It All Ends Sometimes...Part 7
Disclaimer: Buffy and all associated characters are the property blah blah blah of Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon and a bunch of people I've never heard of...in a nutshell, they aren't mine; I'm just playing with them. And, might I add, I'm not making a red cent off of this...I'm writing this for fun and for others to read for free entertainment. And if I make a mistake with anything Wicca, no offense is intended.
Author note: Yeah, yeah…it's been ages. Without boring you with the details, my life is busy. Get over it. On the other hand, if you're still following along after all this, I'm glad! Please review and recommend this, and the inspiration to write might occur more often.
On to the fic…
"Ok, so let me get this straight: You want me to leave Sunnydale for an entire year to 'train' with you someplace, leave my friends and family, and let Willow and her crew run rampant in Sunnydale while said friends and family hunt for the dragonballs, entirely at her mercy?"
Buffy still couldn't believe the events of the last few hours. What started as an ordinary run of the mill training session at the Magic Box dojo turned into a world upheaving, mind twisting tale. This green—guy—showed up as she was kicking Spike's ass and healed him from a brain damaging head injury she inflicted, told them this tale of her being a genetically and magically manipulated girl descended from aliens, and then informed them he'd been alive for thousands of years—all in the space of an hour. And, to top it all off, seemed puzzled by her disbelief of it all. Go figure. The only reason she DID believe any of it was due to the fact she'd seen some really strange crap in her years as a Slayer, and it all made a certain sort of sense…sort of.
"No Buffy—and yes." The Slayer's eyes narrowed in frustration. Paosh sighed. This was harder than it had thought it would be. "For you it will be a full year in the Room of Space and Time. Here, your friends will have you gone for merely a day. You see, the Room of Space and Time runs in a separate dimension. In fact, it IS a dimension all to itself—and it runs at a separate time also. While a day runs here, 365 of your days run there. So, while your friends go about one day of their lives, and get a few messages sent and leads begun on the dragonballs, you'll have an entire year of training, developing the skills and knowledge necessary to control the strength you've begun to tap."
Paosh paused. "Also, even more importantly, you'll learn how to sense the energy of others. Friends, enemies—it doesn't matter. You can track them by it, gauge their health and strength by it, and even manipulate your own in order to call forth even more power." Here it smiled slyly. "You'll even be able to fly."
Dawn's eyes grew wide at this news. "Buffy will be able to FLY?! Oh, COOL!"
Buffy rolled her eyes.
*************************************************************************************************
Willow rolled her eyes.
Well, not HER eyes, but the eyes of the body that Nina and Tali just left with. It left such a mess, too.
Tiring of her game with the orbs, she tossed them into the fireplace, grinning as the heat caused them to explode. Now that she felt much cheerier, she turned her attention to the bookcase, pulling down a journal bound in nyarla demon hide and latched with a claw and eye clasp. Oddly, the eye looked just like a nyarla demons and the claw WAS a claw from one. She opened it and began to read, but another vampire eased into the room, silently catching her attention. Aki came up behind Willow, leaned down and whispered in her ear, her tongue snaking around the redhead's ear lobe.
"WHAT did you say?"
The Asian merely shrugged and replied. "Just what I said. The Slayer and your ex are planning some kind of thing to bring you back to normal. Something to do with balls."
Willow's eyes narrowed and blackened, the color disappearing entirely. Her face morphed into her game face and flecks of gold danced in the obsidian depths. "Balls, huh? I'll fix their balls—that's for damn sure."
*******************************************************************************************************
Chip's balls itched. After spending so much time driving that damn UPS truck around without air-conditioning in the Sunnydale, California heat, it came as no surprise. What made it worse, the package he carried required him to carry his clipboard in his free hand—so he used the edge of the clipboard to scratch. It helped, but not as good as direct intervention. He shook his head. I'll knock one more time, he thought.
The door opened with his hand raised to knock for the third time. He took in the view before him and he immediately forgot about his itch. In fact, it immediately turned to interest in something else entirely as he saw the honey-blonde haired young woman standing there. Hair tousled and eyes heavy lidded, her appearance indicated his knock roused her from her bed. Her clothes supported this theory, as she wore flannel pajama pants and a tank top, covered overall with a robe. Her feet, which were bare, showed toenails painted a girly pink. Chip knew he was in love. Well, ok, he was in lust. But love might come later.
