The voice shrieked in her skull, the sound tearing at Willow’s brain with iron claws. Curled in a tight ball on her bed, she hid her head under her pillow. Not that this would help.
She whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut.
Pain drilled into her brain; piercing streams of red-hot rage scorched her mind. She pressed her hands against her temples and begged, “Stop, please stop, stop, stop…”
The smell of Dawn’s blood had called to her on a subconscious, primal level and she’d not been able to resist her attraction to the pull. It was the demon’s fault, but she didn’t dare accuse him. His punishment would be immediate and unbearable.
As the pain finally receded, she rolled onto her back, placed her head back on top of her pillow, and looked up at the ceiling. In the dim light of her bedroom the narrow, gleaming crack was clearly visible. Each night she watched it, transfixed in her dread. Watched as it grew larger, grew brighter with every passing day.
The demon’s spawn was in her head. Though it’s slithering, slimy tendrils wriggled inside her mind, he hadn’t yet returned physically. They’d hurt him too badly and even with all the magical energy he’d sucked out of Willow, he hadn’t enough for a speedy recover. But still, he was persistent, relentless in his appetite for power. Without pause, he wore away the barrier between their worlds, ripped at the very fabric of the universe. Soon, he would break through and then…
With all the resistance she had left, she retreated to her haven, to her place of safety, to the center of her being inside her mind where he couldn’t reach her – yet.
Her haven was a lovely place, or had been, once upon a time.
Tall, majestic beech trees surrounded the sunny clearing, intermixed with pliant rowans full of clusters of gleaming, red berries. The haven still offered Willow a place to rest and regroup, but the peace had been drained from it. The leaves had turned a burning orange and the grass was starting to wither and die. Brambles snagged at her feet and scratched her ankles as she approached her usual perch on a downed tree in the middle of the clearing. A passing cloud shaded the sun and she shuddered at the sudden gust of cold wind.
Far to the north, she saw tree tops swaying violently in a sudden squall. A squirrel chattered angrily from a nearby branch as a particularly tall tree in the distance bent and fell, ripping and tearing down smaller trees on its destructive descent. She heard the explosive crack of branches as they were violently torn from their living trunks. The demon’s constant psychic assault battered against her boundaries and the region her will still controlled was shrinking daily.
Willow sat down on the log and wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. She rocked back and forth as she replayed her memory of the Christmas party.
When Dawn had called out, she’d automatically looked at her. As the sight of Dawn’s blood and the rich, coppery scent hit Willow’s over-active senses, the demon’s instincts had taken over for a moment. On her insistence he’d withdrawn, but she didn’t fool herself. His retreat had been carefully calculated, and not because she’d been strong enough to push him back.
Had she trusted in Tara’s good advice and respected the use of magic, she might not be in this mess. Willow sighed. She thought of Tara, of her lovely, sweet face, her soft hands and pliant body. She turned and smiled sadly at her love, now sitting beside her on the moss-covered log.
“Tara, I miss you so much,” Willow said, desperately. She knew that Tara was just a projection, born from her loneliness. But she found it easier to talk to her friend than with a phantom of herself.
“I’ve been such an idiot. Magic always has consequences, right? See where that’s brought me…” She paused and thought back to the beginning. “I believed Meagan when she told me that all that power’s just there for me to take. If I can harness the power, then I have the right to use it, to do whatever I like with it. They’re probably all laughing at me now…” Willow stared at the tree tops in the distance and the dark clouds billowing over them. A storm was coming.
“I can’t hold him off much longer. He wants the Key. It’s been all about Dawn since Rack and his demon first saw her,” Willow continued, trying to explain to the figment of her lover. “I’m just a vessel, his only vessel, since Rack’s dead. I’m not stupid; I know that I’m only alive because the demon still needs me.”
With compassionate eyes, Tara looked at her. Willow reached for her hand, but her fingers went through the mirage, like bathing in a beam of sunlight. It warmed her hand, but she so longed to touch Tara, to caress her face without the demon’s mocking laughter in her head.
