6/21/05

Intuition

She had fallen asleep with her head on a magic book again. Groaning, she lifted herself off of the ancient tome and wiped the drool from her mouth. Making sure that she hadn't ruined any of the scratched ink scribbling, she finally allowed herself to stretch up, raising her arms above her head. Yawning, she closed the book with a thud, scraping her chair back as she rose, cracking her back along the way.

A symbol glowed briefly on the palm of her right hand, unnoticed, fading away and melting into her skin, the black ink running along the lines and into her pores. On the cover of the book, the same symbol glowed until she exited the room.

Unknowingly, Willow Rosenberg had done something Very Bad.

"Hey girl, where ya been?" Buffy called, throwing a smile at Willow as she walked into the Espresso Pump. Grinning back at her, the redhead took the seat across from her and accepted the cold iced mocha.

"Ehh…" Willow blushed, "I fell asleep at Giles'…"

"Again? Jeez, Will, you're working too hard. Seriously. You need to get out more."

Willow ignored Buffy's concerned hazel eyes and played with her straw. "But this is what I'm good at. You know? Researching and Willow Rosenberg go together like peas in a pod. It's what I do."

The blonde sighed, reaching out a hand to gently lay it onto her best friend's. "But it's not all you do," she squeezed, making Willow look up at her. She smiled, "I need my Willow time, too."

"Oh, gee, thanks, Buffy. That makes me feel special. I'm here on this earth to do research and keep you company."

"You know I didn't mean that."

Willow sighed. "Yeah, I know. I'm just… I dunno. A little wigged out. I woke up this morning with the feeling that something was off. It's affected my whole day."

Studying her, Buffy chewed her lip for a second before taking a long sip of her own iced mocha. "That bad, huh? D'ya think it's some Wicca thing?"

The redhead scratched absently at her hand. "I don't think so. I think it's just a side affect of using Giles' book as a pillow." She grinned mischievously up at her friend.

Buffy grinned back at her. "Any drool this time?"

Willow blushed. She looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about…"

"You did!"

"Just a little!" the Wicca protested, and Buffy nodded, letting it drop. However, she couldn't stop the little chuckle that passed her lips.

"Laugh all you want," Willow retorted, "I'm not the one that woke up chewing on a Watcher's diary!"

"You promised you wouldn't say anything about that!"

"Yeah, well, Giles still believes that it was a raccoon that snuck into your house, so I think I'm safe in bringing it up whenever I want to away from him."

The blonde and her friend continued bickering good naturedly until Buffy had a class. Waving goodbye and promising that she'd pay for their next coffee meeting, Willow watched her walk out, letting the ice clink at the bottom of her cup. She hadn't lied to her best friend at all. Just… played with it a bit. Maybe. If even that.

She sighed, scratching her hand again. Why did it itch so much? Looking down at her palm, she drew her fingers out, stretching her skin to see if there was any rash or bug bites. Seeing nothing but the usual discoloring from pink to white as her tendons moved under her skin, she frowned down at it accusingly.

Out of curiosity, maybe she'd have someone read her palm, she thought, studying the three major lines that creased her palm. It wouldn't hurt, would it? Maybe it'd even stop the blasted itching!

So, when someone sat down at the table right next to hers, Willow turned to the blonde woman and asked, "Can you read palms?"

Tara Maclay had never been to the Espresso Pump before, but the nice man at the Magic Box had recommended it to her as a good place to take a break before she had to go back to UCSD. Passing the bright sign, Tara had decided to take his advice and go in, feeling that some hot cider would be good in the still nippy weather of November. So, after she had ordered her beverage and paid, she turned to stake out the establishment.

Noticing that the only empty seat was at a table where a small blonde girl was just getting up and saying goodbye to a pretty redheaded girl, she hung out near the wall by the counter. Tara was too shy to go up and sit with someone she didn't know, and she didn't think the redhead would appreciate it anyway, as she seemed to be completely engrossed in her thoughts.

Finally, the man at the single table near the redhead folded up his newspaper and stood up, taking his coffee cup with him. Watching him toss both the paper and cup into the nearest trash can, Tara figured that would be best place she could get. Blowing on her cider, she hurried to take the table before anyone else could.

Even before she could get completely settled into her seat, the redhead turned to her and asked, "Can you read palms?"

"Wh-what?" she blinked, her fingers tightening briefly on the waxy paper in her hand.

Bright green eyes looked up at her. A pink tongue swept fleetingly out of the redhead's mouth, wetting her lips. She looked hopefully at Tara. "Can you read palms?" she repeated.

Tara's eyes widened, and she flicked her gaze away, around the café, feeling as if everyone was looking at her, waiting for her answer. What should she say? The truth? Why was this girl even asking her? But, as her eyes met the redhead's again, she could tell the girl wasn't trying to make fun of her.

She took a sip of her cider to steady her nerves, and answered truthfully. "Y-yes, I can."

"Great!" Relief shown bright in the girl's face, and she blushed for a second, lowering her voice, "Would you, could you read mine?"

Swallowing her immediate question of 'why?', Tara nodded her head and wiped her hands nervously on her skirt.

The girl smiled gratefully and moved her chair over a few feet. Smiling shyly, she offered her right hand, palm up. Feeling as if she was starting some test, Tara gently took her hand into her own.

The first thing Tara thought was, wow, she's so warm and soft… However, as she looked up to see the girl's eager expression as she bent over her palm, she forced her mind to get back to what she was supposed to be doing. Moving her bang that had fallen in front of her eyes back behind her ear, she started.

Willow watched as the girl concentrated over her palm, moving her lips as if she was talking to herself. To be truthful, she almost felt silly asking a perfect stranger to be doing this, but her hand had stopped itching the moment the blonde had taken it, and she didn't want that feeling to end. The girl's hands were slightly cold, the centers warm from her drink, and it made Willow shiver slightly. Still, the way she held her hand as if it was a sacred object made her thrill to no end.

She watched, fascinated. Palmistry was one part of Wicca and divining that Willow had never been good at. The last time she had tried to read Xander's palm hadn't gone over too well when she confused his Life Line with his Intelligence, and predicted that he'd have the genius of Albert Einstein and only a short life to enjoy it. When it was discovered that they had been switched, however, Xander hadn't spoken to her for weeks, convinced that it was her fault that he didn't do well in school. Of course, that had been in 5th grade, but Willow was still too traumatized to ever try it again.

The girl gently traced a finger down the line nearest Willow's thumb. She shivered at the almost intimate feeling that elicited in her.