No, you're not imagining things. Yes, this is really another update.
**tommo: Hocus Pocus? Now >there's< a movie I haven't thought of in a very long time. But yeah - the book's not nice *shrug* And that eye thing was pretty nasty, too.
**blameburner: I believe you instructed me to stop messing with Willow. I, however, have never taken instruction very well *G* Willow has some things to do before everything works out for her. But they will!
**Yuri: This doesn't mean I'm going to read >any< smut. And I'm >definitely< not reading any smut written by anyone I've ever met. But Ruth's smut is in the middle of such a fun story. I still stand by my self-imposed PG-13 reading guideline, except for a few special cases, so don't get used to it. Oh, and try not to traumatize the kittens with your extra knowledge of what's going to happen, okay?
**Willowfan: Yes, I know - painful and angsty. What can I say? When a character has been to hell and back, it makes the happy bits that much sweeter. At least, I like to think so. But my next W/T story (which I will write ... some day) will be all Willow/Tara happy together all the time. Of course, it will also be much shorter.
Title: Answering Darkness Part 46 – Walking Away
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to
pink_overalls@yahoo.com Summary: Willow runs off. Bad Willow.
Spoiler Warning: Up to and including "Tabula Rasa" in Season 6.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm just borrowing them.
Rating: PG-13
Notes: For the purpose of this story, all events of Tabula Rasa took place exactly as shown in the series; however, no subsequent episodes will affect this piece. We're splitting from canon here, because I impatiently began writing this before 'Smashed' and 'Wrecked' aired.
Answering Darkness - Part 45a
Walking Away
By Sassette
When Tara closed the door, Willow didn’t have the luxury of crying, not really. Even so, silent tears tracked down her face as she climbed out of bed. Mechanically, she opened the dresser, pulling forth a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Stiffly, she dressed.
By accident, she caught her reflection in the mirror, and she paused, staring for a moment at the reflection there. Was that really her? Who was this girl, she wondered, with the gaunt features, the dark circles under her eyes, and the clear mark of tears running down her face?
She wasn’t sure she knew anymore.
It was, without a doubt, Willow Rosenberg, but who was that? A student? A friend? A lover?
No, none of those. Not anymore. She was throwing that all away – no, she was jamming it into a cannon and lighting the fuse, sending it off as far as it would fly with a great boom and flash.
Willow Rosenberg never did anything halfway.
As Willow grabbed her bag from underneath the bed, stowing the box of baking soda and her laptop carefully, Tara’s last words to her, ‘Ani ohevet otach’ were still ringing in her ears. They played through her mind in a never-ending loop, mocking her with their sweetness. She had longed to say ‘Ani l'dodi v'dodi li’ instead, the words expressing what she wished she had.
But it would have been wrong, and untrue. She was Tara’s, no doubt about it, but Tara wasn’t hers. They had made up, talked through some things, but there was a part of her that was still amazed that someone like Tara could love a geeky awkward girl like her. More importantly, that someone like Tara could love someone who had hurt her as badly as Willow had.
Really, Tara belonged to all the Scoobies now. She didn’t have the right to ask Tara to stay with her through the worst – through the darkness and death that would follow. She didn’t want Tara to, not for her own sake, but for Tara’s. If she didn’t say it, then Tara was free – free to find someone else after she was gone.
But if this was the least selfish thing she had ever done, why did it feel so wrong?
She had her bag of clothes and her laptop. What else did she need? Willow looked around the room, surveying it. With a little frown, she went to a chest at the foot of the bed, throwing it open and grabbing a stake, a vial of holy water, and a cross. It was just past sunset now, and she needed to be prepared.
With one last look in the chest, she almost closed it, then paused, her hand coming to rest on a little drawer. She slid it open, looking inside, her heart heavy.
She took a deep breath then withdrew the small necklace there, then slipped it over her neck. She had almost forgotten – a part of her had wanted to forget – that Tara could always find her. She slipped the necklace under her shirt, letting the cool metal warm against her skin. She had made the charm long ago – a defense against magick – and it would thwart any attempt Tara made to find her with spells.
