Chapter Three

Lookout

A/N OK, I was going to put this in the last chapter, but I got a tad carried away with the emotion and came up with a better plan so here is the rest of that night.

Sunnydale, the world without shrimp 2002

"It's chilly," Willow said, she was shivering slightly, even though it was May the night air was still a little cold to the touch. They were walking along the edge of the cemetery, somehow they always ended there one way or another, it was uncanny how much time they all spent beside the headstones. Willow often wondered if there was something in it, or whether the added time they'd spent in th cemetery back in high school, kinda meant it was a hangout spot. Even with the spring air flooding in with warm spots, it was still a dark night and the wispy trees shadowed most of the trampled ground.

"Here, have this." Tara replied, taking her jacket from her shoulders and wrapping it around Willow's smaller frame. Willow smiled, she'd missed Tara being all sweet on her, it felt like old times had and even though it felt like her journey to get over magic was only just starting, having Tara back meant she was over the worst. She stopped walking when they came to a high curb, where the sidewalk crept into road at the lull of the path.

Willow took Tara's hand and peered into her eyes, her own green hue melting through the chilly air. "Look at you all taking care of me again, you're too sweet to me." She said wantonly, giving Tara's fingers a gentle squeeze before leaning into the blonde's shoulder peacefully. Willow wanted more than anything just to wrap her arms around her love and collapse into bed again, but they were still outside and that wouldn't have been quite as possible as she would've liked. The gap between them closed as Willow brought their lips together in a sweet, soft kiss. Soft because when you have two women kissing, it's going to be soft, the softness leaks.

"I love you too." Tara whispered softly back, her voice in tender transit to slow hum as Willow kissed her again. She always knew what Willow was thinking, their thoughts mingled most of the time, forming less than coherent responses and their conversations tended to blur. But it was...

"Well this is a nice moment. I'd hate to ruin it."

The heard the voice before they saw him. His creepy lilt wavering, forcing their embrace to shatter. Warren. He was standing in the middle of the road, his arms outstretched as walked slowly towards them. Willow turned her head to face him, eyes beady as squeezed Tara's hand for comfort; trying to move him, push him back, hurt him. It hadn't worked, their power was being blocked, he was too solid, there was a force there. Everything strength they had against him disintegrated as she kept walking, striding like an arrogant peacock. He knew how dangerous he was, he knew and it wasn't going to stop him.

"You guys had such a nice thing going." He headed straight for them, bringing his palms together. He drove them high into the sky, like a ball of energy magnetising them, forcing them apart. They flew in opposite directions, their bodies arching inwards as the blast centred around their stomachs. Landing with a thud against a cracking granite headstone, Willow groaned, peeling her achy limbs from the tussled ground. She peered upwards, then time seemed to flow ever slower, she watched as Tara got up faster, she was stronger. Her soul and her body. She hadn't been limited by the consequences of addiction, she'd allowed her magical abilities to grow, new techniques, spells, flailed around her head, swooping like barn owls.

Just as Warren came forward slowly, Tara stood strong, her feet connected with the earth, roots embedding deep as she summoned the earth spirits. Willow felt helpless, staring from afar at how powerful her love had become. They'd been apart for so long now, it appeared Tara had learnt a thing or two. Harvesting the power brought forth by the aiding gods, Tara pushed her hands forward, the air hurting, a heavy density clouding her way through. She couldn't see Willow anymore, but she couldn't let that stop her, worrying would ruin the illusion.

The illusion she had any idea of the power she was wielding, let alone how to control it. Then she sneezed...

The power flew from her grasp, the momentary lapse in concentration swarmed its way to Warren, forcing him to the ground. He knelt down in horror as his spell fought the natural magic at work. The ball of energy above him chained his limbs into the ground, his knees feeling like they'd been nailed down by the force. Then, with all his strength reanimating the orbs sitting in his pocket, he stood. Slowly taking in his surroundings as his eyes darkened, turning into some sort of black thing, he was a thing now. Not a person, whatever spell or device he'd worked into those orbs, it was now consuming him, draining him of his soul. His body a vessel for the spirits of the night.

