MONDAY, 8 p.m.
In less than three days, Tara had gone from hopeful and determined, to despondent and desperate. It hadn't taken long after the man had skinned her arm for her to pass out, and when she woke next she was turned over on her stomach, also relieved of the burdens known as the skin on her other arm and thighs. She had noticed that he had tended to some of the wounds and as she surveyed the damage, she was silently grateful for the drugs that eased the pain. But that was all she had left to be thankful for.
She found herself dried of tears and could no longer see Willow's face in her mind. She knew now that she was going to die, and nothing would stop it. She felt Willow's presence, close, but a stronger feeling told her she wouldn't find the blonde witch in time. Tara's head was clearer than it had ever been the entire time she'd been in this man's clutches, but she still felt out of control. She raised her arm, looking at the damage. It looked as though she was wearing white gloves with a red long sleeved shirt. This thought struck Tara as funny and she found herself laughing a loud, sharp cackle that in no way resembled her own. There was no humor in it, just fear and pain.
She silently wished for death to come quickly.
***
MONDAY, 8 p.m.
Buffy lay against the passenger side window, asleep, as was Spike sitting in the back. Willow had known Spike was listening, but thought it was good for the pair if he heard Buffy admit her attraction to him.
Willow was musing about the two when she felt a sharp pang of despair. She knew that it was Tara's mind calling out to her, telling her that she was afraid and helpless, but Willow refused to see it for a bad omen. Instead, she forced herself to feel relief at the fact that her love was still alive. She had just dealt with the pang when she heard sharp laughter in her mind. Again, that was Tara, and this time the redhead panicked. The sound had been absolutely bleak and accepting. Tara was ready to die.
Willow pulled off onto the first exit she saw and was yelling at the two passengers as soon as she was off the highway. "We have to stop! Get the spell stuff ready! We have to stop!"
The vampire and the Slayer sat up, shaking sleep off and sharing a look of panic themselves before they readied the ingredients so when they came to a full stop, the witch could do her thing. Neither of them knew what had happened to frighten Willow so much, but both felt in their bones that it was something horrible.
Giving up finding a parking lot, Willow opted to pull over on the shoulder and do her spell quickly. "SITUATI TARA!" She practically screeched at the area where she had sprinkled the ingredients. Her desperation was contagious, as Buffy began to fidget.
The three looked down on the map of New Mexico as the vaporous line reappeared. It made its way away from them, ending in a large dot not two miles from where they were parked.
Suddenly Spike was amped and he started bouncing with energy. "Lets find this fucker. Come on, ducks, lets go get him right now; Rip his bloody head off."
Willow did nothing but look up at him and nod, murder in her eyes.
***
MONDAY, 8:09 p.m.
Tara felt Willow so close it hurt her heart. She found herself laughing again, this time with a twinge of hope. The man was confused at her sudden state of jocularity, and when he stopped his work on her back and went to talk to her face, he found himself wishing he hadn't skipped the last dose of the drug he'd been supplying her with.
Her eyes had gone black, matching his in wildness and animalism. Her soft features bore a sharp look that worried him. He was at a loss for words, until she laughed again, a smile trying desperately to reach her lips. "What are you on about, pretty? Finally enjoying my work, are you?"
She spoke directly to him for the first time since he had begun his torture. With a strained smile, she said, "They're coming for you. They will find you and you…will…die." Her laugh broke the silence once again, and he almost dropped his knife to the floor.
Suddenly fury coursed through him and he backhanded her roughly. "Now, now, pretty. No fantasies. No one is coming for you. And it is you who will die." His face was an inch from hers at this point, and Tara spit into it, laughing still.
***
MONDAY, 8:10 p.m.
"Yes, I'm sure it's him." Willow was on the payphone outside the hotel the map had shown them to. She felt she had to call the police, just to say that she had. "Yes, I'm sure he's dead. I killed him myself."
Buffy's heart went cold. She hadn't realized the witch was planning on actually taking a human life, though she understood how much pain this whole ordeal must have caused. The Slayer watched as Willow hung up the phone.
