Chapter 5 -- Seers

"Ready?" Giles asked Willow gently as they lowered themselves to the floor.

He knew that he should have been feeling grave and anxious, but he could not bring himself to. Spellcrafting with Willow was a unique, and exciting, experience. The raw power she was capable of calling up was more than what the entire Coven could have brought to bear on a spell.

Giles had always enjoyed spellcrafting as part of a group. The mingled energies, unified but individual, flowed through the group from one caster to the next. It was more intimate than sex in many ways, because it was a cooperation not of the body but of the mind and the spirit. Individual brain-waves came into complete harmony, transforming a pair or a group into an entity. Individual identity was retained, but there was a sense of interconnectedness, a bond to the other casters and to the universe itself, that was humbling beyond words.

Humbling it may have been, but exhilarating and euphoric as well. There was the Buzz of course, almost a high, that resulted from being flooded with so much more energy than your body was accustomed to holding, but it went beyond that. When your own magic, your own life-force, mingled with that of another, you came to know that person more deeply than it was possible to know them in any other way. More, though, you found yourself changed. A piece of you remained in the other caster, and a piece of them in you. It was the reason why Giles still occasionally found himself doing things that he should not have been able to. Residual Power from the other members of the Coven had become not residual at all, but as inherent a part of him as if he had been born with it. Unpredictable though it was, it left him probably the second most powerful sorcerer on the planet, second only to the Wicca kneeling across from him.

It was the first time since Tara's death that they had combined their energies towards a spell, and Willow's power had grown by leaps and bounds. Each would probably end up more powerful for it than they had been before. And the Buzz was going to be amazing. Assuming it did not put them both into comas first. Part of him was afraid that it might. Humans were, after all, fragile vessels and both of them contained more power already than they had any right to. Looking into Willow's eyes as they knelt there, he suspected that she was suffering from the same concerns.

"Can you do this, Willow?" he asked gently.

She nodded slowly. "Think so, Giles. I'm just a little worried about all the Power."

"I know." Giles nodded and gently squeezed her shoulder. "We can still decide not to do this," he offered.


Willow shook her head. "No. We need to know what's going to happen," she said firmly, squaring her shoulders.

Nothing if not brave, Giles reflected. He could sense her anxiety over the whole thing, but she flatly refused to back down. Her sense of determination was something about her that he had always loved, even when they were at odds. Willow was most decidedly her own person, and she traveled her own path, not letting anyone stand in the way of her chosen course. It was an admirable trait, and it made her the perfect ally to have in times such as these. He nodded and extended his hands towards her. They hovered, one palm-up and one palm-down, in the space between them. The black mirror rested on the floor and his hands were reflected, distorted, in the glass surface.

Willow inhaled deeply, steeling herself. Closing her eyes, she extended her hands, sliding them into Giles' waiting hands. One hand facing up, the other down, their palms touched lightly. Her own hands were cold, as always happened when she grew nervous. His hands were comfortably warm and she could feel a lifetime's worth of calluses on them.

She had learned enough about palmistry in England to know that a person's hands told his life-story. Giles was no exception. He had the callused fingertips of a scholar who had dedicated decades of his life to books and knowledge, the callused palms of a man adept with a sword and a dozen other weapons. Small scars spoke to injuries received in battle and burns taken during spells. These were the hands of a sage and a warrior, but gentle, too, the hands of a man who knew how to give and receive love.

She opened her eyes and looked into his, waiting.

He gave her a reassuring smile, nodding encouragingly. Such cold hands, the skin so soft. The hands of a girl who had not really lived yet. She had of course, had fought enough battles and experienced enough loss to fill ten lifetimes for anyone else, but it did not change how young she was, how much she lacked in terms of life-experience. She was so much more powerful than he could ever hope to be, but she still needed guiding hands, hands like his, he supposed, to direct and support her. He allowed his eyes and expression to speak to her, reassuring her that he would not let any harm befall.

Willow smiled back, nodding firmly. Her expression one of grim determination, she began chanting the Latin words Giles had given her. When he began chanting a few moments later, he spoke different words in a different language. Gaelic and Latin speech filled the room, neither overpowering the other but rather ebbing and flowing, combining and melding with one another. Two spells, Giles had explained, spoken in tandem, combining with and enhancing each other.

Willow closed her eyes as she received her first taste of Power. It was swirling through the room like a slight breeze on a summer's day, little eddies of energy twining around each other, gradually building to something greater, like threads wrapped together to form a rope. It was a beginning; Willow understood that. As strongly as she could feel it now, it would only get stronger, especially once it stopped flowing around them and started flowing through them. Already she was feeling that familiar tingle, down through to her toes. This spell was a powerful one, almost dauntingly so.

