(replies at the end)
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*rocket launching type of sounds and very impressive special effects.*
Yep, it's Ye Olde Ship Stone Circle sailing from port, for places unknown. I've had a few updates made to the old ship (like interstellar travel) so feel free to explore at your leisure.
I'm going to avoid yet another long apology about the delay and head right into expressing appreciation that you're here.
Okay, first....the characters
The Now - Same old gang minus Dawn and Spike.
The Dream -
Mantlebearers:
Willow Rosenberg - (you know who)
Tara Maclay* - (see above)
*Tara will not be officially a Mantlebearer until she and Willow undergo official marriage and binding ceremony with the Orb.
The Stone Circle:
Giles- Head (sometimes called Lord) Tundant of the realm.
Antean - Lord Warrior Mage of the realm.
Obarron - Lord Maker of the Realm
Diana - Lady Life Mage of the Realm
Janus - Lord Protector of the Realm.
Other characters and roles:
Buffy Summers - Grand Protector of the Realm
Xander Harris - Maker of the Realm and Arhon (Arhon is an honorary title given to the selected representative if someone who is about to be married).
Nameless - Buffy's dragon
Garamul - General of Ten Horseman who serve the king of the barbarians.
The Three Guardians - Lifelong guardians of the Mantlebearers, entrusted with special magics. The cost of these magics, it is said, was their sight.
The Past:
Dennis O'Malley - An angry young man who lived with Tara for several years. She often refers to him as her 'brother.'
Elizabeth - A Magic shop owner and close friend of Dennis and Tara.
When we last left the now:Trianalech (otherwise known as the hit and run demon) has created a cold wave in Sunnydale. It has 'triggered' a poison in many of her attackees and is now collecting them. She plans to feed them to her babies when they are born.
Buffy has disappeared. Xander and Willow are arguing about all the changes in both their lives...and oh yeah, Willow is coming to the conclusion that she is gay, thanks to the presence of her new boss - Tara.
Tara is now looking for Willow in the middle of a sudden drop in temprature.
When we last left The Dream Dark creatures attacked the town of Portskerry. Starting with one tavern where one member of the Stone Circle had been meeting with forces conspiring to rebel against the Mantlebearers and the Stone Circle. Willow was able to use the power of the Orb to shield the Spirie forces from these creatures. However the magicks she channeled were powerful and she has collapsed. Meanwhile Tara has gone into the flames of Portskerry after a fallen dragon.
All of this on top of the Stone Circle itself split over the question of whether Tara should ascend to the Mantle with Willow.
When we last left the Past Dennis and Tara left a youth center and made a life together in the city. They met Elizabeth, a deaf, dynamic magic shop owner. Tara has a job working with children. Dennis does hard labor but supplements his income by selling drugs. He also has a habit of getting into fights.
And....on...with...the...show...
Title: The Stone Circle
Part: 35/?
Email address: mariacomet@hotmail.comDistribution: Just let me know.
Spoilers: All eps that have aired.
Rating: PG -13 . There will be…bad language. Violence. Adult situations. And general naughtiness throughout. I deal with some very dark themes as well as some very light themes.
Disclaimer: All Characters contained herein were created and are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. (He doesn’t deserve them) I am only doing this because well...it's fun to play with Willow and Tara. Not making any money.
Special thanks: To Mary, the fairest beta of them all and as always to MD.
Writers’ WARNING and notation
Warning!! At least ONE alternate universe exists in this story.The DreamBuffy stood vigil over her friend. She could feel Nameless in the sky, exchanging words with the other dragons. For one of the first times, she shut him out of her thoughts, focusing on the scene before her.
Diana, 'Mother' as she was called by the Spirie, was murmuring soft words over Willow Rosenberg, Mantlebearer of the kingdom. Dark creatures had attacked Portskerry and left hundreds dead. It would have been more, were it not for the power of the woman who lay pale and lifeless in a large bed at the room's center.
The room, Buffy mused, was one of the few things Willow had ever actually likely about being royalty. A large feather bed with rich blue, purple and gold satin sheet was at the room's far corner. Around the bed were a series of windows as high as the walls themselves. One corner of the room had a sprawling mural showing the Mantlebearer line and depictions of the greatest of them. On the ceiling was another mural, a map of the kingdom enfolded in a dragons wings - a symbol of an ancient alliance reached long ago.
