Days of Grace Chapter 14
Days of Grace Chapter 14
Feedback: Yes, please!
Spoilers: Everything BtVS.
Pairing: Willow/Tara
Author’s Notes: This story takes place years after the last season of BtVS, but any references to Willow as she appeared in the Angel series will be pretty vague, if not non-existent. In this story, Willow eventually left the Scoobies (though she kept in touch and often drops by to visit) and traveled pretty widely, returning to the coven in Devon several times. Her last stay there lasted for more than a year.
Summary: Years later, Willow returns briefly to the place that was Sunnydale.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
The witches didn’t stop running until they’d stepped through the door, slamming it behind them. Once inside, they paused only to catch their breaths.
Then Willow was moving, barking out the Slayer’s name.
Kennedy rushed into the living room. Her eyes took in everything in an instant - the witches’ disheveled appearance, their tight but not panicked expressions, and how nothing else seemed to be out of place. Only when she was sure that the room was empty did her stance relax. “What’s going on?”
“Has anything happened?” Willow asked, an edge to her voice.
“Isn’t that my line?” she quipped, one eyebrow raised. When that didn’t elicit a response, she answered, “Not as far as I know. I just got back from bringing that girl home, the spooked one Tara sent here?” The dark-haired woman took another look at the pair. “But something obviously happened to you guys.”
One word was all it took to explain. “Turok-han.”
Kennedy’s eyes widened. “Already? Has the seal been breached?”
“There was just one,” Willow replied, shaking her head. “If there was a breach we would’ve encountered more. I need a phone. Oh and Ken, Tara’s hurt,” she added, “can you show her the first aid kit?” She was already stalking towards the kitchen before either girl could say a word.
Tara and Kennedy looked at each other awkwardly. When they finally spoke, they ended up doing it at the same time.
"How badly -"
"It's nothing -"
“But it’s obvious you’re hurt -”
“No, really. I’m fine. It’s just a s-scrape. Nothing any Scooby isn’t used to...”
They were interrupted by a voice from the kitchen raised in uncharacteristic swearing. In another second, one very disgruntled witch was back. “Giles isn’t picking up.”
“Maybe he’s busy or -” Kennedy began.
“I gave the man a cell phone for a reason!” Willow snapped. Belatedly, she realized that the two women were staring at her. She forced herself to continue more calmly under their perceptive gazes. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve got this bad feeling and I can’t -”
Too late.
“Willow,” the Slayer interrupted, “what’s wrong with your hand?”
“What? Oh it’s nothing, it’s just...” Blue and brown gazes tracked the way the redhead reflexively hid her left hand behind her.
Frowning, Kennedy turned to Tara. “Did she try anything with the Turok-han?”
“A spell,” the Wiccan replied immediately. “Ball of sunshine?”
The Slayer rolled her eyes. “You forgot to shield your hand before launching the fireworks again, didn’t you?” she asked Willow. “You know where the first aid kit is. There’s a lot of ice in the fridge too. Tara, can you help her? I’m gonna try to get in touch with Slayer Central.” Her voice turned somber as she remembered the last time uber-vampires had walked the earth. The fight had been ferocious, and not everyone on their side had survived. “It can't be good if there are Turok-han.”
***
Some minutes later, a grouchy Willow was seated on the couch. Her hand, which was admittedly sore, was soaking in a bowl of ice. Honestly, one minute you were an ass-kicking Wicca and the next people were treating like you were all of ten.
She was still pouting when Tara entered the living room, carrying a fluffy towel. Carefully, she took Willow's hand out of the bowl and gently patted it dry. “That’s probably going to stay an angry red for awhile. Does it feel any better?”
“It still hurts,” the redhead groused in a passable imitation of a sullen ten-year old. Not that the statement wasn’t true. Now that the adrenaline had gone, her hand felt exactly like it had been thoroughly scalded.
The sulky tone drew an amused glance. “Maybe I can kiss it better?” Tara suddenly asked, her eyes dancing impishly. She bent down, missing the doubtful look that crossed her patient’s face.
Willow wasn’t exactly in the mood; her hand was really sensitive right now. Instinctively she held her breath, bracing for the expected sting.
But when Tara's lips made contact, they were so light, just the slightest graze on the side of her palm...
It was the kind of touch, Willow thought (with the tiny part of her mind that was still capable of thinking), that in the normal course of events might barely tickle. But because her hand was so tender, the resulting sensation was almost indescribable. When the tip of Tara's tongue, warm and soft and so very gentle, snuck out for the briefest moment against her cold, abraded flesh, it elicited a gasp, firing off the raw nerves in her hypersensitive skin, bringing it to the edge of stinging. But only just.
