Spikeid VII
Yep, we're back on the road with the next three books! The other two for this section are in beta, so I think it's time we pootled on. :) (Even if it is Saturday night; I'm in the mood for achieving something, so humour me here...) Big thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brutti_ma_buoni and ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
verity for beta-ing this!!
As always - Spuffy-gen; PG-13; ~4000 words (~520 lines); warnings for the series of death and denied agency, with only brief mentions in this book. (There is also, dare I say it, a dragon...)
The group return to the shelter, where someone unexpected is waiting.
[VI]
VII
Hey, Calliope, it’s Quinara here;
Just thought I’d try to get in touch again,
Because you never answered when I called
Before? At least, I never felt it when
The ‘spiring came in… And, like, I don’t
Mean to be rude, but now I’m halfway through
It’s getting slightly late to intervene
If I’ve cocked up. There’s fun stuff on the cards,
Since Spike & Co. now have a clearer view
Of how the portal works – more magic plus
Illyria, some extra special guests,
Including one whom I think people miss –
So anytime you felt like chiming in,
Well, I’d be glad to have your thoughts, and I
Will take on board suggestions that you have.
If what I’ve got is not your cup of tea,
I s’pose we’ll have to go our separate ways…
“So, tell me, what’s the plan here, bro?” Rondell
Is asking, looking up at Gunn as they
Both fold the laundry set in front of them:
Dark clothes and grey-brown linen bandages,
A heap piled on the table, warm and dry,
But old and overused. “Your vampire friend,
He thinks it’s gonna change things if we know
Exactly who we’re fighting?” “Well.” Gunn shrugs.
“It should.” He’s filled another first aid box
With bandages, so sets that to the side
And pulls another forward to be filled.
“If we know where we’ve been connected to
Then we can figure out the rules, maybe,
You know, fight back, close off the portal, or –”
Rondell looks sceptical, not sure how well
He’d say he knows Charles Gunn these days. “Or what?”
Gunn smiles. “I guess I never told you what I got
Put in my brain when we were at the firm…
A lawyer’s head of knowledge, bro – enough
To get me through negotiations, sure,
With any world Wolfram and Hart might know.
And I’ve been thinking I could use it here,
If they make contact with the other world.”
A moment passes so Rondell can think;
He thinks he sees the thoughts Gunn has in mind,
Strange, foreign knowledge from a rich man’s brain,
Implanted over streetwise, savvy nerve.
“I always wondered when that boss of yours
Would say that you weren’t good enough for him.”
There’s silence for another moment – then
Gunn snorts, pitched dark and unamused. “Truth is,”
He says, “That Angel didn’t know a thing.
I woulda sold my soul to get my brain
Like this, to keep it in my head when I –
Could feel it slipping through my sorry grip…
I should have sold my soul instead of what
I did.” Rondell is unimpressed, looks back
To threadless cotton, says, “You sold your soul
To buy a truck, so don’t try talk to me
About how special your new knowledge is.”
Now Gunn is laughing, though his tone won’t change,
“You weren’t complaining when I brought it home!”
“We needed wheels,” Rondell replies, succinct
As he remembers all the simpler days,
When wheels and weapons were all they would need.
There’s times he can’t believe how much has changed.
And that’s when Anne comes over, trading words
With others fixing things and playing cards
Before she sits with them, by folded clothes.
“Soup’s cooking now,” she says and brushes hair
Out of her face as she sits back and sighs.
“It’s late, I should have put it on before,
But we can eat when everybody’s back…
Now, I heard laughing; what’s the funny, guys?”
Rondell sidesteps, explains instead, “Gunn thinks
That we can use diplomacy to win
The war; if we can figure who they are,
The demons – he thinks we can talk to them.”
“Hey, hey,” Gunn interrupts. “We might not win –
I mean…” His words thud dully for a beat,
But then he carries on, “It might not make
Us win, but it might do some good, you know?
Make things a little clearer if it’s not that they’re
Like normal demons in our world. I mean,
The portal’s messing with LA and us,
Am I right? So maybe what we’ve got, it goes
Both ways. If there’s a world up there with them,
Why wouldn’t they co-operate with us
To shut the portal and get back our lives?”
“He’s got a point,” Anne says, turned to Rondell,
Who shakes his head. “I shouldn’t be surprised;”
He comments then, “you always were the one
Who loved that touchy-feely talking shit.”
Gunn grins, “I think I need that written down…”
Rondell shakes out a shirt with force, but smiles.
“Of course,” he says, “It’s all irrelevant
Until the raiding gang comes back with news.”
As if on cue, however, suddenly
The doorbell rings, unbroken even now,
And everyone looks up. “They got a key?”
Rondell asks Anne, who frowns and nods as she
Starts dimming lanterns on the tabletop.
Gunn wheels around the sofa to the stairs,
The weapons stored on shelves out of the way.
Two crossbows on his lap he goes to Anne
And arms her, like himself, to guard Rondell,
Who signals silently to everyone,
Gets them alert and takes in hand a sword.
The doorbell rings again, resounding shrill;
Rondell does not adjust his careful pace.
Until the lights are dimmed enough that they’re
In almost-darkness, like the outside world,
He does not open up their sanctuary.
With rough-built antechamber open, then
They hold their breath, the squeaking of the door
The only sound before –
– “…there’s no one here.”
The murmured voice is coming from outside;
It cuts to silent shock. Rondell speaks first,
They hear, his voice pitched low but deadly firm,
“You got ten seconds ‘fore I slam this door:
Who are you and how d’you find out ‘bout us?”
“Um, OK – hi!” another voice comes, soft
And femininely pitched. “Is Buffy there?
Because, see, I’m a friend of hers, did a
Locator spell to find – it brought me here?”
