Chapter Text
“Are you sure this will work?” asks Giles, pausing in packing the occult books into boxes to watch Stephen work.
“I think so” Stephen replies, “Chemistry isn’t my specialty, but the instructions are pretty clear.” He glances up. “Are you sure Principal Snyder won’t walk in and see all this?”
“As sure as I can be. He’s always respected the library closed sign before.”
Stephen smiles knowingly, and Giles can’t blame him. The things he’s gotten away with in here; the martial arts training, the stockpile of weapons, the demonology books. Hellmouth stupefaction has its perks.
The books packed and the preparations made, the two of them survey their work. Stephen asks, “This won’t affect the hellmouth, will it?”
Giles replies, “If it does do anything unusual, it will be because of the mystical influence of the ascension, not anything as mundane as explosives.” He’ll miss this place, he realises, only after it is inevitable that it will shortly be vaporised. “I suppose this will put us out of our jobs, at least until they can build a new school.”
Stephen shakes his head. “I’m retiring anyway.”
“Oh?”
The man smiles. “I was going to announce it sooner, maybe have a party, but then the end of the world got in the way.”
“It won’t be the end of the world. We have a plan now.”
“A plan that puts the students in danger” Stephen points out.
“They’d be in danger anyway” reasons Giles. “This…well, it empowers them to fight back.” Trying to ignore Stephen’s dubious expression, he steps towards the cage. “Let’s ready the weapons.”
*****
“I guess they can’t give us with a detention for graffiti even if we survive” Willow says nervously, glancing around as Amy places crystals strategically and Ethan sprays symbols onto the car park tarmac. “What with us leaving school and all.” But she still looks rattled.
“Yeah” says Amy. “And with the school about to not exist anymore.”
“That’s true” Willow’s expression doesn’t change until she adds, in a tone of forced cheer, “And this will save people, right?”
“Absolutely” Ethan replies. “A subtle and understated way to fight demons.”
“Good” Amy hides the last crystal in a clump of long grass. Standing up, she asks, “But it won’t save everyone, will it?”
“No” admits Ethan. “Protection spells have their limits. Especially in the face of the sort of magic the ascension will involve.”
Amy nods sombrely. Willow murmurs, “Gulp” and kneels to add bone and twig talismans to the clump of grass.
“We’ll be alright, Willow” Amy says.
Seeing the lack of conviction on the child’s face, Ethan turns the conversation to practical matters with, “Did you talk to Oz?”
“Yeah, he’s getting Devon to spread the word. And Percy and Larry are organising the athletes. Xander talked to Harmony.”
“Lucky Xander” mutters Amy. “Michael’s in.”
“Good” says Willow. “And you’ll be there, right Ethan?”
Reluctantly, Ethan nods. “For my sins.” He nods to the rows of seats visible on the playing field in the distance. “I’ll be behind the platform trying to weaken him with magic – and running away if he notices me, I might add.”
“I might join in with the running” admits Amy, watching a pair of teachers lift a table onto the stage. “Not that I think no-one’s going to survive, but I want one them to be me, you know? There’s definitely a time limit on my bravery.”
“It’s called survival instinct” Ethan tells her.
“I’ve got to go” Willow announces, standing up. “I promised Xander and Oz I’d help them learn military strategy.”
“That should be easy to do in a couple of hours!” says Amy.
“After teaching Percy history?” Willow replies. “It’s the one part of the plan I’m not worried about.”
“Well do you know military strategy?”
Willow shrugs. “I learn fast.” She raises a hand in farewell. “I’ll probably see you guys later but if not…well, good luck.”
Watching her leave, Amy mutters, “We’re really screwed, aren’t we?”
*****
He doesn’t see Willow later and, in the midst of the battle, Ethan regrets that, because, really, who were they kidding? Neither of them will survive this. He also regrets not kissing Rupert beyond the brief embrace they shared when they parted – Rupert harried and carrying an armful of weapons – but most of all he regrets letting Rupert drag him to this godforsaken town in the first place.
