addendum to the disclaimer: The story of the marble steps belongs to my father, who wrote it while growing up in Cabin John, MD. The foundation in the woods is real, and so are the marbles.
Summary: First stop: Maryland. Joanna Christenson is about to learn that the bumps in the night are real, and Xander and Dawn discover that local history can bite.
Roads Less Traveled
by Casix Thistlebane
Story 1: the Marble Steps
Part One
Bethesda, MD
11:45 am
Dawn stretched and rolled her head from side to side. She and Xander had been driving non-stop since Cleveland, stopping only long enough to swap drivers and use the facilities. They'd just checked into the hotel, and were now standing in street, at the address the coven had given them for Joanna Christenson, the first of many new slayers. Dawn felt like shit.
A quick glance in the mirror told her that as much as she felt awful, she still looked presentable enough. She had changed clothes in the backseat, from the sweat pants and long sleeved t-shirt that offered comfort in the car, to a pair of tailored black trousers and a simple green blouse. She slid her arms into her black, blazer styled coat, and shivered.
Xander stood by the side of the car, wearing his construction supervisor suit and a scarf. His teeth were chattering. "I think it's gonna take awhile for our blood to thicken." He crunched forward a few steps in the snow. "I was all excited about seeing a real winter, but it's definitely overrated."
"Yeah," Dawn crossed in front of the car and looked up at the house that was peeking through the skeletal trees. "What are we gonna say?"
"The usual speech, 'in every generation there is a Chosen One, she alone will stand against the' yadda yadda, and guess what? Lucky you, we've found a loop hole and now there's a Chosen Many!"
"That oughta make her feel special,"
"Well, considering the woodge that Giles says the new slayers are giving off, she'll have already had her first 'supernatural experience', so we'll have a leg up."
"This close to DC? It'll probably have been a dead president."
Xander chuckled, the image of a high school girl facing of against a spectral Teddy Roosevelt flashing through his mind. "Well, there's no time like the present."
The two set off up the hill that rose sharply from the road where their car was parked. There were no lights shining from the large bank of windows that faced the street, but a row of garden lanterns lined the twisting stairs, leading them to hope that someone would be home.
By the time they reached the front of the house, along a driveway facing away from the road, both of them were winded. They spent a moment beside the wooden patio catching their breath. A white Subaru station wagon sat in a snow covered car park. There was no doorbell.
"Here goes everything," Xander knocked.
A few moments later, a woman opened the door. Her wolf-gray hair curled tightly against her scalp, and the numerous wrinkles lining her face drifted in an upwards position, showing folds of laugh lines. She peered at them curiously from blue, cats-eye glasses, her eyes a washed out topaz. She was dressed in a loose fitting afghan dress. Three cats mewled at the visitors from her ankles.
"Can I help you?"
"Mrs. Christenson?" Xander held out his hand, a winning smile that he hoped masked his exhaustion stretching across his face. "We're here to see Joanna."
"She's out with her grandfather, grocery shopping." Mrs. Christenson looked from Xander to Dawn, one raven eyebrow creasing her forehead. "Are you friends of hers from school?"
"No, ma'am." Dawn held out a pamphlet. "We're from the Helsing Institute in Cleveland. It's the newest branch of the Council Girls School in Oxford, England."
Mrs. Christenson took the pamphlet, looking it over. "You're recruiting, then?"
"Yes, ma'am." Xander slid his abandoned right hand back into his pocket. "I'm Xander Harris, and this is Dawn Summers. Joanna was brought to our attention by the, er, admissions board. We're very excited to meet her, and hope she'll consider the Institute to continue her, er, studies."
"Come on inside then," Mrs. Christenson stepped to one side, and the cats swirled to follow her movements. "Have a seat in the living room, and tell me more about your institution."
Moments later, Xander and Dawn were seated on a beautiful brown leather couch. Mrs. Christenson brought them both drinks, and sat down in a wooden chair across from them.
"I've never heard of the Helsing Institute, or the . . . what was it? The Council School?"
Xander leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and running through the cover story that Giles had worked out for them. The school had to have a public face, and the fact that the Watcher's Council had been working a similar plan for years was their only advantage. "The Council School for Girls is one of the oldest institutions in England. It's a very elite institution devoted to helping young women with certain qualities to reach their full potential. The Helsing Institute has just been founded to bring the same advantages that the Council School has been offering English girls to America."