There was a doorway to a large alcove to the left that held a study area. Near the room's center was a fountain standing six feet tall. It was a miniaturized stone circle made of marble. Water flowed on either side of each wall. The waters were captured in a basin then became a waterfall dropping into the shape of the orb on the ground and disappearing. There was a spiral staircase leading up near the bed - these led to the bathing room.
Buffy looked at all these comforts with only sadness now. The opulence of this place, this representation of a kingdom of poetry and magic seemed…wrong now.
The forces of the Spirie had retreated today. This had only happened once before. It was shear numbers that had heralded their destruction then. The enemy was certain and the reason for their defeat clear. Today's loss had sprung from magicks that even the wisest of them couldn't explain. They had not made a good showing, they had not been able to truly fight back at all. Instead, they had been utterly dependent on the woman who hadn't opened her eyes since shielding them. The friend Buffy had watched grow up. The one that they all had secretly hoped would save them.
She had today…
No…today Willow had bought them time. She had created a reprieve. Saved was too big a word.
Saved was a word she used when speaking of Willow ascending to the Mantle and granting the long-serving Grand Protector permission to retire. It was a selfish thought and she believed it to be despicable of her. Yet there it was.
And there too was the thought of what if... something had happened to Willow.
It would have been civil war.
She had ordered Willow and Tara to leave, yet they had stayed. In this chamber, here and now, lay the fate of her friend…and of the kingdom. She was incapable of ignoring that reality.
The life mage held in her hand a rose that shifted colors from red to white to a soft grey and finally to blue. They had sent for Diana immediately. She was the greatest life mage in the realm and Willow's battered unconscious form was too still…it made them all feel helpless, utterly without power.
Janus appeared at the doorway of the room and upon seeing Buffy, he strode forward to join her. His sure steps faltered at the sight of the pale figure on the bed.
Diana stopped her chant and looked up at him. Buffy saw uncertainty pass over him. Diana could easily dismiss him and perhaps had reason after his recent words about the Orb. Yet the life mage soon gave a gentle smile - one that was soothing instead of joyful. He relaxed perceptably and turned to his commander.
"I came to report…" Janus's voice was rough, tight with a mix of emotion and control. "The lady Tara - we have dispatched a small force into the flames. They believe they are getting close to her."
The Grand Protector turned to him, eyes open and clear. "Xander is with them?"
A nod.
"As Willow's Arhon...he elected to go." He answered.
"And Antean...he is with them?" She believed she already knew the answer, yet she asked anyway.
Janus met her gaze. "Yes."
In another time and place, she would have been relieved he was there, but not now. Antean's strategy, her leadership, Janus's common sense and strength, the wisdom of Giles, the compassion and faith of Diana, and the innovation of Obarron - this had been the stone circle. Willow had been the hope that tied them together.
"Then I'll be holding him personally responsible for her safe return." She answered flatly.
His head tilted to one side and all the anger in him, an unhealed wound by the long-ago death of his wife, flared. "He'd give his life to protect her."
"I guess we'll see."
"Why don't you say what you're thinking." He growled.
"I don't think I'm being subtle, Janus."
"Buffy." Came a calming voice. From the corner of the room, Giles approached both the Grand Protector and the soldier. He looked twice his age - tired and worried. "There's a time and a place for some conversations. Perhaps this can wait."
Buffy nodded stiffly. "Have you found anything?"
"I have been studying Willow and Obarron's condition. He…seems mostly unharmed. He was wearing a talisman. We have not yet been able to ascertain its origin. He is the only one that survived the attack in the tavern where it all began."
Buffy considered that and weighed what she knew of the Lord Maker. He had the quickest wit of those in the circle. His eyes always seemed to be laughing. He was young, not as young as Willow, but young. "I'll see him after I'm done here."
"Diana and I have been through the books." The head tundant continued softly. "What Willow did…and these creatures. There's no precedent."
Buffy's expression was cold as stone. "I ordered Willow away when I saw her."
Near her, Janus stirred. "If she hadn't come…."
