Somewhere I Have Never Travelled; Book One
by Kirayoshi
Bittersweet Symphony
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Chapter 2
Bittersweet Symphony
"Cause it's a Bittersweet Symphony, this life;
Tryin' to make ends meet, you're a slave to your money, then you die.
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down
You know the one that takes you to the places where all things meet, yeah.
I won't change that, never change that, can't change, I can't change,
Yeah I'm here in my mold, yeah I'm here in my mold,
But I'm a million different people from one day to the next,
I can't change my mold, Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
--The Verve
"Bittersweet Symphony"
I had just moved in to the new place. I had decorated it myself; earth tones mostly, dark greens and browns, warm and friendly colors, a mountain of paisley throw pillows on the couch, Coca-Cola ad art in the kitchen, my computer in the bedroom, all the comforts of home. All in all, I thought, the place was shaping up nicely.
There was just one element that was missing. One element that would always be missing. Buffy.
Just after the funeral, Joyce(it still feels weird calling her Joyce, after all these years.) gave me a box containing some of Buffy's things, things she thought that Buffy would want me to have. Her CD collection, some old books and movie videos, the sweater I had given her for her 19th birthday(the only one we got to celebrate before Adam), and Mr. Gordo, her stuffed pig. I had taken to sleeping with Mr. Gordo in my arms. A poor surrogate for his former owner, but he was all I had of her.
I hadn't actively sought companionship after losing Buffy, and I knew that I wouldn't. Buffy was the one true love of my life, I realized that as I lost her. No one would ever touch my heart, my soul, as deeply as she did. So I threw myself into college, into my work. I had taken an at-home job with a small software company called Cybermancers Media, a company that specialized in applications software and fantasy-themed computer games. I made a little bit as one of their regular beta-testers, helping to work out the bugs in their new products. I also created a role-playing game based on the movie "Buckaroo Bansai"(a guilty pleasure of my childhood), which, surprisingly enough, became the company's biggest seller. I was paid handsomely for the game, and used the money to purchase the townhouse where I now lived. I figured I'd better cover my nut, and living rent-free has its advantages. Beta-testing doesn't pay a whole hell of a lot, but it's better than most 'joe jobs'. Plus Cybermancers wanted me to design more software for them.
I had just placed a neon-blue lava lamp(Xander's housewarming gift)on a shelf in the living room, when the doorbell chimed(a Westminster chime, came with the house). I answered the door, and was greeted by a hug from Tara. "Beware of Wiccans bearing gifts," she announced cheerily, her voice like a sleigh bell. She shoved a large gift box into my arms, saying, "Good to see you, friend."
"Tara," I said, pleased at her appearance. "How've you been?"
"Not bad, Willow," she answered. "So you gonna open the box or what?"
"Oh, yeah," I suddenly remembered the package. I tore off the bright wrapping paper and lifted the lid off the box. Nestled within the Styrofoam peanuts was a clay statue of the Earth Goddess, a rotund figure with huge round breasts. Glazed in a smooth chocolate brown with beige highlights. "A good luck totem," Tara explained, "to bless this house."
"It's beautiful," I answered, touched by her thoughtfulness. "Here, let me find a suitable place for it," I added, clearing away part of the coffee table, displaying the Goddess prominently in the center of the living room. "How's that?"
"Perfect," Tara announced. "Even matches your color scheme. So, when do I get the fifty-cent tour?"
"Sure," I answered, taking her by the hand, and leading her through the house. I showed her my bedroom, the computer station, the kitchen, all the basic stuff. I had told her about my job as a beta-tester, about my college courses, my family. She told me about her folks, her studies, the major events of her life.
"I've missed you, Willow," she said as we faced each other on the sofa while munching on a vegetarian pizza. "Missed hanging out, doing spells with you. Hey, there's a new coven opening up on campus, why don't you join?"
I turned away from her as she made her offer. "I'm not into the magic scene these days. I kinda gave it up after Buffy..."
"Hey, Willow," Tara placed her hand on mine. "Buffy wouldn't want you to mourn forever. You've got to move on."
"I have, Tara," I said, semi-convincingly. "I'm still going to school, I've got a good job, I'm happy with my life."
