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Chapter Eleven
She thought she heard familiar voices. She stretched and waited. Then she caught the scents and Miss Kitty bolted from her sunny spot on Tara’s bed just as the door opened. She hurried to Willow and began to complain bitterly about her leaving while marking the redhead as hers. She stopped yowling and just purred when Willow picked her up and stroked her. When the redhead got too close to the tummy fur Miss Kitty grabbed her hand and sniffed it. There was no foreign cat smell. Just to be sure she started to wash the hand. She kept washing and purring as Willow’s other hand stroked behind her ears.
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Giles and Buffy arrived at the trio of patrol cars just a few minutes later. Anya was being questioned by two officers while a man was being loaded into an ambulance. As they got closer Buffy could hear the conversation.
“So you were in fear of your life?” one cop asked.
“It was terrifying!” Anya said appearing on the verge of tears. “First there was that horrible air raid siren thing and then the bullhorns were telling us to evacuate. Then he was there and he was bigger than I was and he demanded free merchandise and then, and then...I guess I just...panicked”
“Did he say who he was?” the other officer asked.
“He said he was some sort of demon,” Anya said with a shiver.
“Demon, huh?” the cops said almost as one and looked at each other with a significant glance.
“I think I’ve seen him before,” Anya said quickly. “But you see so many dangerously insane men in rumpled clothes.”
“Right,” the older cop nodded. “Now miss, I’m going to give you a warning and we’ll be taking the bat as evidence.”
“I’ll be defenseless!” Anya protested.
“Doubt it,” muttered the younger officer.
“What was that?” Anya barked as she whirled on him.
“We have to go, miss,” the policeman said hurriedly.
Buffy and Giles waited until the police were on their way to their car and Anya had started away with a grim expression on her face before they stepped out of the small crowd. Anya’s glare lessened when she saw them.
“Are you all right?” Buffy asked.
“I think I may have strained a muscle with that last swing,” Anya complained.
“Who was that being carried off to hospital?” Giles inquired.
“D’Hoffryn,” Anya muttered. “He had the nerve to show up today and demand a bunch of stuff so he could get hold of the Vengeance Demons who didn’t screw up.”
“Could you be in danger?” Buffy wondered worriedly.
“I don’t think they’ll take him back,” Anya said with a vicious smile. “Halfrek was complaining a century ago about how badly he ran things and she wasn’t the only one.”
“Did he say anything?” Giles asked.
“He wanted a quartz crystal, some of our Omani frankincense, and the work room,” Anya said frowning with thought. “Then he said he would put me on probation after he got back. After that he said ‘What are you doing?’, ‘Ow, stop it!’, ‘My arm! My arm!’, and finally he said, or rather yelled ‘Not the face! Not the face!’. After that he just screamed a bit. Then the cops took away my bat. Bastards.”
“What were they thinking? Buffy asked sympathetically.
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Andrew Wells stormed out of the city jail. Rage filled his narrow frame. His friend, mentor, and leader was dead in a parking lot and the world didn’t give a damn. There was no doubt the Slayer or her witches were behind Warren’s death, a death that hurt almost as much as the way his lawyer had presented him in court. A fool would have been the most complimentary term for the person the lawyer presented to the judge. An easily led idiot over his head and not understanding the implications was more accurate. The patronizing tone of the judge filled Andrew’s mind as he hurried down the street.
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Tara was toweling her hair dry while Willow headed for the showers. Tara had no doubt the redhead would drain the last of the hot water in the dorm before she returned. The knock at the door was a surprise. Tara let a bit of her power drift beyond the door to see who was knocking. She frowned at the familiar essence and felt her nerves kick in as she got up.
“Hi Xander,” she said with what she hoped was a cheerful tone.
“Hey,” Xander said looking at her robe. “Bad time?”
“No, not really,” Tara said stepping away from the door. “Willow is in the shower though.”
“I’m just checking up and seeing if there’s anything you need,” Xander explained. “As ordered by Giles. He said the lady salamander was kind of preoccupied when she got back.”
“We’re okay,” Tara sighed. “Better than I’d hoped.”
“What about the whole college classes thing?” Xander asked looking at a pile of textbooks.
“We’re in seminar classes for the most part now,” Tara replied. “We both need to get to get in a couple of papers but they’re mostly done.”
