Echoes from the Battleground

Disclaimer: Characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, the WB, and UPN.

Four Days After

viii

“It isn’t easy,” Buffy said, walking across the immaculately manicured grass of the cemetery.

“I know,” Willow agreed. “It’s all, wow, we’re alive! I’ve been on a high from that for days … but then I feel guilty about feeling so good, when —”

Buffy nodded. “Yeah. When.” This was the first funeral they had attended (and glad to have it behind them), but another three were scheduled over the next four days, and doubtless more to come. “We did what we did, and it worked, which means we saved a lot of people … but other people died from it, and that’s gonna take some getting used to.”

Willow glanced over at her friend. “Plus, you’re dealing with other stuff as well.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said. Then she looked back to Willow. “Except, I’m not sure we’re talking about the same things. What did you mean?”

“Well, there’s the whole business of you telling the Council of Watchers you didn’t work for them anymore; you have to be wondering how they’ll react to that. Did you hear they fired Wesley?”

“I did.” Buffy’s face showed no trace of sympathy. “Could have saved us all a lot of trouble by firing him before they sent him here. No, I’m not worried about the Council; I’ll keep slaying as need requires, and Giles will still send reports, and I have to think me being active on the Hellmouth is more important to them than me following their orders.” She sighed. “Right now, my biggest headache is Dawn. She’s still being bratty about missing graduation, talking about going on patrol with me when she knows that won’t ever happen. Basically, taking her revenge by stirring up trouble. I swear —”

“Actually,” Willow broke in, “I was kind of trying to ease into the subject of Angel.”

Buffy’s face went instantly guarded. “What about him? Have you heard something?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Willow emphatically shook her head. “But he’s left now, like he said he would, and I know how much it hurt. I just wondered how you’re doing with that.”

Buffy didn’t answer immediately, and her friend didn’t press. After a minute, she stopped at a crypt and sat down on the steps. “If you want to know the truth, it hasn’t been that bad.”

“Really?” Willow took a seat next to her. “That … wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“I know,” Buffy said. “Especially with the way I carried on when he first told me. When he was dying, though — I mean, whatever you call it when one of the undead is about to become one of the totally-dead — that kind of gave me a new perspective on things. Yeah, he’s gone, but he isn’t gone. He’s still out there, somewhere, and that’s so much better than how it could have been … I’ll deal.” She frowned slightly. “Of course, looking at it another way, I’m right back where I was more than a year ago: my first serious boyfriend took off after we’d had sex exactly once.”

“Once?” Willow repeated … then, hurriedly, “Well, of course, the curse, don’t want to go repeating that. But — only once. Wow.”

Buffy turned to look at her, curious and then suddenly suspicious. Willow tried to meet her eyes innocently, but the blush started at her throat and worked upward to set her cheeks aflame. “Willow Rosenberg!” Buffy exclaimed. “You vixen, you! When? And why didn’t you tell me?”

“The day before graduation,” Willow admitted. “And, kind of again right before the ceremony. And you’re the first person I did tell — except you guessed before I could work up the nerve — and it’s still new and a little bit scary.”

“Wait, let me be sure I’ve got this straight,” Buffy insisted. “Two times before graduation? — that means you had twice as much sex in high school as I did!”

“And, uh, a few more times since then.” The blush was still there, but the tiny smile also held a certain smugness.

“Vixen cubed,” Buffy said, mock-accusing. “So much for you dying a virgin.”

Willow shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance. “Well, that was never exactly Plan A anyhow.”

Buffy pulled Willow to her, put her arm around her. “I’m happy for you,” she said. “Which will not at all stop me from being jealous when you start college with your boyfriend and Singleton Buffy is still moping around looking forlorn.”

“Forlorn,” Willow repeated. “Didn’t you slay one of those?” She smiled. “Don’t worry, you’ll find somebody. You’re as big a magnet for guys as for …” She trailed off.

“As for trouble,” Buffy finished for her. “Yeah, something to look forward to.”

“It could be.” Willow pulled away so she could face Buffy squarely. “Two words for you here: College Guys.”

Buffy sighed. “I know, I know. And I’ve got the rest of the summer to psych myself up for it.” She stood, and Willow rose to join her. “At least I’m done with the drama of being involved with a vampire. No matter what dating disasters are waiting to ambush me, they have to be better than that.”

ix
(The following segment will have more meaning for those who have read “Come to My Window”.)

Sheila Martini’s was not a naturally happy face. In fact, her typical expression varied from scowl to jeer, with little between. Now, however, it showed a fury barely under control, and Tana Guiette felt her body tingle with the familiar delicious frisson of fear. “What the hell were you thinking?” Sheila was demanding, fists clenched and body tensed as if for attack. “Were you out of your fricken mind?”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Tana said. “It came up out of nowhere, and there just wasn’t time to get in touch with you. And even if I had, you wouldn’t have been able to come out until the eclipse anyway, so it really wouldn’t have made any difference.”