No, Willow Rosenberg never did anything halfway.
The window opened easily, and Willow glanced down. It would be easy to climb out, and yet the hardest thing she had ever done.
She knew leaving would hurt Tara, and she regretted the necessity for it. Willow shook her head, easing one leg out the window carefully. That was certainly an understatement. The necessity of it ripped her open, leaving her emotionally bloodied and raw, but that didn’t change the facts.
She swung the other leg over, her bag on her back, and carefully climbed down the trellis, her feet hitting the earth with an all-too-real thud.
“Going somewhere?” a familiar voice asked in the darkness, a light flaring up briefly, outlining sharp features, then settling into the dull orange glow of a cigarette.
“Spike,” she practically growled, pinning him with her gaze.
“I’d wager a couple of blonde’s wouldn’t be too happy with your late night stroll. Am I right?” Spike asked, stepping from the shadows.
“Don’t try to stop me, Spike,” Willow warned, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
“I won’t have to,” Spike said, taking a few steps towards the house. “Buffy and Tara will do it for me.”
He only got a few steps before he was stopped, a cross thrust into his face. He recoiled with a snarl, his game face appearing, and he glared at the redhead.
“You’re not going anywhere Spike, and don’t you dare yell,” she said, making him pause.
“And what will you do if I yell? Burn me with a cross? You’re not the torturing kind,” he scoffed, but his tone wasn’t as sure as he would have liked.
“Don’t push me, Spike,” Willow warned again. “If I stay, The Trickster wins, so I have to go.”
“Fine, then. Bloody well go, but take your friends with you,” Spike shot back, his features resolving into the more familiar human form. “Don’t go haring off by yourself like some kind of martyr. This is just stupid.”
“No, it’s not,” Willow ground out. “They’re in danger if they’re near me. The Trickster won’t give up that easily.”
“Bugger this,” Spike said, trying to rush around her, only to be brought up short by the cross again. “This is crazy,” he insisted.
“I can’t leave you here,” Willow said, her voice almost sad. “They … they can’t know. They can’t know I’m gone,” she went on.
Spike backed up several paces, not liking Willow’s tone one bit. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was completely off her beam. “Now, let’s not be hasty here, all right? Defenseless vampire, shouldn’t be dusted.”
“I’m not going to dust you, Spike,” Willow said exasperatedly. “You’re coming with me.”
“Oh, no,” Spike said, shaking his head. “Buffy’ll stake me for sure if I help you get away, and I don’t need that kind of grief.”
“Spike, you have two choices. You come with me, or I incinerate you on the spot,” Willow said, her head dropping as she stared unblinkingly at the vampire, her eyes darkening. “I’d probably live longer if I did.”
“Whoa, now,” Spike said, raising his hands. “Stop it with the dark magick eyes, all right? I’ll go. Just … don’t cast anything.”
Willow’s expression cleared, her eyes turning back to green, then gestured with the cross for Spike to start walking. Spike nodded, bracing himself, then turning his back on Willow, heading to the street.
“Which way?” he asked, risking a glance behind him.
“Right,” Willow instructed, and Spike complied. Turning to the right and walking, trying to act as casually as he could considering there was a woman behind him with a cross, dark mojo he didn’t want to mess with, and presumably several other things that were at least painful for vampires if not downright letha.
“So why, exactly, are you taking off all by your lonesome?” he asked, lighting a cigarette and walking.
“I already told you,” Willow said wearily. This certainly wasn’t going according to plan. And Spike really wouldn’t like where they were going. “I’m dangerous. At some point I might not be able to control my actions, and I don’t want any of them hurt.”
“That the only reason?” he pressed, knowing Willow well enough to know that she rarely, if ever, did anything for just one reason. Once she decided on a course of action, she rationalized it to herself, coming up with a million different justifications, even if she never shared them with anyone.
“I’m not going to let them watch me die,” Willow whispered, only Spike’s supernatural hearing allowing him to make out the words.
