Title: The Graduates
Written For: Richard
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All familiar characters and locations remain the property of Joss
Whedon and Mutant Enemy and anyone else who has a stake in them.
Spoilers: End of BtVS S3.
The Graduates
The night after Graduation
“Hey mom, it’s me.”
“Buffy, thank God you’re all right! I was so worried! Is everyone OK? Did
you… win?”
“Yeah, mom, we’re OK. We took the Mayor out. He turned into a big snake, and
now he’s lots of little bits of snake. But everyone’s OK. Shaken up, but
OK.”
That’s not true, thought Buffy. Everyone’s not OK. Students, maybe dozens of
students, and staff, are dead. We don’t even know how many, let alone who.
None of my friends are dead. Is that really all that matters to me?
“Thank goodness for that, because Buffy I heard about the explosion… CNN are
describing it as a terrorist attack, but was that the Mayor?”
“Um… no mom, that was us.”
“Buffy, you blew up the school again? Isn’t that dangerous? I really don’t
want this sort of thing to become a habit.”
“Well, technically last time I didn’t blow up the school, just the
gymnasium, and that was burnt rather than blown up, but… it was the only way
of stopping the Mayor. He was a gigantic snake demon… thing. Kinda unstoppable
without some major firepower.”
“Well, so long as you were careful.”
Joyce paused, then continued,
“You’re not going to blow up UC Sunnydale are you?”
Buffy smiled, suppressing a giggle.
“No plans just yet.”
“Good.” A pause. “Does this mean I can come home now?”
“Yeah. You can come home.”
“I’m sorry I had to put you through this, mom, but you understand that I had
to… I couldn’t…”
“Buffy, I have been so terribly worried. You can’t begin to know….”
Joyce’s voice began to crack.
“I’ve not slept a wink since you sent me away. You don’t know how hard it
is, knowing you’re in such danger, and not being able to do anything about it,
not even being able to be near you.”
“I’m sorry”, Buffy breathed.
“Don’t you ever do this to me again, Buffy . I don’t care how dangerous it
is. I’m not going to go away again when you’re facing this kind of danger.
Do you understand that?”
“Yes, mom. I understand.”
***
Xander lay on his bed, pondering, trying to ignore the sounds of his parents
rowing below.
Over. High School is over. In the most emphatic way possible. Blown up over.
It was funny. He’d always expected the end of school to be a moment of great
joy – and OK, it was a moment of joy, what with averting the Apocalypse,
blowing up the Mayor, not getting eaten and seeing Principle Snyder being eaten
– but now? He felt strangely empty.
His whole life up to now – well almost all of it – had been defined around
school. Most of it, true, had been bone-crunchingly awful, but still it had been
his life. And it had also provided most of the things, the people, who had made
life bearable. Willow. Jesse. He felt a twinge of pain, as he thought about
Jesse – it seemed a lifetime ago, but they had been like that – hanging out,
kicking balls around in the yard, talking geek talk, sitting in the Bronze not
dancing with girls… had he really forgotten him that quickly, with everything
else that was going on? Then Buffy of course, and the moment his life changed
when he met her on her first day at Sunnydale High. He recalled, not without a
tinge of bitterness, his fumbling attempts to woo her, and the way she was so
totally blind to his interest, and the way he was so totally blind to her lack
of interest. And the horror and the danger and the death and the unbelievably
close bonds of friendship that meeting her resulted in.
Yeah, it had been his life. And that part of his life was over, and he had no
idea in hell what came next. ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’
Spaceman, superhero, crime fighter. Not like my father. Beyond that, no clue.
Buffy, Willow and Oz were all off to college, which when it comes down to it is
pretty much like school. But as for him? ‘Wo uld you like fries with that?’
A knot formed in his stomach. Would they still be able to carry on the same as
before, would their friendships ever be the same again? Sure, they’d still see
each other, and the others would still say “Hey, Xand, good to see ya, how ya
doing?”, and they’d still send Christmas and Hannukah cards, but would they
actually have anything in common anymore? He wished he could reassure himself
that they would.
So, what next for Alexander Lavelle Harris?
Road trip. That’s what. See the good ‘ol US of A. Take in some of that
purple mountain majesty. Maybe that’ll give me the perspective I need to deal
with the rest of it. For now, that can all take a break.
