The Kitten, the Witches and the Bad Wardrobe - Willow & Tara Forever

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 Post subject: Re: re
PostPosted: Wed Mar 09, 2005 5:43 pm 
I keep waiting for some of you folks to create a general uproar about when Tara is going to appear. I am a peaceful, and somewhat patient beta, but let me tell you, I am dying to see our blue-eyed girl again.



But until then, I encourage you, get everyone you know to read this story. Yes, it will be slow in coming, but R. is dedicated to finishing, and it will be a bang-up tale when he is done.



ash



Can you help me with this heart in my chest? It ain't perfect, but you should see me use it.

Edited by: astrangerhere  at: 3/12/05 5:06 am


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 Post subject: Re: re
PostPosted: Thu Mar 10, 2005 12:06 am 
Color me dedicated indeed. The next piece will definitely set the scene for what is left to do. There is a lot left to do.



I think the next piece will help set out the general direction more clearly.



Like I said I am pretty slow at this and I want it to be as right as I can make it.



Thanks for all the comments.

"There's nothing very merry 'bout going round and round..."

Edited by: raspberryhat at: 3/10/05 2:12 pm


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 Post subject: Some music
PostPosted: Sat Apr 02, 2005 3:42 am 
Hi,



More story soon I promise. I've got another long piece in beta now.



For anyone who might be interested, here is the playlist I used to help me set mood and tone as I was building up chapter one. Sometimes when I am struggling for what to write next I think about what sounds might match the situation. Sometimes there's some piece in my mind that obviously matches what I am writing and helps keep me writing. So, for what it's worth and should you be interested here it is.



Leaving Sunnydale and heading for England.

Cursum Perficio – Enya (from Watermark)



On the train from the Airport to Elizabeth’s country retreat. The dream.

Concerto for Piano & orchestra No.2 in F min Op 21 CT 48- Larghetto – Chopin (Works for Piano and Orchestra – Claudio Arrau)



Forming a prelude to the encounter in the underground and up to when Willow invokes Recuro.

Kosheen – Wish (from the album Kokopelli)



Wondering through the underground toward the underground cavern.

Timesteps – Wendy Carlos (from Clockwork Orange, Complete Original Score)



Into the underground secret cavern.

Barber’s Adagio for Strings – Ferry Corsten Remix (from Cream Live)



The macabre violinist. Building…

5th Caprice – Paganini (24 Caprices – Salvatore Accardo)



Conclusion and post the macabre show.

Mindcircus – Gabriel & Dresden Remix (In Search of Sunrise 3 – DJ Tiesto)



Immersion in magick. Powerless to resist.

The Lady wore Black – Queensryche (Live Evolution – EP Warning Suite)



Forced trip, resulting vision.

Improvisation 2 – Ed Alleyne Johnson (Purple Electric Violin Concerto 2)



Hazy awakenings. Whispered conversations.

Shudder – Little Death Orchestra (from Little Death)



Walking into the forest with Elizabeth.

Les Enfants Sauvent One (The City of Lost Children)



At the Henge in the centre of the forest.

White (Intro) - Ed Alleyne Johnson (Ultraviolet)



Travel to the stones (this was the first scene I wrote. This was the music I imagined.)

Prologue – Loreena McKennitt (Book of Secrets)



Descent into the stone valley and Earthing of power.

Crimson Sunrise – Dream Theatre (Change of Seasons)



Explaining to Giles and Elizabeth about alternate reality effects (Looking back in sorrow)

New Old Age – Peter Erskine Trio (You Never Know)



"There's nothing very merry 'bout going round and round..."

Edited by: raspberryhat at: 4/2/05 2:45 am


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 Post subject: Chapter 2, Part 1
PostPosted: Sun May 08, 2005 11:33 am 
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Through a Glass, Darkly
Temperance (Chapter 2 of ?)
By Raspberryhat


Disclaimer: BtVS does not belong to me.
Background: Everything up to the end of Season Six happened as per canon.
Spoliers: Season three through six.
Distribution: Please ask me first if you’d like to distribute this.
Classification: This part of the story is rated NC-17.
Warnings: Horror, some angst.
Feedback: Feedback is appreciated, but please be gentle.
Draft: 0.6/ 8th May 2005.
Thanks: To Trom DeGrey, Verdant and ASH for so much help with this.


***


Xander couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “England? We have to go to England?!”

I have to go to England,” corrected Buffy. She watched him across the carnage of the Summers’ dinner table as he considered her news.

“But you’ve just been accepted back into college, and…” Seeing her expression grow weary, he broke off.

Buffy managed a wan smile. “Xander, this is simple. Willow needs help. Giles says it’s urgent. I have to go.”

His tone grew serious. He knew when his friend needed unquestioning support. “Okay. How long will you be gone?” He saw the so recently acquired worry lines at the corners of her eyes soften and her gaze become distant.

“About a week I guess. Should be back in plenty of time to re-start college.”

Xander nodded his understanding.

Buffy looked at her sister and saw barely masked disappointment. Dawn had always shown a strong desire to fight alongside her older sibling. Yet Buffy had resisted, knowing Dawn was naïve of the real dangers inherent to her violent calling. Infuriately her protectiveness had, over the last year, driven a deep rift between them. She relented when she’d realised she may otherwise never reclaim a place in her sister’s life. The agreement had been that Dawn would be trained. As her ability grew Buffy would allow her greater inclusion in the fight against whatever darkness each day brought.

In gentle modulated tones she tried to explain. “Dawn, Giles told me about the place we’re going. It’s real and it’s scary. Into the belly of the beast stuff.” Buffy broke her eyes away as she voiced her deepest worry; “I wouldn’t be certain I could keep you safe.” With forced humour that she hoped might coax a smile, she offered, “And besides I barely scraped together the money for one plane ticket!”

She watched Dawn consider her words and after a moment was pleased to see a smile. “Just come back safe so you can re-start college and go get a decent paying job!”

Buffy smiled, relieved her sister understood. With uncertain optimism, she promised, “I will.”

“Will Xander be coming over while you’re gone?” Dawn asked, hope in her eyes.

“You betcha,” he enthused, “complete with take-out and board games. We’ll leave the monster fighting to your big bad sister.”


***


The soft crackling of the kitchen fire soothed Willow’s frayed nerves. Her ordeal at the standing stones had attenuated the voices in her mind. Focussing on the sound of the fire made them almost imperceptible.

Elizabeth had gone out hours ago and told Willow to make herself at home. She spent much of the afternoon sleeping in her room. When she came down, she found it most comfortable and least intrusive in the old kitchen at the back of the house. The flagstones and roughly hewn walls lent an air of solidity, protectiveness.

The sound of creaking hinges caused Willow to jerk her head up in surprise. Her heart beat faster as she realised the door leading out the back of the kitchen had been opened. Willow pushed her chair back in alarm and was mid way to standing when she felt something brush against her leg. She cried out in fear. She looked around trying work out what had touched her.

“Willow?” Elizabeth stood in the kitchen doorway her face full of concern for the young woman in her care.

Breathing deeply, trying to regain her composure, Willow looked at her feet and as she did so, began to feel embarrassed at her sudden outburst. A large splodgy white and ginger cat stretched itself sinuously around her ankles, tail alert.

Still observing Willow from the kitchen door, Elizabeth suddenly looked behind her and then stepped aside as a girl in her late teens came through carrying a grocery bag in her left hand. As she came into view, the cat shot across the room to greet her. The girl smiled and pushed a wave of brunette hair from her eyes, then reached into the grocery bag and removed a plastic sachet of scientific cat food. “Calico!”, she admonished, “You scared poor Willow.” She placed the bag on the kitchen counter and then looked down at the cat in mock seriousness, “I know what you want. You only love me for one thing.”

The cat chased around her feet as she opened the packet and then trotted behind her as she went over to a little china food bowl set by the kitchen door, bent down and emptied the content of the pouch.

Willow saw nothing but loving attention in the girl’s eyes as for several seconds she watched her cat eat. When she looked up, Willow saw her demeanour transform. Nervous now, the girl’s eyes flickered around the room while a her left index finger twirled through a lock of hair.

Elizabeth looked from the girl to Willow who was at a complete loss, waiting for somebody to explain what was going on. “Willow, I’d like to introduce you to Abigail. She’s my live-in student.”

Willow didn’t know what ‘live in student’ meant, but she smiled politely and haltingly offered a hand to the strange girl. When she saw the expression of fear Willow hesitated and then withdrew her hand. She looked at Elizabeth and then back to Abigail and with a shrug, offered a grin.

Abigail watched Willow for a moment, before returning to her waiting grocery bag and beginning to methodically remove fresh vegetables and other healthy looking food stuffs and arrange them out neatly on the kitchen counter.

As Willow watched the nervous young woman, a sudden memory surfaced of the first time Tara had cooked for her. It was not long after she’d managed to understand her true feelings for Tara and tell her new love how she felt. A long study session at the Summers house was interrupted by an energized Buffy announcing she was going out on patrol and wouldn’t be back til morning. Willow knew fine well Buffy’s Mom was away on another art buying trip and that with Buffy gone too, she and Tara would have the place to themselves. Yet Buffy felt the need to spell it out. Willow rolled her eyes at her best friend and risked a glance at Tara. Her heart melted as Tara, brow furrowed and cheeks shading red stared down into her open book. Willow scowled up Buffy who’d grinned, turned and left for her evening’s work. They managed another ten minutes of distracted reading before Tara sat up and made an impromptu offer to cook for them both. Willow sat on a kitchen stool and watched, fascinated as Tara confidently gathered ingredients from the pantry; a medium sized squash, two artichokes and some spices. From the basil plant growing by the window she removed a handful of leaves and then proceeded to make one of the most delightful evening meals Willow could remember eating.

Of course, Tara could have made her pop-tarts and she still would have been enraptured. At that, the image darkened in her mind and the memory fractured leaving only a burning pain in her heart. She tried to clear her thoughts and refocus on Abigail.

Willow realised Abigail had known her name. Elizabeth had obviously told Abigail about her…and must have told her what Willow was and why she was there. And that probably explained why she hadn’t wanted to come too close. Abigail was afraid of her.

“Willow, how do you feel?”

Willow hesitated, trying to bring herself back engage the question. “It hurts,” as she spoke the words, she pointed to her head to better indicate. “The voices are much quieter, but after what happened at the standing stones, it’s like it scarred my brain.”

“Did you manage to rest today?”

Willow nodded, “Yeah.”

She didn’t look at Elizabeth as she spoke. She thought Elizabeth expected her to be all over her ordeal by now and she couldn’t even begin to describe the state of chaos in her head.

“Willow, sit,” she urged.

Willow looked at Elizabeth curiously, but did as she was asked.

“Abi, join us please.”

The nervous young woman turned uncertainly, holding a box of tomatoes in mid-air. After a moment, she placed the box back in the bag, turned around, pulled a chair out from the head of the table and sat. She looked between the two women, curiosity for a moment overcoming her nerves.

Elizabeth spoke first. “Willow, you’re wondering if it’s really worked.”

“Yes.”

“What do you think the standing stones actually did to you?”

Willow glanced up at Abi, before turning her embarrassed expression back to Elizabeth. “Do we have to talk about this now?” she asked.

“Willow, Abi has experienced some of the things you’ve experienced and some things you probably couldn’t even imagine.”

Willow glanced at Abi before focussing her attention back on Elizabeth. “You mean she’s— ” She cut herself off realising how rude it sounded talking about Abi to Elizabeth as if she wasn’t there.

Without a hint of emotion, Elizabeth intoned, “She was forced to work dark magick.”

Willow tried to comprehend what she was being told. She looked at Abi again. Her expression was detached. Slowly Willow asked, “Forced? How? Why?”

“Willow, I know you know what it feels like to be given dark magick. A non-consensual transfer works in the same basic way, it’s just…a lot more traumatic for the recipient.”

Willow shuddered when beyond the memory of her acceptance of darkness from Rack, she remembered having been given a tiny burst of magick when she hadn’t wanted it or expected it. Amy...Her expression darkened at the memory of someone she’d once thought of as a friend. Of course Abigail’s behaviour made sense. She feared the effect of her own touch on others.

“I found her when she was nine. She’s lived with me for five years”

Willow looked at Abi, shocked, “You mean she’s only…”

“Abigail’s seen a lot,” explained Elizabeth, “she’s learning how to live in the world again. You may travel some of Abi’s path.”

Willow risked a glace at Abi. Somehow the girl remained detached as she listened to her own story.

“So tell me Willow, what do you think the ordeal at the stones did to you?”

Willow dragged her eyes back to Elizabeth but found words would not come easily. She looked down, allowing her long auburn to shadow her face in an effort to disguise her discomfort. Every detail remained clear in her mind. She’d felt the power being drained out of her. The hollowness still ached. Eventually she looked up and answered; “It took away my magick. It made me s-safe.”

Elizabeth reached out her hand, finger extended and deftly captured Willow’s chin. She lifted Willow’s face until big round eyes were looking back into her own. “Have you tried to do magick since last night?”

Willow shook her head. “Of course not. But I can feel what it took away.”

“Willow, the stones did not take away your ability to do magick.”

Willow looked at Elizabeth doubtfully. “I know what I felt. I was connected to the stones. It was wrenched out of me. It hurt like I can’t even describe.”

Elizabeth’s expression was patient. “Willow, as well as wielding power, witches are vessels. The vessel draws from the world around and fills. A witch focuses her power through spells and other means to achieve an intent.”

Willow grimaced. She didn’t need Magick 101.

“Willow, you think you know everything, but you don’t. You’re a contradiction. You have so much ability, such capacity for power and so little understanding. You’re so young.”

Willow felt her temper rising. “I know how it works. I filled myself with…” She broke off as realisation dawned. “The stones drained my power, but it’ll come back. It’ll come back and it’ll happen again.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No.” She caught Willow’s truculent expression. “It’s not quite that simple,” she soothed. “Yes the power will build up again. You draw power from nature faster than anyone I’ve ever seen, and you have such capacity…But—it’s intent that colors the magick. The power itself is neutral.”

Willow’s mind was spinning now. “You’re saying that it’s me. I’m evil.” Her tear ducts overflowed as she spoke the words that confirmed her worst fears. She was no better than those she’d helped fight over the years. She never deserved to be with someone like Tara, it had all been an illusion.

“Willow no!”

Willow found Elizabeth’s elevated tone unnerving. She averted her gaze and waited for the homily to continue.

“Just listen,” Elizabeth’s tone softened as she added, “I want you to listen and think about this.”

Willow looked up, waiting.

“Your continued choice to use dark magick selfishly for quick results and for dark purpose destroyed your perspective. When crisis threatened, you turned to magick and even when magick was appropriate your instinct was not to work with light.”

Willow tried to keep the emotion from her voice, “But you’re saying when my power comes back it’ll happen all over again.”

“I am saying that it’s about keeping your equilibrium and understanding the nature of power. It’s about being human.”

Willow’s mind turned in silence. When her voice came it was a whisper. “The things I’ve done. Those things can’t be undone can they? What can I do? What’s the point of trying?”

“Willow, you won’t believe it now, but time and perspective can heal more than you could possibly imagine. That’s why you’re here. I am going to begin teaching you to better understand magick so that you can better control the ability you have.”

“But I do understand—” protested Willow.

“If you understood, we would not be having this conversation. None of this would have happened.”

“Okay…but look, what if the power builds up before you’ve finished teaching me and I can’t control it on my own?”

Elizabeth nodded again. “Giles said you didn’t miss much.”

Willow grimaced before Elizabeth continued. “You’re right about that. Which is why we’re going to have to do something to inhibit you until we’ve spent enough time working on your magick.”

“How do we do that? Obsidian sure didn’t work! Giles showed me his hand, and that was only a simple spell.”

“You’re right, but I am not talking about inhibiting your magick, I am talking about slowing the process of you actually absorbing power from nature.”

Willow waited. This was beyond anything she knew or thought she knew.

“Willow, there’s an artefact. It’s complicated, but effectively it will prevent you from absorbing power.”

Pensive, Willow asked, “How does it work?”

Elizabeth hesitated again. “Well, I don’t know exactly how it works.”

Willow looked confused.

“The texts refer to its properties and where it’s been used in the past…”

“Texts?”

Elizabeth sighed. She wanted Willow’s trust but knew explaining this would be time consuming. “Its origins are uncertain. I’ve seen no clear account of the process through which it operates. I’ve read theories however.”

“But it does work?”

Elizabeth’s face clouded. To Willow’s surprise, Elizabeth averted her gaze and fell silent. For a moment, the only sound in the room was feline post-prandial washing and the crackling of the fire.

“Yes. I’ve seen it working.”

“And where is this artefact?” enquired Willow.

“A few hundred miles from here. In a forgotten place.”


***


“How much longer are we going to have to wait?”

“Patience Abraham.”

“I hate this place. It scares the hell out of me.”

“It’s just a hospital.”

“Raphael, I know this place has not been used as a hospital for a very long time. And even then, it wasn’t a normal hospital.”

“True. It was a mental hospital.”

“With nine underground floors and cell doors made from three inch thick steel?”

Raphael leaned over the balcony railing and peered into the gloom below. Floor upon floor, rows and rows of doors, on the upper levels many of which hung limp from tortured hinges. The smell of damp rust permeated. “It serves a purpose. You should be grateful for this duty.”

“Mr. White said I showed potential and this assignment would help demonstrate my commitment.”

“There you are then.”

“I just couldn’t have imagined what this would be like.”

“They will come soon.”

“And they really want to find him?”

“They have no choice.”

“And they’d risk releasing him?”

“They need that which binds him.”

“Surely if they did manage to release him, he would kill them?”

“Most likely. But, if they retrieve the artefact, re-containing him would be ‘difficult’. You know what it took last time.”

Abraham shuddered at the thought. “Have you been told when it will happen?”

“Soon.”


***


As she held the phone to her ear, waiting for an answer, Elizabeth watched Willow trudge up the stairs. After Abi had excused herself, she and Willow had discussed what had to be done to help Willow contain her power. They’d talked a long time, but eventually there had seemed no more to say and Elizabeth had suggested Willow get some rest. Just as Elizabeth was considering trying again later, the call connected but there was no greeting, just a distant crackle of the long distance line. She cleared her throat. “I need to speak to Mr. Rupert Giles please?”

Pause. “Just one moment please.”

A long minute later and finally a familiar sounding, “Yes?”

“It’s me.”

“Elizabeth, I was beginning to worry, how are things? Have you told her about the next part of the plan?”

“I have spoken to Willow.”

“And how did she react?”

Elizabeth adjusted the phone in her right hand and rubbed tired eyes with her left. “For someone who’s been through what she has? Comparatively well I thought. She didn’t seem abnormally worried by the prospect of what we’re going to have to do, although I think knowing The Slayer would be alongside her probably helped.”

“Yes, yes of course. They’ve been through a lot together. When I spoke to her, I think Buffy was glad to be able to help.” Giles hesitated, before asking, “You told Willow how the artefact will actually be retrieved?”

“More or less.”

Giles sighed.

“It will be okay Rupert. We don’t have a choice in this and I don’t want her to have to sit up all night worrying. She needs rest.”

“Just take good care of them for me?”

Elizabeth smiled, warmed by her old friend’s concern. “Finish your research. I’ll look after things here and call you when it’s over.”

She replaced the receiver of her telephone onto its cradle and thought. The plan was high risk, but there seemed no other way. After another moment’s thought she marched back through the kitchen, pulled on her long coat and opened the kitchen door and set out into the night.



