TITLE: Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel STATUS: On-going AUTHOR: halfofone FANDOM: Buffy The Vampire Slayer RATING: PG13 CODE: Buffy/Tara FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome. SUMMARY: Tara has left Willow. Buffy is feeling sorry for herself. They are both fleeing for their lives from the demon of the week NOTES: This is set in season six. It is a more cheerful fic than the eps in season six might warrant. No need to say that really 'cause amputation of your leg without an anaesthetic would be a more cheerful experience than most of season six! SPOILERS: Probably. Anything from seasons one to six is fair game. ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where. DISCLAIMER: BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy. I am just playing with their dolls.
SUMMARY: Tara has left Willow. Buffy is feeling sorry for herself. They are both fleeing for their lives from the demon of the week
NOTES: This is set in season six. It is a more cheerful fic than the eps in season six might warrant. No need to say that really 'cause amputation of your leg without an anaesthetic would be a more cheerful experience than most of season six!
BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy. I am just playing with their dolls. TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
A fireball whizzes over my back and past my left ear and there's an acrid whiff of singed hair. My hair. Whoa! You have to give them credit. The demon dimension is really trying to come through for me. I want to die again (third time's the charm) and they want to help me. Would have got my wish this second, except that the 'The Powers That Be' have a wicked sense of humour: saved by an itch on my leg.
'Kay Buffy', I mentally stick a pin in my balloon of self-absorption, 'enough of the dying rap'.
I have to keep Tara safe. Willow will toast my ass if I allow Tara to get even slightly singed and I'm sure that my own death wouldn't help me escape the wrath of Will; she'd just bring me back to kill me again! Willow loves Tara. I know that for certain even if the pride of wiccadom have apparently split up, which is a way weird idea! They seemed to be made for each other, forever. I don't know what happened. Neither of them will talk to me about the break-up and no-one else seems to know what went wrong either.
Another fireball howls past us and whistles me back to the present. Tara is looking pretty scared.
"Hey! Any chance of magicking up some kind of defence type thingie like a shield or a forcefield?" I ask not very hopefully.
She shakes her head and manages to look really guilty as though she should have remembered to pack her anti-fireball spells this morning. "I don't think so. I'm not s..s..sure." She frowns. "Willow would know. I think the dragons are magical... you know... not real."
I peer down the narrow rock crevasse towards the entrance to the chasm. A scaly snout with flaring nostrils peers right back at me. The animal opens its maw, revealing some not so minty-fresh and very large teeth. It roars loudly, expelling a smoky breath; the noise bounces up and down the walls of the small crevasse. Behind the dragon's head I can see the shadowy figure of the beast's rider.
"They look real enough. What I want to know is who are the guys riding them? Did you get a look?" I say this, more for something to say than expecting any useful information. I know the drill. I stagger about in an ignorant haze while my enemies cook up elaborate schemes which I never really understand even when I have defeated them. It is not my job to understand evil; my job is to destroy it. I only have to know enough for that.
"S..sorry." She looks at me, all apologetic again. "Too busy running for my life I guess." A shrug and a shy grin punctuate her apology. I grin in response and start to think aloud.
"Okay so they've got us corked in here... so why stay down there instead of coming in after us? Perhaps they're not much of a threat without their dragons or maybe they're scared of me." I am speculating without really having a clue. Tara's smile fades and I know she's thought of an answer and that I'm not going to like it.
"Perhaps they're waiting for someone else. Maybe someone wants to umm... talk to us."
"A demon?" I sound doubtful 'cause I am. "Talking not usually a strongpoint with demony types. Maybe they want a full breakfast and they just followed their noses." I indicate my Doublemeat Palace uniform. Tara nods and grins at me again. I act all offended.
"Hey feel free to disagree. I don't smell that bad!"
She looks immediately worried and contrite and tries to reassure me. "Y..you smell nice, most of the time." Her blue eyes widen with embarrassment and I want to laugh. "Not that I go around sniffing you. That would be strange and bad and I'm n..not like that."
"You're not? But you are a Wiccan - I've heard that there are folk who think that's strange and bad."
"Not by Sunnydale standards."
"You have a point. Anyway strange and bad are part of my job description; everything in my life is strange or bad or both." I feel the bitter chill of my reality overwhelm me again and finish more harshly than I meant. "Why should you be any different?"
She is hurt by my words and unable to disguise it, although she tries by staring hard at her shoes as though seeing them for the first time. I want to smack myself.
The stiff silence is interrupted by a shrill male voice. "Send the witch out slayer. We will let you go." The accent is odd. Sort of Irish but not.
"Who are you?"
"That is not your concern slayer. Just deliver the witch."
"I'm sorry" I answer as brightly and helpfully as a I can, "making deals with demons and delivering innocents to dragons is not in the slayer handbook but," and I am trying to be helpful here - you should always give your customer an alternative - "I can deliver your ass to hell if that's any use."
The voice doesn't seem interested in my offer. "I am not a demon and she is not an innocent. She is an abomination. I will give you until daybreak to consider my offer. Then you will both die."
"Save yourself the wait shrill-boy. There's no deal. If you want to kill me why don't you try it now?"
"Until daybreak slayer."
I step into the narrow corridor of stone and have to throw myself to the ground as two thin streams of fire streak towards me. I feel the heat pass over my back and roll back into the shallow indent in the rock wall that is providing us with cover. The dragons hiss with what I fancy to be disappointment.
"I guess we won't get out that way. Tara do you have any idea who this guy is?" She is huddled against the cold wall on the other side of the crevasse. "Tara?" She looks up at me and even in the dim light filtering down from above us I can see she has gone deathly pale.
"I'm not sure," she whispers. "Maybe."
"Tara I need to know what I'm fighting, so share."
"I think he might be the Great Wizard; the first of his kind."
"You mean like the very first ever?"
Tara nods.
"What would this great wizard want with you?"
"Not me - I mean - not me in particular. He just hates witches. Women with magical power."
"Not big with equal opportunities then. Just how 'great' is this wizard."
"I thought he was a myth. My mother told me the story when I was a little girl. When I grew up I assumed it was just a story to scare girl-children into being good."
"Were you scared?"
"Yes."
"Were you good?"
She shrugs and smiles weakly at me.
"Yes of course you were."
************
I can just see stars through the narrow gap of the cliffs rising above us. Darkness has fallen rapidly. It's hard to see in the gloom, even for me. Tara must be completely blind.
I have to admit that I'm stuck for any ideas. If I were here by myself I could probably climb out but Tara wouldn't be able to even if it weren't pitch black. No it's probably best to wait for the bad guys to make a move. If they thought it would be easy then I'm sure they would have arrived already so I guess it's a stand-off for now.
Taking advantage of the dark I wriggle across the passage to the gap where Tara is crouching.
"How are you doing?"
"'Kay," she whispers very quietly. I slump down beside her and contemplate our position again. It doesn't seem any better from this side of the crevasse. I put a hand on Tara's shoulder. She is shaking slightly: cold or fear I suppose. Well at least I can help a little. I take off my jacket and awkwardly arrange it arround her shoulders.
"You'll freeze," she objects.
"No way! Slayer thermal underwear, as recommended by a long line of stiff-lipped watchers, for those chilly nights amongst the graves. Doubles as body armour."
She giggles. "Is it sexy?"
"As hell." I put my arm around her shoulders, to conserve body heat.
"You're crazy," she whispers and snuggles against me: warmth, softness and sandalwood and she's stopped shaking.
"Go to sleep" I advise.
"No. I won't leave you to w..watch alone Buffy. Anyway I don't think I could sleep. You can sleep if you like. You need your strength."
I shake my head and then feel stupid - she can't see my dumb blonde little head in the dark - so I add the verbal explanation. "Slayer senses, early warning in case any of the shadowy guys try to push up here ahead of the deadline."
"I can set a protection spell, it will warn us if anyone tries to sneak in."
"Cool," I say, "What's the warning? Thunder, sirens, bells?"
"Just my voice saying 'you have a visitor'."
"Visitor!" I exclaim, amused by the less than intimidating spell. "Shouldn't it at least say 'Halt. Friend or foe?' "
Her voice is shy as she explains. "It's not really a protection spell, I use it instead of a door chime. I can change the message if you like ..."
"No. It's fine. As long as it lets us know that something is coming."
"Oh it will," she assures me. "It works for everything; animals, humans and demons. Sometimes I forget to include kitty fantastico in the exceptions and then it just sounds all day."
"You can't stop it?"
"No but it only lasts for a day. It's okay Buffy, just rest and I'll watch. I'm too scared to sleep yet anyway."
"Nah. Better not. Battle strategy to think about."
"In a little while. Let me take care of you first."
I want her to take care of me. That is not such a little thing to say. For the first time since I was summoned back, the harsh reality that daily buffets and bruises my soul has lost a few of its hard edges. The irony of feeling more human at a moment like this is not lost on me. Somewhere along the line my head has come to rest on her shoulder. She puts an arm around me, to draw me closer and starts to mumble a quiet chant. The gentle cadence and low tone seems to ease my tension and I feel myself getting drowsy. I should stay awake and think of a way out of this but I feel safe, floating deeper into unconsciousness until my senses blur and there is just warmth, softness and sandalwood.
***********
"You have a visitor."
My eyes flick open. Daylight! Where did that come from? My eyes focus on a small brownish shape close to my face. A small rat is looking at me expectantly.
"Ugh!" I squeal and push myself backwards against the rock wall. The rat looks equally startled and runs behind a small pile of rocks. I sit up too quickly and yelp loudly as a sharp pain skewers my stiff neck.
"Ow! I hate sleeping outdoors. Oh and look at my jacket!"
I have been sleeping on it apparently. It's a crumpled filthy mess; yet another article of my clothing has bitten the sartorial dust. I should be called Buffy the wardrobe destroyer.
"Tara did you... "
She's not here. I look around desperately, foolishly. There's only four or five feet of space to search and it would not be possible to hide anything bigger than that rat.
"Fuck!"
Now I don't normally swear but in this case I think it is reasonable. A scrap of paper pinned by a rock catches my eye. As I fear, it's a note from Tara.
'Dear Buffy, I don't want to be any more trouble to you and I know the first wizard will not hurt you if I am not here so I have given myself up. Don't try to rescue me. It will be too late by the time you read this message anyway. For what it is worth you will always be my hero, my family. No one ever stood up for me the way you did. Give my love to Dawn and Willow. Love Tara. PS: please find a good home for Miss Kitty. PPS: be happy, your friends love you. PPPS: I love you.'
"Fuck!"
I snatch up my ruined jacket and start to run down the narrow rock-walled passage not hesitating to worry whether the magician still has his dragon flunkies on guard. There is nothing there. Tara was what they wanted and they had her... or maybe not. I skid to a halt. The rat! Maybe he turned Tara into a rat or maybe she did it herself.
