by jixer » Thu Aug 10, 2006 11:56 am
Chapter Nineteen
The meadow’s flowers danced lightly in a warm breeze, for even here on the shoulders of the Himalayas breezes can be warm. Jutting out of the southern end of the meadow is a mass of rock that widens as it goes south, a ship of rock forever plowing through unmoving seas. In the base of the rock, looking out over the meadow there is a shallow cave that the sun never touches. At the opening of the cave flutter sun faded prayer flags over small neat piles of stone. On the inside of the cave sit three still forms, now dressed in the tattered remains of robes. The origin of the forms had passed from living memory two years ago with the death of the oldest monk that had lived in the small monastery on top of the up-swelling rock.
In his boyhood the late monk had seen the fearsome man-like creature arrive at the gate of the monastery in what had been the uniform of a Japanese Imperial Army Captain. When the almost man had arrived his uniform was in rags, but his face was beautiful when not demonic. The former soldier had bowed and entered the temple prostrating himself just inside the doorway. A monk the boy had never seen move stood up slowly as the other monks began to pray. A simple metal ladle was brought and the water caused the creature to smoke, but he did not call out in his pain. When he looked up the handsome face was gone, a ruin remained but the boy had never seen someone so completely at peace.
The monk who never moved left the next night. He slowly came to the cave and sat down next to what the boy thought was a statue. Only then did the boy see the faces of the old, stiff monk and what he thought was a statue. They too were ruins that knew serenity. Over the next few years the boy grew in many ways and each year he volunteered to go with the older monks to replace the robes of those who were, and were not, meditating stone. The Japanese monk grew more stiff over the years and finally joined the other two a decade ago.
But now the boy who became the oldest monk was gone. Unrest and violence stalked the land. The monastery now was locked and empty, the monks removed ‘for their own protection’. Now no one comes to the cave once a year to redress the unmoving monks who wait for only what they can see.
Or to wonder about the invasive nature of the small patch of dandelions at the mouth of the cave.
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Tara Maclay sagged in her seat as the class went over her classmate’s various projects. At her turn Tara pulled out a portfolio and spread out six of her works, mostly still in sketch form. Her professor flipped through them silently. Tara’s heart sank. The professor looked at her solemnly.
“These are your best works yet,” the teacher said leaning back into her chair. “You can feel the emotions in the images. No offense, but your previous works have been too bright and cheerful to be real. This, this is so dark, so lifelike!”
“Thank you,” Tara said softly. In her mind she added I bet you love the movies where everyone dies and there’s no hope. That’s not life! You should get out of the ivory tower more often.
“I’m glad to see everyone is on schedule,” the professor beamed. “Don’t forget to answer your questionnaires about the faculty performance.”
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Willow looked at her results one last time and then handed in the proofs, work, and results. Her professor flipped through the pages and grunted. The TAs who had been her advisers looked on nervously.
“Satisfactory,” the professor grumbled.
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Connor’s tongue had taken on a life of it’s own as he worked through the mathematics problems Giles had given him. So far he had done everything but bite it in two as he had faced a progression of addition and subtraction to geometry. Finally the teen put down his pencil and turned over the last page.
“Done, sir,” he said letting out a deep breath.
“Very well,” Giles replied taking the papers. “Next we have the French verbs.”
Connor sighed.
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Detective Ramirez was a man familiar with the mess people sometimes made of their lives. Still, listening to the man who they ruled out as a suspect talk about his whereabouts and why he was in Sunnydale had been uncomfortable. Estrangement and death were usual parts of the stories he heard. This one was death and estrangement with old bitterness just to lighten the tone. He thought of paraphrasing the story for his novel but considered it too unhappy for a murder mystery.
“Do you figure him for it?” Jameson asked.
“In a word, no,” Ramirez answered thoughtfully. “In two words shit no.”
“Yeah,” Jameson nodded as he drove through the thick traffic. “His alibi checks out too. This whole thing doesn’t add up to just a murder.”
“Maybe he’s using his vampire powers to confuse us,” Ramirez grinned.
“Vampires being well known to conduct their interviews outside in the sun sipping Starbucks iced mochas while wearing bright colors,” Jameson replied. “I gotta wonder if cops in Minnesota get stories like we get handed by some of our more colorful tipsters.”
At that moment an RV being herded down the road by an Albertan nearly smashed the car into the guardrail. Jameson’s swearing and improvised reactions to the traffic around them made any questions but those of mortality and how one Province could license so many blind people to drive irrelevant. Finally they passed the rolling menace but refrained from shooting out the RV’s tires. After his heart stopped racing Ramirez pulled out his notebook.
“What if our victim wasn’t just a victim?” Ramirez asked out loud.
“Murder-suicide all in one body?” Jameson asked with a grim smile.
“Cultist leader unable to bring down the guy he blames for everything,” Ramirez started.
“And a bunch of psychos willing to kill to destroy a ‘vampire’ or whatever they think he is using the cops,” Jameson finished. “Want to throw this into your book? You could call it ‘Helter Skelter Lite’.”
“No author in his right mind would put this crap down on paper,”
Ramirez grinned. “And I have, of course, no idea what you’re going on about”
“My apologies,” Jameson grinned back. “Just remember, I’m Brad Pitt in the movie or I’ll tell everyone about how you really got that scar on your leg.”
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“They buy it?” Angel asked softly as Betty shimmered into view.
