Chapter 1 When She's Gone
A pity beyond all telling Is hid in the heart of love. --W. B. Yeats
There were worse ways to wake up than the touch of your lover's lips...even if they were on your nose. Tara lazily opened her eyes and saw Willow lying next to her, smiling impishly. "Hey," she said, not quite awake. "I thought you were getting dressed for work." "I was," Willow replied. "But I found myself compelled." "Compelled?" "I simply had to come over here and kiss your nose." "I see," Tara said, grinning. "It was too cute not to." "Was it, now." "I would describe it as button-like in its cuteness." They lay on Tara's bed, atop the covers. It was late August, and the room was a sweet confusion of smells, incenses mixing with the warm breeze blending with the fragrance of their own bodies. Willow's fingers danced lightly across Tara's back, a gently tickling motion. "You're going to be late," Tara giggled. "Probably. Actually, I have a proposal for you." "What's that?" "Well, since the house is gonna be empty today, I'm thinking that I should call in sick. Then, I think we should stay in this bed for the remainder of the day, since it's just too hot to do anything else." "Mmmm...I have heard that on really hot days like this, it's best to stay out of the sun..." Tara now shared her girlfriend's mischevious smile. She reached out and ran her fingers through Willow's hair. "You are so beautiful." "So are you," Willow murmured. She moved closer, closed her eyes...and kissed Tara's nose again. "Missed." "Couldn't help it."
"A stripper," Rory said. "Yeah," Xander said as he poured a plastic bottle of gin down the drain. They were cleaning out the kitchen of the Harris house; it had been two weeks since the battle that had taken place here, and things had moved quickly. The beating Bridget Harris has received at the hands of her husband, Jack, had been thorough and almost debilitating; she was still in the hospital, healing from internal injuries. She was, however, well enough to initiate divorce proceedings from Jack, and to file a restraining order to keep him 500 feet away at all times. Of course, such orders were often less helpful than a lucky rabbit's foot, but in this case, it seemed to be working. Jack was under arrest for spousal abuse, aggravated assault, and several misdemeanors. The trial was a ways off, but the prosecuting attorney was using phrases like "slam dunk" and "open and shut." "You're working as a stripper." "Yeah," Xander replied. He tossed the bottle into one of the large bags of trash by the door and moved on to an elderly bottle of Bloody Mary mix. "Pays my bills, y'know?" "Well, uh...how are they dealing with your current, uh, condition?" "What, this?" Xander said, turning and indicating a still-healing cut in his forehead. The stitches were almost ready to come out. "No problem. They have me dancing to a song from Fight Club. You'd be surprised how many women are turned on by a guy who looks like he's been in a fight." "Huh." Rory tossed a small pile of newspapers into one of the bags. They were cleaning because, between hospital bills and legal bills, the Harris savings account was going to be wiped out. Rory had managed (through the judicious use of guilt) to convince his sister, Lillian, to take her in. Lillian was the best off of the Harris siblings; she had married a lawyer named Jim Reardon, and had a son, Rigby. "Yeah," Xander said as he poured out the next bottle. "Somethin' wrong, kid?" Rory asked. "Huh? No. Nothing." He tossed out the bottle and grabbed the next, a bottle of Peach Schnapps. "Just got something on my mind." The something on his mind was a possibility. Although the more he went over it in his mind, the slighter that possibility became. When she had first awakened after the attack, his mother had said some things...things that gave an indication that Jack Harris was not his father. And that Rory Harris was. It was stupid. Stupid! She wouldn't have lived all those years with Jack if she knew that there was another way...would she? And Rory wouldn't keep his mouth shut all this time...would he? Sure she would. Sure he would. These were the Harrises he was talking about. They were all lunatics. They were just one disembodied hand away from being The Addams Family. This was ridiculous, he told himself. There was an easy way to find out what he wanted to know; ask the question! It just never seemed to be the right time, though. There was too much going on, his mother's health, trying to sell the house...they were all tense, Rory more than anybody. This was much more responsibility than he was used to handling. Somehow, there was no casual way to ask "Hey, Rory! You and my mom ever do the happy dance?" "Hey..." Rory sniffed the air. "Is that the Schnapps?" "That's it." "Pour faster," Rory muttered. He had been dry for a few months now, but the smell of his favorite liquor touched at a hunger he wanted to deny. "Don't worry. That's the last of it." The Schnapps bottle joined its brothers in the trash. "So...is that it?" "I think so," Rory said. "The movers'll be here on Monday for the furniture and Brig's stuff, and then the cleaners..." He noticed a slight smile on Xander. "What?" "Nothin'. I just noticed the way you shortened her name. I, uh, I do the same thing with Will." "Uh...yeah, okay." Rory looked uncomfortable. "Anyway, the cleaners will be in after that...we'll get Bridget settled in at Lillian's, and then..." "And then you'll go back to Vegas." "Yep. Looks like." "Looks like," Xander repeated. He didn't have much time to get this figured out... God, look at me, he thought. Anya cheated on me, Rory might be my real father, and I'm involved in a love triangle with a lesbian. All I need is commercials and I'd be a soap opera.