Tara stepped towards him, driving her magic further forwards. But he tossed it aside with one flick of his finger, she backed away slowly, fear flooding her eyes as the blue hid behind her sockets. Warren, or what was left of him grasped her neck and held her wailing body high above the forgotten headstones. "TARA!" Willow screamed. Her place in the corner was long ignored as Warren focussed his energy on Tara. She was powerless, she'd succumbed to the disease of addiction and now she was helpless, she knew not any spell or small incantation powerful enough to stop him, once the dark had taken over there was no forcing its retreat. It's like her mind had forgotten magic, at that moment she needed it most, her brain had failed her, something Willow Rosenberg was not used to. She shuddered, she was watching the love of her life die and there was nothing she could do about it, and by the goddess she wanted to. She was racking and racking her mind for anything to even just make him lose focus. But there was just nothing, she was empty. She was empty and alone and her life was going to be over as soon as Warren was finished with Tara. She felt like the shy, nerdy girl she'd been when this all started.

Her large collection of hats and overalls, not to mention that curtain of red hair that used to hide her from the world. She was a child, stuck in an adults body watching the horrors of her nightmares come to fruition, this was it. This was hell.

Tara's legs were flailing, her body aching as he held her aloft. He wasn't killing her, he was draining her of energy so she would stop writhing. He liked to talk without the interruption of something screaming for help. Willow ran towards them, but Warren flinched out his arm quickly, pushing her onto her elbows, mud scraping down her legs as she watched the onslaught.

"Now, you stay still whilst I speak." Warren hissed, his face paler, it was almost grey now, his black eyes stretching over the irises and now all that remained of his features was the spiky hair slick with blue hair gel. "You will tell you're little friend, Buffy." He demanded, pushing harder into the reddening skin of Tara's neck. "I am going to find her, and I am going to destroy her. You hear me." He took a breath before contorting his hands into some other configuration, a stance with more power over the blonde girl.

"Destroy her." 'Her' being the last word he spoke before throwing Tara over the cemetery, landing her squarely in the back fence leading away from the creepy death park.

The only thing saving her from being crushed by the weight of her fall, was the earth magic still lingering in the air; instead of dissipating, the gods had looked favourably upon her and broke the gravity of the impact. As Tara lay whimpering in dulled pain on the ground, the energy left her aching body and pushed Warren to his knees. Forcing the dark spirit within him to leave; it rose into the air beside the white light. Its black eminence mirrored and equally opposed Tara's earth magic.

It looked like fireworks, as Willow crawled slowly towards Tara, finally reaching her and cradling her head as she began to rise from the stained grass. Warren lay passed out on the other side of the headstone army, his body almost lifeless as he groaned, stirring lightly at the pain of such corruption leaving him. His eyes returned to his usual brown lilt and his colour faded back to dirty peach.

The sky battle raged, good verses evil battling for justice. Until the earth magic dragged its cape over the mouth of evil and consumed it, becoming a small black seed that dropped down beside Willow and Tara. The earth magic soared, spinning in a violent glow, a circle of light until it dissipated and was gone. A spectacle became nothing. The bright new moonlight was the only thing reminding them of the winning spell, good had triumphed over evil and all that was well had prevailed. The danger was over...

For now. For them.

A single sharp squeak erupted from the engine as the bike came to a holt. Cigarette between his lips and foot steadily waiting in the dirt, Spike looked over the woeful town. His heavy leather getup more than enough of a statement, putting his middle and index fingers around the charring paper, he removed it from his mouth and held its burning remains in his cold undead hand. The town looked so cold, out of touch, lonely. He knew something was working away down there, a plan for revenge hatching, but he wasn't going to be around to see it destroyed, not again. His beautiful evil busted up by the slayer. His slayer. Only she wasn't his, was she. She didn't love him the way his heart died for her. So he would leave, leave everyone behind, conjure a new plan to enact revenge. Then they would see, they would see he wasn't just some pushover, lover boy laying around for his slayer to rescue him at all hours of the night. No, they would see.

"Get nice and comfy, slayer. I'll be back." He said, his breath lacking as the air hit him. He supposed it was an act of vengeance by his lungs, one last grab at trying to get him to stay. But it wasn't happening. He was leaving. "And when I do, things are gonna change." He was still breathy. Whatever his plan would come to be, he would win her over. Whatever it took. That thought hit him and he worked out his plan. His mind conjuring every strength to work as his will entailed; he would win her, like a game of cat and mouse and she would pay for breaking his heart. But you know, not too much, don't wanna break the little bit too.

Throwing his cigarette to the dust, he pushed off. The bike veering into the road, the light, bright orange behind him. His shadow followed him loyally, vowing his owner would one day return and it would all be for the better. Showing the path of wrath he would leave, his wake would be a sorry day for them all. He would have a soul, and she would never be able to deny him again.