Chapter II: Points for redemption.
Two months ago: Watcher's Council- England.
The sky is dark. Rupert Giles is at his office, drinking shot after shot of Scotch. He takes off his glasses and turns around and turns on a small CD player on his bookshelf. He picks up a CD case the reads "Mozart Collection". He sets it down on his desk and drinks the last drops left on his glass. He stands up, record still playing in the background, and he walks towards the window. He looks outside, pondering on recent events, and lets the music work its charm.
Xander: (opens the door) "Busy?"
Giles: "Mm? Oh, sorry. I was just" (stops the record with a remote) "um... what is it Xander?"
Xander: "Uh, nothing really. Just wanted to get away from the craziness outside, before it gets me."
Giles: "Yes, well," (walks over to his desk) "we all need a break from this. Angel's coup gave us plenty to work with" (sits on his chair and puts his glasses back on), "ahem to say the least."
Xander: "Mmm. You would think that waging war against the ultimate evil would only last the usual two, three days, huh?" (pauses for a bit) "Not so much."
Giles: (smiles) "Yes, well, we're not dealing with demon-robot hybrids anymore, Xander. It's only natural that things would turn up this.... badly."
They sit quietly for a while. Giles tends to several files and books laid out on his desk while Xander peruses the bookshelves. After a while he sits back down on his seat.
Xander: "Any word from the Buffster?"
Giles: (looks up from the book he was reading) "Uh?"
Xander: (leans forward) "Word. Buffy. From.... in the middle."
Giles: "No, Xander." (looks down at the book) "Nothing yet."
Xander: "Guess, it's finally coming down, isn't it?"
Giles: (he leans back on his chair and takes off his glasses again) "Yes, it is. All my sources say the same thing. Things were quiet until just a couple of hours ago." (pauses) "Apparently an enormous amount of demonic activity was detected in downtown Los Angeles. We haven't been able to locate the source yet. The only thing we are certain of is that it keeps... growing."
Xander: (ponders on those words for a couple of seconds) "Those aren't odds I'd play. When was the last time your sources checked?"
Giles: (holding his glasses in his mouth) "Hour ago."
Xander leans forward on his seat. He fears the worst may come to pass, yet he remains calm. He has seen many battles and he understands the casualties of war. He bites his nails, while Giles reads from the large book.
Giles: "Wesley."
Xander: (slightly startled) "Uh?"
Giles: "How is Wesley?"
Xander: "Still pretty much beat up. That big guy really let it loose on him."
Giles: "Yes. He really did, did he?"
Xander: "What do you mean?"
Giles: "He came here, left a significant amount of bodies and then, from the looks of it, threw Wesley all the way into the infirmary."
Xander: "Somehow I see a 'but' coming on."
Giles looks at him disoriented. Xander raises his right eyebrow as in response.
Giles: "Yes, um, but.... why didn't he take the template?"
Xander: "You mean to tell me that even with your keen Super-Watcher skills of deduction you came to notice that now?"
Giles looks at him undignified.
Xander: (cont.) "Giles, I'm only half-blind."
Giles: (sarcastic) "Yes, of course. Thank you for the wonderful insight, Xander."
Xander: "No problem, big guy."
Giles: "Putting a brave face, are you?"
Xander: (chuckles) "Yeah. How did you know?"
Giles: "The eye patch gave it away."
He stares at Xander whose expression quickly turns cold with worry.
Giles: (cont.) "They're going to be fine. Buffy and Willow are extraordinary women. They know how to take care of themselves. And Angel and Spike--"
Xander: (interrupts) "Spike." (chuckles) "Huh."
Giles: "What about him?"
Xander: "Ever... ever since he talked to Buffy I've barely heard her utter a coherent word, much less a phrase. If we were talking about somebody like Oz, then I wouldn't worry. He's laconic. There's not much that you can get out of the guy. But Buffy--"
Giles: (interrupts) "She's still dealing, Xander. I can't imagine it to be easy for a person to watch a loved one sacrifice himself and then appear casually from out of nowhere as good as new."
