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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 24th Apr)
PostPosted: Sun Jan 27, 2008 2:31 pm 
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10. Troll Hammer
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G'day Kittens! Well now ... that's a better turnaround rate, don't ya think?. :D

*****

Zooeys_Bridge - I like Oz too. As for the cheating issue, I can cut him a little slack (how very unlike myself! :p). I've always been of the opinion that if he hadn't had the whole werewolf thing going, he never would have looked twice at El Skankoriffic Verruca.

But then there would have been even bigger problems when Tara turned up, so ... c'est la vie.

As for why Timothy recruited him ... well, one aspect of that might be suggested in this next update.

And don't expect that snarkiness to leave any time soon. :p

*****

wimpy0729 -
Quote:
And hopefully getting closer to get poor little Chloe back.
Well ... that's the basic plotline to the whole story, so that's not going to happen any time soon. :devil

Cheers Wimpy!

*****

WillowRulez - Yeah, Oz does seem to get portrayed as a villian a bit here ... only to be expected on Willow & Tara fansite, I suppose. :p

Quote:
This is almost a cute moment


Well, he doesn't really act in a manner to make himself feel like a part of the family, does he. Unless you're ... oh, say the Manson family? :p

Cheers!

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Last edited by Darth Pacula on Wed Apr 23, 2008 1:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 19th Jan)
PostPosted: Sun Jan 27, 2008 2:35 pm 
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All disclaimers apply ... but you already knew that, right?

Part 9.

“Hang on a darn minute!” protested Xander. “How come Oz gets to go? I think I'm a better fighter! Er ... no offense, Oz.”

Oz shrugged. “I'm secure in my masculinity. Carry on.”

“Yeah, what's so great about Oz?!” The rest of the Scoobies turned to stare at Dawn, who at least had the decency to look abashed. “I mean he's a great guy and all,” she muttered, ducking her head but proceeding nonetheless. “But what's he gonna do? Play guitar at the demons?”

“Have you buffoons been smoking crack while I've been gone?” Timothy demanded. “Do any of you lot turn into a seven-foot tall killing machine?”

“What!” blurted Willow, appalled.

“Good lord!” added Giles. “Do you mean to say your only reason for recruiting Oz is because of his status as a werewolf?”

“No ...” Timothy sneered, “I just have a deep and abiding appreciation for his sense of sartorial splendor! Of course it's because he's a damn werewolf!”

Oz shook his head, the movement clipped and tense. “I don't do that any more.”

Rolling his eyes, Timothy pointedly glared at Willow. “God help me, it's deja fucking vu! You were saying the same damn thing a couple of years ago!”

“And with good reason!” Willow argued. “Just like Oz has! Though I never tried to eat anyone ... but the point is that even if Oz does get wolfy, it won't be any help to us! Oz doesn't have any control when he's furry.”

“And trust us, it's not like he'll just try to hump your leg or something!” added Xander, gesticulating furiously.

“That, I could deal with,” Oz announced, deadpan. “It would be embarrassing, but dealable.”

“Do you people think I've never dealt with a werewolf before?” Timothy snapped. Rummaging around inside his coat, he withdrew a slender vial worked from some sort of slick-surfaced gray stone, and tossed it to the werewolf in question.

Oz looked at it doubtfully, then looked up, his gaze sweeping from Timothy's impatient form to Willow, a silent question in his eyes.

Once again displaying his total lack of social graces, Timothy groaned aloud, theatrically so. “For Pete's sake, it's not poison! If I wanted to kill you, I'd be a lot less subtle about it, trust me.”

Shrugging apologetically, Willow confirmed her son's statement. “That's probably true.”

Studying the vial once more, Oz shrugged, removed the stopper and swallowed its contents. The Scoobies all watched him with a mixture of expectation and apprehension. None of them expected what actually happened.

Nothing.

After several minutes of absolutely nothing happening, the pressure on Xander became too much for him to bear. “Wow ... this is ... really boring.”

“I think you're losing your touch, Timothy,” taunted Buffy.

Rolling his eyes, Timothy sighed. “They always expect flash and dazzle ...” he drawled as he limped over to Oz. Raising his hands in an apologetic gesture, Timothy punched Oz square in the face.

“What the hell!” bellowed Buffy as Oz reeled backwards, lunging forwards to snag Timothy by the collar and hurled him backwards. She stood over him, fists clenched, face flushed with anger. “I knew it was a mistake to trust you!” she spat.

Timothy lay on his back, looking up at the assembled Scoobies as they fixed him with disapproving glares, looking like a file of forbidding monoliths, standing watch over a human sacrifice. Given his typical reaction to violence, the warlock looked casual, almost nonchalant as he reclined on the floor, though it was hard to tell given the mask that shielded his decayed features.

“You might want to look behind you ...” he quietly suggested.

“Oh yeah, like we're gonna fall for that ...” Buffy's taunt trailed off into silence as an agonized groan and the ripping of cloth sounded behind her. “Damn it,” she muttered, dragging one hand down her face before turning to discover what this new threat might be.

Where Oz had been standing was now a kneeling figure of swelling muscle, fur, teeth and claw. Buffy swore beneath her breath, and Once-Was-Oz rose. And rose. And rose. Twitching canine ears atop a muzzled skull that was a tortured blend of human and wolf brushed against the ceiling. Lips peeled back from a slavering maw, ringed with fangs meant to rip, and tear, and savage tender flesh. Scraps of the t-shirt and shorts he'd been wearing dangled from the werewolf's massive frame, which trembled with barely caged violence. In proof that at least one of the Powers That Be had a twisted sense of humor, the fur atop the werewolf's head remained an electric shade of blue.

“Is it just me?” squeaked Xander in a broken voice. “Or is he kinda ... bigger than usual?”

“Lycanthrope Majora Mars,” Timothy declared as if lecturing within a classroom, rising to his feet. “The werewolf war-form, the very pinnacle of its destructive capability. You see, just as the involuntary change is inherently bound to the lunar cycle, the werewolf's power is likewise lined. With each different celestial alignment ...”

“You freakin' psycho!” hissed Buffy from the corner of her mouth like an angry serpent, not daring to take her eyes away from the threat Once-Was-Oz posed. “Giles! I need the tranq...”

She never got to finish her request, as with a feral howl of primal blood lust, the werewolf charged. Without thinking, Willow hurled herself between Tara and seven feet of pouncing death, even as Buffy leapt forward. Once-Was-Oz swept the airborne Slayer out of the way with a single bat of his clawed paw-hand, and barreled through the Scoobies, scattering them like ten pins as he snatched up the target of his fury, and slammed them against the wall.

“Hey, dogboy,” Timothy greeted the incensed werewolf with a slight nod, seemingly untroubled by the taloned fist crushing his chest. “What's the prob?”

WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!!!” the werewolf bellowed. The voice, though distorted, guttural and deeper by several octaves, was recognizably Oz's.

Willow looked up from where she lay, knocked down by her former boyfriend's charge. “Oz?” she gasped.

That muzzled head half turned to face Willow, then tilted down, as though ashamed to been seen in such a fashion. “It's me,” he acknowledged, his monstrous voice a mixture of shame and amazement that moistened Willow's eyes. Oz's attention turned back to Timothy, and his jaws snapped shut inches away from the warlock's masked face.

“What did you do to me?”

“I changed the rules of the game,” replied Timothy. “I put you in the driving seat. All that power, all that delightful potential for carnage, all of it ... is now at your fingertips.”

“I don't want it!” Oz insisted, his pleading tone incongruous with his current monstrous form.

“Too bad,” snapped Timothy in a voice devoid of understanding or empathy. “You've got it.”

UNDO IT!

