Author's Note: I am really, really sorry about the horrendous delay between Chapter 8 and this one. RL has been absolutely insane just lately and my Buffy muse seems to have taken advantage of my distraction to take a protracted vacation. Well, the Bounty Hunters just returned her, so on with the story. Thank you for bearing with me for so long. :) We're on the home-stretch now!
Chapter 9 -- Answers
"You're… dead," Willow whispered, her voice shaky.
"Not exactly a permanent condition in Sunnydale, is it? You should know that as well as anyone." 'Warren' smiled bitterly at her. "How many times have you defied the Fates, witch?"
Willow narrowed her eyes. "Not nearly often enough, obviously."
"Willow," Tara whispered, shaking her head. "Don't…"
"Think, Willow," a weak voice urged from the far end of the room.
"Giles?" Willow stared at his bruised face with wide eyes. "What did they do to you?"
"Doesn't matter," he assured her gently, approaching and gratefully accepting her arm when she offered it. "Just think," he directed firmly, hanging on to her for support.
Willow looked up at 'Warren', her expression defiant. "You're not Warren. He's dead and in Hell where he belongs." She nodded firmly, hanging on to Tara and Giles, closing her eyes and feeling their skin under her hands, a tangible reminder of reality. She opened them again and stared at her challenger. "You aren't Warren," she repeated more firmly.
"Truly spoken, Seeker." 'Warren' inclined in head politely and vanished into thin air.
"God, Giles, are you okay?" Willow asked once he had gone.
"Fine, Willow," he assured her gently, nodding. "There's a lesson about keeping one's temper in check here, I think."
"A lesson one of you still needs to learn, it seems," Tinne's gentle voice interjected.
"Consider me duly chastened," he muttered.
Tinne glanced at her wristwatch with a faint smile. "Time will tell."
"Time is not something we have a lot of," Giles told her quietly.
"You always were an impatient boy," a new voice contributed.
A pretty young woman with laughing brown eyes and black hair in a long braid stepped out of the shadows. She was dressed in a pale green dress that would have looked equally at home in the 60s or in the modern day on a girl like Willow or Tara. She took the three in for a moment before her gaze settled on Giles. Shaking her head, she planted her fists against her hips and scowled at him.
"Not another fight, Rupert!" she exclaimed.
"You're not her, so don't even pretend," Giles growled.
"Actually, I am," she replied gently, stepping towards him and offering her hands.
"It's her, Giles," Tara assured him gently, nodding.
"Mum?" he whispered, taking a shaky step towards her.
"Mmm hmm." She nodded and gifted him with a loving smile. "I am so proud of you, Rupert," she whispered. "I wish I could have been there to tell you that more."
"Not your fault, it's not your fault." He shook his head, clasping her hands tightly and biting back tears.
They were the same smooth, cool hands that he remembered from his childhood. Hands that could wipe away his tears or soothe a fevered brow. Hands that could climb a tree or sew on a button with equal ease. Hands that had taught him how to fight and how to plant a rose garden, how to raise a baby animal and how to slaughter one for supper.
"My how you've grown up," she murmured, hugging him close. "You've your father's good looks. And your mother's temperament, I see by these bruises."
He hung his head, genuinely abashed by her words. "I do try to control my temper, mum. But where the safety of my friends is concerned--"
"There are better ways to guard them from harm, son," she interrupted gently. "You get yourself killed, who watches over them? Hmm? Who watched over you after I got myself killed?"
He shook his head. "Mum, it wasn't your fault."
"Of course it was. Your father was right and I should have left the slaying to the Slayer. Trying to face such a dangerous demon alone was stupid of me."
"You went after it?" he whispered, staring down at her with wide, horrified eyes.
She nodded apologetically. "I still kick myself for that. Even if I hadn't thought of myself, I should have thought of you. By the Goddess, Rupert, brought up by nannies, shipped off to that ridiculous boarding school… it's no wonder our side nearly lost you." She shook her head in disgust. "He always was a fool," she muttered. "It doesn't matter, though," she added quickly. "What matters is that, in all your years on this planet, you've yet to learn discretion. How you've managed to survive this long is quite beyond your father."
"How is he?" Giles asked stiffly.
"Still dead. Don't change the subject," she ordered.
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry." He bowed his head.
"Where you do not consider your friends, you must consider those who look to you," she told him gently, reaching up and cupping his face in her hands. "And you must be where you are needed," she added firmly, wiping away his tears as she cradled his face.
"Sunnydale?"
"You think you're truly needed in England, do you, that you even have to ask me such a thing?" She shook her head. "Your heart has always known where you should be, and with whom," she told him. "Your brain is for thinking, not rationalizing. Follow your heart, son."
He swallowed hard but nodded. "Yes, mum."
"Good lad." She smiled tenderly up at him. "Now, I have just one more thing to say, and then I have to go again."
"Do you have to?" he asked quickly, catching her hands and watching her imploringly.
