Chapter 1
London, England
Willow Rosenberg opened her eyes as she felt someone gently nudging her awake. She looked to her left and saw the beaming face of Dawn Summers. "We there already?" She asked, smiling back at her travel companion.
"Pretty much. Just got the signal to fasten our seatbelts." Dawn replied.
Willow sat herself up from her sleeping position and fastened her seatbelt. The flight from Rome to London had taken far quicker than she had realised. She rubbed her eyes to wipe the remains of sleep from them and looked around the first class section of the plane. One good thing about being a Watcher, she mused, always first class.
Willow looked at Dawn again. She could tell that her young companion was excited and nervous about the next few days. She was being sent to London to sit a final exam, both theory and practical, that would bestow upon her the title of Watcher, should she pass. Willow was confident in Dawn's abilities.
Since she had moved to Rome six months ago, Willow had been helping Buffy with teaching for the new Slayers and the Watchers they would have. She had taught the Watchers some very basic spells and incantations and had been keen to impart her knowledge of meditation techniques as well. But her main teaching discipline was computers and how to access information online, information that could be the difference between life and death for a Slayer and her Watcher. Willow had also been asked to archive the Watchers vast new library, which she had promised she would do at some point, although it seemed there had been objections from traditionalists within the Council. Amazingly, Giles had not been amongst these objectors as he had seen the value of archiving, even at the risk of having to deal with his nemesis, the computer.
Willow was looking forward to seeing Giles again. She hadn't seen him much in the last 18 months and she was happy for the opportunity to spend some time with her friend. He had helped her through the most painful part of her life, the loss of Tara, and she had never really had a chance to properly thank him for that.
Feeling the aircraft land, she looked out of the window to see the grey, drizzly rain that was rapping the window beside her. She looked at what she was wearing, blue jeans and a white t-shirt, along with a small leather jacket, and cursed her decision not to have a sweater at the ready. Dawn, who had bothered to wear a sweater along with her jeans, had already uncoupled her seatbelt and was reaching up to the overhead compartment to fetch her small beauty case. "Gotta look good for Giles and the Council. Might win me some points. What do you think?"
Willow smiled, still slightly sleepy. "If you think it will work, go for it. But I reckon they will be more interested in your smarts than your lip gloss." Willow looked once more out of the window. The first time she had been in England it was after she had tried to end the world in a magic-fuelled, grief stricken rampage. She was taken to England after being stopped and had been helped to overcome her addiction by Ms Harkness and the other witches at the Coven. Giles had been supportive, knowing too well how grief can make even the most rational of minds turn their thoughts to violence, and she had been appreciative. But she couldn't hide the feelings of loss for Tara, feelings she still had, even five years on. She still felt the pain, mostly at night. She had learned to control her pain, but she knew nothing would ever completely heal the wound that Tara's murder had left. Nothing and no one could, not even Kennedy.
Kennedy had been sweet, and wrong. Willow had hoped that if she tried another relationship, she could somehow bury her pain. But for Willow, Kennedy represented nothing but solace, nothing more than a quick fix to dull the ache and fill the void in her soul. Kennedy had considered herself a worthy replacement for Tara, which Willow knew had been her first mistake. Willow knew the relationship was finite, but Kennedy had been determined to hang on. So Willow reluctantly became Kennedy's Watcher, in the hope that maybe she would feel something deeper for her if they spent more time together. But she didn't, and soon the novelty wore off and Kennedy began to see that Willow, in spite of all her efforts, still loved Tara and always would. It caused the inevitable rift in their relationship, which turned bitter in the final weeks before Willow demanded a transfer. Kennedy willingly accepted the transfer and Giles sent Andrew, of all people, to be the new Watcher and Willow moved to Rome to help Buffy. It had been for the best, for both of them, but Willow was sad that it had taken so long and gone so far.
