Fic: Child of Vengeance, complete.
Hi! First of all, sorry I didn't do this sooner! I kept meaning to post all the parts together but never got around to it. In any case, to go with my Willow meta, here is the fic that started it all!
Title: Child of Vengeance.
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Characters: Jenny Calendar, D'Hoffryn, Angel/Angelus, Giles, Willow.
Word Count: 3,740.
Notes: this was inspired by how many times the word "vegeance" is used in relation to Jenny and her people. It's a strong theme in season 2, and I wanted to incorporate this with how it's used later on.
Summary: Jenny has always avoided vengeance. Her people's obsession with it drove her from them. But now, a victim of Angelus and fearing for her loved ones, vengeance may be her only hope.
Link:
Child of Vengeance
Do you know what it feels like to get your neck broken? Damn painful is what. Don’t believe all they say about a quick, painless death. Time doesn’t really have a meaning when it comes to dying. Your last moment stretches, grows into eternity, until you can feel every bone snapping, every tendon tearing, blood spilling and gushing into your throat, filling it up, overflowing.
But I guess it’s better than being burnt to death or something. Not as good as dying in bed with grandchildren but hey, beggars and choosers and all that.
So I’m lying there, all twisted and dead and all, and along comes this guy. I don’t really notice him at first. The whole deceased thing is kinda preoccupying.
“Death’s a bitch, huh.”
I look round. And it’s then I realise I’m beside myself, literally, looking down at my empty open eyes.
“...”
“Don’t worry,” he grins. His face is all... wrong. Blue isn’t a natural colour. Either he’s a demon or he’s got a serious woad fetish. “Most newbies take a while to grow accustomed to it. But you’ll get used to it after a while. A body is such a limiting thing anyway. Much better to be ethereal, I find.”
“...”
He smiles, somehow evil and friendly and comforting all at once. He offers his hand for me to shake. I’m still in the oh-Goddess-I’m-dead phase, but I manage to shake his hand... shakily. “D’Hoffryn,” he introduces himself.
“I’m -”
“Oh, no need, my dear. We’ve been monitoring you for a while. Ha! Monitoring. Sounds like something out of one of those terrible science fiction movies. Ha!”
I stare at him incredulously. “I must be dead. Either that or I’m flashing back to my college meth phase...”
D’Hoffryn laughs again, loudly. His non-existent voice seems to echo around the school and I suppress a shudder. Hey, just cos I grew up with beasties doesn’t mean I’m used to them. Demons always wig me out.
“So are you the Techno-Pagan version of St Peter, or am I heading somewhere distinctly less heavenly?”
He merely tilts his head. “Shall we discuss this in a more... ambient situation? I find fresh corpses so repulsive. No offence of course.”
I shake my head slowly, looking down at myself again. I’m disconnected: somehow the woman broken on the ground means nothing to me now. “No, in this I’d have to agree with you.”
“Excellent!” He claps his hands together. “I’m glad things are getting along so swimmingly. Shall we?”
His arm stretches out to me and I feel a shiver of shock as I grasp it. Part of me, a little girl’s voice, is screaming to stay here, in my familiar home, but I ignore it. I’m dead. I’m over it. I have to be.
So I grasp his arm and the world melts away. There’s a wrench in my heart as it does but I can’t think about that now. Can’t think about the life I could have had with... no. Can’t think about him.
“Aha! Here we are.”
And with a jolt and a tug the world wraps itself around us again. It’s still night. Forest curves round us and the air is quiet, peaceful.
“So where...”
An unearthly scream tears the air, and a man crashes down in front of us. He’s in pain, and I reach out to help him.
“Don’t bother.” D’Hoffryn’s tone is that of boredom and I glare at him. But then the man turns his face to me and I stumble, my heart catching, stomach lurching.
“Oh God.” How can I be shaking if I’m just a ghost?
“Hardly,” D’Hoffryn replies. “But I believe you know each other.”
“Hardly,” I echo.
Angelus, no, Angel’s eyes flash and he collapses, weeping. My ancestor enters, speaks, but I can’t hear, won’t hear.
“Why did you take me here?” I demand.
D’Hoffryn raises a chalky eyebrow. “You don’t know? This is part of you, Yanna. This is who you are.”
“No.” I speak lowly, but my voice shakes with passion. “I spent my life running away from this... this atrocity. I wanted no part of it.”
“And yet, here we are.”
I’m silent.
“Don’t you realise, Yanna? Vengeance is a part of you. It always will be. It burns through the blood of your people. It burnt in you, long before you could put a name to it. Your soul cries out for it. You need it.”
“My people need it,” I counter, glaring at him. “I just wanted to get away. I did my duty to vengeance and look what...” I can’t go on. Bowing my head, I find my eyes are brimming with tears.
