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Wordsmith
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Cordelia stood in the doorway to the library. Wes had brought out the prophesy
research again and he and Giles apparently hadn't been to bed. Giles seemed
engrossed in Spike's translation notes but Wes gave her a weary
smile as she passed by to start the morning coffee. Someone had beaten her to
the kitchen and the coffee machine burbled a greeting.
Riley poked his head out of the storage area off of the pantry and came out with a new package of paper plates. Two large boxed packages of sweet rolls from Sam's Club were stacked on the table. Cordelia opened one and helped herself to a cinnamon roll while waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.
"Who got breakfast?" she asked, hoping she sounded casual. Riley was pretty much Angel's project and Graham rarely let the young man out of his sight, but the last twenty-four hours had put an unusual amount of stress on all of them. She didn't want to seem as if she didn't trust the recovering addict, but she knew if she were him, she would have been tempted to seek some sort of comfort, or oblivion.
"We... I had trouble sleeping, so I just gave up. I knew we would need something for this horde... Graham drove... I didn't -" he said.
"I wasn't checking up - I just feel bad sticking you guys with the bills. Okay, that's so not me, but I told Angel he could pay for the rest of the week since Graham covered the caterer. Make sure you guys turn in the receipt to be reimbursed," she said, while filling her mug. Sipping the bitter black liquid she continued, "How are you? With all of this."
Riley sagged into a chair and looked up at her, "It's hard. This... you have no idea."
"Seeing Buffy?" Cordy asked.
"Buffy, Faith, Graham dealing with Buffy and Faith," Riley said, "He's pretty stressed."
"How can you tell?" she asked, with a smile.
"Very funny," Riley said.
~~~~~~
Exhausted, Angel watched from the doorway. He worried that the spell Willow
had used to gain compliance from the lawyer would tax Lilah beyond her endurance.
As she settled into a deeper sleep, Xander shuffled though the
neat outline Lindsey had made of Lilah's tale - Xander and the witches had assigned
Lindsey the role of both scribe and fact checker while they questioned the reluctant
Ms. Morgan. Sweat beaded on Lilah's upper lip but
her eyes remained closed. Tara's soothing tones murmured soft reassurances that
everything was fine. Her voice seemed to quiet the restless tossing and turning
the lawyer had done throughout Xander's inquisition. Willow was carefully rewrapping
the large uncut piece of yellow quartz she had used as a focus. Lilah had spilled
everything. She had, as if under hypnosis, answered the multitude of questions
Xander had thrown at her.
Tara and Willow each took a seat on the sofa, leaning against one another. They had done what Xander referred to as 'the core dump' in one of the unfinished suites on the third floor. They all seemed to be hovering close to the room in which they had placed the Glory-Buffy symbiont, who was now under Spike's watchful attendance.
"Well," Xander said, looking up from the notes, "that's about it. Anyone have any other questions?"
"She'll come after you, you know," Lindsey said. "She's like a pit bull."
"Cordy-like, huh?" Xander said to Lindsey with a wink. "Okay, wipe her clean and have Faith and Gunn dump her near the site," he added to Willow.
"Wipe her clean?" Angel asked, as Xander passed him on his way out into the hall.
Behind him, Angel heard Willow chanting, "Tabula rasa."
~~~~~
Buffy sat back against the headboard of the bed, blinking into the dim. She
was aware she had a guardian, silent and still, sitting off to her left. She
really hadn't paid attention to the room - now she did. It was large,
unfamiliar and furnished like some movie - an old movie. Except old movies were
in black and white and even in the subdue glow of the desk lamp she could make
out the faded gold brocade on the wall and the washed-out reds of the upholstery.
She must have been sitting a while in the broad bed, which was in an alcove
off the better-lit part of the room that was her world, as her bottom felt numb.
