Mutant Enemy Television, Inc. owns Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned, or any other, copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons (either real or fictional) is unintended.
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IV – Studies and ConfessionsThe daylight had done a great deal to banish the fears that had beset Tara during the dark shroud of night, and now she found herself relaxing in the UC-Sunnydale library. Gone was the anxiety that now seemed silly, and which was replaced by the more concrete fear of her Eastern Philosophy mid-term. Not that eastern philosophy was all that difficult a subject for the young witch. A devotee of the naturalist Wicca religion, Tara easily grasped philosophies such as Taoism, with its belief in a unifying life force throughout the world, and Hinduism, with its concept of an eternal soul that carries past rewards and sins with it throughout eternity. She mused silently about how even Shinto, with its seemingly crude animist tenets, actually held some degree of accuracy in what she felt was the true vision of Wicca.
"Excuse me, young lady," a low, half-whispered voice said. Tara turned slightly in her chair and looked up into the coldest set of blue eyes she had ever seen. A chill shot up her spine, and once again the pit of her stomach sank the way it had when she had been awakened the night before. An old man stood before her, gazing intently into her eyes. He was physically unassuming, only about five and a half feet tall, and very slight of build. She guessed he couldn't have been more than a hundred and thirty pounds. His pale white skin seemed strangely weathered, as if he had been exposed to the elements for a lifetime, his flesh first growing leathery before then being brought inside and bleached for years on end. His clothes were simple, black pants, a white shirt, a black sports jacket, and a thin black tie. A wide-brimmed black hat covered his head, revealing only a few wisps of stark white hair.
"Wh-what?" she asked hesitantly.
"Oh, I'm sorry if I startled you," the man rasped, his lips spreading into what Tara assumed was supposed to be a warm smile. Rather than being warm, it seemed eerily malevolent, the pale, slightly parted lips revealing slightly gray, chipped teeth. "I was only hoping you could give me directions."
"S-s-s-sure," Tara stammered, trying to regain her composure. The chills had stopped, but now it seemed as if her fingers and toes were starting to go numb. It was an experience unlike anything she had ever felt. A voice deep within her told her to flee from this man as quickly as she could.
"Thank you," the man replied, his smile growing slightly wider. The increased view of his seemingly decaying mouth made Tara wish he was not as happy as he appeared to be. "I'm looking for the Rare Books Room."
"It's upstairs," Tara gasped, relieved that she was completely familiar with the man's destination. It would make it easier to get him moving along on his way that much more quickly. The Rare Books Room contained many ancient tomes that had been reprinted only once or twice within the last hundred years, as well as translations of spells that both she and Willow found crucial for their training. That one room alone contained more information on the occult than the rest of the library combined. "Just go through those doors there," Tara said, motioning across the study room, "and go up the staircase. When you get to the second floor, go through the door and turn left. The Rare Books Room will be directly across from you."
"Thank you, my dear," the man answered. Rather than walk away immediately, however, he stood hovering over her, reading over the titles of her books. "Very interesting subject matter," he commented, his voice growing louder and more gravelly as he spoke.
"Y-yeah," Tara answered, hoping desperately that the old man would simply leave her alone. She was beginning to regain her composure, and the feeling in her body was coming back, but she simply felt uneasy.
"I remember studying eastern religions when I was in school a few years back," the man said.
"Oh really?" Tara asked, trying desperately to balance her desire for the man to leave with her belief that she should always treat her elders with respect.
"Yes," the man muttered. "I'm a priest, you see, but back when I received my formal training our instructors didn't delve much into non-Christian religion. That was left for us to learn later, on our own. Of course, things are different now, more accepting of differing viewpoints."
"You're a priest?" Tara asked, somehow shocked that such a wicked-looking man could be a man of God. Now that she thought about it, however, something just seemed to make sense about his vocation. The way he made her feel was similar to the way her father, brother, and the preacher in her hometown had always set her ill at ease. She had once read in a book on the occult that said those that truly believe in their faith radiate a certain aura that causes non-believers to become uneasy. It was, if she remembered correctly, referred to as the Light of the Faith. Rather than concern her more, the information that the man was a priest seemed to comfort the young witch in a way she couldn't describe, and had certainly not expected. "I w-was wondering if you could give me advice on something," she said hesitantly.
