Another chapter of Tempus in which we discover what the metal thingamy Spike, Buffy and Tara liberated from the Council's archives is used for, Tara explains her theory on why the Powers sometimes get involved and then don't at other times, Xander makes an appearance and well we discover what happened to Giles.

Be warned there is a rather worriesome bit with Willow and Rack - not for the faint hearted!


Loads of hugs and thank you to megan_peta and lmbossy for their betaing magic and support! Also I want to wish a Bon voyage to lmbossy she's off on her hols!

Her hands were deft and self-assured as she carefully cleaned the rust and residue of what Tara suspected was mud off the plaque. Her strong fingers held the pad of cotton wool which she’d soaked in white spirits firmly as the Wiccan painstakingly cleaned off another half inch, humming quietly as she worked. The concierge hadn’t turned a hair when Tara had called down for some cleaning materials and teak oil. Then again, she figured it was probably one of the tamer requests he’d had. It had only taken her a few minutes using the laptop Clem had got for her to find the right way to clean up the metal; she suspected from the dull gleam that it was bronze.

Tara rotated her tense shoulders and eased some of the muscle strain. She had managed to get about four hours sleep after leaving Spike and Buffy, but in the end, the events of the night had weighed on her conscience and she had gotten up to take a long bath. Anything to relax. All she could think of was the explosion and how many lives had been lost. Something inside her roiled darkly; intuitively the usually serene Wicca had known it was something mystical that had caused the conflagration. The loss of innocent life was something all Wiccans mourned. It was a grief that could easily dislodge her focus, so instead of focusing on the deaths, Tara chose to begin the clean up of the purloined sheet of metal and look for clues to help them. She couldn’t help but feel that it would bring them just that little bit closer to Willow—bring them that little bit closer to the end of this heartache that had consumed them for so long.

She sighed and gently placed the piece of metal on the table and wiped her hands clean with the soft towel that lay across her lap. It was nearly clean; all that was left was to wash it and then dry it with the blow dryer before oiling the metal. Using the back of her hands, she smoothed a few tendrils of hair back off her face and sank back in the plush fabric of the sofa to stare up at the ceiling. Her thoughts fell to wondering how on earth the piece of metal would help them find the spell that would call Dawn’s essence from all of them, allowing it to coalesce back into one being. Tara was also worried that maybe not all of Dawn would be removed from their beings. All of them had changed on an intrinsic level. Yes, their eyes were tinged with an unearthly green, but other parts of them had been affected by the dissipation of the Key’s power into their being.

Buffy was stronger. She may not have noticed it, but she was. It was something only an outside observer would probably notice. Buffy was used to her supernatural strength and undoubtedly was so familiar with her abilities that the magnification had gone unnoticed.

Spike’s changes were more obvious; he was now a card-carrying member of the not-so-sun-challenged. Tara prayed to the Powers that they would not be so malicious as to steal away something so precious to the vampire and his lover. She did doubt it as there had been a change within the vampire on such a level that she had easily noticed it. It was as if his body had been forever altered, his aura fairly glowed at her when she chose to look at it.

And finally, her change.

The power within had been boosted to levels beyond anything she had ever experienced. Even compared to Willow. Tara had not been able to gauge its strength so far, as she was not one to abuse her gift. She had meditated and tried to sense if it was a borrowed strength, but from what she could tell, it wasn’t. That was the crux of her worries, although the pensive Wicca was confidant in her strength of will. She knew she would never abuse the magicks within her; it was not in her nature. This last thought saddened her as this had been Willow’s downfall—her lack of discipline. Tara frowned. Maybe she did owe her father and brother something. They had beaten her strength of will into her and forced her to deny the inherent magicks she possessed to the point that she had never developed a reliance on it. Not like Willow. She cringed away from considering Willow’s changes. They had no way of judging what the Key had done to her former lover. Not yet anyway.

Would they get all of Dawn back when they caught up with Willow and Rack?

Would Willow keep any of the Key’s fundamental nature within her?

Tara shuddered, sat back up and resumed her cleaning of the Clavian plaque.

