AS TIME GOES BY
Part 27
Synopsis: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Sometimes, it just was. And there's a baby.
Pairings: Willow and Tara; Karl Rove and a US Federal Grand Jury
Distribution: With permission and along the normal curve
(Mary wrote, suddenly having a flashback to her graduate stats classes).Disclaimer: Dis claimer is ta state dat I don't own dese characters.
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Oh god...Buffy and Faith tore down the hallway and took the stairs two at a time, Willow and Tara a few steps behind them. They skidded into the kitchen, finding nothing but clean dishes drying on a rack. A dash to the living room showed it to be empty as well.
"Fuck," Faith muttered under her breath.
"Dawn! Xander!" Buffy's voice was thick with fear.
Glancing to her left, Willow instinctively flung open the front door, not really expecting to find--
Xander and Dawn standing together, eyes wide.
Buffy pushed frantically past Willow. "Don't do it!" she shouted hoarsely.
The carpenter and the teenager exchanged a furtive glance, then looked back guiltily at the quartet before them.
"Xander, Dawnie--listen to her," Willow implored, though her sheer terror had abated with the knowledge that the two Slayers could easily stop them even if they tried to bolt.
"Maybe she's right," Dawn finally whispered. "Maybe--maybe we shouldn't be taking out the trash."
Glancing down the sidewalk, Willow could see two cans standing smartly at attention, awaiting the transfer of their contents.
"Buffy, relax," Xander said, a grin creasing his features. "We're been with Anya or Giles or both the whole time. Anya helped us with the dishes. Heck, I even showered with her," he added conspiratorially.
"Thanks for sharing," Faith replied, taking an instinctive step backward.
Dawn piped up, "And while I did
not shower with--"
"Don't say it!" came five voices, united in a new and altogether different kind of horror.
"My point is, my itinerary looked a little different from Xander's, but I've been Suzy Social all morning too."
"OK. Good." Buffy drew a deep breath, then looked up sharply. "But this little detour? Very foolish, kids." She glared at Xander with particular feeling, and Willow knew that the Slayer held him responsible for this foolishness.
"Hey, I asked Xander for help," Dawn replied, catching the look. "It was a five-minute trip."
"Which wouldn't be a problem if the threat in question moved with all the speed and agility of George Bush's brain," Buffy shot back. "But we know how he works."
"Hey, I'm sorry," Xander said, raising his hands. "My bad."
"It's just...You guys know better," Buffy said, hands on hips.
"C'mon--let's not stand out here and argue," Tara suggested, linking her arm companiably through Xander's. "Whatever will the neighbors think?"
"That we're a real bunch of freaks," Dawn nodded, sounding rather proud of the fact. As they turned to go back, Willow caught another glance between Dawn and Xander, one that smacked of something other than "Oops, we goofed up."
What's going on here?They trudged inside to find Giles and Anya waiting for them. "Oh--there you are," the Watcher said with obvious relief. "Each of us thought you were with the other."
So you planned this little side trip? Willow's internal threat system went from yellow to orange.
"Well, we're all together again," Xander replied smoothly. "And really, kids--we can't let so much time go by between visits. People just drift apart when they don't see each other regularly. So, Willow and Tara...News? Updates?"
Willow frowned for a moment.
You aren't off the hook, Xander Harris. But she proceeded to fill in the others on their conversation with the immortal trio.
"So Kyra gets to choose?" Dawn asked, her voice reflecting some of Willow's initial disbelief.
"That's what they said," Tara nodded. "Though they seemed insufferably certain that she
would choose to be the Guardian."
And they were probably right, Willow realized. Look how she would grow up; who would be shaping her...Catching the others' expressions, she knew they were thinking the same thing.
"Well...it wouldn't surprise me," Buffy said slowly, casting an apologetic glance at Tara. "I mean, her role models
are sorta...active."
"Yeah," Xander added tentatively. "It's not like we'd be in much of a position to say, 'Kyra Rosenberg-Maclay, you put down that broadsword right now and go back to leaf collecting.'"
"I know," Tara said heavily. "I just...It scares me." She squeezed Willow's hand, then fixed Faith with a sudden, urgent gaze. "Faith--if it comes to that, we'll need you. I mean,
really need you. Promise us you'll come through. Please."
Willow was startled to hear her soft-spoken mate issue such a directive.
This is just a whole different level of danger.Faith looked squarely first at Tara, and then Willow. There was none of the typical bravado or sarcasm in her eyes, or in her voice when she replied, "I promise. She gets everything I have." She turned to Buffy and added quietly, "I'll need your help, B."
"Everything I have."
Willow felt everything else dropping away for one suspended moment: the four of them held together in a tight circle. The four points, with Kyra at the priceless, precious center.
