A closed fist flew through the air and landed forcefully against a soft blocking pad. The man holding the pads, one in each hand, held his ground, though, unperturbed by the force as he'd trained in this way hundreds of times with his Slayer.
But this wasn't his Slayer. The young woman before him was sloppier, her attacks angrier. There was a scowl on her face, focused, intensely so, but something about the pout in her lips told him she wasn't exactly enjoying the fight.
She was so focused, in fact, strands of sweaty red hair sticking to her face, that she failed to notice Giles bend his knee, a nefarious move, lifting his foot and tripping his opponent, sending her to the ground.
She lay there in defeat for a moment, supine on the grass and watching the cloudy English sky. Giles dropped his pads, chuckling as he reached his hand down to her.
"Okay," said Willow, "So I'm not Buffy."
"You're not," said Giles as she took his hand and he heaved her up, "You've improved immensely, though. When we got here you couldn't do a pushup."
"I hate this," said Willow, panting as she wiped her sweaty forehead on her shirt, not particularly self-conscious that Giles might see her bare torso underneath (though he did look away), "My least favorite class in high school was Gym. I mean, that's 'cause all the learning classes were my favorites. But still."
"You are learning," said Giles, "Your mind and your body. You're building up instinct. Muscle memory."
"But that was the whole point of the magic. And the research and the computer stuff. Helpful without all of… this." She flexed her rather mediocre but still toned biceps dramatically; comically.
"Willow, we've discussed this. Miss Harkness has explained it to you dozens of times."
"I know," said Willow, "And I understand it. I just don't like it."
"You have a very strong spirit but you've ignored the rest of yourself," said Giles, "A witch must create a balance. You need a strong body, mind, and heart. All of it."
"And the mind thing is great. You know, 'go school'. Even witchy coven school," said Willow, as Giles held up the pads again and she went back to work, "And the heart thing, understanding good and bad and light and dark and stuff. I mean, obviously I need that. Being all evil and everything," she punched especially hard, then, enough that Giles actually stumbled back, "But this stuff? The training and the workouts? I don't think I'll ever be used to it. I don't know how Buffy does it. I'm all tired and achy."
"You can't use magic without a strong body, Willow," Giles said, "It drains you. You'll wither away. Remember that light magicks always have a price."
"Dark magicks too. Just, uh, hit harder and hit later. Ugh." Willow tried to blow away a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her eye without halting her assault, "It's just, y'know. These are supposed to be the good magicks."
"Even with the lightest of magicks you must be careful," Giles said, "The sun is light, too, but if you stare at it too long you will go blind."
Willow nodded, wondering if Giles came up with his wisdoms on the spot or if he practiced them in the mirror at night. Catching her distraction, Giles tripped her a second time and she hit the grass with an oof .
"Okay," she wheezed, "Can I be done?"
"I guess that's enough for today," said Giles, moving to help her up again.
Willow rejected his hand and stood herself, "It's hard."
"You're too focused on your hands, Willow," said Giles, "Your whole body is a weapon and your whole body needs to be defended, but you are only looking at your hands. That's how I keep tripping you."
"I know. It's just—you know, I don't shoot fireballs from my knees. My hands have always been where the magic is. The power. Me. Even with a computer keyboard. It's all in my fingers."
"Remember," said Giles, "Your legs are what's connected to the Earth. Focus on them too. On your connection."
"I think that's the problem," Willow said, picking up her shoes and a small backpack, "My feet are so distracted. I can feel, like, all the bugs and the worms and the dandelions and stuff. But Ms. Harkness wants me not to wear my shoes and that makes it way louder."
"No, that's good, Willow," said Giles as the two started walking in a direction, "Keep strengthening your connection to the Earth. That's the point—strengthening your body helps keep you grounded. This is all about the Earth, if we do this right the Earth won't let you—"
"—Destroy it?" Willow asked, "Right. Got it."
"The Earth won't let you lose control. It's the strongest anchor out there, Willow."
Tara had been her anchor. There was a silence, one filled with a sereness masking a fear. Willow's bare feet led the way on the soft grass, Giles following slowly.
"Where are you going?" Giles asked.
"What?" said Willow, "I was following you."
"Willow, you're walking ahead of me."
"Oh," she paused, "I… I was following something ."
"Something in the Earth?"
"I guess." She breathed and closed her eyes for a moment, cocking her head curiously to the side as she opened them again, "That tree over there. There's death in it, I think."
They started to wander over to it, and Willow thought she heard a whisper.
The tree was nothing special, a large one though Willow wasn't botanical enough to identify it. They searched its base and sure enough they found in the dirt a mangled baby bird that had fallen from its nest, too eager to fly. "Poor thing," said Giles.
"Wait," Willow said, shutting her eyes again, forcefully, this time, "It's not dead. Not yet. I think…"
She bent down, eyes still closed. She cupped the bird in her hands, muttered something under her breath and when she opened her hands again the bird had healed. She smiled tiredly, flexing her fingers and telekinetically sending the creature back to its nest hidden in the leaves.
She sighed, leaning on Giles, "All this white magic. It takes so much out of me. I feel weak."
"Look what you just did. It's worth the price. That's why we're keeping your body strong. And your mind and your heart. So you can pay these prices without falling back on old habits."
"You're right," said Willow. And in that moment, despite her tiredness, with the noise of the Earth in her bare feet and the buzz of power in her fingers, the blues and greens and grays of the English countryside in her eyes and the chirping of birds reunited with their young in her ears, she felt so content that she thought she never wanted to leave. "Thanks, Giles. You know, for everything."
"Let's go," Giles said, steadying Willow as they turned the other way, "I think there's tea at the house."
