by Brynn » Thu Feb 07, 2002 3:51 pm
by tommo » Thu Feb 07, 2002 6:03 pm
Pig. I'm explaining this all wrong.
Now, I've attempted some humour in this part. Please be gentle. I'm not a funny writer. It's not real comedy. It's just how it came out of my head. Okay? Thank you.
And um, auditions for the part of 'Ruth's Whore' will be taking place shortly in the back room.
Enjoy.
Title: Touchstone
Rating: NC17, although not all chapters are, but this covers me for those bits that couldn’t possibly be anything else. Heh.
Copyright Disclaimer: Bowing and scraping does nothing for the knees. Joss…blah blah…Mutant Enemy…etc etc…sigh…
Feedback: Sure, if you feel that way inclined. My email is: tommo27@hotmail.com
Archive: Until I get my arse in gear and sort out my own W/T website, you can have this wherever you like it. I’m only too happy if someone else wants it. Just ask first, ok? Bad manners are nobody’s friend.
Summary: This takes place in my own Buffyverse, and if you’ve read any of my other stories, then you’ll know what I mean. Basically we follow the season events, but with a few changes. In fact, who am I kidding; I make direct references to my other fic, because I’m a whore like that. And I care…not one little bit. Ha. There are also Season 6 spoilers in this if that kind of thing bothers you. Don’t take it to heart if it does; they’re not like, big honkin’ spoilers or anything.
Part 6
Willow puffed out her cheeks and rubbed the back of her hand across her brow. Her forehead was slightly damp with sweat and she was starting to wish she hadn’t put on quite so many layers when Tara had suggested they go for a walk. In fact, if she’d had it her way, she would have spent the morning playing around on her laptop, but Tara had put her foot down and told Willow that they hadn’t traveled to another continent for her to get lost in cyberspace.
“Right,” Willow had said, closing her laptop with a click that was rather too brisk. “Why get lost in cyberspace when we can do it in the dark, cold, possibly dangerous, almost definitely wet forest outside? I mean, you don’t find wolves and bears in cyberspace. Oh wait,” she held up her finger, shooting a very piercing gaze across at Tara, “I know, let’s go outside and find them instead!”
“Willow,” Giles had spoken up from the other end of the table, a grin playing around the corners of his mouth. “Wales hasn’t had sight nor sound of wolves or bears for at least fifty years. In fact,” he tapped his pen against his teeth, “I’m not sure that Wales has ever seen bears.” He looked over at Willow, “Of the grizzly kind, anyway.”
“Ah,” Willow held up her finger again, her eyes wide with concern, “just because nobody’s seen them doesn’t mean they aren’t there. What if they’re sneaky bears, just waiting for two unsuspecting girls to go walking in the woods? I mean, sneaky bears would hide behind trees and wait for us to go along happily, with not a care in the world, all tra la la, and then,” she paused dramatically, “grrrr!” She curled her fingers round in an attempt to emulate claws and bared her teeth.
Giles scarcely managed to hide his amusement; Tara didn’t bother at all, letting out a peal of laughter that turned Willow into a rather disappointed, forlorn looking bear whose claws were distinctly droopy as opposed to downright terrifying. Crossing over to where her girlfriend sat at the table, Tara put her arms loosely around Willow’s neck and leant into her, pressing her cheek against the other girl’s fondly.
“I promise if we meet any bears, or wolves, Willow Riding Hood, I will protect you to the best of my ability,” she said firmly as Willow’s fingers crept up to intertwine with her own. She rested her head for a moment on the redhead’s shoulder, feeling the vibrant strands of red hair tickle against her cheek and the fresh scent of Willow’s soap-cleansed skin fill her nose. Breathing it in, Tara smiled and watched as Giles glanced over at them, his face softening affectionately.
“I can assure you Willow, there are no bears in Wales.” His tone was almost one of reproach, although it was still tinged with amusement. Pushing at his glasses he turned back to his work, Willow relaxing visibly. He shot her a sideways glance and a smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Plenty of dragons though,” he added softly.
Tara felt herself starting to laugh again as the redhead stiffened under her touch, her mouth opening in alarm. Both she and Giles had subsequently experienced Willow’s extensive range of vocabulary on the dangers of teasing someone who wasn’t all that happy with the great outdoors, and who bothered calling it great anyway, when she wasn’t so sure it was even that good, never mind great…
Dragons, Willow thought irritably to herself as the scent of pine floated around her, mixed with stray sunbeams that found their way through the canopy onto the damp forest floor. As though any self respecting dragon would try to pick its way through this mess of trees that Welsh people called a forest. She hitched up her backpack and settled it more comfortably onto her shoulders, squinting to where the figure of Tara was making rather better progress up ahead.
They had forayed into the forest after a hearty breakfast, although once they had strayed from the road, Tara was unsure of where to go next. But she had bravely struck out a course in the direction of what she hoped was the mountain, and Willow had followed, albeit unwillingly, resigned to another of Tara’s cheery expeditions into the unknown.
The deeper they got into the forest, the quieter the air fell around them. The heavy covering overhead numbed all sound and soon all they could hear was the rustle of leaves high above their heads, and the crunch of two pairs of footsteps on the leafy floor. Even the heavy rain of yesterday had hardly managed to make it through the tightly knit leaves overhead, leaving the ground underfoot fresh, albeit not wet. For a while they had walked in silence, holding hands. Even grumpy Willow had to admit that it was beautiful out here. She occasionally flashed a smile across at Tara, her own sense of peace echoed in the blue eyes that returned her smile.
But that was half an hour ago.
Willow puffed out her cheeks again and watched the shapely figure of her girlfriend striding out up ahead. Half an hour ago she’d been more than happy to try out her new walking shoes and warm clothes. But now, with a thin dribble of sweat making its way down the centre of her back, and what she was sure was a blister forming on her heel, she wasn’t so happy.
In fact, she wasn’t happy at all.
“Tara!” she finally bellowed, stopping in the forest, the sound of her voice echoing wildly from treetop to treetop. Somewhere above her head, the sound of a bird squawking indicated that Willow’s outburst wasn’t welcome in the relative pastoral calm.
Spinning round on her heel, Tara faced her girlfriend, eyes wide with alarm. The few feet between them filled with tension as Willow’s bottom lip jutted out and she put her hands onto her hips.
