"Bing."
Willow's beleaguered brain acknowledged the sound, but she shifted her head further into the crook of her arm in response.
"Bing." There it was again, an unnaturally happy electronic interjection disturbing her rest.
"Ugh." The redheaded witch issued a grumpy moan.
Willow finally lifted her head from where she'd placed it sometime in the early, early morning. Cracking one eyelid, she peered out at the world. Her eyes eventually came into focus on her computer screen, where a text box outlined in grey flashed merrily, indicating that the program she'd been running was complete; this fact helped to rouse her more completely, and she hastily clicked on the box to view the results of her search. A dull weight settled in the pit of her stomach as she scanned the screen, and then a familiar voice interrupted her reading.
"Willow Rosenberg, were you here all night?"
Willow looked over the monitor at Buffy who was standing in the doorway to the room, her arms crossed over the front of her. She was still wearing a pale blue 3/4 length coat, leading Willow to conclude that she'd just returned home. Realizing that Buffy was waiting for an answer, she replied evasively, "Why would you think that?" And glanced back at her computer screen.
"Willow!"
"What?" She questioned distractedly, and heard a giggle. The hacker fixed her gaze upon a very amused Buffy. "What?" She repeated, puzzled, and the blonde grinned even more broadly.
"You have 'keyboard face'."
"Oh." She said, the utterance turning into a full fledged yawn as she stretched. Buffy glided over to her side as she worked out the kinks in her shoulders from being hunched over her computer too long. A small smile graced her lips as she finished loosening her muscles, and regarded Buffy.
"How was patrol?"
The slayer shrugged, "A few late risers, never knew what hit 'em. It's been pretty quiet since Adam cleaned house and the Initiative shut down."
Willow grinned slyly, "So, then did ya have to take a little Initiative of your own?"
The blonde glanced down, a light glow spreading across her cheeks, "Yes, Riley went with me." She immediately turned the tables, "But, I want to know is what was so important that you decided to spend the night in arms of your silicon Casanova?"
Willow sobered immediately, and angled the monitor towards the slayer.
The blonde leaned forward over the witch's shoulder, the front page of The Daily Gazette for any one of an infinite number of towns in the U.S. stared back at her. She wasn't certain what she was supposed to be seeing, until Willow began reading an article aloud.
"… neither body was recovered and the house which has been a familiar marker on the landscape for over a 100 years was destroyed in the unusually localized earthquake. The wake for Matthew Jacob and mother, Sarah Marie will be held on Sunday, daughter Tara is expected to be recovered sufficiently to attend. Both siblings were to celebrate their birthdays this coming Saturday, having the unusual distinction of sharing the same birthdate, albeit 4 years apart…"
Buffy was stunned, "Tara? Your Tara, 'Tara'?"
Willow nodded stiffly, staring straight forward at the screen.
Buffy rested her head against one of the redhead's shoulders, and wrapped her arm around the other. "What does this mean?"
Willow sighed and leaned against the blonde, "We need to talk to Giles."
"Do you know what this means?!" Giles questioned excitedly, as he turned the book Willow had brought him over in his hands.
Buffy shrugged, "No. Do you?"
The British man seemed momentarily nonplussed, "Well, no, not exactly." His fervor dimmed slightly, "I'll require s few hours to locate and translate the key portions of the text. However… " He regained some of his previous enthusiasm, "… the title alone is reason for excitement. I believe this is the opening we've been hoping for, one that will assist us in preventing the prophecy from being fulfilled."
"So, what's the title?" The slayer questioned logically.
The Watcher gave a delighted smile and rotated the book so that the cover faced him. "The Collected Works on the Demon Kalos" He translated.
"Sounds promising." Buffy admitted.
Giles continued beaming triumphantly for a moment longer, and then clearing his throat, resumed his more reserved demeanor, "And you say that this book was among Tara's possessions?" He directed his question at Willow who had remained unusually quiet upon delivering the book.
The redhead answered with obvious discomfort, "Actually, it was kinda on top of her possessions." She paused, then added, "Along with this picture." Willow opened the knapsack she'd brought with her and produced the photo. She handed the image to the older man, "It's her family." She stated in a tight hush.
Giles scrutinized the picture, and then looked up quizzically, asking for an explanation.
Instead, Willow handed him a sheet of paper, "I printed this out this morning." It was a copy of the newspaper article she'd located. Buffy put a gentle hand on the witch's shoulder as they waited for Giles to read the highlighted portions.
The Watcher scanned through the material and whispered in amazed revelation to himself, "The two-fold anniversary…" When he was finished, Giles placed both the article and the framed photo down in the picture window between his kitchen and the living room. He took a few hesitant steps in one direction, pulling off his glasses, before facing the two girls again. "But the article indicates that her brother is deceased."
"They never found the body." Buffy pointed out.
"And we can't ignore the coincidences." Willow said sadly.
"No. I suppose we can't." He conceded, tapping his lip pensively with the frame of his glasses.
The sound of the front door openly caused all three to turn sharply. Xander and Anya entered together, followed by Riley a few steps behind. Xander stopped in front of Giles and observing their collective disposition he asked a question that cut right to the heart of the matter, "What's with the glum?"
"So, let me get this right…" Xander leaned forward from the couch, his elbows propped on his knees, "… we're no longer batting zero on the Kalos demon front, cuz now we've got this book that was just lying out in the middle of nowhere, with-- a picture no less, which has led us to the conclusion that Willow's girlfriend and her girlfriend's brother are going to be part of some bitter ex-angel's bid to destroy the world. And-- let's not forget the bonus round, that the brother is supposed to have been killed 10 years ago."
"Well, at least we've come up with something." Willow muttered unhappily, wilting back into the cushions of the couch.
Xander, in his seat beside the redheaded Wiccan, patted his stomach through his red-striped shirt, "I don't know about you, but I think I'm coming down with something… memo to self: do not eat cold pizza that has been left unattended for more than 24 hours. Especially pizza of the four cheese variety." He glared at the last slice of pizza that sat in a box on the coffee table, leftover from the previous day's research party.
"This is futile." Anya declared authoritatively from her arm chair. "We're all going to die."
"I hope that's not the popular vote." Riley remarked with an easy grin, sprawled in the other chair. He looked up at Buffy, who was sitting on the arm of his chair, for her input.
"Willow's right. We've got something concrete now, we should focus on that."
Anya rolled her eyes, "What you've 'got', is a whole lot of nothing. You don't know where Tara is, you don't know where Metus is, and you don't know how to stop the prophecy. And on top of everything, all this stress is making it impossible for me to get any sleep."
Xander reached out and grasped his girlfriend's hand in solidarity, "I second that emotion. I've been having nothing but nightmares."
Giles, who had been pacing in his kitchen nook with his head buried in the book Willow had brought him, jerked his head up at Xander's declaration.
"Look…" Buffy interjected, "… we've all been having nightmares, and I know they're mucho disturbing, but what we need to do--" The Slayer suddenly noticed Giles' rigid state of attention. "What?"
The ex-Watcher's mouth was a thin line as he flipped through the pages of the book, back to the table of contents and then translated aloud, "Chapter 8: A History of Nightmares and the Demon Metus. " He shut the book with a satisfying snap, "I believe we've found a way to locate Metus."
Buffy stood in the centre of the bedroom, bathed in the curtain-filtered light of early evening, and her arms crossed in displeasure, "I don't like this."
"I think we caught that after the first dozen times you told us." Xander deadpanned. "But it never hurts to hear it again." He added hastily as the blonde pinned him with a look that threatened evisceration.
"I should be the one to do this. Need I remind you, I'm The Slayer."
Giles adjusted his glasses, "We've already cast the spell of lucidity during sleep, and as I've explained Buffy, while you may be best equipped to deal with Metus in the physical sense, you cannot fight him until we locate him in the corporeal world. As a witch, Willow is best qualified to deal with him on an immaterial plane."
