Caritas Karaoke bar, Los Angeles, California. January 9, 2002
Lorne, a.k.a. Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok clan, having heard a commotion in the main part of his club, left Angel and Darla alone in his private chambers - and beheld a sight that he'd never anticipated seeing in this world.
The Groosalugg, the chief enforcer of the Covenant of Trombli, the rulers - no, the former rulers - of Pylea getting up off the floor, the broken remains of a table underneath his taut and muscular body.
"Where am I?" Groo demanded of Lorne in Pylean, latching onto him as the first familiar thing he could see. "And who are you? You are Deathwok clan, obviously, but I fail to recognize you. Is this place your home?"
{ Oh, boy... } Lorne thought nervously, feeling everyone staring at him. "Uh, hi," the lounge demon said to Groo in Pylean. "Welcome to planet Earth. And the name's Lorne, or at least around here it is..."
Cordelia rolled her eyes. Coming up to the Host and giving him a subtle nudge with her hip, she said sweetly, "Hey. Aren't you going to introduce us?"
"Yeah. Introductions would be nice," Gwen smirked, looking amused at her boyfriend's less-than-happy expression.
"I gotta second that," Virginia nodded, likewise smirking at her own significant other, who was frowning in Groo's direction.
"Boys and girls, lemme introduce the Groosalugg, the bravest and sole undefeated warrior of Pylea. My old home town," Lorne switched to English and shrugged slightly.
"No. I no longer answer to that title. Call me Groo; for that is my name, now," the Pylean half-breed said in English, surprising the birthday party guests.
"Oh, my, you can speak the local lingo? Well, color me surprised," Lorne said, looking at his compatriot in amazement. "Took me ages to be able to do that, way back when."
"So, you come from, uh, the same place as Lorne? The demon dimension called Pylea?" Wesley asked, examining Groo carefully.
"That is correct," Groo nodded.
"Ouch! Hey, now, princess, you gotta calm down," Lorne yelped, after Cordy kicked him in the shin to get his attention. "Fine, fine - Groo, is it? This is Cordelia Chase. And over here is Virginia Bryce, Gwen Raiden, Charles Gunn, and Wesley Wyndham-Pryce," the Host pointed to everyone, belatedly introducing them to the new arrival.
"Hi! Pleasure to meet you," Cordelia batted her eyelashes at Groo, a smitten kitten by anyone's definition.
"Ditto," "Same here," Virginia and Gwen echoed Cordy's sentiments, followed by the less enthusiastic greetings from Gunn and Wes.
"So. Groo, is it? Liking the new moniker, it kinda suits you. But what the heck brings you to this particular neck of the dimensional woods?" Lorne asked, coming up closer to the Pylean warrior.
"There are...a number of reasons. First off, I am hunting Barshon; the last remaining priest of the Covenant of Trombli, who has apparently fled to this dimension," Groo explained, looking around at the humans. From the blank looks on their faces, he correctly assumed that they didn't know who or what he was talking about. "And secondly, I am seeking a new place to call home. Pylea...is no longer that for me."
At that moment, Angel, Darla and Connor came out of Lorne's private chambers. Both vampires looked surprised to the tall, good-looking, unexpected visitor. "Who's this?" Angel asked in surprise.
"Angel-cake, Darla-kins, this is Groo. Groo, meet Angel and Darla - and their son, Connor," Lorne did the introduction thing again. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I think my compadre and I need to have a little chat in private."
"Why? I mean, he just got here," Cordelia said in her typically forthright manner. "And hey, I'd like to invite Groo to join us for my birthday party-"
"Sounds like a good idea, sweetie, a right neighborly thing to do. And we'll be back soon for you to do that," Lorne promised her, as he gestured for Groo to follow him. The two Pyleans entered Lorne's private room, and the Host started talking in Pylean to Groo urgently, "Okay, *Barshon* is here? The number two demon within the Covenant? And he's the *last* priest of that particular organization? It sounds like things have gotten majorly shook up back there! Can ya tell me what's happened?"
