End of Days

Day 5

“Hello?” Giles opened the door slowly, allowing sunlight to spill in the dark doorway of Mrs. Gates home. “Buffy? Willow? Are you up?” There was no answer to his voice, and Giles felt the forced smile fade from his face. “Oz?”

Giles walked through the quiet house nervously, searching for some sign of the children. There was a half-eaten bowl of popcorn and a few discarded soda cans in front of the television, but no teenagers. Giles quickened his step, approaching the stairs as anxiety ate away at him, but even as he lay his hand on the banister to ascend, there was a soft sound behind him. The Watcher turned to see his Slayer and Oz, their clothes rumpled, standing in the door to the basement.

Buffy stepped hesitantly forward then launched herself at the older man. Caught off guard, Giles enfolded the shivering girl in his arms and looked askance at Oz. “Where is Willow?”

Oz tightened his jaw almost imperceptibly. “We lost her. She went outside.”

“She said that she saw Xander”, Buffy murmured into Giles’ shirtfront. “She said he was here, and then she was gone...” She trembled again as the last words came in a near-wail of anguish. “I should have gone with her...”

“Don’t say that”, the Watcher commanded faintly, feeling his own heart shatter at the loss of the hacker. “Don’t even think it.”

“We’re getting her back”, Oz said with finality. “Whatever it takes. We will find Willow and get her back.”

Mmmmm?

Silky...cool...

Soft...

Willow purred quietly as she stretched lazily against silken sheets. The bedclothes slid across her naked skin sensuo...

Her NAKED skin?!?!?

Willow sat up with a squeak clutching the sheet to her chest. Her mind struggled to recall how she had ended up naked on silk sheets, and she stared at the candles that lit the room uncomprehendingly.

A rustle of sound drew her attention to the foot of the bed, where three men stood in shadows, watching her. The man on the right chuckled at her panicky but wordless reaction.

“Good old Will”, he whispered sarcastically. Xander stepped out of the shadows, running a hand along the end of the bed. “So shy and...sweet...”

Willow stared at her oldest friend in horror, her jaw working soundlessly. His eyes were ice-cold in his pale face as he looked at her like a piece of meat.

“Alexander.” The man who stood on the right said the name sharply, gesturing to the door. Without looking to see if he was obeyed, the man turned and left the room. Xander smiled nastily at Willow, the frost in his eyes promising future pain, and then he was gone, slinking back into the shadows and leaving Willow alone with a silent stranger.

Willow focused on taking deep breaths and wrapping the sheets more securely around her shaking body. Her companion stood still, visually examining his captive. The redhead flushed under his scrutiny, waiting for him to say something. Finally the girl couldn’t stand the endless staring, and in frustration she demanded, “What do you want?”

The watcher was silent, his features still obscured in darkness. With a moan of stifled feeling, Willow scooted back on the slick sheets and rested against the headboard of the four-poster bed, glaring futilely at her captor. The silence wore on for several moments.

“You’re quite pretty”, the man stated calmly. “Beautiful, actually.” He tilted his head to the side and slid out of the shadows smoothly. “Alexander tells me that you’re intelligent.”

“You took him away”, Willow whimpered accusingly. She took in the classically handsome features and olive complexion. The man’s accent was unfamiliar...a very bad sign. “Who are you?”

“My name is Gaius”, he answered calmly. “And you and I have much to discuss, Willow Rosenberg.” A slight smile flickered on the corners of his mouth and was gone, but his eyes retained some warmth as he held out a hand to the Wiccan. “Come. We have little time before dark.”

“I was born in 66 BC in a villa rustica...you know a little Latin, correct? Ah yes. A country villa. I was born a slave, and named Gaius. My mother, a lovely young household slave by the name of Helena, was fully Greek. I was not, as my father was the Roman master of the estate.” An almost bitter smile tugged at the man’s lips, and he continued in subdued tones as Willow dressed behind a screen.

“The master, Titus Rigellius Altus, had only one child: a son, Marcus, who was born only a few months before I. Because my father was not a cruel man, he saw to it that I was well trained and spared the lash as much as possible. And because there were no other children about, he allowed my brother and I to interact frequently.”

Willow stepped out then, somewhat uncomfortable in the sleeveless shift that she wore. Gaius smiled approvingly and gestured to the doorway, intending to show her his home as he continued his tale. “You are exquisite, child. A masterpiece.”

Willow flushed a bit and didn’t object to a change of scenery...or the chance to scout out an escape. Shyly, she protested, “I-I’m not...”

Gaius shushed her by touching her lips slightly with a cold finger. “You are.”

The redhead shook her head in embarrassment, but managed to mumble a ‘thank you’, her mind clicking away rapidly as she pondered her host’s species. She had a suspicion, but the details didn’t add up yet...