“Exactly.” D’Hoffryn’s voice is cool, and Angel weeps before us. “You failed.”
“I know.”
“Angelus will continue to destroy your friend’s lives. Destroy Giles...”
I snap my head up to glare fire at him. “You don’t mention him. Don’t bring him into this.”
“But you already did. You must have known what might happen. Falling in love complicates things, Yanna. And now he will suffer.”
My head drops again, and I struggle to hold back sobs. I refuse to be weak but this... this is too much.
“But he doesn’t have to.” I feel a frozen hand on my shoulder. “You can fix this, my dear. I can help you. You can go back, finish what you started. You can yet have your vengeance.”
Angel is shaking, the memories of what he did returning. Tears still damp on his cheek, he forces himself up and runs away. I frown. My mind is made up.
“Just tell me how.”
- - -
I watch. He can’t see me, but I’m here. So I watch. I watch as he comes in, his heart bursting with anticipation and love. I watch as he breathes the scent of the rose, pooling blood red in his hand. I watch as he climbs the stairs, his pace quickening with every step. And I watch as he finds me, eyes still open, body still broken. Still dead.
Oh Goddess no.
He doesn’t weep. But I do. I cry out my soul until I can’t feel any more. My love, I’m here! Please see me! Please let it be ok. Let me come back. Let me...
No.
D’Hoffryn said it was better this way. I can never truly return, not as I am now. It is better for everyone if I’m invisible. Eases my passing, he said. And I agreed, then. But now, as the cops and Scoobies drift away, and Rupert is left shaking on the couch, all I want is to hold him. Press my lips to his. Tell him it’s alright. Tell him anything to make his heart stop breaking.
But I can’t. Time wears on, unrepentant, and I must go. There are things to be done.
I miss him when he charges in to kill Angelus. I find him in the alley later, beaten and full of rage and grief. Still I cannot help him.
Not yet.
Days pass. I watch as Angelus tortures Buffy. I watch as he unearths Acathla, that pillar of destruction. I watch (so damn helpless!) as he takes my love and...
Then I cannot watch. It’s true, I turned away. I had to. My plan had to be seen through and I can’t just watch him go through that. The guilt alone would kill me.
...
You know, if I weren’t already dead.
It took them long enough to find it. God, it’s not as though it was hard to find, just slipped between a couple of desks. So many times I felt like appearing just to dig it out and give it to them. But the children found it eventually and now...
The hospital is quiet. You wouldn’t have thought it, being the only hospital on a Hellmouth and all. But it feels right. Sombre, you know? Apt for the occasion.
Willow sits bolt upright, her ashen face resolved. With Cordelia waving the incense awkwardly and Oz sounding out the Latin, I almost laugh. The scene looks so much like children playing at witchcraft.
This is it. I summon the power D’Hoffryn gave me, the power of my people, my birthright. It stirs within me, hot and thick, a power born of rage, grief. Vengeance.
It’s not like Willow’s completely incompetent. I’m sure one day she’ll grow into a, if not powerful, certainly able witch. But that’s not enough for this. There’s no way a novice could carry through with this spell. Magic of this magnitude needs power, passion. And that’s something I have in abundance.
“Not dead, nor not of the living. Spirits of the interregnum I call.”
Willow’s doing well. Her voice is strong, commanding. Maybe she does have the stones to see this through. But there’s no way I can take that chance. It’s close now. The timing must be perfect. I clamber onto the bed, kneeling behind Willow, palms over her head, still unseen.
“Cast his heart from the evil... realm.”
No, she’s faltering. Getting weaker. I’m doing the right thing, I know it. So the kid gets a double whammy of vengeance. She can cope with it right? The worst thing that’ll happen is... Ok, the worst is pretty bad. Magic is hard enough to deal with but this magic is tainted, angry. It will rise to her emotions, all the more potent as her anger echoes its own.
Oh well. Better to risk her than have Angelus destroy the world. And I will not have him take that from me too.
Willow’s trembling. “Return.” She shakes, breathing heavily. The time is close now. I feel our spirits merge, magic touching magic, coming together in ecstasy.
“I call on...”
And my power flows into her, fire burning through both our veins. Her head snaps up, eyes blood red. I fall back, spent. Vengeance has taken control now. No need for Willow’s chanting: it knows what it wants, knows what must be done.
Goddess, I hope Buffy had the strength to do her part.
I wait, weak from it all. The world doesn’t end. Crisis averted. And the children cheer, congratulating Willow, their lives saved once again. But they’ll never know just who saved them.
It’s fine. I can live with the moral victory.
Well, live in a figurative sense of course.
I watch them in the sunshine, recovered and joyous, all hyped on their heroism. I watch Rupert smile. He wears his mask so well. Inside he’s breaking, I can feel it. But outside... he’s really got the stiff upper lip thing down. I’m impressed.
