Author: Wendy (wendyinswitzerland@hotmail.com)

        Rating: R-ish.

        Summary: What happens when the gang turn aginst each other.

        Notes: 1. please send any feedback that you want me to read to my address,
        not just to the list, cause I'm having access problems and had to go to
        web-only with USCL. Flames can quite happily go to the list.

        2. Lots of acknowledgements. Everyone who ever recomended Elizabeth Hand to
        me, Robert Graves: "The White Goddess", an amazing read. A book called
        "Emperor and God" that I can't remember the author of. Kate B who gave me
        such good suggestions and lots of help. DD and the Minions cause they should
        always be acknowleged.

        3. It's called the Holly and the Ivy, because those are traditionally two
        plants that represent the male and the female, and when "the Holly wears the
        crown", you're celebrating the imposition of patriarchy on the world. It's
        all very pagan. I have no idea when it should be set, and I'm not too sure
        about the ending. Enjoy.
 
 

The Holly & The Ivy
 

I. Birth

"The world is older than any of you know..." For the first time, Rupert
Giles' voice trilled the litany, that would become central to his life in
the next few years. Looking back, he supposed that this was the first time
the nucleus of their group was assembled. Willow and Xander, young, naive
and powerless. Buffy the Slayer and Rupert the Watcher. She was not his
friend then, just a recalcitrant teenager that he would teach and
discipline.

This was in the olden days of this Slayer. When her heart was unbroken, her
soul untarnished and her life intact. Their group would grow: Angel,
Cordelia, Anya, Tara, Oz and even Spike. But they would fall away - Giles
hadn't even seen them coming.

His unawareness led to the oldest battle being fought in Sunnydale, in a
manner none of them could have expected.
 

II. Initiation

Giles gently instructed his Slayer to stare deep into the crystal, and with
the monotonous droning of his lullaby voice, she slipped into the deepest of
trances.

To test his control over her, Giles asked her to lift her hand. She raised
it high above her head. He left her sitting, one arm absurdly raised while
he infused his drink. He supposed it could be called herbal tea. Hemlock and
flycap - most poisonous and deadly in any greater quantities. But the
Dionysic drink, the drink of the Centaurs, was here to give an aging man the
power over this young girl.

She sipped. Then he ordered the girl to lower her arm and come to him. His
Slayer, his possession and his protectee. His to show the way to the dark or
the light.

He drew her to the bed prepared.

A rusty pull-me-down, transformed into a bed that Astarte would have
luxuriated within. The man's mind was so fuelled by the druglust that he did
not consider what sacrilege he would commit tonight.

His lips touched hers, while she stood. His hands caressed her breast, her
hair, her back. She stood motionless and uncaring, eyes dull, entranced.

He ordered her to remove her clothes, licking his lips, moistening the
dryness. She obeyed his commands, shedding clothes, like at the end of a
long day. He knew he could order to go slower or to be more tantalizing. He
thought that would be a waste of time. He barely opened his trousers before
lying her on the bed and covering her body.

The drugs had worked well. Has virile and carefree, and he pushed against
her without any prelude. As he thrust, he intoned some rhyme:
"I bind you to the Council. I bid you to me. I bind you. You shall obey."
His voice died into harsh breathing as he came. The ritual prescribed was
over. Now for something that the Council would never approve of.
 

Years ago, back in the Dark Age, when music was music and life was full and
colourful. In the days where tweed was something grandmothers wore with
pearls, Giles had made a deal. Ethan and the gang had made a deal. Egyhon
wasn't the only demon in their past. But this bargain was not even with a
demon; it was with a god.

Giles was to become that god.

His erection was already straining again. He flipped the near unconscious
Buffy onto her stomach, in a concious parody of passion, and guided himself
into her once more. Here he became even more interested in the task at hand.
And here his rhyme changed:
"I call you into me. I call you within me. The power in me. I declare this
my sacrifice."

His chanting lasted longer this time, right up until he had finished yet
again. He withdrew, and lazily ordered his Slayer to make him some tea. When
she nearly scalded her naked breasts, he decided he'd had enough.

"Get dressed. You will sit down and remember none of this, not even the
crystal to start with. You were reading and fell asleep." He dismissed her,
and folded up the bed.
 

