Through a Glass, Darkly by Raspberryhat

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: BtVS does not belong to me. I respectfully borrow from Buffyverse in order to construct this story. This work is entirely non-commercial. No person, organization, web-master or otherwise receives any kind of compensation for this work.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse: http://mysticmuse.net
Please ask me first if you'd like to distribute this.
Feedback: Feedback is appreciated, but please be gentle.
Spoilers: Up to S6
Author's Notes: Heartfelt thanks to my beta readers Verdant and Astrangerhere. This would not have been possible without their patient and insightful support.
Pairing: Willow/Tara

Summary: There are more things in heaven and earth...

"Who'd think one little vampire slayer could contain so much blood?" mused Willow as she stepped carefully back from the edge of the crimson pool spreading rapidly across the polished boards of the hall floor.

"Now, where could those insipid slayerettes be hiding?" As she stood listening, Willow caught sight of herself in the hall mirror and paused to admire the image; framed by moonlight, a study in black. She casually brushed a stray lock of jet black hair from her eyes and then smirked. "Definitely more me."

The metallic whisper of a knife being drawn from a block made her turn in the direction of the kitchen. As she crept toward the source of the sound Willow allowed the vermillion sparks of magick that cracked from her fingertips to coalesce and flow into a bright long whip like tendril that curled and danced in the air by her side. "Xander…Dawnie…I've got something to show you," she sang out casually, "I just showed Buffy and she really liked it."

"Willow, I am so sorry!" fussed Buffy as she looked around for a tissue to prevent the spilled tea from further staining the blankets.

Willow's heart was still pounding as she cautiously opened her eyes. She blinked rapidly in the bright morning sunshine and experienced a fleeting sense of relief as she realized she'd been dreaming. Inhaling deeply she realized she could smell fresh mint and frowned as she noticed steam rising off a slowly expanding pale greenish patch on her favorite patchwork duvet.

Buffy fidgeted awkwardly as she watched her friend slowly reach out a hand and touch the mark on the duvet. She rushed on with her apology, "I am sorry sweetie. I just wanted to wake you with some tea, I was trying to move your books out the way to make room for the cup and they sorta fell on it." She broke off and waited hopefully for some kind of recognition that she'd at least meant well. "I just thought you know, on your big day you might like to wake up with some mint tea – "

Buffy saw the faint smile fade. "Oh Willow, I wasn't trying to remind – I mean it's just that, well I know you're nervous what with the trip to England and everything – "

The memory was all too clear in her mind's eye. "Thanks for the tea Buffy but I should start getting ready. I'll see you downstairs."

Buffy paused then nodded. "Take your time." She gave her friend a tight smile and left the room, pulling the door gently closed behind her.

Buffy was starting to wish she had hurried Willow now. She tapped a leather clad foot nervously on the dining room floor. "Willow?"

The red-head sat at the wooden dining table, intent on her laptop and seemingly oblivious to the world around her.

Buffy waited and thought about a suitable, wittily-sarcastic remark to gain Willow's attention. As she was about to speak, her eye was caught by a book lying on the table next to Willow's open laptop bag. What she saw scared her. She took a breath before casually walking over to the table and picking up the book. She lifted it to examine the cover more closely; glancing down at Willow as she did so, but her attention was still elsewhere.

Seeing the book and the expression on her friend's face, Willow quickly realized what her friend must be thinking. The thought of doing anything to upset the delicate balance of their repatriated friendship terrified her. Jumping up quickly, she said, "Buffy, it's not what you think," seeing the skepticism on the Slayer's face she added; "it's a story. Science fiction? About hacking and computers and stuff. Just some reading for the plane."

Clumsily she grasped the book from Buffy's hand and turned it over, trying to show Buffy the critics' exclamations on the back cover. "See, fiction? Not Magick. Not…what you were thinking. Just a story." Willow couldn't quite look at her friend as she spoke. "Buffy, I am still clean. I haven't done any kind of Magick, not even read any spell books, nothing since," she swallowed, trying to make herself say the words, "since I went after Tara's killers."

Despite everything, Buffy still couldn't stop herself from rather bitterly thinking; '…and tried to do away with us and everyone else in the world in the process.'

Buffy couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Willow to have watched the lover she was utterly devoted to, die in her arms. She couldn't feel too sorry when Willow had killed Warren. But Willow's magickal fuelled rage hadn't stopped there, it had gone so much further.

Despite everything Buffy found she felt an unexpected calmness about the whole situation. She reasoned Willow wouldn't be tormenting herself with nightmares if she didn't feel some kind of remorse for what she'd done to Warren and what she'd nearly done to everyone else. And the whole point of Willow going to England was to deal with the whole matter of what she'd actually done, and what she still had the power to do.

Now wasn't the time to worry about almost having ended the world. Worrying about impending apocalypse wasn't that uncommon in Sunnydale after all.

"It's just a story." Willow's heart fluttered nervously, but she tried to make her tone reassuring. "Not communicating with the Dead. Just a story." Seeing Buffy hesitate and her expression relax, Willow stuffed the book quickly back in her bag. She knew that although Buffy was trying hard to be supportive, the slayer did not trust her. Could not trust her. Willow hoped her time in England with Giles' old teacher would help her learn control of the power she carried. Maybe then things would be different. She gave her friend a tight smile, and started to turn back to her laptop. 'Just need to keep it together another couple of days,' she thought.

Buffy found herself trying to stare down big sorrowful green eyes and a hopeful smile. "Okay!" she relented, "but seriously Willow, we don't have long."

Her best friend's smile widened, "I am nearly done," she said distractedly as she sat back down and resumed typing.

Buffy sighed, her resolve crumbled. How could she treat Willow with anything other than kid gloves?

The typing hesitated and Buffy raised her eyebrows, amazed to have got through to her intelligent friend with pure simple BuffyLogic.

Willow slowly pulled down the screen of her laptop until it clicked shut. She turned back to look at her best friend. "Sorry."

Buffy tried to keep the sorrow from her eyes. "Come on, sweetie. You've got a plane to catch."

Willow replaced the machine in her bag. Standing up she grabbed her tan suede jacket from the back of the chair, swiftly slid it on and grabbed her bag. "All set," she said giving her friend a brisk smile.

Buffy wondered how Willow could seem so cheerful. Much as she doubted the veracity of her demeanor, she couldn't bring herself to question it. "Come on then," said Buffy, heading towards the door.

"Wait!" The high pitched voice preceded the heavy clattering of teenage feet down stairs. "Willow!" Dawn sprang off the last step and ran up to her older friend. "Willow. I wanted to say goodbye!"

Willow put down her bag and opened her arms tentatively. As she did so, Buffy's younger sister quickly folded herself into a warm embrace.

"Bye Dawnie," she whispered. Willow looked seriously into her friend's eyes. "Be safe."

Seeing tears welling up, Willow quickly added, "I'll be back before you know it. I would say call, but I am not sure if they have phones where we're going."

Dawn nodded seriously. The backward British country folk. She knew all about them. "You need to look for red telephone boxes. The book I was reading? It said they have them everywhere. Or," she paused, thinking, "or was that mail boxes?"

"I know, don't open the door to anyone, don't go out after dark and if anything happens, the weapons are in the chest that now lives in the kitchen."

Willow followed Buffy down the front steps towards Xander's new car. She could see him through the windshield, he seemed to be frowning as he fiddled with something in the dash. With a grim smile, she remembered the classic he'd driven, years before. The anonymous sedan seemed more suited to the Slayer circle's main breadwinner.

Xander looked up and smiled as Willow entered the front passenger seat. "Will! Ready for London?"

As Willow considered her answer to that question, Buffy interrupted. "Xander! We need to go now!"

Willow pocketed her passport and blinked tiredly. She turned her head slowly, casting her glance from side to side, gently stretching the muscles in her neck. She'd expected the airport to have been busier. A few lone travelers pushed trolleys slowly towards the exits at the front of the arrivals hall.

The terminal building was big. Probably bigger than the whole of Sunnydale airport. Willow looked through the windows of the endless snaking corridors and saw nothing that looked any different from the place she'd left. She figured most airport surroundings looked the same though.

"Right ho," said Giles who didn't seem to be in the least bit tired. She looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

The journey from Sunnydale to England had started badly and descended into near farce. First having their direct flight cancelled. Then being made to wait hours for an indirect flight to Chicago, being delayed again, staying over night and then finally catching a long haul flight to England which arrived in the middle of a rainy night.

"I suppose we have been traveling a long time. You get used to it after a while. Sleeping on planes, dozing in airports." As he spoke, Giles hands wondered through his pockets, checking; passport, tickets, everything properly organized.

