Answering Darkness
Home : Stories by Author : Stories by Sassette : Answering Darkness - Page 1Summary: AU story about the source of Willow's black magick powers and how she, Tara, and the rest of the gang help save the world from the Trickster.
AUTHOR: Sassette
EMAIL: pink_overalls@yahoo.com
RATING: Ranges from G to NC-17 - depending
on the chapter.
PAIRING: Willow/Tara
SETTING: This contains Season 6 Spoilers, up to and including Once More With
Feeling.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. I'm just borrowing them because Season
6 angst is running high, and I want my happy ending now, dammit! So I'm writing
it - but it'll be a while until I get to that part, so bear with me (or "bare"
with me if you're naughty).
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Didn't know I didn't know. Curtains closed and now just keep walking. Walking walking - I'm walking and taking steps. Just steps. No dancing. Please, God no more dancing.
No singing, no secrets, no band no demons. Turn the lights off and let the music die. Can't bring it back - won't bring it back. Let it stay in Hell. Oh, God, I didn't know! No more no more no more!
Where do we go from here?
Just walking - one two three the lights were too bright, the sound too loud and need - God, what do I need?- Silence, dark. Oh, God eyes open! Eyes open!
Don't want to see it again - I can see it again - every blink every flutter - the harsh glare at the foot of the stage. Feel the heat of the lights.
Hear it round and round the mulberry bush, the demon chased the witches. And round and round you spin me baby, but I can't fight with you. Not round and round the mulberry bush. I need you too much and you need me to sing. Can't laugh and can't sing - not without me - singing about me and that demon song chases - hounds and God why won't the music stop? Keep walking - just walk.
It's still here and it won't go away so I try to go away and I want it to go away and why can't I make it go away with its spinning and chasing until I just want to scream and hide - but if I scream those lights and songs would find me and why couldn't it have been The Gentlemen again with their quiet?
Chasing me and scary, then you in silence with no songs no lights no dancing, no secrets. No words.... More than words - your hand in mine and why can't I make this music stop like I did before - when it called to me singing singing deep down singing in the rain but there's no rain and all I can do is just pour some tea for two.
I need to escape before the music makes me sing - sing my secrets, but no, I stopped it... can't sing about that - and God, you were watching Bambi when I came home and why is that so funny? We cried and cried and I'm laughing and laughing and I can't stop like the music won't stop because the music is calling to me - deep me, secret me Babbly Willow with the wicca and the girl she's so pretty.
What would I do without her she can't know I need her she can't know, and God I didn't know. I didn't mean to hurt - didn't want to kill - I didn't know I didn't know and it's not fair I didn't know - I should've known couldn't have known and wouldn't I have known if I could?
Left right left, walk, step - step - step... into silence, into darkness... the lights and music chase chase chase... Damn Cordelia with her Sears and that hair and I don't want to be a boy magnet, I just want the music to stop but she wouldn't stop - always laughing at me what a spaz! But I'm not her anymore... I'm not, I'm not - I do the Good with the spells and I didn't know she was in Heaven... didn't know, didn't know there were no tears in Heaven - did she know my name? Did she?
Did she forget us and not care that we hurt and bled and couldn't stop the bad guys - couldn't stop them - too strong and loud and bright, and God, why won't the music stop?
Mom? You there? I hope you're listening, because I really need someone to talk to. Sweet Goddess, I'm going to leave my Willow.
Can't cry - not in front of Dawn. She won't understand - can't understand why I'd leave her. Willow and Dawn, Dawn and Willow. They need me, I know it, and this is gonna' hurt. Please, Mom - don't let it hurt. I don't want to hurt again, not when the pain has just become manageable.
I miss you and they miss me and I miss them already. Everybody misses everybody, but Goddess, this will hurt - I know it will. Not in front of Dawn, not in front of Dawn. I can cry later, always later.
I'm numb. Calm. I should've dressed warmer Dawn is cold. Did I hear something? A voice? A - oh, Dawn thanked me, but there's no need - I want Dawn to be warm and happy and safe. Does she understand?
Willow won't, like I didn't. I didn't want her to leave me, but she did, and now I'm doing the same to Willow - only I have a choice, but she didn't leave me a choice, did she? Nobody left me a choice and this isn't what I would choose! I can't let this go - can't trust those arms to hold me safe can't trust my mind to know what she did what else she did - did she cheat on me, hit me, swear at me, cast spell after spell after spell until I don't know what's real anymore.
Why, Mom? Why did you leave me when I need you so much - where's your encore we were all left in the audience and the curtain dropped but we stayed and stayed and clapped and clapped and you never came back? Why can't you be here to guide me now, when I need it so badly, and why did you leave me with those people? You did nothing - just stood by and watched while he tried to -
No. I won't think about that. Not in front of Dawn. Can't cry in front of Dawn. Can't think of the demons we were the demons they made us how alike mother and daughter.
But Mom, I'm scared. She's my everything and I'm nothing and Tara will just disappear like she never was except for the pain I'll leave behind. They'll be Tara, but I won't. They'll be me and hate me and miss me. I'm so cold.
Is it cold where you are, Mommy? Are you warm and happy and safe? I want that for you, and for me and for all the Scoobies and Willow and Dawn and Willow - Oh, Goddess, Willow. Why? I don't understand can't understand why.
"Sing to me?"
I'll sing for you Dawnie, like my Mommy sang for me when she was sick and I didn't understand why she had to leave - the same song, and maybe one day you'll forgive me for leaving you and leaving Willow, and maybe one day Willow will forgive me too when she finds someone else but I don't want her to find someone else.
My voice is cracking, and Dawn notices she's so smart and notices everything like she noticed the fighting but she doesn't know about the spell. She doesn't know what Willow did to me, and so she won't understand why I have to leave her. Goddess, Willow. No, oh Goddess, no.
Can't think about Willow. Can't cry in front of Dawn. Can't think about Willow. Can't cry in front of Dawn.
"...but Ah, she left the thorn with me."
Like mother, like daughter, huh Mommy? I took the stage when you left but the play was different it was supposed to be different you left and the curtain went down, but I sing the reprise and they're the same words I perform the encore. Going once, going twice. Gone.
Xander Harris hurried up the walk, stopping short when he saw the boxes. Boxes were bad. When Xander combined those boxes with a completely incoherent near-hysterical phone call from Willow in which the phrase 'mulberry bush' had appeared a disturbing number of times, they were very, very bad: the worst kind of bad. Not 'apocalypse' bad, but still a world-ending kind of bad for Willow and he could do nothing.
A kind of panic settled over him. He'd felt panic before, and this wasn't quite it, but it was unsettling nonetheless, and he had to collect himself before venturing to the steps, not really sure what he was about to walk into here.
"...this harder than it already is," he heard Tara's voice plead as he came to the open door. With a grimace, he turned around slowly and prepared to beat a hasty retreat.
"I don't understand! What we have is so good, and you're just going to throw that away?" Willow begged, and Xander stopped again. It was Willow's voice, but it wasn't. Broken and desperate, it didn't sound like the young woman he knew.
"I am not the one who threw this away," Tara shot back, her voice completely lacking its customary warmth. Cold and unyielding, her words dropped heavily into the air, and he could imagine Willow's stunned look.
"You don't understand," Willow began, her voice low and intense. "I was just -"
"Just what?" Tara interrupted. "Just trying to manipulate me? Just trying to keep me against my will? Just trying to pick and choose how I'm allowed to react to things?"
"No!" Willow's protest echoed across the house with its force. "I was making it better! I was making it right! I messed up, and I know that, and you're mad at me for trying to fix my mistakes?"
"By making the same mistakes again and again? Of course I'm mad! Are you listening to yourself?" Tara demanded, her voice full of incredulity. "You're wrong, Willow. And I'm leaving."
A sudden and heavy silence fell at Tara's pronouncement, Xander frozen in place. Leaving? Where would she go? How was Willow going to handle this?
"I am not wrong," Willow said, her voice rising. "You can't leave me."
The hair on the back of Xander's neck rose as a sense of foreboding sank into him. Grimly, he took a step to the doorway, only to be thrown back by a wave of energy that tossed him off the porch accompanied by a resounding crack.
Dazed, Xander lay in the grass, trying to clear his vision. Noises from the house tried to gain his attention, but it was like his head was wrapped in cotton and nothing could quite get through. Awkwardly, he staggered to his feet.
"Who - whu?" he managed, clambering up the steps and pausing in the doorway.
"Tara?" Willow said frantically, checking over the prone woman, her hands shaking and her face devoid of color. "Tara, baby... wake up, honey," she kept on, her voice growing closer to hysterical the longer Tara laid there.
"Will -" Xander said, moving into the room.
"Xander - she - I.... We were, and then she -"
"I know Will - I heard," he said, watching as Tara's eyes fluttered open.
Slowly, Tara sat up, a look of total shock on her face. Xander suspected it looked quite a lot like his face right now.
"Oh, God, Baby... I'm so sorry," Willow managed to say, her expression equal parts fear and relief. She reached out to Tara, only to have her hands shrugged off.
"Don't touch me," Tara whispered, pulling away from the love of her life, her heart breaking as she saw the pain and confusion in Willow's face.
"Baby, I didn't mean -"
"I know you didn't mean. But do you see how out of control you are? Do you see why I can't stay?" Tara pressed on ruthlessly as Willow rose, her head shaking back and forth.
"God, no... I wouldn't ever - I didn't mean - Oh, God," Willow said, her voice small and weak. With a sob she ran from the house and Tara longed to go after her, to assure her that she knew Willow would never have done such a thing on purpose, but something stopped her. How could she, honestly, be sure that Willow hadn't done something like this before - and that she then conveniently forgot?
