New Fic: Darkness Falls

[weathergrrl]

Hooray Kris and DF are back! Thank you for the lovely update. So intense. That's what I love about this fic.



Eagerly awaiting the next installment.



weathergrrl

[KrisBo5]

Linda, well, I did make it back safely, thanks. Got stuck in Paris overnight but oh well. Another day's pay, so it's not all bad, eh? Hope to be updating soon, as soon as I'm readjusted to California time. Hehehe!



weathergrrl, thank you for your well-wishes. Glad you enjoyed the update. And, hopefully the next update won't take so long. Hope you keep reading!



Kris

"Frell that!"

[KrisBo5]

So, Kittens, at last another part in this neverending saga. It's been forever and my apologies go out to you all for the lengthy delay. No excuses really, just the same ole, same ole-- real life, obssessive-compulsive writing disorder, you know, the usual. Anyway, this part is really, really long, kinda graphic, pretty angsty and dark, and is pretty much a downer. Lots going on, and not all of it nice, but it will get the story, and more importantly, the characters where I need them to be emotionally, physically, and mentally for the rest of the story. You are all forewarned.

Again, I have put in a little Table of Contents, if you want to go back and refresh yourself with the general plot and such.

Darkness Falls. . . on the following pages:



Pg. 1: Prologue

Pg. 4: Part One: Descent(A)

Pg. 6: Part One: Descent(B)

Pg. 13: Part One: Descent(C)

Pg. 21: Part Two: Maelstrom(A)

Pg. 27: Smutus Interruptus, Part 1

Pg. 30: Smutus Interruptus, Part 2

Pg. 32: Part Two: Maelstrom(1B)

Pg. 34: Part Two: Maelstrom(2B)

Pg. 36: Part Two: Maelstrom(1C)

Pg. 41: 'Preview' Part Two: Maelstrom(2C)

Pg. 48: Part Two: Maelstrom(2C)

Pg. 77: Part Three: Undone(A)

If you can-- and I really hope you do-- enjoy!



Title: Darkness Falls

Author: KrisBo5 (Kris, obviously)

Email address: KrisBo5@aol.com

Feedback: Sure, I'd love it.

Distribution: This story is the narrative form of four spec scripts I have written for BVS, each of which is registered with the WGAw, so please don't publish it or reproduce it in any way, shape, or form. If for some reason you'd like to, just ask first. It's the polite thing to do.

Spoilers: Season 6, "Entropy" and "Seeing Red" episodes. Everything else? Blame on me.

Rating: The story in its entirety: PG-13 to NC–17. This includes sex, violence, language.

Pairing: Willow and Tara, that goes without saying. However, Buffy and the others are here as well.

Disclaimer: I didn't create these characters, those kudos belong to Joss and crew. I'm just borrowing them for the story I did write.

Summary: The mythology surrounding the creation of the first Slayer(sounds like a Buffy story, but have no fear, this is all about Willow and Tara).

Note:





Darkness Falls, Part Three: Undone(B)



"Profound joy is remembering; profound grief, the same." Clive Barker, Weaveworld





Buffy drove. Willow sat beside her in the front passenger seat, Xander and Dawn in back. No one spoke, the silence inside the vehicle a cacophanous thunder around them. Buffy hazarded a glance at Willow; her best friend sat ramrod straight in her seat, hands laced together in her lap, her eyes cast downwards. Buffy would have thought she was asleep, if her eyes had been closed; that she was meditating, if she had been relaxed. But, Willow was doing neither, and it left The Slayer with only one other possibility: the calm before the storm.



"Hey," Xander said from the back, flexing his grip on the axe laying across his knee. "Color me obtuse, but can I just ask: why Main Street?" Buffy glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "It hasn't really been of the good for us down there." He cleared his throat, not wanting to go into too many details. "Maybe we shouldn't push it."



Buffy opened her mouth to answer, but Dawn beat her to the punch. "The sun sets in the west, right?"



Buffy and Xander both glanced at the teen, certain she had taken leave of her faculties. Willow merely shifted her eyes from her lap to the central armrest. "What?" Buffy asked.



Dawn leaned forward, pushing her arm between the two women, pointing a finger at the front windshield. "What. Is. That?"



Buffy and Xander followed the teen's pointing digit.



Plainly visible from blocks away, rising above the rooftops of downtown Main Street, the sun clearly was setting. . . in the east. Brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows colored the night sky, illuminating the heavens in a surreal, artificial daylight. Billows of black smoke funneled skyward, spreading out over the night like a blanket.



"What. . . the. . . fuck. . ." Xander said, his tone a mixture of awe and terror.



Willow at last looked up, pulled from her thoughts. Her eyes took in the images, but her mind seemed to not want to process it fully. That's-- that's not the sun. . . .



"Oh, Jesus," Buffy whispered, unconsciously slowing the Jeep.



"Is that. . . ?" Dawn began, her eyes wide.



"It was so dark. And then we were walking on Main Street."[/ i]



"Main Street," Willow said, her voice barely above a whisper.



Buffy glanced at Willow quickly, then her eyes darted to the rearview mirror, finding Xander. "Still obtuse?" She watched him swallow hard, almost blanching at her question, then she returned her gaze to the view before them.



"Should we-- I mean, are you sure we should go there?" Dawn asked, her attempts at masquerading her fear not entirely successful.



Buffy looked at her best friend. "Willow?"



"The town was on fire. Main Street. People, cars, buildings. The Magic Sh



Willow stared silently out the window. Buffy shifted in her seat to face her more fully. "Willow."



"Willow was there with me then."



Willow pulled her gaze away, looking at Buffy directly. "I'm sure." Tara, Baby, we're coming. . . I'm coming. I will find you.



Buffy turned her attention to driving once more, nodding imperceptably. "Okay," she whispered, taking a slow, calming breath; then she started the Jeep on its path again. "Everyone-- lock and load," she said firmly, turning the last corner that would take them into Downtown.



Into Main Street.



Into the fire.



***



Tara stood back from the dressing room mirror, silently taking in her appearance. She absently dusted off the shoulders of the mid-calf, black leather jacket she modeled, turning sideways to view her profile. Facing forward again, she pulled the jacket together, fastening the delicately shaped silver buttons. Once more she turned to the side, then completely around, craning her neck to look over her shoulder at her reflection. Yes. . . this is nice. . . . Taking a deep, satisfied breath, Tara unbuttoned the jacket and slipped it from her shoulders. Carefully she placed the garment back on its hanger then walked towards the front of the store; winding through several displays, she stopped next to the cash register. She folded the jacket and laid it on the counter, on top of several other items of clothing, once again rubbing her hands over the soft material.



"I love you, too, Tara."



Tara turned quickly, her eyes scanning the department store. Her heart pounded loudly, her breathing quick and uneven. But she was alone, the store completely empty save for her.



"I love you, too, Tara."



Tara closed her eyes tight, taking a deep, evening breath. Stop. . . . A swirl of red, green the color of emeralds, soft, warm caresses-- the images flashed in her mind. She covered her eyes with one hand, pressing her fingers almost painfully into them, trying to force the pictures from her thoughts. . . . just stop.



Suddenly, a woman's scream-- loud and blood-curdling-- split the silence around her. What the-- Tara spun, dropping her hand and opening her eyes, looking towards the front window of the store. Her heartbeat seemed to pick up an even more irregular, chaotic beat. She took a tentative step away from the counter, and the scream came again. A shrill, piercing sound, which to anyone's ears could mean only one thing: death. No. . . . Tara moved across the floor at a quickened pace, coming to a stop at the front door. She pressed her hands against the glass, her eyes unblinking. . . helpless. . . mesmerized.



***



Hell on Earth.



Main Street was Hell on Earth.



Before they had even made their turn there . . .



. . . they could feel it.



. . . they could hear it.



What had merely looked like the sunset from a distance, now looked like some ghastly incarnation from Dante's 'Inferno.' Still a block away, they could see the flames climbing into the night, columning above rooftops and billboards, malevolent leeches masticating everything in their path. Black and white smoke rose above it all, meeting and melding, draping the sky, casting an eerie, orange-yellow incandescence across the heavens. Sounds swelled up around them, a continuous, deafening howling roar. It bellowed, thunderous and violent, swirling in the fire-blown air outside the car, rattling and shaking the vehicle, even at their distance. Other sounds, decipherable even through the din, punctuated the air around them: wood cracking, glass shattering, brick and mortor collapsing, each and every noise heralding the monstrous intensity of destruction awaiting their arrival.



Dawn leaned against the door, eyes widening as she looked upon the vast fiery blazes engulfing the tops of buildings in her eyeline; without noticing, she raised a hand to her window, drawing it back quickly. "God! It's hot."



Buffy glanced in the mirror. "Get away from it!" she ordered the teen brusquely. Before dropping her gaze, she watched Dawn slide towards the middle of the back seat, closer to Xander.



Everyone was silent, then, incapacitated by fear and indecision, as the wind and fire gusted in the air around them. An explosion of glass behind them, followed immediately by the high-pitched, deafening shriek of a woman, shattered their hesitation. Everyone whipsawed in their seats, craning their bodies and eyes towards the back window of the Jeep, watching horrified as a body landed on the sidewalk several feet behind them, window glass cascading down around the prone form.



"Oh, my God," Xander whispered, still unmoving.



Two figures appeared in the window. Willow's eyes were drawn there instantly. Jesus. . . . They were monstrous, hideous walking deformities, their bodies misshapened and twisted upon themselves. The tungsten-colored skin was covered head-to-foot by body piercings, if they could be called that; shanks of sterling metal, shards of glass, and some kind of tannish-white, plastic-looking fragments punctured and protruded from the flesh. In that split instant, Willow seemed to focus on one of those tannish-white, plastic-looking 'things,' her mind barely processing recognition. . . bones. . . before the words tumbled from her trembling lips. "B-Bones," she said, one hand gripping the side of her seat.



One of the 'monsters' jumped down from the window ledge, it's body shifting on itself in an ungodly manner as gravity asserted itself. The other stayed put, but raised a arm up in front of it's face. In it's hand it held a small, burning torch of some kind. In the second it took for The Scoobies to think they were about to see another building 'go up in flames,' Willow screamed. "No! No, no, don't! Stop!"



The 'thing' threw it's arm forward, hurling the flame at the woman. In a blinding whoosh, the woman was set ablaze, flames engulfing the body completely. The woman screamed again, thrashing bac-and-forth on the ground until she somehow managed to get to her feet. Before their eyes, they watched as the woman began running. . . towards them. . . her arms flailing desperately, her shrieks of pain and horror splitting the air.



Dawn screamed.



The monsters sprinted after her, the wails from their grisly mouths sounding like hysterical laughter.



Dawn screamed again as the woman ran past her window.



Xander's hold on the axe wavered as he reached out to yank Dawn more firmly against him, away from the door. "Holy shit !"



An image -- a name -- flashed in Willow's mind as she stared helplessly at the gruesome spectacle playing out before her. Something Xander had showed her once, once a long time ago when they were kids. Something from his make-believe comic book universe: The Human Torch. She couldn't stop the picture from invading her mind, the absolute absurdity and fairytale nature of that combustible superhero trying to override the actuality of these horrible events. But this-- this was not make-believe. This universe-- their universe-- was all-too real. Willow pressed both hands against her window helplessly, tears filling from her eyes. No. . . please. . . please. . . help. . . .



The woman continued to scream as she ran past them, the immense flames engulfing her body trailing behind her like some grotesque veil or cape. The two monsters were dead on her heels, screeching at her, taunting her.



"Mother. . ." Buffy hissed, her breath a low, hard whisper. She threw open her door, grabbing a sword in one hand while reaching under her seat with the other. As her feet hit the pavement, her arm drew out a small fire extinguisher from beneath her seat. ". . . fuckers!"



"No!" Dawn screamed, as The Slayer moved from the car, weapons-ready.



And then, Buffy was gone.



"Buffy! Wait!" Xander yelled, all too-late to do any good. His eyes moved to Willow, just in time to see the redhead raising Buffy's short sword in her hand and kicking open her own door, ready to join The Slayer in her pursuit.



"Willow, no!" Xander yelled, again to no avail. "Son. Of. A. BITCH!" He pushed open his door, grabbing his axe in one hand and Dawn's wrist in the other. He slid quickly from his seat, dragging the teen close behind him; as she slid out the door, Dawn reached down and snatched up the crossbow from the floor, hauling it in close to her body.



***

[KrisBo5]

Buffy rounded the corner onto Main Street in a dead run, her eyes taking in none of the goings-on of her surroundings; her Slayer senses were targeting two things, and two things only: killing the monsters, saving the woman. Almost thirty feet up the block, she saw them; the monsters danced and cackled over the flailing, burning body on the sidewalk.



"MOTHER FUCKERS!" Buffy screamed as she raised the sword high in her right hand. The 'thing' closest to her stopped his macabre celebration and turned, barely registering The Slayer's presence-- or threat-- before the gleaming silver blade arced downward and sliced clean through its neck, severing its head from its body. Buffy's momentum, fueled by her indignation and revulsion, carried her past the still-standing, decapitated corpse of 'thing 1' into her next intended victim.



