Monday Morning
"Staring again."
"Well, I like." Morning light streamed through Oz's window;
Willow thought he glowed.
"I'm not going away, you know."
"I know. I still worry."
"Don't." Oz tapped the bed next to him. "Come back. Lie down."
She did. "What is it, babe?"
"I still don't believe--"
"Willow?"
"I was alone for so long; I didn't think I'd ever be unalone."
"You deserve everything, Will. You show me what I can do. You
make me brave. I can't hide from you; you tease out my
secrets. And, you smell nice too."
Willow giggled a bit, but went somber again. "But, I don't
deserve."
"No, Willow."
"But, I--I betrayed you."
"And I've forgiven you. I don't want to hear any more talk of
forgiveness here. Just, why can't you forgive yourself?"
"There has to be something evil in me for me to do that."
"No, Willow. Confused, yes. Not evil. But, no more. You are our
conscience."
"Jiminy Cricket, that's me."
"But, there's a time when you have to stop punishing
yourself. When's Yom Kippur anyway?"
Willow softly punched herself over her heart and started to
recite the Vidui, the Yom Kippur short confession.
"But, you do not punish yourself any more. You do what you think
is right, and I will trust you. Forever. But remember exactly
what I have inside me."
"Yeah. You have a new cage yet?"
"Aunt and Uncle are working on it. I spoke with them yesterday."
"Good."
"Are there Jewish werewolves?"
"Only if we're not very, very careful."
"Shall we practice being careful?"
"Safe sex really has a different meaning here on the Hellmouth."
"Well, I could wear my mittens. And a mouth guard."
"Don't forget socks."
"And socks."
"Don't you dare."
"Well, this thing at least."
---
Buffy and her mother were in their kitchen, preparing sandwiches
and pouring drinks into travel jugs. Mrs. Summers' favorite
vacation song came from the CD player:
Quitting Time,
Quitting Time,
Quitting Time,
Quitting Time.
Money is not the problem,
You have enough of that....
Quitting Time
The Roches
"You okay with this, Mom?"
"I feel a little strange. I remember everything we did, but I
don't recognize myself in those memories."
"Do you have any sympathy for me, and all the stupid things I've
done?"
"Yes, but I'd still ground you every time."
"Well, I'm moving out in three months. But, seriously, are you
wigged out by all this? Or by my knowing about it?"
"A little. I mean, your father and I tried to hide our sex lives
from you, and there was nothing illicit or dishonorable about
that. It's a little daunting for me to know that you work every
day with someone I've been intimate with."
"Well, he hides 'Ripper' pretty well. I hope he's ok with it,
with us."
"He'll be okay."
"I don't know, mom. He keeps a lot inside him; when it comes out,
I duck. Do you know, he ran the Mayor through with a sword? It
didn't hurt Wilkins at all, however."
"Oh. And you, how do you feel about all this?"
"Well, I have trouble with the concept of you having sex. Of
course, I'm not 11; I don't think you only had sex once in your
life, nineteen years ago."
"Grow up, dear."
"But, you and Giles? I mean, there's no reason you shouldn't, but
the thought makes me wiggy."
"You sound jealous."
"Mom."
"Really. You sound jealous."
"Don't go there, please."
"OK. You don't bring it up, and I won't."
---
"You OK, Cordy?"
"As well as I can be. Find a love, lose a love."
"You haven't lost me yet."
"Don't. Don't say it. Don't try to stop me. I can't stay in
Helltown, and you won't leave. So don't try to persuade me."
"Well, we'll still see each other? Please? You can invite me to
your first movie premiere, or we can meet half-way and dance on a
Boardwalk New Year's."
"Nice."
"And next summer we can camp out for a week near the beach and
scare off all the birds."
"With your face?" Cordelia laughed. "That would be nice."
Xander kissed Cordelia under her eyes and ran his fingers through
her hair.
"You up again?"
"I'm eighteen years old. What do you expect?"
"We're not that different. Come here."
---
"What are you going to do this summer, Will?"
"Well, a little programming, a little witchcraft, a lot of
relaxation. Hey, we deserve it. Besides, being a part-time
teacher earned me a bit."
"The band's going on tour this weekend. Sorry."
"I know. I'll survive. You'll be back in time? Do they know?"
"I will. They don't. It's going to cut down on our
opportunities."
"I can just imagine you going wolfy during a concert."
"Aah. Please don't. Anything but that."
"Well, what about?" She kissed him and whispered something in his
ear.
"Tonight. I can't now. More practice."
---
Buffy and her mother had lapsed into silence; Buffy sat on their
couch and glanced at a fashion magazine, while her mother paced
between the kitchen and the foyer. Finally, at one minute before
ten, they heard a car wheeze to a stop in their driveway.
"On time, as always."
"I get the impression that he's late only when the world is about
to come to an end."
"You're so right, Mom."
As Joyce went to open the door, the telephone rang.
"Mr. Giles--Rupert. Come in."
"Thank you--Joyce."
"Still nervous? I'm sorry. Perhaps--"
"Please think nothing of it, Joyce. Otherwise, we will never
leave."
They turned toward Buffy as she returned the phone to its cradle.
