Though Separate Paths Part 1

TITLE:  Deep Dark: Though Separate Paths... (1/?)
AUTHOR:  Claudia MelGregory
DISCLAIMER:  All characters owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I own nothing.
SUMMARY: After Willow's Slayer Activation spell, an adversary's successful bid for vengeance has devastating and far reaching consequences for Willow, the Scoobies and for the world.
SPOILERS:  Everything is fair game.
DISTRIBUTION:  E-mail me please.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:  Angst. Hurt/Comfort/Horror
WARNING: Dark fiction-- Violence. Same Sex relationship. Het Relationships. And a lot of other things people might find Squicky ... I've always colored outside the lines.
THANK YOU: To my wonderful Beta Readers. lily_rose21 and antianira22
RATING:  NC 17 for violence and sexual content. Not suitable for readers under 18. You have been warned.


Though Separate Paths... (1/?)


DECEMBER 2003

Spray from the waterfall painted her with fine mist.

Her sparse clothing was literally see-through from the dampness and had plastered to her skin. The minuscule beads of water from waterfall spray made her skin glisten under the relentless rays of sun. Mulari felt as though she'd stepped out from the cover of Jungle Weekly.

A regular jungle bunny, she rolled her eyes at the thought. That's me all right. Glancing down at her attire, she snorted at the picture she made.

I've gone native.

The clothes she wore were nothing more than rag strips from a t-shirt wrapped around her breast and tied in a knot at her back. Strips from the same shirt protected the more vulnerable parts of her body from mud and sand which tended to sneak into every crevice and from bugs that didn't particularly care where they bit.

Her evening attire afforded much more cover. It was too hot during the day to wear much more than rag strips.

Her arms and legs which had not been slouch in definition had grown more firm and toned. She'd gotten rid of the braids once they'd begun to show signs of dreading and now wore her black hair loose, a strip from a t-shirt about as wide as a ribbon tied the strands together at the end to prevent tangling in low branches and bushes.

No offense, Mr. Marley, but dreads just ain't my 'thang'.

Her skin, which had been a light almond, almost amaretto, had gotten darker, a light pecan.

Mulari had learned quickly, during her first month after the drop off, that people of color could indeed sunburn. And that it hurt like hell. It had been tricky, but she'd found a combination of plants whose oils made a nice sun-block. Keeping mostly to shaded areas helped a lot as well.

A couple months back in the States, my skin will probably lighten up again. She frowned. If I ever get back to the states.

She couldn't afford to step foot into one of the major cities beyond the jungle region, since she had no passport or papers. She was no knowledge buff in world affairs, but she was aware that Africa had its own little wars and skirmishes being fought. And strangers with spotty pasts and no identification would raise alarm. Villages were constantly being razed and burned to the ground. People were forcefully taken into custody.

Mulari played a constant game of dodge and weave with mercenaries and soldiers. Avoiding villages and people in generally, whenever possible, was her main hope for survival until the extraction team finally got off their lazy asses and came to retrieve her.

She paused in her work, dipping the bloodied blade into the water bowl she'd fashioned from a piece of drift wood.

The river's roar drowned out all other sound, feeding the false sense of last woman on earth.
But she wasn't alone. There were all kinds of hunters out there bigger and stronger than her and she'd had to learn different ways of outsmarting them.

She lifted the blade from the water, paused.

I want to go home.

She shook off the sudden sting of melancholy. The longing for familiarity, the feeling of having been abandoned—forgotten.

Had to be close to Christmas time in the States, Mulari figured. Not that it would have mattered had she been home. Holidays had tended to bleed together in her line of work. Christmas lights, Halloween scarecrows, holiday shoppers and trick or treaters had been nothing more than props and settings for each script.

Scripts...

She grimaced at the word; her eyes trained on one of the rabbits she'd snared and now diligently skinned.

...That had been Howie's method, Uncle Howie at the time, for training her and tricking her brain from thinking too hard about what she was being trained to do.

"Here's the script kid," he would say before each assignment. And then he'd hand her eight by tens of the starring and supporting cast of characters. They'd go over the plan as though discussing a play production.

Ironic, she mused, that Howie's method of treating each gig like a play or movie was the method she'd used to survive his training and his idea of punishment and reward. The only difference between the two: punishments had hurt and had made her feel violated and like a failure; rewards hadn't hurt at all, but had left her feeling dirty inside and ashamed.

She blinked and then shuddered having no desire to revisit that period of her life. Besides he'd stopped touching her like that after her seventeenth birthday.

