Chapter One Hundred and Forty Six

Message In A Bottle

*Flashback* Sunnydale, the world without shrimp - 1989

Willow was eight years old the first time she saw magic. She thought it was wonderful and mystical and for a moment it took her out of the boredom of her mom's grocery shopping. But it was also something she stowed away in her mind, somehow she knew it wasn't a good idea to tell her mother. Someone stoic and cold, someone who would break the spell. Explain the magic away with logic and reason. Willow had always been one to keep secrets.

She saw a man in the corner of her eye. His hand in his jacket, looking around to see if he'd been spotted. He didn't notice her curious eyes following him from her mother's side, her hand tugging away from her as they rounded the corner of the aisle. The little girl broke away from the trolley, her mom calling, "Willow!" after her, but she didn't care. She hid behind a six foot stack of tomato soup cans, watching him. The mysterious man pulled his hand out of his jacket and looked around again. The coast was clear enough for him, he didn't see Willow hiding. Though she couldn't contain her giggling as he started to levitate cans from the top of the shelf and into his pocket, completely silently. Her held her hand to her mouth as he started on another row, soon enough his pockets were fit to bursting. Of course logic had no place in magic and after a while of this, Willow noticed his pockets looked lighter, like the cans had fallen out or disappeared.

But soon enough the man was walking away, walking towards the automatic doors of the store. Willow ran around to see if he was going to get caught. But he just strolled out like he'd decided not to buy anything. Willow's brow creased, she tried to add up how many cans he'd stuffed in his pocket on her fingers, but she kept losing count. Then she smiled. He'd made them disappear, he'd made them levitate, then he'd made them disappear. That was impossible. Impossible and wonderful. So Willow kept it to herself. Her mother would never condone stealing anyway. What was the use in telling her?

So when she rounded the corner and said, "Willow, what have I said about running off?" It was a rhetorical question, but Willow knew the answer all the same.

"Not to do it. Ever." She added quietly, taking back her mom's hand and finishing the shopping.

Omaha, the world without shrimp - January 2007

It had been nine years since Tara had stood here. Nine years since they'd buried her mother in this earth. There was a bunch of flowers wilting over the stone, she had a moment's thought that her brother might've left them, had he remembered the anniversary. She'd never know. She didn't wish to. Willow stood ten feet to her left, shaded under a tree, a woeful, supportive look on her face. Her hair long and curling past her shoulders. Tara's own hair was now as long as her waist, but straight as a rod, she had to use heat if she wanted curls. She'd been growing it for some time, not bothering to cut, just wondering how long it would keep going. It made her look older and younger at the same time. She'd had long hair as a child, her mom liked to tie it back and braid it with flowers so her head looked almost like a meadow.

Looking at the headstone now just reminded her of how long ago that was. This town was the one she'd been born in, the one her parents had loved and decided to live in. The place was littered with memories of good things. They'd moved so quickly after her mom's death that it hadn't been so tainted by grief as Vermont had. Tara let a tear dribble down her cheek then she looked up at Willow, pulling her over with a single look. She trod over in the snow, her boots sloshing through that which had been exposed to morning's sun and she stood beside Tara. "Hi," she said softly, letting out a steamy breath into the air and tightening her scarf. It was one of Tara's she'd 'borrowed,' made of thick red wool that took three days to air-dry after it was washed. She took a small stone from her pocket and placed it on top of the gravestone. It didn't matter that Tara's family weren't Jewish, it was a sign of love and respect, that was applicable to anyone.

"She loved willows, you know?" Tara said, pointing to the towering willow tree in the corner of the cemetery.

"I don't think you've ever told me that." Willow replied brightly, taking Tara's shaky hand.

"I think some part of her knew about you, maybe she saw it in a dream. She would've liked you though, and she would've respected you, probably would've adopted you if you wanted." Tara let herself chuckle for a minute thinking about her mom and Willow in the same room. They'd be on opposite sides of the room, then gradually migrate so they could talk about her.

Willow replied so she didn't have to think about the logistics of being Tara's adopted sister and her girlfriend at the same time. "I know she loved you a lot. I can feel it, you wouldn't be who you are without her. And I love you more because of it." Tara smiled and pecked her cheek lovingly, though recoiling quickly because her skin was like ice.

"Let's go. I want to get home, it's so cold out here." Tara said, bending down to touch the grass goodbye and then leading Willow out of the cemetery. The snow crunching underfoot as they opened a portal and stepped through into the warmer Californian sun.