“Willow? What is it?” Tara took a step closer, eyeing her girlfriend carefully. Green eyes flashed as the blonde merely waited and watched Willow become even more infuriated. Finally, after a few moments of heated silence, the redhead pushed at her hair, sitting damply over her forehead, and let out an agonized sigh.
“I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me,” Willow said slowly, struggling to keep her temper in check. “But this is…” she gestured down at the ground beneath them.
“Yes?” Tara took another step closer, her brow wrinkling with a frown.
Pressing her lips together, Willow shook her head. This had happened before. Everyone creeping around her, being nice to her, doing things that would make her feel better. And it was all useless. It was still her inside; still her carrying all this shit around with her. She pushed against the backpack, trying to move it away from her heated body. Patience, she tried to tell herself, sucking in several long breaths of fresh pine air. But it neither calmed nor assuaged the rampant berating she was giving herself right now. Since when had she gotten such a short fuse? Sometimes it was impossible to tell when all of this had happened, or how. All she knew was that she used to be okay, and now she wasn’t.
Her eyes meeting Tara’s, she felt her lip curl unreasonably and gritted her teeth together. The blonde’s frown increased as she recognized the impatience and anger flitting across Willow’s face in colors that turned her aura deep shades of maroon and purple.
“You have to talk to me Willow,” Tara said, taking another step forward. Now there was only a couple of feet between them. Tara could feel the confusion and self-loathing coming off Willow in waves, pushing at her. Her mouth forming into a determined line, she took another step forward.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Willow said, her voice strained. She looked around, her eyes rolling white in her sockets as her gaze strained up to the treetops.
“You can,” Tara said, her voice soft.
“No,” Willow said in no more than a whisper, although in the hush of the forest her voice seemed very loud, hissing across to where Tara stood.
“You can Will,” Tara urged her. “You’ve come this far. You’ve already done so much.”
“Tara…” Willow began, and then sighed heavily, her gaze dropping to the pine needles strewn over the forest floor beneath them. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Look, Tara, I know this holiday is all about me being away from Sunnydale, away from,” she swallowed, “magick. But just taking me away from it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.” She met her girlfriend’s eyes, her green orbs taking on a metallic shimmer. “I feel it all the time. All the freakin’ time!” she stomped her foot down on the ground. A bird fluttered from a nearby bush, its wings beating whistling rhythms into the air.
“Nobody said it was going to be easy Will,” Tara took another step forward; this time making herself only inches from the redhead.
“But nobody said it was going to be this hard,” Willow said, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “You bring me out here, away from the Hellmouth, and suddenly it feels like everything bad there is following me around. I look into this forest and all I see are demons hiding behind every tree. Every shadow has something dark in it, every sound we make is just…” she bit at her lower lip, white teeth pressing against the reddened flesh. “I’m bad, Tara. And it doesn’t matter where you take me, I’m still bad.”
The blonde stepped forward again now, placing her hands firmly onto Willow’s upper arms, gripping tightly enough to elicit a look of surprise from the other girl. Tara’s jaw firmed and she looked Willow dead in the eye, her blue gaze flashing cobalt, hard and sure.
“You are not bad,” she hissed from between gritted teeth. With every word, she shook Willow a little, jiggling the backpack that the redhead wore, gripping her with such force that Willow felt sure Tara’s fingers would leave marks, even through the layers of clothing that she was wearing.
“Tara – “
“Stop it!” Tara blurted suddenly, in a manner so unlike her usual self that it shocked Willow, spreading a chill of panic up and down her spine. Tara closed her eyes, gathering herself, knowing that she needed to remain calm, she needed to offer Willow as much succor as she possibly could right now. Lowering her tone, she opened her eyes and frowned into the green opposite her.
“You are not bad, Willow,” her voice was low, intent, passionate. “We’ve all seen evil; you have, I have, and you know that’s not you. You did bad things, but that doesn’t make you bad. I know you.” Swallowing, Tara was surprised to find that the tears she had shed alone were now threatening to rise up in her throat. “I know you,” she repeated, her voice catching on the words. “And I love you. I couldn’t love anything evil, Willow. And you couldn’t love me if you were truly bad.”
“I do love you,” Willow admitted softly, dropping her gaze.
“Well then,” Tara fingers cupped the redhead’s chin gently, lifting her head so that their eyes met once more. “Love doesn’t belong to the bad. Love is only for the good. Don’t you know that?”
For a moment, Willow wanted to fall into those blue eyes and get lost forever in what she knew to be safe, good, pure. It would be so easy, she thought. So easy to just fall into Tara and stay there, shielded from the world. For that moment, she was ready to give in, to admit defeat and let Tara lead the way.
And then…
And then her rationality reared up, like a forgotten wound, opening up to remind her that the healing needed to start with herself. As reticent as she was, the last vestige of everything Willowlike inside her told her that she needed to tend to that wound herself. Putting the Tara bandage over the top might feel good, but it wouldn’t heal her completely.
“What if I don’t get better?” she said in a small voice. “What if I can’t get better? What if I make a mistake?”
Tara trailed her fingers down Willow’s flushed cheek, stroking the softness there. “You’re allowed to make mistakes. That’s the human thing to do. But you don’t want to, and you’ll try not to.”
“What if you leave me again?”
Tara’s gaze narrowed and she removed her other hand from Willow’s arm. Taking the girl’s head between her palms, she leant forward so their foreheads were touching. She felt the clammy skin rest against her own and realized that her fingertips were beaded with sweat from Willow’s neck. Closing her eyes, she tried to give the other girl some kind of mental moral support, if she could. But Willow’s mind was still a swirling mess of murky confusion, and Tara felt her hopes dimmed by the barriers she couldn’t get her thoughts through.
“I’m not going to leave you,” she whispered. “I promise.”
“Please don’t,” Willow murmured. “I couldn’t bear it again. I think I’d die.”
Her plaintive tone, so childlike and yet tinged with a maturity that spoke of darker times moved Tara almost to tears again. Putting her arms around the thinner girl, she held the slight body against her own, hoping that Willow knew how much she loved her. Hoping that Willow could sense the nights when she had lain awake, her thoughts full of nothing but the redhead. How she had worried, how she had sobbed into her pillow, realizing that sleeping alone after so long with someone else was silly and pointless. It had been hard for her to, and, if she admitted it, it still was in a way. But despite the struggle that it was from day to day, Tara also believed that they would get through this. Together. It was fast becoming her watchword. One that she liked.
