~ Part 4 ~
"The Great Spirit watched over the land as the Coyote snuck into the camps, stealing the young. It knew that the people had let their hearts grow small and weak. Darkness surrounded them, strangling out even the strength to stand when their children's screams echoed in the night," Joseph's faint voice filled the sweat lodge, painting a haunting picture. "Once the Coyote feared the people, he would wait many moons for a chance and then only go after the old and injured. Now, he boldly takes the most prized - our future."
Fathomless black eyes stared at me. Wrinkles wrote a map across his face, telling the story of his life. He watched me for long, seemingly endless minutes before he continued. "You have seen but one of his faces. He's a trickster, meant to fool us into turning away from the land. Beware that you don't fail to see the Great Spirit's hand when it touches you. I'm to help you on your journey. Come."
Driving down the back roads, I still felt Joseph's magic dancing across my skin. He put a medicine bag around my neck, and forced a promise from me not to open it. Indian ceremonies differed considerably from the few Wiccan rites that I had either participated in or performed. I'm not sure that words can do it justice.
He placed me at the water's edge where it gently lapped at my heels. He stood several feet away with his face turned up to the sun and his eyes closed as a low chant came from deep within his chest. It sounded like it came from his very soul. Each note resonated with a supplication, a prayer wrapped within his essence that he sent up into the air. His feet stayed firmly planted on the ground as his hands arched out toward me while shaking a medicine rattle. I watched as this beautiful old man spoke to the elements, asking them what I wasn't sure. He didn't say magical words, use strange potions, none that I saw anyway. No, what I witnessed was true magic. A man stood there, baring his soul to the elements, pouring that soul into what he asked, fueling his request as he poured it back at me. He explained afterward that he gave me great magic, his most powerful, protection from magic, no matter its intent. I'd learn how powerful in the days to come.
The next stop on my merry vengeance venture was the New York Region. It wasn't as easy to maneuver around in as Georgia. The further north I went, the tighter the security became. Was it because Northerners were suspicious, more security minded? No. It had to do with the Regent and the people working with her. That's right, her. What woman would Maggie and Old QT trust enough to put in such a powerful position? Why none other than Joyce Summers.
Do I hear gasps? Yes, that tidbit did come as a surprise for me as well. When I escaped and started my new life, I didn't bother looking up my mother. She was too far down on my list to bother with. If she hadn't come for me after five years in Hell, she wasn't my concern. Don't get me wrong; I planned to confront her, it just wasn't my first priority. During my rather long research session, I ran across the name J. Summers as the New York Regent. Her bio had talked about how her daughter's death launched her into politics. That seemed rather apropos, don't you think?
I holed up outside DC, knowing that I'd have to play this one carefully. The units that patrolled our nation's former capitol held to no discernible patterns, according to the Intel reports. The Watcher responsible for ensuring that the necessary controls and guidelines came into play, whether through might or magic as the Regent's right hand, had a brilliant mind for strategy. He used unorthodox means as he saw fit.
Once long ago, the Council would've considered his behavior rogue and dealt with him accordingly. Through some unknown event, these two immovable objects had come to an agreement, 'for the greater good,' of course. The Watcher rose through the ranks from a Slayer's teacher and guide to a high-ranking government official. He brought along a protégé, who they coveted for the magical potential in this person's body. Yes, Rupert Giles hadn't limited his betrayal only to me; he included Willow in his efforts as well; that was, if she wasn't such a willing victim, hungering for the power they had offered her. She wanted it more than she wanted anything else, including her friends and lover. But, I'm getting ahead of myself again.
Holding up high-powered binoculars, I sighted my target. The afternoon sun fell across the tree line, shadowing my hiding place. The people inside the former White House milled about, oblivious to the threat that lay at their doorstep. Booted feet walked on the lush lawn, mere inches from my face. Maggie's Super Soldiers with their heightened strength and senses couldn't out stalk a bigger, stronger predator, not the one who was 'their source', per say. I had learned that I felt like another SS to them. Maggie and the Council, with their power trips, never considered what to do if a SS went rogue. Their infrastructure deconstructed if one found a way around the chip, or no longer needed the meds to sustain their power.