“Yes,” Betty answered. “Miss Maclay’s idea about telling mostly the truth using a ‘filter translation’ spell worked. Oh, may I point out that if you had one of those annoying cells with a microphone cord you could talk to me without looking about like people were thinking you were a madman.”
“I’d have to get rid of this shirt first,” Angel smiled slightly. “I’m just glad they didn’t add the threatened lederhosen. An aloha shirt one size too small is bad enough.”
“It made the right impression,” Betty pointed out. “I’m sure Xander will be glad to get it back.”
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In Jerusalem fifteen meters from the base of the Wailing Wall she knelt in darkness. Long ago she had become still and started her wait. No one had seen her ravaged features for over a hundred generations, which was a shame for her sublimely peaceful expression could have calmed any heart.
Above her in a cleft of the ancient wall a small clutch of dandelions reached for sun.
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Buffy sat in the backyard and sipped her Diet Pepsi. She had promised herself an afternoon off after being fired. She had filled out her Unemployment application before the Doublemeat manager had changed his mind. The funds would be paltry but she had a week to consider her future. Dawn’s arrival home was being heralded by the opening of the fridge. Buffy waited for a moment. The back door opened and Dawn stormed out, her outrage brimming over like a triple cheese left in the microwave too long.
“I have got to get some non-work metaphors,” Buffy grumbled softly.
“Do you know what they’re going to do?” Dawn demanded in a tone both angry and tragic.
“About what?”
“The days off!” Dawn replied with surprise. “We didn’t ask for them off but now we’re going to have to go to school on Saturday two weekends in a row! Just to make up for their mistake!”
“Mercury poisoning can make school boards crazy,” Buffy replied.
“Crazy?” Dawn snorted. “They’re insane!”
Buffy just nodded her head and decided to push back the discussion with Dawn she knew she had to have sooner or later. Now was not a good time.
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Tara and Willow entered the Magic Box without ringing the bell. For a split second they looked pleased with themselves until the Plamtal horn on display gave a bleat. Anya just smiled as the witches’ smiles disappeared.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Anya said.
“It would have been a bad day to beat the bell and the bleat now I guess,” Willow said happily. “Given that I have received one of the highest honors given at UC Sunnydale in science.”
“And what pray tell, is that?” Anya asked with a arched eyebrow.
“I got a ‘satisfactory’ from Dr. Klein!” Willow blurted out happily.
“Satisfactory?” Anya asked.
“Yep!” Willow replied brightly as Tara smiled proudly beside her. “He hasn’t given out a satisfactory since the year before I started college. His last satisfactory recipient just got a grant from JPL!”
“Okay,” Anya nodded. “Now do it again.”
“Oh my gosh!” Willow said after a second. “You’re right! If I can get another satisfactory I’ll-I’ll...I don’t know what I’d do! I need a project that no one’s ever done before!”
“Oh dear,” Giles said coming out of the office. “Now you’ve done it.”
“Excuse me, but there’s something else we need to check up on right now,” Fred said nervously.
“What?” Tara asked looking around quickly.
“It’s about Willow,” Fred said holding a large book in her hands. “She called forth fire when Angel suggested changing Connor’s memory.”
“She can do that when she’s stressed,” Tara said slightly defensively.
“She did it with a sphere,” Fred explained. “It looked just like the ones the salamanders use.”
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She is in a cave in the Ozarks. Years ago it was the edge of the western frontier for an expanding United States. Now it’s a nature sanctuary being slowly surrounded by housing developments. Yesterday a couple on their caving adventure passed her without noticing, their lights barely flickering over what now looks mostly like a oddly shaped stalagmite. Today she is in darkness again, patient and quiet.
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“How did it go?” Connor asked quickly when he saw his father in the training room in the Magic Box.
“Good, I think,” Angel replied. “Betty says they’re looking somewhere else now.”
“Great!” Connor said brightly. “Mr. Giles said I tested out at roughly a sophomore to junior level. All I need is the proper papers and something he called a backstory and I can go to school!”
“You need to know more yet,” Angel said tiredly.
“So teach me,” Connor said urgently. “I want to see this world. Show me.” Angel tried to find the words to explain things when Connor leaned close and grasped Angel by his shoulders. “Show me, father.”
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“What do you mean by a sphere?” Giles asked carefully.
“All of the flames had the same base, color, and height in a perfect sphere,” Fred explained as she typed on her laptop. “I’ve been observing Betty and Bruce because this is the first time I’ve ever encountered an elemental creature. I never expected they could be so nice. Did you know Betty did the lighting for the first performance of ‘The Importance Of Being Earnest’?”
“Actually, I only made them brighter,” Betty said with some slight embarrassment. “My lad gets over imaginative sometimes.”
“What about the lectures in the great European universities?” Fred asked smugly.
“That was exciting, making those lights bright during the debates, the lectures, the...ah, informal post school study groups,” Betty admitted nostalgically. “Great times. But that’s not why I’m here.”
“Why are you here?” Willow asked.
“This is going to sound melodramatic but I felt a great anxiety from here just a moment ago,” Betty replied. “Was there danger?”
“No,” Willow said flatly. “Fred just observed a magical manifestation that reminded her of your spheres.”
“Oh,” Betty said quietly.
“It was a sphere,” Fred said confidently. “Not as much flame, but it was a sphere.”
“What caused this?” Betty asked carefully.
“Angel asked me to change Connor’s memories,” Willow said softly.
