Answering Darkness
Home : Stories by Author : Stories by Sassette : Answering Darkness - Page 2"Buffy?" Dawn croaked out, her throat dry and her lips cracked.
"Hey," Buffy said groggily, raising her head and looking around to orient herself before landing her gaze on her sister. Dawn smiled weakly, and Buffy smiled back. Dawn had been so quiet - so still. She had woken briefly, convincing the doctors that she had sustained no lasting brain injury, only to fall back asleep, her system still worn and stressed.
In the long night, she had far too much time to think, and she realized now it was the stillness that had bothered her. The steady but shallow rise and fall of Dawn's chest had been her only movement, and in its predictability, it had seemed like it shouldn't count as movement at all. It wasn't like Dawn was trying to move, or was able to move; it was just what her body did naturally.
And it had been disturbing. Disturbing in that it had seemed as though Dawn wasn't really there at all, but someplace else, apart and away from the real world, and that Buffy couldn't reach her. And it was disturbing in that, through the night, Buffy had begun to wonder. Had Dawn felt the same way, seeing her body lying broken and still after she had closed the portal? Had Dawn felt this helpless and afraid?
Buffy didn't consider herself a deep thinker. Oh, she was bright and certainly capable, but given to self-analysis? No, she wasn't the type to wonder about these things. She was more of a "tell me how to kill it, and I'll get started," kind of girl. So why was she suddenly so worried that she had made a mistake?
Willow's words rang through her mind in the dark, and Dawn's words, pleading with her to stay. And her own words. Over and over.
The hardest thing indeed.
But Willow had been wrong, Buffy knew that. She knew it as certainly as she knew she was alive and breathing, because all of it hurt.
And yet...
"Could I have some water?" Dawn said slowly.
Buffy jumped to her feet, filling a glass and placing a straw in it. Here, she was in her element. Here, she had a task - something she could do, that would make a difference. Dawn needed water, and Buffy could provide it.
Buffy sat on the edge of the bed, holding the cup for her sister and placing the straw between her lips. She brushed back the hair from Dawn's forehead as the girl - no, honestly, she was a young woman now - drank slowly.
Now there was movement, and pain. She could see it in Dawn's face. She was hurting, like Buffy was hurting. Heaven had been so very still. It had been so very peaceful and warm, but had she really belonged there? Dawn was here, and Buffy was all that Dawn really had left. If given the chance to return to that stillness, would she leave Dawn again?
"How are you feeling?" Buffy asked, before shaking her head. "I bet everyone's going to ask you that, and I bet you're not feeling so hot, huh?"
"Yeah. I'm just, really tired," Dawn admitted. "Are you going to yell at me?" she asked warily.
"Yell at you?" Buffy asked in mock surprise. "For casting a spell on a friend that was way too powerful for you and ending up in the hospital? Now, why would I wanna' do that?" she asked, in the dreaded 'sarcastic voice.'
"I was just trying to -"
"No, Dawn. Not now," Buffy said, managing to convey both the finality of her words and her love for her sister in her tone.
Dawn nodded slowly, and Buffy ran a hand down her arm to squeeze her hand.
"Dawnie?" came a voice from the doorway, and Dawn looked up, a delighted smile on her face.
"Tara?"
"Yeah, sweetie," Tara said, moving into the room and sitting on the other side of Dawn's bed. She had come to the hospital straight from the Rosenberg home, feeling more confident and sure with every step.
"Tara, I'm sorry," Dawn said, her face screwing up into a grimace and tears welling up in her eyes.
"I'll leave you two to talk," Buffy said, giving Tara a significant look before standing and walking from the room.
Buffy was almost grateful for the excuse to leave. She knew she had to handle Dawn's most recent "adventure", but right now she needed a little space to breathe.
"Dawn," Tara said, stopping the young girl from speaking when she had opened her mouth. "What you did - it... Goddess, it wasn't right, Dawn," Tara said gently, laying a hand on Dawn's shoulder. "It was dangerous, and disrespectful, and -"
"I know, and I'm so sorry," Dawn said miserably. "I just... I just didn't want you to go. Not like everybody else. Everybody is always leaving me," she said, her voice choked and ending on a whisper.
"Oh, Dawnie," Tara said. "I... it had nothing to do with you, sweetie. I just - I had to go. But it wasn't you - never you."
"But you left," Dawn said starkly.
"I know I did," Tara said, taking a deep breath. "But Dawnie, you can't use magic to control people and things to your liking."
"I - I know," Dawn said, looking down at her covered legs and tugging on the threads of the hospital blanket.
"What you need," Tara said, a half-smile on her face, "is a better understanding of Wicca and magick."
"Buffy won't let me learn. She won't let me do anything," Dawn complained.
"We already talked. Last night. She'll let you do this. I'll teach you," Tara said slowly, her own fingers fiddling with the blankets, unsure of Dawn's reaction to the offer.
"What? Really?" Dawn asked, her voice raising and ending on a squeak.
"Yes, but it's not all flashy lights and stuff," Tara said. "There's a lot of philosophy. And gardening."
"But - that's so cool - I'll really get to... ?"
"Yeah, really," Tara said.
"So I'll get to see you all the time, too?" Dawn asked, her smile growing larger as each new implication of this new development occurred to her.
"More than you think," Tara said wryly. "I'm moving back in."
Dawn stopped, her face reflecting the hope she expected to be shattered. "So, you and Willow - ?" she asked, trying to sound casual.
"No," Tara said, shaking her head slowly, unable to meet Dawn's eyes. "It's... complicated. But we all decided it would be best if I moved back in, and Willow moved out."
"So... I mean, don't you - aren't you..." Dawn gave up trying to articulate what she was feeling, letting out a heavy sigh.
With a look of understanding, Tara answered anyway.
"Yes, I still love her. And yes, I'll miss her. But this really is for the best. It means I can stay in Sunnydale and keep going to school, and I can teach you magic before you end up blowing up the house," she finished wryly.
Dawn winced. "I really am sorry -"
"I know you are, Dawn. But you have to realize two things: that magick and people aren't toys, and that none of us are going anywhere and that we love you."
"Still?"
"Still."
When Willow woke, the spot in the bed next to her was cold. With a start, she awoke, the old creeping over her from Tara's side of the bed and into her heart.
She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest and gathering the covers around her and tucked up under her chin. The curtains were closed, just a pale edge of light outlining the placement and shape of the window. She assumed it was just past dawn, but the sun couldn't touch her chilled cocoon.
The dark shapes and shadows here were familiar, but wrong. This wasn't her room. Where was she? Where was Tara?
The answer to that question came to her with the suddenness of a blow. Gone. Tara was gone, and she... she was alone.
Shivering against the chill morning air, Willow curled up tighter, a low heart-wrenching keening noise escaping her. The pitiful wretched tones filling the air. A sob shook her body, then another, until she couldn't stop them, or the stark reality of Tara's departure, from filling her.
She had had a dream last night, that everything was okay - that her spell had worked, and Tara had forgotten. Buffy had forgotten. She and Tara had been in bed together, snuggled up close, and she had known that everything was right with the world. She had been warm and safe, and so very happy.
But she had woken up alone on a cold winter morning, at her parents house, knowing that everything wasn't okay. Last night had been full of spells and demons and pain. Buffy hurting, Dawn in the hospital, Giles in England, and Tara - oh, God, Xander had said Tara was going to go home, back to the people who had treated her so badly.
Why would Tara want to do such a thing? She couldn't fathom it - couldn't wrap her brain around the idea that Xander and Buffy had given her a place to go when she, Willow, was no longer where Tara wanted to be.
An icy resolve filled her - one that terrified her even as it gave her hope. Xander had said she had to give up magick for a week to get Tara back, so that's what she would do. She could do it, she knew she could. Tara didn't know, though, so she had to show her. She could do that, she was sure of it. There wasn't anything she couldn't do for Tara, and if this is what Tara needed, then she would. But first, she had to get out of bed.
She threw the covers off before she could think about it too hard, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and placing her feet on the cool carpet.
Shivering, she stood, looking around the room that had been her home for eighteen years. There wasn't enough light to really see. Automatically, she made a quick gesture, a mumbled word passing her lips, and the curtains opened, letting the feeble rays of the sun into the room.
The sky was overcast, all gray and gloomy. It matched Willow's mood as she moved to the closet, opening it and looking at the clothes there. God, she hadn't seen any of these in years. She was surprised, really, that her parents had kept her high school things.
She rummaged through the clothes, finally finding a pair of jeans and a t-shirt in the very back that weren't so bad. Quickly dressing, she went to the door, her hand on the knob before stopping cold.
A chill went up and down her spine and she froze. Had she just - ? She turned slowly, staring at the window, then raising her hand into her line of sight, staring at both like she had never seen them before. Had she opened the curtains with magick? Surely, she hadn't, right? She had just decided she was going to go a week without using any, so she couldn't have changed her mind mere moments later. She had had on her resolve face - nothing had ever beaten her resolve face.
A look of total shock playing across her features, Willow sat down heavily on the floor, her back pressed to the cool wood door. She hadn't meant to - it had just happened. She had needed light, and then the curtains were open, but that didn't really mean anything. It had been a reflex, and she'd just have to be more careful. This wouldn't count. She'd just start her week over, and everything would be all right again. It had to be.
Sighing, Willow stood awkwardly. She would just do better from now on. The magick wasn't in charge here - she was. And as of right now, she wouldn't do any magick. Nodding emphatically, she turned and opened the door, making her way down to the kitchen.
She looked around the room, a frown tugging at her face. It looked exactly the same, right down to the itinerary up on the fridge.
"Our of town again," she muttered to herself, one finger tracing the paper lightly. That was okay, though. It made being her easier, knowing her parents were away for the week.
But being here wasn't easy. The sharp contrast between this room and the Summers kitchen struck her sharply. The Summers kitchen was warm and inviting, and this... this wasn't. It was sterile. Functional.
Willow opened the fridge, looking at the food inside through watery eyes. She didn't belong here, not anymore. The food looked decidedly not-appetizing, and Willow's stomach felt like it was filled with lead. She just wasn't hungry, so she closed the door, wondering what she was going to do with herself for the rest of the day.
She supposed she could get started on unpacking. With a swing of her arms, she headed determinedly out to the foyer where the boxes sat haphazardly around the door. She picked one up and started towards the stairs, then stopped.
Why should she spend hours unpacking everything? Why should she carry these heavy boxes all the way up the stairs? With a few simple words, all of her things would be unpacked and in place, and she could go do something else. There was no one here to stop her, so why not?
She put the box down, turning to look at the other boxes.
"Tara wouldn't like it," she told herself sternly, shaking her head, trying to clear the idea out. But it would be so easy, and it wouldn't hurt anything. Tara wouldn't even have to know. She could just...
"Just what?" she asked herself aloud, trying to ignore the idea that talking aloud to oneself was kinda' crazy. "Just lie to her some more?" She couldn't do that. Not if she wanted Tara back. But if she didn't know, then where was the harm? Tara wasn't the boss of her. Tara wasn't the one who had all this power building up inside of her until it was screaming to be let out.
She continued arguing with herself, even as she said the words and the boxes and their contents disappeared, reappearing in her room, everything in its place.
"Oh, God. What did I just do?" she muttered, her eyes wide and disbelieving as she stared at the empty space where the boxes had been. This was harder than she had thought it would be. And she was failing miserably.
Could she really have a problem? Could the magick really be controlling her, rather than the other way around? The mere thought made her heavy stomach twist and a wave of nausea washed over her. With a groan, she dashed to the bathroom, hand over her mouth, then knelt before the toilet, dry heaves shaking her body.
She could stop, couldn't she?
Of course she could.
Then why wasn't she? Why the spells?
Because it was easier. She didn't have to do things the hard way anymore.
Yes, she did. She had to get Tara back the hard way. She had tried the easy way, and she had failed. She had failed miserably, because she was a miserable failure. She was a fake and a fraud and...
A knock sounded at the door. Pale and clammy, Willow stood, quickly splashing some water on her face before going to the foyer where she had just... no, she wouldn't think about it.
Another knock, and her hand was on the doorknob. She turned it slowly, pulling it open.
"Hi!" Anya said brightly, beaming at Willow. "Xander said I should come by to tell you that Dawn was all right," she said earnestly. "He also said that I should check up on you and tell him how you were doing."
Willow gaped at Anya for a moment, before her words sunk in. Dawn was all right. A flood of relief poured through her, and her eyes drifted shut for a moment.
"I can see that you're pale and shaky, but standing and dressed, which is more than I expected. Well, I'm going to go open the magick shop," Anya.
"Wait," Willow said desperately. "Can't you stay a minute? I could make tea, or... something?" she said. Anya had to stay. She wouldn't cast any spells in front of Anya, so as long as Anya was here, she would be safe. As long as Anya was here, she wouldn't have to tell Tara how weak and pitiful she was.
