Well, damn, this one turned out quite fast didn't it? Life has been less hectic than normal. That's my excuse anyway. By the way, one reviewer has asked about Giles and his mug that bore the strange devide HIPY PAPY. I refer you all to the time when Pooh Bear talked to Owl about Eeyore's present. In the A.A. Milne story I stress. Enjoy. (By the way, it's been a while since I put up a disclaimer. Ok, I don't own these characters. Humph. Sulking now.)
He was in the middle of removing Kate Moss's bra with his teeth when all of a sudden she started to wail. Lindsey frowned. It was a nice day, the bed was next to the sea, the pina coladas were chilling nicely under the ice sculpture of the giant koala bear and they hadn't even got to the sex yet. The wail got louder and louder and it was just like…
His eyes sprang open and he glared balefully at the phone next to his bed. Typical. That had about to be a really hot dream and instead he had been awoken by his goddamned phone. His eyes dropped to the alarm clock next to it. It was 5.30am? Who the hell would ring him at that hour on a Sunday morning? Then the glare turned to a frown. The phone was wailing. That meant that-
His hand shot out from the sheets and grabbed the receiver so fast that he almost dropped it. "McDonald," he snapped tersely.
There was an odd noise as whatever security system Wolfram & Hart was using clicked in and then a voice started to speak in the stilted tones of a recorded message: "Recall. All personnel are recalled to Wolfram & Hart. This is not a drill. Recall."
He stared at the phone in total disbelief. As long as he had worked for the firm he'd never heard of a general recall announcement. According to the old-timers the last time that it had happened was when Nixon went down in flames in 1974 after the Senior Partners received a warning not to even think about interfering.
Putting the phone back on its cradle he shot out of bed and into his closet to pull out a shirt and tie, which he hurriedly put on as he started the coffee machine, spilling some of the ground coffee as he did so, and rammed two pieces of bread into the toaster. Darting back to the closet he pulled on some underwear, grabbed a pair of pants, fell over the bed as he tried to walk and pull at the same time and then grabbed a pair of socks and some shoes.
Back in the kitchen, putting on the socks with one hand as he poured the coffee with the other, he stared out of the window. A recall. What the hell was going on? There was a springing noise behind him and he grabbed the toast as it shot into the air, stifling a curse at how hot it was. A quick smear of butter and he was munching toast as he put his shoes on, brushing crumbs off his socks. The coffee was ready now and he took a few sorely needed gulps, before bolting the rest of his toast and then dashing for the door, grabbing his briefcase on the way.
By the time Lindsey pulled into the car park he was feeling really freaked. The place was filling up fast with bewildered Wolfram & Hart personnel, all in various degrees of dishevelment and all displaying the kind of bewilderment that he was feeling. The lobby was even worse – it sounded as if everyone was busy talking at the same time. As soon as one of the security officers laid eyes on him he came over.
"Mr McDonald? Mr Manners has asked for everyone from his team to be in Conference Room 1 ASAP."
Nodding, Lindsey made for the elevators, joining up with Lee as the other lawyer darted through the crowd. He had coffee stains on his shirt, fortunately mostly hidden by his tie and he was red-eyed.
"I don't suppose you have any idea about what's going on?"
"Nope," replied Lindsey, jabbing his thumb on the button for the 6th Floor. "General recall, that's all I know."
"Typical," the thin lawyer groused. "It would happen on a Sunday."
As they exited the elevator they could see that the room was starting to fill up with puzzled lawyers. Lindsey frowned slightly as he looked at the glass partition. At least they'd been able to get Wolfit's blood cleaned up. Sitting down he stared around and then stopped. Lilah was sitting almost opposite him, looking as cool as a cucumber, immaculately dressed and without a hair out of place. He had to admit that he admired her sang-froid. The rest of her he would have loved to drop into a vat of acid and then sit back with a bucket of popcorn to watch her messy and painful death. He could make a lot of money by selling tickets for a start. She shot him a cool glance as if she could feel his dislike for her and then looked around the room, coming close to curling her lip at the state of some of the people coming in and slumping into chairs.
After a few minutes there was a clatter of feet in the corridor outside and then Holland Manners swept into the room. Lindsey stared. Normally Holland was neat and tidy and in full control of his features. Today he looked rumpled. His tie was loose, his shirtsleeves were rolled up and he was frowning direfully. He reached his chair at the head of the table and looked around the room.
"Everyone's finally here, good. Now listen up, because we have a situation here. At 2.10am last night one of the Seers on the upper floors had a vision. A Level Five vision to be precise."
There was a stunned silence. Lindsey leant back in his chair thoughtfully. Visions came in different levels of clarity and intensity. A Level One was a vague feeling that something might happen. A Level Two was what many people might describe as déjà vu. A Level Three was a murky glimpse and a Level Four was what most prophecies were – a general idea with a lot of missing details. A Level Five was very rare, being clear, powerful and containing a lot of detail that could be extremely helpful.
"What were the details?" he asked carefully.
Holland looked at him. "Unfortunately it was a very brief glimpse as the Seer's brain couldn't take the power involved. She had enough time to scream 'Sunnydale' and 'Old One' before her head exploded."
Several people around the room winced. The power involved in that kind of vision was massive. That or something wanted to remain hidden. Either way it wasn't good.
Holland leant on the desk and looked around with eyes that were full of icy resolve. "I don't have to stress too much that the Senior Partners take anything involving the Old Ones extremely seriously. The old demons were powerful and very destructive. While the destructive part is fine with us, the powerful part isn't. They've ordered a full investigation into all the possibilities.
"Now," he said as he moved to sit down in his chair, "The odds are that the Sunnydale mentioned is the Hellmouth. There are a few other towns by that name, and the firm is looking at these carefully, but we're acting under the assumption that the Seer meant Sunnydale California. Which brings up a new set of problems."
"The Arrangement," said Lee flatly.
"Exactly. This means that we can't investigate directly." Holland leant back in his own seat and steepled his fingers. "But we can investigate indirectly. I want everyone to pull all your notes and case files relating to the Hellmouth, even indirectly. I want a full analysis of every event going back however far as you need to go. Wilkins has been around a long time, but Wolfram & Hart was around the day that the first caveman discovered the joys of hitting the caveman next door with a large pointy rock. If an Old One is returning then there will be signs and portents. If an Old One is being consulted there will be signs and portents. There always are, the damn things drop out of trees sometimes. Get to work people, the Senior Partners are impatient."
As the room emptied fast – using the words 'Senior Partners' and 'impatient' tended to have that effect – Lindsey stopped and winced internally as he heard Holland call: "Lindsey, I need a word." Trying to forget the mental image of Wolfit's brains being spattered across the wall, he turned back. Holland was looking at the files that were now partly spread across the desk. Then he looked up. "Lindsey, I need you to go through the Arrangement with a fine toothcomb. Look for any loopholes, any way that we can get a toe in the door of that damn place. When you were negotiating it, you said that you had a feeling that he was up to something I think?"
Taking a deep breath Lindsey cast his mind back. "Yes sir. He seemed to spin out some things, like the legal rights of demonic entities, too much, whilst conceding things like business arrangements too quickly. He seemed to be trying to make it feel like business as usual, but that it really didn't matter as long as he got the deal done."
There was a long pause as Holland stared at a point on the ceiling, mulling this over. "Interesting," he said eventually. "Wilkins has been around for a century or more. He's a good negotiator. And very savvy. I thought that he was too clever to get involved with the Old Ones. Maybe I was wrong. Unless…" His eyes narrowed. "Well, let's not get too ahead of ourselves. Look at the Arrangement and also take a look at your notes from the negotiations. See if there was anything that stands out."
Lindsey nodded. "Yes sir." As he left the room he found himself wondering what the hell was going on and if this Xander Harris had any idea.
The sound of two lightsabres igniting at the same time brought Giles' eyebrows up and his face around the door to his office. The two Jedi were standing there opposite each other, holding their weapons in the same defensive pose.
"Now," Xander was saying, "You're going to find that there are changes involved with lightsabre fighting when compared to sword fighting. For one thing, using a lightsabre can require more balance and finesse."
This was true, mused Giles. When he had seen Xander fighting the Sith version of himself earlier that year he had been amazed by the flowing nature of the attacks, the way that the two men had flowed from position to position.
"Slicing through something with a lightsabre can be very easy due because of the blade. But," stressed the Jedi, "We're going to have to get you started on fast responses. You already use the Force in your attacks. Using a lightsabre will allow you to pick up the pace against the things that we fight. So we're going to go with a twin-track approach. Hone reflexes again and practice fighting."
He shut his lightsabre down and reached into his pocket. "Here's something I've been working on for a while, and you have no idea how it took me to build," he said, pulling out a silver globe that fitted into the palm of his hand. It had small indentations staggered along its surface and it looked vaguely familiar. Then he smiled. "Here's the quote you've been waiting for: Stretch out with your feelings!" Then he flipped something on top of the globe and threw it in the air. There was a sudden hum of power and suddenly the object was hanging in the air about six feet off the ground. Giles gaped incredulously but Oz seemed to take it in his stride.
"Is this my Millennium Falcon moment?" asked Oz as he brought his lightsabre up into a pose that Giles recognized as being one of the main defensive positions.
"Yup," replied Xander. "But I don't think that you're going to need the blast shield down on any helmet."
The globe seemed to almost sniff the air for a second and then darted to one side, turning slightly as it did. Then it sprang up, almost too fast for Giles to see and spat out two red shards of energy. But Oz was just as fast, the lightsabre flashing out and to one side to absorb both.
"Good," said Xander approvingly as the target drone buzzed once and then moved around into another attacking position. "But you need to hone your reaction time. Use the Force to feel not just where the drone is, but where it's going to go next. Anticipate, focus and act."