“Cool,” Xander said nodding.
“What else is bothering you?” Tara asked nervously.
Xander looked away. Then he shrugged and mostly collapsed into a chair and looked at the floor like it was the most fascinating thing in the world for a few moments. Then he looked up at Tara with a hint of tears in his eyes.
“Is it true?” he asked in a shaking voice.
“I’m sorry,” Tara said looking down quickly. “I-I s-s-shouldn’t have s-said those things.”
“Were they true?” Xander insisted weakly. “The visions...the rest of it?”
“The visions were true castings,” Tara said softly. Then she shook all over. “The rest of it was the black magic talking.”
“Was it true?” he asked more gently.
“The black magic put the worst light on it,” Tara started. “It’s not as bad as it seems.”
“But it’s true,” Xander finished. Tara looked down. The silence lengthened in the room. “I’m an alcoholic, aren’t I? Just like my dad.”
“No!” Tara said looking up quickly. “Willow’s told me things about your father, Xander. You’re not like him! You could never be him!”
“You know, I’ve wondered why my mother stayed with him,” Xander said with a sad smile. “I think you just told me.”
“H-How?”
“She still sees the old him,” Xander explained tiredly. “The one who could never do those things. The good guy who crawled into a bottle and drowned in Jim Beam.”
Tara reached out and held Xander’s hand. She gave him a small sad smile. “We’re here, Xander,” Tara said after a moment.
“I know that now,” Xander replied softly.
Tara stood up and pulled gently on Xander’s hands until he stood up as well. Then she hugged him hard. The door opened.
“Well, my timing hasn’t improved,” Willow said with a wry grin.
“Hey, knock next time!” Xander protested from the hug. “I could have been making a pass at your girlfriend!”
“Sure you could have, dear,” Willow said in her most theatrically condescending tone as she patted his arm.
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“What the Hell’s gotten into you?!?” Ira bellowed.
“You sound like your father!” Sheila snapped back.
“I am not that bigoted bastard!” Ira roared.
Sheila just looked at him for a long second. She seemed pale.
“Your hand,” she said softly.
Ira Rosenberg felt his world begin to slide as he looked at his hand like it was on someone else’s wrist. His hand was raised at his wife for disagreeing with him. Even his father had never done that. Ira’s hand fell to his side. He looked at Sheila with a slack jaw and frightened eyes. Hesitantly she reached out to him. Ira took her hand gently and began to cry. Sheila hesitated, not knowing what to do. Finally she took him into an awkward hug.
“She’s right,” Ira sobbed.
“What is it?” Sheila asked worriedly.
Ira shuffled over to the bulging briefcase that had been his companion for decades. With a listlessness that was new to him he opened it and took out a bundle of papers.
“Six conferences, two seminars, and half a dozen grad students’ efforts for eight pages of journal article,” Ira said flatly. “Copies of the journal will show up in colleges and universities around the world. On my way home I checked online. No one at my own college has ever checked out or requested any journal with my articles. I was so proud to be quoted in other articles but no one reads those either.”
“I don’t understand,” Sheila said with a frown. “Some of those early ones we worked on together were called ground breaking.”
“Broken ground is only useful if someone builds something or grows a new idea,” Ira shrugged. “We just took what was already accepted and ran it out to prove what everyone thought they knew.”
“I remember the study in ‘89 that predicted the Soviet Union would be moved to a more liberal economic pattern by 2050,” Sheila sighed. “I’ve been telling myself my chairing local committees were so I could raise Willow.”
“You were here more than I was,” Ira pointed out.
“For me at least,” Sheila said dryly.
“I was wondering what I’d been doing while Willow was growing up,” Ira sighed. “I kept coming up with important conferences. She was right. I’ve spent my career being correct, careful, and considering myself brighter than everyone else. Especially uneducated people who couldn’t be trusted to think exactly like I thought they should. I feel like a failure.”
“How long have you felt that way?” Sheila asked carefully.
“Since I heard my daughter was dead,” Ira said with a shudder. “I tried to remember her and I all I could recall was the night she told us she was gay. I had to pull out pictures of her from my wallet and even then she wasn’t quite real. When I got her back so easily I wanted to go back to my old thinking only she had shown me part of the truth even before she used that magic. So I’m taking my disappointments out on you. I’m sorry. I’ll go if you want me to.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
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“Welcome witches and carpenter,” Dawn said as she opened the door. “Make yourself at home.”
