Laid To Rest Parts 16 - 29
TITLE: Laid To Rest
RATING: NC-17
COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Joss owns them. I love ‘em.
FEEDBACK: Yep,
tommo27@hotmail.comSPOILERS: References to Season 5
ARCHIVE: No problem, just let me know eh?
SUMMARY: Set in my own Buffyverse, this continues on from the situation set up in ‘End of the Road’. Faith is out of prison and living in LA for now. However, the events of ‘The Gift’ have happened.
Part 16
“I thought you’d be here,” Willow said, joining Tara on her lone vantage point, gazing across the ocean. The redhead pushed at her hair, blown forwards by the wind that snatched at it with more of a tug than a caress. She stepped up beside the blonde, watching the way the other girl’s hands tightened on the stone wall, already reddened with cold at the fingertips. Tara had tied her hair back into a ponytail revealing taut, white features, every contour of her face carrying strain with it. It showed, Willow thought sadly to herself, all her life showed so clearly on her face. Why hadn’t she ever seen it before? She chastised herself for being so foolish, for coming so close to driving away the one thing that made sense in her life right now. When Tara didn’t answer, Willow inched closer and tried again, her eye roaming over the other girl’s face.
“You always loved the water so much,” Willow said softly, her eyes drawn to where Tara’s were gazing downwards. Beneath them, at the base of the wall, the water was slapping against the brick, ceaselessly moving back and forth, rushing in with force to crash against the wall, then retreating out only a few yards before doing it all again.
Tara turned to look at her, her head held high and noble on her long neck. Willow’s breath left her body as she was reminded of how beautiful the other girl was. The simplicity of Tara’s beauty to Willow was that she just…was. She had always been that way. Sometimes, Willow remembered, when they were first together, she had stayed awake at night and just gazed down at Tara as she slept. She had revelled in that beauty, in the shape and texture of Tara. And it had all been so easy then; easy to love her and be loved. Her heart missed a beat as she realised how much she yearned for that feeling once more.
“I still do,” Tara said quietly, her eyes holding Willow’s for a brief moment, then pulling away. “I haven’t changed.”
Her words struck truth into Willow’s mind, together with a blinding sense of shame. All this time, it had been Tara who had walked beside her. She hadn’t faltered along the way, not a single step. When Willow forced herself to remember all of the important things that had happened over the last twelve months, Tara had been a part of every one of them. Since finding the blonde witch as her friend, companion, lover, soul mate, Willow knew she had never felt more at ease with loving someone in her whole life. She hadn’t included Tara in things that had happened; no, Tara had been there because that was the way it was meant to be. When Buffy had stepped forward and dissented against Tara’s father, Willow knew it was because everyone saw how important Tara was to her. She sighed inwardly, everyone saw that but her. The magick the witch weaved wasn’t found in spells or incantations. It was in every moment that she smiled and talked. In every blissful arch of her body over Willow’s. In every whispered devotion she made to the redhead. It was found in the seconds before lovemaking and the long lazy hours after.
“Tara,” Willow moved closer, noticing with a sinking heart how Tara almost flinched away from her, an imperceptible movement that curled her fingers on the stone like jagged claws. “I want things to be right between us. Tell me what to do,” her voice caught in her throat with fear that it might be too late. Too late to go back.
“Things can’t be right if you don’t love me Willow,” Tara said sadly, her eyelids slowly closing over her eyes that were shining brightly with unshed tears. “If you don’t want me anymore, just say so, and I’ll go.” She dropped her head in defeat, too weak to fight it any more, to pretend that she could be any use to Willow.
“I do love you!” Willow gasped, the unbearable thought of ever not loving Tara catching her in its midst. “I’ve never stopped loving you.”
“But you’ve shut me out of your life. All the things we promised to one another, everything we planned…you’ve shut me out of all of that. When Buffy died, she took you with her and I feel like I’m dying…” Tara whispered, opening her eyes and facing Willow for what she thought was the last time. “I feel like you don’t want me to love you anymore. All my life, Willow,” she gestured meaninglessly with her hand, “I’ve had people turn away from me, stop loving me, stop wanting my love. And now you…” she gulped back the tears and squeezed her eyes tight shut for a second. “I can’t bear it anymore,” she sighed, “I’m so tired of all the weeping and the hurting and…being without my Willow.” She shrugged helplessly, unable to say anything that might help to take away the pain.
“Oh god…Tara…” Willow’s face had grown longer with each word Tara uttered, feeling in every sound the other girl made the pain that she hadn’t given her access to. Closing herself off from Tara had made the other girl believe that she wasn’t wanted, that she wasn’t loved. In essence, Willow had treated Tara like every other person in her life, closing her down, shutting her off. Never once had the redhead thought to invite her in again. Her eyes wide, Willow felt the sadness tug at the corners of her mouth. She stood for a second, motionless, her body buffeted by the wind slightly, before moving forward, taking Tara’s hands in her own and pulling the other girl to her. Tara’s fingers felt like ice in the redhead’s hands and she squeezed them gently, hoping to put a little warmth back into her touch.
“I love you so much,” she said fiercely, blinking away the tears that stung the backs of her eyes. “I’m still your Willow, I always will be. Tara, we just got lost in all of this…” she shook her head, “all this death. But I told you I’d always find you.” She reached up with one hand and placed it on the other girl’s cheek, tenderly stroking away the wetness there. “Let me find you again, Tara. Please? Because without you, nothing makes any sense.” Feeling her voice falter, Willow stopped, swallowing hard on the guilt that edged all of her fears. She pressed her palm against Tara’s cheek, watching as the other girl looked at her, truly looked at her, fervently hoping that she could see the honesty in her eyes.
“If you ever left me…” Willow shook her head, unable to finish. “You make me whole, Tara. Without you I’m a fool. And I’ve been a fool so much lately,” she closed her eyes briefly in regret and shame, feeling Tara’s hand grip her own tightly. “Please come back to me,” she whispered.
“You…you d-d-don’t want me to go?” Tara stuttered, her heart beating so loudly she was sure it would crack the very stone on which they stood. Her head whirled as Willow smiled slowly at her.
“No, I don’t want you to go,” the redhead replied, her voice tinged with sadness that Tara could ever think that. “I want you to stay, right here,” she took Tara’s hand and firmly placed it over her heart, covering it with her own.
An expression of such joy crossed over Tara’s face that Willow thought her own heart would break with the beauty of it. Tara kept looking at her hand on Willow’s chest, then up at the redhead’s eyes, wide and waiting in breathless anticipation. For a moment nothing moved, not the wind, not the ocean, not even the clouds that were hitherto scurrying across the sky above them. There was perfect silence as Tara felt the doors to her heart being opened again. The emotions she had been holding in check for so long flooded out, barely able to distinguish themselves from one another, instead manifesting themselves as a current of feeling, of warmth, of life. Feeling Willow touch her as though for the first time, the blonde was filled with a surge of something she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Hope.