“Undo it yourself!” the warlock snarled back, his head lunging forward even as Oz's claw still pinned him to the wall. “Go on, Danny boy!” he taunted. “Change back. Do it. Because, if you can't, if you can't control yourself ... you're useless to me. And I might as well burn all the flesh from your body.”

The unearthly glow of Timothy's artificial eyes brightened, as if a pair of azure spotlights were burning inside his skull. Sparks of electricity leapt from his fingertips, and the air grew heavy and charged with the smell of burnt ozone, the fur of Oz's werewolf form rising to stand on end.

They stared at each other, eye to eye, the undead warlock and ensorcelled werewolf, neither blinking or backing down. In the background, the Scoobies watched breathlessly, bewitched somehow by the battle of wills they were witnessing.

In the end, it was Oz who lowered his gaze first, dropping Timothy and backing off a couple of steps. Dropping into a crouch, Oz's eyes screwed shut and his wolfish face contorted in concentration. Several moments passed in which nothing happened, then, with a muffled gasp of pain, Oz began to change.

Bones shifted beneath skin and flesh turned liquid, fur growing inwards to be replaced in places by hair. It was a grotesque, and intensely person sight, and all but two of those who bore witness to Oz's transformation looked away.

Timothy of course was one of those two; he had seen, and committed much more terrible things in his blood soaked past. The other, unsurprisingly, was Anya, who watched the entire process with an expression of great interest, despite Xander's attempts to make her look away.

Finally, Oz lay huddled where he had fallen, exhausted and naked but for the tattered rags of his destroyed clothes.

“Wow,” remarked Anya, sounding impressed. “Everything really did get bigger when you were a werewolf.”

Which was when they found out that a werewolf, in human form at least, can blush.

**********

Things had only gotten worse from there. With frayed tempers and bad blood on all sides, the meeting had pretty much dissolved into a free-for-all argument between the Scoobies and Timothy that had only ended when Tara lost her temper and forcibly separated them. With Timothy banished to his basement lair to plan their next move, or, as Xander put it, to sulk, the relative lack of sleep from the previous night had begun to take it's toll.

So, once Tara was satisfied that none of the other Scoobies was going to break out the pitchforks and flaming torches, and that Oz wasn't going to wolf out again and accidentally eat someone, she convinced Willow to retire to their bedroom.

Though convince might be too strong a term, given that Willow had agreed before Tara had even finished her suggestion. But for a change, it wasn't physical desire that was fueling Willow's decision to join Tara in their bed.

This time, it was a need for reassurance that drove Willow into Tara's arms.

“Are we doing the right thing, baby?” Willow asked, her body molded against Tara's, her head reclining upon the blonde's chest, seeking solace from the steady rhythm of her beloved's heartbeat. “Trusting Timothy, I mean, not trying to rescue Chloe. That's a given, of course we're going to rescue her, she's our daughter, and she's lost andwe'vegottofindherbecausewe'reherparentsandthat'swhat parentsaresupposedtodo,notthatIhavemuchexperiencewithwhatparentsaresupposedtodobut ...”

“Breathe, sweetie,” Tara ordered, stroking Willow's hair with one hand. “I know what you mean.”

“It's just ....” Willow struggled for the words to express her doubts, her misgivings. “He's so angry, all the time, at everything!”

“I know,” acknowledged Tara, chewing worriedly at her lower lip.

“You remember what he said his reason was, don't you?” Willow continued, lifting herself up so that she could see Tara's face. “For tricking Buffy into killing him?”

Tara nodded. “He didn't think he could be trusted.”

“I know! Worrying much!” Exasperated, Willow returned her head back to its resting place on Tara's chest.

“Do we have any other choice, Willow?” Tara pointed out. “We need him. We are so beyond our field of experience that it's not funny! This is a demon dimension. This is time travel!”

“Oh, don't talk to me about time travel! I mean, he changed the future that produced him, stopped it from happening! Shouldn't he have ceased to exist, or something? But if he ceased to exist, how could the change he caused have ever happened? Every time I think about it, it gives me a headache!”

“Here, sweetie. Let me help.” Tara lifted her lover's head, and pressed a gentle kiss against Willow's forehead, and each of her closed eyelids. Deep in her throat, Willow made a soft, happy noise.

“Mmmm ... Tara-kisses. Best medicine in the world.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Tara whispered. “I think Willow-kisses give them a run for their money.”

Opening her eyes, Willow shook her head. “Nuh-uh. You know I'm right. See? Resolve face.”

“Oh, but I'm sure I could change your mind,” countered Tara with a saucy grin. “And the things I would do to you to change your mind ...”

“Promises, promises ...” Willow mock grumbled, before she gave Tara a quick kiss and resumed her earlier pose.

“Willow, sweetie? The thing of it is ... I just feel we can trust him in this. I can't explain it, but something tells me that Timothy will move heaven and earth to get Chloe back to us.”

There was a long moment of silence, and if Tara hadn't know better, she might have though Willow had fallen asleep. Then, finally, Willow responded, oh so quietly, as if to vocalize her fears would make them reality.

“That's what I'm afraid of ...”

**********

The walls of the corridor they walked down were made of simple concrete, painted that particular shade of institutional gray that always seemed to Tara to inspire both depression and certain type of fatalism. Given the complete lack of windows, or any other way for natural sunlight to penetrate this kingdom of gloom, the only light source were the caged electric lights that sprouted from the ceiling every few yards, like growths of some phosphorescent fungus.

They were four in number; Tara, Willow, Buffy and Timothy. When Timothy had announced his intention to head out on a second 'recruitment drive', Willow had immediately insisted on accompanying him. When no amount of sarcastic insults or inventive, if ultimately empty, threats from Timothy proved sufficient to dissuade her, he'd also been forced to allow Tara as well, as she refused to let Willow out of her sight.

In turn, this had had led to Buffy's joining the party as well, on the grounds that she quite openly didn't trust Timothy as far as Dawn could throw him. By this point, Timothy's protests had seemed half hearted at best, but when the rest of the Scoobies had also begun clamoring that they too were going, the warlock had lost his temper and threated to transmogrify the lot of them into frogs.

The sun had retreated beneath the horizon once more when they had set out, the twilight air cooling rapidly under the influence of a strong ocean breeze. By way of a roundabout series of alleys and back streets, taken to avoid exposing Timothy to too many curious eyes, they had found themselves outside a familiar building.

The rebuilt Sunnydale High School.

No matter how many times Buffy demanded to know why they here, Timothy's only reply was a stubborn silence. They all knew that the warlock was garnering a perverse kind of pleasure from keeping Buffy in the dark, but given Buffy's position as a school councilor, she had felt compelled to try. Timothy had come here for a reason, and Buffy couldn't help but feel that anyone, or anything, that the warlock considered a suitable recruit for his mission to Hyriault wasn't the kind of person you would want at a school.

Willow hadn't visited the school much, beyond occasional visits to Buffy or drop off runs with Dawn, so she took the chance to engage in a bout of reminisce, sharing memories of her own sojourn here with Tara.

The quartet must have presented an interesting sight as they paraded down the deserted hallways, had anyone been there to see them; led by a limping masked figure all in black, followed by a young woman carrying an axe and a suspicious expression, who in turn was followed by a pair of lesbians, who, hand in hand, looked like they were on a guided tour.

Down into the bowels of the school Timothy led them, following a meandering path through the warren of passageways that lurked beneath this edifice of education. At first, the three women followed him without hesitation, no doubt satisfied with the confident way in which Timothy never hesitated when he came to a crossroads.

But after they passed the exact same bank of inexplicable machinery, Willow began to have her suspicions. “Er ... Timothy? You do know where you're going, right?” she asked as they came to the next intersection.

Pausing in the juncture between passageways, Timothy looked back at his mother inscrutably. “Not in the least,” he admitted matter of factly.

“What?!” exploded Buffy. “You mean we've been following you on a wild goose chase this whole time!”

