Chapter 5
Avalon
Michelle followed the young lady, whose name she had discovered was Karen, to the graveyard. In her mind's eye she hadn't known what to expect. The immediate vision had been some terrible place of cobwebs and shadows and yet on this day, sunny and clear and warm in the mid morning, she could not imagine a place as awful as her first impression could exist here. And she was not wrong. It was a place that, should she die here, she would wish not only her body to rest, but her spirit too. She did not know if there was a Heaven, but the Elysium Fields oft talked of in Greek myth would have paled in comparison to the hills and meadows she saw in the distance and the well tended cemetery, which seemed more like a beautiful garden as each grave was marked not only with a headstone, but a beautiful bouquet of flowers.
Karen gestured to the top of the path that led to the right of the entranceway where they stood. About halfway along the path, Michelle saw a young woman and small child placing flowers at a grave and tidying the area of leaves. The breeze was stronger here and she could see a few graves remaining where leaves still lay. She looked at the headstones, and saw that whilst some had names upon them, others were blank. Not a name, nor date, nor gender placed. Nothing save a single, solitary, anonymous headstone to mark the place of burial and the flowers that had been placed there. Michelle found this odd and made a mental point to ask about this with the woman up ahead.
Karen smiled at Michelle. "That's Tara up there, with her young charge Heather. I will leave you to get acquainted". Karen turned and left Michelle to walk the small distance to where the two figures were.
As Michelle grew nearer she began to see the features of the two up ahead more clearly. The young woman was in her mid twenties, Michelle guessed. She was of medium height, slender with dark blonde hair. She was quite beautiful, almost in a classical sense. She was dressed in the long dress and cape of the order and she could see, briefly, the tattoo of the dove upon her upper left arm. The child with her was barely ten, with dark hair and wearing the order's dress and cape and seemed to be full of energy. She danced around, kicking piles of leaves around with wild abandon before picking them up and placing them in a large bag, which looked like it was made of canvas.
"Heather, please! We have only a few more to do and I could do with your full attention. You will have plenty of time to play later."
Michelle noticed that the young woman's voice, whilst firm and commanding, was also one that was neither stressed nor angry. It was a calm voice of gentle authority.
The young woman smiled at Michelle as she approached and stood up to greet her. "You must be our new arrival. My name is Tara. This young leaf bully is Heather."
Michelle smiled, thankful for the warm smile and greeting. "I'm Michelle, pleased to meet you. Lady Nimue suggested that I talk to you, that you might allay my fears about this place. Although I doubt much will."
"Well, I will do my best. Right now I'm just clearing the graves of these leaves and making them nice. We have a rota, we all take our turn."
Michelle looked upon the grave that Tara was tending, and saw that, like some of the others, there was no name upon the headstone. "Why do some of the graves have no name on them?"
"Sometimes, natural disasters in the mortal world mean that no body is found. If we can make it happen, we can help rescuers find it. Often though, the body is beyond human help. So we take them here and bury them so that their souls can find some semblance of peace."
"Lady Nimue said that travelling to the mortal world was impossible, so how do you get to the bodies?"
"We don't go, for us it is impossible. Some races of the Fey, from both sides, can and do travel around the mortal world. Some below ground, some amongst mortals themselves."
"Both sides?"
"Yes. There are those Fey that, when we lost our footing on the mortal world, swore to do their best to protect the humans. Those who swore the Oath became known as the Court of Dreams. But there are those Fey who saw the chance to ruin mankind and formed alliances with demons and forces of evil. They became the enemy, the Court of Nightmares. Not exactly the classiest of titles, either of them, I grant you, but it describes them adequately enough."
Tara stood up and started to walk towards the next headstone that required clearing up. Heather followed her, canvas bag in her hand rustling as she began to pick up the leaves from around the grave. She knelt reverentially in front of the grave and removed the flowers from the grave. She muttered a few words and a fresh bouquet of flowers appeared in her hand. She smiled and placed the flowers in the vase in front of the headstone, before pulling away the few weeds and other debris that had surrounded the grave.
"You do that a lot?" asked Michelle, unable to hide the fascination in her voice.
