Disclaimers
– Buffy the Vampire Slayer is owned and copyrighted by Joss
Whedon,
Mutant Enemy, Warner Bros., and 20th Century Fox Television. I do not claim ownership; I just want to
rent the characters and their lives for a few hundred paragraphs. There is an original character, but someone
else thought up the basis for this guy a few thousand years ago.
Rating
– This fic series is rated NC-17 for descriptions of violence, explicit
language, sexual situations between consenting adults of the same gender, and
the most dangerous and explosive thing humanity has to deal with (not telling;
figure it out). If you do not care for
this type of writing, go read something a little more vanilla.
Feedback
– Is always welcome. I can be reached at Dusk@Early.com
.
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Inside a locked and warded room on the campus of UC Sunnydale, Tara was lying face down on her bed, sheets akimbo. Rolling over, she exposed her face to the world, though it was still partially concealed behind a tangle of blonde hair. Lost in a state of unconsciousness, one indistinguishable feature was prominent to any who might be watching over her. Tearstains were clearly visible down both cheeks, proof that she had cried herself to sleep.
As she dreamed, she continued to cry, both internally and externally.
She pictured herself drifting away from Sunnydale, out to a place where no one
could see her in her misery. Tara found herself in a barren wasteland and
allowed her tears to fall more freely, descending to the dusty soil now beneath
her feet. Falling to her hands and knees, she began beating the ground
where the moisture from her eyes fell, pondering why she had to fall in love
with someone who would never return the emotion she most longed to feel.
Each strike was accentuated by her anguish, draining her until she could no
longer summon the strength to raise her arms. Sitting back on her heels,
the blonde witch turned her head skyward, unleashing a scream of pure,
unrestrained agony. Her body racked by tremulous sobs, she fell to the
ground in a heap, never noticing the sky darkening above.
Let it never be said that those who dwell amidst the heavens do not share in
the cries of those on the ground below.
<*> Willow and Buffy’s
Dorm Room <*>
Willow Rosenberg often dreamt of being wind, often picturing herself as a classic representation of an elemental when she did so. Her form was vaguely human: all the normal limbs and digits were present, but she had learned not to limit herself to corporeally conceptualized stimuli, reaching out with her entire being to touch; to see; to listen. While dreaming, she wafted through trees or soared high above the ground below. It was an event that had started early in her childhood as a way to escape some of the teasing and snide comments directed at her by the other kids. Over the past two years, it had changed into a vision of power, granting her a glimpse of her potential as a witch.
This particular time, she decided to climb. The earlier incident with Tara had left her questioning which emotions comprised her dynamic with the blonde witch, leaving her with a need for a different perspective of reality. Attaining an altitude where she felt comfortable, the redhead gazed downward, watching commercial airlines fly along their routes, ferrying people from one place to another as they went about their lives. Extending herself to gain greater awareness of her surroundings, she located a squall line of black, pendulous clouds off in the distance. She began racing towards it, as rain was normally a rare occurrence in southern California, and Willow took every opportunity she could to experience it.
After half an hour, she arrived at the western edge of the storm. While weaving through cumulonimbus clouds, water droplets lovingly teased and danced along her form, glistening like cascades of diamonds. An occasional updraft guided her through hidden canyons of white illuminated by shafts of refracted sunlight, offering a stark contrast to the ominous darkness of the clouds’ outer shells. Lightning, seemingly driven by a guiding hand, leapt from cloud to cloud, building with each jump, until finally hurling itself into the ground with an almost audible scream. The storm felt wonderful and alive. It was only slightly surprising when she noticed a presence ingrained within the system, which further piqued her curiosity. She had observed several electrical displays of prowess when the storm seemed to perceive her, as though judging her worthiness, or lack thereof, to be in place only Gods and Goddesses once dared tread.
Tuning her senses to keep a closer eye on the arcing electricity, she was caught off guard as a bolt of lightning streaked towards her from behind, apparently having passed judgement on her intrusion. At the last possible moment, it bent itself, gently encircling her waist and washing over and through her with adoration. She stared transfixed as the electricity coalesced into a humanoid shape in front of her, much like the one Willow wore as she danced in a playground only birds seemed to have the privilege of using. The lightning elemental’s right arm stayed behind her at the small of her back, pulling her in tight, and Willow ‘sighed’ as their bodies started to come together.
The left hand tentatively trailed up her right arm, eventually reaching and caressing her neck, sending small shivers down her spine. As her companion drew their faces together, mortal words and thoughts paled to describe the sensation as the two forces of nature ‘kissed.’ As the osculation became more Epicurean, Willow felt the storm around them strengthen, pooling its power and culminating into a supercell. Lightning and wind began to flow into one another, creating a mesocyclone within the clouds, and the redhead’s essence sensed a tornado form from their union. The winds intensified around the pair, forming a protective sphere of power with enough velocity to shred a 747 into confetti in less than ten seconds.
As their souls intertwined, hers trembled in pleasure as the passion felt for her by the other person permeated her identity. It reminded her of a passage from a Clive Barker novel, of being “both entered and enterer,” and the redhead embraced the knowledge of whom she was sharing these echoed sensations with. No longer able to deny her true emotions within the joining, Willow chastised herself for waiting so long. The thought was quickly swept away amidst empathic caresses. The hacker promised to condemn any and all that came between them. As the reciprocated sentiments of love and longing grew, the tornado built further, with ground winds now exceeding 200 miles per hour. Though the tower of raw force violently whipped left and right, the base never strayed from its position directly below them. Willow began experiencing the tentative stages of a spiritual orgasm, when a cacophonous noise intruded her reverie, violently propelling her back to her corporeal body and ripping her into semi-consciousness.
The sound reverberated through her ears once more, and green eyes opened in narrow slits, glaring at the phone. Vowing to inflict serious bodily harm to whoever was on the other end of the line, Willow picked up the handset.
“Hello?” Her voice came out raw and guttural, as though she had just finished a powerful, sustained scream.
“Willow?”
“Hi, Giles.”
“You sound terrible. Is anything the matter?”
“No, just dealing with sleep-dep.”
“Ah. Is Buffy around?”
“Nope. Spotted her coming back from patrol, but I got in early this morning and it looked like she had grabbed her equipment bag and went back out.”
“How very odd.”
“So, why are you calling me at…” Willow scanned around the room, locating the clock and groaning at the time displayed there. “…ten in the morning?”
“Riley had been kind enough to obtain an Initiative scanner for me after Professor Walsh tried to have Buffy killed and I heard something rather disturbing over it last night.”
“Giles, I’ve had four hours of sleep and you interrupted a very…” She stopped herself from continuing. Things like that tended to fall into the ‘too much information’ category. “I was having an enlightening dream.”
“Sorry. When you hear from Buffy, please ask her to call me. Something rather unusual seems to be occurring with the local vampire and demon populations.”
“Gotcha. Bye.” She ended the call, then mentally conjured a few colorful expletives, both for Giles interrupting her dream and for forgetting to tell him the information Spike had relayed to her earlier.
She examined her current state and noticed that her nightshirt was clinging
to her small frame, drenched with sweat in several places. Resigning
herself to the condition of being awake, Willow discarded the damp garment,
wrapped herself in her robe and gathered the necessary toiletries for a
shower. Grabbing her keys, the redhead made her way out the door, closed
it behind her and walked towards the communal bathroom. Calling Giles
back could wait until after she was clean.