The air around the Mayor – around the thing that was the Mayor – is hot. Ethan can feel his cheek prickling with it.
Cowering as the thing issues a scraping roar, Ethan fumbles with his bag of props, pulls out a skull that he puts on the ground and hastily scribbles symbols around in chalk. His hands are shaking.
The spell – reeled off frantically – does not work. Nothing so far has worked. Abandoning the bag, hexes cast and ignored, Ethan steps around and away from the stage, staring up at the beast that sways above the school. The army of teenagers massing around it seem to be annoying it rather than causing it actual harm, though Ethan notes with some relief that the heat appears to be emanating from flamethrowers rather than, as he had assumed, the hellmouth waking up.
There is another ghastly roar and, further back in the crowd, screams erupt as the vampires surge forward.
Ethan wants to run. But run where? Any movement could draw its attention. Besides, what would Rupert think? Instead, Ethan finds himself drawing the knife Rupert insisted on giving him from his pocket, ready to join the battle.
He can’t, of course. He wants to, really he does, but his feet disagree. All he can seem to do is stare up at the towering demon, clutching the weapon so hard his hand hurts.
He is not, he realises suddenly, the only one standing apart from the mob and staring: Faith is still on stage, weaponless, ignoring the battle, looking up at the once-mayor.
Looking up, that is until a stuttering sound issues close by. Larry, the strapping lad Willow introduced to him earlier frowns down at his flamethrower and, apparently not able to get it to work, switches to…a spear? Idiot boy.
Sensing an opening, the monster sends its swinging tail the boy’s way. Ethan opens his mouth to call out a warning but before he can form the words, Faith has dived, knocking Larry away from the killing blow. Ethan could swear he hears some expression of surprise leave the monster’s – does it even have lips? – but Faith, leaping up, lifts Larry clean of the ground and swings him hard, slamming him into the students fighting around them. It injures him, certainly, and gives the impression that she means it to, but Ethan has to admit that it also gets him clear of the Mayor and doesn’t actually kill him.
Maybe Faith is aware that the act may not go down well, because she makes quite a show then of attacking the students around her, kicking, throwing punches and swinging round to –
– leap right into Buffy’s blade.
For a second, the scene seems frozen. Ethan and the demon above him both stare at Buffy who stares in pure horror at the knife she’s still holding, most of it buried in Faith’s belly. It is Faith who moves first, plucking the metal from her flesh and staggering back. “Jeez B. Watch where you’re pointing that thing.” She looks down, putting a hand to the red blossoming at the front of her dress. “Damn.”
Above them, a roar of mingled rage and despair fills the air, rattling the few remaining unbroken windows and provoking renewed screams from those still on their feet. Ethan ducks down instinctively and turns to Buffy, hoping she’ll see him and oh, say, save him rather than just stand there looking guilt-stricken.
What Buffy does, though is look from the demon baring down on her to the slayer swaying in front of her – and make a grab for the latter. Lifting Faith in her arms she glares again at the Mayor and runs. Ethan has the presence of mind to dive out the way as the monster gives chase.
*****
Waiting here with his hands on the detonator, with shouts and screams sounding so close by, is maddening. Giles’ thoughts keep returning to Ethan, so unprepared when it comes to non-magical violence, and so very close to the centre of the action. And Stephen, a man not exactly in his prime and about to retire. And Buffy, his wonderful slayer, facing her greatest challenge yet. And the other children. Those screams could be any one of them dying. And instead of running to help, he has to sit here, ready to –
– There is a crash, and Buffy bursts through the library window, cradling another youth in her arms. “Now!” she yells and Giles presses down on the detonator. Buffy skids to a crouch beside him as the blast seems to rip open the very sky, sending heat and shreds of debris rolling over them.
It is a couple of seconds of instinctively shielding his head before Giles can spare a thought for the clearly injured girl Buffy has been shielding. When the combustion subsides and cheering is audible in the distance, Giles pulls off his jacket to stem the blood loss, noticing who the girl is as he does. “Good Lord!”
