Here is Segment B
Saturday Night: She’s gone now, the door has closed behind her and I’m alone again, but at least not in the dark, not with that thing pounding to get in, its hideous aura pressing at me like a slobbering tongue. Uggh, the images it conjured up, of Willow’s body broken, my scaled hands cracking her bones so I could feast on the marrow, all due to my demonic nature, it threatens to bring on the uncontrollable shaking again.
Oh Goddess, what was that? Was it at my door?
No, just someone knocking and being let in down the hall. Please, come back quickly, Willow, I need you here. I can still smell its rancid breath in my face like the stench of an early grave after excruciating pain. I need my Willow’s deep herbal scent. I have to look on her to remind myself that beauty does exist, that nothing happened to her. Mother, how could something so Evil exist?
        The residue of it makes everything else seem so…banal, unimportant, insignificant perhaps. What difference does any of the previous night make when that thing could be lurking outside even now, haunting the dormitory hallways. Goddess how did I ever escape it?
        But I did, Buffy’s out hunting it now, getting Jonathan’s aid. But he said it was safe, and he was wrong, so wrong. No place is safe, it could be anywhere, prowling through my dreams, homing in on my thoughts, my fear. It’s already got a taste of me. I can feel the scratches from it’s claws throbbing with malignancy, vermillion lines squirming like fetid worms, wanting to burrow further into my flesh.
And I was worried about the possible evil in me? I’d laugh if I thought that I’d be able to stop. I, Father, we both knew nothing of true evil. Now I’ve seen it, felt it, had it pawing at me, drooling like a pedophile at an unattended playground. I’m unclean, tainted by it’s saliva, ripe with the remains of its last meal, little bits of fetid flesh and blood sprayed all over me, discolored patches on my clothes where it fell on me like acid.
I need to shower, to cleanse myself though no soap is ever going to be enough. I’d go to the bathroom and do so now, but it’s a long ways down the hall and what if it’s there? What if it’s hiding in one of the stalls just waiting for me? I…I can’t face it again. I can’t even get up the courage to take off my clothes. I won’t cover my eyes, return to the darkness, not for a briefest instant, even the time it takes to remove my shirt.
Oh Willow, hurry, hurry, come back to me. I need you, why couldn’t you find me? Why didn’t you come sooner? When it was there, pounding and pounding, all that went through my mind was that it had caught you first, torn you to bloody bits and it was now my turn.
I know you have to help Buffy and Jonathan find out what it is, discover how to kill it, and I do want it dead, destroyed; I’ve never wanted something dead so much in my entire life and I don’t even feel guilty for thinking it, but can’t Buffy and Jonathan handle it alone? Or Riley and the commando guys with the biggest most powerful guns they have? I don’t want you anywhere near that thing. It’s too horrible, I know you fight demons and vampires, but you should never have to feel something this dark, be subjected to its corruption, so foul and dirty. Goddess I’m already tainted, soiled, such things are never for you. I have to wash, can’t be like this when you come back; soon, I hope it’s soon.
Think of her, Tara, think of her and calm yourself. She said you’re safe and that means something. She’d never lie to me. Goddess she’s so courageous to even think about going out there with that on the loose. I wanted her to stay, to be safe too, but I couldn’t make that request of her. Oh, she’d probably stay if I did, but that wouldn’t be right. They need her, Buffy needs her, as much as I do, and if she can help in any way with killing it then I have to do my part and let her go. No one else should ever have to suffer its presence.
But her magic’s no match for it. She’s practically defenseless, and yet she doesn’t even hesitate. How could I not love her? She’s the most spectacular person, a radiant beacon that’s driven away the shadows from my dreary life. I can’t even begin to contemplate what it’d be like without her. She’s got such a vibrancy and joy of living canted by an adorable innocence and veneer of fragility that covers an inner strength greater than just about any I’ve ever seen.