"I see." Mrs. Christenson glanced down at the pamphlet. "How large is your enrollment?"
"We only have about thirty girls in attendance, right now." Dawn sipped her hot chocolate. "Ages ranging from fourteen to eighteen. But we hope to have as many as one thousand by the beginning of the next school year, ranging from as young as eight to college aged girls."
"And you want Joanna to attend next year?" Mrs. Christenson sat back. "She's seventeen years old, in her junior year. I don't know if its best that she leave home now."
"Actually, Mrs. Christenson," Xander took a deep breath. They had to convince the woman to let Joanna go. "We were hoping to have her transfer in this semester. Joanna is a very special young woman, and we think she'd benefit greatly from the program that the Helsing Institute has to offer."
"Please understand, Mr. Harris,"
"Call me Xander."
"Xander then, that Joanna has had a very tough time recently. Her parents passed away only a few years ago, and my husband and I are the only family she has left. We want her to have all the advantages she can, and that includes as normal a home life as possible."
"Of course, Mrs. Christenson. We understand that often times family is one of the best things for a girl to have. But at the Helsing Institute she'll be given opportunities to understand herself and improve the world that she'll never have here in Bethesda."
Dawn set her mug down, glancing at Xander. "I know what its like to lose your parents, ma'am." She swallowed, and caught Xander's worried look. "My own mother died two years ago, and my father abandoned my sister and I before that. But the students and staff at the Institute are like a family. The girls all share a special bond, and Xander and the rest of the staff are all wonderful, caring confidants. They don't just look out for the students' academic well being, but for their mental and social health as well."
Mrs. Christenson patted Dawn's hand, and let her eyes drift over to a photograph of a cheerful young woman, her arms around an older couple, obviously the girl's parents. "Joanna is a special girl," she looked back at the two on the couch in front of her. "But she doesn't make friends easily. She needs a stable life, with people she knows."
"Or perhaps she needs to be around girls her own age, who understand and are going through the same life changes that she herself is experiencing."
"I just don't know, Ms. . . Dawn. Cleveland is so far away from everything she's ever known."
Xander tapped the pamphlet in her hands. "I understand. But many of the girls have traveled from as far away as Ireland, and even China. Please, take the time to review the information, and talk to your husband about it. I think you'll find that the Helsing Institute is a wonderful opportunity for Joanna, one where she'll be able to get out and see the world, and perhaps form the friendships she'll need to survive in the real world."
Mrs. Christenson sighed. "We will, of course. But we don't have that much money, and with Joanna going off to college in only a little while. . . ."
"We're prepared to offer her a full scholarship, including transportation costs. We'll be in town for a week, so don't hesitate to call us if you have any questions."
"Of course." Mrs. Christenson stood, the interview obviously coming to an end. "Thank you, Xander, Dawn. I hope you enjoy your time in our area."
The front door opened again, and a deeply tanned, healthy older man came in, holding two paper sacks. "Allison, we're home!" He turned, spotted the visitors, and froze. "Oh. Hello."
"Marcus, these are Xander Harris and Dawn Summers, from the Helsing Institute in Cleveland."
A young woman with brown hair pulled back in a bun burst in behind Marcus, two sacks in each arm, with three more cloth bags dangling from her left elbow. Xander smiled, spotting the gossamer mist that swirled around her body, announcing to him that this was Joanna, the slayer. Of course, the fact that there was no humanly way a girl of her size, only five feet tall and slightly built, could ever have handled the load she was carrying with ease, was also a tell tale sign.
"They'd like Joanna to attend their school."
"I already go to school, Grandma!" Joanna bustled past her grandfather on the way to the kitchen.
"I know dear," Mrs. Christenson stood to follow her family into the kitchen, then turned back to Xander. "Wait here just a moment, Xander. I'll see if she'd like to talk with you."
Xander and Dawn sat back down on the couch, finishing their beverages.
"Well, that could have gone better," Dawn set her now empty mug down.
"We got our foot in the door, and our cover story out. If we convince Joanna to go, her grandmother will let her." Xander turned to face his friend. "You didn't have to bring up your mother."
"No, but I think it helped."
"Yeah, I think so too."
