Ambition 3

"This is a stupid idea."

"It's the law. Faith can get away with it because she dropped out, but I'm not letting you cloister yourself with the undead all day."

I scowled at him. We were standing outside Snyder's office, waiting for the big man himself. Giles had a thick folder of papers in hand.

"Seriously, going to a scholarly institute isn't my idea of fun." At least, not this kind of scholarly institute.

"It's not supposed to be fun" Giles said loftily. "It's supposed to be educational."

"What if I killed and reanimated my classmates?" I wheedled. "Would you really put them at risk like that?"

He gave me a stern look. "That's not funny, and no, you won't do that."

I wilted. "No, I won't, but still is still a waste of time."

Besides, I still couldn't do human resurrection with any real reliability.

"You need to learn the basics of society before you can understand our magic. Besides, you're young enough to receive an education, and thus I am obligated to put you into schooling."

"I'm considered an adult now where I come from! Technically, I was an adult before I even left!"

"Too bad," he said, looking smug. "You're in America now, and you'll abide by their - our rules. Besides, I was able to procure suitable identification – with your actual name on it, even! - and we wouldn't want that to go to waste."

Urge . . . to Planeswalk . . . rising . . .

No; I shook my head vigorously. I couldn't leave yet, not when I'd finally discovered a cache of mystical knowledge, and I'd pay a price much higher than this to gain access to new magic.

Besides, I'd already had to do some quick thinking to explain the lack of evidence I existed, and I didn't want to waste the effort. Giles had been suspicious at first, but after I danced around the subject enough he seemed to get the impression I was some sort of runaway; to my complete surprise, he'd showed up with papers 'proving' my existence - and citizenship - the next day.

I still wasn't sure why he was going through all this effort. Presumably, he benefited somehow by sponsoring my admittance, rather than just letting me read the tomes for a fee. The obvious reason to teach an apprentice was to gain a loyal adherent – maybe he needed some metaphysical muscle? If so, I couldn't help but feel he was either underestimating me or overestimating himself.

I gave him a sidelong look. Was he really that awesome a sorcerer?

"If you're wondering whether you're faster than I am, the answer is 'yes.' However, the books won't follow you out."

"Pfft, run away? Nah, I was just – thinking about - about how much fun I'm going to have!" I finished lamely. He gave me a skeptical look, but didn't comment.

"Giles," a gravelly voice growled, opening the door. "It's time for your appointment. I understand you have another student to shove down my throat?"

"Mr. Daniel's record is exemplary," Giles said, straightening. "I should hope he will be accepted with open arms."

"Exemplary?" The man who could only be Principle Snyder snorted. "It's barely present. He's homeschooled, apparently, and there are practically no records of his existence. There's a birth certificate and a learner's permit for the state of Alaska, and that's all."

"He'll take the placement tests, of course," Giles said, frowning.

"He will," Snyder agreed, beady eyes malevolent, "and he'd better ace them all or I'll stick him in a younger year."

"I'm sure they can't be that hard," I muttered irritably. Magda had literally beat the basic principles of thaumaturgy into my head, being a devout believer in 'the firm stick teaches best.' Compared to that, Sunnydale High should be a walk in the park.

Though, now that I thought about it, a walk in the park for Sunnydale was a lot harder than most places.

"Hmph," Snyder took the papers, then sat down at his desk. "Your placement exams will be on Wednesday. I trust you know where the books are; now get out of my sight."

It might have been the thinly veiled condescension, the way he glared at Giles, or maybe it was just his pasty vampiric complexion, but something about this guy rubbed me the wrong way.

"Nice to meet you as well," I told him unflinchingly, grabbing the schedule. He sneered and made a dismissive motion. My guide beckoned, and we headed towards the library in companionable silence.

I swear, I get no respect. One of these days, I was going to –

. . . You know, that wasn't a bad idea. Making sure Giles wasn't watching, I waggled my fingers in the direction of the office and spawned a minor pestilence.

Vindictive things, swamp hags. Magda wasn't the best with necromancy, but she could conjure up a painful hex like no one's business, and she'd taught me all the best curses a swamp could expel.

"You're going to have to study," Giles said, frowning. I jumped, resisting the urge to hide my hands. "I have the textbooks, but the tests are in three days, and there will be makeup assignments for the parts you missed."

"How exactly did you get him to approve this?" I asked. "I could tell you hated one another."

"Let's just say I negotiated aggressively, and leave it at that." He paused. "And, well, this time there was no criminal record, so it was easier."