Giles nearly lost the cadence of his recitation as he felt the amount of raw Power swirling through the room. It was not a spell he had ever cast before, not one to be taken lightly, and it caught him a little by surprise. As he struggled to regain his focus, he saw that Willow was surprised at well. Enjoying herself, enjoying the feel of the Power, but surprised all the same. Sliding back into his rhythm, he smiled and allowed himself to appreciate the Power as well.

It swirled around the room, seeping into their bodies in a process not unlike osmosis. It was a beginning. He could feel it starting to build in his chest, coiling outwards. In a few moments, there would be an abrupt influx. That would be where things were decided. If either of them failed to remain focused and in control of the energies being called, the spell would not work and both would probably wind up spending the rest of their lives catatonic. If they were lucky.

They finished their chants at the same moment and fell silent, staring at each other and waiting for what was to come. Giles drew a series of deep breaths, steeling himself. Willow remained still, not breathing or blinking as she regarded her friend. The amount of trust he was placing in her here was massive. She knew that without having to be told. She knew as well as he did the dangers involved in harnessing this much energy. That Giles had so much faith in her gave her faith in herself.

The energy in the room increased abruptly, exponentially. The candles went out and objects flew from their shelves. Willow and Giles grasped hands tightly to avoid being knocked apart and began chanting again, ignoring the Power that was deluging them. It flooded inwards, like fire in their veins, saturating them down to the cellular level. Pain deeper than either had ever felt before threatened to overwhelm and bring with it oblivion, but they were both accustomed to pain and both had been trained to largely ignore it. They fought the pain and won. Breathing raggedly, they stared at each other with wide eyes and completed the spell in shaky voices.

Giles nodded weakly in Willow's direction with obvious approval. It was time. They kept their hands firmly wrapped in each other but moved them outwards, allowing them to look down. Into the mirror. The black surface twinkled up at them. The smell of burning cedar and bay was heavy in the air, the smoke wafting through the darkness. It floated above the mirror, reflected and distorted. Giles felt a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to end this before it began. He had absolutely no desire to see whatever this mirror had to show them, none at all. He looked up at Willow and saw that she seemed to be entertaining roughly the same impulse.

Can you do this? Do you still want to? he sent telepathically.

Definitely don't want to, Giles. Have to, though.

Giles nodded and dipped his eyes in the direction of the mirror, indicating that it was time to begin. They leaned towards each other until their foreheads were touching. Giles gave Willow a last, encouraging smile, then dropped his eyes to the mirror, studying the shapes there.

Willow was grateful for that smile even though she knew that he was as concerned about this as she was. This was not a spell to be taken lightly, and even two as powerful as they should never have attempted it. But they had good cause to, she knew. Cassandra knew things, and if this had her worried then it must have been bad. They had to know what was coming if they were going to stop it. She took a deep breath and dropped her own gaze to the mirror.

She saw her own eyes distorted in the mirror, and his eyes, reflected clearly. Their faces were not so clearly reflected, distorted beyond recognition. Shapes were visible, though, in the smooth black surface. The smoke and their own reflections were distorted into a number of shapes that Willow was growing to hate. A cross, a steeple, an hourglass. And was that a cradle?

"Twenty centuries of stony sleep were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle," Giles whispered, staring at the cradle-like shape.

"What rough beast?" she breathed, never taking her eyes from the shifting shapes in the mirror. "And what rough beast, its hour come 'round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?" she demanded.

"Show yourself!" Giles commanded in a voice that, while quiet, echoed throughout the room.

The distorted images reflected in the surface of the mirror began to shift. Then the black surface itself began to shift, swirling and rippling in the frame like water. They watched avidly, tightening their grip on each other's hands and leaning closer, trying to divine the true nature of the nebulous, shifting patterns.

There was an abrupt falling sensation, tearing cries from both of them as they tumbled downwards, clutching each other for dear life. They landed on a surface that was both solid and strangely yielding. Sand, Giles realized. It was completely dark. Hugging each other close, neither could see a thing.

"What happened? Where are we?" Willow whispered frantically.

"I don't know. Something went wrong, it must have."

"We're in the mirror," Willow realized, pulling away slightly but not relinquishing her hold on him.

Giles frowned, aware that she was probably right but wishing that she might be wrong. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

"I know. Somehow the spell worked… differently than it should have."

