hobgoblinn | Today's Word count

20,177 / 50,000
(40.4%)

No, that's not a typo. That's a day off work, a couple of scenes in mind, and a couple of large uninterrupted chunks of time during the day to get them down. I even watched parts of season 7 and 6 in between, to get my mind back in the Buffy space. Because I'm about to attempt to do justice to the scattered multitudes, and I want to get all their voices back in my ear again.

I'm very proud of what I've got today, but that's not what I'm going to post. It's way too long for anyone to digest, especially given the mass quantities of feastlike foods many of my f-list have doubtless been enjoying. Here, instead, is the shorter next section of the story I wrote last night. Enjoy. Or not, as the mood strikes you.

I never thought I'd make it to 20K words. I still probably won't make it to 50K. But just starting this and writing every day has done wonders for me. Thanks to you, friends, both for your encouragement and your examples. You're what I'm most thankful for, this holiday. You, and of course, my small son, who thinks he will soon need to shave. And who's probably right, as fast as the time is passing by.

Peace unto you all.

Hob

Part II - Mother and Child

Things were different following the death of the Slayer. Willow had stayed close to him through the memorial service, the rounds of hospital visits, reassignment discussions, debriefings. He allowed her to take his hand when he returned to the pew in the front row beside her, after he had delivered a solemnly beautiful eulogy for Felicia. But his hand had remained limp in hers, almost as if he were the one who was dead. Barely tolerating her touch.

Meals became even more subdued than they had been before, too. And even weeks later, Giles had, if anything, grown more distant. Or perhaps, Willow reflected, he wasn’t even putting forth that minimal effort anymore, to be like the man she knew. She was really not doing a bit of good here, and maybe this dream thing had been a huge mistake.... She thought of her work in Rio, and the people there. It was certainly warmer, in several senses. And she would be doing something useful. She hated not being useful....

Willow glanced up sharply. Giles was quietly munching a piece of toast while reading the morning paper. Her eyes narrowed as it occurred to her to wonder-- was that how he had driven them all away before? Amplifying their own doubts and fears, keeping them all at arm’s length as they tried, and failed, to bridge the distance between them? Well. She wasn’t falling for it. Not again.

She saw Giles give a slight gasp then, a sigh. He reached for the cell phone beside him on the table and hit a speed dial button.

“Yes, Andrew,” he said without preamble. “I need you to look into a situation for me. An incident last night, outside a theatre in Soho.” He paused, listening, then “Yes, page 13. Start with our contacts at the Guardian and the Met. And check with the duty officer on our end-- there might have been a couple of Slayers in the crowd last night as well. The article is not at all clear on that point.” He rang off and turned to Willow.

“We’ll have a bit of research to do this morning, I’m afraid.” He passed the newspaper over to her, folded back to reveal the article in question.

It described an attack in a crowded area, with literally hundreds of potential witnesses. A mother and her school aged daughter were leaving a theatre when two deranged individuals, described as having “severe facial deformities,” had accosted them. Only the quick thinking of a couple of passers by had driven the attackers off, and they remained at large.

“Wow, Giles,” Willow said as she passed the paper back. He was gulping down the rest of his tea with one hand while trying to re-pack his briefcase with the other. She reached over to help. “It definitely looks like it might have been supernatural activity. But....” She hesitated, knowing how he loved Research. “Don’t we have other people who can look into this for us?”

“Andrew already is,” Giles replied, a little defensively. “Depending on what he brings back, we can either check the new database, or pass it off to the research team. Something that brazen though-- I want to be kept in the loop on it. It could be significant.” And now, she got no sense of joy at the impending research, just the overwhelming responsibility, not only for the lives under his direct command, but for all the people of his city, his nation, his world.

