Disclaimer/Summery: See Part 1
THE PATH OF THE GODDESS
They had to complete the loop.
They had to go back in time, to 1998, and win the battle.
As Willow thought about it now, it seemed so simple...it had been right there in front of her all along. If the world was gone in 2009 because the battle in 1998 had been lost, then obviously the solution was to just go back to 1998 and win it. She had Thor with her. With Thor, they could win.
And the more Willow thought about that battle now, the more she seemed able to remember...
She remembered sitting there praying in the fort's little chapel when she was seventeen... still just a girl. When the angel, Rachel, arrived, Willow remembered talking to her for a long time...she tried to remember the conversation, but she couldn't now. And then Rachel had sent her back in time, to before the Key had been used, so she could stop the world from ending in the first place, and undo all the damage...
And Willow remembered there had been another woman at the fort...a woman with black hair, crying...
Willow thought the woman with black hair might have been her.
If she was, then not only was going back to 1998 now to try to win the battle the right strategy...but it was meant to happen. It was the way the battle had been won all along.
She remembered what Rachel said to her, when she told her she would have to leave Faith, just a few days before, from her perspective, though it happened twelve years ago...
You are on a path, and you must travel the last part of the road alone, Rachel had said. But you're almost at your destination, Willow, and you already have your answers...you just need to start asking the right questions.
What questions?
You won the battle at the fort before. How?
But I don't...I don't know how. I was inside, and I didn't see the fight. No one knows how we won.
The people you loved aren't with you now, but they are still your greatest resource...your greatest weapon. Let their wisdom guide you...
Strange, how only a couple hundred of you guys held out against all those vamps and demons, Faith had said. Maybe the army guys had some weapons? But still. It's strange. But you were inside, right? You didn't see the fight. Maybe your friends had some help you didn't know about.
You did come into Faith's life in her past--and Rebecca's life, and Tara's life, and all of those events were incorporated into the timeline, Rachel had said, as they sat on the bench together in Boston's Copley Square, and Willow knew she would have to leave Faith. The very first time you met Faith, in that alley in 1998, all of this had already happened. Faith had spent part of the previous year with you--the version of you from 2009--but she didn't remember it, because you had erased her memories. Tara came to Sunnydale because she met you when she was a girl, and you told her to come. Rebecca sought Faith out, because you told her to, in 1972.
But...I was fixing stuff, Willow had replied, desperate to find some way to hold on to Faith...but knowing that she couldn't. I only told Becca and Tara to do that stuff because they already did it before.
And they already did it before, because you told them to, Rachel said. Time is a loop.
Willow knew now that they did have some help she hadn't known about, at the battle in 1998: they had her.
Warren hadn't changed anything at all, Willow realized. Because time couldn't be changed. When you traveled back in time, everything you did became part of the normal timeline. You might think you were making changes, but everything you were doing had already happened...Warren hadn't destroyed her friends; by going back in time and trying to destroy them, all he had succeeded in doing was ensuring their lives had gone the way they were supposed to. If it weren't for Warren, Willow wouldn't have traveled back in time and found Tara, and set her on her path...she wouldn't have made certain Rebecca picked Faith when the Watchers gave her a choice of potential Slayers...
Nothing could happen out of Her hand. Everything that ever happened, was meant to be.
Life was like a story, Willow thought...like a play. The Goddess was the playwright; human beings were the actors.
Only the Goddess could change the play.
Willow smiled, when that particular thought occurred to her. It was nice, believing in the Goddess again...it was nice, not to feel so alone.
When Willow addressed Odin's war council, and told all the assembled warriors her plan, that they would need to send a group back in time eleven years, to 1998, Odin stood up and dismissed them. It was as if he knew all along exactly what she was going to propose, Willow thought. But then he probably did know. Odin was clever. He wasn't a liar like Loki, his son, but he never told the whole truth either.
So Willow sat now at Thor's right hand, in the Hall of Warriors, at a massive table with eight-hundred chairs, in a cavernous marble room with towering walls adorned with hundred-foot long tapestries, and its floor paved in gold, and she felt small. She hadn't felt so self-conscious when all the warriors were present, laughing and shouting and jostling each other, drinking and singing and swearing oaths, and just generally being Asgardians. But now, only Thor, Loki, and Odin remained with her at that seemingly endless table, in that vast, echoing, empty hall, and Willow felt tiny as a bug.
She drank some mead. Thor refilled her cup.
"You knew, didn't you?" Willow said, and looked over at Odin. He wasn't a harmless-looking little old man, the way he had been in Boston. Now he was a giant of a man, nearly as tall as Thor, and he sat at the head of the table encased in his magical, impenetrable, jewel-encrusted, silver and steel battle armor like a man wearing a miniature battleship strapped to his body, savoring his roast mutton and his mead like he didn't have a care in the world. "You knew exactly what we were gonna end up doing... you saw it, somehow, like you always do."
"Of course he did," Loki said, and chuckled, and drained his mug, and poured himself another. "It is said that Loki is the most ruthlessly intelligent, the most subtly clever, the greatest, most devious manipulator of men who has ever lived or shall ever live. But nay, nay--I am at best a distant second, I fear. In matters of cunning, I am still but a pale shadow of my father...I have much to learn from him yet."
"Have a care, Loki," Thor said, and looked Loki in the eyes. "Choose well your words, lest you dare insult our father at table. I would take it ill, brother. And then you would regret it."
Loki covered his mouth and made a show of yawning. "And then there are those who lack intelligence, or cunning, or subtlety of any sort," he said. "I am not insulting our father, indeed, I am paying him the highest compliment I know. But, how boring thou hast become, brother. Why, you're dull as a block of wood. Or better yet, a rusted blade--aye, dulled from too little use, methinks. It has been entirely too long since we two did battle, Thor--too long since Loki put you properly through your paces. When you piss away your time gallivanting about smiting wretches who are even duller than you, frost giants and trolls and the like, why, it's no wonder you've grown so thunderously tedious."
Thor threw his head back and roared with laughter; the room shook like an earthquake had hit it. Willow had to grab her plate and her mug to keep them from tumbling to the floor.
It was at moments like these that Willow really understood how different Thor was...it was at moments like these that Willow knew, really knew, that he was a god.
"Mjolnir is no rusted blade, brother, nor is its power dulled in the slightest," Thor said, when his laughter subsided. "As you shall learn, if you desire to put me through my paces again. Nay, come, sly fox: lay your plans, and run your race! The hound shall be close upon the scent, and thou shalt find the fire in his eyes has not been dimmed."
"I will never understand you two," Willow said, and shook her head at them.
"They are brothers," Odin said, and sighed, and focused on his mutton. "It has been ever thus."
"And I forgot to mention, brother, all those trips to Midgard to help Willow and her ridiculous band of preening, chattering hens out of whatever trivial predicament they found themselves tangled up in that week," Loki added. "Surely you haven't had anything resembling a real challenge in years. It's absolutely appalling."
Willow's smile disappeared. Her face became red, darkening like a sky full of thunderclouds. Her green eyes, always clear and deep like two emerald pools, always sharp and full of light, became hard now as she looked at Loki; they became dull, and dark, and cold. As she looked at him, staring straight into his eyes, Willow's face twisted, and became ugly.
"Those preening, chattering hens were people I loved and now they're all dead," Willow said. "So how about you shut the fuck up."
Thor took Willow's hand.
"My son speaks hastily, when he's had too much mead," Odin finally said. "He meant nothing of it."
"Your son's an evil manipulative asshole who's gonna destroy the whole universe someday and all you do is sit around making excuses for him," Willow said. "His fucking little digs always mean something. Right now I'm thinking he's just getting off on hurting me. My friends are dead so he figures, hey, here's some fun. Stick another pin in the Willow doll. Just because I've got this plan for us to go back that's no guarantee this will work. For all I know I'll never see my friends again."
"Willow," Loki said. "I did not mean--"
"Fucking spare me," Willow said. "I'm done listening to your bullshit. I'm done being a joke. I'm done with you."
It was Loki's turn to blush now. It was amazing, Willow thought, as she noticed it out of the corner of her eye. She had never seen him blush before. In her experience, nothing ever seemed to hurt Loki: he skipped blithely through life, secure in his immortality and his immense power, causing mayhem and inciting havoc wherever he went, treating everything and everyone as a joke, as if the universe had been created for his amusement. He never got close to anything, never loved anything. He just used things, until they became boring, and then he discarded them. But now, it was almost as if her words had actually hurt him.
But Loki was the God of Lies. Willow ignored him, and went back to sipping her mead.
And then Odin looked at her, for the first time.
Willow felt like the ground was opening up beneath her feet. She steadied herself.
"Loki does lie," Odin said. "It is his nature. Thor is constant, unchanging, loyal and true: a bulwark of courage and virtue behind which humanity may gather and find strength. But if Thor is a great bulwark, Loki is shifting sand. Where Thor is constant, Loki changes. While Thor is loyal and always speaks true, Loki is devious, even traitorous, and a mischief-maker. But though it might be easy to see Thor as simply good and Loki as simply evil, it is not so, they cannot be so easily categorized. Rather call them two parts of a whole. Like Midgard itself, together they are constant and changing, loyal and traitorous, true and false. To the mortals, sometimes Midgard is a bulwark, and sometimes it is mere shifting sand. To the mortals, sometimes life seems an ally, sometimes an enemy. So it is with my sons, the offspring of the mortals' hopes, and of their fears. We gods are none of us as we would choose to be, Willow. We are what humanity has made us. We are merely actors in a play. But we talk overlong. We must decide now who is to travel back to give battle to that horde of vermin."
"That's easy," Willow said. "Me and Thor. The group's gotta be small, we can't like, send a whole army back."
"Why not?" Thor said. "With the legions of Asgard behind us, surely we would be victorious."
"Time travel hurts the world," Willow said. "It's unnatural, the universe wasn't meant to work that way. Whenever anyone moves through time, it's like punching holes. A few people won't cause any permanent damage, but sending an army back would. Besides, there's no way I could cast that kind of spell, I don't think even Loki could."
"I might, perhaps," Loki said. "But it would sorely tax my strength. In any event you're right. Transporting thousands back eleven years would make a pincushion of the world; great swaths of it would be destroyed. We cannot transport an army, just a handful."
"Freyja will demand to join us," Thor said. He smiled. "I would certainly not want to be the one who has to tell her she must stay behind."
"She can come, we can use all the help we can get," Willow said. "We'll take your chariot, that way it saves me the wear and tear of casting the portal myself, I'm gonna want to save my strength for the fight. Where is she anyway? Thought she'd be here."
"She was, but she grew weary of debate," Thor said. "She craves battle, as ever."
"One heapin' helpin' of battle, comin' up," Willow said.
"Not to take us off the track, but now a little mystery has been solved," Loki said. "Eleven years ago, when I looked down and saw the devastation upon Midgard, and would have gone to fight, Odin stayed my hand. Now I know why." He smiled at Odin, and raised his mug to him. "I am your son and I know your mind, father, or as much of it as anyone ever could. But I had always wondered why you stopped me going to Midgard to fight in 1998, until today."
"Hold," Thor said. "How could you have seen the battle, Loki? It happened, and Willow was there, but then she was sent back to a time before the battle, as she says, so she might prevent the catastrophe that had befallen Midgard. And so the battle was never fought, and none but Willow now remember it."
"My cauldron could not be fooled by the twisting paths of time," Loki said. "I have seen both roads Midgard took: the first road, when the sun hid herself from view and Midgard was besieged by demons who ran riot in the dark, and the second road, when Willow was sent back to a time before the devastation, and she stopped it from ever coming about. You do not remember now, brother, because the first road has been erased, but you and I looked down upon Midgard in her time of peril, and would have gone together to help, but Odin would not allow it. Aye, he stayed all our hands, you, me, Freyja, the entire host. He would not allow any in Asgard to lift a finger. We all wondered at that, but then the situation resolved itself, and Willow chose a second road for Midgard, and the first road was abandoned. Though not lost forever. For eyes that can see, such as our father's, that dark road was always there...it was Midgard's shadow self, stalking it like a hungry wolf nipping at its heels...it was the road not taken. But that dark road has overtaken us all again now."
"This is true, father?" Thor said. "You stopped us from going to Midgard, in 1998?"
"Aye," Odin said. "I knew then that the battle would resolve itself, in its own way, and in its own time, and that it would be perilous to interfere. Though that did not stop Loki from journeying to Midgard anyway, during those dark days." Odin glared at Loki now, turning the full force of his black eyes upon him like an arctic wind howling down out of a black sky. "In defiance of my ban."
Loki wilted before those eyes, but he smiled anyway. "I was called upon. Would you have me turn a deaf ear to the pleas of my followers? Besides, when I learned what boon the girl wished of me, I refused her..." Loki looked at Willow then, his smile growing wider. "Grudgingly. Ah, how different your life would have been, Willow, if evil, manipulative Loki had not seen fit to restrain himself that day. You blame me for much, woman, but you have no idea what you owe me. And I didn't even know you yet back then. Aye, I daresay I'm a merciful god. Truly, my munificence is boundless."
"Okay, what are you talking about?" Willow said. "You're completely not munificent by the way."
"Your precious Tara," Loki said, looking back at Willow like a greedy-eyed barracuda following a plump, tasty goldfish. "Your golden girl. She could have been mine."
Tara woke up at the kitchen table with a shudder.
She hadn't meant to fall asleep. She was supposed to stay awake...she needed to stay awake, so she could cast a locator spell every half hour.
Willow had been gone more than two days now.
Tara looked around wildly for a clock. But there wasn't one, in this room. She jumped out of her chair, about to dash out of the room to look for one. Then she realized the important thing was to cast a locator spell again, immediately.
She slumped back down in the chair. She lit her candles with a shaking hand, and prepared her magic powder, and sprinkled the smallest amount possible on Willow's toothbrush. A locator spell required something that belonged to the person you wanted to find, but you could only use an item once. Tara had done one-hundred and three locator spells over the past two days, and she'd had to get creative. Willow's hairbrush yielded a good amount of her hair, and each individual strand was good for a locator spell. Tara had ransacked Willow's bedroom, using every single thing she found in there that she could confirm had belonged to Willow. Tara had started with Willow's clothes--her sweaters and blouses and tee-shirts, her jeans and her skirts, her pajamas and her nightgown, her bras and her panties, her socks and her shoes and her coat, her goofy hats. Unfortunately you couldn't just cut pieces from clothes and use each piece individually; if she could have done that Tara would have had more than enough material. But every piece of clothing could only be used once, no exceptions, and the clothes had run out. Then Tara had found Willow's makeup and her toiletries. Lipstick, eyeshadow, deodorant, nail polish, shampoo, conditioner, soap, toothpaste, she had gone through them all. Tara had used Willow's earrings, her laptop computer, and all of her PJ Harvey CD's. She had used Willow's handbag and every single thing in it, including every one of her credit cards, her drivers license, her keychain, both of her keys, her comb, her pens, her tic-tacs, her book of matches, her rolling paper, and her pot stash. All that was left now was Willow's toothbrush, and some of her crystals. Luckily a locator spell didn't require much of Tara's magic powder at least, just a sprinkle. But Tara was running low on that now, too. She would have liked to do a locator spell every fifteen minutes, but if she had done that she would have run out of materials already. Looking for Willow twice an hour meant Tara could keep doing the spells for days, while at the same time making sure she did them often enough so that Willow had a fighting chance to be found if she managed to slip that talisman of Ikonn off for a little while. But it wouldn't be long before there was nothing left to work with...Tara had enough to do six more locator spells, before there would be nothing left of Willow's to use. And if they didn't find Willow before then...
Tara shook her head and tried to concentrate. It was difficult. After casting this same spell over and over again, twice every hour for two straight days, her mind felt like a stripped screw. The spells took longer now, because it was hard to concentrate and so they were harder to cast. Tara had to close her eyes when she cast a locator spell and sometimes she found herself nearly dozing off.
On top of the refrigerator, the radio Faith had left her went on chattering, as the search parties coordinated with each other. At first, Tara had hung on every word that issued forth from the radio, as if the radio was some mysterious, enigmatic deity that would make occasional cryptic pronouncements to its worshippers. At first, every single time the radio started squawking, Tara's heart would leap into her throat, as she allowed herself to think that maybe this time, they had found her. But military people apparently liked to talk a lot, and the radio just kept on squawking. After awhile Tara started ignoring it. She had no idea how any of them understood anything that came over the radio anyway. It all came out sounding garbled.
Every search team had a numerical designation. Buffy and Riley were team one. Faith and Forrest were team two. Rebecca and Angel were team three. There were one-hundred and eight two-man teams criss-crossing California in an ever-widening circle with Sunnydale at its center, going without sleep as they searched ceaselessly, but none of the other teams mattered to Tara. Whenever Tara heard the words team one or team two or team three, she listened. Whenever she heard the word Willow, she listened. Whenever she heard Faith or Buffy or Rebecca talking, she listened. She would've listened to Angel if he talked, but he didn't know how to use the radio and Rebecca did the talking for the both of them. Every other time the radio squawked its gibberish, Tara ignored it.
She concentrated. Her shoulders slumped, and she held her head in her hands. She was so tired she felt drunk. It wasn't just the lack of sleep. Magic took energy. It took will.
Tara cast the locator spell, for the one-hundred and fourth time.
It didn't work. But it failed in a specific way that meant Willow was still alive, at least... somewhere out there, Willow was alive.
Tara wondered what they were doing to her.
She stopped herself. Thinking about that never helped. All it did was hurt; it felt like a pressure in her chest, when she thought about them doing things to Willow.
Tara sat at the kitchen table, and held her head in her hands, and felt more alone than she had ever felt in her life, and didn't let herself think about them hurting Willow.
She blew out the candles, and went to find a clock.
The mansion was quiet. It was the quiet that always struck Tara now, whenever she moved around the place. With Willow gone, and Faith and Buffy and Rebecca and Angel gone to look for her, the house felt like a museum...or like an empty theater after the play was done. She felt the silence, physically, as she wandered down the chilly, torchlit hallway in her nightgown and socks, past the mosaics, and three-hundred Spartans braced for the Persian advance, and Poseidon sent calamitous tidal waves hunting after any ship foolhardy enough to dare to cross the sea during the time of his wrath, and glorious Athena warred with Apollo in the skies above battle-ravaged Troy: the absence of Faith and Buffy and Rebecca and Angel, and most of all, Willow, gave the silence texture, shape, weight. They had existed, once, in that empty house of stone, they had all filled it up with their voices, with their warmth...and now they were gone. But part of them remained behind...in the silence.
Tara found Cordy in Willow's room with Annabelle, playing Trouble. The plastic bubble in the middle of the board echoed down the hallway every time they popped it and Tara had followed the steady pops, like a faint, slow heartbeat, to the bedroom.
Tara had stopped in the living room first, and checked the grandfather clock. It was just past three-thirty. Three-thirty in the afternoon, not that the distinction had any meaning anymore.
"Four hours!" Tara shouted, as she rushed, half-stumbling, into Willow's bedroom, her hands shaking. They'd been shaking on and off for awhile. Between the residual rush of nervous energy and the utter exhaustion that comes with casting more than a hundred spells in succession, the constant sugar rushes and the subsequent crashes that come with subsisting on coffee and soda and Twinkies for two days in a frantic effort to stave off sleep, and a gnawing, crushing certainty that Willow was being hurt and nothing she could do would help her, Tara felt like one of those collapsing buildings they show on the news, falling to pieces, the debris cascading down to the earth in a thunderous roar like a waterfall, demolished to make way for a new construction project. Tara felt like her body was falling to pieces. She felt like her whole life was falling to pieces: she had built her life around Willow, ever since she was a little girl, and now Willow was gone. Tara felt it in her chest, like a steadily increasing pressure.
Cordy and Annabelle looked up at her. Cordy looked ragged, like she had been stretched too thin. Her eyes seemed sunken and her complexion was too pale. Tara was attracted to girls and she had noticed Cordy: Cordy had an athletic body with very pleasing curves. But now she was all angles. She looked spindly as a coat rack to Tara now. Like a candle burning itself down.
Tara knew she wasn't winning any prizes right now herself. She hadn't slept or brushed her hair or changed out of her nightgown in two days and a steady diet of coffee and soda and Twinkies hadn't helped. But the last time she'd caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror she'd seen something desperate there that went deeper than her tangled hair and her bloodshot eyes and her sallow, puffy skin...Tara felt like a part of her was panicking, screaming without making a sound.
"Keep your voice down," Cordy said.
"Wanna play, Tara?" Annabelle said. Annabelle, at least, looked good. Cordy had kept her clean and well-fed, making sure Annabelle ate regular, healthy meals whether she wanted them or not, and she had spent a lot of time dressing her up and doing her hair and making her look pretty, mostly as a way to occupy Annabelle's mind, while ignoring herself completely. Annabelle was wearing a floral print dress now, and her hair was done in pigtails. But as adorable as she looked, Annabelle's eyes were still red from crying.
"Four hours, Cordy!" Tara shouted again, her whole body trembling now. "That's four hours I didn't cast a single locator spell! You're supposed to keep me awake!"
"Oh...oh sweetie, I'm sorry," Tara said, and rushed to the bed, as Cordy picked Annabelle up and hugged her. "Sweetie, sweetie, I'm sorry I yelled, I'm sorry."
Cordy smiled down at Annabelle, and kissed her forehead.
"What did we say, Annie?" Cordy said. "What did we say about being strong girls for Willow?"
"We said...we said Willow wants us to be strong," Annabelle whispered. "For when she comes back."
"That's right, honey," Cordy said. "When Willow comes back she's not gonna want us all crying, okay? She's gonna want smiles."
Annabelle nodded, and stopped crying, as Cordy wiped her tears away. But she didn't smile.
"It's your turn," Cordy said. "You move your little man while I talk to Auntie Tara, okay?"
"What is your problem?" Cordy whispered, when she got Tara out into the hallway, out of earshot of Annabelle. "You know we can't be acting like this around Annie! Annie's already freaking, you think seeing you freaking out is gonna help with that?"
"Why did you let me fall asleep out there?" Tara hissed. "I went four hours without--"
"Because you're a wreck! Look at you! You're shaking like a frigging meth addict and you're stumbling around like a drunk. You needed some rest, okay? You've been awake more than two days now and you look like you wandered out of Night of the Living Dead. If you would just teach me how to do the fucking spell we could go in shifts, but since you won't--"
"I told you, it doesn't work that way. It isn't just lighting candles and saying a bunch of words. With magic you either have it in you or you don't, and you don't."
"Fine, whatever, don't care. Tara, I'm just gonna say this once. You need to get your shit together. I don't care how you do it. Think happy thoughts, go to your special place in your head, whistle a jaunty tune, go in your bedroom and masturbate. Whatever you have to do, fucking do it, because we can't be yelling in front of Annie, we need to be strong in front of her. And for Christ's sake, get some food in you."
Tara looked down at her shaking hands.
"Yesterday was Thanksgiving," Tara said. "Funny, huh? No turkey and football this year. No Charlie Brown Thanksgiving on TV. Nothing to give thanks for either."
"When we get Willow back we're all gonna have a nice Thanksgiving together," Cordy said. "So is the shaking because of the coffee or the magic?"
"Mostly the magic, a little bit the coffee," Tara said. "Doing magic spells over and over... the leftover energy builds up, you can feel it in your nerves. Caffeine overdose doesn't help. But I need the coffee to stay awake."
"So eat, it'll help."
"Last time I tried I puked it up. I'm good with Twinkies. Is Annie okay?"
"She's smart, which means, no, she's not okay. She knows something's wrong. I tried to tell her Willow and everybody else are just on an errand but she's not buying it. You just did a locator spell? Willow's... she's still...she's still alive, right?"
"For now anyway."
"Okay, I hate the word 'tactical' so the stuff I'm about to say isn't me being tactical. It's just me using my head. They've had her for like two days and eight hours and they haven't killed her. I don't care what kind of ceremony Angel said they need to do, if they wanted her dead they could've killed her by now. So I'm thinking they don't want her dead. What food did you eat that made you throw up?"
"Um...a meatball and mozzarella cheese Hot Pocket."
"You call that food? No wonder why you couldn't eat it. I'm gonna cook you dinner. We'll all go in the kitchen. And in return, you're gonna do a favor for me."
"What?"
"You can cast glamours, right? You can make yourself look like other people."
"Yeah, but that doesn't help us with--"
"I want you to make yourself look like Willow and then hang with Annie. We'll come up with a cover story explaining where Willow's been."
"Cordy...are you sure that's the right thing to do? I know it's really tough on her with Willow being gone, but...it would be a lie."
"So are Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. She's falling apart, Tara. Think about what it's like for her. She's a five year old kid who lost her parents, she's seen people die, she's seen vampires. She loves Willow, she thinks of Willow like her mother and now Willow's gone too. There's just so long I can keep Annie together. She likes being with me but she needs to be with Willow and if we have to give her a fake Willow I'm willing to live with that."
"Yeah," Tara said. "Okay. I can only do locator spells for like three more hours anyway before I run out of stuff to use. I'll need a few hours after that to recharge the batteries before I can cast a glamour but...tonight I'll start being Willow. Um...or maybe you should be Willow? One of us will have to be, but which one?"
"You," Cordy said. "I've been with Annie non-stop since Willow left and we spent a lot of time together before that too. If I'm suddenly gone she'll ask questions."
Tara smiled. "And if I'm gone she'll be like, hey, whatever. Tara, Shmara. Crazy lesbian Wicca chick, who needs her."
"You're all crazy lesbian Wicca chicks. And it's not like that. You know Annie likes you. You just haven't been around, she doesn't know you as well as she knows me and Willow. We've hardly seen you since Willow left, you're always on the other side of the house being Sabrina."
"Samantha. Well, I guess Anna and I are about to have plenty of quality time together. Let's tell her Willow just called and said she's coming back tonight."
"Say ten o'clock? That enough time?"
"Yeah. What's the excuse? Did Willow join Greenpeace and save the whales? Did she go shoe shopping? Was she stalking James Van Der Beek?"
"She's Willow," Cordy said. "So she was at the library. I'll give Annie a nap after dinner so she can be rested up for tonight. Actually I'm giving you a nap too. Once you're done with the locator spells get some sleep. After dinner I'll coach you on how to be Willow."
"You're a Willow expert?" Tara said. "Um...I sorta got the impression...y'know...that you guys...weren't close."
"We're close, we just get on each other's nerves. But we've known each other since kindergarten and I know her better than any of you guys do. Believe me, I can coach you. Being Willow is a mix of cuteness and goofiness and nerdiness and just being way too eager. And occasionally high. With some arrogance thrown in."
"Okay, seen the cuteness. Not so sure about arrogance though."
"Look, don't get me wrong, Willow's always been a sweetheart. Well...to everyone except me. But she's always been the smartest kid in the class too. She's got no confidence in her looks, doesn't know how to dress or do her hair, she dances like a one-legged duck and she doesn't know about guys or how to act at parties or really anything having to do with having a life at all, but, within a very narrowly defined band of computer nerd stuff, she's a total expert. To other nerds Willow's like a rock star, and she knows it. You think Willow's not arrogant? She took off without telling anyone because she assumed she could go out there and handle all the vampires and demons in the entire world by herself. If that's not having a Martha Stewart-size ego, I don't know what is."
Willow laid on the floor in the closet.
She tried to sleep. She couldn't. She hadn't been able to sleep since they had put her in there...she slept in snatches, a few minutes at a time, and then the pain always woke her up.
Her mouth was dry. She had a bad headache and it kept getting worse; her head felt like a gong and someone just kept on hammering. Her nose and mouth were bleeding, one of her teeth had been knocked loose, and she ached: her body felt like one continuous bruise. She couldn't stretch out in the closet because there wasn't any room, so she laid curled up on the sticky floor, stuffed into that tiny lightless space like a discarded folding chair.
She was thirsty. She had been able to tolerate it for awhile. Now, it was a constant torment. It was worse than the pain. It occupied her thoughts, every moment. Her mouth felt like ashes. Her tongue had swollen too, she thought; sometimes she worried she would swallow it, like people did in epileptic fits. She felt dizzy sometimes. She felt tired all the time, but she could never sleep...
Xander had told them to be creative. From inside the closet, Willow had heard him talking to them: he made all his announcements over the supermarket's intercom system, apparently because there were a lot of people milling around out there now. He had said there would be a special prize for the one who found the most creative way to hurt her.
Willow focused on her breathing, and tried to stay calm. If she didn't stay calm, if she let herself panic in there, it would be worse. The key, she knew, was not to think about the closet. Not to think of it as a closet at all...not to let herself see its boundaries, not to let herself acknowledge even for a moment that it was really just a little locked box...
She'd had a panic attack some time before, when her control slipped and she let herself think about the closet. She had screamed herself hoarse, and gasped for breath in between the screams, feeling like she was suffocating in the dark. No one came to help her. She kicked at the door, but the door never opened. The darkness never abated. Eventually, she couldn't scream anymore. Eventually, her breathing had returned to normal on its own, and she had fallen asleep, exhausted. She wasn't sure how long ago that was, now.
The closet smelled like urine, because she had to pee in the bucket. The urine smell was a lot worse now, because they hadn't given her anything to drink and without water her urine had become darker and the smell was stronger. The first time she had peed it was almost clear; now it was a dark golden color, and the smell infested the little space until breathing had become nearly intolerable. Willow had tried breathing through her mouth sometimes to cut the smell, but that just made her mouth even drier. So she went back to breathing through her nose, and tried to get used to the smell. She was just glad the lack of water had made her constipated.
Willow went in shifts: four hours on, four hours off. It was the schedule Xander had made for her. For four hours, Xander would send people in to hurt her; every fifteen minutes he would send someone else. Every fifteen minutes, the closet door would open, and someone else would announce their name, step inside, and hurt her. He gave everyone five minutes with her. Some were quick, while others used all of their allotted five minutes to enjoy her suffering. When she had seen sixteen people, Xander would give her four hours alone, to rest. Willow knew he wasn't doing it to be nice. Sending people in to hurt her meant the closet door was constantly being opened. That mitigated the closet's effect, made Willow feel less isolated. So Xander had come up with the schedule. Four hours pain, four hours rest. He had told her the schedule. He had told her exactly what he intended to do.
"But it's up to them," he had said. "I'm not threatening them. I'm not forcing them to do this. I'm just telling them that if they want my protection, they have to hurt an innocent girl to get it. Nothing's stopping them from refusing. If they don't wanna hurt you, all that happens is they have to leave here. They'd be no worse off than they were. But human beings are stunted, degraded creatures. They'll hurt you if it means they can be comfortable. This world the Goddess created, it's a dog-eat-dog world, Willow. Human beings are the dogs. I say put them to sleep."
In a way, the four hours off were worse than the pain. Nearly every moment, Willow felt the fevered beginnings of panic attacks, boiling inside her; they made her feel like a teapot when it started whistling. Sometimes she suddenly found it hard to breathe. She had to control herself, every moment. She'd had one panic attack in there already and she was deathly afraid of having another. And then there was the smell.
The people who came in every fifteen minutes to hurt her had noticed the smell too. "Christ, she's a stank bitch," one of them, a disheveled teenager with tattoos of flaming skulls on his forearms, had said at some indeterminate point in the past--Willow had long ago lost track of time, laying there in the dark--the boy giggled and held his nose as he kicked her in the stomach.
The urine was bad but it wasn't the only smell. People had spit on her. You didn't notice spit had a smell until someone spit on you and you couldn't wipe it off. Willow had dried-up spit all over her now.
She had gotten used to being spit on eventually. The first time one of them had spit on her--a man named Earl, Willow remembered--it had shocked her, and made her cry. But lots of people had spit on her since then. Willow thought some of them might have done it because they weren't comfortable hitting her. That made her feel a little better, as far as it went.
But most of them still hit her, and a good number of them seemed to enjoy it. Some of them attacked her with zeal, bordering on delight. It was like a game to them. They came to the closet every fifteen minutes like gawkers at a carnival. See the Bearded Lady. Whack a Mole.
And some of them got off on it. Some of the men had erections when they hurt her.
Most people punched her or kicked her, some spit on her. A few had apologized before they did it. Some were quick about it, trying to get it out of the way and over with, just a bit of unpleasantness that was unfortunate but necessary, while others lingered, enjoying the sight of a tortured, beaten, chained-up naked girl lying in a closet. A good number of the men and a few of the women had tried to touch her--her breasts, her butt, her legs. Xander had warned them off. Some people had gotten creative, as Xander had asked. A girl had pulled hairs out of Willow's head, one by one, and an old woman had bitten her on the ear. Eventually, Xander had made a new rule: no blows to the head. Too many people were hitting her in the head, and he was worried it might kill her. So they hit her in other places instead. The pain was just as bad.
Between the constant thirst and the pain, Willow couldn't sleep, and she needed a way to stop thinking about her breathing...to stop thinking about the closet...to keep the panic at bay.
She thought about Annabelle...
"There's my lil' tickle belly!" Tara shouted, as she ran into Willow's bedroom in her Willow glamour, and held out her arms, and smiled.
The locator spells hadn't worked. There was nothing left of Willow's to use. Tara made herself smile now, for Annabelle. She knew Willow would have wanted her to.
Annabelle burst into tears, and leapt off the bed and ran to her. She jumped into Tara's arms as Tara knelt down and held her.
"Oh, I missed my lil' sweetie so much," Tara whispered, and held Annabelle tight. "It's been...it's been...so hard without my sweetie."
"See, Annie?" Cordy said, and knelt beside them. "I told you Willow would be coming back! She just had to go to the library and look at all those books and do computer stuff."
Annabelle didn't move, or talk. She held on to Tara, and cried.
Tara was crying now, too.
"Missed my sweetie," Tara whispered, with tears running down her cheeks. "Missed my sweetie so much. It's been so hard...it's been so hard."
"Annie's all ready for bed," Cordy said. "It's been a long day, and I think we all need to go to sleep now, okay?" She caressed Annabelle's hair. "Okay, Annie?"
Annabelle looked up at Tara.
"Will you stay with me?" Annabelle whispered.
"Of course," Tara said. "Where else would I go? Always wanna be with my lil' pop tart belly. Have you been a good girl for Auntie Cordy and Auntie Tara?"
Annabelle nodded.
"She's been a great girl," Cordy said, and smiled. "Okay, Willow, Annie's in her nightgown and all ready for bed and I know you can definitely use some sleep yourself after spending all that time at the library. In the morning I'll make us all emmababas, okay?" She kissed Annabelle's cheek. "Emmababas sound good, Annie? Maybe some churros too?"
Annabelle nodded again, and curled up against Tara's bosom. A moment later, she fell asleep.
"Out like a light," Tara said.
"The kid's had a rough few days," Cordy said. "She's hardly slept at all. When we'd sleep she'd wake me up like every hour and ask when Willow was coming back."
"Good question. Wish I had an answer." Tara picked Annabelle up, carried her to the bed, and got under the covers with her.
"So this glamour spell thing, you can keep it going while you sleep?"
"Yeah, it's like a fire and forget spell. I don't need to concentrate to maintain it, it's just a steady power drain. As long as I don't cast any other magic the glamour will hold up."
"How long? How much power do you have?"
"A glamour like this, cast on just one person, I can keep this up for a couple weeks at least. Sleep will help. Maybe some food."
Tara still had tears running down her cheeks.
"You okay?" Cordy said.
"No," Tara said. "I can't cast any more locator spells for her, that means...it means I don't even have a way to tell if she's even still alive out there anymore."
Cordy nodded.
"The crying was okay for tonight, Willow would have cried too, seeing Annie again," Cordy said. "But that's the last time you can cry around her. I know it's tough, I know it sucks. I'm sorry. But we both know what Willow would want now. She'd want us to keep Annie happy. Annie's a smart kid, she'll pick up on it if you keep moping around. Starting tomorrow morning, you can't cry anymore, Tara. Starting tomorrow morning, you have to let Willow go."
"I'll stop crying," Tara said. "But I'll never let her go."
Buffy found herself looking down into a dark space. At some nebulous point in the distance behind her, there were voices...it sounded like there were hundreds of them. It sounded like there was some sort of party going on. She couldn't understand what the voices were saying, but they seemed amused. Buffy heard laughter.
The dark space in front of her smelled bad, like urine and saliva, and, vaguely, bleach. But there was another smell...
Strawberries...Willow.
And then Buffy caught a glimpse of her, laying curled up in a little ball, next to a bucket full of piss.
Willow's scent was off. She was afraid, and her fear was changing her scent...souring it. Buffy could hear her heartbeat too, pounding.
It was hard to get a good look at her in the dark. Willow was trembling, and her face was obscured. But Buffy could see that Willow's nose and her mouth were covered with dried-up blood. Her eyes had dark rings beneath them, as if she hadn't slept in days. Her body was covered with bruises and sores, nearly from head to toe. Some were fresh, while others were faded an ugly yellowish-brown color.
Willow was naked, and in chains.
"Willow?" Buffy said, and crouched down beside her.
Willow made a mewling sound, and tried to crawl away from her. But there was nowhere to go in there...the little dark space was just wide enough for Willow and the piss bucket.
"Don't," Willow whimpered, and curled up even tighter in her little ball. "Please don't."
Buffy touched her cheek.
"It's me," Buffy said. "Will, it's me. I'm gonna save you. I always save you."
Willow looked up at her, for the first time. For the first time, Buffy could really see Willow's face.
Willow's skin was wrinkled and yellow, and mottled with age spots. It stretched tight across her face, like the skin of a drum. Willow's eyes and her cheeks were sunken. Her whole face seemed to have shrunk...it looked like a skull. Willow's hair was long and tangled and gray, reaching all the way down to her waist, but clumps of it had fallen out. Buffy saw it now: the little closet was lined with Willow's gray hair like a bed of straw.
Willow's body was emaciated, skeletal. Her legs were two little wrinkled sticks, and they seemed deformed, as if they had grown in an unnatural way, bent and twisted from laying curled up in there so long. Her breasts were tiny, wrinkled, sagging things, like two deflated balloons.
Buffy screamed when she saw her, and then she burst into tears. Somewhere behind her, the laughter got louder.
Willow was trembling, as she looked up at Buffy. She trembled all over, uncontrollably.
"You can't save me anymore, Buffy," Willow whispered, her voice weak and faltering. Willow's teeth were almost all gone, Buffy noticed; all that was left were a few rotting brown stumps. "It's all changed now. We can never be together now...you can never be my love now."
"I'm sorry," Buffy said, and hugged her. Willow was covered in piss. It got on Buffy's clothes, and into her hair. She held on to Willow anyway. "I'm sorry I left you in here so long. I just...couldn't find you. I looked and I looked but...but...you were taken away."
"You're not the one who finds me," Willow said.
"Buffy!" Riley shouted.
Buffy woke up with a shriek. It echoed. She looked around.
Her head had been resting against Riley's shoulder. She was clutching his arm now, with all her strength. She was shaking.
"Where...?" Buffy whispered. "Where'd she go?" It was dark. The air was cold. She got her bearings.
She was in the jeep. Looking for Willow...she must have fallen asleep.
Riley was driving. He had the heat sensor. But they were stopped...parked in the middle of a rubble-strewn street. All the buildings on either side of the street had burned, and a few had collapsed. The trees had gone up, too; they looked like charred torches. The moon made everything seem like Buffy was watching it through a red filter...like the world was burning.
"You had a nightmare," Riley said. "You okay?"
"No," Buffy said. She felt tears running down her cheeks, on to her chin. She let go of Riley, and wiped them away.
His scent was on her now. She liked Riley's scent: it was earthy, like fresh-cut grass. She must have been sleeping on his shoulder for awhile, she thought.
"How long did I sleep?" Buffy said. "And why aren't you driving?"
"A couple hours maybe," Riley said. "I just pulled over a minute ago when you screamed in your sleep."
Buffy took the heat sensor from him. "Let's get moving. Any hits while I was out?"
"Nope," Riley said, and got the jeep in gear again, driving slow, as Buffy aimed the sensor straight ahead.
"Still batting a thousand," Buffy said. "Almost three days of this now and we haven't seen a single person out here. You'd at least think some people might be hiding in their houses."
"This part of the state's been hit hard. Lots of fires."
"We reach Santa Maria yet?" Buffy felt warmer than she had in awhile...she realized she was wearing Riley's coat.
"Yeah, about an hour ago," Riley said. He looked over at her. "You were cold. You kept shivering."
"Thanks," Buffy said, and started to shrug out of his coat. But he shook his head, and stopped her.
"You need your coat," Buffy said. "It's freezing out here."
"Keep it," he said. "I'm an Iowa boy. We had real winters back in Iowa. You think this is freezing? You California folks don't know what freezing is. Tonight's what my grandma would've called brisk. Besides, a gentleman always gives a lady his coat. Kind of a rule."
"Thanks," Buffy said, and smiled. "Just when I thought the world was fresh out of gentlemen."
"There's a few of us left," Riley said. "Could you grab me one of those MRE's from my backpack?"
"Grab you a whosie?" Buffy said.
"Meals Ready to Eat," Riley said. "Also affectionately known as 'Meals Rejected By Everyone,' or 'Meals, Rarely Edible'. They're military rations. Better than eating your boots. Not a whole lot better though."
Buffy grabbed Riley's pack from the back seat and rifled through it with one hand while keeping the heat sensor aimed straight ahead. She pulled out a bunch of brown plastic pouches.
"This one says spaghetti and meatballs," Buffy said. "Plus we've got...um, hot dogs... bean and rice burrito...thai chicken...pork chow mein..."
"Keep the pork chow mein the hell away from me," Riley said. "You hungry? I brought plenty, and these are the big ones. Each one has enough calories to get a hungry soldier through a long, hard day of kickin' ass and takin' names."
"Nah, I ate pretty good at that White Castle burger place we found. This one says peanut butter and jelly. I'd totally go with the peanut butter and jelly if I were you."
"Gimme the peanut butter and jelly. Since I'm such a gentleman I'll let you have the dessert."
"First he gives me his coat, then he gives up his dessert for me. My heart's going pitter-patter over here. Are they good desserts?"
Neither of them had showered. Riley's natural scent was strong. The longer they went without showering, the stronger it became. And the more Buffy liked it.
"Desserts are the best part because they're usually not homemade," Riley said. "Usually they're like Twinkies or candy bars."
Buffy smiled again, as she handed him the MRE.
"If there's a Twinkie in there, Captain Finn, it just might be love," Buffy said.
Riley tore open the MRE, and smiled back at her.
"Snickers Bar," he said.
There was a ping sound. Riley dropped the MRE. Buffy immediately whirled around and looked down at the heat sensor.
"Human heat reading!" Buffy said. She tried to control herself. It didn't mean they had found Willow. It could be anyone out there...
Riley looked down at the sensor, and then back out at the road.
"Four-hundred ninety yards and closing, dead ahead," he said, and floored it, while Buffy concentrated on her senses...
A second later she had a scent. It was a woman...
It wasn't Willow.
They came upon the woman, sitting on the curb in front of a burnt-out husk that was once a house, holding a gun in her hand.
Riley pulled the jeep up next to her.
"Ma'am?" he said, as he and Buffy climbed out of the jeep, slowly.
The woman looked down at the gun in her hand. She was dirty, and covered with soot. Her face was puffy and bruised. Her arm was bleeding; it had been bandaged with rags that had bled through.
"We're not gonna hurt you," Buffy said.
"Can't be hurt anymore," the woman said. "It's all gone."
She looked up at them. She had been pretty, once, Buffy thought. But now something had gone out of her. She was as much a husk as the charred embers that were all that remained of the house behind her.
"We can take you somewhere safe," Riley said, approaching her cautiously, one hand resting on the flap of his holster. "We have a place, the government runs it. No one can get in, no one can hurt you there. We'll take care of you."
He held out his hand.
The woman started to cry. Her dirty, soot-streaked face became ugly, as it crumpled up in tears.
"My baby's dead," she whispered. "He burned in his crib, back in the house. I'm dead now too."
And then Buffy screamed, as the woman lifted the gun to her temple, and shot herself.
The scream and the thunder of the gunshot mingled together, and echoed for awhile. But then the darkness absorbed them, and they faded away to nothing.
The woman's head fell forward, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She sat there on the curb, bleeding out. Her blood pooled in the gutter. The smell of the gunshot lingered on the cold air.
Buffy knelt in front of her, and hugged her.
"I don't even know your name," Buffy whispered. "I don't...I don't even know your baby's name either. You were both here and now you're gone and...I don't even know your names."
The woman's blood was flowing down the front of Buffy's shirt. The warmth was leaving the woman's body. Buffy could feel the woman's temperature dropping.
"You're not supposed to just...just...give up!" Buffy shouted. "We're supposed to all stick together! There aren't that many of us left, they're trying to kill us all and we all have to be strong!"
"You don't just GIVE UP!" Buffy said, crying now. "You can't. We can't."
"Buffy," Riley said, and put his hand on Buffy's shoulder, as Buffy began to shake, her shoulders heaving now. "We should...get going. We have to keep searching."
Buffy held on to the woman, and cried.
"I didn't even know your name," Buffy whispered.
The closet door opened. Willow knew her four hours were up. It was time for her to be hurt again.
Willow looked up into the darkness, and saw a woman.
"My name is Ellie Padgett," the woman said.
Willow tried to be strong. She didn't shrink away from her. She didn't curl up into a ball, or try to cover herself.
"I don't really want to do this," Ellie said, and shrugged her shoulders, and kicked Willow in the stomach. Willow slammed into the wall.
"And that's the problem," Ellie said. "I'm weak. Human beings are weak. We're born to be predators, hunters. All our instincts tell us that's what we are. That we have to take what we want. But the world changes us. Society, religion, this stupid fucking idea of morality, they dilute us...turn us into weaklings and cowards."
Ellie smiled. "I know, I talk too much. But hey, I'm a college professor. Anthropology. Being a windbag is sort of an occupational hazard."
Willow screamed, as Ellie stepped on her face, crushing it into the floor.
"This stupid idea that there's a God up there who gives a shit about us, who keeps a list of who's naughty and who's nice like fucking Santa Claus," Ellie said. "That idea makes us weak, emasculates us, holds us back. I was weak. I was ready to kill myself out there, because I kept praying and God wasn't doing shit for me. My parents raised me to be religious, y'know? I was a Protestant. But I'm an anthropology teacher for Christ's sake, I know religion is ridiculous. But I guess we can't ever really get over that programming our parents give us. Maybe if I was born in Saudi Arabia I'd be praising Allah and wearing a veil and blowing shit up. So anyway I had the gun, I was all set, ready to die like a little fucking crybaby bitch. Then I decided, you know what? Fuck God. I'm not gonna fucking sit here being all weepy-waily because some fucking imaginary elf sitting in the sky doesn't want to come down here and give me a hug. I'm not gonna kill myself. If the world wants me dead the world's gonna have to kill me itself. And then, a second later, the First sent his angels to me. Because I was strong. Because I'm the future of the human race, and you? You are the past. Weakness is the past."
Ellie was wearing construction boots with thick, heavy heels. Willow whimpered, as the heel dug into her cheek, crushing it like a mallet.
"Not too much pressure," Willow heard Xander say. "Remember, no blows to the head."
Ellie nodded. "The First is showing me the way now," she said, and smiled down at Willow again, as Willow laid naked and whimpering beneath her heel. "The First is gonna start it all over, and in the new world, we're gonna be strong. Weak bitches like you will be our slaves."
Ellie unzipped her jeans, and began pulling them down. She lifted her boot from Willow's face. Willow could breathe again. She laid there, catching her breath.
"Said no sex stuff, Ellie," Willow heard Xander say. "Not that two gals getting it on isn't kinda fun to watch. But rules are rules."
"It's not sex stuff, master," Ellie said. She pulled down her jeans, and her panties, and then a moment later Willow suddenly felt her head being yanked upward.
Ellie was squatting over her. Willow found herself staring up into Ellie's crotch.
Ellie's hips were wide, and her legs were flabby. Her crotch smelled like dried-up sweat, because she hadn't bathed. Willow tried to turn away, but Ellie held her still, with her hands yanking her hair.
"Sure looks like sex stuff," Xander said. "I like you, Ellie. You're my favorite. But I'll kill you, if you disobey me."
"I'd never disobey you, master," Ellie said, and yanked Willow's hair. "How much time do I have?"
"About three minutes," Xander said.
"Cool. I'm gonna get that prize for being creative." She sneered down at Willow. Her pussy was wet. Willow could see it now, because Ellie wouldn't let her turn away. Ellie's sex smell was strong. Willow didn't like the smell.
"I don't like girls," Ellie said. "I'm not a dyke. This would be more fun if you were a guy. But I'll be damned if I don't love having some little bitch slave doing what I tell her. Kind of a turn-on. That's my whole point, Willow. I was created this way, human beings were created this way. We're animals, hunters. Why fight what we are? If God wanted us to turn the other cheek, why would He give us these urges? The history of the human race is a history of violence. The strong enslave the weak. In every single human culture throughout history, every single one, that's how it went. Is it all some big fucking game? Is God playing a joke? Whatever. I'm playing by my own rules now. I have to piss, and I've decided I'm gonna piss in your mouth. If you open your mouth and swallow it for me like a good slave, I won't hit you. If you refuse, I'm gonna kick the shit out of you and piss in your mouth anyway. What's it gonna be, slave girl?"
Willow closed her eyes, and started to cry.
"Open your mouth, slave," Ellie whispered, and pulled Willow's hair again. "Take your medicine."
Willow shook her head.
Ellie pulled Willow's hair again. She yanked a clump of it out this time. Willow screamed.
"Last chance," Ellie said. "You're gonna take my piss in your mouth, Willow. One way or the other. Swallow it down voluntarily like a good slave, you don't have to take pain with it."
Willow kept her mouth closed tight, and shook her head again. She thought about Annabelle.
"Have it your way, I'll get that mouth open," Ellie said, and grabbed Willow's nose, and held it tight, so she couldn't breathe...
Willow cried, and held her breath as long as she could, and thought about Annabelle...
Tara laid on the couch, in her Willow glamour, holding Annabelle in her arms. She touched her hand to the crystal she always wore...it pulsed with power, like a beating heart. It felt warm against her chest.
Tara had never once taken that crystal off, in all the days of her life. She slept with it, and showered with it.
Willow had given it to her. The crystal was a promise, that she and Willow had made to each other.
But Willow was gone...and Tara wondered now if that promise would be broken.
The grandfather clock ticked the moments away. Every moment, Willow was further away...every moment, hope grew less.
It was just past eight in the morning. It had been three days since Willow left.
They had spent the day playing Hungry Hungry Hippos and reading Doctor Seuss books together, and Annabelle had finally fallen asleep. So Tara had let herself cry for awhile, in the dark. She had cried, while she thought of the things that might be happening to Willow...if Willow was even still alive. Tara had no way to know if Willow was still alive anymore. She couldn't cast locator spells anymore. There was nothing left to use.
But Tara was rested, now...she had finally regained her strength. She was awake and alert...she was ready to cast spells again.
The spell she was about to cast required a lot of strength...but now she was ready.
Tara sat up, and looked at the statue of Athena in the candlelight. Athena regarded her, looming bright in the shadows, queenly upon her pedestal, her sword held high, ready for battle. Athena seemed to be looking right at her, Tara thought. The statue's eyes seemed to follow you around the room.
There was a dagger on the coffee table in front of the couch, next to the radio. Tara hadn't heard anything from the radio for awhile. Cordy had confirmed that no one had been talking on the radio much while she had been sleeping either. The search was continuing, but none of the search teams had anything new to report. Sometimes they found someone out there, some ragged, terrified survivor. They always gave them supplies if they needed them, and took note of their location so they could pick them up later and bring them back to the Initiative after they found Willow. But they hadn't found Willow. Maybe they never would.
Tara knew there was a deadline. If December third, the first full moon after the disaster, came and went without Willow praying for humanity, they would all be lost. There would be nothing to be done, then...humanity would be doomed to extinction.
It was November 28th. They had five days left. Tara stood up, picked up the dagger, and sliced her palm open.
She walked to the statue, and held her palm out, and let the blood drip down upon the pedestal.
"Goddess Athena, accept my offering," Tara whispered, and knelt at Athena's feet, and closed her eyes...
"You come to me in a strange guise, Tara," the goddess said. "Though not an unwelcome one."
Tara opened her eyes, and looked around. She was kneeling in front of Athena's throne. Athena sat before her, in her flowing white robe, and her battle armor and her helmet, with her sword girded around her waist, her shield upon her back, and her spear leaning against the throne, close at hand.
Tara met Athena's eyes, and immediately looked down.
"Am I so terrible?" Athena said, and smiled.
Then the goddess stood up, and bowed low, and took Tara's hand.
"Come, Tara," Athena said. "Do not be afraid of me. Talk with me. It has been too long since I've seen you. You always bring cheer to these gloomy halls."
"Thanks," Tara said, and stood up with her. "Um...um...hi."
Athena's hair was like spun gold. Her blue eyes were deep and bright and sharp as two swords. Her skin was perfect as unblemished ivory. She stood very tall, and Tara knew she was very strong, and she was beautiful: more beautiful than any vision of beauty Tara could imagine. And Tara liked girls. It always made things awkward, when she saw Athena face to face. It always took Tara a little while to relax.
"You look tired, Tara," Athena said, as she looked into Tara's eyes, and saw everything that was there. "Some wine will get the blood moving in your veins again. Say what you will about the Lesbians, they make excellent wine."
Athena moved to a small wooden table against the far wall, upon which stood a jug of wine and two clay cups. Athena wasn't ostentatious. She had no interest in riches, in jewels or precious things: she was a warrior. Her throne room was solid marble, unadorned. There were many windows, so the sun could shine in, and there was a great hole cut in the roof, so the tree that had been planted in the exact center of the room could grow through it. It was an olive tree, sacred to Athena, but much older and larger and more magnificent than any olive tree that had ever existed upon the Earth. Its thick trunk, gnarled and twisted, nevertheless shot up hundreds of meters into the sky, brimming with silvery-green leaves, and abundant with delicate, beautiful white flowers. The flowers drifted to the floor of Athena's throne room like snowflakes, and over the centuries they had come to cover nearly everything, creating a soft, sweet-scented carpet of white for the marble floor, and making the place appear, to Tara, like the morning after a snowfall.
There was a dented shield hanging upon one wall, and a rug upon the floor, and that was the extent of the decoration. But Athena loved books: she was the Goddess of Wisdom, as well as war. Thousands of papyrus scrolls were piled high upon massive cedar shelves reaching to the ceiling on every wall.
And there was a cedar trunk sitting on the floor in the corner...Tara always wondered what Athena kept in there. It was too small to hold weapons, and she kept the papyrus scrolls on the wooden shelves...
"Um...lesbians make great wine?" Tara said.
"The people of the island of Lesbos are known for their Pramnian wine and I have here a bottle of a most excellent vintage," Athena said, and poured two cups. "And I've been waiting for an excuse to open it." She came back to Tara, walking on flowers, with the cups and the bottle in her hands, and smiled. "Warriors may be stalwart and brave and true but they make rather boorish company I'm afraid. It's wonderful that you happened by." She gave Tara a cup, raised her own cup to her, and drank. Tara drank too.
The wine was wonderful. It smelled flowery, and tasted very sweet, almost like nectar. Go Lesbians, Tara thought.
"Dionysus is a ridiculous prancing fool," Athena said. "But he gave us wine, so I suppose he's proved to be of some small value." Athena took Tara's hand, and sat on the steps leading to her throne, and sat Tara down beside her. The steps were covered in flowers too. They sat beside each other, comfortable in the silence, and finished their wine, and Athena refilled their cups.
Athena's throne was marble, unadorned. The throne was rather small. Tara knew that the Greeks, especially the Athenians, would have built for Athena a castle made of solid gold that reached to the very clouds, if she desired it. They would have built her a massive throne, studded with enough precious gems to buy a kingdom. But that wasn't Athena. A simple stone chair was enough for her.
It was one of the reasons the Greeks loved her so much...one of the reasons Tara loved her so much. Any other god would have sat upon her throne, and made Tara kneel at her feet in front of it while they talked. Athena sat with Tara upon the steps, two old friends drinking wine.
"I know why you're here," Athena said.
"You know...about Willow?" Tara said. "How she's been captured? You know all the crazy stuff that's been happening? The end of the world, all that stuff?"
"Yes. I watch over you. So I know the things you know."
"I need your help, goddess. I can't find her, none of us can find her. And if we don't...if we don't the world will end."
Athena nodded. She looked at Tara. Tara immediately looked down. Athena was beautiful, and Tara trusted her. But Athena's eyes always scared her.
"I can't help you," Athena said.
Tara looked up. "But...but you're Athena! Y-you can do anything. If anyone can f-find Willow, you can."
Athena took Tara's hand.
"The world is a story, Tara," Athena said. "But I am not its author, and neither are you. The Creator is its author, and we are merely players upon Her stage."
"The Creator," Tara said. "You mean the Goddess. So where is She? Everything's falling apart out there and She's nowhere to be seen."
Athena smiled. "She is closer than you think. But if anyone can get the world through these travails, it is you mortals, Tara, not me. You have more freedom than me; unlike we gods, your part is not set. The Creator sees all that will come to pass, but She gave you mortals free will with which to act within Her creation, to create the story with Her. The story cannot be changed by me. Certain things must happen, certain events must come to pass, and for the tale to unfold as the Creator intended, I cannot help you to skip to the end of it. That ending must be earned, Tara, in courage and in blood spilled, in the deeds, both great and small, both noble and treacherous, that you mortals do in these last dark days in which you are to be tested, and most of all, in the sacrifices you make for love. They must be your sacrifices. You are being tested, Tara. All of humanity is being tested, and I cannot help you, as much as it pains me."
"But...but you have to!" Tara shouted, and took Athena's hands in hers, and held on to her. "Please! Please, I'll...I'll do anything! Anything you want, anything!"
Athena hugged her.
"I'm sorry," Athena whispered...
And Tara was back in the living room, kneeling in front of the statue.
"Willow?" Annabelle said.
Tara hurriedly wiped her tears away, and got her smile back in place.
"There's my pretty lil' pop tart belly," Tara said, and sat back down on the couch. Annabelle jumped into her lap and hugged her.
"You sleep okay, sweetie?" Tara said, and kissed her cheek.
"I had a dream that you were gone," Annabelle whispered.
They hadn't talked. They had spent three days together, and they hadn't said a word.
Rebecca had spent years of her life obsessed with this man...this creature. She had spent years chasing after him, hunting him, watching for signs as she discovered and then lost and then discovered his trail yet again, sifting through his leavings, examining the destruction he left in his wake, trying to understand him. And now here he was, sitting in the car beside her, utterly composed, perfectly serene, as they drove interminably up and down the devastated streets of Los Angeles, on yet another hunt, while Rebecca had to hold on for dear life to keep from falling to pieces inside...
She had only known Willow two days, before the girl disappeared. But seeing her again now, for the first time since she was sixteen, had a profound effect on Rebecca. She cared about Willow, she had come to realize. Somehow, in only two days, she had gotten close to her. This Willow was different from the Willow Rebecca had met when she was sixteen...this Willow was younger, less sure of herself. But she was still Willow. She was still the woman who had saved Rebecca's life...really, she had shaped Rebecca's life. She had determined its course. More than anyone else Rebecca had ever known, Willow had decided what Rebecca would be.
