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Chapter 23
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Paul Jeffries paced nervously in the tunnel outside Scoobie Central.  When Giles came within reach, he clutched at his arm, a desperate look on his face.  "They found Davina and her girls."
 
"Dear Lord!" Giles paled.  "How many?"
 
"Five.  Her own Potential, Shelly, and four others."  Jeffries wrung his hands in despair.  "For the life of me, I cannot see how they found them.  The safe house was in the middle of nowhere in the Colorado Rockies."
 
"Isn't Quentin still using the Council's seers?"  Giles pondered.
 
"Those few who remained loyal to him, yes.  Not the finest or most talented.  Athenea and her coven used a dimensional rift to escape when they first foresaw this debacle and before that avenue was closed down."
 
Giles gave his fellow former Watcher a speculative look. “Has a new Slayer been called?"  Giles prayed the unfortunate girl would be one of those still safely in hiding.
 
"Nieves says his girl, Daniela Santiago, was Chosen.  They left San Juan for Vieques as soon as we realized Travers had gone off the reservation.  There's less chance of them being discovered there. Too many military still around the main island to risk staying closer to home.  They had thought to hide in the rainforest, but as it's a national park, it would be right in the government’s backyard, so to speak. They decided on the move to one of the lesser islands.  There are more than a few hidden caves there."  Jeffries spoke in a clear but distracted voice. 
 
"At least we know that the PTB are still active if a girl has been Chosen," Giles sighed in relief.  He had begun to worry that the madhouse once known as planet Earth had been cut off and left to fend for itself.
 
"Do we?"  Leave it to Jeffries to douse the flame of hope with the water of reality.  "We have always assumed the passing on of the power involved active involvement of the Powers, but what if it isn't?  What if it was a process set in place early on that merely occurs automatically now?"
 
"I prefer to think we are not abandoned here," Giles admitted.  "The Deist worldview is not one that appeals to me.  Most things spiritual involve belief rather than proof.  I choose to believe.  To do otherwise is far too bleak for my tastes."
 
"Far be it from me to rain on your parade, Rupert."  Jeffries began to pace once more.  "We have the new Slayer and your girl in our arsenal, but both are rather useless at the moment.  One in God only knows what condition and held captive, the other in hiding and in fear for her life."  He shook his head, "Bleak days indeed."
 
***
 
Warren eyed the front door of the Party Box with narrowed eyes. 'Bitch thinks she's too good for me!'  He'd obsessed over Anya's flat turn down of his come-on all night.  He was important!  Lots of girls were begging for him to notice them!  He was a force to be reckoned with in the fight for humanity, for Pete's sake.  She should have been honored. The kinky chick should be coming onto him!
 
He had tried to find out all he could about this Anya Jenkins by using Internet search engines.  It was as if she had just popped into existence in 1998 from out of nowhere.  She’d graduated from Sunnydale High, but he couldn't find out where she had gone to school before that--or anything else for that matter.  There was something fishy going on with the girl. He really needed to get a blood sample to run that DNA test on her. 
 
"Whatcha doing, Warren?"  Mears jumped nearly out of his skin before turning around and threatening a slap at his minion. 
 
"Nothing that concerns you, monkey boy," he sneered at Andrew.
 
"Hey, that's not fair.  My summoning flying monkeys was wicked cool.  You make me sound like I'm in a circus."  Andrew sometimes wondered why he even hung around with Warren.  True, there were all the great sci-fi inventions the guy came up with and Warren always seemed to be so in control and confident.  Andrew followed Warren’s pointed stares at the Party Box store. "You planning a party?"
 
"Huh? Oh, no.  Met the owner the other night and just wondered how any business selling cheap crap like they sell can stay in business.  I mean, I can see sales a few times a year and for birthdays, but how do they make a profit?"
 
"I don't know.  They have plenty of cool, cheap gizmos and toys along with the party stuff.  I mean, they even have stuff from Red Dwarf you can't find just anywhere."
 
