Disclaimers: No sex or violence, but death and enough angst to sink a small ship. All characters belong to Mutant Enemy, pity they ran out of imagination about what to do with them.

Spoiler warning: Up to and including the events of season 7, episode 1, "Lessons".

Authors Notes: I wasn't able to express really what kind of effect the first episode had on me in any forum so I decided to write it out in story form. There are things that I think Willow is thinking that she doesn't actually say in the episode, feelings I think need exploring but the show didn't even touch until much later. Then again, to cover everything Willow needs to work through would require a TV show all of its own! Lucky we have fanfic then, eh?

Dedicated to everyone who was pretty damn annoyed when Tara died.

Lessons

by Poto

"There is nothing to be done but we what we do ourselves..." Willow whispered, her hand lingering over a single, long blade of grass that she had gently coaxed from the earth. It grew longer than any of the other blades around it, twisting upwards until it almost reached the palm of her outstretched hand.

"There is nothing to be learned but that we seek to discover..." She chanted, her voice flat and listless. With her free hand she pulled a lock of her hair that had escaped from her ponytail up and behind her ears.

"There is nothing that dies that cannot be reborn..." Her voice cracked and failed. The blade of grass stopped it's upwards movement and stilled, moving only as the gentle breeze took it. Her hand shook but she kept it open, outstretched, trying not to break the last tendrils of the spell as she willed herself to concentrate.

It was only these small charms that she felt comfortable attempting these days. The coven encouraged her to work simple magicks, while at the same time looking at her with fearful eyes, watching every move she made as if at any moment she would turn and try to obliterate them all.

She couldn't bring herself to mouth the next line of the charm. The incantation was supposed to being her inner peace, to soothe the raging inside her that she felt when this awesome connection with the Earth became too much for her.

She coughed, clearing her throat. The catch in her voice remained. "There is no faith... but the faith you have in yourself..."

Her fingers trembled and she felt the blade of grass sink down once more, down into the soil from whence it came. She felt a strange almost-sigh as it returned to its natural state, like it was sending her some kind of gratitude.

The faces of the coven witches floated in her mind. They were good to her, and kinder than she had right to expect them to be. But it was funny that they were so frightened and she couldn't seem to care.

She knew Giles was watching her too, but for a completely different reason. He watched for signs that she was going to break down, run away, not hold up her end of the bargain that she'd made with him. She'd traded her freedom and endured months of teaching and learning and trying to capture that spark of essence that was herself again, and all for what? For the right to return and try to get her life back the way it was. All that loneliness and agony and remorse for the right to live again.

But the one who most deserved that right to live was gone, and no bargaining or teaching or re-birthing was going to change that.

She lifted herself up off her knees, taking in the rolling hillside that surrounded her spot of solitude. She walked here every day, twenty minutes from the house where she slept, ate, learned, and slept again. She could learn there. Here she could grieve.

Who would have guessed that Willow Rosenberg, scholar, witch, supposed genius, would find all that she required in a field away from civilisation with no way of contacting anyone, no way to be found? Only here could she find that place of peace where a dialogue with the woman she loved was possible. Tara existed here, in her own way.

"Willow?" A cautious voice interrupted her reverie.

"Giles. I didn't know you were coming up today."

"My meetings with the Watcher's Council ended earlier than I expected."

She stared at him, emotionless. "And?"

He stared, questioningly.

"Giles, I know what you were talking about at those meetings. I know why they asked you there." She turned away again, her eyes seeking out the furthest point on the horizon and fixing on it. "They wanted to talk to you about me."

He smiled. "Accidentally reading people's minds again?"

She bristled. "More like a 'knock before I come into the kitchen unless I want to interrupt something' discovery." She replied. "The coven were discussing it over a spot of bread making. Out loud."

He breathed out. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that to sound like an accusation."

She didn't respond.

He watched her staring out over the hills, she looked so pale and lifeless. Nothing like the young girl he'd known so well. He'd never known six years to change a person so much, so drastically. The only thing that hadn't changed was that she still wore her heart right out on her sleeve, with no pretence or guise. The very thing causing her so much pain was the thing that held her to her former self.

"I recommended to them that they simply do nothing."

Willow snorted at that, the smallest spark of interest crossing her face. "What could they really do Giles? Lock me up? There's no possible way." She sighed. "I'm not even as dangerous as they all think I am, not any more, but the fact that they're so scared of me means they won't touch me, just in case."

She turned to look at him, to see the truth of her words as he registered them.

He shrugged, not bothering to lie. "Yes, that about sums it up really."

She turned back and continued staring, so intently that Giles couldn't help wondering what she saw. "You still miss her just the same, I know." He could feel his words fall flat, redundant.

"It's not like just a piece of my soul is missing Giles, it's the whole damn thing." She whispered. "And it's taunting me too, like if I walk over there, over that next hill, she'll be sitting there waiting, with a picnic. Some apples. Maybe a sandwich. Waiting for me."

"But she isn't there. You know that."

"Somehow everyone seems to think I need reminding."

"It's just that..."

"Not now Giles, please." She shook her head. The spark of interest she'd had in the conversation waning rapidly. "I'm sorry, I just need to be alone right now."

He raised his arm to protest, but stopped, watching her turn further away, her shoulders slumped.

He reached inside his jacket and slowly pulled out an envelope, with Willow's name written on the outside in large, messy handwriting. He contemplated calling out to her, but didn't really know what to say, how to approach the enormity of what he held. The letter sat in his hand, a missive from Willow's friends, all wishing her well and filled with messages of love and forgiveness.

Now that he'd spent a few moments with her he wasn't completely sure she was ready for that. Her mind seemed to be still too fragile.

As he turned away Willow felt him leave, and breathed a small sigh of relief. She listened to his footsteps as far as she could before they faded into the background noise of nature. She let the warmth of the sun thread it's way through the air and onto her skin, allowing herself a brief moment of warmth. Then the coldness of her mood slipped back over her like a shroud.

"The quiet outside brings quiet within..." She whispered. At her feet was a patch of wildflowers. She bent over and picked the pink and purple ones, holding them bunched in her hands like a blushing bride. Willow took a few steps forward, then raised her arms and held them out, letting the flowers fall free and drift away on the wind.

Everything has a significance, they taught her. Nothing that comes to you is without meaning. She wondered what this all really meant, this anguish and loss, and above all, fear. Fear of who she was, and of who she wasn't any more. Fear of not knowing who she could be, without Tara.

"I just want to be Willow." She said, out loud as if the trees and grass were listening and judging. "I want to be just me."

She thought if she said it aloud often enough, maybe the spirit that was Tara would hear her, and understand, just like she always had in life. Maybe, somehow, she'd be there to lend a hand.

Willow stared over at the next hill. Somewhere behind there, she thought, she's waiting for me to figure it all out.

I hope I don't disappoint her.

THE END

Back to Poto's fiction index