![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hobgoblinnThis is actually shaping up into something kind of interesting. I'll probably scrap the later bits-- I think the parts I'm working on now won't fit with them. But it's all still much in flux. I'm starting to daydream and get scenes like I did for Summer, something I never thought would happen again.
Here are some scenes following on those I've already inflicted. I'd still rather have Summer feedback, particularly on the ending, but I know some people enjoy having a part in the creative process, and I am blessed with some extraordinarily wise and creative friends.
What follows is more than today's bit, but they all kind of hang together. Read at your peril! I'm pretty pleased with tonight's part....
11/11/06
Willow kissed Kennedy goodbye at the airport security checkpoint. If she’d had any doubts about the change in their relationship, the kiss sealed it for her. Friendship, bittersweet resignation, but no tears, and no helpless longing, no sense that either of them would go on empty without the other. They were both strong in their own ways, and while they would always be close, they both had grown apart. And they both knew that their places were halfway across the world from each other. Kennedy’s in Rio, organizing and training the Slayers in this region. And Willow’s in London, by the side of the man she had once had a hopeless schoolgirl crush on.
She grinned a little at the memory. Then she frowned as she remembered how much pain she had caused him, not only in her growing up and sneaking around learning Magick, but later, when she had channeled all her rage and grief through him, pulling his very life essence from him, a violation in some ways worse than anything she had done to Warren. And worse, all the while, a part of her had known that she loved Giles, and that he was an innocent in the events that had led to her final breakdown.
She still marveled that he had brought her back to England, had overseen her recovery, had fought behind closed doors for her right to continue to exist, to make amends, to grow back into being just “Willow.” She knew some of it was fueled by his regret, that he hadn’t seen her crisis coming, knowing so well from his experience what that was like. But some of it was just because he still loved her for the shy, beautiful girl she had been. For Willow.
She boarded the plane, saying one final blessing under her breath to ward off random or directed evil, and wondered what would be waiting for her in London. Because the Giles she remembered, even from the summer he had gone “all Dumbledore” on her, had not been there for a very long time.
11/12/06
Giles stood silently for a long time after the answering machine message had clicked off. Willow, her voice a little tentative, but also resolved, announcing that she was coming back to London. She’d had some vision which concerned him, she said. And, she admitted, as if not sure how it would be received, she was worried about him, that she missed him.
He sighed. It was not unlike the way they had been, the last few months before they had drifted off to hot spots around the world. A part of him was proud of them, that they had such dedication. And a part of him had been relieved not to have to pretend anymore, to be the man he had once been, the one they remembered. That man, he realized now, had started to die the night they’d buried Buffy, and his demise had been completed with the Council’s destruction, when almost everyone he had known since childhood had gone up in a huge fireball. Being the only one left who remembered, who truly Knew what they were up against.
He felt little these days, except tired, and always, always cold. Sometimes a little sick to his stomach, as he made decisions no one else was willing or able to make-- decisions which all too often sent another girl or her young watcher, or both, to their deaths. And now, Willow was coming here.
11/13/06
Willow hated flying. She’d thought once, when she first began learning that witches were real, and that she had power, that she’d one day be as comfortable on a broom as, oh, say, Harry Potter. But Giles, on first hearing that, had witheringly informed her that witches did not actually hold with such nonsense. Much later, Tara had confided that her mother had always told her, “Well we can, but we don’t. Power carries with it responsibility, my child.” A maxim she now lived up to whenever possible, including forgoing teleportation except in real emergencies, and she was not yet convinced this was.
Which was why Willow was wedged into this airplane seat next to a fat man who was snoring softly and smelled like metabolizing Bourbon, and in front of an annoying little boy whose mother had thought it was adorable how he kept kicking the back of her seat. She sighed. At least the flight was nonstop. Only 9 hours. She had about 5 to go, and sleep was just not happening for her, though the little boy had conked out before she began to entertain serious thought of turning him into a toad.
