by Sassette » Mon May 06, 2002 8:32 am
*sigh* Okay ... this is not where I wanted to end this tonight, but I'm working tomorrow, so the stopping point kind of ... well, let's just leave it at "this is not where I wanted to end this tonight, but I'm working tomorrow."
ANSWERING DARKNESS 53b
"Oh, well," Willow had said, scuffing her foot self-consciously and looking down at her sneakers. "I kind of used to have the rubber ducky swim over and rescue them, so the sailors wouldn't be afraid anymore, and they'd all be friends."
Tara had laughed, delighted at the story, impulsively taking Willow's hand in hers and giving it a little squeeze, a warm tingle shooting up her arm at the contact of skin on skin. Willow had just looked up at her, smiling shyly, then joining in the laughter.
Tara spared a wistful smile for the memory as she worked. How could something seem like a lifetime ago and just yesterday at the same time?
She had no idea, really, but the memory was warm and sweet, and she clung to it, letting it shield her against the cold and almost palpable bitter tang in the air. Her body moved and her hands worked automatically, the details of the necessary arrangements for this ritual firm in her mind.
And all the while, the shadows watched her.
The circle itself, the sigils at each corner - these appeared as her mind stayed firmly fixed on the memory of that picnic and the nighttime that had followed. But the circle was - wrong. It kept pulling her attention from happy thoughts, the strange alterations to the normal circle casting slight, but glaring to her practiced eyes.
Still, a part of her found this strange ritual familiar, the very different arrangement appearing with practiced ease. And that, she realized, scared her.
Had she done this before? When had she ever practiced this? No, she would have remembered, wouldn't she? Or, perhaps, the person she had been - back when The Trickster had attempted to escape Hell the first time - had practiced these dark things?
It had to be something like that. She had studied Dark Magick to learn the dangers as a map to that rough terrain so she could avoid the pitfalls. Or, more accurately, to give her the knowledge that stepping foot there in the first place was a bad idea.
And she hadn't.
Even when her life had been at its worst, she had not succumbed to darkness. She had not walked that road when other the children of the town had laughed at her, nor when her brother played his cruel tricks. Not even when her father had beaten her, or after her mother had died.
She knew, far too well, the consequences of walking that road. And though she had thought at the time that her fate was fixed - that darkness was her inevitable destination - she was in no hurry to embrace it.
The only time - the single, solitary time - she had even edged close to that path had been when she had feared that the life she had made for herself in Sunnydale was at an end. And, oh, that had been a harsh lesson. She was so lucky - so very lucky - that no one had been hurt in the ensuing mess.
She had known better - she had known that it was wrong to cast a spell on anyone without their knowledge. She had been so alone, though. All she had felt was a bone-chilling fear, and a terrible desperation.
It had, she remembered, seemed like a good idea at the time.
That mistake still haunted her, deep inside. The consequences of casting a spell to keep a group of demon hunters from being able to see demons simply hadn't occurred to her. On top of the horrible guilt she felt, she felt rather foolish and stupid about the whole thing, too. How had she remotely imagined that casting that spell would be all right? Demon hunters who can't see demons?
It was her own shortsightedness - her selfishness - in that situation that even now made her stop and wonder what she had been thinking.
But she knew what she had been thinking. Even if everything had fallen apart - if her friends, and Willow, had learned of the spell and hated her for it - she still wouldn't have had to go back to her father's home. She had never wanted to go back. And wasn't a few more months - even a few more hours, really - with Willow worth it?
She looked up, and the circle was done. She let out a long breath and eyed her handiwork, musing silently that she was doing it again - only worse. She was jumping into Darkness to keep Willow at her side, trading the unequivocal safety of others for whatever time she and Willow would have left on the earth together.
And the worst part was, she didn't think the price was too high.
A plain block of black stone sat before her, serving as an altar, the necronomicon open before it. The spell she vaguely knew from her childhood lessons lay before her, written in a strange splotchy ink that she was uncomfortably suspicious was blood.
A jet black boline lay next to it on the right, a shallow dish on the far side, a black stick directly in front of her, and a black stone goblet to the left. She had no idea what any of the items were made of, and she was reasonably sure she didn't want to know. It was more than enough that she could feel a sense of malice radiating from each, and she didn't want anything added to her sense of unease to test her resolve.
Because as much as it scared her that she was so very willing to do this, it scared her more to think that she would not.
