by NeverChosen » Fri Oct 02, 2009 12:00 pm
Missing
Chapter 3B: OMWF part II
Legal: I don't own the stories, concept, character designs, or anything else in BtVS. I own this story, but expect no financial gain from it.
Summary: Tara still has not returned and Willow begins to get really worried. Singing turns sinister (big surprise, I know).
Notes: Willow gets to sing in this one. ^_^
Thanks: To the people who gave us these characters to play with… and I mean all of them. The words, the concepts, the acting, the folks who got the lighting just right (as a backstage type, I think these people need more credit), even the frequently unfortunate wardrobe- all pieces that made a whole.
Willow woke up to the demanding beep of her alarm clock, realizing she was again wrapped around Tara’s pillow. She squeezed it, trying to ignore the electric alarm demon for a few more minutes by burying her head in the smell of Tarahair. Day four. It was OK to be lonely now. Not that she hadn’t been lonely since the moment Tara had left. The difference was that now she was allowed to be.
The alarm clock was a relentless beast, so Willow finally turned over and fumbled with it enough to turn it off. She sat up with a yawn, rubbing her eyes. Her cloths were set out on the dresser. Grey shirt, black pants; perfect for a moody weekend. Beside them was a picture- Buffy had snapped it at the beach on one of their rare trips. Willow and Tara were on their elbows on a beach towel, sunglasses perched atop their heads, shoulders touching. As always, Tara’s head was tilted ever so slightly toward Willow’s. Never so much as to make anyone notice unless you knew to look. But when you did it was always there.
Willow picked up the bamboo frame, her finger sliding along Tara’s smiling face as if to caress her cheek. Just to say ‘good morning’ to her would be such a gift right now, even though her heart filled with a thousand other things she needed to say.
I lived my life in shadow,
Never the sun in my heart,
Supporting someone else cuz’
Second fiddle was my part.
Now I’m bathed in light.
Something just isn’t right.
I’m under your spell.
How else could it be
Anyone would notice me.
It’s magic I can tell
How you set me free
Cast as your romantic lead.
I saw a world of darkness,
Curses, demons, evil fiends.
I always took for granted,
Magic was part of those scenes,
But beyond the arcane, you showed me
Magic in the mundane.
I’m under your spell,
Nothing I can do,
You just took my soul with you.
You worked your charms so well,
Finally I knew,
Everything I dreamed was true,
You made me believe.
Willow heard a chorus in the background, listening with tears in her eyes as she swayed in a slow dance, the photograph clutched to her chest.
You’ve left me alone,
Why can’t you please just come home?
I’m under your spell,
If only you could see
I'm needing you so helplessly.
In my personal hell,,
Without earth under me,
Lost as an uprooted tree
You made me complete!
The chorus took over again and Willow squeezed her eyes shut as she looked toward the heavens. The tears she had been holding back since that wretched night began tumbling down her face.
You made me complete… you made me complete… The final words of the song echoed through her head like recrimination.
Willow sat heavily on the bed and let loose the anguish inside. Three days she had convinced herself she was angry, that she was right, and that Tara was being unreasonable. Three days to reject the misery in her heart that she knew very well she herself had put there. But Tara hadn’t come home. She hadn’t called.
I messed up too bad this time. She was scared when she left. Scared. Who’da thunk it. Scared of me. I scared someone. The last person in the world I ever wanted to hurt. And I still did.
“Will?”
Her reverie broken, Willow heard the voice from her door and belatedly realized there had been several soft knocks already.
“Yeah?” Willow scrubbed her eyes clear and started toward the door, putting the photo she had been clutching face down on the nightstand. She opened the door and saw Buffy looking world-weary.
“Bad news- Giles just called. Turns out there’s badness going on after all.”
“I knew it.” Willow pouted. “Singing. Evil. It figured.”
“Yeah, well, there are a couple of burned up bodies. We don’t know if it’s the singing but it would be an awful big coinki-dink.”
“I assume we’re headed for the Magic Box.”
“Yeah. Xander’s picking us up in twenty minutes. Long enough?”