It was the wrong thing to say here and now. She was raging inside. Sure that someone should pay, someone had to pay. "What? There'd be death? We'd have lost the city? We'd have been defeated? Do you think there's one person that wouldn't pay that price if it meant her life? Do you have any idea what she means to us? No, you don't. You and Antean and your stupid little power games. Have you thought that if we hadn't been spending so much time and energy playing 'who gets to control Willow' that we might have been ready for these things."
The Lord Protector said nothing, nor did his face show any outward reaction. He studied her intently. His stance became more rigid, but that was the only change.
"Well you should be happy now. Look at her. All the easier to control isn't she? Where the hell is Antean? He should be here. The Wolf," the words were spat, "would be delighted. He finally got his wish." She shut her eyes tightly and added quietly, "In more ways than one."
"Buffy," Diana became the compelling voice of serenity now in the midst of pain and confusion. She had always been that voice. It was why Giles and Diana had been such a potent match in the on-again off-again affair they'd been having for hundreds of years. His reason and her serenity were practically unshakeable. Except perhaps by the burdens of their office and what was required of them by the Spirie people. "You can't always save those you love. And those who hurt them cannot always be brought to justice. There may be million reasons for you to be angry with Janus and Antean. But not this."
Buffy looked down for a moment and let out slow shaky breath. "If Tara…when Tara is found, she is to be taken into custody."
"Custody?" The man at her side echoed.
"Held on my orders. She is to stay away from Willow until a decision has been made regarding her status as a mantlebearer."
The life mage was on her feet moving toward them. "For what purpose?"
"Buffy…." The Tundant began to object in horror.
"They have broken the law. They were never supposed to meet. Not until the taking of the mantle." She insisted. "It almost cost them their lives. I am invoking my rights as Grand Protector to act in defense of the kingdom."
What was it about war, she wondered, that made you doubt and mistrust everything. She could not stop herself from questioning Willow's judgment. She couldn't steel herself against hearing Antean swear that it was she, Buffy, who had the ability and obligation to preserve the kingdom. Either by convincing Willow or…
The sight of Diana's usually matronly eyes filling with righteous fury was intimidating. Buffy had to look away. "They are young. Perhaps impulsive. But acting on love does not threaten this kingdom." 'Mother' began
"They were supposed to act like Mantlebearers," the blonde said fiercely. "And if they won't do that on their own, then by the Orb, I will do it for them. We can't afford for them to be young. We can't afford for them to be caught up in whims or romance or Orb knows what else. They must lead. "
"I believe…" The Tundant began in a measured tone. "That is what they were attempting by joining the battle today."
"And this," Buffy said, motioning to the bed. "Is the result of that leadership? A mantle barren…a kingdom cracking apart more and more each day…and this is Willow's leadership? If we lose her now, how long before we tear each other apart? How long before this kingdom devours itself? The time has come for us to choose. We will follow the Orb…or we won't. But we'll decide and we'll do it as soon as Tara is found and Antean returns."
The room was silent. Buffy saw them all struggle with her declaration. It was her right to say these things, they all knew. Her right to act in lieu of the Mantlebearers. Her strength had been a beacon through the dark days of the Orb's silence.
"Grand Protector," Diana said finally, breaking the silence. "What Willow needs now more than any spell I can perform is to be surrounded by those that inspire her will."
A muscle worked in her jaw. "Fine. Hold her here and when she is not here she is to be confined to the garden cottage. When Antean returns, tell him we are assembling the Stone Circle for a meeting."
"And if Tara doesn't return? Shall we draw names from a hat for a new Mantlebearer? Perhaps have a potato sack race." The Tundant declared in agitation.
She didn't respond to him directly, choosing to address them all. "We are going to decide this matter once and for all."
The PastThe shop was dark when he entered, and it worried him. Elizabeth kept late hours, much as Tara did. And she had a fascination with small lamps, covered in a colored cloth. Color shading, she called it. She liked things around her to be visually interesting. Insisted on it.
But when he entered, it was dark and quiet…all except for soft music playing somewhere in the background. She did that sometimes, but on a radio…she said the vibrations were soothing. That he and the one night that they had danced had brought that back to her.
She’d asked him to come and move some heavy chests that she’d acquired to use as makeshift display areas. That was another thing, she loved getting antiques. Both her home and her shop were filled with the stuff.
