These characters ain't mine.
The Watcher and the Witch -- Part II
Buffy
punched the door. "What the hell do we do now?"
"Swearing
profusely springs to mind," Xander remarked. "Will? You know about
these guys?"
Willow
rubbed her eyes, fighting for control. She gulped, nodding. "Yeah. They're
An'rata. Exiles. We talked about them just last month. I never expected to *use*
this information. . . "
"Why
did you let them take Tara?" Buffy demanded.
"There's
a rumour, Buffy," Willow said softly. "A rumour about the inhabitants
of the – of the place they come from. It's not quite another dimension. It's
hard to explain in English."
Buffy
sighed, frustrated. "Can you dumb it down for Idiot Buffy?"
"Don't
forget Idiot Xander," Xander contributed, grinning wildly. There was no
humour in his expression. Anya took his hand, patting it comfortingly.
Willow
winced. "I'm not trying to insult you. I guess it doesn't really
matter." She sat down on the couch, then shifted, placing a cushion behind
her lower back. Restlessly, she went to the other couch, but couldn't make
herself comfortable there either. She started pacing.
Buffy
frowned. "Sorry. I know that wasn't a dig."
"Yeah
– I'm just worried. Like you are," Willow agreed. "Look, Anya can
probably explain this as well as I can. She helped Giles translate a passage in
the D'nay Chronicles a couple weeks ago. Jump in if I miss anything, 'kay?"
Anya nodded. Willow continued. "They were a slave race. Created by magic
– genetic experiments, as far as we know. Exiled to a pocket of their
dimension because their masters had no use for them any more. They were too
vicious."
"And
this has *what* to do with me?" Buffy asked.
Willow
and Anya exchanged uneasy glances. Anya said, "Their masters were
vampires."
"Not
your average fangs & bad breath vampires, either," Willow sighed.
"Something weird. The books aren't clear."
****
Tara
woke up to pain. Her arm was folded under her, and her neck throbbed terribly.
"Careful," a voice told her softly. Giles' voice. She tried to free
her arm. Whatever was under her rocked violently, and she was nearly sick.
When
the rocking stopped and her vision cleared, Giles had his hands on her forearms,
supporting her. She smiled weakly in thanks, and looked around. They were in
some sort of net, suspended from a large tree branch over the side of a
mountain, next to a ledge. The ledge was about fifty feet long and ten feet
wide. The net was made of tough, fibrous, sticky strands. It looked almost
alive.
The
net had obviously been placed very carefully. It was on a huge tree which grew
from the edge of the flat part. Their branch was too far for them to swing over,
even if they were able to get out of the net.
She
looked down, and gulped. "Jagged rocks," she croaked. "Why did it
have to be jagged rocks?"
"I
know," Giles said wryly. "There aren't enough mountains with fluffy
pillows at the bottom."
"Where
are we?" she asked, shivering. The
wind blew her hair into her eyes.
He
pointed towards the flat part. It led to a cave set into the side of the
mountain. There was a heap of bones, some with meat still on them, outside the
cave. It stunk. Roughly a third of the mountain rose up above their heads.
"We're not in their dimension, which is a relief. This seems to be
an offshoot into our world, overlaid on our geography. I imagine the cave must
be the entry into their own realm."
"And
there's the exclusion circle," Tara realised, seeing an unnaturally perfect
circle of white sand around the edge of the ledge, continuing down the side of
the mountain, just taking in the trunk of their tree. Barely enough room for the
creatures to hang them up in their net. "So they can't leave this place.
They can't cross the circle, even in the air, except by magic."
"Which
we provided for them," Giles completed, rubbing his eyes. "Pity,
really."
"What
do we do now?" she asked in a small voice.
"Try
to remain calm," he said. He smiled at her kindly. "I know it's
difficult, and I'm concerned, too. We both know about the An'rata."
Tara
took in a deep breath. " 'Concerned' is an understatement, I think. I'm
terrified." He patted her arm inadequately. Attempting to distract herself,
she mused, "I wonder where we are?"
"I
think it's the Southern Hemisphere," Giles said, looking at the sun.
"Assuming the transit took as long as it felt like, and assuming that
way," he pointed, "is north, we're in the Southern Hemisphere. I
wonder what they want us for."
Tara
swallowed, trying to control her nausea. She indicated the pile of meat and
bones, smiling wryly. "Housekeeping?"
Giles
looked at her sharply, then grinned. "Good for you."
****
"I
think I got it," Willow said, stretching her shoulders. "Man, I hate
those spells."
Buffy
nodded, rubbing her neck. "So where is this magical, mystical place that we
have to travel to?"
Anya
and Xander started clearing away the ingredients – candles, incense, and a
globe – listening intently.
Willow
smiled a bemused sort of smile. "Mount Wellington. Tasmania,
Australia."
****
There
was a huge commotion inside the cave. A dozen An'rata flew out, calling and
chittering to one another. The leader settled down in front of them, on the
plateau. The others did dizzying circles around the net, some disturbingly
close.
"Ahh,"
the leader strutted. "My prize. My Slay-er and Watch-er."
"What
are you going to do?" Giles said arrogantly.
"Test
you," the leader told him. "Things we must know. Your abili-ties. How
you heal."
Tara
froze. That didn't sound good. Suddenly, the leader leaned forward and grabbed
her by the arm.
"We
not sure who you are. You have power. What kind?" His breath stank of
rotten meat. Her arm began to go numb. "I not sure. If you Slay-er, you
save."
Before
Tara could figure out what he meant, he gestured to one of the An'rata flying
around their net. The creature cackled, flew in closer, and sliced through the
bottom of the net.
Giles
fell out.
Tara
screamed. Time seemed to expand. Nightmarishly slow, her feet scrabbled for
purchase on the netting as she hung from the leader's grip on her arm. She
managed to hook her left arm around a loop, holding on with her right hand.
Giles. . .
.
. . grabbed the end of a strand, face stark white. Time sped up again. Tara
twisted herself out of the leader's claw and clambered down to the bottom of the
net. She could hear Giles breathing in harsh, short inhalations. His face was
contorted in pain, his knuckles bone-white on his tiny piece of rope – which
was beginning to fray. Carefully, she coiled two spare loops around her feet,
clutched another with her left hand, then hung from her knees, stretching her
right hand towards Giles.
The
world narrowed down to just the two of them. Tara was vaguely aware of the
An'rata flying around her, laughing and jeering, but all that mattered was
Giles. Grunting with effort, he strained his other hand up to hers. "I
won't let you fall," she told him intently.
