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Of Light And Shadow by FetchingMadScientist
 
Secundum Os
 
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AN: Title is Latin for, "Behind the mask."
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10 FEBRUARY, 2008- OSLO, NORWAY-3:00 PM-

The room was quiet and the curtains were drawn. The boy, standing as a sentry over his friend, was grateful that he had finally allowed himself the mercy of sleep and sighed, releasing some of the worry he felt as he sat in the small chair in the dingy little room and he, too, closed his eyes, if only for a moment before opening them again and smiling.

Sleep. This was a wonderful thing to see. A wonderful thing, indeed.

Sleep had been slow in coming for Simba, and now that it was here, he did not want anything to wake him unless it was absolutely necessary. Sleep was so elusive for him. He was nearly as mad as Shujaa, now, and so broken that he wondered if Simba could survive much longer.

Simba had lost so much, more than even he was aware of. There was emptiness in his soul. An emptiness that only grew, because of his bond with her. He needed to be close to her, but could not, not without endangering her. And, that was something that he knew Simba would not do.

The tiny telephone in his pocket buzzed. Panya Mosi started, and his eyes darted to Simba. The sound seemed to bounce off the walls of the room, and echo, too loudly for his ears. But, Simba took no notice at all, and slept on, thankfully oblivious. He answered it quickly, fearful that Simba might wake at any moment, “Yes?” he questioned, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s Daisy,” the voice on the telephone was as quiet as his, and he had to strain to hear it.

For a moment he was confused, “Daisy?” and then his brain woke. He looked at the sleeping form of his friend, “Oh. Go ahead.”

“Time to move,” Daisy said.

Panya shook his head. If she could only see what this was doing to him. He swallowed, “But, he is not well…I do not think…”

“All the more reason,” Daisy whispered.

“All right,” Panya sighed, closing the phone and placing it back into his pocket.

He sighed. He was tired. Simba was tired. He didn’t know if he could convince him to continue this way. He wanted to rest, was on the verge of giving in. He did not want to hurt Shujaa. Her well-being was above his, and always had been.
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02 SEPTEMBER, 2002- DEVON, ENGLAND- 11:00 PM-

Giles was glad there was someone to take care of her. He wasn’t sure if it was wise to leave Buffy alone right now. She was in shock, and, to be completely honest, so was he.

He wasn’t even completely certain that he was not hallucinating. Grief could do that, and he had released a killer on the population. Something that had not even a kind of morality. It was a killer, and it had done what it was meant to do.

He knew now that he had put his trust in the wrong place. He had trusted the entity that powered the Slayer to have a conscience. It did not.

It had to be caged somehow. But, how to do it? He wasn’t sure he’d have enough strength to execute a proper binding. Right now, he wasn’t even sure he could say his own name, let alone remember it.

Yes. He was in shock. Because…standing right in front of him…holding Buffy…was Spike.

“…I killed someone,” Buffy said, her tears and voice muffled by Spike’s chest as she pressed against him in an embrace.

“I know,” Spike said.

“I-it killed you. I want it gone,” her voice was like steel, “I don’t want it anymore. Not if it hurts you. Let them find another girl. I’m done. Take it out.”

“Buffy…” Spike whispered, trying to hide the warble in his voice, the devastation, as he pulled her back to look into her eyes even as Dawn still clung tightly to him, “please. I don’t want you hurting yourself,” he shook his head, slightly, “Not for me.”

“But, I killed someone! I have to be punished for it! It’s wrong!”

“Buffy…” Spike whispered, his voice falling silent. Giles couldn’t help but notice the vampire’s hopeless gaze as it fastened to his. He was asking for help.

Giles tried to shake his disbelief as he spoke, “I promised I would help you, and I will.” He blinked. Yes, he was definitely grief- stricken. This idea was further proof of that. “I have an idea,” he said.

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FEBRUARY 10, 2008- LOS ANGELES- 6:30 AM

Daisy Pendleton closed her eyes and sighed. She got up and went to her ruined door and looked out. The hall was empty. Her colleagues seemed not to notice her brute of a client. It was business as usual at Wolfram and Hart.

Break a few doors, kill a few babies, start an apocalypse- no one bats an eyelash. But, try and rescue Buffy Summers’s vision from the perversion the Synod had made of it and people would notice.

She had to tread lightly here. It really was a tightrope. Angelus didn’t trust many, and yet she’d made it into his circle. It had taken her years, but she’d done it.

The darkness inside her was finally being used for good. In fact, it was her darkness that kept her hidden from him.

She’d chosen her form deliberately. It was both homage and object lesson. It helped her remember that she was no better, and that he was out there somewhere. And that he was Buffy’s only hope.

She knew that she had to keep him safe.

Daisy moved back to her desk, trying to keep her knees from knocking. She couldn’t afford to lose her composure. Giles had taught her well enough. That was close, and these heels are really killing me… She sat in her chair, letting the tension dissipate with another sigh. She opened the drawer that held her purse in it and fished out her tiny compact from its depths. Daisy flipped the plastic pink disk open, admiring her face.

She smiled. No wonder he hated looking at her, if she didn’t know better… “Summitto os,” she whispered, and the face in the mirror shifted and shimmered, revealing her true countenance. She put the compact back into her purse, and headed out the door. The glamour was difficult to maintain now because she had to keep track of multiple locations, but she knew she could do it.

Willow knew she had to, because Giles was in no condition to do it.

She stood up again, careful to take the second she needed to put the glamour back in to place. Willow knew that she was taking a risk by lowering it. But sometimes she had to remind herself who she was, and why she was doing this.

She was doing this for Buffy, and for Spike. And, she was doing it because it was right.

With the glamour back in place, Daisy stepped out of the office, and down the hall, into the elevator and out onto the street. The sun was just coming up. There was little chance that she was being followed, the sky was too light now for any of Angelus’s garrisons to be lurking, and she knew she had to get to a secure location. She had to tell Panya that it was time to move again.
 
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