Joanna came out of the kitchen and leaned against the doorway to the living room. "I have a project to do for history over in Cabin John." She crossed her arms over her chest; she didn't look very enthusiastic. "Gran says you should drive me there."
end part 1
Summary: First stop: Maryland. Joanna Christenson is about to learn that the bumps in the night are real, and Xander and Dawn discover that local history can bite.
Roads Less Traveled
by Casix Thistlebane
Story 1: the Marble Steps
Part One
Bethesda, MD
11:45 am
Dawn stretched and rolled her head from side to side. She and Xander had been driving non-stop since Cleveland, stopping only long enough to swap drivers and use the facilities. They'd just checked into the hotel, and were now standing in street, at the address the coven had given them for Joanna Christenson, the first of many new slayers. Dawn felt like shit.
A quick glance in the mirror told her that as much as she felt awful, she still looked presentable enough. She had changed clothes in the backseat, from the sweat pants and long sleeved t-shirt that offered comfort in the car, to a pair of tailored black trousers and a simple green blouse. She slid her arms into her black, blazer styled coat, and shivered.
Xander stood by the side of the car, wearing his construction supervisor suit and a scarf. His teeth were chattering. "I think it's gonna take awhile for our blood to thicken." He crunched forward a few steps in the snow. "I was all excited about seeing a real winter, but it's definitely overrated."
"Yeah," Dawn crossed in front of the car and looked up at the house that was peeking through the skeletal trees. "What are we gonna say?"
"The usual speech, 'in every generation there is a Chosen One, she alone will stand against the' yadda yadda, and guess what? Lucky you, we've found a loop hole and now there's a Chosen Many!"
"That oughta make her feel special,"
"Well, considering the woodge that Giles says the new slayers are giving off, she'll have already had her first 'supernatural experience', so we'll have a leg up."
"This close to DC? It'll probably have been a dead president."
Xander chuckled, the image of a high school girl facing of against a spectral Teddy Roosevelt flashing through his mind. "Well, there's no time like the present."
The two set off up the hill that rose sharply from the road where their car was parked. There were no lights shining from the large bank of windows that faced the street, but a row of garden lanterns lined the twisting stairs, leading them to hope that someone would be home.
By the time they reached the front of the house, along a driveway facing away from the road, both of them were winded. They spent a moment beside the wooden patio catching their breath. A white Subaru station wagon sat in a snow covered car park. There was no doorbell.
"Here goes everything," Xander knocked.
A few moments later, a woman opened the door. Her wolf-gray hair curled tightly against her scalp, and the numerous wrinkles lining her face drifted in an upwards position, showing folds of laugh lines. She peered at them curiously from blue, cats-eye glasses, her eyes a washed out topaz. She was dressed in a loose fitting afghan dress. Three cats mewled at the visitors from her ankles.
"Can I help you?"
"Mrs. Christenson?" Xander held out his hand, a winning smile that he hoped masked his exhaustion stretching across his face. "We're here to see Joanna."
"She's out with her grandfather, grocery shopping." Mrs. Christenson looked from Xander to Dawn, one raven eyebrow creasing her forehead. "Are you friends of hers from school?"
"No, ma'am." Dawn held out a pamphlet. "We're from the Helsing Institute in Cleveland. It's the newest branch of the Council Girls School in Oxford, England."
Mrs. Christenson took the pamphlet, looking it over. "You're recruiting, then?"
"Yes, ma'am." Xander slid his abandoned right hand back into his pocket. "I'm Xander Harris, and this is Dawn Summers. Joanna was brought to our attention by the, er, admissions board. We're very excited to meet her, and hope she'll consider the Institute to continue her, er, studies."
"Come on inside then," Mrs. Christenson stepped to one side, and the cats swirled to follow her movements. "Have a seat in the living room, and tell me more about your institution."
Moments later, Xander and Dawn were seated on a beautiful brown leather couch. Mrs. Christenson brought them both drinks, and sat down in a wooden chair across from them.
"I've never heard of the Helsing Institute, or the . . . what was it? The Council School?"
Xander leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and running through the cover story that Giles had worked out for them. The school had to have a public face, and the fact that the Watcher's Council had been working a similar plan for years was their only advantage. "The Council School for Girls is one of the oldest institutions in England. It's a very elite institution devoted to helping young women with certain qualities to reach their full potential. The Helsing Institute has just been founded to bring the same advantages that the Council School has been offering English girls to America."
