Chapter 35
Patrol the next evening was proving unremarkable until it wasn’t. Buffy had split the team up, sending Sam, Tara, and Spike to clear Evergreen Cemetery and the downtown, while she and Riley headed for the docks; Xander had the night off. By eleven, Sam had checked in via cell phone to report all was clear and her team was heading to home and crypt. Buffy explained she and Riley were about to do the same, and then no more than five minutes after ringing off, she and Riley suddenly found themselves in a fight with a clan of heavily armed Miquot. Fortunately, Riley and she had taken to carrying blades and nightsticks in their boots in addition to the usual stakes, holy water, and crucifixes, what Buffy didn’t expect was that Riley was also packing a micro-pistol loaded with armor piercing bullets.
The fight ended in minutes, the clean-up, of course, took longer, first finding the necessary rope, then bundling together the bodies so that the corpses wouldn’t float after being heaved off the wharf. They were heading back to the house when Buffy finally said aloud the words that had been churning in her brain since she’d seen Riley unholster the gun he’d kept hidden at the small of his back.
“What were you thinking. We don’t use guns.”
“The Slayer doesn’t use a gun.”
“We don’t use guns because guns have this tendency to create collateral damage. We don’t use guns because gun shots attract police. We don’t use guns because most of the time bullets are ineffective against demons.”
“Bullets took out seven Miquot just fine.”
“We don’t use guns because I won’t have it.”
The two came to a stop. They were nearly to the house, no more than two blocks away, standing on Elm Street and surrounded by homes filled with people sleeping blissfully unaware of what roamed the streets of their city each night.
“I get it. I get that you hate Spike and that you miss your old life, the one before you got sucked into the Initiative. I get that you would do pretty much anything not to be a part of my world. I get that demon hunting sucks and that any ideas you had about noble adventure pretty much ended the first time you come up on a vamp or a polgara or a vahrall or a hellhound chewing up some little kid,” Buffy said, the words coming off her tongue like tiny shards of ice.
She swallowed, and then she said something else, something Willow had helped her to see, forcing down her anger, regaining her calm, “And I get to know I was chosen. Some men millennia ago made a decision that put me here. And I know you don’t have that. You don’t know the exact turn you made that resulted in your being here with me. But here you are, and I need you. I need you to help me fight what’s coming next. God knows I need you for that. But I need Spike, too. And I also need you to accept that I set the rules of engagement.”
Buffy waited. Riley had to make a decision. He needed several minutes. He offered a stiff nod, and then the two of them continued walking. When they reached the front porch, Buffy gave Riley a quick glance. The set of his shoulders was different. She smiled inwardly. Out loud she said, “I also need you to help me chaperone the Homecoming dance this weekend. Are you up for what promises to be worse than body dumping a clan of Miquot?”
A smile Buffy recognized from long ago danced on Riley’s lips.
“You paying for the tux?” he asked.
“Yeah, but lately I’ve feeling a little whimsical. It might be powder blue with ruffles.”
“Just so long as it doesn’t have those stripes of ribbon down the legs, I’ve got a reputation to maintain, you know.”
Buffy laughed and they headed inside where she could already scent the popcorn and hot chocolate waiting for them.
***
Homecoming night began with a limo rented and piloted by Xander, dressed in a tux that everyone charitably did not remember from his aborted wedding day. The ride to the high school, it’s newly refurbished gym resplendent in ribbons, balloons, banners, and crepe paper, took place following a flurry of picture taking, Willow commandeering the digital camera from Buffy in view of Buffy’s well-known inability to comfortably frame a photograph. This left Buffy to instruct Dawn, Lisa, Kit, and Janice, who’d managed to break up with her boyfriend/date three days earlier, to assume a variety of poses including one involving the girls standing one to a step at the staircase rail and another involving each of the girls holding forth her wrist corsage, each of the corsages a gift from Willow and Tara, thus solving the great flower giving dilemma.
Buffy and Giles arrived separately to the dance in Giles’ new and beautifully detailed sapphire blue Honda CRV, which he not only insisted on driving himself, but for which he also commandeered two parking slots to protect the finish, a point of fact Buffy was still commenting upon an hour into the festivities, while she and Giles manned the punch bowl.
“Safeguarding my new vehicle from door nicks does not mean I’ve turned into some addle-brained Southern California hyper consumer, to use your simultaneously condescending and over-worded description,” Giles said, as he handed off a glass of punch to a young man who reminded him of the young man who’d fallen under the influence of Moloch, the corruptor and whose name he could no longer recall.
Buffy, having decided she’d already sufficiently teased Giles for becoming car proud, even though she had one gibe left in her arsenal involving a prior automobile extravagance memorably described as red and looking like a penis, said, “Was it just me, or did that kid look like a blonder version of Fritz. The kid who turned himself into one of Moloch’s minions sophomore year.”
“I believe he did,” Giles said, staring after the boy. “Sad what happened to him, more so to his friend, Dave.” His eyes caught on Anya, who was on the other side of the dance floor and who appeared to be confiscating a flask of some kind. “Anya is stepping up to tonight’s duties with exactly the expected level of zeal. Still, why did she offer to take over for Riley?”
“Anya needs to earn more ‘service’ points. She’s trying to win some downtown association prize, and volunteering for Homecoming duty brings in, I think she said, 50.”
“Of course, she is,” Giles said.
“Also, Riley wanted to have a date night with Sam. I think he asked, and Anya jumped at the offer. Anyway, he and Sam should be out on patrol now, but they had dinner reservations for Marconi’s earlier.”
“You and he had a talk, I take it,” Giles said, trying to steer the conversation as gently as possible, while also making sure to keep his eyes averted from Dawn, who was presently dancing with a boy he believed might be the famous Kevin Berman, famous according to Willow, at least.
“We’re good for now. But he won’t stick around after we finish off Warren redux.”
“Riley said as much?”
“Not directly, it’s just the feeling he’s been giving off. I’ve been thinking he wants out of the demon hunting business. Maybe not out, out,” Buffy said, thinking over what she was saying. “It’s more like Sam’s still all with the mission, but I keep thinking Riley wants to do more than mop up work.”
Giles turned to look at Buffy, not sure what Buffy meant by “mop up work.” Before he could ask his question, she added:
“When we had it out the other night, I said something I hadn’t really considered. It’s different being the Slayer versus being a demon hunter. One’s a calling, and the other’s, let’s face it, mercenary work. Riley and Sam go where they’re needed, but also where they’re solicited. And the people doing the soliciting aren’t always the best people.”
Giles poured another glass of punch, this time for a young woman he knew worked as a part-time cashier at the drug store around the corner from his bookshop. He’d not realized she was still in high school.
“Sam mentioned to me their government sponsors in Thailand were more concerned with tamping down bad publicity in order to protect the tourist industry than protect the citizenry,” Giles said. “Much the same as it was in Brazil. You think Sam is less bothered by their work?”
Buffy put on her thinking face. “Sam might be ready for a change, too. She’s still a doctor. She must miss that.” Buffy offered Giles a measuring stare. “You’ve been ready for a change a lot longer.”
Giles poured two more glasses of punch. One of the two recipients surprised him by saying, “thank you.” He wondered if Buffy had been guiding their conversation as much as he’d been, both of them endeavoring to get the other to be forthright. He liked the irony.
“Tara and I had a lengthy talk this afternoon. Sorting out our new roles.”
Buffy smiled but said nothing, waiting for Giles to continue. Giles needed a few moments to gather his thoughts.
“Albert’s training methods confound me entirely. With me unaware, he’s prepared me for a job for which I am entirely grateful. And he did the same to Tara, I mean our Tara. She’d no idea he had chosen her to become his—.”
“Apprentice,” Buffy said. “Willow and I figured that one out yesterday. It’s been sweet how you and Tara have been avoiding the word. So, apprentice, but not to be a wizard. Tara wasn’t only being trained in magicks, she was in training to be a fighter, too. I keep remembering something Willow told me about this time our Tara just picked up a battle axe and planted it along some demon’s spine.”
