The Northern Lights
Prologue
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Willow’s feet felt like lead as she made her way up the
front steps to the Summers’ porch and as she stood outside the front door she
hesitated. The last twenty-four hours had
just dragged on and on, she was exhausted, physically, mentally and
emotionally. She had sat in the empty
hotel lobby for the better part of the night, waiting for Angel. It was during those long hours that she had
organized her thoughts, deliberating over what she would say to him. But how did you tell someone that the love
of their life was dead? Willow had it
all prepared, the catch cries of comfort that she would use ~ a noble death,
she saved the world, it was the ultimate sacrifice. But she didn’t have to worry about that, Angel had known as soon
as he saw her and she would never forget the look on his face as he realized
that Buffy was dead.
Willow closed her eyes and dropped her head down, still not
able to bring herself to enter the house and face the others. Her shoulders and
neck ached from the hours she’d spent with Angel, hours that had been filled
with questions. They were the questions
that she had hoped he wouldn’t ask ~ was it a peaceful death? No…and she hated the fact that there was no
other answer she could give. Every
single moment Willow heard the Slayer’s screams, they seemed her constant
companions, and the blonde’s face, wretched with pain all through the fatal
swan dive, was always there whenever she closed her eyes. No, it hadn’t been a peaceful death, but it
was noble ~ she kept telling him that, told herself that, told anyone who asked
~ above all it was a noble death.
Raising her head, despite the agony of her protesting
muscles, Willow stared blankly at the front door of the house. Angel had wanted to know it all. Time and
time again they went over the battle scene, every little detail was relived
over and over to satisfy him and through the various retellings of the story she
could see the different effect it had on him.
At first there was disbelief, quickly replaced by a morbid curiosity,
then anger and finally, finally there was grief. Grief was something Willow could handle, she could offer comfort,
hold him close and listen to the pain.
At some time during the last few days she’d wrapped her arms about
everyone and as she stared at the door she had to open she wondered if she
would be able to do it tonight.
“There was nothing you could do,” Willow whispered to
herself. She had heard those words so
many times, said them herself, told them to others, but they cut her to the
core. Angel had said them in the form
of a question, there was nothing you could do?
Willow hadn’t been able to say anything ~ she wanted to say no, but she
couldn’t because as the smoke had cleared and she’d made her way over to the
fallen Slayer a million possibilities played through her mind, simple spells,
incantations that would have saved the young woman’s life. They were all so obvious to her, but it was
too late, the Slayer was dead. She
closed her eyes, wishing she could clear her mind of the doubt, of the guilt,
but it was overpowering and slowly corroding her very being. It seemed to her that she was drowning in
darkness that only she could see, a burden that she had to bear on her own.
Blindly reaching out, Willow went to grasp the door handle,
only to have it pulled from her reach as the door swung open. Bathed in bright light, Dawn stood before
her in the entranceway, her eyes and face red and swollen from crying.
“Willow?” Dawn asked as if lost in her own pain, then it was
if her world collapsed and the grief for her sister became too much for the
girl as she turned blindly away, stumbling back into the light and sobbing.
Without a moments hesitation Willow followed her, catching up and wrapping her
arms about the sobbing girl, all the while guiding her to the security of the
large soft sofa in the living room.
“Shhh,” Willow murmured softly as she rocked her gently and
stroked her long hair. Without breaking
her hold on Dawn, she spared the others a quick glance, they were all there ~
Giles and Tara were standing together on the other side of the room, silent and
grey, while Spike lurked in a corner, he seemed almost doubled over and she
couldn’t clearly see his face for the shadows.
“It’s alright…”
“I…” Tara began to say something, but for some reason she
stopped.
“Perhaps we should start dinner,” Giles suggested quietly,
firstly consulting Tara before looking to Willow for confirmation. Silently she nodded and watched as the two
made their way out of the room. It
seemed eerily silent, except for the continued sobs of the girl in her arms and
Willow once more made the nonsensical shushing sound, more to calm herself than
Dawn.