"Its part of the ritual. We tend the dead and respect them. We keep them tended and they will remain at peace."
Heather completed her task of picking up leaves and handed the bag to Tara. "Can I go and play now? I've tidied everything up!" The young girl's smile beamed in pleading.
Tara smirked, her lips upturning on one side in a slanted smile. "Very well! I give in! Have fun!"
Michelle smiled at Tara. "You would think you were sisters, the way she looks up to you. Is she like that with the rest of the Order?"
"No, she only seems to listen to me. When she first came here she had horrendous nightmares and me, sleeping in the next bed, comforted her and now I have pretty much become a parent."
"She seems like a handful."
"She's a child. She can be trying at times but I don't mind too much. She really is a good girl."
"Was she born here?"
"No, came here as we did. I guess that's why I have a soft spot for her. She was so young when she left the mortal world. She never really had a childhood."
As Tara rose from the grave, a bell sounded in the distance. "C'mon, time for dinner. Time does fly when you have someone to talk too."
Westbury, EnglandIt was 8 o' clock in the evening when Giles' car pulled up at his farmhouse. He had been driving for hours in the heavy traffic after the meeting had broken up. The drive had been fairly quiet, apart from the few murmurings of complaints by David that he needed the bathroom or dinner, which Giles had dutifully obliged by stopping at a service station.
But he and the second car following him drove steadily other than that. In his car was himself, Willow, Buffy, David and Whittaker. The second car had Dawn, Alan Carter, Diane Morgan and Claire Danvers, the young woman who had performed the autopsy on the Salnash demon. He was armed with bookworms for the most part, which he preferred. Giles knew that this was going to be more of a book learning event rather than the violence-strewn mayhem as had so often happened in Sunnydale. He hoped that by combining their knowledge, the Watchers might find a way of heading off any potential trouble before the need for violence, although he would not allow himself to rule it out.
He looked at Willow and saw the expression of calm fear in her features. He knew what she was thinking. She was scared of the idea of coming so close to dark magic and being asked to counter it. She had grown in power and control under the Coven's tutelage over the years but she still held that fear that she may one day re-cross that line that had resulted in her nearly taking down the world. Giles worried about it too but he had faith in her, even if she had none for herself.
The cars drew up to Giles' house as the twilight of the dusk descended overhead. Giles scanned the area around his lavish farmhouse that had been home for many years. There was nothing save the odd bird on the wing and the chirping of their families in the branches. He smiled, it was good to be home.
Willow felt weary. She had been playing the day over again in her head and it had left her emotionally exhausted. A lot had happened and she knew it was the tip of the iceberg. She was also worried about Althanea's belief that she would be more needed in the coming struggle than Buffy or any of the Coven.
She looked over at Buffy. She had seen in her the opposite of her own inner turmoil. Buffy had left Sunnydale free from the past. Willow was, in some ways, still consumed by it.
The group converged in the living room and were offered tea. Giles hated stereotypical labels but he did love tea, so it was one he was happy enough to live with. General chat about the day's events was followed by the necessary decision over sleeping arrangements. Giles had dreaded this. He remembered all too well when the Potentials were in Buffy's home. He was glad that the numbers here were quite small in comparison and that everyone would at least have a bed to themselves, or maybe share a double bed.
Giles set up the rooms. He would share his room with Alan Carter. Buffy would be placed in the room with David and Whittaker to keep an eye on them should an attack happen through the night. Willow and Dawn would be placed in a third room and the fourth room would be made up for Diane and Claire.
Buffy and Willow wandered into the kitchen. The house was a place they both knew well, but for different reasons. For Buffy it was a place where she celebrated her semi-retirement, a place that brought home happy memories. But for Willow it was a place that forever reminded her of her rehabilitation, and that always made her sad.
"You look stressed, Will. What's up?" Buffy sounded honestly concerned. Since her role in the front lines of the war against the demons had been reduced, she had spent more time getting to know her friends as friends again, not just as allies.
"Just thinking about Althanea and what she said about me being the big gun here. It's a lot of pressure. Plus I always get the blues a little when I first arrive here."
"I'm sure you can handle the pressure. Althanea seems to think you can and so does Giles. And so do I. And the blues will pass, I promise you."
