Part 5d – Deep Talk
Giles whistled as they strolled along the lakefront, his hands stuck in his coat pockets. Here, Willow noticed, surrounded by other Englishmen in tweed, with the cold weather and cups of tea galore, he was in his element. If she was honest with herself, there had always been a part of Giles that had never quite fitted in America, and she’d always sensed a slight loneliness to him. He loved America, that was certain, but Rupert Giles was an Englishman through and through.
“I didn’t know you could whistle,” she commented, shivering a little. Giles noticed it, and withdrew a pair of large black gloves from his pocket. When she put them on, she noticed that there was enough room for two fingers in each finger hole. Willow attempted to whistle herself, only managing to produce one note. A young man, who was handsome even to a gay heartbroken woman, glanced at her with a smile, and did an approving double-take. She smirked, remembering a time that she’d tried to convince Tara that she also was attractive to men – and women.
What are they looking at?
The hotness of you, doofus!That beautiful morning had ended with Tara convincing Willow that she only had eyes for her. Two days later, she left her. Not that Willow blamed her – no, she certainly didn’t. One thing that she’d realised during the past two months was that Tara leaving her had played a big part in her temporary abandoning of magick. Still, she’d gone so far that even that hadn’t stopped her. It had taken Dawnie getting hurt before she’d eventually realised how far she’d fallen.
“Willow,” Giles stated seriously. She glanced at him, her face concerned. He looked ready to begin another of the deep talks that they had started the morning with, and she barely suppressed a groan. At times, all she wanted to do was talk and release the feelings and emotions building within her. At other times, though, Willow just wanted to hide and ignore all that she’d done. She’d lived without Tara in her life before they’d met – couldn’t she pretend that it had never happened? Part of her said that she wanted to remember and relish every moment that she’d spent with Tara Maclay. Another part said that the pain of loss was too severe for her to keep thinking about it. Willow knew, though, that she would rather live the rest of her life with pain a hundred times worse than this than forget the two precious years that she and her soulmate had spent together. If she really didn’t want to talk, Willow supposed, all she had to do was tell Giles, and he would drop the subject immediately. Still, he deserved to be given the chance to help, and perhaps he needed to talk. This isn’t all about you, Willow, she reminded herself. Think of him as well – think of everyone. You lost your soulmate, but they lost Tara and the me that they used to know.
“Pasties or hot dogs?” Giles asked. She gazed at him, wideyed. That hadn’t been the question that she’d been expecting, and he suppressed a smile. Willow tended to avoid talking about herself wherever possible – another example of her falling self-esteem – and therefore expected everyone else to want her to rehash the pain that Tara’s death had caused. Perhaps that had been Buffy’s method of helping her, though he doubted it, but it wasn’t his. He and Willow would talk when and where she wanted and needed to.
Willow looked confused. “Pasties? I’ve never tried one of those.” She paused. “I don’t think. Tara used to make some roll-type things which were lovely, but I never actually knew what they were.”
The Watcher scoffed. “Sausage rolls. Not a patch on Cornish Pasties. Well, if you haven’t had one then you must try it now. Meat or cheese and onion?”
“Cheese and onion, please,” she said obediently, and in a few minutes time accepted a steaming cheese and onion pasty from him. “This is gorgeous,” she muttered around a mouthful of cheese, and Giles nodded his agreement, too preoccupied with his meat pasty to answer. The two continued their walk, properly replenished. Willow’s sense of nausea had returned after eating, though she’d stubbornly ignored it, and it had abated once she was standing by the sea, breathing the salty air in deeply.
“It’s gorgeous,” she murmured, leaning her forearms on the metal rails and watching three teenage boys skateboard down the boardwalk. “Giles?”
“Yes?”
“Did you kill Ben?”
Giles was temporarily struck dumb. “I – I did. How did you know?”
“I didn’t,” she responded. “At least, not officially until now. I just – I suspected. Buffy had injured Glory badly, but if he’d got to a hospital he would have lived. He just seemed to die too quickly, and I knew that you were the only one who would have done it.”
When he spoke, his voice was strained. “I’m the only one with that kind of darkness in me, you mean.”