"You okay?" Xander managed to say, watching helplessly as his oldest and dearest friend ran from the house. It was a toss-up as to which one needed him more right now, and all he could really think clearly was that this sucked.
Tara nodded wordlessly as Xander helped her rise, looking around confused, like she had no idea what she was seeing.
"What happened?" Xander asked gently.
"W-willow lost control. The magic leaked out," Tara said softly, unable to meet Xander's gaze as the full knowledge of what had just happened sunk in completely. "I-I never expected -"
"Of course you didn't," Xander said, settling Tara into a chair. "I'm sure it wasn't on purpose."
"No, it w-wasn't. I know that. W-where did she - ?" Tara asked, her expression still a little dazed, but clearing.
"I have no idea. She just took off running. I wanted to make sure you're okay," Xander said, sitting down himself. "Besides, that thing knocked me off the steps, and I'm feeling a little shaky myself. That Willow: packs a wallop."
"Y-you don't have to be nice to me," Tara said slowly, taking deep breaths and looking at her hands. Dawn's reaction earlier in the day had firmly reminded her of her place here. Willow's friends. Willow's girlfriend. Not her friends. "I'm leaving W-willow."
"I kinda' guessed," Xander said slowly. "Is it the magic?"
Tara nodded, blinking back the tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes.
"Where will you go?" he asked, half-expecting but fearing her answer. Life was a funny thing, he mused. He knew where he'd go if he and Anya ever broke up, and it was the last place he should go. Ever.
"Home," Tara said, her voice breaking on that one simple word - that word that had come to mean something so different than what she knew growing up.
"No," Xander said firmly, now knowing what he had always suspected about the woman next to him.
"I-I deserve to be there. W-with them. I'm leaving W-willow," Tara gasped out brokenly, scrunching up her face to hold back the tears.
"Tara, no," Xander said again, turning on the couch to face her fully and angling his head to catch her eyes with his own.
"Y-you don't understand," Tara said, angrily wiping away the moisture from her eyes. She would not cry. Not now. Later - she could cry later.
"They hit you, didn't they?" Xander asked bluntly.
Tara lost her fight against the tears, a little hiccup escaping before she sagged back against the couch, lost in the memories. "To b-beat out the D-demon," she managed to say as Xander pulled the sobbing woman into his chest, rocking her gently.
Xander felt tears sting his own eyes, knowing all too well what Tara was feeling. "There's no demon. You're a good person. You did nothing to deserve that. You still haven't. You don't have to go back," Xander said, murmuring comforting phrases continuously while Tara cried herself out. It was funny, he supposed - not funny "Ha Ha" but funny "ironic" - that he had finally found some common ground with his best friend's girlfriend just as she was leaving.
"No o-one knows. Not even W-willow," Tara said softly as her sobs subsided and she pulled gently away, the pain and confusion disappearing abruptly, leaving nothing but an eerie calm and cold emptiness in its wake.
"You never told Willow?"
"I-it never seemed like the right time. And she never asked. I w-was just so happy, I didn't want to think about it."
"Well, most of the gang knows about my folks," Xander said, his voice hoarse. "They, uhh...never came up with anything as creative as demons, y'know. More of a 'we're gonna' beat the lazy out of you, boy' or - my personal favorite - 'how did we have such an ungrateful son?'" His joke fell flat, he knew, but humor was the only weapon he had against it.
"O-oh, Xander, I-I had no ii-idea," Tara finally responded.
Xander shrugged, trying to smile, but assuming he had failed miserably. "Well, I got out, and that's the important thing," he said with forced cheerfulness. "I like to think I'll never go back, but there's that part of you that always feels like you deserved it. Like you still deserve it, right? Like there's a box you were born in, that's all familiar, even if it isn't safe - and it's like you were never meant to leave it. But you did leave it, Tara, and you don't fit in that box anymore."
Tara could only look down in response, taking deep shuddering breaths and trying to calm down.
"Look, Tara -" Xander began seriously.
"Don't try to talk me into staying," Tara warned, turning her wide and aching eyes to Xander's face.
"I'm just saying... don't go back there. No matter what happens, keep the good parts from Willow, okay? Hell, call me a romantic, but I want things to work out between the two of you. But if they don't, I want you both to be the better for it. Just - don't go back there. You're a strong gir - errr, woman."
"I can't stay here," Tara said, looking around at the house she had called home over the summer.
"How about you just stay with me and Anya tonight?" Xander asked suddenly.
"What about Willow?" Tara asked, not sure of the sincerity of the offer, but touched nonetheless.
"Willow will bow down at my feet that I talked you out of leaving Sunnydale altogether," Xander said, a wry smile on his face. "But I won't try to talk you into going back to her," Xander assured quickly. "I won't even tell her where you are, if you don't want - but don't go back to them."
"But Willow's your best friend," Tara protested.
"She is. And she always will be, but if she loves you - and I know she does - she'll see that it's best you stay with me and me not tell her than for you to go back there. Okay?"
"Are you sure Anya won't mind?" Tara asked.
Xander just grinned, pushing down his worries and fears to think about later. "I'll grab the boxes."
Willow ran, as fast as she could, going nowhere and anywhere as long as it was away from the Summers home. Her shoes pounded against the walk, her breathing ragged. She didn't notice the cool air or the late hour, her mind playing and replaying her fight with Tara like a movie.
They were yelling. It was serious, and Willow hurt. Every single piece of her was raw and jagged like she'd been torn to pieces by little razors, and all she knew was that Tara was causing the pain. Tara was leaving her.
Then there was the anger, flashing red-hot, before settling into something icy and heavy in her chest. It had shattered, and Willow couldn't have stopped it. She didn't mean for that to happen. But it had, and Tara had been knocked unconscious with the concussive force of the blast.
Willow ran on, not looking where she was going, and paying no heed as her steps took her into the nearest cemetery. Her steps, though, slowed as her shoes hit soft earth instead of the hard sidewalk, her breathing slowing, but her brain still not processing what her eyes were telling her, occupied instead with the events of the evening.
Her life had flashed before her eyes, and in that moment of clarity, she had seen that every event in her entire existence had led her to that moment when she had looked across the way at that stupid wicca meeting and met Tara's eyes for the first time. Seeing everything in sequence like that had made it so very obvious that her whole life meant nothing without that moment.
And she had ruined it. Ruined everything. And Tara still hadn't moved. She'd begged for those eyes to open, and they hadn't. Tara hadn't answered her call, and Willow had been so afraid.
Then those beautiful blue eyes had fluttered open, and Willow's heart started beating again. Her breath returned and she felt like everything was going to be all right - until she had moved to help Tara stand.
Willow felt the cold now - now that she had stopped running. She regarded the cemetery with pain-shadowed eyes, feeling somehow that the death and darkness surrounding her was appropriate. Those eyes that had always looked at her with such love and devotion had held fear, and a piece of Willow had been ripped out by those eyes.
And there was nothing she could do. She had tried to fix it - tried to fix it the only way she knew how, but she had ruined it. She hadn't been smart enough, careful enough, or powerful enough to make it all better, and now she just felt like that helpless little spaz she had been. And she hated it.
"Well, well... what do we have here?" came a voice from the darkness. Willow turned slowly, her eyes shifting to a pure bottomless black.
"A little pretty come to play?" taunted another voice.
Three vampires emerged from the shadows, and Willow smiled. They paused at the smile, dark and full of menace, one even staggering back a step under the weight of Willow's stare.
With a gesture and a word, she called out to the darkness, and the darkness answered, leaving three piles of dust in its wake.
Tara's heart felt heavy and cold, and she shivered under the blankets, wondering if she would ever be warm again. No Willow smile, no soft body next to her own, no reassuring presence. Just a cold dead spot in her heart and in her bed.
Not that it was really a bed. She was sleeping on Xander's couch, which brought a brief, wistful smile to her face. Anya had been incredibly upset, as Tara had guessed, but not for the reason Tara had suspected. No, the ex-vengeance demon hadn't minded that Tara was staying the night; she was, rather, upset that Tara would be going anywhere in the first place, as Tara had agreed to help plan the wedding.
It was bittersweet, this caring and acceptance. She had seen it before when the Scoobies had chased off her family on her 20th birthday, but she had always thought they had done it for Willow. Perhaps they had, at the time, but now, it seemed, they would stand up for her without Willow at her side. No longer an extension of Willow, then.
Did she have a place here with these people? They seemed to care - about "Just Plain Tara", not "Willow and Tara." Could she... stay?
No, she couldn't, and she knew it. It would be too hard to see Willow at Scooby meetings and around Sunnydale. It warmed her, though, that if she ever came back - if Willow could ever choose her over the magic - that she'd have a place in her own right. As for right now, she'd try to get some sleep. She would stay until dawn, and then be on her way.
"Baby?"
Tara's eyes popped open, and she froze.
"Tara?"
Sitting up, Tara looked around the room, searching for the speaker. It was Willow's voice... she'd know Willow's voice anywhere, but Willow wasn't here. There was no one here.
"Come back to me, baby. I need you."
Tara frowned, her eyes narrowing. Magic? Was Willow actually trying to use a spell to change her mind? A nauseous feeling settled into her gut and Tara feared she might be sick.
"Does she think so little of me?" she whispered hoarsely, shaking in the cool night air.
"Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me."
Tara closed her eyes and concentrated, feeling the air around her. Yes, definitely magic. But that voice - it didn't sound quite right. Willow?
"Don't go!"
