All Disheveled Wandering Stars

S J Smith ([email protected])

Disclaimer:  I am not now, nor have I ever been, Joss Whedon or any part of Mutant Enemy.  Nor am I the writer of any of the lyrics/poetry included herein.  I'm not making any profit on this and it's taking time away from my original work, so I should stop writing this right now and go back to my own stuff, but they just don't shut up. 

Rating:  Let's start with 'R'

Summary:  "Where she tread, nothing would ever grow again, or that's what we'd been warned."

Distribution:  Geekgirlz-r.us, Adult BA Shippers, His Girl, BA Fluff.  

Spoilers:  Consider everything up to "Rain of Fire" and at least "Conversations With Dead People" to have happened.     

A.N. 1:  I found one of my old college lit books with my favorite line from one of my favorite poems marked in it.  Then I had this dream….

A.N. 2:  There will be changes of POV, going from first person to omniscient.  Each chapter will probably be different.  Hopefully, it's not too confusing. 

* * * *

Chapter 1:

AT THE RISE OF THE SUN

They fashioned their weapons one upon one

Ton upon ton, they called for war at the rise of the sun.

Out went the call to one and to all

That echoed and rolled like the thunder.

Trumpets and drums, roar upon roar

More upon more.

Rolling the call of "Come now to war."

Throughout the night they fashioned their might

With right on the side of the mighty.

They puzzled their minds plan upon plan

Man upon man

And at dying of dawn the great war began.

– The Monkees, Zor And Zam

Fred shoved her glasses firmly up on her nose, staring at the pages she'd filled of her journal, a huge green thing, ugly, but serviceable.  Sort of like her glasses.  The thought of them seemed to make them slip again and she pushed them back into place.  With a sigh, she flipped to the marker in the book, a scrap of a drawing that Angel had done so long ago, of her.  The pencil marks were fading and the paper was a little yellowed and smudged from her looking at it.  But really, it was the only thing she had of him that was hers and hers alone.  She could still remember when he drew her, a sketch she hadn't even realized he'd done until one day she found it on her bed.  She knew it had to be by Angel, no one else drew.  And it was so sweet that he'd done it.  She'd cherished the drawing then and with it in her journal, at least she knew she'd see it whenever she opened the pages. 

Fred took the pen off her bedside table, tapping it lightly against her lips.  Finally, she set the tip against the page and began to write. 

Memories seemed to be flying around everywhere today.  Spike and Cordelia got into a shouting match in the hotel and Spike stormed out.  No one stopped him.  Course, it was just me and Charles there to witness it and Charles, despite Spike being what he is, doesn't really care.  He doesn't like Spike.  But I've written that here before. 

 

Since memories keep being brought up, I'll write about them.  I think it seems right to put them on paper, even though some of them are in other books.  But maybe, because it's close to that time of year, maybe that's why it's bothering all of us again.  I know Willow and Xander were talking with Wesley and Faith the other day about going to see Mr. Giles.  They shut up when Cordelia walked into the room.  She still hasn't forgiven him for any of it.  If she knew what they were planning, she'd tell them no.  And she's strong enough that maybe they'd listen to her but maybe not, 'cause they're all mighty stubborn.  But like I was writing, maybe it's time to put down these memories again.  So someone, someday can look back at them and understand.           

 

It's been five years since Angel brought me back from Pylea.  Five years and more, maybe.  I remember those first days, when I was still mad.  Maybe I'm still a little crazy now but not like I was then.  Not like I was when the world ended.  I nearly lost everything then. 

It wasn't what we expected.  I mean, maybe someone expected it, obviously someone expected it.  Just not us.  We were all left in the dark and that's why it happened.  The really bad thing, I mean.  Sometimes I'm still surprised that it hurts as much as it does.  Sometimes it doesn't hurt at all, sort of like the memory of a toothache.  I just want to poke at it with my tongue until maybe the pain flares up again.  But there are other people around to do that for me.

Not poke at my teeth with their tongues, I mean.  But remember. 

