The Noose
It’s always the same.
Like a chorus, my victims call out to me. Every last one—all except one—someone I love. Their faces are twisted with anguish, darkened by rage or, worst of all, dull and thick with disappointment.
Heavy, hanging suspended on the edge of sleep, I linger here. There’s ritual in this place, conjured by memory and shame. Traveling from one to the next, I remember who I am and what I do.
You can’t hide from yourself. You can sorta cope, sometimes, maybe…but you can’t hide.
Not really.
Eventually, it catches up…and you feel whatever you feel. Lucky me, I’m a master of guilt.
The last face I see is Kennedy’s. Unlike the others, she looks so peaceful.
But that’s only because she’s dead.
The look improved with time. Well, time and a little magick.
Yup, everything’s better with magick. A flick of the wrist, a few well chosen words, and presto…everyone hates me.
How could I joke about that?
I always tell that wrong.
Wrong is right.
My head throbs. Whatever they did to me, I think the lab rats they tried it out on croaked. I scrunch my eyes.
Rats.
And one of them’s speaking. Talking rats, it’s like being plopped in the middle of the worst Disney film ever. Something about ropes and dopes…
Whatever.
Understanding isn’t necessary. All I really need to know is that I’m screwed.
Smugness gives way to an overwhelming sense of disgust. Cutting through the haze, Amy’s voice rings in my mind. ‘I can’t believe I used to look—no, not look up to—I used to envy this bitch. She’s so pitiful.’
I groan.
I knew I should’ve stayed in bed today.
Under the bed.
I crack my eyes. The overhead light’s so bright. It only lasts about a tenth of a second before they reflexively close. I see spots for my trouble. Figures.
My body feels distant, heavy and really numb. It’s like she sedated me.
But I don’t think that’s it. I feel really weak. Hopelessly weak. There’s something else.
And there’s someone else. Wrath radiates from the corner of the room. The someone else is keeping their distance. I’d really like to pin down who it is.
Patience, all good things in time…
It’s just…getting the why might be easier if I did. Like it matters. It’s not like people who are miffed at me are in short supply.
A tiny prickle shows me the truth as she considers, ‘I can’t believe he’s making me wait. This had better be worth it.’
A slayer?
Well, that really narrows it down. It could be any of them. It’s not like I made their lives all cotton candy and carnival rides.
Uh…
Unless you count the ick-factor of sugary, greasy foods and spinny, Tilt-a-Whirl… Oh! Or that barrel thing! Wow! That thing’s quadruple, quintessential badness. All the vertigo a body never needs mixed with enough centrifugal force for some serious all-around grossness. Anyway, then just maybe…
Stiffening, she shifts anxiously. ‘I’m waiting. That bitch is in the same room and I’m just standing here.’
I should open my eyes.
I really don’t wanna.
Between the drama and the five star accommodations, I can pretty much figure it out. The cold and hard against my back tells me I’m on a metal table, like in a laboratory. The heat from the light just adds to that image. It’s not exactly candlelight and roses. There’s this warm tingle around my wrists and ankles, probably magickal restraints. Leechy magickal restraints, considering the woozy.
I’m gonna take a stab and say they don’t wanna tickle me.
And odds are, whatever they plan to do, I probably deserve it.
‘I should be putting my fist through her face.’
Uh…maybe not.
‘I wonder how much force it’d take.’
I wonder if you’ve ever considered anger management classes. I’m sorta seeing a serious need.
‘It’d increase exponentially based on the area impacted.’
Grrr! I’m awake.
‘It’ll take more than one punch.’
I really should open my eyes.
Hostile and fuming, ‘I’ll break my hand…’ she moves toward me ‘…but it’ll be worth it.’
Time’s up.
Her thoughts resonate like a scream in my mind. ‘I’m sick of her playing dead. Between being and playing, I’m gonna have to come down firmly in favor of being. It’s the better choice.’
She makes me cringe.
Her hand cracks across my cheek. My head snaps sideways. The side of my face stings like it’s on fire.
It beats the alternative.
My eyes pop open. I turn my head to look.
All I see is shadow. She cranes over me, blocking the light.
Amy’s giggling fades, giving way to a warning. “We need her alive.” The seething from my new friend spawns a predictable amendment. “For now.”
Oh, please…
Someone cue the dramatic score, all boring and weighty with wanna-be foreboding.
I’m over it.
I should be terrified, but like Buffy, I’ve seen too much of this garbage to really care.
I suppress a sigh and shut my eyes. The backlight’s annoying. It’s like some silly interrogation scene from a pulp detective story. If they really want to scare me, they’re gonna have to try harder.
Clattering above my head draws my attention.
‘I could always flay the bitch—like that’s even remotely original.’
When it comes into view, my interest fixes on the scalpel. It’s not a hard choice, what with the mention of flaying. My face appears to be the target.
Flaying and faces…
’Kay, so…I really didn’t mean it. You can go back to the same sorta trying anytime now. I swear I’ll be fine. If it’d make you happy, I’ll even play scared. It’ll be fun.
I watch as the scalpel nears my eye while Amy yammers in the background, “We stick to the plan, babe. First we beat her. Then we use her. Once she’s humiliated, you can kill her. I get the beef—trust me I do—but you need to be patient. We’ve got way more to gain from patience.”
The slayer growls, “Plans are good…” twiddling the instrument between her fingers “…but they have this nasty habit of going sideways around Rosenberg. It’s like she and her wacky little gang of super pals are charmed. I gotta say, the direct approach holds a lot more appeal.”
Yeah…umm, how ’bout no?
