Pretty

Author: Love’s Bitch, a.k.a. Kristin L. M.
Feedback: Better than drugs! Will you help feed my addiction? Email: miserychastain@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: Credit where credit is due, Joss is God, Grrrr Argh, etc. I only wish Spike were mine.
Summary: A serial killer makes a stop in Sunnydale and nothing will ever be the same for the gang. **WARNING**: Character death. Spoilers: Takes place after Blood Ties. Rated: Probably R, for graphic and disturbing depiction of torture.
Distribution: If you like it that much, you are my new best friend! Just let me know where it’s going.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Richess, for giving me an idea to run with. Thanks to Dean Koontz for the inspirational Whispers. Thanks to Hilsy, Py, and Lady Mac for their constant vigilance in the beta department.

‘Willow will love this,’ Tara thought as she exited the Chinese take-out place on her way home. She was late meeting the redhead, but the surprise dinner would surely make up for it. Satisfied with herself and excited to give her little gift to Willow, Tara didn’t even notice the man standing directly in front of her, until she ran into him. “Oh, excuse me,” she said, barely looking up.

She was torn from her quiet reverie when the man clamped his hand roughly on her arm, forcing her to drop her bag. “There you are, pretty.” The blonde witch looked up, terrified, her eyes meeting two blank voids. “You thought you’d get away this time, didn’t you?” A fist came out of nowhere, and Tara’s world went black.

Now Tara was over an hour late and Willow was getting worried. Not that the shy blonde was ever right on time, but this was pushing it, especially without a call. Willow had the news on, but she wasn’t really watching. Each of the stories flashed before her, but Willow kept looking over her shoulder at the door, waiting for her love to come through it with some excuse for her delay.

Willow was facing the door when the next news story seized her attention.

“And now our top story. Tonight in Los Angeles, the body of 17-year-old Vicki Patton was found in room 217 of the Days Inn. You may recall that she was taken from outside her home in San Francisco only 12 days ago. The state of the body suggests that this is the third murder by the so-called Seattle Skinner. The three girls have all been about the same height and size, with straight blonde hair and light eyes. Ms. Patton was by far the youngest of the three, as the other two, Mara Russell and Katherine Tyler, were both in their early twenties. The police and FBI believe that he is headed south and may try to pick up his next victim within the next few days. All women between the ages of 17 and 24 with straight, blonde hair are implored to stay inside, or in groups, if you must go out. The reward for information leading to the capture of the man responsible for these deaths is at $50,000. Any information should be directed to the Seattle FBI.”

The woman rattled off a number to call and mentioned an address for sympathies. At this point Willow was frantic. This psycho was headed straight for them and Tara was nowhere to be found. She picked up the phone and dialed Buffy’s number.

“Hello?”

“Buffy, its me. Something’s wrong; I can’t find Tara.”

“Will, calm down. Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing happened!” Willow was yelling now, but she couldn’t help it. She’d tried calling Tara’s room, and she’d called the Magic Shop, but no one had seen her since about eight. “That’s the problem, she’s an hour and a half late and no one has seen her!”

“I’m sure she’s just held up somewhere, Will; give her some time.” Buffy thought that her friend was overreacting, but after what she said next, the Slayer began to wonder herself.

“Buffy, did you see the news tonight?”

“Yeah, so?”

“The serial killer, where is he heading?”

“South from L.A., so this way.”

“What type of girl is he taking?”

“Blondes, our age, light…eyes…oh, Willow, I’m on my way.”

Tara felt the pain first. Her head was throbbing and she was fairly sure her nose was broken. Her head lolled to one side and she slowly opened her eyes, the glaring light sending another bout of shooting pain to her head. From what she could gather, she was tied to a chair with a light in her face. ‘So much for thinking my way out of this,’ she tried to look around, but saw nothing in the room besides her and the light. The blonde witch couldn’t turn her head completely, no matter how much she struggled. Suddenly there was an emotionless, raspy, voice behind her, in her ear, and it made her skin crawl.

“Ah, you’re awake. I’ve been waiting for you, pretty. You thought you’d gotten away. You won’t this time. This time…” Tara cringed as she felt his sour breath against her neck. “This time, you’ll stay dead.”

“Will, we’ve been walking around for hours; she’s not here. All the shops are closed; we can’t ask anyone if they’ve seen her. Lets go to the police.” They had searched the streets of Sunnydale and found nothing, periodically calling both Willow and Tara’s rooms in case she’d gone there.

“Oh, Goddess…what if she’s…I mean what if he really took her?”

The look on Willow’s face tore Buffy apart. She looked terrified. “It’s okay; we’ll find her. We’ll go to the police and tell them what’s going on and then we’ll look for her ourselves. We’ll find her. I promise.” She hated to promise something she wasn’t sure she could deliver, but she hated the look on her friend’s face even more.

The two girls went straight to the police headquarters and filed a missing persons report. They tried to impress upon the cops that it was possible the Skinner had taken Tara, but they only smiled and said that Tara would probably turn up on her own.

