FIC: Ashes02-You Call Me

[Mad-Hamlet@xxxxxxx]

Disclaimer: BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Inc. The Crow
is property of J.O'Barr.


Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Presents
A Mad-Hamlet Production

There were three crows, sat on a tree.
They're as black as crows can be.
One of them said to the mate:
What shall we do for grub to eat?
There's an old dead horse in yonder's lane,
Whose body has been lately slain.
We'll fly upon his old breast bone,
and pluck his eyes out one by one.
- A traditional balad



Ashes, Ashes, They All Fell Down
Part the Second

You Call me Trickster
You Call me Judge
You Call me Carrion Eater
You Call me Messenger


She strode up the sunlit path to her small, three room home.
The one she shared with her roomate, her friend, her sister.

Her lover.

The signs of the sudden storm the night before were still
evident. Branches, leaves..even the occasional bough, all lay on the
ground in mute testitomony to the power unleashed the night before.
The news was full of reports. 'Experts' with explinations and idiotic
commantary on how 'surprising' the whole thing had been.

She hadn't been surprised. She'd known it was coming. For the
past few weeks a charge had been building. She could feel it. All her
sisters had been able to. A sense of expectation, of potential, of
power, beyond magic or reality and far above the constant level of
energy that was flung outward from the Hellmouth. Last night it had
finally happened.

Just what had happened she wasn't sure. Cleansing rituals had
not worked, scrying, pleading with powers, even invocations had done
nothing to deter whatever that had come, from coming. The only clue
given at any attempts at divination had been an odd sound. As of
something soft whipping through the air. Like feathers on wings.

The signifigance of the day was not lost on the young woman,
supernatural occurances aside. And indeed the storm had been just
that, or, more accurately, the byproduct of a supernatural event.
The evening before had marked the third anniversary of...

Even now, three years later she couldn't really give that
event a name, a lable, in her mind. Was either because it was too
horrible to think of? Or was it that giving it a name might numb her
to the tragedy? She couldn't say, but in either respect, she couldn't
actually give the event a name.

Her time with them had been so short, and very painful.
Despite both factors against, she treasured the memories, both for her
folly, and how it had taught her and made her better.




"Let her go," Willow said simply. "She'll never do anything
like this again. Will you, Tara?"



Looking back on it, the young woman decided, she must have
completly out of her mind to do what she had done, or tried to do.




"You have my word," Tara nodded. "I know better now than to
break up what was meant to be. Keep the book, Willow. Don't let anyone
use that spell again, it's too p-powerful." As she started for the
door, she looked at Buffy, and said, "You are so lucky."




Of course in that context she had been wrong, like usal. And
it had been Buffy, ironically, who had been correct.



"I know it," Buffy agreed, too happy to be reunited with
Willow to stay angry at Tara. "You'll find someone. Just give it
time."




Yes. She decided, walking up the steps that lead to her front
door. Buffy had been right after all. Turning her key in the lock, she
was pleased to find the latch undone, that meant her lover was home
from classes already.

Tara Maclay stepped through the front door. "Amy? I'm home."

***

'The human mind is a funny thing.' The girl decided.

She hadn't moved since collapsing in the rain the night
before. The sun had risen, the clouds moved on, occasional birds flew
from branch to branch singing. Looking for breakfast and singing.
Pecking through mud and filth and earth looking for things that
themselves oozed through mud and earth and filth. Called it home.
Singing birds looked for these things to eat. And sang while doing so.

Except the one she belonged too. Oh it hopped, and pecked, and
scratched, and searched for flesh among the mud like the rest, it just
had the grace to not act all pretty while doing so.

'Yes.' She repeated mentally. 'The mind is a strage thing.
Even dead ones.'

Even now the pain and hate and rage bit at her, gnawed on the
insides with eternal teeth but she didn't care to scream, or cry any
longer. She had 'adapted'. She had grown 'accustomed' to the tearing
and the tears. She had 'come to grips' with what had been done and how
it could not be unmade.

Like her baby had been unmade.

