Okay, here's the thing.
Today is my brother's birthday, and I just found out we're going to Dreamworld in fifteen minutes.
Now, where this becomes a problem is that I was just about to post the latest chapter, but that normally takes at least an hour or two, what with writing replies and reformatting the update for the board.
However, since it's finished, I'll post the update now in it's largely unformatted state. I'll reformat it when I get home, whenever that is, and do feedback replies later.
Cheers, Kittens!
-----
And a good three days later ...
Title: At Any Cost
Author: Paul aka Darth Pacula
Distribution: Knock yourself out, just ask first. ( That means yes if you're not sure )
Feedback: Go nuts. The more the merrier. Unless you're all wanting to roast me at the stake that is. Then, less is more. My email address is
darthpacula@hotmail.com if you prefer.
Disclaimers: I own nothing from Buffy, Angel or any such associated franchise. Is that disclaimered enough? Is disclaimered even a word?
Summary: A powerful, ruthless and unstable figure begins to meddle in Willow and Tara's lives, with unforeseen consequences.
Rating: I think this update definately rates a hard R, once the violence gets underway.
Timeline: Well now, it starts off just before the end of Seeing Red, but will contain elements of an altered Season 7.
Spoilers: Err ... pretty much the entire show. If you haven't seen any of it yet, and actually want to, you just aren't trying hard enough.
Thoughts are in
italics.
Part 31.Willow blinked slowly as Tara's words penetrated her mind, leaving a maelstrom of thought swirling in their wake. “You said ... a protection spell? Tara, are you sure?”
Her lover didn't respond immediately, but Willow didn't expect Tara to do so. From what Buffy had related from her own experience with this spell, Willow imagined that Tara's perceptions were distorted, and not just visually. Buffy had told them that time itself had seemed a bit on the wacky side, as if everything seemed to take a few seconds longer than usual.
If I didn't know better, I might think Tara was stoned. Not that she would do the whole drug thing, and I don't really know what it looks like in real life anyway, just what I've seen on TV. Which okay, not so much a bastion of truth and accuracy, cuz just look at what they do with vampires! Less with the grr and more with the boohoo, I'm all immortal and lonely and misunderstood and broody which is so not accurate. Well, there's Angel of course, he's the poster boy for broody ...Tara's voice careened into the speeding train wreck of Willow's inner monologue and derailed it handily. “I think so, sweetie. It ... you look like you're wearing a suit of armor.”
Willow's eyebrows twitched upwards. “Armor?” she squeaked. “I'm all knighty?” Willow knew that what Tara was seeing was a metaphorical representation of the spell, an image that should reflect what the spell was attempting to achieve. But the idea of herself in armor was still surprising.
“You'd do the Knights of the Round table proud, Willow,” Tara assured her, and Willow inadvertently found herself puffing up proudly. At least until Tara continued. “If your armor wasn't broken, intangible and ... well ... physically non existent.”
“So what does this ... wait a minute,” Willow began as their earlier conversation began to replay in her head. “Um ... didn't you say something about Nameless spying on us earlier?”
Now it was Tara's turn to blink lazily, her eyes slightly unfocused. As those azure orbs focused on Willow once more, Tara slowly raised an arm, as though fighting against gravity, to point at a corner.
“There's an eye,” Tara stated, her voice thick and leaden. “I think ... I think he's been watching us.”
Willow blanched as she realized that the location Tara had indicated gave a bird's eye view of their bed. “You mean ... he's been ... we've ... that peeping tom!” Willow's stop-start exclamations gave way to the heat of righteous indignation. “He's been watching us when we ... ah ... when we ... you know, snuggle?”
A horrified blush of vivid mortification bloomed on Tara's face as Willow's implications penetrated the supernatural funk still clouding her head. Licking suddenly dry lips, Tara turned and moved towards the closed bedroom door.
“Tara! Where are you going?” blurted Willow in surprise. “We have to talk about this! He ... oh god! He could have been taping us! We could be porn! There could be a DVD out there of 'Lesbian Witches Gone Wild'! Staring us! You and me ... ya'know ... together?”
Tara half turned as she reached out and grasped the doorknob. “Sweetie, I need to see if there are any other ... eyes in the rest of the house. Besides, I don't think ...”
As Tara turned the doorknob, the door swept open and deposited three startled and guilty-looking figures at her feet. Tara took a step back, a combination of consternation and the spell leaving her looking awkward and mildly intoxicated. Willow's embarrassment level tripled, and she glared at them irritably, naming each with bitingly precise pronunciation.
“Buffy. Dawn.” Willow's voice paused for a beat as one eyebrow rose in disappointment. “Giles? You too?”
The flustered Englishman clambered to his feet, reaching for his glasses. Willow marched over and snatched the handkerchief from his hand before Giles could reach them, forcing him to forgo his usual tactic of pretending that he couldn't see them.
“Yes ... well, ah ... she made me do it,” stammered Giles, pointing his finger at Dawn. For her part, the teenager went from startled to indignant in record time. Meanwhile Willow continued to glare at Giles, and he soon realized the folly of trying to place blame on a young woman who was less than half his size. In desperation, Giles shifted his finger to point squarely at Buffy, and tried his luck again.
“She made me do it?”
“Oh sure, blame the girl with super powers!” complained Buffy sulkily.
**********
“Here?” asked Xander, fumbling sleepily at a corner of the lounge room roof. The discovery that the Summers' house was wired for sound on, as Buffy put it, the 'Nameless Candid Camera Show' had been deemed important enough to call both Xander and Anya back to Scooby HQ. Not to mention the pesky little detail of Nameless' little nighttime visits. Thus far, Katie was the only one to escape the call to action and be allowed to return to her interrupted sleep.
“I think ... a little more to the right?” Tara suggested, and Xander reached in the suggested direction, teetering a little on his precarious perch on the back of a couch.
“Aha!” Xander crowed in triumph as his fingers brushed against a small object that his eyes insisted wasn't there. “Got it!”
After a moments worth of scrabbling, Xander managed to pry the cloaked item loose. As soon as it came away from the wall, the air around the device shimmered like heat-haze on the horizon before revealing a metal ball with articulated, spider-like legs.
