Buffy The Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th Century Fox. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. All the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles are copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. Characters from other tv shows and films belong to their respective creators. All original characters are the property of Wispr.
Authors Note: First off, I want to thank my Brother for the proofreading! Second, The Goliath Chronicles never happen and the biggest change I’m making with Gargoyle Canon is that there are no hand held laser weapons. Also multiple partner warning later in the series
A big thanks to rebelrsr for agreeing to become my second beta and for taking on the big job of reediting my older chapters… thanks! When a old chapter is reedited I'll add -Edited By rebelrsr- in the Author Notes at the head of that chapter.
:::Means a memory flashback:::
Ch. 2 Ch.
3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch.
8 Ch. 9 Ch. 10
Willow gave a quiet sigh as she watched the costume shop proprietor help Buffy with the seventeenth century dress that she was almost literally drooling over. Xander had already bought the toy gun he was looking for and was just wandering around the store. Willow was happy for Buffy. Things between her and Angel seemed to be going so well.
And yet, she had to admit to herself that she was jealous, too. It wasn’t until just a few day’s ago that while she was bandaging a nasty slash on Buffy’s back that it struck her. She was VERY attracted to her best friend - her best friend who was a girl! She knew she had acted strangely afterward, but she couldn’t help it. The feel of Buffy’s flesh under her fingers just wouldn’t leave her thoughts.
Giving another heart felt sigh, Willow turned back to perusing the wigs on display. So far, she was disappointed with the selection; her costume just had to be right. Everything else she had put together for her costume was as authentic as she could make it, though she couldn’t actually afford to buy the brand names her idol wore. She bought the closest looking business suit, or what the media started calling, “The Red Power Suit”, that she could find. She also took one of her mom’s old briefcases and filled it with stock quotes and brochures that she had sent off for when the company first opened for business.
Willow knew her friends wouldn’t really think much of her choice of costumes, but, like Buffy had said to her earlier, “Halloween is the night that you are you, but not you, you know?”
Ok, Willow had to acknowledge that it took her several minutes to decipher exactly what Buffy meant, but once she did, she agreed with it whole-heartedly! That’s why she decided to dress as the person she wanted to most emulate.
“Can I help you?” a very British sounding voice enquired from behind her. Willow was rather proud of herself that all she did was let out a quiet, “Eek!” instead of the blood-curdling scream that was her first impulse. Turning to face the proprietor, Willow gave him a small, tight smile, “Oh, I’m looking for a special wig.”
After a moment of silence - and seeing no further information was forthcoming - the proprietor gave Willow a warm smile and bowed slightly. “Ahh, let me introduce myself. My name is Rayne, Ethan Rayne. But I would be greatly honored if such a pretty lass such as yourself would call me Ethan.”
Willow could feel her face turning beet red as she looked down in embarrassment. “Thank you… uh… Ethan. I’m Willow, Willow Rosenberg”.
“And now that the formalities have been taken care of, how may I be of service?” Ethan said with another smile.
“Well, like I said before, I’m looking for a special wig to finish my costume.” Willow frowned to herself; she hoped she wasn’t about to upset Mr. Rayne, he was so very Britishly proper like Giles. “I don’t see one that would work.”
“May I enquire into the uniqueness of this wig you are searching for?” Ethan asked, his British accent making the question sound so suave.
Willow felt her face heat up again as she pulled from her purse a picture she had printed off the Internet some time ago. “I’m dressing as her.” Willow showed Mr. Rayne the picture. “I got the clothes, but my hair isn’t even close to hers, and I want this to be perfect.”
After getting a nod of consent, Ethan took the picture and as he studied it, he asked, “Who is she, one of those supermodels or movie heroines?”
“Oh no!” Willow replied earnestly. “She’s the owner and CEO of Nightstone Unlimited. Her name is Dominique Destine, and she is the fastest rising…”
Ethan just stood there in awe as the red head told him the life history (or at least what she was able to find) of Ms. Destine. After several minutes had gone by - didn’t this bird need to breathe? - he gently interrupted her. “Yes, yes I’m quite sure she is a wonderful person, and I do believe I can help you. There are some wigs in the back that I hadn’t unpacked yet. If you can but give me a few moments, I’ll be back.”
“Sure, and thanks,” Willow replied with a big smile.
Taking the picture with him (he told her it was to help him find the wig), Ethan closed and locked the backroom door and then went about gathering the ingredients for the spell he had in mind. After everything was ready he used the picture as a focus to change one of the long-haired witch’s wigs he had into what was shown in the photograph. The enchantment would only last a day, but that would be long enough. He chuckled to himself, taking an odd sort of pride in satisfying his customers.
Willow watched avidly as Mr. Rayne set a wig case on the counter and opened it. “I do hope this was what you had in mind,” Ethan said to her as he pulled out its contents.
Willow could feel her mouth drop in shock. It was perfect! After paying for it and thanking him profusely, Willow left with her two friends who had waited for her to finish her purchase.
Evening…
In the backroom of the now closed costume shop, Ethan knelt in front of the bust of the Two Faced God Janus. He was just finishing the ritual that would turn all of the people who had bought his costumes into living representations of those costumes. With a look of sinister glee, he completed the enchantment, “Chaos. I remain, as ever, thy faithful, degenerate son.” As he saw the bust’s eyes begin to glow, he whispered to himself, “Showtime!”
Demona was shocked to find herself standing on a porch in what looked like a small town, with numerous small creatures running around her. The last thing she remembered was getting ready to take off from her manor in New York. Suddenly, she screamed and doubled over in pain. Demona was even more surprised that she was in her human form again. It seemed that she was transforming into her true form like she did every sunset.
She cried out as she felt her bones break and reform. The clothes she was wearing ripped apart as her gargoyle form emerged. Once the pain of the transformation receded, Demona looked around her new surroundings, trying to determine how she got there. As she walked off the porch, Demona gave her wings a good stretch and then draped them over her shoulder. Paying more attention to what was happening around her, she was startled to recognize actual fictional characters that seemed to have been brought to life. She had interacted with the human world long enough to have seen some of them in passing on the TV or in bookstores.
Suddenly, an uncomfortable idea came to her. Ignoring the chaos going on around her, Demona walked over to the nearest parked car and tore off side view mirror. Looking into it only confirmed her fears: she wasn’t in her own body! She could see that though this body mimicked hers, there were minor differences in bone structure and size that made her think of a human teenager. The face was completely different also. Dropping the mirror, Demona searched the rags she was wearing for any form of ID. Coming up empty, she went back to where she first awoke and found a briefcase lying by the pair of destroyed shoes she had been wearing. Looking though its contents, Demona quickly found a picture of her Dominique persona from one of the various Business Magazines. “Well”, she thought to herself, “at least I’m not some fictional character like the others.” It had to be some kind of spell, and by the Dragon she was going to track down the caster and skin him or her alive!
First, though, she needed to gain some height, and she did this by simply climbing up the side of the house she was by and leaping off the roof. Her flight was wobbly at first while she got used to the body she currently inhabited. In no time, though, she was catching the thermals from the pavement and rooftops below her. Once she was at a sufficient height, Demona looked upon the town with her Mage Sight. Mage Sight was an ability anyone who wanted to become a high level practitioner of the Arts of Sorcery had to learn. It allowed her to see the magical emanations from items of magic, spells and even areas where magic had permeated the land. What she saw shook her to her very core: the whole town glowed with demonic energy. For a moment, all she was able to do was glide in stunned silence; the only thing she could think of that would cause such an effect was a Hellmouth! Demona had always believed that they were but myths of old. Shaking her head, Demona tore her thoughts away from this horrific discovery to focus on the more pressing matter - ending this spell she was under. Afterward, when she was back in her own body, would she thoroughly investigated this new discovery.
Demona first looked at her own body and was able to recognize the magical signature. Chaos magic that was powered by divine might. Obviously, a follower of one of the multitude of Chaos Gods, such as Discordia or Janus, was involved in this debacle. It took considerable amount of concentration to see beyond the demonic energy, but once she was able to, it was easy to trace the lines of power that originated from the cursed costumes back to their source. Once she got close enough, Demona spotted the epicenter of the spell. It glowed like a bonfire made of chaos. After landing quietly in front of the darkened store, Demona was surprised to find the front door unlocked. Shrugging to herself (for a locked door wouldn’t have stopped her anyway), Demona entered the building.
When Ethan heard the front door open and close, he turned with an arrogant smile on his face, “Was wondering how long it take you to get here, old chum, and now…” Ethan’s words came to an end when he saw the silhouette was most definitely not that of his old friend Ripper. Well, not unless he lost a head of height and went back to the hairstyle that he had when they ran together. He narrowed his eyes in thought. The hair tickled his memory.
“You are the one responsible for this.” It was more a statement of fact than posed as a question, and it was said in a voice as cold as the darkest winter nights back in Merry Old England.
Fighting not to show how disquieted he was beginning to feel, Ethan answered, “Why, yes, I am.” He gave the shadowy figure a cocky bow. “I am but a humble servant of Janus, but since you were able to find me, I must assume you, too, are a practitioner of one of the Mystical Arts.” Pausing a moment, his memory suddenly clicked, and he gave the young woman a - what was the Yankee slang - ah…yes, a shit eating grin. “But of course you are, that was how you were able to rise so fast in the corporate world, isn’t that correct, Ms. Destine?” Once her name passed his lips, he knew he had made a terrible mistake. Her eyes suddenly flared blood red, and she erupted from the shadows in all of her gargoyle glory to bodily slam him against the wall. Well, let’s just say that was the final nail in the coffin.
Demona looked upon the Chaos Mage with disdain. Even trapped in this younger gargoyle body, it was easy for her to hold him pinned to the wall with one clawed hand wrapped around his throat. “Tell me,” she hissed in his face, “how did you recognize me?”
The Mage answered as best as he could in the predicament he was in. “The young lady who dressed like you had a picture. She idolizes you, you know, and before you do anything drastic to me, I know her name.”
Demona wanted to swipe the gloating smile off of his face, but she held herself in check. She needed to know who she was currently possessing, just in case the human should retain any memories of this night.
“Fine, tell me, and I’ll let you live”, she grated out through tightly clenched fangs.
Ethan knew at that moment the Grim Reaper had passed him by once again. Gripping the blue skin arm holding him against the wall, he demanded to be let down. She did, though Ethan thought she didn’t have to be so rough about it. After straightening his clothes, he began to talk. “Well, first off, I’d like a Blood Oath from you.” He gave her a rakish grin. “I believe you have thoughts of ending my dear old life, and we can’t have that, now can we?”
“Agreed; although, you will also tell me how to end this spell,” she replied. When he gave her a nod in agreement, Demona made a shallow cut in the palm of her hand with one of her claws. She couldn’t help wondering if any of her Immortality would linger in the young woman’s body after she was gone. Letting the blood drip to the floor, she spoke, “I so swear upon the magic in my blood that when I leave you will be alive, and that afterward I will not hunt you down unless you try to cause me or mine harm.” Demona raised one brow ridge in challenge as she finished giving the Oath.
Ethan smirked at her making him wait. Then, in an oily voice, he said, “I gracefully accept your Oath, my dear lady.”
Her lips curling in a snarl, she asked, “How do you end the spell?”
With a wave of his hand, Ethan replied, “Simple, my dear, just smash the bust within the circle, and everyone will go back as they were.”
“And the girl’s name? Also, what town is this?” Demona demanded.
“Ahh, yes, the young woman called herself Willow Rosenberg, and you are currently residing in Sunnydale, California. It is also known as Sunnyhell due to the active Hellmouth located here.” Ethan was feeling rather generous tonight.
Demona gave the Chaos Mage a nod of thanks and then commenced to ram both clawed hands into his stomach. She watched as his eyes bulged out in shock and agony. Smiling sweetly, she sliced through his intestines and any other lower organs she could reach. With a slight sucking sound, Demona withdrew her gore-covered hands. She ignored the thump of his body hitting the floor as she made her way to the bust. After stepping within the circle, she picked the bust up. Holding it aloft, she turned to meet the horror filled eyes of the mortally wounded mage and spoke as she gave him one of her most sinister smiles, “I never promised not to harm you, now did I?”