She couldn't remember how she had gotten here, nor how long she had been staring
at the dated furnishings. The bed shared its nook with a sturdy desk and a straight-backed
chair on one side, and an overstuffed loveseat next to a small round table on
the other. Just outside the arch that sectioned the private portion of the open
suite off from its public area were two couches and a chair around a low coffee
table. Past that grouping of furniture was a long, low bureau that had a lit
lamp with a shade of
stained glass. Buffy had been trying to figure out what kind of bug the lampshade's
brightly colored pieces were supposed to be portraying but gave up as her eyes
drifted to the door next to the bureau. It was of nondescript
wood and looked out of place next to the gilded trim and aged splendor of the
room. It had a framed yellow strip of paper containing some sort of printing.
A sleepy voice of reason in her head told her that meant this was a hotel. An
old hotel.
Pleased that she had puzzled out her surroundings, a tiny smile almost made it to her face. She was torn between sitting still longer in her quiet, dim surroundings while trying to figure just how long she had been staring at the room and bolting though that door and running for her life. Deep in her gut some instinct was screaming at her, trying to wake up that sleep voice of reason with dire threats and warnings. Adrenaline, which the sleepy part of her mind ignored like a little sister's whining, had been flooding her system ever since she had realized she wasn't alone in this quiet haven. On her right, lounging in that loveseat, was a dangerous-looking blonde man whose intelligent blue eyes hadn't left her for a moment. Something about his stillness was unnatural. Where Buffy sat quietly thinking, he stayed completely and utterly still. He hadn't moved. He hadn't blinked. He hadn't breathed since she realized he was there. Something stirred in her memory...normally the not-breathing would precede a flurry of movement and violence - but somehow she felt safe with this man. What was up with that?
As the voice of reason and the voice of instinct competed for the attention
and vied for a chance to answer that question, the door opened and a girl came
in with a silver tray. She set the tray on the bureau, between the lamp and
a large ball-like bowl which must have once held flowers. After she shut the
door she picked up her burden and brought it to the alcove. As she was placing
the tray on the table next to the loveseat, the girl shot Buffy
worried glances but spoke to the man.
"I brought coffee and juice and water and milk...she likes juice. I thought
maybe one of these might... Well, not this one, of course," the girl handed
the man a mug and was reward with a smile. He patted the seat next to him
and tucked her under one arm when she sat down. The girl sighed and rested her
head on his shoulder. The man's eyes shifted to yellow and ridges sprang forth
on his brow as he sipped from the mug.
Buffy didn't turn her head toward the couple, but watched from the corner of her eye. She was busy ignoring the voice of instinct, which was now jumping up and down, waving its arms and screaming 'told you, told you' at the top of its lungs. The voice of reason was noting how the vampire - which this man obviously was - idly stroked the girl's long hair with one hand while draining his 'victim' from a mug which said 'I brood because I know it makes me look good.'
"She's still out of it," the girl said. The vampire only answered with a nod. to the girl's statement. "Do you think her brain was damaged? You know, Glory was never too tightly wrapped."
Glory? Glory. That name seemed to bring reason and instinct both into a fighting stance, but Buffy couldn't remember who Glory was.
The girl sighed. She got up and brought a yummy-smelling mug closer and waved it slowly about eight inches in front of and below Buffy's nose. "Buffy?" The girl hardly whispered and her eyes were tearing. "It's mocha. Smell? You love mocha."
The cup was black with bright pink letters spelling 'Uberangst' and a sad, sighing bunny leaned against the 'U'. The smell stirred the most coherent memories yet. Buffy flashed on a bright sunny day, sitting across from was a bouncing redhead with happy green eyes, who was talking at an incredible rate. Then she was back in the room with the sad girl holding out the good smell. She smiled tentatively at the girl. A wide smile crossed the girl's face and she slowly brought the cup to Buffy's lips. The taste exploded across her tongue. She flashed on another sunny scene. The grass they were sitting on was cool in the shade of an ornamental tree near a red brick building, and a handsome boy with dancing chocolate eyes was laughing as he offered her half his candy bar.
The girl apparently had given up trying to get her to drink more. By the time Buffy gave up on chasing the elusive memories of the redheaded girl and the handsome boy, the girl was back on the loveseat next to the vampire. Buffy had been pulled out of her pondering of the flashes of memory by his slow, dramatic voice. His accented tones wrapped around a story that tugged at her memory as insistently as the coffee had.