“I could have been there,” Sheila insisted. “God damn it, if I’d had any idea you’d do anything so fricken stupid —!”

“Been there?” Tana interrupted. “You’d have … come out and fought on our side?”

Sheila’s face went wary, and she snapped, “Don’t be any dumber than you have to. I’d’ve dragged your silly ass outta there, or at least grabbed a coupla snacks for myself before I cut out for some place safer.” She moved up next to the hospital bed, looming over Tana. “I’m not part of the whole good-versus-evil bullshit, I keep telling you that. Yeah, I’m evil, but I’m not about to get dusted over it. Which is how you oughtta be thinking: not in their dumb-ass war, let the holy crusaders and the undead fiends kill each other while we live the high life.”

Tana settled back on the stacked pillows, used the side-rail controls to tilt the bed upward so she could look at her visitor without strain. Her head still ached — she’d been far too close to the library explosion, but a lick of the flame had consumed the vampire who was carrying her off, so she wasn’t about to complain — and with anyone else she would have pretended to be too sedated to talk. “I’m sorry. We were in it together, the whole senior class, and I couldn’t let them down. School solidarity … that’s not your thing, I knew that. And —” She hesitated, then forged on. “And I didn’t know you’d care. You keep saying you don’t.”

“You’re part of the life I got here, you brain-dead bimbo.” Sheila’s mouth was set in hard lines. “I can party with you, use you to keep up with gossip among the breathers … and you’re a steady blood supply, don’t forget that. You got no business risking my property without at least talking to me about it!”

“Property?” Tana couldn’t hold back the laugh. “Oh, Sheila!”

The other girl leaned over her, her eyes glinting yellow for an instant, and her voice was very soft. “You think this is funny?”

“Right now, everything is funny.” Tana shook her head, wincing at the twinges that accompanied the motion. “I’m alive, and that’s just hilarious. We blew up the school, and we’re the good guys.” She put her hand on top of Sheila’s. “You’re here, swearing at me and insulting me, and I’m so happy to see you I can’t even say it, and that’s the funniest thing of all.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Sheila said in disgust, but she didn’t pull her hand away.

“I’m glad you came.”

“I got thirsty,” the other girl snapped. “And I find you here in no condition to contribute anything. Inconsiderate bitch.”

Tana had nothing to say to that, and a silence began and stretched out. At last, in a small voice, she said, “I got a scholarship.”

Sheila stared at her. “Huh? What?”

“My folks pulled some strings,” Tana explained. “My grades weren’t great, but I’ve done better this last year, and I was really throwing myself into theater —”

“I know,” Sheila snapped. “Couldn’t get you to shut up about all your big breakout roles.” Yes, Sheila had scornfully dismissed Tana’s enthusiasms, insisting she wouldn’t be caught dead watching community theater … but she was dead, technically, and Tana suspected she might have snuck in to watch a performance or two, even if she’d never admit it. “So?” the other girl demanded.

“And I must have done something right,” Tana went on. “Because I got a scholarship. For drama and musical theater.”

“Yeah? Where?”

Tana drew a cautious breath. “Sam Houston State University.”

“Sam Hous–…?” Sheila’s scowl went from perplexed to thunderous. “Texas? You’re goin’ to college in fricken Texas?”

“It’s not Sunnydale,” Tana pointed out, not quite timidly.

Some of Sheila’s ire seemed to subside. “Yeah, there’s that,” she admitted. “Sunnyhell suits me fine, but …” She looked to Tana. “So, when?”

“The end of August,” Tana said, so faintly that only supernatural hearing could have picked out the words.

“Yeah?” Sheila pulled her hand away, stood back. “Well, good for you. Have a great summer.”

“I will,” Tana said as the other girl turned away. “If you won’t leave me.”

“What?” Sheila stopped, looking back at her. “I’m not moving to goddamn Texas.”

“I know.” Tana held out her hand. “But we still have till August.”

“Oh, my aching ass.” Sheila stared at the outstretched hand but made no move to reach for it. “Ah, what the hell. Gimme a call when you get outta the hospital, maybe we can talk then.”

Again she started to turn away, and again Tana called, “Just … before you go …” Sheila gave her an exasperated glance, and Tana whispered, “… Please …?”

“For the love of —” Sheila moved back to the bedside, looked down at her with a critically analytical eye. “You can’t spare it.”

“So don’t take much.” Tana turned her head on the pillow to bare her throat. “But … that doesn’t mean you need to rush.”

Graduation. Endings, and new beginnings.

