Disclaimer: Spoilers through the end of The West Wing, Season 1.

The ending dialogue among the President and his staff, starting with the President's speech, is taken directly from the episode What Kind of Day Has It Been. This excludes, naturally, any references made after said point about any of the Scoobies.
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They had arranged the flight so that, even if there were a delay, they wouldn’t be behind schedule unless the delay went over an hour. Willow was banking on the typical obstacles that one faced when traveling by air, but was not about to let such a thing slow her down. She wanted at least an hour and a half between arrival and the event at Rosslyn. She wanted time to land, check into their hotel, shower, change—make sure she was presentable for meeting the President.

Buffy was equally apprehensive. When the redhead had mentioned that the President wanted to meet her and Spike as well, the Slayer’s eyes had about popped out of her head. It was a sort of jumpiness that one could never prepare for unless the opportunity stepped outside the realm of perhaps and became inevitable.

As expected, Spike was proud that the President had similarly requested an audience with him, but was taking everything in stride. Rather, for the past three days, all he had done was bring up the very few incidents scattered across his patchy past where other heads of state from various nations had shook his hand or demanded he appear before their court.

Those stories were never finished, and for good reason. Willow wagered that Buffy needed no watercolor on how such business was usually conducted with vampires.

Their flight was out of LA with a half hour layover in St. Louis. They were in the air over California forty-five minutes too late, which led to a subsequent mad dash to their connecting flight once they had landed in Missouri. The sort of mad dash that would make John Hughes more than proud.

Three hours later, a desolate Willow was on the phone with Sam, her frustration barely leashed at the way things had turned out.

“Well, we don’t want you in the air if the plane’s having technical difficulties, anyway,” he tried to reassure her. “It’s okay. If you don’t make it to Rosslyn, I’m sure there will be another event very soon that you could see. This one just happened to come up.”

“I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

“I know. But you’re still coming and you still get to meet the President.” Sam sighed. “Really, Willow, this thing isn’t that big a deal. The President’s going to be very casual while trying to appear Presidential at the same time. We still haven’t decided if he should take off his jacket halfway through the thing or not.”

“What does it matter?”

A dry chuckle at that. “More than you think. How are Buffy and Spike?”

The Witch turned to where she had last left them, only to find their seats vacant. An aggravated sigh sounded through her throat. “Either they’re off getting food or are in search of a broom closet.”

“In a public place? Really, have they no—”

“It’s Spike, so no, he has no…he’s rather voyeuristic. And Buffy…well, they’re all rose-bloomy right now. It would be sweet if they weren’t giving every bunny in the world a run for their money.”

“They know they can’t do that in the White House, right?”

“I’ve threatened them both at the stake of Spike’s…parts.”

“Ouch.”

Willow shrugged. “Well, it got the message through.” Another sigh rumbled through her body. “How’s everything else going?”

“Well, Fitz is in with the President now, and there’s some noise, so I think the pilot’s going to be all right. Toby’s about to crucify himself over his brother—”

“Toby has a brother?”

A small sound at that. “I’ve been singing that song all day. Evidently, Toby’s brother is involved in the space program, but there have been some difficulties in a recent…thing. He’s…well, you know Toby.”

Willow grinned slightly at that. “Yeah. Well, you’re probably almost ready for the thing.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you tonight. Ring my cell whenever you get in.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Love you.”

The redhead’s grin broadened, her eyes twinkling even as Buffy and Spike returned, looking ruffled and content, each with a beverage at their disposal. A nice subtle way to look innocent. Even that failed to deflate Willow’s fleeting moment of bliss. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Love you, too.”

The blondes exchanged a secretive look as she said her goodbyes and hung up.

“That lover boy?” Spike drawled, taking a long drink of his coffee.

Hrm. Vampires drank coffee. Who would’ve thought?

“You’re one to talk,” Willow replied, reclining. “Nice with trying to make with the conspicuous.”

Buffy blushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah.” The Witch just chuckled and shook her head, then sobered the next minute, her restlessness making a slow return. “They’re about ready to leave for Rosslyn,” she said. “We’re going to miss the entire thing.”

“Won’ be too much longer,” Spike reasoned with a shrug. “We passed some blokes on the way back. Think they’ll announce the boardin’ here soon.”

“We’re still gonna miss the thing,” Willow complained. “The flight’s going to take up too much time and by the time we land, get to the hotel…I don’t want to meet the President of the United States in sweats and a pullover.”

“You saved the world, Red. You really think the bloke’ll impart judgment on your wardrobe?”

The Slayer licked her lips. “I’m with Will on this one, sweetie. This guy’s…I don’t even know…he’s the President of the United States.”

