TITLE: The Beauty of Morning Light (7/?)

AUTHOR: Wicked Raygun

E-MAIL: wicked_raygun@yahoo.com

SUMMARY: With his grief still eating away at him, Xander must find it in his heart to help someone.

RATING: PG-13

SPOILERS: Up to season five's The Gift.

DISCLAIMOR: I refuse to believe this is necessary. Does anyone here actually believe I own this stuff in any way? Well… To the folks who do own a piece of the Buffster and/or her friends and enemies, I mean you no harm. I'm simply borrowing your toys to put on a little puppet show. I promise to bring them all back in near-mint condition. Even Spike.

FEEDBACK: Everyone needs a little love. It makes the world go round and writers post faster.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Man, it's been a long time, hasn't it? Well, I've updated finally. It's a little short, but then again chapters to this always have been.

I would like to take this moment to thank Lori Bush, and Mims for their help in beta-ing this chapter. Their work and opinions have helped me a great deal. And to Lori, in particular, I would like to say the following: I appreciate you. You're help has allowed me to grow as a writer, and as a person. Your stories, your encouragement, your willingness to share moments of your life with me have been wonderful gifts. As of June 11th, I will have been posting stories for a year, and I can say, without a single doubt, that without you this year just wouldn't have been half as interesting.

For those in the audience who would like to know more about this woman, her stories can be found here:

http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=17172

and here:

http://tedjoxertimandmore.homestead.com/

Also, for those who are interested in some of my other work, it can be found here:

http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=79383

Now, onto the show.



************************************
Something Welcome, Something Needed
************************************



Greg's eyes opened to find that the world of darkness, misery and pain that he just left was much preferable to the real one he was entering again. At least in the darkness he could forget that leer, that mocking, evil, blood chilling, smile that graced the face of his menace. The one who placed him in his shackles. The one who played with him using her "toys."


Estella was a sight to behold. An alluring golden mane poured from her head, looking vibrant and alive- too alive, in fact, to be part of something that was so dead and evil. Her eyes were, fittingly, gray. Neither black nor white, they had, perhaps, at one time been a sea blue, but without that spark of life that came from a soul, their color had retreated into something more ambiguous and much less poetic and traditionally beautiful. Her frame appeared slender and fragile, another misconception. And one beings never made for long, once they crossed her.


She reaped vengeance like a gardener. She cultivated it, with cruelty, cunning and a violent streak. And those were what she did before she lost her soul. If before she was a monster, now she was a nightmare made flesh.


It was no surprise, really, that she especially loved torture. She dedicated herself as any other artisan would dedicate their self to a craft. She studied any and all works on the subject, both human and otherwise. Her personal library was brimming with works she had read over and over again, their pages worn like a favorite book of a young child. But she did not only put into practice the many things she had learned. No, she also innovated.


She remembered reading in an old medical journal the process of bone setting in pre-modern times. It involved the resetting of a bone after it had been broken. Then a standard splint would be applied in hopes that the appendage would heal properly. Before the advent of modern anesthetics, it was common place for the patient to be given massive amounts of alcohol in an attempt to alleviate their suffering. But, of course, in order for this knowledge to be applicable to her craft, an ideal such as painlessness would have to be removed. And she found a way.


Healing was her personal favorite part of torture now. Using a very old healing spell she had come across, she could reset any broken bones that occurred during her fun, something that happened to all of her practice dummies, and heal them… painfully. Newer magic spells used a form of enchanted anesthesia that would deaden the pain receptors in the nerve cells during the healing process. But without that, the resetting of a bone through magic caused excruciating pain. Magic was unforgiving in the way it brought bone and sinew back together.


It was perfect. She would beat and maim her new toy until he or she was on the brink of death, and then she would repair them using her "healing" spells, causing even more agony. It was a beautifully endless cycle that continued until either she got bored or Master Rosario asked her to stop. Her record was one hundred and two days. And one day, she vowed to herself, she would exceed that.


Estella always did love a challenge.