She brought her hand up to cup Willow’s cheek, feeling the redhead push her face against the palm of her hand, her stormy sea-green eyes closing in blissful compliance. Leaning forward, Tara stroked Willow’s cheek with her thumb gently, the skin underneath tingling against her touch. Her lips brushed Willow’s own and both girls felt their bodies sigh in response. Tara smiled. She was home again.
Part 17
Tara’s teeth were chattering by the time they reached the hotel room. With a concerned glare, Willow decisively pulled the curtains across the huge window overlooking the bay, even though it was still light outside. She clicked on the bedside lamps and turned to the blonde, who was hugging herself with her arms, rubbing them briskly up and down her shoulders in a vain attempt to fill herself with some kind of warmth.
“Bath,” Willow stated firmly as she marched into the bathroom, twisting the tap on so that water crashed loudly into the tub. She dropped in some of the scented bath oil she’d brought with her, sniffing appreciatively at the exotic fragrance of jasmine and gardenia that drifted up towards her. She waited until the water from the tap began giving off some steam, then marched purposefully back into the bedroom again.
“I’m running you a nice hot bath,” she told Tara, who was still standing in the middle of the room, looking a little shell-shocked and very, very cold.
“B-b-but Willow…”
“No buts!” the redhead held up her hand and planted a mock glare onto her face, her eyes travelling down Tara’s body as a sly smile crossed her face. “Well, not unless it’s yours,” she added, eliciting a faint grin from the blonde. Taking Tara by the elbow she led her into the bathroom and sat her down on the toilet seat, whilst she added some cold water to the bath.
“Willow, I’m not an invalid you know,” Tara’s voice held a hint of reprove as she began to unbutton her cargo pants.
“I know honey,” Willow turned from where she was kneeling by the side of the bath and put her hand on Tara’s knee comfortingly. “But you’re freezing cold and some of that’s my fault, so I just wanted to…you know, look after you a bit. If that’s okay. It is okay isn’t it?” she gazed up at Tara, looking for the entire world like a child eager to please a parent.
Tara reached out and put her hand on Willow’s cheek, stroking at her lover’s face tenderly. “Of course it is,” she smiled graciously, feeling a tingle of warmth in the pit of her stomach.
“I feel horrible for everything you’ve been through,” Willow said, flashing a bright smile at Tara before returning to swish the water around in the bath with her hand. “I wish we’d talked before this got…” she paused, thinking, then added, “well, like this.”
“And I wish you’d turned to me after Buffy,” Tara slid her pants and underwear down her legs and stood up, shaking them off her ankles. Sitting down again, she grabbed the bottom of her long sleeved shirt and pulled it off over her head. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you in all that pain and not having anyone to talk to. And for not talking to me.”
“I felt so guilty for not stopping it,” Willow said quietly, her hand ceasing in its figure of eight around the tub. “I still feel guilty for not stopping it,” she sighed.
“I know honey,” Tara reached out again and caught a few wisps of Willow’s vibrant hair in her fingers, letting them slip in and out of her grasp. “I felt the same when my mother died, was there something I could have done, was there something I missed…but sometimes it just happens. You loved her; she’s gone, but it doesn’t mean you have to hide that love away. It makes it better,” she stroked Willow’s hair one last time before unclasping her bra and taking it off. “It makes the time you did have with her all the more precious.”
Willow reached up to the taps and turned off the water, the bathroom suddenly falling quiet around them. She dropped her head and leant it on the side of the tub thoughtfully. “I know, I mean, I know that. But I still miss her,” she said sadly.
“But that’s okay,” Tara said, shivering slightly now she was fully naked. “It’s okay to miss her.” She smiled softly at the weight Willow had been carrying for so long, so needlessly. “My poor Willow,” she added gently.
Turning, Willow let her eyes drink in the sight of the woman she loved, her gaze slowly taking in every inch of the body in front of her. How could Tara have thought that she didn’t love her? It was all Willow could do right now, all she ever felt like doing forever.
“My beautiful Tara,” the redhead sighed.
Tara blushed at the sight of Willow looking at her so openly, even though there had been days in the past when neither of them had got dressed all day and had merely spent time in bed with one another. But this, right now, this felt different, she thought. It was as though Willow was seeing her again, a newness colouring the air between them. As her eyes met Willow’s, she saw the green in them deepen to a shade of pure desire, making her shiver again.
“Okay, come on, in the bath now,” Willow mistook Tara’s response to her lust as coldness and stepped aside as Tara got into the tub, leaning back and letting out a gratified sigh as the warm water lapped against her skin. Getting to her feet, Willow shot her girlfriend a quick smile and headed for the door, but Tara caught her by the wrist, holding her back.
“No, stay with me,” Tara asked, her eyes flickering with the heat that was massaging her bones and senses.
Grinning, Willow crouched by the side of the bath. “Want me to wash your back?” she asked.
“Only if that means you get in with me,” Tara said, brushing her hand up to trail over her stomach, dripping water onto the flesh there.
Willow felt her throat tighten. She knew that tone so well, and hadn’t heard it for so long that it took her by surprise. Bringing her eyes up to meet Tara’s, she saw it in the other girl’s face, an undisguised sensuality that flickered in her own body too. Moistening her lips, Willow attempted a smile, blinking slowly.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
Tara leaned her head back, closing her eyes just once, hiding the deep blue of lust that was rocketing through her body like wildfire. She trailed her hand higher up her body, to where her breasts were peeking through the scented water, already feeling aroused. Opening her eyes again, she looked up at Willow, seeing the other girl’s lips slightly open, the shadow of her tongue falling against her teeth.
“I’m very sure,” she answered, the throaty purr of her voice making Willow catch her breath.
Standing up, Willow pulled her t-shirt off over her head, her fingers immediately moving round her back to unclasp her bra, revealing her pert breasts. She unbuttoned her jeans and slid them agonisingly slowly down her legs, taking off her socks at the same time. Casting a tiny smile towards Tara, she then pulled on the waistband of her underwear, moving it down over her hips, to her thighs, and then all the way down onto the floor, stepping out of it to finally stand naked by the bathtub.
Now it was Tara’s turn to admire the body of the woman she loved. She felt her teeth reach out to grasp her bottom lip as her eyes travelled languorously slowly up from Willow’s shapely ankles, to her knees, then onwards up her thighs to where the tiny patch of furious red hair sat neatly between her legs. Up, over where her stomach swelled out slightly, reaching up to where her breasts sat neatly above. Tara remembered one night when she had spent hours running her tongue over and around Willow’s nipples, pink and erect. Like they were now, she noticed, with a smirk. Running her eyes up over Willow’s collarbones, she swept up the girl’s neck to her face, where her emerald eyes sparkled, watching Tara’s appraisal of her.
