Indaran Warriors: The Aftermath of War

By Melanie Walker

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The garden was in full bloom. Although if he thought hard enough about it he seemed to recall a conversation when they’d first moved into the house about placing a spell upon the garden. So that the flowers would always be in bloom.

 

He as Watcher hadn’t believed a spell existed as such, and had spent the better part of a month ostensibly checking the garden after told the spell was completed looking for dead blooms.

 

He’d never found one. And he thought it a cruel punishment now by the powers that the spell remained intact when the woman who had cast the spell was gone.

 

The End of Days had burst upon them so suddenly. One minute they were celebrating Buffy’s safe return and then three days later they were embroiled in the war to end all wars.

 

The Indaran Warriors then numbering 51, their Watchers, the Hunters, the Slayers had made the journey to join the Forces of Light. Their numbers had been up over 10,000. By the time the last battle had been fought there were 212 of them left.

 

He had no fond memories of those days. The four months that the battles signaling the End of Days had comprised had contained vicious, horrific sights that he hoped to never lay eyes on again. And even his memory of the moment when victory had been declared by the Forces of Light had been tainted.

 

While those surviving had cheered, hugs all around he instead had clutched the mutilated body of his lover to his chest and wept.

 

Crying tears for every moment they would never have. For every child that they would never bring into the now safe world.

 

For the wife he would never take home to meet his family.

 

Because the winning of the battles had served to set about a chain reaction that had all those whose memories had been wiped at the beginning having those same memories returned to them.

 

So now with memories of Jade, he also had to contend with the slowly returning memories of his life prior to Jade.

 

Prior to his calling.

 

And now came the task of reconciling the man that he had been with the one that he had become.

 

Of course the better question would be… did he even want to?

 

He liked the person that he had become without his memories. That man had the trust and respect of those that worked under him and for him.

 

The man that he had been had nothing with the exception of the scar on his neck that pronounced him a traitor.

 

Then there were the memories.

 

While he was glad to have some of them back he really wished that he could have picked and chose the ones that were returned to him.

 

He would rather not have had memories of early childhood and his fathers brand of discipline.

 

And then there were the woman.

 

He knew Fred of course. The exact memories of their previous ‘relationship’ hadn’t been returned yet… just glimpses of memories of unreturned affection and the sense of betrayal when she’d taken up with Gunn. The relationship between the two had obviously ended while he’d been ‘dead’ and the female had decided that he was the one that she had really wanted.

 

Jade had been less than amused at that.

 

Then there were memories of a woman that he had yet been unable to place a name to. And since she was obviously not a member of Angel’s close knit group he had thought it best not to ask the former vampire if he knew who she was… perhaps the woman had been someone that he’d be better of not knowing.

 

The other him had been angry, bitter and cynical as hell when he’d been chosen.

 

But the flashes that he’d been shown of his time with this nameless woman touched him in a way that only Jade had ever touched him.

 

He wondered if he had loved her.

 

Then shook his head. If he’d loved her it was quite obvious that she hadn’t loved him back, or hadn’t loved him enough… if she had he would never have been chosen to serve as Watcher to the Indaran.

 

So maybe it was better that he had no name to put with the face, that way he could classify the woman as a mistake and move on.

 

And hopefully when the name was finally returned to him he would have moved on, or at least assumed a fairly good moving on appearance so perhaps her reappearance wouldn’t damage his already to fragile psyche.

 

Of course if Druscilla was to be believed he might have no choice in the matter. The former vampires voice whispered in his ear as if she was standing right behind him.

 

Whispers of lost love, of a new life… all supposedly coming to him soon.

 

Maybe he should bake something just to be prepared for the company.

 

 

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The garden always surprised her… or maybe it was the fact that every time she came to the house she found another male sitting in the middle of it.

 

She’d never particularly liked gardens before. Too much time spent digging around in the soil… and after her years as the Slayer and watching that soil be disturbed… well she just didn’t see the point.

 

Besides the fact that she would never in a million years have thought of any of the men in her life as particularly ‘gardeny’ type people.

 

Although Angel kept trying to force her into the garden he’d put in for her on the roof, Connor kept talking about the different flowers he wanted to plant and every time she came back to her former residence she found Damon (if he didn’t want to be found right away) or Wesley sitting in the garden.

 

“You’re not brooding are you? Because I finally managed to break Angel and Damon of that…” her voice was soft, a tiny lilt of humor lacing it as she leaned against the doorway. Watching with interest as Wesley’s head swiveled quickly to face her. Surprise on his face.

