Replies then Update.
First of all, my apologies for getting behind schedule. Life happened… and it's still happening, so I suspect that I'm going to be dropping my weekly schedule until after May 13 or so. Sporadic updates may occur, life permitting.
As a consolation measure (because I am just egotistical enough to think people may be disappointed by the delay), I'll have another couple of sketches up soon.
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inspiron- Every time I type your name, I imagine one of those announcer voices saying something along the lines of "Inspiron! A force of justice in a troubled time!" or some such. ^_^
The way I've described magic here, you realize, is taken through the filter of Tara's perception on the matter. She's very focused on the interrelation and effects of what she does, plus she's looking at it all from a very mysticism-friendly viewpoint. Willow, even if she had more than 2 years of study under her belt, would describe things far differently… using the vocabulary that best shows her insight into the matter- which would likely stem from the hard sciences (in fact, I once put together a Lil Willow's Guide to Magic cartoon sequence in which she does a Powerpoint show on how she sees it).
Would the spell have worked under other conditions? Maybe. Willow's constant attempts to streamline the casting process may also have something to do with it… which are justified, given the conditions under which she needs sometimes needs to cast.
The next chapter addresses a potential solution… one that readers have brought up several times now. The post following that will deal with the results of that. (Vague enough for ya?)
TZep- I loved having you for storytime again… As much joy as your analyses bring me, I will never complain about when or how often you choose to give them. Quality, not frequency (I'd say quantity, but I appreciate the length at which you are willing to write to provide me with your insights).
My reply to the message above is taking a while- I'd rather do it properly than brush off what you've discussed. I must ask your indulgence for the delay, but I will respond fully sometime between this post and the next.
And now, my longest section to date...
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Ch 15
Angst Level: Overall, higher than Sharon den Adel's vocal range (whom I regularly fracture my voice trying to sing along with in the car). This chapter is moderate, building higher toward the end.
It had been a long, strange night, Willow reflected as she leaned against one of the carefully spaced shade trees in the UC Sunnydale main quad. Basking in seventy-two degrees of wall-to-wall sunshine didn't quite dispel the incongruous feeling of jet lag that always followed one of those nights. Strangely enough, she hadn't really felt any worse this morning for the bare three hours of sleep she'd gotten than the prior morning after eight. Whatever residual dearth of energy had existed then must have recovered, only to be replaced by the aftereffects of a crazy Tuesday night. Not just normal crazy either, but chock full of crazy- crazy hospital people, a crazy people-killing, goo-spewing bug monster, a half-crazy Mrs. Summers making Buffy half crazy and Dawn mostly freaked.
They'd tried to keep Buffy out of it. After she and Tara had seen the meteor crash, she'd made the calls to everyone else. They had skills… it wasn't like they needed Buffy for everything. They'd done the legwork- found the identity of the monster, found the reason it was there, but after running their handy locator spell on some Qweller goo, leaving Buffy out of it had turned out to be a non-option. It would have been too much to try to sneak into her house and take out the monster without bothering her- though Willow had suggested it anyway. So in the end: Buffy kill bad guy, roll the credits, everyone to bed... only to wake up three hours later to a beeping alarm clock that was surely in league with the forces of darkness.
Next quarter Willow had made sure that there were no early Wednesday classes on her schedule- even though it meant putting off the Latin course she kept meaning to take. Again.
Giles had said something about a Qweller having to be summoned, which spelled badness lingering in Sunnydale. Badness lingering meant more tracking, which meant more not-study-time and more not-researching-to-help-Tara. It was sad to think about it this way, but now that she knew she was a viable Succubus Snack the lack of progress on that front was a little less distressing. For once the Hellmouth was pulling for her, not against.
The revelation- yet unproven, but now that she'd thought of it, almost certainly true- had been bittersweet. Magic was just one of her useful skills, and probably the least reliable, but it was one of the few things she could do that had an appreciable 'wow' factor. Nobody appreciated the programs that she'd built over long hours, the back doors she'd carefully constructed over the past 4 years in so many of the city's systems, the frustration when those were found and shut, as they inevitably were. It was slow, methodical, heavy on preparation and worst of all, movies and TV made it look easy. Get some info from the DoD? Can you have it by lunch, Willow, or is an hour too little? What do you mean, you can't get into the hospital records- you did it last month. They didn't understand, but they thought they did. After all, if it only took Kate Libby ten minutes, what was taking her so long?
Magic wasn't like that. Those who understood it knew enough to realize the magnitude of what she was doing. Those who didn't at least saw the sparkliness and the instant gratification. And when it failed? There was no having to look up and say "sorry, this code right here means I can't do anything more" and see the disappointment in their eyes. The bleeding and pain were no fun, but they were plain to see- evidence enough to scream "I tried- I did my best" loud enough that anyone could realize her effort for what it was.