“I still think you’re making a mistake,” Spike said, shaking his head. “Where are we going, anyway?” he finally asked.
“Train station,” Willow said shortly. With each step, she told herself over and over that this was for the best. That she was doing this for Tara. That she it was dangerous for everyone if she stayed. But still, she felt like she was walking away from the very best part of herself.
“And where to from there?” Spike asked again, wondering if he would make it if he made a run for a pay phone.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Willow said simply, knowing that Spike would be able to tell she was lying, but figuring it was the safest answer. All it told him was that she had a final destination in mind.
Spike sighed. Red really was a terrible liar. She got a little hitch in her voice, almost a hiccup, whenever she said anything that was blatantly untrue. “I still think you’re being a stupid git,” Spike muttered disgustedly. “This is going to hurt a lot of people.”
“Like you care?” Willow shot back. “Well, yeah, maybe about Buffy. Maybe even Dawn – but the rest? You hate us, remember? You were all ‘Grr, I’m gonna’ kill you’, and now you’re all ‘Gee, Willow, that’s not nice’?”
“Oh, don’t be dredging up the past,” Spike said exasperatedly. “You’re not still sore about that night in your dorm room, are you?”
“What?” Willow blurted out incredulously. “Gee, why in a million years would I be mad about that? You only tried to kill me. And then there was that time you kidnapped me and tried to make me cast a spell, and it was scary, and you were drunk and weepy and that was just disturbing.”
Spike sighed, a wave of nostalgia washing over him. “Those were good times, weren’t they?” he asked softly. “We all knew who the good guys were and who the bad guys were. There was none of this ‘causing pain to save pain’ nonsense, and no shadowy villain who manipulates behind the scenes.”
“You’re nuts,” Willow said with a frown, finally stepping up until she and Spike were walking side by side, sure that he wouldn’t try to run. No, wait, this was Spike. “And don’t forget the incineration thing. You can’t run fast enough, and don’t think I won’t do it,” she said sternly, glaring at him.
Spike bit back a snort of amusement, disguising it in a cough. There was something so endearingly earnest about Red, even for an evil soulless vampire like himself. Even threatening him with immolation, she couldn’t glare worth a damn – not unless someone she loved was in danger, or had been hurt. She had certainly developed a glare out of nowhere to level at Glory during that whole thing, but in normal situations – if he could call being force marched down the streets of Sunnydale by a human half his size normal – she just couldn’t muster any heat behind it.
“I won’t run,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’ll go where you go, make sure you get wherever in one piece. But I still think you shouldn’t do this.”
Willow said nothing, and they lapsed into silence. Spike’s mind turned round and round as he tried to come up with something – anything – he could say that would make her stay.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Spike said after a moment, stopping short and looking at Willow. “Weren’t you and your bird going to do some spell that would get rid of the dark stuff? For good?” he questioned, looking at Willow curiously.
“It didn’t work,” Willow said simply, gesturing with her cross for Spike to keep walking.
“Didn’t work?” Spike asked aloud, confusion coloring his tone as he started walking again. “You do love her, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” Willow snapped. Spike internally corrected himself. Apparently, Willow could glare.
“I guess I just don’t understand,” he said with a little shake of his head. “You love her, God knows she loves you – I don’t understand why you’d walk away from that.”
“Of course you don’t understand,” Willow said bitterly. “Self-sacrifice isn’t in your nature.”
“Not – not in my nature?” Spike demanded, his own glare stealing over his features. “I would have given anything – anything – to have kept Buffy and Dawn safe. I still would. Don’t you dare lecture me about self-sacrifice.”
“Then how can you not understand?” Willow shot back. “Tara isn’t >safe< with me.”
“That’s where you’re being an idiot. Big powerful white witch, and you think she couldn’t handle you?” Spike demanded. “I’ve got news for you, Red. Your bird knows what she’s about. And it’s her choice to be around you or not. You’re bloody well making decisions for her again and treating her like a child.”