She knelt before the altar, taking a few deep steadying breaths, then silently reading the words in the book before her, rolling the words over in her mind, testing the pronunciation before she had to say them out loud. Still, despite her resolve, a few more tears slid down her cheeks.
"Second thoughts?" The Trickster's voice came out of the shadows, seeming to slide through the air.
"No," Tara said softly, shaking her head. "Accepted regrets."
"Ah," The Trickster said lightly. "I guess it's too much to expect that you perform the ritual >and< like it. I'll just have to accept that you won't like it, at all. Or perhaps you will. Perhaps you've just been waiting for an excuse to push past your fears and find the strength to grab hold of real power."
"Dark Magick is not real power," Tara said heatedly, her eyes sparking as she glared into the darkness. "It's a shortcut. It's weak."
"Weak? No, no," The Trickster said, his tone that of an adult explaining something to a very small child. "Darkness is where true power lies. It takes real strength to grab hold of the forces of the universe and bend them to your will, but I wouldn't expect you to understand that. It's too great a concept for your limited mind."
"Any petulant child can grab hold of something and refuse to let go. It takes patience and wisdom to know what isn't yours for the taking," Tara said simply, her eyes falling to the altar in front of her.
"For those with strength, everything is for the taking," The Trickster said easily, a cruel laugh evident in his voice. "And I'll be the one doing the taking. You know that, right? That this ritual won't stop me. You and Willow won't stop me."
"We will stop you," Tara said, raising her eyes again, her voice soft and sure.
"How?" The Trickster pressed.
"We'll teach our children the right way. We'll teach them of you, so they'll know - they'll be prepared and won't fall for your tricks. They'll know respect and love for the world around them. They won't fall under your spell."
"I'm a God, Tara," The Trickster said, genuine mirth in his voice. "And a patient one. When your children's children are in their graves, and their children's children are old, and I am a distant memory - a legend. A myth. When they no longer believe, and the truth is lost to time - I will be there, waiting for the unwary. That is when I will strike. That is when I will escape."
"Then I'll spend my whole life trying to find a way to stop you," Tara said simply, her gaze steady and even, and full of determination as a well of anger she didn't know existed opened up inside of her. "Willow and I will find a way."
"You're free to try," The Trickster said. "But you and Willow won't be doing anything together if she dies, now will you?"
Tara simply nodded, her eyes falling back to the necronomicon before her, feeling a burning rage light inside of her. Her heart thudded quickly in her chest, and her whole body felt shaky and trembled lightly. Was this true anger? No wonder she had avoided it. It wasn't pleasant at all.
Still, it boiled inside of her, churning and churning, as she silently read over the words in the necronomicon. She would stop him. She and Willow would find a way. There was nothing Tara wouldn't do to make sure he couldn't harm anyone she loved ever again.
But first, she had to make sure Willow was safe. Then she could worry about saving the world.
She started chanting, her voice low and resonating throughout the chamber. The words rolled off her tongue with ease, line after line falling away as it drifted into the air, seeming to take on a life of their own as they bounced around the room, zooming this way and that, echoing strangely in the dark.
The candles she had lit went out one by one with a pop and a hiss, the shadows lengthening and reclaiming the space they had been driven from by the candles light. Lines forming letters, forming words, glowed on the pages before her, and Tara was able to read on despite the darkness.
The page turned at her beckoning, her hand not needing to come in contact with the paper, and she read on and on. Another page, then another, and she continued, her voice starting to feel rough with use. But she kept on. The Trickster would not win this. He would know her hate. He would know her darkness.
The air hummed with her words, a dark energy roiling about the room, none of the sound that had issued forth fading. Each word echoed on and on, filling her mind and her body with a deep resonating rumbling even as it filled the chamber.
Her arms raised up and held, palms facing the ceiling, her fingers stretched out away from her body, and still she continued on. The resonating sound seemed to shake something lose inside of her, and she could feel - oh, Goddess, she could feel - the Shadow … her core of Darkness, break free and start to spread.
Another page, and yet another, and still more until she had no idea how many pages she had read, or how long she had been reading. She only knew that her voice felt hoarse, her throat raw, and her arms were trembling in the air as she struggled to keep them raised. Still, she could not give in - could not stop - because then what?
Willow would be killed.
Just the thought sparked the anger that had started to ebb as her fatigue rose. She would not succumb to something as pedestrian as being tired - no - human frailties would not stop her. She was more than that. She was better than that. She would save Willow. Destroy the Trickster.
