AS TIME GOES BY
Part 23
Summary: Babies and Faith and a Big Bad, oh my! / I seem to be rhyming, but I've no idea why.
Pairings: Willow and Tara; the Tigris and Euphrates.
Rating: Eh...let's say somewhere between "R" and "NC-17," shall we? We shall? Good.
Distribution: Avec acknowledgement,
s'il vous plait.Disclaimer: I'm borrowing these lovelies to write this little story / My wish upon their owners is something rather gory.
********When morning broke the next day, Willow thought for one brief moment that she had dreamt the entire conversation with Faith. She quickly dismissed the possibility, though: her dreams were never that linear.
If I'd dreamt it, Faith would have been wearing a motorcycle helmet and speaking in Danish. Plus that cheese guy would've shown up somewhere...Everyone shuffled in to breakfast in varying states of consciousness. Anya looked as if she had emerged from REM fully functional and ready to solve for pi, while Xander had the appearance of someone who might easily put his pants on over his head if not gently instructed otherwise. Giles emerged from the bathroom holding his glasses in one hand and in so doing bumped into the door frame. "Bloody hell, who put that there?" he mumbled.
Faith looked remarkably relaxed, Willow thought. She had expected the Dark Slayer to be tense, as if waiting for Willow to jump up from the table and yell, "Faith loves Buffy!" Instead, she greeted Willow with a small, wry grin and a nod, then padded over to the refrigerator. She pulled out a bottle of Diet Coke and poured herself a tall glass.
"Soda first thing in the morning?" Xander asked incredulously, digging into a heaping bowl of Corn Flakes.
"Right...Because coffee is such a natural thing to drink," she replied with the barest of glances in his direction. "And don't even get me started on that tea thing of yours, Watcher Man," she added in response to Giles' disapproving glance.
"That's rather a noxious attitude to take," he huffed.
"That's rather a noxious thing to drink," she retorted, tossing back large, gulping swigs of the extremely, unnaturally carbonated beverage. "Pass the Flakes, flake."
"So what's on everyone's game plan for today?" Buffy asked, as if hoping to forestall an escalation of
Trash Talk in the AM. "Are we hanging together?"
"God, much more of this and our menstrual cycles will synchronize," Anya muttered. "Not yours," she added, to a mortified Giles and Xander.
"Not really much for walking along the beach in soft focus," the carpenter said, shoving his hands in his pockets as if the moon goddess herself might try to take up residence in his pants.
"Well, it's a lovely, class-free Saturday," Willow offered. "I was hoping Tara and I could steal a little family time." She reached out to take Tara's willing hand.
Because we need to talk."I'm all about family values," Tara promptly replied. "Pat Robertson and I were talking about it just yesterday." She expertly flipped a rhomboid pancake onto a large plate, followed in quick succession by a trapezoid, a pentagram, and a very nice likeness of Munch's "The Scream."
"We can help out with research this morning," Willow added, not wanting to appear remiss in her Scooby commitment. "I was just thinking about a little picnic this afternoon."
"Then all of us will gather at the Magic Box later this morning?" Giles asked, sipping his tea and biting delicately into a piece of toast. "We can share register duties."
Xander cleared his throat hesitantly, reaching out for Anya's hand. Willow noticed that the ex-demon seemed far less ebullient this morning. "Um, Ahn and I are going to Trevor's funeral this afternoon," he said, looking at his wife regretfully.
A silence draped over the kitchen like a stifling blanket. Willow could feel each of them remembering their own close calls, or those of the ones they held dearest. And an unspoken question hovered disquietingly, accusingly:
How many more?"Of course," Giles finally said, resting an awkward hand on Anya's shoulder. "Anya, I'm very sorry. I know that you liked and respected him a great deal."
"Yes," she said simply, her voice unusually small. Willow had a sudden memory of Anya after Joyce's death: bewildered at the grief, unsure of what to do with it. For all of the pain that the demon had witnessed--inflicted--over the years, the human was left paralyzed in the face of it.
"Anya," she said suddenly. "Sometimes the partner or family will ask that money be sent to a cause or a charity, instead of flowers. See if his partner did that, and we can make a contribution."
Anya looked up at her in surprise, and unmasked gratitude. "I will," she said quietly. "Thank you."
Breakfast ended soon afterwards, with Dawn dragging Faith toward the sink. "We call this 'dishwashing liquid,'" she said slowly. "Let's learn about it together, shall we?"
