SUNDAY, 5:43 p.m.
"Are you sure this is a good idea, Will? I mean, he can't fight humans, how will he be able to help?" Buffy was less than thrilled about Spike coming with them, but Willow seemed confident that he could lend a hand. Also, she had been hoping he would keep an eye on Dawn and her mother while she was gone.
"Well, you can't drive and I don't have a car, so it's probably a good idea to have someone who can drive. Plus he lent a hand last night when he didn't have to. He wants to help out and we need all the help we can get."
That seemed like the last word on the subject, because Spike came in the Magic Shop, ready to go. "Alright, ducks, lets hit the road. Beasties to find, you know."
Giles, who had been in the back taking inventory, came out to say goodbye. "I'll keep an eye on Joyce and Dawn for you, Buffy. Don't worry about them, just find Tara and keep me updated."
Buffy threw him a grateful look and they were off.
***
SUNDAY, 6:10 p.m.
"Wake up, now. Come on." Tara heard the voice floating around her, but she couldn't open her eyes. She felt like she was underwater and all she wanted was for the voice to go away so she could sleep some more. "Pretty, pretty…wake up for me."
Suddenly, like a slap in the face, Tara realized where she was. That word, that nickname he had given her, it turned her stomach every time he said it. She opened her eyes and saw his face hovering just a few inches from hers. This was the first time she'd really seen his face, except when he'd first taken her, and she set about memorizing every aspect, in case she did make it out alive.
He was short for a guy, not much taller than Tara herself. She remembered not having to look up that far when she first ran into him. He was stocky and big, but seemed to have a few muscles. His shaggy black hair was mussed and unkempt, greasy and stringy. It framed a large, round, face and fell just below his ears. His mouth held less than the standard thirty-two teeth and Tara found herself wanting to give a lesson on dental hygiene. His nose was long and thin, a startling contrast from his chubby face. But most disturbing were his eyes. She'd noticed how blank they'd been when she first saw him, but now they were alive, as if torturing her had animated him. Even the irises were black, making him look somehow inhuman. They moved quickly over her face, like he was trying to commit to memory her features, just as she was doing to his. They were demented and wild eyes, and if Tara thought she'd been frightened before, she was terrified now.
Abruptly, he smiled, a vulgar smile with nothing but pleasure behind it. "There you are. I thought you'd sleep the day away. Now, where were we? Oh yes…the shoulders…" He lifted a knife to her face and slowly dragged it along her cheek, drawing blood. The knife made its way down the side of her neck to her right shoulder, leaving a shallow trail of blood in its wake. "What fun we'll have today…"
Tara squeezed her eyes shut again, but his face still floated in front of her, smiling. This time, it was that image that made her cry, not the piercing of her shoulder with a butcher's knife.
***
SUNDAY, 8:30 p.m.
'Maybe this wasn't the best idea,' Willow thought absently, setting up to do the spell again. They'd been on the road for about three hours, and were now in Nevada. Every hour or so, they would stop, Willow would perform the spell, and they would set off in the direction of the vapor line. While they were making good time and had yet to loose Tara's trail, the bickering in the front seat hadn't stopped for more than ten minutes at a time.
"Well, honestly, how are we supposed to see the little line with all the smoke in the car, let alone breathe? Can't you at least try to get it out the window?"
"You know, I could, but I just don't give a bloody damn about your delicate little lungs." Spike smirked at Buffy, who was pouting. "Besides, love, it's MY car."
"I knew you'd figure out a way around that chip. You're going to kill me with lung cancer." She coughed dramatically to emphasize her point.
Spike grinned wickedly and Willow was pretty sure she knew what he was planning before he did. He took a long drag on his cigarette and blew a slow stream of smoke towards the passenger seat. His laughter and her coughing echoed in the car and Willow rolled her eyes.
"Buffy roll down your window, maybe that will help. Spike don't blow smoke at her. Traveling with the two of you is like traveling with two ten-year-olds. Next thing you know, Spike is going to be pulling your pigtails and you'll be crying bloody murder because he has COOTIES!" The two in the front seat both looked a little ashamed, and muttered 'sorry' to each other, though Willow doubted either meant it. "We are going to have to stop again in a few minutes, so you two can fight it out then. But for now, sit back, shut up, and play nice!"
