Part 11
Rating: PG-13 for occasional coarse language. ACKACK (Anguished Cliffhanger - Kind of - And Confused Kittens) Warning appliesThe car cruised slowly along the desert highway at just under the speed limit. It was a dusty old Mercury, as anonymous and unremarkable as a million others. In the front, both hands on the wheel, relaxed and cool, sat a young brunette dressed all in black. Black top, black jeans, black jacket, jet black sunglasses. Tattoos adorned her face and neck, and her eyebrows, nose and ears were festooned with steel and silver rings. In the back seat, close together and holding hands, were two women. One was slight, thin almost, and red-haired, the other was blonde and curvaceous. The redhead was almost asleep, her nodding head falling repeatedly against her companion’s shoulder. It had been a long, long day for all three, and they had spoken little during the drive east from Sunnydale.
“I hope we find that turn-off soon; I don’t want to be looking for this place in the dark,” the driver said at last, flicking irritably at her rear view mirror as the dipping westering sun began to sink low enough to dazzle and distract her.
“A-according to Giles’ directions, it should be just a little w-ways ahead,” the blonde replied.
The driver eased her foot off the gas and the car began to slow down. “I think you’re right, Tara,” she said, gesturing with one finger at a junction a short way ahead. A narrow dirt road snaked down from the low hills on their left to join the highway. “As usual.”
Tara smiled and cast her liquid blue eyes down at the red-haired girl, her beloved Willow, slumbering against her shoulder. She shifted slightly to give Willow’s nodding head a bit more support. In the front seat, Faith placed her foot on the brake and began to swing the steering wheel.
There was a jolt as the car left the blacktop highway, and it woke Willow. “Dawn, did you borrow my top and leave it in the oven again?” she mumbled.
Tara chuckled. She loved those surreal little Willow-waking-up moments. Well, they were Willow’s, so what was not to love? Perhaps the best part was when Willow was fully awake, with absolutely no recollection of what she had said, except for the total conviction that it had made perfect sense, and that Tara must have misheard her. “Wake up hon, we’re nearly there,” she whispered in Will’s ear.
“I wasn’t asleep, I was just resting my eyes,” Willow said groggily. Tara planted a kiss in Willow’s hair by way of a response. “Oh no,” the redhead groaned. “Do I have bed hair?”
“You haven’t been in bed; you can’t have bed hair,” Tara reassured her.
“Then do I have highway hair?”
“You’re fit to be seen, I am not affronted,” Tara grinned.
Willow was completely awake by now. “Oh thank you Ms. Tabitha,” she sighed. “Umm…did I drool?”
Tara looked carefully. “Just a…very discreet,” she gestured at one corner of her mouth. Willow dabbed cautiously at the corresponding area of her lips. Tara nodded and smiled once more. Willow sank back against Tara’s shoulder for a proper wide-awake hug.
The Mercury ploughed its way north, leaving a long curtain of fine yellow dust in its wake. Faith drove slowly and deliberately, picking her way through the potholes and ruts, gunning the heavy car through the thicker drifts of fine sand to lessen the chances of a bog. Willow and Tara gazed out of the windows as the country around them darkened with the gathering twilight, the lengthening shadows giving the land an alien appearance. The windows closed against the dust and the muffled drone of the car’s engine added to the unreality. Nothing moved out there; they might have been driving on the moon.
Eventually, when they reached the place Giles had described, they stopped, and the three of them got out. Faith opened the trunk and took out a brown paper bag with “The Magic Box” stamped on it. They walked a short way away from the car, where Faith set the bag down and made a fire from some twigs and dry brush. Tara sat herself before it, crossed her legs and closed her eyes.
“You ready, Willow?” Faith asked. The hacker nodded uncertainly.
“Drink this first,” the redhead instructed the Slayer, reaching into the bag and handing her a small bottle.
“What’s this, cactus juice? A little mescaline to chill me out?” Faith smiled and sipped, but then made an unpleasant face. “Gah! It’s horrible!”
“It’s a potion – to cleanse and focus your mind,” Willow explained.
