TITLE: Convergence Pt 6: The Meeting.
RATING: PG-13.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these guys, Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, and Fox Corp do. I am just borrowing them for pleasure.
SUMMARY: The Power begins its gathering, Giles and Willow tell Buffy about the Prophecy, Spike and Buffy have a moment, in front of them, Xander and Dawn discuss Willow and her new found keyness, Giles and Willow see an old friend.
FEEDBACK: Absolutely, heck yeah! Feel free. I have been getting good stuff so far. But remember, you guys tell me what you want to see happen, and I'll see what I can do. I aim to please, ya know.
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THE MEETING
The woods outside Sunnydale were filled with quiet, desperate whispers. The rustle of the leaves in the wind masked all but the most succinct words. In the clearing, deep into the woods people's voices could be heard. Filled with a tension that could only be caused by teenage desire and sexual frustration, one of those voices was pleading.
"Please, Heather, you know I love you can't we do this just this once?" the sound of soft kissing took the place of the voice. Eventually a softer, more relaxed voice spoke.
"No Chris. I promised my folks that I'd be home shortly. Besides, I already granted you one request. Who knew it would be so nice for me too?" She kissed him again, "But now we really have to go. We've been out later than I wanted to be really." Neither noticed the growing whispers in the trees.
Slowly, she made moves to get up, but as she did so, Chris became increasingly desperate. His pleading voice rose continuously, as he begged her to stay and finish what they had started. The whispering in the leaves grew louder, seeming to feed off of Chris' desperation, and as the volume of the whisper grew, so did Chris' violent efforts to keep Heather captive in the forest. The fevered frenzy of the whispering turned chanting and the black violence of Chris and Heather's struggles culminated in a resounding clap.
"What is wrong with you, Chris??! Let me up!" Heather yelled after she slapped him. Her handprint marked a vicious red patch on his pale cheek and he snapped out of his frenzy, as if waking from hypnosis. He calmed down, once more.
"Fine. You go on home, Heather, I'll hang out here for a while." Heather sensed a presence in the woods that had nothing to do with the two of them, and Chris' new, almost cold demeanor frightened her. He sat back away from her, allowing her to rise and leave. She ran quickly from the clearing, through the quieting woods. She never noticed the thousand eyes watching her departure.
Chris shook his head cautiously, curiously looking about the wooded fringe of the clearing. He silently wondered where Heather went and why his face was stinging so badly. Then he heard the whispers. He jerked his head from side to side, trying to locate the source within the clearing. "Hello?" he called into the darkness. "Is anyone there? Heather?" He searched the woods now, for the source of the whispers, as the hackles on his neck stood on end. "Look. I know someone is there, stop messin around!" He called into the woods, fearfully.
Suddenly, he was lifted into the air and tossed through the clearing to the other side. He landed with a hard thud at the base of one of the larger trees on the edge of the clearing. He shook his head groggily and looked into the clearing. What he saw scared him frozen and white in place. In the clearing a marbled fog of black, green, blue and white mist gathered and churned, rotating on itself like a storm cloud. In his mind, the whispers united and sent him a message:
"These woods are ours now, No one comes but the chosen and key. We will wait, gather for the convergence, but no one must come but the chosen and key."
Realizing that he was neither chosen, nor the key, Chris rose unsteadily and ran back through the woods, into town. The swirling mass of colors continued slowly to gather, pulling energy and power from the heart of the woods. Its whispering quieted to no more than the rustle of a gentle breeze, but the words could be distinguished if one was quiet and paid enough attention: "No one comes but the chosen and key."
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Buffy, Spike, Giles and Willow sat in the living room, tense and near exhaustion. As Giles and Willow filled Buffy in on what brought them across the pond, Buffy sat in resolute silence. As they finished the exposition, she began to show signs of boredom, at one point even going so far as to yawn. Spike, however, listened acutely to the part of the prophecy concerning who they assumed to be him.
"What?" he asked upon hearing that he would be the one to kill her, "You mean this damn prophecy says I'll kill Buffy? Not bleedin' likely, ya know." He openly scoffed as he rose to pace the length of the room. "I'm not going to hurt her again," he slashed his hands through the air, "I don't care what any soddin' prophecy says. It's not going to happen." He walked over to where she was sitting and knelt in front of her, placing his trembling hands on her knees. "Buffy, I never want to hurt you again. Even if it means dustin' myself, I won't do that to you."
