Judgement

Rogue Demon Hunter

Sam Perlo-Freeman

This story is set about a month after the end of Season 6 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and setting in this story, which are the creation of Joss Whedon. I am merely borrowing them.

Thanks to Rachel Powell for beta-ing the story and for her comments and suggestions.

June 21^st 2002, Sunset

“Deep peace of the Running Wave to you, Deep peace of the Flowing Air to you, Deep peace of the Quiet Earth to you, Deep peace of the Shining Stars to you, Deep peace of the Gentle night to you. May the Moon and Stars pour their Healing Light on you. Deepest Peace of the Light of the World to you. Deep peace…”

The witches circled and danced round Willow, chanting their blessing as part of the powerful spell of protection they were weaving for her. The air was filled with the rich, pungent smell of the cedar and sandalwood they were burning in casting the circle. Four obsidian arrowheads were placed at the points of the compass, channeling protective energy into the circle.

This was the innermost of two circles, to ground and calm Willow, giving her some protection from the awesome forces that would be brought to bear as a result of the magic draining. The outer circle, which included Dragonwind, was to be the one to carry out the ritual itself. To them also fell the task of containing the magical energies that would be drawn from her. They had just begun to cast their circle, walking anticlockwise, as theirs was a spell of diminishment, while the inner circle moved clockwise for a spell of enhancement. The effect was almost hypnotic to Giles, who stood anxiously about 10 paces south from the outer circle - close enough to keep a view of Willow, but not too near to the epicentre of the forces about to be unleashed.

In the very middle Willow sat cross-legged, inside a pentatcle, facing west. Her hands, face and neck had been anointed with myrrh and stained red with juniper berries. It was clear she was at least somewhat nervous, but her face was hard set with determination.

The outer circle were completing their preparations. They presented quite a forbidding appearance, dressed all in black, each wearing a black tourmaline pendant to protect them from the energies their spell would call forth. At one end of the circle stood Dragonwind, bearing the athame, while at the other stood Shannon. She held aloft a large black orb of many faces, which seemed to draw the fading light into itself. Giles could not tell its construction. When Dragonwind reached the eastern point of the circle, she held up the athame, and the circle began to chant slowly as they walked round:

“We conjure thee O circle of power, that thou be as a boundary between the world of humans and the realms of the mighty ones. A guardian and a protection to preserve and contain the power that we shall raise within until such time as we choose to release it. Therefore do we bless and consecrate thee.”

The circle was complete, and the air around them seemed briefly to shimmer with power. This was no ordinary ritual they were undertaking, and the power to be contained was of a much greater order than for your average spell. Dragonwind, back at the eastern end of the circle, planted the athame in the ground below her.

The inner circle continued their blessing of peace throughout, as now the outer circle turned to face Shannon, who held the orb aloft, and spoke in her crisp, high voice,

“Goddess Isis, Mother of All, we call upon thee! Spirits of elemental power we call upon thee! Earth, Air, Fire and Water we call upon thee! Make ready this orb and imbue it with your vitality! Let it be a vessel strong and sure to receive and to hold the power that will be poured forth into it! Let no flaw weaken it! Let the bonds that hold each atom of crystal to the next be made firm, and let no power overwhelm it! This we pray!”

An Orb of Isis. A slight thrill went through Giles momentarily, then renewed concern. This was powerful magic indeed.

***

“Deep peace of the gentle night to you…”

Willow felt at peace. It seemed a very long time since she could truly say that. Times of happiness, but everything had got so confused. Not since before Buffy’s death, certainly, probably not since before Buffy’s mom’s death. Things had moved so fast since then. Willow thought of her own mother, whom she still spoke to about once a week, and who she still loved in a way, but who knew nothing of what her little girl had become. She’d told her she was going for a holiday in England. “Have a nice trip dear, bring back photos.” She smiled inwardly.

She gathered her thoughts again, and looked around her at the two circles of witches, and the wide, bleak moorland beyond them, shrouded in twilight. She felt at one with the earth beneath her and the sky above, in whose blue-black dusk the stars were beginning to be visible. In the west were still tinges of red as the sun reluctantly relinquished its last hold on the day. In the distance she heard the faint babble of a brook. She felt at one with it all. She centred herself, emptying her mind of all thoughts, focusing on the soft chanting of the inner circle. She was ready.