Willow saw the sadness in Giles' eyes and looked away, immediately regretting her words. Again she realized she just didn't know how to be in the world and why anyone should feel anything but contempt for her. He'd tried to teach her to respect magick but she'd so quickly outpaced his abilities his words had seemed…irrelevant. Her most bitter regret was that with Tara she'd started to understand herself. But her own pathetic need to prove her self-worth had led her to reckless abuse of her innate magickal abilities. She'd driven Tara away from her and yet still her lover found it in her heart to forgive her and Willow had felt healed by their union. She always had. But when Tara was killed it all fell away. Leaving just power and the need for vengeance.

When Giles, Buffy and the others had tried to stop her she'd not only swept them out her way, she'd hurt them. Killing Tara's murderer had been easy but it did nothing for her, so she'd turned her anger on the hateful world that could allow Tara to die.

In the last few weeks, Giles had spent hours counseling her. He'd explained how he suspected there was no justice this world could offer for what she'd done. She'd killed someone who was outside of human society and for the infinitely greater crime of directing her power against mother earth, who could administer justice for that?

There was only the practical and urgent need to help her master her power. He'd explained how he knew someone in England who could help her. The woman's name was Elizabeth.

She may be able to help. A big part of Willow's problem was she couldn't accept that she could not be punished for what she'd done. For now the only way was to avoid thinking about any of it. Take each minute as it comes. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. When she opened them she smiled at her friend and asked, "Where does the great Elizabeth live?"

"It's too late to catch a train to the retreat tonight. Elizabeth keeps a house in central London. We'll stop there tonight and travel down to her tomorrow. Some rest should do us good."

Willow hauled her shoulder bag higher, grabbed the handle of her flight case and set off after Giles. She wished things could have been different. She and Tara had talked about coming to England together. They'd planned it all out; what sights they'd go see, where they'd stay. It would have been after graduation. A chance to decompress. She'd planned on writing a travel diary that she and Tara could look back on when they were older. After Tara had come back to her, Willow had even gone and bought a little book; a hundred or so pages of handmade paper. She'd marked the first page with a small notelet upon which were the lines of a short love poem in Tara's neat script. Tears formed in her eyes and suddenly a tightness in her chest made it hard to breath. She stopped and closed her eyes, struggling to regain her composure. Looking up Willow wondered if the Goddess saw her. Every day since…what she'd done, she'd prayed for understanding of the point of her life. All she knew right now was she had to follow Giles.

The gentle rocking motion of the carriage and the comfortable seat made sleep a temptation. At first, she'd stared curiously out the window, watching the world travel quietly by. Industrial areas marked out by white floodlights gave way to the sodium glow of residential areas. As they drew nearer to the city, houses in turn gave way to more space efficient apartment buildings and then office buildings. Willow felt a very long way from home.

Looking across the aisle she saw Giles was asleep, head lolling forwards, bobbing gently with the movement of the train. She felt better seeing the older man was not completely impervious to fatigue.

She'd not been able to settle during the flight. Being around so many people was very hard for her. The noise in her head was constant. In the first few days aftermath of what she'd done, sleep had been difficult. Unable to trust herself even to open a book of herbal remedies she'd been forced to rely on conventional pharmacology to help her rest. Unfortunately, with sleep came dreams and the chances of real rest were little.

During her waking hours she'd started to become familiar with pain killers. With concentration she could quell the noise in her brain but that took effort. If she went where there was a lot of people or if her concentration slipped she would be left with a pounding migraine.

She knew she couldn't go on this way for much longer. Maybe Elizabeth would be able to help her. Giles hadn't really been clear on quite how she could help, but he seemed to believe in this woman whom he said he'd known many years. With a resigned sigh, she let her head fall back and closed her eyes.

Willow crept quietly around the old Yew and frowned when there was no one there.

She looked around curiously and then smiled as she saw the old gazebo at the far end of the formal garden. A hexagonal affair, of wood, glass and an open door way. Perfect for a person to hide in if she crouched down tight against the wall. Willow walked nonchalantly towards the gazebo and stopped at the bottom of the wooden steps. Then in a stage whisper, said, "I wonder where that sneaky witch could be hiding."

She smiled as she heard shuffling from inside the gazebo. She crept up the stairs, and spun around, pointing a finger accusingly at the blonde woman crouched beneath the wooden panel.

Still crouched, Tara looked up at her lover and small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. She stood up slowly, placing her hands on her hips.

Willow raised an eyebrow and smiled. She looked around, then, satisfied they were alone, reached out a hand and hooked her finger in the waistband of the blonde's lilac velvet jeans and pulled Tara toward her. She looked into playful eyes, leaned forward and planted a tender kiss on sweet lips, then pulled away smiling contentedly.

Quick as a shot, Tara exclaimed, "My turn!" and ran off into the gardens. Willow stood looking surprised and staring after her girlfriend. She blew a lock of short red hair out her eyes and thought, 'Where would Tara pick to hide?'

Willow placed her hands on her hips and counted slowly under her breath. She'd seen Tara run towards the maze. At the count of six, she grinned and headed out. Willow paused, trying to make herself very quiet. She pressed herself against the privet and listened intently for the noise she'd heard from around the corner. She heard a stifled giggle. Smiling, she took a breath and then leapt out from around the corner.

The verdant corridor ran to what she could see was the centre of the maze. Tara had sounded so close, just around the corner, she'd been sure. She looked around, confused. Then heard it again; gentle laughter. Smiling, Willow started walking towards the centre of the maze.

She emerged into the central square which was paved with well trodden grey slate. In the exact centre stood a sundial marking the hour with a deep black shadow. Willow looked around, bewildered. Tara could not have come past her and she knew it was Tara she'd heard. She looked again at the sundial and into the shadow of the hour. As she looked, she began to feel dizzy. The shadow seemed to grow longer, moving across the slate towards her. Then the darkness was at her feet and growing wider. She gazed into the blackness and could feel herself being pulled. As she started to lose her balance, utter, paralyzing dread rose within her.

Willow shuddered and sat up, blinking her eyes and trying to remember where she was. Subdued lighting and quietly chattering slim TV screens in the train car wall. London. 'Train carriage wall' she corrected herself with a smile. She reached up an unsteady hand and pushed hair from her eyes. Her forehead felt clammy. The summer night was warm and humid. Again, not what she'd been expecting. She just assumed it would be raining all the time. Looking across at Giles, she was rather disconcerted to see the older man was wide awake and watching her over the top of his glasses. She offered him a friendly smile. "Much further to go?" she enquired.

He paused before answering, then looked at his watch. "We should be at Paddington in about five minutes. From there, the tube'll take us into central London. Elizabeth's house isn't far from the station."

Leaning on the extended handle of her upright wheeled suitcase Willow watched curiously as a little rat scuttled out from behind one of the track mountings, ran along the tunnel floor and then out of sight again. She looked up and down the length of the tunnel. Everything seemed old, overused and in disrepair. Strips of old advertisements hung ragged from the tunnel wall giving the place a rather neglected feel.

Giles looked at her perplexedly. She looked tired, exhausted even. "It's not far once we come out the tube."

The train car seats looked comfortable but were littered with commuter detritus. Willow chose a clean spot and seated herself. It was hot in here. She picked up a newspaper from the seat beside her and fanned herself with it. As the train moved off, gathering speed, cooler air blew through the open carriage windows. The overall effect was rather soporific.

Willow's eyes had barely been closed a few seconds when they snapped open again. Loud, urgent voices were everywhere. Her brain pounded against her skull as she struggled to keep her mental barrier working. As the train continued its journey into the heart of the city the noise in her head intensified. The energy of unknown people, densely packed into the city seemed to pulsate in time to some unknowable rhythm. Patches of quiet, just long enough for a microsecond's hope that the next burst of pain wouldn't come and then it would crash over her again. She screwed her eyes tight shut, wishing their destination closer.

Willow stepped off the top of the escalator and reached into her shirt pocket for her train ticket. The hot, thick atmosphere of below thinned out, giving way to a different but no less varied set of smells.

The station was almost deserted. At one end of the row of exit gates, an old man sat on a stool, body slumped against the wall. He stared off into space, unmoving. Willow looked at her ticket and then at the automatic gate. She flipped the ticket in her hand and then pushed it into the thin slot in the front of the machine. A brief whir and her ticket popped out the top and the gate slammed open, making a racket of metal on metal. She jumped at the suddenness of the movement and quickly lifted her suitcase up and walked briskly through.

