cordelia stuck the phone to her ear, and said, "Hey! Aura? Jeeze... "
«Hey! Cordelia, finally, freaking Jesus H. fucking Christ, sheesh. You wouldn't believe how messed up the phones out here have been!»
"Oh yes I would. And oh thank gods, you're still alive. I'd figured something killed and ate you. And in Sunnydale? Not really a joke."
«Tell me! And hey, I am so seriously pissed off at you right now, girlfriend. How dare you not tell me about the freaking vampires and demons infesting this stupid, idiotic half a horse town! I'm so going to kill you when I see you again.»
"Sorry. Seriously," Cordelia said, rolling her eyes to Xander, who snickered quietly. "But it was some huge secret thing with Buffy and the gang. No telling people yata yata yata."
«I'm striking you off my friends since three list, girl. And, hey, you would not believe the night I've been having ever since freaking Blayne turned into a werewolf inside my freaking car and tried to kill and eat me all up. Good gods.»
"Oh yes I would," Cordelia said. "At least you haven't had a freaking killer robot from the future try to kill you all night. Oh, crap, Aura. Sit. Fucking Larry Blaisdell the idiot dressed like the Terminator and killed Aphrodesia and Owen and a whole bunch of people at the Bronze while trying to kill me. And my parents at my house, dammit."
«Oh, crap, Cordy. That sucks. And I'm sorry about your folks, jeeze.»
"Yeah... tell me about it. Well, at least you lived. How'd you get away?"
«Wrecked my freaking mom's car and jumped out and ran like hell while Blayne-wolf was picking himself out of the busted windshield. And then ran into this guy in an Iron Fist costume who kicked Blayne's ass and sent him packing. How'd you get away? That sounded freaking horrible."
"Xander saved me," Cordelia said. "And Jonathan Levinson. And then Paul Stein let us go from jail. We bailed out two jumps ahead of it while it was shooting up the police station."
There was a really long pause on the other end of the line, and Cordelia started snickering.
«Excuse me? I could have sworn that you said that Xander and Jonathan saved you from the freaking Terminator?»
"I did. It was a soldier thing. Don't sweat it. We ever get out of this alive, and I'll tell you all about it. Or you can ask Tam, if she survived, jeeze."
«Oh-kayyyy... and the night just gets weirder and weirder. Oh! Fuck me, Cordy. You won't believe this. The guy in the Iron Fist costume? Was Jesse freaking McNally.»
Cordelia's mouth opened, stayed that way, and she sat down on the nearest solid, level surface. Which happened to be the floor under her, and her ass hit it with a thud. She didn't even notice.
After several long minutes, Xander walked over and bent, and pulled the phone from her unresisting grasp. He put it to his ear and pulled it back slightly almost immediately.
«Hello! Hello? Cordy? Cordelia! Answer me, goddammit! Did you have a freaking heart attack and croak?»
"Hello? Aura?"
«Huh? Who? Uh, Xander?»
"Yup. Me. What did you say to her, jeeze? She's sitting here with her mouth open and a thousand yard stare and a trickle of drool running down from the corner of her mouth."
"Hey! I am not drooling, Harris!" Cordelia said, blinking. "Am I?" She reached a hand up to her cheek. Oh, crap... she was.
«Uh... I'm not sure I should do this to you, Xan.»
"C'mon, Aura. You made my girlfriend go catatonic. Hit me."
«G-g- gir-girlfriend? Did you say girlfriend?»
The ear splitting OH MY GAWD squeal made him yank the phone away from his head hastily.
"Give me that, Harris," Cordelia said, scrambling to her feet and reaching for her phone. Xander turned away, moving and sidestepping to keep her from grabbing it back. "And I am so not your girlfriend, dammit!"
"Yes, I said, girl-friend. Problem?"
«Oh, hell no. About damned time, jeeze. Anyway, if you really wanna know, but I gotta warn you: it's like major shockage. Jesse McNally saved me from a werewolf who used to be my date and then from freaking Sabretooth.»
Cordelia snagged back her phone out of Xander's unresisting grasp after his butt hit the floor with a thump. "Jeeze, Aura, now you're two for two."
«Yes! Score!» Cordelia shook her head as truly vicious laughter came from the little speaker grill. «And no, I am not joking, not kidding, not pulling your leg, girlfriend. Jesse McNally is back. And freaking alive! And no, before you freaking ask, nope, haven't a damned clue how. Neither does he – last I saw him, he thinks he's Daniel Rand.»
