chapter 28 – a tear and a smile, part V

Jacob slipped from behind the dumpster at the end of the alley and brushed the dust and dirt from his Kenneth Cole button-down shirt. He clucked his tongue as he examined his ripped and mud-covered clothing, and his once-upon-a-time fashion statement of a shirt. After the shit he’d been through, it looked more like a Pee-Wee Herman hand-me-down than couture.

“Stupid witch,” groused Jacob. The condition of his attire was clearly Willow's fault. Still, as he grumbled about the wrongness of her very existence, he fought the urge to laugh out loud at her stupidity. But he quickly thought better of that. Shemhazi might be lurking beneath the surface, ready to reappear and fuck up Jacob’s plans.

The witch and the all-mighty Devil had forgotten all about him. Their power struggle had monopolized their minds so completely that the vampire had slipped off their list of things to be concerned about.

Some shit never changed, he thought, and then shrugged knowingly. All of his life and un-life, the masters would forget their servants in the heat of battle. Not until the ship’s deck needed swabbing or a fresh kill had to be delivered to a pampered vampire princess did they remember their charges. A serious miscalculation, Jacob nodded smugly. The insignificant ones shouldn't be discounted. They were the creatures that came through in the clutch with that missing piece of the puzzle and saved the day.

“Damn them all to bloody hell!” He raised his voice, recklessly risking the reappearance of Shemhazi’s black cloud. It still pissed him off, no mater how he rationalized it.

Shitty unfair is what it was, being treated like a sodding slave—a goddamn indentured servant.

For all of his existence, alive or undead, it had been that way for Jacob and he'd hated every bloody minute of it. Even in New York, where he'd roamed freely and feasted well for decades, he couldn't forget the stigma of being treated as less than a man on board the slave ships. And that bitch Darla, never considered him worthy of the line of Aurelius.

He forced his anger down into his chest. He had to keep sharp. Think. He doubted that the Devil would make a return trip to torture the humans, even if he knew the bastard couldn’t be trusted. Shemhazi had set into the motion all he needed. Now, all he had to do was sit on his throne in Hades and watch, blissfully aware that he’d done all he could do to fuck the witch’s life and screw her friends.

Amazing, how far a vengeful fallen angel would go to get his jollies.

Jacob breathed more easily, feeling better. He should feel good about his chances of getting what he wanted out of this situation. About time the bastard child of Aurelius came out on top.

Now, he had to make certain the witch delivered on her promise.

He stretched his neck from side to side, checked his pockets. Empty. Good. He pulled the silver rings from his fingers and the Rolex wristwatch over his left hand and dropped them unceremoniously onto the ground. He didn’t want to bring anything with him from this world. Although he hadn’t received a full endowment of Luke’s gifts, he knew the rules. A portal jumper was vulnerable if he held on to his past. If he let it go and existed within whatever moment in time he happened to be in, then he was eternal, immortal and couldn’t get fucking dusted.

Memories are a bitch, mused Jacob, and he’d have no problem giving them up. He would exist and feast on the blood of innocents in every eternity in every world or dimension ever created by god or beast.

“How sweet is that?”

Jacob couldn’t fathom why Luke no longer wanted this life. Giving away his gifts sounded like a stupid idea to Jacob, and one he’d never consider. As long as the Devil’s chosen Portal Jumper killed, he had infinity at his fingertips, and could walk among those who lived in the sunshine or the darkness. No stakes could kill him. No witches’ curses could touch him.

Sounded like a vampire’s heaven as far as Jacob was concerned. And he more than deserved his own Shangri-la.

He inhaled deeply, drawing in the scents of all who had been in the alley during the past day and night. He knew that Luke would be heading to his muse and that Willow wouldn't be far behind. He sniffed the air, and pulled Anyaka's fragrance in through his nostrils and let it permeate through his body. Such a wonderful vengeance demon, he hadn't realized that. Made sense they possessed an enormous amount of memory.

You had to be organized to keep track of all that hate and punishment.

He took another deep breath and with the second dose of her scent, Jacob knew where he had to go.

“Delightful,” he said wistfully. “I haven’t been to that part of the world in ages.”

Jacob closed his eyes and summoned his portal.

