FIRST THREAD: Part Twelve
"I don't find that even slightly amusing, Xander," Giles said, a bit angrily.
"Hey, do I look like I'm joking?" Xander countered.
The Watcher regarded the young man for just a moment, taking in his appearance. He was holding the icepack Giles gave him against the left side of his forehead where an abrasive bruise testified to the rough encounter he had with the vampire last night.
"Giles, I'm telling you it was her!"
"Xander," Giles said, in a calmer tone. "I'm sure you think you saw her. You did say this vampire hit you hard. More than likely you must have imagined it when you hit your head."
"Then explain to me, Giles, how I was able to fight off and stake a vampire while I was dreaming and didn't have a stake with me?"
This actually caused the Watcher to pause and he seemed to consider what Xander just said. But he quickly shook his head slightly, closing his eyes. "I don't have time for this right now, Xander. We have bigger problems right now."
Xander couldn't believe what he was hearing. If there was anyone who should be happier to have Buffy back he would have figured it to be Giles. "More important than the fact that Buffy, who has been *dead* for over five months is somehow back from--?!"
"That's enough!" Giles said, in a raised voice.
Surprised, Xander closed his mouth and glared at Giles but the older man would not meet his eyes as he leaned his fists on the surface of the table. He could see the pain Giles was trying to hide and a small part of him understood what he might be going through, but the rest of him was more than a little upset that his friend wouldn't even consider that he might be telling the truth.
"Fine," Xander said, in a low voice. He lowered the ice pack from his head and dropped it on top of the table.
He turned and started out of the library. Giles watched him go but Xander didn't look back. He was almost to the double doors when one of them swung open and Willow stepped inside with Oz. Xander's condition immediately caught their attention.
"Xander!" Willow said.
"You okay, man?" asked Oz.
"I'm fine," Xander replied, brusquely. He didn't even slow down as he swung the other door open and left.
"Wait--" Willow tried to say but the door was already swinging closed behind him. She exchanged a look with Oz.
"That was interesting," Oz said, in his deadpan tone of voice.
They walked over to Giles where he was still leaning on the table.
"Giles, what happened to Xander?" Willow asked.
Giles finally straightened, removing his glasses and seemed to put more attention in polishing the lenses with a handkerchief so he wouldn't have to look directly at them.
"Uh, yes. He was attacked last night. A vampire."
Willow gasped silently. "Is he okay?" She shook her head. "Uh, I mean, I know we just saw him so we know he's okay in the `yay, he's alive!' kinda way. But . . . he seemed a little . . . ."
"Not in the mood for celebrating his not being dead?" Oz suggested. Willow nodded.
"Well, it was, uh, pretty rough for him," Giles began. It seemed as if he was going to say more, but then decided against it. "He's just a little upset." Changing the subject, he continued. "But I'm afraid we do have bigger problems."
"So it's pretty much a normal day, then?" Oz commented.
Giles didn't respond to that. Putting his glasses back on, he said, "There was quite a bit of vampire actitivity last night. Kendra and Faith also ran into a group who I believe are the ones we're looking for."
"That's good," Willow said. Then seeing Giles' expression, "Isn't it?"
"They did slay all of them."
"Oh, well that is good!"
"But their master is still alive."
"Oh," Willow said, crestfallen
"But we know who their master is."
"Oh! Well then that is g--" she stopped and looked back and forth at Oz and Giles. "I'm just going to . . ."
She sat down in one of the chairs and folded her hands in her lap and remained quiet, smiling sweetly.
"So there's a new master guy in town?" Oz said.
"Yes. His name is Kakistos, which is Greek: means `worst of the worst.' He's a very old vampire. So old, in fact, that his hands and feet are cloven."
Oz sat down in a chair beside Willow. "Sounds like an attractive guy."
"Indeed."
"I guess it was lucky for us that Faith arrived when she did," Willow spoke up. "I'd hate to imagine how dangerous it would be for Kendra to have to face this guy by herself."
"Yes," Giles said, with a thoughtful expression. "Or perhaps it was more fortunate for Faith."
Narrowing her eyebrows, Willow asked, "What do you mean?"
Giles began to slowly pace the side of the table. "It's just the way Kendra described the attack. There were four of them and they all went after Faith."
If there was one thing Kendra could be depended on that would be giving very descriptive reports on her patrols, even for uneventful patrols. Buffy had often accused Giles of using more words than necessary for his own lectures and, many times, had her pratically begging him to send her on patrol before he put her to sleep from boredom. It was ironic, Giles thought with a tinge of pain, that he found himself having to resist the urge to hurry Kendra to finish up her reports.
And then there was the way Faith had fought the creatures. Kendra did not believe in recounting events other than the way they actually happened, so she hadn't pulled any punches in her observation of Faith's slaying performance. In fact, she made sure to point out everything the new Slayer did wrong.
Even though Kendra hadn't said so, he was more then confident that. . . .