She entered the last herb she needed into her mixing bowl. With a mash she began to grind them together, and as she did this she chanted. The incantations began to release the magical properties of her mixture. A red smoke emanated from her bowl, and she set it down on the floor. Delving into some of her old magical energy she forced the smoke to funnel. It rose in that fashion until it moved past her awaiting hands, which were facing each other palm-to-palm. Small purple bolts of energy flew from her palms and hit the red smoke, which now began to change into a light blue. The blue smoke entered into her hands, becoming one with them.


Greg watched as Estella brought her hands closer and closer to his beaten and battered form. They glowed an eerie blue, and he knew that those hands were meant for him… and that they were going to bring suffering. Instinctively, he thrashed about, attempting to get away from his torturer. This caused a chuckle to escape from her lips. Estella thought he looked so pathetic trying to get away from her, while he was shackled to her play table.


"Now, now, Greg, my dear. You were very naughty and deserved to be punished. Do you understand that?" the tone of her voice was so sweet, she almost sounded innocent.


But Greg now knew better than to think that. He also knew better than to not answer her in the way she wanted to be answered. When Estella was like this, the best thing to do was to play along with her madness. So he nodded, despite the shooting pains coming from his neck.


"Good, little doggy. Now, don't worry… I'm going to make it feel all better now."


If it weren't for the sound dampening spell Estella had placed around her room, the sounds of wet pops and snaps intermingled with Greg's screaming would have been heard all over the hotel.



~~~~~~***~~~~~~



"We're here."


The words had come softly, almost reverently. Wherever they were now, it was apparently a place of some importance to the man that saved her life. Susanna looked up from staring intently at her baby to take note of where he had driven her. It was a store, and a sign had the words "Magic Box" written on it. She frowned a little. Although she didn't have any actual expectations, she certainly felt as if she should feel let down.


With a flick of the keys, Xander turned off the ignition. He turned his head to her and said, "Come on," before he exited the car. With no other choice available, she did the same, all the while feeling wary of the dark street they were on. Paying particular attention to all the shadowy areas, she followed him. He used another key to open the door and Susanna startled a little at the sound of the jingling bell.



Almost immediately, Xander began to call out, "Giles! Giles! Hey, English Guy!"


Susanna watched from the doorway as her savior began speaking loudly and searching the store. She would have said something about the yelling waking the baby, but at the moment she was far too preoccupied with other things. Namely, Greg, the man who had stolen any chance of happiness she might have had.


The nightmare had found her again… And she just felt so tired.


"I'm here, Xander," a male voice with an English accent said with a note of exasperation to it. The voice was followed by a middle aged man, entering from some back room. "And please do refrain from calling me English Guy."


"Would you have preferred Chap?"


As the two strangers began to banter, Susanna, hesitantly, began to make her way toward them.


Her eyes darted from left to right, noting the layout, design, furnishings and trinkets of the place. She began to sense something about her new surroundings.


It was an odd mix of practical and absurd. Labels and shelves dedicated to supplies to be used for magic, all ordered logically. The novelty of it all would have been amusing if it weren't for the great state of disarray that she found it in.


The place looked as if it were only tended to occasionally. Dust had settled all over the store, the lamps being particularly blaring examples of this as their bulbs illuminated the cobwebs gathered upon the shades. Books were spread everywhere, haphazardly thrown about the store, seemingly abandoned once their purpose was achieved. Chairs were left out far from the tables they were around, no one having bothered to push them in. It didn't feel chaotic to Susanna; merely abandoned. It appeared that an event had transpired here, something important, something great, and something sudden; and with the coming of that event, life had been halted, the decaying presence of the passage of time given the freedom to revel here.


It might have been a wondrous place once. Susanna couldn't be sure of that, of course, but something about it exhibited a feeling of old warmth. Like the last burning embers of a once roaring fire, or the body-heated impression left on a pillow from a departed lover. It was as recognizable as the sun to someone like her: This was the aftermath of a tragedy. Something had shined brightly here, only to be snuffed out, making the world seem all the more colder and darker in its wake.


Misery wasn't just some abstract idea; it was a very real and tangible thing. It had a weight and depth that left impressions on a person, an object or a place, such as this one. As she walked past a see-through counter with odd looking herbs, weeds, and crystals scattered on the various glass shelves and with an old fashioned looking cash register placed atop, she couldn't help but contemplate how very out of place misery seemed in a place like this. It was, for a lack of a better way to put it in her own head, tacky. The kind of place one might visit for a little Halloween mischief and fun.


It certainly wasn't what she had envisioned as a stop on a mission to save her daughter.


But was she perhaps reading too much into the actions of the stranger that saved her? Now that was not a comforting thought.


She stared at the back of the dark-haired man in front of her suspiciously. How many times had she walked into traps like these, now? She didn't even want to count. And what did she really know about this individual? His name, or what he said was his name. Surely, not enough to trust him yet.


Certainly not with the life of her daughter, her one and only real priority.



