Laragh wrote:Oh wow, two updates! I never thought I'd see the end of this, so excited!
I love how you write everyone, it's so believable.
Can't wait for more!
You're much too kind - Thank you! Honestly, I never thought I'd see the end of it either, but I think I just might...
And now a third update!
Chapter 11 – The Sound of Drums
Rating: R for language, I suppose.
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Willow’s eyes opened just as Buffy handed Tara a tray of food. Tara laughed as she blinked sleepily. “I should have known Jell-O w-would be enough to wake you.”
“Ooh, Jell-O?” Willow grinned. She scooted up the bed and took the offered snack. “So...what’d I miss?”
Alternating between them, they laid it all out for her. She set the plastic cup aside on the table beside the bed. “Suddenly, I’m less hungry.”
“Come on, baby – our daughters n-need food too. Just try, okay?”
“Fine,” Willow grumbled. “So...the big smackdown. Where’s it supposed to happen?”
“Rome,” Spike answered from the doorway. “In two weeks.”
“And how do you know that, exactly?” Faith stared at him.
“I...got a message. You’re all supposed to be there.” Spike lied hastily. “Some kind of higher being – I don’t know exactly who he was.”
“Upper Management?” Tara asked.
“I don’t know – he really wasn’t forthcoming with details.”
“You know, if we keep having apocalypses there, they’re going to stop letting us in the country. Two weeks, huh?” Buffy mused. “I guess we’d better get started. I’ll call Giles, and see what he can find on Chaos. Since he and Ethan were tight, he might have some useful info.”
“We should head b-back to Sunnydale, as soon as p-possible.” Tara said. Willow raised a hand, like an eager pupil wanting to answer a question.
“Guys? Before we get into full-on planning mode, could you give Tara and me a few minutes?”
“Oh,” Buffy looked taken aback. “Of course. Come on, guys.” When the door closed behind them, Willow turned to Tara.
“We need to talk.”
“About w-what?”
“Us. If you think that you’re forgiven, just because there’s another apocalypse coming...”
“I d-don’t,” Tara looked down, trying to hide behind hair that was too short to cover her face. “I n-never thought that.”
“Good. I like seeing you this way again, though.”
“W-what way?”
“With a purpose. Not so sad,” Willow reached out and stroked her cheek. “I need you to promise me something – right now, okay?”
“What?”
“No, you have to promise first.”
“Fine – I p-promise.”
“Good.”
“Now w-what did I promise?”
“That we’ll never be apart again. There’s going to be no more leaving me behind, no more hiding, no more secrets. Whatever comes at us from here on, we face it together. Because otherwise, this...us...it doesn’t mean anything. You told me a long time ago that being in a relationship means I don’t get to decide what’s best for us. Do you remember?”
“Yes,” Tara whispered. “I remember.”
“Well, it works the other way too.”
“I know,” Tara nodded, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I’m s-sorry. For e-everything.”
“Shh,” Willow whispered. “No more sorry. You’ve apologised enough now – it’s time to get on living. Now come up here and kiss me. And then we’re having some yummy hospital food, and then we’re going to a hairdresser to get that black taken out and give you a nicer-looking cut. That colour is awful – I know you were going all emo, but you could have at least picked a nice black instead of ‘inky number seven.’”
Tara kissed her softly. “I’ve missed Willowbabble.”
“I’ve missed having you to babble to. Now eat up – you’re too skinny! My Tara has lots of lovely curves, and I want them back.” Willow smiled.
[hr]
“Hello?”
“Buffy? Is that you? It’s lovely to hear from you.”
“Is it, Giles? Is there a reason you never call me, then?””
“I...” he sighed.
“I know – Faith. But you’re going to have to get over it and deal. Besides, we’ve got a whole new apocalypse coming, so you might get your chance to fight yet.” She explained the situation, pausing only to answer questions. “So – is Ethan still in the Initiative’s prison?”
“Not exactly – I had him transferred to a comparable facility here in England. I thought it best that there was someone nearby if he were to escape. I’ll have one of the girls go and speak to him as soon as possible.”
“No – you know he’ll just jerk them around. You go. He might be a bit more upfront with you.”
There was a long hesitation. “Very well. I’ll call you the minute I know anything. And Buffy – I am sorry that we’ve drifted out of touch. I never meant for that.”
“I know. We’ll talk more later, okay?”
“Goodbye, Buffy.” There was a click, and he was gone.
Buffy flipped her mobile shut and turned to Faith, who looked crestfallen. “It’s okay, Faith – really. He’ll come through.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “I still shouldn’t have done that to him.”
“You’re hot-headed,” Buffy patted her shoulder. “It’s part of what makes you so cute. Admittedly not your best decision, but it’s in the past. Since Tara came back – hell, long before that - we’ve all screwed up. We’ve all hurt people we love. And that includes me. That’s what family and friends are all about – we get the occasional free pass. Now come on, we have plane tickets to buy.”
[hr]
The knock at the front door caught Clem by surprise. He jerked awake in his chair in front of the television and got up slowly. Still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he pulled open the front door. Before he could make a sound, the man on the other side knocked him unconscious. Stepping over his felled form, the man slowly and silently ascended the stairs.
