At Sunnydale High School, Dawn was also sighing, but for somewhat different reasons. She'd been flipping through Web pages for the past twenty minutes and found nothing about the effects of drinking Lethe's bramble as a tea. It wasn't that she didn't trust Spike’s advice. He had no reason to want to hurt Tara, but after spending hours crawling around in the sewers with Willow, Tara and "Alex," she wasn't prepared to take any chances. Frustrated, she glanced around the library and saw Kit Holburn writing on her arm with black ink. She'd not seen the Goth-girl for several days.
Kit's eyes flickered up and caught Dawn's. She tilted her head, letting long thick purple highlighted hair obscure her face.
The teen gave the other girl a hesitant smile, and was surprised to not only see it returned, but also to see Kit rise from her chair and come over to sit down.
"Hey. Are you doing homework?" Kit asked, but then caught a glance at Dawn's computer screen. "Or not." She added, raising an eyebrow.
Dawn quickly window switched back to her safety page, the UC Sunnydale home page. "I'm just messing around."
Kit slid her chair closer to Dawn's. "I didn't know you were into the Wicca stuff."
"Not totally into. But interested into." Dawn explained nervously as Kit reached for the mouse and switched the windows back to the page Dawn had been reading.
"Lethe's bramble, huh. My mom uses that for her headaches."
"Headaches?"
"Migraines or something. My mom's totally into the herbal goddess thing."
Not sure why she was surprised, after all, they did live in Sunnydale, Dawn asked. "Is she Wicca?"
"Nah, just woman-centered." Kit rolled her eyes. "You know, Gaia this. Menstrual blood that."
Dawn didn't try to hide her grin. "You don't do the goddess?"
"I just don't get the whole female principle thing. I'm more into contradiction and duality than unity." Kit gave Dawn a measuring stare. "Plus, you don't get to wear black make-up."
Dawn nodded, her eyes inadvertently locking on Kit's black lipstick. "I get that. But Wiccas can be cool. Our housemate Willow is way Wicca and she's cool."
Kit nodded sagely. "Plus your sister's all demon fighter-girl." She thought for a moment. "My mom doesn't believe in the whole magicks thing, or demons. Which is just so like an adult. I mean come on. We live in Sunnyhell: the nation's leader in death by neck puncture."
The two exchanged knowing looks. "Ninety percent of Sunnydale is in total denial on any given day. But that doesn't mean there won't be a run on garlic come Halloween, which is so stupid since everybody knows that Halloween is like an official demon holiday." Dawn noticed a couple of kids eavesdropping. She narrowed her eyes at them until they turned away, but then lowered her voice anyway. "I heard you got suspended?"
Kit giggled. "Nah, I just had a cold. My mom made me stay home and sit in her sweat lodge for a couple of days. Kind of boring, but she let me listen to my MP3 player, so it wasn't like torture, or anything."
Dawn spun in her chair to face Kit." You've got a sweat lodge? Buffy won't even agree to a hot tub. I mean like what's the point in living in southern California if you don't have a hot tub."
"Bummer. Hot tubs should just come with the house, like the floor and stuff." Kit nodded back to the computer screen. "So what's with the herbal research?"
Dawn glanced back at the screen and grimaced. "I was told to get some Lethe's bramble for a friend. But I wanted to check it out first. Do you happen to know where your mom gets her supply? I know they aren't carrying it anymore at the Magic Box."
"How much do you need?" Kit asked, as she continued to read the screen.
"Not that much. I need to grind it up to make tea."
Kit thought for a minute. "I could probably clip some from my mom's herb garden."
"Garden?" It took Dawn a moment to make sense of what Kit was saying. The idea of people home growing their own herbs seemed unreal, like the idea of people making their own clothes.
Kit's face opened up into a rare, full-on smile. "Yeah, she grows a lot of her own stuff. She has a mini-green house and everything. She doesn't like me to mess around in her stuff, but she's got her candle-making class tonight, so I could grab some tonight and give it to you tomorrow during third period."
Dawn wrinkled her forehead. "I don't want you to get into trouble with your mom."
"First of all she won't catch me." Kit leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially. "And second of all if I'm not messing up she would lose her reason to complain to the goddess."
"Okay, but if you get in trouble, tell your mom you were getting the stuff for me." Dawn glanced at the clock. "Did you finish the biology assignment?"
