Whatever You Desire Part 2
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Buffy left the house and walked toward where she felt – or what she thought – was Xander. Her Slayer sense now seemed to be attuned to his own unique signature, which was off-putting, but interesting at the same time.
She had steamed and ranted about his final words to the remaining Scoobies until Dawn had really driven a point home: it wasn't him – or her – that was totally to blame. If blame could be laid on anyone, it was all of them, Spike included, even if he wasn't there to 'defend' himself. But to fix what was broken, they would both have to work at it.
Xander had tried, with his revelation, to fix their relationship.
Because neither Buffy nor Willow was prepared to listen, his overtures had failed.
Spectacularly.
Now, Buffy told herself, free from others and allowed to make her own decisions, she was ready to listen.
And listen she would.
She paused; however, as her Slayer sense told her Xander was inside what looked to be a very seedy bar. "Don't tell me he's in there?" Buffy muttered, but headed in anyway.
Her senses were right. He was in the bar. Right at the back, almost hidden.
As Buffy moved through the sea of undesirables to get to Xander's table, the bar quietened down. You could have heard a pin drop.
Xander looked up. He didn't look drunk, but the contents of the table said that he should be. "Hi, Buff. You shouldn't have come in here, though."
"Why not?" Buffy asked. "If you can, why can't I?"
Xander shrugged, and nodded at the bartender. "Because Fred and me have an understanding. Kinda like you had with Willy, but less on the violent side."
"Oh." Buffy sat down, and moved round into the booth so that her back was to the wall, and she was next to Xander. "I came to apologise, you know. When you didn't come back, I thought I'd better go looking for you. In case you kinda... didn't come back."
Xander looked surprised, and then a beaming smile lit his face. "Really?"
Buffy nodded, and then looked down, admitting quietly, "It was really Dawn that got me to come find you."
Xander grinned. "Well, that's OK. As long as one Summers woman has some sense, then all's good."
Buffy slapped his arm. It was only half in jest. "Hey!"
She looked at the table, and shot his a sidelong glance. "Did you drink all this?"
"What, are you expecting me to be drunk?" Xander smiled, "Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. Alcohol doesn't work on me like it would you – even with your... enhanced constitution."
Buffy smirked, plucking the half drunk bottle from Xander's fingers and moving it out of his reach. "I think you've had enough."
Xander shrugged, indifferent to the loss of his drink, "Fine by me."
Both Xander and Buffy looked up as the light was blocked out. A hulk of a man was standing there, flanked by three others. He loomed down at them and growled, "This is my table."
Buffy started to rise, balling a hand into a surreptitious fist. Xander gripped her arm and gently pulled her back into her seat. "Don't worry about it Buff." Addressing the loomer, he said politely, "Sorry, we've got it."
"Does that mean you ain't gonna move?"
Xander nodded. "That's right. There's a table over there if you want one."
One of the hangers on said in a loud voice, "We dunt wont dat one. We wont this one!"
Xander sucked some air between his teeth, as if contemplating the offer. Finally, he shook his head. "Nope. Sorry."
Buffy felt something odd happen, and she looked around to see that everyone in the bar – except her, Xander and the leader of the group – were as still as statues. A perky voice said from behind her, "Hi!"
Buffy turned round to see Death – the female Death; Xander's 'sister' perched on the wooden partition between booths. She was grinning at the impasse Xander and the Not-so-Incredible hulk seemed to have reached.
Xander spoke to her without turning round. "What are you doing here, sis?"
Death shrugged, and smirked unrepentantly. "Well, I was waiting to see if either you or Buffy would kill one another. But you didn't. Spoil my fun?" She pouted at them. "And then you came in here, so I thought I'd better keep an eye on you. When Buffy walked in, I knew I'd better keep an eye on you. And unlike you, Brother, I don't feel inclined toward having one taken out to do so."
The gang leader frowned. "Wot is this?"
Death grinned at him, and hopped off where she was sitting to drape herself over his arm. Her mouth was close to his ear. "I'm here to make sure nothing bad happens to my brother."