Some things, though, she wasn’t ready to leave behind just yet.

x

Harmony Kendall was not outstandingly smart. She knew this about herself. When she remembered to try, however, she could usually manage to be just smart enough. Usually. Whether or not this would be one of those times … well, that was still up in the air.

The loser who had found her in the sewers when she awoke (rose?) had latched onto her and done his best to convince her that he was her sire and her only hope for survival was to obey him and follow his guidance. Please: she remembered perfectly well that it had been a girl who bit her, plus she had years of experience in telling when someone was pretending to know, and be, more than he actually had on hand to deliver. That same experience had taught her the value of playing along, however; so, she’d acted dumb — and they always bought it! — and, between episodes of enthusiastic but unspectacular sex, during which she labored mightily to both show him a mind-blowingly good time and convince him that she believed he was ten times as good in bed as he actually was, she learned everything she could about the rules and conditions of her new ‘life’ until, after two days, it was time to slip the ties and strike out on her own.

Some of the guidelines, she could simply feel. Others, she knew from too much time spent listening to guys go on about comic books and Hammer films. Some, though, she’d managed to glean from her would-be master … such as, just now, the fact that she needed an invitation before entering anyone’s home. Even if it was also her home.

Okay. Showtime. Harmony uncapped the bottle of cheap whiskey she’d got from the liquor store (after throwing that jerk of a clerk completely through the shelves, and she’d have drunk him if she hadn’t already been full), took a long pull and gargled with it before swallowing, and then splashed some on her clothes: screw it, they’d been in the sewers, she’d burn ’em once she got inside to raid her old wardrobe. Then she stretched out on her front lawn and began singing. Faintly at first — let it build — and then with increasing volume.

It took longer than she’d expected, but eventually, inevitably, the front door opened and her mother peered out at the spectacle Harmony had created. Melody Kendall looked haggard and pale, but mostly thunderstruck, and she rushed outside, shrieking, “Harmony! Oh, my God, where have you been? I was worried out of my mind —!”

Harmony levered up on one elbow, waving the bottle and grinning as witlessly as she could. “Hi, Mama. Woo, what are you doin’ here?”

“What am I …?” Melody stopped before her daughter, worry and relief beginning to give way to wrath. “I looked everywhere for you, I’ve haunted the police station, I looked at bodies in the morgue! I thought you were dead.”

“Dead?” Harmony giggled, as part of the act and because this was fun. She took another long swallow, and produced the best belch she could. “Partyin’,” she corrected cheerfully. “Graduation party. Lots ’n’ lotsa booze. I … I think I mighta had maybe a little too much … but, but I’m good now!”

Melody closed her eyes, took a deep, deep breath. “Happy,” she said levelly. “I’m happy now. I’m not about to beat my only daughter with a tennis racket, because I’m so happy I can hardly contain myself.” She opened her eyes, reached down to take Harmony’s arms and begin pulling her upright. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” She wrinkled her nose. “And washed up. Where in heaven’s name have you been?”

“I dunno,” Harmony slurred. “Warehouse or somethin’. But then we had a bonfire out at the city dump, I mighta fallen down a coupla times …” She’d been going where her mother steered, resisting only enough to make herself seem unsteady on her feet, but she stopped at the door, peering ahead as if barely able to focus. “What? No, I don’ wanna go inside. I want … Chinese! Le’s go out for Chinese!”

“Harmony,” her mother said, voice tight, “you get in this house right this instant, or so help me God I’ll ground you till you hit menopause!”

Harmony smiled foolishly (invitation! YES!), and said, “Okay, Mama. I guess I really could use a bath ’fore I go anywhere.”

By the time she was finally put to bed, Harmony was getting more than a little annoyed with her mother’s solicitude, even if it felt good to have somebody wait on her and take care of her and, well, care. The never-married Melody had labored ferociously to see that her fatherless daughter lacked for nothing, whether material advantage or the assurance that she was loved, and it seemed that even anger at that daughter’s four-day absence wasn’t enough to break those habits. A part of the transformed Harmony looked on her mother’s overwhelming relief with a distant contempt, and that same part seemed to think that slaughtering the woman would be … well, proper … as a beginning for this new existence. That would be dumb, though. Sewers and crypts were for losers, and until Harmony could work up something better, her former home would be a nice place to hang out.

In fact, if she played it right, she might be able to keep coming back, now and then, as a change of pace or for emergency shelter. She didn’t know yet how she’d explain never going out in the day — or letting sunlight touch her! — and she’d need to at least pretend to eat, and there were a lot of other details she hadn’t begun to figure out, but having a ‘home’ to come back to might turn out to be really handy.

Harmony Kendall was not outstandingly smart. She knew how to spot an advantage, though, and work it, and this was an advantage she wasn’t about to throw away.
 

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