Slowly from under the grime, faint lettering and delicate scrollwork began to appear.

~~~~~~~~~~

Her hand seemed so frail in his. Xander shifted his weight and leant forward. The muscles in his back were now healed but the movement didn’t prevent them from complaining at the stress he put on them.
He grimaced, pain flittering across his face for a moment. The healing process had been slow but finally he was up and about and able to sit with Amy.

Xander glanced down at the ashen face of the fallen Wicca. He wished there was something more he could offer, but he wasn’t anything special. Just a guy who had probably seen way too much of the horrors that the Hellmouth attracted. So he sat and held her hand and talked to her still form, hoping she could hear him. The druids had agreed it was a good idea; that the sound of a familiar and friendly voice may bring her back. Xander sighed and launched into the Zombie mask party from hell story. He had slowly been working his way through all the experiences and adventures that he had had with Buffy and the rest of the gang. He had even managed not to veer away from mentioning Willow. God he hoped she was okay, despite the Skanky Evilina version that he had last seen in the hospital. Xander sighed. He missed Willow and hoped the others found her soon.

He found the recounting of the past few years soothing, and in a way, a startling revelation. The last remaining original Scooby had gradually begun to realise that Buffy’s life was not all fun and adventures, but hard, scary and thankless. He ruefully admitted to himself in the middle of one long, dark night of maudlin reflection that he had originally latched onto Buffy because he thought slaying was cool, and being involved in the marginal way that he had been at the beginning might encourage the coolness to rub off on him. He felt so shallow and kinda dumb. He needed to make amends somehow. Xander silently promised himself to be more tolerant and less with the judgy stuff and also be a nicer person. He wished that he could salvage something of his relationship with Anya but he doubted that the ex-demoness would touch him with a barge pole after his less than stellar treatment of her. Xander sighed softly and glanced down at the pale, still face of one of his school friends. It was amazing what a bit of reflection did for the soul. He girded his raddled loins again and decided not to abandon his post.

He would stay here with Amy until she woke up.

No matter how long it took—forever if it had to be.

He needed to make amends somehow.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tara dropped the etched piece of metal on the table in surprise. “Huh…” She gulped loudly.

It appeared that the Powers had predicted that Dawn would be zapped into the winds and had made provisions to help their Champions on their quest.

“Gaia protect us,” she gasped.

Tara rose and walked to the door. She was halfway across the hall when she heard Buffy’s giggle and the deep rumble of Spike’s voice. She rolled her eyes. “Jeez, you’d think they’d run out of energy sometime!”

She slipped back into her rooms and clicked the door shut. There was time for a nap, a shower and a full English breakfast before Spike and Buffy were done for the morning.

Tara shook her head at the two of them. “I swear, the tantric energies those two give off would power the national grid.”

~~~~~~~~

She’d been patient – she really had, but how long was a Wiccan supposed to wait?

Tara needed to speak to Spike and Buffy soon. The inscription she had discovered was not something that she or any of them could wait on. In the end, the agitated girl chickened out of knocking on their door. There was only so much giggling from Spike she could stomach! Instead Tara ordered up room service and had it delivered to their room. One thing she had learned about Spike in London was that he wasn’t one to turn down something disgusting called Black Pudding. So she ordered up a double helping plus food for herself and Buffy of the less yuck variety and had it delivered to their rooms, with a note asking for them to call her when they were dressed.

She ran her fingers over the now gleaming piece of metal and gazed hopefully at the door, waiting for the knock.

And she wasn’t disappointed.

“Colomba, you in there?” Spike’s sleepy voice echoed down the hall.

“Finally!” she exclaimed and tugged the door open, to be greeted by a rumpled looking Spike.

He was dressed only in a pair of clinging black silk pyjama bottoms, his hair curling in all directions and a smirk teasing at the edge of his lips. Tara blushed at the crimson welts that ran down the side of his neck and littered his pale sleek torso. Looked like Spike wasn’t the only one who liked a nibble. “You ordered the grub?” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the trolley laden with silver domed covered plates and a blushing Buffy signing for it.

Tara ducked her head and tried not to turn bright crimson, but failed. “Sorry, but I found something and you guys were…well err…” she trailed off and rather than saying anything else to a bemused looking vampire, Tara ducked past him and scurried over to Buffy.