<*> Angel’s Mansion
<*>
For better than four hours, Uriel had related various points of his life: his arrival during the beginning of Atlantis’ Golden Age; the exceedingly long period of global strife experienced after its destruction; the rise and fall of numerous pre-Egyptian societies. He spoke of both the wonders and horrors of Egypt, Sumeria, Greece and Rome, and of the rediscovery of knowledge from the days of the most celebrated and mythical culture to ever exist. He talked of his travels through war-torn Europe and dynasty-ruled Asia; of the seemingly endless battles over territorial boundaries; of the magnificent languages, poetry, paintings, sculpture and architecture; and of the people.
In the days following the demise of the Roman Empire, Uriel had finally understood what The Lady had wished to show him: the indomitable human spirit. Cities and empires could be utterly destroyed, but there were always people gathering others to themselves to rebuild or relocate. Humans could be vicious, heartless monsters bent on mindless destruction, but they could be tender, emotional, loving creatures that wished for nothing more than to experience all that they could within the short span of their temporal existences.
When he had finished, he looked to the Chosen on the couch, noting that their earlier positions had changed during the course of his tale. Faith was still on the end closest to him, though Elizabeth was resting on her back, her head in the lap of the taller young woman. He noted that the older girl had drifted off into contented sleep, while the dark-haired Slayer fondly caressed the silken blonde locks dangling over her leg. Her eyes traveled along the rising and falling lines and soft curves from the slow, rhythmic breathing of the sleeping woman, secretly wishing that nothing would break the sanctity of the moment.
It reminded him of a ceremony he had been privileged to observe on a Greek isle twenty-six centuries past. That night, he had been witness to multi-faceted aspects of passion comparable to those in Heaven, leaving the festival with a longing for that very place he hadn’t felt since the day he Fell. Watching the two young women before him, Uriel suddenly wondered if he would even feel comfortable returning home after having lived among humanity for so long.
Faith heard him stop speaking, though she hadn’t been paying much attention for the last hour, focusing on Buffy after she slipped into quiet slumber. She looked to his shaded eyes, pleading for the same few moments alone that B had asked for in the ruined school. The former Bostonian watched as he rose silently from his chair, picking up the backpack that he seemingly kept with him at all times and walked into the late morning sun streaming onto the patio, closing the glass doors on hinges kind enough not to squeak. With only the two Chosen now in the room, she began to unburden herself, whispering thoughts that had been plaguing her the past few days.
“You know, B, I often had dreams about things like this. You and me sharing a comfortable piece of furniture, with no one else around. Some of it was kinda kinky, but most of it was just like this: quiet, peaceful, uncomplicated… ya know? I kept thinking about it, even after I went to work for the Mayor. I know you don’t understand why I did that, B. Hell, to be honest, I’m not even sure why I did it. Part of me wanted to get the inside scoop, but another part felt like I needed to fill in for Allen. He treated me like his daughter, and in his own, twisted way, I think he even loved me like one. When he asked me to kill someone, I figured it was just some demon that had double-crossed him. The first time it was a demon, so it wasn’t that different from standard Slayer business. That’s what I told myself, anyway. When I killed that professor though, without even asking for a reason, I knew I couldn’t go back. That’s why I was smiling when you stabbed me. I thought it was over.
“Imagine my surprise waking up in the hospital all those months later. I wanted to run, but that little present the Mayor left me made me change my mind. Some perverse part of me had always wanted to be you, and that device gave me the chance. I figured I’d waltz in, fuck up your perfect little life, then get as far away from the Hellmouth as possible. You know, maybe give Xander one last ride, try to make your mom and Giles hate you, seduce Willow… I would have actually tried that. I figured she would either freak out or be a hot little piece for the road, but I never would’ve guessed she was already batting for the home team. Might have been interesting to make have a sex sandwich with her girlfriend. Two blondes pressed up against a tasty little thing like Red… could’ve made nights in the dorm a lot more enjoyable for ya, B. Really was a shame they left so early. Then there was Spike. Damn, B, I don’t know why you never threw him on a hard surface and rode him until one of you couldn’t walk straight.” She looked down at the elder Slayer’s face and reconsidered her last statement.
“I take that back, B. I think I do know why. You’re all about love and tenderness and passion… shit, even Beefstick understands that much. After the crap I put up with growing up in Boston, it all became about detachment. Between my real dad disappearing early on, mom marrying some junkie asshole who managed to kill her by turning her into one, too, and my step-brother, who…” Faith paused for a moment, looking back on memories she had tried to block out since being Called. Shuddering from the horrors beginning to replay in her mind, she decided to derail that particular train of thought.
“I can’t remember the last time I thought someone honestly cared about me before today. The Mayor did, yeah, but he still wanted something from me, even if he didn’t come right out and say it. Funny thing is, I used to compare how much I thought people cared about you with how much they hated me. Being you blew away what I imagined, B, on both accounts. Red was practically willing to strap me in the electric chair and throw the switch herself. I was pretty sure Xander wanted to fuckin’ kill me, but whether it was ‘ing’ or ‘and’ I wasn’t sure. It was weird with your mom, though. She hadn’t completely given up on me, and I used her as bait in her own home. I think she could sense what I had gone through, but she couldn’t relate to it. She didn’t pity me, just seemed sad… I can respect that, at least. After we switched back, I wanted to run again, but I ended up here instead. Then I saw the light at the school, and the rest you know.”
Faith leaned against the back of the couch, casting her eyes to the patio where Uriel was sitting, reading something. She rested her left hand on Buffy’s stomach, while the right caressed the blonde’s left cheek with feather-light touches. “Actually, you don’t know. You couldn’t possibly know, even after your little road trip from sending Angel to Hell. I think this guy does, though, if he is what he says he is. We’re a lot alike in some respects. Both fallen away from our callings in life, trying to get it back together. He’s doing his job to get home; I’m doing mine to find one. You know, we forgot to let him tell us why he’s here. No prob, we’ll just wait until you open your eyes, and then…”
She looked back to the peaceful expression clearly visible on the face of the elder Slayer and began to wonder, not for the first time, if she would ever reach a day where the nightmares from both her recent and distant pasts wouldn’t haunt her sleep. Amid all the chaos this town could throw at you, Buffy had apparently managed to keep it out of her dreams. Faith watched in curious fascination as the other woman, her eyes moving beneath closed lids, seemed to experience an infinitesimal moment of that peace.
<*> Giles’ Apartment <*>
Rupert Giles was seated at his desk, pouring through several volumes of Watcher Chronicles, searching for any prior instances where demons and vampires had banded together. So far, he had recounted nearly five centuries of text, with only a single occurrence during fifteenth century France remotely related. The Anglican Church had sent a small group of enslaved minions after a Slayer of that era, trying to stop her for some unspecified reason. The girl’s Watcher did not understand the reasoning, but had been proud of the way his charge had handled herself, surviving the situation and even managing to dispose of a rather powerful vampire named Gornokmet, a known killer of Slayers.
He was currently reading journals from the fourteenth century, beginning to understand why Willow kept insisting they should update to an electronic database, when the phone began to ring. Removing his glasses for a moment to relieve the stress on his eyes, the Englishman retrieved the handset from its cradle. “Hello?”
“Giles, have you heard from Buffy yet?”
