The Dark Rose

By darkmagickwillow

Copyright © May 2003

Chapter 8 (His Master's Ghost)

Deep beneath Sunnydale in a tenebrous cavern dimly lit by flickering candles, the Master sat on his throne of stone, wearing a thick gold chain around his neck on which hung a large uncut stone pulsing with a cold emerald light. The gem's radiance waxed and waned like the slow beating of an unholy heart, expanding to flood the cavern with emerald brilliance then contracting to mere embers of an evil green fire deep within the stone.

The cavern was freezing, too cold for a place deep beneath the ground, and while the vampire did not feel it, his companion was dressed in heavy wool robes. Amy's brown hair was heavily streaked with grey and she looked tired and old. Even the Master, a vampire of few years, looked aged and his face was beginning to take on the aspect of the demon even while in human form.

"You simply call on the spirit you wish to summon while holding the Heart," Amy instructed the Master. "It's that simple." She was having a difficult time convincing him to cast the spell though it had been his idea in the beginning. The young fool had gained some caution since his failure with the weather spell.

Amy knew he was right to be cautious with this spell. Fell spirits such as the one he wanted to call would be as happy to destroy their summoner as they would be to destroy his enemies.

"But I don't know his true name," the Master argued. "How can I summon something when I don't know who it is? Calling on the Master could bring one of any number of demons that have called themselves that instead of the one I want."

"It doesn't matter," Amy replied. "The Heart will sense your intention and bring the right spirit to you." She thought that was what the book said, but she hadn't the experience with ancient languages to be certain. Anyway, it was best that this one bear the risks of experimentation so that she would know how to use the power of the Heart when she took it from him.

"But how can you be sure?" the Master asked querulously.

"I've read it in the Books of Leng," Amy said, sighing inwardly. She held up the ancient leather-bound tome that she held in her hand and pointed at the open page, saying, "It says so right here."

"You know I can't read that!" the Master snarled at her. He wanted the spell, but he was exasperated with this witch and her arguments. If she didn't produce the results he wanted, he would kill her and find another witch.

Amy knew she had to come up with another argument since her appeal to magical authority had failed. The Master was always confident in his power to destroy his enemies directly so she appealed to his pride. "If you summon something else, then you can send it back or destroy it with the Heart's raw power. There's no risk to you."

The Master paused as her argument struck a chord within him. She was right. With the Heart in hand, he could destroy whatever he summoned, no matter what it was. "Very well," he answered in a steady tone. "I will try the summoning, but if the wrong spirit answers my call, you will pay the price."

"Of course, Master," Amy answered. "Do you want to begin now? It's after sundown above."

The Master tightly grasped the Heart in his fist. As he did so, Amy could see the bones of his hand illuminated by its emerald light like an X-ray image. Cold emerald fire burned in the air like an aura around him as he drew on the power of the Heart. "Come!" he called. "Spirit of the Master, you must obey my call. Death can hold you no longer. Come to me now!"

Emerald fire flared brightly around the vampire as he called the one he knew could destroy the slayer. The old slayer had been lucky. This time, the new slayer would be destroyed by the vampire as natural order demanded. As he finished the call, a deeper cold filled the cavern and the air suddenly smelled old and dead as if it had come from an ancient sealed tomb.

A spectre appeared before him, outlined in unholy emerald light. The translucent figure was that of an ancient vampire, its face permanently drawn into the hunting visage of the demon inside. Its eyes glowed with a hateful green light as it looked at him. Walking towards him, the spectre dripped beads of steaming emerald radiance onto the cavern floor with each step.

The Master was ecstatic. He had succeeded in bringing back the old Master. Now he would send the spectre to destroy the slayer, paving the way for him to rule Sunnydale as he was meant to. His thoughts broke off as he felt freezing hands grasp his throat and begin twisting with a strength far beyond his own.