Willow had had enough. She was terrified for Tara and it was all she could do not to break down in tears at the thought of what that man could be doing to her. Her nerves were frazzled and all the two of them could do was fight. She recognized that it wasn't just fighting for Spike; in his own twisted way he was trying to flirt with Buffy. Willow didn't mind that that was his real reason for coming, because he had been a big help so far. Without a car, Willow and Buffy wouldn't have gotten out of Sunnydale, so the redhead could forgive him his ulterior motives. She just hoped they could keep their hormones under control until this was all over.
***
MONDAY 2:13 a.m.
Tara felt herself losing consciousness and it felt much like falling asleep, without the comforting idea of dreaming, or waking up. She felt as though she were falling into darkness, an empty, all-encompassing void where pain and desperation were the only inhabitants. She bit the inside of her cheek and forced her eyes open, afraid of the darkness and the possibility of not returning from it. Many hours had passed since they had arrived in this small, empty room, maybe even days, and what little hope Tara had left was waning.
She was laid out on a table now, face up, almost completely naked. At first she had blushed and been ashamed of her nudity, but after about three minutes, modesty was the last thing on her mind. He had carved different shapes and designs into her skin, many of them symbols of the occult. While he was out of the room earlier, Tara looked them over and one she recognized as a pagan binding charm. She lifted her head now to see what he was doing, and was greeted by his gruff voice, forced into a cheerful tone.
"Ah, pretty, you're still awake. You should probably rest soon. This next bit will probably take a lot of energy out of you." The whole time he spoke, he ran his hand up her leg and across her stomach, pressing down, as if trying to keep her still. Trying not to think about what he was planning to do next, Tara turned her head and squeezed shut her eyes, missing the small scalpel that he raised to her chest. "But don't worry, it will only be a few more days before you can rest. I'm making sure you'll be able to rest forever. No coming back this time." Now his voice was at her ear again, his hot, sticky breath reeking of insanity and stale intentions.
Tara didn't see him dip the scalpel in alcohol. She didn't see him let his gaze walk over her body, looking for a patch of untouched skin. She didn't see his eyes rest on the area just above her left breast. And she didn't see him smile.
The blonde slipped into the dreaded unconsciousness as the blade tore into her flesh, drawing in her skin a heart, a picture that would have been cute if drawn on white paper with red crayon. But the white here was skin and the red was blood, and it was anything but innocent.
The man silently decided that the time for sketching on her hide was through. Letting the small cutting edge dip under the skin, he peeled the small heart off of her chest and laid it on the table beside her. Lifting his hand, he caressed the bloody opening above her breast like a lover, sighing with the pure joy of the act. He would rid the body of its shell and burn its heart, releasing its soul forever. And finally she would be free of this world.
She'd been dead for almost a month when he first saw her again. A sweet girl, with her blonde locks and supple body. He didn't believe it was her at first, but then those eyes. Those piercing blue-gray eyes that had always stopped his heart cold. He knew his dead lover was haunting him and the only way to release her would be to rid her of the body, letting her move on, letting her leave this realm.
He hadn't questioned his duty, but simply caught the girl and snapped her neck. He decided afterwards that he should take her skin, leaving the soul a way out of the protective shell. But not four days later, he saw her again, that same hair, that same frame. So he took her and hid out, taking his time in freeing the soul, thinking maybe he'd done it too quickly before. He also decided that maybe she had to still be alive when the soul was freed, so he left her alive until after the skinning. When he'd seen her a third time, he became frustrated. He hid her away in an old factory while he read and researched in the occult, memorizing symbols and runes that might help liberate her. Then he'd taken almost two weeks, skinning her bit by bit, letting her revel in the pain of stealing his love's soul, then he had carved out her heart and buried it.
Then he'd seen her again. This one, she was strong, and he knew it would take awhile to break her. She hadn't spoken, hadn't cried out, hadn't begged or pleaded. But then, his love had always been very strong. So he knew that the best thing he could do, would be to break her down completely before taking the heart, to break her spirit so it wouldn't want to come back to this world.
