Xander watched tensely as the snake demon that, up until a couple of minutes ago, had been Mayor Richard Wilkins chase Buffy into the wired-to-blow high school. Sparing a glance at the student 'army' that he and Angel had trained - they seemed to be doing fairly well, helped by the fact that they now knew that it was possible to fight the things that had haunted the night in Sunnydale -he counted to fifteen in his head, that being how long Buffy had needed to successfully complete the route she'd decided on during the lead-up to this moment, plus a little extra just-in-case time, and waved to Giles, who was nervously holding the detonator.
"Now, G-man! NOW!"
In his mind's eye, Giles pressed the plunger, and a series of explosions marched through the school, starting with the cache of plastic explosives in the library, then the ANFO charges that had been placed at strategic locations throughout the building - explosives which he'd been responsible for obtaining, placing and wiring up to the detonator.
Reality was nothing like that, however.
It started off the same way, with Giles convulsively slamming the handle down,then...
A conspicuous lack of anything else.
Xander's jaw sagged as the implications of that sunk in. Snake-guy must have torn the wires on his rampage, he thought, while Giles repeatedly raised and lowered the plunger in a futile effort to detonate the explosives. We've failed - no, scratch that. I've failed. This was my responsibility, and I blew it, big time.
Just then, Buffy rounded the corner of the building, and even though she was some distance away, Xander could tell that she was confused. Spotting them, she ran in their direction, staking a couple of vampires as she passed. "What are you guys waiting for?" she demanded. "Blow the school!"
Xander gestured in Giles' - who was still fiddling with the detonator - direction without looking. "Something went wrong, Buff," he said in a hollow tone of voice. "The mayor-demon probably tore the wires when he entered the school."
"Well, in that case..." she started, as she turned to head back to the school building, but Xander grabbed her arm.
"No point, Buff. You'll probably get eaten," Xander said. Buffy tensed, ready totear her arm free from his grasp anyway, but Xander tightened his grip. "And besides," he continued, gesturing with his free hand to the school building, from which came various crash-and-bash noises as the demon inside decided to take the quickest route to the outside, "there's no way of telling where the wires are torn. In fact, there's probably more wire torn down than there is still in place."
Buffy suddenly relaxed in his grip, and he let go. "What do we do now?" she asked, her features haunted with the spectre of failure.
The way she deferred to him once again hammered home the fact that this fiasco was his fault. My plan, my failure, he thought dejectedly. She's not saying it out loud, but she will once it sinks in.
"Tactical withdrawl, Buff," he said. "Unless you think you can take him on?"
"Sorry, Xand," she said. "That's the reason we went with the blow-up-the-school plan. And isn't 'tactical withdrawl' just another way of saying 'running away'?"
Xander nodded. "Unless you have another idea?" he asked, although he doubted it. After all, they had gone with the blow-up-the-school plan because they'd been unable to come up with anything better. This is going to be bad,he thought, knowing that when he called for the retreat, the student 'army' would lose all cohesiveness and casualties, which had been fairly low up to this point, would become much higher as the vampires became able to attack people from behind.
Unless someone stays back as a rearguard, he thought. That would be away to sort-of redeem my failures here today. With the decision made, a strange calm settled over Xander. As much as I hate to admit it, Angel will be able to look after Buffy, and Willow has Oz. And after the way we broke up, I doubt that Cordy will be overly upset, either.
Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted, "FALL BACK! RETREAT!"
As the student 'army' began to back off, and in the brief moments before they simply turned and ran, Xander drew a couple of stakes and joined the melee. He managed to take a pair of vampires by surprise, dusting them before they became aware of his presence.
Then he became aware of someone fighting beside him, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of blonde hair that could only belong to...
"Buffy!" he exclaimed, staking another vampire, as she did the same. "What areyou doing?"
"I'm not letting you do this by yourself!" she said as she kicked a vampire in the crotch before staking it. "We fight long enough-" punch, stake "-for the students to get a good headstart-" dodge, kick, stake "-and then we join them!"
She had that set to her jaw that indicated that she was in stubborn mode, and there wasn't a lot that could budge her when she got that way. Except...
Xander staked a third vampire, then caught a glimpse of Angel as he fought a small group of vampires. One stubbornness-breaker, right on cue. "C'mon," he said to Buffy, moving in Angel's direction. "Deadboy may need our help."