“I killed her, didn’t I?” the question was so softly spoken
from the brunette that Willow wasn’t certain that she’d hear her, but the
guilt-ridden words continued. “She
shouldn’t have died, my blood opened the vortex, she should have let my blood
close it…she should still be here, we need her, Sunnydale needs her…I…I need
her…it’s all my fault, if I hadn’t…”
“Dawnie, please don’t talk like that,” Willow felt the lump
in her throat as she stared into the darkness of the shadows and continued to
stroke the girl’s hair. “You know you meant the world to her.”
“How could I?” Dawn demanded, pulling back from the embrace,
breaking it. Willow wished she hadn’t,
there was nothing but pain in the bloodshot eyes that met hers. “I’m not even real, I’m just something some
stupid monks called into existence, a vessel, that’s all I am, that’s all I’ve
ever been, and she shouldn’t have died because of me!”
“Honey, you were so much more to her than that,” Willow knew
the truth behind her words and she reached out, offering comfort through physical
touch. “You’re her sister and she loved you, she loved you so very much.”
“But why did she have to die?” the question was so seemingly
innocent, so simple and yet there was nothing Willow could say to answer it
sufficiently and Dawn shook her head, fresh tears once more falling. “It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair.”
“I know, baby,” Willow stated, running her hand once more
over the thick soft hair that graced the child’s head. Then those tear filled eyes turned and fixed
on her.
“Why couldn’t you have done anything?”
“What?” Willow felt as if she’d been slapped. At first she wasn’t certain that she’d heard
her correctly, however there was a movement in the shadows and she knew that
she hadn’t been the only one to hear the damning question.
“Dawn,” Spike rumbled from across the room, but Dawn’s eyes
grew cold as she stared at the redhead.
“You were her power, she said that, I remember her saying
that,” she said softly, but her voice had taken on a note of ice, of that cold,
forbidding hysteria. “You could hurt
Glory, you were the only one and Buffy needed you.”
“And I did all I could to weaken Glory,” Willow stated, her
breath catching in the back of her throat as the room closed in on her.
“Yes,” hissed Dawn, her voice was low and venomous. “But where were you after that? You do your little bit and then went running
off to your precious Tara. You left
Buffy alone.”
Willow stared blankly at the girl, from the corner of her
eye she caught sight of Giles reentering the room and she wondered why he’d
come back ~ had he heard the accusation?
The hairs on the back of her neck started to rise, perhaps they had all
been discussing it while she had been gone…perhaps they had all come to the
same conclusion as she had.
“Buffy had a plan,” Willow stated, telling them what she had
been telling herself for the last few days.
“And I executed my part of it.”
“That’s not all you executed,” spat Dawn, getting off the
couch but never taking her eyes off the witch.
“Dawn,” Giles spoke sharply, but there was no conviction to
his voice ~ it was empty, devoid of all emotions. “That’s enough.”
“No it’s not!” yelled Dawn, turning her head to stare
vehemently at the Watcher. “You were
all raving about what a powerful witch Willow is, don’t tell me you didn’t
think about it yourselves. How hard would it have been for her? She could have done something, but she
didn’t,” she spat out the accusation and turned back to the pale redhead who
still sat on the couch. “Did you
Willow? All you cared about was stupid,
pathetic Tara and you let Buffy die!”
Willow couldn’t speak, she couldn’t say a word in her own
defense and yet nobody else in the room said anything either.
“I don’t want you here,” Dawn stated, her voice had dropped back
down to a low murmur, but with every word she spoke it became louder. “I don’t want my sister’s murderer under my
roof. Get out, get out, GET OUT!”
With the final feral scream, Dawn turned on her heel and
ran, almost colliding with Tara at the base of the stairs as she came out of
the kitchen to see what all the fuss was about.
“Dawn, sweetie?” Tara shot Willow a puzzled look before
following the girl upstairs.
