So, yeah, I haven't dropped off the face of the Earth - though it's felt like it sometimes. Time is moving too fast and too slow at the same time, it's a strange sensation. Anyway, I finally cracked through the nasty writer's block; it's been a slow and frustrating process but I'm pretty happy with how it's turned out. Hopefully you'll be too :) I want to thank everyone for the words of encouragement, they really do mean a lot. In case it wasn't obvious, some of the dialogue here is borrowed. And with good reason.
Chapter Twenty-One
It was yet another blistering hot morning. The sun was a white golden smudge in the hazy sky, casting the streets below in a sticky sheen. It was the close kind of heat that came with the tantalizing promise of imminent rain. And it usually heralded the start of a long and lazy summer.
Entirely too hot, Willow had decided, to be stuck in school. Especially since she really didn't have to be there anymore. She never thought she would tire of the library, but the sneaking around got a bit tedious after so long, and she was fed up of dodging the unfamiliar teachers and all-too familiar students.
She skirted to the edge of the sidewalk, dropped her bag at her feet and peeled away the pink cardigan from her damp shoulders. Leaning back, she pressed her now bare arms against the brick in the hope of leeching some coolness from within.
It was a day to be lying in the scalding sand; breathing in the fresh, salty air; falling and jumping in the warm surf of breaking waves. She tilted her head up, eyes slipping shut as she let the sunshine bathe her face with the familiar touch of an old friend. Buffy would've no doubt been bouncing around; girl could never keep still, all that Slayer energy running riot.
"Oh yeah. Go team me!" Buffy grinned and did a little victory dance with football, sarong flapping about her legs in the ocean breeze.
Xander would put himself in charge of the barbeque, despite the fact he nearly ignited the kitchen just making pancakes that time…
"The, uh, fire's not cooperating. It's comforting to know that I lack the culinary finesse of a caveman."
Willow jerked straight so quickly she nearly cracked her head on the wall. Shaking away the futile daydream she scooped up her bag, tied the cardigan around her waist and turned away towards Main Street.
Shopping.
It had sounded like a good plan; a day in town, fresh surroundings and a break from routine. Jenny had promised she would contact her if the event of any mayhem, intrigue or fresh tragedy breaking out, so Willow felt at relative ease to enjoy her authorised escape.
She headed for one of her favourite spots: a second-hand bookshop she had discovered last year and had since made a habit of checking in on every few weeks, in search of hidden treasures. She'd found a weathered edition of 'Alice Through the Looking Glass' once, full of rare illustrations, along with collections of poetry from Yeats to Sylvia Plath and Alfred Noyes. The little man who ran it was quite grouchy, in the way of those who prefer orderly quiet over the chaos of other people, but she liked to think he'd actually started to warm to her over her frequent trips, and had even agreed to try and track down a first edition she had been looking to get for Giles's birthday.
She rounded the corner to the lane she had so often visited, and stopped short. Her face fell at the sight of boarded up windows and crumbling brick that greeted her. She stared at the faded sign which announced that the establishment had been a Pawnshop previously, rather than the cluttered, antique book store she had known.
Willow shook her head and snapped her mouth shut. Right. Not her world.
It was stupid that despite all the glaring differences, she still managed to forget sometimes. If there was one thing life had taught her repeatedly, it was that denial-land was a dangerous place to live in. She had to quit thinking like that. She had to stop clinging to what was gone. Her eyes fell to the ground as she wondered when - or even if - this strange and distorted world would ever feel like home.
Pulling herself away, she let her feet take her back into the heart of town, where hopefully there would be more people and shops she could lose herself in. Though she was reluctant to actually use the spending money Jenny had thrust into her hands that morning, she found it burning a hole in her pocket as she wandered through town. By the time she passed an ice-cream van at the edge of the park, her purse was practically a lead weight against her body, begging to be lightened. She hesitated for a moment before her feet turned to skip across the road, coins cool against her palm.
~o~
The rainbow stripes of her ice lolly glittered in the muggy sunlight as it filtered through the trees and fell across the park path in dappled pools. The green shade was almost as refreshing as the icy sweet and Willow stretched her arm and ran her hand over the leaves as she walked, catching the soft pads between her fingers and drinking in the sounds around her. A lazy smile filled her face as she looked over the grass and took another bite.
