Angel and Cordelia killed the second demon almost as Warren commanded the attack, then each got to work on another one.
Xander and Giles went to work double-teaming the nearest vampire, while Gunn attacked the pair of Burchells’ demons.
They all stood well out of the way of the Groosalugg, who was, clichéd as it sounds, a living representation of the poetry of violence. He beheaded one of the remaining vampires and kicked one of the demons in the same smooth motion.
The demons and vampires, despite being stupid, quickly realized who the two most dangerous combatants were; four went after the Groosalugg and another three came after Angel.
The Groosalugg grinned. Now this -- this was living! He swung his axe and caught the nearest demon in the chest, then jammed the handle into the vampire sneaking up behind him.
Angel threw one of the demons into a nearby ambulance and staked his vampiric opponent. He was ready to do anything it took to protect the people inside the hospital.
Burchells’ didn’t have any special abilities apart from an ability to run quickly, but that didn’t make them lightweights in a fight.
Gunn had just cracked the rebar over the skull of one of his opponents when he felt -- briefly -- a similar blow at the base of his.
Xander ducked a roundhouse punch from the vampire he and Giles were fighting, and was ready to stake it with the broken mop handle when he was tackled by a large yellow demon of some sort.
He beat on its head with the mop handle, but that only seemed to piss the creature off. It grabbed him by the neck and started squeezing.
Realizing he wouldn’t be able to breathe much longer, Xander took the handle and jammed the sharp end into the demon’s eye. The demon yowled and let him go for a second, long enough for Xander to begin to roll clear.
He felt a hand on his leg but, as he kicked behind him with his free leg, the hand grew limp. He rolled over and saw Cordy standing there, pulling her sword out of the demon’s throat. She reached down and yanked Xander to his feet.
“Told you I could use this thing,” she said.
Xander said, “I believed you the first time. But thanks.”
She grinned. “No problem, Zeppoboy.” Then she went over to fight one of the demons assaulting Angel.
The Groosalugg was fighting two vampires without his axe, with was buried in the skull of a dead demon; another demon was lying on the ground screaming. The warrior seemed to be having the time of his life.
Giles was wrestling with his vampire; Xander went over and staked it from behind with the mop handle. As the Watcher got to his feet, they stood and surveyed the battle.
They were now battling eight opponents, but were one down; noticing Gunn’s condition, Xander and Giles charged the Burchells’ standing over him. The demon seemed angry that Gunn had killed her mate.
This earned her no sympathy from the humans, of course, who immediately started pounding her as hard as they could.
Cordelia was wielding her sword well; she beheaded one of the two remaining vampires and moved over to look for a way to help Angel without taking the chance of stabbing him as well.
Anya had crept around the outskirts of the fight, looking for Warren. When she saw that the man named Gunn was injured, though, she went over, picked him up, and put him on the grass near the hospital entrance, away from the battle.
When she looked up for Warren again, he was gone. No; there he was entering the hospital.
She followed him.
X X X X X
Warren looked around at the fight. “No, no,” he said to himself. This was not going according to plan.
The demons were losing the battle. He didn’t know where the Conan wannabe with the axe that looked like it could cut battleships in two had come from, or the bald black guy, but they were turning the tide against his little army. The only thing keeping the mêlée going was that the bartender seemed to have stuck him with the stupidest demons and vampires on the planet. Smarter demons would have been running a long time ago.
Still, how the hell could he have known that damn vampire and the babe were on the side of the good guys? Whoever heard of a good vampire? Even Spike helped the good guys only because he was hot for the Slayer.
But Anya – oh, Anya he should have figured out. He’d known she was a vengeance demon again, and how she looked and acted, and how vengeance demons could teleport but not take anyone or anything with them but the clothes they were wearing; why hadn’t he put two and two together?
He couldn’t even use the gun – too much of a chance of hitting the demons, who were right now the only thing stopping him from getting killed.
And while the bald black guy was down for the count and Xander and that Giles character were having trouble together with one of the zebra demons, Conan and that turncoat vampire were another story entirely – and even the babe with the sword wasn’t half-bad. Under other circumstances, he would have been really turned on.
But these weren’t other circumstances. Warren called the robot over to him and they quickly changed clothes behind the hospital sign, out of view of the combatants. A paramedic wandering by the battle scene came over to see what was going on, but a quick wave of the gun sent him on his way.
Of course, the cops hadn’t shown up yet. This was Sunnydale.
Then he sent his robot duplicate into the building and told it to move around randomly – like it was sneaking around and trying not to be seen.