Kit snickered. "Are you kidding?"
"Want to do it together? It's just five questions?" Dawn asked with a smirk, only to be surprised to see Kit's expression soften.
The Goth nodded shyly. "Let me go grab my book."
A thought tickled in the back of Dawn's mind. She's lonely too. Slightly flustered, Dawn explained. "I'm done with the computer. Why don't I move over to your table?"
"Cool." Kit agreed as Dawn leaned down to grab her purse and backpack off the floor.
Tara walked through the deserted city searching for the bookstore. Bright and unforgiving, a white sun hung high in the sky, heating the cement walls and streets and making the girl long for the tender coolness of the night. A trickle of sweat slid down her forehead and caught on her eyebrow. She reached up and rubbed it away while wishing she could find water. After several blocks, she came to an intersection and turned left. Larry had once told her that if she ever got stuck in a labyrinth, she should consistently turn to her left or right. Tara wasn't sure if the advice worked for cities, but since she did not have a map, it seemed like a reasonable choice.
As she walked the city streets, she tried to remember why she needed to go to the bookstore. There had to be a reason. She did not normally wander alone in deserted cities. Indeed, she rarely wandered alone anywhere. Or did she? Not sure of the answer, she pushed it from her thoughts and instead tried to remember why she needed to go to the bookstore. At the next intersection, she started to turn to her left, but then she heard it, something moving behind her.
Tara turned and saw the cat grooming itself on the sidewalk. It was tiny, more kitten than cat. Its ribs stuck out a little, and she could see it had been in a fight. There was a small wound on its neck and the tip of its tail was severely bent. She crept forward on quiet feet trying not to startle it.
Crouching low, she reached to pet the cat, only to fall backward as the cat sprung to its feet and darted away from her. When the cat reached the shadow of a nearby building, it came to a stop. Startlingly green eyes seemed to watch Tara as she slowly rose from the pavement. As soon as Tara was back on her feet, the cat turned from her and began walking away. After about twenty feet, it stopped, dropped to the pavement and began rolling back and forth.
"Am I supposed to follow you?" Tara asked, wondering what she would do if the cat responded.
The cat stopped its playing and turned to look at her. It was pitch black but for one white leg, a small patch on its chest, and all four of its paws. The cat waved its white leg in the air in a slow, undulating pattern, a picture of unhurried insouciance. Tara used her sleeve to blot away the sweat that continued to bead on her forehead. "Do you know how to find the bookstore? I've wasted most of the afternoon, and I don't want to be out after dark." The cat continued to stare at her for several moments, and then jumped to its feet. It looked over its shoulder once, and then continued walking away from her.
Tara sighed. Maybe going to the left wasn't the answer. She did not deliberate long before starting after the tiny cat. Or was it a kitten?
Lecture over, Willow scooted out of class, waving a quick hello to Katie and Bobby, but not stopping to chat. Usually she mass transited to school on Thursdays, but, today, she had far too many things she needed to take care of to rely on the Sunnydale Bus Authority. Seventeen minutes later, she found her car and pulled out of student parking heading for the Magic Box.
As she wound through Sunnydale's slightly congested streets, she idly contemplated ditching her responsibilities at the Magic Box and going home instead. The weather was turning nasty. A huge early winter storm was boiling off the coastline, getting ready to blow through Sunnydale. Rain was forecast for tonight and tomorrow, and Willow couldn't help but think how much nicer it would be to be home sipping tea and catching up her emails, and most especially, looking after Tara. Still, she knew Tara was safe. Clem would call if a problem arose, and Dawn would be home soon. And she also knew that she owed Anya the help. The vengeance demon was still making up for the lost business from last spring's wrecking. Responsible sensibility won over prickly impulse; reliable Willow made the left turn on to Main that would eventually lead her to the Magic Box.
When she arrived, she found a shop full of customers and Anya in a surprisingly foul mood. Willow slipped out of her coat and hat, hanging them up on the coat rack near the door to the practice room. Halloween rush was starting early, or so it seemed. Willow pitched in, helping customers with the books and tarot packs, and trying to remember to push the pumpkin pie scented candles. She quickly understood the reason for Anya's mood as customer after customer asked for the impossible. One customer wanted bronze votive candleholders when they only had silver. Another customer demanded the oversized Aleister Crowley deck when they only had the standard. While a third demanded risible foxtail, but only if it came preground. Willow found her patience strained to near breaking as she explained not once, not twice, but three times that ground foxtail lost its potency very quickly after grinding, and therefore was only sold in raw bundles.
