Giles stopped Grey on his way to Willow's. The auror had the box in his hand. He had just finished a tearful reunion with his mother. They had pointedly avoided mentioning his scars, but otherwise it had gone well.
"Grey, I'm glad I caught you. Might I have a word?"
"Sure."
"I have been meaning to speak with you and Willow. Are you headed there now?" Grey nodded. "Perhaps I might join you?" He nodded again and they walked to Willow's door. A painting of an elderly English woman covered the door. Though he knew the password, Grey knocked to avoid disturbing Willow. She came to the door and invited both men to enter.
"What's up, guys?" She asked, sitting down on her bed. Grey and Giles each took a chair opposite her.
"I rather hoped I might speak with you about a difficult subject," Giles began. "We need help here. That woman who attacked on Halloween had more power than any of us. If not for Grey, I fear we might have been killed very easily. I must know who she is."
Grey and Willow looked at each other.
"He has to know, Grey. We can't prepare for what she might do otherwise. And Giles is the king of research," Willow said. "If anyone can find what you're looking for, it's him." Grey nodded.
"Giles, promise me this stays between us." The Watcher agreed. "Her name is Jess O'Brien…" The story, including the dance at Halloween, took nearly an hour. At the end, Giles' face reflected pity and sadness.
"I can see why you were so perturbed by Willow," he said. "I feared it might be something such as that. Her power is overwhelming. Willow, we cannot train you to effectively counter her. It would take years, and none of us has the dark magic expertise that Voldemort does."
"I know," she said, instantly deciding to hide her belief that she had the greater power. "We have to try, though, Giles."
"Of course, my dear. For your own sake, if nothing else." The Watcher mentally replayed what he had heard. "From what Willow said earlier, I gather you are the one responsible for usurping my research team?"
Willow said "Research team?" at the same as Grey said "Yes." The auror glanced sideways at her.
"You didn't know Giles had Hermione and the kids doing research?" Grey asked. Willow shook her head. She wondered what they had been researching. Probably her, she figured.
"What are they looking for, specifically?"
"A way to cure Jess. The most promising lead centers around removing her magic completely." Giles removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"That would be a dangerous exercise for everyone involved. I don't believe she would live through it."
"That's what Hermione said. She's checking," Grey confirmed.
"Yes, well, I will of course assist her. That seems more of a long-term solution, however. I wanted to propose a more immediate one to you, Willow. I suspect you would rather Grey leave the room before I tell you."
Willow looked hard at Giles. She had known the man for almost seven years. She knew he would suggest something that would cause them great difficulty, and she suspected its nature.
"Grey, please?" He stared at her, as if memorizing her face.
"Of course. I'll be outside." He left, closing the door tightly behind him.
"He's quite a good man," Giles said, astonished that the auror had put up no fight about leaving. He clearly trusted Willow's judgment. "You're very lucky."
"I know," she said thoughtfully. "I've been very lucky three times now. Four, if you count Xander."
"I assure you, my dear, it is not undeserved." She beamed.
"Glad you approve, Giles. Now, what's the hot and heavy?" Giles took a deep breath.
"When the incident at Harry's occurred. I sent a letter to Tara." Willow paled, her suspicions confirmed. "I wanted her to come and help with your training."
"And be here in case I totally wigged." Willow's voice would have been drowned out by a light breeze.
"Yes," Giles admitted. "But you did not. And she refused, at any rate. I had Buffy and Dawn attempt to convince her, but both failed." Willow nodded. Tara would be afraid that she would ignite Willow's fury. "Fortunately, we are now at a point where I do not believe, at least for the time being, that Tara is necessary for that reason. You have done admirably; both the wand and your association with Grey have allowed you to acquit yourself well. I am quite proud of you for that, you know."
"Thanks, Giles," she said.
"However, I do believe we now require Tara's services for another purpose; specifically, to counter the power of this dark sorceress. You and Tara are a combined force greater than she."
"She'll never come," Willow said, her emotion on the verge of exploding. "She won't believe me and she'll know about things with Grey and worry about screwing them up. Besides that, I think she hates me …" She burst into tears. Giles moved to the bed and put an arm around her shoulders.
"She does not hate you, Willow. I rather think the reason she refused to join us was that she feared losing you altogether. She still cares about you a great deal. If she does come, however, it could cause a problem between you and Mr. Grey."
Willow cried harder, thinking of how painful that choice would be. Would Tara take her all the way back? Did she want her to? Giles interrupted her tears with a dose of reality.
