Hey Kittens
After many delays and the nightmare of retail combined with Harry Potter
... we have UPDATE! Woo hoo!
Hopefully there will not be such a long wait before the next installment.
Disclaimer: Willow and Tara and the other BTVS character are not mine, but Jo, Dani, Sarah, and Dr. Green are.
Rating for this part is a strong PG-13 for language.
Angst level - high, 8+.
Violence - implied.
I hope you all have fun reading.
****
Col. George McNamara, USMC (detached duty) closed the file on Specialist John Willis and set it on the large stack of “keepers” to his right. He stared at the one file remaining in the center of his desk. Such promise. He wondered for a moment about the personality of the young man it represented. He fingered it, hesitating. Such potential … and nearly wasted. He hated waste.
That’s what came of putting a civilian in charge of what should have been a completely military operation. Dr. Maggie Walsh may have been a brilliant scientist but she lacked the … drive … to have fulfilled all the mission’s objectives. His gray-blue eyes traveled to the very short stack of files on his left and he snorted. She’d allowed herself to be sidetracked by the locals.
The situation was perfectly clear in military terms. Eliminate the problem. And if there was collateral damage, well, the town had survived that before. The ruined high school testified to that. But Ms. Bitch had dicked around, and had compromised the project by involving a civilian with no security clearance whatsoever. Now he was here to clean up the mess she’d left, but with his hands tied. He snorted again.
His hands caressed the folder. His lips firmed in a hard line and his eyes narrowed. It was past time for him to see exactly what they were doing here. Time for the grand tour. He picked up the folder and stood. Very deliberately he placed the folder labeled “314” on top of his keepers.
****
Back out in the bright sunshine, Dani stopped and turned toward her. “Sooooo….?”
“Soooo…,” Jo grinned back at her, “I thought you were ready for a nap. All those yawns in there.”
The other girl dropped her sunglasses over her eyes and shrugged. “Visiting Dr. Green always makes me sleepy, but given the proper incentive …,” Jo could feel the shielded eyes slowly caressing her body and she shivered, “I think I can wake up. That is, if you’re not too tired ....”
“Uh, no – not too tired here.” Jo shook her head energetically and made Dani grin.
“Good, ’cause, y’know – I wasn’t the only one yawning in there.”
Jo found the other girl’s hand and their fingers entwined. “But I had a nice nap while I waited for you.” She smirked. “Besides, you didn’t completely tire me out .... I think we should try again.”
“Your place or mine?”
Such a simple question … so why was she hesitating? Did she dare admit that she was getting cold chills at the thought of making love in Dani’s room? Did she need to explain?
“Jo?”
She lifted Dani’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “Let’s go with mine ….?”
“Good.” Her girlfriend drew their linked hands from Jo’s lips to her own and murmured, “I like your neighbors better than mine.”
Her place, her neighbors – Jo smiled as their joined hands dropped. “I like that you like them. They’re good people.”
“Hmmmm.” Dani pulled on her hand and they started walking.
“Hmm, what?”
“They may be nice. They may be good people. But …,” she smiled impishly, “y’know, I’m not planning on spending the afternoon with them. Just you.”
“I like that plan.”
****
Sarah lifted her head at the slight noise the Fyarl made as he turned over in his sleep. Her dark eyes narrowed as she gazed at the blank white walls of their cell.
Boring.
That was the problem with being confined here. She’d already heard disjointed ravings from one of the captives several cells away, interspersed with a moaning litany, “What to do, what to do?”
That was a question she’d faced on a daily basis for the past century, and while this cell didn’t exactly offer great educational opportunities, she wouldn’t lose her mind to boredom in it. It wasn’t as if traveling in the holds of ocean-going ships was overly stimulating, either. That was one of the reasons she’d committed so much literature to memory … to replay in her head when she was bored. She’d even enjoyed the tedium of memorizing most of it.
