PLANET X

Long Time No Post

2009-01-10T02:45:01Z

Hi Strangers.
Wow, time flies doesn't it? My last post was like 8 months ago!!! The mind boggles.
Okay, so, The news on my end? After my breakdown last Christmas, I got some therapy (+ meds), and things actually started to go right in my life. I started a fantastic new job that I love, and I've been busy, busy, busy. Too busy to post at LJ? You bet.
I've been so far out of the loop around here that I'm pretty much loopless, but just to dip my toe back in, I've redone my layout and I've resolved to start posting a Dawson's Creek WIP that I've been working on. Any more participation than that, I can't really promise.
Catch you round, peeps.

Timid wave hello

2008-04-26T11:00:27Z

Uh...Hi again everyone. It's been WAY too long since I've been here, I know. I am a bad LJ friend. But there is a (reasonable?) explanation of sorts under the cut for those who are interested...

So, I basically had a breakdown over Christmas. The depression that I'd been battling on and off for a while just completely took over my life and I spent most of the holidays in tears and unable to stop.

It's taken some time, but with therapy and medication, I am now back on a reasonable par and doing OK. Not spectacular, but OK. And that's all I'd like to say about that.

In other news, I have succumbed to the evil that is Facebook. I hang around over there under my real name - "Wendy Brewer". Come on over and friend me if you want to.

Cheers all. Hope to be seeing more of you. :)

Equinox (12/12), PG by Canton Heroine (AU)

2007-08-12T12:11:58Z

PLEASE READ? *begs* I posted this a week ago and no-one commented, so I'm being a big freak and putting it up again.

This is it, the very last chapter. I was putting off posting because that meant it was really, truly finished and I had to say goodbye. I've invested six years in this 'verse, and I'm gonna miss it...

e-qui•nox n. [L. æquus, equal, and nox, night.]
Either of the two occasions during a year when the sun crosses the equator, making the day and night everywhere of equal length.

TIMELINE: Set five years after True Colors. (It’s not vitally important that you’ve read the Linkverse Trilogy first, but it helps put things in context). An updated version is now available at http://www.dark-solace.org/elysian/viewuser.php?uid=44

SUMMARY: Life in the Grey household takes an unexpected turn with the arrival of a new Slayer

-12-
DENOUEMENT

Lydia replaced the phone handset and turned to face Giles.

When she didn’t speak for a moment, he raised his brows in question. “Well?”

She sighed. “I’ve managed to expedite Peter’s deportation. He and his lackeys will be dealt with at London HQ. Most of the other Council hierarchy had no idea what he was up to, nor do they approve of his actions. I believe the exact words Sir Charles used were that he will be ‘severely reprimanded’.”

Giles’ smile took on a decidedly wicked bent. “Excellent,” he said in a satisfied tone.

Lydia wasn’t sure she wanted an explanation. She unobtrusively straightened her glasses, looking a little sheepish. “I’m, um, I’m to be made temporary head of operations.”

“A position you well deserve.” Giles reached up and began plucking her hairpins out one by one, he preferred her less straight-laced. “I can’t think of anyone better suited.” He curled a freed lock of wheaten hair around his finger. “When do you leave?”

“I don’t.”

“You…” He paused and frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

Lydia pulled away. He really was the most distracting man. “Buffy and Spike were correct in their allegations that the Council serves no purpose as it is. It’s ludicrous for us to be sitting in a comfortable boardroom on the other side of the planet, espousing defunct theorems and participating at our leisure. It hardly puts us in a position for any Slayer to take us seriously. I can certainly see why I wasn’t.” She grimaced in self-deprecation. “I was so…”

“You were exactly what you were taught to be,” Giles said softly. “It is to your credit that you were able to see past the hypocrisy and deceit, to make up your own mind and exert your own agenda. Your loyalty was to your Slayer – as it always should have been.”

“Dawn will always be my first priority,” Lydia agreed. “As Buffy is yours.”

Giles gave her a small smile. “She’s far outgrown my guidance, I’m afraid.”

Lydia shook her head. “I think not. You’re her family, Rupert, just as much as Spike or Seth, or any of her friends.”

“You are the most extraordinary woman,” he murmured wonderingly. “I’m so glad you’re staying.”

She reached out and squeezed his hand. “So am I.”

-x-

Dawn glanced up from sharpening her sword when the training room door opened.

Angel. Great. Perfect. Just what she needed.

Although she’d come to terms with her feelings for the vampire - and the underlying crush persisted despite her desire for it not to - he still wasn’t someone she wanted see right at that moment.

“Hey,” he greeted softly.

“Yeah, hey.” She ducked her head, ostensibly returning to the task at hand, but really taking the opportunity to hide behind the curtain of hair that fell forward. She recoiled in shock when it was brushed back, and blinked up into those deep, dark eyes.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” Angel told her, tucking the strands behind her ear.

She rolled her eyes. “Like that makes a difference.”

“I realize that it doesn’t, but…for what it’s worth.”

“Yeah. Whatever. Thanks, I guess.”

The vampire stared at her for a long time, to the point of making her uncomfortable. She squirmed under his scrutiny.

“What?”

“I, uh, I’m leaving for LA in a couple of hours. I just wanted to…”

“Say goodbye. Yeah, I get it.” Dawn gave him an airy little wave. “See ya.”

He sighed. “Dawn…”

“Again, what? What is your problem? I get it, alright? I don’t need you coming in here, trying to be my friend, and giving me the big let’s-keep-in-touch speech, when I’m not actually going to see you anymore.”

“Says who?” he asked. “I get all kinds of cases that need consultation. So does Buffy. We liaise a lot.”

“Sounds kinky.”

Angel actually cracked a grin at that. “It’s not. What I’m proposing here is…I want you to act as my liaison. I mean, it won’t be full-time, so it shouldn’t interfere with your schoolwork too much, and you could travel back and forth between here and my agency, and even with the Hellmouth closed there’s a lot of slaying that still needs to be done, with plenty of opportunity for…”

Dawn watched him talk, really taking the time to see him as he truly was. It was inspiring. Angel had made mistakes, it was true, but his past didn’t matter. Not anymore. What mattered was the here and now. And, after everything he had said to her before about not being worthy, now he was here asking her to take Faith’s place.

Other than that initial cursory glance at the file, she hadn’t really been interested in the other Slayer’s life, and she was ashamed of how dismissive she’d been. He’d been right to be so angry and disappointed. She hoped she was above that kind of selfishness now. Slaying was her calling, her destiny. She knew what she had to do.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t breathe, you can do a mean run-on sentence.”

He latched onto her positive tone eagerly. “Does this mean you’re going to say yes?”

“Maybe.” Dawn smiled. “Besides, I really want to meet this mysterious Cordelia of yours. She’s gotta be something special if you chose her over the nubile young Slayer hotness that is me.”

It took him a second to realize she was teasing. “Yeah,” he deadpanned. “That was tough.”

She nodded. “Hardest decision of your life.”

“Absolutely.”

They grinned at each other, finally at peace with who they were and where their lives were heading. It was time to move forward.

-x-

Seth popped his head out the door, checked in both directions, and then ducked back inside the room. “’S all clear,” he said in a hushed undertone. “Spike’s downstairs.”

He hustled out along the hallway, every inch of his tiny body radiating supernatural stealth.

Buck followed on his heels, shuffling his feet, one thumb firmly positioned in his mouth and a plastic dinosaur hanging by its elongated neck from his other hand. “Where w’goin’?” he mumbled around the digit.

“Shhh,” Seth hissed. “We’s huntin’, alright?”

Buck stared placidly into his friend’s burning golden eyes, then shrugged. “’Kay.”

Seth focused on the doorway to the guest bedroom – the former haven of Buffy’s teenage years – and a little frown of concentration formed between his brows. The air around him began to crackle with energy. He made a little stop-start motion, rocking on the balls of his feet and pushing the air with his hands as though making an abortive attempt at an attack, and the crackling energy carried on the forward momentum without him. The door flew open, hinges buckling under the onslaught and the wood splintering.

Buck blinked. “Dat’s broke,” he said.

Seth contemplated the mess. He’d just wanted to show Butt his cool new power and now he was gonna be in trouble again, maybe even grounded. He heard his father moving downstairs seconds before his voice echoed up the staircase.

“Nip!”

“Hide,” he whispered, and they both made a run for it.

-x-

Buffy came into the house and collapsed onto the sofa, wearily tossing her purse onto the coffee table. “Man, Anya just pops them out and gets right back to business, doesn’t she?”

Spike looked up from the book he was reading. He was acting as calm and casual as possible, not of a mind to raise a ruckus about the Nip’s latest shenanigans just yet. That would come later. “She’s doin’ alright?”

“Better than Xander.” She pointed a finger at him. “He said he still owes you for the gaping head wound, by the way. Revenge, apparently, will be sweet.”

