Chapter 5
Most of the group was gathered in the once and future library. The past few hours had been filled with destruction and exertion, but now most of them sat and watched. The water damage from a cracked window and some faulty plumbing upstairs had left the plaster walls of the old room cracked and sagging to the point where Xander decided there was no option but to rip out the lath and plaster and start fresh with new drywall. Luckily he'd had an army of supernaturally strong helpers to handle most of the demolition for him.
Now though, came a pivotal moment: his first constructive act of the building's rehabilitation. He stood on a ladder, flanked by Michelle and Claudette, holding a sheet of drywall up to the ceiling for him. He adjusted the alignment a bit to the right, just centered on the beams, flush against the wall. He pulled a nail from one of the pouches on his toolbelt and hefted a hammer with his other hand. The nail carefully held in place, he tapped it with the hammer and turned his head to try to ensure that he was lined up correctly. He pulled the hammer back and swung to drive the nail.
"Ow, damn it!" he shouted, leaping, nearly falling from the ladder, dropping his hammer and clutching at the thumb which had taken the full force of his blow. "Ok, that does it. Screws. We go whole hog and screw all the dry wall up. Might take a little longer, but it's really the better way to go in the long run. Right?" His audience merely nodded ignorant assent as he reached for his drill and a box of drywall screws only to be distracted again by a squeal from Kennedy. He looked down to make sure his thumb hadn't bled on her. . . but then he saw what had her so excited and nearly let out a little squeal of his own.
"Makes sense to me. Screws ought to work better than pounding thumbs into it." Buffy walked around the Willow/Kennedy entity hugging itself into oneness before her to briefly embrace her friend, followed by Dawn.
"Well, if you two promise to comfort me like this every time, I just might be tempted to try." Dawn grinned and moved over to chat with some of the new slayers she'd gotten to know back in Sunnydale.
"So," said Buffy looking around the large room, "The library?"
"Yup. I guess Giles has some things being shipped in from storage and needed a 'reasonably safe, somewhat clean environment in which to store them'." He grinned, looking up at the ductwork in the ceiling. "I'm doing a little better than that. Fine particle air filtration, independent humidity control, dry fire suppression system. . . Nothing short of another apocalypse is going to hurt these books," he said with a wry grin that faded quickly.
"That all sounds kind of expensive to someone who has absolutely no idea what it means. What happened to the shoestring budget?"
"Still tied up in knots. But there was a lot of community interest in seeing this old place restored. A lot of alumni contributions and companies willing to do some pro-bono work."
"Free stuff huh? It's nice to be a church."
Willow came over, Kennedy still attached to her from behind, and looked with concern at Xander's swelling thumb then up to the patch covering his eye. "And how are we healing?"
"Oh, good. Your mighty Wiccan magic kept it from getting infected and it's just a nice clean... hole in my head. Always said I needed another one."
"Well, the antibiotics kept the infection away, I just. . . Caleb was unclean in other ways. But I wish I could have done something more. . ."
"Hey, Wil, with your help it healed in days instead of weeks. I'm not too keen on risking a chance to redefine "evil eye" if you know what I'm saying. I'm dealing. I mean, hey, screws instead of nails - what the heck?"
"Well, at least we don't have to worry about it happening again. With all these slayers out kicking evil's puny little ass, you can just stick to teaching."
"Teaching? Willow. . . teach what? Shop? I don't know what I'm going to do once we get this building's back in shape but . . . Maybe you noticed I barely managed to graduate high school - how am I supposed to teach it?"
Dawn rose from her conversation on the floor and approached the now silent group. "From the heart?" She had their attention. "Ok, so maybe calculus: not your thing. That doesn't mean you don't have as much to offer these girls as anyone else here. It's not all about learning how to fight or getting a diploma. They have to learn how to be slayers. Why to be slayers." She glanced apologetically at her sister, and then continued with her train of thought. "There's no one better to learn that from than you, Xander."
Xander looked at her for moment, again flashing back to the whiny, bratty little kid. The clepto. The Key. He shook his head. "Except maybe you."
It's funny. When you spend all your time in big cities, swank little burgs like Sunnydale, or especially prison, you forget how dark the night is. There's always a light on somewhere, and it usually seems to be shining right in your face. With the new moon not helping at all, a solid overcast blocking any starlight and not a streetlamp or shop sign in sight, this small Mexican village was delivering Faith a disturbing reminder of the dark.
