Author Notes: See Part 1.
Feedback: Even more sure! Bring it on!
"OK, so what's the game plan?" Xander, Willow knew, was big on game plans. They made him feel less paralyzed in the face of all-consuming terror.
After Buffy had worked through her issues with Beverly (with no small measure of assistance from Tara), the meeting had settled into a reasonable facsimile of its earlier congeniality...albeit with a heightened sense of urgency.
"Do we wait for the interdimensional skank to make the next move?" Beverly asked. Willow noticed that she was looking at Buffy as she did so.
She's letting Buffy know that she sees her as the alpha chick in this particular pack. Very smooth.
"I don't know that we have any choice," the Slayer answered reluctantly, pacing the length of the room. "We don't know where she lives, or if she even 'lives' in any traditional sense of the word. For all we know, she only takes human form when she drops in on us for one of her surprise visits. Maybe she's just some nebulous entity the rest of the time." She stopped for a moment, then muttered, "God, I hate just waiting; wondering when she'll show up."
Dawn looked at Giles. "Do we know when the ritual's supposed to happen? I mean, the coupon has an expiration date, right? She has to use the Key to get back to her home within a certain time frame, doesn't she?"
Giles nodded. "Yes-and that's probably the greatest advantage we have going for us. That, and having the Slayer and apparently any number of other good souls entrusted with the Key's protection," he added, smiling gently at the two women who now stood side by side. "But to answer your original question, Dawn-we know that Glory does indeed have a limited time frame with which to work. Even draining so many people as she has, she can only stay in this world for so long. She wasn't meant to spend so much time here."
"Which means that she should be coming for it sometime soon," Dawn said quietly.
There was an intensely uncomfortable silence, until Tara said, "And whenever she does, we'll be ready." She walked over to where Dawn stood, hands shoved deep inside her pockets, her eyes studiously avoiding all of them. Willow thought that she had never seen the girl look so tiny.
"Dawn, Sweetie," Tara said gently, reaching out to take her hand, "I know you're scared. We're all scared. But we'll get through it-all of us will get through this, and life can get back to the way it's supposed to be."
"Right," Willow chimed in. "Soon everything will be back to normal...long nights stalking through graveyards, vanquishing demons of all sorts, and narrowly averting an apocalypse." At Dawn's bemused gaze, she acknowledged, "Although the word 'normal' is, of course, a subjective term."
Giles looked back at Beverly. "And you don't know the identity of any other Protector? Or how many there are?"
Beverly shook her head apologetically. "I wish I did, even though it's safer that I don't. It would give us an idea of just how much back-up Buffy has."
And again with the recognition that Buffy's in charge. Willow knew it shouldn't be possible, but she couldn't help feeling that Tara had picked up some of her emotional nuance skills from her aunt.
"And they can recognize the Key, just like you, right?" Buffy asked anxiously.
"Right," Beverly reassured her. "But the Key won't recognize them. It might be too hard for the Key to act normal if he or she were just to run into one at the mall."
"I dunno," Buffy mused, a trace of a grin flashing across her face. "I have it on good authority that the Key has a hard time acting normal under the most normal of circumstances."
"Probably has something to do with being around a control-freak vampire slayer all the time," Dawn replied sweetly, grinding her tennis shoe down onto Buffy's open-toed sandal.
"OK, so what exactly does Glory know about the Key?" Xander was asking.
"Well clearly she knows that the Slayer is entrusted with protecting it," Giles murmured, lightly blowing across his fresh cup of tea.
"But she doesn't know exactly who the Key is," Anya added. "Because she was looking for Tara at the multicultural fair."
"That's right," Giles said slowly, leaning forward in his curiosity. "But why? Why Tara and not Willow, whom she had in her very hands?"
"Maybe she likes blondes," Xander offered.
"Wait a minute-Glory's on the bus?" Beverly's tone was incredulous. "God, there's not a straight girl in this whole town!"
"Excuse me-breeder standing right in front of you," Buffy said indignantly.
"I dunno, Buff-you lost Riley, for heaven's sake," Willow pointed out. "Unconscious wish fulfillment? Better blatant than latent, I always say."
"Actually, Sweetie, I've never heard you say that," Tara countered gently. "But I like it. You can say it all the time from now on."
Giles interrupted this debate on the myriad Sunnydale sexual orientations with a brusque snort of impatience. "Actually, the available texts suggest that she has a blow-up doll." As all eyes turned to him filled with something akin to horror, he added, "What? I get to be saucy sometimes, too." He took a mildly flustered sip of his tea and continued. "To return, albeit reluctantly, to the matter at hand: Glory literally had her hands on the Slayer's best friend; someone who has known her and worked closely with her for years. Yet she believed Tara was the Key. Why?"
"Maybe because Willow's a Scooby vet and I'm not," Tara suggested. "I mean, that's just one difference between us, and it may not have anything to do with why she believed it was me, but it's worth keeping in mind."
"I agree," Giles nodded. "We should also be mindful of any other differences between the two of you, for possible clues as to her reasoning."
Willow leaned over to Tara and whispered, "You think Glory knows I wear bikini underwear and you wear thongs?"
"Probably not," Tara muttered through clenched teeth.
"If she does think the Key is one of the newer members of the club, then I'm in danger," Anya commented. Willow couldn't tell if Anya was worried, flattered, or a little of both.
"As is Dawn," Giles added pointedly.
"Well, if she grabs either of you, she'll just find out she was wrong-just like she was with Tara," Xander offered soothingly.
Nice thinkin', X-Man. A little misdirection can't hurt, just in case somebody is listening...
"Let's face it," Willow said, a trifle dejectedly. "We really don't know jack about Glory; least of all what she knows about the Key."
The room was silent for a moment, then Giles turned back to Beverly. "Do you have any idea how the others will end up here? How they'll come to be in a position to protect the Key?'
"Good question," Buffy nodded. "It won't help us to have three hundred Protectors if two hundred and ninety-nine of them live east of the Mississippi."
Again, Beverly could only shake her head. "I certainly didn't head to Sunnydale with the idea that I might meet the Key. I just wanted to see Tara; I felt like I had to see her." She smiled ruefully at her niece.
"Maybe that's how it'll happen," Xander mused. "It'll be like a homing device, or an instinct. Like salmon migrating to lay their eggs."
"Thanks for the analogy," Beverly said skeptically. "Don't let me forget to drop off my eggs at 'Spawn 'r' Us' later tonight." Looking back at Tara, she said softly, "It really was to see you, Tara. Maybe the monks did install some kind of timer or signal, but as far as my heart and mind were concerned, I was coming to see my neice."
Tara just nodded, a kind of sad smile dimly illuminating her features.
The meeting ended not long after that, with the understanding that Beverly would be sticking around. In the interim, everyone was to stay as close to each other as possible. As they left, Tara turned quickly to Buffy. "Um, listen...about my little righteous indignation earlier..."
Buffy just smiled. "Actually, I was thinkin' it was impressively butch. And now I should probably just be quiet."
As Willow, Tara, and Beverly turned off from the rest of the group at the end of Giles' walkway, Beverly said abruptly, "I'm calling Tanya when I get back to the hotel. I'm going to ask her to come out here."
Willow, walking on Tara's right, felt her lover reach out to Beverly, on Tara's left. "Want a little moral support?" she asked gently.
"I want Tanya," Beverly replied simply. "I miss her like crazy, and it looks like this is turning out to be far more eventful than I anticipated. She said last night she doesn't like missing all the excitement."
"What does she know?" Willow asked reluctantly, hoping that Beverly wouldn't take the question as a sign of disinterest in Beverly's own unique situation. If I were Tanya, and Tara were the one with such a burden, no way would I stand for being hundreds of miles away.
"Don't worry; I've never mentioned any specifics. To be honest, we sort of have our own little language anyway; anybody listening in would be lost most of the time."
Willow glanced quickly at Tara, who was smiling back at her. The two of them had established their own unique lexicon themselves.
"Besides," Beverly added, her voice growing very quiet, "if she had to wait until I got back to see me, she might not see me."
"Don't say that," Tara practically shouted. As if embarrassed by her outburst, she spoke more evenly. "Aunt Beverly, we've all faced some of the most horrific situations you can imagine, and we always pull through." Tara attempted a smile. "It's in the Scooby Handbook: 'All Scoobies and Scooby guests are required to survive all supernatural battles and other exploits.'"
"Oh, well, if the Handbook says so..." Beverly stopped and turned to Tara, giving her a wry smile. "Sweetie, I know that this trip hasn't been what you expected. For what it's worth, I wasn't expecting this either."
The air about them seemed heavy with a kind of sad, wistful lassitude, as if reluctant to let time nudge them toward such horrors as they would most certainly see. Tara stood facing Beverly, holding onto both of her hands. Willow took a half-step closer to her lover and laid her cheek gently against her back, her hands resting lightly on Tara's waist.
Tara seemed to have a hard time speaking. "Aunt Beverly, I think I gave up on normal a long time ago; or maybe normal gave up on me. Either way, you are who you are, and I'm proud of you. For everything," she added, and now Willow could hear the tears in her beloved's voice. "As far as I'm concerned, you knew my mother; more importantly, you loved her."
"Yes I did," Beverly replied simply. "And she was so easy to love, Tara." She paused, and looked at Willow over Tara's shoulder. "Willow-finish that sentence for me, if you would."
"She was so easy to love...just like her daughter," Willow instantly obliged. And then the three of them melted into a kind of living sculpture of arms and hand and cheeks and backs as they pulled into one very impressive group hug.
Finally, Beverly pulled away just a bit. "I hate to go all mundane concerns on you two, but is it OK to be walking around here at night?"
"Oh, we always pack protection," Willow boasted, "and I ain't talkin' dental dams, either." Catching herself, she added with mortification, "And now I just ain't talkin' at all."
"What Willow's trying to say in her own very singular fashion is that we always carry holy water and crosses," Tara said in reply to both Beverly's question and her bemused look at Willow's announcement.
"OK; cool. Just checking," Beverly nodded as she linked her arm through Tara's and they began walking once more.
"Um, so Beverly...trying the speech thing again," Willow fumbled. "I was wondering-you said that you repel Glory. Do you know if you have the same impact on demons and other less respectable creatures?"
"That's a good question," Beverly mused. "You know, I've definitely had the feeling that I was being watched a couple of times...actually, followed would be a better word."
"Were you scared?" Tara asked, her voice edged with concern.
"Well, I was definitely aware of them. And it's not like I have any great strength or fighting skill, so I guess I should have been more afraid than I was. But I have to admit, I felt pretty secure; like I knew somehow that they wouldn't get too close."
"And it was always the same feeling?" Willow asked, her inveterate curiosity eager to understand this new phenomenon.