Oh I want him. I want our life.
But I can’t think about this. I’ll admit, for a while I drifted. Watched Rupert suffer through the summer months. Felt Buffy’s pain leagues away. Watched the drama on her return. I must say, once you’ve got used to the whole being dead thing, haunting can be quite amusing. It’s like having a TV show you can crawl into. You know that bit with Buffy’s house party? Goddess, I actually wanted popcorn. And that new Slayer... wow. She’s so twisted I really...
He’s here.
No.
No, no.
This was my vengeance. The world saved, Angel sent to Hell. Not Angelus. Oh no. That twisted bastard would probably enjoy it. It had to be Angel. And it had to be an eternity of torment. That was the deal!
I shiver, rage buffeting me, as Angel crawls pitifully on the floor.
“Oh don’t worry.”
I jump. “Jeez! Didn’t your mother tell you it’s rude to creep up on people?”
D’Hoffryn frowns thoughtfully. “Maybe. I can’t really remember much before Dad ate her though.”
I ignore this. “Don’t worry about what?”
“Him being happy. Not suffering. You can take the demon out of Hell but... well, you know how it goes.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, Sunnydale isn’t exactly heaven, but it’s sure better than where he was.”
D’Hoffryn chuckles softly. “Oh trust me. There’s more pain here than he could ever feel there. You should know, Yanna, the purest pain is that of the heart. And his heart will break more than once before the century’s out.”
The grin is still plastered on D’Hoffryn’s face as Angel trembles against the floor. I turn to the blue painted demon.
“Show me.”
- - -
We fastforward a few years. Angel’s running the show now, with his own band of merry men jumping to do his bidding. And no matter how many lives he saves, how much good he does, his face still makes rage rise in my heart like vomit.
“Just wait,” D’Hoffryn whispers as Angel saves the day again, “you’ll see.”
So I see. I see Angel’s only true friend sacrifice himself, leaving Angel without someone who understands him. I see his noble quest to redeem his former lover crash and burn as she laughs at him, demonic. I see his son cruelly torn from him, a web of lies and betrayal. I see his son torture him, banish him. I see his true love, Ms Chase, made victim, die a meaningless death. I see his city, his home, fall to that Hell from whence he came.
And I turn my face away.
His pain is so true, so heart wrenching I cannot bear to watch any longer. At first I revelled in it, delighting in my vengeful heart. But as the years wore past and his pain never stopped I remembered who I was. All that I stood for. How could I hate Angel for what Angelus did to me? I was always the one to defend Angel to my people, argue for the ensouled champion, so different to the monster lurking within. How could I forget this?
“No, no!” D’Hoffryn sees me weep, and boy is he pissed about it. “You are a being of vengeance, dear Yanna. I’ve seen your mind, you have true potential. Don’t throw it away.”
I shake my head, so wrapped in my thoughts.
“I can make you immortal. You can help victims like yourself, give them the justice they deserve...”
“It’s not justice.” My interruption is low, quiet, passionate. “This is vengeance. Angry and unfair.” I look up to him, my face a painting of dried tears. “I’m out.”
“What? Yanna, after all...”
I hold up a hand to stop him. “Save it. You’ve had your fun. I did the whole vengeance gig for a while. Now I’m done. Just accept it.”
D’Hoffryn glares, looks like he’s going to argue, then shrugs instead. “Fine. I don’t know what you’re going to do now but...” Sighing, he fumbles inside his robes. “Here’s my talisman. Just let me know if you want to pick up the vengeance career again. We could really use someone like you on the team.”
At first I refuse it, but then I take the card. He pats my shoulder awkwardly. “Thanks,” I say, giving him a weak smile. “I may kinda abhor what you do, but you helped me so... thanks.”
He grins. “Don’t mention it. Hey, want me to drop you off anywhere before I go? You can’t want to while out eternity in this hellhole.” He sneers at the Hollywood sign as a dragon torches it gleefully.
“Well, there is someplace I’d like to see before I shuffle off this mortal coil...”
D’Hoffryn smiles kindly. “I think I can guess.”
And as Angel leaps forward, sword in hand to tame the dragon, I grasp D’Hoffryn’s arm and let the world melt away once more.
- - -
My God, it looks the same. Of course it does. Barely days have passed since Angel was banished. I have to say, it’s a bit of a mindflip, trying to adjust to all this time jumping.
I walk through the familiar room, my feet making no sound. The old books still haunt the walls, that same scent of parchment and good wine comforts me, sets my soul at ease. And yet the room is stagnant with grief, loss draining the air of light. So he sits, at the centre of all this, eyes fixed on an invisible point on the wall. So lost. So alone.
