Chapter Forty-Six
It was just after seven in the morning when Josh’s cab pulled up to his townhouse, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. He had been awake for nearly thirty-six hours and was more than ready to collapse in bed and sleep for the next week and a half. To pretend the past three weeks were nothing but a reflective mind-trip left over from his college days.
However, having been home for a grant total of five minutes, it was absolutely no surprise when he received a call from the White House. The President wanted to see him at his earliest possible convenience, though advised he get some sleep first because, regardless, it would be a work day.
The thought of returning to the White House in light of everything that had happened—the idea that in just a few hours, he would be standing in the Oval Office with the President of the United States after what he had seen in Natchez—was more than surreal. Surreal times ten. It was like stepping out of the rabbit hole and into the real world again, only the rabbit hole would always be a step back from where he was.
All it took was a step.
He slept for six hours and awoke strangely well rested. He showered, dressed, climbed into his car, and took the familiar drive to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. He walked through security, smiled at Bonnie and Margaret when they greeted him and made the expected, “Good to have you back,” exchange. Through the Bullpen and to his office, stopping once at the awkwardly familiar sight of Donna at her desk, working away as though nothing had happened.
He could almost believe that it was the day after Leo gave him the assignment to meet with Senator Davis, and that the entire Natchez ordeal was the result of a very long, very bad dream.
But no. At home, he had a snow-globe from Willow on his dresser. He had a scratch on his arm from the battle at Longwood, and his ears had yet to stop ringing from the screams that had torn that night apart. And even if all of that weren’t so, the lost, uncomfortable look in Donna’s eyes would have been more than enough.
“Good timing,” she said, jumping to her feet. “You’ve got Senior Staff in five, and a meeting on the Hill with Barnes and Stackhouse to go over 298. They want to attach a rider that has the Majority’s office in a fit of fits.”
“Donna—”
“Also, they’re going to want to sit down with Sam and Toby to go over some of the language—”
“Donna!”
She stopped abruptly and looked at him with interest. “What?”
“You don’t have to be all…” He frowned. “You don’t have to be like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like this! Like you’re being right now.” Josh expelled a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation. “What are you even doing here, anyway? I told you on the plane that I’d give you the rest of the week off.”
“Well, thanks, Joshua, but I prefer to actually be productive and earn my government paycheck.” She handed him a folder and tilted her head. “Besides, if I wasn’t here, you wouldn’t know that you have Senior Staff and a meeting on the Hill at three.”
“You think I can’t read my schedule?”
“Do you even know where I keep your schedule?”
“I could find out. Go home, Donna.”
“Fat chance. Senior Staff, meeting on the Hill. I’ll have some notes ready for you before you go.”
She was gone before he could stop her, and going after her was not an option. Such was the job. He had Senior Staff now, and that was his priority.
It had been only a few hours since he last saw Sam and Toby, but to see them now in work clothes, standing outside the Oval as Mrs. Landingham lectured them on proper protocol while in the White House brought everything full circle.
They were really home.
CJ was the first to spot him, and he didn’t realize just how much he had missed her until she threw him a casual smile. “Josh,” she greeted. “Returned to the land of the living, I hear?”
“More or less, and let’s really not exclude the less.” He nodded at her with a familiar, cocky grin. “’Sup?”
“Just trying to wheedle what’s been happening for the past three weeks from Penn and Teller.”
Josh shrugged. “Nothing big. Saved the world, same old same old.”
It was easy to dismiss Toby and Sam’s simultaneous eye-rolls as annoyance to the Deputy Chief of Staff’s sense of humor rather than his ego. And before CJ could follow up with a smartass comment of her own, they were called into the Oval.
For all intents and purposes, Senior Staff went as it usually did. CJ was told to knock it off on hate crime legislation and to leak the revised budget plan to the press. Sam and Josh were humored to discover that the time Toby had spent trapped inside the Eola Hotel after Spike came forward with his vampirism had gone toward working on the Mendoza confirmation from his laptop. Doing as much as he could, given the perimeters of his authority.
“We don’t have long till the vote,” Leo informed them. “As long as Mendoza can keep his mouth shut between now and next week…” He arched his brows at the Communications Director. “There’s every possibility that he was just being nice while you were away.”
“From one apocalypse to another,” Toby grumbled, inciting a confused look from CJ. “Yeah, okay.”
“We’re also going to need you and Josh to work on this thing for the tariff bill.”
Josh frowned. “I thought we had the votes on that.”