Spike shrugged. The day the whelp got the better of him was the day he deserved the getting. “So, they decide on a name yet? Done naught but quarrel about it, the two of them.”

“Well, since she wasn’t a boy and they couldn’t use the one name they had agreed on - ‘Cash’, if you’re wondering - Anya was all for calling her ‘Capital’.” When Spike’s brows shot up, she nodded. “Scary, I know, but I kid you not.”

He closed the book and peered at her cautiously, taking in the beloved features one by one; twinkling green eyes, pursed lips. Not kidding, his skinny white bum. There was no way she was telling the whole story here. “Uh huh. Well, here’s hoping the whelp put his foot down on that one.”

“They…” Buffy pressed her lips together harder, losing the struggle to keep a straight face. A little hiccup escaped before she spoke again. “…Compromised.”

“On?”

A pause, and then she tossed out the punch-line to her little private joke. “Free Enterprise.”

Spike’s expression said it all and Buffy exploded into laughter.

The vampire shook his head, outraged. “Free Harris?” he burst out. “Are they completely daft? She sounds like a bloody political campaign!”

By this point, Buffy couldn’t even speak. She howled and doubled over onto the arm of the sofa, one hand slapping the cushion at her side, tears coursing down her cheeks.

“Oh, man, I so had you!” she hiccupped, wiping her cheeks. “No, thankfully they followed the logical train and progressed from ‘Free’ to ‘Liberty’ and that’s what stuck. Xan’s been calling her ‘Libby’.” She sniffed and then began giggling to herself again. “‘Free Enterprise’.”

Spike watched her, his own face breaking into a grin as her merriment bubbled up inside him. God, she was beautiful when she laughed. He felt himself falling in love all over again, getting that good deep-down kind of tingle. Felt himself getting…well, a bit nauseous actually. He frowned. That was odd. He had the constitution of an ox, hadn’t been sick since…since… Oh, bollocks.

He blanched. “Uh, pet?”

Buffy sniffed again and wiped at her cheeks. “What?”

“Got somethin’ else you want to tell me?”

She just looked at him with her heart in her eyes and gave him a serene Mona Lisa smile. “Oh, I think you can figure it out.”

“Other things may change us, but we start and end with the family.”
- Anthony Brandt

THE END

Equinox (11/?), PG by Canton Heroine (AU)

2007-07-28T07:00:33Z

Just a side note...

2007-07-13T10:59:08Z

Sorry to spam up my flist, but I just had to get this off my chest.

I was checking out my Deviant Art account, and in the comment column of my homepage, someone had written of my likes/dislikes that they found it "curious" that I listen to My Chemical Romance and other bands of their ilk at the apparently advanced age of 35. Apparently she found that very "hopeful".

I actually felt old. First time ever. Normally I don't really notice. Yes, I'm 35, but I'm also only 5 foot tall and dress like a skate punk. I don't look or act my age in the slightest. Most people don't believe me when I tell them that beneath the cool blonde streaks in my hair are some less cool naturally grey ones.

I explained to this person - aged just 15 - that 'Emo' is not just some newfangled thing for kids, and that I've actually been listening to music of this nature for a very long time. I also pointed out that I'm closer in age, and therefore life circumstance, to Gerard Way than any teenager would be. If anything, their music means more to me because I know exactly where they're coming from. Not to mention that it's the only decent music on the airwaves these days.

*sigh* Okay, I'm ranted out now. I'm going off to turn my stereo up to 11...

Returning to the Scene

2007-07-13T08:00:32Z

Just trying to re-heat the muse.
I've been working on this little Dawson's Creek fic for a while, and decided to just go ahead and post so I can stop fiddling with it.

Summary: A little bit of perspective goes a long, long way.
Timeline: Post series finale, though basic knowledge of Season One will help with the context.
Disclaimer: Any spare Paceys found lying around are fair game as far as I’m concerned…
Author’s Note: This is the first Dawson’s Creek fan-fiction I’ve attempted in years, and the first one I’ve ever had the courage to post anywhere.

Tamara Jacobs stepped out of her hire car and looked around the bay, one hand shielding her eyes against the sun’s glare.

On the surface it was the same. There were a few cosmetic changes here and there - fresh paintwork on shopfronts, some new signage - but it was essentially the same picture perfect little town, with its clear skies and tranquil waters.

And it’s dirty little secrets.

Capeside, Massachusetts: the home of her greatest crime, and her greatest regret.

The Boy.

The way she’d used him back then was so wrong, she knew that now. She had known it then. She was, for all intents and purposes, a smart woman - rational…relatively sane - but from the moment she’d first met him, she hadn’t been able to resist. She’d been compelled to involve herself in spite of the risks because the Boy had been so compelling.

She’d been drawn in at first by his charm, his sly wit and humour, his stubborn persistence. Most especially, she’d been intrigued by the raw sexuality he exuded, the pure animal magnetism. The Boy held all the charisma of a Hollywood leading man, one of those old-school pin-up movie-star sex-symbols, and yet, astonishingly, the young girls of the town seemed wholly oblivious to it, were unaware of the untapped potential in their midst.

It was only later that she became aware of his sharp insightful mind, his tender heart, and the lurking sadness in his stunning ocean-coloured eyes. By then she was hooked.

He was perfect; the stuff that fantasies were made of. Everything she’d always wanted in a man, but had never been able to find. Everything her ex-husband wasn’t.

Greedy, she’d seen him, wanted him and taken him. And in response he’d taken something from her. Something she’d never gotten back. A large piece of her own heart had been left behind - with him. She was here to find out if he’d be willing to return it so that she could finally begin to move forward.

“So this is the place, huh?”

Tamara turned to regard her younger sister’s sceptical countenance. “Yes,” she replied wistfully. “This is the place.”

Melissa snorted and pushed her sunglasses back off her forehead. “So, has it got anywhere decent to eat?”

+++

The Icehouse had been rebuilt at some stage. She recalled it being somewhat of a smaller establishment, and much less up-market. Mel barged on through the door without a second glance, but Tamara found herself slowing to a stunned stop. Right there, etched onto the glass was the name she’d been half-dreading to see.

‘Proprietor: Pacey J. Witter’.

Pacey owned a restaurant?

Mel had gotten sidetracked from her hunger long enough to notice that her sister was no longer behind her. She came back out. “What’s wrong?”

Tamara shook her head. Her mouth opened and then closed again. She resorted to pointing.

Mel rolled her eyes. “What are you, five?” She read the sign. “Oh.” Pursing her lips in thought for a moment, she grabbed Tamara’s arm and began to drag her in the opposite direction. “We’ll go somewhere else.”

“No!” The word was out before she was conscious of it forming. “This is why I came. I have to…”

“Yeah.” Mel sighed. “Yeah, you need some serious closure on this. I am well aware.”

They both peered tentatively back through the glass like they were looking into a fishbowl full of piranhas.

“Hey, can I help you?”

Tamara nearly jumped out of her skin, her head snapping around sharply. A busboy was eyeing them like they were planning to rob the place. He was wearing khaki chinos and a loud Hawaiian shirt, and the familiarity of the outfit almost brought tears to her eyes.

“We’re not real busy today if that’s what you’re wondering,” he continued. “There are always plenty of seats inside when Mr. Witter’s got the day off.” He grinned, flashing an attractive set of dimples. “Sometimes I think the customers don’t even care about the food and only come to see him. Most of the female customers, at least.”

Tamara swallowed. God, if the rest of the world had finally realized the extent of his charm then no one was safe, her least of all. She’d already proven her own susceptibility.

“Mr. Witter isn’t here, you said?” Mel asked. Tamara wanted to hit her.

“Nah. Sorry. There’s some kind of family thing going on over at the Potter B & B. Were you looking for him?”

Tamara nodded absently in reply, but her mind was racing.

A family thing. That was interesting. And why was the Potter name so familiar to her?

“I hope you don’t think I’m rude for asking this…Corey,” Mel continued, reading the name from the tag on his lapel. “But why isn’t he having his family thing here?” She smiled teasingly. “Is the service not good enough?”

Corey laughed. “Oh, no, the Icehouse is one of the most successful restaurants on the Cape,” he informed them, before holding up a hand in clarification. “I know, I know, the boss would skin me alive if I said otherwise, right? Except that it’s no lie, I swear. He’s got plans to open a second place in New York next year.” He beamed proudly. “It’s a pretty big deal.” He pushed open the door again, preparing to enter. “You sure you don’t wanna come in? I promise you won’t regret it.”

“Alright, Corey, you’ve twisted my arm,” Mel said. “Lead the way.”

Tamara had no choice but to follow.

+++

Young Corey was indeed correct, and the meal was delicious. Tamara was impressed. She and Mel were relaxing with a fine selection of wine when a cheer came from outside. They glanced at each other and then out the window.

