After the Storm
Chapter 12
By Vixen
Months passed while the four heroes got used to the new dimension, how much time had passed in the other world, their world, was uncertain. It wasn't something any of them really liked to think about. For the time being, they were a part of the tribe. They moved with them, becoming accustomed to the nomadic lifestyle. They trained with them, teaching the warriors of the tribe the basics of demon fighting.
Each day was a struggle though. Learning the ways of their new home, accepting the traditions that seemed haphazard and lacked meaning for those from Los Angeles, and fighting off the daily threats by whatever demon or creature came their way. Though the hardest part was learning to let go. To accept that there might not be a way out of their new world, and that no one was going to rescue them and haul their collective asses out of the barren desert wasteland.
From time to time Gunn found himself thinking back to those who were no longer with them. Thoughts would drift in unwillingly, and though he tried to live one day at a time, there was something about the people in the past that kept gnawing at his heart.
Wesley.
Fred.
If Wesley had been there with them, they would have been able to get home. No doubt about it. He'd gotten them in and out of Pylea before; he was good with the magical mumbo-jumbo. He always knew the right incantation; the right words to say to get them back home in one piece. There was no one like that here, Gunn admitted. They needed an expert in the magical arts, but between the four lost souls, neither of them knew a damn thing about portals. They were just big swirly things that caused more problems than they fixed to Gunn. He'd given up hope of finding the way back a month or two ago. This was it, unless some great miracle occurred and saved them all, but Gunn doubted that would happen. If Wesley had been there though.. but he refused to think about that too much.
Then there was Fred. She had lived five years in Pylea. Five years where she was considered a work slave, a cow, and nothing more. She had survived it all, and in the end made it back home. Her experience made her stronger, a fighter till the end when Illyria had taken over her body. Gunn didn't know how much more of the new dimension he could take. It wasn't as bad as Pylea, far from it once he got used to the daily grind, but still he miss LA, his home, the streets, playing some ball, listening to music, Lakers basketball games on tv, hot dogs, his pick up truck, a million other things could be added to that list if he allowed himself to think about it for long.
Today had been a somewhat relaxing day however. The four newcomers usually took turns training anyone in the tribe who chose to learn the art of self- defense, today it was Spike's turn. Gunn, on the other hand, had taken the day off and joined a couple of the local kids. In return for his previous lessons, the three teenagers had decided to teach Gunn a sport; the only one they knew how to play. It had been taught as a training exercise to the younger generations, something to help them build muscles and hand-eye coordination. Today, they taught it to Gunn for the sole reason that the man seemed to miss the games back in his own dimension.
"All right, let's see how this goes," Gunn said as a boy with reddish hair from the other team tossed him a primitive looking ball. It was nothing more than a couple of tanned skins stitched together and packed with corn kernels. There was a hoop carved into a ledge above their heads that hung vertically between the two teams. "So, how many points is it if I make it through the hoop."
"One point if you get it through the hoop, none if the other team catches it," A tall girl with black hair, the other player on Gunn's team, told him. The game was something between tennis and basketball, and as the day wore on Gunn seemed to get the hang of it. The more he played it, the more it felt like home, and it eased the homesickness at least a little. It was as close as he could get to playing hoops at home for the time being, and for that Gunn was grateful.
.
Around the corner from the sports area of the valley, past the mouth of the main entrance to the system of cave dwellings the tribe had set up, Spike and Illyria had gotten to work helping the locals train in hand-to-hand combat. Thirty or so warriors, both men and women, performed karate katas simultaneously.
For Spike, it took him back to the days in Sunnydale when Buffy had set up the little fighting club for the potentials, which only brought back feelings he didn't need. Not now. He refused to think about Buffy after they had arrived through the portal, when there was no chance of returning. Of course, he had also refused to think about Buffy after he was revived in Los Angeles after apparently dying the death of a hero when the hellmouth collapsed. His insistence that he forget her didn't seem to work either time.
However, it wasn't so bad in his new home. He got to walk in the sun everyday. At Wolfram and Hart they had that special glass, which had been good enough back then. It had actually been amazing back then, peering through the windows at the world he had left behind one hundred and twenty- three years before, when he had been sired and adopted the lifestyle of the dead and soulless. Still, seeing the world in sunlight when he couldn't walk in it had been annoying so say the least. Seeing everyone on the city streets happily traveling around in the sun while he had to stay locked behind doors until nightfall had been enough for him to try to leave the place when he first arrived as a ghost. If only he hadn't felt the deep connection to Wolfram and Hart and the need to do something useful with his undead ghostliness.