Berating my own stupidity and praying that the little creature hasn't disappeared, I run back up to the dead end. Scrabbling amongst the small rock fall where the rat had hidden, I see a flash of brown and make a grab for the Tara-rat and promptly drop it again as the little brute bites me. Memories of history class and the black death come back to me. Wasn't that something to do with rats? My unusual foray into the past comes to a rapid halt as the rat makes a break for freedom. I throw my jacket over it, scooping it up. It squeaks pathetically and I feel a rush of affection for the poor little thing.
I need to get home, back to Willow and hope to God she can sort this mess out. I set off at a jog, all the while whispering soothing words to the little animal in my jacket, ignoring the curious looks from passers-by, praying not to meet anyone I know and trying not to imagine the state of my hair or clothing.
********
Willow, Xander and Dawn are in the kitchen as I crash through the backdoor. They look relieved.
"Starting to worry here Buff," Xander says, smiling. His expression darkens in slight disapproval as he takes in the lock dangling from the back door. "You might want to review your door opening skills, this is getting expensive."
I ignore him and address Willow.
"Will, I've got Tara here. She needs help."
"Where? She's invisible!"
"No! Rat." I look round the kitchen to find something to place my captive in and eventually settle on a large steel pan. The small rat looks very frightened and I almost forgive it my sore finger. Willow looks at it dubiously.
"That's Tara?"
"I think so. I'm not sure. She was captured by some wizard. I found the rat when I woke up."
"You were knocked out? Are you okay Buffy?" asks Dawn, looking concerned.
"Umm no. I was asleep." I look guilty, well I feel guilty and everyone is always telling me I am an open book so I guess I look guilty and Willow is suddenly a lot less sympathetic though it's Xander who asks incredulously.
"You were asleep while Tara was in the hands of an evil magician?"
"It's not like it sounds. Will, I'm sorry." Her angry eyes are demanding explanation. "We were trapped but safe for a few hours, Tara persuaded me to have a rest and when I woke up I found this note." I give the note to Willow. She reads it with a scowl; when she finishes reading she's not any happier.
"You let her do this? What the hell were you thinking about Buffy?"
"I screwed up I know but we can put this right Will. Well you can anyway... " I finish lamely.
Willow is peering at the Tara-rat. "It's okay sweetie, I'll get you back. Just hang-in." The rat sits up on its hindlegs and squeaks at her. Willow's face softens with love and I have to look away. Remorse, fear and resentment mingle in an uncomfortable cocktail. The remorse I can understand and fear for Tara is still coursing through me; the resentment is just my usual reaction to the pair of them. I'm jealous and I'm never quite sure of whom or why.
"Wait here," Willow snaps at us darkly, "I have to get some supplies. Don't let her escape or eat anything she shouldn't." She stalks from the room and a few seconds later the front door slams. Xander goes out after her muttering about a new lock.
Dawn folds her arms and raises her eyebrows and I feel my hackles rise. It's one thing to be reduced to size by Willow but I am not taking criticism from my little sister. She has just read the note.
"What?" I challenge irritably.
"Messed up this time," she says smugly.
"I don't need you to remind me."
She just grins annoyingly then waves the note at me and looks serious. "Buffy, I don't want you to use this to split them up if they get back together."
"What are you talking about?"
She has my attention now. There was something about that note that I have been trying to avoid thinking about, and I'm still avoiding, but Dawn definitely has my attention.
"Tara loves you."
"Yeah well she loves you too, though that is harder to understand." My breathing is slightly rougher but I'm not about to deny my denial. Dawn has no such hangups.
"No, I don't mean love in the friend way. Tara has a huge, Texas sized crush on you - God knows why - misplaced respect for all that self-sacrificing slayerness in my opinion."
"It's not true." I can feel my jaw jutting painfully, I am trying so hard to be sincere. Unfortunately Dawn is oblivious to my determined innocence. She contradicts me.
"Yes it is. But she is hardly going to tell Miss Straight America about her feelings is she?"
Visions of Tara parade before my eyes: smiling shyly at me as we research, looking pale and frightened when I go into battle, laughing with delight at my more spectacular training routines. I really have tried not to notice how often she comes to watch me train or how much I show off in front of her. Outside of fucking Spike (and how weirded out is that little hell of self-abuse) making Tara smile has been the only comfort stop I allow myself on the slow train to Miseryville. Something I've attributed to a special understanding based on our shared unhappiness: both snatched from heaven - me actually and she from Willow. If anyone can comprehend how alienated I am then that would be Tara. Plus she has always understood me and known what to say even at the worst of times. It's her gift.
"Shut up Dawn. Not in front of the rat. Anyway I don't see why you think I would split them up. I would never do that to Willow and in any case, you're right. I'm straight! I'm fond of Tara but not like that." I think I sound convincing.
"All I'm saying Buffy is be careful, don't tramp around in your big boots and ruin everything the way you always do."
"Oh thanks Dawn. Thanks for the vote of confidence. Willow is my best friend and Tara is ... my best friend's love and a good friend too, and I have very small feet."
"Just as long as you remember."
Her attention is distracted by the rat scrabbling to get out of its metal prison.
"Oh she looks so frightened," says Dawn worriedly, "or maybe hungry. What could we give her?"
"Willow said not to feed her ..."
"An Oreo! What harm could that do? All that chocolatey, nutritious goodness. Please Buffy ..."
"Well I guess so. I don't know what rats eat but they must like cookies."
Dawn is already rooting in the kitchen. She produces a packet of Oreos and tears it open, offering the first cookie to me. Enmity temporarily forgotten, we split the cookie in half and each proffer a piece to the rat. After a few moments of cowering, the little animal twitches its little nose and stretches up to nibble the piece offered by Dawn. After a few tentative nibbles, the rat decides it really likes cookies and the Tara-rat finishes the remainder in a few seconds. It looks at us expectantly. Dawn looks at me and I nod. Twenty minutes later the packet of cookies is half-empty. Neither of us hear Willow return until she is standing right behind us.
"Oreos?"
We jump guiltily and I drop a cookie on the rat's head. She squeaks excitedly - either in terror or gratitude.
"Hey they're harmless aren't they?" Aren't they?" I ask pathetically.
"Yeah but Tara hates Oreos. I guess her rat-tastes are different." Willow shrugs as she watches the rat demolish the cookie and then scuttle round the pan, happily wading in the crumbs.
"Have you got everything you need?" I ask, impatient to get on with this. I want to get Tara back so I can stop feeling wretched about her and go back to feeling wretched about the rest of my 'new' lease of life.
"Mostly but I'm a bit short of dried witch's butter."
"Ew," squeaks Dawn making a noise not unlike the rat. "Is that like... made from witch's milk?"
"No moron, it's a mushroom" I explain smugly. Willow looks as astonished as Dawn. "What? Am I too dumb to know anything? Actually Tara showed me some. I thought ... well like Dawn ... ew..." I trail off feeling a bit sheepish.
Dawn glares at me and mutters irritably "And you call me a moron."
"Can we concentrate here people?" Willow interrupts the sisterly banter. She doesn't sound too patient. "I've pretty much understood this animal transformation malarkey but it can still be hard to reverse. I have to find the right combination of chant and herbs to counter the particular spell used. And there are quite a few to try, so lets get on... before Tara is sick on all those Oreos."
An hour passes and my attention is flagging. Magic is too like chemistry and my lack of ability in that area is legendary. The rat looks equally bored. Dawn is on cover-up duty - since Tara will be naked when Willow turns her back - we are taking turns to hold a large blanket to throw over her at the moment of transformation.
I keep replaying my earlier conversation with Dawn and have just convinced myself for the twenty-third time that Dawn's an idiot and Mom must have dropped her on her head when she was a baby.
Tara can't love me; she wouldn't be that stupid. And I have never, ever been interested in women that way... except Faith... yes but Faith fitted that whole psychotic killer personality type that so clearly attracts me and there was the whole slayers under the skin dynamic. Anyway I hated Faith which often seems to accompany wild attraction for me. Look at Spike. Tara is not a slayer, a vampire, a psychotic killer or a man and I don't hate her. She scores zero on the 'Buffy's perfect partner test'. I feel exasperated with myself. Why am I even thinking about this. It's just stupid. My alter ego folds its arms, cocks an eyebrow, and asks snidely 'Then why does the thought of her getting back with Willow, who is (never let it be forgotten) your best friend, make you so antsy?'
A magical glow from the floor is a welcome distraction and alerts me that we may have struck pay-dirt. There's a flash and Dawn throws the blanket over a body that is forming on the floor. A few seconds pass.
"Tara?" I enquire. The blanket slowly moves and a head appears. A dark head.
"Who are you?" says the stranger at the exact same moment that I say the same thing. We stare at each other. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Willow sinking to her knees.
The brunette looks angry. "I don't know who you perverts are but you can tell that blonde chick that glowy eyes or no glowy eyes she can keep her hands off my boyfriend."
"Amy!" I exclaim angrily and Willow agrees tiredly.
"Amy."
"Then where the hell is Tara?" yells Dawn. "Where is she?"
Hollow aching fear opens up in my heart. Tara is lost. I lost her.
TBC
TITLE: Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: PG13 CODE: Buffy/Tara
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
PREVIOUSLY: Buffy mislaid Tara and Willow was not impressed. Buffy has also discovered that Tara has a crush on her. Buffy isn't sure how she feels about this revelation but she does know that she has to rescue Tara from the great wizard who kidnapped the witch.
BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy. I am just playing with their dolls.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
=Chapter 2=
"Willy!" I say, sadly disappointed, "Willy I have a thirst. I have a thirst and you are a barman, yet you are not living up to your calling. I have a thirst for knowledge. So quench it."
I complete my admonition of the barman to whom demons bare their non-existent souls with a firm shove that sends him crashing back into a stack of barstools.
"Think of all the times I've helped you."
"Slayer be reasonable!" he whines from the floor. "I can't tell you what I don't know. And what times have you helped me? I don't remember no help from you."
"You're alive."
"So? I'm human and you don't kill..."
"You should thank me Willy for remembering. Maybe, one day, I'll forget. Maybe today..." I pick him up and set him on the bar. The fingers of my right hand tighten around his throat.
The demon bar is crowded yet not one of Willy's customers lifts a finger or even their heads to watch. He's on his own with the slayer that not even a hell-god could kill. I sometimes wonder how Willy has lived this long, a known snitch without any apparent friends or allies. He must mix a mean 0 Neg cocktail.
"...and I have only your word that you are human." I look over at Clem whose scrofulous dangly bits are shaking with amusement. "Is Willy human?" I ask.
