A/N: Sorry for the long wait for the second part. Life has been hectic, to put it mildly. But I did manage to write this. Really sorry about the shortness; it's about half the length of what I would have liked it to be. I try to have the chapters around 20 pages. This one was barely ten. Next one will be longer. Promise. Maybe. :) Unbetaed (sorry, Johanna) so please forgive me for any mistakes. I just wanted to get this out as soon as possible. If anyone sees any major mistakes, please tell me so that I can fix them. Thanks.
"The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together." --Shakespeare, Twelfth-Night, IV, iii, 83
The Web of Our Life: Part II
By Gaeriel Mallory
New York, New York
It was late at night. The two forms beneath the covers were still. Willow Rosenberg dreamed. She was standing in a dark sewer. Hello? she called out. Is anyone here? Mist swirled around her ankles.
She took a step and the mist turned solid, becoming a white snake that curled around her legs. She screamed and tried to get away but she backed into the wall. The snake crept farther up her body, pinning her arms at her sides. Just as the snake bared its fangs and was about to bite her neck, the wall behind her dissolved and she fell through. The snake disappeared.
She looked around the room she was in. She was still in the sewers, but the cavern was reasonably clean. There was an altar on the other side on which lay a large green egg. Even as she watched, the egg began to shake and a hairline crack appeared down its side. The Rising is coming, a voice whispered against her skin. The Rising...
The egg split open.
Willow sat up straight in her bed, trembling and covered in sweat. Beside her, Tara opened her eyes and looked at her. "What's the matter, baby?" she asked sleepily.
Willow took a deep breath. "Something bad is coming. Something very bad."
* * *
At breakfast, the Scooby gang (minus Dawn) sat together at a table in the dining room. Dawn had joined Rogue and Jubilee at their table instead. Willow took a sip of her coffee. "Why me?" she asked plaintively. "I've never had prophetic dreams before. That's always been Buffy."
Giles pushed his glasses up onto the bride of his nose. "I do not know. Perhaps your dabbling in magic has made you that much more susceptible to these dreams. Or it could be that this Rising you referred to will deal with you directly. I cannot say for sure." He sighed and stirred his tea. "I do wish I had my books with me. You said that you do not know what was in the egg?"
Willow shook her head. "I woke up just when it hatched. But I know it was evil." She put her arms around herself and shuddered. "It was bad. Really bad." She looked over at Buffy. "End of the world bad."
The Slayer groaned slightly. "This is supposed to be my vacation. For one stinking week, can't I get a break from demons and apocalypses and vampires? Is that so much to ask?"
"You're the Slayer; it is your duty. You cannot escape it. I had thought you learned that once already when you first came to Sunnydale." Giles looked at his charge sternly.
She rolled her eyes. "I was being sarcastic, Giles. Sheesh. I have like the worst job in the entire world. I'm allowed to gripe and complain."
Xander grinned. "You really need to talk to someone about getting you a dental plan. Maybe some vacations and sick days."
Buffy snorted. "Forget benefits. How about just getting paid? Hell, I'd settle even for a simple 'thank you' every once in a while. Instead, what do I get? Expelled from school—twice!—and almost burned at the stake."
"And by your own mother, no less."
"Not helping, Xander." She glared at him.
Willow cleared her throat. "Hey, um, back to the dream. What are we going to do about it?"
Giles buttered some toast. "I'll give some old colleagues of mine a call. Hopefully, they'll overlook the fact that I'm no longer a Watcher given that there's a chance that this could be the apocalypse."
Tara smiled a bit at that before turning to her girlfriend. "Hey, didn't you tell me that you used to be pretty good with computers?"
Willow nodded. "I did bring my laptop. I haven't been using it as much but I think I still know the basics."
Xander reached over and clapped her on the back. "There's the little hacker that we all know and love." He leaned over towards Anya. "She could break into the city morgue's system in under twenty seconds. It was pretty cool. Kinda creepy and sick, but still cool."
The conversation turned towards more mundane things as they continued eating breakfast. Scott wandered over just as they were finishing. "We're leaving for the art gallery in about fifteen minutes. Just thought I'd give you guys a heads up."
Buffy shook her head. "Sorry, coz, but we can't go. We have to go save the world again."
Willow spoke up. "Hey, just cause I have to be sitting in front of the computer all day doesn't mean you guys can't go and have fun. You go ahead. If I find anything, I'll call you guys on the cell phone."
"You sure, Will? I wouldn't want to leave you all alone."