“I am not treating her like a child,” Willow insisted. “I just … I just need her to be safe. I need her to be okay.”
“She’s not gonna’ be okay,” Spike returned. “This is going to hurt her more than anything you have >ever< done to her. Because this isn’t about safety, or saving the world – this is about Tara, and the love you two share. This is about you rejecting her love. You won’t let her love you, >that’s< your problem.”
“Shut up, Spike,” Willow demanded.
“Why? Because I’m right?” he shouted. “You’re walking away because you can’t handle the idea of her watching you die, aren’t you? You can’t let her love you enough to be there with you in the end.”
“I said, shut up,” Willow growled, surprising both herself and the vampire with a solid right cross to the jaw. Spike staggered back under the strength of the blow, lifting a hand gingerly to his lip. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” Willow said, her eyes widening as big as saucers.
“It’s all right,” Spike said, carefully shifting his jaw from side to side. He frowned, then looked around. He certainly hoped no one had seen that. Getting defeated by the slayer was one thing. Letting her pet hacker take a potshot was quite another, and he had a reputation to maintain. “Truth hurts, doesn’t it?” he couldn’t resist adding.
“Just … don’t say anything else,” Willow said after a moment of staring at her hand. How much of that little outburst was the darkness rising within her, and how much was just her own temper? She really didn’t know. She liked to think she wasn’t a violent person, but Spike was pushing all of her buttons, poking and prodding at her when she really wasn’t in a good place emotionally.
Spike nodded, but said nothing. He knew when to keep his mouth shut. He usually ignored the knowing and spoke up anyway, because that was more fun, but he always knew. And pissing off the woman who could incinerate him with a thought wasn’t really on his list of things to do that night.
The Sunnydale Train Station loomed before them, and Spike stepped up, pulling the door open and holding it gallantly. Willow glared again, grabbing the door and jerking her chin, motioning Spike inside.
“Fine, see if I do anything polite for you again,” Spike muttered, brushing past the redhead and into the building.
Willow made no comment, instead heading straight for the ticket line. The station was mostly deserted, it’s high ceiling and pew-like seating reminding Willow ridiculously of a cathedral. This certainly wasn’t a holy place, not by any means, and yet the atmosphere and vaguely gothic architecture lent itself to introspection – which was the last thing she wanted right now.
She tried to avoid looking at her surroundings, instead focusing on the task. “Just buy the tickets,” she told herself quietly, keeping an eye on Spike out of the corner of her eye, and moving to the window.
“Destination?” the cashier asked, looking bored.
“Two for Los Angeles, please,” Willow said, reaching into her bag and pulling out her money.
“Los Angeles?” Spike asked, his eyebrows raising. “Why Los Angeles?” he wondered, afraid that he knew.
“It’s easy to get lost there,” Willow said simply, paying for the tickets, then handing one to Spike.
Spike let out a relieved breath, despite the fact he didn’t need to breath. At least Willow hadn’t said the ‘Angel’ word, even if he still inwardly feared that that was exactly where she was planning on going. Still, Angel, he knew, would call Buffy immediately, and that would take care of at least one problem.
“Come on,” Willow said. “Platform three, and the train is leaving in fifteen minutes. I bet they’re boarding already.”
Spike nodded, wondering how he got himself into these situations. He had just planned on having one more smoke before heading in to help with the research and to catch up on what was going on when he had heard a noise around the side of the house. Curious, he had checked, and now he was kicking himself for not running in for back-up. Sure, that hadn’t even occurred to him, but it should have. And now here he was with Red, who shouldn’t be anywhere but at Buffy’s house, about to get on a train to LA.
He hated LA.
The platform was sporadically lit, cones of orange light breaking up the inky shadows. He knew from experience that the trains were a popular form of vampire travel. The windows all had curtains, and sunlight could be avoided, even during the daytime. He was tense and alert as they walked onto the platform, tugging Willow into the shadows, and placing a finger over his lips to silence her protests.
“This place is probably crawling with vampires,” he said softly.