 

He’d forgotten again, she sighed.

 

“Buffy… what are you…?”

 

“Lunch,” she slowly moved into the garden, hand trailing almost absentmindedly across in-bloom tulips. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything in the garden not be in full-bloom. Sometimes it almost looked fake in its intensity, although she knew that was impossible.

 

“Lunch?” he stared at her blankly as she stood before him.

 

“Lunch. You, me, Damon, Brendan… remember?”

 

“Oh,” she grinned as he blinked at her and she studied him in return. His eyes were red, bloodshot… probably not sleeping well at all now that he was the only one in the house.

 

Alone with his memories. Alone with all their memories. It couldn’t be good for him, or healthy.

 

“Yes… is that now?” he glanced down at his watch and frowned. Tapping the glass once before sighing.

 

“You know you don’t have to stay here… Angel…”

 

“Doesn’t want the man that was responsible for your son being kidnapped living under his roof,” Wesley murmured stubbornly. They’d had this discussion a multitude of times in the past few months and she knew that part of him ached to be in that exact place. With his slowly returning memories her Watcher also had to deal with the long suppressed fallout of those same memories.

 

“He’s forgiven you for that,” Buffy said softly sitting next to him. Slowly she reached out a hand, settling it on top of his and giving it a gentle squeeze. Regardless of their stormy past relationship of Slayer/Watcher, or maybe because of it she treasured and refused to give up their new friendship.

 

“I’m not ready to leave her yet,” he said quietly.

 

“It’s not good for you,” she said turning her head to face him. “She wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself.”

 

“Well she’s dead so she really doesn’t get a say in what I do or don’t do to myself,” he said bitterly.

 

“Wes…” she drew a deep breath steadying herself, banishing images of Jade’s bloodied, still body from her mind. “She did what she had to, we all did.”

 

“Maybe the three of you should do lunch without me… I fear I won’t be good company today.”

 

“Well you can brood at the restaurant won’t be the first time…” Buffy grumbled under her breath. “We all lost people Wes, people that we cared about… we’re not losing anymore.”

 

Wesley met her eyes, heaving a long suffering sigh when he saw the familiar expression of stubbornness settling on it. “So where are we eating today?”

 

“Damon won the coin toss, so we’re doing French… someplace called Le Pierre’s… I hate French food.”

 

“It’s not that bad… just let either me or Brendan order for you,” Wesley grinned. The memory of what had happened the last time Damon had taken them for French ran through his mind.

 

Especially Buffy’s rather vocal threats of murder and mayhem and the vicious way she’d scoured her tongue with her napkin to rid it of the taste of snails.

 

“You don’t think this is going to be like the last restaurant do you? If someone tries to beat my hand with a knife because I’m using the wrong fork I think I’ll flip.”

 

“Maybe we should look into some anger management classes for you.”

 

 

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The restaurant wasn’t one of her favorites and if she’d had her way they would at the very least be in a venue where she could scowl without one of the damned waiters wandering over flushed and nervous asking if there was something wrong with her meal.

 

Lindsey of course got much amusement from this and Lilah decided that since chances were good that she was already going to burn in hell right alongside him she brandished her steak knife with glee and sent the latest waiter scuttling away from their table.

 

He was the fifth in 30 minutes. She could envision the waiters in the kitchen huddled together sobbing in terror at the thought that they were going to be the next to be sent to them.

 

It was truly the only thing that made the lunch bearable.

 

The thought of the waiters in tears… she was so glad that she’d never had to support her way through law school like so many others by taking that particular job.

 

“You know contrary to popular beliefs it wouldn’t kill you to smile,” Lindsey grinned at her tipping his glass of purely domestic beer at her in a mock toast before lounging back in his chair sipping at it. For a moment Lilah’s eyes widened in eager anticipation as she waited for the moment when the chair would flip sending Lindsey sprawling on the ground.

 

It would help if she could give gravity just a little extra shove, perhaps with her foot… but she’d done that once and Lindsay now kept his chair distanced enough from hers that she couldn’t encourage his fall.

 

When it didn’t happen she sighed casting a glance around the room.

 

Someone really didn’t like her. Not that she expected him to. She had only come through for the soldiers of light because of a dead man… and the only reason that she was even still alive was because Angel and his group had protected her from the numerous assassins that Wolfram and Hart had sent after her.

 

She’d felt a little silly hiding out in the hotel of her arch-nemesis while her former bosses tried to kill her but… well she had some survival instincts.

