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The Same Rainbow's End
by Doyle
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Wishverse ficathon backup for hermionesviolin who wanted Tara and Ethan somewhere outside Sunnydale. Set about ten years after The Wish.
The engine sputtered to a slow, clanking death about ten miles from Gerlach. Tara held her breath, hoping it would turn over again, but it coughed once more and fell silent.
"Fuck," Ethan said quietly. He peered out the van's grimy windshield, impatiently brushing away the herbs and charms she'd strung from the mirror and the ceiling. "Less than an hour till sundown."
Tara twisted her yarn bracelets around her wrist. It was a nervous habit, one that drove Ethan insane, and when he didn't yell at her she knew they were in trouble. "I'll walk to town," she offered. "I've been practicing my wards, I know I can keep out of sight."
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "Too risky. Neither of us could make it there and back, not once the moon comes up."
She looked out the passenger window at the desert, stretching away forever in the fading light. The blue ident tattoo on her forearm was enough to keep her safe in the cities, but out here in the wild, where a body would never be found, she didn't think that any vampires who stumbled on her would care about the law. And even if she was lucky, the were-tribes didn't obey the Master's rules. This whole state made her nervous. She'd wanted to stay east, but Ethan had said California and they'd had to come, even though the Hellmouth constantly buzzed at her like TV static.
"We'll have to make a go of it here for tonight, walk for petrol in the morning," Ethan said, already climbing out of the van. There wasn't a lot of time to get ready. Tara scrambled over the seat and through the beaded curtain into the back. No incense, no candles, definitely no blood - a protection spell was no use if it just drew the predators towards you. She took the box of rock salt, leaving the rest.
Outside, Ethan had scuffed a wide circle around the van. She carefully sprinkled salt along the line, muttering the ritual words almost on autopilot. She'd had good results working with Eris and her magic was improving a lot, but secretly, she didn't think she would ever worship chaos the way Ethan did. This kind of magic, channeled to a specific purpose and asked respectfully of the goddess, seemed so much more natural.
"We'll need a fire. It's going to be bloody freezing out here in a couple of hours."
"I think the circle's strong enough," she offered. "Anyone - anything that's even aware of the fire should pass us right by."
He nodded. "Right. I'll take first watch."
**
She was a light sleeper. Those who weren't didn't tend to live a long time - except for people inside the closed communities, she guessed, unless they were kept up at nights by the thought of a letter telling them to report to one of the factories. She was dozing on the thin mattress, blanket pulled tightly around her, when she heard an engine approach and stop.
Two raps, in quick succession, on the metal door. Stay inside.
"'seems to be the problem, officer?" she heard, and her hand stopped over the box of stakes and holy water vials. A random vampire they might have taken out, but not a cop. A police officer would have backup and people looking for him.
She crept to the door, but the voices outside were too low to make out anything except odd snatches. Ethan was telling their cover story, she knew, about the two of them being medics heading to a job in San Francisco. The cop would check his ident and leave, he'd check his ident and leave, he'd'
"Tara, my love," Ethan called, voice oily and insincere, "could you come out here a minute?"
She squeezed her eyes shut, just for a moment, and she shouted back, "I'm coming." No time for make-up, but she wrenched the elastic from her hair and shook her fingers through it, tousling it around her face. The old NYU sweatshirt and too-big jeans were shucked off in seconds, underwear along with them. Shivering and naked, she hesitated over the two robes on the back of the door. Women seemed to like the red silk kimono better, but men - male vampires, she corrected herself - preferred the shimmery pink gauze, the one that she hated because it was like wearing nothing at all.
Crossing her fingers, she pulled on the red and stepped out of the van.
**
Ethan was nervous. She kept looking sideways at him from beneath her eyelashes, and every time she did he was looking at her right back, and he always pretended he wasn't. She'd expected him to be mad at her for screwing up the circle or happy that the cop had liked her enough to give them a can of gas, but instead he was quiet and twitchy and she hated it.
"I heard wolves last night," she said.
"Yes, so did I. Saw a couple, but they didn't come near us."
She'd tried to take over watch at close to four, but he'd sent her back to bed. He wouldn't let her drive this morning, either, though she guessed that made sense. The place they were looking for was supposed to be invisible to those who weren't meant to find it, and it had been Ethan's name on the invitation, not his assistant's.
"Kate said we should get out of Black Rock as soon as we can."
"Who's' Oh," he said, "the policewoman. Well, nice to know you got on such good terms."
That was more acidly Ethan, and she relaxed, despite the itch beneath the bandaid on her neck and the denim chafing against her inner thighs every time she moved. "She said they're stepping up the patrols for a couple of nights because of the full moon."
"They're stepping up patrols because of us," he said grimly. "They know something's going on."
