Chapter Thirty Two
Rat
Later, Willow lay on the couch and stared at her legs. She could feel the hurt underneath the thin hospital bathrobe. Tara was softly snoring in the bed near her. Willow looked at her as Tara shifted position, then returned her stare to her legs.
(I just realized I could.)
Amy had been a rat for years. And one night Willow was sitting despondently in her room, thinking about Oz and the hurtful things he said to her. She went to the cage and drew out the rat. What had she said to Amy? Something about how hurt and lonely she was.
And the answer came to her, and it was clear as crystal.
No more pet rat.
("Hi Buffy," said Amy.
"Hi." Buffy was astonished. "How've you been?"
"Rat. You?"
"Dead."
"Oh. Got any cookies?")
Willow stared at her legs, and power coruscated in her mind, new power, raw, untrained, delicious.
(I just realized I could.)
So Willow closed her eyes, and focused on that new power, and brought the image of Panacea to her mind, the poultice the goddess had been holding, the one that melted into her, and it had felt so good, so right.
"Heal," Willow said softly.
And it was that simple. A heat wave rippled through her, starting at her toes, and she watched as the cuts disappeared, replaced by smooth and unmarked skin. The ripple continued, and the faint abrasions at her knuckles also vanished, and her lungs tingled with power, and she licked her unchapped lips as the wave crashed over her skull.
Just like that, it was over. She was healed.
Willow stood up; her muscles didn't ache or screech. Instead they felt fresh and ready to run. She jumped up and down, landing softly on the balls of her feet. No pain. None at all.
It was over.
Willow walked confidently to Tara's side. She didn't want to wake her girl, but she didn't have to. She softly took Tara's hand, and she closed her eyes, and focused on that power once again.
"Heal," Willow repeated.
But the power recoiled off the great adamant wall. Willow frowned, and pushed harder. Nothing. Harder still. Nothing, and Tara shivered in remembered pain, her eyelids furiously twitching in dreams.
Willow wasn't too disappointed. That would have been too easy. There would be another way. She would find another way, she always did.
("You're like, cool monster fighter."
"I always had a monster fighting team.")
No team anymore, and remembering Buffy and Amy and Oz made her hurt. They were all gone, and she and Tara were alone, and she was supposed to save the world yet again. Tara had told her almost everything, but Willow still had no idea how she was supposed to help this wondrous woman. The raw power within her almost scared her – she had grown enamored of magic in her past, though Xander had stopped her before anything bad had happened. In her nightmares since then she could see herself doing terrible things, and that frightened her more than anything else.
But this power felt fundamentally different, and ever Willow looked upon her angel, her nurse, her paladin. It was because of Tara. Tara grounded her, gave her purpose and meaning and direction.
(Just what does Tara mean to you, Willow?)
Althanea. Willow closed her eyes and focused all her attention on the British witch, then called out with her mind... *Althanea, can you hear me?*
Surprise. Willow could feel it emanating from the witch, even though she was hundreds of miles away.
*Willow?*
*Althanea, you need to come. Tara fainted again and I really need to talk to you.*
Pause. Willow could feel the hesitation. *It will take a little time, Willow, I don't have access to a car.*
*Why don't you teleport?*
Surprise. Wonder.
*How on earth do you know I can do that? I never told Tara.*
*Please. Come.*
*Stand away from the picture of Mount Kilimanjaro. That's where I'll appear.*
*Okay. Thank you.*
Willow was nowhere near the picture, but she moved even further away, standing by the bank of machines that so recently had been dedicated to keeping her alive.
There was a slim pop, and the curly haired supplicant of Hecate suddenly appeared by the picture. Willow swiftly walked to her, and Althanea's eyes shot wide, and then she grasped Willow's hands.
"Willow, you are walking." She looked over Willow's shoulder and saw Tara asleep in Willow's bed. "What has gone on here?" Althanea asked, dropping Willow's hands to sit on the lone chair by Tara's side.
Willow visualized a similar chair, and, gesturing, said, "Chair." With another slim pop, an identical plastic chair appeared next to the astonished witch. Willow smiled broadly and sat down, almost enjoying the look of shock on Althanea's face.
Althanea took Tara's hand, but she looked at Willow. "You have something to tell me," she said wryly.
And Willow bubbled with her secret. "Better than that," she said. "May I show you?"
(By having my fingers touch someone, I can seep into their consciousness and enter their mind.)
She took Althanea's other warm hand, and was surprised by the wrinkles in the woman's palm. Althanea looked young, but was probably in her sixties, at least, judging by the lines.
(My mother called it mindsurfing.)
