Ten Years Later by Paul Leone (NovusSibyl@aol.com)
Rating: PG-13 - some violence, adult language
Summary: Ten years later, Buffy's friends have to prevent a cult from
resurrecting the vampire that killed her.
Type: Action/Adventure
Author's Note: This story was originally written after the third
season finale. Naturally, its back-story became obsolete by
Thanksgiving of 1999. While I don't care much for the fourth season
of Buffy, this new version of Ten Years Later does loosely fit into
the evolving canon. History takes a left turn somewhere during Buffy's
sophomore year at college, however, and events thereafter won't match
the two series.
Thanks must go to my collaborator Teresa for helping me brainstorm and
edit this, and generally putting up with my inanity. Not an easy task
by any means, believe me. Also, I crave feedback. That's
NovusSibyl@aol.com. Thank you. Push the button, Frank.
Disclaimer: Buffy, Faith, Giles, Willow, Cordelia, Spike, Oz and
Xander are the creation and property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
Mira Roukas is mine, however.
Part I - Dinner at the Mayor's
------------------------------
The usual shakes start right after I turn off Route 17 and onto Miller
Road. I keep telling myself that next time I'll take Main Street
instead of the shortcut, but every time I find myself driving right
down Wayfare Lane.
As soon as I see the two-story house half-hidden by trees, the sobs
start and I start remembering. All the times I slept over there, all
the parties and planning sessions... the time we all went there right
after -
Stop it. I will NOT go through this again. Not tonight.
I guess all those therapy sessions weren't a complete loss. By the
time I pull into the Mayor's driveway, I'm mostly composed. I take a
minute to clean myself off and put on my game f - happy face.
Typically, I'm the last one to arrive. The Mayor's BMW is out front
and that ratty old VW that the Pastor drives is on the grass. I can't
help but smile at the little slice of chaos in an otherwise stiflingly
impeccable front lawn. It's so typical of her.
And then I'm at the front door and that annoying little motion-sensor
doorbell goes off inside about a half second before one of the butlers
- Dennis, I think - opens the door for me.
"Ah, come in, Professor. They're in the dining room," he says with a
smile, holding out his hands for my coat.
I shake my head. "I'll keep it, thank you."
Dennis - or whoever - nods and vanishes into the woodwork. Literally,
I realize with a shudder. He's a ghost. I wonder if she - of course
she knows. She's the Mayor.
And speak of the Devil. There she is, in all her trademark Saks Fifth
Avenue glory. Drunk, too, ahead of schedule, judging by the embarrassed
look on the Pastor's face.
"Hey, Willow darling," she slurs, confirming my guess, and clumsily
hugs me. "You look - well, very Willowy. Very academic."
"Hello, Cordelia," I say, gently pulling myself out of her hug. God!
She must have started early. Her breath reeks of alcohol. "You look
good." She does, too, which I'm sure is something that thrills her.
Vain little bitch. I could tell her stories about my nightmares that
would make her pretty hair turn white.
She smiles and staggers back to her chair, somehow managing not to
spill the glass of wine in her hand. You have to admire the talent
there.
"It's good to see you, Willow," the Pastor says, squeezing past
Cordelia and giving me a quick hug. Even after all this time, it's
still awkward. But I return the hug, forcing myself not to think about
bad memories.
"Hi." It's all I can manage.
The Pastor smiles sadly. She understands. I hate her.
As always, we start out with small talk. "So, how was the drive up
here?" Cordelia asks in one of her more sober moments. "Did you see the
new stadium?"
Wonderful. Such tact. The Pastor almost spits out her club soda - no
alcohol for her, smart girl - and I just manage a nod.
"Yes, I did. The Richard Wilkins Memorial Stadium." I hiss out the
name. Old habit.
Cordelia nods brightly. "It's all politics, Will. Election year."
Will. I almost tell her I'm voting for Moreau in November just to
see how she reacts. "Could you - please don't call me that, Cordelia."
"Sorry, Will-ow," she says, stretching out the 'ow' with drunken
finesse.
Mercifully, the Pastor changes the subject. "How's school, Willow?"
I smile for real. "It's great. I've got some wonderful students this
semester. And it looks like the Dean will grant me tenure next fall."
"That's excellent news. You're doing wonderful work, Willow, really."
She smiles at me and I wish she'd just shut up, and I hate myself for
it. She's a priest, for God's sake. But why does she have to be so
nice to me? It would be so much easier to hate her if she was even a
little bit rude.
After that, things settle down a little. Dinner - Veal Parmesan - is
served by Dennis, which mildly amuses the Pastor for some reason, and
we eat mostly in quiet. Naturally, the meal is superb. Fringe benefit
of being friends with the Mayor #5 - one night out of the month you can
eat something that doesn't come out of a box. The food helps Cordelia
sober up a little, thankfully.
Naturally, it's when things are finally approaching normality that the
Pastor drops the bombshell.
"I'm having dreams again."
Cordelia, as usual, reacts first. "Oh, that's so lovely, dear. I had
this wonderful dream about Haley Joel Os - "
"I mean *dreams*," the Pastor whispers, a pained look on her face.
That's when I catch on. "Prophecy dreams?" I ask, hoping against hope
that I'm wrong.
Of course I'm not. She nods and stares down at her empty glass before
speaking again. "They started last week. I didn't think anything about
it, really. It's been so long since I had one, I half-forgot what they
were like. But then I had the same dream again the next night, and the
night after that."
From the look on her face, they weren't happy dreams. I can't help but
feel a little gleeful and guilty at the same time. "Tell me about them.
What did you see?"
"Images. Crazy images all strung together. A house...vampires. I
think. A lightning bolt. And a rainbow. More, but I can't remember
them or put words to them."
She's right, it's crazy. I can't think of any supernatural phenomena
relating to lightning bolts and rainbows. "Anything else?"
She shakes her head. "Nothing. I'm sorry. I never was - very good at
that side of the lifestyle." She almost said 'as good as' and then
caught herself, I think. Nobody here wants to bring that up.
"I'll dig into the books. There might be something useful."
"Thank you. I know that this is important somehow. A call... " her
voice trails off and finally she just shrugs. "The way will show
itself, I'm sure."
Proving she's not asleep, Cordelia chirps up. "Maybe it's got
something to do with the new Slayer in town."
"New Slayer? Coulda mentioned that earlier, C," the Pastor snaps.
Funny how she regresses whenever she gets angry.
Cordelia smiles slyly. "Mayoral privilege, sweetie. S'my job to keep
things under control."
"You sound just like Snyder, Cordelia." Snyder and that bastard
Wilkins, but that's another name we don't like to bring up.
"She's drunk, Willow, don't be too harsh."
"Don't you start! She's got no right keeping things like that from us
of all people."
She squeezes my shoulder, just hard enough to push me down into my
chair. Some things you never forget, I guess. "Willow, please. Arguing
won't get us anywhere." Then, to Cordelia. "What new Slayer?"
Cordelia shrugs. Dammit, why can't she sober up? At times like this,
I almost regret renouncing the black arts. I could cast a spell that
would sober her up fast.
"What am I, a phone book? Some girl. The cops have seen her around
town the last few days, killing vampires." She clumsily pantomimes
stabbing. "Dark hair. Pretty in a street urchin kind of way. The
usual."
"We'll have to find her. She must be part of it. It can't be a
coincidence that my dreams started just when the Slayer arrives in
town."
For once, I agree with the Pastor. Damn it, Cordelia, you should have
told us earlier. Should have told us as soon as you found out. "I'll
ask around. I bet Willie knows something."
"Willie? Oh, please. I ran that sleaze ball out of town," Cordelia
sneers.
"Ran him out of town?"
"You bet. Do you have any idea the kind of clients that cesspool he
ran attracted? He's lucky I just revoked his liquor license." Her eyes
light up with genuine disgust. "We don't want that kind of people in
the new Sunnydale."
"You're drunk," I finally manage to say. The Pastor just sighs and
shakes her head. It must be hell for her. Cordelia sounds just like
that snake.
"You know that Willie has helped us in the past," the Pastor adds,
trying to steer the conversation back to slightly safer ground.
Cordelia sneers at both of us. "I don't care about your little
after-hours crusade. I have to keep this town neat and tidy."
"There are some things more important than looking good for the Triple
A Guide, Cordelia."
"Oh, please. Grow up. This isn't high school any more. This is the real
world. I don't have time to run around playing Slayerette," Cordelia
hisses. "Some of us have non-fantasy jobs."
"I don't think there's any point in continuing this conversation," the
Pastor says after a ten-count. "I wish you luck in November, Cordelia."
That makes one of us.
I should stay and try to talk some sense into Cordelia, but I know it
wouldn't do any good, so I just mutter a goodbye and follow the Pastor
out into the front lawn.
She's already inside her car by the time I get there.
"Hey! Wait!" Very suave.
"I thought you'd try to wring some details out of Her Honor," the
Pastor says after rolling down the window.
"Why bother? She's a completely different person now, I can barely
even believe it."
The Pastor grins and shrugs. "Yeah, I've heard that can happen to
people. Look, it's late. You should go home. Hit the books or
something. I'll call you tomorrow. Maybe I'll have another dream
tonight." Her grin fades as she considers it. Obviously the dreams
weren't very happy at all.
"I could hack into the police network, see if they have any files on
this new Slayer."
"Yeah... be careful, okay? I have a bad feeling about this."
"Don't worry. I'm still Net Girl." I feel like its high school again
for just a second. Then I remember all the reasons it's not...
"Just like old times, huh?" she asks, echoing my thoughts.
"Yeah. Just like...I'll be in touch if I find anything out."
"G'night, Willow."
"Good night, Faith."
I'm actually in good shape on the drive home until I see a teenage
girl kicking the crap out of a pack of vampires in an alley behind
what used to be The Costume Shop.
To my credit, I'm switch into autopilot instead of breaking down again.
I'm out of the car, wooden stake in hand, before I even realize what
I'm doing.
Not that my hesitation causes any problems. There were eight vampires
when I slammed on the brakes and only three left when I get out of the
car.
The nearest one never sees me coming. I trip it with a garbage can and
stake it. I can just feel my adrenaline pumping like it hasn't in ten
years.
As for the last two vampires, I can't help myself. I stop and watch.
At first, it looks like the usual John Woo/Rene Boigny duel,
but then the Slayer jumps back and pulls out a gun, some kind of big
ugly machine pistol. The vampires don't have a chance - whatever kind
of bullets those are, they do the job. Both vampires are dust in as
long as it takes her to pull the trigger.
Look at me. I'm feeling sorry for vampires now. But still - Buffy never
ever needed a gun. Except against the Judge, but that doesn't count. He
wasn't a vampire and it wasn't really a gun. Whatever happened to a
good old-fashioned staking?
Aside from that, it's a decent technique, but where are the puns? Kids
these days have no sense of tradition.
And there we are, staring at each other. Mexican standoffs give me the
creeps, so I break the silence.
"So... I take it you're the Slayer I keep hearing about?" Not my best
line, but I have gotten better since the old days. At least that's
what I tell myself.
She nods and stows the gun in her coat. Leather. What is it with
Slayers and leather? "You should go home. It's not safe after dark."
Funny accent - Greek, mostly, but there's something else there I can't
place. Macedonian, maybe, or Albanian, or something.
What the hell should I say to her? Hi, I used to be best friends with
a Slayer, but she died saving the world and now I teach Computer
Science?
Fortunately, maybe, the girl takes advantage of my hesitation to do a
back flip right over the chain link fence behind her. I'm still gaping
like an idiot when she hightails it around the corner.
Well, that was brilliant. I can't help laughing. She must have thought
I was completely out of my mind.
Great. This is all too much for me. I'm going home, where it's safe
and comfortable.
Part II - Reunions
------------------
The next day goes relatively normally. I take a couple stabs at the
police network, but can't find anything. They either don't know
anything or have seriously upgraded their security. Or both, I guess.
I do a little checking on the things the Pastor mentioned from her
dream, but no luck there, either.
Naturally, she calls me up I give up hope of finding anything useful.
"Hey, Willow. What's up?"
"Um... hi, Faith. Nothing. Just, you know, doing the hacker thing."
"Any luck?"
"No. I did have a run-in with the new Slayer last night, though."
A five-second silence, then "Oh. What happened?"
