Title: Westbury at Night
Author: Samantha Mallory
Rating: PG
Summary: On the night before returning home, Willow reflects on her actions.
Disclaimer: Yeah, right. Like I could come up with any of these characters myself.
Dedication: This is for my baby sister, everybody shipper extraordinaire. It was her joking words and corrupt mind that led to the writing of this story.
Author's Notes at end
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Westbury, England
Willow knelt by the window and gazed out on the moon-pale landscape. She wasn't sure what time it was currently, but she could guess that it was late enough that she should be sleeping. She had to get up early in the morning to catch her flight in London. For some reason, though, she just couldn't shut her eyes.
She looked over the room that had been given to her for the duration of her stay with the coven once more, not knowing what she was looking for. The room had been bare even before she packed all her things for the trip back to Sunnydale. All that was there other than her suitcase was an antique wooden bed, an armoire, and a trunk to hold any personal belongings. Balanced carefully on top of the trunk, there were several crystals and a single candle, all items that Willow had been using for her meditation exercises.
It took very little effort now to stretch out her senses and feel the earth beneath and all around her. It was actually so simple that Willow often found herself wondering why she hadn't bothered to learn any of this before...before the badness that she couldn't bear to think about alone.
She fingered the rose quartz she wore around her neck and tried to avoid thinking about Tara, unsuccessfully. A wave of sadness washed through her, and she once again pulled back in on herself. She missed Tara dreadfully, and sometimes the pain was so overwhelming that Willow didn't know if she would have the strength to face another day. The only thing that kept her going was the quiet support and comfort of the coven. And now she was being forced to leave them to return to the uncertainty of California.
Through these thoughts, the feeling of another's emotions tickled the edges of her senses, and Willow realized with a start that Giles was awake down the hall. She wasn't quite sure when she had first been able to "feel" Giles, but she suspected that it may have started after they did the joining spell with Buffy to defeat Adam. Now, with the meditation and careful focus she had been learning, Willow's awareness of the older man had grown even more.
Her fist was poised to knock on the door to his room before Willow was even aware that her feet had carried her away from her window. She debated with herself over whether she should disturb Giles. He was being so good about everything, and Willow didn't feel that she had any right to impose on him further. She began to turn away when his door opened, and Giles stood there, silhouetted by moonlight.
No words were spoken as Willow settled at the foot of his bed, merely staring at her hands folded in her lap. She sensed more than heard him seat himself in the battered armchair that occupied one corner of the room. The silence stretched until Willow could stand it no longer.
"You asked me if I wanted to be punished for what I did," she started in a tired whisper, "and the answer is yes. I want to be punished. More than that, I need to be punished."
"Why?"
Willow finally looked up at Giles, but was unable to see his face. All she could see was part of his body, clad in worn flannel pajamas and shadows. She forced herself to answer, even though it was difficult to find words to express what she was feeling.
"I did...horrible things after Tara died. Things no human being should ever do, or even be capable of doing. To Warren. To Xander and Buffy. To you. And I should never be forgiven for any of it." Willow paused to draw in a shaky breath. "But if it's necessary for me to get back into society, I need to feel like I've made up for what I did. Even if it's just a little bit."
"How?" Willow noted absently that if she had been her usual self, she would have found this rather amusing. Giles, proclaimed Book Man and possessor of more words than Willow could ever hope to remember, was speaking in simple monosyllabic, one word sentences.
"I don't know. But the guilt is eating me up inside." A note of pleading entered her voice without her awareness of it. "Punish me, Giles. Please."
Finally, Giles left his chair and sat on the bed next to Willow. He wrapped his arms around her, and she collapsed against his chest, crying for the first time since Xander had stopped her from destroying the world.
It was all coming back to her at once. The sun stinging her eyes as she channeled energy from the earth into the temple. The feeling of satisfaction as she shredded the skin from Warren's body. And oddly, coming through her memories the strongest was the smell of roses. Willow couldn't remember what in the room she had shared with Tara at the Summers' house had smelled so sweet, but she knew that she would never be able to see roses again in the same way. They would always remind her of death.
Finally, her tears abated. Willow noticed for the first time that Giles was rocking her and rubbing small circles on her back as though comforting a small child. She certainly didn't feel like the mature woman that she was supposed to be. Yet, she didn't push back from the safety of his arms until he spoke.
"The guilt will always be with you, Willow, as will the grief. Killing someone changes a person." Giles leant back a little and took her chin in his hand, raising it so that her pain-filled eyes met his calm, green ones. "Do you understand?"
Willow nodded mutely, tears once more springing to her eyes. "I wish more than anything that I could go back and undo everything that I did."
"But you can't. You must live with your actions as well as you can."
"I know," she sighed. "Does it ever get any better?"
The ghost of a smile touched Giles' lips. "A little, on those rare occasions when you can manage to forget."
"Then I suppose I'll survive. Thank you." Willow hugged Giles impulsively. He seemed a little taken aback, but soon wrapped her up in a warm hug.
"For what?" he asked.
"For comforting me," Willow mumbled into his warm chest.
Since the young woman seemed reluctant to let go of him, Giles eased himself into a more comfortable position against the headboard. It wasn't long before he noticed that Willow's breathing had evened and deepened into the rhythm of sleep. He smiled gently and shifted his gaze to the window. It was going to be difficult, but he knew that Willow would recover.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes: This story was mostly inspired by something that my little sister said while watching Giles and Willow interact in England. I'm not going to actually tell you what it was, but I did put the statement in the story. You just have to find it. Anyway, what did you think? Please let me know. If I get enough favorable reviews, I may even be tempted to do a sequel.
