by Dumbsaint » Thu Sep 20, 2001 12:49 am
by Zahir » Thu Sep 20, 2001 9:22 am
------------------
"O let my name be in the Book of Love.
If it be there, I care not of
That other book Above...
Strike it out! Or write it in anew.
But let it be in the Book of Love!"
--Omar Kyam
by DISASTERAREA » Thu Sep 20, 2001 3:12 pm
by Bronze » Fri Sep 21, 2001 11:03 pm
by Zahir » Sat Sep 22, 2001 2:43 pm
The reasons are twofold. First, I don't want to go against canon too much--and plenty of secrets about the upcoming season won't be revealed until its end or thereabouts. And second, I have other things I want to write.
So get ready for the angst-filled roller coaster that will be the remaining chapters of Never The Twain?. And...a thousand thanks for your many kind words. They've meant more than you know.
------------------
"O let my name be in the Book of Love.
If it be there, I care not of
That other book Above...
Strike it out! Or write it in anew.
But let it be in the Book of Love!"
--Omar Kyam
by Rancour » Sat Sep 22, 2001 9:08 pm
The poseur formerly known as rancour
------------------
Andrea: "End-of-the-world" portents, the living dead, evil arisen?
Jane: Yep. You drive?
-- Lew, "Hellmouth in Lawndale"
by WiccanBex » Tue Sep 25, 2001 7:49 am
*sob*
nevermind... i guess that ending this peice gives you more time to write something else for us... right? *hint hint*
can't wait to see how to round this up
------------------
"if you throw a stone, something's gonna shatter somewhere. We're all so fragile, we're all so scared."
nocturnal review site
by mollyig » Thu Sep 27, 2001 9:27 pm
Another great chapter. I especially loved this line: "Her eyes pierced Tara deeper than any kiss"
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"Adding up the total of a love that's true multiply life by the power of two"
- Emily Saliers (Indigo Girls)
by Zahir » Thu Sep 27, 2001 9:34 pm
* * *
Tara wasn't used to trust. Neither as a verb nor a noun. Her life had seen it betrayed far too often, sometimes with terrific ruthlessness. The oh-so-wonderful McClay clan to start with. Having the oldest, probably most evil vampire in existence as a sire did nothing to change this. She was also honest enough to realize she'd betrayed Buffy's trust--what little trust the Slayer might have had for her. Nor did she regret it. Which left her feeling no more inclined to believe without proof than before. Yet now, she was leaving a great deal to trust. Nothing less than survival, not simply her own but Willow's.
And she didn't like it.
For nearly three hours now Tara and the others had been making their way back to Sunnydale. Fortunately, the late Knights of Byzantium had been survived by their horses. Wesley, herself and Anya had all proved able riders. Xander, Gunn and Oz all managed, the latter surprisingly well for his first time. Or not. Willow rode with Tara, an arrangement made workable (as well as desirable) by their relative sizes.
Bouncing along on still-skittish beasts had done nothing to further conversation. Still, Tara could tell--from the way she held on, from her breathing, from a thousand little details--Willow knew Tara was more unhappy than she'd let on. Yet they couldn't talk about it. Not yet. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea yet anyway.
Now the motley (very, Tara thought to herself) group approached their goal. The Stephenson horse ranch. Xander, it turned out, knew Old Man Stephenson (he said it that way, with the capitals) and was sure he'd give them all a ride back to Sunnydale. This wasn't as straightforward as any of them would like, simply because Xander had trouble dismounting. Walking proved difficult as well. He was now officially limpling with both legs. To be expected under the circumstances. Still, it delayed them. Xander headed up to the main house, while everyone else (other than Anya, who went with her boyfriend) waited. Gunn complained about his own legs, profanely if not loudly. Oz said nothing, just nodded in sympathy. Tara stared at them all. Herself, a vampire. A witch, the lovely and even more worried than she seemed Willow. A Los Angeles "homey" (was that the word?) who specialized in fighting demons. Oz the werewolf. Plus the prissy Englishman who represented an age-old secret society dedicated to helping teenage girls fight the forces of darkness.
Motley. Yes. Without doubt. The ex-demon and her now-psychic boyfriend headed up the hill certainly fit in.
Tara wandered over to a large tree, parking herself against the trunk, in the deepest shade. She realized the Ring of Amara made her immune to sunlight. Habits, however, were hard to break. And right now, she didn't have the strength to fight those habits. But at least she wasn't hungry. They had left several horses behind them, all but two now wounded slightly and left a little weaker for loss of blood. Animal blood. The equivalent of bread and water. But at least it had been warm, alive. Everyone turning away so as not to watch did little for her mood, though.
Now Willow approached. Tara hoped (oh so much) that her beloved would simply sit beside her and say nothing. Please, she said to herself, please.
Willow sat in front of Tara, her eyes huge and concerned. "Tara? Please talk to me?"