~~~~~~***~~~~~~



The three friends had been walking quietly since the end of their patrol. The only action that night had been a single vampire who mistook them for easy prey. Willow had a hard time keeping a straight face during the encounter, especially when the vampire had been staked and asked Buffy who she was.


Buffy had merely shrugged and asked, "Do you really think that matters now?" The look on his face as his body decomposed into dust was actually annoyance.


The silence afterward was broken by Tara who suggested getting some coffee. Buffy and Willow laughed and Tara joined in soon after. It was a warm moment brought about by the realization of the oddity of their lives. They had just met with and destroyed what was to most of the world a creature of legend. A deadly and dangerous being, who, to any other person in the world, would have posed a terrifying threat.


And after that, the only thing that could be said was, "I want coffee. You guys want coffee?"


Moments like that were meant to be shared, and everyone felt the absence of the one other person who would have enjoyed it as much as they had. For a moment, there had been joy, but it had been a bittersweet victory.


With their patrol for the night completed there was little else to do save report back to Giles at the Magic Box. The walk was slow, but comfortable so there was no felt need to hurry. And for the moment each was content to be alone with their own thoughts.


A wall had been broken that night for Willow, and she was now ready to forgive Xander and accept him back into her heart. What she had seen him do had scared her, deeply. It had also proven to her how little she really did know of her once best friend. But now, she was willing to accept it, to accept him.


In her heart, she knew that she probably wouldn't have done any different had it been Tara who died that night instead of Anya. And she also knew that in the dark time after she would need his love and support.


A small weight had been lifted, but the over-all dread remained. She felt that Xander would have every right to be angry with her for abandoning him. There was nothing she could do about that now. The only thing she could do was apologize, and be there for him when things got rough.


It was going to be a difficult, long, and frustrating process, to be sure, but one she was willing to go through. Her only hope was that Xander would be willing to try also.


She smiled. It was strained, but honest, and her lover made note of it.


Tara knew enough about her Willow to know she was trying to be optimistic for the future. She had missed seeing that part of her lover, and was thankful to see her strong spirit start to return. She then prayed that Xander would be forgiving and that all would end well. She didn't think it too unthinkable an idea. After all, he had tried to breach the gap between them on several occasions, although he had never pressed too hard.


Tara knew fear when she saw it, and she had seen that same emotion reflected in each of their eyes, and it broke her heart. Willow was her lover, her confidant and best friend, while Xander had become a surrogate brother, well meaning and warm, possibly a bit overprotective, but charming nonetheless. Besides, she had noticed, he acted that way about everyone he cared about. So she knew that she had a place in his heart as well, and that brought a feeling of belonging and stability that she had not felt with her actual family since the death of her mother.


She realized then that she wanted them to make up not only for Willow's peace of mind, but for herself, as well. She missed Xander.


Buffy, for her part, just wanted the chance to move on and be happy with her family; and Xander along with the rest of her friends were as much a part of that as Dawn. She had tried to be strong for everyone lately. It was, she felt, her burden and duty as a friend. But she still couldn't help but hope for tomorrow to be easier then today, for the guilt of not saving her mother and then Anya to ease away, for her family to be united again, and for Xander to stop waking up in the middle of the night screaming.


Buffy felt at that moment, more than any other time in her life, that despite all the loss, failure and tragedy, she had earned a right to live. And her heart wanted to share that with the ones she loved.


She would miss Riley. She would miss Anya. And she would miss her mother. But it was time to find a life with the people who were still here with her.


