Another Dawn
by Sanguine
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG-13 for language, violence and general angst
Disclaimer: The usual disclaimer applies: it's all Joss, all the time.
Summary: A post-"The Gift" fic
Another Dawn, Chapter 22
Xander Harris removed his hard hat and withdrew his beeping cell phone from its case.
"You have one new message. To play this message, press one. To delete this message press . . ."
"Hi Xander. It's Buffy. Sorry to bother you during the day, but it's important."
Xander's mouth twitched.
"Anyway, if you could meet me at the Magic Box at 6pm tonight, we need to have a meeting of the Scoobies. It's really important."
Xander pressed the delete button. Oh, he'd be there, all right. With bells on, baby.
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Willow brushed a tear from her eye. Her vision blurred as she tried to make out the words of the spell. She couldn't screw this up. This was the last time. Ever. She'd better get it right.
Still blinking back tears, Willow left the confines of the magic circle she'd carefully drawn on the training room floor and locked the door.
Don't want to be interrupted. Too important.
Shakily, she drew a breath and impatiently brushed her henna-ed hair out of her face.
Concentrate.
"Hecate, three-fold goddess. Hear my plea . . ."
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This was it.
Buffy watched as the fax rolled through. Fresh from England.
Someone in the Watcher's Council had tried to hide Elizabeth Barry's diary. But they didn't try hard enough to fool Giles. Giles might have had an unnatural attachment to all things tweedy, but damn! He knew his way around the archives.
Lucky for her. Her future depended on what was in this diary.
Her future hopefully sans evil.
Her future happiness.
Her future with Spike.
Twenty pages. This would take a while, especially since it was in that old fashioned, badly-spelled English. Guess they didn't have spell-check back then.
OK. No more being flippant. Defense mechanism. Just worried, that's all. Really worried.
What if this says, "Yes, future Slayer girl. I drank the blood. I went wacky. I killed people and liked it! Just you wait. Evil splendour awaits you!"
Enough, Buffy. No more flip. No more glib. No more racing heart. Calm down.
"Winston? I'll lock up the gallery. You can go now. It's almost 5."
Winston pushed his little wire-rimmed glasses up his nose and smiled tightly. Buffy knew what was behind that smile. He was thinking, "Joyce never closed the gallery early."
Yeah, well, obviously I’m not my mother. She's dead. Just like I was . . .
"Whatever you say, Buffy." Winston picked up his briefcase. "Have a pleasant evening."
Buffy heard the bell ring as he left, the door slamming a little bit too hard behind him.
"Wanker." Buffy muttered the British expletive under her breath and picked up all twenty pages from the fax machine. "If Spike is still talking to me after all this, then I'll take him up on his offer to work in the gallery. Gotta be better than Winston."
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Willow felt the power surge through her. This time, she didn't enjoy the feeling. She knew what the feeling cost.
Like ghostly tendrils she felt the power reach out towards Tara.
Willow's eyes rolled back. "Tara."
Willow fell to the floor.
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Blah, blah, blah. Got a jolly, spiffy new crossbow. Mr. Spencer got it for me. Blah, blah. New dress for the coronation. Again with the shopping. Again with Mr. Spencer.
Boring. Where was the good stuff?
Hello. What's this? Reggio. Bingo.
23 April 1661
Most blessed event! The crowning of our new sovereigne. And, I must confesse, I feele blessed in many wayes. His majestie deigned to notice me. And then there was Reggio.
He daunced with grace and dignitie. He is dark and Italian and teaches musick to children. His eyes are moste blue and sparkling.
1 July 1661
Reggio wishes to court me. Mr. Spencer gave his consent! I shall see him tomorrow at St. James. At sunset. Naturally, Mr. Spencer will come also to protect my vertue. From thence to ye playhouse to see the revival of Jonson's most excellent play. I hear that women now grace the stage, but most are not respectable. Altho' tomorrow Kynaston is the 'silent woman'. He makes an exceeding pretty girle; at least that's what Mr. Pepys says. We shall see.
++
24 December 1661
Another Christmastide. Spencer gave me arrowes and, most importantly, a newe sett of breeches. I put them on today, and he looked at me most straunge.
Reggio presented me with a fine locket with his sweete image therein. I managed to meet him with much contrivance. Spencer has forbidden me to see him. Reggio does not understand what he has done to offend. I weep daylie thinking upon this most grievous estrangement.
++
15 March 1662
My deare Reggio is a man of many secretes. We must be carefull. I begine to questione what Spencer tells me. Methinks he cannot be trusted.
