FIC: Whither Thou Goest... Part 17/?

[PB <pbnj@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

Title: Whither Thou Goest...
Author: Pink Rabbit Productions
Archive: Pink Rabbit, A Slayer/A Hacker
Author's Notes: This is the latest sequel to Spin, Spinning, Spun Out, It
All Depends On Your Timing, and Interludis Neanderthalensis. It's not
finished, but I'm going to start posting in segments since it's getting
close to the end (probably).
Disclaimer: The characters and show all belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant
Enemy, Kuzui, and God only knows who else. This particular arrangement of
words in cyberspace belongs to me, however. Btw, it contains love between
two women, so if such things offend you, are illegal where you live or
somesuch, kindly don't read it and upset yourself, 'kay. It'll just make
life easier on all of us.
Spoilers: None that I can think of.
Rating: soft R -- for cursing, some violence, and such
Part: 17/? (yeah, I know the parts and the chapter numbers don't match
up--and they never will bwahahahahaha)

Whither Thou Goest...
Chapter Twelve (part 1)

Buffy was amazed she managed to remain upright as she pulled the door shut
behind her. She was trembling like a leaf in a high wind and wanted nothing
more than to go back inside and sink into Willow's hold. Despite the fears
that had plagued her after their lovemaking, with Willow she felt safe,
whole, like a part of something larger than herself.

Silently chastising herself, she consciously straightened her spine,
reminding herself of what she'd learned about her enemy. It was for the
best, necessary even, if she was going to keep her loved ones safe.

She was still standing there a moment later, when she became aware that
someone had come up behind her, and was clearing her throat softly--well,
actually, not that softly, since she managed to make herself heard over the
music blaring out of Buffy's room. The Slayer turned to look back over her
shoulder, and found herself being studied by a pair of intelligent dark
eyes. She tensed, noting shoulder length blond hair. Had DuCourvallier
decided to bring the fight to her? The newcomer was pretty in a sort of
girl next door way, but her clothes reeked of someone trying desperately
not to be noticed, and her manner was painfully shy, her gaze sliding away
the moment Buffy's made contact. She hardly fit the role of the deadly
killer demon. Then again, the Slayer had seen stranger things. And
certainly the vampire had fooled her mother into thinking she was just an
average coed.

Buffy's gaze became pointed, noting the steady movement of the girl's
chest--respiration--the fluttery pulse at her throat--a heartbeat--and the
thin sheen of moisture that dampened her skin--sweat. No vampire then. "May
I help you?"she questioned cautiously, still uncertain who or what she was
dealing with.

"I'm...uh...I'm sorry, I was ...um...I was looking for Willow Rosenberg's
room..." the girl said haltingly, then seemed to lose control over her
speech center as she babbled onward in explanation under the Slayer's
silent scrutiny. "I...we...uh...met...a couple of weeks ago...at a Wiccan
gathering...I-I just heard about the robbery...at the Twenty-Four/Seven. I
wanted to know...to know if-if she's okay...."

Buffy relaxed a fraction. A friend of Willow's--she hunted her memory,
trying to pull up anyone the hacker might have mentioned. "I'm her
roommate...Buffy Summers...."

"You're the girl who was there with her," the wiccan said in a rush, and
Buffy nodded

"Tara," the girl supplied as if she sensed the Slayer was searching her
memory for the information.

Buffy blinked as she remembered Willow mentioning a girl named Tara that
she'd met at the Wiccan gathering. She'd liked the girl, commenting on how
sweet she'd been, and remarking on her shyness too, leaving Buffy with the
feeling she was reminded of herself. "Right," she said. "She mentioned
you... said you're nice..."

For a moment, Buffy thought Tara was going to combust she glowed so
brightly at that brief bit of praise. Crushing and crushing bad, the Slayer
diagnosed in an instant. She felt a brief flicker of jealousy as she
wondered if Willow had noticed. " Don't worry," she assured the young
woman. "She's okay...just a little shook up...she's...uh...spending a few
days at her parents...." Buffy hoped Tara didn't know Willow too well, or
she'd pick up on that little lie, since the chances of Will going home for
tea and sympathy were slightly less than nonexistent.

But Tara only nodded after a moment. "I...uh...guess that makes sense...she
must have been pretty scared."

"Yeah," Buffy flinched as she remembered the experience. She still hadn't
had a chance to process it all. Just shoved it away in a mental closet with
everything else she'd never had time to process. One day that closet was
probably just going to explode and it wasn't likely to be a pretty sight.
"Scared..." she exhaled, staring blankly into the distance. The room behind
her was still pulsing with bad music, the screaming lead punker covering
Willow's yelling, while stereos and boom boxes were being turned up, up and
down the corridor. By morning, Buffy figured absently, there probably
wouldn't be a member of Stevenson left with any hearing. That was assuming
the walls were still standing.

Tara looked meaningfully at the door, her expression questioning.
"I...uh...I think you left your stereo on," she observed after a beat,
sensing the strangeness in Buffy's mood.

