Once again, Buffy and Xander were sitting on the beach, watching the ocean as it rose and fell.
Unlike yesterday morning, however, they weren't simply staring at the sea while their minds replayed the horrors of Graduation. Sure, their expressions showed that they were still bearing the emotional wounds of that terrible day, but those wounds were beginning to heal.
As they sat there, with Xander's arm draped across Buffy's shoulders and Buffy's arm around Xander's waist, an observer who didn't know what the two young people had been through would be excused for thinking they were in a serious relationship, especially after seeing how close they were sitting.
Of course, once that hypothetical observer had been told what the two young people had been through, they would have rapidly re-evaluated what they saw, and if the observer had any scrap of intelligence, would have recognised the gesture of mutual support for what it was... although they probably still would have thought there was more to it. They may even have been right, but that was currently the last thing on their minds.
Xander was the first to break the companiable silence. "Buff?"
"Yes, Xander?"
"Thanks."
That was all he said, but Buffy knew what he was thanking her for - the emotional support that she'd unquestioningly given him ever since they fled the disaster that had been Graduation, holding him whenever the pain became too great to bear, and somehow finding the right words to bring him down from a sobbing frenzy.
They'd spent the previous night together as well, and Xander had held Buffy as she sobbed for Angel, as her emotional wounds began to heal. Later in the night, she returned the favour when Xander's nightmares once again overwhelmed him, leaving him a sobbing near-wreck. At least there hadn't been a repetition of the first night's screaming.
"It was the least I could do, after all the help you've given me since I arrived in Sunnydale," Buffy said, after a moment's thought. Xander opened his mouth to protest, but he continued, over-riding him. "No, I mean it. If it wasn't for you, Willow and Oz, I wouldn't have survived as long as I have - in fact, if you hadn't followed me into The Master's lair, I wouldn't have survived my first *month*." She leaned over and gently kissed him on the cheek.
"I might not have always said how much I appreciated your help, but without it... something bad would have happened to me," she continued. "And that's assuming that I managed to make it past The Master. So, thank you, Xander. Thank you for always being there for me, even if at times, I may not have deserved it."
"Erm... you're welcome, Buff. But I'd like to say that I only did what anyone in my position would have done."
"*No*, Xander," Buffy said firmly, "most people would have tried to go into denial when they found out about the nasties in the world. The fact that you didn't makes you special, and that's not even considering all the help you've given me. If it wasn't for you," she repeated, "I wouldn't have lasted as long as I have as the Slayer."
An expression of understanding started to grow on Xander's face. "Is that why you and Willow started trying to keep me out of the Slayage over the last few months?" he asked.
Buffy nodded. "You were starting to take insane risks, Xander, and I didn't want you to get hurt... or worse," she said with a touch of sadness. "If anything had happened to you, I don't know what I would have done. Also, at the time we had two Slayers - I'm not saying that you weren't important, Xander, because you were... and still are - so..." she trailed off, unable to find words to express herself.
Xander understood what she had been trying to say, and his arm tightened around her shoulders briefly as an expression of gratitute. "Thanks, Buff," he said simply, before adopting a thoughful expression. "I wonder if Faith survived?" he added.
Buffy shrugged. "I don't know, Xander, that's something the Army's going to have to find out for themselves when they go into Sunnydale," she said. "Can we please not talk about her right now? I don't feel up to dealing with that at the moment."
"As My Lady wishes," Xander said, another flash of his Pre-Gradutation self peeking through the layers of hurt and emotion that had been added by that tragedy, which caused Buffy's lips to twitch into a grin.
"At the risk of ruining the moment," Xander said, in a much more serious tone of voice, "I'm sorry. About Angel," he added.
That simple statement had the effect that he'd feared it would, and Buffy's expression crumpled, and she sagged in his grasp, while tears began to trickle down her cheeks. "I mean, he didn't like me - and I didn't like him - but when it came down to it, he gave himself up to save the *both* of us. He proved himself a hero that day," Xander said softly but sincerely. "He proved in the most conclusive way possible that he *really* loved you, despite all the remarks I made about him. In the end, he proved that he was the better man," he completed with a sigh.
Buffy turned to face him, surprise evident on her face, with tears still falling. Despite everything, hearing those sentiments come from Xander had been totally unexpected. Hugging him tightly, she whispered, "Thank you," before releasing him, and they resumed their original position as they continued to stare out to sea.
With fifteen minutes to go before Operation Grey Knights - the liberation of Sunnydale - began, there was a flurry of last-minute activity as final checks were made. Ammunition loads were checked, weapons were test-fired, radios were tested, and the troops checked their equipment loads for the final time before going into action.
The redeployment of the units involved had been completed the previous afternoon, and for the rest of the time had been involved with reloading magazines with tracer rounds. That had caused enough grumbles - but then, soldiers have found reasons to grumble ever since the days of the Roman Legions - even with stripper clips speeding up the process, but the bitching had *really* started when they'd had to re-do the disintegrating link for the M-249 Minimi Squad Automatic Weapons and M-60 General Purpose Machine Guns. At least, the soldiers consoled themselves, they hadn't had to re-do the ammunition for the M-2 fifty-calibre Heavy Machine Guns. *That* would have been an absolute *nightmare*.
Also causing grumbles were the changed weapons load-out for each infantry squad taking part. In addition to the Minimi SAWs and M-203 grenade launchers, each nine-man squad was also being issued with two combat shotguns, with mixed ammunition loads of buckshot and solid slugs.
But the grumbles had simply been part of a time-honoured tradition, as the soldiers attempted to conceal pre-battle jitters - also something that went back a long way.
They had seen the footage from Sunnydale, and read reports from survivors, including those who had led the abortive fight against the... monster. Condensed versions of Giles' briefing had also been circulated, particularly the descriptions of the methods required to kill vampires. Many of them remained sceptical, but even those soldiers were willing to keep an open mind and wait until they made contact with the enemy before passing judgement.
The pace of the activity picked up briefly, as platoon commanders gave last-minute orders groups and loaded their troops onto their Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicles. Abrams Main Battle Tanks turned over their engines with loud roars, before the tone settled down into the high-pitched whine that was characteristic of their gas-turbine engines.