He milled around a few moments, hoping she was in back and she'd wander back out. The magic shop still made him nervous. Inevitably, typically, his ability to be patient and wait didn’t last longer than that and he headed toward the music. She was there in the back, one candle lit near the radio.
On the walls her shadows shifted to and fro to match her movement. She was dancing, barely moving but swaying back and forth in place. One of her hands was resting on the radio. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back. She was dressed in a long olive colored dress that brushed the floor as she danced, her feet bare. It was just her, but…something about the moment made him buzz with awareness.
The radio played softly, the kind of song that would inspire someone to walk across the room to a stranger and ask them to slow dance. The unfolding of a heart and vows of love backed by simple guitar chords. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked towards where he stood as if she’d felt the weight of his stare and the questions in his mind. His lips rose into a shy smile as their eyes met. She read something in him at that moment and without saying a word, she beckoned him closer. He moved forward slowly…uncertain.
“You said you needed help moving stuff,” he said, facing her so she could read his lips.
“I lied," she explained. "I wanted to dance with you again.” She moved his hands to her waist and smiled without repentance.
”I’m here to dance?” he echoed, and followed her lead as she began to sway against him.
“When you say it like that, it sounds like I’m going to be putting dollar bills in your underwear."
His instincts were suddenly screaming at him that he couldn’t stay. She'd made no secret that she had feelings for him. But he couldn't give her what she wanted. Not now.
“You’re thinking too hard again.” She murmured and leaned up to whisper in his ear. “It’s just dancing and…maybe dinner.” His brows rose at the addition. He started to object again but she rushed on. “Friendly dancing and dinner. Friends?“
”Why?" His lips set in a thin line. "I'm not a nice guy, Elizabeth." It was a caution and an honest one. He was a lot of things, but what he was most of all was a survivor. That he included Tara in his circle of survival did not mean he lived by her rules. He had his own.
She gave a thin smile. “You’re like this.” She drew a line with one fingertip on his chest above his heart. “I see some of who you could be – good and bad. I see the walls you have up. I see…how angry you are."
He dropped his hands and stepped back. “I don’t need a shrink.”
Instead of looking repentant, her eyes sparkled. “Yes, we all know how tough you are.”
“I’m serious.” He said.
“Mhmmm. Almost always.” Lightly, slowly she took his hands and settled them back on her hips. “Live a little.”
She had a way of showing him how to laugh at himself. He lifted an eyebrow and fought back a smile. Still, he hadn't been convinced to stay.
She looked down a moment and when she met his eyes again, he saw something he wasn’t used to from her – a vulnerable expression. “I know how you feel about Tara.” He let out a shaky breath, surprised that she'd seen what he had tried so hard to keep hidden. "I know I’m not beautiful like she is." He started to argue but she shook her head feverently and continued on. "She has a gentle grace. She's quiet and thoughtful. I've seen the way she soothes you. What she brings out in you. It's part of what I…envy about her. Your heart chose her. And right now…that's the way things are. I know that. But I still want to dance. To know you."
He watched her, feeling a kind of awe. What she’d said had taken more guts than he’d ever dreamed of having. “You’re the kind of girl that a guy like me gets in fights over," he told her quietly. "Or…waits outside your apartment in the freezing cold just to talk to you. I just…can’t yet.”
Elizabeth reached up and traced a fingertip over his wrinkled brow, then gently laid her palm over his cheek. “Have you told her how you feel?” the magic shop owner asked.
“She knows.” Elizabeth's expression was one of patient disbelief. “Well, she did," he amended. “She lectured me about it after we first moved in together. She said…” He shrugged. “You know the usual - 'I love you but not like that’ kind of speech. And then she bought me ice cream. Which is what she does when she feels guilty. I haven't…I try not to let it show now.”
He lifted his shoulders in a half shrug, trying to cover himself with the gruffness that often acted as his shield. He was feeling suddenly agitated and his jaw muscle worked as his carefully held back emotions burned.
His dancing partner reached up and captured his face in her hands. “Relax. You don’t have to fight anything here. Not with me.” Maybe it was the touch, maybe the words, but it was like magic.
His fears drained out of him and he felt free to speak his heart, something he rarely did. “She loves books. Loves learning. I keep thinking she should be in school. That’s the kind of life she should lead.”
