Chapter Twenty-Two
A Small Success
Tara stalked down the sidewalk toward Buffy's house, feeling the latent power within her rising, strengthening, feeding off her anger and determination. She felt powerful, capable on taking on Buffy – and taking her out if necessary. She was not going to let Buffy hurt Spike anymore, no matter what she had to do!
Hyper-aware of her surroundings, as her power coursed through her, she suddenly stopped short on the sidewalk, eyes blazing with fury. "Willow, you do not want to mess with me right now!" she said in a low, deadly voice.
Holding up her hands in a teasing you-got-me gesture, Willow stepped out from the alley in front of her, smiling. "Funny. I thought that was exactly what I wanted to do. And you used to know me so well," she smirked, crossing her arms, blocking Tara's path.
Tara met her eyes, her own narrowed in impatient anger. "Look, Will," she said sarcastically. "I'd love to stay and have this little chat with you. But I'm a little busy at the moment. I'll catch you later." With a flick of Tara's wrist, Willow was slammed against the wall of the building beside them, out of Tara's way, and she continued down the sidewalk.
When Willow pulled herself away from the wall, her eyes were black with rage and magic. "Sorry, Sweetie," she replied in a hard voice. "I'm gonna be busy later. I say…" She held both hands out toward Tara, releasing a jolt of incredible power that slammed into her and sent her sailing ten feet across the sidewalk before she hit the ground, hard. "we talk now," Willow finished with a smile.
Tara? Tara are you there yet? Dawn sent out the anxious call. But there was no response. It had only been half an hour since Tara had left, but Dawn was terribly worried.
She was even more worried now, now that Tara was not responding to her mental call. Turning to Anya she said softly, her eyes shadowed with fear, "She's not answering. Something's wrong."
Anya frowned. It certainly wasn't a good sign. Dawn had filled her in on what had been going on, and she had actually felt pretty dumb for not having seen it already. She was familiar with Reyem Rasco – had even seen it before, a few hundred years ago – and felt embarrassed that she had not recognized it earlier.
"Willow's out there, too, somewhere," Dawn realized aloud, looking away, thinking. "We've been so focused on Buffy, but Willow must be getting stronger, too. What if Tara runs into her out there?"
Remembering Tara's expression when she left, and the power she had sensed flowing off of her, Anya replied in a grim voice, "I think she can hold her own."
The red-haired witch found herself slammed yet again against a solid brick wall by a tremendous force, face-first this time, and crumpled to the ground. She struggled to her feet to face the blonde standing across from her, panting with her exertion, but still determined.
Facing her opponent again, Willow laughed harshly, wiping blood from her mouth. Observing Tara's exhaustion, she took a step toward her, sneering, "Well I don't know about you, little girl, but I'm warmed up! Ready to fight now?"
Tara tried not to show it, but the comment frightened her. As much as she hated to admit it, as much as her rage still coursed through her with a desire to tear down this obstacle keeping her from her purpose, she had to face it. Her power was waning. Willow was just too strong.
"Willow," she gasped, frustration in her voice. "I have to go."
"Oh, that's right," Willow smiled, her tone mocking. "You have to go save your pathetic little boyfriend!" She practically spat out the last word and her smile was gloating as she said, "Don't waste your time. He's probably dead already."
Fury flashing in her eyes, Tara snarled, "For Buffy's sake he'd better not be!"
Willow shrugged. "Maybe not. It's been a while for those two lovebirds. I'm sure they're having a cozy reunion…getting to know each other again…" Her mocking tone hardened as she gave Tara a cruelly suggestive smile. "I bet they're having a wonderful time – at least, Buffy's enjoying herself!"
It had not even occurred to Tara before this that Buffy and Willow might have knowledge of things the other had experienced, maybe even share the same thoughts, because of the thing in them both. All she knew was that it enraged her to hear Willow's heartlessly mocking tone alluding to the things Spike had suffered at Buffy's hands.
