if only willow could have realised it as quickly as dawn..
excellent.
by delany » Mon Nov 26, 2001 9:16 pm
excellent.
by TrueXena » Mon Nov 26, 2001 9:48 pm
------------------
Later dayz,
TrueXena
"I'm so evil, and skanky...and I think I'm kinda gay."
[This message has been edited by TrueXena (edited November 26, 2001).]
by YuriPup » Wed Nov 28, 2001 9:16 pm
Favorlate line from the last bit:
quote:
Buffy jumped to her feet, filling a glass and placing a straw in it. Here, she was in her element. Here, she had a task – something she could >do<, that would make a difference. Dawn needed water, and Buffy could provide it.
I can soooo see Buffy earnstly getting Dawn water!
You, have, as usual, nailed the charicterizations! Nibblet, LOL!
by Sassette » Thu Nov 29, 2001 5:29 pm
Somehow, I feel like a little kid who has just been caught smoking behind the barn.... I'll get back to the other stuff when this is finished.
Anyway, you fabulous Kittens, I should have part 12: "Cold" up later tonight, unless I'm working ungodly hours AGAIN.
Thank you all for your nice notes - I appreciate them to no end *G*
-Sass
by YuriPup » Thu Nov 29, 2001 5:43 pm
by Web Warlock » Thu Nov 29, 2001 7:49 pm
Warlock.
------------------
Web Warlock
web.warlock@home.com webwarlock@planetadnd.com
Author, the Netbooks of Witches and Warlocks
The Other Side: http://www.xtreme-gaming.com/~theotherside/
The DnD Community Council: http://www.dndcommunitycouncil.org/nbownw
--
"It could be witches, Some evil witches.
Which is ridiculous, 'Cause witches, they were persecuted Wicca good and love the earth
And women power and I'll be over here."
by Sassette » Fri Nov 30, 2001 7:07 pm
Title: Answering Darkness Part 12 - Cold
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to pink_overalls@yahoo.com
Summary: Willow wakes up
Spoiler Warning: Up to and including "Tabula Rasa" in Season 6.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm just borrowing them because Season 6 angst is running high, and I want my happy ending now, dammit! So I'm writing it … but it'll be awhile until I get to that part, so bear with me (or "bare" with me if you're naughty).
Rating: PG-13.
Notes: For the purpose of this story, all events of Tabula Rasa took place exactly as shown in the series; however, no subsequent episodes will affect this piece. We're splitting from canon here, because this seems the fastest way to get a reconciliation and because I feel this is one of the possible outcomes when taking the "addiction" metaphor into account. So, I should shut the heck up now, and just get to the story, right? Right.
Answering Darkness Part 12
Cold
By Sassette
When Willow woke, the spot in the bed next to her was cold. With a start, she awoke, the old creeping over her from Tara's side of the bed and into her heart.
She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest and gathering the covers around her and tucked up under her chin. The curtains were closed, just a pale edge of light outlining the placement and shape of the window. She assumed it was just past dawn, but the sun couldn't touch her chilled cocoon.
The dark shapes and shadows here were familiar, but wrong. This wasn't her room. Where was she? Where was Tara?
The answer to that question came to her with the suddenness of a blow. Gone. Tara was gone, and she … she was alone.
Shivering against the chill morning air, Willow curled up tighter, a low heart-wrenching keening noise escaping her. The pitiful wretched tones filling the air. A sob shook her body, then another, until she couldn't stop them, or the stark reality of Tara's departure, from filling her.
She had had a dream last night, that everything was okay - that her spell had worked, and Tara had forgotten. Buffy had forgotten. She and Tara had been in bed together, snuggled up close, and she had known that everything was right with the world. She had been warm and safe, and so very happy.
But she had woken up alone on a cold winter morning, at her parents house, knowing that everything wasn't okay. Last night had been full of spells and demons and pain. Buffy hurting, Dawn in the hospital, Giles in England, and Tara - oh, God, Xander had said Tara was going to go home, back to the people who had treated her so badly.
Why would Tara want to do such a thing? She couldn't fathom it - couldn't wrap her brain around the idea that Xander and Buffy had given her a place to go when she, Willow, was no longer where Tara wanted to be.
An icy resolve filled her - one that terrified her even as it gave her hope. Xander had said she had to give up magick for a week to get Tara back, so that's what she would do. She could do it, she knew she could. Tara didn't know, though, so she had to show her. She could do that, she was sure of it. There wasn't anything she couldn't do for Tara, and if this is what Tara needed, then she would. But first, she had to get out of bed.
She threw the covers off before she could think about it too hard, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and placing her feet on the cool carpet.
Shivering, she stood, looking around the room that had been her home for eighteen years. There wasn't enough light to really see. Automatically, she made a quick gesture, a mumbled word passing her lips, and the curtains opened, letting the feeble rays of the sun into the room.
The sky was overcast, all gray and gloomy. It matched Willow's mood as she moved to the closet, opening it and looking at the clothes there. God, she hadn't seen any of these in years. She was surprised, really, that her parents had kept her high school things.
She rummaged through the clothes, finally finding a pair of jeans and a t-shirt in the very back that weren't so bad. Quickly dressing, she went to the door, her hand on the knob before stopping cold.
A chill went up and down her spine and she froze. Had she just - ? She turned slowly, staring at the window, then raising her hand into her line of sight, staring at both like she had never seen them before. Had she opened the curtains with magick? Surely, she hadn't, right? She had just decided she was going to go a week without using any, so she couldn't have changed her mind mere moments later. She had had on her resolve face - nothing had ever beaten her resolve face.
A look of total shock playing across her features, Willow sat down heavily on the floor, her back pressed to the cool wood door. She hadn't meant to - it had just happened. She had needed light, and then the curtains were open, but that didn't really mean anything. It had been a reflex, and she'd just have to be more careful. This wouldn't count. She'd just start her week over, and everything would be all right again. It had to be.
Sighing, Willow stood awkwardly. She would just do better from now on. The magick wasn't in charge here - she was. And as of right now, she wouldn't do any magick. Nodding emphatically, she turned and opened the door, making her way down to the kitchen.
She looked around the room, a frown tugging at her face. It looked exactly the same, right down to the itinerary up on the fridge.
"Our of town again," she muttered to herself, one finger tracing the paper lightly. That was okay, though. It made being her easier, knowing her parents were away for the week.
But being here wasn't easy. The sharp contrast between this room and the Summers kitchen struck her sharply. The Summers kitchen was warm and inviting, and this … this wasn't. It was sterile. Functional.
Willow opened the fridge, looking at the food inside through watery eyes. She didn't belong here, not anymore. The food looked decidedly not-appetizing, and Willow's stomach felt like it was filled with lead. She just wasn't hungry, so she closed the door, wondering what she was going to do with herself for the rest of the day.
She supposed she could get started on unpacking. With a swing of her arms, she headed determinedly out to the foyer where the boxes sat haphazardly around the door. She picked one up and started towards the stairs, then stopped.
Why should she spend hours unpacking everything? Why should she carry these heavy boxes all the way up the stairs? With a few simple words, all of her things would be unpacked and in place, and she could go do something else. There was no one here to stop her, so why not?
She put the box down, turning to look at the other boxes.
"Tara wouldn't like it," she told herself sternly, shaking her head, trying to clear the idea out. But it would be so easy, and it wouldn't hurt anything. Tara wouldn't even have to know. She could just …
"Just what?" she asked herself aloud, trying to ignore the idea that talking aloud to oneself was kinda' crazy. "Just lie to her some more?" She couldn't do that. Not if she wanted Tara back. But if she didn't know, then where was the harm? Tara wasn't the boss of her. Tara wasn't the one who had all this power building up inside of her until it was screaming to be let out.
