Part Fifty-eight
University of Southern California campus, Los Angeles, California. December 29, 2001
There was a sharp three-knock cadence at the door, and a middle-aged woman wearing glasses and a sensible sweater looked up. "Come in."
Cordy pushed open the office door and stepped in the crowded office. "Dr. Vaughn?"
"Yes. And who are you?"
"Cordelia Chase. Dr. Vaughn, you're supposed to be my faculty adviser?"
"Well, if you're Cordelia Chase, then I'm Dr. Emmanuelle Vaughn and I'm definitely your faculty adviser. You're early."
"How's that? I didn't even set up an appointment with you today, the student union people told me to come see you just now," Cordelia said in confusion.
"Ah. No, what I meant was it's not even the new year yet. Most students don't even think about classes until they sober up after New Year's Eve, you see. Yet here we are; just about every student here on campus is planning to party like it's 1999 all over again, and you come track me down in my office. Curious..."
Dr Vaughn opened a filing cabinet and pulled out a folder. "Here we go, Cordelia Chase. Incoming freshman, hmm...you'll be 21 years old in less than two weeks. A bit older than your typical university freshman."
"Well, that's me, starting college a few years after high school."
"And the University, in its infinite wisdom, has tasked me to guide you in the start of your journey." She folded her arms and looked at Cordy. "So tell me, Ms. Chase, what do you want to get out of college?"
Cordelia didn't even have to think about it. "Well, I plan to make it big as a Hollywood actress, so a college education would help as a good foundation for my acting skills. I think we both know just how famous this university is for its degree programs in the film business; I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't John Wayne, José Quintero, and George Lucas all alumni of USC?"
"Indeed they are. You've done your homework, very good. Still..." Dr. Vaughn sighed. "It says here you're attending college on your grandfather's dime, thanks to a trust fund that the IRS confiscated - and then gave back. Let me guess; after graduating high school in this...Sunnydale place, you came to LA on a bus?"
Cordy frowned. "Actually, I drove my car when I moved to LA." The young woman still did not know how in the original history, she had indeed arrived in the big city riding coach on a smelly Greyhound; but thanks to her undead boss, Angel, she had been spared that particular humiliation this time around. After the Champion had heard from Xander Harris that he would be hiring Cordy as his secretary soon enough, the ensouled vampire had surreptitiously helped the former cheerleader out before Graduation, to at least be able to keep her own wheels.
"Well, you probably already know this; but there are hundreds if not thousands of young women who ride the bus to the City of Angels every month. All of them with dreams like yours, all of them thinking they're going to be the next Angelina Jolie or Halle Berry or whoever. I'm not wrong in assuming you were head cheerleader at your high school? Maybe Prom Queen or Homecoming Queen as well, hmm? Teenage dreams are all well and good, however the dream quickly fades into the garish glare of Hollywood neon, and a *lot* of struggling actresses wind up either being a waitress at Hooters or a hostess at Bennie Hannah. So, have you given any thought as to what course would help you be a better hostess or waitress or whatever?"
Cordy blinked. The meeting was not exactly going how she'd expected. "Ah, no. Because I worked as a salesgirl at April Fool's before I left Sunnydale, and if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that I don't look good wearing nametags."
"And yet, unfortunately, you're on track to wearing a lot of them in the future. Hollywood puts stars in peoples' eyes, Ms. Chase, but expectations almost never match reality. Chasing your dream is fine, but nine times out of ten, a girl like you eventually needs something else to fall back on. You mentioned working as a salesgirl just now; tell me, what else have you been doing since high school?"
"Working at a private investigator's office, actually."
Vaughn raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's certainly a little different. What do you do there?"
Cordy hesitated for a moment; she was pretty sure telling her faculty advisor the unvarnished truth would be a problem. "Initially, I was the secretary, making coffee and answering the phone. But over the past two years I worked my way up to, uh, acquiring information and - organizing leads. I also help out my boss and his associates in the field, as required."
Vaughn looked at Cordy for a second before responding. "Well, granted, that should be fertile grounds for ideas in your acting career, and put you ahead of most of your classmates. But how far will that take you?"
The woman reached over and picked up a catalog off her desk. "Here at USC we have a myriad of options for study, most of which can lead to a productive future. However, in order for that to happen, you *have* to choose which subjects you study wisely. I know, I know; freshman year is a time where wise decisions by the students are rare, but the starting point of your college life is often critical. So tell me, what subjects are you going to choose?" Vaughn asked, as she handed the catalog to Cordelia.
Cordy stared at the course information booklet, sucked in a deep breath, and began to plan for her future.