“Where’s Buffy and the G-man?” Xander asked looking around.
“They may be bailing Anya out of jail,” Dawn replied.
“WHAT?” all three said nearly at once.
“She was chasing some guy with her bat,” Dawn explained quickly. “I think it was the guy from last night, her old boss.”
“D’Hoffryn?” Willow asked.
“Yeah!” Dawn answered with enthusiasm. “He was at the wedding. Of course that was while he was a demon, but it didn’t look like he’d changed his sense of style much. At least it didn’t look like it from the helicopter shot.”
“She was on TV?” Tara asked with a verbal wince.
“She and Sunnydale are on CNN!” Dawn replied brightly.
“I told you it was big,” Xander added.
“Didn’t Betty tell you?” Dawn wondered.
“She said there was trouble,” Willow explained. “She didn’t mention CNN.”
“That’s because in my day reporters went out and found real stories,” Betty huffed as she floated out of the fireplace. “They didn’t take corporate and political handouts from flim-flammers and pass it on as news or run around screaming about a phony crisis that-”
“An entire building?” Tara said in a shocked whisper. “Oh my God!”
“A Senator is missing?” Willow gasped as she looked at the streamer below the framed shot of smoldering wreckage.
“What have I done?” Tara asked as she slumped into a chair.
“A bloody good job,” the male salamander insisted.
“How?” Tara asked.
“The big bad barristers there were Wolfram and Hart,” he said with a bright grin.
“They’ve been serving the dark side of the legal profession for over a hundred years,” Betty added grimly. “We’ve tangled with them before. Pity it was only the Los Angeles office.”
“You’re never gonna call it LA, are you love?” the male teased.
“But there are other people missing,” Tara said glancing back at the TV.
“People who made deals with the devil,” Betty said sternly. “Sometimes literally.”
“But I-I-” Tara stopped and looked helplessly at Willow.
“Your missing Senator was buying power with a spell,” Betty pointed out with an old anger. “The Cloak of Sha’adz-”
“WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF-” Tara snarled in a voice not entirely human. For a moment she was older and more regal looking. The blue eyed witch winced and then took a deep breath.
“What was that?” Dawn asked suddenly pale.
“An echo of one of the spells Tara touched,” Betty said gently.
“Is this going to happen a lot?” Willow asked worriedly as she sat next to Tara and put a protective arm around her.
“Probably,” Anya said as she came into the room ahead of Buffy and Giles. “Breaking a major spell from the inside leaves all kinds of traces.”
“You okay?” Xander asked Anya timidly.
“I’m feeling better,” Anya said levelly. “I still hate you but at least I can understand your stupidity. You were way out of your league.”
“What about getting rid of those traces?” Willow asked urgently.
“It would help if we knew exactly what happened,” Giles answered with concern.
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Andrew couldn’t keep the saunter going as he entered Willy’s. He hurried to the bar and sat next to what seemed like a big man in a flannel shirt and overalls. When the demon looked at him Andrew could see the tight horns and hard three fingered hands. The day bartender glared at him.
“Whaddaya want, kid?” he asked churlishly.
“I want to know what happened,” Andrew said with more courage than he felt. “My friend got killed last night.”
“Before I offer my condolences,” the demon said in a soft bass voice. “Was he a vampire?”
“No!” Andrew spat.
“My condolences for your loss,” the demon said sincerely.
“Are you gonna order or just bother my customers?” the bartender demanded.
“Gimme a soda,” Andrew said trying to sound tough.
“Buck fifty,” the bartender replied pouring a short measure over extra ice.
Andrew handed him the exact change and sipped the drink. The demon looked at him. The thin young man screwed up his courage. “What happened last night?”
“An Earth mage called out all the magic that’s leached into Sunnydale’s environment over the years,” the demon explained. “Given the decades of magic use it was a rather enormous amount of power. At least six g.s.t.u. if my figures are correct.”
“What’s a g.s.t.u.?”
“Giga-standard-thaumaturgical-unit,” the demon replied. “Of course that was just the start, what with the Third Law of Power Manipulation.”
