Okay, here goes. I’m a guy who so adored the wonderful W/T relationship and was appalled by horrible events, at the end of season six. I love this board yet I have never before posted a story so I sure hope someone out there likes the following story. It does start with good and bad elements of ‘Seeing Red’ and if you read on, the story will be very different from what was witnessed on screen. Thank you.
Title: Reflections
Author: HushMeNot
Rating: NC-17 (in the beginning, anyway)
Summary: The good/bad of ‘Seeing Red’ but with a very different outcome
Disclaimer: I hereby acknowledge that the characters from, settings of and any references to the television show ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’, depicted in the following story, are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy and certainly not mine. Any similarities between ‘Reflections’ and any other “Kitten” story is purely coincidental.
Spoilers: If you endured the last three episodes of season 6 - None
Immeasurable thanks to my Beta, TKOLove!
Feedback: Yes, please
Email: BespinSky@yahoo.com
Note: Thoughts are represented by italicized sentences.
Chapter One
As the night welcomed a new day, sunlight began to enter through the windows of Willow’s cozy upstairs bedroom. Near the head of the bed, soft moans gently vibrated from Tara’s chest against the crimson sheet as Willow slowly glided her left hand up and over Tara’s left knee. The sheet seemed to move in a ripple as the loving caress along her silky skin put a smile upon Tara’s lips, and a slight quiver cascaded through her body.
No textbook magic was involved in this moment of bliss. Willow slowly and gently danced her left index finger around her lover’s knee and set her fingers upon rising goose bumps, letting them glide along Tara’s left inner thigh. Sunlight began to fill the room, finding soul mates entwined; Tara lay on her back, fully submissive to her lover’s touch. A longer and still softer moan erupted from within, and her temperature continued to rise. Willow’s fingers were getting close to her hottest spot. “You…mmm… sure know how to wake a girl,” whispered Tara with a crooked grin.
Willow, lying on her right side, reluctantly lifted her head from her lover’s left breast, but was rewarded with a view of soft, loving blue eyes. “Hey, if you’re gonna leave amazing skin like this laying around, I just have no choice,” she answered saucily. A mischievous smile appeared as she suggestively waggled her auburn eyebrows. Tara felt a rush of color spread across her cheeks. “Come here,” she whispered. Willow carefully lifted herself from Tara’s side. The blonde’s hands gently caressed Willow’s face, and the space between them closed.
They were quickly face-to-face, sharing the mingling breath between them. Tara moved first, teasing Willow with a soft kiss. She lay back, resting her head on the pillow, grasping the back of Willow’s neck, pulling her down to her. Tara unhurriedly opened her mouth to explore and enjoy every moist inch of Willow’s ruby lips.
Willow’s skin began to bead with moisture as the warmth inside her moved to envelope her body. A soft growl vibrated against Tara’s lips; the redheaded beauty could not hold in the sounds of pleasure as her fingers finally reached that most enticing space. With a single digit, Willow slowly traced the silky, drenched edges of Tara’s center. Tara released an animalistic moan and arched her back, desperately wanting to be closer to her lover’s touch.
Their kisses intensified with lips opening a little more and tongues beginning to dance. Tara tenderly slid her right hand along her lover’s warm, moist thigh and up her left side. Her fingers moved slowly, magnifying the anticipation. She eased her way under Willow’s arm and gently swooped down to cup her left breast in her palm, massaging it with desire. Their tongues pushed harder against each other and pleasure grew with each second that passed.
Willow couldn’t contain her longing. She reluctantly let go of her lover’s lips, needing them elsewhere. Tara let out a slight groan of discontent but was quickly appeased when she realized Willow’s aim. In one fluid motion, the redhead pushed the sheet out of the way, lifted her glistening form up, and slowly climbed over Tara, hovering her breasts over the blonde’s lips. Tara managed a garbled “Mmmm…yes,” before wrapping her arms around Willow and gently kissing and licking a very alert right nipple.
Willow used one hand for support while the other continued to swirl around Tara’s moist curls. As her nipple received much-wanted attention, she carefully slid her left middle finger into Tara. The blonde let out a long, guttural moan and gently clutched her lover’s nipple between her teeth. Willow was in ecstasy. She so enjoyed the silky smoothness and juices that drenched her finger. She slowly pulled out, bringing another frustrated groan from Tara. Willow gently glided her wet digit through Tara’s dripping folds and slowly swirled her finger around her lover’s clit. Tara let out something resembling a light roar and her eyelids began to quiver. Never the selfish one, she began to glide her right index finger along Willow’s silky center.