“No, Willow, I haven’t. I take it she hasn’t returned to your room in the last hour, either?”
“Not as far as I know. I stepped out for a shower, but her bag is still missing. Giles, I’m starting to get a little worried.”
“You think something might have happened to her?”
“Well, not just that, but Spike was waiting for in our room last night. He said… well, he said some really weird stuff, but that can wait. He said he had seen Faith at the mansion late last night.”
“Good Lord. If the Council finds her…”
“Giles! Forget about the Watcher’s Council for a minute! What about Buffy? Faith might have attacked her. Remember? Evil Slayer? Doesn’t go poof when the sun comes up?”
“We should investigate.”
“That’s why you’re the plan guy.”
“Willow, please. One Xander is more than enough.” He heard her give a light chuckle through the phone line before responding.
“Okay, but I’m going to call the one we have before I leave.”
“Right. I’ll get some things together and meet you at the outer courtyard in one hour.”
“Got it. Bye.”
Giles released a heavy sigh as he hung up the phone, moving to retrieve his glasses. Glancing at the array of tomes on his desk, he caught another reference to Gornokmet, dating back to late thirteenth century Italy. A Childe of his, an attractive young woman with a powerful presence, had begun uniting different factions of demons with her incredible charisma, beguiling them with ease. She was rumored to be possessed of a talented tongue, in both debate and other, less proper arenas. Giles snapped the volume shut suddenly, as a mild epiphany struck him.
“Of course, how blind could…” He cut himself short, flashing back to when that phrase had taken on a much more profound meaning. Mentally logging the insight, he began gathering supplies from around his home: a tranquilizer gun, a handful of pre-treated darts, a set of wrist and ankle shackles, a first aid kit, a crossbow, and several wooden and metal capped bolts. Placing the smaller items into a bag and the rifle over his shoulder, he stepped out the door, locking it behind him. Turning about, he practically ran over the small boy standing near his door.
“I’m terribly sorry about this.” He felt a hand tugging at the bottom of his jacket, and looked down to see that the skin was tinged powder-blue… and covered only three digits. He looked down to see a young face, vaguely human, staring up at him with amethyst eyes.
“It’s okay, mister. We’re one of the nice people. Like you.”
“That’s all well and good, but I am in quite a hurry, so if we could continue this later…” He felt the pull a little firmer, and saw the eyes begin to fill with a bit of impatience, accompanied by fear.
“She’s coming, mister. She’ll be here soon, and a lot of people are gonna get hurt.” The little demon boy let go of his coat, turning and disappearing up the steps before Giles could even begin to call after him.
“Who is coming? Who is she?” Left alone and unanswered, the ex-Watcher started moving towards his car with an increased sense of urgency.
<*>
Willow and Buffy’s Dorm Room <*>
“Got it. Bye.” Briefly hanging up the phone, Willow quickly picked the handset back up, dialing Xander’s number. She would have preferred a cordless phone, just so she could gather things while talking. The witch quickly noted that she didn’t actually have anything to gather and situated herself on her bed while the phone continued to ring. After eight rings, she decided that he wasn’t home and replaced the receiver. Grabbing a jacket to walk over to the mansion, she performed a mental checklist. Finding that everything – meaning her – was accounted for, she opened the door, only to find a certain blonde witch on the other side, preparing to knock.
“W-Willow. Hi.”
“Tara. Hi.”
Both stared at the other, as the most uncomfortable, awkward silence imaginable hung between them. Tara started to turn, preparing to leave, when she felt a hand firmly encircle her wrist. She pivoted to face the owner of that hand and met with green eyes filled with… she wasn’t exactly sure.
“We need to talk.”
“Okay.”
“But not here and now. Not that I really don’t want to, you know, ‘here and now,’ but I have to go meet Giles somewhere, so that’s why not the ‘here,’ and I’m not sure if you want to come with, and that’s the ‘now,’ and…”
“Shhh.” Tara wanted more than anything to still the redhead’s mouth with her own, but her uncertainty of the other witch’s reaction to a kiss restricted her to using the index finger of her right hand. “I’ll come with.” A piece of her melted as a smile she loved to see came from the face she often lost herself in. As her hand was gently pulled away from soft, beautiful lips, she embraced the sensations the brief contact from the tender touch she longed to feel elsewhere had elicited throughout her frame.
Willow stepped into the hall, closing the door behind her, and checked to make sure the lock was engaged. Satisfied that it was, she turned to face the blonde waiting for her and, taking the hand that had touched her both physically and emotionally into her left palm, began walking down the corridor towards the exit.
<*> Angel’s Mansion <*>
When Elizabeth Anne Summers closed her eyes, a nightmare was often waiting for her. During this particular venture into the land of Nod, there were no horrifying images, no monsters awaiting her arrival, and no scenes of her friends dying. She was simply alone, in a void tinted a soft pink, and she felt… comforted. Buffy could see no one else, but she still sensed someone close by who cared about her and, quite possibly, loved her. It might have been Riley, but she refused to speak to him since he slept with Faith. Well, technically, he had slept with her, but the other Slayer had always been about getting her jollies, not sensual lovemaking. Anya would probably use a term like ‘orgasm tools’ over ‘buddies’ to describe the younger Chosen and her paramours, since she didn’t seem to have any friends.
The coloration of the void changed, darkening to a crimson red, and the
blonde Slayer felt herself becoming flushed. There was definitely love in
the air; it seemed as though she could almost feel it on her face. She
reached out a hand to test how tangible it was, when an incredibly loud noise,
reminiscent of a shotgun blast, tore it all away.
Faith had mixed feelings about the sleeping woman in her lap, due to recent developments. Buffy had rolled over onto her left side, leaving her face a scant few inches from the leather-clad crotch of her human headrest. The dark-haired Slayer hadn’t lied when she spoke of dreams about this, but the reality was infinitely more frightening than she would have imagined. Dreams of happiness or love never came true for Faith, only the nightmares of death and destruction; her stepbrother had made certain she understood that fact. She didn’t deserve to be happy, or to find peace – that was what she had been taught growing up in Boston.
Sunnydale was different. The entire city was a living nightmare. Between the hordes of vampires and demons feasting on and terrorizing a populous that turned a blind eye to what was happening, not to mention the Hellmouth itself, it made her previous life seem almost idyllic. Here, she helped keep the nightmares at bay for other people. The question was, who could keep the personal horrors she saw every time she closed her eyes in check?
The thought was discarded as she felt Buffy shift again, nuzzling in another inch towards the younger woman’s torso and bringing her right hand to rest on the side of Faith’s hip. Warm breath began to intensify an area already reaching the boiling point as the taller woman entertained thoughts of how easy it would be to close the gap between the two sources. She was aware of her left hand moving to the back of the blonde’s head, though she had made no conscious effort to do so. It rested there a moment as she weighed what the results of such an action might be. “I’d lose any trust you had in me again, B. Do I do the smart thing and wait until you’re awake, or do I fuck it all up like I did by helping out the Mayor?” Her voice was low and husky, laced with her arousal, and scarcely louder than an errant breeze. Her hand began to resume the actions of much earlier, dotingly running fingers through tresses that seemed to demand caressing. As she did so, a mild epiphany revealed itself.