"Human!" exclaims Clem jovially. "It never occurred to me that he might be human. I mean why wouldn't one of these fine fellas eat him? In fact I might be persuaded myself, if I were of that persuasion of course." Clem looks a little nervous. His diet is something we have never discussed although Spike has hinted to me occasionally that there are very few stray cats in Sunnydale and it's not because of effective contraception.
"Okay Willy here are your choices. If you're a demon I'll have to kill you - after all it's my sacred duty - then again if you're human, Clem here has some interesting recipes he'd like to try on his friends; however there is a third way: just spill everything you know about this great wizard and we'll let your true self remain a scummy little secret." My hand squeezes his scrawny throat harder. He'll have bruises and his face has turned a disgusting shade of purple. He thrashes helplessly. I release the pressure enough to let him breathe and speak.
"K..killing me won't save her."
"Her! How do you know there's a 'her' to save? What do you know Willy?"
"Lucky guess..." A squeak of fear spurts from his lips as I shove him hard, propelling him across the bar. Angry adrenaline and worry are not a safe mixture in slayer. I vault over and pick him up by the lapels of his dirty coat, slamming him against the wall, taking satisfaction in his loud grunt as the air is driven from his lungs. I am controlling myself but only barely.
"One last time Willy. What do you know about The First Wizard?"
Willy is crumbling. "Alright! alright! I'll tell you what I heard but it ain't much. He's outta town. North of the 'dale in the hills. He's set up shop in an old cave. I don't know where exactly."
"Think harder," I growl and slam the little weasel against the wall again.
"Hey! I'm co-operating."
"Was there ever any doubt that you would?" Bang! Willy's head thumps against the wall. Willy can see I'm more than a little out of control. His eyes are frantically swivelling, looking for some kind of escape.
"Ow! Please don't do that," he snivels as I continue to assault the wall with his head. "He's got these girls... witches... imprisoned in the cave... not what he's looking for though. He hasn't found Her yet."
"What are you babbling about? Where is Tara? What has he done with her?" I ask roughly, shaking the the snitch like a rattle.
"I don't know anything about no Tara. He's looking for a great witch. An evil sorceress. I don't know the details... just that his sidekicks are in town asking a lot of questions."
"And where will I find these overly curious vermin? I'd like a chat with them... before I kill them."
"I think that youse are a little confused slayer."
Willy's tone has changed. There's a confidence there that's almost cockiness. He's realised something and that something has changed the balance of power. I don't know how but I do know that feeling of the ground shifting unexpectedly: this is Southern Cal after all. I set him down. A small grin appears on his face. Willy is cool in a crisis, I'll grant him that, maybe that's the secret of his surprisingly long life.
"In what way am I confused Willy? And this had better be good because that wall is already missing its regular encounters with your skull."
I can't believe it - I must be losing my mastery of intimidation - Willy is actually smirking. Yep there is actual hilarity in his beady black eyes.
"I don't think you should be disrespecting him or his supporters that way slayer. After all He is one of yours. The-powers-that-be won't like two of their champions facing off."
"What?" I am openly mystified.
"Don't you get it? The First Wizard is one of the good guys. His boys are champions, every one of 'em... Knights of the Round Table."
"Willy you are so going to get it. I don't know why I let you waste my valuable time. That has to be the lamest..."
"Hold up there Buffy," says a familiar and unwelcome voice. Spike grabs my fist just before it can permanently disconnect Willy's lower jaw.
"Spike! Let me go. I'm warning you."
"Darlin', I don't actually care if you paste Willy's stoaty little face all over the wall but the miserable squealer is telling the truth for once." Spike grins at me and I feel instantly annoyed. Smug British bastard.
Mr blonde and self-satisfied then explains: "Merlin, or the First Wizard as you call him sweet-cheeks, is not a demon: specialises in tracking down witches and warlocks who've gone all evil, and then decommissioning them, permanently."
Despite my overwhelming need to be cool in front of the assembled vampires and demons (who are showing a little more interest now that Spike has turned up and seeing the widespread leering amongst the assembled evil and undead, I strongly suspect that Spike has been boasting about the sudden sexual turn in our relationship of mutual loathing) I can't help squealing in an unslayerlike manner "Merlin! As in King Arthur and the sword doohickey?"
Spike smiles patronisingly. "That would be Excalibur. Yep that's the one."
I don't know what to make of this information. Why the fuck did Giles have to run away to England when I need him. I feel irritated by my ex-watcher's selfish need to get a life and it's an instant before I notice that Spike is still restraining my clenched fist only now he's sort of caressing it. I snatch my hand away from him and step away from both him and Willy. The urge to kill hasn't deserted me though. A large and bulbous demon is making suggestive, revolting gestures with his or her tongue for the entertainment of his or her companions. His or her actions are clearly aimed at me, as his or her friends are watching me closely, snorting and punching each other like a group of high-school males who have sneaked into a strip club.
Clem sees my face and tries to intercept. He isn't quick enough. The sound of a snapping neck is quite distinctive. Every head in the bar turns towards the noise. They are predators and death excites them, however their interest wanes quickly amid loud sniggers. My victim is complaining loudly, his or her head hanging awkwardly at a right-angle to his or her body. A broken neck is obviously only a painful inconvenience rather than life-ending.
Clem shrugs and grins. "Next time, go for the rolls of blubber. That's where her brain and other vital organs are hidden," he advises.
"Thanks Clem." My anger has abated and I feel a little ashamed of my loss of control. I look round for Willy but the creep must have sneaked off while I was distracted. "I have to get back to Willow and the gang. We are going to have to find out a whole lot more about this wizard and then I am going to hunt down one of these knights and force him to take me to Tara."
"Yeah right!" Spike interrupts. "You'll not break them. Lotsa fun trying but they'll not crack. I tortured one for several weeks. Silly bugger died on me and I never got what I was after."
I shudder. Spike reminiscing is almost more loathsome than Spike doing well... almost anything.
"Thanks for the warning. I'll just have to use my brains - not an option that's open to you really, is it William."
"Hey," he protests but the grin is still present. He lifts his eyebrows suggestively. "Very cranky. Very tense. You need a little help relaxing slayer." The whole bar collapses into sniggers and cat-calls. Spike's grin becomes a smirk and he looks triumphantly round his cheering section which is a mistake as he doesn't see the kick coming. A satisfying snapping of ribs provides the percussion accompaniment to the concerto of smashing glasses and bottles as Spike's body crashes into the back wall of the bar.
"Thanks Spike. That really helped. Now I feel relaxed and ready to face another day of slaughtering your buddies." Now it's my turn to smirk and I take the opportunity. Silence falls on the assembled demons except for the pathetic groans from Spike. "See you around." I saunter out of Willy's bar aware of the malevolent gazes following me out the door. Fortunately Willy's customers are not exactly the cream of demonkind and not one of them is prepared to lose their lives taking me on. Idly I wonder if Spike will make it out alive. He has plenty of enemies and in his weakened state some of the jackals might take advantage and have a go. I really don't care. Tara needs me and my demon lover is just going to have to take his chances.
***************
I report back to Willow. She is barely civil and orders me out to find one of these knights pronto - not that she has to - I can barely contain myself. Xander and Anya are already out on patrol while Willow and Dawn are going to try and locate the Wizard using magic. I think I have the easier end of the bargain. How hard is it going to be finding a bunch of men in armour walking around Sunnydale? I walk quickly down Revello Drive towards the center of Sunnydale. It's a beautiful afternoon and most of the local kids are outside riding up and down the sidewalks on their bikes and skateboards. A couple of guys in suits are going door to door selling vacuum cleaners or God - not for the first time I wonder how such a fucked-up place as Sunnydale can look so normal and why anyone still lives in a town with a murder rate ten times that of any LA ghetto.
I hate this town. I have always hated it. Everything's about the killing or the dying. Even the crappy little mall has four funeral parlours who fight it out through a series of discount wars - two coffins for the price of one. The local newspaper has two full time obituary and funeral reporters. I don't understand why anyone with a choice comes here; they must see that there are just too many cemeteries. The dead visibly outnumber the living and many of those dead rest in grander 'homes' than their descendants.
Main street is as normal looking as Revello Drive and there is no sign of any swords or sorcery. Half-an-hour later I have covered the whole East side of town without any luck. I am about to start all over when my cell phone starts to vibrate. It's Xander.
'Buffy. I think we've got something.' He's whispering and I can barely make out his words. 'Meet us by the clock-tower.'
I set off at a run, a slayer run, and there are a few very surprised drivers as they are passed by a girl on foot and in heels. A couple of minutes later, I skid to a panting halt near the old clock tower where Riley and I defeated the gentlemen. There aren't too many landmarks in Sunnydale and the few that there are, all have some association with slaying. Bitterness wells up inside me. I can never get away from myself here and it seems I can never get away. I hate this town and yet I'm back again. Trapped until I die again. And even that will probably only bring a brief peace until I'm recycled once more by my 'friends'. Speaking of whom, there's no sign of Xander or Anya nor any knights in armour. I feel irritated once more. I don't have time to go on wild goose chases except of course I do and that's more annoying than anything else. Is there anything more pathetic than me?
I walk past some bushes and hear an urgent whisper.
"Buffy! In here."
I stare at the talking bush. It speaks again though in a different voice, and not to me apparently.
"She can stay out there! There is not enough room and she is a girl."
"I suppose you would be happier if she was a demon!"
I close my eyes and count to ten. The bush keeps bickering with itself.
"If I have to be squished against someone in a physically confined space, I would prefer that someone to be male."
"Yeah well, if you're talking about up close and personal, I'd prefer two women."
"I know that is one of your fantasies - like the chocolate chip icecream and the..."
"Anya!"
"Guys!" I protest quietly while leaning over pretending to fiddle with my shoes. "Come-on there are more important..."
"To you maybe. We all know that pleasing you is most important... especially for Xander."
"An!"
"GUYS! Knights of the Round Table. Tara. You called me... Remember?"
"Sorry" mutters the bush in stereo. There follows some agitated rustling before an excited exclamation.
"Look over there! The small car parked behind the jeep."
Two men in black suits, ties and shirts are getting out of a small dark grey Honda. They're met by two more men, also in the kind of suits that scream 'I belong to some scary government agency'. These are escorting a young blonde woman towards the car. Somehow escorting is not the right word. She isn't struggling or protesting but it doesn't seem voluntary. Alarm bells begin to ring in my head.
Two more identikit guys get out of the vehicle, both from the driver's door, one after the other. I blink. That's four men who just got out of the driver's seat of a very small car and I could have sworn the car was empty when the first two got out. Two of the men help the girl into the car and then get in after her. I blink again. Either the car is empty or they are all lying down which would be some feat since it really is a small car.
"Weird huh?" says the bush. "That makes ten guys we've seen get out of that car." I can only nod at the weirdness.