The guard passed by and I pulled her down to join me. I had mere seconds to remove her and take her place. Her neck snapped like so much dry kindling. My fingers wrapped around her specially assigned weapon, even as I appeared from the shadows to resume 'my' post. The thick-soled combat boots gave me the extra height needed to pass for SS Sgt 1st Class Amanda Peterson. This next part had me stoked, I'd admit. It may seem petty, I don't care. I was about to introduce the power monger that played fast and loose with people's lives with a 'haunting' lesson. I couldn't keep the smile from creeping slowly over my face. I'm sure had anyone seen me, they wouldn't have felt an urge to return it, quite the opposite.
I knew everyone's schedules. This particular person spent their afternoons in the Library that faced the East Garden. I waited until I saw the familiar red hair before stepping from the shadows. She stood frozen, in perfect view, encased in glass. Her pale skin turned paler still as she stared at me. She lifted a frail hand up to lips as if to stifle a gasp or a scream. I was hoping for a scream, to tell the truth. I mean come on, I'm working my tail off here, and the least she could do was give me a blood curdler. Moving back into the shadows as quickly as I had appeared, I laughed as I watched Willow press her face to the glass, trying to see down into the garden.
Her head moved from side to side as she lifted up on her toes, searching everywhere for the ghosts of friends past. Poor little Willow. Did she see someone she thought was long gone? Let's see how she does up close and personal. I took off at fast jog, hurrying to get to the Library, before she left to continue her search or called for outside help. Picking this spot for its easy side access, I entered the Regent's Building, once again appearing like an SS on duty.
You're wondering what had Willow spooked. Me. That's a stupid answer, huh? Of course, I scared her, I scare everyone. What I meant was that I appeared as the Buffy that she knew; the one that she had helped to betray. As I said before, I don't do magic. I'm a kick ass, blow shit up, or just shoot you in the head type person at this point in my life. I'm a creature of circumstance. I've learned how to do personal glamours that can change the way that I look. The only problem with them was that you had to keep the image planted firmly in your mind. You had to be the person that you're projecting, not only outwardly, but in your head too.
Putting myself back into her, Buffy, wasn't where I wanted to go. She was dead. Her friends and family sent her to Hell and she never left. I survived. Me, V. I'm the one that walked away after five years of torture and degradation. Buffy Summers was dead, but for this, I had to resurrect her. It was a risk I was willing to take. If bringing her back brought me closer to my vengeance, then I'd dig her up and dance the cha cha with her. I admitted that this leg of the mission could turn into a cluster fuck if I let it. Buffy was soft and had allowed these people to manipulate her. She had put their feelings above her own, no matter the cost. Whatever their reasons, no matter what they heard, or believed, they had left us in Hell.
Walking up to the Library, I opened the door and quickly entered the vast, book-filled room. I needn't have hurried. Willow stood where I had last seen her, staring out the window, frozen in place. Her pale fingers traced patterns on the cool glass as she murmured to herself.
"Buffy, it can't be her. She's dead. She has to be dead."
I watched her shake her head so hard it was a wonder the thing didn't just pop right off. Wouldn't that be neat, save me the trouble, but it wouldn't be half as satisfying. I inched closer, determined to get my scream. My glamour was in full effect as I silently crept forward with my hand outstretched. I ghosted my fingers across her bare arm and waited. It didn't take long. She whirled around to find me standing behind her with a mega-watt Buffy smile on my youthful face. Her pale skin went a neat grey color. I had only seen that color on corpses; nice to know that I could get that reaction from the living, but I digress. Her pupils dilated as she sucked air into her lungs. She started to let out an unholy scream when I put my hand over her mouth.
"It's me, Willow," I said softly.
Her eyes remained wide, even as she tried to swallow the scream back down her throat. I took that time to notice the changes the years had made in my former best friend. She wore her dark red hair in a stylish shoulder length cut. It fit her pale oval face better than the straight length that she had kept as a teen. Her figure had filled out, giving her still slender figure womanly curves. I saw that she no longer bought her clothes at Sears, recognizing the Prada outfit from the latest runway collection. My, my little Willow was all grown up, coming out of her shell to play with the big kids. If this was another time and place, I might have found a spark of pride for her, but it wasn't. It was time to see how well she knew how to play the game.