"No more talking," she announced to her two companions. "It's time for action."
They entered the hotel, Buffy hiding two small daggers in her shirt, Spike with his loaded shotgun, and Willow with her bag of magick tricks. The Slayer and the vampire followed the witch, who seemed to know exactly where they should go. The redhead still felt Tara's soul crying out to her, and she followed the pull to the second floor. Room 217.
"Just like before," she said quietly, before knocking.
***
MONDAY, 8:15 p.m.
Tara raised her head at the knock on the door. It was Willow, she could tell. Hope swelled in her.
"Room service," came her lover's voice and the blonde witch smiled brightly.
"I didn't order room service," called the madman who still held the knife to Tara's back.
"Of course you didn't, pretty," Tara crooned to the man. "That's your death they're delivering."
Her cruel smile was quickly followed by Spike bashing in the door and pointing his shotgun at the man. Before she could think, the bastard had pulled Tara up against him, facing the trio in the doorway, with the knife raised to her neck.
"One more step and I'll slit her throat."
Willow started at the sight of her lover's body. All the skin was missing from her arms and the top half of her legs. Red patches blossomed all over her chest and belly, figures and symbols littering her front. She looked as though she'd lost at least ten pounds in the 72 hours since Willow had last seen her. The redhead flinched at the blood that seemed to be everywhere, but collected herself quickly and started her rescue.
"Separate," she said simply, and the two were thrown to separate sides of the room. Willow ran over to Tara while Buffy and Spike approached the killer.
"Willow, oh, Willow," Tara's tears inspired the redhead's own.
"Shhh, Tara, it's okay. I found you," she smiled lovingly down at her girlfriend, kissing away her tears. "I'll always find you."
Spike and Buffy tried to tie the man up. Spike held the shotgun on him, while Buffy approached him with the rope. But the man lashed out with the knife he still held, slicing through Buffy's arm and then rushed Spike, who he outright stabbed in the abdomen. Bracing for the inevitable shock from his chip, Spike pulled the trigger. He spasmed as the pain wracked his body, and the shot went wild, hitting only ceiling tile.
"Bloody hell!" came the curse from behind her, and Willow turned to see the man running at them, knife in hand. Before she could say anything, he jumped at them screaming.
"SHE MUST BE RELEASED!" The force of his body knocking into theirs threw Willow two feet away, knocking her head against a table corner. When she raised her bleeding head, she watched as the crazed man raised his knife, laughing wildly, and plunged it into Tara's chest.
Willow, enraged, screamed an incantation to throw the man against the wall. She then levitated all the remaining knives that the man had undoubtedly used on her lover, and threw them all at him, effectively stopping his ranting and raving, as well as his heartbeat.
The redhead ran back over to Tara, who was still breathing, albeit raggedly. "Tara, it'll be okay. We'll get you out of here." The tears started again, though not out of happiness.
"Willow," Tara raised a hand to her love's cheek, a small smile on her lips. Her calm frightened Willow. "It's okay now. This is how it's supposed to be." Her eyes had a faraway look for a second, but she came back into focus, still smiling. "It doesn't even hurt anymore."
"Tara, no. Please." The two witches' eyes met for the briefest of seconds. "Tara, don't go. You can't leave me."
"I have to, Willow. I love you." The smile that graced Tara's lips met her eyes, lighting them. "You'll find me again." After a moment, that light left her eyes as the smile left her lips.
"Tara, I love you. Oh, goddess, no," Willow collapsed on her lover's body, not noticing its semi-skinned state, weeping for a lost love.
Spike and Buffy looked on, distressed, both of their hearts wringing from watching their friend in so much pain. Silent tears coursed down Buffy's cheeks as she leaned in to pull Willow away.
"Wills, come on. I hear the sirens, the cops are coming."
"No, I can't leave her. I can't leave her like this." Willow looked around and grabbed a sheet from the bed. "She'll be cold, she's got no clothes. She'll be cold." She started crying again, and this time Spike stepped forward.