Some Shakespeare, perhaps. A pleasant diversion like Twelfth Night, or something more wicked? Hamlet, Macbeth … or maybe The Merchant of Venice? After all, she had a fondness for the occasional pound of flesh herself.
Her stomach rumbled and she frowned. She had a pretty decent time sense and it felt like dinner was a bit late. Which could be perfectly ordinary – she hadn’t been here long enough to know for sure – or it could be that the soldier boys were playing mind games.
No, remembering Shakespeare’s Shylock would make her too hun ….. Her head swiveled towards the transparent wall of her cell, her nostrils flaring at the new scents floating in on the air currents. Humans. A group of them had just entered her section of the compound. She listened intently; they were several halls away, not moving quickly, but in fits and starts. Her hearing was acute, but the distance made eavesdropping nearly impossible; if she had to make a guess, it was a review or briefing. Which might explain the delay with the crap she was being fed. Her nostrils quivered. They smelled good. Her stomach rumbled again and she sighed.
“Patience is a virtue,” she whispered. It was one of the few she practiced. She settled back against her part of the wall. She’d just keep her ears peeled … and wasn’t that a delightful image and why was she persisting in torturing her empty stomach?!
Patience. She could do this, and then when her time came …. She grinned. She could wait. Oh, yes, she could wait.
****
Willow molded herself to Tara, hugging her lover with every fiber of her being. This was good. Better than good. It wasn’t quite perfection – perfection was the closeness of their lovemaking – but it felt wonderful. She still ached, but with Tara here, with Tara in her arms, being held by Tara, the emptiness that had threatened to swallow her up as she sat in class was receding. But could she tell Tara what was wrong? Dared she answer that question?
Would that bring the whole lost feeling back? She squinched her eyes shut and pressed her face into the softness of Tara’s neck, the weave of the dark blue-violet sweater rough against her cheek. It seemed that no amount of squinching could keep all the tears inside and she felt a few more leak out.
Oz.
She had Tara. She didn’t know how or why she was so lucky, but she had Tara now. Was it right – was it fair – for her to feel anything, even grief, for Oz?
How could she even begin to explain to Tara what she had felt – still felt – for him? And wouldn’t that be cruel? To talk to her lover about her feelings for her former lover – that would only be agonizing for Tara.
Would it make things better or would it only serve to torture them both?
She didn’t know any spell to make that – her and Oz – right again. He wasn’t here. He’d left her. There was no going back to before. She couldn’t go back.
She didn’t even know if she still wanted to go back.
****
Tara simply held the other girl in her arms. Eyes closed, her cheek pressed against the silky red hair, she could feel Willow’s tension. It took no magic at all for her to sense her lover’s distress. Willow was hurting for some reason and ….
“Tara, she …,” her love’s face lifted and Tara watched her swallow, “She … Buffy didn’t mean it, y’know, what she said about Xander being the one who was hurt most. She didn’t; she just sometimes says things without thinking them through. I mean, you’re the one with the ouchies and all, she knows that ’cause she saw you yesterday and she was really upset by it ….”
She let Willow’s words wash over her, barely paying attention to them. Maybe Willow was concerned about what she thought about her friends, but she was also positive that wasn’t why Willow was in tears. She cupped the face that was dearer to her than any other and her lips gently brushed kisses over Willow’s forehead, cheeks and lips. Willow didn’t need words from her – she needed a deeper reassurance.
“…and I don’t know why she acts like that. She’s just so obsessed with sex all the time. I just don’t ….”
Except that some things she had to answer. “Anya’s l-lonely. She, um, knows how close you and Buffy and Xander are, and she w-worries that she can’t fit in.” She lowered her hands to Willow’s shoulders, resting them lightly there.
“Well, there’s that whole ex-demon thing, that’s a bit ….” Willow stopped, suddenly stricken. “Tara, you don’t think that, do you? About you, not Anya?! You’re my friend and ….”
