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FIC: Walking Higher (The Childhood's End Remix) [BtVS; Xander; PG-13; Part 5/5]
Title:
Walking Higher (The Childhood's End Remix) — Part 5/5Author: Lizbeth Marcs (
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liz_marcs)Summary: There’s only one person who’d ask you to give up heaven, and there are four people for whom you’d do it.
Rating: PG-13ish
Fandom:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the SeriesCharacters: Xander, Dawn, Buffy, Giles, Willow, Cordelia
Pairings: Primarily gen; Buffy/Xander UST; light Giles/Xander slash
Title, Author, and URL of the original Story: Winter Garden by
kivrinWarning:
Disturbing imagery and violence. Vague spoilers for all of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel.Author’s notes:
Author's notes in the first part.v) but it is good,
at the eve of such a day,
to feel and know
that there are
such men and women in the world
It was as simple, and as complicated, as taking a breath.
At the edges of the earth, they scrambled in the moments before and the moments after realizing that their world had forever changed again.
*****
…Dawn dropped her books on the desk and, despite her discomforting earlier conversation with Xander, eagerly took up the phone and dialed information to get the number of his hotel. It had been too long since they’d seen each other in person; too long since she had a patented Xander-hug that she liked to think he reserved specially for her.
Much as she hated to admit it, it was nice talking to someone who got it; the it that a Sunnydale survivor, especially a Scooby or an ex-Scooby, got. It was nice not watching every word; not worrying about strange looks whenever she let a vague hint about her past slip past tongue and lips. For the first time since she got LA, she didn’t feel like she had to keep up the wall that shut everyone else out of the Sunnydale portion of her life, and that rated high on the fantastic scale.
Sure, he came armed with horrible news. And yes, he pissed her off more than once during their talk this morning, but at the end of the day he was family. What was more he was family that treated her like an adult. She might not like the high-handed way he sometimes went about it, but he at least seemed to trust that she was capable of making her own decisions.
Which was why she loved him like a goofy, if messed-up, big brother, she supposed. And that was why she’d always be happy to see him, no matter what.
Dawn eagerly spoke the name ‘Lotus Land Estates’ into the phone when the automated system prompted her for the listing. She wasn’t all that concerned when she was clicked over to a live operator asking her to repeat the name of Xander’s hotel and its location.
When she was told that no such hotel by that name existed, she still wasn’t all that concerned. Thinking that Xander must have misremembered name, which was totally no surprise because she told him that ‘Lotus Land Estates’ in no way sounded like any kind of hotel she heard of, she began the long process of trying variations on the name.
And still, there was nothing.
Eventually she gave up seeking help from the operator. A curl of worry caused her stomach to flutter as she turned to Google for answers. With Xander’s luck, he was right about the name of where he was staying, but was wrong about it being the name of a normal, if cheap, hotel.
Maybe he checked into an evil hotel and didn’t know it. Maybe it was an evil hotel staffed by evil cultists. Only evil cultists would name a hotel ‘Lotus Land Estates.’
She began to sweat and her hands began to shake as her fingers flew across the keyboard and typed in every variation of the name that she could think of, even as she told herself that she was overreacting. Xander had spent more than a year in Africa without getting killed, or even seriously injured. If he could take care of himself in a completely foreign environment, then he most certainly could take care of himself in his home state.
She kept searching for more than an hour, but found nothing. She came up with a few business names that sounded close, but none of them belonged to a hotel or motel, nor did they sound like the kind of businesses that were owned by cultists, evil or otherwise.
Dawn chewed her lip in frustration. She’d have to call Buffy and admit that she knew where Xander was hiding. Then she'd have to tell her that she had somehow lost Xander and the name of his hotel. Xander said there were evil Watchers and evil witches and wizards after him, she couldn’t discount the possibility that they somehow tracked Xander to California and had somehow lured him into a trap.
If it turned out that she was jumping at shadows and that she was the one who misheard the name despite the fact that she double-checked, Xander would be annoyed that she didn’t think he could take care of himself, but better safe than sorry.