The slayer was enveloped in a large fluffy white terry towelling dressing gown. Her hair was dishevelled and her lips kiss swollen.

“Hey.” Buffy smiled at Tara and turned to thank the waiter. “Spike, tip?” She waved her hands in mock helplessness.

“Got it, pet.” Spike padded back into their rooms and, sifting through his clothes he located a battered wallet, peeled off a note and handed it to the waiting man. “Thanks, mate.” Spike swung the door shut and turned to face the two women. He leaned back against it and crossed his arms over his muscled chest, tilting his head in question. “So what’s got you so excited, Glinda?”

“Here! Look!” She thrust the cleaned plaque into Buffy’s hand and then started to unload all the food onto the dining table in the suite. “Have you checked to see if Wes found anything out? He might have emailed while you two were – err, umm.” She glanced up at the ceiling and wished she hadn’t opened her mouth.

Buffy smacked a sniggering Spike on the back of the head and glared at him. “God, and you’re how old?” She shook her head as she retrieved the laptop and began to check the mail.

“Whoa, go Wes and Anya! They worked out what it is!” Buffy squeaked, and then laughed as she shook her head in disbelief. “Man, don’t I feel like I was hit with the dumb stick.”

Spike straightened and prowled over to where Buffy sat shaking her head. “Wot?”

“Seriously guys, talk about us all having a major blonde moment.” Buffy grabbed the battered book that Whistler had given her and then reached out her free hand. “Metal thingie please.” Tara handed it to her and then groaned when Buffy flicked open the book and laid the cipher on it. Spike snorted with laughter and shook his head. “See? Easy peasy. We do the matching up until the cut outs make with the words that make sense and then we have the Dawn recovery spell!” Buffy bounced excitedly in her seat, relief evident in her face; they were finally one big step closer to getting her sister back.

“Neat, but Slayer, have you read the scribbles on that thing?” Spike reached over and ran his finger through the heavily incised words and decorations that ran around the edges. Buffy squinted at the words and then sighed.

“I don’t speak Latin, dumb ass.” She flounced back in the seat and pouted up at him.

Spike sensibly refrained from saying anything else about who was the thicker of the two of them; instead he began to translate the inscription, his eyebrows floating higher and higher with each word he translated.

Buffy blinked in surprise and unconsciously echoed Tara’s initial reaction. “Huh?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a clatter of cutlery on china as the three blonds ate their breakfast and discussed their discoveries. All of them were still slightly in shock at the simple inscription that had been left for them to decipher. In its simplest, terms it had said, ‘In case of sunrise being destroyed, use the incantation to bring about a new dawn.’ Spike had managed to refrain from poking fun at the clumsy attempt at poetry. Who was he to talk about crap verse?

“So basically, the Powers saw all of this happening back in the day and set all the pieces up so that we would be able to get the Platelet back?” Spike shook his head. “Why not just stop it from happening in the first place?”

Tara peered owlishly at him from over the top of her teacup as she sipped the Earl Grey. “It’s simple really. They knew that events would unfold which they wouldn’t be able to stop, and needed you or Buffy in place to help.” She set down the teacup and buttered a piece of toast before taking a contemplative bite. Swallowing, she continued. “Basically, some things would’ve happened even if they had saved Dawnie. Things we needed to be around to help with. Amy, for instance. She needed to break her addiction to that man and choose to help us when she did. Wes and Groo needing your help to find somewhere to fight for the Powers…Angel needing to be rescued—”

“Connor needing you to help him fit in there,” Buffy interrupted as realisation dawned.

“Sodding puppets for them, we are,” Spike complained half-heartedly.

Tara shook her head. “No, not puppets. We were all critical to help those in need, never puppets. We do have a choice. We could choose not to fight, not to help. But we don’t. Spike, look at you. You could’ve chosen not to help Buffy fight against Angelus, but you did and you were evil then. Free will. You chose to prove to me that I wasn’t a demon when I was ready to destroy myself—that’s free will. That’s what it’s about. Making the right decisions to save the world. The Powers only intervene when events are out of our control, like Dawn.”