“I thought...hand injuries were supposed to be bad for, you know, gay loving?” she found herself stammering, a little short of breath as Tara’s soft lips made a brief detour to the inside of her wrist. Oh God, all she has to do is kiss my hand now?
“Sweetie, it's your left hand,” the blonde pointed out as she sat back with a lopsided grin. She sure doesn’t look pouty anymore.
“Wait, what about your arm?” Willow suddenly asked. Tara’s crouch had brought her arm squarely to the attention of a certain pair green eyes which fastened on the torn sleeve in dismay. The gash from the encounter with the Turok-han was no longer bleeding, and it had obviously been cleaned, but it hadn’t been bandaged yet and it still looked incredibly sore. The hacker felt like smacking herself on the face. "How could I have forgotten? What kind of girlfriend am I?”
Tara tried to fight off the blinding smile that threatened to take over her entire face, and failed. Spectacularly.
She’s smiling? "Er, what?"
"Girlfriend?" she grinned.
"Tare, you know you..." Willow took a deep breath. “But first things first, okay, baby?” Though the cut no longer looked serious, it still needed to be attended to, especially since they had to be ready for whatever was coming next. "I'm going to try something. I'm not too good at it but..."
She carefully laid her hand along the cut on Tara’s arm, cupping her palm so that she wasn’t directly touching the wound itself. Suddenly there was heat coursing from that hand, and it was the Wiccan’s turn to gasp.
Blue eyes were wide with astonishment even before the witch took her hand away. Nothing but a thin, red mark marred the fair skin. "You c-can heal?"
Willow looked embarrassed. "I can channel. I tried it one day..." She thought about the first time she’d returned to Sunnydale, how the strips torn off of her stomach by the flesh-eating Gnarl had hurt too much, and how Buffy, in the clearest sign that all was forgiven, had offered her own energy to help her get better. But that was too much to explain right now. "Later I figured out that if it worked on me then it might be possible to do it to other people. There are others who're much better at it though..." Suddenly her words grew fainter as her eyes drooped.
Tara’s amazement quickly gave way to concern. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Huh? Oh sorry.” The hacker straightened up with an effort. “It’s just that even if I’m mainly just channeling energy, drawing it out and transferring sort of...”
“Takes energy too? Your energy?” the blonde witch surmised. “Oh Will, you shouldn’t have -”
“You would’ve done the same for me.”
Tara sighed. Trust Willow’s logic to be unassailable, even when she’s exhausted. “It’s been a long day for both of us, sweetie. Time for bed?”
“But we haven’t heard back from Giles,” Willow tried to protest, though it was an effort now even to speak.
“I’m sure Kennedy will tell us if anything important comes up.” Tara held out her hand invitingly. “Just for a few hours? I’d like to get some rest too.”
“Oh well if you put it that way...”
Smiling, Willow stood up and took the proffered hand, willingly going to bed. In a testament to how drained she was, the normally tireless woman was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Not Tara though. She was tired but with everything that had happened today, and this latest discovery about Willow, she was too wired for now. Gently, she brushed an errant lock from the pale redhead’s face, her fingers trailing down the freckled curve of a cheek.
“Do you have any idea how proud I am of you?” she whispered as the woman stirred the tiniest bit, snuggling closer into Tara’s warmth. “I love you, that’s no surprise. But what you’ve done in the years we’ve been apart, with no idea that I was watching, that I wasn’t really gone... How did you bear it? Because I know that if it had been m-me...” She faltered. Just the thought of it, of things happening the other way around, if Willow had seen Xander first and stepped towards the window instead of her -
NO. Just no. If there was ever a choice, me or her, I would’ve volunteered every time. Dying I could bear, she thought, gazing at this beloved face, quiet in sleep. But not... She shuddered at the thought.
And yet you brought danger to her again, an inner voice mocked.
Tara’s arms tightened around the redhead. Because Willow and Buffy and her friends are the only ones who can deal with this. They’re the only hope now.
“...shoes...on sale...” the world’s best hope mumbled.
The Wiccan snickered. So many things changed, so many things the same. Sighing, she dropped her head to Willow’s shoulder and let her warmth and her breathing lull her to sleep.
For the next few hours, the world seemed right again.
***
Reality asserted itself with a vengeance in the morning. The second the witches saw Kennedy waiting for them downstairs, arms crossed over her chest, they knew there was trouble.