Author: Samantha Mallory
Rating: PG
Summary: On the night before returning home, Willow reflects on her actions.
Disclaimer: Yeah, right. Like I could come up with any of these characters myself.
Dedication: This is for my baby sister, everybody shipper extraordinaire. It was her joking words and corrupt mind that led to the writing of this story.
Author's Notes at end
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Westbury, England
Willow knelt by the window and gazed out on the moon-pale landscape. She wasn't sure what time it was currently, but she could guess that it was late enough that she should be sleeping. She had to get up early in the morning to catch her flight in London. For some reason, though, she just couldn't shut her eyes.
She looked over the room that had been given to her for the duration of her stay with the coven once more, not knowing what she was looking for. The room had been bare even before she packed all her things for the trip back to Sunnydale. All that was there other than her suitcase was an antique wooden bed, an armoire, and a trunk to hold any personal belongings. Balanced carefully on top of the trunk, there were several crystals and a single candle, all items that Willow had been using for her meditation exercises.
It took very little effort now to stretch out her senses and feel the earth beneath and all around her. It was actually so simple that Willow often found herself wondering why she hadn't bothered to learn any of this before...before the badness that she couldn't bear to think about alone.
She fingered the rose quartz she wore around her neck and tried to avoid thinking about Tara, unsuccessfully. A wave of sadness washed through her, and she once again pulled back in on herself. She missed Tara dreadfully, and sometimes the pain was so overwhelming that Willow didn't know if she would have the strength to face another day. The only thing that kept her going was the quiet support and comfort of the coven. And now she was being forced to leave them to return to the uncertainty of California.
Through these thoughts, the feeling of another's emotions tickled the edges of her senses, and Willow realized with a start that Giles was awake down the hall. She wasn't quite sure when she had first been able to "feel" Giles, but she suspected that it may have started after they did the joining spell with Buffy to defeat Adam. Now, with the meditation and careful focus she had been learning, Willow's awareness of the older man had grown even more.
Her fist was poised to knock on the door to his room before Willow was even aware that her feet had carried her away from her window. She debated with herself over whether she should disturb Giles. He was being so good about everything, and Willow didn't feel that she had any right to impose on him further. She began to turn away when his door opened, and Giles stood there, silhouetted by moonlight.
No words were spoken as Willow settled at the foot of his bed, merely staring at her hands folded in her lap. She sensed more than heard him seat himself in the battered armchair that occupied one corner of the room. The silence stretched until Willow could stand it no longer.
"You asked me if I wanted to be punished for what I did," she started in a tired whisper, "and the answer is yes. I want to be punished. More than that, I need to be punished."
"Why?"
Willow finally looked up at Giles, but was unable to see his face. All she could see was part of his body, clad in worn flannel pajamas and shadows. She forced herself to answer, even though it was difficult to find words to express what she was feeling.
"I did...horrible things after Tara died. Things no human being should ever do, or even be capable of doing. To Warren. To Xander and Buffy. To you. And I should never be forgiven for any of it." Willow paused to draw in a shaky breath. "But if it's necessary for me to get back into society, I need to feel like I've made up for what I did. Even if it's just a little bit."
"How?" Willow noted absently that if she had been her usual self, she would have found this rather amusing. Giles, proclaimed Book Man and possessor of more words than Willow could ever hope to remember, was speaking in simple monosyllabic, one word sentences.
"I don't know. But the guilt is eating me up inside." A note of pleading entered her voice without her awareness of it. "Punish me, Giles. Please."
Finally, Giles left his chair and sat on the bed next to Willow. He wrapped his arms around her, and she collapsed against his chest, crying for the first time since Xander had stopped her from destroying the world.
It was all coming back to her at once. The sun stinging her eyes as she channeled energy from the earth into the temple. The feeling of satisfaction as she shredded the skin from Warren's body. And oddly, coming through her memories the strongest was the smell of roses. Willow couldn't remember what in the room she had shared with Tara at the Summers' house had smelled so sweet, but she knew that she would never be able to see roses again in the same way. They would always remind her of death.
Finally, her tears abated. Willow noticed for the first time that Giles was rocking her and rubbing small circles on her back as though comforting a small child. She certainly didn't feel like the mature woman that she was supposed to be. Yet, she didn't push back from the safety of his arms until he spoke.
"The guilt will always be with you, Willow, as will the grief. Killing someone changes a person." Giles leant back a little and took her chin in his hand, raising it so that her pain-filled eyes met his calm, green ones. "Do you understand?"
Willow nodded mutely, tears once more springing to her eyes. "I wish more than anything that I could go back and undo everything that I did."
"But you can't. You must live with your actions as well as you can."
"I know," she sighed. "Does it ever get any better?"
The ghost of a smile touched Giles' lips. "A little, on those rare occasions when you can manage to forget."
"Then I suppose I'll survive. Thank you." Willow hugged Giles impulsively. He seemed a little taken aback, but soon wrapped her up in a warm hug.
"For what?" he asked.
"For comforting me," Willow mumbled into his warm chest.
Since the young woman seemed reluctant to let go of him, Giles eased himself into a more comfortable position against the headboard. It wasn't long before he noticed that Willow's breathing had evened and deepened into the rhythm of sleep. He smiled gently and shifted his gaze to the window. It was going to be difficult, but he knew that Willow would recover.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Notes: This story was mostly inspired by something that my little sister said while watching Giles and Willow interact in England. I'm not going to actually tell you what it was, but I did put the statement in the story. You just have to find it. Anyway, what did you think? Please let me know. If I get enough favorable reviews, I may even be tempted to do a sequel.