By the time she was able to sit down and get to work on the mail orders, it was just past five o'clock. Willow resisted the urge to check in with Dawn, after last night's fiasco, the teen was already feeling guilty. A phone call would only make Dawn feel like she was no longer trusted with Tara. Still, that did not mean Willow couldn't make an effort to hurry. The hacker pulled out her trusty laptop, and began transcribing the orders into her translation software. The results weren't always pretty, and Willow hated relying on the technology, but the computer certainly helped to speed along the task. Finished in record time, Willow stopped only long enough to confirm Anya was coming to TV night, and then headed out the door to complete her last errand before heading home.
But the time she made up processing Anya's orders was quickly squandered at the grocery store amid a traffic jam of wheeled carts, chatting post-work shoppers and the usual assortment of employees pushing the contents of the most recent "frequent flyer." As Willow made it out the door, bags hanging from each hand, another tucked under her arm, the generalized and minor frustrations, worries and irritations of the day coalesced, forming a hard knot in her stomach. Oblivious to the chaos of the grocery store parking lot, she put her bags in the trunk and rocketed towards the Magnolia street exit, nearly taking out a five door excursion van and causing a fire engine red Honda to test its brakes in the most uncontrolled of fashions. Back on the road, she sped towards Main, only to be slowed down behind an SUV whose driver had decided to take his lane down the middle, now in a near rage, she made a right turn and then a left, not realizing where she was heading until she pulled through the gates of Evergreen Cemetery.
She pulled to her usual stop, shut off the engine and stepped out of the car. Her feet sunk into the freshly mowed grass as she made her way through the intricate landscape of California pines, towering palm trees and slabs of marble, granite and limestone. While unmarked, the path she took was nevertheless familiar, a right turn at the Sanchez marker, a slight swing to the left by the statue of the Buddha, down the slope and past the bench of the Sunnydale Garden Society. Her pulse slowed and the troubles of her day returned to human proportions as she drew closer to the one place she could now find a however conflicted peace.
It was Dawn who had insisted Tara be buried next to Joyce, so that the two could look out for one another. At the time, Willow had been too grief-stricken to voice an opinion, but now she was grateful for Dawn's simple request. As always, Willow stopped at Joyce's grave first. Someone, Buffy probably, had left flowers recently, three white roses tied to together with a yellow ribbon. The tips of the petals seemed to glow under the faint light of the setting sun.
"Sorry I haven't been by for a while. It's just that a lot of stuff has been happening. But Buffy probably told you about it already." A tentative smile passed over Willow's face. "Even though it's been kind of nuts, I'm being a good girl and staying in touch with my mom and dad. I've been emailing my mom once a week and I've been making my Tuesday night dinner dates with my dad. We're still mostly talking about school stuff." She confessed, her voice lowering slightly. "If I could figure out a way to tell them what's been going on, I would. But they've never really accepted the fact that I'm a witch, so I'm not really sure how to tell them that my lover's counterpart from another reality has crossed over to this one." Willow grinned. "And I doubt that Hallmark is going to be coming up with a card for that one anytime soon." But the grin faded quickly as a wave of sorrow over Joyce's passing washed over her. Even when her jokes were lame, Joyce had always laughed at them.
Several drop of rain peppered her face. "We had a bit of a scare last night. Tara got away from us. She's okay, and you won't believe who brought her home." Willow thought for a moment, and decided to edit out the Spike parts. It was up to Buffy to tell Joyce that Spike was back. "Anyway, Dawn was pretty upset over the whole thing, because she was Tara-sitting at the time. But she shouldn't feel that way; what happened could have happened to any of us." Willow heard her speech speeding up and took a deep breath. "Don't worry about Dawnie. Buffy and I will make sure she knows it wasn't her fault. I just wanted you to know we're all doing out best. And we all still miss you."