Awake once more, Buffy crept out of the library, in order to not disturb
Giles, who appeared caught up in a book. As she crept home, she felt
uncomfortable, and rather sore, but reckoned it was down to too much
exercise, and sleeping in an awkward position.
 

What Xander had not expected to see when he returned to the library for his
pre-arranged meeting with Giles, was the man himself stroking his 'friend'
in a most intimate way. He stopped at the threshold of the office, as a
vampire in an uninvited doorway. The choked sounds he made led Giles to look
up and stretch back his arms wide. Xander at once noticed the fixed pupils
and sweated brow and the harsh strident breathing. The look of lust was not
something he was comfortable with.

"Xander." Giles whispered it, in a tone that Xander wished Buffy, or just
about any other girl on this earth would whisper to him in. But not this
man, this librarian, this mentor. And again, "Xander."

"Hey Giles. I'll just-" An awkward twisting of the neck suggested that he
would leave. But he was fascinated, enthralled. He licked his unexpectedly
dry lips and wished he had never come upon this sight.
For he knew there was no going back from the step he would take across the
threshold. There would be no going back from the hand he would run across
Giles' hair nor the lips he would brush ever so suggestively against his.

He took the step.
 

It was Ethan that had first made Giles aware of his potential. Hot sweet
Ethan - he of the burning passion and slowly smoldering eyes. He had
deteriorated after his first fresh experiences, when death held no fear and
life was something casual. As age grew upon them, time became infinitely
precious, and death was no longer something to be courted. Thus starts the
search for immortality, and they had discovered it whilst in the others
arms.

Ethan turned his metaphorical back on it. "There are some things that I will
not do, Ripper love." Lazy circles were being traced down his back, telling
him that the man child beside him was ready for more kisses that inevitably
led to more sex. The air was already heady with the scent of their bodies.

"But the power?" Giles could not comprehend the older man's reluctance.
There was not much to the ritual.

"The price. It is not true immortality. I would prefer to search for that,
and power that would last forever. Not become some petty godling." Ethan was
growing uncomfortable at the subject. Already his private explorations had
led him into some unsavory business, but his limits were drawn. He had no
urge to expose his young lover to some of the things he had seen. He would
try his best to dissuade him. If that failed· He would leave.

Ethan should have known the man he was in love with better.
 

Giles could still hear the sound of his lover's voice calling him love. He
longed for another to say the same. Xander kissed him gently, and was
unsurprised by the urgency of Giles' return.
 

III. Consummation

Willow was a witch. All the name-calling at school was actually coming true
- she was a brainbox and a witch. She almost giggled at the thought. But her
reading matter was changing all that.
She was researching. A not unusual pastime, but there were no demons to
slay. She was researching for herself, and knew if Giles caught her, she'd
be in deep shit.

She was researching him.

And what cruel surprises she was turning up. They had known that Giles' past
was less than squeaky clean, that he had demons in there. She'd not realized
he had gone quite this far.
 

Willow reached across to Buffy. "But you believe me, right?"

"If I believe you, which I don't, it means that the only reason that Giles
is helping me defeat all those vampires, all those demons, is because he
wants to kill me. I don't think that's likely." Buffy looked with scorn at
Willow. Ever since Oz had left, she had seemed a little psychotic.

"So you don't believe me? Read this." A sheaf of photocopied pages was slid
across the table to Buffy. "These are from Giles' diary. Not his official
one, his private one."

"How dare you invade his..." Buffy was infuriated.

"Read them."

The flat, dead tone of her friend forced her to glance at, then read the
pages. And she was deeply shocked. "You forged this. There is no way that
Giles would have done this to me."

"Buffy you have power. You are the Slayer, but you're also one of the sacred
trio."

"This is more witch stuff. Isn't it." The witch stuff freaked Buffy out.

"This is truth. You were a participant in a ritual you did not know of, nor
understood at the time. And again you took part in this ritual when you
slept with Angel." Willow reached over to hug her numb and shell-shocked
friend.

"On my birthday." Buffy was still coming to terms with the fact that the man
she had trusted most in the world had violated her most horribly. Tears were
filling her eyes.

"The god died, and was replaced. Then half a year later he rose again. There
are patterns everywhere. And it is up to us to take control of them."
Willow's enthusiasm did not transmit itself to Buffy.