Willow closed her eyes, and there was the now-familiar whoosh, then both she and Althanea stood in the mists of the ether, looking upon the gathered pantheon as observers. Willow coaxed the memory, and then the two of them watched as her memory-self accepted gift after gift from the pantheon. Well, Althanea was watching the gift exchange, and Willow noticed her smile as Althanea looked upon her patronness Hecate, but Willow was really watching Tara, and her heart broke as she watched her girl suffer. As Tara fell to the ground, Willow wished she could rush to Tara's side, and kiss her, and make it all better, but she could only look, not touch.
Then it was over, and Althanea nodded at Willow, and the red-haired witch brought them out of the ether and back into the hospice.
"Well," Althanea said finally. "That explains a lot."
Willow lifted her robe from her lower legs, and showed Althanea the creamy and unmarked skin. "I healed myself," Willow said, and then she let the fabric fall back down. "But I still can't heal her."
Althanea sighed. "I didn't expect it would be that easy," she admitted.
"I guess not," Willow replied. "Any luck finding a demon?"
"We've actually found quite a few," Althanea said. "Capturing them is the major problem. My power isn't strong enough to hold them, so we always end up killing them just as they break their bonds." Althanea looked sharply at Willow. "We could certainly use your help, Willow."
And Willow couldn't suppress the thrill of excitement that came over her. Deep down, she admitted to herself that she missed the adrenaline of being a Scooby, of the terror of the unknown. It would never inflame her quite as it inflamed Faith
(And Xander slept with her...)
but she couldn't deny the tingle that came over her at the thought of demon-hunting. Not that she was bored here with Tara, just that this was what she was born to do.
(It's a good fight, Buffy, and I want in.)
"I'd be happy to help," Willow replied truthfully, knowing she would do just about anything for this woman who had helped them both so much. She looked over at Tara again; her nurse was sleeping fitfully with a look of far pain on her face.
"Althanea, I still don't even know what I'm supposed to do," Willow finally admitted. She looked at the older witch, one she had spoken on the phone to a dozen times or more this past year, yet she never realized, did she, how young-seeming Althanea was, how wise, how wonderful? With her nurse asleep, and only in front of this British witch, could Willow lay bare the worry in her heart.
"I'm scared, Althanea," she said quietly, looking at her legs. Then she looked up at met Althanea's firm gaze. "Tara has told me that she is the lamb, and every time she does so, I get the horrible feeling that the gods intend to use her like she uses the rabbits."
Althanea made no movement, no sound.
"They are going to put every darkness this world has to offer in that frail little body, and then they are going to sacrifice her, aren't they?"
Still no reply.
Willow grew angry. "Like hell I'm going to sit around and just wait for them to make her their sacrificial lamb! Mayor Wilkins was going to destroy Sunnydale and eat our graduation class and we stopped him. They said Adam couldn't be stopped, but we stopped him too, didn't we? Glory herself was a God and we put paid to her," and then Willow's face grew shocked and white. "Buffy," she whispered.
"There is always a sacrifice, Willow," Althanea said sadly. "And Buffy died to save the world. Again."
Willow's throat closed up with anger and sorrow. "So what am I supposed to do?" she finally choked out. "Just let them kill her? I just found her! I love her!"
"Why do you think we sent you to Tara, Willow?" Althanea asked.
Willow was stopped in her tracks. "There are other healers," Willow said slowly.
"Yes," Althanea readily admitted. "We sent Faith to one of them, in Romania."
"Yet you sent me to Tara."
"And why do you suppose that is?"
(I just realized I could.)
The answer swum into Willow's mind, effortless. "You knew I would fall in love with her," Willow whispered.
"She's very easy to love."
"You knew that if I loved her, I would find a way to save her." Willow's voice grew excited again.
"We love her, too, Willow, and we knew her best chance of survival would be with you at her side." Althanea smiled and patted Willow's hand. "After all you have done, after Mayor Wilkins and Adam and Glory and The First, we knew if anyone could do it, it would be you."
"So what I am supposed to do?" Willow asked excitedly.
*Tara may be listening.*
*Why should that matter?*
*Caleb has access to all her thoughts, all her memories. Whatever information we give her, we give also to him.*
*Oh.*
*There is a little time yet, Willow. Take Tara home, and in a few days come to me in Sunnydale. If the demon works, I have a very good idea of what we must do.*
*And if it doesn't?*
*Then I'm afraid it's all in your hands, dear one.* Dismissal, and Althanea motioned as if to leave.