Destroy him.
Destroy? No. Stop - stop him. She wasn't the destroying type. She didn't even like to squish spiders. In the grand scheme of things, didn't spiders and The Trickster serve a purpose?
A dark purpose. An evil purpose. He had to be destroyed.
No, Willow had to be saved. There was a difference between falling prey to darkness to save someone, and committing the same act to harm. She clung to that difference. She needed that difference.
But she hated him so much.
Yes, that was true. There were few things in this world she had ever truly hated, and all the others were abstract ideas. Prejudice. Injustice. Intolerance. Hatred itself. Never before had she hated an actual being - a creature - like she hated The Trickster.
That hate washed through her as she practically screamed the words of the spell, the resounding noise beating against her eardrums. She could feel the darkness inside of her spreading throughout her whole being, lying in wait just beneath her skin.
How long had she knelt there? She couldn't say - couldn't even begin to imagine.
It was ugly, and angry and dark … and it was waiting.
Waiting for something.
What was it waiting for?
Her hand came down, flat against the altar, then the boline was in her hand.
The noise stopped, completely, without warning. One heartbeat the room was filled with a din that made her whole body tremble, and then nothing. Nothing at all.
She looked up, sensing a presence. It was familiar, in a far off kind of way, and as the darkness seeped closer and closer to the surface, the familiarity of that presence faded.
Her eyes met another pair. A young woman with red hair. She recognized her, vaguely, but then her hand came down, the sharp edge of the blade splitting the skin of her left pinky finger.
Tara's world exploded in a violent crash and whirl, then faded to nothingness, and Willow could only close her eyes against the blinding flash of light.
When Glory stood there, Willow knew she was too late. She was too late - she was always too late.
"Hey, Tricky," Glory said, ignoring Willow and looking into the shadows. "There's no place like home."
"No!" The Trickster roared, the shadows of the room rushing forth and consuming Glory, covering her and taking her from Willow's sight.
Willow clambered to her feet, rushing forward. Tara was in there - Tara was in there somewhere, and she had to find her. She had promised, hadn't she? She had promised she would always find her.
Despite her determination, Willow was thrown back, landing heavily against the floor, knocking the wind from her and jolting her head against the stone with a nasty thud when the shadows seemed to shatter, flying outward to the edges of the room and leaving Glory standing.
"Oh, I'm so going to enjoy this," Glory said easily, her fingers reaching up and toying with the ends of her hair. "Come on, Tricky," she said with a pout. "Come on out and play. It's been so long since we've played."
"How?" the shadows growled, dodging about the edges of the room as Glory advanced, stalking dangerously towards the deepest darkest places in the room.
"How?" Glory growled. "How? You're the smart planner, and you're asking me how?"
Willow groaned, rolling onto her side and coughing lightly. "She figured it out," she said weakly.
"What?" Glory asked politely, turning to Willow. "Did you say something? Did I hear a comment from the mere mortal who's going to die very, very fast?"
"I said that you figured it out," Willow said, getting unsteadily to her feet and swaying helplessly, catching herself against the wall. She felt so dizzy. "When I returned Tara to herself, you felt him, didn't you? You felt his power - knew I was using it. You knew it was a trick, so you put part of yourself into Tara. That's how we defeated you - the Ben you wasn't at full strength."
Glory smiled, then clapped her hands, her eyes lighting up. "Maybe I won't kill you right away," she said happily. "You figured it all out, all by yourself, didn't you?" she asked easily, strolling over to Willow, who watched her warily.
"I had some thinking time, y'know - with all the Hell-Crawling badness," Willow said slowly, trying to back away from the advancing Hell God.
Glory frowned, then looked down, noticing her nakedness for the first time. "Oh, that won't do," she said, looking up at Willow with angry eyes. "You dare look upon me? You >dare
Quickly, Willow looked down, flinching back. She could feel the dark power rising up in her - she could feel it trying to take hold, but she grit her teeth and held on, her whole body shaking.
There had to be another way. There just had to.
She braced herself for a blow, but when it came, she was surprised. She looked up when she heard it land, seeing that Glory had turned away from her, tossing her hair and striding back towards the shadows that were slinking away after having knocked her.
"Oh, that wasn't nice, Tricky. And speaking of not nice - let me think about what I'm going to do with you," she said.