"It is a long story. In brief, however, the Covenant lost its grip on power nearly a year ago. And all the priests save Barshon were executed, thanks in part to my friend named Xander Harris-" Groo started to say. But immediately, Lorne shushed him from even though they were talking in Pylean, the name Xander Harris would be recognized.
"DON'T use that name, please!" the Host said urgently, briefly looking around towards the door. "And before you ask why, it's very complicated and I can't give you a simple answer. Just, trust me; *never* mention that name to anyone you encounter in this world. Especially not Cordelia! Bad things will happen if you do," Lorne finished up with a slight shudder.
"Yes, I know. Whilst we were being pursued by the Covenant, he confided to me how he was a hunted man here in this world. And I thank you for your counsel," Groo inclined his head somewhat. "Now, if I may ask - will you help me find Barshon? I know the Deathwok clan has declared a blood feud against me for slaying the one named Landokmar, but-"
"You killed my cousin Landok? Oh boy. I betcha my mother had a complete *herd* over that, he always was the golden spawn in the family!" Lorne shook his head. "So why did you - no, stupid question. It's been nearly six years, sure, but I haven't forgotten what Pylea's like. Just one question - did he die honorably?"
"Landokmar fell in battle against my blade, yes," Groo said uncomfortably, not wanting to be reminded of that terrible day when he had been forced to kill so many; and not all of whom had deserved it.
Lorne sighed. "Fine. That's the best I could hope for, and you don't have to worry about me trying to kill you to avenge his death, or anything like that. Truth is Landok practically hated me, anyway. So, you want me to help you find Barshon?"
"Yes."
"Okay, fine; sing for me."
Groo's eyes went wide. "You wish me to *sing* for you?!"
Lorne shrugged. "That's the way the ability works for me. Because I can't channel my mind to identify your target's aura, the way other Deathwok clan demons can. Led to quite a few family issues back in the day, lemme tell you! All I can do is try to read your upcoming destiny, and point you in the right direction. Whether that's finding Barshon, or something else."
Groo looked confused, and not entirely by Lorne's inability to use his powers like the others of his species. "I am - uncertain. Because I know what singing is, over the past year the humans of Pylea have perfected its use as a weapon. And while it does not affect me as it does the rest of the demon citizenry, thanks to my human heritage, I fear...I cannot duplicate their ability to sing. Not without a great deal of preparation and practice, at any rate."
"Oy," Lorne sighed in despair. "Okay, then, hum."
"Hum?"
"Yeah. Like this." Lorne hummed a few bars of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, giving Groo the general idea. "Just as long as it's musical in nature, that'll hopefully be enough for me to tell you what's what."
"Very well. I will try." Groo closed his eyes and, recalling Fred's favorite song called 'Yellow Rose of Texas', he clumsily began to hum the tune.
"Okay, that's enough!" Lorne said a few moments later, moving back slightly. "Seriously, that's *more* than enough! Please, tall dark and handsome, stop!"
"My...humming...causes you distress?" Groo asked, again looking confused.
"Eh, distress...not really the word for it," Lorne replied, briefly throwing his hands up in the air. "I mean, sure, your humming voice isn't exactly Willie Nelson in nature, but I've heard worse..."
"Then what is the problem?"
"Your future. As in it doesn't exactly look rosy, buddy boy," the Host replied, even though that didn't clear things up for Groo in the slightest. "If I thought you'd take my advice, I'd suggest for you to go back to Pylea straightaway-"
"I can not do that," Groo shook his head at once. "If nothing else, honor demands that I attempt to complete my self-appointed task to the best of my ability."
"Honor. Oh, that word, that word," Lorne sighed. That one word was enough to make him recall a hundred painful lessons he'd suffered as a teenager, on how a 'proper' Deathwok clan demon should act. "I bet that's exactly what Landok thought, too, and look what happened to him!"
"I do not understand."