Fortunately, there weren't too many vampires between them and Angel, and they were fairly easily disposed of, mostly by Buffy. In fact, the vampires seemed to be lining up for a chance to take down a former member of the Scourge of Europe group, probably for the perceived prestige that that would give them.
They backed off slightly, however, when Buffy and Xander stepped up beside him. Probably more for Buffy than for me, Xander thought. "Things have gone horribly wrong, Deadboy," he started, ignoring the spinal-reflex glare Angel sent his way. "Get Buffy out of here - she'll be needed now more than ever.I'll try to hold this lot off for as long as I can."
Buffy waited, until it became obvious that Xander wasn't going to add the "and then I'll join you" that she'd been expecting. Why would he say that,unless... Realisation dawned, along with a growing hollow in the pit of herstomach. Surely, he can't mean to...
One glance told Buffy that he did intend to sacrifice himself in order to give everyone else a chance to escape. Another glance in Angel's direction told her that he had come to the same realisation at pretty much the same time. "No, Xander! I won't let you do this!" Buffy exclaimed, grabbing his arm.
Xander ripped his arm free before turning on her. "Don't you get it, Buffy?" he asked angrily. "All of this is my fault! It was my plan, and I didn't take into account the possibility that this might happen!"
Buffy's eyes started to tear up as she thought about going through the rest ofher life without her 'Xander-shaped friend'. "Please, Xander... don't sacrifice youself like this," she pleaded. "I don't want to be without you."
Xander snorted as he shifted his stance and brought his stakes into a fighting position. "You've still got Angel," he said.
"No matter how much I might love Angel," Buffy said, lower lip wobbling slightly as she fought back tears,"you're just as important to me. Please, Xander, come with us."
"Is that why you've been trying to keep me back from the Slayage?" Xander asked,with his eyes on the vampires who, knowing that the eclipse was going pass eventually, had overcome their nervousness at facing the Slayer and one of the most feared of their kind. They were even eyeing Xander warily,sensing that he held no fear in him - in fact, sensing that he didn't intend to live through this day.
Someone like that can be a fearsome opponent, and is not to be taken lightly.
Buffy nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Unseen by the two participants of this little drama, a host of expressions were flickering across Angel's face as he realised just why he'd taken such an instant dislike to Xander.
Xander had been his only competition for Buffy's affections. She might not see it that way, but Xander had brought light and laughter into her life, plus the fact that he was able to be there for her during the day and didn't have the emotional baggage that came with over a century of the hideous crimes that he had committed before being cursed with his soul.
Then there had been that time last year when Angelus resurfaced briefly, when those crimes had been immediate, rather than dulled by the distance of almost a century. When you added the fact that Xander was completely devoted to Buffy to the mix, one thing became clear.
While he may have a hold on Buffy's heart - leaving aside the matter of how tenuous the grip was these days - it was fairly clear that Xander had a hold on her soul.No, if there's anyone who needs redemption, it's me, Angel decided.And this is my chance to achieve it.
"Deadboy, why are you and Buffy still here?" Xander said, derailing his train ofthought. "I thought I made it clear that you should GO!"
Buffy started pleading with Xander again, and Angel came to a realisation. No matter how much Buffy denies it, Xander's more than just her 'Xander-shaped friend', he's the rock her emotional stability rests on. There mayor may not be love involved as well. With a small shock, Angel realised that he'd made the same sort of decision that Xander must have made.
"Deadboy," Xander growled. "If you don't..."
He never saw Angel's fist arc around and slam into the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. Catching him before he hit the ground, Angel said to Buffy, who was standing open-mouthed with shock, "Get him out of here."
"Not without you, Angel," Buffy said defiantly.
Angel short-circuited any possibility of argument by shoving Xander's limp format her, forcing her to drop her stakes to catch him. "I... can't. Xander was right when he said that someone had to stay back to buy time. You can't, and I've got a better chance at holding them off longer than Xander does."
Leaning forward, he cupped Buffy's cheeks gently in his hands and kissed her for the last time. "Remember that I will always love you Buffy, and that you broughtout the humanity in me for one last hurrah," he said after gently breaking off the kiss.