Plaintive now and more desperate, the voice came again, definitely not sounding like Willow this time. Tara took a deep breath, relaxing further and letting her mind sense the magic around her. No, that didn't feel like Willow. Wherever this spell was from, it wasn't her - it wasn't Willow trying to manipulate her through magic yet again.
A sense of relief washed over Tara, then quickly turned to dread. The magical energy in the room was increasing - surging, and Tara could only guess the caster was losing control. Pure fear welled up inside, and Tara stood as the walls began to shake.
Tara pulled the energy into herself, chanting the ancient words, binding with the power and making it her own. She released it slowly, little by little, draining it away from this spell and turning it into a harmless pure light white.
"Let it go... let it all go..." the magic seemed to whisper to her, as she struggled to hold on to her own energy - her own mystic being - and keep it bound to her. "Let it go and the pain can end. Everything can stop. You'll be safe and happy if you just let go."
"No!" The sound reverberated through the apartment, and Tara had no idea who had called out. Tara? Who? Was she Tara? Was the energy Tara? Where did Tara end and the energy begin? But she had to hold on to Tara. She knew that. She knew.
But what was Tara? There. The colors. The colors were pretty. She would keep the colors and let the white light go. It was blinding and it hurt her eyes, even though her eyes were closed. Yes, that was it.
The spell ended abruptly, and the room fell into blackness. Tara fell to her knees, and Xander and Anya were immediately at her side, which somehow didn't surprise her, though she hadn't heard them come enter the room.
"Tara? Tara... talk to me," Anya said, cradling the limp form in her grasp.
Tara gathered herself, forcing a word past her dry lips.
"Dawn."
"Dawn!" Buffy called out, running up the walk and past the ambulance parked in front of her house. Fear and worry rose up within her, as she moved passed the dispersing crowd. "Dawn?" She remembered fear and worry from Before, but hadn't actually felt them since she'd been back. Is this what she had been missing? It felt icky.
"Buffy?" Willow yelled from inside the house. The responding police units drove away, leaving only the ambulance behind.
"Willow? How is she - is she?" Buffy asked, making it to the door and standing aside as Willow and the paramedics hurried down the stairs, Dawn on a stretcher.
"They said she'll be okay," Willow reassured her.
"What happened?" Buffy asked, her eyes riveted to Dawn's pale face as the stretcher passed. Visions of a different body, a different stretcher flashed across Buffy's mind.
"I don't know... I got home and I went up to check on her, and she was barely breathing," Willow said, looking at Dawn anxiously. "I called an ambulance."
"Are you the sister?" a paramedic asked as Buffy moved with the stretcher towards the waiting ambulance.
"Yes, I'm Dawn's legal guardian," Buffy confirmed, holding Dawn's hand as they moved. "Is she going to be okay?"
"We think she'll be fine. Her heartbeat and breathing are both steady right now. We just need to get her to the hospital. You coming?"
Buffy nodded, moving to climb into the ambulance after the man. "Will?" she said, turning back to look at her friend.
"I'll make the calls," Willow confirmed. Buffy nodded her thanks, then sat next to Dawn, taking her small hand in her own and watching her breathe.
"I love you, Dawn," Buffy said softly, leaning over her sister and kissing her cheek gently. "You're going to be okay."
The doors closed and the ambulance took off, taking the Summers sisters to the hospital. Willow stood there a moment, her arms wrapped around her middle as she watched the vehicle depart, her face worried.
"What happened to the nibblet?" Spike asked, sliding out of the shadows where he had waited until the crowd had cleared.
"I - I don't know," Willow said numbly. "She wasn't breathing, and her pulse was all over the place. I was out, and I went to check on her, and she was just lying there."
"She get into anything? I dunno - Drain-o or something?" Spike asked, trying to deal with his own worry.
"She - I... it looked like she was casting a spell of some kind," Willow said. "I didn't really have a chance to look." She tore her gaze from the street, her eyes filled with confusion and self-doubt. "Should I have looked? Do I need to look?"
"It's all right, Red," Spike said softly. "Let's just go call the others, then head to the hospital. I'm sure Buffy will need us."
Willow nodded, hurrying back into the house and dashing to the phone, Spike behind her entering more calmly.
"Where's your bird?" he asked, looking around and just noticing that Tara was absent.
Willow almost dropped the phone at the question, turning away from Spike and squeezing her eyes shut tight. "She... uh... she's not here," Willow said evasively as she silently willed Xander to pick up the line.
"Not here? Then where is she?" Spike asked.
"She left me," Willow said starkly as the answering machine picked up.
'Hello, you've reached Anya. Please leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I can. Oh, and Xander lives here, too. How was that, baby? BEEP'
"Xander, Anya... this is Willow. Dawn's in the hospital. Buffy's there, and Spike and I are on our way. Last we heard she's going to be fine, but we don't know what's wrong with her. I gotta' go," Willow said, hanging up the phone then moving to the door, grabbing a jacket on the way.
Spike followed, carefully closing and locking the door behind him, then jogging to catch up with Willow. "That's really too bad. I liked your girl. Pretty thing," Spike said reflectively. "Well-mannered, which is more than I can say for the rest of you lot."
Willow kept walking, ignoring Spike's words.
"So why'd she leave you? She got a pretty little bird on the side? You going to cast a spell, make her come back?" Spike asked, grinning wickedly. If he remembered correctly - and he might not, because he was thoroughly knackered at the time - when Drusilla had left him, Willow had been less than sympathetic. Really, only Joyce had lent an understanding ear.
"This is none of your business, Spike," Willow ground out.
"Or, you could call up D'Hoffryn, right? Get changed into a vengeance demon, then give her a pox," Spike suggested amicably.
"Shut up, Spike."
"Or you could just try that 'Forget' spell again," Spike went on cheerfully.
Willow stopped, spinning around to stare daggers into the vampire. "I said to shut up," she growled.
"Or what?" Spike taunted. "You going to kill the pathetic defenseless vampire? Go right ahead, Red. I'm quite willing and able to die."
Willow turned again, continuing the walk and Spike fell silent. He wasn't particularly fond of the idea of having his head handed to him on a silver platter, right before he and it turned into dust.
Still silent, they got to the hospital quickly, easily finding the pacing slayer.
"How is she?" Spike asked.
"They think she's going to be all right, but she won't wake up," Buffy said, her face pale and drawn. "Why won't she wake up?"
"She'll wake up," Willow said, trying to inject as much confidence into her voice as she could. "She'll be okay."
Buffy took a few deep breaths, closing her eyes and composing herself. "You call Xander and Anya?" she asked.
"Yeah, but I got the machine," Willow said.
"That's okay," Buffy said slowly. "There's really nothing they can do but wait and worry with us."
"Can I get you anything?" Spike asked suddenly. "Bad coffee? Old moldy sandwich from a vending machine? Snickers bar?"
"No, thank you, Spike," Buffy said. "As yummy as that sounds, I think I'll pass. Where's Tara?"
Willow stopped, that question knocking the wind right out of her. She couldn't worry about Dawn and Tara at the same time - it was too much. Her gaze dropped to the floor as a lump formed in her throat and she found she was having a hard time forming an answer.
"Red's bird left her," Spike said, seeing that Willow wasn't going to speak anytime soon.
"Well, she's here now," Buffy said, nodding over Willow's shoulder. Xander, Anya and Tara hustled into the room, spotting the group easily and hurrying over.
When Xander and Anya had felt the shaking, they had rushed into the living room to see Tara standing and chanting, before they had to cover their eyes and look away from the brilliant white light. When the light had stopped, it had taken them a few moments to find Tara's slumped form on the floor.
They had made their way over to the Summers home, Anya and Xander supporting Tara as her legs were still shaky and weak.
They arrived to find the house quiet and empty. Tara still had her key and they had gone in, Anya helping Tara up the stairs to Dawn's room as Xander called to check for messages on their answering machine.
When Anya and Tara had seen Dawn's room, their eyes had met, equally worried expressions on their faces. A rough circle of powdered chalk was ground into the carpet by footsteps, and a bowl in the center was tipped over, its contents spilled onto the floor.
Shakily kneeling down, Tara had checked the items, seeing a feather wrapped in two strands of hair - one red and one blonde - and a doll's eye crystal on a simple chain she had immediately recognized as the one she had given Willow so long ago that they had both thought was lost in the move.
Tara had fingered the chain carefully, looking around in a daze, wondering what had happened to Dawn. She pocketed the crystal and stood shakily as Xander came bounding up the steps to tell them that everyone was down at the hospital.
They had immediately set out, somewhat relieved that it seemed Dawn would be all right, but worried nonetheless.
Willow's head shot up, her eyes landing on Tara with a look of such hope and longing that Tara couldn't meet her gaze. Willow's stomach dropped.
"How's Dawn?" she asked, her heart clenching with worry over Dawn and the sight of Willow's stricken face.
"They... they think she'll be fine," Buffy said slowly. "How did you know?"
"She tried to cast a spell on me," Tara said simply.
"She - what?" Willow asked, sitting heavily in a nearby chair.
"She tried to cast a spell on me, so I wouldn't leave. It was too advanced, though, and she couldn't contain it," Tara explained, her voice clear, but weak.
"Why would she - ?" Willow asked. "Baby, are you all right?" she asked, noticing how unsteady Tara seemed.
"I'm just tired," Tara said, waving off her concern. "I felt the spell, and I felt it start to go wrong. I tried to keep it from blowing up completely."
"Wait a minute - she was casting a spell?" Buffy asked. "She was casting a spell on you," she stated flatly.
Tara nodded as Buffy's face grew dark.
"If she was casting a spell, we can fix it, right?" Willow asked, looking around the room.