She grabbed her cell phone and began to dial. As she impatiently waited for her call to connect to the Council center in Rome, she hoped that Buffy would be able to help her solve her Xander-shaped mystery.
*****
…Buffy sat straight up on the couch when the pounding at her door jerked her awake.
This is it,
she thought as she grabbed the sword she had laid on the floor within easy reach. In the winter-weak early morning light, she stole quietly up to the door and peered through the spy hole.She didn’t think it at all strange that Xander stayed put the guest room. Given the awful circumstances behind his flight to Rome, Buffy was relieved that he had realized that it was better for all concerned if he stayed out of sight and got himself tucked into a safe hiding place, not that there were any safe hiding places in the apartment if the worst happened.
On the other side of the door stood a twitch-er-ific looking man flanked by two girls.
Buffy quickly went through all the possibilities in her head. Either this was Omar bearing a 2 gigabyte flash drive full of yummy information and his Slayer guard, or it was a trio of fakers. If they were fakes, she didn’t want to give away that either her or Xander were around. But if they were the real thing…
There really wasn’t a choice.
“What’s the password?” Buffy asked through the closed door.
“No power on this earth,” Omar said back. He quickly added, “Mr. Harris said you’d know what it means.”
Buffy let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and loosened her grip on the sword. Just the same, she made sure to keep it ready in case she needed to perform some quality hack-and-slash as she opened the door.
Omar held up the flash drive, his ticket to safety and Buffy’s protection, before she silently indicated that he and the Slayers could cross the threshold.
The second the door closed behind them, though, Omar immediately began to tell Buffy a tale that she found hard to believe. As he desperately related all he knew about the events in Nairobi that led to him standing in her safe house apartment sans one Xander Harris, Buffy’s confusion turned to shock.
“But you’re wrong,” she said. “He’s already here.”
Yet Omar, and the Slayers, insisted that it was Buffy who was mistaken.
“No. I know you’re wrong. He’s been here for hours,” she said as she quickly went to the door of the guest bedroom.
She knocked, even though she couldn’t see any way that Xander had slept through the racket. When there was no answer, she called through the door to him and told him it was safe for him to come out.
And still, there was no answer.
Buffy felt the tendrils of fear begin to circle her chest. Xander had to be there, safe and sound. She saw him walk into the bedroom with her own two eyes when he went to bed. She knew for a fact that no one got into or left the apartment in the hours since then.
She flung open the door and stared agape and the scene before her, or rather, the scene that wasn’t before her.
One bed that had never been slept in. One room bereft of Xander’s duffle bag. One floor free of anything resembling clothes.
And not one sign that anyone but her had stepped foot into the bedroom all night.
*****
…Giles rolled over in bed and flung an arm across the pillow.
A thought tickled in the back of his mind. There was something missing, or something he forgot, although he couldn’t rightfully say what it was.
He irritably rolled over and checked the time on the alarm clock.
It read: 3:13 a.m.
In a flash it all came back him.
Xander calling him at his hotel. The taxi ride. Meeting Xander not far from the capitol building. The fearsome weather outside. The botanic garden. The intoxicating scent of flowers as Xander leaned over and kissed him, and a need that made him ache. The stumbling trip back to his hotel room. The desperate kissing and touching and fumbling of clothes as they stumbled to the bed. The hours of exploring each other’s bodies. The way the world and its cares faded away as the room grew dimmer with the coming of night. The sated exhaustion that lulled them both into slowly deepening sleep.
He remembered how, as he drifted off to sleep, Xander held him close and whispered that he loved him, and that all Giles needed to do was to rely on and trust the people he cared about and everything would be turn out all right.
Giles was on his feet in a split second and fumbling for a light. As soon as he snapped on the lamp located on the bedside table, he winced against the sudden brightness. Then he desperately began looking for some sign that Xander was still about.