That was the last straw for Buffy's self-control. With tears streaming down her face, it was obvious that she wanted to kiss Angel, wanted to fight at his side one last time... but she also obviouisly wanted to get Xander to safety. "Go, Buffy," Angel said gently as he turned to face the oncoming vampire horde. "Live your life to the fullest, and live it well." With an unitelligible war-cry, he rushed the vampires, arms a blur of motion as he eliminated vampire after vampire.
Her eyes blurred by tears, Buffy turned to find Oz's van a short distance away, with Giles and Willow standing near the open side door as they beckoned her to safety. All around her, the student 'army' had become a panicked mob and, although Angel's last stand was tying down more than his fair share of vampires, small groups had broken around the flanks of that confrontation and were pulling students down as they attempted to flee.
Buffy saw Cordelia dragged down and drained in this way, which sent another pang through a heart that had already endured too much pain for one day. Running as fast as she could, she bowled over a couple of smaller vampires that tried to stop her reaching the van.
She made it without difficulty, and shoved Xander at Willow and Giles. "Here, take Xander," she said, not giving Giles a chance to speak. "I've got to go back and-"
A howl of victory from the vampires behind her cut her words short. "Oh, no..." she gasped. Only one thing could have happened.
Angel was dead.
Angel had sacrificed himself for her... as Xander had been about to, as well.
Buffy didn't resist as Willow and Giles dragged her into the van. "Go!" Giles barked to Oz, who nodded once and, dropping the van into gear, floored the accelerator.
A small corner of Buffy's shell-shocked mind noted that, from the time she'd entered the school with the mayor-demon in hot pursuit to Angel's sacrifice and Cordelia's death, only five minutes had elapsed. A loud crash, audible even over the straining motor of Oz's van, announced that the demon had crashed through an outer wall and was poised to exit the school. A rumbling roar indicated that the demon had done too much damage in the process,causing the school to collapse.
Somehow Buffy doubted that that would slow the demon down for too long.
A few minutes later, as Xander was stirring back to consciousness, the full enormity of what had happened began to sink in. "My God," Willow said over and over, her face pale, while Giles simply stared into space.
Buffy was sobbing quietly, her imagination replaying Cordelia's death over and over, along with all the other deaths she'd seen that day except, for some reason, Principal Snyder's.
As for Oz... not a great deal showed on his face, but Buffy was willing to bet that he was hurting just as much as the rest of them.
She was absolutely correct, and only the fact that he was concentrating on driving them to safety stopped him from giving in to his emotions like the others.
The van crested the small hill on the outskirts of Sunnydale, and Oz saw something pretty amazing. "Woah," he said quietly, and then, a little louder,"Buffy." He had to repeat it twice more before he got her attention.
"What is it,Oz?" she said quietly as she stuck her head between the two front seats. Oz merely gestured to the front, and when Buffy looked forward she saw the same thing that he did.
A long column of cars, all driving away from the carnage behind them as fast as they could go.
"At least the day wasn't a total failure," Buffy commented, and the emotions in her voice caused Oz to glance at her.
"Buffy," he said simply. "I'm sorry."
Simply, but with the perfect honesty that meant that the words were more than a simple cliche, and almost caused Buffy to break down again. It was an impossible choice... save Xander, or save Angel, but not both, she thought despondantly. Why couldn't I have saved both of them? Isn't that my job as the Slayer?
Oz seemed to read her mind again. "You did what you could, Buffy," he said in his quiet way. "No-one could have asked more of you."
"But why, Oz?" she almost-wailed. "Why couldn't I even save both Xander and Angel, instead of being forced to choose betwen them?"
Just then, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her, and heard Willow whisper, "Oh my God, Buffy, I'm so sorry," in a voice laden with tears.
Just then, a helicopter roared overhead, extremely low.
"... what you are seeing now is an apparent refugee convoy fleeing from the small town of Sunnydale," the reporter said into her microphone, as the camerman tracked the scene with his camera. "It is not clear why they are fleeing, but the few reports that made it out of the town indicate that it is something horrible. We are on our way to the town now, and hope to be able to tell you more soon."
"And we're... clear," she heard, and keyed the intercom to the pilots.
"How much longer?" she asked.
"Should be only a couple of minutes," was the reply, and true to the pilot's word, three minutes later, they were over Sunnydale. What she saw was...
"Oh my God..."
She barely heard the producer of her mobile unit frantically calling the station, demanding that the studio cut to them now, Goddammit!
