The Wheel of the Year

by Nymue

[COMPLETE] S5 serial that revolves around all the characters with an emphasis on Buffy and takes place during or around the eight Sabbats and explores how the characters relate to their reality at a given point in time.

7. The Rites of May

TITLE: The Rites of May

SERIES: Wheel of the Year

AUTHOR: Nymue

EMAIL: josette@aol.com

RATED: R (for m/f sexuality)

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Not yours. They belong to Joss, the WB, UPN and FOX. This is a not-for-profit fanfiction. No infringement is intended.

SUMMARY: Wherein it's Beltane Eve in Sunnydale and Buffy learns of a surprise planned by Willow and Tara.

SPOILERS: Remember, this takes place in Season 5. Set a few days before "Tough Love" and "Belonging."

SERIES CHRONOLOGY: Follows "Equipoise."

NOTE: Incantations and rituals adapted from "The Spiral Dance" by Starhawk, "A Witches' Bible" by Janet and Stewart Farrar and "The Encyclopedia of Celtic Wisdom" by Caitlin & John Matthews. I have taken artistic liberties (altering ritual, mixing mythology) with the celebration of Beltane in order to tell this story, but I did want this particular piece to have a strong ritualistic bent (and no one does that better than the Gardnerians) -- just with a Sunnydale twist. Please, no flames.

FEEDBACK: Is much appreciated.

***

Come with me now to the land of music,

and of soft winding primrose hair,

and bodies the color of fresh snow,

bright teeth under reddest lips.

Every neck is sweetly pink, every

body smooth, every brow dark,

every cheek like a pale foxglove.

Come with me to the land of youth.

-- Irish song to the goddess Edain

***

Spring in Sunnydale was always a site to behold. Glorious color and warmer weather settled across the landscape and urged people outdoors to frolic in the warmth of the sun. However, there was a razor sharp edge to this beauty that underlay the peace and serenity of an afternoon in Hammersmith Park, that of the forces simmering just beneath the surface. Longtime residents knew that strange things happened all the time in their not-so-quiet hamlet and late spring was usually the worst, a time when something inevitably exploded. Oh, they didn't always know exactly what had occurred, but more often than not they knew when it was over, felt the tension reach its crescendo and burst. Afterwards they all breathed a sigh of relief because that strange feeling, much like ears popping at the peak of the mountain, heralded the beginnings of a summer that was inevitably quiet and less catastrophic. However, at that moment little of this mattered to the people out enjoying the day. They were content to play and talk and have fun until the sun began its inevitable descent, so none noticed the two women laying side by side in a copse of trees.

Sunlight glinted on a dizzying array of gold and red hair that was framed by the verdant grass upon which two witches rested their heads. Their fingers were laced together as they watched the clouds overhead, neither speaking but neither needing words … only a vague hum could be heard, but only if the passerby was magickally inclined. This restful idyll was not a mere whim but rather a necessity, a much-needed respite from the magick they had worked only a few short hours before. One head lolled to the side, green eyes seeking out the gentle gray-blue of her companion. 'Are we doing the right thing?' they seemed to ask.

"It'll be fine," the blonde reassured.

"Can we be certain? I don't want this to backfire on us."

Tara propped herself up on her elbow and studied her lover carefully. In truth, Willow's reserve made her deliriously happy because it wasn't often that Willow doubted her magick. However, she was wise enough to know that it wasn't the magick that worried her beloved, it was the entire idea. "I think it will be okay, Will. We all know Buffy needs a break, and we were careful to choose a safe place and ward it well. And we recruited Dawn to help."

"And we told Xander and Giles so they wouldn't worry," Willow finished.

"We've done everything we can for now except relax," Tara reiterated.

Willow sighed. "And wait for nightfall."

***

"Run that by me again?" Buffy asked incredulously, unable to even begin to imagine what her friends and her sister -- her *sister* -- had planned.

"It's actually very simple," Anya stated. "Are you having a moment like the elderly people have? I heard that the disease could start at a young age, but I've never seen it -- "

"No," Willow interrupted. "Buffy does not have Alzheimer's."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Are we doing this?"

Buffy frowned. "Would someone please explain this again? Slowly? And explain why we're here?"

Tara looked up from her preparations and followed the Slayer's gaze, vaguely hearing Willow explain their choice of meeting place to Buffy. Of course, she realized it was to be expected that Buffy had some issues with the chosen location. She herself was not very comfortable with the mansion on Crawford Street, but it was the most secure location they could find on short notice and it cost them nothing. Points there, as Willow would say. Still, she couldn't help the occasional shiver that slid down her spine; while they had cleansed and warded the room they were using, Angel's old bedroom according to Willow, Tara still thought she felt evil in the walls. Which was entirely possible, although she doubted it was anything more than memory traces left by the sheer magnitude of the events that had transpired here in the past.

"Tara?" Willow prompted.

"What?" she responded, then flushed as she saw the eyes turned toward her. "Oh, the explanation."

Buffy gave the blonde witch a sad smile and dropped to the floor to sit in front of her, their knees not quite touching as the Slayer watched her friend make a few last minute preparations. "Is it just too complicated?"

"N-no," Tara told her. "You need a break, just a little one to help you keep your balance … a-and this ritual could be considered the break you need."

"What … I mean, how does this work? What's Dawn got to do with this?"

"It's the Beltane ritual," Willow said softly, sinking to her knees next to her best friend and her lover. "It's about fire and fertility and hope -- "

"It's about sex," Anya interjected.

Willow shot her a dirty look.

"What?" Anya retorted. "It is. May Day, La Bealtaine, Beltane Eve or Beltane, whichever you choose, is about ritual sex. Yeah, it's for the good of the crops -- "

"The rekindling of the Need-Fire from nine different woods -- " Willow interrupted.

"The joining of the Goddess with the young God," Tara finished.