“I see,” Betty said. Betty moved her tail and a single Lethe’s Bramble appeared in midair. “Miss Rosenberg, do you know...”
Tara’s heart skipped a beat and she could feel the anxiety building towards panic in Willow as the redhead froze in place. Tara glanced at the bramble and felt Willow’s panic fading along with her own unease as the bramble vanished in flame. Betty’s words stopped as the ash of the bramble fell to the floor.
“I believe Miss Burkle’s observations may mean something,” Betty said. “Though I’d be lying if I said I had the faintest idea what that something might be.”
“Oh good,” Giles said taking off his glasses. “Another line of inquiry.”
Willow just looked at the ashes and replayed the scene in her mind’s eye. She’d frozen, and Tara had destroyed the bramble with a perfect sphere of fire.
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Faith looked over the low racks of books. She stooped and replaced a misfiled volume. She touched the book again to make sure it was real.
“First time you’ve been in our library?” an older trustee asked softly.
“Yeah,” Faith said quietly.
“All right,” the older woman nodded. “Follow me.”
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He is at the bottom of the sea, lost long ago when the ship he was being sent on met a half sunk hulk. Now nearly covered by centuries of silt he still waits unhurriedly. The delicate fanlike creature unknown to the science of men attached to his ear is the only sign anything might be here.
As it happens the creature looks like a dandelion.
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Dinner that night at 1630 Revello started out restrained. For once Buffy had actually cooked and, following her mother’s recipes, had turned out a good meal. That started a round of compliments. In the quiet wake of those Giles coughed slightly. Everyone looked at him.
“I’ll be moving out next week,” he said quietly. “I’ve found a studio nearby that will tide me over until I can find a place.”
“Oh,” Buffy said suddenly looking down and smiling.
“Great!” clapped Dawn. “I mean that you’re staying,” she added hastily. “Not that I want you to leave.”
“Thank you,” Giles said with an easy smile.
“I’m going back to LA,” Angel said. “And I’m taking the eating machine with me. Will, I need that paper trail.”
“Okay,” Willow said hesitantly looking at Connor.
“Thanks!” Connor said brightly. “Father and I are going on a..oh yeah! Road trip. I’m going to learn about this world.”
“What about your lessons?” Giles asked sternly. “Your Latin could use some work.”
“We’ll see the Grand Canyon and Yankee Stadium,” Angel replied with a smile. “And lots in between. There’ll be time for Latin later.”
“Happy trails to you!” Bruce said with a smile.
“Until we meet again,” Angel grinned. The quiet of the room made him look around. “Doesn’t anybody here remember Roy Rogers?”
“Wasn’t he a signer of the Declaration of Independence?” Tara asked with wide eyed innocence.
“Heathens!”
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Buffy and Dawn sat outside on the back porch as the very last hint of the day faded from the sky and a waxing moon drifted above, flirting with lacy wisps of cloud. Dawn looked at her older sister as Buffy looked up and seemed to lose herself in the night sky.
“Buffy, what’s wrong?” Dawn asked levelly.
“Bad dreams,” Buffy reponded distantly. then she looked at the moon again. “At least a week before werewolves come out of the woodwork.”
“You see the world in a really, really weird way, big sister,” Dawn said with a worried smile. “And that comes from a glowing ball of energy.”
“Duly noted,” Buffy said easily.
“How bad are the dreams?” Dawn asked after a handful of seconds.
“I’m fighting alone,” Buffy explained cautiously. “Then things get ugly.”
“How ugly?” the teenager demanded.
“They’re just dreams,” Buffy evaded.
“You die, don’t you?” Dawn said with a hint of anger.
“Yeah,” Buffy admitted reluctantly.
“So don’t fight alone!” Dawn blurted out. “Take Betty and Bruce or Willow and Tara or even Xander but don’t fight alone!”
“Giles and the others are working on that,” Buffy said.
“Okay,” Dawn said sitting down.
“My turn,” Buffy said with a knowing grin. “Who are you going with to Junior Prom?”
“Kevin,” Dawn answered softly.
“He picks you up here and everybody checks him out,” Buffy said firmly.
“Everybody?” Dawn gasped.
“Including the salamanders,” Buffy answered.
“Why not just check me into a convent now?” Dawn asked forlornly.
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Antonio looked sideways at the sad young Englishwoman riding in the cab with a dark skinned little girl. What she had been doing with a huddled band of illegal immigrants on a desolate stretch of beach was unclear. The gold coin warm in his hand was much more clear. He reminded himself to pray to St. Jude in thanks for the unexpected windfall that would let him make the next few payments on his battered truck.
Suddenly a large black Mercedes cut off the truck. Antonio barely avoided them and felt his heart race when the doors opened to shotgun wielding men.
“You’ve got our blacks,” the weasel looking leader sneered.
“Stay here,” the Englishwoman told the little girl. Antonio began to protest and reach for the woman but she was somehow already at the car.
What happened next Antonio would never be sure about. In the flat light of the truck’s headlights the shotguns seemed to fly in one direction while the large men went head over heels in another. The leader brought up a pistol, or seemed to because there was nothing in his hand when he fell to his knees and began screaming in terror. Then the slender woman was tossing the steering wheel of the Mercedes out into the night. In a trick of the light and the dust for a split second the truck driver thought he saw a vision of Hell in the face of the woman. Then she came back to the cab, smiling slightly and holding two automatic shotguns and a new looking Beretta pistol. She handed the firearms to the driver and placed the little girl on her lap again.