As the last few minutes before the operation started ticked away, the more religiously inclined soldiers whispered prayers to get them through the battle safely, and kissed small crucifixes hung on the same chain as their dog-tags before tucking them under their body armour and patting the Kevlar vests over them. Those soldiers not so inclined simply checked their weapons one last time.
The infantry, on whose shoulders the outcome of the battle would rest, was as prepared as possible.
It was time for the first supporting actor to make its entrance - the artillery.
There had been some debate on whether or not to start the operation with an artillery preparation, given the possibility of survivors hiding out, or worse, being held prisoner as a food supply for the vampires in Sunnydale.
In the end, it was decided to use the artillery to lay down a smoke barrage to provide cover for the armoured vehicles during the time when they were most vulnerable - the final approach to Sunnydale.
Five kilometres back, the crews of over two hundred Paladin self-propelled artillery pieces sweated as they manhandled smoke rounds into the breeches of the 155mm howitzers that were the reason for the existence of the vehicles, which in effect, were simply gun carriages taken to the logical conclusion.
"Close enough," the artillery commander muttered, and thumbed the 'press-to-talk' button on his radio. "Commence firing," he ordered. "Pattern One."
Even before he released the PTT button, there was a thunderous roar as all two hundred-plus howitzers spoke as one as they sent their first rounds down-range, then a brief pause as the crews went through their reloading drills before firing again, a process that would be repeated five times in all.
The vehicle commanders heard the rounds rumble overhead; most muttered, "Someone's keen," or words to that effect, anyway.
When the command to advance came over the radio, the vehicle drivers slipped their vehicles into gear and started the thousands of tanks and IFVs towards the besieged town of Sunnydale.
The vampire cursed as the smoke rose and thickened, reducing visibility to a bare handful of meters - even the enhanced senses of a vampire couldn't see through the smokescreen. Then he snorted - it wasn't as if he didn't have a fairly good idea of what was going to happen next. After all, the Army had a gross overwhelming advantage in firepower, which meant that they didn't really need to be subtle about what they were going to do.
Ever since Mayor Wilkins Ascended to demon form, massacring the human population, the town's vampire population had heard the near-continuous rumbling as more armoured vehicles and troops arrived to pen them in, and none of them had felt like chancing their luck sneaking through the cordon which had sprung up with amazing speed. Even after they'd overrun the local National Guard armoury and equipped themselves with the weapons stored there, they had no realistic chance of survival, let alone victory.
But it simply wasn't in their nature to give up without a fight, no matter the odds stacked against them.
The vampire's ears pricked up - was that the sound of vehicle engines approaching?
Yes, it was.
Carefully looking out the window - and thanking the Infernal Powers that this house had a roof that overhung sufficiently to allow him to do so without being roasted by the sun - he saw the first Bradleys burst through the smoke, already dangerously close. He could also spot the small lumps on top of each vehicle that was the commander's head, riding unbuttoned to better spot targets, despite the risks.
Taking careful aim with one of the M-16 rifles taken from the Sunnydale Armoury, he sighted on one Bradley commander's head and squeezed the trigger, firing a three-round burst. He saw a brief spray of blood as all three rounds found the small gap between the vehicle commander's helmet and the turret of the Bradley. From the next window along came the sound of another three-round burst being fired, and another Bradley commander's head exploded in a spray of blood, even though only two of the three rounds found their target.
Even as the turrets of the Bradleys swung to bring their 25mm Bushmaster cannon to bear, at the window on the other side of him another vampire was swinging an olive-drab tube to her shoulder. The first vampire wanted to growl at her to make sure she hit her target, but he didn't want to distract her. Even though the rocket launchers had simple-to-understand instructions printed on them, they only had a few... and none of them had ever used modern weapons before.
The simplicity of the weapon, however, combined with the short range they were being used at, should improve the chances of scoring a hit.
The vampire ducked instinctively as the rocket launcher was fired with a *WHUMP* and the rocket hit high on the turret of a Bradley with a *WHAM*. When the smoke cleared, the visible extent of the damage was a ragged hole, which didn't seem too bad, drawing a groan. That Bradley stopped moving, however, and smoke was pouring from the top hatch, so the vampires assumed that *some* serious damage had been done, an assumption reinforced when the surviving crewmembers began to abandon the damaged vehicle.
Taking aim on one of the fleeing crew, the vampire was about to pull the trigger again when he noticed that the Bushmaster cannon on the *other* Bradley that had been fired on was pointed directly at him, ready to hurl high-explosive final death in his direction.
Vampire reflexes were barely sufficient to allow him to reach the floor in time.
They weren't sufficient for the others in the room, though - including the half-dozen unarmed vampires that were waiting for the soldiers to get close enough to allow them to take part in the battle. The vampire watched as the others were literally ripped limb from limb by the 25mm projectiles, with final death coming as a result of sheer physical trauma.
Shaking his head to clear it, the vampire clutched his rifle and risked a glance through the now much-bigger window. He stifled a groan as he saw the two infantry squads pouring from the Bradleys and deploy into an assault formation. Taking aim again, he pulled the trigger once, twice, three times, each trigger pull resulting in a soldier being knocked sprawling.
He didn't know the results, as he could pick out the extra bulkiness that marked some sort of body armour, but he was forced to renew his acquaintance with the floor as the rest of the soldiers poured a steady stream of fire in his direction. He could also hear the *WHUMP-WHUMP-WHUMP* as the other Bradleys flayed the houses on either side of the one he was occupying with fire to cover the advance of the now-dismounted infantry. Above that, he could hear the higher-pitched whine of engines as more Bradleys moved forward, with the obvious intent of bypassing this point and driving deeper into Sunnydale.
Despite the certainty of final death approaching, the vampire found time to be impressed by the speed and decisiveness of the armoured assault. It was almost... vampire-like in its brutality.
Jarred from his thoughts by the fact that he could now clearly hear the shouted orders as the infantry closed on his position - always with 'one foot on the ground' as one group provided covering fire as another group manoeuvred - he toyed with the possibility of popping up to send some more fire in their direction. The sheer volume of incoming fire, however, meant that it was very likely that he would be hit at least once. Normally, he would have laughed at the prospect of being shot, but even *he* could identify the glowing dots of tracer rounds - the fact that pieces of furniture and the wooden walls that rounds had lodged in were now smouldering was something of a hint as to their capabilities - and he knew what fire would do to him.