Willow was already near climax and she whispered into the blonde’s left ear, “Harder, baby.” Tara moved her tongue to the begging left nipple as she stroked her lover’s clit with more pressure, and her own nub enjoyed an unrelenting swirl that continued faster and harder. Within seconds that passed like heavenly hours, they moaned in unison, coming together, bodies shuddering from head to toe. The lovers gently slowed their drenched fingers to a calm yet intense stroke and their orgasms continued to send waves of pleasure throughout their glistening bodies.
Her red mane draped across Tara’s shoulders, Willow brought her lips to her lover’s mouth and they kissed slowly. Tongues danced in communication of the wiccans’ intense desire to stay connected.
Exhaustion began to set in and Willow gently dropped onto Tara. The intensity of their lovemaking left their bodies shimmering and soaked so thoroughly that Willow began to slide down Tara’s torso. As Willow slowly fell to Tara’s left side, they shared a giggle. Willow swiftly resumed her favorite spot, resting her head on her sweetheart’s warm, inviting breast.
“I wonder if anyone heard us?” whispered Tara. “Who cares?” retorted Willow, “I just had great wake-up sex with my girl!” She rocked the bed as she did a little horizontal happy dance with what was left of her body’s energy. “Willow!” Willow smiled contentedly at her girlfriend’s mock indignation.
“I so don’t want to get up,” Tara grunted. Willow wrapped her left arm around her sweetie’s waist and as she stared lovingly at the beautifully alert nipples before her, and gave a frown-induced reply. “Who says we have to?” Tara attempted to be serious but answered with a half grin. “Well, there is that place called University Something-or-other.” Will quickly countered, “Oh that. Couldn’t we call someone and say we just had great morning sex and don’t wanna go to school?” Tara gently shook her head. “No, really, sweetie, I have that exam this morning.” Willow lifted her head, ready to create another excuse, but stopped herself in mid-thought. Her stare came to rest on Tara’s breasts. “You know, if someone made pillows that look and feel like these, I’d be alternately aroused and asleep wherever I go.” Tara, still a little disbelieving of her body’s many attractive qualities, gave Willow a crooked grin and quickly covered the aforementioned “pillows” with the crimson sheet. Willow rolled her eyes. “Oh fine, we might as well get up, then.” Her seemingly annoyed response was purely in jest. She smiled, leaned over, and planted a long, soft kiss on Tara’s lips. They reluctantly separated, and Tara sighed. “I guess we’ll get showered up.” Willow paused for a moment before the full impact of the concept hit her. “Oooh, shower!” The redhead gleamed with thoughts of a soapy, curvy-in-all-the-right-places Tara, but the blonde tilted her head and playfully reprimanded, “Sweetie.” Gleam turned to pout as Willow rescinded. “Okay, okay. Guess I’ll shower first.”
The blonde wrestled with second thoughts while she watched her lover get out of bed wearing nothing but a look of delectable fun. She got up and followed her girl, enjoying the view with every step. The recipient of that look couldn’t help but notice. “Uh huh. And what are you looking at?” Tara lowered her head slightly as she looked up into gorgeous emerald eyes. “I was just thinking about what I want for dinner,” she replied, a sexy crooked grin emerging from her lips. Willow scanned Tara’s form with a look of pure desire. “And I know what I want for dessert,” she replied in a sensuous tone. A quick glance at the clock on the desk was hard evidence that time was getting away from them. She reluctantly headed for a thorough clean-up…solo.
“I want a cookie,” exclaimed Tara, calling to her wet-but-not-yet-showered Willow. “Do you want one?” Tara asked. “Sure, baby, thanks,” Willow responded from behind the shower curtain. And maybe some milk.” “Okay, I’ll be right back…promise.” Tara headed for the bedroom door and as she grabbed and began to turn the knob, she abruptly stopped. “Oops, I guess I should put something on.” She walked back to the desk, clutched her robe from the back of the chair, scooped it up, and wrapped it around her. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and frowned just a little. You are one pale substitute for Willow’s arms. She opened the bedroom door and headed downstairs while tying the robe’s belt.
Worry over being heard seemed unnecessary. Apparently no one was home. This was not a big surprise since all souls living in the Summers’ house had very odd schedules.
