STILL NIGHT TWO
Angel, rather than waiting like Spike was doing, decided to meet Buffy as she was coming back from dropping poor Tara off at the cabin. He watched as she stopped and spoke with Willow for a few seconds. Buffy tried to make her expression serious as she and Willow spoke about Willow’s strongly unfortunate but cured condition. Angel smiled as she smiled.
He missed her.
Buffy gave the hurt- and worried-looking Willow a hug and set off away from the cabin toward Angel. She grinned outright as she walked and tried to mentally convince herself that it wasn’t funny if Willow didn’t think it was funny.
“Is Tara going to be all right?” Angel asked softly. Buffy jumped and whirled around.
“Geez, Angel,” she said, and grinned. “Yeah. She’s just unconscious. Nothing else seems to be wrong, but I’ve got Willow setting up a mental connection between she and I in case I’m wrong.” She gave him a hug. “It’s been a while… though, maybe not from your perspective… when are you from?” She assumed that he knew about the wacky time flux thing.
“2000,” he said, confirming her suspicions. “I left about ten months ago.”
Buffy nodded. “Has the Faith thing happened yet?”
Angel winced and the two of them began to walk back toward where the machine was. “I just came to apologize to you about being such an ass about it.”
Buffy grinned. “Ouch. So your tribe is less with the fun than even I thought.”
Angel smirked. “We thought maybe Riley was dead for a while, but it turns out he was a big damn hero.” He made a face. “Anya’s pleased, though. Apparently they disappeared ‘underwater’ for hours. It was night when I found them. Anya’s barely let go of him since.” He paused. “So when are you from?”
She blinked. “2003, but I don’t remember much past when you remember. I think it’s so that we don’t alert each other of future events and end up changing them.”
Angel nodded. “I know Anya, but I don’t think I’ve ever met her… well, except for that time I came to Sunnydale without telling you about it, but… what?” he asked, responding to the expression on Buffy’s face. He followed her line of sight to see the bleach blonde vampire with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
Spike nodded slowly. “I was wondering…” he started, and then decided against finishing his sentence. He smiled sadly at Buffy and turned and walked away.
“Spike…” Buffy called after him.
Angel looked between Spike’s retreating figure and Buffy’s worried look. “Is all that worry because he has a soul, or because there’s something between you?” he asked, trying not to sound anything other than observant.
Buffy looked slowly up at him. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
Angel shook his head slowly, and looked at his feet. “Go after him,” he told her quietly.
She snapped her head around at him. “Are you sure?”
Angel nodded, and without meaning to, caressed her cheek. “I’ll see you later.” He turned and walked in the opposite direction, toward his camp.
Buffy watched him go, and then sprinted to catch up to Spike. She jogged up beside him. “Hey,” she said.
He glanced over and tried not to be too thrilled about the Slayer having ditched the other vampire so soon. “Tara all right?” he mumbled.
She grinned. “Damn. You’re all the same, aren’t you?”
Spike raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word. “Uh… yeah,” Buffy stammered. “She’ll be fine. Willow’s going to yell in my head if there’s a problem.” She snorted. “I just can’t believe Jeff, a normal guy…” she looked up at Spike in alarm. “He is a normal guy, right?” Spike nodded. Buffy looked satisfied. “I just can’t believe a normal guy would put so many of us through that if he knew it was dangerous. I mean, you and I were fine, but Tara wouldn’t have been. She has incredible internal strength, but she’s… only human.”
Spike only nodded.
Buffy clucked her tongue. “Come on, Spike. We’re both from basically the same time frame, we know what’s what. I don’t feel for Angel what I feel for you anymore,” she lied.
Spike smirked. “And the staring deep into each other’s eyes before the challenge was just a warming up tactic, was it?”
Buffy hesitated. “Well, no. I was… I was startled, that’s all. He was there and I haven’t seen him since I un-died. It was a shocker.” She looked up at Spike, who was pretending to pretend to stifle a look that clearly said ‘yeah right’. “Okay, okay. I’ll always have feelings for Angel. It’s the way it is. And, and you’re just going to have to deal with it.”
Spike smiled. “I already have, pet. It’s always a punch in the face is all.”
Buffy frowned. “…Spike… are you, within your recent memory, dead?”
Spike laughed aloud. “Buffy, I’ve been dead for a hundred years.”
“That’s not what I mean.” She stopped and turned to him. “Why is Kennedy a Slayer?”
“Because she’s…” he stopped. “Because everyone is.”
“Right. This happened in a great battle. That destroyed Sunnydale. But it wasn’t the battle that destroyed Sunnydale…”
“…it was me.” He finished for her, a look of slight horror on his face.
“And it k-killed you,” she said. They both stopped in their tracks for a second. Spike sat down on a nearby mossy rock. Buffy kept standing and stared at him in fascination.
“Buffy…” he started, voice barely more than a whisper. “We weren’t this close when you came to visit me in my cave.”
She wasn’t listening. She was reviewing their conversation silently. She mouthed the words I haven’t seen him since I un-died over and over. “I have seen him since I un-died. He gave you that freaky amulet that allowed you to destroy Sunnydale,” she whispered more to herself than to Spike.
They said it at the same time: “Time doesn’t flow normally here.”
**MEANWHILE…**
Willow stepped into the cabin and took in the fantastic sight. It was a well-made log cabin with no real electricity; candles lit the large room well, especially with a fire roaring in the heath. A long table sat along a wall with food that seemed to cater to her very thoughts. A door in the corner revealed a bathroom that wasn’t exactly elabourate, but it did contain a bathtub and a shower along with the toilet and sink. Willow assumed they ran with wonderfully warm water. Fuzzy blue bathrobes were hung on the wall in one corner of the room, next to the large bookshelf with books on demons and also recreational reading.