“Sure.” Willow started to turn back in to the room, but Buffy’s voice stopped her.
“Will… are you OK?”
Willow looked back, seeing the glimmer of concern in Buffy’s clouded eyes. She noticed. That’s a step for her- she hasn’t really paid any attention to what other people are feeling since we brought her back. Maybe she’s finally coming out of her shell. She started to answer, but Buffy spoke again first.
“Cuz it sounded like someone was strangling a weasel in here a minute ago.”
Willow’s mood curdled. So much for empathy.
“Singing. Evil.” She said, by way of explanation, and turned to get ready.
Xander and Anya were both in the car waiting in front of the house by the time Willow had dressed. Buffy met her at the door and they all headed for the Magic Box with a brief detour to Donut Nut for a portable breakfast of dubious nutritional value.
“I’m telling you, it was like my brain was spilling everything and I couldn’t stop!” Xander had not let up since the first panicked statement when Willow got in the car and the tirade didn’t stop as they entered the Magic Box. “Giles help us! Please- I have an axe, just tell me where to point it!”
“I have a few leads now, but nothing solid yet. Sadly, having victims turn up actually makes researching a lot easier. Spontaneous combustion is not terribly common.” Giles looked up from where he was pulling a pile of books from the shelf. “Buffy, did you have any luck last night?”
Buffy’s eyes went wide for a moment before answering, “Get lucky? Me? What? No. Nothing. Nobody knows anything…”
Willow wondered what that was about, but dismissed it in favor of worrying. Singing was bad enough, but now there was danger involved. And she didn’t even know where Tara was, let alone if she was alright. Her eyes lingered for a while on the shop phone. Who to call? Where would Tara go? They both knew a couple people on UC Sunnydale campus, but she didn’t know any of their numbers.
She could wait outside one of Tara’s classes- she had an Art History lecture in about three hours. Apologize again, make sure she was OK. A little location spell would show where she was now, but Tara would probably notice that and it wouldn’t be the best way to show contrition for her magical misstep. Merging her mind into the internet and trying to access UC Sunnydale’s security cameras would be another way to check on her, but that really felt like stalking. And doing the merge thing online worked great for speeding up web surfing, but the only time she’d tried doing it with video footage she’d gotten so disoriented she hadn’t really gotten anything out of it. Not to mention the puking afterwards. It was on her list of spells that needed tweaking, but she hadn’t yet gotten around to it.
She dropped her phone back into her bag and started to set up her laptop. The Magic Box internet connection was awful, but she thought she might be able to get something else now that there would be police reports and such. When her screen came up she checked her police network trawler bot. She’d set it up with keywords to pick up reports automatically with phrases like ‘exsanguination’, ‘neck trauma’, and ‘gang on PCP’, but adding “burn victim” to the list meant she had to run it again. The police reports started sifting into their folder, along with a status report on the system she’d set in place. The Sunnydale PD seemed to be as clueless about her forays into their system as ever- she’d only had a few times that she had to pull the trawler for fear of discovery, and that had been because the Mayor was more fastidious about network security than most. Yet another benefit of him being gone.
While the trawler chugged away in the background Willow pulled up her bookmark of the Sunnydale obituaries, noting which would be likely suspects for future undead. Nobody she knew, thankfully. It always hurt when it was, even if it was just a name she knew in passing. Since Tara had taken off, she’d had a knot in her belly every time she checked the reports, despite the statistical improbability that one of the random killings would have been her. The knot unwound as she was able to return to objectivity. There were two possibles that she should tell Buffy about anyhow- one for Restful Cemetery and the other bound for Shady Acres. Daily death duty done, she clicked open the police file and started reading.
“There have been three bodies so far. Burned with their clothes intact. The addresses are all different. Oh- and there was someone who died in a house fire. That may be one that spread.” She scanned through the information. So much of these reports was just standard language that it was quick work to glean the important information.
“Any pattern to the locations?” Giles handed a forlorn looking Xander a short stack of books.
