A stone-and-steel sign marked Wainwright's entrance. Cordelia checked her mirror, then turned left and entered a different world. On one side of the sign was Los Angeles, the sprawling, noisy, raucous metropolis; on the other, an oasis of large trees and brick sidewalks, red brick buildings and open lawns. Wainwright had been founded in 1927, which in LA practically made it an historical landmark. Cordelia rolled slowly along the main thoroughfare, searching for the proper cross-street, then saw a huge sign on the lawn ahead. She followed the arrows, parked, and got out, then stretched and took a deep breath; Matti hadn't lied about the cigar smoker. The funk wasn't really noticeable with the AC cranked, but it was still there, lurking in the background like that British actor whose face you recognized but whose name you could not recall when you saw them in a supporting role in a big film. She unlocked the trunk, took out her bags, then squared her shoulders and walked up the sidewalk through the bright sunshine and into Keehner Hall.

Stepping from the calm, soothing sunshine into the lobby was like jumping onto a merry-go-round at full speed. Young men and women gathered in small groups or moved back and forth, intent on some destination; the air was filled with the high-pitched, fast-paced chatter of excited youth. A girl with an ethnic background of intriguing diversity and spectacular results sat at the reception desk just inside the door, an old honest-to-goodness built-in oak desk. She smiled, a broad and dazzling crescent of blinding white that almost caused Cordelia to take a step back.

"Hi," she said, "I'm Whitney. Welcome to Wainwright Summer '99. You are?"

"Uh, Cordelia, Cordelia Chase." She felt movement behind her and stepped to one side, just in time to avoid being crushed by three boys horseplaying their way through the door.

"Hmmm." Whitney picked up some papers and used a pen to scan through the listed names. She went through the first page, the second page… Cordelia started to feel nervous when the fourth page was flipped, then Whitney said, "Oh, here you are. Last-minute girl."

"What?" Cordelia stammered.

"Oh, you got added to the roster late, so I guess they just added you name to the end. See?" Whitney turned the roster around so that Cordelia could, indeed, see. "You're in 347, that's up those stairs and head toward the middle of the hall."

"Thanks." Cordelia looked around. "Is everyone here for the cheerleading camp?"

"What? Oh, gosh, no." Whitney shook her head; rainbow sparkles practically danced off her hair. "We've got cheerleaders, volleyball, uh… speech and drama, instrumental and vocal music…" She threw up her hands and offered another blinding smile of the sort accompanied by angelic choirs. "I think that's about it?"

Cordelia looked around the lobby, at the old, richly polished wood paneling, the tastefully worn rugs, and the old-school light sconces on the walls. To her right, three steps led down to a large open room with a real fireplace and a grand piano. "Uh, is everyone in here?"

"Yup." Whitney nodded, her eyes big and shiny. "It's coed by floor, so, girls on first, guys on second, girls on third, like you, and guys on four. You've got plenty of time to unpack… dinner's in Dickey at six, then it's get-to-know-you games."

"Great," Cordelia mumbled through clenched teeth. "Can't hardly wait."

Matti Hollis tossed the magazine onto the floor and picked up the TV remote. She surfed channels for a few minutes, then shut off the set with a disgusted shake of her head. She stood up and walked barefoot onto the front porch where she stood facing the afternoon sun. She looked up the street, then down the street, and felt restless and unmoored. She took a deep breath and shook her head.

"Damn that girl," she muttered, then headed back into the house. Time to follow one of her maxims: when in doubt, hit the weights.

"Hello, new members of the Double Blue, I'm Karen Martin." The woman with the striking Nordic blue eyes stopped pacing the sideline of the gym in the Southard Athletic and Activity Center and looked up into the seats. Sixteen young people stared back at her, all of them dressed in some sort of athletic clothing: shorts, T-shirts, sweats. She nodded and resumed traversing the polished hardwood. "Welcome to cheer and dance camp. Since those groups share a lot of common training and I coach both of them, you're here together for now. I'll be spending time with both groups, but tonight, let's meet your camp leaders." She turned her back to the campers and clapped her hands. "Captains!" Two young women entered from the east end of the gym, a male and female duo from the west. "Dance members, these are your captains, Traci Whitmore and Reagan Beech." The two young women waved. "If you would go with them, right now!" Half of the campers climbed out of their seats and scrambled down the steps to cluster around their leaders. "And now, cheer team, here are your captains, Allie Addison and Dorian Parks!"

