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What sound does a heart breaking make?	By : chilli Category: AtS/BtVS Crossovers > Slash - Male/Male > Angel(us)/Xander > Angel(us)/Xander Views: 24007 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy, Angel or Blade. I make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series
TITLE: What sound does a heart breaking make?
AUTHOR: Willie J
EMAIL: wmj166@yahoo.com
ARCHIVE SITE(S): http://parrot.nearheralways.com/index.php; http://www.brain-insane.com/beyondcanon; http://www.adult-fanfiction.org
PAIRINGS: A/X
RATING: R
WORDCOUNT:
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any part of Buffy et all, nor Angel the Series.
FEEDBACK: Oh please send me feedback, privately or through the list
DISTRIBUTION: List Archives
SPOILERS:
BETA'D BY:
SUMMARY:
A/N: Those of Buffyverse are naturally Joss' creations, however, any and all other characters mentioned are my own.
Chapter 7
The following morning, Rejar sat in his study, gazing at his silent, morose lieutenants. They all read the report and he was unsurprised at their extreme reluctance to act on the report findings. He, rather they, had grown increasingly fond of young Angel's protégés, especially the Twin Terrors, as Xander and Cordy were affectionately known. The young female with her caustic bon wits and astringent nature. It was all carefully designed to protect her soft inner self. He found her motto very amusing…‘Do on to others, before they get a chance to do you’.
And the boy. He was a mixture of tarty, sweet innocence that concealed a courageous spirit. All three of the young humans were not afraid to speak their minds. And it was a refreshing change from the usual kowtowing from the much younger members of the House.
He had watched the clean lines of Xander developing. He thoroughly approved at how well the boy had shaped up in just a few months. All three of the human children had unexpected depths. And it only took a very patient mind to bring their best qualities to the surface.
Cordelia with her sharply focused mind. Once locked onto a target she was single-minded and relentless in achieving her objective. Be it an opponent or, and his lips quirked upwards, the latest in designer wear. And he possessively stroked the lapels of his new suit.
That child was a marvel at ferreting out secrets and brokering deals. Were it not for the Protector's adamant dictates, he would gladly Sire the child and keep her at his side until she matured. Cordelia Chase would make another worthy heir to the House of Aureli.
Were it not for the Protector, he would gladly Turn all four of the humans. With Xander and Faith providing security and Wesley providing the knowledge, Cordelia would raise House Aureli to new levels of being. It was regrettable that Angel was fixated on Xander or otherwise he would have tried to mate Cordelia and Angel to rule over the line of Aureli. With Faith, Xander and Wesley at their sides, the House of Aureli would reach a golden age unparalleled to the vampiric nation.
As for Xander, the boy had became a most formidable adversary in the mock battles Pascal insisted upon conducting. Hidden behind that disarming smile, lurked an inventive and cunning mind. Many of the younger vampires learned the price of underestimating him. With his growing assortment of defensive skills, had any of Pascal’s staged attacks been real, the House would be less five Master vampires.
The Slayer and her Watcher. Separately the pair were dangerous. However, combined they were twice as dangerous. When they first arrived, he sensed some initial hesitation between the two, but now working together…and his smile widened slightly, they were deadly.
Faith, with her deceivingly lush body. A body that hid a warrior's instincts and abilities. 15 vampires had already learned the cost of believing only what they saw. And Wesley, the young Watcher. Always thinking, always planning. He was like an ocean, smooth, calm and disturbingly neutral…but underneath lurked the strong, dangerous undertows. And if a body was not careful, it was extraordinarily easy to be fooled by his seemingly, bland exterior. A Watcher of his caliber had not been seen for over a hundred years. A Watcher capable of ‘watching’ as well as slaying.
Wesley, Xander and Cordy had shaped up to be deadly fighters, while Faith on the other hand had simply needed to learn how to think instead of allowing herself to react, to focus and plan. She needed to learn how to rechannel her energies into other avenues instead of channeling her energies inwards and becoming self-destructive.
Separately, all four humans were dangerous, but united…they were deadly. And backed by the power of the Protector…they were a force of nature.
Unstoppable.
Destructive.
MaryAlice firmed her lips and blinked rapidly. No more of her and Cordy making fun of the fashion disaster movie stars. Nobody would understand clothing like Cordy and Faith did. Who was she going to go shopping with? There would be no one to make catty comments about the salespeople and those stupid women pouring their big asses into too small clothes. Telephones weren't the same.
Kyle sighed softly, his lips turned down in a mute look of sorrow. He had already figured out why Rejar forced him to deal with the humans. He was over 1,524 years old yet he still underestimated what humans were capable of. Rejar wanted to teach him a lesson…a lesson of caution and knowledge.
So he watched. And he understood. He relearned how the humans thought, how they reacted, how they fought. Because as long as vampires walked the earth, humans would be their adversaries...and some would become their allies, reluctant or otherwise. While there could be friendship between the two, it required an effort on the part of the vampires to look beyond the blood that sang to them. It required them to see humans as ‘non-food’.
He exchanged a look with Pascal, seeing similar emotion in his friend’s gaze. They would both regret seeing the young ones leave. Kyle would miss them, he would even miss Cordy’s cheerful insults. By now he recognized them for what they were, her version of saying that she cared. He would truly miss Wesley. The long talks about demons, theology and other esoteric ideas…all gone. He would miss that look of delight in the young man's eyes and the joy that lit the blue eyes.
Pascal looked away from Rejar’s probing eyes and his mouth tightened. He had already argued that his ‘children’ weren’t ready. And he knew his protests were just lies. Despite himself he grew fond of them, especially Faith. Her seemingly laid back approach to life was strangely refreshing. And Xander…who was gonna watch Star Trek with him and explain to him why Spock did whatever the hell he did when the boy was gone? Who was gonna debate with him the mysteries of Star Wars and help him grow his comic book collection?