“Her and not you?”
The look he gave her was wry, self-deprecating amusement. “I was never any good at school. Sliced a math teacher’s tires once because he called me stupid in class.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“Yeah but…I guess I was acting stupid," he admitted. To say he'd been a punk would have been an understatement. He'd been rowdy, rebellious and a general pain in the ass. He didn't blame the teachers for not liking him.
Her fingertips moved, tracing a scar under his left eye and lower – on his cheek….and then a bruise on his jaw. “Was this one because the bus driver wouldn’t accept anything but exact change?” she teased.
He felt almost shy about the way she was able to make him see a lighter side of himself. “I’m not that bad.”
“What about this one?” she asked, touching his chin. He liked her touching him. He liked the look in her eyes - gentle, teasing, a little tentative but…fearless.
"“Look, I just…like…raising a little hell."
“Or…this one?” She delicately tapped the tip of his crooked nose.
"The guys I fight…they’re all just like me…or they’re guys who like trying to fuck people up. Fair fight. Best man wins.”
She tilted her head back slightly, studying him. “Is that important to you? A fair fight?”
“Yeah.” He straightened, his ego and pride glimmering in his eyes. “That…and no bullshit.”
Elizabeth nodded once, coming to a decision she’s been struggling with. “I think you’re right. I think Tara should be in college. I think she’d love it.” She said softly.
He suddenly remembered the first time that Tara had ever called for a family night. And when she had come home with an electronics book for him. Or the first time they had watched movies together all night. Or one day when she’d turned everything he did around the apartment into a little song. She’d read him to sleep once. And she’d pointed at the sky on their shared balcony and made up stories about the stars. And he’d felt in that moment…so big. Underneath that impossibly huge sky – so big. Because this beautiful, talented woman had chosen to spend that night telling him stories. Because, he supposed, she’d chosen him at all. Because she kept choosing him.
“You think…” He took a deep breath, hitching up his courage. “You think I’m holding her back?”
He’d had thought this before too. But he wasn’t the type of guy to talk about what he was feeling. Sometimes…with Tara. Not with anyone else. Not till now.
She answered his question directly. “Yes. And…no. I think you’re both very different, and that you both love each other very much. You both have so many hopes for one another and…not that many for yourselves. You both need to wake up to the possibilities.”
The young man felt surprised by the way the words touched him. He took in the sight of her again, knowing that she had become a new creature. From the moment he'd come into the shop tonight, she'd been transformed. He bent and brushed a kiss to her forehead. It was a thank you and an acknowledgement of something he couldn't put a name to yet. He pulled her closer, just near enough so she could rest lightly against him. They danced slowly, without speaking, for a long time.
Late that night as he left the magic shop, the snow fell lightly on the darkened street. The roads were wet and the street lamps were a blurry reflection on the pavement. He was huddled in his thin jacket, his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets.
He didn't go straight home. Instead, he wandered for awhile, as he did sometimes. Walking aimlessly on a night too cold for most people. The snow didn’t fall often during the winter and when it did it was a couple of inches. Gone by morning, as if it had never been.
Dennis wasn’t sure why he didn’t just go home.
Sometimes at night, when he couldn't find peace, he'd walk like this. Walking and walking till he felt too tired to think. Dead of fucking winter. Sometimes when it was raining too. Raining or freezing or sizzling hot.
Why didn’t he go home?
Didn’t he ask himself the same question sometimes when he was at the local bar surrounded by his friends, allowing himself to be egged into yet another fight? The action in the bar called to his anger. It allowed him the chance to be powerful, or at least…to fight. There were so many things he felt helpless against. His job, his future…and losing those he loved. He was sure that was his fate. And even Tara, the exception to all rules…even Tara would eventually give in to that truth.
So going home was like…real life being put on hold. Like turning on a television. He became someone else. Another guy that had a home. Tara’s Dennis. Tara’s brother. And somewhere inside him, he took on a thousand other roles when he was with her. Ones he didn’t talk about, didn’t admit…her husband, her son, her protector, her boy Friday.
