Part XIX

Buffy and Dawn were waiting for Xander and Faith at the arrivals gate of the Cleveland airport. Xander ran to gather them both into his arms for a huge hug, which they returned with enough strength to threaten cracking some ribs. “God, it’s been way too long!”

“It has,” said Buffy, as she released him. She turned her attention to Faith. She got a hug too, but not nearly as strong as the one she’d given Xander. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good, B. How about you guys?”

“We’ve been alright. Getting better, now that we’re getting the gang back together. Giles is already here, and Willow and Kennedy are due in tomorrow.”

“We’re doing the whole big reunion party thing on the weekend,” said Dawn.

“So, how did you like Rome?” asked Faith. “Did you get yourself some nice Italian stud?” Xander saw Dawn blush. “Oh, you did! Come on, you can tell me all about him while we go get our bags!” They went off toward the baggage carousel together, leaving Buffy with Xander.

“So, what happened in L.A.?” asked Buffy. “Your emails were notably lacking with the details. How bad was it, really?”

“It was bad.” Xander looked around to make sure that there was no one close enough to overhear him. “Wesley was dead before we got there,” he said quietly. “Gunn was wounded badly; he’d lost a lot of blood before we arrived. We got him to a hospital; he’s still in critical condition.”

“What about our girls?” asked Buffy.

“No serious injuries. Rona managed to break her arm again.”

“And Angel’s okay?”

“Nothing he couldn’t heal from. He didn’t want to fly, so he’s driving here…should arrive in a couple of days, if he doesn’t chicken out.”

“Why would he chicken out?”

“He wasn’t really forthcoming, but I’m pretty sure that the whole mess was his fault.”

“Xander—”

“No. This isn’t me blaming Angel because I don’t like Angel. And I don’t think it’s Angel taking the blame because he likes to brood and take the blame for everything, even more than you do. I didn’t get the whole story from him, but the bits I did get… He really managed to screw things up, and not just with Wolfram and Hart, and Black Thorn. Spike…”

“What’s Spike got to do with this?” asked Buffy. “He’s been dead for nearly a year. You can’t go blaming him for this.”

“That’s the thing. Apparently he hasn’t been dead for nearly a year.”

“What?”

“He turned up in L.A. a couple of weeks after Sunnydale was destroyed,” said Xander. “He’s been hanging out with Angel ever since.”

“He’s alive?”

“No.” Xander shook his head. “I’m sorry Buff, but he didn’t make it. He was killed protecting Gunn, after he went down.”

Xander watched the emotions play across Buffy’s face. Grief, anger, puzzlement… “How could he not have told us?”

“I don’t know, but Andrew knew about it.”

“He did! I’m gonna strangle that little…”

Faith and Dawn were back. Dawn was carrying Xander’s suitcase, and Faith had her own, plus their weapons bag. “You’ve told her?” asked Faith.

“I’ve hit most of the main points,” said Xander.

“Did you get to the Smurfette?” asked Faith.

“What are you talking about?” asked Dawn.

Buffy climbed up onto the elevated platform that had been set up at one end of their gymnasium. There was something beside her, more than twice as tall as she was, that was covered by a deep blue sheet. She tapped the cordless microphone she was holding a couple of times. “Is this thing working?”

“Yes!” called out half a dozen of the people in the room.

“Alright, well, it’s been a year now since the destruction of Sunnydale, and it’s been a year since most of you have had to listen to me make a speech.”

“Can we make it two years?” called someone, whom Buffy couldn’t identify for sure, but she thought that it sounded like Dawn.

“I promise, that this one’s going to be short. I don’t really have a whole lot to say.” Buffy looked out across the gym. Nearly everyone who had survived Sunnydale was here, as well as several of the new Slayers, and Watchers that they’d recruited. “It’s good to see that everyone could make it. It’s been a big year for us, finding all the new Slayers, and rebuilding the Watchers. I wanted to thank all of you for your hard work. We’ve made a good start, but there’s still a lot of work to do, but today, it’s time to take a look back to commemorate our losses.