Tara made it look so easy. The waylaid light from the night before was the first spell since the Floating Rose to escape her, and Willow was fairly sure it was for the same reason. Not only did she manage to mess herself up, but the inertia had pulled Tara's usually infallible spellwork down with her. Two strikes for Rosenberg. And not being able to let Buffy spend a quiet night with her mom after early patrol? Way to go.
Even with a head start in the mojo department, what good was she doing? A few rituals- all of which Tara was more than capable of performing. She didn't have the repertoire of invocations needed to be really useful on patrol- and without Tara's stabilizing touch, even those were iffy. The in-between-ies were still Tara's realm. Yes, Willow had more push, but knowing about the Hellmouthy influence cheapened that power she had managed to acquire. Without that push, would she ever have persevered through those first pencil pushing days? Before she could even raise it?
How had Tara done it? She'd said her first telekinetic nudge had been in sixth grade, with over a year before she could move anything heavier than a leaf. She still had trouble with anything artificial- a distinction that Willow didn't really understand. Even plastic was just oil, which was just dead plant processed by both time and man. 'Natural' was a very relative concept. Besides which, force applied to an object didn't care what the object was. It just pushed.
Speaking of pushing, she'd had an interesting idea of how to help Tara with the Sector O' Smut-worthiness. It wouldn't do anything for their own issues with it- the very reason they'd adjourned to separate rooms despite the temptation of post-squicky-monster comfort-type snuggles. Not to be mistaken with snugglies, which was the problem. Contact precautions were in effect again, and that was getting old, fast. Wear the charm, no more disinhibited naughty urges- beyond what was normal and healthy and didn't really warrant blushing every time she thought about them- but also a moratorium on even innocuous touchy feely-ness. Take it off and she still had to keep her distance, and worry just how much of her normal and healthy feelings were normal and healthy.
"There ain't no justice." She declared conversationally to the quad in general. Luckily the quad chose to prove her wrong, with Tara coming into view, smiling as their eyes met. Then the quad decided to stick it to her and she noticed the noticing going on around Tara, which said girlfriend ignoring to the point that it was blatantly obvious just how uncomfortably aware of it she was. Willow twitched as a hacky sack 'accidently' arced over, startling Tara as it plunked against her shoulder. Blonde dreadlocks bounced like jellyfish tendrils behind a mushroom cap of red, gold, and green. She couldn't see the face of the poor hopeful as he took the 'convenient' opportunity to strike up a conversation, which was probably just as well. Tara ducked her head, curling up under the attention like seaweed in the sun… and that image was just not doing it. Hermit crab? Maybe, since she was sort of scuttling sideways to bypass her latest admirer. A hermit crab with a very pretty shell. Willow nodded. It would do.
"Hey." She greeted Tara as her girlfriend sat down with a faded smile. "I was wondering what I should do if he kept following you."
"I was wondering myself." Tara murmured as she glanced back to check for pursuit. "At least he was nice about it."
"Did he offer you a 'special brownie'?" The redhead asked brightly, not wanting to dwell on 'nice' being different from the other encounters.
"Lunch at that vegan place on Munroe, actually." Tara furrowed her brow in mild consternation, "Do I have a tattoo on my forehead that says 'vegetarian' or something?"
Willow remembered with a flash of guilt that she'd been under the same impression once. Tara must have noticed, immediately looking contrite for her words and falling silent. She shifted off her knees to sit in a sort of sidesaddle pose that made it evident that her tail was not cooperating with her attempts to keep it gone when in public. "I tried it for about a month in high school- but in retrospect I think it was mostly to bug my mom. Have you ever thought about it?"
Tara shook her head, expression carefully distant, "Dad didn't truck with the idea- he works for a bunch of ranches and some of the little ones would pay him in livestock, so meat was pretty much a constant at home." She opened her pack and pulled out a couple of submarine type sandwiches with the cafeteria label on them, "On that note, meatball or turkey?"
"Ooo- still toasty. Turkey, please." The redhead realized that she'd completely forgotten about eating, for all that 'see you at lunch on the quad' sort of implied mutual food consumption.
Tara handed it over, but jerked back as their fingers brushed. The sandwich, thankfully still wrapped, fell to the grass and both cringed.
"Sorry! Are you okay?" Willow caught herself reaching for the hand, her reaction to check for injury aborted as her brain caught up with her. With a self-censuring growl, she grabbed for the knot that held her protective charm to her wrist. Whatever she ended up feeling from Tara's Field O' Horniness, it would be easier to deal with than this hands-off policy that selectively punished the innocent party.