I try to think of when things were good, though.  Before that big battle.  When we were a family and we all trusted each other.  Before Connor was born.  After Connor was born and before Holtz took him away.  But after Connor came back, well, it was sort of the beginning of the end.  What kind of boy does that to his father?  And with Cordelia missing and Wesley and Lorne gone away, it was just me and Charles and Connor.  We didn't know it at the time but we nursed a rattlesnake.  Wesley found Angel, we got Lorne and Cordelia back and Angel made Connor leave the hotel.  And then, all hell broke loose in the form of a really nasty demon and fire, raining from the sky. 

 

Before we lost contact with the rest of the world, we found out we weren't the only ones.  No, not just Los Angeles or London, or even Greece but Texas.  I think my parents would've fought, they're strong, you know?  But they might've come looking for me.  I sure hope they didn't. 

Things are…different now.  It reminds me a little of Pylea.  The demons are in control, sort of, maybe not.  It's so hard to tell.  They managed to get through, when it all went bad.  After the fire from the sky.  But we still try to do good things, you know?  We've got Cordelia here and she's still got some of her demonic powers and the Slayer, her name is Faith.  And a witch, Willow, and Wesley.  And Charles and me, of course, and Xander and Anya and Lorne.  And sometimes, when he's in town, Spike.  But he walks between the worlds, not quite human, not quite demon.  Faith says she doesn't trust him, not really, and I guess she's right.  Just because he used to be the vampire with the soul and was made human in the final battle – he shanshued – he still doesn't feel like he fits in with us too much.  Anya, who says everything, kind of like Cordelia, but she's sharper, like a cactus with arms, says it's because of the other Slayer, Buffy.  That Spike was in love with her and now she's dead.  Except he says she's gone.  Just gone, not dead, she and her sister, Dawn..  And if they're still alive, maybe that means Angel is, too. 

I don't know.        

But when the battle was done, when it was all over, there were four people missing.  We found one, Connor.  He was bled nearly white but smiling that fierce smile of his.  If you didn't look at his missing arm – or where his missing arm was supposed to be – he looked pretty good.  And in his hand, he held the sword that Angel had been carrying when he went into battle with the Slayer.  With Buffy. 

I remember seeing them, getting ready to fight.  Cordelia couldn't believe it, that Buffy was going to kill Connor.  She, Buffy, I mean, said it to Angel's face, that for the world to keep turning the way it was supposed to, Connor had to die.  And her friends were there to make sure that he did.  She had Willow and Mr. Giles and Anya and Spike backing her.  She had Xander and Dawn, too.  Angel told her there was no way he was gonna give over Connor for a sacrifice. 

So they fought. 

I didn't know that Buffy was stronger than Angel but Cordelia said she was and she wasn't gonna lose either of her men to the Slayer.  So she got into the fight, too. 

Funny thing about magic.  It works a little like math.  Cordelia stepped into the fight and the addition of her changed all the magic that Willow and Mr. Giles and Wesley had done.  But we didn't know.  Wesley told us all later that it was all an act, for Buffy and Angel to make sure that Dawn and Connor weren't gonna get hurt.  If Cordelia had stayed out of it, nothing would've happened.

But when she took up a weapon to face off with Buffy, Xander and Spike moved in, too.  And then Charles did from our team.  And me.  And the magic couldn't deal with it all.  Snapped like a rubber band.  It killed Mr. Giles.  I saw him fall.  I heard Wesley and Willow scream.  And then the snap hit the rest of us, too. 

When we came to, things were different.  We weren't out very long, not more than a second or two, from what Lorne told us later but that was enough time for the walls between the dimensions to crash down.  And in that instant, Earth was overrun. 

