by jixer » Thu Jul 14, 2005 11:01 am
Chapter 31
Close Of The Day
Tara Maclay collapsed back onto the bed and tried to catch her breath. After a moment she smiled at Willow’s smug look.
“You’ve still...got it,” Tara almost purred.
“Good to know,” Willow replied. “You didn’t do too bad yourself.”
“Is that a challenge?” Tara asked leaning toward her wife.
“Maybe,” Willow smirked.
“Definitely,” Tara said with a happy growl.
“After all,” Willow said with a shiver. “Once the magic is gone...”
“Come fly with me,” Tara started tunefully. “Come fly, let’s fly away...”
“Always,” Willow gasped.
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Sheriff Elizabeth Summers fought against her desire with every fiber of her being, and lost. She looked at her watch.
“You’re useless,” Governor Hernandez sighed. “And you’re going to be until this is over.”
“Sorry, Chief,” Buffy said with a sigh of her own.
Hernandez smiled that slim, nostalgic smile only Buffy and few others knew and nodded. “Go finish this,” he said gently. “Its probably more important than this anyway.”
“Let me say this,” Buffy said as she stood up. “I think you’re needed, but I wish there was someone else to do the job. I don’t want to do this to you, but...”
“But you think I should run for president,” Hernandez said shaking his head. “I was kind of hoping you’d tell me I was crazy.”
“Never said you weren’t,” Buffy grinned. “But after the last three idiots from both parties, who’s going to notice?”
“Such confidence!” Hernandez laughed.
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Anya looked over the books of Harris Construction one more time but her heart wasn’t in it. She rolled the cursor over the old Magic Box icon and brought up the pictures there. She brought up her favorite, the last day the shop had been open. Buffy was leaning against Charles, her ring displayed ever so casually. A much younger Anya smiled, her hands over a ballooning belly with Xander behind her. Next to that long ago Anya was Tara looking almost svelte in comparison at the same five month mark. Willow had a protective arm over Tara’s shoulder. Behind all of them Giles stood on the first rungs of the stairs to the now empty evil book level looking positively smug.
Anya looked up at the old shop bell. Xander and Jesse sauntered into what had been the best magic shop in Sunnydale, now the storefront home of Harris Construction. Several potential customers looked up from the plan books and remodeling displays. The personal touch the old building provided was one reason there was a six month waiting list for the company’s services.
And the rest Anya thought proudly, Is because he’s so good with his hands.
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“It turns out that I have some business in Salisbury,” Wes said casually. “When were you heading westward?”
“Tomorrow,” Elizabeth said suspiciously.
“Dear,” Virginia said gently. “You’re not fooling anyone. Its a one day conference the day after tomorrow.”
“Sarah and I are probably overkill,” Elizabeth. “We’ve worked it out so just one of us could do this part.”
“The words ‘probably’ and anything with ‘kill’ in it make me uncomfortable,” Wes admitted. “But if you’re bound and determined to do this alone I’ll just cluck my tongue and look over the top of my glasses.”
“Can we come?” Dennis and Linda Wyndam-Pryce asked in unison. “Can we?”
“With Daddy to his conference?” Wes asked brightly.
“Nooo!” the children exclaimed with horror. “With Sarah and Liz!”
“I did a report on Stonehenge,” Linda said proudly.
“What did you find out?” Sarah asked meeting the girl’s eyes.
“Stonehenge was constructed in the Neolithic period,” Linda said standing up straight. “The first structure was a mound. The stones themselves are granite and were brought in from far away. There are a lot of ideas about how it was done but we may never know because the stones we see today were actually placed in the current positions from 1901 to the 1960’s.” The girl frowned. “Mrs. Skylark didn’t like that part but its true.”
“Yes it is,” Sarah said with a small smile. “They used machines of steel and set some of the stones in concrete.”
“Why do you go out there if it’s all fake?” Dennis asked.