***
Deep within the shattered ruin of Sunnydale High School, a piece of ceiling
finally gave up the thankless task of clinging to the remnants of a wall, and
crashed onto the mound of rubble below. Smaller lumps of rock ground together
and fell through cracks in the wreckage. Disturbed, a large lump of concrete
tumbled from its precarious position atop another lump of concrete, and toppled
onto a piece of twisted metal, creating a loud clattering that was heard by no
living thing.
From even deeper within the bowels of the derelict school, a low, tormented,
groaning sound made its way up through the rubble, though this too remained
unheard by the living world…
***
Three days after Graduation
Oz and Willow lay next to each other, panting heavily. Willow leaned into Oz,
snuggling up to him, and he put his arm round her, caressing her hair.
“Oh, Oz, Oz, so good,” she breathed.
“Yeah. You too,” replied the Were.
They lay there for some while, silent, gently stroking each other. Then Willow
looked closely into Oz’s face.
”Why are we still alive, Oz?”
Oz paused before answering.
“Because Buffy blew up the Mayor, I’m guessing.”
“I mean… why are we still alive? When so many others aren’t? Larry,
Harmony – I mean OK, so not necessarily people I liked all that much but…
Oz, I don’t even know how many, let alone who they all were. It could be
dozens! And all of ‘em had people who cared about them as much as I care about
you and… they’re gone and their parents are going through hell and not even
understanding how or why their children died, and we’re still here and lying
in each others arms and how is that fair? Why not us, Oz? Why not me?”
Oz was silent for a minute before responding, Willow’s expectant gaze fixed
upon him.
“I don’t think I’ve got an answer to that one, Will. But I do know that
I’m glad you are alive. And that I am. Not that I’m…” Oz searched for
the words, unaccustomed to trying to speak so many at a time, “…glad that
it’s them and not us. But th e way I see it that choice never existed. We did
what we could and so did they.”
“So you mean that we’re better than them?” Willow exclaimed, aghast, “We
survived and they didn’t, ‘cos their efforts weren’t good enough to keep
them alive and ours were? Oh look, ha ha, we’re alive and you’re dead,
‘cos we’re stronger and cleverer than you?”
“I really don’t think that’s what I was saying.”
Willow sighed, and lay back down.
“I know Oz, it’s just…”
A sudden chill came through the room. Willow shuddered, a strange expression
coming over her face.
“I know, Wi…”
Oz was interrupted as Willow turned over on top of him, her hands round his
neck, her face distorted in a feral snarl.
“IT’S JUST THAT I WANT TO RIP YOUR GUTS OUT AND SPREAD THEM OVER THE WALLS
OF MY ROOM!!!” she screamed. Oz choked, and struggled desperately to break
free from Willow’s stranglehold. Then, moments later, her grip relaxed, and
she fell limp, a confused, cross- eyed look on her face. Oz pushed her off of
him and clutched his throat, gagging and retching, till finally he could breathe
relatively normally. Then he turned to Willow, still out cold, and shook her,
trying to wake her.
“Willow! Willow!”
She came to with a start and a cry of anguish, then looked up towards Oz. He was
relieved to see that her expression seemed normal, no longer twisted by whatever
it was that had seized her moments ago.
“Oh God Oz, Oz, I’m so sorry, are you OK!” she cried.
“I’m OK. Willow, are you OK? What was that?”
“I don’t know… one minute I was talking to you and the next… there was
something inside me, and I was attacking you and screaming at you, but it
wasn’t me… I was aware of everything, I was still in there, but… oh God
Oz, I guess I must have been possessed by something! Oz, I’m so sorry!”
“It’s OK. We’d best go see Giles right now.”
“Giles, yeah.”
***
A typical Southern Californian s ummer’s day. The sun shone bright and hot
in the clear sky, the air was still. The folks of Sunnydale made their way about
their business in light, summery clothes, nonetheless sweating profusely,
welcoming the relief of their air-conditioned offices and malls.
But deep within the ruins of Sunnydale High, a chill wind blew. Dust swirled and
eddied, sometimes momentarily forming hideous, monstrous shapes before
dissipating again in random chaos. Disembodied voices howled and groaned. And
from time to time, were anyone around to see it, they might catch a faint hint
of a zephyr swirling out from the building and whooshing away into the air
beyond…
***
A week after Graduation
“I am the resurrection and the life, says the Lord. Whoever believes in me,
though he may die, yet will he live for ever.”