The sunlight was safe. She could see it in their faces. Friends laughed and lounged about on benches; a college student had spread out her books on the grass, bagel in one hand and glasses perched on her nose. Willow smiled at a passing couple and the excitable Labrador with them as it ran over to give her a cursory appraisal and receive a quick pat before dashing ahead along the path. Her plimsolls danced along the ground as she twisted and twirled around, trying to see everything all at once.
It was unbelievably good to see people. Just people. To watch them getting on with their lives, talking and arguing and rushing to meetings, studying and hanging out. Humans really were remarkably resilient when she thought about it. They could and would build lives for themselves anywhere, even on a mouth to Hell that was getting wider every day. And they would survive and carry on against all the odds; because that was what they did best. They worried about bills and deadlines and forgotten birthdays and school gossip when the world stood on a knife edge around them... and that was what made them wonderful. Willow knew how brief all their mortal lives flickered next to the existence of other creatures, but they could cram so much into such a bright spark.
Okay, so they weren't the most perceptive as species went. Fair enough. But as she looked around, she could tell that on some instinctive level the people here knew that the sun was their best ally in the blood-stained battleground they stood on. How many people had lost their lives between these very trees in nights past? She shuddered as she recalled her first patrol here, in a park so very similar to this. Yet the sunshine drove the monsters back into the shadows; forced away the nameless darkness that stalked their streets and had touched every heart with loss and fear. The people of this Sunnydale had come far closer to the void of Hell than they had ever in her world. The loud laughs were tinged with a desperate bravado; their eyes never quite lost the edgy suspicion of the hunted.
Licking the last of the sweetened ice from her lips, Willow frowned thoughtfully at her sticky fingers and debated if it would look bad if she were to run back and purchase three more of the juice lollies.
Walking on aimlessly, she wondered where to go. It was a strange feeling to have this sense of rootless freedom. She was a ghost. A displaced identity. She had no obligations or responsibilities, no claim to her own history in this world, no right to exist here - filling a dead girl's shoes.
Willow quickly shook off the morbid thoughts that too often overran her head these days. If she pondered the ins and outs of her own paradox much more, she might think herself right out of existence.
She could do anything really. Yeah, that was a better way of looking at it. She had fresh start; endless new and old possibilities to explore; she was the master of her future - hadn't she already proved that? Mistake or not, this was her path now. And it was more than a little daunting. Who was she when she couldn't be Xander's best friend? What would she be when she was no longer the Slayer's sidekick? Willow straightened her shoulders bravely and tightened her grip on the bag strap across her chest. Time to find out.
Besides, she thought as she looked back across the open park, it was kinda nice to have the opportunity to do whatever she wanted during the day. Dodging a wayward child, she cut onto another path that led back out. The scent of spring flowers and sun-warmed grass filled the heavy air with fragrance, and she smiled a little drunkenly as she soaked it in.
Leaving the cool shade of the park behind, she plunged back into the noisy streets. The shops were getting a little busier with the influx of workers on their lunch hours. She ducked into a video store on the corner and indulged in a mindless browse of their selections, pausing as she spotted an ex-rental copy of 'The Mask' for sale. Smiling, she let her fingers brush against the cover as she thought of Mike and his recent confession of addiction to all things Jim Carrey. Shame he was stuck in school just now.
Another thought struck her then: was this what it felt like to play truant? With a start, she suddenly realised that although she still spent the majority of her time in school, she hadn't actually attended any classes for weeks. She wasn't technically a student anymore. The thought was frighteningly sobering. Did that make her a drop-out? But it wasn't as if she could enrol anyway, how - Stop it. With a deep sigh, the straight-A student lifted her chin with determination and pushed the panic reflex down into a very small ball in the corner of her mind. She had bigger things to worry about, right? After all, she'd already broken perhaps one of the most important rules in the universe; a little skiving was nothing. A small grin wavered on her lips. Hell yeah, she was a rebel now. She picked up the video and took it to the counter.
