"Hey!" Xander snapped again in annoyance and pushed the offending objects away from his face. He took a step back and saw two boys, around his own age, look quizzically first at each other and then at the crosses they were holding. They shook the objects in question briefly and then shoved them again at his face.
"Stop it!" he shouted angrily. "I'm not... someone... thing those will work against. And what the hell's the deal with the darts?"
The two boys looked at each other again and then the shorter and rounder of them took a step forward. "You were attacking that girl," he stated warily.
"I wasn't attacking her," Xander countered. "She was attacked by... someone else..."
"You can say 'vampire'," the guy in front of him cut him off, looking at him as if judging his reaction. He was still keeping his cross held out in front of him.
"... and I went to help her."
The guy looked at him speculatively and turned his head around to look at his companion. "What do you think, Jay?"
The other guy, Jay, was taller and thinner than his companion. He just shrugged with a neutral look on his face that somehow reminded Xander of Oz.
The first guy turned to face Xander again. "Jay says you're probably ok." He still sounded more than a little sceptical.
"He's Jay, I got that. Who are you?"
"His name is Bob," a man's deep voice suddenly announced from the nearby shadows.
The middle-aged man who stepped out of the shadows was dressed fully in black. To Xander's surprise he wore a white collar and a silver cross in a chain around his neck. The newcomer laid a reassuring hand on Bob's shoulder before turning his attention to Xander.
"I'm Father O'Shaughnessy. Who might you be, young man?"
"You can call me Nighthawk," Xander answered defensively. This whole encounter felt totally surreal.
The priest raised an eyebrow in a well-rehearsed manner and suddenly Xander was five years old again.
"Xander Harris," he almost squeaked.
"Well, Xander Harris," the priest started, not unkindly. "What brings you in a cemetery at...," he looked at his watch, "... quarter past midnight wielding a crossbow?"
"We got a B.S.," Bob cut in enthusiastically and suddenly there was a tranq gun in his hand. "Then we saw him rush in at the woman..."
"... to help her," Xander interrupted in turn.
"... and I shot him, but nothing happened."
"Quiet." The word was spoken softly, but it was enough to make them all fall silent. Then the priest pulled the chain holding the silver cross over his head. "Touch this, if you would, please, Xander," he continued dangling the cross from its chain in front of Xander.
Xander did as asked and, after ten seconds of holding the cool metal, let it go. A slight smile appeared on the priest's lips.
"I think we owe each other an explanation."
"You obviously know of the creatures of the dark, Xander," Father O'Shaughnessy started. "How?"
Xander was still of two minds about trusting the priest and his two companions. But, as it seemed, they appeared to be on the same side as him. "Do you know what a Slayer is, Padre?" he asked sharply, looking for any reaction.
Father O'Shaughnessy's face revealed nothing as he looked steadily back at Xander. "I see," he nodded eventually. "Which one of them do you know, Ms Summers or Ms Lehane?"
Xander was truly flabbergasted. "Huh? Buffy? Faith? How do you...?"
The priest raised his hand, silencing Xander. He turned to address his two companions. "We can trust him." Then he faced Xander again. "This will require more privacy than we have here. Please, will you accompany us to our... headquarters after we have helped this poor girl? I give you my word as a man of the cloth that no harm will befall you."
Xander stayed quiet for several seconds, weighing the tactical situation in his head. Finally, he nodded. "Show us the way, Padre."
Father Randall O'Shaughnessy lived in a small apartment adjacent to his church. Xander had immediately noticed that the priest didn't invite him or his companions inside. Instead, he simply followed the man through opened doors, with Jay and Bob behind him with their crosses still held defensively in their hands.
When the priest excused himself to the kitchen to brew some tea for all of them, an uncomfortable silence descended upon the living room. Xander was sitting opposite the other two young men who sat side by side in a love seat on the other side of a small TV table.
The minutes seemed to stretch and stretch until Father O'Shaughnessy came back from the kitchen with a tea tray and some biscuits. He sat down in a free armchair and poured each of them a cup of tea.
"My father was a Watcher," the priest broke the long silence. "He wanted me to become one as well, but I felt my calling lay elsewhere."
"So, that's how you know about Slayers," Xander nodded and sipped from his tea. It was very good – much better than the stuff Giles kept serving them.
"Yes," Father O'Shaughnessy nodded himself. "I still have some contacts with the Council who keep me up to date."
The Council, Xander grimaced inwardly. It was incredible how far and wide their influence reached. He made a mental note to watch his words. On the other hand, this small Scooby-like team intrigued him, professionally, of course.
"Those tranq darts...," he realised suddenly. "They were filled with Holy Water, right?"
"That's right. They have proven to be very effective."
"So, what's the story with Laurel and Hardy here?" he asked, giving the duo a cocky grin.
"Hey!" Bob burst out indignantly and rose to his feet. "How about you spill, huh? There are three of us and only one of you, and we can vouch for each other. So far I've heard nothing that'd make me trust you."
Xander was just about to stand up himself when Jay silently tugged at Bob's sleeve, silencing him. He remained standing with an angry frown on his face.
"Does he ever speak?" Xander asked, inclining his head in Jay's direction. He was totally dumbfounded when the guy in question lowered his eyes and shook his head.
"I'm sorry, man," Xander tried to back-pedal. "I didn't..."
"Two years ago vampires attacked the church-owned orphanage where Jay and Bob lived," Father O'Shaughnessy told him quietly. "He witnessed it all. He hasn't said a word since."
"Yeah!" Bob yelled. "So, don't you fu... uh, dare to mock him. He... he...," Bob tried to continue but words seemed to get stuck in his throat.
