Has arrived.... and for those of you thinking naughty thoughts... I say only this... AHEM! Willow has just had a baby folks... it's gonna be awhile...
Here We Go!
_________________________
Previously in TYA
“Emily has often spoke fondly of Ms. Henckle”, Tara noted, “I’m sure she’ll be incredibly excited to be in her class again.”
---
“Mrs. Rosenberg-Maclay”, Charlotte cut-in, “given Emily’s recent test scores it would not be unreasonable to suggest that your daughter’s intelligence level could be bordering on genius. If not in fact be genius.”
---
Ghaena had been kind and very patient in her tutorials with Emily over the past seven months. But somehow, in the past few days since Michelle’s birth, the priestess had seemed suddenly agitated with the slow going nature of Emily’s training.
---
I received this package by post yesterday”, he stated defeated, pulling an overnight FedEx envelope from his briefcase and removing from it a black feather and a handwritten note. “Dear Giles”, he read aloud, “What does this mean? Love, Buffy. P.S. Willow had her baby.” He set the two objects down on the table. “I would have preferred a phone call.”
“It’s a raven feather”, said Tara, examining the object. “Buffy, where did you get this?”
“Ghaena had it”, Buffy explained.
“And she gave it to you?” The wiccan pressed.
“Sort of… it was in her hair. She asked us to burn it.”
“There’s blood on it”, the blonde noted softly. “The Raven is a totem animal of Morrigan”, she explained, turning to her wife.
“Morrigan”, Willow said in alarm. “I thought we bound her to that tree. Do you think she got out?”
---
“So this sorceress lady is lose again?” questioned Buffy.
“She’s more than a sorceress”, Giles interrupted. “She’s a priestess of the goddess.”
“Like Ghaena?” asked Willow, then adding, as realization dawned on her, “Or… exactly like Ghaena?”
“So wait, are you saying that Morrigan is Ghaena?” asked Buffy.
---
Ghaena nodded. “Morrigan…” She said after a moment, “You were my sister once. My sister in faith and practice. Knowing what you once were allows me to see past what you have become. But not far. You want to clear your name for what reason?”
“I want to go home”, Morrigan responded, stepping into light that filtered through the office window, revealing her ebony black hair and flashing green eyes. “I want to go home to Avalon.”
---
“You!” She barked loudly, grabbing Ghaena by the throat and slamming her up against the tree the priestess had been hiding behind. “What are you doing here? What do you want with Emily? Who are you?”
---
“Buffy!” Tara called out, running over to the slayer from the front porch. She paused, eyeing Ghaena warily, “Are you Morrigan? Tell me the truth.”
“No”, the priestess vehemently replied, “I am not.”
---
Ghaena quickly placed the paper on the petite girl’s shoulder and scrawled a shot message, handing it to Tara.
“Morrigan”, Tara read aloud, “Priestess of Avalon, aspect of Badb, warrior goddess = NOT EVIL. Often confused with Morgan le Fay, Vivienne’s sister, who conspired to and ultimately succeeded in bringing about the death of King Arthur and the destruction of Avalon = EVIL.”
“Do ye understand now?”
“So they’re not the same person?” asked Buffy.
“No.” Ghaena answered.
---
“This way”, motioned Tara, leading the group into the woods at the edge of the campus. They moved on, occasionally stumbling on soft earth and over rocks and twigs and brambles. Finally, after they had been moving in the same direction for about ten minutes, Willow and Tara brought them to a halt.
“There”, Willow stated, pointing to a gnarled, leafless tree. “I think”, she added, her voice filling with puzzlement and fear.
“Oh my”, breathed Tara, taking in the sight. When they had bound the entity to the tree, it had taken the shape of a sort of skeletal bird stuck forever in a pose as if it were crying out. But now, the trunk had split up the center, as if it had been struck by a lightening bolt, the middle charred and broken, flaying the old bird in half.
---
“It’s a trap. RUN!” she cried out, turning her back to the tree seeing the ground begin to break near the other girls as tree roots suddenly burst through the ground around their feet attempting to drag them down.
The others took off swiftly to the edge of the woods where they had come from, inadvertently leaving Ghaena behind as a strong root took hold of her right leg above the ankle.
“Morrigan!” she cried out in desperation.
“What are you doing?” the slayer berated the dark-haired woman, “Why aren’t you helping her?”
The dark lady looked back to where Buffy lay struggling now with Ghaena. Raising her hand, she quietly muttered, “Teasairg.”
Suddenly, the dangerous vines began to retreat into the ground, leaving Buffy and Ghaena lying on top of the cold dirt, gasping for breath.