"She was down. I had her at my non-existent mercy. I wanted to savor the moment. My third Slayer - struck down on her own ground... I felt like a god. I dove for the kill, ready to sink my fangs in and taste that unparalleled elixir." The vampire was sitting cross-legged and eye-to-eye with the girl, who hung on his every word.
The girl leaned forward in rapt attention, her forehead almost touching the smooth human mask of the dead man. "And then?" she asked with breathless anticipation.
"Then your mum hit me upside the head with and axe and said, 'Get the
hell away from my daughter.' Nibblet, you know this story by heart, why do you
always act like its the first time you've heard it?" There was laughing
affection in the vampire's tone and he smiled openly at the girl.
"I love this story. It's so romantic..." she said.
"It is not sodding romantic," the vampire sneered out the last word and rolled his eyes. "I got me bleeding skull cracked by a pissed-off housewife, the Slayer stopped the feast of St. Vigeous, and the Poof nanced about like the wanker he is. Where's the effin romance in that?"
"It's when Angel gave Xander to you." The girl giggled. Buffy got the impression that the girl was baiting the vampire. Her instinct said she should throw herself between the girl and the monster, but her reason said to wait and see.
Buffy's head seemed to turn of its own volition and she looked as the vampire sputtered out his reply. "Gave!? Dawn, he gave... he wanted us to eat Xander. And not in a good way, I might add. Don't you dare tell the whelp I said that! Besides, Soul Boy really wasn't givin' the boy to me... I knew that. Always could read the Poof like an open book. Great sodding fairycake." The girl raised an eyebrow and smirked at the vampire but said nothing.
Buffy looked back to the door when she heard the knob turn. In walked the boy, the handsome boy from her memory. Only he wasn't a boy. His shoulders were broader, his hair longer and there was a maturity to his face that was new to her. He was a man. How much time had passed since that sunny day under the tree? He was still handsome, but his eyes - though they still held laughter - were shaded by worry and an emotional pain she couldn't fathom.
He walked forward and put his hands in the pockets of his pants as he stood at the foot of her bed. "Hi, Buff."
She blinked and looked into his dark eyes. There was concern and unasked questions in them and she smiled. "Xander," she whispered, before she had even put the name to his face.
His smile was like the sun coming from behind a cloud. The girl, who the vampire - Spike? - had called Dawn, jumped up and grabbed Xander's arm. Dawn bounced up and down while tugging that arm with her, chanting, "She knows you! She knows you!" She stopped her impromptu celebration and turned to Buffy. "Buffy?"
Buffy was busy at the moment. The memory of Xander had been accompanied by a flood of images.
~ Flash~
Xander and her running with Willow, a name she now had for the girl in the other memory, through a cemetery.
~Flash~
Crawling frantically through air vents with monsters hot on their heels.
~Flash~
Xander looking down at her as he pinned her to the floor every muscle in his body vibrating with lust.
~Flash~
The burning pain of air being forced back into her lungs and the sick bile-like taste of death in her mouth.
~Flash~
The rage in Xander's eyes when he threatened to kill her if Willow had been hurt.
~Flash~
Xander, dressed as a soldier, beating the hell out of a pirate who had been about to rape her.
~Flash~
Xander reaching down to pull her up from the watery cage as pain ripped through the claw marks on her legs.
~Flash~
Angry words and a zombie crashing through the front window.
~Flash~
Xander, Larry and another boy laying out explosives in the library.
~Flash~
Her relief of finding Xander in the Bronze when she had been so lost and alone her first days at college.
~Flash~
Four hands placing cards into the center of a circle.
~Flash~
Xander following her from the alley to a warehouse and pulling no punches as his words lay bare her soul.
~Flash~
Xander holding Dawn beside her mother's grave.
~Flash~
Xander repairing a window she had broken.
~Flash~
A wrecking ball knocking the hellgod off her feet.