Xander: "I just don't think that's it. The guy didn't call her. He couldn't even write her a letter... for a year. I don't care how scared you are, you let her know. It's just plain common sense."
Giles: (serving himself another glass of scotch) "Are you sure you're not just saying this because you don't like him?"
Xander: "Well, I admit of not losing any sleep over his dying and all, but he did get points for redemption, I'll give him that."
Giles: (sarcastically) "Oh, I'm sure he did." (drinks from his refill and sets it on the desk) "But, I see your point. I'm afraid that Spike's presence may cause Buffy to lose focus, due to the circumstances that they've been together. Particularly those that happened lately."
Xander: "Especially lately."
Giles: (cont.) "Regardless the situation, Buffy is quite capable. I don't think it will be a negative factor. If anything she is far more driven by emotions than anyone I know." (he pauses for a bit) "I just ahem wish we knew more."
Giles puts his glasses back on. He turns his chair towards the window. Xander reclines against the back of his chair and looks outside as well. The night sky looks particularly peaceful, and they take the moment to reflect:
Giles: "Want a drink?"
Xander: "Not so much."
It's nearly 2 am in Los Angeles. She circles the stairwell on the roof touching its walls, occasionally scratching her red fingernails against the rough surface just to make noise. She repeats the same walking pattern she created when she first started circling it. Step by step, she follows it religiously.
The wind blows and it tosses her brown hair. She suddenly stops. She pays attention to the sound of the wind. She calmly walks towards the edge of building and reclines against the hard rock that circles the building. She puts her leather-covered hand against it as if trying to get a response from the concrete. To any casual observer she may just be reflecting on events long past, but to him she's probably just listening to the buzzing sound an atom makes as its little planets circle around its sun.
Wes: "Does it seem bigger now?"
Illyria: (looking at the L.A. skyline) "Perhaps. I... I don't know."
Wes walks towards her. He stands beside her and tucks his arms inside his jacket.
Wes: "Cold night."
Illyria looks at him.
Wes: "I suppose temperature isn't a factor to you, am I right?"
Illyria: "No" (looks back at the sky), "it isn't."
Wes: "What are you doing up here?"
Illyria: "I wanted to see. Everything here is more--"
Wes: (interrupting) "Peaceful?"
Illyria: (softly) "Yes."
Wes: "I know. It's somewhat satisfying."
Illyria: "Why are you--"
Wes: "Here?"
Illyria looks at him again.
Wes: (with a smile) "Let's just say I don't regard sleep as highly as used to."
Illyria turns her gaze back towards the city lights.
Wes: "Came up here looking for you."
She looks at him with the corner of her eyes.
Wes: "I used to come up here. A lot. To think. To.... get away from... everything." (pauses) "Staring into the city like this could fool you. It is... nothing more than an illusion. It tricks you into believing this... place, this city is safe. Truth is, it isn't. And it never will be. Kind of makes its nomenclature sound a bit ironic."
He notices her eyes are fixed on him.
Wes: (cont.) "I used to ponder on such things. That given time this would be a safe place. Of course, then I had my throat cut open and everyone I cared about abandon me. Put things in a different perspective, to say the least." (pauses) "Now all I have left if the fight."
Illyria: (uncertain) "Why?"
Wes: (remains quiet for a couple of seconds) "Because..." (breathes deep) "that is all I can do."
He remains quiet for a while, then turns around and heads towards the stairwell. Illyria watches intently as he walks away, but doesn't say a thing. He stops at the door.
Wes: "Don't stay up too late."
Illyria turns around to the stars just as the door closes behind Wes.
The dreams are all the same. They make him sweat through the night. Her pale face. Her fearful eyes. Her cold skin. Her tears. Blood. He tries to run from its sight, but he never is fast enough. She always comes to him, no matter how far he runs. She takes hold of him. She touches his face with her clammy fingers, whispering a lullaby as she kisses him. He can't escape. He doesn't try. He welcomes her kiss, hoping that it will take him away with her. This isn't his nightmare. This is his dream. He wakes up, every day that he can't force himself to remain awake, and realizes that it was just that. A dream. That is the nightmare.
