Ch 22
Angst Level: The overall story level is higher than the number of coffee machines in a Google office. Ch 22 isn’t bad.
There was nothing in her outward presentation to indicate unscrupulous intent. Quite the contrary, Tara stood mutely at the stove with her shoulders bowed, eyes unfocused though ostensibly watching the tea kettle as she waited for it to boil. She had been noticeably discomfited by Giles’ insistence on following her to the kitchen, though did not go so far as to object. If she had he would have insisted, politely but firmly.
She had seemed ready to bolt when he had opened the door to the Summers home, radiating guilt that made him wish for a moment he could reassure her. It was a fleeting feeling, however, and quickly overshadowed by caution. Any emotional reaction had to be arrested and withheld from influencing him until it could be properly analyzed for the potential of outside interference. He and Anya had finished producing another set of Willow’s protective charms, but he had reservations about trusting their efficacy entirely. Much as he admired Willow’s progress in magical endeavors, her results could still be a bit dodgy.
After the initial shock of Tara’s new situation had worn off, he had realized there was more to be wary of than then her seemingly uncontrolled magical influence on those in her proximity. There were a few times he had been unfortunate enough to know someone who had been made into a vampire. One case in particular had solidified indelibly his understanding that the vampire could mimic mannerisms to the point of being indistinguishable from their host. Questioning was fruitless, as they held all the memories as well as the physical form. If they did not encounter one who was acquainted with the warning signs, the vampire could, at need, infiltrate the life of their host for protracted periods before acting on their true nature.
Tara could be as such. Her mistakes could just as easily have been orchestrated, depending on the forgiving nature of those around her as she played merry hell with their lives. Was it coincidence that twice now Buffy had suffered at Tara’s hands? He could not deny the possibility any more than he could confirm it. Questioning her would be equally futile. His moment of passion at the hospital (poor choice of word, perhaps “adamancy” would be better) was one he regretted, for now she was aware of his suspicions and would be that much less likely to let slip any hint of ill intent.
If she was as she said she was, as Willow insisted she was, then there was no legitimate action he could take against her. As a victim to her own heritage, but one bound and determined to overcome her situation, it was tantamount to criminal to further harass her. All he could do was keep an eye on her and hope that his presence could serve as deterrent to potentially pernicious behavior.
Buffy was ensconced on the couch in the living room on a supportive nest of cushions and throw pillows, chatting animatedly with her friends. The only concession she had made to her abdominal injury was in the careful stillness with which she held her torso and the occasional quick breath when she moved too quickly. Xander was hovering with jovial obliviousness that didn’t completely obscure his concern, nor the acrid turn of his humor when their foray to Tara’s home was mentioned. Willow was hiding in plain sight as well, her conversation light, at turns thoughtful and trivial, but the careless exuberance that characterized her was not in evidence. She barely looked at Xander, but for the occasional glare as he spoke.
Tara startled at the whistle of the kettle, her sudden motion instantly drawing his attention. She did nothing more nefarious than turn off the gas and retrieve a mug from one of the cabinets. He wished he knew the exact nature of the herbs she was steeping but they had been prepared at the same time as those she had already used at her own home on Xander and Willow. The two appeared to have suffered no ill effect, but this was little comfort.
“Is this necessary?” He asked quietly. “If the link was already broken when Willow and Xander were fully disengaged from the spell, there should be nothing left drawing power from Buffy- am I wrong?”
“I… don’t know.” Muted blue eyes met his for only a moment before falling. “It seemed s-safer.”
Giles considered that. Convenient excuse, or true concern? Tara’s expression betrayed nothing different from its usual discomfiture when she was the focus of anyone but Willow’s direct attention. He nodded a bit more sharply than he’d intended, standing aside for Tara to carry her concoction in to his Slayer.
“Aaaand here it comes. The good news is that when the itching starts, the aftertaste stops bothering you.” Xander announced with a grin.
Tara stopped a little further away than custom dictated, making her reach out to hand over the steaming mug. Buffy sniffed and wrinkled her nose.
“I wish I could say it was something to do with the spell, but I just got careless. To much think, too little slay.” Buffy swirled the contents of the mug with a curdled look. “I don’t feel any different.”
“It’s better not to leave loose ends on a spell, either way.” Willow shrugged, but looked to Tara and got an affirming nod. “It’s not as bad as Xander says.”