Hearing shouted commands to prepare grenades, however, he decided to take his chances and, rising to a crouch, he brought his rifle to bear once more...
And found himself staring into the muzzle of a shotgun from less than ten metres away. Desperately twisting to avoid the shot, he was partly successful, as the spray of pellets ripped into his right arm, instead of his chest. The fact that some of the spread hit his chest was a mere side detail, as his rifle flew from his pain-numbed fingers, and another round smashed his right knee. Everything sort of went blank for the next few seconds, with the only thing he heard being the *CRUMP* of exploding grenades, and the next thing he knew, he was lying on his back in the shattered room, with a circle of soldiers standing over him, staring with amazement at his 'game face'.
A sergeant armed with a shotgun pushed his way to the front of the group, and stared at the vampire with some satisfaction, before turning his gaze on the rest of the room, noting the small fires that had broken out, and the scattered piles of dust that marked the demise of the other vampires.
Nodding, the sergeant said quietly, but with grim satisfaction, "*That* is how it's done." Pointing to the vampire with the barrel of the shotgun, he added, "And *that* is a vampire. Doesn't look so terrible now, does it?"
As the soldiers nodded and muttered agreement, the sergeant racked the slide of the shotgun, chambering another round.
Taking careful aim at the vampire's neck, he pulled the trigger. The vampire barely had time to hear the *CRACK* of the shotgun discharging before the buckshot messily decapitated him, reducing him to dust.
"CONTACT!" the voice shouted from the radio speaker mounted to the inside of the Bradley's hull, before continuing, only mildly quieter and certainly no calmer. "India-Four-Alpha-Alpha-Two-One has made contact with the enemy at Grid Tango-Echo Six-Eight-One-One, Five-Three-Three-Four. Have sustained casualties and damage to vehicles. CASREP as follows: three Kilo-India-Alpha, two Whiskey-India-Aplha. Require immediate Dustoff and Medevac. One Bradley damaged and requiring retrieval. Dismounting troops to clear buildings. Request support. Over."
The company commander picked up the radio handset and passed the contact report up to the battalion commander, and made arrangements for the pickup and transportation of the casualties and the damaged Bradley. Once the report was acknowledged, he changed the transmitter frequency to the company radio network. "Roger that, Alpha-Two-One. Medevac is en-route, Echo-Tango-Alpha in five. Other Alpha-Two elements moving in to support now. Remain in place until they arrive. Over."
The platoon commander of First Platoon now sounded somewhat calmer, reassured that help was on its way. "WilCo, Alpha-Two-Six. Alpha-Two-One out."
On the auxiliary radio, which was tuned to the battalion radio network, the company commander heard the battalion commander order the other three companies in the battalion to bypass this pocket of resistance and continue forward.
The company commander shrugged and started planning a house-by-house clearance of the immediate four-block area. It looked like his company was going to be the first one peeled off to conduct clearance operations. It didn't bother him in the slightest - not that he had a choice, anyway.
The hospital was surrounded by armoured vehicles and ambulances, while inside the hospital, Medical Corps doctors and civilian doctors conferred as to the state of the patients and their ability to be moved to a safer location.
The last two days had been sheer hell on them. Not only did they have to maintain the health of the patients already undergoing treatment, but they had received a number of people injured during the mayor-demon's rampage - along with a handful of people injured by flying debris from the Navy's bombing run. Supplies of medicine had held out, although a few non-critical items had started to run low.
Worse had been the occasional sniping attack by armed vampires, which resulted in two doctors and five nurses being killed, and another dozen medical staff being wounded. That had placed a double burden on resources - not only were supplies stretched by the increased numbers of injured people, but there were now fewer trained and qualified staff to treat them.
Now that the Army had relieved the hospital, those injured that could be moved were being relocated to Los Angeles hospitals, and those that couldn't due to the nature of their injuries were being stabilised for transport when it became possible.
There was one patient that was the subject of special concern, however.
"Faith Williams?" the doctor asked. A bandage around her head indicated that she had been one of those wounded by the vampire snipers, which meant that she had been rendered unfit to conduct surgery, but was still able to treat patients.
"Yeah, I know her. Stab wound to the abdomen, minor head injuries, and in a coma as a result of the head injuries. She can be moved," the doctor added.
"Can we see her, please?" the Army surgeon asked. "And may I examine her charts?"
"Sure," the doctor agreed as they walked down the corridor to Faith's private room. Stopping at a filing cabinet, the doctor opened a drawer and removed Faith's file, handing it to the surgeon.
Opening it and flicking through the information within as he walked, the surgeon noticed something. "Are these her EEG records?" he asked.
Looking over his shoulder, the doctor said, "Yes, that's them." Seeing what had caught the surgeon's interest, she added, "Yes, I know there have been times when brain activity has been greater than normal for a comatose person. In fact, I'm not entirely sure that she *is* in a coma, but the activity level is greater than those for an unconscious person. I don't know what to make of it."
Faith's eyes flickered behind her eyelids as she dreamed. In her mind, she was replaying the fight with Buffy that had put her here, feeling again the stab of pain as Buffy's dagger pierced the skin of her abdomen...
Replaying *that night* with Xander, the ecstasy and the slight pang of regret when she kicked him out...
Replaying the time that Xander had come to her to try to help her after she killed Allan Finch, the anger, the fear, and the shock when she discovered that she was strangling Xander, and he wasn't even *trying* to defend himself...
Replaying the times in her life she'd felt truly accepted, before Linda was killed before her eyes by Kakistos, and again when Mayor Wilkins had taken her in...
As her mind began the long climb to wakefulness, she heard fragments of conversation from outside of the door of the room that the Mayor's insurance had paid for.
"... her room..."
"... doctor... preliminary examination... move her... Miramar..."
"...? Why not Los Angeles?"
"... special circumstances..."
As the voices trailed off, and she faintly heard the door open, her eyes fluttered open.
Faith Williams, Vampire Slayer, was awake, and she wanted one thing.
"Water..." she croaked through a dry throat.
"W't'r..." was what the two doctors heard when they entered the room.
"Of course, she could wake up at any time," the civilian doctor said, barely batting an eye at seeing a patient that she'd semi-confidently predicted would remain in a coma-like state for somewhere between the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours awake and asking for a drink.
"Of course," the Army surgeon agreed dryly. "Doctors are never wrong, are we?"