*You will stay until Tara wakes, won't you?*
*You caught me on the hop earlier. We now have the scythe, but we're still looking for p'achi. Angel and I are scouring Sunnydale, and we better find it before someone else does.*
Willow was so surprised to hear the word that she said aloud, "P'achi? What is that?"
*Do you not remember the knife?*
Willow found she did remember that black and terrifible knife, the one that murdered Jonathon, etched deeply with proto-Tawarick runes, and how angry they had been to discover it in their cutlery drawer.
*We didn't know it had a name.*
*A name and a purpose. The knife is old, Willow. It was used by the Mayan civilization for their rituals of human sacrifice. Its name actually means human sacrifice. Translated literally, it also means 'to open the mouth'.*
*Mayan. Andrew found the knife in Mexico.*
*Yes. Our lives depend on finding that knife before The First does. Do you remember what happened the last time the knife was used?*
*To open the Seal of Danzalthar. But we destroyed the seal!*
*So you did. But there is a legend, only a myth, really, that there is a final seal.*
*Where is it?*
Chagrin. *We don't know.*
*I need a laptop and an internet connection.*
*Yes. Take Tara home and get to work. Contact Faith. Tell her the final battle is coming. Playtime is over. Now I really must go.*
*Thank you for coming.*
In response, Althanea drew Willow in a tight and comforting hug. *Just save her, Willow. We love her, too.*
*I will.*
There was another slim pop and Althanea vanished. Willow turned her head and noticed that Tara was already starting to wake up, shifting in the bed and rubbing her eyes. She walked quickly to the bedside and leaned down to give her lover a kiss.
"Mmm," Tara murmured, then her eyes flew wide open. "Your lips aren't chapped," she said, lifting an eyebrow in confusion. Willow sat on the chair near the bed and lifted her hospital robes to her knees to show off the white and unmarked skin underneath.
"I healed myself," Willow said softly, "With the gift of Panacea." She was a little worried about Tara's response, so she continued, "I tried to heal you again, Tara, I really did, but I just can't get past Caleb's wall. I'm so sorry."
"Darling," Tara said, sitting up in the bed and taking Willow's face in her hands. "Ssh, it's all right. We'll find another way." She used that convenient position to kiss Willow again, softly, on the lips.
"Tara?" Willow asked softly, loving how her face was cradled in Tara's hands.
"Mmm?"
"What happened when you left the ether?" Willow asked softly. Seeing the look of pain on Tara's face, Willow pulled her over to the couch and they sat down together, and Willow took comfort in Tara's hand on her knee.
"Caleb pulled me out," Tara said slowly. "Every time I faint, I... go to him."
Willow saw through the words, and in alarm she asked, "Then what happened?"
"He showed me the Seal of Danzalthar, the one in the high school," Tara said, looking at her hand on Willow's knee. It was eerie for Willow to hear the words from her nurse, echoing the conversation she just had with Althanea, and she concentrated with ferocity on Tara's words. "He showed me another seal."
"Did he say where it was?" Willow asked with bated breath.
"No," Tara replied, and Willow deflated a little. "But there was a vampire there, who used a strange language." At Willow's expression, Tara reluctantly continued, "I don't even recall the words, or what they sounded like. Only they sounded Latin, maybe Spanish? Italian?
"He said the first seal only needed a little blood to open, but that the second seal was thirsty. He said it would need a human, and all of that human's blood in order to open it."
Willow was shocked. It was true. The gods were going to sacrifice her girl, her love, her reason for being. But Tara touched Willow on the face and said, "He doesn't want my blood now, Willow. He needs the blood of another to open the seal. Blood, and a ..."
"A what?" Willow asked impatiently.
"A knife," Tara whispered, and then she covered her mouth with her hand as if ashamed she had said the words. Her face suddenly constricted in pain, then slackened once more. Willow wanted to ask more questions, to bombard her really, playtime was over, Willow, it's research time, but her girl looked so sick and so frightened, Willow let it be.
She would regret that before the end.
Tara stretched and asked, "What time is it?"
"Barely two in the afternoon," Willow replied. "Are you hungry? What can I get for you?"
"I really should get home," Tara said wistfully, holding Willow's hand. "I have to do some grocery shopping and some laundry."
"Take me with you," Willow said abruptly.
"Willow," Tara laughed, but then she cocked her head and said, "Well, actually." She looked at Willow then with the eyes of a trained nurse. "Walk for me," she asked.
Willow smiled and walked briskly across the room, shaking her fanny once from near the doorway. Tara smiled. "Jump up and down," Tara asked. Willow obliged, and jumped lightly on the balls of her feet several times. "Touch your toes." Willow bent over, then noticed the cheeky glee in Tara's eyes as the nurse unabashedly stared at the white cleavage Willow showed.