As it turned out, this newly discovered rebellious streak lasted about another forty minutes before giving in to old habits.
~o~
"Yes, everything's fine. Stop trying to jinx it with all this worry." Jenny's voice held a note of tired amusement, like she couldn't decide whether to sigh or laugh at her.
Willow adjusted the payphone in the crook of her shoulder as she dug around in her purse for more coins should she need them. "Oh, that's good. I'm mean, are you sure? No out-of-the-ordinary weirdness? No poltergeists in the lockers? Zombies in the science lab? Mutant fish in the pool-?" she babbled on in a rush, oblivious to Jenny's slightly baffled silence at the other end.
"Um, not that I've noticed. It's been a slow morning. But I suppose the day's not over yet; we could still get lucky."
"Okay, but you'll let me know if anything happens, right? Oh and I forgot to tell you, I bookmarked some sites on the computer the other day that looked promising; I was going to have a look at them later. Some old archive records. And do you know if Giles found anything in—"
"I can see your plan of getting a break from the library has been a rousing success," the teacher cut in dryly.
"Uh… consider this a relapse."
"Hmm."
"I am having a good time, honest! Shopping and sugar and all that – it's great. But… everyone's okay? Sure you don't need me?"
"Willow…"
"Just checking. Shallow indulgence is only fun when it's guilt-free, y'know."
She heard her friend sigh through the phone but when she spoke again there was a faint smile in her words. "I despair of you lot sometimes. Really, you're still young and full of energy - you're supposed to be good at this kind of thing. Look, I've got another class starting soon. Go. Have you had any lunch yet? Don't obsess; try to relax – that's an order, okay – and I'll see you tonight. Oh, and if you get a chance can you pick up something for dinner? I don't think I have much in, unless you find frozen pastry and cloves a strangely appetizing combination."
Willow grinned. "Yeah, no problem. And don't worry about me. Back on the joy train, I swear."
"Good." There was a pause. "Just… be careful, okay?"
"I will. Say hi to Giles for me."
~o~
Bolstered by Jenny's assurances, Willow proceeded to take full advantage of the time to re-acquaint herself with the streets of this second Sunnydale. She tried to note all the little changes she came across, the new shops and changed buildings, and used it all to re-write her mental map of the town. Always know the layout of your terrain. He'd said that once in the middle of a hasty battle discussion. It was all that residual military knowledge slipping out at random times. Her mind reluctantly flashed to a distant Halloween night; her friend in a soldier's uniform; army bases and stolen rocket launchers. It was a good point. Another common principle of war was to know your enemy.
However, she made a conscious effort to avoid the streets surrounding the Bronze as she continued her explorations. That area of town was pretty quiet anyway, its reputation well known and the urge to steer clear engrained into people's instincts. The air didn't feel right there, tinged with stale blood and fear; the threatening darkness un-dampened by the sun. No-one ventured there without a death wish and Willow wasn't ready to give up on this life just yet.
Her stomach grumbled loudly, catching her by surprise with the realisation that she had eaten nothing since the ice lolly this morning. Jenny's earlier suggestion of lunch suddenly seemed like a very appealing idea. Stepping back out onto the baking street, she turned her feet in search of a source of edible goodness.
Now that she was thinking of food, she was in a hurry to get some. Hunger gnawed at her insides with impatience so she headed for the nearest place she could think of. She carefully averted her eyes as she passed the closed up Sun Cinema, the forlorn building holding too many memories, and walked on until she stepped into the open interior of Espresso Pump. A quick order later and Willow was settling down at a round table with an iced coffee, savoury pretzel and large blueberry muffin. Maybe it wasn't the healthiest of meals but she was going for energy over substance right now. She laid the bags with Mike's video along with her other purchases between her feet and took a ravenous bite of the salty dough.
Opening the book she had just bought about the English Civil War, she propped her chin in her palm and prepared to lose her thoughts in bloody, political intrigue. She seemed to have developed quite a fondness for European history and was steadily working her way through the reigns of the various monarchs. She loved the way seemingly little events impacted on the waves of history, made by ordinary people who were extraordinary through their actions, beliefs or way of thinking. How single and collective choices led to movements that inspired whole nations. But she couldn't help but wonder how many more stories lay untold between the lines of the official records; how many heroes had fallen by the wayside of time?
