Brian D. Buckley

Standard Disclaimer

This is fan fiction of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, which were created by Joss Whedon. If you like, you can read my thoughts on the ethics and legality of fan fiction.

[Start reading story from beginning]

[Go back to chapters 25 & 26]

Chapter 27

Willow slipped between moments.

Billions of galaxies halted in their ponderous motion. The Earth stilled its race around the sun, the black clouds froze, the raindrops hovered mid-air. Tara’s face became a snapshot, a study in courage and resolve. Abaddon, a slavering wolf, paused on the brink of attack. All around, statues of a battle, memorials to warriors not yet fallen.

Slowly, deeply, Willow breathed. In, and out. In, and out.

Here, in this space without time, she was perfectly calm: neither angry nor afraid, neither hateful nor proud. It was not dark magic, this energy she held. It was power, pure and simple, distilled and purified, undiluted by feeling, the raw light of Creation itself.

She looked around at the anger and the pain, the weapons and the heroes, the stark desperation of bloodshed. And she thought: violence is such a clumsy way to kill.

Physical combat was arduous and risky. Guns could miss. Bombs and missiles were costly, complicated, imprecise. Even subtler violence, like poison, could be detected or survived.

Magical violence was no better. Telekinesis, lightning, turning blood to ice – she knew all the tricks. But chant the wrong word, use the wrong kind of crystal, and the entire thing could fail or backfire. Even if it worked, there were wards, counterspells, defenses. The whole affair was dubious at best.

It had taken her most of her life to learn the manifest truth. Violence was a child’s game.

If you wanted to kill someone, just kill them.

Willow reached out with her mind.

Embraced Abaddon and his warriors.

Gathered their life-threads.

Caressed them tenderly.

And snapped.

Forgive me, she thought, to no one in particular, and shifted back into time.

Chapter 28

Abaddon’s body crashed into the mud just in front of Tara. At the same moment, all the demons – the entire army – crumpled like discarded marionettes.

The cries and yells faded to murmurs of confusion. People looked around at the corpses, trying to understand.

Willow helped Tara to her feet. “Are you okay?” she asked. But Tara only gazed at her with an unreadable expression.

The witches migrated to Willow first. They had sensed the magic and its source. They gathered around her, staring – some in horror, some in revulsion, some in awe. Several of them wept. One girl knelt down and threw up quietly.

Emily said softly, “What did you do?”

Willow didn’t answer. The question was, she guessed, rhetorical.

Following the witches’ lead, everyone else congregated around. All of them looking at her.

“You did this?” said Dawn.

“Willow,” said Xander. “You got your power back!”

“No,” said Buffy, in a voice hard as diamond. “She never lost it. Did you?”

Silently, Willow shook her head.

“You didn’t burn out when you killed the Senior Partners,” said Buffy.

“If anything,” Willow said quietly, “it made me stronger. The limit on my magic was…self-imposed. Like a nozzle on a pipe. I could remove it anytime. And I did.”

“Anytime,” Buffy echoed. “Anytime, you could have ended this.”

She was stained all over with blood and dirt. Most everyone was.

Buffy laughed, dark and dangerous, and held out her arms to encompass the battlefield. “Well, aren’t we a bunch of idiots, huh? Fighting for our lives like it actually mattered. At least three of my Slayers are dead, Willow. At least two witches. And the twelve Slayers from the Watchers’ Council.” Another wild laugh. “Boy, I bet they feel stupid now!”

“Buffy…” said Dawn.

“Hell, twenty years of chasing down vampires. Crawling in holes, marching through jungles and swamps, freezing in the Arctic. Keeping a list of every Slayer who gave her life for the cause, to be sure I’d never forget. God, isn’t it nice that you let me spend a third of my life on that, instead of snapping your fingers to do it instantly?”

“Buffy,” said Dawn. “Shut up.”

Buffy glared at her. “Excuse me?”

“Let her talk,” said Dawn. “Let her tell us the reason.”