They lay in blissful exhaustion, sweat covering their bodies, their hands still caressing one another. "You know," Tara said, gasping for air, "it's almost too hot for this." "I know," Willow replied. "I could use a drink, but that would probably involve getting up and putting on clothing of some kind..." "Well...not necessarily." Willow looked at Tara. Tara looked at Willow. "Nooooo no no no no no," Willow said. "Nuh-uh." "Why not?" "Because! Someone might...you know...see me!" "So?" "So....so, so, so bad!" Her tone was somewhere between amusement and panic. "Very bad for me to be seen naked by people that aren't you!" "Chicken," Tara said, smiling. "Oh, really," Willow said, raising an eyebrow. "Why don't you go traipsing downstairs in your altogether, then?" "Oh, I'm chicken too," Tara said, nodding sagely. "Well, so am I!" "Hmph." Tara rolled her eyes impatiently. "Don't 'hmph' me, you scaredy-cat person," Willow commented. "Well, we can't both be scaredy-cats." "Mmm. One of us has to go on down there." "Well, we could just put something on-" Tara started. "No," Willow said. "No, now it's a moral imperative. One of us is simply going to have to conquer her fears and go down there with no clothes on and get some drinks." "So how do we settle this?"
The creature scratched its haunches impatiently. It waited in the bushes surrounding the house's backyard, waiting for a sign of its quarry. It idly chewed a piece of paper. "Too hot for this," he muttered. Oh, stop complaining, said a voice only he could hear. She'll show herself soon enough. "I hope so. I have things I could be doing." You mean girls you could be doing. "I mean I could be doing things with girls." He scratched again. "Wish I was down at a pond right now. A nice, cool pond, with three plump nymphs." You'll be there soon. "Why you want her anyway?" Because, the voice said, her time is up.