Though some part of her knew she needed to reserve her power, she was only weakening herself when she still had to face Buffy, she could not help herself as she stretched out a hand and a powerful force picked up her ex-lover and slammed her with brutal strength against the stone wall of a factory across the street.
When Willow picked herself up off the ground this time, she turned to Tara, who was barely able to stand after the tremendous drain on her power the act had caused. There was no more laughter in Willow's eyes.
"Ok. That hurt," she said, annoyed. She smiled coldly. "But not as much as this will!" Holding out both hands she sent a powerful jolt into Tara's body, and she collapsed to the ground in a fiery agony of pain.
As it receded and she struggled to pull herself up, failing, Willow slowly approached her. "You don't know what you're playing with, little girl," she snarled, and Tara had the distinct impression that it was no longer Willow talking to her. "I've been gathering my power for months, and you think you can come at me and defeat me on your strength alone?" The thing in Willow's body laughed – an ugly, twisted sound.
Then she shrugged, and when she spoke again she sounded like Willow again – sort of. "Of course," she said. "This is convenient. Kind of spoiled your little plan to go in, metaphorical guns blazing, and take Buffy down with your power," she scoffed on the last word. "Guess you wouldn't feel up to going visiting anymore, would ya? Sorry."
Tara had just managed to get to her knees when Willow started walking slowly away from her. She turned after a few steps and smirked, "On second thought – go ahead and stop by. It might be fun."
And then she walked away, leaving Tara kneeling in the street. But unwittingly, the thing had given her an idea. She struggled the rest of the way to her feet and turned around, heading back toward her apartment.
"Something's happened," Dawn decided, pacing the living room anxiously. "We have to do something!"
"My God, Dawn, sit down!" Anya exclaimed. "I mean, I realize you're really a blob of pure energy and you probably can't help it but you're driving me crazy!"
Dawn turned back to her, ignoring her comment. "We can't wait anymore. If something's happened to Tara, then we have to help Spike and stop Buffy and Willow."
Anya frowned. She would prefer to stay clear of the danger, but had to admit that Dawn was right. It had been over an hour now, and Dawn had not been able to reach Tara at al. And every second that ticked by brought Reyem closer to invincibility, and them closer to inevitable death and defeat.
"We have to get the urn and get Spike out of there," Dawn went on.
Anya thoughtfully replied, "I could do like Tara was going to and tell Buffy I left something upstairs…"
"While I'm helping Spike," Dawn nodded.
"Yeah," Anya began, then frowned. "Hey. How come I get the psycho girl with super-human strength and you get the beaten up chipped harmless vampire?"
Dawn glared at her in annoyance. "Um, maybe because you're the ex-demon with a thousand years experience with violence and I'm the fifteen-year-old kid?"
"Dawn," Anya said. "Buffy was very angry with him when I left, and she took him down to the basement. I think she was going to torture him. She's had hours and hours to torture him by now, and the sight will probably be very bloody and disgusting and traumatic for…"
"God, Anya!" Dawn gasped in disgust and horror. "Your mouth is traumatic! Shut up!"
"Sorry." Anya seemed genuinely apologetic. She never knew what was the right thing to say.
"No, we have to do it this way because she can't know I'm there. You can go in the front door, and while you're with Buffy I'll go through the outside door to the basement and get him out that way," Dawn planned.
Anya nodded, then frowned again. "I don't know how I'm going to keep Buffy distracted and get the urn," she wondered.
Dawn frowned too. Then she smiled as an idea came to her. "I've got it," she said. "This is really going to work."
Fifteen minutes later, Anya let Dawn out of the car around the corner from her house, before rounding the corner and pulling into the driveway. Dawn watched as Buffy let her in, then ran toward the basement door. As quietly as she could she opened it and slipped silently down the side stairs.
She gasped at the sight of her friend, bound, half-kneeling, half-sitting on the cold cement floor, bruised and bloodied by her sister's hands.
He groggily looked up at the sound, and his eyes widened in disbelief. "D-dawnie?" he whispered. "Y-you – you shouldn't…" He tried to stay strong, tried to protect her, to make her turn around and leave before Buffy found her.
