Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the gentle souls in this fic, though god knows I wish I knew them….Mutant Enemy and that wanker Joss Whedon get credit for their creation. I’m just fantasizing a little.
Rating: Hmmm…good question…let’s be safe and say PG-13 for now....until I'm sure I want to finish this one.
Spoilers: This is AU to some extent. The setting is sometime after Oz splits town but this time he takes Veruca with him (reasons will be given but I won't dwell on that too much, if at all)..kinda Season 4ish
Summary: Oz leaves Willow and she basically slips into a deep funk, so deep that she's on the verge of flunking out of school. She goes to get some help, mostly for refocusing her priorities and gets paired with a lovely new tutor who helps her feel passion again. This is a total test fic (yeah like I don't have eight million already
)This started out as a joint venture but got lost in the shuffle along the way. It's mostly for mariacomet, damned good writer that she is.
CHAPTER ONE
Willow ran a slightly tanned hand through her sun-bleached hair in a desultory attempt to remove stray wisps that fallen into her face. She had been sitting in the window seat of her dorm room for what seemed like hours, trying in vain to study for a rather complex Organic Chemistry mid-term. Her books lay open before her as if they had arms to enfold her and lend her their knowledge, their wisdom. The same paragraph had been shouting its bold message at her but somehow Willow's focus was lacking. "Two months, five days, fourteen hours, 38 minutes and 29 seconds," she murmured quietly. An eternity since Oz had left Willow dazed and bewildered, outside of her dorm one afternoon in late August. As they stood underneath the shade of a rather large redwood near Oz's van, he tried to explain why he had to go.
He broke the news in his usual laconic fashion, "This can't work like this, Will. Not like it is now, not with what I am, what I’ve become. I’m afraid for you. I can’t be afraid for you and be with you at the same time." She tried to hold it together, a mini mantra of “ThisisadreamitsgottabeadreamitHAStobeadream..." running through her head like a runaway train. He touched her arm, squeezing lightly and stared in her eyes, made misty by as yet unshed tears. "I…," he paused, taking her delicate hands in his strong, calloused ones. "I have to take Veruca with me. She's too dangerous to leave here uncontrolled." Taking a deep breath, he forged on. "I'll know that you're safe if she's with me," Oz said somberly.
With silent tears streaming down her face, Willow could feel all of her resolve dying in the warm quiet. Her emotions always came to the surface, viewed openly as if she were on display in a museum. Shock slipped through her, reverberating like echoes through her body, the reality of what life would be like without him. The full effect of emptiness that his absence caused coursed through her unabated. Then came the pain; pinpricking her mind, stealing her soul.
Everyone had been so helpful, so supportive. But Willow just couldn't bear to look into their eyes, especially Xander's. He was still dancing around the jagged edges of guilt after he and Willow kissed that one time. Buffy attempted to cheer her up, giving her pep talks, leisurely visits to the Espresso Pump for as much caffeine as they could stand. In the end, though, Willow was at a loss. She was in a situation where she couldn't look up the answer to ending her pain, couldn't make it all end with a wave of a magic wand. Shifting uncomfortably in her window seat, Willow again attempted to read through a chapter of O-Chem before Buffy got back from class. "God, why MUST Grignard reactions be so damned convoluted?" she thought to herself. She slammed the heavy textbook shut, frustrated at her inability to think properly, and turned her attention once more to the open window before her.
It was mid-autumn and Sunnydale was always a muted mix of colour and warmth around this time of year. The Indian summer-like weather often prompted a rash of class-skipping on campus. A sudden warm breeze filtered in, ruffling Willow's unkempt reddish curls. People watching had become a habit of hers lately. She found herself gazing absently out the window at the students milling about the Quad, idly wondering what Oz was doing now; where he might be. Glancing at the clock, Willow noticed that it was almost time for dinner. Buffy would be getting back from class soon and she would want to rush through supper so that she could spend some time with Riley before patrolling.