Leo nodded stoically. “We do. We’d just like more.”
“Why? So it’ll really pass?”
The Communications Director was looking at his boss as though he had started speaking Samarian. “Leo, you know how I don’t get along with these people.”
“All the more reason for you to have the meeting.”
“Leo—”
“Toby, if Leo says we need the votes, we need the votes.” The President glanced up from where he had been reading over a report that Charlie had handed him a few seconds earlier. “What’s next?”
“Mr. President—”
“What’s next?”
“We’re getting some questions on secret service detail,” CJ said. “A student in Zoey’s Intro to Film class is reported in saying in the Georgetown Gazette that—”
Leo nodded. “We have the quote. Don’t worry about it.”
“Well, that’s easy to say, but in the meantime, I’m getting questions. And, while effective, my no comment’s are—well—being commented on.” She turned to the President. “I don’t see the danger in bringing forward the number of death threats she has received in correlation with her relationship with Charlie. It’s not like it’s a surprise to the people writing them, and in the meantime, it’ll calm everyone down.”
A pause.
“You think letting it known that the President’s daughter has had her protection upped because of the increase in daily death threats will calm everyone down?” Toby mused. “You don’t think that’ll make the students even more jumpy than they are now?”
“I’m not saying it’ll make the problem go away, Toby, but it would be an improvement from where we are at the moment.”
“Secret service doesn’t comment on procedure,” Leo said. “No comment, CJ.”
“It’s not procedure, Leo, it’s detail.”
The President sighed and dropped the report onto the desk. “For crying out loud, CJ, we’re not commenting. This is a matter of protection, not a security breech. We don’t comment on stories from the Georgetown Gazette. What’s next?”
Sam shrugged. “It would bring hate crimes legislation to the table again.”
Leo gave him a look.
“I’m just saying.” At that, the younger man sighed and rocked a bit on his heels. “I do have a thing, though.”
The President looked up again.
“Well, since CJ’s going to mention in her briefing that we’re back and everything, would there be any harm in issuing a thank you?”
Leo frowned. “To whom?”
The Deputy Chief of Staff’s eyes widened dangerously. “Sam…”
“What’s the problem with issuing a thank you? I mean, we owe them everything, and furthermore—”
Josh perked a brow. “You really want some curious reporter sniffing around people like Buffy Summers and Willow Rosenberg? You really want in a couple weeks some front page feature listing their names, their bios, and that the White House issued a public thanks for events in Natchez that are beyond obscure and will never be fully reported?”
The President shrugged. “Let’s do it.”
Toby and Josh looked at him sharply. “What?”
“Sam has a point. After all, were it not for these people, we wouldn’t be here now, would we?” He nodded at the Press Secretary, who was more than confused. It wouldn’t be long, Josh wagered, before they had to tell her as well. From there, it would be a matter of her believing them. “CJ, Sam’s about to give you some names. At your briefing, I want you to thank them as vaguely as possible for events that, at the time, must remain undisclosed.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to tell you this, then have you go out there dazed and confused.” Off her look, the President held up a hand. “Trust me, you’d be dazed and confused.” He glanced back to Sam. “Give her the names.”
“Mr. President,” Josh began, “are we sure—”
“We’re sure. Sam?”
“Willow Rosenberg,” Sam began as CJ jotted the names down in the margin of her notes. “Rupert Giles, Buffy Summers, Wesley—”
“We’re not thanking Wesley,” Josh blurted. The last thing he wanted was a public thanks to the man that had banged Donna before him, regardless of the hazy line that defined their friendship now. Even regardless of the fact that the man had had no malicious intent. He simply wouldn’t allow it. “I’m putting my foot down at that.”
“Well, that’s rather bold of you, Josh,” the President observed. “Mind telling us why?”
Toby looked at Sam, who caught on immediately.
“It’s all right, Mr. President,” the latter said. “We should really keep this narrowed to the people that were pivotal in what happened. So nix Wesley. That leaves us Sp—ohh. Hrm.” He frowned. “Did we ever learn Spike’s last name?”
The Press Secretary stopped writing. “Spike?”
“We’re not thanking Spike,” Josh intervened again. “At least not publicly. That name just doesn’t do us any favors.”
“His real name is William,” Leo replied. “Fitz pulled up his bio when I had to tell the President all this to begin with.”
The confusion marring CJ’s face deepened. “You all realize that you sound just past the border of crazy right now, right? And I agree with Josh…thanking a guy named Spike sounds like we’re thanking some guy for making that late night opium delivery.”