Willow paid attention to these details only for a second before going to Tara, who was lying on one of the two beds behind a large screen that looked authentically Chinese. Candles surrounded the bed and provided Willow with enough light to make sure that Tara was still all right on all accounts… aside from the being unconscious thing.
The redhead threw a blanket over Tara and reluctantly left her side to have a look at the books that decorated the bookshelf. She picked up one at random and was delighted to read the title: Fruit That Shouldn’t Be Alive but Is: How to Protect Yourself From Such Menaces. She was about to open the book when she smelled something horrible. It took her a few minutes before she realized it was her.
She put the book down and found a pencil on the table with food. She was very hungry, but she desperately needed a shower, and she wanted to wait for Tara to wake up. She uncrumpled an old gum wrapper she found in her pocket and wrote Tara a quick note in case she woke up while Willow was in the shower. She laid it on one of the fantastically comfortable chairs in the room, grabbed one of the bathrobes and headed into the bathroom, careful to shut the door quietly behind her.
The sound of Willow humming quietly in the shower and the smell of shampoo woke Tara. She blinked herself awake and took in her surroundings. She figured that she was in the cabin, but she didn’t remember winning. In fact, the last thing she remembered was giving up quite emphatically.
But it didn’t matter. She lay on the bed for a while longer and listened to Willow’s hilariously tuneless humming. Tara loved it. She smiled and listened until she heard the sound of the shower stop.
The witch tentatively stood and tested her own balance. She found herself a tad dizzy, but other than that in remarkable condition. She padded lightly over to the table of food and smelled the miscellaneous concoctions. She didn’t touch anything; she’d wait for Willow. She felt like they hadn’t seen each other for months.
Tara walked over to the comfy arm chair Willow had been sitting in not long before and picked up the note, smiling and putting it discreetly in her pocket. She picked up the book set aside from the shelf and read the first few pages. She got fully enthralled in the book and jumped quite a bit when Willow pushed open the bathroom door.
The redhead blinked, and then smiled warmly and with concern. “Hi. How are you feeling?”
“I… I’m fine. A little dizzy, but… I’m fine.” She smiled and held up the book. “Had an encounter with biting fruit?”
Willow blushed slightly. “Yep. Not very pleasant, let me tell you. My chin got connected to my nose, it… it wasn’t fun.”
Tara managed to suppress the grin that threatened to blossom over her face. “Are you all right?”
Willow grinned. “Peachy. Got my face back to normal.” She scrunched her nose. “Had to murder a pear to do it, though. I felt so badly… it screamed and everything.”
“Aw. Well, I think I saw some non-biting pears over here… hopefully.” Tara was finding her responses to Willow’s words awkward, and she cursed herself inwardly for it. She didn’t know why. Possibly it was because she didn’t know what time frame Willow was in.
Willow smiled. “I thought maybe you’d like to have a shower before we ate. I mean, I’m not implying that you’re dirty, but… it feels nice after a night in the woods.”
Tara nodded. “Sounds like a good idea.”
“I’m washing my clothes in the bathtub, but just move them into the sink if you feel like having a bath.”
Tara shook her head. “I might have a bath later. M-meanwhile I think I’ll just… wash my clothes too?” Willow frowned slightly at Tara’s forming it as a question. She wasn’t usually so awkward around her. Maybe it was just the disorientation of waking up.
Willow nodded. “Sure. Take your time.” Tara smiled and brushed past Willow into the bathroom. Willow waited until she heard the shower turn on, and then she folded the other blue fluffy robe and knocked quietly on the door.
“Tara? I’m just putting a bathrobe in here, okay?”
“Okay,” came the reply after a moment. Willow popped in, put the robe on the floor, and popped back out again, closing the door softly. “Thanks,” came Tara’s warm reply.
Willow sat down in her comfy chair and opened her book on bizarre live fruits. Interesting, she thought, how she’d never heard of any of these before.
**MEANWHILE…**
Ripper sat alone by the water’s edge. He’d caught five fish already and had meant to eat them all himself, but Cordelia had become greedy and wanted to share it with the rest of the tribe.
Cow.
He chewed on a splinter that he’d smoothed into a toothpick. It was barely replacement for the dose of nicotine he needed every five seconds or so, but it would have to do. Not like there was any choice. This godforsaken island wouldn’t have anything.
Not that he couldn’t do without it. He was Ripper.
That stupid ponce of a vampire was watching him. He’d glance over every once in a while and he’d still be staring, not pretending not to. Very open about it.
He was sorry he’d ever spoken to the vampire. He would just stare and stare and stare and not blink and stare and not move and stare.
He was Ripper. He didn’t need watching.
Then there was the crazy vampire. She kept coming over and calling him a nice boy. She’d tried to pat him on the head a few times, but he’d told her to sod off and batted her hand away. Then she’d wimpered back to the ever so mighty soul-ed one and he’d told her that it was all right and why didn’t she go hunting.
Hunting. Now there was a plan. Ripper stood and brushed off his jeans. He walked pompously toward the woods without so much as a glance at the people around the fire.
“Hey, Giles,” a female voice called. “We left you fish.”
“Not hungry,” he said in a halting British accent, much rougher than his normal soothing voice. The vampire muttered something to the girl and rose from his seat, jogging to catch up with him. “What d’you want?” he asked.