Cordelia joined the other new cheerleaders in their descent to the gym floor. She was about the same height as Allie Addison; the co-captain was a blond girl with lots of hair, green eyes, pointed chin, and a strong nose. Dorian Parks had sleepy eyes, a face made up of planes and angles, and a head shaved so close it looked like his scalp was shaded with a pencil. He was only a couple of inches taller than Allie and his shoulders were almost comically broad. He spoke first. "Welcome to the Blue Wave. Come with us." He set off at a quick pace, fast enough that the campers had to hustle to keep up. He led them out of the west end of the gym, crossed the lobby, and pushed through a set of double doors. "There," he said, holding out his right arm in an imperial gesture as the campers grouped around him, "take a look."

It was a striking view. Just below them was a lush green oval bounded by a brick-red track, then, across from the campers, the grandstand rising up, not so much bigger or different than the field at Sunnydale High, but somehow grander, greater, part of a different world. Cordelia felt a warm tightness in her chest. "That's where you're going to be performing. Let's go." They went down two flights of stairs, shoes thumping on steps, then crossed the track and assembled in the end zone. Dorian stood with his arms crossed and his feet wide apart, his legs so muscular that the divisions in his quadriceps were easily visible. "This is where you'll become part of the Blue Wave tradition, a tradition we take very seriously. Let's start here-" he pointed at the girl to Cordelia's left "-and go this way. Your name and high school."

"Tamarra Simms." Medium height, slender, skin the color of 70% dark chocolate, huge eyes, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. "La Jolla High."

"Amber Caroll." Tall, great skin, short brown hair, matching eyes with fabulous lashes, great posture. "Rancho Cucamonga Cougars."

"Maria Espinoza." Short, sturdy legs, super-black hair pulled back in a long, long ponytail, challenging lift to her jaw. "West Covina."

"David Mosely." Long arms, big hands, great jaw, hair in between brown and blond, startling green eyes. "Mountain Ridge High, Glendale… Arizona."

"Kelli Collins." A winner at the genetic lottery, backed up by the best nutrition and orthodontia available, shampoo-ad blond hair and eyes halfway between the two shades of blue in Wainwright's colors. "Okemos, Michigan."

"Jefferson Taylor." Tallest of the campers, hair in short braids, weightlifter arms and dancer hips, utterly relaxed. "Pasadena."

"Wyatt Pilgrim." Broad face, stubby nose, freckles across the forehead and cheeks, messy blond hair and brown eyes. "Garden Grove."

"Juniper Taliferro." High cheekbones, square jaw, copper skin, dark hooded eyes, hair in two thick braids that fell to the shoulder blades. "Creswell, Oregon."

Cordelia licked her lips. "Cordelia Chase. Sunnydale."

Dorian's eyes swept around the group. "Good to put faces with the names. Let's get to know each other a little bit."

Allie stepped forward. "Let's play a little game. This is called back-to-back. Here…" She quickly assigned partners. Cordelia found herself paired with Kelli Collins.

"Okay," Allie said, "everyone sit down, back to your partner." Cordelia got down on the turf and pressed her back against the other girl. "Now," Allie continued, "reach back and link your arms at the elbows." They all complied. "Here's where it gets simple." Allie held up a whistle. "When I blow this, you try to stand up as a team. First ones on their feet win. Got it?" Everyone nodded.

Cordelia turned to look straight ahead, feeling the stretch in her shoulders, the way the discs of her spine bumped against Kelli's. As she took a deep breath, she locked eyes with Juniper. A look passed between them, then Juniper set her jaw in a silent but unmistakable challenge. Cordelia's eyes widened.

The whistle blew and four teams began to struggle, trying to get to their feet. Cordelia and Kelli got their feet under them, but Cordelia felt one foot slip as they started to stand, and they landed hard on their butts. She drew her feet up and, over her knees, saw Juniper get her feet planted and push back against Tamarra, their backsides rising a couple of inches. Cordelia gritted her teeth and jammed both feet into the turf, then threw herself back against Kelli and shoved, hard. They lurched upward, then wavered, but they were high enough that Cordelia was able to get her right foot back and thrust up, hauling Kelli up with her. Cordelia staggered and almost fell, but Kelli scrambled and got her feet under her, then jerked her arms free. The whistle blew.

"Winners!" Allie yelled as she grabbed Cordelia and Kelli's hands and raised them in the air. "Woo, Last Minute!" Cordelia stared at Allie as Kelli flexed her arm.

"You okay?" Cordelia asked.

"Yeah, I think so." Kelli rotated her shoulder. "You really yanked there at the end."

"Sorry, I don't know what happened."

Kelli shook her head. "No, it's cool. I'll just try to be a little quicker next time." She held out her palm. "I like winning." Cordelia grasped the other girl's hand briefly, then turned toward Dorian and Allie; as she did so, she caught Juniper's eye again. The other girl lifted her chin, then nodded; Cordelia nodded back.