Downstairs there was stunned silence and Willow remained
stock still on the sofa. No one said
anything, no one had said anything and she struggled to remember to
breathe. Did they all think the same
thing? She stood shakily, her legs
threatening to let her down just as the silence of the room did.
“Willow,” Giles was the first to speak, but he didn’t move,
didn’t even look up from the spot he was studying on the carpet and Willow
didn’t want to hear what he would say, so she spoke instead ~ using the words
she had offered to everyone else.
“I know ~ she’s upset…she didn’t mean it,” Willow stated
blandly as she stared blindly at the empty stairs.
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“I…” Willow struggled to find the words, but she
couldn’t. Instead she dropped her head
down and wrapped her arms about herself, wondering about her own doubts and misgivings. “I think it’s best that I don’t stay here
tonight, give her some space…some time.”
“Perhaps that would be a good idea,” said Giles, nodding
slightly.
“Yes,” Willow murmured, turning away she didn’t even bother
to look back as she walked away, relieved to be able to walk out of the
house. She didn’t even hear the door
close behind her or the footsteps that followed. So it was a shock when halfway back to the college dormitory a
cool hand wrapped about her arm and stopped her.
“You know she didn’t mean it, Red,” Spike voice was
unusually raspy, like he’d smoked at least ten cartons of cigarettes in one
sitting. But his face told the real
story behind the infliction of his voice, shadows pooled beneath his eyes and
his skin was taught and even paler than usual, grey, ashen. “There was nothing anyone could do…not you
or me, Buffy chose…”
“Don’t…” Willow barked out, pulling her arm free of his
clumsy hold and she bought her hand up, pointing at him, trying to drive home
the point. “I’ve spent the last twenty
four hours reliving every single second of what happened, don’t you dare start
on about who made the choices or…or…” Her hand dropped back down and she turned
away from him, shaking her head and closing her eyes, reigning in her pain and
confusion. “Just don’t.”
“Little bit’s angry, she’s blaming anyone and everyone.
Before you got back it was Tara and Giles, last night it was me. You were a new target. She’s scared, Red, and she’s hurting. No excuse for what she said, but you can’t take
it to heart…” Spike stated, but Willow was already walking away from him, her
own guilt as heavy a burden as his and he repeated the words that she’d told
him so many times. “You can’t blame
yourself, love.”
But Willow didn’t hear him, she only heard questions and
accusations. Even as she found the sanctuary of her own dorm room, her own
doubt plagued her, gnawed at her. Dawn
didn’t want her sister’s murderer anywhere near her and Willow couldn’t blame
her, she could understand that the girl needed her space and needed to be
surrounded by those people who loved her ~ not someone who she felt was to
blame.
Was she to blame?
Once more she heard Angel’s question, there was nothing you could
do? Had he known what Dawn knew, what
she herself knew? Willow glanced about
her room. It was littered with magic books and every one of them held any
number of spells that would have prevented the Slayer’s death. If she had the knowledge and she hadn’t used
it, did that make her negligent, was she to blame for something that could have
been so easily prevented?
Willow blinked. For
the first time she couldn’t see the Slayer’s face, instead in the darkness she
saw the strange strangled image that she had been staring at. Opening her eyes, they settled once more on
one of her favorite posters in her room ~ a beautiful photograph of the
Northern Lights. Without thought she
stripped off her clothes, quickly changing into jeans and shrugging on an old
sweater, before grabbing another pair of jeans and a few shirts, stuffing them
into her backpack. Boots were donned and she pulled on her old denim
jacket. Picking up the backpack, she
headed for the door and then hesitated.
Looking back over her shoulder, she quickly moved back to her bedside
table, picking up a notebook that was crammed full of spells and incantations
and ripping open the drawer to grab the money she’d been keeping there.
Without a backward glance or another thought, Willow walked out of her dorm room, leaving the door wide open, and literally walked out of Sunnydale.
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