Amy watched as the spectre attempted to kill the Master. She made no attempt to help him. His fate didn't matter to her. If the unholy spirit destroyed the vampire, she would have the Heart that much sooner. In any case, she wasn't going to risk herself by fighting that terrible ghost.

The Master desperately squeezed the Heart harder, drawing on its seemingly endless reservoirs of dark power. "Stop, get back!" he gasped. "I command you by the power of the Heart."

The spectre unwillingly backed away from the vampire, glaring at him with glowing emerald eyes. "Young one!" it said. "How dare you take my name as your own? I will..."

"You will do nothing," the Master interrupted. "I am the Master now and you are but a shade I summoned to do my bidding." The evil green eyes of the old Master bore into the young vampire, but the spectre did not deny his statement or attempt to attack him again. Assured of his control, the younger vampire said, "Now I command you: go and kill the vampire slayer!"

The spectral vampire disappeared from the cavern with a final glare at his summoner. After it departed, the tomblike atmosphere and sub-freezing temperatures of the chamber produced by its presence subsided.

The Master turned to Amy and smiled cruelly. "I think that will do for the slayer."

Amy nodded, having been impressed by the power of the spectre. "He will kill her," she said. "But even if he doesn't, we will still have the advantage. The fools above will think that they've destroyed the Master and that the threat is over. Then we will have all the time we need to learn how to use the Heart to full effect."

The Master hadn't thought about that. He liked the idea of winning no matter what outcome occurred in the fight above, but he didn't mention his pleasure to the witch. She was simply there to do his bidding. "Now send a minion to watch the school for the slayer, then return to your books," he said. "I want a spell of real power for my ascent to the world above."

Tara was supposed to be helping Mr. Giles research in the school library. He was still quite excited by Spirit's discovery of a heap of demolished motorcycles in the cemetery even though more than a week had passed. Giles was sure it meant that the Master was up to something, if only establishing his dominance over the other demons of Sunnydale.

Tara knew better, but she couldn't say anything without giving away her secret so she was daydreaming as she flipped pages, recalling her evening meetings with Willow. After the one time, they hadn't been interrupted by demons or vampires. She could almost forget the dark power Willow had exhibited in that terrible confrontation.

Her nights were wonderful. First she'd patrol with Spirit, then she would make her excuses and go to find Willow or Willow would find her once she left the company of the vampire slayer. They could always find each other.

She was learning more about her friend, encountering tantalizing hints about her past life in their conversations, but she knew not to press Willow too closely. That led to uncomfortable silences as each of them tried to find a more neutral subject of conversation. There weren't too many of those times though, as she could usually sense what was safe to ask about and what was not. She was still puzzled by one thing Willow had hinted at last night though.

Tara was walking with Willow on the network of paths that wove through the forested areas of the university campus. The only illumination was that of the moon, but she felt safe here with Willow. Beside the path, she saw the faint shadows of herself and Willow walking beside each other. The two figures were connected by a slender thread of shadow cast by their arms reaching towards each other to hold hands.

She turned away and wrinkled her nose as she thought again about the riddle Willow had posed for her. "I don't get it," she said. "I don't see how you can get any part of Willow Rosenberg to rhyme with Tara Lucas. The names don't have anything in common."

"Think about Rosenberg again, where the name came from," Willow suggested, turning to look at her with eyes hidden behind polarized lenses.

Tara's ponytail swished back and forth as she shook her head. "It's a Jewish name, but I still don't see ... why don't you just tell me?"

"I can't tell you," Willow said, managing to look mysterious even with the hood of her cloak thrown back, revealing her face and the brilliant waterfall of red hair that fell to her waist. "Names have power, and you never know who might be listening in the night."

Frustrated, Tara gave Willow an exasperated look, but she knew from past experience that she wasn't going to get anything more from her. "What about friends?" she asked, accepting the necessity of changing the topic more or less gracefully. "Do any of your friends still live here?"

