Chapter 32—Misfit, I

Tongue-tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit, I—Pink Floyd, “Learning To Fly”

Willow had watched it all from her vantage point at the edge of the yard, hidden in the bushes. She saw Drusilla prance across the lawn and found herself hoping for a bloody ending to all of their happiness, and was sorely disappointed when she heard the well wishes the vampiress had spoken to the newly wedded couple.

She gritted her teeth to keep from shouting at them, railing at them for their happiness. Her fists clenched and unclenched with rage when she noticed the closeness between Dawn and Tara. Her Tara! She wanted to run over and snatch her away from the little bitch who had risked all their lives less than a year before, but she restrained herself, shaking with her anger and need for revenge.

She thought that she was discovered when Drusilla walked right over to where she was standing and stopped next to her. Her voice drifted low and urgent through the bushes. “You’d do best to leave. You do not belong, even less than I, and they would harm you if they knew that you were here.”

She didn’t speak, biting her tongue until she tasted blood. The vampiress finally moved away, and she was able to relax and watch once again.

They were all so happy and carefree. Didn’t even think of her, not once—not while they toasted each other with the flutes of champagne, not while they stuffed themselves with hors d’overes, not when they made such a big deal of cutting and eating the wedding cake. She almost laughed when Buffy bit the inside of her cheek while she was stuffing her face, but then frowned again when Spike and the others made such a big deal about it.

She observed quietly as they danced under the stars, the music muted by a wave of Tara's hand. She had to strain her ears to hear their voices then, but the night was almost over, she thought.

She seethed and cursed them silently as they opened wedding gifts from their friends and family. Suddenly, they were saying good-byes and heading off to somewhere else for the night. She saw tears on Giles' face as he hugged Buffy, and shook Spike's hand. Good, maybe he was sorry they had done this horrible travesty of a ceremony. Her hopes were dashed when his words drifted across the yard to her, and her mouth made a moue of disgust. “I am so very proud of you both.”

Proud, she scoffed. Proud of a Slayer that betrayed all she stood for, all she was supposed to stand for, being against evil and all that. What a crock it was.

She had high hopes that Angel would make a scene, but he only looked sadly at the couple. He had worn that sick puppy look all night, but now it seemed even more pronounced as he hugged Spike. “Feel free to call on me anytime either one of you need anything, Childe. I would be honored to assist you.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Spike had replied, although it sounded insincere. Maybe in a million years, when Buffy's dead, Willow thought.

Xander and Anya hugged the couple, and Anya was babbling something about doing couple things together now. Xander rolled his eyes, and threw Spike a look that Spike and Willow both understood. Anya being Anya, she was curious as to what kind of couple things they would do together. A dirty thought entered her mind that she quickly banished before she started giggling. She didn’t think that Buffy and Spike would be into the group thing—which was the only thing that she could think of that Anya would have any interest in.

Next Dawn hugged them both tightly, and whispered something to each of them that made both Buffy’s face flare brightly while Spike smirked, but it was too low for Willow to make out. Tara hugged them both as well, but her comment was made out loud, so it was easily discerned. “We’ll take care of the house, Dawn and I. And each other,” she added, turning to look at the little bitch next to her. Again, Willow seethed with anger, but pushed it down deep. Best to save it to use later.

Buffy and Spike started toward the DeSoto, parked at the side of the house, and Willow moved further into the bushes. They passed so close to her that she could have reached out and touched Buffy's dress if she’d wanted to, but she pulled away, almost fearful of the contact, trying to keep her breathing to a minimum. She watched the car drive away, then turned her attention back to the yard.

She saw they were cleaning up and talking, and again she strained her ears to hear what was being said. Mostly it was drabs of how beautiful the wedding was, how lovely they all looked, until she heard her name.

“I missed Willow being here. It didn’t seem the same without her,” Xander said.

Of course not, you fucking idiot, she thought. It will never be the same.

“Oh, Buffy had talked about inviting her, but that was before she attacked her in the street and said all those terrible things,” Anya replied.

Tara looked over at the bushes where Willow stood, almost like she knew she was there. “Willow is consumed with hatred and blaming everyone else for her misfortune. She had no place here on such a happy day.”

Bitch! Willow thought, then Dawn put in her two cents, and her fists clenched with rage once again. “She had better not show her face around here again, either. I don’t think that Buffy would like it, and I know that I won’t either. Especially now,” she added, wrapping her arms around Tara's waist.

Angel looked at all of them, then drank directly from a bottle of champagne. “I don’t know what happened. Can somebody fill me in?”

