Okay, this is set, technically, seven days after the OZ crew comes to Sunnydale. A lot of it is flashbacks to that night. This is McManus' point of view.

culture shock

 

Giles says we're normally alright, if we just sit tight and wait for the cavalry.

I can't believe I signed up for this fucking gig. No, I'm not out there fighting, but I can still feel it.

Sit tight. Damn Giles. Tight and tense is all I've been.

You remember, as a kid, when you're just about to go back to school, there's this anticipation and nervousness? Those silent bargains with God, while the leaves fall down all orange around you?

Strange how one goes back to childhood in a crisis.

Today, I'm the narrator. Today, I'm frightened for my life.

Today.

~

"McManus. How you gonna keep us here?"

I couldn't believe that Adebisi - even *Adebisi* - wanted to go back out there with those monsters. The girls were sitting in the corner, eyes closed and hands clasped tight. None of the men had been able to touch them, not that they hadn't tried.

Witches, they said. Lesbians, I guess. As long as they don't have to be scared of my inmates. I almost laughed when Poet tried.

And then I almost cried. Guess I didn't actually teach him anything.

"Adebisi, don't tell me that you're willing to go out there with them?"

"I'm not afraid."

He's full of bravado. He opens the door of the girls' - Willow and Tara, they said - apartment, and go out, and outside. His idiot band follow.

We watch out the windows, ground floor, as he fights the first two things off, and then is grabbed by a third. What happens next, I really don't want to think about ever, ever, again.

But it's there, every time I close my eyes.

He lets out a howl, a noise so ghostly and divine and otherworldly, I can see Alvarez covering his ears out of the corner of my vision. My gaze, my whole attention, is on what comes next.

There's a set of fangs. There's a dark, black pit formed in my stomach. Adebisi goes limp, eyes bulging out like a frog. Just like the worst detox, and what a strange comparison to make while he's dying.

What follows is worse.

I've seen lots of people die. I've never seen them get back up, off the ground, face demented and in the shape of a new species while the rest of the homeboys watch. He smiles at us through the window, and licks his lips.

Beside me, I hear Said whisper, "By Allah..."

To turn the rest of Adebisi's posse doesn't take long.

I turn around, away from the feeding, let my head swivel and take stock of the rest of my ex-prisoners. What the hell I'm going to do with them, I don't know. It's me against the world, I guess.

I'm back behind the glass.

Keller and Beecher are sitting in the dark, in the far corner of the living room. The light from the big bay window doesn't quite reach the pair of them, and all I can see is Keller's eyes. He's transfixed. Beecher is apathetic.

O'Reily and Cyril are in front of them, beside the two girls, voodoo wall still in place. O'Reily's face is one of Shock. Rebadow is behind me, Mukada and Alvarez on my right. Murphy is keeping an eye on the rest - it seems like half of EmCity managed to follow Hill through the gates into the promise-land.

They're good Catholic boys, most of them. Maybe we've just died. It's a lot of blood, and they're Catholic, though no one in this room could ever be considered worthy of their redemption.

Oh God.

I remember thinking, 'that's it.'

We've died, and this is the afterlife. I can believe that, since me and Said are standing full frontal, in front of this big bay window, light from the street lamps showing death, gore, and Hell.

~

That was a while ago. A few days, a week, I'm not really sure. I'm in Giles' apartment, drinking with Rebadow, waiting on the cavalry to come home alive. I was surprised, very surprised, to find who stayed and who didn't.

I half-expected Beecher to stick around.

I sure as hell didn't expect to be waiting for Said and Buffy to come back. But he's always after a crusade.

What comes next, you ask? We have to get an apartment. We have to kill off some vampires - I think that Pancamo and Morales made it out of the city. I haven't heard about them.

We have to find the rest of them, some time. Adebisi and his boys are on the prowl.

Life is the same as always.

~

"What the fuck was that?"

"I don't care. I want the hell out of here."

"Did you see what it did to Adebisi? You're gonna go out there?"

"Adebisi was a stupid nigger."

"He's ten times your size, Shillinger. You wanna take those fuckers on?"

"They're leaving. That's it. I'm outta here."

"Those are, um, kind of, vampires. And I wouldn't go out the front door..."

That was one of the girls. I haven't moved one step from the window, and now I peer back out it. Yes, it seems that the monsters - vampires, were they? - have gone away. And yet, who knows.

I look at my watch, and then almost laugh out loud. Who knows what time it is here? My watch says 6:34 PM. I say conversationally, "What time is it?"

