An Unaccomplished Fate
Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG-15
Disclaimer: I don’t own most of these characters, and I’m not making any money off of the ones that are mine.
Summary: The sequel to Avocation and Under the Sun. Spike and Buffy’s relationship is on solid ground at last, but a new prophecy threatens everything they hold dear. The bonds of family and friendship will be tested, lives will be threatened, and the entire world will hang on the choice of one vampire.
A/N: Any resemblance to canon is pretty
much
accidental.
Chapter 34
“Or shall I live your
epitaph to make,/Or you survive when I in earth am rotten,/From hence
your
memory death cannot take,/Although in me each part will be
forgotten./Your name
from hence immortal life shall have,/Though I, once gone, to all the
world must
die;/The earth can yield me but a common grave,/When you entombed in
men’s eyes
shall lie./Your monument shall be my gentle verse,/Which eyes not yet
created
shall o’er-read,/And tongues to be your being shall rehearse/When all
the
breathers of this world are dead./You still shall live—such virtue hath
my pen—/Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.”
~William
Shakespeare, “Sonnet 81”
Quinn woke with a start when
the spare room window slid up.
“Wha—”
“It’s me,” Buffy said. “Get
up. The Knights are on their
way.”
Quinn was used to waking at a
moment’s notice, and she
rolled out of bed, fully dressed. “Ready.”
Buffy gave her an approving
smile. “Where’s Tara?”
“I don’t know. Wesley and
Willow took your bed, and we shut
the robot down to save on batteries. I’ll check the kitchen. Are we
going out
the back?”
“Yeah. Spike’s going to stay
out front, to make sure they
don’t spring anything on us.”
Quinn nodded, grabbing her
weapons and heading out to the
kitchen. Tara was standing at the kitchen sink, looking out at the
backyard,
sipping a cup of tea. “We need to go.”
Tara turned to face her.
“What’s going on?”
“Buffy just climbed through
the spare room window. The
Knights are on their way, and we need to get out.”
To her credit, Tara remained
unruffled. “I’ll put my shoes
on.”
By the time Tara had finished
dressing, Wesley, Willow, and
Buffy had joined Quinn in the kitchen. They went out the back door
silently,
moving as one well-trained unit. Quinn knew that no matter what
happened,
whether she stayed in Sunnydale or not, she would never again find a
group like
this, one where she fit in as she had nowhere else, not even in the
Academy.
Buffy led them unerringly to
Spike, and they all watched as
the Knights took positions around the townhouse. Quinn counted about at
least
eight that she could see; she wasn’t stupid enough to believe that all
of them
were visible.
“Aren’t they worried about
drawing a crowd?” Tara asked,
mystified.
Spike shrugged. “My guess is
that they’re waiting for dark
to strike. No one in this town concerns themselves much with what goes
on after
the sun goes down.”
“They’re making a move,” Quinn
observed, watching two of the
Knights break off from the rest of the group to head around the side of
the
house. “You think they’re going to break in?”
“Looks like it,” Spike said.
“Okay, same drill as before.
Wes, you and Quinn head to the east side. There’s a window big enough
for the
both of you over there. Break the glass if you have to. Tara, Willow,
take the
north side.”
“We’re sticking together,”
Buffy inserted, giving Spike a
hard look. “Right?”
Spike grinned. “We’re going to
come up behind them as soon
as they head inside the house, but our unwelcome guests need to be dead
or
incapacitated before they alert the rest of that lot that we’re not
inside.”
“Of course,” Wesley said
mildly.
Quinn knew that tone of voice,
and it did not bode well for
the Knights.
They paired off then, careful
not to be seen or make any
noise. The eastern window Spike had mentioned was unlocked, and it slid
up
easily. Quinn hated to admit it, but she was disappointed when they
found the
unconscious bodies of the two Knights; Willow and Tara had managed to
incapacitate them first. Between the four of them, they managed to lock
the two
men in the guest bathroom.
“Bugger it,” Quinn muttered.
“I’m in the mood for a good
brawl.”
“You might yet get it,” Wesley
replied reprovingly, checking
his pistol for the third time. He fiddled with the silencer to make
sure it was
screwed on tight and gave a satisfied nod. “Not long now.”
“Shh.” Willow glared at both
of them.
Quinn exchanged an amused look
with Tara, then the front
door burst open, and there was no time to be amused or even to think
about
anything but dodging the next blow and avoiding the Knights’ swords.
She could barely keep track of
the others in the melee; the
pros and cons of fighting in such close quarters were obvious. The
Knights were
unable to use their numbers to full advantage, nor could they utilize
their
weapons, which required a lot more space to swing around.