In a flash of steel and biting white, her daughter had
been undone.

But she couldn't cry anymore at the thoughts. She had
'accepted' it. So why was she crying again then?

More time passed on by as it is it's wont to do. Singing,
pecking, birds marked it's passage as they continued plowing the muddy
earth. She saw none of this though, she had not seen much at all since
her rebirth. Except certain things, played over and over across the
mind's eye, each time a little longer, each time a little clearer.
Over and over the memories played on, teasing with more to show,
cutting with sharper edges.




"Red, this is going to hurt you a lot more than it will me."
Faith smiled over the blade that hovered in front of her eyes.
"Reconsidered, I realise it won't hurt me at all. I'll probably have a
hell of time cleaning the stains up...but...I think it'll be worth
it."



Then came pain. Pain in memory is odd, she never had been ever
to really remember it before. Many times she had recalled falling off
her biycle when she was a child. She never had managed to remember
what it felt like when her head had impacted with the concrete though.
This pain was different.



Every unholy second was lovingly recorded in her mind. From
the initial sliding sentastion of white lightning piercing her, the
coppery taste of blood flooding the back of her own throat, to the
stomach churning feeling of fingers fumbling around _inside_ to the
very ending of Faith's shriek of truimph. By then, thankfully, she had
grown too weak to keep her own eyes open.

She could hear though.

A wet sound of something soft hitting something hard. At
violent speeds.

Of her labored breathing.

Faith's laughter, she remembered that too. Above Faith's
cackle though she remembered..hearing...Buffy. A light whisper, barely
capable of floating across the space seperating them. But she heard.


"I'll wait for you...Willow. I'll wait for you....both."

Then Faith. "Well B, had my fun, don't need you anymore do
we?"

The sound of flesh parting before steel again, grating across
bone.

Then she hadn't even heard her wife's breathing at all.

"And to wrap things up." Faith had chuckled. "I'll be nice.
I'm feeling too groovy, too shake your think oh funky one good, to be
mean. I'll do you quick Red. Call in a consolation prize."

Fingers had wrapped themselves in her hair, warm steel bit her
neck.

Her last thought's, from before, came to her then.

'It's not fair. It's not fair. It shouldn't have been this
way. It's not fair, it's not fair..It shouldn't have been this way, I
won't let it end like this. I won't! I won't! I wo-'



A sharp jab in her side snapped her back to the now.

It stood before the girl, abyssal eyes unblinking in the
dawning sun, reflecting nothing, absorbing all. She looked at it, it
looked at her.

They stayed like this for some time. Not moving, around the
them the day continued to pass, the woods became more alive as those
who lived within were woken from their slumber by mornings progress.

The girl pulled herself to her feet, breaking eye contact with
the black bird that stood in front of her.

It studied her carefully. She had not been like the others;
confused, yes, suffering, yes..but that burning rage so common in all
the others. That was lacking. She did not follow it, she did not
understand it. It hadn't been mistaken had it? This had never happened
before. Ever.

The girl rested her forearm on the trunk of a great tree then
rested her forehead on her arm. She had loved the woods once. She
would come here, sometimes with her other, her lover, her wife, and
they would touch the trees.




"Can't you feel it Buffy?"

"Uh...bark?"

"No ya dummy, life! It's so powerful here. This one in
particular..he's old you know. But strong and full of living. I can
feel it."

And she would lay her hands on the rough surface and feel the
deep, slow thrumbing of ancient hearts.

"Are you sure I'm doing the right Willow?" Buffy had asked.

"All you have to do it touch the tree Buffy."

"It's too rough, isn't there anything else I can touch?" She
had pouted when saying that. Sticking out her lower lip just a bit,
just enough so, if she was inclinded Willow could have caught it
between her own. "Something soft? Something warm?"


"I...think something can be arranged." The stillness of that
night have been briefly, quietly, interupted with the rustle of
clothing dropping to the forest floor.

"Mmm..very soft."