"No- keep it on. It just… startled me." Tara sounded bitter, not meeting Willow's eyes as she spoke and rubbing her hand against her side. Frustration crept through a breach in her calm into the low, tight words meant only for herself, "God- why can't I control this? I had to leave History- people were getting…" She trailed off in a stressed exhalation, closing her eyes tightly for a moment. When she opened them, it was as if the emotion had been washed away, leaving only a dull acceptance.
"There is a solution, you know." Willow offered cheerfully, scooping up the sandwich and peeling the paper open. No peppers, lotsa mayo and pickles galore- Tara must have known she'd take this one. She kept an eye on Tara's reaction as she started eating. Her girlfriend hadn't responded, but her hands lay limp in her lap now, holding her sandwich there more by their presence than by intentional grip.
"It's too soon… y-you can't miss class again tomorrow."
At least she'd considered the suggestion. That was better than the last time.
"I can, actually- I won't pretend I'm thrilled by the idea of missing lab, but it's better than suppressing the urge to throttle all the creep-azoids that keep hitting on you." She'd meant it to be a joke, but by Tara's concerned glance, she'd let her own tension seep through.
"Will…"
"I know- stupid to feel threatened- not like you're going to say yes- you aren't, right?" That got her an incredulous look. "But it bugs you, which means it bugs me. And I'm not a fan of bugs- even pill bugs, after last night- so…"
"I can deal with the… people." Tara started listlessly unwrapping her sandwich.
"Mm-" Willow perked up, mouth too full of toasted turkey sub to speak, but establishing her intent in the seconds it took to chew. "I remembered something that might help- from one of your books, actually."
Tara raised her eyebrows, listening as she bit into the messy, sauce-laden sandwich she held. Willow was certain there was some kind of cantrip she used to keep it from dripping all over her- the inevitable result when the redhead braved any sandwich that fought back.
"My pronunciation is going to be heinous here, but I think it was called 'In Voller Sicht Versteckt'?" Indeed, to her own ears her words sounded a little like she was coughing up a hairball. "In the crumbly ochre one on the bottom shelf, with all the itty bitty written in translations in the margins? And can I mention again just how nice it is that your relatives didn't use eponyms for their spells?" At Tara's passing grin, she continued, "So- I know it's meant for hiding stuff, but what if we could do it on, well, you? Do you think that being magically uninteresting would keep the wanna-be players away?"
Tara chewed on the idea along with her food. "I don't know… if you're actually looking for the thing, it doesn't work…"
"But that's the beauty of it- if they don't know to look for you, you'll just… get passed by. And class? Raise your hand and the prof sees you, but till you do- they won't even realize you're there. It's perfect!" Willow realized she was bouncing and tried to curb her enthusiasm- mature college students do not bounce. She settled for a happy wriggle. Remembering the spell had been such a coup. The idea was to be able to leave valuables in the open, protected, but to those who knew they were there, not invisible. More… unobtrusive. Invisible had bad memories of Marcy and, more recently, of Tara's panicked spell of selective blinding- plus the 'requires a coven of at least five' was a bit of a deterrent.
"But on a person…?"
"It should be OK for classes, crowds- in a little room it wouldn't do any good, but… maybe we can look at it? Later?"
Tara's eyes focused on something behind Willow and her reluctance evaporated, "Right after class."
Happy, but a bit surprised Willow looked up as a shadow fell over her. The figure causing it was a heavy set guy in jeans and a Halo T-shirt, shifting from nervously and clearing his throat before starting what must have been a speech he'd rehearsed a half dozen times before working up to trying it.
"Yo- Tyra, right? I sat next to you in History today…"
The blonde sighed, wilting, but with a studied politeness listened to Joe Schmoe without bothering to correct him. Willow geared up to help make clear just how unwelcome Joe was, fingers twitching with the brief fantasy of choking the living daylights out of him, any appetite she had departing in the face of potential public confrontation. Setting a public example might buy then ten or twelve minutes of uninterrupted peace… but that set off a bout of cold sweat at the thought of all those people Looking and Judging and maybe making a big, loud example really wasn't the best choice. Tara would be mortified. Yes, that was the reason she was going to steam quietly and hope that Mr. Third Wheel would glance in her direction. Then he could benefit from the Glare of Death that Willow was getting too much practice with lately.
She waited. She listened. She watched like a hawk for any cue from Tara that a thorough, albeit discreet, verbal dressing down of Romeo would be welcomed, and not regarded as abusing a person whom her girlfriend saw as a victim. She seethed in silence, and she waited.
