Prologue

A blinding panic filled Tara's mind. Her hands shook around the redhead's small torso as they scrambled down the last few steps of Stevenson Hall, into the laundry room. She helped the other girl close the door behind them, feeling her arms tickle, somehow light but bereft, which juxtaposed oddly with the terror coursing through her veins.

Blackness crawled at the edges of her vision, and her side felt like it must be dripping copious amounts of blood. Of course it wasn't, but this is what she got for never exercising... She gasped, more leaning against the door than keeping it closed. The redhead grabbed her shoulder, and she felt that missingness drop away for a moment, turning to where Willow indicated-- a soda machine against the wall.

The girls strained against it, but it barely budged. Tara tried to forget the grinning faces of their pursuers, the flailing of the minions who had come so close to catching her-- the villains she'd set upon Willow, too. Willow, who came to her aid without thought... who now staggered away, falling against some dryers. She clutched her ankle, grimacing in pain, and then her eyes filled with resolve. She stared at the soda machine with something approaching hatred.

Tara looked from her to the great box, confused and then understanding, as the machine shook. That thing's too big to move magically, unless she's really, really powerful... Willow sagged in defeat. Apparently she isn't.

Tara looked at Willow's tumultuous expression. Mother and I used to combine our powers... though it was very difficult. Maybe... She reached out and touched Willow's hand with her fingers, drawing away as it twitched. Willow looked down, and Tara tried again, feeling the world narrow as Willow's expression melted, fingers entwining with hers.

She felt a current through their palms, and the look in Willow's eye told her she felt it too. Still, the question must be asked, and Tara asked it, seeing Willow's anguish return in a heartbeat. She tried to reassure Willow with her eyes. It will be alright. You can trust me.

Willow's answer came though in a burst of power and determination, and Tara's power came to meet it, entwining like their hands, in their hands. The rush pulled Tara's hand's muscles tight, and a moment later Willow's followed, locking their hands together. Tara shifted her focus to the machine and felt Willow's power follow hers, and their heads turned at the same time.

The soda machine was light as a feather.

Woah, Tara thought, wishing she could speak it. Willow caught her eye, and then looked at their entwined hands.

The power was still surging, and Tara found herself reluctant to withdraw that connection. Her power pushed against Willow's, and Willow's pushed back, squirming, but not uncomfortably. A hint of a smile appeared on Willow's face. She was enchanted by the rawness of it, Tara could tell. She was enchanted with what they could do-- what she, Willow, could do.

Their breath came in gasps still, and suddenly Tara was aware of her body, the sweat dripping between her breasts and down her arms, the adrenaline rush, the-- now excess of-- oxygen, the endorphins pumping quick through her veins. She wasn't tired, not yet. Not anymore. Her power danced on Willow's, fleeting touches, drawing sparks. Green and purple, and white where they touched. Willow's retreated, drifting away, along sideways, and Tara's followed, playing along, till Willow's froze and then pounced, melding onto Tara's, spreading into a sheet and wrapping itself around.

The world fell away as the two witches focused on their entwined hands.

Tara met Willow at every point, denying Willow the opportunity of surrounding her, and they spread against each other. Tara let Willow play herself out, and then wrapped her excess around the side of Willow; Willow's eyes flashed as she realized that Tara had more than she did, that Tara had more leverage. She began retreating into herself, drawing back into a ball.

Then Tara broke Willow's skin where she surrounded it, mixing the green and purple in blinding light at that point. They gasped. Willow froze, and then expanded enthusiastically, wrapping around Tara, trying to figure out how she'd done it, trying to do the same. Tara made herself as small as she could at one of those places, waiting, and Willow finally broke her surface, collapsed in on her. Tara flowed into the glowing space, losing herself slowly in the radiance, blearily noting that as she entered, Willow thickened herself there too, flowing together now, until the glowing almost encompassed their beings. The other spot of penetration faded in the comparative glow, was drawn quickly to it--

The soft sound of a high-pitched scream broke the night's stillness.

Their mouths opened and welcomed their voices back. Their heads snapped up, hearing the sudden silence outside the door, then the sudden, wet explosions. Their hands dropped away from each other. Their eyes met, and then dropped too.

By the time they'd managed to move the soda machine, by hand this time, there was a commotion outside. A lot of people were yelling and hugging each other. Word-- delicious, beautiful sound-- had spread. The atmosphere was euphoric.