Is no a valid answer?
It’s not till Amy takes a step forward that I get how large this woman is. At least a good six inches taller, she towers over the witch. Well, that’ll make her easy to spot in a crowd. I just wish I could see her face, but…
She’s a seriously homicidal redhead. History lessons aside, I’ve got nothing.
After stating firmly, “We stick to the plan,” Amy tries to rub the other woman’s back to calm her. It just makes her madder. Her thoughts are consumed by—well, it’s a jumbley mess of dead Willow scenarios in there.
Tentatively, I focus, leeching a little power. As it trickles away, the blade closes in, hovering over my eye. The slayer fidgets with the scalpel, rolling the handle between her fingers while she tells me what I already know. “All of your power’s siphoned into those bonds. The stronger you get…” With a humorless chuckle, she grumbles menacingly, “Try it. Go dark. I really wish you would.” Reaching around the slayer, Amy takes her hand. I blink. The blade almost nicks my eye, but she pulls it away.
Something tells me this isn’t gonna end well. It might actually be time for me to get scared, or at least a little worried.
As the slayer turns to face Amy, I get my first real look. She’s pretty. They all are. I wonder where, in the mix of attributes that makes a good slayer, pretty came in. It’s there though, nearly a universal truth of the line. Her eyes are cold, steely gray and…they’re weird, sorta empty. Something’s missing, a glint, some spark of life. Her dull eyes speak to something I should’ve felt before.
Amy carefully disarms the slayer, dropping the scalpel back onto the tray.
I watch the exchange between them, gentle touches and significant looks. There’s a vibe to the whole thing that leaves me totally baffled.
Sorta like a chocolate bunny, this slayer’s hollow. She’s missing the gooey filling the rest of us have. The closest thing I can figure is vamp, but she lacks the heebie jeebies that mark a vamp.
Well, maybe not lacks, but it’s different.
Definitely wig-some…there’s genuine warmth between them. If Amy being gay isn’t enough of a stumper, affection from the soulless is. But it’s there. Can’t really question it.
Sensitivity training’s seriously on the to-do list. Big shocker, that’s not a requisite for chasing Amy.
‘This is nice—cozy even—but enough screwing around,’ the slayer reflects before she turns to me and snarls, “What about you, Rosenberg? Are you bored now?”
Actually, yeah…I suppose popcorn and movies are out of the question?
‘Such a heartwarming epitaph.’
Huh?
Oh, no way!
She’s not…
‘I need to put this thing in her and get the hell out before I kill the stupid cunt.’
Uh…
She looms over me for a sec, then it’s back to torturing Willow. Avoiding the eyes might be nice, but no, they’re the target.
What’d she mean, this thing? This is seriously sounding worse all the time.
‘Accidents happen all the time.’
And worse…
The clampy thing to hold my right eye open just sucks. It pinches as she messes with it.
‘I’m feeling pretty clumsy.’
I used to know what they’re called, an ocular speculum or something.
‘I wonder if our boss would lose it if I accidentally lobotomized the bitch?’
Umm…
A worried Amy leans in to watch. ‘I should keep an eye on this. We need the princess in one piece if our plan’s gonna work.’ She moves around the table to assist with whatever nightmare they have in mind.
The concern’s seriously touching.
And, predictably, back to the pointy objects.
So, what do we have so far? Well, what’s there doesn’t—
It all goes away with the pain. I scream as the scalpel cuts into the corner of my eye. Thoughts, all stormy and jumbled, rush through my head, both hers and mine. Stronger than the others, one harsh reflection breaks through. ‘We’re gonna take this real slow.’
The heel of her hand rests against my cheekbone. Its two things a hand shouldn’t be, moist and chilly.
Why I notice is anyone’s guess.
There’s a knock and a reluctant Amy disappears.
As the door swings shut, a loud cracking sound resonates through the lab.
The next person to disappear is me.
I do, but I don’t.
I don’t get it.
It makes no sense.
I’m here, but not. At least not in the conventional sense…
Why does this always happen to me?
Poof, I end up somewhere weird. Or poof, I’m here, but not really. If I wasn’t so damned grateful to have that thing out of my eye, I might just be a little put out.
Crackling bolts of electricity arc from the table to a big, creepy metal box. It feels icky and wrong, like Amy’s techno-magick just kinda puked all over the room. Instinctively, I recoil.
The flavor of the moment is swarm of me. Like a bunch of bees, but different, less effectual, more ethereal. I swirl around the table, tumbling to the floor.
It feels weird is like the understatement of the century.
Oh, I remember this.
Well, the lady—and boy, do I use that term loosely—asked me to go dark.
Oops!
I guess she got her wish. Let’s hear it for the power of suggestion.
She lays unconscious on the floor. I float around her like a cloud, hoping to get a better look.
Look is such a relative term.
She’s gone, or almost gone. Umm…almost dead.
It makes me remember Ken. If I don’t help her, she’ll really die.
Good thought, but when Amy bursts through the door with half the military on her tail, I skedaddle, sucking up under the lower shelf of the table. As hiding places go, it’s not the most original, but—improvising here—it’s the best I’ve got on short notice.
I’m seriously lit, almost vibrating. As I consciously siphon off the charge into the buzzy, metal table, the mantra automatically begins to drown out the noise.
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
She gets one look at the slayer and screams, “That fucking bitch!” Then she goes ballistic searching for me and ranting both inside and outside. Curses and guttural threats repeat along with my cutesy little nursery rhythm. It’s hard not to listen, almost surreal.
Focusing, I push her aside. If I pay attention to her tirade, I may miss something important.