It went over and did as he’d commanded. As he’d suspected, Anya followed it inside the building. He considered moving in behind her and trying to shoot her, but he had no idea if bullets would kill a vengeance demon and no desire to find out the hard way that they didn’t.
Instead, Warren waited thirty seconds – the combat was still in full swing, although there were now more defenders than attackers – and he went inside himself. To his relief, Anya and his double were nowhere in sight, and the other fighters were still concentrating on the battle.
He went through the halls to the ER, then, when no one was looking, crept through the doors leading to the recovery area.
No one noticed. No one noticed anything in Sunnydale unless it was happening to them. Except for the damn Slayer and her friends.
Well, that ended now.
He saw the Slayer’s sister looking into a room. He crept up behind her and hit her in the head with the barrel of the gun. Warren had no particular gripe with her.
Sure enough, it was the Slayer’s room. Buffy Summers was lying there, unconscious, with tubes sticking out of both arms. He went over and leaned over the bed.
“Just you and me now, baby,” he said, cradling the pistol. “And there’s no one who can stop me now.”
A blast of wind hit him from behind and knocked him into the wall. He shook his head and looked up.
Tara said, “Wrong.”
Part 11
Once Anya had teleported back in, the people who were going out to fight had headed to the entrance to the ER within seconds.
Only Xander had stayed behind for a second. “If any of them get past us –“
“They won’t hurt Dawn. Or, or Buffy.”
Xander smiled. “This’ll all be over soon, Tara. Then you can stop being the strong one.” He’d hugged her and jogged off after everyone else.
,Just not yet.
I have to be able to cast spells if it means protecting Buffy and Dawn. Because if one of the vampires or demons gets in here --
I’m not a fighter. I know some spells that could be useful in a fight – I’ve used them a couple of times – but I’ve never been a warrior. Not like Buffy, or Xander, or –
Or even Willow. I remember she told me how, during the summer between their junior and senior years when Buffy left Sunnydale after – after something horrible happened, she never did tell me exactly what – how she and Xander and Oz and Giles tried to do what Buffy did – “with mixed results,” she’d said, laughing, after which Xander’d said, “Translation: We got our butts kicked more often than not. But every once in a while we were the ones who got to deliver the whuppin’.”
And Willow had fought them. Not with magic. Without any abilities at all, because she had to. It was one of the things I loved – and will always love -- about her.
I don’t know if I ever could have done that. If someone I loved was hurting, I’d do it in a second. But to go out and actively seek the confrontations?
That’s never been me.
Still isn’t. We didn’t look for this big battle with Warren and his ‘army’ of demonic idiots; they came to us.
I’ve never thought the proactive approach Buffy takes has been a bad idea; I’ve just said it’s not the way I personally work.
Maybe it’s time I changed my mind. If we’d done more to look for these people – or even if we’d tried to find Rack – maybe none of this would have happened. Warren would be in jail. Rack would be out of business or dead, and I can’t say I’d mourn his passing.
Maybe Willow would still be alive.
I know what the saying is. Wish in one hand and spit in the other and see which one fills up first. Unless you’ve got a vengeance demon around, and even then they’ll usually twist your wishes to make something go bad. I’m just glad Anya kind of still likes us, even after Xander left her at the altar.
Still, for the moment I have to stay here and wait for the battle to come to me. Because I’m the only protection Dawnie and Buffy have right now.
Goddess, give me peace and strength. Goddess, give me peace and strength . . .
Tara prayed for a while until she felt a kind of serenity overtake her. But this wasn’t the serenity she usually felt. This was peace combined with fury. Instinctively, she tried to fight the rage.
Goddess! What is it I’m feeling?
Righteous anger.
No! Magic born out of anger leads to evil!
Or does it? Maybe – maybe anger is a tool. Used badly, it could lead to Warren getting flayed alive. Or beaten to death by Angel. Or to have some horrible vengeance inflicted on him by Anya.
Or to going dark with rage and black magic.
Channeled correctly, though, maybe it can be a tool for justice.
Goddess, let me channel this correctly. Let me use my anger as a tool to do what is right – what is right for the world, not just what is right for me.
Let me be the mistress of my emotions, so that they will not master me.
Let me use my rage and grief.
Tara had done all of this with her eyes closed, leaning against the wall. When she opened her eyes again, she held out her left hand and said a few words of power.
A spark of witchfire appeared in her palm.
Despite everything, she smiled.
She was ready now.
And, she suddenly realized as she saw Warren going through the doors to the ER recovery area, that she’d better be.