"Of course not," the doctor said mock-indignantly. "We're just... sometimes not entirely accurate."
"Indeed," the surgeon said with a small grin. "Can you see any reason why she should not be allowed a glass of water?"
"No," the doctor replied. "However, I would not recommend the reintroduction of solid food at this time."
Faith heard that and grimaced slightly. <More being fed through a tube in my arm.> She heard the doctor instruct a nurse to get a cup of ice chips, and then the other doctor - the one in uniform - was standing by her bed. <Why is the Army here?> she thought muzzily, having no idea of what had happened over the last two days. <Am I in *that* much trouble that the soldiers have been sent to pick me up?>
<Or have they been told who I am, and simply aren't taking any chances?>
The thought that she might be considered dangerous, despite the fact that they'd expected her to still be in a coma, almost made her laugh. The only reason she didn't laugh out loud was the fact that she was simply still too weak.
"Faith Williams?"
Focusing her eyes on the source of that voice, she saw a smiling uniformed officer whose uniform was adorned with a staff with a snake entwined around it, overlaying a cross on one collar lapel, and a silver eagle identifying his rank as Colonel on the other.
"I'm Doctor Henry Roberts, in charge of the Three-Thirty-Fifth Mobile Army Surgical Hospital."
"'s th't like 'n MASH?" she asked weakly, and mangling half the words. Where *was* that drink?
Despite her slurring, Roberts understood her well enough, and chuckled lightly. "Something like that, Faith - you don't mind if I call you Faith, do you?" When Faith shook her head, he continued, "In fact, that's what MASH stands for."
"Oh... 'k." Dammit, she *really* needed that drink.
Roberts had taken a seat beside her bed and was reading her record. "According to this, Faith, you've been quite badly hurt, but you should make a full recovery."
"G't stabbed... fell... hit m' head," she said.
"Yes, Faith, we know that, and we know the circumstances leading up to you receiving those injuries," Roberts said, and there must have been some sort of alarmed expression of her face, because he hastened to add, "Oh, you're not under arrest, Faith. Sunnydale is under military occupation now, and military law applies. There'll be an investigation, of course, but from what I've heard, Mister Finch's death will be recorded as an unfortunate accident." Roberts sighed. "I've been involved with treating the wounded from such incidents, Faith, and the casualties are not limited to those with physical injuries."
Just then a new voice chipped in, "Which is where I come in."
Struggling to focus past Roberts, all Faith was able to see was a green blur - for some reason, her eyes didn't want to work properly. Roberts, with his functioning eyesight, *was* able to identify the new arrival. "Hi, Rabbi - Sam," he said, correcting himself. "What brings you here, and when did you arrive?"
The blur moved closer, and Faith was finally able to focus her eyes on another smiling face, topped by greying brown hair, and the insignia on his collar was a gold oak leaf and a Star of David. "To answer your questions, Henry, I'm here to help move the patients - along with helping with any spiritual needs they might have - and I arrived not long after you did."
"Is Jim with you?"
"No, he went to Washington with the others, so I'm all that's available," he said with self-deprecating humour.
<Others? What others? And while I'm asking questions, *why* is the military in charge of Sunnydale?> She would have asked - croaked, rather - those questions, but her attention was drawn to the plastic cup in his hand which was half full of chipped ice, the sight of which caused the inside of her mouth to shrivel up even more, so that its already dry state began to resemble the Mojave desert.
"I suppose we'll just have to make do, then," Roberts returned with a smile. For some reason, this banter reminded Faith of something, but she couldn't *quite* remember *what*, exactly, it was...
Roberts saw the cup in Sam's hand as well, and his smile broadened. "They have you doing nurse's work now, Sam?" he asked with a chuckle.
"Just for that, young man," Sam replied to someone who was his age, "when you get a chance tonight, you're paying a visit for a game of chess."
Roberts mock-groaned. "Me and my big mouth," he moaned.
"Too right," Sam said with a grin. Pulling up another chair, he sat in it and handed the cup to Faith. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Rabbi Sam Berkowitz, but I insist that you call me Sam," he said offering a hand for her to shake. "I come bearing gifts, but I'm not Greek, so you don't have to worry," he added, still grinning. The classical allusion went over her head, but Roberts groaned again, which Sam pointedly ignored.
Lifting a hand without tangling the IV line that was plugged into her proved to be a challenge. <Damn, I'm weak. But I'm still *alive*, so that has to count for something.> "Hi Sam," she said as clearly as possible before shaking his hand. Once the formalities were out of the way, she lifted the cup to her mouth, and was preparing to tip the whole lot into her mouth in one go...
She was gently restrained by Roberts, who said, "One at a time, Faith. I'd be willing to bet that your mouth is quite dry - almost desert-like, in fact - but you need to be careful."
Faith grimaced again, but obeyed the gently-phrased orders. Popping an ice chip in her mouth, she found that while it melted quickly, the water was quickly absorbed by the tissues within her mouth. After another ice chip went the same route, she felt that she could speak clearly enough to be understood without any effort. "Why is the military in Sunnydale?" she asked.
She noticed Roberts and Sam exchange glances before Sam said gently. "Well, it's like this, Faith. Mayor Wilkins completed his Ascension, and immediately started killing people."
Faith gasped in horror at that. She'd known that the mayor was going to become a demon, with the goal of becoming world ruler, or something - he'd always been goal-oriented - and she was going to be at his right hand. However, she hadn't counted on him going on a killing rampage straight away, or if she had, her subconscious had buried it so deep in the back of her mind that she never thought about it.
She looked at the two officers with a horrified expression. "Then what happened?" she asked.
"The graduating class drew weapons and started fighting him, along with the vampires that showed up, led by Elizabeth Summers and Alexander Harris."
Faith's mind was awhirl with the fact that they were casually talking about vampires and demons, when something occurred to her. <Elizabeth Summers? Alexander Harris? Buffy and *Xander*?> "Are you trying to tell me," she said slowly, "that Buffy and *Xander* led the fighting? Buffy, I can understand, since she's... well, special, but Xander..." The Xander she knew wouldn't have been able to do something like that. Sure, he would have *tried*, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't imagine Xander pulling anything like that off.
"Elizabeth - Buffy - is a Slayer, yes. But according to the reports of the survivors, Xander was the one leading the armed students, showing quite good leadership skills, I'm told."
