**GreenNeutron: Yay for readers!**W.I.: Are they even going to have time for a cure? I have no idea. Maybe. Maybe not. But close? Probably. I'm sure they have ideas ...
**jomarch: Is it raining manna in your yard? It must be - 'cuz lookie ... it's the next bit! Okay, can you tell I'm feeling darn silly today yet? *G*
**Cajjy: Awwww... thank you - that's incredibly nice to hear *G* I hope the rest of it lives up to your expectations.
And now, Answering Darkness 41b - Resonance:
She paused a moment, sizing them up, her thoughts drifting away from her and into the night. This was what she lived for. Fights in the dark with undead creatures she couldn't help but feel a strange kinship for. They crawled from their graves, even as she had, and were thrown into an existence of fierce violence, fighting to survive in the dark. They didn't know peace, as she had known it. Could they ever? Were their souls set free when she dusted them, or were their souls already free from the excruciating process that had made them nothing but blood and flesh?
She had never feared the dark as a child. There were no monsters, no hidden dangers. Just a comfortable stillness she had always enjoyed. But now she was older, and she knew better. And she had been thrown to this new darkness, strange and terrifying, with the understanding that she would not survive it. That one day, the darkness would take her.
A swift kick, and one was knocked back, but two more jumped in, trying to use their greater weight to take Buffy to the ground. It didn't help as Buffy got a stake in front of her, letting one vamp impale itself as she stepped into the dust, letting the other fly past her.
The first one she had kicked away came back, and the other grabbed her from behind, his supernatural strength pinning her arms to her sides. The last - the one she had sent sprawling before the next three stepped up - regained his feet, moving towards her.
"You never learn, do you?" she muttered, ducking down and bending over, sending the vampire holding onto her flying into the one directly ahead of her, breaking its hold and taking her stance.
Then the last was upon her, a right cross sending her reeling back and making her head spin. A flash of light seared across her vision as the fist connected with her face, and a ringing in her ears drowned out all sound.
Time seemed to slow as the snarling vampire moved in. Reflexively, her hands came up, blocking his blows, then slipping through his defenses, her stake driving through his chest - crushing through his ribs with the force behind it - and rupturing its unbeating heart.
Her eyes drifted shut as the shower of dust spread around her, and a small smile drifted across her features. It was clear, now. She had been Chosen - not to be a victim of the dark, but to be its champion.
The last two advanced, and she let them, grinning broadly as they attacked her, blocking their blows and returning them. No, she was not a victim of the dark, but its savior. She would make it what it had been for her when she was young - safe and warm and monster-free.
The vampires had no chance under the renewed vigor and strength of the Slayer, the two to one odds giving them no advantage as she bore up under the brunt of their blows, pushing them back, gaining ground, and finally, ending their existence in a fantastic shower of dust.
They were invaders - interlopers - into the night. It was a part of her, and she was a part of it, and they couldn't touch her here - not unless she let them.
The vampire leader applauded, a small smile playing across his demonic visage.
"You work for him, right?" Buffy said without preamble, recognizing that the newly organized vamps were likely influenced by the Trickster, at the very least indirectly.
"He is my master, yes," the vampire said.
"Well, you tell him from me that the nighttime is mine, and I've never been one for following rules," she said.
The vampire slipped into the shadows, but Buffy wasn't worried. She would stake him later, after he had delivered her message. He couldn't hide from her - not in the dark.
"You follow his rule without knowing," came the voice of the vampire as it left the area.
With a scowl, Buffy started off. She'd run by Willie's, then head back and make sure everyone was all right. She didn't expect any trouble at the house, but even if there was, between Giles, Xander and Spike, they could handle it.
As usual, the room when silent when Buffy walked in. She stifled a giggle. There was something so ... Old Cheesy Western about walking into Willie's with a couple of stakes in her pockets. Maybe she should make little holsters for them?
"I don't want no trouble," Willie said quickly, immediately noticing the quiet that had come over the bar.
"I don't either," Buffy said, seating herself on a stool. "And I'd really rather not punch you this time, too."
"Oh, yeah, okay," Willie said with a nod. "You gonna' ... I dunno, pull me over the bar? Maybe kick me a little?"
"Look, I just want you to talk. Without the display, okay? I'm kinda' in a hurry," Buffy said. "I'd rather not have to get all She-Ra Princess of Power on you."
"Huh?" Willie returned.
"Look - organized vamps. Some guy named The Trickster. Big trouble brewing. Just talk before I have to remove some of your teeth in the not-so-nice-and-gentle-way."
"F-fine," Willie stammered, looking around uneasily and hoping his peculiar clientele wasn't going to turn on him for talking to the Slayer. "Word is, he's a real bastard, but fair. They say he's gonna' show up within the next few days, y'know? And that he's gonna band everyone together and make the whole world a safe place for his chosen people. Not that he's referring to people, mind you - all the demons."
"A couple of days?" Buffy asked. "Are you sure?"