---
“Willow…” Tara whispered softly, “I know that you’re going think… well… you might think that I’m a little crazy for saying this…”
“What?” she asked softly.
“I believe…that is… I don’t think that we bound”, she sent an indicative glance toward Morrigan, “… to the tree. I think it was Morgan.”
“What makes you so sure?” Willow queried.
“Didn’t you feel it?” Tara continued to keep her voice low. “The magick. The stuff coming off the tree was totally dark. But when … she… cast the off the roots, everything felt lighter, like it had been touched by absolute good.”
---
“Maybe we should let her step up Emily’s training”, Willow offered. “This… thing… whoever it is, whatever it is, I want her to have some kind of defense against it.”
“I agree”, Tara concurred.
---
The two priestesses turned to leave as well, but Buffy intercepted them, giving Morrigan a particularly cold stare.
“I don’t trust you.” She stated evenly. “How anyone can just stand by and watch their so-called friend fight for their life while you do nothing, doesn’t exactly scream ‘good-guy’.”
---
“You’re awfully calm for someone who was screaming their lungs out for help”, Buffy snarled. “You harm one hair on my goddaughter’s head and I swear, I will find a way to kill you, and I’ll make it painful.”
Ghaena nodded at the slayer, in a way that could have been considered a small bow, before taking her leave of the slayer’s front yard, Morrigan quietly in tow.
“And you”, Buffy called to the dark-haired priestess, “You’re not off the hook either. Just because your ‘friend’ can’t be killed doesn’t explain what took you so long to act. I’m not sure what you did to call off that tree, but it seemed simple enough. I don’t recall you even breaking a sweat. So you be aware, I’m watching you too. You look at Willow or Tara or anyone in their family so much as sideways…”
“I understand”, Morrigan smiled, “You’re loyalty to your family is more than admirable. I shall be on my best behavior.” With that she turned and went to catch up with Ghaena who was now further down the road, nearing the intersection.
Buffy watched them go intently. Her focus on the retreating women so great, that she did not notice the Raven perched in a small tree across the street, scrutinizing her every move.
And now on with the next installment...
******************************
A month passed uneventfully. This evening the Rosenberg-Maclay household was a buzz with the hustle and bustle of preparations to attend the Sunnydale Elementary School Parent/Teacher night. Each parent had been asked to bring a refreshment of sorts, and under pressure, Tara had agreed to brownies. She and Emily were hard at work in the kitchen, pulling the last tray from the oven and slicing the brownies into neat squares. Willow was supposed to be in the master bedroom giving Michelle her last feeding before they were to leave. That is what she was supposed to be doing. But Tara found her sitting in the living room, crying at the television set, an equally distressed Michelle wailing in her arms.
Normally a sight like this would have caused the blonde’s heart to wrench, but it had recently become so common, that it did nothing more but to annoy her.
“Honey”, she said, her voice sticky sweet, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s so beautiful”, Willow blubbered, indicating the screen.
Tara glanced at it dismissively. “It’s a squirrel… eating a nut.” She stated.
“I know”, the redhead cried, “Isn’t nature beautiful?”
Tara wanted nothing more than to respond to her wife’s comment by banging her own head repeatedly on the wall. However, she knew this would do nothing to cure Willow’s postpartum depression. So instead, she stepped over to the television set and turned it off.
“I was watching that”, Willow protested between sniffles.
“Honey, we’re running late.” Tara explained, “You need to feed Michelle so we can go.”
“Is that all I am to you anymore?” Willow asked indignantly, “A baby feeding machine?”
Tara slapped her right hand over her eyes, rubbing it down her face in exasperation. “No, sweetie of course not”, she answered, “But we are running behind. Parent/Teacher night, remember? We missed it last year and I don’t want to miss it again. Especially with Emily skipping a grade. We can’t leave until you feed Michelle, unless you want to breast feed her in front of the entire PTA.”
Willow’s eyes went wide at the visual. “We’ll be in the bedroom”, she said, standing abruptly and scurrying down the hall.
“Let me know when you’re ready to leave”, Tara called after her. She let out a frustrated sigh and collapsed into the sofa, shaking her head.
“Mommy?” asked Emily from the kitchen door.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Is Mama okay?”
“She’s fine, honey”, Tara assured her, “Mama’s just… having a bad day.”
“Is it my fault?” Emily asked worriedly.
Tara quickly moved to kneel in front of her daughter, taking her two small hands into her own. “No, no, no, no, no”, she said fervently, “Absolutely not. I don’t know how to explain it, but it is most definitely not your fault. Okay?”
