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snoggedTitle: Holding Her Own (4/10)
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Angelus, Willow/Tara, Willow/Angel (friendship)
Word Count: 1917
Overall Rating/Highlight for Warnings: FRAO/NC-17; *angst/dark themes, character death, drug use, crude language (including sexual swearing) violence, sex*
Setting: Set Post-Season 5 of BtVS/Season 2 of AtS.
Summary: Still struggling with Buffy's death, Willow gets an unexpected visitor that brings a whole new set of problems to Sunnydale.
Beta: the unmistakable![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
velvetwhip and angelskuuipo. All other mistakes are mine.
A/N: Several years ago, I started a WIP that never went further than the first chapter. This is my attempt to fix that. Enjoy!
A/N 2: This story is completed and chapters will be posted weekly.
Previous Chapters
Featuring brand-new artwork byrua1412
As she memorized the glowing location she saw on the map, Willow couldn’t help but feel a giddy rush flood her body. Of all the spells and tricks that she had tried over the last few years, this one made her the happiest because it meant that Tara would be back in her arms soon and that her promise to keep Dawn safe would not go unfulfilled.
She was going to get them back.
The buzzer from the washing machine sounded loudly in her ears, piercing through her elated high, reminding her to finish what she had started. But there was no way she could bother with laundry now, not after having found out where Tara and Dawn were . Besides, did she really want to crawl under covers stained with the cruel reminders Angelus had left behind for her? It was way better to just buy new ones.
With Tara’s return trumping all other thoughts, Willow got to her feet and headed towards the front door. It was a balmy eighty-two degrees tonight so a sweater wasn’t necessary, but she pulled the closet door open anyway. Tucked into a shoebox on the top shelf of the closet were a cross, a vial of holy water, and a pencil. She grabbed each item and made a snap decision about the best place to hide each one on her person. The pencil went into her hair like a chopstick and the cross and vial went into the elastic waistband of her long skirt, which unfortunately had no pockets. She adjusted her shirt to hide the bulges and took a steadying breath as her hand closed around the knob.
She opened up the front door, immediately feeling a light breeze tickle her cheeks. But before she could place her right foot on the front stoop, her friendly, neighborhood robot said: “Would you like a milkshake, Willow? I made them myself.”
Willow turned her head to look at the Buffybot and see what was being offered to her. The simulated girl was holding a neon green plastic bottle that displayed the Six Flags Magic Mountain logo and it was heaping with melting ice cream. The bottle was one of the souvenir ones that you could buy if you were willing to chug 48 ounces of Cola and spend all day in the bathroom instead of riding roller coasters. Judging by the faded lettering, Willow figured the trip happened years ago and the bottle had probably been purchased at Dawn’s insistence.
“I would love one, but I think we should wait until Dawn gets home. Maybe you should put them in the freezer so they don’t turn into soup?”
The Buffybot pursed her lips, contemplating Willow’s suggestion. After a minute, her perky smile returned. “Of course. I know that Dawn likes chicken noodle soup. Should I make her some?”
“The shakes will be just fine,” Willow said, reassuringly. “Just put them in the freezer and they’ll be good to go when she arrives.”
“Okay,” replied the Buffybot. But instead of going back into the kitchen, she continued watch Willow with wide, doe-like eyes. “Are you going somewhere?”
“I’m going to go pick up Tara and Dawn.” It was close enough to the truth, anyways.
“That’s very nice of you, Willow. Would you like me to come with? I can slay vampires.”
“Not tonight,” Willow said, quickly. It was probably too quickly, but thankfully the Buffybot didn’t notice the slight edge in Willow’s tone. “You already did a good job slaying so you need rest now.”
“You’re right. Be safe, Willow.”
“I will,” Willow promised, patting her hips, ensuring that neither the vial nor the cross had slipped down her leg. Once she was satisfied that everything was still in place, she headed down the front steps and into the gleaming shine of the street lamps.