Warren rolled his eyes. "So you shop there regularly, Zamfir?" 
Andrew flinched at the reference to his pan flute playing that he once proudly used to summon demons, including his personal favorite: the aforementioned flying monkeys.  That was before anything demon was uncool of course. Now they were in the business of getting rid of demons, not summoning them.
 
"I shop.  They even have old party favors with a Babylon 5 theme!  You can't even find those on eBay." Andrew squirmed, as he often did when Warren turned his full attention on him.  "Besides, Anya's nice.  Her boyfriend likes the same comic books I do and she knows all the characters and never makes me feel like she thinks I'm being childish."
 
"Yeah, Harris.  Met him too."  Warren glanced at the Box.  "He was a good buddy of the Slayer once upon a time."
 
"I only met him once, but we got talking about Marvel versus DC and he was a cool guy."  Andrew smiled at the memory.  "So if you aren't planning a party, whatcha doing?"
 
"I'm wondering how I can get a blood sample out of the bitch behind the counter."
 
"Anya?  Why would you want that?" Andrew asked nervously.  He was actually kinda tired of bothering all the shopkeepers who had been decent towards him.
 
"Because, nimrod, I don't buy that she's just the girl next door, if you get my meaning," Warren had a look of single-minded obsession.  Oh, yeah, he was gonna prove the bitch wasn't normal. Teach her not to turn down a perfectly hot guy like Warren Mears.
 
***
 
“Are they going to knock you out and ship you up here too?” Dawn’s voice made it clear she was still quite unhappy at the way her own wishes had been subverted, even though she was finding herself enjoying the work at the refugee camp.
 
Tara chuckled, a sound that warmed Willow’s heart.  “N-n-o, not yet.  W–w-willow doesn’t think I’m up for trav-v-veling just y-yet.”  The stutter annoyed Tara to no end.  She had finally gotten past the stutter that was caused by nerves, only to have the residual effects of her injuries bring it back!  She felt as though something precious and hard won had been stolen from her.  “I n-n-need to g-get off the phone n-n-now.  Here’s W-w-will.  L-l-love you, Dawnie.”
 
Willow took the proffered phone from her girl’s hand before Tara could drop it.  Her strength was improving, but Tara’s endurance was still minimal.  Small steps frustrated both of them, but at least there was improvement.
 
“Hey, Dawnie?  You talking to me yet?”
 
“Well, I didn’t hang up,” Dawn sounded friendlier than in previous calls.  Small steps there too.
 
“How are things really going up there?  I’d ask Angel, but…you know how little Giles trusts him and Angel was always good at the kinda-sorta sharing method when we needed to be total in the know sharing.”  Willow well remembered when Angel was part of the team.  How many times had he given only partial warnings or none at all? 
 
“Things are going okay,” Dawn felt important being asked to give a report they could rely upon.  They could have asked to talk to Cordy, but they asked for her instead.  Maybe they didn’t think she was just a dumb kid after all.  “We’ve got more refugees than we can handle, but there are plans to start sending new ones south once that gets set up.  Nick Perkins is already in Mexico setting things up with this guy who runs a small cruise line.  I think that will help take the pressure off here.”
 
“Pressure?”  Willow furrowed her brow in concern.  “What’s the problem?”
 
“Nothing you wouldn’t expect.  Lots of different kinds of demons all with different diets and habits all living on top of one another.  It gets…interesting at times.”  Dawn smiled, remembering the negotiations between a clan of F’Nakins and Durishens just the previous day.  Both had claimed the same section of the cave they had been assigned.  The F’Nakins said they had to have a northern exposure to do their religious rituals and the Durishens, who had no religion, said they needed the minerals that dripped down the walls to help with fertility.  “I never knew demons were all so different!  It’s kinda like the U.N. in a way, and I never trained to be a diplomat.”
 
Willow smiled, “I’ll bet you’ll have tons of skills when things get back to normal.  Are you learning some of the languages?”
 