The Minister intoned the words of scripture as they lowered the coffin into the
ground. Scott fought back the tears. He had not known Larry long, not well, but
their relationship over the past couple of months had been deep and intense.
They had stood side by side at Graduation Day, both terrified, neither really
understanding what the hell was going on, any of it, but trusting implicitly
that when Buffy said something weird was going on, it was. Larry also seemed to
have a lot of faith in Harris – he knew Larry was gay before even he did
himself, he said.
Can it really have happened? Was he imagining it? The Mayor turning into an
enormous snake. All of them, charging down the school steps to fight a bunch of
vampires. The news channels, national and local, were all putting it down as a
terrorist attack. They were speculating as to whether it was Islamic terrorists
or some survivalist crazy like McVeigh.
But he had seen Larry go down, seen the fucking monster biting into his
boyfriend’s neck. There was no fucking way he’d imagined that.
Scott looked over to Larry’s parents, standing by the grave, his mother’s
face twisted with grief, his father placing a consoling arm round her, his own
face red with tears. It had been good of them to invite him to their son’s
funeral – him and several other of his closest school-friends. Larry had been
fortunate in that his parents had been very accepting of his homosexuality.
Too fucking bad he hadn’t been more fortunate in living in a town overrun with
vampires with an evil psychopath for a Mayor.
They were throwing dirt onto the coffin, and the gravediggers were coming into
place, starting to shovel earth onto Larry’s remains. Scott gazed
uncomprehendingly as he saw the first person with whom he had known love
disappearing under a pile of dirt.
Suddenly his attention was caught by a disturbance. Somewhere near the grave
there was shouting, scuffling, expressions of surprise. He looked over, to where
some of his fellow-High-School graduates were standing. He saw Pete, being held
back by the others, seemingly gripp ed with rage, flailing at another boy whom
he could not make out. Then Pete yelled out, and no way Scott could miss it this
time.
“THIS WAS YOU!!! EVIL SPAWN OF HELL! YOU SHALL JOIN HIM IN HIS GRAVE! DIE!
DIE! DIE!”
And he watched in horror as Pete broke free and, clawing at the other boy –
Miles he was called, he realised – pushed him back and sent him tottering
backwards, falling into the open grave, to gasps of horror from the attendant
mourners.
Scott snapped from his reveries and rushed forward, and with the help of a
couple of the others, succeeded in wrestling Pete to the ground, before he could
do any more damage. Pete flopped limp on the ground, and for a moment Scott
worried he might be seriously hurt – but a few moments later, he came to,
first confused, then horrified and desperately apologetic for what he had done
– a totally different person from the crazed attacker he had been just moments
before.
They had pulled Miles from Larry’s grave. H e was OK, thank God, just a little
shaken up. Pete was looking up to him, saying, “Man, I’m so sorry, I don’t
know what came over me,” and so forth, and then apologising to Larry’s
parents.
OK, so looks like the weirdness hasn’t ended with Graduation, though
Scott to himself.
***
“So, let me guess. No sooner than we have reduced the Mayor’s Apocalyptic
ambitions to a pile of rubble and rotting snake meat, but some new and hideous
evil has arisen from the depths of the Hellmouth, requiring you to summon me
back from my well-earned and much-needed holiday?”
Giles pointedly emphasised the ‘well-earned and much-needed’ bit.
“Sorry, Giles!” said Willow. “We tried to avoid calling you when we heard
you were on holiday… at first we thought what happened to me was an isolated
case of possession, and I did some protection spells, and I’ve been carrying
round some protective herbs… and nothing’s happened to me since… but
we’ve been hearing reports of weird things happening all over town!”
“Weird things, well that would hardly be an unprecedented phenomenon in
Sunnydale now, would it?”
“But there’s a pattern to it, Giles, “ Buffy chipped in, “it always
seems to be Sunnydale High students from our year… the ones that graduated
with us. They get possessed, they yell out crazy stuff, and they attack people
nearby. One of the kids who was at Larry’s funeral. And there was an incident
in the mall the other day, Cordy was telling me about it…”
“Cordelia speaks to you these days? How is she, anyway?” asked Giles.
“Peachy. Well, there seems to have been a bit of a post-Graduation glow so
that she no longer sees me as her own personal nemesis. She’s gone off to LA
now to make her fortune.”
