BtVS: Willow/Tara
Oct. 20th, 2013 06:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katleeptTitle: "Sweet Dreams, Dawnie"
Author: Pirate Turner
Rating: G
Summary:
Warnings: Femme Slash, Established Relationship
Word Count: 613
Date Written: 9 December, 2010
Disclaimer: Dawn and Buffy Summers, Tara, Willow Rosenberg, any other characters mentioned within, the Hellmouth, Sunnydale, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer are © & TM Joss Whedon and any other rightful owners, none of whom are the author; are used without permission; and may not be used without permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
The scream split the rare quietness in the Summers' household, and the two women who had been doing their best to ignore each other for the larger part of the day ran together to the bedroom of the youngest member of their makeshift family. "Dawnie!" Willow cried as she and Tara burst into the room. "What's wrong?"
"What happened?" Tara questioned, looking around for a Demon or Vampire.
Dawn was huddled in the middle of her bed with the covers pulled up to her chin. She rocked her trembling body as she looked up at the arguing couple. Wetness shimmered in the brown depths of her big, doelike eyes. She blinked hard as she fought down the tears that appeared to be ready to pour down her ashen face. "I -- I had a dream."
"Oh, honey," Willow crooned, walking to her, "not again." She sat on the bed and wrapped her arms around Dawn. "Everything's going to be okay, sweetheart," she said, stroking her long, brown hair and placing a gentle kiss upon her forehead.
"I just -- I miss her so much!" Dawn cried, her chin trembling.
"We all do," Willow assured her as Tara began to edge out of the room.
"And I know they're out there," Dawn began to babble, "and I know they want me, and I know it's just a matter of time before they -- before they kill us all!" She sobbed, and Tara stopped in place, her hand frozen upon the door knob.
"We're right here, Dawnie," Willow assured the frightened teenager, stroking her hair and back. "We're not going anywhere, and we're not going to let anybody hurt you."
Dawn sniffed and rubbed at her eyes. "I know, but . . . I'm still scared," she whispered. "I try not to be. I really do. I try to be brave like Buffy, but I -- I'm just me, and I'm scared!"
"I know, baby," Willow told her, wrapping her arms more fully around her and hugging her tightly. "We're scared too." Her green eyes lifted to the face of the woman she loved with all of her heart, no matter how much they fought. "Aren't we, Tara?"
Tara nodded slowly.
"Really?" Dawn asked, looking up at her to make certain that she wasn't going anywhere.
"Yes," Tara spoke quietly.
"But we have to go on, honey, and you have to go to school tomorrow."
Dawn shook her head. "I can't sleep! Not after that!" She shuddered for emphasis.
"What if I sleep with you . . . huh, I mean, that is . . . what if I sleep beside you?" Willow offered. "Will that help, if you're not alone, I mean?"
Dawn pursed her lips as she considered the redheaded Witch's offer and then slowly nodded. "Yes."
"Then I'll just tell you good night."
"No!" Dawn cried out before Tara could slip away. "They might get you! Stay," she pleaded, tears beginning to fill her eyes again. "Please stay."
Tara stifled a sigh. "Okay, Dawnie," she said. "For you, I will."
Minutes later, the trio were in bed, and Dawn snuggled quite happily between the couple's caring arms. The girlfriends thought Dawn asleep as they gazed silently into each other's eyes, their deep, emotional orbs speaking more volumes than mere words could ever sound. Willow made the first move, reaching out and timidly running her fingers along Tara's arm. Tara grasped her hand, and Dawn's satisfied smile was missed by both as the blonde Witch mouthed, "I'm sorry."
"Me too," Willow agreed silently. "I love you."
"I love you too," Tara answered just as quietly, and they fell asleep, holding hands and smiling above their little sister who'd been determined to see them happily back together again.
The End
Title: "At the End of Their Tomorrows"
Author: Pirate Turner
Rating: G
Summary:
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
She always thought they'd have tomorrow. She knew death was always a possibility, as long as she was friends with the Slayer, but she never really thought it would happen to them or, at least, not to her sweet, beautiful Tara. Willow was the one who brought danger to their relationship. She was the one who should've died, not Tara, and yet here she is, at the end of their tomorrows, the one still living.
She shuts her eyes tightly every time she goes to their bed, trying to stop the tears, but they always rain. She can fight them off most of the time around her friends, focus on revenge instead of what's really eating up her heart. But here, alone, laying underneath sheets that have so often been made wet with their love making, she can't stop the thoughts or tears.
It isn't right. It isn't fair. And yet, there's nothing she can do to make it right or turn back the clock. There's no way for her to give her lover back the tomorrows she should have had, to have the happy ending she always believed they would, or to give Tara back her life.
She knows what Tara would say. It isn't her fault, but it is. She should go on with her life, but she can't. Her life died with Tara, and all Willow wants to do is wail as she does every night in the privacy of the room that once held their paradise.
The End
Title: "The Other Side of Christianity"
Author: Pirate Turner
Dedicated to: All the Goths and Pagans who have been tormented, whether physically or emotionally, simply for being different
Rating: PG-13
Summary:
Disclaimer: Willow Rosenburg; Tara; Buffy Summers; Faith; Rupert Giles; Xander Harris; Anya; and Buffy the Vampire Slayer are © & TM their respective owners. Everything else is © & TM Pirate Turner. The author makes no profit off of this story.
Author's Note: I am not targeting Christians in this story but rather writing this piece for two reasons: to give a voice to all the Pagans and Goths who have been abused by Christians for being "evil" and/or "sick" and to give the good Christians a look at the evil Christians in the world. There's good and bad in everything, and that does include Christians. I'm not saying that all Christians are bad; after all, some of our dearest friends are Christians (hugs to Crow and the Pirate Twins Malloy). However, I'm also not just making this stuff up. Though I've lost contact with her since, I once befriended a Goth girl who had had one of the things that will happen to Tara in this fic happen to her and was then expelled for standing up for herself. There are many parents who have had their children taken away by the government just for being Pagans, and yes, that happens a lot in the so-called "Land of the Free", America.
For those BtVS fans who are still reading this, this story takes place in kind of an AU. Buffy, Willow, and Tara are in College. Faith never went evil though she is definitely borderline, as you'll see in this story.
The car sputtered along the highway, its driver slowly edging it on up the hill. "Come on," the redhead whispered, urging it forward, "don't die on me now." As fate would have it, it was at that exact second that the car did indeed give up. It sputtered to a stop, finally completely ceasing all operations with a loud Pop!
The redhead sighed, shook her head, and popped the hood. Both young women got out and hurried around to the front of the car. As the redhead lifted the hood, smoke sailed out at all directions. The two teenagers stumbled backwards, coughing and waving away the smoke.
"Know anything about cars?" the blonde asked.
The redhead shook her head. "Not a thing in the world," she admitted with a heavy sigh. She turned slowly, carefully scanning their surroundings. "Maybe there's a mechanic shop somewhere," she began to say only to end up sighing again and shaking her head. "Only a church."
The blonde followed the redhead's gaze only to see a large group of people gathered on the lush, green lawn of a beautiful church. "Maybe we should go ask them, Will? One might be able to help . . . "
"Do you think they would?" Willow asked doubtfully.
"I don't see why not."
Willow looked at her friend with a single raised eyebrow, and the blonde shrugged. "It's not written on our face, Will. Besides, we have to do something."
"Yeah, like call Xander." Willow turned back to the car, and the blonde shrugged before also turning back.
"Willow, I don't see why you won't give them a shot."