Abi snapped awake with a sudden intake of breath and heart thumping. She tried to focus on the sound that awakened her. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision and see in the near darkness of her bedroom. Earlier she’d heard Willow climb the stairs and not long after she’d heard Elizabeth leave the house. She’d tried to stay awake, listening for her guardian’s return, but sleep had overtaken her. She could usually sense if Elizabeth was within the house. Elizabeth would sometimes go out at night and it had never bothered her before, but something felt different about this night. She felt alone and scared.

After a moment she got up, pulled her nightgown from the back of the door and wondered out her room and down the hall to the master bedroom. She stopped at the closed door and listened. The place seemed empty. She tapped her nails on the wooden door before easing it open. “’Lizabeth?” She peered inside. Grey moonlight filtered through the small windows and illuminated a sleeping cat, curled on the large empty bed.


***


“Mr. White, thank you for seeing me at such short notice.”

“You came here, to my house, to ask for help.”

“Yes,” came the calm response.

“You know, I cannot act outside the behest of my masters.”

“Mr. White--”

“You’re going to remind me of something that you did for me, a long, long time ago.”

Elizabeth sat very still, watching the back of the gaunt, grey haired man before her. Known more often as Herr Weiss but always to her as Mr. White, the old man stared through the vast arched window and out across his estate.

“It may have been a long time ago, but that does not diminish the significance of what I did for you.”

The gaunt figure whirled, all hint of cordiality gone, eyes blazing.

“There was precedent then. Reason! How dare you come to me like this and ask a favor?!”

Unshaken, Elizabeth responded; “I know fine well that your so called masters did not know of our collaboration then and still don’t.”

Mr. White sat down behind his desk, eyes once again thoughtful.

Elizabeth pressed on. “I ask, because this is more than just a favour, all our fates are at stake here. I know you understand the situation. Please don’t make me spell it out.”

“Say I helped you…that would leave another problem.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes it would create a problem and I have a method of dealing with that problem.”

“Indeed? And why could you not have applied this method the first time?”

“Because I did not have this particular solution at the time.”

Mr. White sat back again and pursed his lips.

“No. I am sorry, but this time, you ask too much. There is no force majeaure. I cannot help you.”

Elizabeth stood up briskly. “Then I thank you for your time Mr. White. I’ll see myself out.”

Mr. White returned to staring across the darkened landscape. After many moments, he turned around to his desk and lifted the a slim grey telephone handset and dialled. When the call connected, he confirmed; “Tomorrow night.”

In the darkness Raphael replaced the receiver and smiled.


***


Abi crept into Elizabeth’s room and sat on the edge of the bed. She saw Calico open an eye and watch her as she looked down at her hands, mind in turmoil, eyes fearful. After a moment, Abi crawled onto the bed and curled up. She watched the cat watching her. Calico stretched and padded over to her. Finding comfort she curled against Abi’s stomach, tail twitching occasionally as she settled.

The linen carried Elizabeth’s familiar scent. It calmed Abi’s nerves. She closed her eyes and breathed, concentrating on the sense of Elizabeth. Whatever had awakened her was probably just an animal outside. Abi hoped Elizabeth would be back soon though. She reasoned Elizabeth was obviously out doing something important and would surely be back before long. Calico lay curled against her, occasionally purring to herself. Abi felt her nervousness begin to ebb away, allowing sleep to wash over her.

Some time in the early hours, Calico stirred and jumped off the bed, causing the sleeping figure to awaken, to see what had caused the disturbance. Her eyes gained focus and Abi saw Elizabeth standing in the bedroom doorway, watching her proprietarily while Calico smoothed herself against Elizabeth’s ankles. As Elizabeth entered the bedroom, Abi felt peace descend in her thoughts and she closed her eyes again. She rolled over to the far side of the bed as she felt a blanket being pulled over her .

She listened without fear as quiet words were whispered in her ear. “Abi, Willow and I need to go away. We’ll be leaving very early tomorrow and we’ll be back the following day. You’ll be on your own until the day after tomorrow. You’ll be safe, I promise.”

Abi smiled in her descending sleep and nodded her understanding.

Elizabeth reached out a hand to stroke a lock of hair from her adoptive daughter’s face and smiled. For once Abi looked peaceful and unworried.


***


Buffy brooded as she stared out the taxi window. She’d decided the English countryside was disappointing. For a start, everything was overshadowed by darkening clouds. And instead of idyllic rolling fields and sumptuous forestry, it was just miles and miles of farm land and sometimes the occasional house. It was all starting to blacken her mood. She reflected that maybe there were nice parts of Giles’ homeland and it was just her role in life to go to the bleakest places because evil rarely chose to hang out in locations of outstanding natural beauty. After a while she reached into her pocket for the page of instructions she’d written down before leaving Sunnydale. It had all sounded simple enough. Giles had made her read everything back to him to make sure she understood.

She was to find a taxi at the airport, show the driver the location on the piece of paper and ask him to take her there. Giles had advised her to offer to pay extra if the driver hadn’t been keen to drive the considerable distance.

When she got there, she was supposed to wait for Elizabeth and Willow to meet her. She’d been unclear on exactly why Giles himself couldn’t come. He’d been emphatic that she do everything Elizabeth asked and to trust her. Buffy had already pictured Elizabeth as an uptight Mrs. Giles type and wasn’t at all sure she was going to like her.

It had all sounded simple enough. Only they’d been on the road for nearly three hours. City had turned to increasingly empty looking country. The driver had already asked her twice to repeat the location of where they were supposed to be going. She was reasonably sure they were lost.

Leaning forward in her seat and trying to keep the impatience from her voice, she asked, “Do you have a cell phone I could borrow?”

The driver flicked his eyes to her in the rearview mirror before sighing and reluctantly reaching into the glovebox and retrieving a slim cell phone. He passed it back to her.

Buffy raised her eyebrows in appreciation. “Nice phone.”

“I hope you’re not planning to call home are you?”

Buffy smiled quickly, “Nope. Local call. Promise. It’ll only take a second.”

She looked down at the piece of paper and then keyed a number into the phone. After a moment she heard a woman’s voice, “Hello?”

“Is that Elizabeth?”

“Yes. Buffy? Are you lost?”

Though relieved at not having to introduce and explain herself, she asked, “How did you know I was lost?”

“We’ve been waiting here a while.”

“Ah. Stupid driver—” Buffy looked up apologetically as she spoke. “Tell me again where this place is…”


***


Elizabeth pressed the terminate call button on her cell phone and placed it back in her pocket. She stared thoughtfully out the window of her four-by-four for a moment before turning to address Willow who’d been peering out the windshield wondering what they were doing in the middle of nowhere.

“Willow, sorry about that.”

“That was Buffy?”

Elizabeth nodded. “She’ll be here soon”.

“So tell me again how this is going to work.”

“We need to retrieve the artefact.”

Willow sighed, again the familiar feeling of helplessness washed over her. “What I mean is, I don’t see how I can help.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Willow, once we have the artefact, transporting it is simply too dangerous. There will be those who would take it from us. Once it’s on you it will be very hard for anyone to take it from you. And besides, even though you can’t work magick, your knowledge of magick may still come in useful.”

Willow swallowed nervously. “Elizabeth, where exactly is the artefact? I mean is it like in a vault or something?”

“Not exactly, no.”

“Then what?”

“The artefact is binding Antorwath.”

“What’s an Antorwath?”

“Not what. Who.”

“Who?” Willow looked at her hands and tried to restrain the frustrated annoyance she felt. She took a breath and looked up at Elizabeth. As calmly as she could she asked, “What are we getting into?”

When she replied, Elizabeth’s voice was level. “Willow I am not trying to hide things from you. I just felt it would be easier to explain once we were all here.”

Willow reflected that perhaps Elizabeth had been expecting the question. Her answer seemed too measured, too well prepared. She decided to test her own theory. “Okay then, let me see if I have this right,” began Willow, “you’re saying that the artefact that’s capable of keeping me drained of power is already working on someone else?”

“That’s basically it, yes.”

“Is it human?”

Elizabeth’s expression clouded. “He was once.”

Willow slumped back in her seat and blew out a frustrated breath. After a few seconds she realised she was going to have to ask. “So how do we avoid getting killed once we’ve taken it off him, assuming we can take it off him and by the way, is it a him?”

“Well, I have a plan…Ahh!”

Elizabeth looked up as a car approached on the desolate country highway. “That must be Buffy!”


***


Willow stood next to the four-by-four, with her hands shoved deep into her jeans pockets. Despite being summer, the sky was pale grey and the wind had a chill edge. She watched Buffy emerge from the taxi.

“Hey Will!”

Willow smiled and waited as bags were hauled out the trunk of the taxi and unceremoniously dumped on the roadside. Money was exchanged and seconds later, the car was receding into the distance leaving a petite Slayer standing by the side of the road next to her bag, hands on hips, inspecting the landscape.

Willow walked over to her friend. “Hey. How was your flight?”

Buffy shrugged. “Okay I guess. They only had two movies. Both not good.”

Willow managed a smile. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you so soon.”

Buffy grinned and then shivered. “It’s so…like I imagined.”

Willow nodded. “You start to get used to it.” She offered Buffy a tight smile. “Elizabeth’s waiting in the car.”

“Take me to her!” commanded Buffy pointing towards the truck.

Willow grinned. As she turned to walk back to the four-by-four, she saw Elizabeth had emerged from the driver’s side and was waiting for them. As they drew closer, Elizabeth spoke up, “You must be Giles’ young protégé I’ve heard so much about.”

Buffy blushed. “I dunno about protégé…but well…I am Buffy. Nice to meet you.” She stuck out a hand which Elizabeth clasped in formal greeting.

‘Very ladylike,’ thought Buffy as she continued to smile. “So look, we’re here on business yes?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Our destination is actually a few miles cross-country from here.” Elizabeth indicated a narrow, muddy track that lead off into the trees.

“You can put your things in the back with the supplies.”

Buffy threw her things in the back and then climbed in after Elizabeth and Willow.

Elizabeth turned again, “Everyone please make sure your strapped in, it’s going to be a little bit of a rough ride.”

Buffy sat up and looked from Elizabeth to Willow and back again before framing her concern; “Er, nobody’s actually told me exactly what I’m here to do yet.”

“I’ll explain on the way,” reassured Elizabeth.

“Fine. Just tell me one thing?”

“What is it?”

“What is this place we’re going to?”

Elizabeth sighed and without turning back answered, “It’s where they used to make nightmares.”

Buffy opened her eyes wide. Willow stared straight ahead and listened to Elizabeth explain even though she already had some idea of what this place had once been.


***


Willow peered up into the branches. “Buffy? Can you see it?”

“I see it. Who, the hell built this place?” whispered the Slayer.

“What’s it like?”

“Hang on… I’m coming down.” Straddling the oak bough, Buffy used a hand to steady herself as she peered forward, adjusting the focus of her binoculars as she did so.

“Careful,” whispered Willow.

Buffy stashed her binoculars and swung her leg up until she sat perched on the edge of the branch and then dropped lightly down onto the roof of Elizabeth’s truck. Willow winced at the thud as Buffy’s feet landed on the roof, before she hopped the final distance to the ground. She brushed bark and moss from her front and looked at Willow with a curious expression. “Who the hell designed this place? It’s weird.”

“What did you see?”

“It’s a whole complex but everything’s one story. It’s all scary dark windows and poison ivy.”

Willow felt her heart quicken as gothic images scuttled through her inventive mind. “Elizabeth said it used to be a sanatorium back in the thirties but that it closed a couple of years after the government sold it to a private consortium. Didn’t work out I guess.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “It looks more like a prison than an asylum.”

“Well I guess it is. He’s in there,” said Willow.

“Yeah and here’s the part I’m still not sure I get. We have to get into his cell so we can take this magick charm that binds his power and then I’m a little hazy on the mayhem that comes after that.”

“As soon as we get the artefact, he’ll need to be held back while we get away.”

“Huh. Okay. Another day, another monster.”

“So anyway, did you see anyone or anything going on in there?”

“Nada.”

After a second, Buffy asked cautiously, “Willow, er what do you feel? Can you like 'hear’ him?”

Willow looked away, embarrassed. “Not really.” She wished she’d explained to Buffy what’d happened with the draining of her power, but there just hadn’t seemed a good time. It was all still too fresh in her mind and she wasn’t sure she understood it herself yet. More than anything, her lack of power embarrassed her.

After a while Buffy asked, “How are we going to find our way around in there anyway?”

“Elizabeth, she’s been to this place before.”

“What? How does she know?”

“She didn’t say, she just said she’s been here before and she knows her way around.”

“Huh. So she’ll help us find this Antwerp?”

Despite herself, Willow smiled in the darkness. “An-tor-wath.”

“Right. That’s what I said.”

“Buffy?”

The Slayer turned at the sound of her name. Elizabeth was walking towards the two women. She’d gone off to reconnoitre the target from a different location.

“Did you get a good look at the place? Did you see any guards or possibly a discrete way in?”

Buffy frowned. “I got a look…but it’s enormous. I couldn’t see a door or anything. But I was looking by moonlight, it’s really hard to see that much.”

“So, how do we get in?” worried Willow.

Elizabeth flashed a tight lipped smile. “I think we’ll just have to walk in through the front door.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Oh well as long as it’s nothing dangerous then.”

Elizabeth adjusted her small khaki backpack. “There are weapons and supplies in the truck.”

“Oh goodie,” said Buffy.


***


“Raphael?”

“Yes Abraham?”

“What will we do when they come?”

“We’ll open up the rest of the cells.”

“There aren’t so many left as there used to be,” said Abraham.

Raphael smiled. “It makes our life easier if there are fewer of them to deal with.”

“But where do they go?”

“All over. Quite a few turned up in London, living in the sewers, the underground.”

“What happened to them when they were found?”

Raphael raised an eyebrow at that. Abraham quickly changed the subject. “Will they even come out?”

“Yes.”

After a while, Abraham asked. “What if they do get past them?”

“In the unlikely event they evade their welcoming committee, we will prevent them from reaching their goal.”


***


Willow peered through the wire meshed glass in one of the double doors that formed the entrance to the place Elizabeth called “Elysium”. Tentative, she tried the brass knob and to her surprise, the mechanism turned easily and the latch clicked. She turned to Buffy and raised her eyebrows. Poised to enter the building Willow felt Buffy place an arm on hers in gentle restraint. “Let me.” Willow felt her spirit wilt a little but forced a smile. “Okay.”

Buffy pushed open the door and entered. She eased the door shut before turning to survey the foyer of the main building. She listened and her sharp eyes scanned the space for sign of any threat. When she’d satisfied herself the immediate area was safe, she turned back to the door and beckoned Willow and Elizabeth to follow her in.

Willow grimaced and then pushed open the door. She wrinkled her nose. The air was moist and smelled dirty. Elizabeth followed Willow, peering around the place examining everything in detail.

Moonlight filtered through the patina of grime on the reception windows. The Elysium foyer and reception area was ruined. Years of damp had rotted through the broad couches that sat against the long side wall to the right of and parallel to the entrance. Ochre newspapers from decades past lay strewn across low wooden tables. Mildew stained the wood surface beneath.

The carpets had long since fallen victim to the same slow process of degradation as everything else and now lay rotten and squelching under foot. Opposite the front door, a thick white wooden counter ran two thirds the length of the back wall. Glass fragments, large and small lay across the counter.

Incongruously, hanging on the wall behind the counter were two glass framed pictures. One, an anatomical model of what looked like a human skull. The other showed what appeared to be a blue-print of the complex.

Elizabeth pointed to a heavy white door next to the counter. “That way, I think.” As with the reception doors, about two thirds of the way up was a small square, re-enforced glass window. Buffy walked over to the door and peered through the glass. “Can’t see much.” She wrapped her slim fingers around the steel handle. A gentle pull and the door opened. “Huh. Not locked.”

“Be careful Buffy,” warned Elizabeth.

Lips tight and eyes alert, she nodded. “I won’t be long.” Buffy reached to the scabbard at her waist and carefully extended a beautiful Katana she’d selected from a set of exquisitely made Japanese weapons held in individual wooden cases mounted in the back of Elizabeth’s truck.

Slowly she stepped over the threshold, and allowed her eyes to adjust to the gloom of a broad passageway. She turned once more and offered a reassuring smile to her companions before returning her full concentration to what was ahead.

Allowing the door to click shut behind her, Buffy walked a few steps into the corridor. The surface of the floor felt uneven, like cracked or broken tiles. Soon the dim light that had filtered through from the reception area faded. Praeternatural sense allowed Buffy to move through the darkness with reasonable confidence.

Pools of stagnant water suggested the place had been flooded. Everything was water damaged. Abruptly, she stopped , listening. Her imagination stirred her fears. Elizabeth had not gone into great detail but it was enough to conjure images of once human monstrosities disfigured and mutated by dark magicks. Turning, Buffy drew in her strength and raised her sword. When she saw the creature approaching, her heart turned cold and she saw the true face of the horror that had been made here.


***


“Mr. Giles?”

The quiet calling of his name took several seconds to rouse the tired Watcher from his studies.

The Council curator smiled genially. “I have the papers you asked for.”

Giles managed to suppress his surprise. He cleared his throat. “Er, thank you. Could you just place them on the table over there?”

“Of course sir.”

Giles replaced his glasses as the curator laid the stack of files next to the pile of tattered looking texts on the ancient reading table. Casually he asked, “Any problem finding them?”

“No sir, most of the files are of a reduced classification now.”

“Yes, of course.” Giles tried to affect an air of casual understanding.

“Would you like me to remove these books?” The curator indicated the half filled trolley sitting next to the end of the reading table.

“Er, yes, yes please. Thank you.”

Curious, Giles waited as the old man slowly pushed the trolley out on creaking wheels. As the door eased shut, Giles closed the book he’d been studying and pulled the pile of papers to him.

Finding the books on the list Elizabeth had provided had not taken long. The Council’s collection of magick and occult texts were extensive. His request for intelligence files on advancements in thaumaturgy in the last fifty years had been something of a whim. The librarian had nodded noncommittally when he’d made the request and Giles had been fully expecting to be told there was nothing available or that he did not have a suitable level of clearance. Therefore he was rather surprised at the size of the stack currently sitting before him and the ease with which it had been obtained.

He began to scan through the titles. He stopped suddenly at one particular file entitled “Survey of Thaumo-Eugenics Research.” He pulled the file out and opened it. Although a thick sheaf of papers were held inside, the text was heavily censored.

The top paper was dated February 1967 and seemed to be the main survey document. A number of addenda had been attached to the back of the file over the years. As he read, his stomach turned at what the research had entailed. Despite his revulsion to the implications of what was involved in the actual work, the supposed insights gained garnered his curiosity.

As he slowly turned the pages, among other things, the text mentioned advancement into the problems of “Magick Induced Dimensional Dissociation” and into the associated possibilities of “Multiple Harmonic Dimensional Travel”.

With frequent references to thaumaturgy as well as physics and biochemistry he could only intuit some of the possibilities suggested by such research, yet even that seemed to bear powerful resonance with Willow’s situation.

Beyond the possibilities offered by what he’d read--it was the closing remarks that shocked him. The summing up made reference to an organisation which had at the time of the report been considered the foremost research consortium in this area, working in the field since the nineteen thirties. There was a long list of names of researchers who’d worked for the organisation, along with areas of expertise and dates. Near the end of the list was the name “Elizabeth R. Brown, PhD, Visiting Researcher-- January 1966 to July 1967.” Listed as working at “Elysium Medical Research Hospital.”

Giles flicked to the end of the file and found a note dated December 1967, indicating that the organisation in question was now defunct, its researches considered failed. Whatever had gone on at Elysium had ended not long after Elizabeth’s had completed her tenure. He began to flip slowly back through the pages, reflecting that being re-instated to the Council of Watchers did bring certain advantages when it came to research.