It was fascinating to study the conflicts, inventions, science and ideologies that had shaped the world. But most of all to her, it was humbling to learn just how subjective and shaded in gray the wars of humans could be. They fought over differing ideals, how countries should be governed; rights and freedoms and love fought for in blood, deceit and betrayal until the lines blurred and the men who led the revolutions had to struggle to retain their own souls. All in the name of progress. A morality as fickle and flawed as the individuals that moulded them. All were fighting for a better future; they just couldn't agree. A sad smile moved her lips as she read on. She couldn't decide if they were luckier or not. Things were simpler for them weren't they? Fight and slay the evil; go home and eat cookies. She couldn't help but think how much smoother the revolution would have gone if Charles I had simply turned out to be a shape-shifting demon. If there was one thing that could unite bickering factions it was mutual fear of something more powerful than either. The smile turned into a silent laugh. The absurd thing was that it was perfectly possible that there had been supernatural forces at work somewhere within that milestone of history. She brushed crumbs off the page and turned over.
She blamed Giles really. He had given her a copy of 'The Tudors' last summer when she had still been recuperating from her coma. Being excluded from patrol and any heavy exertion had been bad enough, but coupled with the worry of a missing Buffy it meant she'd been a mess of anxious energy those first few weeks. As such, she had ripped her way through the massive hardback within days; soothing her whirring mind with the absorbing stories. It had proved such a good distraction that Oz had arrived the next day bearing further offerings that he'd lifted from the Watcher's personal collection - with reluctant permission of course.
Her eyes unfocused from the page, turning away into distant memories.
She remembered curling up on those long afternoons, reading so intently beside him that every so often she would snap up with an apologetic smile and reach out a hand to his, worried he would think her rude for ignoring him. He had read too, finding easy pleasure in the quiet activity and her presence. Sometimes he tuned his guitar, thumbing disjointed tunes that followed the musing tempo of his thoughts or working away on the new songs they were rehearsing. Sometimes he skipped patrol to keep her company; sometimes he brought back the stories when they met for lunch the next day, melting her disgruntled pout into a laugh as they picked at the food and she proceeded to needle him to recount all the details to satisfy her endless curiosity. She remembered walking together to Giles's; the feel of his arm securely around her waist, pulling her body against his side as she wobbled and got used to finding her feet again. She could recall all the lazy group picnics they'd shared with their friends; midnight snacks in deserted graveyards as they waited for their quarry to come out and play; trying to stay un-couplely around a melancholy Xander who was for some inexplicable reason - really missing Cordelia. Rounding off every near-successful staking with a trip to the Bronze and rewards of chocolate; nursing their bruises as Xander pushed the idea of walkie-talkies for their tracking teams and Oz offered sparing critiques on the nightly bands.
Shifting, she straightened up and pushed aside the now empty plate. Her eyes flickered between the tables as if she couldn't quite recognise her surroundings. It all seemed like a different lifetime now; part of a past that had never happened anywhere but in her own head. A whole world of adventures, fun and danger, heartache and love contained solely within her memories. Sometimes she worried the weight would crush her. It was a lot to carry on your own.
Her gaze drifted out to the street. If she squinted really hard she could almost pretend she was back home. She screwed her eyes up and cocked her head, peering through the bright sunlight and searching the scene as if by sheer force of will she could locate some crack in the universe, some almost invisible fissure between dimensions through which she could steal one last glance of her streets and sky. But there was nothing. Cars streamed past and people walked by, oblivious to the parallel lives that moved just behind the curtains of reality.
Across the street, a girl with spiky pink hair laughed and smacked her boyfriend's shoulder affectionately. He grinned, obviously pleased with the reaction to his boastful story and tugged at her waist, pulling her into a light kiss. The girl giggled as she tried to juggle her shopping bags before she gave up and dropped them to wrap her arms around his neck and enjoy the moment properly. They couldn't be more than sixteen.