***



Willow bolted full-bore onto Main Street, just seconds behind Buffy; with her small sword held tight in both hands, she prepared herself to meet any oncoming demons. But, no matter how 'prepared' she thought she was, Willow was in no way 'ready' for the apocalyptic sights she did find there. My God. . . .



What Main Street should look like, what she knew of it, was becoming no more. Before her eyes, she could see up the street-- the buildings, the cars, the billboards, even the street itself-- all of it was on fire. Burning. Completely burning. Flames soared Heavenward, licking the night sky, turning dark to light with their heat and color.



Sounds of destruction blared around her, ebbing and waning in intensity, rolling continually up and down the street. Bricks and cement and stones from Downtown establishments crumbled and gave way as the fires' heat grew too much for the materials to support them. Glass hissed and shringed wildly, at last exploding in raw, jingley cries of surrender. Metal and steel beams screeched and scrawed, bending and melting, finally collapsing under the obscene heat.



And then, there were the people. . . .



All of the people screaming. Screaming for help. Screaming in pain. Screaming in death. And every other sound around her, no matter how high or loud or horrid, all of them paled to the screams; like an eclipse, they blotted out anything and everything else with their severity and force. No. . . Oh, Goddess, no. . . .



Xander and Dawn sprinted around the edge of the building, crashing into Willow as she stood frozen on the sidewalk. The redhead's legs buckled as Xander's weight hit her from behind, knocking her to her hands and knees. Xander bounced off of Willow, stumbling backwards into Dawn, who grabbed him and stopped him from falling. "Jesus!" he yelled, using the teen's arm to push himself back up. "Shit, Will!"



Dawn moved away from Xander, and squatted beside Willow, taking hold of one of her arms. "Willow, are you okay?"



"Holy fuck." Xander said, his tone freaked and scared.



Dawn glanced at him, and seeing his eyes staring over them, she turned her gaze that direction. Her eyes widened in terror as she took in everything going on around them. "Oh, my God." She looked at Willow quickly. "Willow!"



What the. . . . Willow shook her head, closing her eyes tightly against the spangly lights dancing in her vision. Dawn? She turned her head and found the teen staring worriedly at her.



"Are you okay?" Dawn asked again.



Ow. Willow worked her jaw a couple times. "Yeah." She let Dawn help her up to her unsteady feet, barely aware that Xander had moved up to stand beside her.



"Where do we. . . what do we. . . ?" Xander started, too shocked to finish a coherent thought.



Willow looked at him, then Dawn, then grabbed her sword in both hands one more time. "Buffy."



***



Tara watched in silent horror as the screaming woman came up the sidewalk towards her. Tara's mouth fell open, her eyes widening. Oh. . . . The woman was on fire. She was burning alive. . . . Goddess. Tara felt her heart thunder in her chest, sweat form on her neck. But she couldn't move; however much she wanted to, however much she knew she should, she just couldn't. Her body felt as if it were weighted down, anchored to the spot. Pressing her hands against the glass, feeling the heat from outside, she resigned herself to appalled observer.



Then, the woman stopped screaming. She stopped running. She just. . . stopped. Tara watched as the woman collapsed upon herself, crashing to the cement in a fiery, inhuman heap. Tara's eyes caught more movement on the sidewalk. Oh, thank you, thank you. . . . Two men ran up right behind the woman and gathered around her inert form. "Help. . . her. . . ." Tara whispered against the glass. But they didn't; the two men, much to Tara's shock and disbelief, began to jump up-and-down, jerking their bodies in what Tara realized was some sort of contorted, ungraceful . . . dance. . . .



"MOTHER FUCKERS!"



Another woman's scream-- this one filled with anger and vitriol-- split the air, and Tara pulled her eyes away from the 'danse macabre' in time to see a flash of silver slice through the neck of one of the men; Tara pulled her hands away from the window as his head tumbled off his shoulders to the ground. The quick-moving blur continued it's advance, and Tara took a step back as a blonde-haired woman tried to strike down the second man with what Tara now noticed was a broad sword.



***



As Buffy swung her sword, the second creature jumped aside, narrowly missing the same fate as his cohort. The Slayer stopped instantly, blindly throwing her swordarm backwards, smiling inside as the back of her fist connected to the side of the thing's head. It staggered from the unsuspected blow, falling to it's knees; as Buffy spun to face it, however, it kicked a leg out, catching her in the side. The Slayer stumbled, the heel of one shoe catching on the ground; she fell backwards, landing hard against a streetlight. She droppe the extinguisher as her breath was forcibly expelled from her lungs.



The monster righted itself and howled, jumping over the still-burning woman's body; Buffy looked up as it screamed, catching sight of the thing flying at her. She pushed herself off of the post, the sword thrust out from her body; as the monster's feet landed, Buffy's sword point met it-- directly in its midsection. Buffy screamed her own battle-cry as she charged forward, driving the sword completely through the thing's body, bringing them face-to-face. She pushed on, propelling them both across the short width of the sidewalk towards the storefront window.



***



Tara reeled away from the glass as the two fighters came at her. Reaching a blind hand outward, she found the counter's edge; her body bumped against it as she tried to maneuver around it to protect herself.



CRASH!!!



***



"Buffy!" Dawn screamed as she watched her sister and the monster plow through the huge plate-glass store window.



"HELP ME. . . !"



As Xander ran, he turned his head towards the plaintive scream coming from somewhere across the street.



***



Buffy felt herself falling over the ledge of the window, but she didn't care. She felt shards of glass cutting her face and scalp and hands, but she didn't care. As her body touched down, cushioned only by the monster's lifeless body, she heard and felt more and more glass rain down on and around them.



But she didn't care.



She held tight to her sword, still pushing her weight on it as she tumbled and fell and landed, making sure that the 'thing' was as dead as dead could be.



***



Willow and Dawn reached the store moments after watching Buffy and the monster plunge through the window.



"Buffy!" Dawn screamed again as she looked inside at the two prostrate forms.



Oh, no. . . . Willow stared down at her best friend's body, leaning a hand on the wall to steady herself. "Buffy." Oh, God. . . .



Behind them, Xander had stopped beside the burning woman's body; his eyes darted around, finding the abandoned extinguisher in seconds. Snatching it up, he kicked the decapitated form away from the woman and sprayed the contents over her burning form. As the flames faded, he lowered the extinguisher and grimaced, covering his mouth as he stared at the remains-- all of it charred black, the skin so crisp and shriveled, the posture burned in a pose of eternal agony-- that it was hardly recognizable as human. Had he not seen with his own eyes that it was a woman, he would never have known. Slowly, he removed his jacket and gently draped his jacket over the woman's head and upper body.



Dawn carefully raised a leg and stepped over the small ledge into the store, her shoes crunching on the glass loudly. "Buffy!"



The Slayer groaned, hesitantly pushing herself up from her prone position, her hand never relinquishing its grip on the weapon. "Ow. Jesus. . . ." Sprinkles of glass crumbled away from her jacket and pants and hair as she rolled carefully onto her side. "Shit."



Dawn's hands shook as she took hold of her sister's shoulder and arm, trying to steady her, help her and, simply, touch her all at the same time. "B-Buffy, are you okay?"



Buffy turned to Dawn, still moving as if in slo-motion. Dozens of tiny cuts covered her face and throat and hands, red speckles of blood freckling the pale skin. "Yeah. . . ." She shifted her hip, trying to get an arm under her.



"Careful," Dawn said, as she pushed a hand around her sister's back to help her stand.



Willow closed her eyes briefly. Thank you, thank you, thank you. . . . "Buffy," she said, half question, half relieved statement.



With Dawn's continued assistance, Buffy finally got to her feet with minimal additional abrasions. She shook her arms and head, trying to discard any sharp clingers-on, then looked at her best friend. "I'm good," she said, reaching over and yanking her sword out of the monstrous corpse.



"Yeah you are," Xander said, appearing beside Willow at the window. Buffy caught his eyes; the carpenter gently shook his head and lowered his.



Buffy closed her eyes, feeling her blood begin to boil again, her rage welling up, thrumming throughout her body. "God damnit!" she whispered to herself.



"SOMEONE. . . HELP. . . ME!"



All eyes riveted towards the scream.



"It's her!" It was all Xander said before he took off across the street, axe in hand.



"Wait!" Buffy yelled, grasping Dawn's arm and moving them both for the window. "Xander!"



"Xander!" Willow screamed at the carpenter's receeding back, before turning to help Buffy over the low ledge.



"What do we do?" Dawn asked, clutching the crossbow tightly in her hands.



Buffy glanced at them both, then across the street. Suddenly, more screams filled the night air: men, women, children. They echoed up and down Main Street, their plaintive cries for help pounding The Slayer's senses. Taking one last look in the direction Xander ran, Buffy took a deep, decisive breath. "Stay behind me, stay together," she said and sprinted up the sidewalk, away from Xander, away from escape.



Xander. . . . Willow silently prayed that her best friend would be okay, then turned away, and followed Buffy and Dawn into the fray.



***

[KrisBo5]

After a moment's silence, Tara realized that the four figures had gone away. As quietly as she could, she reached up and grasped the edge of the counter; slowly she pushed herself up, letting her eyes peek over the edge. Almost immediately, they landed on the corpse just inside the window. Oh, Goddess. . . . Her eyes darted quickly to the storefront, making sure no one was there, and then she stood, moving around the counter on shaky legs. She crossed the short distance to the body and stared down at him; she covered her mouth with one hand as her vision tunneled down until all she could see was red.



Blood.



It was everywhere. All over the body. All over the floor. Drops trailed from the window to the body and all the way back again, a macabre Thomas Guide of pain and death.



Tara took hesitant steps towards the ledge, leaning forward just enough to see the other bodies on the sidewalk. Oh, no. . . please no. . . . The decapitated corpse lay on the pavement, spilled blood pooling where the head once was. Tara's eyes slid to the body beside his, and she suddenly felt like the world had tipped off its axis. She put her free hand against the wall to steady herself, as the images assailed her: blackened, charred skin; twisted legs and arms; smoke. Her stomach lurched, and she felt bile rise into her throat; she turned away quickly, resting against the wall as she pressed her eyes closed. Why? Why? They're monsters. . . they're. . . . Tara took in several quick breaths and swallowed again and again, trying desperately to stop herself from vomiting.



A shrill scream, followed quickly by several loud pops, startled Tara's eyes wide open. Her breath came in short gasps, forced in and out in time with her erratic heartbeat. She swallowed hard, forcing the lump from her throat.



Another harrowing scream.



Tara moved away from the wall towards the counter; she picked up the jacket and slid it on, not bothering to button it as she started for the door. Swinging it open, she stepped outside, glancing one last time at the bodies lying there. It was then, for the first time, that she noticed that a jacket was covering the woman's upper body and head. Tara's brow furrowed in confusion. What. . . why would they. . . . Had it been some other time, or some other place, Tara probably would have taken the time to figure out why those four 'monsters' had bothered to cover one of the corpses at all. But she was here now, and they were still out there.



Somewhere.



As was. . . .



Another scream.



. . . Madrine. . . .



Tara turned her back on the horror at her feet and began her walk.



***



Xander ran into the alley between what was left of the hardware store and a small book store. His feet pounded heavily on the cement as he ran, his heart thundering against his ribs.



"PLEASE HEL--"



The woman's scream was cut short, but it didn't make it any less grim. He ignored the burning in his chest and throat, running blindly, running faster than he ever thought he could, his only thought being that he might not be too late.



Midway into the alley, along the left wall, a huge dumpster suddenly shifted on its squeaky, metal wheels. Three figures stood up on the far side next to it, their lower bodies partially hidden. One of the men lifted his arm into the air in a triumphant gesture, and Xander found himself focusing on the limp, dripping 'thing' held in it's upraised fist: an arm.



A human arm.



That was all Xander's brain could process before his mind blanked out. Everything inside disappeared, narrowing and tunneling down to one fine point: the three abominations in his eyeline. To his eyes, they all looked like men, but Xander didn't care. He saw what they had done, what they still seemed to be doing. They were monsters. "AHHHHH!" he screamed, loud and scared and vengeful, as he fell upon them, swinging the axe with everything he had in him. As he spun sharply to deliver a second blow, he was only dimly aware of 'two' soft, wet piles of flesh dropping to the pavement. . . and an altogether new deathnell scream.



***



Buffy spun around, delivering a roundhouse kick to the nearest vampire's chest; he flew back into a parked car, rolling quickly into a back summersault over the hood. A second vampire took The Slayer's brief respite to grab her from behind, pinning her arms at her sides.



The first vampire stood up, then half-jumped, half-flew onto the hood of the car. "Your turn, Bitch!"



Buffy struggled against her captor, trying to shift her body to get some kind of leverage for counter-attack.



THWANG!!!



Buffy's eyes flew to the first vampire, just in time to see an arrow pierce it's chest. POOF! A moment later, nothing remained but dust. Buffy's head snapped to her left; Dawn stood fifteen feet away, aiming an already reloaded crossbow towards the second vamp's head. The vamp's eyes widened as she spoke to him. "You heard him-- Bitch."