Tara was coming home.
****
The still glowing map provided her with the directions she needed, but as she continued to put one foot in front of other, she had a sudden flash of rational logic. What if this was a suicide mission? She figured they had to be with Angelus, considering the taunts from earlier, and he was a world class sociopath. But then another thought struck her. She had done this exact brand of rash/crazy before, and she had done it for Tara. Less than two months ago, she had walked into Glory’s den, armed with the darkest magic she could find, and she had walked out of there with her heart still beating…barely…with Buffy’s help.
Shit.
She paused, her heart sinking slightly in her chest. Could she do this without Buffy? Could she go into an unknown place to save Tara and Dawn without some sort of back-up?
Her breath hitched and her hands curled into tight fists at her sides. She couldn’t back down now. Not when she was this close. Not when she could almost smell the sweet scent of Tara’s honeysuckle and white patchouli shampoo. Decidedly, her magic was strong enough that she could hold her own and she was ready to introduce Angelus to her specially patented brand of pain.
Picking up the pace, she turned right down the next sidewalk and found herself standing in front of a mansion covered by vines and other greenery. It was difficult to say what the building actually looked like underneath the foliage. For all she knew it was the exact same place where Angelus had hatched his plan to unleash Acathla and destroy the world. But the sheer mass of overgrowth made her doubt that.
Grateful for the patches of light provided by the half moon and the street lamps, Willow steeled her nerves and carefully started navigating her way through the leaves. In a weird way it reminded her of the trip she had gone on with Xander when they were in the third grade. Ira and Sheila took them both to the Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park and she and Xander had impishly run off the trail in search of amazing adventure. What they had found was a mess of poison oak and woody trees. The red splotches had covered her skin for weeks and they had itched something awful, but never once did she blame Xander for convincing her to do it.
Now, she had no one but herself to blame if this went wrong.
After a few minutes of searching through the brush, she found a crudely carved wooden door that was cracked open slightly. Not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, she slowly pushed the door open, silently praying that it wouldn’t creak or squeak or make any other noise that would alert those living here. Her prayer worked and she slipped inside. She had never considered herself to be much like a ninja, but she felt stealthy and cat-like as she slinked across the damp, stone floor in silence. If only she knew where to go from here…
As if the house knew what she wanted, she found an opening in the wall. There was no door. There was just a thick, pleated light brown curtain that looked almost copper in the dim light. Unable to peer through it and see what lay behind, Willow took a deep breath and maneuvered her body around the edge of it where she soon discovered a gorgeous living room filled with ornately designed chairs and a red velvet divan in the far corner that was topped with more pillows than she had ever seen in one place.
That’s when she heard it. It was a whimper, no louder than a mouse’s squeak, and it was coming from that corner of the room as if the pillows themselves were making the sound. Cautiously, she took several steps forward and her hand reached towards the pillows, fingertips just brushing over the surface. She expected them to be flimsy but solid, like most sofa pillows. Instead, she found her fingers being sucked inside of them like it was tar or quicksand. It reminded her of a spell she had used once before. The one she had been most successful in using against Glory. Only…this was darker, stronger, and more brutal in its execution.
She could feel the raw, angry magic pulsing against her tendons, against her bones. It felt like acid trying to eat through her flesh. Before it could do serious damage, she fought back, focusing on her own energies and knowledge to release her hand. The pillows made a loud slurping noise in response, and then they settled back into the illusion that they were normal, everyday household decorations. This was definitely not Angelus’s brand of handy work. He must have someone working for him…someone powerful…
As if on cue, she heard a low, almost drunken-sounding moan that sent a cold chill down her spine. “Come to see my tower, pretty girl?”
Willow turned her head to look at him and felt a roll of nausea flood her stomach. He was easily the ugliest man she had ever laid eyes on and he reminded her heavily of the crack dealers that were featured on the evening news. His brown hair was greasy and stringy, his eyes were oily black, his cheeks and lips were sallow, and he was wearing a white, ribbed tank top and a pair of holey blue jeans.