"Would you want a stranger to interrupt one of your rituals asking for help, Tara? Besides, what if they do find out some way?"
"Will," Tara said, reaching out and taking her lover's hands into her own, "you've got to stop worrying about how people might react to our being Witches." Neither realized that one of the young Christian men had been approaching them to offer his aid when Tara spoke. "First of all, they have no way to know just by looking at us. We're not wearing any jewelry, and it's not painted across our foreheads. Secondly, the Burning Times were centuries ago."
"I know," Willow said, "but there's still so much violence in the world that steams from religious prejudice. To ask them for help might be taking a huge risk, and . . ."
"Will," Tara said, gently interrupting her, "we live on the Hellmouth every day and fight its creatures every night. Every time we breathe in Sunnydale, we're taking a risk."
"I suppose you're right, but still . . . "
"Sweetheart, you've got to stop worrying so much." Tara reached up and brushed a gentle kiss across Willow's forehead. Witnessing that tender moment was enough for the young man who turned and raced back to the others.
"Okay," Willow finally relented. "We can go ask them."
Tara smiled, and then they started, hand in hand, toward the church. The man reached the others minutes before the two young Witches arrived. As they grew closer, Willow and Tara saw the Christians gathering tightly together and talking hurriedly. They witnessed the flurried hand movements and a few faces growing red. They arrived, focusing their attention on the man who seemed to be the Reverand just in time to miss a few of the women ushering the children inside the church.
"Excuse me, sir," Tara spoke up. "I know you all are about to have church, but we were hoping one of you could maybe give us a hand. Our car broke down, and we have . . . "
"Say no more, child," the preacher said. His voice was gentle, but he did not smile. "We know the Lord has sent you to us."
"Y-you do?" Willow asked hesitantly, her eyes flicking nervously over the congregation.
"Why, of course," the Reverand answered, his tone reassuring. "Everything happens for a reason, and your car has stopped before our church today to grant us the chance to help you."
"We certainly appreciate your taking a look at our car," Tara began only to be interrupted.
"It is not your car that needs fixing, my dears, but you yourselves."
"Excuse me?" Tara asked politely.
"Hum, Tara . . . " Willow started to say, only then realizing that they had been surrounded. She released her girlfriend's hand to turn around, looking in all directions, and swallowed hard as she saw that there was not a single opening in the crowd of Christians. "Tara!"
"The Lord showed Brother Johnson what you are, and he has told us. You are sick and need our help. We can fight the Devil off of you, free you from his chains . . . "
"We're already free," Willow snapped, realizing what was happening. "We don't need you to free us."
"Ah, but you do for you are followers of Satan! You are Witches and worse!" His eyes grew wide as he announced, "You bed one another!"
"What makes that any of your concern?" Willow demanded.
"The Lord has sent you to us so that we may help you; that makes you both our concerns! Let us help you!" the Reverand continued, raising his Bible as he came closer to the two. "Let us drive the Devil out of you and free you!"
"Hum . . . " Willow and Tara swallowed hard and exchanged a panicked look for just a split second. "How are you planning on doing that?" Willow demanded.
"By any means necessary." He placed his hand on the girl's forehead and began to chant strange words. Willow hurriedly backed away, and he bellowed, "Hold her so that I may cast the Devil out of her!"
Instantly upon the Reverand's command, two men rushed to pin Willow's arms to her side. She struggled madly against them, and Tara turned, punching one swiftly in the face before she could even realize that her fist would indeed connect. Two more rushed to grasp her. Willow, seeing the men grab her love, struggled even more violently against her captors until she managed to break free. Remembering the countless times she had watched Buffy fight, Willow turned swiftly and delivered two sharp kicks: one to one man's groin and the other to the other's stomach. She then moved to free Tara but was instantly grabbed by another Christian. The two continued to struggle against their captors, but it was a losing battle as they were soon forced to stop fighting.
The very instant they were stilled as much as possible, the Reverand again stepped up to Willow. He placed one hand on her forehead and held his Bible high as he again began to chant strange words that neither Witch recognized. When he was through chanting, he smiled down at Willow as he asked, "Who is your savior?"
"I don't need your Jesus," she hissed. "Hecate is my Goddess."
"Wrong answer," he commented as he struck her across the cheek. "Now, who is your savior?"
"Hecate is my Goddess."
Again, he struck her. "Who is your Savior?"
"Hecate is my Goddess."
He hit her a third time. "Who is your Savior?"
"Hecate is my Goddess," she repeated once more, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to well in her eyes from the pain that screamed through her body.
The routine continued -- the Reverand asking the same question, receiving the same answer time after time, and hitting the girl again and again as he hoped to beat his God into her -- until Willow's face was marred with bruises and blood spilled from her lips. "You bastard!" Tara cried out as Willow, who could barely talk by this time again repeated the same answer she had given him every time before.
Tara began to mutter a spell, hoping that her Goddess would hear her plea even though she had nothing to offer her. She called for the abuse to stop and pleaded for help to arrive. "Silence, you stupid Witch!" the Reverand roared as he heard her whispered words. When the spell turned into a prayer and Tara refused to be quiet, the Reverand struck her mouth so hard that her head snapped back.
Just as the blood began to pour from her mouth, a car pulled up, and Giles and Buffy jumped out. "Good God!" Giles exclaimed, horrified at the scene that he was met with. His eyes narrowed at the preacher. "Leave them be!" The Watcher began to step toward the Reverand only to have his way blocked by a line of Christian men.
"What business is this of yours?" the Reverand demanded.
"They're our friends," Buffy snapped, coming to stand beside her Watcher. "Release them and get out of our way or," the Slayer's tone dropped to a deadly warning, "be moved."
"It's going to be all right, Will," Tara whispered to her love.
Willow tried to smile, but her mouth hurt too much to lift upwards. Instead, she only managed a weak nod of agreement. Buffy was here; everything was going to be okay now.
"Leave us to our holy duty," the Reverand demanded. "These two are Witches, evil daughters of Satan, and must have the Devil driven out of them."
"This isn't the 17th century any more!" Buffy snapped even as Giles eyes widened even more.
"Holy?" he repeated, clearly aghast. Although he had heard of such preachers before, he had never had any of his close friends wounded by them. "How can torturing innocent children be holy?" he hissed.
"It is the Lord's work," one of the other Christian men spoke up, "and we will not let you interrupt it."
"Just try and stop us," Buffy ground out before kicking the first out of her way. Two took the one's place, but each was met with the Slayer's superior strength. As Buffy fought, Giles also made his way through the Christians. Working side by side as the well-trained team they were, Watcher and Slayer dodged every punch and forced each Christian out of their way until the Reverand was finally the only one left. "Leave him to me," Buffy told Giles. "You get Willow and Tara."
Giles hurried to help the two injured Witches to his car just as Buffy closed in on the preacher. "You really need to get your priorities straight," she told him. "I haven't been to church that much in my life, but I do know that a man who died on a cross to save all Earth's people from sin wouldn't want another man beating the hell out of two other people just because they were different from him."
"It's more than that," the Reverand exclaimed. "They are Witches and take pleasure in one another's flesh! They are evil!"
"Get this straight," Buffy ground out at him, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him to her so quickly that he released his hold on his Bible which fell to the ground. "I deal with Evil all the time. I've faced true Evil that was worse than anything you can even imagine and lived through it. Witches aren't Evil. Not all of them, any way. In fact, most of them aren't. Just because some one doesn't share your beiefs doesn't make them Evil." She glared at him in a mixture of disgustedness and anger before dropping him to the ground, walking off, and rejoining the others at Giles' car. Looking at Willow and Tara in concern, she hid the painful look that threatened to take over her face at the sight of her best friend in such enormous pain. "You two going to be okay?" she asked in true concern.