She continued arguing with herself, even as she said the words and the boxes and their contents disappeared, reappearing in her room, everything in its place.
"Oh, God. What did I just do?" she muttered, her eyes wide and disbelieving as she stared at the empty space where the boxes had been. This was harder than she had thought it would be. And she was failing miserably.
Could she really have a problem? Could the magick really be controlling her, rather than the other way around? The mere thought made her heavy stomach twist and a wave of nausea washed over her. With a groan, she dashed to the bathroom, hand over her mouth, then knelt before the toilet, dry heaves shaking her body.
She could stop, couldn't she?
Of course she could.
Then why wasn't she? Why the spells?
Because it was easier. She didn't have to do things the hard way anymore.
Yes, she did. She had to get Tara back the hard way. She had tried the easy way, and she had failed. She had failed miserably, because she was a miserable failure. She was a fake and a fraud and …
A knock sounded at the door. Pale and clammy, Willow stood, quickly splashing some water on her face before going to the foyer where she had just … no, she wouldn't think about it.
Another knock, and her hand was on the doorknob. She turned it slowly, pulling it open.
"Hi!" Anya said brightly, beaming at Willow. "Xander said I should come by to tell you that Dawn was all right," she said earnestly. "He also said that I should check up on you and tell him how you were doing."
Willow gaped at Anya for a moment, before her words sunk in. Dawn was all right. A flood of relief poured through her, and her eyes drifted shut for a moment.
"I can see that you're pale and shaky, but standing and dressed, which is more than I expected. Well, I'm going to go open the magick shop," Anya.
"Wait," Willow said desperately. "Can't you stay a minute? I could make tea, or … something?" she said. Anya had to stay. She wouldn't cast any spells in front of Anya, so as long as Anya was here, she would be safe. As long as Anya was here, she wouldn't have to tell Tara how weak and pitiful she was.
"Oh, I couldn't. I'm a working girl, and there's money to be made."
"But … do you usually make sales this time of morning?" Willow asked, casting around for an argument that would make Anya stay, at least for a little while. "Because if you open the shop, but don't make any sales, you'll actually lose money, because you'll have to pay yourself … and, and the electricity you'll use with the lights on - you'll have to pay for that, too. And the wear and tear on the chairs and carpeting, being in there with no sales … that costs money. So you should really stay," Willow babbled.
Anya looked at Willow suspiciously before stepping into the house. "Tea? You're going to actually make the tea and not just …" she said, making a vague gesture in the air.
"Oh, I'll make it!" Willow said quickly. "With the pot and the water and everything."
"Well, all right. I suppose I could stay for a little while," Anya said. Willow closed the door and led Anya into the kitchen, getting her seated before bustling around making the tea.
"Did Xander, umm… did he say anything about last night?"
"Which part of last night? There were lots of happenings last night."
"Well, any of it," Willow said slowly, her mind turning over the events of last night.
"He said Tara had to stay with us, because she was going to leave Sunnydale, even though she agreed to help with the wedding," Anya said. "Which means she must have been really upset, because Tara isn't the kind to make a promise and not follow through. I know that kind. I used to punish that kind."
"Umm… yeah," Willow agreed, unsure of how to respond to that. "But she's staying in Sunnydale, right? Xander said he talked her into staying."
"Yes, Xander said he and Tara bonded, but not in a sex way, because Tara is gay, too. Anyway, he said they bonded, and that Tara wasn't going to go live with her abusive family again. She's going to stay with Buffy. They talked about it last night."
Willow's brow furrowed. Abusive? They were mean, and they didn't appreciate Tara, but abusive? No, Anya had to mean emotionally, and for that alone, Willow could happily turn them all into toads.
"… and I'd turned them all into toads, if I were still a Vengeance Demon," Anya was saying, as Willow realized she had tuned out of the conversation.
"Who? Tara's family?"
"No, Xander's parents," Anya said, frowning. "Haven't you been listening?"
"Oh, sure … I just got mixed up," Willow said apologetically.
"That's okay. Xander said you were really out of it last night. He said he was attacked by a demon, which makes me feel angry, because I don't like it when Xander is hurt. But he wasn't hurt, because Spike and you fought the demon off. So, thank you. Xander says I need to work harder on thanking people when they do something nice for me. It's polite." She beamed.
"You're welcome, Anya," Willow said. Yes, she and Spike had fought off a demon last night. But if a demon attacked now, with her new resolve to not use magick, what would she do? Would she even have a choice, or would she find herself casting a spell before she'd even thought about it? The idea chilled her.
"Well, I must go open the shop now. We should have paying customers soon, and I don't want anyone with money to find the shop closed," Anya said, standing up. Willow stood as well and walked Anya to the door. "Thank you for the tea. Oh, and there's a Scooby meeting tonight. We're meeting at the shop, so we can do research."
"You're welcome, and I'll see you at the meeting," Willow said, and then Anya was gone, and Willow was in a big empty house all alone, at a loss as to what to do now.
Impulsively, she opened the hall closet, her fingers folding around her coat. She tugged it on and grabbed her keys, leaving the house and stepping out into the cool morning. A walk would help. A walk would keep her busy, and if she went somewhere with lots of people, she couldn't just throw magick around. She'd have to be careful, and in being careful, maybe, just maybe, she'd get through this week.
by TrueXena » Fri Nov 30, 2001 7:28 pm
Thank you.
------------------
Later dayz,
TrueXena
"I'm so evil, and skanky...and I think I'm kinda gay."
by Sassette » Fri Nov 30, 2001 7:33 pm
Which, of course, reminds me... if you want a post-addiction 'Making Up Now' fic that's not as Willow-Addicted Angst-Ridden as this one, I highly recommend Reflections in Raindrops... it's here on Pens. Though unfinished, it's a real sweet read, and deals with Amy and various and sundry other things that I'm refusing to mention. And it's chock full of W/T goodness *G*
Anyway, I'll have 13 up later tonight, unless the demons stop me.
-Sassette
[This message has been edited by Sassette (edited November 30, 2001).]
by Web Warlock » Fri Nov 30, 2001 8:32 pm
Willow's logic on getting Anya to stay instead of opening the shop sounded like classic Willow.
Looks like someone else has been watching the repeats as well!
Warlock
------------------
Web Warlock
web.warlock@home.com webwarlock@planetadnd.com
Author, the Netbooks of Witches and Warlocks
The Other Side: http://www.xtreme-gaming.com/~theotherside/
The DnD Community Council: http://www.dndcommunitycouncil.org/nbownw
--
"It could be witches, Some evil witches.
Which is ridiculous, 'Cause witches, they were persecuted Wicca good and love the earth
And women power and I'll be over here."
by emily 'first' » Sat Dec 01, 2001 3:50 am
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vive,valeque.
by Sassette » Sat Dec 01, 2001 4:47 am
Title: Answering Darkness Part 13 - Clarity
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to pink_overalls@yahoo.com
Summary: Tara still hasn't slept.
Spoiler Warning: Up to and including "Tabula Rasa" in Season 6.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm just borrowing them because Season 6 angst is running high, and I want my happy ending now, dammit! So I'm writing it … but it'll be awhile until I get to that part, so bear with me (or "bare" with me if you're naughty).
Rating: PG-13.
Notes: For the purpose of this story, all events of Tabula Rasa took place exactly as shown in the series; however, no subsequent episodes will affect this piece. We're splitting from canon here, because this seems the fastest way to get a reconciliation and because I feel this is one of the possible outcomes when taking the "addiction" metaphor into account. So, I should shut the heck up now, and just get to the story, right? Right.
Answering Darkness Part 13
Clarity
By Sassette
Tara was tired. So much had happened in the last 24 hours, and she wasn't sure if she could really absorb all of it. Dawn was sleeping again, tucked safely in her bed after protesting through her yawns that she wasn't at all tired. Buffy, too, was sleeping, the stress knocking her out.