His blue eyes searched her hazel ones for recognition of the truth. "I have kept my distance for as long as possible, knowing you needed space and all that. I don't expect you to love me, but I want you to be able to trust me again. To know that I'll never hurt you, ever again." He pleaded silently with those blue eyes.
Buffy – to the shock of both Giles and Willow – placed her hands on either side of his beautifully defined face and smiled her acceptance of his word. "I trust you, Spike. I always have, with my life and with Dawn's. I believe you won't try to kill me. But I don't believe you won't hurt me again. I think you may hurt me worse than you think you already have." She leaned forward to kiss him lightly on the forehead. Then she laughingly said, "Besides, the next time you ever try to kill me, I'll stake your formerly bleach blond butt, blue eyes." Her freely given jest confused Spike, as she was not one for joking with him in front of her friends. He noticed that Giles and Willow were reacting in much the same way: incredulous. He shrugged.
Buffy looked back at Willow, keeping a staying hand on Spike's as he made to rise. Sensing her need for closeness, though not understanding why she would need, or want, his proximity, he stayed.
"Willow," Buffy started, "what you are saying, basically is that I have to handle another apocalypse. I mean, I can do that. I am apocalypse girl, right?"
"Well," Giles began to answer her, "not exactly. The prophecies of apocalypse usually have some specific reference to raising hell, as it were." He frowned slightly. "Had you been better disciplined in research, you might have known that. I swear, my failings as your watcher grow more and more obvious everyday. Your willfulness, disobedience, lack of discipline… Why, they speak vol-"
"Giles!" both girls interrupt the watcher's tirade. "Topic, sir. I do believe there was one already on the table?" this from Willow.
"I know my failings; you don't have to list them for me. But it seems to me that I have outlived all the other Slayers, except Faith, but she is in jail. And as far as I am concerned, you only failed me as a watcher once – but we won't discuss the Council's wretched tests ever again, I thought we all agreed?" Buffy stated pointedly.
"Right," He said, removing and cleaning his glasses. "Right, you are. Anyway," he put his glasses back on. "This prophecy makes no mention of the destruction of the world, simply that the boundaries fall and a new world order emerges. I don't think this is an apocalyptic prophecy, not yet anyway. It seems to be focused solely on you."
"Ugh, how convenient." Buffy rolled her eyes in disgust. "You know, you'd figure that who or what ever chose me would let me just do my thing. But no. not gonna happen. How fickle."
The four of them continued to discuss the current transcripts of the prophecy, with Giles pointedly mentioning that the translation could be botched somehow, and that a more accurate translation would require assistance and the original scrolls. He told them he was working on how to get the scrolls to Sunnydale for better access to the true prophecy. Buffy also told them about Dylan and his quasi attack on Dawn just before they arrived. She didn't mention the bit about the Convergence, thinking it had no relevance to the prophecy. Giles said he would look up her mysterious guest and find out what he was up to.
During the course of the discussion, Buffy occasionally caught Willow staring at the stairs where Xander had ascended earlier to console Dawn. She knew her friend missed him and wanted to be with him, but she also knew that it was impossible so long as Xander was with Dawn. She tightened her fingers around Spike's hand, giving silent thanks that she wasn't in Willow's place. He returned the reassuring squeeze. At the same time she was really curious as to why Xander had become so protective towards Dawn lately.
Xander had always acted like a concerned older brother to Dawn, caring about who she hung out with, and how she was doing in school, but lately, he had been spending so much time with her, picking her up from school, hanging with her at the house, watching movies late on the weekends. Buffy wondered if maybe she should talk with him.
"Buffy?" Giles' voice jerked her back into the discussion. "Where have you been? I've called you twice now."
"Uhh, no where – just thinking."
At the doubtful looks all three gave her, she stammered, "Well, I do have a brain I occasionally use. What? A girl can't drift off in the middle of a discussion?"
Willow nodded. "Sure, she can, when its curtains and soap operas that are being discussed! Buffy, this is a discussion about your life. It's kinda rude to drift off when we're trying to figure out how to stop the prophecy." She cocked her head to the side, "But hey, you're the big bad Slayer girl. You do whatever your want."
Giles gestured for Willow to calm down as Buffy apologized. "Willow, I'm sorry. I've just had a really hectic evening, and my mind is tired. It won't happen again, honest."
Giles spoke up and forestalled any reply Willow might have made. "Willow, Buffy's right. It is extremely late and she must be exhausted. I know I am and you are as well. Let's finish up this discussion tomorrow, ok?" He rose and signaled Willow to do the same.