All those turn of events had led Spike here, to this land where he could walkabout under the warmth of the sun, freckling and tanning. Who knew vampires could tan if they got out into the sun! Spike's total paleness had turned a light tan color, which only darkened as the days went on. He was highly amused at it all.
Illyria also amused him. They fought, they bickered, they kicked the shit out of each other. It was good times all around. Today, he watched as each person in the practicing group tried out their skills on Little Blue. She was under strict orders not to permanently injure them, but she did have fun putting them through their paces. Spike could tell that holding back her strength was a task Illyria was not familiar with because every now and then she would send one of her opponents careening towards a wall of the cave. She let a small smile form on her lips after flipping one of them with a back kick. Then she simply turned to the next one in line, calling them forth with a steady, "Next."
Spike walked between the rows of trainees, stopping to tell one of them "Bloody hell, where'd you learn to throw a punch like that." He corrected the warrior's form, and moved on to the next row. Every so often he would turn back towards Illyria, watching her best anyone who seemed too cocky. However, by now most of them had learned not to put anything past her. She might not have all of her powers after Wesley had to suck some out of her so that her human form wouldn't explode, but she was still a goddess. She still had the ego and the kick ass moves. Although, Spike would mentally smack himself whenever he caught himself looking at her.
When a large enough number of the fighters had been knocked out, or other wise beaten by her skills, he clapped his hands and turned to the group, "Think that's enough for today. Go nurse your bruises, be back here tomorrow morning." There was a collective groan as his students hobbled off the field. Spike could feel Illyria's presence as she moved behind him, starring at him with eyes the color of the endless sky. She could have built a cult for herself here, but had relented in helping them, helping him. It was beginning to unnerve Spike, "You just going to stand there or do you want something, Blue?"
"You've changed. You are not what you were when you began the journey."
He scoffed, "Tell me something I don't know."
"You like it," came her clear reply.
He stood to face her, fishing through his coat pocket for some cigarettes before realizing he had smoked his last one two weeks ago. It had become a habit since then, checking just to see if he could get the nicotine fix he still craved. "Maybe I do. What's it to you?"
"I care nothing of your affairs. I only await the rematch you spoke of," Her eyes bore into his as an unspoken understanding was reached between them. There would come a time when they would have a go at each other, when they would fight evenhandedly, when they would find out what the other was made of. That time was coming shortly. Spike stood silent as Illyria turned and walked away.
.
"You miss your home," Fiyara said as she walked with Angel through the valley. She didn't spend much time with him, but the homesickness was apparent in all of them, him especially. People milled around them, going about their daily lives, Angel however stood out among them all. He had a darker look to his eye, a heavy weight held in his shoulders. Guilt. Remorse. Something he still hoped to change. Something he would never be able to.
"It's not that I don't appreciate your hospitality. Because I do. We do," Angel said, sounding repentant. "But this isn't our place. I've tried to make the best of it, but we don't belong here. I'm sorry."
"I understand," she nodded and fell quiet once more.
They passed by a young boy whom Angel had never noticed before. He was so little, only about eight years old. Wearing animal skins, he played in the dirt, drawing pictures in the sandy desert floor. It was his only source of entertainment as the people jostled by, going about their work to ensure the safety of the tribe.
Immediately, Angel thought of Connor, and then chided himself for the thought. It had been painful enough thinking about his son and the things Connor never had growing up when he was in his own world. Now here, seeing the difference between a life in a parallel world and the one Angel wished he could have given Connor. This wasn't a hell dimension, but it wasn't the place for a child either.
Fiyara saw the look on Angel's face and nodded towards the child, "His name is Terrin. He hasn't spoke since he saw his father die in battle."
Angel excused himself and slowly moved over towards the kid. Sitting down on a rock next to the child, he just watched Terrin. He had floppy brown hair and a slightly disheveled appearance, he looked almost like what Angel imaged Connor did at his age. The boy didn't seem to notice him for a second, and when he did said nothing. He only looked up with weary eyes that contained a sadness no child should ever know.
Angel ventured a soft greeting, "Hello."
The corners of Terrin's mouth lifted up slightly, for only a brief second, and he went back to silently making lines in the sand.
......................................................
Just wanted to let all you readers know that I'm going on vacation for a week. I will try to update this story at least three times while on vacation. That is, if the resort really does have wireless Internet access. One of the employees said it did, one of them said it didn't. I'm not sure. Let's all cross our fingers and pray to Joss that everything works out.
