Welcome To The Slaughterhouse
Sep. 1st, 2006 11:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beer_good_foamyTitle: Welcome To The Slaughterhouse
Author: Beer Good (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
beer_good_foamy)
Timeline: Alt s5 from "Family"
Rating: NC17 !!!
Length: 20,000 or so in toto (10 chapters)
Summary: Alternate version of "Family", crossover with "Texas Chainsaw Massacre". Tara’s family kidnap her and the scoobies follow, but of course there's things Tara hasn't told them... According to some this is "completely demented" and "morbidly sadistic" but I like it.
Characters: Ensemble, focus on Willow/Tara
Warnings: ***Violence; character death; character dismemberment; cannibalism; homophobia; self-harm; family squabbles***
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters here. They belong either to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, or to whoever owns the TCM characters - if there is any justice in the world I guess that would be Tobe Hooper. If anyone knows for sure, let me know.
If you want to read me cringing and trying to justify all the nastiness in this, there's an annotated version here. You should probably read it unspoiled the first time, though.
Welcome To The Slaughterhouse
Author’s note:
1. Consider this a character death warning. *points, taps finger on it* Not kidding, folks. No one is safe. And no one is going to die cleanly, either. The NC17 rating isn't for porn. I like to think there's more to the story than just violence, but there will be a large amount of that too - so if you have a problem with that, feel free to not read the story.
2. This was originally written as part of a challenge by Axel, so thanks to him for the inspiration.
Enough caveats, I think. So let’s put some grainy old 16 mm film in the camera, load up on sunblock and fly swatters and get going with...
Chapter 1: I’m Gonna Bring You Back
Tara was almost asleep when someone knocked on her door. As she stumbled out of bed and put her robe on, she wondered who it might be; Willow had had to go to her parents for some family thing and promised to make it up to her. She checked the clock; just after 11 PM. Her birthday was in an hour, and she sighed. Since her mother died, no one had really bothered to remember it, so she wasn't exactly surprised, but... Another knock on the door shook her out of her thoughts. She opened the door.
"Hello, Tara."
Instinctively, she shied away as her father stepped into the room. Over the last six months she'd been so happy she'd almost forgotten about her family, like it was all some nightmare. She'd thought she'd gotten away clean, she'd dared to believe that she might actually have a chance at a good life. Now it all came crashing down, and she felt like she was going to faint.
Her father glared at her. "I said 'Hello, Tara'."
"H-h-hello, S-sir."
"That's more like it." He checked his watch as he dumped an empty suitcase on the floor in front of her. "I guess I got here just in time. I'd say happy birthday, but we both know it's not going to be a happy one. Pack your stuff, the car's waiting and I don't intend to spend a minute more than I have to in this place."
She stared at the floor, couldn't bear to look at him as she decided. He'd pushed her around long enough. "No."
"What was that?"
"N-no, Sir. I'm not c-coming with y-"
The punch caught her square on her cheekbone, the entire room spun around and when she tried to take a step backwards she realized she was lying on the floor. She'd forgotten how badly he could hurt her, the nausea, the helplessness. He bent over her, grabbed her by the hair and slapped her sharply to make sure she didn't pass out. She whimpered at the thought of having to go back. "No... p-p-please don't make me..."
"I was going to give you a chance to redeem yourself, Tara. You ran away from your home, leaving me and your brothers to fend for ourselves, but I was going to be the bigger man" — he slapped her again — "and let you come along of your own free will. But if this is the way you want it..." Her entire head hurt as he pulled her to her feet by her hair. He landed another punch in her gut, holding her up so she couldn't even double over. "Now. Pack. Your. Stuff. And don't get any ideas, Donnie's right outside your window. Are you going to co-operate, or do I need to..." Slowly, she nodded. "What's that, Tara?"
"Y-y-yes Sir. Tha-hank you, Sir."
"Good girl."
"Please..." Tara indicated her bathrobe. "Could you just let me get dressed?"
Her father sneered at her, thought about it then turned his back and averted his eyes like a good Christian. "Like anyone would want to see you naked anyway." As Tara picked up her clothes, she managed to find a scrap of paper in one pocket.
* * *
Willow reached her girlfriends' dorm room at exactly midnight, feeling positively giddy. Of course, she'd planned this carefully. Making Tara think she'd forgotten her birthday had made her feel awful, but she figured in about thirty seconds all of that would be forgotten. She had wine, she had presents, and she had some very naughty ideas on how to start what she figured would be Tara's best birthday ever.
As she used her key to open the door and sneak inside, she noticed how still everything was. She knew Tara usually went to bed early, but... something felt wrong. In the moonlight from the window, she saw drawers pulled open, clothes scattered every which way and an empty bed. "Tara?" Instantly worried, she put the presents down and ran into the corridor to check the bathroom. Empty. She came back to her lover's deserted room, and after a few minutes of searching found a note that chilled her to the bone. It was Tara's handwriting, but not her usual polite script; this was written quickly by someone who only had a few seconds to sum up everything she felt.
DAD FOUND ME
LOVE YOU ALWAYS
FORGET ME
Willow's knees buckled and she tumbled onto the bed, curling up around Tara's discarded bathrobe and breathing in her scent as she fought the tears. Then a determined look came on her face and she stood up.
* * *
It was late, but within forty minutes the gang had met up at Tara's room. Willow had explained and got very upset when everyone didn't immediately drop everything to go running after Tara.
"Look, Will..." Buffy, who had only found out 24 hours ago that her sister wasn't real and that something very powerful was after them both, really didn't need to cope with this as well. "Are you sure she's really in trouble?"
"Gee, I don't know, Buff. She ups and runs away in the middle of the night telling me to forget her — oh, I'm sure it's NOTHING!"
"And you're sure... I mean... sometimes things just don't work out, you know. Maybe she just went home to think things through... You've only known her for —"
"How long did you know Angel before you risked your life to save his?" Willow snapped, waving the paper in Buffy's face. "Look at this. READ it. This isn't I'm-tired-of-my-gay-experimentation-phase, this is my-crazy-psycho-dad-is-taking-me-away-for..." She couldn't finish that sentence, and looked to her oldest friend.
Xander tried for a sensible solution, turning to Giles. "Can't we call the police? This is kidnapping, isn't it?"
"Strictly speaking, I'm not sure it is. Tara isn't 21 yet, and we can't prove they've taken her against her will..." Giles took his glasses off. "Willow, he's her father. As much as it pains me to say it, how terrible could he be? What do you actually know about her family?"
"A-almost nothing", Willow admitted. "I know her mother died three years ago, and that she has three older brothers. But the way she gets when she mentions them... Giles, they've hurt her. Bad. I don't need her to tell me any details to know that. Look, I'm going after her, that's all there is to it. I wish you'd help me, but if you won't, I'll go alone."
Xander quietly got up and put his arm around her, not having to say it out loud. He was in. Anya sighed, but didn't object. Buffy exchanged a look with Giles. After all, she could bring Dawn along, and her mother's health scare from a couple of days ago seemed to be cleared up... part of her didn't mind putting a few miles between herself and whoever that woman was who had beat her up last night. "You're right, Will, I'm sorry. If you think Tara's in danger, of course we'll find her. We'll leave in the morning. Do you know where they live?"
"No." Willow's resolve face remained, but with a hint of gratitude. "But give me ten minutes with a computer and I'll have an address."
* * *
The next morning they set out in a van they'd borrowed from one of Xander's colleagues. Willow hadn't been able to find an actual address, just the name of a farm, but they figured once they got there they'd ask around. They'd brought some weapons, just in case people didn't want to answer.
As the van rolled East and the hours rolled by, everything settled into a pattern; Giles and Buffy up front bickering and discussing slayage, Anya and Dawn in the middle basically annoying each other and looking out the windows at the passing landscape, and Xander and Willow in the back. Willow had brought the doll's eye crystal Tara had given her on the night she'd first told her how she felt, and she kept twirling it around her fingers as she stared angrily out the window wishing Giles could drive faster. Xander would try to lighten the mood occasionally, but mostly he was just there for her. After several hours, he pointed out the window at the sign beside the road.
"Cheer up, Wills. It won’t be long now. See? Here we are!"
They both looked at the sign as they passed into the county where Tara had grown up.
WELCOME TO MUERTO COUNTY, TEXAS
Home of the best darn beef in the world!
Chapter 2: Sweet Hitch-hiker
Buffy felt ready to die any second. When she'd agreed to help Willow check up on Tara (she still didn't believe it would take more than a visit to either convince Tara's family to let her come back, or to assure Willow that everything was alright) she certainly hadn't expected to have to suffer like this. Anything else — say, fighting an unstoppable demon in a red dress — seemed like a picnic compared to the torture she was being subjected to right now.
She had brought CDs along for the trip, but as it turned out the van didn’t have a CD player and the tapes in the glove compartment were perfectly suited to Giles’ taste. And as if it wasn't bad enough that he was listening to it, now he was even singing along. Buffy winced and finally blurted out: "Could you STOP that? Please?"
Giles looked at her, a little amused. "You really should be listening to this, you know. Your taste in music could stand some improvement, and unlike most of what you listen to these people actually have talent and play their own instruments."
"This isn’t music, Giles, this is the sound old people make when they prepare to mate! Besides, there are... um... Oh! News! Something could be happening that we need to know about. It's important to keep up with current events, you know!" Satisfied with that excuse, Buffy popped the Creedence Clearwater Revival tape out of the stereo and switched to radio.
"...though he was frequently described by movie fans as a ‘hack’. Again, our top story: up and coming Hollywood film director Marcus Nispel found brutally murdered. Police will attempt to determine the cause of death as soon as they've been able to find all pieces of him, which so far have turned up in several -"
"Mwaaaaah!" Buffy switched the radio off, disgusted. Why couldn’t the news be about something nice every once in a while? "Fine. Listen to your Lynyrd... Zeppelin or whatever."
Giles decided to give her a break. "Did you manage to reach Riley this morning?"
"No, but I left a message for him about where we’d gone and that we’d be back in a couple of days. I hate army hospitals."
"He did have open-heart surgery just a few weeks —"
"Yeah, I know, check-ups are of the good, but still... I don’t want them tinkering with him. Besides, it would be nice to have him along. Not that I think we need a trained soldier to scare a couple of farmers if it comes to that, but..." She stopped and sniffed the air. "GOD, what’s that smell?"
Within a few seconds, even the ones in the car who didn’t have enhanced Slayer senses were rolling up windows, gagging and repeating variations on Buffy’s question.
"Slaughterhouse", Anya said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Everyone stared at her. "What? I worked Chicago in the 19th century. The whole town smelled like this. There’s probably one... oh, look." She pointed at a huge hangar-like building coming up on the right side of the road, and nudged Dawn to make sure the teenager got some education out of this. "See there? That’s where they bring the cows in. Then they use a hammer to beat them to death. It’s really quite interesting. We could probably get a guided tour if you want, Dawn. You should wear boots, though, because all the blood and brains —"
Xander noticed Dawn and Willow turning greener in the face by the second and tapped his girlfriend on the shoulder. "Ahn, honey — as fascinating as that is, another time, OK?"
Willow thought she understood why Tara didn’t eat meat if she grew up close to a place like that. She almost said so out loud, but realized how Xander would interpret the "not eating meat" part — he couldn’t help it, he was a guy — and kept her mouth shut. As she looked ahead, something caught her eye. "Hitch-hiker."
The Slayer looked ahead and nodded. Sure enough, there was a man standing a hundred yards ahead with his thumb out. "Should we pick him up?"
"Ew. He's gonna smell like a slaughterhouse", Dawn objected.
"But he might know where Tara’s family lives." No one could argue with Willow's logic here, though there was a creepy undertone of panic to it.
And so they stopped and let the guy aboard. He was in his mid-20s with an attempted beard and piercing blue eyes, dressed for hard work and, yep, reeking of sweat and slaughterhouse. Dawn schooched over as far towards Anya as she could. "Much obliged, folks. Been workin’ since Pa dropped me off this mornin’, I’m way too tired to walk all the way home. Think y’all could take me there? It’s probably a few miles out of your way, but we'd be happy to invite you for dinner by way of compensatin'..."