Willow stood at the top of the stairs, her hands awkwardly covering what some might refer to as her naughty bits. "I still say paper beats scissors!" she called over her shoulder. "It does not!" Tara shouted from her room. "Scissors cuts paper! Everybody knows that!" "But paper covers scissors! You can't use the scissors if you can't find them!" "Get going!" Willow muttered something highly uncomplimentary under her breath and started walking. Despite the warmth, she was covered in goosebumps. On the whole, she wasn't big on nudity, except at showers. And bedtime, lately. She nearly stumbled on one of the steps and reached out to grab the banisters. Well, that was it. If anyone was watching, they had seen her in all her glory. She rolled her eyes. "In all her glory?" Where had that come from? She quickened her pace, hopping off the stairs and opening the door to the kitchen just a bit. No one was inside. Buffy was in Los Angeles, visiting her dad on his birthday (and probably looking over her shoulder every minute to make sure a certain undead private investigator was nowhere in sight), and Giles, on a most un-Gileslike impulse, had flown to London to see Olivia. And Xander- No. She did not want to think about Xander at the moment. Xander and nudity were already too closely linked in her mind. She stepped into the kitchen. A large picture window looked out onto the backyard; nothing there that she could see. She opened the refrigerator... She nearly moaned out loud as cold air spilled out, falling down her body and hitting the floor, mist pooling at her feet. It felt wonderful. She rummaged around, looking for drinks, and thought about why she did not want to think about Xander. She'd said it. She'd said the words. "I love you too." Later, in the hospital, after he'd come out of the emergency room all bandaged and stitched, she had tried to babble something about how they were just friends, and she loved Tara and she didn't want to jeopardize their relationship and...she couldn't. She'd said it all before. They had see little of each other in the past two weeks; when Xander wasn't working, he was off running some errand or another. Willow had launched herself into her relationship with Tara with renewed vigor; she loved Xander, but she also loved Tara, and she refused to break Tara's heart. This was going to become difficult very quickly. She found two cans of Coke and put them on the counter. She lingered in front of the open refrigerator, fanning herself with the cool air. Nudity had its advantages. She was about to call out to Tara and suggest they spend the rest of the day in front of the fridge when the kitchen door opened. All Xander could see was the open refrigerator door and a pair of bare feet. "Hey, Will. How ya doin'?" he asked. "Uh...fine," Willow said as casually as possible. "Cool. What's going on?" "Nothing!" She peeked out from behind the door; Xander was looking at the phone messages, not paying her any attention at all. "How come you're home so early?" "Oh, we're done. The house is all cleaned out. We tossed damn near everything in there...'cept for those magazines I found in Jack's closet. You know, might be worth something someday." "Uh huh." "Anyway, I think I'm gonna Bronze a little. You?" "Nnnnnno," Willow said casually. "I think we've got, you know, plans." "Plans. Right. Okay." He turned to go, then turned back. "Actually, I need a drink. Lemme just grab-" "Here!" Willow handed one of the Cokes around the door. "There you go!" "Actually, I was gonna get some milk." "Coke's better for you! Really! Much better for your...uh...teeth!" "Will, just let me-" He looked around the door... His brain immediately moved into overdrive. He made the logical leap from "Hey, Willow's nekkid!" to "Oh, crap, crazy naked woman sex is happening today!" to "Must memorize every last detail" in the space of nanoseconds. He took a one-count to stare, then snapped his head back. "Sorry! Sorry!" he said. "No, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I thought you were gonna--" "I didn't realize--" "See, I thought paper beat scissors--" "I should have told you--" "And the air was so cool and--" "God, you look good." "I was just about to-what?" "What? Me? Nothing. Uh..." He looked down at his T-shirt; it was dirty, but he hadn't sweated through it. He pulled it off and handed it around the door. "Do you want something to, uh..." There was a moment of quiet. Then, Willow reached out and took the shirt. He listened to the sound it made as it fell over her body. The door closed; she stood there, the shirt coming down to the middle of her thighs. She tugged at it awkwardly. They stood there for a moment, both half-naked, both trying not to look at each other, both failing. Finally, Xander broke the silence. "I'm, uh, gonna go." "You don't have to," Willow said. "No, I'm pretty sure I do," he replied. "So, y'know, don't worry. I won't be back anytime soon." "I'm sorry." "You didn't do anything." He took a step backward. "Gotta go. I'm pretty sure I've got a shirt in the car, so...uh....yeah." He almost ran. He had to get out, before he said something, before he did something to make everything more awkward than it already was. He dashed outside and hopped into his car. Willow went to the door, watching him as he backed out and drove away. She sighed, closed and locked the door. Sooner or later, she was going to hurt somebody. It was only a question of who. She reached down, her hands almost independent of her mind, took the hem of the shirt and lifted it over her head. She stood naked at the foot of the stairs and held the shirt near her face, breathing him in. Only a question of who. She put down the shirt, picked up the cans and walked upstairs. "Hey," Tara said when she walked in. "What was all that?" "Jehovah's Witnesses," Willow said, handing her a can. "Boy, were they surprised." She lay on her side next to Tara. "Wanna rest for a while?" Tara asked. "Yes," Willow whispered. She lay her head down on Tara's waiting arm, let herself be held close, let herself try to forget, let herself try to rest.