Siberian Trip Wire headquarters, Georgetown, Washington D.C. January 1, 2002
Esther Marcum looked up as Xander walked into the conference room, carrying a portfolio of papers. She said, "Good morning, Lieutenant Harris."
"Morning, Esther. Happy New Year," Xander said, before he sat down.
"Happy New Year to you too, I hope you had a pleasant one?"
"Not particularly."
Esther sighed, she'd been afraid of that. "Your little trip to Houston didn't go well, I take it."
Xander shrugged. "The police investigation into my parents' disappearance is at a dead end. Hell, the trail's so cold, it's almost frozen solid! All that the cops could tell Cleburne, Gunny and me is that it was definitely my dad's blood which was plastered all over that wall. The way I figure it, the odds are I'm an orphan now."
Esther leaned forward. "You can't be certain of that. And where there's life, there's always hope-"
"Not where I come from. No offense, but you obviously didn't grow up on a Hellmouth like I did," Xander cut her off sharply, which sent a slight chill down the black woman's spine.
"So, what did you get up to last night? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm fairly sure your flight back from Texas arrived early yesterday afternoon," Marcum attempted to change the subject.
Xander snorted. "Turned on the idiot box, listened to Dick Clark doing the countdown, and watched the ball drop at Times Square. Ate some popcorn, and then went to bed."
"A very quiet evening, then."
"Yeah, 'cause Mother Hen was kinda grumpy. Only thing I can figure is that he musta felt Richmond was more dangerous than New York City or Houston, for some reason."
"Hmmm, not that I've read the crime statistics recently - but I'll talk to Cleburne about that when he gets here in the next few minutes, if you like," Esther replied.
"I feel bad thoughts being sent my way," General Joshua Cleburne, the Field Director of Siberian Trip Wire, said as he walked into the room. "And for the record? There's enough craziness always happening during New Year's Eve, kid, no need to add your level of craziness to it." He sat down next to Xander.
"Well, at least Oz and Fred had a good time. They called me from the Big Apple, and said they enjoyed the band. Promised to bring me back a recording," Xander commented. "Maybe next year, I can hear it live as well."
Cleburne ignored Xander's jibe as he played with the control panel on the table. A few seconds later, the monitor on the wall of the conference room came to life with a melodious chime. The image of the Dr. Irving "Wizard" Hollins then swiftly appeared on the screen.
"Good morning from Chicago," the teenage genius said mildly from within his university office.
"Good morning, Irving," Esther answered. "Sorry to get you up so early, but I wanted to touch base with you before you got too far into the day's activities."
{ Plus, I bet she wanted to make sure you and Bethany didn't get up to any sort of shenanigans last night, } Xander smirked to himself as he considered the telekinetic girl the Wizard had developed a hopeless crush on. Still, Harris didn't make any comment about that, not wanting to jinx the budding teenage romance.
Not with how many romantic disasters *he* had undergone as a teenager.
"No apologies necessary, Mrs. Marcum, I'm sure I'll be intrigued by whatever you have for me," Irving replied to Esther's last comment.
"Indeed." The middle-aged woman opened up the portfolio and took out a CD. "Cleburne, you may be interested to know this came from your friend Dr. Chalmers' brother. He said the Danites had picked up rumors of it, and thought we would find it interesting." She placed the CD in the player on the table in front of her. She then pressed Play, and a male elderly-sounding voice filled the room.
"My friends, my brothers and sisters, those that follow the path of darkness are everywhere. Not just in those places one would normally assume, not just those godless cities of vice and sin such as Las Vegas or Los Angeles, but also in the more pleasant places of the world. Indeed, the battle of the evil that came first against the one who is out of time, yet not, will come to a head in the dale of the sun..." Esther pressed the pause button.
"Okay, did he just say what I *thought* he just said?" Xander asked, his brain focusing on the last sentence to the exclusion of almost everything else.
"Sure sounded like it to me," Cleburne growled. "Esther, just where did this come from, and who is that guy who's speaking?!"
Esther took two files out of the portfolio and handed them to Xander and Cleburne. Then she looked up at the screen. "Irving, the computer file with the information should have arrived in your secure email account by now."
Hollins nodded and checked his email account. "Yes it has, thank you."
"Jesus Christ on a freakin' sidecar. Remember when your existence was a deep dark secret, kid? I do. Now, it seems like you're a freaking celebrity, too many people know about you! I mean, there's even a website about you! Something we can keep trying to shut down as much as we like, it still keeps popping up elsewhere on the Internet just a few days later," Cleburne grumbled. "All right, who exactly is this clown?"