“Its not fake,” Linda replied. “It really is old. Its just broken and fixed up like on the antique shows.”
“Exactly,” Liz agreed.
“Can we come with you then?” Dennis asked quickly.
“Not this time,” Wes said with gentle firmness.
“Daaaddyyy!” the children whined.
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Buffy waited patiently for Giles outside his small house. The roses seemed a touch wilted in the California sun even if it was just the first part of the morning. Eventually Giles came out and shut the door firmly. In his hand was a clipboard. Buffy sighed.
“How big is yours?” Buffy asked.
“Fourteen pages,” Giles said with a gentle chuckle. “Peter is with Charles?”
“The steelhead are running,” Buffy replied with a smile. “Then they’re going to the coast.”
“For someone who spends his time chasing uncooperative cattle on a ranch your husband seems to be quite addicted to fishing,” Giles observed. “And he’s passed it on to his son.”
“Along with a taste for expensive cutting horses and chasing after chukkar,” Buffy nodded. Then she touched her cell phone. “Hey Will,” she said after a moment. “We’re hitting the road. I want to be at the ranch by sundown. Is she ready?”
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“I swear next time we’re taking a car,” Sarah said looking at her watch.
“I said rent a couple of scooters,” Liz replied.
“I want to get there in one piece,” Sarah answered.
“Before we’re fifty,” Liz groaned as the train lurched again. “What are we doing? Twenty?”
“If we’re lucky,” another rider grumbled.
“It’s the Tories,” a yawning young woman said surely.
“And Labour made anything run on time?” an older woman said primly.
“It’s British Rail,” the first passenger said. “Through all governments it remains a constant of service.”
The train shuddered to a complete stop. The passengers groaned as one. Then Sarah took out her cell and called the hotel in Salisbury to hold their rooms.
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Rebecca Rosenberg leaned towards the large plate glass window. Behind her Willow frowned at the overstuffed backpack.
“Do you have all your clothes?” Willow asked.
“Second level,” Rebecca said flipping open her PDA and looking at the schematic. “By level of expected climate and possible emergency conditions. Do you think the mosquito netting is too much?”
“Given the adventures your Aunt Buffy can find, no,” Willow said with a small smile.
“How long is she going to stay strong?” Rebecca asked with concern.
“At least another decade at her current level,” Willow answered. “She and Faith are the slow release points for the magical architectual remnants.”
“So magically enhanced buildings don’t just fall over,” Rebecca finished.
Willow looked down and saw the mostly hidden second piece of luggage. She looked at her daughter and tried to smile without trembling. “Honey,” she started. “You don’t have to hide your riding gear. I accept the fact that you like h-h-horses.”
“Thanks momma,” Rebecca said with a real smile.
“Of course I blame my wife for that,” Willow added with a small grin.
“I hope its worth the sacrifice,” Tara said from behind her as she circled Willow’s shoulders with her arms and looked at their daughter. “‘Becca, just how much homework are you taking?”
“Just a weekend’s worth,” Rebecca insisted.
“This is what you wanted, right?” Willow asked.
“Summer school?” Rebecca asked brightly. “With advanced placement courses? Moms, its wonderful! And I’m getting Calculus!”
“Cool!” Willow said with a matching enthusiasm. “How’d you get that?”
“Somebody dropped the course!” Rebecca said in amazement. “Can you believe that?”
Tara looked out the window and bit her tongue. She saw the old crew cab pickup pull into the drive. Rebecca whirled and grabbed her straining packs. She almost ran into Buffy at the door.
“Eager much?” Buffy asked.
“Well, yes,” Rebecca said seriously. “Once we close out magic I’ll have more time for school!”
With that Rebecca headed down the steps and hurried to the car. Buffy looked at Willow.
“You okay?” Buffy asked gently.
“I’ll get there,” Willow said taking Tara’s hand. “You need to get on the road if my child is going to risk life and limb on your four legged beasts.”