The Slayer glanced back as she shook free of her silent musings.
"Um...yeah...it's...um...for the fish...Willow's fish..." Oh boy, that's
lame, she chided herself silently, but having started the lie, she was
stuck with it, no matter how high Tara's brows climbed on her forehead.
"They like the music." Really, seriously lame. Get out now, before you
shove your foot any farther down your throat. "Ahm, look, I kind of
promised my mom I'd drop by...she's pretty shaken about the whole robbery
thing." That last part at least made sense. Most people's mother's would be
massively upset if their child was caught in the middle of an armed
robbery, not consider it a slow night.

"Yeah...I guess I can understand that..." Tara said hesitantly, pausing for
a long moment before continuing, "I-if you see Willow...would you tell her
I'm glad she's okay?" Again the young woman's eyes fell away, her skin
flushing with all the signs of embarrassment.

Oh boy, she has it bad. It startled Buffy to realize she couldn't even
dislike the other woman. There was something entirely too shy and gentle
about her to bear her any malice, especially since Buffy was pretty sure
Willow didn't return the emotions. "I'll tell her," she assured Tara. At
least, she would if she was still alive. "Like I said, I really do have to
go," she added after a beat.

Tara nodded, looking up at Buffy with eyes that seemed far too old for her
years. "Okay...thanks...." She squinted ever so slightly, the expression
giving the Slayer the strangest feeling she was being stared through rather
than at. "Be careful," She added after a beat.

Buffy nodded, her voice oddly choked as she responded, "Thanks." She turned
away to leave, even took a few steps, only to turn back. For reasons she
couldn't completely fathom, she wasn't surprised to find that Tara hadn't
moved an inch. She didn't even know what she was going to say before the
words left her mouth. "Look...Willow's fish...they need to be fed...in the
morning. That's when she always feeds them...in the morning...." It was
obviously Buffy's turn to babble, but then she wasn't thinking very clearly
. "I was going to come back and do it...but since you're here...." Buffy
offered a small shrug, trying to make light of the whole thing, so it
didn't seem like it was that important. "I was wondering if you would
mind?" She could see the hunger to please burning in the other girl's eyes.
Well, she was a better choice for letting Willow out of the handcuffs than
Todd, the floor RA--she didn't look like she'd enjoy it nearly as much as
Todd would, which was fine by Buffy--and since Buffy didn't dare call one
of the Scoobies--they would know something was up--Tara seemed like a
logical choice. And she had gentle eyes. It wasn't just what Buffy was sure
was a crush on Willow. There was something about her that seemed so caring.
"Y'know, stopping by and feeding Willow's fish...in the morning."

Her brows knitted in a puzzled frown, Tara nodded. "Sure...I can stop
by...to feed her fish...it's no problem."

Buffy fished into her pocket for her dorm key and handed it over to Tara,
hoping the girl hadn't noticed that her fingers were trembling ever so
slightly. "Thanks...I appreciate it." Tara was still staring at Buffy in a
way that made the Slayer wonder if the other girl knew something about what
was coming. If she did, she didn't mention it though, just took the key and
tucked it in her wallet. "See ya around." Buffy turned away, hurrying down
the hallway, the feeling of Tara's eyes on her back, an almost palpable
sensation. Strangely enough, she never doubted that she'd made the right
decision, and she didn't even know why.

* * * * * *

She shoved quarters into the phone, then dialed the number from memory,
waiting impatiently while it rang. Four rings, five rings, six rings. Eight
rings. Ten rings.

Still nothing.

She slammed the handset down, hooking her arm over the payphone as she
leaned deeper into the booth, momentarily escaping the sounds of traffic
and humans moving ignorantly through the night. Too little, too late. She
leaned her forehead against the cool surface of the phone, absently noting
the graffiti scratched into the coinbox as she tried to remember if she was
sane pretending to be crazy or the crazy pretending to sane. At times like
this, it all seemed to meld together. Moments later, she straightened and
moved on, moving through the dark streets; one more unnoticed wraith in a
city full of them. She glanced at the watch residing on her inner wrist.
Not so many hours left to go now. She couldn't help but wonder at the
sanity of giving the Slayer a warning and time to prepare. Now there was a
bad--possibly fatal--choice if ever there was one. She was still
considering her own stupidity when the voice reached her, ancient and
insinuating. The kind that could not be resisted, no matter how thoroughly
common sense dictated walking away.

"Learn what is to come." The accent was heavy and, with the distinct
dropped syllables and almost nonexistent R's of someone whose native
language was Mandarin Chinese.

Delaine slowly pivoted to face the old woman, dressed like something out of
a bad movie, the high necked silk sheath dress bright with twisting figures
of hand embroidered silk dragons and phoenixes, but she knew enough to
recognize the real thing behind the costume designed to appeal to ignorant
tourists. The woman was ancient, her white hair caught back from a wrinkled
and lined face, her figure no longer filling out the curves sewn into the
dress, leaving it to pillow out in odd ways. Jewelry hung in thick strands
from her neck, and every finger glittered with jewels, all of them costume,
except the one ring. She recognized the broad gold band with a simple opal.
A scrying stone, a way of seeing into other times and places. Green eyes
lifted and clashed with black, then she felt the woman's dark power as
something reached out and gripped her tightly.
"To understand the past is to know the future," the old woman continued
without missing a beat. "Nothing in life or death is accidental." A wizened
hand slid through the air and the vampire nearly collapsed as a bolt of
agony fired through her chest. "Everything lies within the realm of the
Book of Changes."