Xander juggled the magical construct from hand to hand, as if he were afraid to hold it in one hand for any length of time. Needless to say, it didn't do wonders for the dubious balance he possessed in his current position. With a strangled squawk, Xander pitched backwards, sending Nameless' device flying. Without pausing to think, Tara moved to brake her friend's fall, but the full weight of Xander's bulk proved more than she could handle, and they collapsed in a pile with a joint 'oof'.
Meanwhile, the errant device was snatched neatly out of the air by Buffy as she entered the room. “Loose something?” she asked wryly as she regarded the winded pair. “You'd better watch your hands, Xander. When it comes to Tara, Will's the possessive type.”
“Hey! I'm the one getting felt up here!” Xander protested, and Tara's face burned with embarrassment as they pulled apart.
“I didn't m.. mean to!” Tara blurted, pulling her hands back as if burned.
Hearing the stutter, and having a rough idea of what that meant, Xander immediately moved to reassure the blonde in his own special way. “Hey, I'm not complaining here, Tara. I never complain about being man-handled by a pretty lady.”
Tara just blushed deeper, and Buffy covered a grin.
“What's this about man-handling?” Willow interjected, her voice a combination of absent-mindedness and nervousness that was uniquely her. “Only I'm supposed to be handling Tara!”
Tara, Xander and Buffy redirected their attention to where Willow was ensconced in the dining room. The dining room table had been commandeered by Willow and Giles to aid in their study of the rest of Nameless' surveillance devices.
“Nothing to worry about, sweetie,” Tara assured her, frowning good naturedly at Xander and Buffy, who just grinned conspiratorially. They both knew Tara was playing along with them. “They're just making fun of me.”
“Would we do that?” Buffy asked innocently before breaking into a broad grin.
“Yes, you would,” Willow noted, doing her best to come off grumpy. The overall effect was hampered by the wry smile she wore, since she knew just as well as Tara that it was all spoken in jest. “So stop picking on my girlfriend before you all end up on a fly diet.”
“Can you actually do that?” Dawn asked as she stopped looking over Giles' shoulder. The teenager had been camped there for quite a while, asking a myriad of questions for which Giles had few answers, and he visibly relaxed as her attention was diverted away from him.
Willow noted this obvious relief as she turned to answers Dawn's question, and silently commiserated with Giles by waggling her eyebrows. Though Willow obviously thought her message had been quite eloquent, it left Giles utterly perplexed.
“Umm ... I kinda don't know, Dawnie,” admitted Willow. “I've never actually set out to try and turn anyone into a frog. Amy did turn herself into a rat I suppose, even if the reversal still had a few bugs in it , and ... ah well ... when I was ... you know ...”
“Out of control?” offered Dawn helpfully, and Willow winced at this blunt summary of one of the darker periods of her life.
“I think what Willow means is that while we might be able to do it, we never actually would,” Tara informed Dawn, slipping an arm around her lover's waist as she came to a grateful Willow's rescue.
Dawn frowned thoughtfully. “Why not?” she asked curiously. “I mean, I know why you don't go around frogging people left and right ...”
“Because she'd run away screaming because of frog fear?” Xander jovially suggested as he followed Tara into the dining room, and Willow swatted him on the shoulder.
“No,” Dawn drawled pointedly, “... well okay, maybe. But wouldn't it be a good idea for vamps and demons and so-on? You or Tara could frog them, and Buffy could ... I dunno, step on them.”
“Gee, thanks sis,” quipped Buffy. “Way to reduce my 'sacred calling' to stepping on stuff.” Dawn's only reply was a saccharine sweet smile.
Choosing to ignore the sister's jibes beyond giving them a genuine smile, Tara answered Dawn's question. “Honestly, Dawn? That kind of magic is pretty ... well, black, and every time you use it, it leaves ... sort of like a stain?”
“If we kept doing that sort of thing, sooner or later we'd end up like Nameless,” Willow added. “I don't know about you, but I don't fancy the idea of the whole .... 'bleh' look.” She punctuated her words with a series of highly animated facial expressions and accompanying hand gestures, her fingers wriggling like snakes across her cheeks.
The rest of the scoobies regarded her with bemusement, and Willow's movements gradually tapered off as she became aware of the weight of the gazes upon her. She flushed in embarrassment. “What?” she questioned anxiously.
Tara pulled Willow into a warm embrace as she laughed in delight and placed a loving kiss on the redhead's forehead. “Don't ever change, sweetie. Don't ever change.”
“You wouldn't prefer a suave sex-kitten instead of a babbling, goofy nerd?” Willow idly asked, wearing a suitably self-satisfied smile after enthusiastically kissing Tara back.
“To me, you're already a suave sex kitten, sweetie, just the way you are,” Tara murmured, her liquid gaze heated and her voice a sultry velvet purr.
Giles cleared his throat pointedly, and both women blushed slightly as they realized the other scoobies were watching them with obvious interest.
“It's times like this I wish I was profoundly deaf,” Giles muttered, the slight smile he wore belaying his words.
“Hey yeah!”, Xander chimed in, “I can just see Giles whipping out his hearing aid to give it a good polish!”
Her cheeks still crimson, Tara ducked her head as she took a seat beside her girlfriend. Despite her embarrassment, Tara still wore a happy grin. There was a series of loud metallic thumps as Buffy added her last handful of surveillance devices to the pile already on the table.
“Looks like Nameless had at least one of these in every room in the house,” Buffy noted grimly. “Who knows how long he's been watching, laughing behind our backs? And we don't even know how he got in here in the first place!”
“Through the front door, remember?” Dawn reminded her sister. “We found it unlocked.”
Scowling, Buffy glared at Dawn. “I know that! What we don't know is how he crossed Tara's barrier.”
Dawn shrugged carelessly. “Does it matter?” she countered. “We know he can get in, isn't that enough? We've seen him do his big disappearing act plenty of times, so he probably just teleported in or something.”
“No, Dawnie, I thought of that,” replied Tara with a shake of her head. “The spell would still have picked him up as he crossed the boundary, even if he was in the disembodied state of a teleportation.”
“Okay, so he found some other way to sneak in,” Dawn allowed with another shrug. “Again, does it matter how he gets in?”
“Dawn, if we find the loophole Nameless is exploiting, maybe we can block it up somehow, or trap it or something,” Willow explained, exchanging a hopeful glance with Tara.