Rejar tossed the report on his desk and steepled his fingers. And a quiet silence settled in the room and upon it’s inhabitants. He met Kyle and Pascal’s eyes in turn, seeing a look of solemn regret in their ageless eyes. It was time for Xander and the others to go home.
Whistler eyed the silent group of people narrowly. If he didn’t know better he would think somebody had died. And a tiny smirk made it’s way to his lips as his eyes rested on Angel.
Angelus. One of the four Scourges of Europe. Sitting here. Right across from him, in fact. A remorseless killer. Sitting right at the table with him, offering him coffee…
“No, I’m good, thanks.” He put his hand over his cup and took another appreciative sip. And damn good coffee, too. Whistler watched as they all picked at their food, the vampire was barely drinking his breakfast. They all had glum expressions like their daddy just told them their puppy was dead.
Whistler looked up gratefully when Blade was announced. At least when the vampire hunter didn’t say anything, he knew the reason why.
Blade’s face barely shift from his usual stoic expression, but inward he was surprised. Usually when vampires saw him, they reacted in one of two ways: running away screaming or trying to fight. He always killed them anyway, but still he wasn’t quite used to them calmly strolling around, sipping coffee…his eyes narrowed…and reading the funnies.
He glanced at Whistler, long association having taught the older man the subtle clues in Blade's non-expression. And Whistler shrugged helplessly, he too was at a loss about these particular bunch of vampires.
The day walker’s hands flowed smoothly to his weapons when a servant quietly entered and informed them that Rejar was waiting for them in the study. He blinked slowly at the resigned looks that appeared on the others as they silently rose to their feet and filed past him.
Rejar looked up at the knock on the door. And with a quiet sigh that was almost echoed by the others, he called for them to come in. He could tell by the tightness around their eyes…they already knew it was time.
So he began without preamble. “Obviously you all know what I’ve called you here for.” He met their eyes, one by one and allowed his approval to show. He ignored the puzzled look on the daywalker and the old human. This was about his family.
“Cordy. Fierce, proud and tenacious. With your tongue alone, you would be able to defeat your enemies. Were it not for the Protector’s dictates, I would gladly Turn you and groom you as the Heir to the House of Aureli. You would have made such a beautiful dark Childe.” His voice was wistful as he gazed at her.
Cordy cleared her throat. “I don’t know whether to be grateful or run away screaming.” And tears swam in her eyes before she regained control. She leaned against Angel in sorrow.
“And now we come to you. Whistler, I do not know if you’ve heard the rumors that G’neash and Zynaesh demons will soon be invading this dimension.”
Whistler nodded uncertainly, flickering a glance at the solemn people around the room. “Well, yeah…but not too much considering that I ain’t no demon or vamp, ya know. I’ve heard about ‘em. Hell, who ain’t heard of ‘em. But that’s just all it is…rumor. Uhm…right?”
“No, the rumors are entirely correct in this instance.” Rejar stated calmly, his eyes still and watchful of the old human male.
“Oh shit…” the old man said quietly, his blue eyes held a stunned look. Blade looked at him, uncertainty disturbing his usual stoic expression.
“Whistler? What about G’neash and Zynaesh demons that got you so upset?”
“Zynaesh and G’neash are hereditary enemies. They have a very nasty tendency to destroy everything in their path in their war against each other. How did this happen?!” The old human demanded getting creakily to his feet.
“A Watcher wished to gather the power of the Protector and instill it into his Slayer. By spreading rumors of G’neash coming, he hoped to convince all parties to go through with a summoning spell. Unfortunately, as a result, the Zynaesh got wind that their enemies were going to Sunnydale.” Wesley reported quietly. He watched as the man paced angrily back and forth.
“You?!”
“No, the Watcher of Sunnydale,” came the cool response. Both Blade and Whistler froze.
“That’s where a lot of the the vampires and demons live,” the man said shakily. “Is he a damn fool or what?”
“We kinda think so,” Cordy remarked wryly, leaning against Angel.
Whistler paused and looked at the kids. “Look, kids, I know you think you’re all bad and stuff but you need to stay the fuck away from that Sunnydale place. It’s bad news and it has a Hellmouth underneath it as well. And believe you me, it ain’t the place for you all to be…hell, I’d be worried if Blade went there.”
Blade nodded soberly, an uncharacteristic display of concern on his face. “You don’t want to go there. Like Whistler said it’s not a very good place for humans. And yeah, I know that there are some idiots that live there but they’re just food.”
Cordy and Xander started chuckling. “Yeah, that’s exactly what Spike called us. Walking McMeals. Anyway, it’s not so bad. You just hafta watch out for the occasional psyhco vampire, apocalypse and world-ending shit every now and then. Other than that, it’s just like any other small town. Except for the vampires.” Xander grinned at the shocked look that were on the two men faces.
“And demons,” Cordy chimed in.
“Don’t forget about werewolves and evil witches,” Faith added.
“And wannabe demi-gods.”
With a wicked glint in her eyes, Cordy slyly looked at Xander. “Well, clearly preying mantis lady won’t be havin' any use for you.” And laughing she ducked the mock swing Xander threw at her.
“If I find out where they took that invisible girl, I’m gonna give her your address,” he threatened her playfully.
Whistler and Blade were still looking a little shell-shocked at the revelation that these kids came from Sunnydale. “Uhm…and how long have you three lived in Sunnydale?” The old man asked hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.
“Well, these two bumbling idiots were born there,” Angel interjected from his position between the mock fighting taking place between Xander and Cordy. They instantly settled down, wilting a little under Rejar’s stern eyes.
