Seven

TRIANGLE

“I have to go soon, baby,” Buffy whispered.

Willow opened her eyes. She realized she had fallen asleep; she was exhausted. Buffy--the Slayer in Buffy, the beautiful, frightening animal with eyes like diamonds and a growl that made her heart quail--had taken her, and loved her, all night long; she’d penetrated her, all the way through, gotten to the heart of her. Buffy had made love to her the whole night with the dick she wore, and she tore Willow’s hair, and snarled at her; she hurt Willow, and bit her, and scared her, and made her cry. She fucked her so hard and for so long that Willow didn’t think she’d be able to walk in the morning. Buffy had started out slow, fucking her from on top, and giving her gentle kisses as she filled Willow up, and telling her she would always take care of her, as she looked down into Willow’s eyes; and Willow came for her. She came over and over again: looking in Buffy’s eyes as Buffy took her, as she filled every inch of her, filled all the empty places Willow had been carrying for so long, made Willow come. But then Buffy turned her over, and made her kneel on the bed on her hands and knees with her ass in the air, and took her from behind: she held Willow by the hair and controlled her, rode her. Willow had been with three different guys back in Boston who she’d given it all to but none of them had ever taken her that way; they wanted to, they had all asked, but she never let them. Buffy didn’t ask.

Willow liked it when Buffy took her from behind; she knelt on the bed on all fours with her ass in the air, and Buffy rammed herself into her, as far as she could go; it scared Willow more, being taken that way, and she realized that part of her liked being scared of Buffy. It felt better, too; when Buffy was inside Willow’s pussy from that position she could penetrate her deeper, and Willow felt it in her clit more; it made her come even faster and the orgasms were even better. And Willow couldn’t see Buffy’s face when Buffy took her that way, she couldn’t see what Buffy was going to do until she did it, she didn’t have any control. Buffy controlled her instead. She controlled her, and fucked her, and whispered terrible things in her ear: things that made Willow cry, and things that made her wet.

Once, Buffy whispered that if Evan ever came to Sunnydale and tried to take Willow away from her, she’d kill him.

Buffy fucked Willow from behind the rest of the night, and growled at her as she did it, and she alternated that with licking Willow’s pussy. Willow licked Buffy’s pussy too; she licked it and kissed it and sucked on it for what seemed like hours. Buffy’s pussy was a golden chalice, and it smelled beautiful, and it tasted sweet, and Willow drank her fill. Buffy made Willow kneel on the floor in front of her when Willow licked her pussy, and Willow liked it that way. Willow kissed Buffy’s feet, when she was on her knees in front of her. And she whispered things to Buffy, too: she whispered that she wanted to worship her forever.

Buffy raked her teeth over Willow’s neck when she took her from behind; she raked them over the left side, where she had bitten her, and taken her blood, earlier that night. She bit Willow again once, as she fucked her: she opened the wound again, and penetrated Willow with her teeth as she penetrated her with the dildo, because Willow had asked her to. Willow had begged her; Buffy whispered that she wouldn’t do it for her again unless Willow begged her to first. After Willow begged for a few minutes, and finally began to cry, Buffy relented, and opened the wound again, and took her blood. Willow felt warmth flowing through her and filling her up, as Buffy did it; things felt like they were slowing down, and she wanted to sleep. Buffy’s thrusts became softer, slower, as she took Willow’s blood; Buffy gently pushed Willow down onto the bed on her belly, and the last thing Willow remembered was coming, as Buffy whispered in her ear...

“I love you, Faith,” Buffy whispered.

Then everything was slow, and dark...and Willow felt warm...she felt Buffy’s arms around her...

Willow wasn’t sure how long ago that was; when she opened her eyes now the sun was shining in, and she was lying in Buffy’s arms, with her head on Buffy’s breasts, and Buffy was covering her face with little gentle kisses. Willow felt limp, and weak, and dried out. But she felt warm; she felt warmer than she ever had in her life.

“I want you to eat now, baby, okay?” Buffy said. “I took some of your blood and you’re weak right now. I brought you meat.”

Willow smelled it; she hadn’t noticed it at first. She had been focused in on Buffy.

“I want you to take me again,” Willow said, and kissed Buffy’s breasts.

Buffy shook her head.

“Please?” Willow said.

“No,” Buffy said. “You’re weak right now, Faith. My baby needs to eat now, and rest, and get strong again. Okay?”

Willow nodded, and Buffy reached over to the nightstand. There were two paper bags, and a gallon of orange juice there. Willow smelled chicken, and ham.

Buffy opened the gallon of orange juice, and held it to Willow’s mouth; the moment Willow tasted it she realized how thirsty she was. She immediately gulped down about a third of it.

“Where’d you get this stuff?” Willow said, when she’d had her fill. Buffy put the juice back on the nightstand, and Willow peeked into the bags. She was realizing how hungry she was now; she was ravenous. There were two entire chickens in clear plastic containers in one of the bags, and two hams in clear plastic containers in the other. “Were any stores open out there?”

“There wasn’t anything open except for the McDonald’s and that food is shit,” Buffy said. “You needed good meat. So I broke into the supermarket. The deli there has meat; rotisserie chickens and hams and sausages and stuff.”

“You broke in?”

“You needed meat.”

Willow nodded, and sat up. Sitting up suddenly made her feel woozy. And she realized that her pussy was aching. She smiled.

“Damn, but you gave it to me good,” Willow said. “I don’t even know if I can walk. I think I came like, a hundred times.”

“That’s because you’re mine,” Buffy said. “Eat now, baby.”

They broke out the food. Buffy hadn’t bothered with plates or napkins or forks. They ate with their hands. They ate quickly, and without talking; they tore into the meat like two hungry lions, snarling and slavering over it, and devoured both chickens and one of the hams and finished the whole gallon of orange juice. When they were done they licked each other’s fingers clean, and laid back down together, and Willow kissed Buffy’s breasts, and Buffy rubbed Willow’s belly.

“All better baby? Nice and full now?” Buffy said.

“Perfect, lover,” Willow said. She felt her energy returning. Her pussy still ached, but she thought she could get up out of the bed now at least, if she had to. She didn’t want to. She wanted this to last forever. But she knew it wouldn’t.

“I have to go, Faith,” Buffy said.

Willow hugged her, and held on to her as tight as she could.

“I don’t want you to,” Willow whispered.

“Doing this, coming out like this...it’s breaking the rules,” Buffy said. “It wasn’t fair of me, to do this to Buffy.”

“Have you ever done this before? Can you come out like this like, whenever you want? Can my Slayer do this?”

“No. I can only do this because Buffy never accepted me...never really let me inside. We’re separate. But you accepted the Slayer in you, so she can’t come out like this. I see her in you, but she’s part of you. She can’t take over and control you the way I’m doing with Buffy right now. It’s part of the reason the world brought us together, Faith. There are things Buffy needs to learn, that she can only learn from you. And there are things you need to learn from her.”

“Will I...see you again after today? This part of you...will I see you again like this?”

“No,” Buffy said.

Willow started to cry. Buffy kissed her tears.

“There is no me, Faith,” Buffy said. “I’m only a part of Buffy, a fragment. I shouldn’t be able to exist apart from her, I can only be here like this because Buffy and I are estranged. But I’ll always be with you, watching over you from inside her. It took all my strength to be able to do this, and it wasn’t fair of me and it wasn’t right; I took something from Buffy, doing this. But I got impatient for you, baby. I needed you.”

“I need you too,” Willow said, and kissed Buffy’s breasts again.

“You need Buffy,” Buffy said. “But I’m only part of her. I’m the part that loves you more than anything else in the world, but I’m only part of her.”

“What about...what about the rest of her? Does the rest of her love me?”

“She isn’t sure. She’s starting to. But...Faith...”

Buffy looked at her, with ancient eyes...eyes that pierced Willow, penetrated her. All the way down.

“You and Buffy are on a path, now,” Buffy said. “But it’s a long and twisting path, and there are other paths that intersect it; there are other lives, other loves, and only one thing in the world is certain. All that’s certain is that I’ll always take care of you. I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me baby, but only if we’re together; you have to choose me. You think you have but you haven’t yet. And you might not. Even if you don’t choose me, even if your path takes you to someone else, to one of those other loves, I’ll always take care of you. But I’m only a fragment, baby. The rest of Buffy is...confused. She can’t see the way in front of her as clearly as I can. She has secrets...they pollute her, make her weak, sap her strength. They’ll kill her someday, if she doesn’t let go of them. They’ll kill her, and they’ll kill me with her.”

“I don’t want another love,” Willow said. “I just want you. I could never love anyone else.”

“You will,” Buffy said. “And they’re going to love you too.”

Willow cried again, when Buffy said that, and Buffy held her, and kissed her tears away, and refused to discuss it further. She said Slayers walked in dreams, and could sometimes see the future unfolding; they could see all the paths, and where they led, more clearly than regular people. But Buffy refused to discuss what she saw on the path ahead of them, beyond those few cryptic hints she’d dropped.