“I belong here with you, B. I know I haven’t earned the right yet, but I’ll try to make it up to you… somehow.” Her quiet speech trailed off as Faith lowered her head towards the one resting in her lap. She began approaching the upturned cheek of the other woman, close enough now to smell her skin. It reminded the dark-haired girl of the gardens at South Market during summer breaks from school, when she could escape the problems awaiting her at home for a time. She moved closer, her mouth now only half an inch away from its destination when the front doors burst open, illuminating the room and casting three shadows across the floor.
The sound startled the two women, catapulting Buffy from her slumber. She tried to sit up quickly, resulting in a painful collision as the crown of her head impacted with Faith’s chin. The people in the doorway could only stare in silent shock, each pondering exactly what they had just intruded upon. Their collective muteness was broken as the patio doors were flung open, revealing a large man striding towards them from the far side of the room, his duster flowing out behind. He stopped after a few steps, apparently taking stock of them as well.
“What, does every vampire on the planet six feet or taller own one of those?”
“Willow, considering that he just came in from the sun, I seriously doubt he is a vampire.”
“Oh. Maybe he uses really powerful sunscreen?”
“He has a tan.”
“Oh, again. But, he’s got the whole dark, imposing, menacing thing going, and Faith is here, and this is where Angel used to live, and Faith had her hands on Buffy who looked like she might have been unconscious, and… Buffy, what exactly are you doing here? With Faith?”
Uriel quickly identified two of the individuals, recalling the photographs attached to the files Malaika had given him, though the young blonde woman was unknown to him. The Practitioner and the ex-Watcher were now making their appearances in the unfolding drama, lending the impression that the situation could deteriorate rather quickly. He cast a sidelong glance at the redhead, trying to gauge how strong she currently was. His mindset changed from inquisitiveness to bewilderment, finding no trace of Magick present. No protective spells, residual energies from previous workings, or even a hint of ability was perceptible. The possibility she was somehow concealing herself made him slightly nervous: only a Practitioner of Class XX Magick or better could do that, which would mean she had been working some very powerful rituals recently to jump at least eleven classes.
Giles began to mimic Willow’s question internally, pondering as to what the two Slayers, one with her head in the lap of the other, could have possibly… and stopped there. He had witnessed such an occurrence before in his earlier years, back when ‘Rupert’ was cast to the wayside for ‘Ripper.’ Now, however, the thought disturbed him. The act itself was not the problem, merely the possible participants. Releasing a small sigh, he waited to see who would speak next. He found the pause between thought and action extremely brief.
“Buffy, who is this guy? And what were you doing with Faith?” Willow was starting to wonder if cosmic forces were aligning against her to repay the harm she accidentally inflicted during the ‘Invoked Will’ spell. First the conversation with Tara last night, then the interrupted dream, and now… what the Hell was her best friend thinking? This was Faith, the evil Slayer. The one who had beaten her up. The one who had tried to kill Angel. The one who switched bodies with Buffy not two days ago. Why was Buffy’s head in the lap of their worst enemy?
Tara stood between Giles and Willow and had two thoughts cross her mind. The first, ‘They certainly seem to be able to express themselves,’ was quickly replaced by one she found herself voicing. “W-w-waitam-minute. Faith? I’m a l-little confused here.”
“Guys, listen, this isn’t what it looks like. Nothing is going on here.” Buffy Summers was quickly on the defensive, gingerly rubbing the already fading bruise on her head as she swung her legs out to stand. In the span of a heartbeat, she discovered it was the wrong position to take.
“Right, B. We weren’t doing the whole Slayer bonding thing, you didn’t try to make me think you trusted me again, and I didn’t pour my heart out to you!” The old anger and frustration resumed its dominance in the taller woman as she rose from her seat on the couch, hurt by the fact that Buffy could so callously discard the events of the last few hours. Her refusal to stay on the couch had wounded her more viciously than even their balcony fight. “You know what, I should have just gone with my gut reaction and gotten the fuck away from you people.” She felt a hand on her wrist, but wrenched free before the other Chosen could get a firm grip. She continued to speak, though in a much softer voice. “Forget it, B. I’d just screw up all over again, and I don’t think I could deal with disappointing you twice.” Faith quietly walked towards the patio doors, casting a brief glance at the assemblage before stepping outside.
Uriel watched as the elder Slayer moved towards the doors, placing a hand on her shoulder to intercept her approach. “If you go out there now, you will only succeed in driving her further away, and there may be no way to bring her back after that.”
“What am I supposed to do, then? She needs me. I remember hearing that much, at least.”
“Go answer the questions the others have for you, Elizabeth. I will speak with Faith.” He gripped both of Buffy’s shoulders firmly, turning her about with ease. She stood there, unmoving, until he delivered a firm swat to her bottom. She turned back around, fist poised to strike. “I have a few thousand years more experience than you in dealing with people, and you are not thinking… clearly.” He had almost said ‘straight,’ but reconsidered how the rest of the conversation might go from there. “It is both a positive sign and a negative one, but the cons heavily outweigh the pros right now. Talk to the others. If Faith leaves, I will let you know immediately.”
Reluctantly, she turned around and went back to speak to the trio assembled at the door. From the looks she was receiving from Giles and Willow, the next few hours were going to be very trying.
Uriel watched the young blonde go, curious as to how she would handle them. Of the people he was supposed to help, only one yet remained unknown. He turned to watch the patio, where he noticed Faith looking through some of his papers. By the coloration at the edge of the folder, he could see it had a golden tint. His mind halted for a second, tabulating what he had seen. Faith. Looking through a file. Looking through a gold file. Looking through her gold file. “Shit!” Dashing out onto the patio, he quickly envied Buffy her role in explaining who he was to the Practitioner and the ex-Watcher, compared to the barrage of questions he had no doubt Faith was mentally preparing to ask him.
All that was missing now was Alexander Harris, whoever he was.
<*>
The Ice Cream Truck <*>
Xander was currently driving down one of the more popular streets, where he often went to fill his daily quota of frozen treats to be sold. Anya was seated next to him, quietly not complaining about the lack of sex. After the incident in front of the small crowd, she had decided to table the issue. Of course, the prospect of actually doing it in front of an audience had excited her, but Xander had said something about trying to keep a job more that a week for a change.
Arriving at the end of the block, he pulled into a parking space and killed the engine. “An, listen, I want to go to this party. I don’t get a chance to hang with Buffy and Will much any more, but I still want to spend time with you. If you feel that uncomfortable about going, we should talk about it.”
“Why should we talk? After all, you don’t find me attractive, you don’t want to have sex with me, but you would rather hang around with two girls that you’ve lusted after but haven’t been able to get into bed with you. Well, you did get Willow into bed with you, but her boyfriend found you before you ripped the clothing off each other.” Her expression changed, though it was a short traverse from jealousy to anger. “Is that it? You’ve had me and now you’re bored, like you were with Cordelia?”
Banging his head against the outer rim of the steering wheel, Xander wondered why he even brought the topic up. “No, that isn’t it at all. Anya, believe me, the sex is good. At times, it’s mind boggling, but if that’s all there is to us, we don’t have a relationship. Buffy and Willow are my friends and I need to interact with them once in awhile. As for the whole ‘getting into bed’ thing, you weren’t here yet when I had Amy cast a love spell that went SNAFU in a hurry. I could have had my way with both of them, but they’re my friends and I couldn’t take advantage of them.” He watched her expression change and wondered if he’d said too much.
