Summary: Willow, seeking power, comes upon a truly dark tome, and makes a fateful choice. Follow-up to "Dark Bargain."
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters portrayed here, they remain the property of their respective owners/creators.
Rating: PG-13, for themes.
Time Frame: During "Two to Go," with changes in the timeline to reflect my earlier story "Dark Bargain." (spoilers)
Archiving: Be my guest, but e-mail me ( eilandesq@charter.net ) to let me know. . .I like to know where stuff I write ends up and I might want to see what else you've got.
Author's Note: Anyone who is used to more mellow stories from me is forewarned: this one is dark. Really, really dark. Don't say I didn't warn you. : - )
BETRAYAL
Part II
Willow waited for a moment, glancing from face to face to see if any of her former friends would answer her challenge, but none did. She chuckled and commented, "I'm disappointed: none of you can come up with a decent show of bravado for an old buddy, or even an insult or two? No wonder things have gotten so screwed up here in the last year: no one has that good old fashioned work ethic that made this country great any more." She turned to Jonathan, who was putting up a valiant effort to hide the terror he was feeling, but failing. The Dalorian Necromancer raised a delicate eyebrow and called out mockingly, "And what's this? You've got one of the Geeks on research detail: that's pretty pathetic, Buffy. What's next, having Dawn stand in front of you with a big pointy sword? What, did you give him the big speech about the need to choose a side and how this would make him a better person?"
Buffy set her jaw, and turned to give Jonathan a look of unalloyed support before she turned back and replied coldly, "He asked to help, even when I didn't want him to. Sound familiar?"
Willow nodded slowly, then gestured casually to her left. Andrew, who had been sneaking towards the front door, was abruptly caged in a black, translucent cube of force with sides of about seven feet. She gestured again, and Jonathan was confined in a somewhat smaller cube. Dawn gasped, and Willow grinned widely and commented, "Now, that's better. We can't have dangerous criminals running about loose, can we? That would be dangerous, and wrong."
"Willow, let them out." There was no snap in Buffy's voice: she sounded tired and beaten, but her eyes remained intense as she added, "They can't hurt anyone now, and they weren't the ones who hurt me and Tara."
Willow snickered and replied casually, "What do I care about that? I've had time to think, and Tara got off lightly. She died quickly and quietly, with very little suffering. Odds are, she's going to be better off than any of you in this room are going to be in that department. I just don't want them wandering around and annoying me."
"Give me a break: why are all of you standing here listening to this crap?"
Everyone turned to Andrew, who had voiced the angry question. Buffy tensed, but Willow's reaction was not a killing spell, but a slow turn and smile as she asked quietly, "I'm sorry, did you have a complaint you wished to issue about your accommodations? I like to think I keep a clean house."
Andrew snorted angrily, and his tone-though a bit shrill-conveyed that anger effectively as he snapped, "What is wrong with you people? You've stopped every nasty thing that's come to this town for six years now: I've heard all the stories. You're standing there like she's some eighteen foot tall two-headed demon prince: just kill her already!"
"Andrew, shut up!" Buffy was really reaching the point where she didn't care much if Andrew suffered Warren's fate, but she had a feeling that the geek's outburst was leading up to something far more terrible. "You don't understand what's happened-"
"Of course he doesn't: he's an idiot. I'll spell it out for him in nice short words." Willow looked at Andrew as if he was an insect, than continued in a loud, patronizing voice, "Andrew, I've absorbed the most powerful evil tomes in this entire dimension. I have power over life, death, and unlife for every being in this town, and far beyond; better yet, I no longer have a soul or any other moral constraints that might keep me from having deriving a truly massive amount of entertainment from these powers. You know, the soul I had when I skinned Warren and reduced him to a pile of ashes? Gone. I'm really quite happy about the whole thing now, though it was touch and go there for a while. Had a bit of buyer's remorse, tried to do the noble thing and remove the threat to all humanity and all that." She shook her head in simple disbelief and concluded, "God, I was an idiot." Willow seemed lost in memories for a moment, then looked back at Andrew and asked, "Got the picture, monkey boy?"
Andrew stared back at her for a moment, then began giggling in a high-pitched, rapid manner that announced madness. Willow watched him with the expression of a sculptor looking at a promising piece of her work, while Buffy and the others stood transfixed, waiting for what would undoubtedly be a terrible conclusion to this confrontation. Andrew shrieked, "It's all crap! I know a stupid fake light show when I see one. I'm going to walk right through your stupid barrier, then I'm going to do what I wanted to do in the first place if your stupid friends would have let me-summon a demon to kill your skanky ass!" Buffy started forward, not knowing what she would do, but it was too late: Andrew stepped towards the flickering barrier, took a final step. . .and passed through, moving a few feet away from the cube as it flickered once more and vanished. He turned back to the watching Dalorian Necromancer, and looked more confident than anyone present could remember seeing him as he snickered and asked, "Is that all you've got, bitch? Here, try mine!"
Andrew began muttering the first syllables of his most potent demon summoning spell, watching Willow and getting ready to dodge if she threw a spell his way. Willow seemed content to watch, and the others in the room seemed disinclined to approach him. He laughed inwardly and continued to cast the spell: his intense concentration caused him to ignore the growing numbness in his left leg, and it was not until Dawn screamed and pointed at him that he started to suspect that something might be wrong. He looked down and began shrieking.
A small patch of the flickering black energy had clung to his left leg, and was busily eating away fabric and flesh, causing the latter to drip from his body as a putrescent goo that created a horrible stench. Dawn turned and vomited, and some of the others would have undoubtedly followed if they had not already witnessed the earlier horror visited on Warren. Andrew frantically brushed at his leg, trying to dislodge or douse the necromantic flames, but found that they clung to his hands, causing the flesh to ooze away and reveal blackened bone. He shook his hands, causing the bare bones to rattle loudly but having no other noticeable effect as the flames licked up his arms and up and down his legs, causing him to collapse to his knees.
Buffy took a step forward, only to be stopped in her tracks by an unexpected voice: "Buffy, no!" She turned and saw the appalled expression on Anya's face as she shook her head emphatically, and knew that Andrew was doomed: going to him would only cause her to share his horrid fate. She turned back to Andrew and watched as he looked at her with pleading eyes, continuing to shriek until the corruption reached his tongue and jaw. After a few more moments, he slumped to the ground, reduced to a jet-black skeleton with a few scraps of flesh clinging to the bones.
There was absolute silence in the Music Box for several seconds, until Willow stepped forward and crouched next to the grisly remains: the look of the proud sculptor was back. She turned back to the transfixed observers and observed, "He really should have listened to you, Buffy. Do you ever get tired of people ignoring your advice?" She snickered at the expression of helpless outrage on her former best friend's face, and continued, "Besides, he's so much more useful this way." She leaned forward and kissed the skeleton's skull, brushing a piece of decayed flesh with her lips before withdrawing, stepping back, and calling out in a loud and terrible voice: "Arise, and attend me!"
Orbs of crimson fire appeared in the skeleton's eye sockets, and it stood up, making a clattering sound as it moved over and removed a scimitar from a rack on the wall, then moved to Willow's side, blade lowered but ready. Willow ran a fingernail down the bony warrior's left arm, creating a low hiss as her black aura interacted with the foul magic animating Andrew's remains. Smiling in satisfaction, she turned and observed that Jonathan had not moved a millimeter since the barrier had gone up. The Dalorian Necromancer raised an eyebrow and commented, "Why, Jonathan, you haven't moved. Why not?"
Jonathan's eyes betrayed his fear, but he straightened and managed to reply in a level voice: "I was scared of you even before you turned into a homicidal hellbitch."
Willow watched Jonathan with her dark, dark eyes, then nodded solemnly and waved her hand. The black wall vanished, causing Jonathan to flinch, and it took a moment before he noticed that Willow was still watching him. Willow gestured, indicating that Jonathan should join the others, and he complied, leaning up against a wall behind Anya. Buffy glanced back at the last survivor of the Geek Trio, then shook her head in disgust and snapped, "Fine, you've proven you can kill really dumb people with the best of them, Willow. Very impressive. Why are we still here, again?"