Drawing a line on her skin with the blood on his fingers, the man smiled his horrid smile once again. This time it would work. He just had to take his time.
***
MONDAY, 5;13 a.m.
Buffy, Willow and Spike had stopped for gas right outside of the New Mexico state line. Willow was in the Quik Stop getting snacks, leaving Spike and Buffy to fight outside at the car.
"We can't pay you."
"What's that, love?"
"You heard me. If you're expecting money for this, forget it."
"Well, thanks for the clue, Slayer, but I'm not doing this for money."
"Right. So why then, if not out of pure selfishness?"
Spike judged the petite blonde very carefully before he spoke. He knew this journey was not the time to bring up his feelings for her, but he thought it would be the only way she would understand how important this mission was to him. "I just understand." When she looked at him expectantly, he continued, "If something like this happened to someone I loved as much as those two love each other, I'd hope I'd have friends devoted enough to go with me to get my sweetheart back, s'all."
Buffy snorted at his sentiment. "Well, you better believe I wouldn't be in on that little road trip."
"No, love," Spike looked at her, his eyes full of hurt, "You'd be the one we went to find."
Buffy felt her mouth go dry at his words, but before she could respond, she heard Willow's voice behind her.
"I think he's moved her again. Before we were headed straight east, but now we are definitely headed south." She handed Spike a package of chips, "Sorry, they didn't have O positive, so I got you barbeque. That okay?"
"Perfect, ducks." He and the Slayer had yet to break their gaze, but it was time to get back on the road. "So lets get headed southward then, shall we?" He tore his eyes from Buffy's and got in the car. She stood there motionless for a few more seconds before climbing in the passenger door.
"What's wrong, Buff?" Willow asked. She'd noticed how they were looking at each other when she came out, and she assumed that Spike had finally told her how he felt. "You look kind of pale."
"I- I'm fine, Will. Just a little carsick." She turned her head and looked out the small opening in the blacked-out window, the general mood in the car having shifted from loud and tense to quiet, sullen, and tense.
Willow was actually thankful to Spike. He had provided a silencer to the bickering, as well as a melodrama to keep her mind off of the thought of losing Tara. She smiled lightly when she noticed the fidgety vampire stealing glances at Buffy. 'He really does love her…'
***
MONDAY, 9:43 a.m.
"I don't understand why you are crying!" The man was yelling at Tara, who couldn't help the tears of pain that made a trail down her cheeks. "I'm doing this for you! I'm giving you your rest and all you can do is cry! You should be happy, damn you!"
Tara was terrified. The man had been bellowing at her for close to twenty minutes and all she could do was weep. All she wanted was to see Willow, to touch her face, and see her smile, but every time she closed her eyes, the man's ragged grin pierced her thoughts. His shouting and throwing things did not help the situation.
She had started crying about an hour ago, when she'd awoken in yet another different place. Each place had seemed to be an old hotel, where he had cleared off a table, drugged her, and gone to work. This place had yellow wallpaper with small pink flowers and horribly ugly southwestern patterned bedspreads. She tried to use the decorations of the hotel rooms as an indicator of where she was, but mostly it just served as a distraction from the knives.
The change in scenery hadn't been the direct cause of her tears, however. When she woke up, there was a great deal of pain in her chest and stomach area, so she had raised her head as far as the drugs would allow and looked at her body. She took in the large patches of skin missing from those areas. Most areas had been taken in small shapes, like the heart above her left breast and the stars and moons scattered on her stomach. There was also a medium sized pentagram on her right thigh. Blood was everywhere and the pain was just too much. The tears had come then, filling the hole that hope had left when it fled her body.
***
MONDAY, 10:10 a.m.
It had been almost an hour since anyone had spoken inside the De Soto. It was getting to be daytime now, so Spike was sleeping in the back, protected by the darkened windows, while Willow drove. Buffy looked over her shoulder at the sleeping vampire and then turned back to her friend at the wheel.
"We'll find her, Will." She tried to sound reassuring, but wasn't sure herself.
"I'm beginning to believe that," She glanced at her friend hopefully. "The line on the map is getting stronger every time I do the spell, and…" She stopped, looking at Buffy as though she was afraid her friend wouldn't believe her.