 

As soon as the vampire had been able to he had shuffled her off to a safe house and tried to forget she existed unless she had information from her.

 

She’d been doggedly pursuing him when she started hearing the persistent rumors that Wesley Wyndham-Pryce (the man that she’d betrayed W&H for) was still among the living instead of buried with the dead. She wanted to hate him for that, she had turned her back on her job, her friends, everything because she’d been so sure that W&H had been the ones to issue the noticed that Wesley be killed.

 

When she finally got her hands on him she wasn’t sure what the hell she was going to do. She warred with herself almost by the second. Killing him instantly came to mind… but then her mind would remind her that he was fantastic in bed and that it would be a waste.

 

Of course that was all dependent on her actually finding him.

 

She of course hadn’t managed to locate the elusive male just yet… though it was not for lack of trying on her part… she knew that it was only a matter of time before he’d be back… or Angel could be persuaded to tell her where he was.

 

He would have to return to her… because men did not just leave Lilah Morgan with no excuse.

 

Not any more at any rate. Besides the fact that she knew towards the end of their ‘relationship’ that he had begun to care about her… possibly even loved her.

 

He would never have admitted to it of course, just like she would never admit that she cared more than she should for the man that she was supposed to be drawing to the dark side.

 

If she thought too much about it she could easily have envisioned them in love. But love didn’t happen to people like her… and people like Wesley were set up from the beginning to be either martyrs or pawns for the Warriors that battled.

 

She had to wonder which he had turned out to be.

 

“You’re brooding,” Lindsey observed.

 

“I am not brooding,” she snarled. “Only vampires…”

 

“Former…”

 

“Whatever… I’m not brooding.”

 

“So you’re just thinking intently with the scowl on your face. Hope it’s not about me.”

 

“I try to think about you as little as possible Lindsey, you know that.”

 

“Yet you still come to lunch with me,” he smirked. “I think you like me more than you’ll admit to.”

 

“Lindsay I just ate lunch… could we wait an hour before we do this.”

 

“Sure,” her ex-partner smiled congenially at her and her scowl deepened. Because that look on his face could only mean that he was up to something and since she was with him she was almost 90% sure that it was going to have to do with her.

 

“So… how much are you paying those Private Investigators of yours to find your boy?” Lindsey asked suddenly, Lilah frowned at him over the top of her glass before setting it back on the table.

 

“He’s not mine… and too much… considering that they haven’t found anything yet,” she muttered. “Worthless bottom-feeding…”

“Why didn’t you just ask Angel?” Lindsey cut her off.

 

“Don’t you think I tried that? Angel just smiles at me with that blissful, hey I’m human, married, have a grown son and have you seen my wife the former Vampire Slayer and then reminds me that Wesley died. In a fire. Alone.”

 

“You didn’t show him the pictures?”

 

“What pictures? The ones we have that show a man that looks exactly like Wesley Wyndham-Pryce grocery shopping with a woman that looks exactly like Cordelia Chase, sorry Harris?”

 

“Yeah those…”

 

“Angel said they weren’t enough proof, that everyone has a double in the world and that maybe it’s just coincidence that both Cordy and Wes’ live in Los Angeles…”

 

“And you bought that?”

 

“You’re joking right. I hired Angel’s competition to find him for me… not that they’ve found anything… worthless pieces…”

 

“So… say I found your boy for you… how much you willing to pay for that information?” Lindsey smiled at her lazily, she wanted to smack that smile right of his face… after he told her where Wesley was.

 

“You found him?” she asked trying to sound as disinterested as possible, knowing it was futile gesture since Lindsey knew her as well as she knew herself… sometimes she thought he might know her better than she knew herself.

 

Lindsey only smirked before casting his eyes over her shoulder to someone else and Lilah slowly turned in her chair.

 

It was remarkable really the way the whole world could suddenly go silent in a heartbeat… she knew that the world was moving around her. Knew that Lindsey was still talking but her eyes, her entire being were centered totally on the man that was smiling as he pulled out a petite blonde’s chair. A man that was nodding in agreement to whatever was being said and laughing suddenly at something else.

 

She’d never seen him look that happy. The last time she’d seen him he’d been buried so deep in remorse, regret and pain that she wondered if she was going to arrive one night to find he’d slit his wrists.

 

Not that he would. He was a survivor in the best and worst definitions of the word.

 

For a small time he’d been hers. And if God didn’t hate her to much he’d be hers again.

 

“Wesley.”

 

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