Part 7

Sunnydale High, computer class, first period:

'All right, class,' Ms. Calendar said with an enthusiastic smile.  'Start ´em up.'

Twenty fingers rose to twenty switches, and flipped them.  Here and there, there was a yawn of boredom or post party night-weariness.  Rarer were the looks of eager anticipation on the faces of certain students, like Willow.  Cassiel was the only person who looked truly disgusted with the whole affair.

'You´re no good at this, are you?' Kenny muttered, sounding happy about it.

'Beg pardon?' Cassiel replied, in a normal tone of voice that drew the entire class´s attention.  Kenny flinched and hunched down, eyes swiveling left and right.

'Boys, work now, talk during recess,' Ms. Calendar admonished, a slight frown creasing her tanned brow.  'All right class, today we´re going to construct a data retrieval program.'

Cassiel lifted his hand, and when Ms. Calendar nodded, he asked: 'For what type of data, pray tell?'

'Any kind,' Ms. Calendar replied, smiling warmly.  'You can collect information about... about your favorite TV-series, your favorite sport, maybe about England, or even the girl you left behind...'

'Fancy that,' Cassiel replied, his voice decidedly chilly.  'I shall have to consider.'

'Shut up!' Kenny hissed.  'You´re embarrassing me!'

'How´s that?' Cassiel asked, again in a normal tone of voice.

'Will you please be quiet?' Ms. Calendar sighed.  'You can open your manuals and start designing your program.  I want it done at the end of the month, so you´d better get the lead out.'

'You had to talk in class!' Kenny whined as he riffled through his manual.  'You had to make me look bad again, like you did in history class.  Are you trying to hurt my reputation as honour student on purpose?'

Cassiel pointedly ignored him and started typing in codes, without even looking at his manual.

The Master´s Lair, same time:

'He killed them, Master,' the vampire whimpered.  'He just... killed them.'

'Of course he did,' the Old One replied, seeming not the least disturbed about the demise of his minions.  'You bothered him, he retaliated.  His actions are well within the laws of the Hellmouth.'

Darla looked up from the lake of blood and asked: 'What laws?  I didn´t know there were any laws here?  Other than your laws of course, Master.' 

'Oh yes,' the ancient vampire replied with a hideous smile.  'Our friend with the cold hands can´t kill any non-human while on the Hellmouth.  At least not during a volontary attack - it has to be in self-defense, no matter how weak and senseless the assault is.'

He looked with disdain at the huddling vampire and snarled.  'I told you,' he said, 'to bring me the Executioner alive.  You failed me twice.  Once in not finding him before he found me, and in my own lair, and the second time by attacking him in the streets.  You didn´t even recognize him.  Tisk, tisk.'

'I´m sorry, Master,' the vampire squealed.  'Please, I...'

'It´s all right,' the Master assured him, his smile back.  'You are forgiven.  In fact, to show you that I don´t think any less of you, I´m going to give you a special mission.  But you have to be very crafty to perform it.'

'Anything, Master,' the vampire sobbed with relief.  Then he looked up into his liege lord´s scarlet eyes and he froze.

'Yes,' the Master purred, 'anything.'

Sunnydale High, computer class:

'So Willow, how are you doing?' Ms. Calendar asked, leaning over Willow´s shoulder to look at her screen.  'Wow, that´s good!  You´re gonna be rich by the time you´re thirty, if you play your cards right.'

'Thanks,' Willow replied with a small frown.  'But the computer´s awful slow in accepting the codes.  It´s almost as if it´s... it´s busy with something, something big...'

'What the...?' someone said from nearby.  'Where´d it go?  I typed in ten lines of codes, and it´s gone!'

'So´s mine!'  'Hey, I spent ten minutes on this cra...'  'The system´s shot!'  'Did somebody download a virus or something?'  'My screen just went blank!'  'Ms. Calendar!'  'Somebody do something, I can´t stay after hours for this!'  'Ms. Calendar, help!'  '...I´m gonna kick ass on someone!'  'Hey!'

'Calm down, calm down!' Ms. Calendar shouted.  'Let´s just see if we can´t find out what happened, and then we can...'

