Visitors - Chapter 2
Tara's hand grew cold as she placed it on the Magic Box's copper doorknob. To comfort herself, she concentrated on the slow, steady pounding of her heartbeat under her chest. The noise was captivating to her; it had been years since she had heard it or felt it under her palm. Thump, thump; thump, thump; thump, thump, she could have listened to it forever, but a new noise, the noise of a bell jingling overhead as she gently pushed open the door, cut in, and jerked her attention back to reality.
An overwhelmingly familiar scent washed over her as she stepped into the Magic Box, making her close her eyes and breathe in. She could never have forgotten the smell of sage, clove and ancient books all mixed together into the sweetest of fragrances. A warm feeling engulfed her for the first time since she had been home. Memories came flooding back until they stopped once again with the beautiful face that made Tara's heat disappear.
"Hi, welcome to the Magic Box. Is there anything I can-, "
Tara's eyes rose from the tiled floor towards the woman standing in front of her. She wore a simple white blouse and a pair of blue jeans, her straight blonde hair tied up in a tight ponytail. Her dark amber eyes were stretched so wide, that Tara thought that they would burst.
Silence squeezed the life out of the entire shop with its firm grip.
"Tara..." the woman murmured, her voice cracking with shock. "That's not really...GILES!!" The sudden outburst made her flinch as if she had been shaken from a deep sleep. The woman turned on her three-inch heels and called the name three more times over.
Giles, dressed in a brown suit, came rushing to her side from the back in a matter of seconds, adjusting his glasses along the way. "W-what's wrong, Anya?" And when she didn't respond, his eyes followed her gaze to where Tara stood. He cocked his head to the side in confusion, removing his glasses and squinting, not quite believing what he was seeing.
Tara shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her hand along her arm. She didn't understand why they kept staring and wished they would stop; she hated the spotlight. Suddenly, she felt dizzy and the room began to spin. She closed her eyes and fell to the shop's hard floor, clutching her head as if it were about to fall off.
Images that seemed to make no sense blocked her regular vision; and in all of them, the redhead starred. She would smile in some, perfect teeth glowing. In some of them
she wept, teardrops glistening like summer rain. But in most of them, she just looked at peace, eyes like liquid emerald burning into her own.
The last one was of the redhead kneeling on the floor, also clutching at her head, eyes squeezed shut in pain. She looked tortured, terrorized.
Tara assumed that was what she looked like at the moment and suddenly felt self-conscious. Her eyes whipped open, eyelashes brushing the top of her eye socket.
Before her, Anya and Giles were crouched, gazing at her in wonder, questions burning in their eyes.
"Willow," Tara whispered unwillingly. "Willow..."
Anya and Giles exchanged glances and then focused back on Tara. "Is it really you?" Giles asked, his voice low.
Tara sucked in air and blinked slowly, counting her heartbeats again. Thump, thump; thump, thump; thump, thump. "Why...am I here?" she wondered quietly.
Neither of them answered.
In minutes, Anya and Giles had helped Tara towards a large round table where they settled her on a plastic chair. When they were sure she was comfortable, they took places around the table too, where the questions began.
"Do you know where you are?" Giles asked kindly.
Tara looked from his aged face, to Anya's smooth face. She shook her head no.
"You're in Sunnydale, Tara," Anya told her, "at the Magic Box, my shop. That I run alone." She jerked her thumb in Giles's direction. "He just helps."
Tara nodded slowly in understanding. And then the room was quiet once again. She used the time to let her mind wander freely. What would she do when Anya and Giles grew tired of asking her questions? Would she wander the streets with no place to go? Worry suddenly struck her, but not from her potential homelessness. Her new issue was simple...what if she never found Willow?
"Tara?" Giles chimed in, obviously trying hard to get her attention. "Listen to me..."
"Okay."
"Where were you before you came here?"
The dark blonde wished she knew. She let her eyelids close to help herself concentrate. Where had she been? All she could remember was...
"It was peaceful," she explained, her eyes downward. "I-I don't know exactly where...but it was so peaceful..." She felt her eyes well up and swiped the tears away ignorantly with her hand.
Anya was speechless as a reply and Giles nodded thoughtfully, eyes glazed over with sympathy. He didn't remove her from his sight, as if he believed he could tell her a story through his gaze. "I think..." he said, carefully choosing out each word. "I think that you were in Heaven...And now, you're back here, on Earth. Somehow...you're alive again, Tara."
