by AntigoneUnbound » Thu Jul 10, 2003 10:53 pm
Gods Served and Abandoned
Disclaimers:
Haiku for Our Heroines
You have abandoned
She whom you first created.
And where is "Firefly"?
Spoilers: Up to season 5. I’ve played slightly with the timing of a certain Big Bad’s appearance, with some implications for Dawn’s entrance.
Rating: R for now; if it changes, I’ll give heads-up.
Distribution: Sure, with acknowledgement.
Feedback: Oh yeah…bring it on!
*****
Part 35
*****
"A chat…OK, chatting is nice." So managed Willow after narrowly averting death and dementia.
"You know what’s even better?" Tara amended. "A lengthy narrative in which you explain what in the goddess’s name just happened."
"Actually, I sort of envisioned a cathartic, bonding discussion," Beverly suggested. "A little ‘Steel Magnolias,’ a little ‘Ya-Ya Sisterhood…"
"Feel free to use the term of your choice," Tara replied through clenched teeth. She felt as if she were riding some surreal emotional Tilt-a-Whirl. She knew that something supernatural had just taken place between her aunt—who had so vehemently denied the existence of demons—and a hell god. She knew that her aunt had somehow managed to frighten or at least deter that hell god, though she had no idea how. Eclipsing everything, though, was the knowledge of just how close she had come to losing Willow. Would she have been able to save her, if Beverly hadn’t arrived? Because Beverly had saved Willow—saved them both—and Tara knew that that fact would carry greater weight than any other information she might learn.
In short, she was grateful, relieved, anxious, and very, very curious.
"OK, Sweetie," Beverly capitulated, reaching out to squeeze Tara’s shoulder. She seemed to think better of the move, however, and withdrew her hand. "But not here. People don’t stay clueless forever, even in Sunnydale."
"You’ve noticed that, huh?" Tara asked, catching her aunt’s bemused gaze.
In less than half an hour, they were sitting in Tara’s dorm room.
"So…you two are involved with Glory, eh?" Beverly began without preamble.
"Not romantically," Tara replied, feeling an inexplicable urge to stall. Was she afraid of her aunt?
"Right, because threesomes…not so much our scene," Willow added.
"But you know she’s a god, of the hellish variety. And did you learn this by watching the Discovery Channel?"
"No, we read about it in the National Enquirer," Tara countered. "How did you make the nice lady’s acquaintance?"
Beverly looked at her through narrowed eyes. "You don’t trust me, do you? You want to, but you’re not sure what just happened. You want me to go first."
Tara met her gaze evenly. "Can you blame us?"
They exchanged a long look. Finally, Beverly sighed. "No…I don’t blame you at all. And I will tell you. It’s just that—what happened this afternoon, finding out you two have even heard of Glory, much less have cause to interact with her…Believe me when I say I’m as shocked about you two as you are about me." She fell silent again.
Willow blurted out abruptly, "We fight the forces of darkness—typically vampires, but also demons of all other varieties." She had apparently decided to offer up some information as a show of good faith.
Beverly looked at her, a delighted grin slicing across her face. "So you’re the good guys."
"Two of them," Tara granted.
"And I’m one of them," Beverly promptly replied. "Please believe that. And please understand when I ask you to explain this to me—how you’re involved; what you do. I swear to you, Tara—I will tell you what you want to know. But I need some context here; I need to know the cast of characters."
Could she possibly be working against us? Am I so glad to have a real family member close to me that I give her what she wants, even if it’s a huge mistake? Without realizing it, Tara closed her eyes; tried to anchor herself and gain even a whisper of intuition.
From the swirling eddy of fears and uncertainties, she became aware of one thing above all others: Willow was holding her hand. Willow, her rock and her one abiding truth, held Tara’s hand tightly in her own. Looking into Willow’s eyes, Tara saw that her beloved was ready to take the chance, to share their secret with Beverly. And Tara knew that had it not been for Beverly, she wouldn’t be holding Willow’s hand right now.
That has to count for something.
"OK. Honesty in exchange for honesty." She drew a deep breath. "Willow and I are witches. Good ones," she added.