But as he spoke she was approaching him slowly, cautiously, her eyes flooded with tears, and the tenderness and compassion he saw there, after Buffy's cruelty over the past few hours, was too much for him. When she knelt beside him and wrapped her arms around him, he broke down, too, sobbing against her shoulder, "You shouldn't be here, Dawnie! You need to go!"
"We will," she whispered, holding him close to her. "We will. Just one thing first." She smiled through her tears, keeping one arm protectively around him as she took Tara's cell phone from her pocket with her free hand. He looked up at her questioningly, through red, swollen eyes.
She smiled reassuringly at him. "Just a little trick I picked up from this really smart friend I've got," she whispered, squeezing him gently as she rested her cheek on his shoulder for just a moment.
The twinge of pain he felt at the light pressure on his injured ribs was nothing compared to the beautiful relief, the warmth of her embrace. He leaned into her embrace like a love-starved child as she opened the phone and dialed, starting with 67.
Come on, Dawnie! Anya thought desperately as she searched the living room for her non-existent sweater. "I was sure I left it here somewhere," she insisted, nervously, as Buffy watched her from the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, an impatient look on her face.
Just then the phone rang; Anya tried to look unconcerned as Buffy walked into the kitchen to pick it up.
"Hello?"
"B-buffy?" Dawn's voice sounded tearful on the phone.
"Dawnie!" Buffy sounded stunned. In a voice full of false-but-very-convincing worry, she said, "Where are you, Sweetie? I've been worried sick."
"Well – you – you scared me, Buffy," Dawn replied softly. "I – I didn't know what to do."
"I'm sorry about – about what happened," Buffy told her in a voice too low for Anya to hear. "You have to know I just wanted to keep you safe."
"I – I know," Dawn's voice was very small and soft.
"Where are you?" Buffy asked again.
"Down the street at Janice's," Dawn replied. "Can you come get me?"
"Of course, Sweetie. I'll be right there," and Buffy hung up. Turning to Anya, she said, "That was Dawn. She got away from where Spike was holding her and she made it to down the street at her friend's house, but she's pretty freaked out and needs me to come pick her up. I'm gonna be right back. If you find it before I get back, just lock the door, would you?"
"Sure, Buffy," Anya answered, thinking that Buffy's story made no sense; if Dawn had walked all the way to her street, why would she not go on to her house? Buffy's stories were beginning to slip. Or, she wondered. was her cover always this shoddy, and we just trusted her too much to notice?
As soon as Buffy left the house, Anya ran to the basement door and unlocked it, hurrying down the stairs. She stopped, stilled by the sight of Spike and Dawn, kneeling together on the floor. Her arms were cradling his battered body against her, comforting him as he wept.
"She left," Anya said softly, unwilling to interrupt, unable to take her eyes from them.
"Not for long," Dawn said grimly, with an effort pulling herself away from Spike. "Do you know where the key is?" she asked him gently, touching his face softly to focus his attention on her.
"I – I think she has it with her," he whispered in a voice low and thick with tears.
"I figured," Dawn nodded with a disappointed downward quirk of her lips. "We'll have to find something to break the chains."
He shook his head. "Too strong. I couldn't break them. There's no way you could, Niblet, even if you could find some tools around here, and she's cleared everything out." His eyes were intense on hers.
"I'm gonna go find the urn," Anya dismissed herself. "I'll come back down when I find it."
Dawn nodded, never looking away from Spike. "There has to be a way. I'm sure not leaving you here!" There were angry tears in her eyes.
"You may not have a choice, pet," he said, his voice growing stronger in his determination to protect her. "She'll be back as soon as she gets to your friend's house and finds she's been had. And you won't be helping anyone if she catches you, too." Suddenly he frowned. "Where's Tara?"
Dawn looked away. "I d-don't know. She was coming here, but – but she's not…" Her voice trailed off uncomfortably.