“A love spell? On who? Did you want Amy, too? What is it with you and witches? Is that why you’re with me, because I used to use magic?”
He started slamming his head harder and more frequently against the steering wheel, wondering why someone else couldn’t be here, enduring what would probably be an excruciating painful question and answer session.
Chapter 4
Glimpses
“What the Hell is this?”
Uriel winced as Faith held the gold folder, shaking it in her fist. Apparently, she had read enough to know that he had intimate knowledge of every critical moment of her life, mostly involving the years she spent in Boston. “I told you who I work for. You think She would have an incomplete file on you?”
“It would make sense, yeah, but some of this shit is wrong.”
“What?!” The fallen angel was flustered by the accusation. Every assignment he had ever been given was exact to the minutest detail. “That is not possible.”
“Look, it’s my life, I know what happened. My father never touched me. He wasn’t around long enough to try.”
Let me see.” He examined the file, checking where she had mentioned. He handed it back to her soberly a few moments later, keeping his thumb at a specific point on the page. “Look at the date.”
The younger Slayer did so, the color draining from her face paled as she collapsed into one of the chairs. “That… son of a bitch. I was… I was just a baby.” She dropped the file to the ground, cradling her head in her now unoccupied hands.
Uriel watched as her body began convulsing, while droplets of water silently slipped between her joined palms. “You should know your mother threw him out… she thought telling you he left would be a bit easier on you. I am sorry she never found out what kind of degenerate the son of the other guy she married was.” He watched as she sat up straight, wiping the tears from her face before failing to regain her cool façade.
“No biggie. Already over it. Really.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. Just like I got over being cast out.” He saw a genuine smile grace her features, enticing him to reply in kind. “You were right, though. You and I are quite similar.”
“I guess… wait, you listened in on what I was saying?”
“Not intentionally, no. I have very acute hearing.” He watched as she began to regard him with caution, and listened to the subtleties in her tone as she made her next query.
“Exactly how much did you hear?”
“All of it. Nothing will be said to Elizabeth if you wish.” Her expression remained impassive, but he continued on regardless. “How long have you known?”
“Known what?”
“That you might be in love with her?”
Faith rose quickly from her seat, knocking back her right hand to deliver a punch directly into Uriel’s jaw. She watched his face, noting that neither his tone of voice nor his expression had indicated any sort of mockery. Sighing, she lowered her arm, dropping once more into the chair behind her. “I thought She looked down on that sort of thing.”
“You are kidding, right? That ‘proclamation’ was handed down from a group of ignorant people lashing out in fear at a concept they were unable to grasp. Everyone claims to understand love, but very few people actually ever have. Why do you think so many religions want to ignore reincarnation? Because it suggests that not everyone gets to rest after their time here; that you might have to come back to settle unfinished business or learn something you failed to or ignored last time; or that you and your soul mate might come back as the same gender.”
“Soul mates?” The dark-haired Slayer seemed to weigh the idea for a moment, but stopped as her companion interrupted the thought.
“I am not saying you and Elizabeth are soul mates, Faith. In addition to that, some soul mates never become romantically involved. There are three pure forms of intimate relationships: loves, true loves, and soul mates.”
“Okay, so what’s the diff?”
“Since you asked so nicely…” He caught her grinning from her seat and placed himself in the other chair opposite her.
“Loves are people who meet while here and fall hopelessly for each other… at first. The soul rarely comes into play in this type of relationship. Some of the people getting married these days tend to fall into this category.”
“Kinda explains the high divorce rate.”
“Hardly. A high number of those marriages are born of either blind, animalistic urges that occur in two people at the same time or are marriages of convenience. Those people tend to get the idea of loves and lovers confused.” He waited for a moment for a response from her. Observing an impatience in her eyes, he continued.
“True loves finding one another is a great rarity, even in this well-connected day and age. They are often two souls with similar experiences and personalities who find each other in an attempt to move towards completion together. They tend to have similar backgrounds, goals, personalities… they compliment one another on virtually every level.”
“Okay, so maybe B and I fit into that category?”
“I cannot honestly say, though your dissimilar personalities tend to make me think otherwise.” Taking her silence as a cue, he moved onto the final classification.
“Last are soul mates, which are an entirely different story. The chances of two soul mates encountering one another is higher than you would expect since they inadvertently seek each other out. These are two souls who offset each other, one possessing what the other does not and finding greater power by joining together than being apart. This is the classic story of two forces melding into one – yin and yang, for example.”
“So B and I might be soul mates?”
“Possibly. What you need to understand, Faith, is that the kind of completion soul mates can give one another can also be a driving force that keeps them apart, as well. You two seem to carry some of the traits, but I have seen instances where two such people are never friends, let alone more than that. In fact, some of the foremost rivalries in history were between soul mates.”
“Shit. Are you telling me to back off?”
“Of course not. Well, not right now, anyway. When I start training you…”
“Hold up. Training me?”
“Remember the comment you made that I never mentioned why I was here?” Uriel watched as she gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. “Well, another dark force is on its way with every intention of catching all of you off-guard.”
“Hey, we’re Slayers. We were born to deal with that kind of sitch’.”
“You have been in a coma for eight months, and given your shoddy combat performance last night…”
The taller Chosen stood at that remark, visibly offended. “‘Shoddy?’ I was doing a pretty good job of kickin’ your ass.”
“Yeah, you did really well for someone beating on an unmoving target.” The fallen angel took to his feet slowly, leveling his gaze at the dark-haired woman in front of him. “I could have blocked every last one of your attacks. With my eyes closed.”
“You wanna go right now?”
As he caught the mirth in her eyes, his ears detected a sudden, overwhelming silence in the conversation occurring beyond the patio doors. He was prepared to listen more closely when Faith charged him, apparently ready to begin her first session.
<*>
Angel Investigations <*> Los Angeles, CA <*>
Cordelia Chase was currently seated at her desk, attempting to gain a better
understanding of the office computer. Angel had no clue, Wesley was
barely any more help, so she resigned herself to turning to the one source
available to her for assistance.
“Tech Support.”
“Yes, hi, I seem to be having a slight problem with one of your computers.”
“Could you hold, please? Thank you.”
“Wait, I…” Sighing in resignation, the brunette began to take stock of her life, rather than suffer the indignity of listening to the muzak droning in her ear.
A few years ago, the words and phrases people used to describe her usually included shallow, vain, self-centered, and materialistic. What most of them never considered was the concept that she might, like many others, wear a mask.
Everyone saw who the ‘bitch-queen’ in full glory took it as Gospel, never bothering to check if anything lay beneath the surface. Cordelia acknowledged to herself that a few years ago, there wasn’t.
Her life began to change when Buffy Summers transferred to her high school. As with any newcomer, the tall, toned brunette immediately greeted her in full attack mode. To her mild surprise, Buffy never backed down from the challenge, which only made her increase the amount of derisive remarks directed towards the blonde and her friends. Had she known at the time she would become an integral part of the ‘loser squad’ she often insulted, or that her father would cause the downfall of her social status, the former cheerleader might have been less vindictive. Then again, probably not.
One thing Cordelia missed about having money: lack of waiting. In all honesty, it was one of the many things she actually missed about having money. As the muzak continued to lull her into a catatonic state, she contemplated how much capital these companies made by charging you as much as the phone sex lines per minute of ‘help’ you received. Unlike the smut though, you could be expected to not receive your money’s worth. In the back of her mind, she pictured what the rooms with these ‘technicians’ looked like: rows of side-by-side desks with phones and PC terminals, conspicuously empty, though all the lines had people on hold – while the workers stood around the coffeemaker, gabbing about their weekends, families, and sexual conquests.