“Love yourself first, Faith,” Buffy said. “You can’t really love anyone until you love yourself. You don’t know how to love yet, baby. You need to learn. And if you don’t love yourself, no one else will ever love you either. Even Buffy won’t. You can destroy this, destroy us, if you aren’t careful. I love you, Faith. Buffy hasn’t decided yet, but I have. Be strong for me.”

Willow nodded. Buffy kissed her, and put her arms around her.

“I’m tired, baby,” Buffy whispered. “I wanna sleep with my cub now.”

Willow rested her head against Buffy’s breasts, and they closed their eyes, and went back to sleep.

“Hi baby,” Buffy said, a few hours later.

Willow opened her eyes. The hellacious fucking Buffy--or technically, the Slayer inside her--had given her the night before made her feel warm, and loved, in ways she had never experienced: no one had ever wanted her, needed her, so completely. But she felt like she had been in a bar fight afterwards; after Buffy finally finished with her Willow was exhausted and hungry and thirsty and weak and her pussy ached. Now she felt better. She had energy again; she could move again. Her pussy was still sore from being stretched out and fucked relentlessly all night long, but she liked that. She wanted to keep that pain with her for awhile.

“Mmmmm, there’s my girl,” Willow said, and yawned, and looked up into Buffy’s eyes...

They were different. They weren’t diamonds anymore. They didn’t penetrate Willow, didn’t stab relentlessly down into her...

“We were sleepy Slayers,” Buffy said, and yawned. “Here’s hoping my Mom bought that lie we worked so hard on last night. If she doesn’t I think we should at least get points for creativity.”

Buffy’s voice was different now too. It was soft and sweet; it wasn’t feral. It didn’t scare Willow, didn’t give her that feeling in her stomach...

Willow knew the Slayer was gone.

“Yeah, well, we got some exercise,” Willow said.

“Oh, sure, tons of exercise in that lame little cemetery, with the complete lack of vamps,” Buffy said. “And you’re so in violation of rule three.”

“Shit girlfriend, after last night I figure we’re in violation of all the rules. Including a whole bunch we haven’t even come up with yet,” Willow said, and kissed her.

“Yeah, probably,” Buffy said, and giggled. “I think we need to like, be put on probation. What’s all that stuff doing there?”

Buffy was pointing at the bags, and the empty gallon of orange juice.

“I’ll dump the trash after we get dressed,” Willow said. “But we still got that other ham. We can save it for later, that ham’s pretty tasty.”

“When did you get a ham?” Buffy said, and leaned over to the nightstand, and looked in the bags. “Did you go out while I was asleep?”

“Huh?”

“I smell chicken too. Are these chicken bones? You went out in the middle of the night and got a ham and chicken and didn’t even wake me up?”

Willow sat up.

She looked at Buffy, looked her in the eyes.

“You know how I’m always sayin’ weird stuff?” Willow said. “Like how I say weird goofy stuff just for the hell of it sometimes?”

“We both know you do it to annoy me, ham girl,” Buffy said. “You smell like ham. You’re my ham girl.”

“Okay. I’m gonna say something weird again now. I’m gonna ask you a weird question. But you can’t ask me why I’m asking it, okay?”

“You’re gonna ask me a weird question and I can’t ask why you’re asking me the weird question?”

“Yeah.”

“Um...okay. “Why are you so weird? You’re the weirdest Slayer ever. I think I’m gonna tickle you. I bet I can tickle the weirdness out of you.”

“You better not tickle me,” Willow said.

“I’m so gonna tickle you,” Buffy said.

“Okay, so here’s the weird question. What did we do last night after we got back here?”

“What? Why are you...shit,” Buffy said. “Um...okay, fine, I’ll humor your current weirdness even though your weirdness is totally annoying. Let’s see... um...we came back here and cuddled and had that tickle fight? Which I completely won by the way, and then we kissed a lot, and then you made us watch a little bit of a Red Sox game until I tickled you again and forced you to switch the channel, and then we kissed some more and watched the tail end of Letterman and decided he’s definitely better than Leno, and then you gave me a nice neck rub, and we went to sleep. Also the President of the United States is Newt Gingrich and the capital of North Dakota is Bismarck.”

It hit Willow like someone had splashed ice water in her face.

Buffy didn’t remember. She didn’t remember any of it.

Willow took Buffy’s hand, and looked into her eyes...

Buffy’s eyes weren’t diamonds anymore.

The Slayer kept it from Buffy, somehow...kept the whole night from her...

Buffy’s gonna put me back in that fucking cage when the sun comes up and she’s gonna pretend I never said these things...

Or had Buffy blocked it out? Had it all been too much for her, and she’d decided not to remember it?

Buffy had told Willow she loved her, told her she would care for her and protect her forever...and she didn’t even remember. Buffy had loved Willow all night long, ferociously...and she had held Willow in her arms, and kissed her, and rubbed her belly, and made her feel warm...but now it was like it never happened, like the night was gone, erased...

Willow wanted to cry.

“Hey. You okay, baby?” Buffy said.

“Yeah,” Willow said. “I just...uh...”

Willow came up with a lie.

“You ever have one of those weird dreams that’s sorta like real life and then when you wake up you get kinda confused about what parts of the night were real and what was just the dream?” Willow said. “That’s why I asked. Wasn’t sure if we stayed up a little longer, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I have those kinds of dreams sometimes,” Buffy said. “I had this summer job last year at this ice cream place and I was sick with this crappy cold and so I took a day off? And I meant to wake up and call in sick, and I thought I did? But it turned out that I only dreamt that I called in sick. So they completely fired my ass and when I told my Mom why I didn’t have a job to go to anymore it was just so pathetic that she just laughed and took pity on me and let me work in the gallery to make some spending money. Um...and then I broke a really expensive statue? But there were extenuating circumstances. The circumstances like, totally extenuated.”

Willow laughed. She had missed Buffy, she realized...she had missed this Buffy, the one who made her laugh...

She took Buffy in her arms, and kissed her.

“You’re my girl,” Willow said.

“And you’re my ham girl,” Buffy said, and giggled, and looked around the room for her purse. She saw it on the bureau and walked over to it. “So how about we take a shower and head downtown like we planned? I wanna try that new shoe store? Plus I totally need donuts. And probably that ham. Let me just check my money first though. I might have to hit an ATM.” Buffy stared back at Willow, over her shoulder. “And stop checking out my hot naked body.”

“I’m in flagrant violation of rule number one,” Willow said. “I got no respect for our laws.”

“No respect at all,” Buffy said. “You’re being so flagrant. You should be on America’s Most Wanted. But I think we need to stop kidding ourselves. The authorities never enforce rule number one.” Buffy unzipped her purse, and her eyes widened, and her face became red. She quickly zipped it back up again.

“Um...okay...um...right,” Buffy said. “So...shower, then downtown.”

Willow knew what Buffy had seen in there that made her blush. For a moment, she considered telling Buffy everything. Everything about the previous night...and then she would take the strap-on out of Buffy’s purse, and kneel in front of her, and put it on her, and kiss her feet while she did, and then she would take Buffy’s dick in her mouth. And after she had done that for awhile, looking up into Buffy’s eyes the whole time she sucked her dick, Buffy would lift her up in her strong arms, and carry her to the bed, and take her again...

Willow knew she couldn’t.

She knew this Buffy wasn’t ready to love her yet...

You and I are forever, the Slayer had said. We haven’t said the words but we’re gonna say the words someday...

Willow held on to that...she held on tight to it. She knew she was falling for Buffy...falling in love with her, a little more each day, each hour, each minute. She loved the Slayer in Buffy already. She knew she’d love the rest of her in time.

You and Buffy are on a path, now, the Slayer had said.

But it’s a long and twisting path, and there are other paths that intersect it; there are other lives, other loves...

Willow didn’t want to love anyone else.

Even if you don’t choose me, even if your path takes you to someone else, to one of those other loves, I’ll always take care of you.

But she wondered if the Slayer knew something she didn’t...

Even if you don’t choose me...

“Earth to ham girl,” Buffy said, and giggled. “You okay? Looked like you were zoning out on me for a sec there.”

“I’m good, B,” Willow said, and made herself smile...

And then it was over.

Willow wanted to cry. She’d screwed it all up...

Buffy had lied to her. She had lied, and met a man and gone with him somewhere, and kissed him...

It hurt Willow, when Buffy lied, but she held on tight...she held on tight to what the Slayer had said, held onto it for dear life...

Willow thought the man Buffy met was her guy, the one-time guy, and that Buffy still loved him...

She knew Buffy was in love with Willow, too.

The thought seemed strange for some reason. It was strange, thinking of Buffy in love with Willow. It gave Willow a weird feeling.

After Willow had followed Buffy and caught her meeting the man, and kissing him, she tried to hold on, tried to hold tight to what the Slayer had said, but then she found out Buffy was going away. That Buffy had never intended to stay with her; Buffy was leaving Sunnydale to go to college out of state next year. Willow had seen the college brochures in Buffy’s house, and then Joyce had confirmed it when Willow overheard her talking to Buffy.

Willow knew the Slayer loved her...

...But Buffy didn’t.

Maybe there just wasn’t any more room...Buffy loved Willow, and maybe her guy too, and there just wasn’t enough room left for her...

