Laid To Rest Parts 1 - 15
TITLE: Laid To Rest
RATING: NC-17
COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Joss owns them. I love ‘em.
FEEDBACK: Yep, tommo27@hotmail.com
SPOILERS: 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 1
It began as it always did. A flash of an image in the darkness; a terrible sound like tearing cloth, ripping apart with vicious ferocity. The light strobed itself around her head, flickering into her senses and then blacking out again, all within milliseconds of each other. Within this kaleidoscope, a shadowed figure emerged from a distance, each step bringing it closer to her. She was unable to move, as always, struck dumb with fear and…yes…loathing. The emotion filling her body like a flame, burning brightly in her head, pulsing at her temples. She wanted to lift her hands, see the lightning burst forth and repel the figure. But, as always, nothing happened. She merely waited.
Closer. The figure drew closer. Until, at last, Willow could see the outline surrounded by a bright whiteness, almost blinding her. The strands of hair were captured by the light, becoming extensions of the fair head around which it fanned like a beautiful halo.
Only this was no angel.
Closer still. Moving towards her. She knew it, she saw it, and she felt it. And it was so, so real.
Finding her voice, she opened her eyes. “Tara!” she gasped.
“Honey?” the sleepy voice next to her floated upwards.
Willow was sitting up in bed, a sheen of sweat covering her forehead. Reaching out in the darkness she felt the familiar body beside her; a pair of hands clasping her own and holding on tight. As her eyes grew accustomed to the night, she looked across to see Tara, blinking in half-sleep, gazing at her in the bed that they shared night after night.
“Oh Tara,” Willow’s voice cracked as the sobs pressed against her throat, constricting her voice from uttering anything but nonsense. She let Tara draw her into her arms and put her head onto the other girl’s shoulder, breathing in the comforting scent of Tara’s perfume, emanating from the hollow at the base of her neck. Usually that would have been enough; it always had been in the past. But, Willow reminded herself, the past had been different. Now there was only the painful present, and an uncertain future which scared the redhead more than she cared to admit to anyone, including and perhaps, especially, Tara.
“Ssssh honey,” Tara’s hand reached up and smoothed down Willow’s back before reaching up to entwine itself in the damp strands of red lying against the back of Willow’s neck. She could feel the redhead sucking in mouthfuls of air, breathing hard, her pulse point pounding out a frightened rhythm on the side of her hand. Tara shifted forwards slightly, so that she could feel the closeness of Willow.
For weeks now, that was all they had to cling onto, a physical closeness. Nothing more. It was as though their senses had been numbed, anaesthetised by such pain and sorrow so that night after night, they had clutched each other as though drowning, the last vestiges of their stoic appearance gone, leaving only two scared girls who needed each other more than anything they had ever known. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Tara woke to see Willow tossing and turning in the grips of some terrible nightmare. When she woke, it was Tara who always held her close and tried to soothe away the fear. Only, the blonde realised, it wasn’t going away.
“Did you have the dream again?” Tara whispered, feeling Willow nod against her neck and sniff back a couple of stray tears. She turned her head, planting a kiss against the silky hair that tickled her cheek, not really knowing what to say. Words, it seemed, were useless between them. Besides, there had been enough talk. All they had done in the weeks following Buffy’s death was talk. Preparation, consultation, consolation…and it all seemed useless. It was all just talk. Willow tried to be strong, for Giles, for Dawn, for Xander, even for Anya. But the redhead herself cried almost every night, sometimes more. And it was all Tara could do to pick up the pieces as best she could.
Leaning back, Willow brushed the back of her hand underneath her nose and sniffed loudly again. A frown burrowed its way into her forehead and she looked down at the blankets, ruffled across her lap where she had kicked them into disarray.
“Tara, I don’t know what it means. I just don’t know.” Her voice was small and lonely. It struck a pang of fear into the blonde’s heart and she placed her palm against Willow’s cheek, feeling the wetness there that almost made her cry in sympathy.
“I know honey, we’ll…we’ll figure it out somehow though. I promise.” Her voice sounded a lot more confident than she felt, though.
A pair of green eyes glittered as moonlight from outside caught them in a glancing ray through the half-closed curtains. The silence between them echoed a coldness that had brought itself into their relationship. They had always been able to talk about anything; everything. But now, after Buffy’s death, it seemed like each girl had somehow retreated into herself even more, leaving a chasm that stretched wide and long. And Willow found herself falling into the blackness more often than not these days. Leadership had never been her strong point, she often thought to herself, but it had been thrust upon her now Buffy was gone. The memory of that brought fresh tears to her eyes and she dropped her gaze, ashamed to look at the woman who loved her more than anything in this world and the next.
“What if we can’t? I mean, what if I’m just supposed to have these dreams and live with them. I was meant to help her, I was meant to be there for her…” she trailed off miserably, knowing that this was a conversation they had had many times, in different ways. But the guilt was always the same.
“Sweetheart, there was nothing any of us could have done. It was Buffy’s choice. Her choice, Willow.” Tara’s voice was quietly firm, and her hand cupped Willow’s chin gently, raising it so that their eyes met. “She knows how much you loved her…how much you still love her. You have to believe that.”
Lifting her hand, Willow trailed a finger down Tara’s cheek, revelling in the softness and peace she felt from a single touch. Always; that was a word they used to one another in their quiet moments, but now it seemed that always might be until tomorrow, until next week, maybe not even that. She had sworn to be Buffy’s friend always. And yes, Slayers died young, everyone knew that. But Willow hadn’t expected Buffy’s demise to be so untimely, so painful, and so blatantly wrong.
“I’m trying,” she answered, seeing Tara’s eyes darken in the night to almost black. “I promise.”
“Okay, so let’s try to go back to sleep then, yes?” Tara lay back and pulled Willow down beside her. Putting her arm around the smaller girl, she wrapped her arms around the redhead, covering them both with the blanket. A sigh went through Willow as she laid her arm across Tara’s stomach and closed her eyes for a minute. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow,” Tara added softly, feeling Willow’s breathing finally calm down somewhat, “All that travelling, and then we’ve got a holiday together. Just what the doctor ordered.”
“Which doctor?” Willow mumbled sleepily, her eyes closing despite her fears; the nightmare now fading to a distant memory in her mind.
“This witch, doctor,” Tara smiled, planting a kiss on the top of Willow’s head before she too, closed her eyes and let sleep overtake her senses once more.
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Some miles away, the night offered quite a different atmosphere to another young woman. She stood overlooking the gardens at the hotel, looking but not seeing. Her eyes were fixed on a point too far away to be discernable to anyone but her. She had been standing there since sundown, but the creeping cold had barely registered on her body. Instead, she stood, arms folded against her chest, her jaw set in a firm line, her eyes luminous in the night.