“What does that mean?”
“Roughly, who ever did the spell last night created in essence a magical singularity and controlled it,” the demon answered. “I’d suggest staying out of her way.”
“Because she’s so powerful?” Andrew mused.
“No,” the demon shook his head. “Because the magic around here was mostly dark magic. Like calls to like so whoever this mage was, they’ve touched more magic from the gray to obsidian wavelengths than anybody since Black Alice. My gauges all pegged out. They’ll probably be a bit touchy for a few days.”
“Touchy?” Andrew asked quickly.
“Out of balance, hard to center or even losing their previous power orientation, that sort of thing,” the demon explained. “All of that with plenty of dark power from contamination to burn. Or flay, or render depending on their mood. Who ever it was really changed my data about human magical capacity. My hypothesis was the reports from this world were legend.”
“What do you mean about losing their previous orientation?” Andrew asked carefully.
“That much contamination could change the polarity of the mage’s magic, say from Earth to Blood in this circumstance if they lose their Earth bond,” the demon said warming to his subject. “Galonis the Benevolent defeated a grimoire of the Black Dragon Society that had become sentient and took 1.65 g.s.t.u. of Blood Path magic with a mean exposure rate of twelve spells per second. He went over ninety percent dark magic after that. It took a college of mages to stop him. My professor-”
“What are you?” Andrew asked with a smirk as the demon fell suddenly silent. “A graduate student in Magic Physics?”
The demon stared at him for a moment. “Please don’t tell anyone!” the demon sputtered. “I studied everything about this dimension to blend in so I wouldn’t prejudice my findings. My observations will be ruined!”
“I won’t tell anyone if you tell me one thing,” Andrew said conspiratorially. “How do you get at an Earth mage?”
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“Thanks for seeing me,” Wesley said as Lilah sat down in the coffee shop.
“You were the only one to call,” Lilah said coldly.
“The other offices not sending inquiries?” Wes rasped.
“No questions, no condolences, nothing,” Lilah answered in a brittle tone. “Not so much as a fruit basket.”
“I’m sure once the dust settles they’ll be in touch,” he assured her. “If nothing else to cover their asses.”
“And find a scapegoat,” Lilah agreed with a small sigh. “So why did you call me?”
“To discuss a mutually beneficial exchange of information,” Wes replied.
Lilah stirred her coffee as she looked out the window at people hurrying past. She sipped her skinny mocha and looked back at the Englishman.
“How’s Angel?”
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Anya led the rest of the Scoobies into the Magic Box and turned over the sign on the door to ‘open’. Giles stopped and looked up to the former dangerous book level. His jaw fell slightly as the color drained from his face.
“Like I said, they’re all gone,” Anya said as Giles kept staring at the horrible sight of empty bookshelves.
“But...all of them?” he finally got out.
“Even the mass market hack jobs claiming to be the Necronomicon,” Anya said with a frown.
“I thought we weren’t going to stock those,” Giles replied with a frown of his own.
“Hey, who left town and wasn’t here when that bad third quarter hit?” Anya asked angrily.
“Is that a reason to let that blatant thievery into the store?” Giles countered.
“Please stop it!” Tara said as she rubbed her forehead. Giles and Anya both felt hot air push them apart. “Sorry,” Tara grimaced.
“Interesting,” the male salamander said aloud.
“Okay,” Willow said quickly. “We’re all a bit on edge. Let’s just get the books that are left and see if we can find out what’s happening.”
“What about your work?” Anya asked Xander.
“We’re banned from the area until the science guys get done,” Xander replied. The silence grew between them and Anya finally turned away. Xander sighed and looked for a book. He stopped where the male salamander was looking at titles. “Anything good, ah...”
“Sorry mate,” the salamander replied. “I’m trying to be all anonymous. Its that pesky power in the name thing.”
“How about I just call you Bruce-” Xander stopped as a white flare enveloped the salamander’s sphere.
“Oh no!” Betty said before the sphere cleared.
“No drama, love,” Bruce sighed. “That spell of Miss Maclay’s is still spot on.”
“I’m sorry!” Xander sputtered. “I mean-I didn’t want to-oh damn, I’m sorry Bruce. Oh crap!”