"It's alright, pet. I'll take care of her. Just go with Buffy. I'll make sure she's warm." His voice was soft and soothing, filled with pain as he tried to talk down the redhead. Buffy spared him a thankful glance when Willow rose and came to her. The two girls walked out of the dreadful room and waited in the hall for the police, as Spike picked up Tara's lifeless body and set her on the bed.
***
EPILOGUE, TWO WEEKS LATER
They sat in the Magic Box, trying to research Glory. The council had yet to provide them with anything else of use, so they were taking it upon themselves to find out. The shop was closed and the Scoobies were spread about, each with a book. Buffy sat alone at the table in the middle of the room, Giles was at the counter, Spike sat on the stairs, and Anya and Xander sat on the floor, sharing a book.
Willow sat on a pillow at the front window; book in her lap and eyes on the sky. They had all noticed how she had withdrawn into herself, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to connect with her. Tara's death had shaken them all, but Willow was forever changed.
At the funeral, they'd been able to arrange an open coffin, because Tara's face had remained untouched by the madman's knife. Willow had done all the work, preparing the programs, choosing the coffin, and finding a priest for the service. Tara's few remaining family members did not bother to show up, and made no effort to thank Willow for her pains, when she called to invite them.
While the ceremony was beautiful, with huge chrysanthemums and lilies surrounding the blonde girl's grave, it was heartbreaking for all of them, not only to grieve for a lost friend, but also to watch Willow in so much pain. When the coffin had begun to lower into the ground, the redhead had collapsed to the ground, weeping and saying, "No, no, no, no…" over and over again.
Many times in the past two weeks, the entire gang would be together, at the shop or at Buffy's house, and Willow's eyes would glaze over as she replayed Tara's last few moments in her head. It was obvious to everyone that she blamed herself for not getting there in time. Nothing anyone said helped, she would just nod, and with an insincere smile, say, "I know, it'll get better."
And here she sat, staring out the window, longing to understand the rhyme or reason of the past three weeks. Wishing that she'd gone with Tara to the Magic Shop the night she was taken. Going over the millions of things she could have done differently.
Every time Willow closed her eyes, she saw Tara's smile as she breathed her last breath, heard the courage in her words. 'This is how it's supposed to be.' It was all she could do not to break down every time her thoughts turned to her absent lover. The redheaded witch kept the image of her love's face smiling up at her, telling her she loved her, and reminding her that she would find the blonde Wicca again.
That was the only consolation anyone could offer her.
***
Buffy watched, helpless, as her friend's gaze fell from the window, and tears fell from her eyes. She felt her own eyes welling up, when Spike sat down next to her.
"Don't worry, love, she'll pull through this," he tried to console the blonde sitting next to him. "She's stronger than this, our Red."
The Slayer looked at him warily. There had been tension between them since he admitted how he felt about her, but she could tell he really cared about Willow, as well. "I know…I just wish there was something we could do to make it better."
"She has to come through it herself. She has to want to get over it." He looked at Buffy sadly. "And she will. I know it; I feel it."
She wanted to remind him that he was a demon who couldn't feel, but the pain in his eyes when he looked at Willow's weeping form told her differently. Instead, she turned her head and looked at her broken friend, as well. "I wish I could have killed him for her. You know, saved her at least that much heartache." She shook her head still amazed at the evil the man had been capable of. "I just don't understand how he could do what he did and be so happy about it." She shuddered as she saw again in her mind, the madman standing over Tara's body, smiling, laughing.
"I know what you mean." He paused, sullen, lost in his own thoughts of what he could have done differently. "The part that really gets me, though, love," he waited for her to look back at him, and then continued. "Is how he had a soul. He did all that with a soul. And he laughed about it."
He held her eyes for a moment longer and watched his words sink in. When he was sure she understood what he was trying to say, he got up from beside her and went back to his book.
Buffy watched him for a moment, realizing something that blurred the edges of her black-and-white Slayer values. 'Not all monsters are demons,' she thought sadly, unexpectedly seeing the blonde vampire in a new light, 'And not all demons are monsters.' Looking back at her redheaded friend, still weeping on the floor, she said quietly to herself, "What an ugly world."