“I’ll have her back soon,” Buffy said. Then her smile faded and she looked distant.
“They’ll all be back soon,” Tara said with a smile.
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Little Ricky was almost two meters tall but he carried himself like a good middleweight. He’d learned that from watching ‘Masher’ Bowden. He was trying to learn more from the old yob. Ricky had learned that keeping a gang of hard boys and girls cohesive and obedient required more thinking than bullying. Plundering shops was fun, but if you plundered too much they closed up. You had to take enough to keep your lads and lasses in line and still make sure the sheep stayed in business to be sheared.
But real hard cases need to get let off the leash once in a while, and a reminder of who were the alpha predators also helped to keep the sheep docile. Which made the job on the two Yank girls such a good opportunity for Little Ricky. His crew had been building up steam ever since their latest arrest. He’d only needed a couple of them to convince the witnesses they were wrong. Now all of them could let go with a bit of fun.
As the darkness fell on the street outside Little Ricky smacked the door hard on the gang’s squat. The vodka bottles chimed in the bag he carried. Popper stuck his head out and grinned. Somehow he’d heard the bottles over the DeathBitch on the stereo.
“Stoly!” he yelled.
“And dust,” Little Ricky grinned.
It was going to be a good night. They had work to do in the morning.
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In the faint starlight near Stonehenge a figure moved through the night. The lights of the visitor’s center and the car park only hinted at a human form, but the speed and grace proved that hint wrong. Finally the shadow leapt to the top of a several millennia old lintel stone and disappeared into the greater darkness of the night.
An hour later a mist began to form in the folds of the distant hills and on the broad plains below.
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Buffy wheeled the pickup down the graded dirt road to the ranch. As they approached the first gate her cell phone gave a single old fashioned chirp. Giles saw her shoulders relax ever so slightly. He raised an eyebrow.
“Are we there yet?” Rebecca asked sleepily.
“Two more gates to Zephyr,” Buffy replied lightly. “And we’ve got a couple of hours to sundown.”
“Was I that obvious?” the girl asked.
Buffy just smiled.
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Tara sat next to Willow on the back porch of their home and looked over the garden with a critical eye. Willow smiled.
“I have a present for you,” the redhead said with an eagerness that just begged to be asked about.
“What is it?” Tara said indulging the tone.
“Close your eyes,” Willow said quickly. Tara did so and waited. She felt a hint of a pull on her core. “Open them.”
Across the garden in the twilight the plants gave off a soft radiance. Around them butterflies and bumblebees of light danced on the evening breeze. In the background the sounds of the voices of the children who had grown up in this refuge echoed happily. Then all of the soft lights became the dancing lightning bugs of Tara’s childhood. Willow watched Tara’s smile spread and knew she used the last of the spare magic well. Finally the magic lights faded as they drifted upward and drew the pair’s eyes to the stars. While she was looking up Tara felt Willow’s kiss on her cheek. Tara looked down with the tears of happiness glistening in the starlight of the new night. Willow kissed her again.
“There will always be magic with you,” Willow said softly. “Always.”
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“The morning of tomorrow,” an old man said waking from his nap.
“What’s happening then, grandfather?” a boy asked.
“Oldest Hunter will be going home,” the old man said.
“Father, what are you telling him now?” the boy’s father asked.
“A story of The People’s greatest warrior,” Oldest Hunter’s son said sagely. “Put away your cell phone and laptop, my son. Tonight we prepare to sing him home.”
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Buffy watched as Rebecca carefully finished putting out the grain and filling the buckets. From the campfire she could hear Giles strumming his guitar, all trace of arthritis gone for the moment. In the distance a coyote gave tentative start and then burst into a true howl at the new night. The horses whickered softly.
“Canis Latrans,” Rebecca said after a moment.
“He’s a ways off,” Buffy said. A moment later a closer one took up the call. Rebecca stole a glance at the old Winchester by the campfire.