But Tara was too tired to sleep. Or maybe it was that her mind was too busy to let her rest. She kept turning over the angles, looking at her actions of the last day, week, year. Should she have done anything differently? And why was she second-guessing herself to begin with?
Sighing, she gazed out the kitchen window. The sun was up, the morning's dreariness having burned off, leaving a cool but clear day behind. Tara wished her doubts and questions could leave as easily. She wished the light and heat of the sun could just drive them away, so she could get some rest.
Even still, underneath the questions and doubts was a sharp ache that likely wouldn't let her sleep anyway. It gnawed at her, reminding her with each breath that she had turned away from the only person she had ever loved. It told her over and over that the one person she had trusted above all others had betrayed that trust, and that she may never know the breadth of that betrayal, because she could never be sure she remembered everything.
She wanted to just forgive. It was so tempting to go find Willow, hold her close, and tell her everything would be all right. But she'd be lying, and she loved Willow too much to lie to her. Nothing would be all right until Willow fully realized how wrong she had been, and how much she had hurt her.
Tara slipped out the back door, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth as she looked out at the day. Everyone was going about their business, unaware of how close the world had come to ending just months before. They were all so blissfully unaware, and Tara envied that. She envied the innocence and naivete that allowed them to go about their lives and not see the demons that lurked around every corner.
But she hadn't been like that for a very long time. She had been aware of the demons since she was a very small girl, and yet the fears she had living in Sunnydale were nothing compared to the fear that she, herself, was a demon. Maybe it was a bizarre way of looking at things, but nothing compared to how she felt when she thought she was the one who would do the hurting.
Now, however, she was the one who was hurt. With a rueful half-smile, she sent a silent thanks to Xander for talking her out of returning home. In the clear light of morning, she realized she didn't belong there. No matter how bad she felt about leaving Willow and hurting her, she couldn't give in to the small part of herself that felt she deserved to return to whatever punishments her father and brother could devise. Xander had been right: she needed to hang on to the woman she had become thanks to Willow, and not let this break-up destroy her. Though it would be so easy to just give in, wasn't that one of the things she was angry with Willow for? Taking the easy way out?
Tara sat on the steps, her elbows on her knees and her hands loosely clasped. She let her eyes drift shut as she lifted her face to the sun, breathing deep of the clear air. No, she couldn't take the easy way out. She would prove to herself that she had deserved Willow's love in the first place, and that she hadn't deserved her betrayal. She would stay in Sunnydale and get a degree, and who knew where she'd go from there? But she would have options - options she wouldn't have had if she had just wrapped herself around her pain and returned to her family.
More importantly, here in Sunnydale she had hope. She had the hope that Willow would be willing and able to give up the magick. There was no hope with her father and brother; there was only an endless day of chores and the consequences she faced for any "evil" behavior.
Flashes of her dream from that morning played across her mind's eye, and she shivered. There was something so very strange and sinister about that dream, but she didn't really understand it. She supposed it was her subconscious telling her she had to leave Willow until Willow wanted her more than the magick, but that seemed too obvious and too pat to her. Besides, there was some strange … flavor to the dream.
Her grandmother, she knew, had been gifted with dreams that were more visions, though her mother had not. Had she herself inherited that gift? Did this dream mean something more … something deeper?
Shaking her head, she stood, walking back into the warm kitchen and out of the cold day. If she thought too hard about it, the answer wouldn't come. Perhaps she would meditate later, or do some gardening and let her mind clear. Maybe the answer would come then.
A sleepy and tousled teenager wandered into the kitchen, yawning hugely.
"You should really get some more sleep," Tara admonished the young woman.
"I couldn't stay in bed anymore," Dawn replied, leaning against the counter, frowning at the dark circles under Tara's eyes. "Shouldn't >you< be in bed?" Tara, frankly, looked completely exhausted and worn out.
"Yes, probably," Tara sighed. "But I couldn't sleep," she confided. "What would you like for breakfast? Pancakes? Eggs?"
"You don't have to cook for me," Dawn said quickly. "Why don't you sit down, and I'll just pour myself some cereal. You want any?"
"No, thank you. If you're having the 'loaded with sugary goodness' kind, have some orange juice, too," Tara said, retrieving a glass from the cupboard and placing it on the counter.
Dawn nodded, pouring the cereal and the juice and moving to the table with her breakfast. Tara sat down with her, continuing to gaze out the window.
"You should probably eat something, too," Dawn prodded. "There's plenty of sugary goodness to go around."
A small smile appeared on Tara's face, then disappeared. "I'm really not hungry."
"Okay," Dawn said, her worry growing. It wasn't like Tara to do anything that would 'set a bad example' in front of her, and between that and the break-up, Dawn wasn't sure what to think.
"You sure you don't need to sleep more?" Tara asked suddenly.
"I'm fine," Dawn said. "I'm kinda' tired, but not sleepy tired. I had lots of sleep. I'm more of a 'how about I just sit here and watch TV all day' kind of tired."
"That stuff'll rot your brain," Tara said wryly. Dawn was a real brain, like Willow, and she wasn't honestly afraid watching TV would in any way do any harm, but the idea of Dawn just sitting around and watching TV for an entire day didn't sit well with her anyway. "How about we start your Wicca lessons?"
"Today?" Dawn asked, eyes wide.
"As soon as you finish that cereal. And >all< the orange juice. And - good God, did that milk turn pink?"
"Yup," Dawn confirmed happily, finishing off the cereal, then downing the orange juice so fast Tara thought she'd choke. Dawn rose, rinsing her dirty dishes under running water before placing them in the dishwasher. "What spell is first?" Dawn asked eagerly.
"No spell is first," Tara said firmly. "And even if there >were< a spell that was first, we wouldn't do it now. Your energy is still down."
"Then what are we going to do?" Dawn asked.
"Garden," Tara said with a smile, opening a drawer and pulling out a small trowel. "Grab a jacket - it's cold."
"Garden?" Dawn asked, making a face but dutifully grabbing a jacket before following Tara out to the small herb garden she had started when she moved in.
"Actually, I'll be gardening. You're going to sit and watch."
"I can't even help with the gardening?" Dawn asked incredulously.
"Dawnie," Tara said seriously. "You've taken a great strain. You don't get to do anything but sit, stand, walk within the confines of the house, and lay down for at least the whole weekend."
"But -"
"No buts. Here," Tara said, indicating a patch of grass. "Sit there and watch."
And so the lesson started, Tara carefully tending to her garden, pointing out each plant and their various uses to Dawn. Rather than being boring, as she had expected, Dawn found it all very interesting, asking questions and reciting back information as Tara asked.
"But why even have a garden?" Dawn asked finally as Tara stood up, brushing her dirty hands off and marching back into the house. "Wouldn't it be easier to just buy the stuff you need from the magick shop?"
"Two reasons. First, we're all on a budget. Growing plants is less expensive than buying them. Second, it's better for the magick to grow what you need yourself," Tara explained.
"Why is it better?" Dawn asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Well, all magick has a source," Tara began, trying to explain what she fundamentally understood and couldn't remember ever actually putting into words. "A Wiccan's source is nature. Plants, animals, the four elements … that sort of thing." Tara paused, waiting for Dawn's nod of understanding.
"I'm with you so far," Dawn confirmed.
"Good. Anyway, there are lots of different sources. Demons, angels, your own power, emotions, even the hellmouth could be used as a magickal source. But all of these take a different style of magick."
"Okay, so since the Wicca force is nature, growing your own nature is better?" Dawn guessed.
