Fighting Stances

Alena is dead at Willow's hands… and the rest of the scoobies are trapped inside their own minds, fallen prey to their very worst fears. Kennedy is their only hope. And she's pissed.

Now, when they were at their most divided after a recent debacle with the Witches, The First took its chance. Those that posed any kind of real threat were trapped in their own minds, their bodies lost to gut-wrenching fears… Now, all that was left was a bunch of little girls. They'd be dead within the hour.

Who am I? Kennedy thought to herself. Let's see, I'm more important than Vi or Molly… I run training sessions. I teach these girls. I used to mean a lot to Willow. But I wasn't important enough to the running of this place for whatever spell that got the scoobies to get me too. Wait, did I seriously just think that? Did I seriously just wish I'd been put under a 'make-your-worst-nightmare-come-true spell? For God's sake. No. She didn't wish she were under that spell. She just wished that someone, anyone – hell, she'd even take Tara – were free of the curse too. She wanted responsibility sure, but this was a whole lotta responsibility! She was the strongest fighter left standing. Still, hopefully there wouldn't be anything to fight and she could get this stupid spell reversed. Hopefully before the scoobies – who she'd surreptitiously locked into the kitchen – killed each other.

Okay. Books. She could do books. Well, she could read anyway, so it was a place to start.

"My beautiful, little witch…" Dark Willow swayed her hips seductively as she walked toward Tara, her chest thrust forward and her eyes dark. "Oh wait," she uttered with a cruel laugh, "you're not a witch! Your power's all… drained." She laughed darkly. "I wonder where it went?" quirking her eyebrow, her face was serious but her eyes glinted with punishing laughter. Why was she doing this? How could she be doing this to her Tara? But she kept going, her mind separate from her body as she taunted the sobbing girl in front of her. She kept going, despite the fact that she was screaming.

Tara was being punished. For what, she wasn't sure, but she felt it in every fibre of her being. Her nerves were on fire, roaring to feel the calm ebb of the Earth's power that so permanently flowed through her. But she couldn't do it, couldn't summon a single drop of power. She raised her eyes to Willow's horrifyingly black ones. If she couldn't fight with magic, could she perhaps reason with the girl?

"Willow," she whispered, "Willow you don't want to hurt me…"

"Really?" Willow asked, crouching to meet Tara's eye level, "'Cuz I coulda sworn that's just what I was planning on doing!" She raised a hand to Tara's whimpering mouth, slowly running her finger across those red, full lips. The motion was so intimate… in any other setting Tara would have felt comforted, loved, aroused… but now, it was bone-chilling. But looking into Willow's black eyes, she relaised something. That wasn't Willow. Well, it was, but not really… she may not have her energy-sensing powers, but she sure as hell did know her Willow, and even evil, Willow's eyes didn't look like that. Even evil, there was a life behind her gaze. Her Willow wasn't there. Which made Tara feel a lot better about the next thing she did. Jumping up, she caught Willow under the chin with her knee, before stomping hard on her rib-cage and hearing a snap.

You see, everyone else was trapped. Tara was not. She may have lost all of her power, but she still had full control over her every action.

"Hello?" Tara whispered, grabbing the ringing phone. Willow was still leaning in the doorframe, watching in mild interest as she healed her own broken bones.

"Tara?" Kennedy said, taken aback.

"Kennedy?"

"Tara, oh God! You're not all… succumb-y like the rest of them!"

"Huh?"

"There must have been a spell or a curse or a… something… because everyone's gone totally psycho! They're not themselves any more, it's like serious nightmare-dale over here and Willow's apparently gone all evil and oh God, Tara I don't understand magic, you have to help me reverse the spell!"

"Kennedy…" where would she even begin? How do you tell someone who is relying on you so completely that your power has vanished? "Kennedy," she began again, "I-I-I-I-I-I…" she took a deep breath and felt a pang deep in her stomach, "I-I c-can't." And she hung up the phone.