"Oh, I couldn't. I'm a working girl, and there's money to be made."
"But... do you usually make sales this time of morning?" Willow asked, casting around for an argument that would make Anya stay, at least for a little while. "Because if you open the shop, but don't make any sales, you'll actually lose money, because you'll have to pay yourself... and, and the electricity you'll use with the lights on - you'll have to pay for that, too. And the wear and tear on the chairs and carpeting, being in there with no sales... that costs money. So you should really stay," Willow babbled.
Anya looked at Willow suspiciously before stepping into the house. "Tea? You're going to actually make the tea and not just..." she said, making a vague gesture in the air.
"Oh, I'll make it!" Willow said quickly. "With the pot and the water and everything."
"Well, all right. I suppose I could stay for a little while," Anya said. Willow closed the door and led Anya into the kitchen, getting her seated before bustling around making the tea.
"Did Xander, umm...did he say anything about last night?"
"Which part of last night? There were lots of happenings last night."
"Well, any of it," Willow said slowly, her mind turning over the events of last night.
"He said Tara had to stay with us, because she was going to leave Sunnydale, even though she agreed to help with the wedding," Anya said. "Which means she must have been really upset, because Tara isn't the kind to make a promise and not follow through. I know that kind. I used to punish that kind."
"Umm...yeah," Willow agreed, unsure of how to respond to that. "But she's staying in Sunnydale, right? Xander said he talked her into staying."
"Yes, Xander said he and Tara bonded, but not in a sex way, because Tara is gay, too. Anyway, he said they bonded, and that Tara wasn't going to go live with her abusive family again. She's going to stay with Buffy. They talked about it last night."
Willow's brow furrowed. Abusive? They were mean, and they didn't appreciate Tara, but abusive? No, Anya had to mean emotionally, and for that alone, Willow could happily turn them all into toads.
"...and I'd turned them all into toads, if I were still a Vengeance Demon," Anya was saying, as Willow realized she had tuned out of the conversation.
"Who? Tara's family?"
"No, Xander's parents," Anya said, frowning. "Haven't you been listening?"
"Oh, sure... I just got mixed up," Willow said apologetically.
"That's okay. Xander said you were really out of it last night. He said he was attacked by a demon, which makes me feel angry, because I don't like it when Xander is hurt. But he wasn't hurt, because Spike and you fought the demon off. So, thank you. Xander says I need to work harder on thanking people when they do something nice for me. It's polite." She beamed.
"You're welcome, Anya," Willow said. Yes, she and Spike had fought off a demon last night. But if a demon attacked now, with her new resolve to not use magick, what would she do? Would she even have a choice, or would she find herself casting a spell before she'd even thought about it? The idea chilled her.
"Well, I must go open the shop now. We should have paying customers soon, and I don't want anyone with money to find the shop closed," Anya said, standing up. Willow stood as well and walked Anya to the door. "Thank you for the tea. Oh, and there's a Scooby meeting tonight. We're meeting at the shop, so we can do research."
"You're welcome, and I'll see you at the meeting," Willow said, and then Anya was gone, and Willow was in a big empty house all alone, at a loss as to what to do now.
Impulsively, she opened the hall closet, her fingers folding around her coat. She tugged it on and grabbed her keys, leaving the house and stepping out into the cool morning. A walk would help. A walk would keep her busy, and if she went somewhere with lots of people, she couldn't just throw magick around. She'd have to be careful, and in being careful, maybe, just maybe, she'd get through this week.
Tara was tired. So much had happened in the last 24 hours, and she wasn't sure if she could really absorb all of it. Dawn was sleeping again, tucked safely in her bed after protesting through her yawns that she wasn't at all tired. Buffy, too, was sleeping, the stress knocking her out.
But Tara was too tired to sleep. Or maybe it was that her mind was too busy to let her rest. She kept turning over the angles, looking at her actions of the last day, week, year. Should she have done anything differently? And why was she second-guessing herself to begin with?
Sighing, she gazed out the kitchen window. The sun was up, the morning's dreariness having burned off, leaving a cool but clear day behind. Tara wished her doubts and questions could leave as easily. She wished the light and heat of the sun could just drive them away, so she could get some rest.
Even still, underneath the questions and doubts was a sharp ache that likely wouldn't let her sleep anyway. It gnawed at her, reminding her with each breath that she had turned away from the only person she had ever loved. It told her over and over that the one person she had trusted above all others had betrayed that trust, and that she may never know the breadth of that betrayal, because she could never be sure she remembered everything.
She wanted to just forgive. It was so tempting to go find Willow, hold her close, and tell her everything would be all right. But she'd be lying, and she loved Willow too much to lie to her. Nothing would be all right until Willow fully realized how wrong she had been, and how much she had hurt her.
Tara slipped out the back door, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth as she looked out at the day. Everyone was going about their business, unaware of how close the world had come to ending just months before. They were all so blissfully unaware, and Tara envied that. She envied the innocence and naivete that allowed them to go about their lives and not see the demons that lurked around every corner.
But she hadn't been like that for a very long time. She had been aware of the demons since she was a very small girl, and yet the fears she had living in Sunnydale were nothing compared to the fear that she, herself, was a demon. Maybe it was a bizarre way of looking at things, but nothing compared to how she felt when she thought she was the one who would do the hurting.
Now, however, she was the one who was hurt. With a rueful half-smile, she sent a silent thanks to Xander for talking her out of returning home. In the clear light of morning, she realized she didn't belong there. No matter how bad she felt about leaving Willow and hurting her, she couldn't give in to the small part of herself that felt she deserved to return to whatever punishments her father and brother could devise. Xander had been right: she needed to hang on to the woman she had become thanks to Willow, and not let this break-up destroy her. Though it would be so easy to just give in, wasn't that one of the things she was angry with Willow for? Taking the easy way out?
Tara sat on the steps, her elbows on her knees and her hands loosely clasped. She let her eyes drift shut as she lifted her face to the sun, breathing deep of the clear air. No, she couldn't take the easy way out. She would prove to herself that she had deserved Willow's love in the first place, and that she hadn't deserved her betrayal. She would stay in Sunnydale and get a degree, and who knew where she'd go from there? But she would have options - options she wouldn't have had if she had just wrapped herself around her pain and returned to her family.
More importantly, here in Sunnydale she had hope. She had the hope that Willow would be willing and able to give up the magick. There was no hope with her father and brother; there was only an endless day of chores and the consequences she faced for any "evil" behavior.
Flashes of her dream from that morning played across her mind's eye, and she shivered. There was something so very strange and sinister about that dream, but she didn't really understand it. She supposed it was her subconscious telling her she had to leave Willow until Willow wanted her more than the magick, but that seemed too obvious and too pat to her. Besides, there was some strange... flavor to the dream.
Her grandmother, she knew, had been gifted with dreams that were more visions, though her mother had not. Had she herself inherited that gift? Did this dream mean something more... something deeper?
Shaking her head, she stood, walking back into the warm kitchen and out of the cold day. If she thought too hard about it, the answer wouldn't come. Perhaps she would meditate later, or do some gardening and let her mind clear. Maybe the answer would come then.
A sleepy and tousled teenager wandered into the kitchen, yawning hugely.
"You should really get some more sleep," Tara admonished the young woman.
"I couldn't stay in bed anymore," Dawn replied, leaning against the counter, frowning at the dark circles under Tara's eyes. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" Tara, frankly, looked completely exhausted and worn out.
"Yes, probably," Tara sighed. "But I couldn't sleep," she confided. "What would you like for breakfast? Pancakes? Eggs?"
"You don't have to cook for me," Dawn said quickly. "Why don't you sit down, and I'll just pour myself some cereal. You want any?"
"No, thank you. If you're having the 'loaded with sugary goodness' kind, have some orange juice, too," Tara said, retrieving a glass from the cupboard and placing it on the counter.
Dawn nodded, pouring the cereal and the juice and moving to the table with her breakfast. Tara sat down with her, continuing to gaze out the window.
"You should probably eat something, too," Dawn prodded. "There's plenty of sugary goodness to go around."
A small smile appeared on Tara's face, then disappeared. "I'm really not hungry."
"Okay," Dawn said, her worry growing. It wasn't like Tara to do anything that would 'set a bad example' in front of her, and between that and the break-up, Dawn wasn't sure what to think.
"You sure you don't need to sleep more?" Tara asked suddenly.
"I'm fine," Dawn said. "I'm kinda' tired, but not sleepy tired. I had lots of sleep. I'm more of a 'how about I just sit here and watch TV all day' kind of tired."
"That stuff'll rot your brain," Tara said wryly. Dawn was a real brain, like Willow, and she wasn't honestly afraid watching TV would in any way do any harm, but the idea of Dawn just sitting around and watching TV for an entire day didn't sit well with her anyway. "How about we start your Wicca lessons?"
"Today?" Dawn asked, eyes wide.
"As soon as you finish that cereal. And all the orange juice. And - good God, did that milk turn pink?"
"Yup," Dawn confirmed happily, finishing off the cereal, then downing the orange juice so fast Tara thought she'd choke. Dawn rose, rinsing her dirty dishes under running water before placing them in the dishwasher. "What spell is first?" Dawn asked eagerly.
"No spell is first," Tara said firmly. "And even if there were a spell that was first, we wouldn't do it now. Your energy is still down."
"Then what are we going to do?" Dawn asked.
"Garden," Tara said with a smile, opening a drawer and pulling out a small trowel. "Grab a jacket - it's cold."
"Garden?" Dawn asked, making a face but dutifully grabbing a jacket before following Tara out to the small herb garden she had started when she moved in.
"Actually, I'll be gardening. You're going to sit and watch."
"I can't even help with the gardening?" Dawn asked incredulously.
"Dawnie," Tara said seriously. "You've taken a great strain. You don't get to do anything but sit, stand, walk within the confines of the house, and lay down for at least the whole weekend."
"But -"
"No buts. Here," Tara said, indicating a patch of grass. "Sit there and watch."
And so the lesson started, Tara carefully tending to her garden, pointing out each plant and their various uses to Dawn. Rather than being boring, as she had expected, Dawn found it all very interesting, asking questions and reciting back information as Tara asked.
"But why even have a garden?" Dawn asked finally as Tara stood up, brushing her dirty hands off and marching back into the house. "Wouldn't it be easier to just buy the stuff you need from the magick shop?"
"Two reasons. First, we're all on a budget. Growing plants is less expensive than buying them. Second, it's better for the magick to grow what you need yourself," Tara explained.
"Why is it better?" Dawn asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Well, all magick has a source," Tara began, trying to explain what she fundamentally understood and couldn't remember ever actually putting into words. "A Wiccan's source is nature. Plants, animals, the four elements... that sort of thing." Tara paused, waiting for Dawn's nod of understanding.
"I'm with you so far," Dawn confirmed.
"Good. Anyway, there are lots of different sources. Demons, angels, your own power, emotions, even the hellmouth could be used as a magickal source. But all of these take a different style of magick."
"Okay, so since the Wicca force is nature, growing your own nature is better?" Dawn guessed.
"Right, but there's a little more," Tara said, smiling. "There are two ways to use a magickal source. You can ask, or you can command. Both have their dangers, though asking is better. The only danger in that is that your source will say no, and the spell won't work. If you try to command, though, and what you're commanding is more powerful than you are, things can go very wrong."
"Like what I did last night?" Dawn asked quietly.
"Dawn, you're fifteen. I don't expect you to always make the right choice. I do, however, expect you to learn from your mistakes," Tara said slowly, her tone warm and reassuring.
"Okay," Dawn said after a moment, smiling. "So you were talking about asking and commanding the different sources?"
"Right," Tara said, going back into the lesson. "A Wiccans magick is based on respectfully asking nature to lend their power to spells. Actually nurturing and helping the plants grow and thrive shows your respect and caring for nature, and so they're more likely to help you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I do," Dawn said smiling, then letting out a yawn.
"I know you're a big girl, but you might want to consider taking a nap," Tara said fondly.
Dawn nodded, walking to the stairs. "Yeah, I think I will. All that plant talk wore me out."
Tara watched Dawn go, tucking her hands into the pockets of her sweater, her fingers meeting cool metal. Frowning, she pulled the chain out of her pocket, her eyes falling on the doll's eye crystal she had forgotten in the craziness the night before.
Holding the crystal by the chain, she raised it to her eyes, studying it intently. She lifted her other hand, tracing the smooth surface with the tip of her finger, then flinched as a strange sensation jolted through her the moment her skin touched it.
