�Tara? Baby? Oh no! OOOOOOOHHH NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!�
Cradling the near-lifeless body to her breast, the witch slowly began to rock back and forth. Tears of frustration and pure rage streamed down her cheeks and fell on the soon-to-be corpse of her lover.
Her mind was a rampant fog of confusion. She couldn�t let her die. Not like this. Not now. The perfume of their latest coupling still hung in the air, along with the fragrance of cordite and the stench of blood. Time was against them and she had to move fast. Her awakened senses were acutely tuned to the slowing heartbeat of her partner and the shallow breaths that slid through her lungs.
�Hold on baby, I�ve got you.� She barely whispered, as if she were speaking to a sleeping infant, rather than her dying lover.
She took a deep breath, filling herself with the mingled scents of love and tragedy, and tried to clear her thoughts. Closing her eyes, she opened her mind and searched through the dwindling afternoon for an answer.
Spike was the first to call out to her, his mind an open book. He was about to embark on a journey of his own and would be of no use to the witch now.
Buffy came next. Slow, but steady, in terrible pain. She would live. But the Slayer wouldn�t help her, maybe couldn�t. Her service to mankind involved death and destruction, things the white-faced red-headed witch intended to defy.
The stream of players continued as the witch ravaged minds, seeking an accomplice, and all the while the hand of Death crept closer to the woman she loved.
Finally he came to her. An Angel.
Refraining from magic had had its advantages. The power boiling inside her now was raw and potent, desperate to be unleashed. She concentrated this energy with that of her dying lover�s, closing her eyes as she focused on her target, pinpointing the precise location with her mind. She held the cold, rapidly depleting body of her mistress tighter, as she began the incantation which would save her and damn them both.
Nonsensical mumblings passed the red-head�s lips, as the fabric of time began to shift. Swirls of colour bled together, forming a darker shade of black, while storm like winds whipped into a frenzy, transporting both the wiccan and her weakened companion to their final destination. To the naked eye, this transfusion of space was instantaneous. Only the slightest shimmer -not unlike the view seen on hot tarmac during high summer � betrayed their passing.
The teleportation was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Time seemed to stand still as she was lifted out of herself and carried across the winds. She could see clearly all that lay below them, as she carried her sweetheart in stricken hands on their flight of salvation. Doubt struck her momentarily as she spied the body of another loved one held in the arms of her greatest childhood friend. Her mind lingered with the scene a while.
Buffy Summers lay spread-eagled on her lawn, with Xander Harris kneeling beside her. She could see he was screaming for help, but the words did not reach her ears. Blood had began to create a beautific pattern across Buffy�s chest, the wound was deep and perhaps fatal. But the witch knew she would live. She had slayer strength. The woman in her arms did not.
Again, the witch closed her eyes, as she continued to soar through space at an alarming rate. It was mere seconds before she touched down on solid ground, returning to herself . It felt like a lifetime.
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Chapter 2
"The Price" Contents