The pause in struggle was all Buffy needed; the vamp's grip eased up, allowing The Slayer to buckle her knees and bend forward, neatly flipping the vamp over her head onto the pavement. In a flash, she whipped a stake out from the back of her belt and brought it home, watching with satisfaction as the vamp poofed away to the final dusting ground. "Nice shootin', Tex," she said, as she stood to face her sister.



"Learned from the best," the teen replied.



"She's really hurt," Willow said, interrupting their sisterly moment.



Buffy and Dawn looked at the redhead. Willow was squatting beside an ashen woman, both hands plastered against the side of her throat. Despite Willow's efforts, blood seeped between her fingers, oozing over her skin onto the ground. Next to them, a small boy huddled against the woman, clutching at her arm as he sobbed.



Buffy and Dawn moved quickly to her; Buffy dropped down to one knee, resting a comforting hand on the tyke's shoulder while she addressed her best friend. Dawn kept her back to them, standing guard as chaos continued to swirl around them. "Jesus," Buffy said, seeing up close the extent of injury: two chunks of flesh completely torn out by 'something's' razor-sharp teeth.



"She needs a-- I can't stop it," Willow said, her voice quavering.



Buffy nodded. "Can you guys get to the car?"



"What?" Dawn asked, lowering the crossbow a bit as she looked at her sister. "What 'you guys'?"



Buffy raised her eyes to Dawn's. "You and Willow guys," she replied before returning her attention to Willow. "Can you make it?"



Oh, Goddess, help us. . . . "I-I think so," Willow said, her gaze dropping to the hemorrhaging wound. "I'll. . . try."



"Good," Buffy said, glancing at the terrified young boy. She leaned forward just a bit, so her eyes were completely level with his. "It's gonna be okay." From the corner of her eye, she saw Willow look at her. "Do you think you can be very brave?" Although his whole body shook, he nodded at The Slayer. "I knew you could." Buffy squeezed his shoulder once more and rose to her feet. Dawn was there, facing her, a defiant, angry expression on her face. "Listen--"



"No, Buffy. I'm not going."



"Dawn," The Slayer said, "you have to-- I need you to." The teen opened her mouth to argue her case, but Buffy pushed on. "We don't have time to argue-- I have to stay, and I need you to go with Willow. Please."



Dawn glanced at Willow, then to Buffy. Her face was calm, resolute. "I'm coming back."



Buffy smirked. "You better."



"No, I mean I'm coming ba--"



"I know what you mean."



Then, Buffy and Dawn turned, The Slayer reaching a hand out to the small boy, while Dawn and Willow each took one arm of the woman. After securing the woman between them, the teen hefted the crossbow in her free hand. "Okay."



Willow looked at the boy. "Ready?" she asked, holding a hand out for him. He nodded silently and held on with both hands. She turned to Buffy and held The Slayer's eyes with her own. Please be safe. . . please find her. . . .



Buffy barely nodded, then started to turn away. "I will," she said softly. "Now go." And with that, they watched as The Slayer bolted off the sidewalk into the street, running into the chaotic melee with heroic abandon.



"She'll be okay," Dawn said, shifting her weight.



Willow looked at the teen. Buffy. . . ? Or Tara. . . ? She realized it didn't matter who Dawn was referring to specifically-- both of them would be all right.



They had to be.



They had to be.



***



Madrine raised her head, slowly releasing the limp form she held in her arms. The man's inert form slid from her lap and fell to the floor at the foot of her chair with a soft thump. Instantly, two figures moved forward and dragged the corpse away. Madrine sat back, slowly wiping the traces of blood from the corners of her mouth and licking each fingertip in turn. "Where is Tara?"



Mr. Bellum stepped up to her side and bowed slightly to speak quietly in her ear. "She is still in the shops, Madam."



Madrine nodded silently. "Whatever she desires. . . ." Madrine let the statement fade, unfinished.



He stood up slowly and moved back. "Of course, Madam," he said softly.



Madrine sat silent for a moment, simply savoring the iron taste still coating the back of her throat. She had chosen this store specifically, as it was just around the corner from Main Street, and she was able to watch some of the goings-on outside, and at the same time unable to actually be disturbed by any distasteful noises that might arise. It was a vantage point she enjoyed greatly as she tapped her fingers against the armrest softly, her fingertips pressing into a quickly-drying sticky liquid; again she raised her hand and inserted one finger after the other into her mouth, devouring every last drop of blood.



The sliding doors whooshed open, and two men and one woman entered, stopping just inside the entrance. Madrine and Mr. Bellum turned their gazes upon them, their eyes travelling over every inch of their forms. Mr. Bellum stepped up beside Madrine's chair and addressed them directly. "You bring nothing?"



The man furthest inside took one more step and smiled, a half-sneer that twisted his face into an evil grimace. "Only The Slayer," he said.



The floor fell silent again. And then, Madrine's hand appeared on one of Mr. Bellum's shoulders as she raised herself out of her reclined position, her body unfolding from the chair in a single, graceful maneuver. She moved predatorily around Mr. Bellum, inching deliberately, unhurriedly towards the trio, her eyes never leaving the man's. She stopped before him, her eyes glancing past him to the others before returning fully to his. "You have The Slayer?"



"No," he answered, aware instantly of the slight tilting of Madrine's head. "But she's here. Along with all the others."



Madrine pulled herself up straight, her eyes again moving from his, this time to the windows showing the bedlam outside. "The Slayer. . . ." Mr. Bellum appeared beside her wordlessly. "Enough waiting. Enough games. This ends-- she ends-- now."



"Yes, Madam."



But Madrine paused, unmoving. 'Along with all the others.' Something occurred to her then; she tightened her fists and clenched her jaw. "The witch," she said under her breath. Her eyes scoured the outside street, before shifting to the right, towards Main Street, their black depths reflecting the reds and oranges and yellows blazing the darkness. In a whisper, she said, "Is that why she wanted to. . . ." She left the thought dangling, her anger and hatred seeping from every pore of her being. Her eyes continued to stare out into the night. "Where. Is. Tara."



Mr. Bellum made a quick, silent gesture, and suddenly everyone shuffled forward towards them, surrounding them, a well-coiffed army ready for orders. Half a dozen stepped around Madrine and Mr. Bellum, taking up point positions, while the rest filled in on flank and behind. Mr. Bellum glanced at Madrine, his voice low and calm. "We will find her, Madam."



And with that, they whole group marched forward en masse, the sliding doors whooshing! again as they departed the store. As they moved out into the night once again, the sounds of terror and destruction greeted them. Madrine smiled despite her ire, every scream and explosion music to her ears. "Yes," she whispered, "We will find her. . . . I will find her. I will find them all."



***

[KrisBo5]

"Here! Through here!" Dawn said loudly, shifting the woman's weight as she tried to stop their progression.



Willow stumbled as she was jerked up short by the teen's abrupt halt. What the. . . ? The redhead verified that the small boy was still with them before she let her eyes travel to where Dawn was indicating they should go. It was an alley, dark and dirty and, even from where she stood. . .stinky. "No," Willow said, looking at the teen. "We're almost there."



"I think-- we shouldn't be out here."



What's she. . . we have to keep going. . . . "It's three blocks-- and our path was cleared on the way up, remember?"



"This runs behind-- look, we'll come out behind the car, just around the corner."



Uh. . . .



"It's off the street. And dark. No one will see us."



. . . yeah. "No." Willow tried to get them moving again. A shriek, followed by a howling roar, sounded not too far behind them. "We have to go!" But Dawn stood her ground. And Willow felt her fear and anger rising. "Dawn, we don't have time for this. . ." . . . shit! ". . . right now."



"I don't--" the teen began, raising her crossbow quickly towards the street when a piercing wail reverberated nearby. She kept her eyes peeled as she spoke. "I can't see her again, Willow."



Oh, Goddess. "I'm sorry, Dawnie, I didn't. . . ." She hefted the woman's weight a bit. "The alley's too dark," she said, continuing quickly as she caught Dawn's expression. "We'll cross the street, Dawnie." The teen glanced quickly over her shoulder. "We can do this," Willow said, her voice full of steel resolve. Oh, Goddess, please let us do this. . . .



Another round of wails and shrieks and howls rose up into the night, this time followed by an explosion that rocked the pavement where they stood. Dawn kept her crossbow raised. "Then we better go now."



We. Can. Do. This. Willow hooked her free arm around the small boy's shoulders and hugged him close, her small sword still held tight in her fist. "We can do this," she repeated, feeling like she needed to reiterate the sentiment for the others, but knowing, in her heart, she was saying it for her own benefit.



***



Xander collapsed to his knees, a gust of blood spraying from his mouth as his breath was kicked out of him. Around each of his wrists was tied heavy rope, the ends of which stretched away from him over the dirty ground. He fell forward onto his hands, another spray of red liquid stippling the ground when the breath he tried to take in refused to stay inside his lungs. Tiny specks of light flashed and danced behind his eyelids as he coughed and sputtered for air.



A loud CRACK! sounded several feet from him, and before he could even raise his head, a body fell hard to the ground beside him. A moment later, a broken, bloody 2 x 4 landed beside the inert man's form. His hands, like Xander's, were also tied, but behind his back with the end of rope lassoed around his throat to prevent any struggling. Blood covered his face and head; it pouried from his nose and mouth and ears, from cuts and gashes and crushed bones.



"Tito!" Xander screamed, though it came out sounding only like a harsh, coarse whisper.



"Tito! Tito!" a man's voice mimicked, suddenly stepping into Xander's view. The pantlegs of his suit, once a charcoal grey, were covered in a dark liquid, which Xander instinctively knew was blood. Tito's blood. The man spun suddenly and kicked Tito in the side, sending the lifeless form rolling onto his back.



"Stop!" Xander screamed, struggling to stand.



The man turned back to Xander and smiled. "No, no, no," he said in a sing-song voice.



Xander managed to get one foot under him. "You bast--" The ropes around his wrists were pulled suddenly, yanking his arms almost from their sockets; his body fell forward onto the ground with a loud thud, again knocking the wind out of him. Before he knew what was happening, he was being dragged across the debris-ladden flooring, the ropes growing more taut with each inch he travelled. Pebbles and glass and cement sliced into his arms and chest as he slid, burning like acid as they tore away bits of his flesh.



Then the ropes began to rise from the cement, and Xander felt his arms and body follow, pulling up, up, up, until he was lifted into an upright position. His arms were secured tightly to the unfinished roof above his head, his body dangling in the air, his feet several inches above the ground. "Ahhhhh!" Xander yelled-growled, trying to hold his body rigid, trying to stop his arms from being torn from his body.



The man walked up to Xander, stopping before him. "No more Tito." Two others, dressed identically, moved up and stood beside him, their arms crossed over their chests. "Just you." The man smiled and reached out, jabbing his index finger into one of the cuts on Xander's cheek; he brought the finger to his mouth and tasted the red liquid, shaking his head in dreamy ecstacy. "And us." His smile seemed to stretch wider, monstrously grotesque as the jaw came off its hinge, exposing perfect rows of razor-sharp teeth.



Xander screamed.



***



"Wha-- Willow!" Dawn's legs buckled under the weight of the woman she and Willow carried, and she felt herself going down, her body pitching over sideways.



SHIT! Willow, caught completely unawares by Dawn's sudden collapse, fell hard, her forearms and knees scraping against the roughened cement as her body landed in a painful heap beside the remains of a burned-out storefront. Ou. . . CH!.



Dawn's body met a similar fate just across from the redhead, repleat with the bone-jarring CRACK! of her chin hitting pavement. "Fuuuckkk,," Dawn whispered, when the pain and the shooting stars had both subsided.



The small boy was beside Willow in an instant, tugging her arm, the hollow clink-clank of her sword hitting the ground with each pull. "Hol-- okay, wait," Willow said, pushing up onto her elbows. The boy was relentless, yanking her swordarm several more times. "I'm. . . ," Willow started, shifting onto her hip. Dawnie? "Dawn?" Oh, God, no. Willow got to her knees, as painful as they were, and reached over to touch the teen's shoulder. "Dawn!"



Dawn raised her head and looked at Willow, blinking several times. "That. Hurt."



Oh, thank you. The boy pulled at Willow once more, and she nodded. She got a foot under her and took hold of the woman's arm once again. Dawn struggled to her feet, grabbing the woman's other arm. They both stood, raising the body between them. Willow glanced at Dawn and gasped when she saw the steady flow of blood running down the teen's chin and neck, slowly soaking into her shirt.



Dawn's eyes darted to Willow's, then she absently wiped the back of her crossbow hand over her chin. She caught sight of the blood and gave Willow a shrug. "Took it on the chin." She smiled as she took a step. "It's okay."



They started off again, huffing and heaving as they half-dragged the woman between them. The boy had relinquished his hold on Willow finally, choosing instead to walk just in front of them; he glanced back at them every second step, moving on only when he was sure they were still following.



Willow craned her neck to the left, her face cringing as she watched a bat-wielding man chopping downward towards something or someone; she thanked her remaining lucky stars that she couldn't hear the sickening'thunk' that, no doubt, accompanied every single blow. Oh, Goddess! Don't look-- don't look. Just go! When only two blocks and a street-crossing were left to the car, Willow allowed herself some small glimmer of hope. We're gonna make it. . . we're gonna. . . .



