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Gods & Pizza

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Summary: Challenge 764. Tara is the decendent of a harcesis child. As she matures the genetic memories begin to surface.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Tara-CenteredMixerFR15411,441197,10022 Nov 0521 Jun 06No

Gods & Pizza

Title: Gods & Pizza

Author: Mixer

Rating: FR18

Spoilers: Up to End of Season Six Buffy – an alternate universe near the last few episodes of Season Six. Anywhere up to end of Season Seven SG-1

Pairings: Now where’s the fun in telling you that?

Summary: Response to a TTH Challenge, Tara is the descendent of a goa’uld harcesis child. As the genetic memories slowly come to the surface her life becomes more difficult.

Disclaimer: I do not own BTVS or anything to do with Sg-1 characters. If anything appears that you don’t recognise its probably mine. This is a response to Challenge 764 at TTH


**~*~**

“Kneel before your god”

A voice of uncompromising malevolence spoke to the collective shudders of a village, the men and women standing before her wreaked of terror. A stench that she found most satisfying as the brave and cowardly alike collapsed to their knees in repentance, mumbling, begging for her lenience, her forgiveness for their transgressions.

Her dark, blood red lips curled in a malicious smile as she came to rest before a young woman. She trembled as she abased herself before a god, shaking so hard that her filthy black hair now concealed her face. No doubt her eyes turned down as she silently begged to be passed over, to not be chosen. The god had seen the young woman many times before, a beautiful girl that was flourishing into a magnificent woman. Her loss would be felt.

Gently placing a tinted nail beneath the girls chin, she raised her face until glistening brown eyes peered through the matt of hair. She gently caressed the girl’s cheek with the same hand as she brought her to stand. That malicious smile became deeply satisfied as she felt the dampness of tears, as she saw the fear burning through the girl’s eyes, felt her delicate body trembling.

Finally, as they all did, the girl’s eyes hesitantly looked upwards to meet the gods own.

“Beg our forgiveness.”

The girl did exactly that. She had made no transgressions against the god, but reverent worship urged on by an all-consuming fear of her power made the words a sweet melody. A cacophony akin to a choir of angels

Her voice now boomed with the depths of her evil, her eyes glowed with a god’s power as she said, “We do not forgive. We are Hathor”

Bright yellow and red lights mingled from her palm and the girl began to scream as agonies that spaned the aeons tore through her, the girl’s voice pierced glass as the collective men and woman shrank back from the girls pain, from a god wrath. While all silently thanking the gods that they themselves were safe for a little longer.

As the girl’s lifeless corpse fell to the ground, her eyes staring blankly towards her kinfolk, the ribbons of energy fading away, the god took in the villagers with her still glowing eyes. “We do not forgive”

The world flickered as the god pronounced herself Hathor, but it was no longer the Egyptian mother goddess standing before the petrified crowd, it was Tara. And as the scene replayed it was Tara that raised her hand, that felt a blissful satisfaction as the device wrapped about her palm glowed and rippled. And it was no longer a nameless stranger begging for her life. The yellow and reddish lights intensified as they twisted into the woman and stole her life in one agonised moment, her vibrant red hair splaying across her face as she collapsed into the sweet embrace of death.



Tara screamed as she jerked awake wrenching the blankets from her sleeping lover to wrap around herself, a safety net, an attempt to shut out the cold that suffused her, made her tremble so. She was whimpering as she rocked back and forth, desperate to escape the cold numbness that swelled inside of her. She was so horrified that she had not felt horror, but pleasure in the girl’s death.

She was so consumed by the nightmare that she barely felt Willows arms around her, barely heard the whispered murmurs that it was all right, it was just a dream. But on some level Tara knew it wasn’t just a dream. Dreams blurred and faded in time, they could be forgotten, no matter how horrific, but she knew this one wouldn’t fade. Like the others it was going to ingrain itself in her memories with a crystal like clarity if she tried to recall it.

Every scent, every sight, every word spoken or movement made would be locked in her mind forever. Every emotion felt. Tara continued to tremble as a dampness spread down her cheeks while her knuckles turned a deathly white in their grip on the sheets, continuing to jerk them to and fro with her.

“Shh baby, it’s ok, everything will be alright” Willow continued to murmur into her ear, like a kind of back ground noise it slowly began to soothe her as Willow held her tight, gently pushing Tara’s hair out of her face. “Everything will be alright,” she repeated as she kissed away Tara’s tears and held her close. “Everything will be alright”

But she knew it wouldn’t, there was something dark inside of her trying to claw its way free, and she knew the dreams were just the first symptom…


~*~


“It was the same dream, wasn’t it?” Willow asked

Still ashamed by how she had felt in the dream, by what she had done, Tara avoided meeting Willow’s eyes and focused on the churning of her cereal. The thunderous roar of a brewing storm, and the heavy battering of rain outside seemed to echo the turmoil within, and for a brief moment she wondered if somehow her powers had leaked out. The dreams had been taking such an emotional toll on her that her witchy control was significantly weakened.

Tara almost smiled at the thought for being so ridiculous, she wasn’t nearly powerful enough to cause a storm just because she was in a bad mood and her control was somewhat…frazzled. Willow might have been, but she sure wasn’t. But the thought of Willow quickly turned to seeing her dead by Tara’s hand, which soured her thoughts once more.

“Tara?”

