Fury by SLynn
Author's Notes: I am so sorry this story is taking so long to write. It's not just life getting in the way here, but the story itself. Most times when I write I don't know where I'm heading and it's kind of fun to find out. This one has stalled for awhile, but I'm fairly confident it's now back in swing. Please read and review. Forgive me my spelling and grammar errors MS Word only does so much.
All the things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams. Elias Canetti
Chapter 11: The Dreamers
Xander wandered aimlessly around his cell. It had been three weeks. Well, he couldn't b be entirely certain but it had been three weeks since he had began to count the days. There was no telling really how long he'd been here. He wasn't even sure he was really counting 'days'. He had no clock, no light and little food or water. There was nothing he knew for certain except that he was growing thin and maybe insane.
He hadn't seen Constance since she'd told him what she wanted to do.
Once a day, if it really is just once, someone came to walk him down the hall to use the bathroom. From this he gathered the only information he could about where he was. The bathroom was three doors away from his cell. He was usually given about five minutes, sometimes longer.
From the bathroom things were less muffled. Xander could hear noises he couldn't from his cell. He'd guessed before that his cell might be soundproof, but the bathroom wasn't. From the bathroom he sometimes heard noise, like fog horns. He must be closer to the water, much closer. But that was all he could figure.
The person, sometimes a man but usually a woman, would never speak to him. Xander was beginning to think they couldn't or weren't allowed too. They all appeared to have a dazed look about them. Like they were sleeping with their eyes open. And he never saw the same person twice. Never. Twenty- one trips to the bathroom and he had never seen the same person twice.
Once back in his cell Xander would always find fresh linen and a tray of food and water. It was then he would mark another day off his calendar. Calendar was a bit of a stretch; all he had actually done was scratch 21 marks onto his cot. Still that small act made him feel like he still had some control over his life.
Not that this was actually living. You couldn't call it that. It was just existing. Xander hadn't felt alive in a very long time. Since before Constance, a time that seemed like years before when it was really only months.
After the furies curse had been lifted by Willow he'd felt it again. What it was to live. But that moment had been fleeting. Now it seemed almost impossible to remember.
Xander sat on the floor for no other reason then it was something different then the cot. If he sat on the cot he might fall asleep again.
And sleep was bad. Very bad. When Xander slept he dreamed. Horrible, horrible dreams. Worse then anything he'd ever experienced before mainly because they seemed so real.
He knew, absolutely knew, Constance was somehow behind them. But knowing that didn't make it easier.
The dreams were so vivid, so alive. He woke from them cold and sweaty and constantly trying to reassure himself that they weren't real.
And he knew that too. But knowing that didn't make it easier either.
They weren't real, the dreams weren't real.
At least not yet.
****
She was doing it again.
No one had seen or heard from Xander or Constance in nearly a month and Buffy was starting to crack.
Dawn turned over in her bed, trying to muffle the sounds of her older sister crying in the next room. It was just past two in the morning. She couldn't remember Buffy ever crying this much. Buffy wasn't a crier, some girls were, but not Buffy. It was so unlike her.
But none of this was right.
Dawn had never been told the actual details of what had been going on, every one thought she was just too young to handle it, but she had managed to learn through less then honest means the gist of the story. She figured she had the right, and if she had to eavesdrop to find the truth, well then she wasn't above it.
Not that she didn't feel bad about that, but she couldn't help it.
And Dawn was learning the hard way that sometimes knowing was worse then not knowing. Mainly because there was nothing she could do. Nothing anyone could do. Not Buffy, not her mom, no one. And it all just seemed to get worse and worse each day.
Giles had insurance on the magic shop, so at least he got something out of all this wreck, but money wasn't important. It was nice and it bought you things, but it couldn't give you piece of mind. Not in this situation. All he did read books and take notes. He was growing obsessed with Constance's past, positive something there would undo do it.
