Chapter 12; Justice.
Peter Giles ran through the darkened school. He could hear the inhuman screams and cries of combat coming from the cellar, but he could not find a way down. He ran up and down corridors and looked into rooms. Just as he was despairing that he would ever find a way down he came across a shattered door.
The sounds of battle raged from below as light flared and illuminated the corridor where he stood. You could call Peter Giles many things, but you could never call him a coward. He pulled his service revolver from under his jacket and advanced down the stairs into the cellar. As his foot touched the first step the cellar fell totally and utterly quiet.
The Witch and the Slayer sat back to back on the cellar floor. Their bodies were covered in blood and gore from the corpses, both human and demon, that lay about them. Of the Hellmouth there was no sign.
Peter stood in awe of the sight that greeted his eyes as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Bodily fluids from both humans and demons dripped from every surface. Flickering flames from burning corpses cast eerie shadows across the scene of destruction. There in the centre of it all sat the figures of the two girls he had dismissed as sexual deviants only hours before. Now they were dead after doing the job that he should have done. He felt both ashamed and proud.
“BLOODY HELL!” He exclaimed as he saw one of them move.
Willow looked up wearily as she heard the sound of something moving in the cellar, she nudged Kennedy.
“Come on Ken,” She said weakly, “I think we missed one!”
“Let me at it.” Said Kennedy as she struggled to her feet, “I’ll cut the bastard in two.”
She fumbled for her knives, she could only find one, weakly she stood up and looked around the cellar. She could just make out a figure by the stairs.
“I can see ‘im hon’. Let’s get the sod and get the fuck outta ‘ere.”
Willow stood up next to Kennedy and held on to her shoulder to steady herself, this nearly brought the pair of them crashing to the floor again.
“Sweetie,” Said Willow, “You’ve gone all Mockney again.”
“I have?” Asked Kennedy as she staggered towards the figure by the stairs, “Sorry.”
“Miss…” Peter began, “Willow? Kennedy?”
“Hey!” Called Kennedy, “It’s Giles’ dad!”
“It is?” Squeaked Willow as she stood behind Kennedy to hide her nakedness.
“You better come with me.” Said Peter as he held out his hands to the two young women.
An hour found Willow and Kennedy showered, with wounds dressed and wearing clean clothes. They lay side by side on the bed.
“You can come in now we’re decent.” They called to Peter who waited outside their room.
“How do you both feel?” He asked from the door.
“Tired just wouldn’t cover it.” Said Kennedy snuggling up to Willow.
“An’ I thought childbirth was exhausting!” Agreed Willow.
“I’d like to say it’s alright to curl up and go to sleep now,” Explained Peter, “But we better leave, the authorities will come and turn the place up-side-down when they realise something’s wrong.”
“Where shall we go?” Asked Willow.
“I’ll book you a room at the pub where I’m staying; I’ll say you’re my nieces or something.” He started to collect up Willow and Kennedy’s belonging and put them into their cases.
“I hope you’ve got a car ‘cause we’ll never make it if we have to walk.” Said Kennedy as she levered herself off the bed.
“Don’t worry I’ve got everything arranged.” Replied Peter.
It was nearly one o’clock in the morning when Peter and the girls got to the Pub where he was staying. The landlord was not very happy about being called out of bed at such an hour.
“Come on, man,” Said Peter, “I’ve just rescued my nieces from that terrible school and you won’t open up another room?”
The landlord looked to where the two exhausted girls sat and agreed to open up another room for them. It was either the look of shear helplessness on the girl’s faces or the pound note that Peter had given him which softened his heart.
Peter carried the girl’s cases upstairs as they followed slowly behind; he unlocked the room and dropped their suitcases inside the door. He turned and gave Kennedy the key.
“There you are,” He said, “Oh and I made sure it’s got a double bed.”
Kennedy smiled her thanks and steered Willow into the room.