"It was almost as if they were ignoring her completely. They didn't take notice of Kendra until she joined the fight."
"Do you think they went after Faith for a specific reason?" Oz asked.
"It's seems likely."
"And they also happened to show up about the same time the new Slayer arrives in town?" Willow added.
"It is rather a curious coincidence," Giles agreed.
"Only problem with that . . ." Willow said.
"Nothing ever happens by coincidence here," Oz finished.
"There is that," Giles nodded, his eyebrows etched with concern. "I think I need to have a talk with Faith about this."
"You?!" Willow said, in surprise. From the look he shot her, she said, "Uh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant, uh . . . . . . you?!"
"I have some experience with dealing with a Slayer," Giles said, a bit slighted.
"I know," Willow said, apologetically. "It's just . . . . Well, being a Watcher you are an authority figure, even though you're not Faith's Watcher. Don't you think it would be better if Kendra talked to Faith?"
She looked at the expressions on Giles and Oz's faces --although Oz's expression hadn't changed she could tell he was thinking the same thing the Watcher was.
"I know," she agreed. "It's not really a good idea, considering Kendra's lack of people skills experience, but I'm just saying it might be better if Faith heard these questions from another Slayer. Someone she can relate to."
Giles expression softened. "You're right. Of course. I'm just concerned that Kendra may not be able to . . ." He trailed off with a sigh. "Well, if Faith is in trouble, Kendra may accidentally say something that might frighten her off. But I'll contact Faith's Watcher at the retreat, she'll know Faith better than anyone."
Willow nodded in agreement.
***
None of the occupants in the library noticed the face peering through one of the round windows of the double doors from the hallway. Silently, Kendra took a step away from the doors, her expression stoic. She had heard everything that was said.
She turned her head to the right and saw Cordelia far down the hallway heading towards her in quick strides. Kendra turned and walked away from the library in the opposite direction.
***
"We'll wait until then to ask Kendra to talk to Faith," Giles continued. "At least then we'll be better prepared. In the meantime you two should hurry to your next classes."
Willow and Oz stood up as Giles started towards his office to make the long distance call when Cordelia stormed into the library.
"All right!" she demanded. "What did you guys do to Xander?"
"What?" Willow said. "Oh! No *we* didn't beat him up! That was--"
"A vampire, I know!" the tall brunette said, impatiently. "He told me that. But he just ditched school and he wouldn't tell me what's going on." She put a hand on her chest. "Me!? He's *supposed* to tell me everything!"
As one, the three teenagers turned to look at Giles who had stopped just a few feet from his office. He took in their expressions. He released a breath. "Oh, dear," he said, softly.
"I really didn't want to bring this up now," he said. "What with all the problems we have. Es-especially this delicate situation Kendra must deal with--"
"Well, she was just out in the hall," Cordelia cut in. "So I guess she's going to handle whatever it was."
Giles blinked twiced as the information sank in. "What? You saw Kendra standing outside, just now?"
Nonchalant, Cordelia said, "You guys didn't see her? She was right at the door. Then she took off in a hurry."
Oz and Willow looked to Giles again, worry evident in Willow's expression, which reflected Giles'.
"Oh, dear," Giles said.
"Will you stop saying that!" Cordelia said.
*****
Elsewhere.
"It's here! I knew it was here!"
Spike rushed into the tunnel followed closely by Lucius and a few other vampires. The short vampire --we'll start calling him Bryan, even though Spike doesn't even call him Bryan much less even cared what the vamp's name is-- was standing in the center of the recently dug-out tunnel, holding a long steel pike, looking up at the cave ceiling.
Spike took a look for himself and saw a patch of man-filled stone where the cave rock was chiseled away.
"Well, mate," he glanced at the shor-- Bryan. "I'm sure you're thinking that you just saved yourself from being ever so painfully tortured, right?"
Bryan nodded his head, and grinned. Spike nodded his head in agreement, then the blonde's smile faded instantly. "Well, you're wrong." Bryan's smile also disappeared. "The clock's still tickin' and I don't see it in my hand. So I'd get to work if I were you."
Bryan moved quickly to the wall of the tunnel to begin setting up the scaffold. Spike turned to face the rest of the brood.
"Well, what are you layabouts waiting for? Get to work!"
Lucuis and the others moved past Spike to help with the scaffold and arm themselves with powertools. All except for one vampire still standing in front of Spike. Mr. Trick brushed a smudge of chiseled dust from the sleeve of his suit. He surveyed the tunnel again.
"A little shoddy but exceptional work," Mr. Trick had to raise his voice as the jackhammers roared to life. Spike started heading out of the tunnel and Trick fell into step beside him. "It's nice to see other vampires using the technology the humans created for our own purposes."
"Oh, sod that dribble, already, `ey?" Spike said, as he lit a cigarette. "You just get back to your pals and make sure Big Ugly doesn't send any of them sniffing this way."