A far-away look came into Buffy’s eyes as she mentioned Los Angeles.
“I’m sorry, do go on.”
“Yeah, well there were a few of the Cordettes in the mall, in a
post-Apocalypse-halting shopping spree.. . and suddenly Cho-Ann goes crazy and
starts tearing up the designer dresses. Which is really not the sort of thing
you expect from a Cordette, even if she is possessed.”
“And there’s been fights breaking out at the Bronze, too,“ said Xander.
“I mean, more than just your usual Saturday night frat boy stuff. The same
thing, people suddenly lashing out without any apparent reason, doing the
crazy.”
Giles sighed. “Well, it sounds like it might be something serious. Now Willow,
why don’t you start from the beginning and tell me exactly what it was you
experienced, a far as you can remember it? Oz, you fill in how it seemed from
your perspective too. Yours is the only one of these cases where we seem to be
able to get a first hand report.”
Willow and Oz described the incident of a few nights before, Willow blushing as
she described where they were when it happened, after which Giles said,
“Well, it sounds like a fairly standard case of possession, if there i s such
a thing. What is unusual is, as you say, the pattern of occurrences, and the
fact that this phenomenon appears to be targeting such a specific group. The
fact that this is happening so soon after Graduation cannot be a coincidence. So
I guess we look into it. Which means, “ Giles smiled slightly sadistically,
“That we can start by you helping me unpack all my books from the boxes we put
them in last week and arranging them properly on my shelves.”
***
“So Buffy, how are you? I mean, really?” whispered Willow as they worked on
stacking another shelf.
“I…I’m OK. I mean it’s been hard. It still is. Part of me can’t
believe he’s really left… I mean I sent him to hell and he came back, so
when he’s just over in LA, it’s hard to believe that he’s really gone for
good.”
Buffy sighed. “But, Angel was right. Much as I miss him, God that’s an
understatement, him not being here is like having my heart ripped out every
day… but we couldn’t have carried on the w ay we were, I couldn’t have
taken it. The being with him but… not being able to be with him. I don’t
miss that. When I think back to how we were, the, the torture we put ourselves
through, I sometimes wonder how we could ever have been crazy enough to do
that.”
Buffy smiled wickedly. “Still, if I need to cheer myself up I only need to
remember the Mayor eating Principle Snyder. That was way cool!”
Willow giggled. “Yeah, and, wow, the way we took the Mayor down, the whole
school fighting like that, and the school going poof, that was…wow!”
“Yeah.” Buffy changed the subject, whispering conspiratorially, “So, you
and Oz. How is that? Are you…?”
Willow giggled, flushing red, and nodded. “It’s… nice. I mean, nicer than
I’d ever imagined. He’s…” Willow left the sentence hanging. “Though
there’s still a part of me, which is definitely my mother talking, that thinks
I’m being extremely wicked and I’m going to Jew hell for it. But we are so
close now, I’m beginn ing to think…”
“He could be the one?”
Willow nodded. “Maybe.”
Buffy sighed. “Well, at least your boyfriend didn’t turn evil. Gotta count
that as a plus!”
***
They had finally finished the unpacking, and were sat round Giles’ living-room
table scanning some of his most relevant volumes. Xander looked up.
“Wait a minute. This thing is affecting Sunnydale graduates. That’s us,
right? It’s already affected Willow, I don’t know if its one of these
lightning-doesn’t strike in the same place twice things, and anyway Willow’s
got her stinky herbs, but how do we know it’s not going to hit any of us? And
is there anything we can do to prevent it?”
“Gosh, yeah, I wouldn’t like to think what’d happen if I went all The
Shining, even for a moment,“ agreed Buffy.
“Heeeeeere's Buffy!” quipped Xander, miming an axe murder.
“I can do some protection spells,” said Willow, “They’re not an absolute
guarantee, but they should help a bit.”
Giles took off his glasses. “It would be helpful to know if there are any
other common factors to the possessions, besides the possessed all being recent
Sunnydale High School graduates. From what you’ve all said, there may be some
association with intense emotional moments, like the funeral, or what Willow
said about discussing the battle and the students who had died. I admit this is
somewhat grasping at straws, and the shopping mall incident doesn’t seem to
fit this pattern.”
