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Laid To Rest Parts 1 - 15

TITLE: Laid To Rest
RATING: NC-17
COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: Joss owns them. I love ‘em.
FEEDBACK: Yep, tommo27@hotmail.com
SPOILERS: References to Season 5
ARCHIVE: No problem, just let me know eh?
SUMMARY: Set in my own Buffyverse, this continues on from the situation set up in ‘End of the Road’. Faith is out of prison and living in LA for now. However, the events of ‘The Gift’ have happened.



Part 1

It began as it always did. A flash of an image in the darkness; a terrible sound like tearing cloth, ripping apart with vicious ferocity. The light strobed itself around her head, flickering into her senses and then blacking out again, all within milliseconds of each other. Within this kaleidoscope, a shadowed figure emerged from a distance, each step bringing it closer to her. She was unable to move, as always, struck dumb with fear and…yes…loathing. The emotion filling her body like a flame, burning brightly in her head, pulsing at her temples. She wanted to lift her hands, see the lightning burst forth and repel the figure. But, as always, nothing happened. She merely waited.

Closer. The figure drew closer. Until, at last, Willow could see the outline surrounded by a bright whiteness, almost blinding her. The strands of hair were captured by the light, becoming extensions of the fair head around which it fanned like a beautiful halo.

Only this was no angel.

Closer still. Moving towards her. She knew it, she saw it, and she felt it. And it was so, so real.

Finding her voice, she opened her eyes. “Tara!” she gasped.

“Honey?” the sleepy voice next to her floated upwards.

Willow was sitting up in bed, a sheen of sweat covering her forehead. Reaching out in the darkness she felt the familiar body beside her; a pair of hands clasping her own and holding on tight. As her eyes grew accustomed to the night, she looked across to see Tara, blinking in half-sleep, gazing at her in the bed that they shared night after night.

“Oh Tara,” Willow’s voice cracked as the sobs pressed against her throat, constricting her voice from uttering anything but nonsense. She let Tara draw her into her arms and put her head onto the other girl’s shoulder, breathing in the comforting scent of Tara’s perfume, emanating from the hollow at the base of her neck. Usually that would have been enough; it always had been in the past. But, Willow reminded herself, the past had been different. Now there was only the painful present, and an uncertain future which scared the redhead more than she cared to admit to anyone, including and perhaps, especially, Tara.

“Ssssh honey,” Tara’s hand reached up and smoothed down Willow’s back before reaching up to entwine itself in the damp strands of red lying against the back of Willow’s neck. She could feel the redhead sucking in mouthfuls of air, breathing hard, her pulse point pounding out a frightened rhythm on the side of her hand. Tara shifted forwards slightly, so that she could feel the closeness of Willow.

For weeks now, that was all they had to cling onto, a physical closeness. Nothing more. It was as though their senses had been numbed, anaesthetised by such pain and sorrow so that night after night, they had clutched each other as though drowning, the last vestiges of their stoic appearance gone, leaving only two scared girls who needed each other more than anything they had ever known. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Tara woke to see Willow tossing and turning in the grips of some terrible nightmare. When she woke, it was Tara who always held her close and tried to soothe away the fear. Only, the blonde realised, it wasn’t going away.

“Did you have the dream again?” Tara whispered, feeling Willow nod against her neck and sniff back a couple of stray tears. She turned her head, planting a kiss against the silky hair that tickled her cheek, not really knowing what to say. Words, it seemed, were useless between them. Besides, there had been enough talk. All they had done in the weeks following Buffy’s death was talk. Preparation, consultation, consolation…and it all seemed useless. It was all just talk. Willow tried to be strong, for Giles, for Dawn, for Xander, even for Anya. But the redhead herself cried almost every night, sometimes more. And it was all Tara could do to pick up the pieces as best she could.

Leaning back, Willow brushed the back of her hand underneath her nose and sniffed loudly again. A frown burrowed its way into her forehead and she looked down at the blankets, ruffled across her lap where she had kicked them into disarray.

“Tara, I don’t know what it means. I just don’t know.” Her voice was small and lonely. It struck a pang of fear into the blonde’s heart and she placed her palm against Willow’s cheek, feeling the wetness there that almost made her cry in sympathy.

“I know honey, we’ll…we’ll figure it out somehow though. I promise.” Her voice sounded a lot more confident than she felt, though.

A pair of green eyes glittered as moonlight from outside caught them in a glancing ray through the half-closed curtains. The silence between them echoed a coldness that had brought itself into their relationship. They had always been able to talk about anything; everything. But now, after Buffy’s death, it seemed like each girl had somehow retreated into herself even more, leaving a chasm that stretched wide and long. And Willow found herself falling into the blackness more often than not these days. Leadership had never been her strong point, she often thought to herself, but it had been thrust upon her now Buffy was gone. The memory of that brought fresh tears to her eyes and she dropped her gaze, ashamed to look at the woman who loved her more than anything in this world and the next.

“What if we can’t? I mean, what if I’m just supposed to have these dreams and live with them. I was meant to help her, I was meant to be there for her…” she trailed off miserably, knowing that this was a conversation they had had many times, in different ways. But the guilt was always the same.

“Sweetheart, there was nothing any of us could have done. It was Buffy’s choice. Her choice, Willow.” Tara’s voice was quietly firm, and her hand cupped Willow’s chin gently, raising it so that their eyes met. “She knows how much you loved her…how much you still love her. You have to believe that.”

Lifting her hand, Willow trailed a finger down Tara’s cheek, revelling in the softness and peace she felt from a single touch. Always; that was a word they used to one another in their quiet moments, but now it seemed that always might be until tomorrow, until next week, maybe not even that. She had sworn to be Buffy’s friend always. And yes, Slayers died young, everyone knew that. But Willow hadn’t expected Buffy’s demise to be so untimely, so painful, and so blatantly wrong.

“I’m trying,” she answered, seeing Tara’s eyes darken in the night to almost black. “I promise.”

“Okay, so let’s try to go back to sleep then, yes?” Tara lay back and pulled Willow down beside her. Putting her arm around the smaller girl, she wrapped her arms around the redhead, covering them both with the blanket. A sigh went through Willow as she laid her arm across Tara’s stomach and closed her eyes for a minute. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow,” Tara added softly, feeling Willow’s breathing finally calm down somewhat, “All that travelling, and then we’ve got a holiday together. Just what the doctor ordered.”

“Which doctor?” Willow mumbled sleepily, her eyes closing despite her fears; the nightmare now fading to a distant memory in her mind.

“This witch, doctor,” Tara smiled, planting a kiss on the top of Willow’s head before she too, closed her eyes and let sleep overtake her senses once more.



Some miles away, the night offered quite a different atmosphere to another young woman. She stood overlooking the gardens at the hotel, looking but not seeing. Her eyes were fixed on a point too far away to be discernable to anyone but her. She had been standing there since sundown, but the creeping cold had barely registered on her body. Instead, she stood, arms folded against her chest, her jaw set in a firm line, her eyes luminous in the night.

The vampire crept up behind her so quietly that it was almost as if he too, were a ghost come to haunt her. As he neared the young woman, he felt her pain coming off her in waves, like the ceaseless movement of the ocean, ever restless, ever present and returning always, to fill her whole being with it. He wanted to reach out to her, but he knew the yearning she felt for something she could never have. He had felt it the moment the news had reached him of Buffy’s death. Replaying those moments in his mind right now, he felt once more the painful tug of his soul, reminding him of a love he would never quite reconcile with himself. She was gone, and he would spend the rest of his immortal life grieving for her. He had accepted that weeks ago. But, he sighed; it didn’t make it any easier.

His gaze drifted back towards the young woman in front of him. She had loved and lost, he thought suddenly. She had loved so deeply for once in her life; had let go and given herself up to it. He knew all of this. But knowing didn’t ease the anguish that had silenced her for days at a time. Knowing hadn’t stopped her from disappearing for almost a week, only to return with blood on her clothes and a wild look in her eyes. Where she had gone, none of them knew, not even Cordelia, who spent most of her time with Faith these days. She had just gone. But she had come back. And, Angel reminded himself, that was the most important thing.

“Can’t sleep?” he said softly, his voice sounding loud in the stillness of the night.

Faith’s head jerked at the sound of his voice, but she didn’t turn around, instead shrugging a response with her shoulders. She shifted slightly as he moved closer, wanting to reach out to her, but knowing that she’d never let him.

“It gets so quiet here at night, sometimes I think this place is an oasis in the city,” he observed, his eyes reaching down the gardens towards the boundary wall beyond.

“An oasis, huh?” Finally she spoke, her voice low and gravelled by the tears rolling down her cheeks. She hated letting anyone see her cry. An admission of pain, of hurt, was like anathema to her. The only person who had ever made her feel like she could cry in front of them was gone. And now, she sighed raggedly, she wasn’t sure if she could let anyone see her like that again.

“Somewhere to think, somewhere to be alone.”

Sniffing, she rubbed fiercely at her eyes with the back of her hand and finally turned round, thankful that the darkness hid the redness of her face. She sat down on the low wall, reaching inside her jacket pocket for her cigarettes and lighter. Squinting as the flame blinded her momentarily, she sucked hard on the cigarette, watching smoke plume up into the night sky and then disappear to nothing.

“Well I am alone, aren’t I?” Her voice was hardened somehow, pushing Angel back with its tone. He frowned slightly and sat down beside her.

“Not while you’re here. You have Cordelia, she’s worried about you.”

Faith let out a snort of laughter and lifted the cigarette to her mouth once more, shaking her head. She cast a glance towards the concerned face of the vampire sitting next to her and shook her head, “Naah, I didn’t mean her. She’s always worried about somethin’, I guess I lucked out this week.” A tiny smile of affection curved her lips for a second before she looked down at the floor again. “I meant me, I’m alone. The only one. I’m the only one left, Angel.”

“The Chosen One.” He knew what she was talking about.

“Yeah,” Faith nodded, flicking ash onto the concrete below her feet. “She was the only one who knew what it was like…to be me. To be a Slayer. And now I’m alone.”

“Faith, it will get better – “ Angel began, but was cut off by a dismissive wave of Faith’s hand.

“So you say. So everyone says. Just give it time. That’s right, huh?” Faith’s voice grew in intensity as she felt the tears pricking the back of her eyes again. “You know what? I don’t wanna wait. I want it to be better now. Cuz I sure as hell don’t wanna carry on feeling like shit for not doing something, for not being there. I mean fuck, why her? Why not me? Nobody would miss me; I coulda gone there and done what she did and it wouldn’t have mattered. And I would, Angel, I really would…” her voice faltered as she tried to shake off the tears and failed.

“I know how much you cared about her Faith,” Angel said quietly. “Because I felt it too. And so did she. That’s what’s important. So did she.”

“She was everything. I would have done anything for her.” Faith whispered. “And I never told her.”

Now Angel moved, shifting closer to her and putting his arm around her shoulders, feeling the deceptive slightness of her body as she almost collapsed against him. He sat patiently whilst she sobbed against his shoulder and let the night take her pain, engulfing it in a blanket that deadened everything. Raising his eyes, he gazed at the moon, clear and bright in the sky, looking down upon the two of them, huddled together on the wall. And he hoped that Buffy could see.



Part 2

“Are you sure Miss Kitty won’t miss us too much? I mean, last summer we went off to England and now we’re going away again. I worry about her.” Willow’s face acquired the cutest frown Tara thought she had ever seen, and she couldn’t help smiling at her girlfriend as they settled back into their seats on the plane. She reached out and grasped Willow’s hand, turning the frown into a soft smile, which pleased her even more.

“She’ll be fine. Anya promised to feed her regularly and look after her as if she were her own.” Tara answered.

That only made Willow frown again. “I’m not sure that makes me feel better, I mean, Anya? We’d have been better off putting her in a cattery for the holidays.”

“Hey,” Tara squeezed Willow’s fingers, “If Miss Kitty can survive having the windows ripped out of her room, then I’m sure she can survive a few weeks with Anya. Besides, have you noticed that ever since she and Xander got engaged, she’s gone all maternal about stuff? I think someone’s jonesing for a baby.”

“Oh god,” Willow shuddered dramatically, and not all of it was a pretence. “Anya having a baby, I mean, is that a good idea? She’s hardly like, mom material is she? Besides, bringing a child into the world is just…” she stopped herself, not wanting to even consider new life anymore. Leaning her head back against the seat, she carefully avoided Tara’s enquiring gaze and closed her eyes.

“Just what?” Tara’s voice reached her, the questioning tone unmistakeable. Tara knew exactly what she meant; they had talked about this before. Willow had often felt as though going on was pointless. Living, dying, being born, it was all just a huge mistake sometimes. It was a joke that the gods were playing for their own amusement. The Powers That Be had a lot to answer for, in Willow’s mind, and she wasn’t going to let them forget it if she ever got the chance.

Watching Willow turn away from her sent a chill down Tara’s spine. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, and she was sure it wouldn’t be the last. They always talked about everything, but lately, barriers were closing her off from understanding her lover. It was as though Willow went so far then hit a brick wall and retreated back inside herself. Tara knew what that felt like; unhappy memories of her own mother’s death often returned to haunt her. And despite the love she still felt for her mother, a tiny part of her blamed her for leaving her alone. It was as though the rug had been pulled out from underneath her, leaving her floundering for explanations and sense. But nothing made sense when it came to death, she thought sadly, it was senseless and pointless and cruel to the ones left behind.

“Willow? Honey?” she leant forward again, hoping to elicit some response from the redhead.

“Tara…” Willow opened her eyes and looked sadly across at her girlfriend. How to find the words? She wasn’t sure she wanted to. She’d always been able to rationalise everything; always tried to find an answer to the problem. That was what she did, right? She found answers and solutions. That’s why she was so clever. That was her job. At least, it had been with Buffy. But now, it seemed as though there were no answers, nowhere to place the blame or the questioning. And it was so tiring, looking all the time and finding nothing. Sometimes, the redhead mused, looking into Tara’s eyes, sometimes she just wanted out. To run away and leave everything behind.

“Willow, you know, life has to go on,” Tara urged softly.

“Why?” Willow’s mouth drew itself into a flat line, and Tara sat back in her chair, letting go of the other girl’s hand. “Why, Tara? What’s the point? Everyone dies sometime. So you just sit around waiting for it to happen, doing what you can, fighting the good fight,” her voice took on a bitter tone. Walls built themselves quickly around her.

“You’re not the only one who lost her,” Tara whispered, thinking of her mother. Her eyes dropped to her lap where her fingers twisted nervously against themselves, her hair falling forward to cover her face.

“I know but…” Willow began, before she realised that she couldn’t express this to anyone. Not even to herself. It just didn’t make sense. Glancing across at Tara, she felt anger bubble up in her stomach and didn’t know why. It scared her sometimes, just how much rage she felt and what it could do. If Tara only knew…the darkness beckoned her so much these days that it was sometimes all she could do to stay away from it, never mind be strong for herself and everyone around her.

“No, it’s okay. Really,” Tara muttered, her voice acquiring some of the timbre she had grown used to in defeat. Her father, her brother, her whole family had browbeaten her back into herself. And she never resisted because it was just too painful for her. “I understand h-how you feel and if you w-want to talk about it then you will.” She bit her lip and cursed herself inwardly for allowing her stammer to surface. Blushing, she looked away, down the plane to where the stewardesses were preparing food.

“It’s not you, Tara. Please…it’s not you.” Willow took the blonde girl’s hand in her own, panic rising in the back of her throat. Upsetting Tara was the last thing she ever wanted to do, but confusion and anger never made comfortable bedfellows and all the time she felt like she was forcing herself to put on a good show for the benefit of others. “I do want to talk about it but, I just can’t right now. I don’t know when I will. But I promise you’ll be the first person I come to,” she brushed her thumb over the back of Tara’s hand, feeling the other girl close her fingers around her own.

“I’m scared, Willow. I’m scared for us.” Tara said simply.

“I know honey, me too. But that’s why we took this holiday, right? To get away from all things hellmouthy for a while and just be us.” Willow let out a sigh, feeling like the hellmouth would probably follow them wherever they went. She wondered if this was the burden Buffy felt; if this was the choice she had made. “I just want to enjoy this time with you,” she added, leaning towards Tara.

The blonde lifted her head and offered a tiny smile to the redhead, although it never quite reached her eyes. The twin pools of blue fixed themselves sadly on Willow as she settled herself back into her seat, closing her eyes again, feigning sleep. As she watched her, Tara felt a deep sense of sorrow settle onto her chest and place its cold hands around her heart, grasping firmly. She knew only too well how hope could live and die in a single heartbeat, offering no recompense to those who were left behind.

Closing her eyes, she recalled seeing Buffy’s body. She and Willow had held onto one another at that moment, and it seemed like they had never let go. No words, no voices, just clutching onto what seemed like reality, when all else around them crashed to the ground and shattered into pieces. She wasn’t sure that any of them had been able to make sense of what happened yet, or if they ever would. She still grieved for her mother, even after three years. The pain might lessen but the memory never did, which was why she and Willow had planned this holiday to Ireland, in the hopes that they could create new memories for themselves.

She glanced across at Willow again, taking in the fragile body and pale features of the woman she loved. Tara wondered if it was true that, if people were inextricably bound up in one another, when one of them died, they took some essence of everyone who touched their life with them. If that was the case, then Willow was missing the one thing that was hers alone; her bond to the Slayer. Sighing, Tara wished she could magick up something to help fill that space. Willow seemed very lost and alone these days, as though she was looking for something although she knew she would never find it. In the weeks following her mother’s death, Tara had searched endlessly for some kind of meaning to it all and had found none. She guessed that Willow was still looking.

Reaching over, she touched the other girl’s hand gently, letting out a breath of contentment as Willow’s fingers curled around her own and held on tight. For now, that was all they could do.



Cordelia looked up from the paper she was pretending to read and watched as Faith pushed food around her plate with a fork. She had made a nice breakfast for the third week running, wanting to make sure that Faith at least got some nutrition inside her before a hard day’s slaying…or whatever it was she did when she left the hotel. The week Faith had disappeared; Cordy had felt something close to real dread for the first time in her life. Caring about someone really took it out of you, she thought wryly, fixing Faith with a gimlet gaze and pursing her lips.

“Stop starin’ at me,” Faith said, feeling rather than seeing Cordy’s eyes on her.

“Well you’ve eaten next to nothing, and I scrambled those eggs on purpose.”

Faith turned and, despite herself, grinned over at the perfect features of the woman beside her at the table, “As opposed to what, doing it by mistake?”

Rolling her eyes, Cordy folded the paper and placed it onto the table beside her own empty plate. “You haven’t seen my cooking,” she murmured, a faint blush rising in her cheeks as it always did when Faith looked at her like that. She had grown quite used to the other girl being around, in fact, she had come to rely upon it in some ways. It was different, being with Faith. But nice different, she reminded herself. Never quite able to come to terms with her attraction, there had never been anything physical between the two of them, but they shared something, that was for sure. And it was growing steadily, day-by-day into a feeling that Cordy was beginning to enjoy. Really enjoy.

“Sorry about the food, but I’m really not hungry,” Faith leant back in her chair and pushed the plate away from her. She shot what she hoped was an apologetic look at Cordelia and folded her arms across her chest, stretching out her legs underneath the table, where they collided with Cordelia’s.

Cordy shifted her legs away from the contact. It wasn’t like she didn’t want Faith to touch her; it was just…it was just… She shook her head, getting angry with herself. If only she could have the courage of her convictions like Faith appeared to these days. She knew what she wanted, she knew what she needed. Why was it so hard for her to accept that too?

“Faith…” she began, leaning her elbows onto the table.

“Cordy…” Faith’s eyes lazily flicked across to her and looked her up and down. Cordelia felt herself blush again and coughed to hide it, knowing that Faith was well aware of the effect she was having on her these days.

“You…ah…you’ll get hungry later if you don’t eat now,” she finished lamely, cursing herself for not being more forthright.

“Me? Hey, I can survive the whole day on hardly anything,” Faith said proudly. “Comes from a bad background.”

“Things change.”

Faith let out a snort of laughter, “Sure, things change. Like how? I was alone then and I’m alone now.” Her mirth fell from her face and she frowned, looking down at her arms. “Gets kinda repetitive after a while.”

“You have me…I mean, us. You have us. Friends.” Cordelia almost stuttered the words out, a desperate feeling to say something other than what was actually coming out of her mouth.

“Huh?” Faith jerked out of her reverie and looked over at Cordy, sensing the anxiety in the other girl’s voice. She nodded, “Yeah, I know. It’s not that I’m not grateful, I mean, you guys have been the best. Sure you have. But I guess I’m kinda reflective. Must be goin’ soft or somethin’.” She shook her head dismissively, “Boy, B sure woulda had a field day with me right now.”

“She would have been proud of you, Faith.” Cordelia said softly, her heart aching at the expression that was flitting across Faith’s face. So much pain, so much sorrow, and nowhere to put any of it.

“I want to make her…I always did. You know? Wanted her to know how much I…” Faith’s faltering speech was brought to an abrupt end as she pushed the chair back from the table, the legs scraping loudly across the floor, and stood up, almost ashamed of her show of emotion. “So that’s why I’m goin’ back.”

Cordelia frowned and leant back in her chair, her eyes narrowing. “Going back where, exactly?”

“To Sunnydale.”