“Look, guy,” the other (woman’s) voice cuts in,
“We come in peace, OK, so let us in
And we can talk about it off the street.”
Rondell seems to deliberate, but says,
“All right,” before the shuffling footsteps move.
Two doors are shut and then the light returns,
Called up in scattered spots across the room.
Gunn isn’t really sure who he expects,
But as the women enter he can tell
His eyes grow wide. “Oh, hey, it’s you!” he says.
“You gave back Angel’s soul.” And had a crush
On Fred, if he remembers right. “What’s up?”
Remembering him also, Willow says
(Of course that’s who it is), “Oh, hey! I’m good.”
She smiles, but not that wide, the lantern light
Not flattering across the lines that strain
Her face; Gunn wonders what her story is.
“I need to introduce myself, I guess,”
She carries on, “And Kennedy, but, um…”
She pauses, looking round, locks eyes again
And asks Rondell, “D’you mind if I sit down?”
He waves her to a sofa, where she falls
As though she hasn’t slept in weeks, and then
She asks, “Was Buffy here before, at least?
Because I didn’t think my spell went wrong…”
Anne clarifies, “She isn’t here right now,
But she’ll be back; they had a job to do.”
Across downtown and cold, hard tarmac roofs,
Gurpreet can feel resistance as she tugs
And pulls the vampire back along the thread
The spell kept hooked on him. He’s coming back,
But slowly, gathering speed not ‘cause of her;
It’s probably more to do with Buffy’s help.
But then, she could have guessed that anyway,
Since none of them have spoken to this guy
And he’s not really looked at them. He’s meant
To be a hero, that’s what Buffy said;
Gurpreet, though, heard the story differently –
Like, all the Slayers, they were doing fine,
But then this guy, he blew the town to dust
Just so his memory got all the rep.
If Buffy has a Billy Idol crush,
Fair play to her, but how’s he gonna help?
You can’t exactly blow this city up,
Since they don’t know how many are still here –
And even then the demons would come down.
As Spike appears at last before Gurpreet,
She doesn’t smile at him, just wonders this,
While he, for his part, nods in gratitude.
“Hey, thanks for that, guys,” Buffy tells them too,
Cross-legged in front of Sadie. “How’d you know
We needed rescuing?” Gurpreet looks back
And gestures to the God-King fighting filth,
“It was Illyria,” she says, “she said.”
Spike snorts in front of her. “Mayhap there’s hope
For Bluebell yet.” Gurpreet can’t tell if he
Appreciates the irony – since there
Was hope for him, presumably, before.
“We’re glad you both are back,” Elise says,
While Sadie, tremulous, agrees, and then
They’re up and running, pulling back away
From all the demons on the rooftop. What
Is strange, Gurpreet thinks, looking round, is how
The demons let them go: they’re parting seas
Almost, still hassling their scrapping rear,
But leaving them a clear and open path
Towards the fire escape, their scrabbling claws
And whipping wings all clustering away,
When anyone can see that they’ve control,
Could cut their passage off and make them fight
To force their way back down towards the street.
Do demon armies war with strategy?
But then, who cares about that crap? She’s back
In step with Xiao, boots brightly clattering
In rhythm down the rain-wet metal stairs
Before they’re marching through the streets again.
That Jade, the leader of the shelter’s gang,
Is at the front with all her team, while they
Are following behind right at the back,
With Buffy and the pair of randomers
Between their groups. It doesn’t make much sense,
Gurpreet thinks, having stronger people there,
But maybe they’re still knackered from the trip?
The quiet quick reclaims the LA night,
The way it does, so soon the only sound
Is sheeting rain, still beating grey and blue
Along the roads and windows, people’s hoods,
And gushing silver down the curbsides, black
In splashes under boots and curls of grime.
But not for long – soon something’s making noise;
Attack is coming, even though they were
Allowed escape before. It’s Kadriye
Who hears a whisker-snap of noise and squeaks,
“Elise!” – quietly, so they don’t give
Themselves away. Elise hears and looks,
Starts tapping others on the shoulder, thinks
She hears a sighing swish not far from them.
There’s something in the air, some streets away.
Gurpreet gets tapped and frowns, a bit confused,
But then Elise cups her ear and points –
She pauses, listens, then agrees the noise
Means something’s on its way. She moves to tap
On Mina’s arm, on Buffy’s, but –
– bright blasts
Behind; abandoned cars explode, consumed
By flame and light, the crossroads lit
With orange, yellow, white, two blocks away.
There’s something flying, shadow black, which snakes
Through all the light and flame, its silhouette
Sharp lines of scaly wings and lizard’s head.
It’s screaming at them, screeching high and shrill;
Gurpreet can hear that Buffy’s shouting too,
That everybody’s shouting panicked shouts,
Instructions – but she can’t make out a word.
All she can hear is how the dragon screams;
All she can see is how the dragon rears.
She knows the flames are coming (she is good
With fire), knows that they’re fenced in by cars –
The light is still so bright behind the beast,
Flames lapping at its wings like wicked tongues –
This isn’t any time for blades or bolts,
There’s instinct in her tells her that, but this
Will not be how it ends, she knows that too.
The dragon takes a breath; Gurpreet can feel
Soft whispers of the curling air disturbed
By how it breathes. Her hands reach out. They meet
Two other stretched out hands and clasp them tight,
Elise, right, and Sadie on her left –
That girl is always where she needs to be,
Though half the time she seems invisible.
Time slows and she commands the dragon, “Freeze!”
The spell does not feel as it usually does,
But she is sick of LA’s remixed energy,
So pushes on, weaves binds to hold the fire
Within the dragon’s mouth, its burning chest.