"No!" Tara said loudly, her voice echoing in the mostly empty room.
"If magic caused it, magic can fix it," Willow insisted again.
"Right now, I trust Tara's judgement a lot more than yours, Willow," Buffy said pointedly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Willow asked, her face clouding.
"Dawn looks up to you. She idolizes you, and she sees you throwing magic around like it's candy on Halloween. What did you think I meant?" Buffy demanded.
"But I'm just trying to make things better. Fix things. Help people," Willow protested.
"You can't fix this," Tara broke in. "Not with magic."
"What does that mean, exactly?" Buffy asked, the color leaving her face. "And why the hell wasn't anyone home?"
"That's my fault," Tara said, her eyes downcast as she swayed slightly where she stood. Xander grabbed her elbow, helping her stay upright.
"Easy there," Xander said gently.
"Willow left, then I did, too. I thought Dawn was asleep, that she'd be okay," Tara said simply, her voice filled with misery.
"It's not your fault, Tara," Buffy said, closing her eyes. "It's... it's not your fault."
"N-no. I-I, umm...I should have been there," Tara insisted.
"So what, exactly, is wrong with Dawn?" Willow asked.
"She's depleted. Her energy scattered with the spell when she couldn't control it anymore," Tara said swaying again, only to have Xander catch her and Willow rush to her side. "I'm okay, I just need to sit," she said softly.
Xander and Willow helped her into a chair, Willow cradling her hand in her own.
"Then that's easy," Willow said encouragingly. "We just collect the energy, then bind it back into Dawn's body."
"No," Tara said, a world of heartbreak in that one word. Her gaze drifted, as the whole world seemed to shift in and out of focus, like it was real one moment, but not the next. "Don't you think I tried that? Don't you think I tried? I thought if I could just keep her energy in her body, that she'd be okay. But she wasn't okay. She was in there, bound in there, but she couldn't control the body," Tara mumbled, her soft voice echoing strangely in the completely quiet room as everyone held their breath, trying to figure out what Tara was talking about.
"Who, baby? Who'd you try to save?" Willow asked gently, brushing a strand of hair back from her face, hoping her comforting gestures wouldn't be unwelcome to this woman she loved so dearly.
"Mommy was in there, but she couldn't control it. She couldn't make her lungs move, or her heart beat. She was on life support, and Daddy wanted to pull the plug. It didn't work - it didn't work, and I had to unbind her so she could cross over. It didn't work," she finished, her words full of a child's pain.
"You tried, baby," Willow said softly, her chin quivering and her eyes filling up as she leaned in and kissed her forehead gently. "You tried everything you could."
"Does that mean... that Dawn... ?" Buffy asked haltingly, breaking the ensuing silence. Buffy's question seemed to bring Tara back to the present from where she had drifted and she shook her head.
"No, Dawn will be all right. She just needs time and rest," Tara reassured Buffy.
"But she's still asleep. She won't wake up," Buffy went on.
"She'll be fine, Buffy," Tara reiterated.
"How do you know?" Buffy asked, not doubting the words, but needing the reassurance.
Tara smiled understandingly. "Because I felt the spell, I felt it when it lost control, and I felt Dawn before she blacked out. She's got enough energy to recover." Tara stiffened when she realized her hand was in Willow's, the sweet familiarity of that hand warming her even as it tore at her heart. Slowly, she pulled back, folding her hands in her lap and missing the hurt look on Willow's face.
Willow stood, pacing around the room and trying to calm her breathing and stop her guts from escaping through her throat.
Buffy took in a shaky, relieved breath, sitting down next to Tara. "Thank you," she said simply.
"I'm sorry," Tara said so softly, Buffy almost didn't catch it.
"What for?" she asked.
"I really should have been there," Tara said, the strength of her voice returning. "I could have stopped her, or she wouldn't have wanted to in the first place, or -"
"Tara, stop it. This isn't your fault."
"Why don't you just say it? Just say it, Buffy!" Willow exploded from across the room. "It's all my fault, because I'm a bad, bad person," Willow said, kicking a chair viciously.
"You're not a bad person, Willow," Buffy said flatly. "Just an idiot."
"A what?" Willow asked incredulously.
"Where do you think Dawn got the idea that it was okay to cast spells on your friends, Willow? Where do you think she got the idea that magic is for fixing all the little things you don't like about life?" Buffy pressed.
"I never taught her -" Willow started to protest.
"You didn't have to. She's a fifteen-year-old girl. She learns from example," Buffy said.
"Like you've been such a great example in your decision-making?" Willow asked, her voice bitter and ruthless.
"Can I say something?" Spike asked slowly.
"No!" Buffy and Willow shouted in unison.
"Right then," he said, settling back to watch.
"What do you mean by that, exactly?" Buffy asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she stood up toe to toe with Willow.
"What the hell were you thinking, dying like that?" Willow demanded.
"It was me, Dawn, or all of reality," Buffy said flatly. "I chose me."
"Yeah, well, goody for you! You get to take off to a nice happy place and leave Dawn and the rest of us here to fight all the vampires and demons and hell gods and worrying about you and what kind of torture you're going through. You get this nice warm vacation and we're trying to hold it all together and keep any baddies from finding out you're dead, because if they knew, they'd just destroy the whole town and we don't have super strength or slayer healing or kung-fu fighting. And the only thing that kept Dawn from being sent off to live with your father was the BuffyBot who kept malfunctioning, but looked so much like you that Dawn started treating it like you, and that just isn't healthy for a fifteen-year-old girl, and the only thing we could think of was to try to bring you back, and we do, and we're happy to have you back, only we find out that everything was great for you before, and it sucks now. Well it sucked here the whole time, Buffy... and if it's so great over there, why don't we just all go join a cult and drink the Kool-Aid?"
"You finished?" Buffy asked quietly.
Willow nodded once, the wind leaving her sails.
"New house rule: no magic on Summers property unless it's cleared through me first. And for you, that means none at all," Buffy said simply.
"But Buffy, you can't just -" Willow said.
"No, Willow. No magic for you. If you don't want to agree to that, then you can leave."
Willow looked around uncertainly, wondering when everything had gone so wrong. "Fine," she said, nodding again, resolve-face firmly in place. "When you change your mind, I'll be at my parents house." She couldn't bring herself to look at Tara as she walked out of the hospital.
"Willow? Willow, wait!" Tara called, hurrying to catch up.
"What?" Willow snapped, stopping and turning to look at the woman who meant the world to her - the woman who had left her.
"Y-you don't have to move out of Buffy's house," Tara said slowly.
"I know that," Willow said shortly. "But Buffy isn't going to tell me how to live my life. I'd rather move out."
"The magic means that much to you?" Tara asked, her eyes full of sorrow.
"It's not the magic! It's the principle of the thing!" Willow yelled. "She's not the boss of me, and she can't make me do what I don't want to do."
"Willow, I'm sorry," Tara said lamely, her eyes downcast and expression miserable.
"Sorry? You're sorry?" Willow said incredulously. "What, exactly, are you sorry for?"
"I'm sorry you're hurting," she said softly.
"Then stop hurting me!" Willow said, closing the distance between them and grasping her arms lightly. "Please, don't leave me, baby," she pressed on, cupping Tara's cheek softly and raising her face to capture her eyes with her own, two identical expressions of lost confusion and pain meeting each other.
"I can't stay," Tara began, her eyes begging Willow to understand, if not forgive.
"Why? Why can't you stay with me," Willow pleaded. "I just don't... I guess I don't understand," she finished weakly.
"This magic - this power you have, Willow. Can't you see? You're not controlling it. It's controlling you, and I'm afraid for you," Tara tried to explain.
"Afraid for me? But I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me, sweetie. We - we just need to work this out. We have to work this out," Willow said.
"No, Willow - we can't," Tara said, shaking her head and pulling away from Willow's hand. Her Willowhand.
"Why not? Why are you so against magic helping people? Making life better? I just don't see -"
"That's right," Tara said, her voice harsher than she had intended. "You just don't see. You don't see that this is hurting me, and hurting you, and it's destroying us."
"But magic is what we do - it's what we are. You, me... we're magic, baby," Willow argued back, her voice filled with confusion.
"Our magic was love and trust, not spells," Tara argued back. "I don't - I can't trust you anymore. What part of 'I cast a spell on my girlfriend' aren't you getting?"
"I-it was a mistake," Willow began, pausing to gather her thoughts.
"What was a mistake? You casting the spell, or me figuring it out?" Tara asked.
"Why did you run after me?" Willow asked suddenly.
"I wanted to make sure you were safe," Tara confessed softly. "You know - 'Nighttime in Sunnydale'."
"Why are you doing this to me?" Willow questioned, her voice shaky and low, her eyes filling up with tears as she cupped that beautiful face in her hands. "Why?"
"Doing what?" Tara wondered aloud, her body leaning in towards Willow without her permission.
"Why are you leaving me and taking care of me? It's too much - I can't -" Willow said helplessly, her eyes roving over Tara's face, taking in each feature, soaking in each curved line and smooth plane.
With a desperation that shocked them both, Willow captured Tara's lips with her own. Involuntarily, Tara's mouth opened, accepting Willow's warm tongue as a moan escaped her. When was the last time they kissed like this? Yesterday? Weeks? An eternity? Had they ever stopped? Was this just a continuation of that first tentative touch?
Willow felt Tara's arms wrap around her, and she pressed herself into Tara's body, the familiar curves feeling... perfect. She lost herself in the feel of Tara's lips against her own, their tongues tangling together.
After far too long, Tara's wits returned and she stiffened, pulling away from Willow.
"Tara? What?"