The sun was high, and it glinted in rainbows from the crystal hanging by her window. She gently touched the bottom of the prism, remembering the day she'd found it. She hadn't been with Ethan long, then, and they'd been picking over the wreckage of a burnt-out new age shop for anything salvageable, Ethan keeping up a steady stream of complaints about fluffy pseudo-witches with their stores full of crystals and unicorns. Later, when he saw her hang up the crystal that she'd slipped into her pocket, he'd mocked her mercilessly, but he'd never taken it down.
Ethan took a sharp turn, sending Tara shoulder-first against the door. The van jolted over the rough ground as they left the road.
"Now, where is it'"
From Tara's point of view, they were headed straight at a solid slab of mountain. "Ethan?"
"Shut up, girl," he snapped. "I'm trying to concen' There." And he floored the accelerator.
Tara didn't realize she'd covered her face until the van stopped and she pulled her hands away. Ethan was looking very pleased with himself.
"There, that wasn't too difficult."
Mouth dropping open in surprise, Tara peered out the windshield. The mountain was gone, replaced with a wide plateau filled with vehicles and tents and people - humans - milling around, alone and in groups. Ethan cranked the window down an inch and she could smell something delicious cooking, something that she hadn't smelled for so long that she couldn't remember what it was called, just that she wanted some.
"It's true," she said, awed. Someone, a few someones, were singing in the distance, and she thought she could even hear laughter. "All the things you said."
"As if I'd lie to you when it wasn't absolutely necessary or fun. Shall we explore?"
She had the door open when his hand caught her wrist. She looked back at him, surprised, because he rarely touched her outside of some ritual. His face had gone serious, the kind of serious that never looked good on Ethan.
"Have a good time, lovely. No guarantee we'll be here in another five years, or that there'll be enough of us left for one of these," he made a face, as if the word tasted bitter, "moots. But remember that we're here on business, too."
"I'll remember."
"There's a good girl." He let her go. "You'll be all right wandering around by yourself for a couple of hours. I've got some people to talk to."
**
Maybe, she thought, Kate had taken too much blood and killed her. And the preacher back home - Reverend Lacey, who'd prayed for the devil to leave her and reduced her to a sobbing, trembling heap on the ground in front of the church - had been right about heaven, and wrong about people like Tara not going there.
It was too warm for her shirt. She hesitated, and then took it off, knotting it around her waist. The white vest-top she wore beneath it left her arms bare, and she stretched them out, loving the feel of the hot sun on her pale skin. She'd peel later, but that could be fixed. There had to be somebody here who knew a spell for sunburn. There seemed to be everything else.
The encampment's main street stretched for almost a mile, lined on both sides with tents and makeshift stalls. Some of them looked like lemonade stands constructed by children, others were just folded-out car trunks, and all of them were covered with magical things. She passed by tables of athames and jewelry, lingered longingly at a display of beautiful wraps and saris, and she didn't notice how late it was getting until Ethan came and fetched her.
"Have you seen this?" she asked, holding out the sticky confection in her hand. "It's cotton candy. Real sugar."
Ethan frowned. "What did you trade for it?"
She held up her bare wrist. "Just my bracelets. I can always make more."
He relaxed. "Good. Talk to me before you trade in your earrings, they'll go for a lot more than sweets."
"What are you trading?" she wanted to know, falling into step beside him.
"Experience. The bountiful fruits of my wisdom."
"You're teaching people how to do the sunshine spell." She nodded, licking the last sugary traces from her fingers. "That's good. People should know that."
"People who can pay," he snorted, and something brought him up short.
In front of one of the tents to their right, a man was playing the guitar. Tara hadn't seen one in years and she watched him pick at the battered instrument's strings, fascinated. He was wiry, though she wouldn't be able to tell how tall he was until she saw him standing, and somewhere in his late twenties. Her age, or a few years younger.
"I don't know the song," she said.
"It's called Freebird," Ethan said, very quietly.
The man lifted his head to look up at them, and once Tara would have been shocked at the missing eye, the scars masking one side of his face. She would have blushed and stammered through her pity, instead of saying, "It's pretty."
He inclined his head to her. "Thanks." His aura was wrong, wavering between colors faster than she could make out.
"I'm Tara."
There was a second of hesitation before he said, "Danny."
"Yes, it's lovely to meet you," Ethan said, trying to herd Tara away. "We do have to be going now."
"Going to see the Burn?" He nodded. "Always a good crowd."
"Will you be going?" Tara asked, no clue what a Burn was but still slightly buzzed from her candy.
His one eye flicked up to the setting sun. "Think I'll sit it out. Janna's going, though."
The opening flap of the tent behind him folded back, and a woman stepped out, and as soon as she looked at her Tara forgot about strange men with guitars and friends-mentors-employers trying to get her to come with them. The woman was beautiful, yes, but that wasn't it - there was a sense about her, like something hanging in the air. Tara had felt it with other people, only a very few, and usually in a chance encounter. A scared young woman in a Georgia hospital. A stocky man her age whom Ethan had once bought supplies from.
She had that same prickly, not-there feeling when she looked in a mirror.
And now this woman was staring back at her, startled, and Tara realized she saw it too.