“Not at all. I know he's here, but I don't know his precise location. The background ... noise, for lack of a better word, put out the Hellmouth confused my seekers, but they could track him well enough to tell me that he was here.”

“He? Who are you talking about, Timothy?” Tara asked, placing a calming hand on Buffy's shoulder when she looked fit to strangle their erstwhile guide. “Who could possibly be living down here?”

Timothy's head cocked to one side. “For starters, him.” He pointed over Willow's shoulder, down one of the intersecting corridors.

Whirling around, Willow, Tara and Buffy found a ragged figure staring at them from the boundary of a patch of shadow. Filthy clothes that were little more than rags hung from his pale, lean frame, and haunted eyes regarded them from beneath an unkempt mop of ragged hair. The platinum hair bleach he had once affected had long since worn off.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding ...” gasped Buffy in a tone of disbelief. “Spike?!”

To be continued ....

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 28th Jan)
PostPosted: Sun Jan 27, 2008 6:25 pm 
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13. Big Knowledge Woman
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Man, Paul! First Timothy recruits and upgrades Oz, and now he goes and finds the wacked out and ensouled Spike?? I can't wait to see what or should I say who, he pulls out of his sleeve to help with his plan next.

Oh, I loved the picture you painted of the four of them walking through the school - totally cracked me up.

Please update soon so we can get even closer to EVENTUALLY saving Chloe.

Cheers to you too. Great job again.


Wimpy

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 28th Jan)
PostPosted: Mon Jan 28, 2008 10:40 am 
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8. Vixen
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The Lycanthrope Majora Mars thing is pretty neat. The idea of "Timothy" recruiting a kind of army is cool.
Quote:
“That's what I'm afraid of ...”

Yeah me too. But it's not like he can die all over again, right? So let's have a little faith in him :pinky

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 28th Jan)
PostPosted: Mon Jan 28, 2008 6:07 pm 
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Hi,

Great update. I love Timothy. Threats of transmogrification, taunting werewolves, constant stream of hilarious insults. He's too much! Your description of him and his decaying smelly self continues to amuse and entertain me. The rest of the Scoobies are so much themselves...it feels all homey (yep, even with Timothy on the scene...he kinda feels like my little brother and my crank old grandpa all rolled into one loveable? bundle).

Cheers, Shiraz


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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 28th Jan)
PostPosted: Sat Feb 09, 2008 5:03 am 
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Oh my God, I cannot believe there is a sequel. I must have truly died and gone to heaven. I just recently read your other story and I was floored. I didn't have a chance to leave feedback, so I'll just put it here. Better late than never, right? Timothy Rosenberg/Nameless is personally my favorite original character in any fandom of all time.

I LOVE him and his interactions with the Scoobies; him making Buffy feel dumb and then her attacking him leaves warm feelings in my heart. His caring for his mothers while under the illusion of being their enemy is both bittersweet and completely noble in my mind. Anya's being impressed by him then remembering he broke her arm and being mad at him is hilarious!

I was heartbroken to see that Timothy died, but now he's back! This story is so intriuging. I am looking forward to seeing Spike's and Oz's involvement in rescuing Chloe. I wonder who Timothy will allow to go with him in the end. Can't wait for for your next update and thank you!!

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 28th Jan)
PostPosted: Mon Apr 07, 2008 1:32 pm 
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please update luv ur story


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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 28th Jan)
PostPosted: Wed Apr 23, 2008 1:12 pm 
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Okay, I'm short on time before I have to go to work, so I'll post replies later. For now, here's a long overdue update.

All disclaimers apply.

Part 10.

“You. You're not supposed to be here,” Spike babbled, his head shaking spasmodically from side to side. Squeezing his eyes shut, the vampire pounded at his temples as if he could hammer the image of the intruders clean out of his mind. “Not here, not here, not here!” he insisted in a sing-song voice.

“He's gone completely batty ...” gasped Willow.

Tara inched forward, wary of getting too close to Spike in this distraught, nonsensical state. “Spike?” she called cautiously. “Are you okay? What happened to you?”

“William the Bloody,” intoned Timothy, as if he were once again delivering a college lecture. “Scourge of Europe, killer of no less than two Slayers .... has gone and got himself a soul.”

Willow's jaw dropped. Tara's eyes widened, and she clapped a hand over her mouth in shock. Buffy's reaction, however was more visceral in nature, not to mention quite obscene, and Timothy snickered in malicious delight.

It took Willow several tries before she could properly frame her thoughts verbally. “What ... why ... what the frilly heck could have possessed him to do that! He was always so disparaging about Angel.”

“Oh, I don't know ...” Timothy drawled, shrugging in a display of ignorance that none of the Scoobies trusted for a minute. That distrust was soon proved justified. “Perhaps it had something to do with guilt over attempting to rape Buffy ...”

There was a moment of stunned silence, before Willow exploded. “What!”

Buffy's face twisted, stricken, and she pivoted sharply on the spot. Her punch caught Timothy unawares, and threw him backwards into a wall. Lurching upright, spitting epithets, the warlock glared at his attacker.

“What the hell was that for?” he snarled. “It's not like I tried to rape you!”

“Stop saying that!” Buffy snapped back.

“He ... you ... what ...” Willow was babbling in the background, but neither Buffy nor Timothy was paying attention.

“Buffy, why didn't you tell us?” Tara quietly asked.

“Because that would require the Grand Dame of Punching People in the Face for Things They Didn't Do to admit that she could ever possibly be a victim!” growled Timothy.

“Hey! Don't you dare think you know me!” Buffy railed. “You don't know me! You don't know the first thing about me!”

“Oh yeah, because you're sooooo deep,” the warlock mocked. “You're a riddle wrapped in an enigma wearing a short skirt!”

Buffy cocked her fist again, and Timothy spread his arms wide, as if welcoming the attack. The twitching of his talons made a lie of that welcome. “Just try it, I dare you ...”

“Spike ... Spike tried to ... and you didn't tell any of us?” Willow visibly appeared incapable of deciding what to be madder about. But then, lips firming and eyes narrowing, she made her choice. “I'll kill him!”

“No, you won't,” ordered Timothy, in a tone that would brook no argument.

But, Willow being Willow, she did it anyway, her mouth agape in astonishment. “You can't possibly condone what he did!” she spluttered angrily.

“What he attempted to do,” corrected Timothy. Willow looked like she was about to explode at this, but the warlock cut her off before she could launch into her tirade. “And I neither condone, nor forgive it. But we need him.”

“Need him?!” Buffy screeched, flinging her arms in the air. “What the hell could we possibly need him for!”

“Because Spike is a killer, pure and simple! Because Spike is ...”

“Gone,” interrupted Tara.

Pausing mid sentence, Timothy rounded on Tara in a fury, ready and willing to lash out with a string of viperous invective. But then he followed his mother's gaze, and found a distinct lack of anything Spike-shaped where the vampire had used to be.

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” he spat. “The bastard's done a runner ...”

**********

Several long minutes of arguing later found them tramping down a series of corridors, all of which looked the same to Tara. But Timothy seemed even more confident of their path than he had before, so the Scoobies followed with a minimum of grumbling.

They were aligned in single file, with Timothy on point, and Buffy taking up the rear. From a strategic point of view, that formation placed their strongest fighters where they would be the most use if they happened to be attacked. But to Tara's mind, the best thing about it was that it kept some distance between the two of them. The revelation of Buffy's secret had left her on edge, and Timothy's personality wasn't particularly soothing at the best of times. And this wasn't the best of times by any measure.

Tara followed directly behind her son. Which is still a bizarre thought, she found herself thinking. Glancing over her shoulder, she found Willow lagging behind, trying to engage Buffy in conversation.