I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Willow, look at me," she whispered. "I'm your friend, I know you. You've seen so much in your life, such evil, such terror. But you've overcome it all, and kept that special something that still makes you who you are. But I'm worried about you. You've been growing apart from the rest of us. When's the last time you saw Giles? Or Xander? They're your friends, don't shut them out now."
"I haven't shut them out!" I replied, maybe a little too loudly. I saw Tara flinch as I shouted, so I lowered my voice. "I still see them. I just saw Xander two weeks ago. He said he was fine, that he was doing well in community college. Hey, he just called yesterday, and he wants me to meet him at the Bronze today."
"Any reason given?" Tara asked.
"No, he's gone all 'it's a surprise' on me."
"Well," Tara asked, "are you going?"
I stalled, not sure what to say. "I dunno, Tara," I finally admitted. "I haven't been there in months."
"I understand," she answered. I felt her hand gently massaging my shoulder, and sensed her lips closer to mine. "But you should get out of your shell sometime. It isn't healthy to lock yourself away from the world. Please, Willow, let me help you."
Moved by her genuine concern, I leaned forward into a friendly hug. "I'm glad you're my friend, Tara," I whispered. She didn't say anything to me, she just held me, the way I needed to be held. She leaned her head toward mine, and I could just barely feel her lips pressing against my neck. I found myself leaning toward her face, and before I knew it, her mouth was on mine.
I had never touched anyone since losing Buffy. I found that I missed that contact. And it would have been so easy to surrender to Tara's ministrations. She was clearly eager to continue. I had been aware of her attraction to me from the first time we met. And once I even entertained returning her affection. But she knew, and I knew that my heart belonged to Buffy.
I guess it still did, even one year later.
Before the kiss could increase in intensity, I backed off. "I can't," I said feebly, as I got off the couch. "It wouldn't be fair, not to you."
"Willow," she argued, "all we did was kiss."
"Yeah, all we did," I answered. "But if we had gone from there...I..." I stopped my train of thought, before I could start babbling incoherently(always one of my greatest faults, although Buffy had told me more than once that she found it endearing), and started over; "Look, Tara, you're my friend, and yes, you're as sexy as all get out, but I can't and won't use you as a substitute Buffy. Please, I'm sorry, just don't...just don't."
Tara said nothing for a few seconds, and I was afraid that I had hurt her. Finally, she just smiled sadly at me and said, "I understand, Willow. And I'm glad that you think that I'm sexy. The truth is that I have always been attracted to you. I would love nothing more than for you to carry me off to your bedroom and have your way with me. But you're right. I wouldn't take advantage of you that way. But maybe someday, when the hurt is less," she added, with just a hint of pleading in her eyes, "you'll consider giving me a try?"
I looked at her, considering her offer. "Maybe," I sighed, "but I wouldn't get your hopes up."
"Hey," she half-laughed. "What are hopes for if not to be raised?" She patted me on the back, just a friendly kind of touch, and said, "C'mon, Willow, I'm taking you to the Bronze, even if I gotta hog-tie you to get you there. And before you say anything, no, I'm not into bondage!"
"Yeah right, 'Tara, Mistress of Pain'? I don't see it." I laughed at her comment, and was grateful to be able to laugh. "Okay, let me get my jacket."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
It had been over six months since I had last stepped into the Bronze, and nearly fifteen minutes after I walked in, I was ready to get out. Six months ago, I had tried to put up a brave front and go on with my life. As soon as I had entered the Bronze then, I noticed the band playing. The former members of Oz's old band the Dingoes had regrouped under a new lead singer and a new name, Evil Petting Zoo. Watching Oz's old friends brought Oz back to my mind, and I wanted to vomit. To think that I had let him touch me, kiss me, make love to me. To remember how he hurt me when he left, and then how he betrayed us all by killing Buffy. I had to run from the Bronze immediately, and I couldn't set foot in it since.
I finally screwed my courage to the sticking-place, and entered the Bronze. At first it wasn't bad. A deejay was handling the music that night, and the dance floor was packed with young people, singles, couples and groups, all having fun. I tried to dance myself, and found that I liked it. "Smooth", Santana's duet with Rob Thomas was playing, and I was starting to feel no pain. That was the ticket, I thought, just shake and shimmy it off. For a few minutes, hearing Matchbox 20 and Lauren Hill, life was good again.
Then they had to play that damn Pearl Jam song. Their cover of Wilson Frank's "Last Kiss". The refrain stabbed at me like a knife to the heart;
"Oh where, oh where, can my baby be?