Last night really did start out so well, too. I think I can still recall what happened despite the terror that came later. Why does that stench have to linger? It makes it so hard to fully picture her. I chose my pale blue dress and a top of matching, though slightly darker, color with small blue specks on it. I like blue, it’s a cold color that tends to allow one to merge with the background, remain unnoticed, but I’ve sometimes sort of secretly thought it shows off my hair well? Maybe? Father always disliked flashy or bright clothes, saying I wasn’t some harlot on display, but he didn’t seem to mind the blue so I could be all wrong.
Anyway, I wanted to look good in case he noticed me, sort of like in the dream, only I knew that would never happen. And I did want her to be pleased, too. I mean, all her friends would be there and everything. That thought made me nervous again, I still haven’t interacted that much with them and they’re such a big deal to her; I don’t want to embarrass her. That might make her decision about where to go next much easier. I know I’ll never fit in, I just didn’t want to stick out.
I did put my hair back in a pony tail too, which I hardly ever do. It makes me feel sort of vulnerable, with no place to hide, but I thought maybe she’d like a new look? And since it’s sort of cool in the evenings now so I also took a split pea green sorta light coat thing that in retrospect is probably a little icky. I just wish I had more practice picking out nicer things to wear.
She showed up right on time as always. I did look to see if she was standing there outside, waiting, but no, she just walked up and knocked. Well, after arranging her own black jacket, pulling her light pink shirt in place and brushing her hair back with her hand. It was so cute, and here I thought I was the only nervous one. I almost giggled and that would have been horrible as she would have heard me and caught me spying on her. It was neat to get a little glimpse of her without knowing I was looking. An unguarded moment that’s just mine now.
I couldn’t help it, she knocked, I opened the door and when she came in I embraced her and gave her a big kiss, full of passion, tongue and a little squirming. I just had to let her feel how excited she makes me. That tiny glimpse of her worrying about how she looks just for me, Goddess I love her so much. Just thinking about it calms me down, makes the horror of last night recede just a little more.
She was surprised and pleased and kissed me back and smiled giving me that look that almost made me want to just continue or draw her down on top of me on the bed and never let her go even though I knew we had to get going and she had one more picture of him in her hand for the wall.
I must have been more fervent than usual because she asked me what all that was for and I told her it was just because I was so happy and excited to see her, to be going out on our first date.
I know, I probably shouldn’t have said it. Date, too effusive, way too forward. I could have scared her more, made her think I couldn’t control myself in front of her friends, led to questioning the whole idea of going out tonight. It’s just that I couldn’t control myself then, I was literally overcome with love for her. It felt like I would swell up and float away, my heart pulling me to the top of the room. I wanted to laugh, to sing, dance, maybe even cry a bit at how much it hurt, only in a bittersweet good way. Yet through all that there was a tingling, a bubbling like I was some fine champagne all effervescent and ready to pop.
It must have been contagious because we both giggled a bit and when I got the tape to put his picture up, we both ended up sort of wrestling for the dispenser to be the one to attach it. I still get shivers from the memory of her body straining against mine, reaching and groping for the tape while I tried to keep it from her.
Of course we fell over in a thud, with her sort of on top of me. Her breath came in short little gasps and smelt like peppermint and something deeper and nicer. It tickled my neck and face as she looked down at me and I swear her eyes actually did sparkle like gems. Two sweet little emeralds that contain all that is good in the world. I looked in those eyes and at her slightly open mouth, her thin lips just barely parted in a grin, saw the joy that covered her face, seemed to light it up, and in that moment I didn’t care about anything else. I felt nothing evil or demonic present. Somehow I had helped give her that joy, made her smile and come to life in a way that was beyond friendship.
And she didn’t shy away, look off or avoid me at all. Instead her gaze seemed to return all the emotions that were passing through me like a tumult of charging elephants.
I opened my mouth to tell her that I loved her, how much she meant to me, but her lips and her tongue silenced any words I might have had. She held me tightly, probably too tightly and then I could feel her hands behind my head, pressing me against her even more firmly. There was almost a desperation and franticness to her passion. It was like a sluice or a dam had been opened and the deepest hidden emotions behind were finally starting to pour out and for once she didn’t care, they didn’t scare or worry her.