"I'm afraid so." Her expression was sad and apologetic, but firm. "I am so proud of you, Rupert. I've been watching you even more closely since your first encounter with the Slayer. I was worried there for a minute when you left for England again, but I didn't have to be. Your heart knows where you belong and you are tied to Sunnydale and to your… Scooby gang." She smiled and chuckled softly, shaking her head. "You remember what I used to tell you? About Faith?"
"Faith makes all things possible," he recited quietly. "But it does not always make them easy."
"Wonderful. You remember." She stood on her tiptoes and gently kissed his cheek and whispering in his ear, "I love you and I am so proud of everything you have accomplished in this life. Keep down this path you have set yourself on and always trust your own heart. Best you got of me, that heart of yours. Follow it, trust it, use it. Have Faith in it. Always have Faith."
"Always," he promised her, nodding and bending to kiss her cheek. "I love you, mum."
"I love you, too, Rupert. Now… go. You have an apocalypse to prevent." She made a shooing motion with her hands before turning and leaving the room through the far wall.
Giles let out a small sigh, shaking his head.
"That was your mom?" Willow whispered. "She died fighting a demon?"
He nodded. "A vengeance demon. It was laying waste to a small community in Ireland. She went to investigate. She was not supposed to confront it herself, just gather information until the Slayer arrived." He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Very much like me, always impatient and wanting to take on the world single-handed." He exhaled slowly. "And it got her killed. Now there is a lesson in self-restraint."
"Indeed so," 'Tinne' agreed quietly. "You should travel on now. The Oracle grows impatient. You may find her in the library." She gestured towards the far door and promptly vanished in a puff of smoke.
"That's, what? Two challenges down?" Willow asked as they crossed the room.
"Yes." Giles nodded. "Honesty and self-restraint."
Tara did not bother to point out that they were wrong, that they had each, more than once, been challenged from within, to overcome fear or anger or regret… They would grow to understand that in time and be stronger for it.
"So what does that leave?" Willow wondered aloud.
"Trial by fire, no doubt," Giles muttered.
"Now there is a thought!"
"Morgaine," he greeted their newest challenger with a resigned sigh, shaking his head. "It was a joke, you know."
She shrugged. "Well, I am running short on ideas. You played twenty questions at the door, got yourself beaten to a pulp in the dungeon… fire sounds like fun."
"Couldn't we just have an in-depth discussion of those Harry Potter books you like so much?" Giles suggested.
"Literary trivia, fun! The lamb is also the lion."
Giles frowned, wondering what it was with Coven members and Christian imagery these days. "I beg your pardon?"
"Why does that sound familiar?" Willow asked quietly, thinking hard.
Morgaine tilted her head thoughtfully at Willow for a moment, then sat back and began whistling the Jeopardy tune.
"CS Lewis," Willow announced after a moment. "Aslan. He could turn into a lamb sometimes."
"Very good." 'Morgaine' smiled at her.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Giles asked, taking a deep breath.
"Oh, nothing," she admitted with a shrug. "Just stalling for time." She laughed softly when his eyes began darting around, searching the shadowed recesses of the meeting-hall for enemies. "You always so distrustful of others?"
"As a general rule, yes." Giles nodded and continued looking around.
"Relax. I'm just stalling because I hate this next part."
Giles' frown deepened at those words. "Do you?"
'Morgaine' nodded faintly. "Tara, it's time."
"Can I have a minute to say good bye?" Tara asked hopefully.
"Yes, but be quick. The Oracle grows impatient."
Tara nodded and turned to face Willow and Giles. "I can't stay," she told them apologetically, shaking her head. She gave Giles a quick peck on the cheek before turning to Willow. Both women had tears in their eyes. "I still sing to you," she whispered.
"Baby…" Willow whispered, pulling her into a hug. "Damn, I miss you so bad."
"I know you do. I miss you, too. Just try to remember that I'm not gone. I'm there when you need me." Tara pulled away far enough to rest one hand on Willow's heart. "And here the rest of the time. We will see each other again, I promise you."
"Just not in this life," Willow whispered through her tears.
"No, probably not. But in the next one." She squeezed Willow tightly for another few moments before pulling away completely. "You are the best thing that ever happened to me."
"So are you," Willow told her, reaching up and smoothing away her tears. "I love you."
"I love you, too." She paused, listening to the voices that only she could hear. "I have to go now. Good bye, Willow."
"Bye, Baby." Willow closed her eyes and when she opened them again, Tara was gone. She threw herself into Giles' waiting arms, sobbing.
"A girl could do far worse for a guardian angel," he whispered into her hair, hugging her close and rocking her.
'Morgaine' watched in silence until Willow's sobs had turned to sniffles. "It's time," she whispered.
Willow and Giles both looked at her, neither relinquishing their grasp on the other.
"Time for what?" Giles asked cautiously.
"Call it a trial by fire," 'Morgaine' suggested. "No actual fire, but…" She shrugged. "You must face this challenge alone. Who will be first?"
"I will," Willow offered, stepping out of his arms.
"No!" Giles protested. "Willow…"
She shook her head and looked up at him. "I'll have to do this either way. Might as well get it over with."