"Meet Reverend Andrew G. Crumley. He's a fundamentalist minister based in Montana. He owns a cattle ranch up there, and does a weekly broadcast on his shortwave radio to his congregation - from a church built on his property, no less," Esther explained. "It's all perfectly legal, I can assure you."
"And?" Xander asked, figuring there had to be more.
"That's it, oddly enough we can't find anything else that would raise any red flags. No demonic connections, no survivalist militia connections, no income tax evasions, nothing except a regular old-fashioned fundamentalist minister," Agent Malcolm Fletcher said as he came into the conference room. "Sorry I'm late."
He turned to Xander and Cleburne and added, "Mrs. Marcum asked me to do a background check on Crumley. The FBI's mainframe and all other data banks I have access to say he's exactly what he appears to be. A legitimate holy roller, adored by his flock."
"Okay, not that I believe in coincidence, but I've heard it *does* happen once in a while. Any possibility he got lucky once, by wild accidental chance?" Cleburne asked.
Esther nodded at the file in front of them. "Read what he else he's been talking about to his listeners, on his radio program."
Xander started reading the dot points out loud. "A dark one with a soul in the City of Angels; a lass called to fight the darkness, a slayer of evil; a redheaded witch turned from the darkness at the last moment; the one out of time who has lived it once before and is changing it the second time; a key in human form; a seer who sees through the pain; demons who ruled the world before the time of man." Xander looked up. "Okay, is anyone else besides me kinda freaked out?"
"I would be if I could afford to, kid," Cleburne replied, looking annoyed more than anything else. "Crap. He can't be a regular minister, he knows too much." The head of STW read more phrases out loud. "The cyclopean one with two eyes. The twin towers will fall, and a tumult will ensure. Yet they will not fall, and the tumult still happens. Doesn't that sound like something we did a few months ago?"
"I can see now why the Danites would think this would be of interest to us," Hollins said. "Do they have anything to indicate why this man knows what he knows?"
Esther shook her head. "No, they're just as surprised as we are. Apparently, someone in the know up that way heard the broadcasts and then notified the Danites, who then contacted us."
"This guy knows a lot, he even knows about the things we've kept to ourselves. I mean, some of this we haven't shared with anyone yet," Cleburne said with a frown.
"And the dates for some of the references are remarkable," Hollins remarked.
"What?" Xander asked, looking confused.
"The notes the Danites compiled indicate that Reverend Crumley started broadcasting about these events - all the way back in 1995," Irving pointed out, much to everyone's surprise.
Xander looked up and stated what everyone was thinking. "That was *before* I knew about vampires and demons and everything else that goes bump in the night. I was just some kid in junior high back then."
"Kinda hard to imagine you as a kid in junior high, Xander," Malcolm smirked at his friend.
Xander shrugged. "And yet, it's true. All I ever did in those days was slack off in class, hang with my buds Jesse and Willow, and make life as miserable as possible for Cordelia and her sheep. Good times, or at least so I thought."
"So what do we think is going on with this Crumley guy?" Cleburne wanted to know, redirecting the conversation back to the original topic at hand.
Xander leaned back. "Only one way to find out for sure, I gotta go ask him."
Local Doublemeat Palace, Sunnydale, California. The same time
Dawn Summers stood behind the counter, wearing her work uniform; red pants, a red-and-white striped shirt, and a hat with a stuffed animal head on top. It was pretty much the graveyard shift, working on New Year's Day, but the young woman needed the money and so had shown up for work on time. {Oh my God, I feel like a total idiot wearing this crap.}
Well, it wasn't as if she had much choice. Recently, things had gotten so bad financially that Giles had abandoned his condo and moved into1630 Revello Drive full-time in order to support the Summers women; especially his Slayer and his girlfriend. And to Dawn's mind, there was not enough 'yuck' in the world thinking of her mother like that! But given that there was no other choice and those two had been in a serious relationship for over a year, Dawn didn't have a problem with Giles sharing his money and his life with her mom.
What she had a problem with was what everyone else had gotten up to lately.
Buffy had, like, become *obsessed* with tracking Xander down, wherever he was hiding these days. Apart from the Slaying, that was all she seemed to care about; Dawn couldn't remember when was the last time Big Sis had gone out on a date and enjoyed herself, even though that was what college life was supposed to be all about.
Jonathan had similarly become obsessed with turning that rat, Amy, into a human being again. Kinda hard to believe it was almost exactly three years now since that Gingerbread demon had come to town, and her mom had almost murdered her sister; Dawn still had vivid memories of that night at City Hall, even though she knew that they were just fakes, where Buffy, Willow and that Amy girl had almost been burned alive at the stake.
