Thanks guys, that is the reaction I expected and hoped for... but there is always one who will object and they won't make themselves known until after the fact. This is me heading that off. Frankly with the great beta job Jo did that part is not what it was (28) and well within board policy (rather than skirting the edges)
BTW - Sass's very well meant "Tara's really... and pain and torture..." stuff. Love the sentiment Sass.. .not going there at all*S* You know that, I know that but speculation on it... totally wasted.
Happy is happy. Unambiguously. By the end.
And so to Part 23. Really three snippets that are linked to keep the story moving. Enjoy.
Katharyn
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Title:
The Sidestep Chronicle – Worries / Visiting (Part 23)
Author: Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome.
katharynrosser@hotmail.comSpoiler Warning: Pretty limited. The story occurs in an alternate universe though reference is made to events that occur in both realities.
Summary: Giles gets some news and Willow pays a visit.
Disclaimer: I still don’t own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS. All rights lie with the production company, writers etc, etc. I am making zilch from this series of stories.
Rating: 15
Couples: Close is a lingerie shop without a front window. I never got that joke either… anyone care to explain?
Notes: Three snippet parts tied together for you to enjoy.
Thanks To: Oh just the people who keep this whole show on the road. Jo for the useful information that helped to shape this part. More than just a pretty beta reading face. Kerry and Louise as always.
The Sidestep Chronicle
Worries / Visiting
By
Katharyn Rosser
“I’m just not certain that I can do it anymore,” he told her, shaking the letter that confirmed what he had campaigned and protested for.
“Anymore Rupert? You’ve never had to do this before,” Jenny pointed out to him wishing he would show a little pride. “Unless you’ve been keeping secrets,” she teased.
He ignored that teasing, as he had learnt to do through long and quite pleasant experience. “Yes, but there was a time when all I wanted was a Slayer, here in Sunnydale. When that would make everything better and we could do some real good – together.”
“And you wanted that when you asked for it a few weeks ago,” she reminded him. “Do you think that you can’t do that now? That you cannot do any good?” To Jenny’s way of thinking the one thing this town – and her fiancé, could really use was a vampire Slayer. The reasons were pretty obvious. So obvious that without there being some really gruesome details the newspapers didn’t even bother to report random killings anymore. He had lobbied London for the next Slayer and he had succeeded – when that young woman was located. He should be happy – she was happy for him.
“It’s just that now that it is real, I’m just not sure that I can handle a Slayer now, here. My training is behind the times, Wesley Wyndham-Bloody-Price made that very clear to me when he passed though seeking the girl. And what we have done here so far…” he broke off.
“You, Larry… Oz and Nancy,” she stroked his arm as he remembered those last two, one some time ago, the other so painfully recently. “You all did good for the people round here. You know that.”
“And yet here we are locked in our houses every night whilst the Master and his minions roam freely. We did nothing but survive,” he suggested to her. “And not all of us actually managed to do that.” He was supposed to have kept them alive.
“Fine!
You survived. That isn’t a crime Rupert. You survived long enough to persuade the Council that this is a Hellmouth – that you need a Slayer to make things better around here… and they finally listened to you. They
have given you a Slayer. The Slayer. One girl in all the world Rupert – and they gave her to you – at least they will when they find her.” She actually got him to smile a little at that. There was some pride left in the man after all. “They trust you Rupert. I trust you.” She placed a kiss on his cheek. “And when she gets here the Slayer will trust you too. Now show a little faith in yourself.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She usually was, that was just a little bit of what made her perfect.
“I’m always right… we decided that when I asked you to marry me if you remember,” she pointed out to him.
He gave her a resigned little smile. “I’d forgotten.”
“But I’ll always remind you,” she said, kissing him again but he was thinking of something. “Come to bed.” After all it was one of their last nights alone in the house. Once the Slayer was found… it was likely she would have to stay here with them – at least for a while. If the Watcher sent to find her ever tracked her down…
“Already?” he checked his watch. “It’s only eight-thirty.”
She gave him her ‘I’m always right remember’ look then offered. “You can help me take my jewellery off,” with a wicked grin.
“Right. Yes. Lead on.”
Jenny set off up to the bedroom, a twinkle in her eyes and a bounce in her step, but she could hear, at the door, that he had paused.
“What if I get her killed? Like Oz and Nancy?” he asked, but he wasn't necessarily talking to her… he was talking to an empty room as if the Watcher’s Council was arrayed around him.
She answered him anyway. “Then she’ll be dead, Slayers die. People die… but you’ll make things better – and she might not die. You’ve survived Sunnydale… all this time. You showed me how to do that. You’ll show her how to as well. Come on.” She held out her hand to him and resolved to help him forget all about his worries. They had their ways of helping each other forget what was on the outside of the front door. Just for a few hours at a time.
*************
Willow had visited this site several times since she had been turned. Sitting in the trees high above the grave of her Mother. Such a delightfully sweet kill that one. Not fresh by any means… much, much older than the tender flesh that she preferred to bite into. But how special… to kill her own Mother.