My brow furrowed. "Criminal record?"

Giles grimaced. "Buffy."

I put two and two together. "She slay someone in public?"

"Not someone, something. She burned down a gym full of vampires; unfortunately, it was witnessed."

"Ouch."

"Quite."

Behind us, there was a short, panicked scream, followed by cursing and loud thumping.

"Spiders! Spiders!"

"What in the world?" Giles frowned back at Snyder's office door.

"Probably nothing," I told him mildly. He gave me a suspicious look. "What?"

I wouldn't call this hard, per say.

Boring, definitely. Hard? Not really. The history came easy; I may not be Blue, but even I could pull off rote memorization without too much trouble. The math was slightly more difficult, what with the letters mixed in with the numbers, but dogged persistence pulled me through once more.

Or at least, I think my methods were working; the real proof of that would be the placement exams, which were in two days.

As a fringe benefit I was doing my studying in the library, which meant my connection to the mana source under the floor was deepening.

I still didn't know what that was. Giles hadn't mentioned it or Bonded it, but doubtless he knew about it.

The doors of the library slammed open; I jumped.

"Giles! I need a stupid book for a stupid project which is now late because you weren't here when I–" the girl stopped short, frowning at me. "Who are you supposed to be, Johnny Cash?"

"Johnny who?" I think that was an insult. Probably. Judging by tone.

"Wow. That's actually kind of sad." She glanced around, then gave me a wary look. "You aren't some horrific monster in human form waiting for me to turn my back so you can eat me alive, are you?"

"I – I don't know how to respond to that," I told her slowly. "No?"

"Right, 'cause I've never actually seen a normal student in here, you've got a really creepy fashion statement going, and you're neck deep in weird looking demon books." She gestured at the pile around me.

Fashion statement?

I looked down at myself.

What was wrong with black? It hid stains, it was hard to see at night, and the thread count was reasonably high. Good, well-cut clothes were a marvel, and I was actually proud at my perfect duplication of the original.

Whatever. "These books were here when I sat down. Giles said to get the normal stuff done first, so I'm studying."

"He did?" She frowned down at the book in front of me. "What are you even looking at?"

"Automotives," I said, shutting the book with a snap. They'd been fascinating me the entire time I was here, and I'd already finished my history text. "What was your name again?"

"Cordelia," she crossed her arms, then started walking towards the office. "And any real man would have given his name first. Giles!"

Giles stepped out of his office, looking as if he'd slept at his desk. "Yes, Ms. Chase, no need to yell, this is a - good lord – Joshua, have you been here all night?"

Cursory examination told me that it was once more light outside. ". . . Maybe?"

"I told you that you could go home when Buffy did," he said, frowning. "That was six hours ago."

"I don't sleep much." Twelve hours every two days, to be exact. I still wasn't sure if that was a personal quirk or a Black thing.

He peered down at the book in my hands. "Introduction to the Modern Engine?"

"Pet project," I told him cheerfully. "We didn't have anything like them where I was from, and I finished the other stuff already."

Cordelia snorted. "Ah, that explains the outfit, you're Amish! Now, could we get to my problems please?"

Giles sighed. "What can I help you with today, Ms. Chase?"

Cordelia thrust a piece of paper into his hands. Her foot began to tap. "I've been waiting for this book all weekend because you weren't open the last two days."

"That would be fairly typical on the weekend," Giles said, perusing the shelves briefly before pulling a book free. "Though I must say I'm surprised to see you here so early."

Cordelia took the book from him, looking uncomfortable. "Yes, well, it was already late, so I needed to get it done before she lowered my grade any further."

Giles peered at her over his glasses. "So you aren't avoiding Xander."

"None of your business," she snapped, turning in place and hurrying out the door.

We both watched her go in companionable silence.

"Is she always like that?"

"Unfortunately."

"Huh." I contemplated my book for a moment before turning back to Giles. "Does she show up often?"

". . .Unfortunately."

"Damn."

Maybe it was time for bed; I still had all of Tuesday/today to read up on the math stuff.

"Evicted?"

The manager, whose name I never learned, scowled at me. "Yeah, don't think I didn't notice that money you gave me went up in smoke. I don't know how you did it, maybe chemicals, maybe some sort of Houdini crap, but you're out of here."

I weighed my options, then sighed. "If you lost the money, that's your problem, but I'll go. It'll just take me a couple minutes to gather up-"

His hand crept under the counter. "No way. Give me your key and go; I'll sell the crap you left, try to get the money you owe me out of it."