"Don't worry, we have an agreement," Trick reminded him needlessly. "You take Kakistos out of the picture and we combine our forces to help you get your revenge."
"And then I go on my merry way and you get to have this bloody town all to yourselves," Spike finished. What's left of it, he thought.
"Still," Trick said, looking over his shoulder at the tunnel behind them. "I don't see how tunneling under a town that already has hundreds of them is going to help you defeat Kakistos?"
"That's my concern, you just make sure you're ready to do your part when I make my move."
"The sewer access to the firehouse is going to be guarded," Trick warned him.
Spike grinned, exhaling smoke. "Well, I certainly hope so. In fact, why don't you double the guards there?"
Trick narrowed his eyebrows. "You sure?"
"Absolutely. And make sure it's someone loyal to our boy `Kistos, right?"
Trick shook his head. "I hope you know what you're doing."
End of Part Twelve
********
*****A CHANGE OF SCENERY*****
THIRD THREAD: Part Thirteen
***
"I wish Buffy Summers had never come to Sunnydale!"
"Done!"
***
Early December, 1998
When the bright flash of light faded, Cordelia blinked. She was still standing in the quad of Sunnydale High, but she was suddenly alone.
"Anya?"
The new girl, she had met only yesterday, had been standing right in front of her just a second ago. Now she was no where in sight. Cordelia looked across the quad to where Buffy, Willow, and Xander had been sitting on the bench in front of the fountain. But the courtyard, which had been alive with students was almost desolate now. Even the fountain itself, which had been flowing, was suddenly barren.
Something else that was no longer there, Cordelia realized, was the pain in her abdomen. She brought her hand to her left side and did not feel the bandages, through the fabric of her dress, covering her stitches, from her injury. In fact, the wound was gone, as if never there. Which should be impossible, she thought. She raised her hand to touch the pendant of the necklace Anya had just given her, remembering what she had said to Anya.
" `I wish Buffy Summers had never come to Sunnydale.' " Cordelia repeated, scanning the quad again.
Then Anya had become this hideous looking creature and then that bright flash of light before everything changed. Scattered pieces of trash littered the area as if no one could be bothered to keep it clean. There were only a handful of students heading inside to their classes, each moving in a brisk, almost skittish, pace, as if eager to get inside. But Cordelia didn't take much notice of this, still trying to make sense of what just happened.
Still feeling the pendant between her fingers, Cordelia pondered, "She was, like . . . a good fairy." She raised her eyesbrows, "A scary , veiny . . . good fairy."
She smiled at the implications of what just happened. If there really was no Buffy Summers, she thought, then there wouldn't be any reason for her to get sucked into the Slayer's group of losers and, she realized, there would be no chance on the Hellmouth that she would ever fall for Xander Harris any other way. The fact that she no longer had her injury proved it. So she and Oz never went to the burnt out factory to rescue Willow and Xander only to find them in the basement making out on Spike's old bed. And Cordelia hadn't fled back up the stairs and fallen through the weakened boards and impaled herself on the rebar last week.
Turning, Cordelia snickered as she headed inside, a subtle bounce in her step that had been missing ever since her return to school.
Once she entered the halls her pace slowed a bit as well as her excitement. The clock on the wall let her know that it was still the right time. That flash of light hadn't change that at least, but the school seemed a lot emptier than it should be. Sure there were students going up and down the corridors heading to their next classes but not as many as she was accustomed to seeing. But Cordelia mentally shrugged that off as she turned the next corner towards her locker.
As she scanned the hallways, half expecting to run into one of the freak club: Xander, Willow, and even Buffy --despite the wish that seemed to have been granted to her-- Cordelia did not notice the framed photograped portrait on the wall above the locker line. If she had, she would have recognized the man as Principle Flutie, whom, in her memory, had died when he was eaten by hyena-possessed students nearly two years ago. She may have also seen the plaque under the portrait in memoriam to the principle and his *year* of service and realized that the date of his passing did not match the date she remembered him dying.
She also didn't take much notice of the many open doors of empty lockers, some of which looked as if they hadn't been used in years --remnants of stickers and pin-ups, ominous traces of the last occupants, still clinging to the insides. And hanging on many of the closed lockers were strings of garlic. So Cordelia didn't notice the next portrait she passed. That of Principle Snyder, complete with memoriam plaque of his own recording a shorter term of service than that of Flutie. Her attention was on Harmony who was chatting up a storm to her group of friends as she dug out a text book from her locker.
Cordelia hesitated but didn't stop moving forward --slowly passing the portrait of Principle Jackson, who just missed tieing Snyder, by just a couple of weeks, on months of service-- remembering how they had acted towards her since her return to school yesterday. At first, they seemed to accept her back into the fold of their elite social circle of the high school, but then revealed their true intentions by shunning her and embarrassing her at every opportunity. The most recent when they had walked passed Cordelia and Anya out in the quad just a few minutes ago.
As soon as she spotted Cordelia, Harmony broke off what she was saying. "Where have you been!?" she demanded.