“Thank you,” Antonio said shakily as he emptied the shotguns. He hid away the pistol.
“Kindness begets kindness,” Drusilla said politely.
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Lilah Morgan sipped the claret and wondered how much the judge she was dining with had paid for a wine that was becoming expensive vinegar. The wine fit the man, overpriced and bearing a pretentious title. The judge looked at her and Lilah knew he was wondering how he was going to get her into bed. The lawyer opened a her purse and pushed a business card across the table.
“C R 7920456 T,” she said in a business like tone. “That’s the account. The box number is 1702.”
“It’s protected you silly bitch,” the judge sneered.
“Listen, George,” Lilah said becoming very earnest. “We had levels of protection that used things that made me sit up nights frightened out of my mind when I started. These people blew through it and wiped out the whole staff. That was my job interview.”
“My information says this new Power is just a nice girl,” the judge said with leer. “Pretty too.”
“That’s what we thought,” Lilah said soberly. “We did something wrong so she sent everyone else in our branch off for a dirt nap, got it? Now imagine her finding out what’s in your box and why your account is full. You and your protections would be a pretty fire in about seven tenths of a second. I’m doing it this way for you.”
“You’re frightened of her,” the judge said thoughtfully.
“Only in the carrying nitro-glycerin on a hot day kind of way,” Lilah admitted. “But at least it’s not boring.”
“Why does she want this girl out of prison?” the lawyer in him asked.
“It kind of slipped my mind to ask. You want me to call her and let you ask?”
“Not really.”
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“What’s wrong love?” Bruce asked as the embers died down.
“I’ve been thinking about a lot of things,” Betty said gently as his paws found and released the tension in her muscles.
“Thinking can be overdone,” Bruce mused. “Or not done enough. The really gifted can do both at once.”
“Right now I don’t want to think about anything,” Betty said meeting her mate’s eyes. “I want to forget about all the questions and the tangled up responsibilities. Help me forget for a little while.”
And Bruce did, for a little while.
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Buffy was looking up at her father. He was telling her had to go out of town. He promised he’d take her to the ice show next time.
“Why?” she cried.
Buffy whimpered in her sleep.
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Tara slept uneasily. Willow woke up several times as Tara murmured angrily in her sleep. Suddenly the redhead was wide awake as power began to build in Tara. Willow shook her awake.
“Baby it’s okay!” Willow whispered urgently. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
“Hunh?” Tara said pulling back. Then the blue eyes closed and Tara clutched her lover.
“Donny was teasing me and then he hit me,” Tara whispered. “Daddy was yelling at me and he didn’t stop it.”
“It’s okay,” Willow promised. “You’re all mine and no one’s ever going to hurt you again.”
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Donnie crawled to the door, his eyes closing from the swelling. The way it hurt to breathe made him think a rib was broken. He managed to open the door to his room and saw his father sitting in the hallway with the remains of his own door scattered around him.
“Dad,” Donnie gasped.
“You too?” his father croaked.
“It was Tara,” Donnie said trying not to breathe deeply.
“She hit me,” the older Mackay said in hurt surprise.
“Me t-too,” Donnie gasped. “Just once but her hand got huge just before it hit.”
“We need to find her...”
“Maybe a letter would be better,” Donnie said in a frightened voice.
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The first light of the coming day was a whisper on the horizon as the truck pulled into a gas station on the edge of the city. Drusilla got out and looked eastward. She turned back at the rumpled truck driver and the sleeping girl.
“I’m going,” she said gently to the driver. “Take her to the Sisters of Charity. Give them these.” Drusilla pulled off a ring from her finger that she hadn’t removed since she’d woken up in her coffin and took off the ruby earrings she had been wearing. The driver nodded and Drusilla knew in the way she had been cursed to know things that would be that this time the knight errant she chose would not fail.
“I will take the others to the right part of the city to disappear,” Antonio promised, but he was speaking to the fading night.
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Willow and Tara were still in the pre-caffeine part of the morning when they headed downstairs. They walked into the kitchen as Giles and the salamanders enjoyed their morning tea in the manner most suited to the sophont in question. Willow made a beeline to the coffee maker and smiled at the aroma.
“Thank you, Coffee Man,” Willow said sincerely.
“I must admit the aroma is most pleasant this morning,” Giles said.
“Might be the binding spell,” Tara thought out loud as she took a cup from Willow. “Thanks love.”
“Perhaps,” Giles replied. “I must say the spell seems to be working. Quite well done, Betty.”
“From the tracing I’d say a spell that impacted the Slayer caused a spike last night,” Betty mused looking at a chart she called forth. “Any dreams, Tara?”
“Yes,” she said shaking her head. “I was back h-h-home.”
“Did you do anything in the dream?” Betty asked as she frowned at the floating chart.
“I pushed them away,” Tara said. “Or I think I did. Willow woke me up.”
Thank God, Tara added to herself as she felt Willow’s comforting arm slip around her waist.
“What about the spell we did on Drusilla?” Willow asked as her coffee powered synapses began to fire. “Where did the power come from?”
“From a blessing crafted long ago,” Betty answered as she dismissed the chart. “Very basic and true.”
“I take it those who crafted it were on the side of the angels?” Giles asked.
“Quite.”
“Good,” Tara sighed with relief.
“What are your plans for documenting Connor?” Betty asked Willow.
“I thought I’d take him out of the country right after he was born in California,” Willow explained. “I’m not that familiar with stuff overseas though.”