"Right, but there's a little more," Tara said, smiling. "There are two ways to use a magickal source. You can ask, or you can command. Both have their dangers, though asking is better. The only danger in that is that your source will say no, and the spell won't work. If you try to command, though, and what you're commanding is more powerful than you are, things can go very wrong."
"Like what I did last night?" Dawn asked quietly.
"Dawn, you're fifteen. I don't expect you to always make the right choice. I do, however, expect you to learn from your mistakes," Tara said slowly, her tone warm and reassuring.
"Okay," Dawn said after a moment, smiling. "So you were talking about asking and commanding the different sources?"
"Right," Tara said, going back into the lesson. "A Wiccans magick is based on respectfully asking nature to lend their power to spells. Actually nurturing and helping the plants grow and thrive shows your respect and caring for nature, and so they're more likely to help you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I do," Dawn said smiling, then letting out a yawn.
"I know you're a big girl, but you might want to consider taking a nap," Tara said fondly.
Dawn nodded, walking to the stairs. "Yeah, I think I will. All that plant talk wore me out."
Tara watched Dawn go, tucking her hands into the pockets of her sweater, her fingers meeting cool metal. Frowning, she pulled the chain out of her pocket, her eyes falling on the doll's eye crystal she had forgotten in the craziness the night before.
Holding the crystal by the chain, she raised it to her eyes, studying it intently. She lifted her other hand, tracing the smooth surface with the tip of her finger, then flinched as a strange sensation jolted through her the moment her skin touched it.
Memories and thoughts clicked into place, orderly and clear. New questions arose, but so many important ones were answered as pieces of the puzzle slid together to show her a clear picture. She remembered everything, now - she remembered everything Willow had made her forget, and a feeling of relief surged within her as she realized that it was nothing she didn't already know. Willow hadn't cast the spell on her before Halloween. Her shadowy fears of other forgotten events evaporated, and her heart felt just a little bit lighter.
She knew the doll's eye crystal brought clarity to those who were questioning, but she had never experienced such a sharp and sudden burst of awareness before. Perhaps Willow's spell had just confused and hidden the memories, instead of taken them away completely.
But more importantly, a new burning question had arisen from the moment of clarity. When Willow had turned to dark magicks, what was her source?
by Charlie » Sat Dec 01, 2001 1:55 pm
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When I am an old woman I shall wear purple,
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me,
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves,
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
- Jenny Joseph
by xita » Sat Dec 01, 2001 3:37 pm
by Sassette » Sat Dec 01, 2001 8:39 pm
Answering Darkness Part 14
Sources
By Sassette
Anya beamed at the departing old woman. Her garish clothes and large cane made her a decidedly odd figure, but Anya didn’t care. She had just bought a load of books, a few crystals, and some chalk. Anya did a little jig, carefully waiting until she heard the bell signaling the woman’s departure before doing so. It would be unprofessional to dance in front of a paying customer.
“S-sorry,” she heard, looking up to see Tara holding the door for the woman.
“Quite alright,” the woman said kindly, her brown eyes twinkling up at Tara as she hefted her packages and walked out of the store.
“Hello, Tara,” Anya said, smiling at the other woman. “Have you come to purchase something?” she asked hopefully.
“No, I wanted to do some research,” Tara said, moving to the bookshelves and looking over them. “I’ve been through all my reference material. I needed some new sources,” she said absently, her finger tracing the spines of the books as she looked over, then dismissed them.
“The Scooby meeting isn’t until later,” Anya pointed out. “Do you even know what the demon looks like? Xander didn’t really give a description.”
“I’m looking up something else,” Tara muttered, moving to the next shelf.
“Maybe I can help?” Anya offered, continuing on at Tara’s questioning glance. “I mean, I do own the shop, and being a one-thousand year old ex-vengeance demon, I do have quite a bit of mystical knowledge.”
“You had a Source, right?” Tara asked finally, her face pulled into a frown. Maybe Anya would be able to help with this, though she was reluctant to involve any of the other Scoobies until she had found out more. Something was nagging at her, in the back of her mind, but the pieces weren’t quite falling into place.
“A source?” Anya asked, a confused expression on her face. Then, her features cleared. “Oh, a Source! Big ‘S’. Right. Yes, I had a mystical source that held all of my powers and the very essence of my demon-ness,” she confirmed matter-of-factly.
“I’m doing some research on Sources,” Tara said.
“What for?” Anya inquired, moving to a set of shelves across the shop.
“I-it’s for Dawn. I’m teaching her some W-Wicca,” Tara said, the half-truth making her decidedly nervous. But how could she explain this weird feeling of foreboding ever since the question had entered her mind? How could she explain the fear that had crawled up her spine when she had begun to wonder about Willow’s source.
“Well, then you’ll want the nature stuff,” Anya said, pulling a few thin volumes from the shelf.
“Actually, I want to see all of it,” Tara said firmly.
“All of it?” Anya asked. “Tara, there are some very dark and dangerous sources,” Anya admonished. “I certainly wouldn’t mess with them, now that I am completely human and a productive member of society.”
“Yes, I know,” Tara said quickly. “I-I just w-want to make sure that Dawn understands all the dangers, so she can be careful.”
Anya looked skeptical, but held her peace for once, and Tara was irrationally grateful she didn’t have to explain further.
“All right, so what are we looking for, exactly? There’s Demons, Internal Power, Magical Talismans and the like, the Hellmouth itself …” Anya said questioningly.
“All of it,” Tara repeated, a determined look crossing her features. She had to know – she had to fully understand exactly what Willow had done while she had been trapped inside her own mind. There was a sense of urgency about the whole thing that disturbed her, like something dark and dangerous was about to happen. But the only thing dark and dangerous seemed to be Willow herself, when she had taken on Glory with her magicks.
But she wasn’t afraid of Willow, was she?
Anya continued pulling books off the shelves, piling them high in her arms, too busy to notice the worried frown on Tara’s face.
No, not afraid of Willow. Willow wouldn’t ever hurt any of the Scoobies – well, not on purpose. She showed bad judgement at times, but she wasn’t evil or even mean, really. She was just … Tara really wasn’t sure what, but something inside her told her she had to find out.
“Okay. These books are either completely about Sources, or have sections devoted to them,” Anya said, piling the books onto the table.
Tara looked at the stack of books with wide eyes.
“I told you there were lots of them,” Anya said, her voice slightly scolding, as if admonishing Tara for not taking her words seriously.
“Yes, yes you did,” Tara agreed ruefully, sitting herself down and pulling the book on top of the stack towards her. She opened it up and began to read.
After several hours, she had skimmed through most of the books, but her eyes ache, the words swam before her eyes, and she had a massive crick in her neck. All she really wanted to do was to have Willow there to rub the pain away. Of course, if Willow were there, she wouldn’t have to do this. She could just ask her.
Could she? Something about the idea seemed wrong, now that she really thought about it. No, confronting Willow was a bad idea. She wasn’t sure what she was dealing with, and all the information she had just found worried her greatly. She had several books set aside and bookmarked, so she could read them thoroughly later, but right now she was just gathering, and even that little bit of knowledge she had gained had been enough to make her stomach turn.
Dark Sources were insidious things. They could not be asked without demanding a great price, and they could not be commanded except by those of exceptional power. Even then, they often lent their aid without needing to, letting the spellcaster believe they had powers greater than they actually possessed.
But why was she so fascinated with this topic? Was she looking for an excuse to blame someone or something other than Willow for her behavior?
Probably. Tara let out a mirthless laugh, letting her head drop down onto the book open before her. The truth was, she wanted to forgive Willow. She wanted this whole thing to be some Big Bad that the Scoobies could go beat up, so that Willow would be back at her side where she belonged.