"We'll live," Tara managed, "thanks to the Goddess, you, and Giles."
Meanwhile, the preacher had scrambled to his knees, picked up his Bible, and was rushing towards them, hollering scripture verses at them the entire time. Looking over her shoulder, Buffy shook her head. "You have got to be kidding me!"
"Get in the car, Buffy."
"What about him?" she asked, jerking her thumb toward the Reverand.
"Unfortunately, he is technically human."
"But he -- "
"Buffy . . . "
"Getting in the car," the blonde Slayer muttered, shaking her head as she stepped in and shut her door. The car peeled away from the curb, leaving the Reverand still screaming at them.
"Oh my God!" Xander Harris exclaimed sharply as Giles and Buffy gently led Willow and Tara into The Magic Box. "What happened?"
Looking up from a catalog she had been flipping through, Anya asked, "New baddie?"
"What Demon ass do we get to kick?" Faith asked from where she sat with her feet propped up on the table while cleaning her crossbow.
"None," Buffy said as the three teenagers sat down and Giles busied himself with cleaning his glasses.
"Okay. What Vamp butt do we get to kick?"
"None. It wasn't anything Supernatural, Faith. Just a maniac Reverand who was trying to beat the evil out of them."
Faith's, Xander's, and Anya's heads all shot up. Silence reigned at first, but then Faith asked icily, "What?"
"You heard me." Buffy nodded solemnly.
"A preacher did that?!" Xander asked disbelievingly.
Anya shrugged. "I'm not surprised. Christians can get really ugly. Millions of people have been slaughtered in the name of the Catholic religion."
"They weren't Catholic but Baptist," Buffy told her, "and they were at that church out on Higdon's Hill."
Xander swallowed hard. "You mean it was Reverand Higdon?"
Buffy shrugged. "I guess. Why? Does the name ring a bell?"
"Yeah," he said. "I used to go to that church when I was little, but then my parents stopped going out there and dragging me with them to church." He shuddered at the thought that he had been so close to a human who could inflict such immense damage. Looking in concern at his best friend, he reached out a hand and gently covered Willow's. "How ya feeling, Will?"
"I've been better," she replied weakly.
"I need a volunteer to help bandage their wounds and apply the appropriate antibiotics," Giles spoke up.
"Normally, I'd be the first one to go 'euuw' at the thought of seeing injuries like that upclose," Xander spoke, "but I'm here for ya." He stood to join the librarian in preparing and then applying the medical aid to their friends' wounds.
"Let me get this straight," Faith spoke up. "The damn preacher beat the shit out of Willow and Tara because they're Witches . . . "
" . . . and in love with each other," Tara interjected.
" . . . and you're just going to let him go?" Faith finished, staring at Buffy and Giles in disbelief.
"He's a human, Faith," Giles gently spoke.
"I told him off, and we beat up his men," Buffy added with a slight shrug.
"And that's just it?!" Faith said, speaking each word slowly as the realization sank into her. "You tell him off, beat up his men, and think that's going to teach him his lesson?!"
"He's a human, Faith," Buffy said in way of explaination.
"And that gives him a Get Out of Jail free card?" Xander asked.
"Xander!" Buffy admonished.
The Zeppo shrugged. "I can just kinda see where she's going with this."
"Shut up, Harris," Faith said, standing. "I don't need or want your help." Her eyes narrowed at Buffy. "You think this is going to stop him? Think again. I've seen his kind before. This is just the beginning. They've found their targets now, and they won't rest until they've either destoryed or converted them." With that said, she turned, sending one last glance at Willow and Tara, and then stalked out of The Magic Box.
"Faith!" Buffy exclaimed, starting to rush after her.
"Don't," Giles' simple command stopped her. "Give her time to cool off."
A few days passed, and Willow's and Tara's injuries began to slowly heal. When they returned to college, however, they found that most of the other students and even a few of the faculty seemed to purposefully steer away from them. When they invited one of their old friends to sit with them for lunch, she sniffed and said, "I don't think so. I really don't want any spells worked on me. Sorry if you wanted me to be your guinea pig." She then turned and walked away, ignoring Willow's and Tara's protests.
"I told you it was risky," Willow commented softly as she sat down and began to eat.
"I know," Tara said, "but I never dreamed Christians could still be that cruel." She looked into her love's eyes as she said softly, "I'm so sorry, Willow."
"For what?" Willow asked, startled. "Tara," she continued, shaking her head fervently, "this isn't your fault."
"Isn't it?" she asked. "I'm the one that insisted on asking for their help."
"You just wanted to get the car back on the road, and who could have known that it would be more dangerous to ask Christians for help than to walk through Sunnydale at night? The sun was setting."
"True, but still . . . "
"No but's," Willow said firmly but gently nonetheless. She reached over and gently took Tara's hands in her own. "Tara, look at me." Catching her love's eyes and keeping eye contact with her, she said, "Neither of us had any way to know that a simple request for help could lead to so terrible an ordeal. It wasn't your fault. Please don't blame yourself for it."
Tara smiled sadly, but before she could answer, one of the more popular female students on the campus walked up to them, approaching their table from behind Tara. Willow looked up at her with a smile. "Can we help you?" she asked.
"No," the popular girl spoke coldly, "but maybe I can help you." The girl raised her arm, but Willow could not see what she held until the other girl stuck the lit match to Tara's hair.
"TARA!" Willow screamed as the fire caught quickly.
"Willow, it's suddenly getting very hot. . . " Tara's voice trailed off as she realized what had happened. The blonde jumped to her feet, screaming as she began slapping herself in the back of her head, frantically trying to put out the fire.
Thinking of the only thing that might put out the fire that she could, Willow snatched up her bottled water, swiftly unscrewed its lid, and poured the water onto Tara's hair. The fire fizzled at first and then died out, and the couple turned to face the laughing girl. "HOW DARE YOU SET HER ON FIRE!" Willow yelled, fury flooding her soul, as she rushed at the girl and hit her so hard that she was knocked to the ground.
"You were what?!" Giles asked in disbelief, his voice raising the few decibels needed for Faith to be able to hear him as she walked into The Magic Box.
The Slayer silently edged closer to the back door of the shop just in time to hear Willow repeat, "Expelled."
"And what of the girl?"
The redhead shrugged. "She got off completely free. It appears I shouldn't have been antagonizing her by worshiping the Devil."
"But she set Tara's hair on fire!" Anya exclaimed.
"Believe me, I know!" Willow exclaimed. "That's why I hit her."
"She should at least be expelled," Giles protested.
"I know," Willow again agreed, "but it doesn't do any good to tell the school board that. She's a doctor's daughter, a honor roll student, and sings in the choir at Higdon's church."
The door to The Magic Box slammed, and Willow looked up at Giles and Anya. "Did you hear something?"
"Customer," Anya decided. "Apparently one that's not too happy. I'll get it." She went out into the foyer, plastering a bright smile over her face, but found no one in sight.
The doors of the church kicked open, and a young woman dressed in tight, black leather strolled confidently into the church. It was not her attire that drew the startled and terrified gasps but rather the loaded crossbow that she wielded. "Nobody moves," she warned, her voice low, cold, and deadly.
"May -- May we help you?" the man behind the pulpit stammered out.
Faith's dark eyes narrowed into dangerous slits as she examined him. "You Reverand Higdon?" she asked.