"‘Good’ as in ‘Glenda the Good Witch,’ or ‘good’ as in ‘we’re good at what we do’?" Beverly asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Both," Willow replied. "We work for good, and as far as workin’ the mojo—we pretty much kick ass."
Beverly smiled at Tara. "You get that from Julia, don’t you?"
Tara fought against the tears gathering suddenly behind her eyes. "You knew Mom practiced?"
"I knew Julia had something extra going for her. Her essence was just radiant. Like yours," she added, this time letting herself squeeze Tara’s hand briefly.
Tara only nodded, willing herself to speak with a steady voice. "Willow and I met at college. She’s been involved with Buffy for almost five years now."
"Not romantically," Willow clarified helpfully.
"Right," Beverly nodded, grinning once again at Willow. "Let’s just assume that ‘involved’ doesn’t carry any erotic implications in this conversation." Looking back at Tara, her voice grew serious. "What does Dawn’s sister have to do with any of this?"
Dawn’s sister?
"She’s the Vampire Slayer," Tara replied.
Beverly’s eyebrows shot upward. "The Slayer? Oh my God…of course." She nodded in admiration. "That was brilliant—absolutely brilliant…" She looked past Tara, seemingly lost in her own tangled reality.
After a few moments, she met Tara’s gaze again, a troubled expression in her eyes. She seemed to fumble for her words, as if afraid that any miscue might have dire consequences.
"And how—how does Dawn fit into all of this?" she finally asked.
Tara looked quickly to Willow, whose eyes confirmed what Tara already believed: that this information wasn’t theirs to share. But how to avoid that topic without arousing Beverly’s suspicions?
"Dawn? She’s just the Slayer’s younger sister," Willow supplied. "Precocious; occasionally obnoxious. Prone to mood swings. Has a huge crush on Tara."
"Thanks for sharing," Tara managed through her flaming blush.
Beverly only looked from one of them to the other, her eyes telling them both that she was waiting for Act II in this story.
But Tara gazed back in turn, determined not to be intimidated.
Who’s going to blink?
"So…When Dawn’s not being a typical teenager, falling hard for my ever-so-humble niece, what does she do?"
Tara glanced at Willow, then replied, "Actually, I don’t know. I mean, she’s younger than us, so it’s not like we all hang out together on a regular basis."
Beverly shook her head, but her sigh of exasperation was mingled with admiration and affection. "Tara Maclay, you are an abysmal liar, but I sincerely respect your integrity."
"What are you talking about?" Willow demanded.
Beverly looked at her for several seconds, as if deliberating some decision. And then she reached it. "OK—my turn. You two have been honest with me, and I appreciate it." She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "So…when Dawn’s not buying Clearasil or sneaking a look at your lesbian literature, does she ever—oh, I don’t know…open the portals between dimensions?" She leaned back, smiling in frank amusement at their stunned expressions.
"You know?" Willow finally spluttered. "You know Dawn’s the Key?"
Beverly nodded.
Tara looked at her closely. "You knew last night—at the pizza place. You spotted them before I had pointed them out, and I saw you react."
Beverly grimaced with self-recrimination. "God, I was hoping you hadn’t noticed that."
"You were staring at them, and you watched them walk away…but I thought you were looking at Buffy."
"And what—scoping her out?" Beverly asked, bemused. "No, it was Dawn. I felt her before I saw her. As soon as she entered the restaurant, I could feel her. I looked up, and I knew as soon as I laid eyes on her who she was."
"But how?" Tara demanded.
Beverly, though, either hadn’t heard her question or was pretending that she hadn’t. "Does she know? Dawn?"
Her aunt’s evasive maneuver hadn’t escaped Tara’s notice, but she let it go for now. "Yeah. She just found out a couple of weeks ago."
"Poor kid," Beverly sighed. "God, that must have whacked her world right out of its orbit."
"Yeah, she had some issues," Tara commented dryly. "None of which were helped by her mother’s sudden death right after that."
Beverly looked up sharply. "Her mother’s dead? How?"
"Some kind of brain hemorrhage," Willow replied. "She fell into a coma, and Buffy and Dawn had to decide what to do." She drew a quick, shuddering breath. "It was so awful."
Beverly sat quietly for what seemed to Tara like a long time. Finally, she ran her fingers through her short blond hair and shook her head.