Sighing regretfully, Willow slid away from the window seat and picked up the stack of mail that had been languishing on her desk for the last couple of weeks. She really hadn't felt like facing her classwork after Oz left, much less looking at mail. She wondered absently if he had written her a letter or at least sent a postcard. Rifling through it rapidly, she stopped suddenly at the appearance of a relatively thick envelope that bore the UC-Sunnydale official seal. Her hand hovered over it with indecision. "Oh man, I know what this is. Rosenberg, you've done it this time." With a sigh of resignation, Willow dropped the rest of the mail onto her riotously coloured comforter and opened the envelope. She skimmed the letter, her eyes growing more distressed with each word.
From the Desk of Dr. Robert C. Masterson, Dean of Academics, University of California, Sunnydale
Dear Ms. Rosenberg:
It has come to our attention that your academic standing has slipped drastically in the last few weeks. As a Pennyworth Scholarship recipient and Evermore Honoree, I feel obligated to inform you that, if you do not rectify the situation by the end of the semester, we will have no choice but to rescind the scholarship and remove your name from the honoree list for the Spring Semester. Keep in mind that your academic standing will also affect any other financial aid that you apply for in the coming semesters. This letter is only a precautionary measure; no action has been taken as yet. We strongly advise that you take advantage of the Peer to Pro academic tutoring program here at UC Sunnydale. It would be in your best interest to commit fully to reviving your flagging academic record.
Good luck and best wishes,
Dean Masterson
Willow drew a ragged breath and sat down before she fell down. The world felt like it had suddenly spun out of control. The merry-go-round that is the Hellmouth had yet again thrown a rod somewhere, skewing the machinery that made her life predictable in some ways but aberrant in others. She could feel the tears filling in her eyes, making the room look opaque and filmy, like looking through frosted glass in winter. Rage and pain jockeyed for position in which would take control of her first. She was angry at herself for letting things get this bad, for not paying attention to the important things. "Isn't that how this all started in the first place?" she asked herself. "How could I not notice that things weren't all right?"
Somehow she felt justified in indulging in a little self-flagellation. This just wasn't fair! "Who said life was fair, Little Red? What makes you so special that you would get the distinct honour of having everything go your way; of having everything be perfect?" The little voice in her mind seemed to be surprised at Willow's naiveté. Unfortunately, that voice always seemed to take the mocking tone that her Uncle Garrett, her mother's brother, used to have when addressing some of her faults. He called her "Little Red" when he wanted to tease her about her red hair or her lack of a sense of humour. Which was rather odd since he himself had flaming red hair and distinctly Irish features, courtesy of their mother's side of the family. “There's only one thing you CAN do, Little Red," the voice went on. "Time to take control; time to make things happen."
She had to admit, the voice was right. It was time to make things happen. Opening the nightstand drawer beside her bed, Willow took out the Campus Directory and searched through it, using her finger as a guide. "There ya go. 'Peer to Pro', a one on one tutoring program for students finding it difficult to adjust to the university academic environment,'" she read aloud. "Never thought I'd be seeing myself doing this. But I have to do this. I have to get my life back." Willow picked up the phone and began to dial.
*****************
"What did you say this vampire looked like? And please, for heaven's sake, don't say, 'More bumpy than usual.' I need a bit more detail than that, Buffy." Giles removed his glasses and tiredly massaged the bridge of his nose.
"But Giles, that's what it DID look like. Although, when he was tossing Xander around, I was thinking he looked more like a Klingon," Buffy shrugged.
"Umm, HELLO?! Why not ask the man with the giant bruise on his posterior?" Xander exclaimed, gesturing at the rather sizable ice pack that Anya gave him to sit on. Giles rolled his eyes at the lack of helpful information.
"Willow, did you perhaps notice anything significant about this vampire other than its unusual facial features?" he asked. She was sitting beside Xander on the couch, seemingly lost in thought.
"Willow?"
"Hmmm?" Willow answered with a far-away look.
"Willow!" Giles snapped.
"Oh…what? Did you say something?"
"Oh bloody hell, never mind. We're not getting anywhere with this," he groused tiredly.
Buffy's brow creased in a slight frown. She noticed that Willow had been acting more distant lately. She'd become distant and moody and her chocolate consumption had reached an all time high. Buffy had tried on several occasions to find out what was really wrong with her but Willow had somehow managed to perfect her "artful dodger" routine when asked directly if she was doing all right. She wasn't even sure if Willow had been going to classes regularly since her books were still stacked neatly on her desk, a thin film of dust on the covers. Normally, Buffy wouldn't have even let the thought cross her mind. Willow was the last person she thought would skip class. However, she'd been going out less and less, sticking close to the dorm as if it were a lifeline.