"But you said this guy could be working his mojo from anywhere." She countered.
"True, but traditionally, workers of this kind of magic tend to remain close to their victims. And, as the date of eclipse is almost upon us, it is likely that Metus is in the immediate vicinity of Sunnydale."
"Or he could be in the middle of Siberia chanting his little demon butt off and sending his negative vibes via remote."
"Buffy." At that gentle interruption, everyone turned to listen to the person who had the greatest stake in what they were discussing, and who, so far, they'd been ignoring.
Willow was sitting patiently on her bed, her legs folded underneath her. Her expression was serene, and she had changed into two-piece burgundy pajamas though it was the middle of the day. "Giles, Xander, could we have a minute?"
"Certainly, Willow. Let me know when you're ready." Giles made to exit the room, waiting by the door to make sure Xander preceded him. The blonde remained standing rigidly in the middle of the bedroom.
"Buffy…" Willow began again when the door clicked shut, "… you know I have to do this." She pleaded softly for understanding, "My life has been on hold for weeks now, and I can't keep living like this, not if I have a choice." Her voice quavered as her thoughts turned to Tara. She had to know what had happened to the blonde witch, and finding Metus could be the only way to discover that. "Buffy…" She whispered. "… I have to do this…" Willow waited, her eyes glistening, but relentless as she regarded her best friend.
Buffy fidgeted uncomfortably and eventually acknowledged in a small voice, "I know." Her stiff posture melted and the blonde sat down beside her friend. Willow snaked an arm around her upper body, and Buffy let her head rest on the girl's shoulder as she gave a defeated sigh, "But that doesn't mean I have to like it." Willow held Buffy tightly, both of them drawing strength from the other, until they finally parted.
"I'll send Giles in." Buffy stood up slowly, but as she was leaving she looked over her shoulder. "Be careful." She cautioned with a worry borne out of affection.
"Now, I want you to relax, but you can't fall asleep, not entirely at any rate." Giles paced purposefully.
"Uh, Giles? Usually when I'm trying to relax, but not fall entirely asleep… I don't have some British guy narrating." Willow mentioned from her place under her covers.
The ex-Watcher stopped pacing and blinked, somewhat discomfited, "Quite. But, you do know what to do?"
Willow grinned, "You betcha." She stated confidently, and then less confidently, "At least, I think I do." A puzzled expression stole over her face, "Uh, do we really even have a plan?"
"I dare say… not."
"Oh."
"However, since we are short on time, confronting Metus and attempting to glean some information appears to be the best course of action." Giles' words sounded mildly uncertain even to himself.
"Right. Confront and glean. Confront and glean." Willow chanted to herself.
Giles smiled fondly at the witch, softening his composure. "Be careful." He admonished.
Willow grinned, "Same tune, different record." She closed her eyes determinedly.
Giles knotted his brow in bewilderment, and then approached Willow and tenderly tucked the covers around her small frame. She mumbled sleepily, smacking her lips together, and rolled on her side. Confront and glean…
Cold. She was so cold, had she ever been warm? She must have, no one could live indefinitely with this chill, this icy finger that stole the heat from her limbs and bore into her chest, threatening to stop her heart. How can it continue beating? Why doesn't it just stop? Then, the pain would be over. But she knew why. He won't let me die, he needs me. Though those answers were true, she sensed that they weren't enough; there was another reason why her heart refused to still, it's not my decision, my heart beats for another. With that realization, she became aware that the path for a fleeting release from the relentless cold lay open to her. She took it, whispering the key to her salvation. Willow…
She was in a cold dark place, where the light of day had never shone. I remember this. I've been here before. A flood of images assailed her as dreams only half-recalled came rushing back to her, but they were enough for her to conclude that she was in the right place. She blinked. So, now what? Giles seemed to think that simply revealing herself would be the magnet to draw Metus to her, but she wasn't as…
Willow…
Her thoughts froze as she heard her name being spoken far in the distance, like an echo, now fading.
She heard it again, and then closer, right beside her ear, a different voice.
"Willow." A giggle followed, laced with evil intent.
She felt a frisson of fear climbing the ladder of her spine. Suppressing her dread, she challenged the darkness. "I know who you are." She stated, keeping her voice even.
Her defiance elicited another giggle.
"So, when will we know if the magic's up to snuff?" Xander asked from his seat at the table in the kitchen of Buffy and Willow's house. Occupying the other three seats were Anya, Riley and The Slayer herself, who responded,
"Giles is keeping watch. He'll let us know." She meant to be reassuring, but the worry in her tight reply was reflected in all their faces.
Giles was sitting in the chair he'd commandeered from the office down the hall, his head bowed over the book Willow had given him. One eye was devoted to keeping the vigil on his young charge, while the other was scanning the Greek text as quickly as possible. But a moment later, as he read, and re-read particular section of the tome, both eyes widened visibly and his mouth grew uncomfortably dry. "And if the light destroys the dark… but one must kill the other…" He looked up suddenly, "I've got to tell the others." And that was when Willow started to convulse.
"I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!" Willow shouted into the inky black, dismayed by the fear that distorted her voice, making it unnaturally high.
Another giggle emerged from the void, all around her.
The darkness was disconcerting. She pivoted.
"Willow…" The sound of dead leaves crackling underfoot, the wafting scent of rotting flesh.
She turned rapid circles, trying to pinpoint the speaker.
A hand clamped around her throat, stopping her in mid-spin. Hot coals flamed in her attacker's eyes. Her heart leapt into her throat as the grip tightened, constricting her air supply.
Giles held Willow as she thrashed on the bed, speaking in his calmest voice, trying to rouse the young witch, but to no effect. A thin, high-pitched whistle emerged from between her pressed lips as she rasped for air.
Brightly coloured spots danced at the edge of her vision. Her senses seemed to narrow, like everything was being funneled to her down a long tunnel. "I… know… who you… are…" She gasped through gritted teeth. "…Metus…"
The clenching hand convulsed painfully and then snapped open. For one brief moment, in this unreal place surrounded by the stench of death, Willow could see clearly. And her illuminated eyes caught hold of the flickering visage of her demon tormenter… the scared pale moon of a fair-haired, adolescent boy, and then he was gone.
She rubbed at her throat in puzzlement. So much for 'confront and glean'…
Giles sighed in relief as Willow's breathing returned to normal, but his frown was locked in place; the witch was still fast asleep, but that particular worry was immediately replaced with another one, as his ears pricked to the sound of a violent crash from the kitchen downstairs.
"They've been up there a while, maybe I should go check." Buffy had abandoned her position at the table in favour of some proactive pacing.
"It hasn't been that long. I'm sure she's okay." Riley commented. The ex-soldier had relinquished his seat as well, and was now leaning against a relatively intact section of the countertop, observing as his girlfriend nervously wore a groove into the kitchen floor. "She's probably zeroing in on Metus as we speak."
"I hope so." Buffy muttered, "My foot's been itching to kick some demon bad-ass."
Xander cleared his throat, "Uh… something tells me you're going to get that chance." He pointed towards the doorway, as an intruder boldly stepped into the room. No bigger than Buffy, nevertheless, his features announced him as a formidable foe. Serrated teeth peeked out over his curled lips, gleaming with white menace, and his hands were tipped with curling claws; but it was flame of unholy red that licked across his irises which mesmerized Buffy, it was like something from a dream…
Riley pushed off the counter, "Hey! What are…" The interloper backhanded him, sending the large TA flying across the room into the spice rack on the opposite wall. Xander and Anya hurried to his side.
Buffy turned to face the demon.
Metus had disappeared, but Willow remained. Something… lingered, and with her spell-enhanced awareness in the dream, she thought she knew what it might be. Concentrating, she searched for something, some kind of indication…
She whispered hesitantly in the dark, "Tara…?" The dream dissolved.