On their way out of the police station, twenty minutes later, Buffy started to wonder if maybe the cops were right and they had overreacted. “You know, Wills, it’s possible she’s just off somewhere, needing to be alone. Why don’t we take you home, you can get some rest. This will all look better in the morning.”

“You’re right, Buffy,” Willow started, sarcasm evident in her voice. “It’ll seem so much better in the morning that my girlfriend was taken by a psycho who skins his victims and takes their hearts.”

The redhead walked swiftly away from Buffy in the direction of the park, and the Slayer debated on whether or not to follow her. Deciding that Willow just needed to blow off some steam, but not trusting Sunnydale in the middle of the night, Buffy let her walk away, then followed, keeping a good distance. Just in case.

Three knocks came at Spike’s crypt door, while he sat listening to loud punk music. ‘No one knocks...’ he thought, confused. The vampire walked over to the door, opening it on a very nervous looking Willow. He smirked.

“Red, how good of you to stop by. Buffy too busy to order me around, or is this a social call?” He wagged his eyebrows at her suggestively, but noting her extremely worried look, he changed his tone, becoming serious. “What is it, love? Is the Slayer okay?”

“Buffy’s fine. It’s Tara; I can’t find her. Buffy and I, we searched everywhere, we talked to the cops and no one will do anything. I need your help.” She looked at him pleadingly, but worried he would say no, she continued. “I knew you’d be awake, and with your heightened senses, you could maybe, I don’t know, smell her out or something? You can do that, right?”

“Look, love, I’m sure she’ll turn up-”

“I swear to God, Spike, if you say it will look better in the morning I will stake you.” Her demeanor had changed drastically and he saw that her jaw was set and her eyes were glowing with anger. Spike took one look and changed his mind.

“Right then, let me get my coat.”

They set out, the vampire and the witch, walking over the streets that Willow had already searched once that night. After about a half hour, they stopped in front of a Chinese take-out place, and Spike looked as though he was thinking very hard.

“What is it?”

“She was here, I think…her scent’s faint, but it’s here.”

“Can you track it?”

Spike looked at her, a little irritated. “I’m not a bloody hound, Red.”

Willow had enough sense to look ashamed, but continued. “I’m sorry, but I have to find her. I start to think maybe I overreacted, but then I think about what that awful man has done and I just…” her voice became weak, and she looked at Spike with eyes full of unshed tears. “I just have to find her.”

Spike thought for a second about what he would do to get Buffy back in the same situation, and nodded. “I understand, pet. Let’s get to sniffing.” Taking a big whiff, he very slowly tracked Tara’s scent to the Magic Shop.

“She must have stopped for the Chinese on her way home from the Magic Shop.” Willow was thinking out loud, trying to play Sherlock Holmes.

Spike had an idea and hit himself in the forehead for not thinking of it before. “Uh, Willow.”

“Shhh, Spike, I’m thinking.”

“Evidently not hard enough, Red.”

“What are you mumbling about?”

“Well let’s do the math, shall we? Witch plus Magic Shop plus missing girlfriend equals…” He waited as she realized the one thing she hadn’t tried.

“Locator spell. Duh, Willow.” She smiled sheepishly at Spike. “Thanks. Hey, can you get us into the shop?”

Spike puffed up proudly. “Why, yes, I can.”

Buffy watched as Spike broke into the Magic Shop with Willow right behind him. She felt a little hurt that Willow had gone to him for help, but understood her reasons. He could sense people pretty well and could actually be of assistance every once in awhile. She kinda felt like she’d let Willow down, though, because she hadn’t really believed Tara had been kidnapped. Deciding the redhead was safe with Spike, she left to get some sleep so she could start keeping her promise to Willow. She was now determined to find Tara.

Tara was crying. She didn’t know when she’d started crying, or which of the man’s knives had brought the tears. She only knew that this man was hurting her because he believed she was someone that she wasn’t. Any attempt to tell him this was met with more bruises and cuts, so the blonde witch had stopped trying to convince him. He had drugged her, making her movements and her thoughts sluggish, which also meant she couldn’t concentrate long enough or hard enough for any kind of spell. She’d tried to do a few to throw him across the room and to paralyze him, but nothing seemed to work. ‘Willow, where are you?’

She couldn’t tell what time it was or where they were, mostly because she kept passing out, from pain or from the drugs. Every time she woke up she was in a different position, so he could reach different parts of her skin. Right now, she was on her stomach and he had ripped her shirt down the back. She also seemed to be in a different room every time she woke up. Tara didn’t know if this meant a different room in the building they were in or a different building all together.

“What’s wrong, pretty? Don’t cry…I’m trying to help.” The kind of helping he was referring to, Tara realized dimly, was putting alcohol on the already opened wounds. He evidently didn’t want her dead. Yet. All thoughts ceased when he emptied the bottle of alcohol on a large gash across her back.

Willow had chosen a new type of locator spell, one she hadn’t tried before, hoping to steer clear of her past track record. With one that hadn’t worked at all, when she was looking for Adam and another that had tried to attack her while looking for Oz last Halloween, she figured new was better.