"Y-Yes."
"Good," she snarled out. "You're the one I came here looking for."
"I . . . I am?" he asked, his eyes wide as she continued to approach him.
"Yeah. I've heard you've been terrorizing some girls around here lately."
"I assure you, madam," he said, swelling with self-pride despite the crossbow the stranger held in her arms, "that I have done absolutely nothing of the sort. I am a man of God and do only what the Lord tells me to do."
"And he told you to beat the shit outta Witches and gays?" she snarled out, her eyes narrowing even more.
"Is that what this is about? Those two Satanists?" the preacher demanded.
"And the others," Faith stated. Although she did not have the facts, there was absolutely no doubt in the Slayer's mind that the church had not treated others that did not share their beliefs the same way they had treated Willow and Tara. "Just because some one doesn't share your beliefs doesn't make them evil or Satanists. They're not Satanists or evil, but they are Witches."
"You know," the Reverand remarked with surprising casualty, "I seem to recall the little blonde and her father who prevented the Lord's work from being done saying about the same thing, but you are all wrong. The Lord shows us those who need our help, and we help them to accept Him."
"By beating the shit out of them?"
"By whatever means necessary, and you really should watch your tongue while in the Lord's house, young lady," the Reverand told the Slayer just as she came to stand directly before his pulpit.
"Oh," Faith commented coldly, shaking her head, as she pointed the readied arrow in her crossbow directly at the Reverand, "you really don't want to tell me what to do right now."
"If it is my fate to die for the work I have given the Lord," the Reverand bravely announced, "then so be it. I have lived a long and full life, and a reward awaits me in Heaven that is greater than any one of your Devil-worshipping caliber could ever begin to understand."
"Maybe you're ready to do the ultimate for your God," Faith remarked, "but that doesn't mean that your followers are ready to follow you that far. There's no excuse for what you've been doing to those two on Sunday and the others like them. You hide behind your Bible and your God, but what about that old Golden Rule that came from the Bible? Do unto others what you would have them do unto you?"
"Ah, but He also said that thou shall not suffer a Witch to live."
Faith's eyes narrowed even tighter, and a new sheet of ice wrapped around her heart. "You telling me that you've actually killed people just because they followed a different religion?" When the Reverand hesitated, Faith kicked his pulpit aside, and as it went spinning a few feet across the floor, she pressed the arrow's tip against the preacher's throat. "Answer me," she growled, her dark eyes flashing furiously.
The preacher struggled to hide his fear as he answered, "If they would not accept Jesus Christ as their savior, then yes, I put them out of their own misery."
At the Reverand's truthful answer, many startled gasps erupted from his congregation. Without looking back at them, Faith spoke, "There you have it, peeps. All this time you've been going to this church, you've been following a murderer. He already kills Pagans just because they're of a different religious belief. Do you really think he stops at Pagans? What about Jews? Muslims? Buddhists? They're not Christians. But does that make it right for him to kill them?"
"What about those of you with kids?" she continued. "What if your child grows up and finds a different religion? Would that make them evil? Would that give Higdon a right to kill your child?" The Slayer could already hear several hurried footsteps as parents rushed their children out of the church.
Faith made no move to stop the ones that were leaving. Instead, she continued, "You claim to follow a man who was willingly cruxified in order for all humans to be rid of sin. I'm no Christian, but I've still gotta think that a man with that kind of balls and heart -- even if he didn't have much brains to be dying for strangers -- would have more compassion than to be attacking, not to mention slaughtering, people who thought differently than he did. You really think your beloved Jesus would approve of what your've been doing? He said to turn the other cheek when attacked. I never heard of him saying to attack, and I'm willing to bet none of you did, either.
"We live in a land that was originally founded fer freedom, freedom of everything from speech to religion. Not a single one of your people began in this land. Every one of you can trace your family history back to whenever your people first came to America, and I betcha that somewhere in the list of the reasons they came was freedom. Are you willing to keep beating the crap out of innocent people just to get them to give up their freedom when your own family once struggled so hard to achieve the same thing?"
"This is totally against my gut instinct," Faith admitted as she concluded her speech, "but I'm gonna give you all a chance to get the Hell outta here." Her eyes narrowed again at the preacher as she added in a low snarl, "'Cept you." Then speaking to where all could hear once more, Faith finished, "If you're here when I turn around, your'll going down with your preacher. Otherwise, your freedom's just outside that door. Your'll never be free from what your've done and allowed to happen, but your'll at least be free from me."
In two fluid movements that were faster than the preacher could even blink, Faith whirled, moving her crossbow away from him and pinning him by his neck to the crook of her arm, to face the now-empty pews. "Ya don't see anybody there," she told him. "You're alone."
"I'm never alone," the Reverand replied. "The Lord is always with me."
"You really think He's still watching your back after all the evil your've done?" When he started to speak, she tightened her grip on him and cut him off. "I don't wanna hear any of your bullshit. You think your God's still looking out for you after everything your've done, supposedly in His name? All the innocents you've beat to within an inch of their lives, all the lives you've ruined, all the murders you've committed, and you're still sick enough to think that you've done it all 'cause He wanted you to? Maybe some might buy that, but I don't."
"You know, Buffy couldn't kill you 'cause she thought you were still human, but she was wrong. I don't know what the Hell you are, but I do know that if I let you go today, you'll just gonna continue all the evil you've already been doing. If I release you today, there's no telling how many more innocents you'll kill just 'cause they don't follow the same God you do and you think they're evil 'cause they don't share your beliefs."
The Slayer looked down into the Reverand's frightened face. She knew that every wrinkle in his face represented his old age, and she thought of how many Witches he had killed that would never reach his age. "I can't let that happen," she said with a slight shrug of her muscular shoulders. "Maybe in your next life you won't be so much of a murdering maniac."
"You tortured all those people you killed before you killed them. I could do that to you. I could trap you here, burn down the place. I could beat you to a bloody pulp, trying to get you to denounce your God, but I'm not gonna do any of that. You better be finishing up your last prayer, though, 'cause I can't let you walk outta here to continue your evil."
Seconds ticked by as she allowed him time to finish whatever thoughts he might have been thinking, and then, in one swift movement, Faith snapped the preacher's neck. She let his carcass drop to the floor and walked off, never looking back. As she walked through the empty and eeriely quiet church, she thought of all the blood he had put on others' hands, all the Witches and gays he had tortured, all the Witches he had killed, and finally she thought of how his sick, warped mind had hid all his evil doings underneath the label of the Christian's God's work. His blood was on her hands now, but at least no one else would die because of him. Faith walked solemnly out of the church. Her dark eyes darted around the lawn, but no one had dared to stay. The Slayer continued on into the familiar, welcoming shadows of the dark night.
The End
Author: Pirate Turner
Rating: G
Summary:
Warnings: Femme Slash, Established Relationship
Word Count: 613
Date Written: 9 December, 2010
Disclaimer: Dawn and Buffy Summers, Tara, Willow Rosenberg, any other characters mentioned within, the Hellmouth, Sunnydale, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer are © & TM Joss Whedon and any other rightful owners, none of whom are the author; are used without permission; and may not be used without permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
The scream split the rare quietness in the Summers' household, and the two women who had been doing their best to ignore each other for the larger part of the day ran together to the bedroom of the youngest member of their makeshift family. "Dawnie!" Willow cried as she and Tara burst into the room. "What's wrong?"
"What happened?" Tara questioned, looking around for a Demon or Vampire.