She stood up now, and headed out of the plane. She couldn't wait to see everyone again. Somehow she felt at home here, at peace. She had only ever felt it when she was in England. It had been one of the reasons her training had gone so well. When things looked their worst, Willow imagined herself back in England, and somehow found a serenity there that was non-existent anywhere else.
Rupert Giles waited with nervous anticipation in the Lounge at Heathrow Airport. The flight had been delayed and he had been waiting an hour longer than expected. He wasn't overly anxious but he detested airports in general and Heathrow was no exception. He also despised the fact that whilst he had hoped to greet them in a relaxed manner, the Council had insisted on a professional meeting, and that meant a suit. It wasn't that he despised suits, but he knew that Dawn would be nervous enough without it looking like business right from the off. But the Council had been insistent, and he had relented in order to keep the peace. Deep down though, he knew that it wasn't the late plane or his choice of attire that was worrying him, it was the passengers he was expecting that were the source of his nervousness.
He had placed a great deal of reputation on Dawn. Others in the newly reformed Council of Watchers, namely Roger Wyndham-Price, had seen Giles' time as Watcher as an anomaly, not something to make policy on. But Giles had argued that the students in his care, even Dawn, were as ready to face the tests and become Watchers as any in the Academy. Roger had asked for proof, and for that he gave them Willow, who passed the Council's tests with ease. Roger had been impressed, so much so he had allowed the rest of the Sunnydale survivors to skip grades and take only those classes that dealt with areas of Watcher training that they were unaware of. Andrew had passed and Buffy had been allowed her training role on merit, which merely left Dawn.
She was younger than most of the graduating Watchers, something that others in the Council were keen to point out to him. Giles had, however, re-assured them that she would pass first time. So now his pride, and his reputation within the Council, rested on Dawn Summers.
But Willow also occupied his mind. He knew that she had been in Rome for the last six months after her break-up with Kennedy. From what he had learned from Buffy, the split had been less than amicable but that Willow was in some ways relieved to be out of the relationship. He knew that for the past few years, her trips to England had been more about contemplation and repairing her spirit than actual fun, and he was sure that this time would be no different. He knew the cause of her inner sadness, and for that he had no cure. The cause was still Tara.
He had always liked Tara. Since meeting with Willow she had grown from a shy, insecure girl to a strong, morally centred woman. She had become the embodiment of all that Willow saw as good and right in the world, so much so that when she was murdered Willow had lost all hope. But she had also been a calming figure to Buffy and her friends. She had been the most mature, most sensible of all the young students that had inhabited the ranks of the "Scooby Gang" throughout the years, and had been a shoulder to cry on for most of them at some point. He missed her, and he knew that whether she would admit it or not, Willow missed her too.
Giles looked up and saw the queue of people disperse from Customs and meet and greet and hug their nearest and dearest. He stood up and began to scan the crowd, looking for familiar figures, and soon he found them. He smiled warmly as he caught Willow and Dawn's collective gaze. He walked over to them, hugging them both.
"It's good to see you both." He said with genuine affection in his voice. "I trust the flight was okay?"
"It was fine." Replied Willow. She had missed the over-protective, cautious side to Giles. "The only really scary part was knowing how to spend the time. I mean, too short for a decent movie but too long to play cards. It's a nightmare." Willow's smile beamed and Dawn couldn't help but giggle at her friend.
Giles smirked; it was good to see Willow in such high spirits. "Well, I hate to spoil the momentum but it will be a long journey down to my home so I've arranged a night's stay in a local hotel. That way you can get a good night's sleep before Dawn goes to the Council's HQ and I can take Willow down to my home."
Dawn's face went from over exuberance to worried seriousness in an instant. "What are my chances, Mr Giles, in all seriousness?"
"I would say that if you stand by your training and show your ability to adapt and show your impressive knowledge of demons and the natural aptitude for research you have then the tests should be little more than a formality". Giles smiled at her warmly as he finished his answer. He was confident in her abilities; he just hoped she wouldn't crack under the pressure. "Just be yourself and you will be fine. You have surpassed even my expectations and I'm sure the Council will be more than willing to give you Watcher status at the end of the testing procedure."