"No, there's just me," Willow said. Her expression was melancholy and her eyes avoided meeting Tara's. "I haven't stayed long enough in any one place to make any friends since I left Sunnydale."

"Hey," Tara interrupted with a squeeze of Willow's hand. "You've got me."

Willow turned to Tara with brilliant smile that lit up her face. "I do, don't I?" she said softly.

Tara realized with Willow's response that despite how strong Willow seemed to be, she was fragile in other ways. Willow rarely talked about friends and family, and when she did, it was never in the present tense. Instead, she talked about the spells she'd learned, places she'd been, and warlocks whom she'd met briefly. While Willow might have all the power she would ever need to fight vampires or demons, she was missing so much else in life.

There had been such joy on Willow's face at her simple promise of friendship. Willow was so alone, even more lonely than Tara had been after her mother's death. She didn't have to be alone any more. Neither of them did. They had each other.

Tara's smile at that thought ended up as a yawn. Her long nights were having an effect on the rest of her life. Willow usually walked Tara home just before dawn. They'd only stayed up to watch the sunrise once, but when she kept awake until sunrise it always felt to her like she was seeing it from the wrong direction. She'd been afraid Willow would laugh or just not grasp what she meant, but Willow had simply told her that she understood and had seemed oddly happy about the whole thing.

Still, she needed to get more sleep. She usually napped at this time of day until it was time to patrol, but Giles had insisted on her help with the research as he wasn't getting anywhere on his own and wanted a fresh pair of eyes to look at the problem.

She sighed, shifting in her seat, knowing that even if her eyes were fresh it wouldn't help because the Master wasn't behind the motorcycle incident. That had been Willow, albeit a frightening and powerful version of her friend that she hadn't seen since that night. Would she have done the same to defend her friend if she had that kind of power?

Tara knew she wouldn't. She could fight and even kill demons if she had too, but it didn't make her feel good and under no circumstances would she resort to calling on dark powers. She would have found a way to defend herself or flee instead of confronting them directly. She wished that she had the courage to ask Willow to never use that kind of dark magic again.

Tara looked up, startled, as Spirit asked her, "Find anything?" She hadn't heard the slayer return from her training session with Giles and wondered how long she had been looking down at the same page with her friend looking on.

Tara shook her head. "No," she admitted. "There doesn't seem to be much in this book about demons and motorcycles. There doesn't seem to be anything about that kind of thing in any of books here."

"You did seem to be stuck on that one page for the last five minutes," Spirit said.

Tara blushed. "I ... I was..." She felt embarrassed that she'd been caught daydreaming by her younger friend, and she certainly didn't want to explain who she'd been thinking about while she'd stared blindly at the book in front of her.

"It's okay," Spirit reassured her. "I do that sometimes too. After a while, all these demons and creatures start looking the same and you just drift off."

Tara was glad that Spirit didn't seem interested in what she had been thinking. She was about to reply when the warm comfortable ambiance of the familiar library changed. The room suddenly felt like a sepulcher as the temperature dropped precipitously.

A horrifying spectre rose up from the solid floor of the library. It was the translucent figure of an ancient vampire lambent with a sickly green radiance. Its face was a hideous demonic visage with glowing green eyes. The spectre began walking towards the table where they sat, shedding immaterial droplets of phosphorescent green light that hissed as they struck the floor.

Tara jumped up from her chair and began backing away from the approaching ghost. Spirit took an involuntary step or two back as well before remembering that she was the slayer. A determined looked came across her face as she grabbed a stake from the table and prepared to deal with this vampire, ghostly or not.

Tara felt guilty for staying back, but she didn't think stakes would help against a ghost. "Mr. Giles," she called out, her voice tremulous with the fear that she couldn't completely suppress. She'd faced vampires before, but she'd never seen anything like this. She racked her brain, trying to think of spells that would stop a ghost, forcing herself to ignore the little voice in the back of her mind that told her to run.