"Hey Wills, whaddaya say we head over to the Espresso Pump for a bit of R&R? I've been craving their new double espresso cappuccino all night." Buffy threw that last part out as bait; Willow usually couldn't refuse chocolate in any form.
"Nah, thanks anyway. I've got a ton of work to catch up on. O-Chem isn't getting any easier and Dr. Menser has all the compassion of a Frost Giant." Willow snorted. She stood up, wrapped her scarf around her neck and was preparing to leave when she was stopped by a light touch on her arm.
"Hey stranger, are you sure that you're ok?" Buffy's intense blue eyes bored into Willow's green ones.
A momentary flash of guilt and love swept through Willow. She felt bad about hiding her feelings from Buffy but she knew that she really couldn't explain what was going through her mind half of the time. Buffy was concerned about her; that she understood. But how could Willow tell her that all she wanted to do was fade away? That she wanted to just fade into the woodwork until she could get her head together? Usually they shared everything, even those details that probably should've been left unsaid. "Sharing can be EVIL!" Buffy once groaned after Willow had described one particularly passionate moment between her and Oz.
"Don't worry, Buff. I'm fine...really." Willow gently laid her hand over Buffy's, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"OK, but if you happen to wander near Theta House, be careful. Last time I came within sniffing distance of a Frat House, Cave Buffy made an appearance…so NOT pretty," Buffy smiled wryly.
"I'll be careful, I promise," Willow chuckled, flashed Buffy a knowing wink and walked out the door.
*****************
Silvery moonlight embraced Sunnydale, painting the streets and buildings an almost unearthly hue. It caressed Willow's upturned face as she sat on the steps of the Boyer Little Theater, which was situated at a very cozy corner of the UC Sunnydale Quad.
The night was surprisingly warm for late Fall and she found this quiet little part of the campus quite by accident. "Feelin' sorry for yourself again, eh, Little Red?" Garrett Rosenberg's voice smirked. This incarnation of him was fast becoming a serious pain in the ass. "Why don't you just give up? Sit down and cry like you used to when you were a kid. Would that make you feel better?" Willow growled low in her throat and shook her head to clear it of her uncle's annoying voice. "There are days," she grumbled, "when I wish that my mother was an only child." She inhaled deep draughts of the moist autumn air, hoping that it would help wake her up a bit. The night was tranquil; the darkness warm and inviting yet haunted. It made her think of a quote from something she had read for World Lit, "There is a time of apprehension which begins with the beginning of darkness and to which only the speech of love can lend security." She dimly recalled that it was from a short story titled "A Winter Night".
A sudden breeze rustled the leaves at her feet, sending a chill through her small frame. Pulling her sweater closer to her body, she stood up. When she turned around, she noticed that the door to the theater was slightly ajar and the foyer was dimly lit. "Hmmm... wonder what's going on in there tonight," Willow said to herself.
Willow ran her hand over the thick, ornately carved oak door. It had a warm, inviting feel, comforting and smooth. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The theater décor was remarkably lavish; subdued shades of burgundy, tan and green adorned the walls and carpeting. Intricately painted columns lined the outer fringes of the aisles; staggered rows of plush, comfortable theater seats filled the deceptively spacious room. It seemed peaceful here, serene.
Willow walked up one of the aisles and sat down in one of the chairs, leaning her head back so that she could get a better look at the high, gold-domed ceiling. The foyer lighting was too weak to illuminate much farther than the very last row of seats so she was immersed in almost complete blackness. "This must be what Heaven must be like," she thought, breathing deeply of the damp, musty air in the theater. She simply adored the smell of old things, the smell of times past; of other lives that had been lived and left their odiferous mark. Willow sat in the warm quiet, her thoughts busily running about in her head, never standing still long enough for her to focus on any one in particular.
Seconds ticked by, then minutes. Comforted by the soft, cushion-y theater chair, Willow drifted off into a light doze. She awoke with a start when she realized that she heard sounds coming from somewhere at the front of the theater.