She’d made the apartment warm with little touches, pictures without frames (they couldn’t afford them), knick-knacks, a blanket and throw pillow she’d found at Goodwill, pink placemats on a long card table. Hot pink, he snorted to himself even now. He hadn’t said a word when he’d seen them. But she knew him, and she promised to get a more neutral color as soon as she could. She’d intercepted them from the garbage bin. He hadn’t commented on that either. He wouldn’t have. He would have let her do whatever she wanted with the place. But Tara wanted it to be his home too. She insisted on it.
The snow fell harder and the inside of his jacket grew wet and cold. His pants were already partly soaked. He didn’t have clothes for this kind of weather.
Why didn’t he go home?
He lived with her day by day, doing what he could for her. Even though love boiled inside him, urging him to take his chances, even if it was one in a billion. It drove him crazy sometimes but he never said a word. He pretended that she was in love with someone else. Someone real that he could see, and more importantly see with her. It helped him stay sane in moments where she was just too beautiful, and everything danced on the razor’s edge of being perfect…except…except…
And love drummed those two words…Tell her, tell her, tell her.
A loud shouting shattered his thoughts like glass.
"Stop! Leave me alone."
Dennis' eyes narrowed on the sight of two young guys shoving an older man - his tattered, multi-layer clothing suggested he was homeless - into a wall.
It wasn't a fair fight, not even close.
"Hey." He called out.
"Keep walking, asshole." One of the thugs called out.
But Dennis smiled. These were guys just like him. He knew how to deal with them. He charged across the street stopping along the way to pick up an empty beer bottle. He broke the bottle, startling the two bullies again. It was too late, he was already slicing the arm of the first bully. He grabbed him a headlock and tossed him to the cold, hard ground. Then he went after the other guy. He dropped the beer bottle, curled up his fist and hit the guy so hard that the young man stumbled back. Dennis grabbed him and threw him after his friend.
He bent down, picked up the beer bottle and brandished it at them warningly. "Get the fuck out of here. This guy isn't worth it."
They stared him down. This was a pure alpha male moment. Toughest dog wins. His lips lifted in a smile and he opened his arms, inviting confrontation, inviting anything they thought they could dish out. Something in his eyes must have been convincing, must have let them know exactly how far he'd go to win now that he'd made this his business. They made a wise, slow retreat.
Dennis turned to the old man, indeed a homeless man, reeking of liquor. Dennis took a moment to look him over. "Hey…hey?" He touched the man's shoulder. "You okay?"
The bum twisted away and cowered. "Who are you? Leave me alone."
Dennis looked at him more closely and realized suddenly that he was blind. His eyes had a white film over them.
"Whoa. It's okay. They're gone. I was just giving you a hand."
"Who are you?"
"Dennis. Dennis O'Malley. You okay?" When there was no immediate answer, Dennis looked him over again, trying to see if there was any sign of blood or bruising. "You look alright. It's a cold night. You have somewhere to go?"
"Me and some friends have a place."
Dennis didn't answer. He took a step back instead. "You probably want to clear out. Never know if those kids are going to show back up with some friends. You need any help getting home?"
"No." Dennis nodded and started to turn away but the homeless man followed him. "Wait…I want to…" His hands started searching his clothes frantically. "I want to give you…"
"Don't worry about it."
"No, here."
Tara's adopted brother couldn't say what made him look, but he turned, and his eyes fell on the object now outstretched in his direction. It was a round stone, about the diameter of a silver dollar. Its color a deep, dark blue. He found himself captivated by it. The street lamps did not reflect in it, they did not shift the color - instead the stone itself seemed to shift to a deeper, darker color.
"What is that?"
"You keep it." Before Dennis knew it, the man was stepping forward, his hands patting Dennis' arm until he found the young man's hand. He pressed the stone into it. "It will bring you luck."
Dennis felt his attention captured by the gem for another several moments and when he looked up again, the man was gone.
When he went home, she was curled on the couch, asleep. He bent and draped the fallen blanket back over her. It was odd. For once, he didn't feel like telling Tara this story.
He went into his bedroom, placed the stone in his top drawer and all but forgot about it.
**************************************************
The NowThe forest was now a maze of ice. Long ice stalactites hung from branches. In the trees hundreds of large frozen webs created a grotesque canopy above them.
They had found one of the 'sleeping' humans. The spider's prey to be harvested later. Willow bent near the cocoon and examined it carefully. She lay her palm against it.