“I dunno, “ said Buffy, “Clothes-shopping can be quite an emotional thing
for a girl. Especially those girls.”
“Maybe it’s all the ghosts from the school,” suggested Oz. The others
turned and looked at him.
“Actually, you may very well have a point there,” said Giles, again taking
off and cleaning his glasses, “There must be any number of students who have
died a violent death there, including not a few at the battle last week, which
creates prime conditions for ghos ts to abound, and now all these restless
spirits have been further disturbed by their… their haunt, quite literally,
being blown sky high!”
“Not to mention a Hellmouth still lurking under it all, spewing out it’s
mean energies,” added Willow.
“So now all these ghosts are wandering round Sunnydale causing general mayhem.
But why us? Why the graduates?” asked Buffy.
“Well, it kind of figures,“ said Xander. “For one, we’re the ones who
made it out. And for another, we’re the ones that blew the school up and made
them homeless.”
“And the whole thing, the leaving-school thing and the
narrowly-averting-an-apocalypse-at-the-cost-of-the-death-of-a-bunch-of-our-schoolmates
thing hasn’t exactly left some of us in the most stable state,” said Willow.
“It all adds up to a veritable tinderbox of possession potential,” concluded
Giles. “The question is, how do we stop it?”
***
It was a busy Saturday afternoon, and shoppers thronged the central Su nnydale
mall, seeking out the latest in summer-wear, or the cool new music CDs or
computer games, or hardware for a spot of DIY.
Karen Addison, newly-graduated from Sunnydale High, was clothes-shopping,
enjoying the summer sun, and the relaxation afforded by the summer vacation.
She’d have to get a summer job soon to save money from college, but right now
she needed the break. She needed the distraction of the latest colours and
styles to take her mind off the awful events of last week. Get the hideous
images out of her mind. They weren’t real. They can’t have been real. The
eclipse and the terrorist attack had made their minds play tricks. The snake,
the… monsters, seeing people die around her, screaming out in horror… it
can’t have happened. None of it. She tried, but failed, to shut her mind from
the visions assailing her mind, seemingly from every direction.
She shuddered, placing her hands over her ears. Not. Real.
She broke away from the crowds, and turned off into the multi-storey car park,
and started up the stairs. She couldn’t quite say why she was walking up the
stairs. It just seemed like the thing to do. Or even, it seemed like her body
was doing it of its own accord, without any act of will on her part, but she
didn’t see any particular reason not to go along with it.
She carried on, up and up, thinking idly as she did about her days at Sunnydale
High. Good times, bad times, weird times. She’d got good grades, had a place
at North-Western, she’d made friends, she’d done OK at dating, though she
was single right now. She’d had her fair share of teen troubles of course...
and then there was the weirdness. The disappearing students. The bodies found
around the school with alarming regularity. The brutal death of Principle
Flutie. And all those unexplained things, those things that defied explanation,
the things that can’t have happened. That did not happen, whatever her memory
told her. And above all, the graduation. S ome of her friends had placed a
weapon in her hand and told her she had to fight monsters. It was a joke. A sick
joke. A dream. A…
She was on the roof, and she was walking towards the edge. Part of her mind
seemed to be somewhat worried about this, but she didn’t see any burning need
to do anything about it.
She heard herself screaming. “DEAD! ALL DEAD! ALL ROTTING, DECAYING CORPSES!
WE ALL SHOULD HAVE DIED!”
And then she felt the wind rushing around her, and it finally occurred to her to
panic as her mind seemed to snap back to itself, but moments later the ground
reared up massively in front of her, and after that she knew no more.
***
“You sure I have to wear these herbs round my neck? Xander’s and Oz’s
don’t smell anywhere near as bad.”
“I made them extra strong for you. Like you say, Slayer strength n’all. We
don’t want you getting all possessed. Also, if it’s emotiony-based, you’ve
got the whole Angel leaving scenario to deal with on top of everything else. So
we can’t be too careful.”
Buffy pouted. “So I’m little-miss-potentially-unstable around here now? Oh,
well. Good thing I’m not looking to start dating again any time soon.”
Giles looked up from his paper, and added, his tone grave, “Maybe you should
all be wearing the extra-smelly herbs. It says here that a new Sunnydale
Graduate, Karen Addison, has committed suicide. She threw herself off the roof
of the mall car park.”