San Francisco, the world without shrimp - January 2007

Spike stalked down the side of the street. Cigarette in hand, attitude on his mind. He could see the cemetery coming into view, oh the things he could do. The things he wanted to do. Just to let off steam would be something, his dreams were making him angry. It was like a switch flipped one night and now he was obsessed. Not that he had a history of obsessing over killing women or anything. He wasn't like Angelus though, he'd never drive a woman mad. Frankly, he didn't have the patience. If he wanted her, he wanted her then and there and he couldn't think of anything else until her blood was splattered over the floor. How his fangs missed sinking into the thin pink flesh of a lady.

"No." He told himself. It was the urges that had him the worst. As a vampire he had the urge for blood lingering in the back of his mind anyway, but dreaming about it night after night was exacerbating him. He pulled down the neck of his shirt because he felt like he was being suffocated, like his clothes were getting tighter. He reached his crypt and slammed the door, his back sliding down the wall. How could he make it stop? He'd do anything to stop feeling like this, to stop the urging, to make that thing he felt when he looked at Buffy last all the time. For now it was just fleeting moments. What a mess she'd made of him. His tears slipped down his face, but he didn't wipe them away because he couldn't feel them anymore. He could've been heaving great sobs but he wouldn't feel a thing because sleep had taken him into a different world. A world of hurt and pain and guilt marking his soul. The thing that was driving him crazy...

There were two girls sitting at the table drinking coffee and chatting with Willow and Tara. The four of them witches, happily chatting away about magic and spells and last week's episode of Harmony Bites. "And you really went to school with her?" Calliope (the redhead) asked Willow, a perplexed look on her face as she looked back and forth between Willow and the girl next to her - Linda, her girlfriend.

"Yep, all four years. Until she got sired at graduation." Willow smiled cheerily as she replied, biting the tip of her thumb. "So how did you guys meet?"

Calliope laughed and looked at Linda who had a cheeky but serious look on her face. "Go ahead, babe."

"Okay fine, we um well we-"

"Oh my god, spit it out!" Calliope interjected, nudging the brunette in the ribs. Willow remembered what it was like to be like that, to be so new into a relationship that you had to make the most of every moment. Had to tease each other even when it wasn't necessary. These days, her and Tara took it slowly, because they knew they had forever together. There was no need to overdo it.

"We met at a party. Some guy dared us to go into a closet and make out," Linda cringed, covering her face with her hand.

"So we did. To prove a point." Calliope interrupted, "I already had a crush on her though." She whispered to Tara who smiled and took Willow's hand as a comfort. "But you guys are so much cooler though, you've been together for so long already." Willow adjusted her position on her chair and was just about to protest that they were still young, when Calliope continued, "you're like cool witchy aunts, here to teach us magic." Which swiftly changed the subject.

"Yes. Yes, we are," Tara said so Willow didn't have to. She could see she was getting fidgety so she continued, "Will, why do you go and check on the thing?" Willow stared at her in confusion before realising what Tara was talking about.

"Oh yes, the thing, right." She said, standing up and walking into the their bedroom, leaving the girls to tell more stories. To get comfortable with the place. She closed the door slowly and turned round to Astra who was sitting on the bed. "What do you think?"

"Nice place," she picked up the magazine she'd been reading and pointed to the window, "nice view."

"No I mean them, what do you think about them?" Willow pointed to the door, to the chirpy voices they could hear through the thin wall.

"They're very young," Astra replied bluntly.

"You're younger than me," Willow protested, folding her arms and sitting beside her friend on the bed.

"They're nice. I trust you Willow, to pick good people, and if Tara likes them too, then well, who am I to judge?" Astra crossed her legs and leaned back, putting distance between her head and the redhead's. "You don't have to impress me, you know?"

"I know. But I respect your opinion. You know how covens work, you live in one. You basically always have, I just came and stayed for a summer. How am I supposed to know if I'm doing it right?"

"Willow, every coven is different. Ours is old and traditional, we have a founding place, a home, a big castle with a dozen secret libraries and three pantries. Your coven will be tied to where you are. It's still a baby, and it has you to lead it." Astra leaned forward again, her eyes fixed and serious, her hands clasped Willow's. "I have every faith the choices you make will the right ones." Then she glanced down at her watch and said, "sorry Will, I have to go. Ben's waiting for me." And with that she was off, standing up suddenly and grabbing her bag from the bed, conjuring a portal, walking through it. Appearing the next minute at the docks. Willow sat alone, a little stunned. But then again, Astra had never been one to share her emotions very often, she was strong and tough and that shell didn't come down every often. She repeated Astra's words over and over in her mind to give herself confidence before leaving the bedroom and going back to the table.