“Oh,” Dawn mumbled, her face falling. “Yeah, I can see where could be a good idea.”
Buffy snorted in amusement, drawing a dirty look from her younger sister. “Yeah, it might save you from having to stand a watch at night.”
“Stand a what now?” Dawn blurted, aghast at Buffy's suggestion. “Did we get drafted into the army while I wasn't looking?”
Buffy drew herself up to her full height, arms folding across her chest in an unforgiving pose. “You could just go to sleep each night knowing that he could sneak in here at any time, and do who knows what to you while you sleep?” she asked scathingly. “The next thing you know, we could
all be pregnant. Even Xander and Giles!”
“Oh, I rather hope not,” Giles exclaimed. “That's one of the best things about being a man!”
Xander nodded fervently. “Amen, G-man! You're preaching to the choir here! The only stomach swelling I ever want to have to worry about is of the snack based variety.”
Tara's head popped up as she realized that amongst all the excitement, she'd forgotten to divulge one last discovery her spell had revealed. “Nameless didn't make Willow pregnant,” she blurted before Giles could unleash what had promised to be a scathing reply to Xander.
All eyes turned to Tara, but no-one was more shocked than Willow herself. “What?” she asked in a high-pitched, uncertain voice. “He didn't? Tara? What do you mean?”
“The ... the spell I cast?” Tara began nervously. “I saw a protection spell around you, a really powerful one ... but that was all. There was nothing else.”
Giles leaned forward in his seat, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Are you quite sure Tara?”
Tara nodded emphatically. “A spell like that ... to create a whole new life, from nothing? There's no way that wouldn't leave a trace. I couldn't see even the slightest trace of any spell other than the protection spell.”
“So how'd Willow get pregnant then?” Buffy asked, but she wryly answered her own question almost as soon as she'd finished asking it. “Let me guess? We don't have the faintest idea?”
“I'm afraid not,” Giles wearily allowed.
Sitting behind Willow, Anya had been silently watching the other scoobies with a calculating expression on her face. Pursing her lips, Anya nodded precisely as she came to a decision. “Willow?” she called out.
“Hmm?” murmured the redhead as she turned to face Anya.
WHACK!The sound of Anya's hand meeting Willow's cheek in a full bodied slap echoed through the room like a gunshot, and Willow's head snapped to one side with the force of the blow. For a brief handful of moments, the other scoobies stared at Anya in shock and disbelief, as Anya herself regarded Willow critically.
“Ahn!” exploded Xander incredulously. Tara might have beaten him to the punch, but Anya's actions had left her open-mouthed and lost for words. The blonde's furious eyes were another matter altogether; they spoke volumes, and few of those words were polite.
Her head turning back slowly, a livid red mark on her cheek, Willow's eyes shot daggers at her attacker. “What. The. Hell, Anya!” she angrily demanded. “That hurt!”
“What?” Anya nonchalantly replied. “I was testing the efficiency of this protection spell. It doesn't seem that powerful to me.”
“That's because it's broken! The spell was never finished!” Tara explained heatedly as she found her voice.
“Oh.“ Anya blinked, then shrugged. “Whoops?”
“Whoops?” Willow repeated in a dangerous tone of voice. “My face is all red and ouch-y, and all you can say is whoops!”
Anya looked like she was on the verge of issuing her own rejoinder, which, judging by both Willow and Tara's obviously antagonistic mood, wouldn't have been the smartest move. In the hopes of heading off another colossal argument at the metaphorical pass, Xander leapt headfirst into the conversational lull.
“So ... protection spell, huh? Does this make him on our side now? In a very strange, convoluted kind of way?”
“What?” snapped Willow, her blood still seething.
Gulping as the full force of the redhead's ire fell inadvertently on his shoulders, Xander forged bravely onward, with a sickly smile on his lips. “Well, sure it's massive invasion of privacy, and creepy on a Michael Jackson kinda level, but ... this means he's trying to protect you, right?”
“We've been over this, Xander,” Buffy grumbled, gesticulating wildly as if that could somehow emphasize her point. “It looks like Nameless is protecting at least some of us, but we don't know why. If he doesn't have some ... uber-evil ... ulterior motive, why do things this way? Why be stealth-guy?”
“Um ...” Willow mumbled, raising her hand.
Leaning in close, Tara whispered in her partner's ear. “Sweetie, you're not in class. You don't have to raise your hand.”
Flushing, Willow swiftly yanked her hand down, trying desperately to ignore the fact that she'd ever raised it. “Well ... remember that protection spell I tried to do for you in senior year, Buffy?”
“What, you mean the one you were doing in secret?” asked Buffy, her brow furrowing in thought. “Right before our mom's tried to burn us at the stake?”
“That's the one,” Willow acknowledged. “Remember how I said it had to be a secret, or it wouldn't work? Maybe ... this is a similar kind of thing? Nameless had to do his spell in secret, or it wouldn't work?”
Scowling, Buffy shrugged. “I see your point, Will, but ... I just can't bring myself to trust him. Every sense I have says Nameless is a bad guy to me, and I can't get past that. If it walks like a duck, and talks like a duck ...”
“Maybe it's a bunny?” Willow finished, shooting a snide glance at Anya.
“Oh, why did you have to say that?” Anya complained, shifting as though she wanted to check under her seat for any trace of the aforementioned rabbits.
“Why would you try to break my face?” countered Willow pugnaciously.
“Good grief,” mumbled Giles, dropping his head into his hands. “I'm going back to bed. Even that infernal sofa is better that listening to another speech about the inherent evilness of 'bunnies'.”
As the watcher dragged himself wearily to his feet, Dawn tugged on his arm. “What about Nameless' camera-type thingies? What do we do with them?”
The grin that crept across Buffy's face as she answered her sister's question wasn't entirely pleasant. “Oh, I've got an idea about that.”
**********
Stolen life force hummed through my veins, filling me once more with vigor. It appeared that draining the life from a living member of my own species provided more of a kick than preying upon demons. It was an interesting fact to know, if largely unusable. I couldn't rely on the handy presence of a suitably odious criminal every time I needed to quickly heal critical damage.
