“Hypocrite! A monumental bloody hypocrite, that’s what you are, Rupert Giles!”
The Watcher sat deep in thought as the plane sped eastwards across the Atlantic. Next to him, Willow was also absorbed in troubled reflections. They’d run out of conversation somewhere over the Eastern Seaboard.
Giles was accompanying Willow to England to face justice before the Oakhampton Coven, the powerful band of Wicca that had alerted him to her near-apocalyptic turn to darkness a month previously. No regular court was competent to deal with Willow’s case so she would be tried by a jury of her peers for Warren’s murder and her abuse of dark magic.
Actions must have consequences. Crimes cannot go unpunished. Willow had accepted that she must face up to what she had done and pay whatever price was deemed appropriate.
Unlike Giles.
None of them knew that he’d killed Ben. He’d never told them, and in the trauma of Buffy’s death, they’d never thought to wonder how it had ended. Dawn was alive, Buffy was dead. Glory was gone, and the world hadn’t ended. It was The Night Buffy Died. Or, perhaps, When Buffy Killed Glory. Giles’ role remained his secret. Whether he kept it to protect them, or himself, or just to keep things simple, Giles didn’t know. It didn’t greatly trouble him. Usually. He was a pragmatist. He’d done what he had to. He would do the same again in the same circumstances. Ben’s face, eyes bulging, his last stifled attempts to scream, had never once invaded Giles’ sleep. Just now though, the irony of it all weighed heavily upon him. A murderer escorting another murderer to face a reckoning to which he himself would never submit.
“Giles?”
“Willow?” He started from his reverie and turned to face the redhead, giving her his full attention. “What is it?”
“Er, I need to get out.”
“Oh, yes of course.” Giles got out of his seat to let her past. She went to the back of the plane into the toilet, and locked the door behind her. She sat down, face in hands, as hard, silent sobs shook her body. She fought back the urge to vomit..
Was this how it was for Angel, she wondered? This awful, gut-wrenching, guilt, every minute of every day? For the past hundred years or so? Guilt, over what she’d done to Warren, to Rack - the fact that she was a murderer. Nearly destroying the world oddly didn’t seem so bad. Worse, what she’d tried to do to her friends, the things she’d said, the things she’d felt! Where had that come from, that rage, that hate? Grief at what had happened to Tara, sure, but this went way beyond that. Was that who she’d been all along, the real Willow, just waiting for the right opportunity to come to the surface? Was that who she still was? Was the remorse, this determination to face justice, just another show, to make her friends accept and forgive her? Was that all she was, a petty, jealous, angry, insecure, pathetic little girl putting on a nice smile and..
Stop it, Willow.
She’d been round this loop way too many times. She thought of Xander. She pictured his face, his smile, his voice, his laugh. Wonderful Xander. He was all that had kept her going, pulled her back from the depths of despair again and again, just the thought of him, like now. He could bring her back to herself, allow her to believe that there might be light at the end of the tunnel. Buffy and Giles had been wonderful, she could scarcely understand how they forgave her so easily. She loved them dearly - but it was Xander who kept her alive.
Her feelings for Xander no longer had a romantic aspect, the childhood crush she’d had for too many years. After Tara’s death, she wasn’t going anywhere near romance for a good long time. In truth, she could barely think about Tara, it hurt too much. Her grief and loss were too mixed up with the sense of shame at how she had responded to Tara’s death, of how Tara would look upon the revenge Willow had taken in her name. She had not even been able to attend the funeral - Tara’s birth family had reclaimed the body while Willow had lain feverish in bed with the backwash of the monumental sorceries she had wrought.
‘Guess I’d better get back to my seat, or they’ll be sending search parties’, she said to herself. She washed her face before leaving, and slipped absently past Giles.
***
Xander sighed, and flicked the remote, switching off the TV. Mind-numbing rubbish. Why did he watch that stuff? He was bored. Willow and Giles had flown off to England, Buffy had taken Dawn on a road trip, Anya hadn’t quite got back to the speaking to him stage and the vamps were quiet He’d have even quite liked to have Spike around - ‘Merciful Zeus, did I really just think that?’ Someone to trade insults with at least. Why is there never a Cordelia Chase around when you need one?
The flat, seemed empty. Willow had moved in last month after … what happened. Her abuse of dark magick had caused severe damage to her system. She collapsed soon after pulling back from her apocalypse attempt, and had been dangerously ill for over a week. She had a heavy fever, and drifted in and out of consciousness. She was delirious at times, frequently crying out. How much it was magical comedown, how much was guilt at what she’d done, Xander didn’t know, and nor did people more likely to know things, like Giles.
Willow had gradually recovered her strength and coherence, and when she had done so she had been quick to insist that she should give herself up to the police. Buffy wouldn’t hear of it.
“Willow, I can’t let that happen. I can’t let them put you in jail for the rest of your life, maybe worse… I can’t lose you. Not again. What you did was wrong, you know that, we all do. But you weren’t in control - you were addicted to magic, and there’s no way a court could understand that”, she’d said.
“Buffy, I don’t want to go to jail any more than you want me to - but I can’t just go on as if nothing had happened - I can’t just get away with murder. Besides it’s not that…”
“Willow, it’s very courageous of you to want to give yourself up,” Giles interrupted, “but Buffy has a point. You were under the influence of very powerful forces and - “
“That’s not an excuse!”
“I’m not saying it is, but it’s a factor. A court of law must always consider every mitigating factor. I’m afraid the normal legal system just isn’t competent to try a case such as yours. And besides, what would you actually tell them? There’s no body, and they’ll hardly believe that you killed Warren and disposed of the body without so much as a trace, on your own. Awkward questions would be asked, and who knows where that would lead.”
“I know exactly where it would lead,” said Xander. “Me and Buffy reported what happened to the police. Warren shot Buffy. She’s got a bit of a history with Sunnydale’s finest, and so if they know Willow killed him, they won’t exactly have far to look for an accomplice. We were even there when it happened. I don’t like to say this Willow, but there’s a two and two adding up far too close to five for my liking if we go down that road.”
Willow looked deflated. “God, I’m not gonna do anything that could get you guys in trouble, I mean I’ve done plenty of that already, but are you saying I should just - and I mean, Warren must have a family, they still think he’s a fugitive - don’t they deserve to know…?”
“Yes, well maybe you should have thought of that before you killed him.” snapped Giles. “I’m sorry. Look, this isn’t, rather superfluous to say, an ideal situation. But there is an alternative…”
That was when Giles had outlined his suggestion that she could face trial by the Coven, which she’d readily agreed to. That evening, back at the flat, Willow had turned to Xander and said:
“Buffy’s been so good this past week or so - but she talks as if she thinks it wasn’t really me back there. Like I kinda lost my soul and turned into Wilgelus, and now I’ve got my soul back and I’m Willow again. But it’s not like that. It was me back then. It’s still me, or, I’m still me, if you know what I mean. That’s what’s so hard.”
Xander had just said, “I know, Willow, I know,” and held her.
The Coven had agreed to Giles’ suggestion, and had set the Midsummer Solstice for the hearing. The past few weeks had been spent preparing. Xander had emailed his account of everything that had happened, and answered a lot of questions. He wasn’t entirely happy about the whole thing. Sure, they sounded like good people and they’d helped save Willow with whatever “essence of magic” thing they’d planted in her through Giles - but they were powerful, and an unknown quantity, and this was not exactly a regular trial with all the usual rules. More like a sort of court martial, he thought, and that wasn’t the most comforting of thoughts.
He turned the TV back on.
***
“Well, I suppose I should say welcome to England Willow, though I wish it were under rather happier circumstances.”
“Maybe sometime you can give me the proper tour.” She paused. “That is, when I get out. If I get out.”