"Never mind. Look, I saw two paths down which you can go," Lorne said hopelessly. "In the first one, you leave my club to track down Barshon, and eventually enlist the help of Xander Harris and his friends. That path ends ridiculously soon in your death, though, and without you completing your mission successfully. Sorry, big guy, but you get buried in a cemetery not far from here."
"And the second path?" Groo asked, doing his best to maintain a stoic mask after hearing the green-skinned demon's words.
"That...isn't quite so clear. You stay here. Bond with the birthday party guests outside this room, especially that Cordelia girl - she's already infatuated with you, and I'm sure you've already guessed that, right? But eventually something happens, and you leave town. Something...very upsetting to Angel's Vision Girl, even if I couldn't see what, exactly. Anyway, I'm not sure if your departure's permanent or not; but the odds aren't good for a successful long-distance relationship."
"Your words are confusing to me," Groo said simply. "However, that is of no import. I thank you for the warning regarding the danger to my life, but I have a mission to complete. Thus I will take part of your advice, and request your human friends for assistance in tracking down Barshon." So saying, Groo nodded once and then left the room.
"Great. I just *had* to get saddled with a Pylean Lochinvar, of all things. Now what do I do?" Lorne groaned, before he too exited his bedroom with a heartfelt sigh.
Richmond, Virginia. The same time
Xander prowled around the apartment he shared with Oz and Fred, feeling oddly restless.
It had been a busy week since that little visit to rural Montana, and having lunch with Reverend Crumley. There had been a couple of meetings with General Gregor and his Knights of Byzantium, who'd professed to have no knowledge of the whereabouts of the Spear of Destiny. There had also been a videoconference with Monsignor Bentallo in Rome, who likewise had no knowledge of where the Spear might be; despite having looked for it all over the world, by this point.
Plus, there had been other things to keep him busy; his college-level homework with the Wizard, meetings with Alan Smithers, even the occasional meeting with Anna - the beautiful Russian liaison to STW. And yet today, Xander had found himself with nothing in particular to do, and like a caged tiger, he found himself wandering the apartment, looking for something to do.
{Maybe some target practice down in the basement? Nah, I've already spent an hour doing that today. Ditto working out in the gym. Damn. Am I actually getting *bored*? Oooh, that's not a good sign.}
"Hey, kid. Open up, lemme in!" Xander suddenly heard Cleburne's voice call from outside the front door.
{ Yep. I just totally jinxed myself, } Xander thought pessimistically, even as he opened the apartment's front door. He didn't offer an invitation, and the USMC general didn't wait for one; Joshua just entered the apartment and fixed with him with a level stare. {Okay, here it comes.}
"We got trouble," Cleburne said, right on cue.
"What sort of trouble? The Indians and Pakistanis are still threatening to go to war?"
"Well, yeah. But that's not our problem, not exactly. Or at least, not yet," Cleburne shook his head.
"Apocalyptic sort of trouble, then?" Xander asked curiously. "Like what almost happened in New York, a while back?"
Cleburne looked at him suspiciously, before shaking his head. "Nothing like that, no. It's just, I'm gonna need for you to come with me to Italy. There's something funny going on with the Vatican, I can just *smell* it. But whatever it is, it's nothing I can get a handle on from over here..."
"Okay, fine. But what exactly do you need me for?" Xander asked curiously. "Time was you were so paranoid about me being kidnapped, you never wanted me to leave the country, remember?"
"Yeah, kid, but that was then and this is now," Cleburne said impatiently. "Besides, I don't like leaving home alone either. Right now Gunny's at home with his family in Philly. Wolfie's in LA. Fred's gone to Chicago to visit the Wizard, there's something they're working on - even if I can't possibly understand what it is. Even Red's busy with his parents, his fiancée and his prospective demon in-laws-"
"Oh, yeah - that wedding's taking place sometime next month, isn't it? Red's getting married to that Ametila girl, who works as a waitress in Lorne's club," Xander interrupted with a slight smile. "Hey, isn't her dad some sorta king or something?"