Wesley’s guns were all but
useless, however, since he risked
hitting an ally if he attempted to hit an enemy—no matter how accurate
his aim. Quinn and the others were forced to rely on knives and
hand-to-hand
combat, which wasn’t terribly effective against men in armor.
Quinn began forcing some of
the Knights towards the front
door, trying to ease the crush. Tara and Willow followed, using magical
means
to push the armored men out the door. Once outside, she could spare a
moment to
breathe, wondering what the neighbors were thinking, just as Spike and
Buffy
forced the rest of the Knights out onto the front lawn, closely
followed by
Wesley.
Quinn could feel the hum in
the air that indicated magic was
being worked, and she saw Tara and Willow link hands to cast another
spell,
hopefully one that would affect the Knights and no one else.
But if she could feel the
gathering power that the spell
entailed, the Knights could, too, and Quinn saw one of the Knights turn
towards
Tara and Willow. The witches’ backs were to him, and he lunged, his
sword a
silver blur, the point appearing in the center of Willow’s chest.
Quinn heard Wesley’s anguished
cry, Buffy and Spike’s twin shouts
of fury, and she felt the shift in the balance of the fight as
everything
seemed to stop.
~~~~~
Joyce perched on the edge of
the bed, giving Giles a
disapproving glare. “You should be resting.”
“I’m fine, Joyce.”
“No, you’re not,” she replied
with some asperity. “You were
badly injured, and the doctor ordered rest. But if you really want
something to
do…”
Before Giles knew what was
going on, Joyce had Thomas
nestled next to his right side—the one without the broken ribs. “And
you
need to take more pain medication,” she announced. “I’ll get it for
you.”
Giles relaxed back into the
pillows, knowing a losing
argument when he was in the middle of one, and cradled his son. The
Council
operatives had threatened Thomas and Joyce if he didn’t cooperate, and
he
couldn’t say he’d been sorry to hear that the lot of them had been
killed.
Even so, the men had managed
to do quite a bit of damage in
a very short period of time, and he was hurting just as badly as Joyce
suspected. She’d ordered him to bed as soon as they had arrived at
Robert’s,
and Robert had readily promised to send all of Giles’ meals up to him.
It was really too bad; the
glimpses of the decorations in
the mansion were tantalizing. He had a strong desire to explore, and to
ask
their host all sorts of questions. Unfortunately, he was unlikely to be
allowed
out of bed for anything but the absolutely necessary for the next few
days.
When Joyce returned with a
glass of water and a handful of
pills, Oscar followed her into the room. “I trust you’re comfortable,
Rupert.”
“Quite.” Giles managed a smile
for the other man, who was
quickly becoming a close friend. There weren’t many people who
understood what
it was like to be a Watcher with an active Slayer, fewer still who had
a Slayer
who was like a daughter. “And yourself?”
“This house is amazing,” Oscar
admitted. “It’s a pity you
can’t see more of it.”
Giles grimaced as he swallowed
the pills Joyce handed him.
“Thank you so much for pointing that out.”
Oscar grinned. “I came bearing
good news.”
Giles perked up at that. “Have
your heard from Buffy, or
Quinn?” He thought it unlikely that his Slayer would choose to call
someone
other than himself or Joyce, but it was possible that she’d delegated
the task
to Quinn. He knew she and Spike were planning on going after the
Knights as
soon as they’d left Sunnydale, and he expected an update soon.
“No, I’m sorry, but I did hear
from Singh, our new Council
head.”
Giles’ eyebrows went up.
“Arthur Singh?”
Oscar nodded. “He called to
inform me that he had personally
rescinded the death order on Quinn, and to apologize for any
inconvenience said
order might have caused. It was a very civilized conversation.”
Giles snorted. “I can imagine.”
Joyce frowned. “Wait. He
called to apologize about ordering
Quinn killed, but he hasn’t called us about Rupert being tortured?”
Oscar shook his head. “As
Rupert is no longer with the
Council, he probably feels as though he doesn’t need to respond,
particularly
since some of their best men were killed.”
“And that makes us even?”
Joyce’s voice was rising
rapidly, and Giles winced as Thomas
shifted in his sleep. “Love, you’re going to wake Thomas.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What
happened to Travers?” she asked in
a very quiet, very dangerous tone.
Oscar cleared his throat.
“Forcible retirement, I’m afraid,
along with Roger Wyndam-Pryce and a few other members of their cabal.”
Joyce hissed a few words that
she rarely said, quietly
enough so as not to wake Tommy. “Fine. I’m sure they’ll get what’s
coming to
them sooner or later.”
