Rising from the Wreckage

Disclaimer: The characters and show all belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui, et al. No copyright infringement was intended. The storyline, however, is the sole property of the author. This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use only and must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.

Summary: Buffy and Tara share some dinner and come to an understanding while Giles goes to bring back Willow without anyone knowing.

"All right is that everything?" Giles eyed the small collection that constituted Willow's meager possessions. Willow nodded and smirked, her red hair dancing in the night, the ceiling lights of the Hyperion Arms glinting off the scarlet tresses. The young girl felt buoyant again as well as trepidation at the thought of returning to her real home, to her family. Sighing she looked at the backpack and her small handbag.

"Mhm. I didn't have much with me, in fact I have even less now." Giles leaned in and tried to take the backpack, but Willow pulled it casually out of his reach, and shrugged it over one shoulder, her hand already on the strap of the handbag. Then walking slowly to the front door of the hotel, they strode out into the balmy night air. Wesley held the door open and everyone filed out.

A truck pulled up to the curb, and the door popped open, Gunn almost falling out of the vehicle. Willow and Giles' departure momentarily forgotten, the friends all raced to the driver's side door of the battered pickup. Fred gasped at the amount of blood and gore that covered him, but he held up a hand and grinned.

"Hey it's all right. None of it's mine, I just had a ... run-in with this purple guy with snakehead dreadlocks. Wanted me to know the day was nigh or somethin'. Then he started layin' into me with a scimitar. I'm not sure what happened but I took the sword away from him and ..." he looked down at his torn and bloodied clothing. "... I hate my dry cleaning bills." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"And you reek, god what was it?" Angel screwed up his nose. "That's some message he left on you."

"Purple, dreadlocks, snake head hair, sounds like one of the medusae demons, possibly the Maedar. I'll look into it when we go back inside." Wes mused. Giles nodded.

"Yes quite possibly. They are the foundation of the legends on earth of the medusae of Greek mythology, the maedar being the male equivalent, much less dangerous, without the effects of uh ... turning you to stone with it's gaze, and so on."

"No they just hack you into fishfood." Cordelia observed sarcastically. "A much better, less dangerous way to be killed." Fred looked at Cordy and shook her head in disbelief.

"you're sure you are ok?" Charles nodded and licked his gore covered lips, grimacing as he tasted foulness. He spat.

"Yeah jus' tired. Need something to drink too." Fred nodded and sidled up to Gunn, putting herself under his arm to help take some of his weight. Charles looked down and smiled, but didn't object. Angel sniffed and looked around.

"Willow's going back to Sunnydale, Giles has come to drive her home, they have a crisis there they need her for." Gunn looked up and nodded at the red-head.

"Hey girl, you know you're always welcome back. If you need a break again sometime, come see us, you know where we are." He extracted himself from Fred's shoulder and made a move forward. Willow leaned forward and lightly hugged him, trying to avoid the worst of the mess on his clothes. "Oh ... sorry, forgot." Charles looked down and smiled sheepishly at the Wiccan. Willow grinned back and nodded. Turning to Fred she gave the little woman a small but heartfelt hug.

"You take care of yourself, hear?" Fred said in her drawl. She patted Willow's back in friendship. Willow nodded and pulled back.

"I will, count on it." she said a little hoarsely. Turning to Wesley Willow grinned at the Englishman and walked forward. Wesley in his typically awkward fashion, hugged the red-head and found it difficult to feel comfortable within her grasp, but valiantly he tried to reciprocate her enthusiasm, and patted her softly on her shoulder.

"Be careful Willow." he whispered to her. She looked up and into his eyes, and saw they were misted behind the glasses, his mouth quirked in a sad smile. After a brief pause, she turned to Angel. She walked forward, and threw herself into his opened arms. The vampire looked around the group a little awkwardly, and licked his lips in his trademark way, but his arms were strong around her, and his grip one of warmth and familiar friendship. Willow pulled herself into his grip, her face pressed into his chest.

"Thanks for being here." The red-head whispered softly. Angel leaned down and pressed his mouth close to Willow's ear.

"Me too, it means a lot." After some moments, the red-head extricated herself from Angel's arms. She turned to look at Cordy. At once, her face flushed red and she smiled. Cordelia took one step forward and met Willow in the middle of the group. Their arms about each other more closely than they would have believed possible before Willow's visit.

Cordy kissed Willow's cheek lightly and she pressed their faces together, arms tightly about the Wiccan, her mouth whispering soft words only meant for Willow's ear.

"I didn't ever think we would be like this. But I'm glad it happened. And ... I wouldn't object if it happened again." Willow smiled at the words and nodded. In her own mind she thought it had been nice too, but somehow doubted it would re-occur. Not if things between Tara and herself could be patched up.

