Reconstruction

See Chapter 1 for notes and disclaimer.


4.

Lilah's knees jolted against the dashboard in the rhythm of the truck's laboured progress across the terrain, adding to her mosaic of bruises. She pulled her skirt again as far as it would stretch to cover the skin of her legs, and hugged her arms over her chest against the cold. The discoloration of the sky seemed to eat up the sun's Californian warmth, reducing her thin, torn clothes to a joke in lieu of protection against the chill. And some fucking ingrate refugee in the back of the truck had claimed the blankets.

Beside her, Garth cautiously offered his jacket again, and again she told him to fuck off. A fury was buried within her, building steadily as the hours passed, as more of these little exchanges added fuel to it. Didn't he realise who and what she was, what she had been? The things she had done?

Could he not see? Couldn't any of them? Had Angelus torn down her aura of power so completely that all remaining of her was a thing to pity?

"I hope my people are all right in the back with your damn vampire," Garth said, blatantly reaching for anything to say at all to fill the resounding silence.

"More pertinently, is our damn vampire all right in the back with your people?" Lilah responded pissily.

'Cause, yeah, they thought Spike - William, Will, whatever the hell - was evil. That pathetic creature had never willingly sold his soul anytime he'd had a soul and a choice about it. Evil? These people were fucking clueless.

"I don't think he'd hurt anyone," Fred said again.

Eyes on the road ahead and not looking at either of them - for the last hour, not looking at the power struggle taking place quietly beside her in the cab of her loser-ex-boyfriend's truck. The Twig was talking like a broken record, and less readable by the hour. Lilah hadn't the first idea anymore what was going through her head, whether she was too tired to tell them to shut the fuck up or too annoyed in whatever opinion she held on it to let loose her restraint. But Lilah was increasingly aware just how far Wesley had had his head stuck up his ass where it came to the goody-two-shoes girl of his dreams.

The still quiet of the wreck of a world outside the window was the same as the composure Fred held. There were angry red wastelands in that, too... wrapped in sweetness and innocence stretched thin as paper, threatening to split completely and reveal whatever hard little core lay within. The girl had lived five years in Hell. Lilah had only administrated for it, if for longer - from a luxury apartment that she missed with the same kind of intensity she missed every other comfort stripped from her being.

When they stopped, she was going to Fuck Up that bitch who had stolen her blanket.

Not that she would have had the chance if Lilah hadn't been so distracted by Fred. She wasn't thinking about that confrontation. Not the things that had been said, and not the outcome. Certainly she wasn't thinking about the feel of fingertips brushing her face, not unkind, but not kind either.

To distract herself, she thought back again to the minutes after, to watching alldleddled in on herself after she'd dragged her feet back under her and backed off, as Fred skittishly turned and half-ran to rejoin the last of the loading.

She remembered, like fleeting photographic snapshots, the faces of the people as they stopped loading tools and salvaged goods and started loading the human baggage. A dozen souls crammed into the back of the truck, weight shifting heavily on the wooden boards that had provided Lilah and Fred's bed of the previous nighhosehose raw emotions painted on their faces were ones she remembered all too clearly from their own flight out of LA.

Then, 'away' had felt like 'safety' amid the noise and panic, running without direction or goal an overriding instinct. She knew now both consciously and subconsciously how little of safety was left anywhere. The flight instinct had been stifled within her, reduced to a numbness of mixed fear and acceptance, and the dizzy buzz of exhaustion and of nerve endings rnd tnd tired after too long on overload.

She remembered lying awake in the back of the truck the previous night, warm only from Fred's warmth, a small sleeping body curled up in her arms.

The world drifted.

Until, with a jolt, it sharpened again and sped up as the truck pulled to a halt. The half-smile fled Lilah's facial muscles as her knees hit the dashboard, her head hit the window, and she became aware she'd been dozing, the night's sleeplessness catching up on her at last.

Garth's voice said, "Yes. This is the place."

The temperature of the air had dropped to an even more biting chill, and outside, the truck's headlights pierced an almost total dark.

The engine cut and she heard the scuffle of shoes against boards, the thuds of heavy landings as their passengers disembarked from the back.

Then, she heard Fred swear - well, she heard Fred say "oh, crap" - and her eyes shot up in time to see the non-human shadows moving in the headlights' beams. Fred reached to turn the key back, then stopped (Lilah supposed she didn't dare use the truck to mow down the shadows when she didn't know where their own - Sarah-Jane's - people were milling around outside) and reached instead to grab the crossbow and single remaining bolt from the dashboard. She smacked open the door and vanished out into the night.

A gunshot sounded: Sarah-Jane.

Garth moved as though to try hustle Lilah on out so he could get past, then changed his mind and started to climb over and out of the driver's door after Fred instead.