Before Cordy could regain some kind of hold of her sense to give what was surely going to be a long diatribe on why that wasn’t such a great idea in the great scheme of things, another figure entered the kitchen and walked over the table. Angel picked up the paper and shook it open, his eyes flicking between Faith and Cordy, confusion slowly gathering on his face.

“Who’s going to Sunnydale?” he finally asked, catching the tail end of their conversation.

Faith straightened up and looked them both in the eye, making sure that there was no room for argument on this. She didn’t want any more strife, she just wanted to make things right. This was her shot, it was her time, it was her destiny.

“I am.”



Part 3

Angel looked from Faith, to Cordelia, then back to Faith again. The dark Slayer was shifting from foot to foot, her nerves palpable in the relative darkness of the kitchen. The vampire frowned to himself for a second, then sat down at the table, reaching for the jug of orange juice in front of him, pouring a glass and then staring at it, remembering that he didn’t actually drink orange juice in the morning.

“Angel!” Cordelia prompted him, wringing her hands together in despair. She could hardly bear to look at Faith, all stoic and determined. She’d seen that look on the other girl’s face before and it didn’t mean happy clappy times at all. Sometimes it infuriated her that Faith was like a big dumb old rock, immovable once she’d made up her mind. But mostly, it scared her when Faith got so single minded about stuff, especially stuff like heading off back to Sunnyhell. That place had never been any good, and no good would come of this, she was sure.

The vampire looked at Cordelia, acceptance painted across his face. “What?” he shrugged. “I can’t stop her if she wants to go.”

Faith flashed a triumphant smile across at Cordelia, whose face contorted into an expression of even more anguish.

“Although Faith, I have to say, you’ve had some pretty bad ideas in your time and this…well,” he folded his arms across his broad chest, “this pretty much beats them all hands down.”

The smile fell from Faith’s face as though someone had wiped it clean off. She frowned, and her arms dropped to hang limply by her sides. Listening to Angel was one of the things she did best; hell, he was practically the only person she did listen to. Above, beyond and apart from everyone else.

Now it was Cordelia’s turn to flash a triumphant smile. Only, judging from the expression on Faith’s face, it wasn’t the wisest thing to do. The dark Slayer scowled across at her and Cordy could swear that she heard a low growl to accompany the glance. She sat back in her chair as though reeling from a blow and decided to shut up. No mean feat for her.

“Angel you don’t understand – “ Faith began, but Angel cut her off.

“No Faith, I do understand. I understand perfectly. But don’t you see? Buffy’s gone. She’s gone.” His voice was flat and toneless, stating the facts that cut into Faith like a sharp blade, slicing through her bravado right down to the bone, and beyond. She felt her head sink onto her chest, looking down at the floor.

“I. Know. That.” Her voice came through gritted teeth as the old anger and pain surged briefly through her veins.

“What is going back to Sunnydale meant to achieve? What are you going to do for those people?” Angel didn’t intend to sound as cruel as his words indicated, but he knew that sometime, Faith was going to have to deal with this.

“I’m going to be the Slayer.” Faith’s head came up off her chest and her eyes glittered sienna brown as she looked at the vampire. She reached up and shoved the hair back from her face, for a second assuming the old cocky role she played so well. “I’m gonna do what I was meant to do all along.”

“Faith,” Cordelia’s voice drew the Slayer’s attention, “You’re not her. You can’t be her. You can only be you.” Her eyes pleaded with the Slayer’s hoping that she would at least hear something of what she had to say.

“Got news for you Prom Queen,” Faith pretended not to notice how Cordy flinched at the old nickname she used for her, knowing how much it rankled, “Maybe being me isn’t good enough. Maybe I got one last chance to prove that I can do this. To them. All of them.” She turned her gaze back to Angel, who was listening to her impassively, and drew a short breath. “I just want to do this Angel. And you know you can’t stop me. You know it.”

For a minute he locked his eyes with hers, communicating a whole lot more in one gaze than he had just done with words. In a way, he understood the exorcism she was going through. Ghosts of the past, he thought, how they returned to haunt us all, in one way or another. He nodded briefly, ignoring Cordelia’s gasp of despair as Faith returned his gesture with a curt nod, before leaving the room.



Tara’s patience was wearing thin. She was aware of Willow’s aim to please as she became increasingly agitated by the constant shuffling of people around her and their annoying chatter. They had landed in England, where Willow had excitedly told her they would take the train cross-country to the sea port in order to sail across to Ireland. When Tara had suggested that she was sure Ireland had an airport somewhere too, Willow had pooh-poohed the idea, insisting that this was all one big adventure. But somehow, that adventure had all gone horribly wrong when the train they were on to Holyhead, Wales, had been delayed in the middle of nowhere.

The train carriage was becoming hot and uncomfortable, and Tara was already overtired from the flight. Sitting next to Willow, she craned her neck to see out of the window. Fields. And yet more fields. For such a small country, England sure had a lot of fields, she thought irritably to herself.

Her loud sigh alerted her girlfriend to the fact that all was not well in Taraland. Concernedly, Willow rummaged in her backpack and pulled out a crumpled bag of candy that had been at its best when leaving Sunnydale. Now it just resembled something that had been crushed in a hot sticky bag for several long hours. “Candy?” she held out the bag to Tara, who fixed it with a distinct look of distaste before shaking her head. Willow looked so disconsolate that Tara couldn’t help grinning.

Leaning over to the redhead, she pretended to look out of the window whilst sliding her hand over Willow’s, running her fingertips over the back of the other girl’s hand. The redhead shivered slightly and turned so that her mouth was at Tara’s ear, where she whispered her love in a near silent voice.

“I love you too,” Tara murmured, her fingertips following an endless trail over Willow’s knuckles, reaching down to the ends of her fingers, then back up to her hand again. “In fact,” her voice dropped a few levels, sending yet another shiver down Willow’s spine, “I love you so much, I’ll even eat one of your horrid candies.”

Willow giggled. “Well maybe I’ve got something else sweet for you instead,” she teased, adoring the wide-eyed response from her girlfriend, followed by a deep blue gaze of desire that flickered through Tara’s eyes.

“Oh do tell…” Tara sniggered, leaning in closer to plant a kiss on Willow’s half parted lips, so close to her.

She had almost reached her goal when the train jerked to start again, making both of them jump, then laugh at their own foolishness. They had to agree, it kind of startled them both out of the mood somewhat, as now they were able to watch the scenery as they liked it best; in motion. Tara settled instead for leaning companionably against Willow as the other girl reached down and took her hand in her own, their fingers intertwining with one another’s.

“Thank goodness for that,” Willow exclaimed, her eyes reflecting the houses that were now flashing by at some pace, “The natives were getting restless. I thought that woman down there was going to lynch the conductor when he came through.”

Tara rested her head on Willow’s shoulder, “The natives are pretty clueless if you ask me. That woman asked the same question five times and still got no answer. I mean, what kind of a country is this anyway?” she grumbled, “Honestly Willow, could you make this journey any more complicated?”

Sitting back, Willow gazed sadly into her girlfriend’s eyes, obviously hurt by Tara’s blithe comment. “You don’t like this?” she asked, her voice taking on an almost childlike tone. “I just thought…you know, public transport would be kinda fun. Obviously in a not very fun kinda way…” she sighed, “I’m not doing a great job of this am I?”

“No honey…it’s not you,” Tara tugged Willow back towards her again, her fingers grabbing onto the other girl’s sweater. “I’m a bad traveller, always have been. I just want to get there. And I want to be alone with you.” She gave emphasis to the last sentence on purpose, wiggling her eyebrows to make Willow laugh. Luckily she did. Nice save, Maclay, Tara told herself, sighing inwardly. This was probably going to be a long holiday. Whether it would be long enough though, to assuage the guilt that they were both hiding from one another, only time would tell. Still, Tara tried to look on the bright side; they would be together, just the two of them. How bad could it possibly be?



“So you’re really going then?” Cordelia’s voice halted Faith as the dark Slayer heaved a bag onto her shoulder and made her way across the hotel foyer. Without looking back, Faith shrugged, letting the bag fall from her grasp.

“Yeah, I’m going.” She didn’t want any big goodbyes. She’d already said her farewells to Angel, asking for his advice. The only thing he had said to her was that she should be careful. Of what, or whom, he hadn’t elaborated on. Typical vampire, Faith grumbled to herself. Typical Angel, in fact. One day he’d maybe learn to talk in something other than riddles and then she’d get what he said most of the time. Second-guessing wasn’t her strong point; in fact, she smiled wryly to herself, first time guessing wasn’t her strong point either. But he hadn’t told her not to go, which, she supposed wasn’t such a bad thing.

“And I don’t suppose you thought to say goodbye to me?” Cordelia was right behind Faith now, her voice close and horribly personal. For a second, Faith thought she might turn around and beg Cordy to make her stay. But it was just for a second. By the time she had spun around and faced the other girl, she knew that it was time to leave.

A pair of luminous eyes met her own, laced with what looked like sorrow, or even tears. A nagging feeling in Faith’s gut warned her about feelings, about how they fucked you up, about how they got inside you and never let go. But, no matter how she tried to switch them off, one look from Cordy was all it usually took to turn them right back on again.

“Uh…goodbye?” Faith almost winced at the expression of hurt flitting over Cordy’s face, and wished she could take back the distinctly flippant manner in which she had spoken. She wished she could face up to this, up to what had been happening in her head and between them for a while now. But she also knew that as long as Buffy’s ghost was still hanging constantly at her back, she would never feel free to love anyone else. She stopped suddenly. Love? Where the hell did that come from? She didn’t love Prom Queen any more than Cordelia loved her. Stupid talk, she chided herself. Stupid thoughts. Stop thinking.

“Fine then, have a nice life.” Cordelia said haltingly, her body rigid with emotion as she closed her eyes just once, shutting out the last sight of Faith she thought she would ever have. She turned to walk away, something she knew she should have done that first night Faith showed up with Angel, when a hand caught her wrist and stopped her.

“Hey,” Faith said softly, moving forward to pull Cordelia towards her, “I won’t be gone forever.” She tilted her head to one side and gave Cordy her famous lopsided grin, “I’m gonna get to you if it kills me, so I kinda have to come back sometime, don’t I?”

Cordelia wanted to laugh, wanted to come back with some witty retort, but, standing almost eye-to-eye with Faith, she found she was unable to. Instead, she felt as though she was swimming helplessly in twin pools of deep brown, softly engaging her own gaze as if for the first time. She realised that her heart was pounding quite unreasonably in her chest, and a myriad of things she should have said flew through her brain at lightning speed, whilst she was quite, quite speechless.

“You make sure you keep Wes and the guys in line for me, okay?” Faith said, squeezing Cordy’s hand in her own. Cordelia nodded dumbly, a tiny frown forming between her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “And say bye to Dennis for me.” Faith added, “Dumb old ghost. Make sure he looks after you.” She let go of Cordy’s hand and for a fleeting moment, pressed her palm against the other girl’s cheek, letting it rest there briefly before moving away again to pick up her bag.

As she watched Faith walk slowly up the stairs towards the doorway, Cordelia felt a sense of panic rise inside her. What if this was it? What if this was the last time she ever got the chance to…to what? Not even she knew. All she knew was that this girl was walking out of the hotel any second and she’d never even said a word about how she felt.

“Faith!” The word left her lips in a cry of anguish, startling even herself. The dark Slayer stopped and turned slowly, the question in her eyes reaching Cordy and holding her gaze. “Take care,” Cordelia said slowly, treasuring every word, every second she had with her now, “If anything happened…I mean, if you…” she trailed off, angry at herself that she couldn’t put into words what was thumping away inside her head.

Faith grinned, her lopsided smile touching Cordy with true warmth and gratitude, and affection. “I know,” she said simply, “Tell me when I get back.” Hitching her bag further up onto her shoulder, she reached the top of the stairs, opened the door and then left.



Part 4

The journey from Holyhead to Dun Laoghaire was a relatively short one, thanks to the renowned Sea Cat that ran regularly across the Irish Sea. Like a floating hotel, it offered passengers the opportunity to play games, watch videos, eat, drink and generally make merry. Willow had chosen the night sailing so that she and Tara would have some opportunity, at least, to cope with jetlag, although neither girl seemed inclined to suffer as of yet. In fact, their first experiences had been kind of fun, pulling out of the dock and watching as the many smokers practically raced one another to the platform at the stern in order to up their nicotine levels even further. The two girls had giggled at some of the passengers, cranky children, complaining elderly couples and over amorous groups of young men, obviously on their way to break many a heart and quite possibly jaw, in Ireland.

They sat, huddled together on one of the benches near the stern platform, waiting for their opportunity to step outside and watch as they came into dock. For a couple of hours at least, they forgot who they were and where they had come from. For a couple of hours they were just two girls in love who liked being with one another. And it felt great. Willow wasn’t sure if she’d let Tara’s hand go once during the whole journey, and that felt pretty great too. It was easy to find the physical contact between them; easy to just sit and not talk. It was one of the things she loved most about Tara, the companionable silence they had acquired. Nothing was awkward when her skin was on Tara’s, and it felt like nothing mattered in those precious moments either.

An announcement on all decks informed them that they would soon be arriving at Dun Laoghaire. From there, they would travel on by train again to their final destination. But for now, it was approaching 6.30am, and the sun was almost up. Through the huge double doors at the stern, they could see a faint pinkish glow where the sky hit the sea on the horizon and it pulled them outside onto the viewing platform.

There were only a few other people out on the platform, the cold being one of the big deterrents to most tourists. Willow pulled her coat more firmly around her and was thankful when Tara slid her arms in an embrace round her body. Pulling Willow back against her chest, Tara rested her chin on Willow’s shoulder and they gazed out to sea, where a white trail showed their path across the ocean. The sound of the ship’s engines was almost drowned under a constant rushing of water as it churned and rumbled below their feet. High above, a few expectant seagulls wheeled and turned, following the ship on its course, hopeful for a few stray titbits of food, crying out occasionally as if to remind people of their mere existence.

Willow leaned back against Tara, feeling the warmth at her back and the comforting scent of her girlfriend mix evocatively with the salty smell in her nose, and the taste of the sea air on her tongue. She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes briefly and letting the smile of pure contentment spread across her lips.

Tara was watching the sun struggle up from where it seemed trapped in the water. Strands of clouds were being lit from below; their translucency taking on the colour of the sky, a blend of deep blues and amber pinks. She thought she had never seen anything quite as beautiful as the morning sun, rising out of the water to illuminate their faces with a vague yellow warmth that neither of them felt quite yet.

“See that? Isn’t it beautiful?” Tara whispered into Willow’s ear, her breath tickling against the other girl’s neck.

Willow opened her eyes and smiled, her hands trailing down to grasp Tara’s as they joined over her stomach. “It’s so lovely,” she said, her voice caught by the wind and danced away across the waves. “So peaceful. Why can’t every day be like this?”

Tara nuzzled into Willow’s neck and kissed her gently in that spot she so loved, just below the redhead’s ear. She looked up to see the sky immediately around the sun glow red and fiery, as though this was the first day of forever. “With you love, every day is like today. Every day is like now.”

“That’s so nice,” Willow squeezed Tara’s hands gently and sighed, her whole body moving up and down with the exhalation. Although the wind was quite chilly, she suddenly didn’t feel cold anymore. A warmth spread throughout her being, almost as though she was feeling love for the first time, feeling this for the first time. Turning, she spun around in Tara’s arms and looked up into the blue eyes that reflected the purity of the awakening sky around them. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered into Tara’s mouth, her own lips almost touching Tara’s own. “I don’t want to be without you,” she added, her voice almost a plea, a prayer, a reckoning.

“Oh love, you don’t have to be. I’m not going anywhere without you,” Tara answered, bringing her head down to press her lips briefly against Willow’s. The kiss echoed her sentiments, warming Willow’s cold mouth, bringing heat to her chilled body, bathing it in the light of Tara’s love.

Willow smiled and twisted around in Tara’s arms, and the two of them watched the sun rise on a newer day together.



Part 5

The jangle of the doorbell brought Giles up from behind the counter where he was stacking copies of a new book that was cunningly entitled ‘Teach Yourself Witchcraft’. A mere glance through it told him that it was less than useless, but he guessed that it would be a seller, mainly because it appeared that most people in Sunnydale fancied themselves as would-be witches. Well, he justified it to himself, it wasn’t exactly encouraging the occult, more guiding people away from it. He supposed in an odd way that congratulations were probably due. Another generation diverted from misuse of the black arts.

His thoughts naturally turned to Willow. Poor girl. When she and Tara had left for their holiday, Giles had been given the suspicion that he might not see her again. The fatigue with which she said goodbye; the dead look in her eyes; it had made his heart sink in realisation that death took its toll on everyone, in one way or another. Rarely had he seen a young woman so hopeless, with so little faith left in herself or in others. It reminded him of the way Buffy had been just before she…

His gaze flickered towards the door as attempted (and failed) to dispel the memory. But how could he? The one girl in all the world who had acted like, and for all purposes, felt like his own. And she was gone. He couldn’t imagine hurting more if it had been his own child that he had lost. He sighed a little to himself, realising that he’d done a lot of that lately. And for every sigh, there was a little more painful realisation that this time, she wasn’t coming back.

The figure who had walked through the door captured his attention once more as she moved further into the shop. As his eyes travelled upwards from heavy boots, up leather clad legs onto a denim jacket and a top that barely covered the girl’s navel, his heart leapt and sank all at once.

The girl approached the counter, watching with interest the expressions flying across the older man’s face. She tried a smile. A nice, casual smile of greeting. From the way his expression changed, she guessed it had come out more of a grimace. Faith groaned inwardly. She knew that seeing him again after just running out on Buffy would be hard, but from the way he was now removing his glasses and wiping furiously at the lenses, she was guessing it was pretty cataclysmic. And hey, who knew that word would pop right into her head at the moment she needed it least?

“Giles,” she said, drawing to a halt, her heavy boots thudding together on the wooden floor.

“Ah…Faith,” he answered, replacing his glasses and tugging nervously at his tie.

“Don’t overwhelm me with the emotional reunion there,” she half-joked. The tension in the air was almost stifling her. She felt it resting on her shoulders, like the weight of the world had been suddenly passed to her in some kind of mystical relay match. And all she wanted to do was run and run and run. Her teeth came out to bite at her bottom lip as she watched Giles come round the counter and stand in front of her. He was looking old, she thought, observing the crinkles around his eyes. He looked tired too. She guessed it had been hardest on him maybe, being Buffy’s Watcher and all. A faint sliver of her own Watcher crept into her mind and she pushed it away. Not now. Deal later. Not now though.

Giles looked at the girl in front of him, still the same old Faith stance, but something had changed. He knew that the last time they had met. But something else…as though she was filled with some higher purpose. Not just on the road to redemption but the road to another place. Forgiveness? Truth? All these things he knew Buffy had sought constantly in her need to find out her place in the world as a Slayer. But Faith had never expressed an interest in that sort of journey. Looking into her eyes for a brief moment, he saw a glimmer of emotion, of sadness, of a pain he had experienced only once in his life. After Jenny.

“Faith, dear girl,” he said, his voice choking as he reached out to her and pulled her roughly to him, his veneer slipping away. For a moment it seemed as though she was going to resist his embrace, but then he felt her arms grip him tightly and they held onto one another as though there was nothing else left for a long moment.

Pushing herself away, Faith rubbed fiercely at her eyes, trying to stop the tears. She coughed and looked down at the floor, where her boots were scuffing along the parquet covering. “I had to come,” she said simply. “I’m sorry…for you and uh…stuff.” Pursing her lips, she frowned. This had always been so hard for her, and never more than now.

“It was unavoidable,” Giles ushered her over to the large round table where they had once sat and held Scooby meetings with Buffy. The place resonated with her, there was no getting away from it. He had not been near the training room for a week, hardly wanting to feel her in every breath of air he took and exhaled. “It was a terrible, awful tragedy, but quite unavoidable. I believe the Watcher’s Council took it quite well, killed in the line of duty, they said.” His tone was flat, carrying none of the sentiment he truly felt.

“Nice,” Faith sat back in one of the chairs and slung her leg over the arm, in an attempt to appear casual. “Watcher’s fuckin’ Council. Do they have any idea what they’re talking about? Who they’re talking about?” she spat.

A tiny smile formed at the corners of Giles’ mouth and he eyed Faith carefully. For some reason, he was quite glad to hear her expletives and her attitude. It was something he had missed. “Succint as always, Faith,” he said softly. She looked up at him and nodded, shrugging off his subtle compliment, like she always did, with everyone. She figured she didn’t deserve them, so when people stopped giving them, tired of having her push them away, she found that she kind of missed it. But she would never admit that. Not even now, here, to Giles. She avoided meeting his eyes and leant back in the chair.

“Look, I’m here to help. Do what I can. Now B…now she’s not here, I just thought I could do something,” she pushed at her hair, flicking it back over her shoulder. “Anything, really.”

“Much as I appreciate the sentiment, Faith, it’s not really clear on what the Watcher’s Council intends to do about the Slayer. I know there’s you,” he gestured towards her with his finger, “and your offer is very kind. But we’ve been without a Slayer before and I suppose we are again. I’m really not clear on how this works.” He shook his head at some problem that had sprung up in his mind, pursing his lips thoughtfully, before taking a short breath. “It appears that demonic activity has hit an all time low. Perhaps it’s something to do with opening the portal, I’m not sure. But we manage, between us. Of course, Willow does the majority of the – “

“Willow! Is she here? And Tara?” Faith became animated at the mention of her friends, sitting up in the chair.