"I'll be alright." No need to add to her burdens.
"Still. Please?"
Tara didn't say anything for an eternal ten seconds or so. When she did, there was an undercurrent of bitterness. Faint, but very much there. "You are going to die. And I can't stop it."
Now Willow reached out and took Tara's hands in her own. "Not yet."
"Tonight."
"Maybe not even then."
"I don't believe that. Gods, how I wish...but...."
Trust me, Giles had said. He hadn't given a lot of details this morning. Barely any at all. Wesley had seemed to know what he was talking about, and after what seemed like a thousand pleas for trust Buffy had finally agreed. She had been nearly catatonic. To Tara, it seemed like she was an underground well full of tears, ready to erupt like a geiser but not yet, not yet. Her mother was dead. Riley had been killed in front of her. Now Dawn was in Glory's clutches. And no one, not even Buffy, had any idea how to stop her from bleeding the little girl to death, and in the process turning Earth into a chaotic version of Dante's Inferno. Exactly what Giles thought this ritual was going to do had been unclear. But he had insisted, begged, nagged. And she'd agreed. Eventually.
When Tara and Willow and the others had headed back to Sunnydale, Giles and Buffy had gone deeper into the desert.
Saying nothing, Willow brushed her lips against Tara's fingers. As a vampire, Tara's body was room temperature, in this case that of a warm summer day. Willow's lips were warmer still. A slightly moist warmth, that penetrated far deeper than the skin. She kept kissing her fingers, and each kiss reached deeper. Tara felt herself relax slightly. Willow must have felt it as well, for she looked up just then. Her eyes pierced Tara deeper than any kiss.
But Tara still believed she was going to see Willow die.
* * *
Willow met with no trouble at the hospital. She already knew in which room to find Faith, although the dark-haired girl's appearance startled her. Nearly half her face was bruised, with a noticeable swollen lip. Plus there was a cast on her arm.
Most of all she looked exhausted.
"Hey, Red. Was wondering when any of you guys would show up."
"Yeah, well...things have been pretty crazy."
"Tell me."
"No how are you? Okay? Well, I mean, you're obviously not okay but that can be a relative term..."
"Red?"
"Uh...yes?"
"Tell me."
So Willow did. She didn't limit herself to just what had happened since Faith had ended up in intensive care. First, she sketched in general terms what had been going on since since Willow had visited Los Angeles. Then what had occurred over the last few days, as well as the various aftermaths. About how they'd fled into the desert, hoping to lose Glory now that she'd learned Dawn was the Key. But the Knights of Byzantium somehow followed, driving the mobile home off the road. How they took refuge in an abandoned gas station, but not before Riley was killed. Faith's eyes grew more intense at this news. Willow didn't think that possible. She went on to explain how Glory herself tracked down the Knights, killing every one of them before snatching Dawn.
"What about Bee? How's she holding up?"
"Its like...if she was a puppet, a marionette...as if somebody cut her strings, you know?"
Faith nodded. "Yeah" she breathed.
"Giles insisted they do a kind of ritual, something about renewing her soul's strength. He didn't say when they'd be back."
"From what you say, if its not by tonight then so what? Good-bye universe?"
"Pretty much. But we're putting together everything we can. There's the Dagon's Sphere. Plus April--that's the robot I told you about. She's really strong. Xander's pretty sure he knows where Glory'll be. And Riley said some Intiative-type guys were on their way."
"Uh huh. What about you and Tara?"
"Tara...she's got the Ring."
"You told me."
"So, she should be safe. And she's made a suggestion I haven't told anybody else about."
"But you're gonna tell me? Just how edgy is it?"
"Well, you know I've been getting better and better at magic? But doing anything big takes a lot out of me. I mean a lot! Tara thought that if we worked together, our control would be better. Plus we'd be able to access that much more."
"Makes sense."
"Yeah. But..."
"But...?"
"We've only got one shot at this. All or nothing. No second chances--no we'll-get-it-right-next time because there isn't going to be a next time unless we get it right this time! Which means, we don't have the luxury of playing it safe." She looked at Faith.
"Just what're you talkin about Red?"
At first, Willow said nothing. Then, "Dark magic."
"How dark?"
"Really, really dark. Like summoning the Elder Gods and letting them do their will. Its very dangerous, especially if we lose control."
"Okay." Faith took this in stride. "Very dangerous. Which means what?"
"If an Elder God's powers were simply...let go...a chunk of the city might go all liquidy. Before boiling. Then evaporating away poof. Not too big a chunk, but...maybe a dozen square miles or so. Maybe."
"Is that all?"
"Uh...yeah. That's it. Pretty much."
Faith nodded. "Sounds like you could use a Slayer that's fully operational."
"Giles said that he and Buffy..."
"I mean me."