And Willow had tried to stay away after that, because it hurt too much...

And when she looked in Buffy’s eyes now, Willow knew, finally knew, that she had lost Buffy...lost her forever. The Slayer in Buffy might always love her, but she could never come out again the way she had before...she’d told Willow they could never see each other that way again.

Even if you don’t choose me, even if your path takes you to someone else, to one of those other loves, I’ll always take care of you, the Slayer had said.

But it wasn’t fair, because Willow had chosen Buffy...she’d done her best, tried to do everything right...

But Buffy hadn’t chosen her...

And now it was over.

Willow was in Buffy’s house, in her room with the one or two more stuffed animals than Willow thought were strictly required, and the Lauren Bacall and Ava Gardner posters on the wall, and Buffy’s jasmine scent covering every surface. Buffy had asked her to stay with her, and Willow was uncomfortable because she was always broke and she shoplifted things to get by, and then she’d blurted out something stupid because she was just stupid, she always said stupid things, and now it was over...she’d screwed up one too many times and now she had run out of chances...

Buffy was looking at her in a way Willow had never seen before. But Willow knew what the look meant. Buffy was letting her go.

Willow felt herself collapsing inside...turning to dust.

She felt cold.

“You think we’re trying and trying, and putting up with your shit, with your moods and your constantly blowing us off, because we feel bad for you?” Buffy said. “Willow and Xander, you think they invite you out because they feel bad for you? Like they look for people less fortunate than themselves to hang around with? They’ve got better things to do. Me? Giles? I’m the Slayer and he’s my Watcher. We save lives. We’ve got better things to do than feel bad for you. Do you really think we spend all day worrying about you and whether or not you’re depressed this week? Okay, yeah, you’re a Slayer. That and a buck buys you a mocha cappuccino in this town. But there’s just gonna be another one after you, so if you go south, we’ll get over it. News flash: you’re not on our minds all day. We don’t spend our days thinking up creative new ways to be nice to you. Because you’re just not that important. So if you want to live in that motel and steal to get by, or whatever it is you’re doing now? Fine. Go ahead. At least you’ll have your pride, right? Your pride, and no friends.”

Buffy turned away from her, and looked out the window.

“You know why we all kept trying to include you?” Buffy said. “The real reason why? My Mom, Willow, all of us? Not because we’re all scrambling around trying to fix your life. It’s because we were stupid enough to like you, and to think you liked us back. That’s it. No big conspiracy. I thought...I thought you liked me. But you obviously don’t. You never want to be with us, you never want to be with me anymore. You’ve got better things to do too, I guess. So hey, congratulations, Faith. We get the message. We give up.”

She turned and looked at Willow, and if Willow could have taken back everything she had said, she would have, when she saw that look in Buffy’s eyes...when she saw the hurt she knew she had caused...

She knew she had lost her.

“If you don’t want to be here then maybe you should go back to Boston, Faith,” Buffy said.

Buffy turned back to the window, and didn’t look at Willow again.

Willow wandered after that. She wandered around town after she apologized to Joyce and left Buffy’s house, heading nowhere in particular...but she knew where she wanted to go. She knew what she was looking for.

She was looking for someplace high.

The night was cold; Sunnydale weather turned on a dime and the day had gone from sunny and mild to cold and blustery. Evan’s leather coat couldn’t keep the wind out; the wind was icy and clever and tenacious. It found every way in, every secret path, no matter how small, and leeched Willow’s warmth away.

There were people out; it was Thursday night and still early. But Willow didn’t notice them; they were shadows. There was music and lights and people laughing and holding hands...she saw someone wearing a sweater with a picture of a boat on it and the name of a yacht club below it.

And Willow remembered a place she had seen...

It would do.

She picked up her pace. After a moment she realized there was no reason to walk anymore; now that she knew exactly where she was going, she might as well get there. So she started sprinting...

Sprinting to the finish.

Willow arrived at Kingman’s Bluff less than ten minutes later. It would have been at least a forty-minute walk and she was in a hurry. She didn’t want to waste forty minutes. She didn’t want another forty minutes.

There was a lighthouse on Kingman’s Bluff; Willow had seen it when she was driving around town with Buffy the morning after they’d first met...later that day, they made love for the first time. Willow had looked around at everything as she drove, that morning; Willow liked new places and Sunnydale was new then.

This would be the last new place.

Kingman’s Bluff was a very tall, almost sheer, rocky cliff-face, overlooking the ocean, and the lighthouse atop it was a conical tower, white at the base and red the rest of the way up, and it was close to two-hundred feet tall by the looks of it. Willow figured the lighthouse and the cliff combined amounted to a good four-hundred foot drop. Not as long a drop as the Prudential Building, but it would do. There were jagged rocks in the water below the cliff, and the ocean was noisy that night; it was high tide and the waves crashed and roiled about the rocks, lashed on by the cold, steady, remorseless wind. But the sea level wasn’t high enough to submerge the rocks; they stuck out from the surface of the water like stone fangs. They would finish the job, if the fall wasn’t enough for some reason. Willow didn’t know how she had survived the fall from the Prudential Building but she knew for a fact she couldn’t pull the same trick twice.

She looked up at the lighthouse.

The sight of the lighthouse standing alone in the near-total darkness of Sunnydale’s black night atop the craggy cliff was beautiful to Willow. If it was the last sight she’d ever see, she thought it was a pretty good one. There was no beam shining forth from the lighthouse, no great, bright light flashing out into the dark and sweeping across that torrid sea, but Willow didn’t care; she knew there was nothing out there anyway...nothing but more blackness.

She looked around. There were low hills, and a concrete path built through them, that looped its way around from the beach all the way up the side of the cliff from the north in a slow, steady ascent. The air smelled like the sea, and there was another scent, too; faint, but still there at the edge of Willow’s perception...Willow had never smelled anything quite like it. It was exotic...

She put it out of her mind and sprinted again. She sprinted along the concrete path, looping around...

She remembered jogging with Rebecca. She used to think running was a pain in the ass in those days, before she became the Slayer and it got easy, but Rebecca always made it okay. And they’d go out for breakfast afterwards... Willow liked the House of Pancakes on Newbury Street, and they went there almost every morning. Willow always ordered a big stack of pancakes and bacon, Rebecca always ordered French toast with cinnamon...

Willow smiled at the memory. But it was gone...all that was left was this. The lighthouse, and the cold...the wind like icy fingers, the salty smell of the ocean, the waves bearing down relentlessly, the rocks like fangs, waiting to kill her...there was nothing else. Her life had been steadily reduced, pared down, to this place; to this last moment.

She reached the base of the lighthouse and saw a rusty old side door. She assumed at first she’d have to kick it in, but it swung open at her touch.

Inside the place was nearly pitch black and it smelled like oil and metal. The air was dusty. Once Willow’s eyes adjusted somewhat she saw a cluttered little office full of notes and charts and esoteric equipment she didn’t understand, but it didn’t seem to have been used recently. There were no scents coming from it. There were two doors. Willow tried the first one; it was locked. She kicked it in. It was an empty utility closet. She saw an old mop and a pail and a roll of yellowing paper towels in the shadows, and a cockroach. She tried the other door; it wasn’t locked. It opened onto a hallway done in peeling yellow linoleum, and a decrepit-looking elevator, the kind Willow had seen in old movies with a door like a metal gate, and there was a flight of stairs. Willow took the stairs; the elevator didn’t look safe. She giggled at herself for skipping the elevator, as she bounded up the stairs in the dark, taking them three at a time.

She reached the top of the lighthouse in less than a minute; the stairs ended at a nondescript wooden door. It was open; she walked through into a circular, enclosed deck with windows all around. She could see the ocean, and hear the wind howling. It whistled and hammered against the windows, and they shook. She looked around and saw a door leading to the outside observation deck and she headed through it. The deck was hemmed around with a thick stone wall, about waist-high, with a black metal rail set into it. Willow sat on the wall, swung her legs around so they dangled off the edge, leaned her head on the rail, and looked out into the darkness; she felt the cold wind, and smelled the salty sea.

Now that she was there, she thought it was pretty nice. It was peaceful. It was cold, and the stone was cold to sit on, but she liked it there. She liked looking out at the ocean, even though there was nothing to see.

“I’m sorry, Becca,” Willow said. Her voice sounded small; the wind and the dark swallowed it up. “I’m just...not strong enough. Not strong enough to save you. Not strong enough to save me either.”

There really wasn’t anything else to say.

It was nice sitting there for the moment but Willow knew that eventually she’d have to return to the world; the world where Buffy lived, the world where she could never have her. The world where Rebecca was dead...

Might as well get it over with, Willow thought.

She couldn’t stand up on the wall; the railing was in the way. She tore a chunk of it off and flung it out into the darkness. It took awhile to hit the water. It didn’t make a sound, as the empty, surging blackness swallowed it up.

Willow stood up on the cold stone, and looked down at the sea. The cliff was sheer, in this direction. She would only need to leap straight out about ten feet, to guarantee she’d hit the rocks. She was the Slayer; it would be easy.

Willow wondered who the next girl would be. She hoped, whoever the girl was, that someone like Rebecca found her.