"If I remove my hand, do you promise not to scream?"
She nodded her head, and I slowly lowered my hand. Her lips puckered up ready to blast me with a million questions, some things would never change. I put a finger up stopping her. She clamped her lips shut, waiting for me to speak. Wow, who trained her?
"I've missed you so much, Willow. It took me forever to get here. I went home, but no one was there and everyone that I asked looked at me like I was crazy. You don't think I'm crazy do you, Willow?"
I let my eyes go big as I stared up at her with every bit of Buffy's innocence, the innocence stripped away layer by layer in Maggie's Hell. She shook her head at me. That habit was getting annoying. If she didn't stop it soon, I might be tempted just to go straight to that popping thing I was wondering about earlier. I slipped into the pout that I had used on countless occasions to my benefit.
"Haven't you missed me?"
The lower lip quivered ever so effectively. I knew the exact moment that she allowed herself to buy into the fantasy that she wanted to believe. She simply took a step forward, putting a shaking hand out to touch me.
When she once again touched my flesh, she closed her eyes and a hysterical giggle escaped her lips, before she said, "You're real. Oh, Buffy, I knew that you couldn't be dead." She grabbed me, hugging me close as she cooed in my ear. "You're here. You're really here. Where've you been? Why didn't you come home? Dr. Walsh told us that you committed suicide. I don't understand."
Those words spilling from her mouth had me itching to strangle her where she stood. She acted as if she was still sixteen, rather than a powerful, twenty-five year old witch who was helping to rule a Region. Even at sixteen, Willow was mature for her age, maybe not socially, but certainly psychologically and ecologically. She knew what went bump in the night and if anyone could've found out what was going on at Maggie's Madhouse it was Willow. The question was, why didn't they even try. They knew that I wasn't crazy and that I wouldn't commit suicide; therefore, the bogus story should've raised red flags and sent the Scoobies charging to my rescue. Yet, no Scoobies, no rescue, just endless years of torture and me left to find my own way out of Hell.
I pushed the anger away, giving her a Buffy smile. "It doesn't matter, Willow. I'm here and we're back together. Where are Xander, Giles and my Mom? Are you and Oz still together? What about Xander and Cordelia?" I wrinkled my nose when I said the former Queen of Sunnydale's name, playing up to Willow's deep seated resentment of Cordelia. "I feel like Vanwrinkle, waking up after sleeping for a gabillion years?"
Giggling as I moved away from her clinging arms, I plopped onto a large table to swing my legs like the teenager I portrayed. I waited for her to fill me in on the long years that I had missed. She could give me the inside perspective that I wouldn't find, no matter how deeply I dug.
"Everything changed after you went away, Buffy."
Her voice faded off as she said my name. She turned to stare out the window, remembering. Let's see how much truth she's willing to share, or if there were any surprises in store for me. She took a deep breath, then let it out with a great heave of her shoulders.
"Kendra wasn't like you. She wouldn't let us patrol with her, kept repeating that the Slayer worked alone. She wouldn't even allow us to research, if you can believe that. We, Xander and I, felt pretty left out, especially since we were used to helping, being part of it all." Her face clouded over at the remembered insult. "The Council sent in their Special Forces to take out Angelus. Spike and Dru skipped town before they arrived. Giles went back to England since Kendra had her own Watcher. He came back for your funeral, and offered to take me back with him to learn magic, real magic." A happy smile brightened her face, while her voice lilted up at the end just saying the word. Man, she had it bad with the addiction. "Xander wasn't happy about that. He felt left out with everyone leaving. Cordelia left after graduation to try to become a movie star. She couldn't cut it, but it turned out that she had what it took for the news. She's the LA special news correspondent. They had a messy break up, and then with me leaving too, well he wasn't in a good place. We haven't talked in a while. He signed up for the service where he could use his soldier memories from that weird Halloween. Somehow he found a way to retrieve them." Her lips turned down for a moment before she continued. "He's worked his way up in the ranks to Second-in-Command to the Washington Regent's Special Forces."