“Google-mapping as we speak.” Willow let her fingers do the walking and ‘hrumphed’ at the results. “No. Without more data points, they’re just a scatter. The times are all after three in the afternoon, but they aren’t certain about most of them.”
“Is there any way to map out the singing occurrences as well?” Giles peered at the map, confirming what she’d told them.
“Not unless someone noted them all down somehow. There was too much of it going on.” Willow started another set of searches for new dance groups in town, musicals showing at local theaters, and any unauthorized use of public radio transmissions.
“Do we really know the singing and the barbecue bodies are from the same thing?” Xander groused. “Is it so far fetched that two Hellmouth-y events could happen at the same time?”
“With our luck?” Buffy mumbled from behind her favorite book of demonology.
“We don’t have a causal relationship, per se, but it’s the only reasonable conclusion.” Another stack of books joined the one on the table and Giles settled down behind it.
“Ockham’s Razor.” Willow nodded.
“I feel strangely belittled by my lack of comprehension. Anya? Help?” Xander tentatively picked a pair of books from the closer stack.
“The simplest answer is usually the right one.” Willow supplied for him.
“I like that. The simplest answer is that nothing is going on, so we can ignore it and it will go away. Simple!” No one dignified Xander’s sarcasm with a response, so he weighed the two books in his hands, chose the lighter one, and started skimming.
Six customers and two and a half hours later Willow detached herself from her laptop. There was nothing of substance other than two more burnt corpses and the medical examiner was taking his sweet time making any conclusions. Of course, making conclusions that mentioned spontaneous combustion probably led to short and laughable careers for people in that profession, so he was probably trying to come up with an appropriate excuse for what had happened.
Maybe Tara knew something about demons that burned people from the inside. It would be a good excuse to talk to her, much better than just checking up on her and disappearing. And it was a nice, neutral topic: spontaneous combustion versus demon malfeasance.
“I have to run over to school for a while. I can pick up some lunch stuff on the way back- any requests?” Willow asked.
“Not burgers.” Buffy’s was the only response to her offer. Willow smiled at the disgust in her voice. Familiarity had turned to contempt, all right.
“Checking on your girl?” Xander grinned from behind his current book, eyes following her guilty blush far more closely than he had been following the reading. “I’m surprised you lasted this long.”
“Um. Yeah.” She ducked her head. Me too. She headed out, pack slung over her shoulder. As much as the singing itself had her seriously wigging, it was hard to see it as really dangerous. Ockham’s Razor aside, burnt bodies didn’t exactly point to singing either. She just had to check and make sure Tara was OK, and that would be enough. No need to try to drag her back to the Magic Box or anything, not yet.
The walk to UC Sunnydale wasn’t long, but it gave her time to think. The best way to approach was probably to stick to the singing problem. It would be safest to bring Tara back to the Magic Box. Then they could just happen to talk, and maybe happen to make up too?
Singing would be much less evil if it were Tara singing me to sleep. Oh God, what if I start singing to her in front of her class?
Willow failed to clamp down on her imagination before the complete image floated up of herself singing “Baby Come Back” with Tara’s classmates standing and staring at them both. And Tara would say “Gimme One Reason to Stay Here”. And she would reply “In The Name of Love”. There would be hesitation, where Tara would ask “What’s Love Got To Do With It”? Then they’d banter about it with part of that song from Moulin Rouge, the poorly named “Elephant Love Medley”. Then the big finish, with…
A bright red SUV drove by, blaring “It’s the End of the World As We Know It”, rattling Willow out of her revere. Well, that was inauspicious. I guess other people are figuring out the Xander-cure for singing while driving.
Sunnydale campus was somewhat less populated than usual, with only a scattering of people on the quad as Willow hurried through. There was some peripheral hint of music, a few ballads between couples, and off by the football field there seemed to be some big choreographed show tune going, but no burning.
Tara’s Art History class was inside the Watterson building, one of the older structures on campus. The hallways were narrow and tended to flood when class let out, so Willow sat on a low wall in front of the entry to the main hall that they would emerge from. She chewed on her lip, trying to formulate the conversation to come.