"But...but your arm! Plus with the bruising, and everything else, and..." She let her eyes take in Faith's ravaged form. But still, this was Faith and there was steel in her eyes. "Promise you'll be careful."
"Promise."
Faith reached out, and Willow helped her out of bed.
* * *
Tara had always had an excellent memory. Plus what most people took as an odd sensibility. Fewer realised just how both of these were augmented by a really first-class mind. Such were the truths she'd lived with for two decades, eventually learning them to be truths and wearing them as something like badges of pride.
Now, all these fit together in a scavenging expedition. The ruins of Sunnydale High crawled with vermin. Once she'd been squeamish and would have minded them. No more.
Up in what had once been a bell tower was a room. She'd spent many a night meditating there, sometimes fighting the Hunger. Other times she'd simply read. And in her odd/individual way, she'd decorated this room. Maybe it was coincidence, or karma, or whatever, that led her to take one particular item as an ornament. Were circumstances less dire, she might have contemplated the string of factors that led here.
Not today.
Climbing the ladder was no problem. That it was a new, different ladder might be. Someone had been here. Or was here. Recently. Now?
At the level of what had been her former lair, Tara crouched. She extended her senses. Yes. There was an intruder. More, another vampire. Secure in her own power, she deliberately stood. One foot rose--then descended on the half-crushed beercan. It made a satisfying crunch sound. Like an enemy's bones snapping in a quick press. Tara welcomed her rage, hoping for the chance to lash out. Self-control had been a long, long habit. And she was tired.
The sound of the can brought forth a stirring from the pile of rags in the corner. Farthest from any hint of light. Of course. From its sheath, Tara slid out a curved blade the length of her forearm. She felt her face shift, preparing for combat.
But the vampiress that rose up out of the rags bore no weapon. More, she was painfully thin, even for one of the undead. Hollow cheeked, with sunken eyes and unwashed black hair. Her bare arms looked like sticks. It took Tara seconds to realize here was one of the timid ones, those who lacked the fierceness to hunt regularly or the sophistication with which to seduce. Such rarely lasted. They were sloppy, or careless, or simply unlucky.
And this one looked familiar.
"Michelle?" The gaunt female reacted with what might have been a jerk if done instantly or at normal speed. She blinked. "Is that your name?" After another blink, she slowly shrugged. Did she not care? Or not remember? Which was more disturbing?
"Do you" the poor creature's voice was ragged "want to sleep?" Her eyes weren't quite focussed.
"I'm Tara. Do you remember me?" Tara doubted it.
"Tar. Ra." She had trouble saying the word around fangs. Her expression didn't quite add up to recognition, though.
"Yes. Tara. And you're Michelle. You were at a bus stop, reading a romance novel. I came up to you, introduced myself. Remember?"
The expression on her face didn't change. Was she even listening? Could she anymore? Tara stared intensely, trying to spot a glimmer of the shy girl who'd been thrilled to have a blonde stranger flirt with her--thrilled but terrified. Later, as Tara had seized her, she'd been simply terrified, feeling her throat ripped open and her blood eagerly lapped up. At the time, Tara had been in a strange mood. Having taken far too much, Tara decided to be merciful and pressed her fresh-bleeding wrist to her victim's mouth. One swallow had been enough. But Tara hadn't stayed.
Now, nearly a year later, this was what Michelle had become. Gaunt, starved, brains half-addled by the blending of human with demon. The floor was strewn with the decaying remnants of rats, squirrels, even stray dogs. Each was dessicated. Many had been dead for days, if not weeks.
Michelle made a mewling sound, clearly tired and afraid. Of Tara? Or sunlight? Both?
"Go back to bed. I'll be leaving soon." Tara tried to make her voice soothing. Whether she succeeded or not was open to question, but at least Michelle (or what used to be Michelle) didn't bolt or attack. Slowly, Tara headed for the uppermost level. The stairs were mostly intact. As she headed for them, the gaunt creature behind scrambled underneath her rags.
Here was the other extreme of vampirism. Most of those transformed became vicious children with superhuman strength, with all the enthusiasm and lack of forethought that characterized the very young. In fact, the vast majority of vampires fit that description. Even the more intelligent Noferatu were nearly always governed by raw hunger, a veneer of civilization simply serving that need. Others, like Michelle, became animals with little skill at pretending to be anything else. In her case, she was probably a scavenger, drinking from other vampires' kills. If lucky, some stronger undead would notice and take her as a pet, allowing scraps in return for sexual performance. Or, without such, she'd be forced to hunt tiny animals in every greater quanitities, becoming more and more like the vermin she devoured.
Am I lucky to be different, wondered Tara? So different I fell in love? Different enough to meddle with horrors than face Willow's likely death. Does that make me wise? Enlightened? Or just more subtely cursed? Will my suffering be worse than Michelle's, simply because I retain the ability to feel more?
Tara didn't know.