Laughing, Demona smashed the bust of Janus against the floor.
The first thing Willow was aware of was a pounding headache. The second was lying on her side covered by a heavy blanket. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Everything was kind of blurry at first, but eventually the room came into focus. Willow saw that she was on the floor, In front of her was a pedestal with the smashed remains of a statue’s head before it.
Willow’s head whirled, the room fading for an instantInstead, she saw the bust of Janus smashing on the floor in an explosion of light A shearing pain shot through her body as the light seemingly punched its way through her, then darkness.
Willow gave a soft gasp as the memory struck her, causing the pain from her headache to redouble. She closed her eyes until the pounding in her head receded enough that it didn’t feel that she would get sick to her stomach. With her eyes still closed, Willow became aware that her body felt leaden in some parts, and yet she could feel the breeze from the small ceiling fan blowing across the blanket that was on her.
No… she could feel the breeze as if it was blowing across her own skin instead of a blanket! Her eyes snapped open in fear; she knew something was terribly wrong. She couldn’t make herself look down at her body, though. All the while, as Willow laid there slowly working her nerve up to look, she could feel more and more differences with her body making themselves known to her. With her eyes hardening with determination, Willow forced herself to throw off the blanket with one arm while she rolled over so she would be able to sit up. The blanket turned into a wing that she could feel was attached to her back and her arms - her blue skinned arms were covered in blood and tissue! Willow just lay there screaming as she stared in horror at her arms. Then her screams were choked off as the memories assailed her.
:::Gliding through the night over a large forest, the tree tops passing underneath her. A man in Viking armor climbed a ladder only to meet her claws at the top of the battlement, Battle. A slew of faces and winged forms rushed before her mind’s eye, Clan. Rubble and broken forms, all that remained of her clan, BETRAYAL! A King, a friend, and an enemy, Macbeth. A myriad of medieval cities seen from above, changed as if seen over a span of centuries through time-lapsed video. A man in a mask with three red slashes across it, Hunter. Her hand, caressing the face of a large stone statue of a gargoyle, Goliath. A bearded human, Xanatos. The clan awakened by a human female, Elisa. BETRAYAL! Puck coming out of a mirror bound in chains. A tall office building, Nightstone. A young female gargoyle, Angela-Daughter. Awaking on a porch in Sunnydale. Seeing a building glowing with Chaos magic from the air.:::
Willow began to hyperventilate as the memories drew nearer to the present.
:::A human talked to her with a gloating smile, Ethan Rayne. Claws sank into flesh and blood. She felt her claws slice through organs with ease, and she enjoyed the smell of blood and fecal matter as she pulled her hands out. Holding the bust aloft and then shattering it on the floor, light bursting forth from the remains.:::
Willow found herself rolling over, her mind and body working in tandem. She ended up on her hands and knees just in time to empty her stomach contents on the floor. The smell of the vomit was almost a relief from the horrid smell coming from her arms. Once she was able to stop her retching (there was nothing left to bring up), Willow sat back into a crouch. The claws at the ends of her three-toed feet gripped the wooden floor firmly. Her wings and tail repositioned themselves instinctively; though, she kept both her wings and arms away from her body. The stuff on her arms had spread to her inner wing membranes while she was unconscious.
Willow let out a small whimper when her eyes fell on the bloody remains of Ethan Rayne. With a shudder, she forced herself to look away from the blank and lifeless stare directed her way. Looking around, Willow saw through a partially opened door what had to be the store’s bathroom. Making her way toward it was a bit of a challenge. Even though her body knew how to walk, her mind was still kind of stuck in human mode. After knocking over several racks of costumes and boxes, Willow finally made it to the bathroom door. She used her elbow spike to open the door fully, for she didn’t want to get blood on it. Entering the bathroom, Willow got her first real look at her gargoyle self.
:::She peered at the reflection from the mirror torn from a car and saw a dark blue face:::
Willow felt herself sway as the memory played itself out. Forcing herself to look intently at the image in the mirror, Willow immediately noticed that she no longer looked so alike Demona. Her skin was a lighter blue and, not counting for the younger and smaller body, there were both minor and major differences over all. Willow had eye ridges like Demona, but hers ended in small, bony spurs. Demona’s were completely covered over with flesh. Actually looking over what she could see of her body, Willow had to admit that her gargoyle body looked a lot more sinister than her (albeit spotty) memories recalled was the norm for the Scottish Clan. The most noticeable difference that caught Willow’s attention was the interlocking bony ridges that ran from the wing’s finger joint all the way down the outer spar bone ending in a very nasty looking bone-bladed spike. The bony ridging was serrated and appeared to be wickedly sharp!
“Great,” Willow mumbled to herself quietly, “I’m a Hellmouth Gargoyle.”
Getting her mind back on track, Willow was able to turn the sink’s faucets on without problems. The soap dispenser ended up being a challenge. Willow finally took the direct approach by simply ripping it open with her claws. Willow found that if she carefully kept her mind blank, she was able to get her arms and wings cleaned without causing herself too much distress. When she was done, she stood in a mess of bloody water and paper towels on the bathroom floor, but at least she felt physically clean. As she stepped out of the bathroom, unknowingly leaving three-toed footprints behind her, the jingle of the bell over the front door came to her gargoyle ears. Her eyes widened in fear when she recognized the voice when the person shouted.
“Ethan, get your bloody arse out here!” an enraged Giles yelled.
Destine’s Manor, New York City
Like the true warrior she was, Demona came awake in an instant and was up in a fighting crouch a moment later. Seeing that she was at the base of her Manor house and that there were no enemies in sight, Demona allowed herself to relax. Looking up, Demona saw the balcony above, the one she was taking off from when the spell had hit her. Luckily for her, any injuries from the fall were healed by her Immortality.
Quickly, she made her way back inside and down to her Arcane Laboratory. Once she had entered and activated the Wards, Demona went about casting a Spell of Scrying on the mirror she kept just for such occasions, hoping she would be able to locate the young human she had possessed earlier that night. Using the fast-fading traces of Chaos Magic that had formed the bridge for the possession, Demona was able to follow it to the end. What she found was shocking.
The image in the mirror showed her that the human female was still a Gargoyle, and, by all appearances, her body had changed from the almost duplicate image of her own form. Demona watched as Willow woke up, and noted the reactions the young human had to her new form. When Demona was able to truly scrutinize the other Gargoyle’s body, she drew the conclusion that the demonic energy from the Hellmouth must have caused some physical mutations in reaction to the evil permeating the area. They shared enough physical characteristics to be mistaken as kin - either sisters or even mother and daughter. She was also surprised to hear the young woman identifying the Hellmouth.
Quickly, Demona drew a Sigil over the image of Willow while chanting quietly. When she was done, the Sigil flared for a moment, and then it seemed to sink into the mirror’s surface to merge with Willow’s body. Now Demona would be able to locate or scry the young female whenever she wished. Just as the Sigil completely disappeared, Demona heard a male voice yelling in the background, she focused her attention on the young woman’s reaction. Demona was very curious about just how much (if any) of her mentality had remained behind with the physical changes.
Ethan’s Costumer Shop
Willow found herself growling while crouching down into a fighting stance. Her wings flared out behind her in reaction to Giles’ anger-filled shout. It scared her that she had such a strong urge to kill him. The fear let her gain control over her instincts. Speedily glancing around the room, Willow was unable to spot a back door. Coming to a decision, Willow put thought into action. Dropping to all fours while folding her wings across her back, Willow charged the doorway leading to the front of the store, where the exit and Giles were located.
Willow was glad the lights were off in the front room. Giles couldn’t see her like this. For that matter, none of the Scoobies could. Willow heard Giles give a cry of alarm as she burst through the doorway. She was hoping since she was on all fours and also being backlit he wouldn’t be able to recognize her. Willow was almost to the front of the store when the headlights from a car turning onto the street dazzled her Gargoyle-sensitive eyes. Almost immediately, she ran into a display of large plastic-wrapped cardboard skeletons that buried her as it collapsed. Willow was in the process of extracting herself from the debris when, through the clear plastic of the packages, she saw the distorted form of Giles swinging a huge battle-axe at her! With a startled screech, Willow erupted from the pile, diving to the side while one wing snapped outward.
The bony ridges locked together to form a deadly serrated bone blade along her wing’s edge. The blade easily cut through the axe’s shaft just above where Giles was gripping it. With a startled oath, Giles threw himself away from the deadly wing tip that had so handily disarmed him. While Giles was distracted, Willow skidded to a stop from her dive in front of one of the shop’s large plate glass windows. Without a second thought, she leaped through it. In an explosion of glass, Willow sailed through the window. Her leap carried her into a park van, where she ended up leaving a rather large blood-speckled dent in the sliding door.
Dropping to the sidewalk slightly stunned, it only took Willow a few seconds to get her thoughts in order. Twisting around, Willow dug the claws on the tips of her toes into the cement below her and rocketed up as her powerful leg muscles propelled toward the wall above her. She hit the wall of the costume shop a good fifteen feet off the ground. Her talons easily found purchase as they sank into the brickwork. Willow rapidly ascended toward the roof. Her tail was just disappearing over the edge as Giles made his way out of the store, still grasping the severed axe handle.
Giles gazed up in bemusement at the tail from the winged form that he had seen leaping past the window. He could readily identify where it had landed on the wall and made its way up by the claw marks left in the bricks. Looking from the shattered plate window to the bloody dent in the van, Giles surmised that whatever the creature was, it was very tough. Turning to go back inside, Giles paused a moment to glance at the remains of the axe he was still gripping. Tilting the plastic handle, he read out loud the label by the light from the street lamp. “Barbarian Axe, for children six and up.”
“Oh, bloody HELL!”
Willow was able to make it home without too much difficulty. She just stuck to the shadows, and (with this being Sunnydale) there were a lot of shadows. She didn’t even attempt to glide. She really didn’t trust herself enough to try that! Once she was at her house, Willow had to figure out a way to get in without her house key - which was at Buffy’s house in her purse. Finally, she decided on a course of action. Climbing the trellis that led to the balcony outside of her bedroom was the easy part. It took awhile, but, by using her claws, Willow was able to wiggle the bolt locking the French doors back enough to be able to gain entry. Once inside, she pulled the curtains closed. As she moved deeper into her bedroom, Willow noticed that the message light was flashing on her answering machine. Pressing the ‘play’ button, Willow was unsurprised to hear Buffy’s voice asking if she was OK and to call the library. She did; though, she had to put the phone on speaker. She was afraid the handset would get crushed.
The phone only rang a couple of times before it was picked up. “Willow?” an anxious Xander asked.
“Yep, it’s me,” Willow replied. “Did you and Buffy change into your costumes, too?” Willow asked. Even though she knew the answer, she had to play along.
“Uh uh. I got to be G.I. Xander, and Buffy got to be afraid of cars,” Xander said while snickering. “I was trying to find some place for Buff and I to hide out when the spell ended. We looked for ya’ but couldn’t find you, so we decided to head over here just in case you were here and also report to Giles.”
Willow grinned to herself on how Xander sound so very soldiery when he said, “report to Giles.”
“So, Wills,” Xander continued, unaware of Willow’s thoughts, “what was it like being a corporate C.E.O?”
Willow grimaced as she looked down at herself as she answered Xander. “It was gave me a whole new perspective on things, and you could say it kind of left me feeling like a whole new person.” She flinched at her own comment; it was a bit too close to home for her comfort.
“Will, you alright?” he asked with concern coloring his voice. “You’re sounding a little off there.”
With a small smile at her friend’s concern for her, Willow replied, “Yeah, I’m OK. It’s just being her tonight came with a lot of unwanted baggage and stuff. I’ll tell you guy’s tomorrow at school.”
“OK, Will, I’ll tell Buffy and G-Man you called when they get back. I’ll see you tomorrow then; pleasant dreams,” Xander said.