Buffy blinked. Three faces regarded her with concern. Xander had the scared-looking girl - Dawn, she reminded herself - wrapped in his arms. Buffy smiled. "Xander," she said again. "I remember you. You're my friend."
Xander smiled back. Not the blinding grin he had offered before, that seemed so much more natural to him; instead, a tired but genuine smile. "I am. I have always been and will always be your friend, Buffy." The vampire stepped closer to Dawn and Xander. Something about that seemed odd, but before she could wonder about it Xander asked, "Recognize anyone else?"
"I..." She didn't know what to say. She knew that the other two people
were called Spike and Dawn, but did that mean she recognized them? She needed
more time. She felt safe now. Unlike the confusing times she had awoken
alone in places that felt cold and malignant, this place felt restful and she
knew these people would help her until she was less confused. Leaning back,
she closed her eyes. She would answer that question when she was more sure of
how all the fragments fit together.
~~~~~~~
Gunn handed Faith the binoculars once he saw Lilah emerge from the parking garage. The tiny brunette frowned as she looked all the way across the small park they had parked beside to watch the entrance of the building. They were about a half a mile from the disaster site, close enough that Lilah could walk there if she chose but far enough to be away from the crowds.
Another one of Willow's 'little nudges' had ensured that neither Gunn's truck
nor its occupants would register on any surveillance cameras that were in the
garage. Forty minutes ago, they had driven through the parking area
and slipped Lilah, still unconscious, onto the floor between two parked SUVs.
The destruction of the building, along with it being a holiday weekend, had
kept most of the commuter traffic away, but the streets were still alive with
people. Faith passed the binoculars back to Gunn and he watched Lilah
looking around in a daze at her surroundings. She had no identification, money
or cell phone, and Willow had asked them to shadow her until she found someone
like a police officer - apparently this memory-wipe spell was
untested and Willow had wanted to err on the side of caution. So while they
were sure that Lilah would have no memory of what had happened the night before,
they were a little unclear on whether she had any idea who she was.
She started to walk in the direction of the site on which the Wolfram and Hart
building used to exist. She still cradled her hand to her chest. Gunn started
the truck and followed well back at a crawl. Lilah stumbled as she
saw, or rather didn't see, the building. She sat down on the sidewalk, mouth
open. The pedestrians stepped around her, seemingly torn between offering help
and assuming she was homeless. Her well-tailored though rumpled suit tipped
off one of the cops working crowd control and she was helped over to one of
the emergency vehicles. Gunn saw her shaking her head at the questions she was
being asked as they began to examine her.
Gunn grinned at Faith and said, "Mission accomplished."
Her answering smile lit up the cab of the truck.
"So," he asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "You want to go back and watch Angel stress over the news, or would you like to go get something to eat?"
"I vote for food," Faith laughed.
~~~~
Being dead, he shouldn't be able to get migraines. Angel sat at his desk, cradling his head in his hands. He had thought he had been prepared. Really. Not that he expected a calm week - Spike always had been poster boy for ADD and Xander had apparently kissed what little sense of self-preservation he had been born with goodbye; add Lindsey's presence to the mix and chaos was a given. Chaos was nothing compared to this.
The first floor of the hotel vibrated with the sound coming from the salle
off the lobby. It had originally been the atrium back in the Hyperion's heyday.
Boards had replaced the shattered windows over the years, and Angel
had turned the open space into a place to train Cordelia with a sword - she
had shown interest in the weapon since their ill-fated trip to Pylea. He had
been relieved when Xander had snagged his hyperactive Childe and dragged him
off to 'play'. Relieved until he realized Id Boy and his mate Destructo Man
couldn't do anything quietly, as the current guitar solo gave testament.
He thought he had anticipated the worst. That was the whole point of brooding
- to be prepared for every contingency - wasn't it? He had factored in the nebulous
prophesy and Lindsey snarking about, Riley's reluctance to face the Scoobies,
even Xander's new status as his Childe's mate. None of his careful planning
had ended with every network on television endlessly looping the mysterious
melting of a downtown LA office building into a
perfectly square pile of lava; two, count them, two, Slayers; a hellgod in residence,
and a still-unsolved prophesy.
