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dragonyphoenixThanks ever so much to divine one, for the beta read. You are seriously awesome and I appreciate the help.
Warnings: This story contains violence, death, and references to Watcher Council politics.
Disclaimer: Joss' characters sure don't belong to me. Lady Marjorie Westriding gets her name from a character in Grass by Sherri Tepper; Lady Marjorie’s appearance is based off of that of Audrey in the PBS series To the Manor Born. None of these characters belong to me. The song I quote is called "Hurt"; I'm familiar with the version sung by Johnny Cash but it's originally by Nine Inch Nails.
Story so far: In my universe, Angelus does not love Buffy; he has Angel's memories of loving Buffy, but that's it. Also in my universe, vampires cannot perform human magic but some vampires, such as Angel/Angelus, can detect which humans have magical power. When Angel loses his soul, Angelus decides he wants access to Willow's magical power so he kidnaps and brainwashes her. Buffy, Giles, and Xander were killed when they tried to rescue Willow. Angelus, helped by Willow, Spike and Drusilla, attacks a Council library, causing the death of two of its caretakers. When Spike finally gets too fed up with Angelus' taunts to remain, Willow leaves with him. Subsequently Willow has a nervous breakdown and Spike takes her to be healed. Unfortunately this very deep soul healing forces her to realize she can't stay with the vampire and she leaves him at the end of the fourth story.
How Angelus is referred to:
The Council refers to him as Angelus.
Vampires always call him Angel.
Willow refers to Angelus as either Angelus or Angel, depending on how she’s feeling about him at the moment.
To Charles and Frank,
May you build a lifetime of cherished memories together.
Lily Out of Water 5: Falling Petals Carry Moonlight
Men in black combat uniforms, computer generated camouflage, specifically designed to hide the wearer in shadows, blacker than black against the darkness, stealthed into place, surrounding Willow as she moved away from crowds, as she moved away from witnesses.
Fleeing my love, I tore out my heart and left it behind me. I grew a new heart and with wondering eyes saw the world anew. However I could still see the danger, the evil lurking under the surface but, with no way to fight the darkness, I wandered without purpose in the city that had given my love life. And death. My heart hunted me down there. Even though we’d never been there together, everywhere I looked, I saw my love: he was just down every street, he was about to step around every corner.
I’d been successfully drinking myself into oblivion when I realized where I was. The name of the pub had changed, it was The Fox and Badger now, but this was the place Spike had told me about, this was where Spike and Angelus had played that game of darts. They’d created an elaborate system of points for hitting different body parts – eyeballs scored the most points because they were small, hard to hit – especially on a running target – and they squished amusingly.
I barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up. I didn’t try to get drunk again but instead fled to the twilight darkened streets, not noticing where I was heading, until I felt a sharp pain on my hip. I looked down to see a dart. I had just started to wonder why Angelus had gone for such an easy target when I blacked out.
---
After... I went back to the last place I’d been completely happy. I went back to the last place where I’d had control. Sunnydale. I thought about knocking down the sign, for old times sake. Didn’t.
Willow wasn’t there. A new family lived in her home. Knowing Angel would take his rage out on them, she must have warned her parents off, that or Angel actually had come back. Either way, it was a dead end as far as I was concerned.
I wandered around in a daze, completely losing track of time in California’s eternal summer with winter's darkness in my heart. Was a wonder I didn’t get myself killed. Time was when a good fight would have cheered me right up. Not now. I dealt with it when I was attacked, vanquished mine enemies, left them for dead, all that rot but didn’t get any enjoyment out of it.
Barely kept myself fed until the night I found myself in a kitchen with a knife in my hand and five corpses strewn at my feet. Must have been quite a frenzy but I didn’t remember it. Radio, tuned to an all-pain-all-the-time station, started playing:
I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
I followed the music down to the basement, some sort of tacky 70's retro look in what seemed to be a den. I'd planned to trash the radio but by the time I'd gotten down there the words had sunk in. Physical pain I could deal with so I took the knife and stabbed it into my heart. Bloody Hell! I pulled it out, which hurt even more, but I felt better, clearer. I stabbed my heart again, fell to the floor, and lay twitching on the lime green shag until I heard more truth than I could take.