The reports had reached the Governor as well, and he realised that the news media were the best placed to get someone on the scene quickly.
And so, he'd forced himself to wait, having found out which network had assets closest to Sunnydale and switched the TV that was pernanently on in his office to the ABC.
What he saw shocked him to the core, and the reporter obviously felt the same way.
"Peter? Are you seeing this?" the reporter was saying.
"Yes, Amber, I am," Peter Jennings, the news anchor, replied. "But I'm not entirely sure if I can believe my eyes."
"Although this might seem like something out of a B-grade horror movie, this is real and live," Amber said.
"My God," the governor whispered. Some sort of huge snake with arms was rampaging through what had used to be a fairly quiet Californian town. He could see what looked like a couple of police officers firing their sidearms at it - obviously trying to draw its attention away from the group of people frantically trying to flee - but it did no good, the monster ignoring the small-arms fire and reaching out with one of its arms, grabbed the policemen and...
"Swallowed them whole. It swallowed them whole," one of the governor's staffers said in shock.
It then chased down the fleeing people, showing amazing speed for its size, and...
From behind the governor came the sound of someone being noisily sick as the entire group was devoured. He turned to the general in command of the Californian National Guard. "General, do we have any troops in the area of Sunnydale?" he asked, and it was totally unecessary to say why.
The general consulted a folder an aide handed him. "Yes, Mister Governor. There's a mechanised infantry brigade carrying out their annual field exercise about fifty kilometres away. Allowing time to cease any training in progress, and refuel vehicles, they should be there in about two-and-a-half hours."
"See to it, General," the governor ordered. This was going to be a nightmare, the governor knew. Compared to this, the Los Angeles riots of '92 were going to seem like a schoolyard squabble.
"Mister Governor?" the general asked, breaking into the governor's thoughts.
"Yes, General?"
"May I suggest that support be obtained from the regular military as soon as possible? Even if the troops arrive before that thing-" he gestured to the TV screen, which was still showing the monster rampaging through Sunnydale, eating anyone who was too slow to get away, "tries to escape, their first priority will be to get a cordon into place, and help the refugees."
The governor felt his lips tighten at that. Refugees, here in America. Isn't that sort of thing supposed to happen in other parts of the world? "You're right, General," he admitted and turned to pick up one of the phones on his desk. "Get me the president."
After a brief wait, he was connected to the White House. "Mister President?... I'm afraid this is not a social call, Mister President... Have you seen what's on ABC news right now?... Yes, that is why I'm calling, Mister President... Military help, Mister President, whatever's available as soon as... That would be a good start... Ninety minutes to arm and fuel?... No, that's alright, Mister President, we were lucky to have National Guard units in the area. This caught us completely by surprise as well... Thank you, Mister President."
He hung up the phone and turned to face the people in his office. "The first Regular units on the scene will be a squadron of Tomcats armed with laser-guided bombs from Mirimar, and units from Three Corps based at Fort Hood will be flown in."
Fixing his attention on the general, he said, "Why don't you tell us more about the infantry brigade that's in the area, General?"
"Of course, Mister Governor. The brigade is the Second Brigade of the Sixteenth Infantry Division, and is made up of three mechanised infantry battalions, an armoured battalion, a self-propelled atrillery battalion and a cavalry squadron for reconnasaince, including scout helicopters and helicopter gunships. Also attached to that brigade are a number of support units, including..."
Colonel Jeffery Grey scowled as the vehicle nickamed the 'God Car' by soldiers due to the fact that the amount of information available was basically a 'God's-eye view' of a battlefield hit a pothole. Although the M-4's suspension absorbed most of the jolt, enough was transmitted to send the maps on the map-table sliding, and only a quick reaction from his G-2 - intelligence officer - prevented them from hitting the vehicle's deck.
Although the map-table was perfectly capable of showing where they were and the surrounding area, tanks to the maps digitised and stored in the vehicle's computer memory, Colonel Grey preferred paper maps, pointing out that the map-table could break, unlike paper maps. His staff tactfully refrained from pointing out that anything that would cause the map-table to break, and take down the backup unit as well, probably would destroy the paper maps at the same time.
He was the Boss, he preferred things to be done this way, and that was the way it was going to be done. Rank hath its priveleges, and all that. Besides, a fully up-to-date computerised version was being maintained... just not where the Boss could see it.