I suppose I could always prey on the innocent, I have done so in the past when necessary. But it always leaves a sour taste in my mouth, and another entry on my extensive list of nightmares. Whereas criminal scum like that rapist doesn't even give me pause. Once, it might have done, but it's surprising how quickly you can become inured to the prick of a guilty conscience.
Or maybe it's just a testament to how morally corrupt I have become. How corrupt I made myself.
It makes little difference. Guilty or innocent, I'm still a murderer, many times over. And so long as what I desire comes to be, I honestly couldn't give a damn about the price I, or anyone else has to pay. My will be done, at any cost.
Dismissing such musing from my mind, I limp down the stairs into my lair proper.
Past time I see how the scoobies have dealt with the aftermath of my visit. I do so hope they aren't bickering again. Amusing as it might have been to begin with, it is growing increasingly vexing. They never do their best work when they're fighting amongst each other.Approaching my crystal receiving array, I activated it with a wave and settled down on a stool to watch. What I found myself watching was ... well, I wasn't quite sure what it was. The image was dark and grimy, somehow contained, as if inside a cramped area.
“What the ...?” I muttered. “Is that ... is that the inside of an s-bend?” My face dropped as I realized what had happened. “They flushed my bugs down the toilet?”
**********
“Captain, sir?”
Isiah looked up from the map of Sunnydale he was perusing to find Sergeant Bixby standing before him, positively quivering to attention. A slight, cruel smirk stole across Isiah's face as he studied his subordinate. Leaning back indolently in his chair, he studied Bixby's patently blank expression, a hallmark of non-commissioned officers everywhere.
It was a petty cruelty compared to the type he normally preferred to inflict, but forcing Bixby to silently stand to attention for no other reason than for pure spite amused his demon no end. The fact that Bixby displayed no sign of emotion in the least, positive or negative, took a lot of the fun out of it. Seeing or hearing your victim's pain was half the fun.
“Yes, Sergeant?” he finally deigned to ask, waving one hand lazily in the air.
Bixby slipped into his 'at ease' posture, which was to say no less stiff, but with his hands placed marginally differently. “Our contact has gotten back to us, sir.”
“And ...”
“We're a go, sir,” Bixby announced with a triumphant sneer. “He says it'll cost us, though. What we're asking for isn't easy, according to him.”
Isiah leaned forward, his expression shifting like quicksilver from idle to focused. “He can do it though?”
“Aye, Captain,” confirmed Bixby with a nod. “He can't guarantee any degree of accuracy with his placement, but he can get all of them inside the house well enough.”
Isiah leaned backwards once more, steepling his fingers thoughtfully. “I'd prefer to have used my own lads for the assault, but that ruddy invitation requirement still gets in the way. Still, I suppose beggars can't be choosers. You're sure these demons you found are up to the job?”
“So long as the Slayer isn't there, they should be able to handle it neatly,” Bixby insisted. “After all, they're only humans.”
“Humans who will be dead by this time tomorrow night,” Isiah proclaimed with a wolfish grin.
**********
The next day passed with agonizing slowness. Even after their good natured bickering had subsided, and the scoobies had retreated back to their beds, sleep had proved elusive. For Tara and Willow at least. Tara couldn't speak for the others.
Xander and Anya had been 'volunteered' to stay the night and provide another set of bodies to help stand a watch. Willow had quickly whipped up a color-coded schedule that divided the night into two person watches, and just as quickly browbeat Buffy when she protested at Willow including herself on the schedule. That argument had lasted for less time than Giles could go for without cleaning his glasses when confronted by Anya and a frank discussion of her sex life.
In the end, Willow had consented to rearrange the schedule to give Tara and herself the final watch of the night, on the grounds that it would provide them with the longest stretch of uninterrupted sleep. At least, that was the theory. In practice, it didn't work as well when neither woman found it easy to fall asleep.
Despite their lack of sleep, almost the entire household had risen early. The sole exception was Xander, who somehow managed to remain sound asleep long into the morning, sprawled out in a lounge chair, snoring like a wood chipper. He only eventually woke up when Anya intentionally kicked him in the shin.
By general, if unvoiced consensus, everyone's normal daily routine was put aside for the day, excepting Katie and Dawn, who were sent to school. Dawn had grumbled the whole time that it was a waste of her natural talents, which hadn't even earned a raised eyebrow from her sister. Katie, on the other hand, had simply nodded quietly, her dark eyes solemn.
Tara had been growing increasingly worried about Katie lately. Granted, she hadn't known her for long, but Katie seemed to be growing ever more prone to moods that, if not exactly black, were definitely bleak. Every now and then, Katie displayed flashes of a bright and bubbly personality, but these moments were occurring less and less frequently.
She supposed that Katie's mood was most likely a result of the violent loss of her family. Tara knew that she and Willow would do their absolute best to be there for Katie, but it would never, could never, be the same. Katie had lost a great deal of her innocence, and it broke Tara's heart to know it.
While watching Katie that morning, Tara had been gripped by an iron determination to do everything in her power to make the world brighter for Katie, to make it once again a place of wonder and promise, not darkness, pain and loss.
That vow had to wait for the moment though, until the situation with both Nameless and Hawkins could be resolved, one way or the other.
That resolution was what each of the scoobies spent the day working towards. Willow and Tara had gone through the spell book they had acquired from Lickspittle with a fine tooth comb, looking for anything they could either turn against the warlock, or use to protect themselves. Willow had been delighted with their degree of success.
They now knew the same spell Nameless had used on Willow to deny her access to her magic, as well as how to defend themselves against it. They had also picked up quite a few other nifty little tricks that might come in handy.
Since Willow had been otherwise occupied, the role of computer research girl had fallen to Anya. The former demon had proved to be surprisingly adept at it too, even when it didn't involve online investment. Together with the reluctant assistance of Giles, Anya was searching for any sign of where Isiah Hawkins and his vampires might have made their lair.
Given that they knew that Hawkins had a great many vampires following him, that limited the number of places where they could make their lair. That many vampires couldn't just set up shop in one of the many crypts in Sunnydale as the smaller nests were liable to do.
While Giles and Anya pursued that avenue of investigation, to little success, Buffy and Xander had adopted a more physical method of searching, searching the usual haunts for any sign of recent vampire infestation. But when they returned, late that afternoon, the both of them were dirty, tired and had next to nothing to show for their efforts.