“Page or squire might have been the more apt term,” Giles said. “Our Tara was to be Albert’s knight. His instrument for retrieving lost books of magick. There’s thousands of them, some of them scattered since the fall of the Libraries of Alexandria, many more of them since the destruction of the Watchers’ Council offices. And then there’s the whole world of grimoires, the unpublished works by witches. Some of it schools of magick misremembered or no longer remembered at all. And each and every one of these books vulnerable to falling into the hands of …”
“A Warren Mears or a Jonathan Levinson or an Andrew Wells or an Amy or a Fritz or a Dave and the list goes on and on.”
“All of this training, and all of it done inside of our dreams. It’s really no wonder our new Tara had such a rough go of it when her soul was combined with our Tara’s.”
“Tara and I have been talking about it while patrolling. Dreams within dreams, combining memories, and then some other stuff. More like prophecy.”
“Like prophecy,” Giles echoed. “Tara certainly anticipated Albert’s murder. I asked her about it, and she’s not had the nightmare of bodies hung from street lights since the Brocton massacre. But prophecy or preparation? It’s not at all clear the full purpose of Tara’s dreams, and I suspect we, she will never entirely know it.”
Buffy’s cell phone sounded, and Giles quieted as she opened a text. The expression on her face caused him to ask, “Trouble?”
***
Spike scented the pack before he rounded the old Savings and Loan, now repurposed as an art gallery, coming off Magnolia onto Lincoln. There were seven of them huddled together like they’d just dropped from the sky or came up from the earth. He’d never fully understood where hell hounds came from. Darla liked to claim they were some dog demon hybrid done up by a long-ago wizard. When they were in China, Angelus said they were pure demon risen up from the netherworlds. Spike supposed it didn’t really matter where they came from; they were hellish little beasties all the same.
He’d been heading for a poker game in the backroom of Willy, the snitch’s bar, now he pulled out his cell phone and shot a text to Buffy. He then shot the same text to Willow, Xander and the others. Riley texted back first, saying he and Sam were nearby, ETA less than a minute.
He heard them first, poncy-boy Riley coming up from behind on his clod-hopping boots. He shot a glance over his shoulder and saw Riley and Sam dressed in their usual stealthy black, and he wondered if that was what they’d worn out to dinner, Willow had mentioned to him it was supposed to be their date night. He pushed the thought away; he’d spent far too much of his undead life speculating about how the living-half lived.
“Best way to cope with these little buggers is fireballs away,” Spike said, softly.
“And none of us magic-users,” Sam said, just as softly. “Which means we do it the old-fashioned way.” She pulled a collapsed cross-bow from her backpack. “I’ve got three bolts for this puppy.” She looked at Riley, “Give Spike your long blade. He’s better on it than you. You take the cross-bow. I’ve got my short blades.”
Riley might be a shining example of the shortcomings of the living, but at least he chose well in a wife, Spike thought as he dropped his cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it with the heel of his boot. He took Riley’s long blade in hand; it was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, finely balanced and with a grip black as midnight and a blade that with sufficient force could probably remove the head of a bear. Chose well in a wife and a blade.
***
Willow was reading Spike’s text to Tara and Xander when Tara stopped everyone short. They were patrolling Pioneer Cemetery. “Other side of the crypt. Hellhounds. Can’t tell how many, but sounds like at least five, maybe six,” Tara said.
“You can distinguish one of them from another,” Xander said. “Impressive.”
“And what’s up with that smell,” Willow said.
“Hellhounds eat carrion, as well as their own kill. They’re more like hyenas and coyotes than dogs,” Tara said. She held out her hand and almost instantly a small blue flame began dancing atop the palm.
Willow put out her hand as well, and the flame split into two, the second moving atop her palm. “Xander, hang back a bit.”
Tara took point as they started on a wide berth of the Dillingham Crypt, circling around as quietly as they could. As luck would have it, there were six of the beasties busily tearing apart an adult coyote and an unknown number of pups, snapping at one another as much as scarfing down the fresh meat, and, fortunately for the Scoobies, too busy to give them any notice.
“Will, try to catch the one towards the left. It’s the biggest, so it’s probably the pack leader. I’ll try to catch the first that scatter.”
Willow nodded. She moved to a better vantage point and took fire. The pack leader exploded in an inferno of fur and limbs. Bile rose up in Willow’s throat, as she formed another fire ball.
Tara took out two others that broke in the Scoobies’ direction. The remaining three broke, one to the right, two to the left. Tara was able to catch the one heading rightward. She called out for Willow and Xander to follow as she began chasing the remainder of the pack.
***
Giles gestured for Anya to join him and Buffy at the punch bowl, and then Buffy quickly informed Anya of the latest incursion.
“We need to see how many packs have been released,” Giles said to Buffy. “Anya, if you could hold down things in here, Buffy and I might find a more secluded place for me to open up a scrying pane.”
“What do you want me to do about Dawn?” Anya asked.
Dawn was now group dancing with her friends Kit and Janice.
“Nothing for now,” Buffy said. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and the hell hounds won’t be heading for the school.”
“Let’s not alarm ourselves unnecessarily,” Giles said.
Looking worried, Anya agreed to the plan and headed back across the dance floor.
“We can hide out in my office. It’s just down the hall from the cafeteria,” Buffy said.
Seconds later, Buffy was pushing her surprisingly tidy desk to the side and Giles was crouched down on the floor. He produced from his pants pockets a small, cloth sack and from his jacket pocket a thin bottle. “Casting base and sanctified water courtesy of Albert, his special formulas for both. Given our current circumstances, I no longer leave my home without it.” Giles worked quickly, setting out the materials as he said an incantation that called upon something Buffy thought sounded like Sybellia. She’d been expecting Giles to call on Aradia.
The scrying pane was translucent and rectangular. Buffy could see the tile floor of her office as a kind of haze below what looked like an aerial view of Sunnydale. Giles twisted and pulled the pane until he had a view of what Buffy instantly recognized as the downtown.
“I’m too new to this to be able to read it quickly, but I think that patch of pulsating green is Spike’s hellhound pack. What I want to do is see if I can spot any others.”
Buffy’s cell phone chimed. “That was Willow. She, Tara, and Xander just took out a pack of beasties at …”
Giles interrupted, “Pioneer Cemetery.”
“Six of them. Can you center that thing above the high school? If we’ve got incoming.” Buffy didn’t finish her sentence. Giles understood the problem.
“I would have thought there were more of them at the cemetery,” Giles said, as he continued to reshape the pane until he could see the high school at center. “All right then, that’s Sunnydale High. And I’m seeing two other packs. One of them is at the water tower; the other is moving down what I think is Lexington Avenue.” Giles stood up. “Both packs are heading this way.”
***
Riley hit the pack leader square through the throat, killing it instantly, as Spike made a wide circle around him, blade held high overhead, taking after the three that immediately bolted right. Riley realized his mistake almost instantly, he’d not hit the pack leader. Heart pounding, he slapped a second bolt onto the cross-bow and took aim.
***
Giles headed back to the dance, leaving Buffy to head out to the parking lot. Their first priority would be to ensure everyone was inside. He spotted Anya standing at the exterior doors, preventing a small group of students from heading outside. He was wondering how soon Anya would resort to her demon’s visage to keep the students inside the building as he made his way atop the makeshift stage on which was playing a four piece and, in his view, truly awful Ska band.
“If I could have everyone’s attention,” Giles said, after taking the microphone none to gently from the lead singer’s hand. “We’ve been informed a pack of wild dogs is heading towards the high school. We’ve been advised everyone is to shelter in place until further notice. Please keep a safe distance from the exterior doors and windows.”
In any other high school in America, Giles was convinced, an announcement such as the one he’d just made would have resulted in a rush to the doors. A Sunnydale upbringing, however, prepared for a very different reaction. With satisfaction, Giles watched as the students moved towards the center of the dance floor and the food tables that lined the interior walls, Dawn and her girlfriends included. He handed the mic back to the lead singer, mumbled “carry on,” and jumped off the platform, making a fast clip to join Anya, who continued to stand in front of the exterior doors.
“I’ve locked them all so that nothing can come inside unless we allow it. Excepting, of course, any hellhound that wants to hurl itself hard enough to break through the glass. Which is probably every hellhound.”