I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here
I pulled the knife out and stumble-dragged myself across the room to smash the radio. I knew what I had to do. I’d stayed here because I didn’t want to know that Willow had left me for Angel, but now I had to see it with my own eyes.
Knowing that the truth would hurt more than the knife, I went in search of the truth.
---
When I woke, I kept my eyes closed, trying not to signal I was conscious. My mind felt foggy: whatever had been in that dart packed quite a wallop. A cool breeze rushed across my face but my body was covered and warm. I could hear birds chirping but nothing else. I smelled... food?
I opened my eyes. I focused on the food but got a general impression of the room: understated, high quality. A silver serving set that looked like an heirloom sat on a side table. I lifted a cover: eggs, bacon, potatoes and. Beans? Still warm. I thought about eating. If they’d wanted to keep me drugged they could have done it while I was under. Like Spike had. On the other hand, after living with Angelus for years, I’d known creatures that would have enjoyed tricking some poor soul into poisoning himself. I glanced at the sun filled day through the window. Whoever is holding me here isn’t Angel. Still, the principle held. After using a few magic spells to check for different poisons, I decided that the food was probably, almost definitely, safe to eat.
After breakfast, knowing I wouldn’t get far in a nightgown, I opened the closet to find all the clothes I’d acquired since I’d left Spike. He’d cared more about saving my life than our belongings and had abandoned everything but the clothes on our backs in his rush. Whoever had me had taken the time and care to bring all my belongings here. I didn’t know whether to be pleased or disturbed. It would help if I knew who they were, I thought as I peered out of my room. A man wearing a dark outfit that had the look of a servant’s uniform, which fit with what I’d seen so far of the house, was waiting in the hall. With his thin frame he should have looked innocuous but I’d lived among vampires long enough to recognize someone who could take care of himself in a fight. “This way, miss,” he said, very formally, before leading me downstairs.
“Thank you Mr.?” I asked.
“Conway, miss,” he replied as we entered a parlor where two people sat, apparently waiting for me. The woman, old enough to be my mother, gave off the same impression as the house – old money. She wore neutral colors: tan silk blouse, plaid patterns of beige and gray on a skirt that fell below her knees, and sensible brown pumps. I couldn’t tell if it was her face, which could claim more character than beauty, or the assured way she held herself, but she dominated the room. The man, who was closer to my age, older than me by about 5, at most 10, years, wore clothes that looked as tasteful as the woman’s although more utilitarian: black turtleneck, black pants, and leather pumps. He looked like the type who could have worn that spotless outfit into battle and come out looking as polished as when the fighting had started. I’d put on the most conservative outfit I had, not knowing where I’d need to blend in, but with my skirt well above my knees, I looked cheap and flashy in comparison.
“Ah, Miss Rosenberg,” said the woman in a tone that was both polite and welcoming. “I’m Lady Marjorie Westriding and this is my nephew, Wesley Wyndam-Price. Would you care for some tea?” she asked, pouring out the tea and letting me choose my own cup. I admired her subtlety and waited for them to make the first move.
“I trust you found your room to your liking?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you Lady Westriding. It’s very comfortable and the breakfast cleared my head.” The man, Mr. Wyndam-Price, rolled his eyes; Lady Westriding glared at him for a moment and then leaned towards me slightly, saying, “Please, call me Lady Marjorie and feel free to refer to my nephew as Wesley.” As she finished speaking, he spared her an irritated glance but didn’t comment.
I’d done something wrong but didn’t know what. “Thank you, Lady Marjorie.”
“You are no longer traveling with your companions from New York?” she asked as she added sugar to her tea.
Who are they? Should I threaten them? Tell them that Angel would tear England down stone by stone to find me? OK, that metaphor was just a tad over the top; may as well have just asked, “Where’s Buttercup?” “Mmm,” I nodded noncommittally.
Her nephew spoke for the first time. “We know you’ve had a falling out with the vampires.”