She shook her head and grinned. "Nah, I'll have Giles to keep me company. He has to call all his old contacts, remember?"
"Hey, that's right." Xander looked over at the Watcher. "Why don't you give ol' Spike a call and have him go through your books for you?"
Giles glared at him and sniffed.
* * *
As they were heading out for the buses, Buffy caught sight of a newsstand. She ran over and grabbed a copy of the Daily Bugle and hurriedly paid for it. Dawn looked over at her. "What's up with the paper?"
"I just want to check something, that's all." As she took her seat on the bus, she flipped through the paper until she came to the Arts section. Scanning the articles, she finally found on the one about the jewels exhibit at the museum. Her smiling face stared up at her. Huh, what do you know. Guess you really were legit, she read the credit under the picture, Mr. Peter Parker. She carefully folded up the paper and slipped it into her bag.
Buffy then turned her attention to the conversation between her sister and the boy known as Remy. As the Cajun flirted with Dawn, Buffy glared daggers into the back of his head. He'd better watch it or he will have both Scott and me coming after him.
* * *
As they were getting off the buses at the art gallery, Scott cornered Buffy. "What's this about saving the world?"
Buffy shrugged. "Ah, same old same old. Willow has some prophetic dream that the world is going to end. She and Giles do their research thing. When they find out what is going to happen, I go in and kill stuff and stop it. No biggie."
"I really think you should let us help."
"Scott, thanks. Really. The end of the world may be something unusual to you guys but it's just another day of the week to me. There was one month where there was an apocalypse prophecy twice a week. Trust me, I can handle it."
"If you say so. But promise me if you need help or even if you think you need help—"
"Yeah yeah." Buffy rolled her eyes. "When did you turn into my mother? If I need help, I'll ask for it."
"Promise?" He stared at her through his glasses.
"Yes, I promise. Sheesh. Overprotective, much?"
He grinned a bit sheepishly. "I can't help it. You're the only family I have. Gotta watch out for you and all."
She smiled a bit. "Well, little Buffy is all grown up and can whoop your ass blindfolded."
He laughed at that. "Be careful." He headed off towards the group of students he was chaperoning. Buffy shook her head ruefully after him. So that's what it's like having a big brother. Huh.
* * *
Peter was web-slinging from building to building, enjoying the feel of the sun on his back. He neatly performed a somersault onto a gargoyle and rested there for a moment, surveying the city.
"Hello, Spider."
He looked up in surprise to see a masked woman dressed in a skintight black jumpsuit crouched on a windowsill above him. "Black Cat! When did you get back to New York?"
She stretched. "Just this morning. Thought I'd come by and pay a visit to an old friend." She smiled lazily at him.
"What brings you back here? Are Blade and Morbius with you?"
"Vampire trouble. What else? And yes, they're with me. Michael is sleeping and Blade is 'meditating', which means he's sleeping as well."
Spider-man sat in thought. He remembered the encounter in the alley last night and the appearance of the blond girl, Buffy. Black Cat had joined with two others to fight vampires, traveling all over the world to find them. Surely she would know more about vampire lore than he did. "Tell me, Cat, have you ever heard of someone called the Slayer?"
She seemed surprise at the question. "Here and there. She's supposedly some bogeyman for vampires. Never seen any proof that she's real though. She's probably some legend."
"She's no legend. She's here in the city. I saw her last night; talked to her even."
"Hmm." She stared out over the city. "I wonder if that is why..." Her voice trailed off.
"Why what?" Spider-man looked over at his friend. "Cat, tell me."
"The vampires are gathering here in New York. That's why we're here. We didn't know why but if the Slayer is here..." She shot a jumpline from her wrist. "I have to go, Spider. Catch you later!" She swung from the building.
"Wait! Cat!" Spider-man was about to shoot a stream of webbing but even as he watched, she swung around a building and was gone from his sight. He sighed and crouched back down on the gargoyle.
* * *
Giles paced around his hotel room, phone to his ear. "Good God, man! Can't you put aside your petty differences for just one bloody minute? While you diddle away, the entire world could end!"
He paused, listening to the person on the other line. "What do you mean the Council will come after you if you do? Well, I'm sure they'll understanding considering the survival of the world hangs in the balance."
His face contorted into anger. "What do you mean, I'm personae non grata to the Council? In case they forgot, I'm the only Watcher with a Slayer under my charge. The other one is in prison for murder! It's not like there's anyone else!"