"Go on, Willow. What is it?"
Willow smiled slightly, "I can feel her. She's close now. I know she's still alive, but…I can almost feel it when…when he hurts her." Her face darkened at this last, but brightened marginally when she repeated the former. "I know she's still alive."
"That's good." Buffy was truly relieved to hear this, and happy the redhead had found a little hope. "You just keep knowing that, okay?"
The two friends shared a quick look that held the love they felt for each other. For a moment, it was all okay and they were just driving to the Bronze for a dance. Buffy had a quick flash of the ghost of Willow past, seeing her smiling through the pain right before Buffy had gone to fight the Master. 'I like your dress,' she'd said, smiling, even though the Anointed One had violated a small part of her world.
Buffy smiled at Willow, "You are so strong, Will. She's lucky to have you. And," she hesitated, feeling like a mother, but made herself continue. She wanted the witch to know. "And, I'm so proud of you. Of who you've become since I met you." She felt like crying, felt like their world was changing all over again.
Willow just smiled her brave smile and nodded back at the Slayer. "I know."
***
MONDAY, 12:58 p.m.
'Willow's smile…Willow doing a spell…Willow kisses…' Tara struggled to think of anything besides what the man was doing to her right then.
"Pretty…are you too warm? It's warm in here. No air conditioning in these stupid places." His face was inches from hers, his sour breath assaulting Tara's senses. He was searching her face for any sign of recognition, or of affection. He leaned up and started peppering her nearly unmarred face with kisses. She tried to turn her head, never crying out, but now the sobbing had begun again. "Too hot for all that, eh, pretty? Well, lets try to cool you off. No need for long sleeves, right?"
Tara held a picture of Willow in her head, love in her eyes and joy in her smile. She concentrated on every aspect of her lover's features while waiting for the blade to enter her skin again. When it did, it entered at her shoulder, encircled her arm, and then ran down the length of her arm to her wrist, not going deep enough to effectively slit her wrist. When it got down to her hand, the cutting edge encircled it, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Tara opened her eyes briefly to see what he was drawing this time and felt her stomach lurch when she watched him peel the skin back. In a flash, all the skin from her left arm was gone, leaving exposed muscles and tendons, like a red sleeve.
Not dreading the darkness any longer, Tara passed out again.
***
MONDAY, 3:26 p.m.
Spike lay in the back of the car, listening intently to the girls' conversations. He was very glad that the witch was so optimistic about her dear heart and that the two of them had bonded and all, but he silently wished they'd get round to him. He watched Buffy through barely slit eyelids as she looked pensively out the window once again. He stiffened when Red broached the subject.
"So he told you, huh?" Spike did a double take. How had she known?
"How did you know?"
Spike rolled his eyes. 'Wish she'd quit reading my mind.'
"Well its obvious if you aren't, well, you," Willow looked at an extremely dismayed Buffy, amused. "Don't act like it's so repulsive. I've seen the way you look at him when you think no one's looking."
"SHHH!" Buffy hushed the witch and threw a look over her shoulder to make sure Spike was still sleeping. It was exceptionally difficult to hide his amusement and play dead (though not actually needing to breathe helped), but he managed to keep the smile from surfacing. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Uh-huh, and that's why you were so afraid he was listening."
"Well…" A thoughtful beat from the Slayer. "Well, alright, I'm not denying that he's moderately yummy."
"Buffy."
"Fine! Fine, incredibly yummy. But Buffy plus soulless demon equals death and destruction." She looked at Willow pleadingly, "It can't end well. Besides, look at how much we fight."
"Foreplay." Willow said matter-of-factly. Spike had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud.
"Willow!" Buffy was shocked, but couldn't help smiling.
"Well it's true, Buffy. Have you ever noticed how worked up the two of you are after you argue? You ever wonder why you always want to beat him up? It's you turning all the sexual aggression into plain old aggression."
Spike was grinning madly in the backseat, thinking he had to thank Red when they stopped next. She had them pegged.
"I don't think so, Willow. Its just good old-fashioned hatred." Buffy tried to make her case, but a nagging suspicion kept her from being completely convinced herself. She looked back out the window and thought.