“Wow,” Buffy said as the sphere cleared again. “That sucks.”
“Tell me about it,” Betty sighed. “I really dislike Monty Python.”
“So where did...your name come from?” Buffy asked.
“It was a different time when my mothers had me,” Bruce replied. “The war was coming at us, the Depression was barely over.”
“Mothers?” Dawn asked.
“Sex is not important to salamanders-” Betty began. Bruce coughed lightly. Betty’s sphere became pink. “That is sex is not needed for procreation.”
“The dance,” Buffy said softly.
“Yes,” Betty nodded.
“The spell’s working,” Bruce said. “Let’s get to looking for what’s bothering Tara.”
On the other side of the shop Tara’s brief smile faded. Willow reached for her hand. The blue-eyed witch held on tightly for a moment.
“We should do something for them,” Tara said tiredly.
“Yeah,” Willow agreed. “I’ve had a thought along those lines.”
Tara looked around the Magic Box. Something nagged at her memory.
He hurt my nose.
Aww
Yeah, you’re welcome
“Spike,” Tara said suddenly.
“What about Spike?” Willow asked in a puzzled tone.
“Honey, I-I have to talk to you about something.”
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Lucinda woke up late that morning. She saw Dr. Watson talking to her parents before they went out to the cafeteria. The doctor sat down in a chair near her bed.
“How are you feeling?” Georgia asked.
“I still feel sick but it’s better,” Lucinda replied holding onto her stuffed panda.
“Who is this?” Dr. Watson wondered pointing at the bear.
“This is Ollie,” Lucinda told her proudly. “I got him when I was little. I’m going to keep him forever, even when we get a dog.”
“Are you going to get a dog?” Georgia asked.
“After we go home and the blood cells behave themselves,” Lucinda replied surely. “Then we’ll get her.”
“Would you draw a picture of your dog?” the doctor asked.
“I think I can remember what she’s going to look like,” Lucinda said looking for her crayons.
“You think you can remember her?” Georgia asked.
“The pictures of the bad things aren’t in my head anymore,” Lucinda explained carefully.
“When did that happen?” the doctor asked.
“This morning I woke up and they were gone,” Lucinda replied with a smile that beamed. “Just like they said they would.”
“Who said?” Georgia asked.
“The pictures told me they would go away,” Lucinda explained carefully as she finished drawing. She held up a brown and tan blob with four legs, a tail, and a smile. “She’s going to be called Nellie.”
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“I don’t understand,” Giles said with a frown. “You say Spike had you in his power and told you to save Drusilla?”
“And to tell Buffy he was sorry,” Tara added.
“Damn it!” Buffy said angrily. “I thought he was out of my life.”
“He is,” Tara said with a wince. “There’s no coming back for him.”
“He didn’t ask you to get him out?” Giles wondered incredulously.
“No,” Tara replied unhappily.
“Honey, the spell I used is old and you just can’t find some of that stuff,” Willow added.
“Right,” Anya said with a snort. “Orbs, balances, parchment, even low fat mandrake shavings are all still taking up valuable shelf space downstairs. Most of the stuff we inherited from previous dead owners’ inventories.”
“There’s just one thing that bothers me,” Tara said uncomfortably.
“What’s that?” Willow asked anxiously.
“You said the spell gave Angel back his soul,” Tara explained.
“Yeah, it made him Angel again,” Willow answered carefully.
“Honey, you may be the most powerful and cute witch ever,” Tara pointed out. “But even you can’t give something a soul. No human can.”
“Then what do you think the spell gave Angel?” Giles asked the witch.
“If I’m right,” Tara said hesitantly. “I think it gave him a chance.”
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“You disgust me, Spike,” a voice almost too deep for human ears growled. “Even the mechanical device failed to break your spirit. But a slip of a girl and a bit of trust have turned you into a weak thing beyond repair.”
“Look, are you goin’ to talk me ears off or are you going to do something?” Spike asked.
“Cheekiness doesn’t count,” the voice sniffed.
“No, it doesn’t,” a new vibrant voice said with a sigh. “But actions and decisions do. So does being human.”
“How DARE you address us here in such a way, messenger!” the voice bellowed as it became a towering flame.