Dawn was huddled in the middle of her bed with the covers pulled up to her chin. She rocked her trembling body as she looked up at the arguing couple. Wetness shimmered in the brown depths of her big, doelike eyes. She blinked hard as she fought down the tears that appeared to be ready to pour down her ashen face. "I -- I had a dream."
"Oh, honey," Willow crooned, walking to her, "not again." She sat on the bed and wrapped her arms around Dawn. "Everything's going to be okay, sweetheart," she said, stroking her long, brown hair and placing a gentle kiss upon her forehead.
"I just -- I miss her so much!" Dawn cried, her chin trembling.
"We all do," Willow assured her as Tara began to edge out of the room.
"And I know they're out there," Dawn began to babble, "and I know they want me, and I know it's just a matter of time before they -- before they kill us all!" She sobbed, and Tara stopped in place, her hand frozen upon the door knob.
"We're right here, Dawnie," Willow assured the frightened teenager, stroking her hair and back. "We're not going anywhere, and we're not going to let anybody hurt you."
Dawn sniffed and rubbed at her eyes. "I know, but . . . I'm still scared," she whispered. "I try not to be. I really do. I try to be brave like Buffy, but I -- I'm just me, and I'm scared!"
"I know, baby," Willow told her, wrapping her arms more fully around her and hugging her tightly. "We're scared too." Her green eyes lifted to the face of the woman she loved with all of her heart, no matter how much they fought. "Aren't we, Tara?"
Tara nodded slowly.
"Really?" Dawn asked, looking up at her to make certain that she wasn't going anywhere.
"Yes," Tara spoke quietly.
"But we have to go on, honey, and you have to go to school tomorrow."
Dawn shook her head. "I can't sleep! Not after that!" She shuddered for emphasis.
"What if I sleep with you . . . huh, I mean, that is . . . what if I sleep beside you?" Willow offered. "Will that help, if you're not alone, I mean?"
Dawn pursed her lips as she considered the redheaded Witch's offer and then slowly nodded. "Yes."
"Then I'll just tell you good night."
"No!" Dawn cried out before Tara could slip away. "They might get you! Stay," she pleaded, tears beginning to fill her eyes again. "Please stay."
Tara stifled a sigh. "Okay, Dawnie," she said. "For you, I will."
Minutes later, the trio were in bed, and Dawn snuggled quite happily between the couple's caring arms. The girlfriends thought Dawn asleep as they gazed silently into each other's eyes, their deep, emotional orbs speaking more volumes than mere words could ever sound. Willow made the first move, reaching out and timidly running her fingers along Tara's arm. Tara grasped her hand, and Dawn's satisfied smile was missed by both as the blonde Witch mouthed, "I'm sorry."
"Me too," Willow agreed silently. "I love you."
"I love you too," Tara answered just as quietly, and they fell asleep, holding hands and smiling above their little sister who'd been determined to see them happily back together again.
The End
Title: "At the End of Their Tomorrows"
Author: Pirate Turner
Rating: G
Summary:
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, codenames, places, items, fandoms, titles, and etc. are always © & TM their respective owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Any and all original characters and everything else is © & TM the author and may not be reproduced in any way without the author's express, written permission. The author makes absolutely no profit off of this work of fan fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
She always thought they'd have tomorrow. She knew death was always a possibility, as long as she was friends with the Slayer, but she never really thought it would happen to them or, at least, not to her sweet, beautiful Tara. Willow was the one who brought danger to their relationship. She was the one who should've died, not Tara, and yet here she is, at the end of their tomorrows, the one still living.
She shuts her eyes tightly every time she goes to their bed, trying to stop the tears, but they always rain. She can fight them off most of the time around her friends, focus on revenge instead of what's really eating up her heart. But here, alone, laying underneath sheets that have so often been made wet with their love making, she can't stop the thoughts or tears.
It isn't right. It isn't fair. And yet, there's nothing she can do to make it right or turn back the clock. There's no way for her to give her lover back the tomorrows she should have had, to have the happy ending she always believed they would, or to give Tara back her life.
She knows what Tara would say. It isn't her fault, but it is. She should go on with her life, but she can't. Her life died with Tara, and all Willow wants to do is wail as she does every night in the privacy of the room that once held their paradise.
The End
Title: "The Other Side of Christianity"
Author: Pirate Turner
Dedicated to: All the Goths and Pagans who have been tormented, whether physically or emotionally, simply for being different
Rating: PG-13
Summary:
Disclaimer: Willow Rosenburg; Tara; Buffy Summers; Faith; Rupert Giles; Xander Harris; Anya; and Buffy the Vampire Slayer are © & TM their respective owners. Everything else is © & TM Pirate Turner. The author makes no profit off of this story.
Author's Note: I am not targeting Christians in this story but rather writing this piece for two reasons: to give a voice to all the Pagans and Goths who have been abused by Christians for being "evil" and/or "sick" and to give the good Christians a look at the evil Christians in the world. There's good and bad in everything, and that does include Christians. I'm not saying that all Christians are bad; after all, some of our dearest friends are Christians (hugs to Crow and the Pirate Twins Malloy). However, I'm also not just making this stuff up. Though I've lost contact with her since, I once befriended a Goth girl who had had one of the things that will happen to Tara in this fic happen to her and was then expelled for standing up for herself. There are many parents who have had their children taken away by the government just for being Pagans, and yes, that happens a lot in the so-called "Land of the Free", America.
For those BtVS fans who are still reading this, this story takes place in kind of an AU. Buffy, Willow, and Tara are in College. Faith never went evil though she is definitely borderline, as you'll see in this story.
The car sputtered along the highway, its driver slowly edging it on up the hill. "Come on," the redhead whispered, urging it forward, "don't die on me now." As fate would have it, it was at that exact second that the car did indeed give up. It sputtered to a stop, finally completely ceasing all operations with a loud Pop!
The redhead sighed, shook her head, and popped the hood. Both young women got out and hurried around to the front of the car. As the redhead lifted the hood, smoke sailed out at all directions. The two teenagers stumbled backwards, coughing and waving away the smoke.
"Know anything about cars?" the blonde asked.
The redhead shook her head. "Not a thing in the world," she admitted with a heavy sigh. She turned slowly, carefully scanning their surroundings. "Maybe there's a mechanic shop somewhere," she began to say only to end up sighing again and shaking her head. "Only a church."
The blonde followed the redhead's gaze only to see a large group of people gathered on the lush, green lawn of a beautiful church. "Maybe we should go ask them, Will? One might be able to help . . . "
"Do you think they would?" Willow asked doubtfully.
"I don't see why not."
Willow looked at her friend with a single raised eyebrow, and the blonde shrugged. "It's not written on our face, Will. Besides, we have to do something."
"Yeah, like call Xander." Willow turned back to the car, and the blonde shrugged before also turning back.
"Willow, I don't see why you won't give them a shot."
"Would you want a stranger to interrupt one of your rituals asking for help, Tara? Besides, what if they do find out some way?"
"Will," Tara said, reaching out and taking her lover's hands into her own, "you've got to stop worrying about how people might react to our being Witches." Neither realized that one of the young Christian men had been approaching them to offer his aid when Tara spoke. "First of all, they have no way to know just by looking at us. We're not wearing any jewelry, and it's not painted across our foreheads. Secondly, the Burning Times were centuries ago."
"I know," Willow said, "but there's still so much violence in the world that steams from religious prejudice. To ask them for help might be taking a huge risk, and . . ."