“It d-doesn’t always w-work that w-way.” She winced inwardly as she said it. Willow didn’t need her insecurities added to whatever emotional burden she was bearing.
“You don’t think they like you?”
She found that she couldn’t meet Willow’s eyes as she whispered, “I d-don’t know.” She paused, her hands squeezing Willow’s shoulders when she started to object. “It’s j-just that you’ve known one another for so long, and you know each other so well, you and Buffy, Xander, Mr. Giles, and … and Oz.” There, she’d said his name. “It’s h-hard to fit in. Besides, they don’t really know me.”
“Don’t be … but of course they do!”
Tara had mentally slipped ‘silly’ into Willow’s brief pause before her mind caught up to the second phrase. She suddenly couldn’t breathe, her secrets almost unbearable. They knew she was Willow’s friend, a witch, and a practicing Wiccan, but not that she was a lesbian; Willow had carefully left that out. Besides, not even Willow really knew her – not her past, not about her family, and certainly not her greatest fear, that she was a demon, without the ‘ex’. It was better that way.
Maybe Willow would accept a demon-Tara the way she accepted Anya and Spike. But maybe not. And was that really acceptance? In their cases, it seemed more like resignation. Tara leaned against her slender lover doing what she had learned to do: taking comfort in the now. Willow didn’t know her – no one really knew her – but that was by her own choice.
It was better, because her future held nothing but pain.
****
She lay quietly in Riley’s arms, simply enjoying the closeness and letting it build into hunger. This was so good, having him back. She’d grown accustomed to having a boyfriend again. And while she’d never had a lover for long … well, she’d missed that too over the past week. It turned out that Faith had been correct in one thing: lust really was as much a part of her nature as it was of any vampire she slayed.
And how did Faith manage to intrude even here? Her eyes narrowed; one day she would collect on everything Faith owed her. Buffy grinned; she knew one sure way to erase the other slayer from her mind – and from Riley’s ….
****
Col. McNamara barely glanced into the cell housing the pair of Hellions as the senior scientist, Dr. Peter Sharp, finished his report. It was all too apparent that the Initiative had lost its main talent with the deaths of Walsh and Angleman. Most of the scientists remaining were competent but uninspired researchers and investigators. Most, but Sharp was not among them. He rather doubted that Dr. Sharp had ever had an original thought in his life. He was a plodder, a hack, a consummate ass-kisser, a back-stabber. The only thing Sharp excelled at, he suspected, was stealing other people’s work. Not that the last could ever be proven – the man seemed to be made of Teflon, nothing would stick.
“In this cell …,” the small herd of scientists with their military escort turned about and faced the opposite cell, as Dr. Sharp consulted his clipboard, “here we have Hostile 34, a Fyarl demon, and Hostile 256, a vampire. Typical members of their particular species.” He turned to walk to the next cell bloc, the flock of scientists mimicking his actions.
McNamara lifted both eyebrows in surprise. After droning on endlessly for much of the tour, Dr. Sharp had nothing to say about these HSTs? Departures from normal behavior always made him curious. He looked inside the cell the good doctor had all but skipped. The HST with the ram’s horns was slumped against the back wall of the cell, apparently asleep. The other, the vampire, had been taking in the entire proceedings. She stood as she noticed his interest. She was short – almost petite – and slender, dwarfed by her Fyarl companion. Unlike every other vampire they’d passed, she was keeping her human form. All the others had shifted into their vampiric aspect and retreated to the backs of their cells. Dressed in black jeans and a white t-shirt whose slogan was obscured by a black denim jacket, Hostile 256 had dark, limpid eyes and long, dark-brown, slightly curling hair. Had he not known she was an HST, had he merely passed her on the street, he would still have slapped a warning label on her. Rarely had he seen a more beautifully designed mantrap.
She was also barefoot.
That – and the calculation combined with contempt in those dark eyes – decided him. “Doctor Sharp ….”