In the bedroom, Dawn was still staring at Anya in shock. “What did you say?”
Anya blushed brick red and looked down. “Nothing. Forget it.”
“I really won’t. Did you say you wanted to kiss me?”
“Yeah,” Anya mumbled. “Isn’t gonna happen, though, so forget I said it.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
Anya scoffed. “Have you seen you? How could you even ask?” She flushed even darker. “Uhm...that was supposed to be an inside-my-head sort of thought.”
Dawn leaned toward her, and the man in the hall chose that moment to kick the door in. Anya cursed inwardly, even as she tucked and rolled away from the door. She came to her feet and froze as she caught sight of the man.
“Dawn,” she whispered. “Run. Get out the window. Go now.”
“Not without you. He’s just one guy.”
“He’s not a guy. That’s Chaos.”
“I...what do you mean?”
“I mean Chaos, the lower power – I can see it in his aura. Just run. I’ll hold him as long as I can.”
“I won’t leave you,” Dawn hissed, taking her hand.
“What do you want?” Anya asked the man.
“I need a key.”
Anya’s pulse quickened, and she shielded Dawn behind herself. “That’s never going to happen, Chaos. Ever.”
“Aww – is the child of magic going to stop me? That’s cute.”
“Dawn, please run. Please – I can’t stop him, not really. I can buy you some time, but I need you to run.”
“But-“
“Go, dammit!” Anya cried, and Dawn bolted for the window. She climbed down the side of the house, using a path she remembered from her teenage adventures. She’d only made it a few steps away from the house when Anya flew out the same window, landing heavily on her back. She coughed, and blood bubbled from between her lips.
“Jesus – Anya...”
“Leave me,” Anya whispered. “Just go.”
“Like hell.” Dawn picked the fallen girl up and supported her with one arm, limping down the street as fast as she could manage. She reached the intersection at the end of the block and looked behind them. There was no sign of Chaos, but she wasn’t about to stop. She started to turn left, but Anya tightened her grip.
“Right. Go right – head for the Bronze.”
“The...why?”
“Crowded. I...oh...” she moaned.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think he broke a few ribs. Might be a bit of bleeding inside, too. Kinda tickles a bit.”
“You fought him off, though!” Dawn turned right and they continued their slow escape.
“No,” Anya laughed, wincing. “I never touched him. This,” she gestured at herself with her free hand, “was a warning shot. Just one.”
“But if you didn’t stop him – why isn’t he following us?”
“I don’t know. Let’s not stop and chat about it, though.” They staggered to the Bronze in silence punctuated only by Anya’s gasps as her broken ribs shifted. They paid the bored-looking bouncer with cash that Dawn had in the pocket of her jeans and found a seat in the back, where it was darkest.
Dawn pulled out her mobile and called Buffy. The call went directly to voicemail. “Buffy – it’s Dawn. Chaos is here, if that means anything to you. He was at the house – he attacked Anya, and she’s hurt. We’re at the Bronze – I don’t know how long we can stay, though, I don’t know if he’s followed us. Call me soon, okay?” She hung up as a waitress approached the table.
“Can I, uh...” she hesitated as she looked at Anya, “get you guys anything?”
“Whiskey,” Anya rasped. “The good stuff.”
“I’ll need to see some-“
“There’s a fifty-dollar tip in it for you if you just go get it,” Dawn said quietly, and the waitress was gone in a flash. Dawn leaned across the seat to whisper in Anya’s ear over the din of the music. “Are you okay? I think we should go to the hospital.”
“I’ll live,” Anya whispered through chattering teeth. “I don’t want to go anywhere until we hear from Buffy.”
“And what do we do if he shows up here in the meantime?”
“We run,” Anya said seriously. “As fast as we can, as far as we can. Whatever he wants you for, it’s not good, and I obviously can’t protect you.” She coughed, and gasped in pain.
“Aren’t you all magic-ed up? Can’t you heal yourself?”
Anya chortled. “Doesn’t work like that. I can’t use magic on myself.”
“Why?”
“I dunno, Dawnie – it’s just one of those things. I’m sure there’s a good reason, but hell if I know what it is.” The waitress returned with the glass of whisky, and Dawn made good on her offer of a fifty-dollar tip. It was pocketed with a grin, and the waitress vanished again. Anya raised the glass and took a long sip. “Oh, that’s the ticket,” she sighed. “There’s no problem that can’t be solved by whisky.”
“Even a hangover?” Dawn asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Especially a hangover,” Anya nodded solemnly. They burst out giggling at the same time – and it was, of course, in that moment that the door of the Bronze opened and Chaos strode inside. Anya could sense his presence before he saw them, and they ducked out the back door – oblivious to the fact that Dawn’s phone was still lying on the table where they’d left it.
“Now I’m mad,” Anya whispered as she staggered down the alley. “Breaking my ribs is one thing, but I wasn’t done with that whisky.”
Ha. That was hilarious.
but then again, what's a scoobie without an apocalypse to avert?