"Willow, don't," Tara said simply, taking a step back. "We - we can't - that doesn't solve anything. You promised. One week, we agreed. One week was all, and... Goddess, it was what - ten hours?"
"Buffy needed -"
"No! There's always an excuse," Tara said, cutting off Willow's words. "You can't just - Why can't you see that this is wrong?"
"Because it's not wrong! I have the power to do these things, and -" Willow started, only to be interrupted again.
"And that makes it right? Since when does having the power make you right? Glory had the power to take my sanity, so it was okay? You have the power to steal my memories, and that's not a problem?"
"I'm sorry," Willow said, her voice plaintive.
"I still love you, Willow. I think I always will," Tara confessed, her voice thoughtful and distant. "But I can't stay."
"Then I guess - I guess that's it," Willow said in a lost tone.
"W-wait here, and let me go get Xander," Tara said, turning back. Willow followed, moving towards the hospital entrance.
"I can walk back home by myself," she said dully. "I don't need a babysitter."
"I know you don't," Tara said, carefully keeping her face forward and not looking at Willow. "But, humor me, okay? Would you want me walking around by myself?"
"No, I wouldn't," Willow said slowly.
"Then, just wait here," she replied, leaving Willow at the hospital entrance.
The world came crashing in just then, and Willow slumped against the wall, gasping for breath as tears tracked down her face. Images flashed through her mind, of Tara, Buffy, Dawn - all the Scoobies, Tara again. She was losing it - losing them, and she didn't know how to hold on anymore. She wasn't sure she wanted to hold on anymore. Wouldn't it be easier to just let it all go? They'd be back when they needed some serious witchy power. They'd come running when they needed her.
"Willow?" Xander stood awkwardly, his hands tucked into his back pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels.
"Hey, Xander," Willow said weakly, standing up straight and wiping her face with the palms of her hands.
"Well, let's get you safely to your destination, fair damsel," Xander said, smiling briefly and making an expansive gesture with his hand, indicating Willow to walk ahead.
"She's really leaving me," Willow said after the two friends had walked awhile in silence, a trace of wonder in her tone, as if the concept were entirely new and alien to her.
"Willow, I -" Xander said, then stopped, everything he could think of to say sounding stupid in his head.
"Am I that unlovable?" she asked, and Xander was aware that the young woman before him wasn't the confident college student, but the awkward high-schooler.
"Of course not," Xander objected, stopping Willow with a hand on her arm and pulling her into a warm hug. "Your Loveable Cuddly Willow. You're the most loveable person I know," he insisted, rubbing her back gently as she cried into his shoulder.
"Then why? Why is she leaving me?"
"She does love you," Xander said softly. "Don't doubt that."
"Oz loved me, too. He left me, too," Willow said, her voice trembling.
"She's just... I think you both need time," Xander said after a long moment.
"Time for her to move on? Time for her to forget me?" Willow came back bitterly.
"No. You both need time to figure out what you really want," Xander said soothingly.
"She wants me to give up the magic. She insisted I not cast for a week," Willow confided, wiping her tears away on Xander's shirt and earning a chuckle at the familiar gesture.
"Then why didn't you?" he asked.
"What?" Willow replied, pulling back and looking up into Xander's face, expecting to see the harsh accusation she had seen in the other Scoobies, but only seeing honest bafflement.
"If Tara is the most important thing to you, and she wanted you to go a week without spells to prove that you could, why didn't you?"
"But - the spells - they're... I need them, Xander," Willow tried to explain.
"More than you need Tara?" he asked bluntly.
"You don't understand," Willow accused, stepping back and staring at Xander sullenly.
"I know I don't. That's why I'm asking you to explain it to me. Like geometry," Xander said. "I know you understand, so tell me."
"I - it's... it's hard to explain," Willow said after a moment, continuing to walk, Xander following loyally behind. "It's like, we live in this awful place, with the Hellmouth, and the demons, and the whole 'world ending badness'... and the magic lets me help. It lets me make sure you, and Tara, and everybody else... it makes me make sure that you're all safe. I need you to all be safe, and so I need the magic."
"But no one was in danger," Xander pointed out, referring to her spell earlier that day.
"But Buffy was hurting," Willow cut in. "She was hurting, and I could fix it - aren't I supposed to fix it when my friends are hurting?"
"I dunno, Will. I guess that's up for everyone to decide for themselves. But, I guess... I dunno. Buffy's happiness against yours and Tara's. It's a tough call, and I'm glad I didn't have to make it, but Buffy can probably work through this on her own. She's only been back for a little while, all things considered," Xander pointed out.
"I just - I just wish it had all gone right. Then everything would be okay. We'd all be happy and safe," Willow said softly. "That's all I wanted."
"I know that, Wills. But maybe there are some things we're supposed to work out without magic. I mean, lots of people do it every day."
"You're taking her side, aren't you?" Willow accused suddenly. "You're on Tara's side in this whole darn thing!"
"No!" Xander denied. "I'm on your side. But being on your side means making you happy, and I think Tara is what makes you happiest. Not school, not Scoobyage, and not magic. Tara has made you happier than I have ever seen you, which means I want you to get Tara back," Xander explained desperately. "I know this is hard for you, but to get Tara back, you're going to have to cool it with the magic."
"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Willow demanded. "Why does everyone keep blaming the magic? It's not wrong, and it doesn't hurt anything."
"It's hurting your relationship with Tara. Is the magic worth that?" Xander asked, beginning to lose patience with his stubborn friend.
"Yes! The magic keeps you safe. It keeps Tara safe! It stops Glory from hurting her... if I had just been faster, or smarter, or if I'd had more magic, I could've stopped... oh God, I could've stopped Glory," Willow said desperately, stopping in her tracks, her body shaking.
"Glory's gone, Willow - and I doubt we'll ever have to deal with another Hell God," Xander said, rubbing her arms briskly. "All I know is, you and Tara are unhappy, and she's leaving."
"Where is she gonna' go?" Willow wondered aloud.
"She, uh...she said she was going back home. To her family," Xander said haltingly, torn between the idea that Tara might not have wanted that bit of information to get out and loyalty to his friend.
"She what?" Willow asked. "But - but -!" she spluttered. "She can't go back there!"
"That's what I said. That's why she was staying with me and Anya tonight. I don't know about after that, though."
"But - she can't go back! She... it took so much for her to get away," Willow said, turning around and starting to walk back towards the hospital, intent on making Tara see reason. If she was leaving - which Willow still didn't think was right - then she couldn't go back. Couldn't she see that?
"Will - hold up!" Xander said, grabbing her arm.
"Let me go - I have to stop her," Willow demanded, trying to pull away.
"It's okay, Willow," Xander tried to assure her.
"No, it's not okay! She can't go back to that place - to those people!"
"I don't think she is. I think she's already changed her mind," Xander said.
"Are... you're sure?" Willow asked, looking up at her friend, who had never lied to her.
"Yeah. Buffy and I were talking, and I mentioned that Tara was thinking of going back. You probably don't want to hear this - and I promise, it's not that any of us are taking sides, but Buffy was going to offer to let Tara stay. At the house."
"At the house? Tara's staying in Sunnydale?" Willow asked quickly. "You're not just saying that? She's really not going back?"
"Yeah, I think Buffy's going to ask her tonight, so she should be staying," Xander agreed, smiling at the look of utter relief on Willow's face.
"God, I really hurt her, didn't I?" Willow asked suddenly, her face twisting up. "I'm... I almost sent her back to... God, I'm..."
"Hey, Willow. It's okay," Xander said, trying to stave off the babble speech he knew was coming.
"What am I going to do, Xander? I need her," Willow said softly.
"You want my honest advice?" Xander asked, eyeing Willow warily.
"Yeah, I really do."
"Well, Willster. My honest advice is to give up magic for a week. Do it for a week, and then go talk to Tara, see if you can start working things out."
"Xander," Willow said admonishingly. "I can't give up -"
"Can't or won't, Willow? You asked for my honest advice. Well, that's it. Give up magic for a week while you're staying at your parents' house, then go talk to her."
"But Xander -"
"No buts, Willow. Do you want the girl or not? If you can give it up for a week, then you need to. You, umm," Xander continued, a scary thought crossing his mind. "You can give up magic for a week, can't you?"
"Of course I can!" Willow defended herself.
"Then you're going to have to prove it," Xander said sadly. "'Cuz Tara's really hurting, and I honestly think she needs you to do this."
Willow nodded, defeated, as she and Xander started packing her things to take to the Rosenberg home.
"Now I'm the bleedin' errand boy," Spike muttered, watching in disgust as Willow and Xander stopped yet again on their walk to have a nice little chat. "Blasted sun will be up soon enough, if these two don't start walking."
Hefting their boxes, Xander and Willow kept going, talking about Tara again, no doubt. Spike followed along, keeping his distance and a sharp eye out, like Buffy had asked him.
"I'm love's bitch, all right," he grumbled unhappily. He knew - oh, he knew that Buffy was keeping him on a string, but something kept him coming back again and again. Something made him want - no, need - to be there for her, despite her mixed signals and harsh words. "Of all the demons that had to set itself up where my soul used to be, it had to be a masochist, didn't it?" he railed, looking heavenward and frowning.
As if in answer, a light drizzle began.
"Brilliant. Bloody brilliant," Spike muttered, hurrying up to catch the Scoobies who were now jogging with their last load of boxes down the last block to the Rosenberg home.
Later, Spike would swear there had been no warning. There had, in fact, been none.
One moment, he was following along, and the next, Xander was down, an ugly snarling demon parked on his chest trying to rip out his throat.