“Oh, by all means,” said Buffy. “Y’know, I’m curious too. What was the reason, Willow?”

Willow looked around at all of them, searching for the words. She felt empty.

“The power that I have,” she began, still quiet, “is absolute. There are no barriers. No counterspells. No limits but my own conscience. I can kill anyone, anytime, anywhere, for any reason, instantly, without consequence. I can sit in judgment on the whole planet, dispensing life and death, without leaving my house. That’s what this power is.”

She shook her head.

“I won’t be that person. I won’t walk that path.”

Willow brushed some wet hair out of her face.

“I promised myself I would never do this, and I never will again. Today, I broke my promise, and that was wrong. I’m sorry. But I couldn’t…I just couldn’t…”

She looked at Tara, and her voice broke.

“She’s my girl.”

Buffy was unimpressed.

“So I guess you just would’ve let Abaddon kill me, huh, Will? I guess I don’t qualify for this special protection program. Apparently it’s only people you’ve made out with. Oz, I suppose he qualifies. What about Xander?”

“Buffy,” said Xander. “It’s not that simple, and you know it.”

“It is that simple!” Buffy yelled. “Don’t you get it? This is over, and you’re going home to your nice little house with your nice little wife, and I’m going back out there with Zeta Black, risking my life, to do what I have to do. All because her morals are too precious to let her hands get dirty. We’ll be hunting for decades – ”

“No.”

It was Giles. No longer glowing. Holding a rag to the wound on his shoulder.

Buffy turned on him. “I’m sorry, did you say ‘no?’”

“You shall not hunt vampires ever again,” he said.

“Are you seriously giving me orders? Now, after everything?”

“It’s not an order,” he said. “It’s a fact.”

“Is that right? And please, Mr. Giles, do tell me just one single reason why I should give up my life’s mission.”

“Because there are no more vampires,” he said.

She stared.

“What?”

“That one you killed yesterday night. He was the last. It’s over.”

She marched up close to him. “You can’t possibly know that.”

“There is a flame in the Watchers’ Catacombs,” he said, “that has burned as long as anyone remembers. It symbolizes our fight against the vampires. I got a message just now. It has gone out.”

“So?” she said. “So a draft came through the window. Who cares?”

“It’s true,” Emily said in surprise. “I just did a spell to point me toward the nearest vampire. There isn’t one.”

“Yeah,” said Buffy, “because witches are right at the top of my trust list right now.”

Spike was staring off into space. “Tetelestai. ‘It is finished.’ He knew. Somehow, he knew.”

Buffy frowned. “No. That doesn’t…that doesn’t mean…”

“Commander.” A Slayer approached her. It was Alice, from Sri Lanka. She was holding the Scythe. “Look. The wooden stake on the end. It broke off during the battle. The spell to protect it has lifted. It isn’t needed anymore.” She wore an expression of weary triumph on her face. “Ma’am, it’s over. We’ve won!”

“No. No.” Buffy was shaking her head. “It can’t be over. I can’t believe…”

Everyone was talking now – some arguing, some excited, most just trying to figure it all out.

After a minute, Dawn came up to her sister, leading a woman by the hand.

“Buffy,” said Joyce.

“Mom?” Buffy looked startled. Hurt. “No, I…I wasn’t going to see you.”

Joyce kissed Buffy’s hair. “Sweetie. I am so proud of you. I always have been. You’re so strong, and you have a good heart. I love you and your sister more than anything.”

She gathered her up in her arms, and Dawn hugged them both at once.

When at last they let each other go, Giles put his hand on Buffy’s shoulder. “And I am proud of you, Buffy. I have never stopped being proud of you.”

At long last, bleeding and overwhelmed, she broke down. She buried herself in his arms, and he held her tight.

“Giles, I’m tired,” she said in a small voice. “I’m so, so tired.”

“It’s all right,” he told her. “It’s over. You can rest now, Buffy. You can rest.”