Willow buried her head in her hands and silent, desperate tears ran down her cheeks. “I can’t tell you, can’t tell any of you, what’s going on inside me. He controls my speech and my actions. The only thing left for me is to stall, to keep him from taking me over completely, for as long as possible.”
“Sleep well, my love.” She waved her hand and Tara’s image vanished.
Willow’s eyes went towards the swaying tree tops in the distance. With a roaring crash, another tree went down. Birds flew off, startled, and a black cloud surrounded one late robin. The piercing cries of the bird cut into her heart until they finally died away; a few feathers slowly descended towards the ground.
How much time did she have left?
Spike’s hand lay warm across Buffy’s waist. She spooned against his naked body, her breath slow and steady in sleep. She was so warm, so hot…
Too hot!
With a shout, he squelched the flames licking at the back of his hand and rolled down to the floor, into the safe shadows behind the bedstead.
“What?” Buffy sat up, her eyelids still heavy with sleep, her hair tousled in a gleaming halo around her head.
“Sorry, luv, hate to wake you up…” he apologized from his shelter, peeking carefully over the edge.
“Oh my God!” Buffy sprang out of bed and quickly pulled the curtains closed. The wind through the open window had blown them apart and a broad stretch of golden light had crawled over her bed. Hastily, she pinned the draperies together and grabbed the jar of skin lotion from her dressing table.
“Let me see,” she demanded. Stretching out her hand she sat back on the bed.
“It’s nothing, pet, really! Don’t ‘ave to pamper me. Just an irritation, it is.” He was angry at himself for being so careless. Here he was, the first time in her bed, a place he’d never dreamed of being invited into, and what did he do? Instead of gently waking her up with kisses and murmured endearments, he’d ripped his girl out of sleep and scared her.
Buffy raised her eyebrow. “It’s still smoking.”
Spike sat obediently back on the bed and surrendered his appendage to her. His resistance would only prolong the inevitable ending. When she had this look in her eyes, she wouldn’t budge.
Tenderly, Buffy tapped cream on his inflamed skin. Her fingers were softly holding his hand, her head bent over it. She wrapped a clean bandage around his palm and fastened it with a knot. As she placed his hand gently in her lap, she looked up into his eyes.
“I’ll have to vamp-proof my room,” she apologized. “I can’t risk you burning up.” She bit her lower lip and her eyes were full of concern.
“I know better ways for you to burn me up, luv, thousand times more enjoyable.” He sucked in his cheeks and smirked at her, wagging his brows up and down suggestively. “Right now I just want to eat you up, sushi pajamas and all. You look yummy, absolutely adorable.”
To proof his point, his cock proudly stood to attention. He lowered his uninjured hand and wrapped his fingers firmly around his erection, pumping slowly up and down. A drop of creamy white pre-cum pearled out of its slit. Buffy’s tongue slid out to wet her lips, the rosy tip lingering on her lower lip. Hypnotically, her hazel eyes watched his movement, her pupils widening. Under her skin, her blood was rushing hot and fast.
“We can’t... Dawn and Tara…” she sighed, although her eyes never wavered from where they were glued to his lasciviously moving hand.
“’s not a problem. Means we’ve got to be quiet, kitten. Very, very quiet...” He put his bandaged hand on her shoulder and pressed her softly back into the cushions. Her eyes followed his movements as he abandoned his prick and opened the first button of her top.
His lips kissed the silken skin of her cleavage and he inhaled deeply. “You smell of oranges and cinnamon.”
Another button popped, quickly followed by the next. He spread her top open and slid his index finger slowly from the pit of her neck downwards, through the valley between her firm mounds to the dip of her belly button. Her skin was so soft and he could feel goose bumps forming under his fingertip.
With fingers spread wide, he placed his palms on her belly and gently slid them upwards over her ribcage. He cupped her breasts with both hands and rubbed his thumbs over her hard nipples. “You have the most perfect tits, luv. They’re made for me.”
Buffy drew in deep breaths and her chest heaved under his caress. He bent down and licked at her hard peaks, then sucked the soft flesh of her breast into his mouth. Buffy placed her hand over her mouth and bit into the ball of her thumb. Her other hand frantically loosened the string of her pajama bottoms.