"Similar feelings, yeah...but not exactly identical-if you'll pardon the redundancy." Beverly's expression suggested that she was busy analyzing the limited data herself. "You know...this is just a hunch, but I wonder if there's a connection between whatever I'm facing at the moment and how powerful my impact is."
"What do you mean?" Tara asked, frowning.
"I wonder if my effect is directly or maybe inversely proportional to the evil of what I'm facing. Maybe that's why I've felt more or less confident in each experience. If something's really evil, I repel them either more or less."
"Wonder what effect you'd have on Pat Robertson?" Willow asked thoughtfully.
"I suspect we'd each repel the other so strongly that we'd just shoot to opposite sides of the globe," Beverly said dryly.
They were walking past the hospital now. Willow felt her mind wandering back to that awful night when they had first learned of Joyce's collapse. She could feel Beverly's eyes resting on her with curiosity.
"This is the hospital where Buffy and Dawn's mother died," she explained, feeling Tara's own sadness roll off of her in waves.
"God-what else do those two have to face?" Beverly asked, more to herself than Willow or Tara, it seemed.
Looking at the imposing structure, Willow saw someone walking toward them, illuminated by the lights of the parking lot. She stiffened and reached into her pocket; but then she felt herself relax as recognition sank in.
"Everything OK?" Beverly asked quietly.
"Yeah-it's one of the good guys," Tara replied in an equally soft voice. She smiled at the friendly face arriving before them.
"Hello, Ben."
*****
"Ben, this is my aunt, Beverly Maclay. Aunt Bev, this is Ben..." Here Tara trailed off, looking questioningly at the intern.
"Dover," he supplied with a self-effacing smile.
Just as Willow was thinking how thoroughly he must hate his parents, she noticed that Beverly was rubbing her temples.
"Hi Beverly," Ben said easily. Beverly managed a smile, and shook his hand.
"Nice to meet you, Ben." She rubbed her temples again, grinning ruefully. "Sorry; I seem to be having a wee bit of a headache here; completely out of the blue."
Ben's gaze was sympathetic. "Sometimes I get those, too. Weird, isn't it?"
"You said it," Beverly nodded. "I was fine just a minute ago, and then it hit like a ton of bricks." She gave him a wan grin. "Anyway, don't worry-I'm not one of those people who meet doctors and immediately ask for free advice."
But Ben just laughed. "Hey, for all we know, I could be giving you a headache. I hear that from plenty of women." Then he blushed, as if realizing the various ways that his comment could be construed. "Are you sure you're OK?" he asked, his voice now the essence of professional objectivity.
"Yeah-I think it's passing," Beverly assured him. Willow, though, suspected she wasn't being entirely truthful. "So how do you know these two fine women?"
Ben's eyes took on a regretful cast. "I was involved with Mrs. Summers' case when she first noticed she wasn't feeling well. I met Buffy and then Willow and Tara and the rest of their friends over the next few weeks at one time or another." He turned to Willow. "How's Buffy doing?" His voice, Willow thought, was studiously neutral.
Willow shrugged. "It's been tough. I can't imagine how hard it must be to lose a parent, much less when you then have to turn around and raise your younger sister by yourself."
"Riley's probably a big help though," Ben commented. Now he was clearly putting effort into his nonchalance.
"Whenever we can find him," she replied cryptically. Glancing at Beverly, she could see in the stark glare of the light that the woman was growing pale. Tara had noticed it too.
"C'mon Aunt Bev. Whatever it is, it isn't going away. Let's get you home and see what we have in the way of headache medicines."
"Yeah, I think that's probably a good idea," Beverly managed, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes.
Ben was scribbling something on a piece of paper he'd pulled out of his windbreaker pocket. "Here's my number," he said, handing Willow the information. "Call me if you don't feel better. I mean it," he declared over Beverly's protests. "I keep pretty weird hours and I really do love what I do, so call me any time tonight or tomorrow if it doesn't go away and you're worried."
"Thanks Ben," Tara replied. "That really is sweet of you."
"No problem. It was great to see you again. And it was nice to meet you, Beverly," he added, smiling at Tara's aunt. "I hope you feel better." Then he moved off into the dark.
"Do you want to sit down?" Willow asked. She was worried at the intensity and sudden onset of Beverly's pain.
"No, I'm good. Really," she stressed, seeing their faces. "I'm probably just having a sugar high from all those cookies at Giles'." She smiled. "Actually, it really is starting to ease up now." She gave her temples a much lighter rubbing. "Yeah, it's definitely going away. Isn't that weird? Two minutes ago, it feels like somebody's shoving their fingernails into my brain, and the next..." She looked up suddenly, glancing first at Willow and Tara and then off into the darkness that Ben had just entered. "Whoa..."
"You don't think Ben has anything to do with Glory, do you?" Tara asked, visibly shocked.
"Ben?" Willow protested. "Every time I saw him at the hospital, I wanted to ask if he had a note from his mother to be out that late."
"Yeah, right-because evil always comes clearly adorned with horns and sinister countenances and preferably a few sixes etched into the forehead in plain view," Tara replied, arching one eyebrow.
"Well, did you pick up anything from him, Beverly?" Willow asked, turning to Tara's aunt, who was now stretching her neck as if trying to relieve a crick.
"Like what? Herpes?"
"No, like an aura, or a feeling, or maybe mild intestinal cramping. I don't know...anything." Willow could hear the frustration in her voice.
"No-he seemed like a friendly, genuinely kind person. All I know is that the second I met him, my head started to hurt and it just got worse until he left; and now the pain is almost totally gone." Beverly looked from one woman to the other. "What about you two? Don't you pick up on things like that; people not being who they say they are? What about that trip to the Nether Realms you told me about, Willow?"
Seeing Tara's horrified expression, Willow hastily explained, "I was telling Beverly about some of our various exploits, and I gave her the abridged version of what happened when Faith took over Buffy's body. Nothing too specific."
Like how we were both dripping with sweat and other body fluids and I pretty much came from the intensity of it all.
"Oh," Tara mumbled. "Yeah, well, that worked with Faith's little identity joy ride, but I never really noticed Ben."
"Neither did I," Willow chimed in.
"There's a shocker," Beverly commented dryly. "Just out of curiosity, was this Faith a little on the hot side?"
Tara's eyes said, You go first, and Willow suspected hers were playing the same feature. After a moment, she said, "Well, she's hot in a skanky kind of way...Not that I find that sort of look attractive."
"Right," Tara quickly chimed in.
"So all we have for evidence is my headache-notable for the intensity of both its onset and its remission." She shook her head. "Ally MacBeal would have a field day with it, provided she didn't pass out in court from hunger."
They were all quiet for a moment, pondering the implications of what had just happened...or seemed to happen, or hadn't happened, Willow realized-depending on how you looked at it.
Finally, Beverly sighed. "Let's get our women-lovin' selves home, women. I wanna call my sweetie and tell her to get her woman-lovin' self out here." She paused, then added quietly, "I need her."
*****
Part 27
"What time does her plane get in?" Willow asked, reaching out to hug Beverly as she walked into the hotel room. Tara, close behind her, did likewise.
"Just before three," Beverly replied, draining the last of her third coffee that day. "I was thinking of leaving in about half an hour."
Tara looked at her watch. "Are you going by way of Wisconsin? It's just past one, Bev, and the airport is all of twenty miles away."
"I just don't want to be late," her aunt huffed. "Besides, if it were Willow, you would have slept overnight in the terminal last night just in case the roads were closed today."
"She's got a point," Willow murmured.
"OK-how about we leave at a quarter till two and stop for coffee on the way?" Tara suggested.
"Are you sure that gives us enough time?" Beverly said skeptically. "I've heard about the California traffic."
"Beverly, unless the entire state of Nevada decides to stop by to see the Sunnydale Museum of String Art, we're in good shape."
"OK, OK...I know I'm being neurotic." She smiled slightly; a crooked grin that Willow recognized.
Did Quinn smile like that, too? Except that Beverly isn't related to them...Except that she is.
Forty-five minutes later, much of which was spent reassuring Beverly that she looked fine, looked great, looked absolutely wonderful and yes, she was a freak but no, not a bad one, they took off in the elder Maclay's rental car.
*****
They did indeed have plenty of time to spare. "I guess you two should have brought some school stuff to work on," Beverly said apologetically.
"Yeah, I've been meaning to read 'War and Peace,'" Tara replied dryly.
Finally, the irredeemably cheerful voice of the airport's announcer burst over the line to inform them that Southwest Flight 228 from Dallas was now arriving. Beverly jumped to her feet and took up a position perhaps twenty feet from the arrival door.
"Five bucks says I know what they'll be doing tonight," Willow nudged Tara as they followed her.
"Ten bucks says we'll hear what they do tonight," Tara muttered in reply. "So sometime between now and then we're picking up some ear plugs because I just don't need that."
Tanya St. Clair was a tall, athletic-looking woman with dark brown eyes and a wry grin. When she and Beverly had finally extracted themselves from each other-earning considerable gawk points from their fellow airport patrons in the process-she greeted Willow and Tara with quick hugs.
"I hear you two have been taking great care of Beverly," she said warmly.
"Yeah, well, we've been adequate tour guides, I think," Tara replied. "But she's been missing you like crazy."
"I hear you," Tanya murmured, pulling Beverly close. Looking quickly around the terminal, where a few travelers were still casting what they thought were subtle glances in their direction, she added, "Don't get many Black people in Sunnydale, do you?"
"Not as many as we should," Willow acknowledged ruefully. Thinking of Kendra, she added, "And the ones we do get tend to die."
"Well that sucks," Tanya commented dryly.
"But I'm sure they'll make a special effort for you, Honey," Beverly said reassuringly.
Tanya shook her head. "You know, if you're White and gay, you get looks. If you're Black and straight, you get looks. But girlfriends, if you're Black and gay-just step right up and prepare to be an object of enduring fascination."
"I've always said you're timeless," Beverly said proudly, as the four of them headed out through the sliding glass doors.
*****
Dinner that night looked like any other gathering of four people who are getting to know each other better...Selective reminiscences, political discussions regarding matters of common concern, and ongoing analysis of the impending apocalypse.
Willow and Tara gave Tanya a brief history of their nocturnal activities, and Tanya shared her thoughts on Beverly's unsolicited call to arms.
"It blows," she weighed in.
"Tanya, Sweetie, I love it when you talk dirty." Beverly grinned and twirled some more angel hair pasta onto her fork.
"And now, of course, my inimitable partner here will make a joke, hoping to thereby deflect the solemnity of the moment." And though she rolled her eyes as she said it, Willow knew that this was a conversation they had had many times over the past five years of their five-month relationship.
"Guilty as charged, and yet so unbelievably cute that you can't help but love me." Willow noticed that while Beverly's right hand was wielding her fork, her left was nowhere to be seen. She had a pretty good idea where it was.
"My love for you has never been the issue, Baby." Tanya turned back to Willow and Tara. "Let me ask y'all something."