"Circle up," Allie yelled. "Human Knot. Close your eyes, right hand in."

As Cordelia closed her eyes, Kelli whispered, "Right, never done this one before."

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" Willow asked.

"I don't know," Buffy said. They sat on a bench near one of the entrances to Wilkens' Grove park. The sun wasn't quite over the horizon; the golden light still lingered and made the shadows look warm and inviting rather than cold and forbidding. Give it another hour and that would change.

"I was thinking of going to the library in the morning," Willow said.

"You could have just said you wanted some time alone," Buffy said, leaning over and bumping her friend with a shoulder. "So, pool in the afternoon, movie night at my house? The Faculty just came out."

Willow's mouth twisted. "Sure."

Buffy pulled back. "Are you okay? You seem not okay."

Willow shook her head, but she kept her eyes on the ground. "I'm not not-okay, I'm more… pensive."

Buffy nodded and sighed. "Let me guess. Did the guys leaving bring on this pensae?"

"Kinda, I guess." Willow shrugged. "It was just… They were here, then they left."

"Yeahhhhhh." Buffy rolled her head up, looking through the leaves at the waning sunlight. "No montage, no carefully chosen song..."

"We didn't even have Letters to Cleo playing on the roof of the house." Willow looked at the Slayer with mock sad-eyes; at least Buffy hoped they were mock sad-eyes.

"Yep," she said. "Reality bites… but they'll be back in three weeks, Cordelia's back in two-"

"Yeah, can we discuss that?" Willow pushed up straight and turned to her friend. "Why did I feel a little thing when she drove away?"

Buffy pursed her lips. "Jealous that she has a car?" She shrugged. "Like it or not, Cordelia's a part of our lives… a huge part." She looked down at the ground. "And then they'll leave again, and you will, too, and I'll be here all alone."

"Buffy, don't!" Willow looked ready to cry. "Don't put guilt on me like that."

"No, I can see it now." Buffy stretched out her arm and made a sweeping gesture across the sky. "It's 2049, our fiftieth reunion, you come back, a Nobel Prize winner, Oz and Trey have Grammys in their back pocket, Cordelia's… I don't know, married to somebody rich." She looked at Willow and they both shrugged. "And Xander, Xander… Xander's wearing a plaid sport coat and carrying a box of T-shirts, maybe… and I'll be here to greet you, stakes dangling from my walker." She smiled wryly. "At least, I hope I will be."

Cordelia grabbed the lanyard around her neck and unlocked the door of Room 347. She was tired and sweaty and a little exhilarated. The real drills would start in the morning, so a quick shower and bed were in order tonight. The room had two windows in the exterior wall, one desk between them and another desk against the right-hand wall (pretty much straight ahead from the door), dressers in the left-hand corners, and bunk beds against the left wall. The top bunk was occupied. A tall, lanky girl turned her head toward the door.

"Hi," she said. "Roomie." She sat up, carefully ducking her head to avoid hitting the ceiling, and slid down onto the floor. Cordelia sized up her new roommate: this girl was tall, almost as tall as Matti, but slender and whiplike. Shaggy, dirty-blond hair framed a long, thin face with a straight nose, wide mouth with very full lips, and large hazel eyes. "Tess Lavigne." She wore gray gym shorts and a T-shirt with a faded USA Volleyball logo.

Cordelia grasped the offered hand. "Cordelia Chase. Lavigne, like…"

Tess nodded. "Yeah, like Avril. No relation, though. I'm from Temecula, not Toronto. What camp're you here for?"

"Cheerleading. You?"

"Volleyball." Tess offered a slight lift of her shoulders. "The shirt's not ironic."

"Oh," Cordelia said. "I thought we would be rooming with other people from our camp."

Tess shook her head. "Nah. They mix it up so that we interact with people from other areas of interest."

Cordelia looked impressed. "Was that in the brochure?"

"Nah. My cousin came to camp here, like, five years ago." Tess glanced over her shoulder. "I hope you don't mind I took the top bunk. If I try to sleep in the bottom bunk, I'll fracture my skull getting up in the morning."

"No, that's fine." Cordelia grabbed her toiletry kit off the dresser. "I'm gonna shower, then go to bed." She opened the top drawer of the dresser and pulled out her robe.

"Cool." Tess hopped up on the bed with a grace and agility that surprised Cordelia. "I'll probably be out when you come back. They worked us pretty hard tonight."

"Okay," the cheerleader replied. "I'll try to be quiet."