She'll learn from such amazing women...And then, again, she felt some sort of energy--heat?--shimmer between the two Slayers. Or was she imagining it?
Someone shifted behind her, and Willow wrenched her attention away from this inner circle, turning to look at the others.
"Willow...Tara...Each of us will do our part, should this prophecy come to pass," Giles offered simply.
"Yeah," Dawn jumped in. "I mean, we may not show up in the prophecy credits, but we'll be there. I'll have a thing or two to teach her about having an unusual start to life."
"And I'm not exactly Super Power Boy, but Uncle Xander will be there to help her with...Well, I'm not sure, exactly...but I'll be there." He shrugged awkwardly, shoving his hands deep into his jeans pockets.
"You'd better be there," Tara said softly, favoring him with a patented Tara-smile: lop-sided, and so very gentle.
"And I'll teach her what to do if someone tries to fuck her over," Anya put in decisively. "As Dr. Seuss wrote, 'Oh, The Tortures You'll Know!'"
"Um, I think that's 'Oh, The
Places You'll
Go,'" Willow ventured hesitantly, casting a worried look at her mate.
"Sure. That's what it ended up as," Anya said darkly. "But the original? The illustrations alone..."
"Right, well, we'll review her reading list in due time," Tara broke in, returning Willow's gaze. "But for now--thank you. All of you."
"Though the previous caveat still applies," Giles added. "We hope that this is a moot point because our primary goal is to stop this creature."
"Um...about that," Willlow began, and felt the reassuring warmth of Tara's hand on her own. "They basically said we couldn't. Stop him, I mean."
"Excuse me?" Buffy broke in. "We
can't? As in, we're not allowed, or we're not able?"
"That would be Door Number Two," Tara said regretfully.
"OK, now that just pisses me off," Faith muttered.
"They said to go ahead and try, but we wouldn't succeed," Willow put in.
"They're taunting us," Xander spluttered.
"I don't think so," Tara replied slowly. "It was more...logical, I guess, or philosophical. Like, they knew we'd try to stop him because that's what we do, and we'd
definitely try because Kyra's involved, and they're not going to try to stop us. They just know--or they say they know--that this is one bad guy we can't stop. We kept saying it wasn't fair and they...They didn't exactly find that a news flash," she finished, looking at Willow who nodded in agreement.
"But why do they need the ten deaths in the first place?" Dawn asked. "Why not just send Kyra a few years ahead of these women she's supposed to protect and let her decide when the time is right?"
"They said he was just a tool," Willow shrugged. "'A means to an end,' I think, were their exact words."
"Do we know if they actually
wrote the prophecy?" Xander asked.
"That has been my assumption," Giles nodded. "Although of course it's possible that some other source is responsible for the prophecy and these spirits simply appropriated it for their own uses." He chewed thoughtfully on the stem of his glasses.
"That seems like a dicey proposition," Buffy countered, shaking her head. "They would have to depend on this guy showing up at the right time, and there's no sign that he makes regularly scheduled appearances, right?" She glanced at Giles, who nodded in confirmation.
"But maybe it works the other way around," Anya offered. At the others' confused expressions, she explained, "Maybe they wait until
he shows up--whenever that is--and then start the heads rolling."
"Except Kyra came just over a year ago," Tara pointed out, "and the suicides didn't start until last month."
"Pisser," Anya replied petulantly.
"Speaking of which--timing, not urination--do we know yet if there's a deadline here?" Dawn asked, but Giles shook his head regretfully.
"I'm afraid not. Similar to his appearances in this dimension, the time between attacks shows no discernible pattern."
"So then, going back to the connection between the prophecy and this Big Bad--would these wencholas, with all their talk about What Will Be, really leave the timing up to chance?" Buffy demanded skeptically.
"Doesn't seem to fit," Faith mused.
"OK, let's go with the theory that they wrote the prophecy," Willow said, trying to sort all of the elements in her mind. ""Does that mean they sent this freak in the first place?"
"If they did, that really blows their claim to goodness right outta the water," Xander replied, eyes widening.
"Hey, they're more than willing to let ten people die now for some future good," Dawn pointed out.
"But to create something that reappears, endlessly, over the course of centuries if not millenia?" Giles asked incredulously. "I agree with Xander--and yes, I realize that that fact is apocalyptic in its own right--that such an act would make them the basest of hypocrites."
"Alright, how about
this?" Anya began. "Our latest Big Bad is independent of the prophecy, at least where origins are concerned. He shows up on the Anadeis' radar, for whatever reason, they decide he would be perfect for the role of Prophecy Boy, and the curtain rises."
"OK, that could fit," Willow nodded, "but Dawn's right: why mess with a prophecy in the first place? Why build the ten souls into it?"
Giles looked at her uncomfortably. "Is it possible that these latest victims are the price for--for the greater good?"
"You mean the price for Kyra," Tara said flatly.