Tamara gasped, the glass almost falling from her suddenly nerveless fingers. “Oh. God.”

“Holy mother of...” Mel instinctively rose from her seat, craning her neck to get a better view. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.”

Pacey Witter was strolling along the boardwalk.

No, on second thought, that wasn’t entirely accurate. He was strutting.

He was dressed casually in flip-flops, blue jeans and a white T-shirt; no differently from any of the tourists passing him by, and yet somehow completely set apart. He was even taller than Tamara remembered and built like a professional swimmer; long-legged and narrow-hipped, his shoulders had broadened to the point of stretching out the cotton, and his arms were tanned and toned. His hair was longer too, the sea breeze blowing thick dark curls onto his forehead, and the scruffy little goatee beard on his chin only managed to emphasize the stubborn line of his jaw.

The difference was incredible.

As a boy, he’d been cute and cocky. But as a man, he was striking - the very embodiment of trim, taut and terrific. And he exuded confidence. There was no doubting that here was a person very much a peace with his place in the world.

Tamara wished desperately to see his eyes, but they were hidden behind a pair of designer sunglasses.

He stopped to chat to a young family, continuing to wave and call greetings to several other acquaintances in the meantime, smiling that rogue’s smile of his all the while. An older man came over to shake his hand, yet another clapped him on the back. He was the star attraction out there.

Mel dragged herself away and slumped back into her seat. She blinked at her sister, stunned.

“Whew…” she breathed, using a hand to fan her face. “You really weren’t exaggerating. He’s like a - a force of nature or something. I mean, you tried to tell me…you said how sexy he was, but…Sweet Jesus.” She took a hearty swig of her merlot.

Tamara nodded, a smug smile playing about her lips. “I told you so.”

Mel snickered. “Okay, I deserved that.”

“You could see it even when he was fifteen, you know,” Tamara mused. “All that heat just simmering away. The thing is, Mel, it’s not his looks that catch you. He is gorgeous, I can’t deny that, but no more so a lot of other men. Given just a photo of him, most women wouldn’t bother to look twice. There’s just something about him in person, this…aura, this passionate intensity. You can’t manufacture that.” She sighed. “And when he turns those baby blues on you up close, then it’s all over.”

“That good, huh?”

“Better.”

Mel shook her head. “I give up.”

“What?”

“You are a lost cause. You do realize you’ve put this guy on some sort of pedestal, don’t you? No wonder you can’t move on.”

As they watched his progress toward the front door of the restaurant, Tamara’s heart was beating so loudly in anticipation, she was sure it was audible to anyone who cared to hear it. Mel reached over to top up her glass, and Tamara nodded her thanks. She needed all the Dutch courage she could get.

“Open bar!” Pacey declared with great exuberance as he crossed the threshold, and several staff members immediately scattered to do his bidding. He yanked off his shades and tucked them into the neck of his tee, then clapped his hands together. “Okay! For those of you playing the home game, the reason for my unprecedented generosity is that congratulations are in order. You, my loyal customers, are looking at a brand new father to be!”

Tamara’s nervous system shut down. At least, that’s what it felt like. Amidst all the ensuing shouts and well wishes, all she could hear was a dull roar in her ears.

“Tam?” Mel was leaning over the table, concern etched on her features. “Are you okay?”

Tamara gulped down a mouthful of wine, and then glanced back at Pacey. She didn’t know why she hadn’t anticipated just such a development, why she’d simply assumed he’d be unattached. It wasn’t as though he was abhorrent to the opposite sex - all evidence to the contrary in fact. More than likely, she hadn’t wanted to know, hadn’t wanted to consider the ramifications of him actually having someone in his life, someone who wasn’t her. Even now, with this recent revelation fresh in her mind, she couldn’t look away, couldn’t not want him. “I don’t know.”

Pacey chose that moment to scan his clientele, counting heads and seeking out familiar faces. His eyes met hers and widened in shock, his smile evaporating.

Startled by the connection, Tamara looked away.

She’d often thought that perhaps her decade-old memories had exaggerated the impact of that bright blue gaze, but was finding instead that they had been woefully inadequate. She felt naked, exposed, emotionally stripped bare.

She began searching frantically for an escape. She wanted to run. She wasn’t prepared for this, not in the slightest. Why had she come back? What the hell had she been thinking?

“Tammy?”

Oh, and that hurt - his voice saying her name in that sweet, husky tone, like he used to do when they were lovers. It was deeper now, but it still had the same effect. Her eyes closed and she shivered.

And he was coming closer…

“Tammy?”

Realizing that Tamara needed a moment to compose herself, Mel stood up to intercept him. “Hi,” she said brightly. “I’m Melissa Bartlett. Tamara’s sister. I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

Pacey glanced down, his eyes skimming over her in a quick, hot flash. “Nice to meet you,” he said distractedly, then looked back over her head and waited.

“Hello, Pacey.” She finally managed a small smile.

He stepped around Mel, who collapsed into her seat like a wilted flower, and pulled Tamara up for a hug, wrapping her in his warm embrace. “Hi! It’s been a long time. How are you?”

“I’m good.” Tamara carefully extricated herself, unable to bear the contact. He felt so solid and real, and smelled wonderful; a heady mix of the fresh ocean air, exotic spices, and something that was just plain male. “Though not as well as you, apparently.”

He chuckled, raking his left hand through that unruly hair. A platinum band gleamed on his ring finger, a complement to the silver bracelet at his wrist. “Yeah. Things are going great right now. And you heard the announcement, right?”

“I did.” Tamara sank back down onto her chair, uncertain as to whether her knees would continue to hold her up. Her teeth were clenched together in a gruesome semblance of a smile so tight it made her cheeks ache. “Congratulations!”

No, Tam, that didn’t sound insincere in the least…

Pacey grabbed a chair from a neighbouring table, spun it around and straddled it, leaning his arms against the back. It seemed he was settling in for a good long chat. He tilted his head and gave Mel a long appraising look, one dark brow arching. The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement when she let out a little whimper.

“So, Pacey,” Tamara blurted, drawing that all-seeing gaze back to her. “Fill me in on the last ten years.”

Her eyes devoured his face, noting the subtle changes that time had wrought. His cheeks were leaner, his jaw line stronger, but he still had those soft, supple lips and the thin grooved scar on his cheek that always made her want to taste it. This close, she could see each and every one of his sinfully long lashes and the unusual gold flecks in the centre of his irises that sometimes made them appear green.

“Well, let’s see…” Pacey began ticking off on his fingers. “School. Joey. No Joey. Caribbean. Boston. Cook. Rogue trader. Broke. Restaurant. Joey.”

Tamara blinked at the pinky finger he was waving in front of her face. “There seems to be a recurring theme there.”

He grinned. “Yeah, well, after y--” He broke off and shot a quick glance at Mel, before throwing caution to the wind. “After you, and then Andie, who you kind of met once I think, I committed the mortal offence of falling in love with my best friend’s girl. An event which knocked Capeside on its proverbial ass and caused this great big roiling mess that took us years to sort out.” The grin widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Eventually Jo agreed to let me make an honest woman of her, and here we reside in the kind of sickening connubial bliss usual reserved for reruns of The Brady Bunch.”

The mention of his best friend gave her the elusive connection she’d been looking for. She vaguely remembered Joey Potter now. A lanky tomboy, who was both smart and opinionated, and spent most of her time as a virtual appendage to Dawson Leery. Pacey had married this girl?

“I can only imagine,” she murmured.

“Yeah.” Pacey waved Busboy Corey over in their direction. “Hey, Cor, bring us another bottle of the merlot, okay?” He shot Tamara a wink. “On me.”

“Why, thank you, Pacey.”

He nodded, hands tapping a rhythm against the chair-back. “Not a problem. I’m feeling beyond generous today.”

“Yes. Parenthood at twenty-five. You’re still so young. Are you prepared for that?”

“Oh, hell no.”

“Really?”

“Who ever is?” Pacey shrugged, and then suddenly turned on her sister. “So, Melissa, right? Is this trip for business or for pleasure?”

Mel froze, caught with her wineglass halfway to her mouth, buckling under the full force of that penetrating stare. “Uh…”

Before she could answer, Pacey straightened in his seat, muscles drawing bowstring taut, nostrils flaring. A tremor shook his body, almost as if he’d caught a chill, and then he slowly rose and turned back toward the boardwalk. He took a few steps in that direction, brows furrowed in concentration, eyes scanning the crowd.

“Just a sec,” he murmured, moving even further away as he spoke. “I’ll be right back.”

Tamara watched in curious awe. He’s like a wild animal, she thought. Like a big cat scenting something in the wind. She wondered what had snared his attention.

Corey came over with their wine. He was smiling indulgently at Pacey’s retreating form. “Sorry about that. My girlfriend says it’s romantic, but it’s really kind of spooky how he always knows.”