"That’s most generous of you", Giles replied. "Though to tell the truth, we don’t know yet how far out of our way it would be. We’re looking for a place called Sawyer Farm, you wouldn’t happen to know where that is?"
"Sawyer?" The hitch-hiker seemed to think about it. "Sorry, don’t ring a bell. What would you folks be wantin’ to go there for?"
Willow leaned forward. "My girlfriend is there."
"Your girlfriend?" He did a double take. "Sorry, sugarpie, I don’t think we got any of your sort here. Not for long, anyway."
Willow swallowed the insult. "No, she’s from around here but moved a couple of years ago. Maybe you know her? Tara Maclay?"
"Tara Maclay?" His face split into a wide and vicious grin. "Know her? You might say that! Ain’t a man in this county don’t know her, and I do mean biblically — Tara Getlaid, we used to call her. We been wondering where she got to, barn dances just ain’t the same since she left..." He turned to the horrified Willow. "Honey, I know you deviants don’t care none for morals and family values, but at least have some standards when you sin. You’re way too pretty to go to hell over a cumslut like her. Take my advice and go back home to San Fra-" The tyres screeched as Giles stomped on the brakes, causing the hitch-hiker to smash his face into the back of Buffy’s seat. "OW! Fuck d’ya do that for?"
"Get out."
The Texan shot Giles an angry glare. "Y’all sure ‘bout that? That dinner offer's still standin'..."
Xander reached up from behind and grabbed him by the collar. "Get out before I hang you out the door by your full and manly beard and drag you along for the next ten miles."
Somehow the hitch-hiker managed to look righteous as he stepped out (helped by a little push from Dawn). As Giles peeled away leaving their passenger in a cloud of dust, Willow began weeping uncontrollably, and Xander hugged her. "Will, it’ll be OK. What he said about Tara..."
"That was a lie", she sobbed. "But why would he make something like that up..." She looked up at the others, furious and scared that they might have believed him. "You hear that, that was a lie, I know for a FACT she’s never, I-I was her first... God, Tara..." She began to cry again.
"Will, of course we know. He just... some people enjoy hurting others. It's got nothing to do with you or Tara." Buffy sincerely wished she would get to hit something soon.
Her sister opened her mouth to ask how Willow could be sure, but the stare from Buffy told her this was one of those things a 14-year-old wasn’t supposed to ask. Instead Dawn looked down on the floor and saw something. "Hey, look. He dropped his wallet." She opened it up and her eye caught on the first thing she saw. "Uh, Willow... you said Tara has brothers, right?"
Willow wiped at her eyes and looked at the name on the driver’s license Dawn handed her. Donnie Maclay. She clenched her teeth. "Turn around, Giles. Right now."
As Giles did a 180 to head back for Tara’s brother, he accidentally brushed against the radio’s on/off button and Joey Ramone’s voice filled the car.
Sitting here with nothin' to do
Sitting here thinkin' only of you
But you'll never get out of there
She'll never get out of there
I don’t care, woah, Texas Ch-
Buffy turned it off again. "God, what's with this thing?"
****
Author's note: Buffy is, of course, wrong. Creedence rocks.
Chapter 3: No More Mr. Nice Guy
The van eased to a halt on the side of the road where they'd kicked Tara's brother out, but of course there was no sign of him. Everyone got out to stretch their legs, hug Willow and decide what to do next. The sun was beating down, causing them to sweat and squint as they scanned their surroundings for any sign of where he might have gone.
"OK", Buffy started. "We didn’t see any other cars in the last half hour, so he probably didn’t hitch a ride with anyone else, which means the farm must be around here somewhere. Some of these backroads look kinda bumpy though, I'm not sure the van can handle them..."
"There’s also the matter of petrol", Giles pointed out. "Unless there’s a filling station within the next few miles, I don’t fancy the idea of driving up and down to every single farm... chances are we’ll be stuck with an empty tank."
Xander nodded and opened the rear hatch of the van to grab a few water bottles. "So we split up and go on foot. Ask around. Someone around here must know where the Maclays live."
"And if they've hurt her", Willow growled as she grabbed a battle axe from the trunk and almost toppled over from its weight, "I'll bash their friggin' heads in."
Buffy shook her head and easily pried the axe from Willow's fingers. "Will, listen to me. I’m afraid for Tara too, but there will be no bashing of anybody! These are human beings we’re dealing with, don’t forget that. Now, you and Giles go that way, Xander and Anya over there", Buffy gestured back and forth, "me and Dawn follow the road, and we meet up back here when it gets dark, OK?"
Apart from Willow shooting her a look no one had any objections, and so loading up on water and putting on various hats and baseball caps to shelter them from the blazing sun they set out in different directions.
* * *
Buffy walked along the side of the road, with Dawn trudging after her, bitching and whining about how she was tired and it was too hot to be walking and why couldn’t she have stayed at home anyway?
"Because it's not sa... because Mom needs to take it easy for a few days. And besides, this morning you were more than happy to miss school."
"That was before we got stuck in the Sahara desert. I wanna go home."
"Too bad. The only way you're getting home before we find Tara is by hitch-hiking." Buffy paused. "You're NOT gonna hitch-hike."
"I saw this movie once where a girl stopped cars by pulling up her shirt and showing her bra", Dawn grumbled. "I could do that if I wanted to. Tara had better be in trouble..." The second the words were out her mouth Dawn regretted them.
Buffy spun around and glared at her. "Don't you even joke about that!"
"Oh yeah, you’re one to talk! You don't even like Tara. You never even talk to her."
"I —" Buffy stopped herself and regarded her sister... no, wait, the girl she had always thought of as her sister... no, wait, not always, just a few weeks... God, this is tricky. "Dawn... it's not that I don't like Tara, I just... don't know her that well, she's so new to the gang and we never seem to find anything to talk about. But she's everything to Willow, and that makes her part of the family no matter what. Tell you what, once we get out of here I'll make an effort to get to know her better, OK?"
If there was any subtext to that, Dawn didn’t pick up on it. "Fine. Whatever. Let's just find her." She kicked at something on the side of the road, then leaned down and picked it up. "Buffy, what's thi... ewwww!" She tossed it away, disgusted, and Buffy walked over to look.
At first, she just saw a bundle of fur and bone, then she realized what she was looking at and almost threw up. The fur — and feathers — were a couple of small animals, mice and sparrows. They'd been tied together with barbwire and fixed to a couple of bones that looked... no way. They had to be from an animal, because seriously, what were the odds of finding human bones lying by the side of a Texas road? The bundle had obviously been lying here a while since at least two of the animals had started rotting, and as she held the thing, she saw white maggots squirming in the eyes of one of the mice. Incredibly, though, one of the birds was still alive and tweeted helplessly at her. Buffy stared at the contraption for a few seconds — she couldn't quite get rid of the idea that whatever sick mind did this, they must have considered it a work of art — before tossing it far into the bush. She took a few deep breaths, reached for the water bottle and splashed some in her face.
"Buffy... who would do something like that?" Dawn was almost as green in the face as her sister was.
"Dunno. Some sick kid, probably. Never mind." Buffy pointed up ahead to the nearest farm. "Let's see if they know where Tara's folks live."
They walked up to the main building and knocked. A kindly-looking woman in her mid-40s opened, wiping her hands on a towel. "Oh hi honey, what can I do you for?"
"Hi, sorry to bother you. We're looking for a friend who lives somewhere around here, but we can't seem to find her house, and I was wondering you know where it is?"
"Sure thing honey, I know just about every square foot of this county."
"Oh thank you! Her family name is Maclay, and they live on a farm called Sawy-"
All kindness disappeared from the woman's face in a heartbeat. "Never heard of it. Get off my property before I call the sheriff." The door slammed shut.
* * *
Giles and Willow had knocked on two farmhouses to ask directions, but both of the women they had talked to made it very clear that they had never heard of a place called Sawyer Farm or a Maclay family, no way, never, nuh-uh, nope, and then slammed the door in their faces. The sun was starting to sink in the west as Giles pointed across a field at another house. "Cannot be more than a mile away. I suggest we ask there and then go back to the car, it will be dark within the hour." He started across the field, then turned back to Willow who made no attempt to follow him. "Are you coming?"
Willow was still holding the doll’s eye crystal, and now she stared intently at it as she shook her head. Then she took off her backpack, sat down and started rummaging through it, coming up with a spellbook. Giles sighed and bent down beside her. "Willow, I really don’t think that's a good idea. I realize you're upset..."
She snapped at him. "UPSET?! This isn’t upset, Giles! This is angry, and scared, and frustrated, and tired, and scared, a-and I know I said that already, but you're all joking about music and planning field trips to meat factories while Tara might be getting... I mean, did you even SEE Wrong Turn? And I know you and Buffy are still freaked by me and Tara but could you please at least pretend to care?! If you want to go waltzing around Texas asking stupid questions, fine, but I'm going to find my girlfriend!"
"Willow..." Giles chose his words carefully. "No one is, uh, 'freaked'. I admit we all were at first, except perhaps Xander, but Tara is an extraordinary woman — even more so if what you say about her family is true — and what you two have is something wonderful. I think I can relate a little to what you must going through right now; I do have some experience in the matter, as you recall." She looked down and nodded slowly; he didn't have to mention Jenny or the summer he'd spent desperately trying to find Buffy after she ran away. "But that's exactly the reason why you shouldn't be using magic. Magic requires a calm mind, emotional control. If you were to attempt it in your current state you might end up hurting yourself or someone else. Now, if you want to fall apart I completely understand, but the rest of us are trying to help you and need to keep a cool head to do that." He wiped the sweat out of his eyes. "As far as possible in this weather."
Still not looking up, Willow ran her fingers over the pages of the spellbook before putting it away and getting to her feet with a deep sigh. "You’re right, I guess. I'm just tired. It's been a long day. OK, so we try one more house and then go back and decide what to do next." She didn’t need to add that she would have some ideas of what that might be.
* * *
"Finally", Anya muttered. She and Xander had been walking for miles before coming to the only farm they could find on their side of the road. Anya could understand why no one would want to live near these people, they didn't seem to take much care in keeping up appearences; the yard was littered with rusted cars, tractors and farm equipment which looked like it hadn't been used since Coolidge was in the White House. "I thought road trips were supposed to be fun, not sweaty and angsty."
"Yeah", Xander glared at her, "if I have any more fun today I don't think I'm gonna be able to take it. Hello? Anybody home?" He knocked on the screen door, which swung open with a creak revealing a hallway that smelled dirty and dusty. He walked inside. "Hello?"
"Xander, you probably shouldn't do that. Texans protect their homes with firearms, as is their right according to the —"
"Please, Anya, can the editorial wait? I'm just looking. Hellooo?" Xander walked along the hallway, looked up the stairs, and then checked the first room on the left. "Uh... Ahn, come look at this." They both walked into what looked like a gallery for artist demons. The whole room was filled with mobiles, sculptures and various constructions. All of them stunk like death, which made sense since they were made of body parts — mostly chickens and cows, mostly just bones, but feathers and rotting meat still clung to some of them. And some of them were...
Anya pointed at one of the contraptions. "Xander — those are human skulls." They both stared at it, fighting the gag reflex and too stunned to hear the floorboards creaking behind them.
"Oh no... I've been in this movie before. Everybody out of the pool." Xander turned around to leave - and found himself face to face with a huge man in the dirtiest work clothes he'd ever seen. Well, not exactly face to face, since the man's features were hidden behind a leathery mask that looked like... Xander had time to refuse to believe that the mask was made from an actual human face before the man raised a sledgehammer and brought it down on Xander's head, smashing his skull and killing him instantly.