"Probably fucked me up for life," she spoke out loud, needing to hear a human voice even if it was her own. "Just haven't had time to stop and realize it yet."

She wouldn't allow herself to think about Howie's special treatments. It wasn't hard to push those memories aside, not when there were others vying for attention: faces quartered by cross hairs. She smiled bitterly.

Her hands moved swiftly, skinning, and gutting: moving to the next rabbit. With only three hours of sunlight left, she wanted time to enjoy her meal, without having to eat with one eye peeled for nocturnal predators hoping to score a free dinner.

There were other things that kept her brain occupied, the never ending mystery of what had happened to her the night she'd killed the Zanzu priest. Each morning she'd awaken thinking it had been a dream and tested herself, running, leaping, moving fallen logs, proving over and over that it hadn't been a dream. Something had changed her.

More and more she thought it had to do with the goddess. That's what she'd come to think of the red-haired woman who'd come to her in the dream vision and whose power, Mulari felt in her gut, had stopped the spears of the Zanzu warriors from killing her.

Mulari hadn't forgotten her. Couldn't forget her.

Couldn't help thinking about her now, missing her presence after having only been blessed with it for what could only have been a few short minutes.

Her dreams were filled with the woman in all of her glory and Mulari had seen her as many things in those dreams ... the gentle goddess with pale hair and eyes, the wrathful goddess of black hair and whose eyes even the whites bled black.

And there was the other bright hair, glistening fangs and eyes of glowing yellow, that made Mulari shudder and yet intrigued her as well. A predator is what Mulari saw behind those eyes, hungry and vicious.

And finally kindly and benevolent, a young woman with soft eyes, green as the rolling hills Mulari had once seen in Scotland, hair fiery red, laughing, smiling, a little shy. Sensual was the word that came to mind when the goddess appeared to her in this form.

It's what Mulari had thought when she'd first seen her, looking battle weary and tired before she'd left the circle of friends who'd been standing at the edge of the crater. And she was certain there'd been some kind of battle. Had that even been in this world or some other? The goddess's friends had looked human but maybe they'd all been gods.

She shook her head.

Could any god be all those things?

Funny, she'd stopped believing in God the night her mother had died. And now one had found her and changed her. And Mulari didn't know why.

She rose, dumping the stained water from the bowl onto the ground and then dipped the skinned rabbits into the river for cleaning, so she could strip meat from the bone.

"You saved me. And I don't know why."

She raised her face to the sun. Her eyes teared.

What do you want from me? Her lower lip trembled. Please. Is this a test?

No answer came, just as none had come to her all the days passed that she'd asked.

She took a look around her.

She was surrounded by beauty and splendor, the tallest trees she'd yet to see anywhere; flowers of every color, vibrant and alive. The sweetest scents wafted from them to tantalize and seduce one into a sense of peace. To anyone else it might have been a tempting paradise, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was meant to be somewhere else, that she was needed somewhere and Mulari felt a burning need to be in that place. Back in the States, she was certain of it.


She stood, bowl, knife and rabbits in hand.

There were moments when that pull was so strong that it hurt physically not being able to answer it. It was almost tangible like a thread of strong silk tugging at the center of her being. Sometimes her heart raced like it would rush to greet that pull and leave her body behind. Her blood would burn as though lit by fire and every part of her would feel like a live wire sparking off metal.

Her shoulders drooped and she sighed, lowering her head.

Where the hell are you, Howie?

*********

Dinner consisted of wild berries, gathered fruit and the rabbit's she'd hunted.

Hunger sated, Mulari performed her ritual clean up of the sight, using the remainder of sunlight to rid her camp of food evidence. Leaving meat around, cooked or raw at night drew predators small and large.

After the clean up, she grabbed some fresh clothes, her weapons, and then trekked about two miles from her camp to the hot springs she'd stumbled across weeks ago, during one of her explorations.

Mulari shed her rags and then stepped into the steaming pool, hissing with pleasure as she acclimated to the temperature change.

She waded out to a large stone, settled seated in the water, and leaned against the rock as she bathed herself.

Her body hummed with restless energy.

Her skin tingled from sensitivity.

Hunting seemed to take some of the edge off but other times it only seemed to sharpen that restlessness within her, left her ravenous for food and her body craving some form of release.

The heat from the springs soothed some of that pent up energy as she paid attention to her body's needs. Eyes closed, leaning heavily against the rock, she allowed her hands to wander and explore. Her right hand kneaded and massaged her breasts and nipples. The fingers of her left hand disappeared under the water to tease the swollen protrusion at the apex of her sex before lowering, sliding through the evidence of arousal and then dipping in to stroke herself towards release.