The Lord took her away from me.
She's gone to heaven, so I gotta be good,
So I can see my baby when I leave this world."
It had occurred to me then that I didn't even have that option. Buffy wouldn't be waiting for me in Heaven, thanks to Oz. She was in Hell, because of his actions. I could only hope that she had a good view of his suffering in Hell as well. Maybe if I became evil--oh Goddess, what was I thinking?
Tara noticed my face when the Pearl Jam song played. She took my arm and led me to a table, saying, "Oh no you don't, Wills. You're not bailing out now. We'll wait for Xander here." She sat me down on a pile of cushions, and signaled for a waiter. "Two spring waters, please," she ordered, and the waiter left.
Trying to ignore the song, I glanced around the room, taking in the time-honored occupation of people-watching. Several couples hit the floor, most hetero, one consisting of two girls. I remembered fondly how Buffy and I would burn up the dance floor together, not caring what people thought of us. We occasionally had to deal with some mean-spirited homophobe or pervert who wanted to make it a threesome, but never any threats of violence or truly hateful gestures. I smiled as I saw the two girls gyrated on the floor, oblivious to all but each other. Me and Buffy, we were like that. So in tune with each other's moods, each other's thoughts, each other's bodies. When we danced together, when we held each other, when we made love, it was like a symphony. Each movement orchestrated, yet we were always able to ad-lib, to improvise, and to pick up from each other's improvisations. It was like unto a work of art.
The memory of her love would still sustain me. It had to. It was all I had left.
"Hey, Willow, look," Tara pointed excitedly. "Giles." I followed the path of her finger, and sure enough, there was our favorite Watcher(that is to say, the only member of the Watcher's Council that we Scoobs didn't despise!), looking quite out of place amid the younger, and more casually dressed, clientele. He still had his genetic disposition for tweed, his old jacket with the leather patches at the elbows must have been hot under the bright lights of the Bronze. He looked around nervously, found us, and moved toward our seats.
"Giles?" I asked, amazed to see him here.
"Yes, I received a message from Xander to meet him here," he admitted, sliding his finger under the collar of his shirt. "So," he added, looking around. "This is the Bronze? So named, no doubt, because you could smelt bronze in this heat."
"Hey," Tara teased him, "you see anyone else wearing tweed?"
"Take the jacket off," I suggested, "you'll be a lot more comfortable."
"I'll take the jacket off," Giles said, "but I don't think I'll be any more comfortable." He removed his jacket, placed it on the back of a chair, and sat down. "Believe me, this doesn't change my opinion of your generation's approach to music," he added, having to raise his voice to be heard, even out of the way of the amplifiers as we were.
"Is it not the duty of each generation to annoy the previous generation with their style of music, dress and other tastes?" someone asked behind us. Tara and I turned toward the familiar voice, and that's when we saw him.
Xander, wearing a pale blue short-sleeved shirt.
And a badge.
And an empty gun holster.
Giles' jaw was hanging freely from his face, while Tara's eyes were bugging out of their sockets. "Oh my goddess," she whispered. She stood up, appraised Xander's uniform, and smiled gleefully. "Xander! You joined the Village People!" She laughed loudly, and started waving her hands above her head, singing; "It's fun to stay at the Y---M, C, A!"
"Funny, Tara," Xander answered, smiling. "Seriously, people, as of today, I am Officer Alexander Harris of the Sunnydale PD!"
"You serious?" I asked. "You're not pulling our legs?"
"Not even a slight tug," Xander answered. "I'm now a cop. I entered the police academy six months ago, just after I passed my high school equivalency tests. Whaddya think?"
Tara, Giles and I just glanced at each other, appraising each other's looks. Giles then stood up, and grasped Xander's hand firmly. "Congratulations, boy," he announced. "I want you to know that I am inordinately proud of you."
"Yeah, so am I," I added, my mouth finally catching up with my brain. Tara also shook his hand, saying, "You'll make a fine officer, Xander."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tara," Xander said, smiling. I could see it in his eyes, his stance, his posture. He hadn't just decided two weeks ago that he was going to be a cop, this was something that he was determined to make happen, and it did. Ever since his demon-girlfriend Anya disappeared after the final battle with Adam ('Good Riddance' I thought), I was afraid that Xander would be even more directionless than I was. But instead, apparently, he used her departure as the impetus to finally change his life. I had been aware that he was attending the community college to achieve his GURs (General Undergraduate Requirements), but I had no idea that he was attending the police academy as well. I guess if you get kicked in the butt enough times, you start to get moving.