“I thought I might accompany you on your walk, Ripper.”
He glanced over, but didn’t stop walking. “How d’you know my name?”
“I’ve been around,” he answered cryptically. Now Ripper stopped.
“Have you been stalking me as well as watching my every move?”
The vampire shook his head. “No. We’ve just met before. I don’t blame you if you don’t remember.”
Ripper was about to knock his teeth down his throat, but he thought better of it. He turned and resumed walking. “Whatever. Get lost.”
“Sorry, Ripper,” the vampire said, keeping stride. “Not my style.”
“Look, sod off! I can take care of myself, I don’t need a bloody bodyguard.”
“Giles disagrees.”
Ripper scoffed. “Giles is a sodding moron.”
“I respect him a lot more than I respect you, Ripper, so don’t feel real surprised if I don’t do exactly as you ask.”
“Yeah, and I like being alone a hell of a lot more than I like hearing you talk, so don’t feel real surprised if I plunge a sharp stick through your chest.”
Angel scoffed. “I’d like to see you try.”
Ripper twisted around, broke a weak branch off a nearby tree and came at Angel more quickly than Angel thought possible. He morphed into vampface and caught Giles before he came close to staking him, knocking the stick away and headbutting him with a quick gesture that knocked Ripper unconscious. Angel wasn’t prepared for that, but still managed to catch him before he hit the ground.
Angel picked him up and moved back into human form. “I’m sorry, Giles,” he whispered sadly. “You were out of line. We discussed the no-staking rule.” And he carried him back toward camp.
**MEANWHILE…**
Buffy and Spike finally walked into camp an hour later, Buffy a tad pale and neither of them saying a word.
“There you are,” Wesley breathed in greeting. “We were wondering what was keeping you.”
“We… uh… got distracted,” Buffy provided helpfully, and then looked around. “Where’s Oz?”
“We got back and he ran into the woods on all fours. It was quite alarming.”
Buffy nodded, thanked Wesley, and glanced at Spike before the two of them hurtled into the woods in search of the wolf. They found him a short time later, up a very large tree, still looking mostly like Oz but hairier around his face and neck. He jumped down from the tree with a batch of bananas, not failing to notice the Slayer and the vampire watching. He smiled uncharacteristically and walked slowly toward them, letting Buffy back up just in case and handing the bananas to Spike. “Breakfast for the others,” he said through a growl, and backed away, running back into the woods.
Spike inspected the bananas closely before handing them to Buffy. “Seem all right,” he commented.
Buffy took them at arm’s length and said shortly, “We have to fry one first.”
Spike frowned. “Uh, okay… why?”
“Willow got bitten by a live pear. If we fry one, it’ll scream and just… melt, and we’ll know to let the others go. If it just becomes fried bananas, then we can preserve them for when Oz is on full moon and is barely capable of any thought besides ‘search and destroy’.” She frowned at the bananas. “I’ll take these to camp. Coming?”
Spike shook his head. “I’ll follow the wolf. I’m damn hungry, anyway; haven’t eaten since that rabbit late last night.”
Buffy winced and waved, still holding the suspicious bananas a fair length away from herself. She walked back toward camp and almost made it when she was cut off by Oz, who’d just swung down from another impossibly high tree. Buffy could see when he spoke that his teeth were fanged. “It’s all right, Buffy,” he assured her. “I’m not dangerous. At least, I doubt I am.”
“Oh,” Buffy said simply, not allowing her guard down anyway.
“I’m only partially wolf,” he told her, noticing her hesitancy to believe him and not stepping forward. “I still have my human morals. I’m still Oz, it’s just… I’m a little more Tarzan-ey.” He smiled, and Buffy felt truly intimidated for the first time in years. “I’ve been jumping around for a while, testing out my new ability, and there’s all kinds of food above the canopy of trees. There’s more poultry and there’s plenty of fruit.” He frowned, but Buffy couldn’t tell. “It’s actually almost as though someone went through the entire island and cut off any evidence at all of tropical environment and replaced it with a coniferous feel. It’s not right here,” he finished, sniffing around lightly.
“Oh,” Buffy said again. Oz noticed she was still in makeshift fighting stance and nodded, backing away slowly. His speech was still barely decipherable through a deep growl.
“I get it. You’re threatened. Not a problem. I just wanted to know if you’ve got any requests for food. I could probably get almost anything, including fish or pork, if you wanted.”
Buffy finally relaxed a little. “No, Oz. Whatever you think will be fine,” she said softly. He nodded curtly and hurtled his way back up a tree. Buffy watched him go and waited, thinking about what he said about the lack of any kind of tropical evidence. She wondered if the other team was having trouble finding food, as they would be without Oz. He was definitely an asset.
**MEANWHILE…**
Cordelia sighed and looked down at her empty plate. “That was swell and all, but I’m still hungry.”
“Tell me about it,” Anya commented, looking longingly at Giles’ share of the fish. “I don’t think I’ve ever been hungry before, and now there’s just too much of it.”
Riley looked over. Anya had finally stopped hugging him, for which he was very grateful, and he was finally starting to dry off despite the fun whirl through the weird machine. “You’ve lived 1100 years and you’ve never been hungry?”
She shook her head. “As a vengeance demon, I didn’t need to eat. I did occasionally, but it was purely recreational, or reward for vengeance well carried out. Then when Cordelia made me human, I recognized the feeling for what it was and instantly found food the second I felt it. I don’t like hunger.”
“What about when you were human, before you became a demon?” Faith asked.