“Knows what?”

“Whenever she’s around.” Corey tipped his chin, indicating that they should look out the window. “See there? Mrs. Witter at 2 o’clock.”

Tamara caught a glimpse of a willowy brunette mere seconds before the other woman was gathered up in Pacey’s embrace and spun around in enthusiastic circles. They could hear his low laughter under her protesting squeals.

Tamara stared, amazed that he’d gotten back outside so fast.

“Disgusting,” Mel grumbled, although there was more than a trace of envy in her voice.

“Most definitely,” Corey agreed. “Though, I have seen them do worse.” He raised his brows. “Anything else I can get you?”

“No, thank you.” Tamara turned to him just as he began to walk away. “Corey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How long have they been together?”

That was a more personal question than he’d been expecting, the internal debate on the merits of answering it evident on his young face. Gossiping about the boss could get him into trouble. Making a spur-of-the-moment decision, he said, “This time around? About four months.”

“Four…?” There had to be more to it than that. No one in their right mind got married that fast. “That’s all?”

“Yeah. It was a whole whirlwind type deal. No one expected it, especially right after the funeral and everything.”

“Funeral?” Mel prompted.

“Yeah, for a friend of theirs. Um…Jen Lindley, I think her name was? They all went to high school together. She had some kind of heart problem or something. Anyway, they hooked up about then and they’ve pretty much been inseparable ever since.”

Tamara didn’t recognize the name, but then most of her students were fairly unmemorable. None of them haunted her like Pacey did. She was so busy wallowing that she missed some of the ensuing conversation as Corey warmed to his topic and continued reporting their recent history to his captivated audience, ostensibly clearing the table as he spoke.

“…this unbelievable chemistry, you know? And when they argue, it goes right off the charts.”

“You’re kidding?”

Tamara could understand Melissa’s scepticism, but Pacey had always been passionate and he had quite an impressive temper when he was riled, his wife undoubtedly did as well. She’d have to.

Corey quickly backed that theory up.

“No, it’s really something else. You’d figure it’d be all sunshine and roses after reuniting like they did, right? But their fights are…” He made an expansive gesture, as though words alone couldn’t describe the phenomenon. “Ever seen that old show from the 80’s, ‘Moonlighting’? It’s kind of like that, only with snappier dialogue. Like, after the first month or so, they had a real doozy down at the Marina, right on the Kitten’s foredeck. It was during Regatta, in full view of most of the town…”

“The Kitten?”

“Boss’s yacht - the Skittish Kitten.” Corey waved a handful of silverware distractedly, before depositing it on his tray. “There was some problem with her job, and they were trying to decide what to do about it. I don’t know exactly what it was that he said to her, but Joey ended up shoving him overboard. I mean, she really let him have it. Made the local paper and everything. But then, the next day, she rang her office in New York and quit,” he snapped his fingers, “Just like that. I don’t know all the details, but she does some kind of freelance thing now, travelling back and forth.”

Mel nodded, entranced by the story. She was really starting to get caught up in the Byzantine machinations of this town. Tamara’s own plotline notwithstanding, this was better than some of the soaps on television. “That was quite a big sacrifice for her to make.”

Corey shrugged. “She seems cool with it.”

Tamara filtered them out, concentrating instead on the little reunion taking place outside. If one could even call it that. As far as she could surmise, they’d only been separated for ten minutes or so, probably even less.

Pacey was talking animatedly, large hands tracing random shapes in the air, and his wife was smiling at him - a tolerant smile, the kind that was usually reserved for parents to use when their children misbehaved in public.

From afar, Tamara had to concede that Joey really was an exceptionally lovely woman, with cascading brown hair, dark doe eyes and model-slim body. Her height, rather that being impedimental, was an ideal match for her husband’s.

As if proving that observation, Pacey suddenly stepped closer until he was toe-to-toe with her.

Everything stilled. Time slowed to a crawl as those waving hands settled on either side of her face. He dipped his head and slowly drew the tip of his nose along the length of hers in a gentle Eskimo caress; they took a moment to breathe each other in, lips hovering only millimetres apart, before finally sharing an achingly tender kiss, effectively shutting out the world around them.

It was somehow more intimate than if they were making love right out there in the open. Feeling like the interloper she was, Tamara reluctantly tuned back in to Corey and Mel’s ongoing gossip-fest. She couldn’t watch anymore without wanting to cry.

“…So when Mr. McPhee told us they were voted Class Couple back in 2001, we were all like, yeah right,” Corey related, “But then he showed us the yearbook, and there they were. I think there’s a copy floating around behind the bar somewhere if you want to take a look. We drag it out for special occasions.”

“And Mr. McPhee is…?”

“My English teacher. I guess you could call him Mr. Witter’s brother-in-law. Sort of.” He paused and then snickered. “Brother in law. Heh. That’s funny.”

Mel looked confused. “Why is that funny?”

Corey waved her off. “Oh, Mr. McPhee’s gay. He lives with Mr. Witter’s brother, the sheriff.”

“Doug is really gay?” Tamara blurted, genuinely shocked by the news. Pacey used to say it all the time, but Doug had been so emphatic in his denial. That whole incident with the gun…

“You know Sheriff Witter?”

“I used to live here,” Tamara explained. “I was actually Pacey’s English teacher a long time ago.”

“Oh hey, that’s…a weird coincidence.”

Corey glanced up over at the bar. His eyes fell on the framed poster for ‘The Creek’ there and almost bugged out of his head when a certain controversial storyline came to mind. They’d given the boss such a hard time about it, but if the show was as true to real life as it was purported to be…

He swung back and gave them a nervous smile. “Look, I’ve got to get back to work before Mr. Witter comes back in, so… Um, it’s been nice talking to you. Bye.”

Tamara watched him scurry away, and then turned back to meet Melissa’s shrewd brown eyes.

“You’re regretting this trip now, aren’t you?” Mel asked. “Coming to your senses?”

“Yes and no.”

“You need to give it up, Tam. There’s no room for you in this little fairytale he’s living.”

“I think you’re right insofar as that I needed to see for myself that he’d moved on. In my head, he’s still that fifteen year old boy, but seeing him like this is…”

“Stimulating?”

Tamara snorted with laughter. “Well, there is that.”

Pacey swaggered back through the door, towing his wife along behind him, one hand cuffed around her slim wrist. She stumbled a little, digging in her heels.

“Pacey! It’s your day off! We’re supposed to be…”

“Celebrating our good news?”

“Yes!” she confirmed, eyes sparkling mischievously despite her serious tone. “The more intimate details of which are better performed in private.”

He stopped when they got to the bar and suddenly twirled her so that she was standing with her back to his chest, his arms tight around her middle. It was the sort of elaborate manoeuvre that was made to look simple from continued practice, almost like a choreographed dance move. He tucked his chin into her shoulder and murmured something into her ear that made her duck her head, blushing. An instant later she bumped him with her hip, though not hard enough to dislodge him from his cosy position.

“Only in your very perverted dreams, Witter."

“Oh, I see. So I was actually dreaming that spectacular performance last night?” He paused. “And this morning.”

“Wow. Yet more delusional ranting. You obviously need professional help.”

“Witnesses!” Pacey slapped a hand on the bar. “I want this on the record. Hey, Jim-boy, you heard that, right? She just gave me permission to hire a professional.”

Jim, the bar manager, shook his head at them, bemused. Several other patrons laughed outright.

Joey scowled. “Cretin.”

“Prude.”

“Jailbait.”

That one was apparently an inside joke because they both laughed.

Pacey glanced over at Tamara’s table with heavy-lidded eyes. Beneath the lingering humour in their depths, there was a flame smouldering that hadn’t been present earlier, something that heated the blue from the inside out. She’d never considered Pacey particularly beautiful before, it wasn’t an adjective that came readily to mind, but right at that moment there was no other way to describe him.

His love for Joey made him beautiful.

The realization was bittersweet, bringing a stinging sensation to her eyes and a lump to her throat. She wondered if it wasn’t her heart that was jammed in there. It hadn’t been left in Pacey’s keeping after all. He didn’t need to return it - he’d never had it, never really wanted it. Instead, it had been frozen by her blind refusal to accept reality, held securely in stasis while she wasted a decade daydreaming on what could have been. She felt like she’d finally woken up, and the resulting thaw hurt all the more from such an overlong hibernation.

She’d used Pacey as an excuse, but she’d let life pass her by and it was nobody’s fault but her own.

Something must have shown on her face, because he quirked an inquisitive brow at her, the barest hint of a frown forming. The concern seemed somewhat impersonal now, though. He was simply an attentive host worrying over a finicky guest. She’d become invisible to him, irrelevant, her presence merely that of a fond memory.

Tamara shook her head and gave a little wave, sending him on his way.
She knew that he wasn’t coming back to her table.