“This is Maxine, how can I help you?”
The sudden appearance of a voice brought Cordy out of her trance. It also triggered another migraine that she had vowed to one day properly thank Doyle for.
“Miss? Miss, are you all right?”
Panting from the severity of the vision, the struggling actress found enough ragged breath to speak. “Yeah. Fine. Gotta go.” She hung up the phone, completely disregarding the fifteen minutes she had just spent on hold. Drawing on her reserves, she spoke one more word at the top of her lungs. “Angel!”
As the door to his office was flung open, she looked to see the face of the familiar ensouled vampire standing there, concern visible on his features. “Cordelia, what is it?”
“Trouble.”
“Who?”
“Buffy.”
“Road trip?”
“Looks that way. But this time, we’re all going.”
“Cordelia, you know…”
“Look, this isn’t by choice. You know how much I love the idea of revisiting Sunnydale without a starring role in a major movie playing.”
Passively accepting defeat, Angel responded. “Okay. What about Wesley?”
“Call him. He needs to come with.”
“That bad?”
“Remember the demon army when…”
“Yeah.” The memory of the loss suffered was powerful enough without mentioning his name. “They’re back?”
“No. But whatever is coming makes them look like the Boy Scouts.”
“I’ll call Wes.”
“I’ll call Giles.” She caught his stare and furrowed her brow in response. “We are going to need a place to stay.”
“Um, Cordelia, are you forgetting I have two different places?”
“No, but those of us still alive enjoy waking up to sunlight.”
Making a noise akin to a sigh, Angel walked back into his office to call the former Watcher under his employ.
<*>
Angel’s Mansion <*> Sunnydale, CA <*>
To say that the conversation between Slayer, best friend, and Watcher was not going well would be an exceptional understatement. In the first five minutes, no one had said anything. After that, the dialogue had exploded, swiftly beginning a descent into chaos.
“Buffy, if you knew Faith was here…”
“Giles, I only found out when I ran into her at the school.”
“And you didn’t see fit to contact us?”
“I didn’t know she was going to be there, Giles.”
“Buffy, why did you leave so late?”
“I don’t know, Will. Why weren’t you back when I left?”
“That isn’t the issue.”
“It sure seems to be the issue. What, I don’t need to know where you are, but I have to tell you where I’m going?”
“Buffy, please. We were merely concerned for your safety.”
“My safety? Seems like you’re more interested in who I’m socializing with these days.”
“At least Riley isn’t trying to kill you.”
“No, but the Initiative did and you’re still upset I was hanging around with them for a few days.”
“All of a sudden they were more important to you than all of us. We’re supposed to be best friends, but it felt like you were just tossing me aside.”
“Really? So, why is it that the first I even heard of Tara was during the whole body-swapping debacle? Hi, Tara.”
“H-hi.”
“Had you actually bothered to notice I was gone, rather than spending all your time with Riley, maybe I would have introduced you sooner.”
“Ladies, please, could we just…” The ex-Watcher found himself cut short by both his former charge and the redhead.
“No!”
“Buffy, I’m worried about you. We never talk anymore.”
“That isn’t entirely my fault. Kind of hard to have a heart-to-heart with someone when they aren’t around.”
“So you just decided to be all buddy-buddy again with Faith?”
“It isn’t that simple. She needs my help, and this time she’s willing to accept it.”
“You didn’t have to come back here with her, you know. They are better places to talk to her. Like a jail cell.”
“Will, you don’t understand…”
“Of course I don’t, Buffy! She’s evil! She tried to kill you!”
“I know, but… it’s complicated.”
“Buffy, I don’t see why you couldn’t have contacted us.”
“See? Even Giles knows she’s evil!”
“Willow, that isn’t what I said.”
“What is wrong with the two of you?”
“Us? Buffy, she tried to kill you, Xander, and Angel… and you had your head in her lap!”
“I can explain that.”
“Do go on.”
“Um… I was tired?”
“You were sleeping? With Faith?”
“Hey!” The voice of the blonde Slayer dropped a few decibels after that comment, causing the others to work to hear her next statement. “I was just using her leg for a pillow.”
“Uh-huh, right, and I’m sure that guy with the really long braided hair outside with her is just some big, cuddly bunny-hugger.”
“No, an ex-angel.”
The sudden silence that followed that statement was deafening. When it ended, scarcely ten seconds later, the voice that shattered it was not the one expected.
“W-what?”
The more experienced Chosen looked to Tara, who had barely been acknowledged in the course of the argument. “An ex-angel. Well, to be more accurate, a fallen angel, but I guess I should let him explain it to you.” Turning to see how the outdoor conversation with her younger counterpart was going, Buffy shielded her eyes as the man in question came flying through the glass patio doors. The younger Slayer quickly followed, casting her eyes downward to her sparring partner.
“Now who needs training?” Her gaze turned to the others currently in the building, then to the glass littered on the floor beneath her feet. “Oops.”
“Faith, what are you doing?”
“Be calm, Elizabeth. She was simply practicing her ‘attack while they’re distracted’ technique.”
“Sorry about the mess, B.”
Giles stood in mute shock. Willow was doing a wonderful impression of him at the moment, while Tara seemed to be unsuccessfully trying to avoid the scope of Uriel’s vision behind the petite redhead. She noted her actions to be fruitless, given that he had apparently decided to track her movement from his place on the floor. She watched as he stood, casually brushed away fragments of glass clinging to his clothes, and began walking towards her. Well, towards all three of them, but his eyes seemed to be focused on her.
The dark-haired former angel stood before the trio, though the blonde had captured his attention. He could swear knew her from somewhere, if only…
“You’re an angel?”
Uriel looked to Willow, glimpsing the mixture of tentative awe and prominent disbelief accompanying the question. He had seen the look many times in his travels, though there seemed to be a hint of hope involved this time. “I used to be one, yes.”
“So, what’s God like?” Giles doubted the validity of the dark-haired gentleman’s identity, though he did reflect on the cynicism of it. He, along with most people, could readily accept the notion of demons and other forces of evil, but anyone claiming to be from the other aspect of the supernatural was obviously insane.
“The Lady is…” He paused for a moment, searching for a word comprehensive enough. “There are scant few mortal words which could vaguely describe her, though they are all from a language which has been dead almost as long as I have been down here. The only word which could possibly do Her any sort of justice is unpronounceable with corporeal limitations.” His face gained a peaceful, ethereal countenance as those assembled in the room were transfixed by the thought locked behind the ancient eyes of the Fallen.
The redheaded witch was unable to tear away as well, until she felt a warm sigh ripple along her right shoulder, caressing it from behind. She twisted her torso clockwise slightly, observing a mirrored look situated behind Tara’s gaze… though there seemed to be a tear attempting to escape the bonds of her left eye. She decided that the inquiries would have to wait until later, as the tallest person in the room resumed speaking.
“Yet another topic for later. Ms. Rosenberg, Mr. Giles, I need to speak to the two of you, as well as both of the Slayers.” Uriel gestured towards the sitting area of the main room of the manor while expressing his next thought. “If everyone would be kind enough to take a seat, I will explain why I am here. Faith, would you bring in the chairs from the patio?”