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
I really hate people.
With any luck, I’ll be able to stay sane and cloak myself in the lightshow without getting zapped. If she finds me, I’ll scram. Until then, I need to hang out. Between Buffy and her amorous little nap, zombies invading the castle and other assorted badness, I’m beginning to think something’s up. It’d be nice to know what it is for once.
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
And my first clue was? Other subtle hints…
Vasuki has subtle down to an art form, a highly cryptic, utterly perplexing, art form. The memo I got said, go see your friends. The rest was way too vague to be sensey.
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
The more sensey it gets, the more I want to bail. I hear Tahiti’s nice this time of year.
No Tahiti for me. No, away I went to find Buffy puddling toward total meltdown. Ignoring that was challenging in new and un-fun ways. But it’s not like she didn’t give me lots of practice.
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
I’m just not sure what to do about that besides what I did. Making her think is about my only weapon. Otherwise…
And now, here I am being one with the furniture after psycho slayer tries to stab my eye out.
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
I should’ve known better.
I don’t need anyone harping at me about the big picture. The picture, big or small, I get it. The Mona Lisa sized image that is Buffy Summers. In the grand scheme, she looks small—sort of insignificant—but she isn’t. And she has a better smile.
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
Thing is—what they don’t get—if Buffy doesn’t want help, there’s nothing I can do. She gives stubborn people something to aspire to, a new pinnacle of excellence and perfection.
They don’t even want to hear that part.
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
All I get is, go fix it.
If I make it out of here in one piece, fixing that…it’s gonna be fun. It’s a totally double-edged sword. I miss her so much, but when I’m around her, all I want to do is leave. Leaving really isn’t an option now. I wish it was, but she needs…
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
Amy’s calm enough now to almost fake rational.
One of the soldiers demands, “I thought you said that the witch would be contained. What happened?” Judging from tone of voice and age, it’s a pretty safe bet that he’s the leader.
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
Amy replies, “Well, I thought she would be.” Her voice is thick with stress. It takes a few moments, but she folds. His mood tells me there’s a glare involved, ’cause she really didn’t answer the question. “It looks to me like she used Riah to overload the system. A power spike would give her a little bit of time. Not much.”
Riah? I try to giggle. Thankfully, I’m a little too insubstantial for that. The Hebrew word for bitter. Fitting.
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
A flurry of activity accompanies the leader’s growl. “Little or not, it was obviously enough. I want this mess cleaned up…” he motions to indicate Riah “…and the witch located pronto.” As two of his men move in to deal with the mess, he continues, “You led me to believe this would be easy. Should I start doubting your word, Amy?”
Sounding way more confident, she responds, “No.” A nervous tick seriously gives her away. She clears her throat and continues with the same false confidence. “Look, she’s here. I just have to find her.”
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
She starts to pace, anxiously probing for me as she remarks, “It’s just really hard to judge with her. Besides, I don’t get why you’re so upset. Keep your eyes on the prize, General. There’s no way Buffy won’t come for her.”
The leader commands, “Seal off the area,” sounding grumpy and mean. I think it’s a natural state for him. He seems pretty comfy with it.
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
This is the oldest game in the book, using me to get at Buffy. It’s predictable and lame. I need to bail. It’s a gamble, but I’ll give them five more minutes. I really want to know what’s up.
Yeah…I’m not a total masochist.
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
The majority of the men exit the room. It’s a major good. Crowded doesn’t even begin…
As the noise dies down to a dull roar, my interest sets on Riah. The medics poke at her. It’s frustrating. They’re clueless.
I wonder who she really is. The arrows all point to something I can’t make myself believe. It’s just too weird, even for me. I don’t want to believe it.
Whoever she is they seriously need to help her, or she’s gonna be no one.
But if I’m right, she already is.
Stop wigging over me and do your job, Amy. I know you get it. You weren’t a total loser. Every once in a while, you actually showed a glimmer of common sense.
I’m not sure who’s worse, the soulless slayer with the weird crushy attachment, or the soulful witch who’s so obsessed with hurting me that she’s willing to let her lover die.
It’s a sad, sad image.
While she’s screwing around looking for me, the military gorillas wheel her honey out on a gurney.
It’s probably foolish, but I hope she lives.
My attention shifts back to more pressing matters when Amy makes a lap around the table. I don’t need to hear, ‘I don’t get it. She’s right here,’ to know that she senses me.
And right on cue, the knuckle-draggers move in behind her, turning the room into a disaster.
What is it with fighty people and the throwing things?
I’m not cleaning this one up.
No way, no how.
I move with the flipping furniture and tumbling medical equipment, clinging to the shadows.
Eventually, I follow the chaos into a dark, quiet corner without getting squished or crispified.
As I come to rest against the floor, I hear the word, ‘gotcha.’ She casts a spell. All it takes is a little shift to my left, an energy ball flies toward me, hitting wide, utterly missing its mark and scorching the wall. Junk goes flying everywhere. It’s kinda funny in a pitiful sort of way.
You made a better rat. Rats aren’t big with betrayal. Despite the bad rap. They kinda lack the skills, not to mention the stature for any real treachery. Cage-sized is pretty limiting.
That does it. I’m so putting her back. I could use a new—well, an old—new pet.
‘This’d be loads less frustrating without all the jarheads in the way.’ The thought quickly gives way to comment. “General, if you don’t mind, this’d be easier without the help.” ‘Hitting one of them wouldn’t end well.’
“Very well, but I expect her located and quarantined within the hour,” the General snaps.