“Wait, where did they go?” Willow asked.
“Oh, G-Man went to that costume shop; he acted like he knew that guy that sold us the costumes, and Buffy had to use the little Slayer’s room,” Xander answered.
“Xander,” Willow said, slightly embarrassed about finding out Buffy being in the bathroom. “Could you ask Buffy to bring my purse with her when she leaves for school tomorrow?”
“No problem,” Xander said. “I’ll see you then. Night, Wills.”
“Goodnight,” Willow said before hanging up. Willow then commenced pacing throughout the darkened house while talking to herself, trying to figure out what she was going to tell the gang tomorrow. Unknowingly, she gave Demona, who was still watching her in the Scrying Mirror, loads of information.
Destine’s Manor
As the night wore on, Demona grudgingly grew more impressed with the young female’s actions; though, she was disappointed that the human male wasn’t killed. On hearing the phone conversation, she was very intrigued that the teens didn’t seem at all fazed about what happened to them. But then finding out that Willow knew the current Slayer put a whole new twist on things and also explained why she avoided the male back at the store. Demona was sure he was the Slayer’s Watcher. Growling softly to herself, Demona recalled the Council’s policy concerning her kind: kill on sight, preferably during the day.
When young Willow started walking through the house arguing with herself on what to tell the Scoobies, Demona thought to herself, “Why do they call themselves Scoobies?”. Later, she found out why and was astounded at what the youngling was a part of. When the girl prepared to try showering, Demona turned away to think about what she had learned. In the back of her mind, there was an errant thought about the girl’s gargoyle body giving her extra lung capacity. She seemed to be able to talk for long stretches without the apparent need to take a breath!
After dismissing the image from the mirror, Demona made her way over to the phone and called her office, leaving a message for her secretary to cancel her appointments for the day. She wanted to keep an eye on this youngling. She was interested to see if Willow had dual forms like she did. Also, if she was human by day, Demona had to know if her friends accepted Willow’s deception on why she couldn’t go out at night. If it was believable enough, Demona herself would use it; though, it would grate her nerves to appear so weak to the world.
Grabbing a bottle of Port and a goblet from a cabinet, Demona sat down in front of the deactivated Scrying Mirror. Filling the goblet, Demona leaned back and sipped while she stared moodily into the mirror. She had some very heavy thinking to do. Was she ready to admit that her crusade against the humans could’ve led to Demons overrunning the world? In trying to protect her kind and, most importantly, her daughter, Demona had come so very close to literally damning them to a living hell.
Also, what to do about the youngling? If what she overheard was right, Willow’s parents wouldn’t be back for several weeks yet. That led to a whole slew of problems in itself. Judging by the mini rant Willow went off on when she mentioned her parents while talking herself, her parents hardly spent any time at home.
Leaning forward, Demona reactivated the Scrying Mirror. She was amused to see that the shower curtains had several large holes and numerous smaller slashes in it. With a small smile of amusement, Demona watched closely as Willow went about drying herself at the cost of several towels. Demona thought to herself just how deadly the youngling could be with her natural weaponry and the proper training. Watching the girl brushing out the mane of red hair she seemed to have inherited from her helped in solidifying an idea that was slowly taking shape. Draining her goblet, Demona got up with a sigh. She had calls to make.
Willow’s House
For Willow, standing in the middle of her bedroom floor, sunrise was just a few moments away. She shivered in anticipation of the pain the morning might bring. Willow felt strongly that she was going to turn back to her human self like Demona did every morning. Just in case, though, she had left a note on her bedroom door. It explained that she was the statue – not a demon - so please don’t slay! Willow unwrapped the sheet from around her and dropped it on the bed; she had been using it to cover herself since her shower. To her chagrin, she found that in her Gargoyle form none of her clothes would fit, and she had unthinkably ripped the raiment’s off her costume . She had to settle for a sheet; even being alone in the house it wouldn’t be right to go around naked!
She took a deep breath as she picked up the towel from the bed. Willow folded it several times into a tight bundle. Then, when she felt the first warning tingles that foreshadowed the change, she stuffed the towel into her mouth to muffle her screams. It was good thing she did. Willow screamed as she collapsed to the floor. She could feel her bones shift and reform. Willow’s muscles felt like they were being pulled apart and then squeezed back together again.
The transformation felt far worse then what her sporadic memories from Demona had felt like. After what seemed to be an eternity (but was reality close to a quarter of a minute), a sweat-drenched human Willow lay on the floor quivering.
She was barely able to get her mouth to work enough to spit the gag out. Afterward, Willow remained on the floor panting while the tremors racing through her body slowly subsided. At first, she couldn’t fathom why she was reacting so differently to the transformation than Demona. Then it struck her: Demona was an Immortal; she healed at an astonishing rate. Willow found herself quietly sobbing as she lay there; she was in such a quandary. Willow couldn’t shake the feeling that Demona might find her. If Demona did, the only thing that would save Willow’s friends was if she didn’t tell them what had happen to her. Maybe if, after awhile, Demona didn’t show up, she would tell them then.
It took close to fifteen minutes before Willow was able to stand without too much fear of collapsing. She fervently hoped that her Gargoyle form would recover faster than her current form. Willow knew she was probably grasping at straws, but right now she was feeling almost overwhelmed at the thought of having to go through this agony twice a day. Taking a much needed deep breath, Willow made her way on slightly shaky legs to the bathroom. She really needed a shower and a huge breakfast. By the Dragon, she was starving!
Willow had just finished washing the last of the dishes when she heard a light rapping at the front door then Buffy’s voice as she let herself in. Willow had unlocked the front door after her shower for that very reason.
“That was some night we had there, wasn’t it?” Buffy said as she made her way into the kitchen. On seeing how Willow was dressed, Buffy jokingly asked, “Wow, Willow, you going to a Board Meeting?” Buffy’s smile slowly faded on seeing Willow’s confused then stricken look. It was as if she suddenly realized what she was wearing. Guessing at what had happened, Buffy said, “Hey, Wills, you must have seen me last night when I went to change back to 20th century clothes. When I opened my closet, the first thing I looked for was the petticoats!”
Looking up from the dress suit she was wearing, Willow gave Buffy a small, tight smile as she said, “I seemed to have retained a bit more of her then I thought. I usually only wear this when my parents trot me out to show off to some of their associates.” Willow gave a slight sigh as she continues speaking. “I’ve got some stuff I need to tell the gang before school starts. But, hey, like my new hair?” Willow asked as she showed Buffy the ponytail she had tied her much longer hair into.
“Whoa, it’s so soft!” Buffy exclaimed has she ran her fingers through it. Then, remembering what Willow had said, Buffy asked with a frown, “What kind of stuff?”
Willow had to refocus her attention away from the feelings her best friend’s action had unknowingly produced before she could answer. “Well, like I told Xander last night, being Dominique has left me with a lot of unwanted baggage.” Resting one hand on Buffy’s shoulder while giving her friend a tired smile, Willow continued. “Please just be patient a little bit longer. I want to tell everyone in one sitting; it saves me having to repeat myself.”
“OK,” Buffy replied in a caring voice, “and before I forget, I brought your purse. It’s in my book bag.” Buffy nodded her head toward the front door where she had left the bag. “I’ll give it to ya’ when we leave.”
“Thanks,” Willow replied, and then turned to pick up her backpack off the kitchen table. “I’m ready.”
As the two of them walked to school, they talked about an upcoming History test Buffy was worrying about. In the back of Willow’s mind, she couldn’t help hoping she had retained enough of Demona to carry off the lie she was about to tell them.
Looking through the Library door’s window, Willow was thankful to see that both Xander and Giles were already there. She so wanted to get this part over with. Seeing Xander slouching in his chair while looking at a magazine gave Willow a hideously evil idea. Putting her index finger to her lips, Willow gave Buffy the universal “quiet” sign, and then commenced to slowly enter the Library. Giles looked up from the counter where he was busy sorting returned books; Willow signed him to silence, too. Through all of this, Xander remained oblivious to what was happening around him. Waiting for Buffy to finish entering behind her, and thankful that Buffy had made sure the door swung shut silently, Willow gave both Buffy and Giles a mirthful grin.
Trying to make her voice sound deeper, Willow took a deep breath and then snapped out, “Attention!” Her eyes widened at Xander’s reaction.
The magazine flew one way as the chair he was sitting in was pushed back with such force it fell and skidded across the floor. Xander himself was up like a shot, standing rigidly at attention!
Willow’s voice carried easily in the silence that had descended upon the library. “Oops!”
Buffy covered her mouth with one hand, vainly trying to muffle the squeaking noise she was making while her eyes teared up. Giles just took his glasses off, thus allowing him to pinch the bridged of his nose while he shook his head in wonderment.
Xander stood there for a moment then, while still standing at attention, his head swiveled like a turret to meet Willow’s wide eye stare.
“Willow,” Xander said rather stiffly.
“Xander,” Willow replied quietly.
“That was mean,” Xander said in the same tone of voice.
“You mad?” Willow asked apprehensively.
Xander just stared at her for a moment in silence, and then, with a suddenness that stills took her by surprise at times, his brown eyes warmed up while a huge smile spread across his face. “Naaa,” he replied. “That was good, and I think you just got me back for several years’ worth of practical jokes!” He was still chuckling to himself as he went and retrieved the chair he had pushed over.
Willow let out a sigh of relief.
While Buffy was sitting down at the table, Giles moved out from behind the counter toward Willow and asked, “Willow, last night Xander informed me that you had something you needed to tell us. I believe it involves some residual effects from your costume possession?”
Her face reflecting the apprehension she was feeling, Willow nodded to Giles and then gestured him toward one of the chairs around the Library’s table. As he was seating himself, Willow stood at the head of the table with her hands held behind her back as she organized her thoughts, not knowing that she was mimicking a pose of Dominique’s when she addressed a board meeting.
Nodding to herself, Willow turned to face her friends, all the while keeping her hands behind her back. “You all are aware that last night I went as Dominique Destine.” Seeing the nods from the three people before her, she went on. “As Xander has so gracelessly demonstrated,” Willow gave him a small smile which he returned with a mock salute, “we have retained some aspects of our costumes. Now, before I go on, I need to give you a little background information about Dominique. She is known to have come from France, and she has an odd eccentricity: she is never seen at night.” Willow saw that what she said had piqued their interest!
Willow was surprised just how easily the words were coming to her. She focused her attention on the three before her as she continued, “It’s nothing Hellmouthy.” That was true! “Without violating her privacy, all I’m going to say is that something horrible happened to her in the past. Because of this, she suffers to a severe degree a combination of Noctiphobia and Anthropophobia.”
At this point, Buffy interrupted Willow’s explanation with a question. “Ok, Wills, I know having a phobia is being afraid of something, but what does that have to do with you?”
Xander nodded in agreement.
It was Giles who provided part of the answer to Buffy’s question himself. “Buffy, Xander, Anthropophobia is the fear of people, whereas Noctiphobia is the fear of the Night.” Suddenly, his eyes lit with understanding. He turned toward Willow compassionately. “I take it, Willow, since Ms. Destine seems to have no problems interacting with people during the day, it then only affects her at night?” He asked.
Smiling grimly as she nodded at him, Willow continued her prepared speech. “You’re correct, Giles. At night, Dominique locks herself in her Manor House and keeps all windows heavily curtained. All servants are sent home before sundown. It’s just plain impossible for her to be around anyone after dark, even friends or family.”
“Oh, Dear Lord, Willow,” Giles said, his voice made rough with strong emotion. “You suffer from this now, don’t you?” Both Buffy and Xander whipped their heads around first to stare in shock at Giles and, almost in unison, turned to stare in growing horror at Willow.
Willow forced herself to meet their eyes as she replied. She had to make them believe. “Yes, I do, which means from now on no more patrolling and no late night researching. Well, at least I can still do research at home.”
“Not even for a couple of hours for a movie or Bronzing?” Buffy asked quietly.