As the sun finally slipped beneath the horizon, the outer circle linked arms, the two next to Shannon placing their hands on her shoulders as she held out the Orb of Isis, and commenced a quiet low hum. After a few seconds, Dragonwind began to chant, slowly, rythmically, in a strange, harsh-sounding tongue, surely long-dead, but which seemed charged with power. Then Shannon replied in a cross-rhythm, 4-time to Dragonwind’s 6-time. The others continued their humming, harmonies emerging, resonances building up. As the volume gradually increased, Willow seemed to shudder, and the air in front of her shimmered … not with light, there was no light, but the air was disturbed with some sort of wave. If the light were better, dust could be seen to dance in it. The wave of magickal energy hovered briefly, then formed a beam which snaked its way slowly towards the Orb. When it reached it, the Orb buzzed and shifted slightly in Shannon’s hands.

Willow shuddered as she felt the spell’s impact. She could sense the power flowing forth from her, being drawn from her. It was an eerie sensation, and her stomach turned slightly, but she held her focus, maintained her centre. She concentrated on the black obsidian arrowhead in front of her, pointed inward towards her, and on the chanting of her protection circle.

***

Giles’ anxiety began to ease as he watched the spell begin to take effect, and as he saw Willow’s relaxed, even serene demeanour. He had felt so helpless, and it was a feeling he hated. He had last felt like this when Buffy had gone off to fight the Master, that is after he’d come round from being crocked by her. Of course whenever Buffy had gone out to fight, he had never forgot the possibility that she might not return, but he knew she was strong and capable - she was never safe, it was never OK, but he’d learnt to live with it.

Willow too possessed great strengths, but this was new territory. She said she was ready, but how could anyone truly be ready for something as unusual and as dangerous as this? They were sucking the magickal energy from every pore of her being. That would normally kill a person, as Willow had killed Rack (who, it turned out, had been over 150 years old, prolonging his life with the power he drew from others). She would have killed Giles too, had she followed through with the power drain, beyond the easily-accessible surface power lent him by the Coven. Even so it had been a near thing. But this ritual was carefully controlled to draw the power from her gradually. The elaborate protections were to enable her to centre herself, to hold onto herself as the magick ebbed from her, to prevent her from getting lost. So far it was working, her expression remained calm and resolute. Perhaps it would be OK.

***

The humming and chanting seemed to become louder and faster, and Willow could likewise feel the energy drain faster from her. Her skin tightened and her breathing became heavier. She felt a sensation not unlike pins and needles, as the spell reached deeper within her. Images began to flash before her, images from her early life. People, her mother and father, Xander, her first day at school. She held to her centre, she .. gave the energy permission to leave her.

The beam of energy seemed to buzz with a frequency that resonated with the humming of the spellcasters, and the Orb of Isis crackled. The air around the witches seemed close, as if a thuderstorm were about to break out. Tension began to rise amongst them, but Dragonwind and Shannon gave reassuring glances around, drawing their colleagues in and sharing strength.

Willow gritted her teeth, her face showing signs of stress, but still a firm resolution. The power within was stronger now, and she began to feel real pain, a searing heat - but also a cleansing heat, and she held on. She breathed slowly, deeply and deliberately, she tried to tune her ears to the blessing of peace, which seemed now to carry a note of urgency. She felt the spell dig deeper into her, probing her like a dentist’s tool, but she opened herself to it, let it do its work, ignoring the pain. She tried to focus on what she could see around her, against the images that were crowding her mind. They came thicker and faster, buffetting her - now they included images of pain and sorrow, of rejection, of fear, as well as the more positive ones. A whimper escaped her mouth.

She visualised herself in a storm in a forest, with the wind blowing around her, trying to blow her away, but she held onto the strong trunk of a tall tree. Her eyes watered and her ears rang, but she held on.

The witches in the outer circle too were feeling the strain, as they struggled to maintain their concentration and their humming and chanting. Shannon in particular was shaking with what looked like almost unbearable tension as she held out the Orb of Isis, and she struggled to keep her voice firm and even in her rhythmic chanting. The two either side of her held her firmly.

She let out a slight cry as the orb jumped in her hand and crackled, releasing a hooked, electrical bolt of energy, which crashed into the edge of the circle, then seemed to dissipate as it hit the powerful protections they had created. Concern and even alarm showed on some faces, but they heard Dragonwind speak in their minds, reassuring them, “It’s all right, this is to be expected. It is becoming more difficult, and there will be leaks such as that, but it is othing we can’t contain.”