Giles returned to his office and sat down feeling slightly dazed. Life could throw a bit of a googlie your way sometimes. Every time he thought that he was getting used to the Hellmouth it threw up something new. Then he sighed and returned his gaze to the board in front of him. There were still a few areas that he was unclear about.
It was a good spot. Nice and open, plenty of fresh air, a solid podium to stand on and an audience to dozens of empty chairs. Richard Wilkins placed his hands on each side of the stand and took a deep breath. "You've done a good job."
Snyder smiled awkwardly. It looked like an expression that the man almost never used. Shame he was such a rodent, but you had to use the tools you were given sometimes, and Snyder had been a real find. He was devious, emotionally stunted and had the morals of a degenerate weasel. That said, he was a good choice for principal, as he ruled the school with a rod of iron and had got a large number of students through to graduation.
That suited Wilkins perfectly. The more the merrier.
"Seriously, you've done very well. And your efforts will not go unrewarded, let me tell you. Yes sir, all debts will be paid in full."
Snyder looked a bit uncertain about this praise and tried the thing with his lips that was normally called a smile again. "Thank you sir," he said after a moment. "If you need anything else for the ceremony, please let me know at once."
Looking out over the place where he planned to Ascend, Wilkins shook his head slightly. "Looks good from this standpoint." Then he hopped down from the lectern. "Well, I need to go polish my speech. Should be a good one. Very positive, very full of power," he said, smiling slightly. Oh yes. Full of many things and then topped off by something that ought to bring the house down. Guaranteed memorable. "I'll just take myself off. Have a wander through the halls and leave you to the final tweaks that you do so well."
Leaving a preening Snyder behind him Wilkins put his hands in his pockets and ambled off, whistling under his breath.
Holland looked up as Lindsey knock on the open door of the office. If anything he looked even more haggard than before. "Come in," he said crisply, closing the folder he had been reading and adding it to the growing pile on his desk. "What have you got?"
Wolfram & Hart's original copy of the Arrangement made a satisfyingly heavy clunk as Lindsey laid it on the desk and slumped into a seat. "It's pretty watertight sir. He may have been trying to conceal something, but he still made the damn thing as comprehensive as possible. It keeps us out. If we so much as send a snatch squad into the place they come back in bodybags, provided that there's enough left for a bodybag. And it's non-negotiable. He's got us over a barrel sir."
Holland sighed deeply and pulled the Arrangement towards him. "I was afraid of that. The Senior Partners are not going to pleased about this. And they can't intervene in this situation. He made sure of that. They can't even lean on his contacts in the demon hierarchy – they either don't know anything or are out of touch."
"There is one small loophole sir," said Lindsey slowly.
Holland looked up quickly. "Which is?"
"There's a provision for Wolfram & Hart to send a single representative – the person who last negotiated the Arrangement – into Sunnydale if and only if 'There exists a valid crisis which would result in the breakdown of confidence between the two parties and which can only be resolved by urgent negotiations.'" He looked at Holland grimly. "It's on page 318, sub-paragraph 108 (a). Seems to be an emergency clause. Never been used as far as I know."
His superior nodded, his eyes spacing out slightly as he thought hard. "Never needed to be used, you mean," growled Holland as he leant forwards and opened the legal documents to the right page. "Hum. Yes, quite right. That could just be our foot in the door." He looked up again. "Which would mean that you go, as the latest person to negotiate it."
"Yes sir," said Lindsey feeling as grim as he probably looked.
Shooting him a careful glance Holland picked up a phone and dialed swiftly. "Lindsey McDonald will need a car as soon as possible. No problems are to be permitted. Set it up." The phone went down again. "I'm authorising you to go to Sunnydale as quickly as possible. If Wilkins notices you in the town, then tell him that there's a problem. Be as inventive as you like. But find out what the hell is going on."
"Yes sir. What if I need backup?"
"I'm going to have the tactical support squad ready to go if you give the word. They'll be based in Granton, just outside the Sunnydale city limits. If you need them, call me and I'll release them to you. Get moving, Lindsey, we might not have much time here." Holland picked up the phone again and was already speaking into it as Lindsey left the room. It looked like he was going back to the Hellmouth. Only this time in far more dangerous circumstances.
The gang was all here, including Angel, who had been busy chasing up a few contacts in the underworld but who was now lurking in the shadows by the stairs to the book stacks, keeping away from the shards of sunlight that came through the windows. Xander looked around the library, which had a sign on the outside that announced that it was closed for bookkeeping. If his plan worked out properly – and it was still lacking that one vital part – then he was going to miss this place. Alright, it was over the Hellmouth, but he'd had some fun times here, if you could describe planning to avert apocalypses a fun thing to do.
He looked back at the table. Giles had pulled the big strategy board out, with its various pictures of the Mayor, the odd happenings in his administration, the map of Sunnydale and all the other bits of evidence, including the picture of the woman who had become a wraith. He had a feeling that they were linked somehow, but he couldn't say how.
Oz was sitting next to Willow, who was talking quietly to Buffy and Faith. The dark-haired Slayer was grinning lazily at Willow's cheerful comments, mixed in with Buffy's quips. She seemed a lot less strained and hollow than the first time that he'd met her. She seemed happy and accepted, almost thoughtful at times. Giles and Wesley were at the board, muttering together over aspects of the Ascension, whilst Amy and Cordelia were quietly talking at the back. Cordelia had been genuinely moved at the fact that he had bought her dress for her for the Prom, something that had probably caught her totally unaware. In a nice way of course. And there was Anya, looking as if she needed a wild horse to drag her out of there. She looked as if she needed Jonathan, who was off talking to a local priest who just happened to be his cousin. They needed a lot of Holy Water if this was to work – or rather if his reserve plan to cover every eventuality was to work. That was something he had definitely picked up from his Obi-Wan memories. As a General, think about what else might happen as well as what might go right or wrong. The more eventualities you had in your head, the less chance that a nasty surprise would bite you on the ass. He thought about Genosis and shuddered slightly. Always plan to cover as many eventualities as possible.
Then he frowned. Something odd was approaching the library. It wasn't a vampire, but it didn't feel entirely human. It felt… freaky. By now Oz could sense it as well, because he suddenly stood up.
Buffy looked at the two of them and then she and Faith were on their feet as well, looking at the doors, which was where the two Jedi were now staring at.
"Giles, something's coming," muttered Xander and then the doors swung open to reveal Richard Wilkins the Third. He was dressed in cream slacks, a light blue shirt, a yellow sweater was knotted carelessly around his neck and had his hands in his pockets. He blinked slightly at the sight of the reception committee and then smiled toothily. "Well hello there. So this is Slayer Central. My gosh, and a reception committee for me as well."
Wilkins looked around and then shot a look at Xander and Oz. "Or should that be the Jedi Temple? I don't think that Sunnydale looks much like Coruscant, depending on how the books have described it. Shame. Might be neat to see a place like that." He smiled easily, but Xander could see the hard edge behind the affable front.
Still with his hands in his pockets Wilkins wandered over to the pile of returned books, before reaching out to pick one up. "Pride and Prejudice. Ah. Good book. It's such a relief to see that the youth of Sunnydale still read some real classics. Develops the mind, reading. Widens your knowledge. Expands the brain." Wilkins paused and smiled briefly at this last point, his tongue flickering quickly out of the corner of his mouth as he looked at them almost slyly, as if something amused him about that last part of the sentence, a joke that they wouldn't get.
Then he put the book down and turned around, sniffing slightly in the air. "I smell fear. I don't blame you. Lovely smell though. Nice taste."
Xander stared impassively back at Wilkins. "No fear here. You must have the wrong address."
This brought another smile to the face of the Mayor. "Oh, the Jedi mantra! Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate and all that stuff. Wonderful gibberish by the way."
"If you're mocking me, all you're achieving is wasted breath. Mocking successfully requires pride and I'm just a Jedi. No pride here. Just resolve."
Wagging a finger at him as he crossed the room Wilkins smiled. "Well, it was worth a try. How's your Padawan learner by the way?"
"Jedi," said Oz impassively, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on Willow's arm.
"Really? Already? That was fast. Learnt everything yet?" Wilkins looked up from the bookstore, where he had been running a finger over the wires. "Tut tut, you need to dust more in here. Dust is very bad for books Mr Giles, I'm surprised at you."
"We had other concerns," said the Watcher, looking at Wilkins through narrowed eyes.
"So I can see," came the reply as Wilkins walked over to the board and looked at the assembled pieces of paper and photographs, wiping the dust off his finger in a fastidious manner with a handkerchief. "My, my, you found that old picture of me and Wilhelm. Odd guy, very insecure. Half English, you know. Well, half English royal family, there's a difference. Great hat though, looked as if he had a chicken on it. Keen on education and killing things." The smile came and went again, more lingering this time. "Great minds think alike." His gaze shifted to another picture. "Dick Nixon was different case. Brilliant but I never trusted him. Kind of slimy, even for a politician. Broke the great rule – never get found out. Plus he owed me fifty bucks. Good thing for him that I never charged him compound interest."
Wilkins turned back again to face them. "You've been very busy. I'm impressed. Of course you must know that there's no chance of your defeating me."
"We've seen worse odds. Seen worse things," said Buffy in a very quiet and forceful voice. "We've beaten the odds a lot of times."
"What happens when your luck runs out?"
"We make our own."
Wilkins looked at Giles with a smile. "You know, you've brought up this girl to have guts. I like that. I'm going to open her up when I ascend and floss my teeth with them."
Giles stood up quickly, but Xander was at his side in a flash, putting a hand out to grab his shoulder. "He's not worth it, Giles."