Lilah cursed as she heard a cut-ocreacream from somewhere. There were a morass of figures out there now, and she couldn't tell which was Fred in the darkness. One of the human shapes fell. She shook the last of the drowsiness from her head and hit the door. Slid heavily down from the truck, jerking her arm to send the sword scything out. The handle fell into her palm almost neatly this time around.

A scaly form slammed into her from behind, the edges of its skin abrading her own with the hard contact. She reversed the blade without thought and stabbed backwards under her arm. The jolt was harder than she'd anticipated and she felt it all the way up to her shoulder, wrenching already sore and bruised muscles. But she must have sc a l a lucky hit, because the body collapsed - dragging the sword with it and almost pulling her over. She set her feet and hauled forward, double-handed, and nearly overbalanced the other way when the dead flesh let go its hold.

She looked up, and staggered forward in time to disable the demon about to disembowel one of their humans, her swing as ungainly as an amateur wielding a poorly balanced baseball bat.

The demon faltered and its victim had chance to gasp out a syllable. She recognised the voice and winced.

A spark erupted on the demon's chest and blossomed out to engulf the whole of the creature. Garth sat down abruptly, like he'd been drained of all energy, as the smell of cooking chicken and charcoal filled thr.
r.

Fucking typical, Lilah thought, glaring at the man with disbelief.

Around her, things had quieted down, no fighting still taking place, only six demon corpses in various states of 'yuck' on the ground, and a bunch of exhausted humans standing around them. Or, alternatively, huddled still in the back of the truck.

Fred was trying to pull the last crossbow bolt from a body. "We need more weapons," she said. She freed the bolt with a grunt of effort, and it came away without the tip. "Not to mention ammunition."

"Why the hell did we stop here anyway?" Lilah demanded.

Garth regained his feet, breathless and pawidewide eyes fixed on her. "Because this is where the oracles are," he said in a thin reed of a voice.

'This' was a small track leading off the path, through a sprawling patch of densely packed but scrubby trees struggling to grow in the dry dust of the non-irrigated landscape. Contrary to much of the scenery they'd been presented on the road in the previous twenty-four hours, this place looked barely touched by the effects which had ravaged large portions of the land.

"There's power, here," the teenage witch said, nervously. "I can feel it."

"You can?" Fred perked up interest.

The girl nodded palely. She was avoiding looking at the corpses of the demons, and Lilah gathered she'd been little use in the fight.

Fred looked to Garth, who shrugged and looked disenchanted. "All I feel is drained."

"Oh." Concern sparked in Fred's face. "Can you still perform the rites?"

Garth nodded. "There's little to no actual power involved. It just needs someone with knowledge to speak the words. I suppose the presence of power here would explain its draw for demon activity." He turned hesitantly to Lilah, then. "You saved-"

"Just stow it," she snapped. She realised she was still holding the sword in her hand, and that perhaps this would explain why the mystic looked about to piss himself. She wiped the blade off and snapped it back up into its sheath with a quick motion of her wrist. Garth eyed it, his trepidation making it plain he'd been unaware of its presence throughout the day. The experience provided, Lilah found, something of a buzz.

"Garth..." Fred nervously distracted him, casting a brief, narrow glare at Lilah. "We should do this as quickly as we can. There could be more out there. We shouldn't oughta be just waiting around for them all to decide to come and attack. Lilah-"

"Huh? Because I really need to be there to see the mystical oracles that my firm had put down the last time it had any contact with them? I don't think so."

"Fine," Fred snapped, "But we only have two working weapons left-" she held up her crossbow, lacking ammunition "-and we need one left here and one with us. It makes more sense for Sarah-Jane to stay and use the shotgun to protect the group."

Lilah lookedund.und. The faces turned her way were largely hostile and apprehensive, now they had some inkling of the reality of her. And for all that might make her smile - no, she did not want to stay to protect the group.

"I'll come," she declared.

Great. She was a fucking bodyguard now. She jerked the sword out again.

The Twig didn't expend anything but the briefest of nods in acknowledging.

Lilah tagged along as Fred and Garth headed away, pausing only to glance back when Sarah-Jane shouted, "Don't you be too long, now. We can't wait around here forever!"

When Fred shouted back acknowledgement, the woman added a belated, "Good luck!"

The Twig, a little ahead of Garth on the track, looked alone and small, pale and vulnerable as she raised a hand and uncurled her fingers a little to show her palm in something that almost didn't qualify as a wave... and she was none of those things. She turned again, showing her back, a hunch to her shoulders.

Garth trailed after her, and Lilah reluctantly brought up the rear.

A little way on, sound and sight of the band left behind had faded away and other noises emanated from the darkness to either side. Lilah wished they had a torch, but there had been no such thing on board the truck or in anyone's possession.

She almost walked straight past their goal when they reached it, shoving at Garth when he halted dead in front of her at the edge of the small clearing, cursing him. He whipped around and hissed back at her, pointing out the flat, shallow basin on its ceremonial stand half-hidden in the scrubby vegetation.