“And after Kendra died, Faith showed up as the second Slayer,” Angel continued, stroking Xander’s hair. Letting him know he was just teasing the boy. And knowing his efforts were successful at the crooked smile Xander gave him.
“There’s two slayers?! When? I mean…aren’t there supposed to be only one,” Whistler stammered, looking around the room.
“Yeah, but the nitwit just had to go and save the damn bitch’s life,” Cordy interjected in disgust, slapping Xander playfully on the thigh.
“Don’t make me look for invisogirl,” Xander warned her. And laughter glittered in his eyes.
“I’m lost,” Whistler said simply, turning to look at Blade.
“Just accept the fact that there are two Slayers walking the earth,” Xander replied with a shake of his head.
Rejar stepped smoothly into the pause, regaining control of the conversation.
“Whistler, you are considered to be one of the smarter humans when it comes to using technology on vampires. We need you to build a weapon that will be able to contain a significant amount of energy. “
“Yeah, like what kind…” the old man replied. His curiosity was tickling almost unbearably at him.
“This type of power,” came a cool voice on his right. He looked and jumped away from the sight of the kid with white eyes. And there were two glowing spheres balanced on either hand. His mind was stuttering in confusion. First it's a goofy-looking kid, now he's a....a...what the fuck is he?
“In Sunnydale there is currently a situation that will more energy than I am capable of producing at one time. I can produce the energy, store it and regenerate the depleted amounts. And upon regeneration, I will grow stronger with each discharge.”
Blade stood frozen for half a second, before sweeping Whistler slightly behind his back and drawing a sword.
“What the hell are you?!” He refused to show fear before this…this…and he spared a confused glance at his friend. Hoping that the other would know what the kid was.
“I am the Protector. I am the Guardian of this dimension. A dimension that will soon be invaded by Zynaesh seeking Gn’aesh. I am extremely old and Xander has graciously allowed me to share his body. Is there anything you would like to know?” And an ironic brow subtly indicated the absolutely useless value of the sword the vampire hunter was holding.
“Blade…put the sword up now,” Whistler said tremblingly, his eyes wide in fear. “You really, REALLY don’t want to mess with it.“
Blade’s lips curled in a silent sneer at the intent look on everyone’s faces. He was aware that he was vastly outnumbered, but it wasn’t nothing he hadn’t faced before. He tightened his grip on his sword…and it was wrenched from his hand by some unseen force.
His eyes narrowed on the kid now holding his sword.
“Interesting. It is quite fascinating that you carry so many weapons while a Slayer generally relies only on stakes. Perhaps it’s time for a slight modification in the way they are trained. They are demon hunters as well...” It said, glancing at Wes. Though he paled slightly at the hint of reproof in the Protector’s voice, the young Watcher nodded in compliance.
“Excellent. We have much work that needs to be done if you all intend to join the battle for Sunnydale. Should we fail, I fear the Zynaesh will appear in force on this world.”
“It’s much worse,” Rejar interjected quietly. He indicated the report on his desk. “I took the liberty of sending a few agents to Sunnydale to also keep an eye on things. No insult to your grandchild's powers of observation, but my people are far better trained. So far there has been over 2,000 refugees arriving in this world from the other dimensions that the Zynaesh are jumping into. Buffy and her group have managed to kill a little over 90 of these individuals, mainly children and non-fighters, as a matter of fact.”
“What is making the situation even more perilous is the fact that word is reaching back to the individuals still behind. And when the arriving demons come to this world they are naturally more fearful than ever. Now whenever they jump to this world, they immediately slaughter any human they see, fearing that all humans are the same. Which is causing a rather predictable reaction in the Sunnydale Slayer.”
“I've had my people searching for other exits from this world and until they are able to locate a suitable exit, we are shifting the incoming people all over as best we can. But I fear that this is simply a stopgate measure.”
Whistler blinked, then his eyes narrowed. “How much time do I have?” He said demandingly. He ignored Blade's restraining hand.
“Old man, what the hell are you doing? These vampires are the enemy,” the dark hunter whispered harshly to his friend.
“Hey, not a vampire over here!” Faith called to the two men, waving her hand at them.
“Me either!” came Xander and Cordy's cheerful voices.
Blade coolly ignored the children save a brief cold glance that effectively shut them up.
He turned back to Whistler with the beginning stirring of anger in his dark eyes.
“Excuse us for a moment,” the old man tried to smile charmingly at the blank faces and limped away. Forcing Blade to follow him over to the far side of the room. Whistler opened his mouth...
Rejar gently cleared his throat.
Whistler looked sharply at him, then at the expectant look on all the vampires' faces he stomped out of the study and into the large entranceway.
Blade hesitated then followed after the older man.
And Whistler's eyes gleamed with a cold, ruthlessness reminiscent of Blade's more terrifying scowls.
“Listen up, kid, cause I really didn't think I would need t'tell ya this. Was kinda expectin' ya to come to see this all on yer own. But here it goes: 'SHIT HAPPENS!' Sometimes ya gotta work with whatcha have in order to survive. Now the Zynaesh is about as nasty as shit could be, and that Protector creature in the kid could pretty much kick the snot outta them with one hand tied behind it's back IF IT WAS AT FULL STRENGTH! You understand what I'm tellin' ya? Right now, it *can't * stop the Zynaesh. Not by itself. Not alone. And if you think I'm gonna let a bunch of school kids whoop my ass and do this alone...well, I guess I ain't taught you shit!” Whistler's voice was harsh as he glared into Blade's startled eyes.
And the air between the two men crackled with tension. Angry determination in one set of darkened eyes and deep-rooted fear in the other's dark eyes. Both were unwilling to give in. Both felt they were in the right, and perhaps they were each correct in their own way. But fierce pride was the downfall of kings and queens. And pride stood between them as well.