-- Fin.
Two months ago: Watcher's Council- England.
The sky is dark. Rupert Giles is at his office, drinking shot after shot of Scotch. He takes off his glasses and turns around and turns on a small CD player on his bookshelf. He picks up a CD case the reads "Mozart Collection". He sets it down on his desk and drinks the last drops left on his glass. He stands up, record still playing in the background, and he walks towards the window. He looks outside, pondering on recent events, and lets the music work its charm.
Xander: (opens the door) "Busy?"
Giles: "Mm? Oh, sorry. I was just" (stops the record with a remote) "um... what is it Xander?"
Xander: "Uh, nothing really. Just wanted to get away from the craziness outside, before it gets me."
Giles: "Yes, well," (walks over to his desk) "we all need a break from this. Angel's coup gave us plenty to work with" (sits on his chair and puts his glasses back on), "ahem to say the least."
Xander: "Mmm. You would think that waging war against the ultimate evil would only last the usual two, three days, huh?" (pauses for a bit) "Not so much."
Giles: (smiles) "Yes, well, we're not dealing with demon-robot hybrids anymore, Xander. It's only natural that things would turn up this.... badly."
They sit quietly for a while. Giles tends to several files and books laid out on his desk while Xander peruses the bookshelves. After a while he sits back down on his seat.
Xander: "Any word from the Buffster?"
Giles: (looks up from the book he was reading) "Uh?"
Xander: (leans forward) "Word. Buffy. From.... in the middle."
Giles: "No, Xander." (looks down at the book) "Nothing yet."
Xander: "Guess, it's finally coming down, isn't it?"
Giles: (he leans back on his chair and takes off his glasses again) "Yes, it is. All my sources say the same thing. Things were quiet until just a couple of hours ago." (pauses) "Apparently an enormous amount of demonic activity was detected in downtown Los Angeles. We haven't been able to locate the source yet. The only thing we are certain of is that it keeps... growing."
Xander: (ponders on those words for a couple of seconds) "Those aren't odds I'd play. When was the last time your sources checked?"
Giles: (holding his glasses in his mouth) "Hour ago."
Xander leans forward on his seat. He fears the worst may come to pass, yet he remains calm. He has seen many battles and he understands the casualties of war. He bites his nails, while Giles reads from the large book.
Giles: "Wesley."
Xander: (slightly startled) "Uh?"
Giles: "How is Wesley?"
Xander: "Still pretty much beat up. That big guy really let it loose on him."
Giles: "Yes. He really did, did he?"
Xander: "What do you mean?"
Giles: "He came here, left a significant amount of bodies and then, from the looks of it, threw Wesley all the way into the infirmary."
Xander: "Somehow I see a 'but' coming on."
Giles looks at him disoriented. Xander raises his right eyebrow as in response.
Giles: "Yes, um, but.... why didn't he take the template?"
Xander: "You mean to tell me that even with your keen Super-Watcher skills of deduction you came to notice that now?"
Giles looks at him undignified.
Xander: (cont.) "Giles, I'm only half-blind."
Giles: (sarcastic) "Yes, of course. Thank you for the wonderful insight, Xander."
Xander: "No problem, big guy."
Giles: "Putting a brave face, are you?"
Xander: (chuckles) "Yeah. How did you know?"
Giles: "The eye patch gave it away."
He stares at Xander whose expression quickly turns cold with worry.
Giles: (cont.) "They're going to be fine. Buffy and Willow are extraordinary women. They know how to take care of themselves. And Angel and Spike--"
Xander: (interrupts) "Spike." (chuckles) "Huh."
Giles: "What about him?"
Xander: "Ever... ever since he talked to Buffy I've barely heard her utter a coherent word, much less a phrase. If we were talking about somebody like Oz, then I wouldn't worry. He's laconic. There's not much that you can get out of the guy. But Buffy--"
Giles: (interrupts) "She's still dealing, Xander. I can't imagine it to be easy for a person to watch a loved one sacrifice himself and then appear casually from out of nowhere as good as new."