She followed him through the doors as soon as she was certain no one was watching, saw him disappear around a corner –
And then saw Dawnie unconscious, sitting next to the doorway. She bent down and checked on her – Warren had clearly hit her over the head.
Thank goodness. Her breathing is strong.
Tara opened the door and saw Warren standing near Buffy, holding a pistol -- the same pistol that killed my Willow. He said, “Just you and me now, baby. And there’s no one who can stop me now.”
Goddess, Willow: Let me focus my energies . . .
Tara said, “Raffica!”
A windblast shot from her hands and slammed Warren into the wall, narrowly missing some of Buffy’s IV tubes.
Tara said, “Wrong,” as Warren looked up.
“You!” Warren said. “I should’ve wondered where you were when I didn’t see you outside.” He raised the gun. “Doesn’t matter. I can kill you and then her.”
“You’re in the middle of a hospital,” Tara said. “I, I think even the people of Sunnydale would get a little suspicious about gunfire.”
“Do you think I care about that any more, blondie? You and your little friends have already ruined my life and all my plans. All I care about now is getting my revenge.” He pointed the gun directly at her.
Focus the emotion. Focus the energy.
“Scald!” Tara said.
As Warren got ready to pull the trigger, the gun suddenly got so hot he couldn’t hold it any more. “Ouch!” he yelled, flinging it to the floor. “What did you do, you stupid bitch?”
I’m not going to take the bait. I’m not going to sink to his level.
“Freddo!” she said, picking down to pick up the now cooled gun.
She pointed it at him. “You were talking about revenge,” Tara said. “How it’s worth anything to you. How, how you obviously don’t care about what happens to you next. I wonder if, if you feel that way now.”
“You’re not going to shoot me,” he said confidently. “You don’t have it in you.”
“Really?” Tara asked. “You murdered the woman I love. While, while going for revenge, you shot her. Took the most amazing person who has ever existed away. And you tried to kill one of my best friends. Twice. So ask, ask yourself this, Warren. How sure are you that I’m not going to pull this trigger?” He said nothing. “Revenge. It’s a very powerful motivator. I’ve, I’ve had people all around me today who want nothing more than to have you be painfully dead. Who want to hurt you. To flay you alive. And, and these are people with the power to do it.” After a second. “I have the power to do it, Warren. I could pull this trigger. Or I could say any one of a hundred words of power. Some would kill you quickly. Others, others would eat you up from the inside. Slowly. Do you want that?” Again, no answer. “How sure are you?”
“You, you don’t want to do that,” he said. “It would mean you’re no better than me. I’m -- I’m a bad person. I see that now.”
No, you don’t see that, Warren. You are incapable of seeing that. I wonder. Were you born without a conscience or did you just lose it along the way?
It doesn’t matter, right now.
“You’re lucky. Because you’re right. You are a bad person. And I am better than you.”
“I knew you didn’t have it in you.”
“I have it in me,” Tara said. “What makes me better than you is the fact that I’m not doing it.”
“So what? You’re just going to hold me here until the police come?”
There was a commotion behind Tara in the hall. Tara took a step away from the door, never taking her eyes off of Warren.
Angel, Xander and Anya came in. “Tara --” Xander said.
“Don’t worry,” Tara said, handing Xander the pistol, which he quickly pocketed. Angel moved over to check on Buffy, who had remained unconscious throughout the whole thing. “I’m not going to kill him.” She looked at Warren. “And neither are any of you. Anya --”
“Yes?”
“I’m ready for my vengeance wish.”
Warren had some idea of what vengeance wishes entailed, because he fell to his knees, saying, “Oh God, please, no. Don’t, don’t let her do it . . .” Visions of having his toes burned off one by one are no doubt dancing through his head right now. Or being shot, repeatedly, until one of the bullets finally kills him. Or something like that.
But that’s too good for him.
“It’s, it’s a complicated one. Please wait until I’m done.” Anya nodded.
“I wish . . . I wish that Warren Mears had a conscience. I wish he actually understood how horrible everything he’s done has been. I wish he knew the pain I felt when I felt the woman I love die in my arms. I wish he knew your pain as well, knowing that Willow is dead -- and that Buffy could have died. And I wish that his life be a long one -- at least another seventy years, for which he will be conscious every single day -- and that he think about these things every one of those days as long as he lives.” Warren’s eyes grew wider as he heard all of this. “I want him to suffer the loss.”
Anya smiled grimly. “Done.”
X X X X X
The Sunnydale police, as always, showed up a day late and a dollar short; they took note of the “gang war” that had clearly taken place in front of the ER before they, along with a half dozen ER doctors and nurses, came barreling into Buffy’s room.