They talked quietly as they made their way through arrivals at Heathrow. It was already evening in Britain, and they would be going straight to Giles’ flat in Bath that night before continuing to the Wiccans’ community house in Okehampton for the hearing the following day.
“I don’t know that they’re going to put you in anything, Willow. The-their philosophy is more one of … er … restorative rather than retributive justice. That is to say, …”
“Making amends.”
“Er, yes, more or less.”
“Good! ‘Cause I’m right with the making amends. I’m all amendy.” She paused. “So, like they don’t have the death penalty or anything…?”. Funnily enough she’d never thought to ask that before. She’d been so much caught up with the idea of facing judgement, the witches’ judgement on her, on who or what she was, that she hadn’t given much thought to the actual consequences.
“No, of course not, Willow. I…I mean even if they would wish to, which I am sure they wouldn’t, they are still subject to the laws of the land. Applying the death penalty would make them…”
“Murderers.”
Giles and Willow looked at each other for a moment and fell silent.
***
The skies boiled. Strange, bright, mystical energies flashed above. Cracks opened in the heavens, revealing a bright orange glow.
“She could never kill a human being. She’s a real hero. She’s not like us.”
“Us?”
“Like you and me.”
Giles bent down, knelt on Ben’s chest and placed his hand over his nose and mouth and pressed hard. He watched Ben’s eyes popping, his face changing colour, felt his stifled attempts to scream…
“Hey Giles! I’m going to the fairground! Can you come with me?”
Buffy was wearing a long white dress. Her face was radiant.
“I-I’ll be with you in a minute, Buffy. Once I’ve finished killing Ben for you.”
She pouted.
“Hardly setting an example, Ripper old boy!”
Spike was holding Buffy’s hand. He was dressed in a bright pin-striped suit. Giles dimly heard a scream.
“I’ll be needing a good strong father figure, what with the shoes just back from the repair shop n’all,” Spike continued.
Giles stuttered, searching for an answer. The scream, though stifled, was getting louder, or at least more piercing. It was a high pitched female voice. He looked around, then realised it was from below him. He looked down. He beheld Willow’s purple, lifeless features etched in terror beneath his hand.
He awoke with a start and a cry, and sat up in bed, breathing heavily. He was covered in sweat. A dream. It was just a dream. He got up, turned on the light and walked round his flat, trying to dispel the horror from his mind, but it seemed as though the nightmare had lodged itself deep in his gut. He went to the kitchen, and took a glass of water, then switched the kettle on.
He thought better of this, switched off the kettle and poured himself a generous dram from the bottle of malt whisky in his drinks cabinet. As he sat and sipped the fiery liquid, his calm returned as the disturbing images from his dream slipped gradually back into his subconscious.
Now what on earth was that thing about Spike’s shoes? Where did that come from?
"Hail Sunna, breaker of dawn's might! We stand upon ceremony beseeching thee: Banish the darkness in this Golden Hour..."
Willow joined in the words of greeting as the first rays of the sun shed their light over the horizon, heralding the dawn of the solstice. As the sun’s warmth began to lift the chill of the night, Willow felt indeed like this was a new dawn for her. Sure, she was still nervous at what was to come - nervous as hell - but she also felt hope. This was her chance to truly face up to what she'd done, to face up to herself. There would be a price to pay, she knew, but she felt ready to face it.
Her fellow Witches had received her with grace and kindness, and had invited her to participate in this dawn ceremony before the hearing began. This had done much to alleviate her fears and inner turmoil. The lush, hilly landscape of the southwest of England had also re-awakened in her a sense of wonder, helping her to get outside her own head a bit. The scenery was beautiful of course, but Willow also felt a sense of ancient mystery - she could sense the power flowing through the land - the land where perhaps King Arthur had once ruled, and Merlin worked his Craft. Or maybe that was just her romanticised image of a new and far-off country. Whatever, it lifted her spirits, and helped put her in the right frame of mind for the day.
The current scene was not so romantic - no wooded grove, but a barren, worn hilltop surrounded by miles of rough, sparse, moorland - gorse, heather and peat bogs, with only the occasional tree. She had been warned that powerful magicks may be involved in the day's proceedings, and they needed to be as far from 'civilisation' as possible. That was of course a cause for concern, but she trusted these people. Just so long as she wasn't working any of the magic.
She turned her mind back to the dawn ritual.
***
Giles shuffled absently through the heather, a few hundred yards down from where the Witches were celebrating their Midsummer, atop Cut Hill. (Not the highest point on Dartmoor by some margin, but it had the virtue of being in the middle of nowhere. The nearest village was some four miles hence, ironically enough called Willsworthy. Hopefully a good omen.)
He had no problem with this act of Pagan worship, but it was not something of which he could feel himself a part. He was not exactly irreligious, rather he saw himself as a pragmatist in that area. What worked, he would use. Wiccan rituals and magic carried enormous power, and indeed he’d just a month ago used them to help save the world. But the whole God & Goddess, universal energy thing, he wasn’t greatly bothered with. Equally, he knew that there was nothing so effective at scaring the cold shit out of vampires and many other demons as the rituals and paraphanalia of Christianity, but he certainly wasn’t a Christian. His knowledge of the arcane, the occult and the extra-dimensional was second to only a handful, he liked to think, but as to who or what were the ultimate forces, and what, if any, the ultimate purpose behind this crazy and wonderful Universe, this left him as baffled and bewildered as anyone. If he had a religion, he would have to say he was a Watcher. And, he laughed bitterly to himself, that was one in which he had been seriously losing faith these past few years, and from which he had already been excommunicated once.
For all the warmth and light of the rising sun, Giles’s mood was apprehensive. Despite the warm welcome and hearty hospitality offered by the Coven, he had not been able to dispel from within himself the unesase left behind by his dream of the night before. He trusted them, but he wasn’t sure if Willow was ready to face this trial. She would not face execution or even imprisonment as she might at the hands of a secular court, but they would be probing today the very depths of her soul. And there was so much … unresolved within her, he sensed. Last night he had talked further with Dragonwind, the Coven leader, of what might be involved. Dark magick had wormed its way deep within her being, probably in ways of which she was scarcely aware, and removing that could require a cleansing ritual that would scour the very fabric of her soul.
He looked back up towards the hilltop, and the colourful, joyous circle of worshippers, and suddenly he felt very alone. He shook the feeling off quickly. He was here to be with Willow, to support her through this, not to wallow in his own maudlin reflections. He stopped for a moment of quiet to listen to the sounds of the moor, the birdsong, the whistling wind, the soft brushing of the gorse and heather, then started to clamber his way back up the hill, to where the hearing would soon be commencing.
***
It was now eight in the morning, and most of the group had departed for some much needed catching up of sleep, or a hot Midsummer’s breakfast in one of the nearby villages. With Willow and Giles, there remained five of the Coven. Three were to conduct the hearing: at their head was Dragonwind, a tall, imposing woman in her forties with jet black hair. Her features were flinty and hard-set, but not unkind. She was dressed in black, a chemise-top and a long, flowing skirt, which could have made her look almost comically like the fairy tale stereotype of a Witch, but for her demeanour, commanding yet comfortable, that quickly banished all thought of ridicule. Alongside her on her right was Forest, a dreadlocked, goateed man in his thirties whose face frequently showed a mischievous grin, and on her left, Shannon, a plumpish blond woman of a similar age.
These three sat cross-legged on small wooden meditation stools in a small arc in front of a wide cairn not far from the hilltop, that served as an altar. Willow sat facing them, with Giles next to her. Giles had brought a mat and some cushions to increase his comfort, but Willow chose to sit directly on the ground. Two other Wiccans, Kevin and Leaf, were present to assist with rituals and practicalities, and completed a loose circle. In the middle a pentagram had been inscribed, and around them a circle had been cast, with white, yellow and red candles round it, somehow kept alight despite the wind. The air was thick with the pungent smell of the sage that had been burnt in the casting of the circle, imbuing it with the energy of wisdom. To this end also, Dragonwind, Forest and Shannon all wore necklaces of Tigerseye, as well as prominent, metallic pentagrams. Dragonwind held a long, ornate dagger, or Athame.