What would she find waiting for her, back in England? Giles hadn’t returned her calls, so she wasn’t even sure he would meet her, or delegate it to anyone else. If their parting was any indicator, he would not be overjoyed to see her on his front steps, either. It hadn’t been acrimonious, that last conversation, though she had tried to goad him into making it so. Anything, to get a reaction out of him.
But no. It had been like talking to a stranger, a stranger who could not even be bothered to be in the same room with her while he listed off again the contacts she could count on in Brazil, and the volumes she should ship back if she found any of them. Even the smile and the final admonishment to “Have a safe voyage” did not come near his eyes. They were dead, and empty, and cold, and she realized now that was as much a part of why she’d left as anything else. After all they’d been through together, she couldn’t bear to see him like that. And she couldn’t stand by helplessly and watch.
Neither could the rest of them. Buffy had taken Dawn off first, to a short crisis in Italy which had lengthened until Buffy finally admitted she wanted to be shallow, and frivolous, and Normal, and something about cookie dough. Which Willow still didn’t quite get. But the rest, yeah. Everyone agreed she had more than earned a break. And there was some organizing to be done in Rome. And Dawn was thriving there, in school, in her private Watcher studies, and in just being a kid for really the first time in her life. Buffy was finally keeping her promise, showing her sister the world. All good. Even Giles said so. But if anything, he’d become more withdrawn and distant, and all their overtures, trying to draw him out, had been in vain.
Faith had left next, saying the New Order was way too damn structured for her, or something like that. Willow still had a hard time sometimes, translating Faith’s unique forms of expression. But though Willow tried to keep her thoughts from transgressing the boundaries of those around her, Faith gave off, in waves, an increasing uneasiness around them all, but particularly Giles. He was unfailing polite to her. But something about him scared Faith. Faith had gone back to the States, to take over the leadership of the Cleveland Hellmouth guard, and was from all accounts doing a fine job.
For a while, she and Xander and Kennedy had remained. Giles delegated a good deal, especially tasks involving human interaction, to Xander. At first, Xander had thrown himself into the work to forget his grief. As he started realizing he really was Good at all the things new Watchers needed to be good at, he had grown ever more assured and self confident-- but ever sadder as well, as he began to see that the one person whose approval he had always secretly craved, was barely noticing his efforts. It hurt, and it also brought up childhood hurts she often feared would never completely heal. She hadn’t been surprised, really when he’d decided to go to Africa and seek out the many new Slayers the coven had identified there.
He came back from that final briefing with Giles so desolate. She remembered him standing by the window, looking down at the golden halo of light from the nearby streetlamp, diffusing through the fog. “He’s....” Xander swallowed, and his voice broke as he forced it out, “It’s like he’s not even there anymore, Will. He’s like a robot, you know? Like he’s acting all these mannerisms, but it’s-- it’s not Real.”
Willow came over and hugged him close as Kennedy slipped out to give them some time. Kennedy had quickly realized that some friendships were sacred, and that no matter how much Willow loved her, there were some relationships that would always come before the two of them. Willow was grateful for the gesture, and the privacy. She murmured now, her cheek resting against his strong chest, “It’s just been hard for him,” she began, as she always did.
Xander pulled back and looked hard at her through his remaining eye. “No, Willow, don’t make excuses for him. If it’s so hard for him, he should let us help. That’s what friends do. That’s what we’ve Always done. But this-- I don’t know what this is. I don’t know who he is anymore.”
Willow hugged him close again. “Neither do I,” she whispered.
Xander had flown out the next morning, with only herself and Kennedy and a couple of the Slayers who remained from the Battle of Sunnydale, as it was being called now, to see him off. And when, after a few more months of intensive effort on Willow’s part to break through the icy wall around her former mentor had failed to have any effect whatever, she had taken the situation in Brazil gratefully, as a credible way out of an unbearable situation. Giles had not even said goodbye to her, though he had said something perfunctory to Kennedy in the hallway the day before they’d left.
And now she was going back to all that, without anyone at all to stand with her. All because of some dream which might not mean anything at all. But she knew in her heart, something was about to happen. Something was about to change.
********
And now, Antenna's cool progress meter. I don't think I'll get 50k, but I'll be happy with half that even. And I think it's do-able. Kind of cool...