“Yes?”
It was amazing the amount of officiousness a three-letter word could contain. That was all the goading he needed.
“Let me see the report on HST 256.”
Dr. Sharp’s eyes flickered – was that fear? – and he walked back rather slowly. “I’m not certain what you’re looking for. HST 256 is a typical member of its species.”
“The report, please.” McNamara extended his hand and stared at the doctor, tracking a small rivulet of sweat at his hairline. The good doctor was quite worried about something. What could it be? His peripheral vision registered movement in the cell as the vampire moved a little closer. It seemed he was not the only curious being present.
Reluctantly, Dr. Sharp handed over his clipboard.
It took only a momentary scan of the page to gather all the information he needed. But for the sake of comparison he paged back until he located another vampire. The contrast between the two reports was amazing. He checked the date. Ah. Dr. Walsh had still been alive and running this freak show then. Aware that the doctor was beginning to sweat in earnest, he took his time, checking first one report, then another. Since Angleman’s death, all attempts at thoroughness had disappeared. Granted, his death and Walsh’s would have thrown the project into disorder for a time, but this … this paucity of information spoke of incompetence on a grand scale. It seemed that he had still more reviews to do.
He flipped back to the non-report on HST 256 and glanced into the cell. The hostile had moved all the way up to the see-through barrier and was watching them intently. He compared the photocopy of a UCS ID to the stats on the page and the evidence before his eyes. He wasn’t the least surprised that the ID matched the stats. Superficially, they even matched the physical presence of HST 256 … if the viewer had had several belts of hard alcohol and been sleep-deprived for several days. HST 256 was not 5’6” and 140 lbs. The vampire might be 5’1” and 110 lbs – if her clothes were soaked in water and her pockets loaded with bricks – but certainly no more. And she did not have blue eyes.
The report was sheer laziness, and he could not abide that. He thrust the clipboard back at Doctor Sharp and took a few steps nearer the barrier. He expected the vampire to back up as he approached, but she didn’t move. Her dark eyes had followed that brief interaction with what appeared to be wary amusement.
“You’re not Katherine Chandler. Where is she?” Since he suspected that the UCS student, or at least her blood, was currently residing in the hostile’s digestive tract, McNamara was well aware that he was unlikely to get an honest answer, if the hostile answered at all. He looked into the HST’s eyes and for a few moments they played the age-old game of all predators: who would blink first?
When the vampire spoke, he was under no illusion that he had bested her. She had simply conceded this one instance, possibly out of sheer boredom with the game. “No, Colonel, I’m not. But I didn’t eat her. Something big, with long arms and a symbol on its forehead, interrupted us. It ate her; I barely got a nibble. If you fish something unidentifiable out of the sewers, that’ll likely be her. Sir.”
“That could be the thing that traumatized that girl! Agent Finn reported it, if you remember.” Doctor Sharp was suddenly a fount of information. “He’s actually the one who brought in this HST, he loc…..” McNamara’s cold gaze rested on the doctor for just an instant and Sharp’s mouth snapped shut. Agent Finn was not someone he wished to consider at the moment.
“Sharp, the report on HST 2-5-6 is practically nonexistent, and the information that is there is, for the most part, inaccurate. While I would love to delve into the reasons why this happened, I will postpone that until 1630 hours, at which time you will report to my office. In the meantime, I strongly suggest that you begin formulating an accurate and comprehensive report on this subject. I’ll wait for you in the next bloc. We will continue our tour when you rejoin me.”
“Yes, sir.” Doctor Sharp’s reply was as even as his complexion was splotchy.
While Doctor Sharp got his head out of his ass, he had some issues of his own to consider. McNamara looked at the military detail accompanying the tour. Split service, one airman and one marine. Well, he would stick with his own. “Private Mason.”
“Sir.” The stocky marine came to attention.
“With me.”
“Yes, sir.”