Tara blinked owlishly at the cute guy on the porch. Several things registered in her mind, in increasing clarity: Ok, a guy…somewhat cute for a guy…guy in shorts…brown shorts…brown truck at curb…holding package…
PACKAGE!!
She instantly became completely awake. "It's here! Buffy, it's here! The ball's here!"
Chip arched an eyebrow. Ball? Tara excitedly pulled the package out of Chip's hands, thanking him profusely as he steadied the electronic clipboard for her to sign. She smiled warmly at him, her eyes bright and cheerful. The light in those eyes shone from pure joy, and he figured now was as good a time as any.
"Hi, I'm Chip."
Tara smiled good naturedly. "Hi. Tara."
He gave his best smile and turned on his considerable charisma. After all, he was voted Most Charming his senior year. "I normally don't do this, but I must say, you're one of the most lovely people I've ever seen."
She dimpled. "You're sweet..."
Chip's shorts began to tighten. Oh yeah, she's interested…nice and slow, Chipster…
"…but I'm gay." She finished.
Chip's smile froze. His shorts loosened. The sounds of something crashing and burning echoed loudly in the back of his mind.
"Right! That's…cool! Yeah…cool! Well, have a nice gay then!" His eyelids scrunched up into tight knots as the Freudian slip escaped.
Tara giggled and shut the door.
Chip, smile still frozen on his face, turned and strolled back to his truck. Yep, he thought sadly to himself, it's going to be one of those daze…
**********************************************************************************************************
Buffy stumbled groggily down the stairs, rubbing her eyes. Her patrol last night had been fairly uneventful, but she stayed out later than she intended, constantly turning over Paosh's words in her mind. Sadly, not a single vamp volunteered to become dust for her, to help her get her adrenaline pumping. She found she thought most clearly at those times, but those times of distraction just didn't happen. Now, it seems Tara had something she felt was worth waking her up for.
Buffy had suggested that she move to Revello Drive for the time being until things with Willow settled. If all of the eggs were in one basket, they would be easier for the Slayer to watch, after all. After all, Willow's room had been unoccupied as of late.
"Whatcha got, Tara?"
"Look, the 7-star ball is here!" Tara busily tore at the wrapping of the box, paper flying in all directions as her hands ripped it to shreds. Buffy watched and thought, Wonder what she's like at Christmas… Tara pulled open the box top and looked at Buffy.
"Well, now we see if it's real." She stood with the box and unceremoniously turned it upside down and dumped the contents onto the floor. A golden yellow ball fell out, surrounded by plastic peanuts. It hit the floor and the sound it made caused Buffy to arch a single sculpted eyebrow. Well, it SOUNDS the same. Tara picked up a note that had nestled in the packing.
"In case you were wondering, the packing isn't to protect the orb. As near as I can tell the thing is indestructible—I just needed something to keep it from banging around." –Lethe
Tara smiled. Three down, four to go—they had the 7-star ball.
*************************************************************************************************************
Willow prowled up and down the floor, mumbling sotto voce as she turned her information over in her mind, her steps distracted and obsessed. Balls…balls…why does that sound so—
*GASP*
"They can't be—"
She turned on her heel and shouted, "Rebeka! Get in here, now!"
Without waiting for an answer, she booted her computer and opened her browser, eyes narrowed in concentration. Fingers dancing, she typed in a search word and waited impatiently for 3 seconds for the results to pop up. Her eyes widened and she quickly typed in the URL to a website and did a search there. The words she found caused her to stop, her senses reeling and numbed. "Bidding is closed for this item", it said. Directly beneath the yellow bordered box in blue letters was the auction's winning buyer—and her lips curled in fury.
WilsWitch.
Rebeka careened into the room, her eyes wide, clothes disheveled.
"She's so dead."
"Who's dead, Willow?"
"Tara. Tara's going to die. I've put it off, waiting for just the right time to kill and turn her, but that time is now." Willow turned to face her childe. "We're going to rain on her little parade, crash her party, and otherwise ruin her day."
She turned back to the computer. "I found what 'balls' they're talking about."
Rebeka frowned. "What, the balls that Aki told you about yesterday?" The raven haired vampire frowned. "What are they then?"
Willow smiled. "They're called 'Dragonballs' darling, and if we play our cards right, they just might be our victory's keystone instead of the key to our defeat."
*********************************************************************************************
Author's Note: Yeah, short chapter. Work is wild these days. Note to self: Next time a big corporation wants to buy your company, make sure they don't fire your boss…