Blade knew Whistler was making a mistake. He would get himself killed for helping vampires. And his mind was racing frantically, seizing then discarding options with unnerving speed though his face remained expressionless.
How could Whistler do this? Do this to him? But when he gazed into the fierce eyes, still sharp even with the number of years the old man carried, he could see pride...and fear in Whistler's eyes. The old man was no fool and he needed to stop treating him like one. This was the man that had made him what he was...a vampire hunter.
“So...is this what you feel every time I go out hunting?” Blade instead said wryly. A tiny quirk curve his lips in a half-smile.
“Every time. Every fuckin' time.”
Blade sighed in angry resignation. “And I suppose I can't talk you out of this?”
“Nope.” Whistler was starting to grin cheerfully at the disgruntled tone of his adopted son.
“Damn. Stubborn old man,” was muttered in a disgruntled tone.
And Whistler's smile slowly faded as he looked at the grim expression settling on his young friend's face.
“There's an old saying that you better remember if you're ever in this kinda situation: 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer'. Think about it.” With that, the old man limped quickly to the study doors and slipped back inside. Leaving a stunned vampire hunter shaken and for the first time unsure of his place in Whistler's life.
And a brief smile glittered in his dark eyes. Clever, old man, very clever. Distract me and slip away before I can stop you. He turned and glided back into the room, flashing a rare grin at his mentor. Fight, disagree, whatever they did...Whistler was as close to being necessary to him as he would allow. And Protector or not, if the old man got hurt somebody was going to pay.
Rejar studied the dark vampire hunter and imperceptibly nodded to Kyle. The child would bear close scrutiny in the future. He turned his attention back to the planning of the defense of this dimension.
And for almost two solid weeks, Whistler and the Protector worked on developing some mechanism that would be able to house a portion of the Protector's energy. Time and again the lower part of the house would rattle with the muffled sounds of their failures. But grimly, he, Xander and the Protector would resume their experiments, working long into the night. And the others would find the two men collapsed in exhausted heaps while tools and other utensils moved silently over the workbench as the Protector continued to experiment in building the storage units.
However, Blade noticed that all motion would stop the instant anyone ventured too close to the sleeping men. And a deadly watchfulness then filled the air. He had the disquieting sensation that one false move from anyone other than Xander's friends would result in immediate termination. No exception. He wasn't even allowed to retrieve or even make his friend more comfortable on the floor. He was treated as a threat.
Any other time that would have caused him secret amusement, but it was *Whistler* that he was viewed as a possible threat to...his friend. Whistler was his mentor...the closest thing to a father he had ever had and the Protector saw him as a potential menace. All he could do was watch helplessly as both Whistler and Xander trudged on. Working frantically to find a possible solution before their time ran out.
Whistler rested his tired eyes on his latest prototype. He sighed, almost in defeat before he even activated the damn thing. If he just had more time he knew he could find a way. But if the head honcho was shootin' straight, time was in real short supply on this little mission.
He gave a hopeful look at the kid and received a weary grin in return. For the kid's sake he hoped that this thingie worked. After spending almost two weeks cooped up with him and El Protecto, he figured if its' plan didn't work and stop the Zynaesh, the kid wasn't gonna survive whatever Glowy would be forced to do to permanently seal the Zynaesh from this world. Though by the way that Angel dude was always touching the kid, he suspected the vampire and Xander both understood the consequences.
That look of growing desperation in the vampire's eyes was the complete opposite in the boy's eyes: a deepening calmness as if the kid had already accepted his death and was prepared to make one hell of a big bang before he left. And a corner of Whistler's lips curled up in reluctant admiration. He snorted almost silently. The boy...all those kids had guts, he had to give them that.
Whistler refocused his attention on the tiny silver box. He sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out. He could feel the tension radiating from the kid...this had to work or they would all be in deep shit. He inhaled once again and let the air trickle out of his lungs.
Then with nervous fingers, he pressed the release mechanism...
...and nothing happened.
“FUCK!” He slammed his fist on the table, his scowl deepening with futile rage.
Xander sighed. His eyes were almost as bloodshot as Whistler's as they regarded their last and final prototype. “You tried...” giving the old man a crooked grin. Then they both froze, staring at the small object.
*Click*
The box had a thin line bi-secting all four sides.
*Click Click*
A sliver of light glowed from the seam.
*Whirl*
The seam widened as the top portion slid upward and rotated twice. Then a piercing white light exploded from the levitating object as it lifted and spun on one corner.
Xander and Whistler screamed and began hugging each other in giddy relief. And their yells of joy brought the others running, only to add their shouts to the two dancing men.
Later that day, Rejar once again sat behind his desk. Surreptitiously, he studied Xander's exhausted face, marveling once again at the changes in the child in the three months he had been here. Despite the weariness that was visibly dragging at him, the boy's face was wreathed in a beatific smile as he leaned against Angel.
“Now that the weapon is completed, perhaps you would care to tell us exactly what you intend to do with so many? Unfortunately, I fear I shall not be able to provide you with as many warriors as you may possibly need.”
He subtly stiffened when Xander straightened and knew the Protector was in the driver's seat.
“It will not be necessary to supply any of your people for this battle. It was never my intent to draw away your valuable resources in this war.”
Kyle glanced at Pascal in confusion and leaned forward in his chair. “Then who's gonna help you fight the Zynaesh? No insult, but I hope you're not thinking of using just them,” he said, gesturing to the Sunnydalers.
“Not at all. I plan on using the Slayers,” came the calm reply. And everyone exchanged puzzled looks. But when it explained its meaning, their looks cleared to one of uneasy acceptance.