McNamara turned his back on the flushed doctor and set off down the hall, PFC Mason dogging his steps. He and his shadow reached the next intersection of hallways and paused. Out of long habit, he went into parade rest to think, barely noticing when the enlisted man copied his pose.
The hostile’s reply had been very interesting. While the vampire might have heard him called by rank – he needed to read up on vampiric auditory processes to verify the probability of that – he also had to consider the possibility that the hostile might be skilled at reading insignia, which was interesting in its own right. She had also been superficially polite, although the way she had tacked on the ‘sir’ led him to suspect that it was a quasi-taunt. That she had not had to be forced to answer him seemed to indicate an intelligence above that of the other HSTs. He was not, however, under the illusion that she would generally be so cooperative.
He also suspected she was being truthful in regard to the Chandler girl. That was based mostly on gut feelings, but why else should she admit to having attacked the girl at all? And how else would she have such a detailed description of the weekend’s threat? It made no sense otherwise.
In spite of its capture being credited to Agent Finn, he was pleased that HST 256 was contained and no longer a menace. With 314 and the various investigations, he had quite enough on his plate already. He certainly didn’t need the challenge this particular hostile might have posed. He made a mental note to review Finn’s report. That could provide interesting insights.
Now what was keeping that damned doctor?
****
Sarah felt no need to watch McNamara stride away. All her attention focused on the man whom the colonel had just made her enemy. He’d deliberately embarrassed Dr. Sharp in front of his colleagues, some of whom were openly delighting in his discomfort. While their internal dissension might be useful in the long run, the fact that she was the instrument of his censure was likely to make her … uncomfortable … in the near term. She couldn’t change that; she could only try to minimize it. She returned to her place at the wall and practiced being ‘beneath notice’ as the incompetent scientist worked at self-control. And watched.
Finally Sharp’s gaze settled on a somewhat dish-faced female scientist. “Bowman, you were on duty Friday night, weren’t you?”
The woman nodded hesitantly.
“I know you’ve only been attached to the project a month, but still … how did this slip-up occur?”
Her brown eyes widened in shock. “Excuse me, sir?”
“Surely that is a simple enough question even for you.” Sharp’s tone was beyond condescending. “I’m asking you to explain this fuck-up.”
“B-b-but you said ....”
“Standard procedure is to process all HSTs at time of capture,” Sharp snapped with a sideways glance at the other scientists, daring them to contradict. “True or false?”
“True.” Bowman’s voice was soft, but her eyes flashed.
“Good. That wasn’t so hard, was it? I’ve always found that the first step in correcting a problem is taking responsibility for it.” Sharp smiled nastily at her. “Consider yourself on report. Daniels, I want a complete work-up on yon wee beastie by tomorrow. 10 am sharp. Am I clear?”
A pudgy, moon-faced man nodded.
“Very well, then. You can have Buckley and Connolly. I suggest that you include Bowman on your team as well. She can do the work tonight that she sloughed off on Friday night. Besides, she makes a mean cup of coffee.” He sniggered and some of the other scientists joined in.
Daniels nodded, his round face completely expressionless.
“In the meantime, let’s all rejoin Colonel Jackass. The sooner we finish this damned tour, the sooner you can get started.” With that Sharp turned on his heel and set off down the hall, all but the four scientists singled out trooping behind him.
“Of all the nerve!” Bowman exploded. “I’m going to file …..”
“Oh, just shut up,” Buckley interrupted, “If Walsh were still alive and in charge that might work, but with the military …? Get real.”
“Standard procedures?” The team’s third member asked, barely glancing at the outraged woman.
“Yes,” Daniels said. He sighed audibly, “And I had plans for tonight, too. Bowman, you can catch up. Get that HST subdued; we’ll get started when the tour is finished.”
Sarah watched as the foursome separated, Bowman heading off alone, still mumbling under her breath. A few moments later the slot in the ceiling opened, two packets falling through. She retrieved both of them, as she usually did, but immediately tossed the meat to her companion, who had awakened at the snick of the opening. She lifted the blood packet to her lips and waited.