Now Cordelia did stop completely --under the portrait of Principle McPherson, who posed no danger of breaking Principle Jackson's record of term of service. She smiled a bit tentatively as they approached her, preparing herself for another attack of insults from them, but Harmony and the others actually seemed happy to see Cordelia.
"Ted Charvin just totally went for third with Ginger in front of everybody!" said an excited Hamony.
Cordelia kept smiling, the name Ted Charvin meaning absolutely nothing to her, but obviously should the way Harmony spoke about it. But before she could reply, Aura leaned out from behind Harmony --like the good little sheep she and the others were, Cordelia noted-- admiring Cordelia's dress.
"Love the dress," she said, with a dramatic hand over her heart. "It's so daring."
And it was then that Cordelia finally took notice of what her friends were actually wearing. They were wearing dresses, skirts, and twinsets in the styles they usually wore, but the colors were all dark, drab, and grays. Cordelia's own turquoise dress was a bright clash in contrast.
But before she could respond to Aura, another voice called out, "Cordelia."
Cordelia saw it was John Lee as he hurried to her side. He was also wearing clothes in the same drab colors. When did everybody suddenly become sensitive to bright colors? she thought.
"Yeah?" she replied, still remembering how he shrugged her off yesterday, not wanting to be seen with "Xander Harris' castoff." But now he seemed just a little nervous towards her, even timid, as he pulled her aside from the others --under yet another portrait, this one of Principle Johnson who shouldn't have even bothered to unpack his things into his new office.
"Look," he said, "Every guy on campus has probably asked, but if you're not going to the Winter Brunch with anyone, I'd be honored, and we'd have fun."
Cordelia didn't respond right away, waiting for the shoe to drop, or for John Lee to give away that he was putting her on. Well, she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.
"I'll get back to you," she said, evenly.
"Really?" he said, suddenly full of hope.
"Yeah." She smiled at him, gamely.
"Great!" He actually sounded amazed to have gotten almost a "maybe" from her. He turned and headed down the hall in a happy stride.
Not exactly sure what to make of what just happened, as she watched him go, she started to turn when Harmony and the others flocked around her.
"Cordy, you reign!" Harmony said, with much admiration.
"I do?" Cordelia almost frowned, then stopped herself. "I mean, I do."
She was starting to feel like one of them once again. And why shouldn't she? she asked herself. In this reality she never even met Buffy, therefore wouldn't have given Xander Harris the time of day.
I think I'm going to like it here, she thought, as they all started down the hall --passing the portrait of Principle Phillips.
"So what's with the Winter Brunch thing?" Cordelia asked Harmony.
Cordelia thought she saw some of the admiration slip from Harmony's eyes as the blonde gave her a look. "Well, duh. When else do you think we'd have the dance?"
"Right," Cordelia said, quickly, not wanting to sound completely clueless.
Then the group of girls reached the end of the hall disappearing around the left corner.
Five seconds later, the custodian walked into the empty hall from around the right corner and stopped in front of the wall. He set down what he had been carrying, leaning it against the lockers, and raised the nail and hammer in his hands. As he pounded the nail into the wall, the noise echoed lonely through the corridors. The school bell rang just as he hit the nail's head one last time. He bent down and picked up the newly framed portrait of Principle Teagarden, placing it on its spot on the wall.
End of Part Thirteen
********
SECOND THREAD: Part Fourteen
"Stein, in my office, now," ordered the Police Chief, just a second before the detective was about to sit down at his desk.
Stein glanced at the door of the Chief's office and saw that he already stepped back inside, leaving the door ajar. Stein released a breath and headed for the office. From the corner of his eyes he saw some of the other detectives and cops watching him, but when he truned his head to look at them, they quickly looked away.
He found the Chief sitting behind his desk, looking down at an opened file.
"Close the door and have a seat, Tom," he said, without looking up.
Stein closed the door and sat down on the leather sofa. He didn't say anything, waiting for the older man to.
"You look like hell," the Chief said, though he hadn't looked up. "The switch to the day shift not agreeing with you?"
"It's fine," Stein said, not entirely keeping the sarcasm out of his voice.
The Chief did look up then. "Really?"
"Really."
"Hmph." The Chief sat back, eyeing the detective thoughtfully. "I would have thought that you might be missing your regular hours."
Stein shook his head nonchalantly. "Can't say that I have. In fact, I prefer the day shift now. Never really liked waking up at the crack of dusk."
The Chief didn't say anything right away. "I see." He glanced down at the opened file. "I've just been reviewing an old case. One of yours, actually." He gave Stein a few seconds to respond, and when the dectective didn't, he added, "The Finch case."
"I would hardly call that one an old case, Chief."
"The case was investigated as far as we could take it."
"Not as far as I would have--"
"And it led to a deadend," the Chief cut him off.
"A deadend?" Stein's voice rose, as he stood. "We had suspects! Two --VERY-- likely suspects!"