Rupert Giles stared at the boxes stacked on his closet floor. Something needed to be done, but he'd be damned if he could either decide what it was or summon the will to do it. He scratched the back of his neck and pondered not the task but the lassitude that kept him from it. He had never felt anything like this before. When Jenny was killed, he felt grief, loss, and hate; when Buffy was in peril, fear and anger had been his companions; when his past intruded, in the form of Ethan Rayne (among others), he knew regret, but this feeling of emptiness, of inertia, was new and disturbing. He was grateful for the knock at the door; someone, even if it was only the postman, was going to receive his full attention. It was not the postman. "Buffy, is… is everything all right?"

The Slayer shrugged. "Does something have to be wrong for me to visit my Watcher?"

"Well, yes, that's usually the way." Giles stepped back and swung the door wide. "Please, come in."

"Thanks." Buffy wandered across the threshold, then turned to face the librarian. "So, what did you guys think of the show on Saturday night?"

Giles cleared his throat. "What makes you think we were there?"

Buffy scoffed. "Please. Standing up on the walkway? You might as well have a flashing blue light over your head." She sat down in an armchair. "So…?"

"It was very loud and very long." Giles adjusted his glasses.

Buffy squinted one eye. "C'mon, Giles, you were young in swinging London… what happened to the fun?"

"Swinging London was actually a decade before my time." Giles crossed the living room, headed toward the kitchen. "I was there during the punk years."

"Really?" Buffy looked confused. "You mean, like, Blink-182?"

Giles spun around. "Do not sully the reputations of bands like Buzzcocks and the Clash with that comparison."

"There we go." Buffy made an invisible check mark in the air. "Nerve, touched." She grinned at her Watcher.

Giles sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Was your morning so empty that the only activity you could conceive of was annoying me?"

"Willow's at the library, so… I guess I decided to pester the librarian." The Slayer crossed her legs at the knee; her right foot bounced in an uneven rhythm.

"Well, you have succeeded." He threw up his hands and turned.

"Really?" she said, and something in her voice caused her Watcher to stop.

"What do you mean?" he asked over his shoulder.

"It's just… y'know, the guys left yesterday, and Cordelia went to camp–"

Giles turned to face her. "Cordelia… went to… camp?"

"It's, like, some summer cheerleading camp at that college she's going to in LA for, like, two weeks." Buffy picked at one thumbnail as Giles sat down in the other chair. "It's so… a month ago, we were all about to die, literally, and we ended up covered in demon blood and guts, and then… they just got in their cars and drove off." She looked at Giles. "I'm having some trouble with the jump cuts."

"The… the what?"

"Jump cuts. Like, in a movie, when they just cut from one scene to another, boom!" Buffy made chopping motions in the air, then clasped her hands, unclasped them, and grabbed the arms of her chair.

"I understand." Giles noticed her skeptical expression. "I do. I'm undergoing a very similar experience myself… the defining structure of your time in Sunnydale is no longer operative. No matter what obstacles it presented, the school was a given focal point of your life and our interaction, the place where you were brought into contact with your friends, the… the site of the Hellmouth. Now…" he raised his hands, palms up "...what is our structure? You at university, me at the high school, the others–"

"Time out." Buffy held up her hands in the form of a 'T'. "Before we Thelma and Louise off the emotional cliff, let's pump the brakes, okay?"

"Yes, sorry." Giles nodded. "But, please, remember that you are not alone."

"For real?" She looked at him in that way that reminded him how very young she still was.

"Well, we're both here, aren't we?"

Buffy nodded, then stood up. "Listen, sorry to just dump and run, but… this did help. I just… I just wanted to talk to someone about it, and it's… literally your job."

Giles stood as well. "Actually, I'm not sure of that. I'm not certain that the Watchers Council even exists in any meaningful form, so, I'm not sure what my status is."

Buffy smiled a small, shy smile. "Doesn't matter what the sign on the door says, you'll always be my Watcher."

The librarian ducked his head. "Thank you. Thank you very much." They both started toward the front door. "So, do you… do you have any other plans for the day?"

"Willow and I are going to the pool this afternoon and, I think, movie night tonight." She held up a hand. "I know, I'm being frivolous and neglecting my responsibilities, but I have been patrolling almost every night. Willow and I went last night, in fact, so spare me the lecture."

Giles scratched his left wrist. "No, I"m… I'm not going to do that. Sometimes it is necessary to take care of ourselves first… that's a lesson I'm learning too late in life. You… you should enjoy your time with Willow. It will only be a few weeks-"

"Time out again!" Buffy shook her head. "Jeez."

"Then let's fall back to familiar ground. Anything unusual surrounding your patrols?"

Buffy considered the question, her upper lip curled. "I don't know. Most of the vamps are obvious newbies or minor-leaguers, but I am seeing a few more that I actually have to take seriously."

"It could just be the natural tendency of the Hellmouth to draw the creatures," Giles said.

