Through division
Here in death's dream kingdom
The golden vision reappears
I see the eyes but not the tears
This is my affliction’
T.S. Eliot
“Well then, where shall I begin?” Althanea pondered. “As many of you know I have dedicated most of my adult life to living wisely and well and in harmony with Nature. My life has been guided by Wiccan principles and I have tried to develop and share my gifts and abilities in ways that would better the lives of all I met. I was lucky enough to meet my beloved late husband Stefan through a coven I joined during my University years.”
“Our eldest daughter Celeste was a beautiful girl,” Althanea smiled wistfully and squeezed her granddaughter’s hand. “From a young age it was clear that she had the sight, and she would delight all her friends and family with funny wee stories of people dressed in old-fashioned clothes or the little girl who used to live on the farm before us. Her father and I had already been practicing our spiritual beliefs for some years by that time, and we had just established Rede Coven.
The years passed quickly and Celeste grew up into a stunning young woman, bright, funny and confident. She was always keen to try new experiences, see new places, meet new people. One of the new people she met while living in Crawley was a young lad by the name of Rupert Giles,” she smiled in Rupert’s direction. “Rupert was attending a small private College in East Grinstead that seemed to specialise in a strange assortment of subjects. One of his best mates there was a handsome young Scotsman by name of Alastair McNair, nicknamed, like many Scotsmen, Mac.
Well, before long Celeste and Mac had fallen in love. Six months later they were married, with Rupert standing up as their Best Man. Mac graduated from the Academy and was sent to work at the Central office and within a few years Celeste was pregnant. They were so happy. They’d come down to Devon for the odd weekend, and sometimes Celeste would stay for a whole week while Mac went back to London.
During one of these stays Celeste began to tell us of the visions she’d been having. They had only started after she’d got pregnant, and would come to her on the dream plane. She’d begun a journal to record all of the details of these dreams, and sketch certain images that had featured strongly. She felt a strong connection to these events and somehow felt her child would also be connected.
Two months later Celeste gave birth to a gorgeous wee girl, our precious Rowan here. For two years the young family were so happy. Then, one Sunday evening, as they were coming to pick up their little girl from her Grandparent’s farm where she’d stayed the weekend, a lorry hit their car. They were both killed instantly. We were all devastated, but life had to go on as we suddenly added Rowan to our two youngest children still living at home.” Althanea paused here to wipe her eyes and take a sip of water.
“I know this is a long involved story, but it’s just so that you know how much a part of our family history this involves. From a young age, Rowan too showed many of the gifts her mother had had. Once, when she was four, she found her mother’s dream diary in a drawer in my room. I’d kept it when we collected all of Celeste and Mac’s belongings, and had myself read the accounts recorded within many times. On this day Rowan had been playing in my room and found the journal. Of course she couldn’t yet read at that age, but 10 minutes later she came trotting out, pointing to one of the sketches and saying ‘Look Grammy, it’s from my ‘nigh-nighs’ – the term we used to describe her dreams. Buffy, I’ve brought that journal here with me today. It’s almost twenty years old but we’ve looked after it carefully. I’d like you to read it.”
At that, Rowan hopped up and brought the black leather bound dairy over to Buffy. The soft worn leather was warm in Buffy’s hands, bringing to mind leather she’d felt beneath her fingertips before. She looked up to see Dawn and Willow standing before her.
“Do you mind?” Willow asked as she pointed to the padded arm of the chair.
“No, that’s fine. Come on and join me you two,” she offered as she settled back in the chair. All three girls peered at the book as Buffy opened it to the first page. Quickly they began to scan the neat, cursive script in front of them. Then, as one, the three girls gasped.
“Oh my God!” Buffy exclaimed.
“This is unreal,” Dawn seconded as Buffy turned to the next page and they began reading again.
As the girls read, their furious scanning and page turning punctuated by gasps of amazement and disbelief, the room filled with quiet chatter. Giles had gone over to speak with Althanea, checking the details of the bits of family history he didn’t know and offering sympathy and comfort for those bits he did. Rowan, noting her seat taken had thus gone over to chat with Xander. They had met for the first time last week and she was rather intrigued by the one-eyed warrior.