Willow snickered, then walked up next to Buffy until her aura was centimeters from Buffy's skin. The Slayer did not move, and Willow waited for a few seconds before replying, "I'd thought it would be obvious to you, Buffy. You of all people should understand why I'm here with you: every artist needs an audience, and truly great artists need loyal followers to spread the word of their greatness. I'm going to give you all the chance to join me, or die. The price of admission is to kill the ones who refuse, or die trying. Either way, you get to join me afterwards. What could be more fair than that?"
"Ah, the 'Vecna Lives!' scenario. Overrated, predictable, too dependent on deus ex machina ." Jonathan's voice was a low mutter, and he flinched when Willow glared at him. Xander was unable to suppress a small grin: he had experienced much the same thought, but had not spoken.
Willow held the glare for a moment, then resumed as if the interruption had not occurred: "So, who do I ask first?" Her gaze raked across the room, then focused on Jonathan, who was concentrating on being unobtrusive after his comment: "Ah, Jonathan. You're like a little Energizer Bunny: you've stumbled into the most dangerous stuff this place has to offer: Incan mummies, demon assassins, paragon spells, having me really pissed off at you-you even dated Cordelia for a while-and you just keep coming back. It's a definite talent, and once I made a few. . .modifications. . .you might actually become more useful than annoying." Jonathan swallowed hard, but remained otherwise impassive, and Willow leaned in and added in a cooing tone, "Come on, Jonathan: wouldn't it be more fun to watch other people be scared of me instead of you being the one shivering? How about it?"
Jonathan blinked, then seemed to stand straighter. His reply was to Willow, but he locked eyes with Buffy as he spoke: "I've screwed up a lot over the years-I've really hated my life at times, and I did a lot of stupid stuff to make it change, and one person's always been there to help me. I've told myself that I wasn't really hurting her, that she'd be fine no matter what I did, and that by keeping Warren from killing her, I was making what I did OK. I was wrong. I helped to cause this, even if I didn't mean to, and I'd give anything to undo what I've done in the last year." He looked down, then back at Buffy as he continued, "I know I can't do anything now to help-I'm the most useless person in this room, but I'm not going to save my skin by turning on Buffy again. You're right, I should have been dead long before now anyway, and if my luck's run out, better that it be doing something decent for a change."
Buffy blinked, stunned, and was startled by the loud snicker from Willow. The Dalorian Necromancer smirked at Jonathan and commented, "I knew you were a soft touch, Jonathan. You never would have made a decent villain. Hope that's a comfort when one of the others is pulling you to pieces." Willow turned and spotted Anya watching her. The vengeance demon looked fascinated, and Willow's expression turned friendly and she began to walk towards Anya. Xander began to move to Anya's side, only to have Anya turn and shake her head at him. Xander froze and glared in frustration as Willow put her arm around Anya's shoulders and led her to the table that Jonathan had vacated, then motioned for Anya to sit down.
Anya complied, then waited in silence, not reacting to Willow's scrutiny except to continue to watch her with that fascinated expression. After a moment, Willow brightened and commented, "So, you're a vengeance demon again! Good for you: you did that for a long time, and by reputation you're pretty damned good at it, even if you did botch your return assignment." She inclined her head at Xander, who bristled, then added, "But that kind of shows the problems with the job, doesn't it? You never know when some loser who's supplicated you for help is going to get you into some kind of jam that causes you to lose your powers or just make you look bad. Who needs it? I'll give you all the raw power you need to wreak all kinds of havoc without waiting for some pathetic mortal to summon you and wish for carnage. This ain't no lateral transfer, Anya: you'll be one of the true powers in this dimension. That fool D'Hoffryn can't touch what I can give you-and he can't save you from what will happen to you if you refuse me." Willow paused, frowned, then intoned formally: "What say you, Anyanka?"
Anya watched as Willow's dark eyes fixed on her with unsettling intensity, then sighed and shook her head slightly before replying, "I must admit, it is tempting, the whole ultimate power thing. Looking back, it was always something you craved, even when you were being Little Miss Perfect-I should have known you'd end up like this. Tempting, but I've seen what happens when Dalorian Necromancers get their hooks into a region: people are way too hung up on trying to survive to worry about getting vengeance on anyone else, except the Necromancer herself, and no sensible vengeance demon is going to have anything to do with that. Not to mention, the people who live aren't really worth bossing around, and they'd make really lousy customers." Willow blinked, and Anya added, "Oh, and you're pushy, vindictive, and I really suspect you have communist tendencies, aside from the whole 'wanting to turn the world into a necromantic hell' thing. Don't think I want to work for you: a powerful slave is still a slave, thank you."
Willow shook her head in disgust and replied, "It beats being the custodian in the salt mines, which is where I'm seeing you ending up about now." She waved her hand, causing a display of red energy, then added, "Don't bother trying to teleport out of here: you won't like the barrier spell I've set up." She smiled, then turned again until she spotted her next target and chuckled low in her throat as she called out, "Dawnie! Let's have some girl talk, shall we?"
"Get away from her, Willow!" Buffy was outraged, and she threw herself at Willow with every ounce of speed and strength within her, only to be stopped cold by a flash of crimson light that dazed her. When her vision cleared, she found she was chained spread-eagled against one of the walls, with Willow watching her with open amusement. She rattled the chains impotently and snarled, "Damn you!"
"Already taken care of-no need to worry about it, Buffy." The Dalorian Necromancer had regained her composure, and was visibly enjoying the sight of her former best friend's helplessness. She examined the Slayer with a critical eye, then added, "I don't want anything getting in the way of our little talk later. This is a good look for you. . .maybe we should talk about wardrobe changes later, though. I bet you'd look just adorable in a harem outfit." Buffy bristled, but Willow had already dismissed the Slayer from her concerns as she walked up to the trembling fifteen year old girl who had been watching the scene in horror. Willow slipped her arm around Dawn and led her to a bench, where they sat quietly for a few moments before Willow broke the silence: "You know, Dawnie, you're sitting on a big old pile of primal energy. I can't determine exactly how much, even with my new powers, but it's more than I could tap even by opening the Hellmouth. I'm going to get that power, and there's nothing you can do to stop me, but if you make it easier for me, I can make it worth your while."
Dawn remained silent, and Willow took it as a invitation to elaborate: "There's power to burn, Dawnie. I can tap it, use a steady flow while leaving plenty for other purposes. You could stay human, and even gain a measure of power in your own right, become a powerful sorceress, probably the second most powerful being in this world. I could be what I've always tried to be to you: a teacher, a protector-all for cooperating and making my life a bit easier. The alternative, well, you were a ball of green energy for eons, and you go right back to being that. No more Dawn, just a big old battery sitting in the corner for eternity, or until I suck you dry." Buffy cried out, and Xander snarled, but Willow ignored both, staring sternly at Dawn as she absorbed the dire threat. She waited a few seconds, then visibly perked up and asked, "So, Dawnie, what sounds good to you?"
Dawn blinked, then mumbled under her breath. Willow grinned and leaned in, asking, "What was that? I couldn't hear you."
Dawn mumbled again, and Willow leaned in further, only to catch a glob of spittle directly in the eyes. She stumbled back, and was in a blind rage by the time she could see again. Her hand came up, and a bolt of pure black energy rocketed at Dawn, who sat there with a serene expression on her face that did not vanish until the bolt faded from sight millimeters from her heart. She blinked, and looked up to where Willow stood, still panting and glaring at the younger woman, her left hand frozen in a warding gesture. Dawn's face twisted in fury and she shouted, "NO!"
"Yes, actually. I've got pretty good reflexes, don't I?" Willow looked at Dawn smugly, then walked in a circle around her, making a tsking motion with her finger as she added, "I have to admit, I'm impressed. You came within a split second of dying and depriving me of a remarkable source of power. Of course, that death bolt probably would have caused a release of energy that would have vaporized everything in a twenty mile radius, but still-well played. I should have remembered that you were ready to die last year to save the world, before Buffy got all insighty and took your place. Well, there ain't gonna be any heroic death for you, kitten, just a quiet corner of your very own for you to slowly drain away, for my glory. Life sucks sometimes, doesn't it?"
"So why didn't you see that coming, oh great and powerful Necromancer?" Buffy, appalled as she was at what she was seeing, was still thinking desperately to find a way out of the crisis, and she had immediately noted an oddity with Dawn's near-suicide. "You were Mind-Reader Girl even before you sold your soul to darkness. . .why not now?"