You and me were meant to be Walkin' free in harmony One fine day we'll fly away Don't you know that Rome wasn't built in a day? Hey hey hey The band on stage was called Morcheeba, and as they played the soul/funk/ hiphop/whatever tune, Xander made a mental note to pick up the CD. He sat at a table in the Bronze, wishing that he had a better fake ID. He didn't want to get buzzed on caffeine and sugar. He wanted beers. Many beers. He looked around at the dancers, smiles on their faces, digging the sound, digging each other. Happy people were really beginning to piss him off. It wasn't a healthy attitude, he knew that. The only thing that kept him from indulging in it was the fact that it was probably how his dad felt life in general. The song finished and the singer announced a five-minute break. He sighed and finished the last of the coffee. "Hey there." A hand on his shoulder. He turned; she was blonde, slim, pale. She reminded him of Gwyneth Paltrow for some reason. She smiled, her eyes sleepy. "You look a little depressed." "Yeah," he said. "Uh...have we met?" "No," Gwyneth said. "I just saw you from across the bar, and I wondered why such a handsome boy would look so sad." "Girl trouble," Xander replied. "Listen...my friends and I are having a party near the college, and we can always use some new people. D'you want to come?" "Sure, I..." He trailed off. Then he rolled his eyes. "Oh, man. Do I actually look this pathetic?" "What?" "I mean, sure, I'm bummed out, but I didn't realize I looked like vampire bait!" "Vam-" Her eyes widened. "What are you-" "Save it," Xander said. "It's all over your face. And your eyes. And that Charlie's Angels hairdo." He stood up. "Come on. Let's go fight." "I..." Gwyneth's face hardened. "And what makes you think you can defeat a vampire?" Xander reached down and removed a nine-inch stake that had been strapped to his leg. "I call him Ol' Painless," he said. Gwyneth blinked. Then she turn and ran. Xander took off in hot pursuit. Say what you will about the undead; they do take one's mind off things.
"No." "'Strue," Willow said. "I saw it at a Rho Alpha Tau party." "Whipped cream shots?!" "This girl took off her shirt, squirted some whipped cream on her, y'know, her nipples, and charged twenty bucks a pop to lick it off." "Really!" "Yep." She and Tara lay in the dark, a single candle--their candle-- serving as the only light. After waking up, Willow had done her best to recapture the mood. She'd done a pretty good job. At the moment, Tara had one arm slung over her and was tracing invisible patterns on her right buttock. "So..." Tara smiled wickedly. "D-did you take a shot?" "Of course not!" "It sounds like fun," Tara commented. "You know, I think we've got some whipped cream downstairs." Brief silence. "Uh....so..." "Ohhhh, no. It's your turn. I got the drinks." Tara sighed and got up. "You're sure the 'Jehovah's Witnesses' aren't coming back?" she asked, and Willow was surprised to hear jealousy in her voice. "Pretty sure, yes." "All right." Tara hopped off the bed, swept her hair back from her face. "Have fun," Willow said, watching her go.
Wake up. The creature snored heavily, the bushes almost swaying with the forces of it. Wake UP! "I pulled out, I swear!" it shouted as it came awake. It squinted, trying to get its bearings. "What the...what's happening?" She's near! The creature peered at the window. A pale, nude figure was illuminated in the light of the refrigerator. "So she is," the creature said. "Nice rump." Get moving!
