Part 32: The Harsh Light of Good
#
"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall want for nothing."
The priest's voice droned on, but Buffy was not paying any attention to it. Some detached part of her tried to figure out how often she had heard this particular requiem before. A dozen times? A hundred times? She had been to a lot of funerals. Mostly because she wanted to check out whether or not the deceased might rise as a vampire, but there had been a fair share of more personal ones, too.
Jesse. Ford. Jenny. Kendra. Larry. So many others.
And now Faith. In some way this struck her as even more wrong than anything else. Faith was the Slayer, chosen after Kendra died. It was not right that Buffy should still be alive after the two who had been chosen after her died. It was not right that the bond between her and Angel had come with the price tag of Faith's life. Buffy knew, just knew, that if Faith had woken up they would have managed to work things out somehow. Her sister Slayer would have had a chance to make it better, to make up for the things she had done.
Only now she never would. She was dead because the Slayer and the Huntsman needed to be together, undivided and whole. Buffy balled her fists and a tear ran down her cheek. Why did this have to happen? Why was this world fucking with her at every possible turn?
Angel's arm was around her shoulder and pulled her tighter against him as he felt her shake with suppressed sobs. His eyes were fixed on Faith's coffin, now slowly being lowered into the ground. Faith had tried to kill them all, had allied herself with evil, yet Angel could not find any solace in that thought. No one deserved to die like that, the life ripped out of her in her sleep by an indifferent metaphysical force. A force that had chosen her, not the other way around. Faith had never had a choice in that matter.
The Oracles had a lot to answer for. They should have warned him that something like this would happen if he took this shiny, destined, all- important chance they had so graciously offered him.
Only a few days had passed since that terrible night and things had remained quiet so far. Giles was in constant contact with Burke and his people, but had learned nothing beyond the fact that they were tending to their wounded and waiting for reinforcements. Team 666 was nowhere to be seen, but none of them believed they had left town. Giles, along with Willow and Xander, was also still in full research-mode, trying to find as many details about the Slayer, the Huntsman, and the bond between them as he could.
As for Buffy and Angel, they were more than busy enough trying to figure things out between them. Two people had died to bring them to this point, two people who had been dragged into this without their consent, chosen by forces that placed little value on individual lives.
Neither of them could help wondering whether it was all worth it.
They had spent the last days in almost constant contact, mostly because they were afraid what might happen if they were separated. If the lore they had could be trusted, the nature of their bond would not react well to any sort of distance between them. Neither of them wanted to risk losing control, not when they both felt stronger and more powerful than they had ever before.
Buffy looked up at her friends. Xander and Anya had come to the funeral, as well as Giles, Joyce, and Willow. The redhead had brought another girl along, a shy blonde none of them had ever met before, introduced to them as Tara. At any other time Buffy might have been wondering why Willow had not introduced them before, as the two were obviously quite familiar with each other, but she had other things on her mind right now.
The funeral seemed to go on forever and Buffy was constantly torn between simply running away and surrendering to the tears. Neither seemed like a particularly good idea, so she just did nothing. Angel's arm around her shoulders steadied her, the hum of his presence so close somehow managing to drown out the world around them, and they stood motionless until the coffin had disappeared from view and the priest closed his book.
Slowly the small crowd began to disperse. Faith had not had many friends here in Sunnydale. Buffy could see a few young men she did not know, a moment later scolding herself for automatically assuming where Faith would have known them from. The big surprise had been Wesley, whom no one had thought of since he had disappeared after graduation. Apparently the former watcher had encountered Cordelia in Los Angeles and she had let him know what had happened. Cordy herself was not here. Apparently she had landed a role in a soap opera since Angel had for all intents and purposes shut down Angel Investigations and was quite content with staying away from Sunnydale.
Someone was approaching them and Buffy looked up to see Riley and Burke, both of them dressed in black suits. She had not expected either of them to turn up here and, quite frankly, was not looking forward to speaking to them. Not after what had happened at the warehouse. What they had seen her do.
"My condolences, Ms. Summers," Burke said. He probably had no idea who Faith had been, Buffy realized, nor how she had come to be killed. Well, none of them saw the necessity of telling him about it. After learning the details of Project Inferno their trust of Burke and especially his superiors was greatly diminished.
They would probably have to tell them something, though, because Riley did a neck-wrenching double-take as he saw Angel standing beside Buffy, whole and healthy. The commando himself was still visibly bruised from the second beating he had taken at King's hands.