"That was some lady from the Y. They want me to lead a
self-defense course. I'm getting a little worried, Giles."
"Shall we go?"
"In your car, Giles? Do you hope to arrive before Christmas?"
"I offered, Buffy. It's my responsibility. I shall drive."
They carried their bags to Giles' car, and wedged them into its
trunk. Giles pulled out a smaller bag, closed the trunk, and
opened the doors for Joyce and Buffy. Joyce went into the
front seat.
"Hey!"
"Kids go in back, Buffy."
"Mom!"
Giles moved behind the wheel, called out "Seatbelts," and started
the car. With a wheeze and a cough, the Citroen carried them away
from Sunnydale.
---
"Checkout time, Xander."
"Damn. I could get used to this place."
"Well, it's not the Ritz, but the company's nice. You got
everything?"
"Yeah. Let's go. Where to?"
"Let's just drive."
They carried their bags to Xander's car, dropped the key off at
the front desk, and pulled onto the highway.
"Atomic turbines to speed?"
"Check."
"Bat Radio on?"
"Check." Cordelia giggled.
"That's the Boss--Cordy, punch it up."
"Check." They sang along with the radio: "Mister, I ain't a
boy. No, I'm a man. And I believe in the promised land."
---
"Well, we really sound like the epitome of crap today."
"Devon, shut up."
"Can't do that, Oz. I sing, remember. On the other hand, your
guitar playing, well, isn't."
"Dev, I don't need to hear this. Let's just start at the top
again."
"What's wrong, Oz? No sleep again? Feeling worn out? Do we need
to put a curfew on you?"
"Not another word."
"Showing some emotion, Oz? How odd of you."
Oz grabbed his guitar, held it upside down, walked over to Devon,
and gently tapped it against Devon's head. "One more dig at
Willow, and I do my Pete Townshend imitation, Dev. Shut up."
"Oz and Willow actually having sex. My illusions are gone."
"Well, you and Harmony were certainly worth a gag or two."
"Point for Oz," called out the new drummer. "From the
top. Please!"
---
Willow went home and plucked some flowers from her garden. Then,
she walked to Sunnydale Medical; the attendant at the front desk
nodded when he saw her and handed her a visitor's badge.
"Hello, Max. How are things?"
"Busy. Are you okay?"
"Just visiting other students."
"Gas leak. Sure. What really happened?"
"You don't really want to know, do you?"
"Actually, I've seen enough strange cases here the last few years
that I can pretty much guess. Anyhow, try 2 West. Most of the
high school cases were sent there."
"Oh. How many are there?"
"I think we have ten cases left; mostly broken bones and
concussions. Also, there are three in the ICU--I think a couple
won't make it. Some blood loss cases, too. By the way, could you
pass the word that we need blood donors? We're running out, and
our last few shipments have been short for some reason."
"I'll donate before I leave. I should have realized. I'll let
people know."
Willow went to the ward and chatted with the injured students and
family members, and left them the flowers she had picked. Wesley
had been sent home the day before, and Percy was being released
just as she arrived at his room. Then, she reported to the
phlebotomy center to donate a pint of her blood.
"This will sting for a moment."
"I've had worse. My friends--much worse."
The technician pricked her finger and transferred a drop of blood
onto a slide. Then, he placed the slide onto a microscope and
viewed it.
"Your blood count is normal, Miss Rosenberg. Now, if you just lie
upon this couch, we'll perform the procedure. Have you ever done
this before?"
"No, but I know what's going on. Don't worry; just do it."
"Ok. You'll feel a pinch, and maybe a dull ache for a bit."
"Aah. OK."
"Good. Now, make a fist and release it a few times."
"Like this?"
"Fine. Now, just relax. This should take about ten minutes. I'm
going to set up for the next donor, but I'll be looking in on
you. Thank you for helping."
The technician got up and left the room, and then Willow heard a
soft voice from the couch next to her.
"Willow Rosenberg?"
"Yes." Willow turned her head. "Jonathon?" He was half-way
through his blood donation.
"Uh-huh. Hey, thanks for coming here."
"Well, I have friends still here, and the hospital needs blood."
"I know." Jonathon closed his eyes and shivered.
"What's wrong?"
"Larry just died, you know."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I've been a bit distracted."
"Yeah. I could have just gone home and cried, but I'm tired of
that. I've spent years doing that. So, I decided to do something
useful instead." He looked miserable.
"It's not wrong to cry. Were you friends?"
"I don't think he had many friends. We talked a few times in the
last few weeks after he came out and after I nearly--"
"I know. I didn't mean to remind you."
"No, it's OK. I was going to kill myself, and Buffy saved me. But
the thing I hate most about this--he didn't leave anything behind
him. Who's going to remember high school stories, especially when
the school doesn't exist any more?"
"Jon, you remember him."
"He wanted to write, but what could an eighteen-year-old write?
What would I have left behind if I had killed myself? Not much."
"Well, that's why you have to live and to remember. This isn't a
town for happy endings."
"They wouldn't even use him as an organ donor. The doctors asked,
his father told them that Larry was gay, and they stopped
asking."
"AIDS."