The girl didn't cry anymore. Shadowed under the canopy of
leaves, face downcast, realising that memory too was lost, that she
couldn't feel the trees anymore, that she couldn't feel the touch
anymore, that her connection was lost, that her love was lost,
realising all this she didn't cry.

Lips, unused to such hateful actions followed commands anyway.
A snarl, a curve of flesh that bared teeth. Fingers against ancient
wood curled once more and tore bark, crushing it with enough strength
to punch the splinters through the flesh. What she took from the tree
she returned to the forest with blood.

And she didn't cry. She spoke. One word.

"Faith."

It watched from nearby, perched on a rotten log; ignoring, for
the moment, a fat grub it had revealed choosing instead to watch her.

It was about time.

***



"Amy?" Tara called into the house.

"Kitchen." Came the reply.

Kicking off her shoes, and setting her books on a nearby table
she made her way past the one plaster wall that seperated the main
room from the kitchen. Amy was standing in front of a large pot in
which...something...was bubbling. It didn't smell like any concoction
Tara recognised though.

Amy's hands were on her hips and she was glaring at the stuff.

"Lunch?" Tara asked sliding her arms around Amy's waist and
staring down at the bowl over the brunnette's shoulder.

"In theroy." Amy quipped. "But I'm not willing to eat it."

"Well, if the chef isn't having any..." Tara murmered.

"Order pizza?" Amy asked resting her hands atop of Tara's.

With a loud WHOOMPH the material in the pot caught fire.

"Let's go out." Amy relied backing away quickly.

***

The sun was setting as the young couple worked there way back
to their abode.
An orange glow lit the horizon sending a cascade of colors that
deepened in hue to the black of night as it swept across infinity.

Tara walked with both hands on her belly, taking little tiny
steps, her expression wasn't very happy.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into trying pineapples on
my pizza." She groaned.

"Well...you're the vegetarian in the family." Amy protested.
She was walking backwards so she could see Tara as they went home. She
stopped, put one hand on Tara's shoulder and used the other to cup the
blonde's chin and tilt her head up so they were eye to eye.

"I'll rub your belly when we get home." Amy whispered.

Tara smiled shyly. "That would probably help."

"No more pineapples?" Amy returned the smile.

"Well... if you promise to take care of me afterwards..maybe."
Tara's eyes broke the contact.

Amy noticed a shape in the sky flying in their direction, it
seemed to soak up what little light in there was, absorbing it,
consuming it. It let out a cry.

Tara noticed where her lover was starting. "What is it?" She
asked looking in the same direction.

"A crow." Amy answered. "I think."

She paused, a thoughtful expression on her face. "If I recall
correctly..." She murmered quietly.

"Okay." She said pointing at the setting sun. "That's west..."
She turned to the few stars that were in the sky. "I think that's the
North Star." She said pointing overhead..so..it was approaching us
from the south.

"Oh." Tara said quietly. "I think I know where your going with
this..uh..a crow from the south means a friend is coming..doesn't it?
Or is that Southeast?"

Amy shook her head. "No. Southeast means evil. Misfortune."

"Let's hope it was South then." Tara replied quickly. "I'd
rather not have evil visiting us."

Amy hooked her arm through Tara's. "I don't want anyone
visiting us." She said simply.

Walking in step for a minute Tara finally took the bait. "Why
not?"

"I have bellies to rub!" Amy was wearing a truimphant smirk.

"Oh. Right. Ow my tummy! My poor poor tummy."

***

The walk home went swiftly. The actual sun had dipped below
the edge of the world by the time they reached the walkway leading to
their front door. Both had seen, and knew, too much to be foolish
enought to dawdle about in the night.

Amy had Tara in a playful headlock as they walked up the path.
"Now I have you girly, and your little dog too!" She cackled.

"Oh no!" Tara squealed playing along. "A big, mean, witch has
me prisoner! Whatever shall I do?"

Letting Tara's head go Amy pulled her up so they were eye to
eye, faces only an inch apart. "Suffer." She murmered.