Chapter 12
By Vixen
Months passed while the four heroes got used to the new dimension, how much time had passed in the other world, their world, was uncertain. It wasn't something any of them really liked to think about. For the time being, they were a part of the tribe. They moved with them, becoming accustomed to the nomadic lifestyle. They trained with them, teaching the warriors of the tribe the basics of demon fighting.
Each day was a struggle though. Learning the ways of their new home, accepting the traditions that seemed haphazard and lacked meaning for those from Los Angeles, and fighting off the daily threats by whatever demon or creature came their way. Though the hardest part was learning to let go. To accept that there might not be a way out of their new world, and that no one was going to rescue them and haul their collective asses out of the barren desert wasteland.
From time to time Gunn found himself thinking back to those who were no longer with them. Thoughts would drift in unwillingly, and though he tried to live one day at a time, there was something about the people in the past that kept gnawing at his heart.
Wesley.
Fred.
If Wesley had been there with them, they would have been able to get home. No doubt about it. He'd gotten them in and out of Pylea before; he was good with the magical mumbo-jumbo. He always knew the right incantation; the right words to say to get them back home in one piece. There was no one like that here, Gunn admitted. They needed an expert in the magical arts, but between the four lost souls, neither of them knew a damn thing about portals. They were just big swirly things that caused more problems than they fixed to Gunn. He'd given up hope of finding the way back a month or two ago. This was it, unless some great miracle occurred and saved them all, but Gunn doubted that would happen. If Wesley had been there though.. but he refused to think about that too much.
Then there was Fred. She had lived five years in Pylea. Five years where she was considered a work slave, a cow, and nothing more. She had survived it all, and in the end made it back home. Her experience made her stronger, a fighter till the end when Illyria had taken over her body. Gunn didn't know how much more of the new dimension he could take. It wasn't as bad as Pylea, far from it once he got used to the daily grind, but still he miss LA, his home, the streets, playing some ball, listening to music, Lakers basketball games on tv, hot dogs, his pick up truck, a million other things could be added to that list if he allowed himself to think about it for long.
Today had been a somewhat relaxing day however. The four newcomers usually took turns training anyone in the tribe who chose to learn the art of self- defense, today it was Spike's turn. Gunn, on the other hand, had taken the day off and joined a couple of the local kids. In return for his previous lessons, the three teenagers had decided to teach Gunn a sport; the only one they knew how to play. It had been taught as a training exercise to the younger generations, something to help them build muscles and hand-eye coordination. Today, they taught it to Gunn for the sole reason that the man seemed to miss the games back in his own dimension.
"All right, let's see how this goes," Gunn said as a boy with reddish hair from the other team tossed him a primitive looking ball. It was nothing more than a couple of tanned skins stitched together and packed with corn kernels. There was a hoop carved into a ledge above their heads that hung vertically between the two teams. "So, how many points is it if I make it through the hoop."
"One point if you get it through the hoop, none if the other team catches it," A tall girl with black hair, the other player on Gunn's team, told him. The game was something between tennis and basketball, and as the day wore on Gunn seemed to get the hang of it. The more he played it, the more it felt like home, and it eased the homesickness at least a little. It was as close as he could get to playing hoops at home for the time being, and for that Gunn was grateful.
.
Around the corner from the sports area of the valley, past the mouth of the main entrance to the system of cave dwellings the tribe had set up, Spike and Illyria had gotten to work helping the locals train in hand-to-hand combat. Thirty or so warriors, both men and women, performed karate katas simultaneously.
For Spike, it took him back to the days in Sunnydale when Buffy had set up the little fighting club for the potentials, which only brought back feelings he didn't need. Not now. He refused to think about Buffy after they had arrived through the portal, when there was no chance of returning. Of course, he had also refused to think about Buffy after he was revived in Los Angeles after apparently dying the death of a hero when the hellmouth collapsed. His insistence that he forget her didn't seem to work either time.
However, it wasn't so bad in his new home. He got to walk in the sun everyday. At Wolfram and Hart they had that special glass, which had been good enough back then. It had actually been amazing back then, peering through the windows at the world he had left behind one hundred and twenty- three years before, when he had been sired and adopted the lifestyle of the dead and soulless. Still, seeing the world in sunlight when he couldn't walk in it had been annoying so say the least. Seeing everyone on the city streets happily traveling around in the sun while he had to stay locked behind doors until nightfall had been enough for him to try to leave the place when he first arrived as a ghost. If only he hadn't felt the deep connection to Wolfram and Hart and the need to do something useful with his undead ghostliness.