Buffy blanched, her eyes darting towards Dawn. "Um, guys … if this is about ritual sex, like last August … "

"Lughnasa," Anya helped.

"Yeah," the Slayer responded. "Should Dawn be here? I mean … "

"Oh," Tara said in realization, her eyes widening. "Oh, no, Buffy, it's nothing like that … only you will be involved."

"Huh?" this came from Buffy and Dawn, both their faces covered with confused and apprehensive looks.

"Ritual sex? Last August?" Dawn said rapidly. "Is there something I should know?"

The other four women exchanged a look, questions asked and answered within a fraction of a second. "I think this is a case of don't ask, don't tell, Dawnie," Willow answered, the teenager's eyes growing wide as she tried to both imagine and ignore the scenario that was playing out in her mind.

"Still … " Buffy started.

"It won't be real," Tara explained. "You'll be in a trance state which is where the ritual s-sex comes in."

"Astral sex," Anya said bluntly.

"Who am I supposed to … " Buffy's voice trailed off, her unspoken question hanging in the air like the sword of Damocles.

Willow shifted. "He'll come to you."

"What?"

"You'll see people, Buffy, probably the men in your life," Tara continued. "But only one will kill the stag king and thus take his place."

"Stags?" Buffy sounded bewildered.

Tara placed a reassuring hand atop the Slayer's trembling knees. "Just remember -- you'll know, and so will he. While only the successful hunter will find his way to you, you'll have to consider them all, place them in your life. Those left … the ones who are n-not family … they'll hunt, but only one can win."

"Win?"

"You'll be the embodiment of the Goddess," Willow clarified. "The King Stag embodies the Oak King, the God … supposedly, in older times, every year the fiercest hunter would hunt the alpha stag in the forest and the winner symbolically became the King Stag, the God, and, uh … "

"Mates with the Goddess, or the woman embodying the Goddess," Anya finished.

"Only you'll be doing it in a trance," Willow added hastily.

Buffy chewed on her lip and nodded. In truth, it didn't sound any worse than some of the other rituals in which she had taken part over the past few months and, even when painful, the results, the catharsis, had been worth the trouble. Even the idea of embodying the Goddess didn't seem all that odd, especially with a hell-god in town … strange to think of it that way, but it made a peculiar sort of sense. Who was to say what made a goddess? Only …

"Is this safe?"

Willow and Tara both nodded. "We cleansed the room and warded the entire house," Willow told her. "And we made sure that the wards were strong but fusible -- "

"Fusible?"

"Natural," Tara explained. "The wards are fused into the house itself, into the land around it, like they were here all along. Unless you knew otherwise, you wouldn't guess the wards were new."

"So anything we do here is safe," Willow finished.

"Wasn't that hard? I mean, that level of warding … it's stronger than the spell to revoke a vampire's invitation, isn't it? I remember Giles telling me about a town that was warded even though vampires had lived inside once … "

The two witches exchanged glances and Anya looked up, eyes widening as she realized what had been done. "You set wards into the ground the house sits on," she said slowly. "Even if the house is gone the ground is safe and so is anything else that's built later … Buffy's right, that strong -- *really* strong -- magick. How did the two of you manage it?"

Tara fidgeted for a moment and Willow shrugged. "Well … we only sort of did it … we're safe here for tonight and tomorrow, but not after. We weren't strong enough to make the fused wards permanent, so in twenty-four hours they'll just dissolve. Until then, though … "

"This place is essentially sacred ground, naturally sacred ground to anyone who doesn't know better," Anya finished. "That's … impressive."

Buffy exhaled the breath she's been holding, her worry over Dawn's safety easing enough to allow her to contemplate the ritual in which she was being asked to participate. Still, there was the Dawn issue. "And Dawn?"

Tara stirred from her place. "She's here to take your place in the circle because you can't do both."

"Oh … "

"It's perfectly safe, Buffy, you know that," Willow reminded.

"I know, I know … I guess it's okay … "

Tara smiled. "Then we should get started."

They stood and all but Tara and Buffy left the room as the Slayer turned to the witch and raised her eyebrows, confusion and wariness obvious in her hazel-green orbs. Tara smiled gently and tried to put the Slayer at ease, "Although we're adapting this ritual, there are still a few smaller parts that must be observed."

"Such as?"

Tara's voice faltered for a second before she was able to continue, her stutter a bit more pronounced than it had been in months. "I-I need you t-to undress," she started. "There a-are some s-symbols th-th-that have to b-be … i-if you would r-rather Willow did this … "

Buffy's eyes widened with surprise. Until now, none of the rituals they had performed had required anything so ceremonial, so tradition bound; most of the time it was more an observance with a bit symbolism or custom to highlight the overall meaning. It was startling, then, to hear that this particular instance required more elaborate preparations. Did it bother her, she wondered vaguely. The answer wasn't so much of a shock as the reason; no, she realized, it didn't bother her at all, but not because she was worried about the implications. That this ritual required bodily preparations did worry the Slayer, but she felt at ease for the simple reason that she trusted the blonde witch before her. In fact, Buffy was startled by the realization that she trusted Tara to do this correctly …

And that she didn't trust Willow.

Not that she didn't trust her best friend's magick, she quickly amended. On the battlefield or in research she trusted the redhead unequivocally, but she simply did not trust Willow to prepare her correctly for this experience. Moreover, having Tara prepare her seemed right on a fundamental level, as if this was more than what it appeared on the surface. The unexpected memory of her experience with the First Slayer flashed in her mind and Buffy was suddenly struck with the realization that perhaps her dream had been telling her something else when it picked Tara to speak for the Primal. A simple look into Tara's eyes showed Buffy that the blonde seemed to know or sense this as well, but that she was willing to bow out if Buffy was uncomfortable.

"Tara, no," Buffy whispered as she reached out to clutch the other woman's hands. "I trust you … I trust you to do this. I want *you* to do this."