Dinner that evening proved to be a somber affair; even Xander seemed subdued by their continual lack of success at discovering anything of use. Even Willow and Tara had grown glum, the bright spark of their achievement gradually overwhelmed by the palpable air of defeat.
As the night progressed, most of the scoobies withdrew in on themselves, or in the case of the couples, paired off. Anya, for example, had suddenly bounded to her feet, grabbed Xander by the hand, and taken him off to the nearest corner for 'a good talking at'. Dawn had attempted to correct Anya's statement, but Anya's expression left no doubt that she'd said exactly what she'd meant to.
Either way, Tara was just glad to see her two friends making any effort at all to talk beyond trading insults. She didn't know if Xander and Anya could resolve the issues that stood between them, but Tara hoped that they could. That was all they could really do, though Willow had apparently toyed with other ideas. Tara hadn't got the full story, but from the light in her lover's eyes, she was sure Willow had starting scheming for a way to bring Xander and Anya back together. That was Willow's way, to alway search for a way to fix what she regarded as broken. Tara just hoped that, if necessary, she could take the edge off whatever goofy scheme her girlfriend came up with.
Buffy had abruptly announced her intention to resume her patrol schedule, and refused to be dissuaded. Dawn did manage to finagle a promise from her sister to not attempt to tackle Nameless all by herself again. Both Willow and Tara understood that Buffy needed to be doing something, even if it wasn't anything directly related to their current problem.
In an attempt to distract herself from worrying about Buffy, Dawn had corralled Katie into a game of Monopoly in the room they shared. Neither girl seemed especially interested in the game, but it was better than doing nothing but moping.
In an surprise decision, Giles had settled down in front of the television, rather than retiring with a book. In the end, he probably ended up entertaining himself more with his dryly sarcastic commentary on the sitcom he found himself watching than the show itself did.
With everyone else otherwise occupied, and the fact that they were supposed to be up early for their watch, Tara and Willow retired to bed early, only half an hour after Buffy departed. The fact that they had got little sleep the night before was also a contributing factor.
As they changed into their pajamas, the two women swapped idle smalltalk, neither one in the mood to discuss anything heavy or meaningful. They exchanged loving caresses too, brushing fingertips along each others arms and cheeks. Normally, such behavior might have been a precursor to heavy petting and everything else that normally led too, but the fact was that they were both too tired to want to do more than snuggle.
Well ... 'want to' might be too strong a term.
Standing at the foot of their bed, Tara captured Willow's hand in her own as the redhead was walking past and pulled her into an embrace.
“Hi, sweetie,” Tara whispered, her hands running up and down Willow's spine.
“Hi yourself,” Willow murmured back, leaning her forehead against Tara's. “Um ... did you want anything in particular, baby?”
Tara's lips curved in a satisfied smile. “Just what I have right now.” She leaned in to kiss her love on the lips, and both women's eyes began to drift shut. Which is when everything went wrong.
A loud chime rang through the air, and their eyes flared back open in a sudden panic. “Not again!” Willow gasped.
But the threat heralded by the sound of Tara's boundary spell being violated was not the one Willow and Tara expected. With a sudden pop of displaced air, their bedroom abruptly got a lot more crowded, as four separate figures materialized out of thin air.
Willow and Tara gaped at their uninvited guests, all of whom were clearly of non-human origin. Each demon rounded off at about seven feet tall, with almost triangular torso's that gave them tremendous breadth of shoulder. Their heads were elongated at the back into a point, with loose, thick tendrils of cartilage standing in for hair. Nor were the demons' faces the sort to invite warm, fuzzy feelings in humans; they looked disturbingly like human skulls stripped of concealing skin and flesh.
All of the demon's wore a variation on the same outfit, with brown homespun trousers and open-faced leather vests. Various trophy's of a gruesome nature hung from broad leather belts, and stubby, four fingered hands clutched a variety of cruel-edged weapons.
The demons staggered slightly as they adjusted to their new location, and as one, their skull like faces turned to face Willow and Tara. Cold, hard eyes like agate bored into them, making the witches' skin crawl.
“Um ... hi?” Willow offered weakly, venturing a nervous wave.
Lips curling back to reveal rows of razor-edged triangular teeth like those of a shark, the demons charged.
**********
I was seated cross-legged on the cold concrete floor, naked to the waist, when the alarm was tripped. The loss of my surveillance devices had thrown me into a cold rage, and denied a suitable target upon which to lose my ire, I had decided to try and meditate to regain my equilibrium. It hadn't been going well.
The alarm was now audible as well as visible, unlike the vampires' last attempt. That meant that whatever was causing this was already
inside the house, not just approaching it. Along with the color, this time a bright orange bleeding into arterial red, this told me it wasn't vampires.
How the hell did they get in? I snarled to myself as I scrambled to my feet.
Whoever, whatever they are, if they harm but a single hair on their heads ...**********
With a terrified shriek, Willow and Tara hurled themselves backwards as the nearest demon scythed a hook-bladed axe at their heads. Hitting the bed still clutching each other, they quickly rolled apart as the demon tried again, sweeping its weapon downwards this time. The axe's blade ripped the mattress apart and lodged in the bed frame, its owner growling in frustration.
“Run, Willow!” Tara yelped as she hit the floor. A quickly muttered incantation sent a jewelery box from a nearby dresser careening at a second demon's head, but the targeted demon simply batted it aside and lunged at her.
“Tara!” Willow screamed as she came to her own feet. She was vaguely aware of shouts, screams and various sounds of battle coming from elsewhere in the house, but Willow's attention was focused on the demon menacing her lover. There was no way that she would ever leave Tara to face them alone.
Reacting on instinct alone, Willow reached out and somehow 'shoved' at the demon with her magic. She wasn't quite sure what she'd done, but it proved effective enough, hurling the demon into the nearest wall with enough force to crack the plaster.
Unfortunately, with her attention diverted, Willow didn't notice the third demon grabbing at her until it was too late. Snatching a handful of Willow's hair in it's hand, the demon yanked her head back cruelly. Willow let out a yelp of pain as her concentration vanished like mist before a hot sun.