Me: Hi… I know you don’t want to see me, but this is important. Can I talk to you for a minute?
Her: It’s about the singing, isn’t it. I knew it was evil!
Me: That’s what I said! There’s these burnt bodies and I was wanted to be sure you were OK.
Her: Aww. How sweet. But I’m still mad, mind you.
Me: Too mad to help save Sunnydale?
Her: Of course not. And who knows, maybe we’ll make up over mochas while we research! You know how I like smart girls.
OK, maybe it wouldn’t go quite that easily. Willow checked her watch and noted that the class was late letting out. It wouldn’t be the first time, but it made her nervous, none the less. She slid off her seat and entered the hallway. The emptiness resounded with the slap of her sandals as she headed for the classroom door. A sheet of paper had been taped up, with an academic scrawl across it baring the words, “Class canceled. Professor has lost voice.”
Willow glared at the sign. Fate had conspired against her. Fate needed to be punished one of these days, she decided. Or maybe it’s just getting us Scoobies back for cheating it too many times. Regardless, this meant no Tara meeting. No reassurance of Tara’s safety. Realistically, the chances of Tara becoming a combustion casualty were miniscule, but the sheer randomness was disconcerting.
Stopping by Tara’s old dorm room didn’t allay her fears. Of course there was someone else in it now. They’d moved her out of there officially last year, making the final decision to live together at Buffy’s house. Where have you gone? Willow stared at the door as if it might give her an answer. She started to walk away, her mind running a merciless array of memories through her head.
This is the door where she took me into her life. Here is the hall where Madison grumbled at us for being noisy and I thought I would die from embarrassment until I saw Tara’s slinky little smile. Here is where I dripped candle wax on the carpet during the blackout. There is the stairway where I stopped just saying goodbye and walked her all the way to her door. The timeline was all jumbled, but the significance was no less clear for it.
“Hey. Willow! Long time no see.”
Willow squinted into the light streaming from the open door out of the dorm. The owner of the voice was Bryce, a PoliSci major who had lived down the hall from Tara. He was less lanky than when she’d last seen him, the freshman fifteen having taken firm hold.
“Yeah. Sorry, I can’t chat- need to run. Have you seen Tara around?” She asked, trading him for his place in the door.
“Not since a night or two ago at the Pump. She looked upset though. Everything OK?” Bryce pushed his glasses up his nose, the reflection of the sun making them into two shining orange discs.
“Not exactly. If you see her, can you ask her to call? Tell her it’s about… Scooby stuff- she’ll know what I mean.” Willow hated having to add the last part. Why couldn’t it be enough that she needed to talk to her? But it wouldn’t be.
“Will do.” Bryce nodded.
---
Willow stared at the front of the Magic Box, wondering why it felt so empty when she knew very well it was full of her friends. Everyone would be in various states of studious stupor, there’d probably be a couple more empty coffee cups scattered on various surfaces than when she left, and there would be a general snippiness unique to non-urgent research. With a sigh Willow pushed open the door.
“Hello! Welcome to the Magic Bo- oh, it’s you.” Anya’s head disappeared back behind the counter from whence it had momentarily appeared. Willow was briefly reminded of the Whack-a-Mole games of yore and she bit back a smirk. From the sounds of it, Anya was unpacking another box of pseudo-mystical knickknacks of the sort that gave Giles a conniption but turned more profit than all the real magical goods put together.
“Our savior returns- bringing welcome distraction! Ooo. And fish tacos.” Xander unfolded himself painfully from the exact same position he had been in when she’d left earlier.
“No luck then?” Willow swung the big Rubio’s takeout bag onto the table as Xander cleared a space.
“We’ve found him, actually. The Lord of the Dance.” Giles raised his eyebrows in evident distaste of the title.
“Just a demon, not the scary one.” Xander clarified. “Where’s Tara?”
“I don’t know. Class was canceled.” Willow felt anxiety start to tighten around her chest again. “I really think I should just do a location spell. There’s badness going down. I can’t just leave her out there, not doing anything.”