"Fine, hopefully by tomorrow, we'll all be in better moods. I'm sorry I snapped, Buffy." Willow said, with exhaustion.
Buffy smiled and stood to embrace her. "No problem. I love you, girl, and you should feel free to yell at me anytime you see fit. But for now, we all need some rest."
Spike watched the three from his spot on the floor next to Buffy's chair. He knew he could never be a part of her life like the these people, no matter how much he may love her. He watched her embrace Willow, then Giles, to say goodnight. He shook his head in sadness and made his way over to Willow and Giles. "Red. G'night. And again, sorry bout your losses." He said as he hugged her good bye. He then turned to Giles. "Watcher," he said and extended his hand. Giles frowned in confusion then cautiously took the proffered hand. "I want to say thanks for letting me shack up with you for that time, and for allowing me to help you guys last summer. I know you don't like me, never have, and I know that trusting me took a huge leap. I just wanna say thanks."
Giles continued to frown. He had never seen the blonde vamp so ….well….conciliatory. he wondered what was goin on. Then he noticed Willow's small smile and figured he would be getting answers later. "Absolutely, Spike. No problem at all." He stated quietly. He and Willow made their way out to the rental car, presumably to look for a place to stay. Buffy watched them drive away down the block, then turned curious eyes to Spike. "What was that all about?" she asked him.
"Nothin, I just realized I owed the man some gratitude. I ain't above givin' it when it's due. You should know that by now." Spike then turned to the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be headin' back to the crypt. Or what's left of it after Clem." He opened the door and jumped off the porch. "See ya 'round, Slayer," he called as he ran into the darkness, leaving Buffy to wonder at his new attitude.
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Xander sat on the edge of Dawn's bed, looking at her back as she sat at the desk across the room. He had watched her climb the stairs in hurt anger, and he simply wanted to comfort her. He had knocked softly on her bedroom door when he got up stairs and heard a small muffled, "come in." Opening the door, he saw her petite form bent over her desk, her head resting on her folded arms so that her pixie face was hidden. He sat down on the edge of the bed and waited for the right words to come.
How to tackle this issue, he thought to himself. She is so young and Willow hurt her so much, how am I going to make any headway? He shook his head at the question.
"Xander?" Dawn's voice, soaked in unshed tears, caught his attention. "Do you think I'm being stupid?" she asked him.
"How do you mean, Dawnie?"
"Well, Giles, Buffy, and you have forgiven her, even accepted her back into your lives. Am I being stupid for not?"
"Dawn," he dropped the pet name everyone called her, "you feel like you've been dealt the most hurt by Willow. You stated your case quite convincingly down stairs. Giles, I think, was impressed. I know I was," he smiled. "So, you are the only one who can tell when it's right for you to accept her back into your life. I do think, though, that for your own …I don't know….benefit? you might want to try forgiving her." He bent his head to the side and looked for her reaction.
She lifted her head from her arms to look at him. "Forgive her?" she asked quietly. "Good for me? I'm not really following how that works, Xander."
He smiled at her confusion. "Well, it's like this, and believe me, I speak from experience." He patted the bed for her to come lay dawn. She stood and walked over, then lay down, her head on the pillows, looking up at him and listening. He continued, "Forgiveness, while seeming to be for others, is actually for us. We don't forgive others to make them feel better about what they did; we do it so we can get past it. 'It' being the hurt, the anger, and the fear. It doesn't mean that we ever have to let those people back into our lives, we just let go of all those bad feelings. You understand?"
He knew it was so odd for him to be giving this explanation, considering his life over the last two years, and how dreadfully he treated both Spike and Buffy. Spike for circumstances beyond his control, for he knew Spike couldn't help being who – or what – he was, and knew he had nothing to do with his own turning. He realized he acted horribly to Anya and Buffy both about their dealings with Spike. But he felt that, over the course of the summer, he had finally figured out the right way to behave about it. While he may never accept the actions of the three of them, he could forgive, accept the reasons for it, and get past it. He realized everything gets to a point where it really doesn't matter a whole hell of a lot.
Dawn watched the play of emotions cross Xander's face, and nodded that she understood what he was trying to say. "Good," he said. "Do you think you can forgive Willow for what she did?" Again, she nodded, and he smiled.
"Xander, why did she do those things, though? I mean, I know she was angry about Tara and all that, but how come Willow could do those things? Not everyone gets homicidal at the death of a loved one. Why her?"