Memories and thoughts clicked into place, orderly and clear. New questions arose, but so many important ones were answered as pieces of the puzzle slid together to show her a clear picture. She remembered everything, now - she remembered everything Willow had made her forget, and a feeling of relief surged within her as she realized that it was nothing she didn't already know. Willow hadn't cast the spell on her before Halloween. Her shadowy fears of other forgotten events evaporated, and her heart felt just a little bit lighter.
She knew the doll's eye crystal brought clarity to those who were questioning, but she had never experienced such a sharp and sudden burst of awareness before. Perhaps Willow's spell had just confused and hidden the memories, instead of taken them away completely.
But more importantly, a new burning question had arisen from the moment of clarity. When Willow had turned to dark magicks, what was her source?
Anya beamed at the departing old woman. Her garish clothes and large cane made her a decidedly odd figure, but Anya didn't care. She had just bought a load of books, a few crystals, and some chalk. Anya did a little jig, carefully waiting until she heard the bell signaling the woman's departure before doing so. It would be unprofessional to dance in front of a paying customer.
"S-sorry," she heard, looking up to see Tara holding the door for the woman.
"Quite alright," the woman said kindly, her brown eyes twinkling up at Tara as she hefted her packages and walked out of the store.
"Hello, Tara," Anya said, smiling at the other woman. "Have you come to purchase something?" she asked hopefully.
"No, I wanted to do some research," Tara said, moving to the bookshelves and looking over them. "I've been through all my reference material. I needed some new sources," she said absently, her finger tracing the spines of the books as she looked over, then dismissed them.
"The Scooby meeting isn't until later," Anya pointed out. "Do you even know what the demon looks like? Xander didn't really give a description."
"I'm looking up something else," Tara muttered, moving to the next shelf.
"Maybe I can help?" Anya offered, continuing on at Tara's questioning glance. "I mean, I do own the shop, and being a one-thousand year old ex-vengeance demon, I do have quite a bit of mystical knowledge."
"You had a Source, right?" Tara asked finally, her face pulled into a frown. Maybe Anya would be able to help with this, though she was reluctant to involve any of the other Scoobies until she had found out more. Something was nagging at her, in the back of her mind, but the pieces weren't quite falling into place.
"A source?" Anya asked, a confused expression on her face. Then, her features cleared. "Oh, a Source! Big 'S'. Right. Yes, I had a mystical source that held all of my powers and the very essence of my demon-ness," she confirmed matter-of-factly.
"I'm doing some research on Sources," Tara said.
"What for?" Anya inquired, moving to a set of shelves across the shop.
"I-it's for Dawn. I'm teaching her some W-Wicca," Tara said, the half-truth making her decidedly nervous. But how could she explain this weird feeling of foreboding ever since the question had entered her mind? How could she explain the fear that had crawled up her spine when she had begun to wonder about Willow's source.
"Well, then you'll want the nature stuff," Anya said, pulling a few thin volumes from the shelf.
"Actually, I want to see all of it," Tara said firmly.
"All of it?" Anya asked. "Tara, there are some very dark and dangerous sources," Anya admonished. "I certainly wouldn't mess with them, now that I am completely human and a productive member of society."
"Yes, I know," Tara said quickly. "I-I just w-want to make sure that Dawn understands all the dangers, so she can be careful."
Anya looked skeptical, but held her peace for once, and Tara was irrationally grateful she didn't have to explain further.
"All right, so what are we looking for, exactly? There's Demons, Internal Power, Magical Talismans and the like, the Hellmouth itself..." Anya said questioningly.
"All of it," Tara repeated, a determined look crossing her features. She had to know - she had to fully understand exactly what Willow had done while she had been trapped inside her own mind. There was a sense of urgency about the whole thing that disturbed her, like something dark and dangerous was about to happen. But the only thing dark and dangerous seemed to be Willow herself, when she had taken on Glory with her magicks.
But she wasn't afraid of Willow, was she?
Anya continued pulling books off the shelves, piling them high in her arms, too busy to notice the worried frown on Tara's face.
No, not afraid of Willow. Willow wouldn't ever hurt any of the Scoobies - well, not on purpose. She showed bad judgement at times, but she wasn't evil or even mean, really. She was just... Tara really wasn't sure what, but something inside her told her she had to find out.
"Okay. These books are either completely about Sources, or have sections devoted to them," Anya said, piling the books onto the table.
Tara looked at the stack of books with wide eyes.
"I told you there were lots of them," Anya said, her voice slightly scolding, as if admonishing Tara for not taking her words seriously.
"Yes, yes you did," Tara agreed ruefully, sitting herself down and pulling the book on top of the stack towards her. She opened it up and began to read.
After several hours, she had skimmed through most of the books, but her eyes ache, the words swam before her eyes, and she had a massive crick in her neck. All she really wanted to do was to have Willow there to rub the pain away. Of course, if Willow were there, she wouldn't have to do this. She could just ask her.
Could she? Something about the idea seemed wrong, now that she really thought about it. No, confronting Willow was a bad idea. She wasn't sure what she was dealing with, and all the information she had just found worried her greatly. She had several books set aside and bookmarked, so she could read them thoroughly later, but right now she was just gathering, and even that little bit of knowledge she had gained had been enough to make her stomach turn.
Dark Sources were insidious things. They could not be asked without demanding a great price, and they could not be commanded except by those of exceptional power. Even then, they often lent their aid without needing to, letting the spellcaster believe they had powers greater than they actually possessed.
But why was she so fascinated with this topic? Was she looking for an excuse to blame someone or something other than Willow for her behavior?
Probably. Tara let out a mirthless laugh, letting her head drop down onto the book open before her. The truth was, she wanted to forgive Willow. She wanted this whole thing to be some Big Bad that the Scoobies could go beat up, so that Willow would be back at her side where she belonged.
Her reading told her this was a false hope, though. In stark black and white - and sometimes a disturbing rust on aging yellow - the words had been there. A Source didn't take over a spellcaster; it could only push the spellcaster into positions and situations where their own pride and folly would tear them down. No matter how she looked at it, she couldn't deny that Willow's choices were her own, and it was those choices that had driven her away.
Still, what if Willow were being manipulated by something? What if she was in danger? What if Willow, herself, were a danger? These books had story after story detailing the folly of dealing with these Dark Sources: stories in which the spellcaster were either destroyed in some blazing gory end, or had unwittingly unleashed unspeakable horrors into the world.
It would give any sane person nightmares, and Tara was not only sane, but deeply and madly in love with someone who might be within the grip of one of these Sources.
Did Willow know? Had she invited something in, then been unable to shut the door? Or had she just figured that these dark spells were just spells that people were afraid to use? That the spells in and of themselves were harmless, and it was how and why they were cast that counted?
"You're looking for Willow's Source, aren't you?" Anya asked quietly from behind Tara, causing her to sit up abruptly.
"W-why do you ask?"
"Because you were stuttering when you came in, you're as white as a sheet, and you look like your puppy died," Anya said quickly. "I notice these things. You can't be a vengeance demon for a millennium without learning how to notice these things."
"It's scary reading," Tara said defensively.
"And," Anya went on, ignoring Tara's feeble attempt to sidetrack her, "it's no secret that Willow's gone all loopy on the magick. Casting spells on her friends, tapping into Dark Magicks - she's probably standing on a street corner right now with a cardboard sign that says 'will work for spell ingredients.'" Anya gave an emphatic nod, pleased with her powers of deduction. "Besides, you were stuttering, and you don't do that anymore unless something is really wrong," Anya pointed out.
"A street corner?" Tara asked, worry coloring her tone.
"Oh, I doubt it's really that far, yet," Anya reassured her earnestly. "But that's where she's headed, and where she'll end up if she doesn't stop. I've seen it happen. Good, responsible people, get a little taste of power, and then off they go, bending reality to their will, whether it's a good idea or not."
"She wouldn't -"
"Wouldn't what? Use magick to change things to suit her?"
"So you think she's being held by a Dark Source?" Tara asked quietly, confirming Anya's suspicions about why, exactly, Tara had come into The Magic Box today.
"I don't know, exactly," Anya hedged. "She certainly could be. Her judgement isn't always great, but it's usually not this bad, right?"
"But a Dark Source wouldn't be able to control her actions, right?" Tara asked.
"No, it wouldn't. But it would open up new options when she was faced with different choices, like if she was deciding between wearing the jeans or slacks, it would put a pair of black leather pants in her closet."
Tara blinked slowly. What did Willow wearing black leather pants have to do with anything? Come to think of it, Willow was dressing differently. Tara shook her head. There was no way Anya meant that literally.
"You didn't mean that literally, right?"
"Of course not. It's just a metaphorical example. Willow would never have a pair of black leather pants in her closet, not on her own, but if they were already there, she might choose to wear them. You see?"
"Okay, like, she wouldn't ever seek out the power and knowledge to cast a big forget spell on everyone, but if they were already there, she'd use it. Right?"
"Exactly. So if Willow would just stop wearing the leather pants that mysteriously appeared in her closet, she'd be fine."
Tara sighed. It still came down to Willow and Willow's choices. No matter the source of the black leather pants, Willow chose to wear them.
Sheer lack of sleep and a brain that felt like it was swimming in cheese caught up with Tara, and she smirked, then giggled. Willow. Black leather pants.
"What's so funny?" Anya asked, a suspicious look on her face.
A blush crept across Tara's features as she giggled harder.
"Are you laughing at me? Do I have something on my face?"
Tara just kept laughing while Anya ran off to check.
The sun set, the dying light filtering through the clouds, leaving the world bathed equally in light and shadow. Willow stared listlessly. Tomorrow. She'd start tomorrow.
She hadn't meant to continue casting; she had just meant to take a walk so she could get out of the house. But things had happened - little things. Inconsequential things. The door to a book shop had been stubborn, she found she had left her money at home when she had tried to buy lunch. There were those bullies picking on the younger boy. She hadn't done anything mean to them - she'd only scared them a little, and she doubted they'd be so quick to pick on smaller people again.
Willow sniffed, her eyes filling with moisture as she stared into the light, wishing it would stay. The wooden slats in the bench dug into her body, cold and hard as she sat in the park, staring out over the water.
She turned her head, her eyes finding the bridge where Tara had sung to her, just a few days before. Was that all it was? Just days? It seemed so much longer, like years or decades. Eons. Empires rose and fall, whole species succumbed to extinction and still Tara was not at her side.
Taking a deep shuddering breath, Willow looked back to the water. Water was so simple, really. Easy. Elegant. Hydrogen and oxygen combined to make something so very pretty and sparkly and necessary. Then again, oxygen was always necessary. The hydrogen was just extra.
Chemistry was so easy. Different elements interacted in specific ways. Predictable. Observable. She had made magick like that, in her mind. A new science, unexplored and waiting for the right person to come along and unravel its mysteries, bringing sense and order to its mystic obscurity.
Tara had never liked that. It was a fundamental difference in the way they viewed the world, and Willow couldn't help but wonder which of them was right. So many wonderful vital things had come from science, so how could applying scientific method to magick be any different? With each new discovery, hadn't she done some good? Hadn't she made life better and easier for everyone?
"God, I am a nerd," Willow muttered, leaning forward, her elbows resting on her knees. She brought her hands up to rub her face vigorously, then looked up, sighing heavily. A cool wind blew across her from over the water, ruffling her hair and making her shiver.
A scream rent the stillness of the night, and Willow was up and running before the sound had registered. The Scooby Reflex, they had jokingly called it. Most people ran away from the sound of trouble, especially in Sunnydale, but not the Scoobies.
The running felt good, somehow. The generally ickiness of the day and her disgust with herself over her inability to stop using magick drained out of her as she sprinted across the dewy grass toward an area sprinkled with trees.
The shadows seemed deeper there, but Willow plunged in headlong, pulling up short as another scream assaulted her ears. A young woman was sprawled on the ground, a gash on her arm bleeding unhindered. Standing over her was the demon, it's green and black mottled skin seeming to pull in the light.
Its head, long and misshapen turned towards her, its yellow eyes looking her up and down.
"Hey, Mr. Ugly Guy," Willow said weakly, giving a little wave as the woman scrambled away from the demon, scuttling backwards until she was a good ways away before standing and running, clutching her arm.
A low guttural noise issued forth from the creatures throat, its awkward jaw moving.
"That's a whole lot of sharp teethy badness," Willow said slowly, backing away. "Can you even close your mouth all the way?"
"Cast or die."
"What?" Willow asked, jumping at the sound of the voice, deep and rumbling. In answer, the shadows moved, rushing forward and into her, filling her eyes with darkness.
"Cast or die," came the voice again, as the demon took a step towards her.
The rush of power that came with the darkness thrilled her. She had been playing child's games all day, she realized. Nothing compared to the energy generated by darkness. Nothing compared to this power that had just come to her, without being called, begging her to release it - and she wanted to, because it felt so very good.