I remember leaning back and drawing her fully on top of me, her legs parting mine, her chest a welcome softness on my own. Our lips locked, tongues danced, our breath became one. And still her hands continued to grasp at my hair, hold my head as if to never let me go.
And then we heard a knock at the door and coarse voices laughing and carrying on. Somebody said, “Dude let us in, we’re almost out of beer!” In a too loud, sorta drunken, voice.
It wasn’t so much that which killed our mood as the laughing. She turned bright red and I could feel my own cheeks practically glowing like coals, though why we should feel like our parents had caught us doing something naughty I don’t know. But we did, and as I got up to answer the stupid door, I heard more laughing and someone saying that this was 323 not 333 and that they had the wrong room.
We composed ourselves while the voices left and the laughing dwindled. She commented that stuff like that probably never happened to Jonathan, and I had to agree. Things always go right for him. I bet what happened with that hideous monster is even part of some subtle plan of his that I don’t understand. I just wish I could forget the image of that terrible symbol on its forehead and all the scraggy, dank hair that seemed to be reaching for me on its own.
We looked at each other, I picked up the tape, tore off a piece and she used it to put up the new picture and then we left the room. Some early celebrations of spring break were going on in the Hall, but otherwise it seemed a bit more deserted than normal. We walked to the Bronze, occasionally touching, talking about him, what songs he’d play, the things we had to get done during the break. It was very nice and reminded me how good my life has gotten lately.
When we arrived at the Bronze, which had Jonathan posters all over the place, the line was already pretty long. We took our place in it and talked some more while waiting to get in. It didn’t take too long and it turned out Buffy and Riley were already inside and had gotten a good table.
We greeted them and it was obvious that the strain between them was still there. Willow asked if they intended to patrol later and got non-committal grunts. We talked a little while about him and before we knew it Anya and Xander joined us.
It was strange how we seemed like we were three couples each isolated in our own little world. The intro band wasn’t on stage yet and I tried to say something about the role of music in primitive tribes and how warriors often used it to re-enact their greatest hunts or feats and wondered how that could be applied to some of Jonathan’s songs. Willow thought it was a fun topic, but Anya cut in with something about Jonathan’s movies being more engaging because she could look at him and that set Xander off and got a glare from Willow. Buffy and Riley just seemed sort of lost.
That’ll teach me to open my mouth and try to make conversation. Donny always said no one was interested in my drivel and I should shut my face and keep quiet in public. Still, she knew what I meant. She always does. I never feel like a stupid dork when she’s present.
So we talked a little bit about Jonathan and how his musician aspect contrasted with his warrior aspect and yet how both were really more similar than one would normally consider. It was fun and then the first band started up and suddenly her hand was in mine and she was drawing me out onto the dance floor!
Goddess, it was like a dream come true. I couldn’t believe she was being so…bold, brazen even. I mean her friends were sitting nearby, lost in themselves, true, but wouldn’t they notice? Wouldn’t they begin to ask questions? Oh, Mother, it was just so cool to have someone willing to be seen with me, to have a dance partner I actually wanted to dance with. We were both awkward, not wanting to dance too closely and I think both self conscious, but I’ve never had so much fun like that before. She just opens whole new realms to me that I would’ve never thought possible. I’ll reiterate: I love her so much.
We didn’t dance too long and when we went back to the group Buffy and Riley were still acting stiff and Anya and Xander squabbling about something. It didn’t matter though because Jonathan took the stage next and we were both enraptured by his performance. He’s so cool. I think Riley and Buffy went to dance during the song, which was clearly sung to them. He’s so clever, helping them out, allowing the incident with Faith to be put in the past.
That’s not it breathing outside the door is it? That thing skulking about, waiting for me to come out? I’d feel it, sense it’s malodorous aura if that were the case, right? It couldn’t mask itself, could it? What if it can? It tricked me once before.
I wonder where she is, what she’s doing? I hope it’s something that will direct Buffy to it quickly. I don’t want anyone else to have to go through what I did. Come on Willow, you’re smart, you can find out what it is, what its weaknesses are so Buffy can kill it.