Anya just stared as Xander's body collapsed, a gush of blood splashing out across the floor and ruining her sneakers. Before she had time to react, Xander's attacker grabbed her and started hauling her further inside the house. For a few seconds all she could feel was shock; everything
(Xander?)
was happening too fast. She started screaming and trying to fight back as she was carried inside a room with a large butcher's table, brown from years of bloodshed, but the man was way too strong to even notice her fists pounding him. As he lifted her up, she looked behind her and had time to think that that meat hook looked way too rusty to pass inspection at any slaughterhouse she'd been to. The pain when she was impaled on it was so blindingly white she couldn’t even scream anymore. Time lost all meaning. When she opened her eyes again, the small part of her mind that wasn't busy screaming HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS could only watch as the man tossed her dead boyfriend onto the table, fired up a chainsaw and started taking Xander's body apart.
* * *
Author's note: Leatherface of "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" is the intellectual (if you can call him that) and possibly legal property of Tobe Hooper. Remakes featuring "7th Heaven" stars suck. And I know that last scene is straight out of the movie, but let's face it, it's a classic and I had to use it. We're barely getting started.
Chapter 4: It’s Just A Flesh Wound
Dawn and Buffy got back to the van just as the sun sunk below the horizon, finding themselves alone there; another disappointment to cap a day spent failing to find out anything about Tara's family. Buffy turned on the van's headlights so the others would be able to find them easier.
"Don't worry, Dawn. They'll be back soon."
But an hour later she found herself rethinking that. There was still no sign of others, it had gotten completely dark, and Buffy was really growing concerned. Better go look for them. She realized she was hungry as well as tired; dinnertime had come and gone, and for all she knew, they were having a delicious meal in the Maclay’s kitchen right now... . She checked the weapons they’d brought along, taking a short sword just to be on the safe side; it couldn’t hurt to have something shiny to show off in case Tara’s family got violent. "OK, Dawnie, let’s go."
"No, Buffy, we can't go. What if they come back and we're not here?"
"Then they'll wait here until we get back. Dawn, this is Texas, not a hell dimension or anything, I’m sure they’re OK." Buffy walked to the edge of the road, wondering where they should check first. Willow and Giles could probably take care of themselves, so she decided to go in the direction Xander and Anya had gone off in. As the moon rose, bathing the countryside in pale light, Buffy and Dawn crossed the highway and disappeared into the woods on the other side.
* * *
When Willow and Giles turned up at the same spot a little while later, having gotten lost and spent about an hour walking in circles until they found the highway, they too found the car abandoned and decidedly lacking in Scoobyage, as Willow put it. "Great. So now what?"
"We wait", Giles sighed as he stretched out on the driver’s seat, feeling his joints groan. Not a young man anymore, Rupert.
And they did, Giles almost drifting off to sleep — it had been a long day — and Willow pacing nervously back and forth. They both snapped out of it about 20 minutes later when they heard the scream. It was so far away and so brief they only barely noticed it before it was over, but whatever it was it chilled them to the bone.
"Good Lord, what was that?"
"Giles... I don't think that was an animal."
Giles fidgeted with his glasses. "I’m sure it must have been, a-a coyote or a mountain lion or something, I’m told they can sound almost like..." He didn’t seem convinced. Something about it had sounded way too familiar.
"Oh this is ridiculous", Willow snorted and once again got out her spell book. "And don’t even try to talk me out of it, Giles. We’ve tried this yours and Buffy’s way and so far it’s gotten us a whole lot of nothing."
"And you're sure you're enough in control to..." The look from Willow, equal parts hurt and anger, shut that sentence down. "Right. So this is a... locator spell?"
"Well, technically it’s a guiding spell. Should get basically the same result, though." Willow read a page carefully, then sat down crossing her legs and focusing all her power on the doll’s eye crystal in her hands. She closed her eyes and pictured Tara’s face before she started chanting.
"Aradia, to you I plead
To take my hand and gently lead
By the trees that gently sway
By the stars that light our way
By the heavens dark above her
I beg thee, take me to my lover."
The flash when Willow disappeared into thin air was bright enough to blind Giles. He stumbled backwards, hit his head on the car door, fell and lay still. He had been unconscious for a while when a shadowy figure walked up to the van, tossed Giles in the back, hotwired it and drove off.
* * *
"Uh, Sis? Think you’re going to find the path again anytime soon?"
"This IS the path. I think."
"No, Buffy. This isn’t a path. Paths don’t have branches sticking out and poking people in the — OW!" They’d been trudging through the thickening woods for a while now. It was almost pitch dark and if Buffy hadn't been wearing white, Dawn would probably have lost sight of her ages ago. "I so don't think this is the right way. For all we know, this just goes on and on and we're going to be walking here until we die of —"
"There. See? Happy now?" Buffy interrupted her and pointed to the dirt road that appeared in front of them. "Told you this was a shortcut." They pushed through the last few bushes and got on the road — only to discover that they weren't alone. About 50 yards ahead, a large man was walking towards them. With only the moonlight they couldn't see much of him, but it looked like he was carrying something.
"Hello?" Buffy called out. "Look, I hope we're not trespassing or anything, it's just that we're looking for some friends and I guess the woods are thicker than we thought and —"
WRRRRRRM. The chainsaw roared to life, ripping the countryside silence to shreds.
"O...K. Look, I appreciate it if you wanna clear a path for us, but really, we got it covered. Thanks, though." Buffy slowly started backing away, pulling the sword out of its sheath just in case. But the man kept closing in, moving way too fast for her taste, and what the hell is with his FACE? Oh, this is not good. This is very far from good. Good has left the building and is boarding a plane to Kuala Lumpur, and I wish I could go with it. "Dawn, run back to the car!"
"But..."
"NOW!" Buffy quickly looked back at Dawn, giving her a quick shove in the other direction, but there was no time for her to check if Dawn was following orders before Leatherface bore down on her, screaming something unintelligible and waving his chainsaw back and forth in a way that was way too unpredictable for Buffy's taste. She barely managed to duck, feeling the draft as the spinning blade passed just past her ear. The swing carried him forward and she felt him tug violently at her, then stumble and lose his balance. The chainsaw sputtered and stalled as he went sprawling, Buffy saw her opening and raised the sword to —
No she didn’t. Huh. No sword. Did I drop it?
She looked down on the ground and spotted the blade by the moonlight it reflected. Huh. Weird. How could she still be holding on to the sword when it was lying three feet away from her? Because she could clearly see her hand gripping it. She stared at it for a couple of seconds before her brain did the math and concluded that yes, that was her hand holding the sword, and her arm attached to the hand, and... then the pain kicked in and she started screaming as she looked down on herself and realized her right arm ended in a geyser of blood just below the shoulder. Instinctively she tried to stop the bleeding with her left hand, but the chainsaw had made a complete mess of the wound and it was like trying to stop a river with a sieve.
Dawn hadn’t run far when she heard Buffy scream and turned back. It was too dark for her to see exactly what was happening, but it was obvious that Buffy was badly hurt and that Leatherface wasn’t. In fact, he was just getting up again. The chainsaw came back to life on the first pull. "BUFFY! Look out!"
Buffy blinked, absently wondering how Dawn could already have gotten so far away that she could barely hear her when everything else was moving so slowly. She turned just in time to duck the next swing from Leatherface’s weapon. He rammed her with all of his 300-odd pounds, stumbled again and pinned her down. Somehow she managed to kick him off her and lurched to her feet as fast as she could, but her head was spinning and she had to take a few extra steps back to steady herself. Through a deep red fog, she could see Leatherface raise the chainsaw and prepare to attack...
...then Dawn stepped between them, wielding a branch barely two feet long. "GET AWAY FROM HER!"
And Leatherface, incredibly, stopped. He lowered the chainsaw, cocked his head and looked at the young girl like he’d never seen anything like her before. "Eeen?" He took a hesitant step forward and reached out with his free hand as if to touch her.
"NO, Dawn, get... out of here!" Buffy grabbed her sister with her left arm and, using all her remaining strength, tossed her as far into the dense vegetation as she could. Ever the warrior, even despite the pain and blood loss she then tried to pick the sword up to continue fighting, but reflexes take time to adapt and her body automatically tried to use the right hand she no longer had. She forced herself to think — it was becoming harder by the second — and switch hands, but turning around to do that took a second she didn't have. As she grabbed the sword and looked up to face her killer, all she had time to see was an extreme closeup of the revving sawblade - and then she never saw anything again. For a fraction of a second, she managed to register the pain as the blade eradicated the top half of her face and Buffy's last scream blended together with the howl of the rusty Poulan 306A. Then it dissolved into a bubbling moan as the saw dug its way into her brain.
* * *
This chapter was brought to you by Poulan - the premier manufacturer of durable, high performance and affordable chain saws. With innovation like our SuperClean® system and exclusive features such as our DuraChrome® cylinders make our saws run smoother, cleaner, and longer.
Chapter 5: Run Through The Jungle
Left foot.
Buffy's dead.
Right foot.
Buffy's dead.
Left foot.
Buffy's dead.
Fall. Get up. Right foot. Left foot.
Buffy's dead.
Dawn ran for her life, not looking back, her head pounding with one single thought. The branches and brambles tore her clothes and scratched her arms, but she kept running. Buffy's dead. She didn't want to believe that. She wanted to turn back and check. Her sister was the Slayer, she'd beaten vampires, demons, werewolves, robots, the US government for Pete's sake; no way she could have been killed by a redneck with a chainsaw. No way.
And still she knew. That last scream of agony and horror, the way it had been cut off, the muffled chugga-chugga-chugga as the saw cut into... No. She couldn't have survived that. Buffy's dead. And it's my fault. Buffy had been killed, and what did she do? Run. She might not have been able to save Buffy, but she could at least have tried. She shouldn't have died alone. But that scream... it must have been incredibly painful. Dawn loved her sister, she couldn't imagine a life without her, but that was too much. She couldn't face that.
Buffy's dead.
Dawn kept running.
She ran until she hit the dirt road on the other side of the trees, and then she kept on running, the night air burning her lungs with every breath, her legs working on pure adrenaline, her eyes so itchy with tears that at first she didn't notice the headlights coming towards her. Not until she heard the brakes screeching did she realize that the van had almost run her down. "GILES!" She pounded on the driver's side door. "GILES! It's... We need to..."
The door flew open, knocking her flat on her back. "Why hi there, missy. Nice to see you again." Donnie jumped out from the driver's seat and kneeled over her. "Lost in the woods, are ya?"
"Please", Dawn sobbed. "You have to help me. PLEASE. Buffy is... there was a guy with a... a ch-chainsaw... he... and she... oh God... she's d-d-"
"Chainsaw, huh? Well that ain't right. Maybe you had better come with me up to the house and we'll sort this thing out." He opened the back door and Dawn barely had time to notice Giles lying unconscious inside before something hit her in the back of her head and she went out like a light. Donnie tossed her in with Giles and drove on, cursing his brother's sloppiness; if the girl had gotten away, they could have been in real trouble.
* * *
Tara woke with a start. She wasn't sure what had woken her up — some sort of loud noise that was over before she was conscious enough to know what it was. At first she was disoriented, but then the pain returned; both the physical pain and the knowledge that she was back in the house where she'd grown up and that her life was essentially over. For a few minutes, all she could do was stare into the darkness. Finally she switched on the light and flinched when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror; one eye completely shut, her lip swollen, blood caking under her nose... Her father had done a pretty good job. Oh well, she thought as she quickly turned the light off, It's not like anyone's going to care how I look anymore. And that set her off again. She buried her face in her pillow and let it all out. She cried so hard it was several minutes before she noticed the tapping on the window.
When your room is on the second floor, you really don't expect to see people outside it. You especially don’t expect to see a leg hanging down outside it, the boot at the end of said leg tapping anxiously on the window pane. Tara stared for a few seconds before she realized that she recognized that boot. But that was impossible. She jumped up, ran to the window and pulled down the top half. "Willow?!?"
"Hey. Little help here?" Her girlfriend was on the roof above her window, holding on to the ceiling tiles while dangling her leg off the roof looking for support.
"Why... h-h-how...?" Tara grabbed Willow's leg and guided it onto the top of the lower window half, then grabbed on to the other as Willow eased herself down off the roof.
"Spell went wonky. One second I'm talking to Giles, next I'm on this roof. You got me?"