Even though her lover hadn't admitted it, Tara knew that Willow was feeling betrayed that Buffy hadn't told her of Spike's attack, a feeling not aided when Buffy had revealed that Xander had known about it. Tara also knew that Willow herself was feeling guilty about that feeling of betrayal, given what Buffy had gone through. So, the redhead found herself bouncing between emotions, and overcompensating for the resultant imbalance.

For a moment, just a moment, before the burden of anxiety, grief and anger that had been weighing on her since Chloe's abduction resumed its place on her shoulders, Tara felt her lips twitch in a quirky smile. The woman she loved was nothing if not complicated.

Clearing her throat, Tara returned to the business at hand. “Err ... Timothy?”

He grunted in reply.

“I don't mean to ... cast aspersions on your abilities or anything, but ...”

“But you want to know if I know were I'm going this time, or if we're wandering in circles again?”

“Umm ... yes?”

“I do.”

Tara waited expectantly for Timothy to expand on that claim, but after several minutes of stubborn silence, it became apparent that that she was hoping in vain. If she wanted details, she was going to have to ask for them.

“Can I ask ... how?” she meekly requested. “I didn't see you cast any kind of spell, so ...”

Her answer took the form of a single grunted word. “Dust.”

“Huh?”

“Eyes down, Mother.”

“What?” After a moment's confusion, Tara figured out that he was telling her to look down. When she did, it was immediately apparent what he was taking about; footprints in the dust that was liberally coating the floor.

“You of all people should know that you don't need arcane trickery for everything ...” Timothy teased.

**********

The trail led them still further into the rabbit warren of passages that existed under the rebuilt Sunnydale High School. The deeper they went, the more ramshackle the passages became, fresh clean paint giving way to naked concrete spotted with mold colonies. Their path eventually led them through a hole that had been hammered through a cinder block wall into a whole new and much older tunnel system.

These new passages were a mishmash of steam tunnels, sewer tunnels and sometimes appeared to have been somehow burrowed out of solid rock and soil. Finally, after countless twists and turns that left Tara utterly bamboozled as to how to get out, their path led into a small grotto from which there were no other exits.

There was also no sign of Spike, just a random scattering of incongruous debris, including a sagging couch and a broken TV.

“Hah!” Buffy crowed, all too happy to score a point against her one-time nemesis. “Behold the awesome prowess of the mighty tracker!”

Willow giggled despite herself, as Timothy wheeled around with the icy demeanor of the mortally offended and stalked over to his taunter.

“Gimme that,” he snarled, tearing Buffy's axe from her grip and hurling it at the abandoned couch. The weapon tore through the inoffensive item of furniture like a hot knife through butter, and a heated oath tore the air.

“Bleedin' 'ell!” bellowed Spike as he scrambled out from behind his violated cover. “Are you out of your bloody gourd?!” The vampire held up one arm in protest, gesturing to a slender line of crimson on his pallid flesh. “You nearly had my damn arm off!”

Tara blinked. “Is it just me ... or are you suddenly a whole lot less crazy?”

Freezing mid-tirade, Spike's face locked into the expression of the perennial schoolboy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Ah ... oh bollocks.” His shoulders slumped in defeat.

“That could have something to do with the fact that he was faking it,” Timothy suggested, an indecent amount of malicious glee apparent in his voice. The daggers in the gaze that Spike shot in Timothy's direction made it clear that the vampire didn't miss the pleasure that Timothy was taking in his discomfort. Timothy's talent for making first impressions strikes again, thought Tara with a shake of her head.

“You were faking being crazy?!” blurted Willow. She flung her hands in the air. “Are you lying about having a soul, too?!”

Spike's jaw dropped. “How the bloody hell do you know about that?” he demanded. Willow jerked her finger in Timothy's direction.

Rounding on Timothy with a snarl, Spike's features shifted into his vampiric 'game-face'. “I don't know who you are mate, but I know I don't like you. I know I don't like people messing in my business.”

“Oooohh!” Timothy feigned a shudder of fear. “Bumpy face! Scary!” Reaching up, he snatched his Renai mask away, revealing his ravaged features. “Mine's scarier.”

Shrugging, Spike lazily gave Timothy the visual once over. “Think you oughta sue your plastic surgeon, mate.” Transferring his gaze to Buffy, Spike opened his mouth to speak again, but faltered without saying a word. Instead, he directed his query to Tara. “Who's the zombie, Glinda?”

“I'm not a zombie,” Timothy grumbled sullenly, as he refitted his mask.

“Walks like a duck, talks like a duck ...” Spike shot back. “So what gives, love? What are you lot doin' hanging around with the likes of this tosser?”

Tara scuffed her feet on the ground, ducking her head slightly. “Umm ... well ... he's our son. Willow's and mine.”

“And doesn't she just sound sooo enthusiastic about admitting that,” drawled Timothy.

Spike's gaze flicked between Tara, Willow and Timothy, eyes narrowed, expression measuring. “This is some sorta magical load of bollocks, innit?”

Tara gave a weak chuckle. “You might say that ... Timothy ...”

“Who would be me,” interrupted Timothy, giving a sarcastic little wave.

“... is from the future,” Tara continued. “It's all kind of complicated.”

“When is it ever not, pet?” Spike pointed out philosophically.

“Look, can we get on with this?” snapped Buffy, whose eyes were pointedly staying away from Spike. Her body language was screaming with discomfort. “Just ask him or whatever already, will you?”

Eyes narrowing, Spike frowned suspiciously. “Ask me? Ask me what?” He crossed his arms defiantly. “What am I supposed to have done now, huh?”

“Besides get in touch with your inner hobo, and eat a few hundred or so rats?” Timothy mused aloud. “We're not interested in what you've done. We're interested in what you're going to do.”

Spike scowled, subconsciously slipping into a Peter Pan-esque pose, hands on his hips. “Why do you mystical hoo-doo types always talk in circles? Just come out and say it plain, leprosy lad.”

“If that's the way you want it .... we want you to join us in storming a demon dimension on a little rescue op.”

“A demon dimension?” Spike repeated incredulously. “You wanna kick in the doors of a demon dimension?” His pale, angular face split in a smirk. “And you wanna recruit the Big Bad to the heavy lifting, right?”

Head tilting to one side, Timothy regarded the preening vampire with twinkling eyes. “Well, I was thinking more along the lines of killing people, but whatever floats your boat.”

“Who are we supposed to be rescuing?” asked Spike. His expression perked up. “It's not the whelp, is it? 'Cause if it is ...”

Timothy jerked a thumb in both Willow and Tara's directions. “It's their daughter.”

“Their ... how long have I been down here! You've got sprogs popping up left, right and center!”

“Long enough to cultivate an considerable aura of eau-du-rodent. Now answer the damn question; are you in or not?”

Spike looked down, and then back up from under shadowed brows. “Demon dimension, huh?”

“Yep,” Timothy casually replied, as if the feat he proposed was no big deal.

“Won't be easy,” continued Spike.

“Nope.”

“Bound to be lotsa violence, right?”

“Oh, my word, yes,” answered Timothy with an indecent amount of glee. “Carnage galore, no doubt.”

Lips twisting in a smug smirk, Spike shrugged. “What the hell ... I think I've room in my social calendar. I'm in.”

To be continued ...

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 24th Apr)
PostPosted: Wed Apr 23, 2008 1:24 pm 
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dibsies!

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 24th Apr)
PostPosted: Thu Apr 24, 2008 1:32 pm 
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Oh Yay! An Update! I've missed this story. Each update, your Timothy never fails to crack me up with his oh-so-warped sense of humor.

So now they've got a not-so-crazy Spike on their side. Makes it even more interesting.