Willow had saved Rebecca's life, and given her a chance to become strong. She had opened Rebecca's eyes and showed her the world, pulled back the curtain and revealed the world for what it really was...a magical place. And a dangerous one. Willow had done all that for Rebecca, all in a day.
And Willow had Faith's memories, which made Willow feel very close to Rebecca--Rebecca knew Willow loved her, every bit as much as Faith did, but Willow didn't want to presume too much, didn't want to put herself between Rebecca and Faith, so Willow had kept her distance.
Thinking about Willow in the hands of the enemy now, Rebecca felt her control slipping. She wanted to lash out at something, and the vampire sitting next to her would have made a lovely candidate. It was an effort to keep herself together. But she knew she had to. The girls needed her to be strong. Faith needed her to be strong.
Angel, for his part, seemed bored as he drove. He kept his eyes on the road, looking for any sign out there that might conceivably give them a clue to Willow's whereabouts, but he seemed detached from everything. Their situation was an intellectual challenge, but it didn't engage his feelings. He might as well have been doing a crossword puzzle. It made Rebecca want to kill him just a little bit more.
But Rebecca needed Angel right now. He was their best tracker and their best fighter. She would just have to control her impulses, and refrain from staking the butchering bastard.
And Rebecca could do that. She could control her impulses. She had spent decades learning how.
But she didn't have to like it...
There were a million things she would have liked to ask Angel: he had lived two and a half centuries, he had seen the world change. The founding of the United States, the industrial revolution, Napoleon, two world wars...he had seen it all. But Rebecca didn't want to talk to him. Talking to him was a way of acknowledging that he was a person. Rebecca didn't want him to be a person, she had never thought of him as a person, and she had no intention of starting now. She called him Angel instead of Angelus because Faith wanted her to. She allowed him to live in the house with the girls because Faith wanted her to. But Angel was an animal, an animal Rebecca had spent a very long time hunting, and she would never allow herself to lose sight of that fact. He was tame, for the moment...domesticated. Like a wolf that had been house-trained and kept as a dog. But like the wolf, Angel's instincts were a predator's instincts, and they were always there, and they could never be erased...they could surface again, instantly, at any moment. When they did, Rebecca intended to be ready.
Faith and Buffy and Tara could think of him as a person if they wanted to. Rebecca would see him as he really was. She planned to keep a healthy disdain for him in her heart at all times. It would make it easier when they had to destroy him someday.
Someday, the wolf would have to be put down. Rebecca was certain of it.
The two of them had been silent for three days, as they explored what was left of Los Angeles, driving along their assigned grid. They were doing the northern section of the city now, near Glendale. Huge swaths of it were wrecked. The power was out in most neighborhoods and fires still burned, everywhere. Bodies choked the streets in places, making certain areas all but impassable by car. The air was so thick with smoke that at one point Rebecca had to wear a gas mask for a few hours, and the fires lit up the black sky with a hellish red glow. It was amazing, the amount of damage the vampires had been able to do, Rebecca thought. They apparently meant to demolish the city, and they had gotten off to a fair start. Fires had wrecked a good portion of it, and the vampires had apparently been using explosives too, because entire skyscrapers had been reduced to rubble. Parts of Los Angeles looked like Berlin at the end of the second world war: like a skeleton of a city. In three days they hadn't found signs of even a single human being, anywhere. They had seen thousands of dead bodies, maybe tens of thousands. But they hadn't come across a single living soul, in that corpse of a city.
The vampires didn't just want to kill human beings, Rebecca thought. They wanted to destroy our culture...obliterate all the things we had built...erase even the memory of us from the world. And if they killed Willow, or even if they simply managed to hold on to her until the next full moon had passed, they would succeed...
Rebecca and Angel had seen a group of vampires torching an art museum the day before. The roving bands of vampires they came across didn't bother attacking them: they could smell that Angel was a vampire and so they assumed Rebecca was his prisoner. It made things easier. There had been no human beings in the area of the museum, no food for the vampires to be hunting. The vampires had specifically targeted the museum. Rebecca hadn't understood why at the time. Now, looking up at the obliterated Los Angeles skyline, she did. The First wanted to create a new human culture.
Rebecca hadn't slept worth a damn. It had been three days and she had gotten perhaps a few hours sleep. But she could go without sleep. It was something else she had taught herself.
Rebecca picked up the radio.
"Team three to team two," Rebecca said, into the radio.
"Team two," Faith's voice came back.
Rebecca smiled, for the first time in six hours. She checked in on Faith every six hours.
"Hey, Becca," Faith said. "Checkin' up on me again?"
"Hello, darling," Rebecca said. "Yes, it's a difficult habit to break. I'm afraid I'm just going to keep on being a bother."
"I like when you're a bother. Everything's the same out here. Where you guys at? Still cruisin' around L.A.?"
"Yes, are you still in Glendale? We're headed that way."
"Yup, maybe we'll meet up. How's GQ? He behavin' himself? You guys gettin' along?"
"Yes, we're getting along famously. We spend all our time laughing and singing songs."
"Bet you guys are all like singin' a hundred bottles of beer on the wall."
"Plus we do that I Spy game," Angel said. "I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with 'V'."
"Yeah, we've been spyin' a lot of stuff beginning with 'V' too," Faith said.
"Any problems?" Rebecca said. "You're handling them the way I told you, right?"
"Shoot 'em, wait 'til they drop, then stake 'em," Faith said. "Yup. These M-16's take a big bite outta the vamps. Thinkin' these things should be standard issue for Slayers."
"Just remember what I told you, Faith, don't go looking for trouble. Avoid fights when you can, save your strength."
"You call the plays, Becca."
Rebecca always checked in on Buffy and Tara too. Every six hours like clockwork. Riley might have been in charge of the teams, but Faith and Buffy and Tara were her girls.
Buffy had seen someone commit suicide. A woman had shot herself in the head, in front of Buffy's eyes. For her part, Tara couldn't cast any more locator spells. She had no way of finding out if Willow was even still alive now.
Rebecca had long conversations with both of them, a few hours before. She'd held them together, as best she could. She told them Willow was alive. She said it like she believed it. But she wasn't sure she did.
The heat sensor made a ping sound.
"What the hell is that?" Angel said.
"Contact," Rebecca said, studying the sensor. "Human heat signatures, two of them. Bearing east, a little less than five-hundred meters."
"Okay, now say it in English."
"Speed up and take the next left."
When Angel raced the jeep around the corner they saw a nun and an old man standing together under a streetlamp, the only working streetlamp they had seen for miles around, in front of the ruined husk of a burned church. It had been a small church, and it had collapsed into rubble. It was a bare, obliterated shell now, scorched and blackened from the flames and waterlogged from the efforts to fight the fire; it was no more than a few burned wooden sticks hanging together in the dark.
The nun stood among the charred and flooded remains of the church, a compost heap of wrecked precious things, the detritus of pews and statuary and fragments of stained glass, of melted scraps of gold and silver that flickered in the light of the streetlamp, of goblets and hymnals and ornamental candles, all lying in a mucky pile at her feet. She stood at a charred lectern, the burnt remains of a marble cross propped up behind her in the rubble, and a soot-streaked Bible opened in front of her. Her left arm was broken; someone had made a crude sling for it. The old man stood a few feet away, his hands clasped in prayer, his head bowed. The nun and the old man both looked too thin.
"Forgive us our trespasses," the nun said, as Angel and Rebecca parked the jeep in the middle of the street in front of her. "As we forgive those who trespass against us."
"What are they doing?" Angel said.
"What does it look like?" Rebecca said, and got out of the car, and brought an armful of MRE's with her.
"And lead us not into temptation..." the nun continued.
She looked at Angel, as he crossed the street toward her.
"...But deliver us from evil," she said. "Welcome to the Church of Saint Michael the Archangel. I am sister Theresa, and this is my good friend John. Would you pray with us?"
"Got better things to do," Angel said.
"Forgive him, sister, he's an arse," Rebecca said. "My name is Rebecca Greer. We have some food here for you. It tastes rather dreadful but it's food. Military rations. Each of these can get you through a day."
Theresa smiled. She was young for a nun, Rebecca thought. But she had an ease about her, a confidence, despite the situation. As if her faith really was enough.
"Thank you, Rebecca," Theresa said. "The offer to pray with us is still open."
"Thought nuns couldn't perform mass," Angel said.
"That's true," Theresa said. "But we seem to have a shortage of priests, and I don't think the Lord would want his Word halted by a foolish adherence to tradition."
"We have to go, we're looking for someone who's in trouble," Rebecca said. "But we're going to send people back for you, after we find her. There's a safe place, a military installation where no one will be able to harm you. Right now all the troops are helping in the search and we can't spare anyone. But right after we find her we'll send some troops to pick you up and bring you there."
"This girl who's in trouble, what is her name?" Theresa said.
"Willow," Rebecca said.
"We'll pray for her," Theresa said.
"Thank you, we can use all the help we can get," Rebecca said. She left fourteen MRE's in a pile beside the lectern. "That's enough to last you both a week. Have one a day."
"Thank you," the old man said, and smiled. The side of his head was bandaged, and he wore another bandage over his eye. He was all skin and bones. He stood there, hunched over and swaying a little, as if he could collapse any moment. But even though he swayed he stood there just the same, and he didn't collapse.
"Take care of yourselves," Theresa said, and shook Rebecca's hand.
"We'll try," Rebecca said. "It's dark out there."
"Always darkest before the dawn," Theresa said, and smiled again. She had a lovely smile, Rebecca thought. That smile almost made Rebecca believe everything really would be okay. "And what is your name?" Theresa added, looking at Angel.
Angel had already turned away, and was heading back to the jeep.
He stopped, and looked back at her.
"Angel," he said.
"John and I are going to pray for you too," Theresa said.
"Don't need it," Angel said.
"Nevertheless," Theresa said.
As Angel got the jeep in gear and they drove away, Rebecca saw Theresa pull two communion wafers from her pocket.
"For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours, now and forever," they heard the old man say.
"Idiots," Angel said, as he drove away.
He could still hear them praying. He sped up, but their prayers followed him.
"Lord Jesus Christ, you said to your apostles, I leave you peace, my peace I give you," he heard Theresa murmuring. "Look not on our sins, but on the faith of your Church, and grant us the peace and unity of your kingdom where you live for ever and ever."
"You know, I think I finally have you figured out," Rebecca said, as she leaned out the window, aiming the heat sensor into the darkness.
"Yeah?" Angel said.
"You don't believe in anything," Rebecca said. "You never did. Not as Liam, not as Angelus, not as Angel. You feel the burden of all those lives you destroyed, and it hurts. You can't find any peace. But not because you killed all those people. You can't find peace, because there's nothing for you in this world. Nothing you can believe in."
"The peace of the Lord be with you always," Angel heard Theresa saying. He sped up again, as much as he could. He needed to keep the speed down so they could sweep the area with the heat sensor.
"A lot of people have tried analyzing me over the years," Angel said. "It gets kind of old after awhile. I'm a murderer but I'm not vain. I don't need to talk about myself all day."
"The hell you're not vain," Rebecca said. "If you weren't so vain you would've killed yourself by now. This whole quest of yours, this whole attempt to be a hero, it's vanity. If I had done the things you did, if I knew there was always going to be a risk that I'd lose my soul and do those things again, I'd have killed myself. But it's all a numbers game to you, isn't it? You killed thirteen-thousand and change, so you think perhaps if you save thirteen-thousand and change the scales might balance, and you might finally be free of your guilt. You don't actually believe in what you're doing, you don't do it because it's right. You don't believe in what's right. You're doing it to balance the ledger, like some damned accountant going over the books."
"Kinda liked it better when we weren't talking."
"You don't give a shit about Willow," Rebecca said. "All you care about is escaping the pain, ending the guilt. Willow's just another number to you. But you're right. It was better when we weren't talking. So let's not."
They drove on into the dark, in silence.
Willow had vomited, after Ellie was through with her. The closet smelled like piss and vomit now.
The closet door opened again. Willow didn't bother looking up this time. Her face was covered with Ellie's urine, and she couldn't wipe it off. She had rubbed her face against the floor, but it didn't help much. It just smeared the urine around. At least she didn't taste it in her mouth anymore. There was only the aftertaste of her own vomit now. Willow preferred that.
She was still crying, she realized, as the light from outside assailed her, laid her bare again, like a circus animal on display. She had cried when Ellie forced her mouth open, and she had been crying ever since. She hadn't even really noticed the last two people who had come into the closet to beat her.
"I'm Michael Figueroa," a voice said.
Willow looked up. A man was standing there. He was a priest. He still wore the collar.
"I'm sorry I have to do this," the priest said.
"Then...don't," Willow whispered. She could barely get the words out. Her mouth was so dry, and her tongue was so swollen, that talking was an effort.
"The First has promised us protection," the priest said. "A new beginning for the human race, if only I give up my false faith."
"Wasn't...false," Willow whispered.
"Do you see Christ anywhere? Do you see Him saving us? I don't. So there are two possible explanations. Either He's abandoned us, we of His flock who have worshipped Him and done His bidding all our lives without complaint, or everything I thought was true was just bullshit. Fairy tales."
"Loving...your neighbor...not a...fairy tale," Willow whispered. "Messenger's not... what's important. It's...the message. Not Christ...his words."
The priest leaned down close to her. He didn't scare Willow, like some of the others had. He didn't try to touch her, didn't linger upon her with his eyes. Willow didn't feel as compelled to hide from him. She laid there, waiting, and crying.
When Willow cried now, tears never came. It had been days since she'd had anything to drink other than Ellie's urine. Her body was desperately trying to conserve water. She had no saliva in her mouth, no tears on her cheeks. She felt like she was turning to dust in there.
"I'm sorry," the priest said. "But there is no God. No God but the First."
Willow looked at him. He was a little old Hispanic man with thick, iron-gray hair, a kind face, and sad, tired eyes.
For some reason, Willow felt compelled to talk to him. She hadn't really talked to the others. This one, she felt the urge to talk to.
"Yes there is, Michael," Willow whispered.
Michael's eyes filled with tears.
He spit in Willow's face.
Then he turned his back upon her, and walked away.
The closet door closed, and Willow was alone in the dark again.
It had been four days. They didn't know if Willow was dead or alive.
Faith acknowledged the fact, and then she set it aside. She didn't allow herself to feel it. She couldn't afford to let herself feel it now. She was working.
"Where the hell are we now?" Forrest said, as he leaned out the passenger side window of the jeep, aiming his heat sensor into the darkness.
"Glendale, somewhere," Faith said, as she drove the car down the moonlit, deserted, rubble-choked street, inching along at less than ten miles an hour, weaving her way around rotting corpses. The houses were all burned down in this neighborhood. The air smelled like smoke...but not like vampires. The vampires had been there and gone. The red moon, heading toward the full now, made the corpses look bloody. The festering things laid there like toppled wax statues, frozen in their final agonies, bearing silent witness to the end of a world.
"And how much longer you plannin' on givin' me the cold shoulder for?" Forrest said. He hadn't gotten a reading on the heat sensor in more than a day. The last reading he got was an old man hiding in his basement with a Bible and a shotgun and a bottle of whiskey. They'd had to check to make sure it wasn't Willow, so they broke down his door. By the time Faith confirmed she wasn't picking up Willow's scent in the house, the man had run at them with the shotgun, with the safety still on. He looked like Ronald Reagan, Forrest thought. He even had brill cream in his hair. He stood there in a stained tee-shirt and boxer shorts and black dress socks, with a few days growth of gray beard stubble, sleepless, bloodshot eyes, and whiskey on his breath, aiming the shotgun at them with twitching hands. Faith took the gun away from him, and Forrest explained the situation. Everyone caught their breath. The old man made coffee. They sat around his kitchen table for a couple of minutes, and talked about the end of the world.
The old man's name was William. He mentioned that he had moved there from Chicago a few years before. "Cubs were coming back, they finally got some pitching," he said. "They were set to have a hell of a year next season. I guess God decided to put a stop to that nonsense once and for all." Forrest promised the old man they'd send someone to take him somewhere safe after they found Willow, thanked him for the coffee, showed him where the safety was on the shotgun, and then they left.
"Just hold on," Forrest told the old man, as they left him standing at the door. "Just keep holdin' on."
In the twenty-eight hours that had passed since then, Forrest had seen thousands of dead bodies. But no live ones.
"Don't like people talkin' shit to Becca," Faith said. She kept her eyes straight ahead. Driving at this speed, they were sitting ducks for any vampires or demons that might take a run at them. They'd gotten into a few fights already, running into roving gangs of vampires on the hunt. They didn't get fancy with the vampires. They shot them in the head with their rifles before they could reach the car, then they staked them when they were down, just like Rebecca had told her. They didn't lose their tempers with the vampires, didn't get emotionally involved in the fights. They didn't have time. They killed any vampires who crossed their path, quickly and efficiently. It was pest control. They were exterminators.
Faith didn't smell any vampires now. But she was tired...she could barely keep her eyes open. They had each taken turns sleeping, catching an hour here or there while the other handled the jeep and the heat sensor. Neither of them slept much. In four days, they had each gotten a total of about eight hours sleep. Faith had never felt so exhausted, not even when she was homeless. It made it hard to concentrate on her senses.
She wanted a shower. She hadn't bathed since they started searching. There were plenty of abandoned houses and some of them probably still had running water. But they couldn't waste time...every second was precious. Even with one-hundred and eight teams searching with heat sensors, there was simply no way to cover all the ground they needed to cover before December third. They needed to get lucky.
"Shit, girl, said I was sorry," Forrest said. "Let me out the damn doghouse."
"You learn to stop barking, we'll see," Faith said.
"So this Rebecca lady, you and her are real close, huh? She keeps checking on you."
"She's like my mom, she takes care of me. She saved me. Took me off the street, gave me a home. Trained me, taught me how to fight, taught me how to act. How to have pride."
"Reminds me of my uncle Abner," Forrest said. "I was a punk back in the day, after my father took off I got real stupid."
Faith grinned. "You mean you can get even stupider? Wow."
"Stupid but oh so pretty," Forrest said. "Back then I was playin' around with drugs, boostin' cars, runnin' with a bunch of assholes, and I was well on my way to bein' a fuckin' cokehead. Did a stint in juvie hall. Day they let me out, I'm expectin' my mom, and I'm all ready to brush her off and just start right up again with my old crew. Instead Abner's standin' there. He was a real big dude, y'know? Older guy, gray hair, but he kept himself in shape. Used to be an army sergeant, got hurt in Viet Nam, walks with a limp now. Dude's still a hundred-percent hard ass though. He had the army look, shaved head, shoulders back, always like standin' at attention. Real hard eyes. Dude never blinked. So he's lookin' me up and down and frownin' at me and stuff like he wants me to drop and give him twenty and I'm like, what the fuck you lookin' at old man? Then he knocks me on my ass."
"Becca took me to a nice restaurant when she found me. We had cake too."
"Yeah, Abner ain't much for cake. He was like, 'I'm your damned uncle, boy, and you are a fucking little punk bitch. You wanna be a punk forever or do you wanna be a man?'"
"You told him to fuck off, didn't you?"
"I did, in fact. Remember the part about me being stupid. I took a swing at him too. That didn't go over too well either. Turns out my mom called him, he moved up from Georgia just to kick my ass. He drags me home, she's got him livin' in our house. Anytime I tried to act up after that he kicked my ass. Anytime I took off and tried to hang with my crew, he came and got me, kicked my ass and kicked their asses too. Eventually I just said fuck it and stayed in and did my homework and got good grades. He stood over me and made sure my homework got done. Helped me study for tests. He went to every parent-teacher meeting. Weekends, he took me places, spent time with me. He was a mean old bastard but he made something out of me, y'know? Taught me how to be strong. I loved him, he was more like a father to me than my Dad ever was. Don't even know if he's alive now."
Faith turned the corner. Five dead bodies were swinging from a tall redwood tree, impaled on its upper branches. The bodies were so decomposed they didn't even look human anymore. Their flesh was gray and rotting and hanging off, and bone showed through beneath. Birds had been picking at them. Their eyes had been torn out of their sockets and their noses and lips had been chewed off. Swinging there in the dark with their gray, rotted flesh dangling from their bones in strips, they looked like skeletons dressed in moth-eaten old rags.
"He's alive," Faith said, as they passed the bodies, swaying in the wind.
"Yeah?" Forrest said. "How you know?"
"Because we have to believe that, Forrest. We have to believe the people we love are alive. We have to. We love them, we owe them that."
Forrest nodded. A block ahead of them, a pack of dogs were fighting over a woman's corpse, tearing it to pieces in the street.
"You think Willow's still alive?" Forrest said. "You heard what your witch pal said. She can't do any more locator spells. No way to tell if Willow's alive anymore."
"She's alive," Faith said. "We have to believe she's alive."
It all happened so quickly. Willow had awakened to sounds of gunfire coming from outside the closet. She had heard Faith, screaming her name.
The door tore away from its hinges, and the closet filled with light. Faith was standing there, with tears in her eyes.
"Oh, God," Faith whispered.
Willow cried, when she saw her.
Faith knelt down, and took Willow in her arms. She pulled her out of the darkness, and carried her back into the light...
"I love you," Faith whispered in her ear, as she wrapped a blanket around her and carried her out of there. "I love you, I love you, Willow..."
"I love you too," Willow whispered...
Willow woke up in the dark, to the smell of piss and vomit.
She was still in the closet.
It was the same dream she always had. It hurt her, the same way it always did. She could hardly sleep in there, but when she did manage to sleep for a few minutes, she always had the same dream...of Faith, saving her. She wondered why it was never Buffy, or Rebecca, or even Angel. It was always Faith.
Willow knew the dream was a lie. No one was ever going to save her. No one would ever be able to find her. She could be hundreds of miles away from Sunnydale. The talisman of Ikonn chained to her neck meant a locator spell wouldn't work. There would be no way for them to find her...in her arrogance, she had doomed the world.
Willow felt tired and dizzy all the time now, but it was still almost impossible to sleep, because of the pain. She had been beaten all over and every part of her was sore. She had lost a tooth. A man wearing a cowboy hat had broken a few of her fingers, and a woman with a mohawk had broken one of her toes. But the constant pain wasn't just because they had beaten her. Her muscles kept cramping up. Sometimes the cramps were so severe that she screamed: sometimes the cramps felt like someone had shoved a knife inside her, and twisted it. Right now her right leg hurt so much it felt like it was on fire. She moved around, trying to find a comfortable position. It took all her energy, just to roll over.
She was thirsty all the time, but now she was hungry too. The hunger pangs had taken time to come, but when they did, they had come with a vengeance. But her thirst was the immediate danger: Willow knew she couldn't survive much longer without water. She hadn't peed for a long time, and when she cried now, tears never came. Her heartbeat felt rapid, and she always gasped when she breathed. Willow knew she was dying...
She looked at the piss bucket. She had been looking at it for what felt like days. It shamed her, that she was tempted to drink it. But she had read somewhere that urine didn't help with dehydration, that it just made it worse. If she didn't get something to drink soon though, Willow thought she might go insane in there...
She remembered Drusilla, in her closet, biting the walls.
Sometimes Willow saw things in the closet...she had visions. She wondered if she had already gone insane. She wondered if she would be biting the walls herself soon.
In the visions, Willow had seen a beautiful man with long, dark hair...but the man scared her for some reason. She had seen Faith, wearing a necklace like Tara's. She had seen Buffy, as a vampire.
And she had seen Drusilla, alive again, talking with a man...Willow couldn't see the man, he had his back turned. He was tall, and he had dark hair, and he wore a long, black coat. Willow couldn't see him clearly, but she heard Drusilla talking.
"So sad," Drusilla had said, and touched the man's cheek. "The fairy gave them all a do-over, but no do-over for you, no, no. You've lost your love, your precious love is with her now."
Then Drusilla leaned in close to the man, and whispered in his ear...
"But I am your true love," Drusilla whispered. "You will sit at the head of all tables, and I will sit by your side: your thorny rose, your bloody, beating heart...your blackbird."
And then they kissed.
Willow shuddered, when she saw it...
Then Willow decided the things she saw in the visions were just dreams, and she didn't let herself think about them anymore.
She had panic attacks, and they were becoming more regular, and lasting longer. She'd had another one, just a little while before. Suddenly she had just started screaming, and banging her head on the closet door, and feeling like she was going to suffocate. She didn't remember what had happened after that. She must have fallen asleep...
The closet door opened. Willow squinted up at the light. It was getting harder to see. Her vision always seemed dim now, blurry. Someone was standing there. It looked like a man.
"I'm William P. Rafferty Jr.," the fat, pasty-faced man with the long, greasy blonde hair said, as he stood there staring down at Willow's naked skin, and she tried to cover herself so he couldn't see. But she could hardly move. Just lifting her arms was exhausting now. She laid there, panting from the exertion.
The fat man was silhouetted in the stockroom's fluorescent lights like some enormous bear standing on its hind legs, his massive stomach sticking out in front of him like an over-inflated balloon, his breasts sagging like a woman's, his forehead dripping with sweat like an overheating radiator, and he smelled like he hadn't showered in weeks. He put an emphasis on "Junior", as if he was inordinately proud of his family name for some reason and wanted to make sure Willow realized it. When Willow looked away from him, and braced herself for whatever pain he was about to inflict, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up on to her knees in front of him. He had an erection.
Willow screamed, as he pulled her head up to his crotch, and looked down into her eyes. But she was dead weight in his hands. She couldn't support her own weight, even on her knees. She sagged in front of him, barely able to hold her eyes open, utterly spent.
"Careful, guy, that ice you're skating on is getting pretty thin," Xander said, his voice drifting in from somewhere behind the fat man.
The smell coming from the man's crotch was foul, like sweat and piss and shit and sex combined. Willow whimpered and tried to turn her head away, but he held her by the neck and made her look at him. His hands were huge. He put both of those hands around Willow's throat, and squeezed.
"Look at me, bitch," he said, grinning at Willow as beads of sweat slid down his forehead. "Always wanted to kill a pretty girl just like this. Bet you want this dick, huh?"
"Remember the deal, William," Xander said. He seemed to be closer now. "You can't kill her. Hurt her, sure. But you can't kill her. No sex either. If you cross the line, boy oh boy will you regret it. Make sure she gets some air."
"It's cool, nigga," William said. "Just gettin' my groove on."
"And I thought I talked goofy," Xander said.
William didn't put all his strength into it at first. He started out slowly as he throttled her, and gradually increased the pressure. Every time Willow tried to turn away, he wrenched her head back to his crotch and his stench assailed her again. The bulge in his jeans was only an inch away from her mouth.
As Willow gasped for air, she instinctively tried to raise her hands to break his grip, but she couldn't move them. Even if she had the strength, the manacles around her wrists were linked by a chain to the manacles around her ankles, so she could only lift her arms so high. Willow cried, without tears, as he squeezed the last of her air from her lungs like he was wringing out a sponge, and the panicky feeling spread through her like a fire burning out of control: she started shaking. But she was limp in his arms, powerless to fight him. Her face turned red. William just smiled, and kept throttling her.
"Can I whip it out? Nigga tell me I can whip it out," William said, glancing back at Xander, as Willow gagged and tried to suck in air, but his grip was too strong. Her face darkened, turning purple now.
"Sure you can, if you're cool with me cutting it off and making you eat it," Xander said. "Give her some air." Willow saw Xander now, standing just a few feet away, watching closely. Supervising. She felt William's grip relax, just a little. She got a little bit of air. But a few seconds later he tightened his grip again. Black spots floated in front of her eyes.
"I won't make her touch me, just, y'know, let me jerk off while I'm choking her," William said, his voice sounding to Willow like it was coming from the other end of a tunnel. Willow made a rattling sound.
"Loosen your grip, now," Xander said. "Let her breathe."
William relaxed his grip again. Willow sucked in air, and started coughing.
"Shit," William said. He still had his hands around Willow's throat, but she could breathe now. She wheezed, hyperventilating, sucking in air in great heaving gasps, and coughing every time she exhaled.
"If I could just come all over this pretty face that would make my whole fucking day," William said. "C'mon man, hook a brother up."
"Gonna have to throw you a 'no'," Xander said. "But hey, points for creativity. You really need to stop saying things like 'nigga' and 'hook a brother up' by the way. You just can't pull it off. Closest you've been to the 'hood is Taco Bell. On many, many occasions, I'm thinking."
"Shit, I'm big-boned, dude. Big-dicked too. How much longer I got?"
"Everyone gets five minutes. You're down to maybe two and a half."
"Gonna make the most of it," William said, and choked Willow awhile longer, holding her head an inch away from his erection the whole time, as Xander stood close by to make sure she didn't asphyxiate. William would bring her to the brink of it, then Xander would make him decrease the pressure. By the end, William had one hand stuck down the front of his jeans and he was breathing in quick gasps. He grunted and closed his eyes suddenly, and spasmed like a volcano about to erupt. Then he sighed. Willow knew he had come in his pants. She screamed, when he finally released her, tossing her away like a crumpled-up beer can. She laid there on the floor, curled up in a ball, shaking and wheezing, and crying hysterically.
"FAITH!" Willow screamed. "FAAAAAAAAAAAAITH! Faith...Faith...Faith..."
"Too bad I couldn't whip it out, babe," William said, and sneered down at her. "You don't got nothin' to eat, right? Bet you would've loved a nice big sausage."
After William lumbered away, Xander crouched over her. Willow was still wheezing, trying to make herself breathe normally, but it felt like she wasn't getting enough air.
Willow didn't look at Xander. She laid on the floor in the closet, curled up in a ball, with her eyes squeezed shut, crying, and trying to breathe, and shaking her head back and forth.
"Faith," Willow whispered. "Faith, Faith, Faith, Faith, Faith..."
"These are the people you want to save?" Xander said.
"Faith," Willow whispered.
"She'll never find you, Will," Xander said. "You're gonna live the rest of your life in this closet, unless you see reason. Unless you see that it's useless to try to save these people. You've met more than a hundred of them now and every single one of them hurt you. They beat you, spit on you, pissed on you. They're already lost. The Goddess abandoned them. Can you blame Her?"
Willow still wouldn't look at him. She laid there, trembling and wheezing and shaking her head.
"You can stop this," Xander said. "Just agree not to pray for them, and I'll let you out of this closet. You can have water, food, a bed. No one will ever hurt you again. Just abandon them. They're animals. Let them die, Will."
"Faith," Willow whispered.
"Or we can do it the hard way," Xander said, and stood up, and walked away.
One of the vampires closed the closet door, and Willow was alone in the dark again.
It had been four days and twenty hours, and Xander didn't know how much longer he could hold out.
Willow would be dead soon, if she didn't get some water. She had taken a turn for the worse over the past day; she seemed delirious now, and she wasn't able to move. She breathed in quick little gasps, but other than that, she laid motionless as a corpse on the floor in the closet. Even her panic attacks had ceased; she didn't have the energy to scream anymore. When she got scared in there now, she suffered in silence. Sometimes she made a little whimpering sound, his vampires had reported, but it was so quiet it was even difficult for them to pick it up. One of the people Xander had sent in had dumped Willow's piss bucket out on her, and Willow hadn't even moved. Xander had checked on her after that, to make sure she was still breathing. She was. But when he talked to her, she muttered things that made no sense, and she didn't even seem to know he was there. Sometimes she seemed to think she was Faith: she couldn't separate Faith's memories from her own anymore. She called him Evan, once. "I miss you, Ev," she had whispered, as she laid face-down in her own piss and vomit, too weak even to raise her head to look at him. "I'm sorry we didn't have more time."
Xander knew he should change to Angelus. Angelus wouldn't allow these concerns to move him, to alter his plans in the slightest. His vampires were tracking the movements of the search parties. Faith was in Glendale, heading this way. Based on her pattern, she would arrive in Pasadena and find the supermarket in three days...on December 3rd. Just in time. But by then Willow would have gone eight days without water...
The smart move was to kill her now. The ceremony he had performed when he captured her had broken the Powers' hold, broken the protection they had given Willow, and the Powers hadn't been able to restore it; the closer the world moved to the last day, to December third, the more powerful Xander became. The Powers couldn't block him anymore. Xander could kill Willow now, any time he wanted to.
The smart move was to kill her. The smart move was to become Angelus, and kill her...
Faith would be there on December third. Xander knew he would have to make a decision before then...if Willow didn't die first. Xander didn't think Willow could hold out until then, especially with her injuries...it would be better to just put her out of her misery now.
Xander sat behind the desk at the customer service counter, watching them all milling around, laughing and chattering on, eating and drinking their fill. They would all be saved; they were happy. Not all of them knew about what was in the closet. The ones who hadn't seen Willow yet, who were still waiting their turn, only knew that they would be told what sacrifice they had to make to ensure their salvation once they were called into the stock room. The ones who had already met Willow had been told not to ruin the surprise for the ones who hadn't seen her yet, but they still told them not to worry, that the sacrifice was easy and painless.
It wasn't painless, Xander thought, as he watched them with hate in his eyes. He was in pain, right now. That was why he had left the stockroom. He couldn't bear seeing her anymore.
But he knew he needed to go back in there. He had to make sure she was okay.
He had won. The world was his. But it didn't feel the way he had thought it would.
He got up, and walked back to the stock room.
The kid was annoying. All he did was talk about TV and movies and comics: Star Trek, Star Wars, who was the best Bond, who was Spider-Man's best girlfriend. But there was no one else to talk to, and besides, the kid had a knack for finding things out. He weaseled his way into other people's conversations and found out things Oz wanted to know. So Oz tolerated him.
But he was annoying. Oz stood there in the stockroom, frowning and waiting his turn to see the girl in the closet, as the kid talked at him, yet again, about the relative merits of Adrian Paul versus Sean Connery. He should've just agreed with him about Paul the first time, Oz thought. Now Andrew was trying to convince him again.
"To me Paul combines the manly man-ness of Connery with--" Andrew started to say.
"Manly man-ness?" Oz said.
"Y'know, Connery was like, all rugged and cool. Paul totally has that toughness, but he also has the suave sophistication of Roger Moore. I really think Paul is the best Bond."
"I can't get past that lame show he did about the guy with the sword."
"Highlander!" Andrew exclaimed, and closed his eyes and smiled, swooning like a girl who had been swept off her feet by a handsome prince. "The epic, ages-spanning tale of one man's immortal quest for love..."
"Uh...yeah," Oz said. "That show. Really didn't like that show."
Andrew was annoying, but he was also something of a chameleon, Oz had noticed: he seemed to adapt to the people around him, changing his demeanor, even his vocabulary, to suit them--or at least, to suit what he thought they wanted him to be. Around the goths, he talked about how much things sucked out there. To a couple of guys with shaved heads and tattoos, he talked about how much fun it was going to be, living in the First's new world and kicking the crap out of weak people. To one Asian guy he found in the cookie aisle, he talked about possible theories for how exactly the sun might have disappeared, as if he thought all Asians must be astrophysicists.
Andrew didn't get out much, Oz thought. He wasn't very observant, either: he seemed to exist in his own little fantasy world, as if he thought life was just a movie happening around him. The guys with the shaved heads had been holding hands, for one thing.
Andrew had started talking to him about music when they met a couple of days before, and he had made Oz promise to teach him guitar. But then Andrew had started talking about Doctor Who and his action figure collection and comic books and whether or not Captain Kirk ever really found true love, and since Andrew seemed to tailor himself to whomever he was with, Oz was beginning to wonder if that meant Andrew thought he was a dork. It was a frightening thought, but Oz set it aside. Xander was talking to one of his vampires, something about an update on search patterns. Oz had no idea what that meant, but Xander seemed to think it was important: he followed the vampire out of the stock room.
"Yeah, I totally think Highlander is overrated," Andrew was saying. "Adrian Paul's all great-looking and buff, but the show is just--"
Someone left the closet, and the line moved. Only Andrew was ahead of Oz now.
Oz thought Andrew was annoying, and Oz found the fact that Andrew may have thought he was a fellow dork to be genuinely disconcerting. But Andrew was definitely useful. His way of finding things out had been a great help. Andrew didn't know what exactly was in the closet, but he had talked to a lot of people, and he had found out just about everything else: thanks to Andrew, Oz knew that Xander was actually the First, a creature who couldn't touch anything, but who was somehow in control of all the vampires and demons in the world. He also knew that Xander usually stood by the closet while people were in there, and that when he wasn't there, a vampire was always close by. He knew that people were never told what exactly was in the closet until they were about to be sent in there to see it.
But Oz knew what was in the closet. Xander had made the mistake of telling him, five days before...
Well, I'm trying to destroy the human race so I can start civilization over again and I just captured the one girl in the whole world who can maybe save everyone, Xander had said. I have her locked in a closet in the stockroom.
"It's a good time," one of them, a fat, smelly guy with long blonde hair, had told Andrew. "I got a lot of my aggression out. Got to do something I always sorta fantasized about. It was like, completely therapeutic."
The people going into the closet weren't being searched before they entered, Oz noticed, as he stared across the room, watching. He had assumed they wouldn't be: no one was supposed to know what they would find in there. None of them were supposed to know there was a person in there, so there was no reason for anyone to try to bring anything in there with them...
Oz had some things with him. He'd been holding them under his coat ever since he found out that Xander was sending people into the closet. He didn't know if they would help...but he thought if he was locked in a closet for five days, he might want them.
Xander was gone now. With some luck, Oz could get to the girl before Xander came back.
The only problem was the vampire standing guard outside the closet door. He talked to each person for a moment before he sent them in, but then he waited close by.
Oz had met a few vampires in his travels. But these vampires were different, he had never seen anything like them. They were more savage, more bestial, more like werewolves than vampires. They looked tougher than regular vampires. But they looked stupider too.
Every time someone left the closet, the vampire standing guard there always waited about ten minutes or so, then came back to the line and brought someone else to the closet. But the closet door was always kept open a little, so Xander or the vampire could see what you were doing in there.
When his turn came, Oz needed the vampire not to notice what he did in there.
The vampire was stupid. And Andrew thought everything was a movie.
"So we're buds, right?" Oz said.
"Totally buds," Andrew said, and hugged him. Oz sighed, and plowed on.
"Okay so, I need you to do me a favor...actually a couple favors," Oz said. "Y'know, favors between buds."
"Shoot, mi amigo," Andrew said. "Mi casa is totally su casa."
Oz leaned forward, and whispered in Andrew's ear. He knew vampires had great hearing.
"I want to cut ahead of you in line," Oz whispered. "And once I get up there, I need you to create a diversion. And we have to whisper, because vampires have great hearing."
"A diversion?" Andrew whispered, his eyes lighting up. "But why?"
"I want some privacy when I'm in there. I don't want that vampire dude standing around. Can I cut you?"
Andrew nodded. They switched places. Andrew hung on to Oz's shoulder while they did.
"Why don't you want the vampire there?" Andrew whispered. "Wait. Did you hear something about what's in there? No one will tell me."
"I know what's in there. Can you keep a secret?"
Andrew made a closing up his mouth and throwing away the key motion with his hand, and clamped his lips shut tight.
"What's in there is whatever your greatest wish is," Oz whispered. "That's what the closet is. Whatever you want, it appears in there. But just for five minutes, then you have to be willing to let it go for the First. That's the sacrifice. Now, me personally, I'm wishing for the most beautiful girl in the world. So, y'know..." He grinned conspiratorially, and poked Andrew in the ribs with his elbow, two guys talking about conquests. "I want some special private time with the girl. We're both guys, you understand, right? Don't want that vamp dude cramping my style. Buds help each other out, right? You got my back here?"
"Totally got your back. And I'm gonna totally wish for a hot babe too. I'm thinking Winona Ryder. So let's see...a diversion...but...will we get in trouble?"
"Why would we get in trouble? I'm not doing anything against the rules, I just don't want the dude standin' around. Just find a way to get him out of there for a few minutes. You said you can do some magic, right?"
"Yeah...I can summon demons, and I'm good with animals...y'know, this is kinda like that episode of Star Trek, the one where they're all on like this gangster planet? Kirk and Spock and McCoy just spent that whole episode getting captured over and over again and coming up with diversions to escape. Captain Kirk invented this card game called Fizbin and then he--"
The vampire was coming. It was Oz's turn.
"Surprise me, dude," Oz whispered. "Make it memorable. And watch this for me." He took his guitar off his back, handed it to Andrew, and walked away from him.
"I'll guard it with my life!" Andrew called after him.
Oz stood in front of the closet, with the vampire.
He was pretty sure Andrew would screw this up, because Andrew was stupid and he seemed like he screwed a lot of things up. But Oz decided he would just have to trust to his luck. Maybe someone up there was watching over him. There was a first time for everything.
For all he knew none of this mattered anyway. It wasn't like he could help the girl escape. There were dozens of vampires milling around the supermarket, and even if he could somehow get past them with the girl, which was impossible, there was nowhere to go out there anyway. But for some reason, Oz thought this was important.
"There is a girl in the closet," the vampire said. "She is innocent. She has hurt no one."
Oz did his best to look surprised. He wasn't really very good at looking surprised, even when he actually was surprised. At best he looked a little less unflappable than usual.
"Okay," Oz said.
"You have a choice to make," the vampire said. "If you go in there and hurt that girl, you will have our protection. If you will not, then you must leave."
Being naturally unflappable was helping right now. Oz choked down his outrage. Every one of them...all those laughing people out there...people he had talked to, joked with, whiled away the time with, for five days now...they had all hurt her.
None of them had chosen to leave. Oz hadn't seen a single person leave the supermarket since he had arrived there. They had all chosen to hurt her.
"Uh-huh," Oz said.
"You will be given five minutes with her," the vampire said. "You can use all of the allotted time, or not. You can make her suffer any way you want to, but there are three rules: you can't try to kill her, you can't do anything sexual to her, and you may not hit her in the head. Try to break one of the rules, and we'll know, instantly. And then we'll kill you. We'll torture you first, slowly and quite painfully."
"Ouch," Oz said.
He wondered if he would be killed. If the diversion didn't work, would he be killed?
Was this worth risking his life for?
"You may beat her," the vampire said. "One blow will suffice, or you may beat her for as long as you like up to five minutes, as long as you don't touch her head. If you haven't the stomach to beat her, you may spit upon her, or even piss on her. Some people have bitten her, some have throttled her, some have pulled hairs from her head. The First will reward whoever he judges to be the most creative in inflicting suffering upon her. If you throttle her, you must be certain she can breathe. Remember, I will be watching. Hurt her, and you are guaranteed a place in our new world. Refuse to hurt her, and you must leave here, now. We will not kill you. The First wants to be certain you understand that. If you refuse to hurt her, you will not be killed, but you will be sent back out there, no worse off than you were, to fend for yourself. Maybe you'll survive out there. But if you hurt her, you will definitely survive, with us. Choose."
"Surviving sounds good to me," Oz said. "Let's do this."
"Tell her your name, when you enter," the vampire said, and opened the closet door.
The stench was the first thing Oz noticed: it rushed out and slammed into him like he had run into a brick wall. It smelled like piss and sweat and vomit in there.
It was dark. Oz leaned forward. He couldn't see anything at first...
And that's when the flying monkey appeared.
It looked exactly like the monkeys from The Wizard of Oz, except it had huge fangs and long, razor-sharp talons. It shrieked as it dive-bombed out of the shadows near the ceiling of the stockroom, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, racing straight down toward the vampire like a kamikaze pilot, slashing at him with its talons as it swept past, taking chunks out of the vampire's flesh. The vampire roared and sprang after it as it swooped away, toward the other end of the stockroom...
"Okay, that was actually pretty memorable," Oz said, and stepped into the closet as people started screaming, and shut the door most of the way, leaving it open just a crack so he could have some light.
It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust.
Then he saw her.
The girl was naked, lying curled up in a ball, unmoving. She was in chains. She was lying in piss, and vomit.
Oz couldn't see her very well in the dark, and he didn't recognize her. He had no idea who the girl was. But he burst into tears, when he saw her.
"How could they do this?" Oz whispered.
The girl's eyes were open, and she was looking down at the floor. Oz wasn't sure if she was even alive. According to the vampire, she was...
"Hey," Oz whispered, and knelt down beside the girl, in the dark, and took out the things he had brought...two sixteen-ounce bottles of spring water.
He had wanted to bring food too, but the vampires would have smelled it.
The girl didn't move. But she was breathing. Oz saw her chest moving now. She was breathing in little gasps.
He touched her shoulder. She didn't seem to have the strength to move.
"I brought water," Oz whispered. "I'll hold it for you, okay? You drink."
The girl's head moved about an inch. Oz propped her up, and held the bottle to her cracked, bloody lips.
The water dribbled down her chin. She didn't seem able to swallow it, at first. She coughed it up.
He held the bottle so she wasn't getting so much water, so quickly. Slowly, she started swallowing it.
Outside, people were still screaming. The monkey was doing its job. Andrew was less dumb than Oz had thought. He was still annoying though. Oz refused to countenance the idea that someone could think he liked Doctor Who.
The girl swallowed the water, in little sips. Oz kept his arm around her, and propped her up. Her body was covered with bruises and open sores, and dried-up piss. She was as pale as a ghost, and she looked emaciated. Her nose and lips were covered with dried-up blood. Some of her fingers were bent all the way back.
After she drank about half the bottle, she started coughing the water up again. Oz took the bottle from her lips.
"Thank...you..." the girl whispered.
Oz nodded. He was still crying.
"You need more," he said.
"Sick," the girl whispered. "Can't...pukey."
"I'm Oz, by the way," Oz whispered.
The girl smiled. "Willow," she whispered.
"Wait...Willow? I met a girl named Willow once."
It was her, Oz realized. The girl he had met the year before, and wished he'd had the courage to ask out...Willow. Willow Rosenberg. He had never forgotten her name.
He had been right without realizing it, when he described the closet to Andrew. You really did get your wish in here...
He really had just met the most beautiful girl in the world. When Willow smiled, she was the most beautiful girl in the world.
Willow smiled.
"Oz," she whispered, and touched his cheek with a trembling hand, and wiped one of his tears away. "Cute...wolf guy...awesome hair."
"That's me," Oz whispered. "Try some more water. I don't know how much more time we have."
Willow nodded, and Oz held the bottle to her lips again. She drank, taking little sips. She was able to take about another quarter of the bottle, before she started coughing it up again.
"I remember you have that friend who's really strong," Oz whispered. "Bet she'll be looking for you. Got a number I can reach her at?"
"It's...8-0-5..." Willow began...
And then Willow's smile disappeared, replaced by an expression of terror, as she looked up at something behind him...
Oz turned, and saw Xander, and the vampire. The vampire was holding a headless winged monkey, and he looked annoyed.
"Time's up," Xander said.
Annabelle had found a kitten.
It had wandered into the mansion somehow, and it had black fur with white paws, and so Annabelle had named it Socks. Tara and Annabelle had played with the kitten for most of the day. Taking care of the kitten made Annabelle happy.
Tara was sorry the kitten would have to die. But there were no other suitable animals around, and she didn't have time to look for one.
She would need a sacrifice, for the spell she was about to cast.
It had been almost five days. No one had found Willow, and Tara was sure no one ever would. Athena had refused her. Tara had no magic that could locate Willow, and her mind-reading ability wasn't anywhere near powerful enough to sense her at a great distance. Tara had tried anyway. She had tried for days, focusing her thoughts, reaching out...and finding nothing.
There was nothing else Tara could do.
Nothing except this.
It would take more power than any spell she had ever tried...Tara wasn't sure if she was strong enough. She had spent the entire day resting up for this. As Annabelle had played with the kitten, fed it and taught it tricks and curled up asleep with it in her arms, Tara had been saving her energy, in preparation for this spell, and getting ready to kill it.
She dispelled the Willow glamour. She would need all her energy for this spell, every last drop of it.
She had left Annabelle with Cordelia, and taken the kitten. When Cordelia asked her why she wanted the kitten, she had made up something about communing with animal spirits. Tara was a mind-reader. It made her an excellent liar when she needed to be. Later, she'd come up with a lie to tell Annabelle about why the kitten was gone.
Tara knelt naked on the ground in the courtyard, naked except for the necklace she always wore, with the kitten in one hand, and a dagger in the other. She shivered, because it was cold....but not just because it was cold.
The kitten didn't like it out there in the cold. It made a mewling sound. Tara ignored it.
"Loki," Tara whispered. "Accept my sacrifice, and grant my plea...oh God of Lies, appear to me."
Its blood gushed out over Tara's fingers, steaming in the cold. It was thick and warm, like hot fudge.
As the innocent blood ran over her fingers, Tara felt energy, coalescing around her. It increased the temperature of the courtyard for a little space around her body. It was like sitting in an oven. But Tara had expected this...it meant the spell had worked. She waited.
Tara had never killed anything before. She had never even killed a bug. Whenever she found spiders in her apartment, she always trapped them in a glass, careful not to hurt them, and then tossed them gently out the window, onto the lawn. She was surprised, that it was so easy to kill something. She was surprised, that it didn't seem to stir anything in her. She didn't feel sad, or shocked, or depressed. She felt nothing. She felt exactly the same as she had felt for days now...numb.
But the magical energy released by the spell felt like static electricity now...like a thousand tiny fingers caressing her skin. Tara felt hot, like she was burning up...she felt her hairs standing on end...
Then the energy disappeared. Tara felt cold again. The kitten disappeared, in a flash of black light. But its blood remained.
"Now this is a rare and precious find," a beautiful, mocking voice said.
Tara looked up, and saw him.
He was a beautiful, raven-haired man, with bright green eyes and a cruel smile.
Tara remained there, on her knees. A chill went through her, when she looked into his eyes. He approached her. Tara cast her eyes down to the ground.
"L-Loki, I w-welcome you," she whispered. "I would ask, ask of you...a boon."
The god stood before her now, in a silk tunic and trousers, leather boots, and a silver, jewel-encrusted diadem crown. He wore a cloak that seemed to be made of some sort of feathers. His green eyes held Tara down like a butterfly with a pin stuck through her.
"I've had my eye on you, Tara Maclay, as you well know," Loki said. "Aye, for years now, you have been in my thoughts. Why, I brood upon you so often, I could write sonnets singing your praises." He laughed. "But I did not think you cared a fig for poor, neglected Loki. When I would come to you, singing at your window under the moon, you always bade me leave. Like some homely old cow, Loki was left to fret the long nights away, heartbroken and alone."
The contrast was amazing, Tara thought. He scared her--she felt the dread of him in her very bones--but his voice was like music. His voice made her heart soar.
"Do you speak, girl? You have not suddenly been struck mute? I must warn you, I can become quite dangerous when I'm bored, or so I have been told. Why have you called me here? What boon do you seek? And what are you willing to give Loki in return?"
"There's...there's a girl, sh-she's lost and--"
"Look at me. This simpering pose of yours grows tiresome. We both know you have more steel than this. If you did not, you would never have caught my eye. Millions of would-be sorcerers throughout the realms have desired Loki's patronage, while only a relative handful even merited an audience with me. I am quite discerning in my affections. Loki is no whore."
Tara looked up into his eyes. She felt them, slicing into her...she felt like an animal on a dissection table.
"A girl is lost, you say. And you would have Loki find her?"
"Yeah. She...she m-m-might...die."
Loki grabbed Tara by the hair. She winced.
"And if Loki saves her, what does he get in return, hmm?"
"Anything," Tara whispered.
Loki yanked Tara to her feet, and roughly kissed her. She instinctively tried to pull away. He held her there. After a few seconds, she stopped struggling. She knew she would have to get used to this...soon, it would be her life.
When Loki was finished with her, he threw her back down upon her knees.
"You know what I want, my dove," Loki said, and smiled down at her. "Your soul is so pure, so perfect...to possess you would be like caging the sunrise. Aye, long have I desired it. To sully that pure white...to take you into my darkness, and stain you forever. One drop of black can change an ocean of white, Tara Maclay. A single cloud can mar the sunrise."
He caressed her hair, now. Tara blushed.
"Who is this girl you would have me find?"
"Her n-n-name is...Willow. Willow Rosenberg."
Loki smiled. "I've not met her. But I've had my eye on her, as well. She is not so pure as you. You are white, but she is gray: gray as a winter morning. But she interests me. I will find her for you. Whatever travails she is now faced with, whatever enemies hem her 'round, I will see her through them. That is my word...if you agree to my terms."
An iron collar appeared in Loki's left hand.
Tears filled Tara's eyes, when she saw the collar. She had known it was coming, but that made the moment no less difficult now.
"You lived in the morning, under the sun, a dove flitting through the heavens without a care," Loki said. "But now thou shalt come away with me, and live in the night, under the moon. I will show you such sights...teach you such wonderful, secret things...you will come to love the moon, Tara. A time comes when childhood ends, and childish things must be cast aside, and we must assume the mantle of responsibility. We must take up our burdens, and find our way, and become ourselves. The girl shall become a woman. And the dove shall become a raven."
He held up the collar.
"You showed foresight, in coming to me now. Midgard is besieged, and I can see no way to save it. Indeed, my father will not even permit us to try. I do not know why he holds us back, but whatever his reasons, Odin cannot be gainsaid. I took a great risk, even coming here for a short while. But you are worth the risk. If Midgard is to perish, I would not have you perish along with it. I will take you away to Asgard, where you cannot be harmed. Willow can come as well, if she likes. But first you must choose me, Tara. You must choose willingly." He smiled again. "I shall not always be a brute. I shall not always be so ill-mannered. I can be gentle, too. And I can take other forms...more comely forms."
Loki changed: he became a woman.
She was beautiful...she was just as beautiful as Athena, Tara thought. The moon to Athena's sun.
Loki let go of Tara's hair, and caressed Tara's cheek.
"Is this form more to your liking, my dove?" she whispered. Her voice was like a caress. Tara felt it on her skin, in her heart. It made her nipples hard.
"You're...you're...really pretty," Tara said, and blushed, and covered her breasts.
"I shall teach you lovemaking too, Tara," Loki said, and leaned over, and gently raised Tara's chin, so she could look into her eyes. "Being my slave is not so frightening a prospect as you think...at least, not for one as special as you. I will never hurt you, Tara. Nay, I shall only treasure you."
Tara nodded. Tears ran down her cheeks.
She knew Loki was a liar. And even if Loki wasn't lying, even if everything she was saying was true, even if Loki never hurt a hair on her head...Loki could. Loki could do anything she wanted to do to Tara, once Tara accepted that collar...
But Tara knew she had no choice. It was the only way to save Willow...the only way to save the world...
"Hear now my terms, Tara Maclay," Loki said. "I shall weld this collar around your neck, and it may never be removed so long as you live. And you shall swear oaths of fealty to me, in this life and the next, and you shall be my slave forever. In return, I will save Willow as you ask, and grant you some of my power. Will you sacrifice yourself to me, forever, in this life and the next, for all eternity? Wilt thou accept my collar around your--"
A sword burst through Loki's chest, swift and bright as a bolt of lightning, skewering her like a pig on a spit. She trembled, and coughed up blood, as the sword lifted her into the air.
When Tara looked up, Athena was standing there.
Athena raised her sword high above her head, and Loki was stuck there, impaled upon it, kicking and flailing her arms and legs like a fly stuck on flypaper, spurting blood from a gaping hole in her chest. Athena held the sword aloft with one hand, and if it was any great effort for her to hold Loki impaled above her head thus, she didn't show it; Athena might have been changing a light bulb, for all the strain that showed in her strong right arm.
"I think she will not," Athena said.
Athena whirled her arm around like she was twirling a lasso, and then flung her sword forward. Loki sailed through the courtyard, smashed into the mansion, and put a hole through the granite and concrete wall.
Loki coughed up blood, and clutched at her chest, as she crawled back out of the rubble. Crying now, Tara looked up at Athena. Athena stood guard in front of her, and watched Loki, her bright sword ready, her terrible shield raised, poised for battle. Tara covered her breasts, and blushed through her tears.
"Athena," Loki murmured, still coughing, but managing a smile too. She got herself to her feet, and held on to the partially collapsed outer wall of the mansion for support. "You interfere...in matters which are not your concern."
"Tara Maclay is my concern, trickster god," Athena said. "You will not have her."
As Tara watched, Loki's wound began to heal. Tara saw waves of power emanating from Loki's left hand, as she held it clutched over the wound. Within seconds, the wound had stopped bleeding. Seconds after that, it closed. Loki straightened up.
"Indeed?" Loki said, and raised her right hand. "And you believe that is for you to decide? The girl came to me."
"You will not have her," Athena said. "Leave, snake, or I'll kill you."
Black sparks leapt and crackled about Loki's right hand...
Four things happened in succession then, in a single second. They happened much, much faster than Tara's eyes, or any human eyes, could ever hope to follow.
Loki spoke. "You--" she began to say.
Athena stuck her sword in the ground. It cleaved the solid granite like tissue paper.
"--think--"
A spear appeared in Athena's hand, in a burst of golden light.
"--you--"
Athena hefted her spear and threw it with such force that it streaked through the dark like a silver rocket.
"--canAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!!!!!!" Loki screamed, as the spear's razor-sharp point sliced straight through her stomach. The spear's shaft bored through her like a drill and buried itself deep in the granite and concrete wall behind her. Loki hung there, quivering.
Athena pulled her sword from the ground, and marched over to Loki.
"I...warn you, cunt..." Loki murmured, her mouth filling with blood. "You...do not want... Loki...for an enemy."
Athena grabbed Loki by the hair, and held her sword to her throat.
"Then I suppose I should behead you now and get it over with," Athena said.
"You are...inviting...deadly consequences..." Loki murmured, wincing with pain as she squirmed upon the spear. "A war...between houses..."
Athena smiled.
"Are you going to call your brother down from the sky?" Athena said. "I hear he fights your battles for you. Call him then! I do not fear him either. At least he might give me a fight. Any Spartan boy could give a better account of himself against me than you have, sorcerer."
Loki tried to raise her right hand. Athena hacked it off with her sword before Tara had even seen her move. Loki shrieked.
Tara saw Cordelia standing in the mansion's doorway, with Annabelle hiding behind her.
"Disappear back to Asgard and lick your wounds, coward," Athena said. "Go now, or by Zeus I will kill you, consequences be damned."
Loki chuckled, pale and trembling and coughing up blood, as she writhed upon Athena's spear, and cradled the stump of her right arm.
"I see...this was all...a misunderstanding," Loki whispered. "I had no idea...that you had already claimed the girl. Never...met a man...with a big enough spear, eh, Athena?"
"You were always a dirty pig, Loki, no matter your shape," Athena growled. "Never visit this girl again, whether she asks you or not. Or so help me, you will learn that Thor, Odin and all the warriors in Valhalla besides aren't enough to save your miserable skin when I come looking for you, and all the cosmos is too small a hiding place. Leave my sight. Or stay and die."
Loki looked into Athena's eyes, and smiled.
"I leave this...dainty morsel to you," Loki whispered. "Take her to your bed...give her your spear! But you and I...will meet again, Athena. And on that day, you will learn...manners."
Loki disappeared, in a flash of black light.
Tara knelt naked in the cold, hugging herself, and shivering. Athena looked down at her. Tara couldn't meet her eyes.
"You're cold," Athena said.
Athena took off her robe, and wrapped it around Tara. She knelt beside her, and touched her cheek.
"Is that better?" Athena said.
Tara nodded, and cried.
"I'm sorry," Tara whispered.