Willow didn’t have to fake the look of fear that crossed her face. “No, Buffy, I just can’t have anyone over at night or go out. I’ve talked to my parents, and they’re arranging treatment for me and have extended their trip to give me some time.” Talking to her parents was a part of the deception; luckily, they did extend their trip. They had told her that in an email several days ago. Willow still didn’t know what to do about them yet.
Giles frowned at what Willow had said about her parents’ trip. If it was his own daughter suffering like Willow was, by the Gods, he would be there for her. Even if it was just during the day!
“Can’t we fix this with a spell?” Xander asked. “I mean, it was a spell that did that to her.”
“No, we can’t,” Giles replied to Xander’s question. “Ethan had invoked Chaos magic, and, as the name implies, its effects are varied. This makes it nearly impossible to counter and terribly dangerous to try for the victim. Unfortunately, I’m afraid Willow will have to overcome this through her own perseverance.” Focusing his attention on Willow, he said, “Willow, if there is anything I can do to help you, please don’t hesitate to call upon me. Also, be aware that I shall search for any possible safe avenues to rectify your predicament.”
Both Buffy and Xander murmured their support to Willow, they both felt horrible for the best friend.
Willow smiled with relief at her friends. They had believed her, and because of that, they should be safe. Yet, seeing the sincerity of her friends’ feelings for her, Willow couldn’t help but feel loathing at herself for the deception.
Later In The Day
A van pulled up in front of Willow’s house; it had one of the many local tech service logos on its side. The kind of logo that really didn’t tell one what service exactly was offered. Two men calmly got out and proceeded up the sidewalk to the front door. Both carried nondescript tool boxes. When they reached the front porch, one of them looked at the clip board he had with him. Bending down, he seemed to get a key from under the welcome mat. Using the high tech lock pick the man had hidden in his hand, he was able to unlock the doors just as fast as if he had the actual key. Both men entered the house and then twenty minutes later, they both exited the premises and casually drove away.
Sunnydale Mall
Willow was glad she was able to get some time alone to do some shopping. Her friends would be surprised to see what she was contemplating buying to wear in her Gargoyle form. Ok, her friends would be even more surprised at her having a Gargoyle form! Looking at herself in the store’s mirror, she couldn’t help blushing at the amount of skin showing. What she finally settled on was a black leather skirt and top combo. The skirt was pleated and only reached mid thigh. The top itself began at the midpoint of her hips and curved up her front, leaving her stomach exposed, before meeting mid way between her belly button and her breasts. From there, it split once again to widen into rounded, diamond-shaped bra cups. The outfit finished with two silver chains that snaked from the top point of the diamond to end in back of her neck in a rather large clasp.
Another reason Willow chose this outfit was that it was fairly adjustable. She needed this because her measurements were different in her Gargoyle form. Willow was thankful she had thought to remeasure herself to see just how much of a difference there was before the sun rose. She went from her human measurements of 35-24-35 to what she boasted in her Gargoyle form, 37-26-38. Add in what she gained in height (five or six inches above her normal five foot four inches), and let’s just say she had to find something adjustable so she could have something that was wearable in both forms.
“Is everything satisfactory?” the sales lady who was in charge of the dressing area asked.
Smiling at her reflection, Willow answered, “Yes, completely satisfactory.” Turning to meet the sales woman’s eyes, Willow commented, “I’ll take two in black, and do you have any that matches my hair color?”
They did.
After leaving the leather shop, Willow made her way to the local jewelry store, where she was very happy to find a matching pair of silver arm and ankle bracelets plus earrings. All three sets were done in an oak leaf motif with a Pentagram as the center piece. Willow knew she was mimicking Demona quite a bit with the jewelry, but it just felt so right. A wicked smile spread across Willow’s face as she thought to herself, “By Scathach, I’m going to be looking hot tonight!” She came to a sudden stop in the middle of the mall, a puzzled look on her face. “Who is Scathach?” Willow asked herself.
Demona’s Manor
Between watching the youngling and talking to people on the phone, Demona’s day had been long and tedious. Checking the clock before she entered her Arcane Laboratory, Demona was pleased to see that she was in time to watch the youngling change into her Gargoyle form. Demona was disappointed that the morning transition was so rough on the girl; it had left Willow in too vulnerable a state. She was hoping the youngling’s Gargoyle body would be more vigorous in fighting off the aftereffects of this evening’s transition.
Demona was very impressed with the way Willow went about telling her friends the lie she had thought up. It was coolly logical, and yet played upon her friends’ feelings for her. She had wondered to herself how much of the youngling’s manipulative ability came from her, or if it had been present to begin with.
As Demona sat down before the scrying mirror, she softly chanted the words of activation, “Ostendo Sum.”
Demona felt her eyes widen in surprise at what the girl was wearing - the outfit and the jewelry. She was again surprised (this time at herself), for feeling slightly touched that the youngling was mirroring the adornments that she herself favored. Demona banished the distracting feelings from her mind when she saw Willow putting the folded towel once again into her mouth.
Demona didn’t even notice that as Willow changed, Demona herself was clenching her fist as she whispered words of encouragement. ‘Stay on your feet, child; stay on your feet!” She watched unblinkingly as Willow’s body contorted in agony. She watched as mid-way through the transformation, Willow dropped to one knee. She watched when the moment came that the transformation ran its course and Willow spit the towel onto the floor and stood up on only slightly shaking legs. Demona’s eyes brightened and a smile spread across her face as she watched Willow spread her wings and arms wide, while throwing her head back. Eyes flaring a deep red, Willow gave out the roar of an awakened Gargoyle.
Demona would have been horrified to know that the look reflected on her face was the same look mother’s throughout time had on hearing their child’s first cries.
Willow’s House, evening.
It had been a week since Halloween, and Willow admitted the evenings were getting harder on her nerves. Her friends tried to help all they could. Like last night, they researched an unknown Demon that had gotten away from Buffy. Willow was able to interact with her friend (for the most part) over the speakerphone; Giles had bought one for the Library later the same day Willow had told them of her misfortune. When the whole gang called her using the new phone that very night and told her what he had done, she just started to cry. Everyone had gotten choked up over her reaction; her friends just didn’t know she was crying out of shame instead of gratitude.
Thanks to Xander there had been a moment of humor that night; he jokingly started calling her “Charlie,” and she answered in kind by calling the three of them “Angels.” Though, Willow had a sneaking suspicion Xander didn’t like that moniker.
What was really getting to Willow, though, was the need to glide, to be out there surrounded by nothing but air and freedom. She felt so closed in at night. Willow could remember what it felt like to soar in the night sky, seeing the land so far below. The memories just couldn’t beat the real thing. That’s how, after an unexpected nap, Willow found herself standing on the roof of her house late in the evening. She had one of her black leather outfits on, plus the silver jewelry.
Willow closed her eyes as she spread her wings wide, catching the soft night time breeze on their sensitive membranes. She let herself become acclimated to the strange yet familiar stimuli that her wings made her feel. She could sense the minute difference in the temperature of the air hitting her wings. One wing tip had a barely felt tingle running across the outer edge.
Opening one eye a crack, Willow peeked in that direction. Ahh, Willow smiled to herself. She had correctly identified that feeling: there were power lines nearby. Closing her eye once again, Willow slowly turned in a full circle, keeping her wings spread wide. Willow sensed the tall presence of the tree to the side of her house, and she could tell where the roof ended just by how the breeze blew over it. Her wing membrane didn’t give her anything like the echo location ability of the comic book character Dare Devil. It did, though, give her a huge advantage while gliding and in a fight. They could sense the change in air pressure from an incoming blow. It was simply up to her to react in time.
Turning to face the end of the roof and her backyard, Willow took a deep breath and began to run with her wings partially folded back. She was aware of her heartbeat and the air rushing by, and then the edge was before her. With a powerful thrust of her legs, she was airborne! Willow’s heart felt like it was up in her throat as she lost a bit a height; then her instincts took over and she found herself soaring ever higher into the night sky. For the first time in Sunnydale history, pure joyful laughter fell from the evening sky.
“It is so quiet,” was Willow’s first thought when she leveled out high in the sky. Oh, sometimes she could hear a car horn, but other than that just blissful silence. She could smell the saltiness in the air brought in on the ocean breeze. Craning her head up, Willow was treated to a breathtaking panorama of the night sky filled with stars. Between her superior Gargoyle eyesight and being away from the light pollution from below, the stars were vivid and colorful. It was strange. Before Halloween, she had been slightly afraid of heights but look at her now! Willow gazed down in awe at the city below; the wind didn’t bother her eyes in the least. Her Gargoyle physiology came with a set of clear inner eyelids, and they acted as built-in goggles.
Willow was so engrossed in the sights she never noticed Demona following her from above and behind.
Demona
Demona was quite pleased to see Willow indulging in a purely Gargoyle past time. She recognized what Willow was going through by how Willow would act while gazing out the window at the night sky. Unconsciously, Willow’s wings and tail would flex and move as she imagined she was flying.
Demona grinned as she thought back over her activities for the past week. After she received the items from the two agents Demona had sent to Willow’s house, Demona was able to finalize her plan. What she found to be so deliciously humorous was the fact that, aside from a few things, everything else was perfectly legal. Demona was now ready for the final act to begin.
Earlier That Evening, Willow’s House.
Demona landed softly on Willow’s roof, covered by deep shadows. The peak of the roof hid her from the street, and it was dark enough that anyone in the backyard would be hard pressed to see her. After wedging the carry-all she brought with her against a vent pipe, Demona removed a small censer.
First, she lit the coals with a lighter. Once they had burned down, Demona added a pre-measured packet of herbs to them. Taking the censer by its chain, she swung it in a circular motion and softly chanting. Five minutes later, the spell was done. Anyone in the house would be fast asleep until she dispelled it - or sunrise occurred. Using a plastic bottle filled with water, Demona doused the coals. Once the censer was safe, she wrapped it in a plastic bag and returned it to the carry-all.
Demona silently made her way down to the balcony door that led to Willow’s room. She used the same technique Willow had done on that faithful Halloween night to open the French Doors; though, it only took her a few seconds compared to the several minutes it had taken Willow. Stepping through the doors, Demona was treated to her first real life look at Willow. The harshness slowly faded from Demona’s face as she laid her eyes on the girl’s form. Willow was sleeping on her stomach with her wings hanging off the bed to either side.
Setting the carry-all gently on the floor, Demona made her way to the side of the bed. She crouched down and gazed intently at Willow’s relaxed features. Reaching out with slightly trembling claws, Demona ran them gently through the youngling’s hair. Willow murmured softly at the caress but remained asleep and under the spell’s effect. Demona knew her strong feelings she had for the youngling were a bit extreme. However, she couldn’t shake the feeling this was her second chance. Demona didn’t believe in Fate or put any trust in the Gods, but this situation with Willow had the sense of the Profoundabout it. She stood at a crossroads.
One path continued her vendetta against the human race, but she would be forever alone. The other path used humans to better guard the Hellmouth, and, in turn, protect her own kind. But she would never forgive them for the calamity they sowed upon her race; no… never forgive. Standing up, Demona picked up the carry-all from the floor and left the bedroom. She had some tasks in the house to take care of.
About an hour later, Demona reentered the bedroom with a wicked smile on her face. Demona’s smile transformed into something far softer when she laid eyes on the still-sleeping Willow. She decided to investigate the youngling’s room even though she had seen it through the scrying mirror.
She first went to Willow’s laptop. Turning it on and punching in Willow’s password, she started browsing. She quickly found Willow’s journal and, taking a floppy disk from a side pocket on the carry-all, Demona copied Willow’s journal onto it. After returning the floppy to the pocket, Demona examined the sites Willow liked to go on the internet. Looking through the browser’s history, Demona wasn’t surprised at what she found. Demon data bases to web sites catering to students doing research.