Game face in place, Spike ran, knowing Buffy would never forgive him if anything hurt these two on his watch.
"No!" Willow screamed, dropping her box, her eyes shifting color, becoming bottomless pools of black. The monster - demon? - whatever it was, it paused, turning to look at Willow.
With a low growl, Spike launched himself at the creature, fangs bared, tackling him off of Xander and allowing the young man to roll free. Xander stood awkwardly, watching as Spike traded blows with the demon.
They fought furiously, and Xander moved into position to attack the creature from behind. A low droning sounded in his ears, making his head buzz. Dazedly, he shook his head, trying to clear it, waiting for his opening to help Spike.
Willow watched, her face as stone as Spike and the monster fought. Her hands raised, called the very darkness of night into herself, before hurling it at the creature with all of her might. "Destroy," she commanded, the thrill of power shooting up and down her spine.
The dark energy hit the creature, and it shuddered once, before redoubling its efforts, fighting Spike back, and eventually knocking him off his feet.
"No!" Willow called again, rushing to Spike's side and turning to face the creature. It looked at her, its horrible face so alien and strange, Willow could discern no expression on its features. Anger? Rage? Hate? What was it thinking?
With a great shudder, Willow called to the darkness again, gathering it into herself, collecting it carefully as the creature continued to stand. It seemed to cock its head to the side in a gesture that looked like it was trying to figure out exactly what Willow was doing. Did it find Willow's face as strange as she had found its face? Was it trying to figure out what she was thinking?
"Begone!" Willow intoned, releasing the magic she had gathered in a primal rush. The creature shuddered again, raising its arms to the sky and letting out a great bellow, before turning and running into the night.
Spike watched the creature go, turning a wary eye on the black-eyed witch next to him. "You can calm down, Red. It's gone," he commented, standing gingerly and brushing himself off.
"What was that?" Xander asked slowly.
"I have no idea," Spike admitted, squinting after it. "But it better run," he called out. "Because if I see it again, I'll give it more of the same."
"You'll let it kick your ass some more?" Xander asked.
"Oh, big words from the spider-eating man-bitch," Spike taunted, smirking at Xander. "It knocked you for a right loop."
"Both of you, stop it," Willow said, looking into the night where the thing had run, her face pale and still.
"Hey, Will, you okay?" Xander asked, moving to her side. Willow closed her eyes briefly, trying to get her nerve endings to settle. No longer harnessing that power, she was left with a familiar tingly, kind of floaty feeling.
"You're bleeding, Red," Spike pointed out, his nose picking up the sharp tang of blood before his eyes had seen it in the dark.
"I - what -?" Willow said, suddenly feeling something warm and wet on her upper lip. She lifted a hand, touching it gingerly before pulling it away and staring at her fingers like she had never seen them before.
"Hey, hey!" Xander said, beginning to worry about the lack of reaction in Willow. "Come on, Willow. Say something."
"What was it?" Willow asked dazedly, her pupils dilated and her gaze unfocused.
"We don't know," Xander said, nodding emphatically. "But we'll find out."
"Right, then," Spike said, pursing his lips in irritation and picking up a box. "Guess I have to carry this, as Red's in no shape for any heavy lifting."
"Uh... thanks, Spike," Xander said uncertainly, picking up the other box.
Spike and Xander set off towards the Rosenberg home, taking several steps before realizing Willow wasn't following.
"Wills?" Xander called back, his face full of concern.
"Huh? Oh! Yeah," Willow said absently, walking after them, her steps unsteady.
"That was quite a show," Spike said conversationally.
"Yeah, Willow - umm...what did you do to that thing?" Xander asked.
"I just threw some power at it. Y'know - hit it with the magicky goodness?" Willow said, her words slightly garbled.
Spike sniffed reflectively. "It seemed to get stronger when you threw that first volley at it."
"It - what?" Willow asked, turning confused unfocused eyes on the vampire.
"Your first bit of 'magicky goodness' made it stronger, I said," Spike repeated dutifully.
"Oh, yeah. Maybe," Willow managed, waving a lazy hand in the air. The street lamp overhead blinked once, then twice, then went out completely as they passed.
"Umm... Spike?" Xander asked, sidling up to the vampire and lowering his voice.
"Yes?"
"Is this... uh... worrying you?"
"No, not really. I mean, if Red goes loony and zaps us into oblivion, I don't have to deal with this bleedin' chip anymore."
"That's comforting," Xander said.
"We need a Scooby meeting!" Willow suddenly exclaimed, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, making Spike and Xander stop up short to keep from running her over. Willow walked on, marching up the driveway to her parents' house. "We should call one right away."
"Umm, Willow, actually..." Xander said, searching for an excuse. "We sorta'."
"What Xander means to say," Spike said, cutting in smoothly. "Is that everyone's at the hospital and worried about Dawn, so we'll have the Scooby meeting tomorrow night. Right?"
"Yes, that's exactly it," Xander said, nodding gratefully.
"So," Spike went on, "you toddle off to the hospital, and I'll make sure Red gets settled."
"I don't think -" Xander began, reluctant to leave Willow alone with the vampire.
"It's not like I'll bite her," Spike said to Xander in a low voice as Willow unlocked the front door. "Got that chip, remember? I'll just keep an eye on her and make sure nothing else happens tonight, and you let the other Scoobies know."
"If you try anything," Xander warned in a low voice, leveling what he hoped was an intimidating glare.
"No need to worry," Spike said, gesturing with his head for Xander to precede him into the house. "I know Buffy'd stake me something but good if I tried anything. Besides," he said, his hands bumping into the open space where the threshold of the house lay. He gave Xander an impatient look.
"Oh, Dear Spike," Xander said grandly. "Won't you please come in?"
"Bugger off," Spike said, stepping into the house and letting the box drop heavily onto the floor. "As I was saying, I like Red's bird, and she's still sweet on her, so..." At that he trailed off, shrugging and stepping over the box he had left lying there and looking around the house with a curious air. "Red grew up here, eh? Figures."
Willow wandered up the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister. Xander sighed heavily and gave Spike an irritated look before leaving the boxes and hurrying to help Willow navigate the steps. Spike wandered into the room a few moments later, grinning wickedly and letting out a cutesy, "Aww, now isn't that a picture?" as Xander tucked Willow into bed.
"Xander?" Willow said sleepily, her eyes drooping heavily.
"Yeah, Will?" Xander whispered, ignoring Spike who sighed heartily and rolled his eyes, flopping into a chair and propping his feet up on the desk.
"I forgive you. It's okay you stole my Barbie. You can keep her," Willow said generously before rolling over and falling completely asleep.
"You stole her Barbie?" Spike muttered. "And I thought I was an evil bastard."
Xander said nothing, moving over to the windows and closing the curtains. "There. You're all set. If you need anything, we'll be at my place, Buffy's, or the hospital."
"No, really?" Spike asked. "You sure you won't take a little vacation to Siam?"
"Look, Spike. No jokes right now, okay? You can be an asshole later. Right now, just keep an eye on Willow."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll watch Red. Hope she doesn't snore."
Wondering if leaving Spike with Willow was really such a good idea, Xander left the house, locking it carefully behind him and heading back to the hospital at a brisk jog.
Something was happening to Willow. He didn't know what, he didn't know how... come to think of it, he didn't really know where or why either. Just who. And he was worried. Very, very worried. The weird magicky nosebleeds, the strange behavior, mood swings, defensiveness. It was almost as if...
"Xander!"
"Tara," Xander said, spotting the woman sitting across the waiting room. He jogged over and sat next to her, giving himself a moment to catch his breath. "Dawn still all right?"
"Yes, they think she's going to be fine. They just want to keep her until tomorrow for observation, then they're letting her come home. Buffy and Anya are in with her now. I was in there earlier."
Xander nodded, relieved that something looked like it was going to turn out okay tonight. "Look, Tara... something happened," Xander began.
All the color drained out of Tara's face and her eyes grew wide. "Oh, Goddess, is it Willow? Is she all right?" she asked, standing up.
"She's fine," Xander said encouragingly, tugging on Tara's hand to get her to sit down. "She's fine, I think."
"You think? You don't know?" Tara started in again, moving to stand, only to have Xander pull her back into her seat.
"Will you let me finish?" Xander asked.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Tara said, settling for wringing her hands nervously in her lap.
"We got attacked," Xander started to say, only to be interrupted again by a worried Tara.
"Was she hurt? Did something hurt her?" she asked urgently, her stomach dropping at the idea of anything harming her Willow.
"Look, she wasn't hurt... the thing didn't even get near her," Xander said, trying again. "We were attacked by something. We were just walking along, and everything was fine, when I was knocked down and this thing was sitting on me trying to give me a new opening to breathe through," he said, trying to use words that wouldn't panic Tara further. "Spike showed up and knocked it off of me. Spike fought the thing, and Willow cast a spell. Spike claims that whatever Willow did, it made the thing stronger. I don't know," Xander said, shrugging. He noted the conflicting emotions traveling across Tara's face and pressed on, seeing that she was content to remain silent for now. "Anyway, she cast another spell, and it ran off."
"But - she's all right?" Tara asked softly. She was appalled to find that any story involving Willow casting a spell made her angry, and she felt guilty that the spell in question had been used to keep Willow safe. At the same time, she was totally relieved to hear that the demon hadn't injured Willow at all.
"Mostly. She got a nosebleed, her steps were shaky. She seemed kind of out of it, really. Really unfocused, like she wasn't exactly hearing or seeing what was going on around her."
"She didn't hit her head or anything, did she?" Tara asked, moving to stand again.
"No, she didn't hit her head. The only thing she did was throw around some magic. Nothing touched her."