"Wow. Good gods... ok, that damned near tops my night for freaky," Cordelia said. "And I didn't think that was possible, jeeze."
«Heh. That's only the tip of the iceberg, sheesh. Did you know that Angel guy is a vampire? Oh! And a freaking insane vampire lady tried to kill me at the freaking emergency room and take my eyes, dammit! I had to pull all sorts of insane-o crap to get away and then drive her off.»
Cordelia put her hand to Xander's chest and held him off, stiff armed, as he reached for the phone again. She moved next to him and lowered it slightly so he could listen in.
"Hey! I'm back," Xander said, ignoring Cordelia's glare and her shhh! "How the hell... no, wait, never mind. I think I know." Cordelia blinked at him, her eyes going wide.
«How, uh... ok. Clue me in if you ever get a chance, guy. And don't freaking die or I'll kick your ass, dipshit.»
"No prob," Xander said, grinning. "Hey – that was a hell of a party we threw at the Bronze after we took down that mummy girl, wasn't it?"
Cordelia stared at him, and then her eyes narrowed and she nodded.
«Huh? Uh, Harris? Did I derail your teeny tiny brain even more than Cordy said I did? Party? What party? What mummy girl?»
"Uh, never mind," Xander said, grinning. He held up a thumb and forefinger in an OK sign, and Cordelia grinned, nodding again. "I'm gonna let Cordy have this all to herself again."
«All right... hey! Before you – »
Cordelia stepped on Aura's comment and said, "All me now."
«Ok. Is Xander gone insane now or something?»
"What, like he wasn't before?" Cordelia said, snickering. "Never mind, I'll explain some day. What were you gonna tell him?"
«Huh. Gonna hold you to that one, girl. Yeah, uh... tell idiot boy that all of his kids are all right, or most of them. A little eleven year old girl named First Sergeant Benjy, uh, Beverly Sheridan, led all forty something of them across half of Sunnydale through all kinds of fights and crap until they showed up here at the hospital.»
"Really? Wow. Must be some girl," Cordelia said. "And hey, why are you at the hospital, anyway?"
«Oh, you don't know the half of it. She's a freaking little hero. All of 'em are. And I'm ok – a girl named Kendra got hurt bad when Sabretooth damn near ripped her in half. Angel and some reporter drove like maniacs to get her here and I've been sticking around to keep an eye on her.»
"Wow. Angel did? Ok... man, are we gonna have some catching up to do. Anyway, tell everyone – library crew only, jeeze – that we're alive and tell Buffy that if she sees Larry, to run like hell away from him, K? Oh, crap, and Harmony too, jeeze."
«All right. I think I'm an unofficial library gang member now, or at least an honorary one. Harmony?»
"Yeah. Xander said he and Jonno saw her buying another Terminator suit at that Beathan's place. Yikes! As if one wasn't bad enough..."
«Tell me about it. So, where are you two, anyway?»
"So not gonna tell you. No offense, but staying away from Larry-bot is the only chance we've got. I know you wouldn't tell on purpose, but he already killed my parents trying to find out how to find me," Cordelia said. "And the entire Sunnydale Police Department while trying to get to me. No one else is getting hurt on account of me."
«Ah. Oh, jeeze. Right. No probs. And I'll run like hell too if I see him.»
"Ok, I'm, like exhausted, so I'm off the line now. But I am glad you're alive."
«Yeah. Me too. See ya. Oh, and hey: next time I'll think of something to say only you would get, or Harris.»
Cordelia closed the phone, looked at it, and then tossed it back into her bag. "Good plan, Harris," she said. "I didn't even think of that."
"Hey, I remembered the Terminator imitating someone to find out that Sarah Connor was at the motel, and had a brainstorm," Xander said, shrugging. "And the bit with the dog and John's step parents in the second movie."
"Well, good, anyway," Cordelia said, nodding. "Oh, two things: one, all of your kid group is safe. Some little girl named, uh, Sergeant Benjy or something led them all back in. And two, how the hell do you know how Jesse came back?"
"Really? Wow. I was worried... and wait, did you say: Benjy?" Cordelia nodded, and Xander started laughing. He sat down on the bed shaking his head. "Wow. So my four foot four inch First Sergeant got 'em all back... that's... really damned impressive."