Giles was about to respond when he spied Principal Wood heading their way. Unlike Giles who was resplendent in his tuxedo, Wood was dressed in a pair of jeans and a Sunnydale High School sweatshirt. Giles repressed a momentary flash of annoyance as he wondered why he’d been pressed into chaperone duty and the principal had not.
“Buffy stopped by my office to inform me there’s trouble coming our way. You’re Mr. Giles, I take it, Robin Wood, principal of Sunnydale High. I hope you’ll excuse my informal dress, I was working on the spring semester scheduling,” Wood said, holding out his right hand. “Ms. Jenkins and I are acquainted from her participation on the Downtown Merchants’ Association.”
“Rupert Giles, Mr. Wood, I’m happy to make your acquaintance. I understand you’ve some experience with extreme possibilities,” Giles said, wanting to feel out how open the high school’s newest principal was to Sunnydale’s more unusual attributes.
“I’ve received a couple of briefings from Mayor Bennington’s office.”
“Right, then,” Giles said. He tried to put a face on the current mayor. If he remembered correctly, Bennington was a Clava demon. For a second he was distracted, wondering if Bennington was related to Harold, then he pulled his thoughts together. “We’re in all likelihood about to be visited very soon by at least two packs of, uhm, wild dogs.”
“He means hellhounds,” Anya said. “There’s no point in trying to sugar coat hellhounds,” she said to Giles, to Wood she continued, “Demon mad dog things, lots of teeth, lots of claws, lots of slobber, and they stink to high heaven.”
Seeming to think Giles was about to object, Wood said, “I’ve witnessed Ms Summers do some extraordinary things in the school parking lot since starting here. I’m not someone who is incapable of accepting what my eyes can see.”
“Good to hear,” Giles said, just as the interior doors to the cafeteria opened and Buffy pushed inside about a dozen students, and headed his way.
“Parking lot is clear. I found a couple of additional kids smoking in one of the corridors. Anya, Mr. Wood, can you keep everyone contained in here. If things get dicey, take everyone to the biology labs and lock the fire doors. You’ll be safe there.” Buffy said something quietly to Anya and then turned to Giles. “I’m heading back out. I could use a hand.”
“Of course,” Giles said, but he sounded unsure.
“Go on, Ms. Jenkins and I have this covered,” Wood said to Giles.
Giles nodded and followed Buffy; once they were out of the cafeteria and into the corridor Buffy said, “I’ve got a cross-bow and two long blades stashed in my office. Tara said the best defense against hellhounds is fire.”
“When hit with a fireball, a hellhound ignites like over dried timber. The trick is they can run like the wind and turn on a dime. Have you heard anything more from the others?”
“Xander said they’d be here in,” Buffy glanced at her cell phone, “about seven more minutes. Of course, they can’t come here overland.”
“Understood,” Giles said as Buffy picked up her pace and he followed suit.
***
Riley’s second shot put a bolt into the true pack leader. Unfortunately, it missed the demon’s throat and lodged in its left shoulder. Before he could launch the third bolt, the demon was on top of him. Riley rolled with it, trying to kick it away as he shielded his throat with his arm. And then the thing was off of him, or rather split in two, the head gone one direction, the torso the other. Through the spray of blood and gore, Riley saw Spike, coat billowing behind him, reach for his hand to pull him from the ground.
“Move it, the other beasties got Sam cornered,” Spike said.
Riley came off the ground, his free hand pulling his nightstick from his boot.
***
Xander blinked back a steady rivulet of blood from a wound incurred when one of the hellhounds bounced him off of a headstone. Other than that, the three of them were fine, although he could tell both Willow and Tara were spent from having launched dozens of fireballs. The six they’d initially spotted turned into a pack of twenty-five, maybe thirty. Xander had lost count. Ahead, he watched his green light turn yellow then red. He moved into the center of the road and accelerated, his eyes darting left and right checking for oncoming traffic. The crossing at Miller’s Way wasn’t usually busy at this hour, and all the lights on Adams’ Street were timer based. He blew the intersection at about sixty miles per hour.
“There was a time when I used to say you drove like my grandmother,” Willow said from the shotgun seat. “I’m not going to say that anymore.”
“Anh sent me a text. And I know you can’t hear someone’s voice when they text. But she sounded scared.” Xander shot a glance at his best friend. “Anh doesn’t do scared.”
“She’ll be okay, Xander. We’re almost there,” Tara said from the back seat.
Xander took his hand off the wheel to flick away blood that was caught in his eyebrow, then clamped it back onto the wheel as he took the next corner, barely keeping all four car tires on the ground.
***
Spike charged down the alley that ran between 4th and 5th street, darting around the dumpsters that were parked outside the rear doors. He wondered if the hellhounds had been drawn to the restaurant district by the smell or been dumped there. Behind him he could hear the pounding of Riley’s boots trying to keep up with him, ahead he thought he heard a scream. Also ahead, a dumpster that had been pulled into the center of the alley. Spike leaped into the air, his speed alone propelling his feet as he ran along the side of the building before lighting back onto the ground. He heard another scream, and he knew it was Sam. He ran faster.
***
Giles stood with Buffy near the eastern edge of the high school parking lot. He brought the scrying pane with him, and he was tracking two separate packs that he believed would soon merge. Behind him he heard a squeal of brakes as a car bounced over a curb and came onto the parking lot.
“Xander,” Buffy shouted.
And then footsteps as Xander, Willow, and Tara joined them.
“Have you heard from Spike, Riley, or Sam?” Willow said. “We got a message, but now it’s radio silence.”
“I’ve tried calling all three,” Buffy said. She glanced towards Tara and then back to Willow. “Are you two ready?”
Tara held out her hand, two small balls of fire balanced atop the palm. She nodded.
***
Spike rounded the corner, coming out onto Charles Street to find Sam already on the ground and surrounded by three hellhounds. Sword held high, he came at the beasts, neatly severing one head, then a second before plunging the blade deep into the mid-section of the third, twisting as he pulled out. Entrails spilled from the creature, littering the ground with blood and guts. He saw Riley as he came out of the alley, and he heard Riley’s scream before he looked down to see Sam, lying face down, her body ripped open from her neck to her lower back.
Spike fell to his knees, wanting to cover his face, his ears, not wanting not to hear, not wanting to see.
A car drove up and stopped a few yards short of the three of them. Spike heard a shout and looked up. Clem stepped out of the driver’s seat and ran to them. In his coat pocket Spike felt his cell phone vibrate. He pulled it out and found a new text from Willow.
“See to them,” Spike said to Clem. “I’ve got to get to the high school. There’s another pack of the things heading that way.”
***
Spike had already run three blocks before he thought to steal a car. He hot-wired a small pick-up truck he found parked on Magnolia, and arrived at the high school in the thick of what turned out to be the last attack of the night. Although Xander would have to go to the hospital to receive stiches to close the wound along his hairline, the others Buffy, Giles, Willow and Tara were unhurt. Spike pulled Buffy aside to tell her Sam was dead.
Chapter 36
A little over a week later the shock of Sam’s death had abated, and there’d been more fights, the usual complement of vampires risen and a smattering of other demon types including a Chaunga demon, a bipedal reptilian-like creature Giles identified as previously unseen in North America and last witnessed in Argentina in the eighteenth century. The shock had abated, but it had turned into a deep sorrow. Riley, of course took the loss hardest, seeming to have aged a decade in a matter of days. Buffy found herself unexpectedly dreaming a nightmare from years ago, a dream of trying and being unable to save her mother, a dream she’d not had since those terrible weeks following Joyce’s death while she’d had to fight Glory. As for Willow, she fell into a new pit of guilt, as she compared Riley’s stoicism to her utter and violent collapse in the wake of the death of her beloved.
It was Halloween morning and Tara came into the kitchen to find Dawn already up and making coffee. This was new.
“You’re drinking coffee? I thought you were strictly a hot chocolate girl,” Tara said, not bothering to disguise a yawn.
Dawn shook her head. “I heard you get up and hit the showers, so I thought I’d get up and get the pot started. Buffy’s still asleep. Willow, too?”
“Asleep after a pretty restless night,” Tara said. She took her seat at the counter. “Thanks for getting the coffee started.”