Avoiding another punch, Buffy trapped the demon's arm on his follow-through, using his momentum to help slam him into the opposing counter. Pivoting, she brought her heel down on the counter, where the demon's head should have been, but the impact of her black-soled shoe served only to further fracture the tortured Formica. Her so far elusive opponent grabbed for her ankle, taking advantage of her miss to pull her off balance and yank her legs out from underneath her. The Slayer fell to the floor, cracking her head on the lino, but spun quickly out of the hold. Pushing up to stand with her back to him, she delivered a brutal elbow to the demon's stomach, followed swiftly by its twin to his face. Barely fazed, the intruder grabbed both her arms before she could turn, pulling them tight behind her back and slamming her into the most convenient appliance, the avocado-green refrigerator.
Seeing she was in trouble, Xander sprang up from his crouch beside Riley. He ignored Anya's attempts to restrain him and grabbed a handy flower vase with violent purpose.
Warm breath tickled her skin with trailing hair following in its wake. Small kisses were being placed on her bare flesh, progressing ever downward, the muscles of her flat stomach quivered as a tongue momentarily dipped in the indent of her navel. She was disoriented by the torrent of sensation that inflamed her every fibre, and struggled to keep her eyes open, trying to get her bearings. Soft, white light infused her vision, making it difficult for her to discern the details of her surroundings, but she had the feeling that it didn't matter anyway, that this place was as fuzzy and indistinct as it seemed.
She threw back her head with a sudden gasp, her hands fisting tightly, and her mouth slack with pleasure, and then, she felt the tickle of long hair once again, ghosting over her flushed skin, and a pair of velvet lips descended upon her own. Forgetting all her concerns, she responded involuntarily, allowing a sweetly persistent tongue to part her lips and press against her own, a dance she remembered well and had longed for in her most vulnerable moments. With that thought and recognition she was brought back to herself for an instant.
"Tara?" She questioned, breathless against the other's lips.
The golden head lifted from its ministrations, and blue eyes opened and met hers, dark with desire.
"How-- how did we get here?" Willow asked, utterly confused. Hadn't she just been somewhere else?
The blonde smiled, a lazy, sensuous smile that gently curved the full arch of her lips, "Does it matter?"
Willow thought about it. Does it matter? A warm tongue lapped the sensitive skin behind her ear. She wasn't sure.
"But, I thought… Kalos…"
The other girl flinched, "How do you know about Kalos?"
"Buffy and I…"
Tara waved her hand, her smile returning, "It's not important. Not here, with you."
"But what about the prophecy?" Her sense of purpose was slowly returning.
Twin, blue orbs fixed upon her intently, a light of fearful comprehension kindling in them. "You're real, aren't you?" She whispered, half to herself. "You feel real, but…" The blonde scrutinized her. "Are you real?" She asked in words spun tight with emotion.
Willow nodded hesitantly, confused.
Tara lifted a hand to touch the redhead's face, caressing the skin with the backs of her fingers, her eyes filling with moisture, "I'd hoped that… I wasn't s--sure I'd gotten through…"
Willow gaped in shock, "The book, the picture, it was you wasn't it?"
"Yes." The other girl confirmed in a hush.
"But how?"
The corners of the blonde's mouth quirked, but there was little amusement in the gesture, "It was an accident, mostly." Her eyes clouded over, "I n--needed something, some way to get away, and Metus showed me, even though he didn't know it. Sometimes it's handy, being a witch."
Willow let her hand drift up to touch the other witch's face, caress the curve of her cheek. "Where have you been all this time?"
Tara moved away slightly, putting some distance between them, unwilling to answer just yet.
Another question burned on her lips, one she was hesitant to voice, but needed to know the answer to, "What about the spell, Tara? Why did you want me to forget?"
Tara glanced at her guiltily and stumbled over her reply, "I c-c--couldn't let him… I had to go-- to Kalos… you couldn't know…" She trailed off.
A thought occurred to Willow, and suddenly, some of the flashes of memory she'd had began to make sense, "It was Metus, wasn't it? I've met him before, haven't I?"
The blonde nodded unhappily, her long hair falling to conceal her features in a shimmering cascade. Willow tenderly tucked away the silky strands, curving her hand around the delicate shell of one ear. "Shhh…" She soothed, though she was disturbed by Tara's revelations, "… it's okay, Buffy's going to take care of him." But other witch was anything, but soothed.
"NO!" She cried suddenly, pulling away. "Y--you can't hurt him!" She moderated her voice, but her dark blue eyes pleaded with the redheaded witch, "Please, Willow. You can't hurt him."
Willow, utterly confused, asked the only reasonable thing, "Why?"
And Tara proceeded to tell her everything, including the plan that she had conceived, the hope that she quietly nurtured and kept from her tormenter.
A series of loud thumps emanated from the kitchen punctuating the silence in the bedroom. Giles was torn between staying with Willow and checking on the rest of the group downstairs. It had been several minutes and the sounds of fighting had yet to abate, but Willow also remained deeply asleep. He was on the verge of leaving, rationalizing that the situation with the redheaded witch was by far the more stable of the two, based on his aural evidence, when Willow suddenly awakened with a wide yawn and a smile.
"Mission accomplished." Her beaming was interrupted by a Xena-worthy warcry, possibly made by Xander, and the distinctive sound of something breaking, possibly Xander.
Willow's brow furrowed, "What's going on?"
Buffy tightened her arm that was now clenched around the demon's neck. She'd finally gained the upper hand, but not without additional casualties, including one particularly badly broken nail on her left index finger. As if engaging in proper nail care wasn't hard enough without being a Slayer.
"WHERE IS SHE?!" The demon bellowed, twisting futilely in her hold. "WHERE IS THE WITCH?!"
"Ah… you're Metus, I presume." She stated dryly, having put 2 and 2 together to get 5.
She received no immediate answer.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just snap your neck right now." She growled. She was also still angry about having Xander and her boyfriend thrown about like sacks of potatoes.
To her surprise, this time, she got a response, and it served only to darken her mood.
"How about… if you do, you'll never be able to stop Kalos?" Metus had regained his composure and grinned cockily from his undignified position, tucked in the crook of Buffy's arm.
"Huh?"
His smile deepened, "Ooh, somebody hasn't been brushing up on their ancient prophecies…"
Buffy gaped as the demon in her grasp changed, for lack of a better word. His features sliding from the unnatural to something wholly normal looking. His sharpened teeth, dulled, and the fire that lit his eyes was snuffed, replaced with a blue that was unsettlingly clear.
At that moment, Giles and Willow came rushing down the stairs and into the room. The Watcher carrying the book and the picture that the witch had given him, and both of them, upon seeing her opponent, yelling, "Buffy! Don't kill him!"
Though Buffy felt inclined to do otherwise, the choice was removed from her as deceptively innocent-looking Metus took advantage of the distraction to deliver a doubling blow to her abdomen and slip free of her grasp. Plowing through Giles and Willow, the demon escaped out the front door as Buffy glared alternately at her Watcher and best friend while wheezing, "This-- better-- be-- good--"
Giles took the opportunity to thrust the photo of Tara's family in front of Buffy. The Slayer's brow furrowed as she scanned the image, searching for what it was she was supposed to be seeing, until finally it all clicked into place for her. "Oh brother." She said, rolling her eyes.
"This all sounds rather risky if you ask me." Giles said over his steaming teacup, which was one of the few items left in Willow and Buffy's kitchen that hadn't been broken yet. Most everyone was seated at the kitchen table, though there had been a lack of chairs. Consequently, Anya and Xander were sharing theirs, with Anya firmly entrenched in Xander's lap, while Giles was stuck with a white, plastic lawn chair, hauled in from outside. Thus arranged, they had listened attentively while Willow related her encounter with Metus, and been suitably surprised when she told them of Tara's appearance as well. The redhead had relayed the information that the blonde witch had imparted to her, leaving out some of the more intimate details, leaving them to discuss the merits of Tara's plan.