“Do you?” I asked. How long have they been keeping track of me?
“Angel has made some especially brutal killings lately, even for him. Each of the women had red hair, which may have been coincidence...” he trailed off. Lady Marjorie glared at him although whether that was because he’d unsettled me or because he’d given me information she didn’t want me to have, I didn't know.
I tried to hide my discomfort with a superior smile but I’m afraid my expression must have looked as desperate as I felt. Angelus is killing me by proxy? Why should I be surprised? He almost killed me in the alley. If Spike hadn’t been following me, he would have succeeded. “Lover’s quarrels are quickly mended,” I replied.
“The viciousness of the attacks suggests...” he started.
I leaned towards him and interrupted, whispering, “You don’t know vampires as well as I do.”
Lady Marjorie touched Mr. Wyndam-Price’s hand and something passed between them. His next words were filled with certainty. “We know Angelus well enough to be certain that this is something more than a lover’s quarrel.”
Between the two of them, I felt like I was walking on quicksand. “Believe what you will,” I replied for lack of a better response.
“We believe you and Spike left Angel a little under four months ago.” I didn’t quite gasp when he said Spike’s name but I could see they’d both noticed my reaction although Mr. Wyndam-Price continued without commenting on it. “We lost track of you and Spike after you left New York until you showed up here, alone in England, and he returned to New York, at least temporarily. He’s vanished from view again but it’s highly doubtful he’s in New York and he’s certainly not with Angel.”
“You’ve been tracking us?”
“The Council wants you dead,” he replied.
“Me?” I asked.
He ticked off four fingers in response. “Angelus, Spike, Drusilla, and of course yourself.” He closed his fist in a dramatic gesture. “In response to your attack on the Perry library and the deaths of two of its caretakers.”
I hardened my heart at the thought. Robert, Paul's assistant, had died quickly but Angelus, jealous that I had befriended the older man, had directed Spike and Drusilla to drag out Paul's death. Needing to change the subject before my feeling betrayed me, I asked “And what’s that to you?”
Lady Marjorie replied. “My nephew heads one of the Council factions.”
Then why am I still alive? “Council factions” she said. Paul told me to choose carefully whom I approached if I went to the Council but it looks like the Council’s come to me. Perhaps I can shock them into giving something away. “They why aren’t I dead? Do you expect me to help you hunt down my friends and then sit tamely by, like some loyal dog, while you kill me as well?” Lady Marjorie remained calm but Mr. Wyndam-Price flinched, barely enough to be noticeable but I caught it, when I referred to the vampires as my friends.
“We,” Lady Marjorie replied with a glance at her nephew, “should have said certain factions in the Council want you dead. When you attacked the Perry library, you made enemies in the Council. They realized you were traveling alone and decided to act but Wesley’s people got to you first. I convinced him to bring you here.”
“Why?”
“Rupert Giles was a close friend,” she said. “He spoke very highly of you and I’m convinced thought of you as a protégé. Knowing you’d been... manipulated, I acted as Rupert would have wanted. Once we had you under our protection, we were planning to deprogram you but it wasn’t necessary. Why?”
“Have you heard of the House of the Catmaster?” I asked.
They both paled. “You survived?” Overcome by memories of the awe I’d felt in that place, I nodded in response.
Lady Marjorie spoke a guttural phrase and magic washed over me. “She’s speaking the truth. The magic of that place is still on her. And something else, you’ve made an oath. You’ve sworn to defend, to protect, to... heal.”
“It wasn’t an oath so much as a feeling.”
“In that place, they’re the same thing,” Lady Marjorie said.
I waved that aside. Spike was in immediate danger. Lady Marjorie’s magic was a palpable presence, not as strong as mine but I sensed she could call upon the magic of others at a moments notice. To get out of here, I’d have to be subtle. “You said I’d been manipulated.”
Lady Marjorie started to answer but was interrupted by her nephew. “You were brainwashed by your so called friends. We’ve read your journal.”
“My journal?” I asked, absolutely stunned.