The bed was empty. Every scrap of Xander’s clothing was gone. Xander wasn’t in the hotel suite, and there was no note indicating that he’d left, let alone where he’d gone off to.
Stupid old man,
Giles thought as he dropped back onto the edge of the bed.Stupid, dirty old man,
the thought elaborated as he dropped his head into his hands.He could imagine all too well what had happened. Xander got caught up in the heat of the moment, and allowed himself to be carried along by someone he trusted into doing something he didn’t want or desire.
Xander had been in an odd frame of mind from the time Giles first laid eyes on him. Xander had been looking over his shoulder for daggers in the dark. Xander had landed in the one place where he thought he’d be safe.
With him. In Washington D.C. Away from the nightmares that Africa had inflicted on him and in a city that — even if he didn’t know it well — was at least somewhat familiar to him.
Xander had trusted in him.
In his mind’s eye, he could see Xander waking up not precisely knowing where he was other than in a soft bed and a warm room. He could imagine Xander lazily rolling over and coming face to with what had happened. He could too well understand the moment of panic that had most likely gripped the younger man as he slid out of bed and quietly got dressed.
Most likely Xander was even now checking into a different room. No. A different hotel.
If there was any comfort in this, Giles knew Xander would contact him once he’d found a proper bolt hole and had pounded the events of the day and night into some semblance of sense. The situation with the rebel Watchers was too dire for Xander to simply up and disappear without a word.
Much as Giles desperately needed to know that Xander was physically safe, much he wanted to hear Xander’s voice, he dreaded whatever would come after.
It could only go one of two ways: Xander would want to talk about what had happened — a mortifying thought — or would pretend that it never happened — a horrifying situation. Giles wasn’t sure what would shatter him more: harsh accusations about being used in such a manner, or uncomfortable silence in an effort to ignore what had happened. One thing was for certain: Xander would never openly embrace nor express happiness about their momentary shared madness and need for intimacy.
The ring of his mobile startled him out of his gloomy musings about the distasteful future that lay before him. He stupidly stared into space as the mobile rang a second time.
By the third ring he was out of bed and digging through his jacket pockets.
In the middle of the fourth ring, he saw that it was Buffy calling from Rome.
A shiver ran through him. Guilt about the past. Fear about the future. But most importantly, concern about the present.
The mobile stopped ringing. No doubt Buffy had been dumped into his voice mail.
Much as he didn’t wish to call her back, he had little choice in the matter. Most likely Buffy was ringing him to report that Xander’s courier and his Slayer guards had arrived safe and sound with the information Xander had purloined from the rebels.
Giles uneasily swallowed in an effort to steady his nerves. Dealing with the destruction of his personal relationship with Xander would have to wait. Duty called.
He set aside the mobile and slowly dressed, out of some misguided sense of propriety more than anything else. Once he was decent in body, if not in soul, he again took up the mobile.
As he flipped open the mobile and scrolled through contact list to Buffy’s number, he couldn’t help but muse how Xander was right. This damnedable piece of technology had become the weapon of choice against his enemies, and the shield he used to keep his loved ones at bay.
*****
…Willow stared into the crowd for a long time after it swallowed all trace of Xander whole.
Once she was certain that he wouldn’t be coming back — not to talk, not to give her another hug, not to give her another kiss on top of her head, not even to say good-bye — she could feel her heart shatter.
She stumbled away from the surging crowd rushing between gates, and slowly sunk into an available seat in a nearby departure lounge.
It wasn’t until a concerned passer-by stopped to ask if she was all right that she realized that she was sobbing.
*****
You’re getting lost in the rhythm of life.
It’s the way the dawn sunlight flows over the buildings; the way the city snaps awake not with a slow stretch, but a sudden spasm of movement; the way people spill into the streets.
There’s a cry of shock at the sight of a burned corpse in the middle of the road. You know that the person stumbling back from the scene is not the first to notice, but he’s the first who cares enough to break the spell that shrouded the horror from human eyes.