“Hey!”
Willow and Tara jerked away from one another as a voice carried over the still air towards them. Whirling in the direction of the sound, Willow almost stumbled, grasping onto Tara’s arm as they looked across the forest.
From the direction of what they suspected was the road, a figure was tramping heavily through the brush of the forest, tiny shrubs and branches cracking underfoot as it drew nearer. Willow and Tara exchanged a look of concern as the shadow became clearer, the lines of the figure sharpening into something recognizable. At first they thought it was Giles, but as he grew closer to them, they realized that he was older than Giles, and dressed in clothes that told more of physical labor than of books and research.
He was only a few feet away when Willow’s eyes caught the long double barreled shotgun tucked underneath his arm, the deadly eyes of the gun supported by one arm, gazing unblinkingly at them both. His other hand reached for the butt of the gun, hefting it into place near his shoulder as he approached.
They could hear his labored breathing as he walked over to them, his footsteps slightly less definite, his pace slowed. He was much older than Giles, they thought. His grizzled face showed lines that were etched into a reddened complexion; gray hair straggling out from underneath a battered cloth cap. He hadn’t shaved, and white stubble peppered his chin and face, giving credence to his age, in a way that his rapid movement towards them hadn’t. However, it was his eyes that both girls noticed. Clear, sparkling, sky blue eyes that gleamed from amidst his face, as though wanting to point even more clearly to their incongruity. They were the eyes of a younger, more vibrant man. Not the gaze of this elderly body that was covered in shades of dark green and brown, clothes that belied the life streaming from the eyes that now observed the two girls very carefully.
“This is private property,” the man said, his voice lilting over the consonants as he spoke in heavily accented English.
Tara frowned, taking the tiniest of steps forward. Willow, sensing this, took quite a larger step backwards, moving so that she was half standing behind Tara’s figure. Coward, her mind threw at her scornfully. Agreeing, she noted and accepted the insult, but didn’t move.
“We’re sorry,” Tara’s calm voice appeared to appease the man somewhat, and he visibly relaxed, his arms dropping down by his sides. The gun that he carried slipped down so that it was pointing towards the forest floor. “We didn’t know, we’re staying with a friend in the cottage back on the road,” she gestured faintly towards where she hoped to god the cottage was, although, after forty minutes wandering through the forest, it could have been anywhere.
The man grunted, nodding to himself. “Foreign are you?”
“American,” Tara grinned, despite herself, at his accusatory outburst.
“Mr. Giles never said he was having visitors.”
“It was kind of unexpected,” Tara explained, hardly surprised that Giles would have ingratiated himself with the locals. And they, of course, would probably fall for his manners and his gentility. Everyone in Sunnydale had.
The man grunted again, his grim expression never changing, but he held out a weathered brown hand towards them in greeting.
“Jones,” he said gruffly.
Tara grasped his hand and shook it, feeling the rough calluses on his palm against her own skin. “I’m Tara and this is Willow,” she nodded towards the redhead near her.
Jones glanced at Willow, his bright gaze taking in the rather disheveled girl and he half shrugged as she offered him what she hoped was a pleasant grin. “Willow eh,” he repeated her name, rolling the unusual word around in his mouth for a second. Then, obviously satisfied with their response, he withdrew his hand and cradled the gun against him as if it were a precious object.
“I’m gamekeeper for the property,” he told them, his accent wandering over the statement. “It’s private.”
“Yes, you already said that once,” Willow pointed out, bringing the man’s eyes to rest on her once again. She shifted uncomfortably and pushed at a lock of hair hanging over her eyes, tucking it back behind her ear. “Do you work for the Council then?”
Eyes narrowing, Jones sniffed in surprise. “Do you?” he asked, challenging them both with his stare.
“Oh no,” Tara almost laughed. “We almost did once, but,” she shared a glance with Willow, “it’s a long story. They know who we are though.”
“Do they now?” Jones cocked his head onto one side like a curious dog sniffing the air. “They know a lot then.”
“Uh, yeah,” Willow agreed, frowning slightly. There was something about him that was at the same time off-putting yet comforting. Despite his age, she was aware that not much could probably get past him. No wonder he was so intimidating, she thought to herself, she’d be willing to bet he knew every inch of the forests by heart.
“We were trying to find a path through the forest,” Tara interjected. “We thought we’d try walking to the mountain.”
Jones let out a short laugh that barely reached his mouth, stretching it into a mirthless and, the girls noticed, seemingly toothless grin for a second. “Got lost, did you?” he asked, his bushy eyebrows reaching up above his eyes interrogatively.
“No, we planned it that way actually -” Willow began irritably, sarcasm getting the better of her, and then stopped as Jones stiffened visibly in front of her. “Yes, we got lost,” she sighed, looking at the green prison surrounding them.
“Need to just carry on over there,” Jones pointed to their left. “Pathway starts just beyond those trees and takes you right there.” He clucked his tongue under his breath disparagingly and shook his head. “Don’t get visitors in the forest you know, not for a while. Not for a long while,” he finished grimly, his mouth set into a hard line.
Tara exchanged another secretive glance with Willow, the corners of her mouth smiling towards the redhead, who pressed her lips together and looked down at her feet. She was almost jealous of the way that Tara was finding all of this so amusing, when she herself was distinctly failing to see the humor of the situation.
A hand slipped into her own. Tara’s fingers curled around her flesh, pulling her in the direction that Jones had suggested. Crunching their way through the undergrowth, the two girls made their way over to where a huge oak spread its branches above them, shielding a makeshift path. Behind the tree, the undergrowth cleared somewhat into a brown walkway where the shrubs had been trampled and pressed against the dirt. It wound off in front of them, guiding them between the woods off towards the foothills of the mountain.
Jones walked behind them, whether assuring himself of their safety or their intentions, neither girl was sure. But the presence of the gamekeeper, and his gun kept them moving pretty swiftly on. Stepping around the oak, Tara turned and faced the craggy features that looked on impassively.