"Why don't you come back to Sunnydale sometime, and visit? I'm sure we could use your help around there, the visions and ... stuff."

"Oh count on it, I'll be back some time, but I'm needed here, there's so much ... so much bad that happens around here. I finally feel I have something to offer the world, something to give back. I'm not ... well not quite the Cordelia Chase you grew up with."

"Hey I know that, I can see you've grown ... you're a uh ... you're a much ... uh ..." Cordy chuckled at Willow's sudden awkwardness.

"Better person? Not quite as selfish, or naive, or two dimensional?" Willow said nothing, thinking she'd upset the brunette. Cordy just smiled and sighed. "Don't worry, you can say it, I know it, and I know what I was like. I'll tell you what probably isn't much of a secret ... I didn't much like me either while I was growing up. But I'm finally starting to learn to like me now." Willow looked into Cordy's eyes and saw sadness there but something else, something grand and wise and powerful. She nodded and smiled back.

"Tell Dennis about me leaving, I didn't get to say goodbye to him." Willow said softly. Cordy nodded and smiled, letting her arms drop. Giles made the rounds giving perfunctory handshakes uncomfortably. Willow looked at Giles and smiled softly.

"Uh yes ... all right." He walked over to the passenger side of the car and held the door open for Willow, who tossed the backpack and handbag into the backseat, then seated herself. Giles closed the door with a thud. Turning around he looked at Angel. "I'll write or phone soon about ... about what happens. Be prepared, I might need you to come to Sunnydale and help out, your ah ... your expertise is welcome in this." Angel stared at Giles and nodded, then turned his nose towards Gunn again and frowned. Gunn held out his hands in exasperation.

"Hey I know! I stink, all right? I'm changing after this. Jus' let me get to the shower." Angel turned back to see Giles stepping into the drivers side of the car, and turning over the engine in the night, lights flicking on, Giles slowly pulled away from the curb.

"I know you can smell blood so much more clearly than us, but I can't say I can smell Gunn that much." Wes stepped up and said as Angel stood watching the tail lights of the car pull away into the distance, waving his hand.

"I know but there's something really bad about that smell, it's not the usual blood and guts you get when you dice up demons, it's ... something ..." he shook his head slowly. "I can't explain it, it smells ... more ... evil, somehow." He turned to Gunn. "Give the clothes to Wes and Fred afterwards, see if they can find out why they smell so bad." Gunn shrugged and began walking back towards the Hyperion Arms. The others, not finding the car any more in the sea of tail lights, also turned to walk into the hotel. Angel stood for moments, pensive as if in deep thought, then shrugging his shoulders he too turned and walked inside the hotel, a step behind Cordy.

"So Cordelia ..." Angel said quietly. "What was it that happened between you and Willow, that you wouldn't mind happening again?" Cordy looked acidly at the vampire as she stepped through the hotel door. Angel smirked silently and stepped in after her, letting the door close behind him.

The shadows of the alleyway beside the hotel seemed momentarily to waver and shake, and then from out of the darkness, tendrils of what looked like multi-colored flesh roped their way around the corner, seeming to watch the back of the vampire as he retreated inside the hotel. The tendrils snaked around and seemed to grip the abutments and recesses of the hotel, leaving swaths and smears of dark colors in their wake, drips of ichor and gore as they clung to the rough surface of the building. Incongruously, the shape seemed to morph and pull itself along on fingers, toes and tendrils, exposing itself to the dim lighting outside the hotel. Heads, human heads, a dozen or more, seemed to swivel and turn as they took in everything around them, leg and arm bones, ribcages, gristle and other projections angling out of the mass at bizarre angles, other organs and vessels hanging loose and trailing as the vile mass of flesh pulled itself along almost silently, the fingers and toes holding clawlike to any projection they could find on the building, the heads swiveling and jaws snapping almost silently in the night, the liquid noises of intestines and blood vessels gripping the walls and sliding on the surface like grotesque creeping vines. The fleshy mass clung to the wall and dozens of eyes pushed their way through the skin surface of the putrescent, rotting body made up of a dozen or more split open and mutilated human carcasses blending into one reeking mass, and stared through the windows into the interior of the Hyperion, madness and unbelievable suffering in their bloody and rheumy orbs.

"So ... what's the skinny?" Willow said quietly after she had taken a sip from a bottle of water, while Giles gunned the car towards Sunnydale.

"The sk ... uh ... oh ... right, the ... skinny, well as I said to you we seem to have a major crisis, and it's probably best I tell you about it when we get to Sunnydale." Giles looked sideways at Willow who seemed to stare into the distance. "How are you really?" He ventured quietly as he flicked on the indicators and turned onto the lane he needed.