Willow was worse because she blamed herself. Solely blamed herself. She figured since she had lifted the curse she'd pretty much just let Constance back in. Every day she just seemed less and less like the Willow she'd become, confident and assured, and more like the Willow she was, shy and hesitant. Not even Tara could talk her out of it.
And Buffy was fanatical. She'd been over the town about a hundred times, looking for anything. Anything. But it was always the same. And every night she cried. Just cried because there was nothing else to do. Dawn was never sure if Buffy was awake or not when she cried, she'd never gotten the nerve to go and check on her, but she was pretty sure she was. A few times their mom had gone in, but Dawn never heard a word about it from either of them. Buffy mostly wanted to be like she felt, alone.
Dawn didn't think much about she felt herself. She just couldn't. Even skirting the issue now made her stomach knot. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. And it seemed like it would never end.
Dawn realized that's what worried her the most as silent tears began to slip down her face. That was the knot in her stomach. The fear she didn't want to face. That thought alone.
What if it never does?
****
Willow sat at her desk and tried to concentrate on the book in front of her. She needed to finish this chapter in order to be prepared for her test tomorrow, but part of her just felt like it was a waste. Why should she even bother anymore? She felt guilty still being in college considering everything going on. But Tara and Giles had pushed her to continue, and she'd agreed more or less. Buffy had had no opinion on the matter, but hadn't gone herself in weeks.
Rubbing her eyes as she checked the clock, nearly 3am, she turned page to the last page she had left when she heard it.
It almost sounded like a whisper.
At first, convinced it was only her cat, she ignored it, till words more into her pages, she heard it again.
Louder and most definitely calling her name.
"Willow..."
Turning her chair to look behind her, she called out but received no answer. Before she could turn back to her book, it was back.
"Willow... come here Willow."
Unable to stop herself from following the voice, a voice she knew but couldn't place, she got up. Unexplainably she followed it. It grew louder as she wandered through her apartment. Louder and more familiar. Almost masculine, but not quite.
Soon she found where the voice had led her too, the mirror above the bathroom sink.
Willow stared at her own image in front of her, aware and not aware of what was really happening.
"Willow... I have called you to show you something."
Suddenly she knew the voice. The monotone voice she'd heard only weeks ago. It was Alecto, one of the three Furies. The one who had begun to warn her against lifting the curse. Willow continued to look straight ahead and saw Alecto appear just behind her left shoulder in the mirror.
"I have warned you that your actions could have dire consequences. I have warned you that not all ends can be seen, but you insisted. You chose. And now your fate has been cast."
Willow found that she was gripping the sink hard now, trying not to be afraid, but very much so despite herself.
"We Furies are not the only three. We are not the only deciders of this world. There are others."
As she said this Alecto's image began to fade, and in her place came another. A woman not unpleasant to look at, rather plain, but inspired equal fear in Willow. She was not terrible like the Furies, but she felt as if she was wise and powerful.
"I am Lachesis. My sisters and I are the weavers of fate. My youngest spins the thread and my eldest cuts it. I decide what it is to become. All fates are important. All fates are precious. I carefully pick and choose the ends, but not how they are achieved. We are at a crossroads Willow, you and I."
Willow had a bad feeling about this.
"There are three paths before you. One you must choose. I can not tell you with perfect clarity what lies at the end of each path, but I can acquaint you with some of the aftermath."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Perhaps I should start further back. Let us start with the number three. Three is an important number. There are three fates, three furies, and three choices for you to make. Your friend, the slayer and the evil make three. Their fates are now entangled. Now, if something happens to one it happens to all. Do you understand as much?"
Willow did understand. As Lachesis spoke to her she had a clear picture in her head of three threads woven into one.
"To undo the damage, to un-ensnare their fates, one alone must be removed."
Willow now saw, with perfect clarity, in her minds eye one thread coming out of the woven three, disappearing from view, leaving the other two intact.
"So how do we get rid of Constance?" Willow asked abruptly.
Lachesis looked sternly at her.
"That is not for me to say."
"But..."