Plus Willow had recently confessed about the late-night visit she had gotten from Baba Yaga, and the ancient witch's offer to become her mentor. Dawn didn't know why, but that had definitely led to a rift between Willow and Tara lately; maybe because the redhead had planned to do that memory modification spell in secret, or maybe because Tara was jealous Baba Yaga hadn't made such an offer to her, or maybe it was something else entirely. But whatever the reason, there was definitely trouble in Paradise now in that direction.
Anya and Andrew? Dawn snorted to herself, ever since the former demon had had that weird dream concerning Faith, that relationship had degenerated into shouting matches and continuous hostile glares. Dawn had a bet going with her friend Janice that Andrew and Anya would be over and done with, in less than two weeks.
"Dawn? Dawn! I need you to work the front counter, stat!"
Dawn shook herself out of her reverie, after hearing the voice of the manager. "Coming, Manny!"
"You were day-dreaming again, weren't you?" one of Dawn's co-workers named Gary asked as she walked past him.
Dawn stopped and said, "I prefer to think of it as spending my time wondering why the hell I'm working at this dump, when all of my friends are enjoying their day off."
Gary sent her a look. "You better stop that. I had to listen to Manny's speech about how 'levity is the time-thief that picks the pocket of the company' today, so..."
"I prefer the one that goes, 'Manny's a humorless dolt who picks the pocket of he-should-bite-me,' personally," Dawn riposted with a smile.
"You really need to be quiet about that," Gary sighed, before he picked up the tray with fries and soda and both teenagers headed for the front counter of the fast-food establishment.
Manny, a middle-aged man wearing a similar red-striped uniform with thick black glasses, glared at them both. "Took you long enough. Gary, go work the grill; Dawn get behind the cash register. Let's move it, people!"
"Uh, not to point out the obvious, but it's kinda dead in here today," Dawn gestured to all the empty booths. "Why the rushy-y rush?"
"Bosses don't need to give reasons; they just have to say 'move it'. So move it already, Dawn!" the restaurant manager snapped.
Resisting the urge the roll her eyes and retort with a smart reply, Dawn obeyed orders and got behind the counter. Soon a customer came in and said, "Good morning, dear."
"Hi, I'm Dawn, what can I get you?" The female teen inwardly cringed at how mechanical she was sounding, but fortunately the old lady wearing a wig didn't seem to mind.
"I'd like a small coffee, and cherry pie," the customer said with a smile.
"Coming right up." Dawn hit the buttons on the cash register, and then got the wig lady what she wanted. "That's a dollar ninety-two, ma'am."
"Here you go. And have a nice day, dear," the old lady waved goodbye.
"Thanks. You too."
Business soon started to pick up, as the breakfast crowd started to pour in. Dawn quickly lost track of time, as all the orders started to pour in at once. Phrases like "We need two Number Four Medley Meals, a junior Medley, a Fisherman's Medley with bacon, and a kid's meal. Plus three fries, a chocolate-y shake, and extra pickles on one of the Medleys with that" were enough to start frying her brain cells, when all of a sudden...
"I have a question for you, Summers. What exactly is in the Doublemeat nuggets? 'Cause it sure doesn't taste like chicken to me," the popular girl known as Kirsty (the Cordelia Chase of her generation) asked Dawn with a sunny smile.
{Great. Just what I need to make my day complete!} "You want some nuggets, Kirsty? Will that be medium or full size?" Dawn asked dully.
"Actually, I just want you to tell me - what's in the DoubleMeat nuggets? I mean, maybe I should take this up with your manager, since you don't appear to know?" the brunette girl asked cheerfully.
Dawn abruptly decided to stop playing games with the buxom cheerleader. "I'm working here, and there are customers waiting behind you. So you either have to order something or leave, Kirsty."
Kirsty's grin vanished. "You think you can just talk to me like that and get away with it, you freak? I swear, Summers, I don't know what the hell Kevin ever saw in you, but I-"
"Hey, kid, are you gonna order something or not? We're waiting here!" a thirty-something guy holding a couple of little girls said to Kirsty impatiently.
"Is there a problem?" Manny finally showed up, having heard the commotion.
"No problem, I was just leaving. See you at school after the new year's break, Summers," Kirsty said bitchily, before she turned and flounced off.
"Finally! Can we have three Medley meals?" the father asked, holding his two kids by the hand.
Manny waited until Dawn had finished serving the customers, before he sent her a stern look. "I thought you knew how Doublemeat Palace has a strict policy about fraternizing with your friends during business hours, Dawn."