"You can't do anything to me. We're balanced, remember? Evenly matched?" The Trickster said easily, his words coming from everywhere at once and not betraying his location.
"I'll find a way … don't you worry your ugly little shadowy head about that," Glory said with a cruel smile. "Do you have any idea what it was like being trapped inside that goody-goody?" she demanded, turning this way and that, screaming into the room. "She barely had any darkness at all - I had to stretch it all out to get inside. And then - oh, then! She was all sweetness and light, and had her darkness all caged in. Do you know what it's like being in a cage made up of happy thoughts?"
"Silence!" the shadows themselves seemed to roar, and then they moved, streaks of darkness shooting across the room, then retreating, each strand striking Glory, again and again. They knocked her back to the center of the room, the heavy blows landing and clearly hurting the Hell God.
Willow tried to get to her - to Tara - but she shadows knocked her back again and again. Still, she gained her feet after each fall, moving another inch or two, only to be knocked down again. She felt each blow like a baseball bat to her body, but she pressed on. She couldn't let Tara down. Not like this. Not when she had come so far.
And, dammit, she was going to get Tara out of this, and then she was going to get down on her knees and beg Tara to marry her. Sure, Hell was a strange place to make that kind of a decision, but Willow nodded her head emphatically anyway. When she made a decision, she stuck to it.
Glory held up her hands, slowing the shadowy attacks momentarily, but then they redoubled, coming at her again and again. Bruises welled up on her fair skin, and blood spilled from her lip where it had been split.
Would it be a Jewish wedding or a Wiccan wedding? A mixture of both? Could you even get all mix-y with weddings like that, or was there some kind of No-Mix Wedding Rule she didn't know about? She'd have to look that up.
Still the blows rained down on Glory, knocking her to her knees.
"Did I say 'balanced'? Did I say 'evenly matched'?" The Trickster taunted. "Oops. Did I forget to mention that tied to Tara, you're as mortal you were tied to Ben?"
"No!"
The word echoed across the room, and the shadows stopped, turning towards Willow.
"You leave her alone," Willow said shakily, wondering what kind of twisted crazy place had her defending Glory. Oh, yeah. Hell.
She staggered to the center of the room, and Glory lifted her head, pinning Willow with her eyes.
"Oh, no, lover," Glory sneered. "You aren't getting her back."
"You >will< return her," the voice of The Trickster snarled, and Willow started with surprise. "Why don't you let Tara come out long enough to finish removing her pinky for me?"
Then again, she rationalized, it shouldn't be surprising. The Trickster needed Tara. The whole Glory thing wasn't a part of his plans at all.
"You leave Tara alone!" Willow demanded, making it to Glory's side, despite her total unease with the situation. Tara had to be in there - she had to be.
"You bore me," The Trickster snarled, and Willow tensed, looking around uneasily.
"Tara won't help you if I'm dead," Willow said quickly. Her eyes widened as she looked around the room, taking in the total unreality of the situation. Even for a girl who grew up on the Hellmouth, talking two Hell Gods down to a stand-off was a little strange.
"Oh, but I have no problem killing you," Glory said, turning towards Willow and rising unsteadily to her feet. "And Tricky can't kill me at all, because then Tara >really< can't help him," she added silkily. "You wanna' see if a magick addict beats a Hell God?"
Willow started backing away. "Okay, maybe not a stand-off," she muttered under her breath, wondering what she was going to do next. She backs of her legs bumped against the altar, and she stumbled, falling off to the side, Glory kneeling beside her.
"Oh, no, little witch-bitch," Glory said. "You're not going anywhere." She reached out, her hands tangling in Willow's hair, pulling her roughly towards her, then incongruously stroking the red locks. "Your little girlfriend had such a nummy mind. I wonder what yours is like. Not that I >have< to steal sanity anymore," she added with a shrug. "But a girl's got to have a hobby, don't you think?"
The darkness started to gather, and Glory looked up, grabbing the stick off the stick off the altar and throwing it into the Darkness.
"By this Blood, I bind thee," she snarled, and The Trickster howled as a well of light rose up and spread, gathering the shadows, then containing them in one corner of the room.
"Glory, leave her alone," The Trickster demanded. "This won't hold. It's her blood, but you cast it. It Won't Hold!"
"So?" Glory asked, looking up with a smile. "You'll do what? Kill me? And the blonde witch you need so badly for your stupid little spell?"