"By extension--yes." The Watcher's voice made it abundantly clear that he didn't enjoy this line of thinking at all.
Oh goddess...not that, too. How many things would they have to explain to Kyra? Willow pictured their daughter, sleeping only a few yards away, and felt overwhelmed at the thought of all they would have to say to her over the years.
Maybe it'll make the sex talk seem like a snap..."Before we saddle the kid with
another burden, let's back up a step," Faith said decisively. "I think we gotta focus on what we
do know and how we can use it."
"That'll be a shorter conversation," Anya muttered.
"Faith's right," Buffy nodded. "Until we have some idea of where and who this guy's gonna hit, all of this speculation doesn't amount to a hill of fresh-roasted coffee beans."
"All we know is that it gives no warning aside from exhaustion and a headache and that it moves so fast it's scary," Xander offered.
"Leaves no trace, can't be seen, felt, heard, or smelled," Dawn continued. "We'll leave out taste," she added.
"We always do," Giles said drily.
"Could we try to track down the most likely targets?" Tara asked. "You know--figure out whose moral resume makes them a good bet?"
"It's possible," Giles acknowledged, "though one wonders exactly what we would tell them, and certainly whether they would be inclined to do anything with our story aside from have us forcibly and understandably removed from the premises."
"Maybe a PSA," Anya suggested.
"Sounds kinky," Faith said approvingly.
"Sadly, no," Anya replied. "A public-service announcement. You know, those spots on TV where supposedly real people talk about real problems, and then this avuncular man does a voice-over to tell you what you can do about it."
"And what exactly would our spot say, Ahn?" Xander asked, looking at his wife with a mixture of bewilderment and affection. "'Have you been feeling suddenly and desperately suicidal, despite a lifetime of good deeds? You might be the target of a demonic creature who feeds on moral souls. Be careful, and buck up!' I dunno..."
"Yet again, I'm forced to agree with Xander," Giles said. "I can appreciate wanting to reach as many people as possible, Anya, yet I can't imagine such a thing proving successful."
"Just trying to help." The ex-vengeance demon sounded distinctly demoralized.
"I know. I appreciate it," Willow replied, and meant it. For all of Anya's foibles, Willow knew that she loved Kyra fiercely.
"Will, you said you might be able to work some computer magic, come up with some ideas about the next attack, based on what we do know?" Buffy said hopefully.
Willow looked at her glumly. "I've run every possible program and model imaginable, and believe me, there are quite a few. There just aren't enough data to give us any kind of useful picture."
Faith gave an exasperated sigh and plopped down on the couch, shaking her head. "Dammit, even if we could figure out a way to attack it, we don't even know where to
find it. This is like a bad fucking dream, where you know you need to call someone and you keep trying, you keep walking up to the phone and you plug in a few numbers but then you forget, or something distracts you and you lose your place, and time just keeps slipping away and the next thing you know you're in a strip bar." She glanced up quickly at the bemused faces around her. "Um, that last part may be just me," she mumbled.
"Faith's right," Willow said, rubbing her temples. "Well, maybe not the strip bar, but everything else. We're flying blind, with absolutely no sign of a working instrument panel any time soon."
Frustration and near-desperation rippled through the silence that followed. Willow could feel everyone growing more dispirited, trapped in the Summers house with myriad speculations and zero good info.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dawn lay a surreptitious hand on Xander's arm, and looked up to see yet another silent glance flow between them.
OK, what's going on? But before she could ask, Xander had cleared his throat self-consciously.
"Um, guys? You know that whole part about not being able to find it?"
"Why?" Faith tiredly, head sunk in her hands. "You got it tucked away in a tool-box somewhere?"
"Ha! Tool-box...That's good." His nervous laughter ended with a sharp poke in the ribs from Dawn. "No, no tool-box. But we may have an idea of how to get its attention."
Now he certainly had
their attention. "How?" came a veritable chorus. Buffy's voice, though, offered up a quieter but somehow more compelling question: "Who's 'we'?"
Xander shifted nervously. "Uh, that would be the Dawnster and me," he answered, his tight grin never coming within shouting distance of his eyes.
Buffy's eyes, meanwhile, had narrowed to slits. "And just what were you discussing?"
Xander's nervous shifting had grown even more so, if that were possible. "OK, see, we were talking about all of this earlier, when we took out the trash, and we were saying how we needed to do
something, but we didn't know what, and part of why we didn't know was because we don't know how to locate it and, you know, sometimes you have to try something different, even if that sounds sorta wacky and nutty at first because--"
"Oh for heaven's sake, Xander," Dawn broke in, rolling her eyes. "The whole town's gonna die of natural causes before you get to the point. It boils down to three simple words." She looked at Buffy and drew a deep breath. "Me. Xander. Bait."
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To Be Continued