“It was a year ago today that Willow cast her spell to create all the Slayers, and a year ago today we went into battle against the First. We won, but it wasn’t without a cost.

“The National Park Service is going to be creating a Sunnydale National Monument, around the crater. They’re still arguing about what they think happened there, but we do have some friends in high places, who know the truth. They know what we did, and they know what it cost, and we’ve arranged for there to be a memorial…not just to the people who died that day, but to all of the Slayers, and those who have fought at our sides.”

Buffy reached out and grabbed the rope that was dangling beside her. She tugged it, pulling away the sheet that had been covering the twelve foot tall monolith on the platform with her.

“They saved the world, a lot,” she said, repeating the words carved at the top of the obelisk. “There are countless names that should be up here: Kendra, Jenny, Tara, Nikki, and thousands of Slayers back through history whose names have been forgotten, but we had to pick a place to start, and we picked the battle against the First, one year ago, and placed the names of those who fell upon this stone: Amanda, Anya, Cathy, Delores, Heidi, Neela, Oksana, Quanshae, Silvia, Valerie, and William.

“Some friends of ours have fallen in the last year, and their names are here too: Cordelia, Fred, Wesley…there was some debate over whether or not to put Spike up a second time, but Xander said that if we were going to do that, he wanted my name up there twice already too.” A slight ripple of nervous laughter went through her audience.

“There’s still a lot of blank space on this stone, and, eventually—not too quickly, I hope—all our names will be added to it. We expect that it will take a thousand years to fill it. What happens then…well that will be up to our descendants. I’m still getting used to the idea of thinking more than a few weeks ahead. I think I can leave planning for the fourth millennium up to someone else.

“For the next year or so, this monument is going to be staying here, in our Akron campus. But we’re going to be moving it to Sunnydale, once they’ve got the National Monument there ready to open to the public. I hope that we won’t have added any new names to it, before then.”

Buffy raised the glass of champagne that was in her hand. “Right now, I’m here to propose a toast: To our departed friends!”

“To our departed friends!” came back the response from nearly a hundred voices.

Buffy took a sip from her glass. “Alright, well, enough of the morbid stuff. Anya would kick our asses if we spent too much time moping about her. This is supposed to be a party! So let’s party!”

Buffy looked around the room at her friends. Everyone here was a survivor of Sunnydale. Dawn, Giles, Willow and Xander had been with her from the beginning. Faith and Kennedy had been picked up along the way. They had all had a bit too much to drink tonight, as they remembered the ones who hadn’t survived.

“So, what next?” asked Xander.

“I’ve promised to show Dawn the world, so we’re heading out next week,” said Buffy. “Asia needs a lot of work. Caridad and Chao Ahn have made a good start there, but there’s still a lot to be done.”

“Mao’s ‘Cultural Revolution’ managed to kill nearly all of the Watchers in China,” said Giles. “The oldest Watcher tradition in the history of the world was brushed away in a fit of ideology. It is somewhat ironic that as a result, the First only managed to identify a few of the Potentials living there. Half of the new Slayers are Chinese, but we have only managed to contact a few of the new Slayers living in that region. Operating in China is still difficult.”

“So they’re going to get a couple of American tourists,” said Dawn. “Determined to see the ‘Real China.’ Go all the places that regular tourists don’t see.”

“And the Chinese government is just going to allow this?” asked Xander.

“Riley’s arranged for a National Geographic photographer to come along with us,” said Buffy. “We’ll do a story: ‘Backpacking Around China’ or something like that. Nothing that the Chinese can object to.”

“You’re going to be appearing in National Geographic?” asked Xander.

“We’ll try to keep the pictures to be of the scenery,” said Dawn.