Tara simply nodded. "A-alright. I need you to undress … everything, even jewelry."

"Okay," Buffy exhaled, pulling her shirt over her head as she toed off her shoes. She shimmied out of her pants and the bikinis before unhooking the bra that landed on top of the pile of clothes, tilting her head to unfasten her earrings and kneeling down to stuff them in her pants pocket. Then she stood in a fluid motion, pulling her hair loose from its clasp and dropping it on the pile as she faced the witch.

"Now what?"

"Now I start here," Tara told her softly, brushing her fingertips along the Slayer's forehead. Buffy shivered slightly when a draft in the room passed over the paste left behind by the witch's fingers and gasped as she felt the area begin to warm ever so slightly. Her breath caught as Tara's fingers trailed across her face and down her throat, gently but firmly leaving a trail of dark colored markings.

Buffy felt herself floating in her skin as Tara continued her ministrations, a feeling that was not euphoric but was most assuredly calming slowly spiraling through her blood and leaving her helpless in the witch's hands. However, unlike other instances in her life Buffy did not fear her sudden lack of control, quite the contrary. For the first time in ages the Slayer felt safe and loved, her all encompassing trust in the witch allowing her to simply let go of her burdens and responsibilities for a short time. Which was not to say she could not feel, she thought, for she felt each stroke and touch as clearly as the first, but the feel was … different. Similar to that of a mother caring for her child but not quite. No, not mother and child, she realized as she felt Tara's fingers slide between her thighs and press against her sex before continuing down her thighs. Yet there was no desire, no passion, just the feeling of …

Mentor, Buffy's mind supplied as Tara painted the backs of her legs, mentor and student. Which made sense as it was Tara who typically took the lead during their rituals although it was Willow who more often used her power on the battlefield. After a fashion, Tara had become her mentor to the ways and means of magick. Oh, yes, Giles had definitely had a hand in her training, but it had been the soft-spoken woman who had explained and illustrated and gently prodded the Slayer's burgeoning understanding of the metaphysical forces.

A voice on the edge of her consciousness laughed, surprising Buffy and jolting her slightly from her warm cocoon. No, she whispered, not mentor. Priestess. Priestess and Initiate.

Buffy was more startled than threatened by this seeming intrusion and cast out her senses, finding that the voice that had spoken came from within. How curious, she thought as she felt Tara moving away. Perhaps it was simply the scattered pieces of her training pulling together to supply a much needed answer … or maybe it was the essence of the Slayer reminding her that there was still much to learn.

"So mote it be."

Buffy thought Tara's voice sounded shaky, but was distracted almost immediately as she began to feel a new type of warmth even as the calming buffer slowly slid away and left her once more aware of the world around her. For her part, Tara looked slightly astonished, as if she hadn't known she was capable of what she had just accomplished. When Willow and the others entered the room a few moments later their faces also reflected surprise and astonishment. Dawn's startled gasp echoed in the cavernous room and drowned out the audible responses from her two companions.

Willow's eyes widened as she took in the change in her best friend. Dark reddish-brown runes and other symbols covered every inch of the Slayer's body, her creamy skin merely the canvas upon which Tara had created a magickal masterpiece. Buffy seemed to glow in the low light, radiance personified, and Willow shook her head slightly in order to see more clearly the details that adorned the Slayer's flesh. The runes she easily and quickly comprehended along with most of the symbols, but there were one or two decorations that she could not remember seeing even in the oldest tomes that Giles kept carefully tucked away. Or rather, she had no knowledge of the symbols although she clearly remembered them from her First Slayer dream a year earlier. A sideways glance at her lover confirmed that the blonde was also unaware of the origins of the symbols, but felt that they were not only innocuous but somehow right for the occasion.

"Wow," she whispered.

Buffy chewed on her lip for a moment. "Is it …?"

"Buffy," Dawn murmured, her voice awestruck. "You're … you look beautiful … "

Anya tilted her head and gazed at the Slayer then shrugged. "It's a look I wouldn't have thought of for you, but it works."

Willow turned to the former demon with a question on her lips but Anya simply shook her head. "Not sure," was all she would whisper.

Dawn spared the two a glance while Tara settled Buffy in the center of the circle. "Not sure about what?"

The two exchanged a glance. "It's nothing to worry about, Dawnie," Willow soothed. "We were just trying to catalogue all the symbols, you know, see if we knew them all, that sort of thing."

"Do you?"

"We've seen them all before," Anya answered evasively.

"Oh … "

Tara interrupted. "Are you ready?"

The three nodded and quickly took their places, Dawn sitting in the East to replace the void left by her sister. Despite yearning for this moment for ages Dawn found herself more than a little nervous; she had always believed that she would be able to participate in these rituals one day, but she had never thought that her first time would be something this big. Oh, granted, Tara had explained that there were more elaborate or emotionally draining rituals -- and why had she looked that way when she mentioned that? -- but Dawn still felt unsettled. If nothing else, it was way wiggy that her sister was reclining on pillows in front of her nude and covered in all sorts of symbols and other markings. Oh no, no pressure there. No pressure at all.

Nervously, Dawn dipped her fingers into the cup of water that sat in front of her and flicked the droplets into the air. "Welcome our minds to you essence, Air, and grant us your dominion and protection."

Anya took the cup from Dawn and repeated her actions. "Welcome our hearts to your essence, Fire, and grant us your dominion and protection."

The cup next passed to Willow, who scattered water and chanted, "Welcome our lives to your essence, Water, and grant us your dominion and protection."

Willow passed the water to Tara. "Welcome our bodies to your essence, Earth, and grant us your dominion and protection." With the last of the water scattered, Tara spoke once more, "The circle is cast. We are between the worlds, beyond the bounds of time, where night and day, birth and death, joy and sorrow, meet as one. We gather tonight to celebrate the union of Our Lady, the Maiden of Spring and the Oak King, the Lord of the Waxing Year, who meet in the greening fields and rejoice. The shaft of life is twined in a spiral web and all nature is renewed … we meet in the time of flowering, to dance the dance of life."