"Oh ... I suppose in general I'm fine, scared to death but I'm ok. I ..." Willow sighed and seemed to sag into the car seat. "I'm worried about what's going to happen, about ... about what everyone is going to say. It'll be all awkward and 'Ohhhh ... we can't say anything to upset Willow so we'd better talk about nice things otherwise she'll turn us all into ... into kittens and puppies.' and then ..." the red-head drifted off to silence, Giles smiling at the image in spite of himself.

"No Willow, I will be most surprised if that's what will happen. You have seen the letters and heard the words, but you have so little idea of the ... of the anguish everyone is feeling because you're not there." Willow looked at Giles and he glanced sideways briefly before taking his eyes back to the road. "I'm not going to say it'll be instant comfort and pleasantries, but ... well you know the way we all feel about you. And there is time for healing." He lapsed to silence for a moment, picking his words carefully among the many his mind dredged up to tell her. "They ... we missed you very much, but we knew it had to be your choice to either remain here to sort out your thoughts and feelings, or to return. We'd hoped to leave you alone long enough to let you do that, but right now it can't be helped, we need you badly." Willow sighed and nodded.

"I know, you need the big bad bitch with the Wicca attitude because of some b..."

"NO!" He cut her words off sharply. "N ... uh ... no that's not why we need you back. Although right now I think some ... bad bitch Wicca power might not go astray either." Giles waited a moment to let Willow interject if she needed to, but the red-head remained silent, so he continued. "I won't go into it too much here but ... well there is a prophecy ... and yes I know, another one. but it seems to revolve around ..." he briefly licked his lips and thought of what and how much he should say. "... around the three of you." Willow looked sideways at him and noticed he was concentrating furiously on the road in front of him.

"Three ... of ... of us?" Giles didn't register or say anything. "Which three, I mean ... obviously me and who else, Buffy, Dawn, Tara, who?"

"Uh ... you, Buffy and ... Tara. The prophecy speaks of ..." Giles mind floundered for some other way of saying it, but failed. "... of the three bound by love." The watcher kept his eyes on the road, not letting his vision waver from his chosen path. Willow looked at him for some seconds then turned back and also stared out at the night in front of her, streams of red drifting like ribbons of light leading her back through the darkness to who knows what back in Sunnydale.

"How ... wh ... I mean what if ... if Tara ... if ... ohh ... " Suddenly the implication of his words sank in and Willow drifted to silence. Giles softened his stare and drifted his eyes sideways for a brief moment, compassion written in the features of his face, his voice soft and gentle.

"Tara is waiting for you, Buffy too, in fact they all are, waiting and hoping that you will return. They want you back very much Willow. We are all much better with you there, than without you. But I had to bring you home, I can see what's coming, and ..." He swallowed down guilt. "... and I couldn't wait for that, soon as I was able I drove up here." Willow seemed not to understand. "If ... if I had told them I was coming to bring you back home, they would have attempted to stop me." Finally the words seemed to make sense to the red-head, she nodded.

"But ..." Willow had begun shaking softly. "Uh ... th .. the th ... three bound by love? That sounds a little bit ..." Giles turned to look at her briefly, and smiled nervously.

"Yes it does, doesn't it?" His heart raced furiously as his mind tried to find something relevant to say.

"But ... uhh ... it's Buffy, she's ... she's not ... and I mean Tara, and I, we ... did, I mean we have ... we've ... what if ..." Willow sighed and whimpered. "Oh Giles, I don't know if I can do this. I mean, Buffy might be so disgusted with me, with this ... this whole thing. And Tara is still upset with me or I expect her to be, especially since I ran away."

"Willow, it's best not to worry about it now, at least try to worry less about it, if you can. Until we get there, and you all speak to one another, this is all conjecture. but I feel somehow, that everything will be all right, everything will work out fine."

"Huh, that's easy for you to say ..." pouted the Wiccan. "... you're not the one about to be flayed alive by Buffy." Giles looked at her at that and chuckled.

"Trust me, I am still smarting from ... some of the truths that Buffy told me upon my return. It will be some time before the salt comes out of the wounds."

The salad had been fine, the sauce had been salvageable, but the spaghetti itself had been a total loss, a chunk of gluggy mess sitting heavily in the bottom of the saucepan. Tara had quickly tossed it in the bin and cooked up a fresh batch. Soon enough the smells of the cooking drew Buffy down the stairs again, fully dressed and favoring her side a little, her nose twitching like a rabbit. She grinned at Tara.

"Oh your pasta was always to die for, and my stomach's gone into overdrive." The blonde witch laughed a little nervously and hid behind her long hair.