He wasn’t coming back to her at all.

THE END

Browncoats in Space

2007-06-29T07:53:10Z

Anyone else been keeping track of this site?
BREAKING ATMO

Check out the pics in the latest post - http://www.breakingatmo.com/status/2007/06/gotta-have-records-of-everything

Firefly & Serenity in the ISS! How cool is that, huh?
Browncoats Rule - Dirtside and in the Black...

Well, it's official...

2007-06-25T04:09:36Z

Your Score: Freak- INFJ

6% Extraversion, 53% Intuition, 40% Thinking, 80% Judging

Well, well, well. How did someone like you end up with the least common personality type of them all? In a group of 100 Americans, only 0.5 others would be just like you. You really are one of a kind... In fact, I do believe that that's one of the definitions for the word "FREAK."

Freak's not such a bad word to describe you actually.

You are deep, complex, secretive and extremely difficult to understand. If that doesn't scream "Freak!" I don't know what does. No-one actually knows the REAL you, do they?

You probably have deep interests in creative expression as well as issues of spirituality and human development.

You've probably even been called a "psychic" before, because of your uncanny knack to understand and "read" people without quite knowing how you do it. Don't fret. You're not actually psychic. That would make you special and you'll never accomplish that.

You're also quite possible the most emotional of them all, so don't take this all too hard. Nevertheless you most definitely have the strangest personality type and that's not necessarily a good thing.

*****************

If you want to learn more about your personality type in a slightly less negative way, check out this.

*****************

The other personality types are as follows...

Loner - Introverted Sensing Feeling Perceiving
Pushover - Introverted Sensing Feeling Judging
Criminal - Introverted Sensing Thinking Perceiving
Borefest - Introverted Sensing Thinking Judging
Almost Perfect - Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving
Loser - Introverted iNtuitive Thinking Perceiving
Crackpot - Introverted iNtuitive Thinking Judging
Clown - Extraverted Sensing Feeling Perceiving
Sap - Extraverted Sensing Feeling Judging
Commander - Extraverted Sensing Thinking Perceiving
Do Gooder - Extraverted Sensing Thinking Judging
Scumbag - Extraverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving
Busybody - Extraverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging
Prick - Extraverted iNtuitive Thinking Perceiving
Dictator - Extraverted iNtuitive Thinking Judging

Link: The Brutally Honest Personality Test written by UltimateMaster on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Oh, and I'm not dead or lying in a gutter somewhere, by the way. Life's been getting me down quite a lot recently, so I've been avoiding it altogether. I'm hoping that will get better soon. *crosses fingers*

Winners Are Grinners

2007-04-14T12:10:58Z

I don't know who votes in these things, but I love them so much right now. :D

My Top Ten

2007-04-08T11:42:18Z

I've seen this 10 favourite celebrity crushes meme doing the rounds so I thought I'd put up my contribution.

(I have to add here that most of my crushes are on characters they've played, rather than the actors themselves. I'm not so much into the reality side of things...)

10. Johnny Depp
It's uncanny how the man just gets better with age. Plus, Jack Sparrow, William Blake, Edward Scissorhands... The list of awesomeness goes on and on.

9. Harrison Ford
Han Solo was my first ever crush. I remember having posters of him on my wall when I was about 8 years old.

8. Viggo Mortensen
Aragorn. Once of the most sigh-worthy heroes of all time.

7. David Duchovny
I am such a huge, huge X-Phile. Agent Mulder. *drools*

6. Adam Baldwin
Those wonderful little touches he contributed to the character of Jayne made all the difference. Plus, he's so very pretty.

5. Ewan McGregor
It's all about the twinkle in his eyes.

4. Scott Bairstow
Newt Call from Lonesome Dove: The Outlaw Years.

3. Joshua Jackson
I just got Dawson's Creek on DVD, so I'm on a mad Pacey fix at the moment. His falling for Joey in Season Three puts him up there with the top romantic leads in history. Plus I totally love how he steals every scene.

2. Gerard Way
Genius. He draws, writes, sings, and has those amazing, amazing green eyes.

1. James Marsters
Spike. Need I say more?

Everyone's a winner, baby...

2007-04-05T03:54:52Z

I'm literally bouncing as I type this.

I just found out that I won two awards over at the Spark and Burn Awards for my Buffy and Spike story, "In A Different Light". The most exciting part is that the Best Crossover one was alongside eurydice72, who is like the best Spuffy writer EVER!!! Seriously, she's a published novelist and everything.

Aren't they pretty?

I'm BAAACK!!!!

2007-03-15T02:48:20Z

Yep. I'm back. Mostly.

The reunion went well. I got caught up with a bunch of people, reminisced a whole lot, deftly avoided questions about my marital and parental status, laughed, sang, and got... well, really drunk. All in all, it was a fun weekend that I'm still recovering from. I don't usually imbibe of the alcoholic beverages, and I'm not used to it at all. The dehydration and jitters have definitely reminded me why it's a bad idea to over-indulge. :)

As promised, I've put up a couple of pictures of me at and after the reunion.
*looks innocent* Surprisingly a lot of the shots didn't turn out. I wonder why...

Me in the middle, with my pals Lena (on the left) and Mauz (on the right)

Me the day after - note the extremely washed out complexion!

Off for a weekend of hijinks...

2007-03-09T05:49:36Z

Well, it's time for me to be heading off for my high school reunion. Which will be exciting if only for the fact that I'll get to hang with my friend Mauz, who I haven't seen for a couple of years. We've placed bets on how fast we'll get asked the inevitable "Are you married, do you have kids" questions. (We're both single, and quite happy to remain that way). At least those'll be better than the "So, what are you doing now?" questions, to which the answer would be "Nothing."

Yeah, none of my job prospects have panned out so far. NONE! I'm trying not to let it discourage me, but it's hard.

Anyway, I may have piccies to share when I get back, so those of you who don't know what I look like could have the chance to find out. Unless I forget to charge my camera...*grin*

I'm leaving you all with yet another new-look journal. This one's based around some of my actual artwork - a digital photo of one of my Spike paintings. Yes, I did paint that. It's good isn't it? *congratulates self* ;)

Some Stuff

2007-02-24T02:37:32Z

I was inspired by guinny_hamilton's comment for bookaddict43's new chapter of Corresponding Notes, and so I made this:

While I'm at it, I'm putting up a selection of my recent entries into jaylee_icontest

001

002

003

004

005

006

007

008

009

010

011

012

Bigger Banner

2007-02-17T02:17:44Z

The full-sized banner I made for the bookaddict43 and ceslas fic "Unexpected" is here .

For some reason, the one I sent shrunk.

Also, I've re-vamped my journal again. It's got a "Jayne's Birthday" theme now. I like it alot.

Pressure cooker much?

2007-02-14T02:47:35Z

I'm not dead! Just so you all know...
So what have I been doing then? More information under the cut.

The interview I told you all about was delayed for a week, and then when it finally happened, I got shortlisted which will mean a second interview within the next couple of weeks (the employer is currently on vacation - lucky him). Now, on top of that I've got another interview for a whole other job this coming Friday. UGH! I hate my life right now. I really, truly hate my life.

I've been keeping myself distracted with some artwork, which I just posted over at Deviant Art: http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/48735276/
If you like My Chemical Romance, then you'll probably like it. If not - well, then this never meant nothing to ya.

*sighs*

Under Pressure

2007-01-30T10:26:42Z

Okay, so firstly, it seems I won some more awards from jaylee_icontest:

*gazes* Aren't they pretty?

Secondly, I don't know if I'm going to make the deadline for this weeks contest (even though I seem to have inspired it - thanx danniisupernova). Real life issues have taken priority over all else at the moment, hence my lack of recent visitage to LJ - sorry if I've missed commenting on fics and replying to e-mails lately guys, I will eventually catch up with you all.

The main distraction is that I have an interview coming up this Friday for a Graphic Artist position - designing signs and stuff. I'm beyond stressed about it - getting to the point of terrified in fact. I've never had to do a job interview in my life before. Ever. I lived in a small town, and I got my previous job through a friend of the family. I really hope I don't have a panic attack during this one.

Please keep your fingers crossed for me.

That pickles meme that's going around

2007-01-29T12:58:16Z

I thought I'd put up my contribution to that meme that's currently doing the rounds.

1. Is your second toe longer than your first? Nope. Shorter. And I have freakishly small toes.

2. Do you have a favorite type of pen? Um, I prefer black ink to blue but other than that...no.

3. Look at your planner for March 14, what are you doing? Recovering probably. My high school reunion is on the weekend before.

4. What color are your toenails usually? Turquoise.

5. What was the last thing you highlighted? The TV guide. I pick out all the shows I want to watch during the week. It doesn’t usually amount to much.