Nor, as she found the piece of metal she'd expected, did she feel remotely close to an answer. But at least she had resolved to do what could be done. One hand closed over the object of her quest, and she gently headed back down. She did so quietly, hoping not to wake the monster she'd made from an innocent girl.
* * *
Hours later, Willow finished drawing the circle. A pentagram was within, and candles at each point. The pillow in the very center of the circle held the object of the spell. She found herself breathing hard. Praying, maybe? That this would work? Or for another failure?
Anya hesitated before lighting the candles. "This is probably a bad idea."
"Maybe," agreed Willow, "but we need to take some real chances now. End of the world and all."
"I know," said Anya. "But if anything goes wrong, we won't need any apocalypse to get hurt."
"True," said Tara. She stood to the side, the most important prop for the ritual in her hand. Even without her game face, she radiated unhuman intensity. Willow found this both frightening and exciting. "But we've had a lot of experience by now. And we're all in enough danger no matter what we do, this will only help."
"Yeah, okay." Anya resumed lighting the candles.
Willow finished the magic circle, then got out the book with the incantation. She waited for Anya to finish. Once she had, Anya stepped to her friend's side and took her hand. Both took very deep breaths. Several in fact. Oxygenating blood seemed a good idea before using your own body as a lens through which to focus eldritch energies. Couldn't hurt, anyway. Willow looked at Tara, who nodded.
So Willow began her chant.
"Dionysus, lord of transformations, hear now our plea!
Render shape once more onto its proper vessel!
Lend your will onto our own!"
She traced a magical rune in the air, which glowed green. A whiff of ozone followed. And the second part of the incantation followed.
"Loki, master of trickery, unleash now your power!
Make this unworthy one again what she was!
Ignite now your godly might!"
Another rune traced in the air, burning red this time. With a faint odor of brimstone.
Tara raised the object in both hands. Green and red reflected from its once-polished surface. Willow meanwhile, felt her nerves begin to shudder, while Anya beside her trembled. Taking several more breaths, Willow managed to speak again, but with difficulty.
"Ravana! King of devourers! Wielder of powers!
Accept this sacrifice of blood for blood!
Let DEATH mold flesh into new flesh!"
Hand shaking, Willow barely could force her fingers to take the needed position. She blinked. In an instant, she saw the world differently. Rather than light and dark, energies of magic rippled around her. Four souls glimmered in the room, like rainbow flames. Directly across from her, the red demon of Tara coiled within the fleshy shape. Willow pointed above her, at the bronze object.
"Transform!"
Each word had to be gasped out.
"Transform!"
Willow barely recognized her own voice. It seemed more liquid than ever before. Resonant as well.
"TRANSFORM!"
Pain cascaded from her hand as the power released, and Willow screamed. Dimly, she could feel a whirlwind gather, pulling the air from her lungs. Something clawed at her eyes from behind, while dozens of bells echoed in each ear discordantly. In a weird way, the thudding ache as her knees struck the floor was welcome.
Dizzy, she fell into darkness.
* * *
"WILLOW!"
Tara's own hands felt scalded from shattering the red hot metal sculpture. But she reached her love's side in less than a quarter second, looking into her face, aiming all her preternatural senses.
Alive. Thank all the gods, light and dark, Willow was yet alive.
Her glorious eyes flickered open.
"...Tara...?"
"Shhhh. I'm here. How do you feel?"
"...I'm...could be better." She licked her lips. "I think...maybe...a couple of thousand elves have decided to mine my nervous system for precious jewels." Eyes closed, she sighed. "That's what it feels like, kinda."
"Don't see any elves."
"Oh. Okay. Good."
Anya knelt beside them both. "Guys?"
Willow's eyes half-opened. Exhausted, yes. But more than alive, she was alert. Tara felt her own tension bleed away at that, at least. For a few more hours, Willow lived.
"Did it work?" asked Willow in faint voice.
Tara looked towards the circle. "Yeah," she said simply.
Anya took several steps, and extended her hand. The long-haired nude girl standing in the center of the circle took it, with some air of puzzlement. She also looked around the room, at the red-haired girl on the floor in the arms of a one-eyed blonde vampire. The walls around her were a disaster, the remnants of the once-comfortable Sunnydale High School Library. Now an overgrown ruin. Smoking, the pieces of a cheerleading trophy lay on the floor.
"Amy Madison, I presume," said Anya. "I'm Anya. Can you help us save the world?"
TO BE CONTINUED
------------------
"O let my name be in the Book of Love.
If it be there, I care not of
That other book Above...
Strike it out! Or write it in anew.
But let it be in the Book of Love!"