Willow too heard Dragonwind’s voice, urging her to stay centred, not to resist, and she renewed her efforts to follow this. The power dug deeper, but her senses became numb to the pain, and she tried to shut the images out, deny them mastery over her. She closed her eyes, and held to her tree, as the storm rose - she could hear it whistle and roar in her ears.

The energy dug deeper into her, and though it was almost unbearable she held on. The images were joined with voices, so that now she could barely hear the chanting around her. A low moan escaped her lips.

More energy crackled from the Orb, and the circle of power shook and buckled as it absorbed the impact. The inner circle also struggled to maintain their composure as energy danced around them, but Dragonwind’s mind spoke again, “Not long! Hold firm, we are nearly done.”

Deeper and deeper into Willow’s soul the spell reached, and she could no longer separate herself from the images, the people, the voices, the events from her life - she saw herself in the circle with Tara, Xander and Anya, casting the ritual of Osiris to resurrect Buffy. She seemed to float above herself as she watched herself scream with pain, watched her skin cut and bleed, the snake burst forth from her mouth. She saw demon bikers, she saw the Urn smash, she saw the entity in the form of Buffy as she lay in bed, and heard its dire accusations, felt its hatred.

The spell cut deeper still, and reached a section of her mind that she had tried to close off from herself, a section that was too painful, that she was not yet ready fully to deal with. It reached this, it breached her barriers, cut them open, and let all that was within pour out.

The spell reached Tara.

She wept uncontrollably.

Then she began to see and feel other things, other images. Painful, hurtful images. Tara, brain-sucked, crying out in distress and confusion, as Glory’s evil wormed through her mind. The hurt on her face when they’d argued just before. The look of shock as the bullet hit her. Tara packing her bags and walking out of the house. The look she gave her when they got their memories back. Anger. Disgust. Tara’s voice echoed in her mind, crowding in on her all at once.

“What are you doing? Will?”

“God, what is wrong with you?!”

Willow called Tara’s name, anguished, questioning.

“I don't think this is gonna work.”

“Willow … your shirt!”

“It frightens me how powerful you're getting.”

“Willow, you are using too much magic.”

“Will, no, you can't!”

“Maybe that's how it started, but ... you're helping yourself now, fixing things to your liking. Including me.”

“Do you think I'm stupid? I know you used that spell on me.”

To what? Violate my mind like that? How could you, Willow? How could you after what Glory did to me?”

“Tara, NOOO!”

“How could you?”

She screamed, losing all grasp of reality, of the chanting, of the protection circle, the world around her. Her hold was shattered, and she blew away, dazed, through a sea of images, dazzling, garish light and raucous noise, blown by the wind. She saw Tara blow. Tara blew the wind. Tara was the wind.

Then, suddenly, all was quiet. Calm. Cold. She lay sprawled on a parched, cracked landscape. A cold sun in the sky beat down upon her. Tara stood before, dressed in black, that same look of disgust and anger on her face.

“How could you, Willow? After what Warren did to me? How could you do those things?”

“Tara, Tara….”

“What were you thinking? You think that would please me? Revenge? Is that what you think I wanted?,” Tara’s voice rose in anger, “Is that what you think of me? Is that what I meant to you?”

Willow cried out and beat the ground. Tara stepped up towards her.

“Is that how you honour my memory? Is that it? Do you think I can rest? DO YOU THINK I CAN REST??”

Her voice reached a fevered screech.

“WHY DID YOU BETRAY ME WILLOW?”

Then she drew from by her side a long, barbed chain attached to a handle which she held. She stood over Willow, raised the flail above her head and brought it down on Willow’s body. Willow cried in pain, and tried to move away. Tara struck her again.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Willow screamed and knelt upright. She screamed again, and drew power to herself, the power that had been ebbing from her she now drew back. She drew forth her arms and fired bolts of fiery energy at the terrible image of her lover that stood before her. The energy hit home, and the image shattered like glass.

***

The witches saw the change come over Willow. They saw the look of pained but firm resolution give way to horror. Saw her break down and weep, then call out incoherently, lost to them and engaged in some inner struggle.