"Oh, she's not my friend. Kirsty's a vindictive bitch who she hates me, because I won and she lost where a boy was concerned," Dawn retorted, doing her best to bury the terrible memories of Kevin Berman's death. It had been nearly a year since her boyfriend's funeral, after that damned drunk driver had killed him; and almost killed her sister, her mother and herself as well.
"Whatever. Just make sure it doesn't happen again," Manny said warningly.
{How the hell am I supposed to do that, *boss*? It's not like I can stop her from entering the establishment, can I?} Dawn thought to herself nastily. {Well, unless I can arrange to feed Kirsty to a vampire or something.}
"Hello. Could I have a diet Coke?" the wig lady from before suddenly showed up, requesting her drink of choice.
"Sure thing, ma'am," Dawn replied automatically, before getting her customer the beverage. "Here you go."
"Thank you, dear," the old lady said graciously. "And by the way, I couldn't help noticing you handled that floozy pretty well just now."
"Thanks, uh..." Dawn started to say, before she realized she didn't know the customer's name. "I appreciate that."
"You're welcome. And you know, I think you really might make it here, dear. Not like some of the others who work at this place, where suddenly you never see them again. I can see you working here for a long time."
Dawn sent her a fake smile. "Thanks, that's great. You have a nice day..."
Curiously, Dawn encountered the Wig Lady, as she had mentally dubbed the old woman, every day for the next week - until it was revealed that she was a lamprey-like demon in disguise, and that she had murdered both Gary and Manny by eating them alive. Luckily, Buffy chopped the demon's head off and sent her body through the meat grinder before she could do the same to Dawn, saving her little sister from becoming a Medley meal herself later that night.
Needless to say, the Slayer made sure the Key quit her job the very next day, as some dangers in this town just weren't worth the subsistence-level money.
Rural Montana. January 3, 2002
The tires of the lime-green Chevrolet Blazer crunched on the slush, which was made up of a combination of snow and gravel, as it drove down the unpaved road. Xander, in the rear passenger seat, pulled his coat tight against his body. No matter how often he was exposed to it these days, he hated the cold. For anyone born and raised in southern California, it was downright unnatural for the temperature to drop so brutally low during the daylight hours.
In the driver's seat Gunny drove carefully along the road, seemingly not paying attention as the conversation started up again within the vehicle.
"I know you mentioned that Chicago was cold the first time you went there, but was it as bad as this?" Fred asked, sitting next to Xander.
"Actually, this feels much worse. Much, much worse," Xander answered slowly.
Cleburne sat in the front passenger seat, a cell phone up next to his ear. He was clearly straining to hear whoever was talking to him. "Look, I know, but what can I do? This is something more for the diplomats at Foggy Bottom to handle than for us."
He listened for a few seconds. "Well, we haven't really done much liaising with the Indian military. I know we talked to them in Iceland, but I'm not sure those were the people who are on the level you want." Cleburne listened for another few seconds. "Well, the reason for that is because for most of the twentieth century, we decided to back the other guy! When the time came to call them, we didn't even have the right phone number. So don't blame me, Esther, blame fifty years' worth of foreign policy experts!"
Again, there was a period of silence. "I know, I know, if I can think of anything, I'll call you. But to be honest, I'd say this isn't something we can help with. I'll call you later when we figure out what the deal is with the Reverend. Yeah, probably much later." He hung up the phone.
"What's up with Mrs. Marcum?" Gunny asked.
"Washington is all worked up over India and Pakistan glaring at each other ever since that attack on the Indian Parliament. The people at 1600 are worried over a nuke being let loose, and things getting really ugly. They have to be *real* worried if they're asking us what contacts we have with the Indian military. Wish I could help them, but my rolodex is kind of a sparse when it comes to people next to the button in New Delhi."
"I'd say not to worry as nothing happened during the first go-around, but then I know better than to just assume stuff like that, these days. How bad is it?" Xander asked.
"It's always bad when two countries who have gone to war multiple times in the past fifty years are talking about doing so again, only this time with nukes," Cleburne answered.
"Nasty thought," Oz said in a manner of fact tone.
"Got that right," Cleburne said. "Here we are."
The Blazer pulled up in front of a ranch house. Soon, a middle-aged man stepped out onto the porch. "Are you all the ones who called for a meeting with Reverend Crumley?"
"We are. Damocles Communications," Cleburne used the name of one of the cover corporations that the Siberians used, on occasion.
The man nodded. "Come on in, the Reverend's expecting you. He's just sitting down for lunch, and said to bring y'all into the dining room. There's enough food prepared for everyone."