"It's the nature of her new powers." Anya spoke matter-of-factly, watching as Willow turned on her with a snarl on her face. The vengeance demon smiled coldly as she added, "Telepathy requires a living mind to work properly: a vampire can hear projected thoughts, but he can't read minds or have his mind read. The powers of the Necromancer are based in unlife: when Willow absorbed the Tomes, she forever destroyed her ability to read minds."
Willow blinked, then scanned the room, meeting the eyes of all of its occupants and visibly straining to divine their thoughts. After a few moments, she stopped, then screamed in rage, causing the others to flinch. Willow bowed her head for a moment, then looked back up, composed once again. She shrugged and commented, "Life is full of little tradeoffs. . .would have been nice to know about this one, though. Those damned Tomes should have had a warning label on them. Oh well, water under the bridge-I've got stuff to do." She smiled again, then turned and concluded, "Which brings me to you, Xander."
Xander tensed subliminally, then forced himself to turn and watch as the infinitely familiar yet alien figure walked up to him and ran a finger up his arm: her black aura caused his skin to crawl as if a thousand ants were busily walking along underneath. Willow ignored Xander's shudder and remarked, "You know, I had really moved on completely from our little fluke together: I wrote it all off to teen hormones and not knowing what I really wanted-which, as it turned out, was a blonde with a really great body." Xander's mouth tightened at the unwanted reminder of a dead friend, but Willow went on, oblivious: "But this whole thing has let me look at you from a whole different place, and I get it now: why Cordelia, and Anya, and random demon hotties, and even a damned alternate universe Tara just couldn't keep their hands off of you." She reached up and placed her hands on his temples and whispered, "You're just full of darkness, Xander: I can feel it whispering to me. That's why you left her at the altar, isn't it? Not because that demon showed you those fake visions, but because you knew that they just might not be fake."
Xander remained silent, and Anya blinked and stared at him as Willow snickered and commented, "I'll take that as a yes." She leaned on him and continued, "That's what's made you such a fighter over the years: the darkness outside mirrored the darkness inside, and in fighting one you held down the other." Xander remained impassive, and Willow closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating. Her form shimmered, and she stood there next to Xander, wearing a long green dress: her once-again red hair flowing down her shoulders. The black aura had vanished, and when Willow spoke again, her voice was soft and seductive: "You don't have to fight it any more, Xander. The others don't matter-we can be together, always, just like it was before we ever met Buffy. You don't have to be Buffy's lapdog any more: you can be my faithful guardian, and together we will rule this place, and far beyond."
Willow stepped back, and watched as Xander looked at the astonishingly beautiful and seductive woman standing in front of him. Part of him wanted to believe that it was a trick, that the Necromancer was playing tricks with his senses to make herself seem more attractive than Willow had ever been, but deep down he knew better. Except for the still-black eyes, she looked as she had before things had gone bad, and he shook his head in disbelief that he had even seen her otherwise. He closed his eyes for a moment, and-in what he now knew to be the privacy of his own thoughts-said goodbye to his oldest and dearest friend. He took a breath, and asked quietly, "And if I refuse?"
Willow blinked in mock surprise, then stroked her chin, as if contemplating the question. After a moment, she chuckled, then gestured casually. She returned to her darker motif, then replied, "In that case, things will not go well for you, not at all. Remember what happened to Jesse?" Xander turned pale, and Willow nodded and continued, "Yes, you would, having killed him and all. Of course, you finished him off before he managed to do any real harm. . .it is probably would be a comfort to him if he knew. On the other hand, I can snap my fingers and five vampires will come wandering through the front door in ten minutes, ready to do whatever I want them to, like making a snack out of you and turning you into a vampire as a bonus. Getting the idea yet?"
Xander shrugged, then replied, "So? You'd have a demon with my face and an unsettling preference for leather clothing: not my problem."
Willow laughed out loud and commented, "Oh, we've become so sophisticated in our old age, haven't we. Funny how you were never willing to cut Angel that sort of philosophical slack. But, yeah, it wouldn't be you, and if I starved that vampire for a couple of weeks and threw him into a sealed hospital nursery, well, that wouldn't be your problem either, I suppose. Demon's gotta eat, and you won't be around to worry about it. " Xander forced down a quiver of revulsion and forced his expression to remain blank as Willow leaned in close again and concluded in a stage whisper, "Of course, there is that little curse that Jenny Calendar translated and left behind. I could cast it in the blink of an eye, and leave you with an unfortunate problem. Guilt really eats at you, given time. Angel spent decades scrounging for food in alleys. . .maybe you should work on your shabby and pathetic look. Or I might just chain you to a wall like Buffy here and starve you until you eat whatever is put in front of you. I bet I could find a new way for you to feel guilty every single time, Xander. The innocent, the helpless, the holy, the depraved: these will be your dinner repast from now on, my old friend, if you don't give in."
Xander looked down, closing his eyes again, and his lips seemed to move slowly in the silence. Willow waited quietly until Xander looked up, and the paleness of his features made his eyes look almost as dark as hers as he watched her: his expression was unreadable. Abruptly, he chuckled, and he turned his head and gave Buffy an apologetic look before turning back to Willow and observing in a darkly humorous tone: "On the bright side, it might make Buffy look at me in a whole new way."
Willow's expression darkened-literally-and she turned her back on Xander and ignored him as she slowly walked over to Buffy, studying her as she continued to test the strength of the chains. The Necromancer shook her head and commented, "That's our Buffy-she never gives up. Except when she does, of course, but she's always gotten over it." Buffy ceased to strain against the chains and looked without hesitation into Willow's inky stare. Willow was unmoved, and continued, "Not really much point in threatening to kill you, is there? You've wanted to die ever since I brought you back, you ungrateful bitch. I'll make you an offer, Buffy. Serve me for one year, and I'll let you die in peace. No more fighting, no more struggling, just the sweet embrace of the grave that you seem to think was so damned wonderful." She stepped forward, and there was cold menace in her voice as she continued, "If you refuse me, I will chain you to the highest tower in Sunnydale and put a spell on you so that you will never die, or sleep, or know a moment's peace as long as I rule here. You will see, and hear, and feel every atrocity I am responsible for in this place you spent so long protecting-forever, knowing that I will never release you."
Willow paused, then waited for Buffy to react to the threat. The Slayer blinked, then narrowed her eyes at the Necromancer and replied, "Never is a long time, Willow, and if I ever get free, one of us is going to die. Oh, and way to lift a lingering torture from Tolkien, Willow. There wasn't a section in those Tomes about original concepts, was there?"
Willow took a step back, and her expression was irritated. After a moment, she shrugged and walked back to the center of the room, looking at the five people who had all stared at ugly fates and not flinched. She sighed and commented, "I should have known. It's way too tempting to play the noble hero, even when things really are hopeless. Oh, well. . .I can throw you all into deep, dark dungeons to keep you out of the way while I take over here: maybe a few months of staring into the abyss will soften you up a bit." She paused, smiled and added, "Of course, there are some who might be more receptive to my offers." The other occupants of the room tensed as Willow turned to the south and concentrated briefly before commenting, "No. . .that group is entangled in their own unpleasantness: I'll let them settle things out before I pay a call there. Although it might be fun to pay Faith a visit soon." She looked around the room and remarked, "Not to mention, there's a member of our little group missing, isn't there? How did I forget about him?" Buffy and Xander exchanged alarmed expressions as Willow closed her eyes and concentrated. A small area of inky blackness appeared on the floor about ten feet from Willow, glowed, then vanished, leaving a humanoid male stripped to the waist, burns visible on several spots on his body. Willow chuckled and called out, "Hello, Spike. Been up to anything interesting lately?"
Spike tensed, then stood and turned around, already complaining as he did so: "Now see here, Re--!" He stopped in mid-sentence as he took in Willow's new appearance, and amended his comments: "-Willow. New look for you-reminds me of a lady I ran into last year who grabbed me by the throat. Mind telling me why I'm here?"