OK, I can be brave, I’ll just get a few spell components and put them on the desk with me, just in case. At the moment I only wish I was more like her.
I listened at the door but didn’t hear anything, checked the lock. I should be all right; for all its evil nature and fear it didn’t seem that strong, couldn’t even break down a simple door, thank the Goddess and God. How was that possible?
It’s odd my thinking about the creature now when during the middle of the concert at the Bronze a girl came running in all scared and bloody. He instantly knew something was wrong and halted things and went to comfort her. I bet he’s a great doctor with a winning bedside manner.
Anyway she left with Jonathan and Buffy which sort of put a damper on the evening. Xander and Anya had left sometime earlier so Willow and I hung around at the Bronze for a little while. Everyone was all upset about the attack and wondering what happened and pretty sure that he’d take care of it no problem. We talked a bit about what we thought had happened, though we were terribly wrong in our suppositions.
After a while we decided to head back to campus. It was another great walk. We held hands part of the way and she told me how they’d probably have a Scooby meeting about the attack, or at the very least help Jonathan and Buffy hunt it down. Heh, my brave monster fighter. She was all excited and keyed up, but in an undercurrentey sort of way. Yeah, she enjoys the Scooby life all right, danger aside. I…I don’t know if I could handle it myself. If she were there, maybe.
As we were just getting to campus we ran into Buffy on her way back from Jonathan’s. I asked if they were going to go fight the creature, and Buffy said that Jonathan had said no go. Willow was surprised at this, but Buffy related that he felt it was just an animal, nothing dangerous.
How could he have been so wrong? I mean, Willow’s right, it’s Jonathan and he said no one was in danger. He must have some plan to lure the beast into the open or not want it to leave the area where he’ll have a hard time finding it. Something like that. It still sends shivers throughout me, raises goosebumps just thinking about it. The noise it made…it still rings through my ears like a predatory bird ready to pounce on something small and helpless. It almost drives her sweet voice from my mind.
Since they weren’t going to go after it right away, and we were at my dorm, I pointed out that this was my exit. I have to admit being disappointed because I had hoped that Willow would come back to my room, but with Buffy along that wasn’t possible.
I asked her if I’d see her tomorrow and she smiled and said yes. She gave that special look and her beautiful smile and ran her hand along my arm, trailed her fingers along mine. I didn’t want to leave her and it seemed like she felt the same. Leaving her is so hard, it’s like going from the warmth and light of home into the cold desolate night where the wind cuts through you and you’re alone under the stars, small, inconsequential.
But we parted with a last glance and she and Buffy continued their conversation while I headed back into the hall. It must have been later than I thought as there was no one around. There was a creepy echo and an odd surreal sense of being the only person left alive, the lone survivor after some weird holocaust.
I think I must have sensed something as soon as I started moving through the lounge area, there was a presence about, like a brooding watchfulness or something stalking. It was as if it knew that I knew that it was there but was playing with me anyway, trying to increase the terror of wondering what it was, where it was, when it would pounce, what exactly it’d do once it caught me. Different images flashed through my mind of blood and slaughter, each more horrible than the previous.
I looked around but didn’t see anything, didn’t hear anything specifically, just the ominous unease and those phantom sounds you think you hear when you’re scared, which I was, very much so, though it had been building since I entered the Residence Hall.
I went for the door to the actual rooms and they flew open in front of me. It was there, a large, seemingly giant, creature with long scaborous arms and filthy stringy hair and large discolored fangs. It let out a roar and startled me so bad I almost wet myself. It batted me with its arms and I went flying backwards, little flashes of light and black obscuring my vision and pain slashing through me.
It was on me in an instant and I tried desperately to keep it off, barely getting my feet up to kick at it, keep it at bay while it’s long arms slapped and clawed at me. Terror must have given me extra strength because it wasn’t able to close or get a good grip on me.
A tiny voice in the back of my head kept saying ‘use a spell, use a spell,’ but I was having a hard time bringing any to mind. All I could see were its teeth tearing at my stomach as it buried its face in my blood and entrails. Its breath was so rank, carrying a carrion smell that promised death and dismemberment, that I could barely breathe.