***


Willow jumped back from peering into the passageway when she heard rapid footsteps. “ Buffy?”

The door swung open making a dull thud as it hit the side of the reception counter.

Alarmed, Willow watched Buffy lean for a moment on the doorway, breathing hard, eyes angry. Her shirt and jeans were stained and damp. “Buff? What happened? Are you alright?”

As she regained her breath, Buffy stalked over to the reception counter where Elizabeth stood studying the charts that hung on the back wall. She turned as Buffy approached.

“What the hell,” Buffy demanded, “is this?” As she asked the question, she held up a severed head.

Willow’s hand flexed involuntarily to her mouth.

The head was not human, its eyes were enormous and it’s mouth was dark and distended, no teeth, just a bloody hole.

“It, was a person,” murmured Elizabeth.

Buffy eyed Elizabeth uncertainly and then looked down at the thing she was holding. Her hand opened convulsively and the head fell to the floor. “This used to be somebody?” she rasped.

“Buffy, I am so sorry, I really hoped you wouldn’t have to deal with this. I’d hoped they’d all be gone or too old to be a threat.”

Buffy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “This was ‘done’ to somebody?!”

Elizabeth nodded. “I tried to explain. Any humanity will have long since been pacified.”

“He attacked me.”

“I know. I am sorry.”

Buffy’s expression shifted from anger to sudden fear, “Wait a second. You said ‘they’?”

Elizabeth knew she’d been too optimistic in assuming that not everything that could go wrong would go wrong. She closed her eyes for a moment as graphic memories awakened in her mind.

“This place was used for certain dangerous experiments. After the experiments stopped, its designation was changed to keeping experimental left-overs, that could not be destroyed.”

Buffy’s brow furrowed. “Does that mean Antorwath—”

Elizabeth nodded. “He’s the product of years of experimentation. He was brought her in the late sixties for the final most hazardous stages. The work left him too dangerous to do anything with…”

Willow cut in, “But they found a way to bind all his power so they could keep him locked away in a place like this without worrying about him getting out. Secret research labs cost lots of money and have a way of being discovered.” She looked at Buffy meaningfully as she thought back to the Initiative labs that had been based right below UC Sunnydale. Of course even they weren’t into this kind of thing. They’d never really understood the magicks. Willow hated the analogy but their work seemed crude butchery in comparison to this.

Buffy straightened up. “Look, let’s cut to the chase here. There are obviously other things still running about in there. This place has been left alone for so long half the prisoners could have escaped.”

“Or someone could have let them out,” added Elizabeth darkly.


***


The door to the guard’s control room opened tentatively.

“What is it Abraham?”

The younger man jumped at the sound of his name. Raphael had not turned. He just continued to lean on a section of the metal railing that delineated a broad circular aperture in the floor through which one could see every floor from top to bottom of the facility.

Abraham entered the guard room and approached his superior cautiously.

Raphael continued to stare down into the complex. After a moment he asked, “She killed one?”

Abraham halted his approach. “Yes.”

“The witch?”

“No the other. She’s strong.”

Raphael rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“How?”

“Sword. It was quick. She was skilful. Well trained.”

“As good as you?”

“I would say not.”

Another nod.

“What should I do?”

“Go. Watch. Report back if they get beyond the fifth.”

“Okay.

Abraham didn’t understand why they couldn’t use magick. Raphael had simply said it would be dangerous in this environment. From the wall next to the door, Abraham took down a long samurai sword and examined it closely. Light glinted off the minute facets in the shape of the blade. He weighed it in his hand, getting a feel for it. Comfortable, he placed the sword in its saya and headed out the door, leaving his companion to his contemplation.


***

_________________
There's nothing very merry 'bout going round and round.


Last edited by raspberryhat on Sun May 08, 2005 2:20 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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 Post subject: Chapter 2, Part 2
PostPosted: Sun May 08, 2005 11:35 am 
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Continued…
***


Elizabeth studied the young Slayer. “Buffy, how far in did you get? Were there any others that you could see or hear?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay, We need to find our way to Antorwath, retrieve the artefact and get it onto Willow. The reception is quite some way from the main complex. We need to head through the corridor that Buffy’s just swept…”

Willow interrupted, “What about if there are more of those things running around?”

“Buffy and I will take point. You should follow when we’ve confirmed it’s clear.”

Willow hated feeling so useless and worse she hated being the cause of all this. Things could have been so different. “Once we reach the main complex, is it far to go?” asked Willow.

Elizabeth hesitated. “The main building is mostly underground. It’s not actually that far from the top to where we need to be, but it is complicated. Easy to get lost. Stops inmates escaping.”

Frowning, Willow wondered what the odds of finding their way out were. She watched Elizabeth rummage in her backpack and pull out three long handled flashlights. She handed one to each of her companions and kept one herself.

Elizabeth gave a tight smile. “Come on, we should get moving.”

Buffy followed Elizabeth towards the door. Willow watched the two of them pause momentarily and then walk over the threshold. She looked up at the ceiling wondering if anyone up there was watching over her or cared if she lived or died. She shook her head and headed towards the sound of Buffy chattering away as she walked down the corridor with Elizabeth.


***


‘How much further?’ wondered Buffy under her breath. They seemed to be walking through a low security area. The corridor was punctuated with doors leading off to small wards. Black iconography adorned the dirtied white doors. Buffy didn’t recognise any of the symbols, but had opened one door and poked her head through. There was nothing but broken glass and rusting hospital paraphernalia.

“Not far now,” responded Elizabeth as she peered into the gloom of the corridor.

Buffy cleared her throat. “If we run into one of those, er, things again…”

Elizabeth did not look back. “Yes?”

“Well,” Buffy suddenly felt rather awkward, “well, you’re a witch, you can do magick can’t you? Surely you’d be able to…”

Elizabeth smiled in the darkness. She understood the Slayer’s hesitance given her recent experiences with magick. She was still surprised it had taken Buffy so long to ask though. Looking behind to ensure she could still see Willow, Elizabeth said, “Just keep walking slowly and I’ll explain.”

Buffy wondered what this was about. A simple “yes” would have answered her question.

“One of the primary abilities I have is to harness and redirect power.”

“What does that mean?”

“Buffy, you’ve studied the martial arts haven’t you? Rupert told me he’s developed a hybrid fighting system with you.”

“Yeah. I am not very good with the Japanese names of the moves though. I don’t see why it matters…”

Elizabeth continued in earnest, “Has he ever taught you about an art called Ai-ki-do?”

Buffy’s brow furrowed. “Oh! Yes actually. Giles used to love to talk about these kick-ass masters because they showed what was possible for normal humans,” she grimaced, “with enough hard work! It’s all about harness your opponent’s power…oh I see. You’re talking about a sort of magick version of that?”

Elizabeth smiled to herself. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.” She hesitated but knew Buffy had to know, “it is my primary power though. Even if it was appropriate, I can’t attack with magick and I can do little to defend against a brute force attack.”

Buffy slowed her pace, about to stop but remembered they were trying to keep ahead of Willow, trying to keep her safe. Elizabeth had not wanted her to hear. “So…what happens if you’re attacked with powerful magick?”

Elizabeth folder her arms and kept looking straight ahead. “I can take that power and focus it, compress it, transform it and ultimately redirect it.”

“Like back onto an attacker?”

“Yes.”

“So basically any muscle bound monsters and I’m on my own?”

Elizabeth nodded again. “Yes, only, while they may be strong, developing physical strength was not the main thrust of the experimentation that went on here.”

Buffy shuddered and strolled briskly on, shining the light up ahead of them. “Hey, looks like we’ve got a choice.” She stopped. “Okay. Which way? Left, right or straight up?” She waited for Elizabeth and Willow to catch up.

Elizabeth seemed to be thinking. After a moment she announced, “We need to go right.”

She pointed up ahead, as she talked. “That way leads straight to the security centre. And up there,” she pointed toward the darkened left corridor, “is just more wards.”

Buffy looked up ahead. “So that’s where our friend could have come from?”

“It’s possible,” confirmed Elizabeth, “but we don’t know for sure.”

Willow looked down the right hand corridor, “Where does this go?” she breathed.

“Staff sleeping quarters and that leads to the maintenance and storage facilities. We need to go through there. Why don’t Buffy and I carry on ahead as before?”

Willow nodded mutely.

Buffy and Elizabeth led the way down the dusty corridor.

Every fifty feet or so, a plain wooden door marked what must have been the entry to a bunk room. Buffy noticed each door had a solid looking lock. She looked up ahead and frowned. After the last bunk room door far up on the left, there was just a blank wall. “It’s a dead end!” Buffy stared at the plane white wall in confusion. “What gives?”

Elizabeth shone her flashlight over the surface of the wall carefully. Buffy watched her for a moment and then reached out her hand, made a fist and rapped on the wall. She watched in fascination as a plaster dust sparkled in the flashlight beam as it floated down towards her feet.

“It’s a mask,” said Elizabeth. She reached out her own hand towards the wall and inched her finger tips through the air over the surface of the wall. Suddenly she withdrew her hand. “It’s here.”

“What is it?” demanded Buffy.

“It’s a disguise. This place is mainly designed to keep people in, not out, but they do take some basic precautions. Here, let me show you.”

Elizabeth reached towards Buffy, lightly took her wrist and guided her hand toward the wall.

“But I just felt…”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Feel again.” As she spoke, she placed her own hand over the Slayer’s and pushed on the surface of the wall.

Buffy was shocked to see the wall contract and then spring back as she lifted her palm away. She hesitated and then replaced her hand on the surface and let it sink inwards until she felt a change in texture and then realised her hand was touching metal. “A door?”

“Which we may need some help opening.”

Buffy pulled back her hand and examined it critically.

Willow approached the wall and peered at it herself. As she drew close she felt her skin tingle and pulled back quickly. “Oh.” She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. “Buffy, it’s powerful, but it’s only a mask.” She glanced at Elizabeth before continuing, “Just close your eyes.”

Buffy thought she was joking at first, but Willow’s sincere expression did not waver. She shrugged her shoulders. “Okay then,” she muttered as she shut her eyes. This time when she reached out her hand she had no problem in immediately feeling the texture of the door. She groped downwards and grinned when she felt a metal doorknob. She gripped it and turned. It did not open. She smiled. “Okay, stand back.”

Buffy closed her eyes again, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Opening her eyes slowly she stared at the location where her hand had been, fixing it in her mind. Stepping back slightly, turning her hips away from the door, she took another deep centering breath. In a smooth flowing movement she released a spinning kick to the location of the door handle. The sound of crunching wood and sheering metal followed by a delayed crash confirmed successful contact. She smiled at the image of her horizontal thigh disappearing into the faux wall. Casually she stepped through and turned to invite the others, but then realised they wouldn’t be able to see her. “Come on through,” she called.

Willow looked at Elizabeth. “She likes to lighten the mood sometimes.”

Thin beamed flashlight light pierced the darkness of the room beyond.

“Where are we?” asked Buffy suspiciously.

“Power system,” answered Elizabeth.

Willow shone her flashlight towards the rear of the room where she saw a large, silent generator, sitting within a wire mesh cage. The cage had a door which appeared securely padlocked. She looked back at Elizabeth. “If this is the power room, why isn’t the engine running?

“This place hasn’t been active for years. Prisoners left here to die don’t need light.”

Willow swallowed nervously. “O-okay, so how do we get to where we’re going?”

Elizabeth reached out and guided Willow’s arm down until her flashlight was pointed towards a space in front of the cage, illuminating a small square hatch, fastened closed with two large deadbolts. “Every floor has its own generator.”

Willow’s quick mind supplied a probable explanation for what Elizabeth was showing her. “The power rooms of each floor are all connected?”

“That’s right,” confirmed Elizabeth.

“Huh.” Willow’s brow furrowed as she thought. “Isn’t that a security flaw? I mean, couldn’t inmates escape by coming back up and get out the way we got in?”

Elizabeth felt her right eye twitch as she studied Willow in the gloom, wondering if her young charge had figured out how she knew her way around here. It had not been necessary to share the details. It was just too long a story.

She offered Willow a re-assuring smile. “Nobody in the main complex could escape this way because there’s no way into the power system other than from the outside on the top level, the way we came in.”

Buffy turned around at this. “So how do we get to Antorwath then?”

“We have to go through the original building’s eight levels first and then into Antorwath’s enclosure on the ninth level.”

Buffy was starting to feel serious concern. “They built a whole extra level? Just for Antorwath?”

Elizabeth nodded.

Buffy didn’t like the sound of this one bit. While other parts of her mind weighed the possible dangers they might be walking into she asked, “And there’s a way from the power room on the eighth to the enclosure on the ninth level?”

“Yes that’s right.”

Willow looked up sharply at this. “If there’s a way to get in to the ninth level what’s to stop him coming after us the same way?”

“The mechanism of his internment means there is little risk of him getting beyond his cell.”

Willow wondered what to make of that but assumed she’d soon know.

Buffy’s face was resolved. “I want to get this done. Elizabeth, I guess now we’re through into here we’re unlikely to run into any more of those bizarre experiments?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No. The power system is completely separate from the main complex. Before we go down we need to prepare though.”

The Slayer raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Please sit Buffy.” She turned to face Willow. “You too my dear.”

Elizabeth lowered herself into a cross legged position and waited for Buffy and Willow to do likewise. Arranged at the vertices of a rough triangle, flashlights on the metal floor pointing inwards, Elizabeth studied the aura of her two companions.

When Willow had re-surfaced from her dimensional journey, her aura had been faint, but after a day’s rest, though mixed the colors had been vibrant and strong. Now though bright orange had given way to a muddy and altogether fainter umber. Streaks of indigo and blue still surfaced in the energy flow but overall the young witch’s glow seemed weaker. Yet she did not seem physically diminished.

Buffy was different. The Slayer was infused with a fluid vermillion energy flow that occasionally tinted towards blackness before washing back to vibrant red hues. The strength in Giles’ protégé was impressive although Elizabeth doubted she fully understood her own capability. She mused that Buffy might well understand herself better after what she was going to have to do next.

“When we get to the ninth level, we’ll need to retrieve the artefact from Antorwath, but it won’t be easy.”

“But I thought he was basically harmless while he was bound by it,” said Buffy, confused.

Elizabeth nodded. “The thing is, while that’s true there are…complications.”

Buffy sighed.

“The artefact not only absorbs energy, it’s attracted to energy. With every breath he draws power from the environment and the artefact draws closer to him to better absorb that power. Even though he can’t use it, an incredible amount of power flows through him.”

Buffy hesitated before speaking the words that her increasingly fatalistic intuition were forming in her mind. “So we have to kill him?”

“There’s really no other way. If we tried to pacify him and take it from him, as soon as he came around he’d be an unprecedented danger to the world.”

Willow shook her head angrily. “Surely, if he was made like this, he can be unmade without being killed? It doesn’t seem right. This was done to him. It wasn’t his fault.”

“Willow, your compassion is admirable, but the original boy…there’s nothing left.”

“This was done to him as a child?” asked Willow horrified.

Elizabeth nodded. “I am sorry, it’s a long and tragic story which we just don’t have time for now. We need to get ready to deal with this situation.”

Willow studied the metal flooring, mind seething with the seeming injustice in the world.

“What do I have to do?” asked Buffy.

“With the magick that runs through him, physical strength alone won’t be enough to kill him. However, there is a spell which can be used to, well the best way to describe it is it’ll allow you to channel your innate power more directly. It adds a kind of magickal after-touch to your physical power.”

Buffy pondered this. “So, you do this spell on me and then what?”

“Simple, you do what you do, but your physical assault will be, enhanced.”

Buffy glanced nervously at Willow before asking Elizabeth, “Should we be doing magick in front of Willow?”

She managed a small grin as she saw Willow give her a half-hearted withering look.

“This will be so focussed that it should not cause a problem. However,” she turned her attention to Willow, “it would be best if she keeps back from things.”

Willow got up awkwardly and backed into the shadows.

Buffy tensed. Elizabeth was easy to trust, but she didn’t know exactly what the woman was about to do. “Will this take long?”

“Not at all. Please just sit still and close your eyes. Slow your breathing as if in meditation.”

At first, Buffy found it difficult to lower her guard. Yet after a while the quiet closeness of the room and Elizabeth’s matched, quiet breathing allowed her own body to begin to relax.

Willow watched in fascination as Elizabeth eased Buffy into a state of meditation. She blinked her eyes trying to see better in the near darkness. Her lips parted in surprise as she realised the red specks she’d thought were stars from her own eyes, were actually tiny dancing whorls of Buffy’s aura.

Elizabeth began a near sub-aural chant and as she did so Buffy’s aura began to glow brighter until her whole body was surrounded by deep flaming reds and negative delineations of deep black. Despite herself, Willow was astonished at the deep well of power flowing from the Slayer. She knew Buffy understood the principle that her power had a magickal quality but that the she’d had chosen never to pursue an understanding of it, preferring to leave all things magick to her. Willow wanted to move closer, to reach out and put her hand in the flow, but she managed to check her instinct.

The guttural chant grew louder. Willow didn’t recognise the dialect although it had cadences that reminded her of the ancient demon tongues she’d imbibed. She had to trust Elizabeth knew what she was doing.

Elizabeth raised her chant further and the energy flowing around and within Buffy swelled until the light was so bright it was difficult to see the diminutive figure at the centre of the rushing flow. Suddenly Elizabeth thrust her right hand straight into the centre of the torrent. Her hand became engulfed by color and organic tendrils began to crawl over her hand and up her wrist.

Elizabeth watched the energy snake its way across her skin and smiled. She looked straight into the centre of the flames and uttered one word; “Novo!” As the words escaped her lips, she formed her hand into a fist and started to remove it from the energy. As she withdrew, the weak tendrils of red that griped her wrist seemed to pull, trying to resist her egress. She did not react with force, but breathed, focussing her own energy and extracted her hand from the flames.

As soon as her hand was free, the cadmium energy evaporated, popping and sparking in the darkness until the only remaining illumination was from the flickering flashlight. Buffy opened her eyes and looked at Elizabeth, who smiled serenely back.

“I feel…different?”

Elizabeth nodded. “You should. What do you feel?”

“It’s hard to describe.”

“Try.”

“Well, it’s a bit like I’ve just had four espressos. I feel kinda tingly like, kinda fired up.”

Elizabeth nodded. “When the time comes, just trust your instincts. You’ll know what to do.”

“So nice and obvious then.”

Elizabeth ignored the sarcastic quip.

Willow approached Buffy cautiously. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah…you?”

Willow nodded, but Buffy saw the concern and fear in her eyes. “Will, I’m good. I am ready for this thing. Whatever it is.”

Willow swallowed. “You may be. I’m not sure I am.”

Elizabeth cleared her throat. “I am sorry, but we need to get going.”

“I’ll go first,” volunteered Buffy.


***


By the fourth floor, Willow was breathing hard. A small part of her mind reflected she should have spent a bit more time at least thinking about going to the gym. However much running away they did from vampires or however vigorous the evil fighting, it just never seemed to get any easier.

Getting the rusted hatches open, even with Buffy’s Slayer strength had taken their combined effort. Below each hatchway, a ladder led into the darkness which had meant climbing slowly and carefully. Everything was rusty and they’d agreed Buffy would go down first to each floor since she was the lightest and there was less chance of the ladder breaking under her weight. Each level had seemed a long way down.

Hands on hips, breathing in lungfuls of life restoring air, Willow watched Buffy disappear confidently down the ladder towards the fifth level. Elizabeth followed, stepping onto the ladder and carefully descending each rung. Willow didn’t want to be alone in this place. She wondered what might be lurking in the shadows. As if on cue, she heard a deep groaning sound from somewhere close by, followed by a kind of laboured, rasping breathing.