"I-I-I got you... careful..." As Tara held on and pulled - Don't fall. Don't fall - more and more of Willow appeared in the window until she rather ungracefully tumbled into the room and Tara's arms.
Willow hugged her tight, covering her face with kisses. "I found you... I knew I would." When she noticed Tara wincing in pain, she took a step back and gasped as the moonlight fell on her lover's face. "Oh, baby, what did they do to you?"
Tara instinctively looked down, trying to hide behind her hair, ashamed of how weak she was and scared of what Willow would think of her. But Willow carefully put her hand to Tara's cheek and made her look up.
"Don’t worry, Tara. I'm not going to let those bastards hurt you again. Ever."
She leaned in and kissed Tara as gently as she could. Tara kissed her back, then suddenly froze and pushed her away with a horrified expression on her face. "No. You can't... w-why did you come here?"
"Um... I was sorta hoping the kiss gave it away?"
"No, Willow, you d-d-don't understand..." Tara backed away from her. "You have to get out of here. Didn't you get my n-n-note?"
Willow couldn't help feeling hurt by the rejection. "Well, yeah. That's kinda how we knew where to look for you. I mean, you're not saying you LIKE living like this, do you?"
"No, but... Will, my family, they're... they're dangerous."
"Hey, fighting danger for four years now, remember?" Willow's look of concern shifted to one of determination and not just a little anger. "Besides, I can be pretty darn dangerous myself when someone hurts someone else and that someone else is someone who means more to me than anyone else." She kissed Tara's forehead and took her hand. "Come on, let's..."
Just then the door to Tara's bedroom opened and Donnie walked in. "Hey, Tare, you'll never guess what me and Bubba found out in the-" He froze in the doorway, his grin widening. "Awww, ain't that sweet? So she got in here somehow? HEY, PA, COME LOOK AT THIS!"
Willow turned to face him, her fists clenching. "I'm taking Tara out of here. Get out of our way, or..."
"Or what, li'l lady?" Donnie chuckled, demonstratively putting his hands on the doorframe, blocking their exit. "You shouldn't be so cocky without your friends to back you up, if you pardon my French. That's what gets little girls hurt."
"I was so hoping you'd say that." Willow grinned coldly and closed her eyes, ignoring Tara's attempt — No, Will — to dissuade her. "Hecate, Diana, Nyx, Make mine enemies retire; Let them feel your lashes' licks; Make them cower and perspire; Or drench them in the river Styx and burn them in eternal fire..." She looked up at Donnie, her eyes black. "Now MOVE!"
Absolutely nothing happened.
Well, except for Donnie laughing. "That was kinda cute. Not my kind of poetry, I mean you're no Charlie Daniels, but still."
Willow looked to Tara, puzzled. "I don't get it, that was supposed to work...?"
"I think you'll find that magic is useless here", Tara's father said as he stepped up behind Donnie, who let him pass into the room, "When you live with witches, one of the first thing you learn is how to make them defang themselves. I had my wife put up a protection spell on this place years ago to keep all magic down. Now, Tara..." He turned to his daughter. "I don't know if you've been keeping up with your Bible studies, so here's a quiz. Complete the following sentence: Thou shalt not suffer a witch to...?"
"Please, Pa..." Tara tried to face him, tears in her eyes. "Let her go. I'll stay here, I promise, I'll never leave again, just d-d-don't hurt her."
"EEEEEE! Sorry, wrong answer." Donnie walked up to them, grabbing Willow and dragging her kicking and struggling from the room. Donnie wasn't a big guy, but he'd spent years in manual labor whereas Willow's strength had never been physical.
"NO!" Tara tried to run after them, but her father stepped in her way and pushed her to the floor.
"Don't make me hurt you again, Tara. You've done quite enough to mess up the family business already." He walked out the door, turning back as he started closing it. "After all, a family is supposed to share fairly, don't you agree? It can't be right that you're the only one who gets to eat her." He locked the door behind him.
* * *
Author's note: Just in case anyone's wondering - there WILL be some comeuppance for the bad guys eventually. But this IS a slasher movie, after all.
Chapter 6: Squeal Like A Pig
"No, Pa, PLEASE, LET HER GO!"
As Willow was dragged along the corridor, from behind her she heard Tara's father slam the door and Tara scream and she wanted to reply, tell Tara not to worry, she'd be back as soon as she could, but Donnie's hand over her mouth made it impossible. She tried to get loose, but it seemed Tara’s brother had done this sort of thing before; somehow he'd manage to grab her in a way that locked both her arms and kept her just enough off balance so she couldn't kick.
"You take good care of our guest, now, son", Tara's father called out as he went into one of the other rooms.
"You got it, Pa."
Willow bristled, too angry to be scared. Oooh, just you wait until I come back with Buffy. You'll wish you... hey, why are we going UPstairs? Indeed, instead of taking her downstairs and throwing her out, Donnie was now pulling her up a rickety staircase at the end of the hallway. Just what the heck was
(my family, they're... they're dangerous)
going on here? Half-fullness of glass: rickety staircases have railings. She hooked her feet around one of the posts and yanked as hard as she could as Donnie pulled her in the other direction, forcing him off balance, and as he shifted his grip she bit down hard on his hand.
"OW! You fuckin' bitch!"
He lost his hold and she got free, but before she could get away he kicked her hard in the ass and she went tumbling down the steps. She hit her head and within seconds he was on her again, pinning her down.
"OK, nice try, girly, I'll give ya that. Guess that answers who wears the pants between you and my sis. Ya smack her around too? She likes that, 's I recall. Least I never heard her complain."
Willow stared up at him, furious. "Then I guess when Buffy gets here, we'll see if it's a family trait."
"Buffy?" Donnie grinned. "That the li'l blonde? Because if I were you, I wouldn't hold my breath. My brother done took care of her. Said she had a big knife or somethin' and still put up less of a fight than you're doing right now. But enough talkin', dontchathink?"
"Wha...?" Willow's head was already spinning when he punched her, and she didn't struggle when he started dragging her back up the stairs by her upper arm. He's lying. He's gotta be. OK, so Buffy wasn't taking this very seriously, but still...
Donnie still kept talking. "Now, I seem to recall invitin' you over for dinner earlier, and no one's goin' to say we don't take care of our guests here. We been in the meat trade for generations, and we never really bought into all them modern methods they use in the slaughterhouses these days... prefer to do it the ol-fashioned way. 'Course, since the cows died, we have to make do with whatever meat we can find..."
They reached the top of the stairs, another corridor with a couple of doors, and Donnie's talking trailed off as he noticed Willow dizzily fumbling with something in her pocket. "Whatcha got there?" He yanked her hand out and forced it open. The doll's eye crystal. "Hey! Where the fuck d'ya get this? This was my mom's!" He backhanded her painfully into one of the walls. "You a thief too, huh? I guess I'm really going to enjoy this. HEY! OLD MAN! WAKE UP!" Donnie grabbed her again, kicking one of the doors open. "Hey Grandpa, we're gonna let you have this one!"
The stench in the small room he dragged Willow into was overpowering, making her gag. Her first thought was that it had to come from the corpse sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, but then it... he lifted his head and she realized that though the man was ancient, dirty and seemingly barely conscious of his surroundings, he wasn't quite dead. The best proof of this being that the stench came from him sitting in several weeks' worth of his own filth.
Donnie followed her gaze. "Yeah, no one can really be bothered to help him with that. That'll be your girlfriend's job once everything's back to normal. First I'll let you two get acquainted — don't worry, it's been a while, but Grandpa's still the best the slaughterhouse ever had. It won't hurt... much." He ran his fingers through her hair almost tenderly, stopping at the back of her neck. "Right here. Right above the brainstem. One crack o' the hammer and you'll be out like a light." This, of course, is where Willow started struggling and screaming for help, which only earned her another suckerpunch. Donnie put his hand over her mouth and held on to her as he dragged a large metal bucket towards the chair with his foot, picked up a small sledgehammer from it which he handed to the old man and then bent her over the bucket. "Show'er how it's done, Grandpa! Bash the bitch's head in and I'll make sure you get the best bits!"
The senile old man looked at the scene in front of him with dull eyes, not seeming to comprehend. He dropped the hammer once and Donnie had to hand it to him again. He swung feebly, only brushing against Willow's head, but on the third attempt he actually managed to land a decent hit... on Donnie's hand. The young man yelped in surprise and let go of Willow for an instant that she did not waste; she managed to worm free and as she scrambled backwards, her hand found something that had fallen on the floor.
The crystal.
Willow grabbed it and struck out at Donnie's face as he advanced on her, jamming it as hard as she could into his eye, feeling something pop and a warm liquid spurt out over her hand. The noise that came out of his throat started out as a puzzled "Huh?" and quickly mutated into a high-pitched wail as he fumbled blindly for her and toppled backwards, head-first into the bucket.
Something about the sound woke up old memories in his grandfather's cobwebbed brain. How he'd started out slaughtering pigs for his old man way back during the depression... somehow it seemed like only yesterday. The way the sun had beat down on his tanned skin, the way his muscles had ached after working for twelve hours straight, the way the pigs would always squeal in terror as they were held down, and then you'd just grab the hammer hard and... The hammer came down with force this time, cracking Donnie's skull like an egg. Maclay Senior blinked in confusion as a jet of blood hit him square in the face, then licked his lips, relishing the taste.
For a few seconds Willow could only stare at the scene - the blood, the shit, Donnie's right foot twitching like a dying fish. Then she stumbled to her feet and didn't look back, just tore out into the hallway and down the stairs to Tara's room. She tried the handle, but the door was securely locked. "Tara?"
In her room, Tara jumped to her feet and ran to the door. "Willow? Oh thank Goddess, are you OK?"
"I..." Willow shook her head, feeling like she'd gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. "I think so. Do you know where your Dad keeps the key to this door? Because I could try and break it down, but-"
"NO!" Tara thought she could feel her heart actually physically breaking, but she just couldn't bear the idea of Willow staying in this house a second longer. "Just go, Will, please, get out of here before they get a hold of you again. They won't hurt me any worse than they already have, but you they'd... please, just GO!"
Willow heard a door open further down the corridor, and for the first time she allowed herself to think rationally of what was happening. They had tried to kill her, actually really murder her, and... she clenched her teeth and pounded her fist on the door. "I'll be back, Tara. I'll get help and come back. I-I love you."
"I love you too, Will... so much... but please..."
And Willow was off towards the staircase leading down, trying to come up with a plan as she ran. Get outside. Get rid of the protection spell. Get Buffy, or Xander, or Giles. Get back in. Get Tara. Get her out. Get even. She still held on to the slimy crystal, feeling the power it held, both her own and Tara’s mother’s. As she half-ran, half-stumbled down the dark stairs she saw someone coming out into the hallway below, and as the other person stepped into the light of the single lightbulb down there and his face became visible, she breathed a sigh of relief.
"Xander, thank God! Come on, we have to get Ta..."
She froze. The figure in front of her definitely had Xander's face, but there was something... off about it. And his body. And the fact that he was wearing a red-soaked butcher's apron and carrying a huge knife... She went white as a sheet as she realized that the only Xanderness about the man blocking her way out of the house was her best friend's face, worn like an ill-fitting halloween mask over the big man's own, a stranger's eyes glaring at her through two empty holes where Xander’s eyes should be. Unsure if she was screaming, cursing or simply whimpering she ran for the door, trying to duck around the man who wailed some gibberish and struck out with the knife. Willow felt an intense pain in her stomach, did a full 360 on one of her heels before getting some kind of balance and darting out onto the porch, down the steps and finally hitting the ground hard out on the driveway.
She tried to get up, but the pain was too much; putting her hand to her belly she felt something warm, sticky and snakelike coming out and instinctively tried to push it back in as she struggled to remember what it was she was supposed to be doing, it was something important, what was it what was it what was it... she raised her eyes and looked up, seeing a dark window on the second floor. She hoped it was Tara's window and raised the hand not holding her guts in to it, as if to wave goodbye. The crystal grasped tightly in it began to glow and she remembered why she had been in such a hurry.
"Solvere."