“You’re scared to meet the President,” the vampire mused, grinning richly. “That’s adorable. Sweetheart, you’re a sodding god. More over, you’ll be around a lot bloody longer than he can ever imagine. We’ll still be livin’ it large when he’s a footnote in history. You save the world, an’ you’re afraid to meet its temporary leader so he can give you thanks?”

A nod at that, unashamed. “Yes. Call me crazy, but yes, I am afraid of meeting the President. Yes, I am. Yes.”

“It’s almost like going to meet Sam’s parents,” Willow added, eyes wide. “Only…it’s the President.”

“Not his parents,” Buffy supplied unhelpfully.

“Unless the President is his father.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’d be able to keep that a secret.”

The vampire grinned and took another drink of his coffee. “Y’never know,” he mused. “Government types can keep all kinds’ve secrets.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Spike, you’ve met two dictators and the Pope. Once. Don’t try to pass yourself off as some expert.”

“Well, have you ever met two dictators an’ the Pope?”

“No.”

“Then I’m more’ve an expert than you are, I’d wager.” His eyes twinkled shamelessly before catching onto something behind her. “Better saddle up, girls,” he said, finishing off his coffee as he fought to his feet. “Think they’re about ready to call our flight.”

“Two dictators?” Buffy asked, almost impressed. “What? Did you have tea with Mussolini?”

Spike smirked at her, picking up her carry-on. “Bloody laugh riot, you are.”

“How about tortellini?” Willow added.

“I hate you all.”

“In a Lamborghini,” the Slayer chimed in, giggling childishly. “Okay, stopping before it becomes too much fun.”

He arched a brow at her. “Yes, ruthless dictators are fun.”

“So says the evil vampire.”

Willow tilted her head in the direction of the terminal. “Guys? Could we…” She motioned between erratically. “Elsewhere, maybe?”

A laugh at that. Spike fished inside his duster pocket for their tickets, handing them to Buffy as they approached the gate. “Spoil our entertainment, will you, Red?”

“That’s what I’m here for.” She heaved a long sigh as they were ushered inward with a rush of people. “Maybe we’ll make it. We could still make it, right? If not for the whole thing, then definitely for the last ten minutes, maybe? Sam says the President can make anything go over schedule.”

Buffy patted her friend on the back. They were approaching the plastic smile of yet another flight attendant. “I’m sure it will, Will.” She turned to Spike for silent verification; he arched his brows and offered a slight grin, then began the familiar struggle with the overhead compartment to store the carry-on.

“We’ll be there in time to hear the end,” the redhead muttered to herself. “We will.”

There was something, though. A growing sensation that she couldn’t blame entirely on apprehension. Her frustration with the airline was overworked and, had it been any other day, she would have been happy to simply crash at the hotel once they arrived. But she wanted to meet the President. She wanted to see the President speak, and she wanted to meet him tonight.

Nerves, then. Her stomach was bound in nerves. It would be all right.

Even if they didn’t make it in time to hear the President speak, it would be all right.

There were always more speeches.

*~*~*

“Is he going to take off his jacket?” Josh asked as he and Sam scouted the back of the auditorium. CJ was busy setting up the press and Toby was around standing like a stoic somewhere. Every few seconds, Sam would check his watch and ask Cathy if he had had any calls. No word yet from Willow.

The event was about to start.

“Sam?”

He jumped. “Yeah?”

Josh arched his brows. “Is the President going to take off his jacket?”

“I really don’t know.”

“You guys didn’t settle that already?”

“Well, it’s been a pretty big day, Josh. It’s not like we didn’t have issues of state to attend to.” A long sigh passed through his lips. “I don’t know if we ever made a decision on the jacket. Last I know, the President was still heckling CJ about the water.”

He glanced to his watch again.

Josh’s expression softened. “She just got on the plane, Sam. It’s going to be a while before she gets here.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, it takes a while to fly from St. Louis to DC unless they’ve upped the technology in ways we should really be more—”

“No. How do you know she got on the plane?”

“She called Cathy.”

That left a sour impression in Sam’s eyes. “Yeah, because that’s something she needs to tell you and not me.”

“She told me to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I kinda just did.” Josh smirked a bit at the look on his friend’s face before turning to the stage once more where the secret service were doing one of their checks. “Leo says he’s going straight to the car after this thing.”

“He never goes straight to the car.”

“There’s a softball game on that he wants to watch.”

“They show softball on television?”

Josh shrugged. “Evidently.” He jutted his chin as one of the Georgetown professors came out to introduce the President. “This thing’s about to start.”

“Okay.”

“She’ll get here fine, Sam.”

“She really wanted to see this.”

“It’s not a big thing. There’ll be others. Lots and lots of others.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Sam drew in a deep breath and turned. “I’m going to go over by CJ. And if there’s any news for Toby, we better make sure one of us gets it just in case it’s bad. Better to come from us than some person he doesn’t know.”