“Situati Tara!” Spike watched as the witch performed the spell, turning a small square on the Magic Shop floor into a map of Sunnydale. There was a faint line of fog from where the shop was to where the take-out place was, then it lead off the map completely. “See! There! You were right, she’d been at the restaurant, but then the line goes out of town. I’m guessing not of her own volition.”

Impressed with Willow’s abilities, Spike was glad he’d been able to help. “Well, listen Red, as much fun as this has been, and I’m glad we have a start on your witch’s position, but honestly, you aren’t going to get anything done tonight. Get some rest, call your Slayer, and tomorrow we’ll go find her.”

Willow looked up at Spike, a little surprised. “We? You’d go with us? To help, I mean?”

“Well, yeah, you know, in the name of love and all that,” he was uncomfortable under her gaze and felt a little silly for being so bashful all of a sudden. “If it’s this monster you think it is…well, maybe I can help. And I can drive.” Plus he’d get some time with Buffy.

“Okay, then. We’ll leave from here at sundown tomorrow. Or rather, today.” She smiled. “You’ve been great, Spike, really. Thanks.”

Spike felt her gratitude was misplaced and he quickly changed the subject. “You can take all this location spell stuff with you, right, love? It’d be helpful on the road.”

“Yeah, I’ll bring enough for a few days.”

Willow grabbed what she needed and they parted ways to get the much-needed rest for the work ahead of them.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Will? I mean, he can’t fight humans, how will he be able to help?” Buffy was less than thrilled about Spike coming with them, but Willow seemed confident that he could lend a hand. Also, she had been hoping he would keep an eye on Dawn and her mother while she was gone.

“Well, you can’t drive and I don’t have a car, so it’s probably a good idea to have someone who can drive. Plus he lent a hand last night when he didn’t have to. He wants to help out and we need all the help we can get.”

That seemed like the last word on the subject, because Spike came in the Magic Shop, ready to go. “Alright, ducks, lets hit the road. Beasties to find, you know.”

Giles, who had been in the back taking inventory, came out to say goodbye. “I’ll keep an eye on Joyce and Dawn for you, Buffy. Don’t worry about them, just find Tara and keep me updated.”

Buffy threw him a grateful look and they were off.

“Wake up, now. Come on.” Tara heard the voice floating around her, but she couldn’t open her eyes. She felt like she was underwater and all she wanted was for the voice to go away so she could sleep some more. “Pretty, pretty…wake up for me.”

Suddenly, like a slap in the face, Tara realized where she was. That word, that nickname he had given her, it turned her stomach every time he said it. She opened her eyes and saw his face hovering just a few inches from hers. This was the first time she’d really seen his face, except when he’d first taken her, and she set about memorizing every aspect, in case she did make it out alive.

He was short for a guy, not much taller than Tara herself. She remembered not having to look up that far when she first ran into him. He was stocky and big, but seemed to have a few muscles. His shaggy black hair was mussed and unkempt, greasy and stringy. It framed a large, round, face and fell just below his ears. His mouth held less than the standard thirty-two teeth and Tara found herself wanting to give a lesson on dental hygiene. His nose was long and thin, a startling contrast from his chubby face. But most disturbing were his eyes. She’d noticed how blank they’d been when she first saw him, but now they were alive, as if torturing her had animated him. Even the irises were black, making him look somehow inhuman. They moved quickly over her face, like he was trying to commit to memory her features, just as she was doing to his. They were demented and wild eyes, and if Tara thought she’d been frightened before, she was terrified now.

Abruptly, he smiled, a vulgar smile with nothing but pleasure behind it. “There you are. I thought you’d sleep the day away. Now, where were we? Oh yes…the shoulders…” He lifted a knife to her face and slowly dragged it along her cheek, drawing blood. The knife made its way down the side of her neck to her right shoulder, leaving a shallow trail of blood in its wake. “What fun we’ll have today…”

Tara squeezed her eyes shut again, but his face still floated in front of her, smiling. This time, it was that image that made her cry, not the piercing of her shoulder with a butcher’s knife.

‘Maybe this wasn’t the best idea,’ Willow thought absently, setting up to do the spell again. They’d been on the road for about three hours, and were now in Nevada. Every hour or so, they would stop, Willow would perform the spell, and they would set off in the direction of the vapor line. While they were making good time and had yet to loose Tara’s trail, the bickering in the front seat hadn’t stopped for more than ten minutes at a time.

“Well, honestly, how are we supposed to see the little line with all the smoke in the car, let alone breathe? Can’t you at least try to get it out the window?”

“You know, I could, but I just don’t give a bloody damn about your delicate little lungs.” Spike smirked at Buffy, who was pouting. “Besides, love, it’s MY car.”

“I knew you’d figure out a way around that chip. You’re going to kill me with lung cancer.” She coughed dramatically to emphasize her point.