"You're so busted!" Willow gasped. "You were checking me out!" She mock-glared at Tara as she returned to the couch.
"It worked, didn't it?"
Willow gave Tara a quick peck on the cheek. "So, do I pass inspection?" she asked, turning around. Willow found she could hardly wait to put on some real clothing, maybe some of the stuff that Buffy would wear on her dates, leather pants and thin tops, and see what Tara's response would be then. Thinking of it made her blush.
"What are you thinking about?" Tara asked slyly.
*Never you mind.* Willow thought back.
Tara's eyes widened as she heard Willow's soft voice in her head. "The gift," she said.
"One of many," Willow replied. "Can we go home now?"
Tara left the room to search out Dr. Daniels, and Willow took the opportunity to reach Faith. She had never attempted to contact someone telepathically over such a distance – even contacting Althanea had been a major victory for her. There were a few false starts, but then, concentrating more on Faith's brazen and capricious nature than on her face, Willow struck through.
*Faith. Faith. It's Willow.*
If Willow thought she detected surprise from Althanea, it was nothing compared to the shock of surprise coming from Faith, but the surprise faded nearly instantly, Slayer reflexes and all.
*Damn it, Red. Where are you calling from?*
*I'm still in California. Faith, are you all right?*
*Five by five, Red. I'm all fixed up and cooling my heels. You caught me right in the middle of some vampire trashing.*
*Have you found any Slayers?*
*Bout twelve, only five I would actually use in a fight.*
*Train them, Faith.*
*What's going on, Red?*
*The end of the world.*
*Again?*
Willow wasn't fooled. She could hear the undercurrent of excitement in Faith's voice. This is what the dark-haired Slayer lived for. How to succinctly describe the current Big Bad and not lose Faith's attention?
*Caleb isn't gone. He's looking for the knife and then he's going to use it to open the second seal.*
*Where's the seal?*
Chagrin. *We don't know, yet. Can you just get prepared? Once I know where the battle is, I can teleport you there with me.*
*Teleport? What are you, TurboWillow?*
*You could say that.*
Willow could feel the Slayer getting antsy through their delicate link. It was night in Romania, and Faith was on the prowl. Besides, Willow could hear Tara and Dr. Daniels returning.
*Just be ready, okay?*
*You know me; born ready.*
The link was thin, and Tara and the good doctor were walking through the door, but Willow sent out, *Faith, thanks for saving my life.*
*We're cool, Red. Check ya later.*
Tara had a quizzical look on her face as she entered and saw Willow's open-eyed detachment, but since Willow regained her composure quickly, the look also faded. It took some persuading, but finally Dr. Daniels relented. After examining Willow with all the cool detachment of a doctor, and after Willow showed him some of her more flamboyant new gifts (going invisible and taking his stethoscope from his chest, turning it into solid diamond and then back again), he signed the discharge papers.
He looked at Tara once as he signed them, noticing her hand in hand with Willow. "You have your mandatory week off, Tara," he said quietly. "After Monday's tests, have you thought about going home?"
Willow looked between the two of them, seeing something she didn't quite understand, something about the family that Tara never seemed to mention.
"I've thought about it," Tara said softly, in a don't-ask-me-now tone. Dr. Daniels ruffled his hand through his hair, looked once again between the two of them, staring now at Willow's magically healed legs. Willow knew that he was remembering their conversation.
Softly, knowing he would be surprised, she sent, *I will save her, Dr. Daniels. You will see.*
His eyes widened at the mental intrusion, and he stared now at her eyes. Tentatively, she heard him respond, *I love her too, you know.*
Willow simply nodded, and Tara looked at them both. "This is for you," Ethan said, handing a thick envelope to Willow.
"What is it?" Willow asked, starting to rip the envelope open.
"It's from the British guy who donated the funds to send you here. I believe it's the details of your trust fund. You're a wealthy woman now, you know?"
Willow opened the envelope and saw two thick piles of 100 dollar bills, along with a letter and several credit-style cards. In a flash she remembered her conversation with her mother, how Sheila had wondered if the Council was going to force her into indentured service for giving her all this money. She remembered her unspoken reply, that they would use her, send her throughout the world to put out evil fires. For now Willow put those thoughts from her mind. For now, it was enough to think of the laptop she could buy, the monitors and the servers, and start her quest for the second seal of Danzalthar, and for p'achi, the knife. She could take Tara on a date, and buy new clothes, and even get a pet, if she wanted to.
But no rats.