"The truth is, Willow, and I believe Grey will say the same thing, the safety of the students outweighs the personal problems this may cause for the two of you. We need Tara." As she heard it, Willow felt in her heart that he was right. She finished crying and wiped the tears away.
"H-how will we convince her?" Willow sniffled. Pride coursed through Giles. He could always count on his students to make the correct choices over the easy ones.
"Spike had an interesting idea on that front."
"Spike?"
"He suggested we allow Grey to ask her."
Giles was long gone. Grey had returned, hardly surprised to find Willow crying. They explained Giles' idea, and Grey agreed that the awkwardness could not be allowed to interfere with protecting the children. In his own heart, he began to prepare himself for Willow's inevitable return to Tara. The process would be painful, but he reminded himself that since Jess had left, he had been a creature of pain. After surviving that, he could survive anything.
The voice in the back of his head mocked him for his foolishness.
"Are you sure you want this?" Grey finally asked her when they were alone. He knew the pain it would cause her. She shifted in his arms, her cotton shirt softly rasping against his sweatshirt. He was lying on her right, with his right arm across her.
"Yes," she said firmly. "But I won't force you to go to her."
"I'll do it," he agreed. "This is larger than us." They went silent for a short time before he spoke again. "If things … if she wants you back … you love her. I won't stand in the way. I'll always be your friend, no matter what." She could feel his tears on the back of her neck.
"While Giles explained this to you, I thought about it." She twisted and faced him. "Part of me will always love Tara, and I desperately want to be friends with her. But she left when I lost control, and now I feel like true love would never abide that. I'll always wonder if she would leave again. With you, it's so different. You didn't leave; you never would. No matter what you had to do to bring me under control, you wouldn't abandon me."
She kissed his cheek softly, tasting salty tears. Large green eyes reached out and seized brown ones. "I know, because I saw you with Jess. She tortured you twice, the second time just to kill you slower. But you didn't hesitate to tell Giles that you wanted to cure her. You haven't been out of the hospital for a week, and the rescue is on. That's something beyond unbelievable. It's almost impossible. I need it. I need you." They kissed tenderly, tears intermingling, and held each other. Grey had never been so happy. In his euphoria, he completely missed her implication about true love.
Hours later, they were still lying in Willow's bed fully clothed, their earlier hunger for each other tempered by the day's intense emotions. He had explained about his conversations with his father and mother.
"Thank you," she whispered. He knew she meant for Tara, and for everything else.
"Anything for you."
"This will be hard."
"Probably. I'll just do the silent routine and not tell her anything about why I'm there." Willow giggled. She burrowed in closer to his chest. He felt so safe and warm that she never wanted to leave.
"Hey, I want to know something."
"What?"
"What's in that box? The one you brought here?"
"Oh!" He said. "With all the plotting and heavy thoughts, I forgot to show you." He was suddenly giddy. She had never seen that before. It looked good on him. He reached over and lifted it off her nightstand; they sat up, stiff from the reclining, and he set it between them.
"My father brought this. It belonged to my grandfather." He opened the box, revealing the silver cylinder. She gasped. "A friend of his told him that I would need it one day."
"Grey, it's so beautiful." She looked at him and, receiving his affirmation, reached in and lifted it from the case. The metal was worn and scratched, with handgrips carved along its length. It was a thing of deadly precision, well used and immaculately kept.
"An elegant weapon, from a more civilized age," he quoted. He saw a hint of brown under the dark velvet and reached into the box. His hand came out holding a leather loop.
"What's that?" She asked.
"Must be a holster for it." He stretched it out, taking in the blood and sweat stains that were his grandfather's. It had two sections, and a buckle to adjust the size.
"Put it on," she said. He removed his sweatshirt and slid it on over his t-shirt. It took a minute to decide where his head went, but he eventually figured it out. She reached up and adjusted the buckle. A looped portion hung off his right hip. She handed him the lightsaber and he slid it in. He replaced his sweatshirt and stepped away.
"Well?" It looked so perfect, she almost couldn't find the words. She knew, somehow, that he was meant to wear it.
"You look so right like that," she said simply.
"I'm not worthy of it. My grandfather … my father, even … so talented. True heroes. I'm just a guy with no magic."
"Speaking as an ex-muggle, and therefore accustomed to people with no magic, I think you're fantastic," she said. "It's kind of funny, in a way."
"What?"
"Well, Spike has been calling you 'Jedi' since Halloween. I guess he's right." She slid of the bed and put her arms around his waist. "I think you should take it off now, though." She kissed him deeply.
"Why?"
"Because," she said, kissing his throat, "it'll seriously chafe after I pull off the rest of your clothes."