A woman's scream extinguished the glimmer. The scream was followed by a CRASH and a loud, lengthy stream of profanity. Willow and Dawn stopped dead in their tracks, both raising their eyes and to look up the block. Then, they looked at one another, an eternity of silence playing out in just seconds. Dawnie, no. Willow slowly shook her head. "No," she said, grabbing onto Dawn with the hand wrapped around the woman's waist. "We're almost there!"



Dawn seemed to stand up straighter, her face resolute. "Willow--"



"No!"



Dawn looked quickly over her shoulder, in the direction they had travelled; then she looked up the block. Finally she looked at Willow. "Then who?"



Willow blinked. That's not. . . .



"Willow, who? Buffy's not here to. . . ." Dawn's words trailed off.



"And I can't," Willow said, finishing the thought for her. The words could not have hurt more, had Dawn actually, physically hit her.



Dawn shook her head, grabbing onto the arm that held her own. "No," she said, making sure Willow was listening, was looking into her eyes. "That's not it," she continued, "and you know it." She tried to smile. "This," she said, squeezing Willow's arm while she raised the crossbow in the store's direction, "this is what the Scoobies do."



Tears stung Willow's eyes suddenly, as the truth of her words struck home. Right now, it didn't matter that Dawn was a teenager, or that she was Buffy's sister. They were the Scoobies, and there was someone who needed their help. And Willow knew, that sometimes? Sometimes helping meant sacrifice. Sometimes, helping meant saying goodbye. Willow's lips quivered as a tear fell, gliding down her cheek. "I'm sorry. . . I'm sorry."



And then, Dawn did smile, big and bright and full of love. "I'm not," she said, carefully shifting out from under the woman's weight. When she was sure that Willow had the woman secure, she raised her hand and wiped away the redhead's tears. "I'm not sorry, Willow, not at all." She held Willow's eyes for a second, then took a step backwards. "I love you, Willow." Dawn grasped the crossbow in both hands, turned, and ran up the street, swallowed instantly by the ever-thickening smoke and darkness.



A small cry escaped before Willow could stop it. I love you, too, Dawnie. The boy tugged on Willow's shirt, pulling her attention out of her spiraling sadness and fear. Wha-- Willow looked down at the frightened boy, who continued to hold onto her shirt as he tried to drag her along with him. She cleared her throat and tried to smile. Holding the woman tighter in both arms, Willow took an uncertain step; when she knew that she was able to walk and carry the woman successfully, she took another step. And another. She raised her eyes from her feet, once she knew they would not fail her. Shortest distance. . . straight line. . . straight line. . . . Carefully, she stepped off the curb, moving diagonally across Main Street, up towards the street corner where she knew they would find the Jeep.



***



Buffy's knuckles were bleeding, but The Slayer wasn't feeling any pain. Not anymore. She had already punched and battered so many vampires and demons she had lost count; along the way to that end, she had lost all feeling in her hands. And arms. And legs. Sweat ran freely down her face and neck, the salty wetness burning her eyes as she continued her relentless assault against anything and everything she encountered.



The Slayer dropped down lowas the mucus-challenged demon took another swing at her face with its clawed fist. Using her free hand as leverage, Buffy swung a foot out in a perfectly-timed sweeper kick, knocking the beast onto its dorsal-finned back. Not hesitating, she swung her sword down blindly, feeling tremendous satisfaction as the metal blade met solid form momentarily before sliding through to pavement. She pivoted slowly, glancing at her handiwork; her breath was hard and labored, and she leaned her hand against the wall as her exhaustion pushed to made its presence known.



Two vampires charged into the alley suddenly, both taking one look at her and smiling grotesquely; they both hissed loudly, running full-bore towards her. Buffy took a quick, deep breath, sighing loudly as she exhaled. Then she pushed herself up the wall and raised her sword, determined to meet them both on her feet.



***



With the whoosh-ing of the doors still in her ears, Tara entered the department store, her boots click-clacking over the white linoleum floors. She scanned the empty aisles and walkways; clothes and food and books and every other thing littered the ground, but she saw no one, heard no one. She took several more steps, moving carefully over the clutter and debris, her eyes never stopping their surveillance of her surroundings. Where. . . where is she. . . ?



She weaved through the dismantled display racks until she found herself on the other side of the store in, from what she could tell, was 'home furnishings.' Shelving units and endcaps filled with everything from towels to candles to baskets, had been pushed aside to form an open square area. At its center was a single chair. She moved to it, stopping by its side. Slowly she raised a hand, letting it hover over the seat for several seconds. A smile found its way to her lips as the first tingles touched her palm; an itchy, speckling energy tickled and danced over her skin. Madrine. . . . She lowered her hand, letting her fingers touch the armrest. Wait-- what is. . . . Tara turned her hand over, seeing the red liquid on her fingertips. Oh, Goddess. . . .



She wiped her hand on her dress repeatedly, trying desperately to get rid of the sticky blood; her heart pounded thunderously, her blood rushed in her ears. She leaned slightly over the chair, lengthening her neck until she could see the floor on the other side of the chair. Her mouth fell slightly open as she took in the small pool of blood staining the floor. No, no, no. . . . Drops of blood peppered the floor, leaving a grim trail towards one of the shelving units. Tara glanced over her shoulder quickly before she took a step around the chair; slowly she began to follow the path, stopping only when the blood did at the edge of the carpet.



Swallowing hard, she took a deep breath and peeked around the corner. Goddess, no. . . . Disbelief, mingled with disgust and nausea, swept over her. On the floor, a dozen bodies were piled-- men, women, even children-- their bodies broken and torn apart, their flesh ripped or shredded or missing altogether. Tara turned away, pressing her back against the cool metal of the shelf as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Tears burned behind her closed eyes, and she covered her mouth to stop from crying out or vomiting. . . or both.



Then she felt it again.



The tingling.



She opened her eyes as her hand fell away from her mouth; she stared at the fingers that had just been covered in blood. Her eyes darted to the chair, then back to her hand. "Madrine." Tara pushed away from the shelf and ran.



***

Edited by: KrisBo5 at: 6/3/03 11:34 pm

[KrisBo5]

Dawn pressed her back against the wall, her breathing hard and fast, and scooted along the roughened bricks until she reached the edge at the alley entrance. There, she paused, and keeping the crossbow leveled, she squatted, bending low to the ground, and readying herself to cross the short distance. Counting silently to herself, the teen took a deep breath and pushed off, running past the alley without so much as a glance, not stopping until her back was safely pressed against another wall. She tried to calm her breathing so she could listen around her; she hadn't heard any screaming from the woman in several minutes, and she was unsure exactly where she was or even if she was still alive.



"Come on. . . ." As if on cue, a loud roaring rose up, followed by a scream and the sound of glass shattering. Dawn almost dropped the crossbow. "Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit. . . ." The teen's hands gripped the weapon tighter, trying to still the trembling that had begun to rattle her whole body.



"Can't you destroy somewhere else? I'm one of you, for cripes' sake!"



The screaming woman's disembodied voice rose above the din, and Dawn froze. But froze in an entirely different way. Not with sickness. Or fear. Or even impending death. The teen stood up straight, a look of utter confusion and disbelief covering her face. "Anya?"



***



Stop. . . . Willow's lungs burned. Stop. . . . Her arms burned. Gotta. . . . Her legs burned. Each and every step felt like a mile, and each and every bone and muscle and fiber of her being screamed at her to just. . . STOP!



She staggered as her shoe caught the edge of the curb, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn't get her other leg up fast enough to stop her fall. As she and the woman went down, Willow twisted her body underneath the woman so she took all of the impact as they hit the hard pavement. UGH! Willow released the woman, her arms and sword falling tiredly to her sides. . . . crap. . . .



Willow's body convulsed unexpectedly, sharp bone-rattling coughs racking her entire body. The mixture of decreasing adrenaline, smoke inhalation, terror, and plain old exhaustion had finally caught up to her, weighing on her like a iron press. When the attack finally ended, the boy took hold of her hand and tugged. Gimme a break. . . . ". . . 'kay," Willow said, still breathless and hoarse.



She carefully rolled the woman's body over to the ground, then pushed herself up onto her knees; she took a deep breath and grabbed hold of one arm, she paused. I can't. . . I just. . . can't. . . . She glanced down beside her and quickly retrieved her sword; she raised her eyes and took stock of their location. Jesus. . . . To her complete astonishment, Willow realized that they were only thirty or so feet from the corner, fifty or so feet from the Jeep. Thank you, thank you, thank you. . . .



Willow moved behind the woman and lifted her body into a sitting position; she slid both of her arms under the woman's armpits and clasped her hands together around the sword hilt now pressed just below the woman's breasts. Shifting her weight until she felt semi-balanced, Willow dead-lifted the woman, raising her high enough off the ground to be able to drag her the rest of the way. "JESUS!" she grunted as she backpeddled towards the corner.



The boy walked along side of her, stopping whenever Willow did. "Keep. . . going," she huffed, glancing over her shoulder. Twenty. . . . More labored steps. Fifteen. . . . More burning in her lungs. Ten. . . . More burning in her arms. Five. . . . More burning in her legs. They reached the corner, and Willow paused to take several deep breaths before turning her gaze towards their final destination.



The Jeep was still there, miraculously untouched by anything or anyone; tears filled her eyes as she looked down at the boy. "We made it," she said, trying to smile reassuringly. Come on! She hefted the woman's weight and started towards the Jeep. Dawn'll be here soon. . . . Another step. . . . she can take them. . . . Another step. . . . I can go back. . . . Another step. . . . and look for Tara. . . .



She stopped beside the Jeep and squatted down; leveraging her body against the Jeep, Willow dropped her sword to the sidewalk before she lowered the woman to the ground. Squeezing out from behind the woman, she carefully propped her up against the front passenger seat door. "Okay. . . okay. . . ," she said, taking several quick breaths. She moved to the back seat passenger door and opened it, then looked at the boy. "Get in," she said. He just looked at her. She offered him her hand. "It's okay now. . . you're okay." Instead of taking her hand, the boy's eyes shifted away from hers, moving towards the woman behind her. Willow followed his gaze. Shit!



The woman's body had slumped sideways, her head hanging precariously over the curb beside the front tire. Willow dropped down beside the woman and took hold of her shoulders, preparing to get her up and into the car. But as she began to lift her, she hesitated. This isn't. . . something's not. . . . Hand shaking, Willow placed her fingers against the uninjured side of the woman's neck.



Nothing.



No. . . . Willow, not so gently, pulled the woman away from the Jeep and settled her on her back, bending lowr until her ear was over the woman's nose; with her fingers once again at the woman's throat, she struggled to listen. . . and feel.



But there was nothing.



"NO!" Willow yelled, quickly opening the woman's mouth with one hand as she pinched her nose close with the other. "No, no, no, no!" Willow took a deep breath and blew it into the woman's mouth. She raised her head. "You can't do this!" She took another breath and tried again. She moved her hands to the woman's chest and began compressions, counting out loud between each one. "One and two and three and four and five. . . breathe." She continued CPR for what seemed like forever, but she knew could only be two or three minutes at most. Her arms ached and she felt lightheaded, and no matter how hard she tried, she was getting no response. Please no. . . . After a final attempt, Willow stopped. Fresh tears stung her eyes as she tried to catch her breath.



"I'm. . . sorry," she finally managed, sniffling loudly. She glanced over her left shoulder towards the boy as tears spilled from her eyes. But he wasn't there. What-- She looked down the street, at the broken store window, at the Jeep. But he wasn't there. Goddess, wher-- She turned to her right, just in time to glimpse something shiny and silver arcing straight towards her head.



***



Madrine entered the small department store, pausing just inside. Mr. Bellum, as always, shadowed her, he himself followed by two others. She glanced to her right, taking in the sight of the skewered corpse on the floor just inside the display window. "Tara. . . was here?" Although asked as a question, something in her tone sounded uncertain, wary.



"This is where we left her, Madam," Mr. Bellum replied, as he glanced at the body on the floor. He shifted his weight, clasping his hands together in front of his body.



Madrine's jaw clenched as her eyes travelled the length of the store, wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling, resting only every now and then. Her gaze finally found its way to the cashier's counter. Slowly she walked the short distance, and stopped. She reached an elegant hand out to the pile of neatly folded clothes, barely allowing her fingertips to graze the material; then, she tilted her head, and inhaled. Without grace or care, Madrine grabbed the stack of clothes, flinging all but one away from her.



Ever-so-slowly, Madrine picked up the remaining item of clothing: the leather jacket Tara had been wearing in the limousine. She brought the garment close to her face, closing her eyes as Tara's smell assailed her heightened senses. Then, Madrine opened her eyes and lowered the jacket; she turned and glanced once more at the corpse near the window before she spoke. "Burn it down," she said, looking out into the night. "Burn it all down."



***



Buffy's head snapped back from the force of the punch; before she could recover, another blow came, this time to her stomach. The Slayer doubled over, trying to force oxygen into her mutinous lungs. A roundhouse kick sent her flying into the side of a dumpster, banging hard against the metal before falling to the wet, dirty ground. Buffy opened her mouth wide, taking in a loud gust of air, wishing only now that the tiny flecks dancing before her eyes would disappear. She had managed to dust one of the attacking vamp's, but the remaining one, as she soon discovered, was not as easy.



