Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns the universe that Spike adorns. I just worship there.
Notes: Thank you to MoeHisOwnSelf for the beta. I don't know what I'd do without him.
Chapter 10
"Tara. Love. We've got to get out of here. Can't go back – the black soldiers will be waiting." Dirt splattered on their heads, and Spike laughed, a bleak sound. "This tunnel wasn't built for magical duels. No time for wandering, hoping we'll find a way out."
She hated the idea of using the magic. She didn't want to think about Willow, she didn't want to think about escape. She hid her face against Spike's chest. He'd grown taller again. She hadn't grown taller but was … fuller. For a moment she allowed herself to worry. Would they age every time they used magic? She dismissed the thought almost immediately. The 'My Will Be Done' spell had regressed them to children. Buffy's wish for a 'nicer' Spike, she imagined. Their magic was simply undoing what that spell had done. She was pretty sure she was back to her true age. Spike might continue to get older, though. She wasn't sure how that would work. Was it his physical years or human age that would …
"Tara."
Sighing, she looked up. "I don't want to use the magic again, Spike. Can't we get out of here without using it? Maybe the soldiers have gone. They won't want to be buried either." Her voice shook.
Spike looked at her without replying, let her answer herself.
"I know. They'll just wait outside the courthouse." She looked away from his gaze. She knew she was looking for excuses, but couldn't stop. "We have to go back for Angel. Maybe we can get him unstuck and go through that passage."
"We'll just pull Angel along with us. Doubt he's still stuck, anyway." He looked at Willow's body. Tara made herself follow his gaze. She'd avoided looking at the body, but it was a body she'd made, a person she'd killed. She should make herself look at what she had done. She was surprised. Instead of a corpse, there was a charred piece of wood. She could make out pieces of a crown, and bits that looked like human limbs, but there was nothing human in what was left.
Spike rubbed her back. "It isn't really Willow. Just the game piece her personality snuck into. She's probably popped up in some other game, even as we speak."
Tara shook her head. She knew better. That might be the normal way of things here, but Queen Willow hadn't died through normal means. Tara wasn't sure what magic she and Spike were tapping. Something natural maybe, but normal it wasn't. She hesitated, finding it hard to voice the words, but having to ask. "Do you think … I was in both worlds at once, Spike, like you were for a while. Is … is the real Willow okay?" Tara scanned Spike's face, watching for any hint that he spoke anything but truth.
He seemed to understand her fear because he looked directly into her eyes and spoke, giving each word a grave emphasis. "The other Willow is just fine. I did the double world thing a lot longer than you, tried to change – stop -- a lot of things. It was just playin' out in front of me, I wasn't really there. You weren't really there." He took a breath. "I know you don't want to do the magic thing. Not exactly big on magic m'self."
He ran his fingers through her hair, and rested his forehead on hers. He was trembling, so slightly, that for a moment she thought it was a shaking of the tunnel floor. She realized he was afraid of the magic too, but he was trying to hide it – trying to be the strong man -- for her.
So like Spike, she thought. She felt guilty. He shouldn't think he had to be strong just for her. He shouldn't feel that he had to hide his feelings from her. He must think she was so weak.
They stood for a while, just stood. Tara struggled to be brave, put aside her fears. She listened to the wooden beams and struts groaning, the dirt and rock pattering down the tunnel walls, and felt the slight rumbling under her feet. The faint luminescence of the walls was made brighter by contrast with dark spiderweb cracks. She remembered the dust invading her throat and lungs earlier, and shuddered at the thought of being here when the tunnel collapsed. And she had no doubt that it was going to collapse soon.
She could open her mouth to tell Spike it was okay, that they could meld, and let the magic take them above ground.
Then she would remember the power tearing through her, and Willow's pain, and she would gag, her stomach roiling. She knew she wasn't truly responsible for Queen Willow's death. She knew that, but she didn't feel that. She'd taken an intelligent, living being, and left it a charred stump. She couldn't help feeling she deserved to be trapped here.
Spike ran his thumbs along her cheeks, and Tara realized he was wiping away tears.
He spoke in a low voice, fierce determined words. "It's all right, Love, it's all right. We'll go back. I'll tear through 'em. Fight every last soldier if I have to. Won't make you do one bit of magic. Not one bit."
Strangely enough, now that Spike offered what she wanted most, Tara rejected it. If she wouldn't use the magic, he'd be trapped too. And if they did get out? If they found the right passage or survived the collapse, if Spike managed to fight off the Black soldiers, and get her to safety, what then?
Queen Willow had wanted her as a protected pet. Willow's need to control had started as fear, driven by that need to protect.
If Tara hid from the danger, and let Spike take all the risk, she'd be asking him to take care of her. She might as well have let Willow have her way, in that case. Maybe Spike would never act the way Willow had, but that wasn't what mattered. If Tara wanted to be an equal partner, she had to take equal responsibility. She had to face her fears, forget her grief, and do what was necessary.