The vampire crept up behind her so quietly that it was almost as if he too, were a ghost come to haunt her. As he neared the young woman, he felt her pain coming off her in waves, like the ceaseless movement of the ocean, ever restless, ever present and returning always, to fill her whole being with it. He wanted to reach out to her, but he knew the yearning she felt for something she could never have. He had felt it the moment the news had reached him of Buffy’s death. Replaying those moments in his mind right now, he felt once more the painful tug of his soul, reminding him of a love he would never quite reconcile with himself. She was gone, and he would spend the rest of his immortal life grieving for her. He had accepted that weeks ago. But, he sighed; it didn’t make it any easier.
His gaze drifted back towards the young woman in front of him. She had loved and lost, he thought suddenly. She had loved so deeply for once in her life; had let go and given herself up to it. He knew all of this. But knowing didn’t ease the anguish that had silenced her for days at a time. Knowing hadn’t stopped her from disappearing for almost a week, only to return with blood on her clothes and a wild look in her eyes. Where she had gone, none of them knew, not even Cordelia, who spent most of her time with Faith these days. She had just gone. But she had come back. And, Angel reminded himself, that was the most important thing.
“Can’t sleep?” he said softly, his voice sounding loud in the stillness of the night.
Faith’s head jerked at the sound of his voice, but she didn’t turn around, instead shrugging a response with her shoulders. She shifted slightly as he moved closer, wanting to reach out to her, but knowing that she’d never let him.
“It gets so quiet here at night, sometimes I think this place is an oasis in the city,” he observed, his eyes reaching down the gardens towards the boundary wall beyond.
“An oasis, huh?” Finally she spoke, her voice low and gravelled by the tears rolling down her cheeks. She hated letting anyone see her cry. An admission of pain, of hurt, was like anathema to her. The only person who had ever made her feel like she could cry in front of them was gone. And now, she sighed raggedly, she wasn’t sure if she could let anyone see her like that again.
“Somewhere to think, somewhere to be alone.”
Sniffing, she rubbed fiercely at her eyes with the back of her hand and finally turned round, thankful that the darkness hid the redness of her face. She sat down on the low wall, reaching inside her jacket pocket for her cigarettes and lighter. Squinting as the flame blinded her momentarily, she sucked hard on the cigarette, watching smoke plume up into the night sky and then disappear to nothing.
“Well I am alone, aren’t I?” Her voice was hardened somehow, pushing Angel back with its tone. He frowned slightly and sat down beside her.
“Not while you’re here. You have Cordelia, she’s worried about you.”
Faith let out a snort of laughter and lifted the cigarette to her mouth once more, shaking her head. She cast a glance towards the concerned face of the vampire sitting next to her and shook her head, “Naah, I didn’t mean her. She’s always worried about somethin’, I guess I lucked out this week.” A tiny smile of affection curved her lips for a second before she looked down at the floor again. “I meant me, I’m alone. The only one. I’m the only one left, Angel.”
“The Chosen One.” He knew what she was talking about.
“Yeah,” Faith nodded, flicking ash onto the concrete below her feet. “She was the only one who knew what it was like…to be me. To be a Slayer. And now I’m alone.”
“Faith, it will get better – “ Angel began, but was cut off by a dismissive wave of Faith’s hand.
“So you say. So everyone says. Just give it time. That’s right, huh?” Faith’s voice grew in intensity as she felt the tears pricking the back of her eyes again. “You know what? I don’t wanna wait. I want it to be better now. Cuz I sure as hell don’t wanna carry on feeling like shit for not doing something, for not being there. I mean fuck, why her? Why not me? Nobody would miss me; I coulda gone there and done what she did and it wouldn’t have mattered. And I would, Angel, I really would…” her voice faltered as she tried to shake off the tears and failed.
“I know how much you cared about her Faith,” Angel said quietly. “Because I felt it too. And so did she. That’s what’s important. So did she.”
“She was everything. I would have done anything for her.” Faith whispered. “And I never told her.”
Now Angel moved, shifting closer to her and putting his arm around her shoulders, feeling the deceptive slightness of her body as she almost collapsed against him. He sat patiently whilst she sobbed against his shoulder and let the night take her pain, engulfing it in a blanket that deadened everything. Raising his eyes, he gazed at the moon, clear and bright in the sky, looking down upon the two of them, huddled together on the wall. And he hoped that Buffy could see.
Part 2
“Are you sure Miss Kitty won’t miss us too much? I mean, last summer we went off to England and now we’re going away again. I worry about her.” Willow’s face acquired the cutest frown Tara thought she had ever seen, and she couldn’t help smiling at her girlfriend as they settled back into their seats on the plane. She reached out and grasped Willow’s hand, turning the frown into a soft smile, which pleased her even more.
“She’ll be fine. Anya promised to feed her regularly and look after her as if she were her own.” Tara answered.
That only made Willow frown again. “I’m not sure that makes me feel better, I mean, Anya? We’d have been better off putting her in a cattery for the holidays.”
“Hey,” Tara squeezed Willow’s fingers, “If Miss Kitty can survive having the windows ripped out of her room, then I’m sure she can survive a few weeks with Anya. Besides, have you noticed that ever since she and Xander got engaged, she’s gone all maternal about stuff? I think someone’s jonesing for a baby.”
“Oh god,” Willow shuddered dramatically, and not all of it was a pretence. “Anya having a baby, I mean, is that a good idea? She’s hardly like, mom material is she? Besides, bringing a child into the world is just…” she stopped herself, not wanting to even consider new life anymore. Leaning her head back against the seat, she carefully avoided Tara’s enquiring gaze and closed her eyes.
“Just what?” Tara’s voice reached her, the questioning tone unmistakeable. Tara knew exactly what she meant; they had talked about this before. Willow had often felt as though going on was pointless. Living, dying, being born, it was all just a huge mistake sometimes. It was a joke that the gods were playing for their own amusement. The Powers That Be had a lot to answer for, in Willow’s mind, and she wasn’t going to let them forget it if she ever got the chance.
Watching Willow turn away from her sent a chill down Tara’s spine. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, and she was sure it wouldn’t be the last. They always talked about everything, but lately, barriers were closing her off from understanding her lover. It was as though Willow went so far then hit a brick wall and retreated back inside herself. Tara knew what that felt like; unhappy memories of her own mother’s death often returned to haunt her. And despite the love she still felt for her mother, a tiny part of her blamed her for leaving her alone. It was as though the rug had been pulled out from underneath her, leaving her floundering for explanations and sense. But nothing made sense when it came to death, she thought sadly, it was senseless and pointless and cruel to the ones left behind.