"Locating the demon may be difficult- it says here that he tends to be manifest only when he pleases, which is largely when he feeds. The burning is the effect of that- victims go from singing and dancing into a true frenzy…" Giles looked up long enough to note Willow's expression. "Oh. You meant finding Tara."
"No. This makes sense. Now that we have something to work with." Willow wished it were a bit less logical, but it was terrifically selfish to do things the way she wanted to. Finding the Lord of the Dance would help everyone. Finding Tara only helped her own frame of mind. And would probably piss Tara off further. "There has to be something physical though. The spell can't follow if he's incorporeal, especially if there's some diffusion thing involved. Can I see the book?"
"Of course." Giles passed it over.
"Perfect." Willow scanned the passage. "There's some amulet thing used to summon him."
"But that could be anywhere, now that he's summoned." Xander waved away the idea as if it was a fly. "It's not like he'd hang around some piece of jewelry that probably has some kind of hold on him."
"Which is precisely why we should find it first." Giles pointed out. "It may be the only way we can get rid of him."
"Says here he goes away on his own." Willow cocked her head to the side as she continued reading. "Then the amulet surfaces a few decades later and the whole thing repeats."
"Sounds like a plan! The sands are on sale this week." Anya smiled. "And since it's for the common good, I'll give you a discount on the fleet oil."
"Anya," Xander started, disapproval evident in his voice.
"No, this is no time to quibble over a few cents. I want the curse ended too and I should contribute to the public welfare." Anya interrupted, self-congratulation pouring off her like musk off a weasel. Willow started a silent count to twenty, knowing that for stemming what she wanted to say to Anya, ten just wouldn't cut it. She imagined Anya explaining to the families of the burn victims. So sorry kids, but mommy died because Willow ran out of petty cash when she got lunch for the research party. Don't worry, we'll catch the bad guy as soon as she finishes paying her tab from that ritual to weed out the gremlin infestation last month. Twenty count was reached and Willow tuned back in to the conversation, only to find the men-folk had come to her aid. Anya would be spared, this time.
"Here's the ground azurite. I'll get the rest of what we need." Giles said quietly, heading for the back room.
"Public welfare means free, Ahn, not discount. Not sale price." Xander seemed to be imitating Mrs. Lewis, the Sunnydale Elementary kindergarten teacher. Willow prepared a glare to end all glares in case Anya decided to object to the supplies being gathered without any reference to stock numbers or price-per-ounce.
"But in the private sector, emergency requirement of goods usually makes prices skyrocket. Government can crush it by price freezes, but what good is saving a nation without free market forces!" Anya had her full attention on Xander and Willow felt sorry for him. Just not sorry enough to intervene.
"Buffy- can you help me clear some of this stuff off the table?" She asked, seeing Buffy lost in thought with no signs of emerging. The eyes cleared and Buffy seemed to take in what was happening.
"Got it. How much space do you need?" A squeak of indignation from Anya made them both look to where Xander had flipped the store's sign to Closed. Buffy sighed. "She just doesn't get it, does she."
"She doesn't want to get it." Willow pulled open the map Giles had provided flopping it open in the space Buffy was clearing. "That would require sacrifice. God forbid she be inconvenienced."
"Must be nice." It should have been sarcasm, but when Willow glanced up, the look in Buffy's face was wistful. Once, that might drawn pity out of her, but now it irked Willow. Where did Buffy get off, thinking she had the monopoly on self sacrifice? She had no say in it, but if she stopped being the Slayer tomorrow, could she drop the fight any more than the rest of them could? Knowing what they knew?
Giles emerged with a box of various goods under one arm, mortar and pestle under the other. He handed them over to Willow and began sorting out the ingredients while Buffy idly browsed the book. Between the two of them the preparations were rapidly completed.
"Now, the spell will be exactly as precise or general as you make it. In this case, the only way to focus on this particular amulet is to keep it very clearly visualized. That's your job." Willow looked across the table at Giles where he had positioned himself with his bowl of powder. "I'm taking the seeker's role."
