Chapter Thirty One
In the End
(You think this changes things, Tara? This changes nothing. In the end, I always win. Always.)
Tara slumped to the misty ground, her head pounding in agony, Caleb's voice echoing in her mind. She lifted a hand to her ear and withdrew it; there was a shiny drop of blood, somehow dangerous and menacing in this shadow world of little colour. Maia knelt beside her, and put her warm arms around her, and cradled her. Willow was far away, consorting with the gods.
(I am the First, Tara. You cannot stop me.)
Another ice pick of pain, lancing as if through her eye, nearly lobotomizing her. She was near catatonic with agony. She could barely hear Maia whisper, "I have your heart, Tara."
(And your girlfriend? Even with all these gifts she cannot stop me.)
As if from a great distance Tara could see Willow step into the embrace of the dark goddess. The roaring in her ears was constant; she had no idea which goddess it was or what gift the goddess would bestow. Part of her knew she should be outraged at the idea of someone else kissing Willow, but she was shot through with another bolt of mental lightning.
(So come to me, little girl. I have something to show you.)
Tara moaned in agony, and Maia was stroking her hair, and then placed her godly hand directly over Tara's heart in shocking similitude of the day they vanquished Caleb together. "You are protected, Tara," the goddess whispered, as another drop of blood fell from Tara's ear. "I have your heart. He cannot touch it."
Tara looked at Willow. She had surrendered her heart long ago. Caleb could not touch it.
(Come to me.)
And the pain drew her from the ether, the pain a tether to her beleaguered body, and for a moment she opened her eyes. She was lying next to Willow on the hospital bed, their lips were still touching in the kiss that had sent them into the heavens. But she remained only a moment, before there was another tug, and Caleb screamed in victory.
Tara tumbled down the great hole of faint, scrabbling at the slippery walls for purchase, for she remembered what awaited her at the bottom, what awaited her every time she fainted into Caleb's arms. There would be scalpels. There would be blood. And only when every ounce of life drained from her body would she wake.
How many times was he going to kill her? Did he consider this practice?
Gods, please, no!
And she found herself standing next to the preacher in a dark and musty room with a dirt floor. Tara tried to move but discovered she was bound with invisible cords; she could only stand, and watch. Caleb made sweeping motions with one of his hands, and Tara was sharply reminded of the nightmare he had given her of the haunted house, how he had controlled her with one sweep of a disinterested hand. The dirt flew away, and soon he laid bare a seal inscribed with a goat's head and a pentagram.
She also noticed that none of the flying dirt touched his pristine black clothes, nor the iridescent spot of white at his throat. As always he remained clean and menacing.
"The Seal of Danzalthar," Caleb said amiably. "This one is in Sunnydale, in the basement of the high school. Through it I was going to send my army and take over the world. I was thwarted, however, by the witch, and the Slayer, and the seal was destroyed."
Tara smiled to hear it, until he noticed her little smirk. Then he took one of her fingers and casually snapped it.
Tara screamed.
"Now this one is gone," he continued, pacing around the room. Tara panted in pain, her finger throbbing. "But there is another."
Tara's eyes widened.
Caleb snapped his fingers, the world shook, and then rematerialized. She was in an unknown space, a courtyard that opened up to the stars. It was night, wherever she was, and she craned her head as much as she could in her bindings. The walls around her were ruined, armies of moss and lichen had overcome them, reducing them to the rubble that drove tourists into picture-taking frenzy. The air was clean and crisp and sharply scented of pine needles. Directly in front of them was a great stone slab.
Caleb prowled around the edges of the slab. "It is under here, Tara, the second and last Seal. I didn't want to use it, before. It's much harder to open."
(Faith.)
With another generous snap of his fingers, Tara saw a vision of the first seal, the one in the school basement. She saw a pale man with bleached hair tied to a strange device that hung him over the seal, as runes knifed into his bare skin slowly dripped blood on to the shining surface of the goat's head seal.
And the seal opened, and out came the most hideous vampire she had ever seen. And she knew that hordes just like him waited just beyond the seal, waited for their moment of triumph. They didn't crave only blood, but they fed also on the misery of their victims, feasting on their screams, their struggles, and their despair.