Spike’s eager hands grabbed the waistband and he slipped the garment down her legs. He lay down beside her and ran his hand softly up her curves. Buffy turned towards him, threw her leg over his hip and captured his cock with her body. Deftly, she positioned his hard rod at her wet opening.
Soft, warm lips covered his mouth and squelched his moan as he slid deep into her hot channel. They rocked slowly, tenderly together, savoring the exquisite sensation. Feather-light, Buffy’s hand caressed his back, her fingertips following the muscular strands gliding under his skin. Her heel pressed into his thigh, holding him tightly against her. His bandaged hand was folded over her firm buttocks, pressing her to him in the rhythm of their dance.
He could feel her vaginal muscle flutter around his prick as the tension started to rise inside her and he deepened his strokes, pushing them over the edge. With a gush of hot breath she soundlessly cried her release into his mouth, swallowing his growl in return.
He relaxed in the sweet aftermath of their love-making, his arms resting relaxed around her body. He leaned his brow against her forehead and inhaled the sweet fragrance of her skin and the salty aroma of their mingled juices. Tenderly, he brushed a strand of hair away from her moist cheek, his fingertips worshiping her soft skin.
Buffy raised her head and placed a soft kiss onto his lips. “Best Christmas present ever…”
On Boxing Day in the early afternoon, Buffy entered the Magic Box to find Giles and Elin already waiting for her at the table, both deep in conversation. They looked at her expectantly.
“Hello, Buffy, what’s so important that you wanted to meet us here today?” Giles greeted her.
“Willow.” Buffy pulled out a chair and settled into it.
Elin frowned and tucked a stray lock of her strawberry hair behind her ear. “Willow’s fine, just a bit exhausted after the Christmas party, but that was to be expected. She’s been asleep since yesterday.”
“Are you really sure that Willow’s alright again, Elin?” Buffy flattened her hands on the table top.
“Well, yes. Her energy’s still a bit low and she tires quickly, but everything seems to be progressing,” Elin replied.
“Buffy, what’s the matter?” Giles asked. “You’re normally not concerned without a good reason.”
Buffy took in a deep breath and stared down at her hands. “Dawn cut her finger during the party and Willow… she like… totally wigged. The blood got her all excited. She stared at Dawn and something was wrong with her eyes.”
She raised her head and looked at them with troubled eyes. “The light was dim, but I’m sure about it. I saw her eyes turn black. There was something moving in them, a dark shadow. Just like at Halloween; when she got angry, her eyes changed black then too.”
“Oh, dear,” Giles exclaimed and pulled off his glasses. “You think that she’s still under the influence of Rack? No, that can’t be. Rack’s dead and his demon was defeated.”
Buffy exchanged a concerned glance with her Watcher before she continued. “Elin, do you have any information about that demon?”
“It’s a parasite who steals energy from people with magical talents. Let me look for my notes.” She bent down, picked up her bag, and pulled out a notebook. She leaved through it for a while.
“Normally, this creature sucks energy while placing the victim in a trance, a dream state, very much like a LSD-induced hallucination. The victim feels energized, but the process really just loosens inhibitions. It drives a person to use more power than normal and that can drain their own life force over time. The experience is addictive and the process is parasitic.” She looked at Buffy. “That’s what I assume happened to Willow.”
Giles energetically rubbed his glasses with his handkerchief. “Elin, you said ‘normally’. Is there another modus operandi for this creature? How can its relationship to Rack be explained? He called the demon ‘Master’ and seemed to have a contract or some agreement with it.”
“The demon is a creature from another universe and according to my resources only able to partly cross over to our world. So it keeps a personal servant on our side; with this representative, it develops a symbiotic link. It controls its servant to recruit more ‘food’ and enables him to access and manipulate other dimensions. That explains the moving inter-dimensional room this Rack was living in.” Elin leaved through more pages and finally shook her head.