"I don't know, Buffy. It's been five years and I still feel it."
"I still miss my Mom. Every now and then I feel it. Not every day or every minute but something will happen and I find myself wishing Mom was here to see it. She would have been so proud of Dawn today."
"She would be. I can see you are."
Buffy walked from the counter top near the sink towards the fridge. "OOH! Apple juice! Want some, Will?"
"Yes please. I just realised how hungry I am."
"I think Giles is going to order some Chinese food tonight, save us all cooking."
As if by the magic of being mentioned, Giles wandered into the kitchen. His demeanour was relaxed, given all that happened that day as he opened his fridge and took a glass from the counter to pour himself some milk.
"Nice to see you still believe in healthy bones and teeth, Giles", laughed Buffy. She enjoyed making fun of her Watcher. For Buffy, it was at least a semblance of the normal life she had craved, the ability to poke fun at her elders. It had served her well to release the tension of a situation when she needed to relax, and that time was now.
"Very funny", scowled Giles. A wry smile soon grew on his lips though. He did love the old banter from his young students, even if he was the target of most of their jokes. It meant they were alive and that was always something to cherish.
"Living room seems oddly quiet, Giles", said Buffy as she peered from the kitchen into the hallway that led both to the living room and the stairway up to the bedrooms.
"Yes, the others have decided to turn in for the night so we can all put our heads together with a fresh perspective in the morning."
"Even Dawn?"
"No, she wanted to wait and talk to you before she retired for the evening."
"Okay." Buffy smiled wearily. She wondered when all was said and done what the more difficult and trying task was: being a Slayer, albeit part-time, or being an older sister. She decided at that moment it was being the elder sibling. She walked through from the kitchen down the hallway, heading for the living room and her sister.
Giles watched her leave, a small smile and shake of the head his acknowledgement that he didn't fully understand the sister-sister dynamic, but he was grateful for it. He then turned his gaze towards Willow. She looked worn out, pale and in need of sleep. But there was something deeper in her eyes, and he had an idea of what it was.
"You're worried about what Althanea said, about you being our best weapon in this."
"This morning, at the mansion, I felt it. I felt that woman's power and I could feel it trying to consume me. I didn't like that, Giles, and it was just one. How am I going to deal with all the power Althanea says Morgana has under her control?"
"We'll find a way of neutralising her somehow, Willow. But you are a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. We all have faith in you."
"How can you, when I have no faith in me?"
"Because I have seen you at your best and your worst and I know you can handle this, Willow."
"I just don't want to end up being your worst problem by getting too close to the darker side of my nature again."
"You won't. I promise you that. Now I think you could do with some rest. This will all look better in the morning."
Willow let out a defeated yawn. "I think you are right. Good night, Giles." Willow made her way to her bedroom, pausing briefly to say good night to Buffy and Dawn before heading upstairs to the warmth and comfort of the bedroom she knew all too well. When she first came here she was given this room, and she had spent many hours in her grief and melancholy, memorising every inch of the room.
She dressed into her pyjamas quickly and settled down to sleep. The images that plagued her mind slowly dissolved and she fell asleep.
The white dove sat alone in its golden cage. It could feel the tension in the air and it moved uneasily along its perch, one way then the other, not resting. The shadow of the larger bird nearby grew larger as it approached. The dove could see the forms of other birds, similarly shaped, circling overhead.
The cage was in the middle of a clearing, a beautiful meadow and yet the trees, which were so far away, seemed ominously close to the bird as the first of the shadows landed near the cage. The raven peered in, its eyes looking upon the dove with a hatred that was palpable. The dove wanted to escape, to fly away from the circling ravens above but it could not escape.
With speed and intent of purpose the raven pecked at the dove's body. The white feathers of the bird covered in small specks of red blood. The bird pecked again and again. Blood began to seep from the wounds as other ravens swooped down to join their brethren in pecking and skewering the bird on their beaks and talon-like claws. The dove tried its best to defend itself but the ravens were merciless. As if in final desperation the dove let loose a fearful, shrieking cry that seemed as much a declaration of its pain as it was a warning or cry for help. But the shrieking did not stop the ravens, they pecked and they bit and they tore at the white bird until its coat was a matted mass of blood-drenched feathers. The cry continued until the dove stopped moving, stopped screaming, stopped living.