Spike dropped towards the lake of fire only to stop halfway. He looked at the creature hovering nearby. The being was neither young nor old, male nor female, but simply beautiful. At the moment though it looked beautiful and harried.
“I’m here for him,” the being said simply.
“Impossible!” the voice snapped. “He and his kind are my creations to do with as I please!”
“Half your creation,” the being sighed. There was a sound like a backing truck and a golden forklift appeared groaning with papers. “We’ve been through this on previous cases.”
“Previous cases?” Spike asked incredulously.
Above them another vampire returned in a meteor of fire and greasy smoke, his descent accompanied by a scream of rage and pain.
“There’s another one that’s your fault, you little worm,” the hate-filled flame snarled.
For a second Spike felt himself crawling under his duster. Then he was back in his form with only a fleeting urge to seek a warm compost pile.
“Can we get on with this?” the being Spike was beginning to realize was an angel said dryly.
“They are demons!” the malicious fire hissed angrily.
“They are both demon and man,” the angel corrected. “And that means they have their free will from the part that is human. Besides, you have to admit, this one has a lot of will.”
“This was not my intent!” snarled the fire as it burned higher.
“Your intent is not what matters,” the angel said firmly. “What matters is this being has a free will when not fettered by the demonic half. Nor does it matter how his will came to be free. What matters is since he has exercised that will for mercy, given that he is in fact-”
“Take him,” growled the fire as it became a volcano. “And they call me the father of lawyers.”
The angel nodded and beckoned Spike to follow him. Spike shrugged his duster into place and reached for a cigarette. The angel looked at him disapprovingly as he lit up. The vampire grinned.
“Lighten up,” he said. “You won me fair and square and you get to keep me.”
“Lucky me,” the angel sighed wearily.
“Bye the bye, old chum,” Spike said brightly. “What did you mean by precedent?”
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“If I say hi am I going to regret it?” Lorne asked from the shadows of the alley.
“I have no bat on me currently,” Wes replied. “You should be safe.”
“Do you have a line on what happened?” Lorne asked.
“About which of Southern California’s mysteries?” Wes asked genially.
“How about all of them?” Lorne replied. “Except how great looking girls and boys keep ending up with ugly rock stars.”
“Who wants to know?” Wes inquired.
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The phone in the Magic Box rang several times before Anya felt her hands were clean enough to answer it with a chipper “Magic Box!” Her clarity was remarkable given that she said it around a mouthful of chicken.
“Oh, very well,” she said unhappily. “Giles, it’s the other Brit.”
“Why does political correctness never apply to the British?” Giles asked rhetorically. “Yes, Wesley. What is it?”
Across the room Tara was curled up on one chair reading a book of cleansing spells and nibbling on a carrot. Nearby Willow watched her as her own book went unread and her lunch grew cold. Next to her Buffy seemed uncomfortable, so much so it eventually became apparent even to Willow.
“What’s bugging you?” Willow asked her friend.
“Will, I...” Buffy looked down and for a moment the witch was struck by how much the gesture reminded her of Tara, hiding from some hurtful thing, afraid to share. Willow looked at Tara. She stood up and went over to her lover.
“Hey, Baby,” Willow said gently.
“Hey,” Tara replied with a smile.
“I’ll be close,” Willow said glancing at Buffy.
“She’s had a rough time, honey,” Tara warned softly. Then she closed her hand around Willow’s and squeezed it softly for a moment. “I’m close too.”
Willow turned back to Buffy. Without a word she passed her friend and headed toward the training room. She could feel Buffy behind her, only this time there was none of the safety the Slayer usually brought to Willow. Willow sat on the couch in the training room as Buffy shut the door behind them. The blonde turned back toward her friend and Willow’s heart lurched to see twin silver tracks on the Slayer’s face.
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Dawn watched her sister follow Willow back into the training room. She stood up from her devoured meal and was about to follow when Tara caught the teen’s eye. Dawn walked over to Tara still glancing at the now closed door.
“Give them some time,” Tara said quietly.
“But Buffy looks like Hell,” Dawn said worriedly.
“And you’re a good sister and you want to protect her,” Tara said with a soft pride in her voice. Dawn turned at both the words and the emotion in them.
“Uh, yeah,” she said slightly embarrassed.