The remaining four guys in black are scoping the land with that excessive over-efficient zeal that is normally associated with presidential bodyguards checking for threats. I'm half-expecting someone really important to leap from the Honda. Then I make eye-contact with one of them. We stare at each other, I can see a slow acknowledgement on watching guy's face that I am watching him and he is watching me. It's an orgy of looking. An orgy without sex but with lots of looking. Watching guy says something to his friends and they start looking too. Soon there is walking. I briefly consider running away before I remember that I'm the slayer and they should be afraid of me.
"You there! Girl!" says leading guy loudly in a strange accent. I realise with a jolt of adrenaline that the accent is the same as the shrill wizard I had heard the night before though there was nothing shrill about this man. He is speaking, or rather ordering me to stop, in a dark mellifluous baritone. An idea breaks out.
"Xander. Whatever happens stay out of sight," I mutter quietly to the bush, never taking my eyes off the four approaching men. "I've seen these guys on Revello Drive. They're going door to door. As soon as it's clear here I want you to warn Willow."
The men in black see me muttering and immediately they speed up.
"She is casting!" yells Mr Deep-voice in warning. They break into a run, splitting up to surround me. I point at one of them in what I hope is a magical way. My 'victim' ducks.
"Surrender witch!" The one to my left throws something at me. It hits my shoulder and explodes into a glittering shower of powder. I don't feel anything but I guess that's because I am not a witch. I drop my hands, flutter my eyes and try to look frightened.
"Don't hurt me," I beg and sink to my knees.
Two pairs of strong hands grip my shoulders and arms and lift me bodily back to my feet. I don't try to resist.
"She is not very strong," one of the men holding me is saying in the same weird accent. He is, like the others, tall, big and good-looking in a jock-way. I would bet all of these guys played football in school.
"I don't think this can be the one," says my guard.
"There is magic here. I can smell it," says deep-voice. "We will take her to the inquisitor. The evil-one would be clever, disguising her strength to hide from us."
For a moment, I wonder if the jocks-in-black have guessed at the unplanned plan that has presented itself to me. If they have, they are not concerned. The two men holding my arms march me towards the parked Honda. I don't resist. They open the passenger door and push me inside and get in after me. Immediately there is a weird sinking sensation. The interior of the car vanishes as the seat swallows me. I sink into darkness but it isn't empty darkness. I can feel myself being pushed and squeezed through some sort of semi-solid sponge which closes behind me. I can't breathe or make a noise because of the pressure on my chest and the moist sponge-stuff forcing itself into my mouth and nose and ears. It doesn't taste or smell or feel good. In fact it's like choking on cake soaked in gasoline. My eyes are stinging even though I have them tight shut. Then I feel myself rising, the stuff around me becomes grittier and then suddenly I can breathe. My head has emerged into air and my body is following on behind, the crushing pressure disappearing at last. I am lying on what feels like a cold stone floor sobbing for breath and coughing. Oddly I can hear birds twittering somewhere. There's also some squealing and quiet wailing - I am certain this is not a happy place After a few seconds I open my eyes and blink.
My escorts are sitting on the ground beside me and even they seem to be taking a few moments to recover. One of them pats me on the back as I continue to choke.
"You should not open your mouth while you are passing through the earth," he says a little sympathetically.
I glare at him. "I'm sorry.,," Cough. Cough. Splutter. "That would be me screaming when the car-seat swallowed me."
"It will pass."
I continue to glare until my gaze slides past him to where I can see in the dim light of a burning torch, several girls sitting and lying, chained to a dark stone wall; one of them is crying. There are also a large number of small cages piled in the corner of this cellar or dungeon. The bird noises seem to be coming from there.
"Where am I?"
My kidnappers are on their feet now. They haul me to mine before the sympathetic one answers my question.
"You are safe for the moment witch. You will be questioned soon and I hope you can find it in your heart to tell the truth."
"Oh I'm all about the truth," I say forcefully, dropping the frightened little woman act. I am going to find Tara. "And you guys are going to share some truth with me right about now." I break their hold on my arms and push one aside before spinning to deliver a kick that sends the other man sprawling on the floor, followed by a fierce kick to the side of his head. He sags immediately and I judge he is out of action for a few moments at least. The guy formerly known as my only sympathiser is coming back into the fray and he is pissed.
"Desist Witch!"
"You desist first," I retort very unimaginatively.
He circles me slowly with his fists raised, sneering, "The Lord of Magic will fillet your mind and gut your memories. You will be less than a zombie, an empty vessel, new-born into the world without a past, family or friends."
"Hmm? That sounds almost attractive. I may have to get a consultation after I finish kicking your ass!"
I am now officially frightened, not for myself but for Tara. Suppose I'm too late and the wizard has already given her a magical lobotomy. That would be her second, which is too many in one young life. The fear gives me urgency and I rush him. He half-blocks me but I get in a couple of blows and he staggers backward. I take advantage of his lack of balance to step in and finish him. Too easy. He falls unconscious to the stone floor His companion is stirring again and trying to stand. A final kick to the head sends him back to join his friend on the floor.
At last! Free of distractions. The girls chained to the wall have fallen into a frightened silence; they shrink away as I approach. It's obvious that they don't see me as a potential rescuer.
"Hello." I smile. "I'm Buffy and I'm going to get you out of here."
They look blank and even more frightened. Confused struggle has been added to their mixture of expressions. I guess that they are trying to work out who I am. By the state of their dress it's obvious that they have been here a while.
"It's okay. You don't know me. Umm... Do you guys know who you are?"
More scared silence. A blonde girl about my age shakes her head mutely.
"It's okay," I soothe again. "You're going to be alright." I feel relief, guilty relief, that none of these girls are Tara. A quick look at the ragged towers of cages makes me less happy. They are full of birds, rats, rabbits, mice and a few more exotic animals that I don't recognise. There are even a couple of glass tanks holding snakes. I'm guessing these are the failed escapees. The witch and warlock trawl has been very successful; I would never have guessed that there were this many magic folk, even in Sunnydale. I desperately want to believe that Tara isn't in one of these cages as I hopelessly scan the furry, scaly and feathered inhabitants just in case there's some kind of identifying mark or expression. A blonde rabbit hiding behind a fringe or a bird with a stammer or a shy blue-eyed guinea-pig trying to be invisible. There's nothing to see.
Turning back to the four chained girls I ask "Have any of you seen a girl called Tara?"
The reaction is a little more than I was expecting. All four girls scream and huddle against the wall. They start sobbing. I gape at them, seriously scared now. Something really awful must have happened to Tara.
"What has happened to her? Tell me!" I grab the shoulder of the nearest girl and force her to turn towards me. "You must tell me."
"She is with him!"
"With him," I repeat confused. "In what way 'with him'?"
"She helps him."
I shake my head. "Can't be the same Tara. Blonde, about 5'8", stutters."
The girl nods. "That's her." And then the girl screams and points at something behind me. "That's her!"
I turn slowly and there, protectively flanked by two more former school-jocks turned government-agent wannabees, is Tara.
"B..B..uffy," she says slowly. "You shouldn't have come."
TBC
TITLE: Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: PG13
CODE: Buffy/Tara
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
NOTES: This is set in season six. It is a more cheerful fic than the eps in
season six might warrant. No need to say that really, 'cause amputation of
your leg without an anaesthetic would be a more cheerful experience than most
of season six!
DISCLAIMER: BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy. I am just playing with
their dolls.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
SPOILERS: Probably. Anything from seasons one to six is fair game.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
== Chapter 3 ==
She looks older. Which is strange as it has only been two days - not even that - I decide it must be the torchlight.
"Hey. It is you. I mean it really is you."
I say this partly for something to say to fill the awkward silence and partly because I want her to tell me that she is really her and not some brain-washed wizard's sidekick or magical floozy.
"Yes. I'm me."
This doesn't actually get us anywhere and the silence returns as we stare at each other.
"So... erm...what's the what then?" I watch her face. She's giving nothing away so I prompt. "Tara, I'm just a bit confused - don't we normally save the innocent?" I point with my chin at the four girls cowering against the wall. She shrugs and makes a cute little face.
"They're not so m..much with the innocent. The animals are innocent though...mostly I think."
Silence again.
I decide to try again. "We were worried about you..."
"I know. I'm sorry but I wish you hadn't come. I'm not in any danger."
"You could have let us know... Willow is out of her mind."
Tara jumps and looks nervously at her companions. She glances back to me, her face sort of trembles and scrunches up uncomfortably - no rabbit facing down headlights ever looked more stricken. Tara Maclay, the worst liar ever, is going to lie.
"I... didn't want to... I mean I couldn't... you know ... hey underground... and no phones... here...and I've been really busy."
"Busy?" I query and allow a touch of sarcasm to enter my voice. "You have a job here now?" She nods at least I think she nodded - I was distracted by the shuffling feet and flapping hands. "That was fast. Abducted one day, gainfully employed the next. I hope the pay is good."
"I do have a job actually. No pay though." She smiles weakly at me, trying to be reassuring. "Reversing animal transformations is slow work... and questioning the prisoners." I don't feel reassured.
"You have a job as an interrogator?"
It doesn't sound very likely. Tara must be reading my mind.
"I know that doesn't seem like me. But I'm quite good at it. People just seem to tell me things..." Tara shrugs and smiles shyly which is the most normal thing I've seen. She doesn't look evil or under some weird mind control. I feel a little less anxious.
"I guess that makes sense. You're easy to talk to - I can see that - and perceptive. You know all my dark secrets after all..." I smile too and the tension eases.
"N..not so dark... B..Buffy." She blushes suddenly as though she has just had an embarrassing thought. "Hey! Do you want to get out of here?"
"I have a choice?"
"He doesn't want you. You're not who he's looking for."
"Who is he looking for Tara? He's kind of on my turf and I know it's wrong of me but I don't really like to share. If there's some big bad here then that's my business."
She cuts in.
"Merlin watches for dark magic vortexes forming in the magical ether. Then he and his champions follow until they track the source. Usually a coven are responsible, sometimes just one person, an especially powerful witch or a warlock. In the last four months, he's tracked a vortex to its origin in Sunnydale. It's a big one Buffy. Merlin says he hasn't seen one this large for five hundred years."
"Merlin... you're on first name terms with the guy now!"
"Not really Buffy. He only has the one."
"Too cool for two names I guess. Am I the only super-hero with two names?" I sneer. Tara looks patient and I mumble "well I have issues too... so he's magical storm chaser guy."
"Kinda. I really think we should talk about this somewhere else." She looks around anxiously and then stares pointedly at the captive girls but somehow I get the feeling that she's not all that keen on having a discussion in front of the suited goons who are still watching me very carefully. The girls are whimpering. I feel sorry for them.
"Are they the cause of the vortex thingy?"