The spectre leered at Spirit, displaying long fangs, as she ran towards it. It was utterly silent as it unhurriedly walked towards her save for the hissing sound of beads of luminous emerald ill falling from its translucent form to the floor.

Giles emerged from his office and broke the unnerving silence. "Dear lord, it's the Master," he said in an unbelieving voice. He stood stock still, stunned at this impossible resurrection.

Spirit plunged her stake through the center of the spectre's chest, but her weapon swung through the insubstantial spirit without touching it. Her arm burned with cold where it had touched the ghost. The spectre sneered at her futile attempt to harm it and struck her with an open-handed blow that smashed her across the room into a bookcase. "This time," it prophesied in a deep, hollow voice. "The slayer will die."

Giles rummaged frantically through the supply cabinets of the library's front desk. He wasn't going to lose another slayer to the Master. Finding what he was looking for, he tossed one vial of holy water to Tara and grabbed a larger jar of the stuff for himself. Standing up, he challenged the dark spirit, attempting to divert it from Spirit and Tara. "We beat you last time," he said. "We'll do it again."

Tara caught the thrown vial of holy water, understanding Giles' thinking immediately. The efficacy of holy water wasn't limited to vampires; it was supposed to affect all undead.

She would have to put it to the test.

She was the only one standing between the spectre and Spirit's fallen form. Tara was terrified, but she couldn't abandon her friend. Her hands shook as she opened the vial and got ready to throw it.

The spectre of the Master turned its head to glare at Giles with its unholy green orbs, answering him coldly, "Your time will come." Then the dark spirit attacked Tara with the preternatural speed of a master vampire, reaching her before she could react. It plunged its translucent hand deep into her chest, reaching for her heart.

Tara gasped as the icy hand of the spectre clutched her heart, still beating in her chest, and began to squeeze. She fell to her knees, shivering with the icy cold of the deadly contact.

Tara felt the beat of her heart falter, losing its struggle with the icy grasp of the spectre. Her limbs fell weak and bloodless. She was going to die. She heard Giles approaching, but she knew he would be too late.

Then she suddenly remembered that she was still holding the open vial of holy water. It took all her remaining strength to lift her trembling hand and throw the vial into the spectre's demonic face. The spectre let out a terrible screeching wail as it clutched clawed hands to its face and backed away from her. Tara knelt on the floor, shivering and her hands still shaking as her heartbeat slowly returned to normal.

Giles dared to take advantage of the spectre's discomfiture. He threw his entire jar of holy water at it. The sacred water flared into a pure white brightness of its own as it struck the evil green luminescence surrounding the spectre. The hissing of the holy water's assault on the emerald evil was overshadowed by the terrible screams of the Master's ghost.

Giles saw that each droplet of holy water had burned a hole in the insubstantial fabric of the evil spectre, but he didn't stop to see if the spectre was dead or simply hurt. He ran to Tara, pulling her to her feet, before going to Spirit who was already getting back up. "Hurry, we must get into the office."

Neither girl questioned his order. All three of them ran into the office, Giles pausing to grab the remaining holy water from under the front desk. As he did so, the spectre caught up with him, striking him hard with its fist. The blow knocked Giles half into the office where he lay still. Tara reached down to pull him inside. Before she could though, the slayer attempted to rush past her. "He hurt Giles! We've..."

Tara blocked Spirit's path with her arm. "No, pull him in now!" she commanded. The two young women pulled their mentor fully into the office as the spectre reached the doorway and was thrown back with a brightly flaring clash of white and emerald fire.

Spirit looked impressed though still ready to pull the spectre limb from limb for hurting her Watcher. "How did you do that?"

"I consecrated the office with a spell," Tara answered as she pushed the door shut. "The undead can't enter. Mr. Giles thought it was a good idea after the noontime vampire attack."

Spirit looked down at the Watcher, concerned. "How is he? Will he be okay?"