Buffy’s jaw dropped as she listened to Tara. She had explained everything that had nagged at her since she had become a slayer. She shook her head and gave Tara a wry smile. “And what are your theories on the meaning of life? Because damn, I wish Giles had heard that!”

Spike chewed on a piece of blood sausage thoughtfully, mutely digesting Tara’s wise words. To be honest, her revelations had stunned him into silence. For most of his life and unlife he had railed against the unfairness of being a plaything of the gods. Tara—with a few deft sentences—had knocked all of it on its proverbial arse. He realised what she had said was true and in a way his entire life had been shaped that way. From the moment he had succumbed to the lure of Dru’s fangs, to the first time he had clapped eyes on his slayer, to now…all of it was a question of freewill, but certain events had to be included. If he hadn’t thrown in with the slayer the first time, she might have not survived the fight with Angelus – something that he couldn’t even stomach now. Also, if the Powers had not made sure he had been chipped and on the Hellmouth interacting with the Slayer and her friends then he would never have been able to change to the point where she would look at him without wanting to stake him. It might have bothered him in the past being manipulated, but not so much nowadays. Hell, he’d called himself love’s bitch often enough, but maybe he should’ve said ‘Powers that Be’s’ bitch.

He nodded to himself; yes, some events had to happen no matter how hard you fought them. Dru dumping his arse for the slimy git with antlers was a good example of that. If she hadn’t, they would’ve limped on for another century and he would never have found the peace he had now with Buffy. He shot the slayer an almost bashful look; his eyes devoured her profile as she sipped delicately at her coffee. Now she was one event he didn’t think he would ever whine about, not ever. His unbeating heart filled with affection and even more respect for the gentle Wicca that had slipped into his affections. ‘She was a right smart bird’, Spike thought as he nodded at Tara.

Before any of them could say another word, the phone rang.

Buffy answered it, her voice bright and relaxed when she realised it was the Watcher who had helped them break into the library. “Oh, hey Kristen, you okay?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giles groaned as the lid on the trunk was thrown open. The light shining down from the hundreds of flickering candles in the massive chandelier blinded him and he blinked against the blur. He groped for his glasses and straightened them. One of the lenses had been smashed in the explosion, which left him with a distorted perspective from that eye, but the other lens appeared to be fine. But on having seen the face and naked form of the girl sneering down at him, he rather wished both lenses had been destroyed—or at the very least could have the pleasure of blindness once again revisit him.

Willow straightened and spoke to someone behind her. “Get him out and chain him up over there. We don’t want Rupie to miss anything – fun.” Her crimson painted lips parted in a cruel smile as she placed her hands on her bare hips and watched as the two Retorx demons Rack had hired for grunt work pulled out the disoriented watcher. The metal hoops adorning various parts of her body glinted in the light of the candles that were scattered around the richly decorated baroque room. Giles shied away from her nude form, appalled at her apparent ease in parading around naked in front of him and showing off various parts of her anatomy that should not be pierced in his opinion.

“Willow, really, what on earth has gotten into you?” he asked in a thick reedy voice, his entire being shock and horror.

“That would be me, many times, and in so many places.” The tall greasy-haired magic peddler stepped into the cavernous room and eyed Willow’s pierced breasts appreciatively. “And by the time you’ve outstayed your welcome, you will have witnessed a lot of others getting into her.” He stepped up behind Willow and ran an almost impersonal hand down the redhead’s torso; his fingers lingering on her pale pink nipples briefly before reaching down to tweak the stud in between her legs. Willow’s mouth slackened with pleasure, and her head dropped back against Rack’s chest as she widened her stance to allow him more access between her legs. Her excitement at being touched so intimately in front of someone she had once viewed as a friend and mentor was apparent by the juices following down her quivering pale, freckled thighs.

“Dear god, Willow – stop this. It’s revolting.” Giles gagged at the sight of her being mauled by the scarred man and shut his eyes. In all his years he had never witnessed anything so appalling – he shook in revulsion at the sight of one of the children he had viewed as a daughter allowing herself to be debased.