She turned back to look at me. Her hands kept a steady movement, clasping, unclasping, wringing, then starting the cycle again. The nervous energy coming off her was enough to light up a city block. Here comes the juicy part.
"Your mom took it the hardest. She was a mess, Buffy. We didn't know about the drinking."
She gave me a hard look, which I responded to with a shrug. What could I say? It was what it was; my mom drank. She went through a rough divorce, her daughter turned into a semi-super hero and she had to move to a small town that sat on top of a Hellmouth. Hell, it was a wonder that was all she did. She had problems. Who didn't? Yes, she needed to stop and I had wanted, needed her to, but that was another story.
"When they told her that you committed suicide, Joyce, your mom, changed. She never drank again."
Great, all it took was me to kill myself for my mom to get sober. What a great treatment program; want to straighten up you life? Commit your child to a madwoman, let them torture her and tell you that she's dead, and you too will never drink again. Wow, have I ever gone to the morbid side of life. Told you this was a slippery slope.
"She started opening her eyes to what was going on in Sunnydale, too. Joyce blamed it on, well the vampires, for what happened to you. She decided to run for mayor, and unseated Mayor Wilkins in a surprising landslide vote. The Council supported her efforts and her political career took off from there. She was the driving force behind wiping out the vampires and demons across the world. Joyce pretty much became the poster child for slaying the bad guys."
Willow gave me a proud smile, her face aglow with admiration and love. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see bare emotions for my mother on my former best friend's face. It horrified and sickened me. I heard it in her voice as she talked about my mom, when she called her Joyce. A shudder raced down my spine. The rumors were true. Willow and my mother were lovers. It was simply something that I'd pull a Scarlett on, and think about it tomorrow, maybe not even then. Listening beyond the emotions in Willow's dissertation about my mother's accomplishments, I didn't hear anything about the harmless demons. A picture of my mother leading the MOO group as they attempted to burn me at the stake came to mind. Willow knew better than anyone that harmless demons existed. She had dated Oz throughout high school. He was a prime example that a simple accident shouldn't result in a person losing their life. Oz was a human being for all but three nights a month. On those nights, he locked himself up and had someone guard him to prevent him from harming anyone. Countless other demons simply wanted to co-exist with humans and had no means to defend themselves. Had my mother led the charge to systematically wipe them from the Earth? Was it another thoughtless act that I had to lay at the feet of my friends and family on my quest for vengeance?
Time to go for all the marbles. "What about Giles? Is he still in England?"
She gave me a huge smile, "Oh, no. He's the Watcher for this Region."
"Really!" I clapped my hands like a little girl on Christmas Day and jumped off the table. "Let's go see him right now." Grabbing her hand, I pulled her toward the large door, then out into the hall. "Where is he? I can't wait to see him."
I turned to her with an expectant look on my face, waiting for her to show me which way to go. She started off toward the vice presidential suites, with my hand clasped firmly in hers. Her brow furrowed as she tried to find words to tell me something that had her worried.
She finally found the courage and said, "Buffy, Giles has changed since you saw him last."
"What do you mean?" I laughed at her. She didn't hear the bitter undertones. "Giles is Giles. He'll never change."
She shook her head at me. I stopped walking, forcing her to do the same. Dropping our clasping hands, I turned to stare at her, presumably for an answer, in actuality so that I could clench my fists to keep from popping off that shaking head.
"He cut himself off from us after you went away. We all agreed that your going away was for the best," she looked away from me, then back, "then he acted like he didn't know us and refused to speak to us. Especially after the funeral, even though he offered to take me back with him. He barely talked to me on the plane ride. When we arrived in London, he practically ran off the plane. The three years that I was in London to study, I saw him on the few odd occasions. He's a lot more Ripper when he gets mad, and he gets mad a lot."