The End
In less than three days, Tara had gone from hopeful and determined, to despondent and desperate. It hadn't taken long after the man had skinned her arm for her to pass out, and when she woke next she was turned over on her stomach, also relieved of the burdens known as the skin on her other arm and thighs. She had noticed that he had tended to some of the wounds and as she surveyed the damage, she was silently grateful for the drugs that eased the pain. But that was all she had left to be thankful for.
She found herself dried of tears and could no longer see Willow's face in her mind. She knew now that she was going to die, and nothing would stop it. She felt Willow's presence, close, but a stronger feeling told her she wouldn't find the blonde witch in time. Tara's head was clearer than it had ever been the entire time she'd been in this man's clutches, but she still felt out of control. She raised her arm, looking at the damage. It looked as though she was wearing white gloves with a red long sleeved shirt. This thought struck Tara as funny and she found herself laughing a loud, sharp cackle that in no way resembled her own. There was no humor in it, just fear and pain.
She silently wished for death to come quickly.
***
MONDAY, 8 p.m.
Buffy lay against the passenger side window, asleep, as was Spike sitting in the back. Willow had known Spike was listening, but thought it was good for the pair if he heard Buffy admit her attraction to him.
Willow was musing about the two when she felt a sharp pang of despair. She knew that it was Tara's mind calling out to her, telling her that she was afraid and helpless, but Willow refused to see it for a bad omen. Instead, she forced herself to feel relief at the fact that her love was still alive. She had just dealt with the pang when she heard sharp laughter in her mind. Again, that was Tara, and this time the redhead panicked. The sound had been absolutely bleak and accepting. Tara was ready to die.
Willow pulled off onto the first exit she saw and was yelling at the two passengers as soon as she was off the highway. "We have to stop! Get the spell stuff ready! We have to stop!"
The vampire and the Slayer sat up, shaking sleep off and sharing a look of panic themselves before they readied the ingredients so when they came to a full stop, the witch could do her thing. Neither of them knew what had happened to frighten Willow so much, but both felt in their bones that it was something horrible.
Giving up finding a parking lot, Willow opted to pull over on the shoulder and do her spell quickly. "SITUATI TARA!" She practically screeched at the area where she had sprinkled the ingredients. Her desperation was contagious, as Buffy began to fidget.
The three looked down on the map of New Mexico as the vaporous line reappeared. It made its way away from them, ending in a large dot not two miles from where they were parked.
Suddenly Spike was amped and he started bouncing with energy. "Lets find this fucker. Come on, ducks, lets go get him right now; Rip his bloody head off."
Willow did nothing but look up at him and nod, murder in her eyes.
***
MONDAY, 8:09 p.m.
Tara felt Willow so close it hurt her heart. She found herself laughing again, this time with a twinge of hope. The man was confused at her sudden state of jocularity, and when he stopped his work on her back and went to talk to her face, he found himself wishing he hadn't skipped the last dose of the drug he'd been supplying her with.
Her eyes had gone black, matching his in wildness and animalism. Her soft features bore a sharp look that worried him. He was at a loss for words, until she laughed again, a smile trying desperately to reach her lips. "What are you on about, pretty? Finally enjoying my work, are you?"
She spoke directly to him for the first time since he had begun his torture. With a strained smile, she said, "They're coming for you. They will find you and you…will…die." Her laugh broke the silence once again, and he almost dropped his knife to the floor.
Suddenly fury coursed through him and he backhanded her roughly. "Now, now, pretty. No fantasies. No one is coming for you. And it is you who will die." His face was an inch from hers at this point, and Tara spit into it, laughing still.
***
MONDAY, 8:10 p.m.
"Yes, I'm sure it's him." Willow was on the payphone outside the hotel the map had shown them to. She felt she had to call the police, just to say that she had. "Yes, I'm sure he's dead. I killed him myself."
Buffy's heart went cold. She hadn't realized the witch was planning on actually taking a human life, though she understood how much pain this whole ordeal must have caused. The Slayer watched as Willow hung up the phone.