Standing tall and strong, Willow glared at the demon, the familiar tingling rising in her eyes and hands. Palms facing forward, she rose an inch, then two into the air. With a shout, she released the darkness into the demon, and it stopped, its head flopping back on its tall slender neck as it howled.
Willow floated forward, unleashing the power upon the demon as its body jerked and writhed in the shadows. It fell forward onto its knees, still screaming into the night when Willow collapsed, the last of the harnessed power draining out of her.
A strange euphoria washed over Willow, and she was unaware of the bumps and bruises she received falling as the demon shifted towards her, leaning over her, its burning breath washing over her face.
"What are you?" Willow whispered, raising her hand and feeling the creatures skin, running her fingertips on its cheek. "Show me," she commanded, a flare of energy, blinding white, flashing between them.
Its eyes widened as it let out a demony gasp. Willow giggled ridiculously, assuming she was about to meet her end when she looked into its eyes. The yellow light there spread and grew, enveloping her, and then she was falling again - falling into the demon's eyes.
She stood on a hill, within a circle of stones within a circle of trees. A village lay below, the simple church burning. Power surged within her, but different and strange. Strong, but peaceful, it felt nothing like the raw edginess she was used to. Her hands raised into the air, the wide sleeves of her white linen robes feeling rough against her skin as they fell to pool at her shoulders.
A stream of words left her mouth, but she did not know them, and a great wind rose, blowing her wild red hair all around her. Willow felt somehow apart from the proceedings, her mind telling her the hair was the wrong color, even as she continued speaking. It was darker, more auburn than her own hair, and a tangled mass of curls. She tried to capture a few strands in her fingertips to examine more closely, but her body refused to obey her commands.
A great thunder rose, lightning striking all around, and the earth shook. She could hear the cries of villagers from below as she somehow managed to remain upright, still chanting in a strange lyrical language, the odd accent tickling her ears.
Several figures ran up the hill, heading towards her, and her words came faster, more urgent. A rift in the earth tore open, and she fell to her knees, looking into the abyss through a strange shimmering yellow energy.
A face stared back, a shadowy figure standing there.
The man spoke, his words hanging heavy in the air. Willow felt her resolve weaken as the power within her began to dwindle. The man spoke again, urging her to do...something, and she redoubled her efforts, continuing her chant.
A misshapen figure arrived at the circle, crashing into the seemingly empty space between the stones in a blaze of white light, knocking it back. It regained its feet as a second figure arrived.
The second figure fought the other, trying to run back down the hill as it held on. In a flash of lightning, Willow recognized them. The demon she had fought stepped forward, its glistening claws raking across Angel's face.
Angel?
What was she doing? Why was she here?
The man spoke again, his hands raising and pushing at the energy, before screaming and taking his fists to it.
Willow's chant rose, her raw throat straining to form the words. Angel broke away from his tormentors, fleeing back down to the village as the demon turned back to the circle, and stalking around it, snarling and growling.
Desperation filled her, and the shimmering rift began to close. The demon and the man howled together, as Willow looked into the opening. Her reflection in the yellow energy superimposed itself over the face of the man as he was pulled back, and the last thing she saw was a pair of strangely familiar blue eyes before all went dark.
With a gasp, Willow came back to herself, the clammy feel of sweat all over her body. The demon over her snarled and raised its hand.
"Go away," Willow said crossly, completely disoriented. She pushed the demon with all her might, and it rose up, then turned and ran.
Shaking, Willow looked around, rolling over with great effort and getting onto her hands and knees. "That was... that was...what was that?" she mumbled. "Demony weirdness," she decided. She tried to stand, and her head swam, knocking her heavily back. "Okay, bad idea," she told herself softly. "I am so not loving this."
She raised a trembling hand to rub her face, inadvertently smearing the blood from her nose there. Fear rose up and threatened to choke her as she broke into sobs. Near-death was a pretty common experience for a Scooby, but this was different. Something was different about all of this, and she didn't just mean the vision or projection or whatever it was.
The demon had obeyed her. Since when did demons obey her? Her pragmatic side told her it was certainly useful - she could just tell demons to hold still while Buffy staked them - but the rest of her cowered away from the knowledge. What had she done? Had she unleashed a new demon into Sunnydale?
"I'm going crazy," Willow sobbed, rolling onto her side and pulling her knees up to her chest. Nothing she had ever read or experienced had prepared her for the strange vision she had seen. Had she been summoning another demon? Had Angel been trying to stop her? "What's happening to me?"
A strange numbness settled over her, as her labored breathing eased. Her sobs subsided, and on rubbery legs, she gained her feet, swaying unsteadily. On uncertain footing, she began walking, her thoughts far away from paying attention to where she was heading.
Images - memories - assaulted her. Tara, telling her she was using too much magick. Xander stopping her from casting a magick de-lusting. Giles' warning that if she channeled powerful magicks, she might not be able to close the door again. Tara again, looking so sad and lost, her aching voice telling her she didn't think it was going to work. Tara leaving.
Willow hurt all over, inside and out, as she staggered through the night. She felt weak and unsure, like she was in high school again, fighting monsters with nothing but her brain.
Mostly, she felt scared. Living on the Hellmouth - being a Scooby - had desensitized her to most of the horrors of the world. She couldn't really remember the last time she had been this frightened for herself - frightened for others, yes, but not herself. She had been so confident for so long, and now that confidence was shattered by her inability to defeat a demon with her most powerful magicks.
"But wait, there's more!" she said out loud, letting out a humorless laugh. She couldn't defeat the magick, either. It called to her, and she had answered, letting it take over. And then, the vision and subsequent wackiness had shaken her deeply. What did she think she was doing?
She turned a corner, realizing she was back on the streets of Sunnydale, and it was night. Her legs felt like lead, her head ached, her nose was dripping blood, and she felt battered and bruised all over.
She really might as well just tattoo "Dinner" to her forehead and run through the graveyard, she thought ruefully, trying to think about something else - anything else - but the pain as she struggled to continue putting one foot in front of the other.
She needed help. She was supposed to be the strong one, the capable one, the reliable one, the smart one - but she needed help.
"I can't do this alone," she whispered brokenly. She shook her head, a part of her marveling at how fragmented she felt. Even at her nerdy high school worst, her thoughts had always felt clear, even though they tended to issue forth in an incoherent babble; they had always made sense in her head. Her mind felt foggy and unsure, and she wasn't used to that.
Finally, The Magic Box loomed before her, and she stopped, the street separating her from what she knew would be a Scooby meeting by now. The lights were clearly on, though the shop would be closed at this hour. She paused in the shadows across the street, staring with watery eyes.
How could she walk in there like this? Dirty, bruised, bloody, her clothing torn - how could she face her friends? It was all her fault, and she knew it. They knew it. She knew they knew it. They knew that she knew that they knew it.
Willow shook her head before her brain continued along that path. Would Tara be in there? Would Dawn? How could she just walk in? She had pulled Buffy out of Heaven, made Tara leave her, left dangerous magic book lying out around Dawn, and now there was a demon running around that did what she told it to do.
But how could she not walk in?
With faltering steps, she crossed the street, stumbling and staggering the whole way. Her hand came to rest on the smooth wood of the door, trailing down to grope for the knob. A lump rose up in her throat as the knob turned and she pushed the door open, the bell sounding unnaturally loud.
She stepped in, and saw everyone there, staring at her.
"I need help," she croaked out, before the world swam before her eyes, then went dark.
Tara shivered and slammed her book shut. This Dark Source thing just got more and more disturbing. The stories and examples were eerily detailed and graphic in their description, which she supposed was a good thing, because it would discourage people from using a Dark Source - but still. Yuck.
Somehow, it helped that Anya was so offhand and matter-of-fact about the whole thing. She knew it came from a one-thousand year stint as a vengeance demon where she herself had committed horrible acts, but she always saw Anya as just a really quirky human, and so her ease of acceptance was almost... comforting.
"It says here that most witches burned in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were dabbling with Dark Sources," Tara pointed out. The words had sent a chill up her spine, which she attributed to Willow's story about almost being burned at the stake before Tara had come to Sunnydale.
"Oh, yes," Anya said, looking up from her own book. "Most, true - but not all. Like this one time, I was summoned up by a perfectly normal Wiccan who was being burned at the stake. She certainly wasn't into any dark magicks at all... seemed to be afraid of them, in fact. But her husband had turned her in, so there I was, and I eviscerated him," she related calmly.
Tara looked dubious. "A white witch called up a Vengeance Demon and had her husband eviscerated?"
"Oh, well, I sort of improvised on the evisceration part. And she didn't call me. I just happened to see the betrayal, so I showed up, and she wished that her husband wouldn't hurt her daughter anymore. I came up with the evisceration all by myself," she explained, her voice strangely proud.
A strange buzzing went off in Tara's head, as if a swarm of bees had flown in her ears and were making honey where her brain should be. Only not in a painful way. More in a loud, but ticklish kind of way.
She shook her head to clear it, then looked up at Anya.
"H-her daughter?" she asked slowly.
Xander walked into the door of The Magic Box, smirking at the name as he did every time he entered. Didn't people think of these things before they went around naming stores and putting up big signs?
Tara and Anya, he saw, were sitting at the table, piles of books scattered around.
"Hey, getting a jump on the Scooby meeting?" he asked cheerfully, pulling up a seat next to Anya and dropping a light kiss on her cheek.
"Xander! We were just researching -" Anya began, only to be interrupted.
"I was doing some research for the Wicca lessons I'm giving Dawn," Tara broke in. "Anya was helping." She wasn't sure why, but she didn't really feel comfortable telling everyone she had been researching Willow's source. It almost felt like she was betraying Willow by even looking into it, and she had scared herself senseless with the information she'd found. No reason to bring the rest of the Scoobies into it.
"Well, that was very nice of you, Anya," Xander said, rewarding her with a bright smile. Anya beamed back.
"Yes, I'm very nice and helpful. Even though Tara isn't giving me any money, I helped anyway, because she's our friend."
"And thank you, Anya," Tara said, smiling at the ex-demon. Her take on social niceties was so... interesting. "I really appreciate all your help."
"You're welcome. That's what friends are for." Anya stood up, checking the time, and moved over to the door, putting up the 'Closed' sign. Nodding in satisfaction at another money-filled day, she went behind the counter to close up the till and do the paperwork. The till opened, and she breathed deeply, letting the scent of the money wash over her.
"So, no one else here yet?" Xander asked, picking up a book at random and idly flipping through it.
"No, I was here early because of this research I wanted to do," Tara explained. She stood, gathering up the books she had determined didn't really hold anything she didn't already know and started placing them back on the shelves. "So, do we know anything about this demon thing?"
"Just that it's big, it's ugly, and it seemed to like magic," Xander said. "I guess I'll start pulling up the books on our usual suspects," he offered, moving to the back room where all their demon and monster lore was kept in one handy location.
The bell over the door rang again, and Buffy entered, a small smile on her face as she listened to Dawn.
"...and then she told me all about sources and stuff. It was great!" Dawn enthused, grinning broadly.
"Just as long as you didn't overdo it," Buffy said, squeezing Dawn's arm affectionately. "Hey guys," she greeted, plopping down into a chair at the 'Research Table'.
"Tara! Buffy said I get to help with research!" Dawn blurted out, scampering over to Tara and giving her a big hug. Tara smiled broadly, sharing a look with Buffy over Dawn's shoulder. Buffy just shrugged and nodded.
"So, what do we have?" Buffy asked, poking at the pile of books in front of her.
"Oh, that's some other stuff I was doing," Tara said, moving back to the table and moving the books she still had to go through to a different table. Xander came back in, a stack of books in his arms.
"Hey, Buff," he greeted. "Dawn."
"I think Willow was right. I made just as much money as I should have, but still opened the store later, saving money on labor and utilities," Anya cheerfully informed them, closing the till with a loud ching.
An uncomfortable silence fell as everyone shifted nervously and avoided looking at Tara. Tara's grin faltered, but she redoubled, forcing the happy expression to stay on her face.
"It's okay," she said quickly. "W-when did you talk to Willow?" she asked, looking at Anya and wondering why she hadn't mentioned this earlier that day.
"Oh, this morning. Xander asked me to stop by and see how she was, and to tell her about the Scooby meeting," Anya said. "She seemed a little pale and shaky, but she said she'd be here."
"Maybe I should go," Tara said, already rising and gathering up the books she had found that day into her arms. "Oh, umm...can I borrow these?" she asked belatedly, a sheepish look on her face.