It was funny. I heard it in her voice, the fear. She was afraid of Giles. Here she was, a powerful witch, and he had her on the ropes. Wonder what my old Watcher's been dabbling in on the side? I'll just have to see how far he's willing to go. Can he kill me again? I'm about to find out.
"Don't be silly, Willow, Giles is an old fuddy duddy. Come on."
I grabbed her hand to continue our journey down the hall. She didn't even realize that I was taking her in the right direction. As we approached our destination, I slowed down and asked, "Where are we going?"
She took the lead again, pulling me further down the hall toward large double doors. Two SS stood guard, snapping to attention when they recognized Willow. She waved them away from the door and proceeded to knock.
"Enter," a familiar accented voice called out from the other side.
Opening the door slightly, she stuck her head inside and asked, "Giles, I brought you a surprise."
"Can't this wait? I'm rather busy. As you see, Joyce and I are in a meeting." He gestured to person occupying the leather chair directly across from him.
I squeezed her hand, rather hard. My bad. She got the message and quickly responded, "Joyce's here too, that's perfect."
She shoved open the door and pulled me into the room with her. Somewhere between her worried speech about Giles and our continued journey here, Willow had committed to this venture whole-heartedly. She practically skipped across the carpet with me in tow behind her. We stopped mere inches from a massive desk. The room's occupants had stood on our entrance. Too bad I didn't bring a camera. The expressions on Giles and my mother's faces were priceless. They had gone pale, eyes wide and their jaws loosened, though they didn't flop open. Damn it.
"Buffy," Giles stammered as he pulled off his glasses, starting the infernal rubbing of the tiny lenses.
A man in such a powerful position should work harder to break such an obvious tell. My mother smiled at me as she crossed the short distance between us and wrapped her arms about me. I allowed this intimacy, even managed not to flinch when she pressed a kiss to my cheek.
She whispered into my ear, "I know who you are."
"That makes two of us." I heard her heartbeat increase and saw her pupils dilate. She glanced at the door, then back at Willow and Giles. "Don't even try. Turn back around and play nice, Mother." Sarcasm dripped from my voice as I hugged her just a little tighter.
"Oomph, Buffy, still need to breathe," she gasped.
"Sorry, mommy, I'm just excited to see you after so long."
I clasped her hand, walking her back across the room to her chair. We looked the very picture of a mother and daughter reunion. Willow had moved to stand across from us, while Giles remained frozen in place, still staring at what he couldn't understand.
"Hi, Giles."
I smiled at him, working hard not to laugh. This had to work exactly for everything to fall into place. There was more at stake than just these minor pieces. A good chess player would tell you that you had to see the effect of each play beyond its immediate reaction and counter it, forcing your opponent to move in the direction that you desired. Let's see if I'm as good at this game as I think I am. Giles continued to stare at me. I knew that my glamour wouldn't fool him much longer. It wasn't meant to. One. Two. Three. Four. Here it came.
"Who are you and why are wearing a glamour?"
Ripper stared out at me through pale green eyes. Ooh, scary. Not. If he thought that was scary, wait till he got a load of this.
"You're good. My question is, if you could see through mine, then why couldn't you see through hers?"
I pointed at 'my mother' at the same time that I dropped my glamour. He didn't know where to look. His eyes went from my newly revealed face to 'Joyce Summers', before swinging back to me and not finding the unfamiliar face that he had expected, but a hauntingly familiar one. A face from the past that he had thought dead and buried painted with the colors of the infamous V.
"You, you're V." He sat down heavily in the chair. The poor lenses were sure to disintegrate with the way that he was rubbing them.
"What's the matter, Giles? Didn't expect me to survive?" I stepped closer to the desk, placed my hands down flat and leaned my painted face close to his. "Look closely, Watcher-mine, aren't you proud of what you helped create?"
He shook his head in denial. What was it with these people and rattling their brains around when they didn't like what they heard. "No, it was for the best. The Special Ops Team…" His voice faded off as he looked up at me.
I couldn't stop the harsh bark of laughter that escaped my lips. "Come off it, Giles. Did you really think that I'd pick Maggie's Hell over a clean death? Can you honestly say that you had no idea what she'd do to me? That if you'd given me the choice, you didn't know what I'd choose? Don't fool yourself, old man. Deep down you wanted revenge for Jenny."
