To The Edge parts 1-7

Part 1
The rocks of Alderley Edge had stood the weatherings of time. For an age, and since before that, they had stood proudly looking over the green, flat Cheshire plains. Some said that the views were the finest of the English countryside to be seen; certainly the Edge had that noble seat for gazing over the precipice into a cavernous, dizzying drop that led down to tiny farmhouses, looking like toys in a child's play box. But the Edge had another, deeper, more mystical relevance to the people of Cheshire. It was said that Merlin and his cohorts often frequented the area. In the foggy spring nights and early mornings, a faint figure had often been glimpsed through the thick nestle of trees shadowing the Edge. When the dawn chorus signified the break of day, farm workers had claimed to catch a sight of a cloaked, bearded figure stalking the pathways that wove in and out of the forests like absent-minded walkways, always disappearing near the Edge itself. Merlin, it was said, was a regular visitor to the Edge, and the reason why was as much a part of local tapestry as the rocks themselves.

The legend of Alderley Edge was steeped in the medieval history of the area itself. One October day a farmer was riding his prize steed to sell at Macclesfield fair. The horse would fetch a fine price, and the farmer was proud and excited at the thought of proving his worth to the local gentry. The morning was mild, and light mists crept on cat feet across the pathway in front of him. As he drew near to the place known as Thieves' Hole, the horse stopped and would go no further, nor draw back. In the middle of the pathway, an old man, tall with long hair and a beard, stood in front of him. He cast an admiring glance at the horse and offered to buy it. But the farmer ordered him out of the way, convincing himself that surely such a stranger would not be able to afford such a horse.

Market day in Macclesfield was busy, and the farmer arrived with great expectations. However, he left, as the vendors were packing away their unsold goods, with disappointment in his heart. Not a single buyer had been found for the horse, although the farmer had received many an admiring glance. He set out for home, and, sure enough, when he reached Thieves' Hole, there was the old man, again set boldly in the middle of the pathway.

The farmer, thinking that any price was better than none, offered his horse to the old man, who nodded in agreement and led him away into the forests. When they reached a huge rock, the old man lifted his staff, lightly touched the rock and watched as it split in two with a sound of thunder. Too frightened to run away, the farmer led his horse down a narrow tunnel, following the old man to a pair of iron gates. Beyond them, a pale and mystical light led them down into a cavern where an amazing sight met the farmer's gaze.

One hundred and forty knights in silver armour lay in front of him. By the side of all but one, a milk white steed. "They lie in enchanted sleep," said the wizard, "until a day will come when England shall be in direst peril, and then out from the hill they will ride, and in a battle thrice lost and thrice won, will drive the enemy away."

The farmer gave his horse to the wizard and, once turning into yet another cavern, found a mound of gold and silver, jewels and precious stones. He crammed his pockets full of whatever he could carry and stumbled back up the passage towards daylight. The thunder rolled, he looked and saw only the rock where the wizard had opened the door to the nether realm. He was alone, a rich man, by the foot of the Edge in Alderley.

In his later life, he tried many times to find the place again, but never did. No one after him ever saw the iron gates, or the cavern full of soldiers. But the myth of Merlin, protector of Arthur's army lived on at the Edge, and still does to this day.

Manchester, present day

Willow squinted out of the tiny window in the plane as it squealed to halt, bumping its way onto solid ground. Her face dropped as she was aware of the mists gathering around the huge bulk, faint yet threatening as they streamed across the runway and the fields beyond. They had been above the clouds for so long, she had half expected the bright sunshine to break the cloud barrier with them, its heat warming their journey across the Atlantic. But once the descent had begun, she had felt the buffeting of heavy rain clouds and miserable weather against the plane, and, despite her carefree attitude to flying, she wished once again that there was a different mode of transport.

She turned to the slight figure sitting beside her, head bowed forwards, eyes squeezed tight shut. A faint smile crossed her face, and she had thought she was a bad traveller… Her hand crept to the blonde hair covering the hunched shoulder.

"We're down." She said, trying to keep the grin out of her voice.

Tara turned her head slowly and looked up at her from her forward position. The expression on her face warmed Willow's heart; after a whole year together, Tara never failed to adopt 'cute' and 'needy' as her by-lines. Willow gently squeezed at the arm that was clenched against the side of the seat. "Hey…okay?" a note of concern crept into her voice. She remembered the conversation that they'd had before making this trip. A long string of hours in a plane wasn't fun for either of them, never having been great travellers before, but they had decided on a trip to England and had followed it through.