"What control! Do you remember what you read? There was nothing I could do."

"It's not just you he's fucked with." The language made Buffy sit up and
take notice.

"Who else?" Her tears drying as she thought of revenge.

"Xander." Willow was sadly thinking of the man that she used to love.

"He's fucking Xander?" And suddenly Buffy understood Faith's misanthropic
views on life.

"He's going to make Xander an accessory in this. We've got to stop him."

"And how in hell's name do we do that?"
 
 

Interlude: The Diary of Xander Harris.

I daren't tell the others of the most wonderful thing in my life. The fact
that I am deeply in love and that this love has made me feel almost human. I
am wanted, and needed, often desperately, and I can have what I want
returned. No more unrequieted love for Xander baby.

I didn't really want to admit that I'm bi to the others. It's not something
I really want to share - too much indoctrination and laughter to overcome.
Then I wish I could tell them what a wonderful man I'm in love with. They'd
hate me.

He can be a bit British sometimes. Then he gets with the tea and the scone
and the tweed and lectures. The stuff he can talk about. I know I'm not
clever, but I stand in awe sometimes. He never really talks about the past
though. I get the feeling that there's something he's not telling me.

He can be incredibley sweet sometimes. He extolls my beauty, I suppose.
Telling me how wonderful my eyes are and how beautiful my hair. My head is
normally buried in his lap at the time, and my eyes closed in concentration.
I think I've learned how to give a good blowjob.

At least Giles doesn't complain.
 
 

"Hey Cordelia, its Willow. We need you to help us with something. Any chance
you could come back to Sunnydale for a short while? Bye." Cordelia had
played the message a few dozen times, before Angel managed to
surreptitiously suggest her return. He knew something was up.

It would have surprised Willow had she known that Angel was aware of his
role in all this. They forget he is so old, older than any of them will ever
be. Even if his soul had not been returned, he would be this old. He was
beloved of the moon and powerful. The one with the Angelic face, appearing
at night, protecting those who followed his path. And destroying those who
did not. It was the reason why Doyle had been sent to him. He was the reason
that Doyle had died. Losing friends had become a common occupation of
Angel's. He knew that when this fight was fought, when this tale was
finished, that he would lose more.

And Cordelia returned in minor triumph to the town that had stolen her
innocence. People talked about the big city, believing that it was what made
her hard, made her hard as nails. A select few knew differently. These
select few knew she was back for a reason.

Cordelia. Even her name resonated with ancient power. The goddess of the
Cornish, their maiden, daughter of the moon. And Willow, sacred to the
Goddess, as a healer, a comforter and a destroyer. That left one role
unfulfilled. And Buffy stood waiting.

They stood in a sacred shape, older than time, older than dawn. They held
hands and let the power that Willow raised sweep over them. When the moon
rose they howled, and in the distance perhaps, a lonely werewolf heard them,
and the voice of a girl he had forsaken struck him to his submerged human.
When it was full, they chanted, and disturbed the wakefulness of a vampire
in a city that never slept, yet refused to awaken. And when it set, they
turned to each other for comfort. Their comfort rose loud on the wind,
blowing desire into every woman's ear, and dread into every man's. They
kissed and moved and touched as one. They worshiped. And they fucked.

Cordelia was the first to bend in pleasure and Buffy soon afterwards. They
both went to work on Willow. The sacred three were reawakened. It was only a
matter of time now.
 

IV. Repose

It was inevitable that the confrontation would come. Coldness and being
apart was not in Buffy's nature, nor in Giles. They were like two sides of
the same coin. Both fighting the same darkness, with different powers of
light.

Giles' had never dreaded the night before. He dreaded the sight of the moon
with an intensity that approached Oz's fear of it. Oz had reason. Giles knew
that soon his secret would out. He would need to complete the ritual.
Already he had held off too long, learning to care for his Slayer. His
Buffy. She was a person, his protector and his comforter. She would turn to
him in pain and in joy.

But the moon was her power, and that of her like. For she herself was
profoundly supernatural, not human, for all she strove to be normal. The
standards in this town for normality were overrated. Here the only normal
person would be blind, deaf and locked in a tower with no hair to let down.
This town affected everybody. And changed them for better or for worse.