"Yeah," Cleburne nodded in exasperation. "And that's why the security arrangements for that particular shindig are becoming completely ridiculous! Good grief, kid, I've been to one or two royal weddings in my time, but some of the arrangements these people are wanting to set up? Screw demon protocol, the guy shoulda convinced his girl for them to elope to Vegas or something."
"Well, at least Ametila hasn't asked him to do the traditional flagellation thing with the burlap, and the blood larva," Xander said dismissively.
"The what with the *what*?" Cleburne looked at him like he'd just grown another head or something.
"Eh, never mind. Just something I heard about - in another life," Harris shook his head, banishing those memories. "But seriously, old man, it sounds like you don't actually need me to come with you to Europe. At least, not for this trip. Now, if you'd told me that someone had actually come up with a lead on the Spear's whereabouts, that'd be a different story. But since they haven't, what exactly am I gonna do over there? Request an audience with the Pope? Go shopping along the Via Condotti? Seriously, I got better things to do with my time."
"Like what?" Cleburne asked suspiciously.
"I dunno right now," Xander said shortly. "But something'll turn up. It always does. And hey, doesn't Wolfram & Hart have a branch office in Rome nowadays? So I don't know about you, but I'd rather not give *those* bastards any opportunity to try to get their claws on me again. Last time that happened, I ended up in Pylea, remember?"
"Yeah, that I do," Cleburne growled, before banishing those memories. "All right, fine. Stay here. And stay out of trouble! I mean it, kid, okay? I'll be back soon, hopefully in less than a week's time. If you're feeling bored, ask Esther if she wants you to take over some of my workload; I'll leave you a key to my office. It'll save me some money buying new gym equipment around here, if nothing else."
"Bitch, bitch, bitch, Cleburne – that's practically all you do," Xander replied, walking his visitor to the door. "Kinda weird how you're always saying stuff like, 'this building's supposed to be an investment, not a money pit!' or, or, 'how the hell did you three blow a hole all the way through the goddamn ceiling?' or whatever."
"Watch it, kid. You're a Marine now, and I'm your superior officer," Cleburne said warningly, as he left the apartment. He called out behind him, "And for the record, I'm still waiting for you to reimburse me on that property damage!"
Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles, California. January 10, 2002
Barshon was a demon consumed by hate.
He hated this new world he had arrived in yesterday, with the one known as Eli's help. He hated having to lower himself to freeing that particular Wolfram & Hart demon, in order to escape from Pylea. He hated the cow scum he was now meeting with, as a consequence of the flight from his homeland.
But most of all, Barshon hated Xander Harris. The former priest hated that never-to-be-sufficiently-damned cow. Hated him for successfully resisting those days of torture. Hated him for somehow fleeing the palace along with the traitorous Groosalugg. Hated him for the *abomination* which Pylea had eventually become.
"Well. It's a small universe, isn't it? Seriously, it seems like only yesterday when we first met in Pylea," Lilah Morgan smiled like a predator at her 'guest'.
"I care nothing for whatever game you believe you are playing, female cow-" Barshon started to say angrily.
"My *name* is Lilah Morgan, *Barshon*. Use it. Because this isn't your world, and even if it was, you're in no position to indulge in your - petty bigotry," Lilah cut him off with a hint of steel in her voice. "According to Eli's debriefing yesterday, you've been running and hiding from the humans of Pylea for nearly a year now. So spare me the superiority act, or else this little interview is over."
Gnashing his teeth, Barshon made a huge (for him) effort to dampen down his temper. However much he didn't wish to acknowledge it, this accursed animal had a point. And he would gain nothing by antagonizing it. "Very well. I shall make the necessary effort not to refer to you as the cow trash your kind truly is. Now, where is the one you call Xander Harris?"
Lilah laughed, infuriating the red-robed demon even further. "Oh, my, thank you Barshon. I haven't been able to laugh like that for months now! And please, what were you thinking? That you'd track that semi-psychotic little bastard down, wherever STW has stashed the man, and kill him? Just like that? Really, I..." Lilah simply couldn't help it, she started laughing helplessly again.
