The Witch's Hour
by wraith
The Witch's Hour
[reviews]
THE WITCH'S HOUR
July 2004~~~~Madrid, Spain
DAWN SUMMERS
Her Time With Us Was Short
Now She Has Returned Home
We Will Never Forget Her
The few remaining scoobies gathered around the newly erected stone, each lost in their own sombre thoughts, each bidding farewell silently to the youngest member of their group. No one spoke, the only sound, the broken sobs Willow couldn't even try to subdue. After a brief if valiant struggle with a particularly voracious strain of menningitous Dawn Summers had quietly slipped into a coma and died.
Buffy hadn't left her side from the time she had fallen ill, refusing to abandon her, even when the attendants had come to remove her remains to the funeral home. Attempts to persuade her to relinquish her hold on Dawn's hand had been met with the slayer's coldest stares and unspoken threats of tremendous violence. After sixteen hours standing vigil at the younger girl's side what she had been waiting for had occurred, the body began to glow brightly until it became painful to look at it directly, when the light faded the was no body, no remains of the young woman at all, just a depression in the sheet where she had laid, and a completely broken sister who finally allowed herself to release the loud, gut wrenching sobs that had been building for days.
Now, four days later, the slayer would shed no more tears as she bent to place a small kiss on the stone before wordlessly turning away to make her way to the limo waiting to take her to the airport.
Faith, Xander, and a specially trained force of one hundred and sixteen young slayers were waiting for her onboard a hercules transport that would take them to New York then L.A.
Xander , after getting over the death of Anya, had surprised everyone by jumping back into the fray against evil. Never having really forgotten his military know-how from his Halloween stint as GI Joe, Xander decided that though stakes and holy water worked against vampires, the old watcher's council had been hopelessly remiss in updating their slayer's training in modern fighting techniques. With Giles as head of the new council behind him and the surprisingly invaluable help of Andrew, he had set out to bring slaying in line with modern warfare.
Military equipment and hardware had been acquired through many different channels, modern weaponry that was soon redesigned to a slayer's particular needs. Standard ammunition was replaced with silver hollow point bullets filled with holy water or incendiary rounds, combat shotguns with ironwood slugs, etc. Their swords were now made out of composites or titanium, lighter than steel and much harder and sharper. Then there was Xander's favourite creation, a redesigned version of a compact grenade launcher, retrofitted to take a drum magazine holding twenty ironwood stakes and able to deliver them repeatedly at over one thousand feet per second with startling accuracy. Now these weapons and a select group of slayers trained by retired British SAS commandos along with some rocket launchers, flame-throwers and specially made grenades were on their way to Los Angeles for a very specific mission.
Having heard of Angel and company's thwarting of the Senior Partner's plans, and then their deaths, Buffy had announced that she would return to the states and make things right. She owed Angel and Spike at least that much, and she had made it very clear that she wouldn't be dissuaded. It was quickly decided that if it was going to be done , it would be done right. Now the small army of slayers would enter L.A. with a single rule of engagement, cleanse the city, period!
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November 2011~~~~~East Texas
The redhead pulled her dusty rental car off the road
and into the gravel parking lot. The drive north from Fort Worth had
been short enough but after England she was finding the heat almost
overpowering and quietly prayed that the building in front of her was air
conditioned. Taking in her surroundings she also prayed that this was the
right place. What had obviously begun as a warehouse of some sort, it
had been turned into the largest bar the woman had ever seen. The
slanted roof was dominated by skylights, and almost every window in the
three story structure had neon lights or signs advertising bikes, racing
performance products or beer. A wildly coloured neon sign that was easily
thirty feet across stood up from the roof proclaiming the name of the
bar in brilliant red letters that could be seen for miles at night, 'THE
WITCHING HOUR'.
The lot was filled almost exclusively with motorcycles, not
the low chrome jewelled beasts she had expected to find outside what she
was told was a 'biker bar', but the sleek, predatory machines who's
appearances simply screamed of speed. The few cars in the area were likewise
modified for racing purposes.
Stopping outside the doors she could feel the heavy base of the house
music as it reverberated through the building and she took a moment to
steele herself, trying to decide which she feared more, finding the
person she had been searching for, or the possibility of another dead end.
She had spent the better part of the last two years searching for her
friend, but each time she followed a lead that sounded promising it
ended in another case of mistaken identity, or long outdated information.
Then, one month ago, a rumour reached her that her target had been
spotted frequenting a certain bar outside Fort Worth on the road to the
Texas Motor Speedway. Taking yet another leave of absence from her position
with IBM's London headquarters she flew back to the states, and after a
brief stop in Cleveland to visit another old friend and check for any
updates she began her journey to Texas.
Cleveland~~~~~~~~one week earlier
Willow waited patiently after pressing the buzzer for someone to
answer knowing that the tenant would not likely be up this early in the
day, after all it was barely one o'clock. She was about to ring again when
a sleepy, and grumpy voice squawked from the intercom. "Yeah? What d' ya
want?"
"Faith? It's me."
"Red? Wow you didn't waste any time did ya? Come on up."
Willow waited for the buzz and headed inside the building. After some
of the places that Faith had stayed in before this place was pretty
poshy. Willow was a bit surprised to find that the hallways were
immaculately clean and both the carpeting and the paint seemed relatively new. The
elevator up to the eighteenth floor was walled with clean mirrors and
the prints hung at intervals along the halls were simple and tasteful.
When Faith opened the door to her apartment and ushered her in the
redhead was almost at a loss for words. The place was huge! The living room
where Faith had led her was easily forty feet across and thirty more
from the entryway to the large glass doors leading out onto an
impressively large balcony. The furniture was all leather or dark-stained wood,
much of which looked to be antiques.
"Holy smokes Faith, this place is beautiful! I have to admit I was
expecting something a little more...."
"Fleabag-ish?" The slayer finished for her. When Willow began to
stutter a reply Faith quickly cut her off with a chuckle. "Yeah, I know, not
really what I'm used to, but it came with the job. Who knew slaying
would pay this well?"
"You're getting paid to slay?"
"Yeah, ain't that a gas? The city council here ain't like Sunnyhell
that's for sure. When they got wind that there was someone actually
putting a dent in the demon population here they didn't waste any time
tracking me down and putting me on the payroll. I got a special squad of cops
at my beck and call, plus a couple of kick-ass lawyers to handle any
legal snafus that might pop up. I even got a couple of the new generation
of slayers working for me. Everything I need to get the job done is a
phone call away, and MAN what a difference it makes, vamp attacks are
down thirty percent this year and tourist revenue has apparently almost
doubled. I might even get me a big bonus at the end of the year! Not bad
for an ex-con and high school drop-out Huh?"
TBC