Anya straightened her back and sprinkled sparkly dust over the brazier just slightly to her right, the pale tendrils of scented smoke curling toward the ceiling, and then extinguished the flame as she spoke. "Now listen to the words of the Great Mother; She who of old was also called among men: Artemis, Astarte, Athene, Dione, Melusine, Aphrodite, Cerridwen, Dana, Arianrhod, Isis, Bride, and by many other names."

Leaning forward Dawn blew out the candle in front of her and replayed the words in her head one last time before she spoke. "Whenever you have need of anything, once in the month, and better it be when the moon is full, then shall ye assemble in some secret place and adore the spirit of me, who am Queen of all the Wise. There shall ye assemble, ye who are fain to learn all sorcery, yet have not won its deepest secrets; to these will I teach things that are yet unknown."

Tara gave Dawn an encouraging smile as the youngest member of the small coven gave an audible sigh of relief as she finished her part. Dawn smiled back briefly and Tara felt the strings of her heart tug slightly as she once more felt a flash of empathy for the girl, but she channeled the feelings into her words and blew out her candle. "And ye shall be free from slavery; and as a sign that ye be really free, ye shall be naked in your rites; and ye shall dance, sing, feast, make music and love, all in my praise. For mine is the ecstasy of the spirit, and mine also is joy on earth; for my law is love unto all beings. Keep pure your highest ideal; strive ever towards it; let naught stop you or turn you aside. For mine is the secret door which opens upon the Land of Youth, and mine is the cup of the wine of life, and the Cauldron of Cerridwen, which is the Holy Grail of immortality."

"I am the gracious Goddess, who gives the gift of joy unto the heart of man. Upon earth, I give the knowledge of the spirit eternal; and beyond death, I give peace, and freedom, and reunion with those who have gone before. Nor do I demand sacrifice; for behold, I am the Mother of all living, and my love is poured out upon the earth," Willow finished softly as she pinched the wick of her candle between two fingers, plunging the room into near total darkness.

Pale moonlight barely filtered through the drapes at the window but it was enough to allow Dawn to see the signal to begin her next part. She took a deep breath and repeated the lines she had learned just a few hours earlier. "I will go as wren in spring, with sorrow and sighing on silent wing, and I shall go in Our Lady's name. Aye, til I come home again."

"Then I will go as a mouse in May, in fields by night, in cellars by day, and I shall go in Our Lady's name. Aye, til I come home again," Anya continued.

"Then I shall go as an autumn hare, with sorrow and sighing and mickle care, and I shall go in Our Lady's name. Aye, til I come home again," Willow chanted.

Tara smiled. "Then I shall go as a winter trout, with sorrow and sighing and mickle doubt, and I shall go in Our Lady's name. Aye, til I come home again."

"Then we shall follow as falcons grey and hunt thee cruelly for our prey, and we shall go in the Good God's name. Aye, to fetch thee home again," Dawn finished with a smile, relief and pride etched on her features.

Anya eyes traced the path of moonlight and thought longingly of Bealtaines past as she murmured, "Then we shall follow as black tom cats and hunt thee through the corn and vats, and we shall go in the Good God's name. Aye, to fetch thee home again."

"Then we shall follow as swift greyhounds and hunt thy tracks by leaps and bounds, and we shall go in the Good God's name. Aye, to fetch thee home again," Willow recited softly.

"Then we shall follow as otters swift and snare thee fast ere thou canst shift, and we shall go in the Good God's name. Aye, to fetch thee home again," Tara whispered in closing.

"Go in the Lady's name, Buffy, and we shall fetch thee home again … "

***

To fetch thee home again …

To fetch thee home …

Fetch thee …

Home …

The words echoed in Buffy's mind as she felt herself falling through nothingness, sailing on a sea of fluffy down and encased in soft linen. Their chants and feelings, the magick they had woven into their words had eased her into a peaceful tranquility that allowed her to sink into the depths of her mind and discover all the hidden facets therein. She floated on a cloud of calm but firm intentions, safe in the knowledge that her friends, her family, would see her safely home when the time was right.

After an indeterminable time she began to feel the world around her once more. Beneath her bare feet was cool, dry stone and she felt the warmth of a flickering fire on her skin as she opened her eyes to see the dark cave in which she now stood. It was large and cavernous and deep within the earth, with strange and curious paintings adorning its walls. She found it odd that as she studied the adornments that she had two different ideas about their origin and meaning; in one she remembered the words of a professor in an anthropology class she had taken on a whim and the other … In the other she felt the knowledge of the artists themselves, the ones who had made these paintings. Indeed, Buffy tilted her head to the side as she realized that she now knew more than when she had started. It was as if the mysteries and their penultimate meanings had been imprinted on her soul, as if she was the beginning and the end of the universe.

And in a way she was, she realized.

A voice shivered through her, reminding Buffy of the reasons she had been brought to the womb of the earth. She shook her head and stepped closer to the fire as she stretched out her arms and tossed back her head. "Come," she whispered. "Come to me now."

No sound was heard but she knew when the air shifted that they had arrived, the men to whom she had called. Young and old, short and tall, each came as summoned and the air thickened as she gazed across the fire and allowed her eyes and mind to trace the features of those assembled. Names and titles sprang to mind as well as emotions and she sadly acknowledged the truth in front of her, truths she had known for years but been unable to face for fear of being hurt or hurting others.

The wraiths floated in the cavernous room, their filmy transparent forms illuminated by the firelight … not ghosts or manifestations created by her brain for this moment but souls, living souls who had heard her summons and journeyed to this place in curiosity or obligation or love or through the sheer force of her will. A face swam before her eyes and she felt equal amounts of anger and sadness -- anger that he not only abandoned her mother, but that he constantly abandoned her and Dawn for his own selfish insecurities. Yet sadness remained, a sadness borne of a love once shared and the certain knowledge that 'what might have been' would have been beautiful. Sire, she finally acknowledged as she released his spirit back to the mortal world, for he had never truly been a father to her or anyone else.

