This is a relatively short update (I'm visiting with my mom *G*). This really doesn't end on an angsty note for some reason. I'll have to get back to the angst next time ... I kinda' miss it *evil cackling***Yuri: We'll see how that turns out *G* But knowing the NYC crew, and their senses of humor, I doubt I could do the fading into the background thing.
**Mufin: Heh ... I hope I get a chance to see you in NY ... I love it when people talk my ear off about how awesom I am
**Puff: It's hard not to like people when you know why they do what they do *shrug* Or maybe that's just me - I like everybody. Well, except psycho killer-types, but I've never met any of those. But, ummm ... I digress. And they'll find plenty of stuff in Tara's mom's stuff ... whether or not it helps Willow ... that remains to be seen.
**jomarch: That's three for dinner *G* And I'll try to leave you in a happy place when I take off for NY, but I have no idea if I'm going to HAVE any more happy places *evil smirk* Well, except for the ending ... that will, of course, be happy. But if I can swing it, I'll avoid making it the Bloody Cliffhanger I promised (or threatened *g*) Puff. And congrats on the Cool Monster Fighter *G*
**LeatherQueen: Glad you liked it ... and Tara's reaction follows *G*
Title: Answering Darkness Part 38 – Being Willow Rosenberg
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to pink_overalls@yahoo.com
Summary: Giles and Buffy continue the research, and Willow gets back.
Spoiler Warning: Up to and including "Tabula Rasa" in Season 6.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm just borrowing them because Season 6 angst is running high, and I want my happy ending now, dammit! So I'm writing it … but it'll be awhile until I get to that part, so bear with me (or "bare" with me if you're naughty).
Rating: PG-13
Notes: For the purpose of this story, all events of Tabula Rasa took place exactly as shown in the series; however, no subsequent episodes will affect this piece.
Answering Darkness Part 38
Being Willow Rosenberg
By Sassette
"' … and she will be tricked into Hell, caught between the darkness without, and the darkness within, and only the darkness can save her,'" Giles read aloud, a frown etching his features.
"Your face could freeze that way," Buffy observed, handing over the cocoa.
"Oh, thank you," Giles said absently, sipping at the sweet, hot drink.
"Now what was that you were mumbling?" Buffy asked, sitting down and grabbing a book.
"It's … a think I have a partial on this prophecy. 'The Devil, reborn to her line - The Devil and The Devil's descendant, as one. The power of that soul shall be hated by Him, and she will be tricked into Hell, caught between the darkness without, and the darkness within, and only the darkness can save her'," Giles repeated. "Clearly, the Devil and the Devil reborn are Margaret and Willow," he postulated.
"And the whole darkness savey thingy?" Buffy asked.
"Frankly, I have no idea," Giles admitted, a look of frustration crossing his face. "It … hmm …" he said, ordering his thoughts. "It … a different bit of text has this to say: 'He who is formless and nameless, who delights in shadowed trickery cannot be commanded by any but one, descended from the line that kept him from Earth and Sky. His wrath shall be known to those so descended, and he will cause them great harm from the shadows, turning them against themselves, until such a one is too weak to defeat him.' I think they're actually from the same prophecy."
"And that means …?" Buffy prodded.
"The text the Watcher's Council has, and a few we have here, are excerpts from an older text, written down by the descendants of Ancient Celtic Druids during the 12th century. Much of it had been passed down in their oral tradition, and finally transcribed by a very powerful sorcerer, along with his personal notes and observations. Visions. That sort of thing. That particular text has been lost, and -"
"As much as I appreciate these random history lessons, I was asking about that bit you just read. What's it mean?" Buffy tried again.
"I'm not sure, but it seems to say that, The Trickster is attempting to weaken Willow. That somehow, she … she has the power to command him," Giles said. "If he's feeding her Dark Magicks, getting her addicted to them, and now overloading her body with them, who's to say that she isn't able to command those same magicks without his permission? Usually, a Source can deny a spellcaster's entreaty, unless the caster is more powerful than the Source, in which case the Source can be commanded. But The Trickster is … well; he's a God. For Willow to be able to command him, she would have to be … more powerful."
