Title: A Champion's Destiny.
Author: Jennpurr
Feedback: I would love feedback. Whatever comes to your mind.
E-mail: jennpurr@yaho.com
Spoiler Warning: There are really no spoilers for this. The setting takes place after Season 7. I have not followed the Season 8 comics, so they have no place here.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters listed in this story. They belong to Joss Whedon and his own creation. However, Darrian Creed is my creation and solely mine.
Rating: PG.
Author's Notes: As of right now, this is all I have written for this. If you want me to write more and continue with this, please inform me so I know. Having said that, updates may be slow. I am dealing with alot in my life at the moment, so I will ask for your patience.
[center]
A Champion's Destiny.
Chapter 1.
by Jennpurr.[/center]
The musky aroma of the air stained the streets of LA. With every splatter of water that hit the sidewalks and pavement of the blackened roads, the water puddles were dissected, only to form together again short moments later. The pitter patter of the rain drops clanged off the nearby metal awning that rested off the abandoned gas station rooftop. To follow the building around to the west, one would see a small alcove, protected from the rain, but the gentle breeze carrying it, still whispered across the skin of the young woman nestled there. Sitting sideways, her legs were pulled up to her chest, knees bent. The side of her head rested on the wall of the building she took shelter against. Her eyes were lethargic, only moving every now and then to force the blinks that visited, to their peak.
Tara watched the cars drive by on the lonely street and with each one that left her presence, a deeper ache of loneliness filled her. It was excruciating, but there was nothing that could be done. The world she had once known, was no more. Sunnydale was nothing but a wasteland. Her once home, filled with warmth and love, given so freely by Willow and her friends, was all but memories. They were the only grasps of reality that she had left, and even that was falling away, forced onto her shoulders by the depression that was claiming her mind. Never had she imagined anything to be like this. She was all but forgotten, the only link she had to this cruel existence was Darrian, the gentle and strong angel that had helped her to reclaim her life once more. Then there was Angel. In many ways he had become her guardian, showing her and guiding her through each new step she took, day after day.
The life of a vampire was one that she was learning was not all it was cracked up to be. The trials that marked each day that she completed, only grew more tedious. One sacrifice after the other. One rule after the next. Time was not the same for her anymore. Her life now would be continuous. There would be no death. There would be no release, even in the despairing hours where she wished her life could end. What she faced now was eternity and no mere stake or sword could take that away from her. The mark that was forever tattooed into the skin of the underside of her right wrist, a mark of the angel who gave her back her life, would be her salvation. For with it, nothing could take her life. She could be hurt and wounded, but within mere moments or hours, the practicalities of such attacks would disappear.
How could an angel, that she had never met, never even knew of, care enough to give her a second chance? His faith in her, while warming and comforting, was often overwhelming. It was at moments such as now, that the young woman would wish for her death, over and over again. No matter how many times she may plead for it however, it would never come. For as long as the mark remained or as long as her angel walked the earth, she would be free from death. So how was it that she was now forced to live with a demon inside of her? The demon may have taken her body, but it would never take her soul. That was one of the guarantees from the mark as well. A life where the demon would not force her to live as evil. Even knowing that though, she still felt as if she were a monster. There was no way to describe the pain or frustration.
A whip of wind caressed her cheek and as it soared past her face, the scent of a familiar man filled her senses. He was worried, wondering where she had wandered off to. He still could not step into the sunlight, but that was a fortune that was thrown on her shoulders. She knew he was jealous of it, but he would never admit to it. Still, she owed him her life and now it was time to rejoin the few that had befriended her and taken her in. They were the only family that she had now and she was starting to wonder if this is where she would spend the rest of her undead life. No. There had to be somewhere else. There had to be... Willow. She needed the redhead like she needed blood to live. There was no denying that. She could sense her everywhere, every minute of her days. She was alive, surviving and that was all that Tara needed to know. She needed her friends: Buffy, Xander, Mr. Giles, Dawnie. She missed them all more then she could fathom.