Willow put one leg over the side of the tub and lowered herself in, the water rippling back towards Tara at the other end. Sliding her legs along the length of the tub, she rested them on either side of the blonde’s hips, smiling at the water that rose up over her body. Leaning back, she grimaced slightly and twisted round.
“I get the end with the taps then,” she shot a glance towards Tara, who merely smiled beatifically in response. Pulling her legs back, Willow kneeled up in the water and leant forward, lowering herself down over Tara, her body in between the other girl’s legs. The bathwater rushed out of the way of their skin as it met, stomach-to-stomach. Tara sighed and put her arms around Willow, dropping oily spots of water all the way down the redhead’s back.
“Now that’s better,” Willow murmured, her lips against Tara’s neck.
“It really is,” Tara whispered, the resonance of her voice humming against Willow’s lips. She began moving her fingers up and down Willow’s spine, tracing the vertebrae, walking her fingertips up each one until she found the base of the other girl’s neck, where she pinched slightly with finger and thumb.
Willow sighed and put her lips to Tara’s neck, kissing her softly in the little hollow she loved so much, just underneath the blonde’s ear. She slid the tip of her tongue over and into it, feeling Tara take in a breath with each teasing touch.
“I know this can’t make up for the other day, or all the days before that,” Willow said gently, her breath tickling against Tara’s ear, “But I do love you, and I want to show you.”
“I love you too,” Tara said, her voice thick with emotion and desire, blending together to make quite a heady concoction, “I love you so much, Willow.” She grasped Willow’s shoulders and pulled her up for a second, so that their lips could meet in a kiss that held all the depth of their words. Tara’s mouth opened to receive Willow’s tongue and the redhead deepened the embrace, water splashing loudly around her thighs as she leaned in closer.
When the redhead drew back, Tara dropped her head against the wall of the shower cubicle behind her and let out a ragged sigh. Willow smiled, pressing her mouth to Tara’s neck, her teeth nipping slightly at the pale skin they found there. Her hands smoothed up the blonde’s thighs under the water, feeling the bath oil ease her pathway on the skin. She dug the tips of her fingers in and scraped them all the way back down to Tara’s knees, taking great pleasure in the way that the other girl raised her hips up in response.
Lifting her head, Tara gazed at Willow hungrily, her mouth slightly parted as she felt the wave of lust rise in her stomach and race up to her chest, drumming her heart in a quicker pace. Her hands found their way onto Willow’s breasts, grasping the nipples that were already hard between finger and thumb, squeezing them gently, then increasing the pressure as Willow’s eyes flickered shut and her mouth opened to let out a groan.
Under the surface of the water, Willow’s fingers again scraped their way up Tara’s thighs, only this time they trailed a little higher, to the cleft between the blonde’s legs. Tara pushed her hips towards the redhead’s hand, moaning from the base of her throat and reaching her hands around Willow’s body to pull her in closer.
A slow smile spread across Willow’s lips as she delved her fingers inside to feel Tara’s warmth, her fingers deftly touching the other woman to hazy levels of increasing intensity. The bathwater rolled in waves down the length of the tub and back up again as they found a rhythm between them, Willow’s fingers moving ever deeper inside her lover.
Unable to prolong her desire, Tara’s fingers crept downwards and slid inside Willow, eliciting such a moan of pleasure from the redhead that the blonde felt her stomach dip and rise in response. She matched Willow caress for caress, her eyes flickering up to look at her lover’s face, head bent forwards in ecstasy as she touched and was touched.
Willow placed her hand on the rim of the tub behind Tara’s head, leaning heavily on one arm to steady herself as the sensations rolled over her. The muscles in her slight limbs tensed as she felt herself building up to a point she never wanted to come back from. She felt it in Tara too, the way the blonde was pushing herself against her hand, the way her fingers were grasping Willow’s neck, pulling her in, and gripping her tightly.
Lifting her head, Willow looked into Tara’s eyes, gazing back steadfastly at her own. Their shared pleasure bounced from one to the other, lips parted, breathing ragged and harsh in the stillness of the bathroom. The only sound that accompanied their lovemaking was the splashing of water against their bodies and the sides of the tub. Feeling her heart bask in the light of Tara’s love, Willow reached forwards and pressed her lips against the only woman she had ever loved; would ever love. And Tara kissed her back with such fervency that Willow thought her heart would burst with joy.
A moment later, or was it a second, or an hour, neither of them could tell, Tara arched her back and pressed herself hard onto Willow’s hand. At the same time, Willow felt a release begin deep inside of her, bubbling up to the surface and forcing a cry of passion from her mouth that began and ended with Tara. Held for a moment, the two basked in their desire, proclaiming their love and lust in each other’s name, before sinking back down into the waters and mingling their own essences with the lingering scents of the bath.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Some hours later, Faith banged heavily on the door to Willow and Tara’s hotel room. She’d paced all round the village, entertained Niamh with the stories of her exploits that she could actually tell, and even played soccer with some grubby kid on the village green. But she’d had enough. She was aching with curiosity to find out what had happened between her two friends, and the fist that she was banging on the door was moving with some impatience.
Drawing back from the doorway, Faith scuffed her boots against one another, looking irritably down the silent and heavy carpeted hotel corridor. She flicked her hair back over her shoulders and shoved her hands into her pockets. What the hell was taking them so long? Maybe it wasn’t a good sign, she thought, immediately worried for Willow and Tara. She didn’t want to believe that their relationship could, or would fail. No, she bit down on her bottom lip, her face setting itself in grim determination, she wouldn’t let that happen, not even if she had to slay someone. Or the whole fuckin’ world.
A sound from inside the hotel room caught her attention. Leaning forward, she frowned, trying to hear clearly through the heavy wooden door. A thud, followed by uncontrollable giggling made her expression deepen somewhat in concentration. Interesting, she thought, pushing her ear to the wood. Almost the very second her head touched the door; it opened, almost causing her to topple over. Jerking back, she regained her balance easily and surveyed the view through a very small opening in the doorway. As the dim light of the hotel room filtered through into the corridor, Faith’s eyes widened at the sight of Willow, holding what looked like a towel to her otherwise naked body. The sight of Willow, Faith realised, who had a flushed face, unkempt hair, and who seemed unable to quite catch her breath.
“Faith!” Willow said, hovering nervously by the door, most of her body hidden behind it.