"One moment- let me see the book again." Giles frowned. "Amulets not being my strong suit, as such."
"Will. This is the amulet?" Buffy looked across the table at Willow, eyes wide. Willow nodded, not understanding the urgency in her voice.
"Dawn had it on this morning."
"Are you sure? It was ju…" Xander started to ask, but trailed off with his brow knit. "It's not that impressive looking and remembering demon stuff is not exactly your strong suit.
"I know it was. This isn't "demon stuff". This is an accessory. And it was this one."
"Where is Dawn, anyway?" Anya asked looking around.
Silence fell across the shop like a dead weight as the realization came to them.
"When did you last see her?" Willow asked Buffy.
"This morning. She went to school, like always." Buffy shook her head. "This is ridiculous. She's not like a lost watch. She's not going to be the last place I saw her."
"Giles- what does the book say about the person who summons the demon? The amulet disappears, but what about…" Willow swallowed before she continued, "What about the summoner?"
Giles started scanning down the page, nearly upsetting his powder bowl in his haste. "They don't seem too concerned with the summoner here. There's no mention."
"Why would Dawn summon a demon?" Anya asked the room in general. "You'd think that little run in with Halley would have made some impression."
"She didn't. She was as surprised as anyone." Xander broke in.
"Willow. Find her." Buffy commanded. "Now."
Willow nodded wordlessly, looking to Giles to confirm he was ready as well.
The spell went smoothly, a single building marked by a glowing string of red sand standing in defiance of gravity over it. A smattering of orange residue collected around it. Releasing the energy of the spell with the breath she had been holding, Willow scanned the area.
"The Bronze."
"Right. Now Buffy-" Giles looked around. "Buffy?"
"Gone like the wind." Xander pointed at the open front door. "Didn't even wait till the sand had settled."
“What should we do?” Willow looked to Giles for instructions.
“We wait.” Giles said evenly.
“Wait?” Anya looked confused.
“Like a second wave? Cavalry riding in?” Xander gestured as gallantly as he could manage with the sword he had produced from the back room.
“No.” Giles removed his glasses. “You can’t have missed how… detached Buffy has been.”
“She was in Hell, Watcher-man. You don’t bounce back from that in a day. Wierdness is to be expected.” Xander let the sword fall, though.
“She’s not bouncing though. More like going splat.” Anya noted. “You want to shock her out of it?”
“Precisely.” Giles focused on his glasses, examining them for blemishes. “I think that in execution of her duties she may find some… spark of hope. Saving Dawn for her just takes that away from her- by removing the responsibility, we likewise take from her the realization of the good that she does.”
“So you sent Buffy after the musical demon by herself?!” Willow asked incredulously.
“It is the duty of the Slayer to-” Giles began, in the solemn tone of a proper Watcher.
“To die young and alone. Yeah, we decided to skip that part Giles.” Willow snapped, interrupting him. “She needs us and I’m not just abandoning her because she might have an epiphany from being in mortal danger.”
He blinked owlishly at the harshness of her reposte, at a loss for a response.
“Bronzing it is!” Xander flourished his sword again.
“It’s still daylight- leave the big stuff here.” Willow ordered. “We’ll take your car- we’re less likely to end up singing if you play that CD of yours.”
“I’m not sure we need to-“ Giles protested again.
“If you don’t want to come, by all means. Stay here.” Willow dismissed Giles’ argument before he finished it, glaring at him.
“Sorry. She’s right.” Xander trotted for the door.
“Don’t forget to lock up if you leave!” Anya was next to pass him, patting him condescendingly on the back as she did.
“I-“ Giles took stock of the empty shop before pulling out his keys. “Hold up, I’m coming.”
---
The Lord of the Dance was gone. Defeated… in a matter of speaking.
It should have been a typical end to a typical crisis. At some point over the past summer, averting disaster had become something cleaned up after and forgotten as soon as possible, rather than celebrated. Defeated baddies were just bodies to be buried before heading home to pack Dawn's lunch. It was not that it had become any easier, only that the celebrations had become hollow affairs, largely abandoned by silent mutual consensus. And with what they had just learned, celebration was the furthest thing from any of their minds.