Click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click-click...

Slowly, everybody´s eyes turned towards Cassiel and Kenny. Kenny was sweating peas and trembling, looking back at everyone with a frozen rictus of a grin on his face.  Cassiel was not paying attention to anyone, tapping away at the keyboard with an expression of patient concentration.

Finally, with a very conclusive gesture, he tapped the last switch and looked up.  'A problem?' he asked, slightly bemused.

'Why is your computer the only one still working?' Cordelia asked from the back of the class, her voice betraying smoldering anger.

'Quite possibly because I´ve just written a rather sophisticated piece of...software´s the term, is it not?' Cassiel replied.  'I´m done, Ms. Calendar.  Would you like to inspect it?'

Sunnydale High, Library, recess:

'He wrote a program that found all the data that people were putting into the computers,' Willow said, nearly in awe.  'Found it, downloaded it and filed it.  He´s a computer genius.'

'Either that or something else,' Buffy grumbled.

'Come on, Buff,' Xander groaned.  'He drank the goop and everything. We´re past that now, right?'  When nobody agreed at once, he repeated: 'Right?  He can´t be a demon, right, Giles?'

'If he is, then he´s an especially crafty and powerful one,' Giles conceded.  'And that kind doesn´t usually pretend to be a, a schoolboy from England.  They´re more into conquering the world and such.'

'Maybe he´s on holiday,' Xander quipped, sarcastically, and started scavenging in his bag for a chocolate bar.

'There was something that was weird,' Willow quavered.  'You know Ms. Calendar?  She put that really cute dolly-thing on the door of the computer class...'

'Yes, a primitive Chinese ward,' Giles said.  'I looked it up.  Fascinating piece of work, but of course it´s only a crude reproduction.  Why?'

'Because Cassiel went all pale when he saw it,' Willow answered, 'and he went away.  I saw him walk towards the bathroom.'

'And then what?' Buffy asked.

'The men´s bathroom, Buffy,' Willow said, frowning.  'Which is not a place where I can go.  You know?'

'Oh, you´ve been worse places, Will,' Xander said.  'Does this bar still look good to you?  ´Cause I´m gonna eat it anyways.'

'Ha!' the Slayer shouted.  'So he is some kind of... whatsit!'

'Don´t get your hopes up, Buffy,' Giles sighed.  'He could just as easily have eaten a bad... um, what is it you people eat that goes bad these days?'

'Burritos,' Xander said with his mouth full of chocolate.  'I had one last Friday, and I practically lived in the bathroom all weekend long.'

'Yes, a bad burrito,' Giles conceded.  'Besides, that Chinese fetish-ward is not really anything to go on.'

'Why not?' the Slayer asked, annoyed.

'Because it´s just a general spirit-ward,' the Watcher sighed.  '`Enter ye not through the door that this symbol seals, ye beings of the other planes.´  It´d even stop you, if you were weak-willed.  These symbols react to anything not of the norm, but they´re relatively weak.'

'Anything not of the norm?' Buffy pressed, hopefully.

'That includes people with uncommonly strong faith, people worshiping a deity not common to the area, dogs with orange eyebrows, and any number of things you care to name,' Giles replied, calmly.  'It´s no good, Buffy, you just can´t go on this... this circumstantial evidence.'

'I can if I wanna,' Buffy sulked.  'I mean, it´s not normal.  Guys aren´t supposed to be Slayer-strong, Watcher-wise and Willow-smart.  Not all in one.  Something´s wrong here, and I can taste it.'

'Look, you´re getting overwrought,' Giles said.  'You´ve got a free period coming up right now, so why don´t you just pull up to the table with a good book.  Read something, improve your mind  And even sleep, if you must.  I´ll wake you when it´s time for your next class.  I can make you a decent cup of tea, if you like.'

'Hot time in the old library tonight,' Xander mumbled, trying to keep fragments of chocolate from spilling out of his mouth.

'I think I´ll take you up on the offer, Giles,' Buffy sighed.  'I´m dog-tired.  Not a lot of sleep last night, what with our little trip to Church and the heavy patrol.'