Xander: "I just don't think that's it. The guy didn't call her. He couldn't even write her a letter... for a year. I don't care how scared you are, you let her know. It's just plain common sense."
Giles: (serving himself another glass of scotch) "Are you sure you're not just saying this because you don't like him?"
Xander: "Well, I admit of not losing any sleep over his dying and all, but he did get points for redemption, I'll give him that."
Giles: (sarcastically) "Oh, I'm sure he did." (drinks from his refill and sets it on the desk) "But, I see your point. I'm afraid that Spike's presence may cause Buffy to lose focus, due to the circumstances that they've been together. Particularly those that happened lately."
Xander: "Especially lately."
Giles: (cont.) "Regardless the situation, Buffy is quite capable. I don't think it will be a negative factor. If anything she is far more driven by emotions than anyone I know." (he pauses for a bit) "I just ahem wish we knew more."
Giles puts his glasses back on. He turns his chair towards the window. Xander reclines against the back of his chair and looks outside as well. The night sky looks particularly peaceful, and they take the moment to reflect:
Giles: "Want a drink?"
Xander: "Not so much."
It's nearly 2 am in Los Angeles. She circles the stairwell on the roof touching its walls, occasionally scratching her red fingernails against the rough surface just to make noise. She repeats the same walking pattern she created when she first started circling it. Step by step, she follows it religiously.
The wind blows and it tosses her brown hair. She suddenly stops. She pays attention to the sound of the wind. She calmly walks towards the edge of building and reclines against the hard rock that circles the building. She puts her leather-covered hand against it as if trying to get a response from the concrete. To any casual observer she may just be reflecting on events long past, but to him she's probably just listening to the buzzing sound an atom makes as its little planets circle around its sun.
Wes: "Does it seem bigger now?"
Illyria: (looking at the L.A. skyline) "Perhaps. I... I don't know."
Wes walks towards her. He stands beside her and tucks his arms inside his jacket.
Wes: "Cold night."
Illyria looks at him.
Wes: "I suppose temperature isn't a factor to you, am I right?"
Illyria: "No" (looks back at the sky), "it isn't."
Wes: "What are you doing up here?"
Illyria: "I wanted to see. Everything here is more--"
Wes: (interrupting) "Peaceful?"
Illyria: (softly) "Yes."
Wes: "I know. It's somewhat satisfying."
Illyria: "Why are you--"
Wes: "Here?"
Illyria looks at him again.
Wes: (with a smile) "Let's just say I don't regard sleep as highly as used to."
Illyria turns her gaze back towards the city lights.
Wes: "Came up here looking for you."
She looks at him with the corner of her eyes.
Wes: "I used to come up here. A lot. To think. To.... get away from... everything." (pauses) "Staring into the city like this could fool you. It is... nothing more than an illusion. It tricks you into believing this... place, this city is safe. Truth is, it isn't. And it never will be. Kind of makes its nomenclature sound a bit ironic."
He notices her eyes are fixed on him.
Wes: (cont.) "I used to ponder on such things. That given time this would be a safe place. Of course, then I had my throat cut open and everyone I cared about abandon me. Put things in a different perspective, to say the least." (pauses) "Now all I have left if the fight."
Illyria: (uncertain) "Why?"
Wes: (remains quiet for a couple of seconds) "Because..." (breathes deep) "that is all I can do."
He remains quiet for a while, then turns around and heads towards the stairwell. Illyria watches intently as he walks away, but doesn't say a thing. He stops at the door.
Wes: "Don't stay up too late."
Illyria turns around to the stars just as the door closes behind Wes.
The dreams are all the same. They make him sweat through the night. Her pale face. Her fearful eyes. Her cold skin. Her tears. Blood. He tries to run from its sight, but he never is fast enough. She always comes to him, no matter how far he runs. She takes hold of him. She touches his face with her clammy fingers, whispering a lullaby as she kisses him. He can't escape. He doesn't try. He welcomes her kiss, hoping that it will take him away with her. This isn't his nightmare. This is his dream. He wakes up, every day that he can't force himself to remain awake, and realizes that it was just that. A dream. That is the nightmare.
-- Fin.