“Uh…yeah,” Faith answered, a bemused grin spreading across her lips. “I just wanted to check…you know…” she faltered, holding out her hands in supplication, not really knowing what to say. “You found Tara then?” Stupid question, she kicked herself mentally, unless Red had really lost it and had some other woman in there who was laughing softly in the background.
“Um…yeah, I found her. Actually Faith,” Willow leaned in closer, grabbing the towel against her a little more firmly and lowering her voice, “we’re kinda in the middle of something so if you could…?” She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to one side.
Faith stepped back and folded her arms. “Sure. Whatever,” she nodded, still a little confused. One minute they were shouting then the next it was what, athletic sex marathon? Playing that sentence back in her head, she felt a cosy warmth spread itself up her body. Excellent. Now that was some great idea, she sniggered inwardly. “So are you two guys – “
The door closed firmly in her face.
“Nice to see you too,” she muttered, a scowl replacing the grin on her dark features. Reaching up, she banged on the door again, “I know what you’re doing in there!” she hissed loudly, immediately looking up and down the corridor again in case anyone heard her.
The door opened again, just a crack. Willow’s eyes peered out at her. “Great, so you won’t mind letting us carry on then? Thanks Faith, you’re a pal,” the redhead blurted before slamming the door shut again, the thunk of the wood in the doorframe followed by more giggling.
Sighing, Faith shook her head and stepped back from the doorway, stomping her boots heavily onto the carpet. Chicks, she thought to herself. No, worse than that, witch chicks. She made her way down the corridor away from their room, muttering all the way to the stairs. By the time she reached them, she had a huge grin plastered across her face and had started laughing softly to herself. Witch chicks, she sighed again, just the way she liked ‘em.
Part 18
There was one telephone box in the village that Faith could see; it was situated next to the village hall on the station end of the green. The village hall wasn’t much of a hall, more of a wooden cabin that sported a fancy sign and new windows, adding some resonance to the ‘Howth Community’ that the sign so proudly boasted. The light inside the booth was dim and hardly offered much illumination over the keypad and receiver. Leaning against one side of it, the Slayer fumbled in her pockets for available coins, holding them up and matching them against the pictures that were plainly printed on a piece of cardboard riveted to the rear of the booth.
Sighing, Faith realised that she wasn’t going to have enough money to call across the street, never mind anywhere else. Picking up the receiver, she held it to her ear and heard the long, low hum of activity from the line. Her eyes flicking to the helpful instructions located just above the telephone, she punched in a number and waited for it to connect.
Night was falling in silence as it had done the previous night and, Faith suspected, many more other nights besides. The village was close to deserted, holidaymakers tucked up in their beds or carousing with the locals in the pub that always seemed very noisy, on the other side of the village green. Standing alone in the twilight, Faith felt her gaze pulled up towards the castle again, watching the purple darkness slumbering over the broken walls. From the telephone booth, she had a pretty good view of the tops of the castle walls, rugged and uneven against the night sky. But all was quiet tonight. The Slayer sighed, casting a baleful glance at the telephone.
“International operator?” a cheery and crisp voice suddenly crackled out of the receiver.
Faith lifted it to her ear and spoke quietly, her voice booming around the megaphone-like quality of the telephone box, the three glass panels around her offering little to no privacy. Good job nobody was listening, she thought. “Uh, I’d like to call collect please, to the United States.”
Giving the operator the telephone number she had memorised on the plane journey over to Dublin, Faith waited until the single ring tone sounded in her ears, strangely familiar and almost comforting. The line at the other end was picked up after only two rings, the voice that answered it businesslike, turning a little confused when the operator cut in, asking if they would like to accept the charges. At first faltering, it was only when they heard who was calling that they immediately accepted.
“Faith?” the voice at the other end of the line said anxiously, once the operator had connected them.
“Hey Cor,” Faith grinned, relieved to hear the other girl’s voice again.
“Has something happened? Are Willow and Tara okay? Did you get into trouble again?” Cordelia’s quick fire questions almost made Faith laugh out loud until she realised that Cordy hadn’t actually asked her if she was all right. Her face falling, she shifted from one foot to the other, eventually leaning back on the glass panelling, putting her foot up on the one opposite.
“I’m having a wonderful time, thank you for asking,” Faith said sarcastically.
For a moment, she only heard breathing on the other end of the line, as though Cordelia was trying very hard to control her emotions. Hoping against hope it was unadulterated joy at hearing from her, Faith found that she was rudely proven wrong by Cordelia’s next outburst.
“Well really! Calling me in the middle of the…” A smug grin crossed Faith’s face as she calculated it would be just about mid afternoon over there right now, leaving Cordy with nothing to complain about with regards to time. She cradled the telephone in between her cheek and her shoulder, reaching into her jacket for her cigarettes.
“You called to tell me there’s nothing wrong?” Cordelia huffed and puffed down the telephone, her voice sharp and exact, like always. “When I heard the operator say it was you I thought…”
“Awww, you were worried about me?” Faith teased, her voice dropping to the tone she’d often used on Cordelia, eliciting a most pleasing blush in response.
“I worry about all our employees,” Cordy shot back, giving nothing away. “What’s bad for them is usually bad for business.”
“Right,” Faith nodded, pushing a cigarette into her mouth and lighting it, sucking until the end glowed red hot, then releasing a plume of smoke from the corner of her mouth.
“Faith, are you smoking?” Cordelia asked, not giving the Slayer chance to reply before continuing, “How many times have I told you it’s so bad for you, what with you being…you and all,” she finished lamely.
“Hush up Prom Queen,” Faith removed the cigarette from her mouth and sent two smoke rings curling into the air, “It’s not like I’m gonna be nominated Role Model of the Year or anything is it?” She remembered fondly the day she’d actually stubbed out a cigarette in the wake of Cordelia’s protests. Not many women could say she’d ever done that for them. Well, she mused, not any women, actually.
There was a pause, as Cordelia was obviously pursing her lips in disapproval, something she seemed to level at Faith on a daily basis. The funny thing was though, Faith really missed it. She needed someone like Cordy to keep her in line. More than ever right now.
“So why did you call, Faith?”
The Slayer took her foot down from the opposite window and turned, leaning into the phone booth as though there were hundreds of people around, all listening to her conversation. “I just wanted to…you know…check if you were okay, not missing me too much, pining away without me,” she said casually, knowing from the way she was breathing that Cordelia was smiling. It made Faith smile too, lifting her spirits a little.
“I think I’ll struggle on somehow,” Cordelia said tacitly.
“I got the girls, I figure they’ll be coming back home soon,” Faith mentioned, her mind revelling in just hearing Cordy’s voice again, as though she was so very near, not thousands of miles away. “Guess my trip to Sunnydale went pretty much south. Never thought I’d have to come here to find Willow though.”