"I'm not on duty now, so I left my service revolver in a safe at home. I just kept the uniform on to show you guys. Yeah, I'm walking the beat at nights right now," Xander explained as we sat down and talked further. "No glamour, but after dealing with vampires on a regular basis, it's the proverbial walk in the park. Besides, now that the Hellmouth's closed for good, I needed to feel useful again. And wearing this uniform somehow does that for me. It's hard to explain, really. It's like I finally feel like I belong on this planet, like I'm not just visiting. You know what I mean?"
"Yeah," I answered ruefully. Ever since losing Buffy, I thought much the same thing about myself. When was I going to finally feel like my being here was justified?
A crash of glass from the skylight shattered my latest go-round of self pity, as a figure plunged down from the roof onto the dance floor. The figure stood up, glared at the dancers, and morphed into its game face. A vampire. Even though the Hellmouth was no longer a going concern, there were still a few odd vampires around. I knew that Giles was taking care of most of them, mostly inexperienced newbies, or weakened by lack of blood. This one, however, looked like a veteran. Obviously one who knew its business. It grabbed at one of the girls on the floor, and held her in a hammerlock. "Nobody moves, nobody dies!" it shouted. "I'm just gonna take my girlfriend out for a walk, nobody follows me. Got it?"
The girl, a young(I guessed 18) Asian featured young woman, smiled at her assailant, and said, "Got it!" She then threw the beast over her, and into the wall. She then withdrew a wooden stake and easily impaled the monster. The vampire was quickly reduced to ash, and the crowd looked aghast at what they had seen.
The young woman turned toward us, and smiled at us. Walking toward our seats, she nodded, saying, "You must be the Scooby Gang. My watcher's told me so much about you. Oh, I'm Sandra Ogawa. The new Slayer. My watcher should be around here somewhere, she wanted to observe me in action."
"Indeed," a rich, chocolate voice rang out behind Sandra. Emerging from the crowd was a svelte black woman, mid-thirties I guessed. Her voice was lightly accented in British, and her walk was confident. She regarded us with a look of amusement, and then turned toward Giles. "Hello, Ripper," she greeted the surprised ex-Watcher.
Giles blinked as he recognized the new Watcher. "Denise! My word, it's good to see you."
"Surprisingly enough, Rupert," she smiled sweetly, "the feeling's mutual."
We all stood around, looking at the two Watchers, until finally Xander, in his unique style, said, "I'm going out on a limb here; you two know each other."
"Indeed we do," Giles answered, slightly flustered as he realized that we were in the room with him. He started to introduce us; "Willow, Tara, Xander, this formidable woman is Denise Parkinson, the youngest person ever named to the Watcher's Council."
"And," she added, "the first to leave it voluntarily. But by no means the last." This revelation surprised Giles even further. "Oh yes, Giles. The Watcher's Council is in disarray. That's one of the reasons I came here. But perhaps we could talk somewhere where the decibel level is below that of a jet engine at full throttle."
"A capital idea," he answered. "Let us adjourn to my townhouse."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
"...So the Watcher's Council renounced Quentin's actions in the Belial Incident, as they called it," Denise explained. "They told the rest of the Watchers and Slayers in training that Quentin acted independently of the Council, and that they would never condone one of their own making a pact with a demon." We all shivered at the thought; Xander, Giles and myself were present when Quentin and the demon Belial hammered out the contract that would have given Sunnydale over to the Hellmouth. If it weren't for a time-traveling Buffy from the future, Belial would have unleashed the forces of the Hellmouth on the world.
"You believe them?" Giles asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.
"I wouldn't believe them if they said that water was wet," Denise barked. "Increasingly, I've been finding evidence that the Council has been more interested in controlling their Slayers, not aiding them. Take the case of Sandra here. A year and a half ago, they tried to force me to inject her with muscle relaxant, to weaken her for some rite of passage. The muscle relaxant would probably have killed her. That's when I decided to leave the council, and take Sandra with me. Too many lies, half-truths, cover-ups. And judging from what I've heard, I'm not the only one who feels that way. Indeed many Watchers have defected, to strike out on their own. I have no wish for the Council to undermine Sandra's efforts. Sandra has proven to be an effective Slayer, one of whom I am quite proud..."