“They’ve never been that close before,” Rebecca said.
“They’re just wondering what’s going on,” Buffy explained.
Rebecca looked away from the rifle and found herself gazing in wonder at the dense stars overhead. The view never grew old out here. There was a hint of light beyond the distant mountains to the east.
“I’d better get ready,” Rebecca said setting aside her laptop.
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“Oh bloody hell,” Liz said as she yawned. “Do you have the e-map?”
“Yeah,” Sarah said looking into the foggy pre-dawn morning. “I’m thinking we should have taken Wes up on his offer.”
“Make sure you stay on the wrong side of the road and are flashing,” Liz said strapping on her helmet. “We may have to walk the last off road bit.”
“Great,” Sarah sighed as she turned on her safety lights and mounted the mountain bike. “Tallyho.”
“Is that a nice thing to say about Tally?” Liz asked primly.
“Morning puns are the worst kind,” Sarah warned as she pushed off down the street.
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The walk to the park felt oddly familiar to the older branch of the group meandering down the sidewalks of Sunnydale. Joyce and Jesse were either ahead or behind, full of an almost frantic energy. Rupert Harris watched his parents and his teachers look around them as they walked.
“Did anyone remember their stakes?” he asked sounding like his namesake for the moment. All of the adults shifted their sleeves slightly. Anya glared at her oldest son.
“Not a word, got it?” she asked in a tone that said it was not a question. Rupert just grinned.
“Besides,” Willow said with a flip of her hand. “Pepper spray is so old fashioned.”
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The ripples in the sky of the former Hellmouth were steady now. Timothy looked worriedly at Spike. The vampire lowered his head and sighed. The young knight put a compassionate hand on Spike’s shoulder and was suddenly in a headlock.
“Not the hair!” Timothy yelled.
“What’s the fun in that?” Spike said as gave Tim a nougie.
Timothy lifted the vampire and dropped Spike across an armored knee. Spike flipped before the full impact could stun him but he was off balance. Timothy leapt for him but Spike stumbled away.
“I shall have my revenge, hair musser!” Timothy declaimed as he chased after Spike.
“Welcome to Valhalla’s kindergarten,” Dawn muttered as Oldest Hunter began to laugh and follow the pursuit tossing grass darts at both of them.
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The shadow of the night was fading in the valleys below the long house when the spear began to glow with a true green light. The older men just nodded and kept up the songs of the exploits of Oldest Hunter but many of the younger ones stood up and touched the spear.
Thrusting upward as the foul breath of the beast lashed him. The teeth raked his legs as the dragon’s eggs roared and tore at the monster-
Oldest Hunter’s great grandson blinked away the pain and the images. He looked at his father who just nodded.
“But how is this possible?” the boy asked.
“I have a Master’s degree in Biology,” his father answered. “I know both my own tribe’s words and the great works of the world’s authors. The closest I can come is ‘there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy’.”
Then together they took up the refrain of their ancestor’s story.
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“Places everyone,” Willow said as she opened her notebook. “Roo, you have the easternmost side. Tara has the north. Xander, you have south. Anya, could you sit right here and hold his hand because-”
“Because we’re grounding,” Anya said with a yawn. “We’ve been through the rehersals a dozen times. At least you’re not as bad as when you update our software.”
“Nothing left unspecified, nothing overlooked,” Willow said firmly. “Now, I have the base.”
“Now?” Joyce and Jesse asked together as they began to levitate.
“Almost,” Willow said, regretting her choice of words. “Please get down.”
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Little Nicky glowered as his gang spilled out of a trio of vehicles. He looked at his watch and the surrounding thick mists that hid the first blush of Dawn on the horizon.
“Perfect night for this,” Popper laughed as slipped his neoteeth into place. He smiled in the fog shrouded parking lot. “Grrr! Argh!”