"I - I should be there," Tara said, standing up and pacing. "I need t - to see her. I have to make sure she's okay."
Xander groaned, then stood. "All right," he sighed. "Let's head back over there."
"N-no, you can stay here," Tara said. "You need to tell Buffy and Anya what happened."
"That thing is still out there," Xander protested.
"I can handle it. I just... I just need to see Willow. I'll be all right, I promise," Tara said, squeezing Xander's arm reassuringly before dashing for the door.
Tara made her way to the Rosenberg residence, her heart clenching at every step. "Please be okay, Willow," she whispered aloud, her words punctuated by her shoes plodding against the pavement. She hadn't meant anything like this to happen. Had leaving really been the right thing? Dawn was in the hospital, Willow was hurt, and none of them had gotten any sleep that night. Was this all her fault?
"No," she said, quickening her steps. It wasn't her fault. She hadn't forced Dawn to cast a spell that was too much for her - would, in fact, have argued against it. Nor was she the reason a demon had attacked Xander and Willow. Still, if she had only given Willow one more chance, none of it would have happened.
And really, didn't she want to give Willow another chance? Didn't she want everything to be right between them again? Yes, she did, but people couldn't always have what they wanted. That's one of the things she had learned growing up.
Hadn't her family taught her that? To get used to disappointment? They had, but she had been so sure that things would be different this time - that, free of the demon she had lived with all her life, she could be happy.
Shaking her head, she looked up to see that she had arrived and was standing in the middle of the sidewalk in front of Willow's house. She walked up to the door, her hand trembling as she raised it to ring the bell. She waited just a few moments before the door swung open, and Spike was standing there.
"Well, now," he said, smiling. "Guess I get to go back to me crypt. I'll just leave you two lovebirds alone," he said, pointing up the stairs to indicate where Willow was.
"W-we broke up," Tara said softly, stepping into the house past Spike.
"Oh, I know that," Spike said. "Red's been pretty maudlin this evening. In any event, circumstances don't change how you feel. Love's funny like that - it sticks around when it would be easier to go away."
Spike smiled brightly as Tara just gaped at him. Since when was Spike such a philosopher?
"I'll just toddle off. Good night."
Tara stood a moment, stunned, as Spike left, closing the door behind him. Shaking her head, she climbed the stairs quickly, then slowing down to quietly open Willow's door. Peeking in, she saw Willow sleeping peacefully.
She slipped into the room, closing the door gently behind her, wondering why she was here at all. Willow whimpered in her sleep, turning fitfully. That was why. Because Willow was hurting, and she didn't have the strength to stay away. She had the strength to stand up for herself, the strength to hurt Willow if necessary, but Goddess help her, nowhere in her entire being was there the strength to stand idly by while the world hurt her Willow.
She took off her shoes and skirt automatically, sliding under the covers and gathering Willow up into her arms, and Willow settled down, mumbling happily. Gently, she stroked Willow's hair, humming a little tune her mother used to sing to her softly before drifting off to sleep.
Spike let out a sigh of relief as he escaped the Rosenberg home. It was more a force of habit than anything else, and one he had never really tried to break. Of course, Spike wasn't one for breaking habits, bad or otherwise, and so he decided her really didn't care.
Shrugging his shoulders to loosen the tension, he started walking. He honestly had no idea where he was going or what he was going to do. He'd had his suspicions, and now he knew. The question was, what to do with that knowledge? Keeping it to himself was dangerous, but telling Buffy posed its own dangers, largely of the wooden and pointy variety.
Not that he'd really done anything wrong. Force of habit, like the cigarette in his hand he couldn't recall lighting. He walked quickly, if aimlessly, his agitated state propelling him forward as he argued with himself.
Would Buffy really stake him for a taste? That's all it had been - he'd just dabbed his finger in and taken a little taste. And where was the harm in that.
"Of course, she's just looking for an excuse to dust you, old boy," he told himself. "You confuse her, and she don't like it." Still, the feelings were there. Buffy felt something for him. The question was, would that save his unlife if he told Buffy he'd nicked a taste of Red's blood?
It hadn't really been his fault. He'd just been sitting there, keeping an eye out for baddies, when her nose had started bleeding again. Force of habit to take a taste, really.
"Here I am with this bleedin' chip in my head, and she's got so much extra blood it was leakin' out. Can I really be blamed? It was all perfectly innocent, really," he muttered, practicing his argument.
He walked quicker, shivering slightly as a warm trill crawled up his spine. Yes, it had been just a taste, but what a taste it was. He couldn't explain it to any of the Scoobies - and they certainly didn't want him to - but warm fresh human blood was just...
Spike grinned. It was fuckin' fabulous. But this damn chip meant he couldn't have it. He couldn't have what he craved so badly until he thought his insides would rip his body apart, tearing through him to go on its own search for it. Sure, the animals and donated blood kept him alive, but that was like... lite beer. No, worse - it was non-alcoholic beer. Bloody O'Douls.
And Red's blood had been - wow. Just a taste, and he could feel it singing in his veins. And that's what he had to find a way to explain to Buffy.
"Bloody hell!" Spike yelled, finding himself standing in front of the hospital. "Apparently you've already decided," he admonished himself aloud.
Shaking his head in self-disgust, Spike walked into the hospital, hurrying to the area where he knew Buffy would be waiting for news.
"How's the nibblet?" Spike asked, his cold dead heart twitching uncomfortably at the sight of Buffy sitting along in her uncomfortable chair, a lost look on her face. He seated himself next to her, leaning his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands loosely.
"She's awake now," Buffy said, pulling herself into the present. "Xander says you guys had a little excitement?" she asked, changing the subject.
"That's right," Spike confirmed, nodding slowly, counting the tiles on the floor. "Had a bit of a run-in with an ugly."
"An ugly what?" Buffy asked.
"I have no idea."
"And Willow's all right?"
"Oh, yeah, sure," Spike said, sitting up and leaning back. "Red's all right. Her bird showed up, so I took off."
Buffy nodded slowly, pursing her lips. "Why are you here, Spike?" she asked finally.
"What, a guy can't just decide to stop in at the hospital and have a look-see?" he asked uncomfortably. Now that he was here, with the Slayer sitting next to him, he was sure that the whole idea of telling her about Willow was an incredibly stupid one.
"Umm...no."
"Right, then. Well, you see," Spike said, trying to find the least incriminating words. "Have I ever told you about the time me and Dru-"
"I'm sure I don't want to hear that Spike," Buffy said, her back stiffening.
"Ahh, then... well."
"Just spit it out, Spike."
"It's Red," Spike said.
"Yeah, I know. Wacky mojo, nosebleed, confusion," Buffy said, ticking off each point on her fingers as Xander had related them.
"No, it's... something has her," Spike said slowly.
"What?" Buffy asked, jumping to her feet. "What do you mean something has her? I thought she was with Tara?"
"No! I mean, yes... she's fine," Spike said. "It's just... she's gone all dark, Buffy. Something's gotten ahold of her, or she's become something... she's..." Spike stopped, growling in frustration at his inability to articulate what was so clear to him.
"Look, Spike, I don't have time for word games. Either tell me or don't," Buffy said impatiently.
"You remember Dru, right?" Spike asked, trying this from another angle.
"Yes, I remember Dru," Buffy responded as if speaking to a slow child. "Wait - Dru doesn't have Willow, does she?"
"No, I told you, Red's fine. But she's not fine. She's like Dru."
"Run that by me one more time? You kind of lost me when you compared one of my oldest friends to your psychotic vampire bitch ex."
"Seriously, Buffy. Has Red been acting strange? Other than the flashy magic. Has she done anything weird for her, like, I dunno - skip classes?"
Buffy paused, the serious look on Spike's face making her consider the question carefully, despite the flippant example. "Well, I... she yelled at that one guy at school, but - really, I just thought, y'know, 'Go Will.'"
Spike smiled grimly, nodding as if that confirmed his suspicions. "Her temper's been a bit short, hasn't it? Her judgement's been off?"
Buffy nodded, her brow furrowed. "Yeah, she has - but what's your point, Spike?"
"Something bad has her. It's like, she's been channeling all these dark dangerous powers - they're becoming a part of her. They already are, to some extent."
"So you're saying it's like a possession thing?"
Spike pursed his lips, trying to think of an example that would help clarify. "Okay, let's say Red ate twenty candy bars a day, right?"
"Oh, I so hope you're going somewhere with this that doesn't involve Evil Snickers," Buffy replied.
Spike rolled his eyes before continuing. "She'd get really fat, until she didn't really look like the person you knew anymore, wouldn't she?"
"Okay, is it just me, or is this the world's stupidest example? And somewhat - offensive?"
"Please, just bear with me," Spike said, trying to keep his temper in hand. "So, the source is the Snickers, but the fat cells are a part of her body now. They're part of who she is, physically."
"I'm with you, but I don't see your point."
"The spells are doing that to her. She's digesting magic - lots of it from some dark power - and it's affecting who she is."
"Well, now that I've wasted five minutes of my life listening to that thoroughly riveting explanation, why don't you tell me how you got that crazy idea?" Buffy said sarcastically.
"I just know, Buffy. It's true."
"Look, it's an interesting theory and it explains the weird behavior, but I think Willow's just having a serious wiggins and she'll calm down."
"No, she won't calm down - that's what I'm trying to tell you," Spike argued.
"How do you know?" Buffy shot back.
Spike sighed, hoping he wasn't about to become a bit of dust for the nice janitorial staff to sweep up. "You know how wine-connoisseurs -"
"Is this going to be another charming simile?" Buffy asked sweetly, a fake smile on her face.