“I have a thought,” Betty said looking at Giles. “How good is the boy’s French?”
“Good but archaic,” Giles said leaning forward. “He tests well in Italian and Latin as well, but less than the French. His Greek is barely adequate.”
“My Greek is nonexistent,” Bruce chimed in. “Our boy’s got an education to work with at least, even if it came from a bloody bastard.”
“Even bloody bastards, or bitches, can teach,” Willow mused. “Sorry, just remembering a certain professor. What’s your thought?”
“There are several islands either still controlled or places colonized by the French,” Betty explained. “We take one of the less pleasant locations, perhaps a backwater in French Guiana, as a start. Make Holtz an eccentric expatriate in the story.”
“He could be a Luddite,” Willow added. “And an end of the world cult kind of guy who taught Connor to survive in primitive situations.”
“Miss Rosenberg,” Betty grinned. “I do believe you have a future as a screenwriter.”
“I hope not!” Willow sputtered.
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Buffy hesitated just out of sight of the others in the kitchen. For a moment she considered heading out to the Magic Box on the pretense she needed to train.
I am getting rusty she thought. But I’m still pretty good at running away.
Then she took a deep breath and stepped forward.
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Tara looked toward the door of the kitchen and Willow could feel an echo of the emotional turmoil there. Then Buffy entered with a studied and entirely fake nonchalance.
“Breakfast meeting?” she asked casually.
“Sort of,” Willow said easily. “There was a power surge last night in the grounding for Tara. Any dreams you remember?”
“No,” Buffy said a bit too quickly. She hurried past Willow and Tara to get to the coffee.
“I was back home in my dream,” Tara said without looking at Buffy. “My f-father wouldn’t stop Donnie. He wouldn’t do anything.”
“Yeah,” was all Buffy said but in one word she spoke enough to make Willow almost wilt.
“Hey baby, come here,” Willow said gently. Then she wrapped Tara in one arm and offered her hand to Buffy. “Girls hug?”
Buffy smiled a little and hugged mostly Tara.
“Isn’t that supposed to be ‘group hug?” Bruce asked.
“Giles’ gives hugs,” Buffy said. “But you need a crisis. Salamanders are a bit small and kind of flamey.”
“True,” Bruce agreed.
“I do not need a crisis to show affection,” Giles insisted. “I’m just more verbally comforting.”
“And English,” Buffy said with a real grin.
“Isn’t Dawn supposed to be up?” Tara said looking at the clock.
“No shower running,” Buffy said with a frown. “Excuse me.”
When she heard Buffy on he stairs Betty looked at the witches. “Is there a problem with her father?” she asked. “Please forgive me but she seemed upset.”
“He hasn’t called in over a year,” Tara said with a hint of anger.
“Since before Joyce died,” Giles added with a hint of his own pain.
“Bloody Hell,” grumbled Bruce. “Where is he?”
“Spain, at least that’s the last we knew,” Willow explained. “We were so frightened he was going to show up when Buffy was dead and take Dawn but we never heard from him.”
“I see,” Bruce said with a chill in his voice remarkable for such an exothermic creature. “Excuse me.”
With that he popped out of the kitchen. Betty sighed.
“Does he do this often?” Giles asked with a consoling tone.
“It could be worse,” Betty said. “Someone could be kicking a puppy.”
“Getting an angry salamander’s attention would serve them right then,” Willow said hotly.
“You are a genuine redhead, aren’t you?” Betty asked with a hint of smile.
“Yeah,” Willow answered.
“But she’s worth the trouble,” Tara said pulling Willow close.
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Faith sat uncomfortably in the long room. She had never been allowed this privilege before. She looked up at the doors being opened. She saw small knots of people of all races come in. All around her the lowest security inmates with good conduct histories brightened as their families entered. She felt her heart racing. What if he didn’t come after he called? She didn’t see him. Then she realized she had seen him but in an unexpected way.
Angel wasn’t alone.
It took her until he was actually almost embracing her that Faith realized he had a teen aged boy with him. That was almost as shocking as seeing Angel in an open collared shirt and sunglasses. The warmth of his embrace was more welcome than she realized and when they parted she was smiling.
“Faith, this is my son, Connor,” he said with a smile.
“Hey,” Faith said with a grin. “How do you like lock up?”
“No offense, Miss,” Connor said looking around. “This place makes my skin crawl.”
“Good,” the young woman said. “Stay smart.”
“Okay, so much for the ‘Scared Straight’ moment,” Angel said taking off his sunglasses. “How are you doing?”
“Besides being a bit wigged by a flying lizard o’ fire I’m good,” she said letting herself be open. “I’m working in the library.”
“Good!” Angel smiled.
“Hey, don’t think it’s like it is in the movies,” Faith said. “You can still get shanked or otherwise fucked up around books in here. Don’t get me wrong, it is about a hundred times better than it was but there’s no real safe place in here.”
“We’re going to get you out,” Angel said gently. “Wes and Lilah are the point people on that.”
“You know, I heard the words but the image kind of doesn’t load,” she said after a a couple of seconds. “Wes and the she-lawyer from good old W and H?”
“Yeah,” Angel said nodding. “Betty made her an offer. Wes...”
“Still don’t trust him?”
“Yes and no,” Angel said carefully. “He’s a lot harder than he used to be.”
“I’ve seen hard go to pieces in here,” Faith said quietly. “Hard can be brittle.”