Spike looked sick. "Red," he whispered. "You've got to do that ritual now, Dawnie. If she's fighting Willow right now…"
Dawn nodded. "Let me just find something to break these…"
"No!" His voice was harsh, louder, and she flinched. Then he said again, softer, "No, Bit. There's no time. You and demon-girl just need to go back to the apartment and do the ritual. Once it's done these chains won't matter, and Tara will be safe."
Dawn shook her head, her eyes tear-filled and disbelieving. She refused to accept his words. "No! I won't leave you here!" she insisted.
Just then Anya appeared at the top of the stairs. "This is it," she said, holding up a rather plain-looking tan piece of pottery. "Did you get the chains off?"
Dawn broke down crying, and Anya turned to Spike, frowning.
"Just take her and go, love," he said to Anya. "Buffy's got the key and they're too strong to break. The only way is to get that ritual done."
Seeing the truth of his words, Anya nodded slowly.
"No!" Dawn sobbed, embracing him again, and at her touch he found himself in tears again. "I can't, I can't! If she hurts you again…"
"That's why you have to stop her, Sweet Bit," he whispered in her ear, trying to comfort her in spite of his own tears. "It's the only way."
She sobbed, clutching him tightly to her, her tears soaking his shirt. "I love you," she choked out desperately.
"Shh, there now, Bit," he whispered, tears overflowing down his face. "I love you, my pet, sweet Dawnie!" He held her with his words, as he could not with his arms.
Anya hated to interrupt, but knew they did not have much time. "Dawnie, we have to go," she said quietly. "I'm gonna pull the car around." And she hurried out the basement door.
Trembling, so reluctantly, Dawn pulled herself away. "I'm gonna stop her, Spike," she whispered. "I promise. I'm gonna get you out of here!"
"I know you are, Niblet," he smiled up at her bravely as she rose to her feet. "I trust you. I know you can do this, Dawn." The use of her actual name with no additional endearments was somehow a bestowment of that trust, of his respect – treating her as an adult, not a child.
Unable to tear her eyes away even as she backed, then hurried toward the stairs leading up to the backyard, Dawn held his gaze until she disappeared at the top of the stairs...and not a moment too soon, as the outer basement door slammed shut in tandem with the front one, as Buffy returned.
Her footsteps above him came straight for the basement door, which in her haste Anya had left open. He cringed at that realization, instinctively drawing back against the wall as Buffy descended the stairs.
She regarded him for a moment, taking in his tear-streaked face, his rumpled shirt, and then glanced back up at the open door. She smiled.
"We've had company," she observed.
"A-anya," he nodded shakily, his voice timid, as he tried to make his mind come up with a plausible story.
Buffy's smile widened. "Right," she said softly. Then with a violent rage not matching her tone she kicked the forgotten cell phone on the floor, inches from his knees, into the wall, where it shattered; he flinched involuntarily. Viciously she gripped his hair and yanked him closer to her as she leaned down, snarling, "Don't you dare lie to me!" She slapped him hard, then released him so that his head fell back against the wall.
"And I didn't even get to see my sister," she pouted, her voice suddenly calm again, and so much more unsettling for it. "She could have just come upstairs instead of calling." Focusing her hard eyes on his, she said in a low voice of menace, "You should have told me she was here."
"I – I'm sorry," he stammered as she advanced on him, kneeling in front of him.
"It doesn't matter," she said as she pulled him closer to her by his shirt collar. "Willow will say hi for me."
Spike's heart dropped at that, and suddenly all he could think about was Dawn, and the danger she did not know she was in…until to his utter terror, Buffy began to unbutton his tear-soaked shirt.
Shaking, he whispered, "P-please, Buffy…"
"Shhh," she said, and though her voice was soft, he knew better than to disobey.
"No you're not sorry, Baby," she said, ignoring his plea completely, a disappointed look on her face. "But you will be." She smiled as she took a tiny vial of clear liquid from her pocket, and his heart sank as he recognized it for what it was. "You will be."