In Giles’ experience, that was
probably wishful thinking,
but he hadn’t the heart to point that out to his wife.
Joyce let Oscar out of the
room, then laid down on the bed
next to Giles, head propped on her hand. “You should sleep.”
“Will you stay?”
“Of course.” She reached for
his good hand. “Thank God
you’re okay.”
Giles managed to smile around
the bruises on his face. “I
couldn’t leave you.”
“I wish I could make you
promise not to put yourself in
danger like that again.” Her voice was soft and wistful, her eyes
focused on
Tommy.
Giles squeezed her hand. “I
wish I could make that promise.”
They said nothing else about
the Council, or his injuries,
or the fear they had each felt; Giles simply held Joyce’s hand until
she had
fallen asleep, and he followed soon after.
~~~~~
Tara felt the change in
Willow’s aura when the sword went
through her chest. She knew it was a mortal wound immediately, and she
watched
Wesley fling himself across the lawn, through the melee, ignoring
everything
but Willow.
Quinn quickly moved in front
of them, defending Willow and
Wesley as he cradled her in his arms. Tara heard him ordering Willow to
hold
on, as well as the breath bubbling in Willow’s lungs. Blood was already
staining her lips, and Tara knew that her friend was dying.
And she knew that she could
prevent it.
Tara knelt next to Willow and
Wesley, gently but firmly
moving Wesley’s hands out of the way to place her own over the wound.
She felt,
rather than saw, Spike and Buffy move to encircle them, holding off the
remaining Knights as they tried to press their advantage.
“Tara,” Wesley whispered
brokenly. “I don’t—”
“It’s going to be okay,” she
promised. Tara felt herself
growing warm, and in the gathering dusk, the front yard began to grow
brighter.
With a sense of detachment, she noted that her hands and arms were
glowing, and
Tara realized that she was glowing.
Tara couldn’t spare the energy
to do more than notice,
however. She was too busy focusing on muscle and bone and sinew, easing
into
Willow’s mind to guide her body’s healing process, providing the
resources
Willow didn’t have.
She wasn’t sure she would have
been able to heal anyone
else, but Tara had been working magic with Willow for nearly two years
now, and
once Wesley realized what she was doing, he began feeding Willow power
as well.
When Willow took her first
pain-free breath, Tara knew that
she’d been successful. Tara removed her hands and met Wesley’s eyes. He
nodded
and drew Willow close to his chest. Willow would sleep now, and when
she awoke,
she would be as good as new.
Tara gave herself a mental
shake to clear her mind and
slowly stood. To her surprise, the remaining Knights were kneeling,
swords
point-first in the ground, hands clasped around the hilt—and unless
Tara
was greatly mistaken, they had knelt for her.
Spike appeared at her side and
nudged her with his elbow.
“Say something ‘messenger from God-like.’”
“What?” Tara tried not to
squawk, but she was afraid that’s
what it sounded like.
“They think you’re a messenger
from God,” Spike hissed. “But
they’re going to get over it in a moment. Tell them to go away or
something.”
Tara wished Spike could be a
little more specific about “or
something,” but an idea suddenly occurred to her. She cleared her
throat. “I
bring a message from God. You have served him well, but he has chosen
another
to continue his work.”
“What have we done to garner
his disfavor?” one of the
Knights asked, sounding as though he wasn’t entirely convinced.
Tara attempted to increase the
light pouring off of her
skin; it had been diminishing, but now the light flared up again,
causing
everyone to shield their eyes. “You doubt the word of God?”
“No!” A different Knight spoke
this time. “No, we do not
doubt the word of God.”
“But how do we know she’s
God’s messenger?” That question
came from the same Knight who had asked the first question, and Tara
raised her
hand in his direction.
The spell she had used on her
brother was easily duplicated,
and she thought her accompanying pronouncement made her point clear.
“Because
you dared to question God, you will be struck dumb. Only when you have
obeyed
his orders and left this place will you regain your capacity for
speech.”
“But what are we to do?” one
of the younger Knights asked.
Annoyance sharpened Tara’s
voice. “Go feed the poor, care
for the sick, defend the weak and powerless—just make yourselves
useful.
Now go, before God commands your destruction for questioning his will.”
Tara couldn’t quite believe it
when the Knights actually
rose and shuffled off, stunned expressions on their faces. She assumed
that
came from having your entire life’s purpose ripped away in moments, but
Tara
couldn’t say she felt sorry for them.
When they were gone, Tara
focused on not glowing, and after a few moments, the
light died down
completely.
Quinn broke the silence first.
“That was fucking brilliant.”
Tara turned to face the
others. “It wasn’t too much?”
Spike started to laugh. “I’d
say it was just right.”