“Okay”, said Emily, still puzzled.
“Now, why don’t you go wash your hands of all the brownie crumbs and I’ll finish stacking them on a plate to go, alright?”
Emily nodded and complied, heading to the bathroom.
*****
The school grounds were quite crowded with the parents and siblings of the elementary school students. Emily clung to Tara’s hand, the idea of being out, not only after dark, but at school, was more than a little strange to her. The muffled sounds of parents talking to other parents in their deep grown-up voices echoing through the fluorescent-lit hallways gave her a sense of unease. The school was a safe place, during the day, but at night under false lighting it seemed a strange and foreign place.
“Mommy?” she stage-whispered, getting Tara’s attention.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Do you think if I asked nicely, Mama would carry me?” Emily requested plaintively.
“Honey, Mama’s got her hands full with Michelle”, Tara replied, “Besides, you’re almost eight years old. Don’t you think you’re a little old to be carried?”
“No”, came the soft answer. Emily did her best impression of a pouting puppy.
“What’s up?” asked Willow, as Tara brought them all to a stop.
“Emily wants you to carry her”, the blonde explained.
“Okay”, the hacker obliged, “If you don’t mind carrying Michelle.”
“Will”, Tara chided.
“What?” she answered, slightly befuddled. “You can’t carry Michelle?”
“It’s not that…”
“Then… what?”
“Don’t you think Emily is getting a little big to be carried?” Tara mused.
Willow considered this a moment. “Emily”, she said, “Why do you want me to carry you?”
“There are too many grown-ups”, the little girl explained, “I’m afraid of getting stepped on.”
Willow turned back to her wife. “Makes sense to me.”
“Will”, the wiccan sighed.
“What?” Willow asked again, her tone turning to frustration.
“She is a big girl who is perfectly capable of walking on her own two feet”, Tara replied, the last part of her sentence directed right at Emily.
“She’s afraid of getting stepped on, Tar”, Willow retorted, “I don’t think that’s unreasonable.”
“Please don’t make me the bad guy”, Tara sighed.
“I’m sorry, I just don’t understand what’s wrong with me carrying her.” The redhead sniped.
“There’s nothing wrong with it”, her lover explained, “she just needs to learn to walk on her own two feet.”
“She can walk on her own two feet”, Willow argued, “she’s been walking on her own two feet since she was ten months old. Why can’t she have a little rest? I don’t mind carrying her!”
“Don’t fight! Don’t fight!” Emily cried. “It’s okay, I can walk. See?” She took a few steps forward. “See? I’m okay.”
“Oh Emily”, said Tara, kneeling down to her eye level. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to fight. Mama and I have just been really tired lately, so we get upset at silly things.”
“Don’t be upset”, Emily stated softly. “I can walk.”
“No”, Tara smiled gently. “I’ll carry you. Is it okay if I carry you… instead of Mama?”
Her daughter nodded quietly.
“Okay”, her mother replied, rising back up to her feet, “you whole the brownies, and I’ll hold you.”
After Emily was settled into Tara’s arms, the family made its way over to the refreshment table to drop off the brownie plate.
“Oh these look wonderful Mrs. Rosenberg”, said Patricia Horton, the head of the PTA as she graciously accepted the offered sweets from Tara.
“Rosenberg-Maclay”, Emily proudly corrected.
“Oh, I’m sorry”, Patricia apologized.
“It’s alright, it can be a mouthful”, Willow smirked, causing Tara to blush and stifle a laugh.
“Call me Tara”, the blonde smiled after a moment of regaining herself. “And this is Willow.”
“Hi”, the woman grinned, “I’d shake your hands but you look as though you have them full. I’m Patricia, but call me Pat.”
“Thanks, Pat”, said Willow.
“Can I interest either of you in a lemonade?” she offered, lifting the ladle to a paper cup.
“NO!”, belted Willow, a little to fervently, causing Pat to jump a spill some of the drink onto the tabletop. “I mean… no thank you”, she added, recovering.
“Oh”, stated Patricia, cautiously setting the ladle back into the punch bowl. “Well, um… I think some of the other parents brought soda pop. It’s at the other end of the table.”
“We’re fine, thanks, Pat”, assured Tara. “We just came to drop off the brownies… oh… and meet the teachers… of course.” She gave her wife an odd stare.
“Yeah”, the redhead concurred, catching Tara’s glance.