"So Willow's a God," Buffy said flatly. "I'm so not buying that."
"Yes, well, not to say she is a God, exactly," Giles said. "But in arcane battles, defeating an enemy gives one a certain power over them. Pitting yourself magickally against a magick foe, it's … it's like a duel, of sorts. And the loser of the duel is … I guess you could say 'indebted' … to the winner."
"So Willow unloaded some major witchy power on a God in a past life, and so that God owes her some favors?" Buffy asked. "Then how come he can mess with her?"
"I'm not sure," Giles said, frowning. "I suppose Willow either hasn't come into her power, or she hasn't actually tried to command him. But it’s as if … it’s like her birthright, Buffy. Her destiny lies in defeating the Trickster. Or, at least in facing him."
"So what happens if Willow gets all large with the butch on this guy?" Buffy went on, suddenly feeling like they were playing twenty questions. Couldn't Giles ever explain everything all at once?
"'Large with the butch?'" Giles responded, confusion written all over his face. "I'm not even going to try to decipher that one. I assume you mean to ask what would happen if Willow attempted to command The Trickster. Unfortunately, that would require active casting, which would be a very dangerous thing for Willow."
"Actually, it's a good thing," Buffy said earnestly. "It would get the yucky stuff out of her system, and she'd probably be okay."
"No, she would not," Giles said, a note of finality in his tone. "She could very well be one spell away from being so addicted, that she won't stop casting until she kills herself, likely taking half of Sunnydale with her."
"It could get that bad?" Buffy asked. "I mean … this is Willow. Responsible. Level-headed. Smart."
"Yes, it's Willow," Giles snapped. "And Willow has a problem. One spell could be all it takes to … to send her down a spiral of destruction."
"Spirals Bad," Buffy declared. "Big 'no' on the Spiral of Destruction."
"Good," Giles said, turning back to the prophecy in his lap. "I'm glad we've got that settled."
"Anything you need me to look at?" Buffy asked, pushing the top book on the stack with her forefinger, seeing how far she could move it without toppling it over the edge.
"What? Oh, yes," Giles said, grabbing a book seemingly at random from the pile. "Read that one."
"Gotcha," Buffy said, taking a fortifying breath and diving into the world of research.
They read in silence, only the occasional sound of a turning page interrupting the tableau.
"Where is Willow, anyway?" Buffy finally asked, looking around the room. "She go back upstairs to be with her honey?"
"No, she went for a walk," Giles said distractedly, his eyes still on the book.
"She did what?" Buffy asked incredulously. "She … how could you let her go for a walk with that Construct thing after her?"
"Buffy," Giles said patiently, looking up at the Slayer. "I cannot even begin to imagine the things going on in Willow's mind and heart right now. She said she needed some air, and she needed to be alone, and I respect her wishes. She also promised to be extra-careful times ten," he added wryly. "I didn’t like it, either, but … she’s an adult and has to make her own decisions. I certainly have no authority over her. Now get back to your reading, and leave Willow alone. She needs this time."
"Fine," Buffy said, sitting back with a huff. "But don't come crying to me when the Construct walks up with a ransom note from The Trickster saying, 'Give Me the World, or the Redhead Gets It'."
"She will be fine," Giles said again.
"Extra-careful times ten?" Buffy asked, seeking reassurance.
"Most definitely," Giles agreed, turning back to his book, immediately frowning as he attempted to puzzle out the meaning.
Buffy subsided, going back to her book, reading about the Hell God Triumvirate as Giles continued to unravel the ravings of a madman.
“Hey,” Tara said later, wandering into the room, her eyes on the floor and her arms full of books. “I … I have some, umm … things. These books are … pretty old.”
“Well, let’s see what you have,” Giles said, closing his book and putting it on the table, rubbing his tired eyes and trying to stop the frustration flowing through him. He felt like he was getting nowhere fast, the scraps of text having multiple meanings without the full context.