"Will," Tara said, gently interrupting her, "we live on the Hellmouth every day and fight its creatures every night. Every time we breathe in Sunnydale, we're taking a risk."
"I suppose you're right, but still . . . "
"Sweetheart, you've got to stop worrying so much." Tara reached up and brushed a gentle kiss across Willow's forehead. Witnessing that tender moment was enough for the young man who turned and raced back to the others.
"Okay," Willow finally relented. "We can go ask them."
Tara smiled, and then they started, hand in hand, toward the church. The man reached the others minutes before the two young Witches arrived. As they grew closer, Willow and Tara saw the Christians gathering tightly together and talking hurriedly. They witnessed the flurried hand movements and a few faces growing red. They arrived, focusing their attention on the man who seemed to be the Reverand just in time to miss a few of the women ushering the children inside the church.
"Excuse me, sir," Tara spoke up. "I know you all are about to have church, but we were hoping one of you could maybe give us a hand. Our car broke down, and we have . . . "
"Say no more, child," the preacher said. His voice was gentle, but he did not smile. "We know the Lord has sent you to us."
"Y-you do?" Willow asked hesitantly, her eyes flicking nervously over the congregation.
"Why, of course," the Reverand answered, his tone reassuring. "Everything happens for a reason, and your car has stopped before our church today to grant us the chance to help you."
"We certainly appreciate your taking a look at our car," Tara began only to be interrupted.
"It is not your car that needs fixing, my dears, but you yourselves."
"Excuse me?" Tara asked politely.
"Hum, Tara . . . " Willow started to say, only then realizing that they had been surrounded. She released her girlfriend's hand to turn around, looking in all directions, and swallowed hard as she saw that there was not a single opening in the crowd of Christians. "Tara!"
"The Lord showed Brother Johnson what you are, and he has told us. You are sick and need our help. We can fight the Devil off of you, free you from his chains . . . "
"We're already free," Willow snapped, realizing what was happening. "We don't need you to free us."
"Ah, but you do for you are followers of Satan! You are Witches and worse!" His eyes grew wide as he announced, "You bed one another!"
"What makes that any of your concern?" Willow demanded.
"The Lord has sent you to us so that we may help you; that makes you both our concerns! Let us help you!" the Reverand continued, raising his Bible as he came closer to the two. "Let us drive the Devil out of you and free you!"
"Hum . . . " Willow and Tara swallowed hard and exchanged a panicked look for just a split second. "How are you planning on doing that?" Willow demanded.
"By any means necessary." He placed his hand on the girl's forehead and began to chant strange words. Willow hurriedly backed away, and he bellowed, "Hold her so that I may cast the Devil out of her!"
Instantly upon the Reverand's command, two men rushed to pin Willow's arms to her side. She struggled madly against them, and Tara turned, punching one swiftly in the face before she could even realize that her fist would indeed connect. Two more rushed to grasp her. Willow, seeing the men grab her love, struggled even more violently against her captors until she managed to break free. Remembering the countless times she had watched Buffy fight, Willow turned swiftly and delivered two sharp kicks: one to one man's groin and the other to the other's stomach. She then moved to free Tara but was instantly grabbed by another Christian. The two continued to struggle against their captors, but it was a losing battle as they were soon forced to stop fighting.
The very instant they were stilled as much as possible, the Reverand again stepped up to Willow. He placed one hand on her forehead and held his Bible high as he again began to chant strange words that neither Witch recognized. When he was through chanting, he smiled down at Willow as he asked, "Who is your savior?"
"I don't need your Jesus," she hissed. "Hecate is my Goddess."
"Wrong answer," he commented as he struck her across the cheek. "Now, who is your savior?"
"Hecate is my Goddess."
Again, he struck her. "Who is your Savior?"
"Hecate is my Goddess."
He hit her a third time. "Who is your Savior?"
"Hecate is my Goddess," she repeated once more, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to well in her eyes from the pain that screamed through her body.
The routine continued -- the Reverand asking the same question, receiving the same answer time after time, and hitting the girl again and again as he hoped to beat his God into her -- until Willow's face was marred with bruises and blood spilled from her lips. "You bastard!" Tara cried out as Willow, who could barely talk by this time again repeated the same answer she had given him every time before.
Tara began to mutter a spell, hoping that her Goddess would hear her plea even though she had nothing to offer her. She called for the abuse to stop and pleaded for help to arrive. "Silence, you stupid Witch!" the Reverand roared as he heard her whispered words. When the spell turned into a prayer and Tara refused to be quiet, the Reverand struck her mouth so hard that her head snapped back.
Just as the blood began to pour from her mouth, a car pulled up, and Giles and Buffy jumped out. "Good God!" Giles exclaimed, horrified at the scene that he was met with. His eyes narrowed at the preacher. "Leave them be!" The Watcher began to step toward the Reverand only to have his way blocked by a line of Christian men.
"What business is this of yours?" the Reverand demanded.
"They're our friends," Buffy snapped, coming to stand beside her Watcher. "Release them and get out of our way or," the Slayer's tone dropped to a deadly warning, "be moved."
"It's going to be all right, Will," Tara whispered to her love.
Willow tried to smile, but her mouth hurt too much to lift upwards. Instead, she only managed a weak nod of agreement. Buffy was here; everything was going to be okay now.
"Leave us to our holy duty," the Reverand demanded. "These two are Witches, evil daughters of Satan, and must have the Devil driven out of them."
"This isn't the 17th century any more!" Buffy snapped even as Giles eyes widened even more.
"Holy?" he repeated, clearly aghast. Although he had heard of such preachers before, he had never had any of his close friends wounded by them. "How can torturing innocent children be holy?" he hissed.
"It is the Lord's work," one of the other Christian men spoke up, "and we will not let you interrupt it."
"Just try and stop us," Buffy ground out before kicking the first out of her way. Two took the one's place, but each was met with the Slayer's superior strength. As Buffy fought, Giles also made his way through the Christians. Working side by side as the well-trained team they were, Watcher and Slayer dodged every punch and forced each Christian out of their way until the Reverand was finally the only one left. "Leave him to me," Buffy told Giles. "You get Willow and Tara."
Giles hurried to help the two injured Witches to his car just as Buffy closed in on the preacher. "You really need to get your priorities straight," she told him. "I haven't been to church that much in my life, but I do know that a man who died on a cross to save all Earth's people from sin wouldn't want another man beating the hell out of two other people just because they were different from him."
"It's more than that," the Reverand exclaimed. "They are Witches and take pleasure in one another's flesh! They are evil!"
"Get this straight," Buffy ground out at him, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him to her so quickly that he released his hold on his Bible which fell to the ground. "I deal with Evil all the time. I've faced true Evil that was worse than anything you can even imagine and lived through it. Witches aren't Evil. Not all of them, any way. In fact, most of them aren't. Just because some one doesn't share your beiefs doesn't make them Evil." She glared at him in a mixture of disgustedness and anger before dropping him to the ground, walking off, and rejoining the others at Giles' car. Looking at Willow and Tara in concern, she hid the painful look that threatened to take over her face at the sight of her best friend in such enormous pain. "You two going to be okay?" she asked in true concern.
"We'll live," Tara managed, "thanks to the Goddess, you, and Giles."
Meanwhile, the preacher had scrambled to his knees, picked up his Bible, and was rushing towards them, hollering scripture verses at them the entire time. Looking over her shoulder, Buffy shook her head. "You have got to be kidding me!"
"Get in the car, Buffy."
"What about him?" she asked, jerking her thumb toward the Reverand.
"Unfortunately, he is technically human."