Who needed the bitch anyway? Kennedy put the phone back on the hook with shaking hands, her stomach doing backflips. She could do this, right? Tara wouldn't help her… but she didn't need the stupid witch. She'd be just fine on her own. People believed in her. Buffy did. So did Oz and Spike. And Willow used to… Kennedy, taking a steadying breath, walked through into the living room, where all the girls were crowded, conspiratorially discussing something. When their leader walked in, they all abruptly shut up, looking far too attentive for a bunch of teenagers.

"Look guys…" Kennedy began, but before she could continue a high, resounding scream pierced the air. Vi was crouched against the back wall, her hands over her pixie-like face as she sobbed.

"Leave me alone!" She howled. "Get off!" Her legs struck out as she tried to kick away whatever was tormenting her. Slowly, she raised her head, her red hair falling away from her eyes as she glared stonily at the air in front of her. "You're not him," she whispered. "He couldn't do this to me," and she stood and ran from the house, straight into the welcoming arms of the night.

"Violet!" Kennedy screamed, running after her… but catching an upset teenage girl was a task and a half… add uber-fit potential slayer and you're pretty much screwed. "Don't you dare move a muscle!" Kennedy growled at the remaining girls before grabbing her coat and running out into the night, in pursuit of entirely the wrong red head. She pulled her coat on as she ran, slowing as she struggled to get it on. It was too small… it… it wasn't hers. Oh God. She slowed to a standstill, pressing the black fabric to her face and inhaled a faint, sweet scent. A scent that was fading. A scent she'd never smell again… strawberries and spices. So very, very Willow. She let out an angry, tearful scream, stamping her foot and throwing Willow's coat to the ground and dropping to her knees. Who was she kidding? She couldn't break this spell, couldn't protect these girls from the first… hell, she couldn't even hold onto a girlfriend. She was useless. And because of that, another girl was going to die on her watch. She sunk down so that she was curled in a ball on the road, her knees on the tarmac and her face in Willow's coat. She let her tears flow. She let herself show how weak she was. How much one woman had hurt her. How desperately lonely she was. Kennedy was still wallowing in her pity-party when she was roused by the single most adrenaline-inducing sound in the entire world. A long, keening scream. That was enough. She stood, purposely tearing Willow's coat in half as she rose, and ran down the tarmac at a speed that would rival Faith's.

She was a coward, a stupid, useless coward. Tara was sitting, back against the wall, under the phone table in the mansion in London. Alena was dead and spell-evil Willow was eyeing her with muted interest from the doorway. Tara had defined herself by her witchcraft for her entire life, and now it was gone. Just, gone. Cold turkey, no ease-out, nothing. Gone. No one should have to stop like… Oh Goddess. Oh Goddess. That's exactly what she'd done to Willow. She'd made her stop, just like that. And it was horrible. Bordering on physical pain.

"Baby?" she whispered, calling out to Willow who was still watching her from the doorway.

"Who do you think I should kill next? The chef, or maybe you?"

"Willow I'm sorry for what I did to you."

"I'm thinking the chef. You're prettier, so it's nice having you around to look at."

"I shouldn't have asked you to quit… I had no idea how horrific it would be. I-I shouldn't have done that without thinking about the consequences."

"Though, you are way chattier than him."

"Willow, please… this isn't you. It's some stupid spell, it's like this in Sunnydale too."

"Huh, Slayer all inebriated and stuff?"

"Willow!" Tara snapped, "I know you're still in there, please Willow. Be strong. You're the strongest, bravest, most amazing person I've ever known and you can beat this thing. You've got more power inside of you than anyone in the world, whatever's done this to you I know you can beat it, please, baby…"

"God…" she rolled her eyes, picking her nails. The real Willow, trapped inside, had lapped up every word. And she was trying. If only for Tara. It was all for Tara.

Sorry that it's kinda rushed - I'm pressed for time and I broke my arm, so typing's a bitch. If updates get crappy, please don't get too mad :/ Tell me what you think? Reviews feed my (very sore!) muse!