"Bitch!"



Another sound kick struck her just below her armpit; Buffy grimaced, pretty sure the crack! she heard was a rib breaking. A pair of hands grabbed The Slayer's shoulders and yanked her to her feet; she felt the ground fall away as the hands moved from her shoulders to her throat, lifting her several inches off the ground. "Ac-- cck," Buffy struggled for air, struggled to get some strength into her arms.



"You die!"



Buffy kicked her feet uselessly, aware that the tiny dancing flecks were now going supernova. Just as quick, her vision began to blur and grow dark, and Buffy knew she had to do something-- and do it fast.



Otherwise. . . .



With the last of her strength, she reached both hands out, jabbing her thumbs into the vampire's eyes as hard as she possibly could. The vamp screamed as he released his grip, and Buffy dropped to the ground; he clawed at her hands, but The Slayer refused to let go. Buffy was tired. And weak. And darn near choked to death-- she had to end this right pronto.



Buffy started forward, pushing her thumbs in deeper as she propelled them both across the width of the alley. The vamp continued his wailing and grasping, but Buffy squeezed her hands against his head, gripping it like a vice. She rammed the vamp's body into the wall, feeling her thumbs break through a thick gelatinous barrier. "Ah!" She yanked her hands back, a slick, wet, squishy material clinging to her fingers. "Eeew!"



The vamp covered his eyes, screaming endlessly about losing his eyes and how much pain he was in. Buffy shook her hands again and again, trying to get rid of the excess 'brain matter' covering them. "Oh, that is so gross," she whispered.



"I'll kill you, you. . . you-- CUNT!



Buffy paused, her hands mid-shake. She looked at the vamp, her expression blank. Then, displeasure and anger painted her features. With lightning-fast speed, Buffy withdrew a stake from under her jacket at her back, whipping it around and stabbing it into the vamp's heart. "Don't ever-- ever-- call me that!" she said just before he dusted.



Buffy stepped back, still pissed. . . and still tired, and slowly bent down to retrieve her sword. Pausing a second longer, she reached over a few feet and picked up a fallen double-sided axe. Then she rose and turned towards the alley entrance facing Main Street. Taking a deep sighing breath, she started walking.



***



"You'll pay for tha--" Anya yelled, cut off prematurely by a backhand to her mouth. The vengeance demon flew through the air, landing against a bookcase before collapsing in a heap at its base.



Dawn rolled over and raised the crossbow, ignoring the trickle of blood that ran from a small laceration over her eyebrow into her eye. Although it blurred her vision, the teen was still able to get off the shot, sending the bolt sailing across the Magic Box into the throat of the marauding vampire.



"The heart!" Anya said loudly as her head emerged from the wooden debris that buried her. "Shoot him-- In. The. Heart!"



"No-duh," Dawn said to herself, as she tried to simultaneously reload the crossbow and get to her feet. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and the teen swayed sideways, realizing too late that she might be a little more injured than she had first thought. ". . . crap. . ." she mumbled as the Earth suddenly seemed to tilt off its axis; finally losing her war with gravity, Dawn crashed into the table, tipping it over completely as she half-fell, half-slid to the floor with a loud thud.



"Dawn!" Anya screamed, at last freeing herself from the rubble.



The vampire jumped over the end of the counter, landing beside Dawn's prone body. The teen reached for the crossbow, but a booted foot pinned her wrist to the ground, just inches from the weapon. "Ahh!" Dawn screamed, closing her eyes against the excruciating pain in her arm.



Anya clawed the rest of the way over the pile, ready to reek some old-school vengeance on the vampire. As she rose to her feet, a couple of burning objects sailed into the shop, one landing in the middle of the floor, one just a few feet from where she stood. The sound of glass exploding, followed by a whoosh, heralded the arrival of two Malatov Cocktails; the flames accelerated through the shop at rocket speed, destroying everything in their wake. Anya morphed into Vengeance form as she turned towards the store front. "You'll pay for that. . . ." This time, Anya's threat wasn't cut off; the Vengeance Demon simply felt her venom peter out as she came face-to-face with four demons coming through the front door and broken-out window.



Anya had always prided herself on her knowledge of all things demon, as well as her ability to face whatever they might be with some equanimity, but nothing-- nothing-- had prepared her for what she watched coming straight towards them. "Holy. . . crap-snack. . . ."



The vampire reached down and grabbed a handful of Dawn's hair, yanking her head up so he could look into her face. Dawn grimaced with the pain, unable to do anything to free herself. She opened her eyes and watched as the vamp's pointed incisors descended towards her throat.



Dawn screamed.



***

[KrisBo5]

Willow fell over backwards as the sword barely missed the crown of her head, slicing instead into the side of the Jeep; the back of her head struck the pavement, shooting sparkles of light before her eyes. Owww. . . . Blinking several times, she tried to clear the throbbing and dizziness. The screech of metal on metal forced her back, and Willow lifted her head towards the sound.



The small boy was tugging on the sword, one foot against the Jeep's bumper for leverage.



What. . . .



One final yank freed the sword from its metallic confines, causing him to stumble backwards with the force.



. . . the. . . .



Then, he turned to face Willow, his once-human features gone. In their place, dark solid eyes with thin, vertical slits for pupils; a concave nose consisting of only two nostril holes; and an 'un-hingeable' jaw, which opened and moved forward six inches from his face.



"FUCK!" Willow screamed, kicking her feet and clawing her hands at the sidewalk, pushing herself away from him as fast as she could. Her glance stole towards the dead woman, focusing for one crystal-clear instant on her neck, and, in that brief instant, she knew: no vampires had done that-- he had.



It had.



When he took a step towards her, Willow wanted to scream out for help, but she knew there was no one else around.



There was no one to help her.



She was on her own.



Get. . . weapon. . . . She scrambled onto her side, managing to get her feet under her enough to stand up. . . . get. . . in car. . . . Then she was running. But not to the car. She ran away-- away from the car, and away from him. Willow knew that if she could put enough distance between them, she would have a better chance.



So she ran away.



Just not far enough.



Or fast enough.



Before she had sprinted a dozen feet, Willow felt a quick, sharp sting across the back of her left leg, just above her knee, then a searing, burning pain shooting up the length of her body. It happened so fast, she couldn't even scream. Her left foot just seemed to take on a mind of it's own, refusing to move forward with the rest of her; she felt herself going down again, this time falling face-first. She was dimly aware that whatever pain she was feeling now, she was in for much, much more, as she fell onto the hundreds of glass shards from the broken-out store window. Willow felt the crystalline pieces scrape and cut and stab into her hands and arms, but she didn't have the time to process how bad she was hurt.



Get up. . . get up. . . GET UP! But she couldn't get her hands and feet to work together, the paincenters and mobility functions in her brain had all switched to overload. She hazarded a glance over her shoulder, trying to gauge how much time she had left. The 'boy' was right there, bending towards her, his mouth opening ever-wider as a second pair of teeth pushed forward, clacking fiendishly together; the sword, again, was making a graceful but deadly arc towards her.



This time, Willow did scream. She grabbed a shard of glass just before the boy swung the sword down; she rolled to her right, hearing the metal connect with the pavement behind her. As her body reached the side of the building, she sat up quickly, trying desperately to get her injured leg to do what it was told. Get. . . up. . . .



She pushed herself to her feet, then quickly ducked down again as a flash of silver came at her. This time, however, when she heard the resounding clink of the sword striking the wall, Willow struck back; she swung her arm as fast and as hard as she could, slashing the glass across the boy's chest. He screamed and dropped the sword, stepping away from her as he clutched at the open, bleeding wound.



RUN! Willow's mind screamed at her, and she could do nothing but obey. She snatched the sword up and ran, a painful, lopsided gait that carried her back towards Main Street. Don't. . . look. . . back. . . . She passed the Jeep without a second glance and found herself at the corner; her eyes moved frenetically, pinging from one building to the next, unable to discern exactly where she should go.



She was hit suddenly from behind, a perfectly-executed tackle that snapped her head back on her neck even as it sent her sprawling out into the street. Willow felt her body bounce off the blackened cement, felt the air forcibly sucked out of her lungs, as a solid weight pressed down on her. How she had managed to keep hold of the sword, Willow didn't know; all she knew was, she was facedown, spread-eagle on the ground and that thing was sitting on top of her.



Willow started to thrash wildly, trying to get free or, at the very least, turn over and fight. Her bucking bronco imitation worked well enough for her, allowing her to roll onto her back. The 'boy' swooped down, unhinging his jaw as his other set of teeth moved out to finish Willow off. With one hand on the hilt, and the other on the blade, Willow brought the sword up between their bodies, pressing the weapon against his throat. The teeth flashed out towards her, snapping closed an inch from her face. . . . JESUS!



Visions of 'Alien' spurred Willow on, forcing adrenaline throughout every muscle and bone. And, even though it gave her a boost of strength, she knew she couldn't hold him off forever. She had to make a choice. And make it quick. Shifting her hips, she let go of the sword blade, feeling the metal tip fall to the ground and press sharply against her own neck; Willow reached up with her free hand and grabbed onto the extended set of teeth. The boys' eyes widened, but before he could do anything, Willow twisted and pulled, hearing-- as well as seeing-- the monstrocities snap off into her shaking fist. The boy screamed and sat up, blood spurting into the air. Willow dropped the teeth and grabbed onto the hilt with both hands; although her leverage wasn't great, she swung the blade up, watching as it sliced through the small, thin throat before emerging on the other side.



The screaming stopped instantly, and Willow watched horrified as the boy's head fell off backwards, rolling down his own back before landing on her stomach and bouncing off to the street a second later. And then, the boy slumped, falling forward onto her prostrate body, covering it. Willow felt his blood pouring out of him, bathing her chest and shoulders, her neck and hair in it warm, slick wetness. Seconds passed, but Willow felt paralyzed, unable to move or think or feel. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. . . . help. . . .



***



Tara ran, pausing on the sidewalk just outside the store. Glancing left and right, she watched the chaos and devestation unfold around her. It had spread from Main Street, cascading unchecked down every adjacent avenue. Again, feelings of impotence, of defenselessness, surfaced, pushing sharply through her consciousness. Help. . . I need to. . . .



Tara looked towards Main Street, her stomach lurching. . . . help. . . . With shaking legs, Tara started to run.



***



Mr. Bellum snapped his fingers once. Two figures, a man and a woman dressed in completely identical suits, moved forward from the doorway. They stepped around Mr. Bellum and stood side-by-side. Then, as if it were second-nature, they both reached inside their respective coat pockets and retrieved two items: she, a small bottle; he, a small box. The woman unscrewed the lid and threw her arm outward, spreading the contents of the bottle on the floor in front of them. The man opened the box and pulled out a small, silver pellet and casually tossed it onto the floor.



Mr. Bellum took a step back, pushed open the door, and looked at Madrine. "Madam." Madrine stood perfectly still, Tara's jacket held tightly in both hands, close to her chest. "Madam, please," Mr. Bellum tried again.



"Get out," she said at last, her voice low and dangerous. Mr. Bellum hesitated, not wanting to abandon his mistress in any way. "Get. Out."



Mr. Bellum nodded solemnly and turned his back on her; he walked out of the store, immediately followed by the remaining group. Mr. Bellum dropped off the curb, walked into the street and opened the front passenger door of the limousine; he got inside and shut the door. The man and woman wandered out into the street, wading into the smoke and haze, vanishing entirely.



A slow hiss began to rise at Madrine's feet as the pellet melted, its silver mass washing over the floor, mixing with the contents of the bottle. The hiss grew louder and louder until it was almost a roar; then, it disappeared, collapsing in on itself like a vacuum until there was no sound at all. There was a second of complete silence, of complete stillness, and then. . . .



"Burn. It. All." Madrine whispered.



. . . . BA-BOOM!



The explosion rocked the store to its foundation. The force blew out the remaining glass windows and door, cracked the walls and ceiling. Fire mushroomed throughout the store, seeping outside, licking up the sides towards the sky.



Mr. Bellum shifted in his seat as glass and wood and metal rained down on the car. Silently, he watched through his window, his expression blank and empty.



***



Buffy could feel the sweltering heat as she emerged from the alley. She wiped one still-goop-covered hand against the side of her leg. "Sick," she said, making a disgusted face just before. . . .



. . . . BA-BOOM!



"Jesus!" she yelled, her heart pounding furiously in her chest as the ground shook below her feet. She reached out and pressed a hand against the wall, steadying herself. Looking to her left, Buffy watched as a storefront back towards the Jeep exploded outwards, showering Main Street in fire and debris. ". . . fucking Christ!"



***



From where she lay, Willow heard the explosion, heard its aftermath rain down not too far from her. The ground continued to vibrate, shaking for endless seconds. God. . . no more. . . . Willow opened her eyes, staring up into the night sky, blinking slowly as she watched billows of black and white smoke smother the stars and moon from her view. . . . please. . . . Her eyes drifted shut again as she tried to gather whatever strength she could to re-enter the battle.



***



Tara pressed herself against the side of the building, falling to one knee as the explosion wracked the ground. What. . . ? She could see the corner, just ten feet away, and she knew that she had to get there. Whatever just happened, it was there. On Main Street. Madrine. . . . She was there. On Main Street.