“Not until she does her mumbo-jumbo. Then you tell me if it doesn’t feel like ants dancing all over you.”
“That’s not the spell- that’s the ink pulling out of the skin layers. So yes, it’s from the spell- but it’s not the magic doing the itchy thing.”
“Same diff.”
Buffy broke in, “Do I have to drink the whole thing?”
Tara nodded mutely, but Xander was the one who answered.
“Yeah, but your taste buds go numb after the first swig.”
Giles noted that Tara had drifted backward another few feet, her arms locked around herself defensively. Buffy took a tentative sip and offered an exaggerated look of disgust before attempting another swallow.
“Y-you need to take off the charm. For the spell.” Tara’s voice was hesitant.
Buffy didn’t quite cover her look of panic in time, nor the slosh as her grip on the mug faltered. He had seen her hand brush casually down where the charm was tucked in her waistband at least a half dozen times within the first few minutes of Tara’s arrival, but she had betrayed no particular concern beyond that. It seemed absurd that so competent a Slayer would quail in the face of what looked like a remorseful, uncertain young woman. Yet however formidable the physical power of the Slayer, she was nearly as vulnerable as the rest of them when it came to magic. Emotional matters even more so.
“Can I..?” Willow had risen to her feet and was offering a hand to Tara, but the succubus made no move to take it.
“It’s too soon.” Tara’s hesitance seemed genuine.
“Yeah Wills- you were in the hospital yesterday. Might wanna leave off the heavy lifting for a few.” Xander spoke over her.
The mug must have only been partially full because Buffy was already setting it aside. She curtailed further objections from Willow by addressing Tara. “So what do I do?”
“If it itches, don’t, um, scratch..?”
The incantation was brief and invoked a minor divinity that Giles could find no reasonable way to expect a threat from. Buffy looked uncomfortable, but not pained, and regained hold of her protective charm within moments of the spell’s completion without making a show of it. Fine, dark particles rose in a cloud away from her, drifting over and into the used mug on the side table and coalescing into inky liquid.
Tara stood for a moment longer with her eyes closed, opening them only when she swayed slightly. She sank down next to Willow, head lowered, and allowed Willow’s hand to snake around hers.
“So you found whatever it was you needed down there?” Buffy’s hands were moving, repeatedly drifting toward where the henna had purged before purposefully moving them away.
“Man- did we ever. Looks like Wills and Dennis Rodman are gonna have something in common.”
“Please tell me it’s shoes.”
Willow cracked a nervous smile at that, but it faded quickly. “Remember back in high school, when I told you about how I wanted to get a cute little dolphin on my ankle, but my stomach got ooky every time I thought about the actual needle-intensive process of doing of it?”
“You have to get tattooed?” Buffy’s surprised incredulity was met with Tara looking guilty, Willow queasy but at the same time somewhat proud, and Xander with a frozen grin that hid something, though it was unclear what.
Giles himself quickly reined in the fierce opposition trying to rend itself to the surface. His forearm was suddenly burning, though he knew it was all a psychosomatic reaction. There was a permanency to magic etched into the skin, binding one to the mystical in a manner so personal and indelible that without being utterly certain as to both the imminent and far-reaching effects allowing this to proceed would be unforgivably rash. He knew Willow too well by now to try to forbid it outright. He’d learned about the headstrong girl hiding under her seeming compliant manner. What to do, then? Obfuscating relevant material could prolong the process, but would he really accomplish anything? Willow was just as likely to go ahead with poor or incomplete information when Tara’s Draw began to reassert itself. The danger would be that much greater, the results that much less certain. Just how much time did they have? From what they knew so far, Tara’s feeding needs would continue to drop, but no one knew how quickly. On the old schedule she would already be dangerously long overdue.
An ache began to develop between Giles’ eyes and he removed his glasses to rub at the spot absently. It was times like this when the Council’s attitude about demons was quite appealing. You find them, you kill them, and on occasion you study them and then kill them. There were more dangerous and less dangerous demons, but there was no space in their doctrine for demons that were trying to overcome their nature. That she was failing thus far did not mean the task was impossible. How much leeway to give, though, when the consequences of inaction could be dire?