Willow gasped the word, almost inaudible, as if her body thought it was the last breath it would ever take and didn't want to let it out. The crystal glowed stronger, shone bright for a second, then blinked out again. And everything went dark.
Continued here
Author: Beer Good (
beer_good_foamy)Timeline: Alt s5 from "Family"
Rating: NC17 !!!
Length: 20,000 or so in toto (10 chapters)
Summary: Alternate version of "Family", crossover with "Texas Chainsaw Massacre". Tara’s family kidnap her and the scoobies follow, but of course there's things Tara hasn't told them... According to some this is "completely demented" and "morbidly sadistic" but I like it.
Characters: Ensemble, focus on Willow/Tara
Warnings: ***Violence; character death; character dismemberment; cannibalism; homophobia; self-harm; family squabbles***
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters here. They belong either to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, or to whoever owns the TCM characters - if there is any justice in the world I guess that would be Tobe Hooper. If anyone knows for sure, let me know.
If you want to read me cringing and trying to justify all the nastiness in this, there's an annotated version here. You should probably read it unspoiled the first time, though.
Welcome To The Slaughterhouse
Author’s note:
1. Consider this a character death warning. *points, taps finger on it* Not kidding, folks. No one is safe. And no one is going to die cleanly, either. The NC17 rating isn't for porn. I like to think there's more to the story than just violence, but there will be a large amount of that too - so if you have a problem with that, feel free to not read the story.
2. This was originally written as part of a challenge by Axel, so thanks to him for the inspiration.
Enough caveats, I think. So let’s put some grainy old 16 mm film in the camera, load up on sunblock and fly swatters and get going with...
Chapter 1: I’m Gonna Bring You Back
Tara was almost asleep when someone knocked on her door. As she stumbled out of bed and put her robe on, she wondered who it might be; Willow had had to go to her parents for some family thing and promised to make it up to her. She checked the clock; just after 11 PM. Her birthday was in an hour, and she sighed. Since her mother died, no one had really bothered to remember it, so she wasn't exactly surprised, but... Another knock on the door shook her out of her thoughts. She opened the door.
"Hello, Tara."
Instinctively, she shied away as her father stepped into the room. Over the last six months she'd been so happy she'd almost forgotten about her family, like it was all some nightmare. She'd thought she'd gotten away clean, she'd dared to believe that she might actually have a chance at a good life. Now it all came crashing down, and she felt like she was going to faint.
Her father glared at her. "I said 'Hello, Tara'."
"H-h-hello, S-sir."
"That's more like it." He checked his watch as he dumped an empty suitcase on the floor in front of her. "I guess I got here just in time. I'd say happy birthday, but we both know it's not going to be a happy one. Pack your stuff, the car's waiting and I don't intend to spend a minute more than I have to in this place."
She stared at the floor, couldn't bear to look at him as she decided. He'd pushed her around long enough. "No."
"What was that?"
"N-no, Sir. I'm not c-coming with y-"
The punch caught her square on her cheekbone, the entire room spun around and when she tried to take a step backwards she realized she was lying on the floor. She'd forgotten how badly he could hurt her, the nausea, the helplessness. He bent over her, grabbed her by the hair and slapped her sharply to make sure she didn't pass out. She whimpered at the thought of having to go back. "No... p-p-please don't make me..."
"I was going to give you a chance to redeem yourself, Tara. You ran away from your home, leaving me and your brothers to fend for ourselves, but I was going to be the bigger man" — he slapped her again — "and let you come along of your own free will. But if this is the way you want it..." Her entire head hurt as he pulled her to her feet by her hair. He landed another punch in her gut, holding her up so she couldn't even double over. "Now. Pack. Your. Stuff. And don't get any ideas, Donnie's right outside your window. Are you going to co-operate, or do I need to..." Slowly, she nodded. "What's that, Tara?"
"Y-y-yes Sir. Tha-hank you, Sir."
"Good girl."
"Please..." Tara indicated her bathrobe. "Could you just let me get dressed?"
Her father sneered at her, thought about it then turned his back and averted his eyes like a good Christian. "Like anyone would want to see you naked anyway." As Tara picked up her clothes, she managed to find a scrap of paper in one pocket.
Willow reached her girlfriends' dorm room at exactly midnight, feeling positively giddy. Of course, she'd planned this carefully. Making Tara think she'd forgotten her birthday had made her feel awful, but she figured in about thirty seconds all of that would be forgotten. She had wine, she had presents, and she had some very naughty ideas on how to start what she figured would be Tara's best birthday ever.
As she used her key to open the door and sneak inside, she noticed how still everything was. She knew Tara usually went to bed early, but... something felt wrong. In the moonlight from the window, she saw drawers pulled open, clothes scattered every which way and an empty bed. "Tara?" Instantly worried, she put the presents down and ran into the corridor to check the bathroom. Empty. She came back to her lover's deserted room, and after a few minutes of searching found a note that chilled her to the bone. It was Tara's handwriting, but not her usual polite script; this was written quickly by someone who only had a few seconds to sum up everything she felt.
DAD FOUND ME
LOVE YOU ALWAYS
FORGET ME
Willow's knees buckled and she tumbled onto the bed, curling up around Tara's discarded bathrobe and breathing in her scent as she fought the tears. Then a determined look came on her face and she stood up.
It was late, but within forty minutes the gang had met up at Tara's room. Willow had explained and got very upset when everyone didn't immediately drop everything to go running after Tara.
"Look, Will..." Buffy, who had only found out 24 hours ago that her sister wasn't real and that something very powerful was after them both, really didn't need to cope with this as well. "Are you sure she's really in trouble?"
"Gee, I don't know, Buff. She ups and runs away in the middle of the night telling me to forget her — oh, I'm sure it's NOTHING!"
"And you're sure... I mean... sometimes things just don't work out, you know. Maybe she just went home to think things through... You've only known her for —"
"How long did you know Angel before you risked your life to save his?" Willow snapped, waving the paper in Buffy's face. "Look at this. READ it. This isn't I'm-tired-of-my-gay-experimentation-phase, this is my-crazy-psycho-dad-is-taking-me-away-for..." She couldn't finish that sentence, and looked to her oldest friend.
Xander tried for a sensible solution, turning to Giles. "Can't we call the police? This is kidnapping, isn't it?"
"Strictly speaking, I'm not sure it is. Tara isn't 21 yet, and we can't prove they've taken her against her will..." Giles took his glasses off. "Willow, he's her father. As much as it pains me to say it, how terrible could he be? What do you actually know about her family?"
"A-almost nothing", Willow admitted. "I know her mother died three years ago, and that she has three older brothers. But the way she gets when she mentions them... Giles, they've hurt her. Bad. I don't need her to tell me any details to know that. Look, I'm going after her, that's all there is to it. I wish you'd help me, but if you won't, I'll go alone."
Xander quietly got up and put his arm around her, not having to say it out loud. He was in. Anya sighed, but didn't object. Buffy exchanged a look with Giles. After all, she could bring Dawn along, and her mother's health scare from a couple of days ago seemed to be cleared up... part of her didn't mind putting a few miles between herself and whoever that woman was who had beat her up last night. "You're right, Will, I'm sorry. If you think Tara's in danger, of course we'll find her. We'll leave in the morning. Do you know where they live?"
"No." Willow's resolve face remained, but with a hint of gratitude. "But give me ten minutes with a computer and I'll have an address."
The next morning they set out in a van they'd borrowed from one of Xander's colleagues. Willow hadn't been able to find an actual address, just the name of a farm, but they figured once they got there they'd ask around. They'd brought some weapons, just in case people didn't want to answer.
As the van rolled East and the hours rolled by, everything settled into a pattern; Giles and Buffy up front bickering and discussing slayage, Anya and Dawn in the middle basically annoying each other and looking out the windows at the passing landscape, and Xander and Willow in the back. Willow had brought the doll's eye crystal Tara had given her on the night she'd first told her how she felt, and she kept twirling it around her fingers as she stared angrily out the window wishing Giles could drive faster. Xander would try to lighten the mood occasionally, but mostly he was just there for her. After several hours, he pointed out the window at the sign beside the road.
"Cheer up, Wills. It won’t be long now. See? Here we are!"
They both looked at the sign as they passed into the county where Tara had grown up.
Home of the best darn beef in the world!
Chapter 2: Sweet Hitch-hiker
Buffy felt ready to die any second. When she'd agreed to help Willow check up on Tara (she still didn't believe it would take more than a visit to either convince Tara's family to let her come back, or to assure Willow that everything was alright) she certainly hadn't expected to have to suffer like this. Anything else — say, fighting an unstoppable demon in a red dress — seemed like a picnic compared to the torture she was being subjected to right now.
She had brought CDs along for the trip, but as it turned out the van didn’t have a CD player and the tapes in the glove compartment were perfectly suited to Giles’ taste. And as if it wasn't bad enough that he was listening to it, now he was even singing along. Buffy winced and finally blurted out: "Could you STOP that? Please?"
Giles looked at her, a little amused. "You really should be listening to this, you know. Your taste in music could stand some improvement, and unlike most of what you listen to these people actually have talent and play their own instruments."
"This isn’t music, Giles, this is the sound old people make when they prepare to mate! Besides, there are... um... Oh! News! Something could be happening that we need to know about. It's important to keep up with current events, you know!" Satisfied with that excuse, Buffy popped the Creedence Clearwater Revival tape out of the stereo and switched to radio.
"...though he was frequently described by movie fans as a ‘hack’. Again, our top story: up and coming Hollywood film director Marcus Nispel found brutally murdered. Police will attempt to determine the cause of death as soon as they've been able to find all pieces of him, which so far have turned up in several -"
"Mwaaaaah!" Buffy switched the radio off, disgusted. Why couldn’t the news be about something nice every once in a while? "Fine. Listen to your Lynyrd... Zeppelin or whatever."
Giles decided to give her a break. "Did you manage to reach Riley this morning?"
"No, but I left a message for him about where we’d gone and that we’d be back in a couple of days. I hate army hospitals."
"He did have open-heart surgery just a few weeks —"
"Yeah, I know, check-ups are of the good, but still... I don’t want them tinkering with him. Besides, it would be nice to have him along. Not that I think we need a trained soldier to scare a couple of farmers if it comes to that, but..." She stopped and sniffed the air. "GOD, what’s that smell?"
Within a few seconds, even the ones in the car who didn’t have enhanced Slayer senses were rolling up windows, gagging and repeating variations on Buffy’s question.
"Slaughterhouse", Anya said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Everyone stared at her. "What? I worked Chicago in the 19th century. The whole town smelled like this. There’s probably one... oh, look." She pointed at a huge hangar-like building coming up on the right side of the road, and nudged Dawn to make sure the teenager got some education out of this. "See there? That’s where they bring the cows in. Then they use a hammer to beat them to death. It’s really quite interesting. We could probably get a guided tour if you want, Dawn. You should wear boots, though, because all the blood and brains —"
Xander noticed Dawn and Willow turning greener in the face by the second and tapped his girlfriend on the shoulder. "Ahn, honey — as fascinating as that is, another time, OK?"
Willow thought she understood why Tara didn’t eat meat if she grew up close to a place like that. She almost said so out loud, but realized how Xander would interpret the "not eating meat" part — he couldn’t help it, he was a guy — and kept her mouth shut. As she looked ahead, something caught her eye. "Hitch-hiker."
The Slayer looked ahead and nodded. Sure enough, there was a man standing a hundred yards ahead with his thumb out. "Should we pick him up?"
"Ew. He's gonna smell like a slaughterhouse", Dawn objected.
"But he might know where Tara’s family lives." No one could argue with Willow's logic here, though there was a creepy undertone of panic to it.
And so they stopped and let the guy aboard. He was in his mid-20s with an attempted beard and piercing blue eyes, dressed for hard work and, yep, reeking of sweat and slaughterhouse. Dawn schooched over as far towards Anya as she could. "Much obliged, folks. Been workin’ since Pa dropped me off this mornin’, I’m way too tired to walk all the way home. Think y’all could take me there? It’s probably a few miles out of your way, but we'd be happy to invite you for dinner by way of compensatin'..."