“Ah. They didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Giles removed his glasses and wiped at them again, taking the yellow cloth from his jacket pocket and quite deliberately taking his time. “They’ve gone on holiday.”

“So they’re coming back, right?” Faith heard the worried tone in his voice and it struck a fear in her own senses. “What, two weeks, three? I can wait.”

“I’m not sure how long,” Giles said, tapping his glasses against his cheek, avoiding her deep brown gaze for as long as he could. “Faith, Willow is dreadfully grief stricken. I’ve never seen her like this. From the way she was talking I’m rather under the impression that she’s not altogether bothered if she never sees Sunnydale again. Naturally, I can only hope that she does return. But these things…” he mused to himself for a second, “these things are never written in stone. She must find her own way back.”

“Bullshit!”

Giles eyes’ widened and he quickly retracted his appreciation of Faith’s ability to hit the nail on the head, then ram it home with alarming ferocity. He looked on, his mouth opening slightly as Faith shot up out of her chair and paced the floor.

“Faith, I really don’t see how this helps.”

“Oh don’t you? So you just let her go?” The dark Slayer turned and slammed her fists onto the table, making Giles jump. Her lip curled as she stared at him, “What the fuck is wrong with you all? Have you all just given up? Is that it? Buffy’s gone so we all die with her?” She couldn’t fail to notice the way Giles flinched at the sound of Buffy’s name. Hell, she felt her own gut crawling with the knowledge her mind kept throwing back at her. But she had to cling onto it and claw her own way back up. She had to.

“Faith,” Giles pushed his glasses back onto his nose and stared at her like a child who fails to understand a simple concept, “Things aren’t the same here anymore. Willow can’t assume the role that Buffy had, she must follow her own path, just as Buffy did.”

Taking her hands off the table, Faith paced backwards and forwards on the floor in front of Giles, her arms flinging this way and that as she muttered to herself. Finally she stopped and turned, looking right at him, her hands planted firmly onto her hips. “Look, she’s the best you got right now. And what about the Scoobies? I thought you guys were fighting the good fight, with or without a Slayer.”

A short laugh came from Giles as she shook his head. “Faith you don’t understand. Willow wasn’t born to this as you were, as Buffy is…was,” he corrected himself sadly, “This isn’t her birthright. She’s a human. Not a Slayer. And the rest of us…” he looked away sadly, “Xander and Anya are following their own paths too now.”

“Right,” Faith leant back a little, her eyes flashing fire, her face set grimly, “So you just all go on your merry way, never mind that Buffy died for you all. For everyone. But that’s okay,” her voice dripped with sarcasm, “’cos, you know, you’ve got every right to just give up. And you let every demon you ever met, every hellgod, every vampire…you let them win.” A look of disgust crossed her face, pulling her mouth downwards, “That’s the human thing to do.”

Giles shot up from his chair, his face set in a grim mask of anger, his eyes hard and bright behind his glasses. “Don’t you dare tell me about sacrifice!” he hissed, “Don’t you dare come in here and lecture me on what’s right and wrong.” He pointed his finger at her, jabbing the syllables out in his words, “You weren’t there!”

Silence roared in Faith’s ears like the blood of so many victims washing through her veins. She almost reeled from Giles’ attack, wanting to turn and run, as she had done so often before. Only the memory of another Slayer kept her feet still, locked in a position, facing Giles in a standoff neither of them really wanted.

“I’m here now.” Her words were soft and submissive as she looked directly at him, their eyes meeting across the table. Giles blinked slowly, then sank back into his chair, his hands shaking as he removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry Faith,” he muttered, “It’s been so hard. And the Scooby Gang is falling apart, it’s all falling apart. And I’m afraid Willow wants to absolve herself in some way; she’s taken this so hard. It’s as though she’s broken and nothing can put her back together.”

Faith slowly sat down again, leaning forward on the table, resting on her elbows. “Giles, she’s gotta come back. Willow has to do this, for herself, for all of you. She’s the big hitter now. She’s like, the one in charge.”

“Of course, yes,” Giles sighed, “But without Buffy she feels she has no reason to stay.”

“Then I find her, and I explain, and she comes back. Simple.” Faith waved her hand around, as though it were the easiest thing in the world.

“I’m not sure that’s what she wants.”

“Well I am. I’m sure,” Faith said firmly, pressing one fist into the palm of her other hand. “She can’t give up on you, on this. B never did.”

Giles steeled himself to say the words and realise their truth. “Buffy’s not here anymore Faith. She’s gone.”

“Right.” Faith bit her lip for a second. Gotta focus, gotta keep it in line, she told herself. “And if Willow never comes back here, she’ll never accept that. I know Giles,” she prodded her chest with a thumb, “I’ve run away from everything more than once. But I came back. I had to. You said she has to find her own way back, well you’re wrong. She has to want to look for it first. Now,” she sat down again, clenching her fists together in her lap, “tell me where she is.”



“So where are we again?” Tara asked, as they hauled their bulging rucksacks off the little train and onto the platform. She followed Willow through the doors past the ticket office, noticing with a sinking heart the peeling paint and décor that might be termed by some as ‘rustic’ but, to her tired eyes, only looked like ‘untidy’.

Willow led Tara to the top of the steps outside the station and flung out her arm in a grand gesture. “This is Howth. Historical village. And it’s by the sea!” she added excitedly. She was aware that she was over compensating madly but she sensed, rather than saw, the disillusionment in Tara’s gait. When she got like this, Willow’s sense of protection and encouragement set in. Sure, all she wanted was a hot bath and some sleep, but she had to get Tara there first, whatever it took. She grabbed the blonde girl’s hand and led her down the steps of the station, noticing the pub that ran underneath.

“The Bloody Stream,” she explained, pointing with her other hand to the wooden seating below and floral baskets hanging, it seemed, from every available point.

Tara frowned, “Is that like, a local name, swearing or something?”

Willow laughed, despite herself, “No honey, some battle took place here that was so bad, apparently the stream turned red with blood. You know, that’s the way Europeans did things in those days,” she added knowledgeably, her seriousness almost bringing a grin to Tara’s pale face.

“Right. So let me get this, you bring me from a hellmouth to a place where people turn streams red with blood? Nice.”

Willow’s smile fell and she let go of Tara’s hand as they reached the road running past the station. Pushing a hand against her hair, she bit at her lip, hoping against hope that Tara’s taciturn mood wasn’t going to last. Ever since Buffy’s death, Tara had retreated more into herself if that was possible. And over the last few days, she’d been cranky as hell. There were times when she felt like she was going to bite her tongue off with the temptation to give Tara as good as she got herself. She felt the blonde walk up beside her and stop, sighing loudly.

“I’m sorry.”

Willow turned and looked closely at Tara. Sure, she said she was sorry, but the irritable expression in her eyes still remained. Eyes that were flicking away from her scrutiny and following the road down the left, where the village lay in the distance. A chill settled over Willow’s chest, constricting her breathing for a second as she wondered how she was going to deal with this. She hated fighting with anyone, especially Tara. But these days, sniping at one another was all they seemed to do. Her mind drifted back to the sunrise they had watched only this morning. It seemed so long ago that they had shared a moment of perfect happiness, whereas now she felt like if she moved, she’d surely crush the eggshells she seemed to be walking on all the time.

“Willow, I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m tired. Can we just go to the hotel?” Tara reached out and slid her fingers through Willow’s, pulling the redhead closer to her. She clenched her teeth as anger rose inside her, wanting to get rid of it somehow, but not knowing where to put it, or where it came from. Most of all though, she wanted to hide it from Willow at all costs. Her lover was so fragile these days, tears one minute, laughter the next. It was becoming harder and harder to keep up with her, and sometimes Tara wasn’t even sure if she wanted to.

“Sure,” Willow offered a half-hearted smile to Tara. “The Baily Inn. I think it’s down there…” she pointed towards the village and then pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket, letting go of Tara’s hand to open it up. “Yeah,” she nodded, flicking back her hair with a sharp movement of her head, “Should be a couple of minutes walk, that’s all.”

Tara hitched her backpack further up onto her shoulders and let out a sigh. “Great. Let’s go.” And she began trudging along the road slowly into town, leaving a confused and slightly hurt Willow gazing after her.



Part 6

The Baily Inn overlooked the village green in Howth. To all intents and purposes, Howth was just another idyllic fishing village north of Dublin; a hideaway place that prided itself on Viking invasions and lavish histories of Irish kings from long ago. But the truth was, Howth had a fierce tourist trade running through it from summer to summer. The hotel owners set themselves up in competition with one another and regularly offered ‘traditional’ lodgings for guests with Irish culture thrown in for free. This tended to consist of many a rowdy get together where Guinness flowed like the nectar of the gods and whiskey was poured down throats in bucketfuls. All in all, Howth was a humming centre of inclusion when it came to the tourist trade.

From the Baily Inn, the view was breathtaking. Howth Castle nestled in the hills above the village, the steep slope running down to the large green where benches were set at convenient intervals for those wishing to sit and look out over the bay. The harbour itself was enclosed by vast stone walls running out to the lighthouse, imperiously perched at the end of the promenade. Past that, the bay reached out to Ireland’s Eye, the offshore island that was now a bird sanctuary, but at one time had been a monastery of silence and virtue.

Boats bobbed up and down in the harbour as the waves made their rhythmic music on the shale beach that edged the bay; the salt tang in the air mixing with the wind that whipped both girl’s hair playfully from side to side as they approached their hotel. Tara couldn’t take her eyes off the sea, and the island in the bay. It was so quiet, with only the occasional car passing them, and a few people out walking. From somewhere on the village green there was an excited dog barking once or twice, but apart from that, just the sea reached her ears. She briefly closed her eyes; it was intoxicating. So different from anything she had seen before. So clean, so fresh…and nothing at all like the stifling atmosphere of Sunnydale.

Turning to Willow, she caught the same look in the other girl’s eyes, and they shared a true smile for the first time in hours. Willow nodded, as if hearing Tara’s thoughts, and took in a deep breath of the clean sea air. Letting out her breath in an almost sigh, she led Tara up the pathway in front of the hotel, past more alarmingly colourful floral displays to the whitewashed front. The door was heavy and dark, the dimmed interior leaving both girls blinking in blindness at the brightness they had left outside.

The foyer of the hotel was lavishly furnished in dark woods and mahogany furniture, sporting huge wooden chairs along one wall and a high counter along the other, on top of which sat a bright brass bell. Stairs led away from them in front and a thickly carpeted corridor ran in front of them, glass-panelled doors along either side.

Willow pressed her hand onto the bell, wincing at the loud sound it made in the veritable quiet of the foyer. She looked round nervously at Tara, who raised her eyebrows and shrugged, nonplussed, in reply. Glancing around her, Tara scrutinised the sepia photographs, carefully framed and placed onto the wall, depicting various historical stages of Howth, she assumed. Squinting, she tried to decipher the writing underneath each photograph, but concluded that it was in Gaelic. Willow would know, she thought to herself, Willow knew some Gaelic. Her own knowledge of the language was restricted to incantations, and she was pretty sure that the photograph of a man in oilskins holding up a large fish, a bright smile across his face, wasn’t an incantation of any kind.

“Hello ladies,” a large figure bustled out from the office behind the counter and leaned across it, a pair of bright eyes twinkling from underneath an unruly mop of greying hair.

Startled, Willow and Tara turned back to see their host, a middle aged woman with a wide smile and smart clothes, nodding gently at them. She held out her hand. “I’m Maeve Kelly, and you must be our two American guests.”

“Uh…I’m Willow and this is Tara,” Willow held out her hand to feel it grasped firmly and pumped up and down with almost frightening vigour. She watched as Tara’s hand was handled in the same way and half smiled at the expression on her girlfriend’s face. Tara was so cute when she met new people, she thought to herself, the shyness and overwhelming hope that they would like her always brought a sweet kind of panic to her eyes. “Nice to meet you Mrs Kelly,” she added, bringing the other woman’s gaze back to rest on her again.

“Ah well now, it’s lovely to have you here. And please girls, it’s Maeve. Don’t make me sound as old as I feel now, will you,” Mrs Kelly burst out laughing at her own joke, putting a hand to her heart. Willow and Tara smiled weakly and looked down at their shoes. “Have either of you ever been to Ireland before?” Mrs Kelly reached behind her to a board that was filled with keys, pulling one off the hook.

“No, this is our first time. We went to England last summer and we loved it so we thought we’d come here this year.”

Mrs Kelly lifted a huge book from the desk under the counter and put it in front of them, spinning it round so that they could read it properly. “I see. Well it’s not got much in the way of nightlife here, but I’m sure you’ll find plenty to occupy yourselves in the daytime. Could you both just sign here please?” she tapped a vacant line on the page, requesting names and addresses from both girls, and a signature.

“W-we’re not really into nightlife,” Tara stepped forward, taking the pen from Willow and adding her own name next to her girlfriend’s. She glanced across at the redhead and they shared a wry smile. Nightlife was definitely something they wanted to leave behind in Sunnydale, that was for sure.

“And don’t you look Irish, with all that red hair,” Mrs Kelly took the book and placed it carefully back onto the desk, whilst her eyes roamed over Willow, eliciting a self-conscious grin from the redhead.

“I’m uh…Jewish,” Willow said, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

Mrs Kelly let out another burst of laughter, “Oh and we have Jews in Ireland too you know!” she put her hand to her heart again, “And Tara, what a nice Irish name. So pretty. You know in the days of the Gaelic tribes, the kings of Tara occupied Howth, so your name keeps you in good company. Anyway,” she picked up the key from the counter, “I put you in room 3, it has a lovely view of the bay and the island beyond. My husband runs boat trips out there if you’re interested at all. Perhaps when you’ve settled in you might want to go.” She turned back towards the office and leant forwards, raising her voice, “Niamh!”

Turning back to the two girls she thrust the key towards Willow, “My daughter, Niamh will show you your room. Any problems at all, don’t hesitate to call me. I’m always here. Or if I’m not, then Niamh will be.”

Willow took the key from her and smiled gratefully. A tall, slim, dark-haired girl emerged from the office, greeting the two witches with a shy smile. Glancing back at Tara, Willow couldn’t help grinning as the girl led them up the stairway, thankfully away from the rather overbearing Mrs Kelly. It seemed as though Niamh had got the looks in the Kelly family and, from the way that Tara pulled a face back at her, the blonde thought so too.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Niamh led Willow and Tara to a heavy wooden door on the left. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a clanking bunch of keys and unlocked the door, pushing it open and walking inside. The room itself wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to house a large wardrobe and two chests of drawers, situated underneath the wide window, through which light streamed from the bay.

“That door is the bathroom,” Niamh spoke for the first time, blushing as she did so, not making eye contact with either girl, her lilting accent making what she said sound like an exclamation of love, rather than instructions. “There are fresh towels in there if you want to use them.” Finally she lifted her head, looking at them both with deep blue eyes, “If you want to know where to go, ask me, I’m always around. So, are you really from America?” she said all of this in a breathless rush, giving away not only her youth but also her insular upbringing all in one sentence.

Entering the room during this, Willow’s face fell at the sight of two twin beds, side by side, with a nightstand in between them. She looked back at Tara, unable to read the expression on the blonde’s face, then back at the beds and sighed inaudibly.

“We’re from California,” Tara said; smiling at the younger girl, dropping her heavy backpack onto the bed, glad to be rid of the weight.

“I’ve always wanted to go there, ever since I was little,” Niamh sighed, looking at the two of them as though they were film stars or something. “What’s it like?”

Tara sat on the end of her bed and was about to explain to Niamh that Sunnydale wasn’t exactly like in the movies, unless you were watching Nightmare on Elm Street, that is, when Willow dropped her backpack and turned, blurting everything out in a tone of despair.

“We wanted a double room,” she said, looking at Niamh carefully. “We booked a double room.”

“That’s what this is,” Niamh looked around the room, an expression of confusion on her pretty face. She took a step backwards to the door and frowned.

“Yes…but we’re…” Willow began, a note of frustration in her voice. “Me and Tara, we’re – “

“Willow.” Tara warned, receiving a rather hard glance from her girlfriend as she did so. She shook her head imperceptibly, but it was too late, Niamh took another step backwards, realisation dawning on her face. She held a hand to her mouth and flushed bright red.

“Oh! You two are a – I mean, you’re together? Together together?”

Tara dropped her head onto her chest and sighed. It wasn’t that she was ashamed, it was just that Willow did still insist on telling everyone, whether they accepted it or not. She felt the prick of anger inside her chest and tried as hard as she could to ignore it.

“Yeah,” Willow nodded, looking back at the twin beds again and shrugging. “I thought that was obvious when I booked.”

“Well it’s not that I mind, I mean, I don’t mind, I mean, that’s cool by me,” Niamh was turning puce as she held onto the door for support, avoiding looking at either one of them, “But mum’s a bit…” she sighed, “she’s a bit old fashioned about that kind of stuff.”

“You mean she’d throw us out?” Willow’s voice hardened and she folded her arms across her chest, assuming her resolve face to end all resolve faces.

Niamh looked down at her feet, clearly embarrassed by the whole concept, whether for herself or her family it was hard to tell. Tara, looking up, decided to take matters into her own hands. She stepped forward and lightly touched Niamh on the arm, making the girl look up at her.

“The room is lovely, thank you Niamh. It’ll be fine,” she said comfortingly, ignoring the indignant intake of breath from Willow behind her. “Don’t worry about a thing. Okay?”

Niamh smiled at her, a smile that lit up her whole face and brought warmth into her eyes. She avoided looking at Willow, instead focusing on Tara and grinned. “Well if you’re sure…”

“We’re sure. Thanks Niamh,” Tara nodded.

“Well if you want to do anything, I mean, need anything, or you know, just know anything, ask for me. I don’t mind about…you know, I’m okay about that stuff.” Niamh stepped back over the threshold and flashed a shy grin at Tara once more as the blonde nodded, closing the door and leaning heavily on it. Now came the hard part, she sighed, looking over at Willow, whose face was almost white with a hard rage.

“Tara!”

“Willow, before you start with me, I don’t want to hear it, okay?” Tara wearily sat back down on her bed again, hearing the dull thud as Willow practically threw herself onto her own bed, only inches away but feeling like hundreds and hundreds of miles.

“You’re ashamed of us?” Willow challenged, her jaw jutting out defiantly.

“No of course not,” Tara said, frowning and running her fingers up to squeeze the bridge of her nose, feeling too tired for yet another argument. “It’s just you know, Ireland isn’t exactly on the top ten list of gay hotspots and nightspots. People here, they don’t always join in with the rest of the world in embracing gay couples.” She looked over at Willow and tried a smile, taking in her girlfriend’s disconsolate expression with worry and fatigue, “I mean, walking in here and saying ‘Hi! We’re lesbian witches!’ probably wouldn’t go down too well, to be perfectly honest.”

Willow couldn’t help grinning, despite herself. She relaxed a little; lying back on her bed and letting her gaze run lazily over Tara, relishing every curve of the woman she loved. “But honey, twin beds? Maybe we can push them together or something…” she looked up and down the two beds, her brow furrowing in thought.

“Or maybe we could just sleep in our own beds for a couple of nights,” Tara suggested, realising immediately that she’d said the wrong thing. Willow’s face fell again, her eyes widening as she registered what Tara had just said.

“You don’t want to sleep with me?” The redhead’s voice sounded very small as she searched her girlfriend’s face for some kind of reasoning behind that. The little chill in her chest grew, spreading out even further inside her, freezing tendrils wrapping themselves around her lungs.

“Willow…”

“No Tara, what’s wrong? You don’t want to sleep with me? I can understand not telling the world we’re a couple but you don’t want to be alone with me in bed?” Willow’s voice wavered with unshed tears as her eyes glistened over towards Tara.

Standing up, Tara closed her eyes, feeling the impatience, the anger; the tiredness hit her all at once. She walked across the room towards the door at the back of it and shook her head. “It’s not that Willow,” she said, pressing her lips together.

“So, what then?” Willow sat up, her eyes following Tara across the room.

“I just want to…”

“What? You just want to what?” The pleading tone in Willow’s voice hit the wrong spot in Tara’s sympathies. She felt her jaw harden as she clenched her teeth together and was afraid if she said something now, she would never be able to take it back. And despite all her efforts, she knew that talking about this now would just open up all the feelings hurling themselves around inside of her. There would be time for that; she wasn’t sure when, of course, but there would be time for that. And that time wasn’t now.

“Well?” Willow prompted, her green eyes dark and wide.

“I just want to have a bath,” Tara said abruptly, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind her.


Part 7

Tara let the bathwater run hot, adding some lotion from a bottle that sat neatly on a shelf above the sink with two others, the complimentary soap and shampoo that hotels often offered. Replacing it, she turned to sit on the side of the bath, watching as bubbles formed and floated on the surface of the water, a fruity scent rising from the water. Steam began to mist up the surface of the mirror, something Tara was glad about, as she caught a glimpse of her reflection. She looked troubled, unhappy, perhaps she’d never seen herself like this before. Whatever it was, the sight of her own face bothered her more than she could comprehend.

