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3.1.1 FEAR/ FORM/ WORD Eurynome the neverending
descend: to worsen or sink in estimation thread: something continuous or drawn out
3.1.2 FEAR/ FORM/ WORLD at the end of the World, the Slayer is thinking of shelter. she gathers in those she loves: one carpenter, one jumped-up hedge witch, one key of pure green energy, one souled vampire, one ex-watcher. she gathers in those she needs: one ex-demon, one useless twit of a boy, any number of Potentials dropped on her doorstep like so many foundlings. like her mother before her, she builds her fortress inside home. her views on love may not include hot chocolate, but she keeps them fed and warm and bedded down. her views on the nurture of fledglings, endearingly, do lean heavily to training-with-weapons. her views on the need for vampires are contested, but she means to win that argument. nevertheless she gathers, and she shelters them, and for the Slayer this is how she loves. where is her own shelter within this storm? she has been Chosen, yielding obligation. she has been targeted, and so for her there is no safety. she feels them pulling at her, children, wanting her attention and respect and her affection while each dream she has, each waking moment, focusses on strategies for battle. but the Slayer has been reborn
this time. she has rebuilt, painfully, all her connections to the world.
she is no longer a sacrifice or pawn. she is not simply a Bringer of Death.
this time she casts herself as Protector, not merely as Destroyer. this
Slayer, at last, is whole.
3.1.3 FEAR/ FORM/ MAKER ... a game played by the shepherds of western Asia before the days of Homer. It was played with pebbles in a square divided by certain lines. In the centre of the square was a small figure of a sheepfold, in which the pebbles were kept....Very gradually its form changed somewhat, and the sheepfold became a mound, or barrier, or dividing line, and the game assumed a military aspect; while the idea of shelter or inviolability that had attached to the sheepfold became an attribute of one of the pieces used in play, a characteristic of the king in chess today. (Catherine Perry Hargrave,
A History of Playing Cards)
3.2.1 FEAR/ DIVINATION/ PROPHECY She will sacrifice all she
has, and damage herself. She will sacrifice all she is, and disappear.
But in the end she will rise from the fire before the final battle strong
and whole, a swift sharp blade that will not bend or break.
3.2.2 FEAR/ DIVINATION/ TARA They're so close. Will it be like this the whole way down? Yes. But I can hear Willow singing invocation at them. If they will listen, she can hold that line. I have dreams of this, you know. Since always. They are clutching at me, pulling, entreating. So not a treat. They won't stay down. Are they yours? Yes. Mine. All the ones I've slain. No peace for them, no peace for Buffy. The gift of peace you make when you Slay is meant for the living world. Yes. But which world, then, is really mine?
3.2.3 FEAR/ DIVINATION/ FATES Step back.
3.3.1 FEAR/ CHORUS/ FORCES OF EVIL Well, has a memo come up from below yet on the matter? You think they're not gonna move on it at all? Jeez, you'd think Linwood was still in charge. Well, I have everything in place. Anything goes wrong, you'll find me holding another staff meeting. I have a report that white hats are already chanting. Let's get this show on the wide paved road the minute clearance comes through. So what's our position on this gambit exactly? Doesn't take a timeshifter - and hey, thanks for the lift - to know this throws the broad general picture right out of whack. And there seems to be a real rash of incorporeals at the moment in all dimensions, never let it be said that I'm not in style. I do have this one big personal question as to why you've called me in, given that the Holtz gambit didn't exactly work out for either of us, and I seem to recall that betrayal was our favored mode during our time together. Care to comment on that? Holtz thing actually worked
out to our complete satisfaction, although of course your mileage may differ.
Angel has plenty to brood about, believe me, and so does the kid, which
leaves them in the best of cold storage waiting for the end. But actually,
I was hoping for your help with another matter. The jar, by the way, is
safe from you: don't give it a moment's thought. Now, let's confer.
3.3.2 FEAR/ CHORUS/ FORCES OF BALANCE Okay, we don't have enough
parameters yet to even run the stats. As a general rule, the Slayer's not
part of our crew. It's only in Special Projects we sometimes use her. And
the vampire, we didn't even have our eye on him, the other one sure, but
this one went right under our radar, never a major player come apocalypse
time, killed a few Slayers but as you know they are a renewable resource,
the military doesn't report to us so we didn't know about the chip, we
didn't know about loving the Slayer, standing in for the Slayer, getting
the soul (Lloyd is way behind on his paperwork), and Skip was only keeping
an eye on the other souled vamp. So here's the precis: the Slayer's gone
down and her crew is already chanting, Angel's crew has retrieved the second
Slayer and is ready to roll, the Firm is marshalling forces but waiting
on a White Room paper, none or all of the prophecies may apply, this particular
Slayer's always a wild card, and we still don't have enough input to produce
stats. Recommend wait and see, heavy on the see.
3.3.3 FEAR/ CHORUS/ FORCES OF GOOD I never really understood until I was in there with her tonight. How do you mean? How all alone she really
is inside. How does she ever go on? When I think that she laughs, and cries,
and cares, and lets us help a bit, while all the time inside she is so
far away. The distances she crosses when she lets us share a little of
herself: it's the bravest thing she ever does, Giles, every time she lets
us in.