"Not likely." Tara whispered back before sliding through the
rest of the space, intending to go for a kiss. Amy's lips, not being
where she expected them to be, didn't allow that. Opening her eyes
Tara saw Amy staring over her shoulder with a nervous look on her
face.

"Amy? What is it?" She turned around herself. The front door
of their cozy little home was slightly ajar. The crack of darkness
from within, in the greater darknes without, made the cozy factor less
so. Now the house appeared...hungry.

"Did...did you leave the door unlocked?" Amy whispered.

"No of course not." Tara whispered back. "Should we call the
police?"

"If it's what we're afraid of, what help would they be?" Amy
replied. "Open the door Tara."

"What?" Tara nearlly shouted spinning to face her love she saw
that Amy's eyes were blackened over. The air around her was heavy and
potent with raw mayhaps. Certinties and absolutes that had been forged
in the maw of creation were not any more, at least in the area around
the brunette witch.

"Open the door." Amy repeated through gritted teeth. "Whatever
it is, I'm ready."

***

The door creaked open slowly, casting long shadows of the two
girls down the front hallway, born of what little light remained in
the heavens. These newborn were quickly swallowed by the greater
darkness within.

. As her eyes adjusted to the inner darkness she began to make
out details. Silioutes of furniture, the lamp, the fresh flowers on
the tiny table between the sofa and the television. And on the sofa...

The little light struggled feebly across the room,
highlighting red hair and pale skin. A face, half lit, half dark
lifted itself upright and green eyes weakly stared into brown.
"T..Tara?" A broken voice croaked. "H..he..help me."

"No." Tara whispered. "W..W...Willow..it..it c-can't be.."
Terror took form and forced her incapable of movement. Her mind no
longer was there, her soul twisting in some hellish gale from inside
that rent walls and barriers, half healed wounds tore apart and bled
anew as she beheld what had never been hers yet she had loved.

"Tara!" A commanding voice bellowed from behind her. "Move!"

The sharp command snapped her free and she dove to the side.
The girl on the sofa had half gotten to her feet, one hand held out
placitingly, pleading for time, time she would not be given.

"Nanshe I call thee to judge before me!" Amy snarled out. The
power lifted her off the ground and half seen whispers of form began
to whirl around her.

"Utu bind this mockery of flesh and friend!" The eldritch
light blazed brighter and flew faster about the witch in concentric
circles.

"Ninisinna heal this degraded form and let the soul rest, may
you three banishish this cthonic blasphemy!" The spell ended with a
shriek of rage and as the light focused about Amy's outstreched hands
the the redhead flung her hands up in a vain attempt to ward off a
very tear in reality from rending her apart.

Warped space lept across the room to devour the intruder, it
spun and about her body, invading the body, burrowing within the
flesh, trying to find the corruption and annhilate it. She screamed.
Back arched, light blazing from behind her eyes, from out her widened
mouth, it blazed and burned and tore.

And faded.

Leaving her gasping but still very much there in the living
room of the two witches.

The redhead slumped to the ground, have supporting herself on
the edge of the sofa.

"Okay." Amy growled out. "That didn't work. Time for the big
guns."

Tara, still lost in a haze could only look on in fear as her
lover again took flight, the power and rage boosting her already
formidable abilities.

A sharp rapping on the window disturbed the conflict before
any more escalation was possible.

Three heads turned to the window. Backlit by the the last
golden rays of the sun, as if ringed in flame, on the sill, stood a
crow. It's black eyes peered through the glass, swinging first to the
redhead still sprawled upon the floor, she didn't raise her head to
meet it's stare. Then it's eyes moved to the brunnete who was wrapped
in an aura of rage and power. She had black eyes of her own, a
marking, a symbol of her heritage and what she was. But her's were
nothing. A newborne fawn, mewling on the forest floor. They melted
away before ancient, obsidian, eyes. As her power faded she landed
back on the ground, no longer buyoed against gravity's will. Finally
the black, feathered, head turned to the blonde. She too lay on the
ground, not having moved since flinging herself there in obediance to
her lovers's commands. She met it's eyes, briefly before looking down
the floor in supplication.