“Willow? Honey?” she leant forward again, hoping to elicit some response from the redhead.
“Tara…” Willow opened her eyes and looked sadly across at her girlfriend. How to find the words? She wasn’t sure she wanted to. She’d always been able to rationalise everything; always tried to find an answer to the problem. That was what she did, right? She found answers and solutions. That’s why she was so clever. That was her job. At least, it had been with Buffy. But now, it seemed as though there were no answers, nowhere to place the blame or the questioning. And it was so tiring, looking all the time and finding nothing. Sometimes, the redhead mused, looking into Tara’s eyes, sometimes she just wanted out. To run away and leave everything behind.
“Willow, you know, life has to go on,” Tara urged softly.
“Why?” Willow’s mouth drew itself into a flat line, and Tara sat back in her chair, letting go of the other girl’s hand. “Why, Tara? What’s the point? Everyone dies sometime. So you just sit around waiting for it to happen, doing what you can, fighting the good fight,” her voice took on a bitter tone. Walls built themselves quickly around her.
“You’re not the only one who lost her,” Tara whispered, thinking of her mother. Her eyes dropped to her lap where her fingers twisted nervously against themselves, her hair falling forward to cover her face.
“I know but…” Willow began, before she realised that she couldn’t express this to anyone. Not even to herself. It just didn’t make sense. Glancing across at Tara, she felt anger bubble up in her stomach and didn’t know why. It scared her sometimes, just how much rage she felt and what it could do. If Tara only knew…the darkness beckoned her so much these days that it was sometimes all she could do to stay away from it, never mind be strong for herself and everyone around her.
“No, it’s okay. Really,” Tara muttered, her voice acquiring some of the timbre she had grown used to in defeat. Her father, her brother, her whole family had browbeaten her back into herself. And she never resisted because it was just too painful for her. “I understand h-how you feel and if you w-want to talk about it then you will.” She bit her lip and cursed herself inwardly for allowing her stammer to surface. Blushing, she looked away, down the plane to where the stewardesses were preparing food.
“It’s not you, Tara. Please…it’s not you.” Willow took the blonde girl’s hand in her own, panic rising in the back of her throat. Upsetting Tara was the last thing she ever wanted to do, but confusion and anger never made comfortable bedfellows and all the time she felt like she was forcing herself to put on a good show for the benefit of others. “I do want to talk about it but, I just can’t right now. I don’t know when I will. But I promise you’ll be the first person I come to,” she brushed her thumb over the back of Tara’s hand, feeling the other girl close her fingers around her own.
“I’m scared, Willow. I’m scared for us.” Tara said simply.
“I know honey, me too. But that’s why we took this holiday, right? To get away from all things hellmouthy for a while and just be us.” Willow let out a sigh, feeling like the hellmouth would probably follow them wherever they went. She wondered if this was the burden Buffy felt; if this was the choice she had made. “I just want to enjoy this time with you,” she added, leaning towards Tara.
The blonde lifted her head and offered a tiny smile to the redhead, although it never quite reached her eyes. The twin pools of blue fixed themselves sadly on Willow as she settled herself back into her seat, closing her eyes again, feigning sleep. As she watched her, Tara felt a deep sense of sorrow settle onto her chest and place its cold hands around her heart, grasping firmly. She knew only too well how hope could live and die in a single heartbeat, offering no recompense to those who were left behind.
Closing her eyes, she recalled seeing Buffy’s body. She and Willow had held onto one another at that moment, and it seemed like they had never let go. No words, no voices, just clutching onto what seemed like reality, when all else around them crashed to the ground and shattered into pieces. She wasn’t sure that any of them had been able to make sense of what happened yet, or if they ever would. She still grieved for her mother, even after three years. The pain might lessen but the memory never did, which was why she and Willow had planned this holiday to Ireland, in the hopes that they could create new memories for themselves.
She glanced across at Willow again, taking in the fragile body and pale features of the woman she loved. Tara wondered if it was true that, if people were inextricably bound up in one another, when one of them died, they took some essence of everyone who touched their life with them. If that was the case, then Willow was missing the one thing that was hers alone; her bond to the Slayer. Sighing, Tara wished she could magick up something to help fill that space. Willow seemed very lost and alone these days, as though she was looking for something although she knew she would never find it. In the weeks following her mother’s death, Tara had searched endlessly for some kind of meaning to it all and had found none. She guessed that Willow was still looking.
Reaching over, she touched the other girl’s hand gently, letting out a breath of contentment as Willow’s fingers curled around her own and held on tight. For now, that was all they could do.
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Cordelia looked up from the paper she was pretending to read and watched as Faith pushed food around her plate with a fork. She had made a nice breakfast for the third week running, wanting to make sure that Faith at least got some nutrition inside her before a hard day’s slaying…or whatever it was she did when she left the hotel. The week Faith had disappeared; Cordy had felt something close to real dread for the first time in her life. Caring about someone really took it out of you, she thought wryly, fixing Faith with a gimlet gaze and pursing her lips.
“Stop starin’ at me,” Faith said, feeling rather than seeing Cordy’s eyes on her.
“Well you’ve eaten next to nothing, and I scrambled those eggs on purpose.”
Faith turned and, despite herself, grinned over at the perfect features of the woman beside her at the table, “As opposed to what, doing it by mistake?”
Rolling her eyes, Cordy folded the paper and placed it onto the table beside her own empty plate. “You haven’t seen my cooking,” she murmured, a faint blush rising in her cheeks as it always did when Faith looked at her like that. She had grown quite used to the other girl being around, in fact, she had come to rely upon it in some ways. It was different, being with Faith. But nice different, she reminded herself. Never quite able to come to terms with her attraction, there had never been anything physical between the two of them, but they shared something, that was for sure. And it was growing steadily, day-by-day into a feeling that Cordy was beginning to enjoy. Really enjoy.
“Sorry about the food, but I’m really not hungry,” Faith leant back in her chair and pushed the plate away from her. She shot what she hoped was an apologetic look at Cordelia and folded her arms across her chest, stretching out her legs underneath the table, where they collided with Cordelia’s.
Cordy shifted her legs away from the contact. It wasn’t like she didn’t want Faith to touch her; it was just…it was just… She shook her head, getting angry with herself. If only she could have the courage of her convictions like Faith appeared to these days. She knew what she wanted, she knew what she needed. Why was it so hard for her to accept that too?
“Faith…” she began, leaning her elbows onto the table.
“Cordy…” Faith’s eyes lazily flicked across to her and looked her up and down. Cordelia felt herself blush again and coughed to hide it, knowing that Faith was well aware of the effect she was having on her these days.