“Oh, Giles, we haven’t even begun to freak you out.” Willow blew him a mocking kiss and watched as he was chained to the wall, a thick metal collar clasped around his neck anchoring his head to the wall. She had created it specially so he wouldn’t miss any of the action. “We are gonna rock your world. You thought Eygon was bad, just wait till you see what Rack and I can do.” She gasped as her lover forced her down onto her knees, her eyes glittering appreciatively as she heard his zipper being drawn down.

“Oh yesss,” she hissed as she felt his cock press into her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tara slid her thumbnail into the small catch of the gold cage which held the crystal that Lorne had given her. Holding it up, she whispered Willow’s name and waited for the magicks to work their will. Behind her, Spike and Buffy watched curiously. It was the first time they had witnessed the scrying crystal work.

Slowly a pale blue glow filled the room, a pulse of light shot out of the now glowing crystal and began to spin in front of them, slowly growing larger and flattening itself out. In the myriad of glittering flashes, a map of Europe began to appear, its edges slightly blurred as the power of the spell established itself and then it rapidly pulled into focus.

“Whoa!” Buffy stared in delight at the heavily detailed map. She could see the small rivers twisting and moving within the landscape, and if she focused on one particular spot it would enlarge and show the roads and byways in very minute aspect. “It’s amazing.” She managed to refrain from reaching out and touching it, imagining it would be like a soap bubble and contact with her fingers would make the map pop and disappear.

“Jolly Green Giant gave this to you? Bloody impressive bit of spell making, that,” Spike nodded with approval. “Saves on a lot of leg work, too.”

Tara didn’t reply, her eyes were scanning the map searching for the telltale blip of light which would reveal where Willow and Rack were. Eventually a small red glow appeared and began to pulse slightly. “There.” She pointed at the glow.

“Looks like we’re heading to La Serinessmia.” Spike watched as Tara carefully latched the orb back into its cage, hung the it back around her neck and tucked it away under her shirt.

“La whosits?”

“Venice, Buffy,” Tara explained. “I’ll go call and see if there are any flights available today.”

“Venice,” Buffy squeaked, forgetting for a moment the seriousness of their situation and channelled instead the excitement of going to one of the most romantic places in the world. “Awesome.”

Tara pulled the door open and stepped back with a gasp. “Oh goddess, it’s you”. There was a group of men standing behind one slightly older one who had his hand raised in preparation for knocking.

“Terribly sorry, Miss.” Travers bowed slightly and then looked over her shoulder at Buffy; he pointedly ignored the vampire and nodded at the slayer. “Miss Summers, a pleasure to see you.” He cleared his throat pointedly, waiting for an invitation.

Buffy crossed her arms and tried not to freak. ‘Oh God, they saw us break in! They have us on camera…we’re so dead. I am gonna kill that Kristin chick, she so told on us. Oh my God, the metal thingie!’ She edged sideways and then mentally sighed in relief when she saw that Spike had casually dropped a serviette over the incriminating evidence.

“Well, well, well, got a sniff of a slayer and the old tea drinking pervs all come out of their tweedy cupboards,” Spike drawled as he shifted his stance and placed a gentle hand on Buffy’s shoulder, silently telling all the men in the hall just exactly what the lay of the land was. “Haven’t seen you lot around since you ran away from Sunnyhell with your tails between your legs cos there was a god around. Bunch of pansies, leaving a girl to fight your battles. Oh, wait.” He paused and raised a finger and waved it at Travers. “That’s what you do best. Hide behind brave girls and wait for them to die fighting the good fight.”

Buffy slammed an elbow into Spike’s ribs. “Less with the reminding of dead slayers ‘Mr I fought and killed two’,” she hissed through her teeth at him. Turning her attention back to the delegation of tweed at her door, “I thought you guys were still hiding under a rock? Guess you finally got the memo that I was back from the dead?”

Travers gazed enigmatically at Buffy for a moment and then stepped into the room followed by his men.

“Did he even send flowers?” Buffy asked loudly.

“Yeah, he did, but pet, please don’t.” Spike hated her treating her death so casually and he especially hated that she was being so blasé in front of the very man who set her on a path to death. .

Buffy’s eyes softened and she turned to face Spike. Ignoring the outraged gasps from the younger tweedy ones, she laid a gentle hand against his face and whispered her apologies.