“Sunnydale, here I come.”

Then he jumped.


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Tara flopped down next to Willow on the bottom step of the stoop and nudged her in the side with her elbow. “How you doing?” she asked.

She'd known the answer to her question as soon as she’d turned the corner onto the block where the location spell had led her. Willow’s slumped shoulders and the trembling hand raking through her mess of red hair screamed at Tara that something was terribly wrong.

“They aren’t here.” Willow tilted her head up slightly, gesturing to the building behind her.

“Who’s not here,” Tara asked.

“Buffy, Spike,” she said quickly. “And Dawn.”

“Well, I know that—,”

“Shemhazi is gone," interrupted Willow, as she turned to face Tara.

She looked exhausted. Tara couldn't remember the last time she'd seen confusion or anguish on Willow's face, definitely not since the thought spell, and before then only once—the night Buffy had jumped from the tower.

“What happened? Are you alright?” Cupping Willow's face, she lifted her chin, and holding her head steady, forced Willow to meet her gaze. Then she took a quick inventory of her lover’s body, checking for blood stains, tears in her clothing or bruises on her face, arms or legs. She didn’t seem to be hurt physically, but the pain in her eyes was so intense, Tara sighed with concern.

“Baby, please. You’re frightening me.” Tara took Willow's hands into hers and pulled them into her lap, messaging them gently, encouraging her to relax.

“He told me I had to make a choice, a horrible choice, and that all of this was my fault.” Willow was shaking her head. “Do you think it’s my fault?”

“No. I mean how can it be your fault?” Tara said genuinely confused. “You did what you had to, and you didn’t do this alone. Giles and I helped you with the thought spell. And you were smart enough to alter it so that you’d have the power to help us fight back. Imagine where we’d be if you hadn’t had the courage to change the spell so that you lost your fear.”

“But I didn’t think of it that way, Tara.” Willow’s eyes glistened and the vulnerability in her voice surprised Tara. After all they’d done, after all she’d given her, what was wrong with Willow? Being afraid didn’t make sense if she was still under the spell? What had Shemhazi done to make her afraid?

“Tell me about Shemhazi.” Tara scooted closer to Willow and wrapped her arm around her shoulders, pulling her head to rest on her chest as she rubbed her back. Willow’s arms circled Tara’s waist.

“The spell didn’t take away the memory of the portal jumper. None of us ever forgot why the spell was cast.”

Willow's head was buried in her chest, but Tara could make out her words, which were coming out in short, gasping spurts.

“I took away our fear…of what we feared…feared the most about ourselves." Willow sounded close to tears. Then she raised her head and looked at Tara. "And what do we fear the most?” With a sad smile on her face, she touched Tara’s cheek. “Losing what we love the most.”

“You loved your power more than me,” she stated. It was not a question. Tara had no doubt of this, but it hadn't mattered, at least not since the thought spell.

“I loved the fact that I was gaining control over my powers, and was getting stronger every day, more than anything.”

“So what did you lose, what did the spell take away from you…from me…from all of us?”

“You said it that day at Revello drive, Tara,” said Willow. “The three of us had a part in creating this spell. You said it would take one thought away. I said, it was a simple spell. But what were you thinking about that day?”

Tara narrowed her eyes, replaying that morning in her head. She’d been standing, leaning in the doorway, listening to Giles talk about the portal jumper, the monster that was going to kill them all through their thoughts. She recalled thinking that Giles was in charge, and that hadn’t been the case in a long time. He was tense, irritated by something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It wasn't the danger that they were facing a new Apocalypse; it was something else.

Buffy had been distant since they’d brought her back to life; she seemed to appreciate the distraction of Dawn’s pain and suffering to get mind off of her own discomfort with being back and alive. Xander was more nervous than usual. He’d come into the house, jittery and suspicious about everything that was going on around him. Anya was being the dutiful girlfriend, trying to soothe him.

Then there’d been Dawn, quietly sitting on a stool at the end of the counter. Barely glancing up as the group discussed what they’d have to do to save her life, yet again.

“I thought that none of us would ever have a chance at true joy because we’d become so used to living in fear.” Tara finally answered Willow’s question.