It wasn’t just the grim expression on the Slayer’s face, but the fact that she was already dressed and packed, though it was barely past six in the morning. "I got through half an hour ago,” she said as soon as she spotted them. “Giles is going to call back soon. You might want to talk to him, Willow."
The redhead was instantly serious. "What happened?"
"You were right," was the simple reply. “There wasn’t time for details, I only know that there’s been some kind of attack and that people got hurt -” She paused. “Will, Althea was one of them.”
The phone began to ring right on cue. Willow grabbed it quickly. “Giles?” she snapped. “I knew it! So they showed up there, too? Is everyone okay? Is it true that the coven...? Dammit, why didn’t anyone call me?! ... Sorry, sorry. I know. I’ll be there right away. No, Giles, you can’t talk me out of this so don’t even try.”
She clicked the cordless unit off. “I have to go. Right now,” she announced in a tight voice. “A bunch of Turok-han went straight for the coven in Devon too.”
“I’ve got a ride ready,” Kennedy offered.
“I need to get there faster,” Willow said. She noticed the white line around the younger woman’s mouth and continued apologetically, “I’m sorry...”
Kennedy waved her off. Her face had not lost its severe expression since they’d come down, and there was no doubt now that one awfully pissed-off Slayer was standing in the middle of the room. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just be a few hours behind you.”
“Willow?” Tara asked. “Is there anything I can do to h-help?”
“I’m not sure. There are just so many things we don’t know!” Willow exclaimed in frustration. She paced as she talked, trying to figure out the angles. “It can’t be coincidence; the attacks here and in Devon must mean that the Turok-han are onto us. Maybe they sensed that the coven was shoring up the seal on the Hellmouth. But how? And why send just one here? We’ve got to find out what’s going on as soon as possible, and that means going to Devon. The fastest way would be to teleport, but I don’t have enough energy to bring someone along. I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone here either! What if more of those things come?” she frowned. “Not that Devon will be much safer. If they try again ... I should be ready the second my feet touch the ground.”
To fight, Tara realized she meant. She needs to be ready to fight the second she comes out of... “Teleport?” she repeated faintly.
“Yeah. I guess you can ride with Kennedy but I really wish...unless...” Suddenly something sparked in the green eyes. “How do you feel about using borrowed power?” Instantly, the redhead launched into persuasive mode. “It’s not dark magic, it’s all good, pure white shimmery stuff...”
“You’re going to lend me power?” Tara asked in confusion.
“Not me,” Willow shook her head, “the coven. Just enough to teleport. I can show you how. I’ll be the conduit and I’ll be with you all the way, but you’ll be doing it under your own, er, someone else’s steam.” Suddenly remembering the other woman in the room, she turned to her guiltily, “I wish I could take you, Ken, but this is witchy stuff and -”
“It’s fine,” Kennedy said curtly. She grabbed her cell phone, already thinking about the logistics of her trip. “Do what you have to and don’t mind me. I’m going to go make some arrangements. I’ll bring the books, and anything else you think we might need.”
Willow nodded gratefully. In turn, she started punching numbers on the cordless. “Can you be ready in fifteen minutes?” she asked Tara. “I’ll set it up. Pack light, ok? Nothing more than what you can wear or carry.”
***
In the end, it took more than an hour for Willow to explain what she had in mind and to make sure that Tara got it. Then they had to pack and coordinate with the coven of witches across the sea. By the time they were ready to try, Kennedy was long gone, en route to the nearest airport.
Something else was up, but Tara couldn’t put her finger on it. She’d seen Willow in full, frazzled Scooby mode before but there was something different about today somehow. It was like the redhead was focused but also partly distracted the whole time, as if part of her mind were constantly elsewhere.
The teleportation spell, for instance. The two of them had synched on spells before, and Willow was an experienced conduit. Mostly Tara had to concentrate on being a good receiver, and memorize some incantations. It should’ve been easy. Instead, it took them several tries. They kept “falling out of phase” as Willow put it, practically snapping with impatience before they finally locked the spell down.
At first, Tara attributed it to the attack itself. Obviously none of them had anticipated this. The plans they’d made had centered on the Hellmouths, the active one in Cleveland and the dormant one in what used to be Sunnydale. It was pretty straightforward - the Slayers watched one, the witches the other, with Angel and his friends as back-up. The attack in England had blindsided them.
It wasn’t until after they arrived in Devon that Tara began to suspect that there might also be another reason.
Teleportation was an experience Tara would never be eager to repeat. It was like being pulled in ten million different directions and then put back together again - all in the space of a few seconds. Unnerving didn’t begin to describe it.