The clicking of booted feet sound around the room, followed closely by the best click of all, the click of a latch against a striker plate when the door shuts. It’s a beautiful click. All the chatter and ickiness leaves with that one click.
Ah…It’s just us girls.
And boy, do we have some catching up to do.
I’m thinking it’s a Cheese-Its and Stewart Little kinda night.
With them gone, Amy just opens up. “What’s the matter? Is the big bad witch frightened?” she snarls under her breath. Radiant balls of energy fly every which way. They crash and bounce, making more of a mess. It’s kinda nifty and funny.
Something tells me she’s pissed.
‘Where is she?’
I don’t bother waiting for her to hit herself. It’s bound to happen, but the clock’s ticking.
Hiding in the rubble, I skirt the edge of the room.
‘There!’ A crackly ball of ouchy badness flies my way. A near miss, a little singe and more broken glass…
Try again.
And she does. Hide and seek can be fun, but…
Playing Tinkerbell from Hell, I streak around the room. Flashes and crashes follow me. I think she’s firming up.
‘Stupid bitch!’
Maybe not.
She’s been asking for this all night.
Swirling through the debris like a swarm of locusts, I launch at her ankles.
She conjures as fast as she can, sending a flurry of glowing projectiles my way.
As I am, it’s like hitting a fly with a baseball. Possible, but mostly…well, the room’s a goner. We’re to the cloud of dust, crushed furniture and broken walls phase of the deconstruction.
I twist and whirl, maneuvering myself past the assault. A few minor jolts later, I strafe around her once, feet to head, and materialize behind her. Grabbing her shoulder, I give her a spin as I take all the power I need.
Her knees buckle. She’s clueless and trying to catch up.
I’m not really a violent person. I like to leave the fisticuffs to those more qualified, but she’s on my last nerve. When she turns into me, I just deck her. The punch is…it’s lots more violent than I planned. It connects under her chin. She lifts off her feet and goes crashing into the zappy metal box. As I shake my throbbing hand, sparks fly.
That hurt!
I don’t get how Buffy does it.
The words aren’t strictly necessary, but for her benefit, I whisper the spell. “Goddess Hecate, work thy will. Before thee let the unclean thing crawl.”
Her empty clothes float to the floor. It takes a sec but, one of her boots rocks back and forth. I smile when my pet emerges from it. I missed Amy the Rat.
I walk over and scoop her up, giving her a gentle stroke between the ears with my index finger as I look around. We still need to get out of here. With her like this, it’s gonna be a whole lot more complicated.
First things first, I need a bag. I pick my way around the rubble and open one of the lockers near the door. In the second locker, I come across a basic field medic kit. The contents hit the floor before I place Amy inside and sling the stylish military issue olive drab bag over my shoulder. It’ll work.
The room’s such a wreck it’s hard to tell what was where. I spend a few moments trying to find the tray of medical instruments Riah used on me. They planned to put something inside me. I’d like to know what.
Reaching out to detect anything magickal is pretty much pointless, what with that huge, leaky battery in the room. It kinda feels like the Wiccan version of Chernobyl in here. How Amy managed to detect me at all—well, it just further proves that she has help. Like I need more proof.
My eye just sucks! I wipe the lower lid and—no surprise—pull back a bloody finger. It’s all twitchy and weird. It focuses fine, but movement’s a problem.
It’s annoying.
I use the surplus of magickal potential to my advantage. I’m gonna need all the help I can get. Absently, I build my defenses and jumpstart the healing process while I dig, turning the upside-down, upside-down. Finally, I locate the tray. There’s a few things near it, but nothing worth noticing.
It has to be in this room. Thing is, I’m not even sure what I’m looking for. I just hope I’ll know it when I see it.
There’s actually a list of hopes.
I hope Buffy doesn’t come after me before I finish up. I really need to get going!
I hope whatever I find isn’t dangerous—I mean immediately dangerous. I totally get that this isn’t cute, snuggly stuff. Nothing else here is, so…it’s gonna be something bad. If it doesn’t try to bite me or penetra…
Uh, yeah…
I cringe.
Between Buffy and Cordelia, I think we’ve all seen enough tentacle rape scenarios for one lifetime. Moving on.
I hope I can get us out of this Initiative-inspired Hell without…
Something catches my eye, I quirk an eyebrow and stare.
I hope I can figure out what the heck this silly thing is.
It’s a rock. This really doesn’t seem like the sort of place you’d find a spherical piece of moss agate. Military bases just aren’t that big with the tourist trade.
I locate a box of latex gloves, put one on, pick the little rock up and turn the glove inside out around it. The rock does nothing. It feels like nothing. But I follow my hunch and just run with it, tying the glove closed.
This has to be it. It’s just way too out of place. I drop the rock into one of the outside pockets of the bag.
I’m as ready as I get. After another quick look around, I crack the door and peek out. There’s no one in the hallway, or no one I can see. The magickal fallout in the room’s really messing with me. I still can’t feel anything. For someone who avoids people because she feels everything, it’s really bizarre, like walking around with blinders on.
Creepy-crawly skin and all, I step out the door. Tiptoeing’s sorta pointless. With any luck, once I clear the interference, I’ll be able to feel them.
But truthfully, if it never came back, if I were just blind again, I really wouldn’t mind.
It’s a total trade off. I have insight most people would kill to have…until they had it. Naturally, I use it to my advantage. Considering the price I pay…
I can’t feel bad about it.
There’s always a price.
When I reach the end of the hall, it’s back—my price. There are five soldiers around the corner a little way down the intersecting hallway.