"Nothing. She killed some vampires. I stood around like a fifth
wheel. Then she ran off."
The Pastor laughs softly. "Jittery, isn't she?"
"I guess."
Awkward pause takes over.
"So did you have another dream last night?"
"No. I'm not sure if I should be thankful or worried. Worried,
probably. There's something that's been bothering me. The
rainbow..."
"What about the rainbow?"
"That's the problem. I don't know. But it's worrying me. I think it
might be important."
"Maybe. But I haven't found anything in any of the books." I don't
tell her I was up until four AM giving my Classical Latin skills a
good workout.
"That doesn't necessarily mean anything."
I glare at the phone. She's still an annoying bitch sometimes.
Especially on those too-frequent occasions when she has a point.
"Okay, you're right. I could do some more poking around, see if any of
Giles' old index volumes have anything."
I can hear the wheels turning in her mind as soon as I say Giles' name.
And sure enough... "You know, Willow, Giles took a lot of his books
with him... there could be something there."
"Yeah. But I haven't talked to Giles in almost five years, Faith. I
don't even know where he lives."
"He still has the winery in Sonoma County."
It's just so ironic that Faith, of all people, knows that for sure
and I don't. "Fine. Just say it, Faith."
"Say what?"
"Say that you want me to go crawling to Giles for help."
"Now wait a second, Willow, that's not what I was going to say." Five
seconds. "Okay, I was thinking maybe it would be better if you want
than if I did, but I'm not going to beg you to do it."
"Okay, I'll do it."
It's good to know that I can still make Faith speechless. It's petty,
but that's about all I have these days.
"Well, uh, good...Let me know how it turns out."
"Yeah. I guess I should leave now if I'm going to be back tonight."
"Okay. Drive carefully."
"Yes, mommy. I'll call you later, okay?"
"Uh-huh. Bye, Willow."
I hang up without saying goodbye. Sorry. I'm in a hurry. Really.
I'm already on the Interstate when it occurs to me that I probably
should have called ahead. How do I even know Giles is in the country,
let alone at home? Of course, actually having his phone number would
be helpful. On the good side, the day can't get much stupider, right?
Right.
It starts out well. I make good time on the Interstate and it's still
light out when I reach the little two-lane road that goes into wine
country.
I love Sonoma. Maybe I'm jaded, maybe it's just Sunnydale, but you
just don't see bicyclists who wave at you instead of giving you the
finger anywhere else. It's even warm enough to roll down my window -
the one that works - and feel the breeze as it ruffles the grass and
the leaves on the trees.
It's so Giles-y, like God made the town just for him. And the sign on
his little winery - West York Winery - looks like it's been there for
years. Maybe it has. I never asked Giles about it before we stopped
talking, really.
So now what? I haven't seen Giles in almost five years. I'm getting
the shakes just standing at his door. I should have stayed in therapy
longer, I guess.
The door swings open, sparing me further misery.
God. He looks exactly the same.
"Willow! What - why - who - "
Sounds the same, too.
"Hiya, Giles. Mind if I come in?"
"Oh! Of course. Wait. No. Why are you asking?"
"Huh?" What the hell is he talking - oh, for the love of God. "Giles,
it's still sunny out." Fine. I hop over the threshold. "Happy? Still
alive and soulful, see?"
"Yes, well, good." He starts to hug me, then just shakes my hand.
"What brings you to Sonoma, if I may ask?"
"I was hoping you could tell me, actually."
"Oh? How so?"
"There's this - dreams - and Faith. A rainbow."
Giles' eyebrows ratchet up another notch. "I see."
"I mean, Faith thinks she had a prophetic dream. Something about
lightning. And a rainbow. And the new Slayer. Maybe. I couldn't find
anything in the books you gave me and I was hoping that you had
something here because I think it's going to be really important."
"Same red hair. Same voice. If she didn't look so serious, I'd think
that was my Wills talking."
Oh, my *God*. I didn't even see the shadow lurking behind Giles in the
dark foyer. But a tall young man steps out of the dim light and -
"XANDER!"
I nearly knock Giles over in my haste. No wonder he was surprised. Two
of the old gang showing up on his doorstep at once....
Xander and I must have been hugging each other a little longer than
decorum decreed, going by Giles' polite cough in the background. I
haven't seen the man in nearly ten years, not since Buffy....well, not
since a few days after that. I've gotten postcards over the years. One
from Toronto, a few from Europe, and one from South Africa, of all the
improbable places for Xander to end up.
He's changed.
I realize it when I step back and almost run into Giles again. It seems
like he's gotten taller, or maybe he just stands straighter. He's got a
black leather jacket on and a scar across his cheek; his hair's been
cropped short, it's already got a streak of grey in it, and his eyes
are... darker somehow.
"I knew it had to be Willow," he says with a sad smile. Giles puts his
hands on my shoulders - I knew I was shaking, but I didn't realize how
much.
"He's been here for a few days," Giles says softly.
"Came in on the midnight train from Georgia," Xander nods. He's so
grown-up. Xander wasn't supposed to grow up. He's supposed to be a
slouchy, tousle-haired goofball. "Had to look up Giles while I was en
route. He convinced me to stay." That same lopsided smile, as if he
doesn't remember how to really do it anymore. "Well, the wine
convinced me."
"Thank you," Giles says wryly, then lets go of my shoulders. "Come,
you must be tired - are you still living in Sunnydale?"
Of course I am. Someone has to keep an eye on things there. "Yeah."
"You drove up in a single day?"
"It's really, *really* important."
Xander starts to agree with me, but Giles puts up a hand. "I know you
wouldn't have come if it wasn't - oh good *Lord*, I didn't mean it that
way - I just meant - I hadn't heard from you - " He shoots a pleading
look at Xander.
"He doesn't get out much," Xander says with a dark grin. "Come on. We
were gonna head out to look at the vineyards when you arrived. Let's
hit the library, we'll talk it over there."
I still shiver when he puts his hand on the small of my back to guide
me up the stairs.
It's a lot like the high school library, really; a little smaller, but
I just know that it's probably most of the second floor - knowing
Giles, he has a closet bedroom so that he can fit more library space
in. The last of the daylight filters in through huge floor-to-ceiling
windows on one side, and Xander drops into a chair that's just in
shadow.
"What about you?" I ask, as Giles excuses himself for a minute. "Ten
years, Xander. *Ten years*. You could have sent me an address."
Xander shrugs. "I guess I never really had one."
"What did you *do*?"
"A little bit of everything." He glances down at the tabletop. "A
little bit of nothing. I ah... I meant to write. More often. I...
hell."
"What?"
"I used to buy things to send to you - I just never ended up sending
them. Except the postcards. There's still an authentic Kenyan dance
mask sitting in an apartment in Johannesburg somewhere, waiting to be
mailed."
"So you did have an address."
"Not mine. A friend's."
"Since when do you have friends in South Africa?"
"Since a lot of things happened, okay?" he snaps. "I've got a lot of
friends in strange places now."
"Such as Sonoma," Giles puts in, returning with a bottle of wine and
three glasses. "You're only allowed one glass, Xander."
"Killjoy."
"You're not fighting tonight, you only need one." Giles is firm. About
what, I'm not sure, but I don't even know if I want to ask anymore. I
don't want to get a bad answer. "Willow, would you like some?"
"Not much... thanks." I accept the quarter-full wineglass and stare at
the dark liquid, trying to come up with the words to explain the last
few days.
"This was the first pressing. Not a bad concoction." Giles grins
wearily. Has everyone forgotten how to smile? "Now. Your reasons -
Faith's dreams."
"Hang on a second. Faith as in psycho Faith? Jailbird Faith?"
"Yeah. Well, she's better now. She's a priest."
"Okay, I know I'm sober, so I must be losing my hearing. You didn't
just say Faith was a priest... did you?"
"Faith has changed quite a bit since her prison sentence."
"Faith, a priest?" Xander just gnaws on his lip. "Prison must have been
hard for her."
"She says she saw God."
"Really really hard."
Giles coughs. "Be that as it may, I doubt she'd make up something like
this."
"So what is the 'this', anyway? Lighting and rainbows? Not the usual
demonic preview."
"Well, it could be any number of things. Lightning is a common element
in supernatural events, of course. Rainbows, though... That sounds
familiar somehow." He walks over to one of the bookshelves at the far
end of the room and pulls down a dusty leather-bound book that must
weigh fifteen pounds. "Let's see what this has to say."
"Ooo! The Seleucian Sibyl. I didn't know there were any copies outside
of the Watcher archives in London."
"Yes, well..." Giles fidgets and flips through the pages. "I somehow
forgot to return it when I left the Watchers."
"You bad boy, Giles. I bet there's a huge overdue fine."
Giles just smiles. "Ah! Here we are. I was right." He pokes one of the
entries towards the back of the book. "Fragment number 415. What do you
think?"
I stare down at the text and squint a bit, then shrug. "Um, it's all
Greek. Ancient Greek."
"Oh. Oh! Yes, of course." Giles picks the book up and recites the text.
"When Athena's heir takes up her sword, there shall - There's a bit
missing, unfortunately. But it carries on. The children of Hades shall
cry out as one and Hecate will rain her arrows upon them in her wrath,
but the sleeper shall arise upon the blood of the slain unless the
champion of the rainbow and the keys - and that's where it stops."
"Well, that's cheery. Incoherent. And so helpfully ending right at
the important part," Xander says with a scowl.
"That's true, but it does at least tell us that Faith's dreams do have
some significance. Now we merely need to discover whom the sleeper in
question is, and who the champion is, and...I'll see if there's
anything in the Lancer Commentaries." He gives a strained smile and
retreats to the shelves.
"Still loves his books, doesn't he?"
"You can take the Watcher out of Giles, but you can't - no, wait. You
know what I mean."
"The scary thing is, I do." He takes a long sip of wine, then smiles.
"God, I can't believe how you're all grown up now, Wills."
If you hadn't run off, you'd have been there with me, Xander. I just
smile and nod. "You look - older. What have you been doing all this
time? I demand details!"
Xander's smile just shrivels up and dies. He stares at his wineglass
for a few seconds, then shrugs. "Well, for a while after... all the
stuff, I was a wreck. I ended up living with my Uncle Rory for a
while. Then I just left. Got on a bus heading east and ended up in
Baltimore." He steals Giles' wineglass and finishes it off. "This
stuff is great. Where was I?"
"Baltimore."
"Oh, right. Baltimore. This was probably four months after I left
Sunnydale. I... well, really long story goes there. But basically I
ended up almost becoming a midnight snack for a vampire..."
"And?"
"And I kicked his pasty little ass. That's when I realized that I was
actually good for something."
"Killing vampires?"
"Bingo. Five years with... five years in Sunnydale knowing what was
*really* going on, it teaches you a few things."
"Tell me about it." That wine keeps looking more tempting. Xander pours
us both another when he finishes his.
"I cleaned up Baltimore pretty quickly. Second-rate, the lot of them.
Plus there were only five or six in the city. After that I went to Canada
- you wouldn't believe the bastard demons they've got up there. I always
thought Canada was quiet and boring. That Due South show betrayed me, I
tell you."
"Okay... So, what, you're like a guy Slayer?"
Xander shook his head. "Not really. I'm not super-strong or, well,
super-smart, but I do what I can. I spent a couple years in England -"
"England?" I don't like where this is going.
"Yeah. I, um... I got some professional training there, kind of got me a
mentor."
"A mentor? Who?" I ask as my stomach sinks down into my toes.
He jerks his head towards the bookshelves. Fuck. I hate it when I'm
right like this. "We ran into each other in some little hick village
in northern England about seven years ago. Who knew one of his old
college buddies lived right on top of a Hellmouth? He taught me a few
tricks, some weapons stuff, and then I headed across the Channel to
France. I asked him not to tell anyone."
"You bastard." Must be the wine that's stopping me from breaking his
neck. That or my lack of upper-body strength.
"I know, Wills. I'm sorry."
"You *bastard*."
"Willow..."
"Sorry." I hate this. I hate Faith for making me come out here. I hate
Xander for being here, for ten years without even a fucking phone call.
I hate Giles for not telling me. "Go on."