The room goes silent, and everyone is staring at me, I know. Beecher pipes up, "I don't know. The undead fucker stole my watch."

Of course, this seems to make perfect sense right now.

All of a sudden, the scene erupts in a fight. I see Murphy get hit by Shillinger, and Cyril O'Reily jumps on him, beating on the Nazi. For a minute, I want him to rip Shillinger's head off.

And then I want to close my eyes. Pancamo mutters to Morales, and the two of them vanish out the door without another glance. Said moves to sit down on a chair, and steeples his fingers. I'm frozen, deer in the headlights, while O'Reily and Murphy hold back the raving Cyril. Rebadow pushes Hill out of the way, just as Shillinger goes down for what looks like the count.

His eyes are glassy as he stares up at me, head pillowed gently at my feet.

Murphy turns to me, and then to the red-headed girl, gesturing wildly at Cyril. "Do you have anything I can restrain him with?" They close their eyes and mutter a few words, and his eyes, too, become glassy and calm.

O'Reily chooses that moment to grab her arm and hiss, "How the fuck can we get out of here?"

Both of them are frightened, but not nearly enough for two teenage girls in the midst of some very strange, very dangerous men. She points to the door, and says, "Turn right, you can get to the back door. It leads to the street."

Ryan nods, grabs his brother, and hauls him up. Keller and Beecher, I note dully, haven't moved yet. Beecher is slightly behind Keller, who's face is lit up, all of a sudden, by the moon moving from behind a cloud. There's a, a thing, in Keller's face, and there's a nothing in Beecher's, and I wonder sharply what's happened between them, to them, in the last few weeks to put such expressions in their eyes.

The thought sinks down as sharply as it rose up. Ryan nods to Keller, briefly, and the O'Reilys are gone.

I think to myself, I should stop this.

I think next, How the fuck am I gonna stop this?

I prod at Shillinger's body with a booted foot, and shrug helplessly. There is some deep part of my mind that is wondering how I'm going to avoid being stabbed. There's another part wondering what time it is.

I repeat the question, and I guess I'm a little snarky. "What time is it? Can't anyone get a simple question right?"

The redhead answers softly, "It'll be dawn soon. Tara, right? Dawn soon."

In the corner, Beecher is whispering to Keller. That can't be a good sign. As one, they approach me. I shrink back, which makes Keller grin. I get a memory flash of Miguel Alvarez, a young man who didn't know what the fuck was going, on, telling me he liked it when I begged.

Beecher grins crazily, and winks. "We're just going to borrow this Nazi, Tim."

That's Beecher, reverted back to what he was before. Or after. In that place where he had nothing and no one and was free to be as crazy as he wanted to. Oh, god.

Oh, God.

They drag him outside, unafraid, and leave his ass on the lawn. I hope, I really hope, that Adebisi finds him. My head's turned so I can stare out the window at his limp body, and the two lovebirds disappearing down the street.

Maybe they'll come back and find us again.

There's another scuffle, and Alvarez has Ray by the throat. Murphy comes towards him slowly, and Alvarez tightens his grip. Murphy is saying something about no repercussions if he does nothing now, Alvarez is yammering on about not going back to prison.

Ray is begging for Miguel's cooperation, his compassion, his reason.

I lift my hands, examine them. My feet are cement blocks, and I feel the water around my body. Maybe I've been thrown in the river and drowned, like mobsters do to witnesses. I can't seem to move. My hands fall to my sides again, limp.

Everything is limp right now.

Said sits beside me, taking it all in.

Hill finally convinces Alvarez to let Ray go, and Ray sits down on the couch, head in hands. Alvarez hovers by the door, unable to chose between staying and leaving. Murphy is talking to the girls rapidly, trying to figure out what's going on. He makes a phone call, and a horrified expression comes over his face. He looks at me, and says from a great distance away, "There's no more Oswald. We - we don't exist."

I want to explain very patiently how we have to exist, since here we are. We're arguing. We're very likely going to die soon - all those people that want to kill us are roaming around out there. Adebisi is out there.

None of these things have substance. I don't have substance. Shit, maybe we don't exist. This is the afterlife.

Murphy is explaining a lot of things to me, about where we are, what we have to do, how fucked we are. I don't care, not right now. I'm behind the clear walls in EmCity again, staring through the glass. I can feel it. I interrupt him, choke out, "What the fuck time is it?"

Said, who I'd forgotten about sitting beside me and until now silent, replies quietly, "Almost five AM."

The wave breaks over me with this knowledge, and I collapse to the floor. Before I hit my head on the window seat, I chuckle. I haven't fainted since I was ten years old, and at a memorial service for nine dead guards.