Anya’s eyes widened and she looked at Faith accusingly. “Don’t talk about that!” she yelled, and ran from her seat into the woods, still holding her plate.
They all watched her go, Faith looked especially suspicious, and eventually Riley turned to Cordelia. “I didn’t know you were the one who made her human,” he said.
She nodded. “Anya told Xander who later told me about it. He and I had just broken up, and I was pretty angry at him and my so-called friends like Harmony who hated me for dating a loser like him.”
“Xander’s not a loser!” came a strangled scream from deep inside the forest.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Anyway, there was a new girl named Anya at school, and she decided that Harmony was a dolt and that I was all right because I had a Prada bag.” She sighed nostalgically. “She talked to me about Xander and I said, ‘I wish Buffy Summers had never come to Sunnydale’. The wish was carried out, but no one ever told me how it was reversed or how she lost her powers.”
Riley frowned. “How did you get from ‘I hate Xander and Harmony’ to wishing about Buffy?”
Cordelia waved a hand and said simply, “Don’t ask.”
Angel took this opportunity to emerge from the forest carrying a very unconscious Giles. “Geez, Angel,” Faith said huskily. “What’d he do, try and stake you?”
“Pretty much,” he said, and set him on the sand. Anya, sensing that the conversation was no longer about her, tentatively came back out of the woods and sat down, avoiding Riley’s eye.
“What was wrong with him, Angel?” Cordelia asked. “He was all, mad or something. Anya told him he had fish and he stormed off into the woods with you following him.”
Angel glanced at Cordelia, and then at the rest of the people. “Cordy, remember Giles’ history?”
Cordelia frowned. “Sure… bad-ass teenager, dropped out of Oxford to raise a demon that killed one and eventually three of his friends… kinda hard to forget.” She looked up at the vampire and wrinkled her nose. “And since when do you call me Cordy?” she asked.
Angel frowned, too. “Force of habit. You’ll find out eventually,” he muttered. Then he sat down with the rest. “This island is damn weird. We’re all from different time frames, the fruit are actually demons that I’ve never, ever heard of before in all my two and a half centuries of existence, and I’m not sensing things the way I usually do. It’s all… clouded, or something.” He beckoned at Giles. “He knows this firsthand; he’s turning into an alternate reality version of himself; this is what would be of Giles if he’d never straightened himself out. He’s Ripper at night.”
“What does that mean? For him, I mean?” Riley asked. Anya made sure no one was looking and then grabbed Giles’ plate and emptied it promptly.
Angel sighed and ran a hand through his slowly drooping hair, having no mousse or anything with him at all. “I’m not sure. I only know his history; I don’t know any otherworldly stuff that he’s feeding off.” This term made his stomach scream, and he realized he hadn’t eaten in 24 hours. He ignored the hungry sensation and shook his head. “I was watching him last night, catching the fish. Even I can’t move that fast, including in L. A.”
“What do you mean?” Faith asked.
“In Sunnydale, vampires can’t move as quickly as they should be able to. I couldn’t jump buildings or move faster than you can blink in Sunnydale, but I can in L. A. I think it’s the Hellmouth, but it may also depend on the vampire. I haven’t been to Sunnydale in a few months, so I haven’t tried. It takes a lot of strength,” he admitted. “Lots of vampires just don’t bother with the fast moving.” He cleared his throat and went back on topic. “So I approached Giles, and he seemed in his right mind, mostly. He and I went for a walk and talked. I thought he’d been turned, but he’s still perfectly human.”
“So… does that mean Ripper’s human?” Riley asked.
“I think so,” Angel responded slowly. “For the most part, anyway. Otherwise I’d be able to see, or under normal circumstances, sense his demon side.” He hesitated. “But that doesn’t mean that Ripper’s not worshipping any demons that give him strength or speed.” He rolled back his sleeve to reveal the arm that he’d blocked Giles’ hand with. There was a huge black bruise on his arm. Cordelia winced and looked away. Faith nodded appreciatively.
“Vamps don’t bruise easy,” she said. “I’d have a hard time delivering a blow like that.”
“And I was just blocking his stake,” he said. “If he’d gotten me, I think I would have flown about fifty feet before turning to dust.” He rolled his sleeve back down and Cordelia could look again.
“But then why is he unconscious?” she asked.
Angel shook his head. “I don’t know. I think probably Ripper tried to stake me, but I hit Giles, who was already weak from the multi-worldly expedition.” He turned and sighed at Giles. “Poor man. I don’t think he’s going to last very long.”
“Well, as long as he keeps bringing us food, he can’t be all evil,” Anya proclaimed, putting Giles’ now empty plate down.
Angel looked up at her. “The problem is, though, that next time, it won’t be so easy to get him to give up the food. Those fish were meant to be all from him; I heard him muttering to himself about it. If he’s this strong, and if he ever realizes it, then we’re all in big trouble, because I’m not sure I can stop him.”
“Without hitting him,” Faith added.
“If he’s unconscious, then he’s not going to be a help to anyone,” Angel pointed out.
“But he was Giles earlier,” Cordelia said. “During the day, he was fine.”
Angel nodded. “Giles said something about it being at night. He’s probably fine during the day.”
“So he can still get us food!” Anya said.
“Unless he has a concussion,” Faith said again, enjoying the conversation. “Besides, he can’t move that fast during the day. I’d have to do it, and I’m not real enthused about jumping in the water to grab fish.”
Angel looked around at all of them. “There’s another discussion we need to have,” he said quietly, “about if we lose immunity.”
