(Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters belong to Joss and all those other folks who, *bummer* aren't me. No need to sue, just read and enjoy!)
Chapter Seven
For a moment the car was quiet, the mild hum of the recording equipment just on the edge of hearing, shifting between being heard and unheard. Then Andrew leaned forward, his face crumpled.
"What are you talking about, Warren?" Andrew's voice was a shrill echo, bouncing around in the tiny cab of the Gremlin.
Even watching him in profile, Jonathan could see the brief flash of annoyance that crossed Warren's face, but as the man refocused on the image of the floating blonde, the creepy smile slipped back into place.
"It's very simple, Andrew. Killing Tara would be a waste." His voice was calm, but with a flat edge to it. Jonathan prayed silently that Andrew would rein it the hell in.
"Then what are we going to do with her?" Andrew murmured, flushed.
Warren turned toward them and hooked a thumb toward the screen. "What are we going to do? We're going to take her, numb-nut. We'll make sure that she uses her magic for us, and only us. If she can take down Rack, the slayer will be a breeze."
"What about W-about Rosenberg?" Jonathan asked quietly, still trying to get the memory of the little redhead's screams out of his head. "She's not just going to let us take her girlfriend."
Any hope Jonathan had of scaring Warren disappeared as the man began to cackle. "You saw her, she's just a burnt out junkie." Warren snorted with laughter, shaking his head. "What's the worst she could do?"
"But—" Jonathan and Andrew said simultaneously. The boys threw one-another a look, but Warren just laughed again.
"No buts, my boys. We're up." Warren opened his door and slid out of the car without a backward glance.
Andrew turned a doe-eyed gaze on Jonathan. "I don't understand," the blond boy said. "Warren told us that we had to kill one of them. That's why we brought Rack here. To kill one of them because they're too powerful together, because once one of them is dead we can kill the slayer."
Jonathan couldn't help but laugh at the pained expression on Andrew's face. "You realize you're talking about killing someone and all you're worried about is who Warren wants to bring along for the ride?"
"She's our nemesis," Andrew muttered. "We're not supposed to feel pity for our nemesis."
Jonathan laughed all the harder. "Do you really not get it?" Andrew just shook his head, lip quivering. "What isn't there to understand? Warren wants her, Andrew. The cataclysmic power? That's just a perk."
He leaned forward until their faces were just inches apart. Part of him desperately wanted to pummel some sense into Andrew, but how could he? He was just going along for the ride as well.
Jonathan shook his head and gave a sour laugh. "He wants her. And unless you want to break rank with your precious leader, you're going to help him get her."
Andrew threw open his door and stepped out of the car. As soon as he was free of the frame he slammed the door, hard. He was breathing so harshly so fast, that Jonathan could hear it, even from the other side of the car. After a moment the boy stuck his head back into the car.
"You're wrong you know," Andrew said firmly. "Warren has a plan to get rid of the slayer. She's just a part of the plan." He disappeared again, stalking off after Warren.
"I wish I was wrong," Jonathan muttered, staring at the image of Tara on the television screen. He thought about getting out of the car and running across the street to the Magic Box, of warning the Scoobies. After a moment he shook his head. "And I wish I weren't such a damned coward."
Jonathan sat with his head in his hands for a moment, and then went off to join his fellow villains.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Willow was on the edge of sleep. The warmth Tara's embrace, her lover's gentle rocking, left Willow feeling like she was caught on the tide of a sun-warmed sea. Tara's energy moved through her in the rhythm of the rocking, so that the water held her, lived in her, pushing back the darkness.
"Let go, baby." Tara's voice was soft, rich with love. "You can rest, I've got you."
"I want to watch you," Willow whispered. Tara was smiling down at her, golden hair hanging to frame both their faces. For that moment, they were alone—they were safe. "I never want to take my eyes off you."
"All right," Tara replied. She leaned over and pressed her lips to Willow's forehead, her corn-silk hair brushing the redhead's cheeks. "All right my stubborn girl. You watch me, and I'll watch you, and maybe we'll both fall asleep."