"Please, Ms. Parkinson," Sandra blushed. "Not in front of the Scooby Gang."
Denise snickered at Sandra's embarrassment. "Anyway, one of the reasons that I came here was to speak with you, Rupert. I wish to discuss rebuilding the Watcher's Council. You are one of the few senior watchers I can respect, even if you no longer hold that title personally. The Council needs to be reorganized."
Giles seemed genuinely moved by her entreaty. "I appreciate your thinking of me in that regard," Giles stated. "I have no desire to return to England, however..."
"Who said the Council has to be located in England?" Denise asked. "It's that blind devotion to tradition and ritual that has kept the Council grounded in the Dark Ages. With modern communications, with the Internet, there wouldn't be the need for the senior Watchers to be away from the action, so to speak."
"Watch it, Parkinson," Xander quipped. "You're talking to the last of the red hot Luddites over here."
"Yes, his hatred of modern technology has become the stuff of legends," Denise joked. I started to like her immediately, which surprised me, considering my opinions about the Watcher's Council in general.
"Actually," she continued, "Giles has become something of a legend among the rank and file himself, him and Buffy. The senior Watchers may have had little use for you, but you are much admired among your peers. That's why I hope that you'll consider my proposal. If you were to be instrumental in reconstructing the Council, many of the other Watchers would follow your lead."
Giles pursed his lips and hummed thoughtfully. "An intriguing offer, Denise. I will have to consider it."
"That's all I ask, Rupert."
"So, how about you, Sandra?" Tara asked, leaning in closer. "When did you become a slayer?"
"About two years ago," Sandra answered. She hadn't spoken much before now. A bit of a quiet one, she was. "All I knew was that some--thing was attacking my mother, then I'm making like Keanu Reeves from 'The Matrix'."
"Okay," Xander figured it out. "She must have become the next slayer when Buffy sent Faith into a coma." Giles nodded in agreement, recalling Buffy's battle with the psycho- slayer.
"Do you enjoy being a slayer?" Tara asked. I could sense that she was starting to like this new slayer.
"I'll admit, it's not the life I signed on for," Sandra said. "But once I got started, I began to feel a responsibility. And from what Denise has told me, reading me the reports on Buffy Summers, I've kind of taken to her as a role model. I was sorry to hear of her passing, but I can only hope that I can follow in her footsteps."
"Just remember to brush up on your jokes," Xander offered. "It ain't enough to slay vampires, you gotta humiliate 'em."
"And don't forget to name your favorite stake," Tara offered. "Buffy called hers Mr. Pointy." I sat there silently, watching as my friends slipped effortlessly into their old roles. Like they hadn't gotten out of high school.
"And you, Mr. Giles," Sandra asked, "what would you advise?"
"Me? Well," Giles pondered the question. "Listen to your Watcher. But first, listen to your instincts. Buffy was never afraid to let me know when she thought that I was wrong. Trust your instincts. They're you're greatest asset as a Slayer. They'll never let you down."
"Thank you Mr. Giles," Sandra then turned to me. "And you, Willow? I understand that you were closer to Buffy than anyone else. Would you have any advice for me?"
I looked at her, amazed that she would ask me, the one who got Buffy killed in the first place, for advice. I just kept looking at her, until I started to chuckle. My chuckle quickly turned into a maniacal laugh, as everything I've kept bottled up for the last year just spilled over like bad yeast.
"You want my advice?" I said, my voice rising with every word. "I'll give you some advice. Go home. Go back to where you came from. Get the hell out of Dodge. Forget you ever met us, forget you ever heard of Watchers, or Slayers, or vampires or any of that crap because all it'll get you is an early grave! It doesn't matter, none of it does! You'll get killed by some random vamp or werewolf or something, then another slayer will show up, and it all starts over again! IT DOESN'T MATTER!"
It wasn't until I noticed Tara removing her hands from her ears that I realized that I was shouting at the top of my lungs. I looked around at the others, seeing shock, hurt, concern and pity in their eyes. I couldn't take it, not the pity. I had to get out. Not saying a word, I grabbed my coat, and rushed out the door. I didn't know where I was going, nor did I care.
I just had to get away.