Toby quirked a small, sardonic smile. “Well, amongst other things.”
“Then use William,” Sam offered. “He helped us out, too, despite being an arrogant jackass.”
Josh grinned. “It all comes out now, doesn’t it?”
CJ was still staring at them like they were crazy. “William what?”
Leo exchanged a dry glance with the President. “Sam,” the former said, “call whoever it is you would need to call and get CJ the last name before the briefing.”
The Deputy Chief of Staff glanced down at that to conceal his grin.
“Josh?” The President coaxed his eyes upward. “You have something funny that you would like to share with the rest of the class?”
He shrugged, still grinning. “You just gave Sam permission to call his girlfriend.”
“Actually, that was Leo, but I don’t think calling your girlfriend is something that requires Presidential approval before picking up a phone. Though that would certainly explain the divorce rate.” He shared an inscrutable smile with his Chief of Staff before glancing back to the others. “What’s next?” A pause. “Nothing? Excellent.”
Though not entirely in sequence, each Staffer nodded and muttered, “Thank you, Mr. President,” as they pivoted to return to their offices. It was fortunate that CJ just happened to be the first one out; though the others had rather been expecting the President to call them back once she was out of earshot.
And called back they were. The President’s previously light disposition replaced with a mask of emotion that he rarely let them see. The full of his concern over the past few days spilling forward without warning.
“Is everyone all right?” he asked as soon as Charlie had shut the door again.
Josh shrugged. “Little tired. Sore.”
“Sore?”
“Saved the world.”
Toby rolled his eyes. “Please don’t listen to him, Mr. President. Josh was selected randomly by Giles to be a part of this thing with Willow and Buffy, and it’s evidently gone to his head.”
“Josh let something go to his head?” The President clutched his chest. “No, my friend. I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“You both remember that I’m in the room, right?”
“Of course. What would be the point of making fun of you if you weren’t here?” Bartlet grinned relentlessly before the look in his eyes turned serious again. “Everyone’s all right?”
Sam shrugged. “Well…I think we’re all a little disoriented.”
“You go through that and the worst you are is disoriented,” Leo offered with a shrug. “Gotta say, could be worse.”
The President glanced to Josh. “How’s Donna?”
“Fine. She came in today even though I said she shouldn’t.”
“Good.” Sam frowned at the sharp look he earned in response. “Well, no offense, Josh, but you’d forget your way to your office if she wasn’t here.”
“Oh no. Why would I be offended by that?”
“Fellas, let’s keep it cool.” The President turned back to the Deputy Chief of Staff. “But she’s handling everything all right?”
Josh quirked a small grin. “I think she would’ve gone back to Sunnydale with these guys if it had been an option.”
Bartlet nodded, more to himself. “You all know I’m going to want to meet this vampire some day,” he said. “Leo says he’s over a hundred years old.”
“A little over a hundred and fifty,” the Chief of Staff confirmed. “At least according to our records.”
“The last thing we need is a vampire in the Oval Office, Mr. President,” Toby observed. “Plus, call it intuition, but I don’t believe you and Spike would get along.”
“Spike’s the one that understood Latin?”
“Yes sir.”
“I like him already.” He turned to Sam. “And this girl that turned into a god?”
“Buffy,” the Deputy Communications Director confirmed with a nod. “She’s fine, I think. Physically, at least, she’s fine. She and Spike are a thing and I think they’re going to be fine…though I would imagine adjustment to being a god would not be something she can just slip into.”
The President nodded thoughtfully. “And this other girl? The one that performed all the voodoo involved?”
A small, affectionate smile crossed Sam’s face at that. “Willow. She’s…she’s fine, too.”
“You would think so,” Josh muttered with a smirk.
“Well, it’s not going to do us any favors, but I do want CJ to grant them a thanks, for what little it means for everything they’ve done,” Bartlet observed. “After all, what’s it worth being President if the country no longer exists? And as soon as we’re through with the Mendoza confirmation, I’ll be issuing them an invitation to the White House.”
Toby and Josh exchanged another look.
“That’s really not a good idea, Mr. President,” the former began.
“Good idea or not, I’m doing it. Call me crazy, but I think it’s in good taste to thank the people that saved the world in person rather than ambiguously over CSPAN. There are some things you just do, boys…regardless of public opinion or poll numbers.” He smiled wanly. “All right, get out of here before you start to bother me.”