“Kindergarten is in building “A” room A1”, Pat began her rehearsed speech, “First through Fourth grade is meeting in Building B, 100 hall: First grade is in 101, Second in room 102, third in 103 and, fourth in…”
“104?” Willow concluded.
“Right”, the woman nodded.
“What about for G.A.T.E. students?” Tara asked, adjusting Emily a little in her arms.
“Oh, they’re meeting in Building B, 200 hall: first in 201, second in 20…”
“I think we’ve got it”, smiled Willow, interrupting her again. “Thanks.”
Patricia smiled congenially, silently upset at being cut-off. She took a small step backwards, indicating her separation from the conversation, and moved to help another set of parents dropping off food.
“Well, baby-girl”, said Willow, “point us in the right direction.”
Emily stuck out a small finger in the direction of Building B, and the group made their way there. Two hallways, one courtyard and one stairway (which Tara insisted Emily climb on her own) later they arrived in the brightly lit classroom. The walls were decorated with student art, and motivational posters saying things like, “Dream to Achieve, Achieve the Dream!” with pictures of mountain climbers scaling a cliff-face and whatnot.
“This isn’t really our classroom”, Emily explained knowingly. “Normally we’re in the 300 hall upstairs.”
Tara and Willow nodded at the information, leading Emily to sit with them in a group of unoccupied desks near the center of the classroom. Other parents slowly filtered in and sat down, discussing amongst themselves. Willow and Tara noted that they were the only parents to have brought their child along for the evening, and found this odd.
“It’s so frustrating”, Tara said softly to Willow. “So many parents try to keep their child’s lives a secret from them. When I was Emily’s age, I used to dread Parent/Teacher night. My mom and dad would disappear to the school for three hours, and I had no idea what my teachers would say about me. My mother would always tell me of course. But not dad.”
“Maybe he just figured that your mom would tell you”, Willow offered.
“I don’t think so”, Tara sighed, “I think he enjoyed the power it gave him. ‘I know more about you than you do’ type thing. At least that’s what he made me believe.” Tara’s voice grew distant at the memory.
“Hey”, soothed the redhead, stroking her cheek, “that’s over.”
Tara leaned into the touch. “I know”, she smiled.
“Here she is!” whispered Emily excitedly tapping her mommy’s arm. “Here’s Ms. Henckle!”
The two women looked up over the seated heads of the rest of the parents to see Ms. Henckle enter the room. She was of average height, and slender. She wore a lilac colored dress that nicely offset her dark hair and brown eyes. She leaned casually against the front of the desk and waited for the room to quiet, until all eyes were focused on her.
“Good evening”, she began, her voice mellow and soothing, “I am Ms. Henckle, the fourth grade G.A.T.E. instructor. It’s a pleasure to see so many parents here tonight. Although…I confess, I would have liked to see some more students. Hello, Emily.” She waved. Emily waved back excitedly, puffing her small chest out in pride. Willow and Tara couldn’t help but feel a little proud themselves. “For parents whose children are in the G.A.T.E. program it is essential that everyone in the family play an active role in supporting these young intellectuals. Your children were chosen for the program for a reason. Not only are they extraordinarily bright, but they show great promise to succeed. Not only in school, but in their lives at home and beyond…”
Ms. Henckle continued on for another fifteen minutes or so, stressing the importance of a strong and healthy home life, as well as how a child should be involved in their academic progress, and not left in the dark with hidden report cards and secret parent/teacher meetings. The other parents shifted nervously, whereas Willow and Tara allowed themselves to smile more and more openly, each feeling the distinct need to pat each other, and Emily, on the back. Finally, Ms. Henckle drew to a close and invited parents to speak with her one on one before moving on to other classrooms.
Tara and Willow stayed back until most of the other parents were gone, before approaching her at the desk.
“Ms. Henckle?” addressed Willow, “Hi, I’m Willow Rosenberg-Maclay and this is my wife Tara. We’re Emily’s parents.”
“A pleasure to finally meet you”, smiled Ms. Henckle, “and please, call me Regan.”
“We’ve heard so much about you”, said Tara, “Emily is so excited to be in your class again.”
“And I’m excited to have her”, Regan beamed, “she’s my brightest student. Aren’t you, Emily?”
“I try”, the little redhead blushed.
“She does more than try”, chuckled the teacher, “she runs me ragged.”
“I don’t mean to”, Emily swiftly apologized, suddenly worried as to where the conversation was heading.
“I mean in a good way”, Ms. Henckle assured her and her parents. “She’s always got me looking for new challenges for her to try. New things for her to learn. Even now, after skipping a grade and being placed in the accelerated program, she’s the head of the class. I see great things for her for her in the future. Provided her home life stays as stable as it seems.”