After the requisite production involved in getting a small child fed and changed, and packing up a diaper bag with snacks and drinks and Handi-Wipes and Kleenex, Willow, Tara, and Kyra set out for a stroll in the park. The two of them had decided early on that they wouldn't use magic to ease any of the logistical pains of child care....although the dirty diapers had presented a strong temptation. "Tara, c'mon," Willow argued. "Something that hideous requires supernatural intervention. You think Samantha on 'Bewitched' changed Tabitha's diapers?"
"Will, you realize that that was a TV show, right? Not known for its starkly realistic depictions of modern life."
"Or so they would have us believe," Willow muttered darkly.
In the end--as it were--they had agreed that they could use a minor sensory spell to block the more horrific olfactory elements. All else, though, was done as humanity has done it since the first infant gazed up at the first parent and expressed some version of the universal dictate: "Make everything OK for me."
Today was a beautiful day--typical southern California. They reached the park and spread a blanket out on the warm earth. Kyra pulled out her Clifford the Big Red Dog book and proceeded to read it--upside down. She seemed to enjoy it most that way. Tara was relaxed, watching their daughter with abject adoration. Willow hated to spoil everything, and she knew without question that she had to.
"Will, whatever it is--please tell me. I'm not especially in the mood for surprises these days." Tara's voice broke through her reverie: clear, insistent.
It's a good thing I can't see myself cheating. I could never keep a secret from her. "You're not gonna like it," she began cautiously.
"Well, that part seems pretty clear, judging from the lovely shade of dread you're currently wearing," Tara replied, bemused.
Willow drew a deep breath. "Tara, we need to talk about Kyra. Where she comes from; how she fits into this." She watched, groaning inwardly as ice slid down over features normally vibrant and warm.
"I think we already did," Tara said, her voice thin.
"No, we didn't," Willow countered doggedly. "We've talked
about talking about it; we've talked
around it; and heaven knows there have been other hot topics every night to lead off the evening news...But we can't put this off any longer, Tara. It's...It's irresponsible not to talk about it."
OK, maybe not the best word choice...And indeed, Tara was glaring at her as if Willow had accused her of child neglect. "Are you saying I'm irresponsible about Kyra?"
"God, Baby, no! I'm just saying that--Tara, we have to look at certain facts." She wondered if this was how Giles often felt, refusing to let them pretend that the Boogy Man might just be the most benign thing in town at the moment. She leaned forward, clasping Tara's suddenly cold hands in her own. "Tara? Baby? Please talk to me."
The face that turned to her was chalk white, save for red lines of anger that flared across her cheeks like slashes. "I am sick of this, Willow," she practically hissed. "I'm sick of having my family--at home, here--get fucked with by these bastards who hide out in heaven or hell or somewhere in the ether and just throw us like logs into some giant fire...watch us snap and burn and die, just to feed the flames. I am
sick of it!"Willow sat back, stunned. She had never seen Tara so furious, venomous.
"A bunch of monks make Dawn the Key. They make my aunt a Protector. Knowing full well that they could suffer and die; knowing we'd love them and grieve. God, it just goes on and on, Willow. Buffy and Angel love each other, and then all because of some curse they didn't even know about,
sharing that love rips Angel's soul away from him and Angelus kills Miss Calendar before Buffy has to kill
him. We're pawns, Willow, getting moved around on some board we aren't even allowed to see. And it stops here." She gripped her arms tightly, as if warding off some feeling that threatened to rip her apart from the inside.
Kyra watched all of this in frightened silence, gazing from one mother to the next as if willing both of them to stop talking in scary voices.
Willow wanted to babble, wanted to flood Tara with a deluge of arguments and persuasions and reassurances. The instinct that she was honing, however, made her choose her words very, very carefully. "Tara, Baby, believe it or not, I agree with you. I hate feeling like our lives are getting jerked around; like some force out there could shuffle us around and we wouldn't even know it. But...But at least we
have Dawn, and Beverly. I mean, I know it sounds weird but...well, didn't we come out ahead?"
Tara just shook her head. Finally, she whispered, "Willow, it's Kyra. Our daughter."
Willow's heart cracked open at the words. When she trusted herself to speak, she said, "I know, Baby. That's why we have to find out. We can't just sit here and hope everything's OK. Tara, she didn't come to us through natural means. And we know she has
some kind of power; we saw her use it."
Tara turned to her, her eyes desperate. "But maybe it was just a glitch, Will. Maybe...maybe somehow Kyra was created from the force of the spell and that's where she came from. Maybe there's nothing more to it than that."