"I find your amusement at my plans disagreeable," Barshon said icily. "Why do you doubt my ability to slay that damnable *creature*? It not only ruined my life, but it also ruined the established order of things within my realm, beyond repair!"
"You know, your reasons for this aren't exactly giving me a lot of incentive to cooperate with you," Lilah replied, still trying to get her laughter under control. "I mean, even if Wolfram & Hart did know where Harris was right now – which we don't – we would be using that information for ourselves. Why would we give up that information to you, who is only one disgraced demon, who's planning to go up against an entire army devoted to keeping him safe? Oh, come on! What with your Pylean prejudices, you wouldn't even get within five miles of this building before some demon hunter came across you, and ripped out your spine."
"That is the final insult I will hear from your putrid cow lips! I challenge you to a death duel, at once!" Barshon roared, unable to help himself and getting to his feet at once.
"Oh, sit down and shut up, you *idiot*," Lilah shot back, looking completely unimpressed. "We don't *do* that sort of thing here, at least not anymore! And even if we did, quite frankly, I could take you." Ms. Morgan reached down into an open drawer of her desk, and Barshon found himself staring down the barrel of one of the detestable cow weapons which the olive-clad soldiers who had invaded Pylea last year possessed.
Lilah added, "Because whatever else you are, Barshon, you're not bullet-proof."
The demon didn't get afraid; he simply got madder than ever. "Useless cow filth, you dare threaten me? And with one of those accursed weapons? I should rip out your tongue with my bare hands for your insolence!"
Lilah sighed, suddenly tired of this whole thing. "You know what? That's it, we're done here. This *farce* is officially over." She pressed a button underneath her desk before saying, "I *warned* you what would happen if you called me that again, you uncouth barbarian!" Lilah bit down on the insult she was originally going to make, knowing that might not be acceptable to the Senior Partners if it got back to them. "Security will be here soon to throw you out of the building, via the sewers of course. It's not as if you could show your ugly demon face in public. And *don't* bother coming back; because I'm recommending to Linwood that nobody here at the firm be allowed to help you. Because you're just a bad memory of something which no longer exists-"
Goaded beyond any and all form of self-control, Barshon was about to lunge forward to tear the female attorney apart - when two of the law firm's security guards came in and forcibly dragged the demonic creature away, out the door and out of Lilah's sight.
"Good riddance," Lilah said to herself, before focusing her mind on more important matters.
Like what was going on with that person whom Angel and Darla had been investigating lately, the man called 'Holtz'...
Lemke's Book Treasury, Sunnydale, California. January 16, 2002
"Oh, hello," Josef Lemke said, as the blonde teenage girl with purple highlights in her hair came into the store. "Welcome to the Treasury book store. How can I help you today?"
The girl didn't say anything, just staring at him for a few moments. Finally she said in an even, somewhat melodious voice, "Hello, Josef."
{Josef? And that voice, I know it from somewhere.} Lemke frowned, trying to make the connection. "Do I know you, miss?"
"No, not really. At least, not yet," the blonde shook her head. "But you *will* know me from now on. My name's Cassie Newton."
Lemke's eyes went wide. He had been briefed by Xander and Cleburne about their little visit to Montana, and who exactly this girl's grandfather was. Then the big Polack had an epiphany. "You're the one who called me on Halloween, aren't you? Just after I saved that girl named Janice Penshaw from those two vampires, who were going to kill her."
"I know things, I see and hear things," Cassie quoted the same words she had used nearly three months ago. "Sometimes they're good things, sometimes...not so much."
Lemke nodded. He grabbed a scrap of paper and scribbled down some numbers, and then he offered it to the blonde teenager. "Here. You said that I'd be giving you this, as I recall."
"I did?" the Newton girl asked curiously, accepting the paper.
"Yeah. My cell phone number," Lemke shrugged slightly. "Kinda inevitable, the way I understand these things work?"