There.
The chastised scientist was back in front of the barrier. It seemed that Bowman wasn’t completely stupid. She was at least checking to see that the packets had made it to the intended recipients. Sarah carefully and gently mouthed the packet, pretending to suck the dosed blood.
No, she wasn’t stupid – but she was quite naïve. The scientist nodded to herself and trotted off to rejoin the others. Sarah lowered the packet, massaging it slightly with her hand. She, on the other hand, wasn’t naïve. She’d bought herself a few minutes, maybe as long as an hour, but she was under no illusions. Shortly she was going to be at the mercy of these scientists. That was not going to be a good thing no matter how she sliced it.
She hefted the blood. It was crap, but it was food, and her teeth ached with hunger. This was doubtless the easy way. But if she drank, she would have no control over what happened to her. There was a muffled whump behind her as the Fyarl collapsed. Her eyebrows lifted; it had eaten barely a third of the meat. Whatever the drug was, it was potent and fast acting. She juggled the packet from hand to hand for a few moments longer.
The one certainty in her mind was that she would not go gently into the night ... or to whatever experiments the scientists had in store. Presumably the investigations would involve removing her from the cell. At the least the scientists would have to open the barrier, and that was when things could get interesting. It would certainly present her with an opportunity to escape ….
She had few choices. She could discard the blood, an act of open rebellion. That would force them to come to her, and would quite likely end in violence. She normally didn’t mind violence – it could be a lot of fun – but in this case she didn’t really think it would get her anywhere except hurt … or dusted.
The alternative was a variation of the ‘wolf in sheep’s clothing’ role that she often played; she was very good at innocent and helpless. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch for her to play drugged and helpless. If the scientists could be persuaded of that, she might be taken to a location that was more conducive to a quick strike and run ….
Choice A probably would involve tasers and pain, but B had possibilities. She liked choice B.
Her eyes narrowed as she located the Fyarl’s meat. That would be an excellent place to hide her dinner. She took the few steps to the other demon’s side and knelt. Hamburger – her nose wrinkled – a little on the ripe side. Quickly she made a hollow in the minced meat then ripped her packet open and poured the contents in. Saliva filled her mouth as she worked the pig’s blood into the meat.
It took only a few moments and then she had just the evidence on her fingers to dispose of. She stared at her bloody, fat-streaked hands. There was very little there, really … but how potent was the drug? Snarling in frustration, she felt her face shift. Angrily she wiped most of the blood from her hands onto the inside of the Fyarl’s vest.
There.
Grimly she forced her face to return to human. Even though it was unnecessary for her, she took several deep, calming breaths. Air in, air out. Pity she didn’t have time for the meditation exercise that yogi who had been her companion for a weekend had taught her …. Air in, air out. Once again in control, she stood and returned to the location Bowman had last seen her in. She sank to the floor. Now for the hardest part.
She lifted the bloody plastic to her lips, liberally coating them. Almost she shifted. Almost she licked her lips. Instead she concentrated on the “breathing” exercise as she collapsed awkwardly onto her side.
Time for the un-dead to play dead.
****
Tara wanted nothing more than to cling to Willow like a lifeline. Instead … she abruptly released her and turned on her heel.
“Tara?” Willow grabbed her hand, her voice filled with uncertainty.
“I-It’s alright, sweetie. I n-need to make a phone call.” Tara pulled her hand free and crossed the room to her phone, Willow following so closely she nearly tripped. She lifted the receiver to her ear as she fished a number out of her pocket. Whatever had possessed him to give her this … she said a little blessing as she punched in the numbers. That done, she let her fingers entwine with Willow’s again.
“Yes?”
“Dr. Green? Th-This is Tara Maclay.”
“Yes, Miss Maclay?”