Once in the kitchen, she reached for the refrigerator door, but for the second time that morning, stopped herself suddenly. The faintest blush danced across her face. She backed away and stepped toward the sink, her mind having reviewed the wet and wonderful places in which her hands had spent the last hour or so. “That was close,” she mumbled, embarrassed though no one was there to see. She washed her hands and dried them with a paper towel. She washed her hands and dried them with a paper towel, then took a plate from the cupboard and reached for the cookie jar. Hoping to pull out chocolate chip, she delved in and returned with oatmeal raisin instead. Oh well. Any morning that includes Willow and cookies is pretty perfect, with or without the involvement of Nestle Tollhouse. She pulled out a few more and plopped them on the plate, then took a clean glass from the cabinet and filled it with milk.
She began to exit the kitchen with the snacks, but quickly tossed a glance out the window of the back door and spotted Buffy in the backyard. She turned and gingerly placed the cookies and milk on the kitchen island, then opened the back door to greet her friend. “Hi, Buffy!” The Slayer looked to the door and replied in a rather lascivious tone, “Hey, Tara. Finally up, eh?” Tara smiled and tried to diffuse the suggestive question. “Yeah, uh, gotta get to school.” Buffy’s attention returned to the garden as she replied, “Ok, see ya.” Tara closed the door, retrieved the milk and cookies, and headed back upstairs.
Willow, her body wrapped only in a towel, stood in front of the wardrobe mirror brushing her hair. Tara quietly walked up to her girl and placed an already half-eaten cookie in Willow’s mouth, gleefully asserting, “These are good.” Willow obviously agreed. “Mmm, oatmeal raisin. Breakfast of Champions! Thanks, Baby. Gosh, I didn’t know I was so hungry.” With a smile, Tara placed the goodies on the desk and turned for the bathroom. “I guess it’s my turn.”
A little sad to have washed the remainder of the morning’s lovemaking from her body, Tara emerged from the bathroom redressed in jeans and a form-fitting blue shirt. “How do I look?” Willow smiled and answered, “You look great, but…clothes…” she hooked her fingers through the belt loops on the blonde’s jeans then continued, “…don’t get used to these.” Tara grinned and they took each other in a warm embrace. Enjoying the quiet closeness of the moment, they began to slowly sway.
When they stopped, Tara ended up facing the window and her gaze came to rest in the yard outside. “Xander!” Willow backed off from the hug. “Excuse me?” pouted the playful redhead. “Has it really come to this -- you yell out Xander’s name when you’re holding me? “I told you I’m not usually large with the butch, but I’ll kick his butt.” Tara rolled her eyes and smiled back. “No, I see Xander out back, talking with Buffy.” She kissed her lover on her left cheek then walked to the window. “Maybe they’re making up.” Willow turned back to Tara. “I hope so. That’s the best part,” replied the blonde with a knowing grin.
Buffy and Xander’s embrace was cut short when they heard footsteps from the back alley and turned to see Warren walk into the backyard, carrying a gun. The sounds of gunshots were fast and furious, and before Willow or Tara could even flinch, a bullet crashed through the bedroom window. Tara reacted in a calm but curious voice. “Your shirt.”
Tara dropped to the floor. “Tara!” Willow sped to her lover, knelt down, and took her blue-eyed angel into her arms. “Baby?” she screamed, rocking hopelessly back and forth, her grasp on Tara’s motionless body growing tighter. Willow’s voice was quivering uncontrollably. “Oh please…no!” Tears streamed down Willow’s cheeks and spilled onto Tara. The flow seemed to run with the blood onto the floor.
With every rock of their bodies, Willow’s face contorted with sorrow. She feared her pleas were futile as her soul mate gave no reaction. Fear transformed to anger that swelled inside the once docile Wicca. The one human being who meant more to Willow than life itself was silent in her arms, seemingly taken from this world and from her. The redhead’s powers, manageable in recent weeks, were suddenly raging like an internal tornado. Heavy tears magnified the color of emerald green in her eyes as she whimpered. “This isn’t happening!” Within seconds, the emerald eyes were engulfed in darkness. She looked to the stars and demanded, “Bring her back to me!” Her eyes quickly enraged to a glowing red and the room, once bright with sunlight, turned dark as if life itself were caught in a vacuum.
Willow seemed to look beyond the stars, her anger nearing its release upon an unsuspecting Earth. Suddenly, an ever-increasing light filled the bedroom and the Wicca’s focus turned back to Tara’s lifeless body in time to see a bright glow emitting from the fatal chest wound. She was startled and eased her hold on Tara. The light intensified and surrounded her lover. “Tara?” questioned Willow, her face contorted with a look of concern, curiosity and fear. Her voice quivered. “Baby?”