“Thanks Red, but the only thing that’s gonna cleanse is my stomach contents. Whew, okay let’s do this.”
Faith sat herself on the opposite side of the fire from Tara and closed her eyes also. Willow shrugged, and again reached into the bag. She arranged a circle of sticks on the dry, dusty earth, then she reached into the bag once more and drew forth a gourd. She jumped lightly and gracefully into the circle she had made, leapt out again, and holding the gourd high in her outstretched hand, shook it. Then the redhead sat and pulled out a last item, a thin book with a worn leather jacket. She sat beside Tara and began to read aloud in a language Faith did not understand.
Tara sat silently through the ritual, keeping her eyes closed. She recognised short phrases of what Will was reading: greetings, a homage to the might of the First, a request for audience. Out of the dark desert came a sudden puff of breeze and the fire flared for a moment. Tara felt its dry heat upon her face. Then the blonde’s eyes flew open. Something was moving in the darkness behind her and Willow. Through the dancing flames, she saw Faith’s eyes open as well. Willow had finished her reading, and there was a momentary silence.
Faith half-rose, but then she nodded and sat down again. Willow and Tara dared to exchange a questioning look. They had been told to expect Faith to leave them and meet the First Slayer, alone.
What was happening?
There was a soft pattering of feet behind Willow, and the redhead felt the flesh between her shoulder blades crawl. She dimly remembered a dream of a desert, and something, or someone, dancing out there in the dust and the heat-devils, hunting her. Slowly, cautiously, she reached out and took Tara’s hand in hers. The blonde squeezed back ever so slightly.
Faith broke the silence. “Hi, you’re the First, right?” she addressed someone behind the two witches. “I’m glad I’m not the only Slayer that’s into body art. Cool.”
There was no answer, apart from the lonely sigh of the night desert wind. If the First Slayer had replied to Faith’s informal greeting, it was clear that only Faith could hear the words. The fine hairs on the back of Willow’s neck sprang erect and she gripped Tara’s hand more tightly.
“I want to know what’s going on,” Faith said conversationally, and then she paused as if listening to the answer. “Yes, I know all that, Chosen One, forces of evil, blah blah. I want to know why all these people are dying…people I know, people I’ve slept with, people Buffy has been with. You know what I mean, I want to know why this is happening.”
There was a pause as Faith listened, but the answer was apparently not to the Slayer’s liking. “Don’t give me that crap!” she snarled, eyes narrowed. “This is not natural. You can’t tell me that all these people died by coincidence…”
“What natural order? This isn’t natural, it’s insane! Well, someone must have done something to make this happen…I don’t care, I want to – no, dammit I fucking have to know! Fuck you, yes! YES! WHO IS GIVING THE ORDERS AROUND HERE?”
There was a moment of dead silence. Suddenly, Faith’s eyes sprang wide open and she was on her feet, reeling away from the fireside. She staggered across dust and rocks, and finally collapsed against a boulder, gasping. The Slayer held onto the great slab of rock for support. Tara and Willow rushed to her side. Faith was draped limply over the stone, like one stricken. “Now I really am going to puke,” Faith muttered.
“Why? What did she say?” Willow and Tara asked together.
“She said: ‘Alexander Harris’.”
(To be continued)
at: 2/10/03 4:02:36 pm
I know, I know! 
I got it!
Thank you! I see what you mean now. And you have been paying scrupulous attention to some of the detail in this story.
“humour and dread” are the twin targets that I’ve been aiming at ever since “Night Manoeuvres”. I glad you’re attuned to this. The dread I hope has been growing steadily over the last few weeks. That was one reason why I started with killing Parker off – a dickhead that nobody was going to miss. But add another death, then another, we have Tara’s vague disquiet taking shape. It’s a bit like a photograph, and the final image is just about to develop. And you’re right about Willow – she is torn between doing what’s right and the habits of a lifetime of having Xander as her closest friend. She doesn’t want to believe what is happening, but like the scientist that she is, she is willing to accept the evidence as it is presented to her.
A thought I will definitely cherish.