"You have three paths to choose from. One will destroy them all. One will destroy this world. And one will restore the designated order of things."
"How do I choose? Why me? I don't..."
"You choose because you were the one who created this chaos. You wished the curse lifted and set this in motion and now you must set it right again."
"You're saying that it is my fault..."
"Fate has no fault."
"What is it I'm suppose to do then? You've told me what'll happen, who do any of this?"
"You have three choices, some easier then others."
"What? I'll do what I have to, it's got to be better then doing nothing."
"Nothing will only lead you down the second path."
"Okay, so if we do nothing the world ends. What are my other choices?"
"If you destroy the evil, you will destroy them all."
"So, that's not really a choice either. I just want to know how I set this right?"
Lachesis eyes pierced into hers, cold, hard and calculating.
"To restore the order of things as they were before, you must destroy your friend.
****
Willow's head flew up off her desk with a start.
"Willow, I'm back," Tara called from the front room, "sorry I took so long getting the food. I forgot I didn't have money and... what's wrong?"
Willow looked from Tara to the desk and around the room a few times.
"Are you alright?" Tara asked.
Willow shook her head and looked to the clock.
8:43pm.
"How long..."
"I left about an hour ago," Tara supplied, "did you fall asleep?"
"I don't know...I mean I'm not sure. Maybe. Yes, I think so."
Willow stood up and not quite sure what to do with herself walked towards the bathroom.
"Honey?" she heard Tara call from behind her, but she paid no attention.
Once to the bathroom she found she couldn't go in.
"Maybe you should lie down. You've been really stressed..."
"No, no. I'm okay," Willow said half-heartidly. "I just needed..."
Willow stopped talking and stepped inside, turning on the light and looking to the mirror.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Tara asked, deeply concerned.
"When did that happen?"
"What sweetie?" Tara asked, confused by her whole attitude.
"The mirror."
Tara looked up and saw what she was talking about.
"I don't know. It wasn't like that this morning."
"That's what I was afraid of," Willow said as she stared into at herself, split by the cracked mirror before her.
****
Author's Notes: I am so sorry this story is taking so long to write. It's not just life getting in the way here, but the story itself. Most times when I write I don't know where I'm heading and it's kind of fun to find out. This one has stalled for awhile, but I'm fairly confident it's now back in swing. Please read and review. Forgive me my spelling and grammar errors MS Word only does so much.
All the things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams. Elias Canetti
Chapter 11: The Dreamers
Xander wandered aimlessly around his cell. It had been three weeks. Well, he couldn't b be entirely certain but it had been three weeks since he had began to count the days. There was no telling really how long he'd been here. He wasn't even sure he was really counting 'days'. He had no clock, no light and little food or water. There was nothing he knew for certain except that he was growing thin and maybe insane.
He hadn't seen Constance since she'd told him what she wanted to do.
Once a day, if it really is just once, someone came to walk him down the hall to use the bathroom. From this he gathered the only information he could about where he was. The bathroom was three doors away from his cell. He was usually given about five minutes, sometimes longer.
From the bathroom things were less muffled. Xander could hear noises he couldn't from his cell. He'd guessed before that his cell might be soundproof, but the bathroom wasn't. From the bathroom he sometimes heard noise, like fog horns. He must be closer to the water, much closer. But that was all he could figure.
The person, sometimes a man but usually a woman, would never speak to him. Xander was beginning to think they couldn't or weren't allowed too. They all appeared to have a dazed look about them. Like they were sleeping with their eyes open. And he never saw the same person twice. Never. Twenty- one trips to the bathroom and he had never seen the same person twice.
Once back in his cell Xander would always find fresh linen and a tray of food and water. It was then he would mark another day off his calendar. Calendar was a bit of a stretch; all he had actually done was scratch 21 marks onto his cot. Still that small act made him feel like he still had some control over his life.
Not that this was actually living. You couldn't call it that. It was just existing. Xander hadn't felt alive in a very long time. Since before Constance, a time that seemed like years before when it was really only months.