Tara felt for his pulse. Giles' heart was beating steadily which was more than she could say for her own which still felt a little wobbly after her encounter with the spectre. "I think he'll be okay," she said. "He was just knocked unconscious."

They started as the spectre smashed its fist against the barrier. There was a hissing sound each time it struck the area of the spell as the dark magic of its essence damaged the protective barrier. The flare of white fire fighting back against the unholy emerald brilliance seemed a little weaker each time the ghost's fist crashed into the consecrated zone. Physical blows couldn't damage the spell, but dark magic could.

It was only a matter of time before the spectre destroyed their only protection and entered the office.

"Can he break the spell that way?" Spirit asked.

"I think so," Tara answered. She had never been in a situation like this and had expected to use the spell to protect them from vampires who had little in the way of magical power to attack the spell. She hadn't thought that a ghost could break the barrier either, but the spectre with its evil green aura was clearly not a normal ghost.

"How long will it take?" Spirit asked.

"Not long," Tara admitted, her eyes full of fear. She glanced around her at the books of magic that lined the walls of Giles' office. If she had time, she was sure could find a spell in one of the tomes that would exorcise the evil spirit. If only Mr. Giles was conscious, he could tell her which book she needed.

Spirit surveyed their resources. There was only one exit to the room and the spectre was blocking it. They had several jars of holy water which might distract the ghost long enough to get out of the library, but what would they do afterwards? It could walk through solid walls and seemed rather intent on hunting her. That was it! The spectre wanted her, not her friends. "I have an idea," she said. "I can lead it away. The spectre wants me, not you or Giles."

Tara looked up, shocked at Spirit's plan. Going out there was suicide. The spectre was stronger than any vampire they'd ever met and couldn't be harmed by physical weapons. "No!" she said urgently. "It'll kill you."

"It might," Spirit said, forcing her voice to remain calm while thinking inside that she was only 16. She was the slayer though, and she would do what she had to do to save her watcher and her friend. "But better me than all of us."

Tara saw her friend was deadly serious about this. Spirit believed in being a vampire slayer with all that it meant, including sacrificing yourself for the good of the world, but Tara wasn't ready to accept such a sacrifice. "Let me think for a minute."

"Okay, but only for a minute," Spirit said. "I don't think we have much time left." The power of the unholy emerald magic was clearly beginning to prevail against the white magic of Tara's spell. The flares of white fire continued to diminish with each blow delivered by the spectre. She looked worriedly down at her watcher, knowing that he couldn't run from the spectre if it broke through Tara's barrier.

Tara didn't know what spell would work against the spectre, but Willow might. The only problem with that idea was that Willow wasn't here. She wondered how far she could reach with her mind. "I have an idea, Spirit," she said. "I have a friend who can help us."

Tara sat cross-legged on the floor and focused her mind inwards, gathering her strength. It was difficult to calm her mind with the spectre's constant assault against their protections, but years of practice enabled her to still her mind after a few minutes. She reached for Willow's mind, searching for a slender thread of the familiar connection that they always had when they were together. She hoped that some part of their connection remained visible to her magical senses even when they were miles apart.

She found it! A gossamer strand running from her heart to an invisible point far in the distance. She held onto the immaterial thread and sent all her feelings of distress, calling for Willow to answer. Willow, I need you. Please answer me.

It seemed to take forever for Willow to reply. When her answer finally came, she was clearly worried. Tara, what's happening? Where are you?

Tara answered, her words flowing more rapidly from her mind than they could from her throat, The Master's spectre attacked us. We're trapped in Giles' office which is protected by a consecration spell, but the spectre will break down the spell any minute. I need an exorcism spell fast.

I'm coming there- Willow began.

There's no time, Tara interrupted.

It won't take any time, Willow answered. I can teleport. I've never been to Giles' office so I'll need you to anchor me.

What do I have to do? Tara asked. She could hear the spectre tearing away at the protective barrier and knew whatever she did, it had to be fast. There was no time for elaborate preparations for this spell.