“You…ah…you’ll get hungry later if you don’t eat now,” she finished lamely, cursing herself for not being more forthright.
“Me? Hey, I can survive the whole day on hardly anything,” Faith said proudly. “Comes from a bad background.”
“Things change.”
Faith let out a snort of laughter, “Sure, things change. Like how? I was alone then and I’m alone now.” Her mirth fell from her face and she frowned, looking down at her arms. “Gets kinda repetitive after a while.”
“You have me…I mean, us. You have us. Friends.” Cordelia almost stuttered the words out, a desperate feeling to say something other than what was actually coming out of her mouth.
“Huh?” Faith jerked out of her reverie and looked over at Cordy, sensing the anxiety in the other girl’s voice. She nodded, “Yeah, I know. It’s not that I’m not grateful, I mean, you guys have been the best. Sure you have. But I guess I’m kinda reflective. Must be goin’ soft or somethin’.” She shook her head dismissively, “Boy, B sure woulda had a field day with me right now.”
“She would have been proud of you, Faith.” Cordelia said softly, her heart aching at the expression that was flitting across Faith’s face. So much pain, so much sorrow, and nowhere to put any of it.
“I want to make her…I always did. You know? Wanted her to know how much I…” Faith’s faltering speech was brought to an abrupt end as she pushed the chair back from the table, the legs scraping loudly across the floor, and stood up, almost ashamed of her show of emotion. “So that’s why I’m goin’ back.”
Cordelia frowned and leant back in her chair, her eyes narrowing. “Going back where, exactly?”
“To Sunnydale.”
Before Cordy could regain some kind of hold of her sense to give what was surely going to be a long diatribe on why that wasn’t such a great idea in the great scheme of things, another figure entered the kitchen and walked over the table. Angel picked up the paper and shook it open, his eyes flicking between Faith and Cordy, confusion slowly gathering on his face.
“Who’s going to Sunnydale?” he finally asked, catching the tail end of their conversation.
Faith straightened up and looked them both in the eye, making sure that there was no room for argument on this. She didn’t want any more strife, she just wanted to make things right. This was her shot, it was her time, it was her destiny.
“I am.”
Part 3
Angel looked from Faith, to Cordelia, then back to Faith again. The dark Slayer was shifting from foot to foot, her nerves palpable in the relative darkness of the kitchen. The vampire frowned to himself for a second, then sat down at the table, reaching for the jug of orange juice in front of him, pouring a glass and then staring at it, remembering that he didn’t actually drink orange juice in the morning.
“Angel!” Cordelia prompted him, wringing her hands together in despair. She could hardly bear to look at Faith, all stoic and determined. She’d seen that look on the other girl’s face before and it didn’t mean happy clappy times at all. Sometimes it infuriated her that Faith was like a big dumb old rock, immovable once she’d made up her mind. But mostly, it scared her when Faith got so single minded about stuff, especially stuff like heading off back to Sunnyhell. That place had never been any good, and no good would come of this, she was sure.
The vampire looked at Cordelia, acceptance painted across his face. “What?” he shrugged. “I can’t stop her if she wants to go.”
Faith flashed a triumphant smile across at Cordelia, whose face contorted into an expression of even more anguish.
“Although Faith, I have to say, you’ve had some pretty bad ideas in your time and this…well,” he folded his arms across his broad chest, “this pretty much beats them all hands down.”
The smile fell from Faith’s face as though someone had wiped it clean off. She frowned, and her arms dropped to hang limply by her sides. Listening to Angel was one of the things she did best; hell, he was practically the only person she did listen to. Above, beyond and apart from everyone else.
Now it was Cordelia’s turn to flash a triumphant smile. Only, judging from the expression on Faith’s face, it wasn’t the wisest thing to do. The dark Slayer scowled across at her and Cordy could swear that she heard a low growl to accompany the glance. She sat back in her chair as though reeling from a blow and decided to shut up. No mean feat for her.
“Angel you don’t understand – “ Faith began, but Angel cut her off.
“No Faith, I do understand. I understand perfectly. But don’t you see? Buffy’s gone. She’s gone.” His voice was flat and toneless, stating the facts that cut into Faith like a sharp blade, slicing through her bravado right down to the bone, and beyond. She felt her head sink onto her chest, looking down at the floor.
“I. Know. That.” Her voice came through gritted teeth as the old anger and pain surged briefly through her veins.
“What is going back to Sunnydale meant to achieve? What are you going to do for those people?” Angel didn’t intend to sound as cruel as his words indicated, but he knew that sometime, Faith was going to have to deal with this.
“I’m going to be the Slayer.” Faith’s head came up off her chest and her eyes glittered sienna brown as she looked at the vampire. She reached up and shoved the hair back from her face, for a second assuming the old cocky role she played so well. “I’m gonna do what I was meant to do all along.”
“Faith,” Cordelia’s voice drew the Slayer’s attention, “You’re not her. You can’t be her. You can only be you.” Her eyes pleaded with the Slayer’s hoping that she would at least hear something of what she had to say.
“Got news for you Prom Queen,” Faith pretended not to notice how Cordy flinched at the old nickname she used for her, knowing how much it rankled, “Maybe being me isn’t good enough. Maybe I got one last chance to prove that I can do this. To them. All of them.” She turned her gaze back to Angel, who was listening to her impassively, and drew a short breath. “I just want to do this Angel. And you know you can’t stop me. You know it.”
For a minute he locked his eyes with hers, communicating a whole lot more in one gaze than he had just done with words. In a way, he understood the exorcism she was going through. Ghosts of the past, he thought, how they returned to haunt us all, in one way or another. He nodded briefly, ignoring Cordelia’s gasp of despair as Faith returned his gesture with a curt nod, before leaving the room.
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Tara’s patience was wearing thin. She was aware of Willow’s aim to please as she became increasingly agitated by the constant shuffling of people around her and their annoying chatter. They had landed in England, where Willow had excitedly told her they would take the train cross-country to the sea port in order to sail across to Ireland. When Tara had suggested that she was sure Ireland had an airport somewhere too, Willow had pooh-poohed the idea, insisting that this was all one big adventure. But somehow, that adventure had all gone horribly wrong when the train they were on to Holyhead, Wales, had been delayed in the middle of nowhere.
The train carriage was becoming hot and uncomfortable, and Tara was already overtired from the flight. Sitting next to Willow, she craned her neck to see out of the window. Fields. And yet more fields. For such a small country, England sure had a lot of fields, she thought irritably to herself.
Her loud sigh alerted her girlfriend to the fact that all was not well in Taraland. Concernedly, Willow rummaged in her backpack and pulled out a crumpled bag of candy that had been at its best when leaving Sunnydale. Now it just resembled something that had been crushed in a hot sticky bag for several long hours. “Candy?” she held out the bag to Tara, who fixed it with a distinct look of distaste before shaking her head. Willow looked so disconsolate that Tara couldn’t help grinning.