The taxi dropped them at the iron gates to WCI’s Akron campus. Jack paid the driver, after they had gotten their bags out of the trunk, and Cassie had pressed the button on the intercom to announce their arrival. The gates swung open as the driver got back into the cab, and drove away.

Jack picked up two of the bags—only one of which was his—while Cassie grabbed the third, lightest one. “You’re supposed to be the super-strong one here,” he grumbled as they set out through the long, early evening shadows up the driveway toward the WCI building.

“Yes, but I’m undercover,” said Cassie. “You have to pretend to be a gentleman.”

“I am a gentleman!” said Jack. “Congress said so!”

“You’re not an officer anymore, Jack.”

“I’ve got an honourable discharge. It’s so classified that almost no one outside the President and the Joint Chiefs can see it, but it still leaves me a gentleman.”

“If you say so.”

“You’re going to argue with Congress, the President, and the Joint Chiefs?”

“I’m still Canadian, Jack. Until Parliament rules on it, I’m taking it under advisement.”

They had reached the entrance to the main WCI building, and Cassie conceded to hold the door open for Jack, since she was the one who had a hand free. She followed him through the door into the lobby.

“Wow! Nice place!” said Jack.

Cassie looked around. “Yeah, it cleaned up real nice!” The scaffolding and plaster dust from a year ago was gone. In its place was a lot of golden yellow marble. The floor and the walls were covered with it. In the centre of the lobby was a reception desk that seemed to have been carved from a solid block of it. Behind the desk was a smiling girl.

“Hi! You must be Cassie and Jack! I’m Mandy! Sorry you had to take a taxi, but everyone got caught up in a minor emergency.”

“What sort of emergency?” asked Jack.

“Oh, nothing to worry about,” said Mandy. “Just some L.A. transplants trying to set up shop near the new Hellmouth. We thought that we would show them the error of their ways with a show of excessive force. We couldn’t spare anyone to come pick you up. Just a sec.” She picked up the phone on the desk, and dialled an extension number. “Andrew, get down here. They’re here.” She smiled at them. “Andrew will be here in a couple of minutes to show you to your rooms. In the meantime…” She opened a drawer and pulled out a couple of plastic cards. “…these are your ID cards. Don’t lose them. You need them to open the doors to your rooms, and any of the other restricted areas that you’re allowed in.”

“Where aren’t we allowed?” asked Jack.

“The restricted section of the library, the armoury, private quarters, stuff like that,” said Mandy. She pulled a box out of the drawer that had an assortment of chains, and clips and things. “Here, you can take one of these to hold your card. Don’t lose it.”

Jack and Cassie both picked out badge reels that they could clip to their belts. They had both just finished attaching their cards, when they heard the chime of an elevator arriving, and the doors behind the reception desk slid open.

Mandy glanced back to see who had arrived. A young man, about twenty years old, with blond hair, was stepping out of the elevator. “Hi Andrew! Cassie and Jack are here.” She turned back. “This is Andrew Wells. He’s in charge of the housing arrangements.”

“Hi Andrew!” said Cassie.

Andrew held up his hand in a Vulcan salute. “Greetings Slayer! Live long and prosper!”

“Uh, right,” said Cassie.

Jack looked at Mandy, and saw her shrug. “Just go with it; you get used to him after a while,” she stage whispered to him.

Jack saw Andrew frown at her.

“Andrew’s in charge of housing,” said Mandy, in a normal voice. “He’ll show you to your rooms, and then give you the nickel tour of the place.”

The residential section took up one wing of the building. Two floors were set aside for the Slayers, divided up into four bedroom suites. The bedrooms were small, but comfortable. They each had a window that looked out over the WCI grounds, and a single bed, and a desk. Each suite had a shared common room, kitchenette, and bathroom. The suite that Cassie was placed in only had one other girl staying in it, at the moment. They didn’t get to meet her, since she was out with one of the teams doing the sweep around the Hellmouth.