"Yeah. Aura said they were all heroes, but her especially. She apparently led forty plus kids to Sunnydale Memorial. And, hey – cough up. You can tell me about the First Sergeant Benjy thing tomorrow. Jesse. Now. Or I kill you and Larry won't have to."
"Ok, but it's going to sound weird, really goofy, and bizarre. I, uh, bought a cheap little Iron Fist key-chain fob from that Ethan guy's place when I got my costume stuff," Xander said. He shrugged, "And I wore it attached to Jesse's old renn faire bracelet when we went out in costume. Because, uh, he always wanted for like, all of freshman and most of sophomore year, to dress up as his favorite super hero and win the Junior Senior Costume Contest at the Bronze. From like, when he first heard about it... "
Cordelia stared at him, and then swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. "That, uh, doesn't sound goofy. It sounds kinda... wow. Don't even know what."
Xander nodded, smiling crookedly. "Figured it was the closest he was gonna get now. Was gonna grab you and Aura and drag you away from the parasites and see if you wanted to bend back a toast with me and Will. You know, like, friends lost or something... "
Cordelia nodded, feeling kind of numb. She swallowed again. "We would have, yeah. And, wow. So you think that, uh... "
Xander shrugged. "Didn't really register after that it wasn't there when I came back in the car... and it wasn't there when I showed back up in that alley. And Hicks didn't know to look for it," he said. "So, do I think that somehow the magic thing interacted somehow with those and made Jesse come back when I disappeared briefly? Yeah. Almost makes sense even, if you squint at it and don't think about it too hard."
"You're right," Cordelia said, trying to blink back a sudden wetness in her eyes. Damned desert dust... "Weird and bizarre."
Xander grinned again, and shook his head. "Oh. And I only had thirty some odd kids. Benjy musta gone on a recruitment drive if she brought back forty something."
"What, are you freaking infectious or something? Like a plague carrier?" At Xander's blank look, Cordelia shook her head, and said, "C'mon, hero. Let's go to bed before I start yawning again and can't stop this time."
"Yes'm."
"I'm telling you: don't start with me."
"No ma'am. Wouldn't dream of it, ma'am."
Laughing, Xander caught her blouse right before it would have wrapped around his face.
Saturday, November 1, 1997: South Marion Drive Sunnydale Medical Complex, Sunnydale, Night 2:55am –
"Hey."
At the sound of the soft voice, Aura opened her eyes. She'd only been resting them briefly, anyway, after hanging up with Cordelia. Hadn't had time to fall asleep yet.
"Hey yourself, Angel," Aura said, smiling up at him. A sudden yawn made her cover her mouth with a fist, and then she blinked at him.
"Don't shoot, I'm unarmed," Angel said, holding up his hands, palm out, and smiling slightly at the large cross clutched in Aura's fist.
"Vampire repellent," Aura said, grinning. "Not Angel repellent."
"Yeah, figured."
"Heh. Completely bug fucking insane-o vampire chick came here to kill Kendra and started talking about her Spoike, and about taking my eyes because they were lovely. I remembered seeing this on a guy dressed like an old timey Jesuit, and grabbed it and burned her with it, then ran like hell to the chapel, and stuck one of those big stand up crosses in her gut and she screamed and ran off."
"Uh... " Angel blinked and stared at her after the monologue finally ran down and stopped. "Uh... she said Spoike? You're sure? And had a weird almost Liverpool kind of accent? Just like that?"
"Yeah. You know her?" Aura said.
"Uh, yeah. Drusilla. Spike's girlfriend for about a hundred and twenty years or so. I, uh," Angel stuck his hands in his pants pockets and looked away. "I drove her insane back when I was still evil and then turned her."
"Ah. So it's your fault," Aura said, snickering. "Shame on you."
"Well, yeah." Angel looked at her with a somewhat sheepish expression. "Sorry. You, uh, don't sound all that mad. Or freaked out or disgusted."
"Hey, you didn't make her attack me," Aura said. "Besides... I won, dammit. And I kinda gathered that you were a real dickhead before you got religion."
"I was, yeah," Angel said. "And I know. And, wow, that's impressive. Dru is pretty seriously dangerous," Angel said, nodding. "So, uh, Kendra?"
"Gonna make it, yay!" Aura said, smiling. "She's in ICU recovery. I got to see her briefly – she looks like frozen crap, but she's gonna live. Wants me to tell Mr. Giles to call her Watcher."