She reached down, trailing her fingers in the water, pulling them swiftly out again as the heat seared into her fingertips. Leaning forward, she twisted the cold tap, letting the water thunder into the half-filled bath. Sighing, she stood up, removing her clothes, letting them fall into a heap on the bathroom floor. As she pulled her t-shirt off over her head, she shook her hair out, smoothing at it with her hands, her fingers drifting down over her neck, to where her breasts swelled out. She let her fingertips explore her own skin for a moment, almost absent-mindedly, feeling the smoothness there with a sensuality that tingled its way down her body. How long had it been since she and Willow had truly touched each other? How long had it been since they had shared a moment of intense contact like they used to?

Shaking her head, she broke out of her reverie and returned to the bath, testing the water again. Just right. She turned off both taps and was almost shocked at the silence in which she stood, naked, in the middle of the bathroom. Lifting one leg, she got into the bath and sat down, stretching her legs out in front of her and laying one arm along the side. The heat spread around her, caressing her skin, the water becoming a fluidity that seeped into her tired body. Leaning back, she rested her head on the wall of the shower cubicle behind the bath and closed her eyes, letting out a long breath of relaxation.

She and Willow hadn’t communicated properly for quite a while now. There were moments, of course, those stolen moments when things seemed okay and happiness stole up on them both. And in those moments, when it was just the two of them, they were almost lost in the delirium it tempted them with; a feeling that used to be created by their mere closeness to one another. But consciously, they controlled the way they talked and acted now. And although they clung to one another in bed, it seemed as though they were both drowning in a darkness that was always there, drifting around them, just waiting to get inside and take a hold.

Tara shifted her legs slightly, feeling the warm water drift around her hips, tiny droplets rolling off her stomach into the white froth of bubbles that clung to her skin. She knew she was withdrawing from Willow, god, did she know it. But the fear she had often felt in the early days of their relationship was returning to haunt her with a ferocity that she couldn’t keep away. Her mind drifted back to three years ago, to that day when her father had come home from the hospital, his face white and drawn. She had known the instant he walked through the door what had happened. He didn’t even need to tell her. Instead, she had met his stony gaze with a frightened gasp and run away to her room. It had felt like the bottom had dropped out of her world, on the day she had lost her mother. All her senses had left her, and numbness had frozen her heart for so long. Until Willow.

After her mother and before Willow she had hidden from everyone. Hidden her feelings, because nobody wanted them. Her father and her brother had treated her no better than a servant, presumably because they had treated her mother the same way, and one less woman around the house meant twice as much work for her, she guessed. Tara couldn’t remember ever seeing her father smile after her mother died. He had closed himself off to her, seeing his wife every time he looked at her features, her hair, her eyes. And that had made him so hard and cruel, what other option did she have but to shut off the emotion that she wanted to show? It just wasn’t done in their family. Emotions were a luxury that it seemed none of them could afford.

All the love she had wanted to give to him had been denied, and in the end, she had kept it all inside, not offering it to anyone at all. Her worst fear was that they too, would turn on her with the same expression her father used to, such disgust and pain in his eyes. Worthless and useless, that was what he used to mutter under his breath when he thought she wasn’t listening. But she always heard him. And every word cut deeper than any physical pain he might have subjected her to.

When Willow had come into her life, it had taken Tara such a long time to come to terms with the fact that here was someone she could give love to, and who would return it. For months she had struggled to rationalise what was happening between them; the word ‘love’ was so foreign to her. Love only meant pain, suffering, and rejection. But with Willow there was none. Only acceptance, comfort and a feeling of peace like she’d never known before. And it was all right to feel that way, Tara had discovered, it was normal to feel that way. Not wrong, not unsuitable, just right. Being part of something bigger than herself had felt so beautiful, it had made Tara feel beautiful too, for the first time since her mother had died.

Opening her eyes, Tara shifted her position again and sank deeper into the water, letting her hair trail around her shoulders as it got wet and heavy. Yes, she thought, Willow had made her feel beautiful again. So why was it so hard between them now?

If she allowed herself to think back to the days following Buffy’s death, all she could remember was that Willow had thrown herself into patrolling again, researching different ways of dispatching vampires and demons. In fact, Willow had unwittingly stepped into Buffy’s shoes right away, without waiting to see if they fit properly, or even if they suited her.

Occasionally, in the nights they spent together, Willow would cry for a while, letting Tara hold her, but mostly she told herself and Tara that it was pointless; Buffy was gone and there was no use wishing she was back, because that wasn’t going to happen, no matter how much she cried or wanted it. She had gotten angry with herself because of it, choosing instead to take out her anger on the demons, vampires and other night creatures that kept her away from Tara’s bed.

Tara sighed, closing her eyes again. Willow had shut down emotionally. Not only to herself, but also to the one person she had always been so open with. When Joyce died, Willow had turned to Tara, and the two of them had been united in grief over the death of a mother. There had been no questioning, no anger, just grief. But this time was different. Tara knew that. Inside, she was aware of a burgeoning feeling of hopelessness that had been creeping up on her ever since Buffy’s death. In a world where death walked side by side with them every day and night, Tara had come to realise that it wasn’t the death that confused you, it was the life that person carried with them that you missed. Dying wasn’t the painful part, losing the hope you invested in someone was. And she had lost her hope.

The corners of her mouth turned down and she felt tears rise in her throat, pricking the backs of her eyes. Yes, she’d lost hope. Everyone she ever loved; all the protection they offered her, it was all gone now. Her mother, who loved her above and beyond anything else, had left her all alone. Joyce, who was so welcoming and sympathetic, had been cruelly taken from them. And now Buffy, into whose family she had been invited with open arms, the Slayer who had stepped forward to keep her father from destroying her any further than he had done already; she was gone too.

A tear rolled down Tara’s cheek as she felt the sobs catch in her chest. How long was it going to be before Willow was taken? Everyone she had ever loved; everyone who had ever loved her and kept her safe was gone. Surely it was only a matter of time before Willow left? Right now, in her mind, it made sense to keep her distance. Hide the feelings Tara, she told herself, hide them away and nobody will get hurt, that’s the way it’s always been, so that’s the way it has to be now.

She brought her hand up to her face and wiped at the tears on her cheek. That would start right now with no more tears. She’d done crying over this. It was finished.



Pressing her ear to the bathroom door, Willow couldn’t hear anything. A frown crossed her features as she paced back and forth between the bed and the bathroom door, twisting her fingers against one another. That look on Tara’s face really unnerved her. She’d never seen her look so hard before. It was as though something had gone between them and neither of them had noticed, just like it was missing all of a sudden.

She stopped walking. Taking a breath, she tapped on the bathroom door lightly, and waited. Nothing. She tapped again, this time twisting the handle and walking into the steam filled room. Tara was lying in the bath, her eyes closed, seemingly in a trance. Certainly she didn’t acknowledge Willow’s entry. The redhead closed the door behind her and sat down on the edge of the bath, touching Tara’s arm lightly with her fingertips.

“Hey,” she said gently.

Tara opened her eyes, looking up at her and gave her a faint smile. “Hey.”

“Look, Tara, before you say anything, I’m sorry, okay?” Willow ventured, watching as the smile never left Tara’s lips, although her eyes seemed heavy with sadness. “I know I get all crazy sometimes and I shouldn’t take it out on you but I just don’t know what’s going wrong with us and I wish I did because then I could do something about it and make things right again like they used to be and – “

“Willow, please remember to breathe,” Tara said in a low voice, half grinning up at her girlfriend, “I’m really not in a position to perform CPR right now.

“Oh,” Willow blushed, leaning forward, her hair hanging over her eyes. She attempted a smile that quickly faded again as she met her lover’s gaze. “Sorry.”

“And stop apologising!” Tara shook her head.

“Sorr- uh, I mean, right,” Willow nodded firmly. “I can do that.”

A smile of understanding passed between them and both were quiet for a minute before Willow reached her hand down and swirled it in the water, making little waves that lapped at Tara’s skin. She twirled her fingers around, absent-mindedly watching the ripples that spread out towards her lover’s naked body, her eyes drinking in the pink skin that lay just beneath the surface of the water.

“Tara, what’s happening?” she asked sadly, her eyes fixed on her own fingers.

“I don’t know, love,” Tara answered quietly.

“You do love me, don’t you?” Willow’s eyes swung upwards to meet Tara’s, pale green with despair and need for affirmation.

“I do Willow. Of course I do. I wish I could give you answers but I don’t have any. Sometimes things happen that we can’t explain. There’s been so much lately, I’m not sure I know where I am anymore. Or who I am.” Tara spoke slowly and deliberately, choosing her words ever so carefully in the hope that this time, Willow would understand.

“So much…yes, I know. Too much.” Willow nodded, her hair swinging as she moved her head. “Too much death.” She pulled her hand out of the bath and reached for a towel from the rail on the opposite wall, wiping her fingers dry on its fluffed surface. “Too much death,” she repeated, her eyes misting and fixed far away.

“I need time, Willow.” Tara said, bringing her girlfriend’s gaze back to look at her. She reached out with her hand and grasped Willow’s fingers in her own, stroking at them briefly. “I just need time, to work this out…it’s like, I don’t know what’s going on half the time. When Buffy…w-when Buffy died,” she shook her head, feeling Willow tense at the mere mention of it, “I felt like a part of you died with her. And I don’t want to lose you, Willow, I really don’t.” She looked almost pleadingly up at the redhead.

“Maybe we both just need time then,” Willow said softly, squeezing Tara’s hand before letting go and pulling away. “I’ll uh…I’ll leave you to your bath.” She gave Tara a tight smile before standing up and leaving the bathroom. But the tension she had brought with her remained with the blonde witch for a long while after, settling itself nicely in her head and creeping its way into her heart.

By the time Tara emerged from the bathroom, Willow was nothing more than a blanket covered figure in bed, looking tiny as she curled up underneath the covers. Whether she was asleep or not, Tara wasn’t sure, but Willow didn’t move, her body rigid and motionless in the bed that enveloped her small frame. In the stillness of the room, Tara could hear Willow’s steady breathing and she sat down on her own bed, wishing that Willow would turn over so that she could see her face. But the redhead remained where she was, the back of her head peeking up over the covers, a few strands of hair lying vibrantly against the pale blankets. Tara sat for a long time looking over at her girlfriend, before pulling the curtains against the daylight outside, and crawling into her own bed, closing her eyes and letting sleep take her away.



Part 8

Neither girl had been prepared for sleep to take them both for almost a full day. They had woken around seven that evening, gone downstairs for a meal that proved to be more than filling, and then dragged themselves back to bed, where they slept for almost another twelve hours. Willow had been suspicious of the length of time they had been asleep, thinking to herself that perhaps it wasn’t just jetlag, but maybe a good way of putting some time and space between them. But when she woke up early in the morning, she couldn’t deny feeling refreshed and ready to start their holiday. She smiled to herself, ‘their’ holiday. That sounded good.

Looking over to Tara’s bed, Willow crept across and sat down on the edge of it, pulling the blankets down to see the face that still slept. Grinning, she trailed her fingers down Tara’s cheek until the other girl opened her eyes, a bleary smile crossing her lips briefly as she looked up at Willow.

“Mmm morning,” Tara said, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Morning yourself, gorgeous,” Willow said, her eyes twinkling. “You always look so cute when you’re waking up.”

Tara groaned and rolled over in bed, pressing her face into the pillow. “I look horrid in the morning Willow, and you know it.”

“No you don’t,” Willow giggled, leaning down and pressing herself onto Tara’s body through the blankets, her fingers reaching out to worm their way underneath the covers, finding Tara’s ticklish spot, just above her waist. The blonde began to laugh, despite herself, and squirmed away from Willow’s fingers. But it was pointless; the more she wriggled, the more Willow attacked her mercilessly, until the two of them were inextricably tangled up in bedclothes and, more importantly, each other.

Breathing heavily, Tara found herself face to face with Willow, a pair of green eyes looking intently into her own. The lips that she knew so well were only inches from her own, the other girl’s mouth open and almost alarmed at their sudden closeness. Hardly knowing what she was doing, Tara leaned forward and captured Willow’s lips in a kiss, the contact sending a sigh up and down her body, tingling its way down to her toes and flexing her fingers.

Willow moaned softly, leaning in, her fingers arching and pressing into Tara’s flesh, no longer tickling, now caressing, scraping themselves up and down the pliant body beneath her touch. She gave herself to the moment, relishing it, letting it transport her back to other times, when they were like this all the time. Tara’s tongue slipped through her lips and touched her own, tentatively brushing over it, then softly stroking it.

Feeling Willow’s fingers on her body, Tara brought her own hand up from underneath the bedclothes, sliding it from Willow’s waist to where the redhead’s breast leant towards her. She spread her fingers over it gently, feeling the nipple peak under her touch, the material of Willow’s pyjamas soft under her skin.

Willow sat up, breaking the kiss, moving away from Tara’s caress. An odd expression flitted through her eyes and she frowned momentarily before standing up.

Hurt, Tara leant back in her bed, slightly shaking her head with confusion, her eyes pooling to a deep blue of emotion. Her mouth open, she took a breath and pressed her lips together. “Okay,” she said slowly.

“Tara, it’s not you, it’s me,” Willow said breathlessly, returning to her own bed and sitting down, her fingers gripping the bed so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “I don’t know what happened, I just felt – “

“N-n-no, it’s okay,” Tara pressed her lips together, annoyed at her stuttering. She had sensed it too, a withdrawal. And in her heart of hearts, she had expected it too. That’s what made it all the more hurtful. She looked across at Willow, who was sitting somewhat dumbstruck, her eyes staring down at the floor. “Look, let’s go to b-breakfast and do something today, okay? It’s fine.”

“Tara…” Willow whispered, her face drained of colour and filled with shock.

The blonde got up out of bed and walked over to Willow, putting her hand on her shoulder and pressing gently. So much more she wanted, to put her arms around the woman she adored and hold her close; to tell her that she loved her, that just being with her was more wonderful than she could ever say, that looking at Willow was the only thing she wanted to do for the rest of her life. All this and more rushed through her head and exploded into her heart at that moment.

Instead, she took her hand from Willow’s shoulder and smiled a smile that belied her true feelings. “Let’s have some fun today,” she said in an even tone. Willow looked up at her and smiled gratefully.

Tara walked towards the bathroom, the smile falling coldly from her lips as she reached for the door. Hidden, she reminded herself, keep them all hidden. Then she’ll never know how much losing her hurts.



Niamh was serving breakfast and rushed over to seat Willow and Tara as soon as the entered the dining room. As they sat down, Willow cast her gaze over the room; the décor was more of the same that they had seen in the foyer, and it looked like the hotel wasn’t actually very busy. Either that or, she checked her watch, the other residents weren’t up yet. A couple sat by the far wall, shoving food into their mouths as fast as they could and not even looking at one another, never mind talking. Willow shuddered involuntarily; she didn’t want herself and Tara to end up like that. Her fear of what happened this morning happening again meant that she hadn’t even been close to Tara ever since, never mind talked to her. They had politely and carefully avoided one another all the way down here.

“So have you got plans for today then?” Niamh asked brightly as she placed a rack of toast on the table and delivered the huge metal teapot that was steaming from its spout.

Tara looked at Willow, who immediately glanced up at Niamh. “Uh, we thought we’d go to the castle.”

Niamh stood back and folded her arms, the tea towel she was carrying clutched in one hand. Flicking her hair back with a swift movement of her head, she grinned down at them. “Oooh, the castle. You know we have a ghost there?” she tilted her head to one side, her eyes blinking with a playful innocence.

“What kind of a ghost?” Tara asked, pouring herself a cup of tea and eyeing it gratefully. Spending all that time with Mr Giles in the Magic Box had obviously rubbed off on her in some way, she realised, with a smile at the memory of the Watcher.

“Well legend says it’s the ghost of a pirate queen who used to sail the waters around Howth. She haunts the castle, that’s why they leave the gate open up there,” Niamh leant forward, clearly enjoying telling the story. She was also enjoying the rapt attention she was getting from the two witches.

“Pirates?” Willow echoed, glancing across at Tara who grinned back, sipping at her cup of tea. “You mean like, swashbuckling, sword-carrying, grrr argh type pirates?” her gaze returned to Niamh.

“That’s the way the story tell it,” Niamh nodded, a huge smile pasted across her face. She shrugged, “I could take you up there later today if you want, if you know, you’re not too busy or anything…” Her eyes flicked between Willow and Tara, who looked at one another and thought exactly the same thing at the same time.

“That’s really nice of you Niamh…” Tara began.

“…but we’re just going to explore by ourselves today.” Willow finished. Seeing the downcast turn of the other girl’s mouth, she put on a bright smile and sat up straight in her chair, “Maybe tomorrow? I hear your dad does boat trips?”

“Oh right!” Niamh’s grin returned and she nodded enthusiastically, “He does, yes. I could organise something…come with you if you want.”

“Thanks Niamh,” Tara smiled graciously.

“Well I’d better get back to the kitchen,” Niamh said, flushing bright red with happiness, “Mum’s a real dragon when she wants to be, but I’ll see you later, ok?”

Willow nodded firmly and waited until Niamh was out of sight before slumping down in her chair, puffing out her cheeks and shaking her head. Tara couldn’t help giggling and pushed the rack of toast over to her girlfriend.

“So is it just me or is she like, into us or something?” Willow grumbled, smearing butter across the still warm surface of the toast and shoving it into her mouth, chewing down hard.

“Sweetie, you have to admit, we’re probably the most glamorous thing she’s got right now,” Tara laughed, looking across at Willow and receiving a thin smile in return. “Besides, who wouldn’t be into you? You’re adorable.”

Willow’s eyes crinkled in response and she waved her toast around in the air as she spoke. “You make me that way,” she said softly, sharing a brief moment of connection with the blonde before Tara looked away, breaking the gaze. “So, you wanna go to the castle?” she asked, still trying to maintain the casual and happy air they were so desperately aiming for.

“Sure,” Tara nodded, “sounds good to me. Who knows, maybe we’ll get to see this ghost Niamh was talking about.”

“Ugh,” Willow pulled a face and shrugged, “I think I’ve got enough ghosts hanging around me right now without one more.” She looked at the way Tara’s eyes glazed suddenly, the shield beginning to drop, and hastily added, “But the more the merrier, right?” As Tara smiled slowly in reply, Willow felt her heart slow down to a less panicked rhythm. Saved by the skin of your teeth, Rosenberg, she told herself. Only just.



The day had started promisingly, with a bright disc of sun climbing the sky as the two girls left the hotel. They had dressed for walking, both wearing a pair of jeans and t-shirts. Willow’s t-shirt had the picture of the cute kitty on it that Tara loved; she knew it was the redhead’s way of trying to please her, and she smiled inwardly at the little ways in which Willow always did. Following her girlfriend up the steep path towards the castle, she felt the summer breeze caressing her hair, lifting her spirits somewhat. Maybe she could be allowed to love Willow; maybe it was going to be all right. This was probably just a transitional period, or whatever it was the pundits called it. The need to love and be loved was tearing at her insides, crying out for Willow’s touch and nearness. But being with her outside, with the sun on their faces and the warm air all around them, it was delicious enough to remind her that there was life outside of Sunnydale. And it was a good life, too.

When they reached the castle grounds, they entered through a huge wrought iron gate, following the gravel path that crunched comfortingly underneath their feet. The gardens were impressive; flowerbeds that were alive with vibrant colours and carefully tended plants. The pathway led round to where the castle stood, half ruined over the years, but still intact in a couple of places. Willow stopped, placing her palm over the rough stone wall that loomed up before them. Raising her head, she followed the wall up to where the jagged edges reached for the sky, the dark brick incongruous against the blue that stretched as far as the eye could see.

“The family still owns this place,” Tara read aloud from a little guide book she pulled out of her rucksack, “It’s over eight hundred years old. It says here it’s probably the oldest family home in Ireland.”

“It’s wonderful,” Willow sighed, her gaze travelling along the wall to where the main entrance still stood. Looking back at Tara, she nodded towards the guidebook. “What does it say about the ghost?”

“Um…” Tara flicked over a couple of pages and then tapped at the book with her finger, “Here it is, Grace O’Malley was a pirate queen who came here one night asking for food. When the family refused, she kidnapped their daughter by the dark of the moon and carried her off to sea, never to be heard from again. Since that night, the front gate is always left open and a place is set at the dining table for her return. But legend says her ghost still haunts the place.” She looked up at Willow, her eyes widening sadly, “Poor Grace, always coming back to the people who turned her away.”

“Poor Grace?” Willow began walking along the path the main entrance, Tara right behind her. “She kidnapped someone! And what’s the point of haunting a place that has such bad memories for you, you know, sometimes I just don’t understand ghosts,” she grumbled, eliciting a grin from Tara.

“I don’t think ghosts get much choice about where they haunt. Besides, there’s always some reason why they return. I bet Grace wants to resolve something and feels that she just can’t. That’s why her spirit can’t rest.” Tara explained, linking her arm through Willow’s as they walked over the threshold, immediately plunged into darkness.

Willow pulled Tara closer to her, enjoying the contact that had been given so freely. Physical intimacy between them had been so hard after Buffy’s death, particularly with her having to patrol at night. She often thought that Tara came with her on patrol just so they could be together. But this was nice, she thought, squeezing Tara’s arm with her own, pressing it into her body, and right now, she’d take whatever she could get.

Their footsteps echoed on the tiled floor as they looked around the room they had entered. It was more of a hallway actually, they figured, their eyes passing over a few glass cases with artefacts inside. The whole room had been decked out in what seemed like the cast offs of a jumble sale, with miscellaneous pieces of armour, shields sporting what they assumed was the family crest and several throne like chairs pushed back against the wall.