“And how’s Ireland?” Cordelia asked, the sound of the chair she was sitting in giving a loud creak as she leaned backwards in it. Faith could almost see her now, in her mind’s eye, sitting behind the desk in that poky little office, the computer blinking in front of her.
She grinned wickedly. “Very Irish,” she answered, hearing a light sigh of exasperation from the other girl. “Some cute chick tried to hit on me today,” she added, more for the effect it would get than to actually inform.
“Oh?” the answering tone was nonchalant and carefree, although the underlying discomfort hit Faith like a ton of bricks. “Was that because you wanted her to or because she wanted to?”
“It was…” Faith began, then stopped herself, drawing deeply on the cigarette. Nobody played the game better, she reminded herself, and so she was bound to lose out to herself sometime. She blew out a cloud of blue smoke and leant even further into the telephone booth, her voice throaty and deep in reply. “I guess it was me that started it, but Cordelia, nothing happened. Honestly. I didn’t want to…” Faith frowned, turning round and flicking her cigarette out of the booth, watching it soar upwards in an arc before landing in a flash of sparks on the grass beyond. “I kinda miss you,” she finished slowly, feeling very stupid and vulnerable all at once.
Silence.
“I miss you too, Faith.”
The Slayer’s face broke into a grin as she assumed her previous position with her foot up against the glass panel, shoulders pushed onto the cold glass behind her. “Yeah? Well maybe I’ll have to bring you back a souvenir then; something Irish. A leprechaun? I saw some at the airport that dance and sing, it’s kinda cool, their head moves and – “
“Just bring yourself back, Faith,” Cordelia’s voice was soft and pleading, striking just the right note in the Slayer’s tough exterior to reduce her to mush somewhere inside. She’d given up fighting against it, Faith realised with a grim smile. And she was sure that Cordelia knew that too.
Faith wasn’t sure what to say, couldn’t say what she wanted to. It was as though the feeling was there, so strongly, but the words failed to appear in her head. She opened her mouth, and then shut it again, hating her own inability to express what she truly felt. Her heart leapt into her throat, dangerously pulsing in her ears as she swallowed hard and licked her lips nervously.
“Uh…Cor…” she began, but was cut off by the sound of footsteps on the office floor at the other end of the line and a muffled voice that sounded like Wesley.
“Faith,” Cordelia’s voice came through, loud and urgent, “I have to go, something’s come up. I’ll…I’ll see you when you get back, okay?”
“Sure,” Faith mumbled, hearing a click and then static as the connection was ended. She held the receiver in her hand for a few seconds, before thunking it firmly back down onto its holder, her hand spread out over the black plastic shape. Biting her lip, the Slayer turned, shoving her hands into her pockets and left the telephone booth, walking into the darkness back to her own hotel.
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The next morning, Willow was already up and dressed by the time Tara raised her head from the pillow. It felt like she hadn’t slept in years, or had been asleep forever. Either way, the blonde thought, there was something different about this morning. She rubbed at her eyes sleepily in the sun that streamed through the window and watched the redhead bustling around the room, gathering together stray pieces of clothing that were strewn all over. Last night had been odd, Tara thought, sitting up in bed and leaning onto one elbow. Not bad odd, just…well, good odd, she guessed. Shaking her hair back over her shoulder, she half smiled to herself at the heady scent of jasmine and gardenia that still hung sweetly in the air. Amongst the more musky scent of other things, she blushed retrospectively.
It had seemed that when she and Willow made love, the barriers between them fell away. Certainly last night had been a heady mixture of talking; sharing, emotions and passionate loving that had lasted long into the early hours. Willow had lain in her arms and sobbed; she had lain in Willow’s and sobbed, too. All their fears, hitherto hidden under a veil of suspicion and doubt, had been revealed, just like in the old days. Tara bit her lip and watched as Willow bent over her bed, reaching for something. As her eyes trailed over the slight figure of the redhead and the simple attire she wore, just jeans and a t-shirt, she was struck by the depth of her love for the other woman. Willow’s candour last night had manifested itself in a total acknowledgement of her own guilt and shame; carrying both around with her like heavy weights. As they had fallen asleep in Tara’s bed, wrapped around one another, it seemed like they couldn’t tell where one girl ended and the other began. Coming so close to losing one another had jerked them into the painful present, a realisation that their need for the other was based in something far more innate than just attraction.
Last night they had talked; really talked. And listened too. Tara had revelled not only in the physical closeness, but in the way her soul seemed to take flight in the midst of the darkness, floating on the relief and knowledge that she was loved. And could love. And was allowed to love. Finding that knowledge, some sense of peace had settled over her, caressing her mind and heart in the same way that Willow’s fingers had trailed down her body, seeking out a path that was lined with beauty and love.
She knew that things couldn’t be solved overnight, of course they couldn’t. But there was a certain lightness to the air between them and around them. She had laughingly wondered out loud to Willow what it was, and the redhead had pulled her closer, kissed her gently on the lips and breathed a single word down at her. Magick. All over them, draping them with its glistening quality and pouring through their senses like the freshness of summer rain. Magick, Tara breathed to herself, watching Willow straighten up, looking down at something in her hands. Yes, that was it; magick.
Turning, the redhead approached Tara in the bed and sat down on the edge, a smile curving the lips that had only last night pledged themselves to her in a whirlwind of passion and desperate desire.
“Hey sleepyhead,” Willow reached out and gently stroked her finger down Tara’s cheek.
“Now I know we didn’t get much sleep last night, so why are you so bright and chirpy?” Tara couldn’t help the grumbling tone that coloured her voice. She had never been the world’s best morning person. And on as little sleep as they’d had last night, talking wasn’t really her first choice right now.
Willow grinned, holding up the object in her hand and swinging it in front of Tara’s eyes. At first glance it seemed like a necklace, a simple leather thong with a pendant at the bottom. But when she squinted at it and looked closer, Tara found her breath catching in her throat. The pendant was a carefully shaped piece of amber, smoothed into a teardrop. Its surface was clouded, like the sky on a stormy day. But, as the blonde watched, the wispy clouds scudded aside, revealing a glowing red light deep inside the stone, increasing in intensity the more she focused on it. As the light grew stronger, Tara felt a wave of feeling wash over her and jerked her head back, her eyes blinking lazily in the wake of the emotion.
“What…what is it?” she breathed, her gaze meeting Willow’s serious green.
The redhead smiled almost self-consciously and shrugged a little. “It’s a charm I made for you. I did it last night when you were asleep.” She moved it closer to the blonde, the fire inside the stone bathing Tara in warmth. Willow’s eyes flickered over Tara’s naked shoulders and she reached behind the girl’s neck, clasping the thong around it. Her fingers trailed tingling paths back over Tara’s skin as she drew back, surveying the girl’s reaction like a curious cat, her green eyes narrowing.