Jack was put on a different floor. This one had a greater variety of accommodations on it, much of it taken up by the permanent residents. Principal Wood had a private apartment on this floor, and another suite belonged to Faith and Xander. There were other, two bedroom suites that were occupied by some of the more senior Slayers, or held available to accommodate visitors from around the world. Jack also learned that all the single guys were housed on this floor. He found that he would be sharing a suite with Andrew and another guy, similar to the ones set up for the Slayers on the lower floors.

Jack’s new roommate, Tim Hall, was very happy to meet him. Even more so when he learned that Jack had only seen the Star Wars movies once, the only Star Trek he’d seen much of was the original series, and that he’d rather watch sports on TV than anything else (with the exception of The Simpsons.) “Thank God!” he said. “I was afraid I’d be stuck with no one but Andrew to talk with all summer!”

Jack gave Tim an uncertain smile. He wasn’t sure what to make of him, or of the attitude that he had seen exhibited toward Andrew. Okay, Andrew came across as a complete geek—actually ‘geek’ was much too mild a term—but the open mocking of him that Jack had seen so far couldn’t be good for morale. The little exposure that he’d had to Andrew so far reminded Jack of the worst aspects of Rodney McKay and Jay Felger rolled together into one person. But McKay and Felger did have their moments of brilliance which made up for the more irritating aspects of their personalities. Jack could only hope that there was something similarly worthwhile buried deep inside Andrew. Jack was determined to give him a fair shake.

Andrew took them for a quick tour of the rest of the facility after Jack and Cassie had dumped their bags in their rooms. He showed them the cafeteria, where meals were served four times a day. Breakfast, lunch and dinner were provided by an outside catering company, with a do-it-yourself buffet at midnight. Since the catering company wasn’t in on the whole “vampires and demons are real” part of the story, Andrew told them that discussion of such things in the cafeteria was frowned upon—that and discussions of demon slime weren’t the best sort of mealtime conversation. There was a large laundry room where everyone could take care of their own clothes washing, and Andrew assured them that there were lots of experts available on the topic of how to best remove various sorts of demon ichor from delicate fabrics.

Jack met with Robin Wood in his office early the next morning. “Early” being a relative term: their meeting was at ten o’clock. One thing that Jack had learned was that there was almost nothing scheduled for non-Slayers before noon. This was because it wasn’t uncommon for people to be awake all night. Slayers might be able to get by on less than four hours of sleep, but everyone else needed more.

It was quickly apparent to Jack why everyone called him “Principal Wood.” It was more than the simple fact that the Akron campus was being set up as the primary Slayer training facility. Wood carried an air of authority about him that in a strange way reminded him of General Hammond. Maybe it was the bald head. He couldn’t think of anything else that the pair had in common. Wood was taller, slimmer, and half of General Hammond’s age, but he carried himself with the same aura of calm authority.

Jack sat in a chair on the opposite side of the desk from Wood, trying not to feel like an errant boy summoned to the Principal’s office. He had to remind himself that he was at least fifteen years older than the man on the other side of the desk.

“I’d like to welcome you here to Akron, Mr. O’Neill.”

“I’m glad to be here, Mr. Wood,” said Jack.

Wood looked over the papers on his desk. “Faith has given you a very positive recommendation, but Faith has some blind spots. There is one thing that I want to make very clear to you.”

“What’s that, Sir?” asked Jack.

“You are a teenage boy, and we have a large number of teenage girls living in this establishment.”

“Ya know, I think that occurred to Faith.”

Wood’s lips quirked into a smile. “Yes, it would. Let’s say that we have different priorities. There is one thing that I want to make very clear: while the age of consent in Ohio might be sixteen, as far as we’re concerned it’s eighteen.”

Jack nodded. “Yes, Sir. I understand, and I assure you, I’m not—”

“Mr. O’Neill, that is all that we are going to say on that topic,” said Wood. “Now, about your class schedule, we thought that we’d start with Basic Demonology, followed by Introduction to Magic…”