Willow just nodded, looking around, her eyes straining to pierce the gloom around the bits of light. The light, she found, was destroying any scrap of night vision she possessed, and she realized how dangerous the set-up was, despite the fact the light probably made most people more comfortable. Most people were stupid.
For just a moment, she let the idea of stepping into the light and letting some vampire have her bounce around her brain. But no, she couldn’t do that. Even though it would be quicker and less painful, she couldn’t give up outright. Not yet. There was still a smidgen of hope that refused to die inside of her, and she clung to it. Any possibility of returning to Tara was one she wouldn’t throw away. Not without a fight.
“All aboard!” she heard a conductor call from further down the train.
Spike nodded and looked around, motioning her forward and staying at her back. From there, he could see any threat that came at Willow from the front, and he would take any hit that came from behind. If he were being honest with himself, and he tried not to be whenever possible, he would admit to a sort of reluctant fondness for the Scoobies, and Willow was no exception. He had fought all summer by their sides, and though he told himself he didn’t care – couldn’t care – there was a piece of him that did, if for no other reason than Buffy loved the ragtag group of misfits.
A light scuffing noise alerted Spike and he tensed, turning to the right, moving Willow behind him. A low rumble emerged from the darkness, and then a shadowy form stepped forward, resolving itself in Spike’s vision. Of course this couldn’t be simple, he groused inwardly. Nothing involving the Scoobies was ever simple.
“Run,” he yelled, pushing Willow towards the train as The Construct stepped up, a heavy fist flying for Spike’s head.
It never connected as Spike ducked out of the way, kicking the construct back a few steps. He grinned, eager for a chance to release some of his pent-up frustration at his situation when he remembered Willow. “I said run,” Spike growled, turning to Willow who still stood where he had left her. He scooped her up and ran for the train, The Construct just a step behind.
A heavy blow landed against his back and he cursed as he stumbled, losing his grip on Willow who tumbled to the ground.
Willow fell heavily, her mind racing. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was supposed to get away. She was supposed to keep everyone safe, and now The Construct was there, and he would drag her into Hell where The Trickster would get her to perform the ceremony to free him.
She was afraid her resolve wouldn’t be enough. She was afraid she wouldn’t be strong enough – that he would trick her or coerce her, and she would cooperate despite herself.
Spike got to his feet in time to take another blow, this time to the face, sending him back a few steps. He blinked to clear his vision, then leapt forward as the Construct connected with Willow’s prone form, its cruel claws raking down her arm and tearing a good portion of her sleeve away, and opening several long gashes.
He snarled as he connected, tackling the Construct to the ground, landing on top of him and slamming his fist into its face again and again. His game face fully in place, Spike snarled with fury, not bothering with finesse and just hitting the Construct as hard as he could as many times as he could manage.
Far too soon for Spike’s taste, the Construct shoved him off, getting to its feet and moving after Willow again. Thrusting out a leg, Spike tripped up the creature, then got to his feet, grabbing an injured Red off the ground and tossing her bodily onto the train, taking up position at the entrance.
If the Construct was going to get Red, he’d have to go through Spike first.
With a roar, it rushed him, attempting to bowl him over and move past, but Spike braced himself, getting a grip on the things arms and shoving back with all of his supernatural strength. The Construct seemed surprised, then gathered itself, attempting to dislodge the creature in front of it, its gaze intent on Willow.
Willow could only watch as Spike stopped the Construct cold, its yellow eyes seeming to bore into her as it pushed back at the vampire, trying to move Spike.
Spike heard the train start to move, and he shifted his weight, pulling the Construct instead of pushing, and throwing him into the side of the moving train with a loud and satisfying crunch. With one last kick to the things head, he jumped into the doorway where Willow still stood, and watched the dazed creature attempt to stand, the train gaining speed as it pulled out of the station.
by Karzia » Sat Apr 13, 2002 3:51 am 
Hey Owl I just dug out my old JR high uniform, it is a pleated plaid skirt hehehehehehe.
at: 4/15/02 6:25:46 am