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, hell. Just forget about it. But when the whole world comes to an end, don't come crawling to me!" He slammed the receiver back onto the base and leaned against the dresser, breathing heavily. Taking a moment to compose himself, he sighed before picking up the phone again and dialing another number.
"Hello? May I speak to Marsha Pullman? Tell her this is Rupert Giles."
* * *
"Hi, I was wondering if you could tell me if there was a Buffy Summers staying in your hotel?" Peter chewed on his pencil as he stared at the list of hotels in front of him. "Buffy. B-U-F-F-Y. No? Thanks, anyway." He hung up the phone and drew a line through one of the names on the paper and sat back with a sigh.
Who knew there were so many hotels in New York City? He had worked his way through about half of them, asking for the Slayer. "I should have put a tracer on her when I had the chance," he grumbled to himself.
He glanced over at the window of the Daily Bugle pressroom, looking longingly at the blue sky. Uh-uh, Parker, he told himself. Work and then play. He picked up the phone again and dialed the next number on the list.
"Hi, could you tell me if you have a Buffy Summers staying at your hotel? You do? Really? That's great. Could I leave a message? Tell her that Peter Parker is looking for her and that's it important. It has to deal with her night job." He gave the concierge his work and home numbers and then hung up. Success! Now hopefully she'll actually get the message and call him. Or...
He did know what hotel she was staying at. And who knows what time she'll get back. He grabbed his jacket and his notebook and headed out the door. "Hey, Robbie!" he called out to the assistant editor. "Tell Jameson that I'm taking the rest of the day for myself. I got something to do."
* * *
Willow stuck her pencil in her mouth and continued typing on the keyboard. The demonic search engine that she had used in high school no longer existed, as was the Encyclopedia Prophetica. She chewed on the pencil and ran a hand through her hair. Sighing, she resumed her search.
Huh, this looks promising. She clicked on the link 'Current Apocalyptic Prophecies—Updated Monthly' and came to a page that listed prophecies by date. Scrolling down, she scanned those for the week and the upcoming week. Yes! Gotcha.
She clicked on 'The Rising of the One', scheduled for Sunday night. The pencil dropped from her mouth as she read the description. "Oh," she whispered. "That's why."
* * *
Peter knocked again on the door of the hotel room before giving up. He searched his pockets for a piece of paper and something to write with, planning to slip a note under the door. He found the little notebook that he had written the list of hotels in but no pen. Not even a stub of a pencil. Well, I could always prick my finger and write in blood. Might actually make sense in this case.
The door behind him opened and a man with graying hair and glasses stepped out. "Oh, excuse me," he said when he saw Peter. "May I help you?"
"Depends. Do you know Buffy Summers?"
The man pushed his glasses up his nose and stared at Peter suspiciously. "Who wants to know?"
"I'm Peter Parker. I work for the Bugle as a photographer. I'm also a friend of Spider-man's. He asked me to give a message to Buffy; he said it had to do with her night job."
"Night job." The man leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. He looked sternly at Peter. "And just what might you mean when you say that?"
Inwardly, Peter groaned. "I mean her night job." He nibbled his lower lip, debating how much to reveal. If this guy doesn't know anything about what she does... "Girl has a nasty right hook. Once to the face and again through the chest."
Behind his glasses, Giles's eyes narrowed. "I see. You said you had a message from Spider-man, did you? And just how do you know him?"
"I take his picture sometimes. He lets me."
"And how does, ahem, Spider-man know of Buffy?"
"He ran into her last night while out patrolling. He has some information for her."
"That he asked you to deliver." The man's voice was carefully neutral.
Peter felt like screaming in frustration. "Yes. I said that already."
Without warning, the man stood up straight and pushed his glasses up onto his face. "Rupert Giles," he said, holding out his hand.
Peter glanced down at it briefly, hesitating before clasping it. "Peter Parker." The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "So, did I pass?"
The older man smiled slightly in return. "More or less. Mind you, I'll be watching you, but you've convinced me that you do know something. What that is or how much is yet to be determined."
"In other words, I'm on probation."
There was a genuine smile this time. "Yes, you could put it that way." Giles held open the door to his hotel room and waited. Peter glanced at him curiously before walking through.
"So I take it that you know Buffy?" he asked idly as he took a seat at the small table in the room. He studied the room briefly, unconsciously scanning for traps and potential weapons.
"I suppose you could call me her mentor." Giles walked to the window and opened the curtains, letting warm sunshine into the room. Peter squinted a bit at the sudden brightness, noticing that the Brit was watching him closely.
"I'm not going to burst into flames," he remarked dryly. "I can assure you that I am one hundred percent alive."