“Yeah,” Angel nodded. “You haven’t broken.”
“I had a friend who believed in me,” Faith explained. “That and I can bend steel bars into circles. Okay, not perfect circles but it does keep the flies off.”
“Cool!” Connor said with wide eyes. “How big are the bars?”
“Nothing bigger than a half inch,” Faith replied with a smile. “But you wouldn’t want to hold one right after I do it.”
“Why?” Connor asked quickly.
“Heat from the friction of the action of bending,” Faith replied.
“How’s the GED going?” Angel asked proudly.
“Just two more subjects,” Faith said letting her pride show. “I’m never going to be a math whiz.”
“How’s the food in here?” Connor asked before Faith could go on.
“Dull and tasteless,” Faith said with a frown. “That’s on the good days. Bad days can make you puke.”
“Oh,” the boy said becoming pale.
“That’s enough about life on the inside,” Angel said looking at Connor. Then he looked at Faith. “Okay, ask me anything you want.”
“Got a sunburn yet?”
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Willow looked over at Tara. Since they had left the Summers house on an urgent errand of feline mercy Tara had been preoccupied enough to need stopping at a crosswalk and had almost let go of Willow’s hand. Willow let Tara have her space but she could tell there was something out of balance. Finally Tara stopped on the edge of the campus.
“Buffy’s dream,” Tara said suddenly. “Her feelings, her words...it was about her father.”
“Then it was probably a bad one,” Willow said unhappily.
“Like mine,” Tara said looking at Willow.
“What?” Willow asked.
“If Buffy’s hurting because of me...” Tara began.
“First, no post hoc ergo prompter hoc,” Willow said firmly. “Second, let’s try to keep the unilateral decisions for the group to a minimum.”
“Discuss and process,” Tara sighed. “Interact and build consensus between all the share holders. I have to be a grown-up, don’t I?”
“Yep,” Willow agreed.
Or not slipped through Tara’s thoughts for a fleeting second as memories of power whispered in the darker recesses of her mind.
“Yeah,” Tara agreed more firmly than Willow expected.
===========================================================
The sun was fading above her. Drusilla could feel her hunger slipping around her like a cloak. A noise came to her ears and she moved before she thought. The wriggling rat was almost in her mouth before she stopped her hand. She looked at the rodent, now panting and still in her hand. She shook her head.
“I think I’ll fast, little one,” she said with a smile. “Now run away.”
And the rat, with the common sense of those on the lower end of the food chain, did so with all the speed she could muster.
===========================================================
“I’ve never seen her move so fast,” Willow said rubbing her wrist.
“I think she didn’t want us to go,” Tara replied.
“Is that any reason to try to trip me by running between my legs?” Willow protested.
“It probably made good cat sense,” Tara answered as she pushed open the door to the Magic Box.
“Great!” snapped a sort of familiar voice.
“Halfrek?” Willow asked looking at a seemingly normal brunette woman.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” Tara asked in leaden tones in a voice that wasn’t hers.
“Yee-ouch!” Halfrek said pulling out a glowing pendant. “Well, that explains it.”
“Explains what?” Tara asked cautiously.
“Why we’re not demons anymore,” Halfrek said petulantly. “I mean look at me!”
“We never really were demons, Hallie,” Anya said thoughtfully. “We were humans who were changed by some really ancient kick ass magic.”
“The Orb of Petbe,” Halfrek snarled. “Which that hidebound old fossil has lost forever unless the witch here can return our property-”
”YOUR PROPERTY STRUMPET?” Tara said turning a ivory shade.
“Tara,” Willow said gently taking Tara’s hand.
“It’s gone,” Tara said looking coldly at Halfrek.
“Then why are you doing the whole ancient power speaking through an avatar thing?” the Vengeance demon demanded hotly.
“I don’t know,” Tara admitted.
“Hmm,” Anya said leaning forward on the counter. “I think I know.”
“What, you’ve taken on the new role of wise seer?” Hallie smirked.
“Lay off!” Willow snapped. Then she looked at Anya and asked much more gently. “What is it?”
“Like I said, Vengeance demons weren’t really demons,” Anya explained. “We were humans tied to a hugely powerful mystical magic source, a source tuned to vengeance.”
“So why did I do, um, that?” Tara asked worriedly.
“Because even the purest heart smiles when a bastard gets his,” Anya said with a nostalgic tone. Then she looked at Willow and back to Tara with a wicked grin. “And I wouldn’t say you’ve got the purest heart, girlfriend.”
“But I don’t want vengeance on anybody...” Tara began before a few candidates raised their hands in memories that lay too close to old wounds. “Okay, maybe for a fleeting moment.”
“Which is all it takes,” Anya said now with a more remorseful tone. “One hot flash of anger, one misspoken word, a wish, and you’ve got vengeance no matter how much it hurts later. I’d say you’ve still got a remnant of the Orb’s power that hooked onto your human nature if Hallie’s glowing pendant is any indication.”
“Only a remnant?” Willow asked hopefully.
“Yeah,” Anya nodded. “Otherwise Hallie would most likely be a pile of ash.”
“But what about all the Justice demons stuck all over the place?” Halfrek asked in a panic. “How do I get them back safely?”
“That’s not what Petbe was about,” Tara said with a sureness that disturbed her.
“Maybe that’s the key,” Willow said quickly.
“Tie them to a true source of justice?” Fred asked hesitantly from the lower bookcase behind the table.