This made Wilkins shake his head in mock-sorrow. "You know, that's what irritates me about you Jedi. You have no sense of humour about certain things. Very boring. I'm going to enjoy killing you." He looked around. "In fact I'm going to enjoy killing all of you. But especially you," he said, looking at Buffy as his eyes hardened. "You've been a menace to the well-being of my operations here since you first arrived. Poking your nose in everything, meddling with things that you don't understand, could never even comprehend if you lived as long as I have. Mr Harris and his Jedi pup here are aberrations, but a Slayer in Sunnydale has all kinds of knock-on effects that I've had to deal with. Especially as you were stupid enough to get yourself killed and spawn another ignorant slattern."
For a second the look became a glare and then just as suddenly the smile was back. "Well, can't stand here and blather! I have to polish off my graduation address. You should stick around and hear it – it's going to be memorable in all kinds of ways and-" He stopped dead in his tracks, quivered slightly and then walked over to the board. Then he reached out and ripped a piece of paper off to stare at the picture of Suzanne Morecombe.
Then he looked around it, his eyes darting to the various articles about her disappearance, the murder of Matt Stevens, the collapse of the Second Sunnydale Savings & Loan and finally Oz's drawings of the face of the wraith.
"Ah," he said eventually in a cold voice that seemed to reverberate slightly. "You found Suzanne. What a shame. Have you tried to vanquish her yet?"
"She's buried in a small graveyard in the desert," said Giles softly, looking at Wilkins carefully. Xander raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged slightly, as if to say let's play this one out. "So yes, she was vanquished."
Wilkins wrenched his face from the board and glared at him. His face looked blotchy and one of his eyes was twitching. He looked as if a murderous rage was only just being held in check. Then he seemed to take a deep breath and calm down a little.
"Something else to hold against you, Mr Giles," he said through almost clenched teeth. "I went to a lot of trouble to punish her. She should have suffered a lot longer for her betrayal of me. Her own great-grandfather as well. So much potential and she threw it away on that thieving piece of filth Stevens. Even had his spawn. They planned to run away with half the money that they'd stolen but I found out first. Swapped the money. Had her herded into a place where there was no escape. No hope. Just despair. A wound leading to massive blood loss. And a pointless existence as a wraith. As for him, he made a good sacrifice to a hell god who need some… delicacies." His eyes gleamed in an odd and rather unsettling way at this last bit. Then he looked at Giles, who had walked over to Buffy.
"Miss Summers, I'm going to rip your limbs off and then stick your helpless bleeding living torso on the podium to scream whilst I kill everyone else at the Graduation first. Including your Watcher."
"You sure do talk a lot. Oh wait, you're a politician, it comes with the territory, right?" countered Buffy, looking at her nails dismissively. Then she looked up. "Why are you so ticked that she was vanquished when you had her turned into a dribbling dark thing in the first place?"
"She was family," said the Mayor as he walked to the doors. "I was going to vanquish her myself in a few decades, once she'd learnt her lesson."
"She was an insane, evil phantasm, who murdered anyone who came near her," objected Giles.
"You need to see the big picture. And she was family." Wilkins paused and looked around at them. "See you at the Graduation ceremony. Wear clothes that can be easily digested. And don't eat too many chillies."
As the doors closed behind him Giles expelled a long breath of air. "Well that was…. Unexpected. And quite interesting."
"What, because he wants to eat us all?" asked Faith, looking at the picture of Morecombe. "She does look a bit like him, if you squint a lot."
Giles looked at Xander, who nodded somberly. "I think we have the missing element in our plan, Giles."
"Indeed," said the Watcher, looking suddenly slightly haunted. "And I must say that the missing element frightens me somewhat."
This brought Buffy's head around. "Plan? You guys have a plan to take care of the giant snake? Come on, spill!"
In response Giles held up a finger in admonishment and then walked to the doors, where he pulled out a key and locked them firmly. Then he walked back, throwing the key at Xander, who was already walking back to the doors at the back of the library. "Yes, well, when Xander gets back from making sure that the library is secure, he and I will explain. We've been able to use some of the knowledge of General Kenobi that Xander can remember to formulate a plan." He paused to pull off his glasses and clean them. "It's, ah, risky, I have to say. It involves a certain amount of extreme danger. And it will make an impression on the high school. But it is the best way to deal with the Mayor." He turned to grab the frame for the blackboard that he'd stashed away in his office earlier that day. As he placed the blackboard on it he turned to face Xander as he came back from locking up. "I believe that now would be a good time to show our hand. Xander. If you would be so kind as to explain?"
Xander put the piece of chalk down and turned from the blackboard to face the others. There was a long silence that was finally broken by Oz leaning forwards and simply saying: "Interesting."
Buffy raised her eyebrows at him. He had laid it out very clearly, obviously in full Obi-Wan mode with added Xanderness, but the ambition of what he'd been hatching with Giles had taken her by surprise. "Xander it's a bit risky isn't it?"
He nodded slowly, walking over with his arms clasped in front of him, his hands gripping his forearms and sliding into his sleeves. "Yes, it is. But we don't have many options. We need to draw him away from the others, we need to neutralize the horde of vampires that he'll be bringing with him and we need to corral him into a place where he can be disabled and then killed. And all without him suspecting anything. That's going to take tactics and timing, which are the pre-requisites of any successful military plan."
There was another silence. This time Willow broke it as she looked at Oz with large eyes. "It's going to be very dangerous," she said hesitantly.
He smiled down at her. "If it means taking care of a large snake that wants to eat you, then I can do 'very dangerous.'"
"The Mayor's pet marine, Tagget, is going to be there," said Angel thoughtfully. "And he's been recruiting some vampire muscle. Some big muscle."
"That's why we need you and your group," replied Xander, jabbing his finger at the plan again to the spot marked 'ARC'. For some reason his lips were twitching sardonically as he looked at the label and Buffy could see that the word 'Troopers' has been erased beneath it. "Angel, you and the Reserve Company need to come at them from behind and to one side, to catch them in a crossfire. Be careful – there's going to be a lot of holy water flying around once Jonathan opens up."
The Angel nodded thoughtfully and then looked at Xander appraisingly. "It's a good plan."
"There's no such thing as a good plan, there are just plans that succeed and those that fail. Once this thing starts it's going to become unpredictable – all battles do. We just need to cover as many bases as we can. Any more questions?"
"Yeah, I'll ask the obvious one," said Cordelia with her eyebrows raised, "Where the hell are you going to get that much explosives?"
This earned her a very Xanderish grin. "Leave that to us. Oz, we need your van tonight. We need to requisition some equipment in the name of the Galactic Republic."
"Good afternoon. My name is Lindsey McDonald and I have a reservation for the night," said Lindsey as he smiled at the attractive brunette at the main desk of the hotel. She smiled back at him as she searched through the computer that dealt with the guest list for the Sunnydale Majestic Hotel and then looked up.
"Yes Mr McDonald, Suite 13 is reserved in your name, on the fifth floor. Here is your key and I'll call for someone to help you with your baggage."
"Thanks but I can cope."
"Certainly. The elevators are around the corner. Have a nice day."
"God I hate that phrase," muttered Lindsey under his breath as he walked to the elevators and jabbed the up button. It sounded so trite. The lift dinged and he got in.
His suite looked well worth the money that the company was paying – it was large, expensive and private, but he still used the vampire repelling and spell nullifying amulet that Wolfram & Hart provided all employees who were staying out of town. You never knew, especially in Sunnydale.
He unpacked quickly, connecting up his laptop and laying out the various clothes that he'd brought with him, before he stood next to the windows and took out his cell phone. Hitting speed dial he then waited until the encryption software kicked in before it started to ring on the other side.
"Lindsey," said the tired voice of Holland Manners, "I take it that you're there."
"Yes sir, I just got in. Can I ask if there have been any developments?"
"None. By the way we pulled the files on the Slayers that are there in Sunnydale. We're uploading everything now. You should have them soon. If anyone knows anything that might be about to happen, the Slayers might. You are authorised to investigate all aspects of the Hellmouth, Lindsey."
His scalp crawled. "You want me to contact the Slayers?"
"No, just keep an eye on them. If they're patrolling normally then they don't think that anything's wrong. If they're worried about something – like an Old One returning – then it'll show. Good luck Lindsey. We're all counting on you. The Senior Partners have asked me to tell you that you have their full support." The line went dead.
Great, though the Lawyer as he stared over Sunnydale. I have the full support of a bunch of evil demon lords and assorted lawyers. That's reassuring. Then he turned back to his laptop as it beeped. A large amount of data had been emailed to him and he sat down to look it over, rubbing the back of his neck reflectively as he did. Then he paused and reread a part. Interesting. Okay, time to go back to school.
Boredom can be a terrible thing and at that particular moment Corporal Bob Grammell was bored out of his skull. Guard duty sucked, big time. All he had to do was walk the perimeter of the Army base twice an hour. That was it. There wasn't much else. The guardroom had a coffee machine, so the highlight of the night was sometimes changing the filter. That was enough to bring him up in goosebumps. Not.
He sighed, shifted his rifle slightly on his shoulder and walked on. Orders were orders. In this case orders were pointless orders. Who in their right mind would want to steal from this place? Everything was locked up tighter than Fort Knox. True there was a large amount of ammunition and explosives around, but to get to this place you had to go through security that was truly scary. Plus there were the guards – like him. Fearless protectors of the base and all that crap.
He let out another sigh. The last time that there had been any excitement had been when Harriman shot that gopher by mistake. Trudging on he turned a corner and then perked up slightly. He could hear a car engine. That was odd. Nothing was due for a week. The sound grew louder and then stopped and he could hear the sound of doors opening. It seemed to be at the other end of the bunker and he picked up the pace slightly.