They made their way outside. With the exception of an occasional, loud passerby, the night was quiet. Crickets sang to the stars.

Neither said a word.

Ch 1

"Hey." Willow's voice was soft. She furrowed her brow and fidgeted with the phone cord. "This is Willow. So I was just thinking about you, and the telekinesis, and I found a spell in one of Giles' books—Giles, the one with all the, all the, uh, magic books? Anyway, it looked really pretty cool and, and with the whole 'you doing magic for a really long time' thing and stuff, I thought maybe we could look at it together? Sometime? Well, okay, when you get this message, could you call me back? Like, we could meet at that place, the Espresso Pump, next to the Magic Box. I thought…. Well, okay, so…. Yeah, bye!"

Willow dropped onto her bed, looking even more upset, her nervous energy fading rapidly. She hadn't slept well that night; the image of the boy lying next to her in bed, seeping blood, eyes glazed, stayed with her. She'd turned the light on twice, just to make sure—though she knew it was silly. The second time, Buffy'd stirred, and Willow lay as still and silent as she could, till she was sure the Slayer had gone back to sleep. She didn't want Buffy to worry about it.

She turned her frown to the door and sighed. Two classes today. For once, she was not really looking forward to Psychology. She wondered what Professor Walsh would say about the psychological impact of finding a dead man in bed with you—or, for that matter, being attacked by a vampire, or any of the crazy things that'd happened to her. A vampiric doppelganger with a licking fetish, anybody? She snorted.

The door opened, and Buffy graced her with a sunny smile. "Hey, Will. What's so funny?"

"Just thinking about how psychologically scarred we all must be."

Buffy chortled, then shivered dramatically, dropping her toiletries on her bed. "Oh yeah, psych today. Psych is sick!" she quipped. Willow winced at the bad alliteration. "So anyway," Buffy sighed, her happy-face fading as she eased herself down, clutching her back. "The end of the world, huh? What do you think that demon wanted with the tomb-skeleton, anyway?"

Willow sighed. They'd already discussed this. "I dunno, Buffy. I guess… I guess we've just got to go research." Her mood darkened even more. Another day with the Scoobies, fighting to save the world. Or rather… frantically searching dusty books in ancient languages, hoping to find mention of the latest gooey demon. This was why she was here, in Sunnydale… but sometimes….

"Woah, Will. You went all spacey on me." Buffy searched her face. "Is something wrong? Are you still upset about that Percy thing?"

Willow grimaced. She'd forgotten about that. "No, not really. Just broody today, I guess." She twisted her lip. "Sorry."

Buffy shook her head. "Hey, everybody gets that way sometimes. I've been pretty broody myself. My back hurt all night."

"Oh, gosh, Buffy. See? You've got so many good reasons to be broody. Like, demon breaking your back on a gravestone! What kind of reasons do I have? Like… nothing." Willow's face fell.

"Aw, c'mon, Will." Buffy stood. "Here, we'll go to Giles' and find out what this demon is, stop apocalypse, and then we can go… get ice cream or something. Anyway, books good! We'll have a research party." She smiled encouragingly. Willow returned the smile, less than enthusiastically.

At Giles', they all fell easily into research mode—except Xander, who didn't really have a research mode, and Buffy, who was too pumped to sit still and into much pain to bounce around as usual. Willow and Giles, the usual suspects, settled down to pore through various demonology texts.

Willow was curled on one of Giles' sit-alones, flipping intently through "Blood, Symbols, and Spears: A Guide to Ancient Ritual." She abruptly stopped at a page, shot a glance up at Buffy, who was shifting impatiently with a dark look on her face, and dropped her eyes back to the text. "Rituals of Unseemly Nature." Unseemly, as in what? More gross than the rest of this stuff? She knew what it meant, but feigning innocence allowed her to continue reading.

A line caught her eye. "When two women found themselves without a man, they would sometimes—" She interrupted herself, eyes darting around the room before they were drawn inexorably back to the page "—make use of the rituals detailed in 'Arcane Revalatory and Kinetic Magicks, Chapter 6: Pairings Unconventional.'" She blushed furiously, the words "two women," "unseemly," and "Unconventional" connecting with a large exclamation point. Ms. Calendar owned that book, and Willow had it stashed in her and Buffy's closet. She couldn't bear to throw it in the trash where it belonged—and she couldn't give it to Giles, certainly—she couldn't imagine what a conversation about that book would involve, and didn't want to find out—so she kept it. But she never looked inside, after that first time. Those Gypsies had very colorful minds.