"So the monks sent her to the Slayer for safe-keeping. I gotta hand it to ’em…Those boys had shit for fashion sense, but they knew their way around mystical protection."
"OK, so the monk part isn’t news to you, either," Tara interjected. "Aunt Bev, are you planning on telling us where you fit into all of this?"
To her surprise, Beverly reached out and gripped her hands tightly. "Tara, Sweetie, first of all, I want you to understand something. I want you to know, beyond a shadow of a glimmer of a fleeting glance of a doubt that I love you. You’re my niece, and I would walk through hell to protect you."
Stunned, Tara only nodded.
Beverly released her hands, and sat back with an almost embarrassed laugh. "OK, that takes care of tonight’s Hallmark Moment."
"Aunt Bev, what is it? You can tell us."
Beverly smiled, seemingly more composed, and answered softly. "I know I can. You’re good, Tara…better than you know. You too, Willow," she added, looking gently at the other witch. She gazed at them for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was low and soft.
"As you know, Dawn is the Key that opens the door between dimensions. Glory wants her—needs her—to get back into her particular hell dimension. For Glory, this is about going home, although we’re not talking Waltons Mountain here. Glory’s little corner of the universe makes just about every other demon dimension look like Pee-Wee’s Fun House—minus the porn, of course. Glory isn’t really interested in dragging this world down into hell. But that’s exactly what will happen. The torment faced by every person—every living creature—on this earth will be unimaginable. Take your worst nightmare, and multiply it ten-fold. If you can’t imagine such a hell, count yourself fortunate."
She paused. Tara realized that she could hear her heart sledge-hammering its beat throughout her body.
"The monks knew that Dawn—the Key—had to be protected from Glory’s acquisition. And so they built in certain…safe-guards."
"Buffy," Willow said quietly.
Beverly’s laugh held little trace of actual humor. "Tara, you’re the English diva. Perhaps you noted the second plural in that sentence."
"Safe-guards," Tara echoed her aunt. "You’re saying the monks didn’t depend exclusively on Buffy to protect Dawn."
Beverly nodded. "Think about it. Here’s the one person—the one entity—who can unleash a literal hell on earth. I know Buffy’s good, and I’ll bet she’s downright amazing when it’s her sister she’s protecting…But if you were the monks, would you really want to put your hopes entirely and exclusively on one person, no matter how remarkable she is? For God’s sake—what if she got hit by a bus?"
"Finnish dryer lint," Willow commented randomly.
"Huh?"
"Don’t ask," Tara shook her head. "So you’re saying that the monks considered it too risky to pin all their hopes on one person—even the Slayer, protecting her sister—so they built in more than one means of hiding the Key."
"Right." Beverly stared hard at Tara, and Tara found that it was impossible to look anywhere else. She suddenly remembered her aunt’s words two nights ago, just before Tara had told her about Julia and Quinn’s affair.
This is really gonna fuck with me, isn’t it?
"And that’s where you come in, isn’t it?" Tara asked, finding it hard to speak around the thickening in her throat.
"Yeah." Beverly smiled sadly. "Tara, Sweetie—I’m one of the forces responsible for keeping Dawn safe."
Tara felt Willow’s fingers tighten on her own, and she held on desperately, afraid of drowning in terror if she were to loosen her grip at all.
"You? Aunt Bev, you’re supposed to watch over Dawn?" She shook her head. None of this made sense. It was impossible. "I don’t understand. How did you even get mixed up in all of this? How did you go from being a school-teacher in Dallas to being one of the people in charge of keeping a mystical key away from a hell god?"
Her aunt’s voice, to Tara’s ears, suddenly sounded so old as to be ancient. "I didn’t, Tara; not really." She drew a deep breath. "God, how do I even say this?"
She reached out and took Tara’s hand once more into her own, such that Tara was holding onto both her beloved and her aunt with a fierceness that would have surprised her before she met Willow.
"Tara, Sweetie—Dawn was created from energy; made flesh, made human, made real…to herself, to her family, to everyone who met her." She paused, then gave a sad attempt at a smile.
"We’re a lot alike that way."
*****
To Be Continued
*****