She stopped a few steps beyond the gate and waited for Giles who was struggling with his bags. She looked around. The place was in some disrepair. There were a few basic amenities; ticket machines, an ATM and even a small news kiosk, metal shutters battened closed, the dull metal emblazoned with graffiti.

Exit signs to various streets pointed off in different directions. She didn't know which way they wanted. Giles walked up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. She jumped again, feeling a rush of adrenaline and other, more primal energy pump through her body.

They walked out of the main concourse and headed down a narrower, badly lit exit tunnel. Those lights that were functioning shimmered gently off puddles of filthy water. The tiled walls were stained with tribal markings and there was the unmistakable smell of urine. As they were about to round the next corner, Willow heard a thud and then what sounded like a stifled scream. She looked at Giles, eyes wide with concern.

Watcher and witch rounded the corner at a run and stopped suddenly at the scene before them. Within the weak illumination from the single remaining unbroken strip light, a huge, muscular man held his right arm around the neck of a terrified looking young woman. He gripped her so tight against him that her fragile body was lifted slightly from the ground. The fluorescent blue reflected unpleasantly off the girl's tear streaked face.

Willow swallowed and found her throat constricted and dry. She saw that in his other hand the man held a large hunting knife to the girl's stomach. The point of the knife had cut her pale summer dress. Around the cut seeped a crimson stain.

The man's features were partially obscured by long greasy hair which brushed against the side of the girl's face. Willow felt sick as she looked into his malevolent face and felt the simplistic emotions in his head.

Crouching at the girl's feet, another man, this one was gaunt with unnaturally white skin and an expansive mass of tight curled black hair. His long fingers were riffling through the contents of the girl's pocketbook. Seemingly not registering their presence, the gaunt man carried on going through the girl's things, muttering to himself as he did so. Occasionally he'd pull an item out, study it momentarily and then throw it away. After some moments of this, he pulled out a plastic compact and examined it uncomprehendingly.

Willow saw the man's finger nails were long and yellowed with jagged ends. He struggled to hold the device. Then figuring out how to operate the catch, he clumsily opened it. He looked into the mirror, turning his head slowly from side to side, his expression broadening into a grin. He looked down at the palette of colored powders and extended a bony fingertip into a tea rose red. He looked at the reddened tip, then lifted the finger to his face and began to trace a circle around his cheek. Replacing his finger in the powder, he lifted it again and painted a circle on his other cheek, as he did so, carelessly scratching the skin with his jagged finger nail.

He looked at his handiwork in the mirror and smiled broadly. Abruptly, he dropped the compact and looked up at Giles and Willow who gave an involuntarily start and took half a step back. The man – what she'd thought was a man – had dozens of dirtied, short, needle like teeth.

Staring intently at her, the creature slowly stood up. He looked at Willow thoughtfully before inclining his head in mock deference. He looked over at Giles who was standing a half step behind Willow and no longer smiling.

Addressing Giles, the gaunt creature spoke slowly and in what sounded to Willow like an east European accent. "Now then. What you need to do, is take your…friend here, turn around and go back the way you came."

Giles didn't move for a beat and then very slowly, hands raised in a gesture of calm he took a step forward to stand alongside Willow.

Willow's eyes stayed locked with the gaunt man and her stomach tightened as she heard a squeal of pain. She broke away her gaze to look at the girl and saw her eyes, wide and tears streaming freely down her face. The red stain on the front her dress was much bigger now.

She knew what he wanted. A feeling of overwhelming despair swept through her. This was going to keep happening. She'd never have a chance to get better because there'd always be something worthy of sacrificing herself. Maybe she deserved it.

She turned her head minutely until she could see Giles out the corner of her eye.

Giles gripped the stone in his pocket tightly and whispered with more confidence than he felt, "Trust me."

She hesitated only a moment before grasping his proffered hand into a tight grip and turning back to face their two antagonists. Speaking quietly, with an authority that despite himself, Giles found disturbing she said, "Obscuro."

The sound of the word amplified, penetrating the tunnel walls and everything around. Willow felt Giles' grip tighten and she jumped fearfully as a strangled cry of pain escaped his tight set lips. Something was wrong, but it was too late to do anything as the air had already thickened and taken on a grainy sepia quality that would soon become deep black as the magickal invocation completed. Willow turned back to their aggressors in time to see the thin man's anemic features form around a shrill cry before darkness closed over him. Then there was just deep ringing silence.

Standing very still, all she could hear was the sound of her own heart thumping. Her fists clenched and unclenched involuntarily and she felt sweat trickle down her palms. She closed her eyes and breathed deeper, trying to calm herself.

The flickering light returned. Relief was fleeting as looking around, Willow realized that not only had the two creatures gone, but so had the young woman and so had Giles.

A metallic squeaking sound and Willow's glance was drawn sharply back to her left and to an anonymous, featureless door set back into the side of the tunnel. Painted the same color as the tunnel wall, it was easy to miss. This must have been where the woman's attackers had lain in wait. Or was it abductors? Had they taken her?

Willow was fairly sure she had seen the door as they'd come running to the woman's rescue, but the situation in hand had allowed her to pay it little attention. Had it been open before? Would a service entrance in the underground be left unlocked? She doubted it. She looked around to see if anyone was coming. Satisfied she was alone and could hear no footsteps, she reached towards the door and drew it open.

Darkness. She stopped and reached into her pocket. She pulled out her keys which she'd stuffed in her pocket on habit when leaving Sunnydale. Attached to the ring was a miniature flashlight. She'd bought it a few months before, during her initial recovery period when she'd been trying to think how she'd be able to prove to Tara that she didn't need magick for anything. She'd remembered her little Fiat Lux charm and decided to always have a flashlight with her so she didn't need magick for everyday things like seeing in the dark. She'd looked forward to showing it to Tara but somehow there'd never been the chance.

The beam was quite feeble in the pressing darkness, but it provided enough for her to see she was standing in the entrance to a service tunnel. She felt around the wall on the inside of the door, looking for a light switch, but found none. Swallowing nervously and holding the flashlight up before her, she started to pick her way forward. Perhaps Giles had pursued the two creatures this way?

The tunnel sloped gently downwards which made walking in the gloom easier. She walked for some minutes before the tunnel wound to the left, lead her on for another couple of minutes before turning to the left again. The downward spiral continued for a few more turns, taking Willow deeper until, at the end of the next section she saw light.

The light was a crude affair mounted on the wall above a round hole in the tunnel floor. At the top of the hole, a rusty metal ladder invited her curiosity. Willow stopped for breath and to think. She'd no idea where the hole went or what kind of danger she could be walking into. Yet strong instinct told her to look.

Carefully, she lowered herself down, rung by rung. Soon the light was gone and she was just descending deeper into the darkness. She'd been counting the rungs at first, but soon became more concentrated on her breathing. A small part of her brain wondered if this actually went anywhere or what the chances were of the rusty metal breaking off and leaving her trapped down here. As she brushed that thought away, she heard a noise. Indistinct at first, but as she climbed lower it became clearer, more regular; percussive.

Then, below she could see warm flickering light and before long she was emerging into a long, curving low ceiling tunnel and incongruously, into candle light. Spaced neatly, every five feet or so, tall brass candle holders carried what must have been hundreds if not thousands of candles.

Seemingly alone, Willow turned around, trying to locate the direction of the percussive noise. The acoustic properties of the tunnel made it difficult to be sure. Now she listened the sound was all around, constant and intense. Again going on instinct she turned to her right and followed the curve of the tunnel.

The place was unsettling. Clearly this place was occupied, but by whom and for what purpose? The fact there was nobody around now, only suggested there would inevitably be so before long.

Then she saw the end of the tunnel in the centre of which was a neat black door. As she got closer, Willow saw, mounted on the wall next to the entrance, a small wooden framed glass case. Inside the case was a single sheet of white card. Willow read the black letters embossed on the card.

Despite the fact that Willow knew she was going to go in, she dawdled by the door. She didn't like what it said on the card. "Come on then, get it over with," she told herself. She had to step to the side to avoid a battered mannequin that lay against the wall next to door, limbs disjointed, reddened lips pouting. She grimaced at the rather odd sight, before reaching for the handle.

To her mild surprise, when she pressed the slim aluminum handle, the door opened quietly and easily inwards. Another corridor. She grimaced. It was darker here, at the end of the passage she could see a single candle mounted either side of another door. The narrow corridor was lined with shelves stacked with plain cardboard boxes. As she walked, Willow thought she could hear voices. The percussion was definitely stronger and more pervasive here. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she tried to be very quiet as she walked towards the door.

