This is the part of the story my beta screamed at me and called me mean. Enjoy!
The bus had been parked and left behind. Faith had gone ahead and booked Giles, Buffy and Willow a place: Paige only came by when called. They weren't the grandest rooms, but they were enough.
A few days passed. Willow called Paige often, though more to talk than seek help. There were a few demons, certainly, but they were nothing Buffy, a handful of local Slayers, and Willow couldn't take care of with ease. They didn't need a whitelighter's aid.
At some point along the way, they'd grown to trust Paige. Her aid in moving in had been a help for that: it was much easier to call her and ask her to wave her hand and say a word, than it was to carry their (admittedly few) belongings inside, bit by bit.
"Paige!" Willow called, when the day was almost done. After a few seconds, her whitelighter orbed in.
"Hiya," Paige said, reorienting herself. She sat on a chair, opposite the also-sitting Willow. "Anything happen today?"
Willow shrugged. "Few vamps, four demons. Nothing big."
"Yeah, same here," Paige said. "Couple of demons in San Francisco. Nothing much," she paused, contemplative. "I was a vampire once."
Willow blinked. Then, she tilted her, head, peering into Paige's mouth; Paige chuckled.
"I'm not now," she said.
"I… didn't know it was something you could get better from," Willow said. "Well, not easily at least."
"Different kind of vampire," Paige said. "Think so, at least. Kill the queen, her nest dies, and anyone who didn't drink blood gets transformed back."
"Handy," Willow said. "Sound easier to deal with to. Our vamps don't have queens."
Paige chuckled, and Willow shifted where she sat, before wincing. Immediately, Paige leant forward, frowning.
"You ok?" she said. Willow shrugged.
"Yeah," she said, "Magic-proof demon. No trouble, just got a bit close before we realized. It's nothing serious."
Paige stood, still a little uncertain. Willow's posture had altered, putting as little weight as she could on her right side. Paige reached forward, her hands pausing in midair.
"Can I?" Paige said, hesitantly. Willow leaned back, allowing her to look.
At the very least, Paige reflected, she'd a fair bit of experience with injuries. She should be able to judge its seriousness.
Slowly, she lifted Willow's top, baring the lower half of her abdomen, and revealing a wound that was probably shallow but, due to its position, looked relatively deep. She winced at the sight, though nodded appreciatively at the spell-work already in place, keeping the blood within flowing as it should, through veins that were no longer there.
Though she couldn't quite say why, Paige reached out towards the wound, somewhat amazed Willow could brush it off as 'non-serious'. Her fingertip brushed the edge, and she quickly pulled back.
No point in hurting Willow. Not moving, Paige looked up, toward Willow's face, trying to gauge how she felt.
"Sure you're ok?" Paige said, soft.
A moment of silence. Paige felt a strange rush, an instant of affection for her charge, and her bravery. Then Willow closed her eyes; exhaled, quietly. When she opened your eyes, she glanced at Paige, and then glanced down.
"Thank you," she said. Paige hesitated.
"For- uh, for what?" Paige said.
She followed Willow's gaze down, eyes coming to rest on the redhead's side. Where once there'd been a jagged cut, a wound it was almost painful to just look at, now there was just pale skin. Smooth skin, with no sign of a scar, nor even a speck of red. Paige blinked.
"Thought you said you couldn't do that?" Willow said, uncertain. Slowly, Paige touched the healed wound.
"I can't," she said, and hesitated. "Well, not usually. It's-" she paused, again, before lapsing into a quickly-spoken ramble. "You know how it is. All magic needs a trigger: some kind of feeling, or thought, or gesture. Healing- I've never been able to reliably call up the trigger. Only managed it a couple of times, and that was for someone…" she fell silent; shook her head.
"So...?" Willow said, uncertain. Paige shrugged.
"Guess I'm getting better?" she said, not really believing it.
Willow didn't always need her, of course. Even if Paige was able to heal, now, Willow had the distinct advantage of living in a city populated by directed Slayers. Those that knew what was going on had, unfortunately, not yet made it to San Francisco's Slayer population.
As such, Paige spent some time elsewhere. After her unexpected triggering of her healing power, Paige had retreated upstairs, to where the Elders and some whitelighters called home. Best place to find out about her powers.
"Excuse me?" a new arrival drew her out of her confused reading.
She hadn't been learning much, anyway. As she already knew, the trigger for whitelighter healing was love, and presumably due to her half-whitelighter status, a kind of love she couldn't easily summon up. The last trigger she'd had was Henry, and he'd been the furthest thing from her mind, then.
Paige looked up, to see someone garbed in the typical robes of a whitelighter, when up here. She rarely bothered with the robes: some deviation from the rules was apparently expected from her family, by now.
The whitelighter pulled their hood down, to reveal blonde locks, and a smiling, if shy, face.
"Um," she spoke, "Are you Paige Matthews?"
"Yeah," Paige said, and frowned. "Do I know you?"
"N-no," the blonde shook her head. "Nothing like that. It's just- Um, they asked me to become a whitelighter last year. When I died, like normal. They don't- I knew people. Person. I can't see her, not if she's to move on. That I get, it's just- it's hard, you know?"
Paige hesitated. The blonde winced in self-consciousness.
"I'm not making much sense, am I?" she said, and sighed. "I just want to talk to her. Or at least send a message, and I can't. I- I know their reasons, I just… and I think you know her. That's what they said, anyway."
Paige paused, quickly managing to put things together. It had been something on her mind, recently.
Willow had mentioned someone. A good person: the kind of person who'd be asked to become a whitelighter, and would likely agree. That, and blonde, slightly shy, mild stutter.
"Are you- I might be wrong in which case ignore me, but are you Tara?" Paige said.
The blonde whitelighter nodded: and smiled, relieved. So she didn't need to introduce herself.