She covered her embarrassed fascination by shuddering and slamming the book shut. She got up and plopped down between Giles and Xander, looking over Xander's shoulder at the page he was blankly staring at, dragging her mind away from the disgusting, pornographic—and strangely interesting—monstrosity in her dorm closet.

I wonder if Tara will call tonight, Willow thought as she hopped off the bus, Xander in tow. She'd checked her and Buffy's answering machine three times that day, to no avail. She sighed. I guess Percy was right, I am a nerd. I can't even make a friend outside of the Scoobies.

"I can't believe Giles made me take that leech. Just because he didn't want him anymore? I mean, I have a girlfriend, too." Xander's voice was whiny. "And where's his girlfriend now? I guess having Spike in the house precludes telephone sex, too?" Xander followed her around the back side of the house.

"I'm sure it's only for a little while, Xand. I mean, Giles kept him for almost two months!" She let Xander open the back door, waited for him to stick his head inside and feel out the premises. He sighed in relief and gestured "All clear." Willow grinned at the reminder of their toy soldier days and followed him into the house.

"But I've already had him for more than a week. Do you have any idea what it's like to have his... his dark, brooding presence in the corner every night? I wake up with nightmares."

"Xander, you've had nightmares since you were three. Anyway, who do you want to take him? Buffy and I are dorming; I doubt the resident director would take kindly to a 'dark, brooding presence,' either."

Xander snorted, acknowledging her point. "What about the Initiative? I mean, all we'd have to do is let him loose, they'd scoop him up just fine."

"That's cruel. I mean, he-- he's like a poor little puppy. Anyway, he's not dangerous anymore. Who knows what they might do to him?"

Xander shrugged, and Willow opened the basement door. Spike was inside, standing, but falling, falling down... down on... "What are you doing?" Willow exclamed without thinking. Is that a stake?

As they exited the house, Spike grumbling about public transportation, her mind turned to Oz. As if my day wasn't depressing enough. She sighed for self-perpetuating blahs, remembering her turn in front of a speeding car right after Oz left… and that spell…

"Hey, Xander. You haven't seen Riley lately, have you?"

"Uh, no." They'd reached the bus stop. "Why?"

"Well… he just seems kind of… absent. Oh!" Her face cleared. "Buffy must be protecting him. Since he doesn't even know about the Slayer thing… let alone the looming Apocalypse... yeah."

"I guess." Xander didn't really like talking about Riley. "Yeah, save the poor wittle boy from the big baddies."

Willow ignored Xander's mood. "Although she hasn't talked about him, either. Which is strange. Maybe it will become a trend!" With that happy thought, she turned to look for the bus. And we're visiting a museum. C'mon, Will, this'll be a great day. Well, the rest of it.

Not so great day, she thought, her shoulders drooping as she made her way out of the rubble. "It's kinda weird being back, isn't it?" Xander said.

Willow looked around. "Yeah. Everything seems so small-- and more charred and ruin-ey." Like some other stuff I could mention. Well, at least the world didn't end. And look at Spike! Hello, Earth to Mr. Cheery…

She sighed. That's what Oz always said. Earth to Willow. This is Ground Control. Then he'd smile and hold her closer. What're you thinking about?

Gosh, Oz…. What am I thinking about? She decided she'd write another letter to him tonight. "This is what I have to say to you. You left me, and now I'm alone and I've got nobody, and I'm a nerd again and I can't make any new friends, and even Buffy doesn't want me. Well, not quite that, but she doesn't even tell me when her boyfriend's a commando dude with…. with sexy… little belt-pouch things, and even though Spike doesn't know anything, what he said is true. I'm useless here. Sitting, doing nothing as the world's about to end. When I should be writing my World Literatures paper. I'm useless kind of everywhere. Except with you, but even there I'm useless after a while, too. As you illustrated so succinctly."

She sighed. She couldn't commit those words to paper. You don't wear self-pity well, she told herself firmly. She sighed again, this time for crazy birthday cake shirts. You don't really wear anything very well. Why do you try?

"Hey, Will," Xander said, smiling at her uncertainly. "You're coming back to my place, right? There's a Xena re-run marathon tonight."

Willow mentally shook herself and smiled at Xander. "Yeah, that'd be great." Xander. I wear him well. "Thanks."