She shuddered, panting mouth open but no sound escaped as she climaxed.

She rinsed her hands in the pool and remained there, eyes closed again after a careful look around. She emptied her mind for meditation. Sleep crept up on her unaware, at least that's what she would tell herself later— that she'd fallen asleep, in spite of the sudden opening of her eyes at the feel of gentle pressure on her thighs. She glanced down the length of her body and her breath hitched.

Blue eyes gazed up at her solemnly, but there was a twinkle of mischief in the gaze and the crooked smile as the blond continued to spread Mulari's thighs apart.

Mulari could only stare: mouth parted, heart hammering.

Who are ...

"You are you know..." the blonde whispered and then grinned as though she shared some secret joke with herself.

"What?" Mulari found herself panting the question, mystified by the presence as well as the situation and stifling heat of renewed arousal.

"Hers." The blonde lowered her head.

Mulari cried out in shock at the touch of the searing mouth fastening upon her flesh. Her mouth snapped shut. Her eyes almost followed suit until the blonde hair was suddenly fiery red. Her mouth parted again in astonishment at the sensation of pleasure thrilling through her like lava flowing down the side of a volcano.

"Oh god!" she groaned. Her hips arched of their own volition as an insistent tongue parted her and then dove in with a salacious lick that dragged a deep moan from Mulari's lips. The hands holding her thighs apart were pale, slender and deceptively strong. The tongue dragging across and then dipping into her wet sex, over and over, was relentless. Her hands dug into the ground beneath the water.

She was terrified that if she touched the apparition the woman would vanish.

Release crashed through her, over her, razing her nerve endings, forcing a loud cry from her lips. The tongue deserted her and then something sharp pierced the juncture of her left thigh. Mulari screamed from the pain. She struggled but her legs were held firm as she felt blood being drawn from her.

The goddess lifted her head. Mulari stared at the glowing yellow eyes, the ridged forehead, glistening fangs and the mouth stained with Mulari's blood.

She was paralyzed, gripped by fear and intrigue. The glowing eyes had narrowed, to thin slits of anger.

"You should be more careful," the goddess admonished, the terrible visage slipping away to reveal a more human face, which had begun to fade as the last of the sun crept beneath the horizon.

Mulari leapt from the hot springs whirling about, staring wildly around her surroundings.

Pressing a hand to the juncture of her thigh, she could still feel the bite. Glancing down, she saw there wasn't a mark upon her or any sign of the blood that should have been trickling down her leg. Thoughts racing and tripping over themselves as she tried without success to make some sense of what she was certain had to be a dream, Mulari dressed in a rush, needing to put distance between herself and the hot springs

She grabbed her gun tucked it into her boot.

She snatched the spear from the ground and then froze.

A chill swept down the nape of her neck, traveled down her spine.

Mulari ducked behind a wild growth of bush with white flowers shaped like stars, and smelling strongly of Jasmine.

Clutching her hand-crafted spear in her calloused left hand and across her lap out of sight, she waited; a knot of dread in her gut. She tried to shake off that terrifying and erotic dream. Something had her danger alarm flaring at full wattage. Instincts warned that it was something nastier than the average jungle wild that often mistook her for carry-out.

She'd been hunted as often as she hunted.

This place, though she hated it, taught her valuable lessons. Humans may be a part of the food chain, but not necessarily at the top, which fell in line with, 'there's always something bigger and badder than you'. She had the mauling scars on her back to prove it.

She frowned disgusted with herself. She'd been careless, letting her guard down as she had.

"You should be more careful."

She squeezed her eyes shut against the erotic image of the blonde woman and then the redhead goddess between her thighs. Her breath hitched again from phantom sensations of their dream touches.

A dream, she growled at herself mentally. It was just a dream. She forced those sensations aside and the feelings of disquiet that accompanied them.

Night had come quickly once the sun set. The dense overhang of branches and leaves challenged the moon's persistence attempt to share light.

Gut instinct told her again it was no mere animal, but something far more intelligent. Eyes squinting into the darkness, she kept keen watch on all sides.

It'd be a bitch, she reasoned to have whatever was stalking her get the drop due to further carelessness on her part.

She remained behind the flowering blush for a long time, not doubting the strong scent of jasmine covered her scent. But she was growing tired of hiding and crouching, and more than a little irritated at playing the role of frightened rabbit.

The rustle of bushes was a relief.

She tracked the sound.

Whatever it was, it was headed in the direction of her camp. She experienced a brief surge of panic. Her belongings were sparse but they were all she had and her survival depended upon the things she'd brought with her and the things she'd managed to forage from the jungle.