“No problem. I heard you and Buffy get in around midnight. Everything okay?”
Tara heard the part of Dawn’s question left unasked, and answered it first. “Riley’s okay. We chased down another polgara demon and three vampires. Nothing big.”
“And he’s settled in with Mr. Giles?”
Riley had moved into Giles’ spare bedroom the day before.
Tara accepted a cup of freshly brewed coffee made double-strong, her favorite. “Settled in,” she said, “And thank you, for this and for looking out for Willow last night while I was on patrol.”
Patrol the previous night had also included Spike and Giles. Xander remained on the injury list until tomorrow, when his stiches could come out. Willow remained too shaken from the hellhound attack to join in, and so Tara had partnered with Spike. The new rule was each patrol had to include at least one magic-user.
“Buffy said there’d be trick or treating, tonight. Are you staying in or going out with your friends?”
“Staying in. I like to hand out the treats, which reminds me. I need to stop at the grocery over on 25th street to pick up the candy. They’re the only one that sells the five-hundred piece bags. Could you run me over after school? I’ve got a half-day, but Buffy has a meeting with Mr. Wood. Probably more security plans. He’s been pretty wigged since the hellhounds came to Homecoming.”
Tara needed to think for a moment.
“Sure, I can drive Willow to school in her car, and then keep it for running errands. But I have to be available to pick up Willow in time to take her to Stefan’s for her hair cutting appointment at four.”
“Great and no problem. I’m going to head upstairs to shower and get ready for school,” Dawn said.
Tara drank her coffee enjoying it, the morning sun through the kitchen window, and the morning quiet of a full house. She was on her second cup when Willow came downstairs in her bathrobe and slippers.
Willow dropped a kiss on Tara’s cheek before pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“Double-strong,” Willow said after taking a sip, “Thanks.”
“Thank Dawnie. She made it.”
Willow made her surprised face, and Tara got up and moved around the counter. She wrapped her arms around Willow’s waist, from behind, and kissed the back of Willow’s head.
“You were crying last night,” Tara said softly.
“It’s so dumb, so selfish. I keep thinking about Riley and what he’s lost, and I’m so grateful I have you. And I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve having you.”
Tara moved around so that she could look into Willow’s face.
“It’s not a question of deserve. I can’t think that way. If I do, then I have to ask myself how do I deserve you.” Willow started to object, and Tara placed a finger over Willow’s lips. “Will, I allowed the Apprentice to escape. If anyone owns w-what happened to Sam, it’s me. And it’s me twice-over because my Sam died because of me, too.”
Willow shook her head sharply. “That’s not true. None of its true. Your Sam died because of the Master, and the Apprentice escaped because you were blind-sided. And now you’re here protecting this world from what’s coming.”
“Just like Riley’s Sam,” Tara said. She waited for Willow’s expression to relax. “Will, none of us can fix the past, and n-none of us can ever make up for the errors of the past. All we can do is move forward and try to do better. I need you to let it go, not your grief, only this guilt. You’ve already made amends enough, Will.”
Willow heard as much what Tara said, as she did not.
“You know you’re the new super-witch. You and Giles. I haven’t been able to raise the elementals. Not on my own.”
“And that’s because Giles and I haven’t had enough time to work with you. I have all of Tara’s dream-work, and it s-stretches back for almost a decade. And Giles’ thinks his dream-work began at least five years ago. Give it time, Will. You’re a Revane witch. Embrace the lineage. Embrace the native talent.”
Tara knew she’d earn a Willow smile simply mentioning the name Revane.
Willow pressed her forehead to Tara’s. After a moment, she said, “Okay.”
And Tara knew Willow’s spirit wasn’t yet healed. Grief could never be put away so easily. But she also her Willow had come back to her. Blessed be.
***
Many hours later, Tara felt all too happy to have to leave the Magic Box to pick up Dawn. After dropping Willow off at the university, she’d headed to the bookstore, but then Giles’ had sent her to give Anya a hand after Anya had called him in a panic because the store was being over-run, in Anya’s words, with “dimwitted customers wanting wards against hell-beasts and black arts wannabes hoping to score magic beans to grow their very own demons.”
Once there, the situation had struck Tara as far less dire. Admittedly, the store was unusually busy for a weekday afternoon, but it was far from the madhouse Anya had described. For Tara, the only thing extraordinary about the day was the number of adults, young and old, dressed in Halloween costumes. For her Halloween had always been a children’s festivity, something outgrown by the time a child reached the age of twelve. Once again, she was struck by the differences between her birth world and her adopted one.
Not a mad house, however, was still tiring. Tara’s morning had been largely spent running up and down the basement stairs restocking the herb and spice counter, counseling customers on the finer points for choosing tarot cards and candles, and listening to Anya alternately rejoice over the day’s profits and complain about the amount of dirt the customers were dragging into the store (a heavy rain storm the night earlier had left the streets and sidewalks muddy).
Dawn was waiting patiently in front of the high school’s main doors when Tara swung by driving Willow’s Prius.
“How was school?” Tara asked, hoping she did not sound in anyway parental.
“Some seniors took control of the announcement system as a prank, and Mr. Knight did a sort of Halloween themed thing in chemistry class, but mostly it was the same old. Do you know how to get to Vons from here?”
Tara nodded. Before heading to the Magic Box, Tara had used Giles’ laptop to pull up a Google map. Of all the computer applications Willow had explained to her, Google mapping had struck her as the most useful by far.
“Do you know a good place to buy sewing materials?” Tara asked as she made a right turn onto eleventh street. Using Google, she’d already identified a few stores, but she wasn’t confident of her results.
“Sewing materials. You mean like fabric and thread and stuff. You want to make clothes or something?” Dawn said.
“Or something,” Tara said, “I want to make a meditation shawl. I couldn’t take mine when I crossed into this dimension. I need a piece of white or off-white cotton or linen, an embroidery loop, and black embroidery thread.”
“There’s a shop called Mrs. Crafty that sells sewing supplies. It’s not far from the Vons store. Kit goes there sometimes. She’s into macramé. So, what’s a mediation shawl? I mean, I know what mediation is, but why do you need a shawl?”
Tara slowed the car as she passed a bicyclist. “The shawl s-symbolized the separation of this world from the living world, the world of magicks. It’s not magickal in itself.”
Dawn thought for a moment. “Are you going to make one for Willow, too.”
“Willow has one, or at least one was left for her. I found it in the annex. I think Albert was keeping it for her.”
“Grandma Irene’s,” Dawn said, and then after a few moments she added, “You’re not sure if you should give it to Willow.”
Tara signaled and passed a slow-moving panel truck while contemplating an answer, unsure how much to say, wanting to make sure she clearly said what she thought.
“It’s like this. I want Willow to embrace who she is, what she is. She’s a witch. She’s got this calling inside of her. And I realize how wrong things went for her.” Tara glanced at Dawn. “And for you and everyone else. But the main reason things went wrong was no one knew how to guide her. It’s not anyone’s fault. Witching is different in this world.”
“Different in this world, how?”
Tara made the turn into the Vons’ parking lot, which was loaded with cars and people running about with shopping carts. She parked the Prius between two much more expensive cars, a Willow request and standard practice.
“When true witches get cut off from their lineage, their talents rise inside of them all the same, but the wisdom of their lineage isn’t there to shape the talent.”
“True witches?”
“Most anyone can cast a simple spell, but only a true witch can call up the wind, for example. Your Tara was part of this group at the university—.”
“The Daughters of Gaia,” Dawn said. “I met some of them.”
“Me, too. Any one of them could have done a simple casting if they’d had the supplies and a spell, but none of them could have called up the power inside of Willow. There’s basic ability and there’s true talent.”
“And the true talent runs in families,” Dawn said.
“Pretty much. I mean it has to start somewhere,” Tara said as they entered the store. “I don’t really know where the talent comes from.” She followed Dawn down an aisle loaded with bags of candy.
“And because Willow was cut off, she didn’t have the Revane lineage to guide her. Like Giles was there to train Buffy,” Dawn said.