Willow’s eyes filled with tears.

“I love you, Becca,” Willow whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” someone said. It was a girl’s voice.

Willow whirled around; she nearly fell off the wall.

“Hey, hey! Careful!” the girl shouted, and ran to Willow, and grabbed her hand. “Y-you...you could fall.”

Willow looked down at the girl. She was blonde, with long hair done up in a braid, and big, wide-set, heavy-lidded blue eyes. She had pale skin, wide, full lips, and a voluptuous body. She was wearing a long white wraparound gypsy-style skirt with a pattern of flowers, a white sweater, gray boots and a faded denim jacket, and she carried a big, bulky denim shoulder bag. She wore a pendant on a silver chain; the pendant looked like a crystal. Willow hadn’t noticed her, whoever she was; hadn’t detected her approach...

Willow tuned in to her nose. She recognized the girl’s scent now. It was the exotic scent she’d detected outside. She’d never smelled anything like it...she couldn’t really even describe it, she had no real reference in her head for it. There was a spicy quality to the girl’s scent...the closest thing Willow had ever smelled to it was ginger. But it smelled better than that. It smelled like faraway places... like new possibilities.

The girl’s hand was warm. The girl wasn’t trying to pull her down off the edge of the wall, but she was holding on tight to her, and leaning back a little, to make sure Willow didn’t fall.

“Are...are you okay?” the girl said.

Willow wiped the tears from her eyes with her free hand. She tried to let go of the girl, but the girl wouldn’t let her hand go. Willow could have wrenched herself free, but she didn’t.

“Who are you?” Willow said.

The girl smiled. She had a kind face, and a pretty smile...a warm smile.

“I’m Tara,” the girl said. “I-it’s, um, really nice to meet you? Really nice, in, y’know, an awkward, hey, here we are in the dark at the top of a big creepy lighthouse kind of way.”

Willow looked down at her, in the dark, and didn’t say anything.

“Just so you know? I’m not gonna let go of your hand,” Tara said.

Willow nodded.

“Why not?” Willow said.

“Um...well, it would be rude,” Tara said. “And we haven’t even been introduced yet or anything. I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Faith,” Willow said.

“That’s a pretty name,” Tara said, and smiled again.

“What are you doing here?”

“I, um, come up here sometimes. I s-sort of... like looking out at the water at night. I just got here a few months ago? And once I discovered this place I started sort of hanging out up here sometimes. Do you like, um, come here a lot?”

Willow didn’t answer her. But she looked at her.

Tara flinched a little, when Willow looked at her. Willow didn’t think she was afraid; people’s scents changed when they were afraid and Tara’s scent was the same. She seemed shy...like she wasn’t used to new people and they made her a little nervous. Willow understood that. New people made her nervous too.

Tara looked down for a moment, when Willow looked at her, but then she looked right back up at her again, and kept smiling.

“Um...so like...I have cheese and crackers,” Tara said.

“You have cheese and crackers?” Willow said.

“Um...in my bag?” Tara said. “Y’know, the cheese and crackers y-you get in candy machines, in the, the little plastic thing? Two great tastes that taste great together...wait, that’s peanut butter cups. Now I want peanut butter cups, damn it. Um, okay, I’m babbling.” Tara giggled. It was a soft, goofy giggle, and it echoed through the observation deck. It almost made Willow smile.

Willow sat down on the edge of the wall, and looked out at the water. The wind had died down; things seemed calmer now. The ocean looked nearly serene. It even felt warmer, suddenly.

“Um...mind if I...y’know, sit down?” Tara said.

“Yeah,” Willow said, and didn’t look at her. Tara still held her hand.

“Yeah I can sit, or, um, yeah you mind?”

“Yeah I mind.”

“Oh. Um...okay. Guess I’ll stand then.”

Willow looked down at the water.

“So. Nice view,” Tara said.

Willow looked down at the water. Tara held her hand.

“Do you want some cheese and crackers?” Tara said. “I’m gonna break out the cheese and crackers. I have Diet Coke too if you want some, but it’s kind of all like, warm and flat.”

“What are you doing here?” Willow said, without looking back at her.

“Holding your hand,” Tara said. “Looking out at the water. You?”

“You should go,” Willow said.

“Oh, I get it,” Tara said, and grinned. “So you’re like, the queen of the lighthouse now, huh? Like it’s totally your lighthouse. Yup, Faith’s lighthouse. No one else allowed.”

“Yeah,” Willow said.

“Don’t see your name on it,” Tara said.

Willow pulled her stake from her pocket, and scratched “FAITH”, in capital letters, in the stone.

It was strange, looking at her name scratched in the stone, existing in the world now as a physical thing...for a moment it didn’t seem right. It didn’t seem like the right word.

Tara gently took the stake out of Willow’s hand, and scratched her name in the stone beside hers. She scratched her name in lower-case letters, and in handwriting.

Willow looked down at their names, side by side. Then she looked back out at the water.

“Wanna sit?” Willow said.

“Can I?” Tara said.

“Your lighthouse too now, I guess. Got your name on it.”

“Thanks,” Tara said, and giggled again, and sat next to her. She swung her legs out into the darkness, and then made the mistake of looking down.

“Um...okay...whoa,” Tara said.

“Afraid of heights?” Willow said.

“Would it completely ruin my cool tough chick image if I said yes, absolutely?”

“Your image is fine.”

“Then yes, absolutely. I’m not usually all freaked out up here, but...this is...pretty high. Usually there’s the nice, reassuring guard rail. Which you, um, broke off, I guess? Somehow.”

Willow looked at her. Tara flinched a little, again, but she smiled again too. Willow thought being with Tara felt a little like holding a butterfly in her hand. The butterfly was a rare, beautiful, fragile thing, but if you made any sudden movements, it might fly away. Tara couldn’t meet Willow’s gaze for long; she looked down, or looked out at the water, whenever Willow looked at her for more than a couple of seconds. But Tara kept smiling.

Tara’s eyes, her smile, her whole face, had an ethereal, slightly unreal quality...when Willow looked at her, she felt like she might be in a dream. She thought Tara might be a dream girl...someone Willow had created, from her need. A guide to the unknown, to new places and possibilities...

Tara was something new. Willow hadn’t thought there were any new things left in the world; not for her.

Willow concentrated on Tara’s scent; she liked it. Tara’s scent didn’t seem to come from anything Willow had experienced before. It came from some new place...it wasn’t part of the world Willow had lived in up to now. It was a ginger key that unlocked a door to somewhere else.

“So um, how about the cheese and crackers?” Tara said.

“Okay,” Willow said.

Tara was still holding her hand. She awkwardly attempted to unzip her shoulder bag with one hand.

“You’re still holding my hand,” Willow said.

“Yup,” Tara said, and worked at the zipper.

“You don’t have to,” Willow said.

“I know,” Tara said.

“You can’t work the zipper.”

“The zipper is presenting a problem, yes.”

Willow helped Tara with the zipper with her free hand, and Tara took out four packets of cheese and crackers. They were the same ones Willow used to eat all the time, back when she was homeless. They were easy to shoplift and she liked the way they tasted. The packets each contained four long crackers with a pat of orange cheese in a separate section, and they had a tiny little red plastic knife for spreading the cheese.

Neither of them could get the packets open with one hand. Willow held one of the packets in place as Tara peeled back the plastic.

“I’m not gonna jump,” Willow said. “You can let go.”

“Were you gonna jump before?” Tara said, and took out a cracker. Willow picked up the plastic knife, and dipped it in the cheese, and spread cheese on it.

“Yeah.”

“How come?”

“Lost someone. A couple someones.”

“I’m sorry, Faith,” Tara said.

Willow looked at her. People said they were sorry about things all the time. They said they were sorry to strangers about things that had happened to them, because it was the polite thing to do, even though they didn’t really care. But when Tara said it, she sounded sincere. She sounded like she cared.

“Thanks,” Willow said.

Tara held the cracker out to Willow.

“Cheesycrackeriffic,” Tara said.

Willow took the cracker, and ate it.

“Cheesycrackeriffic?” Tara said.

“Yeah,” Willow said. “Always liked these.”

“But are they cheesycrackeriffic?”

“Okay,” Willow said, and smiled for the first time. “They’re cheesycrackeriffic.”

“The crackers don’t have your name on them, right?” Tara said. “I wouldn’t want to be hogging the crackers if they had your name on them.”

“Don’t seem to.”

“I’m teasing you,” Tara said, and giggled again. “I do that sometimes. You’re kinda like, tease-able.”

“Long as you smile when you do it.”

“I think I can work with that.”

Willow took another cracker out of the packet. Tara spread the cheese on it, and ate it.

“How did you lose them?” Tara said.

Willow looked out at the water.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” Tara said. “I didn’t m-mean to...get all like, up in your personal stuff? Just tell me to shut up.”

“One died,” Willow said. “She was like...a mom to me. She took care of me and then she died. About a month-and-a-half ago. Her name was Becca... Rebecca. But I always called her Becca. She died and...I loved her and...

Willow looked out at the water, and cried.

Tara put her arm around her, and pulled her closer. Willow resisted at first...then she let Tara hug her.