"Not much more to tell. Wandered around Europe for about five years,
busted up a few vampire nests, killed this really slimy...
worm-thing... in Estonia, then I got word of a big hellmouthy deal in
Johannesburg. Turns out it was nothing, but I got sidetracked with
some jungle demons and stayed in Africa for a while. They've got
vampires that make the Master look like a kitten, you know. Came back
to the States - I really did just come from Georgia. I was on my way
to.... hell. Sunnydale. I didn't think I was, I thought I'd hit San
Francisco, but ten *years*, Wills. I got homesick."
What the hell does he want me to say? Ten years without even a phone
call. Why didn't you take me with you, Xander? I would have come. I
would have dropped it all to go with you rather than stay here and
pick up the pieces after Buffy died. I just nod and squeeze his
shoulder.
All I can do is smile and hope I don't start crying. "It's good that
you're back."
"It'll be just like the old days, Wills. So what about you? What have
you been doing all this time?"
"Oh. Well, I finished college and got a job teaching Computer Science
at the new high school. Oh and some nights, I go out to hunt vampires."
God, I really am pathetic, aren't I? I don't need to go into the
therapy and string of failed relationships of all sorts.
"Still kicking butt! That's my Willow."
Your Willow? I'm this close to calling him on that little gem when
Giles comes rushing back.
"Ah-ha! I found it!"
He slams another book down on the table, shaking up a cloud of dust
thick enough to make me gag.
"According to Lancer's annotation, the original oracle was verbal, as
most were, but a written version was made some years later. In the
second century BC, some over-zealous pagan copyists altered it - the
proper names have all been changed to those of Greek gods. But the
Watchers managed to get one of the originals. Athena appears to
indicate some kind of semi-divine warrior, which would make her heir a
Slayer, one assumes. Children of Hades is obviously a reference to
vampires."
"What about the rest of it?"
"According to Professor Lancer, it seems to be a prophecy of a ritual
of resurrection."
"Vampire resurrection?"
"Precisely," Giles says, a satisfied look on his face.
"But which vampire?"
Poof! There goes the satisfaction. "Well... of course, there's no way to
know for sure. It must be a powerful vampire to inspire this sort of
loyalty among its followers, of course."
"Great, that really narrows it down, G-Man. Not like we didn't kill
about five hundred of them over the years."
"Xander... It's okay, Giles." Crap. It's almost eight. "I have to go.
I've got papers to grade by tomorrow or the Dean will have my head.
I'll call you if anything comes up, okay?"
"Okay. Be careful, Willow."
"I will."
Giles gives me a quick handshake, then goes back to his books.
"I'll, uh - I'll show her out, Giles."
"Hm? Oh, yes, quite." Then he's back in the shelves.
Even with the streetlights, it's almost pitch black outside on the
street. I can barely see Xander.
"Where are you staying?" I hear myself ask after a few awkward
seconds.
"Giles has a spare room. I've got a sleeping bag. Match made in heaven,
right?"
"Yeah..." That of all things does it. I'm glad it's dark - he can't see
me crying. "I'll call you guys tomorrow, okay? I wish I could stay."
"I wish you could, too," he says in a strange, soft tone of voice.
"Good night, Xander." I pretty much run to my car and tear out of the
parking lot, out of Sonoma, before I can get second thoughts.
Part III - Cold Dark Places
---------------------------
Considering my state of mind, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. I
must have gone eighty all the way home - all the way to here, anyhow,
sitting in a stopped car on the side of the road with police lights
reflecting in the rearview mirror and a tall, gangly officer bending
to look in the driver's side window.
"License and registration, ma'am - " He gasps for show and holds his
hand over his heart. "Oh, saints preserve me! Could it be? Is it
possible?"
Oh, fuck me. What is this, freaking reunion weekend? "Spike."
He leans on the door and pokes his head through the open window, a
sick smile on his face. "You have any idea how fast you were going
back there, little missy?"
I sigh and reach for the cross I've got wedged between the seat and
gearshift. He shakes his head and gives the car door a good thump.
"No need, Witch Woman." He's behind the times. I quit that Wicca
stuff years ago, right after Buffy... after that. "Though I could ask
why you're speeding and crying at the same time. Not safe, that."
Goddamn his super vampiric eyesight. "It's none of your business.
Thanks."
"I could write you a ticket."
"Then fucking write it, okay?" I know I'm pushing it, but it's been a
long day. "I'll send the goddamn check tomorrow. Just leave me the
hell alone."
"Hey hey hey, is that any way to talk to an old sparring mate? I'm on
the side of law and order now, you know. Got me a badge and
everything."
"A badge? What crackerjack box gave that to you?"
His smile makes me want to vomit. "The one named Cordelia Chase."
"Cordelia? Oh, come on."
Spike smiles again and shows off his uniform. He's so goddamn smug, I'm
tempted to shove a cross into his eye socket. "Honest. I'm head of the
bloody Special Security Detail. Got a badge and a gun and everything,
luv. And I can kill and eat all the lawbreakers I want as long as I
keep it quiet. If I'm 'specially good, she orders me a yummy cheerleader
for dinner... "
Jesus, Cordelia... what happened to you? Angel was right. "So what the
hell are you doing pulling speeders over?" Why do I even believe him?
Shouldn't I be surprised and in denial?
"Tut tut, no need to be surly. You're all sorts of out of character
tonight. You were going awfully fast back there, and if I remember the
old Willow right, she wouldn't even go a mile above the speed limit.
For that matter, she couldn't drive at all..."
"You didn't answer the question."
"Honestly? I was waiting for you."
"Waiting for me."
"Honest. You've been poking your nose in books again, haven't you?
Wondering about lightning and rainbows, maybe?"
I'm gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles are turning white. "What do
you know about it?"
"Oh, me? Nothing. I'm just a dumb bloody cop. I think I'll let you off
with a warning this time. You just be more careful in future, ma'am."
He turns to go, knowing I'll ask and savoring the misery.
"Spike, *please*."
"What was that?"
Goddammit, I should break one of Faith's holy water bottles over his
face. "Please tell me what you know, Spike."
"Now that's better. It's quite simple, really. A pack of filthy little
troublemakers are planning on raising up your old chum Louhi. Been
nosing around, even stole a book of black magic right out of the
Mayoral library."
Oh, God. God, no. Faster than I ever thought I could, I slam the stick
into D and floor the gas pedal.
"Hey!" Spike topples back and yells something else, but I'm already a
block away and making the turn onto Williams Circle.
Good thing Queen's Hill is only a mile away or I'd get pulled over for
real. As it is, I almost run over a stop sign before I screech to a
stop in front of the main gate.
It's not locked in any serious way - the owner probably gave up after
it got smashed open by vampires coming up one too many times. I just
push it open and slip in, cross and stake ready.
All alone in a cemetery in the middle of the night. Panic makes you
stupid, I guess. I don't even have a flashlight or even a cigarette
lighter. But that's okay. I've been here enough times that I don't
need one. And no vampires or demons ambush me from the darkness.
Section 5, Plot 45 - right under a pair of oak trees that get bigger
every time I visit. The cross is still there, a lighter spot in the
darkness, even if I can't read the inscription. I know what it says
anyway, though.
Then there's a soft click and a spot of light appears a few feet away.
I almost kick out, but I'm tired enough to give my brain a chance to
take over at the last second.
"God! Faith, that's a bad habit."
Faith shrugs as she lights the cigarette. "These are the clean kind,
don't worry."
"You know that's not what I meant."
"Sorry," she says with a smile that looks weird in the flickering
reddish glow of her cigarette.
"So what are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you."
"Oh." Then it hits me. "How'd you know I'd be here?"
She gets a funny look on her face and exhales a thin cloud of smoke.
"Someone told me you'd be coming."
I hate it when people get cryptic. Bad enough when spirits of the
outer darkness do it, but humans - priests especially - should be more
polite. "Faith, I'm not in the mood for twenty questions. Spill."
"I was told that you'd be coming here and that I should go meet you."
I've heard her use that tone of voice before.
Great. Faith and her Joan of Arc complex, just when I need her sane.
"Why?"
"Dunno. So why are you here at this hour?"
I start to tell her about Giles - and Xander - and what Spike said,
but at that point, a gang of vampires rudely interrupt and attack us.
I'd like to say that we kick ass, but the vampires got the drop on us.
And in our favor, there are ten of them. I take a bit of smug pride
when Faith goes down first, practically buried under seven vampires,
but three seconds later one of the vampires smacks me on the back of
the head and everything gets dark.
I wake up chained to a stone wall and manage not to scream. Not that
impressive, though, since nobody is sticking me with red-hot pokers or
anything.
It looks like they stuck us in a big cave. There's a fire going in the
middle, big enough that I can kinda see most of the cave if I turn my
head - they were nice enough not to chain my neck, too. Scratch that
wall, though - I'm stuck to a stalagmite. About ten feet away, Faith is
in the same boat. Ten feet to my right is the new Slayer, finding new and
creative uses for Greek. What I understand makes me blush.
"Can you keep it down? You're not helping my headache," I hiss in less
than perfect modern Greek.
"Who are you?" she asks in that weird dialect of Greek, then rattles
the chains a bit. They hold. Dammit.
"Willow Rosenberg. I'd shake your hand, but..." Rattle rattle.
She smiles a bit. Good. She's not in shock or drugged. Maybe the
vampires weren't as smart as I thought. "I'm Mira. Mira Eudoxia
Roukas."
"Hi. We have to stop meeting like this."
Another smile, some more rattles until she's red in the face.
"Shh. You'll just let them know we're awake."
"Right." She looks so disappointed. Why do Slayers always want to
break things? "What happened?"
Great. So much for me asking her. "Don't you know?"
"If I knew, would I have asked?"
Good point, even if it does lose points for rudeness. "How long have
you been here?"
She tries to shrug, but what with the chains, it just looks silly. "A
few hours. Perhaps more. I only woke up before you came."
"Great."
At this point, Faith wakes up with a moan and - naturally - starts
rattling the chains. "Son of a... grr." I can practically hear her
counting to ten, then say "Willow?" in a scary - bad scary - tone of
voice.
"I'm here, Faith."
"Any idea where here is?"
I shake my head. "Probably somewhere near the ocean. I think I can
hear the waves. Are you okay?"
A long silence.
"Faith?"
"I'm bleeding from the head, I think. Nothing serious. I'm not dizzy."
Great. Assets - one ex-Slayer with a head injury and one current
Slayer chained up tight. And one rapidly panicking computer science
teacher/recovering witch. Debits - at least ten vampires who want to
kill us in order to resurrect a five thousand-year-old vampire
sorceress. The odds are not good.
My gloomy musings are cut off when a door somewhere across the cave
opens and two vampires in black robes - typical - come in, dragging
someone between them. It's too damn dark to see who it is as they're
chaining him - her? - up against another stalagmite. Then the vampires
glide back out without a word.
We all kind of stare at each other for a few minutes, or at least I
think we do since I can't even see the new person. The fire is
starting to die down.
The silence lasts until the newcomer tests the chains. "Huh. Good
quality. Gotta admire professionalism like this."
Oh, God, this is getting just too weird. It can't be - no, it has to
be. Who else would it be? Still, I have to be sure. "You sound like
someone who knows from shackles."
His head bobs up - I think. Something moved, at least. "Huh. Three
Sunnydaleites. I'll swap you our present predicament for the
assurance that you're who I think you are."
"OZ! Oz! It's me, Willow!" Rattle rattle rattle. "And Faith."
"Not in the same body, are you? Because I was told this was just a
plain old blood sacrifice."
Same old Oz, God bless him. "No, Faith's over there. Say 'hi', Faith."
Faith mumbles something. She never really liked Oz that much.
"Hey Faith. Who's Victim Number Three?"
"Mira. Mira Eudoxia Roukas," she calls out in that weird-ass Greek
accent. "I'm the Slayer."
"Cool. I'd shake your hand, but - " Clank. "You know. Sorry."
"I forgive you."
Oh, brother, they're bonding. "So how'd they get you, Oz?"
"Ambushed me after a gig I did in New York City. They got me in the
bathroom at LaGuardia and stuffed me on a charter flight. Et voila.
How about you?"
"They hit me and Faith at the cemetery just now. They were lucky, we
were stupid."
He doesn't ask what Faith and I were doing at the cemetery, just
grunts. Fame hasn't changed Oz much, I guess.
"How about you, Mira Eudoxia Roukas?"
Good question. Wish I'd thought of it.