--Omar Kyam
by WiccanBex » Thu Sep 27, 2001 9:41 pm
------------------
"if you throw a stone, something's gonna shatter somewhere. We're all so fragile, we're all so scared."
nocturnal review site
by nika » Thu Sep 27, 2001 10:05 pm
by Scout » Fri Sep 28, 2001 4:01 pm
Great job, Zahir!
by Kalita » Fri Sep 28, 2001 9:00 pm
It's just that I don't recall any reference to it, is all...
by Zahir » Fri Sep 28, 2001 9:22 pm
In Never The Twain? Amy did indeed turn herself into a rat. Her mother was indeed trapped in the trophy.
Out of desperation, Tara and Willow and Anya have performed a human sacrifice (Mrs. Madison) to gain another experienced witch for the climactic battle with Glory. Thus Willow's slide to the Dark Side takes a slightly different route...
heh heh heh
MU-HAH-HAH-HAH!!!
------------------
"O let my name be in the Book of Love.
If it be there, I care not of
That other book Above...
Strike it out! Or write it in anew.
But let it be in the Book of Love!"
--Omar Kyam
by Rancour » Sat Sep 29, 2001 2:02 am
Oh, and if anyone's interested, I whacked up a review of the first 24 chapters o'this fine story...
the poser formerly known as rancour
------------------
Andrea: "End-of-the-world" portents, the living dead, evil arisen?
Jane: Yep. You drive?
-- Lew, "Hellmouth in Lawndale"
by Zahir » Sat Sep 29, 2001 10:34 am
------------------
"O let my name be in the Book of Love.
If it be there, I care not of
That other book Above...
Strike it out! Or write it in anew.
But let it be in the Book of Love!"
--Omar Kyam
by Kalita » Sat Sep 29, 2001 4:10 pm
quote:
Originally posted by Zahir:
Out of desperation, Tara and Willow and Anya have performed a human sacrifice (Mrs. Madison) to gain another experienced witch for the climactic battle with Glory. Thus Willow's slide to the Dark Side takes a slightly different route...
See, thare's me missing the subtle nuances of a scene in order to read it to its end. I'm impatient that way.
Kal
PS - Wait a second, how did they even know her Mom was in the trophy? Is that in an episode I've yet to see?
quote:by Scout » Sat Sep 29, 2001 5:19 pm
Edited to Add: Yes, that ending is very cool and creepy. Kal, I just realized you meant how did the girls know. Good question. Fortunately, Zahir cleared that up below.
[This message has been edited by Scout (edited September 29, 2001).]
by Zahir » Sat Sep 29, 2001 6:06 pm
heh heh heh
(P.S. Actually, it hasn't been shown in the series that Willow or anybody else knows what happened to Amy's Mom...I'm assuming Tara figured it out by herself, but that's for the next installment.)
------------------
"O let my name be in the Book of Love.
If it be there, I care not of
That other book Above...
Strike it out! Or write it in anew.
But let it be in the Book of Love!"
--Omar Kyam
by Kalita » Sat Sep 29, 2001 7:35 pm
by Brynn » Sat Sep 29, 2001 8:36 pm
by Zahir » Sun Oct 07, 2001 12:21 pm
* * *
Wesley cleared his throat, lifting one eyebrow and staring at those who'd gathered in the back of the Magic Shoppe. Privately, Tara thought his attempts to be serious either fell flat or succeeded magnificently. Usually, this depended on how much he was trying. Now, he wasn't trying but simply was.
And he came across as very serious indeed. With plenty of reason.
"I wont pretend we're not asking a great deal of you," he said. His eyes met those of the newest member of the group. Met and held them. His voice was low but piercing. "More, in fact, than is remotely fair. But the only other choice we have is to risk suffering and death for the entire world." Now he sat down across from her. "We don't even dare give you the time you need to adjust. Quite simply, too much is at stake. And we do need you. In just a few hours, we'll be going into combat against a being of terrifying power who intends to rip this entire reality into tatters. She'll do it simply because we're in the way." He paused.
Sensing all the eyes upon her, Amy managed not to wilt. Just pulled the coat Tara had lent her a bit tighter. Probably the strangers--like Gunn and Wesley--were easier to bear. Willow and Oz and Xander, whom she'd known before and now looked so much older probably were disorienting on a visceral level.
A part of Tara felt sorry for her. This had been her own idea, after all. It had been Tara who'd noticed the strange aura of the cheerleading trophy, then realized its significance after hearing the story from Willow about Amy's mother, a powerful and evil witch. Amy showed the same kind of power, but with an awkwardness that led to unforseen consequences. Like changing herself into a rat. No doubt that had seemed a good idea at the time. From what Tara understood, it probably was. Amy had been tied to a wooden stake and surrounded by kindling wood. Becoming a rat had allowed her to escape. Changing back had proven far, far more difficult. Until Tara realized the sacrifice of her mother would power magic enough to transform Amy back. Dark magic. Extremely dark. Mrs. Madison had been a captive and unwilling sacrifice. Forces willing accept such were extremely dangerous. Tara wouldn't even consider allowing Willow actually kill Amy's mother. Bad enough for her to work the ritual.