"The outer layer is frozen, but I can feel the heat inside. Like the other one."
Xander hoisted the stake bazooka over one shoulder and eyed the trees. "Are we sure about this ambushing idea?"
"It was your idea." Willow pointed out.
"It's times like this that I find myself less and less convinced by myself."
"Anya said she's stronger in her lair,” his friend reminded him dutifully. “Besides, we checked and she's not home. Anya will radio us if she gets back. Other than that, this thing is as good as bait."
The tension between them had lessened - at least for now. This kind of tension had stood between them before - threatening to change from paper thin to steel. They tried to put personal trials and tribulations behind them as best they could when it came to the work. It was a never-ending test of humanity's aspirations played against its fears. They had sworn to bear this weight together and they offered one another hope.
Yet this hope, having never faltered or dimmed in her, was suddenly confused. Another light was being offered to her. Willow felt she was being given a choice - the old way or the unbroken, less traveled path of becoming. Down that path there was only one assurance - that Tara was part of it somehow. That knowledge made her feel so strong and yet so afraid. There were no promises of forever, only the certainty of change from what she'd known. She didn't know if her friends could follow her, or even they'd even want to. It scared her who she might become. Where she would be if one day she looked up to find Tara's path had forked away from her own. Tara had been her compass and her anchor so far. The eyes of the woman hung in her mind, smiling at her, making her catch her breath…even now.
Yet…Tara was part of it, not all of it. She knew that too. Knew that she wanted more than she once had and was asking for more from the world.
Because she wasn't afraid to anymore. And Tara was part of that too. She had awakened her to the possibility to asking.
"I hope wherever Buffy is it's warm." Xander was saying. "My car is acclimated to certain things. There's a delicate balance to its working condition." She peered at him, breaking away from her thoughts. "Hey - you see what you can get for five hundred dollars."
His best friend stood up, looking concerned. Over her arm was a golf bag with four former golf clubs, now with sharp points and humming quietly with magic. All the lances had been fashioned to be fired from the stake bazooka. All but one, which she now leaned against. This last lance they’d fashioned into a spear. The point stood a solid foot over Willow’s head. It was a good idea, Buffy had always assured them, to go into a fight with an assortment of weapons.
"I was thinking about what Anya said about Buffy." Willow admitted. "You know, how she went missing at the same time as this Trianalech started collecting…"
"If something's happened, we'll find her. And the sooner we kill this thing, the sooner we can start looking." His expression was determined.
Suddenly up above the web began to shake. "Shit." The two friends muttered as one. Quickly, Willow handed Xander a sharpened golf club. He loaded the bazooka and lay in the snow, pointing the nozzle of his weapon upward. Willow crouched down behind a tree.
Theirs was not the most sophisticated of plans. The witch was to collapse the web with a spell, which she had begun to mutter even as they waited. Xander would take his shot at a close range. With any luck, they'd get it right on the first try. And if not…
They had pointedly not discussed that.
The redhead could feel the edges of a section of web begin to weaken. She was unraveling the strands systematically. She wanted it to seem steady till the last moment. No sign that anything was amiss until it started to give way. So it had to hold until a precise moment. Willow would keep her powers focused and make sure that she was the one who controlled when the trap sprang. It served a double purpose of letting her feel the tremors in the web and how close the big bad was getting.
The rhythm of the web movements changed and became more urgent. The vibrations were larger, not a hint of movement, rather a vivid echo of a large creature.
"Oh boy," she heard Xander mutter. She could not break her concentration to look, but soon she didn't have to.
She was surprised by how thin and translucent the spider's legs were. They were giant-sized but not in diameter. The body of the spider, however, was another story. In fact, on another day Willow might have been curious how the eight thin legs could sustain such a body. It was spotted black and yellow and its fangs were actively moving together and apart…and together and apart…slower than a twitching motion, rather a suggestion that it was ready to savor a fine meal.
Something near those fangs caught her eyes. A blue stone, around its throat. It caught her attention enough so that she actively had to blink herself back to the matter at hand.
"Get ready Xander." She told him very softly.
Everything went according to plan. The spider moved onto the weakened section of web and Willow literally pulled the web out from under her. Xander took aim and fired.