Tara felt the stone against her throat and swallowed, letting the sensations curve sensuously down her body, like the tantalising caresses of many moments with Willow. “What kind of a charm is it?” she gasped, her blue eyes wide open in wonder.
“It’s something to remind you,” Willow said gently, her gaze flickering downwards to where her hands lay on the blanket. “It encapsulates the feelings from last night. I put a little magick together with the jasmine and gardenia bath oil and uh…” her smile widened self consciously and her eyes hid under heavy lids as she recalled their lovemaking, “…other stuff too.” The redhead remembered how she had only been able to cast the spell on the stone in the aftermath of a perfect union. Breathless with desire, she had emptied all of her passion and feelings that Tara inspired in her into the stone, repeating the incantation with trembling lips.
“It’s beautiful,” Tara said, reaching out with her hand to touch Willow’s, holding the other girl’s fingers tightly. “Thank you.” The swell of emotion washed over her again, reminding her of the ceaseless tide on the shoreline and she closed her eyes momentarily, letting it take her away. “So why do I feel…?” she couldn’t even express how it made her feel, shaking her head wordlessly.
“That’s the magick,” Willow said softly, “Every time you think of me, you’ll know that I love you. The charm helps you remember the feeling, because that’s how I feel too. It only works for true love.” Leaning forward, she placed a light and tender kiss on the blonde’s lips. “I always want you to know how much I love you, Tara. Always. And I’ll never stop.”
The charm glowed one last time against Tara’s skin, flooding her with love and wonder, before the clouds on the surface of the stone scurried together again, hiding the fiery centre from view. But vestiges of the feeling remained, like a memory, always there; ready to be viewed whenever she wanted it. Reaching up, Tara pulled Willow to her and pressed her lips against the redhead’s, deepening the kiss as Willow’s arms whispered their way up her own.
A low growl interrupted them, and Willow pulled away, grinning. She looked down at her stomach; patting it gently, then back up at Tara’s amused expression. “Hungry,” she explained. “I’m gonna go down for some breakfast. Come join me when you’re ready, okay?”
Tara nodded, her fingers moving instinctively to touch the stone, smiling as it shivered the feeling through her body once more. She watched as Willow pulled on her sneakers and grabbed her jacket from her bed.
“I love you Willow,” she said, her voice soft and almost incredulous at the fact that she really did.
Flashing her a bright smile from the doorway, Willow pushed at her hair that was flopping over her eyes. “Me too.”
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By the time Tara reached the table in the breakfast room, Willow was already polishing off a plate of toast, smearing it thickly with butter and then again with strawberry conserve. Tara sat down opposite her lover, thinking that she’d never seen anything quite like Irish breakfasts. Most people made do with cereal or a cup of coffee or, she remembered wincing, the previous night’s pizza. But in Ireland, breakfast wasn’t just the most important meal of the day, it was a culinary experience. The table at the far end of the room literally groaned with food, piled high with cooked meats, cold meats, cheese and about five different types of bread. Tara had discovered a liking for the roughened soda bread that was an Irish speciality, and she had wolfed down several huge slices the previous morning.
She was extra hungry this morning though, she grinned, eyeing the wide slices of soda bread with interest. Maybe that was the effect sex had on people; although one of the things she loved about Willow was that the other girl encouraged her to eat well, and often. Willow wasn’t one of those girls who bitched over food; she simply tucked in and ate whatever she wanted to. Casting an appreciative eye over the slim figure opposite her, Tara figured that Willow probably burned off most of her calories in nervous energy alone.
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, occasionally catching one another’s eye and smiling happily. Although, Tara noted, Willow looked more than a little smug, a secretive grin curving her lips every time she looked across at Tara.
“What?” Tara enquired, leaning forward to pour herself a cup of hot steaming tea. “What are you thinking about?”
The redhead smiled, licking a few stray crumbs of toast from her lips and lowered her head, looking at Tara from underneath her lashes, almost coyly. “Last night,” she murmured.
A flush spread along the line of Tara’s neck, reaching up to her cheeks and colouring them with pleasure. She wasn’t one of those people who believed that sex could solve everything; indeed, sex and sexuality had never been one of her strong points. It had always been something other people did, never herself. But with Willow, sex was never just sex. She sighed inwardly; that was why the other day had upset her so much. It was always something different for them, always had been, from the very first time. And last night they had both needed that, the difference. Not just a physical union but a spiritual one too, bringing both of them back to the heart they truly desired.
She had never been able to be tactile with anyone in her family, she thought wistfully. Her father had never hugged her and meant it, and her brother…she shuddered, trying not to remember but unable to help the images that flickered through her mind. Her brother had never understood sibling affection very well. The only people she had ever felt tenderness with had been her mother and her grandmother. And when they died, she had ached for the sensation of another human being to touch her with love and respect.
Turning her thoughts back to Willow, she felt the amber against her throat bathe her in the sunshine of the redhead’s love. She would never doubt her again, or their commitment to one another, that was for sure.
“Hi you two!” Niamh appeared at their table, a picture of brightness and energy. She jogged up and down as she put another rack of toast in front of the two girls and looked from smiling face to smiling face, wondering what had made them so happy all of a sudden.
“Morning Niamh,” Willow cast a little roll of her eyes over to Tara, who tried to stifle her giggle in response, and looked up at the Irish girl, all eagerness once more.
“My dad’s taking the boat out today, if you’re interested,” Niamh said, wiping her hands on the cloth she carried over her shoulder. She looked round the room then leant towards the two witches conspiratorially, “He said he’d give you two special rates, seeing as you’re my friends.” Her sky blue eyes widened in anticipation as Willow and Tara communicated silently with one another.
“That sounds nice,” Willow said finally, eliciting a sigh of relief from the Irish girl. “If the weather’s going to hold out, I mean, sure,” she shrugged. She had been pleased to notice the early morning sun shining through the window when she pulled the curtains aside. The view of the bay had held her attention for a couple of long moments, the wave tops glistening as though they held diamonds in their midst. So peaceful, she had thought, her gaze taking in the impressive sweep of the bay beyond, leading her eyes to the shrouded humps of the Wicklow Hills, past Ireland’s Eye. When she had risen to make the charm for Tara, it had been so early that barely anything stirred in Howth, apart from a few active seagulls, fighting over scraps of food on the village green, their occasional quarrelling barks echoing around the grassy area. Willow had simply basked in the peace of it all, how simple life was here, how precious that simplicity was.
“I’ll tell dad then. Do you think Faith might want to go too?” Niamh’s voice brought Willow back to the present, and she turned her eyes up to the young girl, shrugging in response.