Yet even the result--a fourth witch of considerable power to help take on Glory--wasn't going to be enough to save Willow. Neither was the addition of Faith, weakened as she was from her wounds.
Willow was going to die.
And although Tara wracked her brain, she couldn't imagine a way to keep that from happening. She'd keep trying, adding to their forces every way she could. But in her unbeating heart, she didn't believe there was any real hope.
"Do you understand?" Wesley asked Amy.
She nodded.
"Will you help us?
"Yes." She looked very grave, very serious and very unhappy. Tara could relate.
* * *
"Tara?"
"Yes?"
"What's wrong? I mean--I know what's wrong because we all know what's wrong and we've been going on about it, but...there's something more wrong, isn't there?"
In a part of Willow's mind, she wondered at how her lover sighed at this. Not the reason for the sigh. Any or all of a dozen reasons for sighing came to mind, quite good ones when you come to think of it. If the end of the world wasn't a reason for sighing then what was? But a little voice in Willow reminded her that Tara didn't need to breathe. So why sigh? Habit, most likely.
"You're going to tell me, you know." Willow didn't raise her voice, so the others on the other side of the store couldn't hear her. But the timbre of her voice did. "So make with the telling, if you know whats good for you."
Tara paused before saying anything. In fact, Willow was preparing another needling plea when Tara fixed her one eye onto Willow's face and spoke. "I saw a vampire."
"Oh?" She tried to encourage details.
"A vampire I made."
"Oh." Awkwardness central now. Then, a flash of jealousy. "Was it Harmony?"
"No!" Her reaction was just a tiny bit panicked at that. A good thing? "I haven't seen Harmony for months."
"Oh." Vast with the vocabulary today. Wait a minute..."I didn't know you'd made any other vampires."
Tara nodded, her features grave. "One other. Her name was...is...maybe was...Michelle." Silence again. "After The Apostate killed himself, I didn't know what to do. He was--well, father and teacher and maybe even god for as long as I had existed. Plus there was you--someone who fascinated and drew me in, but human. I'm a vampire. Humans are my prey. What was worse, you were the friend of not one but two Slayers!"
"And you went to Los Angeles." Willow hadn't heard this before. Tara's voice was a subtle instrument, and its music was one she'd learned to read very well. She loved Tara's voice. But now that voice carried tones of past confusion and anguish, as well as current guilt. It was compelling but also uncomfortable. Tara's pain was her own now.
"Eventually. But the night before I left..." She hesitated. "Her name was Michelle." Silence followed. "A pretty girl at a bus stop, her nose buried in a book. I'd noticed her looking at me, sneaking an occaisional peak. So I sat down, introduced myself, got her to relax. Then, I fed on her."
"You killed her." Willow had meant that to come out as a question.
"The Apostate didn't approve of killing prey. Foolish waste he called it. And too conspicuous. I'd kinda gotten used to being hungry. But after the blood touched my tongue, the thought came to me. My Sire is gone. I don't have to obey him. He won't, he can't punish me. So I drank and drank and drank. Why not kill her, I thought? Why not?" She gave a little shrug. "Should have been a sign. I couldn't just kill her. At the very end, I cut my wrist and put it against her mouth. She drank. Not much, though. Enough."
Silence again. Willow found this story unsettling, but she was sure it wasn't over. Uncertain how to respond or what to say, she waited for Tara to continue in her own way.
"After," Tara finally said, "I put her body underground. Then I left Sunnydale. Forever, I thought. Earlier today, I went back to my old lair where the trophy was, in the ruins of Sunnydale High. And Michelle was there."
"How is she?" Willow was sure the smile she tried right then was all wrong for all sorts of reasons but she couldn't help herself.
"Terrible." Her lover suddenly looked quietly afraid. "She didn't recognize me. I'm not sure how much language she still has, or even if she remembers her old name. That sometimes happens when a vampire is made--they rise weak, even feeble-minded. No one knows why. Michelle is one of those. She's been so reduced all the blood she can get is that of vermin. Rat carcasses were all over the floor. She wore rags. And she'd lost so much weight! Once she was pretty girl. Now she's a scarecrow." Distressed, Tara shook her head.
"You couldn't have known..."
"Look what I'm doing to you!" Tara interrupted. The almost non sequitor brought Willow up cold. "You used to be a wiccan. Now, you're practicing black magic. Human sacrifice, even!"
Suddenly what was haunting Tara seemed clear. "No. Its not you."
"Who else?"
"Not even a little bit" Willow nearly hissed! "Don't you dare go on like that. Tara, look at me. Look at me!" Keeping her voice still down, Willow pulled Tara's chin to face her own. "Before you, I don't think I even knew what it was like to be alive. Whatever else you are--a vampire, a demon, a dark witch, whatever--you're my girl. Mine. All mine." Without any concious thought, they embraced. Her words whispered in Tara's ear. "The only thing that really, really scares me," she said, "is that maybe we'll save the world, but not you. Because you're my world now. Forever and ever."