Willow smiled seductively and walked over to Spike, squeezing his arm and looking at the burns and bruises on his body. She shook her head in mock dismay and waved a hand, causing black energy to flicker across the wounds for several seconds. When the flickers faded, the injuries were gone. The Necromancer laughed and commented, "That's better: can't have you looking all beaten up. The others might think you were doing Buffy again." Spike's eyes narrowed, and he visibly examined Willow, noting the changes in appearance and behavior; after a moment, he shook his head. Willow noted the reaction and asked, "Something on your mind, Spike?"
Spike looked at Willow for a moment, then shook his head and replied, "I saw this coming for months now. Play with the forces of darkness long enough, and they suck you in, and the only question is what's left afterwards." He turned and noted the presence of the others, and he paused when he spotted Xander and added simply, "I warned you." Xander nodded slowly, and did not dispute Spike's words. The vampire shook his head again and turned back to Willow before asking, "So you've become the new Big Bad and you're about to murder all of your friends. How neat for you. Why am I here?"
Willow laughed again, then replied, "I offered them all the chance to work for me, and they refused me, which means they all get to suffer horribly, then die-if they're lucky. I was a bit miffed, then I remembered you, Spike. You made me an offer once to change my way of thinking, and I turned you down. I thought the least I could do was to return the favor. I know your history: you're a formidable ally, or at least you will be once you discard this momentary flirtation with moral ambiguity. I want you as my enforcer, the face of my authority in this place. When they see your face, they will think of me and tremble."
Spike considered Willow's words, then snickered and replied, "Oh, right. That's the effect I've striven for the last hundred years-to have my face make people think of why they're scared senseless of someone else. What's in it for me, Willow? And don't bother threatening to kill me-we both know that I'm not adverse to ending it all if things get too unpleasant."
Willow's expression turned innocent, and she replied, "Threaten to kill you? Why would I want to do that, Spike? There are so much more useful ways to get you to do what I want. Like this." She stared at the vampire and concentrated for a moment, extending her right hand outward, palm upward. After a moment, there was a shimmer of red light and a flat, rectangular object made of metal and plastic appeared in the open palm. Spike stared, comprehending and yet not wanting to believe. Willow nodded and commented, "Amazing how this little thing caused you so much trouble, isn't it?" She closed her hand on it, and after a moment dust and metal fragments fell to the floor.
Spike's eyes narrowed, and he quickly walked over to Jonathan and smacked him on the back of the head, causing the ex-Geek Trio member to cry out in pain and glare at the vampire. Spike waited until it was obvious that he was feeling no pain, then walked back over to Willow and remarked, "Well, that's a relief. Doesn't particularly make me want to be your lackey, though. Now that you've destroyed that annoying little piece of technology, I repeat: what's in it for me?"
Willow snickered, then replied, "I thought I'd give you a little taste of freedom before breaking the bad news to you, Spike." She waved her hand, and Spike's body shimmered briefly before returning to normal. The Necromancer smiled, then invited, "Go on, Spike: smack the little twerp again-he deserves it."
Spike looked at Willow suspiciously, then shrugged and walked back over to Jonathan. He was drawing his hand back when he dropped to the ground, howling in pain. Jonathan settled for a briefly smug expression before turning away and trying once again to be invisible. Spike recovered a few seconds later and got to his feet unsteadily. He strode back over to Willow and snapped, "What the bloody hell did you do to me, witch?"
"Oh, that? I just cast a spell on you that duplicated the effect of the chip, only at three times the force. Hurts, doesn't it?" Spike's expression turned appalled as Willow circled him, shaking her head sadly as she elaborated, "You see, Spike, I can do all kinds of nasty things to the other people in this room, but I might as well be God to you. I can cast a spell in a blink of an eye that will make the touch of air as painful to you as anything the chip ever did to you. I can make it so drinking blood feels like drinking battery acid. Oh, and I can give you your soul back, but I could do that before, so I'll probably pass on that, since some people here apparently think I lack originality in my torments." Willow saw a flicker of unreadable emotion flash across Spike's face, and wondered about it momentarily before dismissing it from her mind and changing tack: "As for what I can give you. . .I believe this packaging is acceptable?" She pointed at Buffy, and the Slayer's eyes widened in horror as she saw Spike looking at her with a neutral expression. The vampire looked at Buffy silently for several seconds, then turned back to Willow with a raised eyebrow. Willow nodded and elaborated, "I'll give her to you, Spike, with a spell or two to keep her nice and docile. You can turn her or not, I don't care. Swear to serve me, and Buffy is yours, lock, stock and barrel."
Buffy was silent, but sweat began to trickle down her brow as she watched Spike consider the offer. He turned back to Buffy, and the look he gave her was as wicked as anything she had ever seen from him. She closed her eyes and felt a small part of her begin to die. A masculine snicker aroused her from her moment of despair, and she opened her eyes and watched in astonishment as Spike began laughing loudly, his expression openly contemptuous. Willow glared at him and asked, "What's so funny?"
Spike took a moment to regain his composure, then locked eyes with the angry Necromancer and replied, "You silly bint, if I'd wanted her that way, I could have had her six months ago, fangs and all. She's been asleep in my presence, alone and helpless, and the chip didn't work against her. If I had wanted her docile, I would have run off with the damned BuffyBot last summer." He looked over at Buffy, and an apologetic expression crossed his face briefly before he continued, "I fell in love with Buffy-the whole package, not just the face or the moves. The fact that I haven't really gotten the hang of showing it to her properly doesn't change that." He turned back to Willow and concluded, "There was a time when you would have understood that better than I do. Speaking of which, what does your ex think of the new you?"
Willow laughed bitterly and responded, "She's dead: Warren shot her and Buffy, I killed Warren, and Buffy and the others tried to protect the Geeks from me. Bad move: I found these books Tara had been hiding and-"
"Wackiness ensued. Yeah, I get it." Spike sounded weary, and he watched the Necromancer for a moment before sighing and adding, "In case you don't get the picture, I'm not going to play this game, Willow. I won't be anyone's lackey ever again, and if I wanted to see a world reduced to mindless servitude to some evil hellbitch, I would have let Angelus open Acathla four years ago. I can't stop you, but I won't help you." Spike paused, forced a grin, and concluded, "So piss off, Red. The evil vampire won't be your way to save face today."
Willow's aura expanded and grew even darker, and she intoned, "So be it." She paused, then continued, "I guess I'll just have to do it myself, then. After I take care of one more thing." She whirled and pointed at the front door, which was opening. A bolt of power leaped from her fingers and struck the man entering flush in the chest, causing him to gasp and stumble forward before crumpling into a heap. Willow grinned and walked over to the man, dragging him forward to an open area of floor. Dawn recognized the helpless figure first and gasped, "Giles!"
"Yeah, looks like the parental unit came back to town to see what we've been up to. Bet he's pretty ticked off right now." Willow's tone was scornful, and Giles reacted, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled to regain consciousness. The Necromancer ignored him as she continued: "He's stuffed full of energy to the eyeballs-I sensed a magical power surge to the east not long ago, and that must have been it. Some coven back in the Mother Country probably decided that they needed to send someone to deal with little old me, and gave him a nice little supercharge before sending him along. Pity they didn't know I had access to the Tomes, or they might have tried something a little less dangerous to them, since I'm going to suck every last bit of power from him and use it to kill them. After I deal with you, of course."
Willow sensed motion from around her, and snorted in contempt as she gestured once: a wave of force issued from her that tossed everyone not already against a wall back into one, stunning them. Willow shook her head, then started reaching for Giles' heart, her hand crackling with crimson fire.
A loud, inhuman cry came from the open doorway. It sounded vaguely familiar to Willow, but she could not place it as she looked up to see a figure cloaked in blue-green fire and raising a hand in her direction. A massive burst of energy leaped forward and slammed into Willow's chest, blasting her back fifty feet through the wall into Buffy's training room. Her protective aura absorbed most of the force, but she was still dazed momentarily as she regained her feet and walked back through the opening, muttering, "All right, someone apparently hasn't got the memo yet. I'm the heavy in this part of -" She stopped dead in her tracks, and-for the first time since being changed into a force of pure evil-was paralyzed by genuine shock.
Tara McLay, the Nemesis, stood in the entry hall of the Magic Box, wearing her battle gear and a crackling aura of azure flame. There was no trace of love or joy at reunion on her face, only betrayal and pure rage. The others watched in shock equal to Willow's, and for a timeless moment the only sound was of the power emanating from the bodies of the Nemesis and the Necromancer.