Willow forced her eyes away, swallowing down the familiar burn in her throat. Never had it hurt so much to witness such easy intimacy. She hated that every loving touch and playful glance only made her own heart feel colder, shrinking in her chest until it was hard to breathe deeply. Why did the universe have to taunt her with painful reminders of what she'd lost? The young teenagers couldn't know how their brief embrace was tearing fresh holes through one girl's fragile walls.
They pulled apart enough to link their hands as they resumed walking. She couldn't help but watch the way the couple leaned into each other as if sharing whispered secrets, loose hands swinging slightly between them as they nudged each other in an affectionate tug-of-war. Flaunting what she'd possibly lost forever. Willow slumped on her stool with a frustrated sigh. At times like this it was almost unbearable to know that everything she missed; everything that could help ease the sadness which twisted through her chest like choking weeds; all that she envied about the couples around her was within tantalizing reach of her fingertips yet still completely untouchable. Like an invisible partition that divided her memory from physical reality, she could press her hand against the glass but never quite touch the other side. Every time she was left with only the empty reflections of a lost future, rippling gently back in the mirror's surface.
Drawing herself out of the depressing conundrum of her love life, Willow shoved the book back into her bag and stood up, smoothing down her skirt. She had one more stop to make before heading to the grocery store.
~o~
The little bell tinkled merrily above her head, announcing her presence to the silence as Willow stepped out of the afternoon sun and into the dark interior of the Magic shop.
Well, it wasn't really much darker than she remembered, and that just came with the same dark mahogany wood shelves and fabric curtains that draped across most of the windows to protect the sensitive products inside.
She stepped past the small cloth-covered tables, glancing down at the assorted offerings of crystals and charms, before moving into the rows of high shelves. She was curious to see the new ranges of stock the shop seemed to have acquired. As her eyes roved the stacks, the witch found she could only name less than half of the items, though some she knew by sight. She felt her eyebrows arch as she quickly processed the many additions of darker magical supplies to the Wicca store. Magic was a delicate balance to maintain for even the most experienced, things could go wrong at a snap even with the best of intentions, yet there were items here she knew could cause fatal havoc in the wrong hands - she recognised several things Giles that had made a point of warning her away from. She spotted ingredients that were common to curses and dangerous mind spells sitting next to the usual sage and acacia bark. Deceptively innocent amulets hung in cabinets, wreathed in unfathomable enchantments.
New also were the long, weapon cases against the back wall. As she peered inside she saw they included many of the traditional supplies but even more were objects she had never seen before. A shiver coursed up her spine at the sheer potential power locked away in some of these ancient sources, just waiting to be tapped. Running her fingers along the glass edge of the case, Willow realised that the entire shop was steered towards the more powerful and advanced realm of battle magic. Perhaps not unsurprisingly, she added mentally. Still, she felt a pang of nostalgia for her old, quirky magic shop with its bags of canary feathers and jars of newt eyes. It felt like magic was purely practical here; like seemingly everything else - it was a weapon.
She jumped back a step as what looked like a large, smoky black moth flung itself against the glass of its container as her hand brushed over it. The smells of mixed herbs and potions stung her nose as she worked her way back towards the middle of the shop. A crackle of nervous excitement skimmed the edge of her mind like a teasing finger-stroke. Her eyes swept across the large room; it was unlike anything she'd had access to before.
"Can I help you?"
Willow turned sharply to see the woman who had appeared at her shoulder. She had curly dark hair that fell below her shoulders and creases at the edges of her gray eyes that made her look tired and wary despite the benign smile on her lips and polite curiosity in her expression.
"Oh. Thanks, I was just having a look around." She gestured to the shelves beside them, "You've got a really… interesting collection."
"Thank you. Have you visited us before?"
"Well, I…No. No, I was just passing and thought maybe I could pick some stuff up."
"Oh, well I'm Grace. Is there is anything in particular you were looking for? We just got a new shipment of holy water and blessed Crucifixes in stock, they're our best-sellers. If you're looking for something cheaper, the garlic necklaces are popular though obviously pungent and not as durable."
"Right. Sure. Sounds like you're pretty busy huh?"
Grace gave a small shrug. "We do good business, though it's always quieter on clear days like this. We've got a special deal this week on luck charms if you're interested?"