Dragonwind stood, and the rest of them followed suit. She held the athame aloft in both hands and, looking slightly upwards, chanted
“I call on guides and spirits higher than I
To awaken the wisdom that we hold inside
As we work for the light make this spell right
Harming none and helping all is how it shall be
I call on Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, to share the wisdom
Of the Ages and Ages of Wisdom
This we make true by the pentagrams we wear,
Earth, Fire, Sea and Air
Ruled by spirit as all should be
This we make true”
Her voice rang with deep, smooth, crisp harmonics, like a well-tempered bell. The other witches chanted quietly with her. She then turned towards Willow.
“Blessed be. Willow Rosenberg, know that you are here among us not as a prisoner, but as a sister. This does not mean that this will not be a searching and painful enquiry, with hard judgements to be made, or that you do not face a difficult road ahead to make restitution. But we are not here to stand above you as the holy and righteous over the outcast criminal. Nor is this a court of law, a place of intricate legal argument and hair-splitting. We are here to hear the truth, as far as you and others can tell it and we can divine it, and to offer you a path to redemption. It will not be an easy one, and there may well be points along it when you wish for the comfort and certainty of a prison cell. But we believe this is a better path both for your own sake and for the sake of justice. Do you understand?”
“I… Blessed be. I understand. I am ready.”
“Good. Let us begin. Please, sit down.”
“Well. Here it is. Said I’d get you there! Niagara Falls!”
Dawn giggled and slightly and drew in a breath.
“It’s certainly something! Wow! I mean, wow!”
The two sisters stood in silence for a while and took in the sight, letting the water’s roar rush over them, its spray blasting them with cool, crisp relief from the hot midsummer sun, their hair flying ragged in the wind. They had been travelling for two weeks now. It had been hard for Buffy to leave Willow behind with things so up in the air, but things had been getting increasingly awkward with Buffy spending so much time over at Xander and Willow’s, and Dawn’s attitude to Willow. So now had seemed a good time to fulfil Buffy’s promise of showing her sister the world. Or at least America for now.
“Did you know that the great tightrope walker Blondin once walked across Niagara Falls?” asked Dawn, in the enthusiastic way of a child imparting recently acquired knowledge. “And there were like huge crowds cheering him and calling his name, and then when he got to the other side, he said to them - he said he was gonna walk back across, but this time carrying a man on his back, and he said ‘do you believe that I can do this’, and they were all like, ‘yes, we believe you, we believe you’, and then he said ‘Which one of you will be that man?’ and they all fell silent? And then one guy volunteered, and Blondin did it! He carried him across the tightrope!”
“Sounds cool. Wanna give it a try? I’m sure we could find some ropes, tie them together,…”
“No, no… I didn’t mean…”
“Kidding.” Buffy smiled. “Don’t worry. Not in a hurry to test my Slayer co-ordination quite that far!”
“But you see the point of the story is, they all said they believed him, but when it came to it, only one of them really believed in him enough to let him carry him!”
“Certainly full marks for believiness!”
They fell silent again, and gently wandered round the parklands overlooking the Falls. Eventually Dawn spoke. Her voice carried an edge.
“Willow’s trial’s today.”
Buffy sighed. “Yeah. Today. They’ll be well into it by now, time difference and all. Xander said she’d call him, and he’d fill me in.”
“What do you think they’ll do to her?”
“I don’t know, Dawn. I .. I just want it to be over, want her to be back with us - I know there has to be a price…”
“For killing Warren? For trying to kill me? And Xander and those other two guys? Oh, and yeah, trying to destroy the world? What’s the price for that?”
“Dawn, do we have to talk about this now? I mean..”
Dawn relented. “I’m sorry. I .. I just know you’re thinking about it, and … so that made me think about it and…”
“Dawn, I know it’s hard for you. It’s been hard for all of us … but you have to try to understand - that wasn’t Willow you saw there, Willow wasn’t in there, she said so herself, she’d been taken over…Willow - the real Willow - she’d never have said those things she said to you.”
“So who was it in there? Some kinda demon? Sure she was taken over by the magic - her magic. No-one made her say those things, do those things - she meant it.”
Buffy paused.
“Maybe a part of her did, but there was another part of her that didn’t. Xander - Xander reached her, reached the Willow that we know … when you care about someone, you have to keep on trying to reach that part of them … reach the good in them, you have to believe that that can defeat the evil - you can’t just give up.”
“Like with Faith.”
Buffy bristled.
“Faith was different!”
“How?”
Buffy paused, sighed, and smiled again.
“OK, maybe it’s me that’s different. I guess … I’ve been through so much. I lost mom, I nearly lost you, I nearly lost myself. I’ve seen what I’m capable of, what I could sink to… and - losing Willow is just not something I can think about. I know what she’s done. But when I see her now I can’t feel anger, I’m just so grateful that she’s back. Dawn, there’s not a day goes by when I don’t thank God … or the Powers That Be .. or who or whatever is looking out for us out there - that she came back. Can you understand that?”
Buffy looked her sister in the eye. Dawn looked down, then returned her gaze, then, giving no other answer, opened her arms and held Buffy tightly to her. They maintained their silent embrace for some while.
***
Willow walked through the fire.
Before the attentive witches, she retold and relived the events of the previous month. Punctuated by occasional questions from Dragonwind and the other two, she led them through everything that had happened those awful two days. From when … from the shooting - her attempt to appeal to Osiris, her healing of Buffy, her relentless pursuit, torture and killing of Warren, and all the rest. She entered once again into the pain that in that one moment became her world, her universe. Nothing else had existed. It was all-encompassing and voracious, and sought only to draw others into its endless black depths. Warren. Jonathon and Andrew. Her friends. The world. Until finally Xander, aided by the ‘essence of magic’ the Coven had placed within her through Giles, had broken through that pain and brought her back to the world of colour, of light, of love beyond it. She relived every moment of it. At times she wasn’t even aware of what she was saying. Her consciousness swam through the stormy darkness of that time. Her words seem to come from a different time, a different dimension. She sensed the Wiccans were picking up more than her words, that her spirit was speaking directly to theirs, enhanced by the energy of the circle and the power of the solstice sun. She held back nothing, she knew that, sparing neither them nor herself.
As her story reached its conclusion, she collapsed to the ground, drained and wrecked, breathing great heaving sobs. Giles came to her and held her. Dragonwind also rose from her seat and came to her, extending her hand.
“You have spoken bravely and truthfully, Willow,” her mellifluous voice flowed, “Rise now, get some rest and something to eat. We will continue when you are ready.” It was noon, and the sun shone bright and warm in the clear blue sky.
***
"Willow, we've basically heard everything we need to about what happened last month, but we need a bit more background about you and magick, if we're to properly understand what's going on here and what needs to be done. You're probably the most powerful witch any of us have met, and that includes any of us, on our own at least. So could you tell us how you started getting into Wicca and using magick, and how it developed up to the present? Is that OK?"
They had resumed after a couple of hours’ break. It was Forest who spoke this time. He had what Willow took to be a cockney accent or something like, and spoke in an easier, less formal manner than Dragonwind.
"Well, it was a little over five years ago - the first spell I did was to uninvite a vampire from Buffy's house - it was her ex-boyfriend who'd turned evil."
"Angel, the vampire with a soul?" asked Shannon, "we've heard of him"
"Well at that time he was very much Angelus, the vampire without a soul, but yes. And after that I started learning stuff, then the first big spell I did was to rework the curse that gave Angel his soul back. Though … it was like it wasn't me casting it, I started the ritual, but then the ritual sort of took over - it was performing me, rather than the other way round if you see what I mean."