“We found it. We were meant to find it. Perhaps you didn’t know that Mr. Giles and Miss Summers were, I suppose put on display is the best way to describe it: they were seated to look like a father reading to his daughter, the book in Mr. Giles’ hands was your journal.”
Did I think that talking to them was like walking on quicksand? It’s more like being sucked down by a whirlpool. I’ll need a focus, a purpose if I’m going to get through this. Spike. I still need to warn Spike. Even to save Spike, I didn’t know how to respond until Mr. Wyndam-Price attacked again. “It would soothe things over if you helped us kill the vampires. Angelus and Drusilla are still in New York. Spike will turn up some...”
“No,” I interrupted. So much for subtle, I thought.
As Mr. Wyndam-Price started to rise from his chair, Lady Marjorie held up her hand. He sank back down, looking at me warily. “Could you kill Angel?” she asked me.
“He... Yes,” I reluctantly replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Drusilla?” she continued.
“Yes.”
“Spike?” she asked.
“I don’t think I could bring myself to...”
“Wesley,” Lady Marjorie nodded towards the door. He gave me a disgusted look as he left. I looked away.
“Miss Rosenberg,” Lady Marjorie said, “it would be best if you remained here.” I startled at her statement, as this was the last thing I’d expected to hear from her. “But you’re planning to leave,” she continued. “To find Spike? To warn him?” I didn’t bother to reply. “Think,” she said. “How will you find him?”
“I can’t stay here while you kill him,” I replied. Shit. I’d completely lost control of the conversation, assuming I’d ever had any control over it.
“I’ll make you a deal. If you remain here...”
“Remain?” I interrupted.
“You are, of course, free to leave whenever you want although I wouldn’t recommend it. You’re overwrought and we won’t be able to save you a second time. If you remain here, I promise that Wesley’s people won’t harm Spike.”
I thought about how Mr. Wyndam-Price had reacted earlier. She hadn’t said no harm would come to Spike. Her nephew could pass Spike’s location to the other factions and Spike would be just as dead. “I don’t believe your nephew will agree,” I told her.
“I can convince him,” she replied.
“Why should I trust you? Or him, for that matter.”
“I know you’ve been close to the vampire but you don’t have the Council’s resources. They will almost certainly find him first. We can find a way to put you in contact with him, to warn him yourself.”
“I. Don’t. Know,” I cried. I didn't know what to do; trust these polite enemies and hope they wouldn't betray me or try to escape the open cell they'd thrown me into. I wasn't ready. I had no allies.
“I’m sorry,” Lady Marjorie replied. “This is too much, too soon. I’ll set things in motion with Wesley and you can give me your answer tomorrow, after you’ve had a good night’s rest.”
They’ll be looking for him either way, I thought. To kill him if I don’t agree to whatever it is they want. If I do agree, they might kill him anyway.
---
“Spike. Spike. Spike. Didn’t anyone ever tell you? Playing peeping Tom is just rude.” I took a drag of my cigarette and didn’t answer. “Dru’s not coming back to you and I wouldn’t have your sorry ass back for all the tea in China. Poor Spike, how it must hurt to be alone.” Angel dropped his voice to a whisper. “It’s because you don’t know how to keep the ladies happy. You lost Dru to me and you lost Willow to...”
“To?”
Angelus singsonged, “You don’t know who has Willow.”
“She didn’t come back to you. I’m bloody sure of that.” No. I’m not sure. Haven’t seen her here though.
Angel laughed. “It might have been safer for her than where she’s at now, probably not though. I’d likely kill the witch even if she came crawling back to me on her hands and knees.”
“What do you know? Who has Willow?” I asked.
“Ah, Spike. You leave me. You take my witch. You sit here mooning after my girl. She is my girl, you know. She told me you never were really able to satisfy her.”
He’s playing an old game. Tormenting me about Drusilla. Yes, it still hurts but if what he’s suggesting is true, that Willow is in danger... Fine. You want to play an old game? I’ll give you and old game. I leapt at Angel and slammed him against the alley wall. “Where is Willow?”
Laughing, Angel broke my grip and shoved me away. “Council’s got her. She went to London after she... dumped you. Either they’ve decided to go in for extended torture or she’s dead by now.”