Dawn had shown an early gift for demon languages that had Giles all atwitter at the thought of the girl’s aptitude for work with the Council once things were set to rights.
 
“A few.  Of course, some of them you can only read.  The human vocal chords can’t pronounce some of them,” Dawn stated proudly.  It made her feel special that Willow was treating her as someone with skills to offer.  She wasn’t just the Slayer’s kid sister, former Key with no purpose any longer--even if they had manhandled her into migration.
 
“I found out I’m pretty good with babies,” Dawn giggled.  “Connor is a cutie-pie.  You’d never guess his parents were two of the worst vampires in, like, ever.”
 
“Yeah, how about that?!  My brain went kaplooie when I heard that Angel was a daddy.  Darla was dusted years ago, but the whole thing with her coming back human, then getting vamped again and becoming a mommy is unbelievable.  I know L.A. has a reputation for weird, but that is way beyond the kind of weird I’m used to!” 
 
Willow ran her hands gently through Tara’s hair, trying to soothe some of the tension she felt coming off her girlfriend. She was going to have to try to convince Tara to get more rest.  The injured girl was starting to chafe at her limitations.  Willow was glad in a way, because it meant she was truly on the mend at last.  “I’d better keep this short.  Anything you guys need?”
 
“We’re a little short on some supplies, but Angel has been working deals with some friendly townspeople nearby,” Dawn rolled her eyes at the memory of the fuming vampire ranting to Cordy about price gouging.
 
“I hope he’s being discreet!” Willow didn’t like the idea of tipping anyone not firmly in their corner off about their camp.
 
“He’s being careful,” Dawn amended.  “I think he’d have no problem eating anyone who betrayed us  and, more important, that’s what they think too.”
 
“I don’t know if I’d call threatening being discreet,” Willow shook her head.
 
“Only one guy and only once.  I don’t think the guy was really a troublemaker, more like greedy,” Dawn confided.  “There are lots of people getting rich off of all this misery.”
 
“I know.  Some of the labs are using the more peaceful demons as slave labor before killing them,” Willow pursed her lips in disapproval.  “They work them to death.”
 
Dawn shivered.  “That’s not right.”
 
“None of this is right,” Willow declared.
 
***
 
Andrew looked at the small device in Warren’s hand.  “What’s that?”

“This, princess, is a listening device,” Warren grinned evilly.  “Anything Miss Too-Good-To-Play says that might raise a few eyebrows will come right through this thing and onto my trusty PC audio file program.”   He waggled his eyebrows at Andrew’s shocked face.  “Besides, if she’s on the up and up human-wise, other things might just rise listening to her audio porn, so no loss.  The chick’s got quite a mouth on her…and wouldn’t I like to find out the details on that personally.  Really Harris needs to put a cork in her if he doesn’t want every red-blooded man around sniffing her skirts.”
 
Andrew felt uncomfortable with the whole conversation but didn’t want to give his supposed friend any more ammunition to hit him with when he wanted to belittle him. Still, he couldn’t quite hide the disapproving expression that crossed his face.
 
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Warren chided.  “I’m authorized to investigate any suspected demon like this.  It’s perfectly legal.”
 
Not for the first time, Andrew wondered at all these new powers and laws that sooner or later seemed to target people he liked.  Anya had not only sold him his precious magic pan flute and shown him how to use it, but she had taken the time to write out a list of demons he shouldn’t try to summon with it.  Who knew if he would have survived calling up one that might have eaten him before he could give it orders?!  He watched in dismay as Warren crossed the street and entered the Box.  ‘Maybe I should warn her to be careful of what she says.’  Yeah, and make an enemy out of Warren?  That would toast his onions for sure!  
 
At first, it had seemed almost noble being a part of the Youth For Humans group.  ‘I mean what part of pro-human screams Brute Squad?’  Andrew pictured sweet, bespectacled Mr. Griflyx and then his fellow Star Trek fan, Dwayne, and some other demons that had been nicer to him than most humans over the years.  Now they were all gone, one way or another, and he, Andrew Wells, Summoner of Demons, had had a hand in getting rid of them. 
 