The beam of energy flickered and began to lose coherence, scattering in several directions. No longer a dark wave, it crackled with eldritch light, scorching a man in the inner circle who cried out in pain. The energy hooked back towards the Orb, but some crashed against the magickal walls of the circle, causing it to shake and light up like a sheet of lightning. The spellcasters struggled to hold the circles together, to continue the spell, but it seemed to have developed a life of its own. They could see Willow fighting unconsciously against the spell, disturbing the flow of energy.

Then they heard her scream. Her scream brought in its wake a powerful jolt of magic. Caught by it face on, one of the witches of the protection circle was knocked backwards onto the ground, her hold on the woman to her right broken. The outer circle braced themselves against it and held on, and the magickal barrier juddered.

Then she screamed again, a prolonged, piercing scream of denial. She bolted upright, her face contorted with pain, grief and madness, and raised her arms. The magic that had been draining from her was abruptly reversed, flowing back into her fingers. Then it was cast forth in a massive burst of eldritch power, high into the air, lighting up the entire dome of the protective barrier. Bolts flew from the dome, crashing into the witches who cried out in surprise. The outer circle was broken as men and women fell to the ground. The Orb of Isis seemed to creak and moan in distress, and Shannon, supported by her two neighbours, desperately hugged it to herself, though it seemed to burn her with leaking power. Cracks began to appear in the barrier.

Willow stood now, arms outstretched, her mouth open in a scream, power arching from her upraised hands at the same time as it drained from her, the Orb now asserting its power independently of the witches. Magic swirled in all directions. Willow seemed to have no idea what she was doing, driven by forces she could not control. Her hair was jet black.

Giles, as he saw all this beginning, stepped closer and took off his glasses, alarm and concern growing on his face. “What’s happening?,” he called out, “Will somebody tell me what is happening? For God’s sake what are you doing to her?”

Dragonwind had been shouting out above the roar of the magick energy, first to Willow, telling her to stop fighting it, to regain her centre, but Willow was beyond hearing. Desperately, she tried to draw the circles back together, but was continually frustrated by new bursts of wild magic. She drew herself up to her full height and cried out some new spell at the top of her voice, and this seemed to pull the outer circle at least to themselves, focused them on her, so that they could reform. But the inner, protection circle was still in disarray, with one woman spreadeagled on the ground, stunned by the burst of energy that had hit her.

“We must hold together! The circle must not be breached!”

She had abandoned her mind speaking, lacking the focus.

“We must complete the ritual!” called out Forest, “We’ve got to get ourselves back together!”

“We can’t with Willow like this! The Orb is close to breaking point! If it bursts and releases its energy, the barrier will be shattered, we shall all be killed and the goddess knows what destruction may be wreaked!” replied Dragonwind

“You’ve got to help her!,” shouted Giles impotently, “For heavens sake!”

“What. Are. We. Going. To. Do.?” Yelled Shannon through gritted teeth, “I can’t hold this much longer!”

Dragonwind answered, “If Willow cannot be brought back soon, if the protection circle cannot be reformed, we must abandon the ritual! We must pull the inner circle back to join us, and put all our forces into containing the energy. We will have to push the barrier inside of us and just hold it together!”

“But Willow, all that power, “ said Forest, “without any protection or control … it’ll kill her!”

Dragonwind gave no answer.

Giles struggled to hear, but he caught the gist of it, and cried out in anger.

“What? What are you talking about? You fools, you can’t let that happen! You’ve got to let me help -“, and he ran towards the circle. He hit the barrier, and was thrown backwards onto the ground. He blacked out.

***

The ground beneath Willow began to shake. She struggled to pull herself to her feet. There was a roar, and the ground opened up beneath her, a huge chasm into which she fell, down, down, falling upright with arms outstretched. Around her, she heard Tara’s voice, reproaching her. Again she drew power, lashing out randomly. Then suddenly she was at the bottom, seemingly in a deep, huge underground cavern. She could not see the roof above her, and around her was rough, rocky ground as far as she could see.

Then Tara was there, dressed now in red. Willow ran. Tara followed, striding after her. Willow ran into a dark tunnel, but still she could hear Tara pursuing her. The ground continued to shake, and Willow drew upon all the power she could to stop herself being torn apart by the forces around her. She kept on running, losing all sense of time and space. She might have been running for hours, or for a fraction of a second.