Her reading told her this was a false hope, though. In stark black and white – and sometimes a disturbing rust on aging yellow – the words had been there. A Source didn’t take over a spellcaster; it could only push the spellcaster into positions and situations where their own pride and folly would tear them down. No matter how she looked at it, she couldn’t deny that Willow’s choices were her own, and it was those choices that had driven her away.
Still, what if Willow were being manipulated by something? What if she was in danger? What if Willow, herself, were a danger? These books had story after story detailing the folly of dealing with these Dark Sources: stories in which the spellcaster were either destroyed in some blazing gory end, or had unwittingly unleashed unspeakable horrors into the world.
It would give any sane person nightmares, and Tara was not only sane, but deeply and madly in love with someone who might be within the grip of one of these Sources.
Did Willow know? Had she invited something in, then been unable to shut the door? Or had she just figured that these dark spells were just spells that people were afraid to use? That the spells in and of themselves were harmless, and it was how and why they were cast that counted?
“You’re looking for Willow’s Source, aren’t you?” Anya asked quietly from behind Tara, causing her to sit up abruptly.
“W-why do you ask?”
“Because you were stuttering when you came in, you’re as white as a sheet, and you look like your puppy died,” Anya said quickly. “I notice these things. You can’t be a vengeance demon for a millenium without learning how to notice these things.”
“It’s scary reading,” Tara said defensively.
“And,” Anya went on, ignoring Tara’s feeble attempt to sidetrack her, “it’s no secret that Willow’s gone all loopy on the magick. Casting spells on her friends, tapping into Dark Magicks – she’s probably standing on a street corner right now with a cardboard sign that says ‘will work for spell ingredients.’” Anya gave an emphatic nod, pleased with her powers of deduction. “Besides, you were stuttering, and you don’t do that anymore unless something is really wrong,” Anya pointed out.
“A street corner?” Tara asked, worry coloring her tone.
“Oh, I doubt it’s really that far, yet,” Anya reassured her earnestly. “But that’s where she’s headed, and where she’ll end up if she doesn’t stop. I’ve seen it happen. Good, responsible people, get a little taste of power, and then off they go, bending reality to their will, whether it’s a good idea or not.”
“She wouldn’t –“
“Wouldn’t what? Use magick to change things to suit her?”
“So you think she’s being held by a Dark Source?” Tara asked quietly, confirming Anya’s suspicions about why, exactly, Tara had come into The Magic Box today.
“I don’t know, exactly,” Anya hedged. “She certainly could be. Her judgement isn’t always great, but it’s usually not >this< bad, right?”
“But a Dark Source wouldn’t be able to control her actions, right?” Tara asked.
“No, it wouldn’t. But it would open up new options when she was faced with different choices, like if she was deciding between wearing the jeans or slacks, it would put a pair of black leather pants in her closet.”
Tara blinked slowly. What did Willow wearing black leather pants have to do with anything? Come to think of it, Willow >was< dressing differently. Tara shook her head. There was no way Anya meant that literally.
“You didn’t mean that literally, right?”
“Of course not. It’s just a metaphorical example. Willow would never have a pair of black leather pants in her closet, not on her own, but if they were already there, she might choose to wear them. You see?”
“Okay, like, she wouldn’t ever seek out the power and knowledge to cast a big forget spell on everyone, but if they were already there, she’d use it. Right?”
“Exactly. So if Willow would just stop wearing the leather pants that mysteriously appeared in her closet, she’d be fine.”
Tara sighed. It still came down to Willow and Willow’s choices. No matter the source of the black leather pants, Willow chose to wear them.
Sheer lack of sleep and a brain that felt like it was swimming in cheese caught up with Tara, and she smirked, then giggled. Willow. Black leather pants.
“What’s so funny?” Anya asked, a suspicious look on her face.
A blush crept across Tara’s features as she giggled harder.
“Are you laughing at me? Do I have something on my face?”
Tara just kept laughing while Anya ran off to check.
by Web Warlock » Sat Dec 01, 2001 8:47 pm
Now the image of Willow in black leather pants. Thanks!
Warlock
------------------
Web Warlock
web.warlock@home.com webwarlock@planetadnd.com
Author, the Netbooks of Witches and Warlocks
The Other Side: http://www.xtreme-gaming.com/~theotherside/
The DnD Community Council: http://www.dndcommunitycouncil.org/nbownw
--
"It could be witches, Some evil witches.
Which is ridiculous, 'Cause witches, they were persecuted Wicca good and love the earth
And women power and I'll be over here."
by Sassette » Sat Dec 01, 2001 9:18 pm
As for the leather pants...*G* That was a happy visual. I needed one. I think Tara did, too.
-Sass
BTW...I am tickled you all like the story! *G* I am interested in finding out where the heck I am going with it.
by TrueXena » Sat Dec 01, 2001 10:18 pm
Lovin' the story Sass.
------------------
Later dayz,
TrueXena
"I'm so evil, and skanky...and I think I'm kinda gay."
by xita » Sun Dec 02, 2001 2:38 am
by emily 'first' » Sun Dec 02, 2001 5:52 am
------------------
vive,valeque.
by Kajun » Sun Dec 02, 2001 1:13 pm
by Epicurus » Sun Dec 02, 2001 5:40 pm
What a cute and yet sadly pathetic mental image this conjured up...
"she’s probably standing on a street corner right now with a cardboard sign that says ‘will work for spell ingredients.’"
by Sassette » Fri Dec 07, 2001 12:42 am
Title: Answering Darkness Part 15 – Beginnings
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to pink_overalls@yahoo.com
Summary: Willow wanders around Sunnydale
Spoiler Warning: Up to and including “Tabula Rasa” in Season 6.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I’m just borrowing them because Season 6 angst is running high, and I want my happy ending now, dammit! So I’m writing it … but it’ll be awhile until I get to that part, so bear with me (or “bare” with me if you’re naughty).
Rating: PG-13.
Notes: For the purpose of this story, all events of Tabula Rasa took place exactly as shown in the series; however, no subsequent episodes will affect this piece. We’re splitting from canon here, because this seems the fastest way to get a reconciliation and because I feel this is one of the possible outcomes when taking the “addiction” metaphor into account. So, I should shut the heck up now, and just get to the story, right? Right.
Answering Darkness Part 15
Beginnings
By Sassette
The sun set, the dying light filtering through the clouds, leaving the world bathed equally in light and shadow. Willow stared listlessly. Tomorrow. She’d start tomorrow.
She hadn’t meant to continue casting; she had just meant to take a walk so she could get out of the house. But things had happened – little things. Inconsequential things. The door to a book shop had been stubborn, she found she had left her money at home when she had tried to buy lunch. There were those bullies picking on the younger boy. She hadn’t done anything mean to them – she’d only scared them a little, and she doubted they’d be so quick to pick on smaller people again.
Willow sniffed, her eyes filling with moisture as she stared into the light, wishing it would stay. The wooden slats in the bench dug into her body, cold and hard as she sat in the park, staring out over the water.
She turned her head, her eyes finding the bridge where Tara had sung to her, just a few days before. Was that all it was? Just days? It seemed so much longer, like years or decades. Eons. Empires rose and fall, whole species succumbed to extinction and still Tara was not at her side.
Taking a deep shuddering breath, Willow looked back to the water. Water was so simple, really. Easy. Elegant. Hydrogen and oxygen combined to make something so very pretty and sparkly and necessary. Then again, oxygen was always necessary. The hydrogen was just extra.
Chemistry was so easy. Different elements interacted in specific ways. Predictable. Observable. She had made magick like that, in her mind. A new science, unexplored and waiting for the right person to come along and unravel its mysteries, bringing sense and order to its mystic obscurity.
Tara had never liked that. It was a fundamental difference in the way they viewed the world, and Willow couldn’t help but wonder which of them was right. So many wonderful vital things had come from science, so how could applying scientific method to magick be any different? With each new discovery, hadn’t she done some good? Hadn’t she made life better and easier for everyone?