Giles laid out his concerns, "There are quite a few variables that haven't been taken into account, not the least of which is whether your basic objectives can be achieved, even with barring any outside interference."
"Tara was certain we could make this work." Willow replied defensively.
"Yes, however, your communication with Tara may not have been reliable or even genuine for that matter."
The redhead looked prepared to argue with the older man, but Buffy spoke first, "Giles is right." She declared, Willow's eyes darted to her in betrayal, but Buffy didn't leave it at that, "I think I have the perfect answer to all your problems though." She addressed the ex-Watcher, and said very deliberately, "What choice do we have?" The Slayer turned to the rest of the group, who, excepting Willow, were all a little dubious, "I mean, we've run out of time. The eclipse is in less than 24 hours, and I don't know about you, but this plan is the best one I've heard all week."
Xander agreed readily, "Much better than the 'we all die horrible, horrible deaths' plan."
She continued, "We may not know if we can trust Tara. For sure, she's done some stuff that made us question her, but this doesn't have to be about trusting Tara…" Buffy paused, smiling warmly at her best friend, "… it just has to be about trusting Willow."
Everyone at the table was silent for about half-a-second, until Giles broke the quiet with a contrite question, "What do we need to do?"
The group began working out the details.
Buffy reveled in the feel of soft cotton under her fingertips as she and Riley held each other, kissing goodnight, but at the same time as she was delighting in the taste and touch of him, part of her felt almost removed from the whole embrace. She decided to put it down to her nervousness about the impending doom of the world, and concentrated on enjoying the sensations she was experiencing.
"Ahem." Came the polite, but pointed interruption.
Buffy smiled, and broke with Riley to turn her head.
"I wouldn't have bothered you, but you're, uh-- kinda blocking the stairs." Willow explained sheepishly, as she shuffled past the couple and ascended the stairway.
Riley grinned at the retreating redhead, and returned his attention to Buffy. His gaze held that curious combination of innocence and wisdom which had initially drawn the blonde to him, but now, made her wonder if he truly deserved to be embroiled in her strange life. Seeing her serious expression, he enfolded her a warm hug and rumbled, "It'll all be okay. I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow…" She agreed, and allowed herself to be carried away as his lips covered hers once more.
"I can still hear the smacking noises!" Willow yelled from upstairs and Riley smiled, taking that as his exit cue.
After locking the front door, Buffy climbed the creaky, wooden stairs to the top floor. She entered her best friend's bedroom, and therein found a grinning Willow, sitting on the bed, her back flush against the headboard. Buffy put on her most stern of looks, which lasted all of 2 seconds, and muttered, "Brat."
Willow's smile only grew wider. "That's why you keep me around." She declared imperiously.
Buffy flashed an evil grin, "No. I keep you around cuz you're the only person I know who's more ticklish than I am." With that, she leapt on the bed, tackling the giggling redhead and grabbing for her vulnerable feet. Willow tried to counter with several well-placed attacks to Buffy's ribs, but soon found herself pinned by the determined Slayer, her feet, trapped by the blonde's superior strength, were being tickled mercilessly.
"Uncle! Uncle!" The hacker shrieked, amid her own involuntary laughter, tears running down her face.
Buffy desisted… almost immediately, and sat back against the headboard, a smug expression on her face.
Willow made a show of dusting herself off, sending several mock glares in Buffy's direction during the process, "You know, most people would have a little more respect for a bad-ass Wicca like myself."
"But I'm not most people." Buffy responded sunnily. "I'm The Slayer."
The redhead snorted, but didn't comment any further, choosing instead to join her friend, propped up against the headboard. They sat quietly together for a minute, lulled by the sound of their own breathing, perfectly attuned to each other.
Willow was the first to the break the moment with a quiet question, "Do you think this will work? Tomorrow, I mean."
Buffy lay her head on her friend's shoulder. "We'll make it work." She said resolutely.
She felt Willow take a long, deep breath, wrapping her arm around Buffy. Another minute passed.
"So, are you going to do any patrolling tonight? Or is it Slayer's prerogative, no working on nights before the world is going to end?"
Buffy smiled into Willow's shoulder, "I might step out to introduce Mr. Pointy to a coupla new people, but I won't be long. It's getting late, and we've got a lot to do tomorrow."
"You'd better get going then." Willow pointed out gently.
"Yah." Buffy sighed, enjoying just being close to her best friend. You can never have enough of these moments.
"Wanna tuck me in?" Willow asked with a grin.
"Sure." Buffy wiggled out from under Willow's arm and pulled back the covers, patting the bedspread, "Hop in." The blonde pulled the light sheets up around Willow's chin once she was settled. "Good?"
Willow nodded, her eyelids drooping drowsily.
"Good." Buffy reached out, smoothing some of the titian strands back from the hacker's brow. Leaning down she placed a whisper of a kiss on her forehead. "Sleep well."
She watched the redhead's eyes flutter shut, and then switched off the lamp. Well, looks like it's just you and me, Mr. Pointy.
Willow tensed, instantly recognizing her surroundings, or lack thereof, the darkness enfolded her in its endless embrace. I must be asleep. "Tara…?" She queried hesitantly.
"Not this time." Came the hiss beside her ear.
"Metus." She said in realization.
"I suppose we can do without the mood lighting now that the veil has been lifted." A humourless voice acknowledged.
She heard the audible snap of fingers, and immediately a harsh white light filled her sensitive eyes.
"Is that more to your liking?"
She struggled to focus, her eyes overflowing with tears.
"Perhaps a little less." The light softened, filling with shades of golden yellow, like a late afternoon in autumn.
Willow was at last able to see the demon, but he appeared only as an adolescent boy. With wide blue eyes and cornsilk hair, he seemed almost too wholesome, and indeed the illusion was marred by the baleful smile that twisted his rosebud mouth.
The redhead rallied her courage, ignoring the heart-breaking resemblance between the demon and his sister. "Where's Tara?" She demanded.
Metus smirked, pacing around her in a lazy circle, while Willow followed him with her eyes, her back ramrod straight.
"Tara… is indisposed."
"If you've hurt her…"
An angry flame roared to life in his navy eyes, and he responded harshly, "I haven't hurt her." He seemed almost insulted by the suggestion and added, "She's my sister."
Willow felt a surge of hope at his reaction, perhaps their plan would work after all, but then her hopes fell.
"Our father, on the other hand, has no such reservations…" There was an odd quality to his voice, but Willow felt her blood run cold just the same.
"Why are you here?" She asked, ignoring his intimation, while silently praying for Tara to hang on for just one more day.
"It's my job." He declared dryly. "For ten years now, it's been my duty to spread fear and terror on my father's behalf. Well, not quite ten years." He conceded, leaning in close to her. "I required a little convincing in the beginning, but 7 year old boys can be quite impressionable, don't you think?" He whispered, his eyes boring into hers.
Metus waited, but Willow didn't respond, he finally turned away with a resigned smile, "You don't really think you have a chance tomorrow, do you?"
The redhead remained quiet, unwilling to answer.
"Events have been building towards this for thousands of years. You can't stop it, even by killing me, the cycle will simply continue until the time is right again." He grew increasingly frustrated by Willow's persistent silence, pacing violently.
"Do you think you can save her?" He asked, a hateful curl to his lip.
Willow gave the only answer she could, "Yes."
He stopped pacing, and approached her again. "Because you love each other?" His mouth twisted around the word 'love'.
"Yes." She said, refusing to let her voice to waver.
Metus brought his face even with hers. "You're wrong." He hissed, a fervent light in his eyes. "Love can't save you, it can only let you down. And in the end, the people who said they loved you… will only abandon you."