I can actually hear her blush, I swear to God. "I was just coming out
of the shower at the hotel when they ambushed me. I only killed four."
Four? Sure, Gun Girl. "With what? Your brush handle?"
"Yes," she says, so matter of factly I know she's not lying.
"Oh." Okay, maybe the guns were more of a laborsaving device. I
should just keep my big mouth shut and get us out of here. Somehow.
Before the vampires come back and kill us all so Louhi can come back
to life and take over the world.
That didn't help.
"Does anybody have a plan?"
"It would help if I knew what was going on," Mira points out. Creepy -
aside from the accent, she sounds almost like Buffy. Her words, not
her voice, I mean.
"It's your usual vampire resurrection via human sacrifice," Oz answers.
"The ritual requires all the people who were present when the vampire
died in order to work. Which doesn't really explain you, though. You
were still using training wheels when Louhi died."
"Training wheels? What?"
"Didn't the Watchers teach you English?" I snap. She gets a funny look
on her face, but before either of us can say anything, Faith blurts out
"The rainbow!"
"What?"
"She's the rainbow."
"Mira's a rainbow?"
"Uh-huh." She tugs at the chains a bit, then turns towards me. "From
the book."
"Right. Hang in there, Faith. We'll get out of this."
"How? You have a plan?" Mira chirps in.
"Still working on that, sweetie," I hiss. The truth is, I have no idea
what to do. I should have listened to Spike - not flown off like an
idiot - or at least swung by the house to pick up some real weapons
first. Or called Giles and Xander.
Giles and Xander. Where are they? The vampires don't have them yet. I
hope.
God, don't even think they got captured, you'll -
That's when I hear the gunfire.
Part IV - The Rainbow
---------------------
Gunfire? What the fuck?
"What was that?"
"Was that a - "
"Did you hear that?"
"QUIET!"
They shut up. Heh. Still got it.
Of course, by this time, the gunshots - or whatever - have stopped.
"Shit. Mira - any luck with the chains?"
Rattle rattle rattle. "No. I'm sorry."
Great. Just freaking great. We're going to die. The vampires are going
to come back and kill us all and then Louhi will rise and kill everyone
else. And what kind of morons want to resurrect the Master's grandsire
anyway? She'll probably eat them first of all.
"Miss Rosenberg!"
"What?"
"Calm down, please."
Who the hell is she to tell me to - calm down, Willow. Deep breaths.
There's a clatter from above, like when they brought Oz in. This
time, there are six vampires and two people, trussed up and being
dragged more than walking.
The worst part is, I know who they are before I even see them.
"Hiya, Giles."
"Hallo, Willow."
"Hey, Wills."
"Hi, Xander."
"Hey Giles."
"Hello, Oz."
"Hi, Giles."
"Good to see you, Faith."
"Xander."
"Faith."
"Hi, lady."
"Hello, sir. Sirs."
Enough already! "I hate to interrupt such thrilling conversation, but
maybe we should try and get out of here?"
"Well, I'm open to any plans you have, Willow."
"Yeah. 'Cuz our plan didn't work well really."
Xander sounds funny. I hope he didn't get hurt. This is - God, please
don't let us die.
"It perhaps would have worked if you weren't drunk," Mira snaps.
Drunk? Oh, fuck, Xander. I should have figured it out. We really are
doomed.
"Drunk is good," Xander mumbles. He's probably close to passing out.
"Demons... they can't read yer mind if you can't think straight."
"I'm sorry, Willow," Giles says softly, over Xander's mutterings. Yeah
thanks, Giles. He's always sorry, but there's nothing sorry can do
about it.
"How much has he had, Giles?"
"Willow..."
"How fucking much?"
Giles sighs. "I'm not sure. Two or three drinks. More than I thought."
"You let him do this?"
"Yes, well I didn't have a choice much, did I?"
Oz rattles his chains, urgently. "Bickering ending anytime soon? I'd
like to get cracking on one of those really great escape plans we used
to come up with all the time."
It's Faith's turn to be morbid. "Good luck. Those were Buffy's
department, remember?" she asks, not quite managing to keep the
jealousy out of her voice.
"She sure had some half-assed plots in that brain of hers." Xander
again, slurring even more than before.
"What, are you on some kind of alcoholic IV drip, Xand? You're getting
worse by the second."
"Losing the adrenaline rush. Buffy... she was great. She coulda kicked
ass. She coulda saved us." He sniffles. "Not me."
"Oh, *do* let's get nostalgic," Giles snaps.
"HEY! Everybody shut UP!"
I haven't heard Oz yell in years. I almost forgot what it sounded like.
His voice echoes back weirdly and I wonder if that's a werewolf thing,
or just the acoustics down here.
"Oz is right. We'll never get out of here if we don't stop acting
like teenagers. Giles, Xander, does anybody know you're here?"
"No, I'm afraid."
"Great. Dammit, why couldn't you stay away?"
"We were trying to save you. Maybe some gratit - grati - thanks, huh?"
"Xander, we were safe until you showed up. They couldn't have killed
us or else their ritual wouldn't work."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Hey, wait. It won't work anyway. We're not all here," Faith says
after a second. "I mean, I wasn't even around when this Louhi was first
killed and - well, Buffy was still alive."
"For a few minutes," Xander mumbles, then perks up. "Yeah! You're
right!"
"I wish," Oz says, a pensive frown on his face. "The vampires gloated
about it on the flight out here. That's what the new Slayer is for.
They're gonna use her life energy to substitute for Buffy." He glances
at Mira. "Sorry."
She shakes her head. "The vampires actually told you their plans?" she
asks, trying not to laugh. I guess it's a good thing someone finds the
hidden humor here.
"Yup. They tend to do that, you know."
"They never talk to me," she complains.
I try to tell them to shut up and come up with a plan, but even as I
open my mouth, the vampires, all ten of them, come back. The tallest
one, who looks barely human, even for a vampire, is carrying a long
red knife and a wooden jar covered with some kind of runes. Louhi's
bones must be in there, but God only knows how they got them. There
wasn't much left of the house after that last fight.
Doesn't matter, really. Time's up. We lose.
"Who wants to die first?" the lead vampire, the one with the knife,
asks. How polite.
I can't help but giggle. Neither can Faith or Mira or Xander. That
just pisses them off, but since they're about to kill us, who the fuck
cares?
"You. Slayer."
Faith snickers. "Which one? There's two of us."
"Three, if you count the time Buffy and I switched bodies," I point
out.
"What? When did that happen?" Faith asks.
"Sophomore year, after you went up to LA. It was really kind of neat."
"Silence. Take her," he says, pointing at Mira with that knife. "Her
blood will tear the veil between worlds and call out to our Dark
Mother."
"Dear Lord, don't let those be the last words I ever hear," Mira
mutters as a group of vampires unchain her.
"Your tongue will go first..." the vampire leader snarls, running his
finger along the blade of the knife. As he does, there's a rumble - it
sounds funny, like it's coming from far away, but the ground shakes
slightly.
"What the - ?"
The leader turns and laughs at me. "Merely a storm! Your false godling
seeks to strike us down, but nothing can prevent the rising!"
Godling? What -
"Wait a moment and you'll see what my God can do," Mira says in a
whisper so soft I can barely hear her.
"What?" the vampire asks, leaning close. "A last request?"
"Yes. Die." She tears her arms free from the vamps holding her, then
shoves the palm of her right hand into his face. And then the vampire's
head explodes.
What happens next is - well, I can barely describe it. Mira dances
around the vampires - not literally, of course, but she moves so
gracefully it's almost like dancing. Somehow she gets a hold of a
torch and starts burning the vampires. At least that's what I think
at first, then I realize it's not a torch that's burning - it's her
hands...
"The rainbow..." Faith murmurs, catching on about half a second after
I do.
Mira's hands are shooting jets of flame like an acetylene torch - green
and blue and yellow and red and white jets are arcing out and catch the
vampires like dry kindling.
They're screaming. I've never heard a vampire scream before. But I
don't feel sorry for them. All I do is think of Buffy and I start
grinning like an idiot as their dead flesh burns and melts every time
Mira so much as pokes one of them.
And then, just like that, it's over. The last vampire goes up like a
firecracker - pop pop pop - and then dusts out. Mira pants a few times
and stares at her unharmed hands. The fires shorten and then die down.
"Bitching."
My head is racing, I can't even be sure who said that. Maybe it was
me.
Someone rattles their chains. "Little help here?"
Xander. Figures.
"Yeah, get us out of here!" That was me.
"So... that's it? I was thinking something more climatic," Oz says
while Mira works at breaking my chains. Sweet that she thought of me
first. Or maybe I was just the whiniest.
At that point, the door that we were all pulled through explodes.
Considering the door was solid iron as thick as my wrist, that's
pretty impressive.
"That works," Oz says when the boom-boom-boom echo stops.
A man in combat armor - flak jacket, helmet with Plexiglas visor,
all that crap - steps through what used to be the door. He's carrying
a rifle that's almost as big as I am. The goon stops and stares down
at all of us, then starts laughing. Oh, just perfect. I know that
laugh.
"Great timing, Spike."
The vampire stops dead in his tracks and lowers the big ugly rifle
he's carrying. "Oh, bloody priceless. I should take a picture."
"Who is this?" Mira asks, a grimace on her face. She must sense him.
Buffy could do that for the last few months.
"Hello, what have we here?" Spike asks in return, smiling down at her.
Oh, God, this is going to get bad. "You must be that precious new
Slayer I've heard all about."
"He's a friend of ours. A really good friend," I say, hoping the
others will play along.
Of course they do. And of course Xander screws it up after a couple
minutes.
"Yeah. Real old, real pale kinda friend," he says as Mira is breaking
the chains holding him to the wall. He's the last one still tied up.
"What?" Mira drops Xander and he slips, still held up by one shackle.
"You're a vampire?" she snarls, dropping into a fighting crouch.
"That's right! I'm the meanest damn vampire in town and it's been too
bloody long since I killed a Slayer to prove it." That badge must be
getting to his head.
"Not today, worm," Mira snaps back, then frowns and reaches out for
the wall to steady herself.
"What? What's - " That's when I feel the tremors. A cloud of dust falls
down on us all from above.
"Oops. Looks like it was a load bearing door," Spike says, glancing up
at the cave ceiling as tiny rocks start to come tumbling down. "Well,
my work here is done. Ta-ta!"
"Damn you! Come back here, you filthy - "
Damn, she's fast. She's already halfway to the bottom of the stairs
before I can get a word in.
"Mira! Stop."
"What? He's getting away!"
"Xander! We can't get him loose."
She stares longingly up at the doorway, but only for a second, then
races over to help us, dodging falling rocks and not even getting her
hair mussed up. How do they DO that?
It's a close call, but we manage to carry Xander out - and half-carry
Faith, who's not in much better shape - before the cave comes crashing
down on our noggins.
Epilogue - Now What?
--------------------
"So...does this thing happen often around here?" Mira asks, staring
out at the ocean with a weird look on her face. She gets weird looks a
lot. Spike is long gone, naturally.
"About once a week, more or less."
"Hm. Sounds like fun," she says, not quite smiling.
"You'll outgrow that pretty fast."
"They don't build caves like they used to..." Xander interrupts, more
or less pointing at the new sinkhole over where the cavern was. Then
he staggers over to Giles and starts rambling to him.
"It wasn't the gun."
"What?" I ask, thrown for a second. It's the accent, I swear.
"That gun the vampire had, it wasn't what - what broke the cave," Mira
explains haltingly. "It was something else."
"What?"
Mira just shrugs, and shudders a little. "I don't know. It's gone now,
I think," she whispers, hunching her shoulders and never looking away
from the ocean.
"Okay..." I want to tell her she's just being paranoid, but... Slayers
know these things. And she's right. Spike's rifle wasn't that powerful,
even I know that much about guns.
"Hate to interrupt, but I'm really really really drunk. Can someone
carry me home?"
Xander. Alcoholic Xander. I don't even want to think about that now,
not on top of everything else.
"We're not too far from my place. You can crash there. You too, Oz,
Giles," Faith says before I can get a word in. That pisses me off a
little. Not that I had anything coherent in mind. It's the pettiness
principle.
"Cool. Got anything to eat? All they gave me on the way out here were
stale Whoppers. I prayed for death."