“Slip’em on,” Little Nicky growled. One by one his people grinned their pointed smiles. He liked the effect. It capitalized on people’s fears of monsters in the dark. He gave his own predator’s grin.
“Let’s party!”
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The two Californians left the roadway and began the cross country part of their trip. Both girls turned off the safety flashers and pulled out what looked like thick goggles. The fifth generation night vision devices helped but did not penetrate the morning fog. Liz and Sarah saw the Sarsen stones loom out of the murk. The girls heard noises like car doors slamming and voices to their right as they passed the monument. A few moments later they left the reconstructed site in the mist and headed on past it to a small grove of trees. Finally Sarah looked down at her e-map as the first rough ground appeared.
“Here,” she said as she stopped her bike. “We’ve found her.”
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“Split up!” Little Nicky bellowed. “First one that finds them yells.”
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Popper was flying low on dust and vodka. He shambled into the gloom with his flashlight. The dust gave everything a halo where the light hit it. The secondary effect of the dust was making the cool air wet and cold on his skin. He shivered and figured on warming up when he found the Yanks. He heard a noise ahead of him and he lunged.
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Little Nicky felt the first hint of fear when he heard Popper scream instead of yell. He ran in that direction and almost tripped over the sobbing man on the ground. There were other screams nearby when the gang leader shined his light on the broken ruin of Popper’s mouth. Blood filmed over the remains of neoteeth and the ruined stumps of real teeth beneath.
“Help me!” whimpered Popper. “SSShe broke my legs!”
“Who?!?” Little Nicky demanded as a scream came out of the night to his left.
“I don’t know!” Popper howled helplessly. “I don’t know! SSShe said I wasn’t a vampire and laughed after she broke my teeth and-”
There was a brief crescendo of screams followed by a chorus of sobs and moans around him. He whirled in place with the flashlight, hoping against hope for the sun to rise more swiftly. Then a wave of fire engulfed his right knee. His own scream pierced the night as his left leg failed in agony. In the light of his dropped light a slim female silhouette reached for him and lifted him with one hand.
“Bowden set you up, fool,” she said with an American accent. “Consider this a learning experience. Try to touch mine again and this will seem like kisses from your whore of a mother.”
Then her elbow moved too fast to see and his mouth was instantly full of pain. The next blow under his chin that sent his shattered teeth into his jaw made him scream. It became a shriek when she let go and his broken legs took all his weight at once.
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Sarah and Liz looked over into the darkness and saw the gleams of light.
“That sounded like a fight,” Sarah said worriedly.
“That sounded like a massacre,” Liz corrected. “Whatever it is it might be connected to the last of the magic.”
“We need to hurry!” Sarah said.
With that she and Liz joined hands. With the two of them they found the target quickly. On the edge of the fading, disturbed magic of Stonehenge, three meters under the earth, an unprepossessing grave rested. Miraculously undisturbed from before the building of the great stone edifice nearby, its lone occupant had been a poor wise woman, buried with only the few things her tribe could spare her for the afterlife. But each of those things was given with love and respect. For Liz and Sarah the earth beneath them resonated with power.
“We’re ready,” Liz said softly.
Around them the trees and grasses took on the faintest glow of green.
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“Sir!” Alistair Browne called out. “The spell must be starting!”
“Excellent!” Roger Wyndam-Pryce said exuberantly. “Power up the relays and open the Holliwell jar!”
“Do we have vampire candidates ready, sir?” Browne asked worriedly.
“The blood of witches, dear boy,” Roger said grimly. “Blood of witches.”
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“Are you quite through?” Wesley asked crossly.
“You said be thorough,” Faith replied as she leapt gracefully onto the roadway. Then she looked over at the shadow of a thin band of trees nearby. “I wish I could see the girls...”
“They’ll be fine,” Wesley said much more gently. “But only if they can say they truly know nothing about what happened here to the police.”