"Angel," Riley said, astonished. "How the hell ...?"
"Long story," he answered. "This is not the place to tell it."
He glanced at the tombstone the workers were putting up now. The Council had paid for the funeral and the tombstone, as Faith's sole living relative, her mother, had not reacted to any of the messages they had sent to her. Angel was a bit surprised that the Council had been so generous regarding a renegade Slayer, even as he wondered what kind of parent would not be there for the funeral of their child. This world was a very strange place sometimes.
Burke, indifferent toward Riley's confusion at the moment, continued to look at Buffy.
"Ms. Summers, I realize that this is a bad time, but I hope that you and Mr. Giles will soon be able to join us for ...," he trailed of, now looking at Angel as well, clearly considering how much to say in front of this stranger.
Buffy, too tired to think of things like nondisclosure agreements and secrecy, simply motioned for him to go on. "You can speak freely in front of Angel, Mr. Burke. He knows all about what goes bump in the night here on the Hellmouth." Not that she would ever tell Burke or any of his men that Angel had once been one of these bumpy things.
Burke gave Angel a very suspicious glance, but finally continued. "We have received reinforcements, Ms. Summers, and new orders. The problem of Team 666 must be dealt with as soon as possible."
Buffy looked up sharply, not liking his tone. "And what exactly do you mean by 'dealt with'?"
"I am talking about eliminating a threat to national security."
"You are talking about human beings, Burke! Human beings who were abused beyond anything I ..."
"Human beings who killed four of my men."
Buffy continued glaring at him, but was at a loss for words. What was she supposed to say to that? That two of the four casualties had been at Jackson King's hands? Well, that certainly made it all better, did it not? Four murders were an atrocity, but two were okay? It did not work that way and Buffy knew it. Team 666, no matter what they had gone through, were killers.
Then again she had the blood of two human beings on her own hands, did she not? What did that make her?
Angel, clearly seeing Buffy's distress, turned to glare at Burke. "This is not a good time."
For a moment the senior agent seemed about to protest, but then sighed and moved a hand through his graying hair. He, too, was worn and tired from everything that had happened. That was not an excuse to begin a shouting match at someone's funeral, though.
"I apologize," he said. "We need to meet soon, though. I doubt the current calm will last that much longer."
Angel and Buffy both nodded. On that, if nothing else, they could agree.
Burke turned and walked away. Riley hesitated for a moment, clearly still astonished about Angel's miraculous recovery. Buffy mouthed a silent 'later' to him. This was definitely not the time to tell Riley that Angel was now the host for the same force that had driven Jackson King over the edge and turned him into a killer. Would there ever be a good time for it? She rather doubted it. They needed a good story here. A lie. Yet more lies.
People began trickling out of the cemetery. Giles and Wesley were talking about something as they walked. Anya began tugging Xander away, probably wanting to do something that Buffy did not even want to hear about. The few strangers who had been present were already gone. Which only left Willow and her blonde friend, who were approaching them even now.
Buffy and her best friend hugged without words. Willow had never been particularly fond of Faith, neither before nor after her turn to the dark side, but she was too good a person to wish death to anyone. Besides, she knew exactly how Faith had come to die and how much Buffy would hurt over it.
"You holding up?" she asked softly as they separated.
Buffy nodded. "More or less. Who is your friend, Wills?"
Willow half-turned and motioned for the blonde to come closer.
"Buffy, Angel, this is Tara. Tara McClay. We met in that Wicca group I went to a few times on campus. She is a real witch, though, not just one of those phonies. She helped me with my little magical break-in into the pentagon computers. We also cooked up a healing spell for Angel, but ... well, I guess that's kinda superfluous now, isn't it?"
Shocked for a moment at this rapid-fire revelation, Buffy was at a loss for words. Angel was also quite surprised, but quickly remembered his manners and held his hand out to the blonde girl.
"Pleased to meet you, Tara."
Tara smiled shyly and took his hand. The moment she did, though, she gasped and almost stumbled.
"Tara?" Willow was by her side immediately. "Tara, what's wrong?"
Angel quickly let go of her hand, fearing that he had injured her somehow. As the Huntsman he was even stronger than he had been at a vampire and he had had little or no time to get used to that yet. He probably had no trouble squashing a normal human's hand without even trying.
Tara did not seem injured, though. She was looking at him, no, at him and Buffy, with wide eyes.