"Can happen with that sort of powerful stuff", said Forest.
"Then I really started getting into the whole Wiccan thing, I read stuff, I think I even looked up some of what you guys have written on the web, I started doing some basic blessings, keeping a Book of Shadows, you know."
"Did you join a coven?"
"No… I was a solitary … I guess I was just too involved in what was going on with the Scoo- with Buffy and the others that I didn't think to start getting involved in a coven as well. And everything was happening so fast living on the Hellmouth - things were life and death pretty much on a weekly basis. When I thought about magick, it was mostly about which spells might keep us alive or save the world, I suppose I didn't think about the more spiritual kinda stuff. Maybe if I had…"
"Anyway, things sort of bumped along magickwise for me for a while, there was some good stuff, like I learnt to float pencils and even staked a vamp with one, but … I kinda plateaud, there were a few spells that went wrong…"
"Tell us about that?" interrupted Dragonwind.
"Oh - yeah, well when we were lost in this house that was possessed by a fear demon, I tried to conjure a mystic guide, but … I couldn't make up my mind what I wanted from it, and so they sorta multiplied, and there were dozens of them all buzzin' around me… so there was that, and then when my boyfriend left me I tried to cast a will-be-done spell to make the pain go away…"
"Mug's spell," said Forest, "promises the world, impossible to control. Even for an expert. Thank the Goddess."
"Yeah, I kinda realised that afterwards… but the magick started to take off when … when I…"
At this point Willow started to trail off. The three 'judges' said nothing, but gestured for her to continue.
"When I met Tara."
She struggled to maintain composure in her voice. She breathed heavily, and continued.
"She … she was everything to me - in my life, and in my magick - she knew so much more than me, and she understood magick so much more - but she said I had power, and she brought it out of me … Oh God!" Her voice cracked, but she continued through her sobs.
"She saw the magick in me - in every sense - and .. she brought it to life - and God, if she hadn't, she'd still be alive now and none of this…"
Giles moved over to Willow again.
"Willow, whatever else has happened, you can't blame yourself for her death."
Willow took some deep sobbing breaths and gradually composed herself to continue.
"We did a lot of spells together - like when Faith, the rogue Slayer, swapped bodies with Buffy, we did a spell to find her spirit in the netherworld, so she could swap them back…"
She continued her history, over the following months and years, holding nothing back. The only time she seemed to shock them was when she described the ritual of Osiris that had brought Buffy back from the dead.
"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Forest, "You used the Urn of Osiris? And it worked? And you lived?"
"We have read of the ritual, " said Dragonwind, "but we had assumed the power involved to be too great for a mortal to bear. It is a dark and dangerous magick, and whoever uses it cannot but be changed by it, and not for the better. It is little wonder you followed the path you did after that." They looked at Willow with a new respect, a degree of awe even, and not a little fear.
She told them of the most painful things, the forgetting spell she’d performed on Tara and their resulting split. Then she told of her descent into addiction.
"It was my friend Amy who showed me that side of things - I'd not realised that magick could be used like that, to get a rush - like a drug"
"Yeah, if you're into that sort of thing. I prefer hash myself. Sorry, go on."
Willow was about to feel shocked by Forest's remark, then realised moral outrage was a little out of place here.
"At the time, I mean things got bad, and I hurt people I cared about - but at the time it almost helped in a way, made me see what was happening. I mean, I'd been misusing magick for a while, but when I realised I was addicted, that I was using it as a drug, that it made the issues much clearer. I’d always been very clear I’d never get into that. Just say no. I guess I needed to have a big anvil dropped on my head like that to realise I needed help."
"So, I crashed a car under the influence - with Dawn in it … she was OK, but after that I went cold turkey, and I didn't use magic again until…"
Until.
“Willow, Rupert, would you come and rejoin us?”
Willow and Giles had been wandering around the nearby moorland to keep themselves occupied while the wiccan tribunal considered their verdict. Now Kevin, one of the assistants at the hearing, had come to fetch them. He spoke with a soft, Northern Irish accent.
“Yes, of course, by all means” replied Giles, somewhat nervously. They did not speak further as they returned to the circle. It had been a couple of hours, and in the intervening time they’d had the chance to talk things over, though Giles had been trying to encourage Willow not to dwell too much on the coming judgement - though in truth, she seemed less nervous about it than he. Speaking openly of everything that had happened seemed to have had a cleansing effect on Willow -- she said she’d felt positive energy flowing through her as she spoke, coming from the circle of wisdom cast around them. Whatever was to come, she saw as the next step in her cleansing, her redemption, and now she strode confidently to face it. Giles hoped she was right, but he was all too aware of the how much she had to work through, how much power remained within her, and with it the potential to take over, to draw her again to the darkness from which she had scarcely emerged.
They reached the circle. Giles could feel tension in the air, though the tribunal smiled and welcomed them as they returned. Dragonwind and the others stood, and Willow and Giles took their places in the circle. A brief blessing was recited to draw them back into the circle, matching one that had bid them leave while the witches pondered. Then Dragonwind addressed Willow. Her gaze and her tone were firm, but not harsh. Nonetheless, the tension now began to show on Willow’s face, and she gulped slightly.
“Willow. Blessed be. You do not need to be told what you have done, as you have never tried to hide or lessen it. Nonetheless it must be stated clearly and aloud. You have abused the power of magick, of the energy that animates the whole universe. You have broken the Wiccan Rede, “An it harm none, do what ye will”, in the most grievous way possible. You have taken a human life. You came close to destroying all life in this dimension, so great was your power and your submission to darkness.
“And yet, at the last, you turned from that darkness, and now seek to redress your wrongs. Your friends have welcomed you back into the circle of their love, and we too wish you to return to harmony with the universe, with humanity, with us your sister and brother Wiccans.
“Yet there must be consequences, and you must face these with the same honesty and courage you have shown today in your testimony. Ours is not the way of vengeance, rather of redress, that you may give of yourself for good to counteract in some way the evil you have done, though that evil can never be reversed. The Rede teaches that our actions come back to us threefold, positive and negative. Therefore there are three ways in which we have judged you should pay for your actions. We will not compel you, though we believe this is the path you must follow to be restored to peace and harmony with the world.”
Willow replied, “Blessed be. I … trust your judgement and I’m ready to do what I have to.”
“Good. Firstly, the least of the three - though money can never bring back the dead, it is one way by which you can make some positive contribution. For twenty years, our judgement is that you should pay half of all you earn, to us, and we shall channel it anonymously to Warren’s family. Do you accept this?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Secondly, and this is rather harder and of much greater significance, for twenty years also, you shall continue in the fight against evil in whatever way you can, at the side of the Slayer.”
“There’s nothing I want to do more than support Buffy…”
“Do not be so sure. Buffy will probably not be the Slayer for so long. Our judgement is that you should work with the Slayer, whoever she be. Some you may not get along with so well. You will continue to be in danger through this way of life. Maybe now it is what you want, but in five, ten, fifteen years time it may not be. In that time you may want children, and that would without doubt be affected by your work. We want you to be fully aware of what you are committing yourself to.”
“I know it’s not all gonna be a bunch of roses, but I couldn’t live with myself if I wasn’t trying to do good in the world in some way. I know it’ll be hard.”
Dragonwind smiled. “You are wise, Willow, and we believe you can face this. The third part of our judgement is perhaps the hardest of all. Willow, your power is still great, as we have said, greater than anyone we’ve met before. Right now it is under control, and you would surely not wish to use it for evil. But there is danger in that power. You have allowed it to control you before, and you have, at times almost without realising it, slipped into abuse of it. If you continue to use magic there is every danger that it could once again lead you astray, and the consequences of that cannot be thought of.