6. What color are your bedroom curtains? No curtains. White blinds.

7. What color are the seats in your car? No car.

8. Have you ever had a black and white cat? No. I’m strictly a dog person.

9. What is the last thing you put a stamp on? A birthday card, I think.

10. Do you know anyone who lives in Wyoming? Um, no.

11. Why did you withdraw cash from the ATM the last time? Because that’s where all my money is.

12. Who is the last baby that you held? My nephew Einar. He’s nearly 2 now, so that was a while ago.

13. Do you know of any twins with rhyming names? No.

14. Do you like Cinnamon toothpaste? Never tried it. I like cinnamon itself, so who knows.

15. What kind of car were you driving 2 years ago? I don’t drive. Ever.

16. Pick one: Miami Hurricanes or Florida Gators: I’m opting for neither.

17. Last time you went to Six Flags: I don’t even know what that means.

18. Do you have any wallpaper in your house? Only what’s on my computer screen. At the moment – the new promo shot of Captain Jack Sparrow.

19. Closest thing to you that is yellow: Some roses from the garden in a vase on the table.

20. Last person to give you a business card? A guy I went to see about a possible job prospect.

21. Who is the last person you wrote a check to? The hotel where my reunion is being held.

22. Closest framed picture to you? A huge family montage on my living room wall.

23. Last time you had someone cook for you? We had a family dinner last Saturday. Mum was in charge of the kitchen then. Usually it’s me.

24. Have you ever applied for welfare? I’m on it right now. Stupid useless portrait business.

25. How many emails do you have? Just the one addy. I check it constantly.

26. Last time you received flowers? I got a beautiful big bouquet when I left my last job.

27. Do you think the sanctity of marriage is meant for only a man and a woman? No. I’m not big on the idea of marriage at all really, but if you wanna go for it – all power to you.

28. What kind of milk do you drink? I don’t drink it, but I use skim in my coffee.

29. Do you play air guitar? I air drum.

30. Do you take anything in your coffee? Skim milk and sugar. I think they counterbalance each other.

31. Do you have any Willow Tree figurines? No. Too cutesy for me. All my figurines are kinda gruesome. I have a really cool dead body on a morgue trolley.

32. Have you ever owned a Beanie Baby? No. Again with the cutesy.

33. Last person you spoke to from high school: My best friend, Mauz. She lives on the other side of the state, but she gonna be going to the reunion with me.

34. Last time you used hand sanitizer: Can’t really remember. Soap, yes. Sanitizer, no.

35. Would you like to learn to play the drums? Tried it once. It was exhausting. Too much like exercise.

36. What color are the blinds in your living room? White.

37. What is in your inbox at work? No work. Hence, no work inbox.

38. Last thing you read in the newspaper: Everything but the sports section. I read the whole thing every day. Sad, no?

39. What was the last pageant you attended? I can’t remember. That’s even sadder.

40. Where is the last place you bought pizza from? I haven’t eaten pizza for a long, long time.

41. Have you ever worn a crown? Maybe not a crown, I wore a tiara for fun once.

42. What is the last thing you stapled? Probably something at my old job.

43. Did you ever drink Clear Pepsi? I don’t drink any of them. Carbonated drinks are bad.

44. Are you ticklish? Sometimes.

45. Last time you saw fireworks: New Years.

46. Last time you had a Krispy Kreme doughnut: Never.

47. Who is the last person that left you a message and you actually returned their call? My mother, I think. I'm not good with phones.

48. Last time you parked under a carport: I don’t drive. Ergo, no parking.

49. Do you have a black dog? She’s a tri-colour beagle, so there’s some black on there.

50. Do you have any pickles in your fridge? Not right now. I had some over Christmas, but my Dad ate them.

51. Are you an aunt or uncle? An aunt. Several times over.

52. Who has the prettiest eyes that you know of? Gerard Way. Normally, I’m all about blue eyed men, but those lashes of his are phenomenal.

53. Last time you saw a semi truck: I live adjacent to a main highway, so today. A lot.

54. Do you remember Ugly Kid Joe? Yes. Unfortunately. I may even have one of their CDs stashed somewhere.

55. Do you have a little black dress? No. I have a couple of skirts, but I don’t do the dress thing.

Yay!

2007-01-23T03:42:16Z

Looky what I got! *bounces* Go on over to jaylee_icontest to check out all the winners (and maybe even snag a pretty new icon).

Now I've got to think about what I'm gonna enter in the next challenge...

cantonheroine @ 2007-01-21T14:11:00

2007-01-21T03:26:45Z

HOPE YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL, CAREFREE, LAZY DAY WITH LOTS OF CAKE

movie quote thingy

2007-01-15T06:36:44Z

*gigglesnort*
Yeah. Right. You'd actually have a hard time getting me out of the corner.

Nobody puts cantonheroine in a corner.

Which movie was this quote from?

Icons, Manips and Banners

2007-01-15T03:26:54Z

Woo hoo! It's a veritable cornucopia of Jaylee goodness! Icons and banners galore!

001	002	003


004	005	006


007	008	009


010	011	012

JAYLEE SPOONING

JAYNE'S GIRL

URBANIZED

URBANIZED 2

Equinox (10/?), PG by Canton Heroine (AU)

2007-01-12T13:32:06Z

e-qui•nox n. [L. æquus, equal, and nox, night.]
Either of the two occasions during a year when the sun crosses the equator, making the day and night everywhere of equal length.

TIMELINE: Set five years after True Colors. (It’s not vitally important that you’ve read the Linkverse Trilogy first, but it helps put things in context). An updated version is now available at http://www.dark-solace.org/elysian/viewuser.php?uid=44

SUMMARY: Life in the Grey household takes an unexpected turn with the arrival of a new Slayer

-10-
CONFLICT

“It was you?” Angel’s tone was tight as he clamped a stranglehold on his instinctive urge to tear the man’s head from his shoulders. “You killed Faith?”

“Well, not personally. I prefer not to get my hands dirty. I did, however, issue the orders to my Special Operations team.” Peter indicated the man on his left. “I believe Mr. Hinckley here was the man who struck the fatal blow.”

Angel snarled at Hinckley, who merely waved his crossbow at the vampire in a jaunty greeting, his doughy pockmarked face twisted in a mocking smile.

“For the love of God, Peter, why?” Lydia was more appalled at her lack of instincts concerning the man she had married than the proof of his actions. She had completely underestimated the extent of his arrogance.

“It’s all about power,” Spike surmised. “Am I right? No point having a Watcher’s Council when there’s no-one wants watching.”

“There wasn’t anyone to control,” Buffy agreed. “Not until someone new got called, someone who didn’t know how manipulative and scheming and evil you guys can be.”

As they spoke, Spike and Buffy had covertly swapped positions, so that they were guarding each other’s weak sides, Seth standing between them.

“Evil? Really?” Sherwood sneered at the blonde vampire by the Slayer’s side. “Difficult for you to throw stones given your choice of spouse.”

“My Daddy’s not evil!” Seth’s little voice piped up defiantly. “You take that back!”

Sherwood barely glanced at him, before turning those flat grey eyes back to the Slayer, a faintly disgusted sneer curling beneath his moustache. “Please, control your… child.”

Spike bristled at the inference that his son was less than human. “Right, that does it.”

He shot forward across the room in a super-fast black-clad blur. He snatched Council Thug Number Two’s crossbow away, used the butt to smash him in the face, then spun it in one hand like a gunslinger, whipped back around and pointed the arrow-tip right between Sherwood’s eyes.

Hinckley stepped in and thrust his own weapon against the side of Spike’s head. “Drop it, vampire.”

Spike snorted. “Don’t think so, mate.”

“Call off your goon, Sherwood,” Buffy’s voice was steely, and though she made no physical move to come to Spike’s defense, the threat remained. “You hurt my family in any way and you won’t be making it back to England alive.”

“Forget England,” Angel growled. “He won’t make it out of the store.” He dragged the now broken-nosed Council operative upright and held him by the throat. “None of them will.”

Peter let out an insane-sounding little giggle. “Oh, this is precious! Do you all honestly believe that I would come in here with only these two as protection? I have this entire building surrounded by my most highly trained men. Multiple teams. Go ahead and kill Mr. Fromme there, by all means. There are plenty more to take his place.”

Fromme blinked wide, panicked eyes. “Huh?”

Hinckley merely chuckled, pressing his weapon harder into the skin at Spike’s temple, drawing blood. “Reckon ‘is special powers’ll save ‘im from a bolt through the brain, Doc?”

“It would be an interesting experiment, wouldn’t it?” Peter mused. “Vampire physiology can be quite intriguing, you know.” He directed his full attention at Seth for the first time. “Quite intriguing.”

The lad scrunched his nose up at the scrutiny. “I don’ like you,” he said impudently.

“Yes, so you’ve said. Didn’t your parents tell you it’s not polite to speak your mind?”

“No.”