[Go on to chapters 29 & 30]

Standard Disclaimer

This is fan fiction of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, which were created by Joss Whedon. If you like, you can read my thoughts on the ethics and legality of fan fiction.

[Start reading story from beginning]

[Go back to chapters 23 & 24]

Chapter 25

She came to a halt and fired a beam of green light from her hand, high up into the air. The warning beacon.

Willow felt like her insides had shrunk, as if a great happiness had boiled away, leaving only a hard, misshapen core. They had to win, and fast. She had to keep Tara safe. She had to see her again.

Spike was the first to arrive. The soul of a young woman followed him. Was that…Harmony?

“All I’m tryin’ to tell you,” Spike said, “is that I treated you wrong, and I’m sorry. It’s a simple apology. Is that so hard to understand?”

“Whatever,” said Harmony. “That wasn’t even me. That was some vampire chick that got my freakin’ body right before I freakin’ graduated. I’ve never even seen you before. There’s nothing to talk about!”

“Then why are you still following me?”

“Because even though you’re, like, totally old, I think you could look très hot if your hair wasn’t all floppy and lame. Is it a wig? Can you take it off? Is it all wrinkly underneath?”

He managed to shoo her away and came up beside Willow.

“So trouble’s coming?” he said.

She nodded straight ahead. “That way.”

“You sure? The scouts haven’t seen anything.”

Even as he spoke, a distant wall of slate-gray stormclouds creeped closer, trampling a path across the sunny sky. The first faint peals of thunder echoed over barren land.

“I’m sure,” she said.

Illyria came next. She stood beside them and watched the clouds silently. Then Xander, with his axe.

“Did you find her?” said Willow.

“Not yet,” he said darkly. “But I will.”

Emily arrived, and some of the other witches and Slayers. They were keeping a few of their forces in a ring around the souls, but they concentrated their strength where the attack was most likely.

Dawn joined them now – wiping away tears, cradling her rifle like her own child – and refused to say anything.

Last of all came Buffy. She stopped for a second to cup Dawn’s cheek in her hand, then strode forward and took point in front of everyone. A growing wind tousled her hair. She held her Scythe like the Hammer of Thor.

“Anyone seen Giles?” she asked. But nobody had.

The vast, black thunderhead rumbled above them, cutting off the sun. The air grew cool. Come on, thought Willow, enough theatrics. I haven’t got all day.

Then, miles away, a great red explosion went off from the crater’s rim. Another, and another. The traps going off, she thought. Flashes of light, a low rumble. The invisible protective dome suddenly appeared, like a huge bubble all around, then cracked apart and vanished.

It was coming.

A minute passed. Another. Then Illyria said, “Something approaches.”

The black speck in the distance grew into a lumbering beast. Four…no, six legs. The horns of a bull. Dark plates, like a beetle’s shell, covered its back, while shaggy brown hair grew underneath. Hooves, but also sharp curving claws on the front feet.

Riding it was the figure of a man.

The creature slowed to a halt some distance away, and the man, or the demon, or whatever he was, dismounted. He walked straight to Buffy, unhurried but purposeful. He was wrapped in ragged brown robes, and a brown blindfold covered his eyes – if he had any. His skin was stark white, his hair messy black.

He had a long wooden spear with a curved metal head. He held it by its end, dragging its head on the ground behind him.

Buffy walked out to meet him. They stopped a little way apart.

“Abaddon,” she called out.

He opened his mouth, and the words were like the scraping of metal, the gnashing of teeth on bone.

“Naj rakha, ik raja nakha, rakath ha naja, vi nahn.”

Willow didn’t recognize the language, but by some power of his, the meaning echoed in her mind.

Behold, the apes gather to oppose me, with their rocks and their sticks.

“Damn skippy,” said Buffy. “Sunnydale is my town. And this particular stick is really sharp, made of metal, and going inside your spleen if you don’t back the hell off.”