“Miss Summers, we are here to help. Not to cause anymore trouble.” Travers gazed enigmatically at Tara, realising that she was the former lover of the witch he and Cavanaugh had failed to stop. “Miss Maclay, my sincerest condolences.”
Tara gasped and grabbed at her throat. “No, please, she’s not dead! We know where she is, but how do you know she is d…dead?” Tears filled her eyes; she thought she had cried herself out, but now…

“No, no, please Ms Maclay, my sincerest apologies. I meant that I was sorry about the company Ms Rosenberg has taken up with. It must be very distressing for you and all your friends.” Travers glanced around the room and then sank tiredly down in a Louis XVI chair. His shoulders slumped with exhaustion and stress. The two men with him sat down at the now abandoned breakfast table while the third man took a position by the door. Spike eyed this last one; something about him tickled his senses.

“Oh,” Tara sighed in relief.

Buffy crossed her arms and stomped over to where Travers sat. “Not to be rude or anything. Actually yes, to be totally rude, what are you doing here?”

“I am here to offer help.” Travers sat back and waited for the inevitable explosion from the unpredictable slayer. He knew it would be an uphill battle but he wanted her to accept his help. He owed her and Quentin Travers was one to repay his debts. She had saved the world countless times in the past, unrewarded or even unremarked on by him or the Council, but in sacrificing herself to stop Glory unleashing hell on earth, the Head Watcher had finally realised something. She was a true heroine—a Champion. He had mourned her loss silently and allowed the realisation that all his years of service had been tainted by his ambition. He had not been the man he could have been; the small woman who stood in front of him had taught him an important lesson with her selfless death.

Humility.

With that lesson taught, Quentin had learned even more. The Council wasn’t a tool for his career; he was a tool for the Council, and in turn for the Slayer, and more importantly, for the greater good. After a period of mourning he had started to make changes. Some had been unpopular with the older members such as Wyndham-Pryce, but he had railroaded the changes through. Surprisingly he had become something of a hero to the younger generations of Watchers and with their support he had begun to implement further changes behind the scenes. But now it was time to step out into the light. The fall of the redheaded witch had been the ideal time to show his support for the Slayer. So he had sent in Cavanaugh, but that mission had been a failure. Undaunted, Travers had decided to take a more direct route, and had come to the Slayer with help.

“Yeah and at what price?” Buffy asked archly.

“None, as I said. I’m here to help.” His quiet announcement shocked Buffy into silence. She stood there, her mouth opening and shutting, no words escaping. As Travers reached into his overcoat, Spike tensed. Travers removed his hand and spread his fingers. “Calm down, William. I only want to retrieve this.” He pulled out a thick manila envelope and handed it to the still mute slayer. “This is something to look at later; I am here to assist you in the retrieval of your friend.”

Buffy put the envelope down without even glancing at it. She wasn’t about to give Travers the satisfaction, she would have a read of it later with Spike after the pod Travers had gone. “So you wanna help us get Willow back?”

“Yes, our initial attempted failed.”

Cavanaugh shifted uncomfortably at Travers’ calm words. He had spent an hour or so being healed and all he wanted to do was go and sleep through the itching period of the healing, but instead he was here. It was the first time since his failure with the previous slayer that he had been in the presence of the chosen one and it make his heart ache. She was the polar opposite of his former charge but the strength of her power shone out and it humbled him.

“W…what do you mean?” Tara asked hesitantly, utterly at a loss on how to view the change in the formerly arrogant man she had met. But he was different now—his aura was calm and benevolent and there was an inner peace and determination within him that called to her senses.

“They managed to booby trap their hotel and when we attempted to go in, it exploded,” Travers explained, regret colouring his voice. He knew that the image of the black body bags being carried out would stay with him until his dying day.

“Oh goddess…that, that was Willow?” Tara clutched at her throat in shock; she tried not to gag but failed. Spike swooped forward and caught her shoulders and steadied her as she retched. “Willow killed all those poor people,” she gasped and then her body heaved.

“It gets worse,” Cavanaugh finally spoke. “They took Giles.”