You drift over to him and brush a calming hand across his shoulder. He nods his thanks to you, seeing and yet not seeing you as you stand next to him and offer silent comfort.
It seems the entire city pours into the area after that. The ever-swelling crowd eventually hides from view the thing that you know is there.
As for you, you walk in the spaces between now, marveling at the mix of languages and dialects and how you can understand every word, and every shade of thought and emotion behind those words, so clearly. In this rush of color and confusion, you are nothing more than a shadow, unless and until the moment requires you to be fully present. You know that moment will come soon enough. You also know that moment is not here, nor is it now. Now it’s time for the living to confront the dead. It’s not really a place where you belong, and it’s not really a time for you to have your say.
She’s moving through the spaces with you, watching you take it all in; watching as understanding slowly fills you up after so long of doing without.
You nod at her, feeling a little light-headed, a little loopy, as you absorb it and make it a part of yourself. “Yes,” you say to her unspoken question, “Yes.” You have never meant the word more than you do at this very moment.
Somewhere in between, police wind their way around you, dodging your presence without any of them realizing it. There is an on-site examination, consultations, and orders for the crowd to stand back. There are even jokes to keep the scent of burned flesh and death at bay, and it’s a language you understand so well that you can’t help but throw out your arms and laugh at the sky. These police are your countrymen, members of the union of people who’ve seen horrors and have kept their sanity up until the bitter end.
“Morbid much?” she asks with a hint of irritation. “Have I mentioned that it’s gauche to stick around for your own funeral? Especially when the guest of honor has your fashion sense.”
You grin at her, knowing that her remarks are a little bit for show, a little bit for old time’s sake.
She rolls her eyes to the heavens, and lets out an irritated breath. “Get it together, dorkface. The Powers have another job for you lined up already.”
That brings you up short. “What? Don’t I get some recovery time?”
“You get a day. Wait. Maybe a century.” She waves an elegantly manicured hand in dismissal. “That’s the problem with this job. Your sense of time becomes goo. I’m soooo putting in for that PDA.”
“I’ve got my Tweety Bird watch. I’m good.”
“Yeeeeaaaaah. We’re going to have to do something about that, not to mention your wardrobe.” She snaps her fingers and grins. “That means shopping. I know this great place in Paris—”
“I think I’ll stick with the Tweety Bird watch, thanks.”
“You would.” She glances at the crowd, now moving as sluggishly as blood. “We really have to go.”
“I’m ready,” you tell her.
She turns and leads the way, her head held high like the queen she always knew herself to be.
You run a few steps to catch up, and when you reach her side your hand brushes hers.
To your surprise, to your non-surprise, she grasps your hand and holds it tight without breaking her stride.
You walk away with your back firmly to the scene that has captured so much interest. The dead thing that lies in the midst of living holds as much importance as a stray piece of street litter — important to someone somewhere once, but important no longer.
“Good soldiers are hard to find,” she quietly says to you. “I’m glad you’ve decided to come with.”
Then she falls uncharacteristically silent, but that’s okay. You know she’ll be talking with her usual flair again soon enough, and you’ll be laughing again soon enough, and in that moment the world will ring with the rightness of it all.
*****
Additional Writing Credits:
The title is taken from the song
“Walking Higher” by Heather Nova.Chapter breaks were written by Nathaniel Hawthorne. The quotes come from the following works:
i) from “Chiefly About War Matters”
ii) from “The Hollow of the Three Hills”
iii) from “The Procession of Life”
iv) from “Our Old Home – To a Friend”
v) from “Footprints on the Sea Shore”
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That...was amazing, Liz. *applauds*
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did I mention so so so so good?
thank you so much for writing.
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But, yeah, once I decided to pull TPTB into it, it had to be Cordy. I was sorry I couldn't sneak Anya in as well, but canon didn't give me a nail to hang that hat on (so to speak).
I'm glad you liked it.
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That might take a while.
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You can see why writing the summary and putting warnings on this was so hard. I can understand when people want to be warned about character death, but unfortunately in this case warning for it would give a key plot point away.