“Ikraznah ak sarrakiah, nag zakka karajh anakh sikamo, arakatha rikaz.” I shall rip the entrails from your corpse and devour your spirit.

“As pickup lines go, not one of the better ones. Kind of a psycho stalker vibe. How about, ‘Hello, I’m the Locust-King, can I buy you a drink?’”

“Akhaviat rinkankhan mikhar o hajkama arakk shazakha.” You shall not keep me from my birthright, mortal.

She settled into a ready stance, feet apart, weapon forward. “Then come over here and take it, Abbie, ’cause you’re puttin’ me to sleep with the small talk.”

Abaddon took up his spear in both hands. The ground shook. Far off, a row of black dots grew into a galloping horde. Creatures like the one that had borne Abaddon. No riders, just demons.

Dozens of them.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

Willow slipped the medallion around her neck, felt the heat of fresh energy burn outward from her heart, crackling through every muscle and every pore. All around, she could sense her witches readying their own power.

Slayers readied their weapons, that same gun/spear hybrid she had seen in Sri Lanka. Xander leveled his axe. Dawn flipped off the safety on her M16. Spike drew his sword. Illyria just stood and watched her enemies, still and august as the Egyptian Sphinx.

Someone hobbled up beside her, and she looked over to see Giles. “Terribly sorry,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t really run anymore. Hope I haven’t missed anything?”

Willow flashed him a fierce smile. “We were just getting started.”

“Oh, good.”

He clasped his hands together, and green glowing runes appeared all over his body. She could feel the mystic forces churning inside him, aching for freedom.

Rough lightning cracked across the sky. The first thick raindrops slapped into the parched earth.

Then the screaming army drew near, and Abaddon charged at Buffy, and the whole world went to hell.

Chapter 26

Willow flexed her fingers. A vast curtain of fire erupted from the ground. Her witches all had pretty much the same idea, and the front ranks of the demons were engulfed in a ravenous inferno. Unable to stop, more and more piled into the wall of death.

But the creatures fanned out, and inevitably, some got through. The Slayers fell on these with abandon, but soon enough the witches had to protect themselves from behind as well as in front, and the line began to falter. The battle descended into a free-for-all.

The roar of voices, the screams of dying foes, the billowing smoke, the rain, the confused melee in every direction. It was chaos. And Willow was determined to do her part.

Her spell of choice was an old favorite: the bag of knives. Except she didn’t have a bag, and the knives were conjured from air, supernaturally sharp, and launched at half the speed of sound in waves of fifty at a time. Variety was the spice of combat.

Every warrior had their own style. One young, blond-haired witch preferred chain lightning that leapt from demon to demon. Another witch, older, favored telekinesis, flinging monsters high into the air and letting gravity do the rest. Emily, Gaia bless her, was fond of the classics. She stood on a pillar of fire, meting out globes of flame like an avenging angel.

Willow searched the battlefield. There was Dawn, spraying out bullets at anything that came close. Spike and Xander stood at her back, protecting her when she reloaded. Xander was bleeding from the scalp, but he seemed okay. Head wounds usually looked worse than they were.

In the other direction she found Illyria, smashing apart demons like piñatas with her bare hands. And yes, that was Giles – standing still, looking around, seemingly idle. Unless you happened to notice that wherever he looked, a column of light stabbed down from the clouds, vaporizing anything it touched.

And still the demons kept coming.

Giles was bleeding from the shoulder, but remained standing. Others weren’t so lucky. Olga, the Slayer from the jungle base, tried to get up and clutched her leg, face contorted with pain. Marissa, one of the less experienced witches, lay motionless on the ground. Dana, the red-haired lieutenant, was fending off enemies from all sides till a claw jutted through her chest. She collapsed. Willow’s breath caught. She had never even known the woman’s real name.

She took an instinctive step in Dana’s direction, and a hot pain seared her left leg. Willow looked down and discovered to her surprise that she was bleeding too. When had that happened?

And more importantly – where, in all this madness, was Buffy?