I breathe deeply. One final gift bestowed from D’Hoffryn. He said I’d regret it, but I insisted. I have to be careful. For Rupert to see me to early would ruin everything. Goddess, I hope I’m doing the right thing.
I lean in close, but not near enough for him to see me. An empty wine glass rests nearby, Simon and Garfunkel serenading lowly from the record player.
Oh how I love this man.
I don’t know how to start. How does one go about these things? It’s not exactly something they teach in school, appearing as a ghost. Or whatever a corporeal ghost is.
“My love.”
I nearly yelp. Rupert’s voice jolts me out of my morass of thoughts. But he hasn’t seen me. His face is filled with grief as he whispers to the emptiness in front of him.
“Oh my love, I am so sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” I say softly from behind him. I’ve an angelic smile on my face for when he turns, but he stays fixatedly gazing on the spot in front of him. Frowning, I study his face. He doesn’t seem surprised to hear me. Oh no. Has he talked to me often? My heart wrenches for him, so tortured by loss.
“I should have protected you,” he whispered. “You should never have been part of this world.”
I smile to myself. “I was born to this world, my dear. I embraced it.”
He shakes his head. “I should have saved you.”
“There was nothing you-”
“I should have saved you.” His head drops, and I wonder if he can hear me at all.
“No.” I walk around in front of him, dropping to my knees and taking his face in my hands. “My love, there was nothing you could have done.”
“You...” His face is incredulous. “You’re not here you can’t-”
I smile. “Just call it a miracle.”
“No, this isn’t real.” But he doesn’t move away, and his arguments fall weakly.
“Do I feel real?” I guide his hand to my cheek. “Is this real?” I bring his hand to my mouth, and I kiss it. “What about this?” I lean upwards, kissing him gently, passionately, lovingly. Oh. I had forgotten how good he tastes. “Don’t tell me that’s not real,” I murmur.
“Frankly,” he says, smiling and caressing my cheek, “I no longer care.”
I kiss him again, deeper, harder, faster. Oh, please don’t let this moment end. My hands want all of him, sliding over fabric, skin, slipping downwards...
“No.”
“Oh you gotta be kidding me,” I murmur, half joking.
He smiles, pressing a finger to my lips. Then he stands, pulling me up with him, gathering me into his arms. I laugh joyfully as he carries me up the stairs. “Ever the gentleman.” Setting me down gently on the bed, he undresses himself, eyes never leaving my face. I do the same.
“I swore I’d never return to this room,” he mutters, half to himself.
As he sits beside me I take his face in my hands again. “That’s gone. It’s over. This is now.”
“Concisely put, Ms Calendar.”
“Why thank you Mr Giles.”
“Jenny...” And he kisses me, touches me, has all of me and I have all of him. Then there is nothing but sensation, our souls coming together, more beautiful and wondrous than either of us could have thought. We cling to each other through the storm, feeling every strike of emotion, love, together. And when it is done we lie in each other’s arms, not knowing where one ends and the other begins.
My mother once said truest love was poetry in motion. Now, finally, I understand what she meant.
It’s a while before either of us speaks. I think Rupert is afraid of shattering the dream. I’m just too blissed out to talk. But all moments end.
“Rupert...”
“Please, a little longer.”
I smile sadly, raising myself up onto one elbow. “I’m sorry, my love. You know this can’t last.” I feel so cruel to say this to him, but he simply nods, ever the logical scholar.
“I know. Oh, but I want it to.” He sighs that English sigh and I laugh softly.
“I’ve only got so much time. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I don’t want to be here when it does. You’ve lost me once. You shouldn’t have to see me gone again.”
He nods. “Of course. Naturally. I understand.”
There is silence for a while, then I feel a pull, a tug, a need to be elsewhere. Resisting, I kiss Rupert again, tasting him for the last time, knowing I will love him forever.
“Rupert, I want you to... Oh God, I don’t want to sound like every cliché chick flick, but I want you to be happy. Move on.” He opens his mouth to argue, but I press a finger against it. “No debates. Just accept my wish, please. I can’t bear to see you suffer.”
“Yes, my love. I’ll do anything you ask.”
I smile and nod. “That’s my boy.” There’s that tug again, ever insistent. I wrench myself from the bed, wrapping the sheet around me. The room seems to fade, but I focus, pull myself back. Just a little longer, please. I’ll be done soon.
“I love you, Rupert.” I touch his cheek one last time, totally failing to hold back tears. “Remember that. I’ll always love you.”
“And I you.”
My sad smiles breaks, but I won’t let him see me cry. With a lingering look I drift out, down the stairs, out of the house. And there, in the courtyard, I let myself weep for a moment.
But somehow I know it’s not all over. As the world grows brighter, becoming light around me, I know I’m heading somewhere better. My work isn’t done yet. I can still help the world, and somehow I know this is the way. As I feel myself rising ever upward, I let it go. Vengeance, grief, passion, all melt away. This is my purpose now. And I smile.