"That's the word," Willie said, backing up and holding up the bar towel in his hand defensively. "I'm just repeating what I'm hearing, y'know?"
"Yeah, I know ... anything else?" Buffy asked.
"Yeah, kind of," Willie said slowly, her brow furrowing as he thought. "They say it's like ... well, there are a lot of new demons in town. The Hellmouth kinda' calls 'em, y'know? But it's like right now the Hellmouth is getting some kind of signal boost, like suddenly it's an FM radio instead of AM, right?"
"I gotcha'," Buffy said, nodding and moving to rise.
"Could you ..." Willie began, only to trail off when Buffy looked back at him.
"What?" she asked.
"Well, could you kinda' ... pretend to be pissed off, like I didn't tell you anything?" he asked uncertainly.
"Fine," Buffy said with a sigh, then continued, raising her voice a little. "Willie, you little weasel," she yelled, grabbing his shirt and shaking him. "You're the boil on the butt of humanity! You're the scum between the toes of all mankind! I can't believe you would betray your people with your silence!" She released him with a little push, then stormed out of the bar.
Buffy immediately broke into a run as soon as she was out the door, heading back to her house. If what Willie had heard was right, their timetable had just been upped. Whatever the Trickster had planned, he expected it to work within the next few days, and that meant Willow was in danger.
It felt good, though, to be running. To let her legs and arms carry her through the night, the cool air whipping against her face. It felt good to feel.
And she was, she noted, actually feeling. A smile crossed her face, and she ran faster.
The familiar street, then the house, loomed before her. She gained the steps with one bound, then opened the door, walking into the light and warmth of her home and her friends.
It was nice, she realized, to be welcome in the light. So many slayers before her had existed solely in the night, their lives nothing but the darkness they couldn't understand even as they tried to save it. But that's what they didn't understand - they weren't fighting the dark - they were cleansing it. Making it good again.
But she was lucky. She had these people who reminded her why it was worth it. Because it was worth it. Any price was worth making the world, light or dark, safe for these people.
"Hi guys," she said, shutting the door behind her.
"Buffy," Giles greeted with a smile. "How was patrol?"
"Six organized vamps in some kind of fighting unit," Buffy related. "Willie says the Hellmouth is attracting even more big ugly friends than usual, and that the word on the street is, The Trickster expects the Hellmouth to let him out in a few days."
"A few days?" Giles asked, his eyebrows raising. "Dear Lord," he muttered.
"Right," Buffy said with a nod. "Willow and Tara okay?" she asked.
"They're fine," Xander said. "Well, we think. I mean, they're not making any noise, so they're probably fine."
Buffy rolled her eyes, then headed to the stairs. "I'm just gonna' check on 'em real quick," she said, taking the stairs two at a time. She knocked lightly on the door, mindful of the one embarrassing incident when she hadn't knocked first and the eyeful she had gotten.
"Yeah?" a sleepy voice called.
Slowly, Buffy opened the door, peeking her head in. "How are you two doing?" she asked softly, seeing Tara blinking blearily at her.
"Fine," Tara said slowly. "Willow's still sleeping," she added needlessly.
"Then I won't bug you," Buffy said. "I just wanted to check."
"Is it time for us to get up?" Tara questioned, craning her head to look at the clock.
"You two are fine where you are," she said, a small smile crossing her face. A Willow-sized lump was sprawled over Tara under the covers, the top of Willow's red head peeking out from the blankets.
Buffy's hearing picked up a squeak, and the Willow-Lump shifted, and a voice murmured, "no frogs in the bathtub." Stifling a laugh, Buffy left the room.
"No ... no frogs," Willow said again, her face pulling into a frown and her voice growing more insistent.
"Honey, there are no frogs in the bathtub," Tara assured her, slipping her hands under the blanket to rub Willow's back soothingly.
"Y'damn right," Willow said emphatically, her head nodding against Tara's shoulder.
Tara giggled, unable to stop herself. Sleepy Willow was so incredibly endearing. And perfect. And wonderful. And sweet. She could go on and on.
Willow grumbled a protest as her personal mattress bounced beneath her, shaking her with the giggles. She raised her head and blinked twice, her gaze unfocused, but still finding Tara's face.
"Hey," she said softly, a slow sweet smile crossing her face as her vision cleared and she saw Tara. Now that was the perfect way to wake up.
"Hey yourself," Tara said, smiling back and brushing a bit of Willow's hair from her face. "How are you feeling?" she asked on a whisper, something about the moment keeping her from speaking at a normal level.
"Mmm... I'm feeling all ramfeezled," Willow said with a sigh, letting her head drop back down to Tara's chest.
"Ramfeezled?" Tara asked with a laugh, wrapping her arms around Willow and hugging her tightly. "What in the world does 'ramfeezled' mean?"
"Look it up," Willow said impishly, returning the hug as best she could from her half-across-Tara's-body position.
"Why?" Tara asked innocently, rolling Willow onto her side and turning to face her, kissing her lightly. "I have a walking talking dictionary right here."