Sunnydale...First day of school
Buffy heaved a sigh as she, Willow and Oz met early in the Library with Giles. The look on her Watcher's face was extremely confusing. It was a curious mixture of fear and uneasy speculation that was causing the caterpillars in her stomach to hatch into nervous butterflies. Any time Giles got that look on his face it usually meant really bad news for her and if he started making that damn clucking sound she knew she was gonna be in some serious deep doo-doo.
This had to have been the WORST summer of her life. This even beat the summer working as 'Anne' in that greasy diner. Getting pinched, taking people’s orders, trying not to beat the hell out of her boss when he fired her.
Giles sighed and removed his glasses. Unaware that the children were leaning forward with dread in their eyes as he began polishing them. Absently he made a soft tutting sound as he recalled the devastating news he had just heard this morning...Buffy, Oz and Willow paled alarmingly. The portents had filled him with a horrible understanding at how badly he had underestimated the situation.
“I received confirmation this morning that Quentin Travers is dead,” he began abruptly. Silently he cursed himself for his hesitation and the relief he felt when he had first called Travers and the man didn't return his call. But it was only after three weeks without the older man contacting him, did he begin to feel uneasy. Another call only netted him the information that 'I'm sorry, but Mr. Travers is away on business for the next two weeks....' and some other nonsense. All said in such a chirpy voice that one couldn't help but feel nauseous at the silly chit and wonder why someone hadn't strangled her already.
However, it still took him several more weeks to finally chase down the whispers he had begun hearing from sources still at the Watcher's Council. That some great event had taken place and that Travers had been involved. Had being the operative word.
“And we are not making with the happy dance because...” Buffy asked in confusion.
“Because I fear that foul play was involved. And in addition to that information, the Shadows are walking the earth.”
Willow remained quiet, letting Giles, Buffy and Oz's words pass over her head. She was merely typing desultorily at her laptop and trying her best to simply avoid attracting their attention. Unknowingly, she was in agreement with Buffy: this had to have been the worst summer vacation she had ever had in her life. And she included the summer she wound up in the hospital with the flu and a broken leg. She grinned fondly, remembering how Jesse and...she flinched inside before she continued...how Jesse and Xander had escaped their houses and crept into the hospital just to keep her company. Rolled up in sleeping bags on the floor by her bed so she wouldn’t be alone.
Her lips twisted bitterly...so she wouldn't be alone. And she cast a look at her bickering 'friends'. Despite Buffy best efforts, she had never felt more 'alone' in her entire life. .
All summer, ever since Buffy found the mansion empty, her 'friend' had practically glued her esteemed Slayer self to her side. Apologizing for the 'misunderstanding' the day of the spell. Talking rapidly to convince her of Xander's duplicity. They had all suspected that Faith, Cordy, Wes and Xander had ganged up on Angel, staked him then ran away. And Willow suspected the only reason why Buffy was hanging with her was the Slayer thought Xander would eventually try to contact her. His best friend. Willow snorted to herself...and so did she. But as the days had turned to weeks, Willow had a terrifying suspicion that Xander wasn't going to be contacting her...not now or ever again. She had a horrible feeling that her best friend was dead or he would have found some way to get in touch with her!
~So you can betray him again?~ whispered a dark thought deep in her mind, shocking her to a loudly voiced “NO!”
Startling the others into regarding the trembling witch.
“Uh...'No' what? No as in we don't need to patrol on the first day of school, an idea that I am personally fond of or No, we need to trudge through another useless patrol?” Buffy asked with a furrowed brow.
Willow stammered in confusion, her face flushing a bright red in embarrassment, before she ducked her head. Red hair flowing, shielding her from their curious eyes. And Oz eyed his trembling girlfriend with puzzled wolfish eyes. But like Buffy, he soon dismissed the red-head from his mind.
Soon after, with Giles in the lead, they strolled and talked desultorily among themselves. They made their way through the throng of chattering, new and returning students. And Willow was silent as she trailed behind the trio. Then their eyes were caught by a cheery red sports car pulling into the parking lot. Buffy's eyes fell on the license plate, easily reading the 'Queen C' in bold letters. And her eyes flashed angrily, then she was striding purposely toward the car.
Students scattered like leaves, no one wanted to get between the returning champion known as Cordelia Chase and Buffy Summers, the would-be contender, for the throne of Sunnydale High. Both females were each deadly in their own areas of expertise, but more people were terrified of Cordy than the tiny blonde. Despite the fact they knew Buffy was freakishly strong, still the worst she could do was hurt you. And in a couple of weeks, you'll be good as new.
But Cordy, she could destroy a soul and spirit without even raising her voice or lifting a hand. By the time she was finished with you, you would gladly kill your own self.
Buffy was still moving, getting closer to the parking lot. But she came to a complete stop when two of the last people she ever thought to see, exited the car along with Cordy.
Sparing a brief glance at the flummoxed Slayer, Cordy continued her conversation with Xander and Faith.
“So anyway, I told MaryAlice that if that dress was an original Miska, I would personally kiss Beverly's imitation Italian leather shoes. 'Cos those were fake too! As old as she is, she ought to know better, ya think? I was right, of course! So, like my new boots?” She chuckled wickedly at the astonished look on Faith's face as they strutted past Buffy.
“Bitch, you did not take those from Bev?” Faith gasped in awe. Beverly Andersdoter was the coldest, snottiest vampire bitch in the House of Aureli. She was always trying to put them down. Looking down her long pointy nose at them.
“Bitch I may be, crazy I am NOT. MaryAlice made her give them to me. Hey, if I had to kiss her shoes then I most assuredly deserved something for being right,” the fashion maven looked extremely insulted. But even Xander could see the smug satisfaction radiating from the girl and he joined in the laughter of his friends.