“Sometimes protection isn’t what’s needed most,” Tara explained. “Neither one of us can do what Buffy needs right now.”
“Will everything be okay?” Dawn asked hopefully.
“I don’t know,” Tara sighed. “And that sucks.”
“Yeah,” Dawn agreed wholeheartedly.
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Buffy slumped next to Willow. The redhead put a hand on Buffy’s and smiled.
“Hi,” Willow said with a wan smile. “Good to see you too.”
“Sorry,” Buffy murmured.
“I think that should be my line,” Willow replied with her own sigh. “I’ve been a bit of a drag what with the whole arm-breaking driving under the influence of magic and generally being a doofus about everything in general and I should help out more around the house, especially the laundry.”
“Yeah,” Buffy agreed with a soft smile. “What with all the grease and dirt you college types are always getting into.”
Willow noticed a faint flicker of something she couldn’t quite identify in Buffy’s eyes that didn’t match the smile. Willow bit back her worried question, She touched the couch instead, relishing it’s realness and waited for Buffy to speak. The Slayer just dropped her head again and this time Willow knew the look on her friend’s face.
“Buffy self-recrimination face,” Willow said with a sad shrug. “I think you picked that one up from me.”
“I’ve had it for a while now,” Buffy said flatly.
“I’m sorry,” Willow said. Then she shook her head angrily. “What a waste of oxygen. ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t come close to what I should say but I can’t even begin to find the words.”
“You’re really good at beating yourself up,” Buffy said gently. “Will, you thought I was in some hellish dimension. You wanted to save me.”
“Mostly for me,” Willow said unhappily. “I missed you so much, and I was scared to lead the rest but they looked to me, and maybe if I’d been honest I’d have known I was being a greedy poopyhead.”
“Willow Rosenberg,” Buffy said with a real smile. “Only you could bare your soul and use the word ‘poopyhead’ at the same time.”
“I guess it’s a gift,” Willow said with a slight blush. Then she looked into Buffy’s eyes and asked “What’s wrong?”
Buffy almost answered the question several times before she looked down. “Me.”
“You?” Willow asked with mounting worry.
“Yeah,” Buffy said lifting her head again. “Yes Will, me; that’s what’s wrong.”
Buffy suddenly stood up and Willow knew her friend was struggling with something. She bit back her almost automatic consoling words. Finally Buffy stopped and held her arms close across her chest. Willow took a deep breath and resolved to keep herself calm no matter what words her friend spoke. Unconsciously she stroked the surface of the battered couch again.
“I-” Buffy started. Then she took a deep breath. “You were going all big magic on us and using it for everything and I just looked down and knew you were doing wrong. That is if I wasn’t under Spike.”
“Oh,” Willow said softly.
“We didn’t make love, we fucked like animals,” Buffy said bitterly. “No, animals take mates. We were just screwing. I needed to feel something but what I ended up feeling mostly was filthy and I couldn’t talk to you about it. I was too ashamed.”
“Tara was here,” Willow said tentatively as she stopped touching the couch.
“I talked to her,” Buffy admitted. “After months of...I called her because I was sure I came back wrong. Spike could hurt me and his chip did nothing. I was sure I was...something evil because he could hurt me.”
“Hurt you?” Willow asked in a horrified whisper.
“What it really did was make me feel something,” Buffy said. “I told myself it made me feel alive. Tara helped me and I started to face some things. I thought I had everything back under control. I wanted to talk to you about it but then you and she started reconnecting and I...I wanted a happy ending. Then you were dead and gone and there wasn’t anything I could do, not really. I needed to talk to you so much and you weren’t here...”
“I’m here now,” Willow said patting the couch next to her. Buffy took a couple of steps forward and hesitated. “Still here.”
“You know I hated you?” Buffy said softly as she sat down. “Not just for pulling me out of what seemed like heaven.”
“What else did I do?” Willow asked gently.
“You go to college and you have your parents, and you’re stronger than I ever will be with your magic.” Buffy said earnestly. “But mostly I envy you because you have a wonderful person who would risk everything for you. Somebody to go home with at night who’ll love you no matter what. Will, don’t ever let her go again.”
“I won’t,” Willow said very carefully. “I don’t want to tempt you into switching teams.”
