The world tilted crazily when the witch landed in front of them. Fear clutched at the hearts of the two students as they desperately looked to Willow for help.
"Run!" Willow yelled to them. She struggled to her feet, the aftereffects of the spells making her dizzy.
Behind her, Tara started a soft chant, coaxing out what little power she could from her wasted frame. Hermione and Ginny shook off their fatigue and jumped to their feet; in seconds they were across the roof and back in the building.
Jess watched them go, then turned back to Willow.
"I'm really not, though," she went on with a sharp smile. "To be honest, I think we need to talk."
"You're not here to fight? I believe you. Really, I do," Willow replied.
She reached past the fatigue and into the mental abyss that held her power, drawing it forth and pumping pure dark magic into her veins. Her eyes blackened and she lifted off the roof. The power scoured away the weakness, replacing it with the euphoria of the magic high. It gave Willow a heavenly lift, and she was lucid enough to truly enjoy it for the first time in a long while.
She felt the talisman around her neck heating but didn't noticed that it glowed white. All she could think of was how much more fun it made this experience. And how she could finally unleash herself against someone who deserved it.
"Look, I don't know what …"
The energy poured from Willow's mouth, a rushing black river with electric purple eddies that caught Jess in the midsection. The force drove her to the ground; a second volley arced at her, but she waved her flattened palm in a 'wax-on' motion and diverted the strike.
"I'm here to talk, Red. But if you want to go a few rounds to feel better …" A white tendril of electricity snaked across the roof and burned her leg. Jess jumped back, thoroughly infuriated now. Why won't the dumb bitch listen to me? Because you tried to kill them, an exasperated voice whispered in the back of her head. Jess ignored it and soaked herself in power and rage. A low humming filled the air between them.
Off to the side, Tara continued to chant, encasing herself in a protective sphere. She tried to extend it to Willow, but scarcely had the energy to maintain what she had.
"Burn." A massive fireball spewed from Willow's hands; Jess lifted her arm and caught it on her left hand, holding above her head like an enormous beach ball.
With the greatest of ease, she flicked it back towards Willow.
The flames roiled as they sped at her, promising instant incineration until Willow dissolved them with a look.
"You're jus' tossin' power at me, girl. No subtlety. No art. Just power." Jess gave an exaggerated toss of her head. "Pathetic. Power won't do shit for you if you can't use it right."
As if to show Willow her exact meaning, a pale gray mist sprung up over the rooftop. Tara's stomach twisted as she saw the mist billow up from nothing, then close in to encircle Willow. Restrained by the protective shield, it had no effect on Tara, but her former lover began to choke and writhe as the cloud engulfed her.
The world of air closed to Willow the moment she inhaled the first bit of smoke. It wrapped itself around her, clinging like wet clothes to her thin form. Everywhere it touched her felt dirty, as if she would have to shower for days to scrape the grime from her skin. Her lungs tried futilely to reject the smoke as it burned into her chest. Another minute or two and Willow feared she might be left completely hollowed out.
"See, Red? Nothin' to it, really. Just a little imagination is all. Not that you have a chance now," Jess added as Willow crumpled to the ground, "but use it for future reference."
Anger boiled up inside Tara, riding her natural urge to protect Willow and fueling her response. Her own power coursed through her veins like never before and her fatigue vanished in a heartbeat; she suddenly understood a little of what Willow felt when her eyes turned black. The power could be intoxicating. Unlike Willow's magic, though, Tara's burned inside, ordering her to release it or risk serious damage to herself.
Jess felt Tara's surge off to the side, but had no time to react.
"DISPERSE." Tara shouted, her voice pregnant with magic. The vapor drained silently off into the air around them. Willow felt the dirty feeling recede and fell back to the rooftop. "BREATHE," Tara intoned. The debilitating residue in Willow's lungs vanished and the redhead rolled over. Her breath returned in huge heaving gasps and coughs.
"Wow." The word came out involuntarily under her breath; Jess had never seen anyone end any of her spells forcibly before. She had no idea the blonde had that kind of power. From the wide-eyed look on Willow's face, the redhead hadn't either.
Tara heard the exclamation and turned to her. Her eyes were solid white.
"Bind," Tara growled. A silvery ball flew from her open palms. Jess hurriedly summoned power to deflect the damage, but she had no chance. The ball stopped short of her and expanded in all directions. In seconds, Tara had encased her in a transparent cage. Jess felt her power disappear, stifled by her new prison.
Willow turned her still-black eyes on the bound sorceress, an evil smile sliding across her pale visage. She thought of the scars on Grey's chest, a pink grid that she had traced so many times with her lips and fingers. She recalled all the nights that he had crept from their bed, thinking her still asleep, to sit in front of the fire and weep. She remembered his battered and bruised face in the hospital bed after Halloween, and that pushed her over the edge. The incantation came in a whisper.
Breathless, Hermione and Ginny burst into Giles' classroom. Despite the fact that it was Saturday, the Watcher sat at his desk surrounded by a pile of ungraded papers. He had been staring at them for an hour, wondering, now that Albus was out of the game, how long it would be before Voldemort attacked them.
After it was all over, he would look back and wonder how he became such a lightning rod for irony.
"Giles!" Hermione cried. "You have to help!"
"Hermione, do try to breathe first, then tell me what has you running about the castle." At the sight of the two flustered girls, he stood from his chair and came around to the front of the desk.
"It's Jess. She's here, on the roof, fighting Willow and Tara. Please, you must hurry!"
The blood drained from Giles' face and he took off for the door.