It is therefore our judgement that the power of magick must be removed from you completely and permanently. There is a ritual we can perform that will do this, so that from now on you will be unable to wield magickal energy in any way. This ritual is not without danger. Drawing so much power from so deep within you will test you in ways you cannot imagine. We will encircle you with every protection and blessing we can, but still magick will have the potential to tear your soul apart if you do not remain properly grounded. Again, therefore, we will not compel you to submit to this. But without it, we will have to consider you ever a danger to yourself and others, and maintain the closest scrutiny of you by every means at our disposal. Will you submit yourself to this ritual?”
Willow considered her words.
“I know … this’ll probably be the hardest thing I’ve ever been through, and I’ve been through some pretty heavy stuff. But I know I dare not use magick. I stopped before, but it only took one moment to drive me over the edge. I can’t let that happen again.”
“Good. Willow, you may not yet be able to believe it of yourself, but you are a brave and true soul. We shall perform the ritual at sundown. We suggest you take some rest and prepare yourself. May the goddess infuse our beings with her power, wisdom and love, and bring you safely through all you must face. This hearing is now complete. So mote it be!”
***
“So, Willow, they’re gonna make you into a muggle?”
Willow laughed at the reference. Xander’s voice at the end of the phone, as always, lifted her spirits.
“One totally magic-free Willow comin’ up! When they’re done, I could read out the most powerful scroll on the planet and nothing’d happen.”
“So how does that work? I mean I thought there was supposed to be this magical energy flowing through everything? How do they make it not flow through you? I mean even I made a book catch fire once when I read it aloud in the magic shop, and I’m no Wicca.”
“I’m not sure I understand it exactly. First they’re gonna drain all the power out that’s built up over the years - they say there’s still an aura about me that means there’s a lot left - but then - well, there’s magic in everything, but it has to be manipulated. There’s various rituals you can use, herbs, symbols, y’know, that can focus it - and then more powerful things like magic items - and then there’s scrolls and spellbooks which are like supercharged packets of magic ready to be set off - but in the end there’s gotta be someone to set it off, to give the command. Anyone can do that if there’s enough to focus their power, enough that’s been set up by someone else, like you and the book.”
“Whereas you could just set off all the magical energy from Sunnydale to Outer Mongolia with a thought.”
“Pretty much … but the thing is it’s gotta go through your Name. I mean you don’t have to say your Name out loud or even think it, in fact you rarely do, but every sentient being has a Name, and that’s sorta like your signature on the spell … when you make it happen there’s like a little bit tagged on the bottom of the spell saying I, Willow Rosenberg command this. Or … or… the spell’s like a legal document, and there might be an awful lot of power stored up in it, like a legal document can make a lot of stuff happen, but you still have to sign it. You with me?”
“Kinda… I, Xander Harris, command this. Just trying that out to see how it feels. Nah. You were saying?”
“So what they’re gonna do is cut my Name off from the energy … sort of cross it off the Univers’s list of Names for doing magic. So even if I were to try to do a spell, the magic wouldn’t recognise me. It wouldn’t recognise my signature.”
“Just so long as they don’t cross your name off all the public records. That could get kind of awkward. God, what if your credit cards don’t work?”
Xander paused.
“Seriously Will, that sounds like big mojo. Are you sure … it’s safe … there aren’t any possible consequences?”
“Nothing’s completely safe, but … Xander, I’ll be OK. It’s the right thing to do. Then I can start again.”
“With 20 years as a Slayerette. On half pay. Though mind you, half of nothing is pretty much nothing, so I’m not sure what…”
Willlow chuckled. “It’s not 24-7, the Slayeretting, I’ll be carrying on my studies, maybe getting a job of some sort... But it’ll be like now, I’ll be Scoobying, ‘cept from now on, that’s always gotta be numero uno.” She paused. “It’s the least I can do.”
Xander replied “You know I’ll be there with you. Always.”
“I know.”
They said their goodbyes, and Willow put down the phone. They were in the Coven’s community house in Oakhampton. There had still been several hours to go till sundown when the hearing finished, so they’d gone back there for the meantime. Giles came alongside her.
“Willow, you know there are very real dangers in this ritual.”
“I know. But … I’ll be OK. They’ll be putting down major protection spells, and … I’m ready for this.”
“However strong the protection, this ritual will be cutting deep into your soul … it’s major surgery if you like … it will take an awful lot of strength of will to handle it, to centre yourself. It would be very easy to … get lost.”
“And, ready for it. Besides, don’t really wanna be Willow, Rogue Witch Weapons of Mass Destruction Rosenberg for the rest of my life.”
“I’m sure you are ready, Willow, as ready as anyone can be, but … you can’t know exactly what you’re going to face - this hasn’t been done to a willing subject for well over a millenium. And … there may be alternatives, I … I could speak to them, you could, appeal as it were. There may be ways of making sure your powers are kept … contained.”
“Giles, you know how it is with me and magic. I can’t be certain something wouldn’t happen that could set me off again - maybe not in a world-destroying way, pretty much over that hate-the-world-and-want-it-to-end sort of thing, but bad enough to mess me up, not to mention the people I care about.”
She paused and smiled a smile that reminded Giles of the sweet, innocent creature he’d first met six years ago.
“Giles, I know you care, and I appreciate it, you can’t begin to know how much I appreciate all you’ve done for me this past month, after what I … but trust me. This is for the best. I’ll be fine. Resolve face.”
She hugged him, and he returned her embrace, somewhat uncertainly at first, then fervently.
“Breathing…”
He let go, and looked at her. “Just … just make sure you come out of it in one piece.”
Willow smiled again, then turned to go.
“Or I shall never forgive myself”, Giles added to himself.
“Deep peace of the Running Wave to you, Deep peace of the Flowing Air to you, Deep peace of the Quiet Earth to you, Deep peace of the Shining Stars to you, Deep peace of the Gentle night to you. May the Moon and Stars pour their Healing Light on you. Deepest Peace of the Light of the World to you. Deep peace…”
The witches circled and danced round Willow, chanting their blessing as part of the powerful spell of protection they were weaving for her. The air was filled with the rich, pungent smell of the cedar and sandalwood they were burning in casting the circle. Four obsidian arrowheads were placed at the points of the compass, channeling protective energy into the circle.
This was the innermost of two circles, to ground and calm Willow, giving her some protection from the awesome forces that would be brought to bear as a result of the magic draining. The outer circle, which included Dragonwind, was to be the one to carry out the ritual itself. To them also fell the task of containing the magical energies that would be drawn from her. They had just begun to cast their circle, walking anticlockwise, as theirs was a spell of diminishment, while the inner circle moved clockwise for a spell of enhancement. The effect was almost hypnotic to Giles, who stood anxiously about 10 paces south from the outer circle - close enough to keep a view of Willow, but not too near to the epicentre of the forces about to be unleashed.
In the very middle Willow sat cross-legged, inside a pentatcle, facing west. Her hands, face and neck had been anointed with myrrh and stained red with juniper berries. It was clear she was at least somewhat nervous, but her face was hard set with determination.
The outer circle were completing their preparations. They presented quite a forbidding appearance, dressed all in black, each wearing a black tourmaline pendant to protect them from the energies their spell would call forth. At one end of the circle stood Dragonwind, bearing the athame, while at the other stood Shannon. She held aloft a large black orb of many faces, which seemed to draw the fading light into itself. Giles could not tell its construction. When Dragonwind reached the eastern point of the circle, she held up the athame, and the circle began to chant slowly as they walked round:
“We conjure thee O circle of power, that thou be as a boundary between the world of humans and the realms of the mighty ones. A guardian and a protection to preserve and contain the power that we shall raise within until such time as we choose to release it. Therefore do we bless and consecrate thee.”
The circle was complete, and the air around them seemed briefly to shimmer with power. This was no ordinary ritual they were undertaking, and the power to be contained was of a much greater order than for your average spell. Dragonwind, back at the eastern end of the circle, planted the athame in the ground below her.