Willow closed her eyes and said a silent blessing for Joyce, wishing her best friend's mother peace and love and joy. It helped to visit Joyce's grave first. There she could let herself remember the high school evenings spent watching videos with Buffy and Xander while Joyce made snacks and hot chocolate in the kitchen, and there she could let herself recall the back yard cook outs with the whole gang that last summer before Glory came and before anyone knew about the tumor growing inside Joyce's head. There she could let herself remember times when living on the hellmouth seemed bearable and doing magicks was joyous. And only then could she temporarily let go of grief that ached deep inside her chest, handing it over to Joyce, who understood the ache of separation, and only then could she make those last final steps and stand in front of the other marker.
Tara's stone was simple. It said only her name, her birth and death dates and the word, "always." It wasn't quite as tall as Joyce's, but, as Xander liked to say, it fit Tara's style. The flowers Willow had left during her last visit had dried; she picked them up, planning to take them home to add to the bowl of dried petals Tara had kept on their dresser. "I didn't bring you any flowers today. I wasn't even planning on coming. Dawnie and Tara are waiting for me at home, and I don't want to worry them, but it's just been this day. This really stupid day. And I've been missing you so much."
Willow rubbed her fingers against the side of the gravestone, letting the coldness of the stone seep into her flesh. "Nothing's new." She rethought her words. "Well, Spike is back, but I don't think he's here to cause trouble. He even helped with Tara last night. She's still in a bad way. We're all pretty worried, but we're doing the best we can." She listened to her words and wondered if they were true. Were they really doing all they could, was she? The grit of the stone gathered underneath her fingers and she pressed at it, wanting to feel the sting. The sting was real. "At least, I hope we are. It's been hard. None of us know what she needs, or if what we're doing is right." The wind picked up and the red head turned up the collar of her coat. "Anya called Giles. I didn't want him to know about Tara. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe he can help. Nothing I'm doing is helping."
The bitterness in her voice surprised her. She didn't like it; she had no right to complain. The rain continued to fall in dribs and drabs, but she sat down anyway, curling her legs to the side and then leaning over to use her fingers to trace the engraving of her lover's name. "I've been slipping." She confessed and then quickly added, "Not with magicks, with schoolwork, I mean." Her fingers moved to trace the date, to touch the moment when her life ended. "I almost forgot to do an assignment for my networking class. And I'm only lucky my professors have been cutting me some slack. Otherwise I'd be in big trouble. Me, Willow Rosenberg, reliable dog geyser person." A smile passed over her face as she remembered Tara's peals of laughter over the story behind that moniker. "It's just been so hard without you to talk too. I got used to our talks. I miss them so much. Even more than the kissing."
She swallowed and said out loud the words that had been pressing to get out, knowing however much it hurt to say them, it hurt even more not to let them out. "It's been hard because there's this stranger sleeping in our bed. And I don't know what I'm supposed to feel for her, or how I'm supposed to fix what's wrong inside her head. It's been hard because I promised to take care of her, but I don't know how to keep my promise." Tears of frustration threatened to spill over. "Baby, I wish I was better at this. I'm trying to be strong." A sad smile passed over her face. "Strong like an Amazon, remember? I just don't want to disappoint you. I disappointed you too much. And I don't want to disappoint our Tara either." Willow stirred her fingers amid the stones that lay at the base of Tara's marker and tried to find the connection that had sustained her over the past three years. "Baby, I miss you. I miss you every day." Several minutes passed before the familiar warmth traveled up through her fingers and hand, into her arm, through her shoulder and then filling her chest. She took her hand back and held it against her heart. "I'll be back soon, and next time I'll bring you flowers, little yellow roses."
The knot in her stomach almost dissolved, Willow stood up and quietly made her way back to her car. It wasn't until she was buckling her shoulder harness across her chest that it crossed her mind visiting the cemetery at nightfall wasn't very bright. If they found out, Buffy would be furious, and Dawn would freak out. She thought of the night in the alley, and her throat caught as she realized she couldn't expect another rescue from Spidergirl. A light up ahead reminded her that the groundskeepers would soon be closing the gate. Thinking that the last thing she needed was to be locked in, she picked up her speed, only to brake to a sudden halt as a tiny cat ran into the road. Heart pounding, Willow jumped out of the car and checked under the wheels and then sighed with relief. It had probably cost the cat one of its lives, but it had made it to the other side.
Wondering where the little cat had run off too, Willow peered into the dark grounds, but saw nothing. Part of her wanted to begin searching the grounds, but the more sensible side of her personality overruled, reminding her a second time that in Sunnydale cemetery after dark equaled danger. Unsettled, she got back into her car and headed home.