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Tara sat on the mats in the back of the Magic Box, which had a lingering stench of sulfur and rosemary, trying her best to concentrate on the French Revolution. It was one of the more exciting parts of history- danger, intrigue, burning of irreplaceable artwork- but her mind refused to cooperate. It instead chose to linger on that constant inner burn and her burgeoning sense of futility.
Her initial attempts with Willow on the obfuscation spell had gone without hitch; the bobble-head Einstein they had chosen for the trial run still sat in plain sight on the Magic Box display case, defying Anya to notice and remove it. Flush with success, she and Willow had gone to try the spell on herself. There had been one little oversight; to be the object of the spell, Tara couldn't be a part of casting it. The spell was designed with a single caster in mind, but to use it on a human-sized target there was just too much power involved for one person to handle without coming up with some kind of ritual to back it.
Willow had wanted to try anyway, with her usual 'if I try hard enough, it will work' conviction. Tara had managed to talk her out of it only by promising that if they didn't figure something out by night, she would concede to her girlfriend's desire to repeat the 'traditional method' to solve her problem. She'd been well on her way to despondence when Willow had added a correlate; if they did find an answer, she was expecting celebratory snugglies. And if it were a partial answer? Both traditional and celebratory snugglies.
It never ceased to amaze her how her girlfriend could rouse her out of depression, whether with irrefutable logic or incomprehensible silliness. She'd never have believed when she left home that she would ever hear someone make the words Energizer Bunny sound sexy.
If only the feeling would last.
Tara shifted on her perch again, trying to get comfortable before her tail went numb again. Anya had wanted her to stay out in the main Magic Box, ideally near the front window so that they could use the Draw to bring in customers. She had been certain that Tara could make them a fortune by selling overpriced trinkets to potential admirers, citing the tendency of besotted men to apply money to gain a girl's favor.
Needless to say, Willow had not approved of the idea. It had been all Tara could do to both stave off the potentially very vocal refusal and diplomatically decline Anya's suggestion before retiring to the back room.
"How's it going?"
Willow came in from the main shop, her look conflicted. Tara put aside her book, still on the same page as half an hour ago, and slid down from her the mat stack. Her tail thanked her for the return in circulation by tingling unpleasantly.
"Slow. You?"
"Good enough. Xander came by a minute ago to pick up Anya and he had an idea." The redhead smirked. "Yeah, I know- Xander. Idea. But it's one of those just-crazy-enough-that-it-might-work kind of ideas. Like, one of those things you dismiss because, duh, not gonna work- but when we talked about it, it just might. Except for the part where it's crazy-" It sounded like Willow was going to keep going with the prevarication until she was stopped.
"What was it?" She might go for crazy at this point. Just seeing Willow, fidgeting in her corduroys and pastel blue Cheer Bear T-shirt, was stoking that distracting burn into a more heated yearning. If it had been a more appropriate desire, she'd have been happier, but it was more of a nummy-still-warm-cookie-in-front-of-you feeling.
"He'll explain in a sec- Anya wouldn't let him come back here till he got the other charm from Giles." Willow seemed chagrined at even the mention of that necessity.
"Hey! How's my favorite seductress?"
The sound of Xander's cheerful exuberance almost made up for his phrasing. Tara managed a wane smile in return, which was more than could be said of Willow's blatant consternation. Xander back peddled quickly, "And I mean that in the most non-red light district, committed relationship way imaginable."
"Brilliant plan?" Willow prompted.
"Yeah! See, it's this thing- I was thinking about you and Buffy." He paused for just a moment too long and Willow swatted his arm. "And then it hit me- you bit her, right?"
Tara ducked her head, nodding.
"And that let you do your thing, right?"
She furrowed her brow, but heard no hint of castigation in his tone. Do her 'thing'? "I didn't intend to…" She trailed off at Willow's look of encouragement, her hands itching to reach out for that support.
"But that worked for you, right?" Xander again prompted her for confirmation.
"Not for her, though…" Tara shook her head, seeing several possible places this could be going and liking none of them. "If it h-hadn't been Buffy… Xander, I could have killed her."
"See- that's the thing- what if it was someone who really deserved it?" Turning to pace in a caricature of the classic Sherlock Holmes, Xander started to lead her toward his proposition.
"No one deserves to die. A-and who gets to judge?" She was left wondering how Willow could have even entertained this line of thought. She crossed her arms over her belly and the uncomfortable fire within it.
Willow rushed to explain, reaching out, but stopping short of punishing touch. "He means-"
"Spike!" Xander spun back towards her, making his point with dramatic flourish.
"-vampires," Willow finished flatly, shooting him a glare of vexation.
