Wesley the intriguingly unstable! Wesley of the scary laugh!

Oh, how I miss him. Such a lucious character development over six years. From utter dork to seriously scary.

Oh, how I miss him. Such a lucious character development over six years. From utter dork to seriously scary.

Scary enough to unnerve Marcie--now that's scary.

ETA: Plus, he has big plans. Heh.

cheers

This is SO much fun. Go Victor!

For the Open on Sunday 'Journeys' drabble challenge:

Always Coming Home.

Home means red hair; the sharp curve of a freckled shoulder blade; a blazing smile. Oz has travelled more miles than he can count, he has drunk tsuica in the Carpathians and mint tea in Fez; he has learned a slow, painful mastery of the wildness in his blood and now he's come full circle, salmon-urgent, never questioning that this is the time and the place he's been travelling towards.

Here. Now. Her.

Willow's face is eggshell pale in the moonlight, fragile and unspeakably precious as understanding belatedly dawns.

Oz feels joy flaring up under his skin. Nothing is impossible.

Part Twenty-Four: Gods and shadows

Dawn stared slack-jawed at the visage of her sister standing before her, next to Doc. The way she folded her arms and cocked her head, her posture and the way her hair fell along her shoulders—it was all perfect. It was a lie.

“You’re not my sister,” said Dawn, and then realization fell on her like a sudden thunderstorm, and her bones near-cracked from chilling. “I know who you are.”

“What, you’re not going to say my name, bitch?” said the thing wearing Buffy’s face.

“The First.”

“Yes.” Doc chuckled. “Yes, the First and I have come to a small arrangement. I get a small modicum of power, enough to resurrect the Beast, and it gets a new army of soldiers to replace the ones the slayer broke.”

“You mean us,” said Dawn, spitting the words.

“No, honey,” said the First. “You get to be a sacrifice.”

“Again,” said Dawn, trying to sound braver than she felt. “That trick never works.”

“It will this time,” said the First. “I can no longer act in your world, but certain rituals allowed me to grant old Doc here power over things that go bump in the night. If it’s touched by evil, Doc can control it. And by borrowing some of Illyria’s ambient power, he can bend time to find the points in history when they were touched.”

“Everybody’s touched by evil, said Doc. “But not everybody’s truly immersed in it, and I’m afraid it takes a certain immersion for this power to be truly effective.”

“So that’s why Willow’s the wicked witch again and Xander’s possessed by a hyena spirit again?” said Oz.

“Bingo,” said Doc.

“But what about Giles?” asked Oz. “He was pretty wild, but he wasn’t really evil.”

“Giles?” said Doc. “Oh, I’m sorry. You misunderstand. This isn’t Rupert Giles, is it Ripper?”

Giles’ face shook and contorted, growing narrower and Reptilian.

“Eyghon,” said Dawn. “The demon’s name was Eyghon.”

“Doc tells me that the slayer and the vampire with a soul managed to destroy me,” said Ripper. “But guess what kids? I’m back, and I’m bad.”

“But wait,” said Amy, who’d been listening quietly until this time. “If you’re draining Illyria’s power…”

“You catch on quick,” said Doc. “Yes, it’s my draining of Illyria’s energies that’s endangering the time pocket. Soon, it will wear though the dimensional walls, allowing gods and old ones and the like long bound from Earth to walk it again. In that moment, we’ll sacrifice the Key and the sire of Jasmine’s mortal form, and the time-lost remains of Illyria’s essence, and use the power from that to resurrect Glorificus.”

“We need you, Dawnie, because you’re tied to Glory, even if you don’t do anything spectacular anymore,” said the First, now walking between the chained prisoners and inspecting them. “Not that you ever did, babe. And it’s never a one for one trade with resurrecting gods. We need to sever two gods’ connections to the mortal plane before we can bring one back. Jasmine and Illyria seemed to be the ones that would object the least. Plus, it hurts you people, which-let me tell you--bonus.”

“But first things first,” said Doc, stepping beside the First. “The dimensional walls are thinning, and we’ll have company soon.”

Doc raised his right hand, and a dark, nebulous energy swirled around it. Justine, chained stoically felt a wash of loss and depression wash over her. Her shoulders slumped, and suddenly, she was filled with a mindless rage. Amy was consumed by an overwhelming anger and jealousy and her eyes turned jet black in rage. Oz convulsed, the wolf stealing his form so rapidly it hurt. Doc snapped his fingers, and the three were released. They stood with Faith, Xander and Willow, now part of Doc’s growing army.

Doc looked off in the distance, where a light shimmered and faded.

“They’re here,” said Doc. “It’s show time.”

This week's Open on Sunday challenge was "food/eating".

So....

