summary:

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.

disclaimer:

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.

warnings:

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.

text:

=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