"No more talking," she announced to her two companions. "It's time for action."
They entered the hotel, Buffy hiding two small daggers in her shirt, Spike with his loaded shotgun, and Willow with her bag of magick tricks. The Slayer and the vampire followed the witch, who seemed to know exactly where they should go. The redhead still felt Tara's soul crying out to her, and she followed the pull to the second floor. Room 217.
"Just like before," she said quietly, before knocking.
***
MONDAY, 8:15 p.m.
Tara raised her head at the knock on the door. It was Willow, she could tell. Hope swelled in her.
"Room service," came her lover's voice and the blonde witch smiled brightly.
"I didn't order room service," called the madman who still held the knife to Tara's back.
"Of course you didn't, pretty," Tara crooned to the man. "That's your death they're delivering."
Her cruel smile was quickly followed by Spike bashing in the door and pointing his shotgun at the man. Before she could think, the bastard had pulled Tara up against him, facing the trio in the doorway, with the knife raised to her neck.
"One more step and I'll slit her throat."
Willow started at the sight of her lover's body. All the skin was missing from her arms and the top half of her legs. Red patches blossomed all over her chest and belly, figures and symbols littering her front. She looked as though she'd lost at least ten pounds in the 72 hours since Willow had last seen her. The redhead flinched at the blood that seemed to be everywhere, but collected herself quickly and started her rescue.
"Separate," she said simply, and the two were thrown to separate sides of the room. Willow ran over to Tara while Buffy and Spike approached the killer.
"Willow, oh, Willow," Tara's tears inspired the redhead's own.
"Shhh, Tara, it's okay. I found you," she smiled lovingly down at her girlfriend, kissing away her tears. "I'll always find you."
Spike and Buffy tried to tie the man up. Spike held the shotgun on him, while Buffy approached him with the rope. But the man lashed out with the knife he still held, slicing through Buffy's arm and then rushed Spike, who he outright stabbed in the abdomen. Bracing for the inevitable shock from his chip, Spike pulled the trigger. He spasmed as the pain wracked his body, and the shot went wild, hitting only ceiling tile.
"Bloody hell!" came the curse from behind her, and Willow turned to see the man running at them, knife in hand. Before she could say anything, he jumped at them screaming.
"SHE MUST BE RELEASED!" The force of his body knocking into theirs threw Willow two feet away, knocking her head against a table corner. When she raised her bleeding head, she watched as the crazed man raised his knife, laughing wildly, and plunged it into Tara's chest.
Willow, enraged, screamed an incantation to throw the man against the wall. She then levitated all the remaining knives that the man had undoubtedly used on her lover, and threw them all at him, effectively stopping his ranting and raving, as well as his heartbeat.
The redhead ran back over to Tara, who was still breathing, albeit raggedly. "Tara, it'll be okay. We'll get you out of here." The tears started again, though not out of happiness.
"Willow," Tara raised a hand to her love's cheek, a small smile on her lips. Her calm frightened Willow. "It's okay now. This is how it's supposed to be." Her eyes had a faraway look for a second, but she came back into focus, still smiling. "It doesn't even hurt anymore."
"Tara, no. Please." The two witches' eyes met for the briefest of seconds. "Tara, don't go. You can't leave me."
"I have to, Willow. I love you." The smile that graced Tara's lips met her eyes, lighting them. "You'll find me again." After a moment, that light left her eyes as the smile left her lips.
"Tara, I love you. Oh, goddess, no," Willow collapsed on her lover's body, not noticing its semi-skinned state, weeping for a lost love.
Spike and Buffy looked on, distressed, both of their hearts wringing from watching their friend in so much pain. Silent tears coursed down Buffy's cheeks as she leaned in to pull Willow away.
"Wills, come on. I hear the sirens, the cops are coming."
"No, I can't leave her. I can't leave her like this." Willow looked around and grabbed a sheet from the bed. "She'll be cold, she's got no clothes. She'll be cold." She started crying again, and this time Spike stepped forward.