"Giving advice is part of what I do," the man answered, walking around to her side and pulling up a chair next to her. He sat down slowly, as if changing the way his weight was balanced on his joints was a precarious undertaking. "My name is Raine, Father Raine."
"Hi," the witch replied. She couldn't figure out why she was suddenly finding herself drawn to the man. Her first impulse, after all, had been to run away as fast as she could. Now, however, the voice that had been crying for her to flee was now yearning for her to confess her transgressions against the Christian faith in which she was raised. She held back from blurting out that she was a witch, however, and concentrated on her concerns about her lover.
"I'm seeing someone," she began delicately, avoiding telling the priest that she was in an 'alternative' relationship. "I think they might be in danger," she said instead, not knowing what else to say.
"I assume you mean that he is in physical peril, and not in spiritual danger," Father Raine replied, assuming, as Tara had expected, that the witch's significant other was a man. "Is this a matter for the police?"
"I don't know," Tara replied truthfully. She couldn't believe she was even having the conversation. She had no idea if the coincidence of both she and Willow having what she guessed was the same dream was just that – a coincidence. This seemed to be a conversation she should be having with Willow, and not a stranger. However, the fact that he was a priest comforted her somewhat, and she was reminded of her youth, when her father would invite the local minister to dinner once a month. As a very young child she had always been extremely secure in her faith, and was certain that God was always looking down on her with caring, protective eyes. The feeling had faded as she grew older and religious people made her feel increasingly uneasy, but now a small piece of that security had suddenly returned to her, and she grew comfortable with her newfound counselor.
"I've learned to trust his instincts," Tara continued, deciding to follow the lie that she had begun, referring to her partner as a man. Tara had never been in the least ashamed of her relationship with Willow, at least until this very moment. In the eyes of the priest, which in themselves seemed to be so completely non-judgmental, she suddenly felt as if many of her recent choices had been completely wrong.
"And do his instincts seem to indicate that he is in some type of danger?"
"It's strange," Tara answered. "He woke up suddenly last night, disturbed about a dream he had." Tara looked at the priest, and then her heart sank ever so slightly. "I know we shouldn't be sleeping together when we're not married yet," she added.
"That is a personal matter between you and God," Father Raine replied, his voice surprisingly patient and warm. "I don't feel I should judge you on that. You know the difference between right and wrong, and you have every right to choose. These are enlightened times, the Church doesn't burn women at the stake for adultery anymore," he said with a rueful smile. Despite his veiled condemnation, Tara smiled, too. "So your concern is about a dream?"
"The dream just seemed too much like a dream I had, too," Tara said, knowing how foolish her words must have sounded.
"Perhaps the dreams were a message of some sort," Raine said in a low, urgent voice. The sudden change in his demeanor caught Tara completely by surprise.
"A m-m-message?" she asked.
"To quote Shakespeare, young lady, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophies."
"I guess so," Tara admitted. "I'm sorry if I've taken up too much of your time," she said apologetically, suddenly wanting to bring the conversation to an end. I know you must have all sorts of other things to do right now."
"I'm a priest, young lady," Father Raine replied with his unsettling smile. "The only important thing I ever have to do is to watch over God's flock. I will ever be at your service." He reached a gnarled hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small card. "My number is on here, young lady." He looked her over for a moment, and his smile grew once again. "What is your name, miss?"
"Tara," the witch replied with a large grin.
"Well, Tara, if you need any more advice, or simply someone to listen, do not hesitate to call."
"I won't," the young woman replied with a smile. As Father Raine stood and left, it seemed to Tara as if a great weight was lifted from her soul, and all of her concerns and fears went along with him. All, that is, except for the fear of her Eastern Philosophy mid-term.
To be continued..................................