Dawn chose three bags of candy, and Tara resisted questioning if 1,500 pieces of suckers, smarties, peanut butter twists, and jawbreakers were really necessary. The few times she’d gone trick or treating with her little brother, they’d visited no more than the ten or so houses on their block, each of them coming home with maybe thirty pieces of candy. For all of the people milling about in the store, the checkout lines moved quickly, and they were soon finished with their first errand.
“Giles is a true witch, too,” Dawn said, as they got back into the car, “Buffy told me a little about how when Giles was young he went sort of dark magick-y.”
“Willow told me some bits and pieces, too,” Tara said, as she pulled out of the parking lot. “I’ve been doing some research into covens, and most of them seem more like the Daughters of Gaia, made up of people who start off thinking magick as something cool more like an activity,” Tara said. “But it wasn’t always this way. There were these witch hunts in the middle ages and later. There was a more recent one in some place called Salem. Maybe that’s when things changed.”
“No witch hunts in your reality?”
“Not like the ones in this reality,” Tara said, “Where I come from, witch hunting didn’t become a thing until the Master rose. I turn left here, right?”
“Yeah, make a left here, then a right at the next intersection. Mrs. Crafty is about half of a block in, but you’ll have to street park. Buffy still can’t parallel park for—.”
“Willow thinks Buffy’s Slayer senses countermand Buffy’s normal sense for three-dimensional space,” Tara said, grinning and as she neatly parked the Prius.
***
Mrs. Crafty was owned by a middle-aged woman named Laurie who wore her hair in a short spikey haircut and sported black framed glasses. Tara wasn’t quite sure what she’d expected, but this woman was not it. After explaining what she wanted to make and the basics of what she thought she needed, Laurie helped Tara pick out a beautiful piece of fabric, and then another piece for Dawn, who’d decided she might also want to learn to embroider. Besides the embroidery thread and loops, Laurie also suggested a tracing pencil for marking the fabric. Tara and Dawn were in and out of the shop in a surprisingly short time, as Mrs. Crafty, like apparently every other Sunnydale retail business was busy due to the holiday.
They were almost to the house when Dawn spoke up.
“You know that I wasn’t exactly born, right? That I was created by some monks who made a human being to safeguard what they called ‘the key,’ right?”
“I have your Tara’s memories, so yeah, I know. And I know about the memory thing. I know in Buffy’s memories you’ve always been her sister and in Willow’s and the others’ too.”
Something Dawn had said earlier came back into Tara’s mind, and she pulled the car over.
“What’s going on, Dawn?”
Dawn shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs, and then she reached into the glove box and took out a pencil. She stared at it for a moment, and then let go. The pencil hovered in the air, absolutely still.
Tara breathed in the scent of magicks now in the air. Willow’s scent reminded her of cinnamon with a hint of cumin, Giles’ was more like coriander, and Anya’s was bergamot. She remembered Albert’s scent had tasted of nutmeg. Dawn’s was of pine.
Dawn had said no words to shape a spell.
“When I was thirteen I started dreaming,” Tara said, “weird dreams of me walking through woods or along a shoreline. And the nights before the seasons would change, my whole body felt like it was kind of electrified. We call it the quickening. It happens when true witches are going through puberty. When we start to connect with the living world.”
The pencil dropped into Dawn’s hands. She turned to look at Tara.
“But I didn’t really go through puberty. The monks made me fourteen.”
“And girls don’t usually finish puberty until their fifteen to seventeen,” Tara said, not at all sure how she remembered that little piece of information, whether it was something her counterpart had learned in high school or Willow had somehow mentioned in passing.
Dawn said nothing, and then Tara realized something else.
“Buffy doesn’t know, neither does Willow.” Tara said.
“They’ve never wanted me anywhere near magick or slayage or anything even remotely demon-y. I think Mom kind of made Buffy promise her.”
Tara was tempted to ask “What about Anya or Clem or Spike,” but she refrained, instead, she said, “They’re going to be a little wigged, but you need to tell Buffy and Willow.” She reached for Dawn’s hand and wrapped her fingers around it. “Don’t be afraid of your gift.”
***
Willow was waiting patiently at the bus stop on University when Tara swung by to pick her up, and, as Tara feared, Willow instantly knew something was up. But Willow surprised her by accepting the latest news was not Tara’s to tell, and easily pivoting to complaining about the closing of the coffee cart next to the computer science building.
“It’s totally unfair. There’s coffee carts by the humanities and the fine arts complexes, but nothing for computer science, and we need our caffeine doses more than those guys. Seriously, coding cannot be done without a steady supply of espresso, red bull, and British style tea.”
Tara made sympathetic noises as she shuttled Willow to Stefan’s, enjoying the ordinariness of the conversation and remembering how Willow’s other Tara had likewise enjoyed “Willow in her element.”
They found Stefan at his shop, ready for Willow’s cut, and with three packed pieces of luggage stowed by the front counter. He explained after he’s finished washing Willow’s hair and started the cut,
“News about the hellhound attack made it all the way to L.A. A friend of mine called to find out how I was doing,” Stefan said, while he used the edge of a comb to measure the length of left and right sides of Willow’s bob. “It’s pretty obvious something’s on its way to old Sunny-D, and Lorne thought it might be a good idea for me to clear out for a bit. Not the best timing since business has been picking up again, but what’s an artist to do?”
“I get it,” Willow said, glancing at Tara, before adding, “and you’re right, something’s on the way here.”
“It’s not just me. Other folks are doing the same, waiting through the Halloween rush and then heading out. Not really sure if L.A. is higher ground, but there’s a LACMA show I want to see,”
“Los Angeles County Art Museum,” Willow said to Tara.
Tara nodded, remembering a time when Willow and her counterpart had gone to the museum to see the Tim Burton show. It occurred to her she’d like to visit the museum herself. Maybe after they’d finished with the Apprentice she and Willow could drive to Los Angeles, and then she realized she was thinking about a real future, about a life beyond stopping the Master and his minions, and a feeling of gratitude opened up inside of her, so great her eyes teared.
Oblivious to her thoughts, Stefan and Willow kept up a steady-stream of chit-chat, both of them making an effort to include Tara, but Tara was happier to listen to them, liking hearing a conversation that had little to do with the Apprentice and mostly to do with Sunnydale shops and restaurants.
“So how are you heading to L.A.?” Willow said.
“My friend Laurie and I are going to carpool it. You might know her, she owns the sewing shop on Arlington Avenue.”
“Mrs. Crafty, Dawn and I were there today to pick up some sewing s-supplies,” Tara said, sitting up.
“You sew?” Stefan said.
“I used to sew a lot. Mostly patching things, but I made a dress once, and I’ve hemmed pretty much all of my pants. I also like to do embroidery.”
Tara started to feel self-conscious.
“That’s great, maybe you could take-over mending duty for a while,” Willow said, “not that I’m trying to shuck off my chores, except of course that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”
“What are you planning on making?” Stefan said. He picked up his blow dryer and started styling Willow’s new cut.
A tiny twinge of panic shot through Tara at the sound of the blow dryer, but she swallowed it down.
“A meditation shawl. I lost mine a while back, and I’ve been missing having one.”
Tara trusted Willow to understand she meant she’d had to leave it behind with everything else she’d owned when she’d crossed into this reality.
“I hemmed the edges while I was at Mrs. Crafty’s. Tonight, I want to create the transfers. They’re pretty straightforward. Symbols for the four elements.”
“Appropriately Wicca,” Stefan said. “You know Laurie used to be part of a Wicca group. Back when all of us were in high school, which would be back in the eighties. You should see my high school year book photo. I was in the middle of my Pet Shop Boys obsession, shaved head and over-sized glasses. My mother was furious.”
***
Tara and Willow brought pizza from Marcello’s home for dinner to help celebrate Halloween and because neither was in the mood to cook, a decision met with acclaim by Buffy and Dawn, but also Riley who had stopped by to hand out candy with Dawn. Giles had declined the dinner offer, preferring to spend the evening instead re-shelving books in the annex, the store closed for the evening despite it being Thursday. Xander and Anya were out on a date.
“He used the word date. Like Xander asked Anya out?” Willow said.
“They should be a Bangkok Thai right now,” Buffy said, taking plates out of the cupboard. “Probably done with the satay course and onto the curry and noodle dishes.”