She found her at last, still locked in her furious duel with Abaddon. Spear clashed on Scythe, ringing over and over like an angry bell. Buffy’s stomach wound had reopened, and cuts had appeared on her face and arms, but she was in full-on berserker mode now, screaming her battle cries, weapon flashing in the rain. Abaddon fought her implacably, forcing her back and back, never taking a hit.

“Buffy!” cried Willow – drowned by the roar of battle – and pressed toward her friend, gritting her teeth against the pain in her leg. Even with her magic, it was slow going, dodging one projectile or another, tripping over demon corpses, fending off enemies left and right. Finally she got close.

She charged up all her remaining magic to strike…

The medallion went dead. It had run out.

Willow clutched it in horror.

Abaddon’s spear whirled, and Buffy’s Scythe flew from her hands, burying itself in a mud puddle some distance away. Buffy staggered back, stunned. The butt of the spear smashed into her chin, and she fell.

Willow watched, helpless, as Abaddon lifted his blade over Buffy, preparing the final strike…

And then a piercing beam of pure light singed his arm, and the spear clattered to the ground.

Willow looked back to where the beam had originated. One of the witches, but who? It wasn’t Emily, and no one else was close enough to –

No.

Abaddon turned to face his attacker. She stared him down, desperate and terrible, beautiful and brave.

Tara.

He picked up his spear and strode toward her. “Rash kajzakna azhah kinava makakh.” I shall feast on the marrow of your ghost.

She replied with another blast of light. This time, Abaddon waved a hand, shattering the spell as it came. She tried again, and again, to no effect. He came to her, irresistible as the tide.

Willow rushed forward, thinking frantically. Could she call someone for help? No, there was no one close enough. Was there any useful spell she could do? Not with the tiny stream of magic she had left. Not against Abaddon.

He seized Tara by the throat and hurled her. She struggled to rise. Couldn’t. Still she glowed, her skirt and hands immaculate despite the dirt and the mud.

Willow’s heart turned inside out. Her stomach roiled, she couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening again. It couldn’t.

Abaddon sneered, lifted his weapon, ran at Tara, and leaped.

No.

No, no.

No no no NO NO NO –

Deep in her heart, Willow Rosenberg made a decision.

[Go on to chapters 27 & 28]

Standard Disclaimer

This is fan fiction of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, which were created by Joss Whedon. If you like, you can read my thoughts on the ethics and legality of fan fiction.

[Start reading story from beginning]

[Go back to chapters 21 & 22]

Chapter 23

8:30 next morning. T-minus five hours.

Willow emerged from her tent into the cool desert air. Her phone alarm had gone off half an hour ago, but she’d already been awake. Hard to sleep on a night like that. She had on blue jeans, sneakers, and a long-sleeve shirt. Battle gear ought to be comfortable, right?

“Hey, Xander,” she said, as he came to see her with a battle axe slung over his shoulder. “Isn’t that the one that was hanging on your wall in Minnesota?”

He patted the axe’s handle. “Yep. Me and this baby go all the way back to Brazil.” He swung it around a few times. “I figure, your magic is mostly gone, Spike’s a pacifist, and Dawn and Giles aren’t really fighters. Somebody’s gotta protect you guys. Don’t worry, you just stay in one of the tents, I’ll keep the monsters away.”

“Oh. Well, that’s nice of you,” said Willow. “But actually, I’m going to use this.” She pulled a tear-shaped medallion from her pocket. “It’ll make me stronger. Not as strong as I was before, or even as strong as Emily, but hopefully enough to be useful.”

“Shouldn’t you, um, wear that more often?”

She shook her head. “They’re extremely rare, and once I put it on, I get maybe five or ten minutes of juice before it runs dry. Been saving it for a special occasion. I think this qualifies.”

Spike came out of a nearby tent, wearing the same clothes as last night. He looked around and joined them.

“Wasn’t that Buffy’s tent you just left?” said Willow.