When he reached the other end he paused in confusion. A civilian van was parked outside the bunker and four men and a blonde girl were loading explosives into the back of it. They looked like civilians and one of them had stopped and was walking towards him.
"Who the hell are you?" snapped Grammell, unslinging his rifle and bringing it up to cover them. "Let's see some ID now while I call the guardroom."
The man – a dark haired guy who seemed to be quite young and who had an odd cylinder attached to his belt – shook his head slowly. "You're not going to call the guardroom," he said reassuringly.
"I'm not going to call the guardroom," repeated Grammell, a warm and lazy feeling starting to creep over him.
"And you don't need to see our identification."
"I don't need to see your identification." The warm and fuzzy feeling was very strong now. There was no threat here. He felt almost sleepy.
"You're going to patrol the far corner of the base and forget all about us,"
"I'm going to patrol the far side and forget about you," he said and strode off slowly, returning his rifle to its earlier position. After a while he shook his head. He felt as if something was nagging at the back of his mind. Then he shrugged. It couldn't have been important.
Xander stared after the retreating figure of the guard and then strode back to the bunker. "The guards here are terrible," he muttered to Giles, who was busy lugging a large box marked 'C-4' with a moderate amount of unconcern.
"Yes, well, they are stuck in the middle of the Californian desert, with little to guard against but coyotes. This place appears to be a trifle dull," said the Watcher as the crate he was carrying thumped into the back of Oz's van and causing Wesley to flinch slightly. "Relax Wesley," he said wearily, "This stuff won't explode without a detonator. You can place some plastic explosives into a fire and they won't explode."
"I'm not sure that that's very reassuring," said the younger Watcher. He looked at the contents of the van critically. "Is that enough yet?"
"Not quite," mused Xander as he assessed the collection of explosives. "A bit more. This, plus the extra dynamite we kept from making the Judge go boom and the ammonium nitrate that we got from that farm store should be an interesting combination."
"You mean go boom, big time," said Buffy as she strode out with another crate balanced effortlessly on one hand.
"When are you going to unveil the plan to the others? I mean the non-Scoobies," Oz asked as he placed another crate of C-4 in the van. "Which will be interesting."
"When we get back and talk to the others," said Xander, flipping through the list of things to do in his head. A lot to do.
The thing about lock picking is that if you have the right tools it's rather easy. The sense of accomplishment when a lock yields to some gentle persuasion can be very satisfying. The fact that the first door that Lindsey tried turned out to be unlocked therefore made it a bit of an anticlimax.
The lawyer put his unused tools into a side pocket and slipped through the doors into the darkened corridor. In front of him he could see a large poster that read: "We Salute The Graduating Class Of '99!" in tacky silver lettering. He shrugged and looked down at the small plan of the school that he'd drawn, which was just visible in the light. Okay, it was this way…
Wolfram & Hart produced some good clothing for running around in the night, and what he was wearing was pretty much state of the art. It was dark but not black – just shades of grey and green that allowed him to merge with the shadows quite nicely. The shoes were a good touch as well – good enough to run in and also quiet enough to sneak away if need be.
He darted across the mouth of a corridor and moved on. This was one of the few options that he had. The Mayor's residence was a fortress, alive with guards, not all of whom were human-shaped. The chances of his being able to waltz in and then emerge alive were quite low. Therefore a quick reconnaissance of the spot where the Slayers hung out was a better bet. It was still insanely dangerous, but the odds of making it back were slightly higher. The Slayers were unlikely to bend him over an altar and remove his beating heart with a blunt spoon for a start.
As he passed the trophy case he paused and then looked back at it. He had the oddest feeling that he was being watched. He looked around and then shrugged. Imagination. Although it was odd, the eyes on one of the cheerleading statues seemed to follow him when he moved. It looked a bit tacky anyway. Plus there was definitely something wrong with the eyes – they looked mad. He shook his head and moved on.
When he saw the sign marked 'Library' he paused. He could see the doors quite clearly and a light was on in the room. It was very quiet though. He sneaked up to the window and carefully peered in. There was no one in sight, although someone had been there. The table was covered in books and there was a large blackboard that had been wiped next to it. There was also a large board that was covered in pictures and papers.
Lindsey put his ear to the door and listened carefully, holding his breath as he did. Nothing. Then he slipped in, moving on noiseless feet, quickly peering over the counter at the office that was off to one side. More nothing. Then he took a better look at the board with the papers. There were several pictures of Wilkins pinned to it and he grinned slightly. Then he saw the words and 'Old One?' and he swore softly. Jackpot. His hand slipped into his pocket and he pulled out a small camera, which he used to snap pictures of everything. Then he stopped and stared. A single word had caught his eye. 'Ascension?' was written in a large bold hand, below which was a number of sketches of a winged something chasing people dressed in old medieval clothing. This did not look good. Wilkins was not planning on calling on an Old One. He was planning to become one.
Lindsey jammed his camera back into a pocket and pulled out his cellphone. He was about to turn it on when something hard and cold was suddenly pressed against his neck. "See anything you like?" drawled a female voice that sounded like sex and chocolate combined.
"Thanks, but I've already shaved once today," he replied, his mind racing. Stupid. He'd been stupid. Should have checked the place out completely.
"Very cute," said the voice. "Drop the phone or I'll give you a shave that'll last the rest of your life."
He dropped the phone.
"Walk over there," said the voice as it gestured slightly with what he could now see was a sword. He sighed and complied. "Turn around. Slowly."
He turned and did his best not to wince. Faith Morgan was standing in front of him, with a sword in one hand and a dagger that looked insanely sharp in the other. Behind her she could see a red-haired girl and a blond, both of whom were holding small fireballs in the palm of their hands. Great. Wonderful. Could this get any worse?
There was a noise at the doors and suddenly they opened to reveal Rupert Giles. The Watcher was carrying a box with the words 'C-4' stenciled on the side and Lindsey's mouth went very dry. Yes, it certainly could get worse.
The Mayor beamed out his best smile at the collection of vampires in the room. They had been assembled by Tagget and were the best around. They might not have been blessed by many brain cells, but they could take orders and were mortally afraid of invoking his displeasure. Good. They'd do what they were told.
"The eclipse will take care of the sun," he said, stressing this part, "So you should have no trouble getting there. Now remember, you're there to herd, not to feed. If I see anyone with blood on their lips, well then they'll have to see me afterwards and I will not be a happy camper." Several vampires flinched uneasily at this. Right then, time to build them up.
"You've been chosen because you're the best. Once this comes out right then I'll be grateful. And I always remember who I'm grateful to, yes sir. Mr Tagget will give you all your assignments. He is to be obeyed implicitly." He looked at a number of blank faces. "What he says goes." The faces relaxed into understanding.
It was a good thing that he wouldn't need to rely on any of this rabble once he had Ascended. That would have just been just terrible. Then he looked over at Mr Tagget and nodded. The vampire hurried off on his little errand. He had a message to deliver.
Xander sensed a slightly raised sense of alarm coming from the library and picked up the pace a little, shifting the box of explosives onto his left shoulder so as to free up his right hand for his lightsabre. When he walked in through the doors his eyebrows rose. The others were gathered around a dark-haired man in his late '20s or early '30s, who was dressed in dark coloured clothing. Giles was holding a phone and a camera in his hands and was scowling at him.
"Who's this guy?"
"A spy," drawled Faith. "I was in the office when this guy slunk in and had a good look at the strategy board. He took some snaps and was about to call someone when I decided that it was time to put a kink in his shorts."
"I am not a spy," said the man. He sounded slightly Texan. He also seemed to be slightly nervous, although given the amount of high explosives in the room, this was understandable. "I have a card in my pocket. Inside my coat. Can I reach for it or will someone slice me in half if I move?"
"I'll reach for it," said Giles, "Who knows what you have there after all." He slipped a hand into the man's coat cautiously and then pulled out a business card that looked extremely expensive. When he looked at the name he stiffened and his face twisted with disgust. "Ah. A lawyer," he said with vast buckets of contempt dribbling off his words.
"Giles, I know that lawyers are bad, according to my dad at least, but I sense something else here," said Xander, looking at the Watcher with some bemusement.
Giles snorted. "You're bloody right." He showed the card to Wesley who also snorted with contempt, before passing it around to the others. "He's from Wolfram & Hart."
"Wolfie and who?" asked a puzzled Buffy. She stared at the card and gave it to Xander. 'Lindsey McDonald, Attorney At Law, Wolfram & Hart' it said.
"Wolfram & Hart, Buffy," said Wesley with a distinct edge to his voice, "Is a law firm that has acted for more evil people than you can imagine. It is, in itself, as thoroughly evil as it is possible to get. So why are you here? Working for Wilkins?"
McDonald's eyes widened. "No! He's not a client of ours. We have a legal agreement with him – we leave Sunnydale alone and he lets us know what's happening here."
"Did he tell you about the Ascension?" asked Giles, looking at the man coldly.
"No, he seems to have forgotten to inform us about that," said McDonald wryly. "One of our seers had a vision. She just had time to say 'Old One' and 'Sunnydale' before her head exploded. That's all that the firm knows."
"And so they sent you?" asked Faith in disbelieving tones, "One guy from a law firm?"
"It's… complicated," he said scowling. "You're sure that he's going to attempt an Ascension?"
"He obtained a set of the Books of Ascension and the Box of Gavrok. Plus we talked to the former deputy Mayor of Sunnydale, one Alan Finch, who was very helpful. I understand that he's in hiding in the Po Valley at the moment, under the protection of the elderly great-uncle of a very senior member of the Vatican who would be very hard to cross. So, yes, we're sure. Why, what can Wolfram & Hart do?"
