CHAPTER 16
In her twenty plus years of life, Willow Rosenberg had never been awakened by pain. The searing pain in her left arm coupled by the cacophony of voices screaming inside her tiny skull changed that.
First time for everything, she managed to think through the haze of pain.
She whimpered meekly as she tried to force herself up. Not wishing to aggravate her left shoulder any further, she struggled to her knees with the use of only one arm. A wave of nausea ripped through the red head as she struggled to sit up. She definitely had a concussion. She placed her a tentative hand to her head and was startled when her palm came back, smeared with blood.
"Oh, that can't be good," she whispered, studying it with an odd sort of fascination. The sight of blood had snapped her back into the reality of the situation. Something bad had happened here. One minute, her, Tara and Xander were watching Faith wipe the back yard with some nasty looking demons and the next, she felt as if her arm was seceding from the rest of her body. She glanced absently at said arm. That can't be right, she thought as she studied it. Her shoulder was no longer 'shoulder-level', rather several inches lower than it should have been. Her eyes widened at the sight of it until they drifted to the body to her left.
"Tara!" she yelled, scooting over to her unconscious ex-lover. Fear gripped Willow at the sight of Tara's injuries. Her right arm splayed away from her body at an odd angle. Whatever had befallen Willow had happened to her as well. Tara's blond locks were a darkened hue, matted with blood.
"Baby," Willow cooed, reaching a tentative hand towards the injured Wicca. She brushed Tara's head aside and had the wherewithal to feel for a pulse. It took a moment for confirmation but she had a steady pulse going and at the realization, Willow let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
"Tara," she resumed. She ran the back of her hand softly against the Tara's head, her eyes closed, almost willing her to wake up. A faint moan escaped Tara's swollen lips and Willow's eyes shot open, filling with tears of relief.
"Willow?" she asked groggily. She tried to push her way up but cried out as she discovered the exquisite pain in her arm.
"Don't try to move, sweetie," Willow warned and moved over to Tara's good side.
"My arm," she started.
"I know, I think it's dislocated. Don't worry, you're not alone," Tara slowly turned her head to face Willow and the red head pointed to her own souvenir. "Looks like we've got a matching set," she quipped despite severe discomfort.
Notwithstanding her own pain, Tara smiled, though it came out more like a grimace. She almost managed a laugh but her face scrunched in concentration.
"Do you hear that?" she asked.
Willow only stared at her focused lover, lost. She then stilled her mind and there it was. A steady, whimpering. To be honest, she had heard it before but was too concerned with Tara and her own injuries to pay it much attention.
"It sounds like somebody crying," Willow said and her heart stopped.
"Dawn," they both said in unison.
"We have to see if she's okay," Tara said, snaking her arm around Willow's waist as the red head mimicked her. It took a few minutes of struggling, and coupled with grunts of pain, they managed to get to their feet.
"Whoa," Tara said as she swayed.
"You okay, sweetie?" Willow asked.
"Yeah," she reassured. "Just kinda got sucked onto the pain train is all." They both smiled, gaining strength from one another's touch. Their smiles faded as the sorrow-filled cries echoed through the winds.
"It's coming from the back yard," Willow said. They both took measured strides down the steps, cautious of jarring their already throbbing injuries. Each step they took was marred with a painful reminder yet they continued forth without complaint. They scanned the yard when their gaze fell upon the huddled figure.
"Faith," Tara whispered.
The young girl lay on her side, knees drawn up to her chin, her hands pressed to her head. Her body twitched at irregular intervals and it didn't take much for the two to recognize that something happened. Something bad.
The two Wiccas hobbled up to Faith's wrecked form. She was talking to herself. In an almost inaudible whisper, she kept repeating the same word; No. Willow dropped her arm from Tara's waist and the latter followed suit. The former bent down to touch the distraught girl but pulled back.
"What?" Tara asked.
"Well, I don't want to get her all stainy with blood, you know."