Tara grasped the bricks and pulled herself up, ignoring the ache in her knee; staying close to the wall, she took a wobbly step toward the corner. Ten. . . nine. . . eight. . . seven. . . .



***



Buffy's eyes moved upwards as the fire rose into the sky. It wasn't so much that the flames were worse than anything she had seen this very night; it was really more that they puffed and billowed and rolled up the side of the building, finally lashing skywards, snapping and popping their deadly tendrils against the night. She watched silently, mesmerized by their obscene powers of destruction; then she lowered her eyes, letting them pour into the street.



She froze.



There, parked for anyone who was left to see it, was a black limosine. The black limosine. Her black limosine. "Son of a. . . ." Buffy whispered, feeling for the first time since this horrific night had begun, that she might actually be able to end it. Stop more people from dying. Stop the demons from killing. Stop Madrine. Period.



Heart racing, Buffy hefted her sword and started up the sidewalk, keeping her eyes pinned to the limo and her ears open to the rest of her surroundings. She hadn't gone more than fifteen feet, when she saw it. When she saw. . . her. Madrine emerged from the store, completely engulfed in fire and smoke; the flames licked at her skin and clothing, swirling around her, wrapping her in their embrace.



But she did not burn.



Buffy's mouth fell open, her feet turning to led. She shook her head, a tremor of fear and disbelief and nausea coursing through her blood at the sight. "That's. . . ." Buffy couldn't find the words, or the thoughts, for what she was seeing. It went against everything that she had ever known as truth, as a human, as The Slayer. Fire burns. Fire kills. Fire burns and kills vampires. But there, thirty feet away stood the un-living contradiction to that truth.



Madrine walked through fire. Madrine was not burned. Madrine was not dead.



Buffy tried to reign in her feelings and emotions, tried to gain some kind of control over what was happening. And in those moments, those quick, frightening, unknown moments, other truths revealed themselves to her. Truths that couldn't be denied. At least, not until they were. Buffy quickly tossed her weapons in the air across her body, catching the axe in her right and the sword in her left; she hefted the axe once and took a running step, raising the weapon as she cocked her arm. Then, Buffy let go, throwing her arm forward with every ounce of Slayer strength she had, hurling the axe end-over-end down the sidewalk.



Towards Madrine.



***

[KrisBo5]

. . . two. . . one. . . . After what felt like a hundred years-- not ten steps-- Tara finally reached the corner. She stopped, her breathing fast and labored, her heart the same. All around her, Main Street continued to burn and fall, people running and screaming and crying. Her eyes skimmed along the melee until they passed someone who caught her full attention: a young, blonde-haired woman. No. The blonde woman. Tara corrected herself. The woman who decapitated one man's head and skewered another, was right there, across the street. And she was. . . . Tara's brow furrowed and she squinted her eyes, trying desperately to discern what-- exactly-- she was doing.



A glimmer of light glinted off something metal, and Tara knew. Her eyes opened wide as the knowledge hit her. . . . axe. . . . The woman's arm was just then swinging forward, the axe flying from her hand like a rocket. Tara's head whipped to her right, following the weapon's trajectory; her heart stuttered and her stomach fell as she saw the intended target.



Madrine. . . . "Madrine," she whispered, quickly raising her arm and holding her opened palm towards the woman.



***



Madrine paused just outside the store, feeling the heat of the fire enveloping her even as it was pushed away. Her dark eyes found Mr. Bellum's briefly before she heard a sound. . . .



Something like a whistle, a whizzing, dull-pitched whistle. She turned her head to the right, barely able to register the source of the sound, before it ceased abruptly. Madrine stared, wide-eyed, at the small, double-bladed axe suspended in the air.



Inches from her throat.



She stood frozen, perfectly still and stared at the weapon. And then, she slowly lifted her eyes, letting her gaze move past the axe, over its length, and down the sidewalk. When they at last focused, she found herself staring into the eyes of. . . . "The Slayer."



***



Buffy couldn't believe her eyes. One second, the axe was sailing through the air, sailing on target towards Madrine, and the next, it just stopped. Frozen. In mid-air. She met Madrine's eyes and held their blackened gaze. Her only advantage-- taking the vampire by surprise-- was blown; she knew now she would have to do it the old fashioned way. The hard way. The Slayer way. She switched the sword back to her right hand, clenching the hilt so tight her knuckles turned white.



***



Tara's heart felt like it was going to burst. Her whole arm trembled as she held it aloft, outstretched towards Madrine. The spell held fast, the axe airborne, but frozen, inches from Madrine. Thank you. . . . Her eyes pinged back and forth between Madrine and the woman as she tried to decide what to do next.



***



Madrine's eyes squinted at Buffy; The Slayer had, no doubt, been the one who had thrown the axe. She could see it in her eyes. But, who had stopped it? Madrine's eyes drifted from Buffy's, moving slowly away from The Slayer. They travelled the width of Main Street predatorily, slow and steady, halting as they reached the corner opposite The Slayer. There, alone and unharmed and beautiful; tall and sure and strong. "Tara."



***



Buffy halted her next advance. There was something in Madrine's posture, the shifting of her gaze. Buffy's Spider-senses tingled with it. She followed the vampire's line of sight, craning her head over her right shoulder. And, in that instant of looking, everything went quiet; silence, at last, had made its way back to Main Street.



"Tara," Buffy said, her voice barely a whisper. The Slayer's heart did a tumble as she found herself face-to-face with the blonde Wiccan. There. She. Was. "TARA!"



***



Willow's eyes opened. Buffy. . . ? Was that. . . Buffy? Arms still heavy, she managed to grab hold of the corpse's shoulders and give it one good shove; the body slithered over her slick shirt as she pushed, finally falling to rest beside the severed head. Willow moved her right arm across her chest, the sword still tightly clutched in her grip, and rolled onto her left side. Where. . . was that Buffy. . . yelling. . . for Tara. . . ?



***



Tara heard her name and turned her attention towards the caller. Who. . . ? How does she know. . . ? Tara's brow furrowed as her eyes settled on the young, blonde-haired woman she had seen commit murder just a short time ago. The woman who was now calling out to her, as if she knew her. . . .



From out of nowhere, a image came into her mind, caressing and warm and. . . familiar: her sitting on a couch, a kneeling woman weeping, begging her not to forgive her, her hands softly stroking long blonde hair, her whispered words of love and forgiveness. And then it was gone. Tara blinked, shaking her head as she tried to draw the images into a completed story. What's happening to me? Tara's concentration faltered, and she dropped her arm.



***



Madrine's eyes riveted as the axe abruptly fell to the sidewalk, clanking loudly against the pavement. Tara's spell had saved her. Tara had saved her.



"Madam."



Mr. Bellum's voice called out to her, breaking through her reverie. She turned to find him outside of the limo, standing beside the now-open back door. Madrine glanced quickly at Tara. Then to Buffy. And, finally, back to Mr. Bellum. She stepped towards the waiting limo.



***



Buffy's head whipped back to Madrine, her attention drawn by the sound and sight of the falling axe. She looked at Tara then, slowly feeling the tumblers fall into place. Tara had stopped the axe. Tara had used magic to save Madrine. Tara had saved her. The Slayer's heart again tumbled, but this time, not in joy. Why Tara saved Madrine, Buffy didn't know. It made no sense, and she didn't have the time to try to figure it out. The Slayer knew only this: Tara was alive. And this was her chance of making sure she stayed that way. Buffy faced Madrine again, full-on, and hefted her sword, watching as the vampire glided carelessly towards her awaiting limo.



Buffy ran.



***



Tara saw the woman raise her sword. And then she was running,. Tara was amazed at her inhuman speed as she sprinted down the sidewalk towards. . . .



No. . . Bu-- no. . . no, no, no! Tara stepped off the curb into the street, raising both hands up towards the woman. "L'arresto e fuori!"



Stop and away!



***



Buffy felt her body jerk to a halt and then the ground falling away from her as she was lifted off her feet and thrown backwards; she slammed into the side of a building, then dropped to the ground fifteen feet below. Winded and stunned, Buffy tried to gain her bearings as she watched the limo door close on Madrine's retreating figure.



"No!" she yelled, staggering slightly as she got to her unsteady feet, intent on stopping Madrine's escape. A movement to her right caught her eye; Tara was walking, coming towards her, hands raised to her and. . . .and an expression-- an expression like none she had ever seen before on her friend's face. "No!" Buffy screamed again. "Tara, no!"



***



Tara had reached the middle of the street when the woman suddenly stood up. How can she. . . . She still held the sword, and Tara could see, even from where she was, the determination written over every facet of her face. Tara bore down on her, feeling the magic well up inside her. Madrine. . . . She pushed her hands forward again, feeling the crackling energy explode. "L'ustione!"



Burn!



***



Buffy. . . . Willow lifted her head from the asphalt, managing to get her left elbow under her body and push herself up; she leaned forward on her arm, trying to eliminate the feelings of dizziness that assaulted her. She blinked several times, trying to clear her eyes. . . . screaming. . . . Willow blinked again as her vision finally cleared. . . . Tara?



A figure moved through the street. A woman. Her stride was purposeful. Determined. Her arms were raised, palms outwards as if warding off something or someone. Willow's heart hammered in her chest as her body began to shake. She knew this figure. This woman. She knew her walk and her expression and everything about her. She would know her anywhere.



"Ta--" she started, seized up suddenly by a smoke-induced cough. You're alive-- my Tara, my love. . . alive. . . . She pulled her legs up, forcing them to bend so she could get to her knees. Keeping her balance on one hand, she took a deep breath and tried to stand.



***



Buffy's arms suddenly soared with an invisible heat; she dropped her sword as a low, piercing whistle began, quickly growing louder as its pitch rose to an unearthly shriek.



Fez-shwoof!



Buffy's jacket burst into flames, the fire engulfing every inch of the leather material. The Slayer waved her arms frantically as the deadly flames licked at her face and chest and hands; she stumbled back against the wall trying to get away, feeling the fire begin to consume her.



***



Tara watched as the blonde-haired woman caught fire and lowered her arms. She felt the magic spooling away, fading as quickly as it had come. She watched as the blonde-haired woman flailed about desperately, at last pushing the last nagging images from her thoughts. No more. . . .



***



The limousine's lights flashed brightly, cutting a luminescent swath through the hazy, smoke-filled street. From her seat in the back, Madrine watched as Tara cast against The Slayer. The vampire laughed out loud, lacing her fingers together in macabre glee as the flames swallowed up The Slayer. And then Tara turned away, turned towards her.



Came towards her.



Madrine leaned back against the soft leather backing, keeping her eyes on Tara's approaching figure. She smiled. "Well, there you are. . . ."



***



Tara.



Tara-- her Tara-- was walking towards her.



Oh, Goddess. . . . Tara. Willow planted her right foot and grasped the sword in both hands; tip-end down, she used the weapon as a makeshift cane and pushed herself up to her feet. As her left leg straightened, she felt a renewed burning in the wound; she grimaced and pressed a hand over the injury, feeling the liquid warmth of her blood flow freely over her fingers. No pain. . . no time. . . .



Willow steeled herself against the ache, and took hold of the sword hilt again, leaning heavily on the blade to support her weight. "Tara," she called out again, taking a hesitant step. She can't hear me. . . she can't. . . .



***

[KrisBo5]

Tara watched the limousine's lights flash on and a small smile touched the corner of her mouth. She made it. She's okay. . . . Absently she tucked her hair behind her ear and started for the car.



***



Closer. . . hurry, hurry. . . . Taking another step, Willow felt her heart pounding ever more forcefully in her chest. Tara was no more than fifty feet away from her now. She can. . . Tara can hear me now. . . . Willow stopped, standing up as straight as possible. Taking a deep breath to call out, she was startled to see red lights appear just twenty feet from her. What the. . . ?



Willow squinted, trying to make out what she was seeing. Red lights. . . . The revving of an engine, and the shadowy glimpse of a very long automobile filled in the gaps in an instant.



A black limousine. Moving so slowly through the fire and chaos, completely untouched by the screaming and the blood and the destruction.



Willow blanched. No, Goddess, no. Tara's dream. The black limo from Tara's dream. Willow's stomach rolled, everything inside her screaming at her to do something. Willow saw the red tail lights dim slightly, and the limo was suddenly moving.



Moving towards Tara.



***



Tara saw the limo pull further into the street, moving slowly towards her. She dropped her hands into her coat pockets and sighed, walking leisurely, a feeling of happy satisfaction finding its way to her heart.



As the limo neared, Tara stopped and waited. The car braked beside her, and she watched as the backdoor opened. Glancing inside, Tara saw casually-crossed legs. She smiled, then pulled her left hand from the pocket to grab onto the door; she took a step towards the awaiting passenger.



"TARA!"



***



Willow thought she was going to die. Right there, right where she stood. She had managed to survive the night-- survive everything-- and she had found Tara. And now? Now Tara was actually going towards the limousine. This is not happening! This can not happen. Not again. . . .



"TARA!" Willow screamed, her lover's name tearing from her throat like a deathknell.