Willow just sat quietly. She knew Tara didn't really believe the words, as desperately as she wanted to.
"Darnuth checked her out, Willow. She's never found any evidence that she's anything other than a normal, healthy baby. Something would show up, wouldn't it? If there were anything strange going on?"
"Tara, Baby, Dawn and Beverly could say the same thing." She hated this role, hated being the person trying to persuade Tara to look beyond the blissful surface and consider more ominous possibilities about their child.
Tara sat in stony silence for several moments, fear and resentment rolling off of her in waves. Willow thought she might choke on the ferocity of her partner's dread. Finally she turned to Willow and asked in a tiny voice, "What do you want to do?"
OK. Next step... "Tara, Baby, she came to us when we called on the Anadeis." Willow drew a deep breath. "I think we should invoke them again."
Tara pulled back, shaking her head anxiously. "Willow, what if they take her?"
"Tara, I think they're the ones who sent her to us. Why would they take her? And if they wanted to, couldn't they have done it already?" She reached for Tara again. "Baby, we'd be naive not to think that they might be involved somehow. We have to use our heads here, as well as our hearts."
Tara's eyes narrowed to slits. "You think I'm being irrational? I love her too much? I should
analyze her a bit?"
The furrow in Kyra's brow deepened as she watched this exchange. She returned to Clifford, but kept glancing anxiously up at her mothers.
Willow felt her own anger flaring. "And what? I don't love her
enough? I'm being too rational? Is that what you think?"
Tara stared at her defiantly for a half-second, then closed her eyes and released a shuddering breath. "No...God, no, that's not what I think. I just...Will, I've never been as scared of anything in my entire life as I am of losing Kyra. Sometimes I watch her sleep or I watch you feeding her, and I think my heart's just going to shatter. Willow, my life has never been so complete; I never dreamed it
could be so complete. And everytime you talk about digging deeper into where she came from, I feel like I'm watching some horror movie where the person decides to check out some weird phenomenon and you just want to scream, 'Get out. Don't look at it. Don't poke at it. Just run; go home and lock your doors.' That's how I feel now. Will, we're supposed to keep the bad stuff
away, not throw open the front door and invite it in."
"Tara, do you think I haven't thought about just packing her up and leaving this whole Scooby scene behind? But we can't, Tara. Things find you if they're supposed to find you."
"So you aren't afraid at all? You'd feel comfortable, right now, invoking them, hearing whatever they have to say?" Tara's voice was softly challenging.
Willow stopped cold. She had been in the position of trying to persuade Tara but now, as Tara herself posed the scenario, she had to confess: not at all. She most definitely did not want to call up the Anadeis and say, 'Hey--what's up with our daughter?'"
"No," she finally whispered. "Tara, I don't
want to do this at all. I can think of about 3,672 other things I'd rather do, including vote for George Bush and have a pelvic exam on public access TV. I'm not even one bit comfortable with this."
"But you think we have to do it," Tara finished quietly.
"Yes," Willow replied, squeezing her hand. Kyra seemed to have settled down slightly during the last exchange, her tiny brow clearing just a bit. "Yes, to find out what we can. Tara, it's true: knowledge is power. If there
is anything involving Kyra, I don't want us to be the only ones who don't know it."
Tara stared at Kyra as if the force of her gaze would stop time, stop all of this. Willow could see tears sparkling unshed in the cobalt eyes. Finally she turned to Willow.
"Let's do it."
********
They returned home shortly after this, calling the Magic Box to say that they weren't sure when they could make it and yes, they were fine and no, they weren't exhausted. They did, however, ask Buffy to come home to babysit.
"After us, she's the person I feel most comfortable having Kyra," Tara said. "Any force would have to go through her, and we both know how easy
that isn't."
When the Slayer returned, she looked at them questioningly. "You two didn't call me home so that you could take a quote unquote nap, did you? Because I'm all about quality time, but--"
"Buffy, we're going to try to find out more about where Kyra came from," Willow cut her off. "And whether she has any connection to this prophecy."
Buffy's gaze turned sober as she looked from Willow to Tara, and then back. "Do what you need to do. Nothing will come near her," she said quietly. Willow swallowed heavily, and she and Tara retired to their own room.