Tara smiled at Willow's uncertainty. Her eyebrows were arched in that way of hers when she didn't know what to do. Tara ran her knuckles down the right side of Willow's face. How she loved the petite red head. She was never really complete until she stumbled across Willow Rosenberg in the Wicca group meetings. How long had it been? Two years? Almost three. How quickly time scampered away with it all. The memories of bliss coupled with that of heartache. It was a roller coaster ride to the nth degree, the only thing constant her love for Willow. No matter what happened, she would always love her.
She pulled herself back into reality and focused on the shaking woman in the grass. She'd have plenty of time to tell Willow how she felt. Now, she had to focus on Faith.
"Faith," Tara's fingertips touched Faith's naked arms and the young woman flinched violently, as if she had been struck. Startled, Tara fell backward onto her butt and winced at the pain ignited from the unwelcome jolt. She shut her eyes tightly and forced back the tears the pain threatened to usher forth. She shook it off and got to her knees with Willow's help. She reached her hand out again, her resolve stiffening. Whatever it was, this girl needed them.
"Faith," she said, her voice an eclectic blend of warmth and power. Willow looked at her former lover in admiration. Even her patented resolve face didn't carry the weight of authority and tenderness Tara just did. You never cease to amaze me, she thought before turning back to Faith.
"Faith," Tara repeated, with more force. She laid a steady hand on the girl's shoulder. She flinched but Tara steadied her. "Faith, come back to us. We need you to tell us what happened. What happened to Dawn." Tara stopped when she saw the glint of recognition in Faith's eyes.
"Dawn," she whispered.
"She's not here," Willow chimed in. They watched as a transformation undertook Faith. The childlike fright vanished and was replaced with a warrior's focus
Faith's hands dropped from her head and pushed her to a sitting position. Willow was the first to notice the blood on the young woman's hands but said nothing. Other than her emotional turmoil, the future slayer didn't seem to be in too much physical discomfort.
"He took her," Faith managed, though her voice was hoarse from crying. Her glazed eyes stared toward the house until they finally registered the two women in front of her. It didn't take her long to pinpoint the two injuries to the women.
"You're injured," she said. She gave them a quick once over before stating what they had already assumed.
"You are lucky he didn't rip your arms completely off," she said as she helped both women to their feet.
"Well I guess we are lucky with that," Willow said sarcastically. She almost laughed when Faith gave her the look of annoyance. It was the classic glare Buffy usually saved for Spike. Guess she really is Buffy's kid, Willow mused.
"Who…who is 'he'?" Tara asked and noticed Faith wince ever so slightly.
"Later. Right now we have to get you all taken care of." Willow only nodded. Faith positioned herself between the two Wiccas and they draped their uninjured arms around her. The simple walk from the steps had taken a lot away from them and Willow felt the sharp pain in her head intensify. She wondered how Tara was coping. She kept silent on the slow walk, saving her strength. Whatever was going on, they were going to need it. And knowing that her and Tara were practically useless was why Willow did not push Faith to tell her the details. It wasn't as if they really could do anything right now anyway. They were never much of a threat in the physical sense but now, with their injuries, casting a simple glamour would be a Herculean task. Now if Xander were here…
"Xander!" Willow yelped, and immediately regretted it. Nausea washed over her and she doubled over. She would have fell face first into the ground were it not for Faith's iron grip around her waist.
"Take it easy, Willow," Faith said, almost smirking. Spike's smirk, the red head noticed. "I don't think Buffy would take to kindly to you hurling on her shoes, ya know. Though there is that best friend clause that gives said friend one free cookie toss on best friend's shoes." Everyone was silent as the two witches looked from Faith to each other and back again. Not trusting that their bodies could handle any form of laughter, they smiled broadly.
Faith continued forward to the inside of the house. Her body still tingled horribly where he had touched, no, violated her earlier. And her mind began playing over and over the horrors he bestowed upon her before she escaped. She only wanted to be left alone to die. But now, between these two women that obviously loved one another and at one time loved her, she was hit with a surge of hope. Things were beyond hope in the future, but maybe that could change. Maybe together, here, now, with her family, everything would be all right. As the three women ambled up the steps, Faith said a prayer that this time they would find a way.