"What?!" Anya shouted in disbelief, jumping into a standing position. "How can that be? Somebody must have done a spell...like we did for Buffy... "She stopped abruptly. "Willow, it must have been Willow. "
Giles's forehead creased with stress. "She wouldn't," he countered. "It's been years. And Oz..."
"Oz?" Tara chimed in, the name sounding oddly familiar.
"Willow's boy..." Anya began to explain, and then thought better of it. "How else could this have happened, Giles? Willow is the only one with that kind of power and connection with Tara."
"But, it just makes no sense," Giles said stubbornly, removing his glasses to rub his eyes.
Tara looked from Giles to Anya and back again, confusion surfacing the most of all the emotions she was feeling. Willow and Oz had been together before she and Willow had, she remembered. And now Willow and Oz were back together? She wouldn't allow herself to imagine it. Not after seeing Willow's eyes blaze into hers like they once had. "I don't...understand," she stammered. "Please tell me w-what's going on."
Giles heavily, moving his chair closer to hers. "I wish I knew," he admitted. "But Tara..."
A jingling noise erupted from behind them, making all three heads whip around towards the door. Sunlight streamed in as it opened, revealing a group of five, chattering people. They all glowed, smiles stretched across their faces.
Tara smiled a small smile for the first ten seconds they were in the shop, but on the eleventh second, horror replaced it. She knew these people, almost better than she knew herself. And the looks that washed over their faces when Anya and Giles tried to hide her probably resembled her own face.
And the silence came again.
Tara took comfort in the only thing that made sense. Thump, thump; thump, thump; thump, thump; thump, thump.
She allowed herself to scan the new arrivals. Buffy stood a few paces ahead of the rest of them, blonde hair tied up into a loose ponytail. Behind her was Xander with his mouth agape. Dawn was beside him, her expression not much different than his.
But the two others, who still stood in the shop's doorway, were the ones that shattered Tara's heart. Willow's right hand was entwined with Oz's left one, while her left one covered her mouth. Her green eyes shone with sudden tears, and her eyebrows were turned down in the corners. She looked like she was in pain, and Tara hated herself, knowing that she was causing it. Willow tried to take a step forward, but failed, a strange noised erupting from deep within her throat. Oz pulled her into him, trying to comfort her, but she tore away, looking too far over the edge for any kind of comfort. Her right hand let her boyfriend's hand fall as she reached out towards Tara.
Tara stood at the far end of the table, motionless. She wished she were back to where she had once been, where everything was so clear, so peaceful; where everything fit in like a puzzle, where causing pain to the people you loved was seemingly impossible...
--
Angel cupped his hand over his mouth as he stifled a yawn. Sleep had been next to impossible yesterday morning, due to Harmony's endless chatter, and the next day, as the sun gained strength in the sky, he was beginning to feel the worst of it.
His eyes were casted downward at his book, though his mind took in no words. He wanted more than anything to sleep - but a snoring Harmony already ruled over the bed. He tried to concentrate on something, anything, but all his thoughts kept drifting back to one girl...
Angel could still remember the sting he had felt in his heart, like the prick of a pin, as Buffy had finally admitted to her relationship with Spike. He had wished every day since, that Buffy had loved anybody else...Spike, even with a soul, was a monster, a destroying monster, and he just couldn't understand why Buffy had trusted him with her heart.
He dropped his book and ran his hands over his tired face. He wanted to see her, needed to see her, more than he needed the darkness while the sun was up. Sitting against the cold, dirty floor, he tried brainstorming ideas on how to get to her sooner than during the night, and could only come up with one.
Run like hell.
Angel removed his long, black leather coat from the couch near the door and draped it over his entire body, shielding even his head from the outside world. He took a deep breath, opened the door and shot out of the mansion faster than a rabbit being chased by a fox.
He could hear the sizzles before he could feel them. He knew how extremely dangerous being out like this was, but he just needed to get to Buffy. The pain was excruciatingly harsh, but he saw no other solution, and patience had never been his thing. When he was with Buffy, everything would be okay...
Angel felt the not so familiar sensation of joy as he turned onto Buffy's street. He pushed himself harder and harder, agony terrorizing his fingertips. He raced up the pebble path to her doorstep, where he knocked furiously on the door. He suppressed a shout, growing desperate.