Buffy just looked at Willow with a shocked expression and realized how much the witch had seen that even the Slayer hadn’t realized. “Do you hate me now?” Buffy asked in a small voice.
“Buffy Summers!” Willow said quickly. “I do not hate you! I’ll never hate you! Well, okay, except for being all coordinated and-and that wardrobe thing where you can do any color and style and look gorgeous.”
“Except peach,” Buffy said with a wince.
“Or that horrible green Anya picked,” Willow added.
“Or those hoop earrings with that shallow neck knit top,” Buffy recalled.
“You looked great in those!” Willow replied. “Bitch.”
Buffy smiled and brushed away her few tears. Willow realized her hand was warm because Buffy’s hand was holding it. Willow knew she would feel safe again.
===========================================================
“Fascinating,” Giles said as he hung up the phone.
“What’s fascinating?” Dawn asked hopefully looking up from a very dull book on magic.
“It seems many of the occult denizens of California are quite worried,” he replied. “They want to know how they should placate the new power.”
“W-What?” Tara asked hoping against hope she’d misheard his words.
“Tara, you need an agent!” Anya said quickly. Then she looked at Giles. “You didn’t tell them she was an Earth mage and a Wiccan, did you?”
“Not yet,” Giles replied.
“Why not tell them I’m Wiccan?” Tara asked with a frown.
“Because Wiccans get didley over squat for respect,” Anya said firmly. “Sorry, but that’s the way it is. Earth mages might get a tiny bit more. Now, we’ll need to get you something black and stylishly menacing.”
“Why?” Tara asked with concern.
“Because no one will send tribute to a Wiccan,” Anya explained.
“Tribute?” Dawn asked. “You mean like Danegeld?”
“Exotic spices and strange animals?” Xander added.
“Slaves, gold, designer shoes,” Anya agreed. “You name it.”
“You learned this in school?” Giles asked hopefully.
“Historical novels,” Dawn admitted with an embarrassed grin.
“History Channel,” Xander shrugged.
“Predictable,” sighed Giles.
“I’m not taking tribute,” Tara said with a frown.
“Tara, this is a golden, and I do mean golden, opportunity to recoup your expenses!” Anya almost begged. “You can say you went back to being an Earth mage after some great, no - titanic struggle with evil. Can you do earthquakes? Small ones, just enough to be noticed but not enough to damage businesses? That will really sell the story, maybe get some thank you presents like sets of silver or maybe a car or two.”
“Are you mad?” Betty huffed.
“Anya, I’m facing enough problems with these remnant spell fragments,” Tara said firmly as she stepped between Betty and Anya. “If I start playing a role who knows where it will stop. I might lose my connection and then those fragments would pull me towards the blood path.”
“Tara, I doubt there’s any danger from that,” Anya said in a kindly way. “You’re the most Earth pathiest wallflower I’ve seen in centuries.”
“Thank you?” Tara replied.
“You’re welcome!” Anya said brightly.
===========================================================
There were already six different agencies with people in jumpsuits at the site of the former high school. The large man in the FBI marked coveralls was shouting at an EPA field agent whose coveralls were less than pristine. No one registered the small figure in the white jumpsuit with initials that seemed familiar emblazoned on the back. The heavy case that seemed to strain against his thin frame was matched by other heavy equipment around the area. His full face respirator mask with the odd colored filters was not out of place especially under the hard-hat. The FBI and the EPA were drawing all the attention when he set down his case and made some notes on the clipboard. Then the thin framed man began writing on his clipboard and seemed to be taking measurements until he was out of sight.
When he got to the nondescript van he opened the door and pulled off his coveralls, gloves and hat leaving his respirator until last. After he had bundled his equipment into several thick plastic bags Andrew pulled off the respirator and mopped the sweat from his face and plastered hair. He took the bundle and wrapped it again and put on his seat belt. Only then did he push the small button on his home made receiver.
Several hundred yards away the case let out a small pop and several kilos of mercury began to ebb out through slits into the soil.
===========================================================
In the Magic Box, Tara blinked several times and shook her head. Dawn looked at the witch and then frowned.
“Tara, why are your eyes silver?”
To Be Continued
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So Betty's mate is a fellow Aussie, huh? Hurray!
That pesky working for a living didn't slow you down too much.