***

They rode the Tube in together that morning. No one watching them would have suspected that they knew each other at all, much less that they had shared repeated life and death experiences stretching back nearly a decade. Willow studied him out of the corner of her eye. His face was pale. Not quite as pinched and thin as when she’d arrived, but not at all the hale and hearty man she had once known. He might have been a banker in his immaculate dark blue business suit and black overcoat. But the scuffed and worn briefcase at his side seemed more befitting of an academic. She recognized the bag as one he’d carried frequently in Sunnydale, and she could even identify how and when some of the marks on it had occurred-- at least, she could get within an apocalypse or two.

But the eyes were not those of a scholar, nor of a mild mannered business executive. They were just now very far away, lost in the memory of horrors long past, but always present. Willow couldn’t begin to imagine it. Then his eyes blinked and returned to the doors as they pulled into the tube station. Willow gathered her bag and followed him out of the car and up the stairs to the damp cold street above.

***

They were sitting together at the conference table in Giles’ office about an hour later when Andrew gave his tentative knock. He poked his head in. “Um, excuse me, Mr. Giles, could I borrow Willow for a minute?”

Giles nodded without looking up from his battered Compendium of Known Demons, and Willow wondered at the flicker of relief in Andrew’s eyes. She got up curiously and joined him in the outer office.

“Willow, we’ve tracked down the lady who was attacked,” he began as she joined him in the hall. “Actually, She tracked Us. She’s downstairs, and .... I think she knows Giles. And she’s really, Really pissed off.”

Willow blinked in surprise. “Huh. Well, I guess getting attacked by monsters might make one a little cranky. Want me to talk to her first?”

Andrew nodded gratefully. “Would you mind?” They started toward the elevator to the entrance foyer.

As they walked, Willow asked, “Did she say what happened?”

Andrew shook his head. “Not to me. I thought she was going to throttle-- isn’t that such a cool British word?-- throttle Jenkins. That’s why I came up here.”

Willow suppressed a grin. “Discretion Is the better part of valor,” she intoned solemnly. Andrew grinned in appreciation. His grin faded as raised voices met their ears as the lift doors began to open.

Willow stepped out to find an unusually large gathering of Slayers and Watchers and staff loitering in the hallway, watching poor Michael Jenkins failing miserably to calm the woman hysterically and shrilly demanding to see Rupert Giles this very instant. There was a child behind her, holding on to the hem of her coat, looking a little forlorn. Willow stepped forward, catching the woman’s eye as she took a breath to continue. Willow pasted on her professional, I know what I’m doing so let me handle this smile.

“I’m Ms. Rosenberg. Mr. Giles will be down in a moment. In the meantime, why don’t we step in here,” Willow indicated the door to the nearby main conference room, which Andrew had thoughtfully tugged open and checked, nodding to her that it was currently not in use. “I’m sure we’ll all be more comfortable.”

Willow took the woman’s hand in greeting and smoothly guided her to the conference room, exerting only a smidgen of calming magic to achieve her end. The child followed, and Willow paused at the door and fixed the bystanders with an unmistakable look-- the one that said, find an elsewhere to be-- now. The crowd dispersed rapidly. Willow exchanged a quick look with Andrew, and he was on his way back upstairs, shaking his head in silent wonder. Then Willow turned back to the newcomers as she closed the door behind her.

“Now, then,” she said, pulling a chair out for the woman. She didn’t look angry now so much as disoriented and anxious. Post Traumatic Stress. How many times had Willow seen that? The child placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder in a comforting way, and the woman choked back a sob as she reached up to place her own hand over the smaller one.

Willow pulled up her own chair. “I understand you had some trouble last night,” she continued sympathetically. “Want to tell me about it?”

The woman smiler bitterly. “You’ll just think I’m a raving lunatic, just like everyone else.”

Willow shook her head. “Believe me, I’ve seen things, probably a lot weirder than anything that happened to you last night,” she said. “I promise you, whatever you tell me, I’m not very likely to think you’re crazy.”

The woman gave her a slow measuring look, then sighed. “All right. That’s why I’m here, after all. Because he showed me something similar, long ago.” She paused, then blurted out, “They were vampires.”