Somehow while scrabbling back I managed to recall a mist of obscurity spell that might allow me to get away from it. I chanted the words hurriedly, praying I had them right and extended my arms in the proper gesture and white smoke shot out into its horrid face, hiding the triangular symbol on its forehead from my sight.
I scrambled away, putting distance between myself and it, and then managed to get to my feet. It quickly recovered from the spell and I ran, looking for someplace, anyplace, to hide. I could hear it behind me and in my mind there came a high pitched screech that almost seemed to be laughing, taunting me.
I spied a janitor’s closet and barely managed to get it open, my fear-numbed fingers fumbling with the knob as it threw itself towards me. But I was quick enough and managed to get inside and shut and lock the door just as it gave another scream and reached the area.
I cowered there while it pounded on the door, screeching its frustration and rage. It was pitch black and its vile aura and odor pressed at my mind, making me think I was buried alive, trapped and unable to get out with the forces of putrefication and rot already starting to dissolve my still living form in an eternity of agony filled darkness.
I needed light, anything to chase off the gloom and the feeling of hopelessness. My hand shook but I groped for the light switch while it continued to pound and rage. I found that small little plastic plate and hit the switch and there was a sudden flash and a pop as the light bulb burst. There would be no relief from the darkness for me.
My sudden despair and increased terror seemed to fuel the thing at the door, which now seemed to shake under its pounding. Each blow was almost like a physical slap directly to me, I cringed at each strike, waiting, picturing the wood splintering and its long limbs reaching through to grab me and tear at my flesh.
I recoiled back against the far wall and slid to the floor in a fetal ball, or that’s what I think I did, it’s so hard to recall anything but the feel of death and horror running through my mind. I remembered Mother saying that you should never picture negative things happening, always see what you wanted to happen, the best outcome, in your mind and then your spells will always work out.
I put my hands over my head, tried to muffle its constant cries and bellows and kept a vision of the door intact, standing firm like a mighty slab of oak, in my mind.
The creature’s aura, it’s foul presence beat at me, whispered of dark things, of my demonic nature coming to the fore and swallowing Willow, her blood running down my chin, dripping warmly on my chest while I clawed at her eyes, opened her belly, and all the while it continued to throw itself at the door. How long this went on I don’t know. It seemed like forever, so that with each slam my head throbbed and pounded. I’m sure tears flowed from my eyes, but I kept the image of the solid barrier ever present. In fringes of my mind my Willow was there to help me, not dieing or injured at all. She kept telling me to be strong, to be brave, that I could survive this, that she needed me and couldn’t stand it if I were lost to her. I held tight to her image though the creature’s promise of a gruesome death for her as well was unrelenting.
Eventually, finally, somehow I realized it was quiet. I thought a lot of time had passed, but I was still cold, alone and in the dark. My head hurt where it had been hit and from the constant mental assault. Various parts of my body stung and ached where its claws had struck me and I still smelt that charnel house odor. I could barely move, but crept to the door and tried to listen. I heard nothing and after a few more moments of indecision, opened the door and peeked out.
Almost as I did I felt the creature’s presence again and heard its enraged cry. I barely got the door closed and locked before it crashed into it once more. Promises of more pain and death flashed through my mind along with images of it waiting there for me forever; being just out of sight, constantly lurking and waiting for me, ready to devour and rend as soon as my guard was down. It was the patient stalker, ever ready for me, never seen but always there.
This went on and on while its pounding continued and I couldn’t see anything in the dark. I was all alone and it seemed to whisper that this was how we all died. I cried out Willow’s name then, hoping, pleading that somehow she’d be nearby, hear me and come to my rescue.
The creature’s aura was like a bleak laughter saying she was already dead, I had killed her when my evil made a spell slip out of control and no one would ever find me.
I don’t really know what happened after that, how long it pounded, if it left or not. I couldn’t move; was curled on the floor praying it wouldn’t get through, keeping that image of a solid door between us intact.
Continued immediately below.