There was an ongoing war between his sense of caution and an unwilling protectiveness he harbored for the group chatting before him. To be comfortable in the destruction of vampires required the ability to ignore innocuous human facades in favor of the known facts about the inevitable viciousness of their kind. Looking at Tara, as innocuous as the word could possibly convey, still did not dismiss the possibility…
He had heard Buffy and Riley arguing that morning on a very similar subject. Riley was of the opinion that Tara needed to be at minimum “contained”, which had set off Buffy on a diatribe of what “containing” Tara could cause. They had been at odds over the reason for the lapse that resulted in Buffy’s current wound, Riley being convinced it had to do with the spell Tara had cast, Buffy insisting it was more mundane. In the end, he had accused her of defending Tara solely because she’d been manipulated into taking responsibility for the incident at Tara’s room. Buffy had snapped back that he was being… how had she put it?.. “such a man” about what she had done. The row had only escalated from there, culminating in Riley’s stormy exit past where Giles had been hesitating at the doorway, reluctant to intrude.
In reviewing Buffy’s staunch defense of Tara, Giles came to his decision, though not without misgiving. He would watch, he would wait, and he would keep her where he could find her. He would remain involved in her proposed magical undertakings, and steer their research towards safety as best he was able. He refocused on the conversation when he heard the click of the front door, realizing Xander had made his goodbyes already and left. The conversation had clearly shifted radically, with an accompanying increase in tension between the young women before him.
“You still haven’t told Dawnie?” Willow’s voice was an aggravated stage whisper.
“I don’t know how, Will…” Buffy sounded tired.
He had spoken to Buffy about Tara’s realization of the Key’s presence in their lives. When she heard that Willow was in on the secret as well, Buffy had conceded that it was time to tell Dawn what they had learned. The more people knew, the more dangerous it was that Glory would find out, and at that point Dawn’s ignorance would be unfortunate. It seemed odd at first that they were more concerned about Dawn finding out from Willow than from Tara. To be fair, Tara was only in contact with Dawn sporadically, usually trailing after Willow at the Magic Box with others around. Even if she were the permanent fixture in their daily lives that Willow was, however, she was so careful with her words that to slip seemed improbable, and so private in her manner that the risk to the discretion asked of her was remote.
“I mean, what do I say? ‘You know how you always said you couldn’t believe mom would have another kid after having to deal with me? Guess what! She didn’t!’ She wouldn’t believe me about dad being the tooth fairy, so why would she believe me telling her she’s-”
“Buffy!” He interjected quickly. Home was a word that most associated with safety, comfort, and some level of privacy. In these times, though, there was no telling who might be listening.
“You’re hoping she never finds out, aren’t you.” Willow looked between the two of them. “Either of you. You hope this will all blow over and it will become a big non-issue for the rest of her life… she’s in danger, and you don’t think she deserves to know?”
“It’s why we didn’t tell you, Wills. Or Xander.” Buffy didn’t sound apologetic. “Anyone who knows is a target. And a risk.”
It was the wrong thing to say. If she had thought about who she was speaking to, even Buffy had to be aware of that. Just replace the secret of Dawn’s existence with the secret of vampires and Slayers. All of the people in this room except Buffy herself were here because they had chosen not to remain ignorant. They chose not to turn around and pretend it wasn’t so, not letting it fall to others to make their ignorance peaceful.
Willow didn’t respond to Buffy immediately, but her expression moved into one appropriate for a drawn out argument. Giles saw her abort what looked like one of her rare but acerbic tirades as Tara’s hand came to rest lightly on her upper arm. The two girls shared a glance the he didn’t properly see, but whatever it was left Willow tense, quiet, and glaring between him and Buffy.
“It was perhaps not the best judgment to delay informing you when we determined the truth of the matter, but you must recall that this is rather a more severe situation than you faced when you were in high school- and Dawn is fifteen. I don’t know that she’d be capable of carrying on as if nothing had changed. Any alterations in behavior would stand out and draw attention. It’s bad enough that she’s Buffy’s sister…”
“Yeah, this is one occasion that I’m happy that the bad-y doesn’t take me seriously.” Buffy sounded insulted in spite of her words, but it truly was something to be thankful for. “All we need, though, is for the focus to change and… Will- do you know how many times you’ve been kidnapped since you started hanging around me? And Dawn… do you even remember when Faith was decided that she and Mom were the best way to get at me? I can’t make her a target again.”
“She IS a target. She just doesn’t know it.” Willow responded acridly. “Yeah, I seem to have a big neon sign declaring ‘Hey, I’m helpless, pick me!’ over my head, but you know what, Buffy? At least I know why it happens- and it’s about you. Not me. But this time it’s about her. Not because of you- because of her being what she is.”