“Um…” He smoothed his disheveled hair. “Could have been.”

“Well, was she in there?”

“Didn’t notice.”

“No more questions,” said Xander, “I don’t want to know. Spike, I was just telling Willow that I’ll watch your back during the battle. You know, since you’re all done with fighting these days.”

“Oh, well.” Spike laid a hand on a short sword that hung from his hip. “’Done’ is a strong word. I s’pose I could help out a little, fight the good fight and all that. Peace, uh, gets boring sometimes.”

“But if you kill anything, you’ll die,” said Willow. “Are you planning some big heroic sacrifice?”

“Uh, no, not really.” Spike drew the sword, revealing a straight forest-green blade, worked with intricate filigree. “Got this toy from a goblin in Belarus. Shoots out little sparks of lightning that’ll paralyze most kinds of demon. Not a kill, technically.”

Dawn ambled over, holding a big gray suitcase. “What’s new, kids?”

“Spike slept with Buffy,” said Willow.

“Already?” said Dawn. “Listen, how does that even work? She’s still mega-strong, and you’re not anymore. Wouldn’t she, like, break you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” said Spike, “but I happen to be very adaptable.” He rubbed his back, grimacing. “And if you know any good orthopedic surgeons, tell me about them after the battle. Assuming we’re both still alive.”

“Listen, Dawn,” said Xander. “I was thinking, you and Giles probably aren’t big on this battle stuff anymore. I just want you to know, I’m here to protect you from…”

Dawn opened her suitcase and pulled out a machine gun.

“Holy crap,” said Xander. “What the hell is that?”

“Colt 603 M16A1 fully-automatic assault rifle. Oldie but a goodie. I got it from a guy in Wyoming after the whole vampires-cutting-off-my-leg thing. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy when I sleep. Like a teddy bear.”

“That wouldn’t have killed the vampires,” said Xander.

“No,” said Spike, “but speaking as a former vampire, it wouldn’t have been a day at the bloody spa, either.”

“You had this in London?” said Willow. “You can’t even carry a pistol over there.”

“Huh,” said Dawn. “Guess it never came up.”

Giles joined their little group. “My, is that a Colt 603?” he said. “Those are getting harder to find.”

“So Giles,” said Xander, “do you have a special pendant you’re going to wear for the battle? Some kind of electric sword? A military-grade firearm, perhaps? Maybe a rocket launcher, for old times’ sake?”

“Ah, well, if so, it’ll be quite a surprise to me.”

“Okay. So, I just thought, if you want, I could keep you safe during – ”

“I will, however, be wielding an immense volume of sorcery on behalf of the coven in Devon, England. They lent me their power once, when Willow was – ehm – not herself, and after a phone call last night, they have agreed to do so again.”

“Oh, come on!” said Xander, throwing up his hands. “So just anybody can be a magic superhero now?”

“Yes, anybody,” said Giles. “So long as they are a world-class magic user, a proven warrior, a lifelong friend of the coven, and agree to do battle with a beast who could annihilate the world.”

“Man…” Xander examined his own weapon. “And all I have is this stupid axe.” He polished the blade with his sleeve. “Still…I guess it is pretty sweet, as axes go…”

Buffy showed up just then with her gleaming red-and-silver axe. “Everybody got their weapons?”

Chapter 24

1:34 PM. T-minus two minutes.

Willow stood three hundred yards away from the giant red ‘X’ spray-painted on the dirt. She glanced at the digital display on her wrist every so often. “I really thought Abaddon would’ve attacked by now.”

“Evidently, he’s waiting for the souls to appear,” said Giles.

Willow and Giles stood together with Xander, Dawn, and Spike. Buffy and Illyria were a ways off, talking about something.

Xander nodded in Buffy’s direction. “Is she really not going to see her mom?”

“Doesn’t want to reopen old wounds, she says.” Dawn stuck out her tongue. “Buttface.”