Spike grinned wickedly and Willow was pretty sure she knew what he was planning before he did. He took a long drag on his cigarette and blew a slow stream of smoke towards the passenger seat. His laughter and her coughing echoed in the car and Willow rolled her eyes.

“Buffy roll down your window, maybe that will help. Spike don’t blow smoke at her. Traveling with the two of you is like traveling with two ten-year-olds. Next thing you know, Spike is going to be pulling your pigtails and you’ll be crying bloody murder because he has COOTIES!” The two in the front seat both looked a little ashamed, and muttered ‘sorry’ to each other, though Willow doubted either meant it. “We are going to have to stop again in a few minutes, so you two can fight it out then. But for now, sit back, shut up, and play nice!”

Willow had had enough. She was terrified for Tara and it was all she could do not to break down in tears at the thought of what that man could be doing to her. Her nerves were frazzled and all the two of them could do was fight. She recognized that it wasn’t just fighting for Spike; in his own twisted way he was trying to flirt with Buffy. Willow didn’t mind that that was his real reason for coming, because he had been a big help so far. Without a car, Willow and Buffy wouldn’t have gotten out of Sunnydale, so the redhead could forgive him his ulterior motives. She just hoped they could keep their hormones under control until this was all over.

Tara felt herself losing consciousness and it felt much like falling asleep, without the comforting idea of dreaming, or waking up. She felt as though she were falling into darkness, an empty, all-encompassing void where pain and desperation were the only inhabitants. She bit the inside of her cheek and forced her eyes open, afraid of the darkness and the possibility of not returning from it. Many hours had passed since they had arrived in this small, empty room, maybe even days, and what little hope Tara had left was waning.

She was laid out on a table now, face up, almost completely naked. At first she had blushed and been ashamed of her nudity, but after about three minutes, modesty was the last thing on her mind. He had carved different shapes and designs into her skin, many of them symbols of the occult. While he was out of the room earlier, Tara looked them over and one she recognized as a pagan binding charm. She lifted her head now to see what he was doing, and was greeted by his gruff voice, forced into a cheerful tone.

“Ah, pretty, you’re still awake. You should probably rest soon. This next bit will probably take a lot of energy out of you.” The whole time he spoke, he ran his hand up her leg and across her stomach, pressing down, as if trying to keep her still. Trying not to think about what he was planning to do next, Tara turned her head and squeezed shut her eyes, missing the small scalpel that he raised to her chest. “But don’t worry, it will only be a few more days before you can rest. I’m making sure you’ll be able to rest forever. No coming back this time.” Now his voice was at her ear again, his hot, sticky breath reeking of insanity and stale intentions.

Tara didn’t see him dip the scalpel in alcohol. She didn’t see him let his gaze walk over her body, looking for a patch of untouched skin. She didn’t see his eyes rest on the area just above her left breast. And she didn’t see him smile.

The blonde slipped into the dreaded unconsciousness as the blade tore into her flesh, drawing in her skin a heart, a picture that would have been cute if drawn on white paper with red crayon. But the white here was skin and the red was blood, and it was anything but innocent.

The man silently decided that the time for sketching on her hide was through. Letting the small cutting edge dip under the skin, he peeled the small heart off of her chest and laid it on the table beside her. Lifting his hand, he caressed the bloody opening above her breast like a lover, sighing with the pure joy of the act. He would rid the body of its shell and burn its heart, releasing its soul forever. And finally she would be free of this world.

She’d been dead for almost a month when he first saw her again. A sweet girl, with her blonde locks and supple body. He didn’t believe it was her at first, but then those eyes. Those piercing blue-gray eyes that had always stopped his heart cold. He knew his dead lover was haunting him and the only way to release her would be to rid her of the body, letting her move on, letting her leave this realm.

He hadn’t questioned his duty, but simply caught the girl and snapped her neck. He decided afterwards that he should take her skin, leaving the soul a way out of the protective shell. But not four days later, he saw her again, that same hair, that same frame. So he took her and hid out, taking his time in freeing the soul, thinking maybe he’d done it too quickly before. He also decided that maybe she had to still be alive when the soul was freed, so he left her alive until after the skinning. When he’d seen her a third time, he became frustrated. He hid her away in an old factory while he read and researched in the occult, memorizing symbols and runes that might help liberate her. Then he’d taken almost two weeks, skinning her bit by bit, letting her revel in the pain of stealing his love’s soul, then he had carved out her heart and buried it.

Then he’d seen her again. This one, she was strong, and he knew it would take awhile to break her. She hadn’t spoken, hadn’t cried out, hadn’t begged or pleaded. But then, his love had always been very strong. So he knew that the best thing he could do, would be to break her down completely before taking the heart, to break her spirit so it wouldn’t want to come back to this world.

Drawing a line on her skin with the blood on his fingers, the man smiled his horrid smile once again. This time it would work. He just had to take his time.

Buffy, Willow and Spike had stopped for gas right outside of the New Mexico state line. Willow was in the Quik Stop getting snacks, leaving Spike and Buffy to fight outside at the car.

“We can’t pay you.”

“What’s that, love?”