"Because you learn it better if you look it up," Willow said stubbornly, reaching up a hand and stroking Tara's cheek. Tara's eyes drift shut and she hummed happily, pulling Willow into a snuggle and sighing.
"But then I'd have to get out of bed," she murmured against Willow's neck.
"Oh, well, we can't have that," Willow said, hugging Tara around the shoulders as Tara moved slightly and nuzzled her collarbone. "It means tired, but y'know? Tired gets used too much, and it's not even that good of a word. Poor 'ramfeezled' is a great word, but nobody ever uses it. And it sounds like it means 'tired' more than 'tired' does, kinda' like 'fizzled'. Because that's how I kinda' feel ... all fizzled out and ramfeezled."
Tara laughed and kissed the conveniently located collarbone, grinning at Willow. She kissed her softly, pressing gently against those lips that she knew could go on about the merits of 'tired' versus 'ramfeezled' for a good ten minutes.
Willow smiled against Tara's mouth, feeling all ramfeezled, but happy. Definitely happy. Though, she needed a better word for 'happy' if she objected to using 'tired'. Jocund, maybe. Yeah ... ramfeezled, but jocund. She was chock full of ramfeezley jocundity, because Tara was here and they were together, and all snuggly and kissing, and that was oh so nice.
"You're babbling right now, aren't you?" Tara asked, moving back just a fraction, her breath playing across Willow's lips.
"Uh-huh," Willow said, her hand moving from Tara's shoulder to play happily with her hair. "Ramfeezley jocundity," she said with a smile, her mind still playing with the idea as Tara laughed softly and trailed little kisses all over her face.
"Honey?" she said inbetween kisses. "I'm pretty sure 'jocundity' is right, but I'm almost positive there is no such word as 'ramfeezley'."
"Fine," Willow said with a mock frown. "Just spoil the breadth and depth of my jocundity with your infernal logic."
"I'd rather get rid of your ramfeezley-ness," Tara said seriously, placing a last lingering kiss on Willow's mouth. "Are you okay? Do you need water, or food, or maybe more napping?"
"Mmm," Willow murmured, stretching her tired and aching body. "Other than the tired, I'm feeling kinda' good," she said, a hint of wonder in her tone. "We should probably get with the researchy stuff," she went on, a hint of regret and a kind of childish 'but I don't wanna'!' tone in her voice.
"Hmmm ... I don't want to, either," Tara said softly. "I'd rather stay here."
"I just want to spend the rest of my life using chocolate to fingerpaint the entire works of Sappho in the original Greek on your back and licking it off. Is that too much to ask?" Willow asked plaintively.
"Oh, wow," Tara said, blinking, somewhat taken aback by Willow's statement.
"What? You have something against chocolate?" Willow asked innocently, a wide smile crossing her face as she caressed the body part she wanted to use as a plate. "I could use whipped cream instead."
"No, chocolate is fine," Tara squeaked as Willow pressed her close and started kissing her neck.
"O'course," Willow's muffled voice came to her ears. "You're tasty without it," she said, licking the soft skin over Tara's pulse point lightly.
"Oh, wow," Tara said again, her breath quickening and her pulse picking up under Willow's mouth.
A knock sounded at the door. "Hey, guys, I brought dinner," a soft voice came through the wood.
"You should really eat something," Tara said seriously, her concern for Willow warring with that desire that was always smoldering just under the surface. "And you're all ramfeezley. You should rest."
"I don't want to eat ... food," Willow said wickedly, sucking lightly on Tara's pulse point.
The door started to open, and Willow jumped back, glaring crankily at the door. Buffy entered backwards, balancing a tray in her hands. She turned, and spotted a disgruntled and rumpled Willow sitting up in bed.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Buffy said with a chagrined smile. "I didn't mean to wake you up."
"She was just starting to wake up anyway," Tara said quickly, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. She quickly arranged a couple of pillows behind Willow and settled her there.
"Thanks, honey," Willow said, unable to stay cranky when her best girl - the best girl - was showing such automatic tender care for her, like it was impossible for Tara to do anything else. Which, she mused, was probably true. She scootched aside to give Tara room to lean against the pillows, too. She didn't want her girl getting a crick in her back.
"Okay, kids," Buffy said, placing the tray across their laps. "Dinner a la' Anya, so ... be nice," she said with a smirk.
"How's the research going?" Willow asked.
"We'll go over it when you two are up and around," Buffy said pointedly. "No research talk in here. You two eat, then nap again, or come downstairs, but for now, just ... stay here," she went on, then left as quickly as she had entered.
"Oookay," Tara said, drawing out the word and raising her eyebrows as she looked over at Willow.
"Yeah, that was ... weird," Willow agreed. "Though, she's probably just worried. Y'know."
"Or she's hiding something," Tara said with a frown.
"Nuh-uh," Willow said, shaking her head. "No talking about it - Dr. Buffy's orders."
"Right," Tara said, her features softening as she looked back over at Willow. "Dr. Buffy's orders."
[This message has been edited by Sassette (edited March 28, 2002).]