**
Ethan and Janna had met before, which didn't surprise her. Since the Master's witch hunt ten years ago the surviving magic users had formed something of an underground, and even Tara recognized a lot of the faces they passed in the crowd. What did surprise her was that first moment when she could almost see the hostility crackling between the two of them, and how fast it faded.
Janna said, "He died. A long time ago."
"Yes, I know," Ethan said. "Vampire, was it?"
"Some kind of demon." She lifted a shoulder. "I was already gone. Oz' Danny was one of the last to escape."
Tara looked around for him, because he obviously knew whatever it was they were talking about, but he had already melted away.
The sun was almost down and a mass of people were pouring out onto the track, all of them going in the same direction. Tara deliberately lagged behind, letting Ethan get lost in the sway of people as she stayed level with Janna.
"You feel it too," the older woman said. "I never met anyone else who did."
"What is it?"
"Wish I knew."
They came out into a wide clearing and stopped at the edge of the crowd. If she stood on her toes, Tara could just see a giant heap of wood, a huge effigy of a man on top, towering over them. Flames were beginning to lick around the base.
"Won't someone see the fire?" she worried.
"That's why this thing is only held every five years. It takes that long to put together the juice to keep us off radar."
Tara tried to remember where she and Ethan had been five years ago. Denver, or maybe Phoenix - definitely Phoenix, because that was where she'd gotten the fake tattoo that identified her as too useful to eat. "Were you at the last moot?"
Janna smiled. "Oh, I'm an old timer. I was coming to this when it was still just a summer festival."
They watched the flames climb, and when the fire touched the man it whooshed to blazing life. Tara heard the gasps around her and was glad she wasn't the only one. As if a switch had been thrown, people started chanting or cheering or just screaming and she didn't even realize at first that she was one of them until she felt her throat start to grow hoarse; and by that time she was moving with the crowd, dancing with her arms around Janna's neck, laughing like she hadn't in years and years. The thing on the fire was the Master, was Reverend Lacey, was her father, and she wanted to watch the bastard burn.
"Come back to my tent," Janna shouted above the wall of sound. She would have readily agreed anyway, but she added, "It's not what you think. There's something you need to see."
**
Some of the news clippings were old. She handled them carefully by the edges, not smudging the pictures. The other photographs looked like they'd been snipped from a yearbook.
"Which ones?" Janna asked, watching her closely.
She looked up, confused, then knew what she was being asked to do. She shuffled the photos first. The top two were strangers. The third was just as unfamiliar, but it looked almost like two pictures laid over one another. She laid it aside.
"Harmony Kendall," Janna said.
The next picture went on the pile, and the one two after that.
"Holden Webster. Teresa Simon. Sheila Johnson."
A shyly smiling girl with long red hair made her breath catch, but she turned to the next photograph. "I know this man. He did some business with Ethan once."
"Jonathan Levinson," she said. "You have to tell me how you ended up involved with Rayne, by the way. In a minute."
She moved on to the newspaper pictures and the polaroids, easily separating those she was looking for. Allen Finch, she read. Warren Mears. Both of them in Los Angeles, both employees of something called Wolfram and Hart. Cassie Newton, whose picture was fuzzier than the others, enough that she hesitated over whether to include her.
"Are these people dead?"
Janna pushed her hair back. "Oh, they're all alive. I've been checking when I can. Some of them are in closed comms, some are collaborators, some use magic, some don't. Something links them to each other ad to you and me. Guess it's a mystery."
Somehow the picture of the redhead had found its way back into her hand. Tara traced her smile. "I guess it is."
**
"Somebody had an exciting night," Ethan remarked the next morning, looking up from the book that must have cost him a lot of defensive magic lessons. "Remind me to dock your pay."
"If you paid me, I would." She sat down beside him in the shade of the van. "Nothing happened."
"I promise you, I could care less."
"We talked."
"Good for you."
She frowned down at her hands. Her arms were beginning to brown. In a day they'd leave and that color would fade away, just like everything else. "Danny didn't come back till after dawn."
"I'm glad to know someone has an apprentice as feckless as mine."
"She asked me to go with them."
Ethan froze in place, just for an instant before he turned his page and carried on reading. "Best of luck."
She thought about what Janna had said, about Ethan and how untrustworthy he was. She thought about sitting terrified and alone in that diner, all but ready to go home to her father, and Ethan sitting down opposite her as if he'd known her all his life.
"When do we have to leave?" she said.
He glanced at her. "Tomorrow. Early. We'll need to get petrol somewhere before we leave the state." He said the 'we' with caution, even though she'd said it first.
"Back to the real world." The real world. Vampires and demons and hiding. Silk robes in the back of the van.
The crystal in the window scattered rainbows on the ground. She'd had one like it in her bedroom when she was a little girl. If she caught one, her mother had told her, she could make a wish.
I wish, she thought for one childish second, I wish'
She leaned her head back against the sun-warmed metal and closed her eyes, and didn't wish for a thing.
END
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