She closed her eyes. Better do it fast before she chickened out.
She threw her arms around Spike, opened their psychic bond, and pulled the magic forth, all in one frantic burst.
And the meld was bad.
He jerked, resisting the pull, then tried to open to it. Just as she'd done on the stairs; she'd startled him. They were a beat apart, both pushing or both pulling, instead of just letting the magic flow.
Their spastic, uncoordinated effort pooped out the magic in convulsive heaves, squirted them upwards in great spurts and sudden halts. The friction was painful, the bumps and thumps rattled their bones, and Tara was gritting her teeth so hard she was afraid they'd crack, but the magic protected them from the sharp rock and suffocating earth. She felt the tunnel shaking around them, rock crumbling, wood cracking. They were causing the very cave-in they had worried about. If the magic didn't take them to the surface, they wouldn't be getting out at all.
Tara held onto Spike fiercely, afraid their demented flight would tear them apart and determined she wouldn't lose physical touch. She felt the sunlight warming her scalp, and knew they were breaking through to the surface. She only hoped they would stop once they got there.
Angel! She was barely aware she'd spoken out loud. Spike replied, his voice gravelly with dirt. "We've got him, Love. I had him on my mind. Just don't let go, keep pulling."
Yes. She could feel Angel now -- now that she wasn't in a blind panic. She could feel the weight dragging at her feet. Who knew Angel could be so heavy? She focused and pulled, a mighty tug at the magic. She heard a 'woof' from Spike. She'd startled him again. Why hadn't she thought to say something?
No time now. They were slowing and Tara struggled to keep them moving upward, fought the inclination to kick her ankles and shed the weight. She felt like taffy, stretched unbearably, before it was torn to pieces.
"Tara, you've got to work with me. Please."
The agony in Spike's voice tore at her but she wasn't sure what he meant. She was trying her best, they just weren't in sync. Spike said he had Angel on his mind – she was pulling Angel behind them – so she must be connecting with Spike. They just weren't in sync. The horrid thought struck Tara that maybe she wasn't pulling Angel. Maybe she had latched onto the Earth itself, and she was pulling at the center of it. She'd turn the planet inside out, tugging the way she was.
"No, don't let go, Plum. Keep pulling … you've got to keep pulling. Just …" Spike's voice was ragged. She knew he was focused on Angel, taking most the weight, letting her be as free as possible. Had he felt this weight the whole time? Determination flooded her mind. She was doing a poor job so far but that was going to change.
She blinked the grit from her eyes, and fastened her gaze on the sky, and pulled.
And she pulled.
And she pulled.
They shot out of the earth, in a spray of dirt and ripped grasses, and earth spewed up behind them, rippling layer upon layer, into a huge mound of piled soil, a volcano of dirt. They spun up, and up, and Tara felt herself stretched again, thinner than before, and then the weight dropped away.
The relief was tremendous and Tara relaxed before she realized what she was doing.
The magic sputtered and faded. She searched frantically for the meld but it was gone. Spike fell away from her, and they plummeted downward.
She shut her eyes, not wanting to see the ground coming up to meet her. She couldn't see the world whizzing past any longer, but her thoughts tumbled just as quickly.
They were going to be killed.
They were going to go splat.
It was going to hurt!
She landed on Spike, who had landed on the mound of soil. The force of their impact drove them deep into the dirt pile and they woofed and puffed, swallowing great quantities of dirt. Tara thought she was more used to dust in her lungs than air; she was becoming a dirt-breather.
They were all jumbled together, and it took a few minutes to sort out which legs belonged to whom, and which arms. Tara wasn't even sure her head was her own. It felt so large and balloony. They fought their way free of the dirt pile, and found they were high enough to go ass over teakettle, and they proceeded to do so, hitting the ground with a thump.
Tara finally rolled to a stop, and felt her limbs. They all seemed to be there, and unbroken. Everything hurt though; everything felt broken. At least she hurt, therefore she hadn't been killed. She thought. Tara hadn't heard anything from Spike and scrambled to her feet, looking to see where he was.
He was sitting, a pale figure streaked with dirt, staring out at the other dirt-streaked figures, who sat staring back. Tara recognized the nearest one – Angel -- and, next nearest -- Angelus – and at least a hundred black soldiers. She recognized One of Hearts and … yes, she thought that lump way over there was the Cheshire Cat. And there was the White King Giles, and all those hundreds of white soldiers. Oh my, she thought. They must have all been dragged from the courthouse, down through the tunnel and back up through the ground, the hard way. Tara didn't imagine they were happy about that.
At least, they were all too stunned to continue fighting.
Tara cleared her throat. "Spike, you said you had Angel in mind."
"Yeah, well. Got a lot on my mind these days, don't I."
For long and long moments, everyone was still. The earth no longer rumbled, and the birds started singing again. Tara felt a breeze blowing against her skin, the warmth of the sun, and thought how peaceful it was. She wanted to lie down and just watch the clouds go by but she didn't think peace would last for long.