Which is where everything failed.
He was off. Not far off, but it didn't matter. The makeshift ammo just didn't carry as straight as he'd hoped. It curved in the icy wind. "Will?" he called urgently. She tossed threw him another "lance" but luck just wasn't with them and it landed several feet from him. "Shit!"
The spider turned her massive head in his direction. He unsheathed the machete at his side and struck out as she reached for him. The monster danced back from one blow and another and made a hissing sound…and was suddenly gone.
Xander stood there, weapon in front of him, looking around with wild eyes. And then he heard it, that same hiss..only this time it was right behind him. He turned and it jumped at him.
The world slowed down for Willow and buried the burning in her heart that was a combined fear of losing him and a rage that something would try and steal a life so precious to her. She had to think and forced the feelings away. This too, like focusing on the task and not the tension, was something she had honed. To think instead of feel.
“Ancile!” Willow shouted and the great body of the expectant mother crashed into a barrier now surrounding her friend. “Xander…I can’t…I don’t know how to hold it…”
He had understood before she’d finished speaking and was already retreating toward her. As soon as the spell fell, the spider turned and it had a new target. Its eyes were fixed on Willow. The redhead was ready and leveraged the spear in front of her. Xander grabbed the second-to-last lance from the golf club bag and loaded the bazooka up.
The young witch with him was being accosted. All of Willow's attempts to attack the monster with the spear were proving both futile and precarious. It was using all eight legs and its massive fangs in attack now. Willow was barely fending it off. Xander dropped to one knee, deciding to take his shot. Yet suddenly, there came that awful hiss….and it was gone once more.
The two old friends exchanged a look, one of fear and of solidarity. Instinctively they drifted closer together, until finally they stood back to back, weapons raised. All she could think was that she would do everything in her power to keep them both safe and, barring that, to destroy this creature before it had a chance to hurt anyone else.
******************************************************
The PastDennis heard the wood crack sharply as it met his back. He back gave way and he scrambled to not fall flat. His palms crashed into gravel. He knew he was a mess, still he fought. That was what he did.
He gathered his rage and will and flung himself at his nearest opponent. There were four of them this time. They'd offered him a way out. His answer had been for his fist to swing and connect. Like a batter trying for a home run, taking his shot, hoping to hell it led to glory. Internally there were very few thoughts before the action. Two words, 'Fuck it.' It was like a compulsion, like he had no choice. An animal instinct that was propelling him forward in the face of odds he couldn't beat. In his background somewhere his friends were yelling at him to kick ass.
But that wasn't really what they wanted. They wanted entertainment.
He wanted….
He didn't expect to win. Not against the small crowd that had gathered, or his drunken jeering friends. But they weren't going to be given one damm thing from him. They'd have to take it. They'd have to beat him before he could do that. He knew they would - eventually. There were four of them and he was alone. They'd beat him, they may even hurt him real bad or worse. But he was lost in his instincts, in his raging. He expected to lose. Always. But it didn't matter.
He felt the rocking backward of his head and his nose seemed to split. The kick had been delivered and met its mark.
He felt the blood, tasted it…nearly choked. He was pulled to his feet and went willingly. Motherfuckers. Better to be on his feet. If they thought he was done, they were out of their fucking minds. They were going to have to do a hell of a lot better than that.
He saw the steel pipe shining in the moonlight. Knew it was held by one of the men facing him. Yet he felt his lips curl upward into a grin.
'Fuck it,' he thought and then, 'Alright. Come and get me.'
He'd stand alone and take everything they could give him and eventually…eventually they'd beat him. All he knew was to fight. The reasons were lost.
He didn't expect any of his so-called friends to help him.
He was alone…fighting alone. By choice, by providence…it didn't matter. It was a reality he accepted.
TBC+++++++++++++++++
ash It is so great to see you. Yeah, it has been a bit, hasn't it? I'm really glad to see you. I love having old friends on the ship again! It helps the kitten feel all the more like home, you know?
WOW... I don't have enough words to explain the depth of what I feel about your story. 
Just my luck that I come by thinking there's an update- which there was- but finding it to not only be from a while ago, but also a helluva cliffhanger. 
soon) thanks for this. It's been wonderful to read. 