Glad you liked it.
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Okay, maybe not really for the Scoobs, but Xander's happy at least.
I think.
Glad you liked it.
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And yeah, hitting the persistent character issues kind of made things difficult, because ultimately those parts couldn't be about Xander at all, but it had to be about them. This was especially hard in the Buffy chapter because I could imagine that as reality started seeping in she'd have a lot of issues cranked up to 11, and it was hard to focus only one one or two that could ultimately cause her to self-destruct (where as Dawn, Giles and Willow, by contrast, might have one or two but not the dozen or so choices we have with Buffy).
Yeah, you can probably tell that Buffy's part was the worst to write, and it was the one that got hacked-and-slashed and re-written the most to make it "fit" in a single posting.
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Glad you liked it.
(Sorry I haven't been around LJ land much...RL has been eating into my LJ time...)
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Was different....
Totally not what I'd expected, yet even better then I could have envisioned. You do know how to smack us over the head with a 2x4, don't you, Liz?
Awesome, though sad in a way, work.
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Glad you liked it.
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I think my favorite chapter was 4 - you captured perfectly the deep, deep love between Willow and Xander, a bond that will always be there.
One very minor point - Willow couldn't have visited the National Museum of the American Indian when she was a kid. It didn't open until 2004. I only know that because my b-i-l worked on the NYC part of the museum.
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But, yeah, there really was no other way to go with Willow. (Poor Willow.) Given their relationship and the fact she's the wildest Wicca in the West, in the end she had to be the only one who knew for sure.
Wow
Re: Wow
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Because I wouldn't be me if I didn't find a minor little error: I think there's a word missing at the beginning of this part. It's where Dawn says:
"For the first time since she got LA,"
I presume you meant "got to LA."
Thanks very much for writing, and for sharing your writing.
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And *sigh* of course I miss a typo. Then again, I also missed that the Museum of the American Indian didn't even open until 2004. (I'll be in the corner banging my head against a wall for that one.)
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You played an interesting, and necessary game, with Xander's new perspective as he explained it to Willow matched against his struggle to determine what he needed to give each of his friends as a parting gift. It was a particularly intricate dance in the conversation with Willow. I thought you handled that balance between "overview knowledge" and the monkey wrench of free will masterfully.
I can't help but wonder if he got it wrong with Giles. The emotional fallout of an intimate one night stand where only one of them knew that's what it was. I could really see Giles going either way, seeking contact or feeling even more alone, after this experience. He's unlikely to ask for help in sorting his feelings on the matter out.
As hard as he tried to get through to Buffy I can't help but wonder if finding out about his death will make her blank out, at least for a time, all his words of forgiveness and love. Another place I wonder if he didn't stumble. There's going to be emotional fallout from her response to his declaration as well. Some things are better left unsaid. Heaven help them both if Buffy and Giles compare notes.
The tiny bit of matchmaking for Dawn was extremely clever.
Willow was completely heartbreaking and utterly right. Just beautiful.
I would have known Cordy's voice anywhere. Very nice job balancing her acid tongue with her compassion.
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And I'm glad you did pick up one thing: Xander's interactions with Dawn, Buffy, and Giles are pretty clumsy and I hoped (and I'm less certain I succeeded here) that each interaction in the line got better than the one before: from nearly losing Dawn completely at the beginning to having an actual honest conversation with Willow at the end. I think how well that worked depends on the reader's point of view there because, honestly, I can see arguments either way. Hence me writing the out in Willow's section where Xander admits that maybe they'll take what he said to heart, but maybe they won't.
So, yeah, I do agree with you to an extent on that one. I'm not entirely sure that Buffy and Giles will ultimately take their interactions with Xander in the spirit he intended. Dawn, for all the way that interaction nearly fell apart, is probably more likely to follow his advice than either Giles (reach out to people you care about) or Buffy (don't blame yourself for things that are out of your control).