Willow turned to Tara, raising her eyebrows mysteriously, “Oooh spooky,” she giggled.

Tara couldn’t help giggling in reply, their voices the only sounds in the hallway. As their eyes grew accustomed to the relative darkness, they began looking more closely at the pictures on the wall and the glass cases. Most of it was the usual historical events type of stuff; Tara felt herself becoming a little bored by it all, although Willow was peering down at objects and moving her lips as she read the informative plates underneath.

When she saw the picture, Tara stopped. For some reason, she was drawn to the figure, more than any of the others she had already seen. The picture was a hand drawn sketch, more like a template than anything else. But the figure that struck a pose in it demanded her attention. The woman stood with her feet apart, the trousers that she wore billowing wide over slim ankles and what looked like animal skin shoes. Her white shirt was loose cut and had ruffles at the cuffs and collar, making her seem elaborately dressed. She wore long thick gloves that formed her hands into large, inhuman appendages, grasping a large sword that Tara realised was a cutlass. Her head was lifted; the blade of the sword level with her eyes, and thick black curly hair swirled around a delicate face with piercing blue eyes.

“Is that her?” Willow looked over Tara’s shoulder, their reflections in the glass case casting shadow down onto the sketch.

“I guess,” Tara shrugged, “Yeah, look, Grace O’Malley,” she pointed at the inscription below the picture.

“She’s cute, although I bet she didn’t really look like that. I mean, it’s always the artists impression in these kinds of things.” Willow tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear and leant her head on Tara’s shoulder.

Tara half-smiled, unable to draw her eyes away from the imposing figure in the picture. “Well I think the idea of a pirate queen is romantic. I mean, look, no eye patch, no wooden leg. She’s kind of impressive, don’t you think?”

Willow took a step backwards and looked carefully at her girlfriend, a lopsided smile crossing her lips. “Honey, please don’t tell me you’re going to go all piratey on me…cuz you know, that kind of dress is so eighties,” she crossed her arms across her chest.

“Right, like you wouldn’t fall for me if I was a pirate queen, holding you hostage on my ship out in the bay,” Tara smirked, waving her hand off in the direction of what she hoped was Howth harbour. She moved around Willow and lightly put an arm around her neck, pulling her back against her own body. Holding her other hand up to her face, she covered one eye and swivelled Willow round to look at her, hopping madly on one leg. “Avast me hearties!” she attempted what was really quite a poor impression of a pirate, whilst Willow looked back at her, bemused, a little embarrassed but most of all trying to contain her laughter.

“Uh…Tara honey, I know you think it’s romantic and all but – “

“Aye, ‘tis romantic me lover…you be mine now,” Tara hopped just one time too many and stumbled, falling forward into Willow’s arms. The redhead dissolved into laughter as Tara flushed a bright red in embarrassment and leant against her. “I guess I don’t make such a good pirate queen after all,” she mumbled, as she straightened up and looked into Willow’s eyes.

“Oh I don’t know,” Willow said softly, “you’re still pretty romantic, and I am yours anyway, so that’s kind of a moot point, don’t you think?”

Tara’s hand slid around Willow’s neck and she looked shyly up into the redhead’s green eyes, her pupils wide and deep in the dark of the room. Her fingers reached up to play with the silky strands of red hair that tickled against her hands. Willow blinked once, slowly, her feline features narrowing so that her eyes almost gleamed in the dim light. “Are you really? Mine, I mean?” Tara asked softly.

“Always,” Willow answered gently, touching her lips briefly against Tara’s, the lightest of kisses, the softest of touches. “Pirate queen or no pirate queen,” she smirked, letting go of Tara.

“Grrr,” Tara held up her hands in a mock stance of aggression, and then chased a squealing Willow out of the hallway into the bright sunlight outside.



Part 9

By the time the two girls reached their hotel room they were breathless and not a little giddy. They had narrowly escaped another meeting with Niamh on their return from the castle, and had raced up the stairs to their room to avoid her attentions. As Willow had explained to Tara on the way home, it wasn’t that she didn’t like Niamh, it was just that she didn’t need some teenager hanging round them right now. Her patience was at an all time low and she just needed some peace and quiet. Tara had nodded glumly; she was more than aware of just how impatient Willow could be, caught in the wrong mood at the wrong time.

But so far the day had been glorious, the weather had held, even with the turn of the tide, and they had walked along the promenade, eating ice cream and taking in the fresh sea air. Willow had even ventured so far as to go down onto the shale beach, informing Tara that there was a glut of historic quartzite just lying around. She promised to come back down here and bring her notepad with her, as she was sure there would be fossils somewhere around the high tide mark. Tara’s love of history summoned up at least a little enthusiasm, although for herself, she promised a return visit to the ice-cream parlour, as she licked the last of the icy coolness from her lips.

Entering their room, Tara closed the door and leant against it, letting out a heavy sigh of laughter. Willow bent over, dropping her rucksack on to her bed and flashed a grin at the blonde.

“Narrow escape,” she panted, pushing at her hair.

“Willow, don’t…she’s nice, if a little insistent, but nice, you know? I feel sorry for her,” Tara spoke with a reprove she didn’t really feel, but did indeed feel some kind of empathy for Niamh, stuck out here all alone at her age. She knew only too well how alienating that could feel.

“Oh my Tara,” Willow approached her and ran a hand down Tara’s face, “Always so kind to those in need.”

“Well Niamh is probably lonely; maybe she needs all the excitement she can get,” Tara said, trying to ignore the simple pleasures running up and down her spine from Willow’s touch.

“Hmm, maybe,” Willow said, concentrating on a spot just below Tara’s ear, pushing back the blonde hair to brush her fingertips against it. She watched as Tara closed her eyes, leaning back further against the door, her palms spreading out flat on the wooden surface.

“If you keep on doing that, things are probably going to get a bit exciting for me too,” Tara murmured, a faint smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

Willow removed her hand and retreated to her own bed. “Sorry,” she blushed, sitting down and placing her hands into her lap.

Tara’s eyes flew open in surprise and confusion; looking over at Willow she shook her head and blinked several times. “Willow?” she questioned, needing the door for further support as her legs had suddenly started to quiver.

The redhead looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together and took in several deep breaths before speaking, as though it was a great effort to do so. “I thought…you know, separate beds. I thought you didn’t want to…” she shrugged, not making eye contact with her girlfriend. The tension in the room and between them raised a notch, and they both felt it.

“Of course I do!” Tara exclaimed, moving forward, then thinking better of it, her feet performing a tentative dance that led her back to the door again. “How can you even think that? Of course I want to be with you.”

“It’s just that, we haven’t…not since Buffy,” Willow blinked back the tears and shook her head, swallowing loudly, “we haven’t made love for so long Tara, I thought you didn’t want to.” Her voice stopped abruptly as she closed her eyes, sniffing loudly then sitting upright. “But that’s okay,” she said in a firmer voice, “if you don’t want to that’s okay.”

Tara took a step forward, her bravery growing, as was her candour. The niggle of anger inside her chest rose like acid into her throat. “Willow, you were the one who didn’t want to this morning, remember? It’s not me. I want you all the time; it’s you that doesn’t want me. And here I am,” she finally broke, her voice filling with tears that splashed angry and hot from her eyes, “just waiting for you to give me one indication that you still need me that way.” She ran a hand through her hair and folded her arms in front of her, “It’s so hard to be near you and not want you like that. And to know that you don’t want me like that. But I still l-l-love you Willow, I always will,” she finished, biting down hard on her lip. Her eyes met Willow’s for a brief moment, two pools of green that were wide and shocked at her outburst, before she threw herself down on her bed, her back turned to the startled redhead.

A second later, a hand crept onto her shoulder. Tara almost flinched away from it, but remained motionless as the hand pulled at her, turning her over onto her back. Willow’s face hovered over hers, lines of pain and distress drawn over her pale features. A single tear rolled down her cheek from the corner of her eye and she reached forward, brushing the wetness from Tara’s own eyes with the tip of her finger, rubbing it against her thumb slowly.

“I love you Tara,” she whispered, her voice broken with the sobs that lay heavy on her chest, “but I don’t know what’s happening to me.” She gave another cry, this time a sound of pure anguish that ripped into Tara like a knife blade, cutting her deeply.

Tara slowly put her arms around the redhead and pulled her close, the two of them lying on the one bed, wrapped up in one another, the only sound for many minutes their tear-filled breathing.

Smoothing her hand up Willow’s back, Tara pushed at the silken hair on the nape of the redhead’s neck, pushing her fingers upwards, to cup Willow’s skull in her hand. Pressing her fingers in slightly, she let them slide around Willow’s head before moving them back down again, all the way down her back almost to her waist. Then she began the process again, taking her time, moving ever so slowly, feeling her lover sniffle and cry freely against her neck.

Lifting her head, Willow gazed down at Tara’s tear-streaked face, her eyes so trusting, so full of love. The guilt she often felt when she looked at her girlfriend once more flooded her senses, reminding her of her own shortcomings. The guilt wasn’t just about Tara, she knew that; she was carrying everyone else’s guilt around with her like heavy baggage, and it was slowing her down, dulling all of her senses, her instincts, her emotions. For a long moment, she looked into Tara’s eyes, so deep that it was as though she could reach the bottom of her soul with one gaze. It pulled her in, enveloped her in something greater than herself, and for a second she felt the spark that had been dead for so long.

Leaning down, Willow realised that she was still crying, as was Tara, and she placed her lips against Tara’s full mouth, pressing them down hard. The other girl responded, a tiny sigh escaping the base of her throat, and her hand moved underneath Willow’s shirt to spread out on the soft skin she felt there. Shifting her position, Willow put one leg over Tara’s, straddling the jean clad limb with her own body, and deepened the kiss.

Tara’s mouth opened to receive Willow’s tongue, and both girls gasped as they kissed one another, increasing in intensity all the time. Closing her eyes, Willow felt the tears in them push down her cheeks, falling onto Tara’s skin, mingling with the wetness there already. She reached up with one hand and squeezed Tara’s breast through her shirt, her fingers hard and unrepentant, making the other girl stiffen for a second before she arched her back and pushed upwards into Willow’s grasp.

“Tara…” Willow whispered against the other girl’s mouth, her right hand flailing on the bed to find purchase for the weight of her own body. She bent her head down again and ground her mouth against Tara’s feeling their teeth and lips clash together in a hard kiss.

Tara’s fingers dug into Willow’s back, her nails raking up and down, not caring if they broke the skin or not. The blonde lost herself momentarily, pushing upwards with her hips, feeling Willow’s leg between her thighs and clutching at it desperately. The anger hadn’t dissipated, it had only turned itself to passion, although this was a passion that enslaved them, restricted them, forced their movements and actions right now in this minute. And it seemed as though this was the final minute they had; all else was pushed aside in the desperation and fear that increased their contact.

Breaking the kiss, Willow looked down at Tara, her face flushed and breathless. Her teeth clenched together and she knew this wasn’t right, it shouldn’t be like this, but she could hardly stop herself. Tara’s left hand smoothed itself up around her body and she quickly grabbed it in her right hand, pinning it down onto the bed near Tara’s head, leaning her weight up on her right arm. The blue eyes flickered open for a second before Willow jammed her mouth back down upon Tara’s again, hard and with intent.

The redhead’s hips began to move on Tara’s thigh, whilst her left hand quickly moved down to struggle with the girl’s jeans, undoing the button with numbed movements and yanking the zipper down firmly, before sliding her fingers inside. Tara moaned and began to breathe heavily against Willow’s unrelenting kiss, arching her back once more and pushing against the fingers that were now moving inside her. Willow’s fingers, touching her, coaxing her, making her whole body tremble in response.

Reaching up with her right hand, Tara grasped a handful of Willow’s hair and roughly pulled her head away, breaking the kiss once again. Her jaw jutting out, Tara felt fresh tears fall upon her face from Willow’s eyes and tried to ignore the obvious pain that was searing across the other girl’s face. Shaking her head, Tara tried to talk, tried to say something, anything, but found that the movement of Willow’s fingers inside her was taking her to the point from which she knew there was no return. And she was powerless to stop it. All she could do was look in wonderment at the redhead’s face, screwed up in concentration and emotion as she too, began to rub herself harder on Tara’s thigh.

Willow’s grasp on Tara’s hand tightened, so tight that it felt like they were crushing one another, or at least, trying to. Like some crazy endurance test, there was no sound at all apart from their breathing, quickening with each thrust, each rhythmic movement. Faster, ever faster, a bead of sweat appeared on Willow’s forehead as she shut her eyes tightly and pressed down hard with her hips, at the same time thrusting deeply up inside Tara.

The throbbing in her head pulled Tara’s eyes closed for the second before she felt her orgasm rip through her body like an invasive involuntary movement. Shuddering, she gave herself to it only briefly before Willow too, froze on top of her and let out a long, broken breath that sighed its way down to where Tara lay, stunned and empty.

Neither of them spoke. Willow slowly removed her hand from Tara’s jeans and shifted her position, letting go of the blonde’s hand and sitting on the side of the bed. She leant forward, her hair hanging down over her face and bowed her head, whether in sated desire or shame, Tara wasn’t sure.

Leaning up onto her elbows, Tara fumbled with the fastenings on her jeans and then reached out a hand towards Willow, her fingers barely touching the other girl’s shoulder before she flinched away, letting out a low cry.

“Please Tara, no.” Willow said, her voice full of tears once more.

Tara froze, her hand in midair, feeling the emotion flood its way up from her stomach to her throat, icing all the way up to her head, throbbing and dizzy as it was. The tears came so easily then, and she let herself shed them, moving as through a mist as she scrambled off the bed, making for the door and leaving the room as fast as she could.



It was probably way past dinnertime, Tara thought suddenly as she reached the end of the huge stone wall protecting the harbour and sat down. The sun was hiding behind clouds that had appeared at some point during the last hour or so. She wasn’t sure exactly how long she had been out here, but she had needed the fresh air and the wind in her face to remind herself that she was still here, still alive.

Her mind tried to block out the last image she had of Willow, sitting crumpled and defeated on the edge of her bed. How terribly broken the redhead had seemed, Tara thought, frowning, feeling tears spring afresh to her already reddened eyes. She sniffed and wiped at them with the heel of her hand. Willow’s touch had always made her feel so a part of this world, encapsulating her own energy and that of her lover. But that…what they had done was just sex, nothing more. No magick. Nothing. She wondered to herself when had it become so difficult to communicate with the only person she had ever truly loved in her whole life.

Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her and stared down at the foam crashing against the side of the stone wall. In all her moments of despair, Willow had always been there, to bring her back. And now the redhead was caught up in that despair too, who was going to save them both?

“If you’re thinking of jumping, I wouldn’t. The tide’s going out and all you’ll do is end up fish bait. Not what I’d call a fitting end for a witch like you,” a voice behind her made her spin around, her mouth open in shock. As her eyes registered the figure standing a few feet away, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

“Hey Tara,” Faith said, shoving her hands into the pockets of her trousers, “What’s up?”



Part 10

“Faith?” Tara’s face was an almost perfect picture of confusion as she stumbled forward a couple of paces, and then caught herself, stopping abruptly. She let her gaze wash over the dark Slayer in front of her, taking in the tired eyes, the pale face and slightly off kilter cocky stance that Faith used to do so well. Something’s changed, Tara thought to herself. And then it hit her with alarming clarity. She knows…about Buffy, she knows. God, poor Faith, she thought, her heart lurching in sympathy with the other girl. She took another couple of steps forward. “Is it really you?” she asked, her voice almost snatched away by the wind that was sweeping around the bay, increasing in force as dark clouds gathered above her head.

“Of course it’s me,” Faith held out her arms and thrust her hips forward, “Who were you expecting, the tooth fairy?” She spoke without unkindness, seemingly only to make polite conversation and avoid the subject she was sure Tara was going to bring up sooner or later. Faith preferred it to be later. She’d had enough crying over the past few weeks to last her a lifetime. In fact, she mused, she’d probably cried more over the past few weeks than she’d ever done in her whole life. Funny that, how people could just get to you. And then they were gone. She sighed inwardly, story of her whole freakin’ life.

“So what’s going on with you and Red?” she finally ventured, guessing from Tara’s red eyes and white face that something upsetting had happened. Tara took another couple of steps towards her, and then gasped her name again, throwing herself into Faith’s arms.

At first, Faith flinched from the contact, unfamiliar as she was to touching people. Touching anyone. But the sobbing witch against her shoulder melted her frosty veneer and in an instant she had her arms around Tara and was patting her back in what she hoped was a comforting manner.

When Tara finally drew back, Faith held her by the shoulders and smiled into her face, flicking her hair back against the wind that grabbed it, pushing it forwards. “You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?” she asked gently, feeling Tara’s body shudder with sobs that reached inside the Slayer and made her own throat prick with tears.

“Oh Faith, it’s terrible. It’s just..it’s all gone bad. And I can’t help her!” Tara tried to talk through her tears but failed miserably, her words coming out all broken and scattered. She hung her head and shivered, despite herself.

“Okay, okay…come on, we have to get you inside. It’s getting kinda stormy out here,” Faith squinted up at the sky, taking in the thickening clouds and the dull blackness that was blotting out the pale blue sky above them. “Jeez Tara, you’re freezing, and you’re crying all over my new jacket,” she grinned at the witch, eliciting a watery smile in response. “That’s better,” she announced, walking back down the stone wall with the other girl, towards the village. “How about we go find that girl of yours and have a reunion?”

“Willow’s not doing so well,” Tara sniffed, wondering if she’d just made the understatement of the year. She rubbed at her eyes and sighed loudly, loud enough to be heard above the wind that was now whooshing around the two of them, snatching at their hair and clothing with cold fingers.

“Tell me about it,” Faith muttered, her eyes catching Tara’s. The other girl smiled in sympathy and reached down to gently clasp Faith’s hand in her own cold one. “I always thought I’d be prepared, you know, for…” Faith trailed off and shook her head angrily, clenching her teeth together as the emotion threatened to rise once more to her eyes.

“None of us were, Faith.” Tara breathed deeply and closed her eyes momentarily. “Nobody was prepared. How can you be?” She looked across to the Slayer and found only sorrow floating in those deep brown eyes. Faith gazed at her for a moment before shaking her head; shrugging and resuming the walk back to the village. Sometimes, thought Tara, words were redundant and pointless, reducing everything to a simple feeling. Loss.



The hotel seemed oven warm to a shivering Tara as she led Faith to her room, acting like she was embarking on a mission of extreme subterfuge; getting past the reception without Mrs Kelly or Niamh spotting them. They were lucky this time though, as the hotel foyer seemed quite deserted. Thankful for the warm air drifting through the corridors, Tara grasped the handle to their room and paused, looking back at Faith behind her.

“What?” Faith asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Tara bit her lip and thought carefully for a moment. Then she changed her mind. Faith was probably the one person Willow could benefit from seeing right now. Having someone else there would make this a little less awkward, she hoped. Or maybe a little more awkward. Or…she wasn’t sure what to expect at all once she opened the door.

“We standin’ out here all night then?” Faith hissed, close to her ear, alerting Tara out of her reverie.

Tara turned the handle and opened the door, her eyes sweeping the room immediately for Willow. The redhead had been sitting on her bed with her back to the doorway, but when she heard the wooden door creak open, she swung around, her eyes expectant and wide, rimmed red with crying. When her eyes met Tara’s they stared at one another for what seemed like a long time, although in actuality it was mere seconds. Then, moving from the bed, Willow ran across the room and hurled herself into Tara’s arms, the blonde girl holding her tightly against her. Neither girl spoke, just revelled in their closeness that both wanted and needed at that precise moment.

With Willow against her, Tara felt a warmth seep up from her feet, moving slowly up her body until it gently cradled her heart, bringing back some of the feeling she had thought she would never find again. Feeling Willow’s breath against her neck, the slight hands moving on her back, she closed her eyes, enjoying it briefly, all too briefly, before she remembered how it had been before she had run down to the shoreline.

Faith leaned against the doorframe, watching them. An image flashed into her head of waking up next to a blonde Slayer who had smiled at her almost before opening her eyes. She remembered that instinctual closeness they had shared for so long before either of them had known what it meant. All this and more, she saw when she looked at the simplicity of the two witches in an embrace.

Willow raised her head from Tara’s shoulder and looked at Faith, standing in the doorway, her eyes far away and so sad that it pierced the redhead’s heart with pain for her. As the Slayer brought her gaze round to meet Willow’s, the redhead did the only thing she felt she could. She held out her hand to Faith, inviting her in.



Part 11

Faith crossed her legs beneath her and settled back against the wall of the room, watching in some surprise and curiosity at the way that Willow and Tara sat on the same bed, but didn’t touch one another at all. For a second she pondered asking them what was going on; usually they were all over one another, but she wasn’t given a chance as Willow leant forward from her seat on the end of the bed.

“Faith, what are you doing here? This isn’t some coincidence is it? I mean, that’s just really silly…and how did you get here? Who paid for your journey? Is it like, Watcher’s Council business, I mean, are you the Slayer now Buffy’s-” the redhead stopped abruptly, the light in her eyes at seeing Faith fading away, a cloud of memory covering it and blotting it out completely. She leant her hands, previously waving around as she talked, down onto her knees and fell quiet.

Faith looked at Willow’s sudden slump into the past, and at the way Tara looked painfully at her, from her seat further up the bed, cross-legged and tense. Flicking her gaze back to Willow she let out a loud laugh that brought a pair of green eyes back to rest on her face.