"No!" He jumped up, slamming his hands on the desk.
"Then what was it? It sure as hell wasn't to save me. Don't even breathe that lie. Anyone that read my history, which you had, knew how terrified I was of hospitals. Hell, I almost killed myself to keep from going when I had that super flu. The only other explanation is that you bought into the Slayer Army spiel." I knew that I had struck pay dirt even as the words left my lips. His anger, guilt and ultimate self-imposed exile was there for anyone to see if they only had the key - me.
"You don't understand, Buffy," he said, trying to explain.
'No, you don't understand." I stepped back, letting him see that Buffy was gone and V was truly in the house.
"Buffy, it wasn't like that," Willow interrupted.
I turned on her with cold, dead eyes. "Where's Oz?" She stepped back as if I had physically slapped her, not yet, though the temptation was great. "It's nice to know that your betrayals aren't exclusive. I don't feel so alone. Do you know what Maggie and her goons did to Oz after they took him away?" There went that head again, shaking. It's a wonder her brain isn't scrambled. Maybe it was. It would explain so much. "Do you even care? Did you ever ask, or were you too busy packing for Merry Ole?"
"They said that they could cure him and that I couldn't see him until his treatment was complete."
"Oh, please. Tell me another one. Even you don't believe that; I can see it in your face. You knew what you were doing and didn't care. So what if meant Oz's life, as long as it you got your ticket on the Hogwarts Express, right Willow?" I grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at me, pitching my voice deadly and low. "They put him in a cage and shocked him, forcing the wolf to come out, then they tortured him to see how much pain he could take. He got pumped full of drugs to keep him in wolf form so the soldiers could use him for practice until it finally killed him. Aren't you proud of yourself, Willow? Sure wish you loved me like that; oh wait, you did."
I shoved her away from me. She landed on the floor in a heap of tangled limbs and racking sobs.
"That's enough, Buffy," Giles snapped at me.
"It's not nearly enough. Soon it will be though. Don't you want to know who's been playing Mommy Dearest? Come on out," I ordered, turning back toward the woman who had stood frozen in fear this entire time.
We turned to stare at my mother's body, watching it transform into a younger, more voluptuous figure. Standing there was a young woman that none of us had ever seen before. She had longish, dishwater blonde hair, a soft oval face, large blue eyes and a wide mouth that gave her a Madonna-like appearance. This poor young woman had stepped into my mother's shoes after the Council persuaded her that they'd keep her out of the camps. She got to remain free as long as she kept up their little charade.
I had learned through a long trail red tape, thanks to Emma's friends, that my mom died of a brain aneurysm in her second year as Regent. Her face as the Powers spoke person wasn't easily replaceable. The Council, read Quentin Travers here, decided in his infinite wisdom not to, replace her that is; well, not to the public eye. The Regency structuring was too new for them to 'elect' anyone to take Joyce's place, and they'd have to worry about power struggles and infrastructures. No, the neat easy way to go was to let everyone, including those closest to her, her Regency staff to believe that she was still alive. They pulled a fast one, using this poor young woman who was half-demon on her mother's side to do their dirty work. She was a puppet they used for public appearances, while leaving the larger decisions to Giles and her capable staff. I'm sure her handler was always nearby to ensure that she didn't wander from the script.
From the corner of my eye, I watched Willow. She had never liked it when things didn't go her way. I saw the anger start to build when I relayed her part in Oz's death. She wouldn't take kindly to being fooled by me or the woman she thought was Joyce Summers and her lover. It wouldn't matter that Council had given her little choice. Magic was involved. Willow prided herself on being the number one Wicca. That this impersonator had lived and slept beside her for the past few years was going to have repercussions.