"Like they did you?" Willow asked softly.
Metus' features hardened instantly, and he pulled away from her in one violent motion, "Time's up, Witch. She dies tomorrow… and so do you." He declared, and with a dramatic snap of his fingers, their surroundings dissolved and Willow was only dimly aware of slipping into normal, restful sleep.
The day passed in blur as the Slayerettes prepared for the evening's eclipse. They met at Giles' house mid-morning and spent much of the day searching for the necessary tools and ingredients to implement the plan as it had been agreed upon. In the early evening, about an hour before sunset, they split up into two groups to finish their tasks, and now the Slayer, Riley and Xander were all concealed behind a pile of rubble from Sunnydale High, waiting for the rest of the Scoobies to arrive.
"So, uh, refresh me, what exactly is the plan, here?" Xander asked, nervously shifting his gaze between the cool, collected slayer on one side, and the cool, collected soldier on the other.
"I distract the demon." Buffy answered absentmindedly as she scanned the area.
Someone had finally gotten around to demolishing Sunnydale High, not that it would have required a lot of effort. The whole thing could've toppled in a strong breeze since their battle with the Mayor. Over a year ago… time flies… Now, though the ruined building had been taken away, the landscape seemed somehow more desolate; there were great rents in the earth from whatever machines had been used to remove the school, stray bricks were strewn all around, and only a few patches of straggly grass grew sporadically.
"So, uh -- distracting the demon will stop the world from ending… how?" Xander piped up again, wanting to be reassured.
"It won't." Buffy replied softly, trying to keep the uncertainty out of her voice, "That's Tara's department, remember, she's the one with the plan."
"Right." The dark-haired boy nodded to himself, but his voice held a hysterical note, "We've got a plan, a very good plan. It is a good plan, right?" He pleaded.
Riley motioned for him to shush, someone was heading their way. A moment later, they could make out Giles, Anya and Willow in the pale moonlight, each of them carrying an assortment of items. The blonde stepped out from her hiding place, Xander and Riley followed, "You got everything?"
The three newcomers nodded gravely, even Anya seemed unusually sober.
"Now what?" Xander asked.
Willow rallied a grin, "Now… we light candles." She thrust several blue candles into his empty arms.
"It's almost time." Giles declared. "And remember, Kalos should be powerless until the prophecy is fulfilled, but there's no need to tempt fate. When the moon eclipses don't look at the Hellmouth."
"Right." The slayer positioned herself in front of the group, "Xander, you guys, I want you to stay back. When the moon does its eclipse-y thing, I'll take care of Metus."
"And what makes you so sure of that?" An amused voice interjected, followed by the Metus, himself. The blonde youth stepped out of the shadows, he was clothed in cliché-black with a bone-white smile splayed across his features.
Buffy quickly pivoted to face him, trying to keep her body between him and the others.
Observing her stance, Metus chuckled, "Keep that up and you're gonna bust something. Besides, you don't have to worry, it'll all be over soon." As he finished speaking, he tipped his head up to the sky to gaze at the luminous moon, all those present nervously followed suit.
The pale orb hung fat and full in the night sky, its brilliance blotting out the paltry light of the stars around it. A moment passed, then another before anything discernable began, and even then it was only a subtle change in colouring. Wisps of cloud threaded in front of the moon's face as it shifted from pallid white to a light orange; and then all subtlety was lost as deep scarlet hues invaded, until the moon appeared a bright pulsating red, fairly dripping with colour. The group was distracted as a low rumble moved through the earth, and a black void slowly opened where the Hellmouth should have been. The darkness of the aperture appeared to absorb the moonlight, seemingly drinking deep of the crimson rays, while at the same time a pervasive chill roiled out of the abyss.
"I'm pretty sure that never happened on the Discovery Channel." Xander commented in perplexed terror.
"Don't look at it!" Giles warned, reminding everyone of the danger Kalos posed if they even glimpsed his form.
Metus stood bathed in the now blood red light of the moon overhead, and stated, "It's time." He made a wide flourish with his hands and a huddled form in tattered rags materialized before him, quavering in the damp night air. It was Tara, and Willow's breath hitched at the sight. The blonde witch had been harshly treated, and was barely recognizable under layers of overlapping bruises and cuts, some shallow, others not. As Metus loomed over her, the girl issued a thin whimper of pain, and the demon seemed to take pause. His expression contained a trace of compassion as he leaned down to caress her matted gold hair, but his other hand produced an ornate and wickedly sharp dagger from under his coat.
Panic stricken, Willow shouted, "Buffy! Now!"
The Slayer shot forward, tackling Metus, as the remainder of the Scoobies swooped in behind her to gather up his intended victim. The demon roared in surprise as he hit the ground, propelled by Buffy's weight. The Slayer held onto him, rolling forward and flipping them both further away from the rest of the gang. She sprang to her feet, and turned to face him. Metus was slower to get up, first tucking the dagger at his waist and allowing his features to slide into the fully demonic. His eyes were baleful, glowing a dark red, and his features were feral and fierce, curled in a sneer of distaste, "You can't stop this, Slayer. If you kill me then the cycle will simply repeat until the time is ripe again."
His eyes darted to where Tara was being helped up by Xander, Anya and Willow.
Buffy gave a tight grin, "Hadn't planned on killing you. I thought we'd just chat a little, maybe get to know each other before we move onto that pivotal 'Kill You' stage."
Metus shrugged, "I'm not big on talking." He gave a vicious swipe with one long claw-tipped arm.
She avoided him easily and tsked, "Demons these days, no attention spans, it's all about instant gratification." Buffy obliged him with a quick fist in the face. "All about Me, Me, Me." She punctuated each word with a succession of punches, until Metus surprised her by catching her arm before she could land her next blow.
Buffy's eyes grew wide as the demon hissed in her ear, "Well, it is my birthday afterall, but I guess I could give you a present instead…" Metus smashed an open hand into her chest sending the blonde flying through the air to land with a sickening thud on the uneven landscape. She did not get up immediately, and Giles swept to her aid.
Riley, who had been standing to one side, took that as his cue to enter the fray. The ex-soldier stepped up, landing a vicious blow that set the considerably smaller demon back a few steps. Metus re-focused, setting his attention on the large man before him. Riley moved forward to press his advantage and buy Buffy some recovery time, but discovered his every move countered easily. The former marine soon found himself in a desperate situation, as the demon grabbed both his hands in mid-punch. Metus smiled coldly, his hands covering Riley's clenched fists, as he increased the pressure he was exerting. An audible snap was heard and Riley was forced to his knees as wave of nausea rose inside him, propelled by the realization that one or more of his fingers had broken. The demon delivered a quick kick to his temple, laying out the ex-marine, his shattered hands were unable to break his fall as the edges of his vision grew black..
Satisfied that he had neutralized any threats, Metus returned his attention to his prey, allowing Xander and Anya to assist the fallen soldier.
The demon fixed a savage smile firmly upon his face, and ran his forked tongue over serrated teeth as he stalked towards where Willow was hastily completing a magic circle around herself and Tara. Humming a snatch of 'Happy Birthday to You", he stepped over the unfinished circle's boundary and towered over the two witches where they sat.
Both Tara and Willow were chanting softly as the redhead continued to form the circle with sand, "Libera eum, Magna Dea. Libera eum, Magna Dea."
"You cannot save her." He declared scornfully. Reaching down, he grasped Tara's throat in a painful grip, and hauled her up level with him, his claws bit into her tender flesh. He caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye and refocused on Willow, who had shifted her position subtly and finished pouring the sand. The flames flickered hesitantly in his eyes and his expression grew slightly confused as he realized that the redhead had left herself out of the completed circle.
Willow looked up at him sadly, "It's not her we're trying to save."