She came here hoping that someone would visit her grave. It had been years since the mother and daughter had died… but no one would come at night. No one with the slightest bit of self-preservation anyway. The only person that might though… Ira hadn’t been showing much self-preservation when she had last seen him. Before the factory. Before the White Hat had killed her. But it was a way to pass the time between meals and playtime - and if someone did come then that meal would be so much more fun. She hoped he would…
Closing her eyes she could imagine playing with her food – even if it wasn’t him. In fact in her imagination it wasn’t. On top of her own grave, though obviously it was empty – especially as she was so very… alive! She ran a finger along her limbs testing that. On top of her mother’s grave maybe. And when Ira next came… the body would be long gone of course - there were all sorts of scavengers in Sunnydale… but the blood. The little pebbles that he left for his wife would be coated in the blood of another innocent. The headstone smeared with it. Ants scurrying around cutting the grass which would be coated in the sweetest substance.
When it happened… one day… she would have to make sure that she sacrificed some of her nutrition. Slash an artery… a good warm shower for the creepy crawlies to feast on. Mmmmn. She liked to think what that would do to him…
The arrival of flowers on the graves though had brought her back here every night. Not that there were new ones every day. When she came just after sunset they were not there… then she went hunting and there they were. Different times. As if the person was just passing by and stopping off every couple of days.
It wasn't her human father. He followed tradition and laid only a pebble to mark his visit to his wife. Quite a pile building up – the grave was practically covered. She had messed with him a little a few years ago. Rearranging them in obscene words or taking them all away. And the next time she had come… he had brought back an identical number and re-laid them. Those games grew boring after a while though. His patience was greater than hers.
Nothing for his daughter though. No, nothing for Willow. That stung something inside. Made her angry. But still… she was here and her mother wasn’t. Not his daughter… not his wife. Maybe soon not even him – if she got really bored, she thought toying with the idea. There really was nothing left to take away from him though. She had tried her best to seize his sanity and tear it to shreds… like the puppy might have done once upon a time, but she had been away too long. He’d had a respite in which to recover. Oh well. Perhaps she would pay him a visit sometime soon.
Would he invite her in?
But the flowers. They varied from visit to visit… as if someone was just taking what some florist had left over. Or what they could scavenge from the funeral home. Perhaps it was that witch who had threatened to interrupt her fun? They had met twice more in the week since that first time in the old shop. Once in an alley whilst Willow had been hunting and once after she had already trapped her prey… killed it and was about to move on to the next…
And Willow was sure that the witch, who she had learnt was called Tara, had watched her do that to her prey and, like before, had not interfered. Just watched… And that was supposed to be the protector of the people of Sunnydale for the Mayor?
It hadn’t taken much to find that out that this Tara worked for the hated Mayor. She was hunting the vampires in Sunnydale like Willow hunted the humans that fed her… with almost as much fervour. It was equally obvious that it was this Tara that was cutting a swathe through the more stupid vampires in the Master’s court – and some of the more cunning and devious ones too. Losses were beginning to add up… and the Master wanted the witch very dead. Or very much on her knees before him, begging for a life he would take from her anyway – no matter how much she begged.
Willow had no intention of giving the witch over to him though.
Not yet anyway. The more the witch allowed her to continue to feed and play – and whilst she killed the other Brethren of Aurelius - the more Willow was becoming fascinated by her. By what drove and motivated her – both to kill and to leave Willow to her fun. Since that first meeting and a lingering, bloody, finger being drawn over the witch’s cheek they had not touched again… just seen, exchanged names – though the witch had already known hers, and parted with lingering, unsure glances. Filled with disgust sometimes… pain. Disbelief… and other feelings. Feelings that might hold a lot of promise. But it was the touch, the memory of that touch… the power and the charge that had coursed through her, that drove Willow to want more – always more.
More was always better, as every teenager knew… and Willow was an eternal teenager.
What would drinking the witch’s blood be like if she could feel like that just from touching her cheek? What, Willow continued to wonder, leaving basic hunger for what really interested her, would a kiss be like? A lick? What would another kind of touching be like… not just touching but being touched… in all sorts of interesting places? Being touched, kissed and licked…? With that sort of attraction, and it was so very surely an attraction that Willow felt, it would be…
It would be more than just simple fun.
It would be delicious and a playtime that she
really wanted to have. And so she would not kill the witch, she would not deliver her to the Master… but she would hunt her. Soon… soon enough she would hunt Tara Maclay down and she would taste that kiss… feel that charge on her lips. Then she would see what else there was to be had. One way or another. She wondered what else the witch would let her do… though Willow wouldn’t let her just stand by and remain passive. The witch was going to be involved. Up to her eyeballs, her pretty blue eyes…
Nothing was going to happen here, this night, though. Willow leapt down from the highest branches that would support her weight, landing with a grace that she had never had in gym. She loved this body… and now she was going to go and find another body to feed from.
And perhaps play with too until she could have the witch all to herself.
