Voices in my Head

Part 3

Once in her bedroom, Willow sat on the edge of the bed, willing her tears not to spill.

The room still smelled of Tara - of her life, not her death.

Maybe she shouldn’t have come alone, but she didn’t want any comforting or pitying gestures. Willow just wanted to bask in her memories - relive her memories of Tara, alive and smiling, not dead . . .

Looking to the floor, where her lover had fallen, Willow was amazed that there wasn’t anything to suggest that anyone had died. The police and other officials had come and gone already, apparently cleaning up before they left. Glancing at the window that still held a small hole, surrounded by a star burst of cracks, Willow mused that not everything had been removed.

Her gaze went back and forth between the ‘SPOT’ and the window, again and again. Back and forth. Floor to window to floor to window to floor . . .

Turning abruptly, she threw herself face down into the pillow so no one would hear her as the tears started to fall again. The almost soundless tears turned into agonizing, gut-wrenching sobs as she was enveloped by the same scent that permeated the room.

Tara’s pillow. The same pillow she’d lain her blonde head upon less than 48 hours ago.

As her tears continued to soak the pillow, Willow couldn’t help but think that it should have been her, instead. If Tara had been the one to live, she never would have gone mad with the magics as Willow had. There would be no demons, power hungry witches or determined bounty hunters about to descend upon the Hellmouth.

It would all be better.

Stop that line of thinking immediately, Willow Anne! The order popped into her head before she could go any further, startling her out of her crying and self-flagellation.

Go away! She told the familiar presence, not in the frame of mind to deal with him at the moment. Just leave me ALONE! Willow reiterated, not really wanting the comforting presence gone, but not willing to hear how she had screwed up - again - from the only person whose opinion mattered more than Giles’.

We all make mistakes, Willow. he stated. And do you really think I’m in any position to tell you what a mess you’ve made? Pot and kettle, Willow. she was reminded.

What are you doing in my head? She asked after a moment of silence. They had often talked this way, but not for a while now. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he sought her out after months of silence, especially given what Anya had said earlier.

The Watcher’s right. You can’t stay in Sunnydale.

I’m going to England with Giles. Willow told him in a quiet tone, ignoring that he’d been in her head long before she became aware of him. She didn’t really want to head across the Atlantic, but didn’t see any viable alternatives that didn’t involve putting those she loved in danger.

Come to Denver. came the offer, stated simply and concisely. That was the way he was. Demand or order, and then if someone didn’t comply he would either stare them into submission, using what Willow had dubbed ‘the GLARE’, or argue with them until they gave in. However, early on he’d discovered that neither route seemed to work on the red head. She’d counter his GLARE with her RESOLVE FACE, or argue with him using a twisted logic that left him reeling and unsure of when he’d lost control of the conversation.

Since Glaring was out, the alternate route was going to be used, and this time he was determined to win.

There’s a coven in England that can help me learn control. Willow was desperate to learn to control this new power, to not be looked at like she was going to go ‘Destructo Girl’ at any moment - again. Buffy’s words from earlier came back to her, constantly repeating in her head - ‘Cure the witch’. Like she was sick and just needed to relax and drink plenty of fluids, and she would be all better. Back to normal.

But before she could even think about controlling her magic, she needed to control her emotions. How long would it take before they started demanding she get over it? She’d been given three weeks to get over Oz, would they allow another week or two because Tara had died and they’d been together longer? Would the coven in England be any different?

There’s a coven in Denver that will be more than happy to help. he countered. And if you ever tell them I called them that, you’ll live to regret it. his deep voice warned her, using a tone that sent shivers down the spines of demons and master vampires alike.

Pfffft.

Why is it you never take my threats seriously? he asked with a sigh of resignation. Everyone else does.

Because you’d rather die than hurt me. It was the one thing she had never doubted since she was eight.

I’d take on the world for you, Willow.

Tears glistened in her eyes, the first outward sign of the conversation going on within. However, for the first time today, they weren’t shed out of sadness.

Come to Denver. he repeated.

I don’t want to put you in any danger. Willow told him, Anya’s words still echoing in her ears. Demons, vampires, black witches and bounty hunters, all following her wherever she went. The full weight of that little tidbit had yet to fully sink in yet, but when it did Willow was sure that it would be followed immediately by a panic attack of epic proportions, combined with new levels of ‘terrifying’.

Denver is the safest place for you.

Giles really wants me to go with him. Willow vainly tried to find a good enough reason to refuse, but was coming up short - and was quickly losing the will to try.

I want you with me.

I miss you. he said after a pause. In a softer tone, he pressed on before she could say anything else. I want to spend time with you - to teach you properly, like I was taught - and I want to get to know you better.

Giles wants to leave in the morning; the tickets are booked and everything. she told him, wanting desperately to accept his offer, but still wary of disappointing the English Watcher or her friends - friends who all had a cautious look in their eyes, as if waiting for her to suck them all into hell.

But is that what you want? he asked gently.

Denver. Willow finally said, feeling like she was betraying her friends with a single word and thought. I want to go to Denver.

Despite what Giles thought, she knew Denver was the safest place on Earth for her. She remembered the last time she was there - when her powers were just starting to emerge - the city and surrounding areas felt like a big, fuzzy blanket that screamed ‘safe’.

You haven’t been back in more than two years. he reminded her gently.

It was true, she realized. She’d been there every summer since she was eight years old, but had missed the last year to stay and protect the Hellmouth that was without a Slayer.

Barney misses you, too. he told her, speaking of the large husky he called his pet - though it was debatable who was the master. So does your damn horse. was added grudgingly, his distaste for the animal palpable.

Willow missed her beloved horse, too - a gift from him the summer she was sixteen.

I’ll come to Denver, if you say her name. she unashamedly blackmailed. Both knew that her decision was already made, but he still put up a token protest.

No.

Please? she pleaded, a smile teasing across her lips. I’m making a pouty face. Willow warned him.

Not enough whiskey in the world.

... and here come the puppy dog eyes . . .

Nice try, but ‘no’.

Do I really need to bat my eyes, too?

All right! All right! Cookie Crumbles! Are you happy now? he grouched, breaking under the pitiful onslaught, as he always did. Silently he wondered how she managed to come up with silly names for the animals around her. If he hadn’t fought tooth and nail, his dog would have been called Rocky Road Racer.

A giggle was his only reply, making his discomfort worthwhile.

I’ll meet you at the airport in the morning.

But, how will you know -

Trust me, Willow. cutting her off before she could get a good ‘babble’ going. I’ll find you, and I’ll have one of the boys with me.

Okay. she agreed quietly, though there was no need for her assent. She was actually glad that he was taking charge. It was nice to let someone else take care of everything for a change.

Don’t worry about packing. Bring your laptop and the cat; anything else you need we can get once you’re here. Now get some sleep - let me worry about everything else.

Okay. she repeated sleepily, his commanding presence enough to relax her even now.

Night, Daddy.

Goodnight, darling girl.

A smile graced her face as the witch fell asleep, comforted in the fact that her father could - and would - make everything all right.

End

Back to Cat's in the Cradle
Back to BtVS Index
Back to M7 Index
Back to Main Page