"Both of you back to your common room, right now," he ordered over his shoulder as he vanished into the hallway.
Spike had nodded off for a brief nap in the middle of the afternoon. Late night patrolling and an extra sweep to check his weapons caches had left him dead tired.
The darkness of his dungeon never bothered him. He could see well enough in it, and the impossibility of windows made for a built-in safety precaution. When he woke on Saturday afternoon, though, his stomach growled for blood and the rest of his body for nicotine. Along with the darkness, it was quite disorienting.
He stumbled from his bed, tripping on his boots and swearing several oaths not meant for the tender ears of children. After ten minutes of fumbling, he was finally mostly dressed and had a lit cigarette in hand. The icebox, unfortunately, was quite bare of blood, meaning he would have to make a short detour to the kitchens before heading out to find the Jedi.
Sirius was in the midst of reaching for the doorknob when Spike pulled it open. He was dressed in ratty black robes and dark patches under his eyes betrayed his lack of sleep.
"Puddles, so nice to see ya. Seem to be all out of Scooby snacks, though."
"Ha fucking ha, Fangless. Listen, we got trouble, I think."
"What kind?"
"Not sure. Saw everybody go running for the roof a few minutes ago, thought I'd come find you for look."
"Well, isn't that jolly?"
Sirius growled.
"Keep yer pants on, Lassie. I need to make a quick stop at the kitchens, then we'll go look for nasties."
They walked the two hundred feet to the main kitchen area in silence. The sight that greeted them inside caused a pair of gasps. Tables had been overturned, cutlery littered the entire floor, and a house elf lay unconscious in the center of the chaos.
"What the hell?"
"Somebody desperate for a late night snack," Sirius quipped absently, his eyes scanning the dark kitchen for any sign of trouble.
"Well, don't just stand there – let's wake him up and find out what the hell happened."
Black blades of energy appeared in the air before Willow, gathering strength while they hovered. The eerie black light pulsed slowly, shadowing the sky around them. Jess gulped in oxygen, knowing the fate she would soon meet and cursing her temper for fighting the girl instead of talking.
A streak of white light obliterated the knives before they could move an inch. Tara stepped between the women.
"No, Willow," she said, her voice low and confident.
"Tara, get out of the way." The words had an otherworldly cast. "I have more power than her. You can't stop me. You don't want to. She's done things to him …"
Tara remembered Dumbledore's words in Cansbury, mentally offering a prayer for a fraction of his strength.
"I know, sweetie, but this isn't the way. What will Grey say if you do this? If you torture her like she did him? Then won't he have lost you, too? And make no mistake, you'll have to go through me first to do it, anyway."
Willow's breath stopped short at how deadly serious Tara was. The conviction in her tone brought Willow's mind back to the night they had split up. Could she do it? Was vengeance on Jess worth this? Her resolve slowly started to falter.
"She just wanted to talk, Willow. Not fight. That's what she said – we should hear her out."
"Why?"
"Because she wouldn't show up here and say that without good reason," said a third voice from across the roof. "She would have killed you before you even knew she was here, or waited until she could do it in front of me."
Grey strode purposefully across the field of slate, snatching up his fallen lightsaber as he went; Giles and McGonagall trailed behind him, the latter with her wand at the ready. The Jedi took a place next to Tara and stared into his lover's obsidian eyes.
"I don't want her hurt, Willow."
Willow closed her eyes, forcing the anger and magic out of her mind. She reached up and fingered the glowing medallion around her neck. The touch of the warm wood comforted her, and when she looked back at him, tears dribbled from green eyes.
"I-I'm sorry, Grey. I didn't mean to … the magic was … and the fireball, and the chokey smoke and then the white …"
He crouched in front of her, tenderly placing a hand on her face.
"It's okay. I know. It's okay." He repeated it tenderly again and again, gathering her into a long hug. When it ended, he lifted her to her feet. McGonagall and Giles took her from his arms, giving her quiet words of encouragement as they steadied her.
Grey turned to Tara, watching the scene with a look of sadness on her face. "Thank you," he said, embracing her warmly.
"Y-y-you're welcome," she said, the tension of the moment leaking through now that it had concluded.
"Your eyes were all white." They had reverted to blue while he had been hugging Willow.
"R-really? Th-that never happened before."
"You've probably never been that juiced, hon. Sure and this is one hell of a cage." Jess was still rooted to the ground, unable to move or cast spells. Grey disengaged from Tara and closed on her, stopping only when he felt the tingle of the magic prison. He ignited the lightsaber, feeling the stronger magic pulse through him.
"Let her out, Tara." The tingle disappeared, and he lifted the sword to her throat. The heat from it tickled the soft skin of her neck. "Tell me why, and don't bother with a lie. You know I'll hear it."
"Voldemort wants me dead. It's been awhile since I danced to his tune, and he's a bit honked off about it. I need help so that I'm not the one who ends up in a morgue. Pretty simple, really, and besides, hon, you offered." She smirked at him, as if was the most obvious thing in the world. Her insides, though, had turned gooey with tension, and they both knew it.
He peered into her black eyes for a moment, hating that he couldn't read them. The green ones had always spoken to him, explained what she was thinking and feeling. He could feel the fear in her voice, though, and see the tension in the bearing of her neck and shoulders.
The blue blade vanished as his thumb hit the trigger.
"We'll talk. But there are rules." She nodded for him to continue. "You go where we say. You don't use magic unless we're attacked. And you tell us everything we want to know."
"Can we get on with it, then," she said, annoyed, "because we don't have too long before the Dark Lord finds out I'm gone and guesses where I've gone to."