After the furies curse had been lifted by Willow he'd felt it again. What it was to live. But that moment had been fleeting. Now it seemed almost impossible to remember.
Xander sat on the floor for no other reason then it was something different then the cot. If he sat on the cot he might fall asleep again.
And sleep was bad. Very bad. When Xander slept he dreamed. Horrible, horrible dreams. Worse then anything he'd ever experienced before mainly because they seemed so real.
He knew, absolutely knew, Constance was somehow behind them. But knowing that didn't make it easier.
The dreams were so vivid, so alive. He woke from them cold and sweaty and constantly trying to reassure himself that they weren't real.
And he knew that too. But knowing that didn't make it easier either.
They weren't real, the dreams weren't real.
At least not yet.
****
She was doing it again.
No one had seen or heard from Xander or Constance in nearly a month and Buffy was starting to crack.
Dawn turned over in her bed, trying to muffle the sounds of her older sister crying in the next room. It was just past two in the morning. She couldn't remember Buffy ever crying this much. Buffy wasn't a crier, some girls were, but not Buffy. It was so unlike her.
But none of this was right.
Dawn had never been told the actual details of what had been going on, every one thought she was just too young to handle it, but she had managed to learn through less then honest means the gist of the story. She figured she had the right, and if she had to eavesdrop to find the truth, well then she wasn't above it.
Not that she didn't feel bad about that, but she couldn't help it.
And Dawn was learning the hard way that sometimes knowing was worse then not knowing. Mainly because there was nothing she could do. Nothing anyone could do. Not Buffy, not her mom, no one. And it all just seemed to get worse and worse each day.
Giles had insurance on the magic shop, so at least he got something out of all this wreck, but money wasn't important. It was nice and it bought you things, but it couldn't give you piece of mind. Not in this situation. All he did read books and take notes. He was growing obsessed with Constance's past, positive something there would undo do it.
Willow was worse because she blamed herself. Solely blamed herself. She figured since she had lifted the curse she'd pretty much just let Constance back in. Every day she just seemed less and less like the Willow she'd become, confident and assured, and more like the Willow she was, shy and hesitant. Not even Tara could talk her out of it.
And Buffy was fanatical. She'd been over the town about a hundred times, looking for anything. Anything. But it was always the same. And every night she cried. Just cried because there was nothing else to do. Dawn was never sure if Buffy was awake or not when she cried, she'd never gotten the nerve to go and check on her, but she was pretty sure she was. A few times their mom had gone in, but Dawn never heard a word about it from either of them. Buffy mostly wanted to be like she felt, alone.
Dawn didn't think much about she felt herself. She just couldn't. Even skirting the issue now made her stomach knot. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. And it seemed like it would never end.
Dawn realized that's what worried her the most as silent tears began to slip down her face. That was the knot in her stomach. The fear she didn't want to face. That thought alone.
What if it never does?
****
Willow sat at her desk and tried to concentrate on the book in front of her. She needed to finish this chapter in order to be prepared for her test tomorrow, but part of her just felt like it was a waste. Why should she even bother anymore? She felt guilty still being in college considering everything going on. But Tara and Giles had pushed her to continue, and she'd agreed more or less. Buffy had had no opinion on the matter, but hadn't gone herself in weeks.
Rubbing her eyes as she checked the clock, nearly 3am, she turned page to the last page she had left when she heard it.
It almost sounded like a whisper.
At first, convinced it was only her cat, she ignored it, till words more into her pages, she heard it again.
Louder and most definitely calling her name.
"Willow..."
Turning her chair to look behind her, she called out but received no answer. Before she could turn back to her book, it was back.
"Willow... come here Willow."
Unable to stop herself from following the voice, a voice she knew but couldn't place, she got up. Unexplainably she followed it. It grew louder as she wandered through her apartment. Louder and more familiar. Almost masculine, but not quite.
Soon she found where the voice had led her too, the mirror above the bathroom sink.
Willow stared at her own image in front of her, aware and not aware of what was really happening.