. . .to be continued
As before, comments are welcome and desired.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters portrayed here, they remain the property of their respective owners/creators.
Rating: PG-13, for themes.
Time Frame: During "Two to Go," with changes in the timeline to reflect my earlier story "Dark Bargain." (spoilers)
Archiving: Be my guest, but e-mail me ( eilandesq@charter.net ) to let me know. . .I like to know where stuff I write ends up and I might want to see what else you've got.
Author's Note: Anyone who is used to more mellow stories from me is forewarned: this one is dark. Really, really dark. Don't say I didn't warn you. : - )
BETRAYAL
Part II
Willow waited for a moment, glancing from face to face to see if any of her former friends would answer her challenge, but none did. She chuckled and commented, "I'm disappointed: none of you can come up with a decent show of bravado for an old buddy, or even an insult or two? No wonder things have gotten so screwed up here in the last year: no one has that good old fashioned work ethic that made this country great any more." She turned to Jonathan, who was putting up a valiant effort to hide the terror he was feeling, but failing. The Dalorian Necromancer raised a delicate eyebrow and called out mockingly, "And what's this? You've got one of the Geeks on research detail: that's pretty pathetic, Buffy. What's next, having Dawn stand in front of you with a big pointy sword? What, did you give him the big speech about the need to choose a side and how this would make him a better person?"
Buffy set her jaw, and turned to give Jonathan a look of unalloyed support before she turned back and replied coldly, "He asked to help, even when I didn't want him to. Sound familiar?"
Willow nodded slowly, then gestured casually to her left. Andrew, who had been sneaking towards the front door, was abruptly caged in a black, translucent cube of force with sides of about seven feet. She gestured again, and Jonathan was confined in a somewhat smaller cube. Dawn gasped, and Willow grinned widely and commented, "Now, that's better. We can't have dangerous criminals running about loose, can we? That would be dangerous, and wrong."
"Willow, let them out." There was no snap in Buffy's voice: she sounded tired and beaten, but her eyes remained intense as she added, "They can't hurt anyone now, and they weren't the ones who hurt me and Tara."
Willow snickered and replied casually, "What do I care about that? I've had time to think, and Tara got off lightly. She died quickly and quietly, with very little suffering. Odds are, she's going to be better off than any of you in this room are going to be in that department. I just don't want them wandering around and annoying me."
"Give me a break: why are all of you standing here listening to this crap?"
Everyone turned to Andrew, who had voiced the angry question. Buffy tensed, but Willow's reaction was not a killing spell, but a slow turn and smile as she asked quietly, "I'm sorry, did you have a complaint you wished to issue about your accommodations? I like to think I keep a clean house."
Andrew snorted angrily, and his tone-though a bit shrill-conveyed that anger effectively as he snapped, "What is wrong with you people? You've stopped every nasty thing that's come to this town for six years now: I've heard all the stories. You're standing there like she's some eighteen foot tall two-headed demon prince: just kill her already!"
"Andrew, shut up!" Buffy was really reaching the point where she didn't care much if Andrew suffered Warren's fate, but she had a feeling that the geek's outburst was leading up to something far more terrible. "You don't understand what's happened-"
"Of course he doesn't: he's an idiot. I'll spell it out for him in nice short words." Willow looked at Andrew as if he was an insect, than continued in a loud, patronizing voice, "Andrew, I've absorbed the most powerful evil tomes in this entire dimension. I have power over life, death, and unlife for every being in this town, and far beyond; better yet, I no longer have a soul or any other moral constraints that might keep me from having deriving a truly massive amount of entertainment from these powers. You know, the soul I had when I skinned Warren and reduced him to a pile of ashes? Gone. I'm really quite happy about the whole thing now, though it was touch and go there for a while. Had a bit of buyer's remorse, tried to do the noble thing and remove the threat to all humanity and all that." She shook her head in simple disbelief and concluded, "God, I was an idiot." Willow seemed lost in memories for a moment, then looked back at Andrew and asked, "Got the picture, monkey boy?"
Andrew stared back at her for a moment, then began giggling in a high-pitched, rapid manner that announced madness. Willow watched him with the expression of a sculptor looking at a promising piece of her work, while Buffy and the others stood transfixed, waiting for what would undoubtedly be a terrible conclusion to this confrontation. Andrew shrieked, "It's all crap! I know a stupid fake light show when I see one. I'm going to walk right through your stupid barrier, then I'm going to do what I wanted to do in the first place if your stupid friends would have let me-summon a demon to kill your skanky ass!" Buffy started forward, not knowing what she would do, but it was too late: Andrew stepped towards the flickering barrier, took a final step. . .and passed through, moving a few feet away from the cube as it flickered once more and vanished. He turned back to the watching Dalorian Necromancer, and looked more confident than anyone present could remember seeing him as he snickered and asked, "Is that all you've got, bitch? Here, try mine!"
Andrew began muttering the first syllables of his most potent demon summoning spell, watching Willow and getting ready to dodge if she threw a spell his way. Willow seemed content to watch, and the others in the room seemed disinclined to approach him. He laughed inwardly and continued to cast the spell: his intense concentration caused him to ignore the growing numbness in his left leg, and it was not until Dawn screamed and pointed at him that he started to suspect that something might be wrong. He looked down and began shrieking.
A small patch of the flickering black energy had clung to his left leg, and was busily eating away fabric and flesh, causing the latter to drip from his body as a putrescent goo that created a horrible stench. Dawn turned and vomited, and some of the others would have undoubtedly followed if they had not already witnessed the earlier horror visited on Warren. Andrew frantically brushed at his leg, trying to dislodge or douse the necromantic flames, but found that they clung to his hands, causing the flesh to ooze away and reveal blackened bone. He shook his hands, causing the bare bones to rattle loudly but having no other noticeable effect as the flames licked up his arms and up and down his legs, causing him to collapse to his knees.
Buffy took a step forward, only to be stopped in her tracks by an unexpected voice: "Buffy, no!" She turned and saw the appalled expression on Anya's face as she shook her head emphatically, and knew that Andrew was doomed: going to him would only cause her to share his horrid fate. She turned back to Andrew and watched as he looked at her with pleading eyes, continuing to shriek until the corruption reached his tongue and jaw. After a few more moments, he slumped to the ground, reduced to a jet-black skeleton with a few scraps of flesh clinging to the bones.
There was absolute silence in the Music Box for several seconds, until Willow stepped forward and crouched next to the grisly remains: the look of the proud sculptor was back. She turned back to the transfixed observers and observed, "He really should have listened to you, Buffy. Do you ever get tired of people ignoring your advice?" She snickered at the expression of helpless outrage on her former best friend's face, and continued, "Besides, he's so much more useful this way." She leaned forward and kissed the skeleton's skull, brushing a piece of decayed flesh with her lips before withdrawing, stepping back, and calling out in a loud and terrible voice: "Arise, and attend me!"
Orbs of crimson fire appeared in the skeleton's eye sockets, and it stood up, making a clattering sound as it moved over and removed a scimitar from a rack on the wall, then moved to Willow's side, blade lowered but ready. Willow ran a fingernail down the bony warrior's left arm, creating a low hiss as her black aura interacted with the foul magic animating Andrew's remains. Smiling in satisfaction, she turned and observed that Jonathan had not moved a millimeter since the barrier had gone up. The Dalorian Necromancer raised an eyebrow and commented, "Why, Jonathan, you haven't moved. Why not?"
Jonathan's eyes betrayed his fear, but he straightened and managed to reply in a level voice: "I was scared of you even before you turned into a homicidal hellbitch."
Willow watched Jonathan with her dark, dark eyes, then nodded solemnly and waved her hand. The black wall vanished, causing Jonathan to flinch, and it took a moment before he noticed that Willow was still watching him. Willow gestured, indicating that Jonathan should join the others, and he complied, leaning up against a wall behind Anya. Buffy glanced back at the last survivor of the Geek Trio, then shook her head in disgust and snapped, "Fine, you've proven you can kill really dumb people with the best of them, Willow. Very impressive. Why are we still here, again?"