“I think we can guarantee that”, Willow smiled, winking subtly at Tara, who blushed in reply.
“So”, Regan pressed on, “out of curiosity, what instrument is she studying?”
“I’m sorry?” asked Tara, confused.
“It’s just that there have been a few times that I’ve asked Emily if she’d like to stay after for a little extra study time and she’s always said that she has to be home in time for her lessons. I assumed she was taking an instrument.”
“Oh”, said Willow, “Well…”
“Which I think is wonderful”, Ms, Henckle went on, “music has been proven to aide in the understanding of mathematics. And given Emily’s proficiency at math, I must say it’s definitely working.”
“She’s not taking an instrument”, the hacker explained.
“Oh”, remarked Regan.
“But she is meeting with a tutor occasionally”, Tara offered.
“What sort of tutor?” Regan questioned.
“Magick!” Emily gleefully answered.
“Magic?” puzzled her teacher, “You mean like slight of hand?”
“I can float a pencil”, Emily announced, “Want to see?”
“Sure”. “No.” Regan and Willow spoke on top of each other, Regan giving Willow an odd look.
“I mean”, Willow went on, “not without your supplies, baby-girl.”
“I don’t need my supplies to float a pencil, Mama”, Emily replied, as if what Willow had said was the silliest thing she had ever heard.
“Ha…haha…” Willow mock-laughed, “quite the little magician she is.”
“We should really get going”, intercepted Tara, “it’s almost Emily’s bedtime. It was nice to finally meet you, Ms. Henckle.”
“Regan”, she pressed again, “please.”
“It was nice to meet you, Regan”, the blonde amended. “But we really must run on.”
“Yes, it’s almost Em’s bedtime and the baby needs changing”, Willow added.
“Drive safely”, Ms. Henckle smiled, “Emily, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay”, she said, waving her small little hand.
The family quickly made its way out of the building and into the courtyard across from the parking lot. After walking the short distance, they all piled into the family van, Willow securing Michelle in the car seat in the back before climbing into the driver’s seat. Emily sat next to her little sister, her face contemplative.
“Mama?” she asked after a moment.
“Yes, baby-girl”, Willow replied, focusing on the road.
“Is magick bad?”
“Oh, no, honey”, Tara assured her. “It’s just that… the type of magick you do, most people don’t understand, and your Mama and I don’t want you to get hurt or be treated differently because what you believe is different from what they do.”
“What’s wrong with being different?” Emily queried.
“Nothing”, her mother replied.
“Then why is it so bad that other people know that I am different?” Emily’s questions were good and honest ones, and Tara suddenly found herself at a loss for words. “Remember on the first day of kindergarten, when I was just a little kid…” Willow and Tara both smiled at their young daughter’s choice of words. “And you said that if the teacher asked me what my daddy did I was supposed to say that 'he' worked on computers… But I forgot and when she asked I said ‘she’ instead.” The two women shared a glance as they remembered that particular phone call from that particular day. “But…”, Emily went on, “Even if I hadn’t forgotten… I think I would have said ‘she’ anyway. Because Mama is my daddy, and even though that’s different… it’s okay.”
Willow brought the van to a stop in the driveway out front of their home, the sudden stop of the engine causing a strange, vacuumed silence to fall over the interior of the car. The redhead swiveled in her seat to look at her wise little girl. “You’re right, baby-girl”, she said, stifling a tear, “It is okay. It’s wonderful and special and definitely okay. And magick is okay too. But we… your mother and I, want to keep it a family thing, alright? Just for us…And Ghaena”, she added as an afterthought.
“Can you do that for us, sweetie?” Tara asked, also turning in her chair.
Emily thought about it a moment and then nodded a vigorous affirmative.
“Thank you, darling”, smiled Willow, “Now… bedtime.”
The small redhead let out a disgruntled moan, but obliged and, after she had helped her parents by carrying in her little sister’s diaper bag, went to her room and prepared for bed.
*****
TBC...
Edited by: DarkWiccan at: 7/25/02 12:27:24 am
by Loco2 » Wed Jul 24, 2002 12:26 pm 
i don't know why this made me laugh - but it did. thanks.
And Willow and Tara having a little fight, it's great, I love it. It's what a relationship is like and I like that being in there. 
she's already got her hand full with everything else...ahhh...the plot thickens...
She's sooo cute. 
NO ONE caught the lemonade joke.
I guess I'll just have to TRY to wait patiently to see what you throw at us next. 