“Jeez Red, wanna give me a chance to take a breath first? Tell you what, write all your questions down and we’ll have a test,” she winked over at Willow, watching in gratification as the girl’s lips curved in a soft smile, her eyes glowing thankfully.

“Well, you have to admit, you’re the last person we expected to see here,” Willow said, her voice more calm and lower now.

“I guess,” Faith shrugged, pulling her denim jacket off her shoulders and pushing it down behind her. “I kinda wanted to see you in Sunnydale but Giles said you’d gone away.”

Tara rested her hands on her knees, looking carefully at Willow, who was now moving backwards on the bed, relaxing inch by careful inch. “After our holiday in England last year we decided to see what Ireland is like,” the blonde ventured.

Faith nodded, “Right, and you know what? It’s kinda like England, only greener, and with more Irish people.” She gave them her lopsided grin and heard a tiny sound of laughter from the redhead. Shaking her head, she leant forwards, her hair falling around her face. “Actually, Giles kinda said he wasn’t sure if you were going back to Sunnydale, so that’s why I came here. Mountain to Mohammed, although I never saw myself as a mountain,” she cocked her head onto one side, musing for a second. “So,” she looked up, her eyes meeting Willow’s in an almost challenge, “are you?”

“Am I what?” Willow’s voice held a wary tone as she held Faith’s gaze.

“Are you coming back to Sunnydale?”

Willow pressed her lips together and finally looked away from Faith’s piercing gaze. She’d thought long and hard about this, still not coming up with an answer. The hellmouth; she wondered if it would ever truly leave her life. She remembered the day when she had pledged herself to Buffy, to fighting the good fight, to trying to save the world. ‘I kinda love you’ the Slayer had said, her eyes shining at the redhead. The sound the leaves made as Buffy had launched herself at Willow, the two of them falling giggling to the ground, was as fresh in her ears as though it were yesterday.

Smiling sadly to herself, Willow recalled the Slayer on that night, that awful night. ‘You’re my big gun’ she had said. Her oldest, and best friend. Forever. Glancing back at Faith, she saw the other Slayer, eyebrows raised, waiting for a response. The bond she had formed with Faith was beginning to ache, as she realised here in front of her was another person she had become attached to. Another person to lose in a meaningless battle that was never ending. It was a battle she was tired of fighting.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, seeing Faith puff out her cheeks and shake her head as she heard Willow’s response.

“Look Red,” Faith’s voice was low and carried a threatening plea with it, “you can’t just give up on everything. On everyone. There are people there who care about you.”

“I have all the people I need, with Tara. She cares about me.”

“Yeah? Well take a look at her then, see how red her eyes are from cryin’ all the time. Over you! Buffy’s gone, Willow. She’s dead and nothing you or I can do will change that.” Faith dropped her eyes, taking a moment to hear her own words, wishing she didn’t have to say them.

Willow tensed at the mention of Buffy’s death, her senses immediately trying to tell her it wasn’t true, whilst rationality screamed that it was. “So what’s the point of doing anything at all then?” she said, her face taut and strained. “If death is what happens, what’s the point of it all? Why did she have to die? What for?” Her voice stopped, strangled in her throat and she looked at Faith, wanting answers, wanting solace.

“Because that’s our life. That’s what Slayers do. Willow, there was a time when I felt invincible, like nothing or nobody could hurt me. But remember, you told me that I’d lost the best friend I ever had.” Faith glanced across at the redhead, watching the green eyes recall that awful night when the dark Slayer had held a knife to her throat, had punched her, threatened her, intimidated her. And still the redhead had hit home with her words. Such a long time ago, thought Faith to herself, so much has happened since then.

“I’ve been without hope for so long, Willow, and you guys gave it back to me,” Faith cast her glance over Willow and Tara, half smiling at other times, happier memories. “When I found Buffy again she reminded me why I’m here, why we’re all here. I can’t give up on that now,” her voice dropped even more as she looked down at her legs, ashamed of the tears that pricked her eyes. “I have to carry on, for her, for all of you,” Faith looked up at Willow, her face awash with tears that trickled down her cheeks. Annoyed at herself, she brushed them away, “You can’t give up on the people that love you the most, Red. Buffy never did.”

“But I’m not strong like her,” Willow’s voice faltered over the sorrow that choked her words, “I’m not sure if I can…”

Faith got up from the floor and walked over to where the redhead sat on the bed, putting her hand onto the slight shoulder in front of her and letting the warmth of her hand make contact with the other girl. Squeezing slightly, she rubbed at her eyes and felt the other girl’s hand move up to cover her own.

“Sure you can, Red,” she said softly, “Buffy knew that. I know that. You’re so strong, even without her.”

Willow looked up at Faith, her own eyes shining with pain and regret. “I miss her so much, Faith,” she whispered.

The dark Slayer cried openly for one of the first times in her life, all her pain, all her sorrow, all her missed opportunities facing her bleakly now. The flicker of hope she had always held for her and Buffy had been extinguished, like a flame drenched with the mourning of so many wasted minutes. As the tears stung her eyes and fell down her cheeks, Faith nodded. “Yeah, me too,” she sobbed.



By the time Faith made her way down the stairs, it was getting dark outside, the dusk falling over the village like a deep purple blanket. She had reached the foyer and was just about to open the heavy front door to the hotel when a rustling behind her halted her tracks. Turning, she saw a young dark haired girl emerge from the office behind the reception counter, and eye her with interest. Feeling the other girl’s eyes travel up and down her body, Faith folded her arms, hearing her leather trousers creak unnervingly in the relative silence of the foyer.

“Hello?” the girl frowned slightly, as though unable to identify who, or what, Faith was.

“Hello,” Faith answered, her face blank and expressionless.

The girl blushed, and tried again. “I’m Niamh, can I help you?” She came out from behind the counter and stood in front of Faith, her plain clothes accentuating her innocence even more.

“Nope, thanks anyway though. I was just visiting some friends.” Faith said easily. Pretty girl, she thought, then chastised herself guiltily for having anything but sadness running through her head. But her eyes swept up and down Niamh appreciatively all the same, filing away the feeling for later, when she could maybe enjoy it more.

“Willow and Tara? Are you their friend?” Niamh gasped, obviously impressed to hear another American accent in her midst.

“Uh…yeah,” Faith nodded.

“I really like them,” Niamh gushed, her face animated by a sweet smile and her eyes flicking once again to Faith’s leather pants, “You’re American too!”

“Last time I looked, yeah,” Faith grinned, despite herself.

“Cool trousers,” Niamh shifted from foot to foot, apparently embarrassed by Faith’s no nonsense nature, almost afraid to look at the Slayer, but finding that she couldn’t help do anything but.

“Thanks. I like ‘em.”

“Are you staying in Howth too?”

Faith nodded curtly, “Yeah, some place down the street. Nice place. I mean,” she reached up and shoved her hair back before pushing her hands into her pockets, “nothin’ a McDonalds couldn’t cure but, you know, nice all the same.”

Niamh rolled her eyes; “Tell me about it,” she sighed. “It’s so boring here. Nothing ever happens. Not like in America I bet,” she clasped her hands together, “Is it exciting, you know, like it looks on the TV?”

Faith stifled a giggle and pressed her lips together before answering. “Oh yeah, just like on TV.” She watched in amusement as Niamh practically jumped up and down with delight, before she shrugged. “Well I guess I’d better…” she gestured towards the door.

“Oh! Right! Well, do come back, I told Willow and Tara that I’d take them out somewhere if they wanted to and you could come too if you wanted to…” Niamh trailed off, embarrassment flooding her face, “If you wanted to, that is.”

“Sure,” Faith said curtly, reaching for the door. “See you around Niamh.”

As the Slayer left, Niamh gazed after her with something like stars floating through her eyes. “I hope so,” she sighed to herself, “I really hope so.”



At least it put a smile on her face, Faith thought, as she followed the dimly lit road back to her own hotel, back near the station. Sure, some cute Irish chick is impressed by your trousers and you go right back to being Faith. She sighed, wondering when it was going to be easier for her to stop slipping back into that persona she had built up through many years of hardship and suffering. Because nobody knew the real her; well, she stopped herself, one person had and that person was gone. And all that was left of the real Faith, the person she wanted to be, was a huge gaping hole. A big fat nothin’, she thought ruefully.

She kicked angrily at a stone in the road with her boot, hearing it skitter along the concrete surface until it came to rest somewhere in the grass verge. Damn you B! she thought, clenching her fists by the sides of her body. Going off and leaving me when I needed you the most. What the fuck for? Didn’t make anyone happier, that was for sure, she thought, remembering Willow’s tearful farewell when she had left the hotel.

There had been a moment, when she had first heard about Buffy’s death, that she wanted to go and do something stupid. In the week when she’d left the hotel, she only remembered the hurting, the killing. She’d gone and sought demons out, offing them before they had even had a chance to react to her presence. She’d crawled through sewers, gone down holes, tried to get into the dirtiest, most unpleasant places she had ever come across. Taking it out on the demon population of LA had been some kind of catharsis, at least, she supposed. Until the night when she had realised that this battle would never end; she’d never kill all the demons, never get rid of all the evil. And that was why she was here, to balance it out. Buffy had always said that fighting evil was something she had to do, because without her, what hope did anyone have?

Faith pushed at her hair again, hearing the rumble of thunder offshore prickle at her back. Without Buffy there had felt like no hope at all. But she knew in her heart of hearts, that being the Slayer was a risk every minute of every day. If anything, Buffy had taught her that what they did, what they all did, mattered in the greater scheme of things. And every day the differences they made counted for something. Faith sighed, they had to. Otherwise, without believing that, what was the whole point of this gift she had? She hoped that Willow would come to feel that way too.

The sky cracked behind her, making her jump slightly, as thunder boomed loudly in her ears. Frowning, she looked up, towards the looming hill over the village. The ruined castle stood out, jagged against the swirling blackness, the turrets that had once stood proud now half fallen against the night sky. A flash of lightning lit up the shape momentarily and Faith squinted, her eyes drawn to something that looked like…no, she shook her head. No fool would be mad enough to be up there as a storm was coming in. She stood for a minute, gazing upwards, hoping that her eyes were playing tricks on her. But she knew that Slayer-vision rarely lied and she was sure she’d just seen someone perched aloft the castle wall.

As the lightning flickered again, a thread of pure white chasing itself down the deep blanket of night, Faith felt her heart pound suddenly in her chest. There was someone up there! A figure, standing on the top of the castle wall, one hand resting on the brick, the other carrying something that looked like a sword.

Putting herself into motion, Faith scrambled towards the pathway that led up to the castle, feeling the adrenalin pump into her limbs, carrying her easily up to the wrought iron gate. It had started raining now, and she heard, rather than felt, her boots splashing down in the wet ground.

By the time she got to the gate, her hair was plastered against her face and she pushed it back, wet and heavy, feeling it drip down the neck of her jacket, which was itself now soaked. This better be good, she thought ruefully, her eyes sweeping the castle, lit infrequently by the lightning that was now interspersed with a throaty clash of thunder.

Walking over the wet gravel path, Faith never took her eyes from the spot where she had seen the figure. Or thought she had seen it. The castle was clearly deserted. Jogging, she ran all the way round the monument, checking up to the top in case they appeared again. Nobody should be out on a night like this, she thought, not even insane people with swords. A tiny chord of panic sounded in her chest as she realised that she was the only person up at the castle. The only one. So where the hell was the freak with the metal?

Taking one last glance up at the castle wall, she shook her head slowly. Maybe it had been a trick of the light or something. Imaginings, most likely. She’d spent so long not looking for people to help, that now she was seeing them everywhere she turned, she guessed. Damn you Buffy, she thought for the second time that evening, as she turned to follow the pathway down to the road.



Tara pulled the curtains across the window and turned to see Willow in her own bed. The redhead had stopped crying some minutes ago, but was lying covered in the blankets, her face woeful and tear stained. The green eyes hadn’t left Tara once since Faith had gone back to her own hotel. In fact, Tara thought, wincing against the thunder that rattled the windowpane, anyone would think that Willow was looking at her for the first time, so intent was her gaze.

She sat down on her own bed, and pulled off her clothes, finally sitting in her underwear. She rubbed her palms onto her thighs, still feeling a little bit chilled from the wind outside, and looked across to where Willow lay.

“It was good to see Faith,” she said simply.

Willow nodded, her eyes travelling up and down the length of Tara’s body, making the blonde feel not a little self-conscious. “Uh huh,” she said.

“She’s right you know,” Tara dropped her head onto her chest as she reached behind her to undo her bra, taking it off and dropping it onto the floor in front of her.

“About what?” Willow pushed the blankets down a little, lifting her chin up over the edge of them.

“About going back to Sunnydale,” Tara stated, grabbing her oversized t-shirt from underneath her pillow and pulling it on over her head. She pulled her hair out of the neck and let it fall down her back.

Willow sighed. “I know she is. I know that. But Tara…we could be happy and not live there,” her voice took on a plaintive tone.

“And as long as you keep avoiding Sunnydale you keep avoiding what happened there.” The blonde’s voice rang true and Willow shuddered, knowing she was right. “But,” Tara continued, pulling back the covers of her own bed, “you have to figure out what you want, Willow.” Her blue eyes made contact with green, and the girls stared at one another for a long moment, knowing that this wasn’t just about Willow figuring out whether to return to Sunnydale or not. The acknowledgment hung in the air between them like an unanswered question, the moment broken only by a flash of lightning and a growl of thunder that immediately followed it.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” Willow pulled back the covers of her bed and shifted to one side in it. “Please, Tara?”

Tara felt a surge of emotion clench her stomach and she let her eyes take in the wide gaze of her girlfriend. She wanted to be with Willow so much, taking a chance on that was the hardest trial she had ever had to undergo. Giving her love and hoping that she would receive Willow’s in return was fast becoming something she wasn’t sure she could rely on. And it had always been so reliable, so sure, an unspoken agreement between the two of them. Since Buffy’s death that had changed. Everything had changed.

“I thought you didn’t…” she began, then broke off as she realised she couldn’t say the words.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Willow repeated. “Not without you.” She pulled back the blankets even further and took a breath, “Please?”

Almost without consciously moving herself, Tara got up and slid herself into the bed beside Willow, sensing rather than feeling the relief of the redhead. Willow pulled the covers up over them both as Tara reached out and turned off the bedside light. Settling herself onto her back, Tara felt the redhead put her arm up over her, her head nestling so easily against her shoulder. A tiny sigh escaped Willow’s throat and she closed her eyes, laying her body along the whole length of Tara’s feeling a shred of peace allow itself to enter her mind.

As Tara’s arm moved out to encircle the slight body of the redhead and draw her closer, she closed her eyes in the darkness, the sounds of the storm receding somewhat from her fevered mind, the comfort she had craved for so long finally drifting her off towards sleep.



Part 12

Faith hid a smirk when Willow opened the door of their hotel room with Tara just behind her. Both girls were dressed in baggy tshirts and looked in a state of disarray, both having a severe case of bedhead. No prizes for guessing what they were up to, Faith thought to herself as Willow hung on the door and looked at the dark Slayer with wide, worried eyes.

“Need a few minutes?” she grinned lasciviously at the two of them, trying not to notice Tara’s hand creeping onto Willow’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Uh…if you don’t mind…” Willow said, distractedly.

“I’ll wait downstairs, try to score with the cute local honey,” Faith laughed, expecting at least a smile in return. However, Willow and Tara both nodded, the redhead hastily closing the door. Faith jumped back smartly to avoid being hit in the face with the heavy wood and a frown crossed her face. She cocked her head onto one side, chewing at her lip. “Huh,” she folded her arms, “Guess the makeup sex must be really somethin’.”

Staring at the door a couple of seconds longer, she then shook her head dismissively and made her way downstairs to the foyer. As she reached the foot of the stairs, she saw Niamh saying goodbye to a couple who were telling her how much they had enjoyed their stay, and yes, the food was magnificent, and yes, the beds really were comfortable. This went on for some time, as Faith watched, rather amused by it all.

The couple left, still proclaiming their love of the hotel and everything in it as they got outside. Niamh shut the door behind them, turning and puffing out her cheeks, rolling her eyes heavenward. Then she noticed Faith, leaning against the wall, her body in an almost provocative pose, hips jutting forwards, legs crossed at the ankle. Niamh instinctively patted down her already smooth hair and blushed, offering a smile to the Slayer that was lazily returned, curving Faith’s mouth into an even more provocative half sneer.

“Here again then?” Niamh said, moving back behind the relative safety of the counter and eyeing Faith carefully through glistening eyes.

“Yep,” Faith pushed herself off the wall and loped over to the counter, leaning on the top of it, the zips at the cuffs of her jackets clinking softly on the wooden surface. “And you know what…Niamh,” she emphasised the other girl’s name, “I realised that I never introduced myself last time we met. And it occurred to me that that was just, you know, bad manners.”

“Oh!” Niamh breathed heavily, all in a rush before she realised that she’d even been holding her breath in the first place. “Well that’s okay…I mean…that’s just – “

“So anyway,” the Slayer said, holding out her hand, “I’m Faith.”



“Honey, why don’t you tell Faith about the nightmares?” Tara suggested, watching Willow pull on a brightly coloured sweater that really didn’t match her mood right now. The redhead shook her hair out of the neck of the sweater and glanced across to where Tara sat on her own bed, now dressed in a pair of cargo pants and a long sleeved tshirt with faded arms.

“I’m not sure Faith could deal right now,” Willow shrugged, looking down by the side of her bed for her shoulder bag. “She’s holding on by such a thin thread, I mean, even I can see that. I think it’s all she can do to be strong for herself right now.”

“Great,” Tara murmured, bending down to tie the laces on her sneakers, “Guess I’ll just have to settle for at least three sleepless nights a week then.”

Willow’s head shot up at her tone, looking in something like amazement at her girlfriend. It was so unlike Tara to be bitter, or cruel, or to say something in anger. Usually she just backed down, and that was how it worked. She’d get upset, approaching a tantrum and Tara would back down. The blonde hated conflict at the best of times, hell, she’d even told Willow once that she would do most anything for an easy life. And now here she was, practically instigating an argument.

“What did you say?” Willow’s tone was sharp and accusatory.

Tara sat up from her laces, now in neat bows, and pushed at her hair, her face slightly flushed. Her blue eyes met Willow’s, a trace of guilty anger lingering in their depths. She shrugged. “Well come on Willow, I mean, neither of us has slept properly in a long time.”

“Look, I didn’t ask to have nightmares. I’m really sorry if they’re disturbing your precious sleep!” Willow flushed a deep red and grabbed her bag up off the floor, swinging it around and over her shoulder like a weapon. “You know how I’ve been since – “

“I know,” Tara sighed, “I really do. But Willow, Buffy died for me too. I was her friend too. I know it was nothing like what you and she had but…” the blonde paused for breath, then continued, gathering strength with ever word, “but all of this isn’t just about you. We ran away, you and I, and I’ve got stuff to deal with too. I just feel like you aren’t interested in me any more. I mean, yesterday…” she paused, suddenly realising how loud her voice sounded right now. But she couldn’t stop, even though the hurt look on Willow’s face was tearing into her heart. “Yesterday it felt like you were going through the motions Willow,” she said, her voice dropping to a shameful note, unable to look at the redhead any longer. “And I think I deserve better than that.”

Willow’s nostrils flared as she tried to keep her tears in check. She swallowed hard, her throat feeling like fire all the way down. “Okay,” she nodded, “alright. If that’s how you feel about it.”

“It is,” Tara looked up, her eyes dark and soulful, “And you never ask me how I feel about anything…not anymore.”

Nodding, Willow straightened up, smoothing her hands down her jeans. She took a breath and pulled the hem of her sweater down over her waist. Letting out a short sigh, she glanced towards Tara, “Faith’s waiting for us.” Her voice was low, angry and very hurt. “Let’s not keep her.”



“So what do you do in America?” Niamh asked, her eyes searching Faith up and down for some hint at her occupation. In her mind, Faith already did something terribly exciting and glamorous. Movie star? No, she stopped herself, silly girl. Faith was much more suited to the rock star lifestyle, she could tell that already.

Faith shrugged nonchalantly, really enjoying the way that Niamh hung on her every word and grinned widely every time she said something that made the Slayer laugh. “Oh you know, this and that,” she said with a smirk, “I don’t like to stay in one job too long, it gets boring. And you know what they say…” she smiled across at the other girl.

“No, what?” Niamh asked eagerly.

Faith sighed. Was this chick for real? She’d only ever seen the innocent act on crappy daytime soaps, but it seemed that Niamh was the real deal. Leaning forward over the counter and lowering her voice to what was little more than a sultry growl, she winked, “They say that variety is the spice of life. And you know what? They’re right.”

Niamh let out another of those restrained breaths and blushed again. “Oh I’d love to go to America. I bet it’s just amazing.”

“Yeah well it’s okay I guess,” Faith said, wistful for a moment to see the world the way that Niamh did. Then her sense of perspective kicked in and she found herself grinning at the other girl, eliciting yet another flush from the innocent in front of her, “It kinda lacks the uh…” she pretended to be searching for the word, “the charm of Ireland, let’s just say.”

Niamh burst out into a fit of giggles that was so infectious that Faith found herself joining in too.