"Willow... I have called you to show you something."
Suddenly she knew the voice. The monotone voice she'd heard only weeks ago. It was Alecto, one of the three Furies. The one who had begun to warn her against lifting the curse. Willow continued to look straight ahead and saw Alecto appear just behind her left shoulder in the mirror.
"I have warned you that your actions could have dire consequences. I have warned you that not all ends can be seen, but you insisted. You chose. And now your fate has been cast."
Willow found that she was gripping the sink hard now, trying not to be afraid, but very much so despite herself.
"We Furies are not the only three. We are not the only deciders of this world. There are others."
As she said this Alecto's image began to fade, and in her place came another. A woman not unpleasant to look at, rather plain, but inspired equal fear in Willow. She was not terrible like the Furies, but she felt as if she was wise and powerful.
"I am Lachesis. My sisters and I are the weavers of fate. My youngest spins the thread and my eldest cuts it. I decide what it is to become. All fates are important. All fates are precious. I carefully pick and choose the ends, but not how they are achieved. We are at a crossroads Willow, you and I."
Willow had a bad feeling about this.
"There are three paths before you. One you must choose. I can not tell you with perfect clarity what lies at the end of each path, but I can acquaint you with some of the aftermath."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Perhaps I should start further back. Let us start with the number three. Three is an important number. There are three fates, three furies, and three choices for you to make. Your friend, the slayer and the evil make three. Their fates are now entangled. Now, if something happens to one it happens to all. Do you understand as much?"
Willow did understand. As Lachesis spoke to her she had a clear picture in her head of three threads woven into one.
"To undo the damage, to un-ensnare their fates, one alone must be removed."
Willow now saw, with perfect clarity, in her minds eye one thread coming out of the woven three, disappearing from view, leaving the other two intact.
"So how do we get rid of Constance?" Willow asked abruptly.
Lachesis looked sternly at her.
"That is not for me to say."
"But..."
"You have three paths to choose from. One will destroy them all. One will destroy this world. And one will restore the designated order of things."
"How do I choose? Why me? I don't..."
"You choose because you were the one who created this chaos. You wished the curse lifted and set this in motion and now you must set it right again."
"You're saying that it is my fault..."
"Fate has no fault."
"What is it I'm suppose to do then? You've told me what'll happen, who do any of this?"
"You have three choices, some easier then others."
"What? I'll do what I have to, it's got to be better then doing nothing."
"Nothing will only lead you down the second path."
"Okay, so if we do nothing the world ends. What are my other choices?"
"If you destroy the evil, you will destroy them all."
"So, that's not really a choice either. I just want to know how I set this right?"
Lachesis eyes pierced into hers, cold, hard and calculating.
"To restore the order of things as they were before, you must destroy your friend.
****
Willow's head flew up off her desk with a start.
"Willow, I'm back," Tara called from the front room, "sorry I took so long getting the food. I forgot I didn't have money and... what's wrong?"
Willow looked from Tara to the desk and around the room a few times.
"Are you alright?" Tara asked.
Willow shook her head and looked to the clock.
8:43pm.
"How long..."
"I left about an hour ago," Tara supplied, "did you fall asleep?"
"I don't know...I mean I'm not sure. Maybe. Yes, I think so."
Willow stood up and not quite sure what to do with herself walked towards the bathroom.
"Honey?" she heard Tara call from behind her, but she paid no attention.
Once to the bathroom she found she couldn't go in.
"Maybe you should lie down. You've been really stressed..."
"No, no. I'm okay," Willow said half-heartidly. "I just needed..."
Willow stopped talking and stepped inside, turning on the light and looking to the mirror.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Tara asked, deeply concerned.
"When did that happen?"
"What sweetie?" Tara asked, confused by her whole attitude.
"The mirror."
Tara looked up and saw what she was talking about.
"I don't know. It wasn't like that this morning."
"That's what I was afraid of," Willow said as she stared into at herself, split by the cracked mirror before her.
****