"Well I'm glad you'll have a big appetite, cause I think I cooked a bit too much for us both. But we can leave some for later, for the others ... for Dawn." Buffy nodded and dipped a finger into the sauce, licking it off appreciatively.

"Mhm. Dawn likes your spaghetti too. but you know, she was going over to Janet's tonight so I don't think you'll see her until tomorrow sometime." Tara nodded and drizzled a little dried thyme into the sauce, stirred it briefly and dipped a finger in to taste.

"Uhuh." She acknowledged. "Well it might be ok for tomorrow, it's all fresh, apart from the dried herbs." Taking the bubbling sauce off the flame, she turned the gas top off, and stood, silent for a moment, then said almost in a whisper "She ... she liked my spaghetti sauce too." A sudden sadness seemed to settle over the Wiccan. Buffy walked up behind her and took the pot out of her hand, placing it back on the stove. She turned Tara to face her.

"Willow will be fine, we all will, it might need a little time and understanding from everyone, but it will be good in the end, trust me. They all accepted me when I was dumb enough to run away, I came back and they gave me a chance. That's what will happen now. Everyone should just be calm and cool about this and let Will come back and give her some space, give her breathing room." The slayer ran her hand down Tara's face, her fingers gently stroking her cheek. "Except you. You go to her and make things work out, as they should be. She'll be feeling pretty vulnerable right now, and she needs someone to hold on to." Tara looked at Buffy and pouted slightly. She had felt wonderful in so many ways a very short time ago, and it was something she did not wish to relinquish. Buffy saw the look and recognized the significance. "Tara, she needs you. Now possibly more than she ever did." Buffy smiled at the witch and pulled her into a hug. "There's lots of time to work out us, what this is all about. After all, Giles ranted on about that 'three bound by love' or whatever it was in the prophecy. THAT'S got me shaking in my boots. I can hardly ever keep one, let alone have two ... two people in love, be in love with two ... too. Two people. Be love, loved ... oh god. I sound like Willow!" Tara laughed and snorted at the word soup. She leaned forward and kissed Buffy on the cheek.

"Well I think you're adorable, especially when you're thrown by something ... not literally thrown but ... ya know ... uh ...as in confused." Buffy looked chagrined at the blonde Wiccan.

"Adorable? I haven't been called that in oh ... well never in fact! Anyway Anya's apparently convinced you and I are almost married already so if that's anything to go by ..."" Tara pushed herself away briefly.

"Can talk about this while we eat? My stomach is trying to eat my spine." Buffy looked at the witch and smiled.

"Mine too. Ok, I think for this meal at least, a glass of red wine is in order. Call it ... a celebration." Tara nodded in agreement, and began piling the freshly cooked spaghetti onto plates at the breakfast bar while Buffy rummaged through a cupboard for some wine glasses.

A darkened corridor stretched out and the soft carpet muffled the footsteps of someone dressed in an immaculate Italian dress suit.

"It is nearly time, the supreme one comes. Are all preparations in order?" The voice was like the shattering of icebergs, cold and devastating.

"Yes sire, the plans are all coming to fruition." The soft sibilant voice answered back nervously. The pale moonlight filtering through the diaphanous curtains draping the floor to ceiling windows, cast the speakers into grotesque silhouettes in the darkness. One had horns almost a foot long coming from a massive head, the Italian suit incongruous on it's twisted body, hooves trampling the soft carpet heavily as it strode back and forth. The other almost human, but misshaped, lumpy and unsymmetrical, it's body shambling along behind the first.

"And the todal, has it done its work?" The other remained silent for moments, then again in a nervous and shaky voice answered.

"No sire, it has not, but the evening is early still. It is but a moment in time, and the demoness shall soon be asleep, we can capture her then while she sleeps and dreams, and we can slay the others."

"See that it is so, or I shall personally feed you to the todal myself." The other whimpered.

"Yesss sire. It shall be as you say sire." Silence again in the darkness. Fingers rummaged in a coat pocket and withdrew an object almost like a watch, but made of rotating rings of gold and gems, cunningly crafted and driven by magic, glowing softly in the darkness. It's rings and gems rotated and spun in different directions and different speeds. The black clawed hands closed the lid of the sorcerous clock, and replaced it in the pocket of it's immaculate, very expensive, Italian suit. Two pinpoints of lambent white light spat furiously out of the darkness, malice and power a tangible force.

Main What's New Fiction by Author Fiction by Pairing eBooks

Subject Index Submissions Gallery Forums Links Awards Contact Us

If you find problems on these pages please email your host.

Rising from the Wreckage

Chapter 17

By Stefan

Nagarek@optusnet.com.au