“Oh, God,” said Willow quietly.
“Now, the article does not give us enough information to tell us whether this
incident followed the same pattern as the other possessions, but it seems she
was a successful student with everything to live for; this is unlikely to be a
coincidence.”
“I think I knew her, had history class with her.” Whispered Buffy.
“Careful, emotions!” said Willow, urgently. Then, after a pause. “Sorry. I
know you can’t just… but…”
“It’s OK, Willow,” said Buffy softly.
“Sounds like we’d better get this ritual done right away!” said Xander.
“And speaking of which, is there a reason we’re not doing this for all of
the students in our year?”
“We’d have to find them, “ replied Giles, “and we’d have to convince
them. And meanwhile the possessions would be continuing. It is more pressing
that we stop this at its source as soon as possible.”
Willow hastened to prepare the spell, drawing chalk circles round Buffy, Xander
and Oz, lighting candles round the room, and burning sandalwood incense, then,
standing between the three, she intoned, “Athene, Goddess of Wisdom, defend
the souls of those I name, who stand within these circles of power, from the
assaults of the restless dead! Buffy Ann Summers. Alexander Lavelle Harris.
Daniel Osbourne. So mote it be!”
A light, warm, breeze, seemed to pass through the room, and whirl round the
faces of the three subjects of the spell, brushing and warming their faces. The
candles flickered, but did not expire, and then the wind stopped. Willow,
smiling, turned the lights back on and blew out the candles.
“It worked?” asked Xander.
“I think so…” said Willow. “It’s not absolute protection, but it
should improve all of our chances. But still make sure you think happy
thoughts.”
“Principle Snyder got eaten!” said Xander. “Still not tired of that
one!”
Giles cleared his throat. “On the matter of stopping this, I may have made
some progress. We suspect the problem is ghosts from the school. Now, we could
of course attempt a mass exorcism, but that course would be fraught with peril.
We have no idea just how many ghosts are lurking in the school, or how long
they’ve been they’re, and I don’t believe either Willow’s power or mine,
or the two of us combined, is up to tackling something on this scale.”
“However, my researches suggest that it may well be that these spirits are
being more than usually disturbed by the Hellmouth as a result of the des
truction of the school…that the force of the explosion may have dislodged the
various mystical forces in the area, disturbed the balance, so that the
Hellmouth is now, basically, er…”
“Leaky?” suggested Buffy.
“Yes, leaking is probably the best word for it, leaking malignant energy that
is further stirring up the ghosts, whose rest has already been disturbed by the
explosion.”
“So you mean, we’re responsible for what’s happening? We caused Karen
Addison’s death?” asked Buffy sharply, appalled.
“Buffy, if we hadn’t done what we did, probably all of us would have died,
Karen included.” It was Xander who spoke.
“Collateral damage,” murmured Oz.
“That doesn’t make it sound any better,” said Buffy.
“So, “ Willow said, “What we need to do is seal the leak, eh? I think that
should be do-able, if it’s not too big a leak.”
“We can work on the necessary rituals together, “ agreed Giles. “This
will, of course, be a dangerous procedure. Buf fy, we shall need you along, it
is possible that some of the forces at work within the school may take physical
form and attack us. Then again, there may also be, uh, heavy lifting involved in
getting there.”
“I’ll be lift-and-shift gal!”
“Xander and Oz, however, I feel would be better off staying behind.”
“No way Willow’s going in there without me.” Objected Oz.
“I understand your desire to be with her, but I’m not sure exactly how
you’d be able to help, and there’s no point in risking more of us than is
necessary.”
“Look,” said Xander. “This thing is attacking people’s minds, right?
Playing on fears and bad memories, yadda yadda. It sounds like a sort of
mystical PTSD. Seems to me that the more of us are their, supporting each other,
the stronger we’re all going to be in fighting it.”
“Xander has a point, “ agreed Giles. “Very well, we all go.”
***
“It certainly doesn’t look very… inviting,” commented Giles.
They stoo d in the schoolyard outside the old school building. The air around
the ruin was thick with dust, leaving an ugly, acrid smell even at this
distance. Fey winds whistled and howled around the building, even though the
weather just beyond was, as ever, dry, hot and sunny. An air of malignancy that
was almost tangible seemed to hang over the rubble, that all of them could
sense. Buffy remembered the night in May when the school was surrounded by
swarms of bees, keeping them out. The night when Angel, for just a few moments,
almost seemed to be Angel again, when…
Stop it, Buffy. Bad thoughts. No looking backy thoughts.