"That's okay. Those tend to be pretty gimmicky and ineffective unless connected to a stronger power source anyway. I was thinking about getting some cedar leaf, aniseed and maybe amethyst though if you have them?"
"Yes, of course." The assistant regarded her carefully for a moment before snapping to attention and showing her over to the left hand side of the shop. This girl clearly wasn't just another scared and superstitious kid. She watched as Willow bent over the display bowls, running the herbs through her fingers with small nods of approval before picking up the sealed bags on the shelves and weighing them in her hands with a practised eye. Grace couldn't help herself. "Can I ask - how long have you been a practising Wicca?"
She thought the girl hesitated for a moment before she seemed to relax, turning to Grace with a modest smile. "Not that long. Still very much a novice really. Nothing special." She turned back to the selections before her, studying them with a small frown of assessment. "I just thought I might try something."
Grace nodded, her eyes following Willow's back to the specific herbs and plant roots her hands were slowly picking over. "If you're looking to work with calming, mental protection aids, you might want to also consider Ash bark." She reached over to produce a small bag of splintered wood from the shelf. "And Silverweed is good for invoking sleep and dream spells especially."
An almost shiver shook the girl's shoulders.
"And if you don't want to dream?"
She spoke so softly, Grace wasn't sure if she was meant to reply or not. She gave a small smile of solemn understanding. "Nightmares?"
She didn't look up. "Something like that."
Reluctantly taking the cue that she didn't want to talk about it, Grace moved towards the back of the shop. "I'll check if we have any amethyst left. It's a popular choice but you might be lucky. Be right back."
Willow nodded absently as the store assistant disappeared amongst the book cases and tables behind her. Turning the ingredients over in her hands, she tried to think if she needed anything else. It was a relatively simple spell and didn't require much but she hoped it might prove effective. Even if it only helped a little, it would be worth it. She was so tired of fighting them alone.
She walked further along the row, bending down and stretching up as she explored, making a mental inventory of possible supplies. It never hurt to be prepared. The sun shifted outside, sending streams of faint light across the shop's hardwood floor. A bright glint drew her eye to the far wall as something there caught the rays, flashing like a blinking lighthouse.
Her eyes slowly widened as she approached the object, her heart fluttering with the surge of memories. She stopped just short and simply stared, fixated on the innocent orb that sat there, oblivious to her almost reverent gaze. She recognised all too vividly the delicate glass sphere before her, which she already knew was deceptively heavy and would fit comfortably in the palm of her hand if she picked it up. Anyone could be mistaken in thinking it merely another decorative paper weight, but Willow knew better. Jenny had known better. And Angel had killed her for it. A fate the young witch could have easily shared for daring to attempt the same ancient, forgotten magic. She had never seen another one since that day.
Her breath quickened slightly, pounding through her head as she stared into the faintly white interior. She moved slowly as though in a hypnotic dream, her fingers stretching out to tentatively touch the cool, smooth surface.
Her skin had barely made contact when she glimpsed it. A golden pulsing light sparked through the globe; scorching the empty sky inside with a bright, glowing energy that spread from the centre out. It lasted only for a blink of an eye before Willow yanked her hand back so sharply she almost knocked the fragile ball to the floor.
Forcing her breathing even again, she quickly glanced her hand over, unsure what she was checking for. Maybe burn marks or something. She narrowed her eyes at the small sphere that looked exactly like it had a few seconds before, all clear and calm and so utterly normal looking that Willow doubted anything had happened at all. Her mind wasn't really something she could trust that well recently.
She was still staring suspiciously at the glass ball when Grace rejoined her.
"It's an Orb of Thesulah," she offered pleasantly, nodding towards what had captivated Willow's attention so. "Pretty thing but practically useless. The texts it relates to are untranslatable and lost to time I'm afraid." She shook her head sadly. "It's really is shocking how much of our magical heritage is allowed to fall out of knowledge."
Willow had to hide a smirk at that. Lost, yes - but not incapable of being re-discovered. It just took the right determination and the brilliant mind of a certain techno-pagan. Plus a whole lot of tragedy and dumb luck. This Wicca already knew far more about the Orb of Thesulah than she'd ever really wanted to. But now she had a new question.