***
"Are you sure this is a good idea, Will? I mean, he can't fight humans, how will he be able to help?" Buffy was less than thrilled about Spike coming with them, but Willow seemed confident that he could lend a hand. Also, she had been hoping he would keep an eye on Dawn and her mother while she was gone.
"Well, you can't drive and I don't have a car, so it's probably a good idea to have someone who can drive. Plus he lent a hand last night when he didn't have to. He wants to help out and we need all the help we can get."
That seemed like the last word on the subject, because Spike came in the Magic Shop, ready to go. "Alright, ducks, lets hit the road. Beasties to find, you know."
Giles, who had been in the back taking inventory, came out to say goodbye. "I'll keep an eye on Joyce and Dawn for you, Buffy. Don't worry about them, just find Tara and keep me updated."
Buffy threw him a grateful look and they were off.
***
SUNDAY, 6:10 p.m.
"Wake up, now. Come on." Tara heard the voice floating around her, but she couldn't open her eyes. She felt like she was underwater and all she wanted was for the voice to go away so she could sleep some more. "Pretty, pretty…wake up for me."
Suddenly, like a slap in the face, Tara realized where she was. That word, that nickname he had given her, it turned her stomach every time he said it. She opened her eyes and saw his face hovering just a few inches from hers. This was the first time she'd really seen his face, except when he'd first taken her, and she set about memorizing every aspect, in case she did make it out alive.
He was short for a guy, not much taller than Tara herself. She remembered not having to look up that far when she first ran into him. He was stocky and big, but seemed to have a few muscles. His shaggy black hair was mussed and unkempt, greasy and stringy. It framed a large, round, face and fell just below his ears. His mouth held less than the standard thirty-two teeth and Tara found herself wanting to give a lesson on dental hygiene. His nose was long and thin, a startling contrast from his chubby face. But most disturbing were his eyes. She'd noticed how blank they'd been when she first saw him, but now they were alive, as if torturing her had animated him. Even the irises were black, making him look somehow inhuman. They moved quickly over her face, like he was trying to commit to memory her features, just as she was doing to his. They were demented and wild eyes, and if Tara thought she'd been frightened before, she was terrified now.
Abruptly, he smiled, a vulgar smile with nothing but pleasure behind it. "There you are. I thought you'd sleep the day away. Now, where were we? Oh yes…the shoulders…" He lifted a knife to her face and slowly dragged it along her cheek, drawing blood. The knife made its way down the side of her neck to her right shoulder, leaving a shallow trail of blood in its wake. "What fun we'll have today…"
Tara squeezed her eyes shut again, but his face still floated in front of her, smiling. This time, it was that image that made her cry, not the piercing of her shoulder with a butcher's knife.
***
SUNDAY, 8:30 p.m.
'Maybe this wasn't the best idea,' Willow thought absently, setting up to do the spell again. They'd been on the road for about three hours, and were now in Nevada. Every hour or so, they would stop, Willow would perform the spell, and they would set off in the direction of the vapor line. While they were making good time and had yet to loose Tara's trail, the bickering in the front seat hadn't stopped for more than ten minutes at a time.
"Well, honestly, how are we supposed to see the little line with all the smoke in the car, let alone breathe? Can't you at least try to get it out the window?"
"You know, I could, but I just don't give a bloody damn about your delicate little lungs." Spike smirked at Buffy, who was pouting. "Besides, love, it's MY car."
"I knew you'd figure out a way around that chip. You're going to kill me with lung cancer." She coughed dramatically to emphasize her point.
Spike grinned wickedly and Willow was pretty sure she knew what he was planning before he did. He took a long drag on his cigarette and blew a slow stream of smoke towards the passenger seat. His laughter and her coughing echoed in the car and Willow rolled her eyes.
"Buffy roll down your window, maybe that will help. Spike don't blow smoke at her. Traveling with the two of you is like traveling with two ten-year-olds. Next thing you know, Spike is going to be pulling your pigtails and you'll be crying bloody murder because he has COOTIES!" The two in the front seat both looked a little ashamed, and muttered 'sorry' to each other, though Willow doubted either meant it. "We are going to have to stop again in a few minutes, so you two can fight it out then. But for now, sit back, shut up, and play nice!"