She could hear voices beyond the door. A lot of people she thought. She reached for the round handle and turned it. Her heart gave a thump as the mechanism gave a quiet click and released. Very slowly, she eased the door open a fraction and looked inside.

The noise grew in volume. She grimaced as the stench of thick, stale smoke, drink and Goddess knew what else filled her nostrils. Carefully, Willow pushed the door open just enough so she could slip through. Trying to stay hidden in the shadows, she looked around. No one turned suddenly as she entered.

She was standing in vast cavern. Elliptical, high ceiling vaulted with great rusted iron girders. Towards the back of the cavern was a circular bar. A spiral of multi colored bottles rose high from the very centre. Busy looking 'things' were mixing complicated looking drinks in large glasses for the crowd pressing in around the edge of the bar.

Around the edge of the cavern, tables clustered in the shadows, drinkers hunched low and conversing in hushed voices. Above the persistent drumming, Willow expected to hear music, but there were only voices, loud and some in languages she didn't know.

At the other end of the cavern, a crude stage. Empty right now and shrouded by a tattered red curtain. Willow approached an empty nearby table and sat down gingerly. She tried to be inconspicuous and not catch anyone's glance.

There were all manner of creatures here. Young vampires dressed in shiny black leathers posed by the bar, holding up their drinks and downing the contents, smashing the glasses down on the bar top. And roaring for more. In the crowds moved colorful females, each dressed in silk clad bodice, thigh high leather boots and long silken gloves. Each carried a tray of glasses loaded with dark liquids.

As she was looking around, someone from a table across the other side turned suddenly and caught her glance. Willow recoiled, frightened. The woman smiled coquettishly. Her face was anemic. Willow's eyes were drawn to the bolt that pierced her nose. But the thing that frightened her, was her oily black eyes that roamed the room and had settled on her.

She looked away. Her observations were disturbed by a noise from behind her. The deep red stage curtain was slowly rising on creaking pulleys. People were turning towards the stage. Voices hushed and a murmur of anticipation rippled through the crowd. The curtain finally disappeared into the ceiling and the stage stood empty. The tension in the room built as hushed voices whispered excitedly. Willow felt an unpleasant prescience.

Along the front of the stage, limelights flared brightly and the drum beat became louder. Then, a man was walking with slow, measured steps onto the stage. He stopped about a third of the way across the boards and stood very still. He wore long silk robes of deep blood red. Around his waist, an obi tightened the robes to a thin waist. His white face was made up with tea rose rouge.

Willow gripped the edge of the table. The man wore fine white gloves and in his right hand he held a violin by the neck. In his left hand he lightly grasped a bow. Strangest of all, perched on the man's nose were delicate pair of pince-nez. Willow thought he looked like some bizarre parody of Sherlock Holmes' arch enemy, Professor Morriarty.

Expression impassive, he inclined his head to one side and the onlookers fell quickly silent. Willow edged further back against the wall seeking the safety of shadow.

Morriarty bowed low. With great ceremony, he raised the violin into position and with his other hand, readied his bow. The hall was now completely silent.

He began to play. Notes tumbled from the delicate instrument. Willow immediately recognized Paganini. How could she not? Within the dark texts she'd absorbed had been the maestro's name. She felt a knot in her stomach and swallowed hard, trying to focus on the problem here and now.

She found her attention diverted from the musician to a rather extraordinary scene unfolding upon the centre stage. A cold, filmy mist was descending from the rafters above the stage. Light reflected off each droplet, making the mist sparkle and shine.

The violinist was becoming more animated as he worked his way towards the climax of his piece.

The mist fell in a perfect circle upon the stage and it began to thicken, creating a shining grey cylinder of light.

The violinist arced his bow to the top of the last scale and then drew it away from his instrument with a flourish, letting the last note hang in the air.

In the centre of the stage, the cylinder of light started to dissolve. As the mist descended to the stage floor, Willow was horrified to see, crouching on the floor, wet and frightened in the centre of the mist was the young woman from the underground.

Her first instinct was to rush the stage, but she thought better of it. Her lips curled into a smile as her second instinct began to take over and her own eyes started to darken. With the greatest effort, she managed to push her instinct back. Her heart fluttered as she thought frantically.

Then the bowman took up again. This time the piece started slowly, creating a ponderous buzzing around its victim.

The girl's frightened eyes darted around, agitated and scared. Uncertainly, she stood up and as she did so, her hands unconsciously tried to smooth out her sodden dress.

Pausing momentarily, the violinist looked at the girl and his impassive expression became a hint of a smile.

Willow watched the girl's eyes widen with fear. She seemed to be talking to herself, her lips moved, but Willow couldn't hear the words. Then the girl stiffened and fell silent and stared down at the stage before her.

Leaning forward curiously Willow tried to see what had drawn the girl's attention. She paled as she realized what it was. Her shadow was moving.

The girl's black image seemed to swell and then began to lengthen, creating a misshapen visage. Independent of the light that gave it life, the shadow began to move around her. The darkness stood directly behind her, growing and tracing across the stage and up the white screen behind her.

The girl seemed to be in a trance now. Could she sense the thing growing behind her?

The violinist's playful buzzing tune increased in urgency and as it did so, the shadow stopped moving. It stood tall against the back screen, dwarfing the girl. The audience gasped and the sound seemed to shake the girl from her trance. The shadow was taking on substance, peeling itself out of the white screen, forming a completely black image of the girl.

Willow saw the girl shudder and try to turn her head, but fear prevented her. The young girl clenched her fists and with a look of determination, she turned around. At the sight of her adversary she fell to her knees.

The shadow moved slowly forward and in one smooth movement, began to contract. The shadow shrank until it was a completely black and perfect, equal sized replica of the girl. It stepped forward and knelt before its progenitor.

The girl, looked curiously into the blackness before her and smiled. The shadow inclined its head. Wishing she could stop her, but not knowing how, Willow watched as the girl reached out a hand.

Mirroring the girl's movements exactly, the shadow reached out its own hand towards the girl's face. A dark hand gently cupped her cheek. This seemed to calm the girl, the corners of her lips curled into a smile.

The shadow's hand descended from the girl's cheek and rested over her heart. And then with no warning, the deep black hand simply pressed forwards, through cloth, into and through her skin.

Her mouth rounded into a scream, but there was no sound above the violin and thundering drums. The girl's eye balls rolled upwards, leaving a milky white, sightless gaze.

Willow stared at the stage and as seconds ticked by she realized the room was becoming brighter. A kind of pale white light was emanating from around the shadow's hand. The light intensified and Willow realized that it was actually emanating from within the girl, from within her heart. In bright white, the shadow was an even more menacing template of darkness.

Abruptly, the violin stopped now, but the drums beat on. The soloist stepped away from the unfolding scene, shielding his eyes against the glare.

The white light began to pulsate slowly and as it did so, those nearer the front began to stand and move closer to the stage. The energy flowing from the girl intensified further and with it, more people surged forward to feel the light. The pulse began to quicken, growing into a brilliant white strobe and the masses pressed forward, faces upturned, eyes closed.

Willow stared, a mixture of fear and disgust in the pit of her stomach. When the light touched her it raised within her an intoxication she had not felt since the height of her magickal addiction and that final power trip that had nearly ended it all. She felt sick at herself for her involuntary reaction as the poor victim's life was drained away. She desperately wanted to resist her body's desire for more and to do something to stop this horror. But, as the young woman's body slumped forwards she knew it was too late.

Willow stood up, tears rolling down her cheeks. As the body expelled its final breath, a multi-hued, reflective halo surrounded her corpse, tendrils of colored energy tightly roiled, holding for an instant, before blowing outwards with savage force.

The wave penetrated everything in its path, leaving behind a warm turbulence. Willow watched it approaching with a horrible sense of inevitability. She managed only a regretful smile before it hit her. The Hyde-like transformation was swift.

She remembered the feeling of exhilaration during the transformation. It started with a darkening of the vision, before other senses heightened, revealing a world of dancing fibrous energy.

Willow gazed around at the crowd of onlookers, heads upturned, eyes closed, bodies swaying as they felt the power. She could see the veins in their bodies expand and brighten as they absorbed the energy flooding through the room. She smiled gently as her blackened locks blew out behind her.

Willow walked slowly down the dusty street and wondered where everyone was. The summer evening air was warm and familiar. Although the hour was late there was still a trace of light in the sky. She looked around as she ambled past the back gardens of a long row of wooden, detached family homes.

Something caught her eye, and she stopped. She turned to face the garden gate of one particular house and realized she'd been here before although she was hazy on when that might have been. A small wooden sign on the door read, "Summers." Had that been there before?