Tara stopped her mental retreat, glancing back up to the two Scoobies. Xander was maintaining his pose in proud expectation of approval, while Willow looked more tentatively hopeful. She should have known that they wouldn't have suggested murder. Although she couldn't imagine doing anything to Spike- he was brutal, irascible, contemptuous, but strangely protective in his own obstinate way… and surprisingly well read. Vampires might be basically evil, but as comfortable as she was hearing about the 'dusting' adventures of Willow and the others, she wasn't sure that she could hold their life in her hands and knowingly extinguish it. Even if it was an unnatural life.
"They're going to go poof anyway, so it's efficient. Like, if you're going to kill the cow, isn't it better to use it for burgers and seat covers than just saying "yay, dead cow" because of the inherent evil of, uh, cows? I think I derailed that, but they always made it sound like the Indians were really virtuous for using the whole animal and not wasting the sacrifice," Despite the wavering confidence of her words, Willow punctuated her statement on a pleading, "and the irony is a plus."
"Irony- good for the soul and prevents anemia too," Xander concurred with an overly serious nod.
Again, the logic was there. Would it be so different to kill a vampire than to kill a chicken? Her father had always been the one to do the deed, but there had been little question as to the origins of the chickens handed over to be plucked and prepared, or of the split pig strung up by its hind legs, waiting to be butchered. She wanted to say that the death of a self-aware creature was different than an animal, but what defined self-awareness? Pigs were smart, social, sensitive creatures. Yes, they would happily drink the blood if their fellow's throat was slit- and frequently did, when one was pulled for slaughter…
But this wasn't a pig. This was a vampire. A creature who reveled in the pain and misery of others… in theory. Spike didn't do that, other than the occasional mocking remark and professing of his own evilness. Still, she couldn't form a proper rebuttal. Her objections were purely emotional and, she had to admit, based more than a little on her apprehension regarding how that encounter would play out. It seemed a bit farfetched to think vampire would be so obliging as to sit quietly and wait to be bitten- and what if it behaved like Buffy had? Vampires were evil- they wouldn't hesitate.
"H-how…" She tried to figure out how to voice her concerns, but came up blank.
"You have to go home- you can't just stay here all night!" The training room door swung open forcefully and Buffy entered in a fit of pique, her comments shot rapid-fire over her shoulder at an equally irate Dawn.
"She called me a thing!"
"You know she doesn't mean that… look, Giles going to be there in like, an hour, to do the tea and crumpets thing with her till I get home- it's not like anything's going to happen."
"Right- no big roach monsters on the ceiling trying to kill us."
Neither sister seemed to have noticed the others in the room yet, focused entirely on each other.
"You're going home, and that's final!"
Dawn's eyes narrowed further and there was a momentary question whether the building tirade would fulminate or fizzle. She realized they had an audience and raised her chin stubbornly, stating with absolute loathing, "Fine!" She spun and stomped off.
"Hey Buff-Stuff! Can we get your input here?" Xander draped his arm over the practice dummy as if it were a long-time friend.
"Oh. Hey." Buffy blinked and refocused. She had a pair of stakes in her hands from the supply box and slid them into her jacket as she approached. Tara forcibly kept herself from stepping away, giving a brief smile of greeting.
"Do you think you'd be able to capture a vamp for us?" Willow asked without preamble.
"I've heard they make lousy pets," she was cautioned with a smirk. "Impossible to house break, for one thing."
"Though I bet PETA wouldn't give you any hassle if you decided to use'm for experiments." Xander countered.
"You know, I'd hoped PETA would shut down the Initiative for us after Adam took over… that would have been nice." Buffy shrugged. "Why'd you ask?"
"Well, there's this theory- we were thinking about how vampires can survive on pig blood and avoid all the messy human problems- so, what if Tara could survive off vampires?" Willow looked nervously back to Tara, as if waiting to be scolded. "Not in the smoochy-feedy sense, but more the arrrg-chomp."
Buffy rubbed at the heel of her hand, where the skin was mostly healed, but still showed signs of the wound it had sustained. She flexed it a few times as she spoke, "I guess. I mean, I can't exactly bring one home in a doggie bag, but if you guys wanna come with? I bet I could hold one down for a couple of seconds."
"On patrol?" Tara looked up in surprise. While Willow hadn't really tried to keep her out of that particular aspect of the 'Scooby lifestyle', she'd implied more than once that she'd rather keep Tara out of that arena. For all her guilt over the choice, Tara had never questioned that, content to stay on the less glamorous, though safer, side of Scooby-age.