Willow looked up sharply "Y'all." Someone has called me that before, but not here. Not in Sunnydale. Maybe an alternate reality? But this wasn't the time to figure it out.
"You two signed on for this, right? Of your own free will? You go out at least two, three times a week-more in May, it seems-and you stake and you behead and you ax and you curse and probably a slew of other things that you won't be putting on your curriculum vita when you go out on the job market. And you don't even get hazard pay?"
"Well, it's not like we're in it for the money," Tara argued.
"I'm not saying that. Of course you're not in it for the money. What I'm saying is that you give and give and give and if you get hurt, that's it. Your tough luck. And if the very worst happens, like with Kendra and Miss Calendar, does the Society for the Preservation of the Species pick up the funeral expenses? No, they don't. Am I right?"
Willow shifted uncomfortably. What could she say?
"Yeah, I know," Tanya grinned. "I'm just a Summer's Eve douche commercial of soft focus and sunshine, aren't I? I'm not trying to be a downer; I just don't like how everyone's life gets tossed around croutons on some giant, inter-dimensional salad and we don't even know who's holding the tongs."
Beverly placed her glass carefully back onto its cardboard coaster. "You know what I think?" she asked quietly.
Tanya gazed at her. "What?"
"I think maybe it's easier to be angry with whatever forces put this stuff in front of us than it is to be angry with me for choosing to go along. Because it is a choice, Babe, when you get right down to it. Nobody held a gun to my head." She held Tanya's gaze evenly.
Willow became intensely preoccupied with the parmesan cheese shaker. She felt Tara grip her hand tightly on the seat between them.
"Maybe I am," Tanya finally conceded. "The thing is, there's no way you wouldn't do your part. I know you, Girl. And I chose to stick with you, even though nobody held a gun to my head." She sighed. "So maybe I'm just railing against everything that makes it seem damn near impossible to get a good night's sleep in this life."
Beverly leaned forward and kissed her gently, then whispered something in her ear. Tanya just arched her brows and pushed her away with absolutely no real indignation or force.
Probably something about the likelihood of getting any sleep tonight, Willow thought.
As they walked out to the car afterwards, Tanya lit up a cigarette. Nodding to Willow, who had fallen in step with her behind Tara and Beverly, she said, "Bev's been after me to give these up since the day we met. I told her that if she does her stint in the Key Protection Service and makes it through, I'll quit." Exhaling, she added softly, "She's risking her life to save the world. I figured I should put something up on the table, too."
As they lay in bed later, Willow curved back against the warmth of Tara's body, she asked quietly, "What's trump?"
She could almost feel Tara's bemused gaze at the back of her head. "Are we talking Donald or cards?"
Willow turned, sliding her leg between Tara's. "Cards. What's trump in this hand? Or, to be more specific, who?"
"Will, Sweetie, walk toward the sound of my voice and then give me the decoder ring to what you're talking about."
"OK, see, the monks decide that in order to best protect all of humanity, they'd alter the reality of Goddess-only-knows how many people. Basically, they over-ruled somebody, or something-whatever or whoever had set the previous reality in motion. But are they the final word? Could somebody come along and trump their ace?"
Tara's palm against her cheek was warm. Had she ever not known the feeling? Was there a reality out there in which that hand never touched her? And if so, could she please, goddess, make sure that it never threatened this one?
"I don't know, Sweetheart. I wish I could offer you proof that there's some kind of method to all this madness, but I can't. The only thing I know for sure is that you're lying here next to me, and you love me like I love you. I can handle the existential uncertainty of the species so long as that truth holds."
Willow pressed herself as tightly as she could against Tara's warmth. "I know," she sighed. "The whole thing just offends my sense of order and stability." Kissing Tara's shoulder, she added, "It's either arbitrary or it's cruel. Either way, I'm not a satisfied customer."
She felt Tara laugh softly against her hair. "Well, we can look into legal action after it's all over."
She finally fell asleep, well after Tara had done so; and her dreams were filled with crazy bottle-blondes and books that were suddenly re-written half-way through their plot and finally Tara, feeding her lobster with her fingers. She was grateful, the next morning, that she had spent the longest time in the last scene.
*****
The four of them met for lunch the next day at the same pizza parlor where Beverly had had her "Holy shit, it's the Key!" epiphany.
"You want to meet the rest of the Scoobies?" Beverly asked Tanya with a grin.
"Only if the ex-demon asks me about our sex life," Tanya replied easily. "I brought along some videos."
Beverly's expression of horror, nano-second in duration though it was, told Willow that just such tapes existed.
I bet Tara would look totally hot in a sexy vid...Wonder if I could get her to go for it?
"When I cringe and run from the restaurant, I'm sure you know it's not homophobia," Tara commented. "Just good old-fashioned family boundaries."
"Yeah-let's see if the monks can alter reality to erase the last ten seconds," Beverly muttered. She glanced at her watch and pushed back her chair. "Time to feed the implacable demons of parking. Spare change, if you please."
Moments later, she was shoving a random assortment of quarters and dimes into the gaping maw of the meter. As she turned to leave, she heard a sudden scuffling in the alley to her left. She took a half-step toward the sound.
"Hey-anybody there? Everything OK?" In lieu of a verbal response came a louder clanging, like metal tumbling about itself. And then she heard-or she could have sworn she heard-a faint gasping, as if someone were fighting to draw breath.
And because she was the kind of person who did things like help strangers and talk to people in elevators and sign on to protect mystical balls of energy, she dashed into the alley to see if someone needed assistance. As the darkness of the space closed in around her, she looked up to see a very short creature with serious skin problems standing on top of a trash dumpster. He was hoisting a club, and seemed intent on bringing it down with no small measure of antipathy upon her head.
"Oh, fu-"
*****
Which was how Beverly came to find herself in Glory's penthouse. She awoke to hear that Hell God's shrill voice reaming new and varied orifices into her minions.
"You're lucky she's still alive," she hissed. "If her skull's cracked or she has some kind of weird brain damage, she's not going to be of any help to me; and if that happens, you won't be of any help to me, ever again, because I'll pull your spleens out through your nose."
"We're so blindingly sorry, Most Abundantly Divine One," came a quivering reply. "We thought that she might prove difficult to subdue, given her special status."
"As what? A big dyke? She's a Protector, you worthless lump of idiocy, not a Slayer. You know what her power is? She gets near me, and I get all woozy. To anybody else, she's just another woman in comfortable shoes."
"We pathetically beg your most undeserved forgiveness, Oh Stunningly Rapturous Yet Tasteful One. We only wished to be certain of delivering the foul one to you."
"Hey," Beverly managed in a hoarse whisperer. "I'm fine with 'dyke,' but 'foul' just won't do. Besides," she added, glancing from one toady to the next, "when was the last time your face saw the business end of an exfoliant?"
Speaking left her nauseous. She dropped her head for a moment, hoping desperately that she didn't toss her cookies in front of this crew. She could feel ropes cutting into her wrists and ankles, binding her to the hard wooden chair in which she sat. She heard rather than saw Glory take another step away from her, although she was already skulking close to the back of the room.
"Ooh, look-it's a Protector...left so very unprotected. You know why you're here, of course."
"You wanted to ask me to the Prom and didn't want to do it in front of my friends?"
Oh God, if she's gonna kill me, please let it be quick. Please.
"No, silly; I don't play for your team. I don't really play for any team, to be honest. I'm more of a free agent kinda girl."
"More like a free agent kinda whack job," Beverly corrected her, knowing as she did so that Glory probably wasn't terribly receptive to constructive feedback.
"You say potato, I say tuberous food source first cultivated by the Mayans," Glory blithely replied. "But let's cut to the main feature, shall we? You know the identity of the Key, and I need that information. Let's work together on this one, shall we?"
"Let's see about getting you eaten by a giant slug, shall we?"
"Oh, honestly...You're all about empowering women, aren't you? And what could be more empowering than helping a woman-a God-regain her rightful throne? Let's face it, Sweetie-it's right out of Marion Zimmer Bradley."
"What, they have Barnes and Noble where you're from?" Keeping her talking, Bev.
Why? she suddenly asked herself. Nobody can beat a Hell God; you're not going to give her the information she wants. So, what-keep her talking, so you can be good and conscious when she starts to torture you?
I gotta try
Glory, meanwhile, was giving a detailed description of the horrors that would ensue if Beverly didn't divulge the Key's identity, and showed an impressive knowledge of human anatomy in so doing.
"Listen, Glo-do you mind if I call you 'Glo'?-let's just face the fact that we are separated by profound ideological differences. Is there someway we can set aside those differences and just be real with each other? Just be ourselves? Me, a dedicated if somewhat irreverent woman who teaches inner-city school children; you, a profoundly disturbed deity in exile from hell." Squinting, she could dimly make out Glory huddled at the back of the room. "Ebony, and ivory, live together in perfect harmony..." she sang in a remarkably off-key voice. Beverly knew she had no ear for music.
"What in the name all things unholy is she doing?" Glory demanded, her voice hitting a new octave.
"I believe it's a popular song from the 1980's, Thou Most Lusciously Amoral One," came a helpful voice from behind her. "I believe Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson sang it.
"Michael gets out, and I can't get back," Glory muttered.
"Side by side on my piano keyboard, oh Lord..."
"Shut up," Glory screeched, flinging a vase which shattered inches to her left. "I'm sick of this...Sick of everyone trying to keep me away from what I need. If you were stranded in the desert, don't you think I'd give you a drink of water?"
"I'm guessing no," Beverly replied, trying to keep her nausea gauge at half-tank.
"Well, no-I'd probably taunt you and hold the glass just beyond your reach," Glory admitted. "But that's because I'm a Hell God. I'm not wired to be beneficent. You-you help the Key; you help strangers in an alley; you help snot-fricken'-nosed kids...but you won't help me."
"At the risk of arguing the subjective nature of good and evil, those snot-nosed kids aren't planning to annihilate the human race. At least not the ones in PS-367."
"Fine," Glory hissed. "You think I'm not getting closer? I know the Key's here. I know it's in human form. I know it's one of the newer members of the Slayer's circle. I can just take them one at a time-the new ones, the old ones...Sooner or later, somebody's either gonna spill the beans."
"You don't know this crowd," Beverly said evenly.
"I could just keep you here, and kill them one by one until you gave in."
"Oh, yeah-that would really put me in a helpful mood. Save your breath for your blow-up doll, OK?"
"Or maybe I wouldn't have to kill them all." Glory's voice was suddenly, sickeningly smooth. "I could just take the one. The one who came because she just couldn't stand to be away from you. You think you might be able to come up with a name if her life depended on it?"
Beverly wondered if they could hear her heart pounding in her chest. Of course they could-it was deafening; cacophonous.
"What's the matter, Bev? Suddenly you're very, very quiet, and you were so spirited just a moment ago."