In the face of panic, logic sometimes came to Willow’s rescue. She found that analytical part of her mind offering the likelihood that sound carried well through this building and what she’d heard was probably another one of the things Buffy had run into earlier. This power system they were in was segregated from the main complex where those things were wondering around, so logically they were safe in here. Although she liked her own reasoning, Willow didn’t want to hang around any longer than necessary. The logician in her head also told her that some monsters might be able to break through walls. As she saw Elizabeth’s head disappear into the darkness, she called out “Wait for me!” and began to lower herself through the hatch.


***


Abraham closed his eyes and concentrated his mind in the darkness.

Raphael. They have passed the fifth level.

Abraham waited, wondering if he’d been heard.

How?

The old Teacher, she knew a way.

What way?

There’s a series of rooms built into the fabric of the structure and a secret entrance on the top level.

Raphael paused to consider this. He wondered why he hadn’t been warned of this possibility. Surely Mr. White must have been aware this could happen. After a moment, he returned the thought; “You know what to do.”

I know, but I’ve projected through. I will only be able to physically confront them on the ninth. The part of the structure they’re in does not reconnect with the main complex until the ninth.

Do not allow them to reach their goal.

I understand.

Raphael wondered if the young acolyte was up to the task. Best of a generation supposedly. Well it wasn’t his problem if it went wrong. He hadn’t been given all the facts. Let Mr. White clean up the blood. He reached out with his mind and felt the crawling presence of the other inhabitants of the institution. Not that they’d help now. Putting them back in their cells was a waste of effort. If they didn’t kill the intruders, much easier to just let them kill each other.


***


When Willow landed her booted left foot on the rusty metal floor of the eighth level, she was breathing heavily. She held up her hands. “Time out! I need to rest a minute.”

Elizabeth looked over to her and nodded. “We need to stop here anyway. Buffy, we need to talk about how we deal with the next level.”

“Uh-huh,” replied the distracted Slayer. Elizabeth watched her inspecting the room.

Willow mustered her courage and asked, “What about me? Does ‘we’ not include me?”

“Willow I am sorry, we don’t know what we’re going to find. It would not be prudent for you to come down until we’ve ascertained it’s safe.”

Feeling inadequate and a bane on those around her, Willow managed to nod her agreement. “Okay, I guess.” She shone her flashlight around the room trying to distract herself. It was just like others. Caged power generator towards the opposite end. Small wooden tool cupboard on the left-hand wall, next to the cage. She leaned against the wall behind the ladder and stared at the quiet bulk of caged metal that used to help provide power to this place.

Breathing out, she slid down until she was seated comfortably on the floor, knees hugged close to her chest. Closing her eyes she tried to regain some composure and quell her nerves. A sudden thud and her eyes snapped wide open. It had sounded like a heavy door being closed. Except there weren’t any doors in the compact power room. Willow looked around quickly to see if Buffy or Elizabeth had heard it.

Willow found herself alone.

Standing, mind unwilling to accept she could actually be alone, she turned around, shining her flashlight into the darkness. Her eyes had been closed for only a moment, if they’d gone anywhere she would have heard. Shivering, Willow began to realise the quality of the space she was in had changed. The clammy and dust filled claustrophobia of the power system had given way to a cooler air and a somehow thicker darkness. Shining the beam of her flashlight straight ahead, she could no longer see the opposite wall of the room or the ladder. All she could see was that she was alone in the darkness.

Her heart palpitated. “Elizabeth?” She was answered only by distant, timorous echoes. A prescient acidic dread rose in her chest. She had not performed any magick, yet to move through a moment and suddenly be lost, it felt just like the dimensional transition that had taken her to that hell place underneath the streets of London. Something was still very wrong with her. The cleansing at the stones seemed long ago.

She heard the muffled stutter of a generator, followed by a metallic rattle as far above, a cluster of wire covered lights began to glare. Their glow was weak, sufficient only to light the space around her in a washed out green.

Then, rapidly approaching voices. Looking left, Willow saw an orderly emerging from the darkness, pushing a wheelchair in which sat a boy of perhaps seven, maybe eight years. His black hair lay lank across an anaemic forehead. Behind the orderly came two figures, both dressed in long white medical coats. They were conversing, gesturing occasionally towards the boy.

As they approached, Willow looked desperately for some way to conceal herself. Surely they would see her. Yet as they drew near, the boy continued to stare off into space and the doctors did not break the flow of their conversation. “Let’s lock him down for tonight. We’ll give him a shot of the new formulation in the morning.”

And then the voices were receding as they carried on deeper into the darkness. The figures seemed to fade too quickly. Something was wrong with the space here. Her heart beat faster again as she found herself alone and frightened.

“Willow?!”

Willow opened her eyes. There was a throbbing pain in the back of her head. She realised she was lying on the ground. Elizabeth was peering into her face, eyes concerned. ”W-what happened?” Willow asked.

“You collapsed.”

Willow blinked rapidly and sat up. Suddenly she remembered the little boy.

“Some kind of episode? A hallucination?” asked Elizabeth shrewdly.

Sullen, Willow looked away. “I thought they’d stopped.”

“Willow, I am sorry.”

“The voices are quiet. I don’t hear them.”

“I know dear. I’d hoped…”

Willow looked into her would-be mentor’s face and saw the usual ellipsis replaced with undisguised sympathy. “What did you hope?”

“I hoped it wouldn’t be this hard for you.”

Willow managed a small smile. “Elizabeth, please tell me.”

Elizabeth gathered herself for Willow’s reaction, “Some of the effects, some of the changes you went through are probably permanent. The amount of magick you’ve worked has weakened your connection to this world. It may no longer take the actual working of a spell to trigger an episode or a transition.” To her surprise, Willow didn’t seem at all surprised, just contemplative.

“I need a way to remember my sin.”

“Willow, we will talk about this, but right now, you need to tell me what you saw.”

Willow looked up at Elizabeth and tried to trust. “I saw a little boy.”

Shocked, Elizabeth stared at Willow, and tried to keep her voice calm as she explained, “You, saw…Willow tell me exactly did he look like?”

Willow didn’t like the tone of fear in Elizabeth’s voice. Until now she had been all confidence but now something else entirely manifested in her voice.

“Willow, what did he look like?” she re-iterated.

“He had black hair. And…”, she closed her eyes, “a wheelchair, I think he was going to have some kind of treatment. They were talking about a drug or something.”

“What made you think that?”

“There were people with him, doctors.”

Elizabeth could hardly bring herself to ask, but managed to phrase the question. “Did you hear what they were saying?”

“They said something about trying out a new ‘formulation’.”

Elizabeth’s eyes clouded and Willow thought she was going to cry. “What is it? What does it mean?”

Elizabeth rubbed her eyes, and suddenly felt very tired. She breathed in and gathered herself. “Willow that means you saw Antorwath, as a boy. The new formulation would have been the last stage of his treatment.”

“But you told us he was brought here forty something years ago. I’ve seen…other dimensions, but never other times.”

“Willow, time doesn’t run at the same speed in every dimension.”

Buffy cleared her throat. “Look I’m sorry to interrupt this, but what does any of this have to do with what we’re here for?”

Elizabeth turned to her temporary Slayer. “It just means my worst fears were confirmed for what they’ve done to him and how dangerous he is.”

“But it doesn’t change what we’ve got to do does it?” urged Buffy.

Elizabeth’s lip’s tightened. “No…no it doesn’t.”

“So it’s down there then?” asked Buffy pointing towards the last trap door.

“Down there,” came the unequivocal response.

“Okay, I go through first. You come down when I say and Willow stays here ‘til it’s definitely all clear and we need to get the artefact on her.”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Willow?”

“Huh?”

Willow had taken a step away from the trapdoor and sat down again. She’d felt a wave of sadness wash over her at the fate of the boy. It was in the past, but he’d looked innocent like he didn’t know what was being done to him. She thought about Abi and wondered if this was anything like what she’d gone through. She hardly dared think about how this sort of thing could still be happening.

Buffy repeated with forced gentleness, “Willow, do you agree?”

Willow tried to make her answer business like, not betraying the fear she felt. “Let’s get it over with.”


***


“Last time I was here, things were…busier.” Mr. White pulled a white cloth from his pocket and dabbed at a bead of sweat on his forehead.

Antorwath managed a kind of pained rasping sound in response. Despite the apparent difficulty of communication, Mr. White saw scabbed, dry lips pull into a warped, mirthless smile. As though clearly spoken, the words formed and echoed within Mr. White’s mind. “Your masters seemed to lose their appetite for what they did here.
Mr. White smiled, unperturbed. “We have to move with the times. Different politics create different ethics.”

Why are you here?

“They’re coming for you.”

Antorwath showed no fear in this remark. “You came here personally to tell me that?

“No, I came to observe our greatest achievement one last time.”

You’re proud of me? So proud you keep me hidden in here?” Although the genteel smile remained, his tone was bitter, betrayed. “You promised me so much.
“You know why you are here.” Mr. White thought he saw the gentle smile tick up into a smirk. “And like I said, times change. We have to be more subtle now, more circumspect. You were the key. The trailblazer. With you, we learned what was possible. We’re still working with the basic principles we proved with you.”

The old man appraised his prisoner. He reached out a hand and, surprised at himself, hesitated before pressing his index finger against the cloth covering the man’s chest. Through the material, he felt a tingling sensation as residual energy emanated from the artefact. “They want that.”

Antorwath’s crooked smile remained. “Yes. They are of course very welcome to have it.

“They may take it from you forcibly.”

They may.


***


Buffy pulled back the bolts on the trap door, then lifted the rusted metal handle that was recessed in the door itself. She took a firm grip, braced herself and slowly pulled back on the handle. The metal groaned but to her surprise released more easily than the previous doors had. Elizabeth said this floor had been a new addition to the building. ‘Not had as long to rust closed,’ she reasoned.

She looked around and cautioned the others with her arm. She didn’t want them anywhere near whatever may be lurking below. One hand holding the trapdoor open, Buffy carefully reached her other hand out for the flashlight that lay on the floor. Her fingers wrapped around the cold metal and she directed the beam into the hole. It was probably her imagination but the darkness seamed heavier having an almost liquid quality. The light barely penetrated, showing very little of what lay below.

“Er, Elizabeth? A little help here? I don’t really want to fight by flashlight. It kinda makes it difficult to hold a weapon!”

“No, no, of course not,” said Elizabeth as she began to rummage through the contents of her pack.

Buffy watched Elizabeth removed what looked like a good size lump of granite. “What’s that for?”

“For light.”

“You’re going to light the way with a rock? I think I’ll take my chances in the dark,” quipped the Slayer.

Elizabeth looked up at her but didn’t respond. She held the rock out before her, both hands clasped over the rough surface. After a moment, Buffy saw a reddish light emanating from beneath Elizabeth’s hands and then start to spread out and radiate from within the rock itself. When Elizabeth opened her hands, the rock was emitting a warm reddish flow from all over.

Buffy got the idea but wasn’t convinced it would be any better than flashlight. “Er…”

Elizabeth held up a hand. “Just watch.”

Elizabeth knelt by the opening to the ninth level and dropped the rock. As Buffy watched the stone fall, she saw it began to glow brighter, illuminating the space around it. The magick-lantern hit bottom about thirty feet down, throwing up dust moats that hung in the air, obscuring the bottom few rungs of the ladder in a reddish haze.

“That’s a lot further down than the previous floors,” cautioned Buffy.

“Buffy, remember your instincts. The magick will focus your power in ways that might, surprise you at first.”

The Slayer raised an eyebrow. “If it helps keep him down, I’m just going to keep on doing it.”

Elizabeth managed a nervous smile. “Okay.”

Buffy looked at Willow, offering what she hoped was a re-assuring smile. Willow smiled back and whispered, “Go.”

Buffy lowered herself until she was sitting on the edge of the trapdoor, feet dangling below. Slowly, she lowered herself through, careful to avoid catching her sword on the perimeter of the hatchway. When her feet caught purchase on the ladder below, she adjusted her stance and started to climb down.



Peering into the red mist, Buffy gingerly lowered her foot, seeking the ground. Even though she knew bottom should only be a little way down, the mist made it impossible to see the floor and she wanted to land securely. She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt her boot make contact with the ground and in one fluid movement, allowed herself to drop the rest of her weight from the ladder, landing in a fighting stance and drawing her sword.

This room was different to those above. No power generating equipment here. Just a roughly square room of stone walls, and a door. As she turned, Buffy noticed her movements sending more dust into the air, making the reddish mist swirl higher, until it almost came to her waist. She wondered about the stuff on the floor.

The only option was the door. Buffy looked up and saw Elizabeth’s concerned face way above. She did not see Willow. She turned and approached the door, trying as she went not to throw up any more dust.

The heavy oak door had a simple wrought iron handle which to Buffy’s surprise turned easily. She pushed the door open with her left hand. Again darkness. She turned, about to retrieve the light-rock, but stopped as she heard a sound come from within the room beyond. Turning her attention back into the darkness, she listened and as she strained to hear, stepped slowly back through the doorway and into the red ante room.

A point of yellow light flared in the darkness beyond. Without being certain of what she was seeing, instinctively, she stepped sideways so that whoever came in wouldn’t be able to see her. Moments later a blade slashed through the air where she’d been standing.

Buffy jumped further back and gasped when she saw her aggressor enter. Human, bald, swathed in multi-hued robes, tied tight at the waist. The thing that disturbed the Slayer was that around his bald skull was what she could only describe as a mauve colored halo of energy which swirled and flared as he moved.

His eyes tracked her movements minutely. He stood up straight. “Leave now and I won’t hurt you.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow. Given the situation and his rather intimidating appearance, she hadn’t expected to be offered an escape clause. It didn’t make any difference. “What’s the matter, afraid you can’t stop a little girl like me?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeated.

Buffy stood her ground and locked her expression with his.

“I understand, I am sorry.” As he spoke, the halo around his head flared and split into a rainbow of color. He breathed in deeply and his body seemed to shimmer and swell. As he exhaled, six shadow forms, each a different color, a translucent projection of the original, detached themselves from his body and spread out around the room.

Aware of the movement around her, Buffy kept her eyes trained on the shadow progenitor. She watched him step closer, the tip of his sword oscillating through a gentle curve as he searched for an opening in her defence.

Buffy could see that the phantom swordsmen spread out around her mirrored his movement. Despite their insubstantial appearance she assumed these shadow-men could touch her, kill her just as well as their owner. The situation felt a great deal more dangerous. Then a smile pulled at her lips. She had an advantage of her own. Although she wasn’t quite sure how it worked, she’d get to find out just exactly what it was that Elizabeth’s magick had done for her. Addressing the swords men’s sire, she asked, “What’s your name?”

“My name is Abraham.”

“Okay Abraham. I’m sorry too. You seem like a decent guy…guys…whatever.” As she spoke, Buffy drew her blade back in a wide sweeping motion and began to execute a swift leaping stride toward Abraham’s left flank, swinging the blade at his neckline as she moved. She was amazed at her own speed and further amazed that Abraham was still looking at the position where she’d been standing as she moved and her blade neared its target.

The air shimmered azure. As she seemed to move faster, his movement seemed to slow even more. She watched in fascination as he turned fearfully towards her and as realisation of what was to come dawned, he threw himself away from her in a protective manoeuvre that narrowly avoided her slash.

Then she was still. Her blade had not connected, but she was now watching Abraham crouching several feet away, watching her. The swordsmen had widened their circle and were no longer moving towards her. They did seem able to move independently of their master, but they kept their distance.

Abraham got up slowly, watching her all the time. “How did you…”

Buffy smiled as she realised that what she’d done was actually from her own innate power, just brought to the surface with Elizabeth’s assistance. “Do you still want to do this?” she asked.

Abraham’s expression hardened. “I must finish my task or die.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. How many times had she heard that? Somehow this felt wrong, but she was here for a purpose and his purpose was obviously to prevent her reaching her goal.

He let out a piercing cry as he raised his own weapon and with more than human speed moved towards and around her. As he moved his shadow selves closed in, swords raised in varying positions of attack.

Buffy shut her eyes and felt the seconds stretch out and her perception sharpen even further. She saw the room in her mind’s eye and impressionistic ghost figures gliding very slowly towards her. They moved so gradually, it was easy to evade their attacks and plot her own. She inhaled deeply and raised her sword to shoulder height. Black energy tinged with silver traced a complex locus through the air around her weapon. Her sword cut through the filmy ghost figures leaving just trails of shining gossamer hanging in the air. And then there was only him. His aura glowed a multitude of colors as he drew himself up. But she could see his intent so far ahead, a simple movement and she was before him and her final cut entered, stopping him dead.

Buffy opened her eyes and observed the still figure at her feet. Her skin tingled as the energy that had risen within her began to subside. She’d felt something like it before. At times when she’d fought for her life. In extreme moments. This was stronger, much more primal. She felt no joy at her victory. She felt little besides her own power. Standing, Buffy looked up the ladder and again saw Elizabeth’s concerned face. “You’d better get down here.”



After the commotion of the fight, the whole room, seemed a dusty chemical red. “What is that on the floor?” asked Buffy.

Elizabeth looked up from surveying the body. “Just dust Buffy, nothing more. This place hasn’t been opened for a long time.” She turned back to her consideration of the body. “There’ll be another one here. Somewhere.”

“What some kind of demoney symbiosis?” joked Buffy.

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, just standard procedure. The other one’s probably in the guard control room. We should expect trouble.”

“When’s Willow going to come down?” enquired Buffy.

“When we’ve ascertained the situation.” Elizabeth looked ahead into the dark room that lay beyond the doorway. She walked to the base of the ladder and felt around for the light-rock. After a moment, she stood up, gripping the object in her hand. She started to open her pack to replace the item.

“Won’t we need that?” asked Buffy.

“Not now that I’m here. I just wanted a way for you to see while I stayed up there with Willow.”

“You knew something like this might happen? That there might be people trying to stop us?”

“I suspected, yes.”

“Why didn’t you say?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. And I didn’t know for sure. Whoever’s here can’t be any worse than the remaining inhabitants.”

Buffy sort of saw a logic in that but still didn’t feel totally comfortable with Elizabeth’s circumspection.

“Before we go in there,” said Buffy, “I want to know one more thing.”

“Just ask,” said Elizabeth.

“If things get bad in there and I can’t do what needs to be done, will you be able to use magick to help?”

“Buffy, magick would be of little help. I could attack him with magickal energy, but the artefact would absorb most of the power before it could really effect him. Also I don’t want to be using magick around Willow any more than necessary.”

“Okay then. So no pressure.”

“Are you ready Buffy?”

The Slayer nodded.

Elizabeth looked up the ladder where she saw the worried face of a young woman who seemed so lost and whom she very much wanted to help. She smiled. “Wait for my call, Willow.”

Willow nodded, but she didn’t like sitting on her own in a nearly dark room of an ancient and creepy building, just waiting for something to happen. She played the flashlight down into the room and watched Elizabeth talking to Buffy. After a moment, Elizabeth stepped back and cast her hands wide. Willow felt the power, but it was somewhat diminished at this distance. She watched the room below fill with a warm yellow light, emanating from Elizabeth herself.

“Shall we then?” asked the Slayer.


***

TBC...

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 Post subject: Chapter 2, Part 3
PostPosted: Sun May 08, 2005 11:40 am 
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Continued…


Buffy waved her hand through the air to try to get dust away from her eyes. The room felt a lot less claustrophobic with the warm illumination Elizabeth had created. Light flooded into the doorway, breaking a sliver of yellow into the blackness of the room beyond.