“Thanks Jones,” she murmured, squeezing on Willow’s fingers.
He shrugged, hefting the gun up under his shoulder once more, resting the dark wooden butt against his body. “You have to be careful,” he said mysteriously, his bright eyes flickering back to where they had been standing.
“Uh, sure.” Willow frowned. “We’ll keep to the path.”
“Are there animals here then?” Tara asked, her gaze sweeping the forest. It was still. Quiet. Too quiet, she thought, for animals to be living here.
“What?” Jones frowned, his brows lurching down darkly over his gaze, confusion coloring his face.
“You’re the gamekeeper,” Tara gestured towards his gun, “what game do the Council keep?”
Jones straightened up, puffing out his chest, clutching onto his gun firmly. He shook his head and pursed his lips, taking on a persona of importance and imperiousness.
“Just the gamekeeper,” he said shortly, not once meeting the curious gaze of the two girls. “I keep the forest safe.” The expression on his face suggested that he wasn’t to be queried further on the subject. For a moment, it seemed as though even the birds high above weren’t to question him; they fell silent for what seemed like endless seconds. Jones lifted his eyes, looking from one girl to the other, as though daring them to ask him more. As a frown burrowed between Tara’s eyes, and she drew in breath to query him, Willow instinctively squeezed her hand and shook her head imperceptibly. Opening her mouth then closing it again, Tara blinked slowly. Then she looked over to where Jones stood, as granite-faced as the rock they could see looming on the horizon.
“Thanks for showing us the way,” she finally said.
Jones nodded abruptly, his head jerking down and then back up again in response. “Keep to the path,” was all he said, before turning on his heel and heading off back into the depths of the forest, moving with seeming purpose through the underbrush, melting into the trees once more.
Tara turned to Willow and grinned apologetically. “Well,” she said, her eyebrows flickering up and then back down again.
“Yeah,” Willow agreed, “too weird.”
“At least we got closer to the mountain,” Tara pulled on Willow’s hand and led her in the direction of the stone escarpment, following the pathway to where it wound in between the tall trees.
“What do you think he meant by keeping the forest safe?” the redhead asked, her previous anger forgotten, replaced instead by curiosity.
“Don’t know,” Tara shrugged, “I guess he looks after the wildlife, or whatever.”
“Tara,” Willow said quietly, mindful of the quiet around them. The blonde stopped and turned, facing her girlfriend. “Have you seen any wildlife, I mean, anything at all? Heard anything?” Her green eyes widened as they flickered to the trees around them.
Tara pressed her lips together, frowning. “Well…uh, no.” she answered. She shrugged, “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t any.” She tugged at Willow’s hand again and the two resumed walking along the path.
“Yeah, I know, I know,” the redhead admitted grudgingly, “but all the same, I wouldn’t trust anything owned by the Council.”
Letting out a short laugh, Tara pulled the redhead to her and planted a brief kiss on her cheek, sliding her arm around the slight shoulders of the other girl. “My Willow,” she said, “always so suspicious.”
“Right,” the redhead allowed herself a small smile. “Well you know what they say, you can take a girl out of the Hellmouth, but you – “
“Can’t take the Hellmouth out of the girl,” Tara finished, laughing. A moment later, Willow joined her, bumping her hips against the blonde jokingly and slipping her arm through Tara’s as the path led them on towards the mountain.
***
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"Bitter, party of one. Bitter, party of one." she muttered... ~ Four Months After by Capt. Murdock
by Pixie » Thu Feb 07, 2002 7:57 pm
*twirls hair suggestively* (woo hoo, my hair is long enough to twirl!) And you know, "whore" is so...crass, tacky. Can we call it something else? Oh hell, I'll do anything for more of this fic!
Edited to add: Look at me, I'm a Cool Monster Fighter!! Woo hoo! Numfarr, do the dance of joy!
[This message has been edited by Pixie (edited February 07, 2002).]
by Dumbsaint » Thu Feb 07, 2002 8:41 pm
Ruth... Are you saying that I'm not whore enough for you any longer?
*sobs*
Edited to say: Ooooh! This is my last post as Willowhand. Anyone wanna help me make use of this thing whilst I still can? ^_^
Now I'm feeling all... spelly.
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Shiver me timberless.
[This message has been edited by Dumbsaint (edited February 07, 2002).]
by Lonewolf » Fri Feb 08, 2002 12:33 am
Lonewolf
[This message has been edited by Lonewolf (edited February 08, 2002).]
by NoveltyAct » Fri Feb 08, 2002 12:33 am
quote:
Originally posted by AutumnT:
rrrrrrrrooowwwrrrr
y'know, can i just say...and i sincerely hope no one takes any sort of offense at the potential cheekiness of this...
i usually lurk waaaay more than i post...and before tara came to btvs i was a major scully fanatic...
i never got a chance to be an official sister of the order, autumn, but rest assured i have visited the obsse enough times to understand things about trout, and pranciness, and charc--
and when i came to the kitten board and fell under the spell of tommofic and tommo-posting, somehow, for some reason, there stirred in the back of my mind the scientific (and let's be honest, salacious)curiosity:
i wonder what would happen if ever the twain should meet?
and now we're all finding out.
tommo and autumn. autumn and tommo. it's like chocolate and peanut butter: two great tastes that taste great together.
(p.s. before you say anything tommo, though i am by rights a yank, i lived in england long enough to have already endured that whole "chocolate and peanut butter? why in god's name put a savory with a sweet?" debate. hey--savory. sweet. you do the math. ------------------ [This message has been edited by NoveltyAct (edited February 08, 2002).]
Novelty
Okay, I'll admit it, I'm lame.
So where's my parade?
IP: Logged
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Willow! Check you out! Witch-fu. -BUFFY
IP: Logged
Look, I don't want people to be my whores. Really I don't. As long as there is a sun in the sky, as long as there is rain in England (humph), as long as Willow and Tara struggle to be naked and sexy in a scene on UPN...I will write. As Joss calls me witless, I shall never stop writing fic again!!!!!
Sigh.
Sorry.
I got excited, you know, with the bears and the sneaky cuteness of Willow. Hey, look, that's what I call funny. I can't do any better...
NoveltyAct, you are a true fiend. I'm actually planning on winging my way over to the US and kidnapping Autumn just to have her slaver over my shoulder when I'm writing and beat me, shouting "More landscapes, bitch! Write more leafy goodness godammit!"