It had to be the greatest understatement he had ever heard, but he did not comment on it. "We must find a way out."

"No!"

"What?" He stared at where he knew she must have been, stunned by her protest. "Willow, we can't very well stay."

"We have to, don't you see? We're inside a black mirror, Giles. They're powerful articles, links between the past, present, and future."

Giles considered this for a moment. "Maybe the spell did work, then, better than we could have hoped. Perhaps we can find out what we're up against here."

"Right." Willow nodded, releasing one hand and reaching to touch his face. "We have to do this, Giles." She took a deep breath before continuing. "I am so scared, Giles, but we have to do this. For Buffy and every other member of the human race."

The voice that answered was not the voice she expected.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, baby. Not here."

In spite of the pitch darkness, Willow stared in the direction of the voice, too stunned to speak.

Giles was stunned as well, but still managed a very shaky, "Tara?"

***

"It's so cool that Giles is back!" Dawn enthused as she followed Buffy into the house. "Do you think he'll stay?"

"I honestly don't know, Dawn." Buffy shrugged and walked into the kitchen. "You hungry?" she asked before continuing. "The impression I got from him is that he's only staying through the apocalypse. But he does seem to really miss us, so who knows."

"It would be great if he could stay," Dawn said, sighing and sitting down at the counter. "I mean… after mom died, he was always there, you know?"

Buffy nodded. "I remember. I don't know what we would have done without him." She shook her head, her expression reflective. "It's strange, Dawnie. Giles was always there for us, you know? More than our own father or any other guy we were related to, he was there."

"I know." Dawn sighed and nodded. "I miss him so much sometimes."

Buffy nodded and walked over to the cabinet, pulling down a glass and pouring herself some water. "Me, too. He might still be napping, but if you want to go see if he's up yet you can. I'll make us a snack to tide us over until dinner."

Dawn grinned and nodded. "Okay, Buffy." She rose and half-skipped from the room.

Buffy watched her go. She had spent a lot of time dwelling on how much she missed Giles, sometimes managing to forget that he had been an integral part of Dawn's life as well. Giles had been very much like a father to both of them, more so than their own father had been even when he had still been married to their mother. But Giles had also been more than a father, at least to Buffy. He had been a friend and a confidant, someone she could go to and confide in no matter what. Having him back would have been wonderful, and she hoped she would be able to convince him to stay.

He had been acting strange, she realized, frowning. Not just tired as he had said. Definitely sad. Something was nothing him. A lot. She resolved to discuss it with him at the first available opportunity. It was the least she could do for a man who had always been there when she was sad or upset. He had been so many things to her, father, friend, teacher. Whatever she had needed exactly when she had needed it. Having him in England had made her realize that she really had taken his presence for-granted. She was determined to change that now.

"Buffy!"

She dropped the glass she was still holding at the sound of Dawn's scream, not even noticing when it shattered, spilling water and broken glass over the floor. Heart pounding, she raced from the kitchen and up the stairs. She found Dawn standing in the doorway into Willow's room, her expression stunned and horrified.

"What is it?" Buffy asked quickly, looking over her shoulder.

She gasped at the sight that met her eyes, pushing past Dawn. The bedroom was in shambles. It looked as though a small tornado had whipped through it. Willow and Giles were lying on the floor, hands clasped together, their eyes opened but glazed. For one horrible moment, she was sure that neither was breathing. To her relief, she saw that they were breathing, just very slowly and shallowly. Bending over and feeling their pulses, she became aware that their skin was like ice and strangely waxy.

"They were doing a spell," Dawn told Buffy quietly, pointing to the brazier and the candles. She walked over to the brazier and inhaled deeply. "Cedar and bay leaves," she told Buffy quietly, picking up some discarded chips and leaves. "Willow once told me that they're for seeing the future…"

"Divination." Buffy allowed her hand to linger on Giles' throat long after she had finished feeling for his pulse. "They must have been… I don't know. Trying to figure out what was coming or something."

"Are they going to be okay?" Dawn asked anxiously, kneeling next to Buffy.

"I don't know," she whispered, shaking her head helplessly. She hated feeling helpless.

"Anya might know," Dawn told her. "She knows a lot about magic."

"You're right." Buffy nodded. "We should call her."

"Should we move them?"

"I don't think so. I don't want to risk it." Buffy shook her head.

Dawn nodded. "Okay. I'll stay with them for you while you call her."

Buffy nodded and reluctantly rose, staring down at her friends for several moments before turning and fleeing the room.