Nodding, Xander and the others followed the man into the house and through a long corridor decorated in a distinctly Western motif.
An older gentleman dressed in a suit with a bolo tie stood at the end of the table. "Good morning, welcome to my humble ranch. I'm Reverend Andrew Crumley, and I'm pleased to meet you." He nodded at the dining table in the middle of the room. "You arrived just in time for lunch, I asked Dolores to prepare some food for you as well. I hope you like it."
They quickly took their places around the table as an old woman and a young girl hurried around placing food in the proper places. Xander inwardly sighed when he realized that the girl seemed unable to prevent herself from checking him out, when she thought no one was looking. {Great. Even here in the middle of nowhere, the women-folk just don't seem able to ignore me, please don't let this get me into trouble.}
A short while later, after lunch was over, Cleburne commented, "Reverend Crumley, this was an excellent meal, and I speak as one who knows. Mrs. Crumley, you did a splendid job."
Dolores smiled. "Thank you, I do appreciate the compliment. It's good to hear someone thinks I'm a good cook." The elderly woman started cleaning the food off the table.
Crumley smiled. "Now, Dolores, I do think you're a good cook, I just have to control myself - otherwise, I might get too big for my doctor's comfort." Dolores smiled back.
Andrew turned back to the Siberians. "Now, I'm pretty sure you all didn't come all this way to hear about my eating habits, did you?"
"Actually, Damocles Communications is interested in possibly syndicating a variety of programs on a nationwide radio basis. One of the areas we're looking at is religious and family programming. We thought your program might be a good fit," Cleburne said. He had decided to do most of the talking, as rank hath its privileges.
Crumley leaned back and a slight smile on his face. "Well, that sounds nice, but then we all know that's not really why you're here."
"I beg your pardon?" Gunny said politely.
"I hafta admit, son, I probably would have been a little suspicious of you all coming here anyways. My brand of preaching has never really played as well as it travels. I know I get some followers from all over this part of the state, but most outsiders find it strange. Not their cup of Joe, so to speak." Crumley took a sip of his coffee.
"What makes you think we don't want to give it a try? After all, with the latest developments in Internet advertising, more and more niche markets are being exploited," Fred asked.
Crumley smiled at Fred. "Yes, well, the times are changing from what I grew up with. And I fully believe that there are people out there who know how to do such a thing, like what you're talking about. However, as I said, that's not why you're here. You people have come here for entirely different reasons."
"Sir, what do you mean by that?" Cleburne asked.
Crumley smiled and raised his left hand in a calming manner. "Take it easy, son; you're concerned about how I know what I know, those things I say on my broadcasts. They're things that get you and your friends worried. But I assure all of you, I am not a threat to you. You want to know how I know those things, and how I know you're not who you say you are?"
"All right. How do you?" Fred asked. Xander, who had yet to say anything, noticed that both Cleburne and Gunny had one of their hands out of sight. He exchanged a look with Oz, who simply nodded; neither of them had to guess what the two Marines were doing.
"Well, there are three things I need to tell you today. First is how I know the things I do." Crumley paused before he continued, "Sometimes, it just sorta comes to me. I'm sleeping or resting - my grandchildren call it meditating, but that's a fancy word that I'm not sure really applies to an old man like me. Anyway, I get these images or thoughts. Sometimes, they're fully formed, other times they unfold in front of me. They've never steered me wrong. God has seen fit to grace me with the sight, the second sight some call it." He looked at the Siberians. "You don't seem too surprised?"
"We're used to such things, Reverend," Xander replied. "And, uh, you said there were two other things we needed to discuss?"
"Yes, true enough. The second thing is that my granddaughter lives in Sunnydale, and her name is Cassandra Newton. Even though she prefers to call herself 'Cassie'. She said you were going to visit me."
Xander's eyes widened for a second as Oz and Fred looked at each other, reminded of when they had enlisted Dr. Chalmers' help to help the female teen avoid dying the way she had originally been destined to do. Harris then composed himself and said, "Oh, right. I see."
"She said that I could trust you and that I should help you."
"That was nice of her. And she knows about me, right?" Xander asked, leaning forward. "Not just this me, but the other me as well?"
"I'm not sure what you mean by that, son," Andrew Crumley frowned.
"Doesn't matter. It's just that I think I've finally figured out who Lemke's mysterious deep-throat caller was," Xander leaned back, recalling Halloween night when Dawn's friend Janice had almost been killed.
Cleburne glanced from Crumley to Xander. "Something I should know?"
"She said it was alright to tell him," Crumley said, looking at Xander.