The next face to fill her view had kind green eyes and her heart sang with love as it named and placed her true father, the one who had cared and loved her as her sire never would. Giles' spirit danced along the edges of the fire as though trying to help her face even this and she sighed, cupping his essence to her heart before releasing him to return to his dreams. In this she neither needed nor wanted any assistance for she finally understood the depths of the mystery, but she loved him dearly for wanting to ease her burden.

An insubstantial chuckle sang through the air and Buffy smiled once more as Xander's face floated closer. Through all the turmoil and chaos that was her life he had stood fast, her White Knight … her companion and friend … her brother. Yes, brother. She carefully searched through his spirit looking for traces of a love once considered much different than the one he professed today and discovered naught more than fond memories, and beyond that a blinding love for the woman to whom he hoped to pledge his heart and life. Buffy hugged his soul to her own once more and then watched with happiness as he drifted off to his rejoin his beloved.

Another wraith danced along the fire's edge demanding her attention and she stared for a long moment until Wesley's face became clear. Ah, yes, her other Watcher, the one whom she had ignored and belittled because she had thought him a pointless waste of time that was trying come between her and her true father. Buffy closed her eyes as she slipped into his soul and marveled at the man he had become since then, one who was more self-assured but still seeking his ultimate place and purpose in life. In sadness she pulled away as she contemplated this near stranger, but a burst of affection shattered her melancholy as she remembered that his current place was at Angel's side. He was still Watcher despite whatever anyone thought, only now his ward was a much maligned and scarred Warrior who needed his influence. Still a Watcher, she mused as she trailed her fingers through his essence, just as her true father remained a Watcher. Uncle, she whispered as she pressed a farewell kiss to his insubstantial cheek, for he was the true brother to her true father.

A group of wraiths pushed closer to the Slayer and she watched them curiously for a moment, recognizing that a tiny part of Buffy was surprised at their presence. These were those along the fringes of her existence, those who had touched her briefly but had left lasting impressions as she sailed through life. She traced a shock of dark hair and smiled at the soul of her old friend Pike, memories fond and terrible coming to the fore as she considered his presence. In doing so she turned to the others and felt sorrow and guilt, for here were those who had tried and failed -- the souls of Owen, Scott and Parker. Here were those who in the end were nothing but pawns, she thought sadly. They had had little impact on her other than to cause her guilt so she waved them away, trusting that they would find their own ways home.

As the last of the wraiths crept closer she thought about the ones who had come before and was amused at how similar they were to the pieces of a chess set. While she could not position her sire, the others had their place on the board of her life: Giles as her Bishop, Wesley and Xander as her Knights and the most recently departed as Pawns. It was in this frame of mind that she greeted the four remaining souls, four men who had touched her life and fought beside her and even loved her in their own unique ways. Worthy Knights all, but only one could be King to her Queen. Her beloved Angel, who even now sought to walk through the fire to reach her, he whose soul tugged at her own, stood before her in all his glory. Beside him her other lover, Riley, the one who had abandoned her when the world became too much … yet it was he who had tried and loved despite her inability to give all. Then there were the others, the two to whom she had not shared her body but rather her life. Spike had no soul to send so his wraith was made up of all the conflicting bundles of emotions that simmered beneath his arrogant surface, that mixture of all-too-human feeling and demonic possessiveness fueling his spirit. And then there was Oz, once her best friend's mate, the werewolf who had hunted with the Slayer and protected the pack when she could not. That he, too, had left them was of no consequence; young wolves occasionally wished to prove their prowess by hunting alone and she understood the need of the man to reconcile with the beast.

These then were the hunters; she studied them all closely, assessing their desire to join the Great Hunt. All were willing, albeit some more than others. A smile formed on her lips as she extended her essence towards theirs, mingling a tiny bit of her soul with those of her hunters as an illustration of what she was. Each moved as if to merge with her but were unable to cross the flickering fire and were burned, scorched by the tantalizing preview of what awaited the successful hunter. "To join with me you must hunt," she whispered. "Hunt in the forests for he who is king of all stags, for he who slays the beast will be King Stag and join me in rekindling the flames."

Buffy watched as the wraiths disappeared one by one, each seeking the forests of the stags and the kill that would return the hunter to her arms. Once each was gone she again gazed upon the paintings in the cave before turning her attention to the fire, and from nowhere came the sand that she poured upon the flames. Smoke curled in dark after the flames were extinguished and she peered into the near total dark in search of her path, the knowledge of which came suddenly to her mind as if she had merely misplaced a well-known fact. Tendrils of pale light that was ever brightening guided her footsteps along the cool stone, but soon she felt dust and dirt beneath her feet and the crisp scent of pure air filled her nose as the tributaries of light coalesced into a shadowy ball.

When she stepped through the entrance to the cave Buffy found herself in a large grassy clearing at the foot of a mountain. The light from a full moon illuminated the circle of stones that she found herself approaching and the tall megaliths seemed to dance in the darkness to a tune far older than anything she could imagine … but then, she again realized she had no need to imagine anything. In some inexplicable way she knew everything about this place -- its position, its power, its creators and its purpose. She knew why she was here and why it was here and why their purposes were one and the same.

Voices shivered over her skin as she passed between two of the megaliths and approached the center of the circle. Their voices were old and wise but cautious, untrusting of those who entered and answering only to those whom they deemed acceptable. 'Who are you to enter this place?' they whispered in the breezes that blew between the stones.