"Ah… nothing. The legal agreement between the firm and Wilkins is very clear. Wolfram & Hart can't interfere here. The only reason I'm here is that I negotiated the agreement with him last year."
"You were here last year?" asked Oz quietly. He was studying him intently. "Wait a minute – you were at the Bronze during amateur night. You sang that song that the crowd loved."
"Seems a strange place for a lawyer to be," mused Giles thoughtfully. "However, as Wolfram & Hart can't get involved here, that doesn't change matters a great deal. I did wonder why they didn't have an office on the Hellmouth, I must admit. It did seem odd."
"Wilkins blocked them when he built the town," muttered McDonald. "He said at the time that it meant that he could control matters better. They didn't meddle, he sent them information, and it was a win-win situation."
"Until now," said Buffy. "Well, it just goes to show that even skanky evil law firms can get it wrong."
"Now that I know what's going on, I need to report in," McDonald said suddenly. "Once he turns into an Old One he's going to be very powerful and-"
"Thank you, but the day that we accept help from Wolfram & Hart will be the day that I saw my own foot off with a spoon," said Giles flatly. "It's never been a good idea to have anything at all to do with Wolfram & Hart."
"We've got a rapid response group in Granton that could help!"
"With what, machineguns?"
"Well, yes."
"That would not be helpful in a square full of teenagers, which is where he'll be when he changes. No Mr McDonald, we have our own plan to deal with Mayor Wilkins permanently." He paused. "We do however need people on the ground. And we need to keep an eye on you. Can you use a sword?"
"What?"
"A sword. Long metal thing, the pointy end of which goes into your opponent."
"Yes, I can use a sword."
"Well, wonders will never cease. Very well. Contact your… organization and tell them what you know. And then you and I are going to have a little chat."
Holland Manners stared out of the window as he sipped his glass of single malt whiskey. He needed a break from the desk and the pile of paperwork that had been threatening to drown him in red ink. All told the pile could be summarised in one word: nothing. No signs and portents, no prophecies, no dire warnings and no torrents of blood coming from the faucets. Nothing about an Old One that could have sparked any questions. This was either reassuring or troubling, depending on the way that you looked at it. It might be that the threat was either non-existent – summoning an Old One was a very risky business – or that it would be squashed in time. A more pessimistic view was that something – or someone – was suppressing any signs and portents from manifesting themselves. Given what had happened to the seer, this was more along his line of thinking. Besides, moving up the greasy pole of promotion at Wolfram & Hart tended to depend on how paranoid you were, given the level of competition at the firm, and he had a feeling that this was a case where paranoia was both vitally important and necessary.
His phone rang at that point and he wearily turned back to his desk. If that was one of the Senior Partners then he felt another headache coming on. They had a bad habit of talking in booming evil voices over the phone. It was such a cliché.
However, as he looked at the caller display he blinked and grabbed for the receiver. "Lindsey. Good of you to call. Any news?"
"Yes sir," said McDonald. He sounded a bit odd, almost subdued. "I've discovered that Mayor Richard Wilkins is planning an Ascension tomorrow in Sunnydale. Apparently he intends to turn himself into a 60-foot long demon snake at the local High School graduation ceremony."
The headache became a reality. Damn. One of those. Still, that showed a lot of ambition on Richard's part. It was going to be messy as hell, but if you had to aim high when becoming a demon, then an Old One was the jackpot.
Massaging the bridge of his nose with one hand he sighed. "How good is this information."
"Excellent sir. The former deputy Mayor of Sunnydale left quite a confession before the Vatican picked him up and hid him somewhere in Italy."
Holland frowned. "How did you get your hands on this information?"
"I'm sitting in Sunnydale High's library, sir."
He sat up straight in his chair with a jolt. "With the Slayers?"
"Yes sir. They're remarkably paranoid about leaving important information around."
"Be nice now," said a strange female voice not too far away from Lindsey.
"I can't say too much but they're… making plans to deal with the Mayor. In a very permanent way."
"I see." Holland paused. "Are they holding you prisoner?"
"Not quite sir. Let's just say that I'm a guest until the Mayor is dealt with."
"And after that?"
"I've been told I can leave. Very quickly, that's one thing they stressed."
If they survived an Ascension that is, thought Holland. Well, well. How interesting. The chances were that even if they did deal with Wilkins, then they might suffer some collateral damage of their own. Maybe even lose one of the Slayers along the way, which would cheer up the Senior Partners a lot.
"This might mean fighting with them sir. I mean alongside them."
This prompted a thoughtful pause. Stopping the ascension of Wilkins was important. It was just a shame that the Slayers would get all the credit for it. But to have Lindsey there at the death would be a big feather in Holland's cap, as it would show that he was on top of the matter. True, there was a good chance that Lindsey might get killed, probably eaten if Wilkins achieved his demon state, but that was one of those risks that the firm would just have to take. Lindsey might have been handpicked by Holland, but the firm was big enough to take his loss. The firm was big enough to take anyone's loss. It was also a shame that Lindsey wasn't high enough up the pecking order to be brought back from death to serve Wolfram & Hart. If he made it back alive then he really should look for a promotion for the man. That would get the eternal service clause on his contract and his soul would be weighed, stamped and sold to the highest bidder when it came to his death.
" Go ahead, Lindsey. You have permission to take part. Stop Wilkins at all costs. If he breaks out of town the rapid reaction force will join the action from Granton."
"Yes sir. Goodbye."
"Goodbye Lindsey. Good luck."
The phone went dead and Holland replaced the receiver on the cradle. He was thinking hard. Then he picked up the phone again and dialed swiftly. "Sally, tell the administrative staff that Lindsey McDonald's office might be going spare after tomorrow. He's on a particularly difficult assignment and it's possible it might be a permanent one."
The phone went down again and he stood up to walk back to the window. Things were looking up, he thought as he sipped the whiskey. Office space was at a premium at the moment.
"Thanks, boss, but try and sound more sincere," said Lindsey bitterly as he stared at his cellphone. Then he looked around again. The vampire with a soul – Angel – was helping the musician stack some of the boxes of explosives around the stairs that led to the book stacks. They were being supervised by the older Watcher, who had a disturbingly good idea about how to deploy them, and he made a note to have a good look at Rupert Giles's file. He'd bet money that it was interesting.
What was even more interesting was the presence of Alexander Harris. It was odd seeing him in person, and for the first time Lindsey realized why Wilkins had told him about him. He was very good, organized, efficient and seeming to almost anticipate questions. He also seemed to be very un-teenager, rather older than he seemed to be. It was odd. Plus he had an odd device hanging from his belt that looked familiar somehow. The musician had one as well. They rang a faint bell in his mind, but he couldn't work out why. Ah well. He had more important things to worry about. Like this Giles guy, who had suddenly broken off to appear in front of him.
"A word," said the Watcher, and they walked into the office.
"I know a great deal about Wolfram & Hart," said the Brit as he leant against his desk, "As my grandfather served with Khaki Roberts at Nuremberg, one of the British prosecution lawyers in 1947. He found out that some of the Nazis on trial had requested legal aid from your firm. Specifically Goering and Kaltenbrunner. What a surprise."
"I didn't know that," protested Lindsey, feeling baffled and horrified at the same time.
"No, it wasn't Wolfram & Hart's finest hour so to speak. They did send a team to Germany. Just outside Hamburg it had a little accident, shall we say, involving the car they were driving in, a three-tonne lorry full of PIAT ammunition and a Sherman Firefly tank. Very little could be found to be buried. It was something that my grandfather was remarkably proud of."
Lindsey felt something very cold run down his spine and he suppressed the need to swallow nervously. "Your point being?"
"If you betray us – if we kill the mayor and turn around to discover that you've done something evil – your family will have to make sure that it's a closed casket funeral for you. I trust that I make myself clear?"
"Perfectly."
"Good. Where are my manners? A cup of tea?"
"Do you have anything stronger?"
"Ah. Yes." He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a rather dusty hip flask. "Twenty year old single malt. Don't gulp it for heaven's sake, it deserves better than that."
He stared up at the stars as he stood on the roof. It might be – in one way or another – the last time that he ever saw those stars from this spot. Different patterns, different stars and the great dim shape of the Milky Way visible as the Solar System hurtled its way around on its spiral arm. All of a sudden he thought of looking up at the stars that night on Tatooine, when Qui-Gon and Padme were off looking for those hyperspace engine parts. The stars had been very clear that night as well as Ob-Wan Kenobi had waited for them to get back. That night that was so clear in his memories. He paused. He had company.
"Hey, Buff, Giles," he said over his shoulder at the Slayer and her Watcher as they approached.
"Hey you," said Buffy quietly as she sat next to him and looked up at the sky. "I thought that I'd find you here. Brought Giles along."
"Yes, well, I did want to have quiet word with… good lord I, um, I didn't know that this place was here. What a spectacular view. Both of Sunnydale and the stars."
"I prefer the stars sometimes," said Xander as he looked up. "Makes me wonder about what's out there. I wonder if there's something with too many eyes and legs sitting in a pool somewhere looking up and wondering the same thing. Maybe on a planet around one of those yellow specks of light. Anywhere."
Giles settled down to sit on the other side of Xander from Buffy and the trio looked up at the heavens in a companionable silence as they sat in the very dim light of a billion points of fire.
After a while Xander broke the silence. "The Force is with us. We can do this thing."