When he was in their meetings or marching and chanting about ‘Humans Only’ it all felt great, like being a superhero, a champion of his species.  It was only later when he was alone that the specters attended his sleep, that the half remembered moments came back to him.  Moments when he laughed and played and enjoyed the company of so many of these demons that he was now helping to eradicate.  Moments when they didn’t talk down to him or treat him like a freak or helped him like Anya had done.  That was when he questioned it all.
 
Warren was so smart and strong and Andrew had always looked up to him as a born leader.  He’d made this sound almost holy, like a crusade.  Face it, the power was a heady feeling.  Holding the lives of others in your hand was a rush!  Like being a kind of god in a way.  Andrew had enjoyed being a practitioner of the arcane arts and the way it made him feel special.  He couldn’t even do that now because of the laws, not unless he wanted to be put in one of the camps himself.  The only time he still felt special was when the youth group was getting patted on the back for ‘cleaning out the scum’ or when they marched and chanted together.  Ah, but when he was alone….
 
Andrew was feeling more and more like Rogue lately.  The 1981 Rogue was a proud member of Mystique’s Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, but in time she started listening to Professor X, started remembering those people whose memories she had absorbed, so she chose to join the X-Men instead.    He could turn good like Rogue and maybe the ghosts would let him sleep again.
 
Jonathan seemed more at peace since he stopped hanging with Warren.  Short Stuff was still as nervous as a cat with three tails and more than a little paranoid, but he didn’t seem torn like Andrew was and he didn’t have dark circles under his eyes from disturbed sleep. That must be nice. 
 
Andrew had always been overlooked; he was used to being no one special.  Always Tucker’s brother, never Andrew Wells, the powerful mage who could cause Sunnydale High’s Juliet to flee the stage mid performance chased by flying monkeys.  Not the guy who could do higher math in his head almost as fast as a calculator.  Not the guy who could quote dialogue from entire science fiction or James Bond films without missing a word.  Not the guy who had mad skills, if only someone just wanted them, noticed them.  No, he was the geek, the loser, the butt of jokes.  Even Warren sometimes forgot his name and they’d been friends since grade school.
 
All Andrew wanted was to be important to someone.  He didn’t need the whole world noticing him like Warren dreamed of, but he wanted to matter.  Warren used to make him feel like he could be someone; he’d even promised it when they first formed the Youth For Humans group.  Now he only had Andrew pick up the snacks for meetings and obey commands when on patrol.  It seemed that all that really happened was that Andrew had lost himself.  He didn’t even notice himself anymore.
 
He looked at Warren and saw his power trips and ever expanding ego and it kinda scared him.  He’d had to sacrifice friends, demon and not, stabbing them in the back or even in the front to some power he wasn’t even sure he wanted to have win.  It was never enough and Andrew wasn’t sure he could keep doing it much longer.
 
‘I don’t want to kill or even set someone up to be killed.  If I quit, though, I might die.’  He suddenly saw the accusing face of Dwayne looking at him with scared eyes.  ‘Maybe it’s what I deserve.  I didn’t sign up to murder, but that’s what it’s turned into really.‘ He was so torn!  He needed help sorting it all out.  Maybe that Rabbi guy Jonathan hangs with could help?
 
It would be worth a try, if only to be able to sleep again.  Who knows, maybe it wasn’t too late even for a schmuck like Andrew Wells.
 
***  
 
Buffy groaned and struggled back to consciousness.  "Not too bad, my patootie!" she grumbled softly.
 
"Slayer?  Buffy?  You back with me, pet?"  Spike sounded beside himself.
 
"Yeah.  Present and accounted for, slightly worse for the wear."  Buffy couldn't even dredge up a weak smile to go with the jest. 
 