Focus on our connection while you hold an image of the office as it is now in your mind. Don't leave anything out as teleporting into a wall or floor can be fatal.

Tara wasn't certain if Willow understood how much she was trusting Tara with this spell. She wasn't a deeply experienced witch like Willow and she had never done anything like this before. Or had she? What about the dream she'd had about being the anchor for the red-haired girl? Are you sure? she asked.

Tara could feel the warmth of Willow's trust through the mental link as her friend answered, Yes.

Tara prepared herself, maintaining her focus on their mental link as she brought up an image of Giles' office in her head as clearly as she could. Her training in the visual arts helped her keep every aspect of the office clear in her mind. She had to be sure that Willow wouldn't end up in any solid object so she had to visualize precisely where each and every person and piece of furniture was placed in the room. Finally she had the image perfect in her head and called to Willow, I'm ready.

Willow said, Now and cast the teleportation spell. Tara immediately felt a tremendous pull on the gossamer thread connecting their two minds as it strained to hold the burden of Willow's discorporeal self. As Tara struggled to hold onto the physical fabric of the office, it felt like she was being torn in two. Her heart started beating heavily with the strain, its rhythm becoming irregular. The spectre's unholy touch had wounded her more deeply than she'd suspected. Still, she held onto Willow with every bit of her strength.

Suddenly the pull stopped and Tara slammed open her eyes, suddenly afraid that she'd lost Willow somewhere in the ether. She saw the familiar black-clad figure of Willow in the air about a foot off the ground. Tara realized that she had been a little too careful about solid objects as Willow fell to the floor and landed on her feet with a catlike grace. Spirit jumped back, startled by the sudden appearance of the dark witch.

As Tara's gaze traveled up Willow's body towards her face, she realized that Willow wasn't wearing her sunglasses. Willow had an uncomfortable look on her face as if she wanted to look away. Then Tara's blue eyes met Willow's.

Willow braced herself for the reaction she knew was forthcoming from Tara. Hearing the desperation in Tara's mental voice, she hadn't taken time to cover her dark eyes. Now she was going to pay the price. She wanted to look away, but she forced herself to let Tara see her for what she really was.

Willow's eyes were deep pits of blackness, not the beautiful green eyes of the girl from her dreams.

Tara almost looked away.

Almost.

But she didn't.

This was Willow, her friend and perhaps more than that, the woman she'd dreamed about, the person who saved her that night in the cemetery and who had come here tonight to save her again. She couldn't reject her, not for how she looked, not for what she knew those dark eyes meant, not for anything.

"Thanks for coming," Tara said, gazing steadily into Willow's dark eyes.

Willow almost couldn't believe that Tara was accepting her, dark eyes and all. A sense of amazed relief filled her body. It was going to be all right. Then she remembered how Tara had sounded when she called her here. "Where's the spectre?" she asked.

Spirit pointed to the office window. "Just outside."

Willow looked outside and saw the spectre of the Master limned with malevolent emerald radiance. The spectre was still battering at the failing barrier spell. "It really is the Master's ghost," Willow said wonderingly.

Tara started to ask Willow how she could know that, but realizing they had little time she asked the more important question, "What can we do about him?"

Willow's dark eyes flashed as she thought of the spells she knew that could destroy a spirit. There were magicks that could destroy the soul and she suspected that they would work just as well on the undead as the living, but it would be safer if she simply summoned something that would devour this spectre utterly. Nothing would be left to trouble the world again.

Tara could tell that Willow was thinking of a dark magic solution. She rephrased her question, asking "What can we do about him together?" in an attempt to divert her friend to thoughts of safer spells.

Spirit could see that there was a conflict between the two witches even if she didn't understand what it was about. She didn't know why it was important to do magic together or individually and she didn't care right now. The most important thing was to do something fast, before the spectre broke into the office. She was going to give them a few minutes to resolve whatever it was but that was all.