Opening the gate and stepping through, Willow immediately felt at home. She surveyed a neatly kept lawn and narrow flower beds dense with vivid blooms. In the centre of the garden, some wooden chairs were casually arranged as if only just vacated.

She turned and looked longingly into her lover's round blue eyes. "Tare, we're home."

Tentatively Willow reached out and extended her small hand towards Tara who smiled reassuringly, entwined her fingers with her own and lead her towards the wooden bench on the back patio.

With her hand still held in her lover's protective clasp, Willow seated herself next to Tara, closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. She smiled as she felt Tara's left index finger trace little circles on the back of her own hand.

"Remember when we used to live here? I used to love it when everyone else was out and we'd just sit here under a blanket and stare up at the stars." As she spoke, Willow looked upwards and saw distant stars glitter against the dark night.

She sat up suddenly as a memory hit her. Tara watched her love thoughtfully wondering where her sub- conscious would take her next.

"Goddess! I saved my best friend's life. Right over there. Buffy was shot! The bullet was lodged near her heart. They took her to the hospital but they couldn't do anything. So I went and I pulled it out of her. She was alright. I saved her."

Willow hardly heard the words as memory played. She looked down, her expression sad, bitter. "Did she thank me?"

She turned suddenly to look at Tara her eyes searching for understanding. "Why didn't she thank me? All she did was try to get in my way."

Tara couldn't look at Willow as she spoke. "Willow…you know Buffy was trying to help you do the right thing."

Willow's voice faltered as she spoke the hollow words she'd continually uttered to herself, "I confronted evil. I did what had to be done. You could hardly call it killing. He should never have been born into this world in the first place."

As she looked down at Willow's hand her long blonde tresses trailed across her eyes shading her sorrow.

Desperately Willow continued, "It's what I've always done. Me and Buffy, we fight the bad in the world." Willow felt her tears stinging as she looked for Tara's forgiveness.

Tara looked up and Willow saw not her lover's innate serenity but simple sorrow. "Willow it hurts to see you cry."

"Will, he used his power to try to change what he didn't like about the world as well."

There was a deeply painful irony. Willow had no answer other than that which had driven her to act in the first place. "He took you away…He took you away!"

Willow shut her eyes and breathed. "I know. I lost you. It all comes back to me. If I had been a better person…it all would have been different. You'd still be here."

Willow squeezed Tara's hand and shut her eyes trying not to think of the moment she'd felt her lover's beautiful soul leave her. The tear had left a hollow burning pain in her that she didn't think she'd ever get over.

Shakily, Willow, hardly dared ask the question that floated in her mind. "Tara…stay with me? Please stay with me."

As she spoke the words, Willow started to feel dizzy and felt herself swaying toward Tara. She closed her eyes for a moment trying to center herself and as she did, Tara gently guided her down until she was lying with her head resting in the blond witch's lap, eyes tight shut. Tara ran her hands through soft red and whispered, "I am here Willow."

The world began to fade away and Willow experienced a sense of movement, but she didn't know where she was or where she was going. In the void, she clung onto the memory of the sound of Tara's voice, her words, her touch.

Giles looked thoughtfully at the small black shard in the palm of his hand. It was all that remained of what had been a much a much larger piece of obsidian. He'd rather naively thought it would help control Willow's magick when he'd asked her to help them evade the two attackers in the underground. He replaced the stone in his pocket and looked at the palm of his hand. The burned flesh was healing nicely. He knew it could have been a lot worse. Reflex had made him let go as the magick flowing through the stone had caused it to start to super heat and begin to disintegrate.

He heard footsteps in the hall, turned in his chair and looked up. Elizabeth stood framed in the attic bedroom doorway. Ever since he'd first crossed paths with Elizabeth, he'd always found her difficult to read. He waited patiently for his old mentor to speak.

Elizabeth looked thoughtfully over Giles' shoulder towards the unconscious redhead lying, seemingly peaceful, on the single bed near the back of the small room. "It wasn't discharging magick that put her into that state."

Elizabeth gave him a pointed look as she entered the room and sat down in the chair opposite Giles'. "Rupert, ever the optimist."

He gave her a helpless look. He'd never been able to hide his emotions from her. She'd known him at his worst but always seemed to see beyond the surface.

"Just because she didn't draw magick, that doesn't mean magick wasn't involved. From what you've told me about her, even involuntary exposure to magick could have caused some kind of reaction."

Elizabeth hesitated, "It's as though she 'fell' out of our reality. And then somehow, probably not long after, she came crashing back through."

Shocked, Giles asked, "What exactly are you saying? I've read theories on parallel realties, in fact," his eyes glazed as he recalled, "I remember I found this one book in the Magickal History section of the council library that described cases as far back as 3000BC of high order mages being able to – "

Elizabeth looked at the sleeping witch. "I am not quite sure yet," she said quietly.

"I know what the ritual told me. I didn't say I understood what it means or how it could have happened."

"If a person crosses into another reality," she paused, anticipating the coming interruption, "through whatever means, they leave behind an empty shell. When stretched too far from the Soul, a body becomes in-animate. Effectively unconscious. A strong anchor is required to ensure the person comes back to where they started from."

Giles looked at the sleeping Willow with a mixed sense of dawning understanding and growing fear. "So you're saying she may be somewhere between this world and wherever she went?"

Sounds came to Willow from far away. The beautiful night sky she'd been staring into started to fade to an indistinct grey. Keeping very still, listening, gradually she became aware from the cadence of the sound that she was hearing a conversation. She struggled to make out the words.

Elizabeth smiled sadly, "If you've read about this kind of magick, you'll also know that witches or mages returning from a different reality to their own would sometimes spend days, even weeks in near total isolation, focusing on properly re-connecting to their body."

The sounds started to come to Willow more clearly although she didn't immediately recognize the voices she heard.

"But how long will it take for her to fully return? How do we know she'll ever fully return? Is there nothing we can do to bring her fully back now?"

"Rupert there's nothing we can do to rush her. Attempting to hurry the process can cause incredible trauma to the body and the Soul."

'Rupert'? "Giles?!" Willow tried to open her eyes to see where she was, but her eyes wouldn't seem to work. The other voice had been unfamiliar. Feminine, soft but carrying a tone of authority. Where was she? What exactly had happened? She thought back but could only recall scraps that couldn't possibly be real. She felt exhausted and found it hard to think, hard to distinguish memory from dream.

Giles removed his glasses and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. He hated what he was about to say. "Elizabeth…" Giles paused before speaking his mind.

'Elizabeth.' Of course. The Elizabeth she was being brought to see. Which meant she was already at the country retreat Giles had talked about. Except she had no memory of how she'd got here. Willow kept very still and listened.

"If her power is so out of control that," he nodded towards the bed, "this can happen, accidentally even, goodness only knows what else could happen if we wait. You said yourself, she is a threat. She may not have used magick yet, but she is still carrying a vast reservoir of polluted power. She needs to be made safe. That's why I brought her to you."

Willow felt her stomach knot painfully. Giles could be ruthlessly single-minded when it came to the mission. After all it had been he who'd been instrumental in stopping her when after she'd killed Warren she'd turned her vengeance on the world.

"Rupert, we can help her control her power, but, before we commit her to a course of action that could kill her, we need to know she's properly back in this world. If we try the Earthing and she's not fully 'here' we may lose her completely."

"Magick flows through the Soul and Body. Draining that much power when the two are not fully connected could have consequences."

"It could kill her. Or worse, she could end up between worlds, lost in shadows. Her power will inevitably consume her and…everything else with it."

Giles searched Elizabeth's expression, looking for hint of panic induced hyperbole.

Elizabeth went on, "She will need to be fully physically recovered , the journey to the stones can be difficult."

Despite what she was hearing, Willow felt very calm. Wherever this was, she felt safe. It was warm here. Warm and comfortably numb…She drifted back, thinking about the pleasant smell of flowers on the warm summer air.

It was colder now and the smell of flowers had gone. Willow opened her eyes. The grey light of late evening did nothing to help the sense of unfamiliarity. Her gaze settled on the old leather chair set in front of the window. She felt relief as she recognized the seated figure.

"G-giles?" As she tried to speak Willow found her throat dry and a little constricted.

The older man sat up suddenly and nearly dropped the glasses he'd been holding while he'd allowed his mind to wonder. As he focused on Willow, his expression softened into a gentle smile. "You're awake," he said quietly.

Willow looked around herself slowly, careful not to jar her aching skull. Old dusty chest of drawers against one wall, wardrobe…heavy oak beams across the ceiling. She cleared her throat and tried to again to speak. "Where am I?"