"Yeah, they're scared of that. So, eighteen years of life goes
completely to waste. He's too young to have actually done
anything. It's as if he never existed. Do you ever feel that way
about someone?"
"Yeah. There's going to be a funeral, right? At least you'll have
a place to remember him by. Now, Jesse--Jesse, Xander, and I were
best buds as kids--there wasn't anything left of him."
"Uh, how?"
"Well, Sunnydale--"
"What is it with this place anyway? What was happening at
graduation?"
They fell silent as the technician returned to remove the needle
from Jonathon and to give him some orange juice.
"I'll be back in five more minutes, Miss Rosenberg."
"Thank you." The technician left.
"So, what is it with Sunnydale?"
"Do you believe in magic and monsters, Jon?"
"I used to believe only in human monsters, Willow. I'm not
blind."
"If only we just had human monsters here. Sunnydale sits atop a
Hellmouth, a portal from the Earth to Hell. Vampires are
attracted to it. Demons try to open it. And sorcerors come to
gain power from it. And then there's the weird stuff."
"Vampires. I saw them, but--"
"Yeah, I know. And I thought all I had to worry about was being a
nerd."
"So, vampires? A vampire killed Jesse?"
"Yeah. It turned Jesse into one of them. Xander had to stake
him. Poof. 'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.'"
"Damn. And, Buffy?"
"It's hard to explain. As long as vampires have existed, there
has been one girl in the world with the special gifts to fight
them and the other evils of the night. It's really a curse,
though; it's burning her up inside. She's seen and done so much,
and she's heartsick. We try to be there for her, but we can't
really understand. And it will go on until she dies."
The technician returned to unhook Willow from the machine; she
was sipping her orange juice when Jonathon continued shyly:
"Can I help her or you? Could you tell me some of the things
you've done? I may not be able to help much, but I could
listen. You must be a little heartsick too."
"That's--yes. Let's get lunch, and we'll talk. And you can tell
me about yourself. And Larry." She tried to get up: "Ooh, dizzy
here." They sat down for a minute and tried again. This time,
they made it out of the room and the hospital.
---
"Rupert, do you have anything to read?"
"Of course he has something to read, Mom. He's Giles. You
probably shouldn't read them, though."
"Did you think I'd be bringing any of those books with me, Buffy?
This is a holiday."
"I'm sorry, Giles."
"Look in the bag at your feet, Joyce."
Joyce opened the bag and let out a gasp.
"Oh, dear. Force of habit, I guess."
"You used your weapons bag, Giles? That's rude."
"I find it fascinating. I notice that the weapons are on top. I
guess when you need them, you need them fast."
"It's a sad priority, Joyce."
"Stakes. A tiny crossbow. Is that dagger silver?"
"Giles, keeping silver daggers? Should I tell Oz?"
"What he doesn't know won't hurt me, Buffy."
"Holy water? Should I get some too?"
"I'll lend you some, Mom."
"A copper axe?"
"For Earth demons, Joyce."
"How do you fit all this in such a tiny bag?"
"Magic. They call it the TARDIS spell."
"Giles, you're joking, right?"
"God's own truth, Buffy. Would I lie to you?"
"Yes."
"I'm truly hurt, Buffy. The bag's also protected against X-ray
machines and the like."
"An iron chain? A golden flute? A laser pointer--that doesn't
fit."
"So that's where it was."
"Brass knuckles? Handcuffs? I thought I had those, Ripper."
"Mom!"
"I realized it would be a good idea to get a set."
"That's a very, er, impressive first aid kit. You really ought to
restock, though."
"Giles, don't tell me you've run out of Tylenol 3 again."
"Sorry."
"He's registered for Frequent Flyer miles at the Sunnydale MRI
Center, Mom."
"Oh. Ah, books. The Hundred Days, by Patrick O'Brian. Have you
read the entire series?"
"From the very beginning, Joyce. It's probably not the one to
start with."
"Emma, by Jane Austen?"
"I read it once a year. Buffy probably only saw that modern
adaptation of it: 'Clueless,' I think."
"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, by J. K. Rowling? I
thought that was a children's book."
"Many adults like it too. It's the British printing, by the way."
"Well, I'll read Emma. Would you like the Potter book, Buffy?"
Buffy sighed. "I might as well; I won't get much conversation
from you for a while."
"Gee, thanks."
About five minutes later, Joyce started chanting, "Exterminate,
exterminate." Giles pulled the car to the shoulder and started
laughing.
"Have you two gone mad?"
---
They sat on a beach in the middle of nowhere plotting the futures
of their old classmates.
"Aura?" asked Xander.
"Personal shopper, Encino Nieman-Marcus. Marries a coke-addicted
dentist. Has three kids, never gets the weight off. Kyle?"
"His juvenile record gets sealed; after all, how could anyone
explain eating a school principal?"
"That's happened twice, you know."
"Right. He becomes a cop in LA, marries a barmaid, beats her,
takes bribes, and eventually eats his gun. Wes?"
"No! Not fair."
"Sorry. Owen."
"Who?"
"I told you, remember? The guy who thought fighting vampires was
romantic."