As they entered the foyer of the hotel, Willow and Tara heard Faith and Niamh before they saw them. Faith’s throaty laughter was harmonised with the light giggling of the Irish girl, and for some reason, it stuck in Tara’s chest like a heavy ball of lead. She glanced across at Willow and saw the look on her face, knowing she was feeling the exact same way.

Turning, Faith caught both their glances and her laughter stopped immediately. Okay, so she’d been wrong, cuz those weren’t the faces of people who were interested in makeup sex. In fact, she thought wryly, those were the faces of people who’d just had breakup sex. Her mind drifted back to the previous afternoon and the state in which she’d found Tara. Then she remembered how they’d barely touched one another after the desperate hug Willow had given Tara. A sigh escaped her lips. Suddenly things were starting to make sense.

“Willow! Tara!” Niamh called to them, oblivious to the frosty signs they were giving one another. Faith grimaced inwardly. Bad time to be cutesy now, sweetcheeks, she silently warned Niamh.

“So what’s the itinerary for today then?” Niamh asked the two witches brightly, as they both fumbled to find something approaching civility.

“Uh, the castle,” Faith interjected before either witch could answer.

“No…” Willow sighed, “Tara and I went there yesterday.”

Faith turned round and widened her eyes, hoping against hope that the witches would understand her exaggerated glare. “But I haven’t been yet, and who better to show me than someone who went there just yesterday?” she said, through clenched teeth, giving them the look again.

“But Faith, we – “ Tara said.

“No, Tara! That’s a great idea Faith!” Willow suddenly understood what Faith was motioning about with her eyes, and put her hand on Tara’s arm, giving the blonde a warning look with her eyes, squeezing her arm hard. Tara opened her mouth, then shut it again, nodding firmly.

Both witches fixed a bright smile on their faces and looked back at Faith. She nodded curtly and turned to Niamh. “The castle it is then,” she said firmly.

“Great!” Niamh said, “I’m off work now, so I’ll come too if that’s okay?” She looked at Faith, who looked at Willow, who looked at Tara, who grimly glanced back at Faith.

“Sure,” all three girls said in unison.



Part 13

Niamh never stopped prattling all the way up to the castle; so much so that Faith was beginning to wonder where she found the breath to talk, as the climb wasn’t particularly easy, even for someone with Slayer energy. Niamh seemed to gambol around the three of them like a frisky lamb, pointing out places of little to no interest to them, whilst they nodded like obedient puppies and pasted false smiles onto their faces. Faith had managed, through a series of whispers and facial expressions, to communicate to Willow and Tara that she had seen something suspicious here only the previous night. All three of them silently agreed that it would have been a whole lot easier to go ahead with their search if they hadn’t have had the tour guide along.

As they wandered through the iron gateway to the castle itself, Tara caught Willow staring at her again. The redhead had been sneaking glances at her all the way up the path, her green eyes shaded by something that looked like guilt. Shaking her hair out of her eyes, Tara stopped on the gravel path, letting Faith and Niamh go on ahead, the Slayer grunting in response to the Irish girl’s playful chatter.

“I really could have done without her today,” the blonde witch sighed, then immediately felt bad for her own irritability. It wasn’t Niamh’s fault she was in a bad mood, that was for sure. She brought her eyes back to look at Willow, the other girl still gazing at her from underneath her eyelids, her lashes flickering down to shade the misted green there. “Willow, we have to talk. And soon,” she said, her voice low and meaningful.

“I know,” the redhead sighed, seeming to relax a little. “I hate you being mad at me. And before you say anything,” she held up her hand as Tara opened her mouth, “I know this isn’t your fault.” She dropped her head sadly onto her chest and heaved a huge sigh that reverberated through her whole body.

“It’s nobody’s fault, Willow,” Tara reached forward and grasped Willow’s hand, stroking her thumb over the back of it in what she hoped was a conciliatory and comforting gesture. “It’s not a question of where to put the blame…it’s all just a bit…” she chewed at her bottom lip, trying to find the right words and failing horribly. “It’s just a tough patch, that’s all. Just a patch.” She settled for grim optimism. Even if her insides were screaming ‘coward’ at her for backing down, yet again.

Willow looked up at Tara, her eyes panicked and wide, two pools of sparkling emerald shining in the hazy sunshine. “Tara, please don’t leave me,” she whispered, the corners of her mouth turning down at the mere mention of it. “Please don’t…I’ll do anything, I promise, but please don’t leave me?"

Shaking her head, Tara stepped forward and brought the slight figure of the redhead into an embrace, squeezing the other girl hard. She felt Willow’s arms slip around her back and pull her in even closer. Leaving Willow had never crossed her mind, the blonde thought to herself, in fact, for a moment yesterday she had thought it was the other way round. And when two people needed one another as much as they did, but just couldn’t get it right…that confused her. All the promises they had made whirled around her mind, offering her hope in the darkness that anger brought to her heart. How easy it would be to just turn away, leave all of this. She’d done it before, with her family, so why not now? Not even she could answer that for herself.

“Hey!” Faith’s voice drifted over to them from the castle wall, making them draw back from one another. “When you two have finished the make out session, can we get some good old fashioned tourist shit done here?” The Slayer fixed them both with her dark gaze, hands placed firmly on her hips. Beside her, Niamh jogged nervously from foot to foot, trying not to stare at Willow and Tara but doing so anyway. Quite blatantly, her mouth slightly open at their display of affection.

Giving Tara a watery smile that was the best she could manage right now, Willow slipped her hand into the blonde’s, a wave of gratitude washing over her when the other girl didn’t pull away. They crunched their way down the gravel path to where Faith stood; letting the Slayer shake her head at them in mock disapproval.

“So this is it then?” Faith squinted up at the stone wall that loomed over her, shading her eyes against the rising sun in the sky. The storm that had raged the previous night had left everything rather damp; petals in the vibrant gardens hung heavy with drops of rain and the girls had slipped on the wet ground more than once on their way up the path.

“It’s centuries old,” Niamh informed her, almost proudly. “And we have a ghost!” she added, her voice almost squeaking excitedly.

“A ghost?” Faith cast her eyes over to Willow and Tara, letting them know in no uncertain terms that she was already aware of that little detail. “A ghost that hangs around here huh?” She nodded at the two witches, who returned the understanding with an imperceptible movement of their heads.

“Oh yes,” Niamh said, her face flushing with pleasure at being the centre of attention. “Grace O’Malley was a pirate queen in the waters around Ireland. I think it was around the time of Queen Elizabeth.”

“Pretty recent then?” Faith raised her eyebrows.

“Um…no, Queen Elizabeth the First,” Niamh said, looking down at her feet.

Turning away, clearly embarrassed, Faith shook her head and stomped off down the gravel path, muttering something to herself about ‘stupid British names’ and ‘why couldn’t they be called something different’. Niamh followed her obediently, taking two steps to every one Faith crunched into the gravel in an effort to keep up with her.

“You think Faith saw something demony?” Willow turned to Tara, her eyes alight with an interest that the blonde hadn’t seen for a long time.

“Sounds like it,” Tara shrugged, intrigued herself by Faith’s sudden interest in the castle, and the ghost of Grace O’Malley.

Willow hitched her shoulder bag up and pulled it over her head, so that it lay across her chest. “I guess we’d better take a closer look around then,” she said, her voice sounding strong and purposeful. It made Tara smile inside, to hear Willow like that again, just like she’d always been. The blonde looked up at the top of the castle wall and closed her eyes in a silent thank you to whatever presence had taken Willow out of herself, at least for a little while.



“How long have you known Willow and Tara?” Niamh asked, as she followed Faith around the perimeter of the castle. She had obviously failed to notice the slow, deliberate steps the Slayer was taking, her brown eyes flashing almost everywhere in an effort to find something, anything at all, in fact.

Faith stopped and looked up the castle wall, towards the spot where she had seen the figure only the previous night. She stepped back to get a better view, putting her hands onto her hips, the tip of her tongue coming out to briefly lick thoughtfully at her lower lip.

“Uh…a while I guess,” she answered absent-mindedly.

“They’re a couple,” Niamh said conspiratorially, “That’s really sweet.”

Bringing her gaze round to meet Niamh’s clear blue innocent gaze, Faith couldn’t help feeling something close to astonishment. She let out a little laugh, which stopped abruptly as she found she was close to speechless. Of all the things she’d expected Niamh to say about Willow and Tara, calling them ‘sweet’ wasn’t one of them. Still, she justified to herself, she guessed that life was full of surprises. Niamh being one of them, obviously.

“I mean,” Niamh continued, faltering slightly under the intensity of Faith’s deep brown stare, “I think they look really good together, as a couple.” She shifted slightly, her feet crackling on the gravel underneath them.

“Right,” Faith nodded slowly, amusement bubbling up in her chest. The sneaking suspicion she’d had this morning that Niamh was pulling out all the stops in an effort to impress her was pretty much confirmed. And, she figured, who was she to stop a pretty girl trying to impress her? She fixed Niamh with a sly smile and folded her arms. “I’m sure they’ll be really glad to get your seal of gay approval,” she said.

Niamh giggled loudly, then clamped her hand over her mouth, looking away from Faith. Shaking her head, she turned back to look at the Slayer, her hand moving from her mouth to fiddle with the drawstrings on her jacket. “Oh no,” she grinned, blinking rapidly, “I’m not…I mean…I don’t think I’m…”

“Whatever, I’m just teasin’,” Faith waved her hand around, wondering if she’d just lost interest or gained it again. Nothing more attractive than a challenge, she told herself, before quickly remonstrating with her own mind that this really wasn’t the reason she’d come to Ireland in the first place. Damn you B! she thought again, always popping into her head when she least expected, and wanted her to.

Buffy, with her kindness to those not involved in the Slayer’s universe, had always seemed to possess some kind of inner grace the dark Slayer had often envied, but never found in her own relationships. Faith had never understood why Buffy was so nice to people; she had always thought that people fell into two categories, those who were useful and those who weren’t. But Buffy had always given everyone a chance, at least. And boy, did it ever infuriate Faith that she was doing exactly that right now.

The Slayer shook off the memory and continued her trail around the castle, walking slowly in a pretence of taking in the gardens that were lavish and green with summer colours.

Niamh followed closely behind, “I used to have a boyfriend,” she told Faith, her voice taking on the tone of one close friend confiding to another. She failed to notice the way that Faith’s eyes rolled heavenward and glazed over slightly.

“Really…fascinating,” Faith muttered, a scowl pulling at her lips.

“He was okay really, I mean, nice to me and stuff,” Niamh nodded enthusiastically, trying to sound as nonchalant about it as Faith did about, well, everything. “But we just didn’t, you know, connect,” she brought her palms together in front of her to demonstrate the point. “His name was Niall,” she added, looking at Faith in the hopes that the Slayer would confide in her too about past loves.

“Niall,” Faith said, shrugging, “Isn’t that a river?”

Niamh burst out laughing and slapped Faith on the arm, receiving a glare from the other girl that halted her merriment. It was only when Faith’s mouth curved upwards in a perfect smile that she resumed her giggling, hardly noticing that Faith’s eyes were dulled with boredom already.

“Faith!” Tara approached them, somewhat breathlessly, her sneakers slapping noisily down the path. Faith whirled around, thanking the gods for the distraction. “Willow wants you round the other side of the castle,” Tara said, her eyes darting between the two girls in front of her. “She um, she said she wanted to show you something.”

Faith nodded abruptly and started off, Niamh about to follow her. But Tara caught the Irish girl’s arm and held her back, smiling kindly at her. “Now Niamh,” she said gently, “how about you and me go round the castle and meet them at the other side?” For a second, Niamh’s eyes followed Faith’s retreating figure wistfully, before she looked back at Tara and nodded brightly, leading her off in the opposite direction to the Slayer.



When Faith found her, Willow was crouched by the castle wall just in front of the main doorway, the huge arch casting a shadow on the ground in front of it. “What’s up?” the Slayer frowned, bending down beside the redhead.

“I’m not sure,” Willow said slowly, “but there are some markings here,” she pointed towards what looked like deep gouges in the surface of the stone. They were about six inches long, criss-crossing over the rough foundation stone, as though made indiscriminately and without thought.

Faith stood up, pursing her lips in consternation. “Guess on a place this old you’re gonna find that kind of stuff,” she shrugged; a little disappointed that it wasn’t something more helpful.

“That’s just it though,” Willow said, pushing herself up from her position and smoothing her hands down her thighs. “Those marks have a signature.” From Faith’s nonplussed expression, she realised that the Slayer didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, and continued, “Everything magickal has a signature that’s left on the surface of our reality; a kind of postmark, if you like,” she moved her hands as she talked, her voice careful and clear through the details. “Sometimes these magickal things leave real marks in our world,” she gestured again to the score marks in the stone, “and those marks have a magickal signature. Whatever made them wasn’t human,” she finished simply, her eyes meeting Faith’s.

The Slayer felt an old thrill go through her. Sure, she’d come across more magick in her lifetime than any other young woman could cope with, but for some reason, discovering this here, with Willow and Tara, awakened the old lust inside of her. She felt herself smile back at the witch, watching Willow’s eyes narrow and fill with the same feeling she herself had.

“Looks like we got ourselves a mystery,” she grinned.

Footsteps on the pathway alerted them to the approach of Niamh and Tara. The blonde looked between Willow and Faith and raised her eyebrows in a silent question. The Slayer nodded and folded her arms; she’d make sure the three of them came here again, only this time they would be without Niamh.

“What did you want to show Faith then?” Niamh asked, her blue eyes darting between the girls.

“Huh?” Willow frowned, obviously confused.

“Oh just some old picture of that pirate chick,” Faith filled in easily, watching as Niamh leant back onto her heels, clearly disappointed that it wasn’t something more exciting.

“Grace,” the Irish girl said, sighing.

“Yeah,” Faith said, pushing at her hair. “So, I don’t know about you guys, but I’d kill for some ice cream right now. How about we go check out the village?”

Hesitantly, Willow and Tara nodded, hoping against hope that Niamh wasn’t going to join them yet again. The marks on the rock had excited Willow so much that she really didn’t want to waste any more time babysitting.

“Oh…” Niamh glanced at her watch and sighed, her face falling, “I have to get back to the hotel, mum’s expecting me to go shopping with her in Dublin.”

All three girls made noises of deep sorrow and disappointment, whilst Faith gave Willow and Tara a huge ‘thumbs up’ sign behind Niamh’s back. They stifled their giggles by dropping their heads downward, as though cut to the quick by Niamh’s impending absence.

“Just the three of us then,” Faith shrugged, then shot a flirtatious smirk towards the Irish girl, “But we’ll walk you back Niamh. Might as well get the best of you while we still can.” Sliding her arm around the young girl’s shoulders, she escorted a now thoroughly over-excited and near catatonic Niamh towards the iron gateway.

Without thinking, Willow pushed her arm through Tara’s and followed them, the blonde smiling at the affectionate gesture.

“Does she ever stop being Faith? I mean, ever?” Willow shook her head, although her words weren’t said with unkindness.

Tara grinned, feeling the sun rise ever higher in the sky above her, casting its rays down onto her face. Her spirits lifted and she felt good, for the first time in what seemed like too long. “I don’t think so,” she answered, “and I hope she never does.”



Part 14

“So I saw a ghost last night then?” Faith said, her voice muffled by a huge mouthful of ice cream she had just licked from the top of a cone. She, Willow and Tara were sitting on one of the benches at the front of the village green, with a picturesque vantage point of the harbour. It wasn’t very busy, just boats bobbing up and down on the waves, and the distant cry of seagulls that were floating close to the island beyond the bay. The sun had decided to hide behind a cloud, taking with it some of the camaraderie of their visit to the castle, and revealing a slight blustery wind that came in off the ocean beyond.

Willow licked her lips free of ice cream and nodded. “I guess so,” she answered, “I mean, who else could it be? And you say whoever it was had a sword?”

Faith nodded, her mouth full of crispy wafer this time. “Mm hmm. Big ass sword too,” her eyes lit up, “kinda cool.”

“W-we don’t know that this ghost is evil though, do we?” Tara interjected, leaning forward from her seat beside Willow to look at Faith on the other side of the redhead.

“Does it matter?” Faith shrugged, “Ghosts are ghosts…gotta be some reason why she’s balancing all freaky on top of a castle. I mean, she didn’t exactly look like she was goin’ to come down and offer to make us all tea.”

“No…if she’s not harmful then why not just leave her there?” Tara suggested, drawing a wide-eyed look from her girlfriend. She quivered under the gaze for a second, before sinking back into her seat. “Just a thought,” she murmured, hating the ire that rang in her ears from Willow’s obvious reprimand.

“Tara, ghosts generally hang around places because they can’t rest. There’s a reason she’s here and it’s not because she kinda liked the scenery,” Willow said, her voice holding a distinct challenge.

Faith caught the note of Willow’s voice and frowned for a second. Red sure knew how to go all ‘schoolteachery’ when she felt like it. The Slayer didn’t like it one bit. In fact, she didn’t like the tension you could cut with a knife between the witches at all. Tension that had pretty much been driving them apart since she’d arrived, and probably before that too. She’d seen the way they avoided talking about anything remotely serious. She’d also noticed the way that Tara often bit her lip and flushed red when she was keeping something back. Like right now, for instance, she realised.

“Hang on Red, maybe Tara’s got a point, you know, perhaps – “ she began, but stopped when Tara leaned forward again, her face taut and angry.

“Willow, I know you’ve had more experience at this than I have, but maybe just once you’d kind of like to take a suggestion I make seriously.”

Shit, thought Faith, Tara’s getting’ real mad and that can’t be good. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen the blonde so angry before. Or angry at all. Ever.

“Right,” Willow didn’t back down one inch, but instead swivelled round to face her girlfriend, fixing her with a steely gaze, trying to ignore the way that Tara’s eyes were flashing a stormy blue. “And I thought you were the one who wanted me to get back to what I do best, you know, get a little slaying time,” she responded flatly. Whether she’d intended her words to hurt Tara, she wasn’t sure. The truth was that they visibly cut into the blonde, who flinched back as though Willow had just slapped her.

“I never said that,” Tara ventured finally, her voice unsure and trembling slightly. “I only s-s-said that you should try to figure out w-w-what you w-w-want…” she trailed off; biting her lip in annoyance that now should be the time her stutter re-emerged.

“What I want?” Willow sounded surprised, although the look in her eyes was fierce, deepening them to a colour that contrasted incongruously with her pale features. She brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear and let out a snort of mirthless laughter, “Well I wouldn’t mind everyone getting off my back for a while, and oh yes,” her mouth hardened into a thin line, “how about my best friend back? Oh…that’s right,” she breathed harshly, “she’s dead. No luck there either then.”

Faith leant forward and caught Willow’s shoulder, squeezing it hard so that the redhead flashed her a glance filled with fury. Mere humans might have trembled in its glare, but Faith stumbled in blindly where mortals feared to tread.

“Come on Red,” she tried to lighten the tone of her voice but realised that it just wasn’t working the way she’d intended. “Give Tara a break, okay? Let’s not do this now.”

“No Faith,” Tara got to her feet, throwing her ice cream into the dustbin nearby and lifting her chin defiantly. “Let’s do this right now, god knows, somebody needs to. I’m sick of w-w-waiting around for her to decide whether she wants to carry on with me or not. All of this crying and not doing anything and worrying…” her words were tumbling over one another in her haste to get it all out, pink spots appearing high on her cheeks. “Did she tell you she can’t even bring herself to touch me anymore?” she gasped at Faith, who shrunk back into her seat, whether through embarrassment or emotion she couldn’t tell.

“Tara! That’s not true!” Willow let out a high-pitched sigh that coloured her words with pain, her eyes widening at the sight of her girlfriend’s anger.

“Yes it is,” Tara accused her, “You don’t want to be near me, and when you do it’s not like it was. You think I’ve never lost anyone? You think I’ve never grieved over anyone?” she thrust a thumb towards her chest for emphasis. “My m-m-mother left me, my father ignored me, my brother…” she stopped, her face crumpling at the unhappy memories stomping through her brain, eliciting such an expression of disgust on her fine features that Willow thought her heart would break. Shaking them off, Tara fixed her gaze on the incredulous face of the woman she loved more than anything in front of her. Loved more than anything in the world, and yet, at this moment, she could hardly bear the sight of her.

“You’re leaving me too Willow,” she continued, her voice low and vibrating emotion through every syllable. “Every day, you think I don’t notice how you turn away from me, but you do. I don’t know w-w-what to do about it and I try Willow, god I try,” her voice cracked with tears but she carried on regardless that the anger was splashing down her cheeks in hot, searing droplets of distress. “I’ve given you everything I’ve got and it’s still not enough,” she added softly, closing her eyes and sending a fresh wave of tears down her face. “I haven’t got anything more,” she looked one last time at Willow, at the face that was fixed on hers, “don’t you see? I haven’t got anything else.”

Far above them, a lone seagull circled, its cry mournful and absolute in the calm that enclosed the tiny storm of the three girls below. The bird let out two more sharp cries, wheeling on the wind that buffeted its outstretched wings, crying for what, or whom, nobody knew, nor ever would. In that moment, Willow felt as though her heart had stopped. As though time itself had stood still, trapped in a horrible truth of Tara’s anger and hurt that she had kept inside for so long; longer even, than Willow had known her. And tumbling over her emotions now, the redhead heard every single word, each utterance biting deeper and deeper into her poor aching heart. For a moment she merely looked up at Tara, taking in the flashing blue pools that wept openly; the fine lines of her cheekbones framing her face; the full lips that were open and red with emotion. In a second, Willow saw it all, and felt everything as clearly as her girlfriend. If it was true that their link went beyond the physical, then Willow understood in that second, what Tara was feeling at that very minute.