"No. They're just a small time extortion coven, working over local businesses for payoffs. You know - 'pay up or we'll turn your staff into rabbits or m..make your nose turn blue'. They've had their memories wiped and they're gonna be rehabilitated. Merlin has a program in several towns far away from any hellmouths or mystical convergences."
A magical protection racket - only in Sunnydale I muse. "So does he know who he's looking for?"
Tara frowns worriedly and shakes her head. "Not really. Would you like a coffee?" She changes the subject and I take the hint.
"Yeah that would be great - but I need to call Willow and Dawn, let them know..."
Tara nearly jumps out of her skin. "No!" she half shouts and then in response to the puzzled looks bearing down on her (even the witchy mafia stop crying for a moment) adds more moderately "I m..mean you can, l..later... after coffee." She looks at me pleadingly.
"Okay but I don't want to leave it too long. They're really worried about you and really angry with me. I thought Willow was going to turn me..."
"Buffy!" Tara shrieks unexpectedly and throws her arms around me. "Sorry baby. It's just so nice seeing you - I just want to get you alone. I've missed you baby." Surprised I hug her back and then, awkwardly mindful of Tara's note and her declaration of love, start to push her away.
"Tara?" I query as the blonde clutches me tighter and presses her face against me.
"Don't mention Willow," Tara whispers vehemently in my ear. To the goons she just smiles and mutters almost inaudibly "Didn't want to embarrass her...see Buffy's my girlfriend sort of...we would appreciate a little privacy now."
The suits look disdainful and I definitely get the feeling that they do not approve of Tara's display. I'm not sure I approve either - Tara is holding me quite tightly and I have an odd feeling somewhere in the region of my abdomen that is not normally associated with being hugged by a girl.
"As you wish Miss Maclay" says the sharp suit. He and the not so sharp suit trundle off down an unmarked corridor, no doubt on their way to chisel their jaws or press their suits or whatever it is bodyguards or secret servicemen do in their off time.
Tara releases me but keeps hold of my hand. The odd abdominal feeling doesn't go away - note to self - give up anchovies. She leads me towards the open door. We walk hand in hand down a stone corridor for a few yards and climb up a circular stone stairwell - it's amazing how many ancient stone dungeons there are in California.
Tara reads my mind again. "Decor's a bit AD 500 Castles and Gardens. I think the Dark Ages was a comfortable period for him." She finally releases my hand. I smile and notice she's blushing. There's definitely a conversation that we haven't had hanging in the air.
A couple more acres of stone and we enter a circular, high-ceilinged room that continues the 'Adventures of Robin Hood' look. The room is mostly lit by wall torches and a large open fire though a little daylight shoots through two very narrow windows high on the walls. A couple of brown fur rugs that howl (at least at one time they howled) medieval are spread on the stone flags. I notice that Tara carefully walks around them. A four poster bed hung with pale cream linen drapes dominates the room. It's the only vaguely comfortable looking item of furniture.
Apart from the bed, the only places to sit are a heavy dark wooden monstrosity, large enough to accommodate a man in full armour and a small wooden footstool. The other piece of furniture present is a huge wooden chest of drawers covered in strange carvings.
"I haven't really made it a home yet," Tara says quietly taking in my ill-disguised disapproval.
"Yet? You're thinking of staying here!" I exclaim angrily. "What the hell Tara? This is crazy."
"Buffy please calm down. Shut the door and let me explain."
Biting my lip I obey, swinging the heavy wooden door shut on huge hinges. It closes silently.
"Sit over there."
Tara points to the bed. She has sat herself on the huge wooden chair which makes her look tiny, like a doll. I comply and slump down on the edge of the bed only to find that it's not nearly as soft as I had hoped and I yelp. The mattress seems to be stuffed with rocks. So far this has not been a good day. First I lose Tara and spend several hours of my life watching Willow sprinkling smelly herbs over a rat. Then I get hauled through liquified earth, in the process ruining more items in my rapidly diminishing wardobe, just to find that Tara not only doesn't need rescuing but has joined a rival team and seems to have been promoted to trusted sidekick and now I have a bruised ass to go with my bruised ego. I am a tetchy slayer.
"So explain," I grunt tetchily.
"Willow..." says Tara hesitantly.
"Yes I'm getting she has something to do with this. Could be the way you jump on me whenever I mention her name."
"Did Willow ever explain why we split up?"
"Tara I don't really have time for relationship stuff..."
"She used magic on me. Against me. To make me forget an argument we'd had."
I stare at the blonde witch. "Will wouldn't... I mean she would never hurt... I'm sure she thought..."
"She thought it was for the best? Is that what you're going to say? B..Buffy I love Willow and I know she wouldn't mean to hurt me but she did. She assaulted me Buffy."
"That's a little strong Tara."
"Is it? Would it be okay if one of your boyfriends slipped you a roofie. Would that be okay?"
"No. It wouldn't. But this is Willow. She did a wrong thing Tara but she's so sorry - I mean she hasn't told me why you left but she is really beating herself up over it. I've never seen her in such pain. There is no way she would do it again."
"Buffy she can't help herself."
"What do you mean?" I feel a chill.
"Her magic use is like an addiction. She can't stop. She is using it more and more and it's getting darker. That's why we fought. I wanted her to give it up for a while, stop using it for small things even but she wouldn't. Couldn't."
"Tara, I don't understand what you're saying..."
"She is powerful Buffy," Tara interrupts softly and there is pain in her gentle blue eyes. "Think about it. She was able to battle a hell-god; she's mastered telepathy; she even brought you back from the dead; She couldn't do those things without extraordinary power and she's totally self-taught. Those feats needed great darkness... maybe it's all m..my fault...when she battled Glory, tried to take revenge for me, all that hate..."
I can see Tara is rambling a little now but a great neon sign begins to flash above my head as I realise where she is going with this.
"You think that Willow is the source of the magical storm that brought Merlin and his flunkies here."
Tara looks down and nods.
There is silence.
Tara and I are really beginning to get the hang of these silent moments. They're hardly even awkward now. So there's a mostly non-awkward silence while I try and understand what this means. What this means for my family and friends.
"Willow's the big bad" I say experimentally trying out the words. It doesn't sound plausible.
"Not yet," Tara corrects me. "M..maybe together we can stop her."
"I can't slay Willow," I protest.
"No you can't Buffy but Merlin can and if we don't prevent her becoming evil then he will."
"I have to warn her," I say firmly, standing up. Tara's face becomes even sadder. In fact her whole body language is sucking the happiness from the room like an emotional black-hole.
"Do you think I haven't tried," Tara says very quietly. "She won't listen to me."
"You've talked to her about this! When?"
Tara is clearly bemused by my bemusement. "You don't know - I mean I called last night! About five minutes after Merlin cleared me of dark magic use. I called her..."
No way I can believe this. "But she would have told me! I didn't get back home 'til this morning. She sent me out looking for you. She spent hours transforming a rat."
"She transformed a rat!"
"Short version - I thought it was you. It wasn't. Nice girl once she calmed down - nothing to do with Merlin though. Do you think many rats in Sunnydale are actually humans?" Tara raises an eyebrow and I cough and try to focus. "Umm... back to Willow - Tara, she was worried sick. Why would she lie..." I stop and stare at Tara. "Unless she wanted me to find you."
"Or she w..wanted you to find Merlin."
I sit down again abruptly on the bed and grunt at the discomfort. "Ouch! This mattress is harder than Giles' head and even lumpier - how do you sleep on it?"
"Who said anything about sleeping?" Tara says with some feeling.
"Oooh! Do you have something to confess Miss Maclay?"
Tara blushes adorably. "No. Nothing to confess. Just bruises...I don't mean sexy bruises...just from the lumps...in the bed..."
I fake a disappointed grimace. "So no wild sex amongst the warlocks and witches..." She shakes her head and tries to hide behind her fringe. I can't resist.
"I should hope not now you're introducing me to everyone as your girlfriend."
Tara blushes an even deeper shade. "I was j..just trying to stop you talking about W..Willow."
"Why didn't you just kiss me? That's a great silencer."
Tara just looks at me and bites her trembling lip. I realise that she is actually upset.
"D..don't tease me Buffy."
"Sorry. I didn't mean...did you not mention coffee some time back?"
Tara recovers herself enough to say "Sure. There's a machine close by." She gets to her feet as I ponder the strangeness of finding a coffee machine in Braveheart central. "It's kind of a strange medieval coffee machine though," Tara adds with a small grin. She giggles and then blushes.
"This I need to see," I assert and hold out my hand to her. She looks at it and starts to reach for it but then drops her hand quickly, reminding me again of the awkwardness between us. She turns away towards the door. I have to deal with this.
"Tara. Wait. We need to talk. About feelings. Your feelings." There's another silence but this one is full-on awkward. Tara stands looking away from me, her arms wrap defensively around her own body. I push myself off the concrete mattress and stand behind her.
"It's okay Buffy. There's no problem...I'm fine. I don't expect anything." She sounds as though she is about to cry.
"That's not a 'no problem' voice" I disagree. "So I'm correct in thinking that your postscript to the note meant what it said..." Silence and her arms wrap even more tightly round herself as though trying to hold herself together. "You love me not in a friend way," I continue to probe. The silence continues. "Tara." I touch her arm and she jumps. "It's okay. I'm not going to freak."
"No it's not okay," she whispers. "I shouldn't have told you. I really didn't expect to see you again Buffy or I wouldn't have, ever. I'm sorry. I couldn't bear to think that you would never know that you were loved."
"That's fucked up."
She turns to stare at me, her cheeks blotchy and tear-stained. She's shocked.
"That's fucked up." I say again. "You want me know how you feel but only if you're going to die!"
"I didn't want you to feel..."
"Feel what? Sorry for you?" I query roughly. She flinches.
"I didn't want this" she throws back at me, almost angry. "I didn't want awkwardness and arguing and questions and yes I didn't want your pity. You're straight and it's like the most basic mistake any gay girl can make, to fall for an unobtainable straight girl especially a nice one."
"Maybe not so nice," I counter.
She gives a short disbelieving laugh. "Buffy you are maybe the kindest, most honourable person I have ever met. You define nice."
I decide to ignore that - nice is just so far from how I've felt for months. "What about Willow? Does she know about...this?" This thought has bothered me quite a lot since I read Tara's note - what if I contributed to their breakup. Another Buffy disaster in the making.
Tara is meeting my eyes now - hers are soft and tear-filled. She is earnestly explaining.
"I was attracted to you from the beginning Buffy but no more than that - not while I was with Willow. I always knew that it was capable of becoming a full-scale crush but I didn't let myself think about it. When Willow did what she did...I guess I looked to you for comfort. I felt we had both suffered and I blamed Willow for your pain too. You needed a friend and Goddess knows I did. It wasn't a big jump to love."