“And they attacked you in front of a crowd,” Willow looked thoughtful. The woman glanced up, as if surprised at the accepting tone. “That’s really not typical for vamps,” Willow went on. “Did they say anything? Did they go after anyone else near you?”

The woman shook her head. “No, they didn’t speak. And, it seemed like... they pushed other people out of the way. Like they wanted us. Or Ellen, really. It seemed like they were after Ellen.” She clasped the child’s hand a little tighter. “And then those two girls came up, and beat them off, and then they just weren’t there any more.... I didn’t really see all of what happened,” she finished apologetically.

Willow nodded, tried to keep her expression calm. “Well, you were very lucky. And you’ve come to a good place. We will find out who they were, and what they wanted. And we will keep you safe,” she finished, as the door opened, and Giles was standing in the doorway. Willow had not seen him at that much of a loss in a very long time.

“Oh my God. Lillian? Is that you? Are you all right?” He stepped forward as if he wanted to rush to her side, then hung back a bit, as if unsure of his welcome

Lillian rose and stepped forward, offering her hand a little stiffly, formally. “Rupert,” she said evenly. “It’s been...” she faltered, then “It’s been a long time.”

He took her hand in both of his. “Yes, it has,” he agreed, letting his eyes drift from her face to the child’s. “It has indeed.”

Willow had been looking mostly at the child, as something had been tickling in the back of her mind almost from the moment she had come down. There was something about the girl; Willow could feel it. And there was also some thing very hauntingly familiar about her features.... As Giles turned his eyes on the child, one piece clicked into place. She’d seen those wide intelligent green eyes, and that particular stubborn set of mouth as recently as this morning at her breakfast table. This child was related to Giles. Closely related. And she could sense from the shift in the room’s energies, that he had realized the same thing. She stepped forward, breaking the tension a bit.

“I imagine you and Mr. Giles have a lot to discuss,” Willow suggested casually. “How about if I take Ellen and let the docs give her a once over, and find her a snack? Aren’t you a little hungry?” She directed this last to the girl, who nodded. Shy, but also relieved. She was also picking up on the tension between her mother and this new gentleman, and it made her uncomfortable.

Lillian looked a little nonplussed. “Well, I don’t know,” she began.

Giles said quietly, “This is a place of safety. But even were it not, I assure you, Ellen would be safer with Willow than with anyone else on this earth.”

Lillian looked uncomfortable, but she acquiesced. “All right.” She turned to the girl. “Would you go with Miss erm, Willow for a bit, honey?” she asked. The girl nodded, and Willow led the way to the door. Willow heard the glass rattle a little as the door closed behind them, then offered the child her hand. It tingled in an odd sort of way. She turned down the hallway where Andrew was waiting, and the three of them headed toward the lift which would take them to the Infirmary.

****

When they were in the lift, Willow looked down at the serious little girl and said, “Um. So. How old are you Ellen?”

“Seven,” she replied quietly. She studied her shoes, fidgeting a little.

Andrew cleared his throat. “Uh, I don’t think we’ve been introduced....”

Willow jumped in, grateful for the distraction. “Yes, that’s right. Ellen, this is Andrew Wells. He works with Mr. Giles and me.”

Ellen gave him an uncertain/timid smile. “Ellen <>,” she announced, extending her hand with a gracious dignity.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He grinned and made a funny face, and she giggled a little.

They reached the Medical Wing floor and the doors parted for them. As they continued down the hallway, Willow asked, “So, Ellen. What did your mother tell you about this place?”

The child shrugged. “Just that it was a place where they knew about monsters. Like those creepy guys last night.”

As good an answer as any, Willow supposed. Aloud, she said, “That must have been pretty scary.”

“Yeah. Their faces were all bumpy. And they made horrible growly noises.”

Andrew piped up as they reached the door. “Yeah, I hate it when they do that. And you know what else? They are really rude. Some vampires will steal your last chocolate chip cookie, and then *lie* about it.” He continued on in this vein, and she was well and truly giggling by the time Doctor Martin got her into an exam room and began running tests.