"All the first seal needed was a token, a bare sacrifice of blood, drawn with p'achi, the knife," Caleb drawled. With a wave of his hand the vision ended, and Tara once again saw only the bare expanse of the massive stone slab, and a ring of torches blurred in the edges of the clearing. Once again, craning her head, Tara looked around. Holding the torches was...
No.
(Even after all these gifts, it may not be enough...)
A vast army of undead in every form: vampire, demon, zombie, werewolf, and worse. They poured from the woods surrounding the ruins, hundreds, thousands of them, heeding the call of their Master.
And Caleb stood upon the stone slab, and his eyes were the deadest black, and power crackled from his fists like lightning. With a single forceful blow, his fist struck the stone, and it detonated, showering her in bits of granite, abrading her skin.
There was another Seal beneath him, and he pulled aside the rubble so he could stand upon it. He hunkered down on his knees, and stroked the still metal with one finger. "This other," said he, "needs far more than a token, for it is thirsty." He gestured, and a cringing vampire with haunted eyes was relentlessly pulled from the slavering crowd by the force of his will alone. "Lassa-ma!" the vampire was screaming, in a language Tara couldn't understand. "Lassa-ma in pace!" Tara could feel the horde's hungry gaze on her, and knew it was only by Caleb's command that they didn't tear her limb from limb.
Caleb caught the vampire in his hands and stood him upon the seal. Then Caleb drew an ancient blade from a sheath at his back, and the metal gleamed wickedly with thirst. It hungered for her, as it had hungered for others.
In the flickering torchlight, Tara could barely see the runes etched on the blade. Caleb nearly shivered as he handled the knife, and he drew his tongue along the flat of it, as if tasting the blood from a thousand sacrificial victims. Raising his head, his eyes shining black, he intoned, "The blood which I spill I consecrate to the oldest evil."
And he thrust it into the belly of the vampire, and ripped it sideways, and a great splash of blood assaulted the seal, and ropy entrails steamed in the cool air as the vampire's body crumpled to the ground, bursting into ash.
Yet the Seal remained shut.
"It needs a human, now," Caleb said conversationally, once again licking the blood from the blade, then he looked at her and his meaning was clear. "And every drop of that human's blood."
Tara's breath caught in her throat.
"I wouldn't worry none," he continued, coming to her, resheathing the blade. "I don't want your blood anymore. The Seal craves the blood of another."
Tara looked into his murderous eyes and thought of her father.
"Now, why on earth would I be sharing all this with you?" he said. "Especially with the witch on your side? I'm missing a few ingredients, and you're going to help me."
Tara spat on him.
He broke another finger.
Tara screamed again, and the night swallowed her cry without pity, and her cry sent the slavering horde into a frenzy of catcalls and screams, and they surged towards her, but with incredible power Caleb held them back.
"I need the knife, Tara," Caleb continued, and he drew himself around her, and fingered her hair, and breathed on her neck, and he trembled with suppressed desire.
(Heed your father, now, Tara.)
She was frozen, bound, and helpless.
"Find the knife for me, will you?" he asked, and he licked her throat, and Tara blinked back tears.
He retreated and snapped his fingers, and the horde was unleashed, and Tara saw her death in their fangs. "Willow will stop you," Tara said quietly, and she welcomed them, the undead ones, the vampires, the demons, the zombies, and the werewolves.
(wake wake wake)
And they tore her clothes from her, and ripped her flesh with their fangs, and pulled hanks of her hair, and crushed her ribs, and disemboweled her.
(I have your heart, Tara. You are protected.)
And she fell on the Seal, and there she lay crumpled. As they reaved her, feasting on her flesh, drinking of her blood, she saw the shining metal disintegrate beneath her, the Seal vanishing as if it never existed at all.
And Tara harboured the secret deep in her heart.
(He cannot touch it.)
"No one can stop me, Tara," Caleb mocked, and her eyes grew glassy, and her breathing stilled. "You'll see. In the end, Tara, nothing you can do will matter. One way or another, you will die."
Tara shuddered, and thought of crimson hair and chapped lips.
"And I will rule the world."
With her dying breath, Tara could only stare at the dust and ash beneath her and listen to Caleb laugh. "My gift to you, little girl, you will find soon," he drawled, and his voice came from far away, as the world dwindled, as her mother called her home.
(In the end, Tara, you will see that I am right.)
(In the end.)
And Tara woke.