Dawn gave him a wary, nervous smile. "So, no pressure then."
"Well, apart from the fact that I've bet an entire month's wages on you in an office pool."
Dawn looked at Giles with a shocked expression, only to find a mischievous smirk emanating from his usually calm face. Dawn launched into a grin that turned quickly into a relaxed laugh. "Well, I hope I get some of the winnings then."
"Oh, I'm sure we can arrange something in the region of a few pence. After all, overheads and expenses of all kinds need to be considered. Not cheap, you know, betting on you."
"So which Hotel, Giles? And don't tell me that the Watchers Council can only afford a flea-bag hotel for us because I may have to consider my position." Willow decided to keep up the friendly banter.
"Don't worry. 5 stars and separate rooms should keep us all happy. I have even insisted on cable, or at the very least satellite, so that you can feel right at home with large remote controls for the television."
---
Wyngarde CastleShe sat at the far side of the room, staring at the door directly in front of her. Between them was a long dining table, the kind that are usually only brought out to feed mass throngs at wedding receptions.
She herself was a slender woman with long, raven-coloured hair and pale skin. The paleness was further amplified by the use of black make-up to highlight her eyes, lips and nails. Her clothing also seemed to come from the gothic style and she gave the impression of someone attempting to look like Morticia Adams, and surpassing her beauty and allure. She was beautiful, and yet something in her hazel eyes seemed to denote wisdom beyond her years. As if the twenty-something woman that sat on the elegantly decorated chair was far older and wiser than her limited years gave her credit for. But her eyes also showed a coldness, as if deep down inside where many would hope to find a flame they would find only ice. The effect had struck both fear and awe and love in her servants in equal measure.
The room itself was lit with candles mounted on the wall with black, gothic holders. The walls themselves were stone but draped with elaborate tapestries depicting violent struggles through the ages. All of them seemed to depict women, in one way or another, enslaving men. From medieval knights to Napoleonic soldiers to men in WWII uniforms and men in modern attire, their deaths looked both cruel yet strangely sensual. It was as if, like some Praying Mantis, the women had used the men for sexual pleasure before their agonising deaths.
A breeze blew in from the window which, although it was daylight outside, had a curtain draped across it. The breeze met with the flames of the many candles around the room and although each danced with the wind like some mindless jig to an inaudible tune, the flames did not go out. They seemed to lift and turn as if deliberately dodging the current of the breeze, mocking it as it flew past, before returning to the wick of the candle.
Footsteps approached the heavy wooden door to which the woman had sat herself in front of. The steps were hurried and nervous, and the woman could sense that bad news was travelling towards her room. She smiled, a thin and evil smile that could have chilled to the bone anyone who had looked upon it. Medusa herself could not have, in that moment, frozen anyone in her gaze as she could have with her smile.
The door opened and a young lady walked in. Behind her two large men, wearing dinner suits and carrying sabres, flanked her and entered.
"Well, did you get what you were sent for?" Asked the woman, who could see and feel the answer before she had even asked the question.
Margaret faltered, unable to look directly at the lady in front of her. "We were partially successful, Lady Morgan. We found some of the family archives and treaties on Avalon but we were unable to locate the journal. It was not in the house."
Morgan Le Fey rose to her feet and crossed the floor without seeming to touch the ground. "And so you kill both him and his witch wife and I have nothing to show for it. You have failed me Margaret."
"No, your Highness. The boy is still alive. He has been asked to contact Rupert Giles. Something about a clue as to how we find the journal has been left in the library. Our insiders at the Council could keep a watch and when the time is right we can retrieve the journal. However, he did tell the boy to ask for Giles to seek the entwined, My Lady".