Now, there are demons and dragons and all sorts of things; things that don't even have names.  And we, well, we hide out at the Hyperion, but we're not really that hidden.  There are people – and demons – who know we're here.  That we're the good guys.  And they come to us if they have problems still.  We've got our own little army built up, a few demons who actually like humans, like the Brachens, and these things that Xander says look like the Manhunter from Mars.  And Spike has his friends too, who help us if things get really bad and then Charles' gang came to live at the hotel, so it isn't like we're fighting all alone any more.  Plus, you know, we have a Slayer.  Faith.  And she's superstrong.  Xander, Willow and Wesley busted her out of jail after the Troubles.  I don't remember who's idea it was, just that, after that battle, after we got cleaned up and back to the hotel, someone said we'd need a Slayer, that we couldn't do anything without one.  And someone remembered Faith. 

She's a good person, Faith.  She's a little rough and she's really sexy and Cordelia hates her, just hates her but she's still good and funny and she sure can fight.  She spends a lot of time with the Sunnydale crowd, as Cordelia likes to call them, Xander and Willow and sometimes Wesley, too.  And she doesn't think that Angel's dead any more than Spike thinks Buffy is. 

But it still doesn't explain where they are.

When they were getting ready to face each other, Angel and Buffy, I mean, I saw it.  I'd always thought kye-rumption when I saw Cordelia and Angel sparring.  And moira, too.  Then I saw Angel and Buffy come together on the battlefield, all right, it was in a theatre that had fallen through the ground during some old earthquake, and it was as if I'd never seen Angel before.  He wasn't the same person, not at all, sure, fierce and protective and all 'grr', like Cordelia says but deadly and dangerous and sure, like that big panther I saw once cross the road in front of me when I still lived in Texas.  My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice when they drew their swords and Wesley and Willow and Mr. Giles started chanting at each other and I suddenly realized why Cordelia hated Buffy Summers.  She was beautiful and she was Angel's first love and you never really ever get over your first love, I know I didn't and even if Angel loved Cordelia, you could see it in his eyes when he faced Buffy, that there was something electric and scary between them, something larger than life and beyond the telling.  There aren't words for what they had, not in English, Latin or Pylean, just something that made you think if you got between them, you were gonna be burnt to a crisp. 

So that's why Cordelia stepped into the fight, 'cause she thought Angel would be killed by Buffy.  If she'd just stayed out of it, Wesley said, Willow said, if we'd all trusted Angel and Buffy, things wouldn't be like this. 

But they are. 

And there's no use crying over spilt milk or dropped diodes or hell dimensions.  Because we have to live in it.  Even if it's hard. 

-Fred Burkle, December, 16, 2006

She stared at what she'd written for a few seconds then carefully replaced the marker and closed her journal.  Setting it back inside the drawer, she laid the pen down on top of it and turned her gaze towards the window.  Slowly getting up, she walked to it, pushing back the curtain so she could see what remained of Los Angeles. 

At night, it didn't seem much different, still lit up like a tree on Christmas morning, but things were changed.  Xander sometimes said that it was like "living in Mad Max's world but with more demons."  It was harder to get food and clothes sometimes, and fuel.  It was like Darwin's theorem come to life sometimes.  The weak didn't make it, not unless they allied themselves to someone willing to protect them.  Sighing, Fred let the curtain close and sank back on her bed. 

"Someone like us," she said to the ceiling as she lay down, pulling the blankets over herself.  "Someone like us."

Her memories mocked her, just a little.  What they said, in Faith's voice, was, "Someone like Buffy.  Someone like Angel."

Swallowing hard, Fred turned on her side and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep. 

* * *

Looking down on empty streets, all she can see

Are the dreams all made solid

Are the dreams made real

--Peter Gabriel, Mercy Street

Sometimes, when she woke, she wasn't sure where she was.  She'd lie still, feeling an arm around her or her head was pressed against a man's chest and she didn't hear a heartbeat and it would take her back in a lightning strike, back to that time of agony.  Her consciousness would swim for an instant, despair threatening to haul her back down to drown.  Not again, she'd think in horror, not again. 

This evening, she was lucky.  Her eyes opened and she blinked, trying to focus on the face that stared happily down at her.  Warm brown eyes met hers, a flash of white teeth.  Buffy Summers stretched slowly, grinning back.  "Good evening," she said.  "I love you.  Do you love me?" 