In the other corner, Faith and Robin sat, drawn close together and whispering quietly to each other. Andrew was the only one up on his feet, wandering around from seat to seat trying to pick up on people’s conversations until he was told to get lost.
Finally Buffy cleared her throat. “I’d like to ask if I could borrow this for the next few days so that I can read it more thoroughly, but I’ve skimmed through it enough to tell you that this journal contains a complete and detailed account of the battle at the Hellmouth. It’s not in any particular sequence, and is written from a range of viewpoints, including my own and Spike’s. It includes descriptions and sketches of things like the scythe, the amulet, mine and Spike’s linked hands. All of the details are correct to a tee.”
“Bloody Hell,” Giles muttered, while Xander, Faith and Andrew gasped in disbelief and Robin just shook his head.
“It also describes the heatwave and the emotions involved in our connection. And it describes a part I didn’t get to see – Spike standing his ground, laughing in the face of death before being consumed by the flames and disintegrating. But not into ashes, no, into a little cloud which then gets sucked into that damn amulet lying on the ground of the cavern.”
“So Spike got sucked up by a mystical dust buster,” Xander chortled before noticing the annoyed glances directed his way. “What? I thought it was funny.”
Rowan, still sitting next to Xander, raised her eyebrow at him, shaking her head slightly. She waited for him to mumble “Sorry,” before turning to face the room.
“Actually the amulet is the key to Spike’s whereabouts and to his return” the young witch addressed the others shyly. “But before we get into that I’d like to tell you my part in all this. As far back as I can remember, I’ve always dreamt of the Battle. Listening to Buffy describe her experiences was like listening to somebody else read out a story that I’d written. But of course Buffy is the writer herself, I’ve just read the story over and over so many times …” Rowan reminisced fondly. “And I can tell you, that as a young girl, as a teenager, even today if I am honest,” she grinned coyly, “that dream provided me with what I consider the romantic ideal. While other little girls based their romantic dreams on fairy tale or movie couples, mine were always centred on the ‘lovers’ as I came to call them. I had an added advantage however, not only have I always been able to watch that amazing love scene, but I’ve always been able to feel their emotions too. Their love for one another is absolute,” she added dreamily, while Buffy’s cheeks flamed red.
“I’m sorry if this sounds voyeuristic Buffy, its never felt that way to me. I’ve always felt more part of the story rather than just an observer. You cannot imagine how it feels to actually come face to face with you. In a way, you and Spike are my oldest, my most beloved friends. I’ve spent more time with the two of you than anyone else in my life except Grammy, and Dadda when he was alive.” She took a deep breath and continued.
“So meeting Buffy last week was startling to say the least. Something hit me as you walked across the yard towards the car, but I couldn’t understand what it was. As I grasped your hands, the familiarity had washed over me and I realised I was standing in front of and holding the hand of a legend, my own fairy tale heroine. And in that flash I could sense so much about you Buffy,” Rowan said, looking directly at the astounded slayer. “I could sense your sorrow, your longing, your guilt and confusion. But I could also sense the new life within you. And Buffy. Through you, I could sense Spike, only faintly and far away, but he was there. We’re going to find him Buffy.”
Buffy was weeping openly now, tears flowing down her cheeks as a tremulous smile graced her lips. Willow and Dawn, still sitting either side of her, clasping her hands, were also rather misty eyed.
“Do you really think you may be able to locate Spike, Rowan?” Giles asked.
“Oh yes Giles, I am absolutely certain of it. You see for me, the dreams didn’t stop at the collapse of the Hellmouth. I’ve seen how the story goes on, what happens next if you will, and I’ve seen how the story ends. No little girl is going to choose as her heroes a fairy tale couple that doesn’t get a happy ending. Don’t worry Buffy, we have a way to go yet, and some danger ahead, but you’ll rescue your prince and you’ll get your happily ever after. And I guess that means the world won’t end either huh?” Rowan grinned.
“Well maybe not, at least not until next time anyway,” Xander agreed wryly.