Willow closed her eyes as Tara kissed her again, moving from her forehead, to the tip of her nose, finally pressing her warms lips to Willow's mouth. She let herself sink into Tara's kiss, taking the blonde's lower lip into her mouth gently, releasing it to kiss the top tenderly.
"Every bit of you," Willow murmured against Tara's mouth. "I love every little bit of you."
"And I love every atom of you, Willow, every quark and lepton." Tara punctuated her statement with another tender kiss.
Willow smiled, felt her eyes well. "I love it when you talk science-y to me."
"Anything to get a smile outta my girl," Tara replied. She stayed curled against Willow, leaving their foreheads pressed together.
"Does your head still hurt?" Willow asked, even as her eyes fluttered closed, and then open again, voice going thick as she fought sleep. Beautiful, she thought, looking up into Tara's eyes. Like the sky on the first day of autumn—so clear, and so bright…
"Just a little," Tara told her. "It's getting much better."
Willow reached up to touch Tara's check. "Promise?" She asked. "It-it doesn't hurt?" Her voice was high, tentative.
Tara's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Helping me," Willow said, laying a hand against Tara's chest, above her heart. "It isn't, it isn't hurting you?"
"No," Tara kissed Willow again. "No, it doesn't hurt. I promise. You just rest, Will, rest and let me help you."
"I'm busy enjoying the view, remember?" Willow asked.
"Silly girl," Tara sighed, smiling.
Willow kissed Tara again, slowly, sweetly, reveling in the warmth, in the presence of the woman she loved so much. She could feel that same devotion in Tara, each embrace a silent vow that they would be together, protect and support one another, always.
"Love you, Tara." Willow said, stroking along the edge of her lover's collarbone. "I love you."
"I love you too." Tara replied solemnly. "And thank you. Thank you for loving me, for being the woman that you are, so I could finally know what true love is."
"I wish we could just stay like this, forever."
"I know," Tara sighed. "But I think the gang would miss us." Her smile broadened. "Besides, I think Anya's going to want her floor back eventually."
"We should talk to them," Willow said, trying to sit up. "You're right, we can't just stay here. We need a plan—"
Tara reached out with a gentle hand and pressed her backward, into the surety of her arms. "The only thing you need to do is rest. Buffy's got it." Willow opened her mouth and Tara shook her head. "She's the slayer, she'll figure out what we should do."
Willow bit her lip, then nodded. She would put her trust in them, in her family. Experience had shown her time and time again how much stronger they were together than apart.
Across the shop, Buffy was sitting next to Anya, fidgeting. Her legs were jumping like pistons, the fingers of her right hand tapping on the desk while she chewed on the cuticle of her left thumb. She saw Anya shoot a glance at her once or twice, and then finally the ex-demon laid down the book she was reading and gently pulled Buffy's hand away from her mouth.
"Self-cannibalism isn't going to help us in this scenario," Anya said gently.
Buffy tipped her head, brow furrowed. "I just wish that I knew what to do." She shifted her gaze to Willow and Tara, a tiny smile curving her lips at the sight of their tight embrace, at the sweet words they murmured to one another. "We have to help her."
"Xander will be back and he will bring good word with him," Anya said firmly, giving Buffy's hand an awkward pat. "Giles will know what we should do."
"I hope your right." Buffy stilled for a moment but then her legs jerked into life again. "That still doesn't explain Rack. Why did big, tall and scarred come here? Willow kicked her habit over a month ago."
Anya shrugged, but there was a funny look on the ex-demon's face, it wasn't guilt, or fear, but there was this tightness around her mouth, her eyes. Buffy realized that, for once, the woman was trying to hold back.
"You think it's bad, don't you?" Buffy murmured, she didn't want her voice to carry to the resting witches. "Do you think Willow lied to Tara? Is she using again?"
"No," Anya said. The stern admonishment in her voice surprised the slayer. "No I don't think that at all. And you don't either."
"I know I don't," Buffy replied, bowing her head. "I just don't know what to do, or why any of this is happening."
"It's happening because of that Ter Sis Animi thing," Anya said. "Whatever that is. But I will tell you one thing," she continued kindly. "I think Rack came because he could feel the change in Willow's magic. I think he could feel the darkness in her. If I'm right, then that means…" Anya trailed off, watching Willow and Tara.