"Suspects who had alibis," the Chief said, somehow keeping his tone calm while still making himself heard.
Stein chuckled harshly and paced to one side of the office. He took little notice, through the half-closed blinds, the cops out in the main area looking towards the office.
"The suspects *were* each others' alibis! I'd hardly call that very reliable."
"The fact remains," the Chief continued unfettered, "is that there was never enough evidence uncovered--"
"Evidence?!" Stein made no attempt to keep his voice calm. "We had evidence."
"Right." Chief said, turning a page in the file. "A sharp, wooden stake that never made it to the evidence room."
"I signed it in myself!"
"Then how do you explain it not being there now?" Challenged the Chief.
Stein didn't answer. From his expression it was clear that the two have had this conversation many times already. Finally, the Chief's expression softened a bit.
"Look, Tom, you know I wasn't happy how things turned out. It was an ugly case. Being the Deputy Mayor who was murdered, the media was all over our asses. And with the Mayor breathing down our necks . . . And then when the case went nowhere."
"And me being the primary on the case," added Stein, scornfully.
"They were looking for blood and we didn't have anyone to blame," finished the Chief.
"So you gave them mine."
"Don't think for once that was an easy decision."
Stein scoffed, lightly. "Yeah, I'm sure you lost sleep over that one."
Some of the hardness returned to the Chief's tone. "Still. You were the primary, therefore, not completely without blame. Being the best detective I have, I did expect more from you. At least to provide us with a suspect--"
"I gave you two suspects," Stein stated coldly.
"Two teenage girls. The media would have had a field day with that. Especially with no evidence to back it up."
"If you had let me lean on them the way I wanted to--"
"You had already questioned them," the Chief cut in.
"Yeah, and they were lying! The Summers girl definitely."
"Do you think she was the one who wielded the murder weapon?"
"It doesn't really matter, at this point, does it?" Stein said. "Whether she did the stabbing or is covering for the other girl, they're both accountable."
"But you think she'd be the one to crack?"
"She's the weak link. She almost broke when I was just talking to her at her home. If you had let me bring her in I know I would have had her."
The Chief nodded. "And is that why you've been following these girls for the past few nights?" Stein didn't reply, nor did he flinch under the Chief's glare. After a moment, the Chief sighed. "Tom, I know how dedicated you are. You don't like leaving an unsolved case. Especially when it comes to this Buffy girl--"
"It has nothing to do with this girl in particular--" Stein began to retort.
"Considering," the Chief plowed through, "That you've investigated this girl in the past for murder before."
"You know as well as I do there is more to her than meets the eye!"
"And when those cases came up empty it kind of pissed you off. So now, I think you really want her to be the culprit in this case. To finally nail this girl," the Chief concluded.
"It was an anonymous tip that led us to these girls in the first place," Stein countered. "It wasn't any vindiction of mine. These girls did it!"
"Stop following them," the Chief ordered, standing up, silencing the detective. "I've backed you up in the past. I've covered for you as much as I could. If it wasn't for me you would have been kicked off The Force entirely. I don't need anymore heat coming down on this Department."
This got Stein's attention. "What? Who's bringing heat down on the Department?"
The Chief didn't respond quickly, and Stein was sure he saw something flicker accross the older man's expression. As if he had said a little too much.
In a stern voice, the Chief said, "Look, let this one go." Then in a lower voice, which seemed to hold more truth than anything else the Chief had already said, "Trust me. You don't want to push this thing any further."
Stein was about to reply, but the look in the Chief's eyes stopped him. It was something the detective could not recall seeing in the man's expression for as long as he'd been a cop in Sunnydale, but he recognized it for what it was.
Fear.
Wherever this heat was coming from, Stein doubted that it was from the girls' parents. He had actually spoken to Joyce Summers a few times --during past investigations when her daughter was a suspect-- and she didn't exactly strike him as someone with enough glout to be imposing, let alone fear. And then Faith didn't have any parents in Sunnydale.
All of which served to fuel Stein's theory, back when the case took a sudden turn south, with their only piece of evidence disappearing, that there was someone more powerful pulling the strings, maybe even paid these girls to kill the Deputy Mayor. But for the first time, he considered the possibility that the same someone was pulling a few of the Chief's strings as well.
This case has just gotten a lot bigger, Stein thought.
And dangerous.
* * * * *
Anya came running into the ladies room, dropping her books on the floor, and barely shoved through the door of the nearest stall when she dropped to her knees in front of the toilet and vomited. Even though her hair was shoulder-length, and survived the first heave unscathed, she used one hand to pull her hair back and out of the way.
When the dry heaves finally stopped, Anya sat back and leaned against the smooth surface of the stall, feeling it's coolness through the fabric of her clothes, and didn't move. Her eyes closed. Trying to catch her breath and get through the nausea, fighting the urge to throw up again.