She pressed the pads of her fingers to Willow's skull, then started to press, and Willow could feel each bit of pressure distinctly. The Dark Magick in her blood surged upward, screaming for release, and her whole body began to shake.
Glory back off uncertainly, eyeing Willow warily as she fell heavily to the floor.
No, Willow thought hazily. She couldn't die now … she couldn't … not when Tara needed her. Tara needed her, and so she had to save Tara. The Darkness, though, filled her, threatening to choke off her lungs, to overwhelm her blood, and to stop her heart.
She could feel the oozing darkness slink over her eyes, and a trickle of it run out her nose.
"Stop it," Glory said with a pout. "I want a nummy treat."
Willow shook again and again, trying to contain the power rising up in her. Would it hurt? She felt a little numb right now, and her whole body was tight, but it wasn't painful. Would it be painful when her heart exploded in her chest, or her lungs filled up with darkness and she couldn't breathe?
But no - she couldn't die … she couldn't let this darkness take her - couldn't let it kill her, because she had to save Tara.
Save.
Tara.
She gritted her teeth as the pain started, and she screamed, the veins in her neck standing out in sharp relief. It was too much - it was all too much. Gasping helplessly, she fought back the pain, rolling onto her side, then making it laboriously to her feet.
Glory seemed to shift and shimmer before her eyes. First Glory, then Tara, then back. Willow's eyes widened at the eerie sight.
"Get back in there," Glory growled tightly, and then her form settled and she sat up, her upper body waving unsteadily as she tried to keep her balance. But her hand shot out, grabbing Willow's hair and pulling her over, her other hand finding its place on Willow's head. "I always get what I want, eventually," she snarled.
Willow's eyes shut tightly, her whole body tense as the darkness pounded away at her insides. She just prayed that Tara would make it out of this somehow.
"No!" Glory screamed, her head thrown back, her arms shaking as she tried to press her fingers into Willow's skull, even as those same arms tried to pull away.
"No!" Tara cried out. She had been in a dark and scary place, only vaguely aware of anything happening around her. But she had sensed Willow when Glory had drawn near - she had sensed Willow's presence and her fear, and she wanted to - needed to - soothe that fear.
"Tara?" Willow gasped out, her whole body shaking again and falling forward.
Tara caught her, holding on and looking around. She wasn't completely sure what had happened, but she had felt Glory. The Hell God's presence, somehow, was something she was able to sense. There was some kind of connection between them, but what?
"Willow, baby?" Tara said softly, tears spilling over. "Baby, we gotta' get out of here. I've got to get you home, so I can take care of you."
"Can't," Willow gasped, curling her legs up to her chest. She felt Tara's fingers run through her hair, and she almost smiled at just how good that felt despite the pain racing through the rest of her body. Tara always made her feel better, no matter how badly she was hurting.
"Sweetie, you have to … we have to get out, and you have to let me help you," Tara said quickly, pulling Willow up into her arms, even as her own body started shaking. She looked around, trying to figure out what was going on - what they were facing, exactly, but Willow's shaking body drew her attention. She could figure it out later - whatever it was, it would have to wait.
Idly, Willow wondered why she was being so resistant to the idea. Let Tara take care of her? Let Tara help her?
It seemed so very simple, but hadn't she been resisting just that for longer than she cared to think of right now?
She had always wanted to be the strong one - to be there for Tara. No, not always. Ever since … yes, it was Glory … ever since Glory, she had needed to do everything for Tara. She had needed to keep Tara safe, and to make sure she was loved and happy, no matter the cost.
But what had it cost her, really? Hadn't that attitude been exactly what had pushed Tara away in the first place?
"You'll take care of me?" Willow managed to say, her voice strained and hoarse.
"Always, baby," Tara whispered, as she held Willow tightly, as if the very strength of her arms could keep Willow with her.
With Tara's promise, Willow let herself believe, even if that belief would come too late. She could, she realized, let Tara love her. She could let Tara take care of her and help her, even when she wanted to be the strong one.
"I can let you," Willow said, her teeth chattering as her body shook. She had no idea how much longer she had, but suddenly so much seemed so clear, and she had to get these words out - had to say them - had to know that Tara had heard them. "I can let you love me. You have to let me love you, too. Ani l'dodi v'dodi li."
Edited by: Sassette at: 5/7/02 8:02:52 am
Edited by: Owl at: 5/5/02 6:17:24 pm