6,285 / 50,000
(12.6%)
Here are some scenes following on those I've already inflicted. I'd still rather have Summer feedback, particularly on the ending, but I know some people enjoy having a part in the creative process, and I am blessed with some extraordinarily wise and creative friends.
What follows is more than today's bit, but they all kind of hang together. Read at your peril! I'm pretty pleased with tonight's part....
11/11/06
Willow kissed Kennedy goodbye at the airport security checkpoint. If she’d had any doubts about the change in their relationship, the kiss sealed it for her. Friendship, bittersweet resignation, but no tears, and no helpless longing, no sense that either of them would go on empty without the other. They were both strong in their own ways, and while they would always be close, they both had grown apart. And they both knew that their places were halfway across the world from each other. Kennedy’s in Rio, organizing and training the Slayers in this region. And Willow’s in London, by the side of the man she had once had a hopeless schoolgirl crush on.
She grinned a little at the memory. Then she frowned as she remembered how much pain she had caused him, not only in her growing up and sneaking around learning Magick, but later, when she had channeled all her rage and grief through him, pulling his very life essence from him, a violation in some ways worse than anything she had done to Warren. And worse, all the while, a part of her had known that she loved Giles, and that he was an innocent in the events that had led to her final breakdown.
She still marveled that he had brought her back to England, had overseen her recovery, had fought behind closed doors for her right to continue to exist, to make amends, to grow back into being just “Willow.” She knew some of it was fueled by his regret, that he hadn’t seen her crisis coming, knowing so well from his experience what that was like. But some of it was just because he still loved her for the shy, beautiful girl she had been. For Willow.
She boarded the plane, saying one final blessing under her breath to ward off random or directed evil, and wondered what would be waiting for her in London. Because the Giles she remembered, even from the summer he had gone “all Dumbledore” on her, had not been there for a very long time.
11/12/06
Giles stood silently for a long time after the answering machine message had clicked off. Willow, her voice a little tentative, but also resolved, announcing that she was coming back to London. She’d had some vision which concerned him, she said. And, she admitted, as if not sure how it would be received, she was worried about him, that she missed him.
He sighed. It was not unlike the way they had been, the last few months before they had drifted off to hot spots around the world. A part of him was proud of them, that they had such dedication. And a part of him had been relieved not to have to pretend anymore, to be the man he had once been, the one they remembered. That man, he realized now, had started to die the night they’d buried Buffy, and his demise had been completed with the Council’s destruction, when almost everyone he had known since childhood had gone up in a huge fireball. Being the only one left who remembered, who truly Knew what they were up against.
He felt little these days, except tired, and always, always cold. Sometimes a little sick to his stomach, as he made decisions no one else was willing or able to make-- decisions which all too often sent another girl or her young watcher, or both, to their deaths. And now, Willow was coming here.
11/13/06
Willow hated flying. She’d thought once, when she first began learning that witches were real, and that she had power, that she’d one day be as comfortable on a broom as, oh, say, Harry Potter. But Giles, on first hearing that, had witheringly informed her that witches did not actually hold with such nonsense. Much later, Tara had confided that her mother had always told her, “Well we can, but we don’t. Power carries with it responsibility, my child.” A maxim she now lived up to whenever possible, including forgoing teleportation except in real emergencies, and she was not yet convinced this was.
Which was why Willow was wedged into this airplane seat next to a fat man who was snoring softly and smelled like metabolizing Bourbon, and in front of an annoying little boy whose mother had thought it was adorable how he kept kicking the back of her seat. She sighed. At least the flight was nonstop. Only 9 hours. She had about 5 to go, and sleep was just not happening for her, though the little boy had conked out before she began to entertain serious thought of turning him into a toad.
What would she find waiting for her, back in England? Giles hadn’t returned her calls, so she wasn’t even sure he would meet her, or delegate it to anyone else. If their parting was any indicator, he would not be overjoyed to see her on his front steps, either. It hadn’t been acrimonious, that last conversation, though she had tried to goad him into making it so. Anything, to get a reaction out of him.