Then his arm was grabbed in an iron grip and he was shoved into the hard brick wall. He grunted softly from the force then choked as the grip shifted from his arm to his throat. Then he was looking into the raging blue eyes of a pissed off Slayer. And the lessons that Kyle and Pascal painfully instilled in him flared to life, his leg coming up and slamming into her stomach. Staggering her back, and incidentally, forcing her to release him. Cordy stooped and helped him to his feet, keeping a cold glare directed towards Buffy. The blonde Slayer was not appreciative of his newfound martial skills.
Faith smoothly put herself between Xander and Buffy. “Got a problem, B? 'Cos if so, maybe me and you need to find a place to have a little...talk.” There was a cold darkness gathering in the dark Slayer's eyes, something that made Buffy blink and pause. Then she heard Giles' familiar baritone and a smug smile lit her face. She'll let Giles deal with them.
Cordy and Xander stepped up to Faith's side. They waited for the seriously angry Watcher with hardly any expression on their faces other than narrowed cool eyes. No more running.
A furiously pale Librarian finally managed to push his way through the crowd of curious onlookers, trailed by Oz and a nervous, disbelieving Willow.
Giles had his mouth open for a blistering reprimand to the defiant trio when a smooth, rich voice took the wind out of his blustering sails.
“Attitude. Rich. Stylish. That could only be one Ms. Cordelia Chase. The reports about you really didn't do you justice.
Cordy preened slightly but never removed her eyes from Giles.
Giles on the other hand whirled around and saw a tall African-American man. A smoothly shaven head with skin the color of bitter chocolate was his first immediate impression. Then he took in the elegant suit the man wore with such savoir faire, it had to come with the ease of long practice. Not for him was off the rack ill-fitting suits, he just didn't look the sort. A neat well kept beard began above his lips and flowed down, framing a mouth that seemed unused to smiling. And if he did smile, one imagined it was much like the wide stretch you would see just before the shark ripped you to pieces. Very little could be seen on his eyes as they were covered by dark shades. A fact that made Giles even more uneasy, a feeling that he tried to displace by blustering at the chap.
“I say, who the devil are you?! This is school property, I'll have you know!” He demanded haughtily. Secretly glad that he was considerably taller than the fellow.
“My name is Wood. Robin Wood to be precise. But you...” and he glanced around the agog students, “You may all address me as Principal Wood. And I think that I heard First Bell ring, which means if I'm not mistaken that all good little boys and girls should be inside.” And not once was his voice raised beyond conversational level.
But there was something about how he just stood there, as if there was no doubt or hesitation that his 'suggestion' would not be followed post-haste. And to their surprise, the students found themselves hesitantly at first, then moving faster towards the safety of the school.
And Willow was caught in the rushing tide of the students surging frantically into the school. She gave Xander a wide smile of happiness when he seemed to look her way. But at his lack of return smile, she concluded that he couldn't have seen her and allowed herself to be carried along. Comforted that she would run into him again. Soon.
Then Giles was alone and facing Wood. He decide to act as if everything was perfectly normal. Which it was. Normal that is.
“Apparently I must have missed the memo informing us that there was a change in administration. Might one ask what became of the former principal, Mr. Snyder?” Giles asked delicately.
“English, huh? I suppose everyone needs babysitter,” Robin remarked calmly. His lips curved imperceptible upwards in a faint smile at the look of frustrated rage on the man's face. “But back to your question. You can ask all the questions you like about Mr. Snyder.” He said almost cheerfully as he walked around Giles. “But that doesn't mean you'll get an answer.” And his smile widened even more at the outraged gasp behind him. Pulling open the outer door, he felt that if the brief glimpse he got outside was any indication, Sunnydale had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.
An hour later the entire student body were restlessly squirming in their seats in the auditorium. Word had already gotten around that that ol' Snyder the Spider was out and a new sheriff was in town.
And a couple of the more bad boys, and girls, were already creating a disturbance. They were cackling, exhorting each other to louder and louder excess. Their feet were propped on the back of the seat in front of them, despite the fact it contained students that were too terrified to ask them to remove them. They were forced to sit on the edge of their seats to avoid contact with the others shoes.
They did these things because they could. Fluty never did anything to stop them other than try to talk them to death. And Snyder was a joke. Screaming at people, handing out demerits like they had some kinda magical powers. Like who gave a fuck if they had to stay after for detention?
Now they had a new principal to break in, show him how they did things...Sunnydale style. They traded evil smirks with each other.
The teachers on the stage whispered among themselves as well. Many had never met Mr. Wood, their dealing of the previous week were through the unusually closed-mouth vice principal. They sat up straight and abruptly became silent as a tall, distinguish man walked calmly across the stage.
Upon reaching the center, Robin stopped and unbuttoned his jacket and slid his hands into his pockets while studying the crowd. This was his kingdom. And a faint smirk flickered on his lips as he easily spotted a couple of troublemakers sitting up front.
“Some of you may have already heard that Mr. Snyder is no longer at Sunnydale. He has chosen to take an early retirement and I was hired as the new principal. My name is Mr. Wood, Principal Wood.”
“I'm going to let you in on a little secret about how I got this job. When your School Board first approached, I initially said 'No'. Actually I laughed rather mockingly in their faces. Because I was quite sure they would not allow me to run a school the way I envision a capable school being administered. And of course, they were hesitant due to my age but quite a few saw that as a positive sign. They apparently felt that with a young man, I would be able to adapt faster and guide Sunnydale High through it's...troubled times.”
“Once I accepted the position, I made a few requests from the Board that they graciously acceded to. They provided me with a report on every returning student attending Sunnydale High. I know about the so-called 'good kids', which are the ones I privately refer to as the ones that never got caught. And I know of the ones labeled as the bad seeds. But you see, I like to think of myself as an extremely fair man. A man that is willing to give people the benefit of the doubt.” He noticed a couple of the boys in front elbowing each other with twisted grins on their faces.