“Here,” Tara said simply, unloading the pile of books into Giles’ arms as he stood. He cradled the books carefully, sifting through the stack. Most had no titles, just a plain leather binding, and a feeling of oldness to them.
“Did you read through any of these?” he asked curiously, opening the first book.
“No, I … I just found them. There were some little compartments in the trunk, like where I found a crystal when I was a little girl? They were kind of hard to open. Where’s Willow?” she asked, looking up and immediately noting Willow’s absence.
“This is … this seems to be a spell book of some sort, but it’s … there’s some writing here at the front that seems newer,” Giles said, flipping a few pages and comparing how faded the ink was towards the beginning compared to later in the text. “That’s odd. Usually newer writing would be in the back,” he continued, frowning a little.
“Willow?” Tara asked again.
“Oh, she went for a walk,” Giles said absently, sitting back down and placing the stack of books on the table. “She’s … hmm,” he said, losing his train of thought as he fell into his research.
“A walk?” Tara said slowly. “As in … outside? By herself?”
“Yes, but she’s being extra careful times ten,” Buffy piped in.
“You let her go on a walk all by herself?” Tara demanded, turning on Buffy.
“Hey – I was in the kitchen making cocoa,” Buffy said defensively, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. “If you want to yell at someone, look at Mr. You-Can-Call-Me-Books.”
“Giles?” Tara said again, concern welling up inside of her. Willow could be … anywhere. Or she could be hurt. Or she could get attacked. She could be in the process of being attacked right at that very moment. Concern gave way to panic. “Giles? How long has she been gone?”
“Hmm? What?” Giles said, looking up from his book. “Oh, Willow. About … and hour or so. I suppose she’ll be back any minute.”
“She’s been gone a whole hour?” Tara said, heading towards the door, her agitation clear in her movements. “Anything could have happened in an hour.”
“I forgot to mention the Wrath of Tara in my reasons why letting Willow go on a walk was a bad idea,” Buffy told Giles seriously. “I’ll help you look,” Buffy said, jumping to her feet and heading towards the door.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Giles objected. “And Willow specifically said she wanted to be alone.”
“Willow doesn’t get to be alone right now,” Tara said heatedly. “Or if she wants to be alone, she gets to do it in a room by herself in the house that has the Slayer in it. She does not get to go waltzing out the door like there isn’t a Hell God after her.”
“Hi guys,” Willow said with a smile, waltzing in the door like there wasn’t a Hell God after her. “I just –“
“Where the hell have you been?” Tara demanded, grabbing Willow around the waist and pulling her close, making it impossible for Willow to answer when her lips were greeted by Tara’s in a fiery kiss.
“I guess I won’t help you look,” Buffy said, spinning on her heel and walking back into the living room.
Willow gasped in surprise at Tara’s rather … uncharacteristic greeting. Not that Tara never kissed her like this … no, she had very fond memories of similar smoochies, but certainly not with Buffy standing there and Giles in the next room. Of course, Buffy had just left, and Willow found herself pinned against the front door and unable to consider the matter further as her brain stopped functioning and all she could do was hang on to Tara as she was kissed thoroughly.
“Wha -?” Willow managed to utter, blinking slowly when Tara slowly broke away from the kiss.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” Tara said sternly, looking into Willow’s eyes, her fear draining away as she let her head drop down against Willow’s shoulder and felt her warm and alive body pressed close.
“I, uhhh,” Willow said, her hand drifting up to rest gently on the back of Tara’s head, holding her gently. “I think that was exremely bad negative reinforcement. Not that I’m complaining – no nothing of the complainty variety here.”
Tara let out a weak laugh, then lifted her head and regarded Willow seriously. “I was extremely worried when I came downstairs and found out you were walking all by yourself.”
“I’m perfectly capable of taking a walk,” Willow protested, torn between feeling insulted that Tara seemed to think she needed a keeper and warmed that by her concern. Warmed won out, and Willow’s expression softened. “I’m sorry I worried you, Baby,” she said, kissing Tara lightly. “And, umm … could we kinda’ …move? The doorknob is digging into my back.”