Phantom music was being played; a woman's soft, sweet voice came floating to her like opaque clouds embracing the moon. For a moment, Willow thought she was still dreaming, her mind still in the throes of the comfortable haze of sleep. Shaking her head slightly to clear her vision, she looked toward the stage, straining her eyes in a futile attempt to focus them in the gloom. Willow got up from the chair and slowly made her way to the front of the theater.
Turning around
I see someone that I thought
I used to know
You, wide-eyed, in the crowd
How does it feel to see the world
And not turn cold?
I wanna hold you and protect you
From the change
Though I know it's gonna happen anyway
"Where is that coming from?" Willow wondered, searching the gloom for the instrument or the woman who was singing. The piano became more haunting, the voice more alluring as she got closer to the stage. Deft fingers rippled across the keys, wringing passion and sadness from them. The disembodied voice picked up the song where she left off.
Take this veil
And I'll dry your eyes
In a world like ours
You're nobody's child
I'm depending on you
To teach me all the things I forgot
I never knew
Baby, you can lean on me
I may lean a little too
Whatever gets us through
And I feel a mountain movin' deep within
At the end of the revival we begin
Take this veil
Dry these eyes
You've seen me break
But I'm nobody's child
The voice was filled with a longing and soft passion that was amplified by the powerful words of the song and the deep tones of the piano.
Willow moved closer to the stage, her eyes straining to pick out any shapes of person or instrument in the gloom. She stopped at the middle of the theater as the mood of the musician shifted. The beginning notes of George Gershwin's "Summertime" from Porgy and Bess hung in the air, soft, inviting and sensual: "Summertime and the livin' is easy…" Willow felt herself being drawn in by the music, drawn into the world of the singer.
She started swaying, wrapped in the gossamer strands of the music, and felt her chest tighten as if someone had pulled her heartstrings taut. For the first time in a long while, she was starting to feel alive! She wished the music would never stop, that the moment would stay forever. Willow felt pulled into the world of the musician as she virtually sailed through the gamut of emotions through music. From languid romanticism of Gershwin to the eerie, almost tormented dissonance of PDQ Bach, Willow's world was being opened up; she was sharing the life of another. This anonymous pianist was all but telling her that she understood the pain, the longing, the anger and the bittersweet.
Willow's heart beat faster with every change in song. "Who IS this?" she thought to herself. Finally, when the agony of not knowing the answer had become too much, she called out again to the woman hiding in the dimness surrounding the stage. "Hello? Hello? Who's there?" The music abruptly stopped and Willow thought she heard the singer's breath catch in fear. She tried a different tactic. "Look, it's ok, really. I love your playing. It was…wonderful, magical. I won't tell that you're here, I promise." She paused. "Can I come up there? I don't bite. Well, not anymore, at least," Willow said with a wry smile. She heard the sounds of the piano bench being shoved back hurriedly, the pattering of retreating feet and the subsequent slam of one the heavy emergency exit doors. "Ok, Will, you've done it again. You have raised your skill of driving people away to an art form."
Willow sighed deeply and headed back to her dorm room, thoughts of the phantom musician flitting across her mind like shadows. When she fell asleep that night, she actually dreamed.
Think it's worth finishing, y'all?
Love is tricky. It is never mundane or daily. You can never get used to it. You have to walk with it, then let it walk with you. You can never balk. It moves you like the tide. It takes you out to sea then lays you on the beach again. Today's struggling pain is the foundation for a certain stride through the heavens. You can run from it but you can never say no. It includes everyone."--Amy Tan "The Hundred Secret Secret Senses"
Just a little dragon stopping by to tell you that I really like this story. I do so hope that you continue with this. An excellent start...
And (I might add) thoroughly enjoying every single one of them.
) and I write the feelings they bring out in me. I love them like they were my family which is probably why I felt more hurt than was really necessary when they were torn apart by ME. *sigh* I won't go there....it's still an open wound. I bow very deeply at your compliments. I know damned well I don't deserve them but I appreciate them nonetheless. 
Pax! -Bev 
It's cool to have savvy readers who ask questions. Now...if I can only stock up on the box of tissues to get through your fic 
You know how that is.....love takes precedence and you kinda forget what planet you're on 
). We'll keep you posted.
at: 12/28/03 12:56 am