"Your bruvver needs his sister's protection? That's good!" He burst out laughing.
"Ah, but most brothers don't have Death as their sister, now do they?" The room seemed to flicker for a second, and the man – who had been looking Death straight in the eyes – shot backwards like a demolition ball had hit him.
"Hhhh.. hhhhuuunn... whh..ooo who the hell?" He struggled for breath, and Death smiled down at him. "Oh, come on, don't be such a big baby!" Reaching out, she hauled him back up to his feet with one hand. "You don't die yet, so save the local doctors some trouble and stop trying to have a heart attack!"
"You're Death? Uh... the Death."
Death shrugged. "Well, not really the. Just a. Although my jurisdiction is here, if that's any help."
"Do... do you know when it happens?"
"When what happens?" Death asked, aware of what he wanted to know, but wanting him to voice it first.
"When... when do I die?" His voice was pleading.
Death patted him on the cheek, and the tough biker looked as if a rattlesnake was petting him. "Oh, isn't that just adorable? Well, you know, I could get into a lot of trouble if I told you. But I guess it can't hurt if I'm vague. You aren't due to visit me..."
Death looked surprised. "Well, actually... you aren't due to visit me. How odd."
"What do you... huh?"
Death looked at him hard. "I don't remember meeting you before... why aren't you on any of my lists? Hm? What have you done?"
"Avatar's tend to be hard to kill, Death of the Endless..." A new voice spoke, and Death looked around.
"I know that voice."
"Indeed, you do. Pray tell me where I am, then."
Death peered at the walls, eyes narrowed. She finally fixed her gaze on one spot. "There."
"Congratulations." A figure coalesced out of the spot on the wall. Xander gripped Buffy's arm before she moved to attack, but she wasn't even tensing up for a pounce. "He is not on your lists because I... removed him. That took much effort, but, I believe it will be worth it in the future."
"Which one?" Xander asked.
"Oh, you've a smart one here, Death. Makes me wonder why he bothered with the charade of humanity at all..."
"If we distance ourselves too much, we lose the aspects we seek to maintain," Xander breathed out slowly, the words like whispers in the air. "If we lose them, we lose ourselves."
The figure clapped; the sound echoing in the still frozen bar. "Excellently put, Duty of the Endless." On Xander's sour look, he smiled and corrected himself. "Oh, my mistake, you prefer Honour now? So be it, Honour... you are one who has his place marked without needing something as mundane as a name..."
"Names give power," Xander replied, "If someone knows your name, they have a power over you. I would rather remain safely... anonymous."
"As is your right, indeed," the figure nodded. "I come to tell you that the time you bought the False Wicca is almost at an end. This has nothing to do with her current... disposition – but it has everything to do with a certain promise you made when on those Bluffs."
Xander nodded. "I was aware that Time is fleeting at best. But..."
"You cannot share time with another. Death – your friend with the scythe and the diet problem has done that once, we shall not allow such a course to occur again, however. It creates unnecessary ripples."
Xander sighed. "Fine. I will deal with it shortly."
"See that you do. Because if you do not, the False Wicca will not be the only one running out of time."
Buffy had remained strangely silent during the exchange. She felt like a small child being allowed to stay up late, and watching the adults having a conversation she could not fathom. Normally, that would have made her angry, causing her to butt in, but it seemed wrong to do it now.
The figure turned to her, "You had a question, Slayer?"
Buffy nodded, almost terrified at now being the centre of attention. "Er... yeah. Who are you?"
"I'm deeply hurt that you do not remember me, Slayer. We have met, after all, four times." The figure smiled.
"We've met before?" Buffy frowned, "when?"
"Let me just say that I am a... Gatekeeper, of sorts. Except when called upon to do other duties. I do hope that you remember me eventually, but I shall leave you with your thoughts for now." He turned and slapped Xander's shoulder gently. "Cheer up, Old Man. You've not done anything wrong."
Xander looked at the man with one eye closed. The other regarded him dubiously. "Y'know, that makes me feel sooo much better. You should get a job as a councillor."