Buffy shuddered as she heard the voices -- if they could be considered so -- question her presence. They sounded like shards of broken glass shattering further as they bounced on a marble surface, hard and sharp and merciless. The Slayer was for an instant unable to respond but in the next, as with everything else in this place, she knew that her surety and purpose would not anger these spirits, which were hers to command.

"I am the beauty of the green earth and the white moon among the stars and the mysteries of the waters," Buffy called out to the voices. "I call upon your soul to arise and come unto me. For I am the soul of nature that gives life to the universe. From Me all things proceed and unto Me they must return. Let my worship be in the heart that rejoices, for behold -- all acts of love and pleasure are My rituals. Let there beauty and strength, power and compassion, honor and humility, mirth and reverence within you. And you who seek to know Me, know that your yearning and seeking will avail you not, unless you know the Mystery: for if that which you seek you find not within yourself, you will never find it without. For behold, I have been with you from the beginning, and I am that which is attained at the end of desire."

As Buffy finished her speech she felt rather than heard the spirits cease their shrieking questions and felt instead the weight of their knowledge press upon her soul. They whispered to her of the stags in the forest and of the brave warriors who were hunting them in hopes of finding the king of the beasts and she hummed tunelessly, her mind stretching out to touch those fearless hunters. Each brush of her soul against their spirits emboldened the hunter in question to new heights of bravery or simply more determination, and she reveled in the feelings that this aroused in her. For so long Buffy had felt abandoned and unloved … now they were hunting to join her because they wanted to be with her, to love her. This warmed her from the inside out although she knew without being told that this was, if not a dream or other similar construct, still not a part of any earthly reality. Here they were in time out of time, a place outside the mortal realms, and once they left this sacred ground they would be able to recall only fragments of what they had experienced.

She was so absorbed in listening to the voices whisper in the stones and touching the hunters that their sudden disappearance from her reach startled the Slayer. Her mind stretched out a split second later and could feel but one soul, whose she did not know, and in that moment she quickly realized what had happened. The voices confirmed this merely seconds later and Buffy's entire being was oddly both calm and anxious. Her worry over who would present himself as King Stag was borne of her mortal feelings about love and propriety and thus had no place here, yet they lingered. They were as much a part of her as the part that knew what was to come, so she cast out her feelings and accepted the amalgam of pieces that in this place were made into a new whole.

The voices suddenly became a flurry of sound and the tension in the air rose once more and as she turned in a circle to see what caused the commotion her eyes beheld a wraith approaching the stones from the South. Even now she was not sure who would join her here in this place, only that he would be worthy of not only her but of her Lady as well. The thought jostled her away from the contemplation of the successful hunter and into an internal perusal; as the embodiment of the Goddess, where did she end and begin? What separated her from the Lady and the Slayer?

An answering warmth stole over her and the scents of honey and daffodils filled her nose. She sighed in remembrance; again, it was as if she had simply misplaced her knowledge, for she quickly remembered that there was no difference at all. Here all things were made whole and so she was all and everything, beginning and end. She was whole and there was no division of parts, there had never been a difference -- she had simply never understood the union before now.

This slight internal issue once more resolved, she turned her attention the voices and to the wraith that now stood just outside the circle. He stood tall in the face of the shrieking sounds that came from the bansidhe that haunted the stones and walked forward, his form taking shape as he passed through the stones. Buffy's breath caught as she watched him take form from the spirit he had been and for the first time noticed her own form. She was still painted with runes, but now her head and shoulders were somehow draped in gold and bronze and her hair was wound around her head in thousands of tiny braids. It should have felt as heavy as the antlers on her approaching companion yet neither felt their weight.

He stopped nearly six feet away from her but she could not discern his features for the antlers and the skin of the stag -- his trophies and the symbols of his station -- obscured her view. It was only as he spoke that she suddenly knew who her consort was and her heart beat wildly in her chest as she awaited the decision of the guardians of the stones.

"I am a stag of the seven tines," he decreed. "I am a wide flood on a plain … I am a wind on the deep waters … I am a shining tear of the sun … I am a hawk on a cliff … I am fair among flowers … I am a god who sets the head afire with smoke."

Buffy's heart pounded wildly in anticipation and longing as the stag skin slid down Angel's shoulders to reveal his broad chiseled chest. He looked straight at her when he spoke again, his voice more easily heard as the wailing questions of the bansidhe dwindled in volume. "I am not a phantom and I am not a spectre. I have come after death to be honored by you, and I am of the race of Adam. My name is Lug, son of Ethniu, son of Smretha, son of Tigernmar, son of Faelu, son of Etheor, son of Irial, son of Erimon, son of Mil of Spain. Here, now, by the antlers that I claim … I am King Stag."

The silence of the voices was deafening and the tension that had swirled in the air suddenly collapsed upon itself leaving the two in a vacuum. Buffy marveled at the subtle changes in him now that she could once more feel the pull of his soul; his carriage was as erect as it had been when he was Angelus but with none of the arrogance and hate that had been its accompaniment. His eyes were still that gentle loving brown, but the ever-present wildness seemed deepened now that he embodied the God. Which is why the pull she felt was even stronger, she realized. It was no longer the pull of two souls or needs of Slayer and Vampire but the long anticipated and ancient union of the Goddess and her God.

Buffy stretched out her arms and Angel stepped forward once more, removing the helmet of antlers and sinking to his knees before her. Heat raced through her as he pressed his mouth to her sex and laved the tender flesh with his tongue, passion curling through her and lodging not in her loins but in her soul. His eyes lifted to meet hers and his voice rasped, "Assist me to erect the ancient altar, at which in days past all worshipped … the great altar of all things, for in old time Woman was the altar … "

Ardor filled her soul as he began to speak the words to commence the Great Rite but she was above needing such trivialities. He was her Consort, the Chosen, the successful hunter who had become the King Stag for this night, and they needed no such words between them for they were the reasons the words existed between those on the mortal plain. "The altar is erect," she whispered. "Worship me."