As they walked toward the door, the darkness of the next room seemed to recede and Buffy realised the light was flooding gently out wherever Elizabeth moved. “How do you do that?”

Elizabeth smiled. “I just ask,” came the enigmatic response.

On the threshold, Buffy hesitated. She looked at Elizabeth one last time then, peering ahead, raised her sword and stepped through. Elizabeth followed, illuminating an impressive space. Yet Buffy could not see walls or a ceiling. Darkness tinged the surface of the warm sphere of light that surrounded them. “What the hell kind of place is this?” asked Buffy.

“It’s where they’ve interned Antorwath since his treatment. This place was built for him.

“So where is he?”

“This way, towards the back of the chamber,” said Elizabeth as she started to walk ahead of Buffy, foot steps echoing on the hard stone floor. After a minute or so of walking, Elizabeth’s light revealed a large metallic structure. A cell. As they drew closer, she saw the metal was formed into a hexagonal latticework. Elizabeth stopped a few feet from the edge. Buffy stood with her shoulder to shoulder. Her light bathed the cell in yellow warmth, revealing an unpleasant squalor.

The enclosure was big, perhaps fifty feet square and equally high. Something about the construction struck Buffy as odd. The cage was rusted but that was just like everything else here. Abruptly it struck her. There was no door. It was literally a large iron cube.

Sitting in the centre of the cage on a wooden bench was a man of indeterminate middle age. Dirtied grey cloth hung from his emaciated form. Lank strands of gray hair tumbled from the side of his pate. ‘So you’re him.’ Buffy jumped when, as if he’d heard the thought, he turned to look at her. She felt uncomfortable under his appraising gaze. Despite his dishevelled appearance his eyes were bright and his gaze penetrating. But then he shifted focus to Elizabeth and smiled. Buffy saw that his teeth were rotted and dirty.

Elizabeth Brown. I knew you’d come back.

Buffy looked from Antorwath to Elizabeth and realised that the words had formed in her own mind without the man actually speaking. She was not unfamiliar with telepathy. Sometimes when all the scoobies went into battle, Willow would take up an elevated position and use telepathic communication to help coordinate the fight.

Again, the man flicked his glance to Buffy and inclined his head slightly, lips drawing upward into a small smile of mock deference. She found she could not keep the disdain from her expression. Yet he didn’t react, he simply turned back to Elizabeth.

Buffy also turned to her companion and cleared her throat. “You know him? You never said you knew him.”

Elizabeth and I used to be friends.

Before Buffy could ask the meaning of that particular statement, Elizabeth countered; “I don’t think friendship is the way most people would describe our relationship.”

Antorwath nodded, smiling genially. “But you’ve done so much for me, made me the way I am, given me all I have.” He gestured expansively to his torn clothes and austere surroundings.

Elizabeth didn’t answer, she just watched the animus in his face and waited.

He went on, “No, no perhaps you’re right. Perhaps, let’s see…perhaps doctor and patient would be a better way to describe our relationship?” His smile widened as he saw the pain flicker across Elizabeth’s expression.

Buffy took half a step away from Elizabeth, realising there was much more to this than she knew. She wanted to ask but now was not the time for a confessional. She watched Elizabeth and then allowed her glance to travel across to her interlocutor. Her sharp eyes picked up the small bulge under his shirt.

Elizabeth composed herself, effecting an air of moderate disdain for his words. “Anthony, I tried to help you. Some part of you knows that.”

Antorwath looked away at the sound of the name. “Nobody’s called me that for a long time. I can’t even say it anymore. My voice doesn’t work well. I can only manage the name they call me now.

Elizabeth’s expression was unrepentant. “I wasn’t responsible for what they did to you. I didn’t make you what you are.”

Again his gaze was on her, “But what they wrought…me, all the pathetic creatures in this place! It was your research that showed them the way. To get what they wanted, it was just a case of doing enough experiments. Except enough was never enough.”

Elizabeth averted her own gaze. “I know that…but Anthony, you still had free will. You did not have to follow their orders so…willingly or with such vigour. You took on the mantle of what they christened you Anthony.”

No…you’re right, I did do what they said. I enjoyed the power.

Elizabeth could barely restrain her emotions at the knowledge of what she’d helped create.

Anthony is dead now. He is past.

“Then do you know why I am here?”

Antorwath ripped his shirt open with one hand. Buffy was sickened to see that the protrusion she’d spotted earlier was the tip of a small black rock buried deep in his flesh and surrounded by darkened veins that even now she could see throbbed grotesquely as the artefact absorbed his power.

I know what you want. You want this.” He indicated the artefact. “You need this for her.

Elizabeth felt wheels turning in her mind and didn’t like the thoughts they were forming. “I see you are not completely devoid of power,” she intoned.

I’ve had years to understand the nature of my imprisonment. Little things like foresight come easily enough.” As he spoke, he looked down at his chest and caressed the artefact buried in his flesh. Elizabeth saw the tip of his finger begin to blacken as he ran it over the surface of the rock. “This thing prevents me from exercising my power, but it does not retard my perception. I felt her when her power arose. It was…almost blinding.

He looked back up at her and smiled. “You should be careful, you may have found someone even more dangerous than me.” Antorwath stood. He approached the wall of the cage and threaded his rough hewn fingers through the metal, staring at her intently.

Elizabeth looked away. Then she turned to Buffy. “You know what you have to do.”

The Slayer nodded as she focussed her attention on the cage.

Antorwath smiled. “I’ve waited for this day.

Buffy gritted her teeth, raised her sword and swung with all her might towards the cage. Moments later, a crash and a large curved slab of rusted iron lay on the floor in front of the cell. Where the metal had been, a large hole gaped back at them. Buffy was still, breathing hard, her sword by her side.

Antorwath had stepped back and stood his ground in the centre of the cage. Buffy stepped through the opening and moved slowly towards him. His gaze followed her, a slight smile playing at the corner of his lips. He made no move to defend himself.

As she raised her sword, he intoned, “The witch is powerful. The world will change around her.

“Is that so?” said Buffy as she lifted her sword again. Just as before, she felt the world around her slow. With detached precision and total confidence of victory her weapon swept through the air in a movement that could only result in separating her enemy’s body from its head.

Yet the blade did not connect. Instead a howling whirlwind blew up from nowhere causing her to stagger backwards, struggling to maintain her balance. Centred on Antorwath, the wind whipped at his impassive features as he looked up to the top of the growing twister. Dark particulates began to form in the wind, quickly thickening the twisting funnel of air into a smoky pall through which the skinny figure of Antorwath could only just be seen.

The blackening air stung her eyes and Buffy dropped her sword and raised her arm to her face, trying to protect her eyes. She couldn’t tell where Elizabeth was, all she could do was back up to where she thought the edge of the cage lay, feeling for the hole through which she’d entered. As she felt the metal against her, everything changed. The wind was gone as was the bleak ninth level of the place that used to be a so called hospital. Buffy knew what she was seeing wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

She was in Sunnydale, under a clear blue morning sky. Up ahead she could see the Magic Box. Standing in the doorway, Giles gave her a welcoming smile as he turned the shop sign from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’. Warmth bloomed in her as he smiled back. The training session this morning promised hard work, but would she knew be rewarding. The recent weeks had been testing, but as Giles had worked her through his newest training program, she’d seen tangible improvements in her skills and focus. And word had clearly spread. Vampires were starting to run away rather than engage her. The world felt in balance and it was partly due to her.

She strolled up to the shop door and entered. Panic and confusion flooded her mind at the sight that greeted her. The well kempt store front gave way to burnt destruction on the interior. Part of the first floor ceiling had caved in, rubble and splintered wood lay strewn across the once well cared for shop floor. The place reeked of smoke. Then she saw Giles, bloodied body lying within the rubble. Panic started to rise within her rose like bile. Yet, some deeper awareness made her stop and take more careful stock of where she was and what she was seeing. She looked slowly around the shop again and then back out the door. Realisation dawned. What she was seeing was what Willow had wrought in her desperate confused search for revenge. Seeing her mentor near death burned Buffy’s heart like nothing else she’d experienced, yet she knew that he had survived.

Stepping back, lifting her feet over fallen masonry, Buffy exited the shop. The pleasant morning sunshine was gone, replaced by night and an oppressive humidity. The streets were deserted. Buffy tried to remember what she was doing here and as she concentrated her mind gained further clarity.

The world inside the shop hadn’t been real. Buffy closed her eyes and concentrated. The destruction of the Magic Box had been weeks before. Anya was already planning how to rebuild the shop with the money she’d extorted from the recalcitrant insurance company. Giles had survived. She’d spoken to him just hours ago. On the way to help Willow. To help retrieve an artefact from a monster…

Buffy opened her eyes and was greeted by the sight of Antorwath, standing where she now remembered he had been, in the centre of his cell. The wind had gone, it just felt unpleasantly warm. She could see perspiration running down his cheeks. His eyes snapped open and he looked at her in surprise.

You’re different,” he stuttered.

“Different? Hmm. Maybe,” mused Buffy feigning companionable curiosity. “Perhaps it had something to do with a little magick my friend Elizabeth used earlier to help me understand my own gifts better?”

What exactly are you?

“Oh, just your regular, every day Vampire Slayer, sister, friend…and all round good-guy, girl, whatever.”

You’re too powerful to be of the Slayer line…

“Is that so?”

You have such darkness in you.

Buffy laughed dismissively. “That? Yeah well I know about that. It doesn’t make me evil.”

The tone of his voice dropped. “No, but it means you can be…bad.

Buffy did not have a ready retort this time.

It means you can do things you wouldn’t want to tell people about. Keep secrets, use others, let people die, kill without mercy…

Buffy felt shame. She’d done so many things on instinct or in selfish need. She’d not been sensitive to the needs of those around her. Willow had gone completely off the rails and she’d not stopped it. But that was because…what Willow had done to her, pulling her out of heaven or wherever had hurt like nothing she could describe. Anyone would have reacted the same way, except, she wasn’t supposed to be just anyone, she was supposed to be strong, to understand. Yet she didn’t understand. She hadn’t understood when her father had left. She’d been left wounded and bewildered when cancer took her mother, leaving her to cope on her own. Her failure to deal with Warren had resulted in Tara’s tragic death and the chain of events that had nearly destroyed Willow and the whole world. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she realised her complete and utter inadequacy. She had no right holding the mantle of Slayer. A true warrior of the people shouldn’t be like this, wouldn’t have let these things happen. She knew what needed to be done.

With a look of grim determination, she reached for her sword. It was hard to see here, the light was so weak and her eyes were so tired. Falling to her knees, she searched for the steel weapon that could end her pain and give the world a true saviour. As her fingers grazed the sword’s grip, she felt a jolt run through her. White energy, shocking her, shaking darkness from her mind and clearing her vision. Her hand looked pristine white as she examined it for burns. She eyed the weapon, almost expecting it to react under her gaze. Elizabeth’s sword clearly possessed qualities other than just the metallic.

Buffy grasped the weapon and stood up, locking eyes with Antorwath. “No more games. This is over. Now.” With one powerful movement she swung her blade. He did not flinch.

Then there was just the faint echo of a cry and dust. With the enhanced perception she now had access to, Buffy saw the aretefact within the slowly falling motes. She reached out her hand and plucked it from the air. At that moment, the world sped up again and she was left standing over the remains a crumbled body. “Just like a vamp,” she mused.

“We can talk about that later. Right now we need to get that on Willow and then get out of this place.” Elizabeth was already running towards the door through which they’d come. Buffy hesitated, before swiftly following. Questions could come later.

Willow heard the noise below her and her heart raced. She didn’t know if they’d been successful or not. She peered tentatively down below and was rewarded with the sight of Elizabeth. For someone of her seemingly advanced years, Elizabeth moved with surprising speed as she jogged into the room and jumped straight onto the second rung of the ladder. As Elizabeth started to climb, Willow saw Buffy enter the room and follow quickly.

Yellow light still emanated from the space around Elizabeth and shot upwards throwing a warm shaft of light into the eighth level room where Willow sat. She felt her body respond to the residual power in the magickally induced light. Stepping back from the edge of the hole, she waited for Elizabeth to emerge. As their guide came up through the trap door, she threw Willow a quick smile and then proceeded to climb out and wait pensively for the Slayer who appeared moments later.

Willow couldn’t stop the words from coming out; “Did it work?”

Elizabeth nodded. At that Willow felt her stomach tighten in fear and anticipation of what was about to happen. She somehow hadn’t quite believed it would get to this. There had been so much to overcome and suddenly they were here. When she saw Buffy’s head pop out from the trap door hatch she tried to smile.

Without ceremony, Elizabeth turned to the Slayer and asked, “Buffy, the artefact please?” She held out her hand for the item which Buffy gripped protectively in her hand. Buffy took one look at the rock in her hand and passed it, chain and all to Elizabeth.

Willow saw the artefact and was surprised. It didn’t seem to give off any magickal energy that she could feel. She didn’t feel anything from it at all.

“Willow, please don’t be afraid. We must do this now and then get out of here, there may be others coming for us.”

Willow nodded. “Will it hurt?”

Elizabeth approached her, opening the artefact’s thin, tarnished silver chain. “It shouldn’t hurt too much since we’ve emptied your system for now. It’s only if you continue to accumulate dark intent that the removal process will be painful to you. The artefact absorbs and is attracted to dark magick.”

Understanding, Willow nodded.

Elizabeth went on, “That’s why we must start your magickal re-training. If we begin to weaken your instinct to rely on darkness in times of crisis then your body will no longer respond and the artefact will not hurt you.”

Again Willow nodded. “Okay.”

Elizabeth reached around Willow’s head and placed the chain around her neck. She hesitated before allowing the artefact to rest against the smooth freckled white skin of its new prisoner’s chest. She stepped back watching Willow for any sign of reaction.

Willow paused, breathing. “I don’t really feel…”

“What? Willow, are you alright?” asked Elizabeth.

No answer.

Elizabeth stepped closer and peered into Willow’s eyes.

Sensing her concern, Buffy asked, “What is it? What’s happening? Is it not working?”

“No, I think it is working,” said Elizabeth.

“Willow?” asked Buffy, looking for any kind of response. When no response came, she turned to Elizabeth. “Why isn’t she answering?”

“I think her mind’s eye is distracted.”

Buffy looked edgily up at the way out. “Look, you said yourself, it’s dangerous here, we need to get out.”

“I know, but if we try to snap her out of this right this instant, it could hurt her. I think it’s the effect of the magick she’s accumulated since the stones flowing through her and out into the artefact.”

Buffy tightened her lips. “So okay, let’s give her a minute, but if she’s not out of it by then, I’m carrying her out.”


***


Raphael turned to face his companion at the opposite side of the viewing portal in the guard chamber. “Mr. White?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked, should I stop them? Once they get to the surface it will be more difficult to keep them contained.”

“No, Raphael, events will follow a new course. Let them be for now.”

“What about him? Should we do something?”

Mr. White studied Raphael, before answering. “Just make sure the old power system is sealed up so nobody else can get in there.”

“Yes Mr. White.”


***


Sitting among the old apple trees, Willow felt a peace that had eluded her for what felt like a long time. The sun felt warm and comforting, the grass soft and inviting. The trees were overflowing with white and cream, sweet smelling blossom. She smiled as a vividly colored butterfly fluttered across her line of sight, homing in on an untouched flower.

Unlike the last time, some part of her consciousness knew she was not quite where she was supposed to be. The site where the sanatorium had been built could have been left untouched. Could have been like this.

Another butterfly tumbled lazily down from a bough and hovered briefly in the air in front of her, before flying towards another flower. As she looked around she realised there were butterflies everywhere. Different shapes, sizes and colors, hovering in the grass, tending the flowers or parading their colors through the warm morning sun.

Willow sat very still. A distant sound sent a cloud of young butterflies up into the air and before she knew it there were hundreds of pairs of painted wings flapping around the centre of the orchard clearing before her. More butterflies seemed to descend from the trees, joining the cloud, creating a swarm. The noise of beating wings became louder, chaotic and then all of a sudden changed, as if tuned by an unseen hand, the sound became a constant drone.

And as the sound changed, the chaotic swarm began to change. A mass of delicate wings began to resolve into a shape. Into a face. Willow swallowed hard as she realised what impressionistic image was forming before her. Though she didn’t understand how, as the droning faded still further, the beating of wings became more rhythmic and the image was thrown into sharp, organic focus.

Tears welled as she watched Tara’s kind face hanging in the air before her. Ten thousand wings gave her face and so near lifelike quality that Willow wanted to reach out her hand, but she dared not do anything to perturb the air. She couldn’t even bring herself to speak.

She watched in fascination. Tara smiled at her and as the corners of her lips lifted into the familiar half smile, her eyes seemed to sparkle as she gazed at Willow.

Then it was as if a shadow had been thrown across Tara’s face and she was no longer smiling, she was looking away and her face darkened. The drone became dissonant and grew in volume. Wings that had held perfect rhythm and movement suddenly changed. Color started to fade from the image as it slowly dissolved and darkened. As the visage lost cohesion, Willow could pick out individual butterflies and she realised that each one had color on one side of its wings and was completely black on the other side.

Moments later everything faded and Willow shut her eyes as the throbbing in her head grew deeper and more painful.


“Will?” Buffy looked for any kind of response.

Willow opened her eyes and found herself facing a concerned looking Slayer and a worried Elizabeth.

“Is it okay? Does it hurt?” asked Buffy.

Absently, Willow reached up to touch the chain around her neck. “N-no, it doesn’t hurt.” The memory of the vision persisted in her mind’s eye. She’d seen Tara, but didn’t know what it meant. Maybe the dissociation from reality didn’t only happen when she was full of power. Time, the need for time and peace to think this thing through was all Willow could focus on.

“Willow? Was it another episode?”

Disoriented and confused, Willow looked into concerned eyes. “Er, yeah, I guess.”

“We need to get out of here,” urged Elizabeth.

At that Willow straightened up. “Yeah we do.”


End of Chapter Two

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Sun May 08, 2005 12:42 pm 
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What a cruel trials. What now? Continue soon


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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Mon May 09, 2005 12:40 am 
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simply amazing


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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Wed May 11, 2005 5:59 pm 
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This is a deliciously complex story. I’ll admit I don’t really trust Elizabeth. I find myself questioning her motives, her rational. She comes off as too perfect. I have the feeling that Willow’s following her because she sees no alternative, no other course of action. And, there very well not be, especially if Willow wishes to stay in Giles and the other Scoobies’ good graces.

I think it’s a little too early for me to make predictions. However, I know everything is not as it seems. I don’t really think that necklace will be the all-powerful solution as Elizabeth hopes…It’s too soon in the story.

In my own stories, I tend to believe magick was never Willow’s real problem. Her problem was that she never had a fixed system of checks and balances for how she applied and used magick – for some people, a religion. Her problem was that she did what was needed when it was needed. Her problem was her own insecurity, desire to belong and be useful. In and of themselves, these are not necessarily bad things, however when living the Scooby life, these characteristics quickly become dangerous and twist in onto themselves and each other.

And I may be reading too far into it. These are just a few loose thoughts I had after reading the latest update. I have enjoyed your tale thus far and look forward to more.

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Sat May 14, 2005 3:05 am 
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ladydameon wrote:
In my own stories, I tend to believe magick was never Willow’s real problem. Her problem was that she never had a fixed system of checks and balances for how she applied and used magick – for some people, a religion. Her problem was that she did what was needed when it was needed. Her problem was her own insecurity, desire to belong and be useful. In and of themselves, these are not necessarily bad things, however when living the Scooby life, these characteristics quickly become dangerous and twist in onto themselves and each other.