Title: Child of Vengeance.
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Characters: Jenny Calendar, D'Hoffryn, Angel/Angelus, Giles, Willow.
Word Count: 3,740.
Notes: this was inspired by how many times the word "vegeance" is used in relation to Jenny and her people. It's a strong theme in season 2, and I wanted to incorporate this with how it's used later on.
Summary: Jenny has always avoided vengeance. Her people's obsession with it drove her from them. But now, a victim of Angelus and fearing for her loved ones, vengeance may be her only hope.
Link:
Child of Vengeance
Do you know what it feels like to get your neck broken? Damn painful is what. Don’t believe all they say about a quick, painless death. Time doesn’t really have a meaning when it comes to dying. Your last moment stretches, grows into eternity, until you can feel every bone snapping, every tendon tearing, blood spilling and gushing into your throat, filling it up, overflowing.
But I guess it’s better than being burnt to death or something. Not as good as dying in bed with grandchildren but hey, beggars and choosers and all that.
So I’m lying there, all twisted and dead and all, and along comes this guy. I don’t really notice him at first. The whole deceased thing is kinda preoccupying.
“Death’s a bitch, huh.”
I look round. And it’s then I realise I’m beside myself, literally, looking down at my empty open eyes.
“...”
“Don’t worry,” he grins. His face is all... wrong. Blue isn’t a natural colour. Either he’s a demon or he’s got a serious woad fetish. “Most newbies take a while to grow accustomed to it. But you’ll get used to it after a while. A body is such a limiting thing anyway. Much better to be ethereal, I find.”
“...”
He smiles, somehow evil and friendly and comforting all at once. He offers his hand for me to shake. I’m still in the oh-Goddess-I’m-dead phase, but I manage to shake his hand... shakily. “D’Hoffryn,” he introduces himself.
“I’m -”
“Oh, no need, my dear. We’ve been monitoring you for a while. Ha! Monitoring. Sounds like something out of one of those terrible science fiction movies. Ha!”
I stare at him incredulously. “I must be dead. Either that or I’m flashing back to my college meth phase...”
D’Hoffryn laughs again, loudly. His non-existent voice seems to echo around the school and I suppress a shudder. Hey, just cos I grew up with beasties doesn’t mean I’m used to them. Demons always wig me out.
“So are you the Techno-Pagan version of St Peter, or am I heading somewhere distinctly less heavenly?”
He merely tilts his head. “Shall we discuss this in a more... ambient situation? I find fresh corpses so repulsive. No offence of course.”
I shake my head slowly, looking down at myself again. I’m disconnected: somehow the woman broken on the ground means nothing to me now. “No, in this I’d have to agree with you.”
“Excellent!” He claps his hands together. “I’m glad things are getting along so swimmingly. Shall we?”
His arm stretches out to me and I feel a shiver of shock as I grasp it. Part of me, a little girl’s voice, is screaming to stay here, in my familiar home, but I ignore it. I’m dead. I’m over it. I have to be.
So I grasp his arm and the world melts away. There’s a wrench in my heart as it does but I can’t think about that now. Can’t think about the life I could have had with... no. Can’t think about him.
“Aha! Here we are.”
And with a jolt and a tug the world wraps itself around us again. It’s still night. Forest curves round us and the air is quiet, peaceful.
“So where...”
An unearthly scream tears the air, and a man crashes down in front of us. He’s in pain, and I reach out to help him.
“Don’t bother.” D’Hoffryn’s tone is that of boredom and I glare at him. But then the man turns his face to me and I stumble, my heart catching, stomach lurching.
“Oh God.” How can I be shaking if I’m just a ghost?
“Hardly,” D’Hoffryn replies. “But I believe you know each other.”
“Hardly,” I echo.
Angelus, no, Angel’s eyes flash and he collapses, weeping. My ancestor enters, speaks, but I can’t hear, won’t hear.
“Why did you take me here?” I demand.
D’Hoffryn raises a chalky eyebrow. “You don’t know? This is part of you, Yanna. This is who you are.”
“No.” I speak lowly, but my voice shakes with passion. “I spent my life running away from this... this atrocity. I wanted no part of it.”
“And yet, here we are.”
I’m silent.
“Don’t you realise, Yanna? Vengeance is a part of you. It always will be. It burns through the blood of your people. It burnt in you, long before you could put a name to it. Your soul cries out for it. You need it.”
“My people need it,” I counter, glaring at him. “I just wanted to get away. I did my duty to vengeance and look what...” I can’t go on. Bowing my head, I find my eyes are brimming with tears.
“Exactly.” D’Hoffryn’s voice is cool, and Angel weeps before us. “You failed.”
“I know.”