The entire bedroom was aglow. A bright flash – lasting only a second – erupted in front of Willow. The intense light forced her to shut her eyes for an instant, and upon re-opening them she couldn’t believe what she saw. More to the point, she couldn’t believe what she didn’t see. Tara’s body had vanished. Willow’s eyes quickly returned to their normal emerald green as her anger subsided and bewilderment took over. She blinked a few times, trying to clear away the tears as she barked with a calm yet stern tone, “What the Hell is going on?”
Xander, his right shoulder grazed by hot lead, writhed in pain from the wound of burned, broken flesh. He looked to Buffy, quickly realizing she was far worse, and gingerly crawled to her side. “Hang on, Buff. I’ll get help.”
Willow couldn’t trust that the horror she just experienced was merely her imagination. Frantic, she stood up, hoping to somehow gain a better perspective on the situation. In frustration, she yelled to no one in particular. “Where is she?” She looked down at the floor where her lover lay bleeding just moments before, but there was no sign of her blonde beauty. Also there was no blood, no stains, nothing. Still in shock, she looked around the room half-expecting, half-hoping Tara would pop from the closet with an impish ‘Gotcha!’ But it wasn’t to be, and she expressed her concern in a slightly calmer voice. “Tara, baby?” The faint sound of a siren tinted the silence, turning her confusion once again to intensified fear. Dreading what she might see, Willow turned and walked toward the window. The siren was getting close…too close. Before she looked out to the street, her eyes fell on a bullet hole in the clear pane. “This is really happening?” she half-whispered.
Her eyes began to darken once again, but quickly changed back when she looked down to the commotion in the backyard and saw Xander leaning over Buffy. Though still blurry from a flood of stinging tears, her eyes tried to tell her the truth, and Willow wanted desperately to get a grip on exactly what it was they were saying. Buffy lay on the ground. Blood covered her shirt as well as the ground beside her. It was obvious that the seemingly indestructible Slayer was in serious trouble, and equally apparent was the blood-soaked right sleeve of Xander’s shirt.
The veins in Willow’s arms and face began to bulge, and the powers inside neared the boiling point. She turned away from the window and moved toward the bedroom door. By memory, her muscles carried her to step over a body; a body that wasn’t there. She stopped and brought her foot back to the floor, glancing down to the spot where she saw Tara for the last time. Her mind raced with feelings of confusion and rage, but her concern for Tara kept her dark powers at bay long enough for her body and soul to return to a more normal state. A missing Tara meant that Willow wanted answers. She jetted out the bedroom door.
The EMT examined Buffy’s wound and was quick with a command to her trainee. “Radio the hospital, Wilson. They’re going to need a surgical team ready. She’s lost a lot of blood.”
Willow stormed through the hall and headed for the ground floor. Her feet bound over the last third of the staircase at the same instant that a bright light flashed from the direction of the kitchen. Willow paid no attention to it, her concentration focused on getting to the bottom of Tara’s disappearance. Unknown to Willow, at that moment, Tara walked from the kitchen and through the dining room, enjoying her first bite of an oatmeal raisin cookie. As she watched for any falling crumbs, her smile grew. “Mmmm, these are good.” Interrupting her cookie-induced bliss was the sound of someone thundering down the staircase. Tara looked up in time to see Willow racing down the stairs and out the front door. “Wi---,” Tara barely spoke half a syllable before being cut off by the crashing sound of the front door slamming shut.
Buffy lay on a stretcher being wheeled to the ambulance, and Xander remained at her side, holding her hand. As the Slayer was lifted into the vehicle, Xander noticed Willow race out the front door. He gingerly trotted to her, needing to fill her in. “Will, Buffy’s been…” The redhead interrupted with a very stern voice, “I know. Who did this?”
“It was Warren. He…” Her wounded childhood friend wasn’t given a chance to finish. “Warren,” uttered Willow through gritted teeth. With seemingly no reverence for her hurt friends, she stormed off in the opposite direction.
Tara, ever-conscientious, returned to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, and carefully placed the plate of cookies and glass of milk on the top shelf. Determined to run after her lover, Tara was sidelined by a bout of dizziness that forced her to stop and lean against the kitchen island for support. Her eyes squinted, and the haze passed almost as quickly as it started. She shook her head clear and was ready to go.
Meanwhile, Xander stood stunned and confused. “Will?” A hand gently grasped his good arm. “Sir, we need to get you some help, too,” insisted the female EMT. Finally realizing he was in more than slight danger of losing consciousness, Xander reluctantly left Willow to her own agenda and climbed into the ambulance.