A little while later Peter knocked gently on the girl’s door. Getting no answer he pushed the door open and looked around the corner. Piles of clothes littered the floor. All he could see of the girls was a tangle of red and brown hair on the pillows of the bed. He could hear the sound of gentle snoring as both girls slept the sleep of the totally exhausted. He smiled, switched off the light and closed the door quietly.
Doris looked around at the entrance hall of St. Trinians for the penultimate time. She turned to her lieutenant Mercia.
“Everyone out?” Asked Doris.
“All gone who’s still alive Dor.” Replied Mercia.
“Right then,” Said Doris as she took one last look around the darkened school, “Let’s do it.”
She took the Zippo lighter from her pocket and flicked it into life. She lit the two petrol bombs being held by Mercia. Putting out the lighter and replacing it in her pocket, she took one of the bombs.
“On three.” She ordered. The girls counted together and threw the bombs. They waited just long enough to see that the bombs did their work, and then they ran from the school. Once outside they joined half a dozen other girls who had stayed the course, they were the last of Doris’ tribe.
They sat on a field wall to watch the school burn. One of the younger girls produced a fiddle from somewhere and started to play a cheerful little folk tune called ‘Burne Downe thee Olde Skool’. There being an old folk tune for every occasion.
As the flames burnt higher and higher the Fire Brigade arrived and tried to put the blaze out. This was something that Doris just could not risk. She looked around; someone had thoughtfully parked a petrol tanker on the side of the road near the fire engines. The driver stood watching the fire as he could not get his vehicle down the road with all the fire engines parked in the way.
Doris nodded to a couple of her bigger girls. They jumped off the wall and connected the pipes from the fire brigades pumps to the petrol tanker. No one seemed to notice them work. The girls ran back to their friends and jumped back up onto the wall. There was a massive explosion as the fire brigade pumped thousands of gallons of petrol onto the already burning St. Trinians School.
The girls cheered lustily.
Un-noticed by everyone, which is a neat trick for an eight-foot tall demon, the Et-Agor-Rah demon smiled to himself. Yes it was a pity that St. Trinians was gone. But it did have a habit of reappearing, and there were other girls-schools about, St. Agatha’s in Yorkshire for one. He did not care what his friend had said about women not having the power in later life. Women were always the power behind the throne; they generally brought up the children and filled them with all their own fears and neurosis’s. He also had this feeling that women, in this country at least, were going to come into a lot of power…soon, very soon.
He picked up his suitcase and trudged off into the night. He glanced at his watch.
“Damn!” He said, “Pubs are shut!” No time for that pint now, he thought. “Oh-well,” He said quietly, “There’s always tomorrow…and tomorrow…and tomorrow.”
“REGINALD TIPPETT?” Asked the tall figure in the long black robe that held a scythe in one skeletal hand.
“Yes?” Reginald replied uncertainly.
“GOOD.” Replied the figure, “FOLLOW ME.” It ordered and started to lead him from the cellar.
Reginald turned around to view the scene of death that he had caused, as he did so he noticed himself pinned to the wall by Kennedy’s knife.
“AAGH!” He cried as he stopped to stare at himself, “I’m...I’m dead!”
“OF COURSE YOU ARE.” Said Death as he turned to look at Reginald.
Death knew it was not his place to judge souls, that was the job of others. His job was simply to transport them from one place to another as he was instructed. However, he hoped that whoever had judged this soul had found somewhere really ‘suitable’ for it to go.
“COME, OR YOU WILL BE LATE.” Said Death starting to lose patience with Reginald.
“I’m dead!” Exclaimed Reginald, “How can I be late?”
“IT WAS A JOKE.” Replied Death solemnly.
Suddenly Reginald found himself on a wide flat plain that stretched away to the horizon, where he could just make out some mountains. Everything was grey, the sand he stood on the mountains in the distance, even the sky above him.
“Where am I?” He asked the Grim Reaper.