“But I also pride myself on not being a fool. I become quite...upset when I feel my generosity and fair dealings with others is being taken advantage of.” Now he allowed his cold sharklike smile to emerge.
You could hear a pin drop. The silence was so complete. There was a much bigger and badder predator in the school now.
“And in an effort to make sure the rules of this school are clearly understood, I am requiring that all students, teachers and parents sign a very simple little form. This form clearly outlines the purpose of the school, the rules and conduct of behavior expected of everyone within these walls. As well as the consequences for breaking them.”
He looked around the very uneasy auditorium. “You will be held accountable for failing to uphold your side of the bargain. My contract with you is to provide a safe haven for those wanting to learn, not a little bolt hole for budding anti-social behavior. And if I fail in my duties because of some inside or outside trouble, I tend to get a little...testy.”
And looking at the cold dangerous smile on his face, a number of children didn't want to see that either. But there was always a joker in the crowd that loved to taunt the tiger. Not realizing that the rope around the dangerous predator's neck was as fragile as a length of thread.
“So what happens if...let's suppose some kid punches another kid in the ribs? Whatcha gonna do? Give 'em demerits?! Oh I know, how about detention?!” Jason called out mockingly to Woody, as he had taken to calling the man. He casually raised a hand for his chortling cronies to slap appreciatively. He stared challenging at the older man, not intimidated by the raised brow. He was a big boy, well over 6 feet and built like a truck. Wasn't many men that scared him. And besides, he was on the football team and there was no fuckin' way Coach'll let something happen to him.
Robin sauntered down the stairs and confidently made his way to the young man. He ignored the uneasy stirring of the gathered students and faculty.
“Let me see,” he mused thoughtfully as he stared at the seated boy. “Jason Taylor, star of the Sunnydale football team. It's interesting that your name was featured quite prominently in many of the reports given to me. Perhaps you would care to join me on the stage so everyone can hear your extremely intelligent question and my response.” Robin turned and walked away, and after some hesitation, Jason followed.
Robin still had a smile, but now Jason was feeling a little wigged at the number of teeth the man was showing.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Taylor had a very interesting question that he asked of me. Go ahead, please repeat it so everyone may hear.”
Jason stiffened his back and encouraged by the smirks on his friends faces, he restated his question. Stepping back, he tossed a tiny sneer at ol' Woody.
“Thank you Mr. Taylor. I operate on the three strikes and you're out rule. Out of this school, that is. First offense, and yes Mr. Taylor you do indeed receive demerits. And depending on the severity of the violation, you will receive a certain number of points. Then you will be assigned to a special program at school. One I like to call...'Taking care of your fellow students'. This program involves quite a few things such as giving one of our esteemed lunch staff a day off with pay and taking their place; giving one of the janitorial staff a day off, again with pay, and taking on their duties.” Call him cruel but he got a kick out of seeing the kid look like he was about to faint.
“Now the second offense, and this is where it gets interesting, any school activity you are involved in will be immediately curtailed for the length of demerits you have incurred. So, let's say for example you have 10-15 demerits, though I'm sure no one will get quite that high, you will automatically be suspended from let's say football for 10-15 weeks.” And he let his smile grow at the faint squeak the boy gave.
“As for the third offense or at a pre-determined number of demerits, you will be expelled from this school. And you and you family will be at liberty to find another school to continue your education.” He looked around, a mere lift of his lips at the appalled expressions on some of the teachers and more intelligent students faces.
“However, as a consolation the system of demerits will reset itself somewhat, after 90 days from your last demerit. Meaning that a small portion of demerits will be removed from your record. And for each day that you remain trouble-free, one demerit will be subtracted. Now, any questions? No? Excellent!”
Robin had a positively cherubic smile on his face at the sick look that many students were wearing. “Of course, a slightly different rule will apply towards any faculty member that is proven to be aiding, abetting and covering up a student's misconduct. That includes turning a blind eye to a violent confrontation between students; allowing a failing student to participate in school sponsored events such as football, basketball, chess tournaments, debates, etc.”
“You...you can't do that,” Coach came out of his stunned disbelief to protest. He rose to his feet, false courage surging through him at the discrete looks of support on some of the teachers' faces. They were secretly horrified at Principal Wood's words. Children couldn't possibly learn in a setting like that. Children needed to be gently nurtured and guided. Allowed free rein to grow and flourish.
Robin whirled around with a smooth, controlled movement.
“You are absolutely correct Coach Reed!”
And the man’s angry expression settled into one of smugness. Unfortunately, Robin wasn't quite finished.
“Coach Reed, I will not be responsible for any student being expelled, nor will you or any teacher up here. I'm quite sure that Jason, here, can tell me who will be responsible.”
Jason abruptly decided that there should be a law against people showing as many teeth as Principal Wood. He wasn't stupid, he knew exactly what the principal was saying.
“Well, Jason, can you tell Coach the answer?” Robin prompt the young man. His smile widened infinitesimally.
“me.”
“I'm sorry, could you speak a little louder so those in the balcony can hear you?”
“I said me. I'll be responsible.” Jason enunciated his words loudly and clearly. Feeling absurdly relieved at the dimming of Principal Wood's smile and proud at the hearty congratulatory clap on his back.
“Thank you, you may resume your seat.” The man waited calmly as the boy scurried to his place amid the bussing of the chattering students.
“You see, the reason why I'm taking such harsh measures with this school is simple. Without going into details a major crime almost took place on school grounds. Committed by several students against another student. And I have no intention of allowing that type of behavior in MY school. If you want to act like a street thug, you can do that. I can't stop you.” Robin shrugged carelessly, then his face hardened into a deadly mask. “But you will not be acting like that...here.”