And off we go, almost just like old times. Almost.
* * * * *
Rating: PG-13 - some violence, adult language
Summary: Ten years later, Buffy's friends have to prevent a cult from
resurrecting the vampire that killed her.
Type: Action/Adventure
Author's Note: This story was originally written after the third
season finale. Naturally, its back-story became obsolete by
Thanksgiving of 1999. While I don't care much for the fourth season
of Buffy, this new version of Ten Years Later does loosely fit into
the evolving canon. History takes a left turn somewhere during Buffy's
sophomore year at college, however, and events thereafter won't match
the two series.
Thanks must go to my collaborator Teresa for helping me brainstorm and
edit this, and generally putting up with my inanity. Not an easy task
by any means, believe me. Also, I crave feedback. That's
NovusSibyl@aol.com. Thank you. Push the button, Frank.
Disclaimer: Buffy, Faith, Giles, Willow, Cordelia, Spike, Oz and
Xander are the creation and property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
Mira Roukas is mine, however.
Part I - Dinner at the Mayor's
------------------------------
The usual shakes start right after I turn off Route 17 and onto Miller
Road. I keep telling myself that next time I'll take Main Street
instead of the shortcut, but every time I find myself driving right
down Wayfare Lane.
As soon as I see the two-story house half-hidden by trees, the sobs
start and I start remembering. All the times I slept over there, all
the parties and planning sessions... the time we all went there right
after -
Stop it. I will NOT go through this again. Not tonight.
I guess all those therapy sessions weren't a complete loss. By the
time I pull into the Mayor's driveway, I'm mostly composed. I take a
minute to clean myself off and put on my game f - happy face.
Typically, I'm the last one to arrive. The Mayor's BMW is out front
and that ratty old VW that the Pastor drives is on the grass. I can't
help but smile at the little slice of chaos in an otherwise stiflingly
impeccable front lawn. It's so typical of her.
And then I'm at the front door and that annoying little motion-sensor
doorbell goes off inside about a half second before one of the butlers
- Dennis, I think - opens the door for me.
"Ah, come in, Professor. They're in the dining room," he says with a
smile, holding out his hands for my coat.
I shake my head. "I'll keep it, thank you."
Dennis - or whoever - nods and vanishes into the woodwork. Literally,
I realize with a shudder. He's a ghost. I wonder if she - of course
she knows. She's the Mayor.
And speak of the Devil. There she is, in all her trademark Saks Fifth
Avenue glory. Drunk, too, ahead of schedule, judging by the embarrassed
look on the Pastor's face.
"Hey, Willow darling," she slurs, confirming my guess, and clumsily
hugs me. "You look - well, very Willowy. Very academic."
"Hello, Cordelia," I say, gently pulling myself out of her hug. God!
She must have started early. Her breath reeks of alcohol. "You look
good." She does, too, which I'm sure is something that thrills her.
Vain little bitch. I could tell her stories about my nightmares that
would make her pretty hair turn white.
She smiles and staggers back to her chair, somehow managing not to
spill the glass of wine in her hand. You have to admire the talent
there.
"It's good to see you, Willow," the Pastor says, squeezing past
Cordelia and giving me a quick hug. Even after all this time, it's
still awkward. But I return the hug, forcing myself not to think about
bad memories.
"Hi." It's all I can manage.
The Pastor smiles sadly. She understands. I hate her.
As always, we start out with small talk. "So, how was the drive up
here?" Cordelia asks in one of her more sober moments. "Did you see the
new stadium?"
Wonderful. Such tact. The Pastor almost spits out her club soda - no
alcohol for her, smart girl - and I just manage a nod.
"Yes, I did. The Richard Wilkins Memorial Stadium." I hiss out the
name. Old habit.
Cordelia nods brightly. "It's all politics, Will. Election year."
Will. I almost tell her I'm voting for Moreau in November just to
see how she reacts. "Could you - please don't call me that, Cordelia."
"Sorry, Will-ow," she says, stretching out the 'ow' with drunken
finesse.
Mercifully, the Pastor changes the subject. "How's school, Willow?"
I smile for real. "It's great. I've got some wonderful students this
semester. And it looks like the Dean will grant me tenure next fall."
"That's excellent news. You're doing wonderful work, Willow, really."
She smiles at me and I wish she'd just shut up, and I hate myself for
it. She's a priest, for God's sake. But why does she have to be so
nice to me? It would be so much easier to hate her if she was even a
little bit rude.
After that, things settle down a little. Dinner - Veal Parmesan - is
served by Dennis, which mildly amuses the Pastor for some reason, and
we eat mostly in quiet. Naturally, the meal is superb. Fringe benefit
of being friends with the Mayor #5 - one night out of the month you can
eat something that doesn't come out of a box. The food helps Cordelia
sober up a little, thankfully.
Naturally, it's when things are finally approaching normality that the
Pastor drops the bombshell.
"I'm having dreams again."
Cordelia, as usual, reacts first. "Oh, that's so lovely, dear. I had
this wonderful dream about Haley Joel Os - "
"I mean *dreams*," the Pastor whispers, a pained look on her face.
That's when I catch on. "Prophecy dreams?" I ask, hoping against hope
that I'm wrong.
Of course I'm not. She nods and stares down at her empty glass before
speaking again. "They started last week. I didn't think anything about
it, really. It's been so long since I had one, I half-forgot what they
were like. But then I had the same dream again the next night, and the
night after that."
From the look on her face, they weren't happy dreams. I can't help but
feel a little gleeful and guilty at the same time. "Tell me about them.
What did you see?"
"Images. Crazy images all strung together. A house...vampires. I
think. A lightning bolt. And a rainbow. More, but I can't remember
them or put words to them."
She's right, it's crazy. I can't think of any supernatural phenomena
relating to lightning bolts and rainbows. "Anything else?"
She shakes her head. "Nothing. I'm sorry. I never was - very good at
that side of the lifestyle." She almost said 'as good as' and then
caught herself, I think. Nobody here wants to bring that up.
"I'll dig into the books. There might be something useful."
"Thank you. I know that this is important somehow. A call... " her
voice trails off and finally she just shrugs. "The way will show
itself, I'm sure."
Proving she's not asleep, Cordelia chirps up. "Maybe it's got
something to do with the new Slayer in town."
"New Slayer? Coulda mentioned that earlier, C," the Pastor snaps.
Funny how she regresses whenever she gets angry.
Cordelia smiles slyly. "Mayoral privilege, sweetie. S'my job to keep
things under control."
"You sound just like Snyder, Cordelia." Snyder and that bastard
Wilkins, but that's another name we don't like to bring up.
"She's drunk, Willow, don't be too harsh."
"Don't you start! She's got no right keeping things like that from us
of all people."
She squeezes my shoulder, just hard enough to push me down into my
chair. Some things you never forget, I guess. "Willow, please. Arguing
won't get us anywhere." Then, to Cordelia. "What new Slayer?"
Cordelia shrugs. Dammit, why can't she sober up? At times like this,
I almost regret renouncing the black arts. I could cast a spell that
would sober her up fast.
"What am I, a phone book? Some girl. The cops have seen her around
town the last few days, killing vampires." She clumsily pantomimes
stabbing. "Dark hair. Pretty in a street urchin kind of way. The
usual."
"We'll have to find her. She must be part of it. It can't be a
coincidence that my dreams started just when the Slayer arrives in
town."
For once, I agree with the Pastor. Damn it, Cordelia, you should have
told us earlier. Should have told us as soon as you found out. "I'll
ask around. I bet Willie knows something."
"Willie? Oh, please. I ran that sleaze ball out of town," Cordelia
sneers.
"Ran him out of town?"
"You bet. Do you have any idea the kind of clients that cesspool he
ran attracted? He's lucky I just revoked his liquor license." Her eyes
light up with genuine disgust. "We don't want that kind of people in
the new Sunnydale."
"You're drunk," I finally manage to say. The Pastor just sighs and
shakes her head. It must be hell for her. Cordelia sounds just like
that snake.
"You know that Willie has helped us in the past," the Pastor adds,
trying to steer the conversation back to slightly safer ground.
Cordelia sneers at both of us. "I don't care about your little
after-hours crusade. I have to keep this town neat and tidy."
"There are some things more important than looking good for the Triple
A Guide, Cordelia."
"Oh, please. Grow up. This isn't high school any more. This is the real
world. I don't have time to run around playing Slayerette," Cordelia
hisses. "Some of us have non-fantasy jobs."
"I don't think there's any point in continuing this conversation," the
Pastor says after a ten-count. "I wish you luck in November, Cordelia."
That makes one of us.
I should stay and try to talk some sense into Cordelia, but I know it
wouldn't do any good, so I just mutter a goodbye and follow the Pastor
out into the front lawn.
She's already inside her car by the time I get there.
"Hey! Wait!" Very suave.
"I thought you'd try to wring some details out of Her Honor," the
Pastor says after rolling down the window.
"Why bother? She's a completely different person now, I can barely
even believe it."
The Pastor grins and shrugs. "Yeah, I've heard that can happen to
people. Look, it's late. You should go home. Hit the books or
something. I'll call you tomorrow. Maybe I'll have another dream
tonight." Her grin fades as she considers it. Obviously the dreams
weren't very happy at all.
"I could hack into the police network, see if they have any files on
this new Slayer."
"Yeah... be careful, okay? I have a bad feeling about this."
"Don't worry. I'm still Net Girl." I feel like its high school again
for just a second. Then I remember all the reasons it's not...
"Just like old times, huh?" she asks, echoing my thoughts.
"Yeah. Just like...I'll be in touch if I find anything out."
"G'night, Willow."
"Good night, Faith."
I'm actually in good shape on the drive home until I see a teenage
girl kicking the crap out of a pack of vampires in an alley behind
what used to be The Costume Shop.
To my credit, I'm switch into autopilot instead of breaking down again.
I'm out of the car, wooden stake in hand, before I even realize what
I'm doing.
Not that my hesitation causes any problems. There were eight vampires
when I slammed on the brakes and only three left when I get out of the
car.
The nearest one never sees me coming. I trip it with a garbage can and
stake it. I can just feel my adrenaline pumping like it hasn't in ten
years.
As for the last two vampires, I can't help myself. I stop and watch.
At first, it looks like the usual John Woo/Rene Boigny duel,
but then the Slayer jumps back and pulls out a gun, some kind of big
ugly machine pistol. The vampires don't have a chance - whatever kind
of bullets those are, they do the job. Both vampires are dust in as
long as it takes her to pull the trigger.
Look at me. I'm feeling sorry for vampires now. But still - Buffy never
ever needed a gun. Except against the Judge, but that doesn't count. He
wasn't a vampire and it wasn't really a gun. Whatever happened to a
good old-fashioned staking?
Aside from that, it's a decent technique, but where are the puns? Kids
these days have no sense of tradition.
And there we are, staring at each other. Mexican standoffs give me the
creeps, so I break the silence.
"So... I take it you're the Slayer I keep hearing about?" Not my best
line, but I have gotten better since the old days. At least that's
what I tell myself.
She nods and stows the gun in her coat. Leather. What is it with
Slayers and leather? "You should go home. It's not safe after dark."
Funny accent - Greek, mostly, but there's something else there I can't
place. Macedonian, maybe, or Albanian, or something.
What the hell should I say to her? Hi, I used to be best friends with
a Slayer, but she died saving the world and now I teach Computer
Science?
Fortunately, maybe, the girl takes advantage of my hesitation to do a
back flip right over the chain link fence behind her. I'm still gaping
like an idiot when she hightails it around the corner.
Well, that was brilliant. I can't help laughing. She must have thought
I was completely out of my mind.
Great. This is all too much for me. I'm going home, where it's safe
and comfortable.
Part II - Reunions
------------------
The next day goes relatively normally. I take a couple stabs at the
police network, but can't find anything. They either don't know
anything or have seriously upgraded their security. Or both, I guess.
I do a little checking on the things the Pastor mentioned from her
dream, but no luck there, either.
Naturally, she calls me up I give up hope of finding anything useful.
"Hey, Willow. What's up?"
"Um... hi, Faith. Nothing. Just, you know, doing the hacker thing."
"Any luck?"
"No. I did have a run-in with the new Slayer last night, though."
A five-second silence, then "Oh. What happened?"
"Nothing. She killed some vampires. I stood around like a fifth
wheel. Then she ran off."