She felt the gentle touch of Spike's hand on her shoulder preventing her from trying to get up.  "Just rest, Buffy.  Need to conserve that energy, save it up for the eventual righteous ass-kicking you'll give these wankers."
 
"In my dreams."  She did smile then, "And I mean that quite literally.  I dream of it.  I must have destroyed this place and all the real monsters a thousand different ways every time I managed to get to sleep."
 
"Got a favorite?"  Spike grinned.  He hoped she'd find strength in being able to at least talk about it.  "My personal favorite involves the slow, painful ripping off of body parts."
 
Buffy guffawed, "Right now my favorite involves a bit of napalm.  I remember thinking that was a horrible thing to do to someone when we read about how it was used in Vietnam.  Now I gotta say I can see a use for the product."
 
“Gotta apologize for all the times I called your big lunk of an ex ‘Cardboard’.  Thought he was as bland as a bologna-n-mayonnaise sandwich on white bread, but I seriously underrated him.”  Spike rolled his eyes.   “I always knew he resembled Angelus more than a bit, never thought it was more than surface though.    Turns out he could offer a few tips to Peaches in a few areas.”
 
“He’s your special nemesis.  Mine’s Quentin Travers, former boss and head of the Watchers Council.  Guess what wasn’t in the employee packet?”
 
Spike leveled a skeptical look at her, “You think your ex didn’t help put that target on your back?  From some of the things I’ve heard Finn say, my guess is he did plenty of talkin’ up about your ‘unnatural’ powers.”
 
Buffy sighed.  “I don’t know if it would have mattered in the end.  I think I earned my place on Mr. Masterpiece Theater’s list pretty much on my own.”
 
Buffy flexed her wrists and grimaced a bit.  They were sore from her pulling on the restraints while in the lab.  Spike noticed immediately and took her hand to once more look at her wrists in case he had missed some damage earlier.  “I checked as best as I could, love.  Didn’t see any signs of cuttin’ or burnin’.    Still clear you’re hurtin’.  What’d they do to you?”
 
Buffy shrugged and tried to appear nonchalant.  “Scans, like they said.  Of course, they left off the part where they would give me an electric shock at different strengths while monitoring my brain activity.  I guess they were looking to see how pain impacts a Slayer’s brain.   Duh!  Just like everyone else, big surprise there.  Way to advance scientific knowledge.  Go, Initiative!”
 
Spike seethed.  How dare they treat Buffy as if she were a demon or some lab animal!  This girl had saved every one of their worthless hides over and over again and that gobshite Travers was delighting in causing her hurt!  “I’d like to take their electrical toys and attach ‘em to their bits and bobs.  See how they like it!  You okay?”
 
Buffy shook her head, “Yeah, no permanent damage.  Let’s just say when I give my review of this establishment on Travel Advisor they won’t be getting any stars.”
 
Spike gave a half grin, “For people callin’ themselves scientists, they do plenty of pointless experiments.  Guess the buggers can’t read ‘cause you know they have lots of this data already.  I remember the first edition of this particular horror story, and by that I mean during the Big War.  Had lots of data, I looked at some while on the not-so-pleasure cruise under the sea on that sub Angel liberated.”  Spike ran a hand through his hair, loosening some precious looking curls inadvertently.  “Like all those lab experiments on bunnies and beagles that just repeat stuff they’ve already done.  I think some just like inflictin’ a bit of hurt; it’s not just demons that enjoy it.”
 
Buffy sat and smiled back at him.  “Yeah, I never got that back in high school.  I mean how many frogs need to be dissected by teenagers to finally know how they work anyway?  I hated that. I hate being the frog even more.”
 
“I admit to havin’ a streak of masochism from time to time,” Spike looked up at Buffy’s snort, “but even I have my limits.  They won’t be getting any stars in my review either.  What say we look into checkin’ out of here and upgradin’ the accommodations? “
 
“No argument here.”  Buffy leaned closer and whispered, “You got any ideas yet?  You broke out of the first one pretty quick and I’m hoping lightning can strike twice.”