"That's kinda what I'm thinking," Buffy said, "but if you have any different ideas, please share. That's why you get the big bucks."

"I certainly will," Giles said as he opened the door. "And, Buffy?"

"Yeah?" She turned on the threshold.

"I meant what I said. Enjoy this time as much as you are able. We're all in a time of transition and it's important to keep our spirits up when facing the unknown."

Buffy shook her head. "Where were you for the last three years? That attitude sure would have improved my social life."

"Twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty." Allie Anderson's whistle blew loud and shrill. "Scissor kicks, twenty reps, let's go. La Jolla, keep those legs extended. C'mon, people, we're just getting started. You hit your twenty, do twenty V-ups. Keep it moving!"

Cordelia's lungs burned, but in her peripheral vision she could see that most of the others were struggling more. How about that for an unexpected bonus from those hours in the basement? Wainwright's proximity to the ocean kept the temperature manageable, but the California summer sun was still the California summer sun. The artificial turf was warm and prickly, and it tickled the back of her neck.

"Side to sides, ten each, go, go, go." Cordelia pinned her ankles together and swung them left, then right. "Leg lowers, finish with round-ups, ten each." Allie for sure got some kind of charge from yelling. Cordelia rolled forward, finished the ten round-ups, pulled herself to her feet, and looked around at the other campers. They all wore light-blue T-shirts with the Blue Wave logo and Cambridge blue (Dorian had been very specific) gym shorts. The T-shirts were dark with sweat, although Kelli Collins mostly just looked flushed and healthy.

"Everybody grab some water, then we're gonna split, guys with me, girls with Allie." Dorian made a circling motion above his head and turned toward the water station. As Cordelia passed him, he met her eye. "It's impressive to see someone come to camp in good condition," he said. "You killed the ab station."

"Thanks." Cordelia nodded as she picked up a cup of water. "My high school coach was a complete fitness Nazi."

"Looks like it's paying off," Dorian said.

"Hey, Last Minute, are we not working you hard enough?" Allie stepped in front of the brunette. "You don't even seem to be breathing hard."

Cordelia swallowed a mouthful of water. "I was telling Dorian that my coach-"

"All right, ladies," Allie yelled. "Form up on my left, two rows of four. We're gonna start with duck kicks." Cordelia took up a position on the far end of the front row and turned her attention to Allie. "I know that you all probably thought you were the shit in high school, but you're stepping up in class here. The keys to a good toe touch are speed and power. Squeeze your core and keep your hips under. That'll help you keep your chest up. Keep your arms high and snap that leg up and down. Whip it real good." She pointed at Maria. "West Covina, give me five toe touches each side, five, six, seven, eight." Maria's arms snapped out, fists just above shoulder height. Her right leg pumped five times, then her left leg. She finished with arms outstretched, then raised them above her head. "Are you trying to lead people in a singalong?" Allie stood in front of the smaller girl. "It was, like, follow the bouncing ball. And keep your chest high." She pivoted. "Rancho Cucamonga, five, six, seven, eight." Amber completed the drill. "Get your legs up," Allie snapped. "It's a toe touch, not a toe get-close. Oregon, five,six, seven, eight."

Juniper Taliferro snapped off ten reps and dropped her hands to her side, standing ramrod straight. Allie prowled around her. "Keep your fists tight. Nobody wants to see your fingers flapping around." Allie turned. "Last Minute, five, six, seven, eight."

Cordelia tried to blank her mind and simply react. She finished the ten reps and ended, hands at sides. Allie leaned in close, face only inches from Cordelia's. "Nobody wants to see a robot, Last Minute. A little personality's nice. Michigan, five, six, seven, eight." Cordelia took deep breaths, legs shaking, as Kelli Collins fell under Allie's critical eye. "You may have gotten through high school by looking like Barbie's hot cousin, but you need to pay attention to what you're doing here."

"Last Minute, five, six, seven, eight." At the last second, Cordelia realized she was on the spot. She gulped and did the ten. "Stay on your toes, Last Minute. La Jolla, five, six, seven, eight." Tamarra fell under the co-captain's scrutiny. "Tighten your abs and keep your back straight. Nobody wants to see Quasimodo cheering. Oregon, five, six, seven, eight." Juniper threw her arms out.

Cordelia gave a small self-nod. Two rounds, then– "Last Minute, five, six, seven, eight." Her feet scuffed on a couple of the returns; her calves and thighs quivered when she finished. "Oregon, five, six, seven, eight." Cordelia glanced over her shoulder. Sweat flew from Juniper's face as she did the reps. She finished and took a small, staggering half-step. "Too tough, Oregon? Last Minute gonna show you up?" Juniper's eyes cut toward Cordelia and flared. "Last Minute, let's go. Five, six, seven, eight." When she finished, Cordelia bent over, coughing. "That all you got, Last Minute? You done?" Cordelia looked up at the blond girl, then straightened.