"He spoke of the Entwined? And you let the boy live? The Entwined must not be allowed to interfere with all of this. I have waited centuries for the signs to be right, I will not allow the fumblings of a few old men, who have no concept of what they are doing, stop my acquisition of power."
"But the boy has had no chance to speak to him yet, My Lady. As far as I am aware, they have yet to contact Rupert Giles to even ask him to look at the boy." Margaret's breathing was erratic and she struggled to maintain some sort of calm amidst the rising terror in her soul.
"Where is the boy now? Tell our insiders to stop the boy from talking to Rupert Giles. If they fail, then I will hold you personally responsible, Margaret. Now leave me, but these two charming men can stay. I have needs that require fulfilling and these men seem up to the task." The smile seemed playful, flirtatious and her voice had a sensual, lustful quality about it that suggested to the men that something more pleasurable than their usual chores was on the horizon. Both men's smiles beamed in willingness.
---
It was eleven o'clock at night and Giles was finding it difficult to sleep. He couldn't put his finger on why, other than nervousness about the tests the following day. He looked at the clock and turned away in frustration. He was tempted to phone for some sort of sleeping tablet or glass of warm milk, if not something stronger, if it weren't for his determination to be awake fresh and early for Dawn's meeting with the Council.
He had done this so often with the others, why was he so nervous about Dawn. Was it her age? Was it that so much of his reputation was staked upon the outcome? Or was it, as he suspected, merely the realisation that one more of his "family" had grown up and was about to fly the nest?
He pondered that last thought, and accepted the very real possibility that he was getting old. He had been proud to see Buffy grow up and show her worth and the others too but with Dawn it was the final time. After this he really was going to be the one they only visited on occasion. He was worried they wouldn't need him anymore. Giles shook his head in frustration of his selfishness. He was proud of Dawn, and of all of them.
Then perhaps it was Willow. In spite of her good nature, he had noticed a weariness in her that he had hoped was merely travel fatigue but now doubted that it was. He hoped that in the next few days she would confide in him what was wrong and they might find some way of helping her cope, even if it was only a shoulder to cry on.
Giles could feel his eyelids shut with tiredness. Thank you, he thought to himself as he thanked whatever benevolent spirit had let him rest. It was just as he was falling asleep that he heard the phone beside him ring.
At first he wanted to ignore it, to curse the hotel people for even trying to ring him at such an ungodly hour but his senses woke him again and he wondered if the same spirit he had thought benevolent a moment ago was in fact a trickster. He cursed under his breath and picked up the receiver, ready to scream abuse at the person responsible.
"Hello, Rupert? Are you awake?"
Giles stared blankly into the void for a moment, allowing his mind to fully digest the ludicrous nature of the question. "Not at all. I had to get up to answer the phone. Who is this?"
"Sorry, Rupert. It's Roger Wyndham-Price. I'm in the lobby. We need to talk. Right now!"
Giles sensed the authoritative urgency in his voice. "I'll be down in five minutes."
"No. What we need to discuss is too important to have anyone else overhearing. I'm coming up."
"Very well." Giles shook his head and wiped what sleep remained in his eyes away as he quickly got dressed. He hoped that this was nothing to do with the test but was sure that if there had been a problem there he would have been informed long before now.
Five minutes later Roger Wyndham-Price entered Giles' room. He was a short man, old and stern faced. Giles had often wondered how such a serious and studious man as Roger could have had a son as different as Wesley, but Giles had convinced himself that Wesley was more from his Mother's side. But even Giles had noticed a change in Roger's demeanour whenever the subject of Wesley, and his untimely death, came up. In the end, Wesley had shown himself to be quite the efficient Watcher and demon hunter, something that Roger was quietly proud of.
"What has got you so worried that you need to see me at eleven o' clock at night, Roger? Couldn't this have waited until morning? Is the test still on? Is there a delay?"