Concerned over Willow’s abrupt exit, Tara ignored her episode of light-headedness and briskly walked to the front door, opening it wide. Half expecting to see her green-eyed love on the other side, a smile formed on Tara’s lips. But Willow was nowhere in sight. Instead, Tara’s senses were assaulted by an ambulance zooming away, lights flashing and siren blaring. She knew instantly that something was not right. Eager for answers, she took two steps onto the front porch before hitting the brakes. She spun and entered the house, swinging the front door closed before heading back upstairs. Once in the bedroom she shed her robe and mentally chided herself. Again with the no clothes thing. That’s twice today.
Warren stormed into Willie’s demon bar, cocky as the day is long, removing his sunglasses like a cop on the opening credits of Miami Vice. As he strolled through the dimly-lit pub he shouted, “Whiskey! Straight up. And get a round for the house. I’m feeling generous!” The bartender looked at him with about as much regard as a stallion would give a fly crawling on its back. Warren gave no notice to the lack of attention given to his offer. Instead, he walked up to the bar, parked on one of the stools, arrogantly tossed the sunglasses onto the wooden bar top, and looked up at the TV to find that a news bulletin about a shooting was just ending.
“Hey! Hey, I killed her!” exclaimed the arrogant menace. He looked back to the TV and pointed at it. “I did that. I shot and killed that bitch Slayer.” The other patrons turned toward him, their odd-shaped, obscurely-placed, non-human ears disbelieving every word he spoke. Undaunted, he continued to boast through near laughter. “Right in her own back yard!”
A loud crash destroyed the calm inside The Magic Box. Its hinges strained until the door swung open hard by unnatural forces. Willow calmly walked in and the kinetic energy that swirled around her sent waves of electricity through the store. In a trance-like tone she uttered, “Time to hit the books.”
Back at the bar, a demon customer with a mouth full of gnarly teeth sat just two barstools away from the self-proclaimed assassin. He shook his thorn-covered head and chuckled. “No you didn’t, you loser. Weren’t you paying attention?” His jagged-pupiled, purple and orange eyes darted toward the TV and back at Warren. “They said some chick was shot in her backyard, yeah…but they also said she’s stabile at the hospital. Doesn’t sound real dead.”
Warren’s smug look changed to confusion. The bartender chimed in. “You took a shot at the Slayer and didn’t make sure she was dead? What did you do, pop off a few rounds then run away like some doofus?” The entire bar erupted in laughter as the bartender continued. “Slayers heal real fast, too.” The gnarl-toothed demon nodded in agreement and raised his glass to Warren in sarcastic reverence. “You did real good, there, buddy. She’s gonna get you good, and I hope we’re around to watch.” He downed his drink, slammed his glass onto the bar with a loud crack, moved his 6 foot 4 inch scarred and battered frame from his bar stool, and whacked Warren upside the head. “And I thought we had troubles from the Slayer.” He laughed with a loud roar and headed for the exit. “Oh yeah, boys.” As he waved his webbed left fin through the air he added, “We’re gonna want front-row seats for this!”
Willow quickly but calmly scanned the books in front of her. Anya lay on the floor, paralyzed from the unspoken spell Willow cast when the recently reinstated vengeance demon tried to stop her. The redhead used her ever-increasing powers to delve her hands deep into the books as if the pools of dark magic had been awaiting her indulgence. She closed her eyes and remained still as thousands of incantations flowed through her fingers, up her arms and through her entire body. In a matter of seconds, the books’ pages appeared blank. When her eyes opened again, the snow white orbs and emerald green irises were now lost in a sea of total blackness. With a deep, cold and eerily clear tone, Willow declared, “That’s better.”
Chapter Two
Dawn arrived home from school and wasn’t particularly surprised at being greeted by a quiet house, especially since she was home early. The silence was quickly broken, however, as Tara – now clad in jeans, a sunrise-blue v-neck shirt and open-toe sandals – clamored down the stairs.
Half way down, she noticed her favorite teen. “Dawnie!” The excitement was met with a big smile and equally ecstatic response. “Tara! I’m so glad you’re here.” They met at the bottom of the stairs and joined in a firm hug. Tara scrunched her face for a second. “I – I am, too. But something strange is going on.” Dawn’s curiosity was piqued as Tara took her by the hand and led her to the living room. With the young girl on the couch, Tara carefully perched herself on the coffee table across from her. “Willow and I were…uhm, talking and stuff and uh…” Tara replayed the morning activities in her mind, stopped mid-sentence, and looked away with the slightest hint of a grin before continuing. Dawn rolled her eyes with feigned disgust, but smiled, knowing that her surrogate “moms” were back together.