"Sure- why not?" Buffy didn't seem to think anything of it, but Willow broke in,
"Wait! Why? We can bring one back here! Knock it out," The redhead pantomimed a karate chop, "o-or a net? Or- oh! Chains! We chained up Spike pretty well in Giles bathroom- that should work! Does Riley still have one of those stun-guns? Practical and humane-"
"-says the girl who wouldn't let me stop her from patrolling with me?" Buffy arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow.
Tara realized where this was coming from- to capture a vampire, bring it here, then go back out to finish patrol would keep her away from home that much longer. With her mother undergoing major surgery in less than two days, these hours were too precious to squander.
"It would be easier to go with her, wouldn't it?" Tara looked to Willow, who seemed to be debating an argument with Buffy or going with the idea. Her words tipped the scales and after a momentary tight annoyance, her girlfriend was beaming at her.
"Yeah! It'll be great!" Willow's eyes shone with newfound enthusiasm. "It's not exactly a thrill-a-minute, but you can see the poofing! You haven't seen a real poof yet, have you?"
Tara shook her head. It hadn't been on her list of things to do this morning, but she might have missed it.
"Almost as good as the fireworks at Disneyland- but for different reasons." Xander noted, which was confirmed by Willow's emphatic nod.
"You coming, too?"
"He is not," Anya's voice rang out from the doorway. "We're going to be rocking the casbah tonight and he smells funny after patrol."
"And on that note, ladies." With a wave Xander headed for the door. "Have fun."
"Wait- can you give Dawn a ride h- oh, never mind." Buffy sighed. "God, what is it with little sisters?"
"It's our rebellious streak."
Buffy glanced at Tara's guileless features, wavering whether she was joking or not before looking to Willow for a cue. The redhead's eyes betrayed her mirth, but she kept an equally serious tone, "That's my girl, alright- flouting authority willy-nilly."
The Slayer relaxed slightly. "Right. I totally pegged you for the delinquent. Sordid past full of little-sisterly acts of contempt. Seriously though- it's gonna be at least an hour and a half by the time I get her home and detach myself from the whining."
"No problem- Tara should probably catch a nap first anyway, after being up with the bug thing all last night."
"Sorry you guys had to run all over- what's with all the insane-os showing up? Any clue?"
"Nope. Not even the right time for a full moon official lunacy effect- but we know the Qweller was definitely summoned."
"So now we have not only infectious schizophrenia, we have someone trying to get them killed?"
"That's the long and short of it."
Tara only half listened to the exchange. Another long night, then. It made her tired just thinking about it, but they couldn't wait. The burn inside was telling her that and by all indications the Draw was going to be entirely unmanageable by morning.
"So I'll see you at Restfield around nine-thirty, ten-ish?" Buffy was slowly heading toward the door, evidencing no great enthusiasm for shepherding her sister. "I'll call right before I leave, 'kay?"
"Sounds good-ish. We'll probably just hang out here… it's getting dicey back at the dorm with the…" Willow made an airy gesture.
"The people mackin' on your Honey?" Buffy suggested.
"Something like that." Willow's face was cheerful, but her voice was strained, bordering on contentious. "You'd know how it is even better than I would."
Buffy didn't respond, but neither did she wither from the words. When her eyes met Tara's, the witch only shook her head to the silently offered apology. Accepting that, the Slayer turned and headed into the main shop, yelling. "Dawn- we're leaving!"
"God- tell the whole block, why don't you." There was the sound of the front bell, with Dawn's fading words, "is it bad that I don't even know what a casbah is, but I know exactly what Anya was talking about?"
"And by 'exactly', you mean the vague, non-detailed sense-" The door shut, blocking further conversation.
Willow sighed, her characteristic vibrancy sloughing away once her audience had departed. Tara wanted so much to simply hold her for a moment in silent support, but was left to just standing awkwardly with her tail lashing in unspoken concern behind her. She didn't bother trying to still it now that it was down to the two of them- the thing had a mind of its own when she was agitated.
"Study more or try to catch a snooze before tonight?" Her girlfriend looked to her for direction. "I was gonna help Giles close up- maybe look around a little more on the Qweller thing."
"I'm not getting anything out of reading right now." Tara wished she had it in her to tell Willow to let it go and take the chance to rest, but that was her own selfishness speaking. She might be able to set it all aside, but her girlfriend wouldn't find any peace until at least one of the mysteries hounding them had been resolved. She could feel the toll it took when the group floundered- Willow seemed to feel her role was in bridging between Mr. Giles' archival knowledge and the immediate situations they found themselves in- the theoretical and practical. When neither offered her a foothold to work from, she felt the responsibility of letting them down on both fronts. It was an untenable position that she tried to hold, but Willow applied the same attitude to it that she applied to everything else; if I try hard enough, it will work out.