"You know Willow," Tara said. "That's what they- that's what everyone said. Can you talk to her?"
Paige nodded, perhaps too quickly. She didn't need to think about her answer. With the time she'd spent with Willow, the conversations she'd had, and what she'd learnt, there was no way she'd ever refuse that request.
"She misses you," Paige said. Tara looked down.
"I know," a pause. "I know, just-"
Paige smiled sympathetically. "I know how the Elders are with rules," she said. They'd done the same with Prue, from what she'd gathered: made it so the now-lost Halliwell sister couldn't see the others.
In a way, maybe it was unsurprising they'd given the same kind of rule to Tara. Even if that meant they would have known of Willow, and Willow's power, for a much greater length of time.
And hadn't given her a whitelighter because they didn't think she deserved one. That recognition came quickly; Willow had voiced a worry that she wouldn't count as a good witch, after what she'd done. Maybe the Elders had agreed.
Unaware of Paige's thoughts, Tara nodded.
"I couldn't see her," Tara said, softly. "I heard things, small things. I don't know how much is true, but… I wish I could speak with her."
"That's what I'm here for," Paige said. She managed to coax a smile from Tara.
"I know," Tara said. She paused. "I- tell her I said hi, I guess."
"Is that all?" Paige said, frowning. Tara shook her head.
"No, I-" a pause, "There was so much I wanted to say, I just- you can't carry it all back down. Just- I don't know what to leave out, and what to keep, I…"
Tara shifted on the spot, her whitelighter robes creasing. Paige couldn't shake the impression that they didn't quite suit her.
"I'll do my best," Paige said.
"Th-thank you," Tara said. "I- Tell her I'm sorry about her shirt. A-and say, for what happened after, I forgive her. If it had been her, I don't know what I'd have done… And, and there's only one other thing I'll ask. Please, promise me she'll try to be happy, that she'll try not to keep punishing herself. That she can move on, without sabotaging it for herself: I won't mind, sh-she's got a lifetime to fill. We can work the details out after, just- I want her to be happy, in any way."
Silence. Paige nodded, slowly, trying to recall all of Tara's words. She wanted to miss out as little as possible; she knew how important this would be for Willow, and she could guess how major it was for the blonde.
"A-and tell her to be strong," Tara said, after a moment. "Like I know she is. Strong like an Amazon."
Paige descended to Willow, a short time after. There was no sign of any other explanation for how her healing power could have been triggered, so she shrugged it off. Maybe she was just improving.
Certainly, it seemed more likely than the alternative. She felt affection for Willow, that she wouldn't deny; she felt similar for all her charges. Maybe she felt an extra kind of kinship with the witch, a new bond of closeness, but it couldn't be enough to qualify for the kind of love her power required.
Shaking off those thoughts, she landed in Willow's room, the light of her orbs quickly waking up the witch. Paige winced; she kept forgetting to check what time it was before she orbed down from upstairs.
"Did I call you?" Willow said, blinking sleepily, "I know the frogs were bad, but I didn't know I called you."
For a moment, Paige blinked.
"I won't ask," she said, "Sorry, didn't know the time. You didn't call me: I had something to say, but it can wait. I won't-"
Willow shook her head, "No," she said, "I won't be able to sleep now. Say away," a smile.
Paige hesitated, unsure of where to begin. Things were always easier in her head; and besides, the mood didn't feel right now. Willow seemed to expect a joke, from her expression.
"I met someone," Paige said, "Upstairs, I mean. Whitelighter-place."
Willow blinked. "You woke me up to talk about your love life?" she said, uncertain. Paige shook her head, quickly.
"No," she said, "No, no. It was someone- They knew you. And, uh, you know I said good people could become whitelighters when they die? It was one of them."
Somehow she couldn't bring herself to say it was Tara. The name always seemed to mean too much, around Willow. Unsurprisingly, really.
Still, the redhead seemed to guess. Or at least, she had her suspicions, judging by how her expression clouded.
"She said she's sorry about your shirt," Paige said.
She didn't know the full story: she hadn't pressed Willow to share every detail. From Tara's tone, however, she'd guessed that was important. From the look in Willow's eyes, she found she was right. Too right, perhaps.
Paige hesitated, not sure she wanted to continue, if that was how Willow reacted. Well, if worst came to worst, she could summon the scythe with her magic.
Before that, however, Paige offered her hand, as a comfort. Willow took it: smiled, somehow.
Then Paige continued. She shared Tara's message, almost word for word. As much as she could remember, at least, all important aspects passed on. In addition, she explained the rules the Elders made: so that Willow could move on, Tara couldn't see her.
It was something that Paige paused after saying. Prue was the only other person like that, that she knew of: she couldn't see her sisters because they were the Charmed Ones, they had much to do, that couldn't be done if they didn't move on.
"You have a destiny," Paige said. "That's what I think, at least. That's when that rule's applied: when someone needs to move on, to achieve something. It's not an excuse, I just- I thought you should know."
It was all she could think of. And, in truth, if Willow had just rewritten the spell that governed the Slayers and their succession, Paige could only guess at what would come to pass in her life.
Slowly, Paige continued, and finished recounting what Tara had asked her to say to Willow. All the while, she held the redhead's hand, and watched her eyes.
She wasn't sure if it was fear or compassion that had her look there. Wariness, in case those eyes should turn black, or trust and pity, knowing that these weren't pleasant memories she was bringing up for Willow.
"She asked you to be strong," Paige said, echoing Tara. "Like she knows you are. Strong like an Amazon."
When she'd finished, there was silence. Willow's grip may have briefly turned harsh, but there was no sign that she was overcome. There was only sadness and, maybe, acceptance.
After a moment, she spoke.
"Thank you," Willow said. Paige smiled, relieved, and didn't let go.