“THIS IS YOUR AFTERLIFE.” Explained Death.
“Is this it?” He asked he had really expected something grander.
“NOT QUITE.” Replied Death and vanished.
Reginald stood and looked around; he had no idea what he was supposed to do next.
“Maybe someone will come and tell me what I should do.” He said to himself.
He heard the sound like two knives being drawn across each other. He turned to see the figure of a dark haired schoolgirl walking purposely towards him. In her hands she held two razor sharp kitchen knives. She laughed when she saw the look on his face.
Reginald turned and started to run from the girl. Somehow he knew that if he could just reach those mountains in the distance he would be safe. But it did not seem to matter how far or how fast he ran, each time he looked behind him the girl would always be there just one step behind him, and the mountains never got any closer.
As they slept Willow and Kennedy dreamt; they found themselves in a lush green meadow surrounded by great trees, a river ran lazily by where birds flashed back and forth hunting for insects. The sky was a vivid blue dotted with fluffy white clouds, the sun felt warm on their naked bodies.
The girls reached for each other’s hands.
“Do you think we’re dead?” Asked Willow.
“Don’t know,” Replied Kennedy watching the birds fly by, “You’re the cleaver one, you tell me.”
“Well I suppose there’s worse places to be dead in.” Willow said as she felt the cool grass play across her legs. “Why do we always end up naked?” She asked.
“Lucky I guess.” Grinned Kennedy.
“You’re not dead.” Said a female voice from behind them.
They turned to see a stunningly beautiful woman with long red-bronze hair standing a few feet away. She wore a brown leather breastplate decorated with silver studs that flashed in the sunlight. Under her armour she wore a scarlet tunic with intricate embroidery around the edges. Her trousers were checked green and black and were tucked into soft leather boots.
On her hip she carried a great sword with a gold and jewel encrusted hilt. Around her arms and neck she wore beautifully made bracelets and necklaces. When she smiled the sun seemed to shine all the brighter for it.
“Morrigan?” Asked Kennedy.
“Yes my brave Slayer, it is I.” Said the goddess.
“Goddess Morrigan?” Asked Willow stunned, she turned suspiciously to Kennedy, “How do you get to be on first name terms with a goddess?”
“Oh, you know…” Said Kennedy nonchalantly.
“No I don’t, now spill.” Demanded Willow.
When Morrigan laughed it was like listening to the sound of tinkling bells.
“Have no fear little witch; Kennedy’s love for you is safe. I’m not the type of goddess to come between lovers, and you’re not really my type.” She explained.
Willow gazed into the goddess’ sparkling green eyes and knew she was telling the truth.
“Come sit for a while and talk.”
The three women sat by the river; they laughed and joked and talked about their adventures. Eventually Morrigan got up and led the girls back to the meadow.
“It’s time for you to leave now,” Said Morrigan, “When you wake up tomorrow you will find yourselves home again in Seattle. No time will have passed other than the night. You will wake refreshed and all your wounds will be healed.”
“Thank-you,” The girls said together.
“Will we ever see you again?” Asked Willow.
“You can come visit me in your dreams if you like; and I will always be there to watch Kennedy whenever she’s in battle and calls my name.”
“But not as a guardian angel type of thing?” Asked Kennedy.
“No,” Said the goddess, she hesitated for a second, “Well, maybe, once or twice.” She grinned, “I’m a battle goddess for my sake. I’m not going to stand idly around when there’s a good fight in the offing. Just don’t expect me to be there to save your ass all the time.” She turned to Willow, “And that goes double for you my little witch.”
The goddess started to fade from sight as they stood in the meadow, just before she vanished completely her face lost its look of impish happiness.
“Beware ‘The Powers’ my little ones,” She whispered, “They are not as benevolent as they would like you to believe.”
“I wonder what she meant by that.” Said Willow as she woke up in her own bed with Kennedy at her side.