"Oh, thank God," Angel said. "I was worried. I've, uh, been out looking for Buffy."
"Kinda figured. Any luck?" Aura said.
Angel shook his head, "Not yet. And it's died down out there considerably. Decided to stop by and check for news and see if you wanted a ride home or anything."
"Oh, yeah. That'd be cool. I'm about sick and tired of this place," Aura said. "Thank you."
"No problem."
"Hey – you wouldn't believe some of the encounters I've had here. I'll tell you on the way."
Saturday, November 1, 1997: Pirate Ship Bloodfin, somewhere in the seas of the Never-After, Night: sometime indeterminate –
"All right, ye scallions," the grimy, bearded pirate said. "Here shortly in a few days or so, we're to be joining with the rest of the fleet, somewhere off the coast of Nehwon."
Narrowing her eyes, or at least the open one, Private Calamity Oakley of the First Sunnydale Irregulars, formerly ten year old Polly Reagan of Sunnydale, looked at the buccaneer addressing her and her fellow child captives. She kept her eyes on his chin.
Not his eyes, because that was a challenge, and meek, defeated, scared little kids didn't challenge hardened killer adults. Private Calamity Oakley was a meek, defeated, terrified little kid.
She believed that just as hard as she could, projecting it from every single pore of her body.
Forty three other kids ranging from around eight or so to ten or twelve, and her. All of them dressed in various outfits ranging from small ballerinas to mini police officers to small musketeers. Even a couple of small troopers, she'd noticed. She had heard the pirates making bets on how many of them would turn out to be changelings and how many just children when the witching hours broke.
She had no idea what the brigands meant by 'changeling', any more than she'd really understood First Sergeant Benjy's and Misty's discussions on 'transformers' in their group.
Of course, Private Calamity didn't consider that she herself might be a changeling. She had always been Calamity Oakley. She also didn't consider herself a child, either.
She was a Forager, a Ranger, and an Irregular.
But she was perfectly happy to let this moron and his 'mates' consider her a child if they wanted to. She'd even encourage it.
It was an edge, and she was gonna need every single edge she was able to get.
He had introduced himself as Captain Black Tom Hennessy, the Bloodfin's chief scullery officer. Captain Black Teeth was more like it, Calamity thought.
She watched the sneering, strutting pirate and resisted the temptation to touch her tongue to her split lip, or the new gap in her side teeth. Nor did she raise a hand to touch the blackened, purplish, and swollen shut right eye that was making her have to turn her head in near microscopic increments to track the pacing brigand as he moved across her field of vision, nor to the bruise going purple along her jaw.
Her twisted and wrenched left wrist was held somewhat immobile by her hand shoved through her empty gunbelt. Best she could do.
"When that happens, it's transferring over to the Windover ye'll be, all of ye new ones, to fill out the roster of scullery urchins, cabin boys, locker girls, and even possibly junior seamen and midshipmen, if'n ye qualify," Black Tom said. He grinned, exposing the stumps of blackened and rotting teeth. "Which it's doubtin' I am. The Windover's new Captain, Senior Captain Ezekiel Hook, is a demanding taskmaster, as ye'll discover."
Private Calamity knew precisely who had the stag handled single action revolvers and the heavy bladed bowie that had once been in the holsters and scabbard of that empty gunbelt, too. It was the sneering and badly misnamed First Mate Lady Joy standing slightly behind and right of the black toothed buffoon speaking to them. Calamity's eyes never once went to her former revolvers stuck through the enemy's belt, nor to the knife.
No need. At some point, it would be her hands going to them.
Lady Joy was headed to the Windover as well.
Black Tom paused, spit a stream of tobacco juice into a spittoon held by a male seaman, and then continued, "Still, if'n ye work hard, it'll be a part of the crew ye'll be, and eventually even officers and scallywags in yer own right. See to it that ye do. I'd like to be proud of ye some day, e'en though I doubt there's much in ye to stir pride in even a mongrel of a King's Man."
Private Calamity never pressed her right arm against the still seeping slice across her ribs, souvenir of a swipe from one of the hairy beast things that had knocked her rifle from her hand, after it had killed the brigand holding her, and then turned and savaged the girl in the bunny outfit moments later.
"Do not, and it'll be the lash and eventually the depths of Davy Jones' locker for ye."
Her escape had been short lived. She'd been blindsided and grabbed by the female First Mate almost immediately, just before the entire mob had turned to flee the beast things.