That was what made school such a comfort. The rules applied. Effort was rewarded and structure could be counted on.
"You really should try to nap then- patrol is cool but... it is dangerous. I can give you the do's and don'ts on the way there." Willow's enthusiasm was more muted now, the effort of maintaining the facade beginning to break down. She read something in Tara's eyes and turned quickly toward the main shop, "I'll wake you up when Buffy calls, 'kay?"
"Will you be alright without resting?"
"Fine… I'll be fine." Willow shot her a worn grin. "Lotsa practice."
As exciting as the prospect of patrolling was, Tara had no doubt that she could sleep. Whatever endless wellspring of energy seemed to fuel Willow was a mystery- what fatigue she was showing was entirely emotional. It was hard to be the source of that emotional turmoil, for it made her girlfriend that much less willing to reveal it and that much more defensive on the few attempts she'd made to address it. She sighed, sliding back on the mats into a reasonably comfortable curl, head cushioned on her arm.
"Lookit what I found in the bargain bin!" Willow popped her head back in before waving a gaudily ornamented throw pillow. "From when Dawnie spilled her nail polish last week- remember?"
Tara nodded, catching the pillow that was lobbed toward her. She suddenly realized something, "Did the burbur root come in?"
"Not yet. As soon as it does I was going to whip up a few more of the charms… you don't mind?" Again, the conflict of sensitivity and known need passed across her girlfriend's features.
"I thought there were only three?"
"There are."
"But…" Tara tried to think of a way to say what she needed to without revealing more than was necessary. She tried, "Buffy has one, you have one, and the other is getting passed around."
"Xander handed it off to Giles when he left." The redhead blinked, brow furrowing.
"Dawnie didn't have one?"
"No… and she wasn't affected…" Willow followed her line of thought but her face cleared as she dismissed it, "-but that just kinda confirms that her crushing on the guys at her school isn't just a phase."
There was more to it than that, but again she was faced with how much to say. The last time the Draw had been this strong she'd been locked away in her warded room, only coming in contact with Buffy… For better or worse, she'd been insulated from most of the symptoms.
Willow should know, she decided, if for no other reason than to understand why Tara had spent much of the afternoon examining the ground as she walked. Embarrassment was a personal failing, and what she'd learned could be important.
"It's… more than that." She braced herself for Willow's reaction. "Her aura- it's hidden. The same as yours, Buffy's, and Xander's were."
"You looked?" Willow was more confused than upset, though her disquiet was clear. "You were looking? Just at the auras o-or…"
"No!" Now came the harder part. "Sort of. I… You know how when you're hungry, it seems like you can smell something cooking from a mile away?"
Willow was curling her arms around herself defensively, "And we're all walking bags of piping hot popcorn."
"I can't not see it. Not since around three this afternoon." She closed her eyes, hugging the pillow to her.
The glimpses from absolute strangers were bad enough, but she'd also gotten an eyeful from Mr. Giles from across the shop. She'd assumed he would have the charm, but it turned out that Anya had taken custody. There were some things you just didn't want to know about some people- that you shouldn't know… but what is seen cannot be unseen.
"So it's not just the Draw that's kept you back here…" Willow wasn't looking at her, still looking unsettled and a little hurt. The redhead cocked an eyebrow uncertainly. "Maybe there's a 'No Minors' clause?"
Tara shook her head morosely, wishing it were so. "The auras are there, but the images are hazier the younger they are."
"Ew." Willow wrinkled her nose. "So, like, twelve-year-olds?"
"But not Dawn."
A pause lengthened and Willow started pacing, the gears of her brain visibly starting to churn. Before she could start hypothesizing, Tara added her last concern, "There are others I can't see…"
"The genuinely uninterested, yeah, which I think we can cross off in someone who chooses her movies based on the 'stud-muffin' factor. Unless she's fronting. Do you think she's fronting?" Willow rode the line between hopeful and disappointed, but Tara shook her head, not shrinking away from the potential implications of her final suspicion,
"I can't see an aura unless they're human, Will."
"But it's Dawnie! Annoying sometimes, yes, but inhuman? Wouldn't you have noticed the aura thing before?"
"There was never a reason to look."
"Then Buffy- she gets ooky when she's around supernatural stuff."
"She's been really upset, with her mom and all… she could have missed it." She sighed. "I don't know what it means."
"Something replaced Dawn?" Alarm was starting to filter through, "She- or 'it'- it could be after Buffy! We've got to-"
"We have to know something before we start throwing accusations at her sister… it's less than two days till her mother's surgery."
"Maybe try the general demon finder spell again? See if there's a dot on Buffy's house?"