But no. It had been like talking to a stranger, a stranger who could not even be bothered to be in the same room with her while he listed off again the contacts she could count on in Brazil, and the volumes she should ship back if she found any of them. Even the smile and the final admonishment to “Have a safe voyage” did not come near his eyes. They were dead, and empty, and cold, and she realized now that was as much a part of why she’d left as anything else. After all they’d been through together, she couldn’t bear to see him like that. And she couldn’t stand by helplessly and watch.
Neither could the rest of them. Buffy had taken Dawn off first, to a short crisis in Italy which had lengthened until Buffy finally admitted she wanted to be shallow, and frivolous, and Normal, and something about cookie dough. Which Willow still didn’t quite get. But the rest, yeah. Everyone agreed she had more than earned a break. And there was some organizing to be done in Rome. And Dawn was thriving there, in school, in her private Watcher studies, and in just being a kid for really the first time in her life. Buffy was finally keeping her promise, showing her sister the world. All good. Even Giles said so. But if anything, he’d become more withdrawn and distant, and all their overtures, trying to draw him out, had been in vain.
Faith had left next, saying the New Order was way too damn structured for her, or something like that. Willow still had a hard time sometimes, translating Faith’s unique forms of expression. But though Willow tried to keep her thoughts from transgressing the boundaries of those around her, Faith gave off, in waves, an increasing uneasiness around them all, but particularly Giles. He was unfailing polite to her. But something about him scared Faith. Faith had gone back to the States, to take over the leadership of the Cleveland Hellmouth guard, and was from all accounts doing a fine job.
For a while, she and Xander and Kennedy had remained. Giles delegated a good deal, especially tasks involving human interaction, to Xander. At first, Xander had thrown himself into the work to forget his grief. As he started realizing he really was Good at all the things new Watchers needed to be good at, he had grown ever more assured and self confident-- but ever sadder as well, as he began to see that the one person whose approval he had always secretly craved, was barely noticing his efforts. It hurt, and it also brought up childhood hurts she often feared would never completely heal. She hadn’t been surprised, really when he’d decided to go to Africa and seek out the many new Slayers the coven had identified there.
He came back from that final briefing with Giles so desolate. She remembered him standing by the window, looking down at the golden halo of light from the nearby streetlamp, diffusing through the fog. “He’s....” Xander swallowed, and his voice broke as he forced it out, “It’s like he’s not even there anymore, Will. He’s like a robot, you know? Like he’s acting all these mannerisms, but it’s-- it’s not Real.”
Willow came over and hugged him close as Kennedy slipped out to give them some time. Kennedy had quickly realized that some friendships were sacred, and that no matter how much Willow loved her, there were some relationships that would always come before the two of them. Willow was grateful for the gesture, and the privacy. She murmured now, her cheek resting against his strong chest, “It’s just been hard for him,” she began, as she always did.
Xander pulled back and looked hard at her through his remaining eye. “No, Willow, don’t make excuses for him. If it’s so hard for him, he should let us help. That’s what friends do. That’s what we’ve Always done. But this-- I don’t know what this is. I don’t know who he is anymore.”
Willow hugged him close again. “Neither do I,” she whispered.
Xander had flown out the next morning, with only herself and Kennedy and a couple of the Slayers who remained from the Battle of Sunnydale, as it was being called now, to see him off. And when, after a few more months of intensive effort on Willow’s part to break through the icy wall around her former mentor had failed to have any effect whatever, she had taken the situation in Brazil gratefully, as a credible way out of an unbearable situation. Giles had not even said goodbye to her, though he had said something perfunctory to Kennedy in the hallway the day before they’d left.
And now she was going back to all that, without anyone at all to stand with her. All because of some dream which might not mean anything at all. But she knew in her heart, something was about to happen. Something was about to change.
********
And now, Antenna's cool progress meter. I don't think I'll get 50k, but I'll be happy with half that even. And I think it's do-able. Kind of cool...
6,285 / 50,000
(12.6%)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-11-14 10:35 pm (UTC)I can't wait for the Giles Wilow interaction.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-11-15 12:32 am (UTC)