I couldn't agree more. I can't help but feel these things need to be properly explored in order to do Willow's state of mind justice.

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Last edited by raspberryhat on Sun Jul 15, 2012 8:40 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Sat May 14, 2005 9:44 am 
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I don't trust Elizabeth. I've probably said this before, but it's getting worse. She never gives straight-forward answers, witholds information and worst of all she pushes people into directions. I myself react badly to such pushy tactics which Elizabeth employs, I wouldn't been anywhere near that asylum based on her flimsy motivation. (it doesn't help that I don't really see Willow as being any form of threat to anyone at the moment -- no WMD ==> no need for speedy war... oops :))

The entire case for killing Anthony is extremely shaky. For starters why wasn't he killed years before ? You really don't need Buffy for that, a simple lethal gas would do nicely. Same question for the remaining inhabitants by the way, it just doesn't make sense to leave so much evidence and trouble behind.

Elizabeth keeps mentioning that they need to hurry, but WHY is that? There is no need to hurry before they enter the asylum, which is an action they decide for themselves. I have the impression that Elizabeth is using the must-hurry (act now, sounds familiar?) to surpress properly thinking through what they are doing.

As was demonstrated mr. A still has some magic powers, even when the artifact was still on him. Given that Willow is at least as powerfull if not more... that will make the artifact a bit useless for the intended effect wont it ?

I would like more information about Abby, for starters.. who/what did the forcing of dark magics into such young girl? Sounds an awfull lot like a long since closed asylum, hmm....

I like her cat :lol.

Why did Mr. White object so much against anybody killing Anthony ? It is clear that there was hardly any danger of him escaping with his powers intact, so what was the worry?

I do hope both Buffy and Willow will stop and take time to think things through. When asking questions, make sure you get an answer to the question you asked! If needed, re-ask the question... and trust me, with Elizabeth it IS needed. Be persistent.

I think the point of me distrusting Elizabeth has come across by now ? :lol.

Just one more than; Willow had some sort of flashback to young Anthony being wheeled to his room. She even recalled what the docters said, something a new forumula. From the description I would guess Anthony was fairly normal at that time. So how come Elizanbeth reacted to what the docters said ?

The fights were eloborately described, esp. the ghostly fighter person. Trouble was (for me at least) that I was reasonably sure Buffy would defeat him without much trouble. Power-up slayer, easy enough :). I had the impression there were at least two guardians, guess the other one fled cowardly :lol (yeah I know that one was with mr. White but how/when that happened I'm not to sure about).

You do like posting long updates don't you ??? :lol

I wonder what Willow thinks about all this, once she has sufficient time to proces it all. Most of this chapter was action, pushed forward by our dear Elizabeth. Will Buffy really be back in the US in a week you think ?

Enough for now, I'll probably re-read this sometime to see if I missed anything (thats the disadvantage of large updates, I tend to read them to quickly... impatient me:))

Grimmy

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Sat May 14, 2005 10:26 am 
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Thank you for reading.

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Sat May 14, 2005 12:32 pm 
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I just wanted to reiterate how much I'm enjoying this journey. I see a lot of readers have a general distrust of Elizabeth. I think that reaction owes to your wonderful storytelling. You've created such a well-rounded character, that you've got many readers thinking. Having the benefit of seeing the outline, I know many questions raised by this chapter will eventually be answered. It's interesting to see your readers wondering at what they may preceive as plot holes. Again, I see that as your wonderful storytelling at work. It's compelling. If we could turn pages, we would. The reader wants to know more and more. They want their questions answered. I have had the priviledge of seeing this chapter from it's first draft to it's last and I know what a tremendous amount of hard work went into it. Pat yourself on the back, raspberryhat! It's a terrific ride you're taking us on thus far. I can't wait for more!!

:-D

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Sat May 14, 2005 12:39 pm 
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This is a very interesting story.

The hospital where they were doing magical experiments was rather unnerving. I wonder how deeply Elizabeth was involved in it all. I get the impression she thought she had been brought on to treat people using magic, but that they actually wanted her to help develop their technigues for magical mutations. What they've produced seems to be a bit like a magical version of the T virus (from resident evil)

I also wonder if those two creatures from the start, and the club Willow went to are in anyway connected to the hospital.

I'm guessing that Mr White didn't want Elizabeth to try to get the artifact because he didn't think she'd be able to kill Anthony, and that after she got the artifact he'd be let on the loose with all of his powers. Though he might have more sinister reasons.

Now Willow has the artifact I take it it's just a matter of helping her restore her balnce so when she starts acting like a magical sponge again she won't just start asorbing dark magic. Though when that happens they won't need the artifact, so what'll they do with it.

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Sun May 15, 2005 8:37 am 
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This is an evil story, keep re-thinking parts of it :)

For some reason it bothers me that Elizabeth's main power is using/reflection other people's power. She seems to have some innate power though, which is good. I don't know... just not comfortable with someone who mainly uses other people's power and whom I don't trust much, being around Willow... could be me being paranoid again of course :)

I can just imagine raspberryhat grinning evilly while viewing the readers' confusion about certain events. For some reason it's very easy to imagine that... yip.

The entire Anthony-with-artifact vs. Buffy still strikes me as almost an execution, with that artifact in place there was very little he could do. It doesn't help we don't know what evils Anthony did before getting trapped with that artifact (that might have made me more sympathetic to the idea of killing him. As it is. it's closer to "Buffy wanting to kill Faith to save Angel" (S3) sort of thing, if that made sense). Come to think of it, I'm not even sure I trust that artifact itself. Look what became of Anthony, he didn't exactly improve over time now did he?

Mr.White somehow makes me think about other villains in movies who wanted to create an army of superpowered soldiers. That always goes wrong, so I guess Mr. White go lucky there :lol.

Didn't Elizabeth say something about that artifact also attracting power ? Wonder how that's going to work out for Willow. Just get the hell out of that spooky asylum, it's not a healthy environment for anyone.

I've found no gaping plotholes yet by the way :) Just wondering why Willow (who is quite smart and wants to understand stuff) is so accepting of anything Elizabeth says.

P.S. Are the surroundings really that bleak in the UK ?? :lol

P.P.S. Evil story, makes me write way to long messages :wave

grimmy

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Wed May 18, 2005 6:03 am 
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Jeez, that place was super creepy! It's terrible all of the things that went on there. Nice to see Buffy's appearance; she came, she saw, she kicked ass.:-D Abigail is an interesting character, maybe she can help Willow having gone through a similiar experience as well. Looking forward to what's next!


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 Post subject: Chapter Three
PostPosted: Tue Oct 25, 2005 4:00 pm 
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Through a Glass, Darkly

Ante Mezzanine (Chapter 3 of ?)

By Raspberryhat


Disclaimer: BtVS does not belong to me.
Background: Everything up to the end of Season Six happened as per canon.
Spoliers: Season three through six.
Distribution: Please ask me first if you’d like to distribute this.
Classification: This part of the story is rated PG-13.
Feedback: Feedback is appreciated, but please be gentle.
Draft: 2.0/ Oct 25th, 2005.


***



“Lifting the Veil” is one of several names given to the transition through which the corporeal world falls away, revealing to the Soul facet a path to the whole Soul. Following the path and joining with the Souls of all those other lives is the completion of the process. However, even after joining, the Soul continues to ascend its own understanding, coming ever closer to the Goddess.

Finally, after months of methodical research, Tara had found a definition of the much referred to, variedly named and superficially polymorphous concept. It didn’t help. No matter how many times she re-read the text, she could not make sense of how it fitted with everything else she’d learned.

Her search for knowledge of the earliest roots of Wiccan practice had been frustrating and difficult. The pre-history was clouded with contradiction and rumor. Time and method had nevertheless begun to reveal elements of the history, each seeming logical in their own right and some even consistent with her own beliefs. This particular line of investigation had yielded startling results, filling in many gaps and offering a tantalizing and surprising glimpse of the era.

Tara looked up from the heavy tome and saw that once again she was alone. Here, immersed in a book, she could disconnect. She would normally enjoy the feeling of centered calm on emerging from a period of intense study to find she was the only one left in the building. This time though, she just felt frustrated and confused.

Once she’d come here regularly. Seated in her favorite spot, surrounded by books left haphazardly on tables or stacked casually on trolleys, Tara could feel very safe. Yet since taking a permanent post at the University, her need to visit here had been diminished. For her latest project though, the academic system had presented delays. Feeling she’d caught a glimpse of something significant and not wanting to wait, she’d sought other ways to satiate her desire for deeper knowledge.

Tara had come back to this quaint old collection with little real expectation of finding anything. The search gave her hope though. To her surprise and subsequent excitement she had found references. Quickly she had located the works she needed and settled herself to read. What she found, however, did not shed the illumination she had hoped for.

The rain streaked sash windows of the old-town library diffused the late afternoon Sun, filling the first floor reading room with a deep amber glow. She checked her battered Timex. The library would be closing soon. Accepting she was not going to find answers today, Tara began to gather the books she’d checked-out and carefully slide them into her cloth shoulder bag. Standing, she glanced around before shouldering her bag and heading towards the exit. As she picked her way through the tables towards the stairs, she allowed the tips of her fingers to glide over the surface of the tables, leaving delicate perturbations in the dust.

Standing on the deserted sidewalk in front of the library, Tara looked across the rain soaked street to the bus-stop and beyond to the misted windows of the small independent coffee shop. Frequented by academics and locals alike, the place always provided a pleasant way to relax after long periods of study. She checked her watch again. As she looked back over to the shop, her stomach growled. She grimaced and furrowed her brow, hunger conflicting with the need to catch the next bus back up to campus.

“Hey!”

Surprised, Tara spun to face the owner of the voice. “B-buffy? Where did—I mean, I didn’t see you.”

The petite twenty-something raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you the jumpy one.”

Tara smiled apologetically. “Sorry. Head still in the books.”

Buffy carried on, oblivious to her friend’s distraction. “I was just in town shopping.” She twizzled the string handle of a stiff sided, glossy store bag. Tara could see it bore the stylized hallmark of some upscale boutique. Buffy seemed distracted but just as Tara was about to politely ask what her friend had bought, she continued, “And I thought I’d see if you were done at the library. Which I see you are. Wanna get something to eat?”

Tara’s brow furrowed again. She wished she hadn’t told Buffy her plans. With the anti-climax of her afternoon’s work, she really wanted to get up to campus and continue her research, looking into areas the University library was eminently better able to facilitate than the town library’s eclectic but essentially small collection. Apologetically, she began, “I really need to…”

Buffy cut her off. “Professor Maclay,” Buffy sounded out the honorific for emphasis, “you’ve been reading solidly for the last nine years. You’re the most respected and youngest Professor at UC Sunnydale. I know the University library stays open til 11.30pm now because that’s where I find you if you’re not home.” She put her hands on her hips. “Surely you can manage a couple hours out of your schedule for dinner with your best friend?”

Tara decided against arguing. Besides, dinner sounded good right now and she could use some light relief after hours puzzling over the books. She offered Buffy a lopsided grin. “Okay.”

“Good. You’ll like this place. It’s kind of you.”

Tara raised an eyebrow. “Me?”. Mild concern mixed with curiosity of what Buffy might feel was to her taste. Tara wondered what she was getting herself into. Buffy had grown a lot since graduation. The world of work, which had eventually come her way, had introduced her to people and experiences which had shaped her friend into a complex and interesting woman. A good friend. While Buffy was still very much the Chosen One, the almost thirty year old Slayer was far removed from the single minded zealot Tara remembered from the early days.


***



Tara looked around uneasily and was careful to keep close to Buffy who strolled confidently through the deserted and rundown streets beyond which lay the lower docks. Though Tara had never ventured here herself, her studies had led her deep into the history of human activity around the Hellmouth. Once a bustling inlet and trading hub, time had seen merchant shipping attracted north to the much larger ports, capable of offering more diverse trading opportunities. Life had migrated away. This part of town was best avoided by anybody who wasn’t fully able to take care of themselves. The denizens of the night presided now and it was wise not to risk the twilight. Despite being with the Slayer, Tara felt nervous. “Buffy, where exactly is this place?”

“Not much further. Just there in fact.” Buffy pointed towards the end of the street.

Tara followed her friend’s gaze. She couldn’t see where Buffy was pointing. “Where exactly?”

Buffy smiled. “Come on, you’ll see.”

Minutes later Buffy stopped them in front of what, from a distance, had looked like an abandoned chandler or some other business once vital to the commerce of the region. Up close, Tara found she was in fact standing before an immaculate but very discreetly decorated store front. The woodwork was painted matte black and heavy crimson curtains occluded any view of the interior.




Closing the door behind them, Tara allowed her attention to wander while Buffy stood before the narrow counter set just a few feet beyond the front door and spoke with a waiter. The air was heavy; warm and infused with the scents of exotic cooking. The only light was from candles set in the centre of each table.

Buffy turned back from the counter. “Come on, we’ve got my usual table.”

Tara raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Usual? You come here often?”

“Oh sometimes.” Buffy led Tara across the flagstones, towards the end of a row of booths.

Tara deferred to Buffy, allowing her to enter their booth first and get comfortable before settling herself. She dropped her bag next to her and pushed it towards the end of the comfortable bench seat.

Seconds later a waiter appeared. His attention was entirely focused on Buffy. As she looked up, the waiter’s expression seemed to come alive. “Bull’s Blood Madam?”

A small nod. “I think so.”

“Thank-you Madam.” The waiter departed.

Tara was staring at Buffy in surprise.

“What?”

“Er. Nothing, just, well you seem very at home here.”

Buffy busied herself with her purse. “Oh they love me here.”

Moments later, large wine glasses were being set before them and perfunctorily filled with deep red libation.

Buffy lifted her glass. “To…quiet times?”

Tara nodded. She was seeing a side of Buffy that she wasn’t even sure she’d known existed. ‘Sophisticated Buffy?’ She still thought she saw a flicker of something else, behind the smile. Fear? “Quiet times,” she agreed.

Replacing her glass on the table, Buffy fixed Tara with an expression Tara couldn’t quite interpret.

“So what were you reading that’s got you so entranced?”

“Sorry?”

“What were you reading? Earlier, you said you still had your head in the books and that you wanted to go check something out at the university. Sounded urgent.”

Tara never really thought Buffy paid much attention when she talked about her work and for that reason she rarely talked about her researches in any detail. She took a breath, thinking about how to best explain. “Well, you see, the thing is I’ve been researching Wiccan pre-history and in particular, beliefs about spirit life.”

“Re-incarnation?”

Tara raised an eyebrow, surprised at her friend’s insight. “Well, it’s related. I’ve been studying pagan beliefs about what happens to the Soul when the body dies.”

“And what does happen?”

Tara smiled. She enjoyed Buffy’s direct approach. “Well that’s the hard part. There are different beliefs. You know? Every religion has a different take. I’ve just been looking at certain pagan beliefs and finding many permutations. But recently, I’ve been able to start to knit together a basic set of common principles. Most variations look different on the surface, or even far beneath the surface. But there are common elements.”

“So you’re building like some kind of grand theory of everything? Telling everyone that all their beliefs are actually the same? That’s going to be popular!”

Tara laughed. “No, not everything and not so grand. But you’re right, taken to its logical extreme and applied to every religion, it would probably be controversial. I’m not going that far though. I’m only looking at the basis of Wicca itself which is not exactly that well known and is certainly misunderstood by many. I’m just trying to see the picture as it’s developed over the ages. The trouble is--”

Buffy held up a hand. “Trouble is, you can’t get through a subject like this on an empty stomach. Let’s order.”

Momentarily frustrated at being interrupted as she was warming to her subject, Tara managed a grin. “You’re right.” She was fascinated at Buffy’s command of herself and comfort in a place that she never would have thought the woman she’d always seen as so happy-go-lucky, her less encumbered self, would be seen in.




“So okay, you were saying you’ve been trying to fit all the different beliefs about life after death together.”

Tara nodded, “Well yes, trying to dig to the underlying ideas. It’s difficult. Different beliefs rise and fall and the new beliefs can sometimes…aggressively replace the old.”

“And so what’s the big deal with today then? You found something important?”

Tara nodded again. “Well I’ve found that to get a defining view on a belief, you have to track it from inception. That’s very difficult as written records are patchy at best and often produced way after the fact so there is a degree of interpretation. Sometimes nothing recent exists at all so you have to try and work out when to stop searching and take what you’ve got as the definitive view.”

“I suppose some beliefs just die.”

“I don’t think belief ever truly dies,” mused Tara, “Things have a way of re-emerging.”

“I guess...What do you believe about life after death?”

Tara thought about that. She was about to begin to form an answer when the waiter appeared, picked up the bottle and proceeded to top off their glasses.


***



Tara opened her eyes and immediately closed them again. The morning sunshine was painfully bright. For some reason her bedroom curtains were still open. More carefully this time, blinking rapidly, she opened her eyes. She sat up in bed and as she did so, blew a lock of ash blonde hair from her eyes. Pain reared in her temple. She had a headache. And her mouth was dry. In fact she felt extremely dehydrated. She pushed away tangled blankets and stumbled out of bed.

She turned on the bathroom light and then immediately scrabbled for the switch to turn it off again. The light hurt her eyes. ‘Is this a hangover?’ Then memory. A restaurant. Buffy taking a highly unusual level of interest in her work. And wine. A lot of wine. Not something she was used to. Unsteadily, Tara leaned on the sink and peered at herself in the mirror. She didn’t like the look of the person staring back.

Memory unfolded as she went slowly about her morning ritual. She’d seen an unfamiliar side of Buffy and of herself. Where on Earth had she been taken? Pleasant emotions surfaced readily but details remained hazy. Suddenly she remembered the paintings. One in each booth. The lighting had been on the darker side of what modern interior designers liked to call ‘ambient’. She’d only cursorily glanced at the pictures, assuming them second rate prints. Yet curiosity nagged at her and drove growing frustration at the effort of trying to decipher indistinct memory.

Swiftly, she turned from the open wardrobe. She realized she’d been standing in reverie for several minutes. Tara strode back out the bedroom and into the central living area which housed among other things an extensive collection of art history books. Just as she was reaching for a particular slim volume that lay flat across the tops of a number of thicker books, the door bell chimed.




“Buffy?!”

“Hi!”

“Er, Hi, er…what are you doing here?” Tara found all thought of art history eclipsed by the surprise at seeing her friend at her front door in the morning? Buffy’s sometimes endearing and occasionally annoying habit was to appear at her door, close to midnight, not at all sleepy and wanting to talk. ‘Oh to have super power and be able to work on a few hours sleep,’ Tara thought.

“Bringing you breakfast sleepyhead. I figured you could use it.”

Buffy strode past her, down the hall and out into the kitchen. “Croissants,” Buffy exaggerated the French pronunciation with great delight, “and coffee.”

Tara shut the front door and followed her friend. She watched Buffy pull out one of the tall pine stools, sit down and peer through into the main living area. She smiled as she watched Buffy’s attention drawn back to the food in front of her. “I don’t have much time. I’ve already missed one class and have another in half an hour.” Tara knew she was late but somehow couldn’t summon the energy to rush.

“Tara, you live on campus, it’s a five minute walk.”

Tara walked back out the kitchen and entered the living area. She pulled up a stool opposite the counter top on which Buffy had opened up the paper bakery bag.

After sipping coffee., Tara turned to her friend, trying to think how to phrase the question in her mind. “Er, Buffy, last night…was I…”

Buffy looked at her friend. “Eat sweetie, we can talk about it later. You have class to get to.”

Tara smiled shyly and looked at the food before her. She tore off a piece of the buttery pastry and popped it into her mouth.