The night they had gotten their tickets, they had both sat on Tara's bed in her dorm, grinning foolishly at one another. Their first holiday together; that was kind of special, Tara had muttered, not wanting to over emphasise the 'coupledom' they had entered.

Willow recalled the way that Tara's eyes had glowed as she had extolled the mystical virtue of the country. Not so much a holiday as a spiritual journey, she had added. The way she talked about it had enthused Willow to such an extent that she had gone into research mode, and was now a considered expert on the many myths and legends surrounding British culture. Besides, once they had mentioned it to Giles, he had blithely sat them down and worked out a whole list of places they should visit. He had even given the name of an old family friend who, he assured them, would welcome them into her home with true English hospitality. His generosity had been hard to refuse, and the two girls soon found themselves fixed up with, not only a personal tour guide, but also a place to stay. As Tara justified it to Willow when the redhead had grumbled about Giles 'taking over', at least it meant spending less money on hotels.

All this seemed secondary now, as they sat motionless whilst other passengers fumbled and scrambled to be the first out of the door. Willow had grabbed the window seat, whilst Tara had been sat next to a rather portly, loud Texan who had insisted on telling her his own life story, that of his parents, and his grandparents. Tara being Tara, had nodded at the right intervals, and made appreciative noises at the numbers and names he threw her way. She had pretended not to mind when he called her 'little lady' and had even cooed over pictures of his English grandchildren. When he had left to search for the bathroom, she turned on Willow with a glare.

"Okay, explain to me again why you got the window seat?"

Willow couldn't help giggling; Tara riled was something of a rarity. "I need to see the view."

"Right." Tara nodded, looking past Willow out of the window, "Clouds…sky…uh…more clouds…and, oh yeah, sky."

"I like to see what's happening." Willow adopted her 'puppy' face, knowing that Tara couldn't resist that look.

"Oh no," Tara grabbed her hand, "You don't get past me that easily Rosenberg….not with the old puppy face again….it won't work this time." Her voice was hard, but the dancing light in her azure eyes assured Willow that she didn't mean a word of it.

"Yeah it will." Willow nodded, a lock of auburn hair flopping into her eyes. Pushing it back, she leant closer and squeezed at Tara's fingers, "Besides, when we get there, I'll make it up to you."

A faint flush spread over Tara's face and a gentle smile curved her full lips. "Really?" she murmured, moving closer to Willow, pushing at the stray lock of hair with soft fingers that trailed their way down the other girl's cheek. "How're you gonna do that then?"

Willow wiggled her eyebrows and snickered, leaning forward and planting a kiss on the blonde girl's cheek. "The usual way…like I always make things up to you…the way you like…" her voice dropped to a deeper, more sensuous octave, caressing Tara's mind like a kiss. Tara was about to answer her, when the Texan returned, practically falling into his chair and relaunching into the story he had just finished telling when he left. Tara sighed inwardly and leant away from her girlfriend, giving Willow a hard glare, just to remind her that she had a lot of making up to do.

And now, they were finally down. Tara had to check twice out of the window before her body relaxed back into the less than comfortable seat that had been her home for the last god knows how many hours. She stretched her legs out in front of her and tried to work some of the kinks out of her back, only threatening to give herself cramp in the process.

"That's not a trip I'm looking forward to on the way home." She commented to Willow, glancing at the scurry of passengers towards the front of the plane. Pushing the hair out of her face, she sighed deeply and shook her head. They hadn't slept, and it seemed, quite suddenly, as though time was catching up on them. Stifling a yawn, Tara stood up and tried to find the balance in her legs. Swaying backwards, Willow put her arms around her and giggled. Tara blushed again. Even after all this time, she still had to get used to physical contact on a regular and spontaneous basis.

The two witches reached up and grabbed their holdalls from the overhead lockers. They followed the line of chattering passengers to the front of the plane where the huge door opened onto a rather rickety platform leading up to the main building of the airport.

Stepping onto it, Willow breathed in the fresh air. Funny, she thought to herself, it tastes of something…like there's something in the air…indefinable….but still there, just the same. She turned to look at Tara, noticing that the blonde witch had her face turned towards the breeze rushing at them. A slight nod inclined Willow's head. Tara felt it too. As their eyes met, a tingle of acknowledgement flickered between them.

"I know." Tara grinned, grabbing Willow's hand as they walked up the incline towards the main building. "Different isn't it?"

"I hardly expected the air to be powerful around here though…" Willow began, then shook her head, "although when I'm with you nothing really surprises me anymore." She shared a smile with her girlfriend and squeezed the linked hands between them. "I just hope that whatever's around this area doesn't try to work some kinda dark mojo on us."