"Love drives us to desperate acts," Athena said. "For love, you would have allowed a god to enslave you. For love, I would have killed one."
Tara looked up at her.
"Loki is a viper," Athena said. "A viper with a honeyed, forked tongue. It is not wisdom, to trust such a one. Trust me, instead. I'll always watch over you."
"It's just..." Tara said, and tried to wipe her tears away, tried to stop crying. She felt like a child. It was embarrassing, kneeling on the ground, naked and crying in front of Athena. Athena was always so strong, and Tara always wanted to be strong for her. "It's just that, that I didn't know what else to do, and...and..."
Athena kissed Tara's forehead.
"I will find her," Athena said.
"You...you will?" Tara whispered.
"I said you were being tested. That the deeds you mortals perform in these last days, the blood you spill, the sacrifices you make for love, these are the things that will write the ending to the story. You have been tested, Tara, and you have passed the test. I cannot refuse to aid you, even though it may be folly, while you were willing to make so great a sacrifice for your love. It would shame me. And it would break my heart. So I will find her for you. But you must understand, things will change now. They have already changed...now they will change even more. The story is being...altered. For better or worse, it will be a different story now."
"What...do you mean? Different how?"
Athena smiled again, and took Tara's hand.
"Do not concern yourself," she said. "Nothing can happen out of Her hand."
After they dragged Oz away from Willow, two vampires threw him in a van, drove him to the other side of town, and kicked him into the street in front of a Starbucks.
"Why here?" Oz had said, as he dusted himself off and got up, and they flung his guitar at him. "You worried I'll go into caffeine withdrawal if I can't have my espresso?"
"Three miles away," one of the vampires said. "This is your head-start. You should be far from here tomorrow, if you wish to go on living." Then they drove away.
Oz sat down on the curb in front of the Starbucks for awhile after that, and thought about things. He decided, first of all, that he wanted to save Willow. But, secondly, he had no idea how to do that.
He went into the Starbucks. The fires hadn't reached it, and this street still had electricity.
The espresso machine was working. Oz made himself one, drank it, and made himself another. It was nice in there, without the annoying music. Then he came back outside, and sat back down on the curb again, and sipped his espresso, and looked around for cars. Some had survived the fires. He had no idea how to hotwire a car. He had seen it in movies though...
If he could make it back to Sunnydale, maybe he could find Willow's friend, the girl with the ridiculous name he couldn't quite remember. But Willow's friend was probably looking for Willow already. Willow's friend might not even be in Sunnydale. What he needed to do was remember Willow's friend's name, so he could find her number in a phone book, and call her. Assuming the phones worked. Assuming she was in. She probably wasn't in. But maybe she had an answering machine. If the electricity was still working in Sunnydale...if she was checking her messages...
"Okay, I'm not Sean Connery," Oz said. "I'm not even Roger Moore."
He looked down at his guitar. It was a great guitar. He always loved playing it. He didn't feel like playing now. He didn't have a song in his heart.
He looked up, and saw the second most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon walking across the street toward him.
The strange thing was, she hadn't been there a second before. It was as if she had appeared from out of nowhere.
The other strange thing was, she was dressed in some kind of armor: a helmet, breastplate, greaves and a skirt, and she carried a sword and a shield. The shield was round, metallic, more than four feet in diameter, and it looked as if it could protect the woman's entire body from her shoulders to her knees. She held it to her side now, as if she wasn't expecting to fight, and her sword was buckled around her waist in a scabbard. Her helmet was a fearsome thing with a nose guard and long, angled cheek pieces that swept so far forward that the helmet would have covered nearly her entire face, but she wore it propped up on top of her head.
It was good, Oz thought, as he watched her march straight toward him, her long, golden hair flowing in that black night like shafts of sunlight peeking through the clouds, that the woman didn't seem to be expecting to fight. He was certain that Sean Connery couldn't take her. He was pretty certain a tank division couldn't take her either.
"Uh...hi," Oz said, and stood up, as she approached him.
She stood in front of him, towering over him. Her giant metal shield was decorated with a painting of some sort of winged female monster with long fangs, but the monster on the shield wasn't as scary to Oz right then as the woman holding the shield. He focused on being unflappable. This moment was a severe test of his unflappability. For her part, the giant, beautiful woman looked at Oz as if he were some strange new species of marmoset that no one had ever before encountered.
"How come you have a monster on your shield?" Oz said.
"It is a Gorgon," the woman said. "A most terrible creature, who could turn men to stone with but a glance. I slew her. Afterwards, Hephaestus made this shield for me. It is proof against any weapon, or any magic."
"Uh-huh. Well...that's pretty cool, I guess."
The woman was looking at his guitar.
"What is that?" she said, pointing at it. "Is it a musical instrument? It looks somewhat like a kithara."
"Uh...yeah. It's a guitar. It's proof against heavy metal and rap music. I'm Oz, by the way."
The woman looked into his eyes. Oz decided it was probably what being struck by lightning felt like. Her eyes were steely blue, like a winter sky.
"I am Athena," the woman said. "You are a minstrel, then?"
"Yeah," Oz said. "That's me. Professional minstrel."
"Why are you here, alone?"
"Met a girl I really like, and she's in trouble. I want to help her, but I can't figure out how. There's like sixty vampires to get through. Guess I'm kinda moping. Are you the Greek god Athena? Normally I wouldn't ask, but things are just strange enough right now that I'm willing to believe I can talk to a Greek god outside a Starbucks in Pasadena."
"I am Athena. This girl you met. Do you care for her?"
Oz thought about it. Athena looked him in the eyes. She hadn't blinked since she arrived. Maybe she didn't ever blink, Oz thought. He blinked.
"They've got her locked in a closet," Oz said. "She's been there for five days. They're not giving her anything to eat or drink and they're hitting her. They're spitting on her and...and peeing on her. I'd trade places with her if they'd let me."
Athena nodded.
Then she pointed at his guitar again.
"Play," she said.
Andrew stood in the closet, looking down at the girl.
This wasn't what he had wished for. He had wished for Adrian Paul in a conquistador outfit. Then the vampire had told him how this was really going to work.
The vampire told him that he could hurt this innocent girl, and live...or refuse, and go back out there. Back out into the dark...back to being hungry...back to being hunted...back to being alone.
The closet smelled like piss and vomit. Andrew could hardly tolerate the stench. The girl seemed barely alive. She laid naked on the floor, in chains. She was covered with bruises. She had been beaten. For days...
"I'm Andrew Wells," Andrew said. The vampire had told him to announce his name.
The girl didn't look at him. Andrew wasn't sure she was strong enough to move.
He thought about Return of the Jedi. In Return of the Jedi, Darth Vader had to watch as the Emperor tried to kill Luke, but at the last moment, Vader turned on the Emperor and saved Luke's life, at the cost of his own. Vader lost his life, but he regained his soul. Andrew wondered if he was willing to die to keep his soul. It looked easy in the movies.
He thought about what Captain Kirk would do. Whenever he found himself in a tight spot, he always thought about what Captain Kirk would do. But that just made it worse now, because Andrew knew what Captain Kirk would do...he would do the right thing. He always did.
Captain Kirk always won at the end of the story. He always found a way out of a bad situation, because there had to be another episode next week. Captain Kirk always won...but in real life, sometimes you lost.
There wasn't going to be another episode next week. The world was ending. The human race was doomed. Andrew could be one of the survivors, or not. That was the choice before him.
"Star Trek II," Andrew whispered. "The Kobayashi Maru. The ultimate no-win scenario. How we deal with death is at least as important as how we deal with life."
Andrew knew that The Kobayashi Maru was a simulated command training exercise for Starfleet cadets, in which they were confronted with an unwinnable situation. He knew that it wasn't a test of ability, as the objective couldn't possibly be achieved. It was a test of character. How did you deal with a no-win scenario? Did you take the Enterprise into the Neutral Zone in direct violation of the treaty, try to save the stranded cargo vessel, and get blasted to smithereens by a fleet of Klingon battle cruisers? Or did you stay on the Federation side of the border, let the crew of the cargo vessel die, and live to fight another day?
Andrew knew that Captain Kirk was the only cadet in the history of Starfleet who had beaten the Kobayashi Maru no-win scenario. Kirk had reprogrammed the computer so it was possible to defeat the Klingon ships and rescue the cargo vessel. He had gotten a commendation for original thinking.
But Andrew wasn't Captain Kirk. And there was no way to win here.
If he didn't hurt this girl, he'd be sent back out there, and Andrew knew he'd die out there eventually, and that was just that.
"I've never faced this situation," Andrew whispered, quoting from the movie. "Faced death."
Usually, reciting lines from movies made him feel better. Usually, pretending made him feel better. Now it just made him feel like a child.
Andrew knew he needed to decide, right now. He couldn't be Captain Kirk, or Luke Skywalker, or Batman or Aragorn or Indiana Jones or James Bond when he decided. He had to be Andrew Wells.
He hated being Andrew Wells. He hated this girl, for making him have to do it.
In that moment, in that place--the closet, that smelled like piss and vomit, in the stockroom in the supermarket in Pasadena, California--Andrew knew he had crossed a line. He had just grown up, whether he liked it or not, whether he wanted it or not. He hadn't been given time to prepare. It had just been thrust upon him. There wasn't time to pretend anymore...he couldn't play at being a hero anymore. He could only be Andrew, from now on.
And Andrew knew that Andrew was a weak, pathetic coward.
He kicked Willow in the stomach.
The boy played his strange instrument. He played it like a lyre, but it didn't sound like a lyre: the boy's instrument made a most disagreeable grating noise, to Athena's ears. It sounded like blades being sharpened. But the boy sang while he played, and he had a pleasing voice.
So Athena stood there, waiting, and looking out into the darkness, as the boy sang his song, with tears in his eyes now. It seemed a sad song, to Athena's ears, but hopeful, too. It would have sounded beautiful on a lyre.
Athena knew where Willow was. She could have gone there herself, appeared there in an instant and hacked every single one of the vampires guarding her to pieces.
But some parts of the story couldn't be altered...some things had to happen as they were fated to happen.
Athena felt the story, changing around her. She had already done more than she should, she had already altered the story, pulled it out of shape by imposing her will upon it. She had saved Tara, but Athena knew there was only so far she would be allowed to travel down this path. Athena couldn't save Willow herself...it wouldn't be permitted. She knew that if she tried, she would be stopped, somehow.
Athena knew she couldn't save Willow, because she wasn't the one who was meant to.
Oz sang...
"Well Your faith was strong but you needed proof..."
"You saw her bathing on the roof..."
"Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you..."
Annie Frischmann sat in the van and drank champagne.
She wasn't celebrating. The whole world had gone to bollocks and all of her bandmates were dead and she was stuck there in the van with Francis, their fat, lecherous wanker of a roadie, whose idea of fun at the end of the world was perusing skin magazines, playing with his two-way radio, and engaging in belching contests. There was no one for him to compete against, so he competed against himself. Also, he was Scottish, and Annie usually had only a vague, general notion of what he was saying. She was drinking champagne because it was the only booze they had left at the moment, as they had finished the beer and the wine, and Annie absolutely refused to be sober at the end of the world.
Things had been going so well, just a few weeks before. They had finally finished their demo tape, and three different record labels were interested. They had fired their thieving arsehole of a manager, and started booking their gigs themselves. Their gigs had gotten favorable write-ups from a few influential critics, including the really annoying one who wrote for the Village Voice. "I know it's impolite to put it this way, but sometimes getting laid can really be good for a person," the critic, Robert Christgau, had written after catching their show the month before at the Showbox Club in Seattle. "Annie Frischmann obviously gets laid a lot. Good for her. And good for all of us too, because listening to her new band Trouble is a lot like getting laid. No wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am here either--Trouble isn't just a quickie, they're a good, long fuck, and I need a cigarette. It's too bad your bassist sounds like she's playing with mittens on though, Annie. But don't tell her I said so, because the girl looks like she can beat me up."
They had been preparing for a gig in Los Angeles, when it happened. They were going through their sound check in some hole in the wall club, when people started running around saying the sun had disappeared. Fiona, Christie and Donna had run out to see what all the fuss was about. They never came back.
Annie had looked for them. She and Francis had driven the van around the neighborhood all night. They finally found them a few hours later, stuffed in a dumpster in an alley a few blocks from the club. That was two weeks ago.
Annie had started drinking after that. She had always liked to drink, especially on the road between gigs, but now she couldn't even remember the last time she had been sober. She and Francis spent their time driving around California scavenging supplies, existing from meal to meal. It might have been nice to go home, but there were no planes. There was nowhere to go... so they drove around. They had done their crying. Now, Annie drank, and Francis amused himself. They'd had an argument about him jerking off in the back of the van, but then Annie had just let it go. The world had ended. If the man wanted to jerk off, why not let him, she thought. There wasn't anything better to do, and they'd probably be dead soon anyway.
Francis belched again, louder than before, and changed the channel on his two-way radio. It was extremely illegal and extremely powerful and it picked up police bands, cell phone conversations, any broadcast, really. The van's actual radio didn't work, because the van was a broken-down hunk of shit Francis had borrowed from his uncle and nothing in it really worked, including the air conditioner, the left blinker, the fuel gauge, and, occasionally, reverse. But Francis loved his two-way radio, and that worked. It was just as bad as him. Annie hardly understood a word the thing was saying. No wonder why crime was so out of control in the United States, she thought. The police--at least, that's who Annie assumed she had been listening to--could never understand what the hell they were all saying to each other.
For some reason, all the police chatter coming over the radio the past five days--at least, the few words she could actually pick out--was about search patterns. Team twenty-six wanted to talk to team eighteen about most of grid sixty-two being impassable, team eighty-nine wanted to talk to team one about escorting people back to base, team three wanted to talk to team two about meeting up in Pasadena in three days, team four wanted to talk to teams one-hundred seven and one-hundred eight about heading back to base and picking up supplies because food was running low, and all the teams wanted to talk to all the other teams about search patterns. This grid, that grid, reconnoitering, engaging hostiles...Annie was beginning to feel like she had been drafted.
"That was a good 'un, aye?" Francis said, and patted his fat stomach. "Got some real range on that 'un."
"Francis, one of these days I'm going to toss you off a mountain," Annie said.
Francis laughed. Annie always seemed to amuse him. She scowled at him.
Most people, when she scowled at them, bloody well knew they had just gotten a right good scowling-at and they understood that they should immediately endeavor to piss off. But nothing Annie said or did ever seemed to have any effect on Francis. He smiled right back at her when she scowled, like a fat-cheeked, mutton-chop jowled, yellow-toothed Mona Lisa.
"Aw, aren't ye a lil' love though, Annie Fannie?" he said. "Ye're jus' playin' hard t'get, yew are."
Annie was trying to come up with something really utterly devastatingly bitchy to say to him, when she heard the guitar.
Oz sang.
"Well baby I've been here before..."
"I've seen this room and I've walked this floor..."
"I used to live alone before I knew ya..."
"Hallelujah..."
Athena had changed the story...for better or worse.
In a flash of golden light, she disappeared.
"And remember when I moved in you?" Oz sang.
"And the holy dove was moving too..."
"And every breath we drew was Hallelujah..."
Oz sang.
"Well maybe there's a God above..."
He opened his eyes. Athena was gone, and a beat up old orange and green van was parked at the curb in front of him. It looked a little bit like the van in Scooby Doo, except it had the word Trouble painted on the side.
"Where'd she go?" Oz said, and looked around. There was no sign of Athena now. She had been there a moment before. It was as if she had just...disappeared somehow.
"Where'd 'oo go, eh?" the fat man with the Elvis Presley sideburns driving the van said.
"There was a woman here," Oz said. "Uh...long story."
"Well she's not here now," the woman sitting there scowling beside the fat man said, in a British accent. She was pretty, with ample cleavage and jet-black hair done up in a long pageboy. Oz thought she would have looked prettier if she smiled, but she didn't look like she smiled much. Then again, there wasn't much reason to anymore.
Oz remembered when Willow smiled at him, in the closet. She had been beaten and pissed on, but she smiled.
Was it possible to fall in love with someone you had only met twice?
"So look, you're the first actual living person we've seen in awhile, so we were just wondering if you want to come along with us?" the woman said. "Francis is lousy company, and I like how you play. We've got plenty of food. We're running low on drunkables, but I'm planning on rectifying that."
The man smiled, and said something unintelligible that sounded Scottish. But he seemed to be waving Oz over to the van.
"Yeah," Oz said. "Beats hanging around a Starbucks."
"Fabulous," the woman said, and opened the door. "I'm Annie, and this is Francis. Don't bother trying to understand anything he says."
"Uh...okay," Oz said, and loaded his guitar in the back. There were boxes filled with food and bottled water back there, a pile of skin magazines, and a couple of guitars. The guitars were good guitars. "I'm Oz. You guys in a band?"
"Trouble," Annie said. "We used to be in a band, until the bassist, drummer and keyboard girl got killed and stuffed in a dumpster. Now we're in a van. You don't belch, do you?"
"Nope," Oz said, and sat next to Annie. Francis said something else unintelligible, and held out his hand. Oz shook it. "Hey, right back at ya man," Oz said.
"Fabulous," Annie said, as Francis put the van in gear and they pulled away from the curb with a lurch. "I think we're going to get along famously."
There was some sort of chatter coming from the radio. Voices Oz could just barely make out...saying something about search grids.
"What's that thing?" Oz said. "Police radio?"
"Francis' hobby," Annie said. "You got any grass? I'd kill for some grass."
"Me too," Oz said. "Ran out last week. Between that and the vampires, I'm becoming dangerously stressed out. Uh...you know about vampires?"
"See why I'm so desperate for some good grass?" Annie said. "I suppose we'll just have to muddle through with wine. Francis, find us a liquor store, there's a good fellow."
Francis said something unintelligible. Someone on the radio said, "Willow."
"What the hell?" Oz said. "Turn that up!" He lunged at the radio, looking around madly for the volume button. Turn it up!"
"'Ere now!"
"--Days to find Willow," a girl was saying. "We gotta take chances. We set Angel loose, let him find some vamps, maybe he can find out where she's at. That's how he did it when they had her before."
"Don't think they'll talk to me," a man said. "But I can be persuasive. Worth a shot."
"I agree," a woman said. "It doesn't cost us anything, I can handle the jeep and the sensor myself and keep patrolling our grid while Angel goes off on his own. Even with a hundred and eight teams we can't cover all our territory by the third and for all we know they might have moved her even farther away by now. And if we don't find her in three days, we lose."
"You said the book looked like it was maybe a fake," the girl said. "Maybe December third isn't really the deadline?"
"There were two sets of symbols, and they don't match," the woman said. "If the whole book was faked the symbols would all be the same. I think the book was genuine, but someone added to it. Since we don't know what part of the book was fake and what part wasn't, we have to assume December third is our deadline...we have to assume that if we don't find Willow by then, we've lost. So we have to take chances...and hope someone up there is watching over us."
Oz grabbed Francis' arm.
"I need to talk to those guys, right now," Oz said.
It had been five days, and Rebecca was running out of hope.
She had told Buffy that Willow had to be alive, or else Willow never would be able to travel back in time and save her when she was sixteen. And that was true, for what it was worth. But the apocalypse was here, the world was ending, and that seemed a flimsy argument upon which to pin the hopes of the entire human race. Especially since Rebecca had already died once, and was sent back. There were no rules anymore. Life and death seemed interchangeable now.
As she looked out at the ruined town of Glendale, at the fires still burning in places, at the bodies rotting in the streets, or used as obscene decoration, hanging from trees like Christmas ornaments and propped up on front lawns like scarecrows, Rebecca felt her hope leaving her, like warmth fading away in a winter chill...she felt cold now. She felt it in her bones.
"They're not all numbers to me," Angel said.
"What?" Rebecca said. They hadn't talked. It was the first time he had spoken to her since they had seen the nun, Theresa.
"I've been thinking about what you said. About the reasons I do what I do...how I don't have anything to believe in. How they're all numbers and I'm trying to balance the scales. You've only got it part right."
"And you're telling me this why?"
"No one else to talk to. I'll shut up if you want."
They drove on in silence for a moment. They had been looking for vampires. Once Angel found some he was going to leave the car and start asking questions, and Rebecca would keep searching their assigned grid.
"Go on," Rebecca said. "I've had all the quiet I can take."
"You're right, about how I never really believed in anything," Angel said. "All my life... even back when I was a human being...nothing really appealed to me. The church. Ireland. My family. I never really felt like I was part of anything. I could never connect with anything. I always saw the flaws in all the institutions people gave their loyalty to. Religion never made sense to me, not with what I saw out there every day. People don't love their neighbor and I don't see how any God could create a world like this one. Being patriotic never made sense to me either. Governments don't deserve our loyalty. The kind of people who end up in charge of governments are always the same arrogant assholes. I never felt close to my family. My father always kicked the shit out of me, my mother always gave in to him. I liked my little sister well enough, but by the time she was born I was never home. I spent all my time at bars. I never really got to know her, before I became a vampire. I never loved anyone. Had a lot of women but I never loved any of them. Then I met Darla. Thought I loved her. And Dru."
"Did you?"
"As much as a man without a soul could. When Faith was about to kill me, she told me I didn't love Dru because if I did I would've staked her, freed her from her torment. Maybe she was right. Maybe I can't really love. This thing I do, saving people. It isn't just about alleviating my guilt. It didn't start out that way. It started out because of Buffy. I wanted to help her. I did what I did so she might...be proud of me. So she might think I was worthy of her. But now she's with Faith."
Rebecca looked at him.
"Don't worry, they've got my blessing," Angel said. "I'm not gonna get all jealous and be a stalker, and yeah, I know, you'll kill me the second I even look at Faith funny so how about we skip that part. I always knew I'd have to leave Buffy anyway. She deserves to be in the sun. She's happy with Faith and I'm happy for her. But I built my life around Buffy. It was good for awhile. We saved the world together. And then..."
"You lost your soul."
"And I hurt Willow. I heard you talking to Buffy about it over the radio when she was thinking about killing me with the rifle. Hurting Willow crossed a line. Even more than those little girls, Buffy can't ever forgive me for Willow. Thing is, I can't forgive me either. You're right, that I see a lot of the people I save as numbers. I don't know them and I don't let myself get to know them, because I'm a vampire and what am I gonna do? Hang with them and watch hockey? I'm a vampire. I can't have friends, I can't have relationships. They're numbers to me because I won't let them be anything else. I got a demon in me, I'll always be on the outside looking in with human beings. I'm not a human being. And if I let myself get close to people, I'll just lose them eventually anyway...I'm immortal, and they'll die. I had some friends, in the sixties. They're all dead now. I don't want to go through that again. But I've gotten close to some people here despite myself. Buffy, Willow. Faith. Tara. I feel like...they're my friends, even though they hate me. So I guess what I'm saying is...Willow isn't a number. I want to save her, not to balance the scales. I want to save her because I don't want to see her hurt."
"Hey!" a voice on the radio said. "Are you the guys talking about Willow? Hello? Can anybody hear me? Hello?"
"Who is this?" Faith said, into the radio.
They were still in Glendale, heading east. Faith was driving, and handling the heat sensor at the same time, so Forrest could get some sleep. She had been planning on trying to meet up with Rebecca soon, especially since Rebecca was about to be patrolling alone. They were only about ten minutes away from each other in a straight line, but they were on opposite sides of town and they needed to cover every nook and cranny when they patrolled with the heat sensors. She had been thinking she might be able to meet up with Rebecca sometime later in the day.
Neither Faith or Forrest had really slept. Neither of them had showered in five days either. Faith's uniform felt sticky and itchy and her underwear had kept riding up, until Faith had finally thrown her underwear away the day before. She felt a little better now. But her hair felt greasy, like someone had stuck a wet mop to her head. Forrest had finally broken down and shaved his head the day before. They'd passed a barber shop on a street that still had electricity and he jumped out of the car, found an electric razor, and buzzed all his hair off. He said it felt great. Faith was actually tempted to shave her head too. If they went much longer without sleeping or showering, Faith was pretty sure they'd both end up looking like the crazy desert people from The Road Warrior.
"My name's Oz!"
"Yeah," Faith said. "How do you know that?"
"Listen, I know where Willow is! She's at the Trader Joe's on South Lake View Avenue in Pasadena! The Trader Joe's on South Lake View Avenue!"
"Pasadena," Oz said. "Uh...we're heading down Colorado Boulevard. Uh...we're passing by a Best Western now..."
"Park there and wait for us to find you," Rebecca said. "We'll be there in ten minutes."
"You said you've seen Willow," Faith said. "What does she look like?"
"About eighteen, red-head, green eyes, pretty," Oz said. "Listen, you guys gotta believe me, we gotta help her! But there's all these vampires there, like sixty of them..."
Faith stomped on the gas and headed for Pasadena.
"This is Captain Riley Finn of the U.S. Marine Corps," Riley cut in. "I'm in charge of this operation. Oz, stay at the Best Western and we'll send some people to pick you up. Rebecca, either you or Faith needs to get to that supermarket right now and check it out. I'm gonna send a whole bunch of teams your way but no one else is in that area right now, closest team is at least a half-hour drive away."
"I'm closest to Will, I'm goin' after her," Faith said. "We're right near Pasadena now."
"They're...they're hurting her," Faith whispered. "They're hurting her, Becca."
"But for all we know this could be a trap, or some trick of the First's to throw us off the trail," Rebecca said. "You have to wait until Angel and I find Oz and confirm this isn't a trick. You have to wait, Faith. All right?"
"Yeah," Faith said, and felt herself starting to cry. "Forrest and I, we'll...we'll like, like case the place, check it out. But...but you get here, Becca. You get here."
"I'll be there, darling," Rebecca said. "I'll be right there."
The radio was silent. Faith didn't wake Forrest up. The more rest he got before the fight, the better off he'd be. The wind whipped by, icy cold. Faith drove at the jeep's top speed and it didn't feel anywhere near fast enough.
"Faith," Buffy said over the radio, her voice a crackling whisper on the air.
"Hey," Faith said.
"Are you okay, baby?"
Faith shook her head.
"No," Faith whispered.
"We're gonna save her, baby. You and Rebecca and Angel and Forrest and whoever else we can send, you're all gonna save her. Just hold on, okay? Okay, baby?"
"They're hurting her, Buffy," Faith whispered, sobbing. "The guy said...said they got her...in a closet."
"Faith," Tara said, cutting in. "Sweetie, you're gonna save her. I know you are. Not a doubt in my mind, sweetie. Not a doubt in my mind."
"Which one of you is Oz?" Rebecca said, hopping out of the jeep with her rifle ready at her side, as Angel screeched the jeep to a stop next to an orange and green van with three people standing in front of it.
"I am," one of them said, and stepped forward. He was a small, pale boy wearing an army coat and a guitar slung across his back.
The fat, slovenly man standing beside him said something unintelligible in Scottish, and smiled. "I'm Annie Frischmann, if anybody gives a toss," the pretty, pouting girl standing beside the fat man said, in an English accent.
"Are they vampires?" Rebecca said, glancing back at Angel.
"Nope," Angel said. He was leaning against the jeep, watching Oz.
Rebecca looked at Oz again. "You say you saw Willow Rosenberg in a closet in the stockroom of the Trader Joe's supermarket on South Lake View Avenue?"
"Yeah," Oz said. "We gotta go get her. They're not just hurting her, I don't think they're giving her any food or water either. I managed to smuggle in some water for her, but she's really weak, she won't last much longer. You have more guys? They have sixty vampires."
"Angel, is he lying?" Rebecca said.
"Nope," Angel said.
Rebecca nodded.
"Excellent," she said. "Now let's go kill some vampires."
They were coming. Somehow, they had found her. His vampires had spotted two jeeps traveling at maximum speed, going off their regular patrols in Glendale, heading for Pasadena... straight for them. Faith and one of the soldiers were in one, Rebecca and Angel were in the other. Every other patrol within fifty miles was being pulled from its route too.
Xander looked down at Willow, in the closet.
He could kill her. Faith wouldn't be here for a few more minutes.
Willow laid motionless on the floor. Her naked body was sticky with piss and spit, and she was covered with dirt and blood, old, yellowing bruises and open, infected wounds. Her eyes, formerly so beautiful and bright and full of light, were sunken. Her skin was shriveled; she looked like she had aged twenty years in there. She laid face-down in dried-up vomit, breathing in quick little gasps, dying.
"Will," Xander said. "It's time for you to decide."
Willow's eyes fluttered. But she didn't move, or speak.
"You've seen almost two-hundred people now," Xander said. "They all hurt you. They spit on you and beat you. They knew you were innocent, you heard me tell them. They hurt you anyway, just so they could be comfortable. One of them made you swallow her piss. One of them masturbated while he choked you. They aren't worthy of being saved, Will. Nothing can happen out of Her hand, right? That's why you're here. That's why the Goddess wanted you to be captured. So you can see Her children for what they really are. She's already washed Her hands of them. Tell me you won't try to save them, and I'll let you out of here. I'll bring in a doctor to see you, and I'll give you water, and food."
Willow moved her head to the side, about an inch. Xander leaned in close to her, and put his ear to her mouth.
"That a yes or a no?" he said.
"No," Willow whispered, so faintly he could just barely hear it.
"Will," Xander said. "This is your last chance. Abandon them, or I'll kill you. I don't want to kill you. But I will."
Willow looked back down at the floor, and started sobbing.
She whispered something. Xander couldn't hear it.
"What?" he said.
"Faith," Willow whispered.
"I don't wanna kill you," Xander said, and his eyes filled with tears. "Just tell me you won't pray for them. Please. Let me help you. Let me give you water. Please, baby."
Willow looked at him. She didn't move her head. She didn't have the strength. She just moved her eyes. They weren't bright anymore. When Xander looked at them now, their light seemed to be extinguished.
"They all hurt you, baby," Xander said, and tried to touch her cheek. His hand passed through her.
"Not...all," Willow whispered. "Oz."
Xander was in touch with his vampires' minds. He knew Faith was close. He wasn't sure if she would wait for help to arrive or come in herself...either way, his time was almost up...
Willow wasn't the only one who had to decide. Xander knew he had to decide too.
Faith didn't know how to get to South Lake View Avenue and she didn't want to waste time, so she woke Forrest up and let him drive.
"Okay, so let me make sure I got this straight," Forrest said. "While I was asleep we found Willow because some guy saw her in like a supermarket being tortured. There's about sixty vamps in there, and a whole hell of a lot of civilians."
"Becca radioed a few minutes ago with some more info," Faith said. "Oz says they got Willow in a closet, chained up with no food or water, and they're sending people in every fifteen minutes to kick the shit out of her. The First is giving the people a choice. Hurt Willow and you're protected, plus all the food you can eat. Don't hurt her, you get kicked to the curb and you gotta survive out here."
"They all hurt her."
"Oz didn't. The rest did."
Forrest's hands tightened on the steering wheel.
"Way I figure it, motherfuckers who kick some girl chained up in a closet ain't civilians," Forrest said. "Fuck, they ain't even human. Way I figure it, they're the bad guys. They made their choice, they're part of the First's crew. That how you figure it?"
"Yup," Faith said.
"Way I figure it, it don't matter worth a damn if some of those folks maybe get hit while we're goin' at the vamps. Collateral damage. That how you figure it?"
"Damn, dude. You just read my mind."
"We're a couple minutes out. How far behind are Rebecca and Angel?"
"A few minutes behind us maybe."
"Lemme see if I can read your mind again. We're not waitin' for 'em."
Faith smiled. "You're two for two, guy."
"She told you to wait, didn't she?"
"Yup."
"Bet she's gonna be pissed."
"She's gonna kick my little butt from here to Timbuktu. But she'll forgive me. Thing is, the First can take Angel's form, Buffy's form, and it gets their memories when it does. They both know we're on the way here. So the First might know. We wait for Becca to get here, maybe the First cuts its losses and kills Willow. Can't chance it. You and me gotta go in. Question is, how do we play it? She's in a closet in the stockroom, if they haven't moved her. Don't know where in the supermarket the stockroom is. There's about sixty vamps in there, and hundreds of people. We try to get fancy and pick our targets, the vamps all rush us and it's a mess. We need a plan."
"We gotta go in loud and fast," Forrest said. "Got more than the M-16's in here. Got some grenades too. When we left the base we took all our gear."
"Problem is, Will could be anywhere in there," Faith said. "Maybe she's not in that closet anymore. We go in firing and we could hit her."
"Uncle Sam's on the job, girl. Got me some stun grenades."
"Stun grenades?"
"M-84's, we call 'em flashbangs," Forrest said. "They throw off a blinding flash of light and a deafening burst of sound that temporarily incapacitates everyone in a given area, up to about ten meters. The Initiative likes 'em because vamps got extra-sensitive hearing and eyesight, so they're extra susceptible. A human being will be blind and deaf for maybe a minute or so, but no permanent damage. Vamps go down a lot harder. We've tested these things out on vamps, the vamps always go unconscious for awhile. As long as the First don't got any fuckin' wizards in there throwin' up energy shields we're good to go. How's that for a plan?"
Faith smiled.
"Dude, I could just kiss you," she said.
"It's because I'm so pretty," Forrest said. "Shit, I don't know how you've been holdin' back so long."
Faith was pulling up outside, a block away. It was time to decide.
"Will," Xander said. "Time's up. If you don't abandon them, right now, I'm gonna tell my vampires to kill you."
Willow looked down at the floor, and cried. No tears came.
She whispered something. Xander couldn't hear it. He moved closer to her.
"What?" he said.
"Miss...Anna," Willow whispered, sobbing. "My lil'...tickle belly."
"You can be with her," Xander said. "She can be one of the survivors. All you have to do is join me. Join me, and you can have water, you can rest. No one will ever hurt you again. I need your answer, Will. What's your answer?"
Willow looked down at the floor. The smell of piss was in her nostrils. She couldn't remember ever smelling anything else.
"Faith," Willow whispered.
"She's all the way in back," Faith said.
They were parked down the street from the supermarket, under a dead tree in front of a burned down church. Forrest looked at the supermarket through binoculars. Faith focused on her nose. The supermarket looked like a warehouse. It was a big place, one story, long and low, with its own parking lot.
"What?" Forrest said. "How do you know?"
"Got her scent. She's way at the back of the place and she's not moving."
"Thought you said there's supposed to be hundreds of folks in there."
"There are. I'm gettin' like a zillion different scents in there, lots of vamps too. But Will's scent is real strong. She hasn't washed."
"So we fight our way through, grab her and get out," Forrest said. "Place is a store, it must have like a back entrance for deliveries. One of us goes in front, one in back?"
"The vamps are all toward the back, where Will is," Faith said. "We can assume the regular people won't fight us, and even if some of them try we can breeze right through them. Gotta save the flashbangs for the vamps."
"We both go through the back."
"Yeah. How many flashbangs we got?"
"Six."
Faith got out of the jeep. Forrest got out with her. They both carried rifles, and Faith carried a katana along with hers. Forrest handed Faith goggles and earplugs.
"When we're about to go in, put those on," he said.
"You throw in the grenades and keep back," Faith said, as they headed for the supermarket. "Vamps are too strong, so let me handle the up-close and personal while you take 'em at a distance with the rifle. The second you throw the grenades I'll jump right in with my sword and make a straight run for Willow, I'm locked on to her scent now. Once I reach her I'll turn around and start firing too. You need to take out every vamp with those grenades, Forrest. If we miss and even one of those vamps reaches Will before me they could use her as a hostage. If this all goes smooth, all we gotta do is stake sixty vamps just lyin' there on the floor easy-peasy. You good with that plan?"
"I get to shoot vampires, I'm good," Forrest said.
They were in the parking lot. One of his vampires was watching them through the window. They would come in through the stockroom delivery door any second now.
Xander knew he had to kill her. If he just changed to Angelus, he could kill her...
"Okay, I know I said it was your last chance before, but now I mean it, Will," Xander said. "What's it gonna be? Are you with me? Yes or no. If you say no, I'm gonna kill you."
Xander tried to sound flippant. But he still had tears in his eyes. Willow didn't look at him.
"No one's coming to save you," Xander said. "Joining me is your only chance to live. They're not worth it, Will. The people who tortured you aren't worth dying for. Please. Don't make me do this. Don't make me kill you. Make your choice. Yes or no."
"Faith," Willow whispered.
"Yes or no!" Xander shouted. "YES OR NO!"
Willow thought about Annabelle. She remembered their first night together...they had made hot cocoa. Willow couldn't remember what hot cocoa smelled like anymore. She couldn't remember Annabelle's face.
She imagined it: joining with the First, and seeing Annabelle again.
She saw it in her mind...
She saw Annabelle...as much as she could remember of her. Willow saw herself, healthy again and reunited with her. Willow had regained the weight she lost, and all her wounds were healed. They were having a party for her, in the mansion. Faith was there with them, and Rebecca, and Buffy and Tara and Angel and Cordy...they ate cake, and laughed together, and Willow held Annabelle in her lap. But Annabelle didn't seem to recognize Willow. As Willow held her, Annabelle started to cry. No matter what Willow tried to do, no matter how she tried to console her, Annabelle wouldn't stop crying...
In the vision, Willow looked in a mirror, to try to discover why Annabelle couldn't recognize her, to see what had made Annabelle cry.
There was something missing, when Willow looked in the mirror. When Willow saw herself, it seemed that something precious was gone. Part of her was dead inside.
Willow had lost part of herself...thrown it away. And she could never get it back.
As Willow came back to reality, back to the closet, to the smell of piss and vomit, to the sticky, greasy feeling of dried-up piss and spit and blood covering her skin, to the terrible thirst that was with her every moment, that made her mouth feel like ashes, and the constant, tearing pain she felt in every part of her body...she thought it would be better for Annabelle never to see her again, than to see the Willow that had looked back at her in the mirror. The Willow who was dead inside.
"No," Willow whispered, just as the explosions started.
Xander had left when the explosions started, and the closet door had closed. Willow had been left in the dark again. She heard screams along with the explosions, and what sounded like gunfire too, and she saw flashes of light, so bright they even penetrated the closed door. For some reason, it made her think of The Star-Spangled Banner.
And the rockets' red glare...
The bombs bursting in air...
Xander had a horrible singing voice. Willow smiled, for the first time since Oz had been taken away, as she remembered it.
"I love you, Xander," Willow tried to whisper. But she was too weak to form the words. She didn't have the energy to make sounds anymore. She ended up mouthing the words silently instead, while she looked down at the floor, and the blinding light flashed and the terrible explosions thundered on outside the little dark closet.
The explosions and the screams and the gunfire formed a deafening, jumbled cacophony of mingled sounds. But Willow couldn't separate any of the sounds out...she didn't know who was fighting out there.
She decided Faith had come to rescue her.
"Faith," Willow tried to whisper. No sounds issued forth from her cracked, bleeding lips.
"Faith..."
She mouthed the word, but no sound came.
She had decided Faith had come to rescue her. But for some reason, she thought if she didn't say Faith's name, if she didn't find the strength within herself to say the word, then it wouldn't happen...as if Willow could bring Faith to her with the word...bring Faith into existence with the word.
But only if she had the strength to say it...
Without the strength to say the word, she would be lost.
She tried again.
"Faith," she whispered.
She thought maybe some sound had come from her lips that time, but she couldn't hear it over the explosions.
She kept trying. She tried to say the word, the name, over and over again...she decided she would keep trying until she died.
"Faith..." Willow whispered.
"Faith."
This was The Path of The Goddess, Willow realized. It didn't matter, that the First had made it up. Nothing could happen out of Her hand, so this was meant to happen...this was the path the Goddess had meant for her to walk.
The most important thing on this path was having faith. Faith had gotten her through her time in the closet. And now, only Faith could bring her out of it.
"Faith," Willow said, louder now, her voice gaining power. "Faith."
"Faith."
"FAITH."
"FAITH!"
"FAAAAAAAAAAAAITH!"
"Willow!" Willow heard someone scream...
It was Faith. She was sure of it.
The door tore away from its hinges, and the closet filled with light.
Willow squinted up into the light, and saw Faith standing there, with tears in her eyes.
"Oh, God," Faith whispered.
Willow cried, when she saw her. But no tears came.
Faith knelt down, and took Willow in her arms. She pulled her out of the darkness, and carried her back into the light...
Willow smiled.
"Knew...you'd save me," Willow whispered.
Faith kissed her forehead.
"I love you," Faith whispered in her ear, as she carried her out of there. "I love you, I love you, Willow."
"Love...you," Willow whispered, and cried.
Willow saw vampires, lying unconscious on the floor of the stockroom. She saw one of the soldiers, staking them as they laid there...Forrest, she remembered his name was.
She looked up, and saw the clock on the wall above the closet. It was 7:42.
"Becca," Willow heard Faith whisper. Faith's voice sounded shaky. She was still crying.
Rebecca was there, a moment later, holding a bottle of water to Willow's lips.
"Willow," Rebecca said. "Try to drink this, darling."
Willow opened her mouth. Faith sat down on the floor, and cradled her in her arms. Rebecca knelt beside her, and held the bottle of water to her lips, and Willow tried to drink.
The room was quiet. It had sounded like fireworks, like battleships, pounding each other with cannon fire...it had sounded like the end of the world. Now it was quiet. When people talked, their voices seemed to come from far away.
"She's severely dehydrated," Rebecca said. "We have to get her to a hospital immediately."
Willow drank the water, in little sips. She felt nauseous, and her throat hurt when she tried to swallow. She was cold, and the water made her feel colder, for some reason. But Faith had her arms around her, and Faith was warm.
Willow remembered she was covered with urine. Faith was holding her...the urine was getting all over Faith.
"Got..." Willow started to say.
Faith leaned closer to her, so she could hear.
"Got...pee on me," Willow whispered. "All...gross. Sorry."
Faith smiled, and held her tighter, and kissed her forehead again.
"I love you," Faith whispered.
"We can take her back to base, we got doctors," Willow heard Forrest saying.
"That's hours," Faith said. "Hospital in Burbank's close by. I want Sol."
It was hard for Willow to see. Everything always seemed dim now. People's forms seemed to waver, to advance and recede, like waves coming in on the beach.
There were people all around. People who had tortured her were there, staring down at her. It was hard for Willow to see, but she could see Ellie, looking back at her. She saw Michael. She saw William. She saw Andrew. Andrew wouldn't look at her. He was hiding his face.
Xander wasn't there. Willow wondered where he was. Then she remembered he wasn't Xander...he was the First. Xander was dead.
Willow started crying again.
She saw Angel. He looked shell-shocked. He was crying too.
"How could you do this?" she heard Angel say. He was addressing the crowd. "You're supposed to have souls. You're supposed to have souls!"
"They don't," Willow heard Forrest say.
Willow saw Michael, the priest, approaching her.
"Stay the fuck away from her or I'll kill you," Faith snarled.
Michael was carrying a blanket.
"I...have this," Michael said. "She might be cold."
"Priest, huh?" Faith said. "What did you do to her, to make sure your fucking belly stayed full?"
"I spit on her," Michael said.
"Get away from us," Faith said. "You're lucky I don't take that blanket and hang you with it."
"I'm...I'm...sorry," Michael said.
He turned away.
"Michael," Willow whispered.
He turned, and looked at her again.
"I forgive you," Willow whispered.
Michael burst into tears. "Thank you," he said.
"Can I...have...blanket?" Willow whispered.
Michael nodded. Faith took the blanket from him, and wrapped it around her, and lifted her up.
"We're taking her to the hospital," Willow heard Rebecca say. "Angel, Forrest, I'm riding with Faith and Willow. You two each take a separate car, Angel rides ahead of us, you ride behind. Have Oz and his friends drive, I want you both ready with your rifles. We might still be attacked on the way to the hospital."
"What about all these assholes?" Willow heard Forrest say. "People who tortured her. Cap said we should bring any human beings we find back to base and take care of them. But I don't see any human beings here."
"I don't give a rat's arse what happens to them," Rebecca said.
"Bring...them back," Willow whispered.
She felt herself moving. Faith was carrying her out of there now. Rebecca walked beside her, and held the bottle to her lips again.
"Try to drink some more, darling," Rebecca said.
Willow tried to drink some more water. She still felt nauseous, and it still hurt to swallow it. She managed a few more sips. She felt tired...she wanted to close her eyes. The room was becoming darker...people were fading away. She saw Angel, looking down at her, as they moved. He still had tears on his cheeks.
"Angel," Willow whispered, and reached out to him, with her good hand.
He looked shocked, for a moment. He didn't seem to know what to do. She held out her hand to him, and waited.
He took it.
"I forgive you, too," Willow whispered, and closed her eyes.
HAVE YOU NEVER BEEN HAPPY?
When Willow opened her eyes again, she was lying in her bed in the mansion.
She didn't recognize the room at first: it was bright, and it had always been dark before. There were fluorescent lamps all over the place, and medical equipment near the bed: an IV unit and various monitors. A tangle of thick wires met in the middle of the room and snaked out the door into the hallway, and the bookcase was covered with needles and rolls of bandages and surgical equipment. There were plastic coolers on the floor, and the whole room seemed to have a vague medicinal smell.
But the room smelled like incense, too. Willow noticed an incense candle, on the bureau in the corner. One of Tara's.
Willow didn't feel thirsty, or in pain. Her mouth wasn't dry. She felt hungry, but not uncomfortably so. She had energy, for the first time in a long time. She felt like she could move.
When she looked down, she saw Annabelle curled up beside her, asleep under the covers.
"Good morning," someone said.
Willow looked up, and saw Rebecca. She was sitting in a rocking chair by the bed, reading the book...the Path of The Goddess.
Rebecca looked tired, Willow thought. Her face seemed almost haggard.
"Becca?" Willow whispered. "What happened?"
"You acted very foolish," Rebecca said. "How much do you remember?"
Willow remembered the closet.
She remembered the smell of piss and vomit...she remembered being kicked and punched and bitten. She remembered the slimy feeling of spit dripping down her face. She remembered William's hands around her throat. She remembered Ellie's smell...her taste.
"I remember it all," Willow whispered.
Rebecca nodded, and stroked her hair.
"You're home now, darling," Rebecca said. "You're safe now."
Willow took Rebecca's hand, and held on to it.
"You guys...all okay?" Willow said. "Is everyone okay?"
"We're alive," Rebecca said. "But leaving us like that was the stupidest thing you could have possibly done, you played right into the First's hands. We all had a terrible time looking for you, we were running around out there for five days without sleep and it was all I could do to keep Buffy and Faith and Tara from going off the deep end. And this isn't the first time you've gone off and done something stupid, is it, Willow? It's rather a bad habit you've fallen into. Someone needs to kick your arse well and properly, young lady, and I'm just the one to do it."
Willow nodded. Rebecca smiled, and went on stroking her hair.
"But it can wait," Rebecca said. "You're with us again now...you're with me. And I'll never let anyone hurt you. All right?"
"I'm sorry, Becca," Willow said, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm sorry I..."
Rebecca kissed her forehead.
"I don't want you to think about it anymore," Rebecca said. "But from now on, when you have a problem, I want you to come to me. No matter what it is. No matter how bad it is. Even if you think you need to handle it alone. I want you to come to me. All right?"
"Yeah."
"And I'm still kicking your arse later."
Willow smiled. "Wouldn't have it any other way. How's Anna? Has she been okay?"
"Cordelia took good care of her. And after you were gone a couple of days Tara put a glamour around herself and pretended to be you. Nevertheless, Annabelle has had a very hard time of it. She hasn't once left your side since we brought you back. We have her running errands for us, little things we make up so she can feel like she's helping make you better. She sits by your side and reads you Doctor Seuss stories while she's awake and she insists on sleeping with you when it's her bedtime."
Willow smiled again, and kissed Annabelle's hair.
"She's my Anna Belly," Willow whispered in Annabelle's ear. She heard Annabelle breathing, soft and steady against her. She held her a little tighter.
Willow looked around the room again. She looked up at the monitors and the IV unit by the bed. She realized she was hooked up to them. She felt the tubes now, tugging at her skin when she moved. She noticed her stomach was bandaged.
"Are you feeling any pain at all?" Rebecca said.
Willow remembered how dark the little closet was...she remembered screaming in there, when it got too hard, sometimes...
She wasn't in the closet anymore. But the closet wasn't far from her...she still saw it, when she closed her eyes.
Part of her still wanted to scream.
"Nope," Willow said. "Feelin' okay. Kinda like, mellow."
"Good, we have you on morphine," Rebecca said.
"How long I been out? Feels like I been sackin' out awhile."
"A day. It's December first. A little past eight in the morning."
"Where's everyone at? What happened?"
"I sent everyone off to get some sleep. They were up with you all night and they were looking for you for days before that. We took you to the hospital in Burbank after we found you. I believe you know the doctor there, Doctor Ziegler, he was the one who saved Faith after she ran into Drusilla. He gave you fluids and stabilized you, while I performed some healing magic. You had some internal bleeding in you lower abdomen and Sol needed to operate, but in your weakened state he was afraid you might die if he did. With the healing magic, we were able to turn the trick. After he operated we moved you out of there, because that hospital isn't defensible. We still have the energy shield protecting the mansion here."
"Hold up. You can do healing magic?"
Rebecca watched Willow closely, as she spoke.
"My Aunt Jane's specialty was healing magic and she taught me everything she knows," Rebecca said. "I took care of your broken bones and controlled your internal bleeding while the doctor operated, and then he gave you antibiotics for your infected wounds and got your fluids stabilized. You're out of the woods now. You're getting stronger all the time."
"Sol's the man. We should maybe keep him with us, it's too damn crazy out there now."
"He's here at the mansion actually. All this equipment you see around you is his. Those wires all lead to a portable generator in the courtyard, Riley gave it to us. This way we're guaranteed enough power to run everything in the mansion even if the electricity goes out."
"Sol's here? Damn. Dude even does house calls."
Rebecca was quiet for a moment. She watched Willow, and didn't say a word.
"What?" Willow said.
"You really do have her memories, don't you?" Rebecca said. "I know you told me you do, but actually seeing the effect is different. You're talking like Faith. Even your accent. Does this happen to you often?"
Willow shrugged her shoulders. Rebecca raised her eyebrow.
"If you have Faith's memories then you'll recall I had very little patience for that particular habit of hers," Rebecca said. "Don't shrug. I like my girls to speak up."
"I'm...one of your girls?"
Rebecca smiled, and went on stroking Willow's hair. "Absolutely."
Willow smiled too.
"But don't get too overjoyed," Rebecca said. "You and I have a lot of work to do, young lady. Now. Faith's memories. How often do you get like this? What brings it on?"
"It happens...sometimes," Willow said. "When...I feel scared about stuff...being Faith helps. Calms me down."
Rebecca nodded.
"Do you feel scared now?" Rebecca said.
"It's just...I keep thinkin' about..."
"The closet scared you, didn't it? I don't mean what they did to you in there. I mean just being in there. Locked in a small, dark place, alone. It scared you."
Willow still held on to Rebecca's hand. She held on tight to it.
"Don't like feelin' boxed in," Willow said.
"I know what Angel did to you, Willow. Buffy told me."
Willow frowned. "B talks too much."
"She's had a rough time of it," Rebecca said. "She's lost people and it still hasn't sunk in. She's not dealing with it. She's lashing out...reacting. She'll be okay eventually. But for now, she's not okay. She needs our help."
"I was gonna tell you about the Angel stuff eventually, I never keep stuff from you. But Buffy should've let me get to it myself. Wasn't her place, tellin' you for me."
"I agree. But now I know. I know you have panic attacks, sometimes. I know you feel like you can't breathe. But you're a smart girl, Willow. So you know the panic is all in your head, right? That the feeling of not being able to breathe is an illusion."
"Doesn't feel like an illusion when I'm in the middle of it. Feels pretty damn real. This mean you're gonna keep me home? I mean, if we get through this and things go back to normal or whatever. You're our Watcher now that G-Man's gone. You gonna make me stay home because I get scared?"
"Of course not. You're a brave girl, Willow. Your problem isn't a lack of nerve, it's a lack of patience. You're reckless. You make stupid decisions because you don't want to take the time to properly think things through and to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, your first instinct isn't always infallible. You're used to being smart, and you're so smart it makes you an idiot sometimes. But I'm going to cure you of that problem. You're going to learn discipline."
Willow nodded.
"Unless you want to stay home. Do you want to stay home? There's nothing wrong with that, Willow."
Willow shook her head.
"It wouldn't mean you'd stop being part of the group, darling. You'll always be part of the group. You'll always be one of my girls. It's just that you wouldn't go out in the field."
"Don't wanna stay home. I'll learn discipline. I'll stop being reckless. You teach me, I'll listen to you. But I wanna be part of it...I wanna go out there."
Rebecca nodded. "And I'm going to help you with your claustrophobia and your panic attacks too. We're going to work on the problem and we're going to solve it. You and me. You're going to be fine. All right?"
Willow nodded. She was thinking about the closet. She couldn't get it out of her head.
She focused on being Faith. Faith wasn't afraid of closets. Faith wasn't afraid of anything. Being Faith was better than being Willow...
"So what's the 411 on everybody?" Willow said. "What's been happening with you guys while I've been out?"
"Things have gotten much worse out there," Rebecca said. "When we arrived at the hospital the place was nearly deserted. Sol was there with a skeleton staff and only a handful of patients. There are hardly any human beings left alive in California now. Riley and his men are collecting everyone they can and bringing them back to their base, they're locked down tight and they have enough food to survive for years down there. Riley wanted all of us to go with him, but I decided we should stay here."
"How come?"
"Because Riley brought the people from the supermarket back there too and I don't want any of them anywhere near you. Riley offered to set up a wing of the base just for us, but..."
"But what?"
"When we searched for you we had the whole Initiative with us, one hundred and eight two-man teams spread out over hundreds of miles. Buffy was paired up with Riley, and while they were on their way to the hospital to see you Riley needed to stop off at the supermarket to coordinate the evacuation of all the people there. But not all of the people at the supermarket wanted to go back to the Initiative. They had thrown in their lot with the First and some of them intended to stay with the First. The First was gone for the moment, and we killed the vampires the First had at the supermarket too, but some of the people there insisted the First wouldn't abandon them and they intended to stay. One of them, a woman who seemed to be the leader of the contingent who wanted to stay, started...bragging about the things she said she had done to you. Buffy broke her neck. Then she started attacking the others."
"Buffy...killed someone?"
"She didn't stop at one, Willow. Before the soldiers finally managed to knock her unconscious with their tasers...Buffy killed thirteen people."
Buffy sat on a cold granite bench in the mansion's stone courtyard, and looked up at the night sky. She couldn't see it very well through the pulsing white light of the energy shield encompassing the house. But it was definitely a night sky: black, and sprinkled with stars like diamond dust.
Except it wasn't night. It was nine in the morning. The sky was perfectly clear and the sun should have been up, a shining golden ship sailing across a deep blue sea. But it was always night, now, no matter what time it was. The moon, red and nearly full, hung in the black sky instead, like an open wound.
There were jasmine flowers all around Buffy; the flowers were white, with five petals each like little stars in the darkness, hanging in pots all over and climbing everywhere along the granite walls. Their smell was strong and very sweet. Buffy always thought they were too sweet. But they were Angel's favorite flower, and he had been diligent in caring for them: from their small foothold in a few little pots hung here and there on the walls they had spread, outgrowing the pots and trailing all the way down to the ground and then going on to colonize the stone walls themselves. Angel liked the way they made the barren gray courtyard look, so he had added even more pots, and within a year the jasmine had climbed the cold stone in every direction and as far as the eye could see in their heedless, headlong rush to quest out and conquer new territory, creating a lush, vibrant, thriving world there. They were resilient flowers, Buffy thought-- nothing ever seemed to stop them. They never wilted, never died, they just kept on growing and growing. Buffy had always thought they were beautiful, before. But the jasmine flowers had such an overpowering scent that they drowned out any other flowers growing with them. Angel had tried putting other flowers out there. But the jasmine always ended up alone. Now, Buffy was sick of them.
So Buffy looked up at the stars instead, and thought about all the people she'd murdered.
She remembered them all...every single one. The way they looked, the way they smelled...how they screamed, or begged...the look of terror, or resignation, or sometimes merely surprise, when they realized they had finally arrived at their last moment. Buffy didn't avoid the memories, didn't try to shut the memories out.
She wondered if anyone had figured out her secret, yet. So far, Rebecca and Tara and Oz and Cordelia had talked to her about the people she killed at the supermarket. But they hadn't figured out the secret.
Faith hadn't talked to her about it yet. They had taken a bath together, and made love; they hadn't spoken, while they made love. There wasn't time then. They had been away from each other for five days and they needed each other. Their need came before everything else. They hadn't spoken afterwards, and then they were up with Willow, watching over her as she slept. Eventually Rebecca sent them to bed. They hadn't talked then, either. They only looked into each other's eyes, as Faith drifted off to sleep. But Buffy couldn't sleep...she'd wandered the mansion for awhile, feeling restless, like a lion on a chain. She'd ended up in the courtyard.
The jasmine all around her made Buffy feel like she was taking a bath in perfume. She was sick of the smell.
And now there was another smell...rotten meat.
"Hey," Angel said.
Buffy didn't look up at him. She felt him now, at the other end of the courtyard, standing in the doorway. She felt his eyes on her.
"I'm in the club," Buffy said.
"I'm in a club," Angel said. "I send away for these videotapes. They send me one a month."
Buffy looked at him. He stood a little straighter, as he strolled toward her. His face seemed younger. His eyes seemed brighter. He wore black slacks and a gray silk shirt open to the chest, the black Aldo shoes she had picked out for him, shined now so you could see your reflection in them if you weren't a vampire, and a long, black coat. It all looked marvelous on him. His hair was perfect, too, but then it always was.
Buffy remembered what Willow had said to her, at the hospital...
It's funny. If Xander looked like Angel, and Angel looked like Xander, none of this would've happened.
Xander was the good guy. He was the hero of the story. But he didn't look like the hero. Angel looked like the hero, so we all treated him that way. We let him into our hearts, all of us.
And he killed us.
"You send away for videotapes?" Buffy said.
"Ever since you made me get that VCR. They send me classic ball games. Just got the 1987 Lakers/Celtics series before everything went to hell out there."
"Old games on video? But...don't you already know who won?"
"Sure. Games are still fun to watch. The play's the thing. But you weren't talking about a video club."
"Murderer's club," Buffy said. "You must be psyched. I won't be able to rub your nose in it anymore."
Angel sat next to her on the bench. There was something slightly off about his scent... Buffy couldn't quite place it.
"Sorry," Buffy said. "That was bitchy."
"I'm sorry too," Angel said. "Sorry I hurt you. Sorry about those little girls...about Willow."
Buffy nodded. Angel took her hand.
"Never really told you I'm sorry," Angel said. "Mostly because the words couldn't ever be enough. I thought the words wouldn't matter, because they can't change what happened. But the words do matter. I think you know how I feel about what happened when I lost my soul... about the things I did, and the effect they had...on everyone. But even though I'm pretty sure you know how I feel, even though I'm pretty sure you know I'm sorry, it's important that I say the words. I'm sorry I hurt you, Buffy."
"Thanks," Buffy said. "Faith says...Willow forgave you."
"Yeah."
"I haven't. Don't know if I can."
"I know."
"Not because you hurt me. Because you hurt her."
They looked out at the jasmine together.