"Oh. Goes to college, tries to write artsy poems that make no
sense. No one reads them. Switches to writing occult fiction
under a pen name. No one reads them. Drives a cab. Anya."
"Ouch! Do I deserve that?"
"Yes, but I'll let it slide this time. Jonathon?"
"Ooh. Hard one. Nearly killing yourself will change a man, I
hope."
"Me too."
"Okay. He wakes up. He goes to college, he goes into advertising,
and he ends up a VP at Hallmark Cards."
"Ha!"
"You have a better idea?"
"No. Your pick."
They continued their game as the afternoon went on, though they
never plotted their own futures, or those of the Scooby Gang.
"Well, we'd better find a place to stay, Cor."
"Yeah. I've got plans for you."
"Ravishing my geeky body?"
"Not exactly."
"Having me ravish your sexy body?"
"More like it, X."
---
"It's just that I looked at Larry and I thought I should be lying
there, not him."
"No, Jon." Willow and Jonathon had walked to the Sunnydale town
center and had lunch at Bucky's; now they sat on a bench in front
of the ice cream parlor finishing hot fudge sundaes. "You know it
was just so random there. Like a lottery."
"Larry fought him, and I just knocked something down and
ran. Hell, as soon as I could, I just ran. I was just so scared."
"No. You did not deserve to die, and he didn't deserve it
either. None of us did. We can't all fight, Jon. I couldn't."
"Cordelia did."
"We can't all be warriors; do you think that's all the world
needs? No one blames you for being scared. I was scared. I have
spent much of the last three years completely terrified. And, ask
Buffy sometime. God, her life sucks."
"But."
"No. There's no blame here, except for the Mayor, of course."
"I have to do something; I can't just go on ignoring everything."
"You were going to, you know. Death is rather final. Oops,
except for here."
"No, that's over."
They finished their bowls, and walked back toward Willow's house.
"I have to do something. Tell me, Willow, do you believe in God
and Heaven?"
"Strange. I know Hell exists; I'm not certain about Heaven. And,
God? He seems rather distant this week."
"Well, I was thinking. If we want a Heaven for us, don't we have
to remember them first?"
"I don't see."
"Is there going to be a memorial service for Larry, for those who
died? For the school?"
"I don't know of any."
"Could you help me set one up?"
"Yes."
"I'll call the prom committee, or what's left of them. Can you
try to get a location?"
"Of course. I'll canvass the churches and synagogues."
"When should we have it?"
"Not until next week; Buffy's mom carted her away. She won't be
back until Sunday."
"Can I use your phone? "
"Of course."
---
Buffy held up the book and laughed. "Did you go to a school like
that, Giles?"
"I'm afraid not, Buffy. As far as I know, Hogwarts is purely
fiction."
"I'm amazed to see Buffy reading."
"Mom."
"You are being unfair, Joyce. Remember her SAT scores."
"Sorry, hon."
"Giles, could you pull into the next rest stop? I need to freshen
up."
"Of course. I'll make hotel reservations."
Ten minutes later, Giles and Joyce were in the lobby of a crowded
building. Buffy had run ahead of them, and now they stood amid
the noise and confusion of a fast-food cafeteria.
"I hope you're not thinking of dining here, Joyce."
"Not I. We should think about where we'll stay tonight."
"How much more driving should we do?"
"I could stand about an hour more. Why don't we make reservations
now. I hope we don't go broke this week."
"I'm not as poor as you would think; I do have some family
money."
"A remittance man? Ripper gets 1,000 pounds a month as long as he
stays away?"
"Not quite."
"Oh."
"800 L."
Joyce laughed, and Giles joined her. They went to the hotel kiosk
and made a selection.
"Two rooms, right?"
"Right."
---
"It used to be that I'd camp out in the backyard but be able to
use the kitchen and bathroom."
"I'm still not sure whether it's worth camping out to be here
with you."
"No sense of adventure, Cordy?"
"Please, Xander. I think I've had all adventure burnt out of me."
"You'll recover. Though I hope we never need to deal with
anything like that again."
"I don't see how it's possible."
"Hellmouth. Well, let's have dinner."
"Never change, Xander."
---
"Hi, Mom."
"Hello. And you are?"
"Jonathon."
"Jon and I are working on a project for school."
"School? Oh. Should I make dinner for the two of you?"
"It's not necessary, Mrs. Rosenberg; I'll get a bite to eat
later."
"No, Jon. Please stay. You're entitled. A member of the gang."
"Probationary, I hope." Mrs. Rosenberg went into the kitchen.
"Your choice."
"She doesn't know?"
"She probably thinks we mean college. I don't ask any more. Helen
Keller was more aware of her environment than my mom is."
"Back to work. Could you call the choir leader? I'll call the
head of the school band. I think he's still alive."
"What a world."
---
"Ah, we have arrived."
"Just a happy little family on holiday."
"Mom, do you know what you're saying?"
"I think, Buffy, that your friends would roll their eyes and say
'Duh.'"
"Let's get our rooms, wash up and have dinner."
"Rooms? Two rooms?"
"Yes." "Uh-hunh."
"Who stays where?"
Giles and Joyce looked appalled.
