FORTY
* * *
He sat quietly, one foot propped up, resting his elbow against the knee, chin in hand, staring. It was easy to do this, despite the fact there was nothing to stare at, and he found that he actually enjoyed it, enjoyed the chance to think, to relax, to do nothing.
How long had it been since he had been able to do that?
From time to time, however, he would move a bit, turning his head and glancing at what lay behind him. There was no change each time, nothing new or different to see, but he supposed it was early yet and he shouldn't expect anything.
He turned his gaze forward again.
The question of time came again. How long had it been? Long enough? Would it ever be long enough?
He thought about this for a long while.
Probably not. There was no going back, of course, no undoing what he had done. And as he sat, he realized that he was all right with this, that the price he would pay was worth it, in the end. Not for the reasons one might think, but for deeper ones, more profound ones. He had learned, he realized, this valuable lesson at last.
Moments passed in the silence.
The only judge you have to really answer to, in the end, is yourself. The pain inflicted by others, the neglect, the cruelty, all that is nothing compared to what you do to yourself.
He saw as well, then, sitting there, the cost of this lesson. For him it had come higher than most; very well. But all had to learn it, had to pay. Those who did not, who thought they could escape who they were, who thought that they need not answer to themselves, paid an even dearer price than he had.
He had known such people well.
And for the first time he could remember, he felt no regrets.
I did what I had to do.
#
Some time later there was motion behind him, and he turned again to look. Reality was different here and he wondered for a moment if that was affecting things. The motion, as he watched, was joined by a moan, and now he climbed from the driver's seat, turning his back to the swirls of nothingness that played outside the windshield, and moved back to the rear of the van.
She stirred as he held her head up in his lap, bringing a cup of water to her lips.
Her eyes fluttered open.
"Jonathan?"
He nodded.
She tensed then, tried to pull away, but she was still weak from the drugs, still groggy.
"It's all right," he said. "You're all right."
His voice calmed her. He was glad for that; the last thing he needed was for her to let loose with some of her magics, not here, wherever this place was.
Limbo.
Maybe. Names don't matter, really. A rose, you know, by any other name ....
Willow looked up at him again. He wondered how he looked to her, in his black turtleneck and pants, his black boots. A villain? An archnemesis? How had he ever looked to her, all those years in school when even she had been higher on the social scale than he was?
Short, boring, miserable Jonathan. The school joke.
No matter. What she thought of him, what any of them thought, didn't matter anymore.
She moved a bit and he helped her get more comfortable. The back of the van was warm, smelling a bit of her, of her long captivity. He listened as she spoke again.
"Jonathan, I don't understand."
"It's all right," he said again. "I got you out. They never suspected a thing."
"Warren? Andrew?"
His voice darkened.
"Gone."
"How?"
He gave her a smile. "Hey, I'm the guy who changed the whole world, remember? Changing one corner of one forest was easy. You know magic. You know what it can do. If everyone hadn't been so interested in seeing what they wanted to see, they would have known that you and I and this van weren't really there. But people usually just see what they want to, don't they?"
She looked at him for a long time and he saw that she understood what he meant. Then she nodded.
"Yes," she said, "that's true."
#
After a few more hours she was able to sit up, and he took out the picnic lunch he had packed and shared it with her. She ate hungrily and chuckled when he mentioned that he had made sure it was all kosher. When they had finished the two of them moved up to the front seats and stared for a while out into the swirls of nothingness.
"Where are we?" she asked him.
"Different dimension," he said. "People are always looking for and talking about demon dimensions. They always want to find places with hellgods or monsters. But there are millions of other places that get ignored, like this one. I found it because it was what I was looking for, when I started."
"What was that?"
"A place where there was nothing. I figured I'd be at home here."
She looked at him now for several minutes.
"Are you?" she asked.
"No."
She went silent.
"When I found this place," he said then, "I never told anyone. I used to come here a lot, when --"
His voice trailed off.
"How long?" she asked finally.
"It's hard to say. Time moves differently here. We'll have to go back soon, though. That's the thing about limbo: it won't let you stay forever."
"I guess nothing is forever, is it?"
"Nothing worth having, except that one thing." He leaned forward to start the van, and she reached out and just touched his arm.
"Jonathan," she said, "Thank you."
The engine kicked on, the haze outside faded, and then, in a flash of light, the van hit the pavement, tires gripping asphalt, and accelerated down the empty road. A sign, passing quickly, put Sunnydale at fifty miles ahead.