"Why do you have these frigging flowers everywhere?" Buffy said. "They smell obnoxious. It's like I'm being pelted with gummi bears."
"I always liked them," Angel said.
"Faith thinks I smell like jasmine. That why you keep them here? They remind you of me? My scent?"
"Yeah."
"If we get out of this I'm gonna tell Faith to get rid of these flowers. It's her house. We'll put some different flowers out here. Maybe some lilacs. Tara says lilacs are nice."
"You guys gonna live here?"
"I don't know. Rebecca says the place is defensible. Defensible is good. We'd need to add some things. Rugs. A stereo. General Paddington. Maybe some wallpaper, if you can paper over granite. You ever kill anyone when you had your soul?"
"Killed plenty of things."
"No, I mean a person. Not vampires or demons or monsters. You ever kill a person when you had your soul?"
"No."
"I've killed eighteen. Those four priests, then the guy with the stupid hair, then the scumbags at the supermarket."
"You're not a murderer, Buffy," Angel said. "You killed people because you care about your friends and you want to protect them."
"That why you're here?" Buffy said. "You come out here to talk to me about it? To tell me I shouldn't feel guilty, that I'm a good person and I'm just going through a hard time right now? Already talked with Rebecca and Tara and Oz and Cordy."
"Actually I came out to ask you about the VCR controller."
"What?"
Angel pulled the VCR remote out of his coat pocket.
"This button here?" Angel said, and pointed down at the remote. "The one that says TV/VCR? What's this do? Every time I press it the TV gets all wacky."
Buffy smiled.
"You really came out here to ask me about the VCR remote, didn't you?" she said.
Angel smiled too.
"Yeah," he said.
"That button just switches the TV over from showing whatever's on the TV to whatever's on the VCR and back again."
"Why doesn't the TV just show the TV, and then when the VCR has a movie in it, show that instead?"
"Why are we talking about this?"
"And what's up with the mute button?"
"It turns off the sound. Y'know, makes it like, mute. Duh."
"Why would someone want to watch a movie without sound? What's the point of that?"
Buffy sighed. "How the hell should I know? Go ask Japan."
Angel squinted down at the remote by the flickering white light of the energy shield, and shook his head. "These things have too many buttons. It's like the guys who made these things were just looking for excuses to add buttons."
"We're debating VCR remote design," Buffy said. "This is even worse than that time we had the big debate about Anne Rice. And no, you totally wouldn't work as a character in one of her books by the way. Lestat would never invite you to one of his parties. You'd just stand in a corner and mope at everyone."
"Lestat's a pansy. I could kick his ass. Willow wants to talk to you."
"She send you out here to get me? You guys best buds now?"
"I just heard her asking Rebecca where you are."
"Must be weird, always hearing everything everyone says."
"Hasn't been a real party lately. This controller thing needs a button that puts you and Faith on mute when you're boinking."
Buffy sighed again, and stood up.
"I can't believe you actually say 'boink'," Buffy said.
"I'm just sayin', this thing came with a button that made you and Faith quiet, then we'd really have something," Angel said. "Plus you sorta babble a lot. It would be good to mute the babbling out too."
"I don't babble! And you're like two-hundred and seventy one years old and you're saying 'boink'. It's like that time my Mom tried saying 'fab'."
"You babble," Angel said, and aimed the remote at her, and pressed the mute button. "You're babbling right now. You're completely babbling."
"Didn't work," Buffy said, and started dancing in front of him, swinging her hips and snapping her fingers. "La-la-la, I'm still talking. La-la-la, I'm so awesome. La-la-la, you can't mute me, La-la-la, 'cuz I'm so awesome..."
"Well, it was worth a shot," Angel said.
Buffy smiled. Angel aimed the remote at her again, and kept pressing the mute button.
Then Buffy's jaw dropped.
"Oh my God," Buffy said.
"What?" Angel said.
"Cordy!" Buffy said, and started giggling. "That's why you're scent's a little off, it's Cordy's scent! You're boinking Cordy!"
"You are too boinking Cordy! You're totally boinking Cordy!" Buffy's smile faded. "Wait a minute. You're boinking Cordy." Buffy was glaring down at him now. "How long have you been boinking Cordy?"
Angel sighed, and stood up, and walked away from her.
"It was just...when we got back from looking for Willow, Cordy and I talked and...look, we didn't boink, okay? We just...did some stuff."
"Did some stuff? And can you at least look at me please?"
Angel turned back to her.
"Look...I can't ever risk...what happened between you and me," Angel said. "I can't ever risk that again. Cordy and I didn't..." He shook his head, and frowned. "Christ, I hate this conversation. Cordy and I didn't go all the way, okay? We just..."
"How far? First base? Second? Third?"
"What? What the hell are you talking about?"
"You are so old. First base, kissing. Second base, feeling up. Third base..."
"We got to third base."
"I didn't tell you what third base was."
"We got there."
Buffy nodded. She paced around the courtyard for a moment.
"Do you like her?" Buffy said.
"Yeah," Angel said.
"Well I guess someone was bound to eventually. Law of averages. What about the perfect happiness thing?"
"We didn't hit a home run, just a triple. Do people really talk about sex in terms of baseball or are you making this up so I'll start saying it and look dumb?"
"So perfect happiness can only be doing the deed? What about...what about being with her and...talking to her. Cuddling and stuff? Didn't that ever...couldn't that make you happy?"
"Perfect happiness doesn't come along every day, Buffy. A moment like we had, most people never have even one moment like that in their entire lives. That moment didn't happen for me because I had sex with you. It happened because I had sex with you. Buffy Summers. Cordy and I could hit a home run and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't lose my soul."
Buffy still wasn't looking at him. She stood with her back to him, looking at the jasmine.
"I hate these fucking flowers," Buffy said.
"I love them," Angel said. "I always will."
"I'll always hate them."
"Maybe not always."
Buffy looked at him again.
"Could you maybe not hit a home run with her, just in case?" Buffy said. "Last thing we need is Angelus running around."
"Yeah," Angel said.
Buffy sat back down on the bench.
"I guess...I'm happy for you," she said.
Angel sat next to her again. Buffy took his hand.
"This is gonna sound stupid," Buffy said. "But...can we be friends? Can we maybe hang out and not annoy each other or boink each other or fight each other?"
"Nope," Angel said.
"What? What do you mean, no? You don't wanna be my friend?"
"Sure I do. But I've been around a long time, Buffy. The let's be friends thing? Doesn't work. Not saying we're enemies. Not saying I don't like you. I do like you. But part of the reason we worked so well as lovers is that we sort of annoy each other. Friends comfort each other. But lovers aren't about that. Lovers need to fascinate each other, they need to compel each other. There's gotta be tension, like there was with us. There's gotta be..."
"A spark," Buffy said.
"Yeah. Pretty sure we'll suck as friends. I'll try anyway. We'll probably end up being royal pains in each other's asses though."
"You sure that remote doesn't have a button to mute you and Cordy? Now that I know you guys are boinking I'm always gonna be thinking I can hear you."
"Says the girl who boinks Faith like a hundred times a day. Cordy's pretty quiet anyway. She's not a screamer like Faith."
Buffy stood up, with her hands on her hips. "I am gonna boink her a hundred times a day. If you're gonna be boinking Cordy I'm gonna boink Faith every second. In fact, you know what? I'm boinking everybody in the house. Faith and I are totally gonna have a foursome with Tara and Willow, you just watch. We're all gonna be really loud too. It's gonna go on for hours."
"I thought Willow was straight? She was dating Xander. Actually I always kinda thought Xander could turn out gay."
"We're all lesbians. Everyone in the house is a lesbian. We're gonna invite Cordy to our foursome. We're gonna boink Cordy too. We're gonna have her screaming so loud you're gonna think she's being mauled by vampires."
"Cordy likes guys."
Buffy smiled. "Faith did too. Then she met me. I'm totally gonna turn Cordy gay."
"Uh...maybe we should change the subject," Angel said.
"I'm gonna boink everyone in the house in a big porno movie foursome and it's gonna last for hours and hours and hours," Buffy said. "I'm turning Cordy gay just to piss you off. So actually it's gonna be a fivesome, I guess. Whoever isn't a lesbian yet is totally about to be a lesbian. We're gonna film it all and make you watch."
"Buffy, Rebecca's--"
"Rebecca? Oh yeah, I'm gonna boink Rebecca too. So totally utterly boinking the hell out of Rebecca. Mmmm, she is so boinkable. It's gonna be a sixsome now! How's that? I'm gonna boink Faith and Willow and Tara and then I'M GIVING CORDY AND REBECCA THE BOINKINGS OF THEIR LIVES! And then--"
Rebecca cleared her throat. It only felt like a bomb going off in Buffy's stomach. It didn't actually make anything in the courtyard explode.
"Um...that's...Rebecca back there, isn't it?" Buffy said.
"Yeah," Angel said.
"Okay...this is bad on so many levels," Buffy said.
"Yeah, I can see that," Angel said. "Though it's actually really amusing from my perspective."
"Is there a way I could possibly cease to exist right now? Like, a magic thing?"
"Nope. Gotta tough it out and face the music."
"Why did you let me stop you from destroying the world last spring? If you didn't fight like such a wuss you would've destroyed the world and none of this would've happened! How could you let me beat you in a swordfight anyway? I'm not even that good with swords! You've been handling swords for centuries! You can't take a seventeen-year old girl in a swordfight? What kind of Big Bad are you? Lestat could kick your ass!"
"Um...no? Is that a possible answer?"
Angel smiled, and waved at Rebecca.
"Hi, Rebecca," he said.
"Hello, Angel," Rebecca said, from the doorway. "Has Buffy suddenly turned to stone?"
"Something like that. Looks more like a tomato right now though."
"You're really annoying when you're in a good mood," Buffy said. "Have I told you lately how annoying you are? Maybe I could go to Mexico."
"She's kinda looking at you," Angel said. "She's gonna come over here if you don't turn around soon. I know you're sorta hoping that by not turning around you're gonna make her go away, but it's really not working."
"There was this girl in school who turned invisible. Maybe if I really, really concentrate I could turn invisible."
"I remember that girl. The government took her, right? They probably made her like an assassin or something."
"Do you think I could pay her to kill me?"
Rebecca was standing beside Buffy now. She was wearing one of Cordelia's outfits, Buffy noticed--a black, long-sleeved, button-down man-tailored shirt with billowing sleeves, and a beige high-waisted pencil skirt. And she was wearing a matching pair of Tara's Christian Laurent pumps. And her hair looked perfect, like it always did.
Buffy was wearing sneakers and sweatpants and a gold tee-shirt that said Go Razorbacks! in maroon letters, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
"Hello, Buffy," Rebecca said.
"Hello, Rebecca," Buffy said, and fixed her eyes on a particular point in space five feet directly in front of her. She noticed Angel. His smile was so wide right now that Buffy thought his face might actually split apart. He had a beautiful smile, Buffy thought, which didn't at all change the fact that she wanted to drop-kick him off the Empire State Building right then.
"Yes, well, I have no idea what the word 'boink' could possibly mean, and I think we should probably keep it that way, don't you?" Rebecca said.
"Oh, um, I have no idea what it could possibly mean either," Buffy said. "Wait! Wait, no, I totally know what it means. It means, um...like...hanging out and...having a nice chat. A nice chat about completely wholesome things. Like knitting. And The Waltons."
"I see," Rebecca said, with just a hint of a smile. "Well, Willow would like you to boink her then. Then perhaps you and I could boink later."
Angel cracked up laughing.
"Why did I save the world?" Buffy muttered, as she trudged away.
After Willow left the Hall of Warriors with Thor they came back to his palace together, and got ready to go off to war.
They didn't waste time. Willow changed out of her nightgown and packed her goblin skin handbag with some magical odds and ends. Thor buckled on his battle armor. They changed their clothes in front of each other, in his bedroom. Willow didn't feel self-conscious about it. They had been lovers.
They didn't spend time talking about what would happen if they died. They didn't have a last meal. They didn't make love. There was a battle to be fought, and Asgardians didn't waste time with long goodbyes.
Just before they left his palace, Willow kissed him. She kissed him in front of the window, as the robins perched on the windowsill, and serenaded them. She kissed him in the sun.
"Okay," Willow said, and smiled, after she kissed him. "Now I can die."
"You'll never die," Thor said.
They walked out of his palace together, holding hands.
When they looked up they saw Freyja, standing in the sky.
Freyja was a young goddess, or at least, that's how Willow always thought of her: she looked like a teenage girl, though she had lived thousands of years, and in fact she often reminded Willow of Buffy. Freyja hovered in the air, her magical cloak of eagle feathers giving her great, majestic wings that spanned more than fifty feet from tip to tip. She stood in the sky, beautiful and hard and perilous as an icy mountain peak. But her fiery red hair blazed in the afternoon sun as if it were strewn with rubies, and her blue eyes were as warm and bright and fair as the sky in springtime.
Freyja carried a sword that was taller than Willow. And she didn't look happy.
"Hi, Freyja," Willow said, giving her a cheery smile. Willow knew the problem with Freyja was, she never had any fun. All she ever wanted to do was smite things. Thor was fun at least. After the smiting was over, Thor always threw awesome parties. He sang, he drank, he bench-pressed sperm whales, he arm wrestled frost giants...
"Hail, Willow," the goddess said. "Are they all done talking yet? These great heroes who prattle on like a band of gossiping tavern wenches while Midgard burns?"
Thor smiled. Freyja was Thor's younger cousin, and Willow knew Thor thought Freyja was just the cutest thing. Especially when she was angry, which was most of the time. When Freyja was angry, she got two little red spots on her cheeks. She really was cute, Willow thought. Though Willow never told Freyja she was cute. An Asgardian warrior had told her that once and ended up in the Houses of Healing eating mutton through a straw for two months.
"Hail, cousin," Thor said. "The time for talking is done."
He raised his hammer. Instantly, the blue sky darkened; stormclouds swept over the horizon like a fleet of black battleships. "Tanngrisnir!" Thor shouted. "Tanngnjóstr! Come!"
"Battle
"Nay," Thor said. "I shall lead, but just we three. We travel through time itself, to put a stop to this devastation before it can spread, and save fair Midgard before it falls."
"Not so fast, brother," Loki said, appearing suddenly in front of them in a flash of black light. "Loki would accompany you."
Freyja laughed. "And here I thought Loki was only interested in saving his own neck," she said. "We go to fight and maybe die, shapeshifter. This is no journey for cowards."
Loki frowned. Willow knew Freyja had never really gotten over him cheating her out of her cloak of falcon feathers and she had almost killed him over it a few times now. She wasn't as strong as her cousin Thor, but she wasn't as forgiving either. She held on to a grudge for a long time. Loki had stolen her falcon feather cloak more than four-thousand years before, and Willow knew Freyja was every iota as pissed off about it as she was the day she lost it. Freyja always brought it up whenever Willow hung out with her. Whenever she was in Asgard, Willow always took Freyja out and tried to fix her up with a nice guy, tried to get her to relax. More than anyone Willow had ever met, Freyja needed to relax.
Loki was wearing the cloak of falcon feathers now, of course.
"You really do need to get laid, Freyja," Loki said.
Freyja got two cute little red spots on her cheeks. Her hand tightened on her sword.
Willow sighed. If a fight broke out now between Freyja and Loki it would be a mess. Thor would get involved and then there would be thunder and lightning and bursts of magic energy and gods screaming oaths at each other and the earth quaking and castles collapsing all around them, and maybe there would be frost giants too if Loki really decided to get serious, and there just wasn't time. Thor and Freyja both loved to fight and sometimes they could get a little too enthusiastic, in much the same way nuclear warheads could get a little too enthusiastic when someone launched them at something.
"Have a care, brother," Thor said.
"She insulted me first," Loki said.
"What are you, ten years old, Loki?" Willow said. "We're kind of on our way to save the world here, so could we maybe skip the hissy fit? There's more important stuff to think about."
"Indeed," Loki said, and smiled, and bowed to her. "You must see Midgard through this crisis, and in that cause, Loki could be of use."
"You're not coming," Willow said, and brushed past him. "Thor, Freyja, let's go."
Loki stepped in front of Willow.
"You need me, Willow," he said. "Your magic is nowhere near as powerful as mine. For once in your life, see past your vanity, woman! Think of Midgard before yourself."
Thor was looking at him. Willow knew Thor; she knew he was torn now. He wanted to trust his brother...but he didn't.
"Sure, you could be a big help," Willow said. "Your magic is a lot stronger than mine. Only problem is, I don't trust you."
"But you need me!" Loki shouted. "The First Evil--"
"Maybe we get down there and you and the First Evil turn out to be pals," Willow said. "Sorry. Let's go, guys."
"I'm sorry, brother," Thor said, and moved past him.
"Wait!" Loki shouted, and stepped in front of them again. "Willow owes me a favor of my choosing! You were witness to the pact, Thor! She owes me a favor and I name it now! I shall accompany you to this battle and fight alongside you."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Willow said, and pushed him away. "This is the favor? Now I know you wanna screw us down there somehow."
"On my life, on my father's life, I will not betray you," Loki said. "You need me for this fight! And you owe me this!"
"Is it true, cousin?" Freyja said.
"Partly," Thor said. "Willow owes him one favor of his choosing, that is so. But I must approve of it first. That was also part of the pact, Loki."
"What must I do to make you believe me, brother?" Loki said.
"Undo a thousand acts of treachery," Thor said. "So there is nothing you can do."
"Thor, we have battled countless times," Loki said. "But we are brothers. Nothing will ever change that. I love you, and I know you love me. This battle for Midgard may kill you all. If you're to die I would be at your side."
They were quiet after that. Thor looked at Loki...and tried to decide.
"That's it?" Willow said. "That's the speech? I've heard you make a lot better speeches than that, Loki."
"The curse of the liar is that he is never believed, even when he tells the truth," Loki said. "I've said all I can say."
"Don't believe him," Freyja said. "Remember all the times he's tricked you, Thor."
"I'm with Freyja," Willow said.
Thor was still looking at Loki.
After a moment, Thor held out his hand. Loki took it.
"Come, brother," Thor said. "Let the sons of Odin be united. We shall battle at each other's side, and sweep those vermin from fair Midgard, or die trying."
"Aye," Loki said, and smiled.
"Thor," Willow said. "What if he--"
Thor raised his hand. Willow stopped talking. They were in Asgard and there was a protocol to these things. This might have been her plan, her fight, but Thor was in charge.
"I know the risks," Thor said. "But Loki was right when he said this battle might mean our deaths. There is no guarantee of victory here. All the universe hangs by a thread; I can feel it in my bones. And if I am to die, I would die trusting my brother. Come! We talk overlong. Battle awaits. If I am to die this day, mighty Mjolnir at least shall see to it that I have some company."
There was nothing else Willow could say. Thor was in charge, and he had decided. When Thor made up his mind, that was that.
But then Willow found herself smiling, despite her mood. Thor's decision to bring Loki along may have been ill-advised and hopelessly naive, but it was gracious and honorable too, and it reminded her of why she loved Thor so much: he would never allow hatred and bitterness to darken his heart. He lived in the light. Willow knew she could never be like him. But that just made her love him even more.
Before they stepped into the chariot, Willow took Loki aside.
"If you hurt him I swear to the Goddess I'll kill you," she whispered in his ear.
They stepped into the chariot together, and sailed into the clouds.
"How you feeling?" Buffy said, as she sat on the edge of Willow's bed. Annabelle was still asleep, curled up in Willow's arms, perfectly content.
Buffy thought Willow already looked a lot better than she had the day before. Her face was still wrinkled and her eyes and her cheeks still seemed sunken, but much less so than yesterday. Willow looked like she had gained weight too. And the light in her eyes had returned. In fact, Willow's eyes seemed brighter and more beautiful now than Buffy had ever seen them... like polished diamonds...like everything that wasn't essential had been stripped away.
"Pretty good," Willow said. "Um...pretty stupid too. Running off like that, without telling you guys...dumb, dumb, dumb. And I'm always the one doing practical jokes on other people. Can't believe I fell for that book. Maybe it's karma. Life getting me back for all those elevator passes I sold."
Buffy laughed. "Yeah, maybe."
"I got Faith's memories and that makes me think sometimes I can be all like, super leader girl like she is? Y'know, all cool and comin' up with the plan. But I'm not Faith. And I'm so completely not tactical."
"You're brave, Willow," Buffy said, and kissed her cheek. "Are you feeling any pain or anything?"
"All these IV tubes and stuff are kinda pinchy. But other than that, I'm feelin' pretty groovy. Sol's got me doped up. This morphine stuff's almost as good as pot. He was just here checking me out. Says I can start drinking on my own, and I can eat a little real food today too." Willow frowned. "Mushy food. And no pot either."
"You actually asked your doctor if you could smoke a joint?"
"Well...in my defense I was feelin' kinda high when I asked. This morphine stuff is serious. Plus I asked him while Becca was in the room, and she gave me that look, y'know, the frown plus the raised eyebrow at the same time? I got a feeling my pot stash just went bye-bye."
"You think Rebecca would dump your pot stash? But it's yours. Okay, yeah, it's pot but...it's your pot."
Willow smiled. "You really don't know Becca very well, do you?"
"Well, I know she tends to pop up at really inconvenient moments."
"What?"
"You don't wanna know. Remember that time my Mom caught us all watching that porno movie Xander brought over, right in the middle of the scene with the Darth Vader guy boinking the Princess Leia chick?"
"Star Whores," Willow said. "Y'know, say what you want about porn, but that movie had great production values. They did an awesome job on the light saber penises."
"Yeah, too bad my Mom wasn't real big on production values. Anyway, multiply that by two-hundred and thirty-seven-billion and you've got my approximate level of wanting to change my name and move to Mexico."
"Um...okay. Well anyway the thing about Becca is, she's kinda like the Mafia. Once you're in, you're in for life. And we're all in. So goodbye, pot."
"But hello turkey. We wanna have Thanksgiving. We've got turkey here, once you can eat we wanna do the whole Thanksgiving thing. Stuffing, cranberry sauce, the works. That sound cool? We've even got yams. Seriously. We've got yams, and we're not afraid to use 'em."
"Can't say no to yams. I can eat tomorrow maybe. Sol says today's all about soup and juice and jello. But...with the world ending...with so many people dead out there...I mean, Becca told me she heard on the radio a hundred million people have been killed now, and when you add in all the missing kids we're talking like, billions. Billions of people are gone, Buffy. You really think we have anything to be thankful for?"
Buffy hugged her.
"We've got you back," Buffy said. "We're giving thanks for that."
"That closet was hard on me," Willow said. "But it was hard on you guys too. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, sweetie."
"It's okay," Buffy said. "But yeah, we were going crazy out there. Not just out there. The mansion's got a hole in it and Tara won't tell us what happened. She keeps changing the subject whenever Faith and I bring it up, and she's nervous about it. Maybe it was leprechauns."
"She'll tell Becca. Becca will just give her the stare until Tara breaks down in a cold sweat and confesses. But...everyone's okay?"
"We're okay now that you're back. Do you need anything? You can drink a little now, right? You want me to bring you some juice?"
Willow sat up, gingerly. It took her a moment, and she felt a little dizzy as she did it. Buffy held on to her, and steadied her.
"You sure you should be moving around?" Buffy said.
"In two days we gotta try to save the world," Willow said. "I'm gonna have to get out of this bed sometime. And I gotta cook breakfast for Annabelle."
"We can handle that, Will."
"I wanna do it. I've been away from her and...I miss cooking for her. But first you and I gotta talk...about those people at the supermarket."
"And about how I killed a whole bunch of them. I guess it's your turn to talk to me about it now."
Willow leaned her head on Buffy's shoulder. Just sitting up was making her feel tired. Her body felt like it had been stretched out on a rack.
"Will, are you sure you're okay?" Buffy said. "Maybe you should lie back down."
Willow shook her head. "Gotta cook breakfast for Anna. And I gotta get up sometime. I didn't want you to kill those people, Buffy. That's not what I wanted."
Buffy nodded. Willow looked at her. Buffy looked even worse than Rebecca had...like she hadn't eaten or slept in ages. Like she was falling apart.
"Have any of you guys slept at all?" Willow said. "Everyone who comes in here looks almost as bad as I do."
"You look beautiful," Buffy said. "We haven't slept much. We're all gonna try to sleep today. Faith's getting some sleep now. We're all just...we've all just been...thinking about you."
Willow took Buffy's hand.
"You're my best friend," Willow said. "That's never gonna change."
Buffy nodded.
"One of them...she said she...did stuff to you," Buffy said. She looked away from Willow's eyes, down at the floor. "She said she..."
"What did she say?"
Buffy shook her head.
"I already lived through it, Buffy," Willow said. "Hearing about it isn't gonna hurt me."
"She said...she..."
"Was she maybe 5'6", in her thirties, short black hair, blue eyes?" Willow said. "Jeans and construction boots, plaid sweater?"
"Yeah," Buffy said.
"Ellie Padgett," Willow said. "She held my nose until I couldn't breathe and then she peed in my mouth. Then she held my mouth closed so I couldn't breathe until I swallowed it. Is that what she told you?"
Buffy nodded, and looked down at the floor.
"I still remember what she smelled like," Willow said. "Not just...not just her pee. But.... y'know...all of her. Down there. She was turned on by what she was doing to me and she had like...a sex smell. I didn't like it. I've got Faith's memories but...I kinda wanna go find James Van Der Beek right now. Kinda don't wanna think about women that way anymore. Like, not ever again."
"They were always Faith's memories, Willow, not yours," Buffy said. "Maybe you're... coming back to yourself."
"Or maybe I shouldn't let Ellie put me off half the human race," Willow said. "You weren't like Ellie. I mean...in Faith's memories. You weren't like Ellie. I'm sort of officially feeling totally straight again, but...the memories I have of you...I still think you were beautiful, Buffy. Every part of you. And I know why. I know why I can be straight again but still think you were beautiful. It all comes back to those people in the supermarket...it all comes back to me wishing you didn't kill them, but understanding why you did."
"Um...kinda lost me there," Buffy said.
Buffy raised her head a little, but still hid her face from her. Willow could see tears in Buffy's eyes now.
Willow caressed Buffy's cheek, and lifted her head, so she could see her.
"Love," Willow whispered, and kissed her cheek. "I love you, so I'll always think you're beautiful. You love me, so you killed those people because of what they did to me. Everything in the world comes from love, Buffy. Love...or the absence of it. People do desperate things for their love. And they do desperate things when they don't have love, too. I didn't want you to kill those people, because I love you and I don't want you to carry that around with you. I don't want you to hurt yourself, sweetie."
Buffy nodded. Willow didn't know the secret. Buffy wondered if any of them would figure it out...
The secret was, Buffy didn't feel guilty about killing the people in the supermarket. She didn't feel a thing. If she felt anything at all, she felt satisfaction.
The feeling of Ellie Padgett's neck snapping like a twig in her hand had been almost sensuous.
Buffy remembered something Angel had said to her once...
Killing gets easier the more you do it, he had said.
And some people develop a taste for it...
"Yeah," Willow said. "I know you're wondering if maybe I was delirious or whatever when I did it. I wasn't delirious. I meant it. I still mean it."
"I don't know if I can forgive him," Buffy said.
"Hatred and bitterness darken our hearts, Buffy," Willow said. "They poison us, they weigh us down, they age us, before our time. It isn't good, to live that way...to always be living in the dark."
Willow took Buffy's hands in hers, and looked into Buffy's eyes.
"Live in the light, sweetie," Willow said.
"You're gonna pray for the world," Buffy said. "You're gonna pray to God...to the Goddess."
"The Goddess," Willow said. "I'm a Wicca chick."
"But that's the same as God, right? In Wicca, the Goddess is the creator...Goddess is another name for God."
"Yeah."
"What do you think the Goddess will say when She finds out you're friends with someone like me? With someone who kills people? What do you think the Goddess would think of this Buffy Summers chick you hang with?"
"If I was the Goddess, you wanna know what I'd think about Buffy Summers?" Willow said.
Willow hugged her.
"This is what I'd think, sweetie," Willow whispered in her ear. "I'd think I love you."
Twenty minutes later, Willow stood by the stove in the room that wasn't really the kitchen because the refrigerator and the sink weren't in there, and cooked Annabelle's breakfast.
They had gone to the kitchen and Buffy had picked up everything they would need and tossed it all in a cardboard box and carried it all down the hall in one hand, while she carried Annabelle, who was still asleep, in her other hand, and also held on to Willow so she could support her as she walked. Willow trudged along beside Buffy down the long, drafty hallway, wearing a blanket wrapped around her because the hospital gown was flimsy and the mansion was cold, dragging her IV unit along beside her, taking small steps, and still feeling like she was running laps. By the time they made it to the room with the stove, which was located at the opposite end of the mansion from the room with the refrigerator, Willow was out of breath.
But Willow insisted on standing in front of the stove now, in her hospital gown with the blanket wrapped around her and the IV unit beside her, making pancakes and bacon and toast for Annabelle as Buffy held Annabelle in one arm and kept her other arm around Willow's waist to hold her up, and Willow shook her head when Buffy suggested she sit down and let her finish the cooking.
"I'm okay," Willow said. "As long as I can lean on you."
"You can always lean on me," Buffy said.
Willow didn't feel winded anymore but her legs felt tired. It was like she was standing on two blocks of wood. She wondered how long she could stand there before her legs buckled on her. But she wasn't worried. She knew Buffy would catch her if she fell.
"So, Becca says Oz is here?" Willow said, as she started piling pancakes on a big plate, and turned the bacon in the frying pan. Buffy was handling the toast, somehow keeping a steady stream of bread going in and out of the toaster despite the fact that she was holding Annabelle in her arms and keeping Willow from collapsing.
"Yeah, and before you freak out because the full moon hits in two days, don't worry," Buffy said. "Angel says the mansion's got like a dungeon downstairs. Heavy granite door, thick stone walls, chains, the works. Oz was actually gonna go to the Initiative with Riley's guys--"
"I don't want him there. Riley's nice but...the Initiative hunts people like Oz. I don't want him with them. I want him with me."
"He wanted to be here too, he's been worried about you. But he didn't want to hurt any of us when it's time for him to go all fuzzy. But we've got the dungeon. Beats the cage at the library. Remember the first time we captured Oz, Giles tried keeping him in the flimsy little cage in the library? Not one of Giles' smarter ideas. I don't think that cage could keep Cordy in."
"Why does the school library have a cage anyway? Did you ever wonder about that?"
"I stopped wondering about weird things a long time ago. Anyway, dungeon's a big improvement over the library cage."
"And it'll hold him? When we all leave it'll just be Cordy and Sol here with Anna and... I'm just worried about Anna. I mean, I know Oz doesn't haven't any control over himself when he's all wolfy and it's not his fault, but..."
"Angel says the dungeon will definitely hold him, plus we've got the tranq guns too. When we all go wherever we're gonna go in a couple days we'll leave Cordy the tranq guns and plenty of ammo and she can just keep Oz unconscious the whole time when he's wolfed out."
"Okay. Is the dungeon comfortable? Can we like, put some stuff in there for him?"
"We'll keep him as comfortable as we can. Faith says Oz didn't hurt you at the supermarket. She says the First was offering to protect people if they hurt you, but Oz wouldn't do it."
Willow smiled. "He brought me water. Risked his life to do it. Do you think he likes pancakes?"
"Who doesn't like pancakes?"
"Um...can I ask you a question? And I want a serious answer."
"Sure."
"How do I look?"
"How do you look?"
"Yeah. I mean...do I look...okay? I wanna, um...I wanna look good when I see Oz."
"Oh my God you have a crush on Oz," Buffy said.
Willow gasped. "I don't have a crush on Oz!"
Buffy pointed at her. "You so have a crush on Oz!"
"Okay...maybe I have a little crush on Oz," Willow said. "But look...I can't...think about that stuff. Yeah, okay, big giant apocalypse and maybe we're all gonna die? Seems like a good time for some end of the world smoochin'. But...it's only been a couple weeks since...Xander..."
Buffy stopped smiling. Her face turned red. She brought Willow closer to her.
"Yeah," Buffy said. "I'm sorry, Will. I don't know what the hell I was just thinking."
"It just feels like...like we're all forgetting him," Willow said. "Faith's here now, and Becca, and Giles is gone...and we have Tara now, and Oz, and the apocalypse is here, and...and it just feels like...like everything is changed. Like everything is new. Like we're moving on to the next stage of our lives. Even though maybe there won't be any more stages in a couple of days. Everything feels different. But I miss him, Buffy. Even though the First was Xander when I was in the closet I still miss him and..."
"I miss him too," Buffy said.
"Why did he have to be such a fucking idiot that last day? Why did he have to be so... why did he always have to..."
"I can't cry," Willow said, and quickly wiped her tears away. "No crying in front of Anna."
"Will...it's only been a couple of weeks. You loved him. You're gonna cry sometimes."
Willow shook her head. "We've got two days until we gotta fight. Until we gotta fight and maybe die. If they're the last two days I'm ever gonna have with Anna then I'm not gonna cry. I'm gonna be happy for her. So tell me how I look. I mean, I'm not sayin' I wanna boink Oz or anything, but I like him and I don't wanna look all wrinkled up and ugly in front of him."
"You could never look ugly."
"Sol told me about some of the effects of dehydration. He said I'm out of the woods, but...is my skin all wrinkly still?"
Buffy smiled. "You look beautiful, Will," she said.
Annabelle woke up in Buffy's arms.
"Pancakes?" Annabelle said.
"There's my lil' Anna Belly!" Willow said, and smiled, and kissed Annabelle's nose. "It's time for breakfast, sweetie. We got pancakes, bacon, toast, we're gonna make hot cocoa..."
"Pop tarts?" Annabelle said, and squirmed around in Buffy's arms, trying to reach Willow. Buffy let Annabelle get close to Willow, but she didn't let go of her. She knew for a fact Willow wouldn't be able to support Annabelle's weight. Willow could barely even stand on her own right now.
"Pancakes," Willow said, grinning as she touched her nose to Annabelle's, and shook her head.
"Pop tarts!" Annabelle said, touching her nose to Willow's, and nodding her head.
"Pancakes," Willow said, still shaking her head.
"Pop tarts!" Annabelle shouted, giggling now as she nodded.
"Pancakes and pop tarts," Willow said. They both nodded together.
"What on Earth do you think you're doing?" Rebecca said, rushing into the room. "You're supposed to be in bed, Willow!"
"Cooking breakfast," Willow said. "I feel okay. You want some pancakes?"
"You're not okay, you're barely able to stand," Rebecca said. "Back to bed, let's go."
"But I wanna...I wanna cook breakfast for Anna," Willow said.
As Rebecca watched her, Willow suddenly seemed on the verge of tears. Rebecca noticed Buffy was supporting her weight, and holding on to Annabelle too. Annabelle, for her part, seemed to understand now that something was wrong. She looked from Willow to Rebecca, trying to read their expressions.
"Please, Becca?" Willow whispered. "I just...I missed cooking for Anna."
"But after breakfast, it's back to bed with you," Rebecca said, and rubbed Willow's shoulder. "All right?"
Willow smiled. "Okay. And you gotta stay and have breakfast with us too. I know you like pancakes. We'll all have an awesome breakfast together."
"Excellent," Rebecca said, and started stroking Annabelle's hair. Annabelle relaxed. "Just don't ask me to help with the cooking. You know unfortunate things happen when I cook."
Willow giggled. "Yeah. Like last Christmas, with the ham? That poor ham. I still feel bad for that ham. Can I ask you a question? How do I look?"
"How do you look?"
"Yeah. I mean...do I look okay? Am I all like, wrinkly and stuff?"
Buffy smiled. "Oz," she said.
"Ah, I see," Rebecca said. "Does this mean Willow won't be invited to the boinking party?"
"What?" Willow said, and started giggling.
"Oh my God," Buffy muttered, and hung her head.
"A boinking party?" Annabelle said.
"Do I wanna know what this is about?" Willow said. "Do I want any part of this at all?"
"No," Buffy said.
"I'm afraid I haven't the slightest idea what the word means anyway," Rebecca said. "And you look beautiful, Willow. Though we'll have to get you out of that hospital gown. Say what you like about Cordelia's unfortunate lack of manners but the girl has smashing taste in clothes. You'd look wonderful in her green Dior dress."
"Me borrowing one of Cordy's dresses," Willow said. "Yup, the world's ending. And okay, I just wanna make it totally clear here that I'm not like, trying to flirt with Oz. I liked him back when I met him last year and I like him now but...I just lost Xander and I'm not in the market for a boyfriend. I just...don't wanna look all gross in front of Oz, that's all."
"I understand, darling," Rebecca said, and kissed her cheek. "There's no reason you can't get dressed up."
"The really fun thing about this place compared to the hospital is how the patients all suddenly get up out of bed and start playing hide and seek," Sol said, coming into the room with a stethoscope slung around his neck, and carrying one of those blood pressure testing devices that wrapped around your arm like a cuff. He stood beside Willow, and smiled.
"Hi , Sol," Willow said.
"Hi, Willow," Sol said. "I see you disconnected yourself from your monitors. Hey, that's awesome. How about we all go out and shoot some hoops. Maybe have a few beers afterwards."
"Want some pancakes?" Willow said.
"Gimme your arm," Sol said.
Willow held out her arm. She was used to the routine now. Sol wrapped the blood pressure cuff around her upper arm, inserted the stethoscope, inflated the cuff, and listened.
"So how's it working out for you, now that you've got your medical license?" Sol said. "What's your specialty gonna be? I'm a general practitioner myself, that's where the action is. But out here in California you can't go wrong being a plastic surgeon if you just wanna make piles of money. Lots of rich old ladies want butt surgery."
"Butt surgery?" Annabelle said.
"I don't have a medical license," Willow said. "It's really cute, how you get like this sometimes. You like pancakes?"
"You don't have a medical license?" Sol said. "And yet you unhooked yourself from the monitors and got out of bed and walked around when your doctor specifically told you not to? I'm gonna show you my special crossover dribble move when we shoot hoops. I like pancakes."
"I got a crossover dribble move," Willow said. "Got bacon too. You want bacon? Never met a guy who didn't like bacon."
"Bacon's good." Sol deflated the cuff. "When's the part where you actually do what I tell you and go back to bed?"
"She's going back to bed after breakfast," Rebecca said. "And she's staying there."
"With just another little break tonight to cook supper for Anna," Willow said, and flashed Rebecca her ultra-cute smile, the one she always used when she needed people to do things for her. Rebecca raised her eyebrow at her, but in that specific way that Willow knew meant she was willing to bend a tiny bit. "What's my blood pressure, doc?"
"Ninety over sixty," Sol said. "Still low. But getting better."
"How much longer I gotta be hooked up to the IV? It's all pinchy. And I wanna take a bath and put some clothes on. Maybe a green Dior dress. Hey, can you tell me how I look? I mean...am I all wrinkly? You said dehydration makes you wrinkly when your skin dries out. You said I lost weight too. How do I look?"
"You look great," Sol said. "If you stay off your feet, drink plenty of fluids and only eat mushy food, I can take you off the IV tonight."
"But I can't have any pot, right?" Willow said, and smiled, and looked from Sol to Rebecca. "Just checking."
"I want pot!" Annabelle said.
"Oh yeah, Annie's definitely a mini-Willow now," Cordy said as she came into the kitchen looking fabulous in Capri pants and a cropped black blazer with a fitted cream-colored tee-shirt underneath, a beaded amethyst necklace, and designer jeweled flip-flops. Buffy was very conscious of her sweatpants and her Go Razorbacks! tee-shirt and her sneakers. And of the fact that Cordy was sleeping with Angel now.
"You want pancakes, Cordy?" Willow said.
"I can do pancakes," Cordy said. "We have maple syrup?"
"Yeah. I wanna thank you for watching Anna for me," Willow said. "It means a lot to me, how you took care of her while I was...y'know."
"Aw, I love watching Annie!" Cordy said, and took Annabelle from Buffy, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Annabelle giggled and threw her arms around her. "Annie and I just have so much fun."
"Okay, I'm just gonna skedaddle off to Mexico now," Buffy said.
"As much as I'm really curious to explore this topic, I need to ask you for a favor first, Cordy," Willow said.
"What's the favor?" Cordy said.
"Willow will be needing your green Dior dress tomorrow, " Rebecca said. "And she'd quite fancy that Amethyst necklace to go with it."
"My green Dior dress?" Cordy said. "But that's my favorite..." Rebecca frowned at her. Cordy sighed. "Fine," Cordy muttered. "And the amethyst necklace?"
"And you and I are gonna work on her hair and makeup," Buffy said. "We're gonna make her super-fab."
"I'm letting Willow Rosenberg borrow one of my dresses," Cordy said. "Yup, the world's ending. This is about that Oz guy, right? And are we sure we all understand that he's a were...uh...an erewolf-way?"
"Got a dungeon in the cellar, and we're gonna give you the tranq gun so you can keep him asleep when he changes," Buffy said.
"Cordy, this isn't about Oz," Willow said. "Okay...it's about Oz but...there was this guy, maybe you've heard of him, his name was Xander? I'm not looking for a hot date. I just... y'know...don't wanna look all lame in front of Oz, that's all. Which brings me to the actual favor I wanted to ask you, which isn't for you to give me a super-fab makeover. What I wanted was for you to just tell me how I look."
"Tell you how you look?" Cordy said. "Since when have you ever wanted to hear what I have to say?"
Willow turned and looked at her.
"Buffy and Becca and Sol won't give me a straight answer and I want to know," Willow said. "How do I really look? Hit me with your best shot."
"Your skin's a little wrinkled still around your eyes but it's already a lot better than yesterday," Cordy said. "If it keeps getting better at this rate you'll look fine by tomorrow, and if you're not quite there yet we can cover with makeup no problem. Your skin was all yellowish looking yesterday but today your skin tone looks a million times better. Your eyes still look a little sunken in and you lost some weight in your cheeks. But you look okay, Willow. I know you must think you look like a zombie or something after what happened but you don't. The real problem is your hair. Your hair's a disaster area. But Buffy and I can take care of that. Looks like you lost about a cup size too by the way. But don't worry, you're not flat like Buffy or anything. You had boobs to spare anyway."
"Thanks, Cordy," Willow said. "I knew I could count on you to tell me the truth and find a way to insult Buffy's cleavage at the same time."
"Awesome," Buffy said. "This is the best day ever. I think I want some pot too."
"So do I, believe me," Oz said, as he wandered into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and yawning, still dressed in the same ripped jeans and Doc Marten boots he had been wearing two days before, but with one of Angel's black tee-shirts hanging down to the tops of his thighs.
"Oz!" Willow said, practically dancing with glee. "There's my favorite wolfy guy."
"Hey," Oz said. "You feeling okay? You look good."
"I'll feel great once you come over here and gimme me a big hug," Willow said, and held out her arm.
"Cool," Oz said, as Willow hugged him. "Free room and board, hugs, this place is great."
Willow ran her fingers through his hair.
"I love this hair," Willow said. "In fact, I absolutely adore this hair."
"You should see it when I actually wash it," Oz said.
"Oz," Willow said. "I just wanted to say...thank you for..."
"It's cool," Oz said. "Just being a human being."
"An awesome human being," Willow said. "An awesome human being with awesome hair." She kissed his cheek, and giggled, and hugged him again...
And looked up, and saw Tara.
"Um...hi," Tara said.
Tara stood at the entrance to the room, in her nightgown and her socks, blushing.
When Willow saw her, she blushed too.
"Hey!" Willow said, and tried to keep smiling. "Um...Tara...have you...met Oz...?"
Tara smiled too, a thin, tight little smile. She met Oz's eyes for a moment, then immediately looked back down again. She stood there, fidgeting with her hair.
"Yeah," Tara said, and kept on fidgeting with her hair, as if she was trying to cover her face with it. "Wolf guy, but nice. Hi, Oz."
"Hi," Oz said. "Yeah, Tara was a little freaked out about me at first. I have that effect on people. We're good now."
"Sorry about freaking," Tara said. "I'm j-just a Milwaukee girl, all this stuff is pretty new to me. Yeah, um...sorry, I heard you guys in here and I w-wanted to see how Willow was. Um... you know what? I just remembered I forgot my...I mean..."
"Tara, have breakfast with us?" Willow said. "I'm makin' pancakes."
"I'm...not really hungry and...I just remembered my...I mean...I gotta get my...I gotta get dressed. I'm totally not dressed. Let me just put some clothes on and...I'll be back."
She turned around and walked away.
Willow didn't smile, during breakfast. As everyone else laughed and joked, and Buffy grilled Oz like a mother talking to the new boyfriend her daughter had just brought home, Willow felt like a bird in a cage.
Tara never came back.
Every time Willow looked at Oz, and knew she wanted him, she remembered Xander... she remembered the day he left her. She remembered his dead body, lying in the dirt in Giles' yard, wrapped in a sheet, next to a little patch of azaleas...
Xander's body smelled like urine and excrement. When she burned him, he smelled like cooking meat.
It was the last experience Willow had with Xander...her last memory of him. She knew she would always remember him that way now. Wrapped in a sheet, lying with the azaleas. Smelling like piss and shit.
Faith was still asleep, and Willow wished she was there. She liked having Faith close to her. She knew Faith, better than anyone, and she liked to think Faith knew her, too. Faith would know what she should do...
Willow had wanted to sit next to Oz when she ate, but she made herself sit between Buffy and Cordy instead, because she felt guilty for wanting to sit next to Oz. She kept Annabelle on her lap, and watched her eat, and wondered what to do...wondered what Faith would do.
Willow knew the Faith part of her was the stronger part. The Willow part wanted to avoid problems, wanted to lie, wanted to run away, but the Faith part of her always faced problems head-on. Faith would know what she should do. Willow knew sending someone to find Tara would just embarrass her, so she didn't. But she was tempted to have Buffy find Faith. She didn't though, because she knew Faith needed to rest. Faith had been awake nearly ceaselessly since Willow had left the house six days before, and so had everybody else. Cordy said Angel was getting some rest now too, and Willow told everyone at breakfast that she expected them all to go to bed after they ate.
"I'm doing the scowly face," Willow warned, as she told them all she wanted them to get some sleep, and did the scowly face.
Willow didn't talk much at breakfast. She kissed Annabelle's hair, and jiggled her around in her lap, and made sure Annabelle finished her pancakes before she had a pop tart. She laughed at people's jokes, and tried to be pleasant as she ignored everyone but Annabelle and spent her time thinking about Xander and Tara...and Oz. She knew it was strange, that she was ignoring Oz even as she was obsessing over him, but Willow knew she worked in mysterious ways.
Willow remembered what Faith had said to her, after they had nearly made love in the Wal-Mart...what Faith had learned from the other Willow...the Willow from the future. The woman Willow knew she would be someday.
It's her, Willow. Tara's the one who's gonna make you happy. The love of your life.
Sitting there at the table, watching Oz without trying to be too obvious about it, Willow realized she didn't like the idea that the future was already written. She didn't like feeling like she didn't have a choice.
Don't like feelin' boxed in, Willow thought. She knew it was the Faith part of her who thought that, but the Willow part agreed with her. She thought someday she might become a combination of her two selves, rather than taking refuge in either one or the other. She thought someday she might take the best of Willow, the best of Faith, and be a better person for it.
She thought about choices. On their last day together, Xander had left her. He couldn't love her for who she was. And she was never his first choice anyway. Buffy was. If Buffy had given him a chance, Willow knew Xander never would have bothered with her...never would have loved her. Maybe he never really had anyway.
When we talked last night...what you said, about being everyone's second choice, she remembered Tara whispering to her, the day before she let herself get captured. Xander's, Faith's. Baby, you're not my second choice. You've been my first choice, my whole life.
It had been Xander. But Willow realized now that the girl she was when she wanted him, when she chose him, was gone now. That girl had been gone for a long time...Willow had left her behind, even before she and Xander had dated. That was why they broke up, Willow knew. She had changed, while Xander had stayed the same.
Everything in the world comes from love, Buffy, Willow remembered herself saying, that very morning. Love...or the absence of it. People do desperate things for their love. And they do desperate things when they don't have love, too...
And she also knew that the future wasn't written. There was no guarantee they would survive the coming battle. No guarantee she would ever become the Willow who had loved Tara...maybe that Willow was already gone. Lost now, irretrievably. Half the population of the world was gone now. Society was crumbling. How could anything go back to the way it was before, even if they did manage to win?
The closet had almost destroyed her. But Willow thought she had found herself in there, too...the closer she came to death in there, the more she lost of herself, the more she found. Willow felt like she had discarded all the nonessential things, in the closet. For the first time since receiving Faith's memories--for the first time in her life, in fact--Willow felt like she knew who she was.
She only wished she knew what she wanted...who she wanted.
"Damn," Faith said. "This girl's in a trance. Becca, you put her under a spell or what?"
"I might have," Willow heard Rebecca saying, as she turned in her chair, and suddenly saw Faith standing behind her, grinning. "I apparently turned Buffy to stone before."
"I'll give you a million bucks right now if you stop the story right there," Buffy said.
"But I'm already quite well off," Rebecca said.
"Faith!" Willow squealed, and held out her arms. "C'mere, sweetie. I need a hug."
"I'm always packin' a hug for you, Will," Faith said, and gave her a gentle hug, making certain not to tangle Willow's IV wires. "And a kiss for little bananas," Faith added, and kissed Annabelle on the forehead. "Hey, is that a pop tart? Think I might have to steal it."
Annabelle covered her pop tart, and giggled.
"How you feelin', auntie?" Faith said, smiling down at Willow. "You look like a million bucks."
"Feelin' awesome now," Willow said, and smiled.
Willow spent the rest of that day in bed, and Annabelle never left her side. Willow got to leave the bed to go to the bathroom--Sol told her it was a good sign, that she was going to the bathroom again--and she got to take one quick break to cook supper for Annabelle under Rebecca's supervision, and then it was back to bed. There was always someone with her in the room, watching her and seeing to her needs. Faith, Buffy, and Rebecca had already taken turns watching her. Willow didn't let any of them stay too long because they were all plainly exhausted. Sol came in every hour like clockwork to check on her, and Annabelle read her Doctor Seuss stories and made sure she had plenty of juice.
Tara didn't come. Willow hadn't seen her since that morning.
Willow slept, sometimes. She'd be listening to Annabelle read her a Doctor Seuss book, and then suddenly it would be a few hours later and Annabelle would be reading a different Doctor Seuss book.
Willow heard music.
She opened her eyes. She had fallen asleep again. The room was dark. The lights were out. Only one small lamp in the corner was turned on; it gave off a soft, golden glow. The room was a series of disconnected, shadowy shapes; a jigsaw puzzle. The pieces fit together only slowly, coalescing beneath that soft, golden light...
There was music, coming from somewhere...
Willow didn't know why it took her so long to focus at first, then after a moment she realized Sol must have given her more morphine at some point. She looked around the room again. When she looked around, everything seemed like it was in slow motion. Willow saw Annabelle, dancing in the dark. And then there was that music, again...it was a guitar sound.
Willow watched Annabelle, as she danced. Annabelle was laughing and jumping and twirling around in her cow pajamas, wiggling her hips and clapping her hands to the music...
Right then, Willow knew she loved Annabelle more than anything in the world.
"Hi, sweetie," Willow whispered.
Annabelle looked over at her, and smiled. She ran back to the bed, jumped in beside Willow, and curled up against her.
The music stopped.
"Hey," a voice said. "How are you feeling?"
Willow looked around again. The room went by in slow motion, as if she was riding on a carousel and it was all spinning away.
Then she saw Oz. He was standing to her left, holding his guitar. Willow smiled.
"How long have you been here?" Willow said. "It was Cordy before...I think."
"Cordy was two people ago," Annabelle said. "I was dancing!"
"I know sweetie, I was just watching you," Willow said. "You were awesome. You're my little disco queen. Was Tara here?"
Annabelle shook her head.
"I got here a couple hours ago," Oz said. "I've been doing requests for Annie. She's a big George Clinton fan. She's way into funk. She can really shake it when she dances. Got kind of a macarena thing going on."
"Anna likes funk?" Willow said. She looked over at Annabelle. "You like funk?"
"Fuck?" Annabelle said.
"Funk," Willow said.
"Fuck!" Annabelle said, and giggled.
"Truck," Willow said, and touched her nose to Annabelle's, and shook her head.
"Truck!" Annabelle said, giggling even louder, and nodding.
"Okay, maybe she's not so into George Clinton," Oz said. "She totally digs my version of 'On Top of Spaghetti' though. "Also, 'Have You Never Been Mellow' by Olivia Newton John."
"You play Olivia Newton John songs?" Willow said.
"I'm eclectic," Oz said.
Willow laughed. She took his hand. She noticed she wasn't hooked up to the IV unit anymore. Annabelle started singing.
"Have you never been mell-ow?" Annabelle sang, giggling in Willow's ear.
"Why didn't you ask me out last year?" Willow said.
"Would you have said yes?" Oz said.
"Yeah," Willow said. "I was kinda thinking you were gonna ask, but then...you took off."
"Have you never tri-iii-iii-iiiiiied..." Annabelle sang. Willow hugged her, and tickled her stomach. "To find a comfort from insi-iii-iii-iiiiiide you..." Annabelle went on, squirming around in Willow's arms and giggling louder.
"I wanted to ask," Oz said. "I just thought...after you found out about me...about how I get, uh, at that time of the month..."
"You should see how I get at that time of the month. I don't care about that. You told us last year that it's just one day, right? And it's not even all day long, just while it's dark. So really like, just twelve hours. You're awesome the rest of the time."
"Willow...I know about you and Xander. It's cool if...you just wanna chill and be friends."
Willow thought about choices...she wondered how her life would have gone if Oz had asked her out the year before.
"Have you never been happy?" Annabelle sang.
Willow thought it would have been a better life. She thought she would have been happy.
Maybe she could only have that better life for two days...but she wanted it.
She hesitated. She thought about Tara...and the future Faith had told her about...
But she didn't even know if there was going to be a future, now...for any of them.
Willow made a choice.
"The apocalypse is here and in two days who knows what's gonna happen," Willow said. "Ask me out."
Oz leaned in close to her.
"You wanna grab some dinner with me tomorrow night?" he said.
"Thanksgiving leftovers?" Willow said. "Be still my heart. Where's my French restaurant? And my horse carriage ride?"
"Cordy says there's gonna be candied yams."
"Can't say no to yams."
They were still holding hands. She pulled him closer.
"Will you promise to play your guitar for me?" Willow said. "I like George Clinton. And I solemnly swear to not look like the Sea Hag from Popeye anymore. I'm gonna like, take a bath and brush my hair and everything. Who knows, I might even change out of this nightgown. But you gotta play your guitar for me. Guitar's a deal breaker."
"I solemnly swear to rock your world," Oz said. "And I always thought you're beautiful, Willow. Tomorrow night? Full moon doesn't come up until about seven the next morning so we'll have some time before I gotta go in the doghouse."
"It's a date," Willow said.
"I do not like green eggs and ham," Annabelle said. "I do not like them, Sam-I-Am."
Willow opened her eyes. She had fallen asleep again...she wasn't hooked up to the IV unit anymore and she could have juice and soup now, but even though Sol kept telling her every time he woke her up to take her vitals that she was getting steadily stronger, she was still tired most of the time. She had been talking to Oz...she wasn't sure how long ago that was.
She looked around. The room didn't look blurry this time. Things weren't in slow motion. The drugs were wearing off.
"Would you? Could you? In a car?" a voice said. The voice was giggling. "Eat them! Eat them! Here they are."
Willow saw Annabelle sitting in the chair next to the bed, in Tara's lap. They were reading Doctor Seuss together.
"I would not, could not, in a car," Annabelle said.
Willow watched them, as they read together. Annabelle sat in Tara's lap in her cow pajamas, looking down at the book, her little brow furrowed. She was licking her lips, the way she always did when she concentrated.
"You may like them, you will see," Tara said, and smiled. "You may like them in a tree!"
"Do you like meat loaf and string beans?" Willow whispered.
"No!" Annabelle shouted, looking up from the book and giggling. "I do not like them in a house. I do not like them with a mouse!"
"Do you like them with pop tarts?"
Annabelle nodded.
"She doesn't like meat loaf and string beans?" Tara said.
"Nope," Willow said. "We had the big meat loaf and string beans debate when I cooked dinner. Faith and I were pro meatloaf. Not that Sol would have actually let me have any of it or anything, but still. Buffy and Anna were firmly against it."
"Me and Bunny don't like meatloaf," Annabelle said, and stuck out her tongue. "We don't like it in a box. We don't like it with a fox!"
"You could've maybe swung the debate if, y'know, you were around," Willow said.
"I was...getting some sleep," Tara said.
Willow nodded. "I'm glad you're here now. I missed you today. You never came back to breakfast."
"Yeah, um...sorry. Anna came and got me a little while ago, she said you wanted to talk to me. She did that cute scowly face thing like you do? I swear it's like she's your daughter."
"Yeah. Look, I wanna talk to you? So our two choices are, we talk in code or..." Willow reached out to Annabelle. Annabelle climbed into the bed with her. "Or my lil' pop tart belly has a nice visit with Auntie Cordy before bedtime." She smiled at Annabelle, and kissed her cheek. "It's almost bedtime, sweetie. I want you to say goodnight to Auntie Cordy, okay?"
Annabelle nodded, and yawned.
"Tara, could you...?" Willow said.
Tara nodded, picked Annabelle up in her arms, and walked out.
Willow waited. She laid there in the dark, and wondered exactly what she would say...
"I'm straight," Willow whispered, into the darkness. "I can't let Faith's memories confuse me. I can't live my life by her feelings. I gotta...I gotta be Willow."
And the darkness whispered back...
"Love's a bitch, Will," the darkness said.
Willow looked up, and saw Xander standing over the bed, coalescing out of the shadows...darkness taking on form.
"Get out," Willow said.
"Nah," Xander said. "I've been waiting all frigging day for you to be alone so we could talk. I've got about a five-minute window here to say my piece."
"Fine," Willow said. "Say your piece and then leave."
"How are you feeling?" Xander said. "You look a lot better."
Willow didn't bother responding to that. She looked up at the ceiling.
"When Faith took you from me yesterday, I could've fought," Xander said. "I could've called in dozens more vamps, demons too. Faith only had Rebecca, Angel and one Initiative guy with her. I could've fought, Will. I could've killed the four of them and kept you. I didn't. Because I'm Xander. I feel the things he felt...so I let you go."
"After you let a bunch of people piss on me for five days," Willow said.
"I know you won't believe this, but that was hard for me."
"You're right. I don't believe it. What the fuck do you want?"
"I could've killed you the day I captured you. I knew it was the right play. If I had just killed you then, game over. I win. But I just couldn't make myself do it. The more I get to know you guys, the more I take these forms, the forms of people you loved, and who loved you back, the more I learn...that everything comes down to love. And love's a bitch. You can't help who you love, Willow. You can't help what it drives you to. I love you."
Willow turned away from him.
"Go fuck yourself," she said.
"You never could pull that off," Xander said. "Swearing. Just never sounds right coming from you. I love you for who you are. You don't need to act like Faith. "
"You never loved me for who I am," Willow said, still not looking at him. "You dumped me when I was trying to be who I really am. And then when you captured me you let people...let people hurt me. Yeah, you acted all like it hurt your feelings but that still didn't stop you. When you were appearing as Buffy all the time I saw the way you were around Faith, you couldn't hurt a hair on her head. When you were being Buffy you never would've locked Faith up and let someone piss in her mouth. But, when you were being Xander? Hey, no problem doing that stuff to me. Buffy loves Faith but I guess Xander didn't love me, huh? Figures."