“God, I am a nerd,” Willow muttered, leaning forward, her elbows resting on her knees. She brought her hands up to rub her face vigorously, then looked up, sighing heavily. A cool wind blew across her from over the water, ruffling her hair and making her shiver.
A scream rent the stillness of the night, and Willow was up and running before the sound had registered. The Scooby Reflex, they had jokingly called it. Most people ran away from the sound of trouble, especially in Sunnydale, but not the Scoobies.
The running felt good, somehow. The generally ickiness of the day and her disgust with herself over her inability to stop using magick drained out of her as she sprinted across the dewy grass toward an area sprinkled with trees.
The shadows seemed deeper there, but Willow plunged in headlong, pulling up short as another scream assaulted her ears. A young woman was sprawled on the ground, a gash on her arm bleeding unhindered. Standing over her was the demon, it’s green and black mottled skin seeming to pull in the light.
Its head, long and misshapen turned towards her, its yellow eyes looking her up and down.
“Hey, Mr. Ugly Guy,” Willow said weakly, giving a little wave as the woman scrambled away from the demon, scuttling backwards until she was a good ways away before standing and running, clutching her arm.
A low guttural noise issued forth from the creatures throat, its awkward jaw moving.
“That’s a whole lot of sharp teethy badness,” Willow said slowly, backing away. “Can you even close your mouth all the way?”
“Cast or die.”
“What?” Willow asked, jumping at the sound of the voice, deep and rumbling. In answer, the shadows moved, rushing forward and into her, filling her eyes with darkness.
“Cast or die,” came the voice again, as the demon took a step towards her.
The rush of power that came with the darkness thrilled her. She had been playing child’s games all day, she realized. Nothing compared to the energy generated by darkness. Nothing compared to this power that had just come to her, without being called, begging her to release it – and she wanted to, because it felt so very good.
Standing tall and strong, Willow glared at the demon, the familiar tingling rising in her eyes and hands. Palms facing forward, she rose an inch, then two into the air. With a shout, she released the darkness into the demon, and it stopped, its head flopping back on its tall slender neck as it howled.
Willow floated forward, unleashing the power upon the demon as its body jerked and writhed in the shadows. It fell forward onto its knees, still screaming into the night when Willow collapsed, the last of the harnessed power draining out of her.
A strange euphoria washed over Willow, and she was unaware of the bumps and bruises she received falling as the demon shifted towards her, leaning over her, its burning breath washing over her face.
“What are you?” Willow whispered, raising her hand and feeling the creatures skin, running her fingertips on its cheek. “Show me,” she commanded, a flare of energy, blinding white, flashing between them.
Its eyes widened as it let out a demony gasp. Willow giggled ridiculously, assuming she was about to meet her end when she looked into its eyes. The yellow light there spread and grew, enveloping her, and then she was falling again – falling into the demon’s eyes.
She stood on a hill, within a circle of stones within a circle of trees. A village lay below, the simple church burning. Power surged within her, but different and strange. Strong, but peaceful, it felt nothing like the raw edginess she was used to. Her hands raised into the air, the wide sleeves of her white linen robes feeling rough against her skin as they fell to pool at her shoulders.
A stream of words left her mouth, but she did not know them, and a great wind rose, blowing her wild red hair all around her. Willow felt somehow apart from the proceedings, her mind telling her the hair was the wrong color, even as she continued speaking. It was darker, more auburn than her own hair, and a tangled mass of curls. She tried to capture a few strands in her fingertips to examine more closely, but her body refused to obey her commands.
A great thunder rose, lightning striking all around, and the earth shook. She could hear the cries of villagers from below as she somehow managed to remain upright, still chanting in a strange lyrical language, the odd accent tickling her ears.
Several figures ran up the hill, heading towards her, and her words came faster, more urgent. A rift in the earth tore open, and she fell to her knees, looking into the abyss through a strange shimmering yellow energy.
A face stared back, a shadowy figure standing there.
The man spoke, his words hanging heavy in the air. Willow felt her resolve weaken as the power within her began to dwindle. The man spoke again, urging her to do… something, and she redoubled her efforts, continuing her chant.
A misshapen figure arrived at the circle, crashing into the seemingly empty space between the stones in a blaze of white light, knocking it back. It regained its feet as a second figure arrived.
The second figure fought the other, trying to run back down the hill as it held on. In a flash of lightning, Willow recognized them. The demon she had fought stepped forward, its glistening claws raking across Angel’s face.
Angel?
What was she doing? Why was she here?
The man spoke again, his hands raising and pushing at the energy, before screaming and taking his fists to it.
Willow’s chant rose, her raw throat straining to form the words. Angel broke away from his tormentors, fleeing back down to the village as the demon turned back to the circle, and stalking around it, snarling and growling.
Desperation filled her, and the shimmering rift began to close. The demon and the man howled together, as Willow looked into the opening. Her reflection in the yellow energy superimposed itself over the face of the man as he was pulled back, and the last thing she saw was a pair of strangely familiar blue eyes before all went dark.
With a gasp, Willow came back to herself, the clammy feel of sweat all over her body. The demon over her snarled and raised its hand.
“Go away,” Willow said crossly, completely disoriented. She pushed the demon with all her might, and it rose up, then turned and ran.
Shaking, Willow looked around, rolling over with great effort and getting onto her hands and knees. “That was … that was… what >was< that?” she mumbled. “Demony weirdness,” she decided. She tried to stand, and her head swam, knocking her heavily back. “Okay, bad idea,” she told herself softly. “I am so not loving this.”
She raised a trembling hand to rub her face, inadvertently smearing the blood from her nose there. Fear rose up and threatened to choke her as she broke into sobs. Near-death was a pretty common experience for a Scooby, but this was different. Something was different about all of this, and she didn’t just mean the vision or projection or whatever it was.
The demon had obeyed her. Since when did demons obey her? Her pragmatic side told her it was certainly useful – she could just tell demons to hold still while Buffy staked them – but the rest of her cowered away from the knowledge. What had she done? Had she unleashed a new demon into Sunnydale?
“I’m going crazy,” Willow sobbed, rolling onto her side and pulling her knees up to her chest. Nothing she had ever read or experienced had prepared her for the strange vision she had seen. Had she been summoning another demon? Had Angel been trying to stop her? “What’s happening to me?”
A strange numbness settled over her, as her labored breathing eased. Her sobs subsided, and on rubbery legs, she gained her feet, swaying unsteadily. On uncertain footing, she began walking, her thoughts far away from paying attention to where she was heading.
Images – memories – assaulted her. Tara, telling her she was using too much magick. Xander stopping her from casting a magick de-lusting. Giles’ warning that if she channeled powerful magicks, she might not be able to close the door again. Tara again, looking so sad and lost, her aching voice telling her she didn’t think it was going to work. Tara leaving.
Willow hurt all over, inside and out, as she staggered through the night. She felt weak and unsure, like she was in high school again, fighting monsters with nothing but her brain.
Mostly, she felt scared. Living on the Hellmouth – being a Scooby – had desensitized her to most of the horrors of the world. She couldn’t really remember the last time she had been this frightened for herself – frightened for others, yes, but not herself. She had been so confident for so long, and now that confidence was shattered by her inability to defeat a demon with her most powerful magicks.
“But wait, there’s more!” she said out loud, letting out a humorless laugh. She couldn’t defeat the magick, either. It called to her, and she had answered, letting it take over. And then, the vision and subsequent wackiness had shaken her deeply. What did she think she was doing?
She turned a corner, realizing she was back on the streets of Sunnydale, and it was night. Her legs felt like lead, her head ached, her nose was dripping blood, and she felt battered and bruised all over.