Beverly felt the nausea cresting again, and this time it had nothing to do with her injuries. This was the worst, and she had done it. How could she have been so stupid? So selfish? To have Tanya come here in the middle of all of this? When Beverly was certain to be a target in one way or another?
"Baby, if you stay, I can't even pretend that you won't be at risk. The safest thing would be for you to take off now and find some nice woman who isn't mixed up in something so crazy...And who manages to balance her check-book," she added. Maybe if she could laugh about this, her heart wouldn't rip completely out of her chest with the pain.
And Tanya had stared at her, that searching, fathomless gaze that Beverly now knew was an invitation-an invitation to walk into something real and honest, and not back down, not take refuge in half-truths and irony and easy outs. She stared at Beverly, and asked simply, "Do you love me?"
And Beverly, because she knew that Tanya knew the answer but needed to hear it, had gazed back her and replied, "Yes. With everything I am, I love you."
"Then I stay," Tanya had answered in return. "And we don't ever, ever have this conversation again."
That had been months ago, right after she had learned she was a Protector. But this-how could she possibly refuse? Could she really stand by and watch Glory kill her partner?
Finally, she looked up, and stared hard at the dim shape of Glory at the far wall. "If you make one move toward her, I'll terminate my existence," she said slowly. "I'll be dead before you can say 'Questionable Hair Rinse.'"
"Daddy, how come you beat Uncle Quinn and Uncle Nathan so much when you guys play poker? Are you just luckier?"
The eyes were mischievous; the smile, a welcome into a secret. "I'm no luckier than they are, Baby Girl. I just bluff better."
"You're lying," Glory retorted. "Your hands are tied; your feet are tied. You can't raise a finger to hurt yourself."
"I don't have to," she replied evenly. "It's mental, and it's all mine."
"This is nothing but a pathetic bluff," Glory shouted.
"Then your decision should be an easy one, shouldn't it? Just go ahead with your threat, secure in the knowledge that I won't die right in front of you without ever saying a word."
When Glory didn't answer, Beverly could feel confidence edging back into her heart. "But if that isn't your final answer, then just drop the idea of touching her, even coming near her. Because at that point, my life doesn't matter and I'll kill myself just to piss you off. Got that, Oh Skanky Ditzy Compulsively Masturbating One?"
Hey-that was a good one, Maclay.
Then she looked up and even through the darkness and distance she could feel Glory's fury radiating off her.
Of course, now she's really angry...
*****
"So at the risk of getting personal, do you two have an 'Understandable Indiscretion' clause?" Tanya asked, wiping pizza sauce from her chin.
"Um...having a hard time matching the noun with the adjective," Willow replied hesitantly.
"Oh, we're not talking random flings," Tanya hastily assured her. "I mean, specific-albeit completely unattainable-women. If by some miracle you ended up with the chance to sleep with them, you'd be forgiven for doing so."
As Willow and Tara looked at each other with uncertainty, Tanya continued, "For me, it's Halle Barry. If she shows up and says, 'Hey Tanya-wanna make with the hot sex?' I get to go for it. Oh, and Charlize Theron. Bev...let's see, I think she went with Sandra Bullock and maybe Ashley Judd."
"Sounds like a fun game," Tara acknowledged, until she felt Willow's eyes fall upon her with the force of a bludgeon. "At least, fun for other people who aren't me. It's not so much my thing."
Tanya laughed; it was a deep, rich sound that Tara liked immensely. She drew some comfort from the fact that her aunt's partner hadn't lost her sense of humor. She watched Tanya glance first at her watch, and then out the wide restaurant window.
"How long does it take a person to put money in a meter? We only parked a block away." She looked at Tara, who saw nascent fear emerge in the dark eyes across from her, felt it slide across the table into her own heart. There was a brief silence, and then all three women had pushed back their chairs and were heading for the door, oblivious to the manager's angry shouts.
Moments later, it was clear that Beverly wasn't on her way back to the restaurant; wasn't at the car; wasn't anywhere that they could find her. Tara felt dread slinking along her veins until it threatened to drown her from within. As Tanya spun to look at her, she saw terror and rage and something else-a fierce and furious determination. She held Tara's gaze for several seconds, her breathing shallow. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.
"How do we find this bitch?" she muttered.
*****
Part 28
Girlfriend needs a mood stabilizer,
Aloud, she replied, "It's nice, Glo. Plush, yet just this side of garish."
Glory laughed, delighted. "I'm so glad you like it! Especially since this suite will be your last stop on the subway o' Life."
"No time for that pony ride?" Beverly asked.
"'Fraid not," Glory answered, and her voice sounded almost regretful. "But we can move the torture from room to room, so you can sample all the amenities."
"How about the bathroom?" Beverly suggested.
"How about the name of the Key?" Glory countered.
*****
"Tanya, wait-we don't know where Glory is," Tara said reluctantly.
"Then let's find her." Tanya's voice was calm and collected and absolutely chilling.
Tara looked at Willow in anguish. Was this really happening? Had her aunt really been snatched away from them in broad daylight?
She knew the answer to both of those questions, even before she registered Willow's gaze, a look filled with both fear and compassion.
"We'll find her, Baby," Willow assured her, in that voice that told her that no matter how Big the Bad, Willow would never let her face it alone.
Tara held onto her hands and drew a deep breath, then turned back to Tanya. "I think we should find the others," she said simply.
*****
"You know, Glo, we could have some difficulty with the torture bit." That's it, Maclay...Keep it light. This chica doesn't want to fuck you up beyond recognition; at least not yet, not before she gets her info.
Wonder how she'll take the news that she's not getting her info?
"And what might the problem be?" Glory asked, in the same solicitous tone.
"Well, I don't exactly advertise this fact-I mean, in the world of education, a certain discretion is called for-but I'm really into the 'S' part of 'S&M.' I mean it-the more it hurts, the giddier I get. Could make for a long and ultimately frustrating experience for you."
"Is that right?" Glory asked, her crossed arms barely visible in the dark recess.
"Oh yeah," Beverly enthused. "If you really wanna inflict some damage, I'd suggest a glass of Merlot and a warm bath with sandalwood foaming gel."
"Really?"
"Definitely. It's hurting me to even say the words."
Tentatively, like a squirrel considering a run across an interstate highway, a voice piped up from Beverly's right.
"Please forgive my most presumptuous and mind-numbingly stupid interruption, Thou Eternally Scrumptious One, but I believe the Protector lies."
"You think so, Einstein?" Beverly flinched as a vase shattered next to the toady who had just spoken. "Boy, nothing gets by you, does it?" Glory took a quick step toward her, and then halted, teetering slightly. "What the hell is it about you?" she muttered weakly, stepping back as far from Beverly as she could.
"I dunno," Beverly shrugged. "A lot of women fall all over themselves to get close to me."
"Damn it," came the low hiss. "Why is this so hard? All I wanna do is get back home, prop myself up on a few eternally suffering souls in front of a nice roaring fire, and spend some quality time with my peeps; my two buds; the ones who spit me out into this little slice of suburban hell. I'm so close to the Key I can practically feel it; you know who it is and you won't tell me; and before long, that humanity-infested twin of mine is gonna show up and want the remote."
OK, didn't know that...
Wonder what else Her Royal Insanity would like to share with the group?
"Glo, you oughtta give this realm a chance. What's so bad about it?"
She heard Glory slam a fist into the étagère beside her, sending expensive curios flying against the wall.
"What's so bad? What isn't? The noise; the mortality; the smells; the humans." Beverly could feel two baleful eyes glaring at her. "And look at you-you're not human, and you're going to die for them?"
For Tanya? About a thousand times, if needed.
"But what about your sister? If she's human, doesn't she at least bring a wee smile to that sad face of yours?"
"Sister? What the...?" Then a harsh, grating laugh barked out of the shadows. "Oh, you're talking about my mortal coil!" Glory's voice was heavy with disdain. "Lemme tell you something, Bev...Opposites do not attract, ever. My brother, for want of a better word, is as dedicated to saving humans as I am to eating them for breakfast."
Brother?
*****
Within 45 minutes, Tara, Willow, and Tanya had been joined at Dominic's Pizza Den by Giles, Buffy, and Dawn. Willow had conveyed the urgency of the situation as explicitly as possible without naming Glory or the Key by name. Introductions had been hasty and strained, particularly where Dawn and Tanya were involved.
"You say that Beverly left to put more time on the meter, and after a few minutes you became worried?" Giles' expression conveyed his own concern.
"Right," Willow nodded.
"But if it was only a few minutes, they couldn't have gone too far, right?" Buffy asked, looking at Giles.
"I don't know that that really applies here, Buffy," the Watcher countered regretfully. "We don't know that Glory is constrained by typical parameters such as speed."
"Except that I bet Glory wasn't there; not in the alley, anyway," Tara put in suddenly.
"Why is that?" Giles looked puzzled.
"Because Glory can't be around Bev without getting a little woozy, remember?" Tara replied.
"That's right," Willow joined in quickly. "She'd have to send her scabby little sycophants to-to do it." She stopped abruptly, watching Tanya's face at this last part.
"And we have no evidence that Glory's minions have any particular powers," Giles said thoughtfully. "So perhaps she was taken somewhere close."
"I can't really see any of those crusty little half-pints pulling away in a '95 Civic," Buffy mused. "And you say the rental car wasn't touched?"
"Nothing," Tara concurred, looking at Tanya. The other woman's silence was beginning to worry her.
"Tanya, is Beverly strong? Could she have put up a struggle; made it difficult for them to...well, to take her?" Tara could see that Giles hated asking the question.
But Tanya's jaw only tightened for a moment before she replied, "She's tough, I know that. But I guess it depends on whether they took her by surprise, and whether they-whether they used any weapons." As she said this last part, Tara could see her swallow hard, trying to keep her voice steady.
Dawn, she realized, hadn't spoken at all. She suspected that Buffy and Giles had tried to discourage the teenager from accompanying them, to no avail. She knew that Dawn had taken an instant liking to her aunt; more to the point, she was fairly certain that Dawn was already carrying a heavy burden of guilt. Beverly's kidnapping would surely worsen that.
"So do we fan out?" Willow was asking. "Start from here and work outwards, looking for possible living quarters? There's a cyber-café on the next block; I could pull up the street plans and rule out some places, save us some time." Tara could practically see her girlfriend shifting into problem-solving mode. Tanya, by contrast, appeared to be shifting into vengeance mode, judging from the fury that practically radiated from her.
"That might well be our best option, Willow," Giles assented.
"Tanya, I know you must be crazy right now, but remember, Glory's not gonna want to hurt her. Bev has something she needs."
Tara halted abruptly as she was reaching out to Tanya. Hurt...Bev, hurting...Her head hurting so bad, so suddenly...
"Ben," she practically shouted.
*****
"OK, so I may be way outta line with the personal questions here, but you have a brother?"