They researched their own extensive archives on anything pertaining to the Anadeis. There wasn't much beyond what they already knew: they were a trio of spirits, almost infinitely old. They were assumed to be female, but since no one had ever seen them, there was no certainty to be found. It was quite possible that gender didn't apply to them, but one thing was definitely true: they could only be summoned by women. Men could be included in the protection, but they could not invoke them directly.
Without discussion, Willow and Tara had summoned them last year:
Give form to that which delivers all who call upon it. Now, though, they weren't asking for protection so much as information. Finally, they pieced together a summoning chant designed to bring them into contact with the spirits, rather than being sent some protection as the spirits' proxy.
They joined hands, a small, unscented votive between them and tiny shreds of oak bark, sycamore leaves, and juniper berries forming a crescent to their western sides. They gazed at one another for a long moment, Willow trying both to center herself and reassure Tara.
"She's ours, Baby," she whispered, feeling Tara's hands tighten upon her own. They drew a deep breath as one, and then chanted together:
"Those who offered safety ere now:
Hear our question; back your vow.
You who sent protection before:
Appear before us, we implore."Willow could feel the energy humming in the room before she ever heard a word. When she opened her eyes, she saw a pale blue light shimmering above the crescent. There were no forms discernible, but Willow felt the trio of spirits as surely as she felt her own heartbeat.
"We thought you might wish to speak to us."
The voice was deep; resounding, almost. And yet utterly feminine. Willow heard a great antiquity in its depth.
"What would you say to us?" came another voice, this one seeming both younger than the first and still ancient.
Willow glanced at Tara, their hands still clasped. Should she ask the first question, or wait for Tara? She watched her partner square her shoulders, and she held her tongue.
"We want to know if you sent Kyra to us; and if so, why." Willow marvelled at the steadiness in her beloved's voice.
"We do not call her by the name you gave her." This voice seemed the youngest of the three, though it, too, rippled with age.
"I don't care what you call her," Tara replied evenly. "She is Kyra, our daughter. All we ask is whether you have information we should have."
"Of course we do, child," came the eldest voice. "We did send her; we chose you among a thousand others."
Willow's heart slammed into her chest. "Why? Why did you send her?"
"Because she is the Guardian. She will grow into a woman who shall guard other women; she shall make the way safe for others who must come."
Tara's hands were squeezing hers so tightly Willow could feel her fingers whitening. "What do you mean, 'Guardian'?" Tara asked, her voice dangerously quiet.
"Her life's work will be to battle those who would harm the women who will come to power. There are those not yet born, their mothers only children now; those children will have children who will create a new balance of power. Certain forces will not welcome that change. They will fight that change. And the Guardian will ensure that they do not succeed. The Guardian will serve to protect these women. She will face many battles, of many kinds."
Willow pictured her daughter--tiny, perfect--asleep downstairs and thought for a moment that she might vomit. She saw agony etched equally across Tara's beloved features.
"Why?" Willow finally whispered. "Why send a child? Why not send a full-grown woman to do this battle?"
"Because she must learn, across the rolling luxury of time, of many things. She must know fear, in order to learn courage. She must know vulnerability, to become invincible. She must know weakness, to reach her greatest strength. This is the path of the Guardian." So spoke the second of the spirits.
"She's not a Guardian," Tara practically roared. "She's our daughter!"
"Whom you have solely as a function of our plan," came the youngest ancient voice. "She is no more truly yours than any child on the street."
And finally Willow, too, was shocked into rage. "Fuck. You." She spat the words. Fury and terror eclipsed any misgivings she might have had about cursing a trio of immortals.
But there was no rain of fire, just a maddeningly calm voice. "We do not dispute your love for the child. Indeed, that love shall protect her, teach her compassion and humility; temper her power."
"Well here's a thought, you three-headed freak show," Willow retorted. "If we're supposed to look out for her, why'd you let us almost get killed? Tara barely made it; I
wouldn't have made it if Faith hadn't been there."
"And you suppose, do you, that Faith's appearance here is by chance?" The second voice was almost...amused.
"Can you say 'Faith'?"
"Fate." Willow squeezed her eyes shut, rocking slightly. Of course. Hadn't she suspected something from the beginning? The connection; the obvious affection that transcended simple fondness for an endearing child?
"We acted through the vampire to send the Dark One to you," continued the second voice. "She loves the child, fiercely, though she scarcely understands it herself. She will protect the child with her life. She will forfeit that life, if necessary, so that the Guardian may reach her full power."
Willow could feel Tara trembling across from her.