“I’m sorry, Faith,” Tara said, again, as she held Willow close. “I’m sorry about Rebecca.”

Willow nodded, and took in Tara’s scent, and cried...and hugged her back.

Tara still hadn’t let go of her hand.

They didn’t talk after that; Tara held Willow close, and Willow held on to her. Eventually, Tara said, “It’s cold up here. You wanna get out of here?”

Willow nodded.

And they left the lighthouse, and Tara held her hand...

“Okay, uh...so...I’m gonna take off,” Willow said, as they stood outside now, by the rusty side door, and looked out at the water together.

“Um...I got my car here?” Tara said. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride.”

“That’s okay,” Willow said. “I’m good with walking.”

She tried to pull away from Tara, but Tara still wouldn’t release her hand.

Tara smiled again...that dreamy smile, the one from faraway places. She giggled too. It was soft and goofy. The giggle hung there in the darkness around Willow, insistently.

“And I’m good with driving,” Tara said. “Wonder who’s gonna win?”

“Uh...I’m guessin’ you,” Willow said.

“C’mon, Faith,” Tara said. “I’ll give you a ride in my extremely lame car. If you’re good I’ll let you play with the radio.”

Willow smiled, and shrugged her shoulders, and let Tara win.

The car was parked a hundred yards or so up the road past the lighthouse. They walked to it, holding hands.

“You ever gonna let go of my hand?” Willow said. “Just curious.”

“Haven’t decided,” Tara said. “Leaning towards ‘no’.”

“Why?”

“I like you.”

The car was a beat-up light blue 1988 Honda Civic hatchback. It had a good number of dents. It had a big “Bush/Quayle” sticker on the bumper.

“Um...I don’t like Bush?” Tara said. “I just bought the car used a few months ago and when I went to take the sticker off the bumper was all rusty underneath and part of the bumper like, crumbled off. It’s a load-bearing sticker.”

Willow smiled, and shook her head. Tara kept making her smile.

“I’m in the market for a new sticker,” Tara said. “It’s on my to-do list.”

“Okay,” Willow said.

“I don’t like Bush,” Tara said. “Seriously. I’m very not a Republican.”

“Okay,” Willow said.

“It’s an extremely lame car,” Tara said.

“Seen worse,” Willow said. “Trust me. You’re gonna have to let go of my hand for us to get in the car, y’know.”

“Promise you won’t run away? I have a butterfly net in the trunk.”

“I won’t run.”

Tara opened the passenger door for her, and Willow unlocked the driver’s side door for Tara from the inside. The car smelled like Tara, and spearmint gum, and air freshener. It was warm inside.

“The car’s extremely lame,” Tara said, as she started it up. Willow looked at the odometer. The car had a little over sixty-thousand miles on it. “But I really needed the car.”

Tara got it in gear, and took them out of there. Willow looked back at the lighthouse, standing atop the cliff, alone in the dark...it didn’t look beautiful anymore. It just looked cold, and alone. She looked away from it.

She didn’t want to kill herself anymore. But she didn’t particularly want to live, either. She felt like she was at the beginning of something. She felt like she was starting from zero.

She had no idea where to go, or what to do.

“You really needed the car?” Willow said, because talking was easier than thinking...easier than staring at nothing, and trying to create something out of it.

“Well, um, I drive around the country solving mysteries and fighting crime and having sexy adventures? ” Tara said. “I’m really cool that way.”

Willow smiled again.

“Solve any mysteries yet?” Willow said.

“I’m still working on my first one,” Tara said, and giggled. “The mystery of why the car’s air conditioner doesn’t work? After I solve that, in a totally sexy and adventurous way? I’m gonna move on to the mystery of where my cool red pen went, and then maybe I’ll tackle, um, I don’t know, voting fraud? Drug barons? Frankenstein? One of those. You hungry?”

“Guess I could eat,” Willow said.

“The question is, could you eat my cooking?” Tara said. “I have lots and lots of leftover lasagna at my place. So much lasagna. Endless lasagna. Do you like lasagna?”

Tara looked at her, and smiled again.

It was one of those moments, Willow realized. She’d thought there weren’t any left for her, but here one was, right in front of her...

It was one of those moments when Willow felt like she could head in a different direction...to a faraway place...to somewhere new.

Willow had nowhere to go. She didn’t want to go back to her motel. She liked how Tara smelled.

She wanted to be somewhere new.

“I like lasagna,” Willow said.

“Welcome to my shack,” Tara said, as they pulled up in front of Tara’s house and got out of the car. It was a long, low, white ranch-style house with blue shutters. It looked like a lot of other houses Willow had seen around Sunnydale: in California they didn’t like building houses high, they liked building them long. This one had been divided right down the middle to create two big apartments. It stood at the end of a cul-de-sac lined with willow trees, and the little road was quiet save for the sound of crickets. The weather felt warm to Willow now, and the air smelled sweet; she could smell rose bushes in Tara’s front yard, along with the willow trees, and fresh-cut grass.

A beautiful cat peeked out at Willow from behind one of the willow trees, and met her eyes, and purred; she was a sleek white Siamese with green eyes that were bright as diamonds in the dark. Her eyes followed Willow as she walked with Tara through a little creaky wooden gate, and up the cobblestone path through the front yard; the cat never once looked away.

There was a hedge around the front of the house, and the front yard had a bright green lawn and a rose garden, and also a lawn gnome that looked like the most perverted, drunken lawn gnome ever. It kicked back on the grass with a pipe in its mouth and a leer on its ruddy red face and a lecherous glint in its eyes.

“Evil pervert lawn gnome’s not mine,” Tara said.

“I sure wouldn’t trust him,” Willow said. “Bet he’s all grabby.”

When they reached the front door, Willow looked back across the street.

The cat was still there, watching her. She purred again.

Tara opened the door, and looked back at Willow, and smiled.

“Come on in, sweetie,” Tara said, and took Willow’s hand. “I’ll make you lasagna.”

Willow looked away from the cat, and followed Tara through the door, to somewhere new.

Tara’s apartment smelled like Tara, and it also smelled like plants, scented candles, lasagna, incense, various herbs all intermingling together, perfume, and M&Ms. The door opened onto the parlor, and it was dark, even after Tara turned on the lights; it was lit by candles, and two tiffany-style lamps with white and gold stained glass shades, and they filled the room with a warm, golden light.

“I’m not too big on a lot of light at night,” Tara said. “But I can turn the lights up if it’s too dark.”

“I like it like this,” Willow said. “Kinda cozy.”

The room reminded Willow of the living room in Buffy’s house, a little: it was dark and warm and comfortable, and it had the tiffany lamps like in Buffy’s house, and a big monstrosity of a couch like in Buffy’s house too; Tara’s couch was a plush silver-gray one with lots of white throw pillows and a gold quilt on top of it. There was a big glass coffee table in front of the couch with two incense candles on it, and a beautiful silver decorative bowl full of various herbs and powders set in between them, and a big bowl of M&M’s next to it. A gold oriental rug with a white floral pattern covered most of the floor, and the walls were painted a light yellow. There were two big comfy-looking gold leather recliners arranged around the couch, facing an entertainment center with a television and a stereo and a CD tower and a Nintendo system. Concert posters and art prints covered the walls. And there were plants, everywhere: ferns hung in the windows trailing leaves down to the floor, and two rubber tree plants that reached all the way up to the ceiling stood in the corners by the windows, and eight cactus plants crowded on the shelves of the entertainment center. All the plants looked vibrant.

The room was silver and gold, and warm, and full of living things. Willow had never been anywhere like it before. It was new.

Tara was still holding Willow’s hand. She led her to the couch, and sat her down. Willow liked the couch; it was warm and soft and comfortable and it smelled like Tara. She let herself sink into the cushions.

“Want something to drink?” Tara said. “I’ll start up the lasagna, it shouldn’t be long to reheat it. It’s very lame lasagna by the way. You’ve been warned.”

“Guess I’m kinda thirsty,” Willow said.

“Um...soda? Juice?” Tara said. “I’m doing Diet Coke myself. This trunk doesn’t need anymore junk in it.” Tara giggled.

“Diet Coke’s good,” Willow said. “Got no problem with your trunk.”

“It’s got completely too much junk in it. It’s a big junky trunk.”

“It’s not a big junky trunk,” Willow said.

“You’re good for my ego. I think I might have to keep you here. How about I keep you here? And like, make you very lame lasagna and every day you can tell me my trunk is just right.”

“Sure,” Willow said, and smiled.

They sat on the couch together, eating lasagna and M&M’s and drinking Diet Coke. Tara had taken her boots off, and she sat cross-legged on the couch beside Willow. A big plate piled high with lasagna sat on the coffee table. The room was quiet, and warm. Willow thought the room felt like Rebecca’s dining room had felt, sometimes, at night, when it was dark and silent, and the city was quiet outside. It felt special...sacred, somehow. Like she was in church. Willow had to keep resisting the urge to whisper.

“It’s very lame lasagna,” Tara said.

“It’s not very lame,” Willow said. “It tastes good. How come you think it’s lame?”