"Well, I'm not Willow, so I can't be completely sure, Dawn. Maybe her use and misuse of the magic created a place for dark forces to inhabit her, and while she was not using the magic, they sort of hibernated. Then when Tara died – was shot – all the anger and grief and sadness just opened a new way for those forces to take over again. At least that is how I explain it to myself. I still have nightmares about what I saw her do." At her inquisitive face, he stopped. "I made a promise to your sister that I would never tell you what we saw Willow do. So please don't ask me, ok?"
She nodded once, yet again, then asked him, "So, you mean it wasn't really Willow doing those things, and saying those things to me?"
He frowned in consternation, debating how to answer her. "Well, it was and it wasn't. It was Willow in so much as it was her feelings and thoughts, but had it not been for the added ingredient of those darker forces, she never would have acted on those feelings in the way she did. It's not like she was possessed, more like influenced without any protection against it. If that makes sense."
"It does. I mean, I was really hurt and angry too, and could feel the rage at Warren, but I guess the sensible good part of me wouldn't allow any action on those feelings." She mused.
"Exactly," it was his turn to nod. "How do you feel now? Think you can work on forgiveness?"
"Yeah, I guess so. But I can't let her back in so soon, you know? Forgiveness is one thing, acceptance another." She said firmly.
"Ok, fair enough. So I guess we wont' be going back down stairs?"
"You can if you want. I mean, if you want to find out what's goin on, you don't have to stay up here with me." She pulled her knees up to her chest, curling into a small ball on the bed.
"Nah, I think I'll sit up here with you and let you tell me how it feels to finally have your 'specialness' kick in." he grinned goofily.
"Specialness?" she was confused for a moment. "Oh! You mean my keyness." Dawn smiled broadly and laughed a bit, uncurling from her ball and stretching in feline grace. "It felt so strange Xander, I felt energized like a live circuit being fed electricity; not that I really know what that feels like, but I can suppose it felt like that. Feels like that I mean," her eyes grew even more green with her excitement. "I still feel it flowing through me. It's kinda nice – not at all oogly," at which Xander laughed out loud.
"Well, it really looks good on you," he said lightly then smiled into her green eyes. He blinked slowly as his smile faded, suddenly he realized just exactly how green her eyes were. Twin pools of emerald fire, sparkling like a breeze-ruffled lake in mid-afternoon. He closed his eyes breaking any possible connection, but a picture of her face flashed behind his eyelids. He scooted further back on the bed, resting against the footboard. This is so not good! He thought to himself. She is my best friend's little sister. She's just 17 years old for Pete's sake!! He opened one eye, to look at her and found her still smiling, even if in confusion. Oh god! When did she turn so beautiful? No – it must be that energy she was talking about. It must be influencing me. I mean, I'm still in love with Anya, aren't I?
"Xander? Are you alright?" He heard her voice from far away. Oh man. Even her voice is different. I got to get out of here! He felt her hand on his knee. "Xander? Hey, come on, what is going on? What's the matter?"
He jumped off the bed and hurriedly backtracked toward the door. He saw her slight frown. "Aahhh, Dawn, I'm going to head back down stairs. See what's up with everybody. You gonna be alright?" At her nod, he left the room before she could speak.
"Oh God. Oh God. Oh god. Oh god." He chanted softly as he ran down the steps to the front door. In his blind haste he nearly knocked Buffy over as she started up the stairs.
"Whoa, there Harris. Where's the fire?"
"Huh? Wha-? Nothing. Nowhere. There's a fire?" he looked around frantically. "Where???" he couldn't seem to think straight. "Ah, I need to go, it's late. I'll see you tomorrow Buff." With that cryptic goodbye, he left the house. Buffy shook her head in dazed wonderment.
"Wow. Iss…..ues." Still shaking her head, she went upstairs to see about Dawn. "Dawn? Everything alright?" She asked as she rounded the open threshold of her sister's door. Getting no response, she searched the room and found her sister curled on her side on the bed. She pulled the folded blanket from the foot of the bed, and stretched it out over the sleeping form and smiled.
Her little sister was growing into a striking young woman. Her long dark brown hair had been softened by layers and subtle highlights around her face. It seemed as though her training in the summer afternoon sun had worked wonders on both her skin and her hair. Buffy's smile melted. Great, she thought, now I'll have to deal with boys – again, oh man. She brushed a stray lock of hair away from Dawn's face and saw the tear tracks on her cheeks. Her heart broke for her little sister, and she leaned down to kiss her soft cheek. "'Night Dawnie. Sleep tight." She whispered as she pulled the blanket snug. She then turned to leave, turning off the light as she closed the door. She made her way down the hall to her room and went to bed.