They may have lived dangerous and remarkable lives, but it was the simpler things they wanted; and, despite all the recent tragedy, these three women felt something welcome and needed.


Hope.



~~~~~~***~~~~~~



Angus rapped on the door and waited. A moment later, the hotel door opened, revealing the ravishing beauty that was Estella. Ravishing and, if the dilation in her pupils were any indication, ready to ravish something herself, and Angus couldn't help but grin as he mentally pictured her target for that.


Estella knew why Angus was grinning, and lustily licked her lips to tease him. "Now, my dear, sweet Angus, you should know better than to disturb me when I'm having fun," she said sweetly as her hand played with the door frame sensually, her finger nails audibly scraping against the wood.


She always got like this after her games.


His eyes traveled down and back up her body slowly and deliberately in a leer. He then met her eyes again. "Well, you know me, always one to watch… a professional at work." His grin widened as he closed the distance between them a little more, but it then faltered a little as he saw Greg chained to the wall, making a sound that was something between a whimper and a sob. "We should get rid of Cold Cut, over there. He'll blow my concentration," he said evenly.


Estella shrugged, as she spoke in the same sexy pitch, "And we can't have that, can we? After all, blowing would be my job."


Greg was then unceremoniously unlocked from his chains and thrown into the common room of their suite. He would have been quite content to stay where he had landed, but looked up anyway when two boots came into his view. His eyes traveled the length of Chan's body to see him smirking and shaking his head amusedly.


After a while, Chan spoke. "Next time, Greg, listen to your masters, and Rosario, in particular. We have each lived longer then any of your grand relatives."


Greg shook his head from the floor obediently, far too tired for pride or dignity.


"Good. There's some blood in the mini fridge. Drink up, then rest. We're going to be very busy tomorrow evening." Chan then swept away, not bothering to see whether or not Greg would or could respond.


Chan smiled as he made his way back to Rosario. When he found him on the terrace he was reading his Bible.


"That book again, my master?" he asked light-heartedly.


Rosario looked up at his child and smiled. "It's a very interesting read. Lots of good advice. Besides, I am a man of God." He turned his attention back to his reading, then asked, "Is Angus setting up our supplies for tomorrow's activities?"


"No, my Master."


Rosario looked up again, his eyebrow raised in a questioning gesture.


"It seems that Angus and Estella are somewhat indisposed for the moment. You know how she gets."


"Yes, I do," he answered truthfully before shaking his head and letting out a short chuckle. "Kids."



~~~~~~***~~~~~~



"Xander, who," Giles gestured toward Susanna, "is this?"


"That would be Susanna, and I think she needs our help."


Xander watched as Giles' eyes widened and then his hands went up in a gesture of surrender. "I wouldn't be so sure about that," Giles said deadpan.


Realizing that his life had just become a lot more complicated, Xander slowly turned around to find a gun being pointed at them.



******To*Be*Continued******



Well, hello, everyone. Just wanted to say that I hope you enjoyed this short little thing. I'll get to work on the next chapter a whole lot sooner then last time. School, as well as my interest in writing other fics, have sidelined me heavily since I last posted this. I had considered abandoning it completely, but the support of this story and general outcry over my lack of posting, (there really does seem to be a lot of you out there) have shamed me into action. And now, with the practice I've gained in writing other projects, I truly think that I now have the skills needed to write this story the way I had always envisioned it coming out.


Although, I am somewhat sad to say that I've decided to abandon Xander's POV's, or Xandervision as I liked to call it.


Anyways, enjoy this and know that a new chapter to WDIFIYL is not too far behind.


Oh… You want a preview of the next chapter? Well, it's good to want things. ;)


Ray


PS- One last little nugget of cool. As of Tuesday, June 11th 2002, I will have been posting fanfic for exactly one year. Yay for me.



--Excuse me? Who, at a crucial moment, distracted the lead demon by allowing her to pummel him about the head?--

Nicholas Brendan as Xander in "Buffy The Vampire Slayer"


--I understand a man's inhumanity to man. Adults are violent amorphous blobs that careen around the planet. Occasionally they brush up against another individual and hey, their life must end.--

Dennis Miller on "Dennis Miller Live"