“Speaking of wounds,” said Xander, “is she going to be okay for battle? She still looks a little banged up from last night.”

Spike raised his hands defensively. “Hey, if anything, I made her feel better than – ”

“He meant the vampire fight, dumbass,” said Dawn. “She’ll be fine. Slayers heal quick.”

“Thirty seconds now,” said Willow. “Everybody get ready. Remember, we don’t know how much time we have, so hurry.”

“Yes, I shall hobble as rapidly as I can,” said Giles.

Willow’s heart quickened. Her palms were sweating. “This is it. This is it. Six…five…four…three…two…one…”

Nothing.

“Well, it’s hard to be precise,” she said. “The timing can vary by as much as forty seconds in either – ”

A vast crowd of people appeared. No flash of light, no roll of thunder. They simply existed, where a second before had been empty desert.

Willow looked around in surprise, then sprinted into the throng.

So many, far more than she imagined. And so loud! Everyone talking at once, hard to pick out individual voices over the din. She pushed past men and women, adults and children. Most looked more or less modern, but she saw her share of top hats and poofy dresses, mustachioed gentlemen and flappers. Everyone was solid enough, she quickly confirmed, but everyone also had a slight, whitish glow. Probably the excess energy from crossing the Empyrean Veil.

“Tara!” she yelled, and when that proved to be hopeless, she used a little stream of magic to amplify her voice. “TARA! TARA!”

Now and then she recognized someone. There was Larry, who’d picked on Xander in high school, killed in the battle on Graduation Day. He was searching his pockets, apparently having lost something. And there was Cassie, the kind young woman with precog abilities who had died of heart failure.

“Cassie! It’s me, Willow! Have you seen Tara?”

But Cassie didn’t hear, and was soon lost in the crowd. Just as well, Willow realized. Cassie and Tara had probably never met.

A minute later she came across two men arguing – one wearing a priest’s uniform, the other, a suit and tie.

“Look around you,” cried the priest, “it’s an abomination! These whores, these filthy sluts…”

The man in the suit chuckled. “Hello from the Department of Redundancy Department. And my goodness, such language from a clergyman! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Mayor Wilkins and Caleb. Willow felt sick. She veered aside, still making her way through the horde of people. “TARA!”

She was just reaching the far end of the crowd when a voice to her left called out, “Willow?”

Willow turned. The woman running toward her…

She was about Willow’s own age, long amber hair, a lavender skirt that nearly swept the sand. A necklace with some kind of gem. Lovely pale skin, intelligent blue eyes. On her hand, a wedding ring…

It couldn’t be. But it was.

Tara, as she would have been. If she had lived.

“Oh, Tara!” Willow cried, and they threw their arms around each other, holding each other tight, kissing over and over, saying each other’s names again and again, like a litany against pain.

Willow whispered into her ear, still not daring to let her go. “I’ve missed you,” she said. “I’ve missed you every day. Oh, darling. Oh, my dear, sweet angel. You don’t know what it was like.”

“Yes, I do,” Tara said, stroking her hair. “I watched you. Time is different, in the place I was. There isn’t a past or a future. Everything’s perfect and complete, nobody hurts, nobody hates anybody or dies. I wish you could see it. You will, you will see it. But I watched you all along, Willow. Everything. Everything. We’ve never been apart.”

They separated at last, only to look at each other again. Tara glanced down at herself. “It must be strange, to see me this way. But this is how I feel. This is who I feel that I am.”

“It’s perfect,” said Willow. “It’s even better than – ”

Suddenly Tara’s head snapped to the right.

Something was wrong.

“He’s coming,” she whispered.

“What?” Willow was shaking her head. “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Not now. We aren’t done. We need more time. We need – ”

Tara took hold of her and leaned close. “Time will come after,” she said urgently. “But now you need to go.”

She stepped back and pointed. Willow looked at her.

“GO!”

Willow stumbled back, turned, and tried to outrun the wind.

[Go on to chapters 25 & 26]