Angelus came out of his fuddled state first, and headed for Tara. Angel tackled him, and dragged him down.
The white army and the black army rose almost as one, and Tara thought it was beautiful, in a horrifying way. Like watching a black and white blossom unfold and realizing it was made of razor blades.
Spike came from behind her and pulled her close, swinging her away from the flashing blades with their cutting edges, pushing down on her head to save it from the swipe of a sword, bumping her sideways with his hip to avoid the stab of another. She thought she might have finally gone into shock.
She became conscious of her eye-sockets, as though she were watching from deep within her brain, and her eyes were binoculars. The flurry of sound seemed muffled, the shriek of steel scraping against steel, the clang of blades crashing together, the screams of wounded soldiers, all dwindled into a whisper.
The sun shone brightly and it seemed to grow brighter and brighter with each passing moment.
White soldiers were haloed in bursts of sunlight, bleached white as bone. Each lift of a shield, each thrust of a sword, each movement cascaded into sparks of brilliance. Black soldiers elongated, became silhouettes merged into shadow. They loomed large and malevolent, and slashed their dark swords into the brightness.
Tara thought it was just shock, causing the cartoon brightness and the sharp contrast.
Just shock causing the notion, that while white soldier fought black, the light and the dark itself were waging war. The dark was slowly eclipsing the light.
She watched a black soldier advancing on a white, and she blinked from the glare, and then she was watching two black soldiers turn on yet another white one. And then she was watching three black soldiers.
She was afraid, in a way she'd never been before.
This was magic and she recognized it. Not fair! She'd faced her fears. She'd shoved down the grief she felt, and now … had she and Spike been feeding the shadows by using the magic? Had they awakened something by tapping the power?
Was that magic inside of her … inside of Spike … even now turning them black inside? Was it only a matter of time before they turned, like the white soldiers?
Tara wanted to tear at herself, scream, try to vomit the magic out.
She forced the horror back, bottled it up, where it gibbered in her brain, and scrabbled to get out. She felt as though she had used up every resource she had, but somehow she had to find more – more courage, more strength, more intelligence.
The powerful emotions had shaken her out of her shocked state; she wished she could get it back.
Spike had kept her dancing, ducking, and dodging. Kept her safe while she dealt with her reactions. He'd danced around the shadows, kept them clear. He'd acquired a sword, and now he slashed one-handed at the black soldiers while his other arm held her tight. Tara saw that he'd worked his way into a ring of white soldiers; the two of them stood next to the King, surrounded by his bodyguard.
"What the Bloody Hell are you two doing? I've half a mind to put you down myself. I thought you were to save us from this nightmare -- not make it worse." King Giles eyes were wild, stark, in a mask of mud. He was shaking with fury.
"Can't help what you thought, Mate." Spike's mouth curled into a sneer. "Neither of us asked to be here. You want to try putting us down, go ahead." He stepped forward, and the two men locked gazes. The bodyguard was too hard pressed by the black soldiers to take notice of the possible violence inside their circle.
Tara wanted to scream at them. She had figured out that Spike was more aggressive when he was afraid. She expected King Giles was reacting the same way. She understood but she wasn't certain she could deal with it. She took Spike's free hand in both of hers, and tugged on it. "Spike, it is us. Somehow. This is all tied to us somehow."
Spike stared at her for a moment. "Run for it, then? Hope the shadows leave when we're gone?"
She shook her head. The shadows weren't going to leave the white army alone.
She caught a flicker of motion from the corner of her eye; the sunlight blotted out for a second, then returned with fierce brilliance.
King Giles threw up his hand to shield his eyes from the glare and pointed toward the sky. The darkness passed over again and Tara couldn't hold back a sound. A whimper of fear, she thought. She was whimpering now. Spike's hand squeezed hers, but he was looking up as well. She forced her gaze upward.
Her eyes watered, the darkness of the shadow made it hard for them to adjust when the light returned but after a moment she could see the shadow wasn't a shadow. It had depth, shape … feathers?
It was a bird. A huge bird. The fighting had slowed, the soldiers distracted by the circling behemoth.
"That one of ours or one of theirs?" Spike tugged Tara closer and she went willingly.
King Giles shook his head. "Neither, really. The Gryphon's no one's ally. Hates the Jabberwock though. He is here at our behest. You need to move swiftly or the black army will mobilize their archers." He tightened his mouth into a thin line then continued. "I'm trusting you one more time. Don't disappoint me."
"Wait a minute. What exactly does this behest entail?"
The Gryphon folded its wings tightly to its body, and it jetted downward. King Giles and his bodyguards jumped backward, leaving Spike and Tara to stand alone.
Spike's question was answered when the Gryphon swung to a halt above them, wings flapping in powerful beats, and it wrapped them in its enormous, horrible claws. Tara screamed as she was lifted from the ground, and she heard Spike call her name, before his voice was lost in the sound of the howling wind and the incredible whoosh of the Gryphon's wings.
TBC…