Tara re-focused and continued. “Well, okay, I came down here for cookies and milk and th-the next thing I know,” she pointed to the front door with a flagrant whip of her wrist, “Willow runs down the stairs and right out the front door! I knew right away something wasn’t right so…well, I tried to catch her but by the time I got my hands free to open the door all I saw was an ambulance taking off -- sirens and lights and everything.”
“Ambulance?” Dawn was taken aback by the usually-calm Wiccan’s anxious tone, and she knew that things were seldom good when paramedics were involved. Tara realized the fear she had created and placed her hand on Dawn’s knee. “No, I d-don’t think…” Tara stopped, closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. She could sense the ambulance wasn’t for Willow, but had a bad feeling that someone near and dear was in serious trouble. She re-opened her eyes and calmly continued. “I think Willow’s okay, but --” Dawn quickly interjected, “But what?”
Tara slowly stood up from the table. “I have to find Willow. I can feel it. Something’s very wrong.” Dawn sprang from the sofa. “I wanna help!”
“Are you sure?” Tara replied with a cautious squint. “And why are you home now, anyway?” Dawn shrugged her shoulders and replied, “Oh, some sort of teacher conference.” Tara’s eyes went wide with alarm. “A parent-teacher conference?” Dawn smiled, enjoying being the focus of Tara’s “mom” persona. “Nope. Teacher-teacher conference, I think.” Tara was relieved but curious. “So, do you have homework?” Dawn shrugged. “Nope. I was just going to watch some tube. Xena marathon on Oxygen.” Tara raised her eyebrows and quizzed, “You like that show, too?” “Yeah,” exclaimed the teen, “’cause the women kick a –”
“Dawn Summers!” Tara interrupted with a playfully stern look. Tara grinned but felt the need to change the subject. “Okay, well…l-let’s get Buffy. She’s probably still in the back yard. I bet she knows what’s going on.”
“What’s she doing back there?” Dawn asked. They continued through the dining room and kitchen. “I saw her working back there when I got the snacks. Looking for something in the bushes, I guess.”
“Cool,” Dawn responded. A mischievous smile took her over. “By the way. I get it now. Why you and Willow love Xena so much.”
“Hmm?” a distracted Tara replied while looking toward the yard.
Dawn joked, “The outfits are hot. They really don’t wear very much.”
Dawn, attempting to tease-and-run, flung the back door open so hard it bounced against the kitchen counter and quickly swung back, slamming shut before she could pass through it. Silently staring at the still-closed door, they both began to laugh. Dawn gave Tara a sheepish grin then gently re-opened the door and returned her attention outside. “Buffy?” Tara then joined her a second time in unison, “Buffy?” Each surveyed the yard but there was no sign of the Slayer.
In the hospital ER, Buffy lay motionless on the gurney, surrounded by a medical team. “BP’s dropped…80 over 40,” reported a nurse. The doctor’s focus lay solely on Buffy’s wound. “I can’t stop the bleeding.” Before another word came, the machines began to malfunction and the lights in the room flickered on and off. Another nurse yelled, “What’s happening?”
In the midst of the confusion, and seemingly from thin air, Willow quietly joined the ER.
Tara’s gaze paused on an odd pile of debris on the grass near the bench. “What’s that?” Dawn was near the side gate, which was uncharacteristically open, when she heard the question. She turned to see Tara pointing to the debris. Both women hurried toward the mess.
“Ohmygod.” Dawn’s face turned white. They stared down at a foot-wide blood stain surrounded by bloody gauze and syringe wrappers. “Buffy!” Dawn turned to run toward the front yard but Tara grabbed her wrist. “Wait!” yelled a panicked Tara. “We need a car.” Dawn’s mind was anything but rational as she screamed her response. “A car? Let’s just go! Buffy needs us! She’s –.” Tara reached up with both hands, gently took Dawn by the shoulders, and calmly continued. “Sweetie, we can’t just take off on foot looking for Buffy all over Sunnydale, because…” she paused for a second, scanning her surroundings. “Well, I know Sunnydale feels like it’s just two blocks long sometimes, but in emergency situations it has a way of stretching out from here to Cleveland. We need a car.” Dawn tried to wriggle out of Tara’s grasp but calmed herself long enough to let Tara’s words sink in. Suddenly Dawn’s eyes lit up. “Can I drive?”