Then a web page name caught her eye. Clicking on it, Demona was taken off guard by the site’s topic. Glancing quickly over the history once again, Demona found web sites of a similar theme. It didn’t really change anything for Demona and her plans; it just gave her a better understanding of Willow. She shut down the laptop. She had spent more time than she felt comfortable with on the computer, and there was one last thing she wanted to look at.
Demona made her way over to the far corner where Willow had set up an Altar to Scathach. Crouching down to get a better look, she ran her eyes over the arrangement. Demona was pleased at the diligence to detail she saw. She could tell Willow had spent time and effort on it.
The Altar cloth was of Scottish weave. The two crossed short swords were very real and, judging by their look, very well kept. The small bronze cauldron was also of Scottish design. Demona smiled to herself at the small first aid kit laid out on the Altar, along with an embossing hammer. Opening her Mage Sight, Demona was surprised at the potent aura of Divinity radiating from the Altar. Demona frowned and decided that was something she would have to investigate later.
When Demona took her last look at Willow, she was struck by a sudden impulse. Stepping over to the side of the bed, Demona bent over and brushed aside Willow’s red hair, bestowing a tender kiss on the little horns revealed. Demona was shocked to stillness when a clawed hand grasped the wrist of the hand that was holding the hair back.
Demona let her eyes drop to Willow’s face and was relieved to see she was still asleep. Feeling a slight tug, Demona watched in bemusement as Willow pulled her hand down to her face. Her eyes teared when Willow pressed the back of Demona’s hand against her nose and mouth. She could feel the deep breath Willow took as she drew in Demona’s scent. Demona watched as a slight tremor ran the length of Willow’s body. Afterward, Willow sank a little more into the bed as an unseen tension left her.
For the next ten minutes, Demona stayed in an awkward pose as she reveled in the sensation of the youngling’s breath playing over her skin. At times, Willow’s lips would brush the skin on the back of Demona’s hand as she murmured in her sleep. Demona found herself loath to withdraw her hand when it came time to go. As she gently pried her wrist loose from Willow’s grasp, Demona leaned close to the exposed ear and whispered, “Forgive me for the suffering I’m about to cause you. Please understand that there is pain in all births, and you, my dear, are about to be reborn.”
Willow was actually humming to herself as she fixed breakfast. Gliding last night was just what she needed; she hasn’t felt this relaxed since Halloween. Willow was just setting the plate of eggs on the kitchen table next to her glass of milk when the door bell rang. Willow waited for a moment, thinking Buffy chose to ring the bell instead of knocking before entering. When the bell rang a second time, she knew it wasn’t Buffy, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that came over her. Opening the door a crack, Willow was frightened to see a man and a woman dressed in suits and behind them stood several police officers!
When Willow fully opened the door, the woman stepped forward and asked gently, “Are you Willow Rosenberg?”
“Yes,” Willow nervously replied.
Giving Willow a soft smile, the woman said, “My name is Cathy Grimes, and this is my partner, Joseph Leugers. We’re with Child Protection Services.” Seeing Willow’s eyes filled with fear and confusion, Cathy rushed to comfort her. “Honey, you’re not in any kind of trouble, but you do need to come with us for awhile to answer some questions.” As the agent spoke, she moved forward to take one of Willow’s arms and to gently move her away from the door and onto the porch.
“Now listen, my partner and I have a search warrant for your parents’ personal files and things. It would be a big help if you told me where they are kept,” Cathy told her in a calm and even tone of voice.
In a daze, Willow complied. She even provided the combination to her Dad’s safe and the passwords to both parents’ computers.
After Joseph and the two officers went into her house with several empty cardboard boxes, Willow gathered her frazzled nerves together to ask in a shaking voice, “M-my parents, d-did something happened to them?”
Cathy’s eyes filled with sadness as she answered Willows question. “Oh sweetie, I’m sorry to say they must’ve gotten wind of the court proceedings and fled the country.” Cathy hated telling her, but, in situations like this, honesty really was the best policy. The look of loss and abandonment in Willow’s eyes was still heart wrenching.
“W-where did-d they g-go?” Willow asked in a shaking voice; she felt so cold that she was literally shivering.
“Israel.” Cathy saw Willow was going into shock so she had her sit down on the front steps and lean her head forward while taking slow and even breaths. As this was going on, Cathy caught sight of a blonde girl walking hurriedly up the walkway towards them.
After a while, Willow was able to straighten up to meet Buffy’s concerned gaze. Willow was up off the steps and into Buffy’s arms before she was even aware of her actions.
Buffy patiently held Willow as she cried into her shoulder. When Willow calmed a little, Buffy asked quietly, “Willow, what happened?”
Willow pulled back from Buffy and looked at her. Her face was red and splotchy from the crying. Her voice still trembling, Willow answered, “My parents - they’re gone, Buffy.”
Buffy gave Willow a quick hug then, with a glance at the woman beside Willow on the steps, Buffy turned her attention back to her best friend. “Was it ahh… gang related?” Buffy hated to asked, but if Willow’s parents got turned, she was going to make sure they were dust before they could cause Willow any trouble.
“No, they just ran away,” Willow said in a despairing voice.
Buffy blinked from the sudden derailing of her train of thought. In a hesitant voice, Buffy said, “Why did they run away?”
Willow’s forehead scrunched up in thought then she turned to Cathy. “You said court proceedings. What proceedings?”
Cathy hesitated a moment as she glanced at Buffy then back to Willow. “You’re sure you want your friend to hear this?” Getting a nod from Willow, she continued, “The primary charges are child neglect, endangerment of a minor and now abandonment.”
Willow felt herself getting light headed again, and then the world went horizontal when Buffy picked her up in her arms.
Cathy felt her eyebrows rise up in shock as the small blonde picked up the taller girl without any apparent effort and cradled Willow in her arms. When the blonde turned toward the house, Cathy put her hand out to stop her. She suddenly found herself taking a step back when the blonde’s head snapped around and the deadliest looking eyes she had ever seen drilled into her own. Trying to maintain a calm sounding voice while holding her hands out in a placating gesture, Cathy said, “We’re here to help her.” Cathy saw Willow whisper something to her friend. Cathy let her breath out when she saw the blonde relaxing her stance from whatever Willow had said.
Gesturing toward her car, Cathy said, “If you would, please, let’s get your friend seated in my car.” Cathy waited with baited breath as the blonde looked to Willow for conformation and, on receiving a slight nod, turned and made her way to the car. Cathy hurried ahead and was able to have the passenger door open, allowing the blonde to settle Willow in the front seat. Hearing voices behind her, Cathy turned to see Joseph and the two officers exit the house with their arms full. Leaving the car door open so the blonde could crouch by her friend, Cathy made her way to the trunk and opened it for the evidence to be put inside.
She and Joseph both thanked the officers after they had put the parents’ computers in the trunk. She could tell Joseph had something to say but remained silent until the officers left in their own patrol car. Joseph reached into the still open trunk to retrieve a purse out of the box of files he had carried out. Handing it to her he said, “It’s clean; though, I’d like to know why a Jewish girl would be carrying a cross, a bottle of Holy Water, and a very sharp wooden stake.” He enjoyed the dumbfounded look on his partner’s face.
“Are you serious?” Cathy replied.
“Yeah, and get this: when I looked through her bedroom,” even though the warrant only allowed the physical search of the parents’ things, they were allowed to look for anything out in the open that could be used in the case, “she has an Occult Altar set up in there. There were two small but very real swords.”
“Well, we were told she wasn’t main stream in her religion,” Cathy replied with a small frown.
“I guess so,” Joseph said with a shake of his head while he shut the lid to the car’s trunk. Cocking an eyebrow at her, he asked, “You driving?”
“Yes, I think it would be best if I was upfront with her; she’s pretty shaken,” Cathy answered back.
With a nod, he handed her the keys and tilted his head in the toward the passenger side of the car. “Who’s the blonde?”
“A very close friend, and, Joseph, be careful around her. I really believe she could be a threat if provoked,” Cathy stated quite firmly.
“OK.” Joseph believed her; he had a high regard for Cathy’s judgment of people.
It wasn’t long before they headed to the City’s Courthouse; the blonde - whose name was Buffy (what kind of name was Buffy?) - asked where they were taking Willow. Cathy answered her, and Buffy then informed Willow she was getting both her Mom and someone named Giles to meet them there.
The drive was quiet; though, Willow did have tears running down her face throughout the entire drive. They used the Courthouse’s parking garage. The lawyer had recommended this avenue to save Willow from any embarrassment as they walked through the crowded front entrance. Joseph stayed with the car so as not to break the iChain of Evidence/i. Once Cathy reached their floor, she would send others down to help him unload.
While they waited for the elevator, Cathy turned to Willow and began to explain what was to happen next. “Willow, when we get upstairs we will meet with a lawyer who has volunteered to be your legal counsel during questioning.” She paused a moment when the elevator arrived and they entered. After choosing the floor they needed, she continued her explanation. “Now again, Willow, I want to assure you you’re not in any kind of trouble. The lawyer is here to make sure you’re not led or pressured in giving evidence since you are a minor without any legal guardians at this time. Do you understand?” Cathy felt for the poor girl and wanted to lessen as much of the stress of the situation as possible.
Willow slowly nodded her head; everything seemed kind of surreal at the moment and Willow now fully understood the phrase: “A waking nightmare.” This was far worse than Halloween when she was turned into a Gargoyle. That thought made her ask a question, even though she was dreading the answer. “What will happen to me afterward?”
This was the part Cathy wasn’t looking forward to. “Well, you will become a ward of the State of California and placed into foster care. With your age, you also have the chance for emancipation. Your counsel can help you with the emancipation process if you decide that’s what you want to do.” Willow nodded in return when the elevator arrived at their floor with a ding and the doors opened for them.
Exiting the elevator, Cathy led them first to the reception desk, where she asked to have some helped sent down to Joseph. Then she took Willow to the room that had been set aside for them and where the lawyer was waiting for them. She stopped just outside the closed door and turned to Willow. “OK, there is one last thing I want to explain to you. Before we start any questioning, you and the Lawyer will be given some time alone so he can explain your legal rights. I’ll be leaving the door open, but I’ll be across the hall. That’s just standard procedure.” Resting her hand on Willow’s shoulder Cathy asked, “You’re ready?”
“Yeah,” Willow replied softly.
Giving Willow a smile in support, Cathy opened the door; they were met by the sight of a fairly young but good looking man with longish dark hair in a very nice suit.
He closed the folder he perused and put it into his open briefcase when he heard the door opened. Standing up, he gave Willow a charming smile and offered her his hand as he introduced himself. “Hello, my name is Lindsey McDonald, and I’ll be your legal counsel for today.” After shaking Willow’s hand, Lindsey seated Willow in a chair next to his and thanked Cathy for her help.
Cathy positioned herself across the hallway so she was able to see both Willow and Lindsey. She was just starting to relax when she was startled to see her Supervisor coming toward her. She wondered what brought him all the way from the home office in Sacramento. She frowned in puzzlement as he waved a Med Tech into the room where Willow was, and then he turned to her and began to speak. “Guess what? I got a call from the Governor this morning, and you wouldn’t believe what he had to say…”
Afterward, Cathy had to admit to herself that he was right.
Lindsey gave Willow a warm smile as he sat down beside her and asked, “Is it alright if I call you Willow?”
Willow gave him a bashful smile and a nod.
“OK then, please, call me Lindsey. First off,” he glanced over her shoulder toward the open door, “we just need you to allow this young lady here take a swabbing of the inside of your cheek.”
Willow looked up in confusion as a woman in a lab coat came in, setting a case on the table and opening it. The lab tech gave Willow a kindly smile as she proceeded to put on a pair of latex gloves; she then removed several sealed test tubes with long cotton swabs in each. After warning Willow that this might feel a bit uncomfortable, she took swabbing of both inner cheeks. As the lab tech left the room with the samples, Willow turned to Lindsey with a look of bafflement on her face and asked, “What was that for?”
Patting her hand, Lindsey replied, “You know how the state worries about drug use in teens today.” It wasn’t really an answer to what Willow asked, but in her current state of mind, it was enough to leave her bewildered. Her confusion gave Lindsey time for the next step of his client’s plan.