Willow had had enough. She was terrified for Tara and it was all she could do not to break down in tears at the thought of what that man could be doing to her. Her nerves were frazzled and all the two of them could do was fight. She recognized that it wasn't just fighting for Spike; in his own twisted way he was trying to flirt with Buffy. Willow didn't mind that that was his real reason for coming, because he had been a big help so far. Without a car, Willow and Buffy wouldn't have gotten out of Sunnydale, so the redhead could forgive him his ulterior motives. She just hoped they could keep their hormones under control until this was all over.
***
MONDAY 2:13 a.m.
Tara felt herself losing consciousness and it felt much like falling asleep, without the comforting idea of dreaming, or waking up. She felt as though she were falling into darkness, an empty, all-encompassing void where pain and desperation were the only inhabitants. She bit the inside of her cheek and forced her eyes open, afraid of the darkness and the possibility of not returning from it. Many hours had passed since they had arrived in this small, empty room, maybe even days, and what little hope Tara had left was waning.
She was laid out on a table now, face up, almost completely naked. At first she had blushed and been ashamed of her nudity, but after about three minutes, modesty was the last thing on her mind. He had carved different shapes and designs into her skin, many of them symbols of the occult. While he was out of the room earlier, Tara looked them over and one she recognized as a pagan binding charm. She lifted her head now to see what he was doing, and was greeted by his gruff voice, forced into a cheerful tone.
"Ah, pretty, you're still awake. You should probably rest soon. This next bit will probably take a lot of energy out of you." The whole time he spoke, he ran his hand up her leg and across her stomach, pressing down, as if trying to keep her still. Trying not to think about what he was planning to do next, Tara turned her head and squeezed shut her eyes, missing the small scalpel that he raised to her chest. "But don't worry, it will only be a few more days before you can rest. I'm making sure you'll be able to rest forever. No coming back this time." Now his voice was at her ear again, his hot, sticky breath reeking of insanity and stale intentions.
Tara didn't see him dip the scalpel in alcohol. She didn't see him let his gaze walk over her body, looking for a patch of untouched skin. She didn't see his eyes rest on the area just above her left breast. And she didn't see him smile.
The blonde slipped into the dreaded unconsciousness as the blade tore into her flesh, drawing in her skin a heart, a picture that would have been cute if drawn on white paper with red crayon. But the white here was skin and the red was blood, and it was anything but innocent.
The man silently decided that the time for sketching on her hide was through. Letting the small cutting edge dip under the skin, he peeled the small heart off of her chest and laid it on the table beside her. Lifting his hand, he caressed the bloody opening above her breast like a lover, sighing with the pure joy of the act. He would rid the body of its shell and burn its heart, releasing its soul forever. And finally she would be free of this world.
She'd been dead for almost a month when he first saw her again. A sweet girl, with her blonde locks and supple body. He didn't believe it was her at first, but then those eyes. Those piercing blue-gray eyes that had always stopped his heart cold. He knew his dead lover was haunting him and the only way to release her would be to rid her of the body, letting her move on, letting her leave this realm.
He hadn't questioned his duty, but simply caught the girl and snapped her neck. He decided afterwards that he should take her skin, leaving the soul a way out of the protective shell. But not four days later, he saw her again, that same hair, that same frame. So he took her and hid out, taking his time in freeing the soul, thinking maybe he'd done it too quickly before. He also decided that maybe she had to still be alive when the soul was freed, so he left her alive until after the skinning. When he'd seen her a third time, he became frustrated. He hid her away in an old factory while he read and researched in the occult, memorizing symbols and runes that might help liberate her. Then he'd taken almost two weeks, skinning her bit by bit, letting her revel in the pain of stealing his love's soul, then he had carved out her heart and buried it.
Then he'd seen her again. This one, she was strong, and he knew it would take awhile to break her. She hadn't spoken, hadn't cried out, hadn't begged or pleaded. But then, his love had always been very strong. So he knew that the best thing he could do, would be to break her down completely before taking the heart, to break her spirit so it wouldn't want to come back to this world.
