End of Days

Title:

Title: End of Days

Chapter: Chapter Thirteen – The Home Front

Author: Queen Akasha

Rating: NC17 in some chapters



Summary: B/S. Season Seven. What’s going on on the home front?

Disclaimer: Yeah – I know I own nothing. (Well, maybe JB. And he is pretty hot. Although not Spikey enough for me. Oh well.)

Spoilers: This is my fictional season seven. Anything up to the end of S6 is fair game but the story isn’t totally true to Grave – it’s slightly AU.

Distribution: Sure. Let me know at Queen_Akasha@telus.net

 


Giles hung up the phone and wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose. His glasses had long been abandoned to the relative safety of his vest pocket, to spare them the indignity of being polished away to nothing. He wasn’t sure if Buffy’s not totally unexpected revelation complicated things or made them easier.

He sighed. He had too much on his mind. Since Buffy left, he had been checking and re-checking his translation of the prophecy, and searching for any possible collaborating evidence. He was almost sure that he had it deciphered correctly, but ancient Phoenician was difficult at the best of times, and the condition of these particular scrolls was poor at best. He also seemed to be missing an important text that he had thought was in stock at the Magic Box. It was difficult.

He longed for the days when he could count on Willow to always be quietly there to help him in his research, her pert nose buried in a book, or her intent face highlighted by the glow of her computer screen.

Since Tara died, she spent all her time holed up in her room, or helping Dawnie with her homework. Dawn’s science class must be quite advanced, Giles thought absently. One evening he had heard an explosion from upstairs. When he’d rushed to check, he’d found Dawn and Willow standing shamefacedly in the hallway outside Dawn’s room, and smoke pouring out of her bedroom door. Willow admitted to helping Dawnie with a science experiment that had gone wrong. Strangely, for two or three days after the explosion, the upstairs hallway held the sharp smell of ozone, and a hint of lavender.

To add to his problems, Dawn seemed to be becoming secretive. Giles had, on two occasions lately, walked into a room unexpectedly, and Dawn had hidden what looked to be a book from him. He assumed that it was her diary, and that she was writing about some boy at school that she had a crush on. Dawn wasn’t like Buffy, who had told him almost everything at that age. He didn’t quite know how to handle her. Giles hoped that Buffy would be home soon. Having no official capacity with Dawn, he didn’t feel equipped to deal with a potential "boyfriend".

And now, Buffy seemed to expect him to relay her new "relationship" with Spike to the rest of the gang. Giles didn’t even know what to call the vampire; he refused to say "Buffy’s lover" – he supposed "boyfriend" would have to suffice.

Giles sighed again and pulled out his glasses. Polishing them, he thought *Hurry home, Buffy.*

 
 
 
 
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Xander felt sick to his stomach. *Just nerves,* he thought, as he fingered the square item in his pants pocket. With his other hand, he kept compulsively checking for the long envelope secreted in his jacket. As the taxi neared the Magic Box, he felt a strange calm settle upon him. *This is the right thing to do,* he thought. *The only thing I CAN do.*

 
 
 
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"The Horn of Enigma!" Willow exclaimed. "I thou&quo"Cup of Angina" was a little off! This ancient Phoenician is a little tricky. Type ‘horn’ and ‘enigma’ as the search words this time."

"OK," Dawn said, typing industriously. "How do you spell ‘enigma’?" Willow laughed and typed the correct spelling in herself, leaning over Dawn’s shoulder. Dawn inhaled appreciatively. Willow smelled, well, like Willow. Ivory soap with a hint of roses. Clean and sweet; wholesome and pure. But since Tara’s death, and until about two weeks ago, Willow hadn’t taken care of herself. Her hair grew lank and greasy, and her body odor was pungent. Buffy had, on a few occasions, gotten so disgusted with Willow’s foul smell that she had forcibly showered the redhead. Willow didn’t protest – she stood compliantly under the spray while Buffy soaped and rinsed her and washed her hair, but afterwards, she would soon return to her previous unwashed and smelly state.

About two weeks ago, thought, Willow and Dawn had had a breakthrough with the ancient text that they had ‘borrowed’ from the Magic Box. On that day, Willow had taken a long bath, soaking in a tub with scented oils that she and Tara had distilled themselves in happier times. Then, for the first time since Tara’s death, Willow cleaned her room, throwing open the windows and airing out the stale space. She polished all the wood with lemon scented furniture polish until she could her her reflection, and made up the bed with fresh linens, tucking sprigs of dried lavender under the pillows, as Tara had done when she was alive.

Buffy had been so preoccupied that she barely noticed, but Dawnie was ecstatic to have her friend Willow back, with her gleaming red hair, sweet breath, and the former sparkle in her eyes instead of that dull and dazed look she had been carrying around.

"Oh, look, Willow," Dawnie exclaimed happily. "There’s quite a few hits."

Willow, still looking over her shoulder, pointed to one in particular. "Click on this one, Dawnie," she said. "That’s the place where I bought the Urn of Osiris."

 
 
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Xander asked the taxi to wait. He stood back in the shadows, watching Anya as she locked up the Magic Box for the day. She looked so sexy in her tight hip-hugging bell bottoms and belly baring purple baby tee that read "Material Girl" in scrolling gold glitter script. Her blonde hair was caught up in an adorable pony tail that made her look all of sixteen. He was admiring the tight curves of her buttocks when she sensed someone watching her. She whirled around, holding a small aerosol canister in her hand.

"Back off!" she shouted. "I have pepper spray!" She looked down at the container in her hand and truthfully amended "Well, actually it’s Giorgio eau du cologne, but it’ll still sting your eyes, and you’ll get beaten up in prison as well!"

Xander held his hands up and stepped out into the light. "Don’t shoot, ma’am," he drawled. "I’m unarmed, unless you count Binaca."

"Oh, Xander, it’s just you," Anya said, slipping the cologne into her purse. She looked away, not quite meeting his eyes. "I’m a mess," she addeduchiuching her hair. "I just finished doing inventory, and, oh, we’re so out of whack on the Burba weed! And crystal ballSomeSomething’s definitely wrong with ………… "

Xander placed a finger on her lips and stopped her babbling. He gently turned her chin towards him, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Ahn, we need to talk," he said softly. "It’s just not working out this way. Not for either one of us."

 
 
 
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TBC

 
 
 
 
 
A/N

I’ve been so worried about Buffy and Spike that I’ve neglected everyone at home. Just had to pop in and check on them. Glad Willow’s feeling better, aren’t you? Wonder what happened to make her shape up her act? And, oh oh, what’s Xander trying to say to Anya? And will Giles’ glasses hold up under the strain?

Stay tuned for the answers to these and more questions. Oh yeah, what about JB and Spike’s soul? You’ll find out soon ……….

 
 
Please review if you’re liking this, or even if you’re not. I’m starting to think no-one is reading. >)