Tara raised her weary gaze, pinning her brother with sorrowful blue eyes, "It's you." She revealed through cracked lips, as she touched her fingertips to his temples, "Remember…"
They were in a field, the wind gently bending the long golden grass that stood tall around them. Their mother's voice carried over the waving grasses, lyrical and warm, "C'mon you two, it's almost time for dinner."
"Race ya to the house!"
The perspective changed, and they were on the porch of the pale blue house.
"No fair! You always cheat!"
And then inside.
Sitting at the table, with the light of the dying day reflected in reds and golds on the soft ovals of her mother's and brother's faces, the warm sound of laughter, the strawberry shade of her mother's hair, the slight dimple in her brother's cheek, it was perfect. And for the first time, she realized it. It was her first perfect moment, a moment of simple revelation where everything in her young life crystallized, and she knew that she was truly meant to be here, alive and happy, with these two people who meant more to her than anything she could imagine. Even as inexperienced as she was, she realized that it was a rare thing to have one of these instances in time, where the colours were brighter, the smells more vivid, and everything just seemed to slow and stop; like you could live forever in this one, perfect moment, when you were happy.
Getting up, she moved around the table amid her family's puzzled looks, and positioned herself between her mother and brother. Placing a reverent kiss on her mother's temple, she turned and hugged her brother, then sat down in her chair again.
"What was that for?" Her mother questioned, surprised, but delighted too.
She smiled enigmatically, "Nothing." But inside she was thinking she'd never felt more loved. And catching her brother's eyes from across the table, for a brief second she saw a hint of what she was feeling reflected in him…
Willow clenched and unclenched her hands as she waited outside the circle, powerless beyond that self-created barrier. She stood watching, while Tara and Metus remained locked in their strange embrace, his hand still tightly wound around her throat and her fingertips pressing gently at his temples. Neither of them seemed conscious of their surroundings, though swollen beads of sweat trickled down Metus' forehead, into his eyes, as though to quench the otherworldly fires that burned in their depths. Tara's face, though marred with half-healed cuts and layered with bruises, was the inverse mirror of her brother's, as serene as a mountain lake on a warm, windless day.
Buffy groaned as Giles helped her to her feet. Her chest felt like it had a hand-shaped indent all the way to the bone and blood trickled down her forehead from a gash near her hairline. "Is it over yet?" But even as she asked, she knew it wasn't, she could still feel the cold rolling off the abyss behind her, and the moon continued to pulse an angry red. The Watcher confirmed her conclusion with a quick, negative shake of his head. Leaning slightly on the older man for support, she said, "What can we do?"
Giles pointed towards the circle where Tara and Metus stood, oblivious to the outside world, and uttered one word, "Wait."
She sifted rapidly through her memories, sharing the best and the worst moments of their childhood, and the happiness they had known as a family. Teaching Matthew how to ride a bike, jumping in puddles after a rain storm as their mother looked on from the porch, losing their grandmother before they'd ever really gotten a chance to know her. She thought, or maybe only hoped that some of the hatred she'd felt from her brother through their connection was weakening; but it still wasn't enough, not if they were to fulfill the prophecy the way she intended. And so, the last memory she picked, was one that had never been far from her mind, and she knew that it would strike a cord with her brother one way or the other. For good or ill, she plunged them both into the nightmare that had plagued her for 10 long years, she shared her memory of their mother's death…
The Scoobies had gathered near the magic circle, Giles supporting an injured Buffy, Xander with a protective arm around Anya, and Riley standing near Buffy, still a little groggy, his mangled hands dangling uselessly at his sides. All of them were trying to ignore the unease they felt, the prickling of the skin on their necks from the yawning, black chasm behind them, focusing instead on the scene before them, the strange tableau of Tara and her brother locked inside the ring of magic sand.
Suddenly, the heavy silence was pierced by a wrenching cry torn from Metus' lips. His eyes remained glazed with a far-away-look, but he cycled wildly through his two transformations, now a demon, now a boy, and back again. The group watched in trepidation as the demon thrashed futilely, tied to his sister by an unseen force, though the pressure of her fingertips on his temples never seemed to increase.
Then, with a last weak moan, Metus ceased his flailing and was allowed to crumple to the ground in a heap.
Amazingly, despite her battered condition, Tara remained standing, and her red-rimmed eyes came to focus on her shattered brother. Leaning down, she placed a gentle kiss on the fair hair crowning his head, her lips lingering there with a hint of a beatific smile. Then, she tipped his wide, innocent face up to hers, he, having finally settled on a form, and she caught his dark blue eyes with her own, always a shade lighter.
"You know what you have to do." She said, her voice quiet and accepting as she raised him to his feet again.
Matthew bit his lip, hesitating, but Tara plucked the dagger he'd left in his waistband, guiding it with her hand on his to where soft flesh and yielding bone clothed her heart.
"NO!" Willow yelled in realization from the circle's edge, straining against the magical barrier. This wasn't part of the plan they had discussed. "Tara, you don't have to do this! It's over." Her voice broke on her last words, constricted by her heart.
With difficulty, Tara kept her focus, clasping the dagger with her brother's hand, though his grip remained weak. She spoke softly, reasonably, "We can end this here, Matthew, the prophecy must be fulfilled now, completely, or it will happen again, and the next 'children', might not make the right choice." She felt Matthew's hold on the weapon tighten as he walked the edge between decisions. Faintly, she could still hear Willow pleading with her, but nothing could disturb the tranquil waters of her soul. She knew what had to be done, and so, it seemed did Matthew.
The boy sighed deeply, looking both younger and older than his 17 years, his fine blond hair surrounding his head in a fly-away halo. He placed his other hand overtop of hers, so that they both held the dagger fast, and smiled a shaky half-grin.
"I love you." She said, partly to sooth his fears and partly out of her own need.
His smile became more firm, "I love you too." He tipped his head towards the edge of the circle where Willow continued her desperate appeals, "And so does she…"
A flicker of confusion rippled through her peaceful state, as Matthew leaned closer and whispered in her ear, "Happy birthday, sis." And with both their hands, he plunged the dagger into his own heart.
The effects were immediate, both within the circle and without.
Outside, the moon's red tide receded, and a hiss like a fire being quenched arose from the abyss as the aperture constricted, leaving its promise of destruction unfulfilled.
Outside, the Scoobies gaped, not knowing what had occurred, the action obscured by the bodies of the two siblings. Willow feared the worst.
And inside the circle, the most potent effects took hold.
Tara was first aware of only the strange warmth that coated her hands, then the sickly-sweet coppery scent tickled her nose. At last, she was overwhelmed by the gentle weight that pressed against her, and had no choice but to allow her brother to slump to the ground, pulling the dagger free as he fell. The chill of the metal ran up the length of her arm, and the delicate inlay bit into her skin as she clenched the weapon. Looking down at the motionless form of her brother and the bloodsoaked dagger in her hand, she was momentarily unable to equate the two. The images infusing her mind seemed almost abstract and unrelated in their horror. It was only when she reached out a shaky hand to touch the already cooling body that reality hit home. The weapon slipped from a hand too numb to hold it, and she fell forward to cover Matthew with her own body, perhaps to lend him the warmth that he could no longer generate himself.
As she lay there, she was only dimly aware of Willow beginning the incantation to dispel the circle that held the rest of the world at bay. She sensed the void inside her, calling to her from beyond the pain, offering her an escape and she surrendered to it, grateful.
"We've bandaged your cuts, splinted Mr. Finn's fingers, and overall it looks like no major damage was done, although I'm sure your ribs hurt like a son-of-a-gun." The white-coated doctor offhandedly addressed his last remark to Buffy.
"Only when I breathe." The Slayer muttered. And who says son-of-a-gun anymore?
The doctor nodded, not really listening, "We are going to want you both to stick around for 24 hrs, though, for observation. You received a couple of nasty bumps on the head when you…" He glanced down at his clipboard, and blinked, "… crashed your dune buggies… " But didn't express any further skepticism. Sunnydale's officials had long ago learned not to question anything out of the ordinary.