Leaning over to the redhead, she pretended to look out of the window whilst sliding her hand over Willow’s, running her fingertips over the back of the other girl’s hand. The redhead shivered slightly and turned so that her mouth was at Tara’s ear, where she whispered her love in a near silent voice.
“I love you too,” Tara murmured, her fingertips following an endless trail over Willow’s knuckles, reaching down to the ends of her fingers, then back up to her hand again. “In fact,” her voice dropped a few levels, sending yet another shiver down Willow’s spine, “I love you so much, I’ll even eat one of your horrid candies.”
Willow giggled. “Well maybe I’ve got something else sweet for you instead,” she teased, adoring the wide-eyed response from her girlfriend, followed by a deep blue gaze of desire that flickered through Tara’s eyes.
“Oh do tell…” Tara sniggered, leaning in closer to plant a kiss on Willow’s half parted lips, so close to her.
She had almost reached her goal when the train jerked to start again, making both of them jump, then laugh at their own foolishness. They had to agree, it kind of startled them both out of the mood somewhat, as now they were able to watch the scenery as they liked it best; in motion. Tara settled instead for leaning companionably against Willow as the other girl reached down and took her hand in her own, their fingers intertwining with one another’s.
“Thank goodness for that,” Willow exclaimed, her eyes reflecting the houses that were now flashing by at some pace, “The natives were getting restless. I thought that woman down there was going to lynch the conductor when he came through.”
Tara rested her head on Willow’s shoulder, “The natives are pretty clueless if you ask me. That woman asked the same question five times and still got no answer. I mean, what kind of a country is this anyway?” she grumbled, “Honestly Willow, could you make this journey any more complicated?”
Sitting back, Willow gazed sadly into her girlfriend’s eyes, obviously hurt by Tara’s blithe comment. “You don’t like this?” she asked, her voice taking on an almost childlike tone. “I just thought…you know, public transport would be kinda fun. Obviously in a not very fun kinda way…” she sighed, “I’m not doing a great job of this am I?”
“No honey…it’s not you,” Tara tugged Willow back towards her again, her fingers grabbing onto the other girl’s sweater. “I’m a bad traveller, always have been. I just want to get there. And I want to be alone with you.” She gave emphasis to the last sentence on purpose, wiggling her eyebrows to make Willow laugh. Luckily she did. Nice save, Maclay, Tara told herself, sighing inwardly. This was probably going to be a long holiday. Whether it would be long enough though, to assuage the guilt that they were both hiding from one another, only time would tell. Still, Tara tried to look on the bright side; they would be together, just the two of them. How bad could it possibly be?
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“So you’re really going then?” Cordelia’s voice halted Faith as the dark Slayer heaved a bag onto her shoulder and made her way across the hotel foyer. Without looking back, Faith shrugged, letting the bag fall from her grasp.
“Yeah, I’m going.” She didn’t want any big goodbyes. She’d already said her farewells to Angel, asking for his advice. The only thing he had said to her was that she should be careful. Of what, or whom, he hadn’t elaborated on. Typical vampire, Faith grumbled to herself. Typical Angel, in fact. One day he’d maybe learn to talk in something other than riddles and then she’d get what he said most of the time. Second-guessing wasn’t her strong point; in fact, she smiled wryly to herself, first time guessing wasn’t her strong point either. But he hadn’t told her not to go, which, she supposed wasn’t such a bad thing.
“And I don’t suppose you thought to say goodbye to me?” Cordelia was right behind Faith now, her voice close and horribly personal. For a second, Faith thought she might turn around and beg Cordy to make her stay. But it was just for a second. By the time she had spun around and faced the other girl, she knew that it was time to leave.
A pair of luminous eyes met her own, laced with what looked like sorrow, or even tears. A nagging feeling in Faith’s gut warned her about feelings, about how they fucked you up, about how they got inside you and never let go. But, no matter how she tried to switch them off, one look from Cordy was all it usually took to turn them right back on again.
“Uh…goodbye?” Faith almost winced at the expression of hurt flitting over Cordy’s face, and wished she could take back the distinctly flippant manner in which she had spoken. She wished she could face up to this, up to what had been happening in her head and between them for a while now. But she also knew that as long as Buffy’s ghost was still hanging constantly at her back, she would never feel free to love anyone else. She stopped suddenly. Love? Where the hell did that come from? She didn’t love Prom Queen any more than Cordelia loved her. Stupid talk, she chided herself. Stupid thoughts. Stop thinking.
“Fine then, have a nice life.” Cordelia said haltingly, her body rigid with emotion as she closed her eyes just once, shutting out the last sight of Faith she thought she would ever have. She turned to walk away, something she knew she should have done that first night Faith showed up with Angel, when a hand caught her wrist and stopped her.
“Hey,” Faith said softly, moving forward to pull Cordelia towards her, “I won’t be gone forever.” She tilted her head to one side and gave Cordy her famous lopsided grin, “I’m gonna get to you if it kills me, so I kinda have to come back sometime, don’t I?”
Cordelia wanted to laugh, wanted to come back with some witty retort, but, standing almost eye-to-eye with Faith, she found she was unable to. Instead, she felt as though she was swimming helplessly in twin pools of deep brown, softly engaging her own gaze as if for the first time. She realised that her heart was pounding quite unreasonably in her chest, and a myriad of things she should have said flew through her brain at lightning speed, whilst she was quite, quite speechless.
“You make sure you keep Wes and the guys in line for me, okay?” Faith said, squeezing Cordy’s hand in her own. Cordelia nodded dumbly, a tiny frown forming between her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “And say bye to Dennis for me.” Faith added, “Dumb old ghost. Make sure he looks after you.” She let go of Cordy’s hand and for a fleeting moment, pressed her palm against the other girl’s cheek, letting it rest there briefly before moving away again to pick up her bag.
As she watched Faith walk slowly up the stairs towards the doorway, Cordelia felt a sense of panic rise inside her. What if this was it? What if this was the last time she ever got the chance to…to what? Not even she knew. All she knew was that this girl was walking out of the hotel any second and she’d never even said a word about how she felt.
“Faith!” The word left her lips in a cry of anguish, startling even herself. The dark Slayer stopped and turned slowly, the question in her eyes reaching Cordy and holding her gaze. “Take care,” Cordelia said slowly, treasuring every word, every second she had with her now, “If anything happened…I mean, if you…” she trailed off, angry at herself that she couldn’t put into words what was thumping away inside her head.