She really might as well just tattoo “Dinner” to her forehead and run through the graveyard, she thought ruefully, trying to think about something else – anything else – but the pain as she struggled to continue putting one foot in front of the other.
She needed help. She was supposed to be the strong one, the capable one, the reliable one, the smart one – but she needed help.
“I can’t do this alone,” she whispered brokenly. She shook her head, a part of her marveling at how fragmented she felt. Even at her nerdy high school worst, her thoughts had always felt clear, even though they tended to issue forth in an incoherent babble; they had always made sense in her head. Her mind felt foggy and unsure, and she wasn’t used to that.
Finally, The Magic Box loomed before her, and she stopped, the street separating her from what she knew would be a Scooby meeting by now. The lights were clearly on, though the shop would be closed at this hour. She paused in the shadows across the street, staring with watery eyes.
How could she walk in there like this? Dirty, bruised, bloody, her clothing torn – how could she face her friends? It was all her fault, and she knew it. They knew it. She knew they knew it. They knew that she knew that they knew it.
Willow shook her head before her brain continued along that path. Would Tara be in there? Would Dawn? How could she just walk in? She had pulled Buffy out of Heaven, made Tara leave her, left dangerous magic book lying out around Dawn, and now there was a demon running around that did what she told it to do.
But how could she not walk in?
With faltering steps, she crossed the street, stumbling and staggering the whole way. Her hand came to rest on the smooth wood of the door, trailing down to grope for the knob. A lump rose up in her throat as the knob turned and she pushed the door open, the bell sounding unnaturally loud.
She stepped in, and saw everyone there, staring at her.
“I need help,” she croaked out, before the world swam before her eyes, then went dark.
by Shaniezak » Fri Dec 07, 2001 3:22 am
You do know I love you, right?
And not just for that black leather pants image, either . . .
by Sassette » Fri Dec 07, 2001 11:58 am
And yes, Shanie, I know you love me - you tell me so all the time *G* But feel free to continue heaping adoration and praise upon me.
Though I'm really curious to see if anyone's figured out what's going on yet ... anyone wanna take a wild stab? Or you can email me at pink_overalls@yahoo.com ... I'm wondering if everything's as confusing as it's supposed to be right now *G*
-Sass
by Web Warlock » Fri Dec 07, 2001 1:01 pm
Great job Sass. Yes the leather pants are sticking with me as well!
Warlock.
------------------
Web Warlock
web.warlock@attbi.com webwarlock@planetadnd.com
Author, the Netbooks of Witches and Warlocks
The Other Side: http://www.xtreme-gaming.com/~theotherside/
The DnD Community Council: http://www.dndcommunitycouncil.org/nbownw
--
"If that is all the Gods can do then I'm over to the Dark Side so fast!" - Tom Servo, MST3k
by emily 'first' » Sat Dec 08, 2001 4:45 am
------------------
vive,valeque.
by Sassette » Tue Dec 11, 2001 12:08 am
Answering Darkness Part 16
Meetings
By Sassette
Tara shivered and slammed her book shut. This Dark Source thing just got more and more disturbing. The stories and examples were eerily detailed and graphic in their description, which she supposed was a good thing, because it would discourage people from using a Dark Source - but still. Yuck.
Somehow, it helped that Anya was so offhand and matter-of-fact about the whole thing. She knew it came from a one-thousand year stint as a vengeance demon where she herself had committed horrible acts, but she always saw Anya as just a really quirky human, and so her ease of acceptance was almost … comforting.
"It says here that most witches burned in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were dabbling with Dark Sources," Tara pointed out. The words had sent a chill up her spine, which she attributed to Willow's story about almost being burned at the stake before Tara had come to Sunnydale.
"Oh, yes," Anya said, looking up from her own book. "Most, true - but not all. Like this one time, I was summoned up by a perfectly normal Wiccan who was being burned at the stake. She certainly wasn't into any dark magicks at all … seemed to be afraid of them, in fact. But her husband had turned her in, so there I was, and I eviscerated him," she related calmly.
Tara looked dubious. "A white witch called up a Vengeance Demon and had her husband eviscerated?"
"Oh, well, I sort of improvised on the evisceration part. And she didn't call me. I just happened to see the betrayal, so I showed up, and she wished that her husband wouldn't hurt her daughter anymore. I came up with the evisceration all by myself," she explained, her voice strangely proud.
A strange buzzing went off in Tara's head, as if a swarm of bees had flown in her ears and were making honey where her brain should be. Only not in a painful way. More in a loud, but ticklish kind of way.
She shook her head to clear it, then looked up at Anya.
"H-her daughter?" she asked slowly.
Xander walked into the door of The Magic Box, smirking at the name as he did every time he entered. Didn't people think of these things before they went around naming stores and putting up big signs?
Tara and Anya, he saw, were sitting at the table, piles of books scattered around.
"Hey, getting a jump on the Scooby meeting?" he asked cheerfully, pulling up a seat next to Anya and dropping a light kiss on her cheek.
"Xander! We were just researching -" Anya began, only to be interrupted.
"I was doing some research for the Wicca lessons I'm giving Dawn," Tara broke in. "Anya was helping." She wasn't sure why, but she didn't really feel comfortable telling everyone she had been researching Willow's source. It almost felt like she was betraying Willow by even looking into it, and she had scared herself senseless with the information she'd found. No reason to bring the rest of the Scoobies into it.
"Well, that was very nice of you, Anya," Xander said, rewarding her with a bright smile. Anya beamed back.
"Yes, I'm very nice and helpful. Even though Tara isn't giving me any money, I helped anyway, because she's our friend."
"And thank you, Anya," Tara said, smiling at the ex-demon. Her take on social niceties was so … interesting. "I really appreciate all your help."
"You're welcome. That's what friends are for." Anya stood up, checking the time, and moved over to the door, putting up the 'Closed' sign. Nodding in satisfaction at another money-filled day, she went behind the counter to close up the till and do the paperwork. The till opened, and she breathed deeply, letting the scent of the money wash over her.
"So, no one else here yet?" Xander asked, picking up a book at random and idly flipping through it.
"No, I was here early because of this research I wanted to do," Tara explained. She stood, gathering up the books she had determined didn't really hold anything she didn't already know and started placing them back on the shelves. "So, do we know anything about this demon thing?"
"Just that it's big, it's ugly, and it seemed to like magic," Xander said. "I guess I'll start pulling up the books on our usual suspects," he offered, moving to the back room where all their demon and monster lore was kept in one handy location.
The bell over the door rang again, and Buffy entered, a small smile on her face as she listened to Dawn.
"… and then she told me all about sources and stuff. It was great!" Dawn enthused, grinning broadly.
"Just as long as you didn't overdo it," Buffy said, squeezing Dawn's arm affectionately. "Hey guys," she greeted, plopping down into a chair at the 'Research Table'.
"Tara! Buffy said I get to help with research!" Dawn blurted out, scampering over to Tara and giving her a big hug. Tara smiled broadly, sharing a look with Buffy over Dawn's shoulder. Buffy just shrugged and nodded.
"So, what do we have?" Buffy asked, poking at the pile of books in front of her.
"Oh, that's some other stuff I was doing," Tara said, moving back to the table and moving the books she still had to go through to a different table. Xander came back in, a stack of books in his arms.
"Hey, Buff," he greeted. "Dawn."
"I think Willow was right. I made just as much money as I should have, but still opened the store later, saving money on labor and utilities," Anya cheerfully informed them, closing the till with a loud ching.
An uncomfortable silence fell as everyone shifted nervously and avoided looking at Tara. Tara's grin faltered, but she redoubled, forcing the happy expression to stay on her face.
"It's okay," she said quickly. "W-when did you talk to Willow?" she asked, looking at Anya and wondering why she hadn't mentioned this earlier that day.