“As soon as I know how to fight this thing- give me that much time. Please.”
Willow looked back to Giles and asked the question he was hoping to avoid. “You have leads?”
“Not as yet. I have discretely requested some additional materials from the Council that should be arriving any day now.” As extensive as the library he had accumulated was, it paled before the stacks of the Council archives. The lack of reference material on Glorificus was discouraging, and he wasn’t as well set up to research the Key. It wasn’t demonic in origin nor evil in nature. There were few legends, mostly regarding those who had learned of even older legends and sought for it unsuccessfully. There was no reason to anticipate that it would ever be directly involved with a Slayer. Far more likely a force of darkness seeking it crossing their paths, in which case the finer details would matter less than those regarding the seeker.
The timing of Tara’s transformation had been extremely inopportune in manifesting. Willow’s assistance with the research would have been invaluable, if only in expediting their realization that the Council’s resources would be required. She might even have dug something up from the internet, though that was really more wishful thinking than any realistic expectation.
“Buffy, what if Dawn finds out on her own? What do you think she’ll do, if you haven’t told her…” Willow had changed her tack, seemingly taking a page from Tara’s position on the matter.
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“Haven’t told me what?”
Dawn stopped in the entryway, looking at her sister and the usual posse gathered around her. It was so typical. Big group shindig without her, figuring out just how little they could get away with telling her. She knew there was more to it than that- she hadn’t been that self-centered in a long time. It wasn’t like when she found out about what Buffy did at night and she assumed her older sister had only kept her in the dark, while everyone else knew what was going on. Still, when walking in your own front door, it was just rude to find out you were being purposefully left out. She’d entered when Xander had left, him holding the door for her like some overplayed butler with a teasing grin. She’d curtseyed in a similarly exaggerated manner and chatted briefly with him on the porch before waving him goodbye. Turning back to the half open door she’d heard her name from Willow and just enough to know that she’d been the topic of conversation, she’d decided against the morally ambiguous notion of eavesdropping and trust in the bludgeon of guilt to find out what was going on.
Willow had a look of panic, while Tara just looked weary and concerned. Buffy was in the ‘ouch couch’ position, so her expression was hidden, but Dawn imagined the exasperation it would hold. Giles was being Giles-y in an all-knowing sort of way.
How would he feel if they left him out of stuff? Not that there was anything for Dawn to withhold. School, school, people they didn’t know, music they didn’t listen to, more school. It wasn’t like she had anything that could compete with what they chatted about over pizza. Sure, Willow would act all excited when she brought up what she was studying, but since Dawn usually brought the subject up because she needed to vent about it, they were odds even there.
“We were discussing the situation with Glorificus.”
The pause before Giles spoke had been a bit too long. She didn’t think he’d lie outright to her, though he certainly had experience with that from before Buffy had come out about the Slayer stuff. Omission, though? Serial violations. Dawn took off her backpack, leaving it on the stairs, and leaned on the wall to the living room, arms crossed and her incredulity as plain as she could make it. She waited, letting the awkward pause make it clear to them just how obvious they were being with the lie.
“Dawn…” Buffy started to turn, but abruptly stilled.
She’s hurt again. Really hurt. Dawn started to regret being pissy about what she’d walked in on. Buffy had been embarrassed and angry after her first encounter with the demon in a red dress, trying to shrug off what had clearly been a painful beating. If she was trying to enlist her friends’ help in pretending she hadn’t gotten hurt again, stupid as that was, Dawn didn’t intend to rub her face in it.
Not yet anyway. Not till Buffy was back on her feet. Then it was open season for teasing. Now that Dawn had seen the wince, though, she couldn’t ignore it.
“What did she do to you?” She hated the way her voice sounded when she was worried. The waver sounded so stupidly weak. Afraid, when she wasn’t really. That Buffy was getting her ass kicked wasn’t exactly comforting, but it was one of those things that happened before she turned around and dispatched the latest whatever-it-was.
Buffy looked acutely embarrassed. “This… wasn’t her.”
“Ambushed by something?”
“Ah… no.” Buffy sighed. “Just a run-of-the-mill, everyday vampire.”
“Right.” Dawn said flatly. As excuses went, that was just an insult to her intelligence. So she wanted to conceal what big evil was out there? Fine- but at least come up with something believable.