“No,” Willow replied. She suddenly felt very tired. “If meant that, I’d have said so. You were right, and it wasn’t darkness, it was light and bravery. You were the only one of us who would put aside all personal feelings to do what had to be done. Even Buffy couldn’t do it, and I know you feel that is an attribute.” She hesitated. “I don’t agree with that, you know, Giles.” The Watcher was silent, letting her speak. “She kills demons who haven’t done a single wrong in their undead lives, just because they’re demons. If – if she had applied that to humans after the nerds killed Katrina, I would still have Tara.” Alarmed at his silence, Willow looked at Giles. “Don’t misinterpret me, please, Giles. Buffy has done so much good in her life, and I’m selfish and wrong to even say that she didn’t do her duty. She’s the Slayer, Giles. The one who fights the forces of darkness.” Here she paused, and inhaled sharply. “Which is more dark, Giles? A soulless demon who has taken the life of a human, or a human with a soul who murdered one of their own kind?”
“I don’t know,” the Watcher admitted. “I just don’t know any more, Willow.” It was the first time that she had ever seen him seem less than adult and all-knowing. This new side of him was unexpected but certainly welcome.
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“Tara,” Anya said tentatively, still clutching Xander’s hand. Tara noticed, and smiled, and the two noticed immediately, and leapt apart, almost ashamed.
Tara waved a little at Anya and Xander. “Hi, guys,” she said sheepishly. “I’m alive.”
“You don’t say,” Xander said dryly, and had the grace to appear ashamed as Tara looked at the floor, embarrassed. “Sorry, Tara,” he apologised. “It’s just a shock.”
“I know,” she reassured him. He’d grown up, she realised. On the outside, he appeared to be the same joking, immature Xander of a year ago, but there was a tenderness and concern as he looked at her that she hadn’t noticed before. His carefree attitude was a show, one to hide behind, Tara assumed. She made a mental note to get Buffy to talk to him. The mature adult that she was seeing glimpses of was much more equipped to live on the Hellmouth than the Xander that Willow had known for so long.
Willow…
“I need to see Willow,” she said abruptly. Concern for how her friend’s were reacting gave way to a desperate longing to feel her soulmate in her arms again.
They exchanged glances, and Dawn spoke up. “Let’s sit on the couch,” she suggested, pulling Tara by the hand towards it. Xander sat on one end, and Anya automatically perched on his lap, and Tara sat at the other end with Buffy squashed in the middle. Dawn had immediately claimed Tara’s lap as a seat. Now that the truth of having Tara there, alive, was sinking in, she was terrified of once more losing the blonde who had come to take the place of her mother. So many people seemed to die in Dawn’s life, Tara realised. Too many. The death count in Sunnydale was often more than they could deal with – how could they expect a teenager to deal with it?
“Tara,” Buffy began gently. “The thing is, Willow’s in…”
“England,” Tara filled in with a groan and a pout. I wanna see my soulmate, she thought sulkily. Is that too much to ask? Shaking her head, she realised that it was. The Elders had returned her to this Earth. Now she needed to take control of her own life.
Startled, Anya blurted out, “How did you know?”
Tara opened her mouth to tell them about the Elders, when she realised that she didn’t want to, not without Willow there. Willow deserved to hear about it first, not second-hand over the phone. “I – uh, I guessed,” she improvised. “Didn’t really think that she’d be staying here.”
“Well, actually, she has,” Anya intervened. Tara glanced at her, eyes widening as she noticed the new changes to her aura. It was strange to have it back, she allowed. She’d lost the power to read auras when she and Willow had separated, but the fact that she had it back reassured her. It meant that her soul was whole when she could cast magick adequately, and that could only be so when she was with Willow. Not in the physical sense, as Willow was in England, but she knew in her heart that they would be together soon, and so did Willow, even if she didn’t know she did. Shaking her head mentally, Tara giggled. Was it possible that Willow’s habit of babbling had affected her to the extent that she babbled inside her head?
“Can you do anything?” she asked Anya. “You can’t teleport me, can you?”
“How did you know that she's a demon again?” Dawn asked curiously, feeling it was time that she inserted herself into the conversation again.
“Aura,” Tara said dismissively, and immediately regretted it. “Oh, Dawnie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just…everything’s happening so fast. I’m a little confused.” The brunette nodded her understanding and Tara continued, promising herself that she would make it up to Dawn with pancakes tomorrow. “Anya,” she requested, “could you do me a favour?”
“Of course,” she said immediately, and they were all reminded of the fact that they had all matured beyond their years lately – even thousand year old demons.
“Could you tell her for me?”
Xander, Buffy and Dawn all opened their mouths to protest, but Tara ignored them, gazing steadily at the demon. Either she looked a lot more pitiful than she thought, or Anya understood the pleading in her eyes, because she nodded reluctantly. “Yes, I will.”
Tara: There's just so much to work through... and can you just be kissing me now?