And I did play his final declaration that was something totally selfish on his part (and it is, no getting around that), but I wanted to mirror Cordelia's good-bye to Angel (and yes, I'm still bitter that Cordelia was barely mentioned for all of Season 5 until she had to be mentioned). As to whether it'll hurt and help in the long run, I'm not sure about that either.
Willow by contrast has the benefit of knowing he was right. She expected that someone, somewhere would be delivering the message she got from Xander at some point, so actually hearing it from a trusted source counted as a very big benefit for herself. So she's got the built-in advantages that the others don't have.
Which is my long-winded way of saying that I do agree with you. :-)
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It is interesting how the original story played into your remix. The original story is good and my statements weren't a complaint (just in case I expressed myself badly as I often do) just an appreciation of that ability to screw up sometimes. What was it Xander told Willow about good intentions? :)
I did notice the progression although I may have credited too much to Willow's awareness of the true situation.
I'm right there with you on Cordy!
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you made me cry.
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That was gorgeous, Liz. Wonderful characterisation and beautifully written, I'm grinning like an idiot even as I'm snuffling. And thank you for reminding me about the original story, I'd forgotten how good it was.
I'm going to have this in my head for days now. Thank you for a wonderful piece of storytelling.
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This is really one of the most brilliant fanfics I have ever read. Just beautiful - I ached reading this, so much so that I wanted to stop reading it, but I couldn't. And now I'm all teary. I need some funny Xander fics to cheer me up.
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I love the dual structure of it - even knowing the reveal beforehand couldn't spoil it - and I thought you really captured so many wonderful things in each meeting that I totally can't express better because I'm still crying just thinking about it.
On a semi-related note, this is the first I've heard of the remixing thing, and it sounds like an awesome idea, but way beyond my skill level. Kudos to you for doing such a great job with it.
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Fortunately for the original writers, but unfortunately for the remixers, the original "ship" has to be preserved in some form, even if it's completely played down to no more than a line in passing. However, since you have access to the original author's entire catalog of stories (it's a minimum of 5 stories that are 1,000 words or more in at least one fandom for an "entrance fee" into the remix), it's usually fairly easy to work around it if you've got pairings that legitimately squick you out.
For the Remix (which is a once-a-year tradition)...seriously, give it a shot it's a lot of fun, not to mention a nail-biting challenge. You can access all six years through this link. This'll take you to the latest year, but if you look to the left under "links" you'll find links to the previous years if you want to check out the stories. The nice thing is that all of the stories are tagged in one form or another, so it's easy to find what interests you.
Aaaaaaand...I haven't even thanked you for being willing to "cross-over" and read the fic. :-)
Sorry about that. I just like encouraging people to try their hand at the remix at least once because it is a lot of fun...
Anyway, here goes: Thank you very much for giving this story a chance. :-)
I really do appreciate it when people step outside their comfort zone to read something I wrote. Then again, like I said, I'm the geniest of gen writers, so shipping-wise there ain't a whole lot of non-comfort zone there. *grins*
I'm glad you enjoyed the story and the construction. I'm especially pleased you liked the meta. Sometimes I get a bit long-winded when it comes to the writing process.
Again, thank you again for reading the story, and I hope to see you "drop by" again. Visitors are always welcome. :-)
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Do you mind if I rec you on my journal?
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Love this story so much. It's beautiful. Love Cordy's position in it, the affection Xander clearly has for her as well as the other four he goes to visit.
I have to admit, I am having TONS of original-fiction ideas centering on the whole Dawn situation that will arise in the course of the civil war. How upset would you be if I wrote something about a situation wherein an outsider in a civil war was forced to take up the standard of what both sides of the civil war used to stand for, due to necessity? I just think it's... fascinating. I dunno. It's not like I'll ever get published or anything, but when someone really inspires an idea pretty directly, I like to at least acknowledge the inspiration. (And, on the off chance I ever did get published, well, I do know your real name. =) )
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Hey! Long time no see! Glad you liked it.