She chewed her lip hesitantly before blurting it out. "Um, I don't suppose you know but - has it ever, sorta… does it ever… glow? I mean like just a random spark out the blue?" Seeing the blank frown on Grace's face she added, "I just thought I saw something when I touched it, that's all."
"Hmm. Not that I've heard of. They're just obsolete relics now, there's no power left in them." Grace's gaze turned speculative as she regarded the redhead beside her. "Have you ever come into contact with one of these before?"
She was almost sure the girl flinched this time before she quickly shook her head. "Nope. Never. I just thought it looked nice. Never mind; was probably just a trick of the light or something."
Shaking the unexpected blast from the past out of her head, Willow tore her gaze away and took the small violet gemstone Grace held out with a smile of thanks. The quartz was about half the size of her thumb and rubbed smooth into a flat pendent, but would serve well enough for her purposes. Gathering up the rest of her spell supplies, she followed the older woman back to the till where she also purchased five handy-sized bottles of holy water to add to their stock.
Grace continued to cast curious glances at the girl who chatted away with a bright smile across the counter. She couldn't put her finger on it - she wasn't nearly advanced enough - but something was out of place about the young witch; something didn't quite belong. Her aura was undeniably strong and quietly powerful, but it was strange - almost like it was slightly out of focus, blurred around the edges; colours laid on top of each other in a swirling tempest of raw energy.
And there was something else; something that was pulling and tugging insistently at the back of Grace's mind as she watched the girl push some of that blood-red hair behind her ear and pick the bag off the countertop.
"Well, thanks very much. I'd better get going."
"Yeah…" Grace watched the teenager head towards the exit, lost in thought, before she stepped around the counter and called out. "I'm sorry, but—" she paused as Willow turned back around at the open door. The older Wicca tilted her head slightly and gave her an appraising look. "Are you sure you haven't shopped here before? Your face looks so familiar."
The girl gave a quick nervous laugh, her feet almost stumbling as she backed out over the threshold. She flashed a careless smile before disappearing into the late day sun that spilled over her. "Yeah, I get that a lot."
o0o
Giles watched the shadows shift over Jenny's face as she clicked the phone down. Silence fell as the two staff members digested their own thoughts. Slowly, she turned to face him where he stood behind her; having emerged from his office mid-way through her conversation.
"Willow says 'hi'."
He nodded distractedly, looking down at the frames of his glasses as he rubbed the lenses on his blazer for what had to be the tenth time that hour. "You didn't tell her then."
Jenny crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows in challenge. "What, you think I should have?"
Giles let out a deep sigh. "We're going to have to tell them what's happening eventually. We don't know how much time we've got."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, we can't be sure—"
He shook his head, brushing aside her argument. "All the signs are pointing to this time, this place. And if the Master succeeds in opening a Gateway—"
"Is that all we're basing this on?" she snapped, harder than she'd intended. "Vague portents and speculations?"
"Jenny," he looked over to meet her steely gaze, words slow and deliberate. "You've read the same texts I have. You know what's coming."
Her expression changed, softening in mutual understanding but losing none of the determination. She unfolded her arms in a gesture of compromise. "Then we'll deal with it. We've got time – we do. We'll be ready."
Those simple words of affirmation carried more consequences than either adult cared to contemplate. Giles rubbed a hand down his face, his shoulders hunching with a shuddering sigh as he mumbled into his palm. "They're just kids. How can I ask them to fight this?"
She smiled sadly. "You don't. All we can do is give them the freedom to choose. They can all walk away at any time but, Rupert - you can't force them to. They've already done extraordinary things. Have faith in them."
"Oh, I do. And I know they're remarkable, but this world doesn't take kindly to heroes. They're in my care, my responsibility… and I keep failing them." He found her dark, exotic eyes and silently pleaded to the gentle wisdom there. His voice cracked with exhaustion. "I can't lose any more of them, Jenny."