Glad you enjoyed. Although chocolate and peanut butter *gag*. Noooo. I can only eat that disgrace to humanity known as peanut butter with jam. Not jelly. Jam.
Mmmmm. Oh god. I just remembered something. Jam. JAM. Yum. *shiver*
I shouldn't drink coffee right before posting, should I?
Thanks to you all; I embrace you in my womanly arms, holding you close to my bosom. You're all so kind and sweet. And you'll LOVE me after the next chapter. I promise.
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"Bitter, party of one. Bitter, party of one." she muttered... ~ Four Months After by Capt. Murdock
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"Eat lot's of applesauce, preferably fed to you by attractive young lesbians." Amber Benson
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quote:
Originally posted by NoveltyAct:
i never got a chance to be an official sister of the order, autumn, but rest assured i have visited the obsse enough times to understand things about trout, and pranciness, and charc--
Eeek. My secret double life. Probably wouldn't suprise you that I'm so invested in Willow CHarc then, eh? Sparky says hi.
Oh and Ruth? More landscapes, bitch! Write more leafy goodness godammit! Oh and tell me about them thar hills. You know that's the landscape I like. mmmm hills.
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Autumn
I'm just taking stuff and not paying for it. In what twisted dictionary is that stealing?
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Willow! Check you out! Witch-fu. -BUFFY
IP: Logged
posted February 08, 2002 06:55 I just love this fic. I just started reading it from the begining and let me just say...WOW! Excellent! Can't wait for the next update!----------------------------------------
Willow! Check you out! Witch-fu. -BUFFY
Look, I don't want people to be my whores. Really I don't. As long as there is a sun in the sky, as long as there is rain in England (humph), as long as Willow and Tara struggle to be naked and sexy in a scene on UPN...I will write. As Joss calls me witless, I shall never stop writing fic again!!!!!
Sigh.
Sorry.
I got excited, you know, with the bears and the sneaky cuteness of Willow. Hey, look, that's what I call funny. I can't do any better...
NoveltyAct, you are a true fiend. I'm actually planning on winging my way over to the US and kidnapping Autumn just to have her slaver over my shoulder when I'm writing and beat me, shouting "More landscapes, bitch! Write more leafy goodness godammit!"
Glad you enjoyed. Although chocolate and peanut butter *gag*. Noooo. I can only eat that disgrace to humanity known as peanut butter with jam. Not jelly. Jam.
Mmmmm. Oh god. I just remembered something. Jam. JAM. Yum. *shiver*
I shouldn't drink coffee right before posting, should I?
Thanks to you all; I embrace you in my womanly arms, holding you close to my bosom. You're all so kind and sweet. And you'll LOVE me after the next chapter. I promise.
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"Bitter, party of one. Bitter, party of one." she muttered... ~ Four Months After by Capt. Murdock
IP: Logged
posted February 08, 2002 07:09 Oh Julia, sweetheart...come here and let me put your um...your mind at rest.Look, I don't want people to be my whores. Really I don't. As long as there is a sun in the sky, as long as there is rain in England (humph), as long as Willow and Tara struggle to be naked and sexy in a scene on UPN...I will write. As Joss calls me witless, I shall never stop writing fic again!!!!!
Sigh.
Sorry.
I got excited, you know, with the bears and the sneaky cuteness of Willow. Hey, look, that's what I call funny. I can't do any better...
NoveltyAct, you are a true fiend. I'm actually planning on winging my way over to the US and kidnapping Autumn just to have her slaver over my shoulder when I'm writing and beat me, shouting "More landscapes, bitch! Write more leafy goodness godammit!"
Glad you enjoyed. Although chocolate and peanut butter *gag*. Noooo. I can only eat that disgrace to humanity known as peanut butter with jam. Not jelly. Jam.
Mmmmm. Oh god. I just remembered something. Jam. JAM. Yum. *shiver*
I shouldn't drink coffee right before posting, should I?
Thanks to you all; I embrace you in my womanly arms, holding you close to my bosom. You're all so kind and sweet. And you'll LOVE me after the next chapter. I promise.
------------------
"Bitter, party of one. Bitter, party of one." she muttered... ~ Four Months After by Capt. Murdock
------------------
"Eat lot's of applesauce, preferably fed to you by attractive young lesbians." Amber Benson
IP: Logged
posted February 08, 2002 11:12 Tommo this is great as per usual. Asfor holding us to your bosom...does that involve Jam too? Cause if it does I'm there!------------------
"Eat lot's of applesauce, preferably fed to you by attractive young lesbians." Amber Benson
quote:
Originally posted by NoveltyAct:
i never got a chance to be an official sister of the order, autumn, but rest assured i have visited the obsse enough times to understand things about trout, and pranciness, and charc--
Eeek. My secret double life. Probably wouldn't suprise you that I'm so invested in Willow CHarc then, eh? Sparky says hi.
Oh and Ruth? More landscapes, bitch! Write more leafy goodness godammit! Oh and tell me about them thar hills. You know that's the landscape I like. mmmm hills.
------------------
Autumn
I'm just taking stuff and not paying for it. In what twisted dictionary is that stealing?
IP: Logged
posted February 08, 2002 11:26quote:
Originally posted by NoveltyAct:
i never got a chance to be an official sister of the order, autumn, but rest assured i have visited the obsse enough times to understand things about trout, and pranciness, and charc--
Eeek. My secret double life. Probably wouldn't suprise you that I'm so invested in Willow CHarc then, eh? Sparky says hi.
Oh and Ruth? More landscapes, bitch! Write more leafy goodness godammit! Oh and tell me about them thar hills. You know that's the landscape I like. mmmm hills.
------------------
Autumn
I'm just taking stuff and not paying for it. In what twisted dictionary is that stealing?
quote:by ForeverPiper » Fri Feb 08, 2002 4:55 am
----------------------------------------
Willow! Check you out! Witch-fu. -BUFFY
by tommo » Fri Feb 08, 2002 5:09 am
Look, I don't want people to be my whores. Really I don't. As long as there is a sun in the sky, as long as there is rain in England (humph), as long as Willow and Tara struggle to be naked and sexy in a scene on UPN...I will write. As Joss calls me witless, I shall never stop writing fic again!!!!!