"I think I already have enough on my plate, Duty. It is, after all, my Duty." A strange smile quirked his lips, and he vanished.
Buffy slumped into the bar seat next to Xander. "I really hate it when they do that..."
Death gripping Buffy and Xander's shoulders, before saying quietly, "I think we had best be on our way. None of these – even him," she gestured at the gang leader, "will remember this."
-
Death – that is, the other Death; Tall, Dark and Bony – stalked after Willow. Not that he could have done anything else had he wanted to. There were certain... styles... you had to maintain when you were Death. The stalk rather than simply walking, the bones – although, to be fair, they were optional – and the scythe. The scythe was important. Kings got the Sword, but the common people expected the scythe. That was how he had become known as the 'Reaper of Souls'. Again, to be fair, he didn't really reap. Others did that: usually humans themselves. Death merely picked up the pieces, tidied the room and turned the metaphorical lights out when the party had ended.
Death of the Endless was a slightly different matter: she was Death, but maintained ties to humanity that were normally difficult to balance. Death had once allowed the Death of Rats to survive, and Death had been protected from harm by the existence of her siblings. Death and Dream, arguably, were the two eldest Endless after Destiny, while Desire, Despair, Delirium and Destruction were the middle children. Duty was almost a law unto himself – the Eighth Endless, created less by the minds of humanity as an anthropomorphic entity, and more a creature – an ideal – born purely of its own will to live. In many regards, Duty was formed from each of the Endless themselves: each had their own Duties they could not turn away from. Thus the creation of their Eighth sibling.
And here was this girl – drunk on her own power and self importance – destroying everything that had been so carefully prepared.
Death was not an individual given to cursing unnecessarily, but this was taking the cake.
And the tray.
And the knife, too.
Hell, the whole table.
-
Dream found Desire lounged on a scattering of cushions in a luxuriously appointed apartment. Staring silently for a few moments at Desire, Dream could not help but be disgusted by someone – some thing - that for matters unknown to him, he had to call sibling.
In the silence, Dream had to admit; also, that he wished Desire would stay in one form. "What do you think you are doing? Sister?"
Desire opened her eyes. "Ah, Brother dear... do come here, there's a darling..."
Dream remained where he was, but removed his Helm. "No, I think I shall stay where I am, thank you."
Desire licked her lips invitingly. "Your loss, brother."
Dreams mouth tightened. "You, above all of the Endless, are a creature of the moment, Desire. As such, I shall forget that you said those words."
"Isn't it delicious, what I have wrought?" Desire sat up, diaphanous gown falling open to reveal what a mortal would only consider to be sublime perfection.
"This is your handiwork? I should have known from the start when I smelt you, sister."
"Come now, brother, I bathe every day. More, indeed."
Dream looked aside, struggling to get his anger under control. "Days have no meaning to us."
"And yet they do for mortals, brother dear, who for some reason seem to try to emulate us. Or is it we that emulate them? No matter, the witch has a power than none of the Endless can stop... she has Free Will."
"Duty will make sure that she does not harm any more than she already has, sister."
Desire smiled at Dream, lust burning in her eyes. But Dream could tell one thing: it wasn't lust for any particular thing that was burning – no, this was simply the want of experiences. Slowly, as if talking to a particularly stupid child, Desire spoke, "But my plan is perfect, Brother. Duty cannot interfere without breaking the pact. The pact that we ourselves agreed on, so very long ago..."
Dream's eyes widened, and he shook his head. "You..."
Desire smiled. "Yes, it is beautiful, isn't it? And yet you will find, brother, that as by that pact so long ago, I am as good as my word."
Dream's mouth set itself into a hard line, before he spoke carefully; making sure that he was saying exactly what he wished to, and no more. "'As good as your word,'" Dream almost sneered the phrase, "that doesn't really say that much for you, does it?"
Then he vanished.
Desire shrugged, and turned at the sound of a door being blown into wooden shrapnel. "My Dear Willow, I am so very glad you have arrived at last..."
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End: Whatever You Desire
Now you've read, please review. :)
Points to whomever can spot the paraphrase of the first line of a song. :)