“It’s all like, gloppy and melty when it first comes out of the oven?” Tara said. “I can never get it like, firm. It gets better after I reheat it but it always starts out gloppy. It’s very lame.”

“It’s not very lame,” Willow said. “Plus I like how you got like, a meatball layer in here.”

“Yeah, the ricotta cheese is good and everything but I like some meat in my lasagna.”

“Me too. I’m big on meat.”

“You can take your boots off if you want. Get comfortable.”

“Okay,” Willow said, and slipped off her docs, and tucked her feet under her, and sat cross-legged across from Tara. “Thanks.”

“So you like my very lame lasagna?” Tara said.

“Yup,” Willow said, as she finished off the last of it.

“Want more?” Tara said. “Still a long way to go to finish climbing Mount Lasagna over there.”

“Yeah,” Willow said. “Thanks.”

“Sure, sweetie,” Tara said, and smiled her dreamy smile again, and took Willow’s plate, and piled two more big servings of lasagna on it.

“Good lasagna,” Willow said, and dug in again.

“So...um...have you been in Sunnydale long, Faith?”

“No,” Willow said. “Just a little over a month. Came out from Boston.”

“Boston, huh?” Tara said, and smiled. “Yup, I figured it was either that or Springfield.”

“Springfield?”

“Um, Simpsons joke. There’s--”

“Mayor Quimby,” Willow said, and smiled. “Goofin’ on my accent, huh?”

“I tease. I’m an unrepentant teaser. You’re very tease-able. And also very from Boston. Maybe extremely from Boston.”

“Boston people don’t have accents. Everyone else in the world does.”

“That’s right, sweetie,” Tara said, and patted Willow’s hand, and giggled. “So what brought you out here?”

“Uh...hey,” Willow said, changing the subject. “I’ve been wondering, what’s all that stuff in that bowl for?” She nodded toward the decorative silver bowl full of herbs and powders.

“I’m...um...well...s-sort of a witch,” Tara said, looking down, unwilling to meet Willow’s eyes.

“You’re a witch?” Willow looked at the bowl again.

For a moment, that feeling came over her again...the feeling she’d had before, when it suddenly seemed like she had access to someone else’s knowledge, someone else’s memories...

“Yeah,” Tara said, still looking down. “The...the s-stuff in the bowl? It’s um, spell ingredients. I...cast a spell before. Um...are y-you like, freaked out?”

Tara was getting nervous. Willow hadn’t known her long but she knew Tara stuttered when she was nervous.

Willow took her hand.

“No,” Willow said. “It’s cool, Tara. I’m not freaked out.”

“Cool,” Tara said, and relaxed, and smiled again. She was a butterfly... Willow knew she had to be careful, or Tara might fly away.

“You have, um, really nice eyes,” Tara said, looking back up at her, and smiling.

“Thanks, T,” Willow said. “So do you.”

“T?” Tara said.

“Uh...I kinda like, give people nicknames?” Willow said. “Tryin’ to find the right one for you. But nah, T doesn’t work. I think you’re just Tara.”

“Sure I’m not Too Much Junk In The Trunk Girl?”

“You got the right amount of junk.”

Willow didn’t know about magic: she knew she couldn’t possibly recognize what was in the bowl, she couldn’t possibly know what spell those ingredients could be used to cast...

But she did. Willow knew what was in the bowl; she knew exactly what each of the ingredients was, and she knew every possible magical use for each one of them in every possible combination. She knew what spell Tara had cast.

She knew Tara had cast a love spell...a specific one, that only a powerful witch could cast with any hope of success. Willow knew it wasn’t a spell to make someone love the caster, or bring someone to her. It was a specific invocation to Aphrodite, a spell that implored Aphrodite to lead the caster to someone she could love...and who could love her...

“I know a witch,” Willow said.

“Seriously?” Tara said.

“Yeah,” Willow said. “Her name is Willow. She can do some major stuff too. She can like find people if she has something of theirs, and she can read people’s memories.”

“The locator spells, I can do,” Tara said. “But, reading memories? That’s... wow. Willow’s powerful.”

“She threw a lightning bolt once, too. Fainted after, but still.”

“Okay, you’re pulling my leg. No way she threw a lightning bolt. No one can do stuff like that. Faith...seriously? Like, no one can do that. I’ve heard stories about people doing it, all witches have heard stories about that stuff but it’s like, urban legends. No one can do that.”

“Will did.”

“You saw her do it?”

“No, but...she and, uh, her friends told me about how she did it.”

“Sure they weren’t pulling your leg?”

Willow thought about Buffy...about the lies Buffy had told her.

“I know Willow wouldn’t lie to me,” Willow said.

“Okay, well, if you say so I believe you, but...wow,” Tara said. “I’ve heard some stuff about this town? Like how crazy stuff happens here but...wow.”

“Said you’ve been here a few months, right? Why’d you come out here?”

“Um...well...I didn’t...really get along with my Dad and my brother too well? And...my Mom died last year and so...I left.”

“Your mother died?”

“Yeah. Breast cancer.”

“I’m sorry, Tara,” Willow said, and took Tara’s hand again.

Tara nodded, and looked down at the couch.

Then she looked back up, back into Willow’ eyes, and smiled.

“Thanks,” Tara said.

“Sure,” Willow said.

“So anyway...I’m originally from Milwaukee. My Dad and my brother were kinda jerks, but things were okay when my Mom was around...but then she died. My high school had offered me a double promotion the year before and I turned it down, but after my mother died I took it and so I was able to graduate early. Then I got an early acceptance and a scholarship to UC Sunnydale and here I am. I don’t start classes until January, but I had a bunch of money saved up so I bought the extremely lame car and I’ve got this place on a short-term lease. Once I start at UC Sunnydale I’ll be living in a dorm over there.”

“How come Sunnydale?” Willow said. “Milwaukee’s a ways away. Just to get far from your Dad?”

Tara looked carefully at Willow, searching her eyes. Then she looked down at the couch.

“If I told you something crazy, would you think I was crazy?” Tara said.

“No,” Willow said. “Remember how I know a girl who threw a lightning bolt? Not too much can rattle me.”

“I’m a witch for a reason, Faith. I’m in Sunnydale for a reason. And the reason is...when I was a little girl, when I was nine years old, someone found me.”

“Someone found you?”

“A woman. She told me she was a witch. She knew me, knew my name, knew all about me.”

“Who was she?”

“She didn’t say. She was maybe like, mid-twenties, and pretty, with dark brown hair and green eyes and like, sort of cute chipmunk teeth when she smiled? Anyway she said...she said she was gathering soldiers.”

“Soldiers?”

“She said there was a war coming, in the future. She told me...okay, here’s where you think I’m crazy. Ready?”

“I won’t think you’re crazy.”

“This woman told me she had traveled through time to find me, and some other people.”

“She...? Jesus Christ,” Willow said, and felt a chill go through her.

Willow tuned in to her senses. She listened to Tara’s heartbeat. She took in her scent.

She knew Tara was telling the truth.

“She said there was a man, an evil man,” Tara said. “Her opposite number in the world. She said he had traveled through time too. He had traveled through time, looking for certain people, and taking them out of the fight, so they would never be a threat to his plans. This woman told me she was fixing the damage he had done. She said I would be important in the war that was coming, and that she needed to make sure to set me on the right path. She gave me this crystal,” Tara said, and held out the crystal she wore around her neck to Willow.

Willow touched it. The crystal was a perfect white sphere, and it felt warm, as if it was generating heat somehow.

“She told me this crystal would bless me and protect me,” Tara said. “She said she had blessed it, and some of her power was in it, and I should never take it off. And I never have.”

“This war,” Willow said. “She say anything else? Like when it happens?”

“Only that it would happen sometime in the future, and that I would fight by her side...that I would fight to save the world from what was coming. And not just me, but other people too...she said after she was done talking with me that she was heading to England in 1972 next.”

“England in 1972?”

“To find another soldier. Um, plus she said she was glad to be leaving 1989 because everyone had bad hair and women wore those business suits with the shoulder pads. She made me laugh. She was cool. In, um, a time-traveling, telling me the world’s gonna end kinda way.”

“Remember anything else about her?”

“Just that I liked her...that I trusted her. That she made me smile. The thing is? She said a bunch of stuff, and I’ve only remembered it all in bits and pieces...when I was nine I didn’t remember much of any of it, other than to never take off the crystal. Then when I was thirteen, I suddenly remembered the spell book she gave me, and the tarot cards, and I started practicing. A year ago, I remembered that she told me I had to go to Sunnydale. I think...she set stuff up in my head... messages that I could only remember when it was the right time.”

“That’s...okay...that story’s heavy. That’s some heavy shit.”

“Yeah. So what’s the verdict? Am I crazy?”

“Nope. You’re on the up and up. I can tell when people are lying.”

“Oh yeah? How can you do that?” Tara said, and grinned.

“Because I’m the Slayer,” Willow said.

“Holy Mother,” Tara said, ten minutes later, and got up, and paced around the room. She went to the window, and looked out. “Vampires. There are vampires...”

“Yeah. I’m not a fan,” Willow said.

“And you kill them,” Tara said, and turned back to her. “You’re a...vampire slayer. You and...Buffy? You and her are vampire slayers.”