Willow found the Watcher's tone re-assuring but felt a hint of annoyance of not getting the answer to her most basic question. She sat up and as she did so, realized her muscles were a little stiff. The heavy nightshirt she was wearing had a print of a serious looking teddy bear on the front. She found it rather endearing in a sad kind of way. Shaking her head, she reached up to rub sleep from her eyes.

"Willow we'll tell you everything we know, but some, er unusual things have happened in the last couple of days."

With exaggerated patience, she re-iterated her question. "How did I get here?" She paused. "Did you say two days?"

Giles sighed and gave her an imploring look. "You must be exhausted. Now's the time for rest."

The defiance in her mood evaporated as she realized how she did feel. Her head was throbbing. No pain killers in over a day. As she'd sat awake, she'd started to sense the chattering of other thoughts in her consciousness. More poignantly, she'd felt the concern in Giles' mind. She gave him a wan smile. "I am very tired. I…"

"I find it difficult to sleep sometimes. The voices – " She didn't finish the statement. She didn't need to. Willow watched Giles through sleepy half closed eyes. His rugged features betrayed sadness.

Giles was yet again reminded that Willow's final ascendance to the level of awareness she now carried had been a strong and most unintended side effect of his efforts to stop her from bringing the whole world to an end as the ultimate way to ease her sorrow over her loss of Tara.

The two sat in silence for long moments. After a moment, Giles quite tentatively asked, "Would you like me to read to you?"

Too tired to feel self conscious and happy to accept a distraction to help guide her to sleep, Willow said, "Thank you."

He picked up a book from the floor by the side of the bed and read the title. He raised his eyebrows in interest as he flicked through the pages. "We've got a late edition of Grimm's Fairy Tales if you'd like. All the gory bits have been edited out. It's entirely safe. I promise."

Willow smiled inwardly, remembering how her life with Tara had begun with a fairy-tale. She wriggled down under the covers and closed her eyes.

Willow's eyes snapped open and she sat up, immediately alert. The screeching she'd heard had sounded horrific. She cocked her head tensely, listening. Then the sound came again and she tensed further, ready for action. On third repetition, her shoulders relaxed as she realized what the sound was. She slid out of bed and padded over to the window, looking for the offending fowl.

Half an hour later, she'd found the bathroom, located her things stacked neatly in the chest of drawers and was creeping quietly downstairs.

She jumped at the sound of her name. Having figured it was not long after first light, she'd been expecting to be alone. "Er – " was all she could manage.

Willow smiled politely. Since leaving Sunnydale, she'd worried about meeting Elizabeth. So far all she'd had was a disembodied voice. Now here she was and she was not what Willow had been expecting. Long waves of chestnut hair framed gentle eyes that shone through wafer thin rimless rectangular glasses. Her smile was re-assuring. Definitely not what Willow had been expecting. She knew Elizabeth and Giles had known each other for many years and that Elizabeth had been some kind of mentor to the Watcher in his younger years. The appearance of the woman sitting before her belied her likely age.

Her tone was soft. Just concerned. The young witch scratched her head thoughtfully as she tried to frame an answer. "Mostly confused."

"And scared I guess. I didn't really know what to expect, what with coming to meet the uber witch who's going to save me and the world from…well me. And with everything that happened – "

"Uh huh. Like getting from London to here and having no memory of what happened in between."

"Giles told you that we don't fully understand everything that happened in the last two days."

"Willow, I was just getting ready for my morning walk. I like to feel the forest waking. Why don't you join me?"

Willow hesitated in the shadow of the edge of the forest and looked back across the pasture to the picturesque country farmhouse from which they'd emerged.

Elizabeth waited patiently, watching the witch get further acquainted with her surroundings.

"Sorry," said Willow as she turned to her companion, "I am coming!" she called as she trotted to catch up with Elizabeth.

At first the two women walked in silence. Elizabeth walking a little way ahead, Willow moving more slowly, taking everything in. She felt rather awed by the trees. Old, silent and, she felt, knowing. As she turned to look ahead, she saw Elizabeth had stopped and was crouching still, staring into a clearing.

Willow heard a rustling from ahead and followed Elizabeth's gaze to see a Monkjack dear emerge from the undergrowth. She suddenly felt very cold as she watched the innocent animal tilt its head from side to side, listening before walking stiffly across the clearing. It paused at the far edge of the leafy space before leaping off into more undergrowth. She could feel the sweat on her brow and she felt a pain in the pit of her stomach.

Elizabeth walked back to rejoin Willow. "Of the resurrection," she said matter of factly.

Willow looked at Elizabeth, surprised she could have known such a detail. She remembered telling Giles –

They walked quietly for a while, Willow concentrating on the crunch of the earth beneath her feet.

She sighed. There it was. Her questions answered with more questions. "Okay. My memory's a bit fuzzy though."

Her mind was starting to turn over more quickly as memories came into her mind and confused her. "Coming to England…The flight was dull…I couldn't sleep. Too many voices in my head."

Willow looked at the older woman sharply. "Did Giles tell you how I developed that problem?" Her voice quivered, the defiance superficial.

Elizabeth gave Willow an appraising look. "Yes he told me. I do believe I can help you. But, before I can help you with your, er, more general problems, I am going to need to know more about what happened to you in London," said Elizabeth gently, "What else do you remember?"

Frowning again, Willow spun forwards in her mind and her expression darkened as she remembered, "that poor girl and those two creatures. I did the spell and…"

"It was nothing. Just a darkening spell. I thought they'd run away and leave the girl."

Willow searched the older woman's face for any sign she was joking. Although why she would joke about such a thing was not at all obvious. "But how could you have – "

Willow cast her mind back. Suddenly she felt a burning pain deep in her head. Her mouth formed into a silent cry as she dropped to her knees and started to fall towards the soft forest floor. The pain in her head was blinding. Then, suddenly as it had come, the pain subsided and she just felt the cool damp earth against her cheek.

Strong hands helped her up to a sitting position. She stared into Elizabeth's green eyes, acutely embarrassed and very confused.

"It just felt like someone had jabbed a wire inside my head and turned the power on. I couldn't see anything or hear anything."

She stood up and offered Willow a hand. "Come on it's not far to the place I wanted to show you."

They walked quietly for a little longer before Elizabeth gently asked, "Willow, do you remember?"

She took a breath. "Ok, look. I saw the girl I tried to save. I saw her killed. I thought my darkening spell had scared them off and that she'd managed to get away. I thought I'd saved her. Only that's not what happened. They took her to this place where – "

Willow looked ashen faced and Elizabeth felt guilty for encouraging the young witch to speak of her experience. Yet she did all she could to show sincere understanding and allow Willow to tell her what happened. She knew Willow would feel some small relief for telling what had happened.

"It was like a great big cavernous underground theatre. They made a show of her. Killed her."

Elizabeth wondered at the conflict and sorrow that lay within this innocent, grieving young woman. Although she knew it was for the best and knew it was necessary, she regretted what she was going to have to do. "Nearly there now," she said briskly.

After what seemed like quite a long walk for being 'nearly there', Willow followed Elizabeth through a gap in the trees that lead into a broad, clearing, maybe a hundred feet wide. Setting foot in the clearing, Willow immediately felt a sense of calm descend. She looked around curiously.

Willow looked around more carefully. On first glance it had seemed just a natural clearing, but her eyes were drawn to the centre and she looked more closely at the earth. After a moment she realized she was seeing a circler pattern and casting her glance wider realized the ground was actually marked with gentle concentric circles.

Elizabeth smiled. "It's a very old wood henge and very few people know about it. The original posts are gone, but the effect remains. You can sense the power."

Elizabeth led Willow into the centre of the henge, where the earth was completely unmarked. She knelt down and indicated Willow to do the same. "Just feel it. Let it wash over you."

Willow closed her eyes. The feeling was unusual, subtle, tickling at her senses. As she sat with her eyes closed, she felt herself relaxing and the seconds stretched out.

"Willow, I am going to tell you what we know about what happened to you. This is going to be a lot to take in."

"After you invoked Recuro, you collapsed. Rupert said that he found you lying on the floor. The girl and two creatures you encountered were gone. Rupert brought you straight to me. You've been in a comatose state for two days."

Willow opened her eyes and felt the deep sense of confusion re-emerging. "But that's not what happened. I didn't' collapse, I followed those two things down into the tunnels and then ended up in this sort of underground cavern and…she was killed. I saw her killed." Her voice was almost pleading.