"Oh, this morning. Xander asked me to stop by and see how she was, and to tell her about the Scooby meeting," Anya said. "She seemed a little pale and shaky, but she said she'd be here."
"Maybe I should go," Tara said, already rising and gathering up the books she had found that day into her arms. "Oh, umm… can I borrow these?" she asked belatedly, a sheepish look on her face.
"Oh, sure, you go right ahead," Anya said. Normally, letting merchandise leave the shop without a monetary transaction of some kind was something she hated and considered theft in all cases, but something about the day of researching with Tara had given her a sense of camaraderie she didn't normally have with the Scoobies. Maybe it was because she, like Anya herself, had started out as just a Scooby girlfriend. Maybe it was because Anya was an ex-demon, and Tara was an ex-thought-she-was-a-demon. Or maybe it was just that Tara had been so interested in her unique insight on the matter. Anya appreciated being appreciated.
"But - you can't leave," Dawn protested, standing up and wrapping her hands around Tara's arm, tugging gently. "There's a big demon out there, and we don't know what it is, or what it wants, and maybe it likes witches, so it would be really dangerous for you to walk around by yourself."
"Good God, it's Willow Junior," Xander muttered under his breath. He wondered if all really smart girls babbled like that, or if it was a learned behavior.
"Actually, Dawn has a point," Buffy said, standing up and leveling a no-nonsense stare at Tara. "I'd feel better if we all just … stayed here and did the research thing, then went home in groups."
"But what about Willow? Do you really think it's dangerous?" Tara asked suddenly. "Maybe we should - "
"I'm sure she's on her way here. Just give her ten minutes or so, and then we'll go look for her," Xander said.
"Any news on our new Big Ugly?" Spike asked, sauntering into the room.
"Don't you ever knock?" Xander asked, jumping in his chair as Spike came into the store from the back rooms.
"Well, aren't we the jumpy little lad?" Spike taunted around his smirk. "Afraid the big demon would just pick the lock on the back door and not bust it in?"
"You picked my lock?" Anya asked incredulously. "When else have you picked my lock? Have you been taking things?" Anya advanced on the vampire, mayhem in her eyes.
"Calm down, calm down," Spike said, holding his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. "I was just keeping the old skills from rusting. Haven't nicked a bloody thing."
Tara glanced at the clock. Only a few minutes had gone by, but a sense of something wrong was crawling up her neck, periodically stopping to do a little tap dance on her spine. It was disturbing. "Maybe - maybe we should go check on Willow," Tara said, moving to the door, her fingers finding the doll's eye crystal sitting in her pocket.
Buffy stood, moving after Tara. If Tara felt something was wrong, Buffy would believe her, but she didn't want the witch wandering off alone, and she'd rather be armed if they were going out. "Hold on, Tara," Buffy said, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. Tara lost her balance, throwing her hands out to stop her fall, the crystal skittering across the floor.
Anya picked it up as Dawn came up beside her. Both of their eyes widened. Anya lifted the crystal to her face, peering closer. It looked oddly familiar, like …
She stopped, looking around at the room, her eyes falling on Tara. Tara MaClay. Pieces fell into place, and with a shaky hand, she handed the crystal to Dawn.
"You okay?" Buffy asked, helping a red-faced Tara to her feet. "Just let me grab some weapons," she said, moving to the back room as Anya grabbed Xander, pulling him back behind the counter.
"Here. You dropped this," Dawn said quietly, her hand unsteady as she returned the crystal to Tara.
"What's going on, Anya?" Xander asked, looking closely and seeing a stunned look on her face.
"Keep it down!" Anya said, smacking Xander in the shoulder.
"Ow!" he said, rubbing his arm and scowling. "Would you tell me what's going on?" he asked in a hushed tone.
"I eviscerated Tara's great-great-great-great-and maybe a few more 'greats' grandfather," Anya hissed, a sick look on her face. "Is this that guilt thing you're always talking about?"
"You what?" Xander asked loudly. Anya looked around, seeing Dawn and Tara weren't paying attention, and that Spike was peeking into the back room, presumably watching Buffy.
"That crystal. I've seen it before. I mean, you know I've seen it before, because Willow's worn it, and Dawn used it for that spell, but I mean I've seen it Before before," Anya went on, clearly agitated.
"Slow down, Anya," Xander said soothingly, grasping her arms gently and ducking down a little to meet her eyes. "Was that English, because I didn't really catch most of it."
"I saw it before I was human," Anya ground out. "It didn't even register. I mean, I've eviscerated so many people, it's not like I'm thinking about each one every second of the day. I certainly can't be expected to remember every piece of jewelry I've ever run across, right?" she went on, pausing for breath.
"Okay, when did you see it?" Xander asked slowly.
"I saw it about a hundred and fifty years ago? Two hundred? Something like that. I probably wouldn't have even made the connection, except Tara and I were talking about witch burnings. We were talking about that specific witch burning, in fact, so it was on my mind. Oh, God," Anya said slowly, her mouth dropping open. "Tara's great-something-grandmother got burned at the stake."
"What?" Xander asked, shaking his head. Sometimes he felt the difference between their ages more than others. This was one of those Big Difference times.
"When I was a vengeance demon, I caught wind of this guy who turned his wife in for witchcraft. She was strictly a goody-goody white magick kind of gal, but she got burned at the stake. I showed up during the burning, and she asked me to make sure her husband couldn't hurt her daughter anymore, so I eviscerated him. But I saw the daughter there, and she was wearing that crystal," Anya explained in a rush.
"Well, maybe it was a different crystal?" Xander offered. "I mean, there has to be more than one crystal like that, right?"
"No, it has to be the one. The girl's name was MaClay. Fionna MaClay," Anya said. "I never made the connection. I never knew," she went on in a whisper.
Xander pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin. "Hey, it'll be okay," he said, unsure as to exactly what to say to this revelation.
"I mean, how do you tell someone you eviscerated a member of her family, and saw one of them burning? Do they make a Hallmark card for this?" Anya wondered aloud, cuddling into Xander. "Tara and I bonded today over magick stuff," she went on.
"You and Tara did spells?" Xander asked, pulling back and looking at Anya as if he'd never seen her before.
Anya smacked Xander in the arm again, getting a curious satisfaction out of the startled yelp he let out. "I said we bonded over magick, not that we bonded in a prison way."
"Do you think that's where that whole wacky 'You're A Demon' thing started in her family?" Xander asked, trying to wrap his mind around the idea. His future wife actually had been a demon, but he couldn't imagine ever letting anyone hurt her.
"It's possible," Anya said with a sigh. "Maybe her family really thought that. Maybe they honestly believed it. Do you think I should tell her?"
"I don't know," Xander said slowly. "It's not exactly the kind of thing you can just - blurt out." Xander glanced over, seeing Tara, Dawn and Spike sitting at the table, talking quietly and waiting for Buffy. Tara's hands kept moving, and she was kind of fidgety in her seat. "Come on. We'll talk about it more, later," Xander said, tugging on Anya's hand and pulling her over to join the rest of the Scoobies.
Buffy entered the room, a big bag of weapons hanging from her shoulder.
"Gee, Buffy. Do you think you have enough sharp pointy things?" Dawn asked.
"We don't know what we're dealing with, so I'm being prepared girl," Buffy said firmly.
The bell sounded and the door flew open. The Scoobies stopped and looked, to see Willow stumble in the door, her clothes disheveled. Her face was pale and streaked with dirt.
"I need help," she croaked out, before falling heavily to the floor.
by Dumbsaint » Tue Dec 11, 2001 9:06 am
Funny funny.
And dear, sweet Tara. *sighs* You've got all of the character voices down wonderfully.
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Shiver me timberless.
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