Buffy's return had shaken everyone in different ways. Riley was practically
invisible. Faith had been wary and defensive; thankfully, Gunn had distracted
her and taken her out of the now-crowded hotel and had offered to
show her around once they got rid of Lilah. Dawn had worn herself out keeping
vigil only to have her existence called into question when Buffy didn't immediately
remember her. Angel had been treated to the real story of
the Key in Willow-babble and Xander-speak, with Spike's colorfully irate footnotes.
He was glad that Cordelia had taken the girl to her place for a lunch and a
nap. Cordelia had shown her trademark resilience to Faith's
presence and Buffy's resurrection, but she had been watching him. He didn't
know if she was waiting for a repeat to his behavior during Darla's return,
or just feeling vulnerable. He rather hoped she was feeling as possessive as
he had been when they made the trip to Sunnydale and he knew she would be seeing
her ex - before he had smelled Spike all over Xander.
Angel got up, intent on telling the mischief twins to turn down the volume.
He paused as he passed the door of the library. Giles and Lindsey were at opposite
ends of the long table with books - open and being compared or closed with white
satin ribbons marking pages - strewn between them. Lindsey was absorbed in a
heavy volume which was resting in his lap while he jotted notes on a legal pad.
The blunt, black writing didn't seem to say 'kill,
kill, kill' and when Angel gave Rupert a questioning look regarding their guest,
the Watcher just smiled and shook his head.
"How can you to get any work done with all this noise?" Angel asked.
Giles tucked his amused look back into his notes and Lindsey looked at Angel like he doubted his intelligence, more than usual. Lindsey spoke slowly, as if to a child. "That's Carlos Santana."
Knowing any reply would leave him open to ridicule by the quick-witted ex-lawyer,
and doubting his ability to keep from killing the potential participant in the
prophesy, Angel continued back to the salle. He stopped
just behind Fred, who was lurking in the shadows watching Xander and Spike prowl
around each other in slow, predatory steps as they both grinned maniacally.
In a blur that was far to quick for a human, Xander swept
Spike's legs with his left foot. Spike anticipated the move and jumped over
the kick and swung an open-handed strike at Xander's head. Xander leaned back,
just under the swing, and continued his leg-sweep a full 360 degrees to catch
Spike's ankles as he landed. The vampire came crashing down on top of the human.
They landed in a laughing heap. Spike stood and pulled Xander up. Instead of
retreating to attack again, they begin mirroring each other; as one pushed the
other's hand forward the other rolled his hand into the motion and pushed the
other's hand back.
"It's like a dance." Fred whispered.
The guitar solo ended and the words slid out of the speakers of the portable system.
"And if you say this life ain't good enough
I would give my world to lift you up
I could change my life to better suit your mood
Cause you're so smooth
And just like the ocean under the moon
Well that's the same emotion that I get from you
You got the kind of lovin that can be so smooth
Gimme your heart, make it real
Or else forget about it" [1]
On the last line, Xander grabbed Spike's wrist, pulling him off balance and then caught him as he stumbled. They stood, staring into each other's eyes, oblivious to their audience. Xander leaned forward slowly, ghosting a kiss against Spike's lips before burying his face in the blonde's neck. Inhaling deeply, the human then sighed with pleasure, eliciting an answering purr from his mate.
"Xander," Spike whispered.
Xander didn't lift his head. Instead, he sank his teeth into the corded muscle along Spike's neck, causing the vampire to throw back his head and shift to gameface.
"Xander." This time it came out as a moan.
Fred inhaled softly, jarring Angel from the scene in front of them. Her eyes
were the size of saucers and Angel could have kicked himself for not stopping
it sooner. He cleared his throat loudly. Not, however, loud enough
to compete with Carlos Santana.
"You have a room," he said, finally managing to get their attention.
"That we do, luv," Spike said with a smirk and lead his lover out of the salle at a rapid pace.
Fred frowned at Angel and then shrugged. "Dawn's right," she said. "They're so romantic."
[1] Smooth - Carlos Santana
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