Willow hesitated. There was no longer any pain in remembering, but things were hazy. Events after the underground cavern were hazy. The only thing that was clear was the dream of being in Buffy's garden and then waking up in Elizabeth's house. She didn't know quite how she'd got to where she was. She sighed. "All I really know is that I remember it one way and Giles remembers it a different way. Either way I ended up unconscious and here."

Elizabeth nodded. "Willow, there are many ways a witch can leave her body. I conducted a ritual to 'find' you. What I found was…unexpected."

"The ritual makes it possible to trace the golden fiber that connects the body to the Soul."

Elizabeth smiled. "No. The ritual focuses on the connection rather than specifically the body or the Soul. To know the Soul is to know the divine."

"The thread was very strong, indicating that while you may have been unconscious, you were not near death."

Elizabeth took a breath and began explaining, "Well the tangle does definitely indicate one thing. That your body has traveled to or through one or more dimensions. That's why the thread to your Soul is so tangled. The fact that you're awake now suggests you're probably back in your own body."

Elizabeth smiled patiently and recounted what she'd recently explained to Giles about it taking a long time for a body to reconnect to a world after traveling through alternative realities.

"So ok, let me see if I've got this straight…I fell into a parallel dimension and not long after fell right back into this reality? And that's the bit you do understand?!"

"Well, knowing why it happened and indeed how it happened would be a good start. You say you didn't use magick – "

"Whatever happened, clearly something powerful is at work here. You've moved through realities and we still don't know if you're fully re-connected to this world."

"Yes. It's a simple ritual to see if your body is fully centralized in this reality."

Willow found her breathing becoming deeper and more relaxed, feeling that initial sense of relaxation she'd felt when she'd first stepped into the henge.

Suddenly, she felt warm air against her cheek and realized she could hear the fluttering of tiny wings. Her skin tingled as she felt it land on her. In her mind's eye, Willow saw a tiny bird sitting on her shoulder, only for some reason the bird she saw wasn't quite of the feathered variety. Instead, the little bird was partially translucent, shining in pearlescent pinks and yellows. She saw the little creature turn towards her, tilt its head on one side and open its beak. Eyes, still closed she smiled, delighted as the most enchanting song filled the air.

Then it was gone and Willow felt a pang of sadness. She opened her eyes and saw Elizabeth smiling at her.

Elizabeth stood up briskly. "We should start getting back. Rupert will be wondering where we've got to."

Picking her way carefully over the forest floor, she considered how to phrase the question that had been burning in her mind since the start of their conversation earlier. Eventually she decided there was no easy way. "Elizabeth?"

"You, er said before that after you'd found out what happened in the last couple of days that you'd be able to help me."

"But, how can you help? I have all this power in me. What can you do about that?"

After a minute, Elizabeth said, "Now I know that you're properly grounded in this world, we can go to the next stage."

"There exists a sacred place. A realm that few know exists and has not seen humanity or any kind of life for a long time. You might think of it as a kind of mezzanine that was simply forgotten. In that place is a circle and in that circle you will find some peace."

"You'll see soon. You'll want to rest before the ordeal. We'll be leaving this evening."

Willow moved carefully through the long grass. The light was fading and the only sound was the distant roar of the wind through the trees. No one lived here anymore. So far from humanity, she did not have to work so hard to shut out the noise of foreign minds.

She reached up a hand and tucked back an errant lock of red hair. She'd let her hair grow longer this last year but she still hadn't quite got used to the way it got in her eyes. She'd been walking slowly up hill for nearly an hour now and still it seemed a long way to the top. Elizabeth's intimations about the nature of the process she was to undergo were disturbing to say the least. Yet here she was, walking steadily toward her destination. Knowing what was in the valley beyond, she felt in no rush. She maintained her steady pace and soon she found herself atop the hill, gazing into the valley below. The standing stones cast long deep shadows over the valley floor.

She gave a brief look over her shoulder before beginning her descent. Despite feeling her stomach knot progressively tighter, she did not hesitate. It wasn't resolution that propelled her forwards, just the simple truth of taking the next step down a path she was on.

Willow shivered. She looked back and then again in front at the looming stones. Her legs ached. Somehow the path down into the valley was longer than she'd thought.

The stones looked different up close. From the top of the hill they'd appeared a curious monument to some long forgotten tradition. But now, they towered above her and cast their shadows in the light of the rising moon.

Willow fought the urge to turn and run as fast as she could. If nothing else it would be futile. She knew she would not be able to find her own way home. They would come. They'd promised and she'd trusted. But only after.

Elizabeth had seemed worryingly silent when Willow had asked what would happen if it didn't work. Willow knew she would go through with it though. If it failed, then, it failed. If it worked? She might feel…different. She stepped into the circle and felt everything change.

Willow felt her hands tingle. Curiously, she lifted her palm and turned it around in front of her. Her eyes widened as she saw the veins begin to blacken and swell. With sickening dread, she stared at her hand. She could feel the blackness rising, seeping through her body. Her veins ran black and her skin paled and then began to turn an ugly grey.

Then she began to smile. Her awareness was sharpening again. In a wave, she felt the power rush out from the place she held it. It spread, out from its sanctuary and through her body, engulfing all her senses. She gasped and fell to her knees in shock.

Slowly, Willow stood up and stood, very still. Breathing slowly, focusing, she looked at her feet and closed her eyes. The power struggled and writhed inside her. She concentrated on it, feeling its shape, understanding its nature. When she let it, the power would be tangible, beautiful, no longer needing to hide.

When Willow's eyes flickered open, they were beyond black. She spread her arms wide and swirled her outstretched fingers in the breeze. Around her finger tips, tiny whorls of pink light sprung up, curling and racing together. The energy spun around her fingers and then, as if finding purchase began to run up her fingers and over her hands. At first the light danced on the surface of her dead grey skin, but as the energy ran further up her hands and began to climb up her arms, it penetrated her skin. More points of light began to appear and soon Willow could not see her arm, only a twisting mass of glowing fibers.

Willow swayed slightly, dizzy with the sensations running though her. At first she'd known what she was feeling. That familiar heady sense of letting the magick take over. But something was different. Was it this place?

She looked down at herself and saw the light was spreading deep inside her now and glowing painfully brightly. Then something changed. Willow knew now that she wasn't in control of the power. She'd started to let it out, but now something was pulling and it didn't feel good. Her mind came shuddering back to reality. Her body felt like it was caving inwards. She shuddered and felt sick as the energy was torn out. Her survival sense wondered for an instant if it wasn't only magickal energy being shed.

Sounds screeched in her head and she knew it was coming. Wind came from nowhere and whipped at her clothes and hair. She felt a constriction in her throat. Then her mouth opened involuntarily and she jerked forward, gagging. She couldn't breathe properly. Her body jerked again as if trying to expel the thing in her throat. All that came out her mouth was hot, dry air. But as she looked, she realized it wasn't just air. Black particles swept around her in the rising wind. Her eyes widened in panic and she lurched forward again as a thickening plume of dark matter flowed out of her mouth.

Willow's vision was clouding and her eyes hurt. Instinctively, she reached up her hands to her eyes. All she felt was heat. Her stomach tightened. Dark, acrid smog rose from her eyes. She could see nothing at all. And yet somehow, she still saw. Or her mind constructed a mental image from other more primal senses. She saw her own body, far below. Thick black smoke poured out of her eyes and mouth, borne high into the air on the raging wind.

The smoke grew thicker and the winds rose yet further, driving the blackness upwards in an unnatural tornado. The funnel rose hundreds of feet into the air, twisting, growing into a dense blackness. Then the swirling darkness began to slow and from the rim of the very top of the twister, darkness flowed to Earth. In a perfect circle, it flowed downwards and as it approached the Earth the standing stones seemed to reach upwards in anticipation. Each massive stone pulled at the black air and groaned and creaked as the energy grounded within them. As the stones absorbed the power, slowly the rim of the twister descended to Earth. And when there was no more blackness, the light of the moon bathed the stones and there was quiet.

Willow felt the ground, cold and damp beneath her. She lay still, consciousness coming back to her slowly. After a while, she decided to try opening her eyes. Light flared painfully through her cracked lids. She screwed her eyes tight shut again. Faint voices. Then hands, reaching out to help her up. She tried to move away, but her body seemed to be disconnected from her brain.

After a few moments, she tried again to open her eyes. The bright morning light still hurt her eyes and she couldn't see very well, but as her eyes adjusted, flashes of color began to appear through the white. Faces. Concerned faces.

She let the hands raise her to a sitting position. She tried to remember what had happened, how she'd got here. Her memory was blurry. But then she did remember something. Pain. In her eyes, in her mouth and in her head. Then she remembered Elizabeth talking to her, telling her not to worry. That she'd know soon enough if it had worked.