“Yeah” says Buffy quietly. She gently uncurls Faith’s hands from her arms – the girl is clutching at her – and eases her back, strokes her hair. Faith stares at the flames and smoke that mark where the library was a moment before. She is panting, eyes wide in a way that calls to mind a wounded tiger or a vampire starved and cornered. She is wearing, of all things, a floral shirt dress.
“Call an ambulance” says Buffy.
*****
Ambulances are soon swarming the place, and Giles reluctantly lets Buffy go with Faith in one. It makes sense really, as only one extra person can accompany the patient and Buffy is the only one who has hope of restraining Faith if need be, but Giles isn’t happy about leaving them alone together. Wesley is also wheeled away groaning dramatically and Giles lets him know Faith’s whereabouts before setting off to find Ethan.
Who will be alive, of course. Giles doesn’t allow himself to consider the alternative.
Thankfully, he finds him quickly, wandering near the shards that mark where the podium was. Ethan looks suspiciously unscathed. Hugging him, Giles asks, “Ethan, you didn’t use magic to fix your clothing, did you?”
“Would I do that?” his lover responds in a tone that is both denial and confirmation.
“Yes” replies Giles as they break apart.
“Well you’ll be pleased to know I also protected some innocent citizens with those spray-painted symbols.” Ethan wraps an arm around him. “The rest of the spells did bugger all.”
“Yes, I suppose it was too much to hope for that an ascension could be countered magically. But it was brave of you to try.”
“Not really, it was your idea. I just didn’t want you thinking I’m quite so much of a coward as I probably am really.”
Giles tries not to flinch at that. Mercifully, he notices a few charred scrolls amid the rubble and, the distraction welcome, he detaches himself from Ethan and bends to examine them.
Ethan, slipping his hands into his pockets, adds, “Well at least I tried to help. I feel all clean and virtuous now.”
“So you should” Giles matches his fiancé’s tone but wonders if Ethan is really as casual about the fleeing people his magic couldn’t protect as he seems. In a way, he wants him to be, for his partner’s peace of mind and in another way, what would it say about Ethan if he was? “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Completely. You?”
“Yes. And the children?”
Ethan’s smile wavers. “I’ve seen all of them but Buffy” he admits.
“She’s fine – went off in an ambulance with Faith.”
“Oh good. Rupert, what are you looking for?”
“For this” Giles stands, tucking Buffy’s diploma into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Now come on; we’d better meet Buffy at the hospital.”
*****
All Buffy’s friends and a bandaged Wesley have joined them in the hospital waiting room by the time the doctor comes out with news of Faith: “No major organs damaged but she lost a lot of blood. Are any of you family?”
“Me” answers Buffy, before Wesley can speak. “And Giles”
“This way then.” The doctor leads them down a magnolia hallway and into a small, windowless room.
In it, Faith is propped up in bed, passive beneath a pink blanket. A final blood transfusion is still underway, a gaudy bag suspended to one side and linked to a tube that disappears under a plaster at her wrist. Buffy greets the rogue slayer with, “Hey”
Faith glances up. “Hey”
Buffy gestures to the one plastic chair by the bed. “Can I sit down?”
Faith shrugs, then winces. Buffy sits. Pretending to study the information pinned beside the bed, Giles lets them sit quietly, ready to intervene if need be, though Gods know what he’d do if they started fighting.
Buffy has no intention of that. She asks, “How’re you feeling?”
Another shrug, more defiant this time. “Like I got stabbed.”
“I didn’t mean to do that” Buffy tells her. “You came out of nowhere.”
“Sounds familiar.” Faith laughs, a forced, fragile and slightly alarming sound.
“Yeah” Buffy nods.
A few moments pass, carefully measured by a clock that ticks hollowly somewhere out of sight. After a while, Faith says, “He didn’t blame me. Even though I’d killed his buddy, he never blamed me. Everyone else was all…”
“All actually wanting you to face up to it?” Buffy asks, but she takes Faith’s hand.
Faith asks, “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Yeah” says Buffy. “Very dead.”
“You blew him up?”
“Yeah.”