Back at the house, Dawn closed her trigonometry textbook with a satisfying snap. Not only had she finished tomorrow's assignment, she'd finished Monday's homework as well. She stood up and began collecting the various books and note she'd spread across the dining room table, and then haphazardly shoved the resulting pile into her backpack. She was now officially homework free for the weekend.
She carried her backpack to the foyer and left it on the floor near the door. As she came back into the front room, her eyes slid past the small clock that sat on the mantle. Willow was at least thirty minutes late. Dawn glanced over at Tara, who sat on the couch looking out the window. She watched the blonde's eyes nervously track a passing car.
"Don't worry, I'm sure Willow will be home any minute." Dawn declared with false confidence. As much as she resisted Buffy and Willow's curfews for herself, she hated it when Buffy or Willow came home late. Forcing herself to ignore the stomach tingles that came whenever she worried, Dawn sat down next to Tara.
Tara immediately moved closer and Dawn turned so that the blonde could cuddle against her. "I'm not sure why she's late. Anya said she'd left the Magic Box about an hour ago, but she had to go to the grocery store afterwards, and you know what Trader Joe's is like." Dawn thought a minute. "Well, maybe you don't. Trust me, it's usually super busy."
Dawn caught the faint hint of a smile on Tara's face. Tenderly, she brought her hand to Tara's face and pushed away several locks of thick blonde hair. The question came to her lips unbidden. "What's going on inside your head? I know you're thinking about stuff. I can tell by the way your eyes move and the way your forehead wrinkles."
Large blue eyes blinked in response, but the girl said nothing. Impulsively, Dawn pressed a kiss on Tara's forehead. "It's all inside of you, waiting to get out, isn't it?" She questions, holding open her arms, smiling as Tara snuggled closer. "And it will, soon. I promise."
Dawn rested her chin on the top of Tara's head and listened to the soft sounds of Tara's breath. The comfort of holding on to Tara helped clear her head of her worries about Willow, letting her mind turn to other concerns.
"Do you know who I am? I wonder about that sometimes. I know Willow told you about me, but I wished we'd met before the rejoining, so that I could have heard you speak at least once." A shiver ran down Dawn's spine as her thoughts sped ahead to tomorrow's plan. "I know you want to talk again. I watch the way your lips move, the way your eyes squint as if you can see the words you need to say. And I have an idea. Someone--you probably don't want to know who--turned me on to something that might help you get better. It's not a spell, more like an herbal remedy. Anyway, my friend Kit's going to help me get the stuff I need. She's the girl I was telling you about the other day."
Dawn loosened her arms as Tara sat up and turned to look into the teen's eyes. From the corner of her eye she watched Tara's hand move slowly and uncertainly to her face and then tenderly cup her cheek. Even though she knew that her two Tara's were not the same, the gesture reminded her of the first nights after Tara and Willow had come to live with her. "If you get well, everything will be better."
A familiar sound began echoing down the street and Dawn watched a smile form across Tara's face. Her own grin just as wide, Dawn chortled. "I guess you know who that is."
Sharing in the blonde's excitement, Dawn got up from the couch and went to the front door, not surprised to hear Tara's uncertain feet padding behind her. She opened the door just as Willow pulled into the driveway. "Hey, did you remember to get some chamomile tea?" Dawn yelled as she headed out the door.
Willow stepped out of the car. "Yes, and I also remembered to get a box of those fake ice cream bars Buffy likes."
"Tofutti cuties?" Dawn asked, meeting Willow at the car trunk.
"Yep. Make sure you put them in the back of the freezer. They might have gotten a little melty on the ride home from the store." Willow handed Dawn one of the grocery bags, only then noticing Tara standing on the lawn at the edge of the driveway. Barefoot, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and dressed in over-sized navy sweat pants, a faded blue tee shirt and a loose white pull-over, in the half-light of the streetlamps she could have been her lover. Willow handed Dawn a second grocery bag, tucked the third under her arm and shut the trunk. "Anya said she'll be over around eight, have you heard from Xander?"
"He called a little while ago. He's picking up Anya at Magic Box."
Willow pretended to think for a moment. "Well, it's probably too late too make anything. Want to call Marcello's and order pizza?"
Playing along, Dawn asked, "Are you sure? We could make spaghetti or something?"