Through the shock of learning that Xander was more capable than she'd given him credit for, one word in what Sam had said stood out clearly. "S-survivors?" she asked timidly.
The expressions on both officers' faces sagged in a heartbeat. "Faith," Sam said gently, "apart from a vehicle convoy of about a thousand people, and the patients of this hospital, there are no signs that anyone else made it out of Sunnydale alive."
Faith's world shattered with that statement. <He... killed... thousands,> she thought numbly. <Almost everyone in Sunnydale.>
One conclusion was inescapable.
<And I helped him.>
One fact uppermost in her mind.
<It's my fault. If I'd told the Scoobies - made them listen to me somehow - I could have stopped this.>
"Oh, no..." she moaned as tears began to fill her eyes. "What happened?" she asked brokenly.
Sam's expression was concerned. "Apparently, Xander had wired the school with explosives and the plan called for Buffy to lead the transformed mayor into the school, at which point the explosives would be detonated, after Buffy had gotten a chance to get clear," he said, watching her closely.
Under other circumstances, she would have objected - strenuously - to anyone looking at her like that. But, he seemed more worried for her than... anything else. Through the bedlam that now passed for Faith's thought processes, she grasped the fact that seemed obvious to her. "The plan was Xander's?" she asked. When Sam nodded, she continued, "I bet that hit him hard."
"You have no idea," Sam said grimly. "When he arrived at Miramar Naval Air Station, he was near catatonic due to emotional trauma. He's started to recover, but that's only due to the help of all of his friends, especially Buffy and her mother."
<Yeah, that sounds about right,> Faith thought dazedly. <The X-man's the sort who would take this shit personally, and Mrs. S would be the one to offer him help to deal with it.> She wished that she'd had the chance. <But I thought B'd be too wrapped up with Fang to notice the X-man.>
"So, what went wrong, then?" she asked, trying to piece together that day's events.
"It seems that when it came time to detonate the explosives, they failed to detonate. It was at that point that Xander called for a retreat. In fact, he was willing to sacrifice himself as rearguard to allow the others to escape."
<Dammit, X-man!> Faith thought with some dazed respect. <I knew you had that whole 'brave/stupid/what's the diff?' thing going, but I never thought you'd take it *this* far.> "Who stopped him?" she asked.
"It seems that Buffy was unwilling to leave Xander behind, so Angel knocked him out in order to get the *both* of them to safety, and stayed behind himself," Sam replied, with a mixture of sorrow and respect.
<Damn, who'd'a thunk it? Fang sacrificing himself for B... yeah, I can understand that. But sacrificing himself for the X-man?>
"Why did Xander take it so hard?" she asked, trying to get her thoughts into some sort of order.
"He believed - and still does, to a limited degree - that every death at Graduation and throughout the rest of the day was his fault. It was his plan, he reasoned, so it was his fault," Sam said.
Faith let out a bitter chuckle. "Maybe we should get together for a chat, then," she said sourly. "I'm sure there's enough blame to go around. After all, I could have stopped him before all this happened."
Without allowing either Sam or Roberts to get a word in edgeways, she launched into a description of everything she'd done while in Wilkins' service.
The lead units of the Fifth Infantry swept past the remains of the school. As the troops riding in the Bradleys looked at the site where the initial massacre had started, most felt a cold shiver run down their spines and more than a few crossed themselves. Resistance had been patchy so far; after the first few contacts confirmed what they were fighting - and proven their vulnerabilities - the troops had set to with a will, eliminating every vampire they encountered.
In fact, the reason that it had taken nearly three hours to reach the rubble of the school was that the soldiers had been *very* thorough in cleaning out positions where the vampires had chosen to make a stand.
It was probably a good thing that Sunnydale was going to be abandoned after the operation, as at the first sign of resistance, the troops had simply stood off and flattened the houses with sheer firepower, killing the vampires through exposure to sunlight or simply by inflicting gross physical damage on them. On the other side of that coin, however, casualties had been light, almost non-existent, after those first few contacts.
Although no fire came at them from the rubble, some tanks and Bradleys shot at it anyway. <Just being thorough> was what the soldiers told themselves, if they thought about it at all.
But the fact of the matter was that they felt a surge of... something, and those who fired had simply given in to the urge to lash out at whatever was causing that feeling.
If the Hellmouth - or the denizens of the dimension on the other side - even noticed, there was no sign.
Sitting in the public gallery of the House of Representatives, Xander had been fidgeting throughout the whole special Joint Session. "Relax, Xander," Joyce, who was sitting beside him, whispered in his ear.
"How can I?" Xander replied, running a finger around the tight-seeming collar. "This damn suit *itches*."
"Don't worry about it," Buffy, who was sitting on his other side, whispered in his other ear, causing an indefinable shiver to run down his spine. "Besides, I think it looks good on you," she added, picking up his hand and giving it a brief squeeze.
Xander was, much to his horror, actually wearing a suit that had been provided to him for the trip to Washington. When Jim had told him of the trip, he'd been nearly incoherent. In the end, Jim had been forced to tell him *who* had invited them, despite the fact that he'd been trying to keep it a surprise.
Xander and Buffy had been reduced to open-mouthed shock, while Willow squeaked, "T-the P-P-*President*? The President of *America*?"
Oz's response had been a considerably more restrained, "Hmm..."
"There's only one President, Willow," Jim had chuckled, choosing to leave Oz's response alone for the moment.
"But we've got nothing to wear!" Buffy had protested, after she'd regained the ability to speak.
"Don't worry about it, Buffy," Jim had said. "I'm sure something suitable will be provided for you." He'd said this with absolute certainty that he was right, having discreetly quizzed Joyce about their clothes sizes.
He still had one more bombshell left, and he launched it with a smile on his face. "Something will be provided for you and Rupert as well, Joyce."
Both Joyce and Giles had gone non-verbal - which was the first time *any* of them had seen Giles reduced to speechlessness - which had gotten a chuckle from the four teens.
If there'd been a touch of satisfaction in those chuckles... well, it had been a small touch.
"You really think so, Buff?" Xander asked, glancing down at the suit with an expression of scepticism.
"Really," she assured him with a smile.
"Thanks, Buff. You look pretty good yourself," Xander replied, taking in the deep green dress she was wearing. Even though the cut was conservative, the colour matched the colour of her eyes, and the small gold crucifix on a thin gold chain around her neck was a nice touch.