Tara couldn't help laughing at Willow's tone. "It's Britain Will….I sorta don't think they go in for dark mojo over here." She paused for a second before adding, “Unless it’s really polite and restrained mojo.”

The terminal was busy with holidaymakers impatiently clambering over each other to claim baggage. The lazy carousel turned and returned, bringing with it the same lonely suitcase, or a screaming bright backpack, all belonging to someone, somewhere. Amidst the cacophony, Willow and Tara hung back, deciding that entering into the foray wouldn't be a good idea right now. Besides, they were in no hurry to meet the infamous Mrs Betts, or 'Cookie' as Giles had called her.

One of the reasons they had decided on England for a holiday was because Giles had sung its praises high and low. Urging them to discover their Wiccan roots, he had promised them hospitality care of his now aged former cook. His eyes had wistfully glazed over as he retold many a story of Cookie and how she had nurtured his family, Watcher style. She was indispensable, he had said, and though she was no longer in the employ of the Council, she still kept a hand in with the Slayer gossip. A part of the 'old school' of housekeeping, Cookie had been responsible for Giles' familial home, in more ways than one. She kept a strict house, he had said, and could be 'a bit of a dragon' at times. Willow and Tara hoped against hope that that particular part was a metaphor. But, Giles had insisted, when he had contacted her prior to their visit, she had been only too happy to offer a place to stay when they eventually arrived. He had patted both of them on the shoulder and told them that they were 'in for a treat'. Knowing Giles, Willow mused now as she was buffeted by people in the arrivals lounge, that could mean anything from daily beatings to bread and butter for dinner…still, she reminded herself, it was kind of the old dear to put them up. Even if it did mean that she and Tara wouldn't be alone. A sigh crept out of her and slumped her shoulders. Alone. As a couple. She dearly hoped that they would be allowed to be just that. With some old crone looking over their shoulder all the time, it just didn't seem possible…

"Willow?" Tara's voice jerked her back into reality. She realised that most of the crowd had dissipated, leaving them with a practically empty carousel and a rather loud family from LA, as they kept reminding the airport worker who had been lumbered with showing them to the arrivals lounge.

"Huh?" she turned, "Oh…sorry Tar…kinda drifted off into Willow-land there…"

"I got our things." Tara gestured to two extremely large suitcases piled on a trolley. Why had she let Buffy pack their things? She groaned inwardly; that girl might be the Slayer, but she did nothing for minimisation on the clothes front.

"Oh…great." she mustered up some enthusiasm. "Guess it's time to meet the dragon lady then."

Tara shrugged, "Come on, she might not be that bad, I mean, Mr Giles was a boy and all…"

"No," Willow corrected her, "Giles was born middle aged. His youth was just a fiction of our imagination."

They slowly wheeled the trolley towards the main terminal, still quite busy with meeting and greeting couples and families. The blast of air conditioning hit them with a warm sickly feel, which did nothing for their jetlag. As they turned a corner and crossed the barrier into the cavernous, brightly lit airport, Willow reached for Tara's hand again. Tara squeezed it and grinned at her. She's loving this, thought Willow, a flash of tenderness crossing her heart, she's really excited. So why aren't I? After all they'd been through in the last year, a trip to England should have been a breeze for them both. I'm probably just tired, she told herself, I always get cranky when I'm tired. I just need a good sleep…her eyes crept across to the blonde girl beside her. A good long sleep in Tara's arms, that oughta do the trick just nicely.

Stopping by a plant pot filled with plastic ferns, Willow let go of Tara's hand and scrabbled in her backpack for the instructions Giles had so carefully written. His scrawling handwriting covered the now tattered piece of paper that Willow had checked at least twenty times on the flight over. Mrs Betts. Housekeeper extraordinaire. Meet by the coffee shop in Terminal 2. Her gaze swept the lounge…coffee shop…ah, there it was.

"Now we're supposed to meet Mrs Betts over - "

"Willow? Tara?" a voice reached them before they could move. Their eyes fell on a short, bustling woman who was swiftly crossing the lounge towards them. She wore a simple dress that was cut flatteringly to her large figure. A plain beige jacket led up to a round face that was split by the largest smile each girl had ever seen. Mrs Betts had grey hair, swept back and up behind her head, but that was the only clue to her age. She didn't look like a dragon, Tara thought. In fact…she looked kinda…well, nice.

Mrs Betts was half-laughing at the two girls as she reached them, holding out her hand. "You are Willow and Tara aren't you?"