They all hurried to tell lies about how she, Willow, had become more obsessed and dark and evil while Buffy was dead, and her drive to bring Buffy back. Dawn laughed, laughed, at her loss of powers, and had the cheek to say, “Really, it was her own fault. She shouldn’t have been playing with such dark magics. It was poetic justice, if you ask me.”

“Does anyone know where she is now?” Angel asked, and they all threw a variety of looks, from incredulity to shock.

“Who cares?” Anya finally said with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “She made it clear to us all that we weren’t friends anymore.”

“Well, she might need help,” Angel said lamely.

“The only help that Willow could benefit from would be psychiatric, Angel,” Giles said, adjusting his glasses. “I don’t think that she would be accepting of it, however. She feels she did no wrong.”

I didn’t do anything wrong, she thought. I only wanted Buffy back—I had to do some of those things to get her back here, and all they can do is downgrade me. Some friends they were!

She clamped down on her ire, and soon they all went into the house. Probably to talk about her some more, she thought.

She fingered the object she carried in her pocket and made her way out of the bushes, turning her back on her past and everyone she thought she loved.

She made her way to the tall cliffs that surrounded Sunnydale. With only the stars for her light, she took the talisman out of her pocket and pressed it between her palms. “I call upon D’Hoffryn, lord of Arashmahar and keeper of justice.”

There was a flash of light, and the tall, blue-skinned demon stood before her. The smoke dissipated quickly in the light breeze, and he looked down at the petite redhead. “Ah, Miss Rosenberg. I thought that I would be hearing from you. What can I do for you?”

She was afraid, but she felt like this was the only way for her now. “Is your offer still open? I mean, I know that it’s been a while since you made it, but—“

D'Hoffryn extended his hand to her where she kneeled on the ground, having fallen there when he arrived. “Of course, Willow. I told you when I gave you the talisman; you have a gift for vengeance. Remember?”

“I guess. So, what happens now?” she asked, her voice tremulous with nervousness.

“We go to Arashmahar, you enter the apprentice class, and you can be a full vengeance demon before you know it.” He grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet, and started to wave his arm to transport them. “We do have to change your name, though, to something more suitable for a vengeance demon. How about…Wilheminda? Yes, Wilheminda. Sounds like a perfect name for you.”

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “Does it mean something?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Outcast, for that is what you are now, isn’t it?”

She gave him a wry grin, and nodded. “Yeah, I guess I am at that. Wilheminda. And I’ll have powers again?” she asked, hope filling her heart.

“Oh, yes,” D’Hoffryn said, stroking her cheek. “My dear, I think that you will be the most powerful vengeance demon I’ve ever seen. Not only your imagination, but your pain and anger call to me. Come, let’s go to your new home.”

She turned to face the lights of Sunnydale, her heart light in her chest again. Power. She had found the perfect source, one that Buffy couldn’t touch and had no control over. She would make them all regret the day they had ever been mean to her. She would make them pay for making her feel like a misfit again.

With her hand in D’Hoffryn’s, she saw the lights of the town where she was born, raised, and stripped disappear into a flash of light. Yes, they would rue the day that they had ever known Wilheminda.





“Learning To Fly” Pink Floyd

Into the distance, a ribbon of black
Stretched to the point of no turning back
A flight of fancy on a windswept field
Standing alone my senses reeled
A fatal attraction holding me fast, how
Can I escape this irresistible grasp?

Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted Just an earth-bound misfit, I

Ice is forming on the tips of my wings
Unheeded warnings, I thought I thought of everything
No navigator to guide my way home
Unladened, empty and turned to stone
A soul in tension that's learning to fly
Condition grounded but determined to try

Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, I


Above the planet on a wing and a prayer,
My grubby halo, a vapor trail in the empty air,
Across the clouds I see my shadow fly
Out of the corner of my watering eye
A dream unthreatened by the morning light
Could blow this soul right through the roof of the night
There's no sensation to compare with this
Suspended animation, A state of bliss

Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies

Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, I



A/N: Thank you, to all my wonderful BSV friends who read and reviewed and gave me such wonderful support through this fiction. I really believe that writing this has been a turning point in what I hope will be a career. Muchas gracias as well to my betas, Megan_peta and Bloodytearsoflife, who made me a better writer and made this all come together with their suggestions and loving support. And as always, this is dedicated to my loving and supportive "wife" Sandy, without whom I have no courage, no ambition, and no muse to sing to my soul, and whose understanding has no bounds. For you love, always for you.