At the Moment of Angel's Death (the title speaks for itself)

She picks the bits out of the ice cream, soft chewy nuggets of cookie dough in the bulky container, caught between her fingertips.

memory, is it a memory, the two of them snuggling close in a bed in a warm place, laughing, Angel running naked across the floor, coming back with a container of ice cream, dripping it on him, licking it off his nipple, is it a memory oh God

Buffy's hands begin to tremble.

An old spell suddenly wears off, and she suddenly understands the loss that must have led to this moment, what must have just happened.

deborah, that's really good.

Willow's face is eggshell pale in the moonlight, fragile and unspeakably precious as understanding belatedly dawns.

Fay, this is so visual to me. I can see Willow's face in my mind, breaking open with light. Lovely.

Part Twenty-Five: The way we were

Walking across dimensional barriers was like having electrical current pulse through your veins, and the effort left Ethan tremendously dazed. Wesley had little sympathy. The two of them were tremendously vulnerable, here. “So why didn’t we bring the bloody tin soldiers?” asked Ethan, annoyed.

“Two reasons,” said Wesley, scanning the city’s seemingly infinite skyline. “In the first instance, there’s some sort of spell on this place, it seems. Only those marked by evil can pass into the city. That leaves Finn and his soldiers out.”

“But not us,” sniffed Ethan.

“I’m dead and you’re a supervillain,” said Wesley. “It seemed natural.”

“And what’s the second reason?”

“I didn’t want them to get hurt,” said Wesley, now walking on. Ethan sighed and hurried after.

“So where the bloody Hell are we?”

“It’s been known by many names,” said Wesley. “When Illyria controlled it, it was called Vahla Ha’nesh. When she was trapped in the Deeper Well, her forces stayed here in stasis, until they passed, too. The shades of these creatures were reflected on Earth as nightmares. In opium-fueled dazes, writers and shamans would see reflections of it—one city that hid the ghosts of everything sacred and everything terrible buried in the recesses of their brains. To them, it was called R'lyeh.”

Ethan froze. The two walked another minute in near silence, save for Ethan grumbling underneath his breath.

“Come, now,” said Wesley. “You’re not scared, are you?”

“Nonsense.”

“You should be.”

Ethan looked up to see Willow, crackling with power, hovering above them. The air—totally still since their arrival—was now swirling around them. Ahead of them stood Amy, her eyes jet black, dust dancing in a swirl around her.

“Well, now,” said Ethan, his forehead sweating. “Looks like our Amy is all grown up.”

Ethan and Wesley flew backward with sudden force.

“The name’s not Amy, buddy,” said the young woman. “It’s Catherine.”

Ethan and Wesley struggled to their feet, but an invisible force was holding them down.

“Catherine was her mother, right?” said Ethan.

“Yes,” said Wesley. “I guess you did pay attention in briefings.

Willow landed on the ground next to Catherine, and the others followed suit. Faith and Justine first, walking side by side, brandishing weapons. Then the werewolf Oz, snarling at them, primed to pounce. Finally Xander and the demon Eyghon.

“Hello, Ripper,” said Ethan, quietly. The demon wearing Giles’ body loomed above them, smirking.

“Ethan,” he hissed. “Didn’t think we’d have a chance to connect. You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

“You’re completely outnumbered here, Wes,” said Faith, stepping to the fore. “You lost your entire team already. But then, that’s pretty much what you do, isn’t it. Lose people.”

Wesley lips pulled into a thin, dangerous smile.

“Hello, Faith,” he said. “What are you so happy about?” she asked. “You lost your entire team and then came in here with a past-his-prime Houdini knock off? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” said Wesley. “Figured I’d just roll the dice.”

Suddenly, Oz turned and leapt on Faith, his weight pinning her down. Instinctively, she lifted her arms to shield her face from his fangs.

“Trickster Gods,” invoked Ethan, flinging dust from a pouch tied to his belt. “I bid you now, rid these forms of the spirits who ride them.”

Amy’s and Giles’ bodies convulsed, and they both fell quivering to their knees as dark energy rose out of them. Willow, confused, rose her hand to cast a spell, but she was stunned as the butt of a pistol slammed down on her head, accompanied by the sound of maniacal giggling.

Wesley rose quickly to his feet.

“Amy,” he said. “If you’d be so kind.”

Dazed, mumbled words dripped from her mouth, as Oz leapt between her and the remaining combatants. Suddenly, there was a flash of light, and she, Oz, Ethan, Giles and Wesley were gone.

“Hello, Ripper,” said Giles, quietly. The demon wearing Giles’ body loomed above them, smirking.

Is there an Eyghon-Giles and a non-Eyghon Giles? One with Wes and Ethan and one not? Why doesn't Ethan go over to the other side? Is Wes controlling him? Does FE have to force its people over?

Also, is Wes immune because he's dead? Or doesn't the stuff that happened in "Billy" count as going evil?