“I hope Xander gave in and let Anya choose the noodles. She likes the wide, flat kind and he always wants to get Pad Thai,” Willow said, taking the stack of plates from Buffy. “Grab some of the salad bowls, too.”
“I thought we were out of lettuce.”
“I picked up two of the large Caesar’s; they’re a Riley favorite.”
Buffy did as asked, and the two headed through the swing door into the dining room where, remarkably, the dining room table was already cleared of the usual debris of books and homework projects.
“Thanks for clearing the table, Riley,” Buffy said to Riley, who was standing next to the front door holding an over-sized bowl of Halloween candy. He was dressed in his old Initiative fatigues and had a toy machine gun slung over his shoulder. Dawn was standing next to him and dressed in her “politically incorrect” witch costume, complete with a slightly bent pointed hat, a floor length black silk gown, and a short cape. Out of deference to Willow’s heated objections, she’d foregone her nose wart.
It was going past eight, and the trick or treating was down to the last few dribs and drabs, mostly middle and high schoolers, most in the most cursory of costumes.
“I’m going to put the bowl out on the porch and shut off the light,” Riley said to no one’s objections.
Minutes later everyone was at the table eating pizza, the conversation soon enough returning to Xander and Anya and their date.
“So, when’d he ask her out. Timing on these things always matters,” Riley said, serving himself a large portion of the salad.
“On Monday,” Buffy said.
“So, plenty of time so that it didn’t look like a last-minute thing,” Riley said approvingly.
“He was trying to avoid the casual vibe,” Dawn said. When the others looked at her in surprise, she said, “Xander and I talk.”
Buffy smiled and shook her head. “I’m sure you guys do. So, what’s with the embroidery projects. I saw the stuff sitting on the coffee table when I came home from school.”
“I’m making a meditation shawl,” Tara said, as she tried to decide for or against a third slice of pizza.
“When Sam and I were in Bali, we met up with a witches’ coven that wore shawls when they did castings,” Riley said.
It was the first time Riley mentioned Sam’s name in passing. Tara caught Willow’s glance.
“This is more for centering,” Tara said, “while I give thanks.”
“To the goddess?” Buffy said.
“Not so much personified. More like for the world itself, but not this world—.”
“Like the anima mundi?” Riley said.
“Again, not so much personified. I’m not praying for anything or to anything. It’s more like observing my place within the greater universe, what my mom called the living world, acknowledging that I’m but a part of s-something bigger than myself, but a part all the same. My mom, I mean my mom from the other reality, I remember her saying chants when I was a little girl. I’d sneak out of bed to listen and watch.”
“Our other Tara was raised a Christian,” Buffy said. “But not so much the friendly kind, more the hell-fire and judge-y kind.”
“Tara used to chant, and she took me to the Buddhist temple, once.” Dawn said, looking at Tara. “Buffy and I were pretty much raised to be heathens, unless Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny count,” she said to Riley, adding after a quick glance at Buffy, “Mom kind of wigged on Christianity after the whole MOO think and almost burning Buffy and Willow at the stake.”
“Wow, mom and MOO. I haven’t thought about that in years,” Buffy said.
“She wasn’t sure what she believed, but she liked exploring. Tara, I mean. She always wanted to go to synagogue, but she knew you were more secular,” Tara said to Willow, “and she really liked going to your church.” Tara had to think for a moment. “The one off Lexington, right?”
“Yeah,” Riley said. “We went a few times. Tara liked the singing best, I think. I’m not sure what she thought of Reverend Eldridge.”
“Now that you’ve said that, I kind of wish I’d taken Tara to my father’s synagogue, even though I can’t remember the last time I went,” Willow said.
“Didn’t you and your dad go to Yo Kipper services a couple years back?” Buffy asked.
“Yom Kippur.” Willow corrected distractedly. “Wow, you’re right. I forgot all about that. I should have gone with him for high holidays this year. I sort of was thinking I would.”
“But then everything kind of blew up because of me,” Tara said to Willow. “I know. Not my fault, but still—.”
“We should all do Thanksgiving this year,” Willow said, reaching for Tara’s hand. “My mom will still be in Chicago, but my dad could come, and Giles, and maybe you could stick around,” Willow said, looking at Riley.
“Maybe, “Riley said.
“That was kind of a mysterious ‘maybe’,” Buffy said to Riley.
“I didn’t mean it to be,” Riley said. “So, is there any left-over birthday cake for desert?”
***
Hours later, following an uneventful patrol, Tara slipped into bed next to Willow, who was reading again from Irene’s book of shadows. It felt good to be off her feet, even if patrolling had been uneventful. She also liked that Willow had put on some perfume and was wearing her silk nightshirt.
“Riley changed the subject pretty fast when it came to what he’s going to do next,” Willow said as Tara settled next to her.
“I know he’s not planning on rejoining his cadre. I sort of overheard Riley and Giles talking yesterday.”
“They’re thick as thieves, lately,” Willow said. She put Irene’s book atop the night stand. “You also sort of overheard Dawn talking to Buffy and me in the kitchen, after dinner.”
“I was trying to stay out of it,” Tara said, her cheeks coloring. She offered one of her lop-sided smiles. “Dawnie didn’t need an audience. So, what do you think?”
“I’m a little wigged. Buffy, too. We both kind of hoped Dawnie would escape the family business, you know.”
“I know,” Tara said softly. “And I get it. There’s this little part of me that hopes my Donnie, the one I left behind, is able to stay out of the magicks and just be a—.”
“A regular Joe or Jack or Donnie,” Willow said. She laughed softly. “Between teaching me and Giles and Dawnie, you might be starting your very own Hogwarts, you know.”
Tara smiled at Willow’s joke. Still, she had to ask, “You and Buffy understood Dawn’s a conjure witch,” needing to hear the words spoken aloud. “Like you and Giles.”
“It’s weird. Not Japanese commercials, this time. It’s weird, because I keep wondering if the monks planned it, or if it’s just some random outcome, and also because I can’t stop thinking about how Giles and I both went wrong, me more so than him, but at least I didn’t set loose a possessing demon.” Willow offered a tiny smile. “Knowing Dawn will need help to accept her gift somehow makes it easier for me to do the same.”
Tara placed a soft kiss atop Willow’s lips. It was the first time she’d heard Willow call her talent a gift. She slipped down onto her back.
“Grandma Irene left behind her meditation shawl. That’s why I didn’t buy fabric for you. Also, you smell really nice.”
“I do, do I?
Willow slipped down as well. She tucked her head against Tara’s shoulder.
“I love you,” Willow said softly.
They exchanged another kiss, and then another, and then both fell softly into a dreamless, restful sleep.
Chapter 37
The next day Willow was folding laundry on the bed when she felt a buzzing feeling on top of her tongue, the buzzing feeling quickly seemed to move off her tongue and onto her skin, like tiny sparks of electricity. Because she’d left her cell phone charging in the kitchen, she had run down the stairs, through the front room, and to the kitchen counter. A text was already on the screen. “Giles, Riley, and I are heading for the old high school. Buffy is heading there from the new H.S. Xander/Anya in route.” Willow took a breath, and then another, and then another. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t even dressed to go outside. She had to swallow hard as bile rose up in her throat. She wasn’t ready.
***
Buffy’s cell chimed in the middle of a meeting with Mr. Wood. She ignored his small sound of annoyance and checked her phone. There was a text message from Giles. Buffy looked up at the high school principal, who was sitting across from her at his desk and who suddenly looked far too young to her eyes.
“Remember the other night when the hell hounds decided to show up for Homecoming?” Buffy asked as she started to push her papers back into her messenger bag. She and Mr. Wood had been going over some new security policies for night games in the football stadium. “Something worse is showing up right now at the old high school.”
“Worse?” Mr. Wood said.
Buffy watched as all the blood seemed to leave his face, turning his usual warm chocolate brown complexion to something almost grayish. She knew she’d already tested him, but she also knew she had no other choice.
“My friends and I are going to see to the problem, but I need you to make sure Dawn stays here with you. And I would start thinking up a reason why no one leaves the campus until I give you the all clear.”