In Tara's limbs she could feel reluctance, drawing away, even fear. But hunger as well. Equal to her own? Maybe. Willow didn't let go, refused to. Weird though it was, unlikely and maybe against somebody's rules somewhere, she'd made her choice. Or her heart had.
Cool hands pressed against Willow's back, pulling her closer. "Mine," she heard at last.
"Yours," Willow agreed.
Forever.
* * *
Tara didn't want that embrace to end. She willed herself not to consider how brief this moment had to be. Or what would soon follow. Better, far better, to dwell in this warm and loving NOW. Pretend it was forever. That it could be.
"Hello!" A familiar voice piped into their moment. Without willing it, Tara's face shifted for a moment as she stared at the one who dared interrupt. And shifted back as she saw who (or what) stood at the front door of the shop.
April smiled, as she nearly always smiled. She smiled because her creator had programmed her that way and she obeyed her programming with the precision of a computer. Because that's what she was. Or at least, that's what she had instead of a mind. "Hello Anya," she chirped to the woman at a nonplussed Xander's side. "Hello, Xander. I am happy you are better now."
'Uh...thanks." Xander blinked. Well, he hadn't had a chance to get used to her. And a robot that looked like Britney Spears did take some getting used to, after all.
"Hello to you as well, Tara and Willow." Again, the precise and perfect smile. Too perfect to be real. "I do not know these others. Will you please introduce me to them?"
"Okay," Willow said. She gave a last hug to Tara then stepped away. A part of Tara wanted to scream Come Back.
"April," her love began, "this is Faith, who's a Slayer."
"Like Buffy?"
"Right."
"Hello Faith the Slayer like Buffy." Faith looked nonplussed at the blonde girl reaching out to shake her hand.
"Yeah, hi. Nice to meet ya."
"April" explained Willow, "is a robot. She was built by a guy named Warren. One of Glory's victims. But he's been healed and Tara asked him is April could help us. She's way strong."
"A robot, huh?" The dark-haired Slayer looked April up and down. "Cool."
"Thank you, Faith."
"Over here are Gunn and Wesley. They're friends of Faith's."
Gunn was staring. "Hey" he finally said.
"Hey as well," the robot cheerily answered.
"Pleased to meet you, I suppose," mumbled Wesley.
"And I am pleased to make your acquaintance!"
"She always like that?" asked Gunn not quite under his breath.
"Mostly," murmured Willow. Then, she spoke to April again. "Finally, these are Oz and Amy."
"Hi," said a slightly dazed Amy, eyes huge.
"Hi," said a stoic Oz, not blinking. But then, did he ever?
"Hi yourselves, Oz and Amy. Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?" The two of them looked at each other. Interesting. Something finally made Oz react--and it wasn't something earth-shattering.
"N-n-no?" Amy answered. This clearly wasn't doing anything for her nerves. Did she know Oz was a werewolf? If not, it was probably best not to tell her. Enough shocks already--finding herself human again after almost three years, learning her mother had been killed to change her back and that a vampire did it to try defeat a god and so save the world. Enough on her plate, for sure.
"I am sorry," went on the robot, oblivious. "Hopefully each of you will get a boyfriend or girlfriend very soon."
Nobody said anything in response. Oz did walk away, though, quietly taking a seat in the corner.
"Thanks for coming, April," said Tara at last. "Everything will be decided by tonight, so if all goes well you can go back to Warren before long." She didn't really believe things could go right, but it had to be said. What was the alternative? Give up and weep in despair.
"Warren said you should use me as long as you need to," the robot replied. "He said to tell you that."
"Okay," answered Willow. "Well...thanks."
* * *
By sunset, everybody had gotten rest, or at least as much rest as possible under the circumstances. To Willow, that meant curling up with Tara and trying to sleep. She didn't sleep. Instead she lay next to her lover, head against Tara's breast and listening to the echo of her own heartbeat. It was strange. Tara had no breath to feel, no heart to hear beating. She was simply there--yet to Willow's senses her presence was vivid in the extreme. How much of this was psychological? And how much mystic, the sense of a witch at the presence of a supernatural creature bound to her by love?
Willow had tried to make Tara feed from her, but the vampire had refused. You need every bit of your strength, she'd said. She had sounded very rational, very clear. But to Willow an undercurrent of fear was obvious.
She'd said nothing. What was there to say?
Instead, they simply wrapped each other in each other.
A knock on the door startled Willow out of her fake sleep. She blinked and muttered "Hello?" The door opened and Wesley's head peaked in.
"Sorry to interrupt..." he whispered, "...but it is getting to be time."