"Oh. Right. Thank you," Cassie smiled. "It's, um, appreciated."
"You're welcome. So, Miss Newton, what else can I do for you today?" Lemke asked, gesturing around the store. "If there's any book you happened to be interested in that I have in stock, I'm pretty sure I can give you a hefty discount on it."
"Thanks, again, but that's not why I'm here," Cassie suddenly frowned, her smile vanishing.
"Oh?" Josef raised his eyebrows. "Then why, exactly, did you come here today?"
"To warn you that something is coming, within the next two or three days," Cassie said simply.
"Something is coming, what does that mean?"
"I don't know," Cassie replied, looking worried. "I've never foreseen anything like this coming before. And whatever it is, it's powerful. All I know for sure is that I needed to warn you about it, so that you could warn *him* about it."
Lemke didn't bother to ask who this 'him' was, whom Cassie was referring to. He already knew that the precognitive girl was referring to Xander. "Okay, I'll tell him."
"No, you have to do more than that. Josef, you have to make *sure* he's here, at the time," Cassie insisted. "Otherwise, I don't know what'll happen. The badness might not go away. Ever. It's too great a risk, he *has* to be here!"
"Look, Miss Newton-"
"Call me Cassie, Josef," the young woman interrupted the former soldier. "We aren't going to be standing on formality long enough for it to be an issue, I'm sure of that much."
"Fine, Cassie then," Lemke stood up to his six-plus feet of height. "Look, I'm not sure if you know details, but the man we're talking about? He doesn't like this town. Doesn't like its people. Doesn't like its night life. Doesn't like coming here, even if he *has* done it in the past. Plus the people he's staying with, they're not exactly keen on him risking his life and his sanity coming here. If you want him here in three days' time or less, I'm gonna need something more than just your word on that in order to sell the idea to him - *and* to the brass!"
Cassie looked upset. "I don't, I'm not sure I, I..."
"What is it?"
The blonde girl shook her head. "I can't see it. All I know is, it's too bright to look at it directly. Like white light in my head, or something. Just - please, get him here! I'd call and try to convince him myself, but I don't have his phone number. Never have. Never will."
{ Hmm. Well, I guess that's operational security for you, } Lemke thought philosophically, before shrugging and making a gut decision. "Okay, Miss, uh, Cassie. I'll do my best to convince him to come here."
"You have to do better than just 'try', Josef. You have to. Believe me on that, if nothing else!" Cassie abruptly whirled around and then ran out of the book store.
{ Great, } Lemke thought to himself grouchily, as he headed for the store's phone. { And here I thought it was going to be a nice, peaceful, relatively normal day... }
Sunnydale Junior High, Sunnydale, California. January 18, 2002
Dawn was doodling in class. There were a number of reasons for this, not least because it was Friday afternoon and almost all of the students were bored, waiting for the weekend to hurry up and finally arrive. But there were other reasons as well...
Ever since she had been forced to quit her job at Doublemeat Palace by her big sister, Dawn had been feeling somewhat...out of place. To be honest, at times, it almost felt like her relationship with Buffy was some kinda twisted mess...because neither of them had been able to forget what Brother Feodor had mentioned roughly three months ago.
That he and his brethren had used a part of the Slayer, and a part of a guy Dawn Summers had never actually met, to create her current human form.
Plus her mom and Giles were cohabiting, Kirsty was making life difficult for her at school, her friend Janice still wasn't back to normal even after all this time since Halloween, *and* she didn't have a boyfriend. Put it all together, and in Dawn's view, it all spelled 'my life kinda sucks.'
In any case, the English teacher was trying to drum up some enthusiasm among the students, but she wasn't succeeding very well. "Now...if we can come up with things Jim lost during his years in Shanghai, and things he gained. What if-"
"Excuse me," a student came into the class carrying a piece of paper.
"Yes?" The teacher looked down at the piece of paper the student gave him, and then looked up again. "Dawn."