"He loved you, Will," Xander said. "I love you. I love you enough to lose you."
"Whatever," Willow said. "You almost done?"
"A lot of people love you, Will. You think you're alone, you've always thought you were alone, but you're not."
"Great. Gettin' a pep talk from the most evil thing in the universe. Do I look that fucking desperate to you? I don't need your charity, Xander. You didn't love me, I get it. Movin' on."
"I do love you. He did love you. But he was never the one, Will. He was never the one you could be happy with. Toward the end, he knew it. So I know it. He didn't want to leave you. Xander left you because he knew who you really love, and Xander loved you enough to lose you. And I love you enough to give you this warning. I can see a little bit of the future. Now I'm gonna prove it to you. The book says you need to do the ceremony on holy ground, right? Consecrated ground, a church. But you're gonna need a defensible place too. Riley and his guys are looking around for a place now and they're keeping in touch with Rebecca and Faith. Tomorrow Rebecca's gonna tell you that they've found a place, an old fort in Los Angeles that was used during the Mexican-American War, called Fort Moore. It has a chapel. You guys are gonna make your stand against me there."
"You're telling me this why?"
"Because I love you and I don't want you to have to see all your friends die. I've been preparing for this. I have tens of thousands of vampires, tens of thousands of demons, they've been on their way here for a week. You've got two Slayers, a vampire, a witch, and a couple hundred of those Initiative guys. The Initiative guys will bring weapons, grenade launchers and flamethrowers and stuff, but even with their weapons, even with Tara casting energy shields, your friends will last about fifteen minutes. They're all gonna die, Will. You're leading them into a slaughter. My deal's still on the table for now, but once you guys get to the fort, I'm done dealing. You wanna talk about love? If you love your friends, don't let them get slaughtered. Take my deal. If you don't, they'll all die at the fort. Rebecca, Buffy, Tara, Angel...Faith."
"You done?" Willow said.
"You like this Oz guy?" Xander said.
"Yeah."
"I spied on you guys before. Heard you talking about how he almost asked you out last year. How you wished he did. I never knew that. Xander never met the guy so he never knew you had a thing for him. It's the hair, huh? You always liked guys with cool hair."
"It's the fact that Oz actually likes me for me. I wish he did ask me out back then. Then maybe I would've been happy."
Xander smiled.
"You know, that actually hurt me?" he said. "I mean, physically. I felt it in my chest...like a knife in my heart. Love's a bitch."
Willow looked up at the ceiling again.
"All Xander ever wanted was for you to be happy, Will," Xander said. "Yeah, he could screw things up, he could be dumb, he could be stubborn, he could be insensitive, he could be selfish. He hurt you sometimes. But in the end, he got himself killed trying to protect you."
"Maybe if I was with Oz instead then Xander would still be alive today," Willow said. "Maybe...it was a mistake, me and Xander trying to be more than friends. Maybe some things... just aren't meant to be."
"Maybe," Xander said. "But if Xander had a chance to do it all over again? Knowing that if he was with you he'd only get to be with you for a little while, knowing he'd die young, even knowing you'd eventually fall for Faith? He still wouldn't change a thing, Will. I know you don't believe me. But it's true. Anyway...gotta go. Take care."
"Xander, wait--" Willow said, turning back to him.
But he was gone.
Willow laid in bed in the dark.
A moment later, Tara came back into the room.
"Okay, Anna's hangin' with Cordy for awhile," Tara said. "So...you wanted to talk?"
Willow looked at her. Tara stood in the dark, wearing a flannel nightgown and socks. And the necklace.
"How come you never get dressed?" Willow said. "You've been in your pajamas for like a week."
"What?" Tara said.
"Don't you wanna wear like...I don't know, a skirt or a pretty dress maybe?"
"This is what you wanted to talk about," Tara said, and sat in the chair by Willow's bed. "Fashion tips. Does my hair suck too?"
"We gotta practice energy shields tomorrow," Willow said. "We've only got a day and we're gonna need you to be able to do an energy shield."
"Okay."
"We're gonna have to practice like, all day."
"Okay."
"You left at breakfast because of Oz. I thought...I mean...we've been back and forth on this, Tara. First you say you don't want me bein' all into you because it's only Faith's memories and it's not real. Then you get jealous when I give Oz like, an innocent hug. It's not like I was jumping his bones in there. So which is it? Do you want me to like you or not? Are you pissed because the Faith part of me likes you or are you pissed because the Willow part likes Oz?"
Tara was fingering the crystal pendant on her necklace. It pulsed silver in the dark, in a steady rhythm, like a beating heart.
"Okay...you just said like five different huge things and I'm gonna need a minute to think about it all," Tara said. "Look...it's just..."
Willow looked up at the ceiling again.
"I'm straight," Willow said. "I don't...I don't like girls, Tara. That's the Faith part of me that's all...bi-curious. I love Faith, and I love the Faith part of me too, but...I'm sorta tryin' to find the Willow part again. And I'm not...I mean I care about you as a friend but...I'm not attracted to you that way. Tomorrow night, after we practice energy shields, Oz and I are going on a date. It isn't a hook-up. I'm not tryin' to boink someone because we might all be about to die. I always liked Oz. I met him a year ago and I liked him then too and I always wanted him to ask me out. We're just gonna hang out together, nothing's gonna happen. I just wanted to tell you because...I owe you that."
Tara was still fingering the crystal pendant. The room was dark, but the pendant illuminated her face, and her blue eyes...Willow saw tears in Tara's eyes.
But Tara smiled. She stood up.
"Well, I guess...there's n-nothing more to say, huh?" Tara said.
"I don't want us to stop being friends, Tara," Willow said.
"Yeah," Tara said. "I'll go get Anna."
She turned around, and walked away.
The next day, Sol finally had mercy on Willow and allowed her to get out of bed and walk around as long as she took frequent breaks to rest and there was always someone with her, and he let her eat real food too, in moderation. Willow cooked breakfast for Annabelle and allowed herself a pancake that was the single best pancake she had ever tasted, and two divinely greasy strips of bacon. She was able to take off her bandages and take a bath that morning too, and put on actual clothes. When she looked in the mirror, bracing herself for a shock, Willow was pleasantly surprised to find she didn't look so bad. Her broken bones--her fingers, her toe, one of her ribs according to Sol--were all healed. The surgery scar was gone, without a trace: Rebecca had completely healed it while she slept. Willow's sores and bruises were all gone too, as if they had never been there. Rebecca was a better witch than she gave herself credit for, Willow thought. The missing tooth hadn't healed, but it was toward the back of her mouth anyway and she couldn't notice it when she smiled, and Willow thought getting out of the First's clutches with only a missing tooth to show for it was getting off cheap anyway. Willow looked a little on the skinny side when she saw herself in the mirror, and her hair looked like someone had stuck a haystack to her head, but her face wasn't wrinkled at least. Her boobs were definitely smaller though. That was annoying, especially when she had a date that night.
Willow and Tara practiced energy shields in the living room, because Willow was sick of her bedroom, and Annabelle stayed with them. Willow did jigsaw puzzles with Annabelle and guided Tara through the meditations necessary to focus energy in particular frequencies. She ate the best peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the history of the world as she did it. In the room that wasn't exactly a kitchen, Buffy and Oz and Faith and Sol were making Thanksgiving dinner, while Rebecca was on the radio checking in with Riley's teams as they searched for a suitable site for the ceremony, and keeping herself far away from the cooking. The food all smelled the way Heaven would smell if it were made out of food, and right then Willow thought Heaven probably was made out of food. Willow didn't know where Cordy and Angel were. She hadn't seen much of either of them.
Tara didn't talk much. She did what Willow told her, followed Willow's lead when they meditated, and didn't make conversation. She wore a nightgown and flannel socks and no makeup and she kept her hair back in a long ponytail. And she wore the necklace; she always did. It sparked and flashed like a lit fuse as Tara meditated.
Tara was a quick study. She hadn't mastered shields yet because she had been going about it the wrong way, making the same mistake Willow herself had made before, Willow noticed--Tara hadn't been allowing herself to become emotionally involved, she had been looking at it like it was a math problem. But energy shields were built out of will. Once Willow got her heading in the right direction Tara had her first stable shield within an hour, and they just kept getting stronger. By the time Thanksgiving dinner was ready Tara's shields were nearly half as strong as Willow's and she had mastered changing their frequencies too.
And it very quickly became apparent to Willow that Tara was better than she was at manipulating the frequencies of the shields. Willow's shields were much more powerful than Tara's, they could take more punishment and they lasted longer, but Tara's shields were much more precise: Tara could create a shield that merely repelled anything that touched it, or a shield that gave off an electric shock, or a shield that generated heat or cold. She could create tiny spheres of energy that she could propel forward at great speed like projectiles, and she could maintain multiple shields at the same time while Willow could only maintain one. After seven hours of practice Tara was able to consistently maintain four shields at once. Tara could change a shield's properties while it was in place, while Willow would have to dissipate a shield and then reform it to change it. Tara could change an electrical barrier to a heat barrier and back again without having to dissipate the shield. Tara could even create a shield within a shield; she could create a shield four layers thick. You peeled one layer away and the next layer popped up, like an onion. Most impressive of all, Tara could create a shield that focused all its energy on the precise spot that was being attacked, so it held longer. Willow couldn't do any of those things and she couldn't begin to explain how Tara could after only seven hours of practice. Tara just seemed to have an aptitude for it. And even though Willow's shields were more powerful, Willow wasn't at all certain that would last. At the rate Tara was progressing after only seven hours, Willow thought Tara's shields might surpass the strength of her own shields very soon.
After a couple more hours of practicing, they took a break to eat dinner, and when Tara stood up, she nearly fainted. Her legs buckled. Willow caught her before she fell.
"Okay...why didn't you tell me what this was doing to you?" Willow said, after she sat Tara down on the couch. "Why didn't you ask to stop?"
"I'm okay," Tara said. "Just need some food in me. Don't tell anyone. I don't want anyone to worry."
"Tara," Willow said, and took her hand. Tara's hand was trembling. "Sweetie, it's great that you're doing your best to help, but you're no use to us exhausted."
"Look, we need me to be able to do this, right?" Tara snapped, and yanked her hand away. "I wanna be able to pull my own weight around here. I'm not just here to be everybody's fucking pal. I'm not the mascot. I wanna be useful. I said I'll be fine. Let's go eat."
Tara tried to get up and walk away. Her legs buckled again. Willow caught her again.
They knelt on the floor together. Tara blushed.
"Storming off in a huff doesn't seem to be working so well for me," Tara said.
"So don't storm off," Willow said. "Let me help you. Lean on me."
"I'm sorry I swore at you."
"It's okay. Will you let me help you? Please?"
Tara nodded. Willow helped her up again, and walked her to the kitchen.
Willow had never been a fan of Thanksgiving. It never really seemed like a holiday. There were no candles, no presents, no decorations, no costumes, none of the things that made holidays fun. In Willow's experience, Thanksgiving was the day you were forced to eat a long, boring meal with people you would never voluntarily choose to eat with. At Thanksgiving she and all her annoying relatives would eat food together and then there was some small talk over dessert, and usually at least one heated argument about politics or religion, and then everybody broke up into little groups to watch TV and felt sleepy from all the food and eventually everybody went home and the ordeal was over for another year. And Willow didn't even like turkey very much. She only really ate it once a year, at Thanksgiving.
This Thanksgiving was a little different. For one thing, Angel was there, sitting at the table with a plate of turkey in front of him because Annabelle would have thought it was strange if he didn't have any. For another thing, everyone Willow loved in the world was there too. Everyone who was still alive. Everyone she had left.
For some reason, even though Oz sat next to her, Willow kept thinking about Tara. Tara sat at the opposite end of the table, dressed now at least, in a simple black tee-shirt and baggy jeans. For some reason, Willow found herself watching her.
When Willow looked at Tara, she saw a whole world...a world she could choose, or not.
The dinner was successful. There were no heated arguments. The food was great, "Because they all quite sensibly kept me out of the kitchen," Rebecca said. Cordy made Boston crème pie and candied yams. Annabelle and Willow both finished two helpings of cranberry sauce each. It was the processed, jellied kind that came out shaped like the can and they both liked that kind best.
"Don't be too much of a cranberry sauce belly, Anna," Willow said. "Too much cranberry sauce can give you a tummy ache, sweetie."
Willow had Annabelle sitting next to her, and Annabelle seemed much more interested in the food on Willow's plate than in her own food. She kept eating Willow's turkey and mashed potatoes even though there was perfectly good turkey and mashed potatoes on her own plate. Finally Willow put all their food together on one plate.
"Will's the exact same way," Faith said. "She always picks at my food."
"Anna's my karmic retribution," Willow said.
"Willow picks at your food?" Buffy said.
"Uh...yeah," Faith said.
Willow had never picked at Faith's food before. But she knew what Faith must have meant. She knew why Faith was embarrassed now. She got her off the hook.
"I like picking at your food too, Buffy," Willow said. "I'm comin' over there and grabbing your yams."
"Are you flirting with me?" Buffy said. "They're more like raisins anyway."
Oz and Sol turned out to be the jokesters of the group, and they kept the conversation flowing and the table entertained whenever there was a lull. Willow thought the two of them were particularly welcome because they were outsiders. They hadn't gone through the wars. They kept things light and they told stories that had nothing to do with vampires or apocalypses. They talked about sports and music and politics and they were a reminder that there was a world out there that had nothing to do with Sunnydale. Even Angel smiled. But Tara didn't.
After dessert, everybody broke up into little groups. Angel and Sol and Oz went into the living room to watch old Lakers games that Angel had on tape. Rebecca and Faith took Tara aside, and Cordy and Buffy whisked Willow away for her super-fab makeover, which Annabelle watched with fascination. Annabelle seemed to think it was very important that Cordy and Buffy found a way to give Willow a mermaid tail like Ariel had in The Little Mermaid.
"You know, don't you," Cordy said to Buffy, after they shampooed Willow's hair and Willow sat in the chair in front of the mirror in Cordy's room with a towel over her head.
"Yeah," Buffy said.
"Know what?" Willow said.
"I'm seeing Angel," Cordy said. "Is this gonna be a thing? Do you and I need to have a long, heartfelt discussion about this?"
"Seeing Angel?" Willow said. "You mean..."
"Yeah," Cordy said.
"Okay, could've seen this coming, actually," Willow said. "What about the perfect happiness problem?"
"It's not gonna be a thing, Cordy," Buffy said.
"We're doing everything but, so there's only like sixty-percent happiness," Cordy said. "You're sure it's not gonna be a thing?"
"Remember Anna's here?" Willow said. "Let's keep it PG."
"Everything but what?" Annabelle said.
"Everything but pop tarts," Willow said, and touched her nose to Annabelle's, and shook her head. Annabelle giggled and nodded.
"Cordy, do you care about him?" Buffy said. "You're not just..."
"I don't do booty calls," Cordy said. "I like him. I care about him."
"Booty call!" Annabelle shouted. "I'm gonna do a booty call!"
"You're gonna do a tickle call in a minute," Willow said, and pulled Annabelle into her lap and started tickling her stomach. Annabelle laughed and started squirming around.
"Okay," Buffy said. "Then we're cool."
"Unless Angelus shows up," Willow said.
"Told you, we're doing everything but pop tarts," Cordy said. "And c'mon, perfect happiness? Maybe one in a hundred people ever gets a second of that anyway."
"But pop tarts are good, Cordy!" Annabelle said.
Cordy smiled. "Someday maybe I'll find out, Annie," she said. "I'm saving them for a special meal."
"You think Tara's had pop tarts?" Buffy said.
"She definitely likes a different flavor of pop tarts than I do, but I'm leaning toward no," Cordy said.
"I don't know, I was thinking no before, but now I'm not so sure," Buffy said. "I think Tara's maybe got us all fooled."
"Well anyway we definitely know you and Willow have had pop tarts," Cordy said. "Tons of pop tarts. In both kinds of flavors too. Meanwhile I'm the one you guys always kept calling the big 'ho of the entire universe."
"Not the entire universe," Willow said, and grinned. "Just the football team. And I just want it perfectly clear that I only like one flavor of pop tarts and it's the same flavor you like."
"I'll let the football team know you'll be dropping by sometime," Cordy said.
"Tell them to be gentle," Willow said. "I'm not super-flexible like you cheerleaders are. You can do like, splits and stuff. I know guys love that. Your legs just, whoosh! Right back over your head."
"Hey!" Buffy said. "I was a cheerleader! I'm totally taking friendly fire over here."
Cordy sighed. "You were cooler about this Angel thing than I thought you'd be, Buffy," Cordy said. "Thought you'd totally bitch me out. Thanks."
"Hurt him and the bitch is back with bells on," Buffy said.
"Pot calling the kettle black much?" Cordy said. "Aren't you people the ones who keep on trying to dust him every week?"
"It's been almost two weeks now," Willow said. "We're on the wagon."
"Hello?" Cordy said. "Didn't you hear about Buffy aiming the rifle at him?"
"Oh yeah," Willow said. "And we were doing so good for awhile, too."
"What's a 'ho?" Annabelle said.
Willow had been letting her hair grow the past few months; it reached halfway down her back now, which Buffy said was good because it gave them a lot to work with. Buffy and Cordy gave Willow a completely new hairstyle, something Buffy called "a long, layered angle bob parted on the side with sorta wispy sideswept bangs that's all angled in the front to frame your face," and even though Willow had no idea what that meant exactly she just sat back in the chair and let them have her way with her. Cordy had of course packed all of her makeup and perfume when the world ended, as well as hairstyling scissors, three combs, four different hair brushes, mousse, gel, hairspray, conditioner, and some kind of cocoa butter and mink oil shampoo she got from France. Halfway through the process Annabelle decided she wanted a makeover too, so Cordy put her hair in a French braid, and Buffy gave her a dab of lip gloss.
"Can I just say it's really weird watching you two work together toward a common goal?" Willow said. "It's freaking me out. It's like cats and dogs are gonna start living together now or something."
"It's probably all part of Cordy's evil master plan," Buffy said. "She's lulling us into a sense of false security."
"I can't believe you were ever a cheerleader," Cordy said. "It's like the chess club sent in a double-agent to infiltrate us."
"Drama club," Buffy said.
In the middle of the makeover, Rebecca came in to announce that she had just spoken to Riley and he had found them a place that afternoon, a fort in Los Angeles that had a chapel and would be defensible. Riley and his soldiers were there now, building up its defenses and stockpiling weapons.
"Fort Moore, it's called," Rebecca said.
Willow nodded, and wondered if everyone she had left in the world would be dead soon.
"And you look beautiful by the way, darling," Rebecca said. "Now if you'll excuse me I have some more arse-kicking to do."
"Ass-kicking?" Willow said.
"Ass!" Annabelle said, and giggled.
Rebecca raised her eyebrow at Annabelle, and smiled. Annabelle stuck her tongue out at her and giggled again. Rebecca picked her up, sat her on top of the bureau, and covered her ears while she went on giggling.
"Tara," Rebecca said. "She's been extremely stupid. It's like there's a disease going around and Willow was patient zero. I'm afraid all you girls need to be inoculated with a good dose of my boot up your arses."
"Hey!" Buffy said. "I haven't been stupid. Did I do anything stupid?"
"You mean like aiming a rifle at Angel when he was helping us fight those demons," Cordy said. "Or how you followed Willow out to the Wal-Mart alone and risked both of you getting captured just because you wanted to do some shopping. Stupid like that?"
"You're not helping," Buffy said.
"Or how you decided to take the First's deal?" Cordy said. "Doing what the bad guy wants is always pretty stupid. Or how you let Xander and Willow just take off and then Willow got kidnapped by the First? Or..."
"Really not helping!" Willow said.
Rebecca glared at Buffy and Willow. "I should make you girls wear bells around your necks. You've all been running around with your heads up your arses fucking things up while the First sits back and enjoys the entertainment, and it's going to stop. It's going to stop if I have to keep all four of you locked up in this goddamned mansion for the rest of your lives, and don't think I won't do it. There's a dungeon downstairs. Bloody convenient if you ask me."
"What...did Tara do?" Willow said.
"When you were gone this lady with a sword was fighting this other lady in the courtyard," Cordy said. "They looked human but...there was something about them...like they were...more."
"In the courtyard?" Willow said, sitting up straight. "But how did they get through the shield? Is the shield still up?"
"Yes," Rebecca said. "The very worst one there is. Thank goodness Athena wouldn't allow it. Unfortunately Athena didn't kick Tara's arse afterwards. But I'll be rectifying that little oversight. Oh, how I'll be rectifying it."
"She was worried about you," Rebecca said. "That will mitigate the arse-kicking a little. But only a little." She took her hands away from Annabelle's ears. "I assume your date with Oz won't be lasting past midnight. I certainly can't think of a reason you should be up with Oz past midnight, can you? I would think you two should definitely be calling it a night by then, and he should then be going directly into that cell. And I want someone with him when he goes down there, someone strong. Faith, Buffy, or Angel."
"Um...yup," Willow said. "Definitely calling it a night by then. Bringin' Oz directly to the cell after. We're not passing Go, we're not collecting two-hundred dollars."
"Good," Rebecca said, and smiled, and kissed her forehead. "Have a nice time tonight, darling." And then she left, like a storm blowing out to sea.
"Okay," Cordy said, after Rebecca was gone. "I was on the fence about her before, but now I'm thinking she's actually kinda cool. I'm still not in your group though."
"You weren't kidding about the curfew," Buffy said. "She even made it worse. Faith said it used to be one."
"Told you I wasn't kidding about the curfew," Willow said. "I think she's making it midnight because she's worried about me with Oz, maybe he might wolf out ahead of schedule. Plus she's kickin' my butt a little for running off."
"But then you get a kiss, so you know she's not too pissed."
"Yeah. When Becca kicks your butt and you don't get the kiss, then you know you're in the doghouse."
"Giles never threatened to lock me in a dungeon. I just thought I'd mention that."
"She's not Giles."
"She swore. I thought we couldn't swear?"
"You wanna point that out to her? Go ahead. It'll be fun to watch."
When they were finished with Willow's hair, half of it was gone. She had been letting it grow, and now it wasn't there anymore. "You've been doing this sorta Sheena, Queen of the Jungle thing this year, Buffy said. "Now you've got an Uma Thurman Pulp Fiction kinda thing happening instead, but with cooler bangs. Uma beats Sheena."
"If you let your hair go any longer you could've been in one of those hair metal bands," Cordy said. "You were totally becoming the guitarist for Guns N' Roses in front of our eyes."
When they were finished with her makeup, Willow thought she looked like a mime, but both Buffy and Cordy assured her that she looked wonderful.
"Have you ever even actually worn makeup before?" Cordy said. "This is like, totally understated. We're just using warm, earthy, subdued tones to bring out your eyes and your complexion. Plus this is totally intricate too. Even though you're a natural brunette and you look like you might have a summer complexion you're definitely more of a spring now that I'm looking at you and that threw all my calculations off."
"Wait, you made calculations?" Willow said. "There were calculations?"
"This was totally calculated," Buffy said, as she held a pocket mirror up to Willow's face and frowned at a spot on her nose like a scientist looking at a microbe in a Petri dish. Annabelle imitated Buffy, squinting at various spots on Willow's face and acting gravely concerned about what she saw.
"And, wait, it's late autumn now, right?" Willow said. "Shouldn't I have an autumn complexion now?"
Buffy giggled. Cordy just sighed.
"I'm not dignifying that with an answer," Cordy said. "Except to say all those times I made fun of you? I was totally right."
"Will you come visit me in fashion prison, sweetie?" Willow said, and kissed Annabelle's forehead.
When they had finally finished with her and Willow slipped into the green Dior dress and the amethyst necklace and a pair of Cordy's shoes, Annabelle said, "Ooooh, pretty."
"Wow," Cordy said. "What's that movie? The one about the total loser girl who turns awesome when the rich guy finds her and teaches her how not to suck? This is totally like that."
"I can't figure out if that's a compliment or an insult," Willow said.
"I'm grudgingly gonna say it's a compliment," Cordy said, and grinned. "You look pretty, Willow. Go dazzle Oz."
"Yup, mission accomplished," Buffy said, looking Willow up and down with obvious pride. "Time for the big date. Then fashion prison. But if you keep on looking this hot I bet you can distract the guard. If I'm the guard I'm totally gonna be distracted. If Faith's the guard I think she'll just drive you out of there in a limo."
Willow looked at herself in the mirror. She did look good, she thought. She looked so good she didn't even recognize herself.
Faith sat with Tara in the kitchen, drinking tea in the dark.
"So how'd you like your first Becca ass-kicking?" Faith said.
"It was...pretty thorough," Tara said. "Yeah, that's the word. Thorough. I think she kicked like, every single portion of my butt. I think my butt's got her boot print on it."
"She did it because she cares, Tara."
Tara nodded.
"Are they...on their date now?" Tara said.
"Yup," Faith said. "Just saw them in one of the rooms down the end of the hall. He's playing guitar for her. She got all dressed up for him. New hairstyle too. She looks real pretty."
Tara nodded again.
"I'm gonna say some stuff to you, because I care," Faith said. "It's gonna be hard stuff. It's gonna hurt your feelings a little. But I care and I'm your friend, so this is the kinda stuff I gotta say."
"What stuff?"
Faith tuned in to her nose. She knew where Rebecca was. She always knew where Rebecca was. Right now she was with Sol, watching basketball games in the living room.
And Faith knew Buffy was waiting, in their bedroom.
The kitchen was lit by a single candle, because Faith preferred the dark. The candle smelled like cinnamon. Tara smelled like ginger. Faith loved Tara's scent; it was pretty, and exotic. It made Faith think of new places. But Tara sat slumped in her chair like a wilted flower.
Faith found Buffy's scent...jasmine. She thought about choices, when she took in Buffy's scent, and thought about her, waiting for her in their bedroom...waiting to love her. Faith touched her hand to her neck...to the spot where Buffy penetrated her sometimes, and took her blood... took part of Faith inside herself...
Faith thought about choices.
"You could've had me," Faith said. "Instead, you stepped aside. I understand why you did it. I understand you were doing it for me...because you thought it was what was best for me."
"I care about you, sweetie," Tara said.
Faith took her hand. Faith still wore the friendship bracelet Tara had given her.
"I know," Faith said. "Intellectually, in my head, I know you stepped aside because you were thinking about what was best for me. I know that. But you wanna know what my heart told me? What my heart still tells me now? It tells me you didn't want me enough to fight for me."
Tara took Faith's hand in both of hers, and caressed it. "Faith...that's not...that's not true, sweetie. It's not."
"I know. But sometimes we only believe our hearts, Tara, not our heads. Water under the bridge anyway. I'm with Buffy and I'm happy with her. You wanna be with Willow?"
"What?"
"Simple question. Yes or no answer. When we were all going crazy looking for Willow you were willing to make yourself a slave to some god who's supposed to be like the Viking Devil according to Becca, because you thought he could find her. So I'm pretty sure I know the answer. But I wanna hear it from you anyway."
Tara fingered the crystal pendant on her necklace. Usually, it glowed. Now it was dark and dull as a brick of charcoal.
"She says...she told me...she's straight," Tara said, looking down at her teacup. "That, the whole liking girls thing...it's just because of your memories and she doesn't want to--"
"Wasn't what I asked."
Faith lifted Tara's chin, and looked her in the eyes.
"Do you want her?" Faith said. "Yes or no."
"Yeah," Tara said. "But--"
Faith held her finger against Tara's lips.
"You want something, there are only two choices in life," Faith said. "You go after it or you don't. If you go after it, maybe you'll get it and maybe you won't. But if you don't go after it, you definitely won't get it."
Faith lifted up Tara's necklace, and took the pendant in her hand. The crystal instantly blazed to life at Faith's touch. It flashed silver, the light reflecting off the walls of the dark little room like shooting stars.
"You and me are connected, Tara," Faith said. "We're connected through her. Not the Willow back there hangin' with Oz right now. The other one. The one who loved us. You and I even met because of her. You told me Willow gave you those Tara cards when you were a kid, the magic deck that sent you to the lighthouse to save me. When I was with my Willow, she told me she started dating you because she had my memories...because she had my feelings for you, and eventually that led her to fall in love with you herself. You and me are connected. Willow connects us."
Tara nodded. She watched the pendant, as it flared in Faith's hand.
"You ever take this off since she gave it to you?" Faith said.
"No," Tara said.
"She was with me awhile last year, six months," Faith said. "I loved her. I thought she was gonna marry me someday. I never told anyone this...never told Buffy this, never told our Willow this. Buffy's my love. I'd die for her, Tara. But...there are times...there are times when I'd give anything to be with my Willow again. A part of me still thinks she's looking for me... that she's gonna find me again. A part of me is waiting for her. A part of me always will be."
"Everything's about love, isn't it?" Tara said. "Everything in the world. It all comes down to love."
"Yeah," Faith said. "Love, and the crazy shit we do for it. Willow was my first love, Tara. I thought we were gonna be together forever, y'know? I'll always carry her around with me. I'll always have her in my heart. I know she didn't wanna leave me. I know...I know she only did it because...she had to. Because she had to, to save the world. I know it in my soul and I believe it with all my heart. I know if there were any other way, she'd be here with me now. I know she fought to hold on to me, Tara. I know she fought with all her strength and whatever made her leave, she only did it because there was no other way, because the whole world would've ended somehow if she stayed with me. Willow loved me. She fought for me. I know she did. Because that's what you do when you love someone. You fight for them. Sometimes you lose. But you still fight."
Faith let go of the pendant. The light faded, like a setting sun.
"Now you need to ask yourself, are you ready to fight?" Faith said. "Or are you just gonna stand aside again? You gonna at least take a swing? Or are you gonna sit here feeling sorry for yourself while Oz moves in? I talked to him, he's a nice guy, he's not trying to take advantage of her, he knows she's in mourning for Xander. But he wants her, and he's making his play. He's not dumb, he knows you have a thing for Will too. He saw you in the kitchen yesterday at breakfast, he can put two and two together. You think it's stopping him, that you want Will? It isn't. Because he wants her too, and he's willing to fight for her. How about you? You willing to fight? I know how much you care about her, how you've built your whole life around her. But do you care enough to fight?"
"But maybe...maybe she'd be happy with Oz."
"Maybe she'd be happy with you."
"But..."
"It's not your decision to make, Tara, who Will would be happy with. It's her decision. Let her make it. You say you want what's best for her but if you don't even let yourself get up to bat, then you're forcing Willow to decide one way. You take a swing, sure, maybe you strike out. But then at least Willow gets to decide. You say you want what's best for her, but you know what I think? I think you're afraid. With me you saw how much I loved Buffy and you thought I should be with her, and I get that. But Willow barely knows Oz. He's a cool guy, but so what? You're a cool chick. I think you're afraid to go up against Oz. Because you're afraid she'll pick him instead of you, and then you'll be hurt, because you've sort of been carrying a torch for her your whole life. You told me you had girlfriends before, but I think all that time, you were still kinda waiting for Will to come along, and now you're so scared of losing her that you're afraid to try to keep her, afraid to fight to have her. But that's the way life works. Everything worth having in this world has to be fought for. It's the first thing Becca taught me, honey. You don't fight, you won't have shit."
"So...how do I fight?" Tara said.
"You've been mopin' around, ignoring Willow since breakfast yesterday," Faith said. "Stop ignoring her. Let her know you want her. Willow's interested in Oz, and look what she's doing. She's all dressed up, new hairstyle, she looks hot. I'm Oz, I see Willow and I think, This girl really digs me. But you're not acting like you're interested in Willow. You're acting like you want her to leave you alone. You have this idea in your head, that just because she gave you that necklace when you were a kid that you guys are supposed to be together. You're wrong. Sure, you were together. The way my Willow's life went, she was with you before she met me. I don't think I'm revealing any classified secrets when I say that. She loved you, she told me she did. And I love her enough to want to make sure that she's not denied that love. You were with my Willow a long time before she met me, and you were important to her, and I don't want her to not have you. Because I love her, and I want her to be happy. Even if it's not with me."
"This is the weirdest conversation ever. You want me to date Willow because the future version of her who dated you used to date me and you love that future version of her so much that you don't want her to miss out on being with me because I made her really happy for awhile. Is that what you're telling me? Am I missing anything?"
Faith smiled. "That's what I'm telling you. The Willow back there with Oz, from my point of view her future's already happened. But it hasn't. And yeah, maybe I'm being selfish, but I wanna make sure she becomes the Willow I love. To do that, she needs you. But that's not the only reason I'm talking to you about this. I care about you, Tara, you're my friend, and I don't like seeing you like this...sad, feeling beat down. And I'm telling you, if you don't go after what you want in life, things are gonna get worse. You'll always feel beat down. Life will steamroll right the hell over you if you don't get up and get moving. A lot of life is timing, honey. It's seeing an opportunity and capitalizing on it. If I met you before I met Buffy, I'd definitely be with you now. If Willow isn't forced to go back in time in ten years she never would've been with me last year. If Oz had asked Willow out last year, maybe she never would've dated Xander at all. If Buffy had been just a little less awesome in the sack, maybe Angel never loses his soul and they'd still be a couple now. If Kakistos hadn't come after me when he did, maybe I'd be back in Boston dating Evan now. The way it went for my Willow, you were her first choice, she was with you a long time, and I was her second choice, because she got together with me after she was with you. If she and I had gotten together before she started dating you, maybe everything would've been different for her. If I walk back there right now and grab Willow away from Oz and kiss her and tell her I love her and that I wanna be with her, maybe that necklace around your neck will disappear. Maybe you'll disappear. You told me you only came to Sunnydale because she told you to when you were a kid, right? If I go back there right now and tell Willow I love her and she's my girl, maybe you'd suddenly end up back in Milwaukee. Think about that. Stuff that's already happened in both our lives all depends on what Willow decides to do in the future. So what does all this crazy shit tell us?"
Tara had a strange feeling in her stomach.
For just a moment, Tara felt like someone had stepped on her grave.
"Um...that's...a really good question," Tara said. "Does it tells us that life is really, really complicated?"
"Nope. Tells us life is simple. It tells us that when opportunity knocks, we gotta open the damn door, because timing is everything. Seize the moment. Swing the bat. There might be a million people in the world who Willow could be a perfect match with, people she could live the rest of her life with and be happy. But we're the ones here, not them. The moment's coming around for us, not them. She gave you the necklace, you know you were important to her, but you're acting like it's a done deal, like you shouldn't have to put any work in to have her, and you're wrong. You walk around in your nightgown all day, not trying to look good for her, not spending time with her, not pursuing her at all, as if you and her are guaranteed and you don't have to lift a finger. But you're not guaranteed. Nothing in life is guaranteed."
"But...but it's only your memories that make her like girls in the first place," Tara said. "Without your memories--"
"Tara," Faith said. "My memories are part of her. They're part of who she is. They're never gonna fade. Right now she's still adjusting to them and she has trouble sometimes, she thinks she's me sometimes, but she's gonna find her balance with that. The way she's gonna do it is, she'll take the best of me, the best of her, and make a new Willow. I'm always gonna be part of her, honey. It'll take her years to realize that, it'll take her years to accept it, but she will. I know it, because my Willow told me. She likes girls. She likes you. It's just gonna take time for her to accept it, that's all. You can help that along. But you and her aren't a done deal, Tara. The future isn't written in stone. So decide what you want. And then decide if it's worth fighting for."
Faith stood up. She looked Tara in the eyes.
"I'm gonna let Buffy make love to me now," Faith said. "You could have been the one making love to me. But you wouldn't take a swing. You just watched the pitch go by."
Tara blushed. Faith kissed her cheek.
"Bottom of the ninth, girlfriend," Faith whispered in her ear.
She walked away, and left Tara sitting in the dark.
"This is how my baby likes it," Buffy whispered, as she caressed Faith's cheek, and looked down into her eyes, and fucked her with the strap-on under the covers, soft and slow, and their bodies rocked together in the dark. "Nice and slow under the covers, huh baby?"
Faith nodded. Faith had tears in her eyes now, and Buffy could feel her feet starting to tremble...Buffy knew she was close.
"I love you so much, Buffy," Faith whispered.
"I love you too, baby," Buffy whispered, and kissed her.
"Afterwards, we gotta...we gotta be...with Becca tonight," Faith said, as she curled up in a ball and wrapped her legs around Buffy, and ran her toes over Buffy's ass, as Buffy fucked her. Faith whimpered, and her feet trembled, as Buffy started fucking her faster, and went in deeper. Buffy paused at the end of every thrust, holding the dildo inside Faith as deep as it could go.
"I know, baby," Buffy whispered.
"It's just...it's the last night and...we all might die tomorrow and..."
Buffy smiled, as Faith held on tighter to her. "It's okay, baby. I like being with Rebecca. I know you're worried about us getting along. You don't have to worry, okay baby? You don't."
"Doesn't gotta be...right after. Just...later on tonight."
"We'll have time to take a little nap together first before we see her," Buffy whispered. "I'll rub your tummy so you can sleep and we'll take a nice nap, okay, baby?"
Faith nodded, and smiled, as Buffy filled her up, and her tears ran down her cheeks...
"Will you...will you take it?" Faith whispered.
Buffy shook her head. She knew sometimes Faith liked it better when she made her wait.
"Please?" Faith said.
Buffy shook her head again. She took Faith by the hair, and held her still, and fucked her harder. Faith started whimpering again, as Buffy whispered things to her...terrible things that only Slayers knew. Things Faith already knew, but they still scared her, when Buffy whispered them to her...
Faith nodded, and cried, and came, as Buffy fucked her, and whispered the terrible things to her...
Buffy held Faith tight, as her body quaked. She kept the dildo inside her, as she did. She kissed her, softly. She looked down into Faith's eyes, and knew exactly what they were telling her...what they were asking her for.
Buffy waited a moment, first. Before she was hard with Faith, she wanted to be soft with her. She held her, and kissed her, and told her she loved her. She stayed inside her while she did.
After she had given Faith what she needed, after she had been soft with her, Buffy snarled, and yanked Faith's hair. Faith gasped.
Buffy yanked Faith's hair again, harder. New tears squeezed from Faith's eyes. Her scent began to change...it wasn't where Buffy wanted it yet, but it would get there.
"Who do you belong to?" Buffy said, and rammed the dildo into Faith, and looked down into Faith's eyes. Faith moaned.
"You," Faith whispered.
Buffy pulled out of Faith, and knelt above her face. Faith tried to touch the dildo, but Buffy snarled at her again, and slapped her hand away. Faith inched away from her, and hid her face, and curled up tighter in a ball.
"Get the fuck over here," Buffy said, and pulled Faith back toward her by the hair.
Buffy held the dildo against Faith's face. When Buffy looked down into Faith's eyes now, growling as she did, Faith blushed, and tried to look away. Buffy yanked her hair again, and made her look at her. She held the dildo against her face, over her lips, and her nose. She held it there, and kept Faith still, and looked at her.
She waited.
A moment passed. Buffy smacked the dildo against Faith's lips.
Buffy knew Faith's scent was almost there. Almost where they both wanted it.
Faith opened her mouth. Her lips were trembling. Buffy slipped the dildo inside.
"You're gonna swallow my cum," Buffy said.
Tears filled Faith's eyes, but she nodded. Buffy fucked her mouth with the dildo, holding her in place by the hair as she did. She moved Faith's hands around to her ass, and had Faith bring her in closer as she fucked her mouth.
"Good girl," Buffy whispered.
As Buffy fucked Faith's mouth, as she saw Faith looking up at her, she felt her own orgasm building...
"You're...making me...come, baby..." Buffy grunted, fucking Faith's mouth harder now, snarling with every thrust.
A moment later, Buffy made a little stifled screaming sound, clenching her teeth to keep from making too much noise, as her orgasm rocked through her. At the same time she squeezed the dildo's balls and let it squirt. Faith screamed too, as a stream of the thick, warm stuff Buffy had filled the dildo with exploded into Faith's mouth and spurted straight down her throat. Faith instinctively tried to take the dildo from her mouth, but Buffy slapped her hand away and held her by the hair, keeping the dildo in place. Faith started crying. Her scent was right there now...it was just where they both wanted it: she was scared.
Buffy caressed her cheek, and pulled the dildo from her mouth. But she held it an inch away from Faith's lips.
"It's okay, baby," Buffy whispered. "It's okay. We're gonna do a few more squirts, okay? Open your mouth for me."
Faith opened her mouth. Buffy positioned the dildo over her bottom lip.
"I'm gonna come in your mouth in little squirts, and I want you to swallow it all, okay?" Buffy said. "When my dick squirts, wait until it's all in your mouth, then swallow, then we'll do another squirt. Okay?"
Faith sniffled, and nodded. She wiped her tears away. Her hand was trembling. Buffy could hear Faith's heart racing, too. Her scent was still right where they both wanted it.
"This is gonna happen," Buffy said. "You're gonna swallow my cum, Faith. You're gonna look into my eyes when you do it. Don't look away from me. Okay?"
Faith nodded again. Buffy looked down into Faith's eyes, and squeezed the dildo's balls, and Faith moaned as another ropy stream of the thick, warm stuff filled her mouth. It was white, and it had a milky texture, and a sweet taste on Faith's tongue. Faith shuddered as it filled her mouth, but she didn't look away from Buffy.
"Swallow it," Buffy said.
Faith swallowed it down. This time she was able to taste it. It had a vanilla taste.
"That's it, baby," Buffy said. "That's it. Open your mouth again."
Faith opened her mouth. Buffy positioned her dick against Faith's bottom lip, and squirted in her mouth again...
There was a lot of it, and Buffy made Faith swallow it all, holding her in place by the hair and looking into her eyes the entire time as her dick squirted out stream after stream of thick white stuff. When Faith had swallowed it all down, Buffy kissed her.
"Good girl," Buffy said, and smiled, and laid back down on the bed, and curled up beside her. She took Faith in her arms, and looked down into her eyes. "You're always a good girl for me, huh baby?"
Faith nodded. Buffy kissed her tears away, and put her hand on Faith's stomach. Faith's heartbeat was slowing down, and her scent was returning to normal now.
"You said you wanted me to scare you a little tonight," Buffy whispered. "Did I scare you, baby? I know you have like a little hang-up about that...about blowjobs, because guys were always assholes to you. Did it scare you baby, swallowing my cum?"
Faith liked being scared sometimes. Being scared of Buffy made their sex even better. Looking up into Buffy's eyes at that moment, knowing she was still afraid of Buffy a little, even now, and knowing she always would be a little afraid of her, Faith realized that this was the one thing Willow couldn't give her...that no one else but Buffy could ever give her...
Faith didn't think Willow could ever scare her. And she liked being scared sometimes.
"Yeah, lover," Faith said, and smiled. "Scared me just right."
Buffy began rubbing her belly. Faith moaned.
"You swallowed it all for me, huh, baby?" Buffy whispered. "Your tummy's all full now." Buffy put her teeth on Faith's neck. "You swallowed my cum like a good girl."
Faith nodded, and hugged her. "Because I belong to you," Faith said. "I wanna swallow it for you again, Buffy. Can we do that sometimes? Please?"
Buffy brought Faith closer to her. "I always give my baby what she wants. You liked it? Did you like how it tasted?"
"Yeah. What was it?"
"Vanilla yogurt smoothie," Buffy said. "I warmed it up on the stove first."
Faith giggled.
"Now it's time for me to swallow, baby," Buffy whispered, and moved her mouth to Faith's neck. Faith moaned, as Buffy bit down deep, her strong teeth penetrating her in the same place they always did--the wound, only partially healed, that Drusilla had created in her. It had been a stain, when Drusilla created it; Faith had considered it a dirty, disgusting thing, a violation. It had marred her. But Buffy had made it her place now. It wasn't a stain anymore now, it wasn't a scar. It wasn't dirty. It was a passage, and it was there for Buffy, and no one else. Buffy entered her through it. When Buffy bit into her neck and took her blood inside herself, Buffy took what Drusilla had done, and made it beautiful.
After Buffy took some of Faith's blood inside her, she held her to her bosom, and rubbed her belly again. They laid there in the dark together, and looked into each other's eyes. They had entire conversations sometimes without talking.
They had lit one of Willow's candles. The room smelled like peppermint, and their sex. The candle changed the darkness, sculpted it into new shapes. There was a lamp in the room, but they never used it. The dark was always better.
They looked into each other's eyes.
"Think we're all gonna die tomorrow?" Faith said, after a few minutes.
"Yeah," Buffy said. "Do you?"
"Yeah," Faith said.
"We haven't had the talk," Buffy said. "Everyone's talked to me about it...about what I did at the supermarket. Rebecca, Tara, Cordy, Willow, Angel, even Oz. How come you haven't talked to me about it? Don't you wanna tell me that I'm really a good person and I'm just kinda stressed right now and I shouldn't feel guilty?"
"What did Becca say?"
"She said she doesn't care about those people. Said good riddance to bad rubbish. Said all she cares about is me. Wants to make sure I keep it together. Plus she said she'd kick my ass the next time I went off the reservation. Actually she said 'arse'. And does anyone actually say 'off the reservation'? No one says 'off the reservation'."
"Becca says it. And it means don't test her. She says jump, you say how high. Anything else is off the reservation. Told me I went off the reservation once when I arrived ten minutes late for one of our workouts because Ev and I went out for breakfast. I was like, 'It wasn't off the reservation, it was right down the street at the IHOP!' Because, y'know, I'm hilarious."
Buffy giggled. "You're totally hilarious. Did Rebecca think you were hilarious? She didn't, did she?"
"Nope. But she thought making me do about fifty-six thousand pushups that day was pretty hilarious."
"You're a rebel, baby," Buffy whispered, and kissed her.
"I fight authority, authority always wins," Faith whispered back.
They looked into each other's eyes. Faith was making a soft purring sound now, as Buffy rubbed her belly. She had the warm feeling in her stomach...the one Buffy always gave her.
"My baby likes when I rub her tummy, huh?" Buffy whispered.
"Your baby loves it," Faith whispered.
"Speaking of off the reservation, you should've heard the speech Rebecca gave Will and me when we were doing Will's makeover. She said we've all had our heads up our asses and been really stupid and it's gonna stop even if she has to lock all four of us in the dungeon downstairs."
"Becca told me about that when we were kickin' Tara's ass. Tara's what brought that on. Summoning a god, almost getting herself enslaved, it was sorta the last straw with Becca."
"She swore and everything. I chose not to point that out to her though."
"Parents can't be parents without at least a little bit of 'Do as I say, not as I do'. In fairness to Becca though, look at it from her point of view. She's trying to keep us all alive and what do we do? I try to kill myself, Willow walks out of the house and gets herself captured by the First, you almost kill Angel, and Tara summons a god who could kill us all with a snap of his fingers and she almost lets him make her a slave. Becca keeps trying to tell us to use our heads and we all keep running off doing stupid crazy shit. She lost it because she cares about us."
"Giles never threatened to lock me in a dungeon."
"Becca's not Giles."
Buffy nodded. "So how come you're not talking to me about what I did?"
"I'm talking to you about it," Faith said. "We're talking about it right now. Been talking about it for awhile."
"We have?"
Faith rolled over, and laid herself on top of Buffy, and looked down into her eyes.
"We have some of our best conversations when we don't say a word, honey," Faith whispered, and curled up against her breasts, and began sucking on one of her nipples.
Buffy nodded, and held Faith to her breasts, and kissed her hair.
"You know, don't you?" Buffy whispered. "You know what I haven't been telling them."
Faith nodded.
"Does it make me...bad? Am I a bad person?"
Faith shook her head.
"Giles would say it makes me bad."
"I'm not Giles. Becca isn't Giles either. She already told you she doesn't care about those people. All she cares about is you. She's not blowing smoke, Buffy. She'd understand this...if you really talked to her about it, if you let her in, she'd understand. She did stuff in Gibraltar that makes the supermarket look like a tea party. That stuff doesn't change how I feel about her. And the supermarket doesn't change how I feel about you."
They were quiet again for awhile. They looked into each other's eyes, and had a conversation without talking. Faith kissed Buffy's breasts. Buffy stroked her hair.
"I love your eyes," Buffy said. "They're always golden."
"Only for you," Faith said.
"It doesn't matter to you? The thing I haven't been telling them? Everyone would say it makes me...bad."
"Becca wouldn't say that. And you're my girl. It's all you are."
"But...I'm supposed to be...I'm supposed to be...the good guy."
Faith kissed her.
"You're my girl," Faith said. "Good, bad, doesn't matter. You're Buffy Summers. I want the whole package. It doesn't matter to me, that killing them didn't make you feel anything. I'm not gonna make an excuse for it, because I don't care. All I care about is you. You not feelin' guilty about killing those people doesn't change anything between you and me. You're my girl."
"I knew you knew," Buffy said. "No one's ever known me like you do."
"I know something else too," Faith said, and kissed her way down Buffy's stomach. She took the dildo off of Buffy, sliding it down her legs and off her feet as she kissed her way down beside it, and then flipped Buffy over on to her stomach, and kissed her ass.
"You better not try to lick me there," Buffy whispered.
"How come you won't let me?" Faith whispered, and gently spread Buffy's ass cheeks apart.
Buffy smiled. "Because I'm a bitch. And because you like when I make you wait for stuff. I'm authority, baby. I always win."
"But I'll lick it so good, honey," Faith whispered. "I need every part of you. Please?"
"Tomorrow morning, baby. But only if you're a good girl for me."
Faith licked her way down Buffy's legs, to her ankles. She curled up at Buffy's feet, and started kissing them.
"I can be a good girl," Faith whispered.
"So what else do you know?" Buffy said. "You said you know something else."
Faith kissed Buffy's feet, and looked up into her eyes. "You did feel something at the supermarket," Faith whispered. "You felt good. You liked killing those people."
Buffy looked up at the ceiling, into the darkness.
"Yeah," Buffy said. "So, how much do I suck?"
Faith kissed her feet.
"I'm in love with Buffy Summers," Faith said. "Not just the good parts, not just the sexy parts. Not just any parts. I don't take a breast and throw away the leg, I don't take the white meat and throw away the dark. I want the whole meal. You're a feast, and I want the whole meal."
"How are you comparing me to chicken and still making it seem so romantic that I wanna get all girly and cry over here?" Buffy said, and smiled.
Faith moved up beside her, and put her arms around her, and looked into her eyes.
"I'm in love with you, Buffy," Faith said. "I'm in love with you when you're a bitch. I'm in love with you when you're drunk off your ass and you smell like booze. I'll be in love with you when you're ninety-two years old and you got dentures. I'd love you if you were a vampire. You ever got turned, I'd have you turn me too so we could be together forever. I'm in love with you first thing in the morning every single day and right up until we go to sleep, plus in all my dreams too. You can fuck things up, you can piss me off, you can kill people because they hurt Will and you can get off on it too, and none of it matters. Because the one thing you can't ever do is stop being Buffy Summers. So I'll always love you, honey. You'll always be my girl."
Tears ran down Buffy's cheeks. Faith kissed them away.
"Okay, um...that was...that was totally even more romantic than the chicken thing," Buffy whispered, and started to cry. Faith hugged her.
"I meant what I said, beautiful," Faith whispered. "If you ever became a vamp, I'd become one too."
"When Dru had you, that was the choice she gave me. She told me you were meant to be a vampire...that you were meant to be turned by her, you were gonna be her daughter. But she said I could be, too. That if I wanted to, she would turn me, and I could be with you. I was about to say yes when you woke up and kicked her ass, who knows how. You had like no blood left in you and you're suddenly going all Wonder Woman on our asses."
"Becca. I had a dream about her, after Dru bit me. But it felt more real than a dream... like she was really there. I was like, on a beach with her somewhere, but...it was like Becca knew what was happening with me and Dru. Becca gave me the strength to get up and fight. Becca would be kinda pissed off if you and me became vampires. We should probably try not to."
"Yeah," Buffy said, and giggled. "That's probably going off the reservation."
Willow and Oz sat together on a sofa in one of the endless little granite rooms the mansion had honeycombed through it, each one seemingly equipped with its own collection of antique furniture. The sofa they were sitting on was actually an antique settee that looked something like a creampuff, with gold leafing, white fabric, silk trim and down-filled cushions. There was also an antique marble-topped table with carvings of cherubs running along the sides, and the candle stand that the cheap little television set with the missing knob and the rabbit ear antenna sat on top of looked pretty valuable too. The television had a VCR on the floor in front of it in case they wanted to watch a movie, and Angel had left a bunch of his videotapes for them, but they hadn't bothered watching movies. Oz played his guitar instead, and they talked.
The date had been going well, or at least as well as it could under the circumstances. They ate leftover Thanksgiving food, but the candied yams were good. Sol interrupted them every hour to check Willow's vitals, but he was at least apologetic about it. Willow kept thinking about Tara, but Oz kept playing his guitar for her, and he was really cute, and his hair was even more awesome than it had been before. "Cordy gave me some French stuff," Oz had said. And Willow had successfully maneuvered Oz into putting his arm around her and keeping it there, so she was happy. She had to curl up against him on the settee in order for Oz to play his guitar while he kept an arm around her, and Willow wasn't complaining about that either.
But she kept thinking about Tara...
Tara had been willing to sell herself into slavery for her. Faith had saved her life before, and Buffy had saved her life too. But what Tara had been willing to do...
Willow kept thinking about Tara.
"Have I told you how good you look?" Oz said.
"A few times," Willow said. "You can tell me again. For some reason, it never gets boring."
"I'm careful to use different adjectives each time. I think that dress cost more than my guitar."
"You like the dress?"
"I like you in the dress. But I'd like you in anything. The first time I met you last year you were wearing jeans and pink converse hi-tops and a tee-shirt that said 'Nerds Do It Better'. You were officially the cutest thing I had ever seen. I saw this Chinese panda bear once at the San Diego Zoo, her name was Bai Yun. She was officially the cutest thing ever until I met you. You were cuter than her."
"Bai Yun sounds like a hussy. I'm all jealous now."
"She's probably a nice, wholesome girl. Bear. Girl bear."
"Okay, so I'm gonna kiss you," Willow said. "I don't usually like, announce these things in advance? It's just that...well, the world might end tomorrow and I really wanna kiss you so I'm gonna kiss you. It's okay if I kiss you?"
"Sounds intriguing," Oz said.
He caressed her cheek. They moved closer to each other. They looked into each other's eyes.
"I got...I got candied yam breath," Willow whispered.
"That's okay," Oz said. "It's a good mix with my stuffing breath."
"You...really liked me in my Nerds tee-shirt?"
"I loved you in your Nerds tee-shirt."
"I'm cuter than Bai Yun?"
"You're totally cuter than Bai Yun."
They kissed.
Tara was all dressed up with nowhere to go.
She wore the outfit Buffy had liked her in before: a cropped chocolate-brown sequined knit camisole with lace trim that showed off her belly, a terracotta hemp skirt that showed off her hips, a tie-dyed taupe and lime-green chiffon shawl, Christian Laurent pumps and silver earrings shaped like little stars. She wore the perfume she had taken from the Magic Box: it mixed with your aura to create a unique scent. Buffy had told her she smelled like honey when she wore it.
She sat on the edge of her bed, crying.
Tara had been all set to fight for Willow. It was past eleven now and Willow's date was supposed to be over soon, and Tara had come up with a cute little plan. She would look good for Willow. She would spend time with her. She would pursue her.
She would find Willow in her bedroom and remind her that she still owed her that back massage Willow had made her promise to give her the week before. They would laugh, and Willow would let her massage her back, and then Tara would tell her it didn't matter if she didn't like girls, because all that mattered was that Willow liked her. It didn't matter how confused Faith's memories made her feel, all that mattered was that they were meant to be together.
Tara would tell Willow she loved her and couldn't live without her and she didn't care if Willow didn't really love her back...
No matter how lost Willow felt right now, Tara would find her...
But as she sat there in the candlelight thinking about Willow, Tara had reached out with her thoughts, without meaning to...
And she had found her.
Is that a bamboo stick in your pants or are you just happy to see me? was the first thing Tara had heard Willow saying, in her mind.
Words people were preparing to say weren't quite the same thing as pure thoughts. Thoughts could be subjective, they could require interpretation to properly read, and sometimes they were composed more of images than of words. But whenever a person was thinking about saying something, the words flashed through their mind a fraction of a second before they spoke them. When Tara focused in on someone's mind at a distance, she could always tell what they were saying, because she read the words in their mind just before they said them.
Tara saw Willow, saying the words in her own mind, just before she spoke them. For Tara, it was the same as hearing the words spoken out loud. Tara heard the words Willow was about to say at the same moment Willow thought them.
Tara had immediately tried to block Willow's thoughts out. It wasn't right, eavesdropping. Tara hadn't meant to. She didn't know how it happened...
I'm stealing you away from Bai Yun. I'm gonna eat that bamboo stick.
Tara had seen Willow in her mind, kneeling down naked in front of Oz, her underwear and her shoes and her green dress on the floor beside her. She saw it in Willow's mind a moment before Willow did it. Tara tried not to see, but she saw...
Tara had seen Willow unbuttoning Oz's pants. Tara saw Oz from Willow's perspective... saw him through her eyes. She saw Willow pull down his boxer shorts. She saw his dick.
Tara's face turned red. Oz had a big dick, with a thick shaft. He had big balls, too.
She saw Willow smile up at him, and cup his balls in her hands, and take him in her mouth...
As the minutes passed, Tara tried and tried to stop listening in, but no matter what she did, Willow's thoughts kept coming to her. Tara couldn't block them out. They were like a song she couldn't get out of her head...
Fuck me, baby...she heard Willow saying.
"Oh Goddess," Tara whispered, as she held the crystal pendant in her hands...it was still dark. Its light seemed to have left her. It had flared when Faith touched it, but it didn't seem to glow for Tara anymore.
Tara saw Oz making love to Willow.
Xander always liked it...when I blew him first, it sorta...settled him down, Tara heard Willow say, as Willow thought the words. I'm thinkin'...that plan...kinda backfired here.
Willow moaned, soft as a dove beneath Oz, and came for him.
But Oz wasn't done. They kept going...
I never need settling down, Tara heard Oz say, as Willow heard him, and the words entered Willow's mind. I'm a real laid back kinda guy. Slow and steady wins the race.
Are you ever gonna come? We're kinda on the clock here. Sol will be coming back in soon. If we gotta stop before you come, hey, I had my fun.
I like to make sure my girls are satisfied, green eyes. Ladies first, that's my motto.
Totally satisfied. Now it's your turn. Come inside me, baby...
She sat on the edge of her bed, holding her necklace in her hand, and tried to calm down...to center herself. The crystal pendant was dark. She looked down at it, for what seemed to her like a long time.
"Fine," Tara said. "Disappear then."
Tara took the necklace off, for the first time in her life, and flung it across the room.
"Fucking disappear!" Tara screamed. "She's not gonna choose me! She's not ever gonna love me! So fucking disappear! Send me back to fucking Milwaukee! Get it the fuck over with!"
"Make me disappear," Tara whispered, and cried. "I wanna disappear."