Drawing a line on her skin with the blood on his fingers, the man smiled his horrid smile once again. This time it would work. He just had to take his time.
***
MONDAY, 5;13 a.m.
Buffy, Willow and Spike had stopped for gas right outside of the New Mexico state line. Willow was in the Quik Stop getting snacks, leaving Spike and Buffy to fight outside at the car.
"We can't pay you."
"What's that, love?"
"You heard me. If you're expecting money for this, forget it."
"Well, thanks for the clue, Slayer, but I'm not doing this for money."
"Right. So why then, if not out of pure selfishness?"
Spike judged the petite blonde very carefully before he spoke. He knew this journey was not the time to bring up his feelings for her, but he thought it would be the only way she would understand how important this mission was to him. "I just understand." When she looked at him expectantly, he continued, "If something like this happened to someone I loved as much as those two love each other, I'd hope I'd have friends devoted enough to go with me to get my sweetheart back, s'all."
Buffy snorted at his sentiment. "Well, you better believe I wouldn't be in on that little road trip."
"No, love," Spike looked at her, his eyes full of hurt, "You'd be the one we went to find."
Buffy felt her mouth go dry at his words, but before she could respond, she heard Willow's voice behind her.
"I think he's moved her again. Before we were headed straight east, but now we are definitely headed south." She handed Spike a package of chips, "Sorry, they didn't have O positive, so I got you barbeque. That okay?"
"Perfect, ducks." He and the Slayer had yet to break their gaze, but it was time to get back on the road. "So lets get headed southward then, shall we?" He tore his eyes from Buffy's and got in the car. She stood there motionless for a few more seconds before climbing in the passenger door.
"What's wrong, Buff?" Willow asked. She'd noticed how they were looking at each other when she came out, and she assumed that Spike had finally told her how he felt. "You look kind of pale."
"I- I'm fine, Will. Just a little carsick." She turned her head and looked out the small opening in the blacked-out window, the general mood in the car having shifted from loud and tense to quiet, sullen, and tense.
Willow was actually thankful to Spike. He had provided a silencer to the bickering, as well as a melodrama to keep her mind off of the thought of losing Tara. She smiled lightly when she noticed the fidgety vampire stealing glances at Buffy. 'He really does love her…'
***
MONDAY, 9:43 a.m.
"I don't understand why you are crying!" The man was yelling at Tara, who couldn't help the tears of pain that made a trail down her cheeks. "I'm doing this for you! I'm giving you your rest and all you can do is cry! You should be happy, damn you!"
Tara was terrified. The man had been bellowing at her for close to twenty minutes and all she could do was weep. All she wanted was to see Willow, to touch her face, and see her smile, but every time she closed her eyes, the man's ragged grin pierced her thoughts. His shouting and throwing things did not help the situation.
She had started crying about an hour ago, when she'd awoken in yet another different place. Each place had seemed to be an old hotel, where he had cleared off a table, drugged her, and gone to work. This place had yellow wallpaper with small pink flowers and horribly ugly southwestern patterned bedspreads. She tried to use the decorations of the hotel rooms as an indicator of where she was, but mostly it just served as a distraction from the knives.
The change in scenery hadn't been the direct cause of her tears, however. When she woke up, there was a great deal of pain in her chest and stomach area, so she had raised her head as far as the drugs would allow and looked at her body. She took in the large patches of skin missing from those areas. Most areas had been taken in small shapes, like the heart above her left breast and the stars and moons scattered on her stomach. There was also a medium sized pentagram on her right thigh. Blood was everywhere and the pain was just too much. The tears had come then, filling the hole that hope had left when it fled her body.
***
MONDAY, 10:10 a.m.
It had been almost an hour since anyone had spoken inside the De Soto. It was getting to be daytime now, so Spike was sleeping in the back, protected by the darkened windows, while Willow drove. Buffy looked over her shoulder at the sleeping vampire and then turned back to her friend at the wheel.
"We'll find her, Will." She tried to sound reassuring, but wasn't sure herself.
"I'm beginning to believe that," She glanced at her friend hopefully. "The line on the map is getting stronger every time I do the spell, and…" She stopped, looking at Buffy as though she was afraid her friend wouldn't believe her.