Yet as she weaves the binds her fingers slip;
Elise said that things were shifted here
And she can feel it, like the flesh does not
Exist beneath her fingers. Placing bonds
Around the dragon’s mouth, there’s nothing there,
Not even in this spell-cast astral plane.
She tries to find more purchase, concentrates,
But then there is a flex of energy.
The spell morphs in her hands, her fingers sink
Into the mind of this black beast and she
Starts seeing visions of the dragon’s thoughts,
A sharp and staggering enlightenment.
There’s names and places, memories and pain;
The world is strange here, lonely and confused
And dark, so very dark, and hellish loud.
They’ve tried to make a stable, quiet space
Beneath the swirling world well so that they
Can architect the portal’s close, yet still,
Although they’ve forced so many back from them,
The one whose hair is white is pushing on,
Has brought the others back and will invade.
That hero is the –
– Spike. Gurpreet reclaims
Herself and realises that’s who she sees.
The demons, they’ve all seen him charging round
And waving swords their way, not greeting them
When they were plunged into this awful world
With anything but hate and violence.
He’s killing off their noble generals,
Elite and honoured dragons – or, you know,
Whatever they all are back in their world.
And she can see him, menacing approach
Towards the portal, all that’s bright and sharp,
Just cleaving through their forces, cutting down
One dragon right below the portal’s sight
And leaving it for them to see its corpse,
A chilling threat to everyone who comes.
She knows it probably didn’t go that way
From Spike’s perspective – even if he seems
A little arrogant to her with all
The leather and the sultry silences
While he looks angst-filled, stuck at Buffy’s side –
But through the dragon’s eyes that’s what she sees.
The older leader people, with their war,
They’re doing this whole thing all wrong, she thinks,
And not, like, in the way where she just rants
To Mina or to Xiao, who usually
Has also got ideas on why they’re wrong,
But in the way where she’ll have to speak up.
Because she’s sure they’ll work it out eventually,
But if she doesn’t say then they’ll just ask
The reason why she never said before.
Refusing to believe they’d say ‘yeah, yeah’
And do whatever anyway.
That thought
Set strong and final in her mind, Gurpreet
Retreats back into her own human brain.
She opens both her eyes, shakes loose her hands
From Sadie’s and Elise’s grip, looks up
Towards the dragon, mouth and chest still bound
Against producing fire. It fills the road,
Its wings furled close in rigid, jutting folds,
Which angle back up claws past scaly spine.
It doesn’t look as lonely as it feels,
Its eyes are huge and trained on her yet still,
And burning wrecks of cars are licking flames
Against the grey façades and blown out fronts
Of empty shops – charred shutters, shattered glass.
The smell of burning plastic, petrol, oil
Is curling up her nose like nothing else,
Enough to make you think war’s being waged.
There’s Buffy’s call behind her then, “Gurpreet!
Are you OK? What did you do to it?”
She glances to the dragon, then she turns,
Tells Buffy, “It was meant to be a spell
To stop it spitting fire, innit, but
The forces made it come out wrong, so I
Got lost and started feeling in its head…”
She breathes more nasty smell and has to say,
“And, like, it doesn’t want to kill us all –
I mean, it thinks that we’re attacking it,
Or, like, that – Spike and us are killing them
When they’re the ones who found themselves lost here.
I think we need to change our plan, or… Yeah.”
Conviction fades as she looks round and feels
The way that everybody looks at her.
Yeah, Buffy’s frowning seriously, but
She doesn’t look quite as surprised and shocked
As how Gurpreet imagined she would look.
“You do believe me, though?” she asks, annoyed,
And Buffy nods. “Sure, I believe you – but…”
She sighs, eyes glancing up as if unsure
What she should say. “Nobody ever thinks
That they’re the bad guy,” she continues, “right?
So even demons who get off on it,
The being evil, it makes sense to them.”
Then Buffy’s eyes shift to the right, to Spike;
He reassures her with a nod. Gurpreet
Can feel the urge to backchat, even as
There comes another affirmation, “Yeah,”
From Sadie on her right, but still she lets
The other Slayer carry on, “I guess
I mean I’m not surprised by what you felt –
Because that’s kinda how it always goes –
But our problem isn’t how they feel,
It’s that we need to get the city back
And currently they’re fighting so we can’t.”
Her eyes are really earnest now; despite
The way her hair is plastered flat
Against her head, despite her anorak,
Still Buffy sounds experienced and sure.
“But I don’t think they want to fight,” Gurpreet
Replies, convinced the dragon wasn’t bad
Inside. “Well, if we can make contact, then
Of course we’ll try to talk things out instead.”
So Buffy offers up a compromise.
Gurpreet can’t tell if she’s been listened to;
The clarity of what she meant to say
Has faded since she opened up her eyes,
But even so, she doesn’t get a chance
To argue anymore, as Jade speaks up, voice fraught,
“Hey, we can talk about this when we’re back,
OK? It’s time that we got off the streets.”
And that’s enough to make them carry on,
Drop off into the side streets, out of sight –
Gurpreet looks back once more before they go,
Meets gazes with the dragon one last time,
Takes in its black and silenced form again
Before it spreads its jointed wings and flies.
And then she concentrates on getting home.
On getting back to shelter, Buffy’s plan
Is that they’ll all sit down and talk it out,
With her, Spike and Illyria sat down
And filling in Rondell and Jade and Gunn,
As well as anybody else who cares,
About the world they found beyond the sky.
They’ll make a plan, be sure to ask Gurpreet
To tell them what she learned – though Buffy’s not
Entirely certain they can find a way
To speak to demons who, in their own world,
Attack by making noise, communicate
Presumably in ways they couldn’t sense.
Though maybe someone else has an idea?
Of course, when they return, thought flits away
And is replaced by nothing but the sight
Of Willow standing there with Kennedy,
Who’s sunned herself a deep and golden tan.