“Angelus will continue to destroy your friend’s lives. Destroy Giles...”
I snap my head up to glare fire at him. “You don’t mention him. Don’t bring him into this.”
“But you already did. You must have known what might happen. Falling in love complicates things, Yanna. And now he will suffer.”
My head drops again, and I struggle to hold back sobs. I refuse to be weak but this... this is too much.
“But he doesn’t have to.” I feel a frozen hand on my shoulder. “You can fix this, my dear. I can help you. You can go back, finish what you started. You can yet have your vengeance.”
Angel is shaking, the memories of what he did returning. Tears still damp on his cheek, he forces himself up and runs away. I frown. My mind is made up.
“Just tell me how.”
- - -
I watch. He can’t see me, but I’m here. So I watch. I watch as he comes in, his heart bursting with anticipation and love. I watch as he breathes the scent of the rose, pooling blood red in his hand. I watch as he climbs the stairs, his pace quickening with every step. And I watch as he finds me, eyes still open, body still broken. Still dead.
Oh Goddess no.
He doesn’t weep. But I do. I cry out my soul until I can’t feel any more. My love, I’m here! Please see me! Please let it be ok. Let me come back. Let me...
No.
D’Hoffryn said it was better this way. I can never truly return, not as I am now. It is better for everyone if I’m invisible. Eases my passing, he said. And I agreed, then. But now, as the cops and Scoobies drift away, and Rupert is left shaking on the couch, all I want is to hold him. Press my lips to his. Tell him it’s alright. Tell him anything to make his heart stop breaking.
But I can’t. Time wears on, unrepentant, and I must go. There are things to be done.
I miss him when he charges in to kill Angelus. I find him in the alley later, beaten and full of rage and grief. Still I cannot help him.
Not yet.
Days pass. I watch as Angelus tortures Buffy. I watch as he unearths Acathla, that pillar of destruction. I watch (so damn helpless!) as he takes my love and...
Then I cannot watch. It’s true, I turned away. I had to. My plan had to be seen through and I can’t just watch him go through that. The guilt alone would kill me.
...
You know, if I weren’t already dead.
It took them long enough to find it. God, it’s not as though it was hard to find, just slipped between a couple of desks. So many times I felt like appearing just to dig it out and give it to them. But the children found it eventually and now...
The hospital is quiet. You wouldn’t have thought it, being the only hospital on a Hellmouth and all. But it feels right. Sombre, you know? Apt for the occasion.
Willow sits bolt upright, her ashen face resolved. With Cordelia waving the incense awkwardly and Oz sounding out the Latin, I almost laugh. The scene looks so much like children playing at witchcraft.
This is it. I summon the power D’Hoffryn gave me, the power of my people, my birthright. It stirs within me, hot and thick, a power born of rage, grief. Vengeance.
It’s not like Willow’s completely incompetent. I’m sure one day she’ll grow into a, if not powerful, certainly able witch. But that’s not enough for this. There’s no way a novice could carry through with this spell. Magic of this magnitude needs power, passion. And that’s something I have in abundance.
“Not dead, nor not of the living. Spirits of the interregnum I call.”
Willow’s doing well. Her voice is strong, commanding. Maybe she does have the stones to see this through. But there’s no way I can take that chance. It’s close now. The timing must be perfect. I clamber onto the bed, kneeling behind Willow, palms over her head, still unseen.
“Cast his heart from the evil... realm.”
No, she’s faltering. Getting weaker. I’m doing the right thing, I know it. So the kid gets a double whammy of vengeance. She can cope with it right? The worst thing that’ll happen is... Ok, the worst is pretty bad. Magic is hard enough to deal with but this magic is tainted, angry. It will rise to her emotions, all the more potent as her anger echoes its own.
Oh well. Better to risk her than have Angelus destroy the world. And I will not have him take that from me too.
Willow’s trembling. “Return.” She shakes, breathing heavily. The time is close now. I feel our spirits merge, magic touching magic, coming together in ecstasy.
“I call on...”
And my power flows into her, fire burning through both our veins. Her head snaps up, eyes blood red. I fall back, spent. Vengeance has taken control now. No need for Willow’s chanting: it knows what it wants, knows what must be done.
Goddess, I hope Buffy had the strength to do her part.
I wait, weak from it all. The world doesn’t end. Crisis averted. And the children cheer, congratulating Willow, their lives saved once again. But they’ll never know just who saved them.
It’s fine. I can live with the moral victory.
Well, live in a figurative sense of course.
I watch them in the sunshine, recovered and joyous, all hyped on their heroism. I watch Rupert smile. He wears his mask so well. Inside he’s breaking, I can feel it. But outside... he’s really got the stiff upper lip thing down. I’m impressed.
Oh I want him. I want our life.