"I'm ready," she said, her voice raspy. She lied; her ass was on fire and her legs felt like rubber. Allie leaned in, a mean smile on her face.

"Oregon," she yelled, "five, six, seven, eight." As she stepped out of Cordelia's line of sight, the brunette looked over her shoulder. Knots of muscle stood out at the corner of Juniper's jaw as she did the exercise. She wobbled as she finished, blinking sweat out of her eyes, chest heaving.

"Hey, cap'n." Dorian waved at Allie. "If we're practicing lifts this afternoon, we don't want anybody with shot legs. Let's move on, okay?"

Allie looked at him and ran her tongue around her teeth, then snapped, "Water!" Cordelia walked slowly toward the station, because if she had walked at a normal pace she would have pitched over on her face. Dorian waved her over and did the same for Juniper.

"You two," he said, "get plenty of water. Be sure you stretch at lunch, and, if you need it, get some ice on your glutes." His face was grave. "Don't need anyone tearing anything on the first day of camp." He winked. "Great job, by the way, both of you." Cordelia looked at Juniper, but she was too tired and her mouth was too dry to say anything, and the situation was apparently mutual.

"Gentlemen, I am offering you a solution to a very real problem. You have a power vacuum in your city government at a time when your community needs a great deal of leadership. Public buildings need to be rebuilt, public institutions need trust restored, the citizens of Sunnydale need to be reassured that steady hands are at the wheel, and what do you have? Nothing. You have an empty mayoral office, or you would have if much of it hadn't been destroyed by whatever happened at City Hall last month."

"But Sunnydale has always had a mayor and council form of government."

"Yes, you have, and that's part of your problem. I've done a little research regarding your fair community, and the mayor of Sunnydale has always, always, been a member of the Wilkins family. That's well over one hundred years of one family being in charge, and, gentlemen, inbreeding isn't any prettier in politics than it is in genetics. You can see the results of this right now… a need for leadership, and no one able to fulfill it, because it's always been the Wilkins family, and now, now they're gone. Do you have plans to hold a mayoral election? Candidates for office? Any sort of transition plan?"

"We've never–"

"Those words will be on your headstone, sir. 'We've never'... Well, you're going to have to now. It's been over a month. Every week that you wait, every day that you wait is twenty-four hours for the citizens of Sunnydale to believe that their community is rudderless, that no one has a vision or a plan. I understand that this was all unexpected and shocking, but, gentlemen, you have to shake that off and move forward."

"So, what are you suggesting?"

"I'm not suggesting, I'm offering. Sunnydale has no town charter dictating its type of government, so if you want to continue with a mayor/council form, that's fine, but it's going to take you months to find candidates, run a campaign, hold an election. What my firm offers is the breathing room to do that. It's as simple as one, two, three. Sunnydale, in the persons of this city council, will contract with my firm to provide a city manager for a specified period of time. For the duration of that contract, this council will provide advice and consent for that manager. At the time of the contract's expiration, you can hold an election and go right back to the way things were, smooth as you please. So, gentlemen, what's your decision?"

"Why does this seem less fun today?" Buffy sat on her Powerpuff Girls beach towel, arms clasped loosely around her knees. The pool was packed; there was apparently a birthday party going on at the kiddie area. Through a moving screen of legs, the Slayer caught glimpses of splashing toddlers.

Willow levered herself up on her elbows. "Do we miss mocking Cordelia?"

Buffy shrugged and squinted behind her sunglasses. "Maybe. Man, remember when something like that seemed like fun?" She nodded at the toddlers gleefully splashing in the wading pool as a couple of moms set out cake and presents on the picnic table. "What were we thinking?"

"We were three," Willow said. "Anyway, I was more like that one." She pointed at one child who sat on the steps leading into the pool.

"Maybe." Buffy shook her head. "All I can think of is buttercream frosting and bleach. Not an attractive combo." She looked up as a shadow fell across them. She vaguely recognized the guy standing there, not enough to remember his name or anything, but she recalled him from some class… Bio I, maybe?

"Hey," he said. "You guys party?"

Buffy closed one eye against the glare. "Occasionally."

The answer seemed to baffle him for a moment, but he recovered. "Well, there's a big party out at the Cove tonight, if you wanna come."

Buffy and Willow exchanged looks. "We already have plans for tonight," the Slayer said.

"Big plans," Willow said, "but thanks for asking."

He nodded and winked. "Well, if you change your minds, it's gonna start around ten-thirty. It's gonna be a banger." He gave them a finger-gun and walked away. Buffy turned to Willow.