"What does that mean?" Buffy asked, grabbing Anya's arm. "Anya, what does it mean?"
Anya turned her head to look Buffy in the eye. "It means that she'll probably keep drawing…things. We have to be prepared."
Buffy could imagine all too well what kind of thing would be drawn to the dark forces moving through her best friend. "What should we prepare for?" She asked Anya in a tiny voice.
"Anything," the ex-demon replied. "And since that's technically impossible, we should be prepared to move."
"Move?"
Anya nodded. "Yes, and to keep moving. The longer we stay in one place the more likely we are to draw some big nasty." She exhaled sharply. "I don't know about you, but I've had about enough of the big nasties for one day."
"Amen sister." Buffy put her elbows on the table and leaned forward so her chin was propped on her fists. "Amen."
Anya went back to pouring through texts, pages blurring as she looked for any reference to the rite that had apparently broken Willow even as it allowed her to save Tara's life. Buffy didn't move, just watched her friends in the yarrow circle, hoping that they could have a moment's peace, a moment's rest. The tap, tap, tap of her right foot against the tiled floor was the only sign of the nerves raging in her. After a few minutes Xander walked out of the hallway that led to the practice room, squeezing between displaced pieces of furniture. As soon as she saw him, Buffy sat up, giving Anya a gentle tap to get her attention. When Anya looked at her Buffy raised her chin toward Xander.
"So?" Anya asked as the dark-haired man took a seat.
Xander shook his head and Buffy groaned. "I tried calling every number Giles left for us," he said softly. "I didn't get him at home, so I tried a few local bookshops, even that pub he said we'd never reach him at unless it was Guy Fawkes Day."
"What about that coven," Buffy asked. "The one in Scotland with all those old lady witches he likes to hang with?"
Xander sighed. "I didn't get any answer there, and they don't have an answering machine. So I did the only thing I could, I called Giles at home again and left him a message."
"You didn't—" Buffy began.
"No details, Buff," Xander interrupted, nodding. "I know we can't chance the council finding out that our level five witches just leveled up a hundred-fold."
Anya snorted, rolling her eyes.
"What?" Xander asked, bristling.
"If their power had only increased to that degree, things would be so much simpler," she replied, sounding sad as she repeated, "So much simpler."
"I know that you're a thousand year old ex-demon," he said bitterly, "But that doesn't make you an expert on every situation. "If we can figure out what happened we can undo it. We can fix it." He turned to the slayer and forced a smile on his face. "Right Buffy?"
Buffy was staring at Anya. The bottle blonde was so solemn; she had spoken with such certainty, that Buffy felt fear twist her stomach. It was like being back in that hospital waiting room, when her mother…Buffy shook her head.
"Right, Buff?" Xander repeated.
"Right," Buffy said firmly. She wasn't going to loose any more of her family. "We'll get this figured out. We just have to wait to hear from Giles."
"Didn't you hear me?" Anya hissed, snapping her book closed. "We need to move, and keep moving."
"And we will," Buffy replied. "As soon as we talk to Giles. If we keep moving around, we won't have any way for him to reach us. We can't take that chance."
Anya opened her mouth to argue just as the door of the magic box exploded into splinters.
"Shit," Anya muttered, rising to her feet. "I wish people would stop breaking into my store!"
Buffy and Xander leapt a moment later, as Willow and Tara cried out in fear and surprise. There was something, something big, moving in the haze of sawdust left behind by the pulverized door. Anya and Xander held up their axes and Buffy slipped a stake out of her belt.
"It'll be all right," Tara told the trembling Willow. She held up her hand and called the chant to create a field and bar the doorway, but as Tara felt the power gather pain lanced across her skull, left her gasping.
"Tara?" Willow asked, sitting up and taking the blonde's face in her hands. "Baby, are you okay?"
"I can't," Tara said. When she looked up at Willow blood was trickling from her nose again. "I can't keep it out."
"It's all right," Willow soothed, even as she felt her guts tighten with fear. Help us, Buffy, she thought desperately. Keep Tara safe, because I can't—
The doorjamb groaned and creaked as two huge hands grabbed either side of the doorway and pushed. The hands were six-fingered, gnarled, with fingers that looked more like the branches of a withered tree than flesh and bone, ending in wicked three-inch talons. The skin on those hands was a dark grayish-brown, grooved and mottled like thick bark.