“Why me?”
“You need the exercise.” The others in the room watched the staring match between the younger Slayer and the former Angel of Death, silently wondering when the physical aspect would accompany the mental struggle being waged. All save Tara were surprised to see Faith turn and walk towards the shattered doors, as though she knew who would win the argument.
“We’ll see who needs the exercise.”
“Big talk, coming from the ‘Mistress of the Cheap Shot.’ ”
From over her shoulder, Faith increased the ante of the verbal jousting. “Cheap? If you weren’t so slow, you might actually be able to avoid a shot or two.”
“This from the child who was unable to kick me hard enough to make me fall over.”
With a chair under each arm, the former Bostonian came storming back into the main hall. “Do I look like a ‘child’ to you?” She dropped the chairs onto the stone floor, causing a small clatter to reverberate throughout the room. She placed both her hands on her hips, swaying slightly and arching her back, accentuating her feminine charms and stimulating two occupants of the room. “Does a ‘child’ tend to look like this?” She watched as a smile crept across his face and wondered for a moment if she should be more wary about his presence in her life.
“Let me think for a moment. I have known 14 year-olds with larger breasts, fuller hips and greater maturity, Faith. Then again, I have also met people who never seem to grow up. The question to consider, youngling, is do I consider you a child for physical or psychological reasons?”
“See? I’m not the only one who thinks she needs a psych evaluation.”
“Fuck you, Red.”
“Faith…”
“Yeah, B?”
“Let it go.”
“Why? She won’t.” Turning to face her detractor, Faith retaliated with recollected sentiments. “What was it you said? You’d like to go at me in a locked room with a few grenades?”
“Faith…”
“B, what don’t you get? No matter how pissed off at you she might be, Red’ll find a way to make it my fault as long as I’m around. She wants me dead.” Casting her head to the floor for a moment, she inclined her view back to the most recent addition to the unusual group of people. “You used to do that kind of thing professionally, right?”
“We already had this conversation, Faith. I will not kill you, nor will I allow you to die.” Casting a brief glance about the assemblage, he emphasized his next phrase. “By your hand or any other.” The silence that followed as he offered the chair he had previously occupied earlier in the day to Giles assuaged his concerns for the time being. “If you would all sit, I shall unburden myself.”
Giles accepted the place offered him, while Faith picked up a patio chair in each hand, offering one to her fellow Chosen. They seated themselves to the former Watcher’s right, with Buffy taking the closer position to act as a median zone. The two witches, seeing no other options available, dropped onto the couch, with Tara residing in the place Faith last had. With no other seats available, Uriel simply stood in the space before them.
“First off, I wish to introduce myself formally. I am Uriel and, as Elizabeth mentioned, I am a Fallen, as well as an Intervention Specialist for The Lady.”
“So, you were cast out of Heaven like Lucifer, but we are to believe that you are here to assist us?”
“Mr. Giles, I understand your reluctance, but I can assure you that I am here to aid you.” Looking over the motley ensemble, he amended his statement. “All of you.”
“C’mon, U, spill already. Red’s getting kind of fidgety being in the same room with me.”
“I was about to, Faith.” Furrowing his brow as his gaze narrowed, the next words from Uriel sounded more like a feral growl than normal speech. “And don’t call me that again. Ever.”
“Whatever you say, Urie.”
“‘U’ is fine, Faith.” The dark-haired speaker shook his head, silently cursing the forces in the universe which placed him on this assignment. “Yesterday, a friend of mine delivered several detailed files to me pertaining to the two Slayers and the group you affectionately call the ‘Scooby Gang.’ Another file gave me my mission assignment, which gave me vague directives as to how to aid each of you.”
“Um, what do you mean by ‘directives?’ ”
“What I mean, Willow, is that I was told that you each require something in order to defeat an approaching evil presence.”
“You mean Adam?”
“No, Elizabeth, someone you are not already aware of.” Not wanting to worry them too much, he decided to tell them only part of the prophecy. “It said that while facing a known enemy, an unknown one shall appear and cause the fall of the Slayer.”
What, that one of us is going to die?” Faith gave him a slightly incredulous look before redirecting it to Buffy.
“Been there, done that, not looking forward to repeating it.”
“Buffy!”
“What, Giles? How many times have I faced down Death and defied him?”
“Her.”
The blonde Chosen shot a lethal glare at the tall stranger, to which he replied with a wry grin. “Whatever. I can handle this.”
“We can handle it, B.” Reaching over and taking her counterpart’s right hand in her left, Faith gave a gentle, reassuring squeeze. She was rewarded with a gentle smile as the shorter girl turned her way, apparently happy for the support. The moment was short-lived as the former librarian switched into Inquisition mode.
“So, what exactly can you tell us about this unknown threat?”
“Honestly? Nothing, other than that it should be arriving in Sunnydale by the end of the day. Who and what are answers I was not provided with. As for why, the only thing I can tell you is that Fate and Destiny have a hand in this.”
“Oh no.” The two words were barely louder than an exhalation of breath, but Tara knew Uriel had heard them as he turned to look her way. As the expression behind his black shades turned from scrutiny to awareness, she knew he had finally recognized her. Taking the initiative, she stood and walked to his side, whispering so that only he would be able to hear. “Outside. We need to talk.”
Uriel nodded his head solemnly, then addressed the others still seated. “If you will excuse us for a moment.” He noticed the slightly confused stares from his left, but the most perplexed one was from the redheaded Practitioner… which worried him greatly. If she was as strong as he thought, making her angry would definitely not be conducive towards his continued existence. Turning his back cautiously, the ex-angel watched as the newly-recollected blonde opened the left entryway door, stepping outside to await his arrival. Feeling no hostile mystical energies building behind him, the duster-clad individual released a sigh of relief and followed her into the sunlight.
As he stepped out the door, Uriel found himself being transported elsewhere
as the air around him shifted and rippled.
“What do you suppose that’s about?” Buffy was curious as to why Uriel was speaking with Tara. It seemed as though they knew each other, which further piqued her interest as to when the newest member of their small circle had run into him before.
“I don’t know.” Willow was pondering the same question as her roommate, though there was an accompanying notion that she barely knew this blonde witch who seemed to occupy a special place in her heart… possibly even her soul. “I… don’t know.”
The stillness that followed that statement allowed the two Slayers, the redheaded witch and the former Watcher to consider for a moment what they had allowed the others to know about themselves.
Giles reflected on how his lifestyle had changed since being relieved by the Watchers’ Council. He now had the time to focus on things he used to enjoy, such as playing his guitar and singing. Thinking back to the days when he was known by and large as ‘Ripper,’ he became aware of how little the people who now hoped they could trust him knew about him. The reckless, unbridled years he spent attempting to forget his path had never been spoken of, though the group had seen glimpses during the band candy incident and the few times Ethan Rayne had made his presence known. Giles decided that after this challenge, he would divulge all they wished to know of his past, if for no other reason than to be aware of what proverbial skeletons might still be lurking in his expansive closet.