"You think so, Xand?" she asked with a slight blush.
"Sure," he said simply, but with complete honesty.
Buffy smiled at him, and squeezed his hand - which she hadn't let go of - again. Unnoticed by them, Joyce - wearing a blue dress which was matched with a set of sapphire earrings leant to her by the wife of Miramar's commanding officer - Oz - in a suit similar to Xander's - and Willow - in a deep red dress that contrasted nicely with her fair complexion and a set of emerald earrings - were exchanging looks and smiles. Giles, who was sitting on the other side of Oz and Willow - who were on the other side of Joyce from Buffy and Xander - seemed a little awed by where he was, and what was about to happen next.
On the floor of the House, the Secretary of the Interior and the Secretary of Defence had finished giving their report on what had happened at Sunnydale. Although sceptical at first, the elected representatives had been convinced by the ABC News footage, the imagery taken from the Predator drones and Kiowa scout helicopters, and statements from the survivors, combined with imagery selected from the first two hours of Operation Grey Knights.
There had been a good deal of anger at first, most of it directed at the Council of Watchers - a summarised version of Giles' information had been made available the previous night. But when the Secretary of State had presented Ambassador Thomson's report on what had happened when he visited the Council, a noise of satisfaction and approval rolled around the chamber.
'This is *our* country, goddammit,' the general sentiment went. 'We kicked the Brits out over two hundred years ago, so where do they get off meddling in our affairs like this?'
A motion had been tabled, seconded and unanimously passed - in record time - that the Council of Watchers be placed on the list of banned organisations in America.
When the SecDef's report reached the part involving Xander's plan, and the leadership shown by him and Buffy during the brief battle, they cringed and blushed furiously while the House gave them a standing ovation for five minutes solid, before both Xander and Buffy managed to stammer through their 'thank you's, which caused another three-minute standing ovation
When the House heard of Angel's sacrifice, they tabled, seconded and unanimously passed another motion - even faster than the first one banning the Council of Watchers - expressing the condolences of the House, causing Buffy to start weeping quietly as Xander held her in a comforting embrace. Seeing that, one by one by small groups, *every single one* of the elected representatives stood for a minute's silence, along with the public gallery, and - to some silent surprise - the occupants of the media gallery, widely regarded to be some of the most cynical reporters on the planet.
When the minute was over, and as the President stood up to speak, there were some perplexed-shading-to-annoyed mutters starting up, wondering why the young heroes of the tragedy hadn't been rewarded. With the President's first few words, however, the mutters stopped dead.
"Honourable Representatives, today you have heard of the tragic events in Sunnydale, of the terrible loss of life that occurred, and the incredible bravery and noble sacrifice that prevented the loss of life from being total." He was forced to pause as the House broke into applause again.
"You have been made aware of the threats that face our species, and of the young people who averted these threats, thus allowing us to continue living, even though we knew nothing of it." Another round of applause, tempered this time with a touch of shame that a group of teenagers should be forced to take up such a heavy burden.
"You have heard of the organisation that, for centuries - if not longer! - has worked to ensure that the human species as a whole never finds out about the young women they essentially abduct to fight *their* battles while they remain safe." This time, there was a resounding chorus of jeers and boos that, if there was any natural justice in the universe, would have been heard by the Council of Watchers.
"However, we are now in a position to recognise the bravery of those who have stepped forward and accepted the burden of keeping our world safe. Today, we will present four extremely brave young people with this nation's highest award for bravery - the Congressional Medal of Honour. Although this award is normally limited to serving members of the military, I say to you that these four young people *have* been fighting a war - a war with far greater stakes and for a far purer cause than any other war fought in our history."
The President turned and nodded to the Speaker of the House, who rose to his feet and said in his loud, clear voice, "Honourable Members, there is a motion before the House that requires a vote to be passed into the United States Legal Code. The motion is titled, 'Citation to Accompany the Award of the Congressional Medal of Honour', and the text of the motion is as follows:
"In that the Congressional Medal of Honour is the highest award for gallantry while in combat...
"In that the requisite gallantry has been shown...
"Given that, even though the nominated recipients are not members of the Armed Forces of the United States of America, a Presidential Order has been signed giving a dispensation from this requirement...
"It is proposed that the Congressional Medal of Honour be awarded with the following citation:
"'For showing extreme bravery over a period of three years, on several occasions averting the extinction of the human species, and placing the lives of others above their own welfare.'
"To the following recipients: Elizabeth Anne Summers, Vampire Slayer, and her colleagues; Alexander Lavelle Harris, Willow Kathleen Rosenberg and Daniel Francis Osbourne.
"It is also proposed that a posthumous award of the Congressional Medal of Honour be made to Liam Connolly."
With the motion read, the Majority Leader of the House stood up. "Mister Speaker, I would be honoured to second the motion."
The Minority Leader stood up as well. "Mister Speaker, in light of recent events, I say it would be churlish in the extreme to debate the motion. I say that we proceed directly to a voice vote," he said, and paused to scan the House. "What say you, fellow Representatives?"
The response was quick in coming, and unanimous. "AYE!"
The Speaker said, "With the approval of the House, I close the floor to debate, and open the motion to be voted on. As this is a voice vote, a simple 'Aye' or 'Nay' vote is all that is required."
Virtually every Representative exchanged glances with those Representatives sitting closest to them and nodded decisively.
"AYE!"
"The motion is passed, unanimously and by acclaim," the Speaker said, then turned to face the public gallery, in particular Buffy, Xander, Willow and Oz, who were blushing almost as red as Willow's hair and seemed to be cringing at the attention, which caused a thin smile to flit across the Speaker's face. "Elizabeth Anne Summers, Alexander Lavelle Harris, Willow Kathleen Rosenberg and Daniel Francis Osbourne, step forward and receive the thanks of a grateful-" the next word was supposed to be 'nation', but the Speaker deviated from the script for once, "-planet."
The House broke out into applause once more, as the four teens made their way to the Speaker's podium, with Buffy and Xander holding hands, with Willow and Oz behind them, also holding hands. They stood in a row facing the President, as he opened a medal case and shook out the sky-blue ribbon adorned with stars, before hanging it around Buffy's neck so that the gold medallion rested over her heart and saying, "Your-" he paused and glanced at the Speaker who shrugged minutely, "-planet thanks you, Miss Summers."