"Definitely something I need to know, then," Cleburne said. "Would this have something to do with Chalmers' visit to Sunnydale a while back?"
"It sure does, the doc changed something from the original go-around. I can explain in detail later," Xander said.
"My little girl's heart, she explained to me about the heart defect and how Dr. Chalmers fixed it. Of course, she's thankful, just as we all are," Crumley said warmly.
"But it's not just about that, is it?" Xander asked. {And I wonder, what made Cassie go precog so much earlier than in the original history? I guess the Powers decided to meddle there, I suppose.}
"True enough, son. Her, me, Dolores the others here at the ranch, and now all of you, they know about my second sight. But they do not know about Cassie. How the family talent manifested itself in her," Crumley said slowly. "Thing is, she told me just a few weeks ago, during the Christmas holiday when she was up here. She said she had to wait until after September 11th to tell me. Said that things had changed to the point where she needed to share what she knew with me, since I'd be seeing you before she did."
He turned to Xander. "Young man, I know at some point she'll do this herself, but I want to personally thank you for saving my granddaughter's life. Without you doing what you did, we would have lost her soon enough, apparently. I just couldn't stand the thought of that happening."
Crumley reached up and brushed his left eye with the back of his right hand. "Thank you."
The room was silent for about ten seconds. Cleburne looked over at the others, and Xander could tell there was going to be quite a conversation later. {And hoo boy, but Mother Hen is gonna let fly guns blazing, from the look on his face!} But then Crumley spoke up again, looking at Cleburne.
"She said you should know, Cassie said to tell you that she'll call your friend stationed there if the world is ending. However, she would much prefer not to be taken to some government lab, or someplace called 'Warehouse 23', whatever that is. She told me that if she stays in Sunnydale, she can help the people there. She said you would understand." The holy roller looked at Xander as he said the last sentence.
Cleburne looked at Xander, who nodded silently in return. Cleburne turned back to Crumley. "Alright, the kid and me are going to talk later about all this. However, you said there were three things you had to tell us. What's the third thing?"
Crumley nodded. "Ah, yes. You know the how, and now you need to know the why. You're looking for a spear, I think, or at least what it looks like a spear."
"Cassie couldn't help you with the specifics on that little item?" Xander asked, instantly knowing what the holy man was talking about.
Crumley shook his head. "No, son, I'm sorry. What I say comes from my dreams alone. I've seen bits and pieces, images and thoughts. A long spear, a really old spear. It's important, you're looking for it. The Knights of Byzantium - you know them, or so I gather - they know where it is, but they don't know that they know where it is. Because so many things were hidden from the Turks when Constantinople was lost, all those centuries ago."
"Anything else?" Gunny asked.
"The archives of the priests, you need to look there, maybe Rome. Also, there's a phrase for when you have what you're looking for." Crumley paused and then said, "Blood is life."
Xander stiffened at the phrase, something he remembered hearing in a different world. A different life. He remembered who had said it, and the circumstances it had been said under.
Crumley continued speaking, "You need to find this spear. That's all I know."
"That's interesting," Cleburne commented. Sensing that the meeting was over he then stood up, as the rest of the Siberians did likewise. "Reverend, it was a pleasure to meet you, but I think it's best if we get going now. And thanks again for lunch, the steaks were delicious."
"We actually raise the cattle right here on the ranch," Crumley replied with a smile.
"Oh. Any chance you could deliver some to the state of Virginia?" Fred asked hopefully. "See, Xander here, he could do with some more red meat in his diet."
"Don't listen to her, Reverend, I'm fine!" Xander said with a mock glare in Fred's direction.
"Come to think of it, I wouldn't object to eating steaks like that again. Reverend Crumley, we'll be in touch about that," Cleburne said reflectively, before shaking the minister's hand. "Thank you for having us here."
"It was my pleasure, son. On account of the Lord teaches us to open our hearts to our fellow man," Crumley said humbly.
"Just do us all a favor and don't mention any of this on your next radio broadcast, okay?" Xander asked Crumley pointedly. "One of these days, the transmission might reach the wrong set of ears, if you know what I mean."
"The Lord has a plan for all of us, son. And His will shall be be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven," the old man said firmly, as he shook hands with Xander. "May God be with you in your quest."
Caritas Karaoke bar, Los Angeles, California. January 9, 2002
"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Cordy - happy birthday to you!"
"God, can this possibly get any cheesier?" Cordelia asked, but nonetheless she had a huge smile on her face as she looked around the demon nightclub. Lorne had closed his bar tonight for this private function, donating the facilities to host the young woman's 21st birthday party.