“You heard me. If you’re expecting money for this, forget it.”

“Well, thanks for the clue, Slayer, but I’m not doing this for money.”

“Right. So why then, if not out of pure selfishness?”

Spike judged the petite blonde very carefully before he spoke. He knew this journey was not the time to bring up his feelings for her, but he thought it would be the only way she would understand how important this mission was to him. “I just understand.” When she looked at him expectantly, he continued, “If something like this happened to someone I loved as much as those two love each other, I’d hope I’d have friends devoted enough to go with me to get my sweetheart back, s’all.”

Buffy snorted at his sentiment. “Well, you better believe I wouldn’t be in on that little road trip.”

“No, love,” Spike looked at her, his eyes full of hurt, “You’d be the one we went to find.”

Buffy felt her mouth go dry at his words, but before she could respond, she heard Willow’s voice behind her.

“I think he’s moved her again. Before we were headed straight east, but now we are definitely headed south.” She handed Spike a package of chips, “Sorry, they didn’t have O positive, so I got you barbeque. That okay?”

“Perfect, ducks.” He and the Slayer had yet to break their gaze, but it was time to get back on the road. “So lets get headed southward then, shall we?” He tore his eyes from Buffy’s and got in the car. She stood there motionless for a few more seconds before climbing in the passenger door.

“What’s wrong, Buff?” Willow asked. She’d noticed how they were looking at each other when she came out, and she assumed that Spike had finally told her how he felt. “You look kind of pale.”

“I- I’m fine, Will. Just a little carsick.” She turned her head and looked out the small opening in the blacked-out window, the general mood in the car having shifted from loud and tense to quiet, sullen, and tense.

Willow was actually thankful to Spike. He had provided a silencer to the bickering, as well as a melodrama to keep her mind off of the thought of losing Tara. She smiled lightly when she noticed the fidgety vampire stealing glances at Buffy. ‘He really does love her…’

“I don’t understand why you are crying!” The man was yelling at Tara, who couldn’t help the tears of pain that made a trail down her cheeks. “I’m doing this for you! I’m giving you your rest and all you can do is cry! You should be happy, damn you!”

Tara was terrified. The man had been bellowing at her for close to twenty minutes and all she could do was weep. All she wanted was to see Willow, to touch her face, and see her smile, but every time she closed her eyes, the man’s ragged grin pierced her thoughts. His shouting and throwing things did not help the situation.

She had started crying about an hour ago, when she’d awoken in yet another different place. Each place had seemed to be an old hotel, where he had cleared off a table, drugged her, and gone to work. This place had yellow wallpaper with small pink flowers and horribly ugly southwestern patterned bedspreads. She tried to use the decorations of the hotel rooms as an indicator of where she was, but mostly it just served as a distraction from the knives.

The change in scenery hadn’t been the direct cause of her tears, however. When she woke up, there was a great deal of pain in her chest and stomach area, so she had raised her head as far as the drugs would allow and looked at her body. She took in the large patches of skin missing from those areas. Most areas had been taken in small shapes, like the heart above her left breast and the stars and moons scattered on her stomach. There was also a medium sized pentagram on her right thigh. Blood was everywhere and the pain was just too much. The tears had come then, filling the hole that hope had left when it fled her body.

It had been almost an hour since anyone had spoken inside the De Soto. It was getting to be daytime now, so Spike was sleeping in the back, protected by the darkened windows, while Willow drove. Buffy looked over her shoulder at the sleeping vampire and then turned back to her friend at the wheel.

“We’ll find her, Will.” She tried to sound reassuring, but wasn’t sure herself.

“I’m beginning to believe that,” She glanced at her friend hopefully. “The line on the map is getting stronger every time I do the spell, and…” She stopped, looking at Buffy as though she was afraid her friend wouldn’t believe her.

“Go on, Willow. What is it?”

Willow smiled slightly, “I can feel her. She’s close now. I know she’s still alive, but…I can almost feel it when…when he hurts her.” Her face darkened at this last, but brightened marginally when she repeated the former. “I know she’s still alive.”

“That’s good.” Buffy was truly relieved to hear this, and happy the redhead had found a little hope. “You just keep knowing that, okay?”

The two friends shared a quick look that held the love they felt for each other. For a moment, it was all okay and they were just driving to the Bronze for a dance. Buffy had a quick flash of the ghost of Willow past, seeing her smiling through the pain right before Buffy had gone to fight the Master. ‘I like your dress,’ she’d said, smiling, even though the Anointed One had violated a small part of her world.

Buffy smiled at Willow, “You are so strong, Will. She’s lucky to have you. And,” she hesitated, feeling like a mother, but made herself continue. She wanted the witch to know. “And, I’m so proud of you. Of who you’ve become since I met you.” She felt like crying, felt like their world was changing all over again.

Willow just smiled her brave smile and nodded back at the Slayer. “I know.”

‘Willow’s smile…Willow doing a spell…Willow kisses…’ Tara struggled to think of anything besides what the man was doing to her right then.