Willow nodded. The door shut. She then shared a look with Tara. An air of melancholy still hung around her. Memories of Michelle, the girl she'd turned into a pathetic wretch of a vampire? Maybe. Or tightly controlled fear?
"Time to save the world!" She tried to make it sound flippant. Tara's little smile gave her hope that maybe she succeeded. As one, they rose from the collection of pillows and blankets on which they'd been resting. In the hallway, they found the others emerging from the various bedrooms here in the Summers home. Gunn, surprisingly, was rubbing his eyes. Had he actually managed to sleep? Impressive.
April was waiting at the foot of the stairs, smiling as ever. She looked up at Willow.
"I can report no sightings of your friend Buffy, Willow." Her vocal tones did register regret, even if too precisely.
"Thanks, anyway, April." The windows showed darkness. Night. The clock on the wall read nearly eight o'clock. Another hour to go. She shot a look at Xander, already downstairs and seated on a sofa, his arm around Anya. "Anything new?"
"Nope." Xander seemed to focus in on himself for a moment. Then he was back. "Nope," he repeated, "the time is coming up but it still isn't here. And I still get the same sense of where the ritual is going to take place."
Amy was sitting down at the table where several old books lay open. She'd changed into some simple, comfortable clothes. Willow recognized them as Buffy's. Now she stared at the glowing orb in the table's center, surrounded by four objects. A dagger. A cup. A wand. And a silver dollar coin. Beside each object was a tarot card--the Queens of Swords, Chalices, Wands and Pentacles.
With barely a word, Amy picked up the cup. Anya walked over and took the coin. Tara and Willow approached, taking the dagger and wand in hand. All four looked at each other. Willow vaguely sensed a new connection, some kind of magical bond uniting them in some way with the Orb of Dagon, a talisman specifically designed to ward against Glory. Silently, she thanked whatever gods or goddesses that might be Tara wore the Ring of Amara. Whatever else might happen, at least Tara should survive.
"Primus" said Willow. Something in the air clicked.
"Secundus" answered Anya, beginning the cone of power.
"Tertius" whispered Tara. A dark undercurrent added to the not-quite-sound Willow sensed.
"Quartus," said Amy, finally. The volume (if that was what it was) increased, and its rhythms reached a kind of sustained crescendo. It peaked, then sank into Willow's bones. She shuddered at the impact, which was both hot as well as cold. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noted similar reactions in Amy, Anya and of course Tara.
"Are you ready?" Wesley had come up to them. She hadn't noticed. He had a small axe in hand. Behind him, Gunn and Oz and Faith (still limping slightly) were also armed. Willow nodded.
Everyone looked towards Xander, who gestured in a specific direction. "That way." The whole group moved as one towards the front door.
Barely seconds after starting to cross the Summers' lawn, all of them stopped short as bright lights suddenly turned the night into something like day. Two large vehicles were pulling up at high speed, their headlights glaring. Engines roared, then brakes gave little screams. Two wide, low-slung vehicles had pulled up and stopped in front of the house. Several figures jumped out, all of them clearly armed and wearing camouflage fatigues. In the shadows no faces or insignia were obovious.
Not to Willow. She looked to Tara, whose expression was thoughtful.
"Hey! Hey! What's goin on here?" Gunn was already jittery. Being surrounded by soldiers for no apparent reason did nothing to help.
"Stay calm, Gunn," Willow called out. "Let's see what they want."
A voice called out from the shadows. "Same thing you do Will!"
Every single person turned their head at the sound of that voice. She walked into the light of the vehicles, her face calm but full of resolve. Willow could feel her jaw want to drop. It didn't, not yet, but wanted to for sure.
"I'm back," said Buffy. "And I brought some more guest for the party."
TO BE CONTINUED
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"O let my name be in the Book of Love.
If it be there, I care not of
That other book Above...
Strike it out! Or write it in anew.
But let it be in the Book of Love!"
--Omar Kyam
by nika » Sun Oct 07, 2001 1:13 pm
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"Eat lot's of applesauce, preferably fed to you by attractive young lesbians." Amber Benson
by Dumbsaint » Sun Oct 07, 2001 1:28 pm
by tarasfan » Sun Oct 07, 2001 1:37 pm
xoxo
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Amber – It’s the end of the cheese man
by willow-phile » Sun Oct 07, 2001 10:39 pm
by WiccanBex » Sun Oct 07, 2001 11:10 pm
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"if you throw a stone, something's gonna shatter somewhere. We're all so fragile, we're all so scared."
nocturnal review site
by Katharyn » Sun Oct 07, 2001 11:34 pm
Katharyn
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She's my always
by xita » Mon Oct 08, 2001 1:21 am
by mollyig » Mon Oct 08, 2001 2:25 am
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"Adding up the total of a love that's true multiply life by the power of two"
- Emily Saliers (Indigo Girls)
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