Sleeping in a rapid response van when loaded for bear was never an easy thing, but from the sounds behind him Killern could tell that most of the squad were sacked out. Freaking typical. They slept, which meant that even if he hadn't been on sentry duty he couldn't. They sounded like a pack of bears was loose back there. A snoring pack of bears. He sighed and looked out into the night. He hated the 3am portion of sentry duty. Come to think of it he hated out of town sentry duty. And when he came to think about it, sentry duty itself just sucked. It was so dull. But at least Wolfram & Hart paid triple overtime for this kind of assignment. That would come in handy. Certainly made up for being sent to dump like Granton and told to wait for a possible signal from one of the pencil pushers, even if the lawyer in person was one of Mr Manners' people.
Then he stiffened. Something had moved out there. He stared harder but he couldn't see anything. That was odd. Something had been out there, he was sure about it. Turning he nudged T'shabe. The massive South African had been snoring in the driving seat but he came awake in an instant, looking around quickly before he turned to Killern and raised his eyebrows.
"I thought I saw something out there."
T'shabe's eyes flickered briefly and then he nodded sharply and reached back to click his fingers loudly towards the rear of the van. In an instant the snoring stopped and the distant hum of extreme violence being restrained by cobwebs of patience broke out. "Check it out," muttered the South African.
Killern knew better than to sigh, so he simply chambered a round into his automatic, made sure that the safety was off and opened the window, being very careful not to let the gun be seen to anyone outside. Then he looked around. Nothing.
"I can't see anything, but… wait a second. Can you hear that?"
"What?"
"That leathery noise… it's like…" He turned his head a bit further and then caught sight of something. It was very bulky and had a lot of teeth. It seemed to be grinning at him. Its grin grew a bit, revealing a lot more teeth. "Oh shit."
As dawn broke Xander's eyes opened and he stared at the ceiling. The house seemed very quiet at the moment, with his parents away and his Uncle Rory visiting Will. Very quiet indeed and he lay there in bed for a long moment. He had the oddest feeling that his life was about to change in one defining moment. He was going to graduate today. True, the Mayor was going to turn into a sixty-foot snake as well, but with that little detail aside he knew that something profound was going to happen. He had to decide what to do afterwards.
He had been thinking quietly about this for some time. His grades were good enough – more than good enough – to be accepted into UCS on a scholarship, but he wasn't sure if that was the road that he wanted to go down just yet, if at all. There were bigger issues at stake now, issues like what he had to do to protect the Hellmouth with Buffy, Faith and the others. He and Oz were the only Force users that he knew of at the moment, but that didn't mean that there weren't others out there, ignorant of their potential. What to do about them? There was the issue of the second Padawan that The Host had seen, the one who was going to be part of the way down the Dark Side before their training even started but who might just make it. Where were they? Who were they? What had happened to he or she to make them so dark?
Sitting up in bed he sighed quietly and then got up to pace across the room to grab a towel and head for the shower. No point wondering bout that just yet. They had an Ascension to deal with. He paused. One thing else about today – he would never have to deal with Snyder again after it. Smiling he walked on.
The seats were hard, but Buffy, Xander and Oz sat on them and stared at the podium. On one side was the faculty and on the other was Wilkins, who was quietly talking to Snyder.
After a moment Willow joined them. "We're good," she said quietly, "Giles said to say that everything's set up."
Buffy nodded absently and then frowned. "What happened to all the books by the way? The last time I went into the library all the shelves were empty. When did Giles get the time to move them all?"
"I'm not sure, but I saw him talking to two odd people earlier on today. One was a guy in a dress with a hat that said 'Wizzard' and the other one looked like an Orangutan but felt far too intelligent for an ape. He said that that they were old friends of his, but I've never seen them before. Anyway, the books are safe," said Xander. Then he stiffened. "Here we go, guys."
There was a scuffling noise and then Snyder walked up to the podium and glowered at the assembled students "Congratulations to the class of 1999. You all proved more or less adequate. This is a time of celebration, so: sit still and be quiet." The glower intensified briefly as he spotted a pair of gently ruminating jaws. "Spit out that gum. Yes, you. Please welcome our distinguished guest speaker: Richard Wilkins the 3rd." He paused again and pointed at someone behind Xander. "I saw that gesture. You see me after graduation." He turned and clapped as Wilkins stood up and moved forwards to general applause.
The Mayor shook Snyder's hand and stepped up to the podium, where he beamed out over everyone and deftly slipped some cue cards from his pocket. Then he put both hands on the lectern and allowed his gaze to sweep the audience.
"Well. What a day this is! - Special day. Today is our centennial, the one hundredth anniversary of the founding of Sunnydale, and I know what that means to all you kids: not - a darn thing. Because today something much more important happens: today you all graduate from high school. Today all the pain, all the work, all the excitement is finally over. And what's a hundred years of history compared to that?" He smiled but there was something flickering in his eyes, something dark and cynical that spoke of pain and effort and the strain of juggling so many issues. Then it was gone and he was looking out over everyone with the clear gaze of a politician who knows how to tell it how it is.
"And indeed by being here, by making it to this moment of graduation for all of you it may be that there is a place in Sunnydale's history, whether you like it or not. It's been a long road getting here. For you and for Sunnydale. There has been achievement, joy, good times - and there has been grief."
" He should know," said Xander in a grim but level voice, "Given the number of people who have died in this place."
"There's been loss. Some people who should be here today aren't. But we are here, at a journey's end. And what is a journey? Is it just - distance traveled? Time spent?" He shook his head. "No. It's what happens on the way, it's the things that happen to you, the things that mould you. At the end of the journey you're not the same. Today is about change. Graduation doesn't just mean your circumstances change, it means you do. You ascend to a higher level. You move on, because that's what life is all about. Nothing will ever be the same."
The light seemed to change slightly and then Xander looked up. Clouds were gathering above the school and something black was starting to slide across the face of the sun. "Showtime," he whispered grimly.
"Nothing…" Wilkins looked up at the darkening sky. He seemed a little startled, but then looked back at the crowd. Some were looking at the disappearing sun and muttering quietly but others were looking straight at him, including Buffy and the others. Xander's hand went under his robes to grasp his lightsabre.
Something seemed to pass over Wilkins' face at that point and the Mayor flinched in pain for a split second. Then he swallowed and continued: "And so as we look back on-" another wave of darkness passed over his face again and he groaned softly as he flinched on the podium. Snyder was openly staring at him now, shifting in his seat obviously torn between asking what was wrong and fear at interrupting.
Wilkins rallied again. "On the events that brought us to this place and this day-"
Buffy pulled her hat off and looked at Xander, who nodded grimly. "Is this the point where we ask the Force to be with us?"
"It wouldn't hurt," said the Jedi Knight, leaning forwards and nodding to Jonathan and Anya. Jonathan did his best to nod back in a nonchalant manner whilst Anya looked terrified but resolute. She had either suddenly developed a hump or her battleaxe was starting to show.
Something was really wrong with the Mayor by now as his hands clenched and unclenched spasmodically on the lectern. "We-" he stopped again, shaking with the effort of remaining upright at the podium. Then he tried again. "We must all-" A stifled scream forced its way out of his mouth as the various members of the faculty looked at each other uneasily.
Then he drew himself up, a strange and terrible smile playing around his face. "It has begun. My destiny. It's a little sooner then I expected, I mean I had this whole section on civic pride that would have made a corpse sit up and salute but what the hell, screw that." He threw the cue cards over his shoulder, a gesture that seemed to appall Snyder. "I guess we'll just skip to the big finish!"
Wilkins shuddered again, his face going slack and suddenly, terribly, it started to change, the colour bleeding away to white and then to grey, the skin starting to mottle and alter. His groaning was becoming louder and hoarser and as it did Xander shouted: "Now!"
The students had been tense and now they acted almost as one. Caps flew off, gowns were tossed aside and weapons were revealed, crossbows, swords, maces, battleaxes, flamethrowers and, almost pathetically, pump-action water pistols.
"Group one with me!" shouted Xander and there was a convulsive heave as the students around him took up their positions, including Amy and Giles, who had joined them as the faculty scattered in panic.
"Group two here!" yelled Oz, calling his people around him as the other group moved towards him, whilst Willow closed her eyes and concentrated on forming a fireball.
A noise came from the podium, a noise that sounded like a thousand wolves howling at once as the thing that had once been Richard Wilkins swayed in place, growing, changing, morphing into something inhuman. And then, in response, a tall figure appeared out of the shadows next to the entrance, cracking his knuckles despite the short sword that hung at his side. Boots thudded and then he was joined by other figures, with yellow eyes and bony ridges visible on their foreheads.
"I'm impressed, Harris, Summers, you got them organized! But we have the exits covered and you're going to end up dead," called the vampire called Tagget, who Finch had sketched so accurately.
"No, ah, somehow I don't think so," said another voice behind Tagget, and the former marine spun around to stare behind him at the vampire with a soul as he stood with Wesley, Faith, McDonald and a crowd of former students, all armed with swords, stakes and other weapons.
Risking a look over his shoulder at Wilkins, who was entering the last stages of his transformation as he started to lengthen into his full last, vast form, Xander shouted: "Jonathan! Anya! Punch a hole!"
The former would-be suicide candidate pumped hard on his water pistol and then shot a stream of water at the vampires in front of him. Screams erupted along with steam as it hit, revealing it to be holy water. Tagget wasn't there to see it hit though – he had flung himself away at the last minute. The other squad also moved their holy water pistol deployers into place, scattering and confusing the remaining vampires before Angel led his lot into the fight, his sword flashing as he decapitated one vampire and hacked the hand off another. To his side Faith was a whirlwind of action as she cut a swath through the crowd, with Wesley using his battleaxe with an awkward energy.
Xander's lightsabre flew into his hand and he ignited it as he span back to stare at the podium, where a great grey shape was now rearing its head and looking around with utterly inhuman eyes. "Ok, time to dance."