Giles knew he had changed. For the better. He dreaded turning back the clock
and becoming that what he was in his yesterdays. But there were bargains
struck and deals done. Time would leave him alone no more.
 

V. Death

Willow dreaded the sun.

They met at dusk, on ground of Giles' choosing. Three against one, with
Xander struggling up the hill behind them, ever ignorant of the role he was
playing.

"Wait up guys." He puffed, pushing against sudden gusts of wind.
When he reached the top, he looked from one group to the other, some vague
comprehension entering his eyes. He was definitely caught in the middle
again. His lover or his friends. The man who had taught him self worth, what
it meant to be needed and wanted and loved. His friends who had taught him
much the same, perhaps with the less of the needing. He shifted from foot to
foot.

"Xander." They all seemed to say his name at once. He gave his best
rabbit-trapped-in-a-headlight-here look.

"I think you should go. This doesn't concern you." It was Giles, quiet
spoken, head turned to the side.

"The hell I will." The four of them turned their faces to him.
Eyes of deepest black warred with eyes of pure gold. There were no pupils,
no irises in those eyes, if that was what indeed they were.

"You are not my friends." Xander turned his back and started to climb down,
leave them. He feared that on his return he would have lost at least side of
that war. He was caught short.

"No." It was the thing that was Cordelia. "You have a part in this Xander.
Just like all of us."

"Stop it! First you want me to go, and then you want me to stay." He
gestured in turn to each of them. "What are you doing?"

"We're going to fight." Willow matter of factly stated, glaring at Giles.

"No!" Impotent Xander once more. "We fight others," he pleaded. "We are a
group. Us." It was to no avail.

"Once I decided on this route, there was no turning back." Giles seemed half
to be explaining and half convincing himself. The ambuiguity of his part in
this, the lines that were never defined, nor the borders he would cross
clear, was the most frightening thing. He took a deep breath, saying, as a
charm against the others, "The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she, who thicks
man's blood with cold."

"I am not a nightmare. I am truth." Willow seemed bound to be the
spokesperson of their group. Buffy and Cordelia merely clung to each other.
"I am Nature."

"How can you say you are nature, when you do the most unnatural things?"
>From his tone, Giles knew exactly what levels of deceit the three had sunk
to.

"Who are you to call tasks unnatural?" She gestured to Xander. Xander
suddenly cottoned on to what they were discussing.

"No. I'm a consenting adult. It was my choice." He was emphatic.

Buffy spoke for the first time. "Who do you love Xander? Who will you
choose?" And she dropped into a sing-song voice. Cordelia and Willow
providing wierd echoes of "Choose".
"The boy who is born when the wind is from the north,
He shall win victory but shall endure defeat.
He shall be wounded, another shall he wound."

"What will happen if I refuse to choose?" Xander quietly, through the storm
that seemed to rage fully now.

"I'll close your eyes with coins, not kisses." Meanacing archaic threats
from Willow.

"I do not know." Honesty, seemingly at last, from Giles.

"No matter who is chosen, I still lose some of you. Doesn't friendship mean
anything to you people?" The glares that flew from side to side were answer
enough.

"Shit." The wind threatened to sweep them all from their battle ground
before they had even started fighting. Xander's face contorted in agony as
he considered his options.

"I choose me." Quiet. "I choose myself to stand in for whatever is going to
happen." Louder. "Do you hear me? I choose me." He was screaming at the top
of his voice, and the others were calling out to stop him. Giles was crying
that he loved him and so was Willow. Buffy begged him to reconsider or else
she'd go mad. And Cordelia wept, as if she'd already seen the future.

Lightening struck the ground, setting afire the body of Xander Harris, whose
heart and soul had been lost for the sake of his friends, for all he was
promised an ascension to an angelic heaven.

Finally the rain fell, mixing with the tears on the faces of the combatants.
It was over, and no one had won. In a way, they'd all lost.
 
 

Willow Rosenburg entered into charitable work and can be contacted in Los
Angeles helping the homeless.

Buffy Summers was in a State Mental Institute until last year, when she died
under suspicious circumstances.

Cordelia Chase never became an actress, and is still a Secretary for Angel
Investigation.

Rupert Giles has never been heard or seen by any of them again.