Angel nodded and reached out to steady her as she sank to her knees, their faces only inches apart when she closed the gap by sliding her lips over his in a kiss to seal the mutual understanding between them. The shudders that tore through his soul intensified as she lay back in the fragrant grass with her knees bent and spread wide, allowing him to glimpse that she was indeed completely covered with runes and symbols. The primal power called to him as he curled his knees beneath his body and stretched out to fondle the delicate folds of her sex, his mouth seeking out that which would give her pleasure.

"Altar of mysteries manifold," Angel whispered as he caressed soft lips dewed with a woman's most intimate honey, unable to stop the words from leaving his mouth although he knew they were not needed. "The sacred Circle's center point -- thus do I sign thee as of old, with kisses of my lips anoint. Open for me the secret way, the pathway of intelligence, beyond the gates of night and day, beyond the bounds of time and sense. Behold the mystery aright … "

She tossed her head and moaned as he nuzzled his way among her most sensitive mound, the heat in her loins feeding the unending and ever growing power that was forming within her soul. Her body was wracked with spasms as his lips closed over the seat of her fleshly desire and she shuddered in ecstasy, falling a thousand times through a pleasure so large and fulfilling that for a moment she wondered if this would be enough. The power was rapidly expanding, pulsating and pressing against its cage but unable to break through. Their desire was so perfectly matched, so fused, one to the other that she felt herself soar on wings of molten heat and gaze upon a thousand of her pleasures as he once more worried her tender pearl until she rode the crest of the wave of passion until it crashed upon the shore.

Buffy gasped as she opened her eyes to the starry sky. Each climax fed the throbbing power that was centered in their souls but she knew that more was needed, that only the ultimate union of body and soul would create the wondrous marriage of their separated selves. With the beat of their power echoing in her ears she reached for him again, drawing him up her body until their lips met in a smoldering kiss that scorched her very soul and ricocheted through their link into his. The result was a deepening kiss, one that opened the doors to the primal energy burning deep within his core and she arched beneath him to urge him on to the ultimate union.

"Here where the Lance and Grail unite, and feet and knees and breast and lip," he murmured as the craving simply became too much.

He groaned into her mouth as he gave in, sinking into her moist heat with an eagerness that overshadowed any previous pleasures and any yet to come. Buffy let out a guttural cry when was again sheathed within her, unable to remember when she had last felt this whole. Then he moved and pleasure of their union altered to become a true joining, a merger of souls and power as they slipped into one another and delighted at the love and trust and power that they discovered. Hot primal need flared as they approached the peak of their desire, and as they tumbled together from the heights of sheer ecstasy in a blazing ball of fire they were suddenly one being finally made whole. As the import of this marriage took root they felt the power trying to erupt from deep within themselves and so they pushed it outwards, away from their souls.

The power flew out towards the circle's edge but was caught by the ancient megaliths and transformed as it was flung inward once more. Streaks of fire stretched out from each of the tall stones and traveled toward the center, slamming together and mingling around the two lovers finally made whole. Buffy screamed as the flames consumed them, as they fed the fire with their passion and desire and tumbled once more into a sea of rapture while flames climbed higher and higher, urging the mated pair onwards and upwards …

***

When Buffy opened her eyes she was surprised to find herself in the smoky darkness of the mansion surrounded by her sister and her friends and not in the stone circle with Angel. As Tara and Willow helped her up into a sitting position she still felt as if the whole experience had been real although she knew she had -- physically, at least -- never left the room. The entire situation was surreal.

"Buffy?" Dawn asked tentatively. "Are you … okay?"

The Slayer turned to answer her sister and simply stared for a moment, unable to understand why the girl wasn't responding when she realized that she had to use her voice to do so. She shook her head slightly and opened her mouth and tried to clear her throat but found it so parched that she hacked into her hand until Tara gave her a cup of juice. Several sips later she felt immeasurably better; not only could she clear her throat but the juice also seemed to restore her energy level. Oh yes, she had still felt euphoric and energized upon waking, but she knew once she sat up that she was so weak that she would be unable to stand. Now, however, she was beginning to feel much more like herself; she turned to her sister and gave her a slight smile. "I'm okay … just a bit shaky still, I guess."

Anya snorted. "I'm not surprised, considering that you -- "

Willow shot Anya a dark look and spoke through clenched teeth. "Anya … "

"What? You don't think she should -- "

"No, I don't."

"I don't know, Willow, I think maybe she should … " Tara began.

"Know what?" Buffy straightened and looked at three women who suddenly seemed to be looking anywhere but at her. "What happened that has you so wigged?"

There was silence in the dark room until Dawn finally broke it in a small voice. "You were … Buffy, you were, well, floating in the air! And then you started to move around like you were in pain or something … "

"You orgasmed in midair," Anya stated bluntly. "Repeatedly."

Buffy was oddly surprised. "Really? Huh … I thought … "

When the Slayer turned towards her Tara bit her lip and tried to think of how to phrase what she needed to say, but she finally gave in a used as few words as possible. "You shouldn't … I mean th-that shouldn't have happened. Buffy, I've seen this done before, more than once, a-and no one ever levitated much less … I just don't know why."

Willow shook her head when Buffy turned questioning eyes to her. "Don't ask me either, Buffy. I only saw this done for the first time last year and there was no floating. Big lack of floating and, well, orgasming too."

"It was way weird," Dawn told her. "But kinda cool in a really gross way."

Tara still looked deeply disturbed. "Maybe we should check the spell again, Will … maybe we missed something."

"Maybe it was the Hellmouth," Dawn offered.

"No," Anya shook her head before looking down to study her nails. "It wasn't the Hellmouth and it wasn't the spell … well, it was, but not really -- "

"You know?" Willow sounded affronted. "And you didn't tell us?"

Anya shrugged. "You were too busy trying to get us to agree not to say anything to hear me."