Faith grinned, her lopsided smile touching Cordy with true warmth and gratitude, and affection. “I know,” she said simply, “Tell me when I get back.” Hitching her bag further up onto her shoulder, she reached the top of the stairs, opened the door and then left.
Part 4
The journey from Holyhead to Dun Laoghaire was a relatively short one, thanks to the renowned Sea Cat that ran regularly across the Irish Sea. Like a floating hotel, it offered passengers the opportunity to play games, watch videos, eat, drink and generally make merry. Willow had chosen the night sailing so that she and Tara would have some opportunity, at least, to cope with jetlag, although neither girl seemed inclined to suffer as of yet. In fact, their first experiences had been kind of fun, pulling out of the dock and watching as the many smokers practically raced one another to the platform at the stern in order to up their nicotine levels even further. The two girls had giggled at some of the passengers, cranky children, complaining elderly couples and over amorous groups of young men, obviously on their way to break many a heart and quite possibly jaw, in Ireland.
They sat, huddled together on one of the benches near the stern platform, waiting for their opportunity to step outside and watch as they came into dock. For a couple of hours at least, they forgot who they were and where they had come from. For a couple of hours they were just two girls in love who liked being with one another. And it felt great. Willow wasn’t sure if she’d let Tara’s hand go once during the whole journey, and that felt pretty great too. It was easy to find the physical contact between them; easy to just sit and not talk. It was one of the things she loved most about Tara, the companionable silence they had acquired. Nothing was awkward when her skin was on Tara’s, and it felt like nothing mattered in those precious moments either.
An announcement on all decks informed them that they would soon be arriving at Dun Laoghaire. From there, they would travel on by train again to their final destination. But for now, it was approaching 6.30am, and the sun was almost up. Through the huge double doors at the stern, they could see a faint pinkish glow where the sky hit the sea on the horizon and it pulled them outside onto the viewing platform.
There were only a few other people out on the platform, the cold being one of the big deterrents to most tourists. Willow pulled her coat more firmly around her and was thankful when Tara slid her arms in an embrace round her body. Pulling Willow back against her chest, Tara rested her chin on Willow’s shoulder and they gazed out to sea, where a white trail showed their path across the ocean. The sound of the ship’s engines was almost drowned under a constant rushing of water as it churned and rumbled below their feet. High above, a few expectant seagulls wheeled and turned, following the ship on its course, hopeful for a few stray titbits of food, crying out occasionally as if to remind people of their mere existence.
Willow leaned back against Tara, feeling the warmth at her back and the comforting scent of her girlfriend mix evocatively with the salty smell in her nose, and the taste of the sea air on her tongue. She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes briefly and letting the smile of pure contentment spread across her lips.
Tara was watching the sun struggle up from where it seemed trapped in the water. Strands of clouds were being lit from below; their translucency taking on the colour of the sky, a blend of deep blues and amber pinks. She thought she had never seen anything quite as beautiful as the morning sun, rising out of the water to illuminate their faces with a vague yellow warmth that neither of them felt quite yet.
“See that? Isn’t it beautiful?” Tara whispered into Willow’s ear, her breath tickling against the other girl’s neck.
Willow opened her eyes and smiled, her hands trailing down to grasp Tara’s as they joined over her stomach. “It’s so lovely,” she said, her voice caught by the wind and danced away across the waves. “So peaceful. Why can’t every day be like this?”
Tara nuzzled into Willow’s neck and kissed her gently in that spot she so loved, just below the redhead’s ear. She looked up to see the sky immediately around the sun glow red and fiery, as though this was the first day of forever. “With you love, every day is like today. Every day is like now.”
“That’s so nice,” Willow squeezed Tara’s hands gently and sighed, her whole body moving up and down with the exhalation. Although the wind was quite chilly, she suddenly didn’t feel cold anymore. A warmth spread throughout her being, almost as though she was feeling love for the first time, feeling this for the first time. Turning, she spun around in Tara’s arms and looked up into the blue eyes that reflected the purity of the awakening sky around them. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered into Tara’s mouth, her own lips almost touching Tara’s own. “I don’t want to be without you,” she added, her voice almost a plea, a prayer, a reckoning.
“Oh love, you don’t have to be. I’m not going anywhere without you,” Tara answered, bringing her head down to press her lips briefly against Willow’s. The kiss echoed her sentiments, warming Willow’s cold mouth, bringing heat to her chilled body, bathing it in the light of Tara’s love.
Willow smiled and twisted around in Tara’s arms, and the two of them watched the sun rise on a newer day together.
Part 5
The jangle of the doorbell brought Giles up from behind the counter where he was stacking copies of a new book that was cunningly entitled ‘Teach Yourself Witchcraft’. A mere glance through it told him that it was less than useless, but he guessed that it would be a seller, mainly because it appeared that most people in Sunnydale fancied themselves as would-be witches. Well, he justified it to himself, it wasn’t exactly encouraging the occult, more guiding people away from it. He supposed in an odd way that congratulations were probably due. Another generation diverted from misuse of the black arts.
His thoughts naturally turned to Willow. Poor girl. When she and Tara had left for their holiday, Giles had been given the suspicion that he might not see her again. The fatigue with which she said goodbye; the dead look in her eyes; it had made his heart sink in realisation that death took its toll on everyone, in one way or another. Rarely had he seen a young woman so hopeless, with so little faith left in herself or in others. It reminded him of the way Buffy had been just before she…
His gaze flickered towards the door as attempted (and failed) to dispel the memory. But how could he? The one girl in all the world who had acted like, and for all purposes, felt like his own. And she was gone. He couldn’t imagine hurting more if it had been his own child that he had lost. He sighed a little to himself, realising that he’d done a lot of that lately. And for every sigh, there was a little more painful realisation that this time, she wasn’t coming back.
The figure who had walked through the door captured his attention once more as she moved further into the shop. As his eyes travelled upwards from heavy boots, up leather clad legs onto a denim jacket and a top that barely covered the girl’s navel, his heart leapt and sank all at once.
The girl approached the counter, watching with interest the expressions flying across the older man’s face. She tried a smile. A nice, casual smile of greeting. From the way his expression changed, she guessed it had come out more of a grimace. Faith groaned inwardly. She knew that seeing him again after just running out on Buffy would be hard, but from the way he was now removing his glasses and wiping furiously at the lenses, she was guessing it was pretty cataclysmic. And hey, who knew that word would pop right into her head at the moment she needed it least?
“Giles,” she said, drawing to a halt, her heavy boots thudding together on the wooden floor.
“Ah…Faith,” he answered, replacing his glasses and tugging nervously at his tie.