Buffy reached across the desk and put her hand atop Mr. Wood’s. You can handle this, she thought. “I’ve got this.” She stood up.
“Okay, then. Let me see—.” Mr. Wood pulled up some information on his computer. “Your sister is in the middle of her geometry class, she’s got a ‘study’ hour next. I’ll bring her here for study hour. She won’t leave my side.”
Buffy nodded and then she headed out the door.
***
“So, Giles thinks something or somethings are coming through the hellmouth, the actual hellmouth from back in the Master’s day?” Xander said to Anya. They’d been in route to the Magic Box from his apartment when Anya told him the vresh had signaled an incoming. Seconds later, she’d received a text from Tara. Xander had immediately made the mother of all illegal U-turns to head towards his old high school.
“He saw something on his scrying thing. The same thing he used the night of the hell hound attack.” Anya tightened her safety belt as Xander made a right turn at a speed greater than she generally preferred.
“I’ve got all my weapons in the trunk except my old sword. That’s under the seat of my pick-up.” Xander said. He glanced at Anya, who was wearing a sundress and to his mind looked especially adorable. “I’ve also got your old Sunnydale hoodie and sweatpants stashed back there.”
“I thought you said you’d thrown them out after we broke up.”
Xander shot Anya a quick grin. “Come on, Anh, you knew I was too sentimental to get rid of your stuff.”
Anya smiled back even though Xander’s eyes were back on the road. “Yeah, I knew.”
***
Giles wasn’t entirely surprised to find Buffy already parked outside the gate of the chain fence that surrounded the old high school when he pulled up in his SUV. He was, however, shocked to see her dressed in her old Initiative uniform.
“Where on earth did you find that thing?” Giles asked. He was dressed far more conservatively, he thought, in his dark pullover sweater, black cargo pants, and ankle boots.
“I keep it in the trunk of my car for emergencies. You know, like when I’m at my job meeting with my principal and someone texts me to say a pride of Tsuris demons are about to breach the hellmouth and I don’t have time to rush home and change out of my work clothes,” Buffy said.
“Point taken,” Giles said as Riley and Tara got out of his car, Riley carrying a bolt cutter. “Should we take care not to damage the fence?”
“A chain link fence won’t hold back a determined Tsuris demon,” Tara said.
She and Riley were both in jeans and Magic Box hoodies. Giles knew the hoodies were a recent advertising gambit from Anya. He also knew the hoodie she provided him would stay in its plastic bag packaging for the foreseeable future and beyond.
“Then I suppose not,” Giles said.
A few moments later, Xander came speeding up in his car, braking into a fast stop and sending bits of gravel scattering into the air.
“Nice sweatshirts,” Xander said to Riley and Tara as he got out of his car and headed towards the trunk. “I’ve got two cross-bows, three battle axes, two double-edged long blades, and a partridge in a pear tree.”
“Xander doesn’t have a bird or a tree. I think he is making a joke,” Anya said. “Everybody turn their back while I change into more appropriate clothing.”
***
By the time Willow arrived, Anya was suitably dressed, Riley had the fence gate open, and Tara and Giles had conjured a smaller version of Giles’ seeing pane.
“It looks like they’re still in transit,” Giles said to Tara.
“I’d be able to feel them if they were already passed over.” Tara glanced at Willow then Buffy. “When my cadre closed up the wounds along my back, I think they weren’t able to clear out all the saliva. I get this twitching feeling inside my scars.”
“Okay, useful, kind of gross, useful, and sorry about that,” Buffy said. She looked at Giles. “If it’s taking this long for the transit, that means there’s going to be a lot, right?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Giles said.
Tara glanced at Willow. “You okay, Will?”
Willow nodded, but her expression showed otherwise.
“So, the plan is we go in and … ?” Xander said, perching a long blade in his right hand and dangling a cross bow in his left. He had eight bolts, four apiece tucked inside his boots.
“Kill them as fast as we can,” Buffy said. She glanced at Willow, then Giles, Tara, and Anya. “But from what I hear fire’s the best defense.”
“Which is why we’re going to have to herd them outside.” Riley said. He had Xander’s other cross bow in hand, Giles’ cross-bow strapped to his back, and a total of twelve bolts tucked inside his boots.
“I’ve been working on conjuring one of Tara’s fire nets,” Giles said. “We’ll need to pair off, Willow and Tara. Anya and myself.”
“The fastest way will be to send them out into the courtyard. Riley, Xander, and I will get them moving down the corridor towards you.” Buffy said.
“We’re still thinking the hellmouth is going to open under the library,” Xander said.
“My seeing pane shows a dimensional thinning, and we have Tara’s foresight advising us of Tsuris demons and hell hounds,” Giles said, as he took a couple of practice swings with Albert’s old battle axe.
Tara adjusted the short blades she’d tucked into her boots, double-checking to make sure her serrated knife was on the right and the double-edge on the left. She had one of Xander’s long blades and her birthday battle-axe strapped to her back. “The hell hounds from my dimension are smaller. They have quills instead of fur, so watch out. If they have to, they’ll fling their quills, but once they do, they have no exterior protection. A good boot in the side would kill one.”
“Quills, plus the usual teeth and claws?” Xander said. Off Tara’s nod, he said under his breath, “Great, just great.”
“Okay, let’s go in,” Buffy said. “Riley, you take point. Xander take the rear, until we make the split at the cafeteria.” She glanced at Tara. “All of us know this building like the back of our hands, partly because we were chased by large quantities of hell spawn throughout high school. If things go sideways, follow the others.”
***
They came in through the facilities entrance to the school so that Xander could hit the power switches. Much of the overhead lighting remained damaged, but there was enough for them to find their way through the corridors.
“Wow, check that out,” Xander said as they passed a display case. “I’d have thought the wrestling team would have broken in here years ago to nab their one and only trophy.”
“Some people aren’t as sentimental as you,” Anya said, she caught Xander’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.
“I slept in here for a few hours after I crossed into this dimension, and I raided some of the lockers,” Tara said.
“Hoping you didn’t run across any of my old Playboys or Willow’s spice rack,” Xander said.
“Mostly I was looking for money. I found a lot of little baggies filled with weedy brown stuff that smelled kind of skunky, and pretty much every locker had a crucifix taped inside of it.”
“The culture of American high schools is remarkably consistent,” Xander said.
Willow stopped for a moment to stare into another display case. “Hey, the cheerleading trophies are missing. Those were just school competitions. Not state, not even local. That’s so lame.”
“Keep up with the group, Will,” Buffy said, but everyone could hear the smile on her face.
“No worries, I’m sticking like glue,” Willow said. She caught hold of Tara’s hand.
They rounded another corner and then another and then they were at the split. Everyone came to a stop.
“Okay,” Buffy said, “just so that everyone is clear on the plan. Xander, Riley, and I are going to kill as many as we can and flush the rest out to the courtyard.”
Tara thought of something, and only barely resisted raising her hand. “I have an idea. I can conjure a lure for the hell hounds. The Tsuris demons will follow them. The trick is we’ll have to work faster on the fire nets,” she looked at Giles.
“I can have one up in less than a minute. Not as quick as you, but fast enough I should think.”
“I like it. My biggest worry is having to corral stragglers heading into the other corridors. I’d rather just be thinning the herd,” Buffy said, glancing at Riley, who gave her a quick nod.
Xander pulled Anya’s hand to his lips for a kiss, and then everyone tried to hide their surprise when Anya responded with a gentle kiss on Xander’s lips. “Be careful,” she said. “Don’t be a hero.”
“Hero? Me? Never,” Xander said.
“I’ll say,” sounded a familiar voice.
Everyone turned around as Spike came into view.
“How’d you get in here?” Buffy asked.
“Sewer lines, electrical tunnel, then up through the furnace room. Got a text from Tara saying we’re about to have some fun,” Spike said. He was dangling a battle axe in his right hand. “Had some terrible luck at the poker tables last night. Killing some demons is just what the doctor ordered.”
“Okay, then. Why don’t you partner off with Xander? We’re going to try to flush them into the cafeteria than out into the courtyard. You guys will be keeping them from heading the other direction. Tara’s going to make some lure thing-y that should make your part easier.”