Buffy smiled and ran a loving hand through her son’s curls, but her eyes remained riveted on her husband. “Spike?”

The almost imperceptible tilting of his head was the only indication that he’d even heard her. Then without warning, he suddenly feinted left, kicking Hinckley’s weapon out of his hands with his right foot and knocking him backward. Hinckley inadvertently released the trigger on impact, the bolt shooting past Spike and into the hapless Operative Fromme, who was still being held by Angel.

Angel blinked at the bolt protruding from his twitching captive. “That could have hit me, you know.”

“Better luck next time, eh?” Spike sneered. He now had possession of both crossbows and tossed one to Buffy, keeping the other steady on Sherwood. “Tables have turned now, Lofty. You’re to tell your other teams to stand down, or else you’re gonna be able to sympathize kind of personally with Sir Shot-a-lot over there.” He tipped his chin at Fromme.

Hinckley had ended up sitting pretty much ignored at Sherwood’s feet; he made a move as if to stand when his ear-piece crackled to life, drawing all eyes. He lifted his eyes apologetically to Sherwood.

“Incoming,” he said. “Front door. ETA, two minutes.”

-x-

Xander stood in the middle of the sidewalk, hands on his hips, growing increasingly frustrated. “Anya, come on!” He glanced at his wristwatch. “We were supposed to be there for the car-swappy thing fifteen minutes ago.”

“I’m moving as fast as I can!” she retorted, eyes snapping. She was ten feet back along the street and treading very carefully. “You try power-walking with another human inside you attempting to squash your bladder flat.”

Xander squeezed his eyes shut. “And thank you so much for that imagery.”

“Hey, you helped put it in here; you should be more sympathetic to my discomfort.”

He walked back and took hold of her arm. “Okay, this is me making with the sympathy and support.” He gave her a wide smile. “You look beautiful today, by the way.”

Anya growled. “Don’t even start.”

Buck had been distracting himself from their bickering by looking into store windows. He noticed something in the reflection on the glass, and turned to his parents. “Hey, whys’at man gotta gun?”

-x-

Spike reached down with his free hand and grabbed Hinckley by the collar, hauling him to his feet. “What was that?”

The Council operative just glared sullenly, until his earpiece crackled again. The vampire quite clearly heard the message through the distorting static, “Got ‘em. Two human adults – one male, one female. Also, one human child, male. Guiteau and Booth are bringin’ ‘em in.”

The whelp and his little family? Spike glanced over his shoulder at Buffy.

She nodded, having heard the message as well via the link. “It has to be,” she said out loud.

“Has to be what?” Angel frowned at them. Being just that small distance further away from the others, he’d failed to pick up what was being said.

“That.” Spike looked toward the front door, just as another operative opened it and ushered Anya through, a lethal-looking handgun held at her head.

Xander came in behind them, his own guard at his back and Buck cradled protectively in his arms. “Hey,” he greeted, and then tipped his chin, indicating their captors. “You guys send out for an extra large order of Yorkshire Puddings or what?”

“Ew yuck!” Buffy grimaced. “As if.”

“Americans,” Hinckley puffed.

“Doesn’t know what she’s missin’,” Spike agreed, then frowned when he realized who he was actually agreeing with. “Oi, keep that bloody pie-hole shut you.”

Hinckley snickered.

Under any other circumstances, Spike might have liked the bloke. Instead, he punched him in the face and watched as the unconscious man crumpled to the floor. “Right, who’s next?”

Sherwood sneered. “Mister Grey, it may have escaped your notice, but we have gained reinforcements. You are no longer in control of this situation.”

Unfortunately he was right. They were at a standoff.

The pause lasted all of thirty seconds before Seth suddenly pulled away from Buffy and made a lightning-fast dash for the basement, dodging around Angel on the way.

“Nip!” Spike took a step in his direction, only to pull up short when Operative Booth cocked his gun and pointed it at the boy’s back.

“Wouldn’t do that if I was you.”

The basement door flew open and a bedraggled-looking Dawn reached out and grabbed Seth’s arm, hauling him against her side. The little boy didn’t make the slightest sound of protest.

Buffy finally moved, breaking her stunned stillness to rush to her husband’s side, calling after her son. “Seth? Baby, come back here…”

“Dawn!” Lydia cried out. “What are you doing? Are you working with them?”

The young Slayer didn’t answer the question directly. She stared at them defiantly, her pretty face smudged with grime from the sewers and her hair tied in a straggly knot. “I heard you all talking before,” she said. “I know the prophecy’s not about me. I think I always knew somehow. This is the only chance I have to prove myself.” She locked eyes with Buffy. “I have to do this. I’m sorry.”

She pulled Seth back into the basement with her and the door slammed shut behind them.

“No!” The agonized sound Buffy made was barely recognizable as a word. She dropped her weapon and crumpled like a rag doll.

Spike caught her before she hit the ground. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her upright against his chest and sending as much comfort as he could through the link.

“’S alright,” he said, more to himself than anything, trying to come to terms with his son’s actions. “He’s okay. He went off his own back. He wanted to go.”

Buffy was already feeling stronger, fortified by her vampire’s unfailing belief that everything was going to work out. She sighed heavily, indulging in a last moment of solace before straightening up again. “I know that. I do.”

“I noticed that too,” Sherwood commented dryly. “Interesting development, isn’t it?”

Vampire and Slayer turned to him as one entity, twin fists slamming into the Watcher’s head, one from the left and one from the right. He dropped like a rock.

And then the store erupted into chaos.

Angel threw Fromme at Booth, who lost his gun when he threw his arms up to defend himself. They both dived after it, scrambling across the floor in a tangle. Angel came up triumphant and used the recovered weapon to cold-cock Booth. There was an audible crack and the man slumped over his now equally-unconscious counterpart.

Xander put Buck down and then used his standing-back-up momentum to slam his elbow in to Guiteau’s midsection. The Council Operative staggered back, casting Anya aside in the process. She landed heavily, crying out on impact.

“Ouch! Damn it, Xander!”

Buck scowled, launched himself across his mother’s lap and sank his teeth into Guiteau’s leg. The operative screamed and Xander was forced to punch him in the throat to shut him up, but not before the man’s cries had alerted a tertiary back-up team of four men who then burst in from the training room.

Giles pulled an auto-loading crossbow from under the counter and shot at the first of them, the bolt piecing the man’s stomach. His second-in-command returned fire with his handgun and Giles fell back, winged. Lydia hurriedly tore a scrap of cloth from the hem of her blouse and packed it against the streaming gash on his right bicep, then took up the crossbow herself, the weapon’s second bolt hitting the gunman dead square in the centre of his chest.

Spike tossed his own crossbow aside, the cry of pain as it unintentionally impacted with Xander’s head failing to register as he raced to take on the remaining two men of the team. Buffy went with him; the Slayer taking out much of her current pain and frustration by knocking her target down and punching him repeatedly. Her vampire went for a quicker and cleaner approach, dispatching his victim with a roar and swift boot in the head.

He observed his wife’s efforts for a second, before walking over to her side. She just went on pummeling the downed man. “I think he’s out, love.”

She paused and glanced up at him, fist cocked and at the ready. “Is Sherwood still down?”

Spike arched a brow. “You gonna do him next?”

“You gonna stop me?”

“If you want to pound on the man, then go ahead by all means. Might be fun to watch. Jus’ figured we had more urgent priorities is all.”

“Guys…?”

They turned to see Xander holding a shaking hand to his bleeding head wound.

“Ouch,” Buffy winced in sympathy. “Are you okay? That looks nasty.”

“Forget about me.” Xander crouched down beside a very pale-looking Anya. She was holding on to her swollen belly and doing some very ominous breathing exercises. He stroked her hair and then looked back up, giving them a pained, almost apologetic smile. “We’ve kind of got a bigger problem.”

-x-

Dawn and Seth walked hand in hand through the sewer tunnels. The young Slayer was peering anxiously around at the dark walls like she expected to get jumped at any second.

“You do know where we’re going, right?” she asked, not for the first time.

“Uh-huh.” Seth plodded steadily onward, never once looking at her or turning to look back.

His eyes were glowing golden.

-x-

Willow and Tara burst in seconds after the metaphoric dust had settled. No-one thought to wonder why they hadn’t been stopped on their way in.

“We’re here!” Willow stopped dead, almost tripping over a body, and looked around aghast at the carnage. “Oh my Goddess, what’s going on?”

The redhead was largely ignored as General Buffy took charge of the situation.

“Okay,” she said, hands on hips. “First things first. Angel - restrain anyone who’s still breathing.” The vampire nodded and moved off to comply, dragging one of the unconscious operatives behind him by the ankles. “Everyone else - patch yourselves up as best you can and get Anya to the hospital. I’m going after Dawn.”

Spike scowled at her. “You mean ‘we’.”

She scowled back. “What?”