Buffy, who was sitting with her boyfriend on a hospital gurney while they received their medical reports, immediately rejected the doctor's advice, "I don't think that will be necessary, doctor."
The doctor raised an eyebrow and huffed through his salt-and-pepper moustache, "That may be well and good for you Miss Summers, however Mr. Finn should definitely not be discharged when he has complained of such symptoms as…" He flipped through the papers on the clipboard, "… tinitis, intermittent blurred vision and coordination issues."
Riley squeezed her hand with his least injured one, "I'll be alright, Buffy. We should just go home." But the blonde was less certain, she could feel how weak his clasp was, and noted the unfocused glaze to his eyes.
Gingerly returning his comforting grip, she placed a concerned hand at the side of his face, feeling guilty that her Slayer duties had once again gotten him hurt, "Maybe you should stay."
The ex-soldier relinquished his girlfriend's hand in surprise and studied her for a long moment. Buffy refused to squirm under his scrutiny. He finally turned away from her, shrugging off her hand, and donned his best 'corn-fed-Iowa-boy' persona, "Well, looks like I'll be bunking here for now." His easy grin failed to reach his eyes and his voice was a little too tight, but he followed the doctor willingly enough as he started down the hall to his room.
The doctor testily reminded Buffy as he left, "Don't forget to sign the checkout papers at the desk."
Buffy watched the two men recede down the sterile hallway, the outline of her boyfriend getting smaller and more indistinct, before she pushed off the gurney and headed towards the nurses' desk. She signed the appropriate papers, supplied by an indifferent nurse, and headed for the waiting area. On her way to the lounge, she mused about well she knew the layout of Sunnydale's hospital, and what a sad fact that was. She passed by the recovery ward where she and Faith had once shared a brief hospital visit, brief for her, but all too long for the dark slayer. Grimacing, she skirted past the memory, and hurried towards the waiting room. Thereupon, she found Giles, Xander and Anya, in various states of exhaustion. Giles, pouring over last December's issue of Rolling Stone, and probably not getting very far, as it was upside-down. Anya was curled up in a too small chair, her head resting on the scantily padded arm, sleeping while Xander stroked her hair. The first hint of rosy-fingered dawn could be gleaned through the windows.
Her watcher was first to notice her return, and abandoned his magazine in favour of standing up to meet her. His eyes darted to the conspicuous bandage that weighed heavily above her right eyebrow, but she soothed his unspoken worry, "All clear." She quirked a grin as she touched the gauze, "More or less, but, uh-- Riley's going to stay for a day, just in case."
Giles nodded, and Buffy looked beyond him to include a listening Xander in her question, "Any word on Tara yet?"
Both men looked grave. "Willow's still in with her." Xander said softly, and vaguely pointed out the direction, Anya never stirred. Buffy followed the line of his outstretched hand, moving out of the lounge, and leaving the rest of the gang to return once again to waiting.
She shuffled down the corridor, scanning the rooms for a redhaired occupant, until she reached the third door on the left. Gazing through the narrow window, she saw a bed obscured by the huddled frame of her best friend. Willow looked up suddenly, and glanced over her shoulder to catch Buffy observing her. Mustering a wane smile, the redhead moved to the door, and joined the blonde outside in the hallway.
"Hey." Buffy said, her one word greeting intricately layered with all her concern and love.
"Hey." Willow replied, her eyes rimmed red, from crying or from exhaustion, Buffy couldn't tell. "How's Riley?"
The blonde slayer hedged, "He's okay, but he's staying for a day just in case." Buffy glanced through the window at the room's motionless occupant, "So, how is she?"
Willow fiddled with the hem of her shirt, finally settling on wrapping her arms around her torso, "Physically… she should be okay. Nothing, too permanent. But she might have a couple…" The witch's voice stuck in her throat, "..scars."
"And mentally?"
Willow sighed wearily, "No good."
Buffy placed a comforting hand on her friend's arm, but Willow was hesitant to lean into the touch, for fear of breaking down.
"She hasn't said anything since…" She trailed off. "And she wouldn't look at me, or the doctor. She moves where you tell her to, and does what you ask, but that's it."
"She'll be okay, Willow." Buffy murmured, fervently hoping that would be true. Searching her heart, she was surprised to discover that the anger she'd harboured toward the blonde witch had disappeared.
Shimmering green eyes met Buffy's own hazel ones, "Maybe she won't be okay." Willow said, despondently. "Nothing turned out quite the way we planned."
Buffy ran her hands up and down the other girl's arms, trying to think of something to say, "We saved the world, didn't we?"
The corners of the redhead's mouth were tugged upwards momentarily, "Yah, we saved the world, Buffy." Her expression became haunted again, "But we lost someone, maybe two someones that were worth saving too." She sighed, "I know Matthew did some bad things, I mean, he was a demon, but deep inside, I think he really was a good person too, he just needed someone to help him remember that." Willow continued earnestly, "Sometimes, we just can't make it on our own. We all need someone to love us, to help remind us that there's good in the world, to keep us from going crazy."
Buffy experienced a brief pang of old guilt, for the person she wasn't able to save. An image of dark hair and leather flashed in her mind's eye. In self-revelation, she responded softly, "That sounds like good advice, maybe you should take it."
Willow glanced back into the hospital room, and became a little more animated, "Yah, maybe I should." She focused on Buffy again, "I think I'm going to stay here for a while, but I'll see you at the house later, right?" Her gaze returned to the hospital room.
Buffy surprised herself by making a decision she hadn't been aware that she was contemplating, "Actually, I think there's something I've got to do first. So, I might be missing for a day or two."
Willow's ears pricked at this news, but anxious to return to Tara's bedside, she accepted Buffy's statement without any questions.
"Good luck." Buffy bid her warmly with a quick hug. The redhead smiled in gratitude and ducked back into the room.
Buffy stood for a moment, watching her best friend settle back in at Tara's bedside, and then turned to walk down a side corridor. Coming to an isolated pay phone, far from the waiting room, and the busier wards, she flipped open the telephone book and deposited her quarter. She was surprised that her hand didn't shake as she punched in the numbers, and her voice was level and calm when she spoke, "I'd like a ticket on your next bus to LA…"
Willow sat back down in the chair that had cradled her body for the last several hours, it still contained the vestiges of her warmth. She reached out to clasp a slack hand that had slipped from Tara's chest and was now dangling partway off the bed, and then lifted her free hand to stroke the blonde's hair, whether to comfort Tara or herself she wasn't certain. In vain, she searched the other witch's darkened face for some sign of recognition, but there had been no change during her brief absence with Buffy.
Willow's hand halted midway through smoothing down the already flat strands of Tara's dulled hair. Remembering her own advice, and desperate to shake the glazed look in the other girl's eyes, she spoke in a frantic whisper, "Tara… please… I know you can hear me. I know you're in there somewhere, and what happened last night was horrible." Tara remained impassive, but her own throat constricted painfully at the memory, "And I know you're in pain-- but--" She paused, fiddling nervously with Tara's indifferent hand, this was the pivotal moment, "I need you to know… that I need you, because you make me a better person when you're around. And you can't just slip away like this-- because I'm not sure I could take that again." Her voice grew smaller and smaller, "And I know-- that it's selfish of me, to be asking this right now." She sucked in a deep breath, the air whistling through her clenched teeth, "But, I need you to show me, something-- a sign, that you're still in there. And I don't-- expect you to be alright, not today, not tomorrow, but I need you to show me, that there's a-- chance."