"But he -- "
"Buffy . . . "
"Getting in the car," the blonde Slayer muttered, shaking her head as she stepped in and shut her door. The car peeled away from the curb, leaving the Reverand still screaming at them.
"Oh my God!" Xander Harris exclaimed sharply as Giles and Buffy gently led Willow and Tara into The Magic Box. "What happened?"
Looking up from a catalog she had been flipping through, Anya asked, "New baddie?"
"What Demon ass do we get to kick?" Faith asked from where she sat with her feet propped up on the table while cleaning her crossbow.
"None," Buffy said as the three teenagers sat down and Giles busied himself with cleaning his glasses.
"Okay. What Vamp butt do we get to kick?"
"None. It wasn't anything Supernatural, Faith. Just a maniac Reverand who was trying to beat the evil out of them."
Faith's, Xander's, and Anya's heads all shot up. Silence reigned at first, but then Faith asked icily, "What?"
"You heard me." Buffy nodded solemnly.
"A preacher did that?!" Xander asked disbelievingly.
Anya shrugged. "I'm not surprised. Christians can get really ugly. Millions of people have been slaughtered in the name of the Catholic religion."
"They weren't Catholic but Baptist," Buffy told her, "and they were at that church out on Higdon's Hill."
Xander swallowed hard. "You mean it was Reverand Higdon?"
Buffy shrugged. "I guess. Why? Does the name ring a bell?"
"Yeah," he said. "I used to go to that church when I was little, but then my parents stopped going out there and dragging me with them to church." He shuddered at the thought that he had been so close to a human who could inflict such immense damage. Looking in concern at his best friend, he reached out a hand and gently covered Willow's. "How ya feeling, Will?"
"I've been better," she replied weakly.
"I need a volunteer to help bandage their wounds and apply the appropriate antibiotics," Giles spoke up.
"Normally, I'd be the first one to go 'euuw' at the thought of seeing injuries like that upclose," Xander spoke, "but I'm here for ya." He stood to join the librarian in preparing and then applying the medical aid to their friends' wounds.
"Let me get this straight," Faith spoke up. "The damn preacher beat the shit out of Willow and Tara because they're Witches . . . "
" . . . and in love with each other," Tara interjected.
" . . . and you're just going to let him go?" Faith finished, staring at Buffy and Giles in disbelief.
"He's a human, Faith," Giles gently spoke.
"I told him off, and we beat up his men," Buffy added with a slight shrug.
"And that's just it?!" Faith said, speaking each word slowly as the realization sank into her. "You tell him off, beat up his men, and think that's going to teach him his lesson?!"
"He's a human, Faith," Buffy said in way of explaination.
"And that gives him a Get Out of Jail free card?" Xander asked.
"Xander!" Buffy admonished.
The Zeppo shrugged. "I can just kinda see where she's going with this."
"Shut up, Harris," Faith said, standing. "I don't need or want your help." Her eyes narrowed at Buffy. "You think this is going to stop him? Think again. I've seen his kind before. This is just the beginning. They've found their targets now, and they won't rest until they've either destoryed or converted them." With that said, she turned, sending one last glance at Willow and Tara, and then stalked out of The Magic Box.
"Faith!" Buffy exclaimed, starting to rush after her.
"Don't," Giles' simple command stopped her. "Give her time to cool off."
A few days passed, and Willow's and Tara's injuries began to slowly heal. When they returned to college, however, they found that most of the other students and even a few of the faculty seemed to purposefully steer away from them. When they invited one of their old friends to sit with them for lunch, she sniffed and said, "I don't think so. I really don't want any spells worked on me. Sorry if you wanted me to be your guinea pig." She then turned and walked away, ignoring Willow's and Tara's protests.
"I told you it was risky," Willow commented softly as she sat down and began to eat.
"I know," Tara said, "but I never dreamed Christians could still be that cruel." She looked into her love's eyes as she said softly, "I'm so sorry, Willow."
"For what?" Willow asked, startled. "Tara," she continued, shaking her head fervently, "this isn't your fault."
"Isn't it?" she asked. "I'm the one that insisted on asking for their help."
"You just wanted to get the car back on the road, and who could have known that it would be more dangerous to ask Christians for help than to walk through Sunnydale at night? The sun was setting."
"True, but still . . . "
"No but's," Willow said firmly but gently nonetheless. She reached over and gently took Tara's hands in her own. "Tara, look at me." Catching her love's eyes and keeping eye contact with her, she said, "Neither of us had any way to know that a simple request for help could lead to so terrible an ordeal. It wasn't your fault. Please don't blame yourself for it."
Tara smiled sadly, but before she could answer, one of the more popular female students on the campus walked up to them, approaching their table from behind Tara. Willow looked up at her with a smile. "Can we help you?" she asked.
"No," the popular girl spoke coldly, "but maybe I can help you." The girl raised her arm, but Willow could not see what she held until the other girl stuck the lit match to Tara's hair.
"TARA!" Willow screamed as the fire caught quickly.
"Willow, it's suddenly getting very hot. . . " Tara's voice trailed off as she realized what had happened. The blonde jumped to her feet, screaming as she began slapping herself in the back of her head, frantically trying to put out the fire.
Thinking of the only thing that might put out the fire that she could, Willow snatched up her bottled water, swiftly unscrewed its lid, and poured the water onto Tara's hair. The fire fizzled at first and then died out, and the couple turned to face the laughing girl. "HOW DARE YOU SET HER ON FIRE!" Willow yelled, fury flooding her soul, as she rushed at the girl and hit her so hard that she was knocked to the ground.
"You were what?!" Giles asked in disbelief, his voice raising the few decibels needed for Faith to be able to hear him as she walked into The Magic Box.
The Slayer silently edged closer to the back door of the shop just in time to hear Willow repeat, "Expelled."
"And what of the girl?"
The redhead shrugged. "She got off completely free. It appears I shouldn't have been antagonizing her by worshiping the Devil."
"But she set Tara's hair on fire!" Anya exclaimed.
"Believe me, I know!" Willow exclaimed. "That's why I hit her."
"She should at least be expelled," Giles protested.
"I know," Willow again agreed, "but it doesn't do any good to tell the school board that. She's a doctor's daughter, a honor roll student, and sings in the choir at Higdon's church."
The door to The Magic Box slammed, and Willow looked up at Giles and Anya. "Did you hear something?"
"Customer," Anya decided. "Apparently one that's not too happy. I'll get it." She went out into the foyer, plastering a bright smile over her face, but found no one in sight.
The doors of the church kicked open, and a young woman dressed in tight, black leather strolled confidently into the church. It was not her attire that drew the startled and terrified gasps but rather the loaded crossbow that she wielded. "Nobody moves," she warned, her voice low, cold, and deadly.
"May -- May we help you?" the man behind the pulpit stammered out.
Faith's dark eyes narrowed into dangerous slits as she examined him. "You Reverand Higdon?" she asked.
"Y-Yes."
"Good," she snarled out. "You're the one I came here looking for."
"I . . . I am?" he asked, his eyes wide as she continued to approach him.
"Yeah. I've heard you've been terrorizing some girls around here lately."
"I assure you, madam," he said, swelling with self-pride despite the crossbow the stranger held in her arms, "that I have done absolutely nothing of the sort. I am a man of God and do only what the Lord tells me to do."
"And he told you to beat the shit outta Witches and gays?" she snarled out, her eyes narrowing even more.
"Is that what this is about? Those two Satanists?" the preacher demanded.