While Xander, Tara, Anya and Angel were quietly hustled out of there – and while both Dawnie and Gunn were being treated for blows to the back of the head – Warren was busy confessing all of his evil deeds to anyone and everyone in earshot: How he’d killed Willow, and tried to kill Buffy, twice. How he’d planned that museum heist back in October. How he’d killed his ex-girlfriend, Katrina Silber, by breaking a bottle over her skull when she was trying to leave him.
Thank all gods and goddesses everywhere they dragged him off before he started confessing to parking violations.
Everyone met once more in the ER waiting area – the Groosalugg and Cordelia had hidden their weapons somewhere, and somehow Xander and Mr. Giles had convinced the warrior to not tell valiant stories of their heroic struggle against the demon army – at least, not loudly enough so that the police could hear them.
Anya, however, couldn’t be stopped from telling everyone about the vengeance Tara had taken on Warren.
When she was done, everyone looked at Tara. It was Cordelia who spoke first. “Remind me,” she said, “Never to piss you off.”
“Consider yourself reminded,” Angel said. “You did to him what the gypsies did to me so long ago.”
That’s a good analogy, Angel.
“Yes,” Tara said. “I, I guess I did. Except there’s no escape clause for him. No easy way out back to what it was like when he didn’t have a conscience.”
“Even if there was that sort of escape clause,” Mr. Giles said. “From the way you phrased your wish I doubt he’d be able to take advantage of it.”
“Good,” Xander said firmly, which is a sentiment everyone else seemed to echo.
“So we need to figure out what to do next,” Angel said. “I mean, at some point we’re going to need to get back to Los Angeles.”
“Maybe the same way we came,” Cordelia said. “Anya?”
When she didn’t answer, everyone looked around. She was nowhere in sight.
X X X X X
The weather was typical for Arash’maharr: smoky, with a chance of more smoke.
“So, time for my annual performance review?” Anya said more cheerfully than she felt.
“Hardly,” D’Hoffryn rumbled. “You have been abusing your power of the wish recently.”
“Every single one of them was connected to a vengeance,” Anya said hotly.
“Tenuously, at best, except for the last one,” D’Hoffryn said. “You twisted and bent the meaning of the word vengeance to help these people.”
“Twisted and bent is not broken.”
D’Hoffryn harrumphed. “True. Still, you would not have done this for anyone else. Why, Anyanka?”
“Because . . . because I still care about them. Even that idiot who left me at the altar. It might be easier if I didn’t, but I do.” Then she added. “And I hated that Willow was dead and I couldn’t do anything about it.”
“Willow,” D’Hoffryn said. “Did I ever tell you I once offered her a position as a vengeance demon?”
Anya blinked. “No.”
“She turned me down. Pity; she would have made an excellent addition. And now she is dead.”
“And vengeance has been taken on her behalf.”
D’Hoffryn laughed. “Yes. That last wish. That was . . . an astonishing vengeance, Anyanka. One of the best, I believe, that you have ever done in your thousand years-plus as a vengeance demon. And that is why I am doing this.” He leaned forward and took her necklace off.
“I do one of my all-time greatest vengeances and you’re stripping me of my powers?”
“No. You did one of you greatest vengeances and for that reason I am letting you live.” He shook his head. “It was a mistake bringing you back into the fold, Anyanka. You have spent far too much time among humans to ever be a truly capable vengeance demon again.” He held up a hand to forestall her objections. “Yes, your vengeance on Mr. Mears was extraordinary. But you did not do it solely for the sake of a good vengeance – and Ms. MacLay was not a scorned woman. Do not deny this.”
Anya couldn’t.
“I will always have an affection for you, Anyanka. You have not failed; I failed you. If you wish to converse about old times, please do summon me.”
With a gesture, she was back in the ER waiting room.
“What happened?” everyone asked pretty much at once.
“Oh, I just got fired,” she said.
X X X X X
Then they all had to decide what to do next. Angel said he was going to stick around, at least until Buffy was better, so someone could keep an eye on Sunnydale for as long as it took Buffy to recover. Cordelia said she was staying with him.
Tara saw Cordelia and the Groosalugg having a quiet conversation not long after she made this announcement; once they were done, the Groosalugg said that he would be going back to Los Angeles “to protect it while its champion was busy elsewhere.”
I suspect the two of them just broke up. If so, it’s one of the more amiable breakups I’ve ever seen.