Then Tara was in front of her, glowering, hands on hips. The ground shook again, and Willow lost her footing, falling on her back. Tara stood over her, her countenance hideous and distorted.

“You see what you did?, “ she said, quietly now, but full of venom, “Well now you’re gonna face the consequences. You think you’re gonna be redeemed from this? Forgiven? That they’re your friends out there? Well they’re not. They’re gonna punish you. Like you deserve. BITCH!”

Willow again released energy, and again the ground opened up beneath her and she fell.

“Tara,“ she murmured, “This … this isn’t you… it can’t be…”

She fell, and all around her seemed to be fire, and the fire burned her. Tara burned her and she could not escape. And the fire was her, Willow, was power, her power, and she spewed it forth in all directions as she fell. She could no longer hear, no longer see, there was only power, falling, and burning pain.

***

It was no use. Once, twice, the Coven had tried to pull themselves back into some semblance of order, but Willow’s wild flailings continued to scatter them. The woman who had been sent flying had got back up, only to be knocked down again. The air within the dome of the circle was alive with wild energy, and rents were beginning to appear in the surface.

Dragonwind prepared to give the order to pull out the protection circle.

***

And then a voice.

“Willow?”

A still, small voice, but clear and strong, cutting through the fire to her mind, to her heart. Washing over her like a cool, clear stream.

“Tara? Is it…? What…”

“Shh. It’s OK.”

She was no longer falling, no longer in the fire, but stood on open land, grassland. It was dark. She fell to her knees. Tara stood before her, a gentle smile on her face. Willow opened her mouth to speak, but Tara put her finger to her lips and smiled again.

“Just be quiet. Be still. All will be well. All manner of things will be well.”

Then she turned. Through her tears, Willow could now see the landscape around her, the rough heather and gorse of Dartmoor, and she could see the two circles of witches around her, and the hazy image of her dead girlfriend moving among them.

She fell forward on the ground and sobbed, but the nightmarish visions within her were gone, and she no longer drew or cast forth power. She heard voices from outside, and she felt the magick begin to drain from her again, cutting into her again, but no longer with the barbed edges that had torn her before. She felt herself swept along on a sea, waves rising under her carrying her along, but she no longer fought it, let herself be carried by the ocean. Power ebbed from within her, and she began to drift, her mind loosening, her heartbeat slowing. She span gently through a vast blackness and then knew no more.

***

None of them knew later when exactly she appeared. One moment there was just Willow inside the pentagram, and then she was there, the ghostly blond figure in green and blue. Those at the east could see her kind, soft features, as she seemed to speak to Willow, though they could not hear what she was saying. But suddenly, Willow stopped fighting, her arms fell by her sides, and she fell to the ground, weeping. Her hair began to return to its natural colour. The apparition put her finger over Willow’s mouth, seemed to speak again, then turned.

Giles came round, and gaped in amazement at what he saw, at first assuming his vision wasn’t quite right yet. He scrambled for his glasses. Tara, or her spirit at any rate, or so he presumed, walked over to the woman who lay prone on the ground, and took her hand, pulling her to her feet. She stretched out her other hand to the next person in the circle who gazed at her goggle eyed - Seonaid, a Scottish woman with whom Giles had briefly talked once, and who somehow reminded him of Willow - and grasped her hand, then pulled the two women together to link hands with each other, reforming the circle. Then she seemed to turn towards him, flashing him a slightly mischievous smile. Then she vanished.

Around them, energy still crackled and pressed against the edges of the circle, but it was easing off as the source dried up. The outer circle linked arms again, and renewed their ritual, as the inner circle once again took up the chant of peace. The magickal energy stabilised, and merged back into the beam, or wave, that flowed from Willow’s now sleeping form to the Orb, which pulsated and crackled occasionally, but no longer seemed in danger of breaking up. A short while later, Dragonwind raised her hand, and the others stopped. She drew from her robe a crooked stick with a serpent’s head, raised it high and nodded, whereupon both circles spoke in unison.

“God and Goddess hear us. Lords of light and darkness hear us. From your daughter here before, let mystick power flow no more. From the cosmos’ force arcane, ever severed be her name!”

Then she took the snake stick between her hands and snapped it in two. There was a brief report, like that of a pistol. Then silence. A wave of relief swept through all assembled.

“Is that it?” asked Giles.

***