Josh nodded in agreement. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

It was just seconds later that the President was introduced, and he came out as he always did; smiling and waving to an auditorium full of cheers. He looked good tonight, and this was the sort of setting he excelled in. Talking to people. Relating to people, especially students. Somewhere, Zoey was in the crowd and likely trying to find some escape hatch to be at the ready when he started in on her, as all proud fathers do.

The pilot was alive. Sam had a good feeling about Toby’s brother. And now this.

It was a good day. A strange day, but a good one.

Willow would have loved this.

*~*~*

Two hours later, the feeling hadn’t subsided. Rather, with every minute on the plane, her level of anxiety upped. A black cloud looming in the pit of her stomach, gnawing away her insides. Chipping away at her bit by bit. She felt feverish—hot. Perspiration rolled off her skin, her heart was thundering—echoed within the shell of casual, meaningless conversation and the ever-more present claustrophobia. Consumed by something else entirely.

Something was wrong.

Buffy and Spike were critiquing the in-flight movie and laughing quietly at an assortment of private, coupley jokes. Enjoying the view, as the Slayer had been ushered almost immediately to the window seat. That was more than fine with Willow; for whatever reason, she wanted something closer to the aisle. Something where she could get out quickly if need be.

She didn’t see the vampire’s nostrils flare, or the sudden piercing blue of his concerned eyes as his gaze found her face.

The sickness brewing inside wouldn’t go away. There was nothing but that.

Something was wrong.

*~*~*

The laughter of the crowd died down after an appreciative rumble. “Thank you, thank you very much,” the President said. “That was a joke about politicians. There’s another one: two politicians are having an argument; one of them jumps up and shouts, ‘You’re lying!’ And the other one says, ‘Yes, I am, but hear me out.’”

A wry grin tugged at the corner of Sam’s mouth.

This would be one of those nights that Josh reminded everyone that the stage was where the President lived. The man was definitely one of the most skilled public speakers he had ever met.

“A man once said this,” the President continued. “Decisions are made by those who show up. So, are we failing you, or are you failing us?”

“Center for policy control,” Josh yelled from the back at one of the staffers. “CJ’ll have copies for the bus ride back.”

Sam sighed and turned his attention back to the President, his thoughts elsewhere.

Then, suddenly, Bonnie was at his side holding a cell phone.

“Where’s Toby?”

Oh God.

“Why?”

“He’s got a phone call.”

Well, that much was obvious. “From who?”

“Peter Johnson?”

Sam nodded and held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

*~*~*

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. She couldn’t see. Couldn’t breath. Just knew. Knew there somewhere.

Oh god, something was wrong.

*~*~*

Sam could barely keep his smile from his lips. Toby was standing alone, his expression somber. And when he turned to receive the signal that all was clear, the look in his eyes flashed just a bit before he drew in his emotions once more. And he nodded, then turned to relay the message to Josh.

*~*~*

Someone was calling her name. Buffy. There was a motion in the background, but all drown out to the ringing of her ears. She was drenched in sweat, and something sharp had pierced its way through her mind. Burrowing through her, killing her slowly with that reoccurring knowledge.

She didn’t know where she was. All she knew was that something was wrong.

*~*~*

“They’re telling me that we’re out of time,” the President said, a ghost of a smile on his face. “I just want to mention that at several points during the evening, I was referred to as both a liberal and a populist. And the fellow fourth from the back called me a socialist…which is nice, I hadn’t heard that for a while.” A pause at that. “Actually, I’m an economics professor. My great-grandfather’s great-grandfather was Dr. Josiah Bartlet, who was the New Hampshire delegate representative in the second Continental Congress….”

*~*~*

The world was fading around her. She couldn’t see.

*~*~*

“…the one that sat in session in Philadelphia in the summer of 1776 and announced to the world that we were no longer subjects of King George III, but rather a self-governing people.”

*~*~*

“Willow’s plane should be landing soon,” Josh said to Sam as he took position next to him, watching as the President’s closing statements turned from brief to another string of wisdom as presented by Dr. Josiah Bartlet, his great-grandfather’s great-grandfather’s great grandson four times over. “There’s every chance he’ll opt to talk to her rather than watch the softball game.”

Sam just smiled at that.

*~*~*

“‘We hold these truths to be self-evident,’ they said. ‘That all men are created equal.’” The President paused with a soft smile. “Strange as it may seem, that was the first time in history that anyone had ever bothered to write that down. Decisions are made by those who show up. Class dismissed—thank you, everyone. God bless you. And God bless America!”

*~*~*

“Willow! Willow!”