"I see." Mrs. Christenson glanced down at the pamphlet. "How large is your enrollment?"
"We only have about thirty girls in attendance, right now." Dawn sipped her hot chocolate. "Ages ranging from fourteen to eighteen. But we hope to have as many as one thousand by the beginning of the next school year, ranging from as young as eight to college aged girls."
"And you want Joanna to attend next year?" Mrs. Christenson sat back. "She's seventeen years old, in her junior year. I don't know if its best that she leave home now."
"Actually, Mrs. Christenson," Xander took a deep breath. They had to convince the woman to let Joanna go. "We were hoping to have her transfer in this semester. Joanna is a very special young woman, and we think she'd benefit greatly from the program that the Helsing Institute has to offer."
"Please understand, Mr. Harris,"
"Call me Xander."
"Xander then, that Joanna has had a very tough time recently. Her parents passed away only a few years ago, and my husband and I are the only family she has left. We want her to have all the advantages she can, and that includes as normal a home life as possible."
"Of course, Mrs. Christenson. We understand that often times family is one of the best things for a girl to have. But at the Helsing Institute she'll be given opportunities to understand herself and improve the world that she'll never have here in Bethesda."
Dawn set her mug down, glancing at Xander. "I know what its like to lose your parents, ma'am." She swallowed, and caught Xander's worried look. "My own mother died two years ago, and my father abandoned my sister and I before that. But the students and staff at the Institute are like a family. The girls all share a special bond, and Xander and the rest of the staff are all wonderful, caring confidants. They don't just look out for the students' academic well being, but for their mental and social health as well."
Mrs. Christenson patted Dawn's hand, and let her eyes drift over to a photograph of a cheerful young woman, her arms around an older couple, obviously the girl's parents. "Joanna is a special girl," she looked back at the two on the couch in front of her. "But she doesn't make friends easily. She needs a stable life, with people she knows."
"Or perhaps she needs to be around girls her own age, who understand and are going through the same life changes that she herself is experiencing."
"I just don't know, Ms. . . Dawn. Cleveland is so far away from everything she's ever known."
Xander tapped the pamphlet in her hands. "I understand. But many of the girls have traveled from as far away as Ireland, and even China. Please, take the time to review the information, and talk to your husband about it. I think you'll find that the Helsing Institute is a wonderful opportunity for Joanna, one where she'll be able to get out and see the world, and perhaps form the friendships she'll need to survive in the real world."
Mrs. Christenson sighed. "We will, of course. But we don't have that much money, and with Joanna going off to college in only a little while. . . ."
"We're prepared to offer her a full scholarship, including transportation costs. We'll be in town for a week, so don't hesitate to call us if you have any questions."
"Of course." Mrs. Christenson stood, the interview obviously coming to an end. "Thank you, Xander, Dawn. I hope you enjoy your time in our area."
The front door opened again, and a deeply tanned, healthy older man came in, holding two paper sacks. "Allison, we're home!" He turned, spotted the visitors, and froze. "Oh. Hello."
"Marcus, these are Xander Harris and Dawn Summers, from the Helsing Institute in Cleveland."
A young woman with brown hair pulled back in a bun burst in behind Marcus, two sacks in each arm, with three more cloth bags dangling from her left elbow. Xander smiled, spotting the gossamer mist that swirled around her body, announcing to him that this was Joanna, the slayer. Of course, the fact that there was no humanly way a girl of her size, only five feet tall and slightly built, could ever have handled the load she was carrying with ease, was also a tell tale sign.
"They'd like Joanna to attend their school."
"I already go to school, Grandma!" Joanna bustled past her grandfather on the way to the kitchen.
"I know dear," Mrs. Christenson stood to follow her family into the kitchen, then turned back to Xander. "Wait here just a moment, Xander. I'll see if she'd like to talk with you."
Xander and Dawn sat back down on the couch, finishing their beverages.
"Well, that could have gone better," Dawn set her now empty mug down.
"We got our foot in the door, and our cover story out. If we convince Joanna to go, her grandmother will let her." Xander turned to face his friend. "You didn't have to bring up your mother."
"No, but I think it helped."
"Yeah, I think so too."
Joanna came out of the kitchen and leaned against the doorway to the living room. "I have a project to do for history over in Cabin John." She crossed her arms over her chest; she didn't look very enthusiastic. "Gran says you should drive me there."
end part 1