“Oh, Honey,” Tara said immediately, backing off and giving Willow room to step away from the door. Willow immediately stepped back into her arms, holding her. “Did I hurt you?” Tara asked worriedly.
“I’m fine,” Willow said with a happy little sigh, snuggling up against Tara. “But my back is kinda’ … owie.”
“Where? Here?” Tara asked, her hand finding what she thought would be a close approximation of where the doorknob would have hit Willow’s back and rubbing gently.
“Mmm … little lower,” Willow murmured.
“Here?” Tara tried again, moving her hand down slowly.
“Lower,” Willow instructed again.
“There?” Tara asked.
“Right there,” Willow agreed, nodding against Tara’s neck.
“Honey … that’s not your back,” Tara protested with a laugh, even as her hand squeezed the firm flesh.
“It’s not?” Willow asked innocently, lifting her head and looking at Tara with wide eyes.
“All right, you two,” Buffy called from the other room. “We can hear every word you’re saying, and I do >not< need these visuals. We get it. You’re both minxes. No need to demonstrate further.”
“Sorry,” Willow called contritely, even as Tara started laughing, a light blush covering her features.
“So where were you?” Tara asked lightly.
“I … I’ll tell you about it upstairs,” Willow said, tugging on Tara’s hand and moving her towards the stairway.
“I don’t think there’s anything in the Mrmmmfr report about The Trickster,” Buffy called out again.
“Buffy,” Willow said, managing to mix both innocence and exasperation into her tone. “I just have some things to tell Tara.”
“Fine. Abandon the Slayer to the books and go have your snugglies,” Buffy pouted, picking up another book and sighing.
“Can we not discuss ‘snugglies’? Please?” Giles asked slowly.
“Definitely no snugglies,” Willow said, poking her head into the room and nodding. “Just talking. Of the non-spicy variety,” she said emphatically, then started up the stairs.
“No snugglies? None at all?” Tara asked in a whisper, following Willow and getting her mouth right next to her ear.
“Maybe a few,” Willow whispered back, a smug smile crossing her face as she pushed open their bedroom door. “What the Watcher doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”
“Cool,” Tara said, the single word bringing a smile to Willow’s face, as any use of slang by this woman did. There was just something … endearing about the way Tara said some words.
“I went to my mom’s,” Willow said without preamble when Tara shut the door, moving to the bed and sitting down, bouncing a little when she landed.
“Really?” Tara asked, then realized that it made perfect sense. Of course Willow would want to go see her mother. “And? How was it?” she went on warily, hoping that the visit had somehow managed to be a good one.
“Y’know,” Willow said thoughtfully as Tara sat down next to her, taking her hand. She fell back onto the bed, letting her breath leave his in a whoosh of air. “It’s like my whole childhood now makes sense,” she went on in a wondering tone as Tara also fell back, entwining their fingers together. “Y’know, in a sort of 60’s hippie what-the-hell-kind-of-child-rearing-philosophy-is-THAT kind of way,” she said, turning her head and looking at Tara.
“Yeah?” Tara said, a slow smile spreading across her face. “So it was a good visit?”
“It was. Really good. It’s like … I kinda of … I get it now,” Willow went on. “I finally understand that … she’s just a person. A woman. Becoming a mom didn’t make her some kind of super-person who always knew the right thing to do. She just muddled on as best she could, just like the rest of us.”
“That’s a pretty big discovery,” Tara said with a nod, rolling over and resting her head on Willow’s shoulder, putting her leg across Willow’s and her hand lightly on Willow’s chest, resting above her heart.
“Yeah,” Willow said, nodding. “And I don’t know if she’s changed, or if I have. Probably me. But I – I know why she did things the way she did. And I know that she … she and Dad are proud of me.”
“How could they not be?” Tara said. “You’re Willow,” she remarked, as if the fact of being Willow should be a source of pride to anyone who came in contact with the young woman.