“Is there a plan to reclose the hellmouth?” Spike asked, as he lit a cigarette.
“The Apprentice won’t be able to open the hell mouths until he’s a part of this reality. For now, all he c-can do is create temporary dimensional riffs. The good thing is that they require a lot of focused energy,” Tara said.
“He’ll run out of gas right quick is what you’re sayin,” Spike said.
“The faster, the better,” Buffy said.
***
“I haven’t been in here since you were hiding out from the Initiative,” Buffy said as she and Riley forced their way into the library. “I spent so many hours in here.” She offered Riley a quick grin. “Little of it studying.”
The library was a mess of overturned tables and tipped over bookcases. There was a big hole in the center of the floor, and an even bigger one in the ceiling and roof. Overhead, a blue tarp fluttered.
“Giles and Xander spent some time in here collecting up the rest of his books,” Buffy said, as she picked her way towards the security cage, “but Giles’ had already moved most of them to his apartment in the days before graduation.”
“Is that where you guys used to cage up Oz on wolfies nights?” Riley asked, nodding towards the white fencing.
“The same. We caged up Willow’s doppelganger here, once, too.” Buffy came back towards Riley. “A lot of memories here, and most of them not nearly as bad as you might think.”
***
Spike lit another cigarette. Two fresh butts were scattered already at his feet. “So, you and Anh are back.”
“Working at it,” Xander said.
“Good to hear.”
Xander looked at Spike with surprise. “That almost sounded sincere.”
Spike exhaled a cloud of bluish smoke. “Well, I have my moments.”
***
Tara searched the courtyard while Willow, Giles, and Anya searched the cafeteria. It wasn’t long before Anya called out, “Got one, and it’s fresh.”
Anya brought the dead rat to Tara, holding it by its tail. “I didn’t kill it, by the way. I think it ate some of the rat poison. Rat poison is all over the cafeteria kitchen floor.”
“Another reason we all have such fond memories of eating our lunch in there,” Giles said. To Tara he asked, “Do you need any more weeds?”
“No, I think I have enough,” Tara said, as she dropped the rat atop a pile of freshly “harvested” green mass. Around the green mass she’d already shaped a conjure circle of crushed sea shells and rosemary.
Anya went to watch the door, while Giles and Willow watched curiously as Tara called up the elements, using words, but mostly her hands to shape her conjure.
In moments, the rat and the green mass shifted into a thick liquid that then partially solidified into something quivering and an almost electric green. The conjure dropped away and Tara stepped back.
“I muted the smell so that we can’t detect it, but any hell hound will be able to scent this from a mile or more away, or at least any hell hound from my old dimension.”
***
Usually they didn’t have enough time to be ready, Giles thought. The last time they’d been truly prepared for hell spawn rising had been graduation day.
***
Slayer senses came alive all at once, smell, taste, hearing, sight, and touch. Like her body had turned electric. She turned to Riley. “Incoming.”
***
“You hear that, all snap, crackle, pop,” Spike said. He dropped his cigarette to the floor, crushed the butt with his boot heel, and hoisted his battle axe to the ready.
Xander nodded and loaded a bolt into his cross-bow.
***
Anya watched the flaming ball of fire dance atop her hand.
Willow was balancing two, but her eyes were on Tara and Giles. Tara’s net formed first, a black pulsating connection of lines webbed together. It looked different under daylight, she thought as she remembered the first time she’d seen one, somehow more substantial, more deadly. Giles’ net formed, but his had sparks of red jumping off.
“Try to tame the air element,” Tara said.
And then Giles’ net looked as Tara’s.
“Good, now get ready to start spinning it.”
“Did you guys practice throwing them,” Anya said, “I don’t want one of those things tossed over me.”
“Out by the docks the other night,” Tara said. “Giles netted a Miquot and two vampires.” To Giles she said, “After you toss yours, t-take the time needed to conjure the next. I’ve got two more ready to go.”
Two more, thought Willow. She wondered silently how many more they’d need.
***
Buffy watched the air directly over the collapsed floor seemed to thin, then a rain of electrical sparks showering downward and the smell sulfur mixed with spent motor oil or burning plastic, an acrid smell of energy, not decay. Buffy noticed Riley, his cross-bow pointed, one bolt loaded, two others balanced between his fingers. She thought about asking him to show her his hold on the cross-bow, and then a sharp, almost deafening snap and a flooding of orange-red light and six, no seven hell hounds coming through the gap. Riley caught one, then a second with bolts to the mid-chest and Buffy, sword already raised high slicing through the air, one pass and two of the things decapitated, the other three running out the door. More came through just as quickly, now in alternating threes and floors. When Riley ran out of bolts, he pulled out his long blade, and he and Buffy became a symphony of destruction, thinning the herd.
***
The hell hounds ran pell-mell towards the lure, distracted stupid beasts, Spike and Xander neatly killing one after the next. They exchanged glances, Spike’s glorious, Xander’s worried.
***
Tara glanced at Giles, his fire net was at the ready and Anya, like Willow, was balancing three fire balls at once. From outside the building they could hear the screams of hell beasts slaughtered, but none came through the open doors. The skin along her back started to itch and ache.
“The Tsuris demons are breaching the dimension,” Tara said, loudly over the commotion of the fight, but also calmly.
Willow spared Tara a quick glance, and then she locked her eyes on the open doorway.
***
On the night of the Brocton massacre Buffy had seen Tsuris demons running on all fours. She knew from Tara they could move on two legs as well, but knowing wasn’t the same as having seen. And so she was startled as they started through the breach, always in packs of fives and always on their back legs, making them much harder to kill.
Unlike the hell hounds, they knew how to pivot and slink and avoid. They did not get caught up in the muck and offal and blood that now covered the library floor. And they came through at a much greater velocity, mostly shooting past Buffy and Riley, moving faster than Buffy thought possible, forcing the two of them ever closer to the library doors.
“Maybe we retreat to Spike and Xander,” Riley yelled over the howl of the dimensional riff. “They’re mostly getting past us.”
Buffy was already thinking the same thing, and then she heard it. A terrible scream. She shouted, “Xander,” at Riley and she then took off running.
***
The hell hound had already shot past them into the courtyard, but then something turned it back, tumbling twice over its own legs before heading back into the school. Spike was decapitating a Tsuris demon when he saw it heading towards him. Without thinking he booted it into the wall. Sending the beast into a roll that ended with its releasing its quills, a thousand sharp and jagged needles. A handful them burned into his upper chest and right arm and shoulder, as Spike heard Xander scream and saw him fall to the floor, clutching at his belly.
Another swing of his blade and Spike separated the hell hound into two, and then booting backwards, he kicked open the door behind him while grabbing hold of the collar of Xander’s jacket. He tossed Xander inside the room even as he continued swinging at the Tsuris demons, thinning the heard but knowing most were getting past him.
***
Giles heard them coming, their war cries sounding like water pounding over a rapids. From the corner of his eye he saw Tara spinning her fire net as Willow tossed fire ball after fire ball into the webbing. Tara released it as soon as the first of the Tsuris demons breached the courtyard, incinerating the lot of them.
Giles started spinning his net as well, gamely trying to catch each of the fire balls Anya was feeding him. Another squadron of Tsuris demons came through and he released the thing, capturing three of the five, and Willow hitting the other two, both square in the chest. And then the fight was on, Tara and he casting nets, capturing fire, a continuous killing of demon after demon. Sometimes coming in fives, most times in threes or fours, exhausting and dirty work. Until a sudden quiet, a final conflagration, and then shouts for help.
***
They took Xander to the hospital in Giles’ car, Giles driving, Buffy riding shotgun, Xander stretched across the rear seat and in Anya’s arms. Tara, Willow, and Riley stayed behind with Spike. There was too much daylight to take him elsewhere, so Tara cut out the hell hound quills one by one, fourteen in all, while Riley and Willow helped to hold him still. Then Willow and Tara headed for the hospital, and Riley took Buffy’s car to make a liquor and pig’s blood run. Riley left Spike sheltered in the cafeteria, and then he, too, headed for the hospital.
Last edited by Tecnopagan on Mon Apr 03, 2017 5:52 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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