Summary: Tara doesn’t respond well to bad news.
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Spoilers and/or Warnings: references The Wish and the Wishverse, minor descriptions of blood
Title, Author and URL of original story: The Call of Death by sevendeadlyfun
Tara brushed off the dust of the unfortunate minion who’d delivered the message. She was careful that it didn’t mix with what was in the box he’d also delivered. The Master would be less one minion but she couldn’t have cared less. Her Willow was gone. Slain in her prime by the Slayer, the one they called Buffy. A low growl emanated from her. The Slayer would pay dearly. As would anyone who stood in her path.
“Bring her back,” suggested her sire. “Weave the stars together, paint the sky red,” Drusilla sang.
Tara thought about it. There might be a way. Searching for the book that she needed would keep her away from Spike. It was he who had taken her from her love. Dru had wanted to leave the Hellmouth. She’d spouted warnings of death and destruction. Tara had wanted to stay. Willow would not leave The Master, Xander or her “Puppy”. Now Willow was destroyed as was Xander, The Master was angry and the “Puppy”, Angel, was loose.
A note drifted from the bottom of the box. In her grief, Tara had missed it. The smell of The Master lingered on the paper. Tara didn’t like him. But Dru and Spike were his descendants, of a sort, so she tolerated that he was considered the strongest and wisest of their line. She might belong to the Aurelius clan but she didn’t have to like it. The note was short and simple. “Fix it”. Tara laughed. It seemed The Master couldn’t do without his faithful Willow either. Perhaps in bringing her back she could find a way to persuade her sire, Spike and The Master that she and Willow belonged together. If she was refused, she would show them just how powerful a witch she really was.
She spent the next three days searching. It had nearly turned into a bloodbath of its own. Tara was almost disappointed that it didn’t. But Spike had given her a look on the second day and she’d reigned in her more destructive impulses. Her anger and wrath were best channeled into bringing her lover back. Drusilla had followed her the first night, but bored easily.
“My pet will find her words,” she’d said. “Miss Edith and I must go name the stars and tell them all to our Spike.”
Tara didn’t reply. Drusilla and her doll named the stars on a weekly basis.
She found the book on the fourth night. The shop was on the outskirts of the next town. She had three of the minions with her. The shopkeeper needed only menacing. It was a beautiful grimoire, black and covered in symbols. It smelled of power and evil. A whispered word opened the lock. The pages were thick and heavy. Illustrations were vivid and as gory as any Hollywood horror film. The script was in a language that Tara couldn’t read but a quick incantation had it translated in a moment. She found the spell she was looking for.
“I’m sure that I won’t have to threaten you more to get the ingredients I need from your shelves will I?” she’d asked the poor owner. He’d nodded before fainting. Tara directed the minions to collect what she needed. They left the man alone, partly out of generosity because the book had been found, but mostly because they had already fed. Tara yearned to start, but the sun was rising fast. She would have to wait until the next night to begin.
“You find what you need, pet?” Spike asked when she returned.
“Yes. But I must ask a favor.”
“As long as I don’t have to prance around in a dress or nothin’, ask away.”
“I’ll need minions.”
“Those you can have, luv.”
She sighed. “No, not to fetch and carry. I must sacrifice them. I translated the text and it requires that others must give up their unlife so that Willow may have hers back.”
Spike took his time in considering her request. Tara only wished that he wouldn’t ask her to lie with him. Though he loved Drusilla deeply and with all of his unbeating heart, he occasionally dallied with other women. Tara knew if she were still human, she would probably be holding her breath.
“Fine. But let Dru in on it if it’s going to be bloody. Been too long since she’s had a good massacre.”
With that he left her alone. Tara relaxed and began to pick out which minions she would choose to begin the ritual.
Drusilla had danced in the blood and dust and magic. It did wonders for Tara to see her Sire smiling. But the six were not enough. She would need more.
“Poor dolly,” Drusilla crooned, reaching out to stripe Tara’s face with the sticky red fluid. “She’s lost her pretty girl. All gone to ashes now and Daddy is free.”
Tara leaned into the caress, wallowing in her Sire’s love. But how to get more minions? She drew back with a frown on her face only to see Drusilla with a secretive smile. Tara returned it. She knew that when she returned to the following evening there would be minions a plenty. And she would have her Willow back. She would not ask the how or why, confident in her Sire’s power despite the insanity.
Twelve more died, twelve more screamed as Drusilla danced. Spike joined in with the second six, waltzing with her Sire as Tara incanted words and worked her magic. The last six were the strongest of their minions; Tara needed that final little push to imbue her lover’s dust with unlife. The screams echoed, the blood flowing and the magic pulsing as the dust that had been Willow swirled around and around. At the edge of the circle Drusilla clapped.
“Oh, the pretty girl is coming. Our Master will be pleased. Spike! Spike, come and see!”
Tara managed to ignore it all as she drew upon all of her power to bring Willow back. The dust coalesced into form. As the last of the screams faded, a brilliant light blasted through their hide away, knocking them all over.
“Fuck! That better mean it worked!” Spike yelled.
Tara picked herself up from the floor, daring to look inside the circle. There she was, perfect and pale. “Willow,” she whispered.
The figure in the circle looked up, questioning. “Tara?”
Tara ran over to embrace Willow. “We’ll never be apart again. I promise you.”