"It's alright, pet. I'll take care of her. Just go with Buffy. I'll make sure she's warm." His voice was soft and soothing, filled with pain as he tried to talk down the redhead. Buffy spared him a thankful glance when Willow rose and came to her. The two girls walked out of the dreadful room and waited in the hall for the police, as Spike picked up Tara's lifeless body and set her on the bed.
***
EPILOGUE, TWO WEEKS LATER
They sat in the Magic Box, trying to research Glory. The council had yet to provide them with anything else of use, so they were taking it upon themselves to find out. The shop was closed and the Scoobies were spread about, each with a book. Buffy sat alone at the table in the middle of the room, Giles was at the counter, Spike sat on the stairs, and Anya and Xander sat on the floor, sharing a book.
Willow sat on a pillow at the front window; book in her lap and eyes on the sky. They had all noticed how she had withdrawn into herself, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to connect with her. Tara's death had shaken them all, but Willow was forever changed.
At the funeral, they'd been able to arrange an open coffin, because Tara's face had remained untouched by the madman's knife. Willow had done all the work, preparing the programs, choosing the coffin, and finding a priest for the service. Tara's few remaining family members did not bother to show up, and made no effort to thank Willow for her pains, when she called to invite them.
While the ceremony was beautiful, with huge chrysanthemums and lilies surrounding the blonde girl's grave, it was heartbreaking for all of them, not only to grieve for a lost friend, but also to watch Willow in so much pain. When the coffin had begun to lower into the ground, the redhead had collapsed to the ground, weeping and saying, "No, no, no, no…" over and over again.
Many times in the past two weeks, the entire gang would be together, at the shop or at Buffy's house, and Willow's eyes would glaze over as she replayed Tara's last few moments in her head. It was obvious to everyone that she blamed herself for not getting there in time. Nothing anyone said helped, she would just nod, and with an insincere smile, say, "I know, it'll get better."
And here she sat, staring out the window, longing to understand the rhyme or reason of the past three weeks. Wishing that she'd gone with Tara to the Magic Shop the night she was taken. Going over the millions of things she could have done differently.
Every time Willow closed her eyes, she saw Tara's smile as she breathed her last breath, heard the courage in her words. 'This is how it's supposed to be.' It was all she could do not to break down every time her thoughts turned to her absent lover. The redheaded witch kept the image of her love's face smiling up at her, telling her she loved her, and reminding her that she would find the blonde Wicca again.
That was the only consolation anyone could offer her.
***
Buffy watched, helpless, as her friend's gaze fell from the window, and tears fell from her eyes. She felt her own eyes welling up, when Spike sat down next to her.
"Don't worry, love, she'll pull through this," he tried to console the blonde sitting next to him. "She's stronger than this, our Red."
The Slayer looked at him warily. There had been tension between them since he admitted how he felt about her, but she could tell he really cared about Willow, as well. "I know…I just wish there was something we could do to make it better."
"She has to come through it herself. She has to want to get over it." He looked at Buffy sadly. "And she will. I know it; I feel it."
She wanted to remind him that he was a demon who couldn't feel, but the pain in his eyes when he looked at Willow's weeping form told her differently. Instead, she turned her head and looked at her broken friend, as well. "I wish I could have killed him for her. You know, saved her at least that much heartache." She shook her head still amazed at the evil the man had been capable of. "I just don't understand how he could do what he did and be so happy about it." She shuddered as she saw again in her mind, the madman standing over Tara's body, smiling, laughing.
"I know what you mean." He paused, sullen, lost in his own thoughts of what he could have done differently. "The part that really gets me, though, love," he waited for her to look back at him, and then continued. "Is how he had a soul. He did all that with a soul. And he laughed about it."
He held her eyes for a moment longer and watched his words sink in. When he was sure she understood what he was trying to say, he got up from beside her and went back to his book.
Buffy watched him for a moment, realizing something that blurred the edges of her black-and-white Slayer values. 'Not all monsters are demons,' she thought sadly, unexpectedly seeing the blonde vampire in a new light, 'And not all demons are monsters.' Looking back at her redheaded friend, still weeping on the floor, she said quietly to herself, "What an ugly world."
The End