"The test will proceed as planned, Rupert. I for one am looking forward to seeing your young protégé in action. No, we have a serious situation. Joseph Merrick and his wife were killed today in an attack on their home."
"My God! What happened?" Giles' senses buried all sleep and sarcasm as his professional nature over-rode all other thought processes.
"From what we have gathered after talking to members of his staff, there were three assailants, one woman, two men. They blew up the house, possibly using magic, nearly killing everyone inside and attempted to raid his private library. The woman seemed to be quite adept in the use of dark magic whilst the men were able to use their swords with superhuman speed and strength. The woman, Margaret is her name according to the witnesses, shot and killed Michelle Merrick after Michelle had killed one of the intruders. Joseph, who was attempting to defend himself and reach his wife and son, killed the other swordsman. The woman and the other swordsman then vanished, some sort of teleportation spell or invisibility charm."
"I see. What are the Council doing about it?"
"That's where you come in. Joseph's butler, Whittaker, is our main witness and according to him Merrick spoke to his son, David, before he died. We don't know what was said and when we asked the boy he told us his message was for you and you only. We've been trying to contact you ever since then."
"I am on the phone you know. Plus I left my details of where I would be this evening with the Secretary." Giles could see from Roger's expression that this was neither the time nor the place for discussions about phone etiquette. "I'm sorry, it's the tiredness talking. Where is the boy and this Whittaker now?"
"They are being looked after in our private hospital. Seems Margaret made a specific threat to go after Merrick's friends and family so we have the boy safely hidden away. We need you to talk to the boy as soon as possible."
Giles looked at the old man. "Friends? Does Caine know?"
"Not that I'm aware of. Certainly the Council hasn't informed him but we can't keep it out of the newspapers and television news for much longer. He will find out, sooner or later."
"He could prove a costly liability. Especially after last time."
"We have to hope that in this instance he will see reason."
"I hope you are right." Giles was less than pleased that the disgraced former Watcher should be allowed near such a delicate situation, but he also knew that Caine and the Merricks were old friends. He had to hope that reason, not passion, would keep Caine in line. But he knew that he was the last one to advise such a strategy. He had been known to put his friends, and his Slayer, ahead of Council orders.
Roger's face became even sterner looking, if such a thing were possible. "Rupert, you know what this means if they went specifically for Merrick's private library. What if it's true?"
"We have never been able to prove or disprove the legend. This attack may be coincidence but if it is related to Joseph's theory about the Arthur legend then we need those documents."
"We have a team at what is left of his house now, trying to find any evidence but it seems they wiped it out completely. I suggest, Rupert, that whilst Miss Summers is involved in her examination, you and Miss Rosenberg meet with Whittaker and David. Willow's knowledge of darker forces may prove useful."
"I don't like getting Willow near any dark power. Even after so long it still shakes her."
"I understand your reservations, Rupert, but we have no real alternative. We will have enough on our plate with the Coven when they find out one of their own has died, especially her mother, without asking them to help investigate as well. If there is any truth at all to Merrick's speculations, then time is too much against us to bring in anyone else. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we must put Miss Rosenberg back on active duty."
"Very well. I'll speak to them both tomorrow morning but I want your word that you will look for someone to replace Willow as quickly as possible."
"I will. I promise."
---
It was the twilight hour of dusk and she sat in the gazebo at the end of the large garden that embraced the mansion where she lived. It was cool, and she had wrapped herself in the cloak of her order, the hood over her head to keep out the light mist of rain that seemed to fall here every evening. She could feel the slight chill on her skin but she paid no heed to it. She could feel a greater chill within – a chill that had consumed her since her arrival.