Buffy often confided her concerns to either Giles or Willow, though she kept some of her deeper fears hidden from them. Her emotions after the incident with the Master had been the first time, when she concluded that being ‘the Slayer’ was a curse, not a blessing. She had tried to push them all away to prevent them from either being dragged down with her or one day resenting her. For all her abilities and training, someone would always suffer, though it was often a nameless face she could stay detached from. Fear was her greatest loss of control, and in order to survive, she needed to stay in control. The one time she let her walls down, that knowledge had been used against her… by Angelus. Though both sides of Angel were now gone, the threat had imprinted itself on her psyche. From Professor Walsh’s class, she knew internalizing this would eventually cause a breakdown. She considered the idea of finding someone new to confide in – Riley, maybe even Faith – would probably be a good idea, but not until after Adam and whatever else awaited them had been dealt with.
Willow had a number of things she used to keep to herself, from her crush on Xander when they were younger to her interest in Magick. When she began to work more powerful and complex spells with Tara, which meant a greater risk of harm to herself or others, maintaining silence about their activities was automatic. She had claimed earlier that she and Buffy were best friends, but she never expected it to be redirected back to herself. She told herself the reasoning behind the secrecy was to prevent her friends from being concerned, though she knew the image of the meek, helpless little girl others had imposed on her throughout junior high and high school had been shattered in their eyes. Still, most people had no clue as to who she had become, with her old designation being forced upon her by an unaware society, including her own parents. The redhead contemplated what the two individuals who had given her life would think if they knew about her relationship with Tara. That thought spawned an entirely new set of questions, the most repetitive one asking Willow to define her emotions involving the blonde witch. Though she was certain of the answer now, she wondered if a day would arrive where she felt comfortable enough to express to everyone exactly how she felt about Tara, including herself. She decided that she would tell her as soon as the blonde returned… though she might wait to tell Buffy and Xander.
Faith cast a glance over at Buffy and realized there were volumes she had yet to share. She couldn’t understand the willingness of her fellow Chosen to take another chance, especially given their history. Though hopeful, a nagging section of her subconscious kept reminding her of the results when someone had that kind of faith in her. The dark-haired young woman smiled briefly, the irony of her given name amusing her as it had many times in the course of her life. No one knew who she was. Giving consideration to that last thought, she started to wonder if she ever even knew ‘Faith’ herself.
<*>
At the End of a Relocation Spell <*>
Uriel shifted his gaze left and right, absorbing the beauty of the vista he now found himself at. White, snow-covered peaks exceeding a kilometer in height surrounded him, shining from the luminescence of a billion stars and a waxing crescent moon. A chill wind ruffled the edges of his coat from behind, coaxing small tufts of powder onto his exposed heels. Turning to face into the wind, he caught sight of the person that had transported him here. Slowly walking to stand behind her, the fallen angel gently placed his right hand on her corresponding shoulder.
“Feeling a little homesick, were we?”
Keeping her eyes directly ahead, the witch known as Tara spoke. “You actually recognize the view?”
“Why would I forget? Your mother and I had many conversations from atop Mt. Ziria. Mostly about you, I might add.”
“There are days I really miss talking with her.”
“When was the last time you spoke with her?”
Releasing a heavy, visible sigh into the frigid air, the young blonde woman gave her reply. “Before the war.”
“You mean the one I was witness to?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. Been a few years then.”
“Yeah. I almost called her a few weeks ago, but I think she’d be disappointed with my choices in life.”
“Why would you think that?”
She finally turned, tears crystallized on her cheeks from the cold winds around them. “With all the gifts I have, what have I done with them? Nothing.”
“Mentalities are completely different from when your mother was active in the world. She felt things begin to change even before you were born.”
“Is that why she left our ancestral home?”
“One of the reasons, yes. She also wanted any children she had to grow up outside of a place where the legacy consisted of treachery and deceit.”
“I guess I should call her, but I’m afraid of what Willow might think.”
“Have you told her anything yet?”
Resting her chin against her torso, she responded quietly. “No.”
“Well, that does explain why you changed your birth name to some degree.”
“Not that she would be able to place it, anyway. Have you ever seen reference to someone named ‘Thyra’ anywhere?”
“Not that I can remember, no. Then again, I have yet to meet someone with that name other than you. A benefit of being unique, I suppose.”
“Uriel, please, you can’t tell any of them. Especially Willow.”
He looked into her eyes, which seemed to have changed to a crystal blue beneath the azure sky above them. “She means that much to you?”
“I’m not positive yet, but… I think so.”
“Okay, ‘Tara,’ but you have to promise me something.”
“Sure.”
“Things may turn very ugly in the coming weeks. At some point, you may have to tell her.”
“I know. Destiny visited me just after the Winter Solstice last year. I’ve also had a few visions recently, but nothing to glean any useful information from.”
“Is that why you came? Because of Destiny?”
“Not exactly. She told me I would become involved in a Decree she and Fate had passed, but she never asked me to come to Sunnydale. That was entirely by choice. On an odd note, did you know she and…”
“Last I heard. Talk about an unusual couple.”
“At least they’re happy together.”
Noticing the sadness growing in her eyes, he redirected the conversation. “Well, if this is any consolation, it gives me some peace of mind to know a familiar face will be around.”
“What are we going to tell them?”
“The truth. You reminded me of your mother, and you recognized me from when you were a little girl.”
“How did you recognize me, anyway?”
“To be perfectly honest, when you first walked in with Willow and Mr. Giles, I had no idea who you were.” He took a step back, taking her all in for the first time. “You look so much like your mother when she was around your age. You have that same fire behind your eyes.”
“How did you know what she looked like? I thought you couldn’t see through that blindfold.”
“That was only for walking around in public. Your mother understood what I was, so it was unnecessary in her presence. She asked me to wear it around you since you were still coming to terms with your heritage. She and I both agreed any excess confusion in your life was not something you needed back then.”
“Well, I guess we should thank whoever invented sunglasses. It’s nice to see you blend somewhat for a change.” Tara took one last look around, a sad smile developing further with each recalled memory. “She loved coming up here, you know? Just to escape from all the insanity for a time.” She felt an arm snake around her shoulders, pulling her into a comforting hug.
“We need to get back there before a brawl breaks out.”
Nodding at her old family friend, Tara made two brief somatic gestures,
causing the pair to disappear from the mountain peak.
Atop an adjacent summit, a woman with ankle-length gray hair let a gentle smile grace her features, which appeared to have weathered no more than fifty years. “Stay well, my precious Thyra.” She turned and began her descent from the wind-swept precipice, when an ebony-skinned woman of obvious grace appeared before her.
“Don’t worry. Uriel still remembers the promise you made him swear.”
“Thank you, Malaika, but I knew he had not forgotten.” She regarded the current Angel of Death with a tender smile, as though sharing a secret between them. “I am nearly ready to join the rest of my estranged family on the other side, once Thyra is ready to accept her inheritance.”
“You think that will happen soon?”
“When is ‘soon’ to ones such as us? A decade, a century… when you have seen as much time as we have, ‘soon’ is a very vague term, dear girl.”
“I can only grant you a short while longer.”
“I know.” The stately matron released her own sigh, though her breath remained hidden from perception. “Whether or not she decides to accept what Destiny has in mind for her by the Winter Solstice, I shall go with you. I have spent more than enough time here on this particular visit.”
“As you wish. Would you care for some company on your walk down?”
“No thank you, Malaika. I would not want to keep you from your duties.”
“Take care of yourself, then.”
“I shall.” With that parting, the woman began her descent down the mountain as Malaika simply vanished in a wisp of pale smoke.