“There’s an optimist for you,” Cordelia said, looking weary about the whole thing.
“Cordy, it’s fifty-fifty. We have to plan.” He looked at all of them again and spoke softly. “If we go to tribal council tomorrow night, I won’t be voting for any of you.” Near the end of the phrase he looked right at Riley, so he understood that despite their conflicts, they were on decent terms here. “I think that we should make a temporary pact that we’ll vote for Giles. He’s a good man, but not here. We’re all in danger if he stays.”
Anya swore. It was a tad uncharacteristic. Everyone looked up and she looked back at them all as though challenging them. “Oh, sorry,” she said sarcastically. “I’d… already thought about this, that’s all. I was going to vote for Drusilla.”
Angel sat up straight and looked around, frowning. “Where is Drusilla?” he asked.
“I haven’t seen her since the challenge,” Faith said. “I don’t think she came back with us.”
“Shit,” Angel muttered and got up from his seat quickly. “I’m going looking for her.” He regarded Faith and Riley carefully. “If Ripper wakes up, hit him before he can hit you. He’s best unconscious right now. If Giles wakes up, which I find doubtful until morning, give him water and time, and explain what I explained to you.” He started to walk swiftly into the woods when Cordelia called after him.
“Angel, why aren’t you evil?”
He turned around and looked at her. “I mean, I’m not complaining,” she added hastily, “but it’s weird. If Giles is evil, why aren’t you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said simply, and turned away.
DAY TWO
Giles sat up abruptly. His eyes darted around as he realized that the sun had only just come up. Most of the tribe was sleeping beneath the no-vampires-allowed blanket, but Riley and Faith remained awake by the last cinders of the fire.
“Good morning,” Riley greeted, less than convincingly. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit in the head with an anvil.”
Faith shook her head. “Just headbutted by a vampire who you tried to stake.”
Giles’ memories of the night before came rushing back. “Oh, God,” he said, and buried his face in his hands. “Where is he?”
“Went to look for Drusilla. She disappeared.”
Giles shook his head and looked up at the Slayer. “I’m very sorry to the both of you. I can’t… help it. It just happens. I’d understand if you voted me off.”
Riley shook his head. “I’m voting for Drusilla. Angel made a very convincing case that we should vote for you because otherwise we’re all in danger, but I don’t like Angel, so I’m not going to do as he says. Besides, I think that an insane vampire is quite a bit more threatening than Ripper.”
Giles shook his head. “You’re wrong.”
Faith sighed. “Well, whatever, Giles. We’ve always been five by five, you know? Even when I went evil, you didn’t do anything rash. I ain’t votin’ for ya just because you go crazy at night. You pitch in and get us food, while Drusilla hangs her head and squeals about nothing. In my eyes, we’re good. Me and Angel and soldier boy here will keep an eye out for ya, stop ya if you do anything wrong.”
Giles nodded sullenly. “Thank you.”
“Do you want anything? Anya ate your fish.”
Giles shook his head and lay back down. “I think I’d rather sleep at this point.”
Riley nodded. “I think I’ll do the same.”
“I’m good here. Keep an eye out for the rest of the tribe, y’know? Just in case somethin’ comes up.”
**MEANWHILE…**
Willow blinked herself awake. The sun was streaming in through the high windows of the cabin. She figured it was probably past noon, but she didn’t want to move to find out. Too comfortable.
She felt light breath on her neck. She closed her eyes again and smiled at Tara’s presence behind her. The two of them has passed a lovely evening full of eating too much and researching the bizarre island, since the reference books held little else. Tara had been much more comfortable once she’d showered.
But nothing had “happened”. Willow was hesitant to because of how Oz and Kennedy were on the same team as Tara was, and though Willow loved Tara dearly, she wasn’t a terribly good liar. Tara understood and respected that, and they’d just enjoyed being in each other’s presence, laughing at their respective tribe’s anecdotes and generally having a ball.
They’d both stayed up until the sun rose, researching and talking. They felt very close, and Willow realized that their timelines probably matched. I shouldn’t know Kennedy, she thought. I shouldn’t remember who she is or how we… we have a relationship. I’m aware that she’s an after-Tara thing, but… what happened to Tara? She shook off these thoughts as best as she could and concentrated on the research.
Tara had finally fallen into bed at about five in the morning and fallen asleep instantly; Willow had gone to her own bed and stared at the ceiling. The whole “Mystical Island” thing was too intriguing, and she decided that she’d better write down everything they’d found and give it to the others on their tribes. So she’d stayed up quite a bit longer, and it was past mid-morning by the time she’d finished. Finally exhausted, she’d stumbled into bed and it wasn’t until right now that she realized it wasn’t her bed; she’d fallen into bed with Tara.
Whoops, she thought amusedly and slowly sat up. She still felt very tired, but she was hungry, and they had all day. She could nap later if she felt like it.
Last night Willow had ventured into the small chest of drawers and had found two pairs of oversized flannel pyjamas, among other things. Willow felt grateful for them now as she threw the blankets off her and was ambushed by a wave of cold. She rolled out of bed and winced at her feet against the icy floor and walked over toward the fire.
They’d tried to put it out before going to be last night. They’d blown on it, snuffed it out, thrown a bunch of water on it and even tried magic. But nothing worked. It popped right back up again. They looked for a switch or something before they realized there was no electricity in the cabin. So they left it on and went to bed laughing.
Now it was out. Willow wasn’t surprised. She found a book of matches and threw one into the heath, and it ignited instantly. She wasn’t surprised.