"You seem distraught, my dear," came the eldest voice. "Do you not realize the good, the power, that the Guardian represents? The power to protect so many women who are so vital to creating the world you would most want your daughter to live in? She will be an instrument of such beneficence and courage."
"Do you really think that matters?" Willow asked incredulously. "Honor? Pride? You're saying our daughter is destined to be a
warrior; that her life will be filled with danger and pain." She broke off, suddenly hopeful. "Is she immortal herself? These battles she's supposed to fight--is she protected from harm herself?"
Maybe I could handle that. Maybe I could handle that."I am sorry, my child, but that we cannot guarantee." The eldest voice seemed truly regretful. "It is not within our power to create an immortal. Believe me, though, we share the same hope: that the Guardian grows to adulthood safely, and happily."
"Stop calling her that!" Tara shouted. "Her name is Kyra!"
"As you wish," came the imperturbable voice. "We have endowed Kyra with strength and knowledge beyond that of the average human. She shall not fight unprepared."
"She won't fight at all," Tara hissed. "You think you can shove her into this idiotic battle of yours and not even guarantee her safety?"
"You presume to speak so?" came the youngest voice. "When you yourselves fight and risk?"
"Because we
choose to," Willow replied angrily.
"As if your meeting with the Slayer was by accident." The second voice was utterly calm.
Willow reeled at the thought. Had there been a destiny? Of any sort?
Perhaps. But she had chosen, in a hundred conscious moments and possibly a million more unconscious ones, to fight; to stay and work and risk...everything.
"No," she said flatly. "We may have been thrown together, but you'll never convince me we had no choice in the matter."
"My child, why do you argue? Can you not see the power she already possesses? Imagine the good that she will bring. Would you rob her of that honor?"
"You wanna go all womyn power, let's see you get off your ass and do it yourselves. Lazy hags," she added.
Two voices rose in sharp protest, and then Willow had a dim but abrupt sense of having just been spared an ugly death as the eldest voice merely chuckled. "We chose you well, Willow Rosenberg and Tara Maclay. None will dare threaten this child without your fury making them regret the attempt. No, we cannot fight as humans do. Heavens, child...With all the forces conspiring for darkness, are you not glad for those of us who conspire for good?"
"See, it's that whole 'conspire' thing that gets me," Willow said bitterly.
"You seem to suppose that the Guard--that Kyra would refuse this role," the second immortal commented. "Do you think that your friend wishes she were not the Chosen One, the one who fights such battles?"
"I don't know," Willow answered honestly. "But I think she would've liked the choice."
"We would all like many things," came the youngest of the ancient voices. "But that is rarely our luxury. We have had to wait for such a time as we could call the Guardian into being; we had to wait for the prophecy and the coming time of the new powers."
Willow's head snapped up at the word. "Prophecy? You're talking about...?"
"But of course," came the second voice. "There is darkness emerging now from what was light. Upon the completion of its task, the dark force shall give full rise to the new light."
"What do you mean, 'full rise'?" Tara demanded, her eyes glittering with an anger Willow had never seen before.
"The Guardian--"
"Kyra!" Willow shouted.
"Kyra, then...Kyra now has but a fraction of the power she will have when she is fully realized as the Guardian. We sent her to you, upon your calling, because we recognized that you would be her best protectors, her best teachers. But she could not claim full power, regardless of her age, until the evil that now walks among you has claimed his tenth victim."
Willow looked across at Tara.
We think as one, my love."So if this malevolent force doesn't take its tenth victim...what happens to Kyra?"
She wondered if she felt a slight ripple in the energy about them.
"Such a thing cannot happen," the youngest voice said, her voice adamant. "This force needs only three more good souls, though it cannot take any that it has already afflicted and lost."
"But if it did?" Tara persisted.
The eldest voice echoed evenly about them. "Then Kyra would become as any other child. But this cannot happen, my dear. The prophecy has clearly foretold--"
"How 'bout you shove that prophecy right up your incorporeal asses?" Willow said, a tiny, determined smile beginning to make its way across her face. "I think we're done here."
And again, her mind linked with Tara's:
Be ye banished. Linked hands descended onto the votive, an angry hiss filling the room as the flame died, protesting. She felt the spirits rip away from them.
She locked eyes with Tara.
"We have work to do."
********
To Be Continued
And wow. I love the fiery protectoresses that W & T become for Kyra. Especially love the "Fuck you" to the ancient immortal powers. Yay for Faith/Fate! Such suspense is gonna give me a heart attack before you finish this fic.