"I don't know how far we can trust that- it didn't show us where Glory is."
"We should talk to Giles… maybe he can do something to check when he goes over there tonight."
Tara nodded, sliding back down and following Willow back to the main shop. Mr. Giles was about to head out, jacket on and keys in hand.
"Giles- can you hold up for a minute? This is kinda important, potential major issue type stuff..."
"Of course." He tucked the keys back in his pocket.
"It's about Dawn… does she seem, I dunno, different?"
Tara watched Willow squirm, wanting to just lay out everything she knew and see whether Mr. Giles could make it less worrisome. She wouldn't though, not if it meant sharing that invasive aspect of Tara's ability.
"Different?" Mr. Giles' glasses shone, the reflected light from the back room masking his expression for a moment.
"She… we think she's been replaced by something. A not-human something. We don't know what, or why, and… and you look very unsurprised by all of this." Willow shifted gears instantly from concern to hesitant confusion.
Mr. Giles removed his glasses, examining them thoughtfully, but not moving to polish them, "It's not for me to say, really… but there is no cause for concern."
"But Buffy needs to know! And we need to figure out what it is- what to do."
"You already know." Tara said softly.
"Yes." Giles confessed just as quietly, replacing his glasses.
"If it's not for you to say, who does get to say?"
"Buffy." Tara answered this time, looking for confirmation from Giles and received it.
"Buffy's in on it, too?" Now it was betrayal in Willow's voice.
"If it were dangerous, they would have said something." Tara tried not to give away her growing suspicion, but Willow seemed to have already reached the same conclusion,
"It's… it's the Key, isn't it. You sent her somewhere and replaced her with the Key!" Willow's wide eyed accusation fell on an entirely impassive Watcher.
"No." Tara hugged her arms around herself. As if the world weren't complicated enough. "She is the Key."
"And somehow this never came up?!"
"You should speak to Buffy-" Mr. Giles reiterated.
"Buffy has kept this quiet for four plus years! You bet I'm going to speak to her-" Willow fumed, hands clenching.
"We can't. Not yet… her mother…"
"Dawn doesn't know." The Watcher seemed to have reached some sort of decision. "Buffy brought the information to me as soon as she knew, and she made the decision- Dawn cannot find out. The Key… it's millions of years old, but it's only been here in Sunnydale for a matter of months."
"But… if she's always been the Key…" Willow looked back at her for an answer, but Tara had none to offer.
"What we remember- it's been created. All of it. The monks that had protected the Key were annihilated by Glory, but before they were, they transmuted it into human form, sent it here, and created the entire history of… Dawn."
"And we've all been jerked around by this? Two minutes ago I was scared to death that something had hurt Dawn and taken her place, and now you tell me she didn't even exist until a couple of months ago?"
"Oh Dawn…" Tara felt her chest constrict as she thought about it. "She's going to find out- one way or another, she will."
"But until that time, Buffy has asked that she not be told." Mr. Giles fixed his eyes on Willow, firm, but not harsh, "I trust you can respect that."
"But… but…" Willow looked so lost. "How can we know what's real, if we can't even trust what we remember?"
"We can't. Everything we experience is a memory, in a way. Dawn is really Buffy's sister, for all intents and purposes, and always has been in every way that counts."
"She n-needs to know what she is," Tara tried to voice just how important that was, and only succeeded in breaking her words, "she needs to know from someone that loves her, before she finds out for herself."
"Whether I agree or not is of no consequence… Buffy has made the choice. In deference to her situation, I would ask that you wait until after the surgery to question her judgment directly." Again, Mr. Giles' words were stern, but his countenance understanding.
Willow was shaking minutely, seeming to use every muscle at once to force herself into a sort of calm. She nodded stiffly once, turned heel and headed back toward the training room without a word.
Tara lingered for a moment, watching a moment more before returning to Mr. Giles' face. His concern was plain, but the verdict was unchanged.
"She has to know… but we'll wait." She looked toward the back room again. "Willow won't hold out long, but we'll wait."
"I know… and it's probably for the best." There was a jingle from his key-ring. "I'd best be off."
"Goodnight."
"Be careful tonight…" He seemed to want to say more, but closed the door behind him without saying more.
Tara took a long breath, looking inward for the calm she needed. Willow would need to vent, would need compassion, but she also needed to find some kind of reconciliation with Buffy's decision before they met the Slayer in just over an hour. She raised her head and walked back toward the training room, shedding her own misgivings as she readied herself for the task ahead.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>TBC
Preview, Ch 16
Next time on Changes: Be vewy qwiet. We'a huntin' wampaiyaz...
Need I say more?
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