Alright, there's a line between 'that's fair' and 'that's a scumbag move,' and he'd just crossed it. I mean, theoretically I could have done nothing wrong!

"So you're basically robbing me," I said, voice flat. "You do this with all your customers?"

His lip curled up into a sneer as he pulled out some sort of gun-style weapon, small enough to hold in one hand. A pistol, I think. "You have until the count of-"

Unfortunately for him, he made the mistake of meeting my eyes, and I ripped into his mind without a second thought. He fell, limbs jerking sporadically; it wasn't a gentle probe by any stretch. I reached for his memories of me, then tore them out without subtlety or grace.

A blue mage could have done it easier, made him come up with new memories so real he didn't even know they were gone, but I didn't care and neither did Black. Like most spells I knew, this was a brute-force sympathetic connection between me, the victim, and a torrent of loosely directed mana.

When I was finished, I stepped over the drooling body – pausing to grab the gun - and walked calmly towards my apartment. I didn't have that much stuff, just a few knick-knacks and food, but it would be difficult to carry it all. With that in mind, I drug Weasel the Comatose Landlord out into the hallway, then began sorting my things.

Lucky for me, I had a backpack and several grocery bags that I hadn't thrown away yet. It wasn't like I'd never been homeless before; if necessary, I would just find a likely tomb and hole up for the night, no problem.

I opened the door, arms full of stuff and backpack secured, then stopped. There was a girl at the service desk, bending over the body.

"Damn, you really did a number on him," the short brunette said, standing up. "Going somewhere?"

"Going elsewhere," I corrected, stepping out and closing the door with one foot. "Apparently, I'm evicted. What's with Weasel?"

At this point, I honestly didn't care that I couldn't remember his name.

She snorted. "Yeah, that's not gonna work, I heard you arguing; thin walls."

"Eh, worth a shot." I shrugged. "He'll recover, give him a good slap or two."

"That'll help?" She asked dubiously, poking him with her toe.

"No," I admitted, "but it'll make me feel better about getting kicked out. I'm Joshua, and I'd shake your hand, but I'm sort of overloaded."

"Faith," she said, narrowing her eyes at me, "and I'm not dumb enough to fall for that. What are you?"

Wow; that was some serious presence she had there. I started to cast, quickly and carefully.

"Necromancer by trade, runaway by circumstance," I said, considering her for a moment. There was something about her, perhaps the confident stance or the nonchalant threat in her voice that was slightly familiar. I could've sworn I'd heard her name before. "Say, would you happen to know a Buffy, or a Rupert Giles?"

"Name dropping the good guys isn't going to get you out of this," Faith said, cracking her knuckles. "See, I think I gotta be professionally opposed to necromancers picking on - somewhat innocent - sleazebags. You got two choices – one, you let me take you in peaceably, or two, I start breaking things."

Something in me was whispering, very quietly, that now would be a good time to get gone. She wasn't a vampire or demon, but there was something primal and violent in the way she was holding herself that said she'd enjoy pummeling me into paste.

"Right, well-" I threw my groceries at her, followed by the hasty conjuring of an undead squirrel. She swiped the groceries out of the air with a quick, graceful motion and a predatory smile – then shrieked as the squirrel landed on her face and bit down. Faith tried to smack it, but it evaded, executing what I liked to call a flawless clothes-burrow.

Meanwhile, I was out of there the moment my impromptu projectile struck, Faith's angry swearing echoing down the halls behind me. Once out of the building, I turned down the nearest alleyway and then into a shop. The bathroom was unoccupied; I locked myself in, then waited.

If I was pursued, she didn't find me. I breathed a sigh of relief, slumping against the wall.

It was amazing, really, all the experience I had in running away.

Losing the majority of my food would hurt in the short run, but at least I still had the books I necessary for the tests tomorrow. For now, I needed a good spot to lay low. A tomb wouldn't work this time – after all, the first place anyone looks for a necromancer is in a graveyard.

What was it that Giles said to do if I needed to talk to him?

I unzipped the pack – interesting device, zippers – and pulled out the bookmark he'd given me with the string of numbers on it. It took me a couple minutes to figure out the payphone, but through stealthy observation I managed to get it to ring.

"What is it?" The bleary voice came out of the phone, which was a bit of a shock.

"Mr. Giles?" I asked nervously. "I may have a slight problem."

"You did what to Faith?!"

"She forced my hand!"