The Witch was sprawled between the aisles, her body thrashing, sweat rolling down her forehead. She was drenched in it. Incoherent words tumbling from her lips, her head whipping back and forth. The passengers were torn between dumb wonder and blind panic. And the flight attendants were hurrying forward with a medical kit.

Buffy’s eyes shot upward, drops of terror stinging her cheeks. “God. Oh God!” Spike met her gaze, his arms cradling the Witch’s head. Watching her with worry. “God, what’s wrong with her?”

*~*~*

The President was just minutes away of emerging from the building, and the crowd formed around the area was growing louder with anticipation. This was the sort of situation that made Gina Toscano nervous. The noise, the people; in seconds, Zoey would be emerging from the building.

And she had a bad feeling about this.

“He’s not working the rope line,” she was saying into her headset. And nodded. “Straight to the car. I’ve got Bookbag.”

*~*~*

The President, accompanied by his Senior Staff, walked into the night air outside Rosslyn to a group of rowdy, screaming fans. A clockwork reaction. Automatically, the thought of going straight to the car was shot to hell.

Behind him was Zoey, walking alongside Charlie, and looking entirely pleased with herself.

“He used it,” she was saying, “and you’re feeling good and you’re looking for a way to thank me.”

“You had nothing to do with it,” he replied, “and you were still unbelievably wrong.”

The President tossed a look over his shoulder. “Toby! Walk with me.”

The Communications Director squeezed between Charlie and the President’s daughter in a hurry to comply. “Yes sir?”

“What do you got to say for yourself?”

“About what?”

The President grinned and reenacted the signal. The signal that Sam had come up with earlier in the day; the mock of a plane taking off in case word of the pilot had come during the town hall meeting.

The same signal that had been reassigned to Toby’s brother shortly before the motorcade left the White House.

And Toby couldn’t stop smiling. “Yes sir!”

*~*~*

Willow was muttering something that Buffy couldn’t hear. Through the trials and confusion, a whisper of the same word released over and over. There amongst the uncertainty and fear.

“’S wrong,” Spike said softly, his eyes grave. “She’s sayin’ something’s wrong.”

*~*~*

Gina released the breath she had been holding when she saw Zoey approach with Charlie. The growing sense of apprehension failed to wane, but she was at least relieved that the girl was with her now.

Then gone. In that second, gone. There was something there.

“…baby pictures he’s heckling me with—Visa card bills,” the youngest Bartlet was telling her. “Look, now he’s walking the rope line. If ever a chance he was going to walk past a crowd of people…Charlie!”

“I saw something,” Gina muttered, more to herself, her nerves tightening beyond compare.

“By the way,” Zoey continued. “Charlie apologized to me. He made a full apology.”

“I saw something.”

The President was still shaking hands at the rope line.

Not there. Somewhere else. Somewhere…

Her eyes landed on him in a series of years that somehow became seconds. There in the crowd, his face tilting upward, then back again. The cap that was on his head gone to reveal a dome of hairless skin.

A signal.

And Gina saw it just seconds too late, the inhuman scream that tore through the noise and soared above them, claimed by her voice in a fit of terror. Terror being the one thing secret service agents were not supposed to feel.

Not supposed to show. But she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t.

And her scream stabbed the sky just seconds before the first shot sang in release.

“GUN!”

Fire cracked through the night, a blaze of bullets pelted from some window of some building. The eager screams of the crowd dispelling as panic broke out over order. An endless stream from nameless assailants, one after another.

Gina had Zoey on the ground in seconds; Charlie knocked over somewhere near them.

The President was seized by the secret service. Josh toppled to the ground and grasped out for whatever there was to hold. An agent bumped into CJ before Sam could take over, and they both fell to the pavement as the window of the police car in front of them shattered.

It was impossible to tell if the screams of the crowd were louder than the bullets. In those seconds, they melded into one.

Then a single shout rang over all others. Something heard by all. As though the voice of God had decided to intervene. Words that spiraled the night downward into a frozen inferno of new beginnings.

“Oh God, we’ve got people down! We’ve got guns here!”

“People down! People down!”

“Who’s been hit? Who’s been hit?”

*~*~*

It went through her like a bolt of electricity, digging into her skin in a snap of pure recognition. A strangled cry ruptured from Willow’s lips, and she knew only one truth.

“He’s been shot!” she gasped. “He’s been shot. He’s been shot.”

Her mouth tasted of blood.

“He’s been shot.”

*~*~*

Washington DC came to life in a matter of seconds. A flash of red and blue, the resounding bounce of bullets sprayed across the pavement. Echoing there; a sound that would never die. Loss and confusion, hysterics and tears. And above all else, sirens.

Sirens ringing through the night.

Sirens screaming for Rosslyn.

End Book I

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