"You're not going to try some family therapy thing are you? Tell me that communication is the key to any good relationship?" Glory's voice was bored, and Beverly knew that that was a bad sign.
"So Glo and the bro aren't close?"
Glory's laugh sounded anything but humorous. "Beverly, Beverly...Methinks you're stalling." Turning to one of her toadies, she said conversationally, "I think we should start the persuasion techniques now, Jinx."
"Gladly, Most Curiously Strong One," came the eager reply. "What would you have us do?"
"Hmm...I think to start, we'll go with something distinctive but not too extreme," Glory mused.
"Oh God, not the Merlot!" Beverly screamed.
Glory chuckled. "You got some brass ovaries, girl." She paused, and then added, "I'll have to soak them a few hours before I eat them."
*****
"Ben? What's he got to do with this?" Giles asked, perplexed.
Tara hastily recounted the chance meeting two nights ago, and Beverly's inexplicable reaction.
"So you think Ben's involved with Glory somehow?" Buffy's voice was skeptical.
"I don't know," Tara shrugged. "But there's no denying the fact that her headache was severe and the fact that it was perfectly synchronized to his coming and going."
"He gave me his number, too-remember?" Willow said excitedly.
Tanya looked hard at Willow; Tara could see the effort it was taking for her aunt's partner to keep it together. "Get him on the phone," she said simply.
As Willow began to rummage through her bag for Ben's information, Giles glanced at the front section of a Sunnydale Prism that had been left on the table to their right.
"Hullo, what's this?" he murmured, retrieving the paper. "'Gathering of Robed Horsemen Draws Citation,'" he read. Scanning the article, he explained, "It appears that a patrol car happened upon a large group of men dressed in black robes, loitering in the woods outside of town. Apparently, they travel by horse," he concluded.
"Think they have anything to do with this?" Buffy asked.
"I don't know. According to the story, they were all served with citations for creating a disturbance and failure to pick up their animals' droppings. They're being held for further questioning."
"Wow...Stealth, not so much an option when horses get involved," Buffy murmured.
Tara had been watching Dawn during this exchange. She sensed that the girl was close to tears. Finally, she reached across the table and took Dawn's hand in her own.
"Dawn, Sweetie, it'll be OK. We'll find her," she said softly.
"Yeah, Dawnie-you know our motto: A day without mortal peril is like a day we never experience."
But Dawn wasn't looking at either of them. Instead, she was staring at Tanya.
"I'm sorry," she finally whispered, her voice tight with misery.
Tanya didn't insult Dawn by asking "What for?" She only sighed, and shook her head.
"I know that if it weren't for me, Beverly wouldn't be in danger," the teenager continued, ignoring Buffy's warning glance.
Tanya looked at her for a long moment, then dropped her head into her hands. Tara wondered if she were crying, but when the older woman looked up again, her eyes were dry as she gazed intently at the Key.
"Dawn, I'll be honest with you-when I first heard about all of this, I hated you." Dawn flinched at the words. "I didn't even know you," Tanya continued, "but I hated what you meant to our lives; I hated the thought that Beverly could die because of you."
"Hey-enough with the 'H' word, OK?" Buffy interjected, her voice laced with hostility.
"Let her talk," Dawn muttered. "I'd rather hear the truth than a bunch of reassurances I don't believe."
"Tough girl," Tanya murmured. "Good for you." She rubbed her hands across her eyes as if trying to erase an image from her mind. Then she looked back at Dawn. "Thing is, Girlfriend, I suddenly realized that if it weren't for you, Beverly wouldn't even be here; at least, I don't think she would. So it's kind of a Catch-22, you know? Beverly could die to protect the reason she was created." She turned, staring out the window for a moment, then turned back to Dawn. A rueful half-smile crossed her lips. "And then I get here and I meet you and you're all of what-fifteen?-and you're worried sick about my baby, and Tara and Willow obviously think you're the bee's knees, and I don't hate you...I just want Beverly back. So I'm sorry if my social skills aren't on their A-Game, Dawn, but don't blame yourself, OK? Because I don't."
Dawn swallowed heavily, and then nodded. She chewed her lower lip for a moment, and then said so softly that Tara had to strain to hear her, "I'll do anything it takes to get her back, Tanya. I promise you."
Suddenly, Willow gave a muted shout of triumph. "Got it! 'Ben Dover-234-0126,'" she read.
"His name is Ben Dover? That's gotta have some issues attached to it," Buffy muttered.
"Let's see what he knows," Tanya said decisively.
"What do we say?" Willow asked, her fingers poised over the keypad of her cell phone. "'Hi, Ben. Say, are you involved with a Hell God? Just wondering.' Not much nuance."
"Buffy, you talk," Tara instructed. "Tell him you need to see him."
"Why me?" Buffy asked, but her question was too purposefully innocent for Tara to grant it any credence.
"Because he'll be more responsive to you, and you know it," she replied. "Ask him if you can come over to his place."
"What if he's at the hospital?" Giles interjected.
"Then try to talk to him in person; tell him you'll come over later, when he's done, and see if he'll give you the address. That may even work better-we can check the place out while he's gone."
"Damn, Tara-there's more spy girl to you than I knew," Buffy replied admiringly. Tara watched with faint amusement as Buffy unconsciously settled her face into Subtle Flirtation Mode. "OK, here goes."
*****
My left hip...That doesn't hurt. Just concentrate on your trusty left glute, Maclay, and you won't be so upset about that blood pouring out of your face...
Such positive self-talk was interrupted by the harsh ring of a phone. She tried to lift her head, but her view of the Hell God was obscured even more by the blood that ran down over and into her eyes. Her hearing, though, was still good.
"Damn it, Benjamin, not now!" The voice was as harsh as it had been for the past hour, but now it was also tinged with frustration. Beverly could hear a struggle emanating from the shadows at the back of the room.
Who the hell's she fighting? I never passed out; I know nobody came in.
After several seconds, the scuffle seemed to subdue, and then she heard nothing. Even the minions had been silenced, it seemed. Finally, a slender figure emerged from the shadows.
Who's the guy in drag?
*****
"Hi-is this Ben?" Buffy's voice bordered on breathless.
Tara caught Willow's eyes across the table. They had compared notes before with regard to Buffy's somewhat split personality where men were concerned. Demon-slaying warrior by night; occasionally dippy Valley Girl by day.
"Oh, good-I'm so glad I caught you. Are you at work right now?"
Buffy gave a quick shake of her head to the others. "Well, I hope it's OK that I called you...What? Oh, Willow gave me your number...Yeah, I kinda asked her for it."
Now Tanya had joined in with the raised eyebrows. Glancing over at Dawn, she muttered, "If you're into guys, Dawn, take notes." She gave the Key a small grin.
"I was wondering if I could stop over...Yeah...Well, I need to talk to you. About what? Oh-uh, about...about my spleen."
Her spleen? Better than STD's, I guess...
"Yeah...Oh, I just have a couple of questions...Plus, I'd like to see you. Yeah...Is this a good time? Oh? Why not?" Her glance to the rest of them conveyed her suspicion at his response.
"OK...What about later? Oh-you have a double shift? Well, I guess we won't be getting together, will we? Tomorrow night? Well, that might work...What if I come over to your place?"
My God, if this guy isn't involved with any of this, he's gotta think Buffy's the easiest thing since falling off a log.
"Dinner at Antonio's? I dunno...I may need to take action on my spleen before then. I'll get back to you." So saying, she hung up abruptly.
"OK, guys, Ben definitely does not want me to see his place. Either he's got a crazy wife locked in the attic, or something else is going on. Will, can you hack into the hospital files and find his home address?"
"Consider it done," Willow replied, speaking literally-she had started the task when Buffy was still on the phone. "Dover, Benjamin K. Lives at 228 Delgado." She looked up hopefully. "That's only a couple of blocks from here."
"Let's go," Tanya said, in a voice that left little room for debate.
*****
Don't pass out, Maclay. Whatever just happened, Glory's not happy about it, and this may be your only chance to get out of here.
She could barely make out the shape of the person approaching her.
Where's Glory? And why is this guy wearing her dress?
She tried to focus on him; tried to form words. The closer he came, however, the more she hurt. Blood was streaming down over her face, blurring her vision; she was already in worse pain than she had ever imagined; and now it felt as if her very brain were about to explode. She dimly recognized it as a different kind of pain...She had felt that before-when? Recently, wasn't it? Nausea rose up in her at the force of it; she fought to hold onto consciousness.
Two nights ago-that was it. When she met that guy...Ben, wasn't it?
She heard him take another step toward her and knew that she would pass out with the pain. Through the roaring in her ears, she dimly heard a voice from her left beseeching, "You must leave, Most Rippled Muscular One. You must allow Glory to return."
"No...No, I have to help her. Help me untie her, you scabby little wretch." Beverly recognized the voice, though now it held none of its previous friendliness. She heard an agonized sob wrench from someone nearby; with an almost-detached surprise, she realized that it had come from her.
"Please, Your Illustrious Symbiotic Handsomeness...The great Glorificus will be most displeased if-" The pathetic voice fell silent abruptly, only to resume with greater urgency. "Someone approaches, Sir. If you will not allow Glory to return, you must leave at once."
"No-no, I should stay and just get this over with, right now...one way or another. Maybe it's not too late." Through her agony, Beverly could hear the desperation in his voice.
"Do you really think that, Most Ambivalent One? That you can explain all of this to anyone-even the lovely mortal who just called-and they would understand? Of course not. Go, Sir, if you still refuse Glory her home. We will take care of this one."
Oh, well shit.
But the sabers piercing her brain had stilled, just a little bit, as Ben stepped uncertainly away from her.
"I'm-God, I'm so sorry," he finally whispered, anguish thick in his retreating voice.
Seconds later, she heard the door burst open. By now, her eyes were completely useless, coated with her own blood. But she knew it was Tanya; knew it even before she heard the choked sound of her own name called out in the voice that had first serenaded her years ago.
"Bev-oh God, Baby."
She tried to warn her; tried to tell her that there were still enemies in the room-albeit extremely short and poorly dressed ones. But she couldn't speak. Her tongue was too thick within her mouth and she wasn't totally sure how she was even breathing at the moment.
"Buffy!" She recognized Willow's voice. "Scabby minion, two o'clock!"
Bev could hear the sounds of a quick and decisive struggle. From her left, she thought she heard several creatures scurrying off, hoping to avoid their cohort's fate.
At that point, she stopped worrying much about what else was going on because Tanya had reached her and was pulling frenetically on the ropes that held her.
"Baby-just hold on, OK? We'll get you out of here. You're safe now, Sweetie." The words tumbled out in an anguished sob.