Sigh.
Sorry.
I got excited, you know, with the bears and the sneaky cuteness of Willow. Hey, look, that's what I call funny. I can't do any better...
NoveltyAct, you are a true fiend. I'm actually planning on winging my way over to the US and kidnapping Autumn just to have her slaver over my shoulder when I'm writing and beat me, shouting "More landscapes, bitch! Write more leafy goodness godammit!"
Glad you enjoyed. Although chocolate and peanut butter *gag*. Noooo. I can only eat that disgrace to humanity known as peanut butter with jam. Not jelly. Jam.
Mmmmm. Oh god. I just remembered something. Jam. JAM. Yum. *shiver*
I shouldn't drink coffee right before posting, should I?
Thanks to you all; I embrace you in my womanly arms, holding you close to my bosom. You're all so kind and sweet. And you'll LOVE me after the next chapter. I promise.
------------------
"Bitter, party of one. Bitter, party of one." she muttered... ~ Four Months After by Capt. Murdock
by nika » Fri Feb 08, 2002 9:12 am
------------------
"Eat lot's of applesauce, preferably fed to you by attractive young lesbians." Amber Benson
by AutumnT » Fri Feb 08, 2002 9:26 am
quote:
Originally posted by NoveltyAct:
i never got a chance to be an official sister of the order, autumn, but rest assured i have visited the obsse enough times to understand things about trout, and pranciness, and charc--
Eeek. My secret double life. Probably wouldn't suprise you that I'm so invested in Willow CHarc then, eh? Sparky says hi.
Oh and Ruth? More landscapes, bitch! Write more leafy goodness godammit! Oh and tell me about them thar hills. You know that's the landscape I like. mmmm hills.
------------------
Autumn
I'm just taking stuff and not paying for it. In what twisted dictionary is that stealing?
quote:by Kalita » Fri Feb 08, 2002 11:24 am
See, now I've gone all worish. And then she tells us she doesn't need whores. What am I supposed to do?!?
by Dumbsaint » Fri Feb 08, 2002 11:28 am
Oooooh. *gets mesmerized by Tara's Sassy Eggs off to the left there*
*wipes drool from chin*
Jam.
Must. Have. Jam.
------------------
Shiver me timberless.
by Brynn » Fri Feb 08, 2002 12:02 pm
Really enjoying the story -- and I am eagerly awaiting more ...
by ShaggyKat » Fri Feb 08, 2002 12:21 pm
quote:
Originally posted by Kalita:
See, now I've gone all worish. And then she tells us she doesn't need whores. What am I supposed to do?!?
Try hard to get.
by tommo » Fri Feb 08, 2002 1:21 pm
I like the way any thread I post in gets lost amidst the general smut and dirty talk. It's quintessentially me, I think. Heh.
More story comin' up soon. Promise. I'm just um...tweaking. Which has little to do with the actual story, hee hee.
------------------
"Bitter, party of one. Bitter, party of one." she muttered... ~ Four Months After by Capt. Murdock
by AutumnT » Fri Feb 08, 2002 4:36 pm
------------------
Autumn
I'm just taking stuff and not paying for it. In what twisted dictionary is that stealing?
by tommo » Fri Feb 08, 2002 5:07 pm
Now, if you've read my other fics, then you'll recognise a couple of the names in this chapter. If not, then hey, you'll be in the dark still. Just go with it.
I've tried to cleverly and seamlessly weave in other aspects of my version of the Buffyverse. Heh. Stupid me. Well, anyhoo, I plonked 'em in there. Make of it what you will.
Enjoy.
Title: Touchstone
Rating: NC17, although not all chapters are, but this covers me for those bits that couldn’t possibly be anything else. Heh.
Copyright Disclaimer: Bowing and scraping does nothing for the knees. Joss…blah blah…Mutant Enemy…etc etc…sigh…
Feedback: Sure, if you feel that way inclined. My email is: tommo27@hotmail.com
Archive: Until I get my arse in gear and sort out my own W/T website, you can have this wherever you like it. I’m only too happy if someone else wants it. Just ask first, ok? Bad manners are nobody’s friend.
Summary: This takes place in my own Buffyverse, and if you’ve read any of my other stories, then you’ll know what I mean. Basically we follow the season events, but with a few changes. In fact, who am I kidding; I make direct references to my other fic, because I’m a whore like that. And I care…not one little bit. Ha. There are also Season 6 spoilers in this if that kind of thing bothers you. Don’t take it to heart if it does; they’re not like, big honkin’ spoilers or anything.
Part 7
Giles was pacing. He didn’t mean to, but it seemed like the only choice he had right now, and he was sure that if he continued just one minute longer, the rug in front of the fireplace would be worn through by his agitation. Glancing across at the telephone, sitting mute on the small table by the front window, he scowled. It had been over an hour since he’d made an urgent call to the Council’s HQ, and, despite his insistence, nobody had bothered to return his enquiry as of yet. Typical, he sighed to himself, reaching the armchair in front of the window and turning on his heel to pursue the stretch of rug in front of the fireplace.
His research had shown something anomalous. Something that had intrigued and yet, at the same time, alerted him to the possibility that this perhaps wasn’t some kind of white elephant placement. Naturally, his first reaction had been to call the Council. After all, playing by their rules was his only option these days. The young man that had answered the telephone had been polite, if a little distant. Again, Giles thought ruefully to himself, that was becoming typical of the Council’s modernization. Gone were the days of his grandmother’s reign, where manners and courtesy were considered paramount. These days it was business, and damn anyone who got in the way of that. The Council operative had promised him a return telephone call, although, Giles spun round and begun his trek back towards the window again, that wasn’t happening anytime soon.
Stopping in the middle of the room, he reached up and removed his glasses, pinching at the bridge of his nose. He was starting to get a headache, that was certain. All of this paperwork and ridiculous categorizing of facts had suited him at one time, so why not now? He remembered when he worked at the British Museum; a time when his days were spent in a dusty, musty little room where he filed and listed and was more than happy to have objects as his friends instead of flesh and blood people.
What had changed?