She can’t say anything and Willow seems
To chicken out of starting things herself.
Resolving finally the silence, Anne
Cuts through the tension, says, “Who’s up for soup?”
They sit and eat, but Buffy doesn’t speak,
Not even as the others fill the air
With conversation, soothes herself instead
With hot, thick sustenance that drives away
The chill left by the rain in sodden clothes.
Eventually she marshals up her thoughts
And works out how it is she wants to act.
It’s late, but, yeah, she wants some answers, asks
“So where exactly was it that you were?”
As she puts down her soup spoon, lifts her head
To glare at Willow, curled up snug and small
Across the table. “Hope you both had fun,
You know, when you were taking in the sights
Instead of being where we needed you.”
The words appear to bullseye right on aim:
They stop all other conversation there
As Willow sits up in her seat, eyes wide
As she looks back, “Is that what you assumed?”
Her voice is soft and scared; still Buffy glares.
“I didn’t mean to make it sound like I,
Like we were going on vacation, did –
Is that the way it sounded when we spoke?”
Not letting up, she counters with “That’s what you said.
You told me in that nasty Motel 6
That you and Kennedy were gonna get
Away and take a break and see the sights,
Because you hadn’t any time before.”
Now Kennedy is perched by Willow’s side,
Eyes smouldering like coals as Will insists,
“I never said that! Why d’you think I’d say
Something as horrible as that? I mean,
I get – ” She laughs, a little strength in her,
“I get that that’s exactly what you thought
You’d earned to do with Spike by then, but that –”
“Oh no,” now Buffy interrupts. “You don’t,
Don’t even… You don’t get to say that it’s
Some kind of weird projection thing, that it’s
Because I heard what you were saying wrong.
Because you didn’t tell me where you went,
So maybe you did better covering
Or tried to say it nicer, but no way
Did you not want to get away from us.”
In face of Buffy’s anger Willow wilts,
But shakes her head, refusing to accept
That’s what she did – and Buffy can’t quite stand
To see her do it; anger’s flooding in
And filling her with noise and burning rage.
“If you’d have been there then you could have helped;
D’you know how many girls were injured? Killed?
And Giles –” Her voice breaks, dammit, yet again,
But she continues, “Where were you for that?
You should have been there, should have helped – it’s you
Osiris knows, has dealt with in the past –
It’s you. You should have stopped it happening.”
The other woman’s eyes are filled with tears.
Soft words, “I wish I’d been there with you all,”
They whisper from her mouth as she looks down
Towards the carpet, red hair hanging limp
Around her ears and chin. The others there,
They probably have sympathy for her
Because she does pathetic oh so well,
But Buffy will not let the pity in.
“And yet you weren’t. I think that says it all,
Don’t you?” Her voice has twisted tight and sharp,
Enough to force out an apology –
But then, before the ‘sorry’ fully forms,
It’s Kennedy who speaks and cuts it off.
“No, Willow, don’t you dare apologise
To her.” She looks at Buffy, eyes still hot,
Accuses her, “How dare you talk like that!
With everything she’s been through? Coming back
To find… She did this all for you, you know,
She did it all to stop you feeling bad.”
Now Willow’s looking up; she shakes her head
“No, Kennedy,” she pleads, “it’s really fine,
It doesn’t matter, we don’t need to tell…”
“No, tell me,” Buffy orders, fairly sure
There’s nothing to excuse their running off,
Preferring to have what they’re gonna say
Out in the open rather than obscured.
“I really don’t know how you think you’re so
Damn perfect,” Kennedy begins – but then
Before there’s any moment to retort,
There’s Willow looking back at Buffy, eyes
So tired, clouded green. She says at last,
“It was the spell,” voice blunt, emotionless.
“Turns out the Slayer spirit hasn’t stopped
Getting annoyed when people try to use
Her power without asking in advance.”
She smiles wryly; Buffy’s mouth won’t move.
She doesn’t understand what’s being said.
It’s Spike who fills her place, “So what is it
You’re saying?” he encourages, voice strong
Against the flitting murmurs of the girls,
Who heard the argument and gathered round.
At least for her part Willow doesn’t mind,
It seems, to answer if Spike’s questioning.
“The primal Slayer spirit, that first girl,
She once came into our dreams before –
We used the Slayer power in a spell,
Which pissed her off, so she struck back at us,
Manipulated dreams so she could get
Revenge on us and take back what we took.
Instead of breathing with her spirit, we
Made Buffy take on mine, so in return
She sucked my life out from my chest and throat.
We woke up in the end, ‘cause Buffy spoke
To her, but this time, well, that first night’s dream,
There wasn’t anyone but us to speak.
She hunted me before I even knew
That she was coming, leapt and struck me down.
I woke up when I woke, but when I slept
She came again, frustrated and, well, raged.”
‘So where is it you went?’ now Buffy knows
She needs to ask again, but cannot ask.
As Willow wearily looks round the group
She understands she doesn’t need to, though.
The tale will come out, not long but told
In full, so everyone can understand.
[VIII]
brutti_ma_buoni and verity for beta-ing this!!As always - Spuffy-gen; PG-13; ~4000 words (~520 lines); warnings for the series of death and denied agency, with only brief mentions in this book. (There is also, dare I say it, a dragon...)
The group return to the shelter, where someone unexpected is waiting.
[VI]
VII
Hey, Calliope, it’s Quinara here;
Just thought I’d try to get in touch again,
Because you never answered when I called
Before? At least, I never felt it when
The ‘spiring came in… And, like, I don’t
Mean to be rude, but now I’m halfway through
It’s getting slightly late to intervene
If I’ve cocked up. There’s fun stuff on the cards,
Since Spike & Co. now have a clearer view
Of how the portal works – more magic plus
Illyria, some extra special guests,
Including one whom I think people miss –
So anytime you felt like chiming in,
Well, I’d be glad to have your thoughts, and I
Will take on board suggestions that you have.