Aw…isn’t that sweet? One of them misses his wife. She’s pregnant and he’s out of leave time.
Pouting, I conjure one doozy of a concussion bolt. Their ears should still be ringing next week.
Maybe they’ll let his wife visit while he recovers.
I toy with the ball of blue light in my palm. Once I toss this, every alarm in this place is gonna go off. It should crack the foundation.
Commitment.
This makes me really jittery. There’s nothing I can do. I’d rather face a legion of demons than one human with a gun. I can actually fight the first thing.
Okay, well…I could fight the second one too, but when there are lots of guns…
With enough time, I can stop one bullet. But bunches? Not without some hardcore mojo and lots of help.
There are gonna be bunches.
And I’m out of time.
I’ve done everything I can.
I could try to be sneaky.
Truly sneaky means I can’t take Amy. And I need her. I need to know what the heck is going on for once. If I have her, I can use her and maybe figure this out.
Sorta sneaky might get me past some of it, but it’ll take time. There’s none left.
If I had all the time in the world, I’d create my own portal. It’s possible, but it takes at least an hour, usually more.
I could teleport, but not without knowing where the heck I am. It’s just too risky. I could snoop around and find out. That’d be smart. Astral project and leave my body behind undefended. Let’s not.
I have to get to the portal the mystics in Scotland are forming. I know they are. I know that Buffy will want to…
And I have to stop her, or help if she comes.
I’ve got no other choice.
Steeling myself, I clench my left fist, digging my nails into my palm. I can’t break the skin, but it sure smarts.
On three…
One macaroni…
Two macaroni…
Three macaroni…
I take a step forward and turn to face the men. They notice me, but not before I hurl the energy ball. As I dive back the way I came, their weapons level on me. Tumbling to a halt, I cover my ears and curl around Amy’s bag.
Automatic weapons fire is muffled by the sound of the explosion. The floor rumbles. Pieces of the ceiling rain over me. The lights flicker and go dim.
More rain accompanies the blaring buzz of the alarm going off. This time it’s actually water. I set off the sprinkler system.
Growing soggier by the second, I jump to my feet and cast another really impressive, boomy spell. This one makes the Central Nervous System go all wonky. Not the best choice around guns, but I can’t think of anything else that’ll work as well for crowd control.
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
Soldiers pile into the hall. An overwhelming crush of excitement comes with them. There are so many, it’s hard for me to judge how many.
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
I finish the spell and poke my head out just long enough to chuck it into the fray.
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
As it does its boomy thing, I prepare another—something quicker—all flash and zap.
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
This time, I go. I have to. Time’s not something I have. Launching myself into the air, I shoot down the hall past the piles of writhing men.
The rat-tat-tat of weapons discharging makes me flinch.
I can’t help it. I’ll feel bad later. Right now…
It’s a really long hall, so I can just go.
Buffy would enjoy this.
I just hope I’m going the right way. That’s the only problem—well, not the only problem, just the biggest one right now. I have no clue where I am. As I hurl forward, I reach out, looking for people and magickal disturbances. I should be able to feel the portal forming now. But there’re lots of bizarre magickally-charged technological gadgets all over this place to distract me. The sheer power’s kinda staggering.
I wish there was something I could do.
This is way creepier than the Initiative. It’s like Initiative concentrate. New and improved, with more twisted gadgets, wacky friends and way crazier goals. The last bunch just wanted an army of cyber-demons.
And who doesn’t?
I could totally go for one myself right now.
But that’s it—the huge difference. It’s the human technology that mucks it all up. What I’m looking for is something pure. Something earth magicky—not wigged, hybrid demon magick with techy tricks dumped on top for oomph.
Completely drenched and shivering, I reach the end of the hallway and touch down. Another T-intersection. Left or right? I choose left, ducking into the alcove.
It’s a futile act, but I mop my face and stare at the heavy steel door. There’s one on either side and they’re both locked. I have to find a way past, but I need to know which one first. It’s not gonna be easy. Having to open both would just suck.
I close my eyes and reach out, extending my senses.
There are only a couple of people to the right. I can almost hear their thoughts if I focus really hard. Whispers, mumbled words, like Charlie Brown’s teacher, only much, much softer.
I lay my palm against the door and listen. My stomach lurches. Dead ahead, about twenty meters past the door, is my worst nightmare. It’s easy to figure that along with the nightmare…
A shiver creeps down my spine. There must be at least two-hundred soldiers out there.
It’s a trap. They’re waiting for Buffy.
Of course, my brain—it’s a traitor. Now that I’ve noticed them, the muffled roar fills my head.
I’m damned.
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
Concentrating on the lock, I work to trick it open. I have to. There’s no choice. More electronic gadgets—typical stuff—the right sequence of numbers entered into the keypad. I don’t have them and there’s no one around to borrow them from, so…
Sparks fly when I overload the circuit. The door is permanently locked now. Well, sort of…
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
To them it is.
I seize the locking mechanism and slide it aside with an absent thought. It’s heavy, but that’s all relative, as is the size of the door. It redefines ‘heavy.’ I need to channel more power to even budge it.
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
Y’know, I really don’t get the military mindset. They locked thirty soldiers in here with me, a dangerous hostile. I wonder if they still call them hostiles. Probably. I’m so much not a demon. Not even close. But odds are, along with the goals, the definitions were improved too.
Actually, I’m not a hostile. I’m bait. They may reconsider once I’m done.
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
Finally, with lots of stress and effort, the door retracts far enough into the wall for me to slip through.