"You've certainly been thinking about this." This comes out snippier than intended. She nods resignedly.
I don't feel happy about her explanation. It seems dangerously like it was my fault if only because Tara was able to substitute me for Willow so readily.
"It wasn't your fault we broke up Buffy. Our problems had nothing to do with you. I mean I still love Willow and no-one can replace what she meant to me but she needs help that I can't give her."
"How do you do that?"
Tara just looks at me, obviously not knowing what I am talking about.
"You always know what I am thinking - except this time of course - but mostly."
"You are very open Buffy."
"So know me as 'open-book Buffy'. I always thought I was mysterious and deep...kind of."
She smiles tiredly. "Well then I guess I spend too much time thinking about you, w..watching you...worrying about you... I used to know what Willow was thinking but she grew away from me and I couldn't reach her."
So neatly she brings us back to Willow.
"Why didn't you tell me about Willow before. I could've talked some sense into her - you know that Willow got us all into magical trouble awhile back, just before she met you I think, and nearly joined d'Hoffryn as a vengeance demon..."
"I know. She told me about it - she thought it was funny."
"So did I...afterwards. Willow was so guilty - She made cookies every day for about four weeks. Xander got this little gut..."
"But it wasn't funny Buffy. It's who she is or who she could be."
"You're being over-dramatic."
Tara is angered by this. She steps back a little to a safe distance - somehow we had come closer and closer together. "Do you think d'Hoffryn doesn't know whom to choose as a vengeance demon? That he doesn't recognise potential?"
"Like he has some sort of job aptitude test? That's piffly Tara. He just picks on vulnerable women who have been cheated on or mistreated."
"Lots of women are cheated on Buffy. They don't all get invited to be vengeance demons. I'm a witch, like Willow, but we understand witchcraft differently. For me it's something I was b..born to, a gift, a curse sometimes, that I have to honour and treat with respect. For Willow it's like a game that she's discovering, one of those computer games with levels and power-ups. On each new level she can find new powers and has new foes to overcome."
"I know that feeling a little..."
"...but you don't enjoy it," Tara interjects and shakes her head. "Willow is like Faith."
That is too much for me. I step closer, agitated and gesturing and over-emphatic.
"No she's not. Faith's an evil uber-bitch who hurts people for fun." Talk of Faith always pisses me off. She's like this big failure that lurks around me like a bad hair-cut and now the woman who professes to love me is telling me that my best friend and my worst enemy are alike. I know I'm scowling but Tara is not intimidated.
"F..Faith is a damaged neglected unloved child without family or friends who was handed enormous power and then somehow expected to turn into a d..decent reasonable human being without any help from anyone. For you slaying is a duty and often a burden; for Faith it was a wonderful game where for the first time in her life she was always the winner - just like Willow who went from class geek to super-cool Wicca - and they have both become addicted to the power and the game. Neither knows when to stop."
That's the longest speech I have ever heard Tara deliver but I'm still scowling. See that's the reason I really hate Faith: everyone always makes me feel guilty about her because I didn't look after her and save her from her skanky self. Somehow that badly-dressed big-mouthed slut is my fault. Yeah I do have a problem with her.
"Do you have a crush on her too?" I snap childishly. A faint grin appears on Tara's face. She takes my hand and starts to rub the back of it gently.
"You couldn't help Faith and I can't help Willow."
"Honestly? I didn't want to help Faith but I do want to help Willow and I am not going to give up on her whatever you say."
Tara drops my hand.
"You think I don't want that too! I loved her more than life but that wasn't enough for her. When I left her I felt like the biggest failure that ever lived. She is the most wonderful person but watching her sliding towards the Hellmouth and not being able to stop it was too hard."
"You should have talked to me Tara."
The blonde witch nods sadly.
"I should have I guess but you weren't in great shape yourself Buffy and I just couldn't make things worse for you. I also kind of hoped that my leaving would be what she needed to pull it together."
"What the hell do we do?"
I feel frustrated. Stopping evil is usually so straightforward even if it is inhumanly powerful and apocalypsy. I kill the demon of the week. The evil ends. It's all about the slaying. Willow is my best friend. 'So what?' says a little hard slayer voice inside my head. 'You loved Angel and you killed him. You even killed yourself. Death is your gift. It's what you bring.' Thankfully Tara breaks in and interrupts my murderous inner slayer pep-talk.
"I think you should go home. Try and persuade her to talk to Giles. I know he was worried about her magic use. He wanted her to get some formal training in England but she wouldn't leave Sunnydale."
"Because of you."
"Because of you. When you died she wouldn't accept it. She wouldn't leave you in some hell dimension. I don't know why she was so convinced that's what had happened but I've never seen anyone so focused...it made me kind of jealous...and she master-minded the slaying too, kept saying she didn't want you to come back to a big old mess. She took charge of us and we performed miracles. Apart from the slaying she studied magic, researched resurrection, learnt enough robotics to fix the Buffy-Bot, looked after Dawn and Spike, comforted Giles and Xander. She was amazing: strong, caring, tireless but there was such a cost - she was relying on magic to get her through the mundane stuff and then she needed it to keep the miracles coming. She changed, became harder. I don't know what she did as the final element of the resurrection spell but whatever it was I know it was bad. She stopped talking to me about it."
"Great," I mutter dejectedly. Willow's problems are all my fault. Tara is watching me closely. She takes my hand again, her thumb slowly circles over the back.
"I say again, it's not your fault Buffy. She was so sure she could do it and we all wanted her to be right. We all wanted you back so much. Me included." Tara gives my hand a squeeze and tries to smile. I try to smile back. Neither of us does a good job I think.
"So I go home and try and talk Willow into visiting with Giles. What are you going to do?"
"Stay here. Transform rabbits. Keep watch. Give you a heads up. Pray to the Goddess that you get her away from here."
"I don't want to leave you alone here."
"I'll be okay. Merlin is a good man and I am in no danger."
"Even if he finds out about Willow and your relationship."
Tara's certainty wobbles visibly but she still manages a half-smile.
"I'll be fine."
"Come with me."
"I can't. She'll know how I feel. It might be dangerous for her and for everyone else."
"What do you mean?"
"She'll sense my feelings...about you. Now you know and she'll be able to sense the connection."
"Umm Tara...she may know already."
"You showed her the note?"
"I had to..." I start to justify myself but apparently I don't need to as Tara interrupts.
"Of course you would...why am I so stupid? Stupid and selfish and immature and stupid...I should never..."
"It's okay. Calm down. I don't think she thought that much about it - I mean it could have just been sisterly type love right?" Our eyes meet and I know one thing for sure, Dawn has never looked at me like that. The funny wanting feeling in my abdomen is back and other body parts are also sitting up and taking notice. Even my fingertips are tingling. I want to touch her face, feel her skin, stroke her hair. And, this is getting crazy, I want to kiss her.
Tara drops her eyes.
"I d..don't think Willow is that...dumb."
She looks at me again and there is fire in her blue eyes. Her breasts are rising and falling in sync with her deepening breathing. My own is rough and unsteady, I've felt less puffed after fighting nests of vampires however I'm the slayer and action is my thing so I act. One step forward. Not much action but my limbs are only barely obeying me.
Tara steps forward shakily so we are only inches apart, I can feel her warmth. We are staring at each other fearful and wanting. The yearning in my lower stomach has refocused as a taut need. Very slowly I reach out to take each of her hands in mine. She pulls slightly and I have to tighten my grip to hang on.
"You can't..."
"I can't what?"
"Want this," and she bends the last few inches to graze my lips with hers before raising her head to stare into my eyes again.
"Oh I want," I growl and wrap my arms around her neck, pulling her lips back down to mine.
tbc
NOTES: This is a Buffy/Tara fic set in season six. It is a more cheerful fic than the eps in season six might warrant. No need to say that really, 'cause amputation of your leg without an anaesthetic would be a more cheerful experience than most of season six!
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
CREDIT: Anyone who is still reading this!
PREVIOUSLY:
Buffy has found Tara in Merlin's castle. It turns out that Tara was not imprisoned by Merlin but has actually joined forces with him in finding Witches and Warlocks who have gone bad. Tara has also warned Buffy that Willow has been abusing her magical powers and is the source of a great magical vortex that Merlin is hunting and that Willow is in a lot of danger.
Buffy is also disconcerted to find that she has feelings for Tara that are not simply those of a friend!
AND NOW:
"Are you sure Merlin isn't going to chain me up somewhere?" I ask uncertainly. Tara is taking me to meet the great man and I still can't quite accept that he is one of the good guys.
"Yes I'm sure." Tara, who has been leading me by the hand, pauses and glances over her shoulder. "Do you want to be t…tied up? Normally I don't do that until the third date."
"Tara!" I protest and she breaks down in quiet giggles. I put on my most intimidating slayer face which kinda works as she looks a little worried and stutters "I d..didn't mean to…" and that makes me pulls her close and we kiss and cuddle for a minute. I am still a little freaked by kissing my best friend's ex and a girl at that but the freak-out to lust ratio is dropping all the time.
"I wasn't really..." Annoyed I was going to say but Tara interrupts.
"I mean who knew?" she says and I can hear the smile creeping into her voice "...that the Slayer is a prude?" One look at my outraged glare and she takes off running.
"I am not! I'll show you just how unprudish I am Ms McClay." I chase after her along the twisting stone corridors and, just as I am about to catch her and take my revenge in some way that I haven't yet decided, she comes to a sudden stop rounding a corner and there's a collision and we both end up in an ungracious heap on the stone flags.
"Eek! Unh!" is Tara as I knock the legs from under her.
"Ouch!" That is my head hitting a boulder protruding from the wall. "Oof!" that's me again as Tara lands on my stomach.
"Good afternoon my ladies," says a high pitched male voice. I peek up from underneath Tara's elbow and after adjusting my gaze downwards, about three foot lower than where an adult face should be, I meet the concerned gaze of a very old hobbit. I know this is a hobbit because only two weeks ago Xander forced me to go with him to see a marathon session of that ring thing. Anya had refused on the grounds that one of the evil Orcs reminded her of one of her many exes and it was too painful. Dawn laughed in my face. Willow who can normally be relied on to manage Xander's geek-out sessions was out of town so that left me to sleep through the ten hours of interminable swordplay and I can get that at home. There were lots of pretty guys to watch however so it wasn't a total bust.
As I relapse into a mini daydream about Vigo Mortensen and the sweet guy who nearly gets burnt alive by his father, the hobbit meantime is helping Tara to her feet.
"We were umm just practising..." she mutters red-faced and shy and gorgeous. All the heroic actor-boys flee my brain. I sit up as she clambers off me. I miss the weight of her body already and realise that I am incredibly aroused.