"Okay, most of my dates don't end with me putting a guy in a cage," Willow said. "Though now that I'm thinking about it, there might be some potential for fun here."
"Just not at this time of the month," Oz said.
"I saw Wolfy last year, y'know. He's...not so bad. Kinda cute, a little."
Willow stood in a dark, chilly cobblestone corridor, wearing a green Dior dress, hugging herself to keep warm, watching Oz through cell bars.
Willow thought the cell certainly looked sturdy enough, as she inspected it in the torchlight. It squatted there in the gloom on the mansion's lowest level, just above the sewers, a veritable fortress of granite with a thick iron door set into it. Angel had told her the granite was two feet thick and that the cell was strong enough to hold a powerful vampire indefinitely; he'd had Spike in there for awhile the year before. There was a small, barred window cut into the iron door, but no windows in the cell. Inside, the cell was a square, low-ceilinged room cut from solid rock, with chains set into the walls. It was empty, and dark, and cold.
"You say that now," Oz said, as he wandered through the shadows in there, exploring his cage. Willow didn't like seeing him in there. At the same time, she realized that a part of her was excited by it...the beast in him excited her.
She realized that part of her liked being scared.
"Do you...want me to bring you anything?" Willow said.
"Wolfy's not into toys."
Their voices echoed for awhile, and then disappeared into the murk. Oz walked around the little stone room, testing the walls.
"This is good," he said. "It'll hold me. But keep me tranqued anyway."
"We have time," Willow said. "You said the full moon doesn't come up until seven in the morning tomorrow, right? And you only start getting all wolfy like a few hours before? It's only quarter past twelve. I know Becca made us promise you go in the cage right after our date but--"
Willow leaned on the cell window, dangling her hands through the bars.
"Oz, that was...a really nice date," Willow said. "I had a great time. I could listen to you play guitar all day. Seriously, you're awesome. You're totally gonna be a rock star someday... um...if we manage to save the world. And, okay, I don't know why I'm saying this now when I should've said it before, but...I wish you had asked me out last year. I wish...I wish we had more time. It would've been awesome, being your girlfriend."
She found herself thinking about Tara again.
It was getting annoying now. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about Tara for the entire date. She had barely paid attention to Oz, and she felt guilty about it.
"So I just wanted to say thanks for...for being so nice to me," Willow said. "You were nice when the First had me and you were nice last year and you're just...always nice. You've never been mean or selfish to me and...I just wanted to say...I just wanted to say that...if we had more time? If we had more time things would've been different. We would've been--"
She barely had time to register what happened next. All she knew, as the wolf sprang roaring at the cell door and she felt its hot breath on her face through the bars, and she saw, just for a fraction of a second, a black, gaping maw filled with razor-sharp white fangs dripping with saliva, was that she had been leaning on the cell window with her arms dangling through the bars, and then she was suddenly sitting on the ground on the other side of the corridor, and she had no idea how she had gotten there. She hadn't even had time to scream.
When she looked up, she saw Angel standing in front of the cell door.
"Dumb," Angel said.
He looked back at her.
"Maybe you guys really should have bells around your necks," he said, and held out his hand to her. "You okay?"
"Angel?" Willow whispered, and took his hand. He pulled her up. "What...happened?"
Oz was pounding against the iron door. The echoes thundered down the corridor. Willow stood there in the dark, shaking from head to toe like someone had dunked her in ice water.
"You," Angel said, and pointed at her. "Werewolf," he said, and pointed at the cell. "Do the math."
"But...he wasn't supposed to...this wasn't supposed to happen for a few more hours."
"It's not an exact science," Angel said. "You're a witch, you know that."
Oz was howling and shrieking, and pounding on the door with all his strength. Every time he smashed himself into the door, Willow jumped. She felt her shaking getting worse. She was aware of her breathing...she felt like she wasn't getting enough air.
"Willow," Angel said, and took her hand again. "You're okay. He can't get through that door. You're safe. Either Buffy or Faith or both of them will be here any second."
Willow's breathing was getting worse. Oz was shrieking and slamming himself against the door...he wouldn't stop...Willow winced every time she heard it.
"They...they...will?" Willow said.
"Yup," Faith said, running down the corridor in her nightgown and socks, carrying a tranquilizer rifle at her side. "I can smell him."
She stopped in front of Oz's cell, and leveled the gun. She looked at him for a moment. Oz stopped pounding on the door, and met Faith's eyes. They watched each other, predator to predator.
Willow could see Oz now, as he looked at Faith through the bars. His face was indistinguishable from a wolf; he had a long snout and sharp fangs and pointed ears. But he was standing upright, like a human being, and he seemed much taller now than he had been when he was human. His neck was long and knotted with muscle; his shoulders were very wide. He was covered in black fur and Willow thought his odor was disgusting, like an animal marking its territory. Oz hunched forward as he leaned on the cell window, and he kept his claws wrapped around the bars. His black fingernails, hooked like talons, were as long as spikes.
Oz's eyes were two red slits, bristling with calculation, and hate.
Oz watched Faith through the bars. He snarled softly as he watched her, and relaxed his posture slightly, as if he had accepted his confinement. Faith remained perfectly still.
A fraction of a second later, Willow jumped as Oz shot his arm out through the bars, straight at Faith's throat. It happened so fast Willow didn't even see him move.
Faith didn't move, or flinch, or even blink, because she stood just out of range of Oz's claw. He clutched impotently at empty air, his long, powerful arm flailing around in the dark. He shrieked again, slamming himself into the iron door now that his ruse had failed, and he had been cheated of his prey.
Faith smiled.
"Say goodnight," she said, and shot him in the neck with the tranquilizer rifle. Oz made a whimpering noise and fell to the floor with a crash that reverberated up and down the hall.
"Dude's got some muscle on him when he's a wolf," Faith said. "Went down hard."
"He looked pretty big to me," Angel said. "A lot taller than Oz, a lot wider too. And he stood up on two legs. All the werewolves I've seen run around on all fours. They were all pretty dumb too. He was smart."
"Yeah," Faith said. "Tried to fake me out. He's cunning. We're gonna have to keep that in mind."
Faith turned back to Willow. Willow was looking down at the ground.
"Anything happen?" Faith said. "You okay?"
"He...he tried to grab me through the bars," Willow whispered. "Angel pulled me back."
"Tell me you didn't come down here alone," Faith said.
"I came down with her," Angel said.
"Bullshit," Faith said. "You wouldn't have let her near the bars." She touched Willow's cheek. She tuned in to her senses. She had been focused on Oz before--his scent was strong when he was a wolf. Now she pushed it away, and focused on Willow.
Willow was afraid. Her fear was changing her scent.
"Angel, Will and I are good," Faith said. "Thanks for the save. If Becca asks, Will came down here with you."
Angel nodded, and walked away.
"You okay, honey?" Faith said.
Willow started to cry. She was taking deep breaths, Faith noticed now; she was starting to hyperventilate. And she was shaking.
Faith hugged her.
"C'mere, honey," Faith said. "It's okay. You're with me now. When you're with me no one ever hurts you, okay? No one."
Willow nodded, and held on to her, and cried.
They sat down on the ground together. Willow curled up in Faith's arms. Faith kissed her forehead, and kept her arms around her.
"Nothing to be scared of, beautiful," Faith whispered. "I'm here now."
Willow nodded again. They didn't talk for awhile. After a moment, Willow's shaking stopped, and her breathing returned to normal. But she didn't let go of Faith.
"Thank you," Willow whispered.
"I save you, you save me," Faith said.
"You save me more."
"No one's keepin' count. Besides, Angel got this save. He wasn't here, you'd be dead. I want you to think about that. I want you to think about what Becca told you, how you don't use your head enough, how you're reckless. You're smart, Willow. You just don't always think."
"Yeah," Willow said. "I thought he wouldn't change for awhile and I just...wanted a little more time alone with him."
"If you died down here, I'd fall apart. I couldn't handle it if you died. I'd die too. So stop being reckless. Okay?"
"Yeah."
"You guys have a good date?"
"I kept thinking about Tara the whole time. What she almost did for me."
"You remember what I told you in the Wal-Mart?"
"Yeah."
"Makin' you feel a little boxed-in, isn't it?"
"Maybe a little. But...I liked Oz anyway. I always liked him. I wanted him to ask me out last year."
"Was he a gentleman tonight?"
Willow looked up at her, and smiled.
"You're totally asking me if I got busy with him, aren't you?" Willow said.
"I get jealous," Faith said. "I don't want you gettin' busy with anybody. Thinkin' maybe I want you to be a nun."
Willow curled up against her again.
"I could just go to sleep like this," Willow said. "I could just curl up and go to sleep on you right here."
"Go ahead, honey," Faith said, and caressed her cheek. "I don't mind."
Willow shook her head. "Buffy would. We don't need to go there again." She lifted her head up, and leaned back against the wall, and held Faith's hand. "And if you really wanna know, Miss I Wanna Call Dibs On Two Different Girlfriends, all we did was kiss. There was no boinking. Nothing below the waist. Nothing below the chin actually."
Faith grinned. "You let someone else kiss you? That does it, I'm kickin' his ass."
Willow looked Faith in the eyes, and licked her lips, and giggled. "I gave him three kisses," Willow said. "Three awesome kisses."
She moved her lips close to Faith's ear.
"You don't know what you're missin', baby," Willow whispered, and giggled in her ear.
Faith smiled, and stood up. "That does it, I'm spankin' that little butt of yours." She pulled Willow up with her. "C'mon. You're cold down here. You look awesome in that dress by the way."
"You really like me in the dress?" Willow said. "It's not too...Cordyish?"
"I dig it, but not as much as the cow pajamas," Faith said. "You were smokin' in the cow pajamas. That little butt-flap got my motor all revved up."
They laughed.
"I'm not kidding about the cow pajamas y'know," Faith said, as they walked away from the cell, holding hands. "You really do look hot in those."
"I know I do," Willow said.
"Okay, so I just got kinda lectured about how I'm a big dumbass?" Willow said, as she came into Tara's room. "But now I think you need a lecture too. What the hell were you thinking when you...um...okay...wow."
Tara looked beautiful. Seeing her at that moment, Willow felt like everything suddenly stopped: like the world stopped, and refocused itself around Tara, and then started again.
Tara was lying on her bed, looking up at the ceiling in the candlelight. She was wearing the outfit Willow had seen her in the day they all moved into the mansion, with the cropped camisole that showed off her belly and the tight, hip-hugging skirt that let Willow see her curves. Tara was wearing her necklace too. Willow had never seen her without it.
Tara sighed. "What do you want now?" she said.
Willow came closer to her. She looked at her in the candlelight...watched the light play through her golden hair, watched it glide around her curves.
But I'm straight, Willow thought.
"You look...really awesome," Willow said. "You're all dressed up. What's that perfume? It smells pretty. It smells like...honey."
"Stuff from the Magic Box," Tara said, and turned away from her. "Blends with your aura. And we're both dressed up. You wore that dress for Oz. What do you want?"
Willow sat beside her on the bed. Tara rolled over on her side, away from her.
Tara didn't have shoes on, and her skirt had hiked up a little. Willow could see her legs as Tara laid on her side now, from the soft, delicate turn of her ankle to the sleek, sensuous sweep of her thigh.
I'm straight, Willow thought, as she let her eyes glide around Tara's curves.
"Well, right this second, I wanna be able to look at you," Willow said.
"I'm kinda tired," Tara said. "You woke me up."
Willow took her hand.
"Why won't you look at me?" Willow said.
Tara turned, and looked at her.
Tara's eyes were red.
"Have you...been crying?" Willow said.
"No," Tara said, and took her hand away from Willow's. "Can we maybe move this along?"
"Just came by to ask what the hell you were thinking," Willow said. "Summoning a god and actually taking a slave collar? We would've lost you."
Tara didn't say anything. She turned away again.
"I would've lost you, Tara," Willow said. "I don't wanna lose you."
"How was your date?"
"It was good. Didn't end so great though. You think you like bad boys, then when you actually find one you realize, okay, not so much."
"So is he boxers or briefs?"
"What? How should I know? It was our first date. If I had to guess I'd say boxers. He's sort of..."
"A real laid back kinda guy," Tara said. She got out of the bed, and walked away. She leaned against the bureau, and folded her arms across her chest, and stared straight back at Willow.
"Um...yeah," Willow said.
"So did he at least show you his awesome tats?" Tara said.
"What?" Willow said. "Tattoos? He has tattoos?"
Tara rolled her eyes. "Of course he does. You've seen them."
"Oz showed you his tattoos?" Willow said.
"No! He showed you his tattoos! Is English like your second language or something?"
"It's starting to feel like it is. How do you know Oz has tattoos? When did you see them? He has cool ones?"
"What?"
"Actually that's my question. I basically haven't understood anything you've said for the past minute. Why are we talking about tattoos again?"
Tara sighed. "Because I'm being a jealous bitch. I'm totally not a real laid back kinda girl. Forget it. Look, I'm really tired, okay? Can I just...get some sleep please?"
Something was nagging at the back of Willow's mind.
"Wait a minute," Willow said. "Laid back..."
Willow's jaw dropped.
"Laid back kinda guy," Willow said.
Tara's face turned red. Willow's face turned white.
"Oh, Goddess," Willow whispered. "You read my mind. You read my mind when I was with Oz."
"I didn't...I didn't m-mean to," Tara said. "It all just...just came at me."
"The tattoos," Willow said. "You saw his tattoos? Tell me about the tattoos. Did he have like...wait, let me think...lightning bolts over his shoulders? A big dragon on his back? An angel and a broken heart on his chest?"
"Yeah," Tara said. "Why are you asking me? You already know, you saw them all."
Willow smiled.
"Okay," Willow said, and started pacing around. "I'm sort of torn between being really pissed at you, and being really kinda flattered too, and also thinking you're a big dumbass. Almost as big a dumbass as me, and that's really saying something."
"I'm sorry," Tara said. "I didn't want to read you, but your thoughts just...came in and I just...c-c-couldn't stop them. I saw it...I saw it in your mind as it was happening, as you and him were...doing it. And I tried Willow, I tried so hard n-not to see, but..."
Willow sat down on the bed. She closed her eyes, and sighed, and shook her head.
"My love life," Willow whispered. "My completely ridiculous love life."
Then Willow smiled again. Then she giggled.
Then she laughed.
"Tara, you big, beautiful dumbass!" Willow shouted. "You weren't reading what I was doing, you were reading what I was thinking! You didn't see Oz having sex with me, you saw my fantasy about him having sex with me!"
"Your...what? Your fantasy?"
"Oh, Goddess, and you even picked up my cheesy dialogue too," Willow said. "Did you get the part about his bamboo stick? Tell me you didn't get the part about his bamboo stick."
"Wait. You're saying...you and him...didn't...?"
Tara focused in on Willow...opened her mind, and let her in. It felt natural, letting Willow in now...receiving her thoughts. Willow's thoughts seemed to fit, as if Tara's mind had already set aside a place for them.
"You're telling the truth," Tara said.
Tara sat down next to her on the bed.
"And I'm a frigging idiot," Tara said.
"But cute though," Willow said, and took her hand.
"This is...I'm just...oh, Goddess," Tara said, and held her head in her hands. "I suck. I suck so much. I suck more than anyone has ever sucked."
"Speaking of sucking, did you get the lame bamboo stick line?"
"How you were gonna eat his bamboo stick. Yeah."
"And then you actually saw me eating his bamboo stick, because I was thinking about it? That's how you saw the tattoos too? You saw the images in my head somehow when I fantasized about him."
"Um...yeah."
"You saw me giving him...y'know. Oral sex. And then you saw us boinking."
"Yeah. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to see."
"You didn't see things that actually happened, so...I guess I really can't be too angry. If Oz and I had really done it and you saw...that would be different. This was just me running a porno movie in my head. Still...kinda freaky how you could actually see images of something that didn't really happen."
"People think in images. When I'm reading someone's mind, a lot of what I get isn't words at all, it's images. You like guys with tattoos? Plus he had an earring...he was kinda like, a cross between a goth guy and a punk guy and a motorcycle guy."
"I always fantasized about being with sort of a bad boy. Xander was always...sensitive and nice and goofy and I loved that, but...I guess I wanted something a little different. And, hello? End of the world? We might all die. If there was ever a time to go a little crazy..."
"He was all, um, built and stuff too. Built and...um...well...that was a pretty big bamboo stick. Wouldn't that have been...I don't know...painful?"
Willow sighed. "I hate my love life. Seriously. My big date ended with me putting a guy in a cage. Which could be fun under other circumstances? But right now he's a big smelly scary evil werewolf and he wants to kill me. And now I've got Faith's memories so I'm all like, half bisexual or whatever and..." Willow shook her head. "My love life is now officially more screwed up than Buffy's ever was. Didn't actually think that was mathematically possible."
"I'm so totally utterly sorry about this, Willow," Tara said. "I'm s-sorrier than anyone's ever been in world history. I'm just...just...a big dumbass."
"A big, beautiful dumbass," Willow said.
"Willow, I didn't m-mean to listen in sweetie, I'm sorry. You have to believe me sweetie, I would n-n-never do something like that to anyone! So I definitely wouldn't do it to you! I definitely wouldn't do it to someone I lo--"
Tara blushed again, and stopped talking.
They sat together in the dark, holding hands in the candlelight.
But it wasn't so dark anymore. Tara's pendant was glowing now, pulsing with power, growing steadily brighter every second, like a rising sun.
"Do you like my dress?" Willow said.
"Yeah," Tara said. "You look beautiful."
"So do you. I missed you when the First had me in that closet and I've been wanting you to dress up for me ever since I got back and you kept on wearing like, pajamas. And you wouldn't even let your hair down, you kept it in a ponytail. You wouldn't give me any eye candy. I thought...I don't know...you were all giving off like, this leave me alone vibe. Like maybe you couldn't deal with my whole Faith memories thing and you just decided to move on."
"I...I put this stuff on for you," Tara said. "I wanted to...to look pretty for you."
"You always look pretty, Tara. And now you look completely hot too. But...but I'm straight. Thinkin' you're hot, that's...that's what Faithmmmmmm..."
Tara swept her up in her arms, and kissed her.
Willow melted in Tara's arms...and felt the warmth of the crystal as it pulsed between them, connecting their two hearts.
"But...but I...don't like girls," Willow whispered.
"Did you like that kiss?" Tara whispered in her ear, and sucked on her earlobe.
"Yeah," Willow whispered.
"I'm a girl," Tara said, and kissed Willow's neck.
"I...noticed that," Willow said.
Tara laid Willow back on the bed.
"You don't like girls," Tara said. "Girls, plural. Girls in general. But can you maybe like one girl?"
"Maybe."
Tara kissed her again.
"I love you," Tara said. "I love you, Willow."
"I love you too," Willow said.
The crystal hung down from Tara's neck, dangling above Willow's heart. It blazed with light now, but the quality of the light had changed. It wasn't white anymore. Now the crystal pulsed with all the colors in the spectrum. To Willow, it felt like being inside a rainbow.
"You gave me this crystal," Tara said. "You gave me everything."
"Because I love you," Willow said. "I know I gave it to you because I love you."
"I took it off tonight, when I thought...when I thought you were with him. I was gonna throw it away. But I couldn't. I put it back on because...because it's part of me. You're part of me. I can't live any other way."
"You're so beautiful, Tara," Willow whispered, as she looked up at her, and saw her in a halo of rainbow light. "You're beautiful in the light. You're a goddess in the light."
Tara looked down into her eyes, and stroked her hair.
"You're the goddess," Tara said. "New hairstyle, huh? Kind of an angle bob?"
"Do you like it?"
"Yeah. I love you too much to hurt you, sweetie. You're in mourning for Xander. That's gonna take time. I won't...try to push you into anything. But I'm gonna fight for you, Willow. I want you and I've decided I'm gonna fight to have you."
"What are you gonna do? Gonna challenge Oz to a duel?"
Tara smiled, and moved Willow up on the bed, so she was lying in the center of it. She took off Willow's shoes. "I'm gonna use sneaky, underhanded tactics, baby," she whispered in Willow's ear.
Tara laid herself beside Willow, and kissed her again.
"You're...a really good kisser," Willow said.
"Got three," Tara said.
Willow giggled. "You really wanted three just because he got three?"
Tara gently held Willow's wrists down against the bed, and kissed her again...a special kiss. She caressed the roof of Willow's mouth with her tongue as she kissed her. Willow moaned, and she felt transported. When Tara kissed her that way, Willow felt like she was floating. A shudder went through her.
"No," Tara whispered. "He got three, so I wanted four."
Willow was still trembling from the kiss. "Okay, you're...a really great kisser," she said.
"That's my special kiss," Tara said. "I wake sleeping beauties with that kiss."
"How many sleeping beauties have there been? I'm all jealous now."
Tara giggled in Willow's ear.
"You guys all completely think I'm a virgin, don't you?" Tara said. "It's really cute, how you all think that."
"It's not...that we didn't think you could have had girlfriends," Willow said. "It's just... you're just..."
"I'm all innocent and nice, right? Non-judgmental. Sorta mellow. A registered Democrat. But there's not a lot to do out in Milwaukee, sweetie. You can drink, smoke weed, tip cows..."
Tara touched Willow's knee. She moved her fingers up Willow's thigh, under her dress, and stopped at the edge of her panties. Willow moaned in Tara's ear, soft as a dove.
"...And fuck," Tara whispered. "I've had girlfriends before, sweetie."
Tara sucked on Willow's earlobe again.
"My specialty is seducing straight girls," Tara whispered in her ear. She smiled. "Once you go Tara, you never go back."
"You're...okay...totally kidding me now with that, right?" Willow said. "This is like...that joke I played on you about the initiation? The werewolves and the spanking."
Tara shook her head, and ran her fingers up and down Willow's thigh.
"When I make love to straight girls the first time?" Tara whispered, and looked Willow in the eyes. "When I'm down between a straight girl's legs, kissing her there and making her come? I always make her watch me."
Tara kept running her fingers up and down Willow's thigh, from the edge of her panties, down to her knee, and back up again.
"You want me to kiss you again, sweetie?" Tara said.
"Yeah," Willow said.
Tara kissed her...the special way. Willow moaned, and began squirming around underneath Tara, rubbing her feet up and down the bedsheet. But after a moment Willow tried to break the kiss...it was too much. No one had ever kissed her this way and Willow had never felt so good...but it was too much...
When Tara kissed her this way, Willow felt like a bell. Tara had her ringing. It felt so good that the sensations were almost torturous. But Tara gently held Willow's wrists down, as Willow tried to move away, and she moved on top of her, and kept kissing her...kept gently caressing the sensitive nerve endings at the roof of Willow's mouth with her tongue, playing her. Making Willow her instrument.
Eventually, Willow stopped trying to escape, and surrendered to it. Ecstasy flooded over her like a wave. She laid trembling beneath Tara, and opened her legs for her, and let the wave sweep her away...
Finally, Tara relented. She ended the kiss with a soft peck on Willow's lips, as Willow laid breathless and still trembling beneath her, her face red, her nipples hard, her panties soaked though. Tara smiled, and caressed her cheek.
"Did you like that kiss, sweetie?" Tara said.
"A little...too much," Willow said. "'Like' isn't...a strong enough word. How...did you learn to kiss that way?"
"I've had a bunch of girlfriends, so I've had a lot of practice," Tara said. "I like sex. I like getting to know a new girl, finding all her secret places. But what I really like is intimacy. I cared about all my girlfriends. I would never have sex with someone I didn't care about. Most of them started out straight, like you. They started out as just friends, and eventually they all became my lovers. But I'm in love with you, Willow. And I could never hurt you, and when I thought you wanted Oz, I was all ready to step aside because I thought maybe...maybe he could make you happy and I want you to be happy, I want that more than anything in the world. But now I've decided I'm gonna fight for you. I've decided I'm the one who's gonna make you happy. I'm gonna make love to you. And when you and I make love, baby? It needs to be the most special thing in our lives. Tonight's strange, because you just lost Xander, but for all we know, we could all be dead tomorrow. I know part of you wants me to make love to you now, and part of you doesn't. I want you, sweetie. I want to show you how much I love you. I've loved you my whole life. But if I make love to you tonight, it could hurt you."
"Your girlfriends were really...straight girls at first?" Willow whispered.
"They all thought they were straight until they met me," Tara said, and smiled.
"Have you ever...dated a gay girl?"
"A couple. But the gay girls I met in Milwaukee were all like, part of the scene there and I never really fit with them. I mean, I have like, the right politics and stuff to fit with them? But I guess I just don't like going along with a crowd. I like keeping things a little unpredictable."
"You're gonna...do that? You're gonna...seduce me?"
Tara kissed Willow's forehead. "I'm gonna show you how much I love you, sweetie. When you're ready. I can wait."
"You're gonna...have me watch when you do it?" Willow whispered.
"Mmm-hmm," Tara said, and kissed her neck.
Willow turned over, and curled up against Tara's breasts. Tara hugged her.
"Stay with me tonight?" Willow whispered. "Becca and Faith and Buffy took Anna for me when I was with Oz and she's asleep in the living room with them now. Stay with me?"
Tara nodded. "But before we go to sleep there's something I owe you, sweetie."
"Something you owe me?" Willow said.
"When you were totally flirting with me in the cow pajamas with the cute little butt flap and you kept saying these cheesy pickup lines and I said I'd do anything you wanted if you'd stop saying the cheesy lines at me? Remember?"
"Yeah. I made you promise to give me a backrub."
Tara smiled, and turned Willow over on to her stomach. She unzipped Willow's dress, and took it off.
She moved on top of Willow, and knelt over her waist. Willow laid beneath Tara now, in nothing but her bra and panties.
And then Willow moaned, as Tara took a bottle of baby oil from the nightstand beside the bed, and spread some across her back, and started massaging her. Tara's nimble fingers expertly rooted out all the accumulated stresses of the past week that had built up and hidden themselves inside Willow without her even realizing it, and began caressing them away.
Tara took her time. She turned over every rock. She found it all, all the things Willow had been hiding, all the guilt and the pain and the fear lurking just under her skin, and caressed it all away. Tara found every pent-up anxiety, every buried shame, the entire terrible burden of pain, every single moment Willow had spent in the closet. No matter how deep they were all buried, Tara found them. She caressed them away.
A few minutes into the massage, Willow cried. Willow cried, as Tara rooted out all the ugly things that had festered in the dark just beneath her flesh, and opened her up to the light.
Everywhere Tara caressed her, Tara kissed her, too. She kissed her, and whispered in her ear sometimes.
"My sweetie," Tara whispered in her ear. "I love my sweetie."
"I love you too," Willow whispered back.
Tara unhooked Willow's bra.
"Gonna take this off, sweetie, okay?" Tara said. "Makes it easier to reach everywhere."
Willow nodded. Tara took her bra off, and set it aside.
Willow blushed.
"You a little shy, sweetie?" Tara said.
"I'm all...just...sorta naked over here," Willow said, looking back at her.
As Willow watched, Tara took off her shawl, and set it aside...and took off her camisole.
She wasn't wearing a bra underneath it. Tara's big, beautiful breasts bounced out from beneath the camisole like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.
"Better?" Tara said.
"Wow," Willow said. "Those are just...wow."
"I am so seducing you," Tara said, and giggled.
Willow stood on the stage, looking out at the crowd. The crowd sat there in the dark auditorium, a sea of bored, listless faces. Willow felt very self-conscious, standing up there in front of all those people in her toga. She was glad she was able to wear clothes underneath it, at least. She noticed Giles in the audience, smiling. He was the only person smiling.
She wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. She tried to dredge up the words she had rehearsed...and then she moved into the spotlight.
"Oh, ruler of my country," Willow said, stammering out the words like she was reading them off cue cards, as people in the audience fidgeted in their chairs and checked their watches. "Oedipus, you see our company around the altar, and I, the priest of Zeus!"
Xander stepped into the spotlight, nearly tripping over his fake wooden staff.
"Ha, ha!" he said, doing a poor approximation of a bitter laugh, his hand shaking a little as he clutched the staff. He looked good in a toga, Willow thought. She wished he hadn't worn clothes underneath it. She knew he had great legs. "They prophesize that I should kill my father," Xander continued. "But he is dead."
Xander knelt down on the stage and did a hasty approximation of picking up a handful of dirt in his shaking hand.
"And hidden deep in the soil," Xander said, too loud, and after pausing for dramatic effect at the wrong point in the sentence. "But surely I must fear my mother's bed."
Buffy, who had been standing beside Willow gritting her teeth the entire time, practically sprang into the spotlight when it was her turn to speak, like a toga-wearing lion suddenly leaping right into the midst of a herd of zebras. She glared out at the audience, looking for signs of weakness in the herd.
"OhOedipusOedipusunhappyOedipus," Buffy practically roared, barking out the words so quickly that they all ran together. She put her hand on Xander's head as he knelt on the stage, and rolled her eyes. "ThatisallIcancallyouandallthatIevershallcallyou." She snatched her hand away and sprang back out of the spotlight again, like a lion leaping up into a tree after suddenly being confronted with a pack of hyenas and deciding that the zebra herd just wasn't worth the bother, and that her time would be more profitably spent sunning herself and growling at any animals who dared to happen by and interrupt her sleep. Buffy stood facing away from the audience with her hands on her hips, and looked very much like she was pouting.
"Hey," Faith said.
Willow paused the tape, and hastily wiped the tears from her eyes.
She looked up, and saw Faith standing in the doorway, carrying Annabelle in her arms. Annabelle was holding her stomach, and frowning.
"Hey," Willow said, and got up. "What's wrong with Annabelle?" She stroked Annabelle's hair. "Sweetie? What's wrong, sweetie?"
"Tummy hurts," Annabelle whispered.
"Banana woke up and said she has a stomach ache," Faith said. She smiled. "She's been going pretty wild with the cranberry sauce. She needs her Willow."
Willow took Annabelle out of Faith's hands, and carried her back to the settee.
"What did I tell you about being a cranberry sauce belly?" Willow whispered, and kissed Annabelle's forehead, and sat down on the settee with her, and laid her down in her lap.
"But I like cranberry sauce," Annabelle said.
"I know, sweetie, I really like it too. But it can give lil' tickle bellys tummy aches if they eat too much," Willow said. "But it's okay. I'll make it all better."
Willow slipped her hand underneath Annabelle's nightgown, and started rubbing her belly. At the same time, she found the source of the pain, and healed it...
Willow had never done healing magic before. The method just...occurred to her.
"Is this better, sweetie?" Willow whispered, and smiled. Annabelle nodded her head, and closed her eyes.
Faith watched, standing in the doorway in the dark, as Willow rubbed Annabelle's belly.
"Love my baby," Willow whispered, smiling down at Annabelle. "I love my baby."
"I love you too," Annabelle whispered, and went to sleep.
"You made it all better, huh?" Faith whispered.
"I always make it all better," Willow whispered. "I give great tummy rubs. C'mere, sweetie. You wanna hang out with me?"
"Yeah," Faith said, and sat next to her on the settee, and remembered sitting with a different Willow, in a different place...
But she knew this Willow wasn't hers.
"You and Tara, huh?" Faith said, and grinned.
"Get your mind out of the gutter, Lehane," Willow said, and grinned right back. "She owed me a backrub. I made her pay up. Okay, plus maybe I got to see her boobs."
"Sounds like a party. So what are you doing here?" Faith looked at the television. There was a videotape on pause; the VCR was pretty bad and when it paused the screen it was hard to see the image. It looked like three people wearing togas.
"We gotta all maybe go out to die in a few hours, and I wanted to look at this again first," Willow said. "I took this tape from Xander's house when we were all gettin' our stuff. You remember...when you and me had our slow dance."
Willow was still rubbing Annabelle's belly. Annabelle slept on Willow's lap, perfectly content. Faith watched them together...and remembered another Willow...
"Yeah," Faith said. "I liked that dance."
Willow put her arm around Faith. Faith leaned her head on her shoulder.
"I'll always make it all better for you too, sweetie," Willow said, and kissed her forehead. "Okay? Auntie will always make it all better."
Faith nodded, and curled up against her, and held on to her.
"So what's the tape?" Faith said.
"School talent show back during sophomore year," Willow said. "Principal Asshole Snyder made me and Buffy and Xander do an act so we copped out and did a dramatic reading. Dramatic reading's what you do when you have no talent. Giles was in the audience like, snickering at us." Willow smiled. "Boy, did we suck. But I wanted to see us all together again before we go to the fort. Wanna watch with me?"
"Yeah."
Willow un-paused the tape.
"Darkness!" Xander shouted, and got back up. "And...uh...horror of darkness. Unfolding, restless...uh...visitant? Sped by...an ill wind in haste."
Next to Xander on the stage, Willow looked like she had just seen a ghost. She stood there, paralyzed. Buffy was still pouting. Faith grinned, when she saw Buffy. Faith recognized that look. Whenever Buffy got like that, Faith always tickled her until she smiled.
As Willow looked at the tape, she had tears in her eyes again...Faith watched, as the tears fell down Willow's cheeks.
Faith sat up. "Maybe...I shouldn't be here," Faith said. "This is...this is something you and Buffy and Xander had. I wasn't part of it."
Willow clutched Faith's hand.
"You're part of it now," Willow said. "You always will be. I love you. Stay with me."
"I love you too," Faith said.
"Xander and I...we never should have dated," Willow said, as she watched the screen. "We should've kept it like this. It was so good when it was like this..."
"Madness, and...and...madness a-and...stabbing pain!" Xander said, fumbling his lines now, as Buffy rolled her eyes at him.
"We ruined it," Willow whispered. "We ruined what we had."
"And, a-and, uh...oh... uh...memory of, uh, i-ill deeds I have done," Xander stammered.
"He loved you, Willow," Faith said. "He loved you, honey."
"We ruined it," Willow whispered.
Onstage, Willow was still paralyzed.
"It was...really great for awhile, y'know?" Willow said. "We were all...back in those days, we were...I mean, we were the Scooby Gang. There was nothing we couldn't handle. Set up the Big Bads, knock 'em down. It was so good back then. We were so happy...we were so..."
Willow broke down crying. Faith held her.
Onstage, Willow stared out into the darkness in front of her, frozen. Buffy nudged Willow to cue her, but Willow was still too afraid to speak. She couldn't say the next line.
She ran off the stage.
SECOND COMING
And then it was time to go.
Rebecca found Willow, Faith and Annabelle at five in the morning, asleep on the settee together, and told Willow and Faith that Riley and his people would be there in a military caravan in twenty minutes.
"Is Oz...is he still...all wolfy?" Willow said.
"Yes," Rebecca said. "I just hit him with another shot of the tranquilizer. I don't want you near his cage again. Besides...this isn't how you would want to remember him, Willow. Don't say goodbye to him this way. Instead of saying goodbye, plan on coming back."
Annabelle was still asleep, and Willow decided not to wake her. Instead, she kissed her forehead, and told her she loved her, and then she carried her to Cordy's room, and put her in Cordy's arms as Cordy laid there in her bed yawning and bitching about what time it was. Angel was in the room, getting dressed. He had slept with Cordy the night before.
There was something at the back of Willow's mind, as she handed Annabelle to Cordy. Like part of her was disconnected from the rest of her. After Angel left the room, Willow said something to Cordy, and she didn't understand why she said it.
"She's gonna remember her parents today," Willow said, as Cordy curled up with Annabelle under the covers. "She's gonna remember that they're dead. She's been blocking it out, but she's gonna remember today and she's gonna freak. When it happens, I want you to tell her that her parents are alive and they love her, and she's gonna see them again tonight."
"Willow, that's a lie," Cordy said. "Okay, yeah, I had Tara do the glamour thing where she pretended to be you, but that was temporary and we were betting on getting the real you back. This is a lie you can't cover up. What happens when her parents are still dead tonight?"
"They won't be," Willow said...and had no idea why she said it.
Willow woke Tara up herself. She wanted to be the one to wake her up.
Tara laid under the covers, snoring very softly, her breasts rising and falling in a slow, gentle rhythm as she breathed. Willow sat on the edge of her bed, and watched her a moment.
"Hey, beautiful," Willow whispered in her ear.
Tara opened her eyes, and smiled.
"Mmmm...hi sweetie," Tara whispered.
"We gotta go," Willow said. "Riley and his guys will be here soon."
Tara nodded, and yawned, and stretched.
Willow turned back the covers, so she could see Tara's breasts. The crystal pendant glimmered between Tara's breasts like a little star.
Willow kissed the pendant. Then she kissed Tara's breasts..
"Perv," Tara whispered.
"I'm still straight," Willow said.
"For now," Tara said, and smiled again, and kissed her.
Faith found Buffy in their bedroom, reading a book.
"Almost time to go," Faith said. "Whatcha reading?"
"Giles' Watcher diary," Buffy said.
Faith sat down beside her.
"You weren't around when I woke up," Buffy said. "I woke up in the living room about an hour ago and I thought...we'd have time to sneak off and...be together again before we left. Last night was fun, but...that was us playing our games. I wanted our last time before the fight to be...no toy, no games. Y'know, just...us. Just us being soft."
"There's gonna be more times. Banana had a stomach ache and she wanted Will. So we went and found Will and then we all sorta fell asleep together on the couch watching this video of you and Will and Xander at a talent show."
"Dramatic reading," Buffy said. "We all knew we were gonna be the lamest thing ever so we wouldn't let our parents come see us."
"You look hot in a toga, lover. Who taped you guys? Giles?"
"No, video cameras were invented this century. Giles was always suspicious of stuff invented this century."
Buffy closed the book.
"Wait a minute," Buffy said. "Who filmed us? It wasn't like a school thing, it was a home video just of us. None of us had anyone there and I know Giles didn't film us. Who taped the video?"
"Will said she got it from Xander's house," Faith said. "Was it his video? Maybe he had like a friend at the talent show?"
"No, it was my video, we always kept it at my house. Will and Xander didn't have video cameras anyway, the video camera was my Mom's. Xander just borrowed the tape a few weeks ago. But it was my video."
"You sure Joyce didn't show?"
"She didn't. After I like ordered her not to come she went to do some work at her gallery. I actually called there just before we went onstage to check and make sure she wasn't coming."
"Maybe your Dad filmed you?"
"He didn't come. Even if I wanted him to be there he wouldn't have come. Okay, this is actually getting weird now. I've had that video for like a year and a half and now I'm suddenly realizing I have no idea how I got it. I remember someone handing it to me right after the show... but...it wasn't my Mom. She wasn't there. It was...someone else. Someone was there...they came to see us. I just can't remember who. It was...someone..."
Buffy finally shook her head.
"Chalk it up as one of life's little mysteries I guess," Buffy said.
Faith put her arm around her. She looked at the book.
"That about you?" Faith said.
"Yeah," Buffy said. "I've been reading about how intractable I am."
Buffy wiped a tear from her eye.
"Can I read it with you sometime?" Faith said.
"Yeah," Buffy said. "If we survive this."
Buffy set the book aside.
"We gotta get ready to go, but...there's something I want you to have, before we leave," Buffy said. "I don't want us to like, say a lot of stuff about it or have a big heartfelt conversation because there's no time and we might all be dead anyway. I just...want you to have this, Faith."
"Have what?" Faith said.
Buffy took off the ring she wore on the ring finger of her right hand. It was a gold ring with two hearts, inlaid with diamonds. Her grandmother had given it to her mother, and her mother had given it to her.
She took Faith's right hand in hers, and put the ring on Faith's finger.
"I love you," Buffy whispered, and kissed her.
"I don't get it," Willow said, as they soared through the time stream in Thor's chariot. It was a rough ride; it was like shooting rapids. The time stream, which appeared to Willow's eyes as bursts of light racing endlessly toward them through a black tunnel, but which was actually a maelstrom of gravimetric forces with enough power to squash a star, raged all around them like a typhoon. But as the chariot careened through that black tunnel exploding with rainbow light, the void outside of it was entirely silent. Willow thought there should have been thunderous, calamitous explosions befitting the fury of that terrible storm; it should have sounded like they were riding a tidal wave. Instead, everything was quiet. It sounded like they were making their way across a placid lake. But the storm still pummeled them relentlessly as they seemingly inched forward like a ship tacking into the wind, while actually traveling faster than the speed of light, and as the chariot streaked through the eerily silent chaos, the horrendous pressures within the time stream lanced into it like broadsides of cannon fire, each volley threatening to send them spiraling out of control. And Willow noticed the effect was getting worse with each passing moment. She did her best to ignore it. "Okay, so this evil giant guy disguises himself as a stonemason and says he'll rebuild Asgard's walls after that war you guys had against Freyja's relatives, and he says he wants the sun, the moon, and Freyja's hand in marriage as payment..."
The ride hadn't been so rough before, when she was traveling to Asgard from Earth. Now, the chariot was bouncing around like a pinball and Thor could barely keep it under control. Willow had created a time portal to help guide the goats back to 1998, because the time stream was treacherous now, like navigating a stormy sea; Willow's time portal served as a kind of beacon. Even so, the goats could just barely hold to their course, and the chariot rattled and shook and convulsed so terribly under the crushing pressure of the time stream that Willow wasn't at all certain it would hold together...
"An outrageous demand," Thor said, as he stood tall in the teeth of the storm at the front of the chariot, holding the reins. "I would have told him to begone."
"But of course Loki thought we might cheat our way to an advantage," Freyja said, sitting beside Loki in the back of the chariot and staring daggers as the chariot bounced the two of them around back there like they were stuck together in a bumper car.
"You didn't actually have to marry him, did you?" Loki grumbled. "You've been complaining about this for five-thousand years, woman! Will I never hear an end to it?"
"So Loki tells the guy that they'll accept his terms, but only if he can finish the whole job by himself in six months, and if he doesn't he gets nothing," Willow said. "And the guy says, sure, as long as I can use my horse to help move the stone blocks..."
"I didn't accept his terms," Freyja growled.
"You and your miserable clan didn't get to make decisions in those days, if you recall," Loki said. "We defeated you after all."
"It was a negotiated peace!" Freyja shouted, and leapt up. "We were not defeated!"
"We are one people now, cousin," Thor said.
"Aye, and more's the shame," Loki muttered. "Five-thousand years and Freyja and all the rest of her barbaric Vanir rabble still haven't been properly housetrained. Asgard was glorious when only we Aesir dwelt there. Then Freyja's peasant people had to come along like a pack of ill-mannered dogs shitting on the carpets."
"Loki, if you don't shut up I will cut off your head and feed it to Thor's goats!" Freyja screamed, with her hand on her sword hilt.
"Loki, I agreed to bring you along in the belief that we would not have to fight a battle on the way to the battle," Thor said, like an exasperated parent trying to keep the peace between two hyperactive children on a long car trip, as he guided the chariot through the storm.
"These Vanir simply can't control their passions," Loki said, frowning at the howling havoc all around them. "They are a rough folk, better suited to the wild lands than to Asgard's gleaming spires. I only say what all right-thinking people know to be true."
"Rodent," Freyja muttered, and sat down again.
"So then the evil stonemason guy actually rebuilds the wall so fast that it looks like he's gonna really finish it all by himself in six months, and you guys all get worried," Willow said, ignoring Loki and Freyja. Willow had spent a lot of time with Asgardians and over the years she had developed a finely-honed sense of when they were screaming and threatening to kill each other just to show off, and when they were screaming and threatening to kill each other because they actually meant to try to kill each other. Freyja wasn't quite at the point of cutting Loki's head off yet. "So you guys tell Loki he better find a way to stop the guy from finishing in six months because there's no way you're just gonna give this guy Freyja and the sun and the moon, and so Loki changes himself to a female horse and seduces the guy's horse so it'll run off with him and stop helping the guy build the wall."
"Aye," Thor said, as if that sort of thing was an everyday occurrence.
"Why does she always get this way before a battle?" Loki said. "Always yammering on and on asking pointless questions. Loki, why isn't Thor's hair red? All the Viking sagas say his hair is supposed to be red. Loki, how could the gods have made, like, every single thing in the world swear an oath not to hurt Balder? What about germs? Did germs swear an oath not to hurt Balder? Loki, why didn't mistletoe swear the oath too? What did mistletoe have against Balder? Does this mean mistletoe is secretly evil? But I like mistletoe! Loki, how can Yggdrasil actually stretch out into space when it's a tree and there's no oxygen or rain in space? Wouldn't it just, y'know, die? Loki, how can you guys all pre-date Viking civilization by tens of thousands of years if the Vikings were the ones who conjured all you guys up in the first place? Loki, why can't goblins look the way they do in Lord of the Rings? The goblins in Lord of the Rings were totally cooler than your goblins. Loki, why doesn't Asgard have chocolate? Loki--"
"His name was Svaoilfari," Loki said.
"You remember the horse's name?" Willow said, looking back at him and holding on tight with both hands to the edge of her seat as the chariot jostled her around like someone had dropped her in a blender. "You got a crush on the horse or something?"
"We were lovers for awhile," Loki said. "It would be rude not to remember his name."
Willow sighed. "Okay, fine, so you and Svaoilfari had a kid together, Sleipnir, the eight-legged horse that Odin rides. And what I'm saying is, don't any of you guys just find it kinda... y'know...yucky, that Odin rides Sleipnir? I mean...technically speaking, the horse is his grandson, right? So Odin rides his grandson into battle. He rides his grandson."
"Hello? He rides his grandson!"
"But Sleipnir is a horse," Freyja said.
Willow sighed again.
"Y'know, say what you want about the Greek gods, but they don't go around riding their own grandsons into battle," Willow said. "I'm just sayin' is all."
"Nay, the Greeks ride their sons, and the prettier the better," Loki said, to general laughter.
"Aye!" Freyja shouted. "They ride them straight into the bedroom."
"Boy-lovers," Thor muttered. "And that wretch Heracles is the worst of the lot."
"Okay, can we not have the whole Heracles discussion again?" Willow said.
"He dared come to Odin's very palace, and challenge Thor himself!" Freyja said.
"And he cheated, when I had the upper hand in our battle," Thor said. "He brought that treacherous old cripple Hephaestus with him, and dared to try to steal Mjolnir! But I should have expected as much, from a conniving Greek."
"But we showed them the folly of their ways, brother," Loki said. "They could not out-connive Loki."
Thor laughed again. "Aye, they'll think twice before sending such rubbish to trouble us again. Thor, at least, was a labor Heracles could not complete."
"And where is Heracles anyway?" Loki said. "All Midgard is imperiled, and I don't see any of those ridiculous Greeks lifting a finger to help. Nay, it always comes down to Thor and Loki in the end. The Greeks drink their wine and recite their poetry and put on their plays, they shape their pottery and sculpt their statues and hold their games, but do they fight? They've disappeared up their own backsides as far as I can make out."
"Athena has steel," Thor said. "I wouldn't give a fig for the rest."
"Athena's a tiresome twat," Loki muttered.
There was an explosion of light, and the chariot nearly capsized.
"Odin's beard!" Freyja shouted. "Will this maelstrom never cease? It only grows worse every second! Is traveling through the ages always so perilous?"
"Nay," Loki said, and stood up, and sniffed at the darkness as the chariot hurtled headlong into the black void bursting with beams of rainbow light. "This storm is not typical."
"Maybe someone up there doesn't like you bad-mouthing Athena," Willow said.
"Don't be ridiculous," Loki said. "It is Midgard! There are two paths before it now, and it has yet to settle upon one! Thor! This storm may yet destroy us before we reach the battlefield! If we lose your chariot here, we will be stranded in the time stream! And there can be no--"
Willow screamed, as another explosion rocked them; this time they did capsize. Thor grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the chariot an instant before she was sucked out into space. He held her with one hand and did his best to right the chariot with the other as it careened onward into the void.
"Willow!" Loki shouted. "I will shape your time portal with my magic! If I alter its frequency precisely I should be able to manipulate it until it draws us straight on to our destination, like a magnet! But, look!" He pointed ahead. Willow saw her portal there, appearing in that void as a tiny, flickering light in the darkness. "Your portal is wavering, losing power in the storm! Without it to guide us I do not think we can find our destination now! Channel your energy into it, hold it together while I shape it! Do not allow the storm to snuff it out, or we will all be lost!"
"It is done!" Loki shouted, and pointed up ahead again. Willow's time portal blazed ahead of them in the void like a star. "Thor, quickly! Spur the goats straight toward it!"
"Tanngrisnir, Tanngnjóstr!" Thor shouted, his voice thundering through the void like the very Word of God at the beginning of Creation. "Run, run! Run faster than you ever have before! RACE THE LIGHTNING!"
"Faith," Willow whispered, as she held on tight. "I'm coming, baby."
The seven of them stood together in the chapel...in the dark, barren, forgotten little room in the basement of the fort, abandoned for over a century now, where Willow would have to save the world. The battle would be fought outside the fort. But it was here, in this simple, centuries-old sanctuary with its single pew, its plain stone cross hanging on the wall, and its rotted old wooden altar adorned with only a single moth-eaten linen cloth, a crumbling old Bible, and two candles in tarnished silver holders, where the world would be saved...or lost.
The chapel was small, about as big as a storeroom; Willow, Rebecca, Faith, Buffy, Tara, Angel and Riley could just barely fit in there together. The walls were granite, and the room was cold. The air was musty, and cobwebs hung in the corners, and there were no windows. The old wooden door had collapsed, so Riley's men had set up a new one, made of steel. The heavy door swung inward without a sound and it was held shut by thick steel bars that dug deep into the granite walls on each side of the door. Willow would be alone in there...she would be expected to set the steel bars in place after everyone left her, and then sit there in the dark, and meditate, and pray...and wait.
"These things are itchy," Buffy said, pulling at her uniform; the Initiative had brought uniforms for all of them, with kevlar armor pieces. "Anybody else itchy?"
"Kinda, yeah," Willow said. Their voices fell flat, decaying like everything else in there. The room wasn't much bigger than a closet, Willow thought. She made herself stop thinking about it.
"Want someone with you?" Faith said, and put her hand on Willow's shoulder, as they stood there in the gloom, looking up at the altar. The altar stood at the top of a dusty, cracked granite step, and the stone cross hung on the wall behind it.
"Can't, sweetie," Willow said. "I already talked to Becca about this...about the stuff I read in the book. I gotta do the ceremony alone. No one can be in here with me."
"But someone can be outside the door though," Riley said. "Just like we planned, we're gonna have guys with machine guns and flamethrowers in the hall. One reason we liked this place so much when we were scouting around for defensible structures that stood on holy ground is this chapel is a pain in the ass to reach. We're at the bottom of the fort, and this fort is solid granite through and through. Chapel's got no windows, only one way in, and coming down that long narrow hall is the only way to get to it. A few guys outside your door could hold off hundreds of vamps if they have enough ammo. And they're gonna have enough ammo."
"Like the Battle of Monopoly," Buffy said. "Y'know, the Spartans."
Willow smiled, and hugged Buffy as hard as she could.
"Yeah, sweetie," Willow said. "Just like the Battle of Monopoly."
Buffy held on to Willow.
"I won't let anyone get to you," Buffy whispered. "I won't. I'll die first."
"You already died for me once," Willow whispered back.
Rebecca wouldn't let anyone say goodbye. As Willow lit the two candles on the altar, they all wished her luck, but Rebecca wouldn't let any of them say goodbye to her.
"Because we're going to win," Rebecca had said, and kissed Willow's cheek. "We'll see you soon, darling. I know you're going to be just fine in here. But if you get scared, if you need me, if you need me for anything at all, I'm leaving you a radio, all right? You call, and I'll come running, and the rules of the ritual can just bugger off."
Willow smiled. "I'll be okay," she said.
And then, one by one, they had all wished Willow luck, and left her...
When Faith hugged her, they looked in each other's eyes, and didn't speak. They had both said everything they needed to say the night before.
Willow gave Tara a kiss, as she left. A good one. She didn't care who saw.
"I'm still straight," Willow whispered in Tara's ear, as she hugged her.
"For now," Tara whispered back.
When they were all gone, Angel remained behind. He stood in the corner, watching Willow as she took the book with the meditation ritual out of her book bag, along with a pillow and a can of Sprite. She set up the book and the pillow in front of the altar, knelt on the pillow, opened the book, popped the top off of the Sprite, and took a sip.
"I know what you want to ask me," Willow said. "So ask."
Angel moved beside her, and looked up at the cross behind the altar.
"Did you mean what you said? Did you mean it when you forgave me?" Angel said.
"Yeah," Willow said. "When I was in the closet it felt like...I was getting rid of all the stuff I didn't need anymore, all the stuff that wasn't essential. The bitterness I've felt toward you ever since Angelus...I didn't want to carry that around anymore. But I didn't just forgive you for my sake. I forgave you for your sake, too."
She looked up at him, and took his hand.
"I haven't given up on you, Angel," she said. "Okay...yeah, tried to kill you a couple of weeks ago. I hated you in my heart for awhile, because you hurt me. But you were only able to hurt me so bad because I already cared about you so much. Spike, the Master, Kakistos...those guys all hurt me too but you were the one who broke my heart, Angel. You were the one who hurt me more than anyone else, because you matter to me. And when I became this bitter, vengeful person, this person I couldn't stand looking at in the mirror, it made me hate you even more for turning me into that. Hate feeds on itself and creates more hate. It sucks you dry until there's nothing left in you. I won't allow that to happen to me. Thanks for saving my life last night, by the way. How many times has it been now? How many times have you saved my life?"
"Uh...I don't keep count," Angel said.
Willow smiled.
"Sure you do," she said. "How many times?"
Willow saw his mouth move, in the candlelight. He nearly smiled.
"Seven, counting yesterday," Angel said. "I wasn't really counting. I just have a really good memory."
"Sure," Willow said. "And your hair just does that by itself."
Rebecca, Buffy, Faith, Angel and Riley stood on the wall, looking out at the field. Even though it was technically morning, the full moon had risen in the black sky, a great red eye glaring grimly down upon them, and staining the grassy valley below with its profane light. The ground ran red as a slaughterhouse. But there was a fair wind, and the air smelled like the sea.
"This place was an excellent choice, Captain," Rebecca said. "We might hold them off here a good long time."
"We're just lucky it had that chapel," Riley said. "If it weren't for the holy ground thing we could've holed up back at the base instead. When the Initiative is locked down tight we can take a nuke. No church there though."
"There aren't a whole lot of us," Buffy said. "The First has like every bad guy in the world. Yeah, we have weapons, but..."
"Take a look around," Rebecca said. "Take a good look, Buffy, and then tell me why this place gives us some advantages in this battle."
"Is there gonna be a quiz?" Buffy said.
Rebecca raised her eyebrow. Buffy was beginning to get a feel for Rebecca's facial expressions, and she knew that particular eyebrow raise, without a smile accompanying it but not a frown either, meant that Rebecca was being patient for the moment but that she wasn't in the mood for jokes. Buffy took a look around.
Fort Moore was a sixty-foot tall defensive tower made of granite block walls seven feet thick, built atop a hill overlooking the Los Angeles harbor on San Pedro Bay, and it had been abandoned for more than a century. The fort overlooked the harbor on three sides. It was designed to fend off an attack by water, and it packed enough cannon to do the job quite effectively, in the nineteenth century. For this battle, Riley and the Initiative had very quickly brought the place up to spec. Thirty soldiers were in position on the ramparts with rocket-propelled grenade launchers with fuel-air explosive warheads, and automatic rifles with telescopic sights. In the valley below, another one-hundred and eighty soldiers stood waiting behind the outer breastwork wall, a four-foot high ring of granite blocks a good distance from the entrance to the fort that surrounded the entire structure and allowed the soldiers to take defensive positions and fire from cover. Those soldiers were equipped with rifles, flamethrowers, and stakes. But when Buffy looked down at them, they didn't look like much. The grassy valley below the fort was huge; the soldiers were a paltry handful, nowhere near enough to adequately defend the place. Buffy didn't know much about military tactics, but just looking at those soldiers down there, just looking at all the holes in their defensive line, Buffy knew they were in trouble. Vampires were fast. Some of them might slip through...
And then it would be up to Tara. There was only one way into the fort, the entrance at the top of the hill, barred by a massive granite door Riley's men had reinforced. Tara was behind that door, ready to cast her energy shields. Tara could cast a shield without having to see where she was placing it; she visualized the shield and its surroundings in her head, the way she did with locator spells. It was something Willow couldn't do, but Tara seemed to have an affinity for energy shields and according to Willow she had progressed rapidly in the single day they had practiced together. They'd all had a two-hour trip to the fort in an armored military convoy with War himself riding ahead of them, and they hadn't been attacked, which left them plenty of time to come up with a plan on the way after Riley described the fort and its defenses for them. Buffy hadn't paid much attention when they were discussing the plan; she had spent the trip talking to Willow and Tara, while Rebecca and Riley and Angel came up with the plan, and Faith divided her time between both groups. But Buffy knew Rebecca's biggest concern about the plan was that so much depended on Tara, and that until Tara actually cast her shield, she would be vulnerable. Tara couldn't cast her shield until the enemy was nearly upon them, because her shields had a limited duration and they would need to squeeze every second they could out of it. But until she cast her shield, one shot from a sniper rifle could kill Tara instantly before any of them even knew they were under attack.
As the armored truck lurched along, Buffy, Faith, Willow and Tara had become engaged in a lively debate about the relative hotness of Uma Thurman compared to Angelina Jolie, a beautiful young actress Buffy and Tara had each seen in a movie called Gia and Willow and Faith had each seen in a movie called Hackers. Buffy thought Angelina was prettier, and Willow agreed, while being sure to stress that she was straight and she actually wanted to cast a write-in ballot for Ricky Martin, while Faith and Tara both preferred Uma.
At which point Rebecca had said, "If I'm the enemy, whom you'll remember can spy on us at will and who therefore will know our plans down to the letter, the very first thing I would do is kill Tara from a distance using a rifle with a telescopic sight before we even knew we were under attack. Demons and vampires hardly ever use guns, it just isn't done, but the First is smart. They find a sniper rifle out there somewhere, they manage to shoot Tara in the head from a thousand feet out and now we have no way to cast energy shields. She needs to be inside the fort, somewhere they can't possibly get a bead on her from a distance."
After that, everyone spent the remainder of the trip listening to the plan.
"They all have to come to us," Buffy said, as she stood upon the ramparts under a black sky looking down at the valley now by the light of the blood-red moon, and wondered how long they would last once the attack came. Twenty minutes? An hour? "And they shouldn't have weapons, demons and vampires almost never have weapons. A few might have knives or swords, but demons and vamps like to use their hands. We've got guns, grenades, long-range stuff. All we have to do is sit here behind cover firing at them while they have to run uphill trying to reach us, and the only way in is that door down there, so it's like we're funneling them. They won't be able to use their numbers against us too well, it's the whole Battle of Monopoly idea again. This place overlooks the water on three sides. I guess they could try to come at us in boats, but that would be dumb because one rocket blows a boat out of the water. So they'll come at us through the valley and we'll hit them with everything we have while they're still like a quarter-mile away. Before they even reach that stone wall down there we can take a big bite out of them."
"Excellent," Rebecca said. "You pass the quiz. For extra credit, you might have mentioned that Riley's people mined the approach."
"How many mines?" Angel said.
"We laid down enough out there to take out a thousand vamps easy," Riley said. "They're remote-detonated so we can make sure they don't go off until we get as much bang for our buck as possible. Those guys think they've got us pinned down, but we're gonna make them pay for every inch of ground."