And god, did it hurt. The pain went so much deeper than mere grief. It reached down into her very depths and pulled out every day that Tara had wanted her father’s love and had been pushed aside. It revealed every night that Tara’s brother had hurt her, sometimes with words and sometimes with actions. It pulled back the coverings that had been so carefully laid over the death of a mother, of perhaps the only one who had nurtured a gifted and quite unique daughter. Yes, it made Willow feel everything that had shaped Tara’s heart, and see everyone who had killed her trust.

But most of all, when Willow opened herself up to the images that were pouring into her whole being, what she did see was herself. The Scooby Gang, the family, the friendship. And the love. She saw herself and Tara in love with one another, all the things Tara had wanted for so many years. Almost like a dream, Willow felt Tara’s love like never before. A tentative and carefully moulded yearning that reached fulfilment in Willow’s own heart and caress. Her mouth open, Willow gazed up at Tara, never quite realising just how much the other girl loved her, never quite finding words to quantify that love, and never really wanting to. She saw everything, felt everything, knew everything…all in a single second of realisation.

Closing her mouth, Willow swallowed, ready to speak. But Tara held up her hand, her eyes closing once more over burning eyes, shutting her off, shutting her out. Shaking her head just once, the blonde witch cast an anguished look towards her girlfriend, then turned and ran away, down towards the huge stone wall encircling the harbour.

Willow jumped up. She had to. Get her back. Go after her. Panic flashing through her brain like a beacon of light. More than anything, she knew what she wanted right now, and it was fleeing from her. Running away from her. And all she wanted was to get it back before she lost it forever.

A hand on her wrist stopped her. Looking down, she threw a pained look at Faith, who’s own face was set in a determined grim expression.

“Faith!” she shook her head wildly, “I have to go – “

“No you don’t.” Faith said, pulling Willow down beside her again. “That’s the one thing you ain’t gonna do. No how, no way.”

“But if I never tell her…”

“And what are you gonna tell her then, Red? You think an ‘I’m sorry’ is gonna be okay this time?” Faith’s voice was harsh, although her eyes were moving sadly over Willow’s face, taking in and understanding every single line of worry that was appearing on the redhead’s features.

Willow sighed, leaning forwards, resting her elbows onto her knees. “I don’t know…” she sighed, “I just don’t know anymore.”

“Well I do,” Faith said abruptly, finishing off her ice cream and licking the ends of her fingers greedily. She cast a wistful look down at the floor where Willow had dropped her own cone, now melting over the concrete slab beneath the bench. “Listen Red, I didn’t want to have to say this to you, but I think you can take your lumps.”

Willow sat up, pressing her back against the metal rods on the bench, as though seeking comfort from their hardness. “Okay,” she sighed, brushing a few errant tears from the corners of her eyes with the back of one hand.

Faith pressed her lips together and looked off across the bay for a moment. Then she turned to Willow and took a little breath, “There’s no easy way of sayin’ this Red, so I just gotta come right out and do it. I always used to think you were the brains of the operation, you know, research and stuff, always got your head in a book.”

“Where’s this heading Faith?” Willow sighed, a little weary of the dark Slayer’s unusual verbosity.

“Well, from what I’ve seen since I came here, you gotta be takin’ stupid pills or somethin’, cuz you’re acting like a grade A fool.” Faith said flatly, fully prepared for Willow to fly off the handle; she tensed her body and edged away imperceptibly on the bench.

Willow’s eyes narrowed slightly as she took in Faith’s words, rolling them round in her head and trying them on for size. Unfortunately, in her heart of hearts, she realised that they were pretty much a perfect fit. A sigh escaped her throat and she looked down at her knees, gripping them firmly with her fingers until her knuckles turned white. Her hair fell forward, brushed over her face by the wind at her back, sending a chill down her spine. “Go on,” she muttered, through gritted teeth.

Gathering momentum, Faith slung one arm over the back of the bench. “You’re my friend, right? And I gotta tell you, that’s good. But Tara’s my friend too, and I hate to see the two of you like this. It’s no good for anyone, Red.” The Slayer’s voice was in check, holding something back. When Willow looked up again, she saw that Faith’s eyes were bright with tears, her chin trembling slightly as she spoke.

“I had a girl, Red,” Faith said, a distant smile colouring her mouth for a fleeting second as she jerked her head back, flicking her hair away from her face. “I had a girl that I loved so much, I thought the whole world revolved around her. And sure, we had fights, I mean, hell, I busted a gut gettin’ her to ever talk to me again. I didn’t think she ever would. For a time, we were special, you know? The Chosen Two. Like, just me an’ her against the world, doin’ what we did the best. And I never wanted anyone else but her,” Faith stopped, swallowing the tears down hard, fighting for breath.

“And my girl, she was the best.” Faith said softly, “She was the best, Red. She loved me, she gave me the hope that life wasn’t some shitty mess you had to wade through to get to the dyin’. She taught me that life was whatever you made of it. And I wanted to make somethin’ of it. But you know,” a mirthless smile curved the corners of the dark Slayer’s lips before dropping away again, “I left her behind cuz I thought my own shit was more important than the two of us together. You know how it is; you think they’ll always be there to come back to one day. And I truly believed that one day, I’d come back to her and she’d be there waitin’ for me.”

“Oh Faith…” Willow breathed, reaching out and putting her hand over the other girl’s, feeling the cold fingers pulse slightly underneath her touch.

“But she isn’t there anymore,” Faith continued, fighting a losing battle against the weariness, the pain, the loneliness that swept her up and filled every empty space in her being. “She’s gone. And the biggest regret of my life is that I never got to say goodbye to her. I never got to tell her.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, shaking her head, before her eyes swung up to meet Willow’s, gazing in rapt attention. “I never got to tell her that I needed her, that I still need her, that not a day goes by when I don’t think of how she made me believe that we’re all here for some reason bigger than just you, or me, or anyone on this planet. I found her, loved her, I still love her. Every fuckin’ day, I still love her.”

Willow shook her head and let the tears drop slowly down her cheeks, falling onto the joined hands of witch and Slayer.

“If I had my girl back again, Red… If I had my girl back and she loved me, like Tara loves you…” Faith swallowed hard again, her voice croaking with emotion, each word becoming a superhuman effort to form.

Taking a ragged breath, Faith squeezed Willow’s hand in her own, hoping against hope that this time, the redhead was hearing her properly. “If I had a girl like yours, I’d hold her and I’d never let go,” she said finally, her head sinking onto her chest.

Reaching out blindly, Willow grasped the Slayer’s shoulders and pulled her close, resting her head next to the wild black hair of the other girl. As their arms moved around one another, they cried openly for the loss of their hope, their dreams, and their guide. A shared grief that finally took shape and form in the mutual understanding of something amidst the blur of months where nothing had made any sense.

High above them, the seagull let out one desolate cry, leaning round in a full circle, before dropping like a stone towards the ocean.



Part 15

She was standing alone on the high stone wall that reached out like a monolithic arm into the sea. Following her gaze, the ocean stretched out beyond, shadows in the distance of the Wicklow Hills peering from underneath a blanket of mist and haze. Narrowing her eyes, Tara stared past Ireland’s Eye to where the land curled around on itself, wondering if all of Ireland was as beautiful as it was here. Certainly, the white crests of the waves and the waving trees on the island in the bay lulled her into a false sense of security. It was so pretty and yet, she knew nothing about it. And not knowing, well, she gave a wry smile to herself and sniffed loudly, that was the hardest part.

When she had run off on Willow just now, the last sight she had had of her girlfriend was a pair of startled eyes looking up at her. She’d seen that look in Willow’s face before; when they had been looking over the dead body of Buffy. The redhead had simply gazed, too shocked to say or do anything. Tara could still feel the way Willow had fallen against her when they caught sight of the Slayer lying lifeless on the rubble. Only seconds before, Willow had been the one keeping Tara steady.

The blonde witch sighed. She guessed that relationships weren’t all about one person holding the other up all the time. Sometimes even the strong one stumbled and needed a firm arm around them.

Looking down at her hands, Tara rubbed her palms together, suddenly feeling the chill of the sea air whirl around her. A wave smacked against the outer edge of the wall, sending up a flurry of spray into the air. Closing her eyes, Tara could taste the salt in the air, fresh and clean to her senses. She regretted shouting at Willow, of course she did. Years of living with her father had programmed her to be resolutely sorry for almost anything she did that showed she had feelings of her own. But she wasn’t about to accept the guilt for the faltering pace their relationship had taken. Like she’d said to Willow, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Things just happened. It was what they did about them that mattered. But, the corners of her mouth took a downturn; nobody was doing anything right now.

All the anger, all the pain, all the lost and floundering feelings she had been keeping pent up for so long had exploded. And it had left Tara adrift, like the flotsam and jetsam around the harbour, destined to spend forever aimlessly floating between love and loss. She had found Willow, loved her, and had seemingly lost her. The ache was constant, in her mind and in her heart. Why did human beings feel compelled to chase the one thing they could never have, she asked herself. Was it some kind of destructive addiction they felt?

Tara shivered against the salty breeze that ruffled her hair, remembering the day when her father had sat her down and revealed what he said was her true self. She was eighteen. She could still hear his flat, dull tones as he explained that going away to college was only an interim measure, that she would have to come back one day before her demon self destroyed everything and everyone it touched.

Maybe some demons were harder to vanquish than others, she thought ruefully, hugging her arms around her body. She might not be a demon by blood, but right now, she was feeling like one in deed and thought. Oh, she realised that she wasn’t worthy of Willow’s love, that was only too clear. But what hurt the most was that Willow seemed to know that too. And here they were, stranded on some far-flung island, miles away from everything she knew as familiar, and terribly, awfully apart. Sometimes she wished she had been a demon, so that somehow, in a logically ordered fashion, she had a real reason why Willow had stopped loving her.

Willow needed her around now because she was lonely, Tara told herself, her eyes gazing once again at the island in the bay, taking in the rise of the grassy bank up from the shore. That was why she didn’t want Tara to leave her, because she needed some comfort. It had nothing to do with love, not real love, anyway. No, she shook her head, closing her eyes. She’d revealed her feelings, and, in doing so, had probably ruined any chance she and Willow might have had to make things work. At least, make them work in some tiny way compared to the grandiose passion of their love before Glory had come along.

Once, Willow had asked Tara if she remembered anything at all about what happened after Glory had fed on her brain. Hazy, indistinct memories slipped back occasionally into Tara’s head of that time. She shivered again, only this time not because of the cold. Locked inside her own mind, she recalled that one thing had pulled her clear of complete darkness, and that thing had been Willow. If she tried really hard, Tara could even remember how the redhead had held her at night; she had talked to her as though she was herself, not some wandering crazy with creatures roaming her mind. She’s my everything, Tara thought, playing the sound of Willow’s voice through her head once more. Oh yes, she remembered the one true voice that had tugged at her sanity more than anything else.

Was it really all gone now? The bittersweet tang of the salt air stung her lips as she put a hand to her mouth and sobbed against it, the sound of her cries snatched away by the wind and thrown to the ocean.



Faith pulled her cigarettes out of her pocket and lit one after several attempts, cursing the sea air all the while under her breath. Sucking hard, she inhaled deeply and leaned back on the bench, her eyes moving from boat to boat in the harbour, taking in the colours, the clanging of rigging against masts and the fluttering of sails in the wind. It was so peaceful here, she thought to herself, no wonder Red wanted to stay. Given the option, Faith herself would have chosen the relative tranquillity of Howth over Sunnydale any day as well, pirate ghost or no pirate ghost.

Raising the cigarette to her lips again, she lolled her head back on her shoulders and worked it from side to side, needling out a few kinks in the muscles there. She should probably be exercising or something; no need to let the old bod get lazy even if she was on an extended break. Feeling a twinge in her right shoulder, she reached up with her left hand and squeezed it firmly. Stupid foreign beds, she muttered under her breath, never got the right consistency. Or maybe she had gotten so used to sleeping in a prison bed that anything else just wasn’t the same for her now.

Images of the past. She let out a mirthless laugh and flicked ash onto the ground beside her, watching as it was whisked away by the wind. Her eyes hurt, her throat ached and she felt like she’d gone seven rounds with a hellbeast. She was sick of crying; tired of all the pain and shit that it inevitably brought with it. What she’d said to Willow was true, sometimes she would have gladly given her own life to be with Buffy again. Her jaunt into the seedy underworld of LA had been a last ditch attempt to throw everything away. If she couldn’t be with Buffy in this life, then surely they could find one another in the next.

But always, at the back of her mind, there was the Slayer’s promise. One that she hadn’t come to fully understand until recently. It was a gift like no other, Buffy had once told her, a sacred duty to be fulfilled until the day they died. Well that day had come too soon for Buffy; Faith used to think it couldn’t come soon enough for her. God knows, she’d tried hard enough. But self-destruction wasn’t what Buffy had wanted for her, she knew that now. Now that the ‘Chosen Two’ had become one again, she had to live up to the responsibilities Buffy’s death had placed on her shoulders. At least, the responsibility she was now ready to accept. And oddly enough, self-destruction wasn’t what she wanted for herself anymore.

Faith raised the cigarette to her lips again, breathing in deeply. Not in a million years would she have ever suspected someone could touch her life so deeply. She’d simply switched off after losing her Watcher; her eyes misted over and she shook her head dismissively. So long enclosed behind walls of her own making, before they had been broken down. A faint smile played around the corners of her mouth; apparently it had taken Slayer strength to crash through them. And she didn’t regret one single minute of it, any of it. She would take the memories with her as she moved on through life, changing and shaping her own existence and the ones of those around her. And perhaps, just perhaps, she’d find some kind of peace like the harmony she’d experienced in the arms of another Slayer.

Dropping the cigarette to the ground, only half-smoked, she crushed it into smithereens with her heavy boot, leaning forwards so that her hair fell over her shoulders, hanging down towards her chest. Leaning her elbows onto her knees, Faith took a deep breath, tasting the air, sucking in the sharp cleanness, right down into her lungs. Fresh start, she told herself. Every day was a fresh start now. A smile spread across her lips, one that foretold of a truer happiness that she was beginning to find…and then dropped suddenly as she realised she was no longer alone. Someone was there, standing behind her, watching her. Slayer senses crackled inside her head, spinning her round, fists raised at the ready…

Niamh stepped back, almost stumbling over the tussocks of grass behind the bench in an effort to get away from the sight of Faith, rising so quickly that she barely had time to register the flashing sienna of the Slayer’s eyes, heavy over a mouth that was curled into a snarl.

As soon as she saw the frightened blue eyes and retreating figure of the Irish girl, Faith visibly relaxed and sank back onto the bench. “Oh, it’s you,” she mumbled, pulling the edges of her jacket around her and stretching out her legs onto the grass.

Niamh timidly perched on the other end of the bench to Faith and tucked her hair behind her ears, putting her hands neatly into her lap. “Looks like you were expecting something a bit more frightening!” she giggled nervously, her eyes darting back and forth between the shoreline and Faith’s face.

“Uh…it’s all this talk about ghosts up at the castle,” Faith lied easily, swivelling her body round to face Niamh, who edged a little closer, “I get spooked.”

Niamh nodded gravely, her eyes travelling the contours of Faith’s face, resting on the sore and red-rimmed eyes that gazed soulfully back at her. Her smile dropped, and she moved even closer to the Slayer, sliding her body against the cool metal surface of the bench.

“Are you…are you alright?” Niamh’s head cocked onto one side.

Faith turned her head away and frowned. “Sure,” she shrugged, “why?”

“You look like, as if you’ve been, well, crying,” Niamh said simply.

“Sea air,” Faith returned. “All the salt, gets in my eyes and makes them, you know, red and stuff.” She heard herself talk and pitied the person who’d swallow that amount of bull. For some reason, Cordelia’s voice dripped sarcasm into her head and she smiled inwardly. Prom Queen never missed a thing.

“I know we don’t know each other very well,” Niamh’s voice was suddenly very close to her ear, jerking the Slayer out of her thoughts and sending the whisper of a thrill down the side of her body. “But you can talk to me if you want,” the Irish girl continued, her lilting accent sounding like musical cadences playing their way across Faith’s mind. The Slayer’s frown deepened. This was wrong. She shouldn’t be feeling this. The wind pulled at the edges of her hair like loneliness, tugging away at her insides. Pressing her lips together she tried to fight it, willing herself to break away from the need for contact, any contact, with anyone, even just for a fleeting moment.

“So you know,” Niamh’s body was so close to Faith’s she could swear the other girl was practically touching her, “if you do want to talk…”

Turning, Faith found that her face was only inches from Niamh’s, her trusting blue eyes gazing at the Slayer in a way that was intoxicatingly innocent. “I’m more of a doer, not a talker,” she tried to joke, finding that her voice was instead coming out as a low growl.

Niamh purred in reply, her mouth curving upwards to form a beautiful smile that reached all the way up to her eyes, lighting them with an incandescence that flickered across her face. “Well, if you ever feel like doing then…” she trailed away, pushing herself even closer to the Slayer, her hand tentatively inching across the metal surface of the bench to brush over Faith’s. Her little finger just passed along the skin on the Slayer’s hand, an imperceptible touch that shivered its way down Faith’s spine, echoing cruelly in the base of her stomach. How long had it been since she had felt the warmth of another body? Of lips on her own? Of touching, holding, tongue grazing against tongue in a dance of lovemaking? Her throat dried suddenly at the feelings whirling through her whole being.

“Niamh…” she said softly, her hand coming up to grasp the Irish girl’s shoulder, her fingers sinking into the soft woollen fabric the girl wore. It was pliant under her touch, warm and soft, as she was sure those lips would be too if she was to lean forward and press her own against them. Faith looked once into Niamh’s eyes before the other girl closed them, heavy lidded and nervously trembling, ready for the taking. Niamh let out a tiny sigh, her lips pursing forward, kissable and soft, just waiting.

“Yes, Faith?” she murmured, her head lolling back slightly, revealing a length of pale white skin on her neck, along which a vein throbbed with a drumming beat.

The Slayer felt as though she were in a vacuum. This moment, and no other, offered her so many temptations of her older self. Watching Niamh offer herself so freely, without a single shred of the cynicism Faith had lived alongside all her life, the Slayer wanted this so much. It began as a low heavy humming in her chest, rising up to scream in her ears and her mind how much she needed this right now. Just for the human contact, just for the glorious taste of sweetness that was only inches away from her mouth. It fled, dizzyingly, through her head, stopping any other coherent thought.

And then she remembered. She had one blinding flash of a girl saying goodbye to her, pinning her hopes on the fact that one day, she might return. A girl whom Faith knew would wait for her, was honest with her, was decent, was loving. A girl who was back in LA. Her girl. Cordelia could never be Buffy, that was the truth, and somewhere in her heart Faith would always have the other Slayer preciously locked away forever. But Cordy was her girl now. Or, at least, Faith fervently thought, she hoped she would be one day.

Leaning back, Faith pushed at Niamh slightly, moving away from her. The Irish girl opened her eyes, colouring them with deep confusion, her lips parting in an unspoken question.

“I…uh…I have someone,” Faith said slowly, “back home. I have someone.”

Niamh’s face fell and she turned away, looking down at her lap. Her cheeks flushed bright red with embarrassment as she blinked, unable to say anything at all.

“I’m sorry Niamh,” Faith continued, “I never meant to…” she stopped herself. Of course she meant to. She always did. That was the game wasn’t it? Making someone like you only to push them away? And nobody played the game better than she did. Nobody ever had. Silently she cursed herself, in the moment realising the painful cruelty and pointlessness of it all. “Look,” she reached out and grabbed Niamh’s hand in her own, “I think you’re cool, you know? You’re really cool. But I have someone who’s waiting for me and I can’t…” she shook her head, “I just can’t. Okay?”

Niamh raised her head, giving Faith a watery smile. “I’m so stupid,” she grinned foolishly, “To think that someone like you would – “

“Oh but I would!” Faith let out a laugh, eliciting another blush from Niamh, “I really really would. Just not…not now, you see?”

The Irish girl nodded emphatically, not sure whether to take it as a compliment or a complete let down. Instead, she looked down at Faith’s hand over her own and sighed inwardly. If that was all she could get, then that was all she could get.

“I’ve never…you know, kissed a girl before,” Niamh confessed in a slow voice, unable to bear looking at the Slayer once more. "I guessed that maybe you had and..." she shook her head, too shy to say anymore about Faith's undeniable air of experience and sexuality that she carried with her almost unwittingly.

Faith grinned, recalling the time when Cordelia had said exactly the same thing to her. And hadn’t that just stirred up a whole heap of trouble, she almost laughed softly to herself. Glancing back at Niamh, Faith almost wanted to thank her for bringing her thoughts back to Cordy. Fresh start, she thought again. Only, this time, she knew whom she wanted a fresh start with.

“Never kissed a girl…” Faith said thoughtfully, turning back to eye Niamh carefully, “How’s about I give you the next best thing then?”

“And what’s that?” Niamh asked breathlessly, her eyes once more wide and expectant.

“I’ll buy you an ice cream,” Faith grinned, getting up off the bench and pulling a bemused, but not completely unhappy Niamh with her.

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Laid To Rest Parts 16 - 29