Dawn looked up, alarmed. "Huh?"
The teacher said simply, "They need you in the guidance office."
Dawn continued looking alarmed as she gathered up her stuff, before departing the class and walking down an empty hall lined with lockers. She made her way to the guidance counselor's office and knocked on the door. "Hello?"
"Dawn Summers?" the female voice from within asked. "Please, come in!"
Dawn did so, quickly taking a seat. She stared at the dark-haired guidance counselor seated on the opposite side of the desk from her. "What's going on? Am I in some sort of trouble?"
"Oh, no, no! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," the counselor shook her head at once. "Since I'm new here, I'm trying to meet with a lot of the students and get to know them. And, well, I thought this little meeting would give us a chance to get to know each other."
Dawn stared at the counselor, whom she noticed was wearing a small blue pendant around her neck. "Okay. Great."
The woman frowned, "So, I've been looking through your file and, um...your grades seem to have slipped a little, lately."
Dawn shrugged. "I have really hard classes this quarter. But I'm trying to do better."
The guidance counsellor nodded. "Yeah, still. Your teachers have mentioned that you seem a little distracted in class lately, too."
"I'm not. I-I'm fine," Dawn said a little too quickly.
The older woman nodded. "Okay. It's just, you know, I know it must seem weird, talking to a stranger about this stuff. But, uh...I want you to know that if something's going on, if something's up that you need help dealing with, my job...the most important part of my job...is looking out for you and your needs."
She smiled. Looking surprised, Dawn sent her a very small smile of her own. "I'm really okay. Basically."
The counselor nodded slowly, sitting back. "Basically?"
Dawn looked down. She said quietly, "Yeah. Kinda." Then she looked up. "I-I mean, yes."
"Yes?" the guidance counselor prodded gently.
"Yes. It's just - over the past three months, things have changed," Dawn said delicately.
"Changed in what way?" the older woman asked calmly.
"Well, at home...and at school..." Dawn trailed off, not knowing how to frame her feelings properly.
"Yes?"
"Nothing. It's just - stupid teenage stuff," the Summers girl suddenly changed her mind about discussing details with the counselor.
"In my experience, Dawn, most teenage stuff isn't stupid," the counselor explained carefully. "Is it a boy?"
"What? Oh, no! Well, sorta, but not. I mean, Kevin's been dead for nearly a year," Dawn shrugged.
"Oh, I see. I'm so sorry for your loss," the counselor said, shuffling through the papers on her desk. "Now where...ah, yes, Kevin Berman, it says here he died in a car accident of some sort. Again - I'm sorry, Dawn, I thought he was part of the 'changes' you mentioned before."
"Yeah, well. You know, everything changes, and sometimes I just wish..." Dawn trailed off.
"Yes? What do you wish, Dawn?" the guidance counselor suddenly leaned forward, an eager expression on her face.
"I wish...I just wish that things would go back to the way they were before," Dawn mumbled, looking down at her hands and not at the guidance counselor.
Not that it would have made any difference by that point, but had she looked up, the female teen would at least have noticed the older woman's face morph into that of a vein-y, mottled-face vengeance demon. One who had fallen behind in her quota of Wishes for this month, and so had decided to return to the Hellmouth (after being away since last summer) to find as many miserable mortal brats as she could.
That was Halfrek, the so-called Patron Saint of Abused Children, for you.
"Done!" the demoness hissed under her breath, as a blazing white light filled the school office - and then the entire world changed, just as Cassie Newton had sort of sensed it coming.
Not all that far away, Xander Harris collapsed unconscious, yelling in pain - as the previous aborted timeline suddenly engulfed both him and everyone else, thanks to the wording of Dawn's Wish.
TBC...
AUTHOR'S NOTES- I'm back. I meant to post this earlier, but I've had some health issues the past couple of months. Nothing life threating, but it slowed down me doing much of anything. Now, that I'm healing, I hoping to start writing again. Part 60 is in the final beta stage and I hope to have it posted before too long.