"The Price"
By Miss UK (edits/rewrites with Princess Plum Jade)
Chapter Five � Waking the Dead
�Not dead, nor not of the living. Spirits of the interregnum, I call. Restore to this corporal vessel that which separates us from beast. Use this orb as your guide...�
She woke beneath the earth. It was so dark, she couldn�t see a thing, then she realised her eyes were still closed. She opened her mouth to breathe and it immediately filled with soil. Panic gripped at her heart and she began to claw ferociously at the dirt encasing her. All sense and sensibility abandoned her as she desperately fought her way out of her tomb.
�I call on you, Gods! Do not ignore this supplication! Let the orb be the vessel to carry her soul to her!�
She burst through the mud into the fresh night, taking huge swallows of cold, clean air into her starving lungs. Her eyes blinked madly as she stared at her strange surroundings through her new vampiric eyes. Everything was glowing. Tara pulled her body from the shallow grave and stumbled, confused, straight into the waiting hands of Wesley Wyndham Pryce, former Watcher, and Cordelia Chase, former Cheerleader. They pinned her arms tight against her sides, as Willow Rosenberg sat chanting on the floor.
�It is written, this power is my people�s right to wield...�
Tara thrashed around wildly, trying to free herself. A forceful hunger had gripped her and she yearned for the taste of blood. The smell was all around her, driving her to the brink of insanity. She gnashed her teeth at the night sky and let forth a pitiful moan, as the monotonous garble of Willow�s spell filled her ears.
�Asa sa fie! Asa sa fie!� Let it be so!
Angel watched on from his upper storey window. His new creation craved what he had stolen from her. He could feel her pain and outrage, and would also swear blind that her accusing eyes were staring straight at him. They were wide open, blazing blue.
�ACUM!� NOW!
The window pane filled with a blinding, orange-tinted light, as the spell was completed, and silence swallowed the night.
Willow slumped forward on her crossed knees at the same time as Wesley, Cordelia and Tara were thrown backwards to alternate ends of the hotel grounds. The force of the spell drained psychic energy from each and every one of them.
Depleted, panting, Willow waited.
Angel slouched his way over to the small bed in the centre of his room, one of only two pieces of furniture that adorned the small abode. He sat heavily on the bed's edge and wept freely into his open hands. She was saved. But at what price?
Tara, slightly dazed, pulled herself to a sitting position on the cold, paved floor. She drank in her surroundings with a child�s wonder. When had night become so beautiful? She had always been a little afraid of the dark, but now she could not think why. The sky wasn�t as black as it appeared, in fact it was a dark velvety purple, so deep and rich, that yes it almost was black. Stars sparkled overhead like droplets of dew on the morning grass. Everything looked so alive.
Hesitantly, she climbed to her feet, certain she was in a dream. She had no memory of this place, and certainly no memory of how she came to be here. But there were whispers in her head, telling her this was all happening now and it was all very real. The cool breeze against her cheek reinforced this certainty, as did the hushed voices she could hear coming from somewhere ahead of her.
Taking small pigeon steps forward, she headed towards the voices, she felt as if she were walking on air. Lengthening her stride was exhilarating. Her body felt new and revitalised, nimble and strong, why, she felt she could fly if she willed it.
She examined her hands and arms and noticed the tiniest of details. Every vein and capillary beneath her skin was clearly visible, she could even see the blood coursing through her body, usually the very idea would have repulsed her, but now she was filled with a nearly erotic pleasure. This had to be a dream.
�Tara?� More voices. And footsteps. Someone was making their way towards her, but she couldn�t see anyone. Was that Willow? It sounded like her.
�Willow?� She called lightly, her sweet voice carrying from her body to ring pleasantly in her ears. She sighed happily. It was a spell. She and Willow must have engineered a spell to heighten their carnal experience; it wouldn�t be the first time. But no, this wasn�t a spell. Willow didn�t do that anymore, she promised. And besides, Tara had been born to magic, she would have known if she were living a spell.
The cracking branch of a nearby tree alerted Tara to her companion�s whereabouts, and it was of course Willow.
�Willow, what�s happening? Can you see it? Can you feel it?� Tara beamed with excitement, as she searched Willow�s face for an answer to this new experience. All she found was deepest sorrow.
�Will? What�s wrong?� Tara glided lightly over to her girlfriend and laid her hands gently on her shoulders. Willow looked guiltily up at her, as tears filled her eyes. To Tara she had never looked more beautiful.
�Tara, I�m so sorry.� The red-head broke down, burying her head into Tara�s shoulder.
�I didn�t know what else to do; you were going to leave me. I saved you. I saved you, baby. I saved you�. Her uncontrollable weeping sounded like a gentle waterfall to the newly sired vampiress, as she tried to comprehend just what could be so terrible, that it would reduce her brave Amazon to tears.
