Chapter 2
Red, gold, and blue light seemed to glow from the oaken pews, burnished by decades of supporting the asses of the faithful. Giles grinned at himself for such impious thoughts as he sat near the back of the cathedral. Which one of them would have been most likely to say that? Xander perhaps? "Asses of the faithful" indeed.
The last confessor exited the booth along the right wall and crossed to genuflect before the alter, drawing Giles' gaze. It seemed inappropriate to watch the man, to wonder what sins he sought absolution of. Far better to study the windows casting those ethereal glows. One in particular caught his eye. St. Matthias, bearded and bald, leaning heavily on a long double-edged ax with a bible drooping from one hand. A fire-red Judas tree glowed behind him - perhaps taunting, perhaps warning. Peter's words at Matthias' selection echoed through Giles' mind, "You, Lord, know the hearts of men; make your choice known to us." Would the Vatican's decision on this matter be guided by God's knowledge? Even if it were, who could say what it meant. Would rejection simply mean that the slayer would be better served thus, or would it mean condemnation?
There could hardly be guidence on that point from these educational picturebooks on a grand scale. Perhaps enjoying that otherworldly glow they cast would be better without accepting the effect of leaving the bright world of man for the mysterious world of God. The world of God? So much information - so many experiences outside the world of man. But what do I know of God?
A large, gentle hand on his shoulder told Giles that Father Benedict was finished with his regular duties for the afternoon and ready for the discussion for which he'd come. He met the priest's eyes looking for some indication of the decision but years of preaching to the unfaithful and hearing the confessions of the unrepentant had leant Benedict a stony facade that could clean up at any poker table east of Las Vegas.
Giles stood and followed the burly man to the sacristy. The spartan room held little but an old steel desk, two chairs, a small bookshelf packed with official church publications and a wardrobe in which the priest now hung his vestments. The man remained silent and he straightened the robes and strode across the worn carpet, lowering himself into the chair behind the desk and indicating the other to Giles. The two gazed at each other for a long moment before Giles stood again, unable to contain himself any longer.
"Well? You've heard from them?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"You understand that this wasn't an easy decision for anyone involved. Between the Church's... official position on vampires and the like, and the blatant disrespect the Council has shown over the centuries..."
"A council that no longer exists!"
"I know, Rupert. I... I just want to make sure you understand the significance of this. The Vatican hasn't been actively involved in the physical aspects of the struggle for a very long time."
"We're not asking for your involvement, James, just..."
"You want us to house the Slayer - Slayer*s* if what you say is true. You set a few committees into a tizzy with that bit of news, I'll have you know. I can't imagine much more direct involvement that that."
"But will you do it? I mean, the council had vast resources, but most of them are gone or-or at least temporarily unavailable to me..."
"Yes."
"... We're going to be... Yes? You'll do it?"
"The Vatican has instructed the Diocese of Cleveland that I am to establish a small international school for 'troubled girls'. They are sending an advisor - I'm not yet sure who, but it will be someone familiar with your situation - and I am to hire secular instructors as necessary and convert the existing - currently condemned - school and lyceum for this purpose."
"Well that's fantastic!"
"Know that the budget they've given me is hardly extravagant. And know also that this absolutely must stay low-key. The last thing the Church needs is strange rumors about the odd English priest, the gentleman headmaster and a bunch of young girls."
"No, I assure you we'll be discrete."
"Look, it's not just the old grudges that make this difficult, Rupert. You know that don't you? I mean, I know what's out there, you and I saw plenty of it together. And I couldn't care less about the historical differences between the church and the council, there are much bigger things at stake here than our institutional pride."
"You're saying that you yourself have some other reservations?"
Father Benedict's chair creaked loudly as he slouched, leaning it back. He looked to the ceiling, ran a finger between the stiff white clerical collar and his neck and asked, "Reservations?" He pulled the starched white cloth from his shirt and held it in both hands, studying it for a moment before setting it down on the desk. "Some of the things I've heard - some of the people you have with you - the things they've done... I'm not so sure sanctioning your group is most appropriate move."
"What? What they've done? They fight evil! They risk their lives to save the world from vampires and-and demons and . . ."
"No. No, that's not what I mean. I know you're on the right side as far as the obvious, literal demons we face."
"What are you on about then?"
"Hm. Think about this Harris fellow you have with you then. Sitting outside in the bus watching over the girls you brought along?"
"A good man. Irreverent at times, but he's faced challenges you can't even imagine. He lost an eye saving one of the girls from the First Evil for God's sake."
"For God's sake Rupert? Was it for God's sake that he nearly married a demon? That he carried on a lengthy carnal affair with that same creature? And he's not alone. *Your* slayer herself has been with two vampires..."
"Both of whom had souls and fought by our side . . . Spike struck - or was - the final blow against the First Evil. A-and Anya herself died in that same battle."
"Yes, they fought by your side... sometimes. But, for God's sake? What about this Willow working with you? I'll not dwell as some of my superiors have on the fact her family is Jewish - I can think of one or two Jews who've contributed a bit to Christianity - but she's Wiccan *and* a lesbian. You want the church's blessing on her? Hopefully if we withdraw it she won't once again be consumed by magic and exact apocalyptic revenge. Lastly, but hardly the least of my concerns is this... Faith. An escaped convict isn't very good public relations."
Giles could only glare in response. For such an outsider to make judgments on these people who've given everything . . .
"My point isn't that your soldiers are evil or somehow unworthy. The things I did - we did in our youth... I know I'm in no position to cast stones. But you're bringing young girls into a church sponsored boarding school and these are the instructors you present as role models?"