***



Tara glanced at the clock on the wall above the door. Only a minute to go. “Are there any questions?” She looked along rows of young faces and for once hoped there weren’t any questions. She usually relished the chance to engage with her students. She wanted to know they were hearing her and understanding the material, but more than that, the questions gave her a chance to try to go beyond the core of the examinable material. Today though, she just didn’t feel like she was quite connected with reality and doubted she could maintain her usual sunny disposition with her students. Another glance at the clock and it was over. No questions. “Okay then,” she announced with humor she didn’t entirely feel, “’til next time.”

Students filed out of the hall leaving behind a distant echo of conversation. The sudden silence reverberated in her mind. She decided she’d take advantage of the timely finish and grab another cup of coffee before her next class.

“I have a question.”

Tara looked up and was rather surprised to see Buffy sitting on a row end about half way up the middle block of seats. The hall was almost empty now. She glanced back towards the door and momentarily watched the last couple of students leave; a red-head talking animatedly to a slightly taller blonde. Tara hoped they were discussing the lecture. Hoped they’d learned something. She turned back to face Buffy and offered a slightly nervous smile. “So you’re in my class now?”

She started loading files into her bag. When Buffy did not immediately respond to her little jibe, she looked up curiously. Buffy’s expression was ambiguous, difficult to read. “What is it?” asked Tara, concerned now.

Buffy got up and descended the steps, approaching the front of the lecture hall. She sighed. “It’s nothing really, it’s just that…”

Her friend’s hesitation seemed painful. Tara wished she could do something to help induce the words.

“I wanted to ask you last night. But somehow, the wine and everything, I just never got around to it.”

Tara looked around the hall deliberately. “It’s just you and me. You can tell me.”

Buffy took a deep breath. “Well, you remember after Giles went home?”

Tara smiled as she thought of Buffy’s mentor. He’d been a good friend to Tara during some difficult times. “After the Intervention, he said there was just no point in him being around when you had the demon population of not only Sunnydale but everywhere in a thousand mile radius terrified to step out against you.”

Buffy couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, but do you remember what he said before he left?”

Tara thought back to what she hoped would be the last tearful farewell to the old Watcher in Sunnydale’s tiny airport. “He said that peace time could be just as challenging as war.”

Buffy nodded. “I just always assumed he meant that there’d always be something new climbing out the Hellmouth trying to break it all down. But…”

Tara willed her friend the strength to find the words to express herself.

“Well lately, I’ve found it difficult.”

“Difficult? Like how do you mean?”

Buffy hesitated. She grinned and looked down, rubbing the back of her neck distractedly. “Like, I worry. I worry it’s too good and that something’s going to happen. It’s not the fighting. They still come occasionally and it’s still easy enough to dispatch demons and stupid vamps. It’s not that, it’s wondering what the next big-bad will be.”

Tara stretched out her hand and lifted her friend’s chin with her curled finger. Suddenly she began to understand the often melancholy mood she found Buffy in when she turned up for her midnight visits. “Buffy, that’s perfectly natural. You spent years getting here. Years getting to a point where it could be this controlled. It’s understandable you’d worry that somehow it will all fall apart and the evil will come back. After what we did though…it may take longer than our lifetimes. You get to be the first Slayer to enjoy a living retirement.” She offered Buffy a hopeful smile.

But Buffy was not smiling. Tara examined her friend’s features and an idea began to form. She realized that her friend’s talent for understatement had perhaps matured. It was more than just ‘worry’. “Buffy, have you been sleeping well?”

When she looked back up, her friend had tears in her eyes. “I never needed much sleep, but I do still need rest. But now, I lie awake and all I can think about is when they’ll come back. That they’ll be redoubled in strength and I won’t be able to fight it. I’ve tried everything…I’ve been drinking more…”

Tara’s face became resolved. “Buffy, I can help. Sleep? Relaxation? Good things to be asking a Wiccan about. I’ve got plenty of things in my Book of Shadows.”

Buffy managed a small smile. “Got anything for paranoia though?”

“Well, you never know…” Tara was relieved to see a sparkle of mirth behind the fading tears. “I’ve got class to get to now, but meet me at my apartment at six-thirty and we can see what may help then? Okay?”

Buffy nodded.


***



Tara walked swiftly along her lobby. Approaching her front door, she was surprised to see Buffy sitting cross legged in front of it, eyes closed. Thinking Buffy might be in some kind of Slayer meditation, Tara slowed her pace and tried to reach quietly into her pocket for her keys.

“Hi!”

Tara stopped abruptly, heart thumping as she watched Buffy stand up, apparently wide awake and alert.

“Sorry I’m early. I just couldn’t wait. I was just trying to get in the mood with some breathing exercises.”

Tara smiled weakly at her friend. “Okay then.” She took out her key and carefully inserted it into the lock.






Tara placed her bag and key on the table next to the long mirror that hung from the wall to the right of the front door. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable and I’ll go and fetch the book.”

Buffy nodded and wandered through into the main living space. She sat down on the course knitted rug in front of Tara’s small blue cloth couch. Tara entered her bedroom and then returned moments later carrying a heavy looking leather bound volume. She sat down on the rug opposite Buffy and crossed her legs.

“Here we go. The Book.”

Buffy looked apologetic. “I know it seems silly, but I’m run ragged. I just couldn’t think what else to try.”

Tara smiled shyly, glad she could help. “My only wish is you’d come to me sooner.” As she spoke, she reverently opened the book to the first page. She frowned.

Buffy looked at her friend’s expression quizzically. “What is it?”

For a long minute Tara didn’t answer. Then she began to page through the book, flipping from front to back, before stopping and looking up, concern and fear in her expression.

“It’s empty.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows in surprise. “How’s that possible? Could somebody have taken the spells?”

“I-I don’t know,” Tara managed.

Buffy tried to be logical. “When was the last time you used it?”

Tara looked up at her friend sadly. “Not for a long while.” She exhaled unsteadily and slowly inhaled, controlling herself.

“So, looks like we’ve got bigger problems than my insomnia. Where the hell has your magick gone? That is your book isn’t it? There’s no chance somebody wanted to steal it and replaced it…”

Tara threw her friend a withering glance, laced with a smile. Buffy’s ability to lighten a serious situation was sometimes extremely welcome. “It’s mine.” The book was old and deeply personalized, containing all her mother’s writings, her grand-mother’s magickal works and her own studies and research. Tara refused to accept the possibility it was all gone. Something had happened. She considered the different ways her book could have emptied.

“So,” asked Buffy, “what do you think could have happened? Are we dealing with something other worldly?”

Worryingly, Tara found that all the possibilities she could think of had serious implications. They all pointed to the use of significant power in a calculated way. Targeted at her. Why her? And Why now? She wished she had not allowed her practice to wane.

“What can we do?”

Tara did not answer her friend immediately, instead choosing to let gathering thoughts assemble further in her mind.

“Tara?”

Tara caught the concern in her friend’s questioning and looked up at her. “There might be a way…”

“What way?” urged Buffy.

“There’s a way to see if certain magicks have been used. It might work.”

Buffy looked worried. “But how will you recognize your magic from anybody else’s? There’s witches and demons all over this town experimentin’ the night away.”

Tara smiled, for once confident in her own knowledge. “If someone’s taken it somehow, I’ll be able to tell if the magick’s been worked nearby. Buffy, beyond the basics, spells are often very personal, created to focus power in ways specific to precise needs. Spells that focus a lot of power leave certain after affects that can be detected.”

“So like forensics for magic?”

Tara raised an eyebrow. She still couldn’t quite get used to how much Buffy had changed and chided herself for underestimating the woman’s understanding of the world. “That’s exactly right.”

“So how do we do it if you’ve lost all your spells?”

Tara smiled. “Well it’s actually a trance. It’s similar to the one we used for your mother. Don’t you remember? When your mother was ill and there was a chance it might have been a mystical attack?”

Buffy looked at her curiously. “You’ve lost me. So many spells, so many demons, I lose track.”

“Uh, right well, okay. It was a long time ago.” Tara didn’t like to drag up the past and figured Buffy was just uncomfortable talking about it. “I can do it now. It has been a while, but I’m fairly confident.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Er, nothing really. I just need peace. It could take several hours. You might want to go home.” She smiled at Buffy, her brow creasing with concern, not wanting to upset her friend but hoping she would understand.

“You don’t need any supplies? Mystic sands or voodoo herbs or anything?”

Tara giggled. “I’ve got what I need. Thank-you.”

Buffy got up. “Okay then. Gimme a call when you’re done. Call my cell, I’ll be patrolling.”

“I will.” Tara watched Buffy head to the door.




She decided the best place to situate herself was in her study. The expansive mahogany floor would be ideal. Again she wondered why she hadn’t felt the call to practice for so long. She’d had to go hunting for some of the items she needed but had found everything eventually. Most of it hidden beneath or behind stacks of books on various esoteric religions, philosophy, anthropology and other subjects important to her work.

Eventually she had everything arranged to her satisfaction. She closed her eyes and breathed.




Tara wasn’t clear how much time had passed. She could sense her awareness coming back slowly. It had been a long time since she’d performed a serious trance. The feelings were distantly familiar but she also felt more disoriented than she normally might have. The initial tingling of sensory consciousness returning to full completion and then to normal wakefulness could be an extended period. During the transition it was difficult to tell exactly where one was on the journey. ‘Best not to rush it.’ She remembered the words of her mother. ‘Just let the world come back to you.’

She could hear her mother’s voice so clearly. Despite the comfort the words brought her and the safety her ethereal presence offered, Tara still felt tainted with pangs of grief. Some part of Tara’s mind told her it was the effect of the trance that was altering the tone of her conscious memories, amplifying them.

Suddenly another memory arose. She thought of the night before. A darkened restaurant, a lot of wine and a deep slumber suffused with intense dreams details of which had been elusive. Only now the detail no longer eluded her. She remembered.

Sitting in the middle of a lecture theatre. Only this time she was student not teacher. She struggled to hear the professor’s words. The woman spoke softly. Tara enjoyed the cadence of her voice. Found it soothing. Yet the words were not clear. The sounds came but she could not piece together the actual words. However much she strained she could only hear only nonsensical scraps. She tried to write what she could but, when she looked down at her page, she couldn’t read her notes.

Tara’s returning consciousness smiled at the thought. Just the usual fears and worries arising. Nothing surprising there. As Tara had often found, dream memories returned in fragments. At the moment of her dismissal of her own sub-consciousness, another piece returned.

In her dream she turned to the student to her right to ask her what the professor had just said. The woman next to her had long flowing red hair that obscured her face. She didn’t seem to hear Tara’s request. Politely she touched the young woman’s arm to try to draw her attention. Opening her mouth to re-iterate her question, Tara froze. Suddenly she was afraid to see the face of the woman hiding behind her hair. The woman felt very cold. Tara snatched back her hand and her heart was beating quickly as she feared the woman turning to look at her. But the look didn’t come. And as quickly as it had arisen the memory settled.

Tara felt her heart slow and thought about the strange woman in her dream. Why had she felt so frightened of her? Frightened to ask for help? Maybe she should have majored in psychology. Interpreting dreams was difficult. The red-head seemed like any other student at first. In fact she seemed vaguely familiar. Tara felt she’d seen the girl before. In one of her classes maybe. Again memory sharpened. She had seen the girl very recently. Though she had not seen her face, Tara was certain it was the same woman she’d seen leaving her lecture earlier that day.

Red-heads everywhere,’ she mused. Tara could feel she was nearly fully back in the real world now. Transitioning into and out of trance could often yield interesting and sometimes frightening experiences. Part of the training was learning how to deal with such things. Her mother had taught her carefully and purposefully, instilling in her the understanding necessary to handle the elements of Self and of the world that could suddenly come into sharp relief during trance.

Just seeing what I want to see.’ She grinned.

Her grin faded suddenly and she lurched forward feeling nausea in the pit of her stomach. The room fell away as another memory arose in full three dimensional color before her eyes. The room darkened, the air changed and she was completely enveloped in one last ephemeral image.

Tara stood in the empty restaurant. Before her the series of booths. In each booth, a painting. She’d paid the art scant attention the other night as she headed towards the table allocated to Buffy and herself.

This time the works looked different. Although she was standing several feet away, she could feel the texture of the canvas and vibrant, emotive impressions in the paint. The passion in the artists mind flared at her, trapping her attention. With effort, Tara managed to pull her glance from the painting directly before her to the one in the next booth. The effect was the same. The work was beautiful. Real and powerful. The next picture was the same. Each one called to her. More than just oil on canvas. She recognized every piece. Rossetti, Millais, Collier, Hacker and Leighton.

The sickness in the pit of her stomach was driven from the theme she saw arising and the knowledge there was no chance a series of random events, dreams and memories could be quite so closely linked by mere coincidence. Her spiritual mind knew it meant something else.

She remembered every painting. Lady Lilith. The Martyr of the Solway. Lady Godiva. Fire Francies. And of course who could forget Flaming June? Tara’s eyes snapped open.

“What the hell’s going on?” she asked the room in general. She’d not found any evidence of use of her magick. Nothing. She’d sat in a peaceful void for, she glanced over at the clock on the study wall, nearly two hours and it was only when she’d begun to exit the trance that things had started to get strange.

Her eyes wandered the room as her mind spun through possibilities. She looked at the piles of papers arranged neatly on her desk. Next to the tallest pile sat the phone. Decisive, she stood up, walked over to the phone and picked it up.


***



“I told you, they’re not open on Mondays.”

Tara looked at Buffy, exasperated. “Why not?”

Buffy shrugged her shoulders. “They’re just not. Never have been. I’ve been coming here monthly for a couple of years and they’ve always said they’re not open Mondays.”

Tara released another sigh. “Okay, we have to find a way in.”

“What? What’s got you so riled up that you want to go breaking into legitimate businesses and be snooping around for…I don’t even know what it is we’re here for! It’s not clever to be in this part of town at this time of night you know!”

Tara deflated a little. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

“Well, I did the trance and got nothing.”

“Nothing? Huh. So nobody’s been working the Maclay mojo then?”

Tara shivered and looked up and down the darkened street. She was beginning to question her own conviction. But they were here now. “I couldn’t pick up any sign of use of any of the spells from the book, no.”

“So,” asked Buffy pointedly. “Why are we here? Explain it to me.” She folded her arms across her new leather jacket and waited.

“Okay, well, as I was coming out of the trance, something happened.”

Buffy’s expression was patient. Waiting for explanation.

“Well, it’s just, those paintings on the wall, they’re strange. I wanted to look at them properly, up close.”

Buffy stood up and folded her arms. “You want me to break into this place so you can have your own private exhibition because a dream told you the pictures were strange?!”

Tara cringed a little at the anger in Buffy’s tone.

It sounded ridiculous. Tara couldn’t easily explain the intensity of what she’d experienced and didn’t yet feel ready to share the dream and the memory of the woman she’d seen in the lecture theatre. “Buffy, I said it was hard to explain. I did the trance to try to get insight into what happened to the contents of my book and well, it showed me something. It wasn’t what I was expecting. Usually nothing significant happens on the way out of a trance, just random emotions and images, but this time it was different. I think it’s connected to the book.” She hoped Buffy would understand her urgency.

“This is serious isn’t it? Your book just appearing empty like that? That would have to be something major wouldn’t it?”

Tara folded her own arms across her stomach. “Yes. Anything or anyone who could do this would have to be powerful.”

When she responded, Buffy’s tone was even and determined. “Okay then. Let’s do this.”


***



Several minutes later, Tara was standing in a darkened restaurant. Weak moonlight silvered the edges of the clouds and offered some small illumination within the main dining room. “Buffy, I need to see. It’s too dark in here.”

Buffy sighed. “Use the table candle. Putting the lights on would draw attention.”

Tara stepped gingerly towards the first booth’s table. She located a wax candle mounted in a bottle. A match book lay conveniently at the base of the bottle.

As the light flared she glanced quickly back at Buffy before turning her full attention to the painting.

“Er, can we just get this done as quickly as possible?” whispered Buffy.

Tara didn’t answer. She was gazing at the Rossetti, fascinated.

“Are they all of red-headed women?”

Tara jumped, her reverie split. She turned to face Buffy who was standing, hands on hips looking up and down at the paintings in the first three booths. She seemed unmoved. Certainly not…captivated? Was that the word? Was it something stronger?

“Buffy, have you looked closely at any of these paintings? They’re stunning. Something about the way they’re framed, the lighting here. Something. They just draw you in.”

Buffy nodded. “They’re nice I guess. But why are they all of red-heads? I never noticed that before.”

Tara shook her head slowly. “I’ve no idea. Buffy, what did you notice before? Can you remember these paintings from before tonight? Was it always this set of pictures on the wall?”

“I guess. I never really paid much attention. They could have been different.”

“Hmm. I want to see the one in the booth where we sat.”

“Okay. I’ll keep watch.”

Tara walked towards the end booth. She stopped in front of the table. She stood very still, breathing slowly, focused entirely on the picture in front of her.

“Tara? Is it another red-”

“No.” Tara looked at the painting in awe. A forest. Old. Lush, verdant green and deep textured umber of the forest earth and huge old trunks clad in velvet moss gave an overwhelming sense of magnitude. The great old trees stretched into a distant sky, some broken, some topped with green, paled by a bleak sunlight. At the centre of the scene a clearing. The trees were evenly spaced, clearly marking the perimeter. At the centre stood a figure. Dressed in a long white dress, she knelt, face turned high, arms stretched to the sky, palms open as if reaching for something. Or receiving something. She smiled. She seemed blissful. Though the figure was tiny, Tara marveled at how her blonde tresses seemed to shine under the dim morning light filtering through the forest’s canopy.

The visage of the woman drew her closer, encircled her attention and focused her mind. The picture was magnificent, the artist truly gifted. Some small part of her mind wondered why she’d never heard of an artist that could produce such work. A picture that stimulated the senses and filled the room. Tara realized she could smell the earthy scent of the forest. She breathed in deeply and felt total calm descend in her mind. She felt deeply safe in the centre of the circle of old trees. She continued to observe the woman at the circle centre. Suddenly the woman opened her eyes. Tara gave a start. She’d thought the woman was in deep prayer. Meditation even. She didn’t want to step too close, to disturb her peace.

The woman smiled at her. “It’s okay. I’m finished now.”

Tara felt unsure of herself. Not clear what to say. She felt completely comfortable in the forest, surrounded by great old trees, but the woman was still a stranger to her.

“I-I didn’t want to disturb…”

“Tara. You didn’t,” replied the woman, still smiling.

“You finished your prayer?”

The woman nodded. “Do you like it here?”

“It’s beautiful. So peaceful. Far away from everything.”

The woman looked around. “It is a wonderful creation you have here.”

Tara was about to agree when she realized the words she’d heard didn’t quite make sense. She watched the woman, eyes open now, but continuing to search the sky. “Er…”

The woman turned towards her and waited for Tara.

“You, you said it’s a wonderful creation I have here? What do you mean by that? It’s a beautiful place, but…”

“You made it.” The woman’s expression was still pleasant, patient, but also showed no sign of real mirth.

“I’m sorry, I-I don’t understand, I…”

Again, the forgiving smile. “How did you get here Tara?”

Again she hesitated. This conversation was turning stranger by the moment. “What do you mean how did I get here? I…” She stopped. Tara felt her heart flutter as for the life of her she could not summon the memory of where she’d been before she’d been standing in this forest. She tried again. “I got here…” But she couldn’t finish.

The woman reached out towards Tara, her hand extended, palm upwards. “Tara, it’s okay. Everything okay.”