She wasn't sure how long it had been since she had first arrived, but she was sure it was years. The time here seemed to have no meaning and she had rarely kept track. But every week, as much as she was able to gauge it as a week, she had felt compelled by a single emotion to come out here to the gazebo – that emotion was unremitting sadness. It was a moroseness that ate away at her and made her feel at once claustrophobic whilst she was indoors and lost and alone in a place full of people. For some reason she had always found peace from the cold in the gazebo. The shade from the trees above gave some protection from the elements but not much. But although she was less afraid in the gazebo, it did not stop the burning pain in her soul. She felt lost, alone and moreover, she felt grief.
From the vantage point in the first floor window, the two women watched over the young woman in the gazebo. One was older, perhaps in her early fifties, and had long black hair that showed small tints of grey around the roots. The other was much younger, with far longer, blonde curls. Both wore what appeared to be ceremonial robes, medieval in design and cloaks, similar to the ones worn by the lady in the gazebo.
"And you say she has done this at the same time every week, Diana?" Asked the older woman as she continued to look out onto the gazebo.
"Yes, Lady Nimue. She is silent, she never runs out screaming but walks to the gazebo with a silent tear in her eye. I have observed her now for two months and the pattern has remained unchanged. She is often sombre, but at this time she cannot seem to contain her inner pain."
"Does Heather know? The two of them seem so close."
"I'm not sure, but if she does she has said nothing to the rest of us. She is only a child, perhaps she does not understand."
Nimue smiled. "Perhaps you are right. Has our new guest arrived?"
"She has, My Lady. She is confused, as we all are when we arrive."
"Go to her. See that she is ready for supper. I will speak to her tomorrow morning and explain what has happened. Meantime I think I will have a talk with our twilight gardener."
"Very good, My Lady." The young girl left, departing reverentially before hurrying down the hall.
Nimue turned and walked down the stairs and down a small corridor that led to a back door and the garden. She crossed the immaculate lawn without making a sound, as if gliding to her target. She walked up the three small steps that led into the gazebo and for the first time, made a deliberate sound.
The young woman was startled, and moved a few feet away from the entrance. Small strands of blonde hair could be seen dangling out of the hood she continued to wear. She had been sobbing, small spots on her dress proof of where the tears had fallen.
"I am sorry to disturb you, my child, but Diana has become worried about your weekly sojourns here, and so am I." Nimue's voice was calm and soothing, within the voice was the tone of genuine concern.
"I am sorry, Lady Nimue. But I can't seem to stop the tears when I am here. I come here, every week, it would seem, at the same time without fail. I'd love to say it is just the dusk but sometimes it is already dark and I still cannot help but come here. I feel safe here yet I don't know why."
The young girl began to sob again, and Nimue placed her hand on her shoulder. "It seems you have been doing this for several months now, perhaps even years. I wish I knew what was causing it, I really do. When you came here, like us all you had no memory of your life before your arrival. Memories can only cause us to lose our concentration and much depends on our being focused. But maybe, in some part of your mind, there is a little part of you that still remembers. It is all I can think of. Perhaps if we prepared a ritual, we could banish these feelings and you could be at peace."
"Something tells me that it will take more than magic to cure my pain. I think only answers can."
"Then we will find those answers. I promise you. Now you really ought to get inside. You know how upset Heather is without you there. The child has become rather attached to you."
"She's a sweet child. She can be tiresome at times but it's not her fault. I don't mind looking after her."
"I'm glad to hear it." Nimue's smile beamed to the young woman, who did her best to smile back. Nimue rose and began to make her way from the gazebo to the house. She turned and noticed that she was not being followed. "You really ought to come in."
"I will, My Lady. I just need a few moments to compose myself."
"Very well." Nimue took a few steps and then turned back again. "Tara, we will find the answers, but I am worried that you may not like them, or the questions they raise."
Tara Maclay nodded. "Maybe. But if it can help me to understand why I feel this way, then the answers will be worth it." She watched Nimue nod and then walk away. Tara sat back down; listening to the breeze as it gently swayed the branches of the Willow tree that hung overhead. She wiped her eyes dry, composed herself, and left the gazebo for the back door of the mansion.
END OF CHAPTER