The Pastor laughs softly. "Jittery, isn't she?"
"I guess."
Awkward pause takes over.
"So did you have another dream last night?"
"No. I'm not sure if I should be thankful or worried. Worried,
probably. There's something that's been bothering me. The
rainbow..."
"What about the rainbow?"
"That's the problem. I don't know. But it's worrying me. I think it
might be important."
"Maybe. But I haven't found anything in any of the books." I don't
tell her I was up until four AM giving my Classical Latin skills a
good workout.
"That doesn't necessarily mean anything."
I glare at the phone. She's still an annoying bitch sometimes.
Especially on those too-frequent occasions when she has a point.
"Okay, you're right. I could do some more poking around, see if any of
Giles' old index volumes have anything."
I can hear the wheels turning in her mind as soon as I say Giles' name.
And sure enough... "You know, Willow, Giles took a lot of his books
with him... there could be something there."
"Yeah. But I haven't talked to Giles in almost five years, Faith. I
don't even know where he lives."
"He still has the winery in Sonoma County."
It's just so ironic that Faith, of all people, knows that for sure
and I don't. "Fine. Just say it, Faith."
"Say what?"
"Say that you want me to go crawling to Giles for help."
"Now wait a second, Willow, that's not what I was going to say." Five
seconds. "Okay, I was thinking maybe it would be better if you want
than if I did, but I'm not going to beg you to do it."
"Okay, I'll do it."
It's good to know that I can still make Faith speechless. It's petty,
but that's about all I have these days.
"Well, uh, good...Let me know how it turns out."
"Yeah. I guess I should leave now if I'm going to be back tonight."
"Okay. Drive carefully."
"Yes, mommy. I'll call you later, okay?"
"Uh-huh. Bye, Willow."
I hang up without saying goodbye. Sorry. I'm in a hurry. Really.
I'm already on the Interstate when it occurs to me that I probably
should have called ahead. How do I even know Giles is in the country,
let alone at home? Of course, actually having his phone number would
be helpful. On the good side, the day can't get much stupider, right?
Right.
It starts out well. I make good time on the Interstate and it's still
light out when I reach the little two-lane road that goes into wine
country.
I love Sonoma. Maybe I'm jaded, maybe it's just Sunnydale, but you
just don't see bicyclists who wave at you instead of giving you the
finger anywhere else. It's even warm enough to roll down my window -
the one that works - and feel the breeze as it ruffles the grass and
the leaves on the trees.
It's so Giles-y, like God made the town just for him. And the sign on
his little winery - West York Winery - looks like it's been there for
years. Maybe it has. I never asked Giles about it before we stopped
talking, really.
So now what? I haven't seen Giles in almost five years. I'm getting
the shakes just standing at his door. I should have stayed in therapy
longer, I guess.
The door swings open, sparing me further misery.
God. He looks exactly the same.
"Willow! What - why - who - "
Sounds the same, too.
"Hiya, Giles. Mind if I come in?"
"Oh! Of course. Wait. No. Why are you asking?"
"Huh?" What the hell is he talking - oh, for the love of God. "Giles,
it's still sunny out." Fine. I hop over the threshold. "Happy? Still
alive and soulful, see?"
"Yes, well, good." He starts to hug me, then just shakes my hand.
"What brings you to Sonoma, if I may ask?"
"I was hoping you could tell me, actually."
"Oh? How so?"
"There's this - dreams - and Faith. A rainbow."
Giles' eyebrows ratchet up another notch. "I see."
"I mean, Faith thinks she had a prophetic dream. Something about
lightning. And a rainbow. And the new Slayer. Maybe. I couldn't find
anything in the books you gave me and I was hoping that you had
something here because I think it's going to be really important."
"Same red hair. Same voice. If she didn't look so serious, I'd think
that was my Wills talking."
Oh, my *God*. I didn't even see the shadow lurking behind Giles in the
dark foyer. But a tall young man steps out of the dim light and -
"XANDER!"
I nearly knock Giles over in my haste. No wonder he was surprised. Two
of the old gang showing up on his doorstep at once....
Xander and I must have been hugging each other a little longer than
decorum decreed, going by Giles' polite cough in the background. I
haven't seen the man in nearly ten years, not since Buffy....well, not
since a few days after that. I've gotten postcards over the years. One
from Toronto, a few from Europe, and one from South Africa, of all the
improbable places for Xander to end up.
He's changed.
I realize it when I step back and almost run into Giles again. It seems
like he's gotten taller, or maybe he just stands straighter. He's got a
black leather jacket on and a scar across his cheek; his hair's been
cropped short, it's already got a streak of grey in it, and his eyes
are... darker somehow.
"I knew it had to be Willow," he says with a sad smile. Giles puts his
hands on my shoulders - I knew I was shaking, but I didn't realize how
much.
"He's been here for a few days," Giles says softly.
"Came in on the midnight train from Georgia," Xander nods. He's so
grown-up. Xander wasn't supposed to grow up. He's supposed to be a
slouchy, tousle-haired goofball. "Had to look up Giles while I was en
route. He convinced me to stay." That same lopsided smile, as if he
doesn't remember how to really do it anymore. "Well, the wine
convinced me."
"Thank you," Giles says wryly, then lets go of my shoulders. "Come,
you must be tired - are you still living in Sunnydale?"
Of course I am. Someone has to keep an eye on things there. "Yeah."
"You drove up in a single day?"
"It's really, *really* important."
Xander starts to agree with me, but Giles puts up a hand. "I know you
wouldn't have come if it wasn't - oh good *Lord*, I didn't mean it that
way - I just meant - I hadn't heard from you - " He shoots a pleading
look at Xander.
"He doesn't get out much," Xander says with a dark grin. "Come on. We
were gonna head out to look at the vineyards when you arrived. Let's
hit the library, we'll talk it over there."
I still shiver when he puts his hand on the small of my back to guide
me up the stairs.
It's a lot like the high school library, really; a little smaller, but
I just know that it's probably most of the second floor - knowing
Giles, he has a closet bedroom so that he can fit more library space
in. The last of the daylight filters in through huge floor-to-ceiling
windows on one side, and Xander drops into a chair that's just in
shadow.
"What about you?" I ask, as Giles excuses himself for a minute. "Ten
years, Xander. *Ten years*. You could have sent me an address."
Xander shrugs. "I guess I never really had one."
"What did you *do*?"
"A little bit of everything." He glances down at the tabletop. "A
little bit of nothing. I ah... I meant to write. More often. I...
hell."
"What?"
"I used to buy things to send to you - I just never ended up sending
them. Except the postcards. There's still an authentic Kenyan dance
mask sitting in an apartment in Johannesburg somewhere, waiting to be
mailed."
"So you did have an address."
"Not mine. A friend's."
"Since when do you have friends in South Africa?"
"Since a lot of things happened, okay?" he snaps. "I've got a lot of
friends in strange places now."
"Such as Sonoma," Giles puts in, returning with a bottle of wine and
three glasses. "You're only allowed one glass, Xander."
"Killjoy."
"You're not fighting tonight, you only need one." Giles is firm. About
what, I'm not sure, but I don't even know if I want to ask anymore. I
don't want to get a bad answer. "Willow, would you like some?"
"Not much... thanks." I accept the quarter-full wineglass and stare at
the dark liquid, trying to come up with the words to explain the last
few days.
"This was the first pressing. Not a bad concoction." Giles grins
wearily. Has everyone forgotten how to smile? "Now. Your reasons -
Faith's dreams."
"Hang on a second. Faith as in psycho Faith? Jailbird Faith?"
"Yeah. Well, she's better now. She's a priest."
"Okay, I know I'm sober, so I must be losing my hearing. You didn't
just say Faith was a priest... did you?"
"Faith has changed quite a bit since her prison sentence."
"Faith, a priest?" Xander just gnaws on his lip. "Prison must have been
hard for her."
"She says she saw God."
"Really really hard."
Giles coughs. "Be that as it may, I doubt she'd make up something like
this."
"So what is the 'this', anyway? Lighting and rainbows? Not the usual
demonic preview."
"Well, it could be any number of things. Lightning is a common element
in supernatural events, of course. Rainbows, though... That sounds
familiar somehow." He walks over to one of the bookshelves at the far
end of the room and pulls down a dusty leather-bound book that must
weigh fifteen pounds. "Let's see what this has to say."
"Ooo! The Seleucian Sibyl. I didn't know there were any copies outside
of the Watcher archives in London."
"Yes, well..." Giles fidgets and flips through the pages. "I somehow
forgot to return it when I left the Watchers."
"You bad boy, Giles. I bet there's a huge overdue fine."
Giles just smiles. "Ah! Here we are. I was right." He pokes one of the
entries towards the back of the book. "Fragment number 415. What do you
think?"
I stare down at the text and squint a bit, then shrug. "Um, it's all
Greek. Ancient Greek."
"Oh. Oh! Yes, of course." Giles picks the book up and recites the text.
"When Athena's heir takes up her sword, there shall - There's a bit
missing, unfortunately. But it carries on. The children of Hades shall
cry out as one and Hecate will rain her arrows upon them in her wrath,
but the sleeper shall arise upon the blood of the slain unless the
champion of the rainbow and the keys - and that's where it stops."
"Well, that's cheery. Incoherent. And so helpfully ending right at
the important part," Xander says with a scowl.
"That's true, but it does at least tell us that Faith's dreams do have
some significance. Now we merely need to discover whom the sleeper in
question is, and who the champion is, and...I'll see if there's
anything in the Lancer Commentaries." He gives a strained smile and
retreats to the shelves.
"Still loves his books, doesn't he?"
"You can take the Watcher out of Giles, but you can't - no, wait. You
know what I mean."
"The scary thing is, I do." He takes a long sip of wine, then smiles.
"God, I can't believe how you're all grown up now, Wills."
If you hadn't run off, you'd have been there with me, Xander. I just
smile and nod. "You look - older. What have you been doing all this
time? I demand details!"
Xander's smile just shrivels up and dies. He stares at his wineglass
for a few seconds, then shrugs. "Well, for a while after... all the
stuff, I was a wreck. I ended up living with my Uncle Rory for a
while. Then I just left. Got on a bus heading east and ended up in
Baltimore." He steals Giles' wineglass and finishes it off. "This
stuff is great. Where was I?"
"Baltimore."
"Oh, right. Baltimore. This was probably four months after I left
Sunnydale. I... well, really long story goes there. But basically I
ended up almost becoming a midnight snack for a vampire..."
"And?"
"And I kicked his pasty little ass. That's when I realized that I was
actually good for something."
"Killing vampires?"
"Bingo. Five years with... five years in Sunnydale knowing what was
*really* going on, it teaches you a few things."
"Tell me about it." That wine keeps looking more tempting. Xander pours
us both another when he finishes his.
"I cleaned up Baltimore pretty quickly. Second-rate, the lot of them.
Plus there were only five or six in the city. After that I went to Canada
- you wouldn't believe the bastard demons they've got up there. I always
thought Canada was quiet and boring. That Due South show betrayed me, I
tell you."
"Okay... So, what, you're like a guy Slayer?"
Xander shook his head. "Not really. I'm not super-strong or, well,
super-smart, but I do what I can. I spent a couple years in England -"
"England?" I don't like where this is going.
"Yeah. I, um... I got some professional training there, kind of got me a
mentor."
"A mentor? Who?" I ask as my stomach sinks down into my toes.
He jerks his head towards the bookshelves. Fuck. I hate it when I'm
right like this. "We ran into each other in some little hick village
in northern England about seven years ago. Who knew one of his old
college buddies lived right on top of a Hellmouth? He taught me a few
tricks, some weapons stuff, and then I headed across the Channel to
France. I asked him not to tell anyone."
"You bastard." Must be the wine that's stopping me from breaking his
neck. That or my lack of upper-body strength.
"I know, Wills. I'm sorry."
"You *bastard*."
"Willow..."
"Sorry." I hate this. I hate Faith for making me come out here. I hate
Xander for being here, for ten years without even a fucking phone call.
I hate Giles for not telling me. "Go on."