“Don’t overwhelm me with the emotional reunion there,” she half-joked. The tension in the air was almost stifling her. She felt it resting on her shoulders, like the weight of the world had been suddenly passed to her in some kind of mystical relay match. And all she wanted to do was run and run and run. Her teeth came out to bite at her bottom lip as she watched Giles come round the counter and stand in front of her. He was looking old, she thought, observing the crinkles around his eyes. He looked tired too. She guessed it had been hardest on him maybe, being Buffy’s Watcher and all. A faint sliver of her own Watcher crept into her mind and she pushed it away. Not now. Deal later. Not now though.
Giles looked at the girl in front of him, still the same old Faith stance, but something had changed. He knew that the last time they had met. But something else…as though she was filled with some higher purpose. Not just on the road to redemption but the road to another place. Forgiveness? Truth? All these things he knew Buffy had sought constantly in her need to find out her place in the world as a Slayer. But Faith had never expressed an interest in that sort of journey. Looking into her eyes for a brief moment, he saw a glimmer of emotion, of sadness, of a pain he had experienced only once in his life. After Jenny.
“Faith, dear girl,” he said, his voice choking as he reached out to her and pulled her roughly to him, his veneer slipping away. For a moment it seemed as though she was going to resist his embrace, but then he felt her arms grip him tightly and they held onto one another as though there was nothing else left for a long moment.
Pushing herself away, Faith rubbed fiercely at her eyes, trying to stop the tears. She coughed and looked down at the floor, where her boots were scuffing along the parquet covering. “I had to come,” she said simply. “I’m sorry…for you and uh…stuff.” Pursing her lips, she frowned. This had always been so hard for her, and never more than now.
“It was unavoidable,” Giles ushered her over to the large round table where they had once sat and held Scooby meetings with Buffy. The place resonated with her, there was no getting away from it. He had not been near the training room for a week, hardly wanting to feel her in every breath of air he took and exhaled. “It was a terrible, awful tragedy, but quite unavoidable. I believe the Watcher’s Council took it quite well, killed in the line of duty, they said.” His tone was flat, carrying none of the sentiment he truly felt.
“Nice,” Faith sat back in one of the chairs and slung her leg over the arm, in an attempt to appear casual. “Watcher’s fuckin’ Council. Do they have any idea what they’re talking about? Who they’re talking about?” she spat.
A tiny smile formed at the corners of Giles’ mouth and he eyed Faith carefully. For some reason, he was quite glad to hear her expletives and her attitude. It was something he had missed. “Succint as always, Faith,” he said softly. She looked up at him and nodded, shrugging off his subtle compliment, like she always did, with everyone. She figured she didn’t deserve them, so when people stopped giving them, tired of having her push them away, she found that she kind of missed it. But she would never admit that. Not even now, here, to Giles. She avoided meeting his eyes and leant back in the chair.
“Look, I’m here to help. Do what I can. Now B…now she’s not here, I just thought I could do something,” she pushed at her hair, flicking it back over her shoulder. “Anything, really.”
“Much as I appreciate the sentiment, Faith, it’s not really clear on what the Watcher’s Council intends to do about the Slayer. I know there’s you,” he gestured towards her with his finger, “and your offer is very kind. But we’ve been without a Slayer before and I suppose we are again. I’m really not clear on how this works.” He shook his head at some problem that had sprung up in his mind, pursing his lips thoughtfully, before taking a short breath. “It appears that demonic activity has hit an all time low. Perhaps it’s something to do with opening the portal, I’m not sure. But we manage, between us. Of course, Willow does the majority of the – “
“Willow! Is she here? And Tara?” Faith became animated at the mention of her friends, sitting up in the chair.
“Ah. They didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
Giles removed his glasses and wiped at them again, taking the yellow cloth from his jacket pocket and quite deliberately taking his time. “They’ve gone on holiday.”
“So they’re coming back, right?” Faith heard the worried tone in his voice and it struck a fear in her own senses. “What, two weeks, three? I can wait.”
“I’m not sure how long,” Giles said, tapping his glasses against his cheek, avoiding her deep brown gaze for as long as he could. “Faith, Willow is dreadfully grief stricken. I’ve never seen her like this. From the way she was talking I’m rather under the impression that she’s not altogether bothered if she never sees Sunnydale again. Naturally, I can only hope that she does return. But these things…” he mused to himself for a second, “these things are never written in stone. She must find her own way back.”
“Bullshit!”
Giles eyes’ widened and he quickly retracted his appreciation of Faith’s ability to hit the nail on the head, then ram it home with alarming ferocity. He looked on, his mouth opening slightly as Faith shot up out of her chair and paced the floor.
“Faith, I really don’t see how this helps.”
“Oh don’t you? So you just let her go?” The dark Slayer turned and slammed her fists onto the table, making Giles jump. Her lip curled as she stared at him, “What the fuck is wrong with you all? Have you all just given up? Is that it? Buffy’s gone so we all die with her?” She couldn’t fail to notice the way Giles flinched at the sound of Buffy’s name. Hell, she felt her own gut crawling with the knowledge her mind kept throwing back at her. But she had to cling onto it and claw her own way back up. She had to.
“Faith,” Giles pushed his glasses back onto his nose and stared at her like a child who fails to understand a simple concept, “Things aren’t the same here anymore. Willow can’t assume the role that Buffy had, she must follow her own path, just as Buffy did.”
Taking her hands off the table, Faith paced backwards and forwards on the floor in front of Giles, her arms flinging this way and that as she muttered to herself. Finally she stopped and turned, looking right at him, her hands planted firmly onto her hips. “Look, she’s the best you got right now. And what about the Scoobies? I thought you guys were fighting the good fight, with or without a Slayer.”
A short laugh came from Giles as she shook his head. “Faith you don’t understand. Willow wasn’t born to this as you were, as Buffy is…was,” he corrected himself sadly, “This isn’t her birthright. She’s a human. Not a Slayer. And the rest of us…” he looked away sadly, “Xander and Anya are following their own paths too now.”
“Right,” Faith leant back a little, her eyes flashing fire, her face set grimly, “So you just all go on your merry way, never mind that Buffy died for you all. For everyone. But that’s okay,” her voice dripped with sarcasm, “’cos, you know, you’ve got every right to just give up. And you let every demon you ever met, every hellgod, every vampire…you let them win.” A look of disgust crossed her face, pulling her mouth downwards, “That’s the human thing to do.”
Giles shot up from his chair, his face set in a grim mask of anger, his eyes hard and bright behind his glasses. “Don’t you dare tell me about sacrifice!” he hissed, “Don’t you dare come in here and lecture me on what’s right and wrong.” He pointed his finger at her, jabbing the syllables out in his words, “You weren’t there!”