If what I’ve got is not your cup of tea,
I s’pose we’ll have to go our separate ways…
“So, tell me, what’s the plan here, bro?” Rondell
Is asking, looking up at Gunn as they
Both fold the laundry set in front of them:
Dark clothes and grey-brown linen bandages,
A heap piled on the table, warm and dry,
But old and overused. “Your vampire friend,
He thinks it’s gonna change things if we know
Exactly who we’re fighting?” “Well.” Gunn shrugs.
“It should.” He’s filled another first aid box
With bandages, so sets that to the side
And pulls another forward to be filled.
“If we know where we’ve been connected to
Then we can figure out the rules, maybe,
You know, fight back, close off the portal, or –”
Rondell looks sceptical, not sure how well
He’d say he knows Charles Gunn these days. “Or what?”
Gunn smiles. “I guess I never told you what I got
Put in my brain when we were at the firm…
A lawyer’s head of knowledge, bro – enough
To get me through negotiations, sure,
With any world Wolfram and Hart might know.
And I’ve been thinking I could use it here,
If they make contact with the other world.”
A moment passes so Rondell can think;
He thinks he sees the thoughts Gunn has in mind,
Strange, foreign knowledge from a rich man’s brain,
Implanted over streetwise, savvy nerve.
“I always wondered when that boss of yours
Would say that you weren’t good enough for him.”
There’s silence for another moment – then
Gunn snorts, pitched dark and unamused. “Truth is,”
He says, “That Angel didn’t know a thing.
I woulda sold my soul to get my brain
Like this, to keep it in my head when I –
Could feel it slipping through my sorry grip…
I should have sold my soul instead of what
I did.” Rondell is unimpressed, looks back
To threadless cotton, says, “You sold your soul
To buy a truck, so don’t try talk to me
About how special your new knowledge is.”
Now Gunn is laughing, though his tone won’t change,
“You weren’t complaining when I brought it home!”
“We needed wheels,” Rondell replies, succinct
As he remembers all the simpler days,
When wheels and weapons were all they would need.
There’s times he can’t believe how much has changed.
And that’s when Anne comes over, trading words
With others fixing things and playing cards
Before she sits with them, by folded clothes.
“Soup’s cooking now,” she says and brushes hair
Out of her face as she sits back and sighs.
“It’s late, I should have put it on before,
But we can eat when everybody’s back…
Now, I heard laughing; what’s the funny, guys?”
Rondell sidesteps, explains instead, “Gunn thinks
That we can use diplomacy to win
The war; if we can figure who they are,
The demons – he thinks we can talk to them.”
“Hey, hey,” Gunn interrupts. “We might not win –
I mean…” His words thud dully for a beat,
But then he carries on, “It might not make
Us win, but it might do some good, you know?
Make things a little clearer if it’s not that they’re
Like normal demons in our world. I mean,
The portal’s messing with LA and us,
Am I right? So maybe what we’ve got, it goes
Both ways. If there’s a world up there with them,
Why wouldn’t they co-operate with us
To shut the portal and get back our lives?”
“He’s got a point,” Anne says, turned to Rondell,
Who shakes his head. “I shouldn’t be surprised;”
He comments then, “you always were the one
Who loved that touchy-feely talking shit.”
Gunn grins, “I think I need that written down…”
Rondell shakes out a shirt with force, but smiles.
“Of course,” he says, “It’s all irrelevant
Until the raiding gang comes back with news.”
As if on cue, however, suddenly
The doorbell rings, unbroken even now,
And everyone looks up. “They got a key?”
Rondell asks Anne, who frowns and nods as she
Starts dimming lanterns on the tabletop.
Gunn wheels around the sofa to the stairs,
The weapons stored on shelves out of the way.
Two crossbows on his lap he goes to Anne
And arms her, like himself, to guard Rondell,
Who signals silently to everyone,
Gets them alert and takes in hand a sword.
The doorbell rings again, resounding shrill;
Rondell does not adjust his careful pace.
Until the lights are dimmed enough that they’re
In almost-darkness, like the outside world,
He does not open up their sanctuary.
With rough-built antechamber open, then
They hold their breath, the squeaking of the door
The only sound before –
– “…there’s no one here.”
The murmured voice is coming from outside;
It cuts to silent shock. Rondell speaks first,
They hear, his voice pitched low but deadly firm,
“You got ten seconds ‘fore I slam this door:
Who are you and how d’you find out ‘bout us?”
“Um, OK – hi!” another voice comes, soft
And femininely pitched. “Is Buffy there?
Because, see, I’m a friend of hers, did a
Locator spell to find – it brought me here?”
“Look, guy,” the other (woman’s) voice cuts in,
“We come in peace, OK, so let us in
And we can talk about it off the street.”
Rondell seems to deliberate, but says,
“All right,” before the shuffling footsteps move.
Two doors are shut and then the light returns,
Called up in scattered spots across the room.
Gunn isn’t really sure who he expects,
But as the women enter he can tell
His eyes grow wide. “Oh, hey, it’s you!” he says.
“You gave back Angel’s soul.” And had a crush
On Fred, if he remembers right. “What’s up?”
Remembering him also, Willow says
(Of course that’s who it is), “Oh, hey! I’m good.”
She smiles, but not that wide, the lantern light
Not flattering across the lines that strain
Her face; Gunn wonders what her story is.
“I need to introduce myself, I guess,”
She carries on, “And Kennedy, but, um…”
She pauses, looking round, locks eyes again
And asks Rondell, “D’you mind if I sit down?”