"I don't know what you are," Buffy said, stepping closer to the doorway. "But you should know I've had a really crappy day. The next butt that comes through that door is going to get soundly kicked."
The monstrous hands tightened on the woodwork, talons digging in and leaving grooves.
"Hey!" Anya stormed. "Enough with the structural damage."
"Ahn, I think a little wood replacement is the least of our worries," Xander squeaked as the creature moved into the shop.
The hands burst free of the wood, and long, thin arms snaked into the shop, a branching foot, each toe tipped with a yellowing claw. Buffy danced out of range of the long arms, her mouth falling open as she watched the huge beast contort, folding itself through the doorway.
"Ah crap," Buffy muttered.
The demon was so huge it couldn't even stand up straight inside the confines of the Magic Box. It towered over her, back and shoulders curved against the ceiling. The thing's head was a rough, spiked ball on top of its long, gangly body. Where it should've had eyes, a mouth, there were just dips that looked like burnt out holes. Still, it must've had smell, or sight, as it locked those charred hollows on Buffy and roared, a deep, low rumbling that rang with such force the slayer staggered back a step.
"Now I know what those chumps in Jurassic Park felt like when the T-Rex hollered at them," Buffy quipped. "And man, does your breath stink." The monster took a quick swipe at her and the slayer dodged, stabbing at its arm with her stake. The point snapped off, lodged in the creature's skin. "Any clues as to what this thing is?"
"Araucaria demon," Anya said. "Very tough, very short-tempered."
"Yeah I noticed that," Buffy said wryly. "Any clue how I kill it?"
"Carefully," Anya shouted.
Buffy sidestepped another swipe from the demon and launched herself into the air, delivering a donkey kick to the thing's ribs. The slayer felt like she'd propelled herself against a granite wall. The beast staggered, but didn't move a step, but Buffy was knocked onto her back.
"Any other advice?" She called.
"Don't die," Anya replied.
"Doing my best," Buffy muttered. She hopped back onto her feet. When the demon moved toward her again, Buffy dived into a tucked roll, burst back to her feet and lancing out, kicking at the back of its knee in a sweep.
The demon didn't budge.
Buffy spilled to the floor, gasping as the air was knocked out of her. The demon lifted its foot and pinned Buffy's leg to the ground. The slayer cried out, teeth clenched as the bones of her ankle were ground together.
"I'm comin', Buffy," Xander yelled, running toward the demon with his axe raised over his head.
"Xander, don't—" Anya cried, just as her ex-fiancé brought the axe down on the thing's wrist, lopping off its hand.
The demon shrieked, kicking the slayer away. Buffy rolled toward Tara and Willow, trying to slow her tumbling, but she smashed right into the protective barrier, sending yarrow branches scattering in all directions.
"Sorry," Buffy groaned to the startled witches.
"Buffy," Willow said.
"Are you oh-okay?" Tara asked.
"I'll be fine," Buffy replied. "But you two need to get out of the line of fire." She struggled to her feet, dusting her hands off on the back of her pants. "Grab a corner, okay?" She pointed to the far side of the shop.
"We can help," Willow began.
"Y-yes, we can," Tara agreed. She squeezed Willow's hand gently. "Right now we can help by giving her two less people to worry about."
Willow's lip started to curl into the beginnings of 'resolve face', but then she felt her frustration running like a ribbon down her chest, to the darkness curled in her belly. She sighed.
"You're right, baby."
As Buffy helped the witches to their feet, Xander was left staring at the demon. Thick white blood, like half-melted vanilla frosting, was pouring from the stump. Xander backed away and found a trail of the white goo still clinging to the axe, connecting him back to the demon's wounded arm. He yanked at the weapon but the blood just moved and stretched, he couldn't break free.
"Just drop it, Xander," Anya said, running up next to him. "Whatever you do don't touch the—"
The demon gave a tremendous yank and the blood connecting Xander's axe to the truncated arm contracted like a rubber band, yanking the man forward. The axe slipped from Xander's grip but he couldn't stop his forward momentum. He scrambled to stop himself from falling and reached out, his left hand closing around the demon's stump.