Willow coolly stood beside Buffy’s gurney as Xander’s voice ascended to a hysterical pitch. “Will, what are you doing? She’s gonna die!” Without eye contact, she responded in an eerie tone, “No. She isn’t.” Within seconds, the bullet slowly rose from the hole in Buffy’s chest, and as if time were moving backwards, the wound sealed itself and disappeared. Xander backed away from Willow and stood at the foot of the gurney, his jaw fixed in disbelief. The bullet stopped in mid-air and hovered over Buffy for a few seconds before Willow reached to cradle it in her hand. “It’s so small.” She wrapped her hand tightly around it, brought it close, and with her palm up, re-opened her hand. The bullet was gone.
The local bus station was a veritable flurry of comings and goings. This was, after all, Sunnydale, the west coast’s hub of violently strange activity and inexplicable disappearances. Locals had long ago started a tradition of booking the next available ticket out of town whenever they felt it all get a little too close for comfort.
A young woman with curly brown hair, light brown eyes, several hundred freckles, and a generic customer service pantsuit stood behind the counter. As she punched at the keyboard with what seemed to be reckless abandon, she looked up to see her next traveler. “And how may I help you?” In front of her stood a frazzled Warren. His head moved continuously as he scanned the station for his nemesis, his sure-to-be executioner. However, within the confines of his mind, it seemed the station’s hustle and bustle wound to slow-motion, and his eardrums were assaulted by a piercing, vengeful voice. “We’ll find you, no matter where you go.” Instantly recognizing the voice, Warren turned pale. His scanning of the room ceased and he quickly looked back across the counter to see the woman’s freckly face morph to an innocent frowning Tara, followed by an angry, black-clad Willow. The latter’s darkened eyes turned to fiery red with each new word. “Soon…very soon.”
Warren lost the ability to form a complete thought and struggled for bladder control. The still-morphing being handed Warren his voucher, his right hand shaking so violently that the ticket slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor. The ugly heart beating inside his chest lurched as he leaned to retrieve his one-way “escape” pass. When he stood upright, his eyes were once again drawn to the morphing woman. A cheery smile greeted him as the unknowing booking agent – with curly brown hair, light brown eyes, and several hundred freckles – wished him a “nice trip.” He blinked, shook his head, and dashed for the men’s room.
Making sure there were no bus station patrons in any of the stalls, Warren wriggled under a locked stall door. There stood a functioning replica of himself – complete with matching wardrobe, shoes and haircut. He gave the synthetic life form a last look before presenting it with its mission. “Take this and get on the bus headed for Albuquerque.”
The Warrenbot grabbed the considerably wrinkled, sweat-soaked ticket, unlocked the door, and cleared the way for both Warrens to exit. The droid stopped short of the door and turned back to behold its creator, who had left the stall to lean heavily over a sink with his eyes fixed on the drain. “She’s right, you know,” exclaimed the machine in a matter-of-fact tone as it continued. “She’s going to find you.” Warren’s eyes widened, focusing on his creation with disbelief. “Just go! Now!” he snapped in a rage. The robot shrugged its shoulders and walked out.
A bruised and battered black Jeep Cherokee raced through the streets of Sunnydale, with tires screeching at every turn. “You drive great!” cheered Dawn. With a big smile, Tara thanked the teen. The junior Summers sat forward excitedly in her seat as she watched street signs rush by in a flurry. “I can’t wait to get my license!” she squealed. Tara, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead, allowed a crooked smile and responded, “Maybe I’ll go with you to get mine.” In her peripheral vision, Tara could see a shocked Dawn staring at her.
Buffy, Xander and Willow raced down the highway in Xander’s car. Though Xander was behind the wheel, he had no control. In a flash, the revenge-motivated Wicca used her powers to stop the car after a long skid, and instantly disappeared from the back seat to reappear standing on the hot pavement. “Why are you doing this, Willow?” yelled the Slayer as she tried to catch up to the black-clad Wicca. Xander followed but was slow to match their pace. The Slayer continued her argument with a stark tone. “We’re all alive…so just…just let him go. If he wants to leave, let’s just let him leave!”
Willow heard the words but ignored their meaning and continued to walk into the path of an oncoming bus that was closing in from a half mile away. She stopped moving forward and Buffy was able to catch up with her, grab her arm and spin her around. “You act like you want to kill him.” Willow calmed her eyes to their normal white-rimmed selves, looked to her friend, and replied in calm, if stern, voice. “And what’s wrong with that?” At that, she drew her left hand up and motioned the bus to a screeching halt.