He waves her to a sofa, where she falls
As though she hasn’t slept in weeks, and then
She asks, “Was Buffy here before, at least?
Because I didn’t think my spell went wrong…”
Anne clarifies, “She isn’t here right now,
But she’ll be back; they had a job to do.”
Across downtown and cold, hard tarmac roofs,
Gurpreet can feel resistance as she tugs
And pulls the vampire back along the thread
The spell kept hooked on him. He’s coming back,
But slowly, gathering speed not ‘cause of her;
It’s probably more to do with Buffy’s help.
But then, she could have guessed that anyway,
Since none of them have spoken to this guy
And he’s not really looked at them. He’s meant
To be a hero, that’s what Buffy said;
Gurpreet, though, heard the story differently –
Like, all the Slayers, they were doing fine,
But then this guy, he blew the town to dust
Just so his memory got all the rep.
If Buffy has a Billy Idol crush,
Fair play to her, but how’s he gonna help?
You can’t exactly blow this city up,
Since they don’t know how many are still here –
And even then the demons would come down.
As Spike appears at last before Gurpreet,
She doesn’t smile at him, just wonders this,
While he, for his part, nods in gratitude.
“Hey, thanks for that, guys,” Buffy tells them too,
Cross-legged in front of Sadie. “How’d you know
We needed rescuing?” Gurpreet looks back
And gestures to the God-King fighting filth,
“It was Illyria,” she says, “she said.”
Spike snorts in front of her. “Mayhap there’s hope
For Bluebell yet.” Gurpreet can’t tell if he
Appreciates the irony – since there
Was hope for him, presumably, before.
“We’re glad you both are back,” Elise says,
While Sadie, tremulous, agrees, and then
They’re up and running, pulling back away
From all the demons on the rooftop. What
Is strange, Gurpreet thinks, looking round, is how
The demons let them go: they’re parting seas
Almost, still hassling their scrapping rear,
But leaving them a clear and open path
Towards the fire escape, their scrabbling claws
And whipping wings all clustering away,
When anyone can see that they’ve control,
Could cut their passage off and make them fight
To force their way back down towards the street.
Do demon armies war with strategy?
But then, who cares about that crap? She’s back
In step with Xiao, boots brightly clattering
In rhythm down the rain-wet metal stairs
Before they’re marching through the streets again.
That Jade, the leader of the shelter’s gang,
Is at the front with all her team, while they
Are following behind right at the back,
With Buffy and the pair of randomers
Between their groups. It doesn’t make much sense,
Gurpreet thinks, having stronger people there,
But maybe they’re still knackered from the trip?
The quiet quick reclaims the LA night,
The way it does, so soon the only sound
Is sheeting rain, still beating grey and blue
Along the roads and windows, people’s hoods,
And gushing silver down the curbsides, black
In splashes under boots and curls of grime.
But not for long – soon something’s making noise;
Attack is coming, even though they were
Allowed escape before. It’s Kadriye
Who hears a whisker-snap of noise and squeaks,
“Elise!” – quietly, so they don’t give
Themselves away. Elise hears and looks,
Starts tapping others on the shoulder, thinks
She hears a sighing swish not far from them.
There’s something in the air, some streets away.
Gurpreet gets tapped and frowns, a bit confused,
But then Elise cups her ear and points –
She pauses, listens, then agrees the noise
Means something’s on its way. She moves to tap
On Mina’s arm, on Buffy’s, but –
– bright blasts
Behind; abandoned cars explode, consumed
By flame and light, the crossroads lit
With orange, yellow, white, two blocks away.
There’s something flying, shadow black, which snakes
Through all the light and flame, its silhouette
Sharp lines of scaly wings and lizard’s head.
It’s screaming at them, screeching high and shrill;
Gurpreet can hear that Buffy’s shouting too,
That everybody’s shouting panicked shouts,
Instructions – but she can’t make out a word.
All she can hear is how the dragon screams;
All she can see is how the dragon rears.
She knows the flames are coming (she is good
With fire), knows that they’re fenced in by cars –
The light is still so bright behind the beast,
Flames lapping at its wings like wicked tongues –
This isn’t any time for blades or bolts,
There’s instinct in her tells her that, but this
Will not be how it ends, she knows that too.
The dragon takes a breath; Gurpreet can feel
Soft whispers of the curling air disturbed
By how it breathes. Her hands reach out. They meet
Two other stretched out hands and clasp them tight,
Elise, right, and Sadie on her left –
That girl is always where she needs to be,
Though half the time she seems invisible.
Time slows and she commands the dragon, “Freeze!”
The spell does not feel as it usually does,
But she is sick of LA’s remixed energy,
So pushes on, weaves binds to hold the fire
Within the dragon’s mouth, its burning chest.
Yet as she weaves the binds her fingers slip;
Elise said that things were shifted here
And she can feel it, like the flesh does not
Exist beneath her fingers. Placing bonds
Around the dragon’s mouth, there’s nothing there,
Not even in this spell-cast astral plane.
She tries to find more purchase, concentrates,
But then there is a flex of energy.
The spell morphs in her hands, her fingers sink
Into the mind of this black beast and she
Starts seeing visions of the dragon’s thoughts,
A sharp and staggering enlightenment.
There’s names and places, memories and pain;
The world is strange here, lonely and confused
And dark, so very dark, and hellish loud.
They’ve tried to make a stable, quiet space
Beneath the swirling world well so that they
Can architect the portal’s close, yet still,
Although they’ve forced so many back from them,
The one whose hair is white is pushing on,
Has brought the others back and will invade.
That hero is the –
– Spike. Gurpreet reclaims
Herself and realises that’s who she sees.
The demons, they’ve all seen him charging round
And waving swords their way, not greeting them
When they were plunged into this awful world
With anything but hate and violence.