"Staring again."
"Well, I like." Morning light streamed through Oz's window;
Willow thought he glowed.
"I'm not going away, you know."
"I know. I still worry."
"Don't." Oz tapped the bed next to him. "Come back. Lie down."
She did. "What is it, babe?"
"I still don't believe--"
"Willow?"
"I was alone for so long; I didn't think I'd ever be unalone."
"You deserve everything, Will. You show me what I can do. You
make me brave. I can't hide from you; you tease out my
secrets. And, you smell nice too."
Willow giggled a bit, but went somber again. "But, I don't
deserve."
"No, Willow."
"But, I--I betrayed you."
"And I've forgiven you. I don't want to hear any more talk of
forgiveness here. Just, why can't you forgive yourself?"
"There has to be something evil in me for me to do that."
"No, Willow. Confused, yes. Not evil. But, no more. You are our
conscience."
"Jiminy Cricket, that's me."
"But, there's a time when you have to stop punishing
yourself. When's Yom Kippur anyway?"
Willow softly punched herself over her heart and started to
recite the Vidui, the Yom Kippur short confession.
"But, you do not punish yourself any more. You do what you think
is right, and I will trust you. Forever. But remember exactly
what I have inside me."
"Yeah. You have a new cage yet?"
"Aunt and Uncle are working on it. I spoke with them yesterday."
"Good."
"Are there Jewish werewolves?"
"Only if we're not very, very careful."
"Shall we practice being careful?"
"Safe sex really has a different meaning here on the Hellmouth."
"Well, I could wear my mittens. And a mouth guard."
"Don't forget socks."
"And socks."
"Don't you dare."
"Well, this thing at least."
---
Buffy and her mother were in their kitchen, preparing sandwiches
and pouring drinks into travel jugs. Mrs. Summers' favorite
vacation song came from the CD player:
Quitting Time,
Quitting Time,
Quitting Time,
Quitting Time.
Money is not the problem,
You have enough of that....
Quitting Time
The Roches
"You okay with this, Mom?"
"I feel a little strange. I remember everything we did, but I
don't recognize myself in those memories."
"Do you have any sympathy for me, and all the stupid things I've
done?"
"Yes, but I'd still ground you every time."
"Well, I'm moving out in three months. But, seriously, are you
wigged out by all this? Or by my knowing about it?"
"A little. I mean, your father and I tried to hide our sex lives
from you, and there was nothing illicit or dishonorable about
that. It's a little daunting for me to know that you work every
day with someone I've been intimate with."
"Well, he hides 'Ripper' pretty well. I hope he's ok with it,
with us."
"He'll be okay."
"I don't know, mom. He keeps a lot inside him; when it comes out,
I duck. Do you know, he ran the Mayor through with a sword? It
didn't hurt Wilkins at all, however."
"Oh. And you, how do you feel about all this?"
"Well, I have trouble with the concept of you having sex. Of
course, I'm not 11; I don't think you only had sex once in your
life, nineteen years ago."
"Grow up, dear."
"But, you and Giles? I mean, there's no reason you shouldn't, but
the thought makes me wiggy."
"You sound jealous."
"Mom."
"Really. You sound jealous."
"Don't go there, please."
"OK. You don't bring it up, and I won't."
---
"You OK, Cordy?"
"As well as I can be. Find a love, lose a love."
"You haven't lost me yet."
"Don't. Don't say it. Don't try to stop me. I can't stay in
Helltown, and you won't leave. So don't try to persuade me."
"Well, we'll still see each other? Please? You can invite me to
your first movie premiere, or we can meet half-way and dance on a
Boardwalk New Year's."
"Nice."
"And next summer we can camp out for a week near the beach and
scare off all the birds."
"With your face?" Cordelia laughed. "That would be nice."
Xander kissed Cordelia under her eyes and ran his fingers through
her hair.
"You up again?"
"I'm eighteen years old. What do you expect?"
"We're not that different. Come here."
---
"What are you going to do this summer, Will?"
"Well, a little programming, a little witchcraft, a lot of
relaxation. Hey, we deserve it. Besides, being a part-time
teacher earned me a bit."
"The band's going on tour this weekend. Sorry."
"I know. I'll survive. You'll be back in time? Do they know?"
"I will. They don't. It's going to cut down on our
opportunities."
"I can just imagine you going wolfy during a concert."
"Aah. Please don't. Anything but that."
"Well, what about?" She kissed him and whispered something in his
ear.
"Tonight. I can't now. More practice."
---
Buffy and her mother had lapsed into silence; Buffy sat on their
couch and glanced at a fashion magazine, while her mother paced
between the kitchen and the foyer. Finally, at one minute before
ten, they heard a car wheeze to a stop in their driveway.
"On time, as always."
"I get the impression that he's late only when the world is about
to come to an end."
"You're so right, Mom."
As Joyce went to open the door, the telephone rang.
"Mr. Giles--Rupert. Come in."
"Thank you--Joyce."
"Still nervous? I'm sorry. Perhaps--"
"Please think nothing of it, Joyce. Otherwise, we will never
leave."
They turned toward Buffy as she returned the phone to its cradle.
