Title: Angels on the Hellmouth Rewrite
Author: Knife Hand
Feedback: Constructive feedback appreciated, flames unappreciated
Spoilers: Fifth Series of Buffy, None for Dogma
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Dogma. I would buy them but I am broke.
Summary: Everyone knows the Hellmouth is the playground for Vampires and Demons, but no one realised that there were a couple of real life Angels running around as well. Not even the Angels themselves.
A/N: This is a complete rewrite of my story 'Angels on the Hellmouth' from back in 2002. The original version is still available on . For this version, however, I have completely gone back to the concept behind the story and will most likely be quite different from the original version, my improved writing abilities notwithstanding.
Tara was confused as she looked around the astounding city, and frankly she was getting sick and tired of being so confused. Honestly, several months of babbling incoherently thanks to the pesky fingers of a Hell Goddess was bad enough, but in the three weeks since Willow had restored her mind, and they had lost Buffy, she had been having strange sensations and fragments of memories that mad absolutely no sense. Now she was here, in what seemed to be part dream and part memory, but no memory that she had ever lived.
The city she was looking at was made up of impossible spires and arches, and things she could not even describe, all viewed from a small walled garden high in the city, with the outer wall not even waist high so that she could see the sweeping vista. She was dressed in a long flowing off white dress, and her hair was hanging in almost perfect ringlets around her shoulders, rather than the long straight stands she usually had. A cold wind blew through the garden, a rare event here, and she shivered, pulling her wings close around her to block the wind.
A part of Tara's mind, the part that was a shy Wiccan in love with Willow, marvelled at the concept of even having wings, but the majority of her, the part that was from the memory, knew nothing else. At the sound of footfalls behind her, she turned and saw him. The memory version of her smiled as her heart swelled just seeing him. he was tall, but just tall enough that she fit comfortably into his arms, with dark hair and deep brown eyes that she could fall into forever. He was dressed in a longish tunic and leather pants with his wings held behind his back.
'Xander' Tara thought.
"Alex." Her memory-self said.
She stood quickly, with a grace that Wiccan Tara had never possessed, and quickly crossed to him and embraced him. Gazing up into his face, she ran a slender hand down his cheek. Usually he smiled but today he had a grim expression.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
"It's the Morningstar." He said gravely.
"What did Lucifer do this time?" she asked.
Lucifer was one of the most respected of the Archangels, but he had a dramatic side that often got him into trouble.
"He tried to claim the Throne." Alex said. "He is in open Rebellion to the Creator."
"Oh no." Tara replied, in total shock. "How are the others taking it?"
"There's a massive split. Some are declaring for Lucifer. Some, centred around Michael and Metatron, are denouncing Lucifer and his followers as traitors. A few are sitting on the fence." Alex replied.
"What about us?" Tara asked.
"I can't go against the Creator. You know how I am." Alex replied.
"And I, of course, will stand with you." Tara said without hesitation.
At that Alex wrapped Tara up in a hug, encircling her warmly with his wings.
In the nature of dreams, the world dissolved around Tara and then seamlessly reformed itself into another scene. She was now standing on an open grass plain, the immediate area around her covered in temporary shelters, similar but different to modern tents. Alex was standing by her side. He was always by her side, just as she was always by his. Apart from their clothing, they were almost identical to how they had appeared back in the city-top garden, but a part of her was telling her that centuries, of not millennia, had past from that peaceful day to this turbulent one.
Gone were the simple dress and the plain tunic and pants. Tara still wore a dress, but this one was dark grey and designed for combat. The top of the dress, to the waist, was snugly form fitting, with long sleaves, while the skirt had a long slit up the right side to about two inches below the hip and the rest of the skirt had a multitude of small pleats, that could expand enough not to interfere with her footwork in ground combat. Then there was the armour. Under the skirt she had shin guards of hardened leather and metal that extended from her ankle to her knees. She had a small breastplate that covered the upper portion of her chest but did not restrict movement, her agility still being of more protection to her than the metal. Her left forearm had a hard, leather bracer that was designed as much to contain the powerful compression of her bow as it was to deflect the strikes of enemies. Her right forearm did not have any extra protection but on that hand she wore a glove that had full fingers for the pointer and index fingers but were fingerless for the rest of the hand. At her right hip hung a quiver of arrows while her left hip supported a thin, flexible rapier-style sword. She held her powerful bow loosely in her left hand.
Alex was as well equipped for warfare as she was. He was dressed in sturdy leather clothes, tunic, pants and boots, in shades of brown. Like Tara, he had shin guards and a breastplate, but his breastplate covered him from neck to waist, and he had a bracer on each wrist that was sturdier than hers as they were primarily for defence. He also wore a helmet which covered the back of his neck and had cheek plates on hinges to protect the side of his face. At his left hip was a pair of slightly curved sword, one longer than the other, that bore a resemblance to the Japanese Katana and Wakizashi, the paired swords of the Samurai.