Buffy raised a hand before the bickering could begin and looked at Anya with curiosity in her eyes. They might not always get along but Anya had been right in the past and she had been around a lot longer than anyone else in the room, so Buffy thought it was important to hear her out. Especially considering the state of Sunnydale these days. "Anya … what happened, no … how do you know?"

Anya locked eyes with the Slayer. "How much do you remember?"

Buffy opened her mouth to say that she remembered everything but the words would not come. Scant seconds passed as she grappled with her mind, desperately reaching for the memories of that luscious experience of sheer knowing, of the glorious union with Angel in the circle of … What was it a circle of? Was there a circle? What had happened? She licked her lips and finally shook her head. "I ... I don't really remember much of anything," she whispered. "I feel like I should because something happened there with Angel, but it just keeps slipping away, like … " she trailed off, unable to finish.

Tara and Willow looked alarmed. "You should remember everything," Tara frowned.

But Anya simply nodded, as if Buffy's words had confirmed her suspicion. "That's typical."

"Typical of what?" Dawn asked.

"A true Bealtaine experience," she told them. "Tara's right, most of the time people remember everything that happens because it's pretty much just astral projection and mild hallucination."

"So, why am I the exception?" Buffy questioned.

Anya shrugged. "Sometimes, though, it really happens. People actually tune into a higher frequency and actually live the Great Rite along with the gods. I've seen it a time or two before."

"So, you're saying that there was … " Willow trailed off.

"Divine intervention?" Anya supplied.

"Yeah, that."

The former demon simply nodded.

"B-but why?" Dawn sputtered.

"Who knows their reasons?" Anya asked in reply.

"Buffy's the Slayer," Tara said softly, her eyes widening as realization dawned. "A-and you said you were with Angel, right?"

Buffy nodded, blushing although she had no clear memory.

"And he's a Warrior, too, right? *Their* Warrior?"

She nodded again.

"You think because they're always fighting … " Willow started.

"That the Powers gave them a break?" Tara finished. "It does make sense."

Anya appeared to contemplate this for a moment and then she, too, nodded. "Yes, that makes sense."

Buffy, however, was growing frustrated. "Okay, say it happened because of what you're saying … Still, why don't I remember? Will he remember?"

Everyone turned to look at Anya, who hesitated for a moment and then shook her head. "He won't remember either."

"Why? Why don't we remember?"

Anya sighed. "You were part of the Goddess, Buffy, and Angel was obviously part of the God, and I would have paid good money to see him -- "

Buffy scowled.

"Anyway," Anya continued. "For that time you experienced perfect euphoria and you knew *everything* about the world and each other. You literally merged with the Goddess; you became her and she became you. No human soul -- no matter if she's a Slayer and he's a vampire -- can handle that once they're fully returned to the mortal plain. It would be too much, you'd never be able to focus because you'd be too busy trying to replicate the experience even though you'd never be able to."

"Hence the forgetfulness," Willow mused.

Buffy sighed. "Welcome to the World of Not Remembering."

"L-look at it this way, Buffy," Tara soothed. "You know you had an incredible experience with Angel, something no one else can ever hope to touch. Isn't that enough?"

"I suppose," she whispered. "I guess it has to be, huh?"

"Yeah," Willow said as she squeezed Buffy's hand.

"Is that why Buffy, uh, you know … " Dawn trailed off meaningfully.

"Yes," Anya replied. "She was still tethered to her body and so whatever her soul felt was transferred to her body as well … and it must have been amazing. Even the others that I've seen didn't orgasm as many times as Buffy did."

"Uh … thanks. I think."

Anya shrugged. "Just so you know."

They lapsed into silence for a moment and then opened the circle. Willow helped Buffy to her feet, and the Slayer quickly ascertained that the rush of energy she'd felt upon awakening had returned. The result was a feeling of near invincibility, as if she could conquer any task or go for hours without stopping to rest or refuel her body. In fact, she was so anxious to get going that she was surprised when Dawn caught her arm and offered her the clothes she'd removed earlier. She frowned at the garments for a moment and then looked over at Tara.

The blonde witch shrugged. "I don't mind, so if no one else cares … "

"Nudity is natural," Anya stated.

"But we're going outside!" Dawn exclaimed. "You know, where people can *see* you?"

Buffy was about to tell her sister that she didn't really care about being seen in the nude tonight, but was cut off by Willow's words. "Nope, not to worry, Dawnie."

"Huh?"

"Willow?" Tara queried curiously.

"I put a teeny tiny glamour on after we warded the place," she grinned. "Anyone who walks by will just see the old mansion, and they won't hear anything either."

Anya's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Darn tootin'."

At this, Anya stripped down and flounced out the door with Buffy to the sound of a stuttering Dawn, who followed them incredulously. Willow grinned even wider as she pulled her shirt over her head and glanced at her lover, whose face had been suddenly transformed into an unreadable mask. "What's wrong, baby?" she asked as she sashayed towards the blonde. "Why do you look so … "

Tara mind was screaming at her to tell Willow what she thought about the other's continual use of deeper and more questionable magick, but her heart and her soul all but melted as the redhead finished undressing and pressed their lips together. Such sweet passion swept through her then that she simply capitulated and opened her mouth, her hands somehow finding their way to her lover's hips and drawing Willow closer. Fingers twined in her hair and then caressed her bare back as Willow pulled the intrusive garment away, pressing their flesh together as she trailed kisses down her beloved's throat. A mock cry of outrage caused Willow to pull away and smile lazily as she backed towards the door. "You're overdressed for the occasion," she whispered huskily.

Her mind was still nagging about the issue but Tara brushed it aside for the moment. Later, she promised as she shed her clothes and prepared to join the others outside at the Maypole. Later she would raise the issue of magick with Willow and prayed that the other witch would listen. But for now …

"C'mon," she nudged the lounging redhead. "We've got a Need-Fire to rekindle."

END