"Here-hold this li'l fella, Giles. I think he's gonna be a big help to us in the near future." Beverly could hear Buffy shove the vanquished and now-groveling Assistant to the Hell God aside and dart over to her. Within seconds, the ropes were untied. Beverly felt herself floating off, almost as if she now knew that she could afford to; that she was finally safe. She watched herself fall into Tanya's arms; watched the strong arms encircle her and pull her into a gentle but fiercely protective embrace.
The last thing she remembered was the sound of her own voice saying, "I'm in big trouble for this one, aren't I?" and Tanya's soft, sweet laughter, threaded with her tears, spilling down over her soul as she finally let go.
*****
Part 29
Tara was only now beginning to trust that her aunt had survived Glory's "hospitality." She, Willow, and Tanya had taken Beverly to Sunnydale General's ER unit, where Willow had assumed responsibility for watching out for Ben.
"We don't know exactly what he has to do with all of this, but I don't want him anywhere near her," Tara had whispered to Willow as they approached the admission desk.
Beverly had regained consciousness on the ride to the hospital. "I'm alive," she marveled. "Son of a bitch, I'm really alive."
"Yeah, Baby, you are," Tanya had murmured, doing her best to staunch the flow of blood from Beverly's wounds. "At least until they get you all cleaned up and back on your feet. And then I am going to kick your ass from downtown to Denver and back. What the hell were you thinking about?"
Beverly had managed to give a synopsis of her kidnapping, and Tanya had been distinctly nonplused at the narrative.
"Wait a minute-you chose to run into that alley?"
"Well, it sounded like someone was in trouble. You know me...I act first; think later."
"OK, so I know you didn't ask for my opinion on the subject, but you may wanna rethink that approach to life," Willow had offered tentatively.
"Oh, it's fine, Willow," Tanya had assured her. "If Beverly wants to run off into dark alleys, knowing she's a major player in the foiling of a Hell God, who are we to cramp her style?"
At the hospital-where Ben had refrained from making an appearance-Beverly had received 38 stitches in various cuts on her forehead and face. There were no broken bones, although she had an angry bruise across her temple. The ER physician had recommended she stay overnight for observation, but the four women, after a hurried summit, decided that Beverly would be safer under their own care. After receiving various medications for pain and infection, as well as explicit instructions for after-care and warning signs to be aware of, they had wheeled Beverly back out the to the car and headed home.
She and Tanya had decided to switch hotels; she waited with Tara and Willow while her partner checked them out of the Ramada.
"Sorry about the scare, Sweetie; but I gotta say, that was one helluva rescue mission."
"Well, you know-just another day in the life of those crazy Maclays, right?" Tara had tried to keep her tone light, suspecting that her aunt wasn't in any condition to have an extended conversation on the complete horror of the day.
Two hours later, Tanya had deposited them back at Tara's dorm; Beverly had nodded off to sleep again in the front seat. "We'll call you later, just to check in and let you know how we're doing." As Tara pulled on the door handle, she felt Tanya's hand resting on her arm.
"We wouldn't have found her without you, Tara. And I will never, ever forget that."
Tara only nodded, looking first at Tanya's fierce, exhausted face and then her aunt's sleeping form. I don't want to lose these people. I just found them.
*****
As Willow clicked the deadbolt into place, Tara collapsed into bed. "You know, I will be really quite OK if I'm never, ever that scared again in my entire life."
"Good luck on that one," Willow said, but her tone was gentle. She pulled the drapes shut and joined Tara on the bed. "How you doin', Baby? This day took it out of me, and I'm not her niece."
Tara's laugh sounded brittle to her own ears. "Hey-can't get all upset about every little mortal danger that presents itself to someone I love, can I? Oh wait-I can. I do." Turning to face Willow, she whispered, "I'm tired of this, Sweetie. I haven't been fighting the bad guys even half as long as you have, and I'm already tired of it. Every time I think my life can't get crazier, it does. I mean, I don't need it to be nice and calm; I think I ended up here, doing this, for a reason. But today..." She rolled back and gazed up at the ceiling. "Today, charging into that room and seeing Beverly tied up and bleeding...And then seeing Tanya's face, throughout the whole ordeal...Willow, I don't know how she would have survived if Glory had killed Bev; I really don't. And that's-that's what I can't shake." She trailed off, crossing her arms over her face as if to shield herself from her own thoughts.
"What, Baby? What can't you shake?" Willow's voice was soft as she brushed the back of her hand over Tara's arm.
After several moments, Tara rolled over to face her. "I watched Tanya nearly lose her partner today, Willow. I saw her face when she realized Bev was missing; I saw her trying so hard to keep it together with Buffy and Giles and Dawn; and I saw her when we got to Glory's, that one God-awful moment when we didn't know if Bev was alive or dead. I saw her, Willow, and even while I was focusing on finding my aunt, another part of me kept thinking: That could be me. I could be in her place, wondering where you were and if you were hurt and oh, God, if you were even alive...And I couldn't survive it, Willow; I couldn't. I don't care about fighting the good fight or going on because it's the right thing to do-I care about you. You're the reason I'm in this fight, Willow, and I'm sorry if that sounds selfish or short-sighted but it's true." She paused, drawing a shuddering breath, and then cupped her hands around Willow's face, now wet with tears. "If anything ever happens to you, Willow, I'm gone. I mean it-I have absolutely no interest in seeing what happens in the next episode, because for me the show ends at that moment."
Willow was a dim blur through her tears, but she felt warm, strong hands stroking her face. She let the tears fall, trying desperately to repel the image of Willow, tied and bleeding and suffering.
"Tara-Baby, look at me." Willow's voice was practically a whisper, yet its strength compelled Tara to do as she asked. Willow brushed away her tears with her fingers, and then her lips. She brushed kisses over Tara's cheeks and eyes and when she finally rested upon her mouth, Tara could taste the salt of her own tears.
Finally her terror ebbed slightly. She willed herself to focus on her partner, her mate, who was lying here next to her, warm and alive and constant.
"Tara, the last two months have been one long emotional earthquake for you. I know you said you were handling it," she stressed, over Tara's objections, "and you are. But Baby, there's no way this isn't taking a toll on you; there can't be. All I can promise you is that you won't face any of this alone, Baby. I'll be here, and I'll be safe and we'll come back from one wild night or another for many, many years to come and we'll tumble into bed together. Always together, Tara, because we're a package deal."
"Willow, Sweetie, you can't guarantee that. Look at what we do-"
"I have, Tara. You're right, I've been doing this longer than you have. But it didn't make sense until you came to me. Before, I was Buffy's sidekick, her aide-de-camp. When I found you, though, I started to see the real picture, at least where I fit in."
"And where is that?" Tara asked quietly.
"With you. I wasn't one of the supporting cast of Buffy's movie anymore; I was sharing the title role with you. And somehow I know that our film has a long, long playing time."
"We can't know that, Will. We tell ourselves that to keep from going crazy with the danger of it all, but God-look at what we've already faced."
"And survived," Willow added, her voice heavy with emphasis.
"Exactly. Doesn't that make you wonder just how much luck any two people can have?"
"No it doesn't," Willow replied, and her voice held nothing but conviction. "Just the opposite. The more we survive, the more I know we're supposed to."
Tara gazed at her, one eyebrow arched slightly. "You realize, of course, that a psychologist would consider that distinctly irrational thinking; a belief you've developed to keep you from living in a constant state of terror."
"Psychologists...what do they know?" Willow sniffed disdainfully. "Besides, if it is an irrational belief, seems to me it's a pretty good one."
"Can't argue with that," Tara admitted.
"Tara, do you want to stop? Do you want out of all of this? Because if you do, I'll leave with you. I mean it-we can tell Buffy and Xander and Giles that we're taking our toys and going home."
Tara sighed. "Oh God, Will-it's tempting. But we can't leave. I mean, we can," she added, as Willow started to break in. "But I can't imagine it. I'm in it, in this, for the long haul-so long as you're in it, too." She traced a shaking finger over Willow's lips. "But I'm serious, Willow-if anything happened to you, I don't think I could survive it."
"Tara, Baby-I'm right here; right beside you. And I'm alive and safe and so in love with you that I think I'll break wide open with it sometimes." She leaned over, kissing Tara softly, then pulled back to gaze into her eyes. "Touch me...Feel how warm I am; how alive I am."
Taking Tara's hand in her own, she curved the warm fingers over her face and down her neck, where she pressed two fingers against her pulse.
"See? My heart's beating, strong and steady." She paused, and then her voice dropped, growing husky. "Touch me-remind yourself that I'm here, because God knows I know you are. I can feel your energy humming off of you, and it makes me dizzy."
Tara recognized the tone in Willow's voice, and the darkening of her eyes. As Willow dragged her fingers away from her throat and down to the swell of her breast, she could feel herself answering the unspoken beckoning. Her own pulse quickened, and she could feel the warmth and the fullness that was settling into her lips, and her breasts, and her belly. She leaned in, so close to Willow's lips that she was drinking her shallow breath, not quite letting herself kiss them.
"You're here?" she whispered, never taking her eyes from Willow's lips.
"Yes."
"And you can feel the life in me?"
"Yes-like you can feel it in me."
"And you want me?"
The answer was a groan, but she didn't need one, not really. She finally let herself take Willow's mouth under her own. As she did, she felt an echoing thrum of need threading through her. Clothes seemed more than an impediment; they were symbols of the restraints and formalities and daily distractions from what was real and true and enduring within her life: Willow, and the bond that held them always together.
Willow slowly unbuttoned her shirt, pushing it down over her shoulders, and Tara shifted slightly, shrugging her way out of the confinement. For so long, she had been self-conscious of her figure, fearing that it was too full, too round. Gradually, though, Willow had helped tear down that barrier...not through her words, but through the desire that Tara, even through her fear, could see shimmering in the green eyes, the eyes that always turned a shade darker when Willow was aroused. Finally, she had come to trust in that desire, until she now let herself lay naked and vulnerable before her beloved's eyes.
Willow's hands slowly encircled her, pulling her closer; after a moment, Tara could feel the hook of her bra being easily unfastened. Willow kissed her shoulder before sliding the straps down over Tara's shoulders, her thumbs barely grazing over Tara's breasts. Willow held her gaze for several seconds, finally whispering, "You are so beautiful. It almost hurts sometimes, how beautiful you are to me."
Tara's fingers were buried in Willow's hair, slowly but steadily pulling the half-parted mouth toward her breast.
Feel this...Feel every moment of this.
She knew Willow would kiss her breast lightly first, before taking her nipple into her mouth; it was almost a signature.
See it; watch it as if it were the first time. Never, ever take this for granted.
Willow's profile in the dying light was a fine tracing of lines and curves. Her eyes were almost shut...almost. Her mouth was slightly parted; her tongue slid out quickly to wet her lips before they descended.
There was a time when you hardly dared to dream of this sight; when you were certain it would never be anything but a dream. Now it's real and it's yours to savor and you are blessed to be right here, in this moment.