"That’s most generous of you", Giles replied. "Though to tell the truth, we don’t know yet how far out of our way it would be. We’re looking for a place called Sawyer Farm, you wouldn’t happen to know where that is?"
"Sawyer?" The hitch-hiker seemed to think about it. "Sorry, don’t ring a bell. What would you folks be wantin’ to go there for?"
Willow leaned forward. "My girlfriend is there."
"Your girlfriend?" He did a double take. "Sorry, sugarpie, I don’t think we got any of your sort here. Not for long, anyway."
Willow swallowed the insult. "No, she’s from around here but moved a couple of years ago. Maybe you know her? Tara Maclay?"
"Tara Maclay?" His face split into a wide and vicious grin. "Know her? You might say that! Ain’t a man in this county don’t know her, and I do mean biblically — Tara Getlaid, we used to call her. We been wondering where she got to, barn dances just ain’t the same since she left..." He turned to the horrified Willow. "Honey, I know you deviants don’t care none for morals and family values, but at least have some standards when you sin. You’re way too pretty to go to hell over a cumslut like her. Take my advice and go back home to San Fra-" The tyres screeched as Giles stomped on the brakes, causing the hitch-hiker to smash his face into the back of Buffy’s seat. "OW! Fuck d’ya do that for?"
"Get out."
The Texan shot Giles an angry glare. "Y’all sure ‘bout that? That dinner offer's still standin'..."
Xander reached up from behind and grabbed him by the collar. "Get out before I hang you out the door by your full and manly beard and drag you along for the next ten miles."
Somehow the hitch-hiker managed to look righteous as he stepped out (helped by a little push from Dawn). As Giles peeled away leaving their passenger in a cloud of dust, Willow began weeping uncontrollably, and Xander hugged her. "Will, it’ll be OK. What he said about Tara..."
"That was a lie", she sobbed. "But why would he make something like that up..." She looked up at the others, furious and scared that they might have believed him. "You hear that, that was a lie, I know for a FACT she’s never, I-I was her first... God, Tara..." She began to cry again.
"Will, of course we know. He just... some people enjoy hurting others. It's got nothing to do with you or Tara." Buffy sincerely wished she would get to hit something soon.
Her sister opened her mouth to ask how Willow could be sure, but the stare from Buffy told her this was one of those things a 14-year-old wasn’t supposed to ask. Instead Dawn looked down on the floor and saw something. "Hey, look. He dropped his wallet." She opened it up and her eye caught on the first thing she saw. "Uh, Willow... you said Tara has brothers, right?"
Willow wiped at her eyes and looked at the name on the driver’s license Dawn handed her. Donnie Maclay. She clenched her teeth. "Turn around, Giles. Right now."
As Giles did a 180 to head back for Tara’s brother, he accidentally brushed against the radio’s on/off button and Joey Ramone’s voice filled the car.
Sitting here with nothin' to do
Sitting here thinkin' only of you
But you'll never get out of there
She'll never get out of there
I don’t care, woah, Texas Ch-
Buffy turned it off again. "God, what's with this thing?"
****
Author's note: Buffy is, of course, wrong. Creedence rocks.
Chapter 3: No More Mr. Nice Guy
The van eased to a halt on the side of the road where they'd kicked Tara's brother out, but of course there was no sign of him. Everyone got out to stretch their legs, hug Willow and decide what to do next. The sun was beating down, causing them to sweat and squint as they scanned their surroundings for any sign of where he might have gone.
"OK", Buffy started. "We didn’t see any other cars in the last half hour, so he probably didn’t hitch a ride with anyone else, which means the farm must be around here somewhere. Some of these backroads look kinda bumpy though, I'm not sure the van can handle them..."
"There’s also the matter of petrol", Giles pointed out. "Unless there’s a filling station within the next few miles, I don’t fancy the idea of driving up and down to every single farm... chances are we’ll be stuck with an empty tank."
Xander nodded and opened the rear hatch of the van to grab a few water bottles. "So we split up and go on foot. Ask around. Someone around here must know where the Maclays live."
"And if they've hurt her", Willow growled as she grabbed a battle axe from the trunk and almost toppled over from its weight, "I'll bash their friggin' heads in."
Buffy shook her head and easily pried the axe from Willow's fingers. "Will, listen to me. I’m afraid for Tara too, but there will be no bashing of anybody! These are human beings we’re dealing with, don’t forget that. Now, you and Giles go that way, Xander and Anya over there", Buffy gestured back and forth, "me and Dawn follow the road, and we meet up back here when it gets dark, OK?"
Apart from Willow shooting her a look no one had any objections, and so loading up on water and putting on various hats and baseball caps to shelter them from the blazing sun they set out in different directions.
Buffy walked along the side of the road, with Dawn trudging after her, bitching and whining about how she was tired and it was too hot to be walking and why couldn’t she have stayed at home anyway?
"Because it's not sa... because Mom needs to take it easy for a few days. And besides, this morning you were more than happy to miss school."
"That was before we got stuck in the Sahara desert. I wanna go home."
"Too bad. The only way you're getting home before we find Tara is by hitch-hiking." Buffy paused. "You're NOT gonna hitch-hike."
"I saw this movie once where a girl stopped cars by pulling up her shirt and showing her bra", Dawn grumbled. "I could do that if I wanted to. Tara had better be in trouble..." The second the words were out her mouth Dawn regretted them.
Buffy spun around and glared at her. "Don't you even joke about that!"
"Oh yeah, you’re one to talk! You don't even like Tara. You never even talk to her."
"I —" Buffy stopped herself and regarded her sister... no, wait, the girl she had always thought of as her sister... no, wait, not always, just a few weeks... God, this is tricky. "Dawn... it's not that I don't like Tara, I just... don't know her that well, she's so new to the gang and we never seem to find anything to talk about. But she's everything to Willow, and that makes her part of the family no matter what. Tell you what, once we get out of here I'll make an effort to get to know her better, OK?"
If there was any subtext to that, Dawn didn’t pick up on it. "Fine. Whatever. Let's just find her." She kicked at something on the side of the road, then leaned down and picked it up. "Buffy, what's thi... ewwww!" She tossed it away, disgusted, and Buffy walked over to look.
At first, she just saw a bundle of fur and bone, then she realized what she was looking at and almost threw up. The fur — and feathers — were a couple of small animals, mice and sparrows. They'd been tied together with barbwire and fixed to a couple of bones that looked... no way. They had to be from an animal, because seriously, what were the odds of finding human bones lying by the side of a Texas road? The bundle had obviously been lying here a while since at least two of the animals had started rotting, and as she held the thing, she saw white maggots squirming in the eyes of one of the mice. Incredibly, though, one of the birds was still alive and tweeted helplessly at her. Buffy stared at the contraption for a few seconds — she couldn't quite get rid of the idea that whatever sick mind did this, they must have considered it a work of art — before tossing it far into the bush. She took a few deep breaths, reached for the water bottle and splashed some in her face.
"Buffy... who would do something like that?" Dawn was almost as green in the face as her sister was.
"Dunno. Some sick kid, probably. Never mind." Buffy pointed up ahead to the nearest farm. "Let's see if they know where Tara's folks live."
They walked up to the main building and knocked. A kindly-looking woman in her mid-40s opened, wiping her hands on a towel. "Oh hi honey, what can I do you for?"
"Hi, sorry to bother you. We're looking for a friend who lives somewhere around here, but we can't seem to find her house, and I was wondering you know where it is?"
"Sure thing honey, I know just about every square foot of this county."
"Oh thank you! Her family name is Maclay, and they live on a farm called Sawy-"
All kindness disappeared from the woman's face in a heartbeat. "Never heard of it. Get off my property before I call the sheriff." The door slammed shut.
Giles and Willow had knocked on two farmhouses to ask directions, but both of the women they had talked to made it very clear that they had never heard of a place called Sawyer Farm or a Maclay family, no way, never, nuh-uh, nope, and then slammed the door in their faces. The sun was starting to sink in the west as Giles pointed across a field at another house. "Cannot be more than a mile away. I suggest we ask there and then go back to the car, it will be dark within the hour." He started across the field, then turned back to Willow who made no attempt to follow him. "Are you coming?"
Willow was still holding the doll’s eye crystal, and now she stared intently at it as she shook her head. Then she took off her backpack, sat down and started rummaging through it, coming up with a spellbook. Giles sighed and bent down beside her. "Willow, I really don’t think that's a good idea. I realize you're upset..."
She snapped at him. "UPSET?! This isn’t upset, Giles! This is angry, and scared, and frustrated, and tired, and scared, a-and I know I said that already, but you're all joking about music and planning field trips to meat factories while Tara might be getting... I mean, did you even SEE Wrong Turn? And I know you and Buffy are still freaked by me and Tara but could you please at least pretend to care?! If you want to go waltzing around Texas asking stupid questions, fine, but I'm going to find my girlfriend!"
"Willow..." Giles chose his words carefully. "No one is, uh, 'freaked'. I admit we all were at first, except perhaps Xander, but Tara is an extraordinary woman — even more so if what you say about her family is true — and what you two have is something wonderful. I think I can relate a little to what you must going through right now; I do have some experience in the matter, as you recall." She looked down and nodded slowly; he didn't have to mention Jenny or the summer he'd spent desperately trying to find Buffy after she ran away. "But that's exactly the reason why you shouldn't be using magic. Magic requires a calm mind, emotional control. If you were to attempt it in your current state you might end up hurting yourself or someone else. Now, if you want to fall apart I completely understand, but the rest of us are trying to help you and need to keep a cool head to do that." He wiped the sweat out of his eyes. "As far as possible in this weather."
Still not looking up, Willow ran her fingers over the pages of the spellbook before putting it away and getting to her feet with a deep sigh. "You’re right, I guess. I'm just tired. It's been a long day. OK, so we try one more house and then go back and decide what to do next." She didn’t need to add that she would have some ideas of what that might be.
"Finally", Anya muttered. She and Xander had been walking for miles before coming to the only farm they could find on their side of the road. Anya could understand why no one would want to live near these people, they didn't seem to take much care in keeping up appearences; the yard was littered with rusted cars, tractors and farm equipment which looked like it hadn't been used since Coolidge was in the White House. "I thought road trips were supposed to be fun, not sweaty and angsty."
"Yeah", Xander glared at her, "if I have any more fun today I don't think I'm gonna be able to take it. Hello? Anybody home?" He knocked on the screen door, which swung open with a creak revealing a hallway that smelled dirty and dusty. He walked inside. "Hello?"
"Xander, you probably shouldn't do that. Texans protect their homes with firearms, as is their right according to the —"
"Please, Anya, can the editorial wait? I'm just looking. Hellooo?" Xander walked along the hallway, looked up the stairs, and then checked the first room on the left. "Uh... Ahn, come look at this." They both walked into what looked like a gallery for artist demons. The whole room was filled with mobiles, sculptures and various constructions. All of them stunk like death, which made sense since they were made of body parts — mostly chickens and cows, mostly just bones, but feathers and rotting meat still clung to some of them. And some of them were...
Anya pointed at one of the contraptions. "Xander — those are human skulls." They both stared at it, fighting the gag reflex and too stunned to hear the floorboards creaking behind them.
"Oh no... I've been in this movie before. Everybody out of the pool." Xander turned around to leave - and found himself face to face with a huge man in the dirtiest work clothes he'd ever seen. Well, not exactly face to face, since the man's features were hidden behind a leathery mask that looked like... Xander had time to refuse to believe that the mask was made from an actual human face before the man raised a sledgehammer and brought it down on Xander's head, smashing his skull and killing him instantly.
Anya just stared as Xander's body collapsed, a gush of blood splashing out across the floor and ruining her sneakers. Before she had time to react, Xander's attacker grabbed her and started hauling her further inside the house. For a few seconds all she could feel was shock; everything
(Xander?)
was happening too fast. She started screaming and trying to fight back as she was carried inside a room with a large butcher's table, brown from years of bloodshed, but the man was way too strong to even notice her fists pounding him. As he lifted her up, she looked behind her and had time to think that that meat hook looked way too rusty to pass inspection at any slaughterhouse she'd been to. The pain when she was impaled on it was so blindingly white she couldn’t even scream anymore. Time lost all meaning. When she opened her eyes again, the small part of her mind that wasn't busy screaming HURTS HURTS HURTS HURTS could only watch as the man tossed her dead boyfriend onto the table, fired up a chainsaw and started taking Xander's body apart.