Turning to his briefcase, Lindsey said, “I hope you don’t mind, but, I figure with what kind of morning you’ve had, you could use something warm to drink.” Reaching behind the open lid of his briefcase, he withdrew two mochas from the Espresso Pump. Handing one of the cups to her, he said, “I hope you like mochas; I just took a wild guess and figure one can’t go wrong with caffeinated chocolaty goodness.” Once again, the client was correct - using that description put Willow in a bit more relax mood, and she accepted the drink far more readily.
With another bashful smile and a quiet, “thank you,” Willow accepted the cup from him and took a long, deep drink. She never noticed the taste of the mystical drug that was in it.
As Willow drank her mocha, Lindsey began going over her legal rights. He kept a sharp eye on her as the drug slowly took effect, and his voice began to take on a slow and even cadence. One of the drug’s primary effects was vastly increasing the subject’s susceptibility to post hypnotic suggestions. When he could tell she was ready, he began giving her the commands that his client had written down. Lindsey made sure not to deviate in any way - for two reasons. First, the client had insisted he wear a microphone. Second, he still had some honor left. Once he was done, he told Willow to act normally unless it went counter to any commands she had been given.
Willow blinked a few time.
“You all right?” her lawyer, Mr. McDonald, asked.
Blushing, she replied, “Yeah, kind of zoned out there; sorry!”
He gave her a compassionate smile and said, “That’s perfectly understandable. Do you feel up to the questioning?”
After telling him yes, Willow watched as Mr. McDonald went to the door to tell them they were ready. Willow recognized Ms. Grimes but didn’t recognize the man that followed her in.
The first thing Cathy did when she entered the room was get a microphone, tape recorder, and tapes from the cabinet in the corner. After setting the equipment down in the center of the table, Cathy sat herself down. She smiled tightly at Willow, still reeling from what her Supervisor had told her. Cathy asked Willow how she was doing and got a quiet, “ok,” from her. Cathy commence with the interview.
After turning on the tape recorder and recording the date, time, and people present, she said to Willow, “Willow this is my supervisor, Robert Bass, and he’ll be sitting in on the interview just as an observer. Now, do you fully understand all of your rights and what this investigation is about?”
“Yes,” Willow replied.
Giving Willow a more natural smile this time, she continued her questioning. “Willow, can you tell me when the first time Mr. and Mrs. Rosenberg left you home alone for an extended period of time?”
Willow thought for a moment then unexpectedly blushed. “Oh, it was when I had the accident with my birthday cake; it was my eighth birthday. They left a week before my birthday and didn’t return until two weeks afterward. They had prearranged for my birthday cake to be delivered on my birthday.”
Cathy asked, “Was anyone hurt in the accident?”
“Hurt?” Willow’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, no one was hurt. You see, my friends Xander and Jessie were over for my birthday. Well, they wanted to light the candles on the cake, but I had said no because we weren’t allowed to play with matches. I remember being sad because I couldn’t blow out the candles like before. Xander got an idea; he and Jessie made little flames out of color paper. They then taped them onto the candles’ wicks. Well, you see, they said I had to blow them all off or no birthday wish.”
Willow looked slightly abashed as she continued her story. “So I blew and blew - even when the spots started to appear in front of my eyes, I blew. Xander told me later that I was blowing really hard when suddenly my eyes rolled up into the back of my head. My lips were still puckered from blowing, and I toppled face first into the cake. I think if they wouldn’t have pulled my face out of the cake, I would’ve suffocated. After Xander and Jessie got me awake we ate the icing off my face using our fingers.” Willow smiled to herself at the fond memories of her, Xander, and their late friend Jessie.
Cathy and Robert just sat there with bright eyes as they tried very hard not to laugh; this was a serious matter.
It didn’t help that Willow’s lawyer had his elbow on the table while his hand covered his mouth. He was turned away from Willow, acting as if he was looking for something in his briefcase. After a few moments, he got control of himself and faced them once again with his professional demeanor in place; although, his eyes, too, were a bit shiny.
Cathy noticed Willow was sitting quietly with her hands folded together in front of her. Cathy had seen this reaction before; it was the body’s reaction to stress - the mind simply goes numb. She’d rather see this reaction than hysterics like in some of her cases.
Clearing her throat, Cathy made sure her voice was under control. “OK, Willow, can you recall the next time you were left at home unsupervised for an extended period of time?”
Willow could recall the next time and the next and the next. Several hours later no one in that room or in any other part of the building who had been listening in felt like laughing anymore.
When Willow finished with her testimony, Cathy quietly turned off the tape recorder and removed the partially used tape. After writing the case number, the date, and the time, she put it in the large envelope with the others. Giving Willow a tired smile, she said, “Now, Willow, I have to deliver these to Joseph, but I’ll be right back. Mr. Bass will be across the hall like I was earlier, so if you have any questions to ask Mr. McDonald you can in privacy.”
Willow nodded. “OK. Thanks.”
After the two social workers left the room, Lindsey used the time to quietly reinforce a few of the command. It was especially important that she remained under control with what was coming next. When he was finishing up, Lindsey saw the lab tech arrive and hand Mr. Bass a folder. Bass immediately began to read its contents. When he was done, he looked up to meet Lindsey’s eyes and gave him a nod with large smile. Lindsey replied in kind; he already knew what the results were going to be but had to play along.
This morning while they were picking up Willow, Mr. Bass had taken Lindsey aside to explain to him the special circumstances surrounding Willow and the case. Lindsey, of course, acted surprise at it all and told him he was pleased to be of any help to them or the young lady.
Lindsey saw Ms. Grimes return from her errand and her boss tell her the news. Afterward, Mr. Bass himself left to get the client. When that happened, Lindsey said softly into the air, “Get ready; they’ll be coming for you.” This was prearranged by the client to give them time to prepare. After several minutes had gone by, Lindsey saw his client arrive with Ms. Grimes. He made sure not to show any recognition. He had spent an exhausting day with her yesterday as she made sure he knew exactly what he was to do.
Leaving the newcomer out in the hall, Mr. Bass and Cathy came back into the room. This time there was an undercurrent of excitement to them. After closing the door, they both sat down. Cathy leaned forward and said to Willow, “Willow, Robert here has something very special he needs to explain to you, so please listen carefully.”
Robert cleared his throat before talking. “Willow, did you know that you were adopted?” he asked.
“No,” Willow dazedly replied.
“We found the adoption papers in the Rosenberg’s personal files. You actually have dual citizenship because you were born in France. At the age of ten, your real mother’s parents were killed in a house fire. She was taken in and raised by a friend of her parents. When your mother was fifteen, she became pregnant; though, she was planning to marry your father.
Unfortunately, he was killed in an accident before they married. After she had given birth to you, her guardians took you away from her because they didn’t want an out-of-wedlock child under their roof. Your mother was furious at their actions, and when she was recovered enough, she left them. All she knew was that the couple who took you was named Rosenberg, and they were Jewish. She searched for you for years but finally admitted defeat.
Later in her life, she became very wealthy and influential. She then hired some discreet investigators to find you. Please understand, Willow, all she wanted to do was make sure you were happy; she wasn’t planning to take you from your parents. But when you were found and she saw how you had been treated all those years, she felt compelled to act.” Robert could tell the girl was badly shaken by the revelation of her actual background. She had tears running down her face and was visibly shaking. Her lawyer leaned close to her and spoke soothingly to her while resting his hand on her shoulder. Slowly, she seemed to calm down.
Inside, Willow was screaming in horror and rage. She knew who was behind all of this, and that the lawyer was working for HER! The filthy human would die for what he had done to her. She didn’t know if it was drugs or some spell, but in her mind’s eye, she could visualize the hypnotic suggestions as chains binding her consciousness. Choosing a link from one of the many chains, Willow began focusing her Will against it. Then something caught her attention from the outside; the man across from her had asked her something, and she had replied with a, “yes”.
Willow watched helplessly as Cathy got up to go to the door. After opening it, she called to someone on the other side. Cathy stepped back to allow the other person room to enter, and then SHE walked through the door. Dominique Destine, also known has Demona, met Willow’s eyes with her own triumph-filled ones as she spoke. “Hello, Willow, my daughter.”
Inside of Willow’s mind, she roared in rage and a chain snapped.
It took everyone by surprise when Willow suddenly gave an inarticulate cry as she half fell and half lunged at Dominique. Dominique was just able to catch Willow before her upper body hit the floor. Dropping to her knees, Dominique gathered the girl up in her arms, pressing Willow’s head against her chest to hide the look of absolute rage covering Willow’s face. Dominique could tell Willow hadn’t gained control over her legs, but by the feel of Willow’s fingers digging brutally into her sides, she’d gotten some control of her arms. Dominique felt so very proud of Willow’s strength of mind - the sheer tenacity she’d shown to break through the drugs’ mystical bindings were astounding!
Looking up at the three humans now standing around the table, Dominique said with true compassion coloring her voice, “Could you please give my daughter and me some time alone?”
Unsurprisingly, it was Mr. McDonald who answered first. “Of course, Ms. Destine.” Closing his briefcase and picking it up, he continued, “We’ll just wait in the hall while you and your daughter become acquainted.”
Seeing that both Ms. Grimes and her supervisor, Mr. Bass, were about to protest, Dominique cut them off, “I’ll be sure, when next I talk with the Governor, to tell him just how much help you and your people have been in reuniting my daughter and I, Mr. Bass.” Her voice carried both a promise and a threat. She could tell Mr. Bass understood the message completely. Dominique looked on as he gave her a sharp nod and gently but firmly took Ms. Grimes by the elbow and escorted her out. Mr. McDonald quietly shut the door as he followed.
Dominique scooted around so she was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall, Willow’s head cradled on her lap. “Now that’s enough of that,” Dominique brusquely said to Willow as she pried Willow’s hands away from her sides. Once done, she crossed their wrists over Willow’s breasts and held them there.
Bending down so she was face to face with Willow, Dominique growled out, “Stop your struggling or Buffy dies.”
Willow immediately stilled.
Dominique settled back against the wall as she released Willow’s wrists. She watched as Willow just let her arms thump to the floor while still glaring at Dominique. Returning the glare with a smile, Dominique said, “Willow, I want you to know how very proud I am of you.” She saw Willow’s eyes widen a bit in surprise and confusion. “The explanation you gave your friends on why you couldn’t be seen at night was brilliant. I know,” at this point Dominique started to lightly trail two fingers across Willow’s brow, “you hated to mislead them, but you did it to protect them from me. You were willing to sacrifice yourself in order to protect your Clan. I can fully understand those feelings. Because of your actions, your friends are safe from me for now.”
Dominique watched as relief filled Willow’s eyes. Meeting those eyes, Dominique began speaking in a compassionate voice. “Willow, I want you to understand something. Aside from me not being your birth mother and France your birthplace, everything else is true. You were adopted, but from the local hospital. Their records show you were found in the emergency room entrance. They estimated you were about a week old; I found all this out when I took the original files. With this being the Hellmouth, you were lucky to be found at all.”
Dominique felt Willow jerk at the mention of the Hellmouth. Still caressing Willow’s brows as if she was an upset youngling, Dominique went on to explain in a gentle voice, “I’ve watched you since you first woke up as a Gargoyle through my Scrying Mirror. I’ve learned a great deal from you about the Slayer, her Watcher, and your best friend Xander. Because of you, I found out the Hellmouth was real and to adequately protect it I need to give up my crusade against humans. You see, Willow, if the Hellmouth should open, our people would suffer, too. By myself, I could not sufficiently protect it, but you and your Scooby Gang,” she smirked at the name, “can and have successfully protected it for several years. I now find myself needing humanity kept alive. Oh, don’t get me wrong.” Dominique’s face grew grim as she went on, “if a human gets in my way, I will have absolutely no qualms about killing it.”