'Then just sit down right there, and I´ll be back with your tea in a minute,' the Watcher soothed her.  'Xander and Willow, don´t you have somewhere to go...?'

'Nope, recess is here,' Xander said happily.  Willow grabbed him by a sleeve and corrected him: 'Yes, we do.  We have to see a man about a... about a thing.'

'Thing?  Oh yeah, the thing where we leave and Buffy snoozes,' Xander said.  'Right.  Seeya, Buff.'

'´Kay,' Buffy mumbled, her head already resting on her hands, which were pressed flat against the Library table.  'Seeya...' Her eyes closed.

The desert.  The fireballs, hurtling around each other in the sky and screaming at each other.  At least she thought it was screaming at first, but then she regonised odd harmonies, as if the flames were singing at each other.

But the song hurt - there was disagreement and anger, a vast aggression from the largest of the flames.  And the one that was struck down sang of its anger, of betrayal and pain.

Then the flames changed, cooled, drew into a shape.  She could feel the pain, feel the merciless force pressing down on flame, making it... making it flesh!

She couldn´t face it anymore, not when she felt every horrifying squeeze and fold of energy becoming matter, and she looked up at the sky.  More fires, raging against one another, lightning bolts hurled from flame to flame.

But they weren´t really flames.  They were something else.  If she strained, she could almost see the shapes behind the flames.  And she could hear a steady droning, like engines... or wings . Yes, wing-beats.

Then a howl of absolute agony, and she turned around in fright.  Lying down on the earth, a man.  Primitive in shape, short, with dark, curly hair, a squat nose and low eyebrows, but definitely human.

He got up, trembling and shaking as if he´d never walked before, and shook his fists at the great fireball that had turned him into this.  Words spilled out over his big, square teeth, and his black eyes blazed with fury.

Mockery and derision drifted down out of the fire, beating the man down onto his knees - and still he shook his fists at the fire, still he shouted out his insults and rage.

Undaunted.

'Fine then,' a voice sounded.  How could she understand it?  It wasn´t speaking her language, or any other language she understood.  'Fine, be a champion for your new masters.  But wherever you go, know that my curse is with you until you perform a definitive act, traitor.  Now I go, and leave you to your own devises.'

'I will crush everything that you have built on this world!' the man screamed back.  'When you are imprisoned in the Void, you will look back at this world and see me in it, burning your acolites and destroying your prizes!  I will execute everything that holds your name high!'

'Buffy, wake up.  It´s just a nightmare.'

With a gasp, Buffy woke up. Giles was standing next to her with a cup of tea in his hand.  'You were moaning,' he declared.  'I assumed you didn´t want to keep on... er... it was not one of the dreams, was it?'

'It was real weird, Giles,' the Slayer replied, shaking her head vigorously.  'A little like the dreams, but not... not all of it.  What do you know about talking fireballs?'

'Er... I... nothing,' the Watcher replied, blinking furiously.  'Perhaps you´d better tell me the rest of it, because I don´t understand...'

'What about a guy who was a talking fireball once?' Buffy asked.  'A guy who wants to, to whack everything that a talking fireball left behind?'

'`Whack?´ I don´t think that that particular term appears anywhere in my volumes,' Giles sighed, and straightened up again.  'It probably just was a dream, then.  Oh, I´ve brought your tea...'

'I will... um... crush everything you... God, what was it? Yeah, everything you have built on this world,' Buffy said.  'I will... geez... burn your acolites, and I will destroy your prizes.  I will whack... no, execute... all that you... all that holds your name high.  That was it.  Giles?'

The Watcher had gone pale. Without saying a single word, he rushed back into his office.  For a few moments, Buffy could hear books crashing down on the floor, and the sound of a teacup shattering.

'Giles?' she asked, worried, and got up to investigate.  The office was a mess, with papers and books everywhere on the floor, and the broken cup dripping tea on the desk.  In the middle of it all stood the Watcher, clutching a book bound in grey leather.

'Index, index, index,' he muttered, thumbing hurriedly through the brittle-sounding pages.  'Now where is the... Aha!  Yes... yes... execute all that holds your name high.  Dear God, I wish it weren´t so.'