"Tara, I love you..." And then the sweet, knowing lips had closed over one swollen nipple and Tara heard her own choked response-
feel every moment of this
-and then she pressed her lips to Willow's soft hair, breathing in the essence of her beloved, who would not leave her.
*****
"So we're going to an honest-to-God Scooby meeting? Words fail me, and I'm an English teacher." Beverly was gingerly applying another ice-pack to the purplish bruise that presently occupied approximately 60% of the left side of her face.
"And I don't have a thing to wear," added Tanya. "Left my chiffon in Dallas."
Beverly, despite the strenuous objections of three very forceful women, had insisted on being up and about the next day.
"Can't sleep my life away," she said matter-of-factly. "Especially when there's ever so much going on in the world today." So Tanya had loaded Bev, her ice packs, and several bottles of pain killers into the rental car and driven to campus.
Shortly after their arrival, Giles had phoned to update them about the pint-sized apostle they had captured while in Glory's penthouse.
"The little wretch keeps insisting 'the great Glorificus' is on her way to save him and if we know what's good for us, we'll release him immediately."
"And since when have we known what's good for us, much less done it?" Willow mused.
"Yes, well, everyone was quite shaken after yesterday's adventure, so we made an early evening of it. We plan to resume questioning today."
"Where did he sleep?" Willow asked, thinking Giles had perhaps kept the creature tied to a chair all night.
"Oh, I bundled him up nice and snug and plopped him in the tub," Giles replied.
"Isn't that where Spike slept last year?" she queried.
"Yes, I'm thinking of opening up a little bed and breakfast in my bathroom. Anya seems to like the tile."
"Well, I'd like to be in on the interrogation, and I suspect Tara would as well. She was pretty upset by what happened to Beverly."
"I should imagine," Giles murmured. "Yes, by all means come over. I've already spoken to the others, including Xander and Anya, and they'll be here shortly after five. Until then, I'm gagging Mister 'Glory will avenge my mistreatment' so that I can continue my research in relative quiet."
As soon as Willow hung up the phone and summarized the conversation, Beverly invited herself to the gathering. Tanya's reaction to this, while lacking subtlety, was certainly compelling.
"Like hell you will," she exploded. "Honey, less than twenty-four hours ago, you were being held hostage by a Hell God. Couldn't we just take one day and go to the zoo; maybe check out the boutiques?"
"As if you need more shoes," Beverly retorted. "Tanya, c'mon-this is big stuff. I wanna hear what the little shit has to say." Tanya had finally relented, but only after Beverly had agreed to take a brief nap before they left. The four had fallen into an easy conversation, tacitly agreeing to a respite from the horrors at hand. After about half an hour, Beverly had curled up on Tara's bed and fallen promptly asleep.
"So bring me up to speed on this cast of characters," Tanya sighed, resting her hand protectively on Beverly's leg. "I don't want to be remiss in my historical context."
"Um, OK," Willow began uncertainly. "Well, Buffy's the Slayer; Dawn's her sister; Giles is Buffy's Watcher. Giles hasn't dated anybody seriously since Miss Calendar was killed by Buffy's boyfriend Angel, who's usually a good vampire but turned bad after deflowering Buffy. Giles did have sex with Buffy's mom on the top of a police cruiser, but that was because they'd eaten this band candy that turned all the adults into adolescents. Even though that was supernatural, we're pretty sure he loved Mrs. Summers for real; he hasn't totally been himself since she died. Let's see...Anya is an ex-vengeance demon who lost her powers after inadvertently summoning my doppelganger from an alternate universe, who was actually a vampire-all evil and skanky."
"And kinda gay," Tara added.
"And kinda gay-right. Anyway, she and Xander have been together for a couple of years. I've known Xander since we started kindergarten together."
"She had a raging crush on him for about ten years," Tara added, with a not-so-slight roll of her eyes.
"Well, yeah," Willow admitted reluctantly. "But once we actually did something about it, it sorta killed the magic of the fantasy; and besides, I really did love Oz and I wanted to be with him. So Oz forgave me, although Cordelia--she was this five-alarm diva who somehow ended up in our little cadre--never forgave Xander. Of course, Oz pretty much forfeited all claims to righteous indignation when I caught him with Veruca, who was another werewolf, not to mention a total ho-puppy. Anyway, getting back to Xander...he doesn't have any particular powers, but he tends to forget that. He's loyal, though, and he's brave, especially considering he's about the most limited of all of us in pretty much every way." With that pronouncement, Willow finally came up for air.
Tanya was looking at her, Willow suspected, much as she might a particularly interesting but as yet unclassified life form.
"You realize," she finally smiled, "that all of you will need major psychiatric intervention by the time you're thirty."
"Oh, of course," Willow nodded. Turning to Tara, she said, "Remind me to make sure that my first job has good mental health benefits. Yours too," she added, "although I think I'm wound up a little tighter than you."
Beverly awoke at four-thirty, splashed some water on her face, and led the contingent out to the car.
"Scooby-Dooby-Do, where are you? We got some work to do now," she crooned.
"Baby, I love you," Tanya said warmly, walking out into the late afternoon sun. "But you need to end that travesty right now before mothers start pulling children back into the safety of their houses."
*****
Part 30
As they neared Giles' door, Beverly nudged Willow. "Twenty bucks says Anya can't shock my girl speechless."
"You're on," Willow whispered.
Buffy and Dawn were already there; barely five minutes later, Xander and Anya ambled through the door, not bothering to knock.
"Oh my God, Xander, it's a Black person," Anya cried, clearly delighted with this new element. Beside her, Xander turned not black but rather a vibrant shade of crimson.
"Yes, but I'm not out to my family, so I'd appreciate you keeping quiet about it," came the easy reply. "I'm Tanya, Beverly's partner." Across the room, Willow discreetly slid a bill into Beverly's outstretched hand.
"Humor-a staple of human social interaction," Anya nodded. "Xander keeps trying to teach me about it, but he's not nearly as funny as he thinks he is."
Tanya grinned. "Well, don't be too hard on him. I think it was Mark Twain-or maybe e. e. cummings-who said that analyzing humor was like dissecting a frog: you can do it, but the frog tends to die in the process."
Watching all of this, Willow suspected that Tanya had taken an immense liking to the ex-demon. She was also friendly with Xander, and the exchanges between Tanya, Dawn, and Buffy were far less strained than they had been the day before.
Nothin' like surviving mortal danger to bring people closer, Willow mused.
Dawn edged slowly up to Beverly, who winked at her and draped an arm over her shoulders.
"How are you?" Dawn asked, her voice small.
"I look worse than I feel," Beverly replied easily, but Willow was certain this wasn't true. "I figure that as long as I don't run into any more alleys on ill-advised good Samaritan urges, I'll be fine."
"Wait a minute," Buffy broke in. "You're saying you meant to be there? You ran in of your own free will? God, if you were watching that in a movie, you'd be screaming at the hero, 'Don't go in there!'"
"Yeah," Beverly said sheepishly. "I've been getting a lot of that."
"I think it took courage," Dawn said, and Willow wondered if perhaps the Key had a thing for both of the Maclay women.
"Oh God, don't encourage her," Tanya protested, but she was grinning at Dawn as she said this.
"So can we see the little sack-cloth suck-up?" Beverly finally asked. Her voice was casual...studiously so, Willow thought.
"Yes, of course," Giles replied. He stepped out of the room, returning moments later with a very short man-to use the term loosely-garbed in a long, tattered robe. His nose was hooked to the point of deformity; one could easily lose sight of that, however, in view of his truly horrific skin condition. His hands were tied behind him, and a gag rendered his stream of invectives unintelligible. Giles plunked him unceremoniously into a desk chair, then loosened the gag.
"-and so I warn you: release me or suffer devastation beyond your worst nightmares."
"Listen, Little Lord Clearasil," Buffy interjected, her tone unimpressed, "I've battled a vampire Master, a Mayor who turned into a giant lizard, and truly agonizing menstrual cramps. You're gonna have to do better than that." She walked slowly over to the chair and towered over him. "Now let's start with the basics: what's your name?"
The little minion squared his jaw and intoned, "I come from a long and venerable line of servants to the great Glorificus. My father served her, as did his father before him. My lineage boasts no peer."
"Yeah, yeah," Xander nodded impatiently. "And at socials in Hell, your name tag says, 'Hello, my name is...'?"
"Binky."
Profound silence fell over the group as they considered this. After a moment, Buffy asked incredulously, "Your name is Binky? What did dear old Dad answer to-'Poppy'?"
Their captive looked up at her defiantly. "And you're going to avert an apocalypse with a name like 'Buffy'? Glass houses, Slayer; glass houses."
"Wonderful," Giles sighed. "We have with us tonight Buffy, Binky, Anya, and Tanya. Filming for 'The Tele-Tubbies Battle a Hell-God' will commence post-haste."
"You cannot make me speak, misguided as you are. Your reputation precedes you, Slayer-you do not inflict pain on those who cannot fight back." The smirk on his face made Willow want to skip negotiation and go straight to whup-ass.
"And do you know my reputation, little man?" Tanya's voice was far too calm to bode well.
"You were with the others yesterday. We haven't been properly introduced." Still the infuriating sneer.
"Oh-well, my name would be Tanya, and I would be someone who hasn't yet settled on a moral code. I'm considering all my options, of course, but presently I'm leaning toward vigilantism. I tend to favor sharp objects, and I will slice you once for every time you stall." The smile never left her face.
"Tanya, Sweetie-we still haven't settled that assault charge back in Dallas," Beverly cautioned. "Of course, what with that guy not having a tongue or fingers anymore, testimony might be a problem."
"You wouldn't dare." The smirk was gone, replacing by faltering bravado. "Slayer, this isn't how you do things. You wouldn't let her."
"You're right," Buffy sighed. "I gotta intervene....Tanya, you shouldn't."
"But I want to."
"OK." Turning back to the trembling creature before her, Buffy shrugged. "Can't say I didn't try."
"What's wrong with you people? What about taking the higher ground?"
"We realized we're all afraid of heights," Xander replied, as the others nodded. Tanya took another step toward the shirking figure in the chair.
"Stop! I'll-I'll tell you whatever you want. Just don't let her near me." The voice held none of its earlier defiance.
As Tanya stepped back and slid her arm over Bev's shoulders, Willow heard the Protector murmur, "Nice Foxy Brown impersonation, Babe. Very large with the butch."
"So...Binky," Giles began. "Why don't you tell us a little bit about Glory."
"Starting with the ritual." Dawn's voice was flat.
Binky looked side-long at her. "The Slayer's sister...Aren't you a little young to be witnessing such evil goings-on?"
"Aren't you a little tied up and scabby to be taunting other people?" came the quick retort.
Well, go Dawnie!
"I wanna know about the ritual, and how the Key figures into things," Dawn said. "She only has this one chance, right? One chance to use the Key."
"That is correct," Binky replied sullenly.