They nodded dumbly as she grabbed their hands in turn and pumped enthusiastically. "Oh I'm so happy to meet you both!" her voice was seemingly loud, even in this busy place; tinged with an accent neither girl could quite place. "Young Mr Giles has told me so much about you both!" She nestled in between them, placing her hands on the trolley and giving it a forceful nudge forward, leading them towards the exit doors. Willow and Tara stood over her by at least 20 centimetres, and mouthed 'young?' to each other over her head, their laughter barely controlled.

"Welcome to England!" she enthused, taking them out of the doors and across to the vast multi-storey car park. "I hope the flight over wasn't too taxing for you?" she looked with piercing grey eyes at Tara, who flinched under her questing stare.

"Uh…" Tara mumbled, quite unsure of what to say to this explosion of life in front of her. "Um…"

"It was kinda long." Willow filled in, knowing how Tara was with direct questions from strangers. Though, she comforted herself, Mrs Betts wasn't half as scary as Giles made her out to be. She felt herself warming to the little woman in front of her, and grinned, "And kinda hot."

"Ah well…" Mrs Betts tutted to herself and shook her head, "I never did once meet a witch who travelled well on conventional transport."

The stunned silence between the two girls as they exchanged looks brought a bright smile to her face and she let out a short laugh like a gunshot report. "Oh…that young Mr Giles…" She exclaimed, "Of course he told me all about your powers…not that I'm judging at all, not at all." She waited whilst a car passed then led them over the entrance ramp to a line of parked cars, "Used to practise myself y'know. Oh yes…" she looked nostalgic for a second, "Was quite the little Wiccan in my day."

Following her to a bright red, modern estate car, Willow and Tara gulped in unison. A proper old witch? Well, that was one detail Giles had left out. They were going to stay with a witch. A slow smile crept over Willow's face…things could only get better.

Mrs Betts opened the trunk of the car and lifted the two suitcases in, handling them as if they were as light as a feather. Her strong frame pushed them into place then closed the door with a resounding 'thunk'.

"Now then." She turned to the two witches and flashed them a bright smile. "We'd better see about getting you two home." Her gaze fell on the trolley beside the car, then flickered around the car park, searching for other bodies. Seeing no one nearby, she held out her hand, touching the trolley, and muttered something under her breath. With a slight popping noise, the trolley just…disappeared. Mrs Betts nodded her head in thanks and recognition and grinned at the two girls.

Tara's mouth dropped open and she stared at the woman beside her. Willow blinked twice before letting out a slow breath. "Cool…" she whispered.

"Well…" Mrs Betts turned to unlock the car, "I find that these days the old legs aren't as young as they used to be. I need a little help now and then." She opened the rear door and ushered the girls into the seat, "I'll be seventy three next May…pushing trollies around car parks just seems like a waste of my time." She got into the driver's seat, grunting as she pushed her frame into the car. Clamping both hands around the steering wheel, she glanced into the rear view window. Giles had been right about these two…they were definitely in need of some training. A faint smile turned the corners of her mouth, no one had ever said that Edith Betts didn't like a challenge. Perhaps she'd make something of them yet. "Ready then girls?" she asked, switching on the engine and revving the car unnecessarily. This might just be enjoyable, she told herself.

Part 2
During the journey from the airport, Mrs Betts had cheerfully encouraged both girls to talk about Sunnydale and their experiences so far. She had the knack of bringing them out of themselves, so much so, that, despite their fatigue, Willow and Tara were soon chatting away to Mrs Betts as if they had known her all their lives. She was indeed a fascinating woman, who recounted snippets of her past life as Watcher's housekeeper, then changed the subject instantly to point out places and landmarks of interest to the two witches as they sped by in the car.

After about twenty minutes, the girls both gazed out of their respective windows at the green countryside flashing by. Sure, they had trees in Sunnydale, and those English style cottages too, but Willow was convinced that she had never seen anything more lovely than the streets and buildings that emerged from verdant green for an instant, before a canopy of leaves and bowing trees hid them again. She settled back into the seat with a sigh, this was gonna be real interesting, she told herself. Who'd have thought that 'young Mr Giles' (she sniggered to herself…that was one to tell Buffy when she got back) would have been looked after by a witch? Sure explained a lot about him and those dusty spell books around his house.