"The blood," Anya groaned.
Xander's hand was instantaneously coated in skin of the sticky, thick white fluid. He stepped backward, but a trail of blood still connected him to the beast. The demon raised its uninjured arm and Xander watched as talons came streaking toward his face. Before he could close his eyes and wait for the end, a slim, tanned arm shot past his face, reaching up to grip the demon's wrist.
"Get out of here, Xander," Buffy murmured as the monster roared again.
Tara and Willow made there way toward the corner of the shop, holding each other up, both women feeling weak and unsteady on their feet. When they were as far from danger as they could be inside the shop, Tara helped Willow to the ground, dropping to her knees and pulling the redhead back into her arms.
Buffy pushed a hand against Xander's chest and send him spinning back toward the research area. The quick movement broke the strand of demon blood, but his hand was still coated. Before he could reach out with his clean hand to wipe the stuff off, Anya grabbed his wrist.
"Don't touch it," she told him sternly. "And don't let it touch anything."
"What?" Xander asked. "Why? Ahn, it's demon blood, it's gross."
"Araucaria demons are called sap-blood demons, Xander," Anya said, her voice rough with anger and fear. "The resin sticks to anything that touches it. So if you want your hands stuck together while the big angry demon is running around, then fine, touch it. If you want to live, I wouldn't recommend it."
"No touchy," Xander said, holding his tainted hand up into the air. "Got it." Anya's widened as she gazed over his shoulder. "What?" He asked, and turned to see Buffy scooping up his fallen axe and moving back toward the monster. "Buff, don't get the blood on you," he called desperately, holding out his hand. "It's a trap!"
Buffy's eyes darted to the strange substance coating Xander's hand and she nodded, circling around the demon as it thrashed at her. She ducked and dodged around the attacks, reading the demon for any sign of fatigue or weakness. In an instant her experience and slayer instincts gave her the answer. Buffy rolled away from a vicious kick and slammed the axe into the floor, one half of the double-headed blade standing up from the tile.
"I'll fix that," Buffy called, hearing an indignant shout from Anya.
Xander felt a strange tingling on his hand. The demon's blood spread, expanded, until his hand and wrist were enclosed in a milky-peach ovoid sphere of resin.
"Uh, Anya?" He asked hesitantly.
"This is bad," Anya groaned.
"Over here spine-head," Buffy called, waving her arms at the demon. It roared again, lunging toward her.
As soon as it took a step forward, Buffy dashed between the demon's legs, moving behind it. She leapt up onto the demon's back and kicked off against the wall, forcing the thing forward. It reared back up, shaking as it tried to knock her off its back. Buffy curled her legs up and kicked off the wall again. This time the demon tumbled forward. It's head landed on the axe with a sickening thud.
"No blood on me!" The slayer crowed happily, standing on top of the dead demon with her feet spread and her arms thrown up in the air.
"Move!" Anya shouted.
Buffy looked down and saw the demon's head and neck had begun to swell. Before she could move, it exploded.
"Buffy!" Willow screamed, trying to stand.
Tara pulled her backward as thick white blood spattered in every direction. "I'll help her," she murmured to her lover. "But promise me, Willow, you'll stay right here, stay safe." She raised her hand to cup Willow's cheek. "And no magic baby, you can't. The darkness—" Tara paused.
"It's getting harder to hold back," Willow whispered, eyes shining with tears. "I know. I'm just…I'm just so scared baby." I'm feeding it, Willow thought to herself despairingly.
"I'm scared too," Tara said, kissing her quickly. "I'm gonna help Buffy, okay?"
"Kay," Willow said.
The blonde straightened and walked toward the crumbled grey chunks and bulbous, swelling puddles of blood that were all that marked the spot where the demon had died.
"Buffy?" Tara called softly, taking careful steps to avoid the sticky patches on the tile. There was no sign of the little blonde slayer. Goddess please, Tara thought. Please don't take her from us again.
"Tara, do you see her?" Xander called.
"No," Tara replied, shaking her head. "I could use a hand."
"We love to help you, Tara," Xander started.