Willow looked into Tara's blue eyes, understanding why she'd asked the question a second time. They could banish the dark spirit, sending it back to the hell from whence it came, by breaking the spell that held it to this plane. She didn't have to destroy it completely. "Spirit, guard the door," she said. "Tara and I will cast a spell to banish the spectre."

Upon hearing Willow's words, Tara felt a great sense of relief. She just hoped that she had the strength to do the spell as the irregular heartbeat was still troubling her, but she couldn't tell Willow of her doubts. They had to do this the right way.

Spirit took the remaining vials of holy water and opened the door. The door wouldn't stop the spectre, but it would block her throw. She might not be able to destroy the spectre, but she could hurt him badly enough to buy them some time if they needed it. All that remained of the barrier's protections were a dull sparking response to each of the spectre's assaults. She thought they were going to need all the time she could get for them.

Willow took a piece of blue chalk from the small blackboard in the Watcher's office, thankful for Giles's preference for archaic technology. She carefully drew a blue circle around Tara and herself, scribing four runes just outside the circle, one for each of the cardinal directions. Then she took Tara's hands in her own and guided her slowly down to the floor where they sat crosslegged facing each other.

As Tara's hand touched Willow's bare hand for the first time, she felt the electricity of their contact stronger than ever before. She swallowed, feeling the attraction she'd always felt towards Willow. The magic flowed through them, warm as fire and sweet as honey.

Willow looked into Tara's eyes as she instructed, "Repeat the words after I say them."

"Dark spirit, born of hell," she began.

"Dark spirit, born of hell," Tara repeated after her. They were dark words for a spell of the light. Willow looked serious as could have been expected in such a dangerous situation, but there was a hint of a smile about her mouth. Tara couldn't help returning the smile as she chanted the first phrase of the spell.

"Return now to your home."

"Return now to your home," Tara echoed. She felt her heart beating faster as the magic flowed more strongly into her from their clasped hands. Everything was sweetness and warmth inside her.

They heard a cry of anger from outside as the Master's spectre smashed at the barrier with all his strength and finally shattered the spell of protection with a final bright flaring of white sparks. As the barrier broke, Spirit splattered the insubstantial form with all their remaining holy water. The spectre howled in terrible pain as the fluid burned at its emerald aura like vitriol.

"Feel our light," Willow chanted, the speed of her cadence increasing with the urgency of their situation.

"Feel our light." Tara's heart began to flutter, beating fast but without its normal rhythm. The magic burned in her blood with a searing heat. It had been so wonderful before, but her faltering heart was breaking the concentration she needed to control the magic. She gasped for breath, determined to finish the spell no matter what it took.

The spectre recovered from its pain and turned again to the four of them, dire intentions obvious in its malevolent green eyes. However, its translucent form was flickering like a flame blowing in the wind as their spell tore at the magic holding it to this reality. The dark spirit struggled to enter the office, but each step seemed to require tremendous effort from the ghost.

Willow saw that something was wrong with Tara. The magic wasn't flowing smoothly any longer--she could feel a turbulence that wasn't right. Joining together had always made spells flow easily for them, but this time it felt like she was swimming against a powerful current. Willow pushed towards the completion of the spell, fighting to get each word out, knowing that they had to finish before the spectre reached them. "And begone forevermore."

"And begone forevermore," Tara weakly echoed then collapsed inside the circle.

They finished the spell as the spectre reached the office. The insubstantial fabric of its being began disintegrating into thousands of tiny droplets of luminous emerald ill as it stepped over the threshold. Still struggling to reach the vampire slayer with one spectral claw, the Master's ghost gave a final despairing cry as its dissolution was complete. The remaining motes of emerald corruption were swept away as if by a powerful wind.

The doorway was suddenly empty--nothing remained of the spectre.

Willow bent over the still form of Tara, desperately trying to awaken her.

Continued...