Spike stood, glaring down at the Slayer. "Fine. I'll just toddle off to my crypt, and when Red goes all loony-tunes and its too late to stop it, I'll just laugh my arse off." With one last look, he turned and started walking away.
"Wait, Spike," Buffy called, standing up to follow him. Spike stopped, but didn't turn around.
"Oh, sure - now you want to hear it. You sure you want to listen to another 'charming simile'?"
"You have to admit, this is a little far-fetched. Sure, her spells are out of hand, and she needs to cool it with the magic, but she's not... evil."
"No, she's not, but she is dangerous, and getting more so every day," Spike said, finally turning, his face serious.
"Okay... wine people. Go," Buffy prompted.
"They can taste the wine, and they can tell you where it came from, what year it is, all that?"
"Right. Gotcha'. Wine-tasting people can do cool James Bond suave stuff. Now... Willow?"
"I, uhh... I can do something similar with blood," Spike said slowly, eyeing Buffy warily and waiting for her reaction.
"And when does this story get back to Willow?" Buffy asked, before realization dawned visibly on her face. Faster than he could blink, Spike found himself pressed against the wall, a stake at his chest and a forearm pressing uncomfortably into his throat. "You drank her blood? Give me one reason not to kill you."
"I didn't - it was - she had a nosebleed and I got some on my hand when I cleaned it up. I licked it off, got a taste, and then I knew."
Buffy's look of anger was quickly replaced by a look of revulsion. "Nosebleed? Spike, that's just... ewww. Ewww."
"That's not the point, Buffy," Spike said when Buffy eased up the arm against his throat. "The point is, that blood was dark and powerful. Like Dru. But more so... there's only a bit of it in there, but whatever's there is pure bad."
"So we - what? Off Willow?" Buffy asked incredulously.
"I don't know, Buffy. But you have to be careful around her."
"Willow wouldn't hurt any of us - not on purpose," Buffy insisted.
"You don't get it, do you? It's. In. Her. Blood. It's a part of her. It's changed her, and she isn't the Willow that you knew. Not anymore. The only thing that's keeping her remotely balanced..." Spike trailed off, shaking his head.
"What, Spike? What's keeping her balanced."
"Tara. Her love for Tara was in there, too. And it's strong, yes, but the darkness is fighting it - fights in the blood leave a bitter aftertaste."
"So, Willow's got bitter blood, and Tara can fix that?" Buffy asked. "I still don't see what I'm supposed to do about all of this? What can I do, Spike?" she challenged.
"What did Xander say about the fight tonight?" Spike asked suddenly.
"Change the subject much?" Buffy asked. Seeing Spike's impatient look, she relented. "Let's see... it went 'Big Ugly, Scary Mojo, Wacky Willow'."
"When Willow cast the spell at whatever-it-was, it made the thing stronger. I suggest you start looking there," he said, turning and walking away.
Willow smiles slowly, a warm fuzzy feeling enveloping her. With a soft little sigh, she snuggled closer to the source of her contentment, trying to ignore the pounding between her ears. She knew the headache was a consequence of her spellcasting the day before, but the results were worth it. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she drifted back towards sleep.
A hand - Tara's hand - started gently stroking her hair, the soothing sensation stealing attention away from the dull throb behind her eyes.
"N-no," Tara murmured, her arms tightening around Willow and cuddling her close.
"I'm here, Baby," Willow mumbled, nuzzling the skin near her face and placing a light kiss there.
Tara settled down, her warm hands slipping underneath Willow's shirt and stroking the bare skin of her back. Those sweetly familiar hands urged Willow closer, and she complied, shifting herself to lay more fully atop her sleeping lover, their legs entwining happily. The sound of Tara's heartbeat under her ear urged her to relax against the warm soft body beneath her.
She smiled when she felt Tara turn her head, pressing her lips to her hair.
Everything was perfect. Buffy didn't remember being in Heaven, Tara wasn't mad at her, and Willow was happy getting snugglies from her girl, and with that thought, she drifted seamlessly back into her dreams.
Tara's own dream continued, her face pulling into a frown. Willow - crying. Willow - betraying her. Willow - looking so very lost and alone, he heart broke to see it.
But Willow was here, wasn't she? Dreams and reality merged and shifted, and Tara was aware of both holding Willow in her arms and turning from here - walking away.
'Please, let this be real,' Tara's heart begged as her arms tightened around Willow's slim body again.
A noise caught Tara's attention, rumbly and low. It was slow, but rhythmic, and she tried to follow it through the fog of sleep, hoping it would lead her back to Willow.
The fog surrounded her, though, in shades of gray. Only the occasional flash of Willow's hair broke the dull monochrome of the area, though something wasn't quite right. The color was... off, somehow, though her heart knew it was still Willow. And so she followed the noise and the flashes of a deep crimson red, like Willow's hair was being seen beneath a blue light. But there was no blue light here - just gray and gray and gray, endlessly confusing and swirling around her in a chaotic mist.
Willow was lost. She had to find her.
There - the noise was there .. and there it was again, and Tara walked, seeking the source of the sound, and another flash of deep red hair.
Something warm and wet dripped onto her chest - no, it was coming from her chest, oozing up from the skin. The fog filled her vision, but she looked down, seeing a brilliant red stain there, seeping into her skin and her shirt.
She was bleeding - or was it Willow who was bleeding? Just who shot who? Willow was bleeding - she had hurt Willow, and now she hurt, too.
But no, that wasn't right. Willow had hurt her, but they were both bleeding and torn.
And Willow was lost. Had to find Willow.
Why couldn't she find Willow. Couldn't she always find Willow. Maybe she wasn't looking hard enough.
A hand drifted up, touching the blood and Tara frowned. There was something wrong. Everyone was bleeding, but there was something wrong with her blood - with the Demon MaClay Blood. But no - it was Willow's blood. Willow's blood was wrong, because it wasn't Willow's blood at all, but MaClay blood - but Willow wasn't one of the Demon MaClay's, and the blood was hot and angry against her fingers.
Tara ran, trying to escape the fog and the confusion and the Demon Blood, lost in a hazy gray mist.
Her eyes fluttered open, a groan escaping her.
"No. G'back t'sleep," Willow slurred, her face scrunching up into a child's pout.
Tara blinked a few times, trying to clear her mind of the dream and pull herself into the waking world. But something kept her tethered to the dream even as she tried to awaken - something the same in both worlds.
Tara lifted her hand and studied it with sleepy eyes before her brain registered exactly what the red stain on her fingers was. She craned her neck, tilting her head and peering around Willow's hair - her correctly-colored hair - and seeing the red droplets of blood against the smooth white skin of her chest.
Willow was bleeding. Willow was lost.
No, not lost - right here. Tara blinked her eyes a few times, breathing in the cool morning air.
Willow was here, but bleeding.
Willow had a nosebleed.
Tara took a deep steadying breath before gently rolling onto her side, depositing her lover onto her back. Or ex-lover? Betrayer? Tormenter and Demon?
Willow made a grumpy little noise before snuggling into the warm bedding.
Willow was all these, and so much more. Companion. Seductress. Vixen and Saint. Willow was everything, but how could Tara stay with someone who had hurt her so badly?
Standing on shaky legs, Tara walked to the bathroom, getting a cloth and running it under warm water.
She looked up, and big blue eyes above dark rings and bags stared back at her in the mirror. With a critical eye, she looked like she had stayed up all night and slept in her clothes, which was certainly true, but she also looked like... she looked like she used to look every morning when she awoke back home. Haunted. Frightened. Weak and small.
She discarded the cloth, dipping her hands beneath the water and bending towards the sink, splashing her face and wondering how she could leave someone who loved her so very much. But how could she stay? Hadn't she run from the people she loved and claimed to love her when the pain had grown too great?
And this was worse - ten times worse - for she had trusted Willow in ways she had never trusted her family. She had never trusted them to keep her safe, but to keep others safe from her once she changed.
Trembling where she stood, she splashed her face again, screwing her eyes shut tight and rubbing her eyes vigorously.
Willow, she decided wildly, was her Demon. She was the MaClay Demon, and the family legends were true - and if she had only gone home on her 20th birthday, she wouldn't know this pain. Everyone would be safe and happy, and it was her own selfishness for wanting to stay in the first place that caused all of this.
And who had convinced her to stay, despite the legends? Despite the sure knowledge that the Demon came for all MaClay women? It had been Willow, who had told her she wasn't evil. It had been Willow who had shown her that she didn't deserve to be hurt. It was Willow who, with her every gesture and every word, had convinced her that the Demon didn't need to be beaten out of her, because there was no Demon. And that she was worthy of love.
Tara picked up the cloth and made her way carefully back to Willow's room, the tears making it hard to navigate in the largely unfamiliar house.
Willow still slept, her face peaceful and serene. An Angel's face, masking the woman who had taught her she was worthwhile and strong, only to try to tear that knowledge away with a thoughtless spell.
Carefully, Tara sat on the edge of the bed, dabbing at Willow's upper lip with the cloth and cleaning the blood away.
Shaking her head, Tara tried to dispel all thoughts of Demons and Angels from her mind. It was ridiculous, really - this was Willow. Her Willow. She hadn't meant to hurt her. Willow would never hurt her intentionally.
But hadn't she said the same of Donnie? Of Papa?
Tara looked on Willow's slumbering form, her mind turning over and over as her heart just sat and wept. A sad smile lifted one corner of her mouth as she realized that Willow's love would always be a source of strength, and it was that strength that allowed her to stand up and walk out of Willow's room, down the stairs, and out the door, letting her Demon rest.
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