Author's note: Leatherface of "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" is the intellectual (if you can call him that) and possibly legal property of Tobe Hooper. Remakes featuring "7th Heaven" stars suck. And I know that last scene is straight out of the movie, but let's face it, it's a classic and I had to use it. We're barely getting started.
Chapter 4: It’s Just A Flesh Wound
Dawn and Buffy got back to the van just as the sun sunk below the horizon, finding themselves alone there; another disappointment to cap a day spent failing to find out anything about Tara's family. Buffy turned on the van's headlights so the others would be able to find them easier.
"Don't worry, Dawn. They'll be back soon."
But an hour later she found herself rethinking that. There was still no sign of others, it had gotten completely dark, and Buffy was really growing concerned. Better go look for them. She realized she was hungry as well as tired; dinnertime had come and gone, and for all she knew, they were having a delicious meal in the Maclay’s kitchen right now... . She checked the weapons they’d brought along, taking a short sword just to be on the safe side; it couldn’t hurt to have something shiny to show off in case Tara’s family got violent. "OK, Dawnie, let’s go."
"No, Buffy, we can't go. What if they come back and we're not here?"
"Then they'll wait here until we get back. Dawn, this is Texas, not a hell dimension or anything, I’m sure they’re OK." Buffy walked to the edge of the road, wondering where they should check first. Willow and Giles could probably take care of themselves, so she decided to go in the direction Xander and Anya had gone off in. As the moon rose, bathing the countryside in pale light, Buffy and Dawn crossed the highway and disappeared into the woods on the other side.
When Willow and Giles turned up at the same spot a little while later, having gotten lost and spent about an hour walking in circles until they found the highway, they too found the car abandoned and decidedly lacking in Scoobyage, as Willow put it. "Great. So now what?"
"We wait", Giles sighed as he stretched out on the driver’s seat, feeling his joints groan. Not a young man anymore, Rupert.
And they did, Giles almost drifting off to sleep — it had been a long day — and Willow pacing nervously back and forth. They both snapped out of it about 20 minutes later when they heard the scream. It was so far away and so brief they only barely noticed it before it was over, but whatever it was it chilled them to the bone.
"Good Lord, what was that?"
"Giles... I don't think that was an animal."
Giles fidgeted with his glasses. "I’m sure it must have been, a-a coyote or a mountain lion or something, I’m told they can sound almost like..." He didn’t seem convinced. Something about it had sounded way too familiar.
"Oh this is ridiculous", Willow snorted and once again got out her spell book. "And don’t even try to talk me out of it, Giles. We’ve tried this yours and Buffy’s way and so far it’s gotten us a whole lot of nothing."
"And you're sure you're enough in control to..." The look from Willow, equal parts hurt and anger, shut that sentence down. "Right. So this is a... locator spell?"
"Well, technically it’s a guiding spell. Should get basically the same result, though." Willow read a page carefully, then sat down crossing her legs and focusing all her power on the doll’s eye crystal in her hands. She closed her eyes and pictured Tara’s face before she started chanting.
"Aradia, to you I plead
To take my hand and gently lead
By the trees that gently sway
By the stars that light our way
By the heavens dark above her
I beg thee, take me to my lover."
The flash when Willow disappeared into thin air was bright enough to blind Giles. He stumbled backwards, hit his head on the car door, fell and lay still. He had been unconscious for a while when a shadowy figure walked up to the van, tossed Giles in the back, hotwired it and drove off.
"Uh, Sis? Think you’re going to find the path again anytime soon?"
"This IS the path. I think."
"No, Buffy. This isn’t a path. Paths don’t have branches sticking out and poking people in the — OW!" They’d been trudging through the thickening woods for a while now. It was almost pitch dark and if Buffy hadn't been wearing white, Dawn would probably have lost sight of her ages ago. "I so don't think this is the right way. For all we know, this just goes on and on and we're going to be walking here until we die of —"
"There. See? Happy now?" Buffy interrupted her and pointed to the dirt road that appeared in front of them. "Told you this was a shortcut." They pushed through the last few bushes and got on the road — only to discover that they weren't alone. About 50 yards ahead, a large man was walking towards them. With only the moonlight they couldn't see much of him, but it looked like he was carrying something.
"Hello?" Buffy called out. "Look, I hope we're not trespassing or anything, it's just that we're looking for some friends and I guess the woods are thicker than we thought and —"
WRRRRRRM. The chainsaw roared to life, ripping the countryside silence to shreds.
"O...K. Look, I appreciate it if you wanna clear a path for us, but really, we got it covered. Thanks, though." Buffy slowly started backing away, pulling the sword out of its sheath just in case. But the man kept closing in, moving way too fast for her taste, and what the hell is with his FACE? Oh, this is not good. This is very far from good. Good has left the building and is boarding a plane to Kuala Lumpur, and I wish I could go with it. "Dawn, run back to the car!"
"But..."
"NOW!" Buffy quickly looked back at Dawn, giving her a quick shove in the other direction, but there was no time for her to check if Dawn was following orders before Leatherface bore down on her, screaming something unintelligible and waving his chainsaw back and forth in a way that was way too unpredictable for Buffy's taste. She barely managed to duck, feeling the draft as the spinning blade passed just past her ear. The swing carried him forward and she felt him tug violently at her, then stumble and lose his balance. The chainsaw sputtered and stalled as he went sprawling, Buffy saw her opening and raised the sword to —
No she didn’t. Huh. No sword. Did I drop it?
She looked down on the ground and spotted the blade by the moonlight it reflected. Huh. Weird. How could she still be holding on to the sword when it was lying three feet away from her? Because she could clearly see her hand gripping it. She stared at it for a couple of seconds before her brain did the math and concluded that yes, that was her hand holding the sword, and her arm attached to the hand, and... then the pain kicked in and she started screaming as she looked down on herself and realized her right arm ended in a geyser of blood just below the shoulder. Instinctively she tried to stop the bleeding with her left hand, but the chainsaw had made a complete mess of the wound and it was like trying to stop a river with a sieve.
Dawn hadn’t run far when she heard Buffy scream and turned back. It was too dark for her to see exactly what was happening, but it was obvious that Buffy was badly hurt and that Leatherface wasn’t. In fact, he was just getting up again. The chainsaw came back to life on the first pull. "BUFFY! Look out!"
Buffy blinked, absently wondering how Dawn could already have gotten so far away that she could barely hear her when everything else was moving so slowly. She turned just in time to duck the next swing from Leatherface’s weapon. He rammed her with all of his 300-odd pounds, stumbled again and pinned her down. Somehow she managed to kick him off her and lurched to her feet as fast as she could, but her head was spinning and she had to take a few extra steps back to steady herself. Through a deep red fog, she could see Leatherface raise the chainsaw and prepare to attack...
...then Dawn stepped between them, wielding a branch barely two feet long. "GET AWAY FROM HER!"
And Leatherface, incredibly, stopped. He lowered the chainsaw, cocked his head and looked at the young girl like he’d never seen anything like her before. "Eeen?" He took a hesitant step forward and reached out with his free hand as if to touch her.
"NO, Dawn, get... out of here!" Buffy grabbed her sister with her left arm and, using all her remaining strength, tossed her as far into the dense vegetation as she could. Ever the warrior, even despite the pain and blood loss she then tried to pick the sword up to continue fighting, but reflexes take time to adapt and her body automatically tried to use the right hand she no longer had. She forced herself to think — it was becoming harder by the second — and switch hands, but turning around to do that took a second she didn't have. As she grabbed the sword and looked up to face her killer, all she had time to see was an extreme closeup of the revving sawblade - and then she never saw anything again. For a fraction of a second, she managed to register the pain as the blade eradicated the top half of her face and Buffy's last scream blended together with the howl of the rusty Poulan 306A. Then it dissolved into a bubbling moan as the saw dug its way into her brain.
This chapter was brought to you by Poulan - the premier manufacturer of durable, high performance and affordable chain saws. With innovation like our SuperClean® system and exclusive features such as our DuraChrome® cylinders make our saws run smoother, cleaner, and longer.
Chapter 5: Run Through The Jungle
Left foot.
Buffy's dead.
Right foot.
Buffy's dead.
Left foot.
Buffy's dead.
Fall. Get up. Right foot. Left foot.
Buffy's dead.
Dawn ran for her life, not looking back, her head pounding with one single thought. The branches and brambles tore her clothes and scratched her arms, but she kept running. Buffy's dead. She didn't want to believe that. She wanted to turn back and check. Her sister was the Slayer, she'd beaten vampires, demons, werewolves, robots, the US government for Pete's sake; no way she could have been killed by a redneck with a chainsaw. No way.
And still she knew. That last scream of agony and horror, the way it had been cut off, the muffled chugga-chugga-chugga as the saw cut into... No. She couldn't have survived that. Buffy's dead. And it's my fault. Buffy had been killed, and what did she do? Run. She might not have been able to save Buffy, but she could at least have tried. She shouldn't have died alone. But that scream... it must have been incredibly painful. Dawn loved her sister, she couldn't imagine a life without her, but that was too much. She couldn't face that.
Buffy's dead.
Dawn kept running.
She ran until she hit the dirt road on the other side of the trees, and then she kept on running, the night air burning her lungs with every breath, her legs working on pure adrenaline, her eyes so itchy with tears that at first she didn't notice the headlights coming towards her. Not until she heard the brakes screeching did she realize that the van had almost run her down. "GILES!" She pounded on the driver's side door. "GILES! It's... We need to..."
The door flew open, knocking her flat on her back. "Why hi there, missy. Nice to see you again." Donnie jumped out from the driver's seat and kneeled over her. "Lost in the woods, are ya?"
"Please", Dawn sobbed. "You have to help me. PLEASE. Buffy is... there was a guy with a... a ch-chainsaw... he... and she... oh God... she's d-d-"
"Chainsaw, huh? Well that ain't right. Maybe you had better come with me up to the house and we'll sort this thing out." He opened the back door and Dawn barely had time to notice Giles lying unconscious inside before something hit her in the back of her head and she went out like a light. Donnie tossed her in with Giles and drove on, cursing his brother's sloppiness; if the girl had gotten away, they could have been in real trouble.
Tara woke with a start. She wasn't sure what had woken her up — some sort of loud noise that was over before she was conscious enough to know what it was. At first she was disoriented, but then the pain returned; both the physical pain and the knowledge that she was back in the house where she'd grown up and that her life was essentially over. For a few minutes, all she could do was stare into the darkness. Finally she switched on the light and flinched when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror; one eye completely shut, her lip swollen, blood caking under her nose... Her father had done a pretty good job. Oh well, she thought as she quickly turned the light off, It's not like anyone's going to care how I look anymore. And that set her off again. She buried her face in her pillow and let it all out. She cried so hard it was several minutes before she noticed the tapping on the window.
When your room is on the second floor, you really don't expect to see people outside it. You especially don’t expect to see a leg hanging down outside it, the boot at the end of said leg tapping anxiously on the window pane. Tara stared for a few seconds before she realized that she recognized that boot. But that was impossible. She jumped up, ran to the window and pulled down the top half. "Willow?!?"
"Hey. Little help here?" Her girlfriend was on the roof above her window, holding on to the ceiling tiles while dangling her leg off the roof looking for support.
"Why... h-h-how...?" Tara grabbed Willow's leg and guided it onto the top of the lower window half, then grabbed on to the other as Willow eased herself down off the roof.
"Spell went wonky. One second I'm talking to Giles, next I'm on this roof. You got me?"
"I-I-I got you... careful..." As Tara held on and pulled - Don't fall. Don't fall - more and more of Willow appeared in the window until she rather ungracefully tumbled into the room and Tara's arms.