It had been a long few nights as she and Adina worked their way slowly back towards Guaymas. It seemed like every evil thing was sticking its head up to get a sense of what was going on in the wake of the First's assault on the Sunnydale Hellmouth. Any who stuck their heads up near this team soon lost them. A high-pitched scream up ahead and to her right suggested to Faith that something simply had not yet learned that lesson.
Both slayers sprinted toward the sound, each tripping several times on the uneven gravel road in the pitch darkness, but as they got closer there was light coming from an open doorway between two buildings. Apparently the vamp hadn't wheedled his way into the woman's home, but she'd stepped beyond the portal herself and he'd seized the opportunity to drink her right there. So engrossed was he in his meal, and blinded by the pool of light in which he stood, surrounded by darkness, that he didn't see his attackers until it was too late for even his vampiric reflexes to save him.
They each grabbed an arm just as his fangs pulled clear of her skin and ripped him free from his victim. Restrained thus, he presented little challenge and Adina quickly drove her stake home through his back. His dust settled quickly between them and they went over to check the woman.
"Muerto."
"Yup."
"Perra estúpida."
"Maybe. More likely she just had no idea."
Adina shook her head, already finding it difficult to remember a time when she didn't know about vampires - when they hadn't defined her entire existence. The two slayers turned and continued their journey.
"¿usted nos piensa verá a más vampiros esta noche?" asked Adina.
"más vampiros? Esta noche?" Faith echoed. It still took her a moment to translate, but she was learning fast out of necessity. Adina knew some English but, when in Rome... She sighed and admitted, "I wouldn't be surprised. . ."
"No sería sorprendido. . ."
"That's what I said."
Giles pulled a chair over to the phone in his new quarters - formerly a nun's office in the rectory - and dialed information for Los Angeles. "Yes, I'd like the number for Angel Investigations, please." A computerized voice delivered the information then he hung up and dialed again. After the first ring there was an odd click and the next ring had a slightly different tone to it.
A woman's voice answered, "Wolfram and Hart, Angel's office, this is Harmony how can I help you?"
Giles sputtered, "Wolfr. . . Angel's. . . Harmony?"
"Mr. Giles is that you? Oh, I heard about what happened in Sunnydale! Chalk another one up for the good guys, right? I was going to send a card or something, but then I thought, oh, I'm so sure Hallmark makes a "congratulations on averting the apocalypse" card. And then, I didn't know where to send it so. . ."
"Yes, still Harmony." Giles concern began to grow. Harmony was a vampire, however difficult it was to accept that as threatening, and last he heard she and Angel's group hadn't parted on the best of terms. "But why are you answering Angel's phone?"
"Well, I'm his secretary and that's what he told me to do. Not real big on the telecommunicating, let me tell you. I think sometimes he. . ."
"Harmony, please, just. . . does Wesley still work there?"
"Oh, sure, he's head of Wolfram & Hart's research department now."
"Department. . . You said that before, 'Wolfram and Hart'. I thought they. . . I mean, since when does Wesley work for a law firm?"
"Well, since Angel and his 'crew' took it over. I mean there are actually rumors that Wes. . ."
"What do you mean they took it over? Oh, never mind just. . . could I speak to him, please?"
"I'm sorry, he's out of the office at the moment. Can I take a message?"
"Oh, I doubt it. Is Angel in?"
"Sorry, he's out with Wes. Some sort of Booby demon sacrifice to stop or something."
"A Boo-Ghe demon in Los Angeles? Well, is anyone from Angel Investigations in? Cordelia? Maybe... what was his name, Gunn?"
"Cordy? No she. . . " Harmony's voice trembled for a moment over her old friend's name before she regained her best professional secretary voice, "Mr. Gunn is in, yes. Just a moment."
Giles' brain quivered with the bizarre information he was getting, but he dismissed it mostly as a normal reaction to trying to have a conversation with Harmony Kendall. Death had done nothing to improve that girl's cogency.
The voicemail system spoke as Giles awaited his transfer, announcing that the party he was attempting to reach was "Mr. Charles Gunn, head of the legal department of the esteemed multinational, interdimensional law firm Wolfram and Hart."
"Gunn," he answered succinctly.
"Mr. Gunn? This is Rupert Giles. I don't believe we've spoken, but I, um, knew Angel while he was in Sunnydale and I was a colleague of Wesley Wyndam Pryce at one time."
"Of course, Mr. Giles, I've heard all about you. How can I help you."
"Well, I. . . I was actually calling to speak with Wesley about any contacts he may still have from the council - I suppose I'll have to check back. But. . . what on Earth is going on out there?"