The inner circle continued their blessing of peace throughout, as now the outer circle turned to face Shannon, who held the orb aloft, and spoke in her crisp, high voice,
“Goddess Isis, Mother of All, we call upon thee! Spirits of elemental power we call upon thee! Earth, Air, Fire and Water we call upon thee! Make ready this orb and imbue it with your vitality! Let it be a vessel strong and sure to receive and to hold the power that will be poured forth into it! Let no flaw weaken it! Let the bonds that hold each atom of crystal to the next be made firm, and let no power overwhelm it! This we pray!”
An Orb of Isis. A slight thrill went through Giles momentarily, then renewed concern. This was powerful magic indeed.
***
“Deep peace of the gentle night to you…”
Willow felt at peace. It seemed a very long time since she could truly say that. Times of happiness, but everything had got so confused. Not since before Buffy’s death, certainly, probably not since before Buffy’s mom’s death. Things had moved so fast since then. Willow thought of her own mother, whom she still spoke to about once a week, and who she still loved in a way, but who knew nothing of what her little girl had become. She’d told her she was going for a holiday in England. “Have a nice trip dear, bring back photos.” She smiled inwardly.
She gathered her thoughts again, and looked around her at the two circles of witches, and the wide, bleak moorland beyond them, shrouded in twilight. She felt at one with the earth beneath her and the sky above, in whose blue-black dusk the stars were beginning to be visible. In the west were still tinges of red as the sun reluctantly relinquished its last hold on the day. In the distance she heard the faint babble of a brook. She felt at one with it all. She centred herself, emptying her mind of all thoughts, focusing on the soft chanting of the inner circle. She was ready.
As the sun finally slipped beneath the horizon, the outer circle linked arms, the two next to Shannon placing their hands on her shoulders as she held out the Orb of Isis, and commenced a quiet low hum. After a few seconds, Dragonwind began to chant, slowly, rythmically, in a strange, harsh-sounding tongue, surely long-dead, but which seemed charged with power. Then Shannon replied in a cross-rhythm, 4-time to Dragonwind’s 6-time. The others continued their humming, harmonies emerging, resonances building up. As the volume gradually increased, Willow seemed to shudder, and the air in front of her shimmered … not with light, there was no light, but the air was disturbed with some sort of wave. If the light were better, dust could be seen to dance in it. The wave of magickal energy hovered briefly, then formed a beam which snaked its way slowly towards the Orb. When it reached it, the Orb buzzed and shifted slightly in Shannon’s hands.
Willow shuddered as she felt the spell’s impact. She could sense the power flowing forth from her, being drawn from her. It was an eerie sensation, and her stomach turned slightly, but she held her focus, maintained her centre. She concentrated on the black obsidian arrowhead in front of her, pointed inward towards her, and on the chanting of her protection circle.
***
Giles’ anxiety began to ease as he watched the spell begin to take effect, and as he saw Willow’s relaxed, even serene demeanour. He had felt so helpless, and it was a feeling he hated. He had last felt like this when Buffy had gone off to fight the Master, that is after he’d come round from being crocked by her. Of course whenever Buffy had gone out to fight, he had never forgot the possibility that she might not return, but he knew she was strong and capable - she was never safe, it was never OK, but he’d learnt to live with it.
Willow too possessed great strengths, but this was new territory. She said she was ready, but how could anyone truly be ready for something as unusual and as dangerous as this? They were sucking the magickal energy from every pore of her being. That would normally kill a person, as Willow had killed Rack (who, it turned out, had been over 150 years old, prolonging his life with the power he drew from others). She would have killed Giles too, had she followed through with the power drain, beyond the easily-accessible surface power lent him by the Coven. Even so it had been a near thing. But this ritual was carefully controlled to draw the power from her gradually. The elaborate protections were to enable her to centre herself, to hold onto herself as the magick ebbed from her, to prevent her from getting lost. So far it was working, her expression remained calm and resolute. Perhaps it would be OK.
***
The humming and chanting seemed to become louder and faster, and Willow could likewise feel the energy drain faster from her. Her skin tightened and her breathing became heavier. She felt a sensation not unlike pins and needles, as the spell reached deeper within her. Images began to flash before her, images from her early life. People, her mother and father, Xander, her first day at school. She held to her centre, she .. gave the energy permission to leave her.
The beam of energy seemed to buzz with a frequency that resonated with the humming of the spellcasters, and the Orb of Isis crackled. The air around the witches seemed close, as if a thuderstorm were about to break out. Tension began to rise amongst them, but Dragonwind and Shannon gave reassuring glances around, drawing their colleagues in and sharing strength.
Willow gritted her teeth, her face showing signs of stress, but still a firm resolution. The power within was stronger now, and she began to feel real pain, a searing heat - but also a cleansing heat, and she held on. She breathed slowly, deeply and deliberately, she tried to tune her ears to the blessing of peace, which seemed now to carry a note of urgency. She felt the spell dig deeper into her, probing her like a dentist’s tool, but she opened herself to it, let it do its work, ignoring the pain. She tried to focus on what she could see around her, against the images that were crowding her mind. They came thicker and faster, buffetting her - now they included images of pain and sorrow, of rejection, of fear, as well as the more positive ones. A whimper escaped her mouth.
She visualised herself in a storm in a forest, with the wind blowing around her, trying to blow her away, but she held onto the strong trunk of a tall tree. Her eyes watered and her ears rang, but she held on.
The witches in the outer circle too were feeling the strain, as they struggled to maintain their concentration and their humming and chanting. Shannon in particular was shaking with what looked like almost unbearable tension as she held out the Orb of Isis, and she struggled to keep her voice firm and even in her rhythmic chanting. The two either side of her held her firmly.
She let out a slight cry as the orb jumped in her hand and crackled, releasing a hooked, electrical bolt of energy, which crashed into the edge of the circle, then seemed to dissipate as it hit the powerful protections they had created. Concern and even alarm showed on some faces, but they heard Dragonwind speak in their minds, reassuring them, “It’s all right, this is to be expected. It is becoming more difficult, and there will be leaks such as that, but it is othing we can’t contain.”
Willow too heard Dragonwind’s voice, urging her to stay centred, not to resist, and she renewed her efforts to follow this. The power dug deeper, but her senses became numb to the pain, and she tried to shut the images out, deny them mastery over her. She closed her eyes, and held to her tree, as the storm rose - she could hear it whistle and roar in her ears.
The energy dug deeper into her, and though it was almost unbearable she held on. The images were joined with voices, so that now she could barely hear the chanting around her. A low moan escaped her lips.
More energy crackled from the Orb, and the circle of power shook and buckled as it absorbed the impact. The inner circle also struggled to maintain their composure as energy danced around them, but Dragonwind’s mind spoke again, “Not long! Hold firm, we are nearly done.”
Deeper and deeper into Willow’s soul the spell reached, and she could no longer separate herself from the images, the people, the voices, the events from her life - she saw herself in the circle with Tara, Xander and Anya, casting the ritual of Osiris to resurrect Buffy. She seemed to float above herself as she watched herself scream with pain, watched her skin cut and bleed, the snake burst forth from her mouth. She saw demon bikers, she saw the Urn smash, she saw the entity in the form of Buffy as she lay in bed, and heard its dire accusations, felt its hatred.
The spell cut deeper still, and reached a section of her mind that she had tried to close off from herself, a section that was too painful, that she was not yet ready fully to deal with. It reached this, it breached her barriers, cut them open, and let all that was within pour out.
The spell reached Tara.
< at flew Tara of Images ecstacy. felt together, cast they spells Gentlemen, from escaping hands hold first them saw met, time was She loss. and pain sense unbearable an her, over flooded>
She wept uncontrollably.