One good: at least the sprinklers aren’t on. The incessant raining stops. There are plenty of other negatives to make up for the one minor positive.
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
There’s another door between me and them. I walk down the short stretch of hall and get to work.
Once the door sizzles and sparks, I channel the power to not only move it, but conjure another crowd crusher. Working on both things simultaneously keeps me from dwelling. I have to keep my head in the present.
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
I time everything right. As the door creaks, sliding aside, I chuck the glowing blue orb through the gap and take cover.
A loud clap breaks the silence. Weapons go off and screams fill the air.
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
My eyes flutter. I scrunch them closed for just a sec to steel my resolve against the pain. Then I slip through the doorway and straight into hell.
As my cranial barometer spikes, a hurt soldier grabs my ankle. It freaks me out. His body trembles uselessly, but somehow he holds on like a vice. I panic, kicking him away as I take to the air.
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
The room is cavernous. Some sort of huge loading dock. There are tanks and all sorts of nasty things here. It’s almost like they’re planning a war. Of course, that’s what armies do. Their job description reads: destroy stuff and kill people.
My head pounds. Swooping around, I draw random patterns in the air. The changes in direction and elevation make me woozy, but I have no choice. If I stay put, I’m a goner. The chaos builds. I ignore it—all the it—and cast another spell.
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
The blast only took out about a quarter of the soldiers. The remaining three-quarters have nothing to do except try to kill me.
And they do.
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
Flashes of light erupt below me when they take aim and fire. The smell of gunpowder permeates the air along with a deafening roar. I clutch Amy to my stomach with my free hand. If she gets shot, this’ll all be for nothing.
As I search for the portal, I lob quickly conjured energy bolts. They aren’t as strong, but they do what I need them to. The men that are hit are taken out of the fight.
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
The first time I get hit, I feel it. The pain isn’t something I can compare. It spins me around, out of control. I struggle to stay in the air. Thankfully, none of it lasts long. My body gets overwhelmed and shuts down. The next one just feels like a wasp sting, it goes numb so quickly I barely flinch. I tumble, but it’s no big.
I wonder how long it’ll be before the rest of me shuts down.
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
Not long.
At this rate, it’s gonna be a really short fight. And I’m gonna lose.
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
What I want, or what I think I want, lies on the far side of the loading dock next to a pair of bay doors. It looks like a huge metal onion, but it’s not. If I’m right, it’s a cannon, or sort of…
I reach out and touch the controls, inspecting them as I zip around the room.
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
If I were meaner spirited, I might line the soldiers up to shoot each other.
I’m not.
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
Firearms make me really squeamish. They did even before…
Now I look at them and instantly get the willies. Even the ones that just zap you set me off. There are a few men with those, but so far, all they’ve done is break concrete and cause chaos.
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
I take a page from their book. Being avoidy, I use the time to build power. When I have enough, I conjure a fireball and launch it at a pallet of crates. No telling what’s in it. But again, military…
The crates catch fire and the soldiers scatter. It takes a sec for the explosion to happen. It’s pretty impressive. Leave it to the military to have something just lying around that’ll make a bigger, better boom.
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
I use the diversion to get to the cannon. There’s a faint shimmer in front of it. The Scotland witches are right on time.
The controls are simple enough. Selecting a location is pretty pointless. It’s already set to where I don’t want to go, but where I need to go. The rest is just charge and shoot. Already charged and shooting…
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
The portal forms.
As I step in, I cast one final spell, carelessly chucking a ball of crackling blue light over my shoulder.
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
The blast when their funny portal cannon thingy blows up—it isn’t small. If I had fillings, they’d be missing.
Awash with blinding light and roaring sound, I go limp.
Something unseen seizes my ankles.
My body compresses.
I’m ripped forward—pulled almost to the point of snapping.
It’s like being shot through a soda straw, or I suppose…
Squished, stretched and spat out.
Hurling through the air, I bounce and tumble to an abrupt halt, smashing into a stone wall.
There’s movement all over the room. Anxiety and panic crush in around me.
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
It takes me a second to understand that I picked up a passenger on my way out. My first hint’s the soft groan. It comes from somewhere between me, the wall and the floor. Buffy? Silly slayer, she must’ve tried to catch me.
Not complaining, she probably saved my life.
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
Concentrating completely on her, I block the others out. She’s hurt, but not bad. Stiff and sore mostly. A few bumps and bruises. Way better than me. Breathing…
Trained apes with guns are just as much fun. That’s sorta what got me here. I inhale a shallow, trembling breath. It doesn’t hurt so much yet, but it will. The tight feeling across my chest tells me my ribs are cracked.
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
Weak and sluggish, Buffy shifts her legs, moving us both. Sharp pain cuts through my side, but I try to stay focused on her.
‘Y’know, it’s not very often that I get caught with my pants down.’
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
’Kay, catching up again, I want to giggle. If I could, it’d just hurt like hell. All I can manage is a weak grin. And even it’s ouchy.
As she gently rolls me away, the same thing occurs to her. ‘Umm…I seriously need to rethink that last thought. Actually, I may need to completely swear off idioms. That was just wrong.’
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
Flat on my back on the cold stone floor, I really, really need to giggle now.
Still nothing…
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
The discomfort’s just cute. A little disturbing, but cute.
‘I hate my brain.’
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
She touches the side of my face. ‘Considering the circumstances…’ Her fingers trail down to my neck. ‘The massive fireball and the projectile Willow…’ She locates my pulse and glances at her watch, counting and pondering, ‘I’m just grateful they aren’t all laughing. ’Cause me with the catching, the tumbling and the kersplat…it had to look funny.’