She looked up and saw Elizabeth staring down at her, face etched with worry. Giles stood next to her, hands on hips, staring into the distance.

Carefully, Elizabeth helped her to her feet. She leaned on the older woman unsteadily. Looking around, she saw the standing stones, impassive as ever. They looked strange. Damaged somehow. The stone was blackened and scarred. Her gaze lingered on the tallest of the stones.

Chinese-red stained the darkening sky creating a mesmeric pattern in the antique glass kitchen window. Willow sat back in her chair and stared through the paling hues as she spoke. "So when will you be back?" she asked.

"I'll be back when I am needed. Only Elizabeth can help with the initial phases of your re-adjustment."

Willow couldn't help the feeling of sullenness. Her ordeal at the stones had left her disoriented and weak. Starting to feel a little better she'd come down from her room to find Giles talking on a cell-phone about arrangements for arriving at some unspecified location. He tried to gently explain it to her, but that didn't make her feel much better. She felt very much more isolated at the thought of being alone with Elizabeth.

Giles read the expression on her face. He leaned forward in his chair and reached across the kitchen table to clasp Willow's small hands. "As soon as Elizabeth tells me I can help, I'll be here and I'll stay here for as long as necessary."

He grinned. "With me out the picture, Anya's probably already planning how to rebuild the Magic Box into a Magic Superstore, more fit for 21^st century corporate America…" He trailed off looking suddenly worried.

Willow smiled. It seemed the recently human Anya had found that a thousand years of being a Vengeance Demon, exacting creative punishment on men for ill treatment of woman had left her uniquely well equipped for the cut throat world of retail.

Giles looked up at Willow and was pleased to see her smiling. "When you're ready, and only when you're ready, we'll return to Sunnydale together."

"Well yes, to better understand what happened to you. Although Elizabeth is an expert in this general area even she's not seen anything quite like er, what we're dealing with here."

Willow swallowed nervously. She had a shrewd idea what the question would be. In some ways, she was surprised it hadn't arisen sooner. "What is it?" she asked.

"To me it was like you never left the tunnel. Only you seem to have left your body and gone…somewhere" Giles paused before asking what he needed to know, "has anything strange, anything like this ever happened before? Recently?"

"I never told her. I used to tell her everything, except – " Looking back it was so obvious. Things had been so wrong. No, not things, her. She'd been wrong. Tara had never done anything wrong. She took a deep breath. "After we resurr – after we brought Buffy back well, doing that spell, it changed me. It left after-effects."

He'd been right of course, when he'd chastened her over the risk she'd taken in using the type of magick she'd chosen for Buffy's resurrection. He'd been joyous to have Buffy back, but the ferocity of his warnings over what could have happened to her by using such magick…It had hurt. Even when she'd started to feel tell tale signs that things weren't right, she'd defiantly ignored her intuition.

She risked a look at Giles face and found not anger as she'd half expected, only sorrow.

Willow could feel tears brimming and found her voice would no longer come. She felt her heart quicken as painful memories swam into focus and stared down at her hands trying to keep herself calm.

Willow pulled her hand back and still averting her gaze, clumsily wiped her eyes with her hand. She cleared her throat in an effort to try to compose herself. "It got worse after I started as I started doing more magick."

Willow smiled a wanly. "I thought I could handle it." She sniffed and wiped again at her eyes.

She looked up at the Watcher with anger in her voice said, "I know, but look, I just couldn't have handled any more self-righteousness castigation. I thought after a while you might all thank me. For bringing Buffy back to you all. I thought if only I could put up with the dreams for a while, it would be alright."

"Giles, don't. You couldn't have known. And I really thought it would go away after a while."

Willow paused again. It was so personal and so painful at the same time. She took a deep breadth. "When Tara knew I was more interested in magick than her, she left – "

Despite himself, Giles found he couldn't help but jump to Tara's defense. "Willow, it was tearing the poor girl apart to see you like that."

The redheaded witch nodded miserably and looked away, anywhere other than into the Watcher's gaze. The stupidity of the chain of events that had lead to her magick addiction and to Tara's death seemed unbelievable to her.

"Not long after she left, Tara came back one time. She held my hand…" In her mind's eye Willow saw the blond witch's aura shining bright against a background of grey. She saw herself looking into Tara's eyes searching for forgiveness or understanding. "When I looked into her eyes, I saw myself. I saw myself differently."

Willow jumped at the sound and turned. She saw Elizabeth standing impassively in the kitchen doorway and looked down at her hands, embarrassed.

"Willow it's ok. Giles needs to know all this so he can properly direct his research, but I need to hear it too if I am going to help you." Elizabeth pulled out the chair next to Willow and seated herself.

"I saw myself as a dark magus. It faded and I saw myself in white. I…saw myself in her arms."

"At first I thought it was just stress and tiredness. I wonder how we manage any semblance of a normal life with the stuff that goes on in Sunnydale.

Willow shook her head in disbelief. "It got a lot worse after I started going to Rack – " she spat the warlock's name bitterly.

"After using magick, I started to see myself in any reflective surface. It was always something different. Like a different version of me every time. Doing something different. Being someone else."

Giles let out a long sigh before asking, "Willow did it get worse than that? Hallucinations?"

She nodded. "It got to the point where I started doing reality checks to see if I was asleep." She felt an ache in her chest as she remembered Tara coming back to her, just hours before it had all ended. Tara had stood in the doorway to Willow's bedroom, ready to make-up and Willow had wondered if it was real.

After a moment, Elizabeth said slowly, "Tell me again about what you saw in your lover's eyes?"

As Willow talked, Giles watched his young charge. He could barely begin to express the sadness he felt for Willow. He cared for her and admired her more than she probably knew and certainly more than he could ever really put into words. He'd hurt for her intensely when Tara had been killed.

He'd played his part in bringing her back from the edge, but ultimately he'd felt rather useless. He hadn't been able to help her. He suspected Willow carried more guilt inside her than he could really understand. Beyond the physical threat of what she'd tried to do and beyond the little hurts she'd caused them when they tried to stop her, beyond what she'd done to Warren, it was for Tara she carried her biggest guilt. He knew she blamed herself for the whole tragic chain of events.

He listened to Willow try to explain her bizarre experience and was forced to admit he didn't understand. It was unlike anything he knew of or had come across. Yet Elizabeth listening quietly, nodding occasionally.

Having explained herself as best she could, Willow sat back, watching Elizabeth.

Willow had learned a lot about magick and her understanding of the sciences had directed the way she thought about how to apply it. She'd been fascinated by the crossing points of the art of magick and the physics of the world. Her perspective was she felt rather rarefied. When she'd gone under – after Tara – she'd absorbed spells that had given her new perspectives on the world. Complex thoughts spun in her mind. They would take time to reason out. "Maybe…I just saw things how they could have been."

Willow watched the door close behind the departing Watcher. She walked back to the kitchen table and sat down. After a while she said, "So what happens now then? Now you help me do what? Learn to be a good girl again?"

Willow managed a non committal expression. When it came, Elizabeth's laugh surprised her.

"Oh no, I am afraid you're wrong about that. The only person who can help you, is you." Elizabeth's tone was even and betrayed no sense of accusation, but her expression was penetrating.

"I will help you make sure all that power can't build up again. And, I can help you to try to learn something about respect for life."

The bald truth of the words stung. When Tara had…gone…she'd been freed of all uncertainty. There was no morality in what she'd felt, there was only the pursuit of vengeance. Which needed power and power she had taken in any and every form she'd needed. The cost inflicted on others? Irrelevant. The cost to herself? It didn't matter if it killed her.

Except when vengeance happened it only deepened her need. To sate her need, she'd taken a power which had not been what she'd expected. It had reacted with the complex magick already flowing through her and in an instant, she'd seen everything. Felt every living thing. There was nothing but pain in the world and she could stop it all. She'd tried.

Yet the world remained, the power remained and she remained, a spent, hollow and useless personality. The voices in her head almost drowned out the memory of the last sound of Tara's voice. She had to concentrate to remember and it made her so tired.

Willow had figured out that if she kept her mind very still, if she didn't think any new thoughts other than what had happened, what she'd done could be perfectly suspended in her mind's eye. If she concentrated then she could remain externalized.

When she spoke this time, Elizabeth's tone was softer. "If you are willing then we have a chance."

She couldn't look up, afraid that Elizabeth would see everything she was in her eyes and would hate her. Would not want to help, because she was beyond it and didn't deserve it.

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Through a Glass, Darkly

by Raspberryhat

Copyright © 2006

raspberryhat@hotmail.co.uk