“And I thought forgetting fear would never be enough to save us," added Willow.

“We doubted the spell,” choked Tara, the realization making her pull away from Willow. "From the beginning, we had no faith."

“We screwed up, because that doubt attracted Shemhazi’s attention.”

“Shit,” whispered Tara, the curse word coming from her lips surprising her mildly. Then she lowered her head into her hands. Shemhazi had been right. This had been Willow’s fault and hers…and Giles', too.

“And who knows what the Watcher was thinking about when we cast the spell. We were used by a Devil. He was playing a game, giving us a test. See how far we’d go, and I went all the way, Tara.”

“What can we do to fix it?”

“There’s a spell, and I have no doubt that this time it will work.” Willow said earnestly. “But we’ve got to find Dawn first.”

“I can help with that,” Tara responded, gleeful with the knowledge she could help. She’d found more than Willow with her relocation spell. But then, she remembered something else Willow had mentioned about the fallen angel.

“Shemhazi said you had a choice?” queried Tara.

“Yes, he did.” Her eyes shifted from Tara’s face.

“About what?”

Willow stood up and pulled her short rumbled skirt down around her thighs. “It doesn’t matter. As soon as we find Dawn, everything will be all right.”

“I know where Dawn is,” Tara rose, took Willow’s hand, and squeezed it firmly. “She’s in Sunnydale with Giles, Anya, Buffy—and Spike.”

“Good.” Willow exhaled slowly. “Everyone is home.”

“Luke’s there, too.”

“Even better.” Willow pulled Tara into a hug and nuzzled softly against her neck. Then she extended her arms, holding Tara’s shoulders with her hands, studying her face carefully.

“We can end this, Tara,” she said, her expression filled with conviction. The look of confusion Tara had seen in her eyes only a few moments before had vanished. The confident Willow she’d come to understand since the thought spell was back.

“Shall we go?” Willow gripped her shoulders a little too hard.

“Yes, but first, I need to ask you something?”

“Anything, my love.”

“How did the thought spell change me?”

“You were afraid of loving me,” said Willow, running her fingertip over Tara’s bottom lip. “The spell took that fear away from you, and helped you love me completely, and without question.”

“Okay,” smiled Tara. “That makes sense.”

“Hold my hand,” said Willow. “We’ve got to go to Dawn.”


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“Where is Anya?” Giles shouted, shoving open the door to his flat. He rushed into the living room and found Xander sitting on the sofa, staring at the fireplace, looking like a Zombie. His face was frozen, expressionless, and his pupils, huge black saucers obliterating the white space in his eyes.

Bloody hell, cursed Giles. He didn’t have time to deal with the boy’s issues now. Dawn was in the clutches of the portal jumper and they would have to work fast to save her.

“She’s here somewhere,” Xander’s voice sounded like it was coming out of a tunnel.

“Look, you’ve got to stop drifting into this malaise, Xander.” He snapped. “We’re up against it and every moment is critical.”

“What the hell does Malaysia have to do with this?”

Giles shook his head, frustrated. “Anya, can you hear me?” He stared up at the ceiling.

“Yes, I’m here.” The voice came from the fireplace, which at least explained Xander’s fixation on the smokeless hearth when Giles had run into his flat.

“Dawn’s with the portal jumper, and I would imagine he is on his way to find you.”

“I would think you are right,” Anya’s voice replied. “He will need his memories.”

“If we can extract you from the in-between dimension, I know how to reverse the thought spell,” Giles pulled his glasses from his face. “And make you human again.”

Xander leaned forward and grabbed the Watcher’s arm. “What happens to Dawn if Luke can’t find Anya?”

“We must plan it perfectly, but before I reverse the spell, Anya will give Luke back his memories and for those few moments before he forgets, Xander you will be able to kill him.”

“What!” Anya’s voiced exclaimed from everywhere in the room. Xander’s eyes closed and he sunk back against the sofa's cushions.

“You get to the heart of the matter, Xander,” said Giles. “If you can reach the Portal Jumper’s heart, when he’s weakened, you can destroy him.”

“Are you certain, Giles?" said the voice of Anya.

“I am bloody positive.”

To be continued…