“Which is why I have to still be in rehab when they get home,” Faith sighed. “Slayer dreams are a pain in the butt. Vampires my ass. Are the cops on their way?”
“No, and my loop on the surveillance cameras seems to be unquestioned,” Wes replied as they got into the car rented to an electronic nonentity.
“You might want to put that away,” Faith pointed out as Wes reached for the driver’s side door. “Connor would have a hard time explaining how one of his SEAL team’s issued SMGs ended up here.”
“Oh, right,” Wes said with an embarrassed cough. “Submachine guns in public are frowned on at present.”
“Especially silenced ones with no serial numbers,” Faith said with a slim grin.
“You know, the suppressors would keep the noise pollution down,” Wes observed. “I think I’ll put that in my next novel.”
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“They’re ready,” Rupert said closing his eyes.
“Honey,” Tara said into the night. “We’re ready.”
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“The spell is about to start,” Rebecca announced as she stood up and lifted her arms as high and as wide as she could. Buffy and Giles joined her and formed a triangle on the edge of the firelight. On the ground in the center of the triangle a Navajo blanket was folded over twice.
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“Guys...” Dawn choked on her words. “I-I love you all.”
For a moment all three men hugged the crying girl. Then there was the faintest of clear notes like the softest of birdsongs. Dawn closed her eyes.
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For the briefest of moments there was the outline of a perfect cube done in green light in the park. That probably would have been the second most astonishing thing. The first would have been the two teenagers seemingly hovering above it and the woman rising from the ground beneath it as it shrank.
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“Sir!” Alistair yelped. “The readings!”
“Good God!” Roger shouted angrily. “They’re falling!”
“But-”
“Those incompetent twits are going to drain the last of the magic!” Roger snarled. “They’re supposed to return it! Call it under their control!” Then he turned ashen and sat down heavily. “How could Rupert’s witches have failed so badly?”
Alistair moaned as the meters fell to zero.
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Liz and Sarah felt the magic pass softly away as the dawn broke over the plain. The last of the magic turned from green to the pale golden light of dawn as it faded from their hands.
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In Sunnydale the faint outline of a cube was now the size of the smallest of dice, invisible as the last coven brushed hands around it. They did not see the color change, but felt it pass away like a summer’s breeze against their palms.
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“Now!” Rebecca said urgently.
For a second Buffy saw nothing but green light. Then there was the faintest hint of gold that faded to nothing. In the instant after the gold disappeared Dawn was just there, standing in the middle of the arms of her family. Buffy saw the tears on her sister’s face and closed her arms around Dawn. The other two added their shelter as Dawn clung to them under the stars above.
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“Did she make it?” Rupert asked worriedly.
“I think so,” Tara said softly.
“It felt like it,” Willow added thoughtfully.
“We need to be sure!” Rupert insisted.
Tara looked at Willow and saw the redhead’s thoughtful expression. Rupert’s words had something under them more than a familial concern. Tara reached out as the young man reached for his cell.
“Give them a moment, Roo,” Tara said gently.
He looked at her with an anguished expression for a moment, Then he looked down and blushed enough to see even under the park’s lights as he put back his phone.
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In the desert the night became full of coyote song. Rebecca looked up.
“What are they howling about?” Dawn asked staring up at the stars.
“I think I may know,” Rebecca said suddenly. “It’s in my reports database.”
“Your report has a database?” Buffy asked incredulously.
“It’s extra credit,” Rebecca replied.
“Her mother’s daughter,” Giles sighed.
“Here it is!” Rebecca said proudly. “Mammalian calls: Canis. We just find Canis Latrans and sample the ambient sound and do a matching search and...it closely resembles the inquiry patterns reported in the latest online edition of Peterson’s Guide to Western American Mammals.”
“What is your report on?” Giles asked.
“Mammalian diversity,” Rebecca said eagerly. “Look at my cover page.”