He could see them all. Every lost face, every tragic cost; Rose with her hard blue eyes and headphones that were forever around her neck - stabbed through the ribs with her own stake as she walked home. Robin, who hid behind a cocky grin and a quick wit - tortured and finally turned in a sadistic game by the Master's favourite henchmen. He had fallen for the second time by Giles's own hand, five days later. Steph's dry humour and tattered Asian comic books that she loved to read - drained in the middle of a bitter fight before any of them had a chance to realise. Even the Slayer; pulled here by his demand only to fall along with so many others, one vicious twist snapping through her fragile neck. Larry's gruff laugh and kind heart - cut down and pulled apart in an attack by the side of the street. It went on and on. It never stopped.
Jenny could only watch him crumple before her, helpless to assure him differently. There were no promises she could make that they'd be allowed to keep. She walked over and pulled him into her arms; letting him cave in to human frailty, if only for a moment. It wrenched somewhere deep in her heart to see this wonderful man tear himself apart like this. She could see with frightening clarity how the burdens he carried were slowly killing him. Her hand gripped the back of his neck with all the silent conviction of the words she couldn't say.
With a steady breath, she forced herself to pull back and meet his eyes sternly. "We'll work through this. We'll do everything we can to protect them, but to do that we need to have a stronger picture of what's actually going on and then prepare for it. There's no point dragging them in before we have to; they have enough going on just now. And there's no way I'm having Willow rush back here in a panic on the first day I've managed to get her head out of the Hellmouth in weeks." She grinned and gave his hair a playful ruffle. "As if I didn't have my hands full enough with you."
He didn't respond to the affectionate tease as she'd hoped. Her own smile faded as she saw his eyes darken in pain before they abruptly dropped from hers and he moved away from her embrace.
"She shouldn't be a part of this at all."
"Yeah well, good luck trying to tell her that. Anyway, it's beside the point now isn't it? She's as much a part of events now as we are."
"No."
She started a little at the sudden force in his voice. There was note of finality in his tone that sparked a fire of unease in her mind.
"It isn't right. This isn't her battle and I won't let her fight it."
"And just how do you intend to stop her? Really, I'm curious. 'Cause you should know that she's a very gifted witch despite her youth and with a fiery temperament to match. Hardly a fair fight."
"For God's sake, Jenny - she's got a family somewhere out there! Another life full of people who love her and have no idea what's happened to her! If you think I'm going to let her stupidly risk her life in a hopeless war that she was never meant to be involved with in the first place… I won't be responsible for her dying like that - an anonymous stranger alone in a foreign world; robbing her of any chance of ever getting back to them. I won't destroy all those lives. I- I can't."
Heavy silence reigned in the wake of Giles's outburst. Apprehension pulled in the pit of her stomach as her eyes remained locked on his averted face. "What are you going to do?"
He lifted his head but didn't meet her gaze. "I'm going to make sure she's safe. Maybe I'll manage to get someone out of here alive, even if it's just one. I'm going to find a way to get her home."
Jenny said nothing; lips pressed together in thought and expression closed off as she watched him turn back into the office. The quiet words echoed in her mind but she found she could summon none in response. She leant into the counter and took deep breath to clear her head, but found it was beyond organisation at this moment.
The shrill echo of the bell abruptly sounded through the now quiet library. The teacher straightened and swore quickly. Wonderful; she was late for her own class.
~o~
AN: Three guesses who the Master's favourite henchmen were. So, a bit more background to the history of the Wishverse and what life was like before our Willow joined. For the eagle-eyed reader you might have noticed this chapter included another reference to Alice in Wonderland; it just seems an apt reference for some aspects of Willow's journey. Yeah, a possible demon touch in the English Civil War...what can I say? Hey, you never know. And the different moralities of war and political revolutions is interesting to me, plus Willow's being very reflective just now. Turning your life upside down can do that. She's still very homesick at the heart of everything. More Oz-missage. And I enjoyed the chance to fill in some of the blanks of their last summer in the Buffyverse, just (relatively) normal life for the Scoobies. It would be interesting to see the dynamics of the group during that time without Buffy.
Ah, the Magic shop. Darker, just like everything else in that world, and just a little tempting. Yes, that's all I'm saying.
Giles and Jenny. I do love a cliffe. Even if it makes you hate me.
Reviews are warm milk and chocolate biscuits after a long day.