Please update soon. You've really left us and Chloe hanging way too long. ;-)


Wimpy

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 24th Apr)
PostPosted: Mon Apr 28, 2008 1:05 am 
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Finally! An update! I have been waiting for this.
I always thought that it was weird that Willow didnt know about the attempted rape or seemed not to on the show.
You've got Spike down pat. Timothy and him "arguing" was too funny :smash

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 24th Apr)
PostPosted: Mon Apr 28, 2008 8:03 am 
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Another hilarious update! You write each character so well - I can clearly picture them and hear them. It's awesome :) And it's not just the way they talk and their non-verbal communication (which is excellent!) it's the way they interact as a group as well. You have Tara speaking up to ask and answer hard questions in her quiet, direct and gentle manner. Willow blurting nonsensical half sentences in frustration. Buffy is all punch now and ask questions later :) And then there's dear sweet leprosy lad

Can't wait for the next chapter...

Shiraz


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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 24th Apr)
PostPosted: Tue May 06, 2008 6:51 pm 
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Hey Paul,

Great updates! As usual, you're writing style is diabolical, humorous, and very much leaving the reader waiting for more.

So off to the demon dimension with us!

We few. We happy few. We band of buggard.


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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 24th Apr)
PostPosted: Mon Jun 09, 2008 10:42 pm 
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any plans of an update?


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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 24th Apr)
PostPosted: Sun Jul 27, 2008 11:53 pm 
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G'day Kittens!

-----

wimpy0729 -

Quote:
First Timothy recruits and upgrades Oz, and now he goes and finds the wacked out and ensouled Spike?? I can't wait to see what or should I say who, he pulls out of his sleeve to help with his plan next.


Well, as you might have noticed, Spike isn't quite as wacked out as he first appeared to be. As for who's next, that's coming up after these messages from our sponsors!

Cheers!

-----

WillowRulez -

Quote:
The idea of "Timothy" recruiting a kind of army is cool.


Well, it's really more of a 'Dirty Dozen' situation ... so long as you can't count. :p

-----

shiraz -

Quote:
Great update. I love Timothy.


I'm somewhat fond of the git myself, but I created him so that's to be expected. :d

Quote:
The rest of the Scoobies are so much themselves...it feels all homey (yep, even with Timothy on the scene...he kinda feels like my little brother and my crank old grandpa all rolled into one loveable? bundle).


Oh good! Let's face it, the interactions between the Scoobies were always one of the best parts of the show. But I gotta say ... mutant mixture of younger sibling and old crank? Yikes! That's a scary combination! :p

Cheers!

-----

Wills - G'day, Wills, and welcome! :wave

Quote:
Oh my God, I cannot believe there is a sequel. I must have truly died and gone to heaven.


Well, you'd better believe it ... because the alternative is that we're all sharing a trippy mass halucination, which is a bit Twilight Zone for my liking. And wouldn't it be better to stay alive and go to heaven? :p

Quote:
Timothy Rosenberg/Nameless is personally my favorite original character in any fandom of all time.


:blush Thanks mate. He did win me second place in an online competition a while back ...

Quote:
Can't wait for for your next update and thank you!!


No, thank you!

Cheers!

-----

cammy

Quote:
please update luv ur story


Well ... if you insist. :p

-----

Zooeys_Bridge -

Quote:
dibsies!


Err ... yes? :p

-----

wimpy0729 -

:wave Hiya, Wimpy!

Quote:
Please update soon. You've really left us and Chloe hanging way too long.


I know, I know! I just don't seem to have as much free time as I once did. Stupid reality! :happy :p

-----

WillowRulez -

Quote:
I always thought that it was weird that Willow didnt know about the attempted rape or seemed not to on the show.


Well, if she had I would have expected some more flying pencil action, wouldn't you? Which would have made it hard to keep Spike on the payroll.

-----

shiraz -

Thanks mate!

Quote:
Can't wait for the next chapter...


You can't? Crap! Better start writing then! :p

-----

Roger Doger - G'day Roger! Thanks, but we're not off to the demon dimension just yet. But it's not too far off now ... assuming my muse doesn't piss off again. :p

-----

cammy -

Quote:
any plans of an update?


Always! Alas, reality isn't always so co-operative ...

-----

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 24th Apr)
PostPosted: Sun Jul 27, 2008 11:55 pm 
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To quote Yoda "Apply, all disclaimers do."

Part 11.

I can still hear them upstairs, even from within the basement, 'welcoming' Spike back to the fold. When we'd returned with him, the reactions from the Scoobies varied; some where glad to see him ... most weren't. And what good will had been there hadn't lasted beyond Willow blurting out about his attack on Buffy.

Which had made Buffy angry at Willow.

And Willow angry at Xander, when he'd let it slip that he had known it.

And everybody was angry at Spike.

It was almost refreshing for someone other than me to be the target of their ire. Not to mention that it had made it easy for me to slip away without notice ... but only after I decided no-one was actually going to stake the vampire. Or eat him ... you never knew with Oz in the mix.

They'd notice my absence sooner or later, and I fully expected to interrogated as to what I'd been doing. I'd just make something up. It won't even need to be that good a lie, because no matter what I tell them, they won't believe it. Such is the price you pay for being a manipulative bastard.

Just so long as they don't know the truth. Just so as they don't know that I'm losing my mind.

They look at me, but they don't see. They don't see beyond the obvious, beyond the smell and sight of my decayed body. They think I'm the same person they knew before, but I'm not. I'm not the man, or the monster, that I was. How could I be?

In our prior dealings, the Scoobies have seen me take wound after wound with casual disdain. Buffy herself cut off my hand. Stabbed, shot, bludgeoned, burned ... they saw me come back time after time. So is it any surprise that they think this is just the same old same old?

But it's not.

I was dead, dead as a doornail ... doorknob, bed knob, broomstick ... what? Where am I ...

It happened again. My mind is ... slipping. Which isn't surprising, when you consider that my brain is probably little more than soup, if it hasn't rotted away completely while I was in my grave. The spell that has bound me in this living nightmare was never intended to be used with a cadaver in such an advanced state of decomposition.

These ... flashes of incoherence ... are occurring with greater and greater frequency. So far, I don't think any of the Scoobies have noticed. All they see is mask I try to show them. But sooner or later ... they'll notice. And then ... I don't know what will happen.

If you asked any of the Scoobies to describe me, my personality, I have no doubt that some of the following words might get tossed around; sarcastic, bitter, angry. Normally, I wouldn't argue. Being blind to my own flaws isn't one of my many character defects. But everything they've seen since my reanimation has been artifice. I've been pretending, playing a role.

Because the only thing I feel is pain.

Constant.

Unceasing.

Agony.

I am not a vampire. Nor I am a zombie. What I am is a living soul, black and twisted thing though it may be, that is trapped in a rotting corpse.

Every movement sends shards of liquid fire running down my nerves. I don't need to breath, but I do need air in my lungs to speak, and every breath feels as if have acid in my lungs. Even something as simple as looking from one side to the other hurts as if someone were driving heated nails into my eye sockets.

I don't know if it's the pain affecting my perceptions, or if it's just the fact that the rancid sponge that is my brain is incapable of sustaining long term higher brain functions. Or maybe I'm just going insane because karma's a bitch.

It makes little difference. The end result is the same. I'm still leading my mothers into a demon dimension, where we will likely all die. If I have one of my ... episodes ... during a combat situation, it won't be pretty, and it may well be fatal.

So why am I doing this? Why am I taking them to Hyriault, when I know that it will likely be the end of us all? After all I did to keep them safe, why am I leading them into the lion's den? Why did I surrender to their demands to travel with me? And why did I give way so easily? I should have turned them down flat. Before my death, I would have, and there wouldn't have been anything they could have done to change my mind.

And yet ... I caved in so easily to their demands. Why? That's the question that haunts me.

Do I want to prove myself to them? Is this some sort of half-assed attempt to claim a redemption that can never be mine? Or is this something else? Are my motives darker, less honorable?