Another series of routine nods and the expected goodbyes. No one called them back this time.
CJ was waiting for them when they approached Toby’s office, her eyes wide and expectant. “What was that all about?”
The three men stopped in the middle of the hallway. It was unspoken, but there was a certain air of closeness between them that was just as natural as it was unwanted. Especially Toby, who preferred shutting himself off in his office and banging on the window that separated him from Sam with a bouncy ball when he needed something. They were friends, had been since they joined the campaign, but it was almost now as though they were brothers in arms.
Good to be back, of course. There were just some things that would have to remain private. For now.
“Nothing,” Josh said, moving forward. “We’ve got good news for you, though.”
“What?”
“Sam’s got a new girlfriend.”
She just stared at him. “And this is good news for me, how?”
“Josh—”
“Well, she’s nineteen years old, a college undergrad, and she practices witchcraft.” He grinned unrepentantly. He didn’t like it that it was his job to bring it up, but the weight shift of burden from his shoulders felt remarkable. There. Leave it to the person who didn’t know Willow to tell the Deputy Communications Director how bad this would be for the President. One problem solved, in a manner of speaking. “Try selling that to the Radical Right.”
Just like that, the other was forgotten. The Press Secretary flashed back to Sam. “You’re dating a Wiccan?”
He flustered defensively. “It’s a religion, CJ. And we are a country based on freedom of religion.”
“Yes, but composed of Judeo-Christians. You have any idea—”
“I have many ideas, and none of them are about to stop me from seeing her. This is a different thing. She’s not a call-girl, she’s not my boss’s daughter, and she lives across the country. And nothing short of the next apocalypse is going to change my relationship with her, okay?”
Toby and Josh froze.
“Sam…” the former said slowly.
CJ blinked. “The next what?”
Sam flustered even more so at that; stuttered a bit, shook his head, then moved to excuse himself. “Figure of speech,” he said shortly. “I have to call Willow now to get Spike’s last name.”
He disappeared inside his office the next minute.
Josh didn’t know how he managed to wheedle away from CJ, but he was glad for it. There were too many things on his mind today to worry about being evasive when he spoke about what had happened in Natchez. It would take a while, he presumed, for the feeling to go away. The rawness of being back in a world of rules and order. Where vampires existed only when spoken of. Where it was so easy to forget.
A lump crawled in his throat when he saw Donna working away at her desk. Donna. How had things changed with her so radically? So quickly? One night when the world was supposed to end, and suddenly everything was different. In truth, he had not considered the outcome under the possibility that they would make it back. That night—just two days ago—was supposed to be their last. It hadn’t been; now there was this thing separating him from Donna, and he didn’t know how to work his way around it.
Didn’t know how to get back to where they had been. And despite the complications it created, the uncertainty and discomfort, he would never be able to say he regretted it. Not even in theory.
What this did to their relationship was something else entirely. Best friends weren’t supposed to sleep with each other. At least not best friends like them. Not when she was on his staff. Not when she was untouchable.
If he knew what was good for him, he would approach her, pull her into his office, and let all of this out. Get it out there now. Now when it could become something. Now before it died, and his chance with her had spent itself.
Which was, he supposed, how he ended up standing over Donna’s desk, watching her work.
“Donna?”
She jumped as though she had been thinking of something particularly disgraceful. He knew that jump. He knew her better than he knew anyone, or would know anyone.
She had sat in the Bullpen for nearly two years. Distant. Beyond reach. His Donna.
There must have been something in his voice that drew her back from the mood she had been in earlier, for she was suddenly looking at him seriously, her gaze large and imploring. “Yes?”
A few seconds, and he just looked at her. Watched their entire night together replay within her eyes. Relived his speech to her. Felt her beneath his skin. Remembered everything. Felt everything.
How it happened, he didn’t know. Only that it was the thing to do then. In that moment, it was the thing to do.
“I need you to get me those notes for the meeting on the Hill,” he said, pulling back. And instantly regretting the way her face fell. The wealth of emotion that had been burning there, gone instantly. “And jot down some bullet points for this thing on the tariff bill.”
It took a second before she could will herself to nod. Only a second, but she revealed so much about herself just with that. That one little second.
“Yeah,” she said. “Got it.”
Josh nodded and pulled away, turning back to his office, wondering what the hell he had just done.
Not knowing how much just that stolen moment would haunt him. Not knowing how much it would cost. What it would take to fix it.
He couldn’t think of that, now.
He had this meeting on the Hill.
TBC