I planned to use that fact in my favor. Taking two quick steps back over to the pseudo-Joyce, I placed myself in front of her and waited. It wouldn't even dawn on her that this was the woman that she had fallen in love with and not my mother. Even with everything, that I had seen and done that little tidbit was creepy. There were some nasty rumors floating about regarding Willow's magics. The more I dug, the nastier it got. Poor Willow. She always wanted to be the best, never realizing that she already was, the best Willow. That was all a person could strive for, and the stupid Council and Maggie Walshes of this world never understood that. People didn't need super powers to become the next rung on the economic ladder. It started inside, working its way outward, not the other way around. There weren't any short cuts. Willow used to know that. Studying hard gave her good grades and she never allowed anyone to cheat off her, but was always there to help when needed. Magic changed her perspective. She wanted, no needed, those same high marks, forgetting that the same hard work had to go into affect. She pitted herself against magic users that had studied their craft for years determined to best them. Yes, she had an innate talent; that didn't negate that she had to do the work. The Council did her no favors by taking her under their wing. They used her weakness against her, turning bad habits into addictions.
Yes, I was here for vengeance; I admit even a creature such as myself hardened, bitter thought to lose all hope for the human condition had met a few that had caused me to see that it wasn't lost. When seeking vengeance, it's a slippery slope, for you must stay forever in your past, the reason constant in you mind, its taste burning bitterly in your tongue. When faced with the object of your vengeance, other memories creep forward as you play judge, jury and executioner. Vengeance was a hard road. Once I had started down it, I found few exits, and those too late into the game, though I wouldn't have taken them, even as I write this, after everything I've said and done.
I mentally rubbed my hands together as I waited for her to make the first move, while not underestimating Ripper; wouldn't do to forget him. I had done that once before, and paid the price, a hefty price at that. Here it comes, she fisted her hands, gathering her magics as her pupils bled out, converting her eyes to fathomless holes. Willow's hair faded from its glorious red to black from root to tip. The dark magics that she had become addicted to had fused with her psyche, even showing through her pale skin as a spider web of black veins that shattered her beauty into a macabre puzzle. Sparks danced across her fingers as she turned those bottomless eyes toward her lover and me.
"You. You slept beside me for years, pretending to love me and all this time I didn't even know your name. How could you fool me?!"
Her voice shook the room as she forced her power out at us. I felt pseudo-Joyce shaking behind. She pulled more power about her, readying it to destroy the person that she had supposedly loved when the voice of reason interceded.
"Willow, that isn't important right now," Giles snapped at her.
I knew that I could rely on him to try and rein her in, at least a little. Her power fizzled out as she turned to him, obeying his command without question. Man talk about obedience training, I wondered if he could get her to bark and roll over too. This simple wouldn't do. I'd just have to stir the pot and see what popped up.
"Yeah, Willow, you might want to save your energy to get yourself and ole Ripper out of here."
One. Two. Three. They turned to me with questions in their eyes, shouting simultaneously, "What do you mean?...What?"
The words had barely left their lips when a series of explosions rocked the building. Everyone grabbed for something to keep from falling. I knew that it was time that my party was wrapped up here and needed to move on to the closing act. Let's see how they reacted under pressure. Could I push them in the direction that I wanted them to go?
"What have you done, you stupid girl? Do you realize the irreplaceable years of history you've destroyed in a petulant act from hurt feelings?"
"I believe it was Thomas Jefferson who said, 'Leave no authority existing not responsible to the people.' That's what I plan to do, follow in my forefathers' footsteps. This nation's forgotten what it stands for, just consider me a one woman militia."
The phone rang, like in some suspense thriller. Giles grabbed it, listening to the urgent message coming across loud and clear through the receiver. His face paled as he stared at me. I gave him a malicious smile that looked even more sinister on my painted face. The phone slipped from his fingers as Willow shook him, begging him to tell her what was happening. Yes, Ripper, calm your little puppy before she pees the floor. He took a deep breath, taking back control as he gave me an evil glare. Wrapping a protective arm around her, he calmed her before turning back to me.
"This isn't over. Times have changed and you must change with them. But, I see that you're incapable of grasping that concept. You want a war, fine! We'll give you one," he threatened.
Explosions punctuated his words, which I thought was great timing. I waited for either him or Willow to throw out a last minute salvo and was rather disappointed when he simply opened a portal and shoved them through it. What kind of response was that? Threaten and leave. Not even a little energy blast, or throwing a sharp instrument. My former friends had gone soft.