How the heck does she do that? Willow thought as she and Tara turned quickly to see the slim woman they had overlooked standing up. I wasn’t that quiet in Freshman Gym! Then Fred seemed to wilt under the witches gaze.
“I, ah, just thought it might, you know, help,” Fred said pulling back into herself.
“I think you’re right,” Tara said gently with a smile. Fred smiled back at Tara and Willow felt a twinge of jealousy she tried to ignore. The redhead slipped an arm around Tara’s shoulders anyway.
Tara’s going through a lot and needs my support Willow told herself in a no nonsense tone.
“A real source of justice?” Halfrek asked with a bright smile. “Not some damned old ball of crystal a jerk can give away by being stupid, right?”
“Hallie, take a breath and think about this,” Anya advised carefully. “Justice is-”
“We’ll take it!” Halfrek said ignoring her friend. “What do we do?”
“Um, may I see your talisman?” Tara asked.
“Wait!” Anya shouted.
“What is it?” Tara asked.
“Tara, you’ve broken ancient evil magic, been touched by a seer of unprecedented power not to mention salamanders and at least one dragon I think, and wiped out a Hellmouth,” Anya said ticking off her points on her fingers. “You go looking for true justice you might just find it.”
“That’s what I want!” Halfrek fumed. “Real justice! No more of this half-assed vengeance that doesn’t go nearly far enough!”
“What about the other VDs?” Anya asked angrily. “You’re acting like D’Hoffryn!”
“I’m the most senior one of us and I’ve got people stuck from here to dimensions with corrosive atmospheres that can barely stay alive with this pitiful power level!” Halfrek roared. “They’re not debating this in some bijou little magic shop, they’re trying to survive! Got it?”
“Your choice,” Anya said holding up her hands.
“Yes it is!” Halfrek snarled. Then she looked at Tara taking out her talisman. “Can you do this for real?”
“Let me see,” Tara began taking the talisman into one hand and grasping Willow’s hand with the other. “If we look into the surrounding planes...”
Suddenly Willow saw them all on one side of a giant scale. A sword was placed on the other side and it balanced after a few seconds. Then without warning they were in front of a flame with the sword hanging in the air between them and the fire. Halfrek stepped forward.
“I agree, for all of us,” she answered to question meant for the ears of neither witch.
Then all three were back in the Magic Box. Halfrek stood in front of them with a sword of gray steel that now matched her eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back from a face that was now more regal, imposing, and no little bit disquieting than her guise as a Vengeance Demon had ever been.
“Thank you,” she said to the witches in a flat, even voice. Then she looked at Anya and held out the sword. “I envy you. This thing is heavier than the world. Goodbye, Anya.” With those words she vanished.
“I don’t think I’ll see her again,” Anya said after a long moment.
“I’m not sure I’d want to now,” Willow added.
“What am I going to do about the vengeance power?” Tara asked softly. “What if I dream...oh no!”
“Hold it, baby!” Willow said hurriedly. “Take a breath. We’ve got an expert on vengeance here.”
“Yeah, Anya said with a frown.
“What’s wrong?” Tara asked.
“Just thinking about how I got that knowledge,” Anya sighed. “My first shot turned Olaf into a troll. How many people has he killed, raped, or tortured so I could have my moment of revenge?”
“Anya,” Tara started.
“Hey, this is your fault,” Anya said in tone that tried and failed at being light. “Our talk made me think. Right now I just wish I could undo it all.”
Tara lurched. Images of Donnie and her father swirled with memories of Alice Baker pointing at her and laughing with that beautiful face.
“HOLD ONTO ME!” Tara said out loud in a begging tone.
“Tara!” Willow said pulling her girl close. “Are you okay?”
“I s-s-s-saw Daddy and Donnie and-and Alice Baker,” Tara said taking hold of Willow.
“Who?” Willow asked.
“The girl who outed her,” Anya said quietly. “I’m sorry Tara. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Wait,” Willow said holding Tara at arms length. “Hold on here. Let’s look at this. I’ve got an idea.”
“Right,” Anya said suddenly smiling. “Fred, move over. Let’s all sit down.”
“Why?” Fred asked.
“Willow’s brain is going to go off,” Anya said. “It should be good, but her mouth goes into overdrive when this happens.”
“It does not!” Willow insisted as she sat down. “I just get a bit stream of consciousness, that’s all!”
“Fine,” Anya said quickly. “Back to the idea before it wanders off. What about Tara and the Orb?”
“Right,” Willow said turning and picking up a book from Fred’s pile. “What I was thinking was that if the Orb left behind traces attached to Tara those traces would be tied to old acts of revenge because while the Orb gave power it also gathered it from the blood spilled by those bound to it, sort of priming the pump by giving some power but getting more back in really nasty blood letting like all the eyeball exploding and guts being ripped out you used to tell us about all the time and what made me think that was when Tara just now said ‘Hold onto me’ she didn’t really sound like herself and I realized it was more of the remnant talking and it’s afraid she has the power to get rid of it because she said that when Anya said she wished she could undo it all-”
Tara shuddered as old, unfair memories slipped past her mind’s eye. Willow held Tara’s hand and then took a deep breath.
“Wishes!” Willow said excitedly suddenly turning to Anya. “That’s it! You couldn’t do anything without a wish, could you?”
“No,” Anya replied.