Not that I’m the best judge, but I think it’s safe to say there’s not a single soul in this room that found that funny.
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
‘Portals aren’t supposed to do that, right?’
No, Buffy, they’re absolutely not supposed to do that. I should actually try to tell her that soon before she really wigs.
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
‘Wow! This is really screwed up!’
Speaking of…
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
She pushes herself the rest of the way up, swings her legs around and kneels next to me. ‘There’s nothing funny here now.’
I must look awful ’cause the angst goes through the roof.
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
Her hand returns to the side of my face. She strokes my hair back. The touch is deceptively tender. Underneath, there’s a storm brewing. She’s really not impressed. “What the hell just happened?” she growls.
Some of the tension eases. The other witches are flat clueless. They could probably speculate, but that can be dangerous around a ticked-off Buffy. Maybe they’ve picked that up by now?
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
Hoping to put some of the unease to rest, I mumble, “It was me.” Wow, I sound horrible. And go figure, I just make it worse.
Anxiety positively drips off her as she leans in and whispers, “We need to get you to a hospital, Will.”
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
My eyes snap open. It scares her. She almost jumps. Let’s get one thing perfectly clear, Missy, no hospitals. I didn’t like them before and I like them even less now. I mouth the word no. Neither of us wants to hear my voice again.
Her brow furrows thoughtfully. She carefully scans my face, taking in my resolve. ‘And that settles that. If she’s strong enough to get pissed at me for mentioning the h-word, she’ll live.’
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
Her concern comes to rest on the dried blood underneath my right eye. ‘The bloody tears thing really is just horror movie camp. I’ve never seen it. Not that I’m a total expert, but really—’
I let some of the tension go, forcing my expression to relax. My eyes drift closed. Holding them open is lots more effort than it’s worth.
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
‘I don’t see much choice, or maybe it’s just that I’m selfish as hell.’ Rising to her feet, she stoops down and carefully tries to lift me. ‘Honestly, it’s probably a little of both.’
Careful or not, it goes badly. All the numb and the shock drift away. Sharp pain slices through my shoulder, starting out dull and building as I rise. My clavicle’s broken. I let out a gasp in spite of myself. I try to stifle a wince. My face scrunches up.
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
I don’t want to scare her. She’s right. This is the only really valid option. I’m not gonna last long around a bunch of people. The sick and the dying would kill me. But I may just be able to stand her. She can help me. I clamp my jaw, trying to fight back the tears.
She takes in my reaction, but continues to lift. Maybe she can tell that I’m fighting it? ‘There’s no point in discussion. This isn’t open to debate. If she’s not going to the hospital, then she’s coming with me. And we seriously need to bail. The only thing that’ll stop me is her. I have the feeling that if she wanted me to, even now, I wouldn’t have much choice.’
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
I’m just grateful she wants to.
I’ve always loved this about her. She’s positively territorial about the people she cares for. It’s written all over her now, every gesture, every thought.
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
My right arm dangles, utterly useless. Holding me up with her thigh, she takes it and places it on my tummy. Once it’s stationary and I’m supported, it gets better.
I don’t think either one of us got exactly how bad it was until she moved me. I know I didn’t. It was fine, or it worked when I stepped into the portal. I suppose the landing was worse than I thought.
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
The bag’s still hanging on my good shoulder. I’m surprised she doesn’t feel it, but I guess she’s as numb as I am. The fact that I’m making her wet and miserable hasn’t hit her yet either. Or at least she hasn’t complained.
I mumble, “The bag.” She looks, trying to figure out what the hell I’m talking about. It’s not like its small, but…
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
She gets it. The trouble is, it’s pinned between us. Xander steps in to help. She loosens her grip and he slips it away.
Poor Xander, his thoughts are all scattered and worried. I really wish there was something I could do.
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
There is.
Making eye contact, I force a thin smile. It’s the best I have. I hope it doesn’t look too fake.
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
His face is all soft with compassion. When he returns the smile, I say, “Quarantine her until I can—” My voice is a little stronger. It actually sounds sorta like a command. One I couldn’t complete, but close enough.
They need to get how dangerous this is. I have no clue what Amy can do now. And that rock. It looks totally harmless. The harmless looking stuff’s usually the worst. Or it could just simply be a rock. No clue. But in what reality do we ever get simple?
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
“Okay,” he replies and passes the bag off to the other witches. When he faces us again, his brow is furrowed. “Did you say her?” he asks.
Buffy meets his gaze and grins. ‘Confused Xander really is kinda funny. But he’s right.’
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
Curious too, she peers down at me and I mumble, “Make sure they check the pockets too.” The look on my face frightens her. I’m trying to be firm, but…well, it must be the pain.
She gets it, thinking the same. I put on another weak smile, hoping it’ll reassure her.
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
‘I need to get her out of here. Me holding her like this, it isn’t making anything better.’
As she slowly moves toward the stairs, I whisper, “Don’t touch anything.”
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
‘That does it. I have to look.’ She swings around. The witches have the bag open between them. They stare into it, appearing bemused. She walks over and looks down. I wish I had a camera ’cause her expression’s just priceless.
‘Uh-boy.’
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
She giggles. The poor witches twitch when the ha-ha only lasts as long as the ha-ha lasts. She snaps instantly volatile. Shooting a scalding glare at them, she commands, “I want that bitch…” she looks into the bag “…locked down. Twenty-four hour guard and the strongest suppression field you’ve got.”