"So, can someone tell me what the hell's going on in Sunnydale?" he growled, which wasn't aimed at anyone in particular, but the universe at large.
"No, sir," the G-2 replied. "All we know is what's in our orders."
"Fan-fucking-tastic," he said before turning to his G-3 - operations officer. "So, what are we going to do when we get there?"
"Well, sir," the G-3 replied, "if we remain on our current heading and speed, we should intercept the refugee convoy... here." He indicated a point on the map about halfway between Sunnydale and Los Angeles, "In about ten minutes. The air cav guys have already spotted them, and are guiding us to them.
"Once that happens, we start deploying around Sunnydale, set up a perimeter, and await further orders."
Grey scowled again. He hated rush jobs. He knew that sometimes it wasn't possible to pass on all relevant information, but that didn't mean that he had to like it. Fortunately, a cordon was a fairly standard deployment.
He swivelled his chair around to face one of the screens mounted on the wall of the vehicle. Mistrustful of new technology as he was, he was forced to admit that this was useful. The IVIS - Inter-Vehicular Information System - was a small computer/radio transmitter mounted in each vehicle in his brigade (and he knew that he was damned lucky to have it available in a National Guard unit), which sent information about that vehicle's position, along with short messages from the vehicle's commander. But he still thought it looked like something that kis kids - hell, his grandkids - would enjoy playing with.
The display currently showed the disposition of the brigade's vehicles. Grey grunted - his battalion and company commanders were maintaining good formations, with the Scout Squadron in front, the three mechanised infantry battalions in the standard arrowhead formation, and the armour battalion was in reserve.
Despite the fact that they were moving through friendly territory, Grey insisted on combat formations. Like all National Guard officers, he took every chance for training time that came his way.
Just then, the 'God Car' slowed to a halt as they reached the point where the headquarters would set up, and the infantry battalions moved out to take up their positions in the cordon. The armour battalion moved up, both to act as a brigade reserve and to provide headuqaters security. The air cav units took the chance to top up their fuel levels before preparing to provide close recon over Sunnydale. If the Navy boys didn't get there first, that is.
So far, the journey had been in mournful silence... then Xander came to.
"NO!" he shouted, startling Buffy and Willow - who were sitting either side of him - out of their own thoughts. "Why didn't you let me stay, Buffy? WHY?"
"Oh, Xander," Buffy said, drawing him into a hug. "I couldn't... you mean too much to me to allow me to let yourself throw your life away like that."
Willow was shocked - she'd seen Buffy carry an unconscious Xander to Oz's van, but she hadn't seen the mini-confrontation between Buffy, Xander and Angel prior to Angel's last stand. So Xander had intended to sacrifice himself because things had gone wrong? What could have possessed him to... Oh. Major guilt.
Reaching over, she joined the hug. "Please, Xander," she whispered. "Call me selfish if you want, but I'm glad Buffy stopped you. I couldn't stand the thought of you... not being here."
Xander didn't resist the hugs, but he didn't accept them, either. "Don't you guys get it? The plan that bom... didn't work was my plan. My responsibility. It's my fault those people died." The pain in his voice was enough to set both Buffy and Willow crying, while Giles, who was watching the scene in silence, started blinking furiously.
Xander didn't notice, being too deep in his own private hell. "My one big chance to prove mysef to you, and I fucked it up big-time."
"No, Xander, that's not true!" Buffy protested. "The plan you came up with was brilliant, and in a fairer universe would have worked. It was a freak random million-to-one chance that jumped up and bit you. No-one could have predicted it."
Unbidden, a quote from a Terry Pratchett novel rose in Giles' mind. Million-to-one chances happen nine times out of ten, closely followed by, But Chance, who sometimes can overrule even the gods, has 999,999 casting votes.
He didn't mention either one, however, as his young charges' mental states were fragile enough as it was, with Xander obviously being the worst off. He wondered if, when they reached help, there was the possibility of having Xander sedated, and a quite word with both Buffy and Willow regarding the necessity of keeping a close, but unobtrusive, watch on him... just in case.
The van lurched as it slowed to a halt, and Giles moved forward until he was able to speak to Oz. "What's going on?" he asked quietly, not wanting to be heard by the three emotionally distraught teens.
"That," Oz replied in his usual laconic manner, indicating directly ahead.They had been some distance behind the other refugees, guarding the rear, which meant they got an unobstructed view.