"Go on, Willow. What is it?"
Willow smiled slightly, "I can feel her. She's close now. I know she's still alive, but…I can almost feel it when…when he hurts her." Her face darkened at this last, but brightened marginally when she repeated the former. "I know she's still alive."
"That's good." Buffy was truly relieved to hear this, and happy the redhead had found a little hope. "You just keep knowing that, okay?"
The two friends shared a quick look that held the love they felt for each other. For a moment, it was all okay and they were just driving to the Bronze for a dance. Buffy had a quick flash of the ghost of Willow past, seeing her smiling through the pain right before Buffy had gone to fight the Master. 'I like your dress,' she'd said, smiling, even though the Anointed One had violated a small part of her world.
Buffy smiled at Willow, "You are so strong, Will. She's lucky to have you. And," she hesitated, feeling like a mother, but made herself continue. She wanted the witch to know. "And, I'm so proud of you. Of who you've become since I met you." She felt like crying, felt like their world was changing all over again.
Willow just smiled her brave smile and nodded back at the Slayer. "I know."
***
MONDAY, 12:58 p.m.
'Willow's smile…Willow doing a spell…Willow kisses…' Tara struggled to think of anything besides what the man was doing to her right then.
"Pretty…are you too warm? It's warm in here. No air conditioning in these stupid places." His face was inches from hers, his sour breath assaulting Tara's senses. He was searching her face for any sign of recognition, or of affection. He leaned up and started peppering her nearly unmarred face with kisses. She tried to turn her head, never crying out, but now the sobbing had begun again. "Too hot for all that, eh, pretty? Well, lets try to cool you off. No need for long sleeves, right?"
Tara held a picture of Willow in her head, love in her eyes and joy in her smile. She concentrated on every aspect of her lover's features while waiting for the blade to enter her skin again. When it did, it entered at her shoulder, encircled her arm, and then ran down the length of her arm to her wrist, not going deep enough to effectively slit her wrist. When it got down to her hand, the cutting edge encircled it, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Tara opened her eyes briefly to see what he was drawing this time and felt her stomach lurch when she watched him peel the skin back. In a flash, all the skin from her left arm was gone, leaving exposed muscles and tendons, like a red sleeve.
Not dreading the darkness any longer, Tara passed out again.
***
MONDAY, 3:26 p.m.
Spike lay in the back of the car, listening intently to the girls' conversations. He was very glad that the witch was so optimistic about her dear heart and that the two of them had bonded and all, but he silently wished they'd get round to him. He watched Buffy through barely slit eyelids as she looked pensively out the window once again. He stiffened when Red broached the subject.
"So he told you, huh?" Spike did a double take. How had she known?
"How did you know?"
Spike rolled his eyes. 'Wish she'd quit reading my mind.'
"Well its obvious if you aren't, well, you," Willow looked at an extremely dismayed Buffy, amused. "Don't act like it's so repulsive. I've seen the way you look at him when you think no one's looking."
"SHHH!" Buffy hushed the witch and threw a look over her shoulder to make sure Spike was still sleeping. It was exceptionally difficult to hide his amusement and play dead (though not actually needing to breathe helped), but he managed to keep the smile from surfacing. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Uh-huh, and that's why you were so afraid he was listening."
"Well…" A thoughtful beat from the Slayer. "Well, alright, I'm not denying that he's moderately yummy."
"Buffy."
"Fine! Fine, incredibly yummy. But Buffy plus soulless demon equals death and destruction." She looked at Willow pleadingly, "It can't end well. Besides, look at how much we fight."
"Foreplay." Willow said matter-of-factly. Spike had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud.
"Willow!" Buffy was shocked, but couldn't help smiling.
"Well it's true, Buffy. Have you ever noticed how worked up the two of you are after you argue? You ever wonder why you always want to beat him up? It's you turning all the sexual aggression into plain old aggression."
Spike was grinning madly in the backseat, thinking he had to thank Red when they stopped next. She had them pegged.
"I don't think so, Willow. Its just good old-fashioned hatred." Buffy tried to make her case, but a nagging suspicion kept her from being completely convinced herself. She looked back out the window and thought.
***