“Well, I guess here goes nothing or something like that,” said Xander.
Summoning up their courage, they walked purposefully and steadily towards the
wreckage.
Giles gave a final brief as they approached. “Remember, we’re not here to
fight, or exorcise, the spirits, or anything else for that matter. We fight only
if we have to. We stick together. We go in, we get to the library, we do the
sealing spell, and we get out. All clear?” They all nodded.
“I should go ahead, “ said Buffy. “If there’s any big uglies in our way,
or even just falling masonry, it’s better if it meets me first.”
“Fine, but stay close,” said Giles.
“And if you start feeling all shuddery and eeeyyyyhh, “ said Willow, get
back to us quick!”
As they entered through what used to be the main steps, now no more than a pile
of debris leading to an overhanging piece of ceiling, the wind buffeted them,
and they had to shield their eyes from the flying dust and grit, and pull their
garments up over their nose and mouth to protect them from it. They could hear
groaning from ahead and below, and to each of the former students, it seemed to
be speaking to them personally. They closed their ears to it, looked to each
other for reassurance, and trudged gingerly onwards, and into the midst of the
ruin, where semblances of corridor remained. Oz squeezed Willow’s hand, who in
turn squeezed Xander’s. Buffy walked ahead, with Giles next, but she took
regular glances backwards to her friends for reassurance.
This place was a nightmare, though Xander, an unending stream of
humiliation and failure.
So many dead. So many who might still be alive if I’d been a better Slayer.
Bodies slumped around the frat room. Drained of blood, looks of terror on their
faces. Ridiculous cartoons still playing mockingly on the TV set, almost as if
they were a gloating, triumphal message left behind by the vampires. And there
was nothing I could do.
This place is coooool, man. You could have a freaked-out Goth night here!
They wandered on, their way soon shrouded in gloom, but for a few beams of
sunlight pouring through from gaping holes in the roof. They were not far from
the library when, rounding a corner, a sudden gust of wind assaulted them,
blowing everyone other than Buffy backwards ag ainst the wall – she braced
herself against a stray block of concrete, and steeled herself against the icy
blast. The gust passed, concluding with a deep, despairing moaning sound that
seemed to come from all around them, and, gasping and spluttering, the Scoobies
picked themselves up and tried to see through the dust to Buffy.
Buffy turned round, but could not see the others. “Guys?” she said, then,
“LOOK OUT!” as above her the ceiling caved in and collapsed to the floor.
She dived forwards just in time, landing awkwardly on the uneven floor. When the
rubble finally settled enough for her to see and breathe again, she saw that the
way behind her was cut off by the fallen detritus.
“Willow! Xander! Giles! Oz!” she called out, struggling to make herself
heard above the supernatural storm that raged around her. She heard, in return,
faint voices calling her name… Willow definitely, and at least one male
voice…
**
They heard her voice calling from the oth er side of the newly-fallen rubble.
They struggled to maintain their footing, and to breathe. Finally they managed
to work their way to each other and clutch onto each other. They cried out
Buffy’s name as loud as they could, letting her know they were there.
“Someone ought to get help!” shouted Giles above the din.
“We can’t leave Buffy here!” cried Willow.
“We mustn’t get separated!” said Xander.
“Let’s see if we can start working a way through to her!” said Giles, and
bracing themselves as best they could, they started picking away at the mound of
concrete and metal that lay between them and the Slayer.
**
The spirits circled round her head, whooshing and whirling. She could almost see
them, and she could hear their voices clearly and distinctly, addressing her.
Let us in!
We want you Buffy!
“Glad someone does! Go ‘way! I have stinky herbs!”
Stinky herbs won’t save you.
They didn’t save Miss Calender.
He snapped her neck right in two.
Chased her round the school. Toyed with her.
She was waiting for you to come.
‘Buffy will save me’ – the last in a mock imitation of Jenny’s
voice.
Want us to show you where it happened? Where he killed her?
“SHUDDUP! SHUDDUP! SHUDDUP!” screamed Buffy, clasping her hands to her ears.
She could feel the spirits probing at her mind, pushing at the edges of the
defences Willow had erected.