She stopped talking, and unconsciously held her breath, waiting for… something. After one moment, then two, her hopes began to sink, and she wondered if it were possible for her heart to hurt anymore than it already did, but then, her dark musings were interrupted, as she felt the tiniest flutter against her fingertips and the inside of her palm; and she looked down at their joined hands in time to see Tara's hand wrap around hers firmly. And when the redhead looked up again, she saw that Tara had shifted her head, only slightly, but enough so that her clear blue eyes could focus on Willow. The blonde witch still did not speak, but her eyes held a spark of warmth that hadn't been there a moment earlier, and that was enough for Willow.
"Okay then." The redhead whispered in acceptance, bringing Tara's hand to her lips to place a small, reverent kiss there. The blonde's mouth seemed to twitch upward in response, and then Willow lay her weary head on the bed, mindful of the other girl's injuries, and let herself be carried off to sleep.
"In here, Miss."
Buffy followed the progression of the man's outstretched arm through the door.
"You're in that one."
She sat down in the chair of the booth indicated.
"There's 10 minutes left. And remember, no touching the glass." The man admonished, and left to return to his post.
No touching the glass. It reminded her of being in the zoo or something, where you weren't allowed to tap the windows of the monkey enclosure for fear of messing with their completely unnatural habitat. Buffy shifted uncomfortably in the molded plastic chair, and crossed her legs at the knee. She studied her environment, the dingy gray of the walls, that although they appeared to have been painted recently, nevertheless were peeling in a cliché kinda way. She also noticed that she was only other person in the room, save the man standing at the door. Guess it's slow on weeknights. Her foot bounced idly, as she waited, she was nervous.
A muffled sound alerted Buffy to another presence, but she couldn't see around the partitions. A second later, she was greeted by the sight of rich dark hair, and a warm smile that fell when it's owner realized who was sitting before her. The other girl's wide brown eyes darted uncertainly, but eventually she sat down and picked up the phone in front of her.
It was Buffy's move, and she paused briefly before grasping the other phone. "Hey." The blonde said, noncommittal.
"Hey." Was the response, delivered in the exact same tone.
Buffy waited, trying to think of something to say, but nothing was forthcoming. She didn't even really know why she was here, after all the stuff she'd been put through by the girl now sitting 3 feet in front her, separated by bulletproof glass, why was she the one who had to do all the work? Why should she ever forgive? And why did she want to? A spark of anger flamed within her, and Buffy fell back on old habits, lashing out, "Wow, Faith… 'Prison Blue' really works for you."
Faith shrugged and leaned back in her chair a cocky grin on her face, "Yah, well, it started out as trendy, but now all the girls are wearing it. I'm thinking of switching to Chain-Gang orange, flatters my complexion."
Buffy didn't even try to keep the venom out of her words, "It's good to have goals."
The dark slayer moved forward, resting her hand on the countertop. "Did you come here for a reason, B? Or are you just dishing out fashion tips on the fly today?"
Though her expression was confrontational, Buffy detected a trace of hurt in Faith's dark eyes; she almost dismissed it, but she knew, if they were to get anywhere, then they would both have to break the destructive pattern that their relationship had fallen into.
Buffy sighed roughly, "I didn't come here for this."
Faith rocked back in her chair, wrapping her free arm around her middle. "Well, what did you come for?" Though aloof, her voice held a hint of desperate curiosity.
Unable to meet the other girl's gaze, Buffy looked down, her hand playing with the telephone cord, "I wanted to talk with you."
"But are you willing to?" Was the hushed rejoinder, after a long pause.
The blonde exhaled slowly to give herself an extra moment to prepare, "Faith, I need to say something to you..."
"Wait." The other slayer interjected earnestly, causing Buffy to look up. "Let me first… B, please?" Buffy scrutinized the dark-haired girl's features, searching for insincerity, but the pleading quality in Faith's chocolate brown eyes finally persuaded her. She nodded her acquiescence.
Faith ran an unsteady hand through her long hair; it was longer then Buffy had ever seen it before, but it still looked beautiful and wild, much like its owner. She clamped down tightly on that train of thought, purposely derailing it and forcing herself to focus as Faith began to speak.
"I tried to say something to you, before-- when you were in LA, and you told me that you'd…"
"… beat you death?" The blonde finished, blushing with sudden shame as she remembered her anger at finding Faith with Angel; it hadn't been one of her best moments. Her hand gripped the telephone tightly. Neither of the two girls could meet each other's gaze.
"Um, yah, but I'm hoping that maybe, you'll, uh-- listen now." Faith's voice rose in question on the last word, and Buffy glanced up, her sorrowful hazel eyes, brimming with past regrets locked with the other girl's in response. Faith took a deep, fortifying breath, "I'm sorry, B. And I know that's not good enough, but I am… sorry, for all the shit I put you through. And I hope, one of these days you'll believe that."
The blonde let out the ragged breath that she'd unconsciously been holding. A small smile tugged at her lips, "I do believe that, I believe you… but…" The flicker of hope that had kindled in Faith's countenance was quickly muted by Buffy's hesitation, and then snuffed altogether as she continued speaking, "I came here today, because I wanted you to know that… I don't forgive you."
This time the hurt was plain to see in Faith's features, though they shifted rapidly through a myriad of emotions, until at last they hardened completely, "Gee, B, thanks for coming out." She moved to hang up the phone.
"Faith! Wait!"
The other girl paused, halfway to the hook, her hand clenching the phone so tightly, it shook.
"Will you just listen?" Buffy said, unsure if her words were being heard.
Faith cautiously returned the phone to her ear, her eyes dark and gleaming.
"Please, just listen?" Buffy appealed to her. When no answer was forthcoming, the blonde took her silence to be agreement. She started again rushing through her first words, "I came here to say, that while I don't forgive you, I wanted you to know that -- I think I can now… forgive you." Her brow wrinkled, "I want to forgive you."
Faith's dangerous expression lost some of its edge, and her eyes began to shimmer with gathering moisture in the harsh, fluorescent lights. She rolled her shoulders back, and mustered a shadow of her usual grin that was now a little too sincere, to be sardonic, "Well, that's better than a kick in the head, I guess. A girl's gotta start somewhere."
"Not just you, Faith." Buffy corrected her. "I think we both have things to make up for."
The dark slayer's eyebrows climbed to her hairline. "How's that, B?"
Buffy looked down at the grimy counter, her free hand tracing idle circles on its uneven surface. "We both made mistakes."
Faith let out a short, bitter laugh, "Yah, but your mistakes were a little less 'Murder One' than mine."
She looked up, her hazel eyes finding dark brown ones and drawing the other slayer into her words, "Faith, that night… in the alley…" The brunette stiffened but Buffy continued, "… it wasn't your fault. It could have been either one of us. If it had been my turn, I would've staked Alan, and maybe you wouldn't be in here now."
Faith shrugged, her expression betraying none of her feelings, "No use crying over spilt milk."
"I cried." Buffy admitted quietly. "And not just for him." She let some of the sorrow and regret she felt tinge her words, but was careful not to sound piteous. Faith broke with the blonde's gaze, inclining her head downward so that her thick hair shaded her features from view.
"Time's up." The authoritative voice of the guard interrupted.
"Faith." Buffy entreated. "Faith…" She tried again, but the girl refused to look up. The blonde continued softly, regardless, "I want you to know, I'll come visit you again." She stood up as the guard stepped forward, preparing to escort her out; but before she hung up the phone, her fingers ghosted along the surface of the forbidden glass, tracing the other girl's image, and she whispered gently, "I won't give up on you. "
The dark slayer kept her head down as she listened to the sound of the phone being replaced on the receiver, and of Buffy's chair being scraped across the floor, and finally of the door sliding shut as both slayer and guard exited the room. Only then did she raise her head, and the glistening trails of twin tears shone brightly on her face despite her impassive expression.
She sat a moment longer, wiped her cheeks dry, and then hung up the phone, ready to return to her cell.
Continued in... Tomorrow's Another Day
There's no place like home