Sliding his glasses back onto his nose again, he pursed his lips and hardly bothered to answer himself. He already knew exactly what had changed. The same thing that happened to most Watchers he’d come across. Watchers before him and, the image of a tall attractive figure slipped into his mind, one Watcher after him.
Anna Cooper.
Faith’s first Watcher, who had met her untimely death at the hands of Kakistos. The Council had partly hinted that it was somehow her own fault for engendering her demise. They had told him that becoming attached to one’s Slayer stopped a Watcher from thinking clearly. In the end it was merely a job one must do. The fact that human beings were involved meant little or indeed, nothing at all.
Anna had allowed personal feelings to get in the way of her job, her duty, her mission. Or so the Council had explained to him under a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ scenario. What had happened to her was really little more than a mistake she had made. No matter that it had horribly damaged her Slayer, Faith. No matter that the Council hushed it all up as though nothing untoward had happened. No matter that the next Watcher they assigned to Faith, Wesley Wyndham-Price, was ill-trained and little more than a walking textbook. No, the Council had made it perfectly clear to him that Anna’s fault lay in her development of a relationship with her Slayer. She had simply cared too much.
And so had he.
Sometimes he wondered if the Council knew just what the outside world was like. He had looked at the busy workers at the headquarters in London once he returned to England and somehow, deep down, felt pity for them. They could never know the joy a Slayer could bring to their lives. Never know the pain. Or the love. He knew from one glance that these people, so focused on their task fighting against the evils in the world, had never stopped to ask themselves why they did it. Their reward was saving the world, not living in it.
He had become everything his grandmother had ever hoped for; he knew that. She was so essentially human, and always told him that the greatest loss his father had ever suffered hadn’t been the tutelage of his Slayer, it had been his grasp on his own humanity. Giles knew what she meant now. Those people at the Council, they could never understand what it was like to be so invested in one person in the entire world who could do what a Slayer could. It didn’t matter how many books they read; they could never know unless they had seen it. He had to ask himself how many of them would be changed forever if they had. If they had ever watched their Slayer face certain death. If they had ever cared so much about her work that their own aspirations had fallen by the wayside. If they had ever looked down at her broken body and seen the life trickle away from her face.
He was sure that, if they had seen that, then there would be no question about ‘personal involvement’ at all. None.
“Bloody Council,” he muttered under his breath, before a tiny smile formed at the corners of his mouth. “Talking to yourself again, Giles?” he said aloud, shaking his head amusedly. “First sign of madness you know,” he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and trudged across the rug towards the armchair. Dropping into it, he leant his head back on the frayed material behind him and closed his eyes. “And, of course, the second sign of madness is listening.”
Suddenly, the telephone trilled, shocking his eyes open and making his heart pitter-patter with alarm. His left hand shot out and he grabbed the receiver, holding it up to his ear before he was aware he’d even moved.
“Giles,” he barked.
“Mr. Giles,” the voice at the other end of the line said confidently. Giles’ heart sank. Robert Merryvale. The man who had toadied up through the ranks of the Council beside Quentin Travers. The man who had ingratiated himself with the right kind of people who could put him where he wanted to be. His position in the Council wasn’t based on merit alone; everyone knew that. And yet, it hadn’t stopped him from becoming one of the most powerful administrators in the organization; in fact, there was currently talk of him being accepted onto the Board of Directors, a position that Giles’ own grandmother had held.
And yet, Giles hated him with a passion, mainly because he considered Merryvale partially responsible for the death of a very old and dear friend, Edith Betts. Merryvale’s success did little to impress Giles these days. The old Giles, perhaps. But now, the ex-Watcher realized, taking stock of one’s life did wonders for shuffling around perceptions of the people in it.
“Mr. Merryvale,” Giles’ voice was cold and impersonal. However, that fact seemed to sail glibly over Merryvale’s head, as the ex-Watcher heard a short harrumph of laughter from the other end of the line.
“Now then Giles,” Merryvale began, quite unperturbed by the hostility that was literally crackling along the line. “What’s all this about problems up there?”
“Not a problem Robert,” Giles used the man’s first name easily, sensing that it would not only irritate the Council employee, but would also indicate that he himself felt no inferiority, unlike the other operatives he had seen literally bow and scrape in front of the man. “There’s something in the research that doesn’t quite fit in.”
“Which is?”
“The ancient rituals of the Celts seem to have merged into mythology from the seventh century onwards,” Giles explained. “In fact, from then on, there’s no real record that the Druids themselves ever existed. Only hearsay and allusion. Nothing permanent.”
“And?”
Sighing slightly, Giles mouthed a couple of rather colorful expletives before adding volume to his voice. “We know that the Celts were all but wiped out by the Romans during the invasion of Anglesey. What we don’t know is how the Druids overcame that to continue practicing. The research I’ve done seems to suggest that the Druids integrated themselves into Celtic society, so much so that it seemed as though they disappeared. When in fact,” he paused for breath, “they were stronger than ever. They just went underground.”
“Underground?” Merryvale seemed interested by Giles’ last statement.
“Yes,” the ex-Watcher nodded, even though he was aware the man he was talking to couldn’t see him, “quite literally, it seems. There is evidence to suggest that caves in the mountains here were the homes of Druids for many years. Perhaps even centuries.”
“Hmm,” Merryvale thought aloud, mulling over the information for what seemed like endless minutes. “Alright. I’ll send someone up there.”
“What?” Giles drew back from the telephone receiver, almost appalled, his face shocked. “You’re taking me off the case?”
Merryvale laughed, his rumbling efforts at humor only serving to incense Giles even further. “No, no, Giles. Goodness,” he barked, “you’re the closest thing we’ve got to a walking reference library right now. We need you up there. No. What I’m going to do is send someone who can guide you through the caves, if you find any. Certainly, someone who can help you find them anyway. I daresay you’d appreciate some help with the research as well.”
“Actually Robert, I’m quite well equipped and trained to – “ Giles began, but the other man cut him off.
“You’re our paperwork man. I’m sending someone who is rather more experienced in the field. They’ll be there later today.”
The click and humming tone that followed indicated to Giles that the conversation was over. For a moment he held the receiver away from him, as though it was too disgusting to have near his face, gazing at it with repulsion and loathing. Then, as Merryvale’s words sunk in, Giles’ grip on the receiver tightened, his knuckles turning white. Turning, he slammed the receiver down onto the telephone, the machine giving a few faint clangs and rings as the trilling bell protested to the force being exerted upon it.