Who knew this Survivor thing would be full of lack of surprises, she thought to herself and giggled softly as she looked up at the clock. 2pm. She’d slept longer than she thought.
“Is that fire still on?” asked a voice from behind Willow. She whirled around and smiled at Tara.
“No, it was out. I just re-lit it.”
“Good. I’m freezing,” she said, shivering as she padded up to where Willow stood. They both stared at the fire motionlessly for a few minutes. Eventually Tara spoke: “What timeline are you from?”
Willow looked over at Tara and smiled. “Yours. Ours. We’re… at the same time. At least, I think… Riley just left Buffy where I come from.”
Tara sighed with relief. “That’s exactly where I’m from.” Then she fell silent for a while longer. “Why do you know Kennedy?”
Willow looked at Tara quickly. “I don’t know. She’s a part of my future. That’s all I can really conjure.”
“A-and I’m not,” she added, trying not to sound needy or disappointed.
“Tara, it’s not that. I’m sure there…”
flash
tara
bedroom
bullet
“your shirt…”
“…I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason or, or something,” she finished, choking on her words. She smiled disjointedly at Tara and disappeared into the bathroom. After a few seconds of clanking around, Willow came out with a tiny clothing tree with their clothes pinned to it and placed it in front of the fire. “I’m going to have a bath, if that’s okay,” she said, voice wavering. Then, without waiting for response, Willow was back in the bathroom, closing the door lightly.
Tara knew the look that Willow’s face just sported. She used to see it on her mother all the time.
She wished she knew what Willow had just seen.
**MEANWHILE…**
“Ooooh…”
“Drusilla. Shut. Up.” Angel said, almost willing to throw the leaf off the both of them and catch on fire just to escape her.
“Ooooh… it’s too stuffy… I don’t like it…”
“You’ve said that already.”
“Oooooh….”
Angel sighed and tried to block her out, which was kind of difficult since they were both sort of piled on top of each other. He’d found her wandering through the woods, calling for mummy (Angel assumed she meant Darla, even though technically she was Dru’s grandmummy) and crying in a tree. Angel threw himself up, got her down, and hid her under a leaf with him just as sun broke horizon.
“I thought you’d have had at least enough sense left to hide from the sun,” he told her as he threw the oversized leaf over the both of them.
After a pause, Drusilla had responded quietly with “I don’t like it here.”
“So you’d rather be dust?” he asked sarcastically.
She remained silent. Angel understood that she probably would rather be dust than be on this island. Nothing good to eat, no humans to torture… it’s probably her version of hell. Hell itself… now, there’s a place where she’d have fun.
He could finally smell the sun start to retreat. The both of them remained completely still and silent for the next half hour with the occasional moan from Drusilla. The second the sun disappeared, Angel threw the leaf off them and they both stood. Drusilla did a very lazy dance and spoke to a lonely squirrel as it climbed the tree. She wasn’t, however, fast enough to catch it.
Angel looked around. “Where the hell are we?”
Drusilla turned around and once again sported perfect sanity in her eyes. “Tribe’s that way,” she told him. “Council’s that way. We’re damned close to there, we may as well just meet them there.” Angel watched her and waited for her to beckon which one was where, since she didn’t point in any direction when she told him where they were. She didn’t. Her eyes reverted to a pleading form. “My Angel… I want to go home. The clock is all funny, and there’s no treats.” She whined and wrapped her arms around Angel’s middle. He protested and tried to throw her off him, but to no avail.
“You really want to go home?”
“Yeah…” she whispered into his duster.
He nodded. “I’ll vote for you.”
She looked up at him with sparkling eyes. “Thank you.” Then she turned and trotted away. “Off to try! Off to go!” Angel shook his head and decided to follow her, trusting, probably foolishly, that she knew where she was going.
NIGHT THREE
“There you guys are,” Cordelia said as she and the rest of the tribe walked into camp. “We were waiting for you, but we decided against waiting any longer because we figured maybe Drusilla put a stake through your heart or whatever.”
“Wouldn’t that be a bloody shame,” Ripper interjected. Riley shook his head.
“He wanted to apologize, but now he’s evil again, so I guess I get to do it for him.”
Angel nodded. “It’s fine. I get it. I know what it’s like to have a demon inside.” He looked around a little bit and saw that Drusilla was tiptoeing through the flowers at the other end of the challenge area. “I think we should change our vote. I talked to Drusilla and she wants to go home, and I know I want her gone.”
“Here, here,” agreed Anya.
“Is it agreed, then?” Angel asked.
“Only if we lose, Mr. Negative,” Cordelia countered.
Willow and Tara walked into the circle, laughing about something, looking well-rested and very clean. Angel noticed incredible mourning in Willow’s eyes, but decided not to say anything about it until later.
“Have fun?” Cordelia asked.
“I’ll bet they did,” Ripper muttered.
“It was great,” said Tara. “Food was fantastic, nice comfy beds, hot bath…” she looked around at the slightly bitter faces. “…but I won’t go into detail.” The Jeff Tribe entered. “L-look!” she said. “My tribe. I will go… to them, and avoid this awkward situation.” She gave Willow a hug. “See you later.”
“Yep,” Willow said quietly. Angel’s concern for the redhead was curbed as Buffy walked in, talking intently with Spike. He watched them, trying to catch Buffy’s eye. She didn’t notice.
Jeff walked in holding a bronze statue of himself. He placed it on one of the two tables no one had noticed until just now. “Hello, tribes. How’s life?”
No one answered.