For some reason Giles and Dawn looked at the picture of a manatee and a giraffe and began to laugh joyfully and hug each other again. The auburn haired girl looked at the picture and didn’t understand their response. Buffy saw her perplexed look and patted the girl’s shoulder.
“He’s old and she’s been through a lot,” Buffy said in a kindly tone.
“At least she still has on clothes,” Rebecca pointed out. “Oh! I haven’t given the signal! Mom will yell and Sarah will skin me!”
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On the Plains of Salisbury and in a park in Sunnydale a young girl’s voice called out “She’s home!”
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Six weeks later the August air was carrying the scent of broiling meat. The houses on either side were empty this weekend and that was probably for the best. The source of the meaty goodness appeared to be a family only affair given the way all of the children, pets and adults crowded together behind 1630 Revello in what might be best described as a happy ‘welcome home everyone’ riot with a banner bearing that message scrawled in bright colors.
A passer-by might have guessed the occupation of the very fit man in his thirties bench-pressing a pair of happily squealing children and guessed he was the reason for the affair. And perhaps it might also be for the dark skinned bald man recognizable as ‘Dr. Preston’ of the syndicated series of the same name. It might be that he could have recognized the Sheriff of Santa Clara County , but not the old man playing the guitar she listened to so intently. Nor would he have looked twice at the lean brunette girl laughing with the boy with unruly black hair carefully in view of the Sheriff but far enough away to offer some privacy with all the noise.
And our fictional pedestrian most certainly would not have given a second look at the two women sitting on the porch hand in hand watching the chaos with wide smiles, for what could they be but suburban mothers enjoying a family reunion on a lazy summer day?
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EPILOGUE
“Buffy!” Willow howled as the Master tossed the wounded Slayer at the feet of the witches.
“Willow!” Tara called out. “Concentrate!”
“I can’t do this!” Willow cried.
“Of course not,” the Master sneered. “You’re still blind to the obvious.”
“What?” Willow shouted angrily.
“Simple, Red,” a new vampire said lighting a cigarette. “You love Tara, Tara loves you, and love is the thing you have to have to make the sun shine, ain’t it?”
“Who are you?!?” the Master snarled angrily.
“Me?” the peroxided vamp asked sauntering up to the old vampire in front of his army. “I’m just passing through.”
With that he head-butted the Master and tossed the burning cancer stick into the face of his closest henchman. As the fight began Willow turned to Tara and blinked for a second.
“You love me?” the redhead asked incredulously.
“Of c-c-course I do,” Tara replied looking down.
“We can do this?” Willow asked softly as she lifted Tara’s chin and stared into the blue depths that swallowed time. “I mean, even if we’re only sophomores?”
“Yes,” Tara whispered. “together we can do this.”
“We haven’t got all bloody night!” the new vampire yelled as he kicked the weaving Master in the crotch.
Together they lifted their clasped hands and began the chant. Willow was less concerned about the absolute perfection in her phrasing as she marveled at how good it felt to hold Tara’s hand. Their words ended and the alley began to fill with light. They looked at the milling mob of frantic vampires and saw the bleached one they had never seen before sit down, grab a new cigarette and light it hurriedly. He got one good puff in before the light filled the alley and he disappeared in a flash.
The light began to flow more gently than water but more quickly than mercury. It swept over Buffy in waves and the Slayer’s wounds began to heal. Then it acted like water and flowed down sewers or like vapor and drifted merrily through windows. Finally Willow’s arm began to ache and she let go of Tara’s hand. Night returned, a more gentle sable sky covering a now peaceful town. Buffy sat up.
“What happened?”
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Spike shuddered and opened his eyes. He reached with little hope and found, as he had expected, no cigarettes. He sat up and looked at Hans.
“Now that was the way it should be, by gum!” Spike said brightly. “In with an air of mystery, jolly good row, damsels saved and bad guys defeated topped off with a tragic end. How much did we get?”