Transforming from a human to a demon is not an easy process. It requires a huge amount of magic as well as various energies and proteins that just cannot be found in your local supermarket. Which was the whole point of the contents of the Box of Gavrok. But even that the process requires a large amount of further metabolic processes, the upshot of which is that the human body – even prepared beforehand – is barely able to act as a conduit to the end of that process.
As Wilkins' body changed, with organs altering, merging with others and growing whilst yet other odder organs appeared out of nowhere, other changes happened. Strange urges flared in what now passed for his brain, emotions and feelings that he had never had before. Somewhere in his mind the atrophied remains of his humanity screamed in terror and scrabbled at the bars of the cage that surrounded it before it was finally swept away. There were feelings of loss about a time that he could not comprehend, and a hunger for blood. A deep hunger, something that transcended everything that had been there before it, something that hardwired his brain into action. Blood. He needed blood and he needed it now. Then something small and white and weightless hit his snout and he blinked. Something was standing to one side. It seemed very annoyed at him. After a second he strained to remember the name. Snyder. Oh yes, that was it. Snyder was shouting something about this kind of thing being unacceptable in his school, that it was too messy. How odd. Hang on, he owed him something, what was it now? He couldn't remember exactly and gave a mental shrug. Oh well, he might as well give him a quick death. He leant over and engulfed the wretched little man in his mouth and chewed briefly. Yuck, tasted like chicken. Stringy chicken.
Then something sharp flashed out and cut a long furrow on one nostril and he bellowed in outrage as he tried to focus. Oh. Yes the Slayer. She was standing there with a sword in one hand and a throwing knife in the other. Silly girl, did she really think that she could harm him with that? But she did pose a threat. He could see the magic that was in her now, the internal power that she probably didn't even suspect was there, in her blood and in her mind. Great potential there that had barely been tapped into. He had to make sure that she never threatened him again. She had to die.
Then he blinked. She was holding up the sword. "See this? That's what I was holding when your flunkey Trick got it. That's what I was holding the night I found the Wraith you created. That's what I was holding when we got rid of your Karren Gem spell. You want revenge, you're going to have to kill me. And I'm not easy to kill. But I'm going to see you put out of this place. You made it but Sunnydale belongs to us now!"
Something exploded in his mind, an anger so all-encompassing that it caught him up in a frenzy. He shook with anger and screamed defiance at the Slayer. She was going to die, for all the plans that she'd thwarted, all the things that she'd done to get in his way. She was going to die and he was going to suck the blood from her broken body and claim her magic for his own. She would be the perfect start to his existence as an Old One. He lunged for her, but she dodged away and darted to one side. Hissing he followed her, along one side of the colonnade and into the school. She was fast but he was going to catch her. And eat her.
The vampire in front of him gaped at the lightsabre and then blinked before its head rolled off, its body flashing into dust as it did and Xander looked around. His group had penned the vampires into a corner and were winning, although they were taking hits as they did so, several were down and one blonde girl – Harmony? – was unmoving. He frowned and the lightsabre flashed out once to get a dark-haired female vampire that had been trying to crawl her way out of there.
A flash of grey scaly skin caught his eye and he looked to see the Mayor as he lunged after Buffy. Right. Time to move. "Jonathan!" he roared, and saw the shorter man move his way, his axe still wet with Holy Water. Anya was busy belabouring a much larger vampire, screaming something about bunnies as she did so. Weird. Then he turned to Jonathan. "Take over, Oz and I are going in."
Jonathan nodded quickly and then tossed another balloon filled with holy water into the face of a tall white haired vampire which screamed in pain before Larry and Percy double-teamed it and staked it.
Xander grinned, shut his lightsabre off and ran, gesturing to Ox as he did so. The other Jedi caught two vampires in the neck, before passing command of his team to Giles and joined Xander as they ran towards the staircase. They didn't have much time but they could-
It happened so suddenly that they both paused at the same time and exchanged shocked glances before looking back into the melee by the entrance. No way. No freaking way was someone using the Force there.
Tagget hefted his emergency short sword and swore. Things were going to hell in a hand basket. The Slayers had arranged things well. Too well. Students armed with holy water, axes, swords, even at least one flamethrower. Plus that abomination with a soul, a pair of Watchers and some others. They had a fight on their hands. Still, the boss had been able to ascend, and he looked terrifying as hell. As long as he remembered people like Tagget he didn't mind what he freaking looked like. And it had been a while since he had a fight that he really enjoyed.
"Move!" he shouted as a vampire with a bad cut over one eye went sprawling past him. Then he turned to look at what was going on and grinned. Oh yeah. The other Slayer was there. He adjusted his grasp on his sword and leapt at her. He was going to enjoy this.
One vampire went down with a neck slash that sent its head off to one side and then another was taken out with a stake to the heart. Faith was enjoying herself now and she slashed at a passing vampire, only to curse as it swerved at the last moment and only got a cut on its forehead before it went staggering on. Then she blinked as someone shouted a challenge and her sword only just came up in time for her to parry a blow. A tall vampire – Tagget, Wilkins' right hand fang man – was standing there with a cool sword in his hand.
"Always wanted to kill a Slayer," he said, his fangs gleaming, "And after all, I've got the training for it. Special Ops, kid. You're gonna die."
"Yeah?" she said and pulled back. "Well Special Ops won't cut it against someone who spars with a Jedi, so bye-bye creep." She darted a quick slash at his face, which he parried with a smirk that turned into a faint frown and then a grimace of concentration as she followed it up with a string of attacks, her sword flashing as she beat him back. "Game over." Her sword flashed out, severing his sword hand and sending it whirling away before she took his head off before his face had even had time to register pain. "Special Ops? Loser."
Something came out of nowhere and hit Lindsey on the side of his head in a blow that sent him to his knees with a cry of pain just after he had hacked a vampires' head off. What the hell had that been? Then he realized that he had lost hold of his sword and he looked around wildly, clutching at the point where he had been hit with one hand whilst he scrabbled around with the other. Damn it, where was it? It had to be around here somewhere and what the hell had hit him?
Then he froze. A vampire had been staggering around and now it saw him. One side of its face had been hit by a blast of holy water and was a smoking mess while its remaining eye looked both enraged and terrified. As it saw him it suddenly grinned. "Feed…" it croaked and staggered towards him.
Crap, crap, crap this was bad he thought and looked around wildly. There his sword was, just beyond his reach and he stretched out his hand towards it. He felt wobbly and sick and his balance seemed to be out. Just out of reach… a bit further…
"Feed!" screamed the vampire as it loomed over him and Lindsey's hand flailed desperately out again and then, suddenly, his sword seemed to thump into his hand he struck out. The vampire stopped, gurgled and then its head fell off, turning to dust with the rest of it as it did so. Lindsey stopped to sigh and then slowly staggered to his feet. It looked as if things were under control. Then he looked at his sword. It had almost felt as if it had flown into his hand. He must be concussed or something.
Xander and Oz stared at the swaying figure of the lawyer in disbelief and then looked at each other. "Well that's the Force for you," said Xander and then looked back at the main body of the school. "That's something to worry about for later, now we need to catch up with Buffy and out unfriendly guest. Let's go!"
They went, accelerating as they did. They had some time to make up. They had to get the timing right, too much rested on this. The two Jedi almost flew down the corridors of the high school.
The walls of the corridor flashed past, so fast that the posters and the notice boards were little more than a blur as she darted past them. Down one, along another, turning on the point of a heel and keeping on, trying to stay ahead, keeping an ear out for the dreadful slithering hiss behind her that came with an accompaniment of roars and crashes as her far larger pursuer bounced off the walls and lockers as he – or was it 'it' now? – followed, roaring occasionally. It didn't sound as if speech was something that had made the change over very well, because there was nothing human in the dreadful noises that were coming out of that massive fanged mouth. Whatever Wilkins was now, he had one aim in life – to catch her and try to eat her.
Buffy had no intention of ending up as the demon version of a Twinkie. She kept running, the clock ticking down in her head. When it reached a certain point she headed for the library, accelerating slightly as she did to open up a bit more of a gap. The mayor had an appointment that he had to keep.
"She's coming!" Xander could feel the two approaching forces, the strong vibrancy in the Force that was a Slayer and the dark mass of irredeemable evil that was the thing that had once been Wilkins. The thing that had to be destroyed. "Get ready," he said quietly to Oz. They were standing on either side of the library doors, their inactive lightsabres in their hands.
And then the doors flew open and Buffy flew through them, running so fast that she was almost a blur. She swerved off to one side, a boot hit the chair that had been wedged by the table and then she was airbourne, converting her impetus into a jump that turned into a tight somersault that sent her flying backwards.
She was just in time because then the massive form of the demon snake followed her through the entrance as it bellowed in triumph at its success in cornering the Slayer.
"Now!" shouted Xander as the Mayor's head passed him and then he and Oz ignited the lightsabres that they were both holding out in front of them. The blue and green blades hissed out, extending deep into passing body of the demon, slicing straight through the mottled grey skin and plunging deep into the rippling muscles and other body parts beneath.
There are a number of advantages and disadvantages to being a 60-foot long giant snake demon. On the one hand you stand at the top of the food chain, with the only thing that might give you trouble, in the form of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, having died out 65 million years ago. The massive teeth and the magical abilities that would grow with time were also a plus.
On the other hand there was the loss of arms, which was a bit awkward, and the fact that those teeth would be very hard to keep clean. There was also the problem of mass. A 60-foot giant snake demon cannot stop on a penny, especially if it has been moving very quickly. It requires time. And muscles that have not just been sliced open by a pair of lightsabres.