"Oh, sure, you go right ahead," Anya said. Normally, letting merchandise leave the shop without a monetary transaction of some kind was something she hated and considered theft in all cases, but something about the day of researching with Tara had given her a sense of camaraderie she didn't normally have with the Scoobies. Maybe it was because she, like Anya herself, had started out as just a Scooby girlfriend. Maybe it was because Anya was an ex-demon, and Tara was an ex-thought-she-was-a-demon. Or maybe it was just that Tara had been so interested in her unique insight on the matter. Anya appreciated being appreciated.
"But - you can't leave," Dawn protested, standing up and wrapping her hands around Tara's arm, tugging gently. "There's a big demon out there, and we don't know what it is, or what it wants, and maybe it likes witches, so it would be really dangerous for you to walk around by yourself."
"Good God, it's Willow Junior," Xander muttered under his breath. He wondered if all really smart girls babbled like that, or if it was a learned behavior.
"Actually, Dawn has a point," Buffy said, standing up and leveling a no-nonsense stare at Tara. "I'd feel better if we all just... stayed here and did the research thing, then went home in groups."
"But what about Willow? Do you really think it's dangerous?" Tara asked suddenly. "Maybe we should - "
"I'm sure she's on her way here. Just give her ten minutes or so, and then we'll go look for her," Xander said.
"Any news on our new Big Ugly?" Spike asked, sauntering into the room.
"Don't you ever knock?" Xander asked, jumping in his chair as Spike came into the store from the back rooms.
"Well, aren't we the jumpy little lad?" Spike taunted around his smirk. "Afraid the big demon would just pick the lock on the back door and not bust it in?"
"You picked my lock?" Anya asked incredulously. "When else have you picked my lock? Have you been taking things?" Anya advanced on the vampire, mayhem in her eyes.
"Calm down, calm down," Spike said, holding his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. "I was just keeping the old skills from rusting. Haven't nicked a bloody thing."
Tara glanced at the clock. Only a few minutes had gone by, but a sense of something wrong was crawling up her neck, periodically stopping to do a little tap dance on her spine. It was disturbing. "Maybe - maybe we should go check on Willow," Tara said, moving to the door, her fingers finding the doll's eye crystal sitting in her pocket.
Buffy stood, moving after Tara. If Tara felt something was wrong, Buffy would believe her, but she didn't want the witch wandering off alone, and she'd rather be armed if they were going out. "Hold on, Tara," Buffy said, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. Tara lost her balance, throwing her hands out to stop her fall, the crystal skittering across the floor.
Anya picked it up as Dawn came up beside her. Both of their eyes widened. Anya lifted the crystal to her face, peering closer. It looked oddly familiar, like...
She stopped, looking around at the room, her eyes falling on Tara. Tara MaClay. Pieces fell into place, and with a shaky hand, she handed the crystal to Dawn.
"You okay?" Buffy asked, helping a red-faced Tara to her feet. "Just let me grab some weapons," she said, moving to the back room as Anya grabbed Xander, pulling him back behind the counter.
"Here. You dropped this," Dawn said quietly, her hand unsteady as she returned the crystal to Tara.
"What's going on, Anya?" Xander asked, looking closely and seeing a stunned look on her face.
"Keep it down!" Anya said, smacking Xander in the shoulder.
"Ow!" he said, rubbing his arm and scowling. "Would you tell me what's going on?" he asked in a hushed tone.
"I eviscerated Tara's great-great-great-great-and maybe a few more 'greats' grandfather," Anya hissed, a sick look on her face. "Is this that guilt thing you're always talking about?"
"You what?" Xander asked loudly. Anya looked around, seeing Dawn and Tara weren't paying attention, and that Spike was peeking into the back room, presumably watching Buffy.
"That crystal. I've seen it before. I mean, you know I've seen it before, because Willow's worn it, and Dawn used it for that spell, but I mean I've seen it Before before," Anya went on, clearly agitated.
"Slow down, Anya," Xander said soothingly, grasping her arms gently and ducking down a little to meet her eyes. "Was that English, because I didn't really catch most of it."
"I saw it before I was human," Anya ground out. "It didn't even register. I mean, I've eviscerated so many people, it's not like I'm thinking about each one every second of the day. I certainly can't be expected to remember every piece of jewelry I've ever run across, right?" she went on, pausing for breath.
"Okay, when did you see it?" Xander asked slowly.
"I saw it about a hundred and fifty years ago? Two hundred? Something like that. I probably wouldn't have even made the connection, except Tara and I were talking about witch burnings. We were talking about that specific witch burning, in fact, so it was on my mind. Oh, God," Anya said slowly, her mouth dropping open. "Tara's great-something-grandmother got burned at the stake."
"What?" Xander asked, shaking his head. Sometimes he felt the difference between their ages more than others. This was one of those Big Difference times.
"When I was a vengeance demon, I caught wind of this guy who turned his wife in for witchcraft. She was strictly a goody-goody white magick kind of gal, but she got burned at the stake. I showed up during the burning, and she asked me to make sure her husband couldn't hurt her daughter anymore, so I eviscerated him. But I saw the daughter there, and she was wearing that crystal," Anya explained in a rush.
"Well, maybe it was a different crystal?" Xander offered. "I mean, there has to be more than one crystal like that, right?"
"No, it has to be the one. The girl's name was MaClay. Fionna MaClay," Anya said. "I never made the connection. I never knew," she went on in a whisper.
Xander pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin. "Hey, it'll be okay," he said, unsure as to exactly what to say to this revelation.
"I mean, how do you tell someone you eviscerated a member of her family, and saw one of them burning? Do they make a Hallmark card for this?" Anya wondered aloud, cuddling into Xander. "Tara and I bonded today over magick stuff," she went on.
"You and Tara did spells?" Xander asked, pulling back and looking at Anya as if he'd never seen her before.
Anya smacked Xander in the arm again, getting a curious satisfaction out of the startled yelp he let out. "I said we bonded over magick, not that we bonded in a prison way."
"Do you think that's where that whole wacky 'You're A Demon' thing started in her family?" Xander asked, trying to wrap his mind around the idea. His future wife actually had been a demon, but he couldn't imagine ever letting anyone hurt her.
"It's possible," Anya said with a sigh. "Maybe her family really thought that. Maybe they honestly believed it. Do you think I should tell her?"
"I don't know," Xander said slowly. "It's not exactly the kind of thing you can just - blurt out." Xander glanced over, seeing Tara, Dawn and Spike sitting at the table, talking quietly and waiting for Buffy. Tara's hands kept moving, and she was kind of fidgety in her seat. "Come on. We'll talk about it more, later," Xander said, tugging on Anya's hand and pulling her over to join the rest of the Scoobies.
Buffy entered the room, a big bag of weapons hanging from her shoulder.
"Gee, Buffy. Do you think you have enough sharp pointy things?" Dawn asked.
"We don't know what we're dealing with, so I'm being prepared girl," Buffy said firmly.
The bell sounded and the door flew open. The Scoobies stopped and looked, to see Willow stumble in the door, her clothes disheveled. Her face was pale and streaked with dirt.
"I need help," she croaked out, before falling heavily to the floor.
Time seemed to slow for Tara as Willow stumbled into the shop. Her simple words "I need help" echoed through her mind and tugged at her heart. As Willow fell, landing with a thud, Tara was on her feet and moving, flying past the Scoobies and to Willow's side. Her fear and concern moved her so quickly, not even the Slayer beat her there.
Her heart tripped in her chest as she cradled Willow's limp body against her, her fingers searching for the pulse point on her neck. She heard someone scream Willow's name.
A heartbeat, and another, and time returned to normal. Tara choked on a sob, relief washing over her. She pulled Willow up closer, one hand gently patting her cheek as Xander and Buffy knelt at their side, anxious looks on their faces.
"Come on, Baby - wake up," Tara urged. "Come on. Let's see those pretty eyes." Dawn, Anya and Spike stood close, but Tara didn't notice, her whole being focused on Willow's face.
After an eternity, Willow's eyes fluttered open, and she sighed an snuggled closer to the safe and warm place in which she found herself as a shaky Tara let her head drop forward, their foreheads resting together.
"Hey, pretty lady," Willow said weakly. "Fancy meeting you here."
Tara laughed shakily as the knot in her stomach eased.
"Can you stand, Will?" Buffy asked, holding her friend's hand and giving it a squeeze.
"Don't wanna'," Willow mumbled.
"She'll be fine, folks," Xander announced, a relieved smile crossing his face.
"Tara?" Willow asked quietly. "I don't feel so good."
"You're gonna' be fine, Will," Buffy broke in, giving Tara a moment to compose herself.
"Yeah," Tara finally agreed. "You'll be all right, Baby."
"Can you tell us what happened?" Buffy asked, squeezing Willow's hand again.
"I - God, I," Willow started, her swallowing audibly a few times.
"Hey, it's okay," Tara said quickly. "You don't have to tell us right now. I bet you're tired, huh?"
Willow nodded, then cleared her throat. "Yeah, but... I need to tell you -"
"Shh," Tara murmured, rocking Willow slowly. "Just take your time, honey."
"Who did this to you, Will. Just tell me who or what, and I'll take care of it," Buffy said, her voice low and intense.
"Me," Willow said, tears welling up in her eyes. "My fault."
"What?" Tara breathed, her brows furrowing. Had Willow managed to hurt herself with magick? Was that why she finally realized she needed help, or had something else happened? Maybe Willow was still unconcerned about the magick, and needed help of a different kind. Tara hoped not, and yet she couldn't quite bring herself to believe this was the turning point she had prayed for.
"I was out at the park, and I heard a scream," Willow went on, her eyes distant and her voice rough. "I ran towards it. Pretty stupid, huh?" she asked, her eyes focusing on Tara.
"No," Tara said, a small smile curving the edge of her lips as she remembered Willow running towards the sound of distress when Tara had been running from the Gentlemen. "It was very brave," she insisted, pressing her lips to Willow's forehead. "That's what cool monster fighters do."
A look of profound love, relief and gratitude crossed Willow's face at Tara's words, and Tara's smile grew. This was the Willow she had fallen in love with - the brave strong woman with the huge heart that demanded she help when others were in need, no matter the consequences.
"Then I found this girl being attacked by that demony guy," Willow went on.
"The same one we saw last night?" Xander asked. Willow nodded, turning to look at her friend.
"Yeah. So then I ran in, and the girl ran away, and I got hurt," she finished quietly. How could she explain about the magick? How could she tell them all in a way that they'd understand that it had just come to her, and that she'd been helpless against its call for release? And the vision - what would they think of that?
"Okay, gang," Buffy said, rising to her feet. "Grab some books, and head over to my place. Get Willow into bed, and get on the research - I want to know what this thing is, where it came from, and how I kill it," she said, her voice intense. "Spike, make sure they get home all right, then meet me at the park."
"Me? Meet you at the park." Spike asked, smirking. "A little moonlight stroll, eh? All right, then."
"No," Buffy said slowly, drawing out the word. "We're going to find this thing."
Buffy grabbed her large back of sharp pointy things and headed out of the shop, leaving the rest of the Scoobies standing around.
"Well, then," Spike said, smiling broadly at the group. "I guess Uncle Spike gets to make sure you kiddies get home safe, then it's playtime."
Dawn moved to the research table, her face pensive. "Are these the books we need?" she asked, pointing at the stack Xander had set on the table earlier.
"Yeah, those are the ones we usually start with," Xander said, hefting the books.
"Anything I can carry?" Dawn asked, looking around hopefully. The events of the evening had shaken her. First, the crystal, that she knew she had taken without permission, and now Willow was hurt and Buffy had taken off to patrol... she needed to feel useful.
"Let's see if there are some more books we might need," Anya said, taking Dawn's hand and heading towards the back of the shop.
Spike knelt next to Tara and the still-groggy Willow. "May I?" he asked, looking at Tara and motioning towards Willow.
Tara nodded, and Spike got his arms under Willow's body, lifting her easily. "Right then, Red. We're going to get you all tucked in, then we'll go find out what this new Bad wants." Tara hovered nearby, and though Spike would have liked some maneuvering room, he didn't complain, not when Tara was so clearly worried about her girl.
"I can walk," Willow protested, her voice barely audible and her eyes drooping. "Been doing it for years."
"Just humor us, okay sweetie?" Tara said, brushing a few strands of hair out of Willow's face.
"Dawn? Anya?" Xander called.
"Got them," Anya said, as she and Dawn walked back in, each carrying several books. Tara looked at them, then remembered her own books, scooping them up from where she had dropped them then hastening back to Willow's side.
"Let's just toddle off then, shall we?" Spike asked, striding towards the door. Xander quickly shifted the books he was carrying, getting the door open and holding it for everyone leaving.
"Is Willow really going to be okay?" Dawn asked, slipping her hand into Tara's as they walked.
"Yeah, she really will," Tara said, nodding firmly. "It's scary though, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it is. I mean, she just kinda' came in and fell, and she's all scratched and stuff," Dawn went on, smiling a little when Tara squeezed her hand.