She wasn't about to lose her possessions to some looting asshole. Probably one of the assholes from a nearby tribe she'd done her best to avoid.

It could be a mercenary or soldier.

It was time to end this game of hide and seek once and for all. Her eyes narrowed, she remained crouched low and down wind, her steps barely a whisper. She kept her ears attuned to whatever it was she was tracking.

It was too light-footed to be a bear, or one of the unfriendly apes she'd had the unpleasant misfortune of stumbling across.

It was definitely a human, then. Here or anywhere they could be the deadliest of predators when preying upon humans. She was proof of that. Mulari cringed from thinking about her number of successful kills and turned her attention back to the problem.

She quickly discarded the mercenary or soldier idea. They seldom traveled alone and it would be insane of them to do so this late.

She returned to her first guess.

It was probably a tribesman from one of the nearby settlements looking to score free supplies and maybe a side helping sex. She'd run across those as well, and they rarely took any form of no for an answer unless it was accompanied by extreme force. Most of those tribesmen had learned their lesson after having the strange devil woman break a few bones.

But there were some ...

Mulari grinned baring her teeth.

Well, we'll see how well this one learns.

She tracked him quickly, still crouching low, something she had actually learned from a monkey or two. The branch swinging thing, however, had been a thorough bust. Her butt still ached just thinking about that failed lesson.

She got close enough to pick up a shape in the dark, confirming that it was indeed a man.

He had approached her camp site straight on, not moving too quickly.

She reasoned, he probably figured strength and intimidation would be enough to subdue her.

She dove behind a large tree and then circled it while keeping its trunk to her back. Rounding it enough, she could make out her stalker and clenched her jaw as he stood at the mouth of her patched tent, hidden in a small clearing which allowed ample shade during the day from low hanging tree branches.

She'd put out the campfire before heading to her bath. The charred remains of wood were still there, surrounded by a circle of stones.

He wasn't wearing much more than a loin cloth.

Thought so. She sneered. Some dumb ass monkey hunter whose name probably sounds like three clicks and a whistle.

He wasn't armed. She wished she could see his face better, but her eyes were still adjusting.

Mulari was cautious as she stepped from her tree.

Some of the monkey hunters hid those little blow darts on them. She had witnessed just one of those tiny darts drop some of the biggest apes. The weapons intrigued her—not enough to entice her into playing with the vibrant colored frogs the monkey hunters borrowed their dart venom from.

She crept up behind him as he continued to stare at the tent. His posture had grown tensed as he peeked into it. She figured he'd probably just realized no one was home.

I'm right behind you, you sick son of a bitch.

Eying her surrounding to make sure for a last time he was alone before she attacked, Mulari froze at the low timbre of a growl that came from his direction.

Her heart sped.

Okay. Never heard a monkey hunter make that sound before.

He spun around so fast, Mulari nearly dropped her spear. Her heart skidded to a halt against her breast bone with force.

What the fuck!? Her mind bellowed. Her eyes had finally adjusted to the dark.

Eyes glowing which glowed like yellow bug lights held her captive.

She was close enough that she could just make out that something was wrong with his face. Hard to tell but his forehead seemed to jut out like some old rendering of a caveman and it looked like it had ridges.

Her mouth gaped as she realized where she'd seen that visage before.

He charged at her.

Fear triggered an uncommon response.

Mulari screamed.

She jerked back a step and found herself falling as her right heel caught the root of a tree. She landed on her back, winded. Her eyes widened as the monster left the ground, defying gravity with the distance of his leap.

She was paralyzed as he began to descend, falling towards her.

His mouth was held agape, sharp fangs were bared and she knew they were meant for ripping out throats.

She screamed again.

"No!"

Forgetting about the spear, she held, Mulari thrust her arms up in defense. The weapon rose with the gesture, the sharp wooden tip, pointed up.

He came down upon it with a monstrous wailing that made her ears ring. It pierced him through the breast bone and the weight of his flesh never touched her.

Foul tasting and smelling dust showered her face and the inside of her mouth and nose. She scrambled to her feet, shaking the dust away in a panic, coughing until she gagged and vomited.

"What?'' she breathed the word out once her stomach had spilled all it wanted.

Spinning around to survey the area, her eyes wide until her boot crunched through a mound of dust that had settled. She stared at the ground not really able to see the dust pile, though her eyes were filled with horror.

What the hell was that? Her right hand went to her throat which she'd been certain had been the monster's target.

"What the hell was that?"