"That was some lady from the Y. They want me to lead a
self-defense course. I'm getting a little worried, Giles."
"Shall we go?"
"In your car, Giles? Do you hope to arrive before Christmas?"
"I offered, Buffy. It's my responsibility. I shall drive."
They carried their bags to Giles' car, and wedged them into its
trunk. Giles pulled out a smaller bag, closed the trunk, and
opened the doors for Joyce and Buffy. Joyce went into the
front seat.
"Hey!"
"Kids go in back, Buffy."
"Mom!"
Giles moved behind the wheel, called out "Seatbelts," and started
the car. With a wheeze and a cough, the Citroen carried them away
from Sunnydale.
---
"Checkout time, Xander."
"Damn. I could get used to this place."
"Well, it's not the Ritz, but the company's nice. You got
everything?"
"Yeah. Let's go. Where to?"
"Let's just drive."
They carried their bags to Xander's car, dropped the key off at
the front desk, and pulled onto the highway.
"Atomic turbines to speed?"
"Check."
"Bat Radio on?"
"Check." Cordelia giggled.
"That's the Boss--Cordy, punch it up."
"Check." They sang along with the radio: "Mister, I ain't a
boy. No, I'm a man. And I believe in the promised land."
---
"Well, we really sound like the epitome of crap today."
"Devon, shut up."
"Can't do that, Oz. I sing, remember. On the other hand, your
guitar playing, well, isn't."
"Dev, I don't need to hear this. Let's just start at the top
again."
"What's wrong, Oz? No sleep again? Feeling worn out? Do we need
to put a curfew on you?"
"Not another word."
"Showing some emotion, Oz? How odd of you."
Oz grabbed his guitar, held it upside down, walked over to Devon,
and gently tapped it against Devon's head. "One more dig at
Willow, and I do my Pete Townshend imitation, Dev. Shut up."
"Oz and Willow actually having sex. My illusions are gone."
"Well, you and Harmony were certainly worth a gag or two."
"Point for Oz," called out the new drummer. "From the
top. Please!"
---
Willow went home and plucked some flowers from her garden. Then,
she walked to Sunnydale Medical; the attendant at the front desk
nodded when he saw her and handed her a visitor's badge.
"Hello, Max. How are things?"
"Busy. Are you okay?"
"Just visiting other students."
"Gas leak. Sure. What really happened?"
"You don't really want to know, do you?"
"Actually, I've seen enough strange cases here the last few years
that I can pretty much guess. Anyhow, try 2 West. Most of the
high school cases were sent there."
"Oh. How many are there?"
"I think we have ten cases left; mostly broken bones and
concussions. Also, there are three in the ICU--I think a couple
won't make it. Some blood loss cases, too. By the way, could you
pass the word that we need blood donors? We're running out, and
our last few shipments have been short for some reason."
"I'll donate before I leave. I should have realized. I'll let
people know."
Willow went to the ward and chatted with the injured students and
family members, and left them the flowers she had picked. Wesley
had been sent home the day before, and Percy was being released
just as she arrived at his room. Then, she reported to the
phlebotomy center to donate a pint of her blood.
"This will sting for a moment."
"I've had worse. My friends--much worse."
The technician pricked her finger and transferred a drop of blood
onto a slide. Then, he placed the slide onto a microscope and
viewed it.
"Your blood count is normal, Miss Rosenberg. Now, if you just lie
upon this couch, we'll perform the procedure. Have you ever done
this before?"
"No, but I know what's going on. Don't worry; just do it."
"Ok. You'll feel a pinch, and maybe a dull ache for a bit."
"Aah. OK."
"Good. Now, make a fist and release it a few times."
"Like this?"
"Fine. Now, just relax. This should take about ten minutes. I'm
going to set up for the next donor, but I'll be looking in on
you. Thank you for helping."
The technician got up and left the room, and then Willow heard a
soft voice from the couch next to her.
"Willow Rosenberg?"
"Yes." Willow turned her head. "Jonathon?" He was half-way
through his blood donation.
"Uh-huh. Hey, thanks for coming here."
"Well, I have friends still here, and the hospital needs blood."
"I know." Jonathon closed his eyes and shivered.
"What's wrong?"
"Larry just died, you know."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know. I've been a bit distracted."
"Yeah. I could have just gone home and cried, but I'm tired of
that. I've spent years doing that. So, I decided to do something
useful instead." He looked miserable.
"It's not wrong to cry. Were you friends?"
"I don't think he had many friends. We talked a few times in the
last few weeks after he came out and after I nearly--"
"I know. I didn't mean to remind you."
"No, it's OK. I was going to kill myself, and Buffy saved me. But
the thing I hate most about this--he didn't leave anything behind
him. Who's going to remember high school stories, especially when
the school doesn't exist any more?"
"Jon, you remember him."
"He wanted to write, but what could an eighteen-year-old write?
What would I have left behind if I had killed myself? Not much."
"Well, that's why you have to live and to remember. This isn't a
town for happy endings."
"They wouldn't even use him as an organ donor. The doctors asked,
his father told them that Larry was gay, and they stopped
asking."
"AIDS."