The Summers’ family-mobile zoomed into the hospital’s red-striped ‘Ambulance Only’ zone. A loud shriek rattled the nearby patients and staff as Tara slammed on the brakes and brought the steaming vehicle to a stop. Both front doors of the Jeep flew open and the two occupants sprinted toward the hospital’s Emergency entrance. A security guard yelled out, demanding they stop. Knowing they were parked illegally, Tara feared the guard’s strict policy reinforcement would cost them time they could not afford. The two Scoobies spun around to see the security guard give them a nasty look then point tacitly to the green Jeep Cherokee that was slowly rolling backwards. With a smirk, Dawn turned to Tara. Tara’s eyes quickly glanced back and forth between Dawn, the rolling Jeep accidentally left in neutral, and the security guard. “Oops…ehh hehmm.”
Tara ran toward the wayward Jeep, glancing back to see that she and the SUV were out of sight of the guard. With a few choice words and a wave of her hands, the vehicle was gone.
She passed the guard on her way back in, giving him a quick look, a shy grin, and a shrug. “Sorry.” Dawn’s eyes turned wide as saucers as Tara simply directed her, “Let’s move.”
They ran to the ER and Dawn let loose, beckoning to anyone in earshot. “Where’s my sister?!” Meanwhile, Tara scanned corridors and peeked through ER bay windows. She noticed a pair of police officers speaking with a group of doctors and nurses just as one of the physicians pointed in Dawn’s direction. “Hey, that’s her sister!” The group turned toward Dawn, who rolled her eyes with disgust and chirped, “Okay, so I’ve been here before a few times. Where the hell’s my sister?” The female officer responded, “Whoa, calm down. If you’re referring to the woman brought in with a suspected gunshot wound, she just left with two suspicious indivi--.” Dawn scrunched her face with confusion and interrupted. “Huh? What? With who?” Tara’s expression changed to one of concern; she could sense that powerful magic had recently been used in the ER. “No, it can’t be,” she said breathlessly, scanning the ER corridor. Dawn looked to her accomplice and with eyebrows forced together tight, she wanted answers. “What? Do you know what’s going on?” Tara held a calm yet stern voice, “I think we’d better go, Dawn.” The officer, still browsing her notepad, heard the blonde stranger and swiftly interjected, “If you know something about who did this, you’re not going anywhere.”
At the outskirts of Sunnydale, Willow let go of the Warrenbot and watched the dead machine fall to the hot pavement. “A robot?” fumed Xander. “He’s good,” she stated flatly, and turned to walk towards Sunnydale. “Willow, stop!” The witch pivoted toward the sound of Xander’s plea, facing confused and concerned stares from both of her friends. She remained calm, explaining the day’s events in a cold, clinical tone. “Don’t you know?” She looked from Xander to Buffy before continuing. “Tara is dead. When he shot at you, he hit Tara.”
The air left Buffy’s lungs and she drew back in disbelief. “Tara?” Her black suit whisked in the hot wind as Willow continued. “She saw you two talking in the backyard, and turned to me, so happy for you both…” She paused while her thoughts became blurred. She began to feel what couldn’t be true: Tara’s essence still in this dimension. She tried to shake the feelings and continue. “A second later she was…gone.” Again the image of Tara lying dead in her arms broke through and she turned cold again, all sentiment gone from her throat. “I will find him. And those other two morons,” she affirmed. She spun once again in Sunnydale’s direction, and Buffy and Xander started after her. “Willow, you can’t --.” That was as far as Buffy got before a bolt of energy from Willow’s fingertips cut her short and threw both pursuers more than 30 feet back onto the dirt roadside. In a flash, Willow was gone.
Wasting time with questions from the police was not an option. The blonde Wicca gave a half-smile and responded, “Certainly, officer. I understand.” Tara put her arm around the teen and in a burst of blue and white sparks, they vanished from the uninviting corridor. In a parking lot across the street from the hospital, the Cherokee’s interior lit up with similar flickering swirls as Tara and Dawn appeared, each placed in her appropriate seat. “Whoa!” Dawn screeched, before settling herself, scanning for law enforcement, and looking at her blonde mentor in awe. “All right, Tara! Let’s go!” Not comfortable with – or sure how – this much power was coming so easily to her, Tara clenched her jaw and turned the key. The Jeep tires squealed and they sped away.
-to be continued-