But I can’t think about this. I’ll admit, for a while I drifted. Watched Rupert suffer through the summer months. Felt Buffy’s pain leagues away. Watched the drama on her return. I must say, once you’ve got used to the whole being dead thing, haunting can be quite amusing. It’s like having a TV show you can crawl into. You know that bit with Buffy’s house party? Goddess, I actually wanted popcorn. And that new Slayer... wow. She’s so twisted I really...
He’s here.
No.
No, no.
This was my vengeance. The world saved, Angel sent to Hell. Not Angelus. Oh no. That twisted bastard would probably enjoy it. It had to be Angel. And it had to be an eternity of torment. That was the deal!
I shiver, rage buffeting me, as Angel crawls pitifully on the floor.
“Oh don’t worry.”
I jump. “Jeez! Didn’t your mother tell you it’s rude to creep up on people?”
D’Hoffryn frowns thoughtfully. “Maybe. I can’t really remember much before Dad ate her though.”
I ignore this. “Don’t worry about what?”
“Him being happy. Not suffering. You can take the demon out of Hell but... well, you know how it goes.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, Sunnydale isn’t exactly heaven, but it’s sure better than where he was.”
D’Hoffryn chuckles softly. “Oh trust me. There’s more pain here than he could ever feel there. You should know, Yanna, the purest pain is that of the heart. And his heart will break more than once before the century’s out.”
The grin is still plastered on D’Hoffryn’s face as Angel trembles against the floor. I turn to the blue painted demon.
“Show me.”
- - -
We fastforward a few years. Angel’s running the show now, with his own band of merry men jumping to do his bidding. And no matter how many lives he saves, how much good he does, his face still makes rage rise in my heart like vomit.
“Just wait,” D’Hoffryn whispers as Angel saves the day again, “you’ll see.”
So I see. I see Angel’s only true friend sacrifice himself, leaving Angel without someone who understands him. I see his noble quest to redeem his former lover crash and burn as she laughs at him, demonic. I see his son cruelly torn from him, a web of lies and betrayal. I see his son torture him, banish him. I see his true love, Ms Chase, made victim, die a meaningless death. I see his city, his home, fall to that Hell from whence he came.
And I turn my face away.
His pain is so true, so heart wrenching I cannot bear to watch any longer. At first I revelled in it, delighting in my vengeful heart. But as the years wore past and his pain never stopped I remembered who I was. All that I stood for. How could I hate Angel for what Angelus did to me? I was always the one to defend Angel to my people, argue for the ensouled champion, so different to the monster lurking within. How could I forget this?
“No, no!” D’Hoffryn sees me weep, and boy is he pissed about it. “You are a being of vengeance, dear Yanna. I’ve seen your mind, you have true potential. Don’t throw it away.”
I shake my head, so wrapped in my thoughts.
“I can make you immortal. You can help victims like yourself, give them the justice they deserve...”
“It’s not justice.” My interruption is low, quiet, passionate. “This is vengeance. Angry and unfair.” I look up to him, my face a painting of dried tears. “I’m out.”
“What? Yanna, after all...”
I hold up a hand to stop him. “Save it. You’ve had your fun. I did the whole vengeance gig for a while. Now I’m done. Just accept it.”
D’Hoffryn glares, looks like he’s going to argue, then shrugs instead. “Fine. I don’t know what you’re going to do now but...” Sighing, he fumbles inside his robes. “Here’s my talisman. Just let me know if you want to pick up the vengeance career again. We could really use someone like you on the team.”
At first I refuse it, but then I take the card. He pats my shoulder awkwardly. “Thanks,” I say, giving him a weak smile. “I may kinda abhor what you do, but you helped me so... thanks.”
He grins. “Don’t mention it. Hey, want me to drop you off anywhere before I go? You can’t want to while out eternity in this hellhole.” He sneers at the Hollywood sign as a dragon torches it gleefully.
“Well, there is someplace I’d like to see before I shuffle off this mortal coil...”
D’Hoffryn smiles kindly. “I think I can guess.”
And as Angel leaps forward, sword in hand to tame the dragon, I grasp D’Hoffryn’s arm and let the world melt away once more.
- - -
My God, it looks the same. Of course it does. Barely days have passed since Angel was banished. I have to say, it’s a bit of a mindflip, trying to adjust to all this time jumping.
I walk through the familiar room, my feet making no sound. The old books still haunt the walls, that same scent of parchment and good wine comforts me, sets my soul at ease. And yet the room is stagnant with grief, loss draining the air of light. So he sits, at the centre of all this, eyes fixed on an invisible point on the wall. So lost. So alone.
I breathe deeply. One final gift bestowed from D’Hoffryn. He said I’d regret it, but I insisted. I have to be careful. For Rupert to see me to early would ruin everything. Goddess, I hope I’m doing the right thing.