Buffy knelt next to Wesley.
“How is she?”
“I’m fine.” Willow’s eyes
fluttered open. “What did I miss?”
Buffy snorted. “A lot. We’ll
fill you in later.”
Wesley started to lift her,
but Willow batted at his arms.
“Really, Wes, I’m fine—really tired, but good as new.”
Tara watched as Wesley
reluctantly set Willow on her feet
and let her go; Tara’s eyes met Willow’s, and they both smiled.
“Thanks,” Willow said softly.
Tara shrugged. “Any time.”
“We should all get some rest,”
Buffy announced. “We’re going
to have to deal with Glory next.”
Tara was under no illusions;
they had gotten lucky with the
Knights, but Glory would be their toughest opponent yet.
~~~~~
Spike pulled Buffy closer,
listening to her sleepy murmurs
while he stared at the ceiling. Now that the Council and the Knights
were taken
care of, Glory was next on the list—and Glory was something that could
kill all of them and not break a sweat.
The cell phone on the bedside
table began buzzing, and Spike
reached out to grab it before it could wake Buffy. “Yeah?”
“Spike? Is this a bad time?”
Giles’ voice was clear and much
less strained than it had been the last time Spike had seen him.
“No. We were just catching up
on some sleep.”
“Tara was quite the marvel, I
take it.”
Spike smiled. “That’s a good
way to put it.” He took a deep
breath. “What did you find, Rupert?”
“Am I that obvious?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. Since I am not
being allowed out of bed, I’ve
had a lot more time to read. It seems that Glory has a limited time to
use
Dawn’s blood. After that, she’ll be stuck here.”
Spike frowned. “How much
longer?”
“Not long,” Giles warned him.
“She’ll be getting desperate.”
“I understand.”
They exchanged their goodbyes,
and Spike ended the call. He
could tell from Buffy’s breathing that she was awake. “How much of that
did you
hear?”
“A lot.” Buffy shifted so that
she could meet his eyes.
“What are you thinking?”
“We do this alone.” Spike
already knew that Buffy was going
to agree with him. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”
“I agree. How are we going to
find Glory?”
Spike smiled. “I think we go
for a walk with April. I’d be
surprised if Glory didn’t already know we have the Key, and even have a
good
idea of who it is.”
Buffy snorted. “Or what it is,
but yeah. I’d agree.”
Spike pressed a kiss to her
lips. “Let’s get going, then.
We’ve got a Hellgod to find.”
~~~~~
Willow stirred and stretched,
feeling absolutely
amazing—which was pretty crazy for someone who had been staring death
in
the face the day before.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
Wesley leaned over her and
pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Breakfast?”
She beamed at him. “You
brought me breakfast in bed?”
“Of course. You need to regain
your strength.”
Willow scooted herself up into
a seated position. “I feel
really good.”
“Then allow me to pamper you,
and you can enjoy it.” Wesley
put a tray in front of her, complete with orange juice, buttered toast,
and a
bowl of fruit.
“When did you get all of this?”
“I went out this morning.” He
gave an embarrassed shrug.
“So, you feel alright?”
“Better than alright.” Willow
began to dig into her breakfast,
suddenly famished. “How are the others?”
“I called Spike. He and Buffy
are planning on resting up
today. They think we’ve got another day before we need to start looking
for
Glory in earnest.” Wesley smiled. “I believe that Quinn took Tara home,
and I haven’t
spoken to either of them.”
Willow laughed. “I wouldn’t
have expected you to. Are Xander
and Anya back yet? Has anyone talked to them?”
“No, not yet. I was planning
on calling Giles shortly. Do
you mind?”
Willow waved him on, intent on
her toast and fruit. She
could hear Wesley’s side of the conversation, and it sounded to her
like Xander
and Anya had made it back to Sunnydale safely, and Anya was opening the
bookstore back up.
As far as Willow could tell,
it was business as usual, and
she thought they could certainly use a little time off before they had
to deal
with Glory.
“Wait, what?” Wesley’s sharp
tone broke her out of her happy
thoughts. “When did you talk to him?”
Willow frowned, and Wesley
said, “No, Giles, don’t worry.
I’m sure it was just a miscommunication. I’ll let you know.” He hung up
the
phone and turned to Willow. “Spike talked to Giles this morning. Giles
said he
was under the impression that Spike was going after Glory immediately.”
Willow didn’t like the sound
of that. “You’d better call
him.”
When Wesley began to pace
after his call to Spike failed,
and his attempt to call Buffy ended the same way, Willow began to
seriously
worry. “Call Xander,” she suggested. “At least he’ll be able to check
the map
and get their location.”