Faith leaned on the wall of the rampart, looking down at the valley, and knowing she was going to die. She had accepted it. She had Rebecca with her, so she could die now if she had to.
"This thing's gonna be a series of retreats," Faith said. "That's how it's gonna play out. The First isn't stupid. Its advantage is numbers and it'll use its advantage. Will said the First told her tens of thousands. We're not here to take them all down, we're here to stop them reaching Will as long as we can. We're expendable. So we hit 'em with the mines, and then we hit 'em with the grenades, and then we hit 'em with the rifles, and then when they're coming to the wall Becca does the smoke spell and we hit 'em with everything, including me and B and Angel. This thing goes right, we won't take our first casualty until then, and they'll have taken thousands. But it doesn't matter, because they're just gonna keep coming. Eventually they'll get past the wall, then we fall back to Tara and she does her shield. Tara says she can make her shield burn them, so that's more bad guys down. But they'll keep coming at Tara's shield until it falls. Victory here isn't about surviving. It's about holding them off so Willow survives long enough to do what she has to do. I know you gave Will and Tara that pep talk about how everything's gonna be cool and we're all gonna be home in time for supper, Becca. But anyone with eyes can see we're on a kamikaze mission here."
Rebecca put her arm around her. Then she put her other arm around Buffy.
"I agree there isn't much hope of us surviving this," Rebecca said. "But hope isn't what's important, girls. Faith is. We have to have faith."
"Can we have faith plus maybe ten-thousand more guys?" Buffy said.
"I'd settle for our friend on the horse at least," Rebecca said. "Where the devil is he now? He escorted us here and then he left."
"He does that," Riley said. "He'll be back."
"He will, for a fact," War said, suddenly galloping out of the black sky above them like a falling star. His beautiful white horse alighted gracefully on the ramparts beside them.
"Well, well, speak of the Devil and he shall appear," Rebecca said, folding her arms across her chest and frowning as she looked straight into the eyes of one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. "You're like bloody Mary Poppins, aren't you. Are you planning on staying awhile, or are you just here to chat?"
War chuckled.
"Greer, you remind me of my mother-in-law, and I don't say that lightly," he said. "I've been scouting out the enemy. I counted forty-two thousand, give or take, coming in straight for that valley and movin' dreadful quick. They'll be here in an hour, and they've got what looks like about four-hundred advance scouts that'll be here in five minutes. I'd say this place is about to get hotter than a whorehouse on nickel night."
"Forty-two thousand," Riley said. "Well...I guess we're stuck with it."
"Forty-two thousand," Buffy said, and giggled. "Forty-two thousand! Against...what, a little more than two-hundred? We're outnumbered two-hundred to one!"
"What about the other Horsemen?" Angel said. "Are they gonna be here? Are they gonna try to stop us?"
"Reckon they will," War said. "We were released to end the world, not to save it. It just so happens I love a good fight. But you leave them boys to me. Nothing you folks can bring will so much as scratch their hides. And I ain't seen hide nor hair of 'em yet, but they'll be along." War pulled his sword out of his scabbard, and held it up, and contemplated it. It cleaved the darkness like a lightning bolt. "And when they do, we're gonna have us a hog-killin' time."
"Forty-two thousand," Buffy said. "Think somebody up there hates us, baby?"
"Have faith, Buffy," Rebecca said. "Sometimes having faith is the hardest thing in the world. Right now it's the hardest thing in the world. But you have to do it anyway. I know you're strong enough to do it anyway."
Faith kissed Buffy's cheek. "Becca's always right," Faith whispered.
"It's just...it's just...I don't want Willow to die," Buffy whispered back, with tears filling her eyes.
"Everything's about love, honey," Faith said...
And Angel suddenly started sniffing the air.
"Demons," Angel said. "But..."
Riley's radio crackled to life. "Cap," Forrest's voice blurted out of it. "We're pickin' up some bogies from up here on the roof. Seein' what looks like a buncha...green guys."
"Green guys?" Riley said into his radio. "You can do better than that, Forrest."
"Wait," Buffy said. "Green? Green demons?"
"They gotta be demons, and they look pretty big," Forrest said. "There's maybe four hundred of 'em, marchin' up the valley, just comin' into range. They're gonna hit the mines soon. I don't think we wanna waste the minefield on only a few hundred, but they'll be in rifle range any second. Ready to hit 'em on your order, Cap."
"Wait!" Angel shouted. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"
Buffy and Faith were sniffing the air now too.
"Why the hell not?" Forrest said. "Dudes are demons."
Buffy was smiling now.
"Because I think they're on our side," she said.
Willow knelt on the pillow in front of the altar, with the book open in front of her and the radio beside her, and finished her Sprite.
She had meditated before, she had prayed before--she had even prayed to the Goddess before. She knew how to do this. But this time, it was different. Now, she wasn't just sending her thoughts into the ether without expecting a response. Now, when she prayed, when she repeated the words of the ritual in her mind, over and over again, she had to get a response. She had to summon an angel...she had to plead to the Goddess...and for the first time in her life, she had to know the Goddess was listening.
But Willow didn't think the Goddess ever really listened to people's prayers. The world she saw when she watched the news every morning wasn't the kind of world where a Creator listened to people's prayers...
If the Goddess did exist--if the Goddess wasn't just a fantasy--Willow thought maybe She was angry. Angry with the world...so She had let it die.
Willow had been trying to meditate for more than an hour now and nothing had happened. Usually, she was good at meditating. Usually, it relaxed her. Now, all she could think about as she knelt on the pillow in front of the altar in that cold, gloomy cell of stone was that steel bar across the door...how small the room was, without even a window...how she had to be in there alone, and no one could even come in to check on her...how she was locked in there...
Willow's knees hurt. She was tired of being there and she was tired of constantly worrying that her fear of enclosed spaces would overtake her. She had been aware of her breathing since she had thrown the bar over the door.
She was supposed to be concentrating on the meditation ritual. Instead, she found herself thinking about other things.
She thought about Oz. She wished she'd had a chance to say goodbye to him...but he scared her, when he was a wolf. The year before, he hadn't looked like that when he was a wolf. He was changing, somehow...becoming worse. Willow remembered his fetid smell, like sex and piss mingled together, and his hateful eyes, and the cruel intelligence she had seen in them...he tried to kill her through the bars without a second thought. And Willow knew he always would... she knew there was something in Oz that would always want to hurt her...
Just like Angel.
Willow couldn't really grasp it. Couldn't make sense of it. All her life, it had puzzled her, that good people could do such terrible things...that good people could have something evil inside them. That they could hurt her, and even enjoy it. She had tried and tried to understand it, and she never could. Not just her enemies had hurt her. Her friends, her parents...people who were supposed to care about her had hurt her, too. They had hurt her worse than anyone.
Xander hurt her, by refusing to accept her, and then leaving her, and then not loving her enough to save her, when the First took his form. Buffy hurt her by choosing Angel over her. Angel hurt her in a thousand ways...and her mother hurt her, and her father hurt her...
Willow wondered when Tara would hurt her. She wondered if she should just let Tara go, hide from these feelings, never let them hurt her again...
Buffy had hurt her because she loved Angel, Willow knew. Xander had hurt her because he loved a Willow who was gone...a Willow who loved someone else, now.
"Love," Willow whispered. "It all comes down to love. We do everything for love."
"Yes," a voice said.
And Willow turned, and saw the angel.
"Kree'shon," Rebecca said. "I've heard of you. Warriors. You go where the fight is."
Rebecca stood in the valley below the fort, face to face with four-hundred Kree'shon warriors, and looked their high priestess in the eye.
Buffy and Faith stood beside her. Angel and Riley were there too--standing a little behind Rebecca, at Angel's urging.
Faith didn't like the Kree'shon, Buffy could tell. There was a low growl rumbling up from Faith's stomach. She was in a fighting stance, and her body was so tense that you could have ironed clothes on her. She kept her eye on the Kree'shon, and kept her hand on her sword.
Rebecca had heard of the Kree'shon, but she had never met them before. Angel had, and so he gave Rebecca, Faith and Riley a quick tutorial on proper etiquette before they came down to the valley to meet them. Riley didn't like it much, having to stand there and stay quiet while a demon and a civilian made decisions that would affect his troops, but the Kree'shon would instantly triple his forces and give him the bodies he needed to properly defend the fort. And they were big bodies. They were all about seven feet tall, with plenty of muscle to go with it. They all looked nearly identical, with green skin, dark hair that grew straight up and out in all directions in chunks, a grouping of green horns sticking out of their foreheads, and flower tattoos on their cheeks. But then Riley assumed the Kree'shon probably thought all humans looked alike too. The Kree'shon all wore earrings, necklaces and armor pieces made of bone, that Angel said they took from the corpses of fallen enemies. All the demons carried the same weapon, a giant, curved blade like a scimitar, that probably could have doubled as a canoe paddle.
Riley needed the Kree'shon. So he kept his mouth shut, and he was glad Forrest wasn't with him. In fact he had them all shut their radios off before they came down to the valley, so Forrest couldn't say anything stupid over the air.
"And now, the fight is here," the high priestess of the Kree'shon said, and smiled. Her teeth were numerous and long and sharp, and they were arranged in rows, like a shark.
The high priestess looked at Buffy.
"Hello again, Slayer," she said. "Is this woman your...what is the word...Watcher?"
"Yeah," Buffy said.
"Smart, British, drinks tea," the high priestess said, and smiled again at Rebecca. "Drives an evil car. Believes you are...intractable."
"You've got it all right except for the car," Rebecca said. "We're working on her intractability problem."
"And I can tell by her scent that this is the other Slayer...Faith," the high priestess said, as she looked at Faith for the first time, her smile growing much wider now. "I think she would very much like to kill me."
"Very much wanna kill all of you," Faith said. "Like Pringles chips. Once you pop, you just can't stop."
"Oh boy," Angel muttered.
The high priestess threw her head back, and laughed. The rest of the Kree'shon laughed with her. It sounded like a rockslide.
"Except I wasn't kidding," Faith said.
"I know," the high priestess said, when her laughter subsided. "That is why we laughed. Not because you are humorous. Because we find you enjoyable. You have fire, and so few of you human animals do. We Kree'shon appreciate fire, girl. Though you should understand that if you were a male I would have killed you where you stand for such an insolent remark. We have come to aid you in this battle. There will be enough killing to go around, I daresay."
"I daresay," Faith said. She wasn't growling anymore, Buffy noticed. But she was still in her fighting stance, and she hadn't taken her hand from her sword.
"Who leads here?" the high priestess said. "We waste time with pleasantries. There are forty-thousand enemies on the way here and we must arrange our battle."
Angel had told them this would come up. The Kree'shon may have been seven-feet tall and able to fling cars around but their society was nevertheless a strict matriarchy and if they wanted the Kree'shon's help, Angel told them they'd have to put a woman in command. Riley had assented, because there really was no other choice: they needed every soldier they could find. Riley had wanted Sam for the job, but Angel had said they would need someone who understood demon psychology, who could hold their own against the Kree'shon...
"I lead here," Rebecca said.
The high priestess looked Rebecca in the eyes. Rebecca looked straight back.
The high priestess smiled again. She raised her hand. Three of the Kree'shon stepped forward.
"He is Ve'dron, our Kai," the high priestess said, pointing at the largest one, the one who wore a bone circlet around his head. "He is the greatest fighter, while I am the wisest one. In your societies, he would be akin to...a general. These other two are Ve'dron's first and second subordinates, Me'racht and Li'surl."
The high priestess stopped smiling. She looked almost bored now. If she had a watch she would have been checking it.
"You will report to second subordinate Li'surl," the high priestess said, and turned her back on Rebecca, and walked away with Ve'dron. Me'racht lingered a moment, looking Rebecca up and down and frowning, before he turned and followed them.
Li'surl poked Rebecca in the chest, and growled at her.
"You report!" Li'surl shouted in her face, and then he turned his back on her and walked away too. The assembled Kree'shon leered contemptuously at Rebecca, growling and muttering in their guttural language, and laughing.
"What the hell are they doing?" Buffy whispered to Angel.
"I don't know," Angel whispered back. "I've never been with them in this kind of situation."
"Hey! Where the fuck do you guys get off--" Faith started to say. Rebecca put her hand on her shoulder. Faith stopped talking.
The high priestess turned again.
"Does someone have something to say?" the high priestess said.
"I do," Rebecca said, and smiled her most pleasant smile, and pulled the katana from Faith's belt, and strolled over toward the high priestess, holding the sword down by her side. "I have a report to make to these two wankers over here." Instantly, Me'racht and Li'surl stepped in front of her, their scimitars drawn. They towered over her.
Buffy stepped forward. Faith grabbed her arm, and shook her head.
"Becca's got this," Faith whispered.
"And what did you want to report?" the high priestess said.
Rebecca smiled up at Me'racht, and stuck the katana straight down through his foot. He bent forward screaming, dropped his guard, and Rebecca cut his head off like she was popping the top off a coke bottle. Li'surl growled, raised his scimitar, and aimed an overhead swing at Rebecca which would have cut her in half if it landed, but she deflected the blow and spun away, throwing Li'surl off-balance. He had put so much strength into his swing that his momentum sent him stumbling forward when Rebecca redirected his attack, and Rebecca spun around behind him and cut his head off too. The entire battle lasted three seconds.
Riley smiled. But he didn't speak. The Kree'shon hated it when men spoke out of turn, and he still needed them.
"I hate bureaucracy," Rebecca said. "And if you think I'm reporting to anyone, I'll kill General Arsehole over there next. I'm rather expert with a sword. I'm much, much better than any of you lot, you're all far too slow. But you certainly look strong, which means we could use you. So which shall it be? We can discuss our plans, which I'll be making by the way, but I'll very generously include you and General Arsehole in on the conversation. Or I can give your men some more swordfighting lessons. It's all the same to me. I quite enjoy killing demons. It relaxes me."
Behind her, Rebecca heard Faith growling softly. She could hear Buffy growling too, she realized. She appreciated that.
Rebecca smiled pleasantly again.
"Or I could let Faith and Buffy off the chain, and then you'll really see what killing is," Rebecca said.
Ve'dron and the high priestess approached Rebecca. Ve'dron and the priestess both carried swords, but the swords were still in the scabbards slung across their backs.
"We had to be sure of you," the high priestess said. "Please forgive my insult."
"And are you sure of me now?" Rebecca said.
Ve'dron smiled like a shark and clapped Rebecca on the shoulder with a hand the size of a catcher's mitt. It was like being struck by a falling side of beef.
"Yes," the high priestess said. "A leader must be a killer. I needed to see how you kill, to know how you would lead. You killed those two very efficiently. It is an admirable trait."
"And I'd fancy killing forty-two thousand more," Rebecca said. "So let's get to work."
She didn't look like an angel. She looked like a woman. A pretty one, but she didn't have wings, there wasn't an aura of light around her, or a halo around her head. She wore jeans and boots and a tee shirt. She was average height, petite, with long, black hair, pale skin and gray eyes with long lashes, and a pretty, lopsided smile. She looked like someone who found life amusing.
But Willow thought she felt like an angel. She made the whole room seem...lighter, somehow.
Willow looked back at the steel door. It was still closed. Still barred from the inside.
"Who...who...are you?" Willow said. She seemed to be having a hard time speaking.
"I'm Rachel," the angel said. "You wanted an angel, didn't you? You wanted to speak to the Goddess."
"I'm...we're...trying to save the world."
"Why?"
"What?"
Rachel sat down on the step beside her. She went into Willow's book bag, dug out another Sprite, popped the top off the can and took a sip.
"Why are you trying to save the world?" Rachel said.
"Because...wait, what? What do you mean, why? Because...because...it's right. I mean... saving people...it's...what we're supposed to do."
Rachel took another sip of the Sprite. She looked up at the cross hanging on the wall.
"People die," Rachel said. "Everybody dies. Now, or later. So why not now?"
"What? Because...because..."
Willow thought about it...but she realized she didn't have an answer.
"I see we're all friends now," War said, suddenly galloping into the midst of them in a flash of light carrying an American flag in his hand, as Rebecca, Faith, Buffy, Angel and Riley toured the ramparts with the high priestess and Ve'dron, pointing out the defenses and telling them the plan they had devised, which Rebecca had to take sole credit for, because the Kree'shon didn't think men could come up with plans. Rebecca walked in front with the priestess and Ve'dron, Buffy and Faith walked right behind them, and Angel and Riley trailed at a respectful distance. It had been decided--Rebecca had decided, but Riley had nodded silently and agreed--that the Kree'shon could best be utilized down in the valley, guarding the wall with the majority of the soldiers. They were hand-to-hand fighters, slow but brutally powerful. According to Angel the weakest Kree'shon was physically stronger than any Slayer.
"What is this?" the high priestess said, as she and Ve'dron gazed curiously at War and his horse, but without any trace of trepidation. "Some spirit creature dreamt up by the humans?"
"Somethin' like that," War said, and looked down at the Kree'shon from atop his steed with something like amusement in his glimmering white eyes.
"Can you fight, ghost-man?" Ve'dron said.
"Boy howdy," War said. "You folks just about set? Enemy's comin'. Pretty soon it's gonna be rainin' vampires to beat the Dutch."
"The Dutch?" Buffy said. "We have to fight the Dutch now too?"
"He means there's gonna be a lot of vampires," Angel said. "It's an expression. I used to say it all the time in the nineteenth century."
"The Kree'shon will guard the wall," Rebecca said. "With them filling in the holes we just might be able to hold the line here."
"We're ready," Riley said.
"Nope," War said.
War leapt his horse up through the air in one bound to the roof of the fort, twenty feet above them.
He set the American flag down there. It fluttered in the darkness, broad stripes and bright stars, adrift on a sea of black.
"Now we're ready," War said.
"For almost two years now, you've been saving lives, fighting demons," Rachel said. "Saving the world. Saving people you've never met, and will never meet. But everyone dies eventually. No one with a soul lives in this world forever, Willow. All souls return to the Goddess in time. So I'll ask you again. Why are you saving lives? Why not let them die?"
"Are you saying...the Goddess wants the world to end?" Willow said.
"Nothing can be done out of Her hand," Rachel said. "Do you know what that means?"
"Um...not really, no."
"Some people think it means that She controls you, all of you. That human beings are puppets. But that isn't true. The Goddess gave you free will, so that you could choose your own path...so you could write the story with Her. But She knows what's to come. You choose your path, but the Goddess knows which path you will choose."
"That's...really confusing."
"This chaos, the Four Horsemen being released, the sun disappearing, it could not have happened out of Her hand, because nothing can happen out of Her hand," Rachel said. "The Goddess knew it would happen. She didn't cause it, but nor did She attempt to stop it, because this is your world, and human beings must decide things. Saving a life is a big decision, Willow. But doing it because it's 'right'...doing it because you believe that is what the Goddess wants you to do, as if there's some rulebook somewhere and all you need to do is live your life by those rules...that is abdicating your free will. So I'll ask you again. Why do you want to save the world? I'm not asking you whether it's right or wrong. I'm asking you why you want to do it."
Willow thought about it.
"Because...I don't want the people I love to die."
"Then why didn't you simply accept the First's offer? You, and all the people you love, could have lived in peace and comfort."
Willow shook her head.
"I don't want Annabelle growing up in that world," Willow said. "The First would control us. Break our spirit...make us...like animals eventually. That's not what we are...what we were meant to be. I know we can be better than that. I want us to be better than that."
Rachel smiled.
"Okay," Rachel said.
They had given Tara a chair, and a radio. She sat just within the entrance to the fort, behind the massive granite doors, in a huge, dark, drafty stone hall, and waited. They would be telling her over the radio when they needed her to cast the shield. They'd want her to cast it when the enemy troops breached the breastwork wall. At that point the plan was for the troops to retreat inside the fort, bar the doors, and for Tara to cast a shield around it. They'd hold out there as long as they could, fighting every inch of the way as the enemy tried to reach Willow.
Strange thoughts came into your head when you were sitting alone in a Civil War fort, listening for an order to cast an energy shield that you had only learned how to cast the day before, knowing that not only did the lives of all your friends depend upon you, but so did the fate of the entire human race. Tara found herself thinking about the hardware store she worked at in Milwaukee.
She had brought snacks with her. At first she had thought it was pretty ridiculous, bringing snacks to a battle, but Willow had packed snacks, so Tara decided she might as well have snacks too. She dug a Sprite and some crackers out of her handbag.
The hardware store was called Munson's. Tara didn't know anything about hardware but the owner, Mr. Munson, had hired her anyway because, he had said, she would brighten up the place. And besides, no one else would take the job because the pay was crap. Mr. Munson smoked smelly cigars all the time and there was a television set with a satellite hookup that showed baseball games all the time and the radio was tuned to the oldies station all the time and Mr. Munson would never let Tara change the channels. And he had a fat, yappy old cockerspaniel named Dapper who hung around the store barking and licking his balls all the time, and the dog had never taken a liking to Tara no matter how many doggie treats she gave him. Tara worked there for a year, watching endless, soul-deadening baseball games and listening to Frank Sinatra and the Everly Brothers and the Beach Boys and giving customers very, very wrong answers to questions about home repair and trying to make friends with the dog, even though the pay was crap and even though she didn't know anything about hardware, because Mr. Munson let her read books and do her homework while she worked the register. The day she finally quit a year later and packed her things and went to Sunnydale, Tara still didn't know anything about hardware, she and Dapper still hadn't established diplomatic relations, and she hated the Beach Boys with the fire of a thousand suns. But she understood the infield fly rule. Sitting in the gloomy old fort now sipping a Sprite and eating Ritz Crackers, and wondering if she was about to be dead soon, Tara thought the fort was still a better deal than Munson's.
"I never liked you either, Dapper," Tara said.
She giggled. She wondered if those would be the last words she ever said. She thought she should probably say something else, just so she could have some better last words.
"Um...it's a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done," Tara said. "It's a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known. Yeah, that's better."
"They just hit the minefield," she heard Graham saying, over the radio. "Woo-hah, Cap! That right there is a thing of beauty! Better than the Fourth of July."
"Gimme an estimate on enemy casualties," Tara heard Riley say.
"Fifteen-hundred maybe," Graham said. "But there's a lot more where that came from. Those boys are pissed off now...runnin' right at us. In weapons range in thirty seconds."
"Tell your guys to use up every last grenade, Graham," Riley said. "Before they reach the wall we need to get our money's worth."
Tara didn't really know anything about fighting or tactics, she didn't know how to come up with plans. The plan sounded good to her, but she didn't know why exactly it was good. She just took Faith and Rebecca's word for it that it was a good plan. So she followed the plan...she sat in the chair, and waited until they needed her.
Until the order came in, all she could do was wait...alone.
"In range," Tara heard Sam saying, over the radio.
"Open fire," she heard Rebecca say.
And then the air was filled with thunder...
Willow heard explosions outside. The battle had started. She tried not to think about it.
"Okay, can we just back up for a sec?" Willow said. "I just wanna confirm here...you're really an angel? I know you're not the First because you're drinking that Sprite and I was actually able to touch your shoulder but...you're an angel?"
"Yes," Rachel said.
"And...the Goddess really exists?"
"Yes."
"She created the universe...created all of us."
"Yes."
"Is She...I mean, is She God, or the Goddess?"
"The Goddess."
"Well, that's cool at least. Score one for Wicca. Does this mean Wicca's right, and all the other religions are wrong?"
"No."
"Um...so which religion is right? Wait, let me guess. You're gonna say all of them are right, aren't you? Like, they all have a piece of the truth, and--"
"No. None of them are right."
"None of them?"
"They all proceed from the same wrong premise. They all assume the Goddess wants to be worshipped. But the Goddess doesn't desire worship. Does a mother ask Her children to worship her? Do you ask Annabelle to get down on her knees and pray to you?"
"No," Willow said. "You're saying...the Goddess sees us as...like Her children?"
"Of course," Rachel said. "She created you. Though She is still trying to understand you. She has been trying to understand, for a very long time, why you all act the way you do. Why you hurt each other. It puzzles Her. And it saddens Her."
"Can I ask a weird question? I've never been really like, religious. I mean...yeah, I was born Jewish, and the rabbi at the synagogue, he was always pretty sure Judaism was the one true religion and everything, but everyone thinks their religion is the right one. I was never really religious until I got into magic...until I discovered Wicca, and the Goddess. But...when I first started helping Buffy, when I found out about vampires, I thought about becoming a Christian for awhile, because crosses work on vampires, and holy water blessed by priests works on vampires, and no other religious symbols do. The Star of David doesn't do anything to vampires. Neither does the Islamic Crescent. Pentagrams don't either. So why crosses? Why holy water? I thought for awhile that maybe the Christians were right, maybe Christ had to be God, because their symbols worked against vampires when other religious symbols don't, but...I read the Bible and...um...I really had some big problems with it. But even though I never became a Christian a little part of me has always been afraid that...y'know...maybe Christianity is right? Which means, if I don't convert, I'm going to Hell."
"There is no such thing as Hell," Rachel said. "This idea that the Goddess would want to torture you says more about the people who believe it than it does about the Goddess. Free will is not an easy thing, Willow. Slavery is easier. Some people would rather not make decisions for themselves...they would rather be slaves. If they can't have a master, they'll create one. Why would the Goddess give human beings free will and then punish them for acting? The Goddess has a sense of humor, but the universe is no practical joke. But that isn't to say there is no morality. There is morality...there is good, and there is evil. But you asked why crosses work against vampires?"
Rachel looked up at the cross hanging behind the altar.
"That's a sad story," Rachel said.
Thunderous explosions reverberated through the black sky as forty-thousand vampires and demons streamed into the valley like a swarm of ants, and rocket-propelled grenades with their fuel-air explosive warheads slammed into their midst, incinerating the very air around them. Hundreds of vampires and demons fell with every burst, but the enemy just kept coming... swarming up the hill straight toward the wall...
"There's too many," Faith whispered, as she stood behind the wall clutching a rifle in one hand and a katana in the other, and watched the explosions...it was a surreal sight. It looked like flashbulbs going off in the dark. As Faith watched the black valley below her light up white, it looked like she was seeing the world in freeze-frame. One second, everything was dark save for the slight illumination provided by the red moon overhead; the next second, everything was frozen white. Then everything would become dark again. But every time Faith got a glimpse of that seemingly infinite horde of vampires and demons lit up against a roiling white sky, they were a little closer...
"There's too many," Faith whispered.
She looked down along the wall. By the light of the explosions she could just make out Buffy, a hundred yards away to her left. They had wanted to be together, but Angel had said that keeping himself, Faith and Buffy at separate points on the wall made the most sense, as they were their three best fighters. The Kree'shon might be stronger, but they were used to fighting in groups. They weren't nearly as effective solo, and after the demonstration Rebecca had put on, Faith and Rebecca had agreed. Faith had tried to keep her senses locked on Buffy and Rebecca, but she had lost them; there were too many scents now, too much havoc. So, once or twice every minute, Faith looked back along the wall to make sure they were still there. Buffy was a hundred yards to her left, and Rebecca was at a point in between.
"I see you looking at me, baby," Buffy said, her voice crackling over Faith's radio now. But it was a voice from the past, Faith thought; that voice came from a few weeks ago, on her birthday, in the motel room...it came from the cemetery, the night Faith told Buffy the story about the rock band with the vampire guitarist, and they laughed together...it came from the ice cream shop by the beach, when Buffy ordered the dish of vanilla ice cream and kissed her...
It didn't come from this day. It sounded like the wind through the trees in a cemetery at night, and it smelled like sea breezes and it tasted like vanilla ice cream, and it didn't belong here, on this killing ground.
"I'm always looking at you," Faith said. "How you doin' over there?"
"This kevlar's itchy. These Klingons smell like ass. And tonight was supposed to be Friends night. Monica and Chandler are totally dating now and I don't get to find out what happens because the stupid world is ending."
"You like that show? I can't stand those people."
"You don't like Friends? How can you not like Friends? What is wrong with you that you don't like Friends? Oh my God we're so breaking up."
"They're all a bunch of yuppies. They're all supposed to be like in their twenties but they act like they're forty. They had this episode where they were all goin' to a Hootie and the Blowfish concert and they were acting like it was cool. Hootie and the Damned Blowfish."
"I like Hootie and the Blowfish!"
Faith giggled. "You're shitting me. Really? But they suck."
"That does it, we're breaking up. What other horrible secrets have you been keeping from me? I bet you like going to monster truck rallies. I bet you're secretly a goth girl."
"Yup, that's me. A goth girl who goes to monster truck rallies."
"Knew it," Buffy said. "I love you."
"I love you too," Faith said. "Are we still breaking up because I don't like Friends and I think Hootie and the Blowfish blow?"
"Absolutely. I'm gonna start dating Angelina Jolie. But you can be my mistress maybe."
"You can be my mistress you mean."
"What's the difference?"
"It has to do with outfits. I'll show you tonight."
"When the Goddess created the universe, first She created Her angels," Rachel said, as she got up, and walked behind the altar, and looked down at the withered, yellowing old Bible that was opened there. She turned a few pages, and scanned a few passages, and then lost interest. "We are the pure work of Her hand, and so She understands us. There is a story, in this book...about a rebellious angel who led other angels in a war upon God, and how they were eventually defeated, and banished to Hell." She smiled. "That is a thoroughly ridiculous story, but there is some small truth to it."
"Wait...are you saying there's a Devil?" Willow said.
"No, and there isn't a Hell either. But the very first thing the Goddess created...the very first angel...rebelled. You know him. You've seen him. He has taken the forms of people you love...he had you put in that closet at the supermarket."
"The First," Willow whispered. "You're talking about the First."
"His name is Raziel."
"Wait...the First has a name? And it's a He?"
"Yes. We angels are all aspects of the Goddess. She is our Mother, and we each represent a part of Her whole. Raziel was Her firstborn, the most powerful of all the angels, and the most beautiful. And though each of us angels is imbued with an aspect of the Goddess, Raziel shared in all our gifts. Above all he was born with Mother's restlessness, Her curiosity, and Her love of creating. But he also had Her pride, which over the long march of time has twisted itself inside him, and become arrogance. He knew he was the greatest of us and in time he sought to bend things to his will. He not only wanted to create things, he wanted to possess them."
"Okay...sounds kinda like the Devil to me."
"Actually, your myth of the Devil, at least the myth as your human societies currently understand it, was largely created by a seventeenth-century poet named John Milton."
"Paradise Lost?"
"But...I don't understand...why would the Goddess create an evil angel?"
"We angels are all aspects of the Goddess, Willow, and the Goddess embodies everything: every idea, every possible concept, exists within Her. She is joy, but She is also sadness. She is light, but She is also darkness. Raziel is fallen now, but he didn't start out that way. He was the best of us. But he was so glorious, so powerful, so subtle, so beautiful, and so gifted with Mother's curiosity and Her desire to create, that in time he dared think he could set himself up as a God, and create a universe for himself. But that was later. In the early days, when Creation was new, Raziel was content. He explored the universe, like a bright, restless child scouting a playground, delighting in each new discovery he made. Planets and moons and stars, black holes and cosmic strings and whole galaxies being born, time, gravity, other dimensions. But then, one day, Raziel discovered something strange: life."
"You mean...us? Humans?"
"No. Contrary to the teachings of your religions, the Goddess didn't create life all in a moment, fully formed. Rather, She caused a spark, which created a flame, and the flame grew. She created the mechanism by which life feeds upon itself, and evolves, and recreates itself in new forms. Raziel discovered a single-celled organism, on a world a great distance from this one. That organism was a primitive thing, but it was alive; Raziel saw that it was alive. And he was astounded. He called the rest of us angels all together and told us of this wondrous new thing, and then he demanded an explanation from Mother. To Raziel the universe was a marvelous place when it was dead and dumb; but now that it was suddenly coming to life, Raziel became jealous, and afraid. He asked the Goddess what was the meaning of this living thing he had found, and She told us. One day, She told us, She had looked out upon Her creation, and thought...Is this all? Can't there be something more? Something outside of me? You need to understand, Willow, that the Goddess knows everything that has ever been or will ever be. She is everything. But She wanted something created outside of Herself. She wanted to be surprised. So She created a mechanism by which life would come into being, but random chance would affect its creation. She seeded the universe with the raw materials of life, and then allowed that life to come into being in whatever way chance would shape it. Albert Einstein once said of God, that he was convinced God doesn't throw dice. Einstein was exactly wrong. I've said the Goddess knows everything that will ever be. If she chooses to know. Sometimes She allows Herself to be surprised. Like a book. The Goddess doesn't like flipping to the end before the story is over. So it is with life. She has allowed it to evolve throughout the universe in whatever way it would, and She has watched, but not interfered, in that evolution, and though She could know the end result if She wanted to, She chooses not to know. So life goes on surprising Her. But though the rest of us angels thought this new life was a beautiful, amazing thing, Raziel was jealous. He thought it might usurp his place in Mother's heart someday."
"And that's why the First hates us? Because he's jealous?"
"Hate is something Raziel discovered. He was always curious, always looking for new things. But there are boundaries, even for us angels, and Raziel was never satisfied within the boundaries set for him. He knew that our Mother had not given all of Herself to us, that there were aspects of Her that were not for us to know. But Raziel didn't care. He went on seeking out new things anyway, even when Mother warned him to stop. It was Raziel who first discovered the new life Mother was creating. And then, one day, Raziel discovered evil."
"Discovered it?"
"Evil was within the Goddess, of course, like everything is. But it was a concept the Goddess did not wish to allow us to understand yet. The universe wasn't ready for it. But Raziel stole it from Her, and cherished it. Mother had kept evil so secret that it must be a great prize, Raziel thought. A great new discovery. In his arrogance, Raziel thought he could control evil, bend it to his will, use it. But it consumed him. Mother cast Raziel out, after that, and Raziel became enraged. He took evil with him, and as he explored the strange concept he saw that he had already discovered somewhat of evil on his own, without even knowing it. In his jealousy and his covetousness and his bitterness, in his pride and his ambition and his defiance, he had already started down the path of evil. He kept to the path after that, as evil consumed him so thoroughly that now it cannot be said where Raziel stops and evil begins. He is full of hate now, and he is alone. And he has a special hatred for the human race; a special hatred for human beings above all things."
"Why?"
"When life awoke across the universe, it wasn't self-aware. Life-forms were primitive animals, acting on instinct. But Mother was patient. She had hoped for more than that. She had desired beings like Her angels, except created outside of Her. So she waited, and in time, intelligence arose here and there. Creatures who could reason. Who could understand, perhaps, a tiny portion of the mind of the Goddess. They were very different from Her angels...they were difficult for the Goddess to understand. Indeed, we all puzzled over these creatures. But then the Goddess had another thought. She decided she would choose one race of intelligent creatures, from somewhere in all the infinite vastness of the universe, and imbue them with a tiny spark...a piece of Herself, to guide them. She would give them souls...and see where the souls led them."
"Us," Willow said. "You're talking about us."
"Yes. And as the race of creatures who would eventually come to call themselves human left the trees and began the slow, arduous process of taming their world, as the new spark the Goddess had given them glittered like precious jewels inside them and lit the way, Raziel's jealousy and hatred only grew. He tried to subvert human beings to his will. The rest of us angels stopped him. Many of the stories in your holy books are poor recountings of those battles. But if Raziel could not have the human race, he decided he would tear them down, corrupt them, whenever he could, and so he has, all the way down through history. Some human beings followed him willingly. He has corrupted a great many of you."
"Yeah," Willow said...and remembered the closet. "Saw that up-close and personal. Okay, so...what you're saying is that humans were created by evolution, and the Goddess didn't have a hand in it at all other than to get the ball rolling. And then once She saw us She thought we were all sorta cute, so She gave us souls, which are parts of Her. And the First was like, nope. That won't do at all. Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope."
Rachel smiled. "You always did have an interesting sense of humor. The Goddess created life, and let it evolve independently of Her, because She wanted new things. She wanted to be surprised."
"So...She made us, what? Uppity? A buncha smart-aleck kids who all need a time-out?"
"She made you all different from Herself. Think of Creation as a story. You like to read a good story, don't you?"
"Yeah. I love stories."
"Creation is the story, and the Goddess is the author. But who tells Her a story? Doesn't the Goddess ever get to read a story?"
"Um..."
"The Goddess wanted to be surprised, Willow. She wanted to be told a story. And so She created life. There's a riddle children tell each other. Is God strong enough to create a stone so heavy that even God can't lift it?"
"Actually I spent a lot of time being really puzzled about that when I was like eight years old. Xander and I used to argue about it all the time."
"Well the answer is yes, so you can stop being puzzled. The Goddess can create a stone so heavy that even She can't lift it. And She can create life without knowing its end result, so it might surprise Her. So it might tell Her a story. But She is still its creator...still its Mother. And so it's in you, Her children, to be curious, to want to discover new things, like She does, and to want to create things. Humanity has discovered wondrous things, and you've created beautiful things. But you've discovered terrible things too. You've created ghastly things. Just like Raziel, you discovered evil. And then you created ways to express it."
"Yeah," Willow said, and cast her eyes down to the floor. "Smart-aleck kids."
Rachel walked back to Willow, and stood above her in the candlelight.
Willow smiled.
"You almost have a halo now," Willow said.
"Do I look like an angel now?" Rachel said.
Willow looked into Rachel's eyes. They were like two perfect wells of silver.
"Yeah," Willow said. "You're like totally an angel. You feel like an angel too."
"Humanity has done such monstrous things...things that broke Her heart, Willow," Rachel said. "She gave you all a part of Herself, that would always be with you: She gave you souls. And She thought your souls would light the way for you. Yet, the things human beings have done...they torment Her. They are far worse than the things Raziel has done. And the Goddess is confounded. She doesn't understand."
"And so...one day She said screw it and decided to take the sun away and end the world," Willow said.
"No," Rachel said. "One day, the Goddess decided to become a human being."
"We're throwing every damn thing we have at 'em but they're still gonna get here in a few minutes!" Forrest's voice boomed through the radio, as Faith aimed her rifle from behind the breastwork wall and started firing. The Kree'shon demons beside her stood with their scimitars ready, growling. Faith knew they wanted to leap over the wall and bring the fight to the enemy. But that wasn't the plan, and to Faith's surprise, the Kree'shon were sticking to the plan.
Faith was a Slayer; she had perfect aim. Every shot found its mark. It was so easy it was actually boring. So she watched the field as she shot off round after round into the mass of vampires and demons making steady progress up the hill toward the wall like an approaching tidal wave, and she tried to estimate how long the enemy would take to reach them, and how many of them they'd be facing. The air was smoky, and it smelled like firecrackers. The ground actually shook as the enemy, tens of thousands strong, marched relentlessly up the valley toward the wall. The sky was a thundering, flashing maelstrom of white fire, and Faith could hear the crack of rifle fire all around too, as the soldiers on the ramparts and behind the breastwork wall all started taking headshots. The grenades were doing their job, but the enemy was moving too quickly...they'd get to the wall too soon, and with too much of their force left alive...they'd only managed to knock out a quarter of the enemy force yet by Faith's estimate, and their plan depended on taking out three-quarters of them before they reached the wall...
"It's the First," Rebecca's voice crackled over her radio. "I've had a lot of experience with demons and they're never this single-minded. As a rule they care about their own skin before anything else, our green friends excepted. The First is whipping these demons on."
"Great," Faith said. "We've got an army of vamps and demons feeling all inspired now. Anybody got any ideas for how we can counter that?"
"Reckon I do," War said, galloping right past her and leaping his horse over the breastwork like a streak of lightning.
"Okay," Faith said. "That works."
"Keep firin' them grenades!" War called out, as he thundered down the valley to meet the enemy, his sword raised high and shining like a star...
"She...became human?" Willow said, looking up at Rachel, and at the cross hanging in the shadows behind her. "You mean...you mean Jesus?"
Rachel shook her head, and sat down next to Willow again.
"The Goddess didn't understand human beings, so She became one," Rachel said. "She became a woman, named Mary."
Willow looked at her. "Mary? Mary...Christ's mother?"
"No. The Bible called Her Mary Magdalene, though the name 'Magdalene' refers to the place of Her birth. She was born in Magdala Nunayya, a fishing village on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. She was born a poor peasant, and because the Goddess wanted to live as a human being, She had no knowledge of who She really was. The Goddess can create a stone so heavy even She can't lift it. And She can keep a secret even from Herself."
"Mary Magdalene," Willow whispered. "Mary Magdalene was...was...God?"
"Yes," Rachel said.
War rode straight into the midst of that demon horde, as the grenades thundered all around him, and the ground quaked, and the sky flashed, and his shining silver sword cut the vampires and the demons down as if they were so much chaff, lightning flashing forth from the blade every time it stuck. The vampires and the demons clawed at him, tried to tackle him, tried to bring him down, but his sword swept them away like leaves before a hurricane, as he actually drove that entire monstrous horde back, step by step, down the hill, and bought the soldiers precious moments to keep up their assault.
War had killed two-thousand before he lost count...
And then he saw them.
He saw Death, Pestilence and Famine entering the field, barreling toward the fort, racing through the valley quick as an icy wind...
War spurred his horse, and rode straight for them.
"The Goddess wanted to live a human life, to experience happiness and sorrow, pleasure and pain, fear and faith, love and hate," Rachel said. "She wanted to be born and to die, and so She was, and so She did, as Mary. But it was a hard life, and it hurt Her terribly...and eventually, She despaired. And She became lost. Remember, She didn't know who She was. She wouldn't allow Herself to know. In that time, in that place, when women were treated as cattle, the Goddess despaired. She wanted love, and couldn't find it. Her parents, the people She had been born to, didn't particularly care for Her. She had few friends, for She was always questioning everything around Her, asking why the world had to be this way, and it wasn't a woman's place in those days to question. She led a lonely life. Eventually, She had to become a prostitute, to earn enough money to feed Herself. She had to let men use Her body....let them buy Her."
Tears came into Willow's eyes. "That's...that's...so sad," Willow whispered.
"She wanted to understand," Rachel said. "Even sadness. Even despair. She wanted to understand. But it wore Her down. And then, one night, after allowing a man to use Her, She stood upon a cliff overlooking the sea, and was about to cast Herself over, and be done with Her life...when She met someone. She met someone who had also spent his life questioning things... someone who also had few friends, and was ridiculed, cast out. His name was Jesus Christ."
War reined in his horse, and blocked their path, and waited for them.
He sat tall in the saddle, as Death, Pestilence, and Famine trotted toward him. The vampires and the demons were resuming their march toward the fort now, slogging ankle-deep through a muck of demon blood and guts and entrails, scrambling over piles of burned carcasses as they made their way back up the hill, even as the valley tore itself to pieces all around them, the constant barrage of grenades and rifle fire killing scores more with every step they took. But they went on, relentlessly, the voice of the First a constant whisper in their minds, compelling them ever forward...
War knew he couldn't help slow them down now...the battle he was about to face would take everything he had.
"Top o' the mornin', gents," War said.
"Well, brother," Famine said, glancing at the havoc all around them, as the sky flashed and the air was filled with the shrieking whine of grenades streaking ceaselessly overhead, and the screams of demons and vampires as they were torn to pieces, and blasted to dust. "You certainly have been busy."
"Idle hands are the Devil's workshop, my mother-in-law always used to say," War said.
"Marvelous," Pestilence said. "He's being funny again. We really do love your charming anecdotes, you know. Please, tell us more. The world's ending, we obviously have nothing better to do than listen to you prattle on."
"You know this is disobeying the rules," Famine said. "Disobeying the Word. We are here to serve a function. We know you love to fight. But you can't fight this, brother."
War looked around. A volley of grenades landed not fifty yards away from him and incinerated at least two-hundred Fyarl demons who had been loping up the hill on all fours, scrambling up a slippery slope of mangled corpses. As the air caught fire around them and all the oxygen was literally burned away in a second, the demons burst into flames, shrieking. The conflagration had suddenly blossomed into life like a flower, searing the black sky in tones of orange and yellow and white for hundreds of yards around like a paintbrush moving across a canvas. The four Riders were suddenly caught up in that cloud of billowing fire as it expanded around them, but they paid it no heed. That inferno didn't even singe their robes. It might as well have been a summer breeze.
"Sure looks like a fight to me," War said.
"We are the Creator's instruments, War," Famine said. "Now that we have been loosed, we must fulfill our function. Don't you see?"
"Repent, you damned fool," Pestilence said. "It isn't too late...yet."
Death hadn't yet spoken. He sat astride his terrible black horse, and held his scythe in his hand...and waited.
"You in this?" War said. "You gonna try to take that fort? Or are you just gonna circle around like a damned vulture, pickin' at the carcasses."
"Everything dies, brother," Death said. "The Creator has decreed it. I will not allow you to change that. Indeed, even if I would allow it, you could not change it. We are what we are."
War nodded.
"Might as well get this show on the road, then," War said, and galloped straight at Famine, and cut him in half with his sword before he had time to move, a great bolt of lightning flashing forth from the blade and lancing into the sky.
As Famine's terrible, ghastly shriek winged its way across the battlefield, everything stopped for a moment. The demons halted their advance, the defenders stopped firing their weapons. Everything stopped.
Famine's scream reverberated to the four corners of the Earth and all the way up to the very heavens...as if the world itself was finally letting go of some terrible pain. Its echoes lingered awhile.
"Excuse me?" the First said, appearing as Angelus a hundred yards away in front of a column of vampires. He pointed back toward the fort. "Hello? Could we like, I don't know, maybe kill those guys please?"
The vampires and demons began marching again. Angelus sighed.
"One stupid frigging amoeba started all this," Angelus muttered. "Everything was just fine until that frigging amoeba came along."
"They were happy for awhile," Rachel said. "Jesus was a simple man, with simple tastes; he was a carpenter. But, like Mary, he was restless too...he was curious. He didn't understand why the world was as it was, and he wished it could be changed. He was born a Jew, like Mary was, but unlike Her he was devout in the practice of that faith. But still he was restless...he and Mary spent long hours arguing the place of the Jews within the Roman Empire, the covenant with Abraham, the commandments brought by Moses, the laws of the Pharisees, the nature of man, the nature of God...they liked arguing. They fell in love, and eventually married, and they lived happily together in Galilee, in a little house he built for them. Mary told him the things She had done, how She had prostituted herself, and he didn't care. Because he loved Her. So they lived by the shores of Galilee, and they had their arguments, and looked out at the moon on the water at night, and made love, and for the first time in their lives, they were both happy."
"Xander and I were the same way," Willow said. "We argued all the time, but, y'know... good arguing. Fun arguing. Like the argument we always had about if God can create a rock so heavy even She can't lift it, and I was completely right by the way."
"So was Mary. In Her arguments with Jesus, She had proposed nothing less than a new world: a new way for the human race to govern its affairs. It was wildly ambitious, and wholly unworkable at that time. But it was right, and Jesus sensed it. Mary swayed him, and eventually, he began to speak of this new world to others. But he didn't preach Mary's message quite as She would have intended. He was a man, and a product of his time. But he did his best to communicate Mary's intent, with some flourishes of his own, and soon, others followed him."
"Yeah," Willow said. "I think I know how the story goes from here. Not a happy ending."
"No," Rachel said. "Not a happy ending. The Romans crucified Jesus eventually, at the insistence of the Jewish authorities. Crucifixion was a typical Roman punishment for traitors, though it was considered harsh, even by the Romans. In fact, Pontius Pilate didn't want to crucify Jesus. But the Jews insisted. Mary begged them to spare him, She even offered Herself up instead. She confessed that She was the one who had put all these ideas into Jesus' head, and that if anyone should be crucified, it was Her. But the Jews and the Romans all laughed at Her, and called Her deranged. She was a woman, after all. They thought she couldn't possibly have been the one to invent a new religious philosophy which would, within a few centuries, shake the greatest empire in the world down to its very foundations. But you wanted to know why crosses work on vampires. Here is the reason why. After Jesus was crucified, they left him hanging on the cross. Mary stayed by his cross throughout the night. She had decided to kill Herself, but She was going to wait until the man She loved was buried. She--"
"Wait. She...killed Herself?"
"Yes. On the same cliff, overlooking the sea, where She met Jesus. But first She maintained a vigil by his body. The authorities had decreed his body would hang there awhile, wearing his crown of thorns, as part of his punishment...mocked even after death. They posted a guard there, and the guard wouldn't allow Jesus to be taken down until the next morning. So Mary knelt by the cross all through the night. The guard took pity upon Her, and offered Her food and water, and a blanket to keep warm. But Mary wouldn't accept anything from him, and preferred to remain hungry and cold throughout the night, and She cursed the guard instead. After the guard fell asleep, another man came...his name isn't recorded in any story, but it was Eliezer, and he was one of the Pharisees who had condemned Jesus to death, and he was also a vampire. He attacked the guard, while Mary watched, without concern, and did nothing to interfere. He tore the guard's throat out, and left him pale and bloodless upon the ground."
"Mary just...stood there? She didn't do anything?"
"She knelt there. When Eliezer had finished with the guard, Mary asked him what he was. She didn't care. She was planning on killing Herself. She was merely curious. 'I'm a vampire, whore,' he told Her, smiling down at Her as She knelt in the dirt. 'Someday we are going to herd you humans up like animals, and keep you in pens.' Then he touched his hand to the cross, and laughed. 'The King of the Jews dies in royal splendor,' Eliezer said. 'See his glorious crown!' The moment he said it, Eliezer's hand began to burn. He pulled his hand away from the cross, screaming, as Mary stood up, and, for just a moment, allowed Herself to remember who She really was. 'I curse you, Eliezer, and all vampires,' Mary said. 'For laughing at my love after he's been tortured and killed and stolen from me, the cross will be your bane, and the name of Jesus Christ, used in blessing, will be your bane as well. Burn.' And then Eliezer burned, and turned to dust, and Mary took Jesus down from the cross. A man arrived, Joseph, a secret disciple of Jesus who had a number of profitable tin mines and was wealthy. He allowed Jesus to be buried in his own tomb. Mary didn't speak, as they put Jesus in the cart and took him to the tomb, and She washed his wounds, and took the crown of thorns from his head, and then buried him. Joseph said some prayers over Jesus' body, but Mary didn't pray with him. She just stood there, holding the crown of thorns in her hand. Finally, when it was over, and Jesus was in the tomb, Joseph asked Mary to stay with him and his family. But She just shook Her head, and walked away without a word, and made the long journey back to the cliff. And then Mary, who was the Goddess, the Creator of the Universe, put on the crown of thorns, and hurled Herself into the sea...and died. And ever since that day, crosses, and anything blessed with the name of Jesus Christ, have been a deadly bane to vampires."
Willow's eyes filled with tears.
"But...how could She...how could She die?" Willow whispered.
"She wanted to live a human life, and die at the end of it, so She could understand," Rachel said. "But all She understood was bitterness, and sorrow...and when the Goddess returned to Herself, and gave thought to the life She had led, and the love that had been taken away from Her, She came to a decision about humanity."
"A...decision?"
"The day after Her love was crucified, one-thousand, nine-hundred and sixty-five years ago, in the year thirty-three, on the morning of Saturday, April fourth, the Goddess turned Her back on humanity. Human beings wonder why there is evil in the world. They wonder if there is a God to answer their prayers. There is evil in the world because humanity is evil, the Goddess decided, on the morning of Saturday, April fourth, in the year thirty-three. And She also decided there would be no God, no Goddess, to answer humanity's prayers ever again. She abandoned you, Willow. You killed Her love. So the Goddess abandoned you."
As the horde of demons surged all around them, making steady progress through the hail of grenades and gunfire toward the wall ahead, War barely held Death and Pestilence at bay. Pestilence's whip encircled War like a snake, cutting into him like razor wire. Before War could escape it, Pestilence flung him from his horse.
War fell head-first to the mud, stumbled back up, Pestilence's whip still slicing into him, and faced the two other Horsemen, still on their steeds, as he tried desperately to free his arms so he could raise his sword. Death slashed at his head with his scythe. War ducked it just in time.
"Blasphemer!" Pestilence screamed. "Devil!"
War suddenly lunged forward, creating just enough slack in Pestilence's whip to allow him to raise his arms. Before Pestilence could compensate, War cut the whip in half with his sword, and stepped out of it.
"And I'm a damned Tennessee rebel too," War said, and held his sword ready, as Death and Pestilence trotted their horses around him, looking for an opening.
"You flaunt the WORD!" Death shouted, pointing down at him with his scythe. "You debase your divine purpose!"
"You fellas sure do like hearing yourselves talk, don't you?" War said, and charged at him, his sword raised...
The frail Indian boy with the fez cap covering his mutated, exposed brain sat cross-legged in the dirt, out of sight behind a grove of withered trees at the bottom of the valley, chewing gum and meditating as the night lit up like fireworks overhead.
About every twenty seconds, he blew a big bubble, and popped it.
"That's really annoying," Angelus said, appearing suddenly at the boy's side.
"So's being interrupted when I'm gettin' my kill on," the boy said.
"You sure you can do it? I went to a hell of a lot of trouble to find you just for this. And I hate having my time wasted."
"You told me she's a mind-reader, right? If she's a mind-reader I can do it. Mind-readers have like a special circuit turned on in their brains, it's like a signal I can track."
"So have you tracked her yet?"
"You mean have I been able to pick her out from like a quarter mile away with the combined psychic bullshit of forty-thousand asshole demons polluting the airwaves? Not yet. But I'm close, I'm almost there. Plus you keep interrupting me. Can't you at least be a hot chick? You can be anyone, right? Be Jennifer Love Hewitt. I'll give you ten bucks right now if you turn into Jennifer Love Hewitt."
"Why the hell aren't you afraid of me, Fez Boy?" Angelus said, frowning. "I can kill you a thousand different ways."
Fez Boy pointed at his hat. "Big kick-ass psychic brain," he said. "And I control all of it. Subconscious mind, sleep rhythms, dreams, pain and pleasure centers, emotional responses, the whole deal. I stopped bothering being afraid of stuff a long time ago once I figured out the right mix of brain chemicals. I don't feel pain anymore either, which is nice. Plus I can make myself high without even needing any weed. And what do we call that? Awesome."
"So I could tear your arm off and beat you with it and you'd just sit there blowing bubbles at me, Fez Boy?"
Fez Boy blew a bubble, and popped it.
"Well, I'd ask you nicely to stop," he said. "And my name's Devesh by the way. So do you want me to find this girl's off switch or not, dude? Crampin' my style here. Tonight was supposed to be Friends you know. I wanted to find out what happened with Monica and Chandler and now the frigging world's ending. Silver lining though--no more SAT's, no more worrying about getting into Harvard. Hey, can we have TV and movies and shit in your new world? Like, can you leave some actors alive? Hot chick actors." Devesh pointed at him. "And Robert DeNiro. I'm like totally serious dude. Don't kill Robert DeNiro. Robert DeNiro's awesome. Seriously, in Heat? Did you see him in Heat?"
Angelus sighed. "You know, I met the first living thing in the universe," Angelus said. "I didn't like the looks of it. Had a feeling it would be nothing but trouble. Kill the girl, before she gets a shield up please."
"Not a problem, Jennifer," Devesh said, and blew another bubble.
"I hate people," Angelus muttered, and shook his head, and walked away.
The enemy was less than two minutes away now, swarming up the hill like insects as the grenades lit up the sky with white fire all around them and bodies, and pieces of bodies, exploded and flew up into the sky and rained back down again. The soldiers on the wall went on firing their rifles, and readied their flamethrowers. The Kree'shon took out their scimitars.
"I'm casting the smoke in one minute," Rebecca said into her radio, as she watched the enemy advance, and kept her rifle steady atop the wall, sending round after round of automatic fire straight into their midst. It was like trying to drain the ocean with a pail. She knew she was going to die, and soon; they hadn't killed anywhere near enough of the demons to have any kind of chance to defend the fort. The Kree'shon would do well for them, and Tara's shield would hold for awhile. But once it fell...
Rebecca thought of Gwendolyn. She thought of Faith.
"Remember the smoke only lasts one to two minutes so we must press our advantage while we have it," Rebecca said. "This is our last chance to do some damage before they reach the wall, so let's put those flamethrowers to good use. Ve'dron, once the smoke clears you and your men retreat back to the wall with us, and we'll all make our stand here."
There was a growl over the radio.
"I'll take that as a yes," Rebecca said.
Devesh opened his eyes, and smiled.
He blew a big bubble.
He popped it.
"Lights out, Tara Maclay," he said.
"She...the Goddess...abandoned us?" Willow said. "You mean...She really abandoned us? Gave up on us? Completely?"
"Yes," Rachel said.
"Like, one-thousand, nine-hundred and sixty-five years ago."
"Yes."
"And so...ever since then, when people pray...She's just been...what, ignoring us?"
"Yes."
Willow thought about that.
She stood up. She walked around the room. Her knees hurt and she wanted to stretch her legs. She was tired of being cooped up in there. For a moment, she considered taking the bar off the door and walking out.
She went to her book bag, and pulled out a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. Then she moved to the altar, pushed the Bible out of the way, sat on top of the altar facing the cross, opened the Doritos, and ate one.
She looked up at the cross.
"So what the hell am I doing here then?" Willow finally said.
"She'll listen to you," Rachel said. "I'm not saying She'll save the world for you. But the Goddess will listen to you."
"Dorito?" Willow said, and held out the bag.
Rachel sat down on the altar beside her, took one, and ate it.
"Why?" Willow said. "Why will She listen to me?"
"This is one of the things you were born for," Rachel said, and took another Dorito. "This is what you were meant to do."
"Thought you said the Goddess doesn't interfere in our lives. Sounds like interfering to me. Plus I thought She told us all to fuck off two-thousand years ago."
"You're a special case."
Willow laughed, without mirth. "Yeah. Awesome. Why is there evil? You said the Goddess kept it to Herself, didn't want us to find out about it, but then the First stole it. So did the First like, spread evil around? Or did we find it on our own? And why should I be thinking the Goddess is such hot shit when She's part evil? Kinda preferred it when I thought She was a hundred-percent good. Now I'm all thinking, y'know, maybe She's sort of a bitch."
Rachel laughed. It was like someone had let the sunlight in.
Willow laughed too.
They ate Doritos.
"Evil breaks Mother's heart," Rachel said. "Humanity discovered it, because evil is something that can be discovered, if you look hard enough, no matter how much Mother would have preferred it remained hidden. Raziel was well on the way to finding it before he ever stole it from Mother. But, even though it breaks Her heart, evil still has a place, Willow. There is a reason it exists."
"Wait, wait, let me guess," Willow said. "You're gonna give me some line about, without darkness, there can't be any light, right? Something like that?"
"Think of the world as a story. Every story needs conflict. Every story needs not only a protagonist, not only a hero, but an antagonist too."
Willow giggled. "A villain? You're telling me the Goddess allows evil to exist because without it the world would be boring?"
"Um...cotton candy and puppies? No MTV? Oooh! and James Van Der Beek's my butler. And he wears like this completely sexy tuxedo all the time."
Rachel laughed, and shook her head.
"It would be a world without obstacles," Rachel said. "A world without striving. Without evil, without something to fight against, there could never be honor, or sacrifice. Without evil, there could never be courage. Think about that, Willow. Think about a world where the very idea of courage never existed. Life is about change. The clash of opposites. Overcoming things. Moving. It isn't about staying still. Without the valleys, we couldn't appreciate the peaks. Without the valleys, there could be no peaks: just an unwavering, unending line. Just a bleak march toward death."