#
Tara had always been good at reading auras. It had served her well in life, for the most at least. She was usually able to tell when someone was planning to deceive her or told a lie. It also allowed her glimpses into a person's soul, especially when physical contact was added to the equation. While she was not truly able to divine someone's future from something as simple as a palm reading, she did occasionally get glimpses and images.
When she touched the man called Angel the sensation was overwhelming. Willow had told her about him, said that he had once been a vampire. Therefore the images of blood and violence that hung over part of his being like a dark cloud came as no surprise. What did surprise her, though, was the blinding glare that surrounded him almost like a halo.
Looking at someone's aura was like looking at one of these 3D images. Sometimes you needed minutes, even hours, until the picture appeared from the seemingly random mess of gray dots, but once you saw it you could no longer not see it.
Tara looked at Angel, looked at Buffy who was standing by his side, and the light nestled deep inside both of them was so bright that it threatened to burn her eyes from her sockets, yet she could not turn away from it. She had never seen anything like this before.
She saw even more than that, though. The light was not warm and comforting, no. It was harsh and violent, the glare of an explosion rather than the soothing glow of a candle. Tara had grown up the daughter of a true witch and, as a result, spent many long days studying the forces that made up that which most people called magic. And magic, like so many other things, was useful only when used with moderation.
What she was looking at now was not moderate, not even in the least. She had often feared the one extreme of magic, the dark side, had seen people with nothing but good intentions fall into it and never come out again. Never before, though, had she really imagined that the other extreme was something to be feared as well.
The light that made up such large parts of these two people was white magic, maybe the ultimate in white magic. Absolute good, the forces of light in the purest possible form. To someone less familiar with the principles of magic this might not have sounded like something to be feared, but Tara was not one of those.
This was the kind of good that rained fire and brimstone on cities full of sinners. This was the kind of good that flooded an entire world because all those living on it were found wanting. This was the kind of good that tolerated not even the slightest taint of darkness and shadow, the kind that judged by a standard of purity and goodness that no one could possibly measure up to.
Tara looked at these two people Willow considered good friends and found herself filled with the urge to fall to her knees and pray for forgiveness.
"Goddess," she whispered, her voice filled with awe and fear.
TO BE CONTINUED
#
"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall want for nothing."
The priest's voice droned on, but Buffy was not paying any attention to it. Some detached part of her tried to figure out how often she had heard this particular requiem before. A dozen times? A hundred times? She had been to a lot of funerals. Mostly because she wanted to check out whether or not the deceased might rise as a vampire, but there had been a fair share of more personal ones, too.
Jesse. Ford. Jenny. Kendra. Larry. So many others.
And now Faith. In some way this struck her as even more wrong than anything else. Faith was the Slayer, chosen after Kendra died. It was not right that Buffy should still be alive after the two who had been chosen after her died. It was not right that the bond between her and Angel had come with the price tag of Faith's life. Buffy knew, just knew, that if Faith had woken up they would have managed to work things out somehow. Her sister Slayer would have had a chance to make it better, to make up for the things she had done.
Only now she never would. She was dead because the Slayer and the Huntsman needed to be together, undivided and whole. Buffy balled her fists and a tear ran down her cheek. Why did this have to happen? Why was this world fucking with her at every possible turn?
Angel's arm was around her shoulder and pulled her tighter against him as he felt her shake with suppressed sobs. His eyes were fixed on Faith's coffin, now slowly being lowered into the ground. Faith had tried to kill them all, had allied herself with evil, yet Angel could not find any solace in that thought. No one deserved to die like that, the life ripped out of her in her sleep by an indifferent metaphysical force. A force that had chosen her, not the other way around. Faith had never had a choice in that matter.
The Oracles had a lot to answer for. They should have warned him that something like this would happen if he took this shiny, destined, all- important chance they had so graciously offered him.
Only a few days had passed since that terrible night and things had remained quiet so far. Giles was in constant contact with Burke and his people, but had learned nothing beyond the fact that they were tending to their wounded and waiting for reinforcements. Team 666 was nowhere to be seen, but none of them believed they had left town. Giles, along with Willow and Xander, was also still in full research-mode, trying to find as many details about the Slayer, the Huntsman, and the bond between them as he could.
As for Buffy and Angel, they were more than busy enough trying to figure things out between them. Two people had died to bring them to this point, two people who had been dragged into this without their consent, chosen by forces that placed little value on individual lives.