Before she had a chance to question her lover further, two more bodies appeared from behind the foliage. A tall, stunning, brunette, with long shapely legs and a perfect bow mouth. Beside her stood a ruggedly handsome, yet staid man, exuding intelligence. �He looks just like a young Mr Giles� she thought amusedly.
�Er..hey!� Said the brunette. Her voice a little too high-pitched to be natural, her smile a little too wide to be genuine. She was holding a wooden stake in her right hand with casual ease.
�Say, you wouldn�t happen to feel like biting her would ya?� the brunette asked in a sing-song tone, decidedly uncomfortable, as she gestured towards Willow with the carved stake.
�Cordelia.� The man this time. He was addressing the brunette, in a somewhat authorative way, and wonder of wonders he had an English accent! This of course added weight to her �younger Giles� theory and Tara couldn�t suppress her laughter.
�I fail to see what�s so amusing.� The Englishman continued gravely, so very Giles-like, that Tara could only laugh harder.
�Oh my god she�s crazy!� The beautiful brunette slapped her forehead with her free hand, as she half-turned towards the Englishman. �We made a new Drusilla!�
Drusilla? Did she say Drusilla? Now that name was familiar, and more than enough to end Tara�s brief giggling fit. She turned her eyes away from the odd couple before her and back to the weeping woman in her arms.
Willow�s hysterical sobbing frightened her and she struggled to remain calm. Cordelia gripped her stake expertly, her posture rigid with expectant tension. Obviously, there was a vampire threat. Where was Buffy? Had there already been an attack? Was the Slayer dead? That would explain why Willow was falling apart and the bloodstains on her shirt.
Tara glanced around anxiously. The evening was vividly clear, visible to her down to the smallest detail. If a vampire was near she was sure she�d see it.
Involuntarily Tara reached into the neckline of her shirt and drew out the antique cross she�d inherited from her mother. It was solid silver lovingly detailed with tiny rose branches twining over it. Tara stroked the pendant lightly with a fingertip and felt vaguely comforted.
A bizarre sound wrenched out of Cordelia, something between squeaking and strangling. Tara heard the stake she�d been gripping clatter onto the battered brick edging of a neglected flower bed and roll to a stop in the dry soil. Mr. I�d-Like-To-Be-Giles�s face hardened into a poker-blank unreadable mask, but his heartbeat and breathing accelerated so loudly and rapidly Tara feared he might suffer an heart attack any moment.
Tara turned back to Willow, wondering why she had gone so eerily silent. Her pretty girlfriend was a mess, her rich ginger hair tangled and tousled, and her large pretty eyes red-rimmed and swollen from weeping. But now her clear ivory skin seemed to drain and blanch, making the ruddy puffiness of her tearstained face even blotchier. Her expression was baffling, the mixture of grief and guilt, wonder and dread. Her slender lips flicked and trembled, struggling to form words.
Fierce hunger knotted Tara�s stomach and she winced. She couldn�t remember when she�d last eaten. She wished somebody would say something before Like-To-Be-Giles had an heart attack and she starved to death. Feeling hungry made her cranky.
�Willow?� Tara spoke softly and calmly. �What�s going on?�
�You don�t remember, do you?� The Englishman was cautiously making his way toward her.
�Remember what? Who are you people? Willow?� Tara turned her eyes alternately from Willow to the Englishman and back again.
�I�m Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, formerly of the Watcher�s Council and now head of Angel Investigations.� He managed to make the introduction sound terribly important. �This is my associate, Miss Chase.� He gestured to the brunette standing awkwardly behind him.
�You really don�t remember anything?� Wesley looked enquiringly at Tara, cocking his head to the side as he waited for her response.
Willow clung tighter to Tara, restricting her lungs; for the first time, Tara realised she wasn�t breathing. Again panic. She had been buried. She remembered now, clawing her way through the dirt. She had been so swept up in the beauty of the night, she had forgotten the horror she had awoken to.
�Am I dead?� The new vampire blurted out the question before it had fully formed in her mind, and before she was ready for an answer.
One came anyway.
�Yes�. At least it was a simple answer. And given by yet another new face, but this one she recognised. It was Buffy�s Angel, only he looked different now. Slightly more haggard. His shoulders bore a slump she had never witnessed before, and at the same time she had never seen such a perfect creature. His alabaster skin glistened in the starlight, and the desperate look of sorrow in his eyes held an endearing quality she longed to possess. Men had never interested Tara. Not even in high school. She had always been attracted to the delicate feminine beauty held by her own sex, but the power contained in this man was overwhelming.
She gently pushed Willow from her shoulder, as she continued to sob and reiterate how she�d saved her. As if walking on air, she floated gracefully towards her maker, never even glancing at them when Wesley and Cordelia cleared the way between them.
Angel stood in the doorway to the hotel, leaning against the frame. His eyes were downcast, shame keeping his gaze from the newly sired vampire. His new childe.
She is so beautiful, kind and perfect.
�Tell me,� she said simply. And on command, Angel relayed the tale of her creation.
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Chapter Six
"The Price" Contents
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