Peter looked down at the empty bed where he had left Willow and Kennedy the night before. All their clothes were still there, and their money. Maybe they had gone back to the future after all. He started to tidy up the clothes strewn across the floor. He saw a book amongst the clothes; it was his copy of ‘A History of Witchcraft’. Willow had seemed really pleased when he had said she could borrow it. He could not understand why she had been so happy, it was just a silly old book, nothing special.
As he picked up the book a note fell from its pages and landed on the floor. Peter picked up the note and read:
First; thank-you for the loan of the book.
Second; please make sure this book gets to Rupert so he can pass it on to me.
Lastly; you can be proud of Rupert, I know we all are.
Just one other thing, never ever mention this to anyone, not even Rupert. Remember the timeline.
Peter smiled and put the note in his pocket.
It was the middle of the night and the Porridgeman sat dejectedly on an old tree stump in the woods. He was dead. He had only lived; fifteen, twenty minutes at most? Now he was dead.
“Agh.” He said sadly, and sighed wetly.
The evil little girls had buried him in lots of deep holes all around the woods. Very quickly the worms and other creatures that lived underground had eaten him. When there was nothing left except his spirit. All the little pieces of his spirit had been drawn together. It is the nature of creatures like the Porridgeman that they will always attempt to reform.
So, now the ghostly Porridgeman just sat there wondering what to do with his after-life. He turned to look when he heard a noise behind him. Coming towards him, bounding between the trees came a very large black dog. It caught sight of the Porridgeman and ran over to him wagging its tail joyfully.
It stopped in front of the Porridgeman and dropped a red-hot smouldering ball at the Porridgeman’s feet. The Hellhound bounded from side to side making all the interspecies signals for, “Throw the ball stupid!”
“AGH?” Said the Porridgeman.
The Hellhound rolled his red burning eyes and used his noise to move the ball closer to the Porridgeman’s feet. Uncertainly the Porridgeman bent down and picked up the ball and threw it.
The Hellhound barked with glee and shot off after the ball. The Porridgeman soon got the hang of the game; and on many a dark stormy night, the Hellhound and the Porridgeman could be seen walking through the midnight countryside playing fetch.
The Porridgeman was dead but ‘The Phantom Dog-Walker’ had been born.
“Dilys?” Came a voice from behind her, she had been so lonely wandering the woods by herself after the ritual.
Dilys turned to see a girl of about her own age in a flowing green dress, she looked very pretty. The girl held her hand out.
“Will you come and play with us?” The Wood Nymph asked smiling.
Dilys looked to see other girls dressed in green laughing and giggling as they played hide and seek between the trees. She took the girls hand and ran off after her laughing; she knew she would never be lonely again.
Maidstone General Hospital, Kent, England 1991.
Doris looked down at the sleeping baby; she turned to look at her daughter as she lay in the hospital bed.
“So, have you decided what you’re going to call my first grand-daughter?” She asked.
“I thought we’d call her ‘Christina’ mum.” Replied her daughter.
Doris considered the name for a moment, ‘Yes, Christina Tyler was a good strong name; ‘Christina the Vampire Slayer’ she hoped…one day…maybe.’
“That’s a lovely name sweetheart.” Doris smiled down at the child and wondered what she would see in her life.
‘DEATH’ appears thanks to Terry Pratchett’s ‘Disc World’ series of books.
Mockney; A joining of the two words Mock and Cockney. Cockney is the dialect of English spoken by the people of the Eastend of London. Mockney is an accent used by TV actors who can’t do a proper Cockney accent, and American actors who think they are doing an English accent.
The accents of the Potentials that Rupert brought from England in BtVS Season 7 were most definitely Mockney, obviously learnt at the ‘Dick van Dyke School of Accents’.
James Masters does a wonderful London type accent (after series two). He sounds surprisingly like Tony Head when Tony’s talking in his normal voice.
As a matter of interest there is a rural version of Mockney called Mummerset.