~

I come to, of course, and find the redhead looking at me anxiously. Murphy has disappeared, so has the blond. In her place is another blond, a knockout. Rebadow is sitting where Mukada was, and Said is gone.

What a surprise.

I sit up and feel dizzy. I look at my watch, and then hide my wrist in shame. I can't believe my obsession with the time. I can't believe any of this.

"Where's Murphy?"

Rebadow answers, a flat recital of facts. His tone doesn't change throughout. "He went to the police. He's going to tell them that a bunch of dangerous men have escaped and been turned loose." He looks at the ground, and adds, "I don't think it's going to do any good."

I rub my eyes, lean against the window-seat.. Try to find my balance. "And Said? Mukada? Alvarez?"

The blond butts in, "They're fine. They're with Giles. Now, who the hell are you people?"

"We're. I don't know."

I've never said something more truthful to anyone in my entire life.

She turns to the redhead, and says impatiently, "He's been conked out, what happened?"

"Well, Tara and I were practicing.--"

"So, you imported a bunch of bad guys from some prison into Sunnydale."

I interject, "We're not all bad guys."

She rounds on me, and asks sweetly, "And how do we know that?"

I don't answer, just put my head back in my hands. She sighs, impatient still, and points at Rebadow. "You. Who can we trust here?"

He stares through her, tragic mask in place perfectly, mouth pulled down like always. "God talks to me, y'know."

She nods, impressed. "The Powers That Be hardly ever talk to me."

"You know what he says?"

"What?"

"No one."

~

"I'm afraid, y'know."

That's not understatement of the year.

"I know, McManus. How you try to deny that there's a shadow at your back."

Rebadow. I wonder, whether he's safer here or back in EmCity. He lasted in prison for, what? Thirty-five years? Yeah. Much safer back in the promised land of glass.

He's still not entirely okay.

"And where did that knowledge come from, Rebadow?"

I have to keep talking to him. Bob isn't one to go raging against injustice, or raving in the night, or any of that bullshit. He's going to have to be watched... and he's got a safe place to live at Giles'. He'll survive working in all those books.

Bob always liked the library.

"God told me."

What a surprise. "God still talks to you?"

I don't really want him to answer. I want to put the pillow over my head - we're roomies now, Rebadow and I. Every time I wake up and see him beside me, I'm taken back to those hours on the wrong side of the glass.

What if I never, ever get out from under the glass?

"Yes. He does."

He's matter-of-fact about God talking to him.

He's matter-of-fact about everything.

"I thought he lied to you."

My voice is rather matter-of-fact, as well. I can relax, in our little corner of this stinking apartment. The stink, I must assume, is coming from the four extra people staying with the poor man.

I like Giles, even if he's delusional. He doesn't have a microscope over the world.

"Everyone lies. Didn't you say that?"

Rebadow has an amazing memory for random things. I'm sure I've said that to him. Actually, I've probably said that to a lot of people. It sounds like me.

"I guess."

He turns to me, face serious. "He told me something about you. God did."

I don't want to know. I ask anyway. Some things, you just have to find out. "And what's that?"

"That you'll get through this alive, but never get rid of that shadow."

Did I mention that I didn't want to know?

"Okay."

"You know what's really funny?"

What, besides the fact that we've come through a fucking wormhole, left EmCity behind, let a bunch of crazed psychos out on the streets, apparently given Adebisi up to the dark side, joined forces with the side of light and good and cute girls with nice asses... oh, and ended up making friends with people that scare me.

They scare me a lot. Is that what's funny?

"What?"

"We're in another dimension, where there are vampires stalking around the streets - you've seen and described them yourself."

I fail to see the connection. Bob's face is still serious. He's always serious. I can't get past that; everyone's face should have a little piece of that constant disbelief.

"What's so funny about monsters that try and suck your blood, kill you for sport, and should all be locked up in glass cages to gawk at? Sounds right up my alley."

There's cynical me.

Rebadow is studying my expression, trying to see where the line is to be crossed. I think he still feels those glass walls between us. So do I, but I keep feeling the wrong side.

He remembers there's no bell jar caging him in. Tells me, "--And yet you say I'm the one that's delusional."

This is ridiculous. This I can't take. This is going to be the death of me, has been ever since I was ten years old and felt, with certainty, that I could die. I would die. This is nothing new, brought up by shock and trauma and whatever the hell else I want to call myself.

This is absurd, talking to Rebadow about God, this is the death of me.

This is life.

 

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