"But we're stuck," Anya finished, fuming.
Tara looked over and saw that the sphere of resin on Xander's arm had grown to the size of a watermelon, wrapped halfway up his forearm. The weight of had pulled him over, leaving his hand stuck against the tile. And blood spattered from the exploding demon had hit Anya's foot, leaving her covered in goo up to her ankle.
"I'll h-help you," Tara said. "Just let me find Buffy."
As she spoke, there was a long whimper above her head. Tara looked up and a smile flared on her face. "Buffy!" She cried happily. "Are you okay?"
"I've had some sucky days," Buffy moaned, hanging from the ceiling, body coated in the viscous demon blood. "But this one is sucking pretty hard on the overall Buffy suck scale."
"We need to get you d-down," Tara replied. "Does Giles have a ladder?" When the slayer shook her head, Tara nodded. "It's okay. I'll find something."
"I'm afraid that's going to take more time than you've got."
Tara spun around. Warren Mears was standing in the doorway, smiling at her. He took a step into the Magic Box and she stepped back away from him. The man was holding a huge silver object, like a gun mixed with a rocket launcher, perched on his shoulder.
When the doorway was clear, Jonathan and Andrew walked out of the dark, struggling for a moment as they each tried to get over the threshold into the shop at the same time. Tara held up her hands, calling on her magic even as needles of pain stabbed into the back of her neck, and across her lower jaw. As her hands began to glow she felt a strange trickling down the sides of her neck, and wondered if she was bleeding from the ears.
"Tara!" Willow's voice was strident, panicked.
Stay right there, love, Tara sent, never taking her eyes off Mears. Remember, you promised.
But—Willow began.
Please baby.
Mears was still staring at her, a broad grin spread across his face. He looked so average, so, so harmless. But this was the man, the doughy little man, who'd robbed and maimed. And murdered, Tara thought. If it weren't for Willow, this man would've killed me today. The man that'd tried to kill Buffy.
"I won't let you hurt Buffy again," Tara said solemnly, holding out her hands toward the man that'd been her killer in another life. She forced herself to stand up straight, even though she could feel her arms and legs trembling with the effort.
Warren laughed. "Still feeling a little worn out from the big fight? Don't worry, the situation with Buffy's already taken care of." He waved his free hand toward the ceiling. "We've just got to make sure that it says taken care of. Jonathan?"
The smallest member of the geek trio stepped up, staring at the floor. Before Tara had time to move, he held up his hand and murmured a curse:
"Rutilus, duco nocens." Red-haired woman, draw the darkness as a magnet.
Tara's eyes widened and she cried out, turning toward her lover, toward her Willow. She called forth her shield and watched it flare into life around Willow in a blur of blue and honey, but as she gasped at a fresh burst of pain, the shield flickered and died. Willow, she sent, trying to hold back her fear, her despair. Get out, you have to get out of here, baby.
"Tara?" Willow asked, struggling to her feet.
Tara never got a chance to explain. The books on the shelves of the Magic Box's second story began to rattle and shift. As Willow watched, a slim volume slid off the shelf and hung in the air spine-up, the fluttering pages reminding her, strangely, of the hummingbird that she'd seen that morning, in another life. Was that really today? Willow thought. Is it possible? The book lanced through the air toward her face. She held up her hands to knock it aside, and instead felt the pages close against her fingers.
"What's happening?" Buffy called down to Tara. "Don't you hurt them, Mears," she growled, thrashing against her bonds.
"This is bad," Anya said, watching Xander straining against the weight of the resin blood encasing his hand. "The shop's getting totally wrecked."
"Ahn!" Xander shouted.
"Of course I'm more worried our friends, Xander," Anya said venomously. "But there's enough room in my heart to worry about the shop too!"
The front counter began to rattle as the items Anya tossed there began to move and shift. Willow waved her hands, trying to shake the book free, but the paper was clinging to her skin.
The darkness in her rose to meet it.
Willow dropped to her knees, screaming, as text began to flow up her hands. She felt her tie to Tara weakened, felt like she was drowning in her own body as the darkness fed. Willow heard her lover cry out, but she couldn't move. Another text came flying across the room and grazed her temple, sending her flat on her back. She heard the scrap, the rustle, of the book sliding back across the floor, as it brushed her cheek Willow shrieked.