Ahead of them, they could see a military headquarters, with armoured vehicles parked in a group, and infantry fighting vehicles and tanks paked in a perimter defence around them. Uniformed soldiers were bustling from vehicles to vehicle, and the other cars in the refugee column were parked off to one side, with more soldiers moving from car to car, obviously taking statements.
Further off in the dustance a group of helicopters was easily visible, with yet more soliders moving from helicopter to helicopter, rigging refuelling hoses and mounting armaments. Even Giles was able to recognise Kiowa scout helicopters and the more insectile, yet lethal, profiles of Apache gunships.
"Wow," was Oz's only comment.
Giles was impressed as well. Despite a near-genetic feeling that the British Army was one of the world's best - if not the world's best - particulalrly when it came to setting up operations, he had to admit that the American Army had done a good job. "Yes, the government has certainly reacted swiftly to today's events," was his only comment.
Colonel Grey's scowl was out in full force.
The refugee convoy had been intercepted as planned - precisely as planned, which made him suspect that his staff officers were playing with the computers behind his back - and the story told by the refugees was unbelievable, to say the least.
The mayor had changed into some sort of monster at the local high school's graduation ceremony, and had started eating people? And he had been joined in his attack by... vampires?
And to top it off, the students had started to fight back, drawing weapons from beneath their graduation gowns, being lead by two of the students - one Elizabeth Summers and one Alexander Harris. Summers had lead the monster into the school, where something was supposed to happen but didn't, and that was when Harris had called for a retreat.
The people in the cars had been the lucky ones - they had been able to escape.
Yeah, right.
But he couldn't deny that the stories had been remarkably consistent. If it was a hallucination, then it had been a terribly realistic one. And he couldn'y deny the injuries on some of the refugees - his medics were overloaded, and some were making arrangements to medevac the worst of the injured to Los Angeles for treatment.
The radios mounted on the outside of the 'God Car' crackled as the outer pickets reported one more vehicle approaching, and were instructed to allow it through. As it approached, Grey could see that it was a fairly battered van, which pulled over with the other vehicles.
Curious to see what their story would be, he wandered in that general direction, along with his G-2, and saw a young red-haired man climb from the driver's seat. Although the young man's expression was stoic, Grey could tell that he was hiding some serious emotions.
The sliding door on the side opened, and from it emerged a young red-haired woman - who quickly went to the young driver, and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace - an older man, with light brown hair and wearing glasses, a young blone woman, and a young brown-haired man.
The young blonde was supporting the young brunette, and seemed to be whispering something in his ear. As Grey approached, he could hear that the young man was muttering, "My responsibility. My fault," over and over again, and the young woman was denying it each and every time.
All of the passengers of the van seemed to be suffering from some sort of emotional trauma - although they seemed physically unhurt, apart from some minor abrasions and mild cuts - but the young man was clearly the worst off.
What was interesting however, was the fact that he thought he recognised the last two, from the descriptions given by the other refugees. They seemed to be Summers and Harris, but he was taking no chances.
Deciding to approach the older man - as he seemed to be under the least amount of emotional strain - he got straight to the point. "I'm Colonel Jeffery Grey, commanding officer of the Second Brigade of the Sixteenth Infantry Division. And you are?"
"Rupert Giles," the man answered, with a distinct English accent. "Wa- Librarian at Sunnydale High School. Well, former librarian, now," he added with a slight frown.
Grey wondered about that slight slip of the tongue, but let it slide for now. "Everyone else has been saying that the mayor turned into some sort of monster at Graduation and started eating people. Is that true?"
Giles nodded slowly. "Yes, Colonel, it is true," he said simply.
For some reason that didn't really surprise Grey. "And they go on to say that the students began to fight back, and that vampires joined the fight as well. They further say that the students were lead by two of their number, and their descriptions match those of two of your group," he continued, indicating Summers and Harris.
"That is also true," Giles responded. "In fact, it was Xander who devised the plan."
"Xander?"
"Alexander Harris," Giles said, indicating Harris. "Unfortunately, something went wrong beyond our ability to control."
Grey understood that. As a soldier, he'd seen plans go wrong on many occasions, even as something as simple as getting rations to his troops. Something nagged at him, though. "Hold up a moment," he said slowly. "Are you trying to tell me that a teenager came up with an operational plan of engagement?" Grey knew that war movies and computer games were becoming more and more realistic, but this was ridiculous.