Silence roared in Faith’s ears like the blood of so many victims washing through her veins. She almost reeled from Giles’ attack, wanting to turn and run, as she had done so often before. Only the memory of another Slayer kept her feet still, locked in a position, facing Giles in a standoff neither of them really wanted.
“I’m here now.” Her words were soft and submissive as she looked directly at him, their eyes meeting across the table. Giles blinked slowly, then sank back into his chair, his hands shaking as he removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.
“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry Faith,” he muttered, “It’s been so hard. And the Scooby Gang is falling apart, it’s all falling apart. And I’m afraid Willow wants to absolve herself in some way; she’s taken this so hard. It’s as though she’s broken and nothing can put her back together.”
Faith slowly sat down again, leaning forward on the table, resting on her elbows. “Giles, she’s gotta come back. Willow has to do this, for herself, for all of you. She’s the big hitter now. She’s like, the one in charge.”
“Of course, yes,” Giles sighed, “But without Buffy she feels she has no reason to stay.”
“Then I find her, and I explain, and she comes back. Simple.” Faith waved her hand around, as though it were the easiest thing in the world.
“I’m not sure that’s what she wants.”
“Well I am. I’m sure,” Faith said firmly, pressing one fist into the palm of her other hand. “She can’t give up on you, on this. B never did.”
Giles steeled himself to say the words and realise their truth. “Buffy’s not here anymore Faith. She’s gone.”
“Right.” Faith bit her lip for a second. Gotta focus, gotta keep it in line, she told herself. “And if Willow never comes back here, she’ll never accept that. I know Giles,” she prodded her chest with a thumb, “I’ve run away from everything more than once. But I came back. I had to. You said she has to find her own way back, well you’re wrong. She has to want to look for it first. Now,” she sat down again, clenching her fists together in her lap, “tell me where she is.”
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“So where are we again?” Tara asked, as they hauled their bulging rucksacks off the little train and onto the platform. She followed Willow through the doors past the ticket office, noticing with a sinking heart the peeling paint and décor that might be termed by some as ‘rustic’ but, to her tired eyes, only looked like ‘untidy’.
Willow led Tara to the top of the steps outside the station and flung out her arm in a grand gesture. “This is Howth. Historical village. And it’s by the sea!” she added excitedly. She was aware that she was over compensating madly but she sensed, rather than saw, the disillusionment in Tara’s gait. When she got like this, Willow’s sense of protection and encouragement set in. Sure, all she wanted was a hot bath and some sleep, but she had to get Tara there first, whatever it took. She grabbed the blonde girl’s hand and led her down the steps of the station, noticing the pub that ran underneath.
“The Bloody Stream,” she explained, pointing with her other hand to the wooden seating below and floral baskets hanging, it seemed, from every available point.
Tara frowned, “Is that like, a local name, swearing or something?”
Willow laughed, despite herself, “No honey, some battle took place here that was so bad, apparently the stream turned red with blood. You know, that’s the way Europeans did things in those days,” she added knowledgeably, her seriousness almost bringing a grin to Tara’s pale face.
“Right. So let me get this, you bring me from a hellmouth to a place where people turn streams red with blood? Nice.”
Willow’s smile fell and she let go of Tara’s hand as they reached the road running past the station. Pushing a hand against her hair, she bit at her lip, hoping against hope that Tara’s taciturn mood wasn’t going to last. Ever since Buffy’s death, Tara had retreated more into herself if that was possible. And over the last few days, she’d been cranky as hell. There were times when she felt like she was going to bite her tongue off with the temptation to give Tara as good as she got herself. She felt the blonde walk up beside her and stop, sighing loudly.
“I’m sorry.”
Willow turned and looked closely at Tara. Sure, she said she was sorry, but the irritable expression in her eyes still remained. Eyes that were flicking away from her scrutiny and following the road down the left, where the village lay in the distance. A chill settled over Willow’s chest, constricting her breathing for a second as she wondered how she was going to deal with this. She hated fighting with anyone, especially Tara. But these days, sniping at one another was all they seemed to do. Her mind drifted back to the sunrise they had watched only this morning. It seemed so long ago that they had shared a moment of perfect happiness, whereas now she felt like if she moved, she’d surely crush the eggshells she seemed to be walking on all the time.
“Willow, I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m tired. Can we just go to the hotel?” Tara reached out and slid her fingers through Willow’s, pulling the redhead closer to her. She clenched her teeth as anger rose inside her, wanting to get rid of it somehow, but not knowing where to put it, or where it came from. Most of all though, she wanted to hide it from Willow at all costs. Her lover was so fragile these days, tears one minute, laughter the next. It was becoming harder and harder to keep up with her, and sometimes Tara wasn’t even sure if she wanted to.
“Sure,” Willow offered a half-hearted smile to Tara. “The Baily Inn. I think it’s down there…” she pointed towards the village and then pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket, letting go of Tara’s hand to open it up. “Yeah,” she nodded, flicking back her hair with a sharp movement of her head, “Should be a couple of minutes walk, that’s all.”
Tara hitched her backpack further up onto her shoulders and let out a sigh. “Great. Let’s go.” And she began trudging along the road slowly into town, leaving a confused and slightly hurt Willow gazing after her.
Part 6
The Baily Inn overlooked the village green in Howth. To all intents and purposes, Howth was just another idyllic fishing village north of Dublin; a hideaway place that prided itself on Viking invasions and lavish histories of Irish kings from long ago. But the truth was, Howth had a fierce tourist trade running through it from summer to summer. The hotel owners set themselves up in competition with one another and regularly offered ‘traditional’ lodgings for guests with Irish culture thrown in for free. This tended to consist of many a rowdy get together where Guinness flowed like the nectar of the gods and whiskey was poured down throats in bucketfuls. All in all, Howth was a humming centre of inclusion when it came to the tourist trade.
From the Baily Inn, the view was breathtaking. Howth Castle nestled in the hills above the village, the steep slope running down to the large green where benches were set at convenient intervals for those wishing to sit and look out over the bay. The harbour itself was enclosed by vast stone walls running out to the lighthouse, imperiously perched at the end of the promenade. Past that, the bay reached out to Ireland’s Eye, the offshore island that was now a bird sanctuary, but at one time had been a monastery of silence and virtue.
Boats bobbed up and down in the harbour as the waves made their rhythmic music on the shale beach that edged the bay; the salt tang in the air mixing with the wind that whipped both girl’s hair playfully from side to side as they approached their hotel. Tara couldn’t take her eyes off the sea, and the island in the bay. It was so quiet, with only the occasional car passing them, and a few people out walking. From somewhere on the village green there was an excited dog barking once or twice, but apart from that, just the sea reached her ears. She briefly closed her eyes; it was intoxic