'Giles?' Buffy asked, her voice trembling a little at the edges.  'What´s wrong?'

'A prophecy,' Giles replied, 'and a page out of history.  Both and neither.  In any case, it´s bad news.  Let´s view this out in the sunlight, shall we?'  He walked out of his office without looking up from the book, which he slammed down on the main table.

'Damn,' he whispered.  'I´d hoped... I mean I´d never thought he´d... if I´d even suspected, then of course I would have prepared... but you just can´t know...'

'Giles, you´re wigging me out,' Buffy admonished.  'Spill.'

'Yes,' Giles replied.  'The Executioner.'

'The who?' Buffy asked.

Sunnydale High Library, after school:

'The Executioner´s first chronicled appearance, apparently, was around the same time that primeval man first conceived of writing,' Giles declared, holding up a rather nice photograph of a cave painting.

'Giles, that´s drawing, not writing,' Xander said.  He was leaning back in his chair at the table, obviously unimpressed.

'A picture says more than a thousand words,' was the Librarian´s dour reply.  'If you observe closely, you can see the pictures of three men with staffs, lying flat on their backs.  And here, the figure that is thought to be the Executioner of that day and age, with the single white streak that was probably that time´s equivalent of the Sword of Judgment.'

'So what did they do to him?' Buffy asked. She was sitting more at attention than Xander, for a change.  For all the world, she looked like an eager schoolgirl - like a blond Willow in class.

'Unclear,' the Watcher replied.  'Supposedly they were shamans. Then came the Executioner from the East' - he indicated a picture of a rising sun behind the single upright man-figure - 'and then they were dead.  Slain quickly and brutally.'

'So, is he a demon?' Willow asked.

'Unknown,' Giles answered.  'But Slayers have been having dreams about the same thing that Buffy saw for centuries - and always when the Executioner drew near.  Other than the bit about the, um, fireballs and the, the imprecations shouted, no Slayer ever learned more about the Executioner´s origins.  Neither did the Watchers.'

'But he´s evil, right?' Willow asked.  'I mean, he kills people without reason, doesn´t he?'

'He kills, but the evil as well as the good,' Giles sighed.  'Some of his more recent killing sprees include a circle of flower children at Woodstock and an evil necromancer who was digging up body parts to make himself an army of zombies.  There doesn´t seem to be any common discriminator.'

'But he kills people, so Buffy has to slay him, right?' Xander said.  'Right!  So, how do we regonise him?'

'You don´t,' Giles said.  'What Buffy - and every other Slayer that got close to the Executioner before her - saw, was a homo sapiens neanderthalensis.  But obviously, the Executioner´s appearance has changed since then, or he would have been caught and caged.'

'You mean he used to be a Neanderthal?' Willow asked after a polite silence.

'He used to look like a Neanderthal,' Buffy corrected her.

'Yes,' Giles agreed, 'all the Slayers agree that the human form is not the true shape of the Executioner.  He was once a being of a, a different order, but he betrayed someone, his master most likely, and was doomed to a shape of flesh.  He continued his route of betrayal and, henceforth, of murder and destruction.'

'Why´s he called the Executioner?' Willow asked.  'It sounds a lot like... you know... the Slayer?'

'Hey, wash your mouth!' Buffy snapped.  'I don´t go killing people for no reason.'

'Quite,' the Watcher agreed.  'No one is positive, but it seems that the, um, the entity acquired his current nickname sometime around the eve of the death of Mary, Queen of Scotts.  Otherwise known as the Witch Queen.'

'You don´t mean that this, this guy...' Xander asked with rising horror.

'No, no, impossible,' the Watcher said.  'Perfectly impossible. It´s just a coincidence.  There are older records that allude to the Executioner with words that mean roughly the same thing.'

'So, why is this guy a big, big problem?' Xander asked.  'I mean, we find out who he is, and Buffy gets violent on him.  Stake through the heart,  and pop goes the demon.  What´s the big emergency meeting for?'

'This meeting was scheduled,' Giles replied in dour tones, 'because the Executioner has already killed a hundred Slayers.  And he´s not likely to stop there.'

Part 8
Back to Fanfic Index