He began to smile again. “Ladies and gentlemen, faculty and students, Welcome to Sunnydale High. I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay within these hallowed walls of learning. But if not, well I'm sure you know where the door is.”
And without so much as a look behind, Robin strolled away. His first mission accomplished, now on to the next.
Cordy, Faith and Xander regarded each other with dropped jawed looks of shock. And looking around they noticed just about everyone looked like they had been sandbagged.
“Are you scared?” Xander whispered to the girls as they left the auditorium.
“D'uh!” came from the two young women and he let out a sigh of relief. “Good, I was hoping I wasn't the only one.”
“I know it's been a long time for me, but are principals supposed to act like that?” Faith asked with an uncertain look.
“I dunno, but this one sure as hell is,” Cordy said grimly but with a faint smile.
Before the day was all over, Xander and Faith were individually summoned to the Principal's office. And the young man felt like dead man walking at the sympathetic expressions his new classmates gave him.
At his tentative knock, and the muffled 'Come in' he gingerly eased into the office and took a seat.
Robin regarded the nervous young man sitting before him. Trying to reconcile his admittedly first visual impression of Alexander Harris with the many reports he had of the boy. If he believed the reports by the Sunnydale faculty, the young man was a 'Goofy, ill-dressed, troublemaking, rebellious student'. 'He was hyper, insecure and more than likely would find himself in some menial position because he lacked ambition' came from another teacher's report. And a footnote '...Alexander had an uncanny knack for choosing the wrong type of people to associate with, and somehow wherever trouble was, you were sure to find Alexander Harris, Willow Rosenburg and Buffy Summers involved'. What struck him were the number of teachers that seemed to believe that particular idea. And some had never been the boy's teacher!
But if he went with the more recent reports from a Ms. MaryAlice Tomasson and a Mr. Wyndam-Price then Alexander Harris, while not a remarkably brilliant student, did strive to apply himself. You could almost track the points where the boy struggled and finally understood certain concepts and his grades improved. So either the faculty was at fault or Mr. Harris' tutors were somehow falsifying the data. However, it they were falsifying data then it would stand to reason that Faith McDaniels' grades were also tainted. But no one would purposely put down such insane grades like that! And like the boy, you could see the struggle it took for her to make it to at least a 'D' average!
Robin directed his attention back to the young man, easily recognizing the wariness in those dark eyes obliquely watching himatchatching the room, looking for places of escape or defense. But no signs of hyperness whatsoever. Someone obviously went through a great deal of trouble training the kid in self-control as if to prepare him for some coming attack.
“Mr. Snyder had a large file on you, Mr. Harris. It was almost as large as the file he had on Buffy Summers and Willow Rosenburg.” His sharp eyes caught the betraying flinch Xander made at the mention of their names. And Robin mentally filed that tibbit of information neatly away, adding it to the other impressions he had been gathering. Because after the incident this morning, he was more than inclined to keep a careful watch on the five children involve.
“I'm sure he did,” was all Xander would say. He made sure no trace of his bitterness or hatred showed on his face. The sharp dressed man merely nodded thoughtfully at the dark emotions that flared in the boy's eyes. Obviously Xander blamed Snyder for some of what happen during the latter part of the previous school year.
“It was my understanding that you were involved in an...incident a few weeks before school ended. Is there something that I need to know or be aware of Mr. Harris? Will I need to involve myself in any way?”
Xander's eyes hardened and darkened to a near black as rage surged through him remembering the grasping hands. Touching him. Holding him down. Ripping at his clothes. Not allowing him to get away. The jeering faces, the shrill mocking laughter still rang in his ears.
“No sir,” he gritted out. Involuntarily clenching and unclenching his hands, struggling to master his rage.
Robin raised a brow at the at the rigid control the boy had on his temper. “Mr. Harris while I am sympathetic towards the incident that you claim did not happen, the rules still apply towards you. Do I make myself understood?” Despite the mildness of the words, a clear warning was in his tone.
“Like crystal, sir...” Then Xander hesitated. “Uhm, what's your policy on defending yourself?”
Robin smiled slightly. “You'll still receive demerits, however, I certainly make allowances. Although, it had better be quite obvious that only defense is being made.”
“Thank you. Uhm, may I go?” The young man asked tentatively, half-rising from his chair.
With a silent nod, he zipped out the door, just in case Principal Wood decided to call him back. But at the sight of Buffy sitting in the required horribly uncomfortable orange plastic chair, he straightened and quickly plastered his patented goofy, 'I'm just an idiot' smile on his face. Which didn't stop Buffy from getting out of her seat with a distinctly hostile look in her eyes. And he was pretty damn sure that they were about to be the first to receive demerits.
Fortunately, Principal Wood's office door opened suddenly and the soft polite “Ms. Summers, if you would care to step into my office” effectively put a little crimp in Buffy's slash and bash routine.
Xander marveled at just how much menace could be put in such simple words. He was definitely gonna add that to his bag of tricks. And he smirked nastily at the uneasiness that bloomed on the Slayer's face. Demons were easy to deal with. See 'em, kill 'em. But beating and killing humans were apparently a bad naughty no-no for poor little Buffy.
“Isn't there some place you need to be, Mr. Harris?”
And startled he jumped and began backing hastily away, babbling apologies. Though a backward look at Buffy made him grin. She had the air of a person going to their death.
Buffy was amazed at just how lost she felt to see Xander stroll happily away.
“Now then, Ms. Summers, why don't you have a seat,” came a smooth voice and she jumped, then faced Principal Wood. Feeling a certain...familiarity about him. Like, somehow, she knew him. She searched his dark unreadable eyes, the composed face---positive that she had met him. Something about him called to her.
What it was, she didn't know. But maybe Giles would know.
She hoped.
- 6
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