He’s killing off their noble generals,
Elite and honoured dragons – or, you know,
Whatever they all are back in their world.
And she can see him, menacing approach
Towards the portal, all that’s bright and sharp,
Just cleaving through their forces, cutting down
One dragon right below the portal’s sight
And leaving it for them to see its corpse,
A chilling threat to everyone who comes.
She knows it probably didn’t go that way
From Spike’s perspective – even if he seems
A little arrogant to her with all
The leather and the sultry silences
While he looks angst-filled, stuck at Buffy’s side –
But through the dragon’s eyes that’s what she sees.
The older leader people, with their war,
They’re doing this whole thing all wrong, she thinks,
And not, like, in the way where she just rants
To Mina or to Xiao, who usually
Has also got ideas on why they’re wrong,
But in the way where she’ll have to speak up.
Because she’s sure they’ll work it out eventually,
But if she doesn’t say then they’ll just ask
The reason why she never said before.
Refusing to believe they’d say ‘yeah, yeah’
And do whatever anyway.
That thought
Set strong and final in her mind, Gurpreet
Retreats back into her own human brain.
She opens both her eyes, shakes loose her hands
From Sadie’s and Elise’s grip, looks up
Towards the dragon, mouth and chest still bound
Against producing fire. It fills the road,
Its wings furled close in rigid, jutting folds,
Which angle back up claws past scaly spine.
It doesn’t look as lonely as it feels,
Its eyes are huge and trained on her yet still,
And burning wrecks of cars are licking flames
Against the grey façades and blown out fronts
Of empty shops – charred shutters, shattered glass.
The smell of burning plastic, petrol, oil
Is curling up her nose like nothing else,
Enough to make you think war’s being waged.
There’s Buffy’s call behind her then, “Gurpreet!
Are you OK? What did you do to it?”
She glances to the dragon, then she turns,
Tells Buffy, “It was meant to be a spell
To stop it spitting fire, innit, but
The forces made it come out wrong, so I
Got lost and started feeling in its head…”
She breathes more nasty smell and has to say,
“And, like, it doesn’t want to kill us all –
I mean, it thinks that we’re attacking it,
Or, like, that – Spike and us are killing them
When they’re the ones who found themselves lost here.
I think we need to change our plan, or… Yeah.”
Conviction fades as she looks round and feels
The way that everybody looks at her.
Yeah, Buffy’s frowning seriously, but
She doesn’t look quite as surprised and shocked
As how Gurpreet imagined she would look.
“You do believe me, though?” she asks, annoyed,
And Buffy nods. “Sure, I believe you – but…”
She sighs, eyes glancing up as if unsure
What she should say. “Nobody ever thinks
That they’re the bad guy,” she continues, “right?
So even demons who get off on it,
The being evil, it makes sense to them.”
Then Buffy’s eyes shift to the right, to Spike;
He reassures her with a nod. Gurpreet
Can feel the urge to backchat, even as
There comes another affirmation, “Yeah,”
From Sadie on her right, but still she lets
The other Slayer carry on, “I guess
I mean I’m not surprised by what you felt –
Because that’s kinda how it always goes –
But our problem isn’t how they feel,
It’s that we need to get the city back
And currently they’re fighting so we can’t.”
Her eyes are really earnest now; despite
The way her hair is plastered flat
Against her head, despite her anorak,
Still Buffy sounds experienced and sure.
“But I don’t think they want to fight,” Gurpreet
Replies, convinced the dragon wasn’t bad
Inside. “Well, if we can make contact, then
Of course we’ll try to talk things out instead.”
So Buffy offers up a compromise.
Gurpreet can’t tell if she’s been listened to;
The clarity of what she meant to say
Has faded since she opened up her eyes,
But even so, she doesn’t get a chance
To argue anymore, as Jade speaks up, voice fraught,
“Hey, we can talk about this when we’re back,
OK? It’s time that we got off the streets.”
And that’s enough to make them carry on,
Drop off into the side streets, out of sight –
Gurpreet looks back once more before they go,
Meets gazes with the dragon one last time,
Takes in its black and silenced form again
Before it spreads its jointed wings and flies.
And then she concentrates on getting home.
On getting back to shelter, Buffy’s plan
Is that they’ll all sit down and talk it out,
With her, Spike and Illyria sat down
And filling in Rondell and Jade and Gunn,
As well as anybody else who cares,
About the world they found beyond the sky.
They’ll make a plan, be sure to ask Gurpreet
To tell them what she learned – though Buffy’s not
Entirely certain they can find a way
To speak to demons who, in their own world,
Attack by making noise, communicate
Presumably in ways they couldn’t sense.
Though maybe someone else has an idea?
Of course, when they return, thought flits away
And is replaced by nothing but the sight
Of Willow standing there with Kennedy,
Who’s sunned herself a deep and golden tan.
She can’t say anything and Willow seems
To chicken out of starting things herself.
Resolving finally the silence, Anne
Cuts through the tension, says, “Who’s up for soup?”
They sit and eat, but Buffy doesn’t speak,
Not even as the others fill the air
With conversation, soothes herself instead
With hot, thick sustenance that drives away
The chill left by the rain in sodden clothes.
Eventually she marshals up her thoughts
And works out how it is she wants to act.
It’s late, but, yeah, she wants some answers, asks
“So where exactly was it that you were?”
As she puts down her soup spoon, lifts her head
To glare at Willow, curled up snug and small
Across the table. “Hope you both had fun,
You know, when you were taking in the sights
Instead of being where we needed you.”
The words appear to bullseye right on aim:
They stop all other conversation there
As Willow sits up in her seat, eyes wide
As she looks back, “Is that what you assumed?”
Her voice is soft and scared; still Buffy glares.