Willow snickered, then walked up next to Buffy until her aura was centimeters from Buffy's skin. The Slayer did not move, and Willow waited for a few seconds before replying, "I'd thought it would be obvious to you, Buffy. You of all people should understand why I'm here with you: every artist needs an audience, and truly great artists need loyal followers to spread the word of their greatness. I'm going to give you all the chance to join me, or die. The price of admission is to kill the ones who refuse, or die trying. Either way, you get to join me afterwards. What could be more fair than that?"
"Ah, the 'Vecna Lives!' scenario. Overrated, predictable, too dependent on deus ex machina ." Jonathan's voice was a low mutter, and he flinched when Willow glared at him. Xander was unable to suppress a small grin: he had experienced much the same thought, but had not spoken.
Willow held the glare for a moment, then resumed as if the interruption had not occurred: "So, who do I ask first?" Her gaze raked across the room, then focused on Jonathan, who was concentrating on being unobtrusive after his comment: "Ah, Jonathan. You're like a little Energizer Bunny: you've stumbled into the most dangerous stuff this place has to offer: Incan mummies, demon assassins, paragon spells, having me really pissed off at you-you even dated Cordelia for a while-and you just keep coming back. It's a definite talent, and once I made a few. . .modifications. . .you might actually become more useful than annoying." Jonathan swallowed hard, but remained otherwise impassive, and Willow leaned in and added in a cooing tone, "Come on, Jonathan: wouldn't it be more fun to watch other people be scared of me instead of you being the one shivering? How about it?"
Jonathan blinked, then seemed to stand straighter. His reply was to Willow, but he locked eyes with Buffy as he spoke: "I've screwed up a lot over the years-I've really hated my life at times, and I did a lot of stupid stuff to make it change, and one person's always been there to help me. I've told myself that I wasn't really hurting her, that she'd be fine no matter what I did, and that by keeping Warren from killing her, I was making what I did OK. I was wrong. I helped to cause this, even if I didn't mean to, and I'd give anything to undo what I've done in the last year." He looked down, then back at Buffy as he continued, "I know I can't do anything now to help-I'm the most useless person in this room, but I'm not going to save my skin by turning on Buffy again. You're right, I should have been dead long before now anyway, and if my luck's run out, better that it be doing something decent for a change."
Buffy blinked, stunned, and was startled by the loud snicker from Willow. The Dalorian Necromancer smirked at Jonathan and commented, "I knew you were a soft touch, Jonathan. You never would have made a decent villain. Hope that's a comfort when one of the others is pulling you to pieces." Willow turned and spotted Anya watching her. The vengeance demon looked fascinated, and Willow's expression turned friendly and she began to walk towards Anya. Xander began to move to Anya's side, only to have Anya turn and shake her head at him. Xander froze and glared in frustration as Willow put her arm around Anya's shoulders and led her to the table that Jonathan had vacated, then motioned for Anya to sit down.
Anya complied, then waited in silence, not reacting to Willow's scrutiny except to continue to watch her with that fascinated expression. After a moment, Willow brightened and commented, "So, you're a vengeance demon again! Good for you: you did that for a long time, and by reputation you're pretty damned good at it, even if you did botch your return assignment." She inclined her head at Xander, who bristled, then added, "But that kind of shows the problems with the job, doesn't it? You never know when some loser who's supplicated you for help is going to get you into some kind of jam that causes you to lose your powers or just make you look bad. Who needs it? I'll give you all the raw power you need to wreak all kinds of havoc without waiting for some pathetic mortal to summon you and wish for carnage. This ain't no lateral transfer, Anya: you'll be one of the true powers in this dimension. That fool D'Hoffryn can't touch what I can give you-and he can't save you from what will happen to you if you refuse me." Willow paused, frowned, then intoned formally: "What say you, Anyanka?"
Anya watched as Willow's dark eyes fixed on her with unsettling intensity, then sighed and shook her head slightly before replying, "I must admit, it is tempting, the whole ultimate power thing. Looking back, it was always something you craved, even when you were being Little Miss Perfect-I should have known you'd end up like this. Tempting, but I've seen what happens when Dalorian Necromancers get their hooks into a region: people are way too hung up on trying to survive to worry about getting vengeance on anyone else, except the Necromancer herself, and no sensible vengeance demon is going to have anything to do with that. Not to mention, the people who live aren't really worth bossing around, and they'd make really lousy customers." Willow blinked, and Anya added, "Oh, and you're pushy, vindictive, and I really suspect you have communist tendencies, aside from the whole 'wanting to turn the world into a necromantic hell' thing. Don't think I want to work for you: a powerful slave is still a slave, thank you."
Willow shook her head in disgust and replied, "It beats being the custodian in the salt mines, which is where I'm seeing you ending up about now." She waved her hand, causing a display of red energy, then added, "Don't bother trying to teleport out of here: you won't like the barrier spell I've set up." She smiled, then turned again until she spotted her next target and chuckled low in her throat as she called out, "Dawnie! Let's have some girl talk, shall we?"
"Get away from her, Willow!" Buffy was outraged, and she threw herself at Willow with every ounce of speed and strength within her, only to be stopped cold by a flash of crimson light that dazed her. When her vision cleared, she found she was chained spread-eagled against one of the walls, with Willow watching her with open amusement. She rattled the chains impotently and snarled, "Damn you!"
"Already taken care of-no need to worry about it, Buffy." The Dalorian Necromancer had regained her composure, and was visibly enjoying the sight of her former best friend's helplessness. She examined the Slayer with a critical eye, then added, "I don't want anything getting in the way of our little talk later. This is a good look for you. . .maybe we should talk about wardrobe changes later, though. I bet you'd look just adorable in a harem outfit." Buffy bristled, but Willow had already dismissed the Slayer from her concerns as she walked up to the trembling fifteen year old girl who had been watching the scene in horror. Willow slipped her arm around Dawn and led her to a bench, where they sat quietly for a few moments before Willow broke the silence: "You know, Dawnie, you're sitting on a big old pile of primal energy. I can't determine exactly how much, even with my new powers, but it's more than I could tap even by opening the Hellmouth. I'm going to get that power, and there's nothing you can do to stop me, but if you make it easier for me, I can make it worth your while."
Dawn remained silent, and Willow took it as a invitation to elaborate: "There's power to burn, Dawnie. I can tap it, use a steady flow while leaving plenty for other purposes. You could stay human, and even gain a measure of power in your own right, become a powerful sorceress, probably the second most powerful being in this world. I could be what I've always tried to be to you: a teacher, a protector-all for cooperating and making my life a bit easier. The alternative, well, you were a ball of green energy for eons, and you go right back to being that. No more Dawn, just a big old battery sitting in the corner for eternity, or until I suck you dry." Buffy cried out, and Xander snarled, but Willow ignored both, staring sternly at Dawn as she absorbed the dire threat. She waited a few seconds, then visibly perked up and asked, "So, Dawnie, what sounds good to you?"
Dawn blinked, then mumbled under her breath. Willow grinned and leaned in, asking, "What was that? I couldn't hear you."
Dawn mumbled again, and Willow leaned in further, only to catch a glob of spittle directly in the eyes. She stumbled back, and was in a blind rage by the time she could see again. Her hand came up, and a bolt of pure black energy rocketed at Dawn, who sat there with a serene expression on her face that did not vanish until the bolt faded from sight millimeters from her heart. She blinked, and looked up to where Willow stood, still panting and glaring at the younger woman, her left hand frozen in a warding gesture. Dawn's face twisted in fury and she shouted, "NO!"
"Yes, actually. I've got pretty good reflexes, don't I?" Willow looked at Dawn smugly, then walked in a circle around her, making a tsking motion with her finger as she added, "I have to admit, I'm impressed. You came within a split second of dying and depriving me of a remarkable source of power. Of course, that death bolt probably would have caused a release of energy that would have vaporized everything in a twenty mile radius, but still-well played. I should have remembered that you were ready to die last year to save the world, before Buffy got all insighty and took your place. Well, there ain't gonna be any heroic death for you, kitten, just a quiet corner of your very own for you to slowly drain away, for my glory. Life sucks sometimes, doesn't it?"
"So why didn't you see that coming, oh great and powerful Necromancer?" Buffy, appalled as she was at what she was seeing, was still thinking desperately to find a way out of the crisis, and she had immediately noted an oddity with Dawn's near-suicide. "You were Mind-Reader Girl even before you sold your soul to darkness. . .why not now?"