“Pretty…are you too warm? It’s warm in here. No air conditioning in these stupid places.” His face was inches from hers, his sour breath assaulting Tara’s senses. He was searching her face for any sign of recognition, or of affection. He leaned up and started peppering her nearly unmarred face with kisses. She tried to turn her head, never crying out, but now the sobbing had begun again. “Too hot for all that, eh, pretty? Well, lets try to cool you off. No need for long sleeves, right?”

Tara held a picture of Willow in her head, love in her eyes and joy in her smile. She concentrated on every aspect of her lover’s features while waiting for the blade to enter her skin again. When it did, it entered at her shoulder, encircled her arm, and then ran down the length of her arm to her wrist, not going deep enough to effectively slit her wrist. When it got down to her hand, the cutting edge encircled it, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Tara opened her eyes briefly to see what he was drawing this time and felt her stomach lurch when she watched him peel the skin back. In a flash, all the skin from her left arm was gone, leaving exposed muscles and tendons, like a red sleeve.

Not dreading the darkness any longer, Tara passed out again.

Spike lay in the back of the car, listening intently to the girls’ conversations. He was very glad that the witch was so optimistic about her dear heart and that the two of them had bonded and all, but he silently wished they’d get round to him. He watched Buffy through barely slit eyelids as she looked pensively out the window once again. He stiffened when Red broached the subject.

“So he told you, huh?” Spike did a double take. How had she known?

“How did you know?”

Spike rolled his eyes. ‘Wish she’d quit reading my mind.’

“Well its obvious if you aren’t, well, you,” Willow looked at an extremely dismayed Buffy, amused. “Don’t act like it’s so repulsive. I’ve seen the way you look at him when you think no one’s looking.”

“SHHH!” Buffy hushed the witch and threw a look over her shoulder to make sure Spike was still sleeping. It was exceptionally difficult to hide his amusement and play dead (though not actually needing to breathe helped), but he managed to keep the smile from surfacing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh, and that’s why you were so afraid he was listening.”

“Well…” A thoughtful beat from the Slayer. “Well, alright, I’m not denying that he’s moderately yummy.”

“Buffy.”

“Fine! Fine, incredibly yummy. But Buffy plus soulless demon equals death and destruction.” She looked at Willow pleadingly, “It can’t end well. Besides, look at how much we fight.”

“Foreplay.” Willow said matter-of-factly. Spike had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud.

“Willow!” Buffy was shocked, but couldn’t help smiling.

“Well it’s true, Buffy. Have you ever noticed how worked up the two of you are after you argue? You ever wonder why you always want to beat him up? It’s you turning all the sexual aggression into plain old aggression.”

Spike was grinning madly in the backseat, thinking he had to thank Red when they stopped next. She had them pegged.

“I don’t think so, Willow. Its just good old-fashioned hatred.” Buffy tried to make her case, but a nagging suspicion kept her from being completely convinced herself. She looked back out the window and thought.

In less than three days, Tara had gone from hopeful and determined, to despondent and desperate. It hadn’t taken long after the man had skinned her arm for her to pass out, and when she woke next she was turned over on her stomach, also relieved of the burdens known as the skin on her other arm and thighs. She had noticed that he had tended to some of the wounds and as she surveyed the damage, she was silently grateful for the drugs that eased the pain. But that was all she had left to be thankful for.

She found herself dried of tears and could no longer see Willow’s face in her mind. She knew now that she was going to die, and nothing would stop it. She felt Willow’s presence, close, but a stronger feeling told her she wouldn’t find the blonde witch in time. Tara’s head was clearer than it had ever been the entire time she’d been in this man’s clutches, but she still felt out of control. She raised her arm, looking at the damage. It looked as though she was wearing white gloves with a red long sleeved shirt. This thought struck Tara as funny and she found herself laughing a loud, sharp cackle that in no way resembled her own. There was no humor in it, just fear and pain.

She silently wished for death to come quickly.

Buffy lay against the passenger side window, asleep, as was Spike sitting in the back. Willow had known Spike was listening, but thought it was good for the pair if he heard Buffy admit her attraction to him.

Willow was musing about the two when she felt a sharp pang of despair. She knew that it was Tara’s mind calling out to her, telling her that she was afraid and helpless, but Willow refused to see it for a bad omen. Instead, she forced herself to feel relief at the fact that her love was still alive. She had just dealt with the pang when she heard sharp laughter in her mind. Again, that was Tara, and this time the redhead panicked. The sound had been absolutely bleak and accepting. Tara was ready to die.

Willow pulled off onto the first exit she saw and was yelling at the two passengers as soon as she was off the highway. “We have to stop! Get the spell stuff ready! We have to stop!”

The vampire and the Slayer sat up, shaking sleep off and sharing a look of panic themselves before they readied the ingredients so when they came to a full stop, the witch could do her thing. Neither of them knew what had happened to frighten Willow so much, but both felt in their bones that it was something horrible.