Council? Those bastards. Some of the shit they pull makes Angel look like a bloody saint. “We've got to rescue her.”
“We? Spike. They saved me the trouble of hunting her down and torturing her myself. Not that I wouldn't have enjoyed the chance. That fair skin bruises, ah, so easily.” As he turned and walked away, Angel said, “Good luck rescuing your lady fair.” Turning back, he added, “Oh, and Spike? Don’t come back. I’ll kill you next time.”
---
“Wesley, please bring these two pails,” my aunt directed while picking up a third pail of flowers herself.
As we climbed the stairs up from the cellar, I asked, “Are you certain Miss Rosenberg won't be able to overhear our conversation?”
Closing the cellar door behind us, my aunt replied, “As you well know, Susan Price is reviewing Miss Rosenberg's magical knowledge in the mother-in-law cottage. While Susan doesn't have as much magical power as Miss Rosenberg, she does have enough to detect any attempts to magically listen in on our conversation.” Aunt Marjorie turned, raised an eyebrow at me, and then continued admonishingly, “As do I. We can speak freely, Wesley.”
We walked through the tea room, which was warmed out of its autumn chill by sunlight streaming in through the bay window, and towards a small table where where seven vases of varying sizes were laid out below a hop vine wreath.
Since my aunt was already annoyed with me, I decided I didn't need to be diplomatic. “You can’t expect me to ally myself with her.”
“Hand me the spindle, Wesley. I don’t see why not since you want to bring both witches and Americans into the Council,” she replied as she arranged the yellow leaved foliage in the first vase.
“The Council will never accept someone who’s been so closely associated with vampires,” I replied.
“From what I understand, Angel assisted the Slayer,” she said, deliberately using Giles’ name for the vampire.
“Angelus killed the Slayer. And her Watcher,” I sniped.
“The ampeliosis next please. But while he had his human soul...” she added as I passed her the branches.
“None of them currently have human souls,” I interrupted, “Which does not seem to have changed Miss Rosenberg’s regard for them.”
“You’re exaggerating, Wesley. She said herself that she’d be willing to kill Angelus and Drusilla. Abutilon.” she replied placing a second vase back on the table.
“But not Spike,” I said, passing her the shorter stemmed red flowers.
“Spike is the key. If she felt he weren’t threatened...” she started.
“May I remind you that it is my duty to kill vampires?” I interrupted.
“Wesley,” she snapped. “I am well aware of how you feel about vampires, especially after they killed your Slayer but the Council was not completely innocent in that disaster either. You’re blinding yourself to the bigger picture.” She precisely arranged three flowers in a third vase, giving us both time to calm down.
“Very well. I shall attempt to keep my prejudices against evil, undead monsters in check. You want her as an ally for my faction,” I replied, handing her two cosmos flowers. In way of an apology I added, “This dark brown will make a lovely progression with the yellow-red spindle and the abutilon.”
“Yes, thank you Wesley,” she replied. “Of course I want her allied with your faction. Her power will attract alliances and yours is the most ethical faction in the Council. Even if you weren’t my nephew, I’d want her allied with you.”
“I’m not sure I want her. Do you know how much trouble she’ll cause me? Paul Smith had many Council connections and allies before Miss Rosenberg and her friends killed him.”
“We can explain. They’d understand about the House of the Catmaster,” she said.
“People are driven by emotions. Logic won’t be enough. Allying myself with her will cost me too many key people in the Council,” I replied.
“Taylor can swing some to your side. Hand me the red violets, please,” she added.
“After being out of the country for over two decades, his connections aren’t what they once were,” I said, handing her flowers just a few shades darker than the cosmos.
“He’s been back here for the past two years, renewing his contacts while working for you,” she replied, adding about a half-dozen violets to the vase that already contained the larger cosmos.
“Yes, and he’s known as my man. He’s thought of as biased.”
She stopped arranging flowers and turned to gape at me. “He’s the foremost expert on numerous branches of the occult. His opinion is highly respected.”
“In occult circles, yes, but the Council has a different view. They believe he abandoned his duty,” I replied.