Tara stared at the woman’s hand and then found herself moving toward it. As her finger tips grazed the woman’s palm she began to feel better. She took the hand proffered and felt her anxiety begin to ebb away. ‘It is okay. I’m okay. She’ll explain.’ “What’s your name?” asked Tara.

The woman smiled. “I’m glad you asked me that. My name is Zoe.”

Tara felt she could ask her new friend anything and that somehow she would have all the answers. “Where is this and how did I get here?”

“I told you. You made this place.”

The answer didn’t surprise her. Tara knew the innate truth of the assertion. “But what’s this place and if I did make it, how did I make it?”

“You made it because you were ready to move on from your transition reality. You made it to meet me.”

Tara frowned. As they talked, Zoe invited Tara to sit. The two women, knelt opposite each other in the centre of the clearing. Tara could feel the sun warming on the back of her neck. Zoe still held her hand. “You didn’t say how.”

“Tara, I knew that when you finally got here you’d understand. Many never get past why or what. How is the most interesting.”

Tara raised an eyebrow, waiting. She thought Zoe was about to laugh. “Your Soul is a rarefied beauty. This place sprang from there.”

As fragments of a dream will suddenly break the surface of conscious memory, Tara remembered and she understood. She knew how she’d gotten here and where she’d come from. Knew what was real and what was a warm fantasy to facilitate her adjustment. Life had seemed peaceful. Easy. Sheathed in her study with no real worry, little human contact. Only one real friend, a caricature of a woman she now clearly remembered. A faux life of elegant simplicity that had lasted, how long? She knew not. Just long enough to allow her Soul to transition to the next realm. Zoe had talked about the transition process. The world sprang from within her. When at last she’d been ready to move onwards, she’d been lead to this place. Another part of her. Marking the completion of transition and the first step towards something else.

Tara wondered what had started the process of her transition world peeling away. She remembered waking up in the library. Before that she could focus on very little. Her memory was just an under-painting. Enough to seem real if not examined too closely. And why would she want to remember when she was so happy with her simple “life”? But something strange had started to happen. Reality or real memory had started to bleed back in and pushed out her fantasy creation.

Things had started to go wrong. Buffy’s odd behavior, the empty book. Until the trance, she’d never tried any kind of magick in her dream world. The book had always been empty. It was just a symbol. To have done magick might have recalled life. The urge to do magick meant she was ready and then things started to alter their appearance. Only when the time was right…which was now.

The trance and the memories and thoughts it had surfaced were disturbing. Definitely not what she’d expected. The paintings. Potent and strange...All red-heads. Tara pondered. She thought she should feel afraid yet all she felt was curiosity.

Tara found it hard to remember what fear felt like. She thought about the beautiful Rossetti. Lilith. Her auburn hair the focus of the painting. Tara’s smile faded. There was still one other emotion that did exist here. Her spirit withered as grief flooded through her. She remembered Willow. Devastating and intense, she remembered everything. Just before the end. Being loved in unfathomable dimension. Momentary pain before the fall. She’d left her Willow all alone.

Zoe was still holding her hand and Tara felt deep reverential love flowing into her. Zoe was not perhaps what she seemed, just presented in a form that was easier for Tara to be with. Tara knew why she was here. She knew that somehow, some kindness of the universe allowed her adjustment to be a little easier. Made the grief of the loss of an existence just bearable. Her chest burned.

“Tara?”

Tara blinked her eyes, trying to focus through the tears.

“Tara, you know where you are now?”

Tara turned around. All she could see was the forest. Notionally, her transition reality lay out there. She’d found the exit and was about to move on. “I know.”

“We have to go.”

Tara nodded thoughtfully. “Go where exactly?”

“Into the mezzanine.”


***



TBC…

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Last edited by raspberryhat on Tue Oct 25, 2005 11:03 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Tue Oct 25, 2005 9:09 pm 
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wow... this is great. Your fic is really complex and fascinating. I can't begin to guess where it's going to go. (A favourite game of mine)

The depiction of Willow's grief in the beginning is so real .. such despair and hopelessness. Poor Willow.

I don't know how I missed this fic back in March, but I'll be keeping a check on it for updates from now on. More soon, please?

BTW are you the same author as RasberryHats?

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Tue Oct 25, 2005 10:58 pm 
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Thank you. I've only ever been raspberryhat. There was a problem that my account gained an s on the new board. I seem to recall that made me ras*p*berryhats. Only one way to be sure though...which stories were you thinking of?

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Wed Oct 26, 2005 2:09 am 
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Wowee, raspberryhat. This is a meticulous and very intricately woven fic you've presented. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it all.

I skimmed over chapter two while it was in Beta....but I was way too confused to leave any coherent feedback. Distilling it down helped a bit, i really enjoy the mental exercise of wrapping my brain around the psychological aspect of everything that happened for all the Scoobies after Tara's death. However, Tara's dream reality struck eerily close to the episode after Willow raises Buffy from the dead and Buffy thinks shes in a mental hospital and everything else is in her head. That episode did a mindfuck on me.

I really like how you go in depth with Willow's feelings, and the memories that caused those feelings. It's like this great emotional wellspring just waiting to be tapped into. Thanks for taking us along for the ride.

Definitly can't wait for the next installment. Toodles, take care.

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Wed Oct 26, 2005 4:13 am 
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my bad ... can't spell raspberry ... sorry.

The other RaspberryHats authored Between the Lines (also a good story), currently about fifth on Different Colored Pens. Interestingly you both have the same joining dates.

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Wed Oct 26, 2005 10:51 am 
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W O W :thud :thud :thud i'm utterly speechless

i'm glad you updated or i never would have found this story! :bounce :bounce

and what a story indeed... :bow :bow :bow

my brain won't function right now except to say more more more! :pray :pray :pray

again, WOW! i'm definitely gonna be following this thread!


ces


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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
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I think I my heart stopped beating a good two minutes when I saw that you had updated! This was one of the first stories I read when I found Pens and it had me completely rapt from the start. Your writing is so vivid, every little detail springs to life. The words just weave this amazing picture in my head.

This last chapter has definitely peaked my interest. I can't wait to see where you're going to take it. Your story is by far one the best written and most captivating one on Pens.

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
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That's really very much appreciated. It is complex, but it is all part of plan and is going somewhere. My battle is to keep it coherent and on the path.

I must once again thank my betas for their patient support and guidance.

Looks like hats is another person entirely. I've only written two other stories which are buried in the archives somewhere.

This has been a really long time coming. RL issues.

Chapter four is written and it's a lot longer. Does however need a great deal of work before it'll be ready. Could be a while.

R.

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Tue Nov 01, 2005 10:00 am 
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Wow, I'm so glad I found this story! It's a really wonderful achievement already, and I get the feeling you're only getting started :)

Firstly, I love all the magic and mysticism you've incorporated. Your take on magic, time and space have a real depth of feeling and understanding to them without becoming incoherent. As an aside, have you read the His Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pullman? There's a...sense...in your writing that reminds me of his work (that's a compliment). I found your image of magic being "earthed" particularly compelling.

Another thing you manage to do extremely well is to convey a subtle sense of disjointedness when necessary without creating a big mental neon sign that says "dream" or "alternate reality". I don't think I've ever thought of the London Underground as a scary place before, but I think I might need an escort next time I venture out ;) The dark restaurant, with its creepy setting and red bull's-blood wine also unsettled me just enough that I didn't quite trust what I was reading. It reminds me a lot of the dim lighting used in a lot of Restless. Your Buffy in those exchanges was also just odd enough to make me a little suspicious, whereas you write her perfectly in the earlier sections.

I also really liked Antorwath, if liked is the right word. He seemed so cold, so calculating and set somehow so mournfully resigned to his fate. As if he saw a bigger picture than any of the other players with dealing with. I'm really keen to know more about this storyline. Why did he dust like a vamp? What exactly was Elizabeth's role in Elysium? Funny name for such a place of torture, Elysium. Wasn't it the Greek version of Heaven, where heros went when they died? Ironic.

Quote:
As she raised her sword, he intoned, “The witch is powerful. The world will change around her.”


Interested by this statement. Perhaps Willow could be unknowingly warping the world to bring Tara back? I shouldn't guess, but it's very tempting. I'm also very interested by Willow's ability to see other versions of herself in reflections during her greatest exposure to magic. I'm assuming she's seeing into other dimensions, which is in itself a fascinating concept.

Finally, your little bait with the "mezzanine" thing. Elizabeth called the place where Willow earthed her powers a mezzanine, so my guess is that Tara's heading for the same place, or the same dimension, or the same experience...or something. So many possibilities.

All in all, I'm absolutely loving what your doing here, and the more I think about it, the more I love it. It's such an intricate world you're creating, and an even more intricate story you're weaving within it. I'm absolutely fascinated by every facet of it. I get the feeling that you're shooting for something on a really grand scale here, and you've hit every mark absolutely spot-on. I really couldn't be more excited to find out where you're going next.

Bravo! :bow

mo.


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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
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You're absolutely right about Elysium. The name was meant ironically. Early asylums could be such cruel places with such barbaric means. Yet I always imagined the architects felt they were building something of hope. Such places would be named aspirationally I thought. It was just meant to convey the irony that even if such places had good intent, what went on was often very far from good.

I've not read Pullman, but am aware of it. I've heard others talk of it.

I think magic, the world and most important, our characters are complex and naturally a certain amount of complexity follows in the story. It's a slow burn because it takes a lot from me to do this, but I do have it mapped.

R.

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
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I'm struggling to find the words to explain how much I've enjoyed this tale so far. I've come to it a bit late, just found it a week ago, but I'm fascinated. Willow's struggle seems to be only just beginning. Who in the frilly heck is Elizabeth. I echo others who don't quite trust this seeminly benevolent witch. What world/incaration is Tara in and what does it mean that she's ready to move on?

Needless to say, I'm intrigued. You have a wonderful story going here. Your characterizations are very true: Willow's overwhelming guilt; Giles' dissapointment, both with his "children" and with himself; Buffy's internal strength and need to help; Tara's growing power and transformation into a well-rounded woman, not just a narative device to further Willow.

Fabulous work. I do so hope you're still working on this tale.

Happy New Year to you and yours,
Michelle

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
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Thank you. You're right, things are just warming up. I am finally making some progress on chapter four now. There's just been no time. I hope to post more in the reasonably near future. So many details to get right though...I want it to be just so.

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
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Through a Glass, Darkly

Occam’s Razor (Chapter 4 of ?), Part 1

By Raspberryhat


Disclaimer: BtVS does not belong to me.
Background: Everything up to the end of Season Six happened as per canon.
Spoilers: Season three through six.
Distribution: Please ask me first if you’d like to distribute this.
Classification: This part of the story is rated PG-13.
Feedback: Feedback is appreciated, but please be gentle.
Draft: 2.2 / Feb 26th 2006.

***



“Mom?”

“It’s getting dark, ” came the whispered response.

Willow sighed and began to get up. “I’ll turn a light on.”

“No.”

Though she continued to stare out the kitchen window, Willow thought she saw her mother’s expression soften.

“Don’t. I like the twilight.”

“Oh.” Willow sat back in her chair, uncomfortable. She followed her mother’s gaze. The evening skyline was charcoal, the only remaining light, a smudge of lustrous orange that leant a warmth to the deepening shadows.

Her mother continued to stare out the window. “When I was a girl, I used to sit in the kitchen with my mother. Sometimes we’d listen to music while she cooked. I always loved Billie Holiday. Did I ever tell you that?

Willow shook her head. “No,” she whispered, “you never told me that.” After a moment’s consideration she decided to try again with her question. “Mom. What did Mr Giles tell you?” The fleeting melancholy Willow thought she’d seen was gone, replaced with a more complex emotion. She waited.

Sheila Rosenberg sighed and turned to face her daughter, suspecting her words would not be easy for Willow to hear. Yet she so desperately wanted to try to communicate with her daughter. The girl, woman, she felt she no longer knew. “He said, well, he said you became very depressed after the death of your friend.”

The words echoed in her mind. Her life made pallid, all meaning elided. Willow felt a debilitating stillness descend. Her chest burned. Involuntarily she raised a hand to the protrusion resting against her clavicle. The spiny artefact she’d been wearing for the last three months irritated her skin but it hadn’t burned her this way since the early days. Not since she’d managed to start building control.

Surprise was replaced with a sense of deep disappointment. In herself. The artefact would get hot when draining power. Its reaction could only mean one thing. It kept the magick from the outside world, punishing her for her lack of control. While the artefact kept the magick from escaping, it did little to reduce the many and varied transitional effects. Elizabeth’s lessons had helped her begin to learn to cope with what she now accepted could be a lifetime affliction. Sometimes she just fell out the world. And sometimes the transition was more...acute. Dread began to build in her stomach.

Willow wanted to seek comfort in her mother’s eyes. Yet she could not look up. Even the tiniest movement of bone upon brittle bone would be dangerous. She continued to stare at her coffee cup, watching steam rise as the liquid within cooled. Her heart beat hard against her fragile ribs and she felt her chest might collapse. The transformation spread slowly. Her bones dying, leaving behind brittle glassy forms barely strong enough to hold her skin. It crawled down her arm to her hand and fingers and simultaneously up through her chest and neck.

Willow saw her mother’s hand reaching uncertainly out to her. She tried to speak, to tell her to stop, but words wouldn’t come. If she moved she’d die. Tiny glass fragments would shatter into her bloodstream, her body would be cut to pieces.

She tried to concentrate. Slow the heart. Shallow breaths. Don’t pressure the chest. ‘Wait for the tide to ebb and then withdraw from it.’ The words echoed in her mind.

“Willow?”

She could hear the agitation in her mother’s voice, but there was nothing she could do. She felt fractal glass veins expanding across one side of her face, setting her jaw. Her heart fluttered fearfully as the change moved upwards across her cheek. The word formed in her mind; ‘No.’ She felt a tear escape the corner of her eye and begin to crystallise, stinging painfully. A cadmium tint bled through her right eye, distorting her focus. Then all sight and sound began to fade. Dimly she heard the words; “Willow, I am going to get help.”

She felt an abiding sadness. She’d undergone so many changes. With Elizabeth’s teaching, she’d been able to better understand those changes. For a mage, incipient mental dissonance was a dangerous condition. Unchecked, strong emotions could effect the self and the world in profound ways that were both hard to predict and difficult to understand.

As the velvet darkness became complete, Willow felt the pain in her body begin recede. Her heart slowed, and her emotions began to ebb. She didn’t know where she was and as her mind quietened further she became less certain who she was. She was here. It was quiet here. No emotion now. She could not feel appreciation for calm here. She was just here. Here was nowhere she knew or had known. But it didn’t matter. Neither fear nor curiosity drove her to worry.

Then nihilism. Total and complete.




Willow opened her eyes and tried to see through the pre-dawn forest light. Mist wrapped around the base of a thousand pines. She felt the dampness of the soft bracken penetrating her clothes.

Suddenly, she remembered. Memory or consciousness of the previous world was unusual. She’d been sitting with her mother. The memory was impressionistic. A water color of another existence. Yet she remembered sitting with her mother and then...her mother had asked her about Tara. And she’d lost herself. Thinking about it now though, she felt no consternation.

Though she was in a strange place, she did not feel afraid. Willow had begun to realise that other realms or dimensions were parts of a larger reality that she was just starting to experience and understand. Some distances were crossed physically. Some in other ways. In ways that were only open to people of a certain ‘disposition’. More recently she’d started to learn that it was not possible to visit a realm without changing internally. Moving in different worlds was more like taking a ride in a vessel that was already there.

She sat up. The smell of the damp earth was strong. It reminded her of the practice. When she alone and later, she and Tara had performed rituals. Learning together. Certain places. Deeply forested and calm. They’d found their magick developed quickly in the right environment, together. She wondered which Willow she was here. She could never know her total self. The transition here had been unexpected. Yet it was another place to explore. For however long she had.

Standing, she brushed herself off. Rays of the rising sun began to filter through the forest canopy, illuminating what appeared to be a clearing not far ahead. Willow began to pick her way through the undergrowth. The morning sunlight warmed her face and she felt a sense of contentment as she walked.

As she approached the edge of the clearing, Willow stopped suddenly. Kneeling at the centre of the forest floor was a woman, eyes closed, face turned to the sky. She seemed to be praying.

Not wanting to disturb the woman’s reverie, Willow waited.

Come.”

Willow looked around and then back at the woman in the clearing who remained perfectly still, eyes turned to the Goddess.

Sit with me.”

Her mellifluous voice was happiness. Enlightenment. Forgiveness. Willow stepped into the clearing.

We didn’t know if you’d be able to make the journey.

Willow was about to speak but then realised it was unnecessary.

There’s so much more you’ll learn.

Willow acknowledged the truth of the statement. She’d never stop learning. She knew that now. She’d thought she’d left practice behind. Her arrogance had been her undoing.

The woman lowered her head and smiled at some inner thought. She opened her eyes and turned to Willow.

When Willow looked into the woman’s face she felt her heart flutter and her knees weaken. She dropped to the earth and searched the woman’s face. Tiny fragments of familiarity. Tantalising. Confusing.

The woman smiled. “You will understand.”

I will?

She’s close.

The woman smiled and raised a hand before Willow could reply.

When you can find this place at will, you will have taken the first step.

But, what is this place?

The woman reached out her hand.

Hesitantly, Willow offered her own hand. As their finger’s met, the strange woman’s beatific smile faded. Her eyes snapped shut, then wide open. Willow saw piercing grey eyes staring back at her.

“You...”

This time the voice was different. Older, darker. The woman’s eyes defocused. She seemed to be lost in thought.

“Me?”

“How did you get here?”

Confused, fearful, Willow said, “I don’t understand.”

The woman’s penetrating gaze withdrew. “You will not be able to return here as you are. Go now.” The woman dropped her hand. Willow felt her arm grow warm and then she was falling into darkness. Momentary panic flickered through her mind, yet the speed of motion was so great that there was little time for real fear to crystallise in her mind.




She opened her eyes and saw the concerned face of her mother. Behind her, she saw Buffy. As her mind settled back into her body she realised they must have feared a relapse. Though the Slayer’s stance was alert, her expression was watchful rather than threatening.

“Willow?” her mother asked again.

She sat up and realised her arm burned. She’d knocked over her coffee cup. Hot liquid seeped from the seam of her blouse.

The more tangled emotion of her life in this world began to ebb back, but she asserted her control this time. Forcing a smile, she looked from her mother, to Buffy and then back again. “I better go change.”

Willow slid past her mother and her friend and walked towards the stairs leading up to her room. Despite now feeling physically okay, she ascended the stairs carefully.

Sitting down on her bed, she put her head in her hands and wished she could have started over. She tried to remember the girl who’d inhabited this room. It felt like such a long time ago.

Things had been easier in the confines of Elizabeth’s retreat. Right from the moment of getting on the plane, she’d felt her new found control threatened. Marking the moment of return, she’d stood on the sidewalk outside the airport for a long time, gazing up at the cirrus vapour trails scoring the azure California sky. There were too many new situations. Too many things she couldn’t anticipate. Too much that could go wrong. She wondered what her mother had seen.



***


Tbc.

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 Post subject: Re: New Fic: Through a Glass, Darkly
PostPosted: Thu Mar 02, 2006 4:37 pm 
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Sorry it took such a long time. There's plenty more to come. I think I am feeling confident enough of my outline to work on smaller pieces now. I hope you like it.

I must cite some inspiration for this. I caught a piece of a radio show some time ago about certain manifestations of depression causing a feeling of glassy brittleness. I was quite carried by the thought and found it came out in this piece.

I know this must all seem quite dark. I am not doing it for the sake of it. I just feel this is part of the journey.

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