----------------------
Tara stood in the distance watching the vampire resting in the tree. When she had first come across Willow waiting here… presumably for her… it had seemed a good way to continue tracking the vampire. Of watching her and strangely Tara did like to watch her. To observe… and even appreciate her. Some of the things she did at least.
Her? She was thinking of it, the vampire, as her, Tara knew that was dangerous. It removed her objectivity – but where this vampire was concerned she had so little. She treated Willow as a person in her mind because she had dreamt about her. Because she had for as long as she could really remember. Because in her mind she knew Willow – and the vampire was not the Willow that she knew in those dreams. It couldn’t be, because it was not the vampire that Tara wanted.
I do want her, Tara thought,
I really do. And I have never even known her. Not really. But what did she want from a vampire? The woman that Tara was dreaming of, or the vampire? The answer was obvious… but one of them she could never have. So why did she allow it… her… to kill. To have her many, terrible, pleasures when Tara could easily have done something about it… as she had a hundred, a thousand times before?
She could have destroyed Willow so many times… She could do it now, at a pinch, from here, without Willow knowing that she was even watching her.
But Tara couldn’t. She couldn’t and she wouldn’t. Not unless Willow forced her to… and, Tara knew, maybe not even then.
But what would ‘force’ her to anyway? Protecting the innocent? No. She had already proven that was not the case.
Protecting herself? Probably not that either.
Avoiding the implications of the deadly kiss that only a vampire could offer? Only that. If Willow tried to turn her then she would react… Tara knew that she would lash out to prevent that… if she could figure out that was what the vampire intended. Before it was too late. Which is why Tara knew that she couldn’t have what she wanted – even if it was possible.
She couldn’t let Willow get so close that she might be unable to prevent that deadly kiss.
I am.Tara admitted to herself,
obsessed with her. She fills my dreams. She fills my thoughts and she is starting to fill my life. I come here, diverting the hunts, when she is likely to be here… just so I can watch her. Follow her sometimes and twice now forced a confrontation when we can look at each other… and I can read her. Her desires and her intentions.Willow’s desires and intentions were so obvious that it hurt admit to herself. The vampire wanted to play with her. And, sometimes, when she was lying in bed… or walking around town… she wouldn’t have objected to it much at all.
On some level… Tara knew that she wanted Willow whoever she was. Whatever she was. And whatever she would do to her.
On other levels the vampire both fascinated and disgusted her. The detached way that part of her brain could analyse the rest of itself was interesting in its own right. It just showed that she knew what she was doing… and that she herself knew the truth.
That more than anything I just want her.She watched the vampire drop with a graceful, lithe movement to the ground admiring, in spite of herself, the shape in the tight leather trousers… the curves revealed and encouraged by such a constricting top… The flow of her hair under the force of gravity and air pressure. The way that Willow moved. The way that she looked. Her presence…
Her very being and existence.
It was not just a physical desire… though Tara had to admit that was undeniable at times. At least she could admit it to herself… but she finally got it. She finally understood that
something which drew humans to the presence of vampires… if only once. She had seen it often enough… cursed it, and the weakness of the person who became a meal – if they were lucky. Vampires gained
something from their becoming… when they were turned. It wasn't quite charisma… Willow had demonstrated little of that in their meetings. It wasn’t quite presence… though she certainly had that. Nor was it merely confidence… This Willow was completely different in that respect from the young woman that she had apparently been when she had died. She had been shy, nervous, bookish. That sounded a familiar description to Tara. This Willow though… she was none of those things.
That had to be it, what was at the root of the feelings that she was having. It had to be some mystical advantage that vampires gained from their becoming and used to trick unwary humans. What else could there be? What else would keep her from staking that vampire right now as she walked away into darkness to go and hunt and kill?
Perhaps the fact that Tara wanted her… somehow… anyhow. She always had – right from the start of the dreams Tara knew that she had… The loneliness she felt. Was that a product of the dreams or the cause of them? And even then why dream of this Willow – when she didn’t even know her?
Once the vampire had gone she went to the grave and laid down the flowers. If she had asked herself then whether they were to honour the girl and her mother or to attract the vampire back here for a time another night… she couldn’t have said and been sure she was telling herself the truth.
She wasn’t sure she should be leaving flowers at all… the pebbles on Sheila’s grave… but were they just for family members? Maybe she should ask… go look it up. But when it came down to it… she just wanted to remember the Willow who had been. And her mother. Did it matter how?
Yes it did… Willow had probably had beliefs. Her mother too. Certainly Ira. She lifted the flowers from Sheila’s grave and placed a pebble there instead. Willow… Willow she gave the flowers to the empty grave and placed a first pebble on that one too.
Was it just to honour them though? Or was she trying to attract Willow back here another night… so she could watch the vampire again? Keep track of her?
Ultimately both reasons were the same. Willow.
***************
You hear that baby? I am going nowhere.
by LeatherQueen » Sun Apr 21, 2002 2:44 pm 
And Tara changed Amy and Catherine back. Hm. It seems this Amy is not very different from our verse's Amy. 
at: 4/22/02 1:51:10 pm
at: 4/22/02 9:12:29 pm