“I couldn’t find any detailed information about this symbiotic relationship. Most of what I have are speculations. If the demon is destroyed or driven back to its home-dimension, normally the servant dies or goes insane when the connection to the demon is cut off. I understood that’s what happened here, right? The demon was killed and Rack, the servant, died too.”
Buffy shook her head. Something didn’t add up. “I don’t think I killed the demon, but it was seriously injured and backed out. It could still be over there, on the other side. Rack was already raving mad when we came. Tara had to kill him when he attacked the unconscious Willow with a club.”
Elin blanched. “You say Rack was insane before the demon was driven back? It would never sever the bond to its servant unless…” She looked at Giles and they exchanged a worried glance.
An ugly lump of fear settled into Buffy’s stomach. “Guys! Not a mind reader here. What does that mean?”
“My dear, it could mean that the demon had already got hold of a new servant before Rack was killed. That could only mean Willow, since nobody else was there.” Giles put his glasses back on. His face was drawn and sad, his brow creased with worry.
Buffy thought back to the last few weeks. Willow had been in a coma for nearly two weeks and after she’d woken up, she’d been so weak and quiet. Could it be that she had been under the influence of the demon all that time?
“But where’s the demon now? If it still has influence over Willow, how can it do that if it isn’t here? And what if we find it and kill it, what will happen to Willow?” So many questions, Buffy thought.
Giles and Elin just looked at her, they didn’t have any answers to that either.
“But we can help Willow, right?” Buffy grasped for a straw of hope. “Now that we know…”
“Buffy, I’m sorry. I can’t tell how deep the demon’s influence is rooted inside Willow. It’s seemingly well hidden since I haven’t detected it on my normal examinations. I should’ve looked closer, probed deeper, but…” Elin looked ashamed and closed her notebook.
“I’ll contact the Coven and ask for help. Our main concern should be to keep Dawn as far away from Willow as possible, and to make sure that the demon can’t spread or even transfer its influence onto us.” Elin stood up and went over to the window. Her shoulders tense, she folded her arms around her chest and stared out into the street, deep in thought.
Finally, she turned around and went back to the table, her features grim. “We’ve got to put Willow in isolation. We’ve to place protective spells over everyone who comes near her. We’ll also have to come up with a plausible explanation as to why we keep her secluded.”
Elin sat down again and bowed her head for a moment. When she looked up again, her eyes were haunted. “I’m a healer,” she sighed. “I heal people. To protect us all, I see no other way but to go against my oath. I’ll infect Willow with an illness, a rash or eczema. That will provide cover and give us a plausible excuse for limiting her access to others. It’s unpleasant, but not epidemic or even life threatening.”
Gently, Giles laid his hand over Elin’s. “That’s a good idea. Sometimes, the right decisions are difficult.”
Elin gave Giles a grateful smile. Her face softened and the tension ran out of her. It wasn’t a wonder that Giles felt attracted to her. When she smiled she looked very appealing, Buffy thought.
As Giles noticed Buffy’s thoughtful glance, his lips quirked in a small smile and he raised his left eyebrow questioningly.
Buffy just nodded. It wasn’t her place to judge anyway.
“What about your other research? Did you find out more about Dawn’s keyness?” Buffy finally changed the subject. “What about the garbled prophecy?”
Elin straightened. “Rupert and I are still working on the translation of the ‘Book of Satori’. The warriors mentioned are indeed referring to a Slayer and a vampire. This is a strong indication that the description might actually apply to you and Spike. There are other documented vampire/Slayer pairings throughout known history, but they didn’t last long, for the Watcher’s Council invariably hunted and executed them. Gladly, such barbaric methods are no longer used.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” murmured Buffy.
“The Council still has its wet-works team,” Giles explained. “But I believe Mr. Travers has accepted that Buffy’s not so easy to deal with. We have a truce with the Council, but they don’t like how we handle our job.”
“Oh, I see,” Elin said. “Well, I’m with the Coven and not with the Council. The Coven knows about the natural attraction between a Slayer and a powerful, older vampire. If a Slayer comes into her twenties, normally she looks for a compatible partner. Of course, a vampire is the natural choice, someone who can hold up with her strength and doesn’t age as well.”