"Practicing what?" squeaks the tiny man. He is dressed in what appears to be one of Giles' bath-robes, the ones he thought made him look sophisticated but actually didn't. In the little guy's case the robe is around his ankles and flowing along the ground behind him. He looks more sophisticated in it than Giles ever did.
I clear my throat and try to sound nonchalant which isn't that easy when you suspect there might be a large bump swelling inelegantly on your forehead and you have just discovered that you might be enormously gay, not just a little hand-holding and smooching with your BFF kinda-gay which you had rather been hoping.
"Running away. It's an essential skill in our line of work. We definitely need the practise…"
"I see," he says doubtfully, staring at my forehead. I know for sure now that there's something, probably ugly and eye-catching, and certainly painful, bulging above my left eye. I poke it carelessly and wince.
"Merlin this is B..Buffy Summers, the Slayer."
"This little guy is Merlin?" I exclaim and bite my tongue but too late. Winning friends and influencing people - it's a Buffy speciality. "Of course you are Merlin, I mean obviously you are Merlin," I say and now I sound too friendly like I'm his biggest fan. Play it cool Buffy. "It's the voice...yeah...I recognise it from the other night…So…Hi…Nice to meet you at last without the dragons…or are they pets?" And the stupid is back.
Merlin draws himself up to his full three foot height. "When you have reached my age Mistress Summers you too may be a little shrunken. Why are you here?"
"I was worried about Tara. Going missing like that."
"I thought that you had communicated with your friends Tara," he says reprovingly.
"I did, but the m..message didn't get to Buffy."
"Well I'm a busy slayer - I don't always pick up my messages." I am not about to apologise to this mini-Giles.
"Well I think two of my knights would have been happier if you had picked up your messages." He wags a crooked old finger and I find myself apologising after all.
"Umm…sorry about that. A misunderstanding…you know how it is…what with the kidnapping and the dragging through the earth thing. Are they okay?" I ask politely though I really could care less about the fate of his heavies.
"Just concussed, contused and confused," says Merlin who then starts chortling to himself. I am not sure what chortling is exactly but it has to be something like the noise the little guy is making, accompanied as it is by strange tiny facial tics that might be smirking in hobbit-land. I guess he's made a joke. Giles would probably have liked it I think sadly. I miss Giles.
"I have to go home," I say too quickly, getting to my feet. Tara glances at me and I can see her trying to read my mood. "it's okay...I'm okay but I need to get back and see Wi..Wi..Dawn."
"That's an unusual stammer Mistress Summers," Merlin says evenly but there is a glass edge in his shrill voice that wasn't there before. I feel a certain professional respect for his alertness. My brain leaps into action to try and explain my slip. Fifteen seconds later I wish my brain had stayed asleep.
"I call her Wimpy at home and sometimes it just slips out. You know it's like a pet name not that I think teenagers need pet names but she is my sister. Dawn would kill me if she heard me use it in public. Did you know that Dawn's my sister? My younger sister. Yep she is. My little sister and I have to…to go back…home that is…and…er…check on her…Wimpy."
I close my eyes if only to avoid seeing Tara staring at me. Why could I not stop speaking? I'm sure it can't be that hard - other people do it - people who are not soon to be widely known as Buffy the Motormouth and voted person least likely to be able to keep a secret.
"Younger siblings can be a trial." Merlin agrees, nodding sagely though for some reason I don't see him with little brother and sister hobbits waiting at home in a little hobbit house. "You must go then and ensure that Mistress Wimpy is safe," he says mischievously as I wince but there is still some tension in his wizened gaze…or do I mean wizard gaze. Focus Buffy. He has sensed I am lying. Tara must be right I am an open book, well that and a babbling fool! Of course he knows I'm lying - I can only hope that he thinks it is some 'girl' thing.
"Right…I'll be off then…soon…leaving that is. Umm Tara, can I have a word."
"Of course," Merlin says affably now, beaming, "You wish to kiss your lady fair goodbye. Do not mind me young slayer. I like to see young love."
Tara sees the irritation on my face and rapidly steps between Merlin and myself.
"I'll w..walk you out Buffy. Thank you Merlin."
She grabs my arm and tows me away before I can complain about not wanting some pervy ancient guy watching me kiss Tara. As we round the corner she bursts into giggles to the extent that she can't speak although she continues to pull me along.
"What is so funny?"
"WImpy…" she gasps through exploding giggles and snorts.
"Good name for her but you are never to tell her. Ever."
"Cross my heart," she whispers and then stops and places my hand on her chest. I can feel the beat of her heart under my fingers.
"It's very fast," I note aloud. "All that running and sniggering at poor Buffy…"
"No. This is you Buffy. B..because you're near and because you're going to kiss me." Her blue eyes have darkened and my pulse picks up a rapid stutter in response. I push her back a little so she is against the wall and draw her head down to reach my lips. Again it feels weird but right. For a few long seconds we kiss slowly, giving and taking; it's not that different from kissing a boy I suppose except that it is. I tighten my hold and my body is telling me even more strongly that it wants way more than this when she lifts her head a little, nipping at my lower lip before finishing with a very gentle kiss.
"I'll see you soon. Call me."
"Come back with me," I beg her again. "I don't want to leave you here."
"It would not be safe Buffy. Not yet. Now go!" She waves her hand at a small studded wooden door in the wall and it swings open. A flood of California sun-beams push through the opening, scattering light and shadows on the grey stone walls. The space immediately feels warmer.
I duck out through the low entrance and straighten up in the full heat of the sun; I'm expecting Tara to follow but the wooden door swings shut and then I can't see it anymore. In fact I can't see anything other than the stretch of dirty white scrub-land towards the horizon a dirt track road and a low rising rocky escarpment. There is no sign of a medieval stone castle.
"Tara!"
There's no answer. I stare at the empty space in front of me and tentatively feel around in case the castle is invisible but there is nothing to feel except the heated air rising off the desert sand and rock.
"Damn," I swear. Reluctantly and feeling very uneasy I turn to leave before realising that I haven't the slightest clue about which direction I should walk. Plus I am definitely not wearing the right shoes for hiking in the desert.
Without warning a large green neon sign with an arrow appears in front of me. 'SUNNYDALE. Five miles and turn left at the canyon.'
Wondering who could be watching me I glance round nervously. The sign changes to a large flashing red heart. I start to smile but then a pair of sneakers hit me on the head as though dropped from a great height.
"Ow!"
The sign changes again, blinking slowly blue. 'SORRY!'
"S'okay," I say to the sign feeling a little dumb and not sure if she can hear me. There is no reply and the sign fades away.
I sit down on a rock to change into the sneakers. A gangly bird on long legs, and with an even longer tail that is pointing straight up at the sky, is looking at me and for some reason I think it is waiting for me. It pokes about a little in the scrub but keeps watching me until I stand up. When I do, the bird walks a few feet in the direction of Sunnydale and then stops to glance at me, angling its head curiously on one side so it can watch me from one eye. I suppose it has been sent here to lead me home. That's really cute though an SUV with air-con would have been nice too. I follow on and the bird starts to run. It's a quick little thing and before I know it I am charging along in its wake at a full slayer gallop, panting to keep up. Annoyed and sweating I slow down to a fast walk. The bird looks disapproving when it realises I have dropped back but slows too, staying just ahead of me.
A dark smudge is visible on the highway and I realise after a few seconds of squinting through perspiration and a swirling heat-haze, that it is a parked car. I trot towards it and can see at least one person leaning against the side of the vehicle; a woman I think.
"Hello," I call. The figure straightens up and shades her eyes to look at me. She looks sort of familiar. Then I know.
"Erm..Will? Is that you? Wow! It is you!," I call a little too enthusiastically. "This is great. Just who I wanted to see…the very person…couldn't be better."
Willow grins at me and waves and I relax. She doesn't look evil, in fact she looks just like she always has, my best friend and most loyal supporter. The running bird is standing beside me watching Willow curiously. Willow sees it and I suddenly have a very bad feeling. She walks to meet me and her expression has changed from goofy friend to…scary not-friend! Oh my lord. Tara is right. I see Willow mumble a few words and the bird beside me squeaks and then poof, a whisper of smoke. But the bird hasn't disappeared into thin air. It's been roasted just like in a cartoon. I stare in horror at the small brown carcass lying on the highway. The fact that it smells good too makes me want to throw up.
"Willow! What the hell?"
"A spy," Willow says casually. "You've seen Tara?" she asks not dwelling in the moment. I however have a distinct need to dwell in the moment. In fact the moment has me setting up house and moving in forever.
"You killed it!"
"You kill things too," Willow points out reasonably. She's still smiling but now I realise it's creepy, a creepy smile and not at all like my shy and sweet-natured best friend.
"Yeah! Things!" I exclaim angrily. "Demons. Not harmless little animals."
"I don't think it was harmless. Probably not even an animal."
"God!" I yell. "It was human?!?"
"Possibly," Willow agrees without raising her voice. "Whatever. Can we move on from our formerly feathered friend now?"
"How can you just say 'whatever'? Willow what is wrong with you?"
"Wrong with me! You're asking now? I mean why take an interest in me now Buffy? You never have before. But of course I'm all 'evil' now." She makes those irritating little rabbit ear signs as she drawls the word evil and rolls her eyes. "Well I don't have time for your bourgeois morality Buffy. Where is Tara?"
"Safe from you," I answer too quickly. Something like grief is swelling inside me. Willow was a part of my family and I've lost her like everyone else to the fucking bad guys. The knowledge is almost intolerable.
"Well you're not safe from me Buffy so I suggest you tell me where Tara is before I forget that we're friends."
I feel cold despite the burning heat of the desert. I can hear the hunting cry of the First Slayer calling me to slay the evil one. I tell it to shut up and let me think.
"You're my best friend Will. I'm not going to forget that but I won't lead you to Tara."
"It's her fault you know," Willow snaps petulantly. "She left me to cope on my own. I mean she just walked away from me."
"You abused her Will. She had no choice."
"Of course she had a choice. She should have stayed with me and none of this would have happened. I would have changed with her help. But she didn't want to help me because she wanted someone else. She wanted you, the glorious slayer."
"That's not true. Tara loved you, she just didn't know how to cope with your magic use. And you've changed. Believe me."
Willow scowls at me. The heart-to-heart is over apparently. She turns and waves at the car and another figure gets out and comes towards us. It's Amy. I should have guessed she was involved.
"Hi Buffy," she says almost normally but I can see she is frightened, terrified even. And she has reason it turns out, as before she can say another word and before I can deliver the witty comeback, she has dropped to her knees in the red dust, apparently choking. Willow just watches stone-faced.
"Stop it Willow."
"I know there's no point in torturing you Buffy. All that slayer courage - you would never crack. But it's different watching someone else suffer isn't it?"