"I'd think on these things, an' I were you," Black Teeth stepped back and the seaman type girl in the skimpy outfit closed the barred door before him, locking it as she did so. Cap'n Black Teeth Hennessy spit again, turned on a heel and strode away with the badly named Joy, leaving them in their dank little hold of a prison cell.
Private Calamity Oakley allowed herself to sneer, finally. Once and only once, and briefly, and then it was gone as if it had never been.
But she no longer looked terrified, and she no longer looked exactly like a child...
Black Tom Hennessy wore the blue and cream of a Revolutionary War era United States naval officer's uniform and black boots. The ingrained years of grime and stench and wear and tattering suggested that it once had been his own, and that had been a long, long time ago.
He didn't deserve to wear that uniform. A pity that Calamity was not going to be able to inform his bled out corpse of that fact.
Her eyes did flicker once, and only once, and briefly at that, as Joy was turning away, to the long barreled, pistol gripped Winchester Model '73 slung over the female First Mate's shoulder.
That weapon had been plucked from the hand of a dying sixteen year old gunfighter that Ezekiel Hook's cutthroats had encountered shortly before Calamity had been handed off to the lousy and filthy Bill Youngley for transport back to Bloodfin. It wasn't Calamity's premium large loop Winchester 1894, and it was slightly oversized... but it would surely do.
All right. So, according to what she'd heard from the pirates that had captured her, when they had spoken amongst themselves, and the grimy wretch who'd taken them to this ship... it would be a year until the Bloodfin and the Windover returned to Sunnydale. Samhain night, next year, matter of fact.
Three hundred and sixty-five days.
Private Calamity didn't intend to wait that long.
Sooner or later, these idiots were going to forget that she really wasn't a child, assuming they even realized this, and they were going to drop their guard and become fat, dumb, and happy. And careless... And Private Calamity would be waiting.
Sooner or later, one of them would lay a firearm down where it could be grabbed. Or a sword. Or a knife. A knife gets you a sword gets you a pistol gets you a longarm. A longarm gets you your handgun and bowie back, and an awfully sweet Winchester to boot.
They'd discover then that she had been the Premier Rifle Marksman of the First Sunnydale Irregulars, Tech-comm, North American Resistance Command, and just exactly what that meant.
They would also, at that point, discover why the silver star worn pinned to the inside lapel of her long frock coat was emblazoned: "One Riot, One Ranger." Briefly, and then it would be far, far too late for the knowledge to do any of them any good whatsoever.
And if by some odd chance they did not, and she didn't get that chance? Well, then, in three hundred and sixty-five days, they'd be making landfall in Sunnydale again.
When they did, they'd discover that the First Sunnydale Irregulars never, ever forgot a debt owed by or to friend, ally, or enemy. And they never ever voluntarily left one of their own behind or unavenged. She had seen that Private Admiral Mayhem had escaped captivity during the scrum, and Calamity knew her fellow troop would tell the others that Calamity was still captive. She did not fault her fellow Irregulars for retreating, nor for not rushing to hunt her captors down and effect her rescue.
First Sergeant Benjy had had twenty-six other Irregulars to take care of, a mission, and a responsibility to fulfill. The welfare of the unit and the mission took precedence over the fate of an individual trooper stupid enough, clumsy enough, and careless enough to get herself captured and not be able to effect her own succor. Either way, on ship or back in Sunnydale, an opportunity would present.
Private Calamity Oakley would be waiting and ready, in either event.
And then the dying would begin, and it wouldn't be Calamity doing it. Escaping is easy when everyone and anyone who can prevent you from doing so is dead.
Meanwhile... unarmed, alone, wounded, beaten, captive, and cut off from everything and everyone and unimaginably far from any possible support from Command. The battered, frozen eyed ten year old in the black gunfighter outfit and the black frock coat turned and began to examine her fellow captives with a critical and appraising eye. A cold, razor edged smile slid briefly across her lips and disappeared almost immediately.
Meanwhile, Private Calamity had some recruiting to do.
Whether they realized it or not, the First Sunnydale Irregulars, Tech-comm, North American Resistance Command, were about to gain a new squad or two of hardened Foragers and Rangers.
Private Calamity Oakley still had a mission to complete.
Thus Endeth the First Book of the Cordelia Chase Cronicles -
The Hell-er-Nator: Chaos Machine
(To be continued in Book II: Ghosting the Machine)
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