Tara tried to scrabble to her feet, but the last demon stepped in and hammered it's mace into Tara's vulnerable stomach. Doubling over in pain, the blonde lost her dinner in a scalding rush of vomit. An incoherent sound of anger and fear wrenched itself out of Willow's throat at the sight, and she twisted, trying to claw at her captor's face.
A four fingered hand slammed into the small of Willow's back, and her entire body spasmed with the pain, mouth hanging open, silent but for a gasp of agony. Unable to do more than twitch, Willow would have fallen to the floor if the demon hadn't caught her weight. Nor was she able to resist as the demon unsheathed a knife with a malicious, gurgling chuckle.
The demon brought the blade, the size of Willow's forearm, to the redheads throat. Willow tried to move, tried to fight, but she could barely raise her arms and her mind was too scattered to call the magic to her aid.
Tara looked up from her position on her hands and knees on the floor, and her eyes met Willow's as if they were the only things in the room. The demon with the mace raised it's weapon again in preparation to bring it down on Tara's unprotected, and all-too fragile skull.
Willow locked eyes with the love of her life, determined that if this was in fact the end, the last thing she would see would be Tara. She didn't want it to be the end, she'd never want that. She wanted to grow old and wrinkly with Tara. There was still so much that she wanted to do, to see, to share with the woman who made her soul soar. And if she could just move, she'd do everything in her power to see her vision of their future come true.
A sharp, pricking pain in her neck preceded the warmth of a trickle of blood as it ran down her neck. Willow felt a howl building inside her, low in her chest, in protest at the sheer unfairness of it all, the casual uncaring cruelty of fate.
The demon's grip on the knife at her throat shifted in preparation to slice open tender flesh, and Willow tried to put every once of her love for Tara into her eyes, to say farewell.
Tara's warning spell sounded once again, and Willow felt despair claw at her. What now?
The demon who held the knife at Willow's throat abruptly shuddered, and Willow dropped to the floor as the arms holding her went suddenly slack. The knife slipped from out of nerveless fingers, and buried its tip in the floor by Willow's feet.
A crackling roar preceded a concentrated bolt of lightning over Willow's head to strike the demon menacing Tara full in it's skull-like face. Skin, flesh and eyes were vaporized in a heartbeat beneath the onslaught before the still-standing corpse was hurled backwards.
Twisting her head with what seemed to be infuriating slowness, Willow looked up and back in time to see the body of the demon that had attacked her lift off the ground. Her eyes traveled further back, and found Nameless, his scarred face contorted into an expression of incandescent rage. For some reason, he was dressed in only a ratty pair of jeans. The full length of three taloned fingers of the warlock's bone hand were buried inside the back of the demon's skull, keeping the corpse aloft like a coat rack.
With a bellow, the first demon abandoned its axe, still embedded in the frame of Willow and Tara's bed, and rounded on both Willow and the warlock. It bellowed again, this time an incomprehensible war cry in some demonic tongue. Nameless answered the challenge with a bolt of lightning that darted through the demon's open mouth and blew the top of it's head clean off.
The last demon, the one Willow had fended away from Tara finally regained its feet, and charged, a bared short sword gripped in each hand. Nameless tossed aside the twitching corpse of his first victim, and silently rushed to meet the challenge half way, claws held out wide and low.
The two combatants came together like ancient warriors from days long since passed. Sweeping both it's blades in at once from either side, the demon sought to cleave the warlock's head from his shoulders. Nameless ducked the dual blows easily, and lashed out with both claws, back and forth, ripping the demon's torso into a red ruin.
As the demon howled in agony, the wound sagged open under the weight of internal organs, and a mass of rope like intestines slithered out like snakes. Straightening, Nameless twisted his wrists inward, flicking a claw out to almost delicately slash the tendons on the inside of each of the demon's elbows.
Blood that was black and thick as treacle dribbled from one corner of the demon's mouth as it sagged to its knees with a disbelieving expression. With a brutal, callous twist of his lips, Nameless ripped out the demon's throat with a right cross, and it's blood sprayed clear up to the ceiling before the demon toppled to the ground.
Nameless stood over his fallen foe, naked chest heaving, more from some sort of atavistic elation than from exertion. Liberally splattered with demon blood, and with each rib clearly visible, he painted the picture of a murderous victim of a great famine.
But right now, Willow wasn't overly concerned with the warlock. All she wanted to do, all she
needed to do, was reach Tara. The blonde witch obviously shared Willow's need, and she also met Willow half way, albeit with less violent consequences than Nameless and the demon.
They fell into a tight embrace, their bodies melding together in a way that confirmed they had always been meant to be together. There was no kissing, not yet, for having come so close to losing each other, all either woman needed was to be held, and in doing so confirm that they were both alive.
“I can't leave you two alone for a second, can I?” Nameless snarled, spitting the words at both women with viperous intensity. He might have continued further, but the drum of rapidly approaching footsteps pulled Nameless' attention towards the door.
A further trio of demon's, dressed and armed similarly to the first four, appeared in the doorway, and Nameless reared backwards, his scrawny, scarred and tattooed chest inflating as he dragged in an impressive mouthful of air. The demons lunged forwards, and Nameless leaned forwards, expelling his held breath.
What jetted from his mouth in a plume of thick, swirling, corrosive-green fog was decidedly not the air he'd breathed in. It didn't behave in the natural way for a gaseous substance either. Instead of spreading out as you might expect it to do, the fog instead remained firmly in a tear-drop shape, with Nameless at the tip, and the rounded bottom at the door.
Whether or not they knew any better, the demons charged headlong into the mist. Their momentum carried them forward for a few more steps before they began staggering, clutching at their throats and audibly wheezing. One by one, each of the demon's dropped to their knees, then fell to the floor. None of them ever made a noise, not even when their exposed flesh began to run like melting wax.
Willow looked away with a rush, bile pushing at the back of her throat. These demons ... whatever or whoever they were, had attacked Tara, and in Willow's book that was a capital crime. She'd happily have chopped them all to bits, or more accurately, let Buffy chop them all to bits, but what Nameless was doing was inhuman.
The sound of Nameless' exhalations finally tapered off, and Willow cautiously looked back, just catching glimpse of the fog somehow billowing in upon itself until there was nothing left. The sight of what was left of the demons nearly cost Willow her dinner.