"Not much more to tell. Wandered around Europe for about five years,
busted up a few vampire nests, killed this really slimy...
worm-thing... in Estonia, then I got word of a big hellmouthy deal in
Johannesburg. Turns out it was nothing, but I got sidetracked with
some jungle demons and stayed in Africa for a while. They've got
vampires that make the Master look like a kitten, you know. Came back
to the States - I really did just come from Georgia. I was on my way
to.... hell. Sunnydale. I didn't think I was, I thought I'd hit San
Francisco, but ten *years*, Wills. I got homesick."
What the hell does he want me to say? Ten years without even a phone
call. Why didn't you take me with you, Xander? I would have come. I
would have dropped it all to go with you rather than stay here and
pick up the pieces after Buffy died. I just nod and squeeze his
shoulder.
All I can do is smile and hope I don't start crying. "It's good that
you're back."
"It'll be just like the old days, Wills. So what about you? What have
you been doing all this time?"
"Oh. Well, I finished college and got a job teaching Computer Science
at the new high school. Oh and some nights, I go out to hunt vampires."
God, I really am pathetic, aren't I? I don't need to go into the
therapy and string of failed relationships of all sorts.
"Still kicking butt! That's my Willow."
Your Willow? I'm this close to calling him on that little gem when
Giles comes rushing back.
"Ah-ha! I found it!"
He slams another book down on the table, shaking up a cloud of dust
thick enough to make me gag.
"According to Lancer's annotation, the original oracle was verbal, as
most were, but a written version was made some years later. In the
second century BC, some over-zealous pagan copyists altered it - the
proper names have all been changed to those of Greek gods. But the
Watchers managed to get one of the originals. Athena appears to
indicate some kind of semi-divine warrior, which would make her heir a
Slayer, one assumes. Children of Hades is obviously a reference to
vampires."
"What about the rest of it?"
"According to Professor Lancer, it seems to be a prophecy of a ritual
of resurrection."
"Vampire resurrection?"
"Precisely," Giles says, a satisfied look on his face.
"But which vampire?"
Poof! There goes the satisfaction. "Well... of course, there's no way to
know for sure. It must be a powerful vampire to inspire this sort of
loyalty among its followers, of course."
"Great, that really narrows it down, G-Man. Not like we didn't kill
about five hundred of them over the years."
"Xander... It's okay, Giles." Crap. It's almost eight. "I have to go.
I've got papers to grade by tomorrow or the Dean will have my head.
I'll call you if anything comes up, okay?"
"Okay. Be careful, Willow."
"I will."
Giles gives me a quick handshake, then goes back to his books.
"I'll, uh - I'll show her out, Giles."
"Hm? Oh, yes, quite." Then he's back in the shelves.
Even with the streetlights, it's almost pitch black outside on the
street. I can barely see Xander.
"Where are you staying?" I hear myself ask after a few awkward
seconds.
"Giles has a spare room. I've got a sleeping bag. Match made in heaven,
right?"
"Yeah..." That of all things does it. I'm glad it's dark - he can't see
me crying. "I'll call you guys tomorrow, okay? I wish I could stay."
"I wish you could, too," he says in a strange, soft tone of voice.
"Good night, Xander." I pretty much run to my car and tear out of the
parking lot, out of Sonoma, before I can get second thoughts.
Part III - Cold Dark Places
---------------------------
Considering my state of mind, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. I
must have gone eighty all the way home - all the way to here, anyhow,
sitting in a stopped car on the side of the road with police lights
reflecting in the rearview mirror and a tall, gangly officer bending
to look in the driver's side window.
"License and registration, ma'am - " He gasps for show and holds his
hand over his heart. "Oh, saints preserve me! Could it be? Is it
possible?"
Oh, fuck me. What is this, freaking reunion weekend? "Spike."
He leans on the door and pokes his head through the open window, a
sick smile on his face. "You have any idea how fast you were going
back there, little missy?"
I sigh and reach for the cross I've got wedged between the seat and
gearshift. He shakes his head and gives the car door a good thump.
"No need, Witch Woman." He's behind the times. I quit that Wicca
stuff years ago, right after Buffy... after that. "Though I could ask
why you're speeding and crying at the same time. Not safe, that."
Goddamn his super vampiric eyesight. "It's none of your business.
Thanks."
"I could write you a ticket."
"Then fucking write it, okay?" I know I'm pushing it, but it's been a
long day. "I'll send the goddamn check tomorrow. Just leave me the
hell alone."
"Hey hey hey, is that any way to talk to an old sparring mate? I'm on
the side of law and order now, you know. Got me a badge and
everything."
"A badge? What crackerjack box gave that to you?"
His smile makes me want to vomit. "The one named Cordelia Chase."
"Cordelia? Oh, come on."
Spike smiles again and shows off his uniform. He's so goddamn smug, I'm
tempted to shove a cross into his eye socket. "Honest. I'm head of the
bloody Special Security Detail. Got a badge and a gun and everything,
luv. And I can kill and eat all the lawbreakers I want as long as I
keep it quiet. If I'm 'specially good, she orders me a yummy cheerleader
for dinner... "
Jesus, Cordelia... what happened to you? Angel was right. "So what the
hell are you doing pulling speeders over?" Why do I even believe him?
Shouldn't I be surprised and in denial?
"Tut tut, no need to be surly. You're all sorts of out of character
tonight. You were going awfully fast back there, and if I remember the
old Willow right, she wouldn't even go a mile above the speed limit.
For that matter, she couldn't drive at all..."
"You didn't answer the question."
"Honestly? I was waiting for you."
"Waiting for me."
"Honest. You've been poking your nose in books again, haven't you?
Wondering about lightning and rainbows, maybe?"
I'm gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles are turning white. "What do
you know about it?"
"Oh, me? Nothing. I'm just a dumb bloody cop. I think I'll let you off
with a warning this time. You just be more careful in future, ma'am."
He turns to go, knowing I'll ask and savoring the misery.
"Spike, *please*."
"What was that?"
Goddammit, I should break one of Faith's holy water bottles over his
face. "Please tell me what you know, Spike."
"Now that's better. It's quite simple, really. A pack of filthy little
troublemakers are planning on raising up your old chum Louhi. Been
nosing around, even stole a book of black magic right out of the
Mayoral library."
Oh, God. God, no. Faster than I ever thought I could, I slam the stick
into D and floor the gas pedal.
"Hey!" Spike topples back and yells something else, but I'm already a
block away and making the turn onto Williams Circle.
Good thing Queen's Hill is only a mile away or I'd get pulled over for
real. As it is, I almost run over a stop sign before I screech to a
stop in front of the main gate.
It's not locked in any serious way - the owner probably gave up after
it got smashed open by vampires coming up one too many times. I just
push it open and slip in, cross and stake ready.
All alone in a cemetery in the middle of the night. Panic makes you
stupid, I guess. I don't even have a flashlight or even a cigarette
lighter. But that's okay. I've been here enough times that I don't
need one. And no vampires or demons ambush me from the darkness.
Section 5, Plot 45 - right under a pair of oak trees that get bigger
every time I visit. The cross is still there, a lighter spot in the
darkness, even if I can't read the inscription. I know what it says
anyway, though.
Then there's a soft click and a spot of light appears a few feet away.
I almost kick out, but I'm tired enough to give my brain a chance to
take over at the last second.
"God! Faith, that's a bad habit."
Faith shrugs as she lights the cigarette. "These are the clean kind,
don't worry."
"You know that's not what I meant."
"Sorry," she says with a smile that looks weird in the flickering
reddish glow of her cigarette.
"So what are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you."
"Oh." Then it hits me. "How'd you know I'd be here?"
She gets a funny look on her face and exhales a thin cloud of smoke.
"Someone told me you'd be coming."
I hate it when people get cryptic. Bad enough when spirits of the
outer darkness do it, but humans - priests especially - should be more
polite. "Faith, I'm not in the mood for twenty questions. Spill."
"I was told that you'd be coming here and that I should go meet you."
I've heard her use that tone of voice before.
Great. Faith and her Joan of Arc complex, just when I need her sane.
"Why?"
"Dunno. So why are you here at this hour?"
I start to tell her about Giles - and Xander - and what Spike said,
but at that point, a gang of vampires rudely interrupt and attack us.
I'd like to say that we kick ass, but the vampires got the drop on us.
And in our favor, there are ten of them. I take a bit of smug pride
when Faith goes down first, practically buried under seven vampires,
but three seconds later one of the vampires smacks me on the back of
the head and everything gets dark.
I wake up chained to a stone wall and manage not to scream. Not that
impressive, though, since nobody is sticking me with red-hot pokers or
anything.
It looks like they stuck us in a big cave. There's a fire going in the
middle, big enough that I can kinda see most of the cave if I turn my
head - they were nice enough not to chain my neck, too. Scratch that
wall, though - I'm stuck to a stalagmite. About ten feet away, Faith is
in the same boat. Ten feet to my right is the new Slayer, finding new and
creative uses for Greek. What I understand makes me blush.
"Can you keep it down? You're not helping my headache," I hiss in less
than perfect modern Greek.
"Who are you?" she asks in that weird dialect of Greek, then rattles
the chains a bit. They hold. Dammit.
"Willow Rosenberg. I'd shake your hand, but..." Rattle rattle.
She smiles a bit. Good. She's not in shock or drugged. Maybe the
vampires weren't as smart as I thought. "I'm Mira. Mira Eudoxia
Roukas."
"Hi. We have to stop meeting like this."
Another smile, some more rattles until she's red in the face.
"Shh. You'll just let them know we're awake."
"Right." She looks so disappointed. Why do Slayers always want to
break things? "What happened?"
Great. So much for me asking her. "Don't you know?"
"If I knew, would I have asked?"
Good point, even if it does lose points for rudeness. "How long have
you been here?"
She tries to shrug, but what with the chains, it just looks silly. "A
few hours. Perhaps more. I only woke up before you came."
"Great."
At this point, Faith wakes up with a moan and - naturally - starts
rattling the chains. "Son of a... grr." I can practically hear her
counting to ten, then say "Willow?" in a scary - bad scary - tone of
voice.
"I'm here, Faith."
"Any idea where here is?"
I shake my head. "Probably somewhere near the ocean. I think I can
hear the waves. Are you okay?"
A long silence.
"Faith?"
"I'm bleeding from the head, I think. Nothing serious. I'm not dizzy."
Great. Assets - one ex-Slayer with a head injury and one current
Slayer chained up tight. And one rapidly panicking computer science
teacher/recovering witch. Debits - at least ten vampires who want to
kill us in order to resurrect a five thousand-year-old vampire
sorceress. The odds are not good.
My gloomy musings are cut off when a door somewhere across the cave
opens and two vampires in black robes - typical - come in, dragging
someone between them. It's too damn dark to see who it is as they're
chaining him - her? - up against another stalagmite. Then the vampires
glide back out without a word.
We all kind of stare at each other for a few minutes, or at least I
think we do since I can't even see the new person. The fire is
starting to die down.
The silence lasts until the newcomer tests the chains. "Huh. Good
quality. Gotta admire professionalism like this."
Oh, God, this is getting just too weird. It can't be - no, it has to
be. Who else would it be? Still, I have to be sure. "You sound like
someone who knows from shackles."
His head bobs up - I think. Something moved, at least. "Huh. Three
Sunnydaleites. I'll swap you our present predicament for the
assurance that you're who I think you are."
"OZ! Oz! It's me, Willow!" Rattle rattle rattle. "And Faith."
"Not in the same body, are you? Because I was told this was just a
plain old blood sacrifice."
Same old Oz, God bless him. "No, Faith's over there. Say 'hi', Faith."
Faith mumbles something. She never really liked Oz that much.
"Hey Faith. Who's Victim Number Three?"
"Mira. Mira Eudoxia Roukas," she calls out in that weird-ass Greek
accent. "I'm the Slayer."
"Cool. I'd shake your hand, but - " Clank. "You know. Sorry."
"I forgive you."
Oh, brother, they're bonding. "So how'd they get you, Oz?"
"Ambushed me after a gig I did in New York City. They got me in the
bathroom at LaGuardia and stuffed me on a charter flight. Et voila.
How about you?"
"They hit me and Faith at the cemetery just now. They were lucky, we
were stupid."
He doesn't ask what Faith and I were doing at the cemetery, just
grunts. Fame hasn't changed Oz much, I guess.
"How about you, Mira Eudoxia Roukas?"
Good question. Wish I'd thought of it.