"I know," Tara said, looking over at Willow, who was trying to stay awake. "I'm scared, too, but it's natural to be scared when someone you love is hurt. We always fear the worst, Dawnie, even when we know it'll be okay. That's human nature. But Willow will be fine. She's just put out a lot of energy, like you did."
"She asked for help. Are you gonna' help her?" Dawn asked, cutting through all the extraneous concerns and jumping to the heart of the matter as only a young person can.
"It - it's not that simple, Dawn. A lot of stuff happened," Tara murmured, looking down at her feet as she walked.
"But you still love her. You said so. And if she asked for help, then we should help her, right?" Dawn pressed.
"I don't know what to do," Tara admitted bleakly, looking over at Willow cradled in Spike's arms as they walked. "I don't know if she can stop, and I - I can't be around her like that."
"She loves you, you know," Spike said softly.
"Yes, I- I know," Tara said, still looking down.
"No, she really truly loves you," he went on. "I know people - been looking at them for forever, seems like," he mused aloud. "Can't really remember the last time I saw two people more truly and deeply in love."
"Then w-why won't she stop?" Tara asked, her eyes watering.
Spike paused, looking over at Tara. "Part of her thinks that the magick is why you love her, you know. I've seen it a million times. If she stops, she thinks she'll lose you anyway, and then she'll just be plain old Willow again without you."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Dawn said, frowning at Spike.
"Of course it is. It's complete and utter poppycock, but it's what she thinks," Spike insisted, walking on. "I know Red. I knew her before the magick, before Oz, before all of that."
"So did I," Xander cut in, glaring at Spike. "And she's not like that. She knows Tara loves her."
"Actually, it makes sense," Anya mused. "I mean, she and Tara got together over the magick thing, right?" Anya continued as they arrived at the Summers home, Dawn opening the door as they all trooped inside. "If she was really such a loser before, and she thinks Tara loves her because of the power, why give up the power, if she's going to lose Tara anyway? Either way - no Tara."
"She was not a loser!" Xander yelled, dropping his books heavily on the table in the living room.
"I'll just take her upstairs then, right?" Spike asked, not waiting for an answer and carrying the girl up the stairs. Tara followed, a pensive look on her face.
The room was quiet when the door shut, and Spike laid Willow gently on the bed. "This is getting to be a habit," he pointed out, stepping back from Willow's sleeping form.
"Thank you, Spike," Tara said, looking gratefully at the vampire.
"It's all right. You all keep me supplied with blood and violence, carrying Red here is the least I can do."
"Do... do you really think she thinks I'm only there for the magick?" Tara asked uncertainly.
"I think on one level she knows that's bollocks, but on the other, she's afraid."
"Of what?" Tara asked, her voice sounding helpless and small. "Have I ever given her a reason to believe that -"
"No, you didn't," Spike said, ducking down to meet Tara's eyes. "Hey. Listen, now. Red's afraid of herself more than anything else. She's afraid she's not good enough - that she won't measure up."
"Measure up to what?" Tara asked, confusion coloring her tone. "All I ever wanted was for her to be Willow. Sweet, brave, smart, babbling Willow."
"Yes, but she's always wanted to be useful. Powerful. You have to realize that she's been fighting the end of the world since she was in high school. She's seen her best friend die twice, and countless others."
"I just don't -"
"Well, enough of this. I really have to get going. Talk to her when she wakes up," Spike said suddenly, uncomfortable with the situation. It was like he was suddenly in the middle of one of his soap operas. The next thing he knew, he was going to start suggesting self-help books. Spike disappeared before Tara could say any more, so she climbed onto the bed and held Willow's hand as she slept.
"Dammit, Spike," Xander ground out when Spike appeared. "You have no right to judge her!" he yelled, grabbing his coat and slamming him into the wall.
"Easy now, pup," Spike growled. "I wasn't judging her - she's judging herself, and you just can't see it."
"She doesn't need your crap right now, and -"
"Fine," Spike said, shrugging out of Xander's hold and going to the door. "Buffy's waiting for me."
The door closed behind him with a dull thud, and the remaining Scoobies looked at each other.
"So, umm...now what?" Dawn asked, eyeing the stack of books in front of her.
Xander sat down with a heavy sigh. "Now, we read."
"We're never going to find it," Anya said casually as she continued reading.
"Yes we are. Because we have to, and that's what we do," Xander said, looking up and frowning at his girlfriend.
"Oh, I know we have to... it's just that we never find anything. We're not the good research people. Giles and Willow are the good research people. They should be helping."
"Well, Giles is in England, and Willow is sleeping," Xander said, pointing out the obvious.
"Giles would have found it by now. Or Willow would have a clue. She'd be taking her little notes in her different colored pens, and she'd have some idea of what was going on. Maybe we should take notes?" Anya said.
"We could, but we haven't found anything worth writing down," Xander said. "Besides, that different colored pen thing is kind of... weird."
"Tara thinks it's cute," Dawn piped up.
"I'm sure she does," Xander said, nodding at Dawn. "But if Willow decided to write all her notes in pig-latin, Tara would think that was cute, too. But I don't suggest we try it."
"Tara thinks bunnies are cute, too. She's got a really twisted sense of cute," Anya pointed out. "Even when I was a demon, I didn't think bunnies were cute."
Xander stood, yawning hugely. "Coffee, Ahn?" he asked, looking over at the ex-demon.
"Sure. If we're going to be here all night instead of going back to the apartment for -"
"Anya!" Xander interrupted, gesturing towards Dawn with his head, his eyes wide.
"...cookies," she said slowly. "If we're not going to go have our cookies, then I might as well have some coffee."
"I'll take some coffee, too," Dawn said, a hopeful look on her face.
"I don't think so, Dawnie," Xander said. "You're a little young to be getting into the heavy caffeine. Pretty soon, you'll start drinking, then smoking, and before you know it, you'll have a nasty heroin addiction."
"Right. And then you'll end up in jail with a large girlfriend," Anya broke in. "Not that there's anything wrong with having a girlfriend, just... not in jail."
"Not helping," Xander said, his lips pressed together in a tight smile as he looked over at Anya. "Besides, Dawnie, it's kind of late, and you should go get some sleep." "You can't send me to bed," Dawn said, going back to her reading. "Besides, I'm helping."
"I can too send you to bed," Xander argued back, taking the book from Dawn and putting it back on the table. "Look, I know you're all adult and whatnot, but you were in the hospital yesterday. So for everyone's peace of mind, just get some sleep, okay?"
"Fine," Dawn said, standing up and stomping to the stairs.
"Willow's sleeping," Xander called after her, and her footsteps immediately quieted.
Tara watched over Willow as she slept, turning her head to the door when she heard footsteps on the stairs. The door creaked open, and Dawn poked her head in, her face worried.
"I just wanted to say good night," she whispered. "Xander and Anya sent me to bed," she went on, her face twisting into a look of righteous indignation. "Are they allowed to send me to bed?"
"Yes, they are," Tara said with an affectionate smile. She looked at the clock on the bedstand. "And they're right. You really should be sleeping."
Dawn's face fell, her hopes of Tara letting her stay up - because Tara certainly outranked Xander and Anya in the "bossing Dawn around" department - dashed. "Well, they're not really getting anywhere with the research thing. Xander doesn't want to quit, though - he's mad this thing hurt Willow, and Anya is just mad that Xander won't go home with her to have -"
"Dawn!" Tara interrupted.
"Uhh... cookies," Dawn finished weakly. "She is going to be all right, right?" Dawn asked, moving to the bed and looking down on Willow.
"Of course," Tara said. "She's strong. She'll be just fine."
"N-no," Willow mumbled, frowning in her sleep, her eyes fluttering. Tara squeezed her hand, brushing her hair back from her face and making soothing shushing noises. "Frogs!" Willow called, her eyes fluttering open.
"Hey... hey," Tara said, as Willow looked around the room wildly. "Frog-free zone here."
"Hi," Willow said, her breathing calming down. "Hey, Dawnie," she said, looking over at the teenager.
"Hey, Willow," Dawn said, moving over to hug her. "I just came in to say goodnight. I'll, uh... leave you two alone," she said, hugging Tara, then leaving the room.
"Good night," Tara said as the door closed. "How are you feeling?" she asked Willow, brushing her hair back from her face.
"Pretty yucky," Willow said. "And everything's kind of jumble-y," she finished, waving a hand near her head.
"You should probably go back to sleep," Tara said, unsure of what else she could say. "And I should probably help with the research."
"They're doing research?" Willow asked, perking up. "Maybe I should come help, too." She would do just about anything to stay with Tara a little longer, right now. There was something so safe about being in her presence.
"Willow," Tara said exasperatedly. "I doubt you could stand up right now. You should sleep."
"But I feel fine," Willow protested weakly.
"Yucky? Jumble-y?" Tara said, squeezing her hand. "Nice try, research girl, but Dr. Tara insists you stay in bed."
"Fine," Willow said, pouting.
"Can you tell me more about what happened?" Tara asked. "You don't have to," she said quickly at the sudden look of fear that crossed Willow's face.
"No, it was just so -" Willow said, unable to find a suitable description.
"It's okay. You're safe now," Tara said.
"No, I'm not," Willow said softly, her eyes growing distant. She wasn't safe, herself, and she wasn't safe to be around. Not now, not with the new demon thing and the magick she couldn't stop. "I had some kind of weird vision-y thing," Willow said slowly, before Tara could comment. "I threw power at it without even meaning to, and then I fell. I felt so weak and kinda' drained," Willow tried to explain. "It leaned over me, looking at me with its big yellow eyes, and I just thought 'this is it - I'm done.'"
Tara's heart clenched at the words, the thought of losing Willow like that stealing her breath. Before she could speak, Willow went on.
"I asked it what it was, or where it came from, or something like that, and then I was somewhere else."
"Somew-where else?" Tara asked, her brow furrowing, her fingers entwining with Willow's, the smooth warm skin and the connection reassuring her that Willow was going to be all right.
"Yeah, like a village or something. On a hill, in a circle of stones. Only it wasn't me - I was in somebody else, and it was like I was just kinda' watching. And the demon thing was there, trying to get into the circle, and Angel was there, fighting the demon. I, umm..." Willow said, her voice catching. "I think I was the bad guy. I think I was summoning something big."
"Angel? W-what else do you remember?" Tara asked, knowing this was important somehow, but wishing she could spare Willow from recounting it.
"A portal kind of thing was opening up, and I was chanting in some language I didn't know. Angel ran away when the demon was winning. My hair was the wrong color, but I guess it wasn't, 'cuz it wasn't really me, huh?" Willow asked, looking anywhere but at Tara. "It was darker, but still red. And the portal was all yellow, and there was a man in there. He was stuck and angry and he wanted out, and I think I was trying to help him."
"But you think he was a bad guy?" Tara asked.
Willow nodded, then frowned, unsure. The magick she had been casting hadn't felt dark. Maybe the guy was just some poor soul trapped somewhere? "Maybe. I don't know. Maybe he was a good guy and I was helping him. Maybe the demon was trying to stop me. My eyes were blue," she said, the inconsequential detail popping into her mind. "Like yours."
"Then what happened?"
"The portal closed up, and then I was back. I didn't want to die," Willow said, her eyes watering. "Not like that. Not when -" she said, her throat closing on the words. Not when Tara was so angry and hurt. She cleared her throat. "I told it to go away, and it did."
"It, umm...it obeyed you?" Tara asked, fear filling her eyes.
"Baby, are you afraid of me?" Willow asked in a small voice, a look of infinite hurt on her face.
"I - I," Tara stammered, looking down.
"No, don't answer that," Willow said, tears welling up and spilling over. "I'm afraid of me right now. I don't know what's happening. I have so many questions, but I'm afraid of the answers."
Tara's face mirrored the miserable look on Willow's, but she said nothing.
"I should go," Willow said suddenly, sitting up and wincing as her body protested.
"Go?" Tara asked incredulously.
"My parents are out of town. I'll be by myself, and that's probably safest," she reasoned.
"But you're hurt," Tara protested, pushing Willow back down.
"Yeah, I am. But at least it's just me right now, and not anybody else."
"Stay tonight," Tara insisted. "Just, go to sleep, and we'll talk in the morning."
Willow nodded, her heart telling her to stay as her mind was telling her to go.
"Get some rest," Tara said, her voice softening. "I'm going to go help with the research."
Willow listened to Tara's footsteps down the stairs, her mind racing. Had she accidentally unleashed something last night? No, she couldn't have. She had run into those vampires, but she hadn't cast anything new. And she would have known if anything had gone wrong. No, she hadn't summoned anything. But why did it obey her? Why did it like her magick? Why had the dark energy come to her, without her call?