"You understand, I had to be sure. One can never be too careful, especially in my line of work." After cracking open the window and taking a deep breath of the (relatively) fresh air, Giles took the seat opposite of Peter and leaned back into it. "Now, if you would like to relay your message, I will make sure that Buffy will receive it."
Peter studied the other man before speaking. Something told him to Rupert Giles was a man that could be trusted. And his Spider-sense had not gone off, alerting him of potential danger. He relaxed slightly. "Spidey has a friend who's a vampire hunter. She's in town and told him that the vampires are gathering in the city."
Giles cleared his throat. "You'll forgive me for being skeptical, but in a city this size, a large amount of vampire activity would be normal. How would anyone know that the population has increased?"
"Look, yeah, we have vampires. They're everywhere, like roaches. But they keep quiet usually, trying not to be noticed. Every once in a while, one of the resident superheroes will have to take out an entire nest, but for the most part, bloodsucking goings-on are pretty low. Spider-man told me that he's noticed an increase in the people found drained of blood and I trust him. And he trusts his friend which is good enough for me."
"I'll tell Buffy." Giles stood up and gestured towards the door. "I do appreciate you coming to tell me this and I'm sure she will as well."
Peter gritted his teeth, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. Fine, you want to play that way old man? Let's see if you can get rid of Spider-man this easily. He was about to leave when a young red-haired woman burst through the door.
"Giles! I found it! I know what the Rising is..." Her voice trailed off when she noticed Peter standing in the room. "Oh. I didn't know you had company."
"He was just leaving." Giles nodded at Peter. "It was very nice meeting you, Mr. Parker."
"Sure. You, too." Peter waved nonchalantly as he walked out the door. Less than a minute later, a blue and red figure landed on the side of the hotel and crawled across the wall to the open window of Giles's hotel room.
Spider-man leaned closer to the window, blocking out the usual city noise to concentrate on the conversation going on within.
"…finally found it. The Rising is this big massive ritual thing that pulls vampires from all over the world to it. They come to see this creature that's supposed to bring about the end of humanity be born or something."
"Interesting." Giles's voice floated through the window to where Spider-man was listening. "That would explain Mr. Parker's message about the vampires gathering."
"But get this: apparently, the creature needs to feed as soon as it's born. It has to eat three witches, the more powerful the better, within ten minutes of being born or it will die."
"That would explain your dream. If you were one of the witches being targeted…"
"What? No way. Uh uh, Giles. I am not becoming some entrée for some apocalyptic demon. I've been there before, and I can tell you that it is not fun. I refuse. I absolutely—"
"Of course, Willow. I have no intention of letting you be taken. I am just commenting on the nature of your prophetic dream."
"I still don't like it."
"Perfectly understandable. Do you know when this Rising is supposed to take place?"
"Sometime Sunday night. Probably at sunset or moonrise or something. That part of the prophecy was pretty vague."
Giles sighed. "Figures. Well, at least that buys us some time to try and stop it before it happens. I really dislike preventing these things at the eleventh hour. It's bad for my heart."
"You do realize that today is Friday, right? That means Sunday is only two days away."
"Compared to some of things we've averted with only seconds to spare, I would think that two days would be child's play."
In his mind, Spider-man imagined the exasperated glare that the girl—Willow?—was giving Giles. "I can do some more research. Maybe try and find a more exact time or how to kill this creature or something."
"You go do that. Meanwhile, I'll continue calling those weak-livered fools that I used to call my colleagues."
The conversation turned towards more mundane matters and Spider-man moved a few feet away from the window before shooting out a webline. The Rising, huh? Why do I get the feeling that they're not talking about bread? He sighed as he headed back towards the Daily Bugle. Well, that's New York City for you. Never a dull moment. Just another day in the life of the friendly neighborhood Spider-man.
He reached the rooftop of the building and found the clothes that he had stashed there. Changing back into Peter Parker, photographer and science nerd, he made a mental note to contact Black Cat as soon as possible.
In the meantime, he had to face J. Jonah Jameson for taking off for two hours without permission. He sighed as he walked down the stairs to the newsroom. Squaring his shoulders, he pushed opened the door and let the hub of activity engulf him. A gruff voice bellowed from a corner of the room. "Parker! Where in tarnation were you? There's a hostage situation at the art gallery on Twenty-second. I want you there half and hour ago!"
Peter waved his hand and grabbed his camera. "I'm on it, Mr. Jameson." Never a dull moment. Right.