Dominique once again leaned in close to Willow’s face to stare deeply into her eyes. Dominique voice, when she spoke, was full of passion. “Willow, through me you can give your friends a better chance at surviving the Hellmouth. I can supply training, weapons, and literally the best medical help there is. But understand me, Willow, your friends’ continuing survival is governed by your actions. As long as you stay with me, I have no need to eliminate them as a potential threat. Do we have an understanding?”
As she was talking, Dominique watched as Willow’s eyes filled with defeat. Yet in their depths she saw a simmering rage; this pleased her. Dominique didn’t want to break Willow’s spirit. She merely had to keep her under control until she was away from her friends. Once she saw Willow give a nod of acceptance, Dominique told Willow, “Once you stop trying to fight the commands placed upon you, you will be able to act normally.” Dominique watched as Willow closed her eyes, and she could feel Willow taking deep, calming breaths. After a few moments had passed, she could tell the commands were back in control by the change in Willow’s posture and expression. “Can you stand?” Dominique asked Willow.
In reply, Willow stood up, though her legs were a little unsteady. She just stood there with a sullen expression on her face as she watched Dominique stand up herself.
Once Dominique had straightened her clothes, she faced Willow. “One more thing Willow. We are going back to New York for two weeks to get things settled - there and here.” Seeing a spark of interest from that last comment, Dominique raised an eyebrow while giving Willow a slight smirk. “You didn’t think I’d take you away from your friends, did you? How else would I be able to guide them to better guard the Hellmouth?”
“Come,” Dominique ordered while she held her hand out to Willow. For a second, Willow’s eyes filled with anger then faded back to a more stunned look. When Willow took her hand in her own, Dominique was pleased Willow had chosen not to fight for now. She let her keep the sullen look on her face, figuring that wouldn’t be an inappropriate reaction to the circumstances. After tucking Willow’s hand in the crook of her arm, Dominique opened the door and exited the room with Willow at her side.
On entering the hallway, they were met by Mr. Bass and Ms. Grimes. The lawyer hung back. Looking concerned, Mr. Bass asked Dominique, “Is everything alright, Ms. Destine?”
Dominique saw out of the corner of her eye Ms. Grimes studying Willow with a look of sympathy. Turning her attention back to Mr. Bass, she answered, “Everything is fine, or,” with a look of compassion, Dominique continued, “as fine as the circumstances would warrant. Willow,” Dominique didn’t have to fake the look of tenderness as she glanced at Willow, giving her hand a soft squeeze, “is a Destine, and we Destines are a very tough breed.”
Lindsey stood unobtrusively in the background, waiting while Ms Destine talked to Mr. Bass. He happened to meet Willow’s eyes. He suddenly found himself taking an involuntary step back at the frightening amount of fury there, and, so fleetingly he wasn’t sure he really saw it, those eyes flared red.
Ms. Destine must have sense something was wrong. She interrupted Mr. Bass to turn to Willow, apparently to ask her something. Willow replied was a sullen head shake, and Ms. Destine patted Willow’s hand that wrapped around her arm. Turning back to Mr. Bass and Ms. Grimes, she wished them farewell. As Ms. Destine walked away, she nodded at Lindsay and said to him, “Mr. McDonald, I have some question to ask you. If it’s no problem, I’ll give you a ride back to Los Angeles while we talk.”
Lindsey was able to hide his surprise at the thinly veiled order; technically, she was still his client until the end of the day. Giving her one of his charming smiles, he replied, “It would be an honor, Ms. Destine, and don’t worry about my car; it’s a rental. I’ll just notify the company to send someone to pick it up.” Grabbing his briefcase, Lindsey caught up to the two of them. He and Ms. Destine bracketed Willow as they walked toward the elevator.
Inside the elevator, Ms. Destine pulled out and slipped over her ear one of the new hands-free cell phones. He was surprised she didn’t even dial before speaking, “We are coming down; everyone in position?” She paused then went on.“Excellent. You will have my daughter and one other to escort to my car. What is the location of the targets?” Another pause.“I’ll signal if intervention is needed, out.” With that, she put the phone back in her pocket.
Turning to Willow, Ms. Destine spoke, “Willow, your friends are waiting in the lobby; you are not to speak to them in any way. You will go with Mr. McDonald to my car and wait for me there. Do you understand me?” When all she received was a sullen nod, Ms. Destine spoke in a sterner voice, “Answer me yes or no, do you understand?”
She seemed satisfied with the, “yes,” spoken through Willow’s gritted teeth.
On exiting the elevator, two of her security personnel smoothly stepped to either side of Willow and Mr. McDonald and began walking them across the semi-crowded lobby toward the exit. Dominique stayed by the elevator so she could watch how Willow’s friends reacted to her sudden appearance and her apparent captivity. They all stared in bewilderment at first as their eyes followed Willow and her escort.
Xander was the first to react, moving quickly forward as he called out, “WILLOW!”
Dominique watched Willow as she reacted with a slight jerk to Xander calling her name.
Mr. McDonald, on seeing Willow’s reaction, put his hand on the middle of her back to help hurry her along.
Dominique was angered by his actions; with Gargoyle physiology, the flesh along the backbone and between the wings was an erogenous zone. He was inadvertently groping her daughter. Ahh… Dominique smiled to herself when she saw Willow’s head snap around toward Mr. McDonald with her teeth bard in a snarl worthy of a Gargoyle.
Mr. McDonald jerked his hand back in a speedy manner.
Dominique focused her attention back on Willow’s friends and was in time to see one of her security personnel block Xander from his charge toward Willow. Dominique was glad she had brought them along; they allowed her better control of the situation. Also, since all of them were recruited from different Special Forces units from around the world, she knew they could handle most mundane (and even some supernatural) situations.
Deciding it was time to take personal control, Dominique strode imperiously across the lobby toward the group, her heels making loud clicking noises on the slate tile floor.
Dominique smiled to herself when she saw the Slayer start to head toward Willow and was consequentially stopped by her own mother. Giles was the first to notice her approaching. He proceeded to call the others’ attention to her. Dominique notices that when Xander saw her, he got a puzzled look on his face. She guessed Willow must have shown him her picture. Though, he apparently didn’t recognize her; she must simply seem familiar.
When she got close enough, it was, unsurprisingly, Buffy who spoke first. “Where are you taking Willow?”
Dominique answered her with a touched of arrogance in her voice. “Why, our home, of course.” Ignoring the astonished looks at her reply, Dominique said in a quieter voice (so as not to be heard outside of the group), “Don’t worry, though. Once our new home here is ready for us, we’ll be moving to Sunnydale, and Willow will still be able to help you in your Slaying.” Dominique watched as both Giles and Xander darted glances at Mrs. Summers, while Buffy paled.
Dominique looked on as Mrs. Summers turned to her daughter with a look of both sadness and regret. “Oh, Buffy, not that again.”
Buffy turned jerkily to face her mother, and with eyes wide with fear, started to reply. “Mom, it’s not… I…”
It amused Dominique to see the Council’s vaunted Slayer turned into a stuttering fool before her mother’s aggravation. The twin looks of bafflement on both the Watchers and Willow’s friend Xander’s faces were entertaining in itself. But the day was wasting, and she had much to do before sundown. Dominique interrupted the Slayer’s dismal attempt at denial by speaking to Mrs. Summers herself “Mrs. Summers,” on catching the woman’s attention, she continue speaking in a slightly condescending tone, “I personally have known about the supernatural for many years, and when Willow explained to me what she and her friends have been involved in these past several years… Well, let’s just say having her committed never crossed my mind.”
Mrs. Summers reacted as if she had been slapped. Giles’ expression went from bafflement to understanding to anger. Xander clearly didn’t understand what Dominique was referring to, and Buffy’s expression was caught between shame and a growing hostility toward Dominique.
It had made Dominique very happy that the background checks she ordered on all of them had come up with that little tidbit. Before coming to Sunnydale Buffy had told both of hers, then still married parents about being a Slayer and was subsequently drugged and put into a mental hospital.
Dominique was puzzled that Giles was still at the British Museum then; clearly, she was missing something. If the Council had known about their Slayer having been committed, they would have rectified the situation immediately. Mentally shrugging her shoulders, Dominique brought her attention back to the present. Just in time, it seemed, for Giles was focusing his gaze upon her.
“How was it that you were able to gain custody of Willow?” Giles demanded in a threatening voice. It surprised Dominique at just how dangerous the mild mannered librarian seemed. Interesting…very interesting.
Matching his glare with one of her own, Dominique got right up to his face and replied with scorn lacing her voice, “How was it that you, Watcher, never noticed how often Willow’s adopted parents weren’t home? How many times was she dropped off hurting from patrol and had to take care of herself?”
Taking a step back so she was able to look at them all, Dominique went on to say, “As for why I have custody of Willow - there’s a very simple reason for that. The DNA test proved she’s my daughter.”
With that last statement, Dominique left them standing in stunned silence as she turned and made her way out of the building. As she walked away from the group, her security detail moved to cover her exit. She smiled to herself; the confrontation had gone better than she expected. Dominique had effectively stonewalled the Slayer and her watcher by using the Slayer’s mother as a distraction. If Mrs. Summers hadn’t shown up, Dominique would have simply left through the parking garage. She had wanted the confrontation to happen, though, for two reasons. The first reason was to simply leave the group in disarray, allowing Dominique to remove Willow without conflict. The second reason was to let the Slayer’s mother in on the reality of her daughter’s calling. It was one less distraction for the Slayer. That, in turn, made the Slayer more efficient in guarding the Hellmouth.
She was almost to the door when she heard, “Please, I’ve got something to tell you about Willow.” It was Xander who had called out. Turning, she waved for the security personnel to allow him through. When he got close enough, he asked with concern, “Did you know that Willow has phobias of the night and people?”
Dominique smiled to herself when he asked that; he truly cared about Willow. From what she had read in Willow’s journal, Xander and their late friend Jessie were the only things that had kept Willow sane.
Giving him a kind smile, she answered, “Yes, I do, Xander, because she inherited them from me.” Dominique watched Xander’s eyes widen in surprise. “If it wasn’t for Halloween, I would have never found her. Xander… Willow and I can spend the nights together.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “It will be nice not to be alone in the night anymore.” Dominique took a step closer to Xander and reached out to grasp his shoulder. “Once things have settled down between the Slayer and her mother,” she said, shooting a glance at Mrs. Summers, “tell them how your father abuses you.”
Dominique tightened her grasp when she felt Xander start to pull away. Tone softer, she continued, “If not for you then do it for Willow.” She could tell that had caught his attention. “When she gets adjusted to her new life, how do you think she will feel knowing what you are still going through?” She watched a myriad of emotions play across his face then finally settling on acceptance. Giving his shoulder a quick squeeze and a compassionate smile, she then made her way out the lobby doors to her car. She hoped Xander would follow through. If he did, it would help her gain Willow’s forgiveness and trust.
Leaving Sunnydale
Willow was staring out of the limousine’s window as they passed the “Now Leaving Sunnydale” sign. She felt so numb; it was really dawning on her just how well and truly trapped she was. After leaving the Courthouse, they stopped by Willow’s house. Dominique told Willow to pack several changes of clothes and anything she didn’t want the movers to find. Aside from what was in Willow’s room, the contents of the house were going to be put into storage for Willow to go through later. Dominique herself had dismantled Willow’s Altar to Scathach; she wouldn’t let Willow near it. Willow thought that Dominique was afraid it would do something to the enchantment that had been placed on her. She was surprised, though, by the respect Dominique had shown when she packed her Altar. She knew from her memories that Dominique didn’t have must faith in the Gods and Goddesses.
It was while they were packing that Dominique explained what she had done to gain custody of Willow. The limo driver and Lindsay were told to wait in the car, leaving the two of them alone in the house. Willow was appalled to find out that Dominique had sent two people to her house to gather hair and DNA samples from her toothbrush. Plus, they had searched and copied her parent’s personal files. The thing that had shaken her the most, though, was that a basic paternity test showed Dominique as her genetic mother. A more in-depth genetic testing showed Willow’s DNA to be rather exotically mixed. Dominique hadn’t gone into detail about that part and, strangely enough, Willow was kind of glad she hadn’t. It all boiled down to the fact that, in the eyes of the law, Willow was Dominique’s biological daughter. Even at this very moment, Nightstone’s press secretary was releasing a statement to that effect.