Nameless quickly limped forward, radiating fury and tension with every movement, and the head of one the demons that had been enveloped by the fog splattered beneath his foot like a piece of overripe fruit. Willow gagged at the sight, and worse still, the sound that action inflicted upon her.
“Please, do try and keep yourselves out of mortal peril while I'm otherwise engaged, will you?” asked Nameless as he stalked away, his voice drifting over his shoulder. Before Willow could even think of responding, the warlock flicked his wrist carelessly, and a shimmering barrier audibly popped into existence, blocking the doorway.
In truth, Willow didn't know whether to be angry or relieved.
**********
The next demon I encountered was on it's own, repeatedly shoulder barging the door to Dawn's bedroom. With each blow, the door came closer and closer to caving in, and from the series of feminine shrieks coming from inside, Dawn recognized that fact as well I did.
It was so caught up in it's assault that the demon that it didn't notice me approaching, and it roared triumphantly as the door burst off it's hinges. Dawn screamed as she leapt backwards; apparently she'd been trying to brace the door herself, with little success.
I lunged with one hand as the demon started forwards, catching it by the face and dragging it backwards. Startled, the demon didn't get a chance to put up more than a token resistance before I slammed the back of it's head into the corridor wall opposite with all my might. I heard something crack in my opponent's skull, and as I pulled it back, a black smear of blood was left on the wall.
There seemed to still be a little life left in the bastard yet, so I hammered the demon's head into the wall a couple of more times, then shoved a talon in it's ear for good measure. I felt the demon go limp then, and dropped it like a sack of potatoes.
When I turned around, the Slayer's little sister was regarding me as if I'd tried to hump her leg rather than having just saved her life. Some people might have been offended by such ingratitude, but it actually amused me no end.
Katie, on the other hand, seemed genuinely happy to see me, and actually gave me a little wave in greeting. I found myself returning it before I was even aware I was moving, and Dawn just looked even more suspicious.
“Play nice, ladies,” I ordered, re-sealing the broken door with a barrier spell.
Dawn shouted something after me as I turned on my heel and limped towards the stairs; knowing her, I assumed it was a complaint of some kind and ignored her out of hand. When it came to Dawn Summers, the ability to tune the superfluous crap out of a conversation was a handy ability to have.
As I reached the head of the stairs, yet another demon was halfway up the stairs and closing fast. Spotting me, the demon voiced a guttural war cry and charged faster still. Lightning flared from both of my hands, and sparks danced the length and breadth of the demon's spasming body. I kept up the barrage as I took the first few steps down, my gait awkward from my damaged knee. When I let the lightning die down, the demon flopped bonelessly, it's corpse slithering down the stairs.
There was another demon already at the foot of the stairs, but someone had already saved me the trouble of killing it. A quick glance at the gaping wound in it's skull told me all I needed to know. Axe.
A strangled shout pulled my attention to one side, where Rupert Giles lay pinned against the dining room table. The watcher's back was flat against the table, his legs hanging off the end and flailing in a furious attempt to gain traction. I could only assume that it was Ripper's own axe his demonic attacker had pressed under the watcher's chin, giving the attempt to throttle Giles that 'good old college try'.
Tut tut, Ripper, I silently chided in my head, wearing a snide smirk.
How very sloppy of you. Just imagine how embarrassed you'd be if you were killed by your own weapon. Still ... I suppose I'd better help.It was my own turn to be embarrassed now, as a second demon grabbed me from behind, arms like steel bands wrapping around my chest. My ribs creaked in an alarming fashion as the demon squeezed, with the apparent intention of crushing me like a empty coke can. Since I didn't overly care for that idea, I resolved to act to prevent such an occurrence.
As good old Sandra Bullock once said ... SING! I drove one elbow hard into my attacker's torso, but the demon just grunted.
Of course, it's not quite so effective with a creature that doesn't have a solar plexus ...Even though my attack had garnered me exactly sod all of use, the demon apparently took my efforts poorly, because it leaned forward and bit off my left ear. Blood ran down the side of my head, warm and wet.
Needless to say, I made my displeasure vocally evident. “You Mike Tyson wannabe bastard!” I bellowed, simultaneously slamming a foot down on the demon's instep, and driving my head sharply backwards. Something crunched in the demon's face, and it's grasp slackened enough for me to wriggle free and drop to my knees, taking the opportunity to rake it's legs with my talons as I did so.
Spinning, I came back up, ripping my claws through the demon's groin, hoping for a artery but only finding meat and bone. My savaged ear pulsed a fresh gout of blood down my face, and my vision went crimson with rage. Lashing out with blinding speed, I literally tore the demon's face clean off.
“Ha!” I crowed in maniacal triumph, shaking my gory trophy in ... well, it wasn't the demon's face per say, because I'd just ripped it off. “I've got your face! Who's laughing now, huh funny boy?”
A wet gurgle was the demon's only comeback before it collapsed.
Turning back to Giles, I found him beginning to turn an interesting shade of purple. A Giles brain damaged from lack of oxygen might be less stuffy, but he'd be of less use overall, so I figured I'd better stop screwing around and save the wretched bastard.
Grabbing the demon by a handful of it's head tendrils, I pulled it back from the watcher and severed it's spinal column with a quick slash. As it bleated in pathetic surprise, I hurled the now-paralyzed demon backwards. An errant coffee table shattered beneath it's bulk, and one of the broken legs impaled the demon through the chest.
Whoops, I thought.
Xander's going to be pissed over that. On the plus side though, that was convenient. If not nearly as much fun as doing it myself would have been.Giles was gasping and spluttering like a fish out of water, but his face was returning to it's normal pigmentation, so I figured he was well enough for now. The sounds of strife called to me from the kitchen now, and through the door I could see Xander and Anya struggling with yet another of the demons.
When I say struggling, I meant that the demon had it's hands wrapped around Harris' throat, and Anyanka was hanging on it's back, shrieking and raining down blows with a small fry pan. A second demon lay dead face down on the floor, any number of kitchen knives sticking out of the back of it's head.
I suppose this pair isn't quite as useless as they look.
Stalking in, I plucked Anya off the demon's back and tossed her aside, heedless of her indignant squawk. For it's part, the demon was so intent on throttling Harris that I don't think it even noticed the difference. Nor did it notice me, until I politely tapped it on the shoulder.