"Buffy!" he called into the melody of hissing burns, banging and shouts. When nobody answered after several minutes, he burst through the door and fell to his hands and knees. Angel could feel that all his strength was gone and weakness was now gnawing on his insides. He slumped harder against the ground, closing his eyes. If Buffy were here, she would find him soon, and he'd be happy, very happy. And if she wasn't, he would wait until she came. He had already waited centuries for her to grace his life with her presence; he could definitely wait a couple more hours.
--
Harmony gripped the roots of her endless blonde hair with her fingers, pulling at them angrily. There was nothing worse in the world than waking up to an empty house. It was almost like travelling for miles, looking for your prince charming and finding a short, ugly troll.
Light still sifted through a hole in the dark curtain and worry clouded all her other thoughts. How had Angel left? Had she slept through the entire day and night?
Impossible, her mind growled. She pushed herself off of the bed and hurried towards the window. Carefully, she pulled back the curtain and gazed outside. At first, all her eyes took in was the glare from the sun, the outline of the trees and gravestones against the sky and the distant whizzing of cars on the road a quarter of a kilometre away. Then, as her vision adjusted, she gasped, not believing what she was seeing.
Leaning against a small headstone, was a man that made her hands shake. Scars, newer cuts and bruises decorated his broad face, which was lit up with a small smile. His chestnut-coloured hair was spiked as always, while his clothes reflected the sunlight. Harmony had never seen Angel in the light before, and never expected she would, but there he stood, two inches from perfection, watching her.
"Angel?" she called to him. "Angel? What are you doing out there? Are you crazy?"
His smile grew, and she heard him chuckle. Angel began taking steps towards the mansion, his skin glowing.
"How are you doing this?" Harmony asked in disbelief.
Again, she got a smile and a chuckle as an answer. He kept on walking, getting closer and closer, until he was in front of her on the other side of the window. "Harmony," Angel whispered.
It was at that moment, when she looked into his eyes that were blazing into hers, that she realized it wasn't Angel. His eyes weren't right; they were too dark, too evil. And she couldn't believe that Angel would look at her with love in his eyes they way he did now, not when Buffy still ruled his memory.
Harmony backed away, hands up as if she were surrendering. "Hey, you're not Angel!" she shot at him, stating the obvious.
"No shit," the Angel-impersonator hissed. He even sounded like him.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
"I have a proposition," he explained, now smirking. He slowly made his way over to the door, letting himself inside.
"What is it?" Harmony was still backing away, and she tripped back onto the bed. "'Cause I totally don't do evil anymore."
Fake-Angel's eyes grew sympathetic. He sat down beside Harmony and ran his hand down her hair. "Harm, baby," he whispered into her ear. "We could be together forever. If you get rid of him, Harm, I can promise you an eternity of happiness, just you and I."
Harmony's eyes fluttered closed as she shivered under his touch. For a moment, she imagined this creature really was Angel, murmuring words of love to her. For that moment, she was ready to sacrifice a life to be with him, even if it wasn't real. This thing was too identical to Angel not to believe, but her better judgement caught up too fast, and she pulled away. "No thank you," Harmony replied, her voice full of sass.
Angel-wannabe shot to his feet. Anger forced lines into his face and his soft gaze suddenly turned to a glare. "You'll regret it," he snarled, pointing a finger at her. "Forever. For the rest of your life, you'll regret it." And without another breath, word or sound, he was gone.
Harmony didn't know what to do. She stared down at the blackened floor, not in the mood to blink. She sensed confusion from the useless veins in her head down to the edge of her red painted toenails. She suddenly felt vulnerable, like an ant crawling
under the shadow of a boot. Harmony wished that she had somebody to turn to, somebody to feel safe next to, somebody that she could fall asleep against...
She couldn't wait any longer.
Harmony hauled her enormous suitcase onto the bed, and began to tear through it. She launched blouses, jeans, skirts, t-shirts and tank tops across the mansion floor, until she reached the bottom, and her treasure.
A hot pink cell phone looked up at her from her palm, offering her her own reflection. She closed her eyes, tapping into her memory. The numbers flashed in her mind like a showy Las Vegas sign, and Harmony silently thanked God for her photographic memory.
She dialled the numbers quickly with her thumbs, and then pressed the phone to her ear. She leaned against the wall, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear; it had become a habit.
"Hi, this is the Magic Box, how can we help you?" the voice on the other end said automatically. It was vaguely familiar. Perfect, Harmony thought.
"Hey, can I talk to Willow?"
There. I hope you enjoyed Chapter 2. Chapter 3 will be up shortly. Please review if you already haven't! )