Willow’s captor nodded at her apparent acceptance, and resumed his story as he led her through the bare stone hallways of some sort of monastery. “Marcus and I grew up as friends, though as we reached maturity, the demarcation between slave and master was more rigorously enforced by out father and Marcus’ mother. My father had intentions to sell me when Marcus reached the age of sixteen, but my mother’s death during that time caused him to reconsider. He was...fond...of her.”

“Not fond enough to free her?” Willow asked timidly, as the pair reached a downward spiraling staircase.

“No”, Gaius denied tenderly, “Too much so to free her.” The older man offered Willow his arm and led her down the steps and into the catacombs. “Marcus did well in his schooling, and was allowed a great deal of freedom for his obedience. He began to be involved with a very dangerous group of people. At the time, we were not yet in our twenties, and Marcus was still young enough to...you have a modern expression for this...’sow his wild oats’? I was his attendant by then...his valet, if you will...and I saw more of the consequences of this than other members of the household.”

Willow squirmed slightly at the darkness of the catacombs, lit only by torches that were few and far between. The shadowy tunnels were full of people, all obscured by dark. “Consequences?”

“Bruises, cuts...To this day I have only an inkling of what occurred during Marcus’ wild nights. It went on for some time, and on the night of his twenty-first birthday, Marcus changed forever.”

“Oh”, Willow gasped. “And he...”

“Yes”, Gaius confirmed. “He changed me the next night, determined that we two would stay together for all of time.” With sad eyes, the man that Willow now knew to be a vampire smiled at the memory. “Unfortunately, that was not to be.”

Dark fell and the catacombs emptied quickly, leaving Willow and Gaius nearly alone. The redhead shivered in the thin shift that she’d been given and followed her captor helplessly.

“So the short version is, you want to rule the world to honor your brother and because you’re bored?” Willow asked incredulously.

The creature before her chuckled and turned, running a hand gently along Willow’s bare arm. “The very short version. Are you ready, child?”

Willow sobbed silently and murmured, “I don’t think anyone is ever ready to die.” She closed her eyes defensively against the piercing pressure of his gaze and shuddered as she felt his breath on her cheek.

“Don’t think of it as dying, little one. Think of it as transcending your limitations.” A cool rush of air marked his words, fluttering on the tender flesh of Willow’s throat.

The Wiccan whimpered, and then all she could think to do was whisper a simple binding spell and hope....

Giles ran his fingers through his tousled hair and threw down the book. He had searched all of the pertinent texts available to him, yet the answers eluded him. The details of the disappearances were specific: individuals, outside at night and alone; doors left open and lights on. People were lured from the safety of their homes, apparently by visions of their lost loved ones.

Not one demon fit the profile.

Oz watched Giles think with growing trepidation. “Nothing?”

“Not a blessed thing”, Giles responded bitterly. The older man fell back against the couch with a groan of pain. “Unless two or more demons are working in congress, I have no idea what could possibly be causing this.”

The werewolf nodded in understanding and wryly noted, “I don’t think our Slayer could handle even one demon right now.”

Giles glanced toward the chair where Buffy lay with tired eyes. The girl was convinced that death was immanent. He had known, for a very long time, that she was becoming too emotionally fragile to do the work she was destined for, but the presence of her friends had slowed her descent enough to give him hope. Now...

“You may be right”, Giles admitted sadly. “I knew there was a danger of this occurring... I had such hopes.”

Oz regarded at the Watcher measuringly. “You knew that Willow and Xander would disappear.”

“No!” Giles stood with the grace of a much younger man and walked to the bookcase for another tome. “Buffy believed that they would. I had decided that the dreams she had were coincidental.” The werewolf’s eyes burned into Giles’ back, and he softly explained, “when Buffy was first called as the Slayer, her dreams showed her the past. This is standard. I was not her Watcher at the time, though I did have access to Merrick’s notes on the subject. The second stage of her dreams was prophecy. Again, most Slayers do tend to have portentous dreams.”

The Watcher settled down on the couch and lay a new book on the table. “In the last 2 years, Buffy has come to me several times with nightmares. Some have shown rather vague glimpses of the future. However, after Angel’s turning, most of her dreams are simply manifestations of the fear that the bastard instilled in her.” Removing his glasses and rubbing a hand across his tired eyes, Giles continued, “I’m afraid that I had lost faith in her dreams. The last two that had any bearing on the occult were more telepathic than prescient...”

“So what you’re saying is that Buffy told you this would happen, and you didn’t believe her.” Oz sat back with narrowed eyes. “So what happens next?”

“We continue researching”, Giles sighed, “and try to find out--“

“Giles”, Oz interrupted firmly. “Buffy’s dream. What’s going to happen next?”

The older man hesitated, and a small, weak voice interjected, “I find Willow.”

Buffy opened pain-filled eyes and gazed off into the distance. “After that I don’t know...because I’ll be dead.”