Giving up finding a parking lot, Willow opted to pull over on the shoulder and do her spell quickly. “SITUATI TARA!” She practically screeched at the area where she had sprinkled the ingredients. Her desperation was contagious, as Buffy began to fidget.

The three looked down on the map of New Mexico as the vaporous line reappeared. It made its way away from them, ending in a large dot not two miles from where they were parked.

Suddenly Spike was amped and he started bouncing with energy. “Lets find this fucker. Come on, ducks, lets go get him right now; Rip his bloody head off.”

Willow did nothing but look up at him and nod, murder in her eyes.

Tara felt Willow so close it hurt her heart. She found herself laughing again, this time with a twinge of hope. The man was confused at her sudden state of jocularity, and when he stopped his work on her back and went to talk to her face, he found himself wishing he hadn’t skipped the last dose of the drug he’d been supplying her with.

Her eyes had gone black, matching his in wildness and animalism. Her soft features bore a sharp look that worried him. He was at a loss for words, until she laughed again, a smile trying desperately to reach her lips. “What are you on about, pretty? Finally enjoying my work, are you?”

She spoke directly to him for the first time since he had begun his torture. With a strained smile, she said, “They’re coming for you. They will find you and you…will…die.” Her laugh broke the silence once again, and he almost dropped his knife to the floor.

Suddenly fury coursed through him and he backhanded her roughly. “Now, now, pretty. No fantasies. No one is coming for you. And it is you who will die.” His face was an inch from hers at this point, and Tara spit into it, laughing still.

“Yes, I’m sure it’s him.” Willow was on the payphone outside the hotel the map had shown them to. She felt she had to call the police, just to say that she had. “Yes, I’m sure he’s dead. I killed him myself.”

Buffy’s heart went cold. She hadn’t realized the witch was planning on actually taking a human life, though she understood how much pain this whole ordeal must have caused. The Slayer watched as Willow hung up the phone.

“No more talking,” she announced to her two companions. “It’s time for action.”

They entered the hotel, Buffy hiding two small daggers in her shirt, Spike with his loaded shotgun, and Willow with her bag of magick tricks. The Slayer and the vampire followed the witch, who seemed to know exactly where they should go. The redhead still felt Tara’s soul crying out to her, and she followed the pull to the second floor. Room 217.

“Just like before,” she said quietly, before knocking.

Tara raised her head at the knock on the door. It was Willow, she could tell. Hope swelled in her.

“Room service,” came her lover’s voice and the blonde witch smiled brightly.

“I didn’t order room service,” called the madman who still held the knife to Tara’s back.

“Of course you didn’t, pretty,” Tara crooned to the man. “That’s your death they’re delivering.”

Her cruel smile was quickly followed by Spike bashing in the door and pointing his shotgun at the man. Before she could think, the bastard had pulled Tara up against him, facing the trio in the doorway, with the knife raised to her neck.

“One more step and I’ll slit her throat.”

Willow started at the sight of her lover’s body. All the skin was missing from her arms and the top half of her legs. Red patches blossomed all over her chest and belly, figures and symbols littering her front. She looked as though she’d lost at least ten pounds in the 72 hours since Willow had last seen her. The redhead flinched at the blood that seemed to be everywhere, but collected herself quickly and started her rescue.

“Separate,” she said simply, and the two were thrown to separate sides of the room. Willow ran over to Tara while Buffy and Spike approached the killer.

“Willow, oh, Willow,” Tara’s tears inspired the redhead’s own.

“Shhh, Tara, it’s okay. I found you,” she smiled lovingly down at her girlfriend, kissing away her tears. “I’ll always find you.”

Spike and Buffy tried to tie the man up. Spike held the shotgun on him, while Buffy approached him with the rope. But the man lashed out with the knife he still held, slicing through Buffy’s arm and then rushed Spike, who he outright stabbed in the abdomen. Bracing for the inevitable shock from his chip, Spike pulled the trigger. He spasmed as the pain wracked his body, and the shot went wild, hitting only ceiling tile.

“Bloody hell!” came the curse from behind her, and Willow turned to see the man running at them, knife in hand. Before she could say anything, he jumped at them screaming.

“SHE MUST BE RELEASED!” The force of his body knocking into theirs threw Willow two feet away, knocking her head against a table corner. When she raised her bleeding head, she watched as the crazed man raised his knife, laughing wildly, and plunged it into Tara’s chest.

Willow, enraged, screamed an incantation to throw the man against the wall. She then levitated all the remaining knives that the man had undoubtedly used on her lover, and threw them all at him, effectively stopping his ranting and raving, as well as his heartbeat.

The redhead ran back over to Tara, who was still breathing, albeit raggedly. “Tara, it’ll be okay. We’ll get you out of here.” The tears started again, though not out of happiness.

“Willow,” Tara raised a hand to her love’s cheek, a small smile on her lips. Her calm frightened Willow. “It’s okay now. This is how it’s supposed to be.” Her eyes had a faraway look for a second, but she came back into focus, still smiling. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“Tara, no. Please.” The two witches’ eyes met for the briefest of seconds. “Tara, don’t go. You can’t leave me.”