“Well…” he cleared his throat. “The network has informed me that I have to apologize, so a heartfelt ‘I’m sorry’ to Tara, and anyone else who got injured or whatever in that last challenge.”
Total silence.
Jeff sighed. “Anyway, this next challenge is for immunity. Because of the common controversy caused yesterday night, your goal is fairly simple.” He beckoned at the two tables. “Each table will get a new product that has never been sold or marketed. Your job is to create a jingle for it.”
“Bloody hell,” Spike and Ripper said simultaneously.
Jeff didn’t hear. “So here’s your product:” He held up a small package with what looked to be pastries in it. “Para-cakes.”
“Para-cakes?” Buffy repeated.
“Para-cakes,” Jeff confirmed, nodding.
“Why exactly are they called Para-cakes?” asked Xander.
Jeff frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe they look like parachutes?” He shook his head. “Anyway, you each have fifteen minutes to perfect a jingle. We have a panel of judges, and the tribe who gets the highest score wins immunity.”
“Don’t tell me that thing’s immunity,” Faith said, beckoning at the statue of Jeff.
“So what if it is? I won’t have any complaining this time. This game is about me. Me me me. I created the series, and now they want to hire someone else? I don’t think so.” He looked around at the annoyed faces staring back at him and frowned sadly. “Fine. Your fifteen minutes starts now. Go.”
The time passed quickly. Occasionally Spike would go “this is sodding stupid” or Ripper would start yelling at one of his fellow tribesmen. Buffy yelled for silence and concentration once or twice, and Drusilla wanted to make the song about her little beetle friend who she just found on the ground and named Poodle. Oz’s strange growl punctuated the light rumble of talk, and he had to fight off the urge more than once to kill some small animals.
“Time’s up,” Jeff finally announced. “Step away from the papers. Bring in the judges,” he told no one in particular.
Three people walked in. They sat down mechanically and grinned at the people they related most to.
“Joyce Summers, Richard Wilkins III, and Jenny Calendar: Welcome,” Jeff announced.
Buffy and Dawn gasped; they both remember their mother as dead. Faith stepped back and frowned, and Giles’ jaw dropped shortly followed by a grin. He was Giles now; Ripper had left temporarily. Angel looked away.
“Any particular reason you chose all dead people?” Spike asked.
“Not really. Wanted to cause ruckus, I guess,” Jeff said, shrugging. “All right, tribes, you will now collectively perform your jingles for the panel of judges. They’ll vote on a scale of ten, and then they’ll leave before you have a chance to talk to them.”
“That’s unfair,” pointed out Dawn. Ripper replaced Giles.
Jeff scoffed. “Right. Because Survivor is a fair game,” he said sarcasically. “Let’s see… Probst tribe, why don’t you go first.”
Angel frowned and strongly didn’t want to do anything. He stood there and brooded. None of the tribe moved forward to collect the sheet.
“Come on, now… if you don’t, I’ll send you all home.”
Cordelia reluctantly stepped forward and held the sheet out for them all to see. A tuneless cacophony emerged:
“Para-cakes, Para-cakes,
Yum yum yum.
If you’re hungry
Go have some.
Full of love
And fun to eat,
Para-cakes, para-cakes;
Just don’t heat!”
They’d all sung it. Or, possibly “sung” wasn’t the correct term; Riley and Angel had said it, Drusilla had wailed it, and the rest had chanted. Ripper had mouthed the words bitterly but hadn’t actually spoken; fortunately, Jeff didn’t notice.
“Oh… kaaaaay,” Jeff said, fighting back laughter. “That was… well, that was interesting. Judges, vote away.”
Three cards came up. They all said 3.
“That’s nine out of thirty. Good work,” Jeff said sarcastically. “Jeff Tribe, you’re up.”
Tara stepped forward hesitantly and grabbed their page. She held it out in front of her, cleared her voice, and began to sing beautifully with the rest of the tribe, including Spike and Oz, whose growl sounded like a gorgeous base tone, backing her up:
“If you’re hungry after work…
(doo doo doo)
Don’t reach for that bag of chi-ips…
(doooooo dah)
Grab a pack of Para-cakes and savour them well…
(bop doo dah)
With their crunchy ex-ter-ior they’re pretty darn swell.
(shoop!)”
Jeff applauded. So did the judges. Half of the Probst Tribe grinned and clapped as well, while the other half (with the exception of Ripper and Drusilla) dropped their jaw in awe.
“Okay, judges, what do you say?”
The cards returned. Joyce and Jenny gave a ten while The Mayor gave a nine.
“Spectacular! That’s twenty-nine out of thirty. Clear winners of immunity!” he shouted, passing them the statue of himself. They cheered, genuinely glad to win, and all mobbed Tara with a hug. She blushed.
“All right, Probst tribe. Tribal council is in a few hours, so you can either go back to camp for a while, or you can just stay here. It’s up to you. The Jeff Tribe! I’ll see you two nights from now right here for the next reward challenge! Check your mail bag for details.” Jeff smiled and walked away.
Faith was the only one who noticed that the judges had completely disappeared.
**LATER…**
Angel returned after a futile round of hunting to find everyone else seated on a small set of bleachers. “When did this happen?” he asked after sitting down.
“We’re not really sure,” Anya chirped. “We were talking over there someplace, and we turned around and they were here. I think they just… found their way.”
Jeff walked in and sat down in a chair. “Well, Probst tribe,” he said grimly. “Grab a torch, light it, and take a seat again.” Once everyone had complied, he cleared his throat. “How was your first three nights?”