++
30 March 1662
Who is goode? Who is evill? I cannot discern between them. Who are these creatures I persecute?
++
20 April 1662
Reggio tells me I must kille them. A new Master has arriv'd and he has the face of a beast. He believes he can murther me. I must prepare.
Spencer lookes at me most furtively. Yesterday, I trayned with him, but he ended our exercises earlie, much flushed.
His lookes are full of straungeness. I am afraid.
**
1 June 1662
My deare Reggio. My sweete Reggio. He went against his own to protect me this eve. Now he too is hunted.
++
3 June1662
Most horrible daye. I weep, but nothing can chaunge my most foul circumstance.
Reggio feared that I would not be able to escape the clutches of both Spencer and the Master.
I drank but a sip of his most sweete bloud to give me immunitie against my foes, which yea verily, outnumber my friends in these darke times.
It was his last deed. Spencer. My Watcher. My former friend. Ran my deare Reggio thro'. My love dissolv'd and became the dust from whence we all came.
He is at peace.
I shall never reste againe.
++
1 November 1662
I have endur'd much. I am a prisoner, my libertie most curtailled at the grasping handes of a jealous, hateful man.
I pray to my deare Lord to unsex me, to take from me this all too womanly softness so that I may do what I must. Spencer must dye. After ye horrours of his filthy, importune embraces and his diabolicall schemes against me with the enemie, he must dye. O, most foul deceiver!
On the night we commemorate our good Kinge James' escape from the evill Guido Fawkes the time will come. He shall know my true power. And my wrath.
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Buffy's eyes glazed with tears in sympathetic response to the plight of poor Elizabeth. Having the Master go after you. She knew the feeling.
If Elizabeth was telling the truth, she didn't need to worry about turning evil. But judging from what the other Slayer went through, she might need to worry about her friends' reactions to her being in love with a vampire. Again.
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Willow was roused from unconsciousness by a loud, incessant beeping.
"Turn it off."
Slowly, she realised what was making the noise. Cell phone.
Tara?
"You have two new messages. Message one. Hi Will. It's Buffy. Sorry to bother you, but it's important. Anyway, if you could meet me at the Magic Box at 6pm tonight, we need to have a meeting of the Scoobies. It's really important."
Willow groaned. Scooby business. Not in the mood. Life falling apart now.
"Message two. "Willow. It's Tara. I know. I know everything. Don't ever come near me again."
Willow began to cry. Carefully, she placed the book, Darkest Magick, in the centre of the circle.
"Incidere."
Blue flames engulfed the book. The pages curled. Then it was gone.
"It's finished. Never again."
"Willow?" Anya pounded on the door. "You OK in there?"
"I’m fine." Willow managed those two words. It was painful, but she almost sounded normal.
Willow sank to the floor. Her shoulders convulsed. Deliberately, she put one hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs. She didn't feel like dealing with a concerned ex-demon right now, telling her everything would be OK. Everything would not be OK.
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"Just a second, Kevin, I think my cell phone's beeping."
Dawn smiled at Kevin and extracted her slim little Nokia from her backpack. "Just a sec. It's probably my sister. She's kinda overprotective and stuff." Dawn rolled her eyes and dialed her voice mail.
"You have one new message. Message one. Hi Dawnie. It's Buffy. Could you meet me at the Magic Box at 6pm tonight? It's really important."
"That was weird." Dawn shrugged.
"What?" Kevin smirked. "She being all über-parental again?"
"Nah. She just sounded weird. Sorta like Stepford Buffy." Dawn flipped her long hair over her shoulder and checked her watch. "Wanna walk me to the Magic Box?"
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"Bloody hell."
Spike threw his beeping cell phone against the wall. Sodding modern technology. Never did anyone any good. But after Buffy died, Red had insisted. Said they needed to be able to contact him more quickly.
Bollocks.
Spike's head pounded as he lit a cigarette and retrieved his phone. It was still beeping, echoing through his poor hungover brain.
Buffy. Maybe the Watcher had the scoop. Did he even want to know?
"You have two new messages. Message one. Spike! Good news. The fax came through. You can read it for yourself and I think you'll be pleased. Well, it's sad and stuff, but I'm not evil. Really!"
Spike exhaled the smoke from his lungs in a large burst. Suddenly his head didn't hurt at all.
"Message two. Hi Spike, it's Buffy. Sorry to bother you, but it's important. Anyway, if you could meet me at the Magic Box at 6pm tonight, we need to have a meeting of the Scoobies. It's really important."
Spike's head began to pound again. Something was not right.
END PART TWENTY TWO