"And if she doesn't find the Key before the clock strikes midnight, Cinderella gets kicked out of the ball, never to return," Dawn continued. "Is that correct too?"
"Yes," the minion said through gritted teeth, or whatever filled his mouth. "But this is all heresy, and you will pay for your sacrilege." At Tanya's first step toward him, he shrank back in his bonds.
"See how intimidating I am?" she murmured to her partner.
"Yes, dear, you're frightening the wretched little inter-dimensional toady just right to bits," Beverly replied dutifully.
"OK, so if the window of opportunity passes, what exactly happens to Glory?" Giles asked.
"In that case, the great Glorificus would lose all power. She might still have consciousness, but she could not take form, and she would have no hope of regaining her rightful throne." Willow could see that Binky was practically choking on the words.
"And what happens to the Key and the Protectors if Glory's stopped?" Dawn's voice held no trace of fear, but Willow knew that they had all asked themselves that very question at one time or another.
Binky only stared at the ground. Tanya took another step toward him, and this time Willow knew that there was no bluff involved.
"Answer that question right now, little man," she said, her voice practically a hiss.
Finally, Glory's sycophant met her gaze. "In the astoundingly unlikely event that Glory does not find the Key, and the moment of her triumph passes...the Key and any surviving Protectors will go on with whatever pitiful lives they have created."
Beverly, clearly not one for restraint, whooped her joy, enduring the resulting pain with a grin. Tanya just sank back against her, resting her head lightly against Bev's shoulder.
Willow looked at Tara, trying to imagine themselves in such a scenario: knowing that Tara could very likely be killed by the force she was created to stop, yet uncertain that she would live on if the threat were extinguished. The very thought was painful.
Dawn, of course, didn't have the luxury of showing her relief. Instead, she simply crossed her arms and nodded. Buffy, currently standing behind the minion's chair, allowed herself a huge grin as she looked at Dawn and quickly wiped her eyes.
"OK, Binky, let's move on to Round Two," Willow said, feeling an uncharacteristic swagger in her soul at the recent news. "What was Glory doing in Ben's apartment?"
"More to the point, what was she doing in his body?" Beverly amended. A chorus of voices greeted this question, all of which were delivered in the key of disbelief.
"Wait a minute," Tara said, holding up both hands in an attempt to quiet the group. "Aunt Bev, we called Ben when we remembered your reaction to him. He stalled Buffy about getting together, at least at his place, so Willow hacked into the hospital files and got his address. When we went there, we heard yelling and crashing inside so we basically busted down the door. We saw you and a bunch of these guys; no sign of Glory or Ben."
"That's because Glory morphed into Ben, who then basically wrung his hands a lot and finally apologized before leaving the scene." Bev explained this patiently, as if unsure of her audience's mental capacity.
"You actually saw him take over her body?" Xander's voice held more than a touch of doubt.
"I didn't really see Glory that much because she hovered at the back of the room the whole time she was there. Remember, I have this weird repulsion thing where she's concerned. Anyway, she'd been slapping me around in various ways for a little bit, but I never lost consciousness. All of a sudden, I hear a phone ring and then her voice gets all wonky-"
"Could you perhaps clarify your adjectives?" Giles asked tactfully.
"Wonky-as in, possessed of a distinct element of the unusual or the bizarre," she replied, casting a bemused glance at the Watcher.
"Ah, yes...wonky."
"Anyway, after a few seconds I don't hear her voice anymore; I just hear this scuffle at the back of the room and the next thing I know, I hear Ben's voice. It took me a minute to place it, but it was him. He starts walking toward me and at first I thought he'd come in through some other door and I hadn't heard him but then I get a look at him and I see he's wearing Glory's dress."
"Ben was wearing Glory's clothes? OK, so maybe he's a transvestite, but what does that have to do with Glory?" Buffy's brow was furrowed in confusion.
"I didn't say he was wearing a dress," Beverly explained, frowning. "I said he was wearing her dress; as in, the one she had been wearing not five minutes before. If I remember correctly, it was a lovely little Vera Wang number."
"So Glory steps out of the room and Ben takes that opportunity to borrow her clothes? How fortunate for him that they fit so well," Giles nodded slowly.
Beverly finally gave vent to her exasperation. "No, my beloved vegetables...He didn't borrow her clothes; he didn't sneak in while she was gone; he is Glory, or at least they share a body. I know it's an elusive concept, but I thought you could all stretch that far."
Behind her, Binky was chuckling.
"What's with the inappropriate laughter, Spanky?" Xander demanded.
"Binky."
"Whatever. What's so funny?"
"You. You can't see the truth because the great Glorificus has ensured that you can't. Just one of the many glimpses of her most blinding omnipotence."
"Except that Our Lady of Skank's little illusion doesn't work on me," Beverly interjected. "Why?"
The minion turned sullen. "I do not know. You have some heretical ability to withstand at least some measure of Glory's power."
"Fine; OK," Beverly sighed. Turning to Giles, she asked, "Hey Watcher Man-you keep any note cards around here?" As he nodded toward the desk, she said, "This should just take a minute." The group watched as she pulled out several index cards and scribbled hastily across them. Then she stood, pulled an equal number of paperclips from a holder on the desk, and walked up to each of them, fastening a card to their shirt sleeves. "Honestly," she muttered, "do I have to do everything around here?"
Willow, who had watched all of this unfold with an unfamiliar-and quite terrifying-sense that she was just a bit slow on the uptake, looked down at the card affixed to her sleeve: GLORY IS BEN AND CONVERSELY. BELIEVE NOW, GRASP LATER.
Huh. Never saw that one coming.
"OK," she said aloud. "So Ben and Glory share the same body. Does that mean Ben's a god as well?" She desperately hoped not.
"Well, to hear that tramp Janza talk, you'd think so," Binky sniffed. "Jinx, too, come to think of it...But no, he's not a god. Ben is the mortal that Glory was damned to be confined to. She must share his physical being."
"So then," Giles murmured, peering at his index card like a child who had just been placed in one of the slower reading groups, "Glory is basically a captive to Ben."
"Glory is captive to no one," the outraged minion spluttered, "and certainly not a mortal. Ben should be grateful for his wondrous fortune...to be so close to Glorificus; to share so intimately her body and soul."
Willow arched one eyebrow. "Seems like somebody's got a crush on a Hell God," she commented. Beside her, Tara stirred uncomfortably.
"If he starts getting...excited, will you poke my eyes out? You know I can't handle that stuff."
"Don't worry, Baby-he's got a robe on; I don't think we'd know."
"So who's the majority stock-holder?" Anya asked. "Who makes the decisions about the long distance company?"
Binky's uncomfortable silence gave them their answer.
"And do each of them know about the other?" Tara asked.
"Yes, and far from being proud of his role, Ben wishes to separate himself from Glory; 'free' himself, to use his words, and live out his life as one mortal helping others."
"Through his medical career," Buffy mused.
"What happens if Ben dies?"
Silence fell over the group. No one seemed able to look at Giles, who had put forth the query in an even, controlled voice.
"The man asked you a question," Tanya said, glaring at the creature in the chair who was struggling to avoid meeting her gaze. "If Ben dies, does Glory die, too?"
The quavering little minion looked aghast. "You...you cannot mean to say that you would kill a mortal, an innocent."
Giles answered steadily, "We like to know all potential courses of action. Killing Ben would not be our first choice, but weighed against the lives of untold billions of other beings, in other dimensions...We would be remiss not to think of it."
"I gotta say, Binky, I'm not crazy about the idea, but Giles is right." Beverly's voice was matter-of-fact. "Besides, that whole 'innocent' thing is a little suspect: Ben had a chance to help me, to talk to us about all of this, and he chose Door Number Two, which for purposes of edification I'm labeling 'Chicken-Shit.'"
"Wait-Ben's involved with Glory?" Xander's voice was incredulous.
Without a glance in his direction, Giles grabbed Xander's arm and hoisted it in front of his eyes. "So while we'd prefer to spare Ben, we are prepared to sacrifice him to save everyone else from Glory's destruction," the Watcher concluded evenly.
"And screw his medical career," Tanya interjected suddenly. "If the man really wanted to be a man, he'd sacrifice himself." As the others turned to look at her in surprise, she continued insistently, "I mean it. If you knew that inside of you there was someone else who had the power and the distinct inclination to bring suffering and death to every living creature, and that the only sure way to stop her was to end your own life, wouldn't you do it? You've all risked your lives goddess only knows how many times; I don't believe for a minute that you'd risk everyone else's."
An oppressive silence, thick and heavy, fell over the room.
Would I? Would I have the courage to end my own life if I knew it was the only sure way to avoid a literal hell on earth for everyone else? Her heart squeezed with pain.
Could I willingly leave Tara?
She looked at her beloved, who was gazing back at her. Willow suspected she was pondering the same question.
You would if you knew it was the best way to save her, came the sudden, sure answer.
After a long silence, Binky apparently decided that he was feeling brave again. "You sit here, making your doomed plans. But when Glory comes for me, you will know the full scope of her wrath."
Giles gazed at him, a faint half-smile creasing his face. "An interesting point, that. Let's review the night's events, shall we? You put up a bit of token resistance, only to crack like the frailest of eggs at the mere suggestion of pain. You then proceed to divulge all sorts of fascinating information regarding Glory, her connection to Ben, her very existence...information which we will most assuredly use in planning our attack. All of which begs the question, then: Do you really want Glory to find you?"
It seemed to Willow that Binky had grown distinctly less homesick as he listened. Giles reached for the phone. "Let's just call her up right now and ask her to come and get you, shall we?"
Binky, hardly tan under the most generous of lighting, paled visibly. "Well, of course, Glory could never doubt the sincerity, the unwavering strength of my loyalty. It might, though, be best if I were to submit to captivity for just a bit longer...to gather useful intelligence that I could present to the great god."
"Wait a minute," Tara interrupted, looking askance at the creature before her. "Now you're saying you want to hang out with us? Limited mortals such as ourselves?"
"Well," Binky fumbled, his voice quivering, "I have heard Glory speak highly of your culture's Buffalo wings."
"We'll be sure to order some without delay," Giles replied dryly.
"Let's reinstate the gag order, drag this guy back to the bathroom, and map out some strategy," Xander suggested.
"I agree," Buffy nodded. As Giles moved toward him, Binky piped up, "Might I request a new gag? The old one is rather...distasteful."
"Oh, but that would diminish the suffering you're enduring for the great Glorificus," Giles said cheerfully. "Can't compromise the martyrdom."
As the minion was taken from the chair and hauled back to the bathroom, his garbled protests echoing down the hall, Willow looked back at Tara. This time, though, her partner was looking at someone else. Following her worried gaze, Willow saw it fall on Dawn, who no longer seemed even slightly relieved. If anything, she appeared more troubled.
What's going on in that head?
*****