Tara walked into the living room, surprised to see Xander and Anya actually researching and not using the alone time for an impromptu make-out session.
"Anything?" she asked, sitting on the couch and grabbing a book.
"Not yet. Coffee?" Xander offered, moving to stand.
"Yes, actually, that'd be nice," Tara said, a grateful smile crossing her features. The last few days had taken a toll, and she was suddenly exhausted, the emotional outpouring of the days catching up with her.
"How is Willow?" Anya asked as Xander left the room.
"She's shaken up. And she's scared," Tara confided, frowning. Her eyes fell on the table, a large pile of pens in different colors lying about haphazardly. Anya picked up a pen and started writing in a notebook.
"What's that?" Tara asked.
"Oh, well, we figured Giles is so good at research because he's British and boring, and Willow's good at research because she takes notes in colors," Anya said, proud of her reasoning. "I didn't think I'd be British or boring anytime soon, so I thought I'd give the pens a try," she finished earnestly.
"Is it helping?" Tara asked, curious as to whether or not anyone but Willow could make sense of multi-colored notes.
"Well, I wrote down the description Xander gave of the demon in red, and the names of any demons that meet all the criteria also in red. Demons that are close are in purple, and demons that have one or two similar characteristics in black. Any reference to a demon enjoying being hit with dark magick gets in blue."
"What do you have so far?" Tara asked, accepting the notebook when Anya simply handed it over. She read over the description, making mental notes so she knew what she was looking for, then looked at the rest of the writing. She stifled a helpless grin as she saw the remainder of Anya's notes.
Little hearts and the occasional "X+A" littered the page. "Nothing yet, huh?" she asked.
"No," Anya sighed. "Willow always makes it look so easy," she complained.
Xander came in, carrying a mug of coffee and setting it in front of Tara.
"Thank you," she said, taking a sip.
"You're welcome. And Willow makes what look easy?" he asked, flopping into his chair and pulling his book back onto his lap.
"Making notes and bizarre connections out of thin air," Anya said petulantly.
"Willow's really smart," Tara said earnestly. "She's book kind of smart."
"And I'm just dumb," Xander said, frowning at the pages and turning the book over. "Cave man kind of dumb."
"I have some knew information," Tara said slowly.
"Oh! I can add it to my notes!" Anya said eagerly, picking up a handful of pens and her notebook.
Tara related Willow's description of the demon, and the details of her vision, winding up her tale in a room full of a heavy silence.
"Wow," Xander finally said. "Do you think that was a real vision? Like that thing was in LA with Angel earlier?" he asked.
"It's more likely it was something that happened in the past," Anya said slowly, her voice thoughtful. "She asked where it came from, or what it was... it was probably the first incarnation of the demon."
"First incarnation?" Tara asked, glad someone had a clue as to what was going on.
"Well, not incarnation, like re-incarnation. Not for demons, anyway. It was the first time that demon was here, and not in Hell," she finished. "At least, that's the likeliest explanation. And Willow probably has a link to that witch, like a past life, or an ancestor or something."
"Past life? How long ago did this happen?" Xander asked, frowning.
"Well, she used the term 'village'," Anya said, looking over at Tara for confirmation. Tara nodded. "That's a pretty old term, which makes me believe it was probably not a modern kind of place. And Angel is two-hundred years old, so it could have been anytime between now and then."
"Are we sure it was really Angel?" Xander asked after a moment. "Maybe Angel was... I dunno, symbolic? Metaphoric? Kinda' a 'not really Angel, but meaning something else' kind of thing? I mean, are we sure this whole vision whatever is right?"
"No, we're not," Tara said, leaning back and sighing.
"It's not a Demon!" Anya said suddenly, leaning forward and shoving books aside. "Where did you put your books, Tara?" she asked, lifting things and shuffling things.
"What books?" Tara asked.
"The ones on Sources," Anya said.
"Oh, umm..." Tara said, moving things around until they found the right stack. Anya grabbed the book she was looking for, flipping through it.
"A-Ha!" she said, finding what she was looking for. "It's not a demon, it's a construct," she said.
"Like... umm...like a golem?" Tara asked, taking the book Anya held out to her.
"Basically. It's something a denizen of Hell makes that isn't really a demon, so it has an easier time crossing over into this realm. When a demon or something can't get here, it can send a construct, which is fueled by it's dark power... hence the Sources reference... and does its bidding here," she said proudly.
"So it just gets sent here?" Tara asked.
"No, it has to be summoned," Anya said, moving to sit next to Tara and pointing out the proper passage.
Tara read the words, her mind reeling. Had Willow summoned this thing? Was that why it obeyed her commands?
"W-wait," Tara said, reading further. "It can get through a standing portal, if the portal is weakened," she pointed out. "A Hellmouth would certainly work."
"Well, how do you kill it?" Xander asked.
"You don't," Anya said. "You send it back."
"How?" Xander asked.
"You either UnSummon it, or you push it back through the weakened portal. You can chop it up into little bits, making it unable to really do anything, but the pieces will try to find each other, and it won't really die," Tara said absently, reading the passage further. "The more powerful the demon, the more powerful the construct," she noted, murmuring out loud.
"Are we sure it was the Hellmouth? I mean, what can weaken a Hellmouth?" he asked.
"There are all sorts of spells that are like... they're like a key," Anya explained. "The Hellmouth is a locked door, and unlocking it means a construct can get through."
"So what sent it? And what unlocked it?" Tara asked, looking up.
"Are we working under the assumption that it's the same construct?" Xander asked.
"Are we sure it wasn't Willow?" Anya asked, silence descending on the room as everyone looked at each other.
"She w-wouldn't," Tara protested, her tone indicating she wasn't really sure of that fact.
"No, not Willow," Xander said firmly. "She wouldn't let a big demony construct thing out."
"Well, not on purpose," Anya conceded. "But she's been playing with dark magicks, and who knows what might have gone wrong?"
"She would have felt it go wrong," Tara said, her confidence growing. "She would have told us if she had a spell go wrong like that."
"Would she?" Xander asked sadly, his face etched in lines of worry. "She hasn't really been herself lately."
"No, she would have told me when she told me about the vision," Tara said. "She wouldn't keep a secret that would hurt us, not like this. Not when this thing could kill someone."
Xander nodded, satisfied with the answer. He hated doubting Willow, hated that there was a part of him that didn't exactly trust her anymore.
"Why don't we call Angel?" Anya asked, breaking the silence. "We could ask him about the vision."
"'Hey, Angel... did you ever fight some demon guy outside a circle of stones with a witch there who may or may not have been Willow in a past life, or one of her ancestors?'" Xander said, mimicking holding a phone.
"Actually, that's a good idea," Tara said, nodding at Anya.
"So, which was it? Past life, or ancestor?" Xander said cheerfully, trying to change the subject. He could tell they were going to make him call. He just knew he was going to have to make the call.
"Probably a past life," Tara said thoughtfully, missing the insincerity of Xander's question. "Willow doesn't have any Celtic ancestry, I don't think, and standing stones are a very Celtic thing."
"Oh, just make the call, Xander," Anya said, frowning at him.
"Giles! We could call Giles," Xander offered. Anya leveled him with a look, handing over the phone.
"I don't know the number?" Xander asked. Anya handed him the Rolodex next to the phone.
Sighing, Xander looked up Angel Investigations, then dialed the number. Tara and Anya looked at him expectantly as he listened to the phone ring.
"Hi, Cordy. Can I talk to Angel, please?" Xander said pleasantly. "This is Xander," he said incredulously, frowning. "Look, Cordelia, this is important," he said. There was a pause, then he sighed heavily. "Yes, I'm still dating Anya. And don't call her that. In fact," he went on, his voice taking on a certain relish, "we're engaged to be married."
Anya had frowned, barely restraining herself from snatching the phone away and telling Cordelia she couldn't have Xander when she had realized who had answered the phone. Her frown faded away, though, at Xander's words, and a beaming smile crossed her features.
"Angel! Xander," Xander said, smiling back at Anya. "Look, we've got a situation here," he said after a moment. "No, no - that's okay. I just had a question," Xander responded to something Angel said. "Yeah, well, we've got this demon thing none of us have seen before, and Willow had a, kinda' a vision, I guess," Xander said.
"It was definitely a vision," Anya said helpfully as Xander tried to listen to her and the phone at the same time.
"No, I know you're not vision guy, but you were IN the vision," Xander explained. "Willow was on some hill, in a circle of stones, with this big ugly demon construct thing running up the hill, and you close behind. You and the demon fought, some portal thing opened, Willow was chanting, then it closed," Xander said, hitting all the important bits.
Xander paused, frowning. "No, this isn't a joke."
Alarm bells went off in Tara's head at Xander's words, and she paled, leaning forward and watching him intently.
"She's out patrolling while we do some research," Xander responded to Angel's question. He listened, the blood draining from his face.
"Oh, God," Xander said, his jaw hanging open after a long moment. "Are you serious? Because I'm not laughing." Xander listened closely, holding up a hand to forestall any questions. "Hold on, let me grab a pen," he said, gesturing for Anya's notebook and a pen. He flipped to a clean sheet and started writing as Angel spoke.
"I don't like this," Anya whispered, leaning in to bump her shoulder against Tara's.
"I don't either," Tara said, her gaze focused on Xander.
"So what does this guy want? How do we stop him?" Xander asked. "No, don't you get all gloom and doom broody on me," Xander said, his voice rising. "Because we WILL stop him," he insisted, his jaw clenching as he listened to Angel's response. "Then we'll find her," he said, his voice clipped. "No, I don't know how! We just will!"
Xander shook his head as Anya opened her mouth to ask a question. Tara took Anya's hand, clutching it as they waited for Xander to get off the phone and tell them what was going on.
"I appreciate the offer," Xander said, the anger draining from his voice. "If we definitely need you, we'll call again, and I'll let everyone know." Xander nodded as he listened. "And Angel? Thanks," he said, hanging up the phone, his body still and his hand still on the receiver.
"W-what is it?" Tara asked.
"It's bad," Xander said, pausing to formulate his words. "Very bad."
Tara woke up, draped all over Willow. Sometime during the night, she must have moved over and snuggled in, her body naturally seeking the comfort only Willow could bring. Xander and Anya had crashed on the couch downstairs, the consensus between the three of them being that they would have to share what Angel told them first thing in the morning.
"Shit," Tara said, looking around reflexively to make sure no one had heard her. Sighing, she gently disentangled herself from Willow and then paused. Why bother? Why pull away from Willow right now when she needed this so badly right now? To make a point? It would make things more complicated when Willow woke up, because they needed to talk, but she'd deal with that later.
She wasn't sure if she was making the right choice. She'd had so little practice making choices, really. The vast majority of her life was spent being told what to do and when to do it. The only real choice she had made in that environment was the one to secretly apply for college. With her grades, she had managed a scholarship, and all her father's objections had melted away beneath the knowledge that he couldn't legally stop her, and that the demon would bring her back.
It had been freeing, having those choices. Choosing her classes, her clothes, her room decorations. Still, she hadn't truly felt a part of that crazy college life until Willow, and then a whole new world of choices had opened up for her.
Tara tucked herself back in, resting her head on Willow's shoulder, a bittersweet smile crossing her face when Willow's arms reflexively tightened around her and the murmured incoherently.
Willow didn't have a choice anymore, Tara mused, the thought making her sad. If she was honest with herself, she wanted Willow to choose her over the magick. But now Willow didn't get to have that choice. Somehow, they had to make sure that Willow wasn't casting spells anymore. They weren't sure of the connection between Willow and the construct, but things looked extremely bad all over, and it was possible Willow's spells were aggravating the situation.
In her daydreams, this wasn't how this was all supposed to happen. Willow was supposed to need her so badly she gave it all up. She wanted Willow to make everything up to her... she wanted everything to be all right.
"I want make up sex, dammit," Tara said under her breath, squeezing her eyes tight against the knowledge seared into her brain by Xander's stunning revelations the evening before.
"Okay," Willow murmured sleepily, her eyes drifting open. Tara looked at her, a blush crawling up her face and her eyes wide.
"Umm...W-willow," Tara stammered, trying to decide which would be less uncomfortable - lifting her head to look at Willow, or burying her face in her neck. She compromised, looking over at the clock and staring at the numbers like they held the secrets of creation.
"That's me," Willow agreed, squinting against the sun pouring in the window. She choked back the words that would have shut the curtains, the color draining from her face. "Oh, God," she gasped, her stomach clenching as the spell rose up inside her, trying to get out.
"Willow?" Tara asked, sitting up, her hands moving to stroke the face that was twisted in pain. She looked on helplessly as Willow's body shook, a light sheen of sweat breaking out on her pale skin.