I'd have time to ponder over how unsatisfying this visit had gone later. Explosions went off like firecrackers on the 4th of July. We moved away from the windows towards a wall of filled with bookcases. Pushing against specific panels, a bookcase swung open to reveal a hidden enclosure with a metal door in the floor.. It was big enough for about three people to fit comfortably. I closed the bookcase behind us as another blast sent the ceiling crashing to the ground where we had stood moments before. Pushing her against the far wall, I heaved open the door and motioned for her to go through. She eyed me warily, but did as I asked. I followed her, closing the door leaving us encompassed in pitch black. My eyes adjusted quickly while I waited for her to climb down the ladder that led to a warren of tunnels below the building. Placing my hand and feet on the outermost edge, I slid down the ladder to land on the ground beside her. A soft gasp told me that I had spooked her. I ignored her obvious unease while I searched the wall behind the ladder for a switch that would turn on lights attached to a backup generator. Flipping the switch, dull yellow lights lit up the cement walls.
We had several miles to cover and needed to hurry. Regardless of what Giles had said, I placed the bombs at strategic places. They took out specific areas of the White House, while leaving others untouched. The Oval Office wasn't on my list. It represented the things that had festered for too long. I didn't destroy the historical repositories throughout DC. We learn from our history. My destroying that history wouldn't help once my vengeance was complete. Besides, Emma would roll over in her grave if I had. I grabbed pseudo-Joyce's wrist and pulled her down the tunnel that emptied out into a side street on the outskirts of town. She hurried along beside me, trying to keep up with the pace that I had set. She was breathing heavy by the time we hit the first mile marker. Moving onto the second, I was practically dragging her along beside me, slipping an arm around her waist. She kept glancing over at me, then away life she was afraid I'd catch her staring. Her lips stretched out in a concerned frown as she worked up the courage say something.
"A-are you going to kill m-me?" she asked, looking at me with those large blue eyes.
"Do you deserve to die?" I asked, staring into a face that still held an air of innocence.
"You got a name? I can't really call you, Joyce, can I?"
"T-Tara, Tara M-McClay. I'm s-sorry about your m-mom. My m-mother's d-dead t-too."
I gave her a sidewise look, seeing the sincerity written on her face. Where had the Council gotten this babe in the woods? How had she survived the dangerous game she had played these last few years? I looked her over closely as I searched for a demon essence, and found none. Why would she believe that she was part demon? And, why hadn't anyone felt her magics? Tara McClay was a puzzle. I loved puzzle and wondered what answers I'd find once I knew her story.
"Thanks. We weren't close, as you probably already know. It's a long story, which we don't have time for at the moment. I don't suppose you can do more than the obvious glamours?"
She gave me a beautiful smile that lit up the tunnel. I slowed our hasty exit to a stop. She slipped out of my embrace to face me, and intertwine her fingers with mine. Closing her eyes in concentration, she murmured a few words, which caused a slight pulling sensation in the pit of my stomach. A pale glow surrounded us just before we disappeared and then reappeared in forest outside Virginia.
"I knew you were more than just a pretty face." She blushed prettily at the compliment. "If I thought of a place, could you do that again?"
She answered with another smile as she wrapped her arms around my waist. Her soft body felt nice next to mine. She smelled of fresh apples and cinnamon while her magic held the faint scent of honeysuckle. It was a strange combination that somehow fit her perfectly.
"K-keep the p-picture clearly in your mind, or there's no telling where we'll end up."
"Believe me, I've got this place firmly in my mind. When we get there, don't worry about what you see okay? Once I get what I need, you're free to go."
Her magic wrapped around us as we faded from sight. Bombs exploded throughout DC, bringing the New York Regency to a stand still. They annihilated the movers and shakers that helped to perpetuate the Powers growing influence in this part of the country. The Super Soldiers were laid to rest, no longer using their superior strength against the people they were supposed to protect. The ones that survived would follow after their leaders in a cat and mouse game where I had no intentions of being the mouse.
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