A couple of minutes later and a dozen blocks away after making a hasty retreat, Faith collapsed onto one of the metal benches in the small park she’d just found, and the Slayer then immediately pulled her cell phone out of her pants pocket. Glancing once more towards the east, Faith noted the first gray signs of dawn there, but by most people’s reckoning, the time was still oh-dark-thirty, which meant she could escape having to actually talk to the geek.
About several years earlier, a very glum Rupert Giles had been trying to think of where to safely place Andrew Wells in that young man’s continued employment with the New Council. While there had been enough blame for everyone back then, that specific Sunnydale native’s high-handed involvement with Angel and Spike’s visit to Rome and then the retrieval of Dana the insane Slayer had, at the very least, contributed to the breakdown of communications between the Fang Gang and the New Council which had resulted in the Los Angeles disaster with Wolfram and Hart plus the Black Thorn’s destruction, and the disappearances or deaths of two souled vampires and their compatriots.
It’d all wound up with Giles having what he’d considered at the time a satisfactory inspiration, in sending Andrew out to search for the copies of the former Council’s secret records. Even though everything had been thought to have been destroyed during the bombing of the organization’s London headquarters by the First Evil’s minions, there’d always been rumors years -- even decades -- before among the lower-ranking Watchers that for security reasons, back-up duplicates of their files and knowledge were hidden away somewhere. Giles himself had frankly doubted this, knowing from actual experience just how paranoid the old Council had been about their records and their unwillingness to allow any chance of others learning that group’s secrets.
However, it was the perfect excuse to get Andrew Wells out
of the Scottish castle that was the New Council’s present center of operations, sending him far, far from where any Watcher, Slayer, and support staff would have to ever again listen to that young man discourse at great length about such puerile popular entertainment as George Lucas’ entire ouevre. Knowing there was the possible chance of actual murder due to this in the near future, Giles had immediately called Andrew into his office, quite willing to make it a definite order if that idio-- Ahem. Obsessed
boy was reluctant in accepting his latest mission.
Worrisomely enough, Andrew had been enthusiastic
about it all. There had been an excessive amount of babble, likening the assignment to a combination of a quest and a treasure hunt, and even including the incomprehensible words “A real Dan Brown story!” Deciding for the sake of his own sanity not to pursue this further, Giles had shooed Andrew out of his office, arranged a fairly reasonable expense account for the younger man, and the head of the New Council thankfully enjoyed the ensuing peace and quiet around the castle for the next several months.
Until at the end of that time, a phone call had been taken by Giles, with this astonished Englishman being informed of the sole outcome that had never even been considered likely, all by Andrew Wells triumphantly declaring that he’d found
the old Council’s cache of records inside a disused tin mine at a remote location in Cornwall. A dazed Giles had then endured a prolonged saga by that bloody wanker of just how he’d managed to do this, with the former California high-school librarian realizing among the verbiage that it basically came down to Andrew annoying so much the people he’d interviewed that they’d basically told him whatever he wanted to know just to make him go away.
It ended with a resigned Giles bestowing upon a proud Andrew the grandiose title of “Master of the Archives” and setting up living quarters for that young man at the now-guarded mine. There, Andrew cheerfully spent the next several years putting everything on-line in the New Council’s computers (Willow had made sure during all this that there wasn’t any repetition of the Moloch incident), referencing and cross-filing several thousand years of Slayer history, and having the time of his life reading through the chronicles of these superhuman young girls. As for the others of this demon-fighting organization, they were more than happy to have Andrew several hundred miles away from the Scottish castle, where the only people in regular contact with him were those of the research and information staff set up to disburse around the clock any knowledge sought by the Watchers and Slayers in the course of their work protecting the world.