***



Tara was bending down to enter the limo when she heard a woman's voice scream out her name. The sound shook her to her very core, and she froze. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest; never had she heard such a sound, such a plea. What. . . . Her back stiffened as she pulled back and stood upright; hand still holding the doorframe, Tara slowly turned her head, looking to her right. . . . who is. . . .



There, just down the street, not more than forty feet away, a woman stood. Tara squinted, her brow furrowing as she tried to make out in clearer detail who the woman was. How does she know me? Through the hazy smoke and darkness, she quickly made out that something was wrong with the woman, she was limping as she walked, using some kind of cane to help her. As a patch of smoke cleared, Tara saw the woman a bit more: thin, not too tall, red hair. Red. . . hair. . . .



An image. Fiery red hair and emerald eyes.



A voice. I love you too, Tara.



Tara's heart skipped, then picked up an even more furious beat. Her hands tingled almost painfully, and from somewhere deep inside, an uneasy, disquieting feeling began to rise. There was something. . . . Closer. . . I need to see. . . .



***



Willow shook uncontrollably. Tara. . . stop. . . stopped. She watched Tara pause just before entering the limo and stand up. Then, she looked at her. She looked right at her. Willow saw in Tara's stance a certain hesitation, an indecision about what was happening, about what her next move should be. Even from that distance, she saw.



Tara. . . What are you doin-- why are you waiting? Willow forced her uncooperative body to take another lurching step towards Tara. Closer. . . closer. . . almost there. "Tara," Willow said again, thinking that saying her lover's name again would get her moving. Run! Run to me. . . come to me. . . .



A brief instant, a mere second, but Willow saw it. The slight tilt of the head, blonde hair falling over a shoulder, a hand dropping to her side, a step. . . .



Willow smiled.



***



That voice. Saying her name.



That voice. . . I-- I should. . . I. . . know that voice. . . .



Tara's head tilted slightly, her hair cascading over one shoulder as she stared at the redhead limping towards her. The blonde fought with herself, fought to draw out from the convoluted images a solid picture. . . .



. . . a name. . . .



Tara's hand fell from the doorframe to her side.



W-Wi. . . .



"Willow," Tara whispered.



And took a step.



***



Willow saw a hand snake out from the backseat in a quick flash, seizing Tara's wrist. She stumbled a step, catching herself before she fell. No. . . Madrine, Tara, no! "No! Tara!"



***



Tara stopped and looked down at the hand vicing her wrist. Her eyes travelled the length of arm, meeting Madrine's eyes as the vampire leaned outside the limo. "Tara," Madrine said, her tone low and firm. "We must go."



Tara blinked. Wh-- what. . . ? Go. . . but, what about. . . .



"No! Tara!"



Tara turned. . . . Wil. . . ?



"Tara," Madrine said, pulling just a touch on the blonde's wrist, forcing Tara to meet her black gaze. "Now."



***



Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen. . . faster, faster. . . Tara! Willow saw Tara look down, then into the limo. . . then at her. Oh, Goddess. . . . Then the limo. "Tara!" Willow took a hand away from the sword and raised it towards her lover, holding it out for her, to her.



***



Tara's eyes settled on Madrine's, holding them. What was I. . . .



Madrine released Tara's wrist slowly, instead turning it palm up. "Shall we go home now, Tara?"



Go. . . .



***



Ten, nine, eight. . . my love, Tara. . . touch you. . . take my hand. . . .



***



Tara felt everything fading. The images, the words, the voice. The confusion, the indecision, the fear. They were all going, all falling fast, all just drifting away. There was no need to struggle so hard, no need to fight to make sense of something that didn't make sense.



She could just go. . . .



Home.



Tara placed her hand in Madrine's.



***



"TARA!" Willow screamed. The door was closing behind Tara's retreating form, the blonde completely deaf to her anguished outburst. She dropped the sword and tried to run, her lumbering gait severely impeding her. She saw the red lights dim once again, and Willow half-jumped, half-dove the last few feet, throwing her body at the back of the limo; her hand caught on the bumper as she fell, and she felt herself being dragged as the vehicle started away. "TARA!



Her body slid over the biting asphalt as the limo slowly picked up speed. And Willow tried. She tried with everything she had inside her to hold on.



But, it was too much. It was too hard. And she was too weak. No. . . please, no. . . help me! She felt her fingers lose their grip, and she was falling again; her body skidded, then rolled several feet over the black-top before stopping. Dazed and battered, Willow raised her head, then pushed up on a bloodied elbow. The limo was gone, turning the corner at the far end of Main Street.



"TARA!" Willow screamed, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face.



Tara was gone.



"Baby. . . ." Willow's body gave up, finally collapsing on itself. She lowered her head until her cheek rested on the hot gravelly surface. ". . . please." She closed her eyes, thankful that utter darkness had at last come for her. Tara. . . .



"Willow!"



Her name-- it sounded so far away, so distant. It tugged at her, pulling her to dreaded awareness. Willow's eyes batted open, her vision blurred by tears and smoke. As she blinked into focus, a cli-clunk, cli-clunk, cli-clunk sound heralded a pair of black leather boots approaching her. They entered her field of vision and stopped mere inches from her face. Then, the owner knelt down beside her; she felt a hand touch her cheek.



"Willow?" Buffy's voice was breathless. "Will?" The pressure of The Slayer's touch increased momentarily, then shifted from Willow's cheek to her shoulder.



Buffy. . . . Willow barely managed to raise her head from the ground. "Bu--"



Buffy's hands grasped her best friend's shoulders. "Are you okay?" The Slayer helped her to roll onto her side. Willow tried to answer, but Buffy took one look at the mass amounts of blood covering her and blurted out, "Holy-- Jesus Christ! Willow, what happe-- are you okay?"



Willow coughed and pushed herself upright. She found Buffy's eyes, and slowly shook her head. No, no. . . I'm not okay. . . Not ever again She lifted a shaky hand and took hold of Buffy's wrist.



"What? Will, God--" Buffy stopped, her eyes widening. She squeezed Willow's shoulders tighter. "Where's Dawn?"



Oh, God, Dawnie. . . Buffy, I'm so sorry.



"Willow! Where. Is. Dawn?"



Still dazed and broken, Willow could only shake her head again, unable to tell Buffy that she had no idea where Dawn was. If she was okay. Whether she was even alive or not. She loved Dawn, but she couldn't bring herself to think about her; she couldn't think about anything. Everything else meant nothing. The only thing that meant anything was. . . . "Tara."



Buffy froze. "Tara? Tara has Dawn?" When Willow didn't respond, Buffy bent lower to look into her eyes; she gave the redhead a firm shake. "Willow!"



Willow's head snapped back on her neck as Buffy shook her; blinking several times, she finally forced herself to focus on The Slayer. Her eyes moved over her best friend kneeling beside her. Buffy wasn't wearing her leather jacket; Willow's mind processed the information almost as an afterthought, thinking in that instant that if it had been ruined, Buffy was probably pretty pissed. But then her gaze travelled over her throat and face; her brow crinkled at the sight of the red, blistered skin of her cheeks and chin and neck. Willow guessed the burns had to be second degree, and even with Slayer healing, Buffy was going to be hurting for a very, very long time. Maybe even permanently scarred. Oh, . . . Buffy. . . . "Buffy," Willow whispered, when at last she could speak.



Buffy just shook her head quickly, a silent 'not important right now' gesture. "Will. . . Will, is Dawn with Tara?"



Willow's expression was blank. Tara. . . "She's. . . gone, Buffy. She's gone."



Buffy's grip relaxed and her arms dropped to her sides. She stared at Willow, feeling the sting of tears she had held back all night long; her eyes drifted down the street, where Tara had stood as she cast against her, where the blonde had tried to kill her. "Dawn," she said, her voice cracking.



The two sat silently together, oblivious to the heat and smoke and death around them. Their pain and loss overrode any other emotion; it blotted everything else out, save their hurt.



"BUFFY!"



Buffy's head whipped around. "Dawn?" She rose to her feet in an instant, scouring the devastated street. Through the smoke and ash, Buffy could make out two figures in the street moving slowly towards her. "Dawn," she said again, her tears falling at last.



Dawn and Anya walked tiredly down the center of the Main Street, heading towards The Slayer with purpose. Dawn's crossbow hung limply in her hand by her side; Anya, armed with a short sword in one hand, and carrying a huge canvas bag in the other, walked beside her. The teen absently wiped her nose on the shoulder of her shirt, then smiled. "Buffy!" she called out again, as she watched her sister stand and turn in her direction. She nudged Anya gently and they both picked up their pace.



"Oh, God, Dawn," Buffy said, starting towards the teen before she caught herself and paused. She turned back to Willow and leaned over. "Willow," she said, holding a hand out to her.



Willow looked at Buffy's open hand but she couldn't quite connect what she should be doing with it. Every part of her body and mind and soul was paralyzed. She lifted her eyes to Buffy's and held them uncertainly. Buffy. . .



Buffy, even though all she wanted to do was run just as fast as she could to Dawn, saw in Willow's eyes the knowledge that Tara was gone. She could see the complete knowing of it wash over her best friend, shrouding her face with its finality. The green eyes staring up at her were blank and empty, any spark of hope or life completely and utterly crushed. Buffy squatted down, resting a hand on her shoulder; taking hold of Willow's hand with the other, she said, "Will, we gotta go."



A tear slid down Willow's cheek. Tara. . . . Her lower lip trembled as she squeezed Buffy's hand. "Buffy?"



Buffy nodded softly, her own tears filling her eyes. "I know, Will, I know." She started to rise again, gently pulling Willow to her feet after her. She wrapped an aching arm around Willow's shoulders and held her close, steadying the redhead as they began their walk.



Willow kept her eyes lowered to the ground as Buffy led them down the street. She held onto Buffy's waist like a lifeline. Tara was gone.



Tara. Was. Gone.



Tara had seen her. She knew she had, she saw it in her lover's eyes.



Tara had heard her cry out her name. She had stopped, she looked at her fully.



Tara had known her. She had smiled, she had started to come to her.



And then. . . .



A sob escaped from Willow, and Buffy's arm tightened around her. Tara. . . Tara. . . .



. . . she was gone.



TBC



Kris

"Frell that!"

[IsayAmberBensonsgorgeous]

Welcome back, dearest MOP.

I'll check in later after I read it.

C., proud member of The Tara Liberation Front

~ - ~ - ~

"Your shirt!!!! Ooops! If my arterial blood flows onto your shirt I'm so sorry, I'll get the dry-cleaning bill for that." - Amber Benson

"Henceforth, my minions will be known as Nipplets! We'll spread the gosple of Nippliture throughout the land of Nippledom!" - Ooffy

[Puff]

Bloody Hell...



Wow...



Holy crap!



Great to see you back Kris (hugs), that was some update. Dark and angsty is an understatement I think though, halfway through I was kind of glad that I didn't eat breakfast. You do manage to conjure up images so well with your description.



I can't wait to see where this is going and what happens next, Tara is definatly under Madrines thrall or something. I am glad most of the scoobies are still alive, where's Xander? He was kind of left hanging



Thanks for the update, nervously awaiting more and feeling the strong need to be hugged.

---

So, the day started and I knew my name and had my pants on. So far, so good. Yay.
Amber Benson

[KrisBo5]

C, thank you -- took long enough, but yes, here I am. Hope you like & thanks for holding up the TLF!



Puff, you're funny, don't you know breakfast is the most important meal of the day? Yes, I think it's safe to say that Madrine's 'got' Tara in some fashion. As for Xander, well. . . . you'll have to wait and see; hopefully it won't take so long next time, huh? Thanks for still reading, and, oh, here you go: *BIG HUG*



Kris

"Frell that!"

[Domaris]

Hey!

I just read the whole thing (well the story, sorry I didn't read all the posts ) and after all this angst I'm in serious need for W/T happy moments! eheh



So, looking foward fore more!

"Rock my world!" - Gia

"Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way, you'll be a mile from them, and you'll have their shoes!" - Somebody

[barnabasvamp]

Oh MOP !! You did come back, and with a vengence I must admit!



Your detailed descriptions are awesome, makes me feel like I'm running down the street with them. You can almost feel the pain and anguish!



You promised me more angst *whew* did you deliver!



Poor Willow. To see her love, know that she did recognize her even if only for a moment, and then watch her be taken away yet again.

I'm thinking that Madrine is in serious need of a good thrashing



Excellent, and worth the wait.



Now waiting for the next update to ease the anxiety! Please?

Jean

"When choosing between two evils, I always like to take the one I've never tried before"-Mae West

[4WiccanLuv]

Hey Kris!!



I read a bit at work, but kept getting interrupted...could you believe that?? Anyhoot, what I did read was explosive and so incredibly angst ridden! *sigh* I'll reply as soon as I can! Great to see you back!



BTW, nice title, coz I was sure the heck coming undone while reading! Eek!!!



Linda

_____________


"Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, to assure the survival and success of liberty." - John F. JFK

[KrisBo5]

Domaris, well, thank you for reading my story(even sans posts, hehe). And, don't I know it! I need som W/T goodness after all that, too! I think you'll have to read Insight for that. Again, thanks for reading!