“It-it wasn’t the same one,” she finally stammered

“But it was like the other ones?” Tara just nodded “Baby, I know we said that it was just a nightmare…but you had that other dream so many times, and now it’s starting to change? I mean you were worse last night then I’ve seen you before, and now, now you won’t even look at me” she declared

Guiltily Tara did just that, meeting Willows warm browns eyes that were brimming with concern as she carefully tucked a strand of loose hair back behind her ear. “We are on a hell mouth here Tara, maybe we should tell Giles?”

How could she possibly tell Giles what she had dreamt? She was too horrified to ever want to voice those dreams aloud.

Tara was in the process of viciously shaking her head when Dawn waltzed into the room, never before had she been so happy for a distraction. “Tell Giles what?” she inquired curiously

“Oh, ah, J-just about a new s-spell Willow found D-dawnie” she cursed herself for stammering so badly, it only happened when she was nervous or scared, and right then she was a little bit of both. Quickly standing up and almost knocking over her stool she watched Willow’s eyes flick between her and Dawn before unceremoniously ignoring the younger girl.

Tara could almost see Willow’s mind ticking away, “They mean more then you’ve been telling me don’t they?” and there was a touch of pain in her voice. She was hurt that Tara didn’t trust her more.

“Pl-please Willow” half asking for forgiveness, half asking her to stop

“What do they mean Tara? What are they doing to you?” She was pleading with Tara now.

“Th-they’re just ba-bad dreams” she almost yelled before running. Literally running out the door in her silky pyjamas and bare feet. The pouring rain instantly saturated her as she threw herself into it, the cold pavement numbing her feet as lightning streaked the sky above her. The storm picked up its tempo as she ran, her hair now clinging to her face and eyes as she fled, thunderous roars above her, the pounding of the rain welcome stings against her flesh as she continued to run, blindly, instinctively, just running.


~*~


Slumping against a tombstone Tara slid into the wet grass and cried as the rain continued to pound down around her. The cold seeped into her bones as she sat huddled up, slick beads of water trailing across her body, as she reminisced over her father.

“You have evil inside of you” he had once said when he had tried to collect her, tried to take her home. She’d denied it, tried to hide from it with magic, and for a short time she had even deluded herself into believing that she wasn’t evil, that it wasn’t inside of her.

But now? All her denials were coming crashing down. Maybe the magic wasn’t a symptom of something darker…but the dreams were. Her mother had told her so.

“In time our curse will be yours” her mother had once said sorrowfully “You’ll begin to see things in dreams and in waking, see things that should be so terrible, feel things so unimaginable, but you will enjoy them, and they will begin to change you”. Her mother’s bright blue eyes had been filled with such pain and anguish when she spoke, but Tara had only been a little girl at the time. Even with her strict upbringing to heed her elders a child’s mind would always wonder.

“Oh my little girl, how I pray you will be spared. But I know in my heart you will face the same evil I do, hold tight to your world little one, I couldn’t bare to see you fall…”

And she didn’t have to see Tara fall…she died not long after they had had that conversation.

The women of the Maclay family knew exactly three ways to deal with the evil inside of them, die, fight, or give in. The souls of her family were pure and almost always innocent, oblivious to the darkness that suffused the world around them, and inevitably most chose to fight their own evil. Fighting it led to early deaths or insanity as the walls of their mind crumbled. Tara had already tasted insanity, trapped in her own mind, the world no longer making sense as she unwittingly betrayed poor Dawn to a hell god, as she so desperately tried to reach out to her beloved Willow. Insanity was but one road in many, and not one she wished to traverse again.

Nor did she wish to die.

And as for giving in? Unlike most of her family, she did know what went bump in the night; she was more familiar with the darkness in the world and what it could do. She had no desire to give in to evil.

But…maybe there’s another way… she thought, her mom had told her the dreams were just the first sign that the dark inside of them was manifesting. The Maclay men had always claimed they could control that evil, maybe it wasn’t just a family legend to control the women…the thought of returning to her father made her sick to her stomach, and she had no doubt after their last confrontation he would be just as happy to see her as she was to see him.

But now she needed him, leaving Sunnydale, leaving Willow would tear her up inside. She vaguely wondered whether she could survive loosing Willow, without her life simply had less meaning. The light was duller, the grass paler, the water tasteless, it would be like loosing everything important at once. Without Willow she would be empty, consumed by that terrible, aching void that was the absence of love…of someone so special she made the world go round. And without Willow Tara would be nothing again, she would be the old water pooled in a tire, so much less then mediocre…

But could you live with yourself if you hurt her? Some part of Tara questioned. You took away her pain once, could you survive inflicting it?

Leaving would hurt her as well…but maybe, just maybe they could both survive that pain. Tara knew she couldn’t survive if she killed her Willow Tree…her mom had killed someone when the evil emerged, when it overrode her mind and will and crumbled her mentality, driving her to insanity. No. Tara could survive hurting Willow, even breaking her heart. But when Willow died, so would she.

With her resolve set the tears began to slow, though no one watching her would have been able to tell, drenched as she was by the battering rains. Carefully Tara forced her stiff and cold legs to make her stand as the bitter winds stung her eyes and she felt how cold her skin had become. Surveying the graveyard around her, it was almost amusing that she had retreated into a place of death to escape evil, but the dead were lovely conversationalists, and so considerate in not disturbing a grieving young witch.

Determination firm in her eyes Tara slowly set out to break a heart, abandon a life and to finally go home.
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