'Gonna be a banger' she mouthed.

Willow sat up. "I think we've fulfilled our minimum daily requirement of loafing. Wanna go?"

Buffy thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, it's really not the same without Cordy to throw spitballs at." She stood up and brushed off her butt, then picked up her towel and slung it over her shoulder. As she and Willow walked past the snack bar, Matti Hollis stuck her head out of the office door.

"You guys keeping busy?" she asked.

Willow's mouth bent in a quirky smile. "Every day is a wonderland."

"Big plans for the rest of the afternoon?"

"Let's see." Buffy mimed opening a planner and running her finger down the page. "Oh, yes, today… pool and movie night."

"Nice." Matti smiled. "Know what you're gonna watch?"

"The Faculty," Willow said.

"Oh, that's pretty good."

"You've seen it?" Willow said.

Matti nodded. "Oh, yeah." She held up a finger as two middle-school boys came to the window facing the pool. "One minute." She took their order, then mixed two suicides from the fountain. The boys took their cups and walked away, slurping down half the soda at the first drink. Matti shook her head. "There's a difference between a child and an adult. Nobody with any taste buds orders that nastiness."

"Yeah," Buffy said. "I remember when I realized that you really couldn't taste anything. It was all just slick, sweet, and fizzy."

"The Faculty?" Willow prompted.

Matti crossed her legs at the ankle and leaned against the register. The shiny line of her scar stretched as she folded her arms. "It's grade-A cheese. Highly recommended." She winked.

"Nice." Willow smiled.

"Tell you what, if you want to save yourself three dollars, why don't you just come watch it at my house?"

Buffy cocked an eyebrow. "Movie night at your house? Why?"

Matti shrugged. "No reason, I've just already got the movie."

Buffy nodded, then wagged a finger. "That was good. It would have fooled most people."

"What are you talking about?" Matti glared.

"Oh, the set-up was perfect… 'I've already got the DVD, save the rental fee'... very believable."

Matti waved a dismissive hand. "Get out."

"But the shrug… that was one step too far. You overplayed it. A little too smooth, a little too casual." Buffy put her palms on the counter and leaned forward. "Why did you offer to host movie night?" They locked eyes, and Buffy was reminded of the size differential between them; Matti appeared to be looking down from a mountain. FInally, Matti's lips pushed out in a disgusted moue and her eyes rolled.

"Okay, busted." She glanced toward the pool. "It's way too quiet at the house, and I'm going a little stir-crazy. It just popped into my head that it might be fun if you knuckleheads came over."

"Well…" Buffy drug one finger across the counter's surface. "We can't really watch a movie like The Faculty at Will's house."

"My mom has concerns," Willow elaborated, "about the effect of popular culture on developing minds. Concerns that she shares, frequently."

"Yes." Matti was completely deadpan. "I can see that you're one step away from becoming a serial killer."

"My mom, on the other hand, won't object to the subject matter, but she will ask a million questions… she still expects movies like this to make sense. The beauty of plot holes and ambiguous character motivation is lost on her."

Matti rubbed her forehead. "I'm starting to regret mentioning it."

Buffy continued to concentrate on her finger-tracing on the Formica counter. "Now, a solution presents itself which is mutually beneficial to both parties–"

"Why are you acting like this is a scene from The Godfather?" Matti demanded.

Buffy looked up and grinned. "'Cause it's fun." She looked at Willow. "You in?"

The redhead nodded. "Sure."

"Okay." The Slayer turned back to Matti. "What time?"

Matti shook her head. "I've got to close down here, so let's say… seven-thirty."

Buffy licked her lips. "You spring for the pizza?"

Matti's eyes narrowed. "I'll go halfsies if you pick it up."

"Sold American." Buffy slapped her towel on the counter. "See you at seven-thirty."

Giles locked the Citroen's door and put the keys in his pocket. Robert had requested that they meet for dinner at a small Cantonese restaurant near the UC-Sunnydale campus. The space was warm, splashed with tones of red and gold. A hostess approached as he entered. "Come with me," she said.

"I, I'm supposed to–"

"He's already here. This way."

The librarian blinked and followed her to a booth tucked away along the right-hand wall. Robert was already seated with an order of steamed dumplings in front of him. "Rupert," he said, "please, sit. I took the liberty of ordering our appetizer, and these have just arrived. Please."

Giles slid into the booth. "It's good to hear from you. I was beginning to fear that the concert over the weekend had left you deaf."

Robert shook his head as he chewed. "No, nothing like that. In fact, I enjoyed it quite a bit. It was not to my taste, but it was very interesting to observe the local culture."