“Yeah, I am,” Willow said, a small smile crossing her face. “I … I’ve spent so much time trying to figure out what that really meant, y’know? It’s like … there’s this person that I am, and this person that I’m supposed to be, and I … I couldn’t make them match up.”
“And?” Tara prompted, enjoying the closeness and the sound of Willow’s voice, and the way her breath played against her hair.
“Talking with my mom helped me to figure it out. I’ve always tried to live up to their expectations – doing well in school, being responsible. But today I found out that the only expectation they ever really had was that I go my own way. That I be me,” Willow said.
“So they don’t care if you drop out of college or join a cult or dye your hair green?” Tara asked with a smirk, knowing Willow would never do any of those things.
“They’d probably be okay with the college thing, because I could get a job tomorrow. The cult thing would throw them a little, what with the Jewish thing. And dye my hair green?” Willow wondered aloud. “How ‘Anne of Green Gables’ would that be? ‘But the peddler man told me it would dye my hair a beautiful raven black’,” Willow said grandly.
“You’ve read those books?” Tara asked, lifting her head to look at Willow. Willow merely raised an eyebrow at her. “Sorry, silly question,” Tara conceded with a roll of her eyes. “You’ve read everything.”
“I wanted to be Anne of Green Gables so bad when I was little,” Willow said with a chuckle.
“You >are< Anne of Green Gable,” Tara said dryly, letting her head back down to rest on Willow’s shoulder. “Y’know, it took me years to figure out why the part where Diana married Fred pissed me off. Like she was cheating on Anne or something,” Tara said with a giggle.
“That always pissed me off, too,” Willow said with a puzzled frown. “Will you be my ‘bosom friend’?” she added wickedly, waggling her eyebrows even though Tara couldn’t see.
“I better be your only bosom friend,” Tara responded, letting her hand trail down to cup Willow’s breast.
“Definitely my only bosom friend,” Willow said with a nod and a smile, arching into Tara’s touch. “My mom wants to meet you,” she mumbled with heavy-lidded eyes.
“What?” Tara squeaked, pushing herself up to look down at Willow, pressing down on her breast.
“Ow!” Willow said, her eyes widening.
“Oh, sorry,” Tara said moving her hand quickly off of Willow’s chest and onto the bed. “You okay? That kind of … surprised me.”
“Yeah,” Willow said, rubbing her breast and pouting. “Surprised me too.”
“Awww, honey, I’m really sorry,” Tara apologized, her brow furrowed. “Want me to kiss it and make it better?”
“Yes, please,” Willow said immediately, moving her hand out of the way. Tara dipped her head, letting her lips drift all over Willow’s breast through the fabric of her shirt, slowly covering every inch. With a final kiss, she lifted her head again, looking into Willow’s eyes and seeing love and desire there.
“Now what was this about your mom?” Tara asked, gulping audibly and trying to keep in mind that Giles and Buffy were right downstairs.
“She wants to meet you. She invited us to have dinner over there sometime,” Willow said slowly, taking a deep breath and trying to compose herself.
“Did you … I mean … you told her? About us?” Tara asked slowly.
“MmmHmm,” Willow confirmed, raising her hand up to lazily brush her fingers against Tara’s cheek.
“I thought … you were waiting for the right time?” Tara said, processing the idea that Willow had actually told her parents about her.
“It was the right time,” Willow said firmly. “In fact, it was long overdue. You’re the most important person in my life, and I’d like them to know you.”
“I … then I guess we’re going to dinner,” Tara said faintly. “What … I mean … what should I wear? Or say?”
“Wear whatever you’re comfortable in, and say whatever pops into your head,” Willow said with a smile. “And don’t you dare be nervous. They’re going to love you.”
“I … I’d settle for them just liking me,” Tara said, a quirky smile drifting across her lips. “And they were okay with it? I mean … the whole gay thing?”
“Well, Dad wasn’t there, but Mom was fine,” Willow said. “She pretty much said that I needed to find my own way. That I had to be me. And being me means loving you.”
A delighted smile crossed Tara’s face, her eyes lighting up with love for Willow Rosenberg.