"You're welcome, Mister President," she whispered, but a nearby microphone carried her words to the whole House, who burst into applause.
The President repeated the process for Xander, Willow and Oz, with Buffy accepting Angel's award on his behalf, and then whispered to them while the House gave them a standing ovation - making sure there weren't any live microphones nearby - "Stick around for a moment; it's not over yet."
Before any of them could ask what he'd meant by that, the Speaker brought the applause to an end by saying, "Honourable Representatives, Her Majesty's Ambassador has requested the leave of this House to make a presentation on behalf of his government to these four young people."
Startled, the four young people in question could only stare as the British Ambassador took the position set aside for those making an address to the House, accompanied by someone who looked like a member of the embassy staff, who was carrying a briefcase, balanced on his outstretched arms so that it remained level. "Honourable Representatives," he began, his rich English accent filling the room. "I have just been informed of the results of a similar joint sitting of the House of Commons and the House of Lords.
"In that sitting, a motion was tabled declaring the 'Council of Watchers' to be an illegal organisation, placing them on a list with other organisations such as the terrorist movement the Irish Republican Army. This motion was passed by both Houses unanimously. I am directed by both the Prime Minister and Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the Second, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, to express, on behalf of my nation, our regret at harbouring, however inadvertently as the victims of deception, such an organisation.
"Also in that sitting, a second motion was tabled, which would have awarded the George Cross, the highest award for gallantry shown by a civilian, to these four young people."
An angry murmur started to move through the House when it became apparent that *no* such award was going to be made. It was stopped dead when the Ambassador said, "When Her Majesty was informed of this motion, she said, and I quote, 'This is not enough. Those four young people have been fighting a war on *all* of our behalves. The fact that they do not wear a uniform does not mean that they are not soldiers.'
"When Her Majesty's words were made available to Parliament, the motion was modified. Instead of the George Cross, it was proposed that these four young people be awarded the Victoria Cross, Britain's highest award for gallantry on the field of combat.
"The citation reads:
"'For gallantry on the field of combat over a period of three years, in the process, averting the extinction of the human species on a number of occasions, placing the lives of others above their own welfare.'
"For the reasons stated in the citation, this award is made to Elizabeth Anne Summers, Vampire Slayer, and her colleagues; Alexander Lavelle Harris, Willow Kathleen Rosenberg and Daniel Francis Osbourne.
"This award is also awarded posthumously to Liam Connolly."
The Ambassador nodded to the embassy staff member, who stepped forward. Opening the briefcase, he removed a medal case, which he opened and from it, he removed the medal. Leaning forward, he murmured, "I do hope you won't take offense at this," before pinning the medal to her dress so that the brass cross hung on the left side of her chest next to the medallion for the Congressional Medal of Honor. "Your planet thanks you," he said to Buffy.
After repeating the process for Xander, Willow and Oz - with Buffy once again accepting Angel's award on his behalf, he turned to the House and stated, "Additionally another motion was tabled before Parliament, as a citation for the award of the George Cross to two people whose support has proved crucial to the young people whose bravery we are recognising today.
"The citation reads, 'For gallantry shown in supporting the actions of the Slayer and her colleagues over a period of three years. For providing support and comfort to the Slayer and her colleagues, without which, they would not have been able to continue. For gallantry in the face of the enemy.'
"For the reasons stated in the citation, this award is made to Joyce Elizabeth Summers, mother of the Slayer; and to Rupert Adam Giles, Watcher to the Slayer.
"Step forward and receive your awards."
It was hard to say who was more astonished - the teens or the adults - but Joyce and Giles made their way to the front of the House to a standing ovation... an ovation tinged with chagrin that no similar award had been forthcoming from *them*.
After draping the blue-and-white ribbons around their necks - with the silver cross resting over their hearts, the Ambassador said, "Your planet thanks you."
He then motioned for the six of them to turn to face the Representatives before declaring, "Honoured Representatives, I present to you six heroes!"
The standing ovation lasted for fifteen minutes - a new House record.
Operation Grey Knights was rapidly approaching a successful conclusion. All that remained was to secure the Town Hall, and units from the Fourth and Fifth divisions had completed the encirclement almost half-an-hour ago; the operation had paused briefly as the units taking part in the final push shook themselves out into an appropriate formation.
Once that was completed, the line of Bradleys began to rumble towards Town Hall, down streets, through parks, and in one case across one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries. Riding buttoned-up now, vehicle commanders joined gunners in searching for targets, while drivers scanned ahead of them, searching for any obstructions which might hamper the progress of the twenty-ton vehicle. The level of tension was high, with nerves on edge due to the patchy nature of the resistance supplied by the vampires.
Basically, the soldiers could never know if they were going to be shot at or not on a block-by-block basis. In a way this was *worse* than being shot at at every block, as they could have become accustomed to that - to an extent - and taken measures to deal with it.
At least, this time, it didn't look as though they were going to get shot at-
*WHOOSH* ... *WHAM*
*WHOOSH* ... *WHAM*
*WHOOSH* ... *WHAM*
In quick succession, three Bradleys were disabled, two of them being 'mobility kills' caused by damage to the tracks and roadwheels, and the third being hit by a heavier AT-4, which punched through the glacis plate, killing the driver before he even knew what had happened, and destroyed the linkages to the engine and drive train.
The commanders of the other Bradleys swore - almost as one - and popped their smoke grenades - again, almost as one. Their infantry passengers hastily dismounted, anxious to get into a position where they could at least shoot back. Seeking whatever cover they could, they went to ground and waited for the orders to advance.
Hard on the heels of the anti-armour fire came a torrent of small-arms and machine-gun fire, starting off with a few single shots and short bursts, quickly building to a crescendo of fully-automatic fire. Swearing as only frustrated soldiers could, the dismounted infantry took rough aim on where they *thought* the incoming fire was incoming *from* and started to return their compliments. <Let's get this over with,> most were thinking, and those closest to their platoon commanders could hear said officers shouting into radio handsets, making contact reports and requesting support fires ASAP.
The M-577 command vehicle - a modified M-113 with no weapons, apart from a pintle-mounted machine gun, and more radios - had enough radios to allow the battalion commander and his staff to listen into the radio networks of all four companies under his command. From the reports coming in, it seemed that eight of the twelve platoons in the battalion were in contact.