“I don’t know Niamh, probably. She’s coming here after breakfast so we’ll ask her then,” the redhead replied, wondering not for the first time exactly what Niamh’s interest in Faith was. She knew only too well that Faith didn’t feel ‘that way’ about Niamh, but, she sighed to herself, Faith being Faith…nothing was a sure bet with her. Unless it concerned Buffy, she told herself. She had never seen the dark Slayer so distraught as she had been the previous afternoon. That, if anything, convinced her that anyone could change if they just allowed love to touch them, even once.
Her eyes deepened in colour and she swung them back to focus on Tara. Her love. Her true love. Making the charm had been a bit of a risk at first, she thought, her gaze glancing down to where it nestled in the hollow at the base of Tara’s throat. It wasn’t that she doubted how she felt about Tara, it was just that with everything that had happened, Willow had worried that the other girl might be holding something back, fear preventing her from giving herself wholly to the emotion they shared. The moment she had finished the incantation, a yellow wisp of smoke had risen from the ingredients she had so carefully prepared and mixed together. Yellow for true love, she had thought, at once gratified and awed by just how powerful a feeling it was.
Tara’s eyes met Willow’s over the table. She felt it too. The blonde reached up and touched her fingertips to the amber once more, a beatific smile painting her face with such beauty that Willow’s heart clenched with love.
“Oooh that’s pretty,” Niamh leant forward, her eyes drawn to the charm around Tara’s neck. She looked carefully at it, her untrained gaze seeing only a rather attractive coloured stone. Yeah, Willow nodded; the magick was for her and Tara only. And that was the way she liked it. “What is it?” Niamh asked.
“Um, it’s amber,” Tara replied, blinking herself back from the love spreading warmly over her chest. “It’s like a…a lucky charm.”
Niamh sat back on her heels and grinned. “Lucky charm? That’s grand,” she breathed. “I bet everyone who sees it wants one.” She opened her mouth to say more, then closed it tight again as her name came loudly from the kitchen to the back of the room. Her face fell, and she cast a baleful glance towards the swinging door leading into the cooking area. “I’ll see you later then,” she told both girls, whether they wanted to see her or not, it was set down already.
As Niamh retreated to the kitchen, Willow grinned wickedly and leant over the table, lowering her voice. “She’s after your lucky charm!” she whispered, doing a fair imitation of Niamh’s accent, giggling at her reference to the leprechaun made famous by breakfast cereal.
Tara sniggered and held a hand to her mouth, her eyes crinkling in merriment. “Well, it is kind of magically delicious,” she tittered, resulting in Willow almost choking on her toast.
The redhead swallowed several times and reached over the table, grabbing Tara’s hand in her own and fighting to regain her breath. Finally, she shook her head and smiled gently. “Just like you then,” she said, squeezing her fingers against Tara’s.
Part 19
The prow of the boat rose up majestically from the white foam that was grabbing at the shape cutting through the waves, before crashing down into the water again. The rhythmic splattering of droplets of water, combined with the rough caress of waves against the boat created a bizarre symphony of sound that serenaded the passengers on the leisure trip round the bay of Howth.
Mr Kelly stood impassively at the helm, guiding the boat around the harbour and into the open sea past the stone jetty, his rugged face set in grim concentration. He did this day in, day out, weather permitting. It never ceased to surprise him how much pleasure visitors got from a simple boat trip around the island and back to the harbour again. Perhaps it was the sting of the salt air, or the fresh kiss of spray on their faces; he wasn’t quite sure. But he usually managed to gain some kind of fulfilment from sharing his love of the seaside town and the waters around it with them.
Today was a quiet day though, with only about six or seven passengers on his boat. Three of them were the girls Niamh had befriended; he looked down the boat to where Willow, Tara and Faith sat on a low bench at the prow, leaning back on the rim of the boat, their eyes trying to take in all the scenery at once and failing. The other people, his eyes flickered across to the three rows of benches further back in the boat; they consisted of some older couples who had come here in their youth and were trying to recapture some of that magic. They were middle aged and kept up a constant trip down memory lane; one of the reasons why the three young girls had decidedly moved themselves away.
Niamh was pottering around down in the galley that was really a glorified store cupboard, making huge mugs of steaming tea for the tourists. Mr Kelly had already commissioned his own refreshments; his wife never let him leave the hotel without giving him a huge stack of roughly hewn sandwiches and a gigantic flash of tea. Only his tea, he allowed himself a smile, had a touch of the Irish in it, with a good dose of Black Bush.
Appearing from the galley, Niamh carried a tray of tea over to the older guests first of all, her feet moving deftly and easily across the rocking floor of the boat. She was used to the motion, whilst the three Americans were still finding their sea legs. By the time she brought them their mugs of tea, Faith was looking a little green around the gills and waved the offer of a drink away with a hand that trembled slightly.
Sitting down beside them, Niamh watched in gratification as Willow and Tara sipped at the hot liquid, warming them inside as the sea breeze turned colder the further they moved away from the harbour. Ruffling the dark Slayer’s hair with abandon, Faith was tempted to tie her hair back from the wind’s careless touch, like Tara had done, into a neat ponytail. But she reached up instead, pushing it away from her face for what seemed like the hundredth time since they had left the shore.
“See the island,” Niamh pointed, her voice rising above the sound of the boat’s chugging engine and the sea it was cutting through. The girls followed her finger, their eyes roaming liberally over the green hump rising in an ungainly manner from the ocean. “It used to be a monastic island,” the girl continued. “The ruins of the monastery are still there. But nobody goes there now, it’s a protected bird sanctuary, so it’s off limits.” She gulped down a mouthful of tea and eyed Faith carefully, “I always wanted to take a boat out there though, I think it would be kind of exciting.”
Faith glanced back at the girl; cheeks reddened by the sea wind, hair carefully tied in a plait down her back, and couldn’t help smiling. She sometimes wished that she got a kick out of something that innocent. It must be kinda nice, she thought, not knowing what’s out there. Not seeing the demons behind every corner, just waiting to pounce and beat the crap outa you. Still, she reasoned, someone had to do what she did every day. Someone had to protect the innocence that Niamh took for granted. She figured that it might as well be her. One girl in all the world…she sighed. Used to be two. Used to be.
As the boat rounded the far side of the island, all three girls felt their eyes drawn to an old wooden jetty, half submerged, which stretched out across sharpened rocks and jagged edges that encircled the whole island. Beyond that, an overgrown pathway led up into the hills that shaded the place. Willow squinted, holding her hand up against the sun to see better, just catching a glimpse of a moss covered wall before it was hidden from sight again.
“Why would anyone want to live there all alone?” she wondered out loud.
Niamh shrugged, “They had each other, you know, all the monks,” she answered.
“That’s not living though, hiding away like that,” Willow’s tone was almost sorrowful as Tara turned to look at her, giving her girlfriend a sympathetic smile.