"And the others," Faith stated. Although she did not have the facts, there was absolutely no doubt in the Slayer's mind that the church had not treated others that did not share their beliefs the same way they had treated Willow and Tara. "Just because some one doesn't share your beliefs doesn't make them evil or Satanists. They're not Satanists or evil, but they are Witches."
"You know," the Reverand remarked with surprising casualty, "I seem to recall the little blonde and her father who prevented the Lord's work from being done saying about the same thing, but you are all wrong. The Lord shows us those who need our help, and we help them to accept Him."
"By beating the shit out of them?"
"By whatever means necessary, and you really should watch your tongue while in the Lord's house, young lady," the Reverand told the Slayer just as she came to stand directly before his pulpit.
"Oh," Faith commented coldly, shaking her head, as she pointed the readied arrow in her crossbow directly at the Reverand, "you really don't want to tell me what to do right now."
"If it is my fate to die for the work I have given the Lord," the Reverand bravely announced, "then so be it. I have lived a long and full life, and a reward awaits me in Heaven that is greater than any one of your Devil-worshipping caliber could ever begin to understand."
"Maybe you're ready to do the ultimate for your God," Faith remarked, "but that doesn't mean that your followers are ready to follow you that far. There's no excuse for what you've been doing to those two on Sunday and the others like them. You hide behind your Bible and your God, but what about that old Golden Rule that came from the Bible? Do unto others what you would have them do unto you?"
"Ah, but He also said that thou shall not suffer a Witch to live."
Faith's eyes narrowed even tighter, and a new sheet of ice wrapped around her heart. "You telling me that you've actually killed people just because they followed a different religion?" When the Reverand hesitated, Faith kicked his pulpit aside, and as it went spinning a few feet across the floor, she pressed the arrow's tip against the preacher's throat. "Answer me," she growled, her dark eyes flashing furiously.
The preacher struggled to hide his fear as he answered, "If they would not accept Jesus Christ as their savior, then yes, I put them out of their own misery."
At the Reverand's truthful answer, many startled gasps erupted from his congregation. Without looking back at them, Faith spoke, "There you have it, peeps. All this time you've been going to this church, you've been following a murderer. He already kills Pagans just because they're of a different religious belief. Do you really think he stops at Pagans? What about Jews? Muslims? Buddhists? They're not Christians. But does that make it right for him to kill them?"
"What about those of you with kids?" she continued. "What if your child grows up and finds a different religion? Would that make them evil? Would that give Higdon a right to kill your child?" The Slayer could already hear several hurried footsteps as parents rushed their children out of the church.
Faith made no move to stop the ones that were leaving. Instead, she continued, "You claim to follow a man who was willingly cruxified in order for all humans to be rid of sin. I'm no Christian, but I've still gotta think that a man with that kind of balls and heart -- even if he didn't have much brains to be dying for strangers -- would have more compassion than to be attacking, not to mention slaughtering, people who thought differently than he did. You really think your beloved Jesus would approve of what your've been doing? He said to turn the other cheek when attacked. I never heard of him saying to attack, and I'm willing to bet none of you did, either.
"We live in a land that was originally founded fer freedom, freedom of everything from speech to religion. Not a single one of your people began in this land. Every one of you can trace your family history back to whenever your people first came to America, and I betcha that somewhere in the list of the reasons they came was freedom. Are you willing to keep beating the crap out of innocent people just to get them to give up their freedom when your own family once struggled so hard to achieve the same thing?"
"This is totally against my gut instinct," Faith admitted as she concluded her speech, "but I'm gonna give you all a chance to get the Hell outta here." Her eyes narrowed again at the preacher as she added in a low snarl, "'Cept you." Then speaking to where all could hear once more, Faith finished, "If you're here when I turn around, your'll going down with your preacher. Otherwise, your freedom's just outside that door. Your'll never be free from what your've done and allowed to happen, but your'll at least be free from me."
In two fluid movements that were faster than the preacher could even blink, Faith whirled, moving her crossbow away from him and pinning him by his neck to the crook of her arm, to face the now-empty pews. "Ya don't see anybody there," she told him. "You're alone."
"I'm never alone," the Reverand replied. "The Lord is always with me."
"You really think He's still watching your back after all the evil your've done?" When he started to speak, she tightened her grip on him and cut him off. "I don't wanna hear any of your bullshit. You think your God's still looking out for you after everything your've done, supposedly in His name? All the innocents you've beat to within an inch of their lives, all the lives you've ruined, all the murders you've committed, and you're still sick enough to think that you've done it all 'cause He wanted you to? Maybe some might buy that, but I don't."
"You know, Buffy couldn't kill you 'cause she thought you were still human, but she was wrong. I don't know what the Hell you are, but I do know that if I let you go today, you'll just gonna continue all the evil you've already been doing. If I release you today, there's no telling how many more innocents you'll kill just 'cause they don't follow the same God you do and you think they're evil 'cause they don't share your beliefs."
The Slayer looked down into the Reverand's frightened face. She knew that every wrinkle in his face represented his old age, and she thought of how many Witches he had killed that would never reach his age. "I can't let that happen," she said with a slight shrug of her muscular shoulders. "Maybe in your next life you won't be so much of a murdering maniac."
"You tortured all those people you killed before you killed them. I could do that to you. I could trap you here, burn down the place. I could beat you to a bloody pulp, trying to get you to denounce your God, but I'm not gonna do any of that. You better be finishing up your last prayer, though, 'cause I can't let you walk outta here to continue your evil."
Seconds ticked by as she allowed him time to finish whatever thoughts he might have been thinking, and then, in one swift movement, Faith snapped the preacher's neck. She let his carcass drop to the floor and walked off, never looking back. As she walked through the empty and eeriely quiet church, she thought of all the blood he had put on others' hands, all the Witches and gays he had tortured, all the Witches he had killed, and finally she thought of how his sick, warped mind had hid all his evil doings underneath the label of the Christian's God's work. His blood was on her hands now, but at least no one else would die because of him. Faith walked solemnly out of the church. Her dark eyes darted around the lawn, but no one had dared to stay. The Slayer continued on into the familiar, welcoming shadows of the dark night.
The End
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Date: 2013-10-21 09:46 pm (UTC)The second bleakly sad, but really well-written.
But that last one? Wow. It's awful, the things people will do because things don't fit into their preconceived ideas and neat little boxes.
Because I was Goth growing up, what with going to a Catholic school, you have no idea the amount of times I was asked if I worshipped Satan. And there are still people I knew growing up who are very homophobic and used religion as an excuse - which is inexcusable. I'm surprised none of my Muslim friends were ever targeted, for being "different". I'm not religious myself, but I have friends in all sorts of religions and denominations who are (blessedly) free of prejudice, which made growing up so much easier.
Thanks for this, it's all kinds of perfect and wonderful.
no subject
Date: 2013-10-26 06:15 pm (UTC)I was Goth. I was Pagan for many years. Both Drew and I come from a long line of Witches. And to be quite frank, if I could get a God to show up, tell me He or She would actually take care of my family, and DO so, I don't really care who They were. I'd still worship Them.
And as a matter of fact, The Other Side of Christanity steamed from a conversation I had at a Wicnic (Wiccan Picnic) with a Goth girl who had had her hair set on fire by a cheerleader in a public school supposedly trying to burn the Devil out of her and who got expelled because her evil ways tempted the other girl to set her hair on fire! Stupid much? And to think I was foolish enough to fall back in with such people!
Also, whereas I've never gone to a Catholic school (Drew did), we've lived in the Bible belt for years.