“Yup,” Willow said.

“Can they...can they get in? What if vampires try to break into my house?”

“They can only come in if you invite them. This is important, honey. Don’t ever invite someone in to your house when the sun’s down if you don’t know them. Don’t ever do it. You did it with me tonight, and I mean it Tara, I’m the last person you’re ever gonna do it with again, okay?”

“Okay,” Tara said, and smiled. She came back to the couch, and sat close to Willow.

“It’s just that I don’t...I never...had many friends,” Tara said. “I came out here and...it’s...hard to meet people. I’m...kinda shy.”

“You got a friend,” Willow said, and took her hand. “You got me.”

“Cool,” Tara said.

An awkward moment passed between them. Willow suddenly realized Tara was gay.

She saw it in her eyes, in her body language, felt it in the way Tara held her hand. Tara wasn’t really flirting with her, wasn’t making a play for her, but Willow could tell that Tara liked her...

“Don’t go to bad neighborhoods alone at night,” Willow said. “When the sun’s down either be in your house, or in your car, or out where there are crowds. Don’t ever be walkin’ down dark alleys. There’s a magic shop in town, the Magic Box, you go there?”

“Yeah,” Tara said. “It’s where I get my ingredients.”

“It’s in a bad neighborhood, it’s full of vamps,” Willow said. “From now on you only go there in the daytime and you always take your car. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“What friends are for,” Willow said. “So, uh...you mentioned tarot cards... are you good with tarot cards?”

“Sure, sweetie, why, you want a reading? I’ll read you if you want.”
“Okay,” Willow said.

Tara leaned down and pulled a leather pouch from her shoulder bag on the floor by the coffee table, and moved the plate of lasagna and the M&M’s and the decorative bowl out of the way. She took a deck of cards from the leather pouch, and spread them out face up between the two candles.

“Different than the ones I’ve seen,” Willow said.

“You’ve been read before?” Tara said.

“Becca read me,” Willow said. “She was my Watcher...Watchers train Slayers, help them fight, take care of them. She took care of me.”

Tara took Willow’s hand, and kissed her cheek. Willow smiled...and blushed a little.

“You probably saw a Rider-Waite deck,” Tara said. “It’s the standard deck, pretty much.”

“Yeah,” Willow said. “Rider-Waite. That’s what Becca called it.”

“There are lots of different decks, they all have the same cards but like, the illustrations are different? You can use pretty much any tarot deck, it all comes down to what you feel comfortable with, what deck sets the right mood. But this one...it’s special. For one thing, I’ve never seen another deck with these illustrations...I think it’s one of a kind. I think it’s hand-painted. It’s the deck that woman gave to me. Plus it’s...kinda weird too. It...does weird things sometimes.”

“Like what?”

“Well like, um, today? I do like, a daily reading for myself, just to sort of give me an idea of what’s going on, what kind of energy is around me. I just pull out one card every day. Today I got the Lighthouse.”

“That a weird card? Does it mean like, something bad?”

“Faith...there is no Lighthouse card. The card doesn’t exist.”

“Uh...wait. What?”

“Well, basically? I pulled a card out of the deck that doesn’t exist in the deck. Freaky, huh?”

“You pulled a card from the deck that doesn’t exist in the deck?”

“Yeah. It was designed like a major arcana card...”

“Major arcana?”

“Those are the ones that don’t have a suit, like you know, the Star or the Moon or the High Priestess?” Tara said, pointing at the cards on the table.

“Like the Lovers,” Willow said.

“Exactly. Every major arcana card has a roman numeral at the top, from zero to twenty-one. The Lighthouse had the roman numeral twenty-two at the top, and the drawing on the card was the lighthouse at Kingman’s Bluff.”

“That’s...holy shit.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. I was freaked out and I needed guidance. So I shuffled again and prayed to the Goddess and pulled another card, hoping it would explain the significance of the lighthouse...what I should do. I recognized the lighthouse on the card, I knew it was Kingman’s Bluff, and I thought maybe the cards were telling me I should go there, but...I didn’t know why, or what I should be looking for. So I pulled another card.”

“What did you get?”

Tara looked at the cards spread out on the table, and pulled one from the pile, and held it up for Willow to see.

The card was an illustration of a skeleton with a scythe, standing in a grassy field with a bright sun in a cloudless blue sky above. There were beheaded bodies in the dirt at its feet. Some of the bodies looked like kings, others like peasants. The card had the roman numeral thirteen at the top.

At the bottom, it said, Death.

“The cards were trying to protect you tonight, sweetie,” Tara said. “They sent me to help you. They want you to live.”

Willow started to cry.

Tara put her arms around her, and this time Willow didn’t resist, not even for a second, as Tara pulled her close, and held her tight.

“I don’t know...I don’t know why, Tara,” Willow whispered. “I don’t know why, why I should live. I don’t know why.”

“How about...because if you died I’d lose a friend?” Tara said. “And I only...I only have the one. And plus, um, vampires? If you weren’t around I wouldn’t ever leave my house again. Plus you think I have the right amount of junk in my trunk.”

Willow laughed, and nodded.

She stayed close to Tara, stayed in her arms. She liked her scent. Eventually she pulled away, and dried her eyes, but she waited awhile.

“Sorry I got all goofy,” Willow said.

“It’s cool,” Tara said. “You, um, wanna do a reading, or...if you don’t want to, it’s...”

“Let’s do it,” Willow said. “I’ll be cool as a cucumber, promise.”

“Okay,” Tara said. “So what kind of reading do you want? I can do a general reading, or one where you ask a question...I can do career readings, or love readings...”

“What’s a love reading?”

“I can read your future as far as, um, romance goes? If you have someone right now I can do a reading about you and him, or if you don’t I can do one just for you.”

Willow thought about Buffy.

“Just for me,” Willow said.

“Okay,” Tara said, and pulled a card out of the deck, and scooped the rest up and gave them to Willow. “Shuffle these.”

Willow shuffled the cards, and Tara laid the card she had pulled from the deck face up on the table. It was a picture of a woman with long brown hair, sitting on an orange and yellow throne decorated with carved lions. The throne seemed to be in the middle of the desert. The woman wore a golden robe, and a golden crown. She held a long stave in her right hand and a sunflower in her left.

“How come you’re leaving that one out?” Willow said.

“That’s you,” Tara said.

Willow looked at the card again. At the bottom of the card, Queen of Wands was written in flowing script.

“I’m the queen of wands?” Willow said.

“Yup,” Tara said. “You’re a wand. I thought you were kinda swordy at first but nope, definitely a wand. In this spread I always start with a card that indicates the querent--uh, that’s the person getting the reading.”

“Becca said I was a wand too.”

“You’re a total utter wand. This spread is one I came up with myself, for romance readings. It’s a triangle, and the cards at the base tell us about your past, and what’s influencing you romantically, and then as I read up toward the top it tells us what’s going on in your life romantically now, and what your prospects are. The top card is that special someone you’re looking for.”

“What if there’s no special someone at the top?”

“Whatever card is there will give me some kind of answer I can interpret, it can represent a person or an influence in your life. If it’s a negative card it can tell us why you’re not getting any mad lovin’ right now.”

Willow remembered the Slayer. She remembered how the Slayer had loved her the whole night long...

“Could use some mad lovin’,” Willow said.

“Well let’s see if your handsome prince is out there, huh?” Tara said.

Willow handed Tara the cards. For a moment she thought of telling Tara that she liked girls...that she liked her. She thought about kissing her.

Tara laid out the cards, ten of them in a triangle above the queen of wands.

She flipped the first card, the one at the bottom left of the triangle. It was the queen of cups.

“This is where you are now,” Tara said. “This is what brought you here. I’m not gonna interpret until all the cards are up? I’ll just give you an idea of what part each card plays in the story, and then when they’re all up I’ll actually tell you what I see going on.”

“Okay,” Willow said.

Tara flipped the second card, the one to the right of the first along the base of the triangle.

It was the queen of cups.

“What the...?” Tara said.

“You got two queens of cups in your deck?” Willow said.

“No,” Tara said, and flipped the third card.

It was the queen of cups.

“Uh...this is...kinda freaky,” Willow said.

Tara hurriedly flipped the rest of the cards, one after another. Every card was the queen of cups. She grabbed her deck, and spread all the cards out on the table, face up.

Every single card in the deck was the queen of cups.

“Okay hold up, that’s...that’s impossible,” Willow said, sitting up and looking at the cards spread out on the table in bewilderment. “I saw them before I shuffled them. I saw the Death card, I saw a whole bunch of other cards, they were all different. Where the hell are they? Where did they all go?”

“This, this deck...Tara said. “I-it...um...does weird things.”

“Hey,” Willow said, and took her hand. “You all right, Tara? They’re just cards, honey, okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, just kinda freaked out a little,” Tara said. “But...listen. Everyone in the world? Everyone can be represented by a tarot court card. Like how you’re the queen of wands?”

“Yeah, Becca told me that,” Willow said. “And Becca said she was a sword. Plus she came up as the High Priestess.”

“Faith...I’m the queen of cups,” Tara said.