Willow hugged her tight, covering her face with kisses. "I found you... I knew I would." When she noticed Tara wincing in pain, she took a step back and gasped as the moonlight fell on her lover's face. "Oh, baby, what did they do to you?"
Tara instinctively looked down, trying to hide behind her hair, ashamed of how weak she was and scared of what Willow would think of her. But Willow carefully put her hand to Tara's cheek and made her look up.
"Don’t worry, Tara. I'm not going to let those bastards hurt you again. Ever."
She leaned in and kissed Tara as gently as she could. Tara kissed her back, then suddenly froze and pushed her away with a horrified expression on her face. "No. You can't... w-why did you come here?"
"Um... I was sorta hoping the kiss gave it away?"
"No, Willow, you d-d-don't understand..." Tara backed away from her. "You have to get out of here. Didn't you get my n-n-note?"
Willow couldn't help feeling hurt by the rejection. "Well, yeah. That's kinda how we knew where to look for you. I mean, you're not saying you LIKE living like this, do you?"
"No, but... Will, my family, they're... they're dangerous."
"Hey, fighting danger for four years now, remember?" Willow's look of concern shifted to one of determination and not just a little anger. "Besides, I can be pretty darn dangerous myself when someone hurts someone else and that someone else is someone who means more to me than anyone else." She kissed Tara's forehead and took her hand. "Come on, let's..."
Just then the door to Tara's bedroom opened and Donnie walked in. "Hey, Tare, you'll never guess what me and Bubba found out in the-" He froze in the doorway, his grin widening. "Awww, ain't that sweet? So she got in here somehow? HEY, PA, COME LOOK AT THIS!"
Willow turned to face him, her fists clenching. "I'm taking Tara out of here. Get out of our way, or..."
"Or what, li'l lady?" Donnie chuckled, demonstratively putting his hands on the doorframe, blocking their exit. "You shouldn't be so cocky without your friends to back you up, if you pardon my French. That's what gets little girls hurt."
"I was so hoping you'd say that." Willow grinned coldly and closed her eyes, ignoring Tara's attempt — No, Will — to dissuade her. "Hecate, Diana, Nyx, Make mine enemies retire; Let them feel your lashes' licks; Make them cower and perspire; Or drench them in the river Styx and burn them in eternal fire..." She looked up at Donnie, her eyes black. "Now MOVE!"
Absolutely nothing happened.
Well, except for Donnie laughing. "That was kinda cute. Not my kind of poetry, I mean you're no Charlie Daniels, but still."
Willow looked to Tara, puzzled. "I don't get it, that was supposed to work...?"
"I think you'll find that magic is useless here", Tara's father said as he stepped up behind Donnie, who let him pass into the room, "When you live with witches, one of the first thing you learn is how to make them defang themselves. I had my wife put up a protection spell on this place years ago to keep all magic down. Now, Tara..." He turned to his daughter. "I don't know if you've been keeping up with your Bible studies, so here's a quiz. Complete the following sentence: Thou shalt not suffer a witch to...?"
"Please, Pa..." Tara tried to face him, tears in her eyes. "Let her go. I'll stay here, I promise, I'll never leave again, just d-d-don't hurt her."
"EEEEEE! Sorry, wrong answer." Donnie walked up to them, grabbing Willow and dragging her kicking and struggling from the room. Donnie wasn't a big guy, but he'd spent years in manual labor whereas Willow's strength had never been physical.
"NO!" Tara tried to run after them, but her father stepped in her way and pushed her to the floor.
"Don't make me hurt you again, Tara. You've done quite enough to mess up the family business already." He walked out the door, turning back as he started closing it. "After all, a family is supposed to share fairly, don't you agree? It can't be right that you're the only one who gets to eat her." He locked the door behind him.
Author's note: Just in case anyone's wondering - there WILL be some comeuppance for the bad guys eventually. But this IS a slasher movie, after all.
Chapter 6: Squeal Like A Pig
"No, Pa, PLEASE, LET HER GO!"
As Willow was dragged along the corridor, from behind her she heard Tara's father slam the door and Tara scream and she wanted to reply, tell Tara not to worry, she'd be back as soon as she could, but Donnie's hand over her mouth made it impossible. She tried to get loose, but it seemed Tara’s brother had done this sort of thing before; somehow he'd manage to grab her in a way that locked both her arms and kept her just enough off balance so she couldn't kick.
"You take good care of our guest, now, son", Tara's father called out as he went into one of the other rooms.
"You got it, Pa."
Willow bristled, too angry to be scared. Oooh, just you wait until I come back with Buffy. You'll wish you... hey, why are we going UPstairs? Indeed, instead of taking her downstairs and throwing her out, Donnie was now pulling her up a rickety staircase at the end of the hallway. Just what the heck was
(my family, they're... they're dangerous)
going on here? Half-fullness of glass: rickety staircases have railings. She hooked her feet around one of the posts and yanked as hard as she could as Donnie pulled her in the other direction, forcing him off balance, and as he shifted his grip she bit down hard on his hand.
"OW! You fuckin' bitch!"
He lost his hold and she got free, but before she could get away he kicked her hard in the ass and she went tumbling down the steps. She hit her head and within seconds he was on her again, pinning her down.
"OK, nice try, girly, I'll give ya that. Guess that answers who wears the pants between you and my sis. Ya smack her around too? She likes that, 's I recall. Least I never heard her complain."
Willow stared up at him, furious. "Then I guess when Buffy gets here, we'll see if it's a family trait."
"Buffy?" Donnie grinned. "That the li'l blonde? Because if I were you, I wouldn't hold my breath. My brother done took care of her. Said she had a big knife or somethin' and still put up less of a fight than you're doing right now. But enough talkin', dontchathink?"
"Wha...?" Willow's head was already spinning when he punched her, and she didn't struggle when he started dragging her back up the stairs by her upper arm. He's lying. He's gotta be. OK, so Buffy wasn't taking this very seriously, but still...
Donnie still kept talking. "Now, I seem to recall invitin' you over for dinner earlier, and no one's goin' to say we don't take care of our guests here. We been in the meat trade for generations, and we never really bought into all them modern methods they use in the slaughterhouses these days... prefer to do it the ol-fashioned way. 'Course, since the cows died, we have to make do with whatever meat we can find..."
They reached the top of the stairs, another corridor with a couple of doors, and Donnie's talking trailed off as he noticed Willow dizzily fumbling with something in her pocket. "Whatcha got there?" He yanked her hand out and forced it open. The doll's eye crystal. "Hey! Where the fuck d'ya get this? This was my mom's!" He backhanded her painfully into one of the walls. "You a thief too, huh? I guess I'm really going to enjoy this. HEY! OLD MAN! WAKE UP!" Donnie grabbed her again, kicking one of the doors open. "Hey Grandpa, we're gonna let you have this one!"
The stench in the small room he dragged Willow into was overpowering, making her gag. Her first thought was that it had to come from the corpse sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, but then it... he lifted his head and she realized that though the man was ancient, dirty and seemingly barely conscious of his surroundings, he wasn't quite dead. The best proof of this being that the stench came from him sitting in several weeks' worth of his own filth.
Donnie followed her gaze. "Yeah, no one can really be bothered to help him with that. That'll be your girlfriend's job once everything's back to normal. First I'll let you two get acquainted — don't worry, it's been a while, but Grandpa's still the best the slaughterhouse ever had. It won't hurt... much." He ran his fingers through her hair almost tenderly, stopping at the back of her neck. "Right here. Right above the brainstem. One crack o' the hammer and you'll be out like a light." This, of course, is where Willow started struggling and screaming for help, which only earned her another suckerpunch. Donnie put his hand over her mouth and held on to her as he dragged a large metal bucket towards the chair with his foot, picked up a small sledgehammer from it which he handed to the old man and then bent her over the bucket. "Show'er how it's done, Grandpa! Bash the bitch's head in and I'll make sure you get the best bits!"
The senile old man looked at the scene in front of him with dull eyes, not seeming to comprehend. He dropped the hammer once and Donnie had to hand it to him again. He swung feebly, only brushing against Willow's head, but on the third attempt he actually managed to land a decent hit... on Donnie's hand. The young man yelped in surprise and let go of Willow for an instant that she did not waste; she managed to worm free and as she scrambled backwards, her hand found something that had fallen on the floor.
The crystal.
Willow grabbed it and struck out at Donnie's face as he advanced on her, jamming it as hard as she could into his eye, feeling something pop and a warm liquid spurt out over her hand. The noise that came out of his throat started out as a puzzled "Huh?" and quickly mutated into a high-pitched wail as he fumbled blindly for her and toppled backwards, head-first into the bucket.
Something about the sound woke up old memories in his grandfather's cobwebbed brain. How he'd started out slaughtering pigs for his old man way back during the depression... somehow it seemed like only yesterday. The way the sun had beat down on his tanned skin, the way his muscles had ached after working for twelve hours straight, the way the pigs would always squeal in terror as they were held down, and then you'd just grab the hammer hard and... The hammer came down with force this time, cracking Donnie's skull like an egg. Maclay Senior blinked in confusion as a jet of blood hit him square in the face, then licked his lips, relishing the taste.
For a few seconds Willow could only stare at the scene - the blood, the shit, Donnie's right foot twitching like a dying fish. Then she stumbled to her feet and didn't look back, just tore out into the hallway and down the stairs to Tara's room. She tried the handle, but the door was securely locked. "Tara?"
In her room, Tara jumped to her feet and ran to the door. "Willow? Oh thank Goddess, are you OK?"
"I..." Willow shook her head, feeling like she'd gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson. "I think so. Do you know where your Dad keeps the key to this door? Because I could try and break it down, but-"
"NO!" Tara thought she could feel her heart actually physically breaking, but she just couldn't bear the idea of Willow staying in this house a second longer. "Just go, Will, please, get out of here before they get a hold of you again. They won't hurt me any worse than they already have, but you they'd... please, just GO!"
Willow heard a door open further down the corridor, and for the first time she allowed herself to think rationally of what was happening. They had tried to kill her, actually really murder her, and... she clenched her teeth and pounded her fist on the door. "I'll be back, Tara. I'll get help and come back. I-I love you."
"I love you too, Will... so much... but please..."
And Willow was off towards the staircase leading down, trying to come up with a plan as she ran. Get outside. Get rid of the protection spell. Get Buffy, or Xander, or Giles. Get back in. Get Tara. Get her out. Get even. She still held on to the slimy crystal, feeling the power it held, both her own and Tara’s mother’s. As she half-ran, half-stumbled down the dark stairs she saw someone coming out into the hallway below, and as the other person stepped into the light of the single lightbulb down there and his face became visible, she breathed a sigh of relief.
"Xander, thank God! Come on, we have to get Ta..."
She froze. The figure in front of her definitely had Xander's face, but there was something... off about it. And his body. And the fact that he was wearing a red-soaked butcher's apron and carrying a huge knife... She went white as a sheet as she realized that the only Xanderness about the man blocking her way out of the house was her best friend's face, worn like an ill-fitting halloween mask over the big man's own, a stranger's eyes glaring at her through two empty holes where Xander’s eyes should be. Unsure if she was screaming, cursing or simply whimpering she ran for the door, trying to duck around the man who wailed some gibberish and struck out with the knife. Willow felt an intense pain in her stomach, did a full 360 on one of her heels before getting some kind of balance and darting out onto the porch, down the steps and finally hitting the ground hard out on the driveway.
She tried to get up, but the pain was too much; putting her hand to her belly she felt something warm, sticky and snakelike coming out and instinctively tried to push it back in as she struggled to remember what it was she was supposed to be doing, it was something important, what was it what was it what was it... she raised her eyes and looked up, seeing a dark window on the second floor. She hoped it was Tara's window and raised the hand not holding her guts in to it, as if to wave goodbye. The crystal grasped tightly in it began to glow and she remembered why she had been in such a hurry.
"Solvere."
Willow gasped the word, almost inaudible, as if her body thought it was the last breath it would ever take and didn't want to let it out. The crystal glowed stronger, shone bright for a second, then blinked out again. And everything went dark.
Continued here