***
They found Xander slumped against the wall, nose broken and throttle marks visible on his neck. Other than that, he was fine. Faith sat the two women on the couch before going to revive the unconscious man.
Willow and Tara sat at opposite ends of the couch, their damaged goods slumped on the cushions. They watched as Faith carried Xander into the living room as if he were a child. She effortlessly placed him in the recliner opposite them. His head lolled to the side, arms and legs splayed out in all directions, the perfect picture of a man thoroughly inebriated. It would have been funny were his face not incrusted with dried blood.
"Not doin' so hot," Faith said to them. It wasn't a question.
"Not so," Willow returned meekly.
Faith stepped over the table. Yet another action that was quite amusing, considering her diminutive legs.
"Bugger," she swore as her trailing shin banged against the table. She shook it off and perched herself on the cherry wood. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, content etched across her face while the rest of her body remained deathly still. Willow couldn't believe how much she looked like Buffy though on further inspection, the girl displayed several distinct features.
"You both have severe concussions," she said, breaking Willow out of her physical analysis of the girl. Faith opened her eyes. "To top it off, the dislocations of your shoulders' will probably require surgery. But seeing as we only have about twenty-seven hours or so…well that only leaves us with one option."
"What is that?" Tara asked. Her eyes were heavy and she looked the worse off between the two.
"There is a spell, one of the first ones you taught me. It's very complex but I guess my mixed heritage gave me some advantages after all." She sighed at the puzzled look the Wiccas gave her. "Long story short, my body can withstand a lot more than your garden variety slayer or vampire for that matter. Moving on, the spell will alleviate you of the concussion and its effects. As far as the dislocation, it will lower the pain to tolerable levels."
"Tolerable?" Willow asked, stealing a glance toward Tara. "What do you mean tolerable? I mean, you are all with the bootie kicking and punching, but we…we aren't too familiar with the whole 'levels of toleration' thingy."
Faith chuckled at Willow's reservations. "It'll be like a really deep bruise. Don't worry." She knelt between them, her face serious but her eyes remained playful. Her eyes wavered between Tara and Willow. "So, who's first?"
***
"Thank God that's over," Willow gasped. Tara had gone first to steel her former lover's nerves and did a respectable job. Still, it did nothing to alleviate the pain of having your arm shoved back into the socket. She had shut her eyes thus she hadn't heard Xander creep over to hold her hand as Faith took the necessary actions. It only took Faith a few moments to recite the incantations for the spell. The pain in her head was completely gone, except for stinging sensation where the gash in her head was. The discomfort in her shoulder was just that, discomfort. No longer did it sing its own tune of blazing agony, but it was quite obvious to her that things were still amiss inside. She rotated her shoulder and winced. It was still tender but manageable.
"It feels like I got a super duper shot of novocaine," she quipped, getting to her feet. "I mean, I can feel all the not so nice stuff rattling around and all but I can deal."
"Yeah," Tara continued, "there's no more of that 'oh my goodness, my arm is falling off' type of feeling. And that…that bass drum playing in my head retired for the evening." She felt Willow's eyes on her. "What? I can make quip-y comments too."
"No, it's not that," she took Tara's hand in her own, "it's just that…when I saw you there, your hair all matted with blood, I thought you were…" but she couldn't say it. The mere thought of Tara dead unnerved her in a way nothing else could. Even when Glory had brain sucked Tara, still Willow didn't feel the raw hollowness that overtook her when she first saw the blonde's unconscious form laying so still next to her. It was like a part of her was torn asunder, never to be put right again. Even if they weren't together, Willow knew she would be content just knowing this beautiful woman sitting across from her was okay.
A light caress broke Willow from her reverie. Tara. She looked at Willow so longingly as if she knew what had been on the red head's mind. Willow touched her hand and found that Tara's finger was wet. She touched her own cheek. It was also wet. She had been crying without even realizing it.