Dawn hadn’t even gotten a concussion, thank goodness; a small cut, but a couple of stitches took care of that. In the meantime, Buffy was moved to a regular hospital room.
The next day, Gunn – whose head wound had also been minor -- and the Groosalugg took a rental car -- which everyone chipped in and paid for – and headed back to Los Angeles. Everyone else was taking turns staying in the hospital, patrolling, and sleeping.
Sometime in the middle of the morning, Mr. Giles came up to Tara and said, gently, “How long has it been since you’ve slept?”
Tara checked her watch. “27 hours.”
“I’m taking you home,” he said. “Xander is here, Dawn is here, and everyone else has gotten some sleep in the interim.”
“I, I want to be here when –“
“You have gone above and beyond the call of duty, Tara,” Mr. Giles said. “You kept everyone together. You made certain Buffy was protected – and you caught Willow’s killer and punished him in a way that no court system will ever be able to match. Xander told me that you felt like you had to be the strong one during the crisis.” After a second. “The crisis is over.”
He’s right. I’ve been running on autopilot for the last twelve hours.
Tara let Giles take her back to 1630 Revello Drive. She went upstairs to change –
And was caught up by the site of the blood on the floor.
Willow’s blood.
My Willow. Whom I will never see again until I die.
I will be with you again someday. But right now – right now –
And finally, finally, Tara was able to let it all out. She fell to their bedroom floor and cried.
X X X X X
When she woke again, she was in her nightgown and it was the middle of the afternoon. Somehow she’d gotten herself dressed and fallen asleep – in Buffy’s bed, she noticed.
She had no memory of any of it.
Tara had dreamed, at one point, that she was making love to Willow. Waking up and remembering that it wasn’t true and would never be again --
Eventually, she cried herself out.
She called Giles at the hospital. Buffy still wasn’t awake, but her condition had been upgraded from critical to serious but stable. She would live.
Thank the goddess.
Then she went and did the one last thing she had to do.
Though it felt like a violation, looking through Willow’s personal phone book, she finally found the number she was looking for.
Hoping it was still accurate, she pressed the buttons on the phone.
“Hey,” came the voice at the other end.
“Is this Oz?”
“Yes. And you’re not Willow.”
“No. This is – this is Tara.”
“Her girlfriend,” Oz said.
“Yes.”
“What happened?” When Tara didn’t speak, he said. “Wouldn’t have called me if something hadn’t happened. What is it?”
“I’m sorry, Oz,” Tara said. “She was – she was killed yesterday.”
A long period of silence from the other end of the phone; then one word. “How?”
“She was shot. Someone was trying to kill Buffy and the shot went wild. She died in my arms.”
“I’m sorry,” Oz said, sounding like he meant it. “Tell me everything.”
Tara did, from when the Trio had decided to harass Buffy up until the moment Tara called down Anya’s vengeance wish.
“So he’s punished?”
“He’s punished.”
“Good.” After a second, “You could have called me in earlier.”
“My last experience with you and anger?” Tara said. “Not, not of the good.”
“You didn’t want my wolf to come out.” It wasn’t a question.
“No.”
Oz said, “You couldn’t have known. I’ve improved my control.”
“I’m sorry, then.”
“Like I said. You couldn’t have known. When’s the funeral?”
She hadn’t even thought about a funeral. “As soon as I can arrange it.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow. Can you wait?”
“I can. And I will.”
X X X X X
The funeral was held two days later. Oz had made it. Somehow, though no one remembered calling him, so did Riley Finn. Everyone was graveside except Angel. Willow’s parents had been a little miffed that their daughter hadn’t been buried in the traditional Jewish fashion, but their grief was genuine, despite their lack of real insight into who their daughter was.
As the Wiccan services ended, everyone started drifting away until only Tara and Xander stood there looking at the stone.
WILLOW ROSENBERG
1981-2002
HER LIFE WAS MAGICAL
|
|
|
|
Rave
Barbie Girl (Becca)
biscuit07
Filmtheory (Jim)
Malice (Jess)
MebbtheScribe (MichaelB)
Reset (Allie)
Shay (Marrisa)
somnambulist29 (Shea)
Stephanie Loss
Wendyness (Wendy)
Questions?Contact Us
|
|
All stories on this site have been archived with the authors' consent. Do not copy these stories for your own uses without the express consent of the author themselves. Buffy the Vampire Slayer TM and Angel TM are © UPN, WB, Fox and its related entities. All photos on the site are © UPN, Fox, Warner Bros, and/or their respective owners. No profits are being made by use of these images.
Powered with the assitance of eFiction.
|
|
|