“I’m s-sorry to bother you, but I, um, was w-w-w-w….” she tried to force the word out. Willow squeezed her hand gently and she took a deep breath, “Wondering if you could write me that note for tonight after all, so I can b-b-be excused from class.”
There was silence on the phone for a few breaths and Tara began to have doubts that she was doing the right thing.
“It’ll be waiting for you at the desk at Health Services tomorrow. You had a very hard weekend, and you should definitely get some rest, Miss Maclay.”
“Yes, sir.”
He laughed softly in her ear. “Have a good night – and one day I want to meet your Willow. Goodbye”
The phone clicked before she had a chance to say her own goodbye. She carefully returned the receiver to its cradle and turned to “her Willow”.
“You’re skipping class?” Her lover’s eyes were wide with shock.
Tara smiled slightly. “Dr. Green w-wanted to write me an excuse for tonight when I was at his office, but I said no. I had every intention of going then, but a certain redhead ….”
“You’re skipping class for ME?” Willow’s beautiful eyes widened further.
She lifted her free hand and caressed her lover’s cheek. “No, I’m skipping class for us. Dr. Green said that I should get lots of r-rest, that it would speed the healing.” It seemed like she could still hear his song playing in her head, and she yawned. She dropped her fingers to the center of Willow’s chest and poked her. “And you’ve gotten even less sleep than me this weekend,” she accused mildly.
Willow shrugged. “Uh, yeah, well, I had better things to do.”
“A nap would do wonders for us ….”
“Or we could do better things now,” Willow pointed out, lifting one eyebrow. The suggestiveness of the gesture was ruined when she yawned widely.
Tara smirked. “Sleepyhead. Let’s take that nap, love – and get re-energized.” She released her lover’s hand and began stripping off her clothes.
Willow followed suit, but as she slipped beneath the covers and into Tara’s arms, she mumbled, “I’m going on record here that this is a use of Buffy-less time that could be used for things other than sleep.”
“Duly noted.” Tara snuggled into her lover’s body.
In moments they were both fast asleep.
Edited by: Triscuit7 at: 6/29/03 8:18 am
Mel, oh Mel... where are you?
And it doesn't look like it's getting better in the short term either. It sucks, it truly does. 
Pax! -Bev 
It used to be “too many books, too little time”. Now, the books and reading are in third place, and I still don’t have enough time to write! Too much work, too many family commitments, too much work-induced stress and have I mentioned WAY too much work? 
All in all, she’s better stress relief than kicking boxes out in the hall back of the store.
decide to kill her anyway? When she decided to leave?), the focus was shifted to Adam. But BTVS had already done Frankenstein when the gang was in high school. And while I found that whole plotline to be a bit lame, I felt re-using that Frankenstein plot with Adam was lamer. The government conspiracy was a better idea, I think. As for Sarah, well, she owes a bit to a favorite author of mine, one whom you read as well: S.M. Stirling. Few SF authors can write ‘dark’ in the way Stirling does; he just does ‘honorable evil’ very, very, well - some of his characters are downright insidious the way you start to sympathize with them. Sarah owes a lot to his Draka mother-daughter characters Yolande and Gwen Ingolfsson with a bit of the Kommanz Shkai’ra thrown in. Thanks for reading, sweetie.
The trick with Willow and relationships is to remember that she’s a geek; well, ok, she’s the Hollywood version of a geek which means she’s attractive but somewhat goofy at times. She sees herself as a geek (not the wonderful Willow as played by Aly that we see). She/Willow doesn’t have great self-assurance (being a geek) and that’s a deep wound; all relationships are going to be flavored by that – she doesn’t think she really deserved Oz. She isn’t going to just “get over” Oz; that’s not her. She is going to mourn him. She has to. Thanks for reading sweetie. 
Thanks. 
Thanks sweetie. 
So my apologies in advance for the lack of Willow/Tara goodness in this part. They will be in the next one. I promise.