"It's the nature of her new powers." Anya spoke matter-of-factly, watching as Willow turned on her with a snarl on her face. The vengeance demon smiled coldly as she added, "Telepathy requires a living mind to work properly: a vampire can hear projected thoughts, but he can't read minds or have his mind read. The powers of the Necromancer are based in unlife: when Willow absorbed the Tomes, she forever destroyed her ability to read minds."
Willow blinked, then scanned the room, meeting the eyes of all of its occupants and visibly straining to divine their thoughts. After a few moments, she stopped, then screamed in rage, causing the others to flinch. Willow bowed her head for a moment, then looked back up, composed once again. She shrugged and commented, "Life is full of little tradeoffs. . .would have been nice to know about this one, though. Those damned Tomes should have had a warning label on them. Oh well, water under the bridge-I've got stuff to do." She smiled again, then turned and concluded, "Which brings me to you, Xander."
Xander tensed subliminally, then forced himself to turn and watch as the infinitely familiar yet alien figure walked up to him and ran a finger up his arm: her black aura caused his skin to crawl as if a thousand ants were busily walking along underneath. Willow ignored Xander's shudder and remarked, "You know, I had really moved on completely from our little fluke together: I wrote it all off to teen hormones and not knowing what I really wanted-which, as it turned out, was a blonde with a really great body." Xander's mouth tightened at the unwanted reminder of a dead friend, but Willow went on, oblivious: "But this whole thing has let me look at you from a whole different place, and I get it now: why Cordelia, and Anya, and random demon hotties, and even a damned alternate universe Tara just couldn't keep their hands off of you." She reached up and placed her hands on his temples and whispered, "You're just full of darkness, Xander: I can feel it whispering to me. That's why you left her at the altar, isn't it? Not because that demon showed you those fake visions, but because you knew that they just might not be fake."
Xander remained silent, and Anya blinked and stared at him as Willow snickered and commented, "I'll take that as a yes." She leaned on him and continued, "That's what's made you such a fighter over the years: the darkness outside mirrored the darkness inside, and in fighting one you held down the other." Xander remained impassive, and Willow closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating. Her form shimmered, and she stood there next to Xander, wearing a long green dress: her once-again red hair flowing down her shoulders. The black aura had vanished, and when Willow spoke again, her voice was soft and seductive: "You don't have to fight it any more, Xander. The others don't matter-we can be together, always, just like it was before we ever met Buffy. You don't have to be Buffy's lapdog any more: you can be my faithful guardian, and together we will rule this place, and far beyond."
Willow stepped back, and watched as Xander looked at the astonishingly beautiful and seductive woman standing in front of him. Part of him wanted to believe that it was a trick, that the Necromancer was playing tricks with his senses to make herself seem more attractive than Willow had ever been, but deep down he knew better. Except for the still-black eyes, she looked as she had before things had gone bad, and he shook his head in disbelief that he had even seen her otherwise. He closed his eyes for a moment, and-in what he now knew to be the privacy of his own thoughts-said goodbye to his oldest and dearest friend. He took a breath, and asked quietly, "And if I refuse?"
Willow blinked in mock surprise, then stroked her chin, as if contemplating the question. After a moment, she chuckled, then gestured casually. She returned to her darker motif, then replied, "In that case, things will not go well for you, not at all. Remember what happened to Jesse?" Xander turned pale, and Willow nodded and continued, "Yes, you would, having killed him and all. Of course, you finished him off before he managed to do any real harm. . .it is probably would be a comfort to him if he knew. On the other hand, I can snap my fingers and five vampires will come wandering through the front door in ten minutes, ready to do whatever I want them to, like making a snack out of you and turning you into a vampire as a bonus. Getting the idea yet?"
Xander shrugged, then replied, "So? You'd have a demon with my face and an unsettling preference for leather clothing: not my problem."
Willow laughed out loud and commented, "Oh, we've become so sophisticated in our old age, haven't we. Funny how you were never willing to cut Angel that sort of philosophical slack. But, yeah, it wouldn't be you, and if I starved that vampire for a couple of weeks and threw him into a sealed hospital nursery, well, that wouldn't be your problem either, I suppose. Demon's gotta eat, and you won't be around to worry about it. " Xander forced down a quiver of revulsion and forced his expression to remain blank as Willow leaned in close again and concluded in a stage whisper, "Of course, there is that little curse that Jenny Calendar translated and left behind. I could cast it in the blink of an eye, and leave you with an unfortunate problem. Guilt really eats at you, given time. Angel spent decades scrounging for food in alleys. . .maybe you should work on your shabby and pathetic look. Or I might just chain you to a wall like Buffy here and starve you until you eat whatever is put in front of you. I bet I could find a new way for you to feel guilty every single time, Xander. The innocent, the helpless, the holy, the depraved: these will be your dinner repast from now on, my old friend, if you don't give in."
Xander looked down, closing his eyes again, and his lips seemed to move slowly in the silence. Willow waited quietly until Xander looked up, and the paleness of his features made his eyes look almost as dark as hers as he watched her: his expression was unreadable. Abruptly, he chuckled, and he turned his head and gave Buffy an apologetic look before turning back to Willow and observing in a darkly humorous tone: "On the bright side, it might make Buffy look at me in a whole new way."
Willow's expression darkened-literally-and she turned her back on Xander and ignored him as she slowly walked over to Buffy, studying her as she continued to test the strength of the chains. The Necromancer shook her head and commented, "That's our Buffy-she never gives up. Except when she does, of course, but she's always gotten over it." Buffy ceased to strain against the chains and looked without hesitation into Willow's inky stare. Willow was unmoved, and continued, "Not really much point in threatening to kill you, is there? You've wanted to die ever since I brought you back, you ungrateful bitch. I'll make you an offer, Buffy. Serve me for one year, and I'll let you die in peace. No more fighting, no more struggling, just the sweet embrace of the grave that you seem to think was so damned wonderful." She stepped forward, and there was cold menace in her voice as she continued, "If you refuse me, I will chain you to the highest tower in Sunnydale and put a spell on you so that you will never die, or sleep, or know a moment's peace as long as I rule here. You will see, and hear, and feel every atrocity I am responsible for in this place you spent so long protecting-forever, knowing that I will never release you."
Willow paused, then waited for Buffy to react to the threat. The Slayer blinked, then narrowed her eyes at the Necromancer and replied, "Never is a long time, Willow, and if I ever get free, one of us is going to die. Oh, and way to lift a lingering torture from Tolkien, Willow. There wasn't a section in those Tomes about original concepts, was there?"
Willow took a step back, and her expression was irritated. After a moment, she shrugged and walked back to the center of the room, looking at the five people who had all stared at ugly fates and not flinched. She sighed and commented, "I should have known. It's way too tempting to play the noble hero, even when things really are hopeless. Oh, well. . .I can throw you all into deep, dark dungeons to keep you out of the way while I take over here: maybe a few months of staring into the abyss will soften you up a bit." She paused, smiled and added, "Of course, there are some who might be more receptive to my offers." The other occupants of the room tensed as Willow turned to the south and concentrated briefly before commenting, "No. . .that group is entangled in their own unpleasantness: I'll let them settle things out before I pay a call there. Although it might be fun to pay Faith a visit soon." She looked around the room and remarked, "Not to mention, there's a member of our little group missing, isn't there? How did I forget about him?" Buffy and Xander exchanged alarmed expressions as Willow closed her eyes and concentrated. A small area of inky blackness appeared on the floor about ten feet from Willow, glowed, then vanished, leaving a humanoid male stripped to the waist, burns visible on several spots on his body. Willow chuckled and called out, "Hello, Spike. Been up to anything interesting lately?"
Spike tensed, then stood and turned around, already complaining as he did so: "Now see here, Re--!" He stopped in mid-sentence as he took in Willow's new appearance, and amended his comments: "-Willow. New look for you-reminds me of a lady I ran into last year who grabbed me by the throat. Mind telling me why I'm here?"
Willow smiled seductively and walked over to Spike, squeezing his arm and looking at the burns and bruises on his body. She shook her head in mock dismay and waved a hand, causing black energy to flicker across the wounds for several seconds. When the flickers faded, the injuries were gone. The Necromancer laughed and commented, "That's better: can't have you looking all beaten up. The others might think you were doing Buffy again." Spike's eyes narrowed, and he visibly examined Willow, noting the changes in appearance and behavior; after a moment, he shook his head. Willow noted the reaction and asked, "Something on your mind, Spike?"