“The Council relies on his expertise.”
"Only because Faith insisted," I said.
She put her hand over mine to comfort me. Of course, being my aunt, she then dropped the maternal role by expecting the impossible. “Have him come up with a convincing argument, Wesley. He and Mannering will do what you want them to.”
“They will do what I ask within reason but yes, in this case I do believe you are correct,” I briefly surrendered. “However Travers will oppose it merely to weaken my power base. Urqhart’s in his pocket and Aldridge was much too close to Smith to ever agree to bring his murderess into the Council.”
“Miss Rosenberg didn’t murder Paul Smith.”
“She was part of it. Come to think of it, Taylor and Smith were roommates at Oxford, very close friends.” I was suddenly worried Aidan Taylor wouldn’t follow my lead concerning Miss Rosenberg.
“Taylor will come round,” she said as she pointed to the dahlias.
“Know him that well, do you?” I asked, passing her the bright red flowers.
As she arranged the dahlias in the fifth vase, she said, “I know his reputation both as a scholar and in terms of his loyalty to you.” I’d explained the basis of that loyalty to her so she knew I could count on Aidan for almost anything. “Tell him about Willow’s situation: the brainwashing, the House of the Catmaster, and especially her oath. He’ll know what that means better than either of us do. That leaves Samuels, Collingridge, O’Neill, McFarlane, and Eddington. O’Neill owes me a favor.”
“Been playing Council politics, aunt?” I asked.
“He’ll convince Collingridge for us,” she said, removing Italian bugloss, Apple of Peru, and purple violets from the third pail.
“That must have been one Hell of a favor,” I added.
“Don’t swear, Wesley,” she said, pushing stems between the marbles of one of the smallest vases. “Samuels is a lost cause. He’ll never agree to bring magic users into the Council so that leaves two to be worked on: Eddington and McFarlane.”
“And one other, I’m afraid. I’m still not convinced.”
“She has too much power, Wesley, and she’s looking to do good. She’s going to align herself with someone. Do you want a repeat of that fiasco with Harding? Good intentions leading to disaster? Or think of that power in the hands of a plausible con artist. She must be allied with somebody both ethical and pragmatic. None of the other factions come close to having your ethics and your pragmatism has been hard earned.” She removed gentians from the third pail and started pushing their stems between the marbles of the final vase.
Oh Lord, as if my aunt weren’t idealistic enough, she’s foisting a starry-eyed...
“Wesley,” she interrupted with a voice that snapped right through me; ever since I was a boy that tone meant I’d put my foot in it. “Both Miss Rosenberg and I are significantly more pragmatic than you are currently giving us credit for.”
I put a baleful expression on my face. While I didn’t expect it to faze my aunt, and it didn’t, it was useful to keep in practice for when I was dealing with lesser beings. “I never can tell how you know what I’m thinking, occasionally before I do.”
She smirked in response and added a few final flowers to the last vase. “Stop glaring at me, Wesley. Now back to Miss Rosenberg...”
“Yes, all right, aunt, you’ve made your point. I’ll bring Miss Rosenberg into the Council although you should start praying that one of the other factions doesn’t kill her.
“We’ve put her on her guard. I doubt they could now,” she said.
“That dart we shot her with needn’t have contained a tranquilizer,” I replied.
“Wesley Wyndam-Price!”
“I know, aunt. You’ve convinced me this is the right thing to do and I never completely disagreed with you. That kind of oath doesn’t come out of nowhere. I suspect Powers are interfering but it does make my life significantly more difficult.”
“You’d get bored if your life wasn’t difficult,” she said, scattering hop seeds between the vases.
“Sometimes I think I’d like boredom.”
no subject
Date: 2010-09-06 03:33 am (UTC)That Wesley is why I'm writing Lotus in Muddy Water, the storyline where Wesley is Faith's Watcher. I was watching BtVS Season 3 and noticing the differences between that Wesley and mine. I started wondering 1) what had changed him and 2) if I could write a slow tranformation.
And I so need to fix the lack of blank lines between paragraphs here. Ick!