Willow closed her eyes as she leaned her head against the window, trying to block out the outside world, but unable to stop the traitorous thoughts in her own mind. The thing that sickened her most was, while they packed, Dominique told Willow everything she had done to bring this day about. Willow was revolted that part of her coveted the attention Dominique gave her and was warmed by all Dominique had done to gain custody of her. Goddess, when Dominique was talking to Mr. Bass and said, “Willow is a Destine, and we Destines are a very tough breed,” there was a spark of pride amongst the rage and horror she was feeling. Willow could hear that Dominique believed what she was saying.
“Willow,” Dominique’s voiced intruded into Willow’s thoughts.
Opening her eye’s Willow turned to see Dominique sitting beside her and holding out a glass of orange juice. Glancing down at the orange juice, Willow then shot Dominique an incredulous look. As if she would accept a drink after the last one!
Dominique smiled slightly at Willow’s response and said to her, “Willow, this has the antidote in it. Drink it, and in about fifteen minutes you will be free of the compulsions.”
Willow looked down once again. After a moment’s thought, she reached out to take the glass from Dominique’s hand and drank the orange juice.
Dominique watched Willow drink the antidote. When Willow was finished, she took the glass from her and put it back in the mini-bar. Leaving Willow to her thoughts as she went back to gazing out the window, Dominique turned her attention to Mr. McDonald. “Mr. McDonald.” Once she had his attention, Dominique felt her face tighten in anger, and her voice became frigid. “If you ever touch my daughter on the back again, I will personally cut off your hand. Do you understand me?” After receiving a pale-faced nod, Dominique continued speaking. “Good, now call Mr. Manners; he has something he wishes to tell you.”
Dominique watched as Mr. McDonald took out his cell phone and made the call. He talked softly at first then more loudly to the person on the phone. His face alternately went pale with fear to red with anger. Dominique could feel her lips pulling into a very cruel smile as Mr. McDonald shut his cell phone with violently shaking hands. She could see Willow was also watching him, and, by look on her face, she was taking a grim satisfaction at his actions.
“Why?” Mr. McDonald asked her, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and fear.
Giving him a sinister smile, Dominique turned to Willow and said, “Willow, have you ever heard of Wolfram and Hart?”
Willow shook her head no.
“It’s a law firm whose main clients are Demons and such. Mr. McDonald here had a contract with them, and I say had because I bought it today. As of now, he works for us.” Dominique saw Willow’s dark delight at Lindsey’s predicament. The “us” comment had caught her attention. Dominique had thought it would.
Willow was the first out of the elevator once the doors opened; she stopped in shock at the opulence of the suite Dominique was renting for the night. The overall theme made her think of some of the pictures she has seen of European palaces. Willow’s eyes were drawn to the windows, with a balcony beyond them that spanned the entire wall across from her. She found herself walking toward them to be greeted by the breathtaking view the city and the ocean beyond. Willow bet the sunset that was still a couple of hours away would be spectacular.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Dominique asked from behind her.
“Yeah,” she replied softly. Willow felt very emotionally drained at the moment.
“Willow,” Dominique said as she moved up beside her.
Willow turned her head to meet Dominique compassionate gaze.
“I promised we would talk, and I want you to know I’ll answer any question you have for me truthfully. Now,” Dominique waved at a sofa, “would you like to sit down? I’ve had room service leave us a light lunch. I wasn’t sure if you were hungry or not.”
Willow gave her a slight nod and started towards the sofa. When she felt Dominique gently take her elbow to walk with her to the sofa, Willow jerked it out of her grasp. She didn’t want Dominique touching her. Willow could almost feel Dominique’s fingers hovering for a moment then dropping away from her.
On the way to the sofa Willow recalled the “working for us” statement in the limousine, Dominique had told her they would talk once they got to the hotel. It was a very quiet ride the rest of the way to Los Angeles. The only detour they took was to swing by Wolfram & Heart to drop Lindsey off so he could clean out his desk and pick up his car. Dominique had told him she would contact him in the next couple of days to explain what his job would entail.
After sitting down, Willow watched Dominique retrieve several silver trays from the room service cart and put them on the small table in front of the sofa. One tray had a silver carafe of steaming water in the center. Scattered around it were small silver bowls of fresh tea leaves along with several black china tea cups. The other tray had covered dishes that, when Dominique uncovered them, revealed finger sandwiches on one and fresh fruit and vegetables on the other.
Dominique sat down on the opposite end of the sofa from Willow and kicked her shoes off. “The worst part about being human is having to wear shoes. I just can’t get use to them.” Leaning towards the tea set Dominique asked, “Would you like some chamomile tea?”
Willow just nodded her head and watched Dominique fill two silver infusers with the tea leaves. After that she set them in two tea cups and poured the hot water from the carafe over them. While they steeped Dominique grabbed the tray with the plates of food and set it on the sofa cushion between her and Willow.
Looking up at Willow, Dominique shot her a small grin, “Oops, I forgot the napkins.” Dominique got up to pad barefoot across the thick carpet and retrieved several napkins from the cart.
As she sat back down, Dominique surprised Willow by playfully tossing one of the napkins at her head. Willow caught it before it could hit and found herself returning the small grin Dominique had on her face. Once Willow became aware of what she was doing, though, she wiped the grin off her face.
The disappointment reflected in Dominique’s eyes made Willow look down at the plates of food before her. It was so terribly confusing for her; she wanted to be… no she should be horribly angry at what Dominique had done to her. Yet Willow found that there was a growing part of her that took comfort in Dominique’s presence. It seemed so appallingly wrong for her to want that - but she did! Willow felt her brows draw together in thought, and then it suddenly dawned on her what might be causing these feelings. If it was true that Halloween night changed far more than just her body… With a suddenly pounding heart, Willow looked up at Dominique and asked, “Do you think what happened to us Halloween night is compelling us to be together?”
At first Dominique didn’t answer her; instead, she pulled the tea infusers out of the cups. Setting the tea cups on small plates, Dominique handed one to Willow and set her own in front of her on the sofa. She tucked her feet under her to sit cross-legged facing Willow. Dominique met Willow’s eyes and answered with one word, “Yes.”
Willow found herself rocking back in shock. That one word was uttered with a quiet acceptance so at odds with her memories of how Demona would react. To give herself time to gather her thoughts, Willow took her own shoes and socks off, allowing her to mirror Dominique’s position. When she was ready, she asked in a despondent voice, “Does that mean everything I… we feel is artificial?”
Dominique gave Willow a sympathetic smile before answering her question. “Personally, I believe Halloween night only planted the seeds of the feelings I have for you. I know I could have fought and overcome the parental urges if I had so desired.” Dominique paused a moment to take a sip of her tea; she had decided to be fully truthful with Willow.
Dropping the walls she had built around her heart so long ago, Dominique let the raw emotion she was feeling show in her eyes. “But, Willow, for the first time in over a thousand years, I found myself guided - not by hatred - but by something very different, Surprisingly, I found myself liking the emotions. Willow… I see this as a second chance for both of us. For me, a daughter I can share both the night and the day with, someone I can bare what is left of my soul to. For you…Willow, you have had a taste of the life I led and that gives you a unique insight into who I am and why.” Dominique tilted her head to the side as she gave Willow a hopeful look. “Perhaps, Willow, with your guidance I can start living instead of only existing.”
Dominique stopped speaking when she noticed Willow beginning to shake her head back and forth. For a moment, Dominique could tell she had reached Willow across the chasm of her own making that stood between them. Now, though, all she saw was rage and anger on Willow’s face. She watched in disappointment as Willow surged up from the couch with a scream of anguish, throwing the tea cup across the room to shatter on the far wall.
“No… No… NO!” Willow wailed while covering her ears, vainly trying to shut out Dominique’s voice. It was too late. Goddess, it was too late. Willow found herself divided. Half of her wanting… longing for what Dominique offered, but the other half… it caught her attention. It was a rage that burned her with its heat. She found herself grasping it and nurturing it with thoughts of how she was betraying her family and friends. A red haze covered her vision while her thundering pulse filled her ears with its roar. Willow gazed at her hands as her oh so human fingers bent themselves in the pale imitation of her gargoyle claws.
“Willow?” A touch on her shoulder drew her attention from within and gave her rage a focus. With a scream, Willow spun and struck Dominique across her face, ripping four parallel gouges in her cheek with her human finger nails. Dominique staggered back from her with a gasp of pain and shock. Willow followed her, striking again and again as she was consumed by a rage that had been distilled over the centuries. When Dominique fell to the floor Willow followed, dropping down to straddle the prone body. All the while Willow’s blood covered arms rose and fell, tearing and gouging at the thing beneath her.
Then, with a suddenness like a shock of ice water thrown on her, the rage was gone. Willow stared down in horror at the carnage she had wrought upon Dominique’s face. With revulsion, she stared down at her own gore covered hands and arms. Unlike the first time, these were of her own making. Sobbing, Willow threw herself off Dominique’s body and scrabbled backward across the floor until her back hit the side of the couch. Her eyes never left Dominique’s ravaged face. Willow watched as the flesh and muscle filled in the furrows she had created. Where the blood and fluid lay on bare flesh, it was reabsorbed.
Dominique blinked newly reformed eyes, but then those same eyes turned toward her filled with forgiveness.
Willow found that she couldn’t meet them.
Dominique lay still as her face healed itself from Willow’s voracious attack. The savagery had shocked her to her core, but Dominique had forced herself not to offer any resistance. Before Willow had blinded her, Dominique had recognized the look on Willow’s face. It was the same look she had seen on her own face reflected in so many of her victims’ eyes. Dominique was sickened to realize that Willow had inherited not only her memories and gargoyle heritage, but also the hatred and rage that had driven her all of these years. Sitting up, Dominique looked over to where Willow now lay curled in a fetal position by the couch. Dominique made her way over to Willow on her hands and knees.
Once she was close enough, Dominique could tell that Willow was quietly crying while her whole body was racked by tremors. Dominique slowly worked her body around Willow’s, spooning herself around the hurting youngling. All the while, Dominique murmured gentle endearments, trying to soothe Willow’s ravaged nerves. With her arms wrapped around Willow, Dominique let the youngling cry herself out. After a while, she could feel Willow’s sobs quieting and the trembling slowly come to a stop. Through all of this, Dominique kept up a litany of comforting words spoken in a soft, tender voice.
Willow slowly moved away, and Dominique shifted her own body, allowing Willow to turn onto her back. Willow ended up with her head resting on Dominique’s forearm while Dominique used the same arm to prop herself up. Dominique met Willow’s anguish filled gaze with her own sympathetic ones. Willow just lay quietly with her bloody hands balled up in her shirt in a vain attempt to hide the evidences of what she had done. Dominique smiled gently as Willow’s gaze traveled across her face, drinking in the unmarred flesh in wonderment.
“I’m sorry,” Willow found herself whispering to the woman above her. She still could see the terrible wounds she had inflicted upon that face like a ghostly afterimage.
“Shhh, it’s alright, my dear,” Dominique said while she ran her fingers across Willow’s brow. She draped her leg across the youngling’s own. Dominique really wanted to enfold her daughter in her wings, but this would do until Willow became more comfortable with her. Dominique trailed her fingers through Willow’s hair, and then, with infinite gentleness, Dominique drew Willow’s head toward her own and kissed her forehead. Pulling Willow against her chest and tightening her leg hold, she enclosed Willow in a full body embrace.
Dominique buried her face in Willow’s hair as she felt Willow’s arms work their way around her own waist. Hesitantly at first, then with greater vigor, Willow returned the embrace. Dominique breathed in Willow’s scent as she felt Willow twist her own head, pressing her face into Dominique’s neck. They took in the scent of family, the scent of Clan.
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