I can actually hear her blush, I swear to God. "I was just coming out
of the shower at the hotel when they ambushed me. I only killed four."
Four? Sure, Gun Girl. "With what? Your brush handle?"
"Yes," she says, so matter of factly I know she's not lying.
"Oh." Okay, maybe the guns were more of a laborsaving device. I
should just keep my big mouth shut and get us out of here. Somehow.
Before the vampires come back and kill us all so Louhi can come back
to life and take over the world.
That didn't help.
"Does anybody have a plan?"
"It would help if I knew what was going on," Mira points out. Creepy -
aside from the accent, she sounds almost like Buffy. Her words, not
her voice, I mean.
"It's your usual vampire resurrection via human sacrifice," Oz answers.
"The ritual requires all the people who were present when the vampire
died in order to work. Which doesn't really explain you, though. You
were still using training wheels when Louhi died."
"Training wheels? What?"
"Didn't the Watchers teach you English?" I snap. She gets a funny look
on her face, but before either of us can say anything, Faith blurts out
"The rainbow!"
"What?"
"She's the rainbow."
"Mira's a rainbow?"
"Uh-huh." She tugs at the chains a bit, then turns towards me. "From
the book."
"Right. Hang in there, Faith. We'll get out of this."
"How? You have a plan?" Mira chirps in.
"Still working on that, sweetie," I hiss. The truth is, I have no idea
what to do. I should have listened to Spike - not flown off like an
idiot - or at least swung by the house to pick up some real weapons
first. Or called Giles and Xander.
Giles and Xander. Where are they? The vampires don't have them yet. I
hope.
God, don't even think they got captured, you'll -
That's when I hear the gunfire.
Part IV - The Rainbow
---------------------
Gunfire? What the fuck?
"What was that?"
"Was that a - "
"Did you hear that?"
"QUIET!"
They shut up. Heh. Still got it.
Of course, by this time, the gunshots - or whatever - have stopped.
"Shit. Mira - any luck with the chains?"
Rattle rattle rattle. "No. I'm sorry."
Great. Just freaking great. We're going to die. The vampires are going
to come back and kill us all and then Louhi will rise and kill everyone
else. And what kind of morons want to resurrect the Master's grandsire
anyway? She'll probably eat them first of all.
"Miss Rosenberg!"
"What?"
"Calm down, please."
Who the hell is she to tell me to - calm down, Willow. Deep breaths.
There's a clatter from above, like when they brought Oz in. This
time, there are six vampires and two people, trussed up and being
dragged more than walking.
The worst part is, I know who they are before I even see them.
"Hiya, Giles."
"Hallo, Willow."
"Hey, Wills."
"Hi, Xander."
"Hey Giles."
"Hello, Oz."
"Hi, Giles."
"Good to see you, Faith."
"Xander."
"Faith."
"Hi, lady."
"Hello, sir. Sirs."
Enough already! "I hate to interrupt such thrilling conversation, but
maybe we should try and get out of here?"
"Well, I'm open to any plans you have, Willow."
"Yeah. 'Cuz our plan didn't work well really."
Xander sounds funny. I hope he didn't get hurt. This is - God, please
don't let us die.
"It perhaps would have worked if you weren't drunk," Mira snaps.
Drunk? Oh, fuck, Xander. I should have figured it out. We really are
doomed.
"Drunk is good," Xander mumbles. He's probably close to passing out.
"Demons... they can't read yer mind if you can't think straight."
"I'm sorry, Willow," Giles says softly, over Xander's mutterings. Yeah
thanks, Giles. He's always sorry, but there's nothing sorry can do
about it.
"How much has he had, Giles?"
"Willow..."
"How fucking much?"
Giles sighs. "I'm not sure. Two or three drinks. More than I thought."
"You let him do this?"
"Yes, well I didn't have a choice much, did I?"
Oz rattles his chains, urgently. "Bickering ending anytime soon? I'd
like to get cracking on one of those really great escape plans we used
to come up with all the time."
It's Faith's turn to be morbid. "Good luck. Those were Buffy's
department, remember?" she asks, not quite managing to keep the
jealousy out of her voice.
"She sure had some half-assed plots in that brain of hers." Xander
again, slurring even more than before.
"What, are you on some kind of alcoholic IV drip, Xand? You're getting
worse by the second."
"Losing the adrenaline rush. Buffy... she was great. She coulda kicked
ass. She coulda saved us." He sniffles. "Not me."
"Oh, *do* let's get nostalgic," Giles snaps.
"HEY! Everybody shut UP!"
I haven't heard Oz yell in years. I almost forgot what it sounded like.
His voice echoes back weirdly and I wonder if that's a werewolf thing,
or just the acoustics down here.
"Oz is right. We'll never get out of here if we don't stop acting
like teenagers. Giles, Xander, does anybody know you're here?"
"No, I'm afraid."
"Great. Dammit, why couldn't you stay away?"
"We were trying to save you. Maybe some gratit - grati - thanks, huh?"
"Xander, we were safe until you showed up. They couldn't have killed
us or else their ritual wouldn't work."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Hey, wait. It won't work anyway. We're not all here," Faith says
after a second. "I mean, I wasn't even around when this Louhi was first
killed and - well, Buffy was still alive."
"For a few minutes," Xander mumbles, then perks up. "Yeah! You're
right!"
"I wish," Oz says, a pensive frown on his face. "The vampires gloated
about it on the flight out here. That's what the new Slayer is for.
They're gonna use her life energy to substitute for Buffy." He glances
at Mira. "Sorry."
She shakes her head. "The vampires actually told you their plans?" she
asks, trying not to laugh. I guess it's a good thing someone finds the
hidden humor here.
"Yup. They tend to do that, you know."
"They never talk to me," she complains.
I try to tell them to shut up and come up with a plan, but even as I
open my mouth, the vampires, all ten of them, come back. The tallest
one, who looks barely human, even for a vampire, is carrying a long
red knife and a wooden jar covered with some kind of runes. Louhi's
bones must be in there, but God only knows how they got them. There
wasn't much left of the house after that last fight.
Doesn't matter, really. Time's up. We lose.
"Who wants to die first?" the lead vampire, the one with the knife,
asks. How polite.
I can't help but giggle. Neither can Faith or Mira or Xander. That
just pisses them off, but since they're about to kill us, who the fuck
cares?
"You. Slayer."
Faith snickers. "Which one? There's two of us."
"Three, if you count the time Buffy and I switched bodies," I point
out.
"What? When did that happen?" Faith asks.
"Sophomore year, after you went up to LA. It was really kind of neat."
"Silence. Take her," he says, pointing at Mira with that knife. "Her
blood will tear the veil between worlds and call out to our Dark
Mother."
"Dear Lord, don't let those be the last words I ever hear," Mira
mutters as a group of vampires unchain her.
"Your tongue will go first..." the vampire leader snarls, running his
finger along the blade of the knife. As he does, there's a rumble - it
sounds funny, like it's coming from far away, but the ground shakes
slightly.
"What the - ?"
The leader turns and laughs at me. "Merely a storm! Your false godling
seeks to strike us down, but nothing can prevent the rising!"
Godling? What -
"Wait a moment and you'll see what my God can do," Mira says in a
whisper so soft I can barely hear her.
"What?" the vampire asks, leaning close. "A last request?"
"Yes. Die." She tears her arms free from the vamps holding her, then
shoves the palm of her right hand into his face. And then the vampire's
head explodes.
What happens next is - well, I can barely describe it. Mira dances
around the vampires - not literally, of course, but she moves so
gracefully it's almost like dancing. Somehow she gets a hold of a
torch and starts burning the vampires. At least that's what I think
at first, then I realize it's not a torch that's burning - it's her
hands...
"The rainbow..." Faith murmurs, catching on about half a second after
I do.
Mira's hands are shooting jets of flame like an acetylene torch - green
and blue and yellow and red and white jets are arcing out and catch the
vampires like dry kindling.
They're screaming. I've never heard a vampire scream before. But I
don't feel sorry for them. All I do is think of Buffy and I start
grinning like an idiot as their dead flesh burns and melts every time
Mira so much as pokes one of them.
And then, just like that, it's over. The last vampire goes up like a
firecracker - pop pop pop - and then dusts out. Mira pants a few times
and stares at her unharmed hands. The fires shorten and then die down.
"Bitching."
My head is racing, I can't even be sure who said that. Maybe it was
me.
Someone rattles their chains. "Little help here?"
Xander. Figures.
"Yeah, get us out of here!" That was me.
"So... that's it? I was thinking something more climatic," Oz says
while Mira works at breaking my chains. Sweet that she thought of me
first. Or maybe I was just the whiniest.
At that point, the door that we were all pulled through explodes.
Considering the door was solid iron as thick as my wrist, that's
pretty impressive.
"That works," Oz says when the boom-boom-boom echo stops.
A man in combat armor - flak jacket, helmet with Plexiglas visor,
all that crap - steps through what used to be the door. He's carrying
a rifle that's almost as big as I am. The goon stops and stares down
at all of us, then starts laughing. Oh, just perfect. I know that
laugh.
"Great timing, Spike."
The vampire stops dead in his tracks and lowers the big ugly rifle
he's carrying. "Oh, bloody priceless. I should take a picture."
"Who is this?" Mira asks, a grimace on her face. She must sense him.
Buffy could do that for the last few months.
"Hello, what have we here?" Spike asks in return, smiling down at her.
Oh, God, this is going to get bad. "You must be that precious new
Slayer I've heard all about."
"He's a friend of ours. A really good friend," I say, hoping the
others will play along.
Of course they do. And of course Xander screws it up after a couple
minutes.
"Yeah. Real old, real pale kinda friend," he says as Mira is breaking
the chains holding him to the wall. He's the last one still tied up.
"What?" Mira drops Xander and he slips, still held up by one shackle.
"You're a vampire?" she snarls, dropping into a fighting crouch.
"That's right! I'm the meanest damn vampire in town and it's been too
bloody long since I killed a Slayer to prove it." That badge must be
getting to his head.
"Not today, worm," Mira snaps back, then frowns and reaches out for
the wall to steady herself.
"What? What's - " That's when I feel the tremors. A cloud of dust falls
down on us all from above.
"Oops. Looks like it was a load bearing door," Spike says, glancing up
at the cave ceiling as tiny rocks start to come tumbling down. "Well,
my work here is done. Ta-ta!"
"Damn you! Come back here, you filthy - "
Damn, she's fast. She's already halfway to the bottom of the stairs
before I can get a word in.
"Mira! Stop."
"What? He's getting away!"
"Xander! We can't get him loose."
She stares longingly up at the doorway, but only for a second, then
races over to help us, dodging falling rocks and not even getting her
hair mussed up. How do they DO that?
It's a close call, but we manage to carry Xander out - and half-carry
Faith, who's not in much better shape - before the cave comes crashing
down on our noggins.
Epilogue - Now What?
--------------------
"So...does this thing happen often around here?" Mira asks, staring
out at the ocean with a weird look on her face. She gets weird looks a
lot. Spike is long gone, naturally.
"About once a week, more or less."
"Hm. Sounds like fun," she says, not quite smiling.
"You'll outgrow that pretty fast."
"They don't build caves like they used to..." Xander interrupts, more
or less pointing at the new sinkhole over where the cavern was. Then
he staggers over to Giles and starts rambling to him.
"It wasn't the gun."
"What?" I ask, thrown for a second. It's the accent, I swear.
"That gun the vampire had, it wasn't what - what broke the cave," Mira
explains haltingly. "It was something else."
"What?"
Mira just shrugs, and shudders a little. "I don't know. It's gone now,
I think," she whispers, hunching her shoulders and never looking away
from the ocean.
"Okay..." I want to tell her she's just being paranoid, but... Slayers
know these things. And she's right. Spike's rifle wasn't that powerful,
even I know that much about guns.
"Hate to interrupt, but I'm really really really drunk. Can someone
carry me home?"
Xander. Alcoholic Xander. I don't even want to think about that now,
not on top of everything else.
"We're not too far from my place. You can crash there. You too, Oz,
Giles," Faith says before I can get a word in. That pisses me off a
little. Not that I had anything coherent in mind. It's the pettiness
principle.
"Cool. Got anything to eat? All they gave me on the way out here were
stale Whoppers. I prayed for death."
And off we go, almost just like old times. Almost.
* * * * *