Before she could say anything, his presence crowded into her space and his bony hands fell onto her shoulders. “I smell power on you, baby. Sweet like strawberries with just a hint of ripe plum wickedness. Just like he promised.”
Willow processed the creepy man’s words, realizing that her presence had been very much expected and she could only name one Big Bad who would feel that way about her.
“Angelus.”
Her guess was rewarded with the appearance of the very vampire she feared.
“I’ve been waiting for you, baby. Waiting for you to come track me down and punish me for being such a bad boy.” He leered at her, closing the gap between them. While she didn’t really want to thank him for anything, she was glad about the fact that each step he took towards her sent the creepy guy one step backwards. “You’ve got some pretty nasty parlor tricks, Willow, and that does not amuse so I went out and found myself a new friend that’s got himself quite a business in this town. Bit of a magic specialist with a taste for power junkies.”
“He looks like a real keeper,” Willow replied hastily. “I’m sure you two haven’t known each other long so how ‘bout you two get acquainted, exchange phone numbers and the like, and I’ll just mosey on out of here…”
“Tsk. Tsk,” Angelus said, shaking his finger at her like she was a small child in trouble. “I have something of yours and I know you want it back. If you want to see your girlfriend and the Slayer’s stupid little sister again, then I suggest you start doing what we say.”
“Um…” Willow said, furrowing her brow and forcing her brain to think of some kind of clever escape route.
Before she could, however, Angelus’s new “friend” started muttering something in Latin, and she felt her feet lose contact with the ground. The creepy sorcerer took a seat on the divan, sinking into the flesh-eating pillows and slowly began drawing circles in the air with his finger.
And then she started to spin like a top…
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Angelus, Willow/Tara, Willow/Angel (friendship)
Word Count: 1917
Overall Rating/Highlight for Warnings: FRAO/NC-17; *angst/dark themes, character death, drug use, crude language (including sexual swearing) violence, sex*
Setting: Set Post-Season 5 of BtVS/Season 2 of AtS.
Summary: Still struggling with Buffy's death, Willow gets an unexpected visitor that brings a whole new set of problems to Sunnydale.
Beta: the unmistakable
velvetwhip and angelskuuipo. All other mistakes are mine.A/N: Several years ago, I started a WIP that never went further than the first chapter. This is my attempt to fix that. Enjoy!
A/N 2: This story is completed and chapters will be posted weekly.
Previous Chapters
Featuring brand-new artwork by
rua1412As she memorized the glowing location she saw on the map, Willow couldn’t help but feel a giddy rush flood her body. Of all the spells and tricks that she had tried over the last few years, this one made her the happiest because it meant that Tara would be back in her arms soon and that her promise to keep Dawn safe would not go unfulfilled.
She was going to get them back.
The buzzer from the washing machine sounded loudly in her ears, piercing through her elated high, reminding her to finish what she had started. But there was no way she could bother with laundry now, not after having found out where Tara and Dawn were . Besides, did she really want to crawl under covers stained with the cruel reminders Angelus had left behind for her? It was way better to just buy new ones.
With Tara’s return trumping all other thoughts, Willow got to her feet and headed towards the front door. It was a balmy eighty-two degrees tonight so a sweater wasn’t necessary, but she pulled the closet door open anyway. Tucked into a shoebox on the top shelf of the closet were a cross, a vial of holy water, and a pencil. She grabbed each item and made a snap decision about the best place to hide each one on her person. The pencil went into her hair like a chopstick and the cross and vial went into the elastic waistband of her long skirt, which unfortunately had no pockets. She adjusted her shirt to hide the bulges and took a steadying breath as her hand closed around the knob.
She opened up the front door, immediately feeling a light breeze tickle her cheeks. But before she could place her right foot on the front stoop, her friendly, neighborhood robot said: “Would you like a milkshake, Willow? I made them myself.”