Faith pushed back her hair again, the ends whipping around her face. “Some people just can’t deal, I guess,” she offered by means of comfort. Tara smiled across at her and Faith winked back, grinning. “Wouldn’t suit you anyway Red,” she added, “no fashion sense, these monks ya know.”
Willow’s eyes turned to look at the Slayer and narrowed in a grin as she broke out of her reverie, leaning back against the firm and warm body of her girlfriend. Tara put her arm casually across Willow’s shoulder, conscious of the other tourists nearby, and Mr Kelly’s gimlet gaze from the rear of the boat. Leaning forward, she bent her lips close to Willow’s ear and whispered, “You’re not alone love, not as long as I’m anywhere in this world.”
The redhead closed her eyes happily in response and let the sunlight dance beams of warmth across her face, inhaling the salty air deep into her lungs. Unseen to the other people in the boat, Tara’s fingers crept into the hair at the back of her neck, caressing the skin there softly and tenderly. A sigh crept out of Willow’s mouth, lost to the sea breeze, but shivering itself into the stone that Tara wore round her neck.
“And the waters round here,” Niamh gestured with an expansive sweep of her hand, drawing three sets of eyes to her face once more, “this is where Grace O’Malley used to anchor.” She waited a second for the name of the pirate queen to register with the girls. “Legend says that from our hotel,” she beamed proudly, “you could see her ship at sea here, looking over the harbour.”
Faith, Willow and Tara all let their gaze sweep the waters that Niamh had shown them, trying to imagine the sight of Grace O’Malley’s ship at sea. The Irish girl stood, gathering up mugs from them, then moved off to collect the rest of the crockery from the other tourists.
Bringing her gaze back inside the boat, Faith swallowed hard, her throat feeling watery. Who’d have thought she could ever suffer from seasickness, she wondered, almost amused by her human frailty in the sight of Slayer strength. Leaning her elbows onto her knees, she cocked her head onto one side and looked across at Willow and Tara, now turning to gaze back at her.
“So, about this ghost…” she began.
Willow pressed her lips together. “I guess it all comes down to what she wants,” she said. They had promised on the harbour to discuss Grace O’Malley at some point today, and being reminded of her by Niamh had seemed like the perfect opportunity.
“I read in the tourist guide that she usually appears by the light of the moon,” Tara added, then frowned, dropping her gaze. “Or she’s supposed to anyway,” she added. “I’m still not convinced that she’s evil though. I mean, maybe she just comes back to a place that she’s familiar with, some spirits do.”
Faith took a breath, her shoulders rising with the inhalation. “I dunno Tara, she looked pretty mean when I saw her that night.”
“Faith’s right,” Willow said decisively, putting her hand on Tara’s knee for a second, “We need to find out what she’s here for.”
Tara’s eyes had drifted back out to sea again and were roaming the wave tops, where the occasional seagull drifted, bobbing up and down with the motion of the water. Suddenly she froze and her eyes fixed on a spot some twenty yards from the boat. Her fingers grabbed Willow’s arm, digging in so deeply that the redhead looked up at her in surprise and not a little pain. Following Tara’s eyes, she blinked once, startled, then her green gaze widened as though in disbelief.
“You see it?” Tara said, her voice awed to a low hush.
“Oh god yes,” Willow breathed.
“Huh?” Faith frowned, glowering at the two witches. She followed their gazes and saw the ocean. Same as it had been just seconds ago. Just rippled grey sea.
“Faith, look,” Willow said in a low voice, “Just look, really carefully.”
Narrowing her eyes to veritable slits in her face, Faith looked beyond the edge of the boat, to the spot that had Willow and Tara transfixed. Summoning up all of her Slayer concentration, she allowed her mind to bring the ocean into focus in her head, letting it fill her senses with stormy restlessness. She allowed it to go out of focus, looking beyond the physical, to the metaphysical plane. Angel had often sat with her for hours, getting her to stare at objects so that she could see, not only their shape and texture in this world, but also their energy in another plane. She had always been impatient with him, and with the exercise. But now, with the roar of the boat and the sea ringing in her ears, she found that her mind was reaching out…stretching past the boundaries of what she perceived in this life, to what she could see in the next.
Like a mirage, as she stared at the sea, a shimmering covered the surface of the water. Her breathing began to slow down, as the Slayer part of her took over, bringing into focus what was presently only a dreamlike shape in her line of vision. Giving herself over to it, Faith relaxed slightly and felt the edges of her mind flow around the shape, giving it form and substance. And then it became clear.
A huge ship, gracefully floating on the water, was a mere arm’s reach away. Seemingly close enough for the three girls to reach out and touch it. Faith let her eyes roam up and down the shape of it, before she began to pick out details that were shining clearly in the sunlight.
At the prow, a figurehead reached out over the ocean; a mermaid with arms outstretched and hair of the deepest green. Her face was set into a determined expression, one that told of far off lands and other treasures. Behind her, the boat swept down, its shape swelling out pregnant over the ocean. Three huge masts rose from the centre of the boat, trunks of such magnitude that it seemed as though three trees sprouted from the wood of the boat itself. Rigging adorned them like restraints, clasping them to the fabric of the ship. But the most wonderful sight, the one that made Faith catch her breath, was that of the sails. Vast expanses of whiteness billowed in the sea air, catching every breath of wind in the concave fluttering that the girls could hear from their vantage point. Stretched hard against the wind, the sails ached to move the ship from its position, to take it further away from land, out to the open sea where it surely belonged.
But the ship was abandoned. Not a movement, no sign of life caught their eye as they followed the line of the boat from prow to stern. It waited, almost like a predator, as it had done for hundreds of years. And would continue to do so for many more years.
As Faith’s eyes began to water with staring so hard, the shimmering that had brought the ship into focus fell over the vision with such brightness that she blinked it away. When she opened her eyes again, the sight of the ship had vanished, leaving only the shining tops of the waves to taunt her with their secret.
Bringing her gaze back to Willow and Tara, Faith realised that all three of them had seen it. The two witches looked at her, mouths open in bewilderment and not a little fear. The Slayer glanced between the two of them, taking a deep breath.
“Oh shit,” she said.
Part 20
Faith looked out of the window of Willow and Tara’s hotel room, her eyes hardening as she surveyed the bay outside. She knew where the ship should be, hell, she felt where it should be, but she could see nothing. Pressing her nose against the cool windowpane, she frowned, her eyes colouring to deep brown. She guessed it was hidden from mortal eyes. Or at least, mortals who didn’t understand magick, she added, turning finally to flop down onto Tara’s bed. The springs underneath her squeaked slightly as she stretched out on it, her feet dangling over the edge.
Struggling ou