"Come on, Love." Alex said. "Michael and Metatron are waiting."
Tara and Alex walked a few 'tents' over to find Michael and Metatron waiting. Michael, stocky and with a sever haircut, was dressed all in black with very similar armour to Alex, but he had a simple but effective short sword instead of Alex's paired swords. Metatron, looking older than the other three, was dressed in bone white and was armed with a two handed hammer. Alex, Michael and Metatron began discussing strategy but something was niggling at memory Tara's consciousness. She looked up and, purely on reflex, pulled an arrow from her quiver, knocked it, drew and released before what she was seeing even really registered. The Fallen Angel, circling above on reconnaissance, screamed as Tara's arrow ripped though his side and he pulled away from the loyalist camp, his wings flapping hard as three Loyalist Angels took to the air in pursuit. For a moment bit Wiccan Tara and Angel Tara felt a pang of guilt and sorrow, but then Angel Tara clamped down hard on it. This was war.
Tara jerked awake, feeling Willow snuggling against her side. After a few seconds Willow awoke too, staring up at her girlfriend as if at a lifeline. The entire gang had been barely hanging on in the last few weeks. Tara and, surprisingly, Xander seeming to be the ones handling the compiled loss the best. First Joyce, the woman who had been like a mother to the entire gang, had died from complications after surgery on a brain tumour, and then Buffy's sacrifice to save the world.
"Come on, baby." Tara said gently. "Let's go to the Magic Box."
Willow numbly nodded, her eyes still red from the bout of crying the previous night. Everyone was better when they were together. Ok, not better, but they coped more. After quickly getting dressed, Tara went out into the hall to wake Dawn. It was a bit weird, Willow and Tara having moved into the Summers house to take care of Dawn.
"Dawnie?" Tara said, opening the door to the younger girl's room.
Unlike Willow, who was almost constantly crying, Dawn had gone quiet after the death of her sister. For the normally almost hyperactive girl, that was quite concerning behaviour. Dawn slowly turned her head to look at Tara, a slight spark returning to her eyes when she registered the Wiccan's presence.
"Tara." Dawn said. "What's up?"
"We're heading into the Magic Box." Tara replied.
Dawn simply nodded her head and began to mechanically get dressed. It was not too long before the trio walked into the Magic Box. The rest were waiting there for them. Giles was at the table, absently reading one of the tomes. Anya was behind the counter, counting the money. Xander was standing by one of the shelves. Dawn was the first to enter and immediately went over to Xander, who gave her a hug. After the hug, Dawn went to the table and sat down next to Giles. By that time, Willow was half way to the table herself as Xander looked up and locked eyes with Tara.
The moment their eyes met, a million things went though Tara's mind. The images from the dream. Standing side by side with Alex on a river bank. Fighting back to back with Alex. Lying with Alex in bed with one bare leg thrown across his thighs. Faster and faster the images flowed, with only one constant, she was always with Alex.
Xander and Tara both dropped to the floor at the same time and were engulfed in a brilliant white light. The rest of the gang immediately moved to help but were stopped by a voice.
"I wouldn't touch them."
They turned to see a middle age man in a decent suit with a cocky looking smile on his face.
"Who the hell are you?" Dawn demanded.
"I am Metatron." The man announced.
"Good Lord." Giles exclaimed in shock. "The Voice."
"About bloody time. I mean two hundred years is a bit rich." The man muttered.
"Still in the dark here." Willow said. "What is happening."
"Two old friends are coming home." Metatron replied.
"Alex?" Tara's voice came from the ground, but it was different, full of confidence.
"I am here." Xander replied, again his voice more confident and, to the girls at least, sexier.
Tara and Xander's still glowing hands reached out to grab each other.
"I'm sorry, my friends." Metatron said. "But this bit's really going to hurt."
The scream that was ripped from Tara and Xander's throats was almost unbearable to listen to, as were the sounds of cracking bones and muscle and sinew being ripped apart and reformed. By the time the light faded, Anya had slipped below the counter and was shuddering, Dawn and Willow had vomited and Giles was a white as a sheet.
As Xander and Tara struggled to their feet, now with six and a half foot wings protruding from their backs, the entire group suddenly felt much better.
"I think some introductions are in order." Metatron said. "May I present Alex, the Angel of Loyalty and Tara, the Angel of Tenderness."
"Um… hi." Willow said with a shy wave, reactivating a very old reflex.
"Never change, Wills." Alex said. "Never change."
TBC…