‘Yeah…that was rational. But it’s not like they don’t think I’m already nuts, so…’
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
The poor witches. What were their names? Madeline and Alice, I think. They aren’t exactly receptive. I don’t blame them. Buffy’s been walking a pretty thin line. Wigging over a rat? It’s a new pinnacle of weird to them.
I make eye contact with Madeline and whisper, “Please.” The nod she gives is all I need.
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
Buffy, on the other hand, wants them to understand. She gives Xander a meaningful glance and turns away. ‘They need to know the sitch. The thing that did this is…well, one thing’s for sure, Will seriously gave her what she deserved. There might just be a tiny bit of justice left in the world, but usually only if we make it.’
I see the moon and the moon sees me.
Starting for the stairs, she grumbles, “Thanks. It’s been a long night. We should all get some rest.”
Thank God! She’s so careful, but each step still feels like an assault. I don’t care. Each one carries me a little farther from the noise. I gladly trade the pain for some peace.
The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
‘I’ve never seen her like this before.’ Refusing to take her eyes off me, she registers every jolt. ‘The dungeon might not have been the best choice. Sixty steps, each one of them bad.’
It’s kinda strange, she’s actually counting. Fifteen steps per flight. A distraction…
Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.
The other slayers on her team carefully slips past us one at a time. As they each cast a sympathetic glance, she returns a thin smile. There’s a sense of strain in the gesture. She wants to reassure them, but she’s not sure herself.
When they’re out of earshot, she murmurs, “Take what you need.” ‘We’ve been here before. It wasn’t this bad, or I don’t think it was, but we both get it. She’s not gonna get better anytime soon without help.’
Goddess bless the somebody I’d like to see.
Thank you.
As I very gently do what she asks, a tear trickles down my cheek. I won’t do this without permission. And even with permission, I can’t help feeling guilty. Kennedy sorta broke me of…
It’s a defensive thing now. Doing this to someone I care for is just…
She senses the gentle pull and smiles. ‘I’m not sure I’ve ever told her how much she means to me.’
A smile warms my face. You don’t need to. I shut my eyes.
As I use her gift to bind my shoulder, the questions begin to flow. The first one’s totally obvious. ‘Where was she?’
I’ll get to answering them, but I need to…I’m in too much pain right now. They make me a little queasy, but I can’t block them. All I can do is listen.
‘And what the fuck did Amy do to her? I had to get out of that room if for no other reason than the overwhelming desire to splat a rat. She’d look so much better under my boot.’
No.
A chill runs down my spine. If that time ever comes, I’ll stop you. I’m the murderer, Buffy. Not you. I won’t allow it.
‘How’d she get away? I was all set to make with the big rescue.’
And I’m so glad you didn’t.
‘What was the deal with the soldiers? This is seriously smelling like that shit from Freshman year. The whole military vibe just wigs me out. After Riley, I practically twitch over olive drab as it is. Not that it ever was a good color by any stretch.’
It gets easier as we go. With my shoulder immobilized, the pain isn’t nearly so bad. And she finally settles down, just vacantly focusing on moving.
Xander comes up behind us as she starts up the third flight of stairs. She’s kind of impatient and overprotective. I feel her tense when she senses him.
Not bothering to slow, she gives him a sidelong glance and asks, “Are we all on the same page now?”
‘Yeah, but aren’t you forgetting something?’ he holds the snark back, replying with a curt nod instead. She’s in no mood for teasing.
When she notices that he’s holding the scythe, her face flushes just a little. It’s kind of cute. ‘I totally spaced…’
‘Huh.’
Yeah, you might need that.
“Thanks,” she mumbles. ‘At least one of us is doing our job.’
In all fairness…it’s not like there was a shortage of stress. I guess I should be flattered.
“No problem,” he whispers, but his attention’s focused on me. He’s worried and afraid to say anything. I could ask him for a first aid kit, but I have a feeling that’ll come. It’s sort of pointless now.
‘I could be on fire and he wouldn’t notice,’ she reflects. There’s no jealously in it. It’s just a statement of fact. Xander’s not used to a quiet Willow. He thinks quiet means there’s something wrong. There is, but that’s not really it.
After several moments of silent trudging, he asks, “Anything?”
She shakes her head, considering, ‘He’s as curious as I am. I get that. But there’s nothing new to report.’
We reach the top of the third flight of stairs and turn the corner. She’s moving a little faster now. ‘Just one more and it’ll be over. The wincing isn’t so much now, but it still wigs me out.’
‘It was stupid to move her like this. I need to get that shoulder bound. Leave it to me to get all protecty and forget that there’s other stuff. It’s just—I needed to get her outta there. I kept thinking another freaking portal would…’
She freezes when I struggle to get my pinned left arm loose. I want to hold on, but it’s trapped against her tummy.
Xander steps in and helps me free it. I wrap it around her waist. Slowly trailing my hand up her back, I caress her. It’s good communication. The best kind, really. I don’t have to keep track of what she thought and what she actually said. Remembering is hard.
I can’t—if I slip up, it’ll be bad. I just can’t. I’m so sorry.
I remember. I remember how I felt—the way we all treated you. And I don’t want that. I just couldn’t bear it.
When I hook my hand over her shoulder, she starts up the last flight of stairs. It’s like this huge weight lifts from her—from them, really, Xander’s calmer too. All with that one little gesture.
Opening my eyes, I study her as she moves. So strong. She notices me and looks down, meeting my gaze. And so vulnerable.
I just—I did what you asked. I tried to do everything you asked.
- All material derived from pop culture at large is the property of its respective owner. No copyright infringement is intended. Please read the disclaimer.
- © Valyssia Leigh 2009