Do I want them to see the crucible I was forged in? Do I want to open their eyes to the extent of my suffering, the depths of my depravity? Do I want to them to taste my pain?

Do I go to Hyriault seeking, as they do, to save their daughter? This cuckoo, this copy, this child that-is-but-is-not me? Or do I want them to find her, to stand on the cusp of rescuing their precious child, the one they actually want ... only to watch me murder her?

I wish I knew.

A voice speaks behind me, and I flinch, nearly falling out of my chair. I hadn't even heard them enter the basement, or walk down the stairs, a mistake I never would have made when I was alive. Worse still, I have no idea what has been said.

The words were, to my malfunctioning senses at least, an indecipherable morass of sound, the individual words smeared together. I couldn't even figure out who it was that had spoken, not even if they were male or female. Turning to face the speaker didn't help either, for my eyes weren't being any more reliable than my ears; their features were distorted and twisted, liquefied flesh sloughing away from their skull like melting wax.

They spoke again, and this time the resulting noise was the bastard child of a squeaking door, and a bleating goat. Is it my imagination, or is there a thread of impatience in their voice now? Panicking, I do the first thing that comes to mind.

“Go screw yourself,” I snarl, flipping them off, and teleporting myself away.

**********

Spike blinked, lowering the plate of leftovers he'd been offering. “Guess that's a no to dinner then.”

**********

It's dark and narrow where I re-materialize; in the outside world, it would be considered an alcove rather than a proper room. Three walls are of plain concrete or cinder blocks, I can't tell in the gloom. The remaining wall is made of bars, and allows the only means of illumination, in the form of a dimmed florescent further down the corridor outside.

Despite the close quarters, someone had managed to squeeze in a minimum of furniture, a utilitarian bunk bed, and a toilet of stainless steel. Both were bolted to the floor. In all, it gave off a distinctly institutional feel, and a wave of negative emotions bombarded me from every direction.

Still, on the plus side I wasn't hallucinating anymore. Perhaps something to do with the searing kiss of magic in my blood, fresh from the teleportation spell? Could this be my saving grace? My current existence was only possible through magic, so it was theoretically possible that magic use itself could momentarily strengthen the connection between my spirit and my corpse. A stop-gap measure at best, but I'd take what I could get.

At which point the universe decided to give me the wall, at high velocity. Then I was too busy getting punched repeatedly in the head to worry about theories.

**********

It felt good to finally cut loose. For so long, she'd had to hold back, reign back the savage instincts that had helped to land her here in the first place. She didn't lay blame though; her circumstances were her own fault, and no-one else's. She wasn't going to try and duck out of that, not that she hadn't tried. Oh no, there had been far too many witnesses for her to even try and claim that.

Regardless, it felt deeply satisfying to punch someone without pulling the blow. This wasn't another inmate with a grudge, or some fish trying to make a rep for herself. Whoever this was, and to be honest she didn't really care, they didn't belong here. No-one who belonged here just popped in out of thin air.

Then there was the get-up; definitely not prison issue attire. And the smell. There'd been some sort of attempt to mask it, but she recognized the stench of death when she smelled it. The intruder didn't give her that little tickle in the back of her skull that vampires did, but there were plenty of other varieties of undead out there.

Either way, they were fair game. Hence the cutting loose.

She'd rolled off the top bunk as the intruder came close, and body checked them into the wall, hard. Taking advantage of the surprise, she closed fast, unleashing rapid punches to the head and kidneys, then mixing it up with a couple of knee strikes to the midsection.

Whoever her new cell mate was though, he could take a punch. The element of surprise didn't hold beyond those first few seconds, and then he was fighting back. Planting one foot on the wall, he shoved them both backwards, until her shoulder blades slammed into the edge of her bed. His head jerked backwards, but she managed to turn her own head fast enough to take the blow against her cheek rather letting it break her nose.

Jumping up on his back, she wrapped one arm around his neck in a choke hold, and pistoned her other elbow down on her opponents collarbone. Something within cracked, the sound shockingly loud.

Ignoring the wound, he spun around and slammed backwards into the opposite wall, driving the air from her lungs. “I don't need to breathe, you little idiot!” he sneered, speaking for the first time in a vile, chilling rasp. She didn't recognize the voice, but plenty of people she didn't know had made plays for her in the past. Part and parcel of her 'heritage', she supposed.

“Maybe so,” she grunted, slamming another punch into his skull, “But you do to speak, so that's a plus.”

Her cell mate picked that moment to awaken, and after a moment of shocked silence, she screamed and pressed herself against the cold wall, trying to stay as far from the battling duo as possible.

“Stay back!” ordered the fighting woman, trying to haul her opponent backwards. In reply, he lashed out with a kick that caught the other prisoner square in the side of the head, and knocked her out clean.

“Better yet, stay unconscious!” he snarled.

Slamming her back into the wall again, he reached back with both hands over his shoulders and caught her by the scruff of the neck. Leaning forward, he hauled her off his back and hurled her into the bars of her cell.

She was still picking herself up, shaking her head, when he spoke again.

“I'm not your enemy, you pig-headed imbecile!”

“Yeah, the insults really sell that line of bullshit ...” she shot back as she lurched to her feet and charged again. With a roar of animalistic fury, he met her charge with one of his own, and they collided like a pair of dueling rhinos.

**********

“What do you mean, he disappeared!” Willow demanded, the color high in her cheeks. She, and the other Scoobies were arranged in a semi-circle in the living room.

“What do you think I mean, Red,” retorted Spike, crossing his arms as Willow glared accusingly at him. “He disappeared ... I thought it was pretty self-explanatory.”

“Where'd he go?” barked Buffy.

Spike narrowed his eyes. “Oh wait, let me check the detailed itinerary he left me ... oh no, wait, that's right! He just gave me the finger and told me to go screw myself.”

“Well ... that sounds like him,” Xander allowed. “No offense, Wills, but your bouncing baby boy is a bit of a jerk.”

“More than a bit,” muttered Dawn sullenly.

“Dawn!” blurted Buffy, appalled.

“What? We're all thinking it!”

Giles harrumphed disapprovingly. “But we all know that it's considered rude to voice such an opinion in public.” He glanced sideways at Anya. “Well ... most of us, anyway,” he amended with a mutter.

“That was a dig at me, wasn't it?” complained Anya. “Xander, make the senior citizen stop digging me!”

With a pop of displaced air, a pair of struggling bodies burst into existence, sending the Scoobies lurching backwards in shock. There was a flurry of movement, the sound of fists pounding into flesh, and then one body was flipped wholesale and dumped onto a polished wooden coffee table, which splintered beneath the weight.

Buffy found herself looking down at a familiar face amidst the rubble, a little the worse for wear, but she could never forget those pouting lips, those dark eyes, that raven hair.

“Faith?!?”

“B?”

To be continued ...

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 28th Jul)
PostPosted: Mon Jul 28, 2008 1:03 am 
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Yay for great update-y goodness... yay for appearance of Faith...

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 28th Jul)
PostPosted: Mon Jul 28, 2008 9:02 am 
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FAITH!!! I love faith...she is soo....faith! :pinky :pinky
I like this fic more and more...
and I don't think he is so evil...


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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 28th Jul)
PostPosted: Tue Jul 29, 2008 3:32 pm 
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luv ur story


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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 28th Jul)
PostPosted: Wed Jul 30, 2008 4:06 pm 
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Ah, looks like the whole gang's finally in the mix. Good to see Faith still knows how to fight. I take it their chances of coming back from hell just got a little bit better.


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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 28th Jul)
PostPosted: Wed Jul 30, 2008 5:14 pm 
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Ooh Ooh, an update, and the addition of Faith. How cool is that? Very cool in my opinion. What an army this is gonna be.