Then she began to see and feel other things, other images. Painful, hurtful images. Tara, brain-sucked, crying out in distress and confusion, as Glory’s evil wormed through her mind. The hurt on her face when they’d argued just before. The look of shock as the bullet hit her. Tara packing her bags and walking out of the house. The look she gave her when they got their memories back. Anger. Disgust. Tara’s voice echoed in her mind, crowding in on her all at once.
“What are you doing? Will?”
“God, what is wrong with you?!”
Willow called Tara’s name, anguished, questioning.
“I don't think this is gonna work.”
“Willow … your shirt!”
“It frightens me how powerful you're getting.”
“Willow, you are using too much magic.”
“Will, no, you can't!”
“Maybe that's how it started, but ... you're helping yourself now, fixing things to your liking. Including me.”
“Do you think I'm stupid? I know you used that spell on me.”
To what? Violate my mind like that? How could you, Willow? How could you after what Glory did to me?”
“Tara, NOOO!”
“How could you?”
She screamed, losing all grasp of reality, of the chanting, of the protection circle, the world around her. Her hold was shattered, and she blew away, dazed, through a sea of images, dazzling, garish light and raucous noise, blown by the wind. She saw Tara blow. Tara blew the wind. Tara was the wind.
Then, suddenly, all was quiet. Calm. Cold. She lay sprawled on a parched, cracked landscape. A cold sun in the sky beat down upon her. Tara stood before, dressed in black, that same look of disgust and anger on her face.
“How could you, Willow? After what Warren did to me? How could you do those things?”
“Tara, Tara….”
“What were you thinking? You think that would please me? Revenge? Is that what you think I wanted?,” Tara’s voice rose in anger, “Is that what you think of me? Is that what I meant to you?”
Willow cried out and beat the ground. Tara stepped up towards her.
“Is that how you honour my memory? Is that it? Do you think I can rest? DO YOU THINK I CAN REST??”
Her voice reached a fevered screech.
“WHY DID YOU BETRAY ME WILLOW?”
Then she drew from by her side a long, barbed chain attached to a handle which she held. She stood over Willow, raised the flail above her head and brought it down on Willow’s body. Willow cried in pain, and tried to move away. Tara struck her again.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Willow screamed and knelt upright. She screamed again, and drew power to herself, the power that had been ebbing from her she now drew back. She drew forth her arms and fired bolts of fiery energy at the terrible image of her lover that stood before her. The energy hit home, and the image shattered like glass.
***
The witches saw the change come over Willow. They saw the look of pained but firm resolution give way to horror. Saw her break down and weep, then call out incoherently, lost to them and engaged in some inner struggle.
The beam of energy flickered and began to lose coherence, scattering in several directions. No longer a dark wave, it crackled with eldritch light, scorching a man in the inner circle who cried out in pain. The energy hooked back towards the Orb, but some crashed against the magickal walls of the circle, causing it to shake and light up like a sheet of lightning. The spellcasters struggled to hold the circles together, to continue the spell, but it seemed to have developed a life of its own. They could see Willow fighting unconsciously against the spell, disturbing the flow of energy.
Then they heard her scream. Her scream brought in its wake a powerful jolt of magic. Caught by it face on, one of the witches of the protection circle was knocked backwards onto the ground, her hold on the woman to her right broken. The outer circle braced themselves against it and held on, and the magickal barrier juddered.
Then she screamed again, a prolonged, piercing scream of denial. She bolted upright, her face contorted with pain, grief and madness, and raised her arms. The magic that had been draining from her was abruptly reversed, flowing back into her fingers. Then it was cast forth in a massive burst of eldritch power, high into the air, lighting up the entire dome of the protective barrier. Bolts flew from the dome, crashing into the witches who cried out in surprise. The outer circle was broken as men and women fell to the ground. The Orb of Isis seemed to creak and moan in distress, and Shannon, supported by her two neighbours, desperately hugged it to herself, though it seemed to burn her with leaking power. Cracks began to appear in the barrier.
Willow stood now, arms outstretched, her mouth open in a scream, power arching from her upraised hands at the same time as it drained from her, the Orb now asserting its power independently of the witches. Magic swirled in all directions. Willow seemed to have no idea what she was doing, driven by forces she could not control. Her hair was jet black.
Giles, as he saw all this beginning, stepped closer and took off his glasses, alarm and concern growing on his face. “What’s happening?,” he called out, “Will somebody tell me what is happening? For God’s sake what are you doing to her?”
Dragonwind had been shouting out above the roar of the magick energy, first to Willow, telling her to stop fighting it, to regain her centre, but Willow was beyond hearing. Desperately, she tried to draw the circles back together, but was continually frustrated by new bursts of wild magic. She drew herself up to her full height and cried out some new spell at the top of her voice, and this seemed to pull the outer circle at least to themselves, focused them on her, so that they could reform. But the inner, protection circle was still in disarray, with one woman spreadeagled on the ground, stunned by the burst of energy that had hit her.
“We must hold together! The circle must not be breached!”
She had abandoned her mind speaking, lacking the focus.
“We must complete the ritual!” called out Forest, “We’ve got to get ourselves back together!”
“We can’t with Willow like this! The Orb is close to breaking point! If it bursts and releases its energy, the barrier will be shattered, we shall all be killed and the goddess knows what destruction may be wreaked!” replied Dragonwind
“You’ve got to help her!,” shouted Giles impotently, “For heavens sake!”
“What. Are. We. Going. To. Do.?” Yelled Shannon through gritted teeth, “I can’t hold this much longer!”
Dragonwind answered, “If Willow cannot be brought back soon, if the protection circle cannot be reformed, we must abandon the ritual! We must pull the inner circle back to join us, and put all our forces into containing the energy. We will have to push the barrier inside of us and just hold it together!”
“But Willow, all that power, “ said Forest, “without any protection or control … it’ll kill her!”
Dragonwind gave no answer.
Giles struggled to hear, but he caught the gist of it, and cried out in anger.
“What? What are you talking about? You fools, you can’t let that happen! You’ve got to let me help -“, and he ran towards the circle. He hit the barrier, and was thrown backwards onto the ground. He blacked out.
***
The ground beneath Willow began to shake. She struggled to pull herself to her feet. There was a roar, and the ground opened up beneath her, a huge chasm into which she fell, down, down, falling upright with arms outstretched. Around her, she heard Tara’s voice, reproaching her. Again she drew power, lashing out randomly. Then suddenly she was at the bottom, seemingly in a deep, huge underground cavern. She could not see the roof above her, and around her was rough, rocky ground as far as she could see.
Then Tara was there, dressed now in red. Willow ran. Tara followed, striding after her. Willow ran into a dark tunnel, but still she could hear Tara pursuing her. The ground continued to shake, and Willow drew upon all the power she could to stop herself being torn apart by the forces around her. She kept on running, losing all sense of time and space. She might have been running for hours, or for a fraction of a second.
Then Tara was in front of her, glowering, hands on hips. The ground shook again, and Willow lost her footing, falling on her back. Tara stood over her, her countenance hideous and distorted.
“You see what you did?, “ she said, quietly now, but full of venom, “Well now you’re gonna face the consequences. You think you’re gonna be redeemed from this? Forgiven? That they’re your friends out there? Well they’re not. They’re gonna punish you. Like you deserve. BITCH!”
Willow again released energy, and again the ground opened up beneath her and she fell.
“Tara,“ she murmured, “This … this isn’t you… it can’t be…”
She fell, and all around her seemed to be fire, and the fire burned her. Tara burned her and she could not escape. And the fire was her, Willow, was power, her power, and she spewed it forth in all directions as she fell. She could no longer hear, no longer see, there was only power, falling, and burning pain.