As for how it felt to re-connect with solid ground... the blonde witch nearly fell to her knees as her head whirled and her stomach heaved. The sensation was horrible. It was as if the teleportation spell had sent her body and essence whirling into the ether, and now, just as suddenly it brought her full stop.
It was a pity because ordinarily Tara would’ve enjoyed her surroundings, which was a stark contrast from suburban California. As it was, all she could absorb was a vague impression of bright blue skies, grass-covered hills and deep valleys, and somewhere...was that the smell of the sea?
“Welcome to England,” Willow began almost cheerfully, when it became obvious that they weren’t going to be attacked on sight. Then she noticed that her companion was turning into several shades of green.
“Oh no, Tara, are you alright?” she asked as she tried to steady the taller girl.
“I’m o-okay. Though that’s n-not the way I’d want to t-travel all the time,” Tara admitted shakily.
“Sorry, sweetie, I’d forgotten how unpleasant teleporting can be,” Willow said sympathetically. “Guess I got used to it after the first fifty times I threw up. Give yourself a minute before trying to move. Better yet, why don’t we sit down for awhile?”
The blonde woman nodded, then winced as the motion set her head reeling. Well that was a mistake. Willow gently guided her down till they were sitting on the grass. Or at least she was sitting, while the redhead remained semi-crouched on one knee.
She must be worried about her friends. Tara reminded herself that Willow had spent a lot of time with the coven witches, in fact, more time than she had with the Scoobies, in recent years. “Why d-don’t you go ahead? I just need a moment.”
Willow hesitated. She shut her eyes for a second, reaching out with her senses. “I’m not picking up any bad vibes but...” she trailed off, obviously reluctant to leave. “Are you sure?”
“I’m just dizzy. I’ll be f-fine soon,” Tara insisted. As soon as my legs stop feeling like they’re made of butter and the world stops spinning.
The hacker wavered, but Tara knew she’d guessed correctly when Willow finally nodded. She took the blonde woman’s backpack and added it to the one on her shoulder. “I’ll just head over there. See that house?” They were on a hill, and she pointed at a wooden structure that was a large dot at the bottom of the slope. “I’ll get someone to help you.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll be okay.” Tara tried to smile reassuringly. “Go, I won’t be long.”
Someone came anyway. A friendly middle-aged woman with a firm step climbed up the hill, and once Tara felt better, began guiding her down it. In a lilting accent, the woman spoke about the attack, but assured her that though people had been hurt, the strike had been firmly repulsed. The common consensus seemed to be that the danger was over for now.
The solid, two-storey wooden building at the foot of the hill turned out to be the coven’s house of healing. Up close, it looked weathered though no less strong, and about it was an aura of comforting warmth. Tara didn’t need to be told that many generations of witches had passed through its doors.
The door opened into a wide hallway at the end of which was a large main room. There she saw several beds laid out, and counted ten that were, sadly, occupied. The friendly woman excused herself, going to one of the injured.
It was easy to spot Willow, with her long red hair and slim figure. She was standing at the far end of the room, talking to someone who was lying on one of the beds.
The blonde witch began to make her way to them. Then she saw Willow break into a smile at something the prone woman said. It was a big, full-blown, I’d-laugh-if-we-weren’t-surrounded-by-injured-people smile.
It stopped her in her tracks. Suddenly Tara knew, as good as if someone had whispered in her ear, that the woman on the bed was - what was her name? - Althea. This was the person who’d been the cause of Willow’s distress and distraction since this morning.
Tara told herself she was being silly. They were in a roomful of milling people, and there was nothing even the slightest bit suggestive about the way the two women were speaking. Except... it was like there was an invisible shield around them, as if they were interacting within their own unseen bubble of privacy.
The injured witch propped herself up on the bed, and Tara was startled by another flash of red. It was a little easier to see her now, the pert, playful features, and dark eyes that glinted up at Willow teasingly.
Then Tara watched as her redhead, a tender expression on her face, bent closer towards the auburn-haired, almond-eyed girl...
Her breath caught. Tara had half a mind to step forward, to find out who this girl was, to make her own presence felt and discover why Willow was looking at her that way - until she heard, of all people, Kennedy’s voice in her head.
“Maybe the question you should be asking is why someone who’s leaving in a week and a half is even thinking about things like competition.” So full of insight, so easily ignored. Until this moment, because now was when it really mattered.
She needed air. Tara murmured an excuse which no one seemed to hear, and quickly made her exit. She hoped that Willow hadn’t noticed her because she badly needed to think.
Her steps got quicker the closer she got to the door until, for the second time in as many days, Tara found herself fleeing.