Pain. That was what was on the Mayor's mind as he realised that something was wrong. Terrible, overpowering pain as two shards of fire stabbed deep into his sides, cutting through muscle and sinew, severing or nicking organs that he was only just getting to realise were there, slicing through nerve endings that had functions that he barely understood. Pain. It filled his brain, made him want to scream, to bellow, to wail for it to stop. This was worse than Ascension, worse than all the other rituals and ceremonies that he had undergone through his century of waiting and preparing. Pain.
The shards of fire suddenly vanished but the pain was still there and he tried to stop, to turn to see what had happened, what had dared to attack him in his glorious and powerful state, but then he realised to his horror that he couldn't stop, that his impetus was carrying him forwards and that it hurt to move, hurt to stop, hurt despite everything. Pain. He slammed into the table, which splintered as if it was made of matchwood, and then slid on to smash into the half-wall that led to the empty bookshelves. His tail flew past his face and he screamed again as the torn and broken muscles shifted against each other before he finally came to a shuddering twitching halt.
Groggily he looked around and there was the Summers girl, looking back at him as she her two companions ran out of the door. The two newcomers were holding lightsabres. Harris. He should have dealt with the Jedi first. And the Osbourne kid as well. Well, perhaps – he tried to move and the pain hit him again, fiery and insistent. He looked down at his side and saw to his horror that he had been sliced open like a fish on a slab. Strange fluids were leaking out although there was no blood.
Desperate he looked around at the room and them he saw the explosives stacked carefully all around the room, some of it clearly C-4. It looked quite impressive. And there was a timer attached to one box, with the red digits vanishing fast as it ticked away the last seconds before detonation.
"Well gosh," he said disgustedly, "You think that you've got it figured out and then they get sneaky on you."
The timer reached zero and the world went very bright and then very dark.
"Faster!" yelled Xander and he ran down the corridor with Buffy and Oz, "Speed needed now!" Five seconds, he thought grimly, four seconds, three seconds… he could see the doors to the non-exploding outside ahead of them and he used the Force to wrench them open as he ran. Two seconds, one, and…. now.
Behind them he heard the explosion start, a deep 'whomph' noise that shook the corridor and sent ceiling tiles falling around them, which he diverted away from their path. He didn't look back because he knew what was following them, the deep yellow and red flames of the explosion that would cook them if they didn't stay in front of it.
"Faster!" he said and then used the force to send Buffy through the door first with a startled eeping noise before he and Oz followed her, bursting out into the open air and jinking to one side of the entrance as the flames vomited out. He leapt over a hedge and hit the dirt, his arms over his head as bits of fiery debris fell all over the place and the air briefly seemed to sear the hair on his hands. Then it seemed to die down and he cautiously looked around. Oz was in a similar position to one side and was also looking around, while Buffy peeked around from behind a water fountain. When she saw the two Jedi she stopped panting for just long enough to sigh with relief.
He relaxed for what felt the first time all day. Then he paused. Their part of the fight was over. What about the others? Grabbing his lightsabre from his belt he got up quickly, helping Oz up at the same time. "Come on, we need to make sure that it wasn't all for nothing."
The vampires were breaking now, some having had enough, others afraid of the vast amounts of holy water that they were able to deploy and many of the remainders being scared of the fiery debris that was starting to fall from the burning building. Giles sighed. He and Jonathan had led their forces in a crushing pincer movement against the vampires that had pushed them back against Angel's group. It had been not without its cost however. A number of students were down, but very few were dead. Instead there seemed to be a few broken bones and a number of cases of blood loss.
As the last vampire ran off towards the exit Giles ordered everyone to get out of the courtyard. With the main part of the building now firmly on fire the place was no longer safe. And given the absence of inhuman bellows from the interior, the Mayor had been defeated. He just hoped that Buffy, Xander and Oz had survived.
"We need to get going," he muttered to an anxious-looking Angel. "Get everyone moving." He paused, noticing a long livid mark that ran across the vampire with a soul's hand. "What happened to you?"
"Some of the holy water flew a bit further than it should have." He shrugged. "It'll heal. The water did the job, that's the important thing. Any sign of Buffy?"
"None, but let's get everyone out of here before we start to worry about that."
He turned and looked around. What a bloody mess. Still, the plan had worked. He hoped. The Watcher heard the distant sound of police and fire sirens and grimaced slightly. This was going to be fun to explain. Then he hefted his sword thoughtfully. They had to arrange to hide all of the weapons as well.
"Are you alright Willow?" he asked as the red-haired witch walked past him looking around somewhat desperately. She jumped slightly, an odd gesture for someone who had been conjuring fireballs to use against vampires earlier.
"Is it all over? Where's Oz? And Buffy and Xander?"
"It's over but I haven't seen-" the Watcher caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye and turned his head, before letting out a sigh of relief that echoed up from the bottom of his heart. To one side he saw Buffy, Xander and Oz appear through the smoke. They looked somewhat begrimed and looked as if they had run a marathon, but they were alive and apparently uninjured. It looked as if things were going to be all right.
Xander looked at the people walking out of the building with relief and then started to look around for specific people. Giles was walking towards them, flanked by Wesley, Amyand Cordelia. Jonathan was sitting on the verge clutching his weapons and having a slight scratch on his forehead fussed over by Anya. Willow had become a guided redheaded missile that had sought out Oz, Faith was grinning lazily at them all as she sharpened her knife and even Angel was smiling quietly, before looking up at the sky nervously. The clouds were still there but the setting sun was threatening to break out from behind the clouds. Oh yes, and McDonald was sitting on a low wall, clutching a rough bandage to a head wound and with the sword that Giles had given him resting on his knees. He looked tired and shocked and glad to be alive.
Catching sight of the lawyer from the evil law firm brought Xander up slightly and Giles frowned at him slightly. "I trust that you were successful?"
"Oh yeah," said Buffy in a tired yet bright voice, "Big check on the 'toasted snaky Mayor' box. We came, we saw, we blew it to pieces in the library. Oops, sorry Giles. I know how much you liked that place."
"I think that the phrase 'the greater good' covers that nicely, Buffy. I'm just glad to see you all in one piece. We were quite successful here, despite the fact that two of the students, apparently called Andrew and Warren, fainted at the sight of your lightsabres. As for everyone else we took remarkably few casualties." He looked at Xander keenly. "I do take it that everything is alright?"
Xander and Oz looked at each other. "We might have a slight problem with the guy from Wolfram & Hart. In the middle of the battle he was down and disarmed but got his sword back. With the Force."
Giles swore under his breath. "Typical. One crisis goes past and another comes up. I'm starting to understand how Sisyphus felt."
"Sissy who?" asked Buffy as they walked away from the burning building. The first fire engines were starting to arrive now, along with the police cars and ambulances and it was becoming hard to talk over the noise.
"Sisyphus. He was condemned to roll a boulder to the top of a hill in the Greek underworld every day, only to repeat the process over and over again." He sighed. "We have wounded to take care of and weapons to dispose of. Even Sunnydale's Police Force will be suspicious otherwise. One thing at a time."
As they split up to walk over to the various students, many of whom were trying to roll their graduation robes around swords and axes, Xander saw Oz and Willow pause to sit next to one wounded girl who had a long cut on her arm and gently tend to her injuries. Oz's healing abilities were good, but he would have to be careful there and just make the injury not as bad as it looked.
Then Xander looked up. Angel was standing off to one side, looking at Buffy as she walked through the crowd, helping people here and there. "Hey," he said to the sad-faced vampire with a soul. "You ok?"
"Yeah." Angel looked at him, his eyes far away for a moment. "She's come a long way, hasn't she?"
"Yes, she has. A long road and much done on that journey." Xander sighed and adjusted his lightsabre before looking up. "So have you, I think. You've been fighting with us for a long time now. When I remember the old days, you used to turn up, deliver cryptic warnings and then vanish. Not any more."
A brief smile flashed over Angel's face. "I could say the same about you, Xander. A Jedi Knight on the Hellmouth. Sounds fantastic, I know, but you have been given something special. You've changed most of all, but the main part of you, the need to help Buffy and Giles and Willow, that hasn't changed. You're the base for them, you anchor them. And you see things that they don't."
He looked away uncomfortably, his eyes jerking in Buffy's direction for a second. "I'm going," he muttered. "Tonight. She's safe, Wilkins has been defeated and… I need to go."
Xander sighed and nodded sadly. "I understand. Where will you go to?"
He got a shrug in response. "Maybe LA. I remembered what you said about the place, that it had patches of darkness in it. Maybe I can shed a little light on some of those patches."
Reaching into his pocket the Jedi Knight pulled out a piece of paper. "I thought that you might say that. Here. It's the address and telephone number of a friend of mine. His name's Doyle. Half Brachen demon, half human, all friend. He know a lot of people over there. Some are, well, a bit shady as Giles would put it, but he fights for the side of light."
Taking the paper Angel looked down at it and then nodded slowly. "Thanks," he said quietly, placing it in his pocket. There was an awkward pause and then Angel put his hand out hesitantly. "Thank you," he said.
"Any time," replied the Jedi as they shook hands.
Angel looked over at Buffy for one last time and as he did she looked up from tending to an injured student and froze in place. Something complicated passed between them in the air, something profoundly sad and filled with yearning and a sense of loss that Xander could feel hanging in the air. He stepped back a few paces and left the vampire with a soul alone for a moment, locked in that gaze with Buffy. When the Jedi looked up again from his careful inspection of a piece of grass growing in a crack in the tarmac, Angel was gone.
Xander sighed again and then looked over at the burning school. The firemen had it under control now, but it lit up the darkening sky. Then he looked over at McDonald. He had a great deal of thinking to do and some hard decisions to make. Giles was right – life here never really ran out of tasks, even for a Jedi.