3.4.1 FEAR/ SOLILOQUY/ ANGEL To kill this girl, you've got to love her: Angelus' plan in a nutshell. Always in there waiting for his one good day. See, with Cordy, it's different. She'd never trust me that far, and she'd stake me in a, well not quite heartbeat I guess, the moment he emerged. Buffy though, ran me through once to save the world, but when she gave her trust she never really took it back. She really did mean everything for keeps. Maybe that's love, you know, maybe I just don't understand it even yet. All I really know is, because that was the way she was I couldn't ever trust her to do what was necessary. And I guess it never occurred to me, the enormity involved in counting on her to do the execution. Maybe it's a Slayer thing: because she was never afraid of battle, I never factored in the obstacles her heart presented. Okay, maybe that's another sign that I don't quite get love. I'm really a whole lot better at making them fear me than love me. I suppose maybe that would be Liam's point of view: like Angelus, he took his pleasure wherever he pleased and took no prisoners. Darla had such contempt for love. Drusilla both feared and loved me, but of course I had already made her mad. William, a rebel to the end, refused to give me the satisfaction of either one, no matter how much he paid. I still want Wesley's respect
and love although I tried to kill him, and still expect him to kill Angelus
without a qualm. Did I love Connor as a baby, or was that pride of ownership?
Do I love him now? How can I tell? I do try to protect the family I've
made here. Usually. When I think of it. When I'm not pissed about something,
or preoccupied. Does that mean I love them? And yet Darla, her soul only
borrowed, loved Connor enough to die for him. And Drusilla and William,
soulless and damned, did love one another for a long time.
3.4.2 FEAR/ SOLILOQUY/ SPIKE She could always have killed me, you know. I wouldn't have minded, really, if that had been her... judgment. Her calling, her call. But she wouldn't kill me, wouldn't leave me alone, wouldn't let me in, wouldn't trust me. Too right, couldn't trust me unsouled. Couldn't help, and wouldn't hinder. And it was only much later that I thought of Angel, and how far exactly he could be trusted, with or without soul, in her own experience. Not that I was, by a long shot, ever the same as him, damned or undamned. But there was evil in me, souled or not. I was still Dead. And still Unworthy. William - was a bad man. And had done things, to her, that... she was still afraid. And she was still... right. As a performance, it needed a bit of tweaking, that's all. A bit less Danse Macabre, a bit more Waltz, maybe. Dancing with Slayers, not like it ever lost its charm. Though recently, she tended to be exhausting. Waiting for her to suss out where she stored her heart.... No dancing, though, with shades, here in this place. Why didn't she kill me, so many times when she ought to have done it? Did I ever, really, intend to kill her, or was it always that other dance that led me here? I don't know, any more, for sure what the demon wanted. What did she see in me, that made me worth more than dust for so long? She trusted me. With her family, with my promises, even to let me feed on flesh when I was only flesh to her. I broke every promise I ever made to her. But I so much wanted to deserve that trust. Doesn't wanting count as currency? Didn't think so. All that lush life that spilled out of her, all the time, and suddenly there I was, caught in the headlights. Transfixed. Transfigured. Better for her this way,
I reckon. What could I give her, really? Death and the Maiden. Just maybe
she'll do better with another style of dance. Would have liked to guard
her back, though, in the hard days to come. And played 'usu daemon' maybe
to her Saint Joan. Would have liked to stay and see her happy, no matter
what (or who) it took. Right, too brilliant, the irony of Spike revealed
as just another poet brought down by love. As to who killed whom in the
end, verdict's still out on that one.
3.4.3 FEAR/ SOLILOQUY/ BUFFY I think it's the way they
reach out that makes it so hard. The living and the dead. They won't let
go. They all want in. There's no peace anywhere. I felt safe with my mom,
who loved me and didn't need me to give her anything. And sometimes when
I look at Dawn, I feel... home. I feel loved sometimes, when Giles is here,
when Xander and Willow and even Anya choose to stand with me. But the only
moments I've ever felt safe since mom died were with Spike. And how weird
is that?
3.5.1 FEAR/ ECHO/ WITNESS ARIAS She shuts them out. She behaves so badly. She's afraid. She's the Slayer. She's not supposed to be afraid. What kind of a hero is that? She's just a girl.
3.5.2 FEAR/ ECHO/ MEMORY What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
(T.S. Eliot, "The Burial of the Dead", from The Wasteland)
3.5.3 FEAR/ ECHO/ INVOCATION Spirits of the Dead, grant passage to the Chosen One on this her journey.
3.6.1 FEAR/ PLAINSONG/ BARD'S TALE And the Slayer came to the
keeper of the third gate. "Let me through", she said. "Where is your token?"
"I come unprepared. What would you have from me?" "All of your fears."
"Done." And the gate opened, and the Slayer walked through empty-handed,
her burden lighter. And descended the stairs.
3.6.2 FEAR/ PLAINSONG/ LYRIC down through the dark she runs
3.6.3 FEAR/ PLAINSONG/ BALLAD what will you give me now for love
what will you give me now to die
what will you give me now to hold
what will you give me to believe
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