When she opened her eyes, nearly two minutes later, she found that the restroom was not spinning anymore, so slowly got to her feet. Stepping out of the stall, she approached the sink, ingnoring her books scattered on the floor. She ran the cold water, filled her hands, and rinsed her mouth. She repeated this until the harsh acidy taste had almost faded, then filled her hands again and splashed her face. This she did four times, each time with more force, drenching half her hair and most of the shoulders and sleeves of her sweater. Then she slammed her fists down on either side of the sink, in frustration, keeping her head bent forward over the running water.
She remained like that for several seconds, until, finally, her fists relaxed and her shoulders sagged. Anya reached a tired hand to the faucet and shut the water, though it continued to drip. Since classes were still in session, the sound was loud and ominous in the now quiet restroom.
Anya raised her soaked face to look at herself in the mirror, but instead of seeing her weary expression . . .
She jerked back, with a surge of adrenaline, practically throwing herself backwards. She tried to move her feet to keep her legs underneath her upper body, but her foot came down on one of her text books and slipped, tilting her more dangerously off balance.
As she fell, arms reaching out to either side to save herself, but only finding air, her eyes remained locked on the mirror. And what she was looking at inside the glass was the image of herself in her demon form of Anyanka.
Staring back at her.
Even though her fall to the hard tiled floor took less than two seconds, Anya thought she saw her demon reflection actually watching her as she fell, disappearing from its sight.
Then the back of Anya's head hit the floor as she landed, and as the restroom's spinning began to stop again, even though it was getting dark, Anya still tried to speak. But even if somebody had been standing over her trying to listen, that person would not have heard her fading voice.
"What . . do . . . you . . . . want. . . .?"
* * *
Thirty seconds after the bell rang, Buffy stepped out of her last class for the day, stifling a yawn as she walked down the hall. Her pace was considerably slower than that of most of the students around her who seemed very eager to get off school grounds.
There used to be a time where I was like that, Buffy thought, glumly to herself. But despite how much time she actually spent in this school it was a wonder how come more of her schoolwork didn't get done. And with that thought, Buffy was brought back to all the problems she had almost forgot about during the last two minutes of class. Graduation. The Mayor's Ascension. Angel. Faith.
That last one, quickly sobered Buffy up completely, and she was suddenly eager to get home to her mother. She picked up her step as she rounded the corner to her locker.
Why had she not told her mother about Faith? Buffy wondered. She was able to admit to herself that it was careless, and more than a little reckless, not to at least warn her about Faith. It was exactly as she told Giles. Her mom was just so relieved that there was a another Slayer that Buffy just couldn't bring herself to crush her hopes that her daughter would actually be able to leave Sunnydale to go to college. That there was some future for Buffy other than dying at a young age. Not to mention that Faith was now one of the those things that could possibly cause Buffy's untimely death.
Not if I cause hers first, Buffy thought, some of the anger she felt this morning returning. Could she really kill Faith? It was something she and the others had never seemed to talk about directly ever since finding out the Rogue Slayer had joined forces with the Mayor. The discussion of stopping the Mayor's Ascension was usually the main topic of all their meetings for the past couple of weeks, with Faith being a close second. But with all the talk about how to deal with Faith, no one ever spoke up and pointed out a way on exactly what was to be done with her. Even Wesley, the most vocal person in their meetings, never addressed the issue directly. And Giles seemed a little evasive on the subject as well, though he always made a point to inform everyone to be extra careful now.
Capturing Faith was always a possibility, she supposed. But how do you keep a Slayer locked up? It wasn't like they could turn her over to the cops, even if they could prove that Faith was a danger to society, not with Mayor Wilkins calling the shots. And how would the police be able to hold someone with superhuman strength anyway?
Buffy thought she understood now, why Giles skirted the issue. Because the most logical solution to dealing with a Rogue Slayer was to kill her? she thought. And the look on her former Watcher's face when she declared she was going to kill Faith. It was a look Buffy tried to chase away, but seemed to be seared into her memory, and even more painfully to her heart. The concern in his expression was not new to her. In fact, it was comforting, and a source of strength for her to turn to whenever she needed it.
But not the fear.
The fear in Giles' eyes. Not the worry he shared with her mother for Buffy's safety. He was afraid of what his Slayer might actually do and Buffy wanted almost more than anything to erase that look from his eyes. To reassure him that she wasn't going to do something that would turn herself into a murderer.
But Buffy wasn't willing to sacrifice her mother's safety in order to do that.
No, she thought, it was Faith's choice to raise the stakes. I'm more than willing to meet the challenge.
"Buffy," a voice called out behind her, bringing her out of her thoughts.
Buffy looked over her shoulder and tried to smile as Willow caught up with her.
"Hey, Will," she greeted. "You seem to be doing a lot of running around lately."
"Tell me about it," the redhead replied, as she matched Buffy's pace. "I was talking to Xander in class, because you know how he needs help with his trig, but it seemed like he couldn't keep his attention off of Cordelia --who sits just two rows in front of us --I think he still has lingering feelings for her, even though he would deny it on his deathbed. Of course, she never once looked in our direction --probably having to do with what happened between me and Xander and getting impaled and stuff."