* * *
He sat quietly, one foot propped up, resting his elbow against the knee, chin in hand, staring. It was easy to do this, despite the fact there was nothing to stare at, and he found that he actually enjoyed it, enjoyed the chance to think, to relax, to do nothing.
How long had it been since he had been able to do that?
From time to time, however, he would move a bit, turning his head and glancing at what lay behind him. There was no change each time, nothing new or different to see, but he supposed it was early yet and he shouldn't expect anything.
He turned his gaze forward again.
The question of time came again. How long had it been? Long enough? Would it ever be long enough?
He thought about this for a long while.
Probably not. There was no going back, of course, no undoing what he had done. And as he sat, he realized that he was all right with this, that the price he would pay was worth it, in the end. Not for the reasons one might think, but for deeper ones, more profound ones. He had learned, he realized, this valuable lesson at last.
Moments passed in the silence.
The only judge you have to really answer to, in the end, is yourself. The pain inflicted by others, the neglect, the cruelty, all that is nothing compared to what you do to yourself.
He saw as well, then, sitting there, the cost of this lesson. For him it had come higher than most; very well. But all had to learn it, had to pay. Those who did not, who thought they could escape who they were, who thought that they need not answer to themselves, paid an even dearer price than he had.
He had known such people well.
And for the first time he could remember, he felt no regrets.
I did what I had to do.
#
Some time later there was motion behind him, and he turned again to look. Reality was different here and he wondered for a moment if that was affecting things. The motion, as he watched, was joined by a moan, and now he climbed from the driver's seat, turning his back to the swirls of nothingness that played outside the windshield, and moved back to the rear of the van.
She stirred as he held her head up in his lap, bringing a cup of water to her lips.
Her eyes fluttered open.
"Jonathan?"
He nodded.
She tensed then, tried to pull away, but she was still weak from the drugs, still groggy.
"It's all right," he said. "You're all right."
His voice calmed her. He was glad for that; the last thing he needed was for her to let loose with some of her magics, not here, wherever this place was.
Limbo.
Maybe. Names don't matter, really. A rose, you know, by any other name ....
Willow looked up at him again. He wondered how he looked to her, in his black turtleneck and pants, his black boots. A villain? An archnemesis? How had he ever looked to her, all those years in school when even she had been higher on the social scale than he was?
Short, boring, miserable Jonathan. The school joke.
No matter. What she thought of him, what any of them thought, didn't matter anymore.
She moved a bit and he helped her get more comfortable. The back of the van was warm, smelling a bit of her, of her long captivity. He listened as she spoke again.
"Jonathan, I don't understand."
"It's all right," he said again. "I got you out. They never suspected a thing."
"Warren? Andrew?"
His voice darkened.
"Gone."
"How?"
He gave her a smile. "Hey, I'm the guy who changed the whole world, remember? Changing one corner of one forest was easy. You know magic. You know what it can do. If everyone hadn't been so interested in seeing what they wanted to see, they would have known that you and I and this van weren't really there. But people usually just see what they want to, don't they?"
She looked at him for a long time and he saw that she understood what he meant. Then she nodded.
"Yes," she said, "that's true."
#
After a few more hours she was able to sit up, and he took out the picnic lunch he had packed and shared it with her. She ate hungrily and chuckled when he mentioned that he had made sure it was all kosher. When they had finished the two of them moved up to the front seats and stared for a while out into the swirls of nothingness.
"Where are we?" she asked him.
"Different dimension," he said. "People are always looking for and talking about demon dimensions. They always want to find places with hellgods or monsters. But there are millions of other places that get ignored, like this one. I found it because it was what I was looking for, when I started."
"What was that?"
"A place where there was nothing. I figured I'd be at home here."
She looked at him now for several minutes.
"Are you?" she asked.
"No."
She went silent.
"When I found this place," he said then, "I never told anyone. I used to come here a lot, when --"
His voice trailed off.
"How long?" she asked finally.
"It's hard to say. Time moves differently here. We'll have to go back soon, though. That's the thing about limbo: it won't let you stay forever."
"I guess nothing is forever, is it?"
"Nothing worth having, except that one thing." He leaned forward to start the van, and she reached out and just touched his arm.
"Jonathan," she said, "Thank you."
The engine kicked on, the haze outside faded, and then, in a flash of light, the van hit the pavement, tires gripping asphalt, and accelerated down the empty road. A sign, passing quickly, put Sunnydale at fifty miles ahead.