***
It was no use. Once, twice, the Coven had tried to pull themselves back into some semblance of order, but Willow’s wild flailings continued to scatter them. The woman who had been sent flying had got back up, only to be knocked down again. The air within the dome of the circle was alive with wild energy, and rents were beginning to appear in the surface.
Dragonwind prepared to give the order to pull out the protection circle.
***
And then a voice.
“Willow?”
A still, small voice, but clear and strong, cutting through the fire to her mind, to her heart. Washing over her like a cool, clear stream.
“Tara? Is it…? What…”
“Shh. It’s OK.”
She was no longer falling, no longer in the fire, but stood on open land, grassland. It was dark. She fell to her knees. Tara stood before her, a gentle smile on her face. Willow opened her mouth to speak, but Tara put her finger to her lips and smiled again.
“Just be quiet. Be still. All will be well. All manner of things will be well.”
Then she turned. Through her tears, Willow could now see the landscape around her, the rough heather and gorse of Dartmoor, and she could see the two circles of witches around her, and the hazy image of her dead girlfriend moving among them.
She fell forward on the ground and sobbed, but the nightmarish visions within her were gone, and she no longer drew or cast forth power. She heard voices from outside, and she felt the magick begin to drain from her again, cutting into her again, but no longer with the barbed edges that had torn her before. She felt herself swept along on a sea, waves rising under her carrying her along, but she no longer fought it, let herself be carried by the ocean. Power ebbed from within her, and she began to drift, her mind loosening, her heartbeat slowing. She span gently through a vast blackness and then knew no more.
***
None of them knew later when exactly she appeared. One moment there was just Willow inside the pentagram, and then she was there, the ghostly blond figure in green and blue. Those at the east could see her kind, soft features, as she seemed to speak to Willow, though they could not hear what she was saying. But suddenly, Willow stopped fighting, her arms fell by her sides, and she fell to the ground, weeping. Her hair began to return to its natural colour. The apparition put her finger over Willow’s mouth, seemed to speak again, then turned.
Giles came round, and gaped in amazement at what he saw, at first assuming his vision wasn’t quite right yet. He scrambled for his glasses. Tara, or her spirit at any rate, or so he presumed, walked over to the woman who lay prone on the ground, and took her hand, pulling her to her feet. She stretched out her other hand to the next person in the circle who gazed at her goggle eyed - Seonaid, a Scottish woman with whom Giles had briefly talked once, and who somehow reminded him of Willow - and grasped her hand, then pulled the two women together to link hands with each other, reforming the circle. Then she seemed to turn towards him, flashing him a slightly mischievous smile. Then she vanished.
Around them, energy still crackled and pressed against the edges of the circle, but it was easing off as the source dried up. The outer circle linked arms again, and renewed their ritual, as the inner circle once again took up the chant of peace. The magickal energy stabilised, and merged back into the beam, or wave, that flowed from Willow’s now sleeping form to the Orb, which pulsated and crackled occasionally, but no longer seemed in danger of breaking up. A short while later, Dragonwind raised her hand, and the others stopped. She drew from her robe a crooked stick with a serpent’s head, raised it high and nodded, whereupon both circles spoke in unison.
“God and Goddess hear us. Lords of light and darkness hear us. From your daughter here before, let mystick power flow no more. From the cosmos’ force arcane, ever severed be her name!”
Then she took the snake stick between her hands and snapped it in two. There was a brief report, like that of a pistol. Then silence. A wave of relief swept through all assembled.
“Is that it?” asked Giles.
Willow awoke to a murmur of voices. She could feel a hand pressed against hers.
“Tara?” she whispered
“Willow? No, I’m afraid it’s only me.”
Willow opened her eyes. “Giles! Oh, sorry…”
Giles was beaming. A number of the others were standing close by, including Dragonwind, who wore a look of concern. She was in the Coven’s house, in a bed in an upstairs room.
“Willow, thank God you’re alright!”
“Good to see you too…” She sat up, and looked at Giles. “Did … was she? I thought I saw her but everything was so mixed up…”
Dragonwind replied.
“We saw something … someone, and Giles says she looked like your girlfriend. It may have been her spirit, or her essence taking a quasi-material form or…” Dragonwind stopped, a puzzled expression on her face.
“What is it?” asked Willow.
“Sometimes… when there is a person of great… “ she stopped and drew a breath.
“I mean, very occasionally people walk the earth, live as men and women, though they are very close expressions of a divine essence … avatars if you like, or their children. After they die as humans it has been known for them - or an expression of their essence - to come to those they loved on earth in their hour of need. They are usually individuals of great wisdom and compassion, and that can continue after death… what happened could fit the pattern.”
Willow looked slightly nonplussed, not knowing what to make of this.
“Oh, that’s probably just wild speculation. Pardon me, “ Dragonwind continued, “It was most likely her spirit in some form or other.”
“How are you feeling, Willow?” asked Giles.
“I..I’m OK I guess,” she replied, “just a little groggy. And hungry. How long have I been out?”
“It’s nearly one o’clock. There’s been a constant watch, as we didn’t know how you’d be after what you went through in the ritual, but your body seems to have come out of it all without too much trauma. When someone said you were waking we all came. Can you stand?”
Willow took Giles’ hand and drew herself to her feet.
“Gosh! Solid ground! Nothing shaking or.. or burning or crackling or blowing. Takes some getting used to.”
***
They spent two more nights at the house, and took the chance to get to know some of the Coven a little. One time, when Willow was talking with a couple of the people there she said, “You know it just feels strange to think about… how I got here, where I’ve come from. How a shy computer geek came to do all those things, nearly destroy the world, how I got so lost. I think to myself, where did it all start to go wrong, what was it in me that led to that? Was there always a bit of me that wanted to destroy the world? ‘Cuz that was never part of my career plan.”
They received this in silence, then after a moment Kevin, the Irish guy who’d helped out at the hearing, spoke up.
“I don’t really know you well … but I think maybe… anyone who’s really trying to do good in the world, to actually make a difference, has to walk on the very cusp of evil. That’s what you were doing, and you crossed over, and maybe in a way you had to go through that.”
Willow considered this. “I dunno, I kinda think the crossing over bit was a big no-no, but … I think I get what you’re saying.
***
“Well, Willow, I guess this is goodbye again for now.”
They stood in the forecourt of Bath station, to which Giles had driven Willow before returning home.
“Will you be coming to Sunnydale again soon? I promise a friendlier reception than last time!”
Giles smiled. “No doubt something or other will bring me there before very long. The desire to see old friends if nothing else.”
“Why not come and join us for Thanksgiving? That is, so long as there aren’t any vengeful spirits gatecrashing the party.” Willow paused. “Talking of thanksgiving, have I thanked you properly for everything you’ve done for me here?”
“Only about six or seven times.” Giles’ expression became serious. “For a while there I thought what I’d done was get you killed. If it hadn’t been for … for Tara…”
“I know. I..it was bad, it was very bad, I’d totally lost it. And it freaks me out to think what could have happened, that the Coven would have had to … kill me.”
There was a silence between them, as they digested that, then Willow continued.
“But you did the right thing bringing me here. And they did the right thing. That power was inside me, and, and maybe I could have learnt to control it, but maybe not. It would have been so easy for something to have triggered me off, the way the spell did, especially living on the Hellmouth n’all. It was like there was a timebomb ticking inside me, and if they couldn’t defuse it, maybe putting up a forcefield and letting it blow me up was the only way.”
“You can’t begin to know how glad I am it didn’t come to that.”
“Not exactly hating the whole not being dead thing myself.”
Giles didn’t seem to hear. He had become absent at Willow’s words, gazing off into the distance. Then he turned to her and spoke.
“Willow, there’s something I should tell you.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Last year, I… when…”
“Uh-huh?”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, you need to be getting on your train. Some time. Goodbye Willow, and take care.”
“You too.”
They embraced, then Willow picked up her bags and turned towards the platform.
THE END
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