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.