“Exactly because when Xander left you at the altar you were trying to get Tara and me to wish for something bad to happen to him and then when we didn’t you got upset so for a vengeance deity there must be a real big power band with wishes so since you wished you could take it all back and he panicked I think Tara can grant your wish and maybe get rid of him!”
Anya looked at Tara for a long second. “It might hurt.”
“Do it!” Tara hissed as the images began to come faster.
“Tara Maclay, I wish I could undo all the vengeance I ever wrought!”
“Granted!” Tara said between gritted teeth. Then she tilted her head back and breathed out an ancient musty smoke that carried with it scents of every fuel from incense to dung. Anya’s eyes glowed green while the smoke poured out of the witch. In the smoke Willow could see a man of smoke trying to get back into Tara. Willow grabbed a book and began fanning the smoke. Finally both women sagged forward in the now smoky store as the man vanished with a silent scream. Anya pressed her hands to her temples as Tara coughed and made a face.
“I feel better,” she almost spat. “Except for this taste in my mouth!”
“Anya?” Fred asked softly.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Anya whimpered as she began to rock back and forth. “I was a monster!”
Tara got up shakily and went over to her friend. Tara sat next to Anya and pulled her close. Willow got up and stood behind them placing her hands on their shoulders. Fred came back with a small glass of amber liquid after a second. Anya looked at the glass and shook her head.
“Oh!” Fred said hurriedly. “Oh, no! I didn’t mean for you to drink this because alcohol really isn’t what you need right now despite all the old movies. It’s for Tara since I couldn’t find any mouthwash.”
“Um, thanks,” Tara said taking the glass and looking at it uncertainly.
“Oh, this ought to be good,” Anya said raggedly as she scrubbed away an errant tear. “Bottoms up!”
===========================================================
Drusilla knew the sun was gone above her. She picked up the doll and began climbing up the long winding stairs out of the sewer. She needed to get moving. The visions she had thought a curse now seemed to be guiding her to a place she could rest. At the top of the stairs she hesitated, listening for heartbeats outside. She sighed with relief at the silence for some habits are hard to break. A few minutes later a breeze stirred the dank air below.
===========================================================
The lead demon of the work group at the Gates of Blood looked down as he cleaned. Suddenly he felt a distant zephyr of cool air. He risked a quick look up in time to see a tiny disk of fluff with a small seed under it drift in and fall almost where he was cleaning. As he stared at the out of place messenger from a world with green and living things it almost burrowed into the soil. He shook his head and when he looked again a tiny outpost of green was there among the rocks.
For the first time since he had learned how long time could be the demon smiled. Then he cleaned very carefully around the dandelion.
===========================================================
“You okay?” Willow asked as Tara flipped through a book pretending to do research.
“My tummy is still on fire,” Tara complained.
“Scotch will do that,” Betty said over her books. “Really girls, next time you’re off to do something hare-brained please call me.”
“You didn’t feel it?” Willow asked.
“Nothing,” Betty said as she read. “It must have been all internal for both Tara and Anya.”
“Good Lord,” Giles said as he came in the back door. “What is that stink?”
“Essence of moldy old vengeance god,” Anya replied. “Prop the back door open and let’s get a cross draft going.”
“Yes,” Giles agreed as he propped open the door. “Now, any luck on our issues?”
“I’ve found a really neat old town in French Guiana in this old volume,” Fred said brightly holding up an old travel book. “They’re not in Google or anything and even Betty’s never heard of it. I think if Connor visits the place for just a couple of days he should be able to answer any questions from busy-bodies.”
“Excellent,” Giles said. “Any other news?”
“Tara’s free of the last vestiges of the Orb of Petbe,” Willow said brightly. “Um, that’s kind of why the shop smells so awful.”
“Will my learning the details make me a better person?” Giles asked thoughtfully.
“I wished I’d never done the Vengeance Demon bit and then we smoked the old crap out,” Anya summarized.
“Evidently literally,” Giles quipped as he took off his glasses.
“Now we’re working on a theory about what we saw when we were testing my magic,” Tara added. “Um, actually I think it’s a hypotheses.”
“If I add my purchases of some workable furniture for my apartment this has been a most productive day,” Giles said with a smile.
“Excuse me,” came from the air behind them with an antipodal accent. “I’m kind of flummoxed.”
“What is it, Bruce?” Willow asked. “Is it Buffy’s dad?”
“Yes, but, um...” the salamander sort of answered as he turned pink. “It’s like this...”
A few minutes later Giles was cleaning his glasses vigorously.
“I’ll have to tell her,” he said with grimace.
===========================================================
Buffy turned down the alleyway to the back of magic Box at speed. The Slayer cleared the pile of boxes from the Chinese Market and landed lightly without breaking her carefully maintained stride. At the last possible second she saw the fan and cleared it with a clumsy jump. Buffy banged into the workout room and looked through into the store. She grabbed a towel and began to stretch after her run.
“Hey guys,” she called out brightly. “What died?”
“Nothing important,” Giles said turning to face her.
“But what you’re about to say is,” Buffy said unhappily reading his look with ease.
“Yes,” Giles said calmly. “Bruce has found out why your father hasn’t been returning your letters.”
“He is in Spain, right?” Buffy asked trying to keep the panic out of her voice.
“Oh yes,” Giles said hurriedly. “He’s in excellent health.”
“Then what the hell is his excuse?” Buffy demanded.
“He’s in prison for drunk driving.”
To Be Continued
Last edited by
jixer on Sat Aug 12, 2006 12:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.