Willow turned her head to look at the Buffybot and see what was being offered to her. The simulated girl was holding a neon green plastic bottle that displayed the Six Flags Magic Mountain logo and it was heaping with melting ice cream. The bottle was one of the souvenir ones that you could buy if you were willing to chug 48 ounces of Cola and spend all day in the bathroom instead of riding roller coasters. Judging by the faded lettering, Willow figured the trip happened years ago and the bottle had probably been purchased at Dawn’s insistence.
“I would love one, but I think we should wait until Dawn gets home. Maybe you should put them in the freezer so they don’t turn into soup?”
The Buffybot pursed her lips, contemplating Willow’s suggestion. After a minute, her perky smile returned. “Of course. I know that Dawn likes chicken noodle soup. Should I make her some?”
“The shakes will be just fine,” Willow said, reassuringly. “Just put them in the freezer and they’ll be good to go when she arrives.”
“Okay,” replied the Buffybot. But instead of going back into the kitchen, she continued watch Willow with wide, doe-like eyes. “Are you going somewhere?”
“I’m going to go pick up Tara and Dawn.” It was close enough to the truth, anyways.
“That’s very nice of you, Willow. Would you like me to come with? I can slay vampires.”
“Not tonight,” Willow said, quickly. It was probably too quickly, but thankfully the Buffybot didn’t notice the slight edge in Willow’s tone. “You already did a good job slaying so you need rest now.”
“You’re right. Be safe, Willow.”
“I will,” Willow promised, patting her hips, ensuring that neither the vial nor the cross had slipped down her leg. Once she was satisfied that everything was still in place, she headed down the front steps and into the gleaming shine of the street lamps.
Tara was coming home.
****
The still glowing map provided her with the directions she needed, but as she continued to put one foot in front of other, she had a sudden flash of rational logic. What if this was a suicide mission? She figured they had to be with Angelus, considering the taunts from earlier, and he was a world class sociopath. But then another thought struck her. She had done this exact brand of rash/crazy before, and she had done it for Tara. Less than two months ago, she had walked into Glory’s den, armed with the darkest magic she could find, and she had walked out of there with her heart still beating…barely…with Buffy’s help.
Shit.
She paused, her heart sinking slightly in her chest. Could she do this without Buffy? Could she go into an unknown place to save Tara and Dawn without some sort of back-up?
Her breath hitched and her hands curled into tight fists at her sides. She couldn’t back down now. Not when she was this close. Not when she could almost smell the sweet scent of Tara’s honeysuckle and white patchouli shampoo. Decidedly, her magic was strong enough that she could hold her own and she was ready to introduce Angelus to her specially patented brand of pain.
Picking up the pace, she turned right down the next sidewalk and found herself standing in front of a mansion covered by vines and other greenery. It was difficult to say what the building actually looked like underneath the foliage. For all she knew it was the exact same place where Angelus had hatched his plan to unleash Acathla and destroy the world. But the sheer mass of overgrowth made her doubt that.
Grateful for the patches of light provided by the half moon and the street lamps, Willow steeled her nerves and carefully started navigating her way through the leaves. In a weird way it reminded her of the trip she had gone on with Xander when they were in the third grade. Ira and Sheila took them both to the Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park and she and Xander had impishly run off the trail in search of amazing adventure. What they had found was a mess of poison oak and woody trees. The red splotches had covered her skin for weeks and they had itched something awful, but never once did she blame Xander for convincing her to do it.
Now, she had no one but herself to blame if this went wrong.