"Sweetie, I understand. You don't have to say anything else." That stayed like that for a minute until muffled cries broke their moment.
"Where's Faith?" Willow asked, noticing for the first time that the girl had left the room. Xander had left to pick up Anya ten minutes earlier. He promised to return as soon as he could but Faith had convinced him to get some rest. For whatever reason, he conceded but demanded that they call him with a plan of action as soon as Buffy got back.
The two women cautiously made their way toward the sounds. "Faith?" Willow called out as they entered the kitchen. The noise was definitely close by though the island shielded their view from part of the kitchen.
"Faith?" Tara half whispered. She crept around one side of the island and saw the source of the grief.
Faith sat with her knees to her chest, back against the cabinet. Her hands were pressed so tightly against her face that her veins threatened to pop through. Tara wasn't sure whether she was more disconcerted by that or the way Faith rocked back and forth against the wood paneling. Tara ran a hand through her blood-stained hair and lowered herself down to the floor. She saw that Willow had mimicked her as if to form a protective shield around the obviously distraught girl. They shared a brief glance of concern before Tara nodded for Willow to take action.
"Faith, can you hear me?" Willow probed. She laid her hand uncertainly on Faith's bare shoulder. She almost recoiled at the touch and Willow could feel her shrinking away. She knew something really bad had happened to her but they needed Faith to tell them what was going on. Willow took a deep breath before focusing her resolve.
"Faith," the words came out as more of a command this time and the girl immediately looked up. And Willow wished she didn't have to see her face.
The young woman's face was wet with tears and red from her hands pressing into her skin so hard. Her lip trembled like a child awaiting reprimand. But her eyes. Willow failed to recall if she had seen such pain in someone as she stared at now. It was as if all the negative emotions were condensed and somehow transferred to this young woman before her. Loathing. Hatred. Self-hatred. A scorching fear. All were present as Faith's glassy eyes stared at her. But most of all, there was an overwhelming sense of hopelessness in them. The back of Willow's through was choked with tears as she looked at the mess of a person before them. Not twenty minutes ago, the confidence bled off this girl as she patched up their injuries. How can this be the same person? Willow asked. Her eyes widened as she remembered the helpless form her and Tara had come across in the back yard earlier. But she had put it together so fast. What happened?
"What?" Willow asked, realizing that Faith was saying something. Tara had wrapped her arm around the girl's shoulder, the trail of tears visible on the Wicca's face. Her eyes were closed and she muttered something Willow couldn't quite hear.
"Don't let him take me," Faith pled. The desperation in her voice was heart wrenching and it took all of Willow's effort not to burst into tears. "Please don't let him take me. Please." Fresh tears poured from Faith's eyes and Willow couldn't help but pull the frantic girl's head into her body.
"Nobody's gonna' take you," she reassured the girl. "Nobody's gonna hurt you."
"I…can't. I just can't let it happen…again. I'd rather die…" she choked before her words were drowned in a frenzy of harsh cries.
The two women enveloped the shrieking girl with loving arms, though neither spoke. Words wouldn't help right now. Faith needed to let it all out, whatever it was. But Tara did know. A tiny portion of her mind knew the truth, why Faith was so utterly afraid of whomever it was that had taken Dawn and knocked them silly. The way Faith cringed when she had tried to console her or the wild look of revulsion that shone from those blue-green embers. She could only think of one thing that could have such a profound effect on a young woman this strong, transforming her into an impotent shell of her normal self. She knew, but she refused to acknowledge the words.
God, Dawn. Tara thought and a shiver snaked up her spine. What if he tried to do the same thing to her? Why had he taken her? Yes, they needed Faith's help and fast. But for now, they'd let her cry. Tara wasn't sure the girl would ever get over it but she was a Summers; she'd deal.
Tara closed her eyes and made a silent promise to Faith. No matter what it took, the man would never lay another hand on Faith again. She knew what that entailed and what she may have to do and though she had never killed, never even considered it, there was a first time for everything.