"Bob wasn't there when it happened," the priest continued. "He was the first at the scene, though, and found Jay under a pile of bodies."
Xander felt like a total shit. He had had no idea that the undead situation could be just as bad elsewhere as in Sunnydale. "I'm really sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't know."
"Uh-huh?" Bob snarled. "Now you know, so why don't you..."
"Bob, be quiet, please," Father O'Shaughnessy ordered the young man quietly but authoritatively. The belligerent young man took a few deep breaths and then sat down beside his companion.
"Xander," the priest addressed Xander again. "Now you know something about all of us. Quid pro quo. Please, tell us how you came to be here."
Xander stayed silent for a minute, collecting his thoughts. Then he nodded to himself.
"I live in Sunnydale, California. It's a small town built on top of something called a Hellmouth. About two and a half years ago a girl, Buffy Summers, moved there. At first we didn't know she was a..."
The private jet was luxurious. Rowan was lounging in a spacious leather seat with a glass of champagne in his hand as he watched the clouds get thinner outside the window. Wesley occupied the seat next to his on the other side of the isle. He was fidgeting in apparent discomfort.
In a few more minutes they were above the clouds at the cruising altitude and Rowan unfastened his seatbelt. He saw Wesley visibly relax as the plane levelled its flight above the storm clouds which had shaken the ascending jet somewhat fiercely for a while.
"Relax, Wes, and have a drink," Rowan smiled at his travelling partner and indicated the bottle of Taittinger he had opened before take-off.
Wesley let out a long breath and nodded. He took a flute out of a cupboard and poured himself a glass.
"What can you tell me of our destination?" Rowan asked after Wesley had returned to his seat with the drink.
"The castle?" Wesley asked, taking a sip from his glass. Excellent vintage.
When Rowan nodded, he continued. "Ballikinrain Castle. It houses the Council's Academy and is located about twenty miles north of Glasgow. Besides its function as the Watcher Academy, it's been equipped to act as an emergency headquarters for the Council in the event of a disaster. To the public it appears as an independent residential school run by the Church of Scotland. The Council owns considerable acreage around the castle, and several retired Watchers own establishments in Stirling and the nearby villages of Balfron and Killearn.
"The first and second years have dormitories in a separate residential building but the third years have quarters in the castle proper. The senior staff have their own houses a short distance north-east to the castle, still within Council-owned land. Visiting instructors and junior staff have quarters in the castle."
"And us?" Rowan asked.
"In the staff wing of the castle, as far as I know."
"Do we have to share a room?"
Wesley almost choked on his champagne. "You wish!"
"Maybe, but not as much as you," Rowan winked but then turned serious. "I have a favour to ask you, Wes."
"Oh?" Wesley asked with a raised eyebrow.
"In London this wouldn't have been possible, but in Scotland I want you to teach me how to drive a car."
"I see," Wesley muttered to himself.
"When I return to Sunnydale, I'm going to apply for a California driver's license. For that I need to know the basic mechanics."
"Yes, I can see the advantages in that," Wesley nodded and touched Rowan's outheld champagne glass with his own.
Faith looked at the math exam on geometry in her hand in astonishment. She had flunked the first test due to her deep-rooted belief that she couldn't really understand this stuff. But now with the results of the retake in front of her eyes, she couldn't believe what she was seeing.
"B-?" she gaped. She had never gotten anything above C- while she still attended school.
"Yes," Pauline smiled. "I graded it as I would grade my college students, which is to say, on the strict side. Well done, Faith. Very well done."
Faith was still staring at the graded test when there was a knock on the door jamb to Pauline's study. Miyoko stood there, just outside the door in her training clothes. "Am I interrupting anything?" she asked.
"Not at all," Pauline shook her head. "We were just about finished for today." She turned back to Faith. "Tomorrow, history. Please read pages 65 to 98 this evening in preparation. The day after we'll start with algebra."
"If I'm still alive tomorrow," Faith grinned with a pointed look at Miyoko.
"Don't worry, Faith," Miyoko smiled at her. "Today we'll start with meditation techniques to help you with balancing and centring yourself."
"Ok, what's that?" Faith asked curiously. Not long ago she might have sneered at such a suggestion. She was slowly starting to know better.
"T'ai-Chi Ch'uan," both Miyoko and Pauline proclaimed in unison.
"Tai Chi?" Faith asked excitedly. Back in Sunnydale and before the "Mayor Deception" she had once glimpsed Rowan practicing something that looked like Tai Chi. The slow and precise movements had look mesmerizing but in all the subsequent excitement she had forgotten all about it.
"Yes," Miyoko nodded as they stepped outside. She led Faith to the lawn next to their spa. "We'll do this together for an hour daily, at first, before anything else. I know you'll be a quick learner so after a while, you should start your day with a half-hour session to get you balanced for the day. I do it myself every morning."
A thought occurred to Faith. "Hey, maybe we could do it together in the mornings, before I go running?"
"You jog?"
"Yeah, most days, if possible," Faith nodded. "I usually run the Oruanui, Poihipi and Tuhingamata Roads triangle. That's eight miles."
"I'd like to join you sometimes when I don't have to be studying and researching myself."
"Wait! You study?"
"Yes, I have a Doctoral Scholarship at the Victoria University of Wellington. I hope to get my PhD in a year or two."
"Another Doctor? Damn!" Faith rolled her eyes.
"That will be Doctor Nagisa," Miyoko announced in mock superiority. "And don't you forget about that."
"You have very nice legs, not-yet-doctor Nagisa."
"Very good," Miyoko smiled. "Maybe there's hope for you yet." Then her whole stance became more poised. "Now, attend!"