"Y'think?" Buffy said, jibely.
But Willow continued as if not interrupted. "And then I had to go meet Oz outside before he left for practice with the band, so I was out of breath, and could hardly say good-bye, which wasn't too bad." Her smile widened. "It just meant we could do more kissing, which didn't help me to catch my breath any, but no bad there."
"I'm sure," Buffy smiled, much easier this time.
"And then I came to see you before you left," Willow glanced in the direction they were headed, "But since it looks as if you're going to the library I guess I ran for no reason since I was going that way too." The redhead finally took a deep breath. "Whooo."
"Done?" Buffy asked.
"Yeah," the redhead said, trying to catch her breath. "But . . . why am I the one doing all the running around? Why doesn't anyone run to me for once? I mean, Anya came to me this morning. Anya! She knows I don't like her. I mean, she has to know. Right? I think I expressed myself very clearly when I punched her out. That right there should have told her . . ."
Willow trailed off when she saw how Buffy was looking at her.
"Okay," Willow said, a bit sheepishly, "Now I'm done."
"And again with the `punching Anya out' story," Buffy stated with a nod. "I think someone is a little punch-happy."
"No!" Willow protested. "I would never be proud about punching someone out."
"She declared in a tone full of pride," Buffy narrated. Before Willow could reply, she said, "And no library for me. I'm just stopping at my locker before I leave."
"Oh." Willow fell silent as they reached their lockers and watched Buffy put away her books. "Why does it seem like you're avoiding the library?" Then in a more gentle tone, "Or is it Giles you're avoiding?"
Buffy closed the locker. "I'm not avoiding Giles. I--" She stopped when she saw Willow's expression. She sighed and leaned against the lockers, once again feeling a little tired. "You should have seen the look on his face, Will. He was so disappointed with me."
"Oh, Buffy. You just freaked him out a little that's all. He knew you didn't really mean it when you said you were going to kill Faith."
Buffy shot Willow a look, but the redhead was opening her own locker and didn't see Buffy's expression, as she mumbled, "As appealing as that idea sounds. You were just really upset. Giles understands that."
She closed her locker and gave Buffy a reassuring smile. Buffy could only stare at her friend. Finally, she blinked. "Right," Buffy had to force herself to say, and glanced over her shoulder so she would not have to look Willow in the eye. "I have to go," she said, glancing quickly at her. "I'll see you later, okay."
She turned and Willow watched the Slayer hurry towards the exit.
"Okay," Willow frowned.
Buffy didn't look back once and Willow could have sworn that Buffy was moving faster the closer she got to the doors. She may have even broke into a run when she stepped outside.
End of Part Fourteen
********
THIRD THREAD: Part Fifteen
"Okay. Again . . the assignment is all the odd problems on page twenty-seven--"
The last bell of the day rang. The teacher; who to Cordelia looked more like a teacher's assistant, as if he barely graduated from high school himself, if at all; instantly turned away from the blackboard and started to quickly grab his things from his desk, talking rapidly.
"Alright," there was a sudden urgency to his tone. "Now, don't forget, tomorrow we have our, uh, monthly memorial, so uh, there's no class."
He had barely finished talking and nearly ran out of the classroom. Cordelia frowned as she started to gather her own books. Monthly memorial? she wondered. Then she noticed that the other students seemed to be in a hurry to leave as well. The class was less than half full --in fact, it seemed as if less than half the students had shown up to any of the classes she had attended. But everyone who did show up was wearing the same dark, drab colors.
Maybe it was a new fashion style --although a very weird fad at that-- in this reality, she thought. She mentally shrugged off that thought. It would just be her responsibility to bring back the bright colors, and with the arsenal she had in her closet, it shouldn't be too hard.
"What's the rush?" she asked.
Harmony, Aura, and Kate were already out of their seats.
"Oh, you know, my mom hates it when I'm late," Harmony replied. Even though she said it casually, Cordelia thought there was a certain anxiousness to her voice.
"Since when? Aren't we going out tonight?"
Harmony gave her a strange look over her shoulder as she and the others headed for the door. With so few students, the rest of the class was already gone. Cordelia rose, her books in her arms.
"Curfew starts in an hour," Aura said, in a tone suggesting any further discussion was unnecessary.
"Curfew?" Cordelia frowned, then brightened. "Come on, I'm in a really good mood!" she said as she followed them. "Let's go to the Bronze!"
This stopped the other girls in their tracks and they all turned to stare, disbelievingly, at Cordelia, which in turned, stopped her in her tracks.
"Is that a joke?" Harmony asked, indignantly.
Cordelia was struck speechless for a couple of seconds. If she hadn't known better she would have thought that Harmony was offended, but the blonde rarely felt strongly about anything unless it came to keeping up with the latest trends. So that must mean . . .