She tried to back away, shivering as though she was still capable of
feeling the cold. "I have no money to pay you," she nearly choked on the
words. A hand landed on her arm, guiding her toward the narrow door that
led into the woman's tiny shop where it resided between store fronts,
barely wider than most alleyways.

"There are many terms of barter...as you well know..." the fortune teller
whispered.

Strings of beads rattled against each other as they were pushed aside.
Delaine didn't mean to step through the hanging barrier, didn't intend
to...and yet...there she was, standing in the dully lit shop, the patterns
of the I-Ching lying before her, the lines of the trigrams sketched in
charcoal on the floor, while the musky smell of yarrow stalks filled the
air alongside the cloying scent of sandalwood. She tried to pull back, but
couldn't move as she stared at the patterns of the ancient Chinese method
of divination.

"You know the I-Ching," the old woman was speaking Mandarin now, the lyric
musicality of the language perversely threatening.

Delaine--already she had succumbed to the temptation to think of herself by
her birth name once again--folded her arms around her midsection, trying
again to back away, but the old woman's hand on her arm was implacable.
"Don't," she croaked, her voice dry and ragged. "You don't know...."

But the Chinese woman's voice was as obdurate as her grip. "It has the
power to see the future...and also to create it...as you were created...."
She waved her free hand and powder so fine it was like smoke filled the air
in front of the vampire as verbal images of her fate were laid out before her.

"The Judgement...If the superior man undertakes something and tries to
lead...he goes astray...follows...finds guidance...favorable to find
friends in the west and south...forego friends in the east and north...."

Delaine collapsed to her knees, barely aware of the door that slammed in
the old woman's wake. She was cold, so damn cold she could barely keep her
teeth from chattering. The words slid over her, sentences and phrases
running together as the old woman knitted her past and future together,
stitching power the way a seamstress had stitched her dress, mere snippets
slipping through to her conscious mind.

She was limp and unresisting as a withered hand dug into blond hair pulling
her head back, forcing to her face fathomless black eyes as the old woman
continued reading off a destiny that she could barely even comprehend.

"The Image... thunder within the earth...the Turning Point...kings of
antiquity closed the passes... at solstice...Merchants and strangers did
not go about...ruler...not travel through the provinces."

She was limp and unresisting as a withered hand dug into blond hair pulling
her head back, forcing to her face fathomless black eyes as the old woman
continued reading off a destiny that she could barely even comprehend.

"The Lines: Change at the beginning means: Return from a great distance. No
need for remorse."

And then she was released, falling forward to her hands, gasping for air
though she no longer needed to breathe.

"Change in the second place means: Straight, square, great. Without
purpose, Yet nothing remains unfurthered."

Somehow, she focused, concentrated on hearing the words, knowing she needed
them, running on instinct to simply survive.

"Change in the third place means: Hidden lines. One is able to remain
persevering. If by chance you are in the service of a king. Seek not works,
but bring to completion."

"Change in the fourth place means: Walking in the midst of others, One
returns alone."

"Change in the fifth place means: Noblehearted return. No remorse."

She folded into herself, trying to ignore the voices hammering in her head
as the prediction drew to a close while a gentle hand continued tenderly
petting her hair back from her brow.

"Change at the top means: Missing the return. Misfortune. Misfortune from
within and without. If armies are set marching in this way. One will in the
end suffer a great defeat. Disastrous for the ruler of the country. For ten
years, it will not be possible to attack again."

"No..." she hissed through clenched teeth, the words equal parts anger and
torment. The thing inside her body roared, furious at the power being
wielded against it, sweet features morphing to show its face to the world.

"The game goes on...and on..." her tormentor whispered, gesturing loosely
with one hand, filling the air with more pale smokey powder. "You are what
you are," that too-wise voice reminded her implacably. "And power suits,
online stock trading, and rental cars do not change that." She gripped
silky blond hair with an amazingly strong hand, wrenching Delaine's head
back with more ease than should have been possible now that the vampire was
fighting, the thing inside her raging and screaming. "You cannot run from
destiny, just as you cannot hide from it or bargain with it. It is what you
are." A finger trailed lightly along her cheek, the overlong pointed red
nail just scratching the flesh and trailing humanity in its wake as she
morphed back to her mortal form. "Destiny burns in you...you cannot escape
it..."

The vampire twisted her head, trying to see into the old woman's black
eyes, only to find herself staring at a young and unlined face, the dark
hair and blue eyes framing features that had been soft and loving in the
past, but now were hard and cold. When the blade was pressed against her
throat, it was almost a relief. "Because if you can't face reality, then
maybe we should just go ahead and end it."

Then she felt the knife cut deep, slicing through muscle, flesh, bone,
veins and arteries even as she pitched forward, the last gasp of air from
dead lungs whistling past her lips in barely audible syllables. "Elizabeth."

* * * * * *

--"If I was all that fond of real life, I would never have majored in theater"

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