Cafell barked back, her plumy black and white tail waving in the air. 

Reaching up, Buffy caught the dog's muzzle.  "Shh," she said, turning her head to look at the face on the pillow next to her, "you don't want to wake Daddy."  The dog pulled free with a snort.    

"That would be a bad idea."

"It's your turn to take the little darling out," Buffy said, nudging him with her elbow.  A dark eye, fringed by marvelously long lashes, appeared out of the pillow.  She was struck by how timeless he seemed, lying here next to her.  And how she didn't want to be anywhere else.  The thought flickered through her mind that she was lying, there was one other place she'd like to be but that time was past. 

"I did."

"Last night.  I took her out while you were stuck in here."  Buffy gestured as Cafell started pawing at the blankets with her snowy white paws.  "It's tonight.  Take your dog for a walk."

That brought a little more of him out from under the covers, not necessarily a bad thing.  Buffy could ogle his chest.  And Cafell was starting to dance on the bed, a sure sign that she was ready to go outside.  Then again, she was always ready to go outside.  "My dog?"

"Your dog.  You're the one who rescued her from that," Buffy leaned back into her pillow, eyeing him up lecherously, "what was it you rescued her from again?"

Angel gave her a glare.  "A K'tlarn," he said.

"Yeah."  She crossed her arms behind her head.  "So, the faster you take her for a walk, the sooner you'll be back and we can go do whatever it is we're doing tonight."

He raised his eyebrows, looking deliberately from Buffy to Cafell and back again.  "Maybe we're spending the night home with our little darling."

"Somehow, I'm thinking not.  We've got to get food somewhere."  Buffy nudged at him with her elbow again.  "Go on.  Get dressed."

"You first."

"We're not taking Cafell with us while we try to scrounge food.  That old lady keeps trying to buy her off of us to eat her."

"She's hungry," Angel said gently. 

Buffy bit her lower lip, turning away.  "She's not getting our dog."

"No, she isn't."  He pushed her bangs off her forehead and dropped a kiss there.  "But in her culture, it's all right to eat dogs."

"Well, we're in America.  Or what's left of it.  And we don't eat dogs here.  Knowingly."  Buffy folded her arms, then opened again, beckoning to the dog.  "Right Cafell?  Who's Mommy's girl?  Who's the bestest, prettiest doggy?"  Cafell crashed onto Buffy's chest, lapping at her face.  "Good girl.  Good girl.  I don't need a doggy-tongue bath but what a sweetie."

"Get up," Angel said to her, patting her calf as he sat up.  Cafell leaped off the bed and Buffy ogled Angel's back instead, reaching out to trace her fingers over the tattoo on his right shoulder.  "We need," he said, arching back into her touch, "to get out of this bed."

"Maybe just one of us does."  She pouted for a few seconds as Angel managed to pull away from her.  He went to the closet they shared, pulling out a shirt quickly and putting it on, hiding some of his bare skin from her view.  "Angel," she said, drawing his name out into a whine.    

He glanced over at her, his eyes warming at the sight of her.  It didn't stop him from stepping into the pair of old grey jeans with the rips in interesting places.  When she held out her hands to him, he returned to her, letting her take his hands.  "I have to take Cafell out.  She's practically crossing her legs."

"Mm."  Buffy stretched up to kiss his chin.  "Hurry back."  She let herself drop back into the pillows, her hair fanning around her.  

He touched the tip of her nose.  "We will."  Turning to the dog dancing by the door, he said, "Cafell.  Where's your leash?" 

Her black ears coming alert, the dog made a quick circuit, heading out of the bedroom.  Angel followed her, pausing in the doorway to look back at her.  Buffy smiled.  "Love you."

He gave her a little grin.  "Love you," Angel said and disappeared through the doorway. 

She could hear him talking to Cafell as she plumped up the pillows, adjusting them so she could sleep a little longer.  With a little sigh, Buffy curled onto her side, tucking her arm under her head and drifted off to sleep. 

* * *