"Willow!" Tara screamed as she watched the dark magic text lock on to her lover's hands. She moved to run toward Willow and felt an arm wrap around her waist, pulling her backward.
"Where are you going?" A voice whispered in her ear. Mears. "You stay right here with me." He laughed, and Tara almost gagged at the sour tang of his breath. "We're going to have loads of fun."
"Let me go," Tara fumed, stomping down on the man's foot. She watched, horrified, as a second book flew across the shop and knocked Willow to the ground, drawn back to settle against her cheek. Her lover was screaming and screaming.
"None of that," Warren snarled, taking the gun down off his shoulder.
Tara froze, afraid he was going to fire on Willow, that there would be nothing she could do to help her soul mate. But when Warren dropped the gun, he let it swing down until the muzzle pointed at the ground. Eight slim silver legs slid out of the barrel, spreading into supports like the tripod for a camera. Once the legs were spread Warren took his hand away, leaving the cylinder freestanding, a strange and insectile metallic thing. Mears began to push buttons on the top of the cylinder and Jonathan and Andrew drew closer. Tara began her struggles anew.
"Let her go, Mears!" Buffy screamed. "I owed you an ass kicking for trying to kill me, but if you hurt my family, I swear to god you get instant honorary vamp status. I will stake your ass!"
A strange purple glow began to emanate from the cylinder, sparks rising and flickering around Tara and the geek Trio.
"I said let go of me!" Tara screamed. She elbowed Warren in the ribs with all her strength. She had to get away from him. She had to get to Willow. Ever second more books were flying from the shelves; Tara could barely even see her love beneath the pile of texts. Far more horrifying was the fact that she couldn't feel her, couldn't touch Willow with her mind or her magic at all.
"And I said none of that," Warren snarled. He brought up a fist and clubbed the blonde as hard as he could on the side of the head. When the blonde slumped back against him a cruel smile twisted his mouth. She'd learn.
The purple field around them deepened. A hum began to rise from the strange machine, warring with the screams and shouts of the Scoobies as the struggled fruitlessly against the resinous blood of the demon. Tara heard it all as she leaned against Warren, playing possum, just waiting for her chance to break free. His blow had hurt, without a doubt, but Warren Mears had a long way to go before he could hold a candle to Donald and Donnie Maclay. The hum raised in pitched, the sparks around them linking, spreading.
"I'll bid you all a fond farewell," Warren said expansively. "Enjoy the effects of the Araucaria blood. It doesn't just spread—it hardens too. I understand the amber that it forms is very beautiful. Of course," he laughed, "You'll have smothered to death before that phase, so I understand if you don't appreciate the thought. You'll be first slayer," Warren said, looking up. "Enjoy watching each other die."
Warren took one arm from around Tara's waist, giving a mocking wave goodbye to the Scoobies. Tara took advantage of his distraction, shoving Warren backwards with all her might as she ran toward Willow. But when she reached the purple field she began to burn, jerking back with a scream. She bowed her head, gasping, felt like she'd been electrified. Arms shaking, Tara held herself up with her hands propped on her knees. Her hands. Tara gasped as she held a hand up to look at it. Her skin was translucent, suffused with the purple light. She could see her bones, the fine networking of capillaries and veins beneath her skin.
"See, lovely? There's nowhere to go," Warren laughed. He grabbed her again. "Even if you could escape the field now you'd loose all cohesion, you'd disappear in a cloud of sparkly dust."
Tara struggled in his grasp. The humming rose in pitch again. She heard the tinkle of glass as the display cabinet beneath the register shattered.
"Time to go," Warren whispered. "Better say your goodbyes. You're never going to see these losers again.
Still struggling as she began to vanish into the sparkling glow, Tara wept, screamed. "Willow!"
Her shriek echoed even as she faded out of sight. Warren and Andrew disappeared in bursts of sparks. Jonathan was the last to begin to break apart. Before he faded he reached out a hand and muttered a single word, napahu.
"No," Buffy raged. "Damn it, damn it, damn it."
She struggled with all her slayer might, but the resin held fast.