But man, poor old wisecracking, moldy, decaying, cottage-cheese brained Timothy. That poor guy sure has been through the ringer again and again. This is an interesting twist now that not only is his body really falling apart, but his mind is as well. Not a good thing, especially since they're getting ready to go up against the bad guys soon.

And don't worry about the delay. I know how RL can be. But thanks for taking the time to get back to this story.


Take care,
Wimpy

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 28th Jul)
PostPosted: Mon Aug 04, 2008 10:40 pm 
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ayyyy....
you have a definite skill when it comes to writing epics. their problem isn't even the kidnapping of the daughter... it's some grand evil entity(s) who keep messing with their lives... but in the meantime, they do got to deal with the kidnapping... and Timothy, dearest son...
Lovin' it :)


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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 28th Jul)
PostPosted: Thu May 21, 2009 6:15 pm 
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any chance of an update?


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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 28th Jul)
PostPosted: Sat May 23, 2009 6:25 pm 
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G'day Kittens.

Well, life sure can be a bitch .... but no-one wants to here me bitch about my problems. Suffice it to say that I'm trying to get back into the writing groove.

-----

Zampsa1975 -

Quote:
Yay for great update-y goodness... yay for appearance of Faith...


But boo for taking so long to post the next part. :P

-----

xenalovesgabby -

Well, who else would Faith be but Faith? Tru? :P

Cheers!

-----

cammy -

Thank you kindly, mon ami.

-----

Roger Doger -

Quote:
Ah, looks like the whole gang's finally in the mix.


Let's just hope that mean author doesn't turn on the electric beater, shall we? :D

Of course Faith knows how to fight! She's been in prison! And what are prison movies for except to show how doing time in the big house makes you dead 'ard! :p

-----

wimpy0729 -

Less of an army than an elite suicide squad ... kinda like the dirty dozen, but with more boobs. And hopefully, less suicide.

Ahh RL. Yes, that's been a bit shit lately. But hopefully I can get back into the habit of writing.

You take care too!

-----

synthwrr -

Ta mate.

Yes, the epic. There's just something about me that never wants a story to end. Even if it really should do. :p

Ye ol' evil entities are really behind the scenes in this story. They won't have a large part until the third part of the trilogy I sorta have planned out.

-----

cammy -

Yes ... keep scrolling!

-----

Cheers,
Paul.

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 28th Jul)
PostPosted: Sat May 23, 2009 6:29 pm 
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10. Troll Hammer
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As always, all disclaimers apply.


Part 12.

“Gimme a sec, will ya B?” Faith requested as she looked up into her fellow Slayer's startled face. She didn't wait for a response. Instead, she lashed out with one foot, catching Timothy under the jaw as he crouched over her like a slavering vulture. The blow was delivered full force, more than sufficient to brake an ordinary humans neck.

In Timothy's case, it knocked him clean off his feet, and sent him flying backwards. Drawing her knees up against her chest, Faith flipped herself back onto her feet and charged in for the kill. And found herself running head on into a lightning bolt.

It sent her hurtling into a wall, smoldering and twitching as random sparks of electricity wreathed her body, nearly taking Buffy out in the process. Timothy awkwardly hauled himself up, his body stiff and jerky with fury, a coruscating aura of energy still flickering around one hand.

He glared at each of the Scoobies in turn, a kind of madness burning even in the azure crystals that had replaced both eyes. “You deal with that,” he spat, stabbing a bone talon in Faith's direction. “Before I kill her myself ...” That directive delivered, he lurched from the room.

The Scoobies were left in shell-shocked silence, until Xander mournfully piped up. “I just made that coffee table.”

Dawn patted him on the back in consolation. “I'm sure it's gone to a better place.”

**********

“What on earth was he thinking about?!” demanded Buffy as she paced back and forth at the foot of the bed. She jerked to a halt, and flung her hand in the direction of Faith, who was lying unconscious on the bed in Willow and Tara's spare room.

“I mean, come on! Faith?” Buffy continued.

“What's your point, Buffy?” Tara asked. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, checking Faith for any injuries.

“What's my point?” Buffy repeated incredulously. “What's my point!”

“Repeating the question isn't quite the same as answering it, Buffy,” Tara pointed out with a wry smile.

“The point is that she's Faith!” Buffy continued, her face obstinate. “And she's a murderer! Look! She's still in her prison uniform.” A thought abruptly blossomed in Buffy's head, and she clapped one hand over her mouth. “We're harboring an escaped criminal!”

“She does have a point, baby,” said Willow. “What are we going to do if the FBI kicks down the front door? Blame the prison break on our emotionally unstable, undead son? If we're lucky, we might get adjoining rooms at the funny farm.”

“That won't be a problem.”

Willow, Tara and Buffy spun around. None of them had heard the door open. Indeed, it hadn't, and yet Timothy was standing in the far corner. Buffy snorted. “Showoff.”

“What do you mean, that won't be a problem?” demanded Willow. “What did you do?”

“I blew up the entire prison,” Timothy grunted. “The authorities think she's dead.”

All three womens jaws dropped, their expressions a matching shade of appalled disbelief.

“Timothy ... you didn't ...” Tara gasped.

Cold, unblinking, artificial eyes glared balefully at them for several long moments before Timothy replied. “You're right, I didn't. It would be a little unsubtle, don't you think?”

“I wouldn't have put it past you,” snapped Buffy bitterly.

“I dare say there's very little that you would, as you say, put past me.” There was a ghost of a smile in Timothy's voice.

“So what did you do, if you didn't get all explode-y?” inquired Willow.

“Fiddled a few memories, conjured up some paperwork that previously didn't exist. There's now a false trail that says Faith Lehane has been transferred to another, highly classified federal penitentiary. The kind of deep, dark, uninviting hole that tends to discourage idle inquires.”

“Lehane?” Willow exclaimed. “That's Faith's surname? I always thought it was something like Slutty McSexbomb.”

“I'm looking into legally changing my name to that, but the the only lawyers on the inside were the ones who got caught. Ain't exactly a glowing testimony to their skills.”

For the second time in a handful of minutes, Willow, Tara and Buffy found themselves spinning around at the sound of an unexpected voice. This time it was Faith, who was inching upright from her bed, and Willow turned beet-red from embarrassment as their faces met.

“Don't sweat it, Red. I've been called plenty worse.”

Tara gave her partner a sympathetic pat on the back before turning her attention to Faith. “Are you ok, Faith?”

“I'll be fine, Blondie,” Faith assured Tara, before a grim smile curved her lips as she started forwards aggressively. “Right after I wrap a little something up ...”

Timothy blew her a mocking kiss, but Willow stepped between them, flailing both hands. “Oh no you two don't!” she snapped. “One room in my house demolished is quite enough, thank you very much!” She glared at Buffy, who was now reclining nonchalantly against a dresser. “Why aren't you doing anything?!”

Crooking an eyebrow, Buffy shrugged. “Hey, if they want to smack the stuffing out of each other, who am I to interfere? I kind of want to give both of them a kicking myself.”

Faith came to a reluctant halt, and looked in Buffy's direction. “What, you actually found a monster you didn't want to get in your pants? Isn't he room temperature enough for you?”

Jaw tightening, Buffy jerked forwards, fists clenched. Meanwhile, Timothy gave a mock shudder. “Excuse me,” me muttered, “I need to go projectile vomit out the nearest window.”

“What's that supposed to mean!” snapped Buffy indignantly as Faith crowed with laughter.

“Maybe Captain Stinky here isn't so bad!”

“Can we please stop fighting amongst each other for a change?” Tara demanded, her cheeks flushed with anger. “Remember why we're all here!”

Buffy subsided with a guilty expression, bobbing her head in contrition, but Faith just looked confused and irritated. “Hey, I don't know why I'm here! Ya know, other than the whole kidnapping angle.”