“It was.” Buffy shot back. “God, why do you have to assume everything I tell you is wrong?”
“Because you never tell me what’s going on- or if you do, it’s to cover up for something bigger.” Dawn glanced over at Willow, whose utter inability to maintain a poker face was useful in these cases. There was a wince there, then oddly enough, a hint of a smirk. Whatever the big cover-up was about, Willow wasn’t totally on board, then.
“We don’t know enough about Glorificus as yet to try to keep information from you, Dawn.”
“And why would I come up with something as embarrassing as getting stabbed by a newly risen vamp?” Buffy added heatedly.
“She’s got a point… and it’s like the car accident thing. Y’know? Most of them being within 5 miles of home? Because that’s where you are most of the time, so you’ve got this huge ‘n’ value. Even when the probability is low, it’s still more likely.” Then Willow added quietly in the same chipper tone, “Though if you’re Buffy, the probability of a car accident isn’t actually all that low, even close to home.”
“Thanks.” Buffy grumbled.
“Okay- so a vamp got lucky with you.” Dawn capitulated, enjoying Giles’ little sputter at her wording. “That’s the big hush-hush?”
No one jumped in. A sudden fear wrapped tight around Dawn’s throat. “Is it about mom?”
“NO. No. She’s doing fine- they moved her out of ICU today and in a couple days they said they’ll take out the bolt- the head pressure thingy.” Buffy wasn’t giving off any hint of deceit.
Mom had seemed okay when they saw her that weekend. The thing sticking out of her head had been sickening the first time Dawn saw it, like something out of Frankenstein. There was something innately wrong about a tube connecting the insides of your head to… just about anything.
“Did they say when she’s coming home?” Dawn asked hopefully.
“Dr. Hsu wouldn’t commit to anything.” Buffy shrugged carefully. “And honestly, I’d rather everybody was sure she was okay than that she get back here fast.”
Dawn nodded reluctantly.
“She’ll have to go all the way back down there for checkups with her doctor after she’s out, right?” Willow asked tentatively.
“I guess, since there isn’t a neurosurgeon up here anymore.” Buffy said with a hint of bitterness. Dawn knew she still blamed herself for not going out on patrol that night. The vampire that the substitute group of Giles, Xander, and Riley had missed ended up draining the only neurosurgeon in Sunnydale. He wasn’t the nicest person, but it was still sad in addition to inconvenient.
“You can’t save everyone.” Dawn said before everyone went on a guilt kick, either for not being where they were needed, or failing at what needed to be done.
“Speaking of avoiding bad things- I need to get to class. There’s a late session for the one I missed this morning. If you need me for anything, we were going to head over to the Magic Box and hit the books for a while after.” Willow rose, Tara following soon after.
“Good luck.” Buffy gave them a grin as they made their way out.
Dawn watched them go, trying to pick out signs that Tara wasn’t human. It seemed like one of those things where someone would eventually turn around and laugh at her for being gullible enough to believe the ‘demon’ thing. Tara was just too normal, too blandly nice, too environmentally conscious to be a demon.
She let the conversation wind down from there without prying further. She’d just wait till she could catch Willow alone. If Buffy wanted to play hardball, Dawn would just wait till she could go for the weakest link in the conspiracy of silence.
---TBC
Replies: WillsRedemption- As an angst monger, I heartily approve of the unease about Will's wellbeing after the spell is fully severed. Buffy's injury is intentionally timed with when it happened in canon (since I run on the assumption that episodes did not follow actual time, but rather sequential timeline that show the highlights of what occurred during a year), so whatever the characters may think, the audience has to wonder if it wouldn't have happened anyway. Writing stories involving ripple effects from single canon changes like this makes it tempting to abandon all canon events, but I like the challenge of making things stand that probably wouldn't be affected by the ripple. There are others that occur anyway, but for different reasons.
zampsa- That's what they've been searching for... if it were easy, though, it'd not be much of a story. As it is, there's a problem of trying to make something as procedural as this story have some sort of structure. If I made the trip home into the climax point where all was made clear, that would work in story structure- tension from family interactions, plus resolution as Tara gets to make her final break from home at the same time as solving the situation she and Willow are in. Yet it would feel wrong to me with too much tied together at one go. So there have to be a few more tribulations, at the expense of a singular turning point.
Till next time- Never
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