"This is it. It's still here."

"Whatever." Lilah watched unimpressed as the two of them fussed with herbs. She'd done her fair share of rituals and spells - who at Wolfram and Hart hadn't? - but it wasn't something she had any particular interest in or skill at, and she was all too happy to stand by and watch others do the mystical legwork.

Her attention drifted, and she made a few experimental passes with the sword still in her grip.

It felt more familiar than it had done, if still an alien device to her hand. She'd have traded it in a moment for some minions or a loaded gun. Yet if someone with the occasional astonishing ungainliness of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had been able to wield it effectively.... well, why the hell not?

She spun the blade, feeling its weight shift, trying to maintain its balance. In the background, she was vaguely aware of Garth's chanting reaching a crescendo of finality.

The world abruptly turned to white light.

"What the shi--?"

Lilah stared around at the bright, ornamented room she suddenly found herself in. Garth was nowhere to be seen, but Fred was six feet away and gave an exclamation of surprise when she turned and saw Lilah. Then, looking beyond her, she closed her mouth, swallowed, and froze.

Lilah followed her gaze around. Two people moved as one down the few small steps off the dais, one dark, one blonde, both adorned in decoration of blue and gold.

"Not the most prompt Champions ever," said Brother Oracle. He had distrustful eyes, an Irish brogue and, apparently, a bad smell up his nose. "You sure took your time in getting here."

"We weren't certain how long we could wait. This place has also been under siege," Sister Oracle added, more serenely.

"We... we came inf information," Fred said uncertainly. "We j-just wanted to know if there was anything that could be done. To help. To set things right... and, hey! There's an apocalypse outside! We came as fast as we could!"

Lilah was struggling to find her voice. What she wanted to say, disinclined to mince words at hearing the 'C' word spoken, and spoken in the plural at that, was "What the fuck are you people smoking?" What came out was a meaningless squeak.

Brother gave her an arch look. Brother, in fact, looked vaguely familiar. She couldn't place where from.

"You came," Sister said. Sister looked a little awkward for a mystical oracle, Lilah privately opined. "It's all that really matters."

"That's more than anybody else has done," Brother agreed.

Lilah finally found her voice. "'Champions'?" she croaked. Fred, looking similarly freaked, exchanged her a covert glance.

"There's not precisely much left in the way of options," Brother said.

Lilah narrowed her eyes. "Salvaged from the reject pile?"

Brother tipped his head. "Yeah, well, happens to the best of us. Personally I'd hoped it would be the broody guy. Although there's a point when hope gets kinda silly for a mystical oracle who can see all the paths of the future, I guess."

Sister drifted to his side, and despite her calm formality, Lilah was convinced she saw a blue and gold elbow jab into Brother's ribs. "Your chance is a slim one," Sister agreed.

"But not impossible," Fred insisted.

"Little truly is." Brother was wearing a rather un-oracle-like smirk.

"Wait," Lilah spluttered. "Wait. I did not come here to... I am not... Goddamn it, I'm not even on your fucking side! When did we lose sight of the fact that, hey, evil here." She stabbed a pointed finger toward her own chest. "And I'm not working with her." She turned the finger onto Fred.

Brother frowned disapprovingly. "Two are required."

"Neither of you could attempt the task alone," Sister said.

"Together you may prevail-"

"-or fail."

Brother shrugged. "Failure is still possible."

"Nothing is assured. But there exists, yet, a chance. Those who laid waste to the world have left. They think there is nobody now to oppose them. But the remnant of their power will not tear down the world overnight." Sister crossed the floor, contemplative, keeping her distance from Fred and Lilah. She did not look at them. "Evil did not mean this to happen any more than Good."

"It's the work of chaos, all right," Brother agreed. He lounged slightly against a bowl on a stand, twin to the one in the clearing, and received another sharp look from Sister for it. He ignored her and concentrated on Lilah. "Your people, while not precisely special favourites of mine, they want the two of you working on this as much as we do."

"If you do not try, there may not be others to do so," Sister said. "Many Champions have been l-lost." Her voice had quieted, and was almost choked as she spoke the last, the trace of a stammer shattering the serenity.

Brother turned to Sister, an odd sadness in his eyes. "She won't be lost much longer," he said. "This place will fade once these two are gone, and there'll be nothing to stay for. You'll be able to join her."

"I know." Sister's frantic, silent gesture, which she at least attempted to keep furtive, drew his attention back to Lilah and Fred.

In a faint annoyance that smacked of 'why are you still here?', Brother said, "Tsk," and raised a hand.

Light flashed, took the room and the oracles away in a dizzying whirl in which Lilah heard words reverberate with the solemnity of prophecy, echoing into infinity as she tried to latch onto them... and then they were back in the clearing.

The only sound was the faint noise of fighting drifting across from the direction of the truck.