After a few minutes of searching through the brush, she found a crudely carved wooden door that was cracked open slightly. Not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, she slowly pushed the door open, silently praying that it wouldn’t creak or squeak or make any other noise that would alert those living here. Her prayer worked and she slipped inside. She had never considered herself to be much like a ninja, but she felt stealthy and cat-like as she slinked across the damp, stone floor in silence. If only she knew where to go from here…
As if the house knew what she wanted, she found an opening in the wall. There was no door. There was just a thick, pleated light brown curtain that looked almost copper in the dim light. Unable to peer through it and see what lay behind, Willow took a deep breath and maneuvered her body around the edge of it where she soon discovered a gorgeous living room filled with ornately designed chairs and a red velvet divan in the far corner that was topped with more pillows than she had ever seen in one place.
That’s when she heard it. It was a whimper, no louder than a mouse’s squeak, and it was coming from that corner of the room as if the pillows themselves were making the sound. Cautiously, she took several steps forward and her hand reached towards the pillows, fingertips just brushing over the surface. She expected them to be flimsy but solid, like most sofa pillows. Instead, she found her fingers being sucked inside of them like it was tar or quicksand. It reminded her of a spell she had used once before. The one she had been most successful in using against Glory. Only…this was darker, stronger, and more brutal in its execution.
She could feel the raw, angry magic pulsing against her tendons, against her bones. It felt like acid trying to eat through her flesh. Before it could do serious damage, she fought back, focusing on her own energies and knowledge to release her hand. The pillows made a loud slurping noise in response, and then they settled back into the illusion that they were normal, everyday household decorations. This was definitely not Angelus’s brand of handy work. He must have someone working for him…someone powerful…
As if on cue, she heard a low, almost drunken-sounding moan that sent a cold chill down her spine. “Come to see my tower, pretty girl?”
Willow turned her head to look at him and felt a roll of nausea flood her stomach. He was easily the ugliest man she had ever laid eyes on and he reminded her heavily of the crack dealers that were featured on the evening news. His brown hair was greasy and stringy, his eyes were oily black, his cheeks and lips were sallow, and he was wearing a white, ribbed tank top and a pair of holey blue jeans.
Before she could say anything, his presence crowded into her space and his bony hands fell onto her shoulders. “I smell power on you, baby. Sweet like strawberries with just a hint of ripe plum wickedness. Just like he promised.”
Willow processed the creepy man’s words, realizing that her presence had been very much expected and she could only name one Big Bad who would feel that way about her.
“Angelus.”
Her guess was rewarded with the appearance of the very vampire she feared.
“I’ve been waiting for you, baby. Waiting for you to come track me down and punish me for being such a bad boy.” He leered at her, closing the gap between them. While she didn’t really want to thank him for anything, she was glad about the fact that each step he took towards her sent the creepy guy one step backwards. “You’ve got some pretty nasty parlor tricks, Willow, and that does not amuse so I went out and found myself a new friend that’s got himself quite a business in this town. Bit of a magic specialist with a taste for power junkies.”
“He looks like a real keeper,” Willow replied hastily. “I’m sure you two haven’t known each other long so how ‘bout you two get acquainted, exchange phone numbers and the like, and I’ll just mosey on out of here…”
“Tsk. Tsk,” Angelus said, shaking his finger at her like she was a small child in trouble. “I have something of yours and I know you want it back. If you want to see your girlfriend and the Slayer’s stupid little sister again, then I suggest you start doing what we say.”
“Um…” Willow said, furrowing her brow and forcing her brain to think of some kind of clever escape route.
Before she could, however, Angelus’s new “friend” started muttering something in Latin, and she felt her feet lose contact with the ground. The creepy sorcerer took a seat on the divan, sinking into the flesh-eating pillows and slowly began drawing circles in the air with his finger.
And then she started to spin like a top…
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2010-11-12 12:03 am (UTC)She's going after Tara alone? What is she, and idiot? I'm glad she at least has some doubts about it.
she found a crudely carved wooden door that was cracked open slightly Oh, come on! Like that doesn't scream "trap"!
*squee!* Lovely cliffhanger.
no subject
on 2010-11-12 02:41 pm (UTC)Glad you appreciated the cliffhanger.