Giles scoffed. "If you can call it that." He scanned the menu as the server brought a glass of water. "Please, order," he said to Robert. "I need a minute."

"I will have the twice-cooked pork," Robert said, handing his menu to the server. She turned to Giles.

"I believe that I will have the orange-peel chicken," the librarian said.

"Very good," the server said, tucking their menus under her arm. "I'll get those started."

As the server left, Robert held up his hands. "First, Rupert, I must apologize to you. I opposed Kirkland, true, but I did not realize the difficulty of your situation here. Merriweather was correct. You have done a phenomenal job."

"What?" Giles said as he unwrapped his silverware.

"This… society, this atmosphere… I do not understand how you navigate it. I realize that these are exceptional young people, but they are a mystery to me. Everything about them, from the way they talk to the way they relate to one another, is baffling."

"It… it helps if you assume that they actually mean the opposite of what they are saying."

"That is what I mean. For you to be able to train and guide a Slayer while negotiating this… din, it is remarkable." Robert slashed through the air with one hand. "It has always been difficult to be the Watcher tasked with training a Slayer, but compare the distractions you face to someone charged with the job in, say, Victorian England…" He shook his head.

"Well, I…"

"The last few months have been very confusing. The intrigue at the Council, Kirkland's dealings… After I left the manor, after Merriweather destroyed it, I was at a loss. I have spent a fair amount of that time contacting surviving members."

"I didn't know," Giles said. "What did they…?"

"How could you know? You were engaged in something much more immediate, but many of them still believe in the mission of the Council. They are, and I am sure you understand this, very mistrustful… and isolated." Robert took a sip of wine. "I was very unsure of how to proceed, but spending these days here in Sunnydale, watching you interact with Buffy and her friends, has made my way forward clear."

"It… it has?"

"I must go," Woo said.

Giles shook his head. "Back to Hong Kong?"

Woo shook his head. "No." The discussion was interrupted as their food arrived.

Giles squinted. "Do you intend to reconstitute the Council?"

Robert touched his folded hands to his upper lip. "That might be the wisest course, but… reforming the Council will take time, and the skills of someone that the others will listen to, someone respected. That is not me."

Giles clutched at his napkin. "Robert, your reputation is–"

"Was, Rupert. There is no longer any Council where my reputation matters. And when the Council did exist, I was… regarded, rather than respected. I am not a convivial person." He cleared his throat. "No, there is another task that requires immediate attention, and I have decided to pursue it."

"What…" Giles held up an index finger and hesitated. "To what are you referring?"

Robert's face was very grave. "There is a Slayer at large in the world, with no direction, no support, no Watcher. That is not right, so… I intend to find Faith."

"Wh– Excuse me?" The librarian blinked and leaned forward.

"Rupert, the Council did so much wrong to that young woman, and now, she is alone and feels isolated and abandoned. That is Buffy's conclusion, and I respect it. To subject her to what she has gone through, and then forsake her… That is simple desertion." Robert folded his arms across his chest. "This is the only right thing to do."

"But, Robert, the ritual–"

"The ceremony was tainted, we know that, but, based on your testimony, and Buffy's, and her friends', Faith obviously was called. The abilities manifested themselves, did they not?"

"Yes, yes, they did." Giles leaned his head on his hand and rubbed his forehead. "But the Council–"

"Rupert, there is no council." Robert shook his head. "There is no organization to provide guidance or support, but there are Watchers, and I am one of them, whether there is a Council or not." He looked at Giles and his eyes were like black iron. "I… We… owe this to that young woman."

Giles coughed. "Do you have any idea what you are doing, or what you will do if you find her?"

"None. None whatsoever, but I can learn, not as quickly as I could when I was young, but still. And before you ask, yes, I heard what Buffy said. I know that this will be hard and difficult, but honor demands it." Robert breathed heavily. "The Council is gone, but I am now more determined than ever to be a Watcher."

Giles looked across the table at the other man. "You've already made up your mind, haven't you?"

"Yes." Robert looked up as the server brought the check. "Thank you. Yes, I have rented a car, and I will be checking out of the hotel tomorrow."

Giles swallowed. "That soon?"

"Rupert, even if our lore was wrong, there is a young woman with tremendous powers and no knowledge of how to control and channel them. If our traditions and history are correct, and I still believe they are, then the true and actual Slayer wanders the world without a Watcher, and that cannot be."

Giles stared across the table, thinking of all the different reasons why this was a bad idea, of how unsuited Robert Woo seemed to be for the task, but Robert sat perfectly still, his very immobility radiating the firmness of his decision. Finally, the librarian stretched his hand across the table. "Good luck."

Robert clasped the offered hand. "I hope we see each other again."