“We. As in ‘us’. We’re going after Dawn.”

“Of course we are.” Buffy shook her head at him, confused by his denseness. “Isn’t that what I said?”

“No, it bloody wasn’t.”

“Wait,” Willow interrupted. “Back up. What is going on? Who are these guys, and why in the world would you be going after Dawn?”

The blond vampire snorted. “Because she’s a two-faced, backstabbing little bint. She’s been working with these Council wankers, and she kidnapped the Nipper.” He decided for dramatic purposes to leave out the fact that Seth had actually gone with the young Slayer of his own accord.

The two witches responded with predictable shock.

“Oh, no!”

“She couldn’t have!”

Spike narrowed his eyes at them. “Why’re you so traumatized all of a sudden? ‘S not like you were the best of mates.”

“But she came to see us,” Willow explained.

“Last night,” Tara continued. “A-after the earthquake. She seemed really shaken up.”

“But not, you know, literally.”

Spike huffed. “Stop with the Abbott and Costello routine and just spit it out, would you? Got places to be and a gormless Slayer to ki--” He hesitated on the word, glanced at Buffy and then substituted, “Keep out of trouble.”

Buffy folded her arms. “Oh, don’t worry. If Seth gets hurt, she’s dead.”

Lydia finally turned her attention away from tending to Giles’ injuries. “I beg your pardon?”

“I warned the Council to stay away from my family,” Buffy said. “They didn’t listen. And if Dawn’s working with them? Well, then she’s dug her own grave, hasn’t she?”

“Isn’t that rather a harsh stance to take? You don’t know the true story behind her actions. Perhaps…”

“Perhaps if she wasn’t so self-centered, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place,” Buffy snapped.

Lydia gasped. “Well, perhaps if we had been trusted enough to be let in on your little secret…”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re still not trusted.”

Xander let out a shrill whistle to draw their attention and they all turned to glare at him for the interruption. “Hey ladies, if you’re just gonna stand around and chat all day, I could go ahead and deliver the baby right here,” he offered with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “I mean, at this point I’m an old hand at it.”

“Don’t you touch me!” Anya objected. “You’ve done quite enough.” She somehow managed to pout between taking big puffs of air. “I want my private room at the hospital. I want Doctor Mackie, and I really, really want all the good drugs.”

“You’ll get them,” Buffy promised. She spared a glance for her partner. “Spike?”

“Right.” The blond vampire gave her a curt nod and headed for the training room, returning moments later with a collection of weaponry. He handed her a sword and a curved ceremonial dagger, keeping a short-handled axe for himself.

Peter Sherwood stirred. He was propped against a bookshelf with his hands tied behind his back, but Angel had foregone gagging him as he had the others. “Wha…sit?” he mumbled. He screwed up his rat-like face in confusion, and then groaned in pain as the movement irritated his newly broken nose. “Aah…”

Lydia snickered.

Sherwood glowered in her direction. “You may find my predicament amusing for now, Lydia, but it won’t last. You’re on shaky ground…”

Giles stalked over to him, shored up by adrenaline and the strength of his anger. “Wrong,” he snarled, and was gratified as other man immediately cowered away from him. “We have the relatively solid high-ground, whereas you may find the sands have shifted beneath your feet. Perhaps you should act accordingly before you become buried under the weight of your own incompetence.”

Lydia gazed at him adoringly. He looked ever so ruggedly handsome when beaten and bloodied like that, and she did love a man who took control.

“There are more…” Peter began, and then clammed up.

Spike pounced on the tidbit like a cat on a helpless mouse. “More what? Men? Another team?”

Peter turned his head away mutinously, but apparently thought better of his situation and nodded, conceding defeat. “Yes. There is one other group of operatives. They were supposed to come in through the sewers. I fear they may have become lost.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Spike muttered. “Useless wankers.”

“We’ll deal with them if they turn up.” Buffy locked eyes with Giles. “You’ll be okay?”

“Yes. Of course. Don’t be concerned about us. We’ll manage. Just do your best to…” The watcher sighed, concern for his honorary grandson writ large in his eyes. “Just bring him back safe.”

“No worries, Pops.” Spike tucked a hand under Buffy’s elbow as he escorted her towards the basement, that small gesture revealing to them all how much of his support she still needed despite her brave façade. They disappeared through the door together and slammed it behind them.

-x-

Once in the basement, they used the old trapdoor into the sewers. Spike had once known the tunnels like the back of his hand, but their necessity had diminished since his new, improved sunlight affinity and it took him a moment to get his bearings.

Buffy waited impatiently. “Well? Which way, super-sense guy?”

“Hang on a mo’.” Spike tipped his head, pivoting from one direction to the other, trying for a scent. He resisted the urge to vamp – he didn’t need a headache on top of everything else.

“Do you want me to try?”

“No…” He sniffed and took a few steps down the right tunnel. “No. I got ‘em.” He gestured for Buffy to lead the way. “Seth’s fine, but the Nibblet’s had another mishap at some point. She’s been bleedin’ again.”

“Better than breadcrumbs,” she murmured.

Neither made mention of the ominous fact that that particular tunnel led to the Hellmouth.

-x-

The ambulance had come and gone, taking Xander and Anya with it and leaving the rest of the Scoobies on clean-up duty. They’d corralled the remaining Council operatives in the training room for the time being, away from prying paramedic eyes. In the wake of the battle, they’d congregated around the study table to discuss what had happened, and to determine their next course of action.

“Dawn was all wild-eyed and trembling,” Willow explained. She was sitting at the table with Buck curled up on her lap, maintaining her position as World’s Best Auntie while his parents were otherwise occupied bringing his new sibling into the world. “And I thought she was gonna freak out on us. Which, you know, uncontrollable Slayer? So not of the good. I…” She glanced at Tara. “We decided to perform this M’hayan tranquility spell. It’s non-evasive and totally within Wiccan regulations. It was supposed to give her peace of mind.”

“She calmed right down,” Tara went on. “Then she got quiet. L-like creepy quiet.”

“I think the ‘enlightened wisdom’ part of it might have overloaded and she figured out what was going on with Seth.” The red-head seemed to shrink a little, to make herself less of a target. “I screwed up.”

Angel stood apart from the others, frowning. “So, how did I not sense that she was in the basement? I came in that way.” That fact had been bothering him since the young Slayer had first appeared.

“Um…” Willow’s eyes looked a little shifty, and she winced in anticipation of the reaction her next words would generate. “Sorry. That was also me.”

Tara sighed in heartfelt disappointment. “Oh, Willow. What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Willow defended. “Nothing bad. Not really. It was just a teeny tiny camouflage spell, so that Angel wouldn’t be able to find her.”

Angel’s frown grew even darker and he ground his teeth together. “What?”

“She was upset! You really scared her!”

“She’s a damn Slayer, Willow,” the vampire growled. “Not some helpless girl.”

“Well neither was Buffy and look at what you did to her!”

Silence.

Willow gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth, horrified that she’d let that out.

“You guys won’t ever let that go, will you?” Angel asked quietly. His dark gaze took in each of them one at a time, lingering lastly on Giles, singling him out. “You’ll forgive Spike his past, forget the two Slayers he killed, but somehow my crimes are worse than his could ever be. To you, I’ll always be the evil one.”

The Watcher shook his head weakly. “Angel, it isn’t nearly as simple as that…”

The vampire snorted in disbelief. “Isn’t it?”

“I…We didn’t mean to…” Willow strained to placate him, but it had no perceivable effect.

“Forget it. I don’t care anymore. I’m going after Buffy and Spike.”

Angel turned on his heel and walked away.

-x-

Back in the depths of Sunnydale’s sewer system, Buffy paused as she rounded a corner, moving from one tunnel into another. “Do you hear that?”

“No.” Spike stilled, stagnant water swirling around his boots, and cocked his head, listening. “Wait…yes.” He backtracked a few steps, then pointed to an adjacent tunnel, several feet away from the one that they were using. “Down there, movin’ towards us.”

“The Council Team?”

“Reckon so. They’re not locals, anyway. Judgin’ by the accents, there’s a Yorkie amongst ’em.” Spike snorted. “Damn Northerners.”

“What’s a Yorkie?” Buffy blinked and then held up a hand. “Don’t answer that.”

Spike snickered, swinging his axe around in a bored manner.

She wrinkled her nose. “Okay, decision time. Do we go ahead to the Hellmouth, or back after the Lost Watcher Tribe? Because the stink in here is way worse when you’re standing still.”

“Well, that’s a no-brainer, innit?”

“Hellmouth?”

“Hellmouth.”

TBC…

Icons for MGG

2007-01-10T05:56:38Z

A little post for mercsgoodgirl who wanted a romantic Jaylee icon. I hope one of these fits the bill.

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Happy Happy Joy Joy

2007-01-09T11:17:09Z

*throws confetti and streamers*