Faith nods. Her small frown gives nothing away until she says, “I really screwed up, didn’t I? Like, royally fucked things over.”
“Faith –” Buffy begins, but the moment is interrupted by Wesley, who opens the door without knocking and addresses Faith without preamble: “Are you well enough to move? The Council are sending a team to meet us in the desert.”
Buffy answers, “Does she look well enough to move?”
Wesley looks a little guilty, but comes into the room fully, pulling a wheelchair with him. “I’m sure we can borrow this if need be.”
Faith simply regards him. Buffy, meanwhile, is livid. “What’s in the desert? What are you going to do, shoot her and hide the evidence?”
“He’s taking her to England” Giles realises. “Aren’t you?”
“I’m staying here with Buffy” Wesley clarifies. “Faith will be escorted by a team.”
“A team of what?” demands Buffy. “Assassins? Jailors?”
Wesley draws himself up to full height. “Under the circumstances, would jailors be a bad idea?”
Buffy shakes her head, anger visibly mounting. “Do I need to remind you what happened last time you tried to kidnap her?”
“This is different” Wesley’s voice raises just slightly, in competition. “This time Faith will come willingly. Won’t you, Faith?”
Faith stares at him. “I guess.” To Buffy she adds, “Well, what’re my options here? Prison? I’ll pass, thanks.”
“At least before prison you get a fair trial” Buffy tells her. She turns to Giles. “What’ll she get in England?”
“A tribunal” Giles supposes. He looks to Wesley for confirmation and the man nods and adds, “The Council will see that suitable punishment is issued and a process of rehabilitation begins.”
“Rehabilitation?” Buffy repeats. “Try brain washing! And how do we know she’ll ever leave wherever they dump her?” She turns her back on the two men and addresses Faith: “Remember the cruciamentum? You don’t have to go with him.”
Glancing from her to Wesley, Faith is silent.
“You don’t get a say in this, Buffy” Wesley tells her. “And nor does Faith. Unless she comes quietly, the Council will see that other measures are enacted.”
Giles can’t help a bitter smile. “Because that worked out so well last time!”
Wesley glares. “We’ll be better prepared this time.” To Faith, he adds, “I’m sorry to say the Council can make things extremely difficult for you if you try to evade capture. You could end up a wanted criminal in every country on earth and there are military and mystical means of capture if all else fails.”
Faith’s gaze flickers to Giles. He confirms Wesley’s words with a brief nod.
“Look” Buffy tries. “I’m not about to have a Yay Faith parade but you can’t just deport her in the middle of the night while she’s injured and lock her up somewhere and do God knows what to her with no-one except you knowing where she is! Don’t you realise how twisted that is?”
“The Council’s orders are –”
“No” Buffy cuts him off. “I’m through with orders. I’m through with your council treating us like pieces on a chessboard.” She folds her arms. “I quit.”
Wesley stares at her in frank astonishment. “The slayer can’t quit. The world needs –”
“I didn’t say I quit slaying. I’m quitting the Council and quitting taking orders from them. I’ve had nothing but grief from any of you people except Giles and even he’s not one of you anymore.”
Wesley turns to Giles. “Talk to her.”
Giles allows himself another smile. He replies, “I’ve nothing to add. Buffy said it all.”
Wesley wilts, but, turning back to Buffy he manages, “You have a duty to obey the Council. We have the resources to –”
“To what? Steal my powers? To get in my way? And now you want to take Faith? Like I said, I quit. When a new slayer comes along, she can do what she wants, but until then, they can go play croquet or something.” She looks at Giles. “Croquet’s a thing, right?”
Giles nods. Behind Buffy, Faith is watching all this expressionlessly, but she is more alert than she has seemed so far. “Damn B” she mutters. “And here I thought I was the rebel.”
Wesley stares coldly at Buffy. “This is mutiny.”
Buffy frowns. “I prefer to think of it as graduation.” She turns to her sister-slayer. “Faith, you with me?”