“That was a prison break, thank you very much,” drawled Timothy. “A certain someone didn't give me a chance to explain.”

“Timothy!” exploded Willow. “Stop needling everyone for once! Just ... just ... act like someone other than yourself for a change!”

A shocked silence descended upon the room, and Willow stood frozen, dreading the anticipated explosion of fury, as Timothy stared unblinkingly at her. Then he gave an abrupt bow, the movement a study in stilted formality, and the moment passed.

“Okaaay ... someone wanna gimme the 411 here?” Faith asked cautiously.

“Faith, we need your help,” said Tara.

“With what ....?”

Buffy took it upon herself to answer. “With rescuing their kidnapped daughter from a demon dimension.”

“Their ....” Faith indicated Willow and Tara, “daughter? So who's the reject from a horror movie?”

“That is Timothy .... Willow and Tara's son,” Buffy explained with a scowl.

“Their son .... okaaaay. So then, how long have you all been shooting smack?”

**********

“Will sweetie?” Tara remarked as she diligently dug her thumbs into Willow's shoulders, “You're so tense that I think your knots have their own knots. Relax; Faith agreed to help, remember?”

The redhead's reply was an unintelligible mumble, spoken as it was into her pillow, so Tara leaned down and spoke into her lover's ear in a breathy, teasing tone. “I usually have to be doing something a lot naughtier for you to start biting your pillow, sweetie.”

Feeling Willow start to lift her upper body, Tara shifted her position from straddling the redhead's hips to lying beside her. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the tears streaking Willow's cheeks, and Tara immediately caught Willow up in an embrace.

“Willow? What's wrong?”

“I want our daughter back,” mumbled Willow in a heartbreaking tone of voice. “God, Tara, I'm so scared! It feels like my heart has been ripped out of my chest .... and we're just sitting here! While god knows what happens to our baby!”

Tara blinked back tears of her own as she tightened her embrace. She ached to soothe Willow's fears, to reassure her that everything was going to be okay ... but she couldn't bring herself to speak the words. Tara was so choked up by her own raw emotions that she couldn't even speak at all. All she could do was hold the woman she loved, and pray that everything would be okay.

Their bedroom door crashed open with a thunderous retort, and Timothy stormed in, his shambling gait tightened with scarcely contained rage. In one hand, he held aloft a heavy tome, bound in leather and banded with strips of black, studded iron.

“Imbeciles! Moralistic buffoons!” he bellowed, flourishing the book in his hand as if it were a great and obvious truth. “Puritanical snipfallow!”

Tara's expression, which had been shifting from surprise towards indignant fury ended up as bewilderment at Timothy's most recent insult. What the heck is a snipfallow supposed to be?! The warlock continued on his tirade, but it just grew stranger as the words he was speaking further devolved into even more nonsensical gibberish.

Willow finally cut him off by screaming “Shut up!” at the top of her lungs, and Timothy came to an abrupt halt. “What the hell are you babbling about, you lunatic!” screeched Willow, her eyes still blotchy and red, her cheeks still wet with tears.

“What?” Timothy blurted, as if he had no idea what Willow was talking about.

“What do you mean, what! You're speaking gibberish!”

Timothy's head twitched violently, and his arms spasmed as if he were suffering a brief and erratic fit. Then before Tara could start to ask him what was wrong, he thrust the tome in his possession in their direction.

“Dust!” he loudly proclaimed.

“Dust?” Willow and Tara repeated in unison; Tara's tone one of confusion, Willow's indignant.

“Dust!!” Timothy furiously crowed.

“Dust.” Willow was the only one to repeat Timothy's words this time, her voice flat and her eyes narrowed. Leaping to her feet, she angrily advanced on Timothy. “You burst in here, you kick our door open .... to complain about the quality of our housekeeping!!!

“No!” Timothy shot back, “I burst in here to complain about the state of your magical abilities!” He flourished the book under Willow's nose. “I bequeathed you a kings ransom's worth of magical knowledge! Spells, incantations, techniques, artifacts .... and they are all covered with dust! You haven't even looked at them, have you!”

“No!” shouted Willow, pugnaciously thrusting herself even further forward. “We haven't!”

Tara quickly interposed herself between the two of them before they could come to blows. “Timothy, you already knew that!”

The blazing orbs that burned in the eye-pieces of Timothy's mask locked on Tara's face, momentarily dimming. “What?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Willow compressed her lips tightly against one another. “We told you that when you found your orb of resurrection, remember! It wasn't such a big deal then, was it!”

Timothy backed away, shaking his head and muttering imperceptibly to himself. He suddenly looked somehow lost and helpless, something vastly different to his usual aspect.

Tara's gaze flickered across to Willow, but she could tell from her lover's body language that Willow was still too angry to make the first move. It was up to her.

“Timothy ... what's the matter?”

His head flicked back up. “You're not ready.”

“Oh no!” began Willow, but Timothy refused to let her cut him off.

“Your magic isn't strong enough, not for what we will encounter in Hyriault. If ... when we get into a fight, you'll both be at an unacceptable disadvantage. I can't let you go, not yet.”

“No.” Willow stated with absolute, unshakable conviction. “No Timothy. Not this time. No more. We're going, and we're going now.”

“Mother ...”

NO! This is my little girl, my baby. And I'm not waiting any longer. I don't care what your reason is, I don't care about your excuses. We're going, and if you won't take us .... then we'll find our own way. No matter what.”

Mother and son, witch and warlock, locked eyes in a silent battle of wills, one that neither seemed prepared to concede. But in the end, it was Timothy who backed down.

“You're signing your own death warrants,” he insisted.

“As it is, every day without our child, I die a little bit more inside.”

Timothy digested this statement for several moments. “Very well, mother. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I take you both to Hell.”

To be contiued ...

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Last edited by Darth Pacula on Sat May 23, 2009 6:49 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 28th Jul)
PostPosted: Sat May 23, 2009 6:39 pm 
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6. Sassy Eggs
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Dibs! (on a roll tonight!)

Okay, so it might take a while for real feedback, since I didn't even know this story existed until a moment ago. Will write something when I catch up. ^_^

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 24th May 2009)
PostPosted: Sun May 24, 2009 1:57 am 
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19. Yummy Face
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Yay for good update-y goodness... I really hope that Willow and Tara are ready...

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 24th May 2009)
PostPosted: Sun May 24, 2009 10:11 am 
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13. Big Knowledge Woman
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OMG! Is it really you? I was pleasantly surprised to see this entertaining story updated. I hope you are able to keep it up - no pun intended. ;-)

Now you gave us this teaser, I'm even more excited since they're getting close to the long-awaited rescue. (I hope)

More soon please?


Wimpy

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 24th May 2009)
PostPosted: Thu May 28, 2009 10:28 am 
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10. Troll Hammer

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Timothy is so irritating (I rememeber him from the last story,) I hate it when I have to root for him, like now. But without him they'd be stuck, so I'm hoping for the best.

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 Post subject: Re: Sins of the Children (Updated 24th May 2009)
PostPosted: Fri Jun 26, 2009 3:36 am 
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8. Vixen
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Did I really not feedback for the July update??? Shame on me!

Part 11:
Quote:
They think I'm the same person they knew...

Since he acted crazy back then as well, he cant really blame them! :P
I hope they can help him though, somehow "fix" his body or get him a new one? Which sounds just wrong...

Part 12:
Quote:
Xander mournfully piped up. “I just made that coffee table.”
Dawn patted him on the back in consolation. “I'm sure it's gone to a better place.”

Ahhh, I missed this story :D
Quote:
"If we're lucky, we might get adjoining rooms at the funny farm.”

Book me a room too ;)
Hope you'll update soon so we'll see what happens in hell!

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