They sat silently together for a moment after that, looking down at seventy-eight queens in white robes, their blonde hair done up in braids, sitting on thrones by the sea, holding golden chalices in their hands. The queens looked very concerned. So did Willow and Tara.

“I need lots and lots of weed,” Tara suddenly said, and stood up.

It was like someone stuck a pin in a balloon. Willow giggled, and then Tara started giggling too.

“Seriously?” Willow said.

“Not much else to do in Milwaukee, sweetie,” Tara said. “But don’t worry, I’m not like a stoner or anything. Mostly I have it in the house for spells; marijuana is a powerful spell ingredient. Once in awhile I’ll smoke a little bit, just to relax. And, me? Needing some hardcore relaxation right now.”

“Heard that,” Willow said.

“You want some? Have you ever smoked weed? It won’t make you like an instant stoner like those commercials say, I promise.”

“Never really tried it but I got offered it a lot at parties.”

“Do you want me to show you how, sweetie?” Tara said, and smiled, in her white gypsy skirt, and her white sweater, and her blonde hair in a braid.

“Yeah,” Willow said.

“I’m gonna make you such a stoner,” Tara said, and giggled, and walked out of the room.

She came back with rolling paper and a big plastic bag filled with pot.

“So uh...how do we do this?” Willow said.

“I’m gonna roll us a nice big joint, sweetie,” Tara said, and sat next to Willow on the couch. “And then we’re both gonna massively chill the hell out. And probably, um, get the giggles? And the munchies. Those M&M’s over there on the table will soon be vital, vital to our continued survival.”

Willow giggled. Tara cleared the tarot cards away and put them back in their leather pouch and put the pouch back in her bag, and then she rolled a joint. She sprinkled a liberal helping of pot onto the paper, and then rolled it up and licked it. When it was done, she lit it over one of the candles on the table, and handed it to Willow.

“Remember to inhale,” Tara said, and giggled.

Willow giggled too, and took it in her mouth, and smoked it. She’d never had a cigarette of any type before and she thought she might start coughing or do something wrong, but the smoke went down smooth and it felt good. It felt warm in her throat, and she liked the way it smelled. After a few tokes she handed the joint to Tara, and Tara smoked too.

“How do you like it?” Tara said.

“Nice,” Willow said. Tara put her feet up on the coffee table, and grabbed Willow’s legs, and put Willow’s feet up on the coffee table too. They sat close to each other, and didn’t talk much, and smoked.

The silence lasted ten minutes, and then the giggles and the munchies swept over them like a monsoon and they were both suddenly laughing at nothing and eating all the M&M’s and then they were playing Super Mario on Tara’s Nintendo, and giggling at that because it was funny like every single other thing in the world, and therefore they should giggle at it.

“Damn gold coins!” Tara screamed at the screen. “Just jump! Jump! Jump and get the frigging coin! Why won’t you jump?!” Willow laughed like it was the most hysterical thing ever and fell over into Tara’s lap and then fell off the couch.

“You are such a stoner,” Tara said, giggling down at her.

Willow giggled hysterically some more, into the rug this time, and Tara got her back up on the couch, said, “No more pot for you,” which caused them both to start gigging hysterically again, and then immediately rolled them both another joint.

And they smoked and played Super Mario and giggled at everything and ate all the M&M’s, and then Tara ran into the kitchen and came back out with more M&M’s and potato chips and Diet Coke, and they had all that too, and smoked some more, and laughed, and sat very close together on the couch...

Willow wasn’t sure when exactly it happened, but they fell asleep. She suddenly noticed that no one had talked for awhile and the little guy on the TV hadn’t jumped for awhile, and she looked over and saw Tara curled up with her head on her shoulder. Willow had felt pretty damn mellow and extremely goofy before but now she felt like herself again. Things didn’t seem funny anymore. But they didn’t seem as bad as they had at the lighthouse, either.

She watched Tara sleep, with her head on her shoulder.

She thought about Buffy...and wondered what she was doing now. She wondered if she would ever see her again.

She liked Tara’s head on her shoulder. She put her arm around her, and held her. Tara was warm. She snored a little. Willow thought it was a cute sound...she thought she could get used to hearing that sound at night. She looked toward the windows. The sky was gray outside; the sun would be up soon.

She saw the white Siamese, in the front yard now, staring at her.

She picked Tara up in her arms, and carried her to the bedroom.

It was a small, cozy room with heavy red curtains and a soft, frilly bed that smelled like Tara. There were scented candles on the bureau that smelled like strawberries, and a collection of crystals on a silver tray between them. An ivy plant with big, bright, bushy leaves hung in the window. The little tiffany lamp with the yellow glass shade lit the room in gold.

Willow laid Tara on the bed, and rested her head on the pillows. She got her under the covers, and made sure she was warm.

She sat next to her on the bed in the dark, and watched her for a moment.

“Thank you,” Willow whispered in Tara’s ear, and kissed her cheek.

The next night, Willow sat in one of the rickety chairs in her motel room, and read Rebecca’s letter again.

Giles had given it to her, after she and Buffy had killed Kakistos. It was the only thing Willow had left of Rebecca now....

She read it, all the way through, almost every day.

After she read the letter, she lay awake in bed for awhile, and thought about things...mostly, she thought about Buffy, and Tara. She thought about how beautiful Buffy had looked, the day she gave her the bouquet of red roses, and called Buffy her queen. She thought of Tara’s goofy giggle, and how warm she was, and how she wanted to kiss her.

But then Willow’s thoughts returned to the same place they always ended up eventually...the place they came back to, at night, when Willow was alone in the motel room and the world was quiet and there were no distractions, nothing to take her mind off the fact that she had nothing left, now...

Willow ran into the elevator and pressed the button for the fifty-second floor, the doors closing just before the cops and the EMT’s reached it. Then she fell to her knees, exhausted and crying. The floor felt cold. She vomited.

A sudden ringing sound startled her. It was the elevator doors opening. She was at the fifty-second floor. She had no memory of the last thirty seconds.

Get it together. Right now.

She looked out at the hallway, and hesitated. She was afraid...afraid she would die without ever getting to ride a roller coaster. That she would never go places or see things, like California, or the Louvre. That Brendan would be the last person she ever kissed.

She thought about her mother. She thought about the time when she was seven and her mother had hit her so hard her skull fractured and she was in the hospital for four days.

She was hurt, she could barely walk...and she didn’t have her stake.

Kneeling on the cold metal floor of the elevator, hurt and scared and exhausted, Willow had no idea how she would fight Kakistos...how she could possibly manage even to hold him off.

She got up, and walked out of the elevator.

More than half of the restaurant was gone now. Thick, black smoke made it hard to see and harder to breathe, creeping into her lungs. She couldn’t see Kakistos anywhere. She looked toward the center of the dining room, where she remembered Trevor’s body was. The whole area was engulfed in flames now.

The area around Rebecca hadn’t gone up yet. Willow jumped onto the bar and ran to her.

Rebecca was naked on the floor, in a pool of blood. She’d been beaten.

Willow put her coat over Rebecca and gently turned her head so she could see her face. It was swollen and bloody, yet Rebecca looked unnaturally pale. Her neck had two puncture wounds.

Willow cried, her whole body shaking.

Rebecca stirred. Willow brushed her tears away, and took her hand.

Rebecca opened her eyes as much as she could, and looked up at Willow.

“Faith,” she said, in a weak, hoarse whisper, and smiled. “My girl.”

Willow kissed Rebecca’s cheek. It was a goodbye kiss, she knew.

“Don’t...forget...dress in layers,” Rebecca said.

“I will,” Willow said. “I’ll always dress in layers.”

Rebecca smiled, and squeezed her hand.

“I love you, Becca,” Willow said.

“Love...you...too,” Rebecca whispered, and closed her eyes.

Willow started to sob.

“I love you, Becca...” she whispered.

Willow’s head fell against Xander’s shoulder, and she started to cry.

“No, no...don’t die...” she said, crying into his shoulder, and shaking her head. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave me all alone...Becca don’t go...please...”

“Will...baby...” Xander said.

“Don’t leave me all alone, Becca...” Willow said.

“Buffy...please,” Xander said, with tears in his eyes. “We gotta...we gotta stop this. She’s scaring me now.”

“I’m all alone,” Willow cried, wailing now. “I’m all alone...I’m always in the cold...I’m cold...”

Willow sat up, away from Xander, and buried her face in her hand, and shook, and cried, her whole body heaving.

“He raped her,” Willow said, her voice breaking. “He raped her and he killed her.”

Buffy had tears in her eyes now.

“Faith?” Buffy said. “Is that...is that you, baby?”

“I loved her, Buffy,” Willow said, looking straight at Buffy with eyes as black as the spaces between the stars. Tears fell from those black eyes, and streamed down her cheeks. “I loved her and she’s dead because I wasn’t good enough! She’s dead because I wasn’t good enough and it’s all my fault!”

“No, baby. No,” Buffy whispered, and hugged her, and held her as she cried. “It’s not your fault.”

“Seventy-two,” Willow said. “Seventy-two people are dead, because of me. I kept count, I kept count, I kept count. Seventy-two.”