Faith slowly sits up and, leaning awkwardly to the side, wraps Buffy in a one-armed hug. Giles doesn’t miss the way Buffy tenses but he suspects Wesley does. Without speaking, Faith releases Buffy and reaches for the almost empty bag of blood at her bedside, lifts it from its stand. Buffy stares at her but Faith doesn’t meet her gaze. Gripping the blood carefully in one hand she shifts herself to the edge of the bed and stares at Wesley until he cottons on to what’s happening.
“Oh!” He wheels the chair over and helps her into it. Buffy finally shakes off shock to say, “Faith, wait –”
“Sorry B” Faith offers her a sad smile. “I think I’ll take what the tweed brigade’s got over jail. Probably more fun.” Her smile widens to a tired grin. “Hey, don’t worry about me. Good luck in college. Get wasted for me, will ya?” And then Wesley wheels her out the room and away.
Buffy steps forward to go after them, and Giles catches her arm. “Buffy, it’s her choice.”
“Yeah, which she’s making right after major trauma! That I inflicted.” Buffy turns to him. “Giles, we can’t let them take her.”
“No, we can’t” Giles agrees patiently. “But she can.”
“And, what, you think they’ll just make her all sunshiny again and let her go?”
“I’m hardly about to let her go and never see her again. I still have contacts in the Council; they’ll keep us informed.” Seeing that Buffy is still unconvinced, he adds, “She does have a point, Buffy; what’s the alternative? A prison couldn’t hold her and a prison sentence would likely be lengthier than what the Council have in mind. They do prefer for slayers to be in the field.”
Buffy relaxes just a fraction. “So they’ll let her go soon?”
“As soon as they deem her ready” Giles reassures her, hoping it is true.
Buffy says, “I guess you went back. They helped you, right?”
“They did.” Giles doesn’t mention that as a future watcher rather than a slayer or potential, his place in the organisation was very different, that he was an heir to their traditions rather than an instrument. After all, he can see no other choice. Faith in prison is a danger to the guards and the other prisoners, and no-one there would be able to help her because none of them would know the realities of her life. So far as Giles can tell, Faith has only truly trusted one person in her life besides the Mayor: her first watcher. The Council might yet be the best of a bad lot when it comes to helping the girl.
Besides which, Wesley is not wrong: the Council do have it within their power to bring legislative and mystical power down on Faith, to have her arrested wherever she runs, to bind her with magic, to send teams of trained killers after her. Better she goes willingly, showing them the best of her so that they show her the best of them.
And she did go willingly. And that isn’t something Giles is prepared to take away from her. He says, “It’s for the best, Buffy.”
“Right” she sounds not reassured, but resigned. Suddenly, she asks, “I just quit the council didn’t I?”
“You did” Giles confirms. “But I’m sure Wesley will accept you back if you…” He trails off at the look she’s giving him. “No. Well, err. Shall I drive you home?”
*****
“Well” says Ethan a few hours later, “at least she can tell Joyce Faith’s still alive. Just not where she is.” He smiles at Giles, looking deceptively harmless in his dressing gown, with his hair fluffy from the shower.
“We’ll know where she is soon enough.” Giles sits down heavily beside his partner on the sofa, a glass of scotch in hand. He adds, “Wherever she is, she’ll be with Wesley; I heard from him just now and he’s all set to return to the UK himself. With Buffy quitting the Council, Faith’s his only slayer.”
“Yes” Ethan muses. “Tell Buffy bravo from me, would you?”
“You can tell her yourself. I’m sure she’ll be around in summer.”
“Not going to her dad’s again?”
“Apparently not” Giles frowns as he lifts his glass with a somewhat papery rustle, then sets it on the coffee table and extracts a charred scroll from his pocket. “Blast. I meant to give this to Buffy. I’ll have to go over tomorrow.”
“What is it?” Ethan frowns, then seeing the diploma, shakes his head at it. “The exam board could have just printed her a new one, you know.”
“I just thought it would be a nice gesture. She certainly has earnt it.”
“I suppose so.”
“Yes. That school was hell for her, even without the pun.”
Ethan shrugs. “School always is.”