Jean, hey, girl, why thank you very much. I'm happy you think it was worth the wait, eh-hem, I mean waaiiitttt. Hehe. It was a long time a-comin, I know. As for the next update, well, you know how that goes, but I will try to get it out there a little quicker. As always, you and the other DF Harassers are the best. Be talking to you. . . .



Linda, people interrupted you while you were reading? The nerve! Glad you "liked" what you did get a chance to read, though. Looking forward to hearing more of what you think. You DF H'ers are tops!



Kris

"Frell that!"

[vmpIrslAr]

Wow! I've been away for quite a number of weeks due to exams and my not so new now gf. Both have kept me rather distracted from my reading obligations on the board. But since my gf is away for a week and school is out for the summer I thought I should return to my reading pleasures.



Anyway, I was very pleased to find the next installment of your fic Kris. Very dramatic cliff hanger there, I only hope you will update faster this time as I await another riveting chapter of the story

VmpIrslAr out.






"she's my everything."

[hermitstull]

That was awesome, simply, awesome.



The vivid dark images of Sunnydale on fire, of the Scoobies fighting and loosing, but never giving up the fight. I could smell the smoke and see the flames.



And what a fantasic image, at least in my head, of Willow staggering towards Tara, who seems to remember her yet turn away at the last moment. Heartbreaking! Now that's how you do angst.



I'm so glad that you're back with this story. It's really worth the wait between updates because each one is such high quality.



I eagerly look foward to more-

hermitstull

"I was feared and worshiped across the mortal globe. At now I'm stuck at Sunnydale High. Mortal. Child. And I'm failing Math." Anya in Dopplegangland

[4WiccanLuv]

Yay, finally had a chance to read the update uninterrupted and may I just say, WOW!! Kris, this chapter was chock full of fast paced blood curdling action, major angst and a hell of a cliffhanger! You’re killin’ me!



I especially liked the car scene as the Scoobies arrived on Main Street. Your details and descriptions were so vivid, I felt like a passenger in the car! I love the way you captured their fears entering into the apocolyptic war-zone, yet you managed to convey their heroism as well. First, with Buffy jumping into the fray after witnessing the brutal torture of the burning woman. She just snapped and couldn’t take anymore, then just charged in, that’s what real Slayers do, IMO! In this story, Buffy isn’t the Slayer that we were given for the last to seasons of the show, this Buffy, I respect and love! For that matter, nor were the Scoobies. I’ve told you before, I love your characterizations, they’re dead on! These are the characters I know and love! Woo Hoo, go little Dawnie, she rocked in this update. She had to remind Willow of the job they do and risks they take willingly because they choose to. It was a very touching scene. And what’s become of poor Xander? He was saved by Tito, momentarily it seems. Tito was a nice touch, BTW! Still, it’s not looking good for ol’ Xander.



And I’d love to know what’s up with Tara? She is definitly under some sort of trance or spell. La la la...I think I’ll shop while Main Street burns. I found it odd that when she realized what was happening around her, she didn’t react. In her mind she wanted someone to help the victims, but did nothing. Yet, when Madrine’s life was at stake, she performed some serious magicks! That damn evil Madrine, what the hell did she do to her?? And could you break my heart more? Poor Willow, watching helplessly as Tara left her of her own will (sort of). After the limo disappeared and Willow was sobbing and dumbfounded, had I been Buffy, I think I would have smacked her around a bit! I seriously can’t wait for Willow to get her groove back on and bring that bitch, Madrine down!



Thanks Kris, I so love this story! You’re the best!



Linda

_____________


"Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, to assure the survival and success of liberty." - John F. JFK

[KrisBo5]

Finally got to catch my breath and respond to you all. . .



vmpIrslAr, well, well, well, at least you were away for a couple a good reasons, right? Hehehe. I'm glad you were able to catch up with the board and DF. It was a long time in the coming, and angsty, but well, it is called Darkness Falls. And, I know, I know, I, too, hope that it won't take so long this next time. I'll try, I promise. Thanks for reading!



hermitstull, aw, thanks, *blushes* Glad you liked it. I don't think that I'm too well versed in descriptive narrative, so I'm very happy that the Main Street stuff worked so well for you. And Willow, stumbling to Tara, I really did try to make that heartwrenching, so again, glad that that worked -- I mean that in a good way, ya know, not that I'm glad I wrenched your heart or anything, just. . . Oh well, you get it. I'm hoping the next bit won't take quite so long to do, but it is angsty as well. Hmm. . . . . Thanks so much for reading.



Linda, woo-hoo, you got to read it uninterrupted. Party-time! So, then, thank you, though sorry about the "killin'" you part, but you know how it is. MOP has to live up to her reputation.

The Jeep scene was interesting to write. I had this idea of a 'fishbowl' or 'other side of the mirror' thing in mind when it started, and when I was writing the Tara/store scene, they almost became reflections of one another. The Scoobies in the Jeep, wanting to help but paralyzed; and Tara, wanting to help, but paralyzed. And then Buffy snapped, in true Slayer fashion, while Tara 'snapped' in her own way. I wanted my Buffy to be brave and heroic, so that's how I've tried to write her; glad you like her, too. As for Dawn, I was just sooo disappointed with her character development on the show that I wanted mine to be different, more similar to the Slayer. After all, she was made from her blood, right? She echoed Buffy's sentiments about what they have to do, as part of their choices to fight evil, and I think that shows that she's a) growing up, and b) very much the Slayer's sister. At least I think it does, what do I know, really? Xander, huh? Yes, well, what has happened to poor Xander? Rest assured, I meant to leave his whereabouts and howsabouts out of the end of this; his fate will be revealed in the next segment.



Tara. Hmm, everyone is totally bewildered by her behavior. A trance or spell is as good of description as any at this point; pretty sure in the next segment(or the next after) will reveal what it is exactly that's happened to her. It was meant to be strange that she was peacefully oblivious of Main Street burning and people dying and such, then totally appalled by what was going on, but didn't(or couldn't?) do anything in the end -- except to 'save' Madrine. Does Tara know who she is? Does she know what Madrine is? Does she remember The Scoobies? Why is she acting so weird? And Willow, again having her Tara 'taken' away from her, breaking down and being broken; anst and heartbreak to be sure, but don't fret, your Willow will definitely step up, as will The Scoobs. Remembeer, I promised. . . . Glad you're still liking it!



Thanks all for reading,

Kris

"Frell that!"

[xita]

Wow, kris, this was pretty intense. There really isn't a darker fic here. The thrall, or whatever it is, so not down with it. It's a good sign that Willow sort of got through, but not quite enough. I know that Tara sort of gave herself over to protect Willow, I wonder what she'd think of her decision if she saw what the scoobies went through in this update. Take your time Kris, whenever you get it done you'll have your readers!

- - - - - - - - - - -
"The suspense is terrible. I hope it'll last."

-Willie Wonka

[singgirl]

okay, Xita said it better than I ever could. So, bravo and more!!

Pax! -Bev

[KrisBo5]

Yipes, finally! At last, able to find the board again(thanks, xita!).



Xita, now that I am actually able to get on the site again(computer-challenged I am) I can respond to your post. I was going for intense, this is true. It has worked pretty much the way I wanted it to. That's fortunate for some, unfortunate for others -- depending on where you stand, I guess. It is dark, I know, and maybe a bit hard to read for some; the writer in me takes it as a compliment that it is the "darkest" fic on the Kitten. There is more dark to come -- as this is a grand-scope sort of story; again, good for some, not so for others.



The "thrall" as many have named it: yes, it is a not-so-good thing. There are reasons why Willow could get "sort of" but "not quite enough" through to Tara. It is revealed in the next bit.



Tara's self-sacrifice for Willow's life and the after-effects of that choice are not finished with. And she WILL know what the Scoobies went through because of that choice, as well as on Main Street.



I'm glad to know that you think that "if I write it. . . readers will come." I hope you continue to be one of them. Thanks for reading, xita!



Bev, hey stranger, you say things well enough, don't sell yourself short! More on the way.



Kris

"Frell that!"

[Still Waters T]

Hey Kris I don't think I've replied to this fic yet, but I've read the whole thing. The scene where the Scoobies think Willow is dying is soo intense. That huge weight on your chest, that feeling like your world is crashing down around you, the detatchment (you feel slightly outside of this world, slitghly out of fase). You've got the whole grief thing really working for you here. Great work! I've read Willow's "death" scene three or four times, and every time I feel tears coming.



The scenes between Willow and Tara, when they had the house to themselves, were hehe, hot!



Liv Berit

[singgirl]

Heya Kris!

I was wondering if there was an update in process or something, ya know, a little somthin to help us poor kittens out? Sorry, I'm still a harasser at heart

Pax! -Bev

[TemperedCynic]

Kris,



Many Kittens are averse to angst in the Pens. I can clearly understand their reasoning. Angst and sorrow are part of the writer's palette, just like comedy, romance and smoochies. Can't forget smut, of course. A writer's ability to blend these verbal shadings creates multi-level and complex characters. They read like people we see every day in real life. When the reader makes that connection, the writer is assured of a job well done. Published writers get royalty checks, scriptwriters get to write for another week (plus the paycheck) and Pens writers receive feedback.



I'll start with my thoughts on Undone(B).



I have rarely read a more compelling scene. Since Willow's birthday at the Bronze and Buffy's subsequent dreams, the story has been moving to this confrontation on Main Street. And may I say, you did not disappoint in the delivery.



Hell has come to town. Flame, smoke, destruction, agony and death. And our heroes walk into the heart of the beast – it's what they do. Were they ready for this battle? Probably not, but they were tired of waiting and researching. The fight rages, combatants are bruised and beaten – no one leaves unscathed, even those leaving with no physical wounds like Tara.



So the Scoobies return home to heal. And ponder what to do next. Madrine remains confident, both in her power and her control of the situation. However, this battle placed a chink in her impervious armor. No one has rattled her this much. Ever. Hopefully, this may give the Scoobies the opportunity they need. If Madrine makes a mistake in judgment, the Scoobies will drive a truck-sized wedge between her and Tara. Then, watch the fun!





Darkness Falls combines great comedy with heart-felt angst-y pain. These Scoobies are detailed in rich tones. Their sense of family guides each interaction. Sure, everyone argues and fights – feelings are hurt. When needed to stem the tide of evil, they remember their bond to each other, and are stronger in that knowledge. By this dynamic alone, Madrine has already lost because the Scoobies will always keep coming.

No matter the odds.



I should have left feedback before, I know. I've been a fan of this fic for some time.

May you find the time to complete this epic.

---

More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other, to total extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly. Woody Allen (1935 - )

[KrisBo5]

I'm a lazy-ass loser! Sorry I haven't responded before now. . .

so away I go!



StillWaters T,

Hey, girl, like I said in chat, thanks so much for taking time out to post a response to Darkness Falls. It seems strange, morbid even, to say I'm glad that the Willow "death" scene and hospital scene got to you. As they were supposed to. As for the W/T lovin', aw, gee, thanks. *blushes.*



Bev, well, you know me. . . The more the pain, the more I love it. Seriously though, trying my best to get something up here soon. Maybe a small, small preview. If you're good. . .



TemperedCynic,

Wow, where to start. I guess with your assessment of angst and Pens.



As you said, it does seem to create a stir whenever angst appears in Pens, and with good reason I suppose. It is always hard to see people -- in this instance, characters(Willow, Tara, Scoobies, etc.) -- suffer in any way. Yes, it is a part of life and it does make characters and stories more complex and three dimensional, but it hurts us just the same. It is, in it's fictiony way, "life" and it's not always easy.



No, the Scoobies were not exactly ready for what they found on Main Street. They were expecting "something," as they always do living on the Hellmouth. But, their "enthusiasm" to fight the good fight is often hampered by their overall lack of patience in and knowledge of a situation. This scene tried to showcase this, as well as getting them all to a place of hollowness and desolation; I needed to have them "broken," I needed them "undone." As individuals and as the Scoobies. I'm not done with that part yet, either, so look out.



Madrine. She is a consternation to me at times. I want her to be many things: evil, sexual, powerful, ruthless, sad, on and on and on. She is a complex character to write, as much of who she is is "created" by those around her. She hasn't truly shown what she can do yet, only glimpses of what she is capable of. But, yes, she does have "chinks" in her armor, she is not "impervious" to everything. And that which she seeks to destroy, and the means by which she desires to do so, may in fact be her own undoing. We shall see.



It has been my hard effort to make the characters multi-layered and like the ones on the television show. But at the same time, I have striven to make them more then they were there. What I wanted them to be. What they should have been all along. Whether at the end of this opus I succeed is still to be seen, but I hope. . . I hope.



It matters not to me that you didn't respond earlier. . . Only that you have. I hope that you continue to do so. I will look forward to more of your wonderful feedback. Thanks for reading. . . and don't worry, I'll finish it.



Thanks to everyone!

Kris

"Frell that!"

[barnabasvamp]

Darn, thought we had an update from the most delinquent MOP!!



Can't blame a girl for wishing!!

Jean

"When choosing between two evils, I always like to take the one I've never tried before"-Mae West

[KrisBo5]

Jean,

Sorry to you and to all the other patient Kittens. Not trying to be cruel or teasy. . . hopefully soon. As always, I remain your "delinquent" MOP.

Kris

"Frell that!"