Neither of them could help wondering whether it was all worth it.
They had spent the last days in almost constant contact, mostly because they were afraid what might happen if they were separated. If the lore they had could be trusted, the nature of their bond would not react well to any sort of distance between them. Neither of them wanted to risk losing control, not when they both felt stronger and more powerful than they had ever before.
Buffy looked up at her friends. Xander and Anya had come to the funeral, as well as Giles, Joyce, and Willow. The redhead had brought another girl along, a shy blonde none of them had ever met before, introduced to them as Tara. At any other time Buffy might have been wondering why Willow had not introduced them before, as the two were obviously quite familiar with each other, but she had other things on her mind right now.
The funeral seemed to go on forever and Buffy was constantly torn between simply running away and surrendering to the tears. Neither seemed like a particularly good idea, so she just did nothing. Angel's arm around her shoulders steadied her, the hum of his presence so close somehow managing to drown out the world around them, and they stood motionless until the coffin had disappeared from view and the priest closed his book.
Slowly the small crowd began to disperse. Faith had not had many friends here in Sunnydale. Buffy could see a few young men she did not know, a moment later scolding herself for automatically assuming where Faith would have known them from. The big surprise had been Wesley, whom no one had thought of since he had disappeared after graduation. Apparently the former watcher had encountered Cordelia in Los Angeles and she had let him know what had happened. Cordy herself was not here. Apparently she had landed a role in a soap opera since Angel had for all intents and purposes shut down Angel Investigations and was quite content with staying away from Sunnydale.
Someone was approaching them and Buffy looked up to see Riley and Burke, both of them dressed in black suits. She had not expected either of them to turn up here and, quite frankly, was not looking forward to speaking to them. Not after what had happened at the warehouse. What they had seen her do.
"My condolences, Ms. Summers," Burke said. He probably had no idea who Faith had been, Buffy realized, nor how she had come to be killed. Well, none of them saw the necessity of telling him about it. After learning the details of Project Inferno their trust of Burke and especially his superiors was greatly diminished.
They would probably have to tell them something, though, because Riley did a neck-wrenching double-take as he saw Angel standing beside Buffy, whole and healthy. The commando himself was still visibly bruised from the second beating he had taken at King's hands.
"Angel," Riley said, astonished. "How the hell ...?"
"Long story," he answered. "This is not the place to tell it."
He glanced at the tombstone the workers were putting up now. The Council had paid for the funeral and the tombstone, as Faith's sole living relative, her mother, had not reacted to any of the messages they had sent to her. Angel was a bit surprised that the Council had been so generous regarding a renegade Slayer, even as he wondered what kind of parent would not be there for the funeral of their child. This world was a very strange place sometimes.
Burke, indifferent toward Riley's confusion at the moment, continued to look at Buffy.
"Ms. Summers, I realize that this is a bad time, but I hope that you and Mr. Giles will soon be able to join us for ...," he trailed of, now looking at Angel as well, clearly considering how much to say in front of this stranger.
Buffy, too tired to think of things like nondisclosure agreements and secrecy, simply motioned for him to go on. "You can speak freely in front of Angel, Mr. Burke. He knows all about what goes bump in the night here on the Hellmouth." Not that she would ever tell Burke or any of his men that Angel had once been one of these bumpy things.
Burke gave Angel a very suspicious glance, but finally continued. "We have received reinforcements, Ms. Summers, and new orders. The problem of Team 666 must be dealt with as soon as possible."
Buffy looked up sharply, not liking his tone. "And what exactly do you mean by 'dealt with'?"
"I am talking about eliminating a threat to national security."
"You are talking about human beings, Burke! Human beings who were abused beyond anything I ..."
"Human beings who killed four of my men."
Buffy continued glaring at him, but was at a loss for words. What was she supposed to say to that? That two of the four casualties had been at Jackson King's hands? Well, that certainly made it all better, did it not? Four murders were an atrocity, but two were okay? It did not work that way and Buffy knew it. Team 666, no matter what they had gone through, were killers.
Then again she had the blood of two human beings on her own hands, did she not? What did that make her?
Angel, clearly seeing Buffy's distress, turned to glare at Burke. "This is not a good time."
For a moment the senior agent seemed about to protest, but then sighed and moved a hand through his graying hair. He, too, was worn and tired from everything that had happened. That was not an excuse to begin a shouting match at someone's funeral, though.