Willow curled up around herself, her knees to her chest as she trembled, every muscle tightening painfully. The power coursed through her, scraping across her nerve endings and demanding to be released. She felt Tara's hand take hers, heard her gasp, then the pain eased, before fading away, leaving her shaking and breathless.
"Oh, God," she moaned, lifting a trembling hand to her face. A sense of relief coursed through her, now that the pain was gone, and with the realization that she had stopped it. Somehow, Tara had stopped the pain, but she had stopped the spell.
"What was that?" Tara asked after a long moment, kneeling next to Willow's huddled form on the bed.
"Spell," Willow managed to say, her throat raw and her voice hoarse.
"That wasn't a spell, Willow. You weren't casting anything. You just -" Tara trailed off, her mind replaying the image of Willow gasping and shaking and unresponsive to her calls.
Willow took in a shaky breath, then took a moment to let her muscles relax. She turned over, and looked up at Tara, her eyes troubled and her voice serious. "I spent all day yesterday trying not to cast anything. Xander finally made me see what was so obvious - that the magick isn't worth losing you. So I tried giving it up."
"Then what happened?" Tara asked her brow furrowing. "You had to cast because of the demon?"
"Not exactly," Willow said, her eyes welling up with tears as she looked away, unable to meet Tara's gaze with her own. "I wandered around all day casting spells without meaning to," she said finally. "I - God, I tried... I didn't even consciously think about it...I'd just be walking and there would be things and people, and problems, and I'd think 'Hey, that needs to be fixed,' and then there was a spell going on and I couldn't remember ever actually deciding to cast it, you know?" Tears tracked down Willow's face, and she brushed them away impatiently, intent on getting out her story. "So I kept walking and thinking, and I tried to pay more attention to what I was doing, but I just kept doing, and I couldn't stop it."
"You were casting magick all day," Tara stated flatly, unsure of what about the story she found more horrifying - Willow's spells, or her inability to stop.''
"But not today," Willow said, a small smile crossing her face. "That's what that was. A spell tried to kinda' sneak up on me, and I stopped it."
Tara wasn't sure what to believe. Was Willow telling her that she couldn't stop? That, instead of making empty promises she didn't plan on keeping, she had found herself unable to keep them?
"I don't know what to think," Tara said finally, standing up from the bed and moving to the dresser, open drawers and pulling out some clothes to wear.
"I don't, either," Willow confessed. "I always thought that... I always thought I was the one in control of it. That the magick did what I wanted it to, and that as long as I wanted it to do good things... helpful world-saving things... that it would all be okay. But its got ahold of me, somehow, and I... I'm not in control anymore," she finished, her voice a haunted whisper. "And I don't want that," she continued, her voice gaining urgency. "I don't want something else being in charge of me, even if - even if you can't-" she said, stopping as her throat closed up on the words.
Tara stood still, her hands resting on the drawer and her back to Willow as she spoke. "Even if I can't, what, Willow?" she asked, her voice steady and calm even as her heart ached for Willow.
"Even if you can't love me without the magick," Willow finally managed, her voice hitching on her sobs.
"Is that what you think?" Tara asked incredulously, moving back to the bed and sitting next to Willow. Willow kept her head down, great hiccups shaking her as she tried to breath through the tears. "Willow, look at me," Tara demanded, only to have Willow shake her head and scoot back on the bed. "Look at me," she repeated more firmly, grasping Willow's chin and lifting her eyes to meet her own.
Tara sighed at Willow's tear-streaked face, and the look of fear and rejection in her eyes. How had things gotten so complicated? When had it all gone so wrong?
"Listen to me," Tara said slowly, her face serious and her tone soothing. "You stayed with me - you took care of me - when I couldn't feed myself. I couldn't dress myself, I didn't know what was going on around me... I couldn't even string a coherent sentence together. And you think I'd leave you if you couldn't blow up demons with a few words? Do you really believe that I love you so much less than you love me?"
Willow shook her head weakly, her face miserable. "No... but I... Baby, I'm so much less. I don't deserve to -"
"You stop it right there," Tara said fiercely. "Did magick make you run out of your safe room into danger the night we met? No, that was just you. Did magick make you stand up for me against my father? No - just you. I have never - Ever -" Tara said, her words intense as she choked up. "I have never loved anyone the way I love you. I have never trusted anyone the way I've trusted you - can't you see that's why this hurt me so badly?"
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry," Willow gasped out, completely breaking down. Tara pulled the sobbing girl into her arms, her own tears spilling as Willow continued her litany. They stayed that way, crying together, for forever before Willow pulled away slowly, Tara reaching up to wipe her tears away.
"It's me or the magick, Willow. I love you, not it... so don't feel like you'll lose me without it, because you won't. I can't stay with you when I don't know for certain that anything that happens or doesn't happen is real, you know? The magick has to stop. That's your choice."
"I want you," Willow said. "None of it... none of it means anything without you." Her face fell as she continued. "But I don't know if I can. I stopped it today, this once, but... I need help, Baby. I can't do this alone."
The door creaked and they both looked up, startled to see Buffy, Xander, Anya and Spike standing in the doorway, armed to the teeth and looking sheepish.
"We, uh...heard a commotion," Buffy said, lowering her axe.
"Yeah, we thought something... I dunno... demony was going on," Xander said, letting the crossbow swing up and rest against his shoulder. Spike ducked back as he was almost hit in the head with the bolt, then let his 'game face' drop.
"I just wanted to listen," Anya said cheerfully, not-so-gently handing her stake to Xander with a backhand to the stomach and walking into the room, hopping onto the bed and enclosing both startled women in a hug. "Everything's going to be fine," she said, looking back over her shoulder and mouthing 'how was that?' at Xander.
Xander pulled a face, then gave a little thumbs up as Buffy walked into the room, joining in the group hug.
"She's right, you know. Everything is gonna' be all right," Buffy said, nodding determinedly. "And you don't have to do this alone, Will. We're all here to help you."
"Absolutely," Xander agreed, joining the large pile of womanhood on the bed and thanking his lucky stars.
"Well, now," Spike said, looking on with a mixture of amusement and disgust. "If you've all gotten your daily affirmations out of the way, we've got a Hell God to attend to?"
"What?" Willow asked, her brow furrowing as she looked up at Spike. A seeping coldness sunk into her chest. "Glory -?"
"No," Buffy said, shaking her head. "Glory's gone. Definitely gone. But there were three Hell Gods, and apparently, that demon thing -"
"That was a Hell God?" Willow squeaked, a horrified look on her face.
"No, Baby," Tara said, holding Willow's hand and giving it a squeeze. "That was a construct. It got through the Hellmouth somehow, presumably sent by the Hell God who made it."
"You have one early night," Willow said weakly, her voice and eyes distant as her mind reeled, "and look at all the stuff you miss."
"Come on," Buffy said, standing up and moving to the door, Xander and Anya following. "We'll leave you two to get out of your pj's and we'll fill you in over breakfast."
"You knew about this?" Willow asked, staring blankly at Tara.
"Yeah. We called Angel last night and asked him about your vision."
"Oh. Yeah. That was a good idea," Willow agreed dully, standing up and getting dressed mechanically.
"Willow, are you okay?" Tara asked, tugging on her own clothes.
"Oh, sure. Fine. Just... y'know... Hell God and all. Mind spinning," she said. "Just a sort of brain-sucking best-friend killing, world-ending kind of guy. Or girl? Boy Hell God, or girl Hell God?" she asked, her brain latching on to odd details as she tried to maintain some semblance of order in her mind.
"Boy Hell God," Tara answered, used to the strange turns Willow's brain made when it was trying to process everything at once. "We'll tell you the whole story downstairs."
Willow and Tara walked down the stairs, hand in hand, more in comfort and support than any romantic inclinations, though each hoped this would be a turning point for them. All conversation stopped when they walked into the kitchen, a large box of donuts open on the counter.
"Help yourself," Spike said, leaning back against the sink and drinking blood from a mug.
The rest of the Scoobies sat around, eating their donuts with an intensity of concentration that could only arise from a guilty conscience.
"So what did we learn?" Willow asked, selecting a jelly donut and sitting at the table.
"Well, we called Angel," Xander began.
"Angel?" Spike let out. "Oh, bloody hell. You didn't tell me that part. Is that sodding nancy-boy going to come prancing up here?"
"No," Xander said, looking askance at Spike. "He's got something big going down in LA, so he can't be here. But he said to call if we need him, and he'll be here when he gets that wrapped up."
"Thanks," Buffy said, a half-hearted smile on her face as Spike fumed in the corner.
"Anyway, we called Angel," Xander said, picking back up with his story. "We told him about Willow's vision thing and he kind of freaked out. Apparently, when Angel was Big Evil Angel, he was working with this construct thing to help a Hell God come to earth. Some witch from the village nearby managed to close up the Hellmouth he was using, and Angel ran away when he realized he was playing for the losing team. So, the Hell God vowed revenge, slunk back to Hell with his construct, and is now, presumably, trying again here in Sunnydale."
Willow's hand slowly rose into the air. "My hand is up... I must have a question," she announced.
"Yes, the young nubile red-headed lesbian in the back," Xander said, nodding at Willow.
"Ummm...construct?" she asked meekly.
"Oh, sorry," Tara said, frowning at Xander's inappropriate, though undoubtedly accurate, description of Willow. "A construct is kinda' like a golum. A demon makes one, sends it to other planes, and it does its dirty-work."
"Why send a construct? Why not just go?" Willow asked.
"Well, demons are attached to the plane they naturally exist on. That's why summoning them takes so much magickal power. A construct doesn't have that connection, so it can pass between the planes easier," Tara answered.
"Okay. So how do we stop this thing?" Willow asked.
"We have to send the construct back," Anya said. "That way, it won't be able to help the Hell God from opening the Hellmouth."
"You mean like... a spell?" Willow said weakly, a look of fear crossing her face.
"W-we're not really sure," Tara said. "It really depends on how it got here. I mean, if the Hellmouth is still weakened, we might be able to just toss it through, then we just have to strengthen it."
"How?" Willow asked.
"I - I can take care of it," Tara said quickly. "Don't w-worry about it."
Willow fell quiet, lost in her thoughts. On one level, she was afraid of the idea of casting the spell, though she felt like she was the best person for the job. She had the most power, and it was dangerous, and she didn't want Tara anywhere near anything dangerous - especially a brain-sucking Hell God. On yet another, she felt useless and helpless in the face of her promise to try to give up the magick, when they so clearly needed a big powerful spell cast.
"You'll need my help," Willow said after a long moment.
"No one's asking you to cast any spells, Will," Buffy said, reaching across the table and covering her hand with her own.
"No one wants you to cast any spells," Anya added helpfully.
"I know. I mean, with the research. You need to know how the construct got here, how it plans on opening the Hellmouth, how this witch stopped the Hell God in the first place, because we might need to duplicate it. We'll need to know how this Hell God thinks. I mean, does he have a plan? Because if he has a plan, we just need to mess it up a little. Or is there some big prophecy thing going on? It would help if we could find it."
Smiles all around grew as Willow continued, everyone silent as she listed what they needed.
"I mean, are we talking about Glory, only a guy? He might do stuff different, or - oh Oh! He might have minions here in Sunnydale other than the construct! We need to look into that."
Tara slipped out of the room, a giddy smile slipping helplessly across her face as she walked into the book-strewn living room and stopped at the table there. She grabbed a pile of pens and the notebook, carrying them back into the kitchen and setting them silently in front of Willow.
"Thanks, Baby," Willow said, grabbing the pens and writing as she continued to speak. "We should call Giles. Find out if the Watcher's Council knows anything about this one. Did Angel have a name for him?"
"The Trickster," Xander piped up.
"The Trickster," Willow said, a chill racing up her spine as she wrote the name in red ink.
"Damn Watcher's Council needs to get out of the 16th century," Willow grumbled, rubbing her tired eyes. "Couldn't they have all this stuff in a database?"
"Do they even know what a database is?" Tara asked. "Do I know what a database is?" she went on, a smile on her face. The Scoobies had moved all the books back to The Magic Box after they had polished off the donuts, Anya declaring that she needed to open the shop because there was money to be had, and she wanted it.
Willow gave Tara a wry look, and they both went back to their reading. Buffy was out, looking for anything at the two confirmed construct sightings, Dawn and Spike were at the Summers house, and Xander had some things to take care of at the construction site, leaving Willow and Tara to try to answer some of the questions on Willow's list.
"What color was the witch again?" Tara asked, pushing around the pile of pens on the table. Willow started to look up, her eyes tracking Tara's fingers as they picked up and discarded several different pens. She had such beautiful hands.
"Umm...what?" Willow asked, her eyes snapping up to meet Tara's.
"The wit