Buffy listened with astonishment. So, her attraction towards vampires was normal for a Slayer? Why hadn’t anybody explained that to her before now? It would’ve saved her a whole boatload of heartache. By the dumbfounded look on Giles’ face, not even he had known this secret.
“Wait, what was that about ‘aging’?” Buffy suddenly caught onto the phrase.
Elin explained. “A Slayer doesn’t age once she reaches adulthood and is fully grown. There are few Slayers recorded who got older than twenty-five years, so it’s still a hypothesis, but the current state of medical research supports it. Your Slayer healing is constantly repairing all damaged cells in your body, Buffy, so aging, which is caused by cell degeneration, just doesn’t take place.”
Giles shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything about that theory during my Watcher’s training.”
“I know,” Elin confirmed. “I haven’t either. Sadly, most Slayers die young, so this information is only of theoretical interest. But continued youth means keen reflexes, agility and endurance; those are survival factors which shouldn’t be underrated.”
“So, no aging and a vampire partner - life is certainly full of surprises,” Buffy summarized. “What about the Gatekeeper? Does this mean that Dawn’s still the Key and can open gates between dimensions? That would explain why the demon’s so interested in her.”
“We’re cross-referencing my research notes with the prophecy right now, Buffy,” Giles said. “We think that Dawn instinctively opened passages between dimensions on at least two occasions; when she escaped from Rack and when she brought you all back. This indicates that she’s developed some control over her powers, even if on a subconscious level. We’re still trying to find a way to test and train her so she can use her powers properly.”
“Have you asked Anya for help? She knows a lot about traveling between dimensions and has connections all over the place. Maybe she can come up with an expert for us.”
“Why haven’t I thought about that?” groaned Giles.
“Because you’re growing old and senile?” teased Buffy. She looked at her watch. “Dawn will be here soon for her first lesson and Spike’s joining us. I have the key to the backdoor, so if you want to leave…”
“Will Tara come by with Dawn?” Giles asked. “We need to let her know about our suspicions regarding Willow as soon as possible.”
Buffy nodded. “I wish we could spare her the heartache. She was so happy that Willow was with us for Christmas.”
A look of deep sympathy appeared on Elin’s face. “We will need her help, she knows Willow best.”
“…eighteen, nineteen, twenty,” Buffy counted their sit-ups.
Dawn slumped back onto the mats. “Tell me again why I wanted training…” Only twenty sit-ups and she was totally winded and already wiped out. They’d done all that warm-up and the stretching yoga-y stuff and she’d felt like a fish out of water, a very unfit fish, at that.
Laughing, Buffy stopped and looked at her sister. “It’ll get better each day, I promise.”
“Each day…” She remembered that Elin had told her she still trained regularly. Dawn hoped it would really get better over time. It just had to!
“Come on, I’ll teach you how to fall while we wait for Spike.” Buffy stood up and offered Dawn her hand. Groaning, she took it and was hauled off the ground.
“If you fight, you’re gonna fall. The important thing is not to stay down. If you’re on the ground, you’re vulnerable. You have to learn to redirect the force of the fall to help you get up again. The simplest moves are to roll forward or backwards. Let me show you…”
Dawn watched Buffy’s demonstration as the door to the training room was opened and Giles stuck in his head. “Buffy, there’s a visitor for you. He says it’s urgent.”
Grabbing her towel, Dawn followed Buffy out into the shop.
In front of the counter, a demon stood, wringing his hands agitatedly. He looked strange, with his skin hanging in wrinkles down his face and his cute floppy ears. Dirt smudged his cheeks and tears filled his red eyes.
He stormed to Buffy, grabbed her hand, and pulled her towards the door. “Buffy, you gotta help! Hurry!!”
“Wait, Clem, what’s the matter?” Obviously, Buffy knew the stranger.
“It’s Spike! There was an accident…” Clem anxiously yanked at her hand.
All the blood drained from Buffy’s face. She stood frozen and white as a sheet.
Dawn blinked and clapped her hand over her mouth. “He… he isn’t… dead?” she finally stammered.