“I have to, Willow. I love you.” The smile that graced Tara’s lips met her eyes, lighting them. “You’ll find me again.” After a moment, that light left her eyes as the smile left her lips.

“Tara, I love you. Oh, goddess, no,” Willow collapsed on her lover’s body, not noticing its semi-skinned state, weeping for a lost love.

Spike and Buffy looked on, distressed, both of their hearts wringing from watching their friend in so much pain. Silent tears coursed down Buffy’s cheeks as she leaned in to pull Willow away.

“Wills, come on. I hear the sirens, the cops are coming.”

“No, I can't leave her. I can't leave her like this.” Willow looked around and grabbed a sheet from the bed. “She’ll be cold, she’s got no clothes. She’ll be cold.” She started crying again, and this time Spike stepped forward.

“It’s alright, pet. I’ll take care of her. Just go with Buffy. I’ll make sure she’s warm.” His voice was soft and soothing, filled with pain as he tried to talk down the redhead. Buffy spared him a thankful glance when Willow rose and came to her. The two girls walked out of the dreadful room and waited in the hall for the police, as Spike picked up Tara’s lifeless body and set her on the bed.

They sat in the Magic Box, trying to research Glory. The council had yet to provide them with anything else of use, so they were taking it upon themselves to find out. The shop was closed and the Scoobies were spread about, each with a book. Buffy sat alone at the table in the middle of the room, Giles was at the counter, Spike sat on the stairs, and Anya and Xander sat on the floor, sharing a book.

Willow sat on a pillow at the front window; book in her lap and eyes on the sky. They had all noticed how she had withdrawn into herself, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to connect with her. Tara’s death had shaken them all, but Willow was forever changed.

At the funeral, they’d been able to arrange an open coffin, because Tara’s face had remained untouched by the madman’s knife. Willow had done all the work, preparing the programs, choosing the coffin, and finding a priest for the service. Tara’s few remaining family members did not bother to show up, and made no effort to thank Willow for her pains, when she called to invite them.

While the ceremony was beautiful, with huge chrysanthemums and lilies surrounding the blonde girl’s grave, it was heartbreaking for all of them, not only to grieve for a lost friend, but also to watch Willow in so much pain. When the coffin had begun to lower into the ground, the redhead had collapsed to the ground, weeping and saying, “No, no, no, no…” over and over again.

Many times in the past two weeks, the entire gang would be together, at the shop or at Buffy’s house, and Willow’s eyes would glaze over as she replayed Tara’s last few moments in her head. It was obvious to everyone that she blamed herself for not getting there in time. Nothing anyone said helped, she would just nod, and with an insincere smile, say, “I know, it’ll get better.”

And here she sat, staring out the window, longing to understand the rhyme or reason of the past three weeks. Wishing that she’d gone with Tara to the Magic Shop the night she was taken. Going over the millions of things she could have done differently.

Every time Willow closed her eyes, she saw Tara’s smile as she breathed her last breath, heard the courage in her words. ‘This is how it’s supposed to be.’ It was all she could do not to break down every time her thoughts turned to her absent lover. The redheaded witch kept the image of her love’s face smiling up at her, telling her she loved her, and reminding her that she would find the blonde Wicca again.

That was the only consolation anyone could offer her.

Buffy watched, helpless, as her friend’s gaze fell from the window, and tears fell from her eyes. She felt her own eyes welling up, when Spike sat down next to her.

“Don’t worry, love, she’ll pull through this,” he tried to console the blonde sitting next to him. “She’s stronger than this, our Red.”

The Slayer looked at him warily. There had been tension between them since he admitted how he felt about her, but she could tell he really cared about Willow, as well. “I know…I just wish there was something we could do to make it better.”

“She has to come through it herself. She has to want to get over it.” He looked at Buffy sadly. “And she will. I know it; I feel it.”

She wanted to remind him that he was a demon who couldn’t feel, but the pain in his eyes when he looked at Willow’s weeping form told her differently. Instead, she turned her head and looked at her broken friend, as well. “I wish I could have killed him for her. You know, saved her at least that much heartache.” She shook her head still amazed at the evil the man had been capable of. “I just don’t understand how he could do what he did and be so happy about it.” She shuddered as she saw again in her mind, the madman standing over Tara’s body, smiling, laughing.

“I know what you mean.” He paused, sullen, lost in his own thoughts of what he could have done differently. “The part that really gets me, though, love,” he waited for her to look back at him, and then continued. “Is how he had a soul. He did all that with a soul. And he laughed about it.”

He held her eyes for a moment longer and watched his words sink in. When he was sure she understood what he was trying to say, he got up from beside her and went back to his book.

Buffy watched him for a moment, realizing something that blurred the edges of her black-and-white Slayer values. ‘Not all monsters are demons,’ she thought sadly, unexpectedly seeing the blonde vampire in a new light, ‘And not all demons are monsters.’ Looking back at her redheaded friend, still weeping on the floor, she said quietly to herself, “What an ugly world.”

The End