Turning it's head, the demon blinked in surprise, and I idly noted that it's eyelids worked on a ninety degree angle to those of a human. Xander eyed me beseechingly, and I gave them both a sweet, utterly false smile. Then I shattered the demon's jaw.
Dropping Xander, the demon staggered backwards, blood dripping from it's mouth. Playing with it now, I hammered another blow into the demon's face that sent it careening into the wall. Shaking it's head groggily, the demon glared at me, roared something incoherent in a demon tongue with which I was unfamiliar, and charged.
I waited until the last moment to spin out of the demon's path, swinging one arm straight-edged at it's head. The demon's own momentum did the rest of the work, and the demon spun 270 degrees in mid air before it crashed back to the ground.
Leaning over the felled demon, I smiled at it mockingly. “Whoopsie. Did I do that?” I asked in a childlike tone. “How very impolite of me.”
My faux apologetic facade vanished in the blink of an eye, and I drove a pile-driver of a kick into the side of it's head. Raising one foot in the air, I stamped it down on the demon's chest. “
WHAT! DO! YOU! THINK! YOU'RE! DOING!” I howled, punctuating each word with another stomp of my foot.
Forcing myself backwards, I shuddered, chest heaving with the intensity of my rage. All my senses told me this was the last demon, and I didn't want it dead yet. Not until I had a chance to ask it a few ... friendly questions. My quivering lips were drawn back in an uncontrolled rictus, and my face twitched as I tried to bring myself back under a modicum of control.
Xander, Anya, and eventually Giles regarded me cautiously as I slowly regained control of my emotions, much akin to the manner in which people look at a ticking bomb. To be fair to them, the metaphor is a fairly apt one.
Finally, I forced the rage back inside me to swirl and churn in frustration at being denied release, and my face slipped back into it's cold, emotionless mask. As I lurched forward, the watching scoobies visibly flinched, and I nearly giggled at the sight.
They sagged with apparent relief when I grabbed the last demon by the throat and hoisted it into the air. “Now then, my demonic friend, you're going to tell me exactly where I can find Isiah Hawkins,” I snarled malevolently. “Yes?”
Though it glared at me, the demon apparently realized it was outclassed, outnumbered and pretty much screwed no matter how it looked at the situation, and nodded reluctantly. I smiled the smile of a predator, and gestured for the demon to begin. Then, as it opened it's mouth, there was a meaty 'thunk', and the demon shuddered, and went limp in my grasp.
With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I moved the demon so that I could see the back of it's head. What I found was a wooden stake embedded in the back of the demon's head. My eyes flicked back towards the front door, and found Buffy Summers standing there in a combat pose.
I stared silently at the Slayer for a moment, and she did likewise, no doubt waiting for some clichéd villainous boast or threat. I decided to go with my feelings.
“You bloody little idiot!” I furiously growled, tossing aside the corpse contemptuously. “Do you just sit around all day, dreaming up ways to become an even bigger pain in my ass?”
“Hey, I try my best, Nate,” Buffy quipped, placing sneering emphasis on the name. “My job's not especially taxing on the brain power front, so I've got plenty of time to come up with ideas.”
“Before it came down with a distinct case of having a stake jammed in the back of it's head, that demon was about to tell me where Hawkins is hiding his damn lair!”
“What, so you two can join forces?” countered Buffy. “I don't think so!”
My mouth actually dropped open at the sheer stupidity of Buffy's statement. “Join forces? No, I want to find Hawkins so that I can eviscerate the pox-ridden bastard!” I shifted my focus to each of the other scoobies in turn. “Is it just me, or is she getting stupider? Honestly, has your hair actually taken root in your brain?”
“Hey!” the Slayer protested, starting forward combatively.
I jabbed a warning finger in her direction. “Do you want me to kick your ass again, you irritating little imbecile?”
Buffy's lips narrowed dangerously. “I'm still alive. That's the first rule of slaying.”
I made a contemptuous yapping motion with one hand. “Blah, blah, blah,” I sneered. “You're still alive because I
haven't been trying to kill you!”
“Pretty big words from the guy who was Kentucky Fried Curmudgeon just last night!”
Spreading my arms wide, I bowed with an elaborate flourish and a mocking smirk. “As you can see, I got better. Sucking the life out of a wannabe rapist has a tendency to do that.”
“You what?”
“Ahh, deaf as well as stupid,” I noted, twisting my lips into a knowing smile. Buffy visibly bristled at the insult, as I knew she would. That was the good thing about this Slayer, she was so righteous and riddled with insecurity that it was relatively simple to manipulate her. Show yourself to her as a villain, and that's what you were to her.
In her work, a Slayer needed that sense of black and white, that sense of absolute moral certainty. Without it, she could be crippled with doubt, and unable to do what she must. Buffy existed in one of the grayest worlds of all the Slayers, but she still saw most things in black and white. As such, so long as I proported myself in a certain way, I could rely on her to oppose me.
Be that as it may, Buffy looked like she was rapidly reaching her breaking point. If I pushed her much more, she might snap and attack me. Fun as it might be to smack her down again, I didn't care to waste the time. Since I had lost this opportunity to track down Isiah, I had to find another. And I wouldn't find it here, not now.
So I blew the Slayer and her friends a kiss. “So sorry, but I'm afraid I must dash. Places to go, people to kill, that kind of thing.”
And even as I was vanishing, I flipped Buffy off, just to see the expression on her face.
To be continued ...
That’s right: In order to make this event LESS popular, the female activists take off their tops and jog in front of onlookers. - Scott Adams, regarding the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona.
Not to mention the nasty smelly demon hiding in the background. Granted the food-excuse is probably not the best avenue to explain the smell... what if Willow and Tara would have wanted a taste? 
evil laughts) ... you get my point. 
well, that comes in the BigBad cliché pack too so. Rambling endlessly till you enemies pass out. That's it.
)
But I'm not a big fan of murder either. 
This is so deep wow your mind is just wow more soon please 
about the quote. Don't you just hate it when that happens?
) I haven't really seen Hercules available down here in Oz.
Well, if it isn't my favorite tall lesbian with a great rack! Welcome back, stranger! 
You see, that's the thing I missed most about your feedback, Mary. You just crack me up.