"But pizza's the more popular choice. Don't you think? Plus, isn't there a special?" Willow asked as she turned towards the house.
Following behind, Dawn watched Willow's hand close protectively around Tara's, as the hacker gently tugged the blonde into step with her. "Sure, tonight's extra-large double topping night." She did not mention that every night was extra-large double topping night.
When they were through the door, Dawn casually kicked it shut behind her and continued to trail behind as Willow and Tara headed for the kitchen. "Mushrooms and onions on the one, sausage and mushrooms on the other?"
Willow propped her grocery bag on the center counter. "Ask them to add green peppers to the vegie pizza, and extra sauce on both."
Dawn dumped her grocery bags next to Willow's. "Anything else?" She asked, picking up the phone.
Willow opened the refrigerator and looked inside. "Two double liters of diet." Willow glanced over a Tara, who had moved to stand in front of the stove. "No make that one diet and one root beer."
Speed dial already punched, Dawn nodded. "Got it."
Willow dropped her purse on the other counter and crossed over to Tara, her eyes catching on the now quite wet hems of the blonde's sweat pants. "We should get you in some dryer clothes."
Still on the phone, Dawn anticipated Willow's next question. "They're folded and on your bed."
Willow nodded her appreciation. "In that case, if we're all set down here, why don't I give Tara her bath before everyone gets here." The red head turned to face Tara, who was standing next to the kitchen sink. "Is that okay with you? I know they aren't very deep, but we need to keep those cuts on your feet clean."
Dawn finished talking to Marcello's and put down the phone, her expression worried. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let Tara come outside with me."
Willow gave the teen a reassuring smile. "Dawnie, don't worry about it. Our girl is fine." Willow declared moving towards Tara. "Aren't you?'
The girl blinked and was surprised to find herself in the kitchen. She watched the red head with the green eyes move towards her. The scent of fresh grass and rainwater hovered in the air. Fingers brushed against hers. She closed her hand around them and woke the memory of Willow's name. Her lips tried to form the word, but she could only form a smile. It seemed enough, because Willow began tugging on her hand.
Tara reached out, catching the hand extended to her, letting it pull her to her feet. Laughter sang around her and warm sand pressed up between her toes. The noise of the surf pulled her around and her eyes caught on the setting sun. Arms closed around her from behind, she felt the press of a familiar body against her back. The laughter sounded closer to her ear, and then she heard words like notes of music. Soft lips brushed against her neck and hands pressed around her waist. She turned wanting to see into eyes green like leaves of grass.
Her hands clamped over her ears at the sudden sound. It pounded against her ears and reminded her of the stampede of the Tsuris demons. Afraid, she looked around and found Willow's smile. Her heart began to slow and she realized she was now in the upstairs bathroom, the one that smelled of lavender. Soap bubbles drifted into the air and she reached towards one of them as it bounced along an air draft heading up towards the ceiling. Her other arm went up in the air as she felt her tee shirt swoosh over her head. Cool air moved about her raising goose bumps across her shoulders and arms. Willow's hands closed over her own and tugged her arms back to her sides. Red hair brushed against her shoulder as the tie to her pants came undone.
The water felt warm against her skin and she could hear the tiny popping of the little bubbles. She opened her eyes and saw Willow's smile. The sponge glided along her arms and down her back. Gentle hands began massaging her scalp and pulling through her hair. She watched one of the bubbles attach itself to Willow's pale yellow shirt and noticed a haphazard line of little water spots stretching up the shoulder. Hands moved through her hair and she remembered this from before, from long ago. Willow helping her to lie back and then rinsing out her hair, Willow smiling as she held a sponge above her head and drizzled warm water over her stomach. She remembered this. It had happened before. Excited, Tara sat up.
The water surged around her body as she twisted in the tub. The words were there, on the tip of her tongue, waiting to get out. She watched green eyes open wide as her hands reached to hold Willow's face. She remembered this. It had happened before. She tried to push the words off of her tongue, but they would not come. She remembered this. It has happened before. She tried to tell Willow with her eyes, and then she leaned forward, her arms moving over Willow's shoulders. As she showered Willow's pale yellow shirt with water spots, she brought her lips to Willow's and breathed the words she could not say into Willow's mouth, sending into Willow all that was in her soul, and then the darkness came, and the dreams began again.