"Yes, but… are you thinking clearly enough?"
She nodded slowly. "Oddly enough, I really am. I… I got a chance to say good bye this time, Giles," she whispered, smiling up at him. "I never got a chance to before, but now I have…" She nodded more firmly. "I'm fine. I got a chance to say good bye. I'm fine."
"Okay." Giles nodded slowly and gently kissed her cheek. "Go ahead, then."
'Morgaine' rose and extended her hands to Willow. "Come, Seeker."
Willow nodded and slipped her hands into hers. "Let's get this over with," she muttered as the two vanish.
Giles cursed and took a step towards where they had been. "Damn it!" he shouted.
"Cup of chamomile tea would do you a lot of good, I think."
"Coll?" he asked, turning to face the boy.
"Not really." He gave a faint shrug. "Hardly matters, though. Your trial awaits."
"Lovely," Giles sighed, squaring his shoulders and taking the boy's hands. He abruptly found himself standing in the old Sunnydale High library. Frowning, he looked around. "Well?" he asked 'Coll'.
"These mirrors are a link between the past, present, and future."
"I know that." Giles nodded.
"In a few minutes, a young lady will come through those doors in search of a book."
"Buffy," he realized, paling.
"Merrick has just died. She never wants to see another vampire as long as she lives."
"I don't blame her," he whispered.
"It lies in your power not to force her Destiny upon her."
Giles shook his head. "No," he protested. How many times had he wished that it was in his power to free Buffy from the burden placed on her? She was so young, could have been so happy… "If I don't… All those lives she's saved… What would happen to those people?" he whispered harshly. Buffy had saved so many lives, Willow and Xander and too many others to count.
"Some will live. Who's to say how many? Time will tell."
He shook his head, torn between the irrational desire to offer up all of those lives in exchange for one girl's happiness and the knowledge of the kind of horrors that might be unleashed if he did. Irrational, the desire to let Buffy become a normal teenager again was overwhelming.
So many things had been denied her because of her Calling, so many more taken away… He wanted her to have them all.
"We want the people we love to be happy," Coll observed quietly.
"Yes. Yes, we do," Giles agreed, nodding and moving to stand behind the front desk as a pretty blonde girl entered.
"Hey, I need a book…"
Swallowing hard and mentally cursing himself, Giles reached under the desk and extracted a volume, closing his eyes as he slid it across the wooden surface to her.
"Thanks, I've been looking for that," a familiar voice said.
His eyes shot open as Cassandra plucked the book about Vampires from his hands. He was in the library of the Standing Stones. Shaking, he sunk into the nearest chair.
"You actually considered giving her that history textbook, didn't you?" Cassandra asked, shelving the volume and pouring herself a drink.
"Of course I did," he muttered, fighting the urge to be ill.
"It can't have been an easy decision."
"It should have been!" he retorted. "Selfish bastard that I am, I actually considered offering up an entire city to the slaughter in exchange for one girl's happiness."
"World, the entire world, Rupert," she corrected him gently. "Buffy has saved it more than once."
"Thanks for reminding me," he replied sullenly, rubbing his forehead.
"You miss the point," 'Tinne' informed him quietly.
"Do I?" he whispered, shaking his head. "What are you going to make poor Willow decide?"
"She may tell you this if she so desires. We will not share it." 'Tinne' shook her head. "If the decision had not been difficult for you, the test would have lost meaning. You demonstrated a greater love in depriving her of her happiness. She's saved the world more than once. Happy or not, she would be no less dead."
"So why do I still feel like an evil person for denying her happiness?"
"You served the greater good. You have proved that you love all mankind, not just her. Perhaps, in time, this thought will give you some comfort."
"Maybe," Giles sighed. "In time." He looked up as the library door opened and 'Morgaine' ushered a shaken-looking Willow inside. Rising, he swiftly crossed the room to her. "Are you okay?" he asked gently.
She nodded, hesitantly at first and then again with more firmness. "Yeah. I did the right thing. Wasn't easy, but I did." She looked past Giles to 'Cassandra'. "Hi."
"Well done, child. It's good to see that Tara's faith in you wasn't misplaced."
"She could have warned me that it would be about her," Willow noted quietly.
'Cassandra' shrugged. "Come, both of you. We have much to discuss." She turned and approached the fireplace, picking up a book as she walked past the table.
Opening it, she recited:
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
She snapped the book closed and looked up at them. "An ancient evil slumbers beneath Sunnydale, waiting. When it awakes, and it will soon, it will be in a position to trigger the apocalypse."
"We knew all that," Giles pointed out quietly.
Cassandra nodded and pointed towards a table bearing an open atlas. "It is poisoning the land, pushing things ever so subtly out of alignment."
Giles looked down at the atlas, mentally memorizing the area that was circled in red. "What is it? A demon or a demigod or--"
"A demon. For now."
"With the potential to become more powerful?"
"Far more powerful," Cassandra agreed. "You must kill it before it begins to feed. This has the potential to make an Ascension look like a stroll in the park."