Giles walked away from the warehouse where they had confronted the Lord of the Dance, shoulders bowed by the weight of his thoughts. Buffy had disappeared at some point, which Willow was unsure if she should be grateful for or not. Certainly, if it had been Anya, she would have been thrilled. The former demon was flushed in fury, the object of which was staying safely on the opposite side of Giles' car.
"I think everyone is missing the point here. Disaster averted, yes. A disaster which could have been avoided if not for someone's sticky fingers!"
“And Xander summoned a demon because he wanted everybody happy and dancing!” Dawn pointed at Anya’s fiancé. “Why aren’t you yelling at him!”
“He didn’t steal store property!”
“Anya, just leave it. It’s been a long day for her. We can all yell at her tomorrow.” Willow said, with a guilty twinge at the realization that really, she just didn’t want to deal with this right now.
“Fine. Let the filcher go.” Anya huffed. “In my day we’d just cut off her hand and left it at that. Simple. Direct.”
Dawn paled.
“Anya, lets all keep our hands to ourselves. I think there’s been enough punishment for one evening- I mean, she just about got forced into marrying a de-… becoming an underage concubine for the forces of darkness.” Xander put a placating hand on his fiancée’s shoulder.
“Don’t think I’m letting you off either! You could have ended up someone else’s queen!” Like an irate woodpecker, Anya’s sharp finger was jabbing the point home into his chest.
“I think Willow has the right idea. Let’s just head back. It’s been a rough day for everyone. And this I will make sure gets locked away well and thoroughly.” Retrieving the necklace from Dawn, Giles was the voice of authority that got everyone moving.
It was on the ride back that Willow couldn't wall away her worries any longer. Buffy had gotten her reward for ultimate sacrifice, only to have her best friend tear her away. Heaven. What could it have been like? The scientist in her wanted to know, but the human would never be able to ask.
Willow took Dawn up to her room but didn’t have the energy to scold her. None of the bodies found had been Tara, so she had to be OK. Just… not OK and here. Tomorrow she’d ask some more on campus. Maybe even stop by the Wicca group at night. What would Tara be doing now? It wasn’t all that late. Willow intended to just make some toast and go to bed, but Tara would probably be reading for class. Or maybe washing a single set of dishes from a lonely meal for one.
I miss you, baby. Do you miss me? I guess not. I mean, hello, not exactly hiding from you here. I did something wrong, but how am I supposed to make it up to you if you won’t even see me? How do I make it right? God- I’m going to have to tell you about Buffy too… what we did to her. What I did to her. How did everything go so wrong?
The hollow in Willow’s stomach constricted into a knot that she didn’t think toast was going to unravel. She went to the window and stared out at the empty night. Moose Taking a Sponge Bath was just peeking over the horizon. She settled her forehead against the cool window, letting the condensation of her breath raise a cloudy curtain against the outside world.
I can’t do this by myself. You told me this was the room where I didn’t have to be brave… and I don’t feel brave right now. Just lost. And if I’m not brave, who will be? Buffy just told me she’d rather be dead. Dawn is shoplifting. Xander is marrying a demon and so worried about it he summoned another demon to check if it’d turn out right. Nothing is turning out right, and I… I don’t know how to make it better.
Willow shuffled over to the dresser to pull out her pajamas. She hesitated, though, and pulled out two other articles of clothing instead. A silvery turtleneck shirt of Tara’s, and long , flowing skirt to match. She laid them on the bed tenderly, fingers trailing over the material as if unwilling to let them go. Standing back, she tried to organize her feelings, if only for a moment.
“Aliento de Vida”
A subtle breeze seemed to shift the cloth of the skirt for a moment, before catching both pieces of clothing. They rose, filling out as if worn by a figure she knew every curve of. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t even a very good substitute. But as Willow curled up on the bed, her head in the invisible figure’s lap, she felt the familiar hands stroking her hair. It was something to hold onto. It would have to be enough.
.
IcanhazDibbs 