As for using this as a stepping-off idea for original fic...ummmm, please don't take this the wrong way, but I'd really, really, REALLY prefer that you don't. (Which is another way of saying I'd really be pretty unhappy — not to mention loudly unhappy — if you did.)
A lot of that is because I'm toying around with an original fic that toys with the notion myself.
The thing is, civil wars aren't exactly new in history or in literature, so even if you decided to go ahead with it, there isn't a whole lot I can do to prove or disprove anything. *shrug*
Aaaand...apologies for jerk-i-tude
(Also, I think I misread you the first time, because I'm not all that sure my answer matches your message...gah!)
What I meant to say was...you can't own an idea. So the basic concept of "third party tries to uphold the ideals while a civil war rages around them" isn't something I own. It's a basic concept I've seen in other novels. So the basic concept I don't actually own.
Looking at my response, I'm almost pretty sure I misread you, and I totally apologize. *wince*
I've run into some issues in the recent past due to my fanfic input dropping as I (once more) re-arrange RL to make room for other stuff (like getting more physically active, researching some original fic ideas...etc.). Mostly people offering to "take stories off my hands." *rolleyes*
Plus, my idea for "stuck between two sides in a civil war" would probably be very different from your concept of it. :-)
At least I hope so.
Anyway, apologies again for the bad reply in the first go round. That'll teach me to respond when I'm half-way out the door, yes?
Re: Aaaand...apologies for jerk-i-tude
I think the workout affected you differently than you think. I reference you to panel four of this comic when I say: go eat a cookie.
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I have a fond hope that Doyle is right there with Cordelia and Xander.
I really hope that what Giles takes from things when he realizes what happened, was how much Xander cared for him.
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How on earth had I missed this up to now?
“That’s the problem with being not chosen,” Xander said.
Dawn gave him a confused look.
Xander picked up his coffee cup and saluted her with a toast. “Because in the end, we're the ones who have to do the choosing.”
Oooh, great line.
Oh. Okay. I think I figured out what's going on at the end of 2, when I went to 3/5 and re-read the summary. ~reads a little further Yep.
You know, I'm generally quite hostile to stories where I don't know what's going on. They have to be really good for me to keep reading, and quite exceptional for me to actually come to appreciate the confusion. You totally pulled it off. (Except that grasping enough to know what's going on means grasping enough to be utterly depressed.) I'm so glad I didn't read the headers on part one properly, and missed the note about it being a ghost story, because it was way, way cooler to unfold as I read. (Once I stopped being grumpy about being confused.)
The clueless tension between Giles and Xander... zomg, UST gold. So good.
“Are you going to kiss me now? Or do I have take charge and kiss you?:
Oh, dear, dear Xander. So hot.
Except that it already was too late.
You are a horrible, horrible person, and I don't know how you sleep at night.
You've said a few time in comments to others that you think of yourself as a gen writer, and found the G/X difficult, but believe me, you did a wonderful job, and you should feel encouraged to write more G/X any moment a bunny passes by.
Xander curling against Cordelia (I love that it's Cordelia, didn't see that coming), trying not to see himself burning is absolutely harrowing. For this. You survived Sunnydale for this. Damn. Dying alone, desecrated: that's brutal.
Willow's instant-knowing, gyah. It was the perfect switch. Him clutching her and begging her not to go evil, not like this, not for him, oh, man. Tears in my eyes.
Xander threatening Willow. Whoa. Seriously, whoa... And it's all the harsher because the Willow we know could totally become that person. Saying goodbye to her hurt like hell.
Wow. I mean, wow. I can't believe it took me so long to find this. Two years! It was amazing, liz. I finished it and went straight back to read Dawn's part and reasses it - without the confusion nagging at me, I had a far better appreciation for the depth of insight that you've written for this coming civil war. Every one one of these people we love is going to fail in some way, and part of me longs for the full, terrible story, of them pitted against one another. Though really, this taste you give us is enough.
This was one of the best stories I've read in an incredibly long time. I wish I'd written it. Thank you.
S.