Amy is on the ground, writhing and making sad little grunting noises.
"I don't care about her Willow. You're wasting your time. Let her go before you lose your only minion. Hard to come by good minions."
"Well you would know Buffy. That's all Xander and I ever were to you. A couple of stupid minions. But you're not fooling me - I know you won't let Amy die even if you don't like her."
"That's not true. About the minion stuff. You and Xander are my friends. I love both of you."
"Where's Tara." Willow has lost interest in our angsty conversation and is back to business.
By this time I am really worried about Amy. She has gone blue and is almost still, clutching her throat. "Look I don't know. I really don't know. There was a castle but it disappeared."
"Where?"
I reason to myself that Merlin is quite capable of hiding himself and Tara from Willow.
"Alright it's about a mile up the road. But there's nothing to see. NOW LET HER GO!"
"Nothing for you maybe - I will find her." Willow looks briefly at Amy and the fallen girl relaxes from the contorted position she was lying in and begins to draw huge shuddering breaths. "Still alive," Willow notes calmly. She looks up, suddenly perplexed. I hear it too. A sound like gathering thunder, growing in volume. We both look towards the source of the noise. There's something in the distance, glinting brutally bright in the harsh sunlight. Something coming very fast.
"The cavalry I believe. Not that they will arrive in time to save you. You have stolen Tara from me Buffy and I'm not going to forgive that."
She raises her hand and begins to wave it while muttering in a strange and unpleasant language. I look around for somewhere to hide but there's nothing higher than my ankle. I look into her eyes that are dark with madness and see nothing that reminds me of my friend. Oh well…She brought me back to life and I guess it is fitting that she should send me back into death. I straighten up, shrug and prepare for my third death. The muttering pauses. Willow has probably just realised that death is not much of a threat where I'm concerned and perhaps she finds this disappointing. Then I realise that she's staring wide-eyed at the remains of the bird she roasted earlier. It is starting to glow and it is getting bigger. Much bigger.
"Merlin!" she swears and runs off toward the car. Amy who has been sitting with her head between her knees also gets to her feet and staggers after Willow. I guess it's better the psychopathic, evil monster you know than the one you don't.
I'm at a loss. If this is a magical booby trap then I need to make with the running but where to run to. Following the witchy Bonnie and Clyde is not an option as their car is already roaring away down the highway, and then there's the shining thunder of God knows what bearing down on me from the South. My indecision lasts less than a second but it's less than a second too long. There is a flash and I am knocked onto my suffering backside.
"Dear God what an extraordinary sensation. Utterly impossible to describe," says a very familiar fussy voice.
"Giles," I squeal leaping to my feet to hurl myself on top the materialised form of my former watcher. A few burnt feathers drift in the rising heat. Too late I realise that it's a butt-naked Giles that I am hugging. "Ewww! No clothes." I roll off as quickly as I leapt on and stand back up, looking anywhere but at him.
"Buffy please...I believe you've perforated my eardrum."
"But what are you doing here? And why have you no clothes? Gross Giles!"
"Yes…sorry about my…er…undress. Sadly clothes are not included in the transformation process, as I am sure you remember from your time as a rat. And I'm afraid I could not delay any longer if I was going to stop Willow from her nefarious…"
"But you were roasted!" Forgetting for an instant, I glance quickly at him, he is getting up, and I almost bite my tongue off trying to suppress another squeal at the sight of all that pink flesh and…dear God…buttocks! This is more horrifying than anything that has happened to me in my life including two deaths.
"I was quite safe thanks to this rather effective amulet actually. Made for me specially by the Devon Sistren Coven. Quite remarkable - like having nine lives or actually four as it is..."
"Giles why are you here. And if you have an amulet then why not boxer shorts."
"Stop obsessing about my unclothed state Buffy. I will explain everything later. Your other rescue party is arriving. A little late of course." Giles sounds smug but unconcerned about the approaching cloud of dust despite his lack of clothing. I more than make up for his lack of concern - the California Highway Patrol are not known for their sense of humour or tolerance for nude Brits.
Then the loud noise is upon us and it is exactly as Willow had said, the cavalry are here - nine knights in polished steel armour on enormous horses. They do not even blink at the sight of a naked man on the highway. It occurs to me that they are all Brits like Giles and maybe this is how everyone behaves in England. Note to self: stay away from England as not good place for sensitive young slayers.
"Where is the witch?" asks one of the knights urgently. I avoid his eye since I recognise him as one of the suited goons I put out of commission early in the day, plus I don't really want to send them after Willow. She is my problem. Giles doesn't seem to share my scruples.
"That way," he says pointing in the direction in which Willow and Amy had driven.
"Thank you sir," called one of the knights as they turned their horses down the highway. One throws a blanket to Giles. They then gallop off at high speed in pursuit of Willow.
"Giles, you sent them after Willow. I know she's evil…"
Giles is wrapping the homespun brownish-green blanket around himself like a toga. He looks like an extra from Braveheart. The look rather suits him.
"Buffy, they are on horseback, each having the power of one horse. Willow is in a Mitsubishi with the power of 130 horses. They are very unlikely to catch her. I feel this is one area that Merlin could usefully modernise if he is to keep up with the modern witch."
"You sound like you know him."
"Our paths have crossed."
"Share," I prompt, sensing a story.
"It was an unhappy incident in my youth. I would prefer to leave the memory there." Giles has started walking along the road. I quickly catch him up, not that it takes much effort. Giles is clearly finding the hot tarmac very uncomfortable under his bare feet which I am so not looking at because they make me all too aware that he is totally bare under that flimsy blanket. I have reassured myself for years that Giles is composed entirely of layers of tweed like a rag doll and is totally lacking any naughty human bits. The trauma of discovering so emphatically otherwise has not got any less in the last sixty seconds. Perhaps Tara is right and I'm a prude - I need to be more grown-up. Giles is still hopping along bravely.
"Doesn't that amulet-thingy protect your feet?" See I managed to say something about his bare feet without gagging. More grown-up already. Giles just sighs.
"It protects me from magical attack Buffy. Not blisters."
"I've missed you Giles," I say happily. It's amazing how tired sarcasm from Giles can make me feel better already. Giles glances down at me and smiles awkwardly.
"Well. That's umm…I have quite missed you too actually. After you, you know…"
"Died?"
"Yes. That. Well life was less…"
"Less what?"
"Just less," he says gruffly and changes the subject. "We need to plan how we are going to free Willow from the Whiffle possession."
I stop walking to exclaim "Willow's possessed?"
"Yes of course she's possessed, by a Whiffle demon I'm certain. Surely you didn't think that Willow would try and kill you." Giles looks astonished and I feel mortified as that was exactly what I'd thought."
"So Willow's magic addiction is all down to some demon called a Whiffle - sounds kinda cute."
"Whiffles are not cute," Giles answers emphatically and again he seems surprised at my ignorance although why he of all people should be surprised by Buffy's empty store-o'-knowledge I don't know. "And no," he adds impatiently. "The Whiffle did not create her addiction. Willow's obsession with magic was the key that allowed the demon to enter her soul and take over."
"Enter her soul!" This does not sound good. Then something else occurs to me - if Whiffles are common knowledge…"So why doesn't Merlin know about this Whiffle demon? I mean Tara was really afraid for Willow, she was sure Merlin would kill her if he found her."
"Most likely," Giles agrees chillingly. "As I said before some of Merlin's methods are a little outdated. And some of his attitudes make his methods look modern." I'm getting the strong impression that Giles, in that stuffy British way of his, definitely dislikes Merlin. I notice that Giles is shuffling from foot to foot - perhaps they are really hurting - but then he asks the 64k question.
"Buffy, I need to ask you about Tara," he says quickly then stops just as quickly and goes to polish his spectacles before realising that he doesn't have any. He is looking anywhere other than at me and is blushing redder than the red sand of the desert all around us, like a chameleon trying to disappear and I guess that's how he feels too. "Are you involved with Tara…I mean...umm romantically…or sexually...?"
I don't answer. Partly because I don't see why it is any of Giles' business and partly because I'm not really sure what the answer is; instead I stare really hard at a cactus by the roadside, which by the way is totally gross and looks like a giant deformed traffic cop directing traffic. By this time neither Giles or I are looking at the other and this bit of the desert is getting some pretty intense scrutiny.
Bravely Giles tries again.
"Buffy I wouldn't normally pry into your personal life but this is important."
I take a deep breath and stare even more fixedly at the ugly traffic-directing cactus. "I guess romantic might describe…I mean she likes me and I like her more than just…we kissed and it was nice, really nice...but no sexy stuff…definitely no sex…well not yet…and may be never…not even sure how…okay I kinda know but the details…I mean what…"
"Enough," Giles croaks. "Thank you Buffy. We can…umm…work with that."
"Giles what are you talking about?" I manage to look at him.
He straightens up and I can see that he is going to deliver a lecture. Nothing relaxes Giles like delivering a big speech.
"The Whiffle demon is a vile parasite; it finds a person who is already weakened by some obsession or addiction, enters his or her soul and then manipulates his or her weakness forcing its victim into more and more self-destructive behaviour. It then feeds on the host's own guilt and despair. The demon drives the host to greater depths: a drug addict thieves from his family; a gambler embezzles her employer's money; a middle-aged man cheats on his wife; an alcoholic hurts her children."
"Not everyone who does those things is possessed," I object.
"No," Giles agrees. "The demon finds people who are innately decent but have some weakness. It needs their guilt to feed upon. A wicked person would not be of any value to the Whiffle demon."
"How do we kill it?" This is the part that interests me.
"They are easy to kill," he says and I am satisfied until the inevitable 'but' arrives, "but only once they have left the host."
Next obvious question. "So how do we make it do that?"
"The Whiffle demon only leaves the host for the final feeding when the host's despair is complete. Usually the host is dying or is about to kill himself. At this point the host's soul is a delicacy as far the Whiffle is concerned. Anyway it has to leave before death else it would die with the host which is of course an alternative way of killing a Whiffle. Simply murder the host."
I stare at Giles. I hardly even notice that one shoulder of his blanket has slipped down.
"That is obviously not an option," he says, his brow wrinkling impatiently. "Our plan must be to force the demon to leave Willow before she dies which will be neither easy nor pleasant. Willow is a perfect victim for a Whiffle: she is gentle, good-hearted, gullible and enormously powerful. The Whiffle will not want to give her up nor release her to death too soon. I have no doubt its objective is to capture Tara, you and probably Xander too and then force her to torment all of you to death or madness. However we may be able to speed up the process and then kill the demon when it leaves."
I have a very bad feeling about where Giles is going with this. "What exactly are you suggesting?"
Giles looks very serious. "I am suggesting that we destroy the happiness of our friend by utilising the demon's own plan against her, by forcing Willow to kill Tara."
TBC.