Tara found the whipped cream can and ran it over her forehead. The sun was gone, but it hadn't taken the heat or the humidity with it. She shook the can, popped off the top, and looked down at herself...did you spray the whipped cream directly on, or onto your hand first, or- She saw the dark shape moments before the window smashed inward. She screamed in fright; she couldn't make it out in the dim light, but it couldn't be good. She reached into the fridge, grabbed the first heavy jar she could find, and hurled it. The creature caught it. "Miss Tara," it said. "You're wanted at home." "No," Tara whispered. The creature took a step closer into the light, and now she could see its goat legs, the thick fur, the belly... "NO!" Tara screamed. She sprayed the whipped cream where she guessed its eyes were; she grabbed more jars and threw them, driving the thing back. "Tara?" Willow cried out. She could hear her rushing down the stairs. "Stay away!" she screamed. "You're just prolonging it," the thing said, and now she could see a line open in mid-air. The creature traced it with his fingers, ripped it open, and a terrible white light filled the room. She could see it completely now. A set of pipes hung at its hip, where man became goat. It had two small horns and a short beard. Its face-his face-was not unkind as he reached out for her. "Come on now," he said. "Got to go." He grabbed her by the hand and began to drag her towards the light. She latched onto the refrigerator door, but he was so strong, she couldn't last for long... "Tara!" Willow screamed. She had pulled on the discarded T-shirt in anticipation of trouble; now she charged forward in Tara's defense, intent on knocking the satyr away... She tackled him, and to Tara's horror, they both fell into the light. "Willow!!" she shrieked as the hole in reality closed up behind them. Darkness reclaimed the room. She stood in the small shaft of light from the refrigerator, naked and shivering, and tried to figure out what to do.
What a day. What a night. He tried for the hundredth time to brush the last remaining pieces of Gwyneth off his shirt, but it was soaked through with sweat; nothing doing. He had chased the vampire so far, there was no point in going back for his car; It was a short walk back to the house. Back to the crazy naked woman sex house. With his luck, they'd be in the living room, performing erotic acts he had only seen in the magazines he'd swiped from his father's room. Always, of course, assuming he was his father...oh, forget it. Xander just wanted to get some sleep. When he opened the door, he immediately realized it wasn't going to happen. Tara, dressed in a long skirt and one of Willow's T-shirts, was sitting in the middle of a pentagram. "Oh,. Goddess Thespia, your daughter implores. Oh, Goddess Thespia, your daughter--" "Tara? What the hell's going on?" "Sshhh. Don't interrupt. Oh, Goddess Thespia, your daughter begs--" There was light coming from beneath the kitchen door. He opened it and found it a mass of shattered glass; the window was broken, jars and dishes were smashed. "Where's Willow?!" he cried. "Gone," Tara said. "Oh, Goddess Thespia-" "Gone? What d'you mean, gone?!" "I mean gone, Xander!" Tara yelled, standing and facing him. "Something...something came in here and took her, and now I have to go after her." "What took her?" "That doesn't matter." "The hell it doesn't!" "I'm going to get her back--" "Well, you're not going without me." "Xander, you don't--" "You're not going without me," Xander said. "I've got the situation under--" "You're. Not. Going. Without. Me." "Oh, damn it, all right! Sit down!" Tara reclaimed her seat. "And...and...I'm sorry. I'm scared." "Look...wherever we're going....we'll get her back, all right?" "Right," Tara said, looking determined. "Uh...where are we going?" "You'll see. Close your eyes. And think happy thoughts." "Right," Xander muttered, closing his eyes. "Oh, Goddess Thespia, your daughter begs. Oh, Goddess Thespia, your daughter implores. Oh, Goddess Thespia, your daughter needs you. Bring her home, oh, Goddess...uh, and Xander too. Bring us unto your bosom." "Sounds good," Xander murmured. "Ssshhh! Oh, Goddess, hear your daughter's plea. Oh, Goddess, hear your daughter's cry! Oh, Goddess, hear your daughter's wish!" There was a moment of quiet. Then there was a sudden flash of light. He wasn't sitting on the hardwood floor anymore; it felt like grass and earth. "Can I open my eyes yet?" "Yeah," Tara said. He opened his eyes. He was sitting on a wide green lawn, near an enormous set of stairs. The stairs reached up to what looked like an enormous temple...and beyond that, a palace. "Welcome," Tara said, "to Olympus."
All of this is copyright Joss Whedon, except the stuff that isn't.