Lifting her head from the dirty, red, brick colored stoned wall, she pushed her shoulder against it and gave herself leverage. She stood fairly easily then, gracefully, although her limbs were weak and tired. She had not slept in a total of four days now and even the skin beneath her usually bright blue eyes, was sunken in and famished. Her eyes were a dull gray color, except her right which would always remain clouded from the vampire that had made her into this monster. No life existing in them except for this nature that she was still trying to contain. Since her turning, she had been free of human blood. Never would she take the blood from a living being. She knew it would murder her soul on doing so and it would destroy her mind. It was a promise she had made to herself and the man she now called her guardian angel. He was not far. She could feel his presence and that sensation was one that pushed her along, giving her legs life and flight as they slowly carried her to Wolfram and Hart.
For a law firm that never allowed vampires on their grounds, they certainly had their hands full with four of them now.
A burdened sigh left her lips, her tracks picking up slight speed as she felt the great need to just rest. She wanted to curl up onto her bed and fall asleep and think of nothing but the vision that filled her dreams every night. It was a face that even in her darkest hours of her life that she had lived in purgatory, had saved her mind from dying. A visible shiver creased down her spine then. The existence that rested between life and death was nothing she ever wanted to know again. She called it her own personal hell. It was cold. There had been no warmth. There had been no love. Nothing existed there but pain and destruction. The balled form that she had often let hold her body, still carried aches within her leg joints. She sat in the same place, day in and day out, wishing for her soul to decay. Now, she knew the light. She would never have to hide her eyes from the horrors around her again. She would never have to hear the screams and cries that were produced from her friends. She would never have to listen to her love, fighting the anguish that still racked her mind and body in the darkness of her room where she knew no one would hear her.
Willow. She was the mere reason for her now resurrected life. She would always be the reason. The ding of the elevator alerted its presence and it was then that Tara realized she had no memory of how she was standing at that very spot. She had been so lost within her mind that now the only destination she would find would be solace. It was an awakening as was the voice in her mind now that whispered to her. It was a familiar tone that wrapped around her heart and her soul and filled her with warmth, allowing that emotion to reach the corners of her lips as they lifted ever so slightly, carving a smile over her flesh.
"I love you, my Tara."
Those were words that never failed to reach her. The same time. Everyday. Just as the sun left the horizon and the orange streaks that would turn to purple and fill the night sky, blanketing the spaces with beautiful hues, her love would speak to her. She only wished she could speak back. Tara knew it was possible and it would only take a slight amount of concentration and she would then have access to the witch's mind, to whisper back her own undying devotion, but she could not do that. Willow would not understand and she would not be able to follow up on her presence, even if it were minute. Silence was once again invaded when the elevator came to a halt and the doors pushed open, holding the opening until the blonde witch stepped through them. She ignored the glances that followed in her foot steps, twisting her body to follow down the semi-darkened hallway that held the top floor in desolation. The second door on the left was hers and turning the knob she pushed it open and then shut the door solidly behind her.
As she pushed off of the surface, her right hand lifted absently behind her, her wrist performing a flicking motion to the left and at the sound of the lock turning into place, Tara dropped her hand. A slow motion of discarding her shoes followed next and just as she felt her legs near collapsing, she crawled up onto her bed from the bottom, her knees taking long strides to carry her up to her pillow. Her head dipped down and meeting the soft surface, she relaxed her body onto its left side, her knees coming together and curling up in the smallest of movements. The palm of her right hand met with her left one and positioning them into a praying stance, she brought them up and slid them under her head. She needed rest. She needed air. She needed her dream face.
With the close of her eyes, her face popped into her mind and the curvature of her mouth, lifting into a softened and true smile was the last motion she performed as her body soon fell into a much needed slumber.
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Yes, please continue.
Why must Tara avoid Willow? Her destiny as a Champion? (If she even is the title charater.) Or did JFK happen, and Tara thinks she moved on? (This one is unlikely, with daily 'I love yous'.)