Opening her eyes, Tara saw only Willow, who was actually sitting in a chair next to her own hospital bed where Tara still lay. Willow was holding her hand, and when she saw that Tara's eyes were open, she let out a low cry and stood sharply, the chair clattering to the ground behind her, as if to embrace Tara, yet she held herself back at the last moment for fear of hurting her.
And all Tara could see was the dust of the vanquished Seal underneath her, she felt far ghostly pain in her fingers, and she heard Caleb's laughter echoing in her ears. She scrambled out of the sheets as if the horde was still ravening her and threw herself into Willow's arms. Tara latched on to her love, and embraced her so tightly her demon-scored chest screeched in protest, yet she still hung on, breathing deeply of Willow's scent (oh, the sandalwood and the roses), trembling in fright, remembered agony convulsing her.
And Willow held her, and whispered nothings into her ear, and stroked her back, and rocked her gently to and fro. But it just wasn't enough, no not enough to take the sharp taste of bile from her mouth, to lance the boil of terror that grew on her, so in mute desperation Tara sought Willow's lips.
Only there, in kissing, in being kissed, did her abject terror subside, and after long moments Willow pulled Tara on to the low brown couch, her arm protectively about her, kissing her softly again and again. Only then did Tara see her own fear mirrored in Willow's eyes. "Tara, what happened?" Willow asked softly.
Tara wanted to form the words, she wanted to share the burden, but they were thick and stuck in her throat. So Willow waited, and they shared Willow's breakfast, and the food was ash in Tara's mouth. Tara took her spare set of scrubs from the closet and retreated to the bathroom to shower alone, blanketing herself in pillows of steam, the water so hot it stung her body and left her gasping.
And the pain-fiend continued to devour her.
When she returned to the room, she found Willow in earnest discussion with Ethan. Her two closest confidantes looked at her, and she was surrounded in their love.
Willow spoke first. "You fainted again, Tara. And you were bleeding from your ear. Dr. Daniels wants to do some tests. Please, Tara, will you do the tests?"
Ethan was looking at her strangely,
(I know you can't love me the way I love you but it's tearing me apart to see you like this!)
maybe wondering if Tara would give in to her girlfriend when she wouldn't give in to him only the night before. Tara was terrified, but Willow was looking at her in such earnest worry, that finally Tara nodded.
Ethan was looking back and forth between the two of them, yet whatever discomfort he felt in their presence was hidden as he said, "Excellent, Tara. Monday morning, all right? All the technicians are off for the weekend. Unless you think it is an emergency?"
And Tara remembered just why she cared so deeply for Ethan. It was only last night that he had asked her, and she begged for him to wait. Tara well knew that the technicians would return if it was an emergency, but Ethan had just given her two days respite. He knew her that well, in some ways he knew her far better than Willow did, and in that moment she could have kissed him.
"It's no emergency," Tara said softly, looking carefully at Ethan, silently thanking him. He imperceptibly nodded, looked once more at Willow, his face showing a little amazement that the recently-comatose girl was standing on her own two feet, and then he left once more.
Willow opened her arms, and Tara walked into them, and felt herself get tucked away in the corners of Willow's heart. "What do you need, baby?" she whispered into Tara's ear.
Tara's head continued to thud, and white sheets of light-headedness made the world seem surreal.
"Sleep, Willow. I need to sleep."
Willow steered Tara to her slim hospital bed and sat her down. With a light push, she had Tara lay down fully on the narrow bed, tucking her legs beneath the sheets, drawing the blanket over her. "You aren't joining me?" Tara asked, her voice thick with slurry exhaustion.
Willow's emerald eyes twinkled, and she pushed the little table aside so she could lay down next to Tara. Tara's thick eyes were already closed, so she felt Willow pulling a little at her body, spooning into her like they had last night. Once again Willow kissed the nape of her neck, and then she laid her hand on Tara's hip. "I have been gifted, Tara Maclay," Willow whispered. "And I will save you."
And before sleep overcame her, Tara remembered
we heal by sacrifice, Tara. And if you're going to take it, you're going to give it away...
Willow, I am Panacea, and to you I give the gift of true healing...
Even after all this, it may not be enough...
In the end, I always win, Tara. Always...
It needs a human, now, and every drop of that human's blood...
I have been gifted, Tara Maclay. And I will save you...
In the end.
Tara slept.