"How about we just skip to the part where you make a wish?" Gwen asked, looking extremely comfortable as Gunn held her close - without any fear of being electrocuted.
"And then blow out the candles!" Wesley said happily, eyeing the huge birthday cake Angel had bought earlier today.
{A wish?} Cordelia asked herself. Here in this world, there were no bad memories of a vampire Willow showing up as an indirect result of her wish for Buffy never showing up in Sunnydale, so Cordelia wished for the first thing that popped into her mind.
{I wish that things work out for me in terms of becoming a big-name Hollywood actress, but if they don't, I have something to fall back upon with my college degree - instead of being Angel's seer-slash-secretary for the rest of my life.} Ms. Chase thought to herself, before taking a big breath and blowing out all the candles.
"Three cheers for Cordelia. Hip-hip, hooray!" Virginia, Wesley's girlfriend, called out as everyone joined her in shouting out the last word. The birthday cheer was repeated twice more, until Cordy found herself blushing at all the attention she was getting. Something that would never have happened back in high school, that was for sure.
"Speech, speech!" more than one member of Angel Investigations then called out.
"Okay, fine. I just wanna say thank you, everyone, for coming here, and for all my birthday presents - and Lorne, thank you for shutting Caritas down for the night, just so I could have my party here," Cordelia said magnanimously. "I mean seriously, I'll never forget this. So what say we just eat the cake, and then enjoy ourselves for the rest of the evening?"
Connor chose that moment to start crying, and so Darla followed Lorne to his private room in order to take care of her and Angel's son. The two couples suddenly had eyes only for each other as Wesley started cutting the cake, which left Angel and Cordelia alone together for the moment.
"So. How's it feel, finally reaching the big two-one?" Angel asked casually.
"I'm not sure, actually," Cordelia confessed. "When I first arrived in this city, you know, for sure I didn't think I'd be celebrating it like this."
"Like what?" the ensouled vampire asked, looking confused.
"With true friends and family, even if some of them are vampires or demons," Cordelia shook her head. "I figured I'd be one of the rich and successful by this point, right? Surrounded by people wanting my autograph. An A-list Hollywood actress, or whatever."
"Well, it's not impossible for something like that to happen eventually," Angel said cautiously. "You're still young by human standards, you-"
"I plan to have something to fall back on, just in case that dream doesn't pan out. Hence, the whole college girl thing," Cordelia cut him off firmly. "I'm still trying to figure out where that's gonna take me, though. I eventually wanna work in the movie business, sure, but what if I simply don't make it as an actress? What's the alternative - work for you all my life?"
An uncertain look appeared on the young woman's face. "I don't think so, Angel. Ever since I started attending USC I've been asking myself, what are my options? What should I do? What would..." Cordelia cut herself off, refusing to look at Angel.
"What?" the Champion asked gently. "You can tell me. What is it, Cordy?"
"Well, I was about to say, 'what would Xander do?' - but then I figured he'd probably tell me to drop dead or something," she replied mournfully, staring at the floor.
"You know he wouldn't say that," Angel reassured her, even though the centuries-old vampire wished that Cordelia would move on from her high school boyfriend, once and for all. {It's not healthy for her to keep obsessing about Xander like this, no doubt about it.}
"You think I've become obsessed with him, don't you? Kinda like Buffy has," the seer said softly, which almost caused Angel's jaw to drop to the floor over how well Cordy could tell what he was thinking. "Oh, yeah, I've been in touch with Willow, I know what Little Miss Slays-A-Lot is like these days. But I'm not that bad, Angel. Sure, I miss Xander and I want him back, but-"
"You know you need to find someone else," Angel interrupted, finishing the sentence for her. Looking uncomfortable at the stare his seer sent him, Angel quickly left Cordelia behind, saying that he could hear Darla calling for him to help with Connor.
{Yeah, right.} Cordelia thought to herself cynically, before she turned to watch Wes and Virginia, plus Gunn and Gwen, talking and laughing amongst themselves. { Sheesh. It's my birthday, and I don't even have a boyfriend to share it with? Totally feeling like a fifth wheel here, I really wish... }
All of a sudden, as in response to her unformed wish, a shimmering in the air appeared behind her. The shimmering quickly condensed in a swirly blue-coloured portal, as the Chase woman finally got a clue and turned around. And then – Groo came flying out of the portal, and crash-landed onto the table closest to the stage.
{Hello, salty goodness.} was the first thing that popped into the young woman's mind, as Cordelia got an eyeful of the Pylean warrior's drool-worthy muscular abs and pecs.