"I apologize," he said. "We need to meet soon, though. I doubt the current calm will last that much longer."
Angel and Buffy both nodded. On that, if nothing else, they could agree.
Burke turned and walked away. Riley hesitated for a moment, clearly still astonished about Angel's miraculous recovery. Buffy mouthed a silent 'later' to him. This was definitely not the time to tell Riley that Angel was now the host for the same force that had driven Jackson King over the edge and turned him into a killer. Would there ever be a good time for it? She rather doubted it. They needed a good story here. A lie. Yet more lies.
People began trickling out of the cemetery. Giles and Wesley were talking about something as they walked. Anya began tugging Xander away, probably wanting to do something that Buffy did not even want to hear about. The few strangers who had been present were already gone. Which only left Willow and her blonde friend, who were approaching them even now.
Buffy and her best friend hugged without words. Willow had never been particularly fond of Faith, neither before nor after her turn to the dark side, but she was too good a person to wish death to anyone. Besides, she knew exactly how Faith had come to die and how much Buffy would hurt over it.
"You holding up?" she asked softly as they separated.
Buffy nodded. "More or less. Who is your friend, Wills?"
Willow half-turned and motioned for the blonde to come closer.
"Buffy, Angel, this is Tara. Tara McClay. We met in that Wicca group I went to a few times on campus. She is a real witch, though, not just one of those phonies. She helped me with my little magical break-in into the pentagon computers. We also cooked up a healing spell for Angel, but ... well, I guess that's kinda superfluous now, isn't it?"
Shocked for a moment at this rapid-fire revelation, Buffy was at a loss for words. Angel was also quite surprised, but quickly remembered his manners and held his hand out to the blonde girl.
"Pleased to meet you, Tara."
Tara smiled shyly and took his hand. The moment she did, though, she gasped and almost stumbled.
"Tara?" Willow was by her side immediately. "Tara, what's wrong?"
Angel quickly let go of her hand, fearing that he had injured her somehow. As the Huntsman he was even stronger than he had been at a vampire and he had had little or no time to get used to that yet. He probably had no trouble squashing a normal human's hand without even trying.
Tara did not seem injured, though. She was looking at him, no, at him and Buffy, with wide eyes.
#
Tara had always been good at reading auras. It had served her well in life, for the most at least. She was usually able to tell when someone was planning to deceive her or told a lie. It also allowed her glimpses into a person's soul, especially when physical contact was added to the equation. While she was not truly able to divine someone's future from something as simple as a palm reading, she did occasionally get glimpses and images.
When she touched the man called Angel the sensation was overwhelming. Willow had told her about him, said that he had once been a vampire. Therefore the images of blood and violence that hung over part of his being like a dark cloud came as no surprise. What did surprise her, though, was the blinding glare that surrounded him almost like a halo.
Looking at someone's aura was like looking at one of these 3D images. Sometimes you needed minutes, even hours, until the picture appeared from the seemingly random mess of gray dots, but once you saw it you could no longer not see it.
Tara looked at Angel, looked at Buffy who was standing by his side, and the light nestled deep inside both of them was so bright that it threatened to burn her eyes from her sockets, yet she could not turn away from it. She had never seen anything like this before.
She saw even more than that, though. The light was not warm and comforting, no. It was harsh and violent, the glare of an explosion rather than the soothing glow of a candle. Tara had grown up the daughter of a true witch and, as a result, spent many long days studying the forces that made up that which most people called magic. And magic, like so many other things, was useful only when used with moderation.
What she was looking at now was not moderate, not even in the least. She had often feared the one extreme of magic, the dark side, had seen people with nothing but good intentions fall into it and never come out again. Never before, though, had she really imagined that the other extreme was something to be feared as well.
The light that made up such large parts of these two people was white magic, maybe the ultimate in white magic. Absolute good, the forces of light in the purest possible form. To someone less familiar with the principles of magic this might not have sounded like something to be feared, but Tara was not one of those.
This was the kind of good that rained fire and brimstone on cities full of sinners. This was the kind of good that flooded an entire world because all those living on it were found wanting. This was the kind of good that tolerated not even the slightest taint of darkness and shadow, the kind that judged by a standard of purity and goodness that no one could possibly measure up to.
Tara looked at these two people Willow considered good friends and found herself filled with the urge to fall to her knees and pray for forgiveness.
"Goddess," she whispered, her voice filled with awe and fear.
TO BE CONTINUED