I lean in close, but not near enough for him to see me. An empty wine glass rests nearby, Simon and Garfunkel serenading lowly from the record player.
Oh how I love this man.
I don’t know how to start. How does one go about these things? It’s not exactly something they teach in school, appearing as a ghost. Or whatever a corporeal ghost is.
“My love.”
I nearly yelp. Rupert’s voice jolts me out of my morass of thoughts. But he hasn’t seen me. His face is filled with grief as he whispers to the emptiness in front of him.
“Oh my love, I am so sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” I say softly from behind him. I’ve an angelic smile on my face for when he turns, but he stays fixatedly gazing on the spot in front of him. Frowning, I study his face. He doesn’t seem surprised to hear me. Oh no. Has he talked to me often? My heart wrenches for him, so tortured by loss.
“I should have protected you,” he whispered. “You should never have been part of this world.”
I smile to myself. “I was born to this world, my dear. I embraced it.”
He shakes his head. “I should have saved you.”
“There was nothing you-”
“I should have saved you.” His head drops, and I wonder if he can hear me at all.
“No.” I walk around in front of him, dropping to my knees and taking his face in my hands. “My love, there was nothing you could have done.”
“You...” His face is incredulous. “You’re not here you can’t-”
I smile. “Just call it a miracle.”
“No, this isn’t real.” But he doesn’t move away, and his arguments fall weakly.
“Do I feel real?” I guide his hand to my cheek. “Is this real?” I bring his hand to my mouth, and I kiss it. “What about this?” I lean upwards, kissing him gently, passionately, lovingly. Oh. I had forgotten how good he tastes. “Don’t tell me that’s not real,” I murmur.
“Frankly,” he says, smiling and caressing my cheek, “I no longer care.”
I kiss him again, deeper, harder, faster. Oh, please don’t let this moment end. My hands want all of him, sliding over fabric, skin, slipping downwards...
“No.”
“Oh you gotta be kidding me,” I murmur, half joking.
He smiles, pressing a finger to my lips. Then he stands, pulling me up with him, gathering me into his arms. I laugh joyfully as he carries me up the stairs. “Ever the gentleman.” Setting me down gently on the bed, he undresses himself, eyes never leaving my face. I do the same.
“I swore I’d never return to this room,” he mutters, half to himself.
As he sits beside me I take his face in my hands again. “That’s gone. It’s over. This is now.”
“Concisely put, Ms Calendar.”
“Why thank you Mr Giles.”
“Jenny...” And he kisses me, touches me, has all of me and I have all of him. Then there is nothing but sensation, our souls coming together, more beautiful and wondrous than either of us could have thought. We cling to each other through the storm, feeling every strike of emotion, love, together. And when it is done we lie in each other’s arms, not knowing where one ends and the other begins.
My mother once said truest love was poetry in motion. Now, finally, I understand what she meant.
It’s a while before either of us speaks. I think Rupert is afraid of shattering the dream. I’m just too blissed out to talk. But all moments end.
“Rupert...”
“Please, a little longer.”
I smile sadly, raising myself up onto one elbow. “I’m sorry, my love. You know this can’t last.” I feel so cruel to say this to him, but he simply nods, ever the logical scholar.
“I know. Oh, but I want it to.” He sighs that English sigh and I laugh softly.
“I’ve only got so much time. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I don’t want to be here when it does. You’ve lost me once. You shouldn’t have to see me gone again.”
He nods. “Of course. Naturally. I understand.”
There is silence for a while, then I feel a pull, a tug, a need to be elsewhere. Resisting, I kiss Rupert again, tasting him for the last time, knowing I will love him forever.
“Rupert, I want you to... Oh God, I don’t want to sound like every cliché chick flick, but I want you to be happy. Move on.” He opens his mouth to argue, but I press a finger against it. “No debates. Just accept my wish, please. I can’t bear to see you suffer.”
“Yes, my love. I’ll do anything you ask.”
I smile and nod. “That’s my boy.” There’s that tug again, ever insistent. I wrench myself from the bed, wrapping the sheet around me. The room seems to fade, but I focus, pull myself back. Just a little longer, please. I’ll be done soon.
“I love you, Rupert.” I touch his cheek one last time, totally failing to hold back tears. “Remember that. I’ll always love you.”
“And I you.”
My sad smiles breaks, but I won’t let him see me cry. With a lingering look I drift out, down the stairs, out of the house. And there, in the courtyard, I let myself weep for a moment.
But somehow I know it’s not all over. As the world grows brighter, becoming light around me, I know I’m heading somewhere better. My work isn’t done yet. I can still help the world, and somehow I know this is the way. As I feel myself rising ever upward, I let it go. Vengeance, grief, passion, all melt away. This is my purpose now. And I smile.