Leaping up from the armchair, Giles realized that he was angry. No, it was more than that. He was furious. Someone more experienced in the field? That was a joke; it had to be. Who was more experienced in the field than he was? Who? He’d fought demons of unimaginable size and strength; he’d clambered over most of Sunnydale, run what felt like marathons at the time to outwit and outfight the worst kind of evil. And here was Robert bloody Merryvale telling him that he couldn’t do a bit of potholing? A walking library? Paperwork man?
“Pillock,” he snarled, looking down at the telephone.
Stomping across to the table again, Giles yanked out a chair and dropped into it heavily, his hands slamming down on the tabletop. Well, whoever this person was, they needn’t expect he’d welcome them with open…he paused, his anger draining away red from his face as it turned into realization.
His eyes traveled slowly towards the door to the spare room.
If Willow and Tara occupied the spare room, the only spare room, then where was this new arrival going to stay? Some young, energetic idiotic man with not much more than Council orders in his head, no doubt. With nowhere to sleep. Giles mind flickered to his own bedroom and the twin beds in it. Dear Lord, he thought, exasperatedly.
He pulled at his glasses again and pinched his nose. His headache was returning with intent.
***
------------------
"Bitter, party of one. Bitter, party of one." she muttered... ~ Four Months After by Capt. Murdock
by Charlie » Fri Feb 08, 2002 5:42 pm
But then I am quite drunk.
But I think I love you anyway.
'“Pillock,” he snarled, looking down at the telephone.'
For some reason this made me laugh stupidly. I love grumpy Giles. Oh well, going to bed now...
------------------
"Je dois partir maintenant parce que ma grandmere est flambé..."
- Eddie 'covered in beeeees!' Izzard
by Scout » Fri Feb 08, 2002 6:33 pm
The Council never said it was a man - is Giles getting a female roomie? Lord Ruth, cut the man a break. Once Willow and Tara leave, all he'll have left is the landscape. He needs more than that. Help him!
by tommo » Fri Feb 08, 2002 7:53 pm
And Giles likes the landscape just fine; besides, Willow and Tara aren't going anywhere right now...heh heh.
Jam jammy jam jam. Yummy jam.
------------------
"Bitter, party of one. Bitter, party of one." she muttered... ~ Four Months After by Capt. Murdock
by AutumnT » Fri Feb 08, 2002 9:43 pm
Actually, I'm so glad to read a story that features him so and his relationship with Willow & Tara as well as his feelings towards the council.
But hills. They are the best.
------------------
Autumn
I'm just taking stuff and not paying for it. In what twisted dictionary is that stealing?
by Pixie » Fri Feb 08, 2002 10:36 pm
quote:
Originally posted by Charlie:
Ruth, I think I love you.But then I am quite drunk.
But I think I love you anyway.
Charlie, I'm with you. But I'm not drunk. So what does that say about me?
Okay, I'll bite. *jumps up and down* Who's coming, who's coming?
by moegirl1 » Sat Feb 09, 2002 12:20 am
by Charlie » Sat Feb 09, 2002 2:19 am
quote:
Originally posted by Pixie:
Charlie, I'm with you. But I'm not drunk. So what does that say about me?
I dunno, that we're both whores but you're a whore all the time and... no, that didn't work, just insulted. 
I think all it means is that Ruth's nefarious plan to make the whole world fall in love with her with her fics is going rather well. She'll lure us all in and then bam! infect us all with her bitterness. Am I right?
And the strong undercurrent of jam in this thread is worrying me...
------------------
"Je dois partir maintenant parce que ma grandmere est flambé..."
- Eddie 'covered in beeeees!' Izzard
by Pixie » Sat Feb 09, 2002 9:28 am
quote:
Originally posted by tommo:
I like the way any thread I post in gets lost amidst the general smut and dirty talk.
quote:
Originally posted by Charlie:
I dunno, that we're both whores but you're a whore all the time and...
Some of my friends would plotz if they saw the comments coming out of my keyboard here. So, thanks for giving me a place where I can let loose my inner...whore!
quote:quote:by tommo » Sat Feb 09, 2002 9:41 am
quote:
Originally posted by Charlie:
I think all it means is that Ruth's nefarious plan to make the whole world fall in love with her with her fics is going rather well. She'll lure us all in and then bam! infect us all with her bitterness. Am I right?
Oh my God! Yes you are! Because you know, fic writing is all just a seduction of one way or another. And seeing as I'm like, the Queen of Bitterness right now, I thought perhaps all you jolly little soldiers could do with a dose.
Actually, having said that, the odd thing is I keep sitting down to my computer and writing scenes that are just so sweet and lovely...I must remember to delete those from the final draft, heh heh.
quote:
And the strong undercurrent of jam in this thread is worrying me...
Ooooh no. Jam is good. Jam is very, very, very good. You'll see.
------------------
Sweetie...I'm a fag.
by nika » Sat Feb 09, 2002 10:14 am
by tommo » Sat Feb 09, 2002 11:43 am
quote:
Originally posted by nika:
I don't believe Ruth could be bitter.
Oh...believe it. Believe it. Heh.
Landscape and jam I might have, but bitterness I've got in truckloads.
And thanks for the notes on my new sig. I felt it was time for a change, and seeing that awful line below everything I post makes me realise that I might only write fanfic, but at least I'd never write lines like that for Tara...
------------------
Sweetie...I'm a fag.
by Charlie » Sat Feb 09, 2002 12:06 pm
quote:
Originally posted by tommo:
Ooooh no. Jam is good. Jam is very, very, very good. You'll see.
OK, really worried now. Jam scares me.
And sweetie, you may be a fag and I may be a fag, hell, Tara may even be one, but I have to say I preferred Capt. Murdoch as your sig! I so would like to know who picked up on that line, cos if it had made the final script.... well, hey I'd have laughed.
------------------
"Je dois partir maintenant parce que ma grandmere est flambé..."
- Eddie 'covered in beeeees!' Izzard
by supermus » Sat Feb 09, 2002 12:08 pm
------------------
"You made a bear! Undo it! Undo it!"
"Good bye to you/Goodbye to everything that I knew"
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