The bookkeeper looked over his glasses and sighed. In the odd light here it was hard to see that the drab man was chained to an enormous tome that he carried. Hans opened the book.
“A page and a half,” he answered tiredly.
“Bloody hell,” Spike muttered. “I was a right bastard. It’ll take years at this rate.”
“At least you go out,” the bookkeeper said wistfully. He held up a hand before Spike could speak. “If I had been more worried about what and who I was recording in my books and less about neatness I would not be here. It is just. Now your next one is...more challenging.”
“Balls,” muttered Spike.
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There was an awful clanging noise that sounded mechanical. That’s what brought Willow. She arrived in the drawing room and stared. In the lower case of the Summers’ long clock (the one that Willow had firm orders not to take apart) a man waved at her. Well, it was kind of a wave because he seemed to be very jammed up in the clock.
“Please let me out, luv,” the man in the clock said with an accent like Mr. Giles.
Willow nodded and pulled the key from it’s place on the bottom of the bookcase and opened the clock.
“Thank you,” the man with the very pale hair said as he climbed out. He started to stretch. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Willow,” the girl said politely.
“Oh sh-ugar,” The man said with a frown.
Suddenly Willow knew they were being watched. She turned around to see the quiet blonde girl who had been following her all day.
“This is Tara. She’s Mrs. Maclay’s daughter. Mrs. Maclay is-was the maid.”
“Just...how old are you, Willow?” the man asked with a grimace.
“I’m five,” Willow replied politely.
“He came out of the clock,” Tara said looking closely at the clock and then at the man. “Mister, how did you get into the clock?”
“Long story,” the man sighed like grown-ups did when you asked them questions sometimes. The telephone rang.
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“Hello?” Joyce Summers said into her bedside phone trying to sound neutral.
“Joyce?” Sheila’s frantic voice nearly sobbed. “For God’s sake get out of town and take Willow. Please! The Committee has just-”
“Get off the phone, Jew!” a voice bellowed. There was a scream and the sound of wood on flesh.
Joyce slammed down the phone and felt her heart beat a tattoo of fear. She took a deep breath and grabbed her purse.
“Buffy, get Tara and Willow!” she called out to her daughter.
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Downstairs Spike realized he was looking at himself in the mirror.
“Bloody hell,” he whispered. He tried to move the piano. It shifted easily. He raised an eyebrow.
“Girls!” a frantic voice that was somehow familiar called out.
Spike looked up and saw Joyce Summers coming down the stair. She looked a decade younger and frightened. It suited her, bringing out a strength and grace that made him want to capture her beauty in words. She stopped and looked at him.
“Are you from the Committee?” she asked coldly.
“I don’t do committees,” Spike answered truthfully.
“He came out of the clock,” Tara answered.
“Tara!” Joyce said happily. Then she smiled at the girl. “It’s good to hear your voice again, Tara.”
The little girl nodded. “Yes’m.”
There was a sudden knock at the door, then a key was being used. In stepped Giles, looking frantic and reeking of smoke.
“Joyce, we must hurry!” he said breathlessly. “They’ve marched on the university and burned the library!”
Then Giles looked at Spike and moved closer to Joyce. Her hand came up to Giles’ without looking.
“Never a chance,” William whispered sadly. “Not once.”
“Are the bad men going to take Willow?” Buffy asked with a frown.
“We’re not gonna let them, luv,” Spike said shaking his head and putting on his best carefree smile. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Who are you?” Giles asked grimly.
“A friend,” Spike said. Suddenly he heard, far away, the sound of a mob. He looked at the others and realized he was the only one to hear the sounds. “Not impossible, just damn difficult,” he muttered. “This had better be worth a bloody chapter.”
“What did you say?” Tara asked looking at him carefully.
“We need to get moving,” Spike said looking at the two girls standing side by side, Willow’s arm protectively across Tara’s shoulders. “I’ll explain...never mind. We’re going to get company. Let’s go!”
The End