The ravens circled around the cage, gilded now as much with blood and white feathers as with gold, and eyed their next target. They began to circle high above, blood and entrails still hanging from their beaks and claws, all of them buzzing around the onlooker, standing a mere five feet from the cage. The ravens dove down, screeching in attack as the figure raised her hands to defend herself. Claws and beaks were scraping and pecking, finding their target, ripping through her. She could feel the pain, tasting the blood as it formed in her mouth. She screamed in agony as she fell to the ground, ravens surrounding her like a swarm of bees moving in for the kill. She dared to open her eyes, only to see the raven's beak peck into her socket as she roared in defenceless misery.
Dawn awoke, screaming. Her arms were waving madly over her body as if defending herself from the attacks of the birds. Her hands reflexively felt for her eyes and she was relieved to find they were both still there. She had expected to still hear the shrieking, the cawing of the ravens, but all she heard was a single voice, calling her name, begging her to wake. It was Willow.
"Dawn, wake up! Dawn!" Willow could see the terrified look on Dawn's face and wondered what kind of nightmare could cause such a reaction.
Dawn began to find her bearings and at last recognised Willow, her room, and the fact that she was not outside being attacked by ravens. She shuddered as a wave of nausea came over her and she ran to the en-suite bathroom. She washed her face and rinsed out her mouth after the nausea had left her body. She could still feel the shaking though, there was little to be done about that.
The screams had awoken Buffy and she came into the room, sword in hand, looking for trouble. All she found was a worried best friend and a shaken but otherwise unharmed younger sister.
"Okay, someone wanna tell me who disturbed my beauty sleep?" Buffy asked, partly in serious tone and partly in jest to lighten the tension.
"My fault", said Dawn. "I had a nightmare, a pretty vivid one. Real surround sound and technicolour widescreen. But I'm okay now."
"Are you sure?" asked Willow, concern growing in her voice. She had had many a nightmare here in this room and she wondered, momentarily, if something in the room had triggered the dreams. Some part of her that had been left here from all the grieving and mourning she had done over the years.
"Honestly, I am okay. I'm a little shaken up but I am okay. It was pretty potent."
Buffy relaxed her sword arm and nodded. She retreated back to her bedroom, giving herself a mental note to ask Dawn about the dream in the morning, when she was better prepared.
Wyngarde Castle, Welsh-English border
Morgana glanced over to her apprentice. She was younger than many of the previous apprentices that had come by in the years. But she was by far the most talented. But her talent was not what made her so unique. It was her desire for power. Morgana knew one day she could even become a problem, but only if she was left without her guidance.
"Did the shard work?" Morgana's attention was now focused on the crystal ball in front of her pupil. She was aware that many younger acolytes turned their noses up at such old fashioned devices as crystal balls, but her pupil embraced them completely.
"It worked but not as we had hoped. It was placed under the wrong bed. Buffy's younger sister received the dream instead of Willow."
"Then we will have to tell our spy to move the shard into the other bed, won't we?"
"I wanted her to suffer! She deserves to suffer!"
"And she will, Amy, all good things in good time. If you are as powerful as you profess to be, you will get your chance soon enough."
Amy Madison rose from her seat and smiled. "I will contact our spy and make the arrangements for you, Milady."
"Good, and ensure that the spy understand I will not accept another failure. Giving Willow that shard, and that dream, is the key to controlling her and once we have that control, Avalon is dead. There will be no entwined to save them."
"Are you sure that Willow is one of the Entwined?"
"I am positive. What I can't ascertain is who the other half is. But I am certain that controlling Willow will ensure the Entwined cannot come to be. Plus she'll make one hell of an ally when we bring Avalon to ruin."
"Then maybe we should bring our attack forward to tomorrow night. Hit them right after Willow falls asleep."
Morgana smiled, her protégé was learning quickly. "I agree. Set it up. Ensure our spy knows and make sure Philippe is ready."
"Yes, Milady."