"That is true, Colonel," Giles said again.
"But that would mean that you knew that something like this was going to happen in advance," Grey said, as realisation dawned. "Why didn't you tell someone about this?"
Giles removed his glasses and gave them a brief polish before replacing them and looking Grey dead in the eye. "Who would have believed us, Colonel?" he asked. "You still find it hard to believe, and that despite hundreds of eyewitness reports. Would you have believed that something like this was possible if you'd simply been told out of - what's the phrase you Americans use? - 'a clear blue sky'?"
"No," Grey admitted. "But now that I do have hundreds of eyewitness reports, I'm willing to entertain the possibility." Giles stifled a snort, and the look in his eye said that if Grey was entertaining the possibility, he should be up to after-dinner drinks and sweets by now, if not further.
"But leaving that aside for the moment, young Harris looks like a wreck," Grey pointed out.
"Well, as I mentioned before, it was his plan, and it did go horribly wrong. He feels completely responsible for all the lives that were lost today. In fact, he was willing to act as a rearguard and sacrifice his life in order to buy time for the rest of us to escape," Giles said with a concerned expression.
Grey whistled softly. "He is taking this hard," he said, pointing out the slightly less than blindingly obvious. "What do you think should be done?"
"I would like for him to be sedated, for starters, and he will obviously be in dire need of conselling from a psychiatrist," Giles said. "I fear that, in his current mental state, he might consider... something rash."
The word 'suicide' hung unspoken between them, but it was unecessary. Both men knew that that was a distinct possibility.
"Do you want me to have a word with him?" Grey asked.
"If it's not an imposition on your time," Giles replied.
Grey snorted. "Everything's been set up, and I'm only needed to supervise really. My staff officers have got everything under control."
Just then, a group of four jets roared overhead, followed by another group, then another.
"Looks like the Navy's arrived," Grey said, as the squadron of Tomcats raced on to Sunnydale.
Commander Matthew Adamson was not pleased with how this mission had been planned. A little over two hours ago, his squadron had been called into the briefing room, where they'd received the wierdest briefing in their experience.
They'd been told to go to the town of Sunnydale, where they were to observe the situation and respond accordingly. The briefing officer had paused there to scan the room. "Gentlemen, you have authorisation to engage targets with live ordnance if you should deem in necessary," he'd said, which had cast a pall over the room. Engage targets with live ordnance? Drop bombs on targets on American soil? Were they at war, without anybody telling them?
The briefing officer had over-ridden their questions, saying, "All I know for certain is that this mission has been authorised by the President himself. Just play it by ear, and see what happens."
Adamson was jerked from his thoughts when his navigation computer bleeped to inform his that they'd reached Sunnydale. Turning the Tomcat slightly on his side to allow him to see the ground better he saw...
"Jesus Christ!"
That may not have been good radio procedure, but it was certianly heartfelt. "Yeah, I see it as well, Two." Also not good radio procedure, but what else could he say?
What could anyone say, when they saw a monster ripping up an American town?
The monster obviously heard the jets, as it looked up and roared defiance at the. Adamson assumed that that was what it did anyway, as he didn't hear a thing.
Acting on instinct, he reached flicked the toggle switch on his control stick that armed the four two-thousand pound laser-guided bombs hanging under his wings, and switched his HUD - Head's Up Display - to ground attack mode. "Arm weapons, Jolly's, set to drop in pairs and light it up."
"Two."
"Three."
And so forth, until the count reached "Twelve."
"What's the plan, boss?" the backseater asked, trying to overcome his shock.
"Everyone drops one pair, and we see what happens from there," Adamson replied, and repeated the plan over the radio to the other pilots.
"Two."
"Three."
And so on.
"Tone," the backseater announced, which was backed up by the target 'pipper' appearing on the HUD, locking onto the monster.
"Lead has tone," he announced, watching the pipper race towards the bottom of the display.
"Two has tone."
"Three has tone."
Adamson took a deep breath as the pipper appraoched the bottom of the display. He'd dropped bombs on Iraq druing the Gulf War, and on Serbia during the NATO intervention there, but this was completely different.
This was home soil, dammit, and he shouldn't have to drop bombs on it to protect it! No matter what he was protecting it from!