"Yeah, they're scared of that. So, eighteen years of life goes
completely to waste. He's too young to have actually done
anything. It's as if he never existed. Do you ever feel that way
about someone?"
"Yeah. There's going to be a funeral, right? At least you'll have
a place to remember him by. Now, Jesse--Jesse, Xander, and I were
best buds as kids--there wasn't anything left of him."
"Uh, how?"
"Well, Sunnydale--"
"What is it with this place anyway? What was happening at
graduation?"
They fell silent as the technician returned to remove the needle
from Jonathon and to give him some orange juice.
"I'll be back in five more minutes, Miss Rosenberg."
"Thank you." The technician left.
"So, what is it with Sunnydale?"
"Do you believe in magic and monsters, Jon?"
"I used to believe only in human monsters, Willow. I'm not
blind."
"If only we just had human monsters here. Sunnydale sits atop a
Hellmouth, a portal from the Earth to Hell. Vampires are
attracted to it. Demons try to open it. And sorcerors come to
gain power from it. And then there's the weird stuff."
"Vampires. I saw them, but--"
"Yeah, I know. And I thought all I had to worry about was being a
nerd."
"So, vampires? A vampire killed Jesse?"
"Yeah. It turned Jesse into one of them. Xander had to stake
him. Poof. 'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.'"
"Damn. And, Buffy?"
"It's hard to explain. As long as vampires have existed, there
has been one girl in the world with the special gifts to fight
them and the other evils of the night. It's really a curse,
though; it's burning her up inside. She's seen and done so much,
and she's heartsick. We try to be there for her, but we can't
really understand. And it will go on until she dies."
The technician returned to unhook Willow from the machine; she
was sipping her orange juice when Jonathon continued shyly:
"Can I help her or you? Could you tell me some of the things
you've done? I may not be able to help much, but I could
listen. You must be a little heartsick too."
"That's--yes. Let's get lunch, and we'll talk. And you can tell
me about yourself. And Larry." She tried to get up: "Ooh, dizzy
here." They sat down for a minute and tried again. This time,
they made it out of the room and the hospital.
---
"Rupert, do you have anything to read?"
"Of course he has something to read, Mom. He's Giles. You
probably shouldn't read them, though."
"Did you think I'd be bringing any of those books with me, Buffy?
This is a holiday."
"I'm sorry, Giles."
"Look in the bag at your feet, Joyce."
Joyce opened the bag and let out a gasp.
"Oh, dear. Force of habit, I guess."
"You used your weapons bag, Giles? That's rude."
"I find it fascinating. I notice that the weapons are on top. I
guess when you need them, you need them fast."
"It's a sad priority, Joyce."
"Stakes. A tiny crossbow. Is that dagger silver?"
"Giles, keeping silver daggers? Should I tell Oz?"
"What he doesn't know won't hurt me, Buffy."
"Holy water? Should I get some too?"
"I'll lend you some, Mom."
"A copper axe?"
"For Earth demons, Joyce."
"How do you fit all this in such a tiny bag?"
"Magic. They call it the TARDIS spell."
"Giles, you're joking, right?"
"God's own truth, Buffy. Would I lie to you?"
"Yes."
"I'm truly hurt, Buffy. The bag's also protected against X-ray
machines and the like."
"An iron chain? A golden flute? A laser pointer--that doesn't
fit."
"So that's where it was."
"Brass knuckles? Handcuffs? I thought I had those, Ripper."
"Mom!"
"I realized it would be a good idea to get a set."
"That's a very, er, impressive first aid kit. You really ought to
restock, though."
"Giles, don't tell me you've run out of Tylenol 3 again."
"Sorry."
"He's registered for Frequent Flyer miles at the Sunnydale MRI
Center, Mom."
"Oh. Ah, books. The Hundred Days, by Patrick O'Brian. Have you
read the entire series?"
"From the very beginning, Joyce. It's probably not the one to
start with."
"Emma, by Jane Austen?"
"I read it once a year. Buffy probably only saw that modern
adaptation of it: 'Clueless,' I think."
"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, by J. K. Rowling? I
thought that was a children's book."
"Many adults like it too. It's the British printing, by the way."
"Well, I'll read Emma. Would you like the Potter book, Buffy?"
Buffy sighed. "I might as well; I won't get much conversation
from you for a while."
"Gee, thanks."
About five minutes later, Joyce started chanting, "Exterminate,
exterminate." Giles pulled the car to the shoulder and started
laughing.
"Have you two gone mad?"
---
They sat on a beach in the middle of nowhere plotting the futures
of their old classmates.
"Aura?" asked Xander.
"Personal shopper, Encino Nieman-Marcus. Marries a coke-addicted
dentist. Has three kids, never gets the weight off. Kyle?"
"His juvenile record gets sealed; after all, how could anyone
explain eating a school principal?"
"That's happened twice, you know."
"Right. He becomes a cop in LA, marries a barmaid, beats her,
takes bribes, and eventually eats his gun. Wes?"
"No! Not fair."
"Sorry. Owen."
"Who?"
"I told you, remember? The guy who thought fighting vampires was
romantic."