**
“Don’t listen to them!” yelled Giles.
”Shouldn’t we have wax in our ears like Sinbad?” asked Xander
“Odysseus!” shouted Giles back. “And I don’t think that would help much
in this case!”
They clutched onto each other for warmth and reassurance, focusing on each
others’ presence, and trying to ignore the voices murmuring in their ears. The
spirits assailed them, but they held on, Willow’s mystical protection holding
firm. Gradually the whistling of the wind began to die down and, one by one, the
voices speaking to Xander, Oz and Willow began to disperse.
**
Remember me?, asked a high pitched nasal voice. Horrified, Buffy saw
Principle Flutie in front of her, with one arm, one leg, and half his face eaten
away.
You never saw me like this, did you?
Buffy gaped at the apparition.
A student walked along the corridor towards her, maggots protruding from his eye
sockets.
Hey there, Class Protector! Good job!
He disappeared into the wall. Another approached, a blonde, jock type with a big
beaming smile. He walked right up to her, then vamped out, causing her to cry
out in alarm.
You’re never going to get away from this place you know.
She drew out a stake and plunged it into where its heart should be, but the
stake just went through thin air, and the vamp student vanished. But the voices
continued. Buffy crouched on the ground, curled in foetal position, clutching at
the packet of herbs round her neck, feeling her control slipping moment by
moment.
We’ll always be with you. For all eternity.
You might think you’ve moved on, got away.
But we’ll always haunt you.
Wherever you turn, whoever you meet, whichever face you look into…
We’ll always be looking back at you!
Buffy shuddered, and pulled herself up off the ground, a strange, eldritch look
on her face. She drew herself up to her full height, turning to gaze all around
her, letting the wind whoo sh past her, letting the dust blow into her eyes,
nose, mouth and hair.
“You know what?” she said, “I think I’m about done with this.”
“I get the metaphor. High School is Hell. We all have our demons. Deep-seated
traumas with us for the rest of our lives, yadda yadda. Subtle, much?”
The voices continued to howl at her, but wavered somewhat, uncertain.
“Well, newsflash! I finished High School. Got out. Alive. All of us did.
It’s over!
It’ll never be over!
“Regrets? Had a few. Things I could have done better? People I could have
saved? Sure!”
“But I’m dealing. We’re dealing. And we’re not going to let a few
pissed-off ghosts pull us back into it! Now if you’re quite finished?”
The spirits let out a vast, high, wailing sound, and then a huge burst of wind
blew past Buffy, away down the corridor, forcing her to grasp hold of a
protruding metal rod. And then it was gone, and all was quiet. Buffy started to
pull at the pieces of concrete between her and her friends.
“It’s OK guys. I don’t think they’ll be troubling us for a while. Gone
off to look for easier targets. Wanna come on and do that spell?”
***
“So, that’s it?” asked Xander. “No more angry spirits making Sunnydale
graduates do the wacky?”
They were once again gathered around Giles’ living room.
“Hopefully not,” replied the Watcher, cleaning his glasses. “The rituals
Willow and I performed should have staunched the malign energies that were
seeping from the Hellmouth. The spirits will still be there, of course, but
hopefully they’ll not be quite so…”
“Angry now?” suggested Willow.
“Quite. Of course, we shall have to wait and see if these possessions stop
now, but I am quite optimistic.”
“Well, that was one trip down memory lane I hope never to be repeating,”
said Xander. “Gotta say though, Buff, sounded like you had the scariest end of
the deal.”
“I shouldn’t have let myself get separated from you guys. That’s what gave
them a shot at me.”
“Wherein a lesson for all of us, I suspect,” Giles summed up.
Xander stood up. “Well, I for one am done with the reminiscing. So, if you
good people will excuse me, I was supposed to have started my road trip two days
ago, which means if I still want to drive through every state, I’d better get
packing!”
“And teaching your car to swim,” said Buffy brightly, but he didn’t seem
to hear.
“And I would rather like to be getting back to my holiday. In fact I rather
think I could do with a few weeks in England, there’s quite a few people I
could do with… reconnecting with.”
“Then who will watch me over summer?,” pouted Buffy.
“I’m sure you are quite capable of looking after yourself while I’m away.
You are not at High School any more, after all.”
“Thank fuck,” replied the Slayer, with feeling.
“What?”
THE END