"CONTACT! Charlie-Two-Two..."
"... Charlie-Three-One is under heavy fire, small-arms and anti-armour, at Grid..."
"... Hotel-Golf Niner-Eight-Two-Three, Five-Niner-One-Four. CASREP as follows..."
"... four Kilo-India-Alpha, niner Whiskey-India-Alpha. Require immediate Dustoff and Medevac. Two Bradleys disabled..."
That report caused the battalion commander to wince. Thirteen casualties in a platoon of thirty was almost half, which meant that platoon was combat ineffective, unless under the most dire of circumstances.
"... request supporting fire Alpha-Sierra-Alpha-Papa..."
"... target is enemy in buildings, unknown strength..."
"... target is enemy in field fortifications, unknown strength..."
"... enemy in large commercial building, unknown strength, estimated at platoon-plus..."
That last report sounded like the vampires had taken over the local mall, which didn't come as any great surprise.
The battalion commander nodded to the signaller who was operating the radio set to the frequency of the brigade's attached artillery, who began the request for support fire. "Alpha-Five-Bravo-Delta-Six-Six, this is India-Five-Bravo-Charlie-Six-Six. Fire mission, over."
The Fourth of the Fifty-Sixth wasn't the only unit requesting fire support at that moment.
"Fire mission! Fourth of the Fifty-Sixth requests support fire on the following targets..."
"Fire mission! Second of the Twenty-Second requests support fire..."
The commander of the Fifth Division's artillery watched as the fire support requests were logged and plotted. All three battalions involved in the final stages of Operation Grey Knights had encountered heavy opposition, it seemed, and needed support to back up their 'organic' mortar assets. As the logged targets were plotted, a pattern became obvious - they were in a near-perfect semi-circle around Sunnydale Town Hall, and he was willing to bet that his counterpart in the Fourth was receiving similar requests for support fires.
There was no option, really. "All support requests granted, one battery per, and tube artillery only," he said. "Someone call the corps-level artillery, and pass on any requests that we can't handle."
He stood at the plotting table and watched, while behind him, the signallers made contact with the platoon commanders who had requested fire support and began talking them through the process of directing spotting rounds onto the targets. Once that was achieved, the Paladins would deliver three rounds in rapid succession.
It was a virtuoso display of precision timing and brute firepower. Most of the shells hit their targets, and the hundredth-of-a-second delay on the fuses meant that the projectile penetrated the building before exploding. Houses and shops were ripped apart by the barrage, and the vampires inside them were either shredded by the shell fragments or immolated by the sunlight that was now pouring into the wrecked buildings.
A couple of shells hit the Sunnydale Mall, bringing half of it to the ground in a slide of rubble and debris, but the other half remained intact, and the surviving vampires - those who hadn't been caught by shrapnel or sunlight - shook off their disorientation before resuming their positions and resuming fire in the general direction of the infantry who, for some reason, had yet to resume their advance.
This was repeated in the handful of houses and shops that had survived the artillery barrage, and the amount of fire directed at the infantry began to increase, although it never reached the level of before the barrage.
However, the artillery wasn't the only support fire that would make its presence felt.
A minute after the artillery stopped, a company of Apache helicopter gunships swept over the area, raking the surviving houses with rounds from their 30mm nose-mounted chain guns. Those rounds were designed to destroy light armoured vehicles, and to penetrate the weaker top and rear armour of tanks. What they did to the vampires they hit was pretty much indescribable, apart from the end result - a pile of dust.
After the strafing run was completed, the gunships came about for another pass, this time firing unguided rockets into buildings. More houses and shops crumpled into rubble, but as three Apaches lined up to flatten what was left of the mall, three vampires stood up, hefting olive-drab tubes to their shoulders.
FIM-92 Stinger anti-aircraft missiles.
Despite the vampires' lack of experience with modern weaponry, the Stinger - like the LAW - has easy-to-understand instructions printed on the tube, although it was fortunate for the vampires that these three Stingers were a complete set of missile tube and firing grip.
<Remove caps. Point at target, and pull trigger in half-way. Wait for the tone, and then pull trigger all the way. Sounds simple enough,> the vampires who had laid claim to the Stingers thought as they fired them.
The surprise of seeing anti-aircraft missiles pointed at them caused the Apache pilots to hesitate for a crucial fraction of a second before commencing evasive manoeuvres.
One Apache fireballed as a Stinger scored a direct hit on its canopy.
The second Apache managed to sideslip out of the way at the last moment, and the Stinger locked onto one of the decoy flares being dropped and ploughed into the ground, causing no more damage than a small crater.
The third Apache also managed to sideslip, but in the heat of the moment, the pilot's foot slipped and pressed one of the pedals that controlled the tail rotor, causing the Apache to come about broadside to the mall. The Stinger blew off the tail rotor and, with nothing to counteract the torque generated by the main rotor, the Apache went into a flat spin. Fortunately, the pilot managed to cut the engine and autorotate to a hard - yet survivable - landing in a nearby park.
As soldiers raced to get the crew out of the crashed helicopter, both the pilot and gunner thanked God that they were still alive.
The other Apaches in the company immediately vented their rage on the mall, pouring not only their entire loads of 30mm rounds into the building, but emptied *all* of their pods of unguided rockets as well, only stopping because they were out of ammunition, rather than because the target was destroyed.
All that was left was to finish off the few surviving vampires buried in the rubble - which was accomplished by rolling in White Phosphorous grenades - and storming Town Hall.
This was done quickly, simply... and brutally.
Dismounted infantry rushed the building while Bradleys flayed the facade with 25mm fire, which cut off when the infantry got too close to the line of fire to continue firing safely. White Phosphorous grenades were hurled into the windows, with the soldiers only pausing long enough for the phosphorous to settle before entering themselves, mercilessly exterminating vampires as they rolled about, desperately - and futilely - trying to extinguish the flames started by the phosphorous coming into contact with oxygen in the air.
The rest of Town Hall was cleared in the same manner, with WP grenades being tossed into each room before the room was hosed down with automatic weapons fire, and only after that was completed, *then* soldiers would enter the room to ensure that there were no vampires left.
The entire process took half an hour to complete.
Sunnydale was liberated.