"Oh. Goes to college, tries to write artsy poems that make no
sense. No one reads them. Switches to writing occult fiction
under a pen name. No one reads them. Drives a cab. Anya."
"Ouch! Do I deserve that?"
"Yes, but I'll let it slide this time. Jonathon?"
"Ooh. Hard one. Nearly killing yourself will change a man, I
hope."
"Me too."
"Okay. He wakes up. He goes to college, he goes into advertising,
and he ends up a VP at Hallmark Cards."
"Ha!"
"You have a better idea?"
"No. Your pick."
They continued their game as the afternoon went on, though they
never plotted their own futures, or those of the Scooby Gang.
"Well, we'd better find a place to stay, Cor."
"Yeah. I've got plans for you."
"Ravishing my geeky body?"
"Not exactly."
"Having me ravish your sexy body?"
"More like it, X."
---
"It's just that I looked at Larry and I thought I should be lying
there, not him."
"No, Jon." Willow and Jonathon had walked to the Sunnydale town
center and had lunch at Bucky's; now they sat on a bench in front
of the ice cream parlor finishing hot fudge sundaes. "You know it
was just so random there. Like a lottery."
"Larry fought him, and I just knocked something down and
ran. Hell, as soon as I could, I just ran. I was just so scared."
"No. You did not deserve to die, and he didn't deserve it
either. None of us did. We can't all fight, Jon. I couldn't."
"Cordelia did."
"We can't all be warriors; do you think that's all the world
needs? No one blames you for being scared. I was scared. I have
spent much of the last three years completely terrified. And, ask
Buffy sometime. God, her life sucks."
"But."
"No. There's no blame here, except for the Mayor, of course."
"I have to do something; I can't just go on ignoring everything."
"You were going to, you know. Death is rather final. Oops,
except for here."
"No, that's over."
They finished their bowls, and walked back toward Willow's house.
"I have to do something. Tell me, Willow, do you believe in God
and Heaven?"
"Strange. I know Hell exists; I'm not certain about Heaven. And,
God? He seems rather distant this week."
"Well, I was thinking. If we want a Heaven for us, don't we have
to remember them first?"
"I don't see."
"Is there going to be a memorial service for Larry, for those who
died? For the school?"
"I don't know of any."
"Could you help me set one up?"
"Yes."
"I'll call the prom committee, or what's left of them. Can you
try to get a location?"
"Of course. I'll canvass the churches and synagogues."
"When should we have it?"
"Not until next week; Buffy's mom carted her away. She won't be
back until Sunday."
"Can I use your phone? "
"Of course."
---
Buffy held up the book and laughed. "Did you go to a school like
that, Giles?"
"I'm afraid not, Buffy. As far as I know, Hogwarts is purely
fiction."
"I'm amazed to see Buffy reading."
"Mom."
"You are being unfair, Joyce. Remember her SAT scores."
"Sorry, hon."
"Giles, could you pull into the next rest stop? I need to freshen
up."
"Of course. I'll make hotel reservations."
Ten minutes later, Giles and Joyce were in the lobby of a crowded
building. Buffy had run ahead of them, and now they stood amid
the noise and confusion of a fast-food cafeteria.
"I hope you're not thinking of dining here, Joyce."
"Not I. We should think about where we'll stay tonight."
"How much more driving should we do?"
"I could stand about an hour more. Why don't we make reservations
now. I hope we don't go broke this week."
"I'm not as poor as you would think; I do have some family
money."
"A remittance man? Ripper gets 1,000 pounds a month as long as he
stays away?"
"Not quite."
"Oh."
"800 L."
Joyce laughed, and Giles joined her. They went to the hotel kiosk
and made a selection.
"Two rooms, right?"
"Right."
---
"It used to be that I'd camp out in the backyard but be able to
use the kitchen and bathroom."
"I'm still not sure whether it's worth camping out to be here
with you."
"No sense of adventure, Cordy?"
"Please, Xander. I think I've had all adventure burnt out of me."
"You'll recover. Though I hope we never need to deal with
anything like that again."
"I don't see how it's possible."
"Hellmouth. Well, let's have dinner."
"Never change, Xander."
---
"Hi, Mom."
"Hello. And you are?"
"Jonathon."
"Jon and I are working on a project for school."
"School? Oh. Should I make dinner for the two of you?"
"It's not necessary, Mrs. Rosenberg; I'll get a bite to eat
later."
"No, Jon. Please stay. You're entitled. A member of the gang."
"Probationary, I hope." Mrs. Rosenberg went into the kitchen.
"Your choice."
"She doesn't know?"
"She probably thinks we mean college. I don't ask any more. Helen
Keller was more aware of her environment than my mom is."
"Back to work. Could you call the choir leader? I'll call the
head of the school band. I think he's still alive."
"What a world."
---
"Ah, we have arrived."
"Just a happy little family on holiday."
"Mom, do you know what you're saying?"
"I think, Buffy, that your friends would roll their eyes and say
'Duh.'"
"Let's get our rooms, wash up and have dinner."
"Rooms? Two rooms?"
"Yes." "Uh-hunh."
"Who stays where?"
Giles and Joyce looked appalled.