“I didn’t mean to make it sound like I,
Like we were going on vacation, did –
Is that the way it sounded when we spoke?”
Not letting up, she counters with “That’s what you said.
You told me in that nasty Motel 6
That you and Kennedy were gonna get
Away and take a break and see the sights,
Because you hadn’t any time before.”
Now Kennedy is perched by Willow’s side,
Eyes smouldering like coals as Will insists,
“I never said that! Why d’you think I’d say
Something as horrible as that? I mean,
I get – ” She laughs, a little strength in her,
“I get that that’s exactly what you thought
You’d earned to do with Spike by then, but that –”
“Oh no,” now Buffy interrupts. “You don’t,
Don’t even… You don’t get to say that it’s
Some kind of weird projection thing, that it’s
Because I heard what you were saying wrong.
Because you didn’t tell me where you went,
So maybe you did better covering
Or tried to say it nicer, but no way
Did you not want to get away from us.”
In face of Buffy’s anger Willow wilts,
But shakes her head, refusing to accept
That’s what she did – and Buffy can’t quite stand
To see her do it; anger’s flooding in
And filling her with noise and burning rage.
“If you’d have been there then you could have helped;
D’you know how many girls were injured? Killed?
And Giles –” Her voice breaks, dammit, yet again,
But she continues, “Where were you for that?
You should have been there, should have helped – it’s you
Osiris knows, has dealt with in the past –
It’s you. You should have stopped it happening.”
The other woman’s eyes are filled with tears.
Soft words, “I wish I’d been there with you all,”
They whisper from her mouth as she looks down
Towards the carpet, red hair hanging limp
Around her ears and chin. The others there,
They probably have sympathy for her
Because she does pathetic oh so well,
But Buffy will not let the pity in.
“And yet you weren’t. I think that says it all,
Don’t you?” Her voice has twisted tight and sharp,
Enough to force out an apology –
But then, before the ‘sorry’ fully forms,
It’s Kennedy who speaks and cuts it off.
“No, Willow, don’t you dare apologise
To her.” She looks at Buffy, eyes still hot,
Accuses her, “How dare you talk like that!
With everything she’s been through? Coming back
To find… She did this all for you, you know,
She did it all to stop you feeling bad.”
Now Willow’s looking up; she shakes her head
“No, Kennedy,” she pleads, “it’s really fine,
It doesn’t matter, we don’t need to tell…”
“No, tell me,” Buffy orders, fairly sure
There’s nothing to excuse their running off,
Preferring to have what they’re gonna say
Out in the open rather than obscured.
“I really don’t know how you think you’re so
Damn perfect,” Kennedy begins – but then
Before there’s any moment to retort,
There’s Willow looking back at Buffy, eyes
So tired, clouded green. She says at last,
“It was the spell,” voice blunt, emotionless.
“Turns out the Slayer spirit hasn’t stopped
Getting annoyed when people try to use
Her power without asking in advance.”
She smiles wryly; Buffy’s mouth won’t move.
She doesn’t understand what’s being said.
It’s Spike who fills her place, “So what is it
You’re saying?” he encourages, voice strong
Against the flitting murmurs of the girls,
Who heard the argument and gathered round.
At least for her part Willow doesn’t mind,
It seems, to answer if Spike’s questioning.
“The primal Slayer spirit, that first girl,
She once came into our dreams before –
We used the Slayer power in a spell,
Which pissed her off, so she struck back at us,
Manipulated dreams so she could get
Revenge on us and take back what we took.
Instead of breathing with her spirit, we
Made Buffy take on mine, so in return
She sucked my life out from my chest and throat.
We woke up in the end, ‘cause Buffy spoke
To her, but this time, well, that first night’s dream,
There wasn’t anyone but us to speak.
She hunted me before I even knew
That she was coming, leapt and struck me down.
I woke up when I woke, but when I slept
She came again, frustrated and, well, raged.”
‘So where is it you went?’ now Buffy knows
She needs to ask again, but cannot ask.
As Willow wearily looks round the group
She understands she doesn’t need to, though.
The tale will come out, not long but told
In full, so everyone can understand.
[VIII]
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Please?
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And the dragon POV, ZOMG! LOVE. The swing from, "Swarming hordes oh noes! How do we push them back?" to, "There's a hole torn in the world, and it's hurting everybody," REALLY works for me. This is the kind of story I want to read about.
Willow and Kennedy add an...interesting new flavour to the mix. Huh. *iz tremendously curious*
I hope Rondell gets a hero moment somewhere. I like him. I like the descriptions of the laundry-folding, too. Such a vivid, appropriate version of the walk-and-talk.
Can't wait for more!
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The dragon was entirely necessary, I feel. :D And I can't wait to post more!! Except I can, sort of, because a couple of turns need finessing... But soon! :D
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“You sold your soul
To buy a truck, so don’t try talk to me
About how special your new knowledge is.”
AHAHAhahah! I think it's good for Gunn to talk to someone who can call him on whatever emo pretentiousness he may be tempted to indulge in.
"if we can figure who they are,
The demons – he thinks we can talk to them.”
I can never see words like this without thinking of SG-1's Daniel Jackson.
Oh, the appearance of the dragon! It's cinematic, is what it is. I can hear the silence between the wingbeats, and the indrawn breath before the flames.
“Nobody ever thinks
That they’re the bad guy,”
A nugget of philosophy in the midst of a street fight! Love the way this bit touches so many aspects of the story: Spike's perspective as the historical villain, Buffy looking to him for backup and getting it, Buffy's eternal dilemma of having to choose human lives over demon even if the demons might be people too.
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Yay that you liked the dragon! I'm rather fond of it, especially and including the philosophy. Thanks as always for letting me know all your thoughts!!! I feel like I'm reading with you, which is so fun...