“Weird,” Riley said. “This island is freaking wrong. There are so many things that happen here that shouldn’t.”
“Like what?” Jeff asked, apparently concerned.
“Like I’m not a vampire,” Angel provided. “I feel just like a human with a keen sense of smell and a smaller supply of food than the rest of them.”
“And the fruit bite,” Willow said, suddenly remembering that she had to give her research to Angel.
“Yeah,” Cordelia proclaimed. “And Giles is always Mr. Stuffy, but now he’s a real rebel. He’s mean, and strong, and Angel thinks he’s part demon.”
Angel winced. Ripper exploded. “I bloody am not part demon!”
“Okay, okay. Settle down,” Jeff said. “Willow, how did the reward feel?”
“Good, but… apparently I missed a lot.”
“Did it change your perspective on what it’s like back at your tribe?”
“That’s a difficult question to answer, mostly because I haven’t been back. I’ve only been there for one day. I’m well fed, and these guys aren’t. I feel really badly about it, actually,” she finished.
Jeff nodded. “Faith. What’s it like to be a Slayer in the jungle?”
“Easier, I guess,” she admitted. “People like Cordelia and Riley don’t have it quite as good as me. I heal quick and I can go longer without food.”
Jeff nodded. “All right, it’s time to vote. You’ll all go up to the podium and write down the person you want gone, and state your reasons. The person voted off will be jetted off the island as soon as the sun’s up (if it’s a vampire, don’t worry; it’ll be a dark jet) and brought back to America without the slightest recollection of this event.”
“What?!” most of the tribe proclaimed.
“Well, I’m exaggerating. Your memories will be faded to the point where you won’t be able to decipher the reality of your Survivor experience; you won’t be able to tell if it happened, or if it was a dream. You’ll most likely dismiss it as dream, actually; it’ll be really fuzzy.”
A new revelation hit Angel. He looked up at Ripper to see if he’d gotten it too, but he was too busy scowling at Jeff in extreme dislike to be paying attention to a single word he was saying.
“All right. Angel, you were team leader; why don’t you go first.”
***
Anya, the last to vote, finally sat down. Jeff went to “tally the votes” and came back with an undecipherable facial expression.
He opened the strange container they’d put their papers in and drew out the first. He read it, turned it around dramatically and said, “First vote Drusilla.
“Second vote Drusilla.
“Third vote Ripper.
“Fourth vote Angel. That’s two votes Drusilla, one vote Ripper and one vote Angel.
“Fifth vote Drusilla.
“Sixth vote Drusilla.”
Jeff cleared his throat and stared at the seventh paper for a long time. “First person to be voted out of Nocturnal Survivor: BtVS… Drusilla.”
Drusilla squealed and picked up her friend the beetle as freaky music filled the air. The entire tribe (except for Drusilla) looked around for the source of the music but didn’t find it. Drusilla grabbed her torch and hopped her way over to Jeff. “Drusilla…” he said solemnly, “The tribe has spoken.” He took a funny hat thing and put out her torch. When he took it away, Drusilla stared at the final embers of the flame until someone escorted her away.
Jeff turned to the rest. “All right, Probst tribe. It’s been a long day and I bet you have some things to discuss amongst yourselves. Take your torches back to camp, and I’ll see you in two days. Goodnight.” He watched as they filed solemnly out, Willow and Angel lagging slightly behind as they wished to speak with one another. Finally they all left and Jeff grinned into the darkness: “Sleep well. You’ll want to be rested for what I have coming.”
+++++
I’m voting for Drusilla because she wants to go, and because everyone else wants her gone. She’s a pain in the ass, really, and hiding with her during the day was probably the equivalent to the fourth level of hell for me. I would vote for Ripper, but I think Riley has the right idea; we can deal with him a while longer. Besides, he deserves the money while Drusilla really doesn’t.
Drusilla gets my vote, mostly because Angel told me to. You know, he might be a vampire who has the potential to go extremely evil and start slaughtering us at every turn, but he’s a good leader. I remember back when I thought he was just soooo hot, but he kept going over to Buffy and I thought that maybe he was slow or something, but she turned out to be a Slayer and he turned out to be a vampire, so… no, actually, I can’t think of a way to finish that sentence that would make any kind of sense to me.
Angel’s a great ponce. He wanted to vote me off, so I’m voting him off. Burke.
I’m voting for Giles. I hate to do it, but the way I hear it, he’s been kind of… cranky. I think he needs to go; I’ve heard the things he says and this island is doing him no good at all. I love Giles, but I don’t love Ripper, and I think he probably needs to go home to be Giles.
Drusilla’s gone. She whines and does nothing. What’s the point of having her on the tribe if she’s not gonna do anything? I’d rather stake her than send her home, but whatever. ‘Slong as she’s gone.
I’m sure Drusilla was a nice girl once, but now she’s insane and not doing much. Faith and I discussed it at length while we were waiting for Giles to wake up, and she’s right; no use having someone as strong as a vampire on the tribe if she doesn’t do anything. Besides, Angel, despite the fact that I really don’t like him, has a point. If she wants to go home, let’s send her home. Everyone wins.
Miss Poodle wants to go home. The man said that we send who we want home, so I vote for Miss Poodle.
I agree with Angel, despite his unseemly brow and drooping hair. Drusilla needs to go home. She does a great deal of nothing. If I thought that was an option, I’d have done nothing a while ago. But I like money, and I intend to get money if I have to kill everyone else on both tribes. Well, except for Xander. He can have some of my money. Not a lot, though. Just some.
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