Spike looked at Willow for a moment, then shook his head and replied, "I saw this coming for months now. Play with the forces of darkness long enough, and they suck you in, and the only question is what's left afterwards." He turned and noted the presence of the others, and he paused when he spotted Xander and added simply, "I warned you." Xander nodded slowly, and did not dispute Spike's words. The vampire shook his head again and turned back to Willow before asking, "So you've become the new Big Bad and you're about to murder all of your friends. How neat for you. Why am I here?"
Willow laughed again, then replied, "I offered them all the chance to work for me, and they refused me, which means they all get to suffer horribly, then die-if they're lucky. I was a bit miffed, then I remembered you, Spike. You made me an offer once to change my way of thinking, and I turned you down. I thought the least I could do was to return the favor. I know your history: you're a formidable ally, or at least you will be once you discard this momentary flirtation with moral ambiguity. I want you as my enforcer, the face of my authority in this place. When they see your face, they will think of me and tremble."
Spike considered Willow's words, then snickered and replied, "Oh, right. That's the effect I've striven for the last hundred years-to have my face make people think of why they're scared senseless of someone else. What's in it for me, Willow? And don't bother threatening to kill me-we both know that I'm not adverse to ending it all if things get too unpleasant."
Willow's expression turned innocent, and she replied, "Threaten to kill you? Why would I want to do that, Spike? There are so much more useful ways to get you to do what I want. Like this." She stared at the vampire and concentrated for a moment, extending her right hand outward, palm upward. After a moment, there was a shimmer of red light and a flat, rectangular object made of metal and plastic appeared in the open palm. Spike stared, comprehending and yet not wanting to believe. Willow nodded and commented, "Amazing how this little thing caused you so much trouble, isn't it?" She closed her hand on it, and after a moment dust and metal fragments fell to the floor.
Spike's eyes narrowed, and he quickly walked over to Jonathan and smacked him on the back of the head, causing the ex-Geek Trio member to cry out in pain and glare at the vampire. Spike waited until it was obvious that he was feeling no pain, then walked back over to Willow and remarked, "Well, that's a relief. Doesn't particularly make me want to be your lackey, though. Now that you've destroyed that annoying little piece of technology, I repeat: what's in it for me?"
Willow snickered, then replied, "I thought I'd give you a little taste of freedom before breaking the bad news to you, Spike." She waved her hand, and Spike's body shimmered briefly before returning to normal. The Necromancer smiled, then invited, "Go on, Spike: smack the little twerp again-he deserves it."
Spike looked at Willow suspiciously, then shrugged and walked back over to Jonathan. He was drawing his hand back when he dropped to the ground, howling in pain. Jonathan settled for a briefly smug expression before turning away and trying once again to be invisible. Spike recovered a few seconds later and got to his feet unsteadily. He strode back over to Willow and snapped, "What the bloody hell did you do to me, witch?"
"Oh, that? I just cast a spell on you that duplicated the effect of the chip, only at three times the force. Hurts, doesn't it?" Spike's expression turned appalled as Willow circled him, shaking her head sadly as she elaborated, "You see, Spike, I can do all kinds of nasty things to the other people in this room, but I might as well be God to you. I can cast a spell in a blink of an eye that will make the touch of air as painful to you as anything the chip ever did to you. I can make it so drinking blood feels like drinking battery acid. Oh, and I can give you your soul back, but I could do that before, so I'll probably pass on that, since some people here apparently think I lack originality in my torments." Willow saw a flicker of unreadable emotion flash across Spike's face, and wondered about it momentarily before dismissing it from her mind and changing tack: "As for what I can give you. . .I believe this packaging is acceptable?" She pointed at Buffy, and the Slayer's eyes widened in horror as she saw Spike looking at her with a neutral expression. The vampire looked at Buffy silently for several seconds, then turned back to Willow with a raised eyebrow. Willow nodded and elaborated, "I'll give her to you, Spike, with a spell or two to keep her nice and docile. You can turn her or not, I don't care. Swear to serve me, and Buffy is yours, lock, stock and barrel."
Buffy was silent, but sweat began to trickle down her brow as she watched Spike consider the offer. He turned back to Buffy, and the look he gave her was as wicked as anything she had ever seen from him. She closed her eyes and felt a small part of her begin to die. A masculine snicker aroused her from her moment of despair, and she opened her eyes and watched in astonishment as Spike began laughing loudly, his expression openly contemptuous. Willow glared at him and asked, "What's so funny?"
Spike took a moment to regain his composure, then locked eyes with the angry Necromancer and replied, "You silly bint, if I'd wanted her that way, I could have had her six months ago, fangs and all. She's been asleep in my presence, alone and helpless, and the chip didn't work against her. If I had wanted her docile, I would have run off with the damned BuffyBot last summer." He looked over at Buffy, and an apologetic expression crossed his face briefly before he continued, "I fell in love with Buffy-the whole package, not just the face or the moves. The fact that I haven't really gotten the hang of showing it to her properly doesn't change that." He turned back to Willow and concluded, "There was a time when you would have understood that better than I do. Speaking of which, what does your ex think of the new you?"
Willow laughed bitterly and responded, "She's dead: Warren shot her and Buffy, I killed Warren, and Buffy and the others tried to protect the Geeks from me. Bad move: I found these books Tara had been hiding and-"
"Wackiness ensued. Yeah, I get it." Spike sounded weary, and he watched the Necromancer for a moment before sighing and adding, "In case you don't get the picture, I'm not going to play this game, Willow. I won't be anyone's lackey ever again, and if I wanted to see a world reduced to mindless servitude to some evil hellbitch, I would have let Angelus open Acathla four years ago. I can't stop you, but I won't help you." Spike paused, forced a grin, and concluded, "So piss off, Red. The evil vampire won't be your way to save face today."
Willow's aura expanded and grew even darker, and she intoned, "So be it." She paused, then continued, "I guess I'll just have to do it myself, then. After I take care of one more thing." She whirled and pointed at the front door, which was opening. A bolt of power leaped from her fingers and struck the man entering flush in the chest, causing him to gasp and stumble forward before crumpling into a heap. Willow grinned and walked over to the man, dragging him forward to an open area of floor. Dawn recognized the helpless figure first and gasped, "Giles!"
"Yeah, looks like the parental unit came back to town to see what we've been up to. Bet he's pretty ticked off right now." Willow's tone was scornful, and Giles reacted, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled to regain consciousness. The Necromancer ignored him as she continued: "He's stuffed full of energy to the eyeballs-I sensed a magical power surge to the east not long ago, and that must have been it. Some coven back in the Mother Country probably decided that they needed to send someone to deal with little old me, and gave him a nice little supercharge before sending him along. Pity they didn't know I had access to the Tomes, or they might have tried something a little less dangerous to them, since I'm going to suck every last bit of power from him and use it to kill them. After I deal with you, of course."
Willow sensed motion from around her, and snorted in contempt as she gestured once: a wave of force issued from her that tossed everyone not already against a wall back into one, stunning them. Willow shook her head, then started reaching for Giles' heart, her hand crackling with crimson fire.
A loud, inhuman cry came from the open doorway. It sounded vaguely familiar to Willow, but she could not place it as she looked up to see a figure cloaked in blue-green fire and raising a hand in her direction. A massive burst of energy leaped forward and slammed into Willow's chest, blasting her back fifty feet through the wall into Buffy's training room. Her protective aura absorbed most of the force, but she was still dazed momentarily as she regained her feet and walked back through the opening, muttering, "All right, someone apparently hasn't got the memo yet. I'm the heavy in this part of -" She stopped dead in her tracks, and-for the first time since being changed into a force of pure evil-was paralyzed by genuine shock.
Tara McLay, the Nemesis, stood in the entry hall of the Magic Box, wearing her battle gear and a crackling aura of azure flame. There was no trace of love or joy at reunion on her face, only betrayal and pure rage. The others watched in shock equal to Willow's, and for a timeless moment the only sound was of the power emanating from the bodies of the Nemesis and the Necromancer.
. . .to be continued
As before, comments are welcome and desired.