"Amy, c..could you please open the window?" Tara said quietly.

"What?" Amy hissed, her eyes never leaving the black bird on
the other side.

"Open the w..window." Tara repeated.

"Tara, I really don't..." Amy began.

"Do it." Tara quietly insisted. "I..I think.." And her voice
drifted away as, almost against her will she looked from the redhead
to the bird and back to the redhead.

A look of such sadness passed over her features. Amy didn't
understand what was happening. She could only watch as silent tears
slid down Tara's face and were soaked up by the fuzzy blue rug that
lined the floor. A powerful impulse swept over her, she wanted to
swoop down and hold the blonde. To comfort and heal, whatever was
wrong. To help her forget ...forget..forget whatever terrible
something this was she was seeing.

She took a step, arms begining to outstrech when Tara's open
palm, held up as a clear 'stop' command, interupted her.

"Now now." Tara whispers huskily. "We...we don't have time.
I'm fine. Really. Just, open the window. P..please."

Without a word Amy stepped around where Tara still lay and
reached for the latch binding the window shut. Carefully stanind out
of the way she eased the window up. It was slighty warped with age,
and she couldn't open it without standing directly in front of the
glass. Using both her arms she finally managed to lever it open.
Stepping quickly away from the window her eyes nervously never left
the crow sitting on the other side. It never moved until Amy,
carefully walking backwards, had reached Tara's side. She knelt down
and eveloped the blond witch is a hug from behind, both witches eyes
though never stopped watching the bird.

The bird, with a hop, landed on the inside of the sill. It
looked away from the girls on the floor, ignroing their concerned
stares. It spread it's wings and effortlessly flew across the room. It
landed on the redheads shoulder. She didn't move or in any way
aknowledge it's presense. The silence is this dark room was only
broken by her heavy breathing.

Turning slightly on it's new found perch the crow again faced
the two mortals. It eyed them, occasionaly cocking it's head to one
side. As if wondering if they were worth all the bother it seemed to
had to go through.

Shrugging off Amy's embrace Tara slowly climbed to her knees.
Clasping her hands before her, but not taking her eyes off the black
bird she quietly and solemnly spoke.

Badb Catha I greet you.
Judge I name you.

Morrigan I greet you.
Carrion Eater I name you.

Coronis I greet you.
Mother I name you.

Chimata-No-Kami I greet you.
Crossroads Walker I name you.

One Crow counted, One Crow stands
Living Echos walks across the lands.

Crow. I name you.
Crow. I greet you.

If it was surprised, or gratified, or anything whatsoever it
gave no sign. It was too old, too wise, for that. It was bit intrested
to find one who knew some it's names. Though, names, as far as it was
concerned were mere boxes. Boxes created by mortals in an attempt to
comprehend something beyond their ken. It knew where the bones of
empires lay, empires that had been compeltly devoted to it. And it did
not mourn them, or care about them even now. So why would it care
about mere names?
It had a duty to preform. That was all that mattered.

"Badb Catha?" Amy whispered. Understanding, or the bare
minimums of it, skittered across her mind. It could see that as her
face took on a similar pall of fear and sorrow as the blonde now wore.

So. They both had an inkling of an idea. They were not the
normal mortals who found themselves snared in the ensuing drama.
Usually there had to be explinations. For some reason that always
happened. Those who were brought back always seemed to find a mortal
to assist them. It never had understood why though these two seemed to
know more than most. Perhaps that would be a boon.

It remained silent on it's chosen roost as the redhead
simply...was.

The sun had set on the first day. There were as many left as
needed though. Vengence would be served. In a dark room three girls
sat in silence. A crow, perched on the shoulder of a redhead also did
nothing to disturb the quiet.

Finally, drawing in a shakey breath the girl who had come
seeking help, spoke.

"What am I?"


Authors Notes: Let me make this clear. This is an OFFSHOOT of Sappho's
Scrolls by Shyfox, written with her permission. NOT a continuation.
Yes, you probably think this is dark, and it is. But I can fix
anything.