Dawn opened her eyes in the dark after Buffy left. Sighing softly, she wondered just what was wrong with Xander.
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Giles and Willow had driven around Sunnydale for an hour before realizing that no hotels were open at 3am, and if they were, they weren't the type of establishment Giles wanted to be in – particularly with Willow. There would be no end to the speculations. Possible interruption by the police also went through his mind. Willow may be nearly 22 years old but, with no makeup and her hair in a tight ponytail on the top of her head, she didn't look a day over 16. She had long since fallen asleep – yet again – while he searched for a proper place to stay. He happened to drive by the Magic Box on one of his passes through town, and saw the lights on as well as a figure moving about inside. He decided to check it out.
Pulling into the lot across the street, Giles woke Willow and told her to be on the alert, as he was going to do some investigating. She nodded and watched him make his way across to the shop. Deciding not to be left for vampire fodder, she left the car and followed him. He was paused beside the entrance to the store when she touched his arm and scared him nearly out of his skin.
"I thought I told you to wait in the car." He whispered upon recovering his normal heartbeat.
"Yeah right. Fat chance of that. I don't want to be eaten!" she whispered back fiercely.
Just then, the door burst open. "Alright! I know someone is out there! Show yourselves before I call on D'Hoffryn." An astute strong voice announced into the dark.
"Anya?" Gilles questioned. "Is that you?"
"Giles? Oh my God! You – I thought you were a vampire or something." She reached up to embrace him in a solid hug. "What are you doing here?" she asked him.
He returned the hug and said, "It's a long story. Can we come inside?"
She stepped back, "We?" She looked around his side to see Willow standing there. "Oh. Well, Ok." She frowned slightly, seeming to debate whether or not to risk further damage to the interior of the store. "Fine, but no fighting. I have the damage list prepared as well as a cost estimate for repairs. It would bug me to have to revise it and submit another one for the insurance company." She turned accusingly to Giles as they walked into the store, "And why didn't you mention that demons hold the policy on the store?"
Giles lifted his eyebrows. "I can assure you, the Insurance company is all too human."
"Hah! That's what you think. I've known devil's spawn with more compassion and patience than those people, and I use that term loosely." She hopped up and sat on the counter, "So what are you guys doin back in good ole SunnyD?" she looked from one to the other. Seeing their grim faces, her own countenance became less than confident. "Oh no. Buffy didn't die again, did she? I must admit I have been out of touch, but I saw Xander just yesterday and he didn't mention it."
"Ahh, no. Buffy isn't dead," Giles laughed nervously, "Well at least not yet," he mumbled to himself.
"Giles!" Willow whispered.
"What? Is there another apocalypse? Cause to be honest, I can usually sense those things a millennia away, and, while I feel a gathering presence, it isn't strictly malevolent, so I doubt it is another apocalypse." Anya's characteristic confidence returned to her voice.
"No," Giles said, "We know it's not an apocalypse. It's a prophecy. But I have a question to ask you, Anya." He looked to Willow got a slow nod.
"Yeah. What's up?" Anya glanced back and forth between the two of them.
"We were wondering if we could stay with you tonight. We can't seem to find a decent hotel at this hour." Giles told her. "Would that be alright, do you think?"
Anya continued to glance back and forth between them. Sensing the drastic difference in Willow from the previous summer, she acquiesced.
"Sure. No problem. I mean, I only have one spare bedroom, so one of you will have to take the couch. But yeah, you can stay with me." She smiled at Giles, then looked pointedly at Willow. "Provided you tell me what brought you here."
"Absolutely, but perhaps in the morning?" Giles said. "We flew in today from London, and are really quite exhausted."
Anya hopped down from the counter. "Fine. I'll meet you guys at my place. Well, since Xander moved out, anyway. He left me the apartment. That went a long way in my forgiving him. Anyway, I just need to tidy up a bit. See ya in a few." With that, she disappeared.
"Damn that girl and her powers." Giles laughed in appreciation.
"Yeah. No doubt. I can't do that yet, the show-off." Willow shook her head in mock disgust. "Let's just go, Giles. I'm tired and a bed sounds so wonderful."
"Right then, but what makes you think you are getting the bed. I am older you know."
"That may be, but I'm prettier."
"You have me there, I must admit."
They continued their banter as they crossed the street to the car and headed to Anya's place. As they drove passed the woods to Anya's apartment, neither noticed the swirling mass of misty color flickering and growing through the trees.
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