All those turn of events had led Spike here, to this land where he could walkabout under the warmth of the sun, freckling and tanning. Who knew vampires could tan if they got out into the sun! Spike's total paleness had turned a light tan color, which only darkened as the days went on. He was highly amused at it all.
Illyria also amused him. They fought, they bickered, they kicked the shit out of each other. It was good times all around. Today, he watched as each person in the practicing group tried out their skills on Little Blue. She was under strict orders not to permanently injure them, but she did have fun putting them through their paces. Spike could tell that holding back her strength was a task Illyria was not familiar with because every now and then she would send one of her opponents careening towards a wall of the cave. She let a small smile form on her lips after flipping one of them with a back kick. Then she simply turned to the next one in line, calling them forth with a steady, "Next."
Spike walked between the rows of trainees, stopping to tell one of them "Bloody hell, where'd you learn to throw a punch like that." He corrected the warrior's form, and moved on to the next row. Every so often he would turn back towards Illyria, watching her best anyone who seemed too cocky. However, by now most of them had learned not to put anything past her. She might not have all of her powers after Wesley had to suck some out of her so that her human form wouldn't explode, but she was still a goddess. She still had the ego and the kick ass moves. Although, Spike would mentally smack himself whenever he caught himself looking at her.
When a large enough number of the fighters had been knocked out, or other wise beaten by her skills, he clapped his hands and turned to the group, "Think that's enough for today. Go nurse your bruises, be back here tomorrow morning." There was a collective groan as his students hobbled off the field. Spike could feel Illyria's presence as she moved behind him, starring at him with eyes the color of the endless sky. She could have built a cult for herself here, but had relented in helping them, helping him. It was beginning to unnerve Spike, "You just going to stand there or do you want something, Blue?"
"You've changed. You are not what you were when you began the journey."
He scoffed, "Tell me something I don't know."
"You like it," came her clear reply.
He stood to face her, fishing through his coat pocket for some cigarettes before realizing he had smoked his last one two weeks ago. It had become a habit since then, checking just to see if he could get the nicotine fix he still craved. "Maybe I do. What's it to you?"
"I care nothing of your affairs. I only await the rematch you spoke of," Her eyes bore into his as an unspoken understanding was reached between them. There would come a time when they would have a go at each other, when they would fight evenhandedly, when they would find out what the other was made of. That time was coming shortly. Spike stood silent as Illyria turned and walked away.
.
"You miss your home," Fiyara said as she walked with Angel through the valley. She didn't spend much time with him, but the homesickness was apparent in all of them, him especially. People milled around them, going about their daily lives, Angel however stood out among them all. He had a darker look to his eye, a heavy weight held in his shoulders. Guilt. Remorse. Something he still hoped to change. Something he would never be able to.
"It's not that I don't appreciate your hospitality. Because I do. We do," Angel said, sounding repentant. "But this isn't our place. I've tried to make the best of it, but we don't belong here. I'm sorry."
"I understand," she nodded and fell quiet once more.
They passed by a young boy whom Angel had never noticed before. He was so little, only about eight years old. Wearing animal skins, he played in the dirt, drawing pictures in the sandy desert floor. It was his only source of entertainment as the people jostled by, going about their work to ensure the safety of the tribe.
Immediately, Angel thought of Connor, and then chided himself for the thought. It had been painful enough thinking about his son and the things Connor never had growing up when he was in his own world. Now here, seeing the difference between a life in a parallel world and the one Angel wished he could have given Connor. This wasn't a hell dimension, but it wasn't the place for a child either.
Fiyara saw the look on Angel's face and nodded towards the child, "His name is Terrin. He hasn't spoke since he saw his father die in battle."
Angel excused himself and slowly moved over towards the kid. Sitting down on a rock next to the child, he just watched Terrin. He had floppy brown hair and a slightly disheveled appearance, he looked almost like what Angel imaged Connor did at his age. The boy didn't seem to notice him for a second, and when he did said nothing. He only looked up with weary eyes that contained a sadness no child should ever know.
Angel ventured a soft greeting, "Hello."
The corners of Terrin's mouth lifted up slightly, for only a brief second, and he went back to silently making lines in the sand.
......................................................
Just wanted to let all you readers know that I'm going on vacation for a week. I will try to update this story at least three times while on vacation. That is, if the resort really does have wireless Internet access. One of the employees said it did, one of them said it didn't. I'm not sure. Let's all cross our fingers and pray to Joss that everything works out.