"Oh! The Bronze isn't cool in this reality." That must be it, Cordelia thought. "I've gotta make these little adjustments," she shook her head, smiling.
Of course, Harmony didn't know what the hell Cordelia was talking about and stepped closer as the others left.
"Cordy, what's with you? I mean, you wear this come-bite-me outfit," she glanced down at Cordelia's dress, "you make jokes about the Bronze, and you're acting a little skitzo."
Cordelia decided that if she was going to fit in in this new world she better find out exactly how it has changed from the one she was just in this morning.
"You're right," she said. "I just . . . Well, I bumped my head yesterday, and I keep forgetting stuff."
Harmony didn't really look convinced by that, but she seemed willing not to press the issue. Now Cordelia took a step closer to her. The first thing she should find out is what happened to "certain" people she hadn't seen in this reality yet.
"Not that I care, but Xander Harris, he's miserable, right? And that Willow freak he hangs with, not even a blip on the radar screen, right?" Cordelia couldn't help smiling.
This time, Harmony was struck speechless, and she just stared at Cordelia for a second. Then in a solemn voice, said, "Well . . . yeah. They're dead."
Cordelia's smile instantly fell. Even though those two soft-spoken words hit her like a fallen boulder, she managed to keep herself on her feet, but she couldn't find her voice to respond. Even if she knew what to say to Harmony.
But the blonde, whose patience for Cordelia had finally reached it's limit, rolled her eyes, exasperated, and turned away. But Cordelia hardly noticed as Harmony quickly marched out of the classroom.
***
Cordelia looked up from the floor and was brought out of her thoughts when she realized she was walking down the corridor leading to the library. Glancing over her shoulder, she couldn't even recall leaving the classroom. And where had everyone gone? she wondered. The students usually took off right at the last bell, but it had only been a few minutes and the school was virtually deserted now. It seemed like even all the teachers were gone.
Cordelia idly remembered that she had cheerleading practice this afternoon but it didn't look as if any of the other cheerleaders were still around. In fact, she couldn't recall seeing any of them during the day. Well, before Anya had granted her wish anyway. Just as well, she thought, she really didn't feel like going to practice anyway.
And why was she going to the library? she asked herself. What could possibly be there for her? If Buffy had never come to Sunnydale, and Willow and Xander were really dead . . .
She slowed down and nearly stopped walking as her thoughts began to ponder that reality. Her gaze fell on the rows of lockers on either side of her. Most of them were closed while others hung open --empty inside, going unused for seemingly years-- but even those seemed abandoned. As if they still held books and supplies within for students who will never return for them. Then there were the lockers with crosses and strings of garlic hanging from them. But then something could have happened to those owners just recently and the crosses were yet to be removed and the garlic not given enough time to whither and fall to the floor . . . to be swept away by the janitor's push broom--
Cordelia shook her head, ridding herself of those thoughts.
Looking down the corridor she could almost see the double doors to the library from here.
Giles isn't here either, she realized and yet wondered why that bothered her so much. The school was too quiet. There wasn't even any wind outside. Cordelia suddenly very much wanted to get away from here as soon as possible.
Turning on her heels she picked up her pace and headed straight for the parking lot. She reached into her purse for her keys as she pushed through the door, stepping outside. She was halfway to the parking lot and was now digging through her purse, still searching for her keys.
"Where are they?" she muttered to herself.
She glanced up just to make sure she was heading in the right direction and continued to search her purse.
She suddenly stopped in her tracks and raised her head again.
Wide-eyed with shock, mouth opened, Cordelia approached the empty parking lot. There was not a single car on the lot. It looked as deserted as the school was. And with all the fallen leaves covering the parking lot, Cordelia may have wondered if it had been occupied with any cars in the past year, but she was too furious to think clearly just now. What started out to be a promising change for her had suddenly turned into something worse, and this had to be the final straw.
"Okay. Not funny!" she raised her voice, her heels pratically pounding on the parking lot as she walked to the spot she had left her car this morning.
Then she spotted the janitor walking from the other direction, lugging an trashcan behind his back, walking towards the school.
"Hey! You!" Cordelia shouted, stopping the man as she stood in front of him. "Where did you put my car?"
"Pardon?" he asked.
Even though the hispanic man had spoken without a hint of an accent, Cordelia was fuming, "My auto! El convertablo?"
The janitor didn't seem to take offense but narrowed his eyebrows in question. "You students aren't allowed to drive, and you know it."
"What!?"
"Now go on now, miss," he continued, ignoring the expression of disbelief on her face. "You better get in before the sun sets," he nodded his head toward the sun.
And with that, continued on his way back towards the school, leaving a confused Cordelia to turn in place and watch him leave. Then she saw that the sun was already turning an orange-y yellow as it neared the horizon.
Well, whatever was happening it would probably be best to be inside to figure it out. Especially in Sunnydale. She turned heading in the direction that would take her into town.
End of Part Fifteen