Willow thought about it. She thought about it for what seemed a long time, to her.
Then she said:
"Like...like...heartache. When you lose someone you love. It's a horrible feeling, but... you realize you're alive, when you feel it. You feel your soul, when you feel it."
"Yes," Rachel said.
War's sword struck Death's scythe with a resounding BOOM that thundered across the battlefield like a shockwave and sent a bolt of lightning up to the sky. Behind them, Pestilence was circling around on his horse, looking for an opening, but he no longer had his whip. War glanced back toward the fort. The smoke spell was beginning to dissipate; the defenders were retreating back to the wall. They had killed a fair number of the demons under cover of the smoke, but nowhere near enough, and they had taken some casualties too. The vampires and demons couldn't see in the smoke, but they could still lash out blindly. The soldiers and the Kree'shon had managed to kill another three-thousand or so, but they had lost seventy men doing it, and they couldn't afford the exchange: there were still twenty-five thousand demons left to deal with, and hardly more than five-hundred men to hold them off...
And War knew that if either Death of Pestilence made it past him, even the slim hope they had would be lost...
"Enough!" Death said, and swung his scythe like a hurricane wind. "Enough of this pointless fighting, this endless stalemate!"
War managed to block it with his sword, but it sent him flying through the air. He landed on his ass, more than a hundred yards away.
"I go to end this!" Death shouted, and spurred his terrible steed, and rode straight for the fort like a black thundercloud...
"Hell," War muttered, as he got himself up. He ran for his horse...
Pestilence blocked his path. Hissing like a snake, he leaped from his putrid, stinking yellow steed, and tackled War, and brought him down...
"Back to the wall! Everyone back to the wall now!" Rebecca shouted into her radio over the bedlam of rifle fire, hardly able to hear her own voice in the tumult as she ran back toward the wall with the rest of the soldiers and the Kree'shon, the last vestiges of the smoke spell she had cast disappearing behind her. The demons would be getting their bearings again in a few seconds; they would be at the wall within seconds after that. And there were still far too many of the enemy left alive, and she had lost too many men; that changed the plan. If she gave the order to make a stand at the wall now, Rebecca knew the defenders would all be slaughtered. They would have to retreat to the wall and use the time Tara's shield bought them to get back to the fort and arrange the troops inside. The long, narrow corridors in there would work to their advantage at least...Rebecca looked around for Faith and Buffy. She saw Buffy a couple of hundred yards to her right, retreating through the smoke but firing her rifle as she went. She couldn't see Faith, but half the men still hadn't appeared from under the remnants of the smoke cloud yet. She focused on her radio. "Tara, it's time for the shield," she said into it, trying to keep her voice calm as she looked around for Faith. "Just like we discussed, set it in front of the wall to cover our retreat back to the fort and make sure it burns anything it touches. We need it in thirty seconds! Wait thirty seconds for us all to get back behind the wall, then cast it! Have you got that?"
There was no response. Rebecca checked her radio. It was working. It was on the right frequency.
"Tara!" Rebecca said. "Tara!"
"You two men outside the chapel!" Rebecca shouted into the radio. "Get upstairs and check on Tara NOW!"
"Becca! BECCA!"
Rebecca looked around, and then she saw her, coming out of the smoke...she was covered with demon blood, her face was caked with dirt, and she was pointing...
Pointing at Death, riding straight toward them.
Rebecca felt panic clutch her heart. She ran for Faith...
"FAITH!" Rebecca screamed. "FAITH! I'M COMING!"
The vampires and the demons were moving now; they would be on them soon. They were almost at the top of the hill now, a ravenous, endless horde...
Rebecca ran for Faith. She saw her just ahead, standing in the middle of the field, staring straight at Death, scared out of her wits, frozen there...but holding her ground. Faith held her sword ready in front of her, just the way Rebecca had taught her.
Rebecca ran for her. She didn't think. She didn't think about the battle, about the plan, about retreating to the fort, about the demons heading straight for her. She ran straight for Faith and she didn't think about anything else except reaching her. When she reached her, then she'd let herself think about things.
When Rebecca finally reached Faith, she threw her arms around her, and covered her dirty, tear-streaked face with kisses. "Come along, darling," Rebecca said. "It's time to go."
Faith nodded. She was shaking a little.
"I don't know where Buffy is," Faith whispered. "A demon smashed up my radio in the smoke and...and I gotta...I gotta find Buffy."
"I just saw her coming out of the smoke a moment ago, she's all right," Rebecca said. "Come on!"
And she grabbed Faith's hand, and ran with her back toward the wall, the demons nearly on their heels now, and wondered if Tara would be able to get the shield up before the demons reached the wall...
As they ran, Rebecca's radio crackled to life.
"Miss Greer," a voice said. "Ma'am...we found her...Tara. She was just lying on the floor up here. We don't know how it happened, she's got no wounds, but...she's not breathing, she doesn't have a pulse. She's dead."
"So She abandoned us," Willow said. "Actually, She abandoned us before too, right? Giles said there was a flood six-thousand years ago...the first time the Horsemen were released. He said some Sumerian priest guy prayed to God, the Goddess, whatever, and you came down with the Key and you locked up the Horsemen and the world was saved."
"Yes," Rachel said. "After the creatures who would come to call themselves human beings were given souls, Mother watched them with great curiosity. But they were no less savage, it seemed to Her, than they had ever been. In fact they seemed to become even more savage as the millennia passed. The more intelligent they became, the worse their depredations seemed to become. For hundreds of thousand of years, Mother watched them with growing impatience, until finally She had enough. She decided to destroy the humans, and make an end to it. It had been a mistake giving them souls, She decided. But then a good man prayed...and Mother listened. Finally, She sent me to cage the Horsemen."
"What are the Horsemen? Are they like...I don't know, demons or something?"
"No, they're human creations. Like your gods...you heard that Tara brought two of them down just a few days ago. Like those gods, the Horsemen were created from human belief. But the Horsemen are more powerful than the other gods human beings dreamed into existence. The Horsemen come from older dreams...dreams of deprivation, and disease, and war, and death...the oldest human experiences. Before humans hoped, they feared. Before they could dare to dream a noble Thor or a wise Athena into existence, their nightmares created the Horsemen. And when the floodwaters came, the Horsemen came with them...and no one could stop them. So powerful are the Horsemen, so potent are the ancient fears that dreamed them into the world, that even though they are human creations, human beings must take up their mantles and become them. War is a man named Nathaniel Eldridge, who was born in 1830, in Tennessee."
"How could he be born in 1830 if he was there during the flood six-thousand years ago?"
"The Horsemen are timeless, like all the gods human beings have dreamed into existence. Athena, whom Tara prays to, was created in Libya six-thousand years ago by people who would go on to colonize Greece, but she existed long before that."
"Um...and how is it that we can create gods exactly?"
Rachel smiled. "Though you've angered Her, still human beings are the children of the Goddess. Like your Mother, you are creators."
"So, okay...the Goddess saved the world from the Horsemen, and then decided to try being human after that to see what our deal was?"
"Yes. After She relented and gave human beings a reprieve from the flood, Mother watched them awhile. For thousands of years, She watched them, and She realized She didn't understand them. So She became human."
Willow realized the explosions had stopped. She could hear screaming now... coming from just outside the fort.
"And it didn't go so well, and so She told us all to screw," Willow said. "Which brings us back to why we're here. She's abandoned us, and I can't even really say I blame Her. How am I supposed to convince Her to save us? Maybe we shouldn't be saved."
"Maybe not," Rachel said. "That's up to you."
"Okay," Angel said, as he limped toward the wall, glancing back over his shoulder at the valley below as he went, and he saw Death riding straight toward the fort like a black arrow shot from a bow. "That can't be good."
"Nope, definitely not good, just like this gimpy leg," Buffy said, suddenly beside him now. She took his arm, and helped him move. He hadn't even sensed her approach...everything was chaos out there, and it was impossible now to lock on to a scent. The ground thundered and quaked as the horde of demons and vampires came on after them. Angel felt like he had been caught up in the middle of an elephant stampede. Buffy had tears in her eyes, Angel noticed. He realized he did too.
"Whoever thinks they can make it back to the fort, give it your best shot!" Rebecca's voice suddenly shouted over the radio. "We need as many soldiers as possible inside the fort before we shut the doors!"
"Where's Faith?" Angel said.
"Don't know, tried her on the radio but I can't reach her," Buffy said, as she whisked him along so quickly his feet barely touched the ground. "You hear about Tara?"
"Tara Maclay was a very special young woman, of extraordinary grace and kindness, and courage," they heard Rebecca saying, over their radios. "So, to everyone who can't make it back to the fort: I hope you'll all join me in giving these bastards a warm greeting at the wall. For Tara, and all the people we've lost."
"I think the best way to honor her memory is to kill as many of these bastards as possible, as painfully as possible," Angel said. "That work for you?"
"Yeah," Buffy said, and wiped her tears away, and smiled. "I still love you, Angel. I'll always love you."
"I know," Angel said, and smiled too. "Now leave me and get the hell back to the fort. I'll make my stand here."
"Nope," Buffy said, and giggled, as they leapt over the wall together, took cover, and began firing into the mass of demons that was nearly upon them. Without Tara's shield to buy them time to make it back to the fort, there was nothing else to do but make a stand at the wall. Buffy might have been able to make it back alone, but she wouldn't just abandon Angel out there. She noticed other defenders taking cover at the wall now too...it looked like about half the soldiers. The rest were trying to make it back to the fort. Buffy noticed that the Kree'shon, every last one, were making their stand at the wall.
"You're not supposed to say you know I love you when I tell you I love you by the way," Buffy said, still giggling, and punched him in the shoulder. "You're supposed to be like, y'know...all surprised and thankful and stuff. Or at least pretend to be."
"Since we're gonna die in about thirty seconds, thinkin' maybe I'm gonna stop pretending about--"
A scream sounded over the battlefield; it practically cracked the sky in half.
It wasn't a human scream. It was more like some animal's roar...
For a moment, the battle stopped.
Death reined in his horse, and stopped his advance. He looked down the valley, and waited.
"Well I'll be damned," Angel said.
As Death waited on his terrible black horse, War galloped up the hill straight toward him on his magnificent white one...
"How did they...how did they kill Tara?" Faith whispered, holding her sword ready as the horde approached. They were seconds away. They smelled like a rolling wave of bile. She wasn't firing her rifle anymore, because she had run out of ammunition. There was no time to make it back to the fort; if they turned their backs and ran the vampires and the demons would be on them before they made it halfway to the doors.
"I don't know," Rebecca said, and stood beside her, firing her rifle one-handed; she kept her other hand on Faith's shoulder, and ran her fingers through her hair. "Maybe a psychic." Rebecca saw a good number of the soldiers streaming into the fort, while the rest waited at the wall. Up and down the wall, the Kree'shon were already getting into the fight, running out to meet the first wave of the demons as the soldiers hung back, firing their rifles until the last possible moment. Rebecca spoke into her radio again. "You soldiers in the fort, the moment the enemy breaches the wall I want you to shut and bar the doors. We'll hold them here as long as we can. Then it's your turn. Buffy, do you read me?"
"Yeah," Buffy's voice came back.
"You're a hell of a Slayer, Buffy," Rebecca said. "It was a privilege to be your Watcher, and I know you're going to make me proud today. Faith needs to talk to you, and we don't have much time. But I just wanted you to know I'm proud of you."
"Thank you, Rebecca," Buffy whispered.
Rebecca handed Faith the radio.
"Hey, honey," Faith said. "Lost my radio. We got like five seconds left to talk here. You okay? You do okay in the smoke?"
"Killed about thirty. You?"
"Yeah. Got their damn blood all over me. It stinks. Gotta go. I love you."
"I love you too, baby," Buffy said.
There was nothing else to say. There was no time. Faith handed Rebecca the radio. She looked down at the ring on her finger. Two hearts.
"I love you, Becca," Faith said, with tears streaming down her cheeks now, just before the horde reached the wall. "Thank you for my life."
"We're not done, vulture," War said.
War trotted his horse around, to block Death's path. They faced each other.
War held his great silver sword aloft. It lit up the battlefield for hundreds of yards all around, keeping the darkness at bay. But Death sat astride his terrible black steed, and held his scythe ready, and looked upon War like a tree he meant to fell.
"So you killed Pestilence too, eh?" Death said, in his voice like stones grinding beneath the Earth, a mere whisper in the bedlam going on all around them, as the vampires and the demons, still more than twenty-thousand strong, surged against the wall, overwhelming the beleaguered defenders, but Death's voice sliced through the din like a razor.
And then, Death laughed. It was a terrible sound. Everyone on the field who heard it, human, vampire or demon, felt their hearts quail.
"I'll be more of a challenge, I think," Death said.
War looked around. The demons were at the wall, cutting down the defenders. The fort's massive granite doors were shut, before half the defenders had been able to make it back. The witch was supposed to cast a shield to cover the retreat, but for some reason, she hadn't...
War reached out with his mind. All soldiers were his; he could read their thoughts, their memories...
A moment later, he saw it...felt it. The witch, Tara Maclay, was dead.
And he felt all the other deaths, too...the demons were cutting the soldiers down in droves now. The Kree'shon were fighting well, he noticed; every Kree'shon who fell was taking ten demons with it. But the Kree'shon would all be dead within minutes. Already, nearly all the human soldiers were.
Death spurred his horse and charged at him, swinging his scythe. War blocked it with his sword, sending up a bolt of lightning and a thundering BOOM. They grappled that way, Death trying to bring his scythe down against War's neck, and war barely fending it off...
"Death always wins, Nathaniel," Death said, as his scythe inched closer, and War's sword-arm trembled with the exertion as he just barely held it at bay.
"Fight ain't...over yet," War whispered.
Death laughed again. With the suddenness of a snake he whirled his scythe around and cleaved it into War's horse's neck. The horse went down, sending War tumbling to the mud. Before he could get up Death leaped from his own steed like a panther, swinging his scythe for War's head. War blocked it again, just in time, but it sent him sprawling back down to the mud.
"You can't defeat me, Nathaniel," Death said, as he pushed the scythe straight down toward War's throat, and War's sword-arm shook, and nearly buckled under the strain. "I'm older than you. The nightmares that made me were much more potent. Wars are won and wars are lost, but in the end, all human beings know that death always wins. No one escapes me."
War felt his arm collapsing. Death was too strong...
"We're here today for a reason," Death said. "I'm here for a reason. You betrayed your calling for a reason. You and I are fighting for a reason. A great many have to die today, and some of them would surprise you. Nothing can happen out of Her hand."
War kneed Death in the chest. Death's grip on his scythe loosened, just for a second. War managed to punch him in the face and send him flying. He got himself up, as Death landed in the mud. He got a quick look at the fort. The demons had breached the wall. All the defenders, every last one, were dead or dying. The demons were running straight for the fort now. The doors were granite but War knew they wouldn't hold forever, and there couldn't have been more than a hundred soldiers inside.
Death looked too, as he got himself up out of the dirt and took up his scythe.
"So you'd have me surrender?" War said. "Because no matter what I do, I can't change anything?"
"Of course not," Death said, and raised his scythe. "You're War. You can't win. But that won't stop you."
Death charged at him. War raised his sword, and met the onslaught...
When Death's scythe came down upon War's sword, the Earth shook.
War's sword broke into pieces, and its light was extinguished. War was hurled senseless to the ground, his arm broken.
Death stood over him.
"A good fight, Nathaniel," Death said, looking around at the battlefield...at the bodies, demon and human, piled in bloody heaps. "A good fight. But you can't win. Because you've always wanted to die."
War tried to leap back up and throw a punch with his one good arm. Death slashed at him with his scythe, and cut the arm off. War grunted, and fought back a scream, and fell to the ground again.
"Is that what this was really about?" Death said. "Gaining your release? Dying, so you could finally see your wife and daughter again?"
War tried to get up again. He clutched at Death's robe, to steady himself.
"Ain't...rollin' over...for you," War muttered.
"I know," Death said. "I bear you no ill will, Nathaniel. I send you now to see Emma and Katie. I send you to the peace you've earned."
Death moved closer to him.
"And I shall tell you this, which may bring you some comfort on your journey," Death said. "Today, I shall die too, last of the four. For we were only the stuff of humanity's nightmares, but today, the Goddess shall call the dreamers to awake."
"Katie," War whispered.
Death raised his scythe.
"Be at peace, Nathaniel," he said, and brought his scythe down, and cut off War's head.
War's body slumped to the ground, and his lifeless skull rolled across the field, coming to a stop in the dirt.
Death looked up at the sky.
"One last battle to fight," he said...
And then the sky was filled with lightning.
"We made it!" Willow shouted, as the chariot careened through the portal and sailed out into a black, smoke-filled sky. But it was the sky, not some void; she felt the wind on her face...
And then she saw the battle.
"Oh, Goddess..." Willow whispered, as she peered over the side of the chariot, and saw the space all around the fort almost seeming to move of its own accord under the bloody light of that blasphemous red moon, as it swarmed with vampires and demons all converging on the fort. "How many...how many of them are there?"
Thor was standing in the front of the chariot, looking straight down. He had his hammer in his hand. Lightning was crackling about it now. Overhead, black stormclouds were racing through the sky, and they were charged with lightning too, and a cold rain was starting to fall.
"I count twenty-two thousand at least," Thor said.
"Twenty-two thousand?!" Willow shouted.
"Aye, and there were more to start with," Freyja said, pointing down at the valley below as the chariot swooped toward the fort like a shooting star. "See! Thousands of those swine lie dead in the grass."
"The humans did not die meekly," Loki said. "Aye, songs will be sung about their deeds this day. I see no living defenders outside the fortress but the great stone doors are shut. See how the demons pound upon the doors, desperate to get in! The battle is not yet lost, I think."
Willow looked down at the bodies piled behind the little stone wall, scattered haphazardly here and there like discarded toy soldiers. She couldn't recognize any of them; it was too dark, and she was too far away.
Willow had been thinking about what she would do, if they succeeded. She would go back to 2009, where she belonged, she supposed. She would be with Tara again...her Tara. The one here, at the battle, wasn't hers: in 1998, they hadn't even started dating yet.
But this Faith was hers. And before Willow returned to 2009, to her Tara, she would save Faith first. And she would explain to Faith why she had to leave her the year before...and how she hadn't wanted to...how she would have done anything to stay...
She's in the fort, Willow told herself. Faith's alive in the fort.
"Willow," Thor said. "Loki and Freyja will drive the demons back from the fortress. Once they have, create a shield around the fortress and hold it as long as you can."
"What of this First Evil creature?" Freyja said. "It is leading this battle, Willow says. It controls these rabble."
"It can't touch anything," Willow said.
"Aye, and when strength does not avail, a more cunning way is called for," Loki said. "Perhaps Loki has a trick up his sleeve. But this is the First's game, and those demons are but pawns on its board. We must put the king in check. Thor, Freyja, leave the First to me. Once it shows itself, I'll deal with it."
"Leave it to you?" Willow said, looking back at him. "What are you gonna do? I told you, the First is incorporeal! Nothing affects it!"
Loki smiled. "When are you going to stop underestimating me? The First is my concern. See to your shield, and protect the fort."
"Very well, brother," Thor said, and raised his hammer. "Enough talk! Mjolnir hungers for skulls to split asunder." Thor pointed down at the battlefield with his hammer, at something Willow couldn't see. "You may have the First. But that one is mine. Freyja shall clear away the pawns so Willow can protect the fort, while Thor takes the enemy's knight from the board."
"Done," Loki said. "Who do you think the old vulture is here for? It would be annoying, if the sagas were wrong, and we all died today, instead of at our proper time."
"Maybe he's here for us, though Mjolnir shall debate the point most strenuously," Thor said. "But he is definitely here for these wretched Hel-spawn: every last one of them shall come to him this day."
Thor raised his hammer.
The storm came.
Faith laid in the mud, looking up at the sky. There was a storm...she saw lightning, and she heard thunder, and she could feel rain on her face...
It had all happened so quickly. She had become separated from Rebecca when the first wave of them crashed into the wall...she couldn't find Rebecca, and she went looking...she ducked and dodged and killed where she could, as the demons and the vampires slammed into them. They managed to hold the wall for a few minutes. They had enough men with flamethrowers to keep the demons back awhile, and the Kree'shon wouldn't give an inch...so Faith went looking for Rebecca.
On the way, she found Buffy, dead. Buffy's neck was broken.
Something went out of Faith, when she saw Buffy that way. She felt it leaving her.
She knelt by Buffy's body, and didn't move for awhile...
And then she had gotten up again. She remembered she had to find Rebecca. She felt a sharp pain in her upper back, but she ignored it. Everything was loud and jumbled, and it all seemed to be slowing down.
At then, at some point, Faith had found herself on the ground, where she was now, staring up at the sky, and she didn't remember how she had gotten there. There had been screams, and a stampede of bodies all around...some of the demons had trampled on her as they passed. Faith had laid there, staring up at the sky, unable to move.
The air still smelled like firecrackers now, and it was becoming hard to breathe. She felt winded, for some reason. She remembered she needed to look for Rebecca. She tried to get up, and nothing happened. Her body didn't move.
Faith felt sticky, under the kevlar. She didn't like the feeling. She moved her hand underneath her armor, over her chest, and felt blood there. She felt around a little more. It didn't hurt yet. She just felt cold.
There was a jagged hole in her chest. She felt it. She had no idea how it had gotten there.
Then she remembered. There had been a demon. While she was kneeling beside Buffy, a demon had attacked her with a long dagger...he had stabbed her straight through the back. She remembered the feeling now, as the dagger sliced through her. It wasn't so much painful as it was surprising. It still didn't hurt now. Faith didn't think it would. She didn't think there was time now, as everything started to go black...
Faith remembered the alley, the night Rebecca found her. It was cold...but then Rebecca drove her away in her car, and the car was warm. She remembered Rebecca explaining to her what a lout was. She remembered the chocolate cake they had at the restaurant. It was her birthday.
Faith remembered the night she told Buffy she loved her. She had been hurt...Buffy had given her a bath, and bandaged her wounds...that was her birthday too.
Faith remembered the hotel room, in Boston...how she would watch movies on the couch with Willow...holding her in her arms...
"You better not...fall asleep during the movie," Faith whispered, but she couldn't hear herself, over the noise...there was lightning in the sky, and thunder...and the demons and the vampires were pounding on the door of the fort. It sounded like bombs going off. "Better... not."
The rain on her face was cold. Faith felt her mouth fill up with blood.
As she laid there in the mud, and the rain fell on her face, and she looked up into the storm, the last thing Faith saw before everything became black was a light, that seemed to be headed toward her...it was as bright as a shooting star...
Faith closed her eyes.
"It's up to me?" Willow said. "What do you mean, up to me? It's up to the Goddess, not me. I'm just praying. Praying for this shit world She made, for these shit people She hates, but She's the only one who can stop this. But I mean, She hates us all, right? She hates us for what we did to Her, She hates us because we're a bunch of murdering assholes. She almost fucking drowned us all once, then She turned Her back on us, and now She's gonna let us die again. So what's the fucking point of this anyway?"
Rachel took Willow's hand, and looked into her eyes.
"She doesn't hate you," Rachel said. "She never hated you. She's your Mother. She loves you. But sometimes...when She's been hurt, when those She cares for have been hurt, She can lash out. The Goddess isn't perfect, Willow. Yes, She's the Creator. Yes, She's the sum total of everything, the beginning and the ending. And yes, She's angry at humanity, and She has been for a long time. But She loves you, too. And love can drive us to desperate things. You told Buffy that everything in the world comes from love; love, or the absence of it. And you were right. People do desperate things for their love. And they do desperate things when they don't have love, too. In the end, that's all evil really is. Darkness craving the light. Everything comes down to love, Willow, because that's the story the Goddess is telling us."
"The story?" Willow said.
"The world is a story," Rachel said. "The world is a love story."
Angelus knew something was wrong the moment the storm started. It wasn't natural; the thunderclouds had arrived in seconds and the lightning raked through the sky like it might actually split the heavens asunder, spearing down in bolt after devastating bolt, incinerating everything it touched, and terrible, riotous thunder came on in its wake, roaring like a fleet of battleships firing all their cannons off at the same time. The lightning came down straight at the demons who were pounding on the entrance to the fort, as if it was seeking them out, and it vaporized scores of them in seconds...
Angelus looked up at the clouds, trying to find the source of the bizarre storm...
He saw a god standing in the sky.
The god wore a crown of lightning, and lightning blazed from his eyes, and he carried lightning in his hand.
"DEMONS!" the god, a man with long blonde hair that flowed like gold and gray eyes the color of stormclouds shouted, in a voice that dwarfed the thunder, and made the demons quake. They stopped pounding upon the entrance to the fort, and some of them actually retreated, at the sound of that voice. Angelus focused in on the ones who were retreating and set them back about their work. They returned to the fort like whipped dogs, but they didn't pound on the door. Instead, they watched the sky...they looked up at a god, every last one of them, and trembled.
The god carried a giant war hammer, Angelus noticed: he held it above his head as he stood upon the air, borne aloft by the storm winds. Lightning crackled about it.
As the god stood there in the sky, and Angelus and all his demons and vampires stared up at him, they saw that he wasn't alone. A woman soon joined him, soaring down out of the black night on eagle wings, carrying a massive sword. She hovered beside the god like an angel descending from Heaven.
"THE STORM IS UPON YOU," the god said, and hurled his hammer...
Willow sat next to Rachel on the altar, and sipped her Sprite, and thought about things.
Rachel had told her the Goddess didn't hate human beings. But Willow wasn't so sure. Even worse, Willow wasn't so sure she could blame the Goddess for hating them. She realized, now that she thought about it, that she had never much trusted people, herself. She had some friends, and she loved them. But there weren't many of them, and it always took her a long time to let someone new into her heart...she was always afraid of being hurt. And there were people she liked at school, but they were mostly just acquaintances. She didn't know any of them very well, because she hadn't let herself get to know them...she was always afraid of being hurt.
And why shouldn't she be afraid, she thought. Human beings hurt each other. It's just what they did. How they were made. Maybe they were defective models.
"Where do people go when they die?" Willow said. She turned back to Rachel. "You said the Goddess turned Her back on us like two-thousand years ago. So do souls go to Heaven at all? Is there a Heaven?"
"All souls return to the Goddess," Rachel said. "But for a time it wasn't so. For a time, when the Goddess had turned Her back on humanity, souls...waited."
"Waited?"
"The Goddess knows everything that will happen, remember? And nothing can happen out of Her hand. Souls waited for that day when the Goddess relented, and tried again...when She tried again to understand Her children."
"That day?" Willow said. "What day? How did She try again?"
Willow sprinted through the mud, making the best speed she could to the fort in that black night as the horrendous storm rampaged through the sky. The lightning flashed like starbursts overhead and the thunder roared like bombs bursting all around her and Willow ran straight into a hurricane wind, stumbling over dead bodies, and pieces of dead bodies.
Sometimes the wind was so strong she couldn't make any forward progress at all, like she had run smack into a wall, and sometimes the wind was so strong it actually knocked her off her feet, like a physical blow, sending her sprawling into the mud beside the dead bodies that moldered there in piles like dead fish trapped on the shore after the tide had gone out; cold, faceless things now, just amorphous sacks of dead flesh, pelted by the rain and sinking down into the mud together like compost. But Willow always got herself back up when she fell. Sometimes demons or vampires accosted her as she ran, but she paid them no heed; she needed to find Faith. She shot fireballs ahead of her and in the direction of the fort; they kept the demons off her and they helped Freyja, who was trying to sweep the screaming horde of demons back from the fort's doors single-handedly. Willow's fireballs streaked through the black night like comets, hot as the sun, blazing a path through the rain, incinerating anything they came into contact with. The few demons who had tried to waylay Willow had turned to gas in front of her eyes, and her fireballs had done some damage at the fort too; every fireball killed a few of the demons who were clamoring to get to Freyja, and every little bit helped...
Willow kept sweeping her eyes around in the darkness as she ran. It was another reason she kept shooting fireballs; it was so dark out there she could hardly see. She thought Faith was in the fort, she believed it with every ounce of her will, but she kept looking down at the bodies by the hot, golden glow of her fireballs as they rocketed away from her...she looked down at the bodies, and wondered if she would recognize anyone. There were human beings and Kree'shon demons together; the humans were Riley's soldiers, Willow recognized their uniforms. But she didn't recognize any of the faces...
Willow knew she wouldn't find Faith out there. She knew it for a fact. She knew Faith was alive, inside the fort. She only looked at the bodies to see if she could recognize any of them. She knew none of them would be Faith. She knew it.
She kept running. She shot fireballs straight out in front of her like a gatling gun. She'd rested up before the trip and she was still at peak power.
Willow was supposed to be in the chariot. That had been the plan. Thor had told her to wait in the chariot, which was hovering just below the stormclouds, a few hundred feet above the field, and when Freyja had swept the demons far enough from the door, Willow was supposed to set up an energy shield around the fort, but she was supposed to do it from the chariot. That had been the plan...
Willow thought she felt something, a little ways to her right...
She turned, and saw a bone skewer slicing straight at her neck. There was no time to think, much less set up a shield...
Before she even had a chance to scream, the air exploded around her in black sparks as the skewer collided with an energy shield that suddenly burst into life around her. Willow saw the skewer stop, just inches from her neck, and shatter. There was a hissing scream, like the sound some reptile would make.
Willow saw the demon who had attacked her for only a fraction of a second, before it incinerated in front of her eyes, and burned down to nothingness, just wisps of black vapor on the wind. Willow recognized the demon, it was a Polgara. They were reptilian creatures; they were fast and they could camouflage themselves. It made them excellent at sneaking up on people. And the bone skewers in their forearms were sharp as razors. Another tenth of a second and Willow would have been beheaded.
She saw Loki standing a few feet away, his hand outstretched, black sparks coruscating around it like a lit stick of dynamite.
"You always were reckless," Loki said. "It's one of my favorite things about you. But if you're going to stray from the plan, the least you could do is not get yourself killed because you're too preoccupied to see what's happening two feet in front of you. If you died we'd all never hear the end of it. And I'm sure Thor and Freyja would have found a way to blame it on me. Let's at least try to keep our heads attached to our shoulders, hmm?"
And Loki smiled, and became a raven, and flew away.
"Who the hell are these people now?!" Angelus shouted, shaking his fist at the raging sky, as the winged goddess, because plainly she was a goddess, whatever else she may have been, swept the enemy back from the fort like a hurricane. The god with the hammer had hurled it straight at the vampires and the demons in front of the door and a whole lot of them had instantly fell down dead. The god had attacked Death after that, and the battle had drawn both of them far from the fort. But then the goddess had swooped down upon the demons while they were still trying to get their bearings after the hammer had scattered them like ten-pins and now she was kicking the holy hell out of them, swinging her sword around so fast Angelus couldn't even see it move, and sending demons flying. She was actually holding back twenty-two-thousand, four-hundred and seven demons and vampires by herself. Angelus had never, in all his days, seen anything like it. Meanwhile the storm had only gotten worse, and random lightning strikes were incinerating demons all over the field. It was all Angelus could do now just to keep them all focused on the task at hand, but that damned girl wouldn't let them near the door...
"They are Thor, and Freyja," a voice said. "Gods."
Angelus turned, and saw a beautiful, raven-haired man, with bright green eyes and a cruel, mocking smile, standing in the sky above him. The other god had lightning crackling about him; this one had some sort of black energy, as if darkness itself was his weapon.
"The God of Thunder, and the Goddess of...well, getting on my nerves if you must know," the raven-haired man said. "And battle, I suppose, as you can see."
"Gods, sure, whatever," Angelus said, and rolled his eyes. "Human beings and their stupid fantasies. And who the hell are you? Kinda busy right now, don't really have time to kill you right this second."
"I am Loki," the raven-haired man said, and bowed, somehow, even though he was standing thirty feet in the air. "And you are The First."
"Uh-huh," Angelus said, not really paying attention. He was watching the fort. The demons were still trying, but that damned girl was not only holding them off, she was actually beginning to drive them back...the problem was, the demons couldn't really use their numbers against her. She was standing with her back to the fort's doors, and even surrounded by the demons and the vampires on three sides, they could only send twenty or so at her at a time. They came in wave after wave, but she kept on beating them back. "And let me guess, you're a god too, right? So what are you the god of? Rainy days and Mondays?"
"Lies, and general mischief," Loki said. "Some would say evil, but I think that's rather harsh. There are two sides to every story after all. Oh, and I'm also rather good with magic. In fact, there are none better. Anywhere."
Angelus looked at him. For the first time, he considered him.
"There's a reason I'm talking to you, right?" Angelus said. "How about you cut to the chase and tell me what it is."
Loki chuckled. It sounded like music. "You're quite an arrogant, disagreeable fellow, aren't you? You're positively boorish, in fact. I do believe you offend me. Nevertheless, you present an opportunity for mischief too intriguing to pass up. Aye, for mischief on a grand scale. I have heard tell that you cannot touch anything...that you are impotent. A shadow. Harmless as a newborn babe. I could help you with that problem."
"Help me? Help me how?"
"Telling you the cause of your affliction, for one thing. You are being kept disconnected from this world's time by a magic binding spell that sent this entire world and everything on it a fraction of a second into the past. The spell was created by an assemblage of very powerful gods, all working in league together to keep you from working mischief on Midgard. But none can keep Loki from working mischief. Mischief is my bread and butter."
"What's a Midgard?"
"Earth, you vain twit. These gods you mock, these products of stupid human fantasies, have kept you in chains for eons."
"You said you're the god of lies. So I should believe you because...?"
"Believe me or don't, it is of no concern to me. I am not currying your favor. You can be of use to me, that's all. You might provide me some amusement."
"Which gods, just out of curiosity? If I ever manage to be able to touch stuff again I'm gonna wanna know so I can kill them."
"It was Hera's idea, the shriveled old battle-axe. She called those tiresome Greeks, Apollo, Artemis, Hermes and Hephaestus together, and then some musty old Egyptians, Osiris, Anubis, Khonshu, Horus and Thoth, joined them. Enlil, Ninlil and Marduk, the hoary old forgotten Babylonians, roused themselves from their long slumber just to do this one thing, and then Vishnu and Shiva, who really are very heroic when faced with the prospect of having to brave unknown dangers as long as a dozen others at the very least have to brave the dangers first, were finally swayed to throw in with them. And I do believe Coyote himself, trickster god of the original inhabitants of these lands, lent a hand too, but only because he craved amusement. He's been so terribly bored these past few centuries, now that his worshippers have been conquered. Those sixteen are the ones who keep you in chains."
Loki descended to the ground, and strode up to Angelus, and looked him in the eye, and smiled.
"But Loki possesses the key," Loki said.
Thor's hammer flew through the black sky faster than the speed of sound, creating a sonic boom in its wake, and streaked straight at Death's head.
Death raised his scythe to deflect it, just in time. The hammer struck the scythe with such force that it created a shockwave that sent every single living creature on that battlefield hurtling to the mud. Death's horse staggered backwards, and nearly fell, but then it righted itself.
"Your power has not diminished, Thunder God," Death said. "And your fury blazes like the sun, and it lends you strength. It would be satisfying, to find out once and for all which is more powerful, the bright, golden god of the world's dreams, who lights the way ahead and shows human beings the greatness they can aspire to, or the terrible black rider of their nightmares, who hunts them through all their days, and shows them they can never escape what they really are. But, as entertaining as our skirmishes have been in the past, I have not come here for you."
"Perhaps Thor has come here for you!" Thor shouted, as he stood there raging in the storm, an irresistible force come up against an immovable object, and the lightning in the sky seemed to concentrate itself above him, and his hammer flew back to his hand.
"That would be a fool's errand, Thor," Death said. "You cannot kill me. You know you cannot. But there is another enemy here...one you have not yet discovered. If I were you, I'd ready my defenses. Not that it will do any good."
"Is this like Shakespeare-speak for you can make me corporeal again?" Angelus said. "Is that what you're trying to tell me, and taking a frigging long time to do it?"
Loki stood there, and sighed.
"You really are uncouth," Loki said. "You have no appreciation for elegant speech, for words that soar. Words can be beautiful, priceless vessels in which we keep our thoughts. But you use them as pots to piss in. Yes, I can make you corporeal. Yes, I can negate the binding spell, with your help."
"How the hell can you negate a spell with the power of sixteen different gods behind it?" Angelus said.
Loki looked at him like he had just said the Earth was flat. He frowned at Angelus, as if he was genuinely puzzled by his remark.
"I am Loki," Loki said.
"So I guess you think you're pretty hot shit," Angelus said, and looked at Loki...and tried to get a feel for him. The First desperately wanted to become corporeal again but this seemed too good to be true. He was used to having to coerce his followers, or at least entice them with appeals to their vanity or their greed or their lust; they didn't usually just walk right up to him and offer their services.
"With your cooperation, I can negate the binding spell," Loki said. "Or we can stand here forever and I can listen to you mangle the English language, but that would grow boring very quickly. Decide. If you do not want my help I'll fly away. There are many more interesting creatures I could be talking to. I still owe Thrivaldi the Frost Giant a barrel of mead. He has nine heads, and each of them speaks independently, and they are all excellent conversationalists. Drinking with Thrivaldi is always edifying."
"What do you need from me, and how do I know this isn't a trick?" Angelus said. There was something he didn't like about Loki...there was something dangerous about him. Loki had ambition.
"Merely take my hand, and concentrate," Loki said. "I will move myself into your time, and then you must hold fast to me while I pull Midgard forward to join us. And it is no trick. I give you my word on my father's life, on my brother's life, that I will give you back form."
"Why?"
Loki smiled. "It will amuse me. And I'm dangerous when I'm bored."
Angelus looked toward the fort. Freyja was pushing the demons back even further. The demons simply couldn't get close to her in sufficient numbers to even land a blow. And every second he wasted, Willow was a second closer to saving the world...
He reached out his hand.
"How do we do this?" Angelus said, as Loki took it.
Angelus felt something; it was like a sensation of falling, but it only lasted a second. Like walking down a flight of stairs, and missing a step, and then righting yourself.
Loki smiled. "It is done," he said.
"You're shitting me," Angelus said, and grinned.
"A demonstration is called for," Loki said, and held up his hand. Instantly, one of the demons attacking the fort hurtled through the air and landed in the mud right in front of Angelus, snarling its confusion.
Angelus picked it up by the neck, and pulled off its head like he was pulling the cork out of a champagne bottle. Its blood shot up like a red geyser.
Angelus dropped the demon's headless body to the ground, and laughed.
"This," Angelus said. "This...is awesome."
"I am gonna kill so many people!" Angelus said, and started giggling.
"I think not," Loki said.
When Angelus looked up again, Loki wasn't there anymore. At least, Loki didn't look like Loki anymore.
Now, Loki was a dragon.
He hovered in the air above Angelus, a great, brown, scaly, winged serpent with menace in his green eyes and a mocking sneer twisting his giant, fanged maw, and he was over a hundred feet long from the end of his snout, which exhaled smoke, to the tip of his tail, which was thick as a battering ram and covered with long, sharp, bony spikes, and swinging back and forth through the air now quick as a whip. Loki was three times as wide as he was long, because of the immense reach of his giant, translucent, bat-shaped wings, and as Angelus watched him hovering there, beating the air with his wings to keep his enormous bulk aloft, Angelus could actually feel the power generated by those wings; it was like standing in a wind tunnel. On the one hand, Angelus thought it was pleasant, finally being able to feel something like the wind; but on the other hand he had to lean forward and brace himself to keep from being blown away, and that was annoying.
"You think not, Shakespeare?" Angelus said. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, and why should I care? And I thought you weren't trying to trick me."
"It means I have no intention of allowing you to hurt the mortals," the dragon growled, in a rumbling voice like a booming foghorn. "I wasn't trying to trick you, I promised to bring the world back into its proper time, so you can affect things within it, and that's exactly what I did. But, you asked why should you care?"
Loki opened his giant, fang-filled maw and sent down a blistering stream of flame. It rocketed through the air like it had been shot out of a flamethrower and it erupted around Angelus with such tremendous force that Angelus felt like the sun had suddenly fallen out of the sky and landed right on top of his head. And he felt something else, as he stood there engulfed in withering fire, something he hadn't felt for millennia: pain. Angelus screamed, and fell to one knee in the mud, his skin charred and hanging off of him in black, bloody strips like a piece of barbecued meat. Fire couldn't kill him, he was an angel. But it shouldn't have hurt him either. In his youth, he had explored the innards of stars. There was something different about this fire... something magical.
"You should care because now, we can affect you," Loki said.
"Fiend?" Death said, and laughed, as the thunder crashed in the sky, and the demons at the fort shrieked as Freyja killed them, and the defenders inside the fort waited with their guns drawn, and wondered how many more moments they had until the doors buckled, and their lives were at an end. "Is that how you see me? If I am a fiend, then so is time, so is gravity, so is the sun in the sky. I am part of the natural order of things. Because everything dies, Thunder God. Even you. And now we are at the end. I'd tell you to help Freyja at the fort, but you won't have time. Your hidden foe is almost upon you...and if the world is to survive its onslaught, you will have to be strong."
"What are you talking about?" Thor shouted, and looked around the battlefield. "Where is this enemy? Who is it?!"
"I do not have time for more riddles just now, storm crow," Thor said. "Battle calls me."
Thor leapt into the air, propelled by the storm winds, and soared away.
"You'll find out in a moment anyway," Death said. "She's coming."
Willow knelt by the wall.
She had been running straight to the fort, not slowing anymore to look at the bodies in the mud; her brush with the Polgara demon had taught her caution. So she had started running straight toward the fort again, this time with a shield around her so she could avoid anymore unpleasant surprises until she was able to reach Freyja...
And then she saw her. She saw Faith, lying in the mud at the wall, dead...
Willow knelt beside her. Willow knew, without even having to check, that no healing magic could save Faith now. She had been dead too long. She was pale, and cold. When Willow caressed her cheek, it was icy to the touch.
Faith laid there in the mud, the rain beating mercilessly down upon her, and Willow knelt beside her, and forgot about her shield, and forgot about Freyja at the wall, and forgot about the people inside the fort. There was a Willow inside the fort, and Willow forgot about her, too.
"Baby," Willow whispered, her tears mingling with the rain. "Baby, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left you. I didn't wanna. I wanted to stay with you forever and..."
Willow laid herself down on top of Faith, in the mud, and held her cheek against hers.
"I should never have left you, baby," Willow whispered, as her tears came faster. "I should never have left you. I left you and...and look what they did to you. Look what they did to my baby. Look what they did...look what they did..."
"The Goddess was angry with the human race, for a very long time," Rachel said. "But the man She loved had been a human being too, so even though She had turned Her back on human beings, even though She ignored their prayers as the vampires and the demons multiplied across the Earth, spreading like a plague and attempting, over and over again, to enslave or destroy you all, still the Goddess thought there might be some spark of good in you, of decency... of grace. She was too angry to talk to you, too angry to listen, but She controlled her temper. There would be no more floods, She would never again attempt to destroy you; that was the covenant She made with human beings six-thousand years ago, and She has honored it."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Willow said. "The frigging world's ending out there! Sure looks to me like She's trying to kill us all!"
"It isn't ending by Her hand," Rachel said. "She didn't free the Horsemen, human beings did. Human beings decided to end their world, unleashing indescribably powerful magics to hide the sun. The Goddess has taken the children away, to spare them. But She has done nothing else yet, to help or to hinder. She may be willing to save you all, I don't know. Only you can tell."
"You said a day came when the Goddess tried again. What did you mean?"
"She was angry, and She still is. She turned Her back on humanity. But not forever. Eventually, She relented. Humans could only hurt Her so much because She loved them so much, Willow. When She chose the human race to imbue with souls, She didn't make the choice randomly. She chose human beings, out of all the intelligent creatures in the universe. If the Goddess had never cared about you, you could not have hurt Her."
Willow remembered something She had said to Angel, just a little while ago.
I hated you in my heart for awhile, because you hurt me. But you were only able to hurt me so bad because I already cared about you so much.
"That...girl?" Willow said.
Rachel smiled.
"A very special girl," Rachel said. "A girl the Goddess cherishes. The Goddess has learned a great deal from her over the years...about strength, courage, perseverance...and faith."
"Faith," Willow whispered. "Faith..."
Willow felt something, in her mind...in her heart. It felt like the petals of a flower unfolding inside her.
"It's Faith," Willow said. "Faith's the girl."
"Yes," Rachel said. "The Goddess has been watching her, from the moment She was born. Faith has had a hard life, much harder than yours, or any of your friends. Born out of rape, to a mother who couldn't love her, who tortured her and beat her. Living alone, with no home. But even though her road was hard, even though she despaired sometimes, she was strong. She was stronger than the Goddess herself had been, the Goddess realized, as She watched her. But that wasn't all the Goddess did. The Goddess can create a stone so heavy that even She can't lift it, and She can keep a secret even from Herself, and She can be both Goddess and woman, watching a life and living one."
"Um...lost me there," Willow said.
"I was too late again," Willow said, as she laid crying beside Faith in the mud, and held her body in her arms, keeping her warm even though it didn't matter anymore, because Faith was gone now, and she would never feel warm again. "Just like before. If I had gotten here a little sooner I could've saved you, baby. And if, if I had gotten there sooner when I found you in Boston, I could've stopped Warren before he got to you. Magic was on the fritz that day I guess. And today, with the time stream being so crazy...oh, Goddess...I was too late again. I was too late again. I was too late to save you."
Willow looked at Faith's pale face. She smoothed the limp, muddy hair out her eyes, and kissed her cheek.
"You're so beautiful, Faith," Willow said. "You were always so beautiful. I loved you from the day I first met you."
Willow held Faith to her bosom, sitting there in the mud, as the storm roared on all around them, and the demons screamed and the battle went on, and the whole world hung in the balance, and Willow didn't care: she didn't care about any of it anymore. She took Faith's hand in hers. She noticed a ring on Faith's finger. She wiped her tears away, though the rain kept coming down in sheets, and in the glare of the lightning flashing ceaselessly overhead, she looked at it.
It was two golden hearts, inlaid with diamonds.
Willow smiled.
"Buffy's ring," she said. "She gave it to you today. It looks pretty on you, baby. I wanted to give you a ring. I wanted us to be together, but...but I guess...we just never, never, caught a break, huh?"
Willow started crying again.
"Like the day I found you," Willow said. "We were supposed to get there a couple hours before Warren even arrived, and stop him before he ever got to you. Instead, my frigging time portal suddenly didn't work right, for like the first time in my life, and--"
Willow sat up. She held Faith's head in her lap, and she stroked her hair.
And she remembered what Loki had told her, in the chariot, while they were navigating the time stream just a little while before...
Willow's face went pale. She felt the cold all around her seeping inside now...seeping straight down into her heart.
"He can alter my time portals," Willow whispered. "Loki can alter my time portals."
And then something happened, in Willow...something twisted in her.
"It was him," she said. "Loki. He...he altered my portal somehow, made me get to Boston late...and then when I couldn't find you, he..."
Willow felt the cold now, seeping into every part of her.
"He knew I'd call on him to help me," Willow said. "I had no other choice, Warren had taken you and I had no way to find you. Loki set the whole situation up. He made me get there late, so I would need him to find you...and when I asked for his help, he tried to enslave me. He... he gave Warren the opportunity to torture you...to beat you, to piss on you, to whip you, to try to hang you. All to get to me. It was all just another one of his tricks. Just another one of his games. Just another way to hurt me."
Willow stood up. She looked down at Faith's pale, cold, lifeless body, lying there in the mud. Faith looked smaller now. Her spirit had been so big and bright and beautiful, and now it was gone, and it had left her smaller, somehow.
As Willow looked down at Faith, her eyes turned pure black.
And Willow smiled, as she cried.
"We both got the shit end of the stick, Faith," Willow said. "I can't change that. I can't change the fact that you died here, because I was too late again. I can't make this up to you. But I can sure as hell avenge you. You're not gonna die alone. I promise you that, my love."
As Willow turned to find Loki, she noticed a group of demons running toward her. Apparently, some of them were retreating from the fort now.
Willow recognized them. They were Scourge demons. Pure-blood demons who hated demon breeds they considered of mixed race, and tried to kill them.
Scourge demons had super-strength and they specialized in weapons. There were sixteen of them coming at Willow now, and they all had swords.
"Die," Willow said, and walked right past them, as every single one of them exploded into vapor.
She looked around, and finally saw Loki: he was a dragon now, and he was fighting the First, along with Thor. The First was corporeal now, Willow noticed. Willow found that interesting, but it wasn't a matter for undue concern.
She raised her hand.
"Brother!" Loki said, as he swooped down at Angelus for another pass. "When I rake him with my claws, then you--"
Something grabbed hold of Loki; it felt like an icy claw. Whatever it was, he had never felt its like before, it felt almost as if it was clutching his heart. He roared, as it held him motionless in the sky, and he felt its tremendous, crushing pressure, like he was being hammered on an anvil. After a few seconds he could no longer maintain his shape. He reverted to his true form, and then he felt himself hurtling through the air.
"Brother! What is amiss?" he heard Thor saying, but then a second later Thor's voice seemed very far away...
When Loki got his bearings again, he was hovering a few feet off the ground, and looking at Willow.
She was smiling, a cruel, twisted smile. Her eyes were blacker than the void they had traveled through to reach the battle, blacker than any pit of Hel...they were two empty holes.
"Hey lover," Willow said. "Remember me?"
She waved her hand. Loki went soaring hundreds of feet through the air like a rocket and smashed into the upper level of the fort, shattering an entire section of the granite ramparts, and bringing it all down with him as he then fell back to Earth and landed flat on his face right in the midst of the demons who were still swarming around Freyja, trying to get to the door.
And then the battle stopped. Everywhere, the battle stopped.
The demons stopped surging toward Freyja. Thor stopped fighting the First.
Loki got himself up out of the mud. He saw Willow, coming toward him...
She was floating through the air, in a crackling halo of black light.
"Willow," Thor said, as she passed him. "What--"
Willow ignored him. She headed straight for Loki.
"Well this is interesting," Angelus said. Willow ignored him, too.
Willow came to a stop in front of Loki. She stood in the air, looking down at him, her eyes blacker than the black night around her.
"Willow?" Freyja said.
"You were right about him, Freyja," Willow said. "And I was a fucking fool."
"This again," Loki said, glancing up at Willow's black eyes, and grinning. "Are we having a temper tantrum, my dove? Has evil, manipulative Loki offended you somehow?"
The Earth quaked. Fissures began to erupt in the ground, all around them; lava shot up out of the fissures, hundreds of feet into the air.
Thor looked up at the sky. A storm had been raging; now the stormclouds dissipated, and the lightning and the thunder and the rain all stopped. The wind stopped; it was as if they were all standing in the eye of a storm.
Willow looked at the demons and the vampires.
"Die," she said.
The demons and the vampires, every last one of them, turned to vapor. One second, they were alive; the next, it was as if they had never been there.
"Willow, what...what have you done?" Freyja whispered.
"What have I done?" Willow said. "I've been a fucking sap is what I've done. I've let my friends down. I've watched them die. The love of my life is dead. But hey, it was probably all meant to happen, right? I mean, it's probably all in your fucking sagas, right? Maybe there's some book you guys never showed me."
She looked at Loki, and smiled. Behind her, the battlefield was flooded with smoke, and running red with molten lava. The lava ran down the hill to the wall, devouring everything, turning everything to ash. It consumed the bodies, burning them to dust and drowning them at the same time.
"How about it, Loki?" Willow said. "Was there some secret book you never showed me? There had to be, right?"
"You are talking a lot of tiresome female nonsense, woman," Loki said. "There was no secret book."
"Come on, there had to be," Willow said. "Y'know, the secret book that says you guys all make a fucking sap out of Willow? That book? The one that tells how you changed my time portal to make Thor and me get there late when Faith was being tortured, so then you could help me find her and I'd agree to be your slave."
"What?!" Thor shouted, and marched up to Loki. "Brother...tell me you did not. Tell me you did not allow an innocent girl to be tortured in order to bring Willow under your sway."
Loki didn't say anything.
"Doesn't matter anyway, she's dead now," Willow said. "Everyone I love is dead. Did the sagas say that, Thor? Did they say everyone I love has to die? That they have to get beaten up, and whipped, and have their, their bones broken, and..."
Willow had tears in her eyes now.
"And pissed on," Willow said. "He pissed on her, Loki. And then he almost hanged her. Because of you."
"Willow," Loki said. "There was...a reason why--"
"BECAUSE OF YOU!" Willow shrieked, and pointed at him. Instantly, the ground heaved beneath Loki's feet, as if the Earth itself was under Willow's sway. The ground shaped itself into a mountainous tendril, with a giant claw at the end of it, and it took Loki by the throat and sent him flying across the battlefield. Loki smashed head-first into the breastwork wall a few hundred yards away, putting a hole in it. Then that claw of stone held him aloft, strangling him.
"Willow," Thor said. Willow ignored him.
Thor noticed Death, approaching on his steed. Death was looking up at the sky. And there was a whistling sound coming from the sky...
"This is...very precocious, my dove," Loki gasped, as he squirmed in the grip of that rocky claw. "But this...trick cannot harm me."
"No," Willow called out to him. "But it can hold you still for a minute."
The whistling sound had gotten much louder. It was coming from above them. They all looked up...
A meteor was heading straight for Loki, coming in at an angle from the western sky, above the fort. It streaked through the sky, seeming small at first, but growing larger and larger as it came closer...
"Willow," Thor said. "Don't do this."
Loki was desperately trying to free himself from the stone claw now. Black energy crackled all around him, melting chunks of the rock, but the rock kept reforming itself. No matter what Loki did, he couldn't move. He tried changing his shape, to a raven, a wolf, even a fly, but that rocky claw changed with him, held him fast, caged him, no matter what shape he assumed...
"Willow!" Thor shouted.
Willow looked at him. The meteor, as large as a house, streaked right over the fort and headed straight for Loki.
"You know what?" Willow said. "I don't give a rat's ass how much you love your brother. So how about you stay the fuck out of my way."
"WILLOW!" Loki screamed, as the meteor came down right on top of him...
There was an explosion; it sounded like the fort had been hit with a missile. The whole room shook.
"What was that?!" Willow said, leaping off the altar and looking around.
"A loop being closed," Rachel said.
"Um...I think we need to hurry," Willow said. "I'm gonna need an answer soon. But first, what did you mean when you said the Goddess could be a Goddess and a woman? What did you say again? Something about...watching a life, and living a life?"
"I meant that even as the Goddess watched over Faith, and learned from her, the Goddess could live a human life at the same time. And so She did. She had turned Her back on humanity, for nearly two-thousand years, but when She decided to try to understand you again, She decided to live another human life. The Goddess would watch, to see how Faith coped with this sad, desperate world. And the Goddess would also be born Herself into the world, and live Her own life, at the same time Faith lived hers. This time, the Goddess would have two perspectives. And whenever She thought Her own human life was hard, She realized that Faith's life was harder."
"Wait a minute," Willow said. "Are you saying...the Goddess is alive, now, on Earth somewhere? That She's like, up in Heaven or whatever watching over Faith and learning from her but at the same time, She's also a human being, living a regular human life?"
"Yes," Rachel said.
"You mean...she's like in two places at once? She's all like up in Heaven with Her angels being the Goddess and watching Faith but She's also down here at the same time, being human?"
"Yes."
"She can do that? Be in two places at once? Be the Goddess up in Heaven, and a human being down here on Earth right now?"
"Yes."
"And in this human life...it's like it was the last time?" Willow said. "Like the way it was when She was Mary. She doesn't know She's the Goddess at all?"
"The Goddess can keep a secret, even from Herself," Rachel said...
And Willow felt the flower petals unfolding inside her again...
She felt like she was on the verge of something...like she was...expanding, somehow.
And she remembered...
Willow remembered talking to Annabelle in the courtyard.
Wanna know a secret? Willow had said.
Willow didn't remember the secret she had told Annabelle. For some reason, she had forgotten it. But she remembered what she said to Annabelle right after she told her...
But it's our secret, okay? Willow had said. You can't tell anyone. Not even me.
"Willow," Rachel said. "You are the Goddess."
"Yeah, I knew you'd still be alive," Willow said, as she stood hovering in the air above Loki, looking down at him again. Thor and Freyja were there with her.
Loki laid senseless half a mile from the fort, at the bottom of a steaming crater filled with molten lava, a quarter mile across. He got himself up.
"That was...rather impressive, I admit," Loki said. "But I haven't even defended myself yet." He looked up at her, and smiled. "Do you wonder what will happen if I do?"
"Willow," Thor said. "Please. Do not--"
"Shut the fuck up," Willow said, and waved her hand. Instantly, Thor and Freyja found themselves encased in spheres of some sort of black light.
Loki climbed out of the crater.
"We don't have to do this," Loki said. "If you would let me explain--"
"EXPLAIN?!" Willow screamed. "Explain how you let the girl I love be tortured?! Explain why you decided it was a good idea to let her be beaten and whipped and pissed on and almost hanged?! Is that what you want to EXPLAIN TO ME?!"
Loki's face went pale. He looked at Thor, still trapped in the black energy sphere Willow had encased him in. Thor no longer had his hammer...
Willow was holding Thor's hammer. Lifting it like it weighed nothing at all.
"How...how...did you do that?" Loki whispered. "It's...impossible."
"She's lying there DEAD!" Willow screamed, pointing back toward the fort with Thor's hammer. "The girl I love is dead! Her whole life, she was beaten and used and treated like shit. Then, because of you, she was kidnapped and tortured and almost killed! AND NOW SHE'S DEAD! SHE'S DEAD! But I just figured something out."
"SHUT UP!" Willow screamed.
Stormclouds returned to the sky, gathering directly over her head, seemingly in an instant.
"I figured out why the world never went back to the way it was supposed to be in 2009," Willow said. "It never went back, because I destroyed it. Here. Today."
"What?" Loki said. "What are you...?"
"The girl I love is dead, but I swear she's gonna take everyone with her. And she's gonna take the gods with her too, Loki. Every last fucking one of you. Today's your fucking Ragnarok, you piece of shit."
And then Willow smiled...a smile that made Loki's flesh crawl.
"Remember Rome?" Willow said. "All the fun we had? Time for our rematch. So gimme your best shot, lover."
Willow raised Thor's hammer, and the storm came. The wind suddenly howled with hurricane force, and thunder split the sky, and lightning raked straight down, focusing around the hammer, and lighting up the battlefield for miles all around...
But Willow's eyes were pure black, and the lightning didn't reflect in them...nothing did. There was nothing there save hate.
Loki was a god. He had a special insight, and he could discern things no human could ever see.
As Loki watched Willow now, as he watched the very lightning itself coalesce around her, formerly Thor's province, but now seemingly Willow's to command...as he looked into her hate-filled eyes...he could also see power flowing from her in waves. More power than she had ever shown before, more power than Loki had ever even seen in one place before...more power than even Odin himself...
Willow had effortlessly caged both Thor and Freyja. She had single-handedly destroyed an army of demons in an instant.
And now she held Thor's hammer, the greatest weapon ever forged...
And if she did mean to destroy the world now, Loki had no idea how he could stop her.
"Big Bad's back, baby," Willow said, and hurled Thor's hammer straight at him...