Just then, the pipper dropped off the bottom of the display, and the word 'DROP' flashed in the lower right corner. "On my mark... drop now-now-now."
He pressed the weapons release button.
Grey and Giles were close enough to the radio set up by the Fire Control Officer to listen to the radio chatter between the Tomcat pilots, and the last call of, "Drop now-now-now."
There was a breathless silence, as it the universe was holding its breath, then a series of stupendous explosions as the twenty-four bombs hit their target.
"Well, that's that," Grey said with some satisfaction. "Nothing can survive nearly fifty thousand pounds worth of bombs."
"I hope you're right, Colonel," Giles said, but he seemed to believe that the problem had been sorted out as well.
"I suppose I had better have that word with young Harris, then."
Grey walked over to where Buffy and Xander were sitting, slouched against Oz's van. Xander was still muttering his mantra, and Buffy was still denying it. Strange as it may have seemed, neither had so much as twitched during the air raid.
"Elizabeth Summers? Alexander Harris?" When they looked up, he snapped a precise salute at them, and held it for a slightly longer than normal period, before dropping it and extending his hand to them. "I'm Colonel Jeffery Grey, commanding officer of the Second Brigade of the Sixteenth Infantry Division. I've been talking to the other survivors, and they're pretty unanimous in saying if it wasn't for the two of you, no-one would have survived today's events," he said dropping to his haunches so that he could address them on level terms.
"Buffy, please... and thanks," she replied, shaking Grey's hand.
Xander, on the other hand simply said, "And what of the people who died? What would they say?" Grey started to say something, but Xander rode roughshod over him. "I was the one who came up with the plan, which makes the fact that it failed my fault, because it didn't cover all possibilities," he added bitterly.
"Tell me Colonel, if I was an officer under your command in a combat zone, and I fucked up a plan which caused mass friendly casualties, would you relieve me of my command, or simply shoot me on the spot?"
Buffy gasped at that, and drew Xander tighter into her arms. "No, Xander, how many times do I have to tell you? It... wasn't... your... fault."
Grey paused to consider this, and Giles took the opportunity to whisper a brief description of the plan into Grey's ear, which caused him to raise his eyebrows and glance enquiringly at Giles, who simply nodded.
"Xander, I've been a solider for over thirty years. I've seen combat in both Vietnam and the Persian Gulf, so I can state with authority that what happened to you today was bad luck, nothing more. Hell, it's happened to me," he said, and proceeded to tell of something that happened to him when he was a young captain in Vietnam, with his first company command.
He'd been leading his company in an attack on a Vietcong area headquarters. Intelligence had predicted that the garrison would be light - a single platoon's worth of lightly armed guerilla fighters.
However, it hadn't been until the attack started, and his company was committed, that he discovered that there had been a North Vietnamese Army battalion passing through the area, and not only was he outnumbered five-to-one, he was heavily outgunned, to boot.
Only the rapid arrival of 'Puff the Magic Dragon' - a C-47 cargo plane converted to gunship duty - had allowed him to extricate his company, and even then, they'd suffered over fifty percent casualties, including himself, as he'd been wounded in the arm while leading a rescue attempt for one of his platoons, which was cut off and surrounded.
"So, you see, I know what you're going through, Xander. It wasn't my fault that the opposition was much tougher than I was told it was going to be, but that didn't stop me from blaming myself for it, and for every soldier under my command who had died."
Xander seemed to be thinking about what he had been told, so Grey rose to his feet, and walked off a few metres, gesturing for Giles to join him.
"You're right," he said when they were far enough away for Xander not to hear. "He shouldn't be left alone. But Buffy seems willing to help him. Is she his girlfriend or something?"
Giles shook his head. "No, nothing like that, Colonel. In fact, it was Buffy's boyfriend who sacrificed himself to allow them to escape. He had to render Xander unconscious in the process, as they were both rather reluctant to leave him, for one reason or another."
Grey nodded in understanding. Xander had wanted to stay because of the guilt he was feeling, while Buffy had wanted to stay because she hand't wanted to leave the man she loved to die.
"Whatever else happens, they're still heroes, and if I have my way, they'll be recognised as such. Now answer one more question for me, before I submit my report. Was this a one-off thing, or might something like this happen again?"
Giles considered briefly before answering. "No, odds are, something like this will happen again."
"That's what I was afraid you'd say."