Almost subconsciously her hand reached for Tara's and she held it gently, her eyes turning to meet the other girl's in a smile. Tara grinned, hunching up her shoulders in an excited movement. Their expectations had already been raised by about two hundred per cent, and neither of them could begin to imagine what the house of a real live witch would be like. They had both tried to introduce some kind of Wiccan theme to their rooms, but, being teenagers, and students as well, had sort of failed miserably in the 'create an aura of calm' stage, when crystals and spell books had been hidden under half- finished papers and timetables for next semester.

Mrs Betts suddenly swerved the car in a sharp left turn, jolting both girls into the present and tumbling them against each other in the back seat. They saw a huge sign telling them that this was the renowned 'Mottram Hall' as the car began its route up a long, winding road.

As the road eventually widened into an entrance courtyard, Tara caught her breath at the sight that loomed before her. A huge mansion occupied most of the space in front of them. Its aged façade reached up towards the sky, supported, it seemed by four white pillars that cradled the ornate, triangular roof to the doors below. The hall was perfectly symmetrical, vast windows reflecting the greenery that arched around the back of the courtyard. A stone staircase led up to the wooden doors, flanked by marble cherubs ready for flight. It was simply amazing. Looking across at Willow, Tara could see that the redhead's mouth was slightly parted, her breath suspended in admiration.

Mrs Betts swung the car around to the left hand side of the building and began to drive into a car park, filled with expensive and gleaming autos. Jaguars, Porches, Rolls Royces….all neatly lined up in rows next to each other. Observing the look on both girls' faces, she let out another of her single, gunshot laughs. "Oh I know what you're thinking," she said, "This is where all the guests stay."

"G-guests?" Tara echoed.

"Naturally." Mrs Betts answered; heading the car to another, yet smaller car park, where older and rather more battered cars nestled against the cobbled wall of the hall. "This is Mottram Hall Hotel…one of the finest in the area, if I do say so meself." She slowed down and brought the car to a standstill near a low outhouse building, with whitewashed walls and one storey. "You didn't think I lived there did you?" Yet another laugh escaped her mouth, "No girls… I live here in the cottage. The owners of the hotel employ me to keep the other staff in line. Sort of a manager, if you like. I just work here." She sniffed loudly, "Not like the old days now you know. Money's to be made in these ancient buildings."

Twisting around in her seat she fixed her grey eyes on the two girls, listening intently to her every word, "These visitors pay hundreds of pounds to spend a single night here." Her lips pursed in disdain, "And someone's always waiting to rake it in. If only I could go back to the old days when a housekeeper really was a housekeeper…" she trailed off, a wistful look entering her eyes.

"Still," she announced briskly, "I need a place to live and young people these days need teaching a thing or two about keeping a tight ship. It's my job to keep the rest of the staff in line….give them some training so to speak. So I live here in my little cottage. Don't worry, it's quite private. We won't be disturbed." Another sniff, "And if we are there'll be hell to pay!" She flung open the door with a dramatic gesture and went around to the back of the car to claim the suitcases.

Willow looked across at Tara and raised her eyebrows in wonder. "Hell to pay…" she said, "Wonder if she's talking like, for real?"

The low ceilings of the cottage let in little light. The dim atmosphere was brightened somewhat by a fire burning merrily in the grate of the living room. Scattered around were thick cotton rugs, partially covering the stone floors that expanded to meet wooden panelling on the walls. A couple of cosy armchairs flanked a huge, dark couch that faced the fire. On the mantle sat little wooden statues of Pan and like creatures. Apart from the crackling of the fire, the only other sound was the slow tick of a huge clock in the corner of the room.

Tara and Willow instantly loved the place. They stood in front of the fire, warming themselves from the deceptively cold air outside whilst Mrs Betts bustled off to the kitchen to 'put the kettle on' as she called it. Her whole demeanour indicated that she was actually quite pleased to have two such houseguests, and her first demand had been that they 'treat the place as a second home', which they thankfully noted.

As they stood letting the warmth from the fire drift over them, they heard a voice in the kitchen wafting their way. Mrs Betts was talking out loud, sounded like to another person. Her whole tone was conversational, although they couldn't hear a reply, and hadn't she just said that the place was rarely visited?

Tara cast a questioning look across at Willow, who shrugged and twirled a finger around near her temple in a 'she's crazy' way. Tara sniggered and shushed her as Mrs Betts returned to the room.

"Well then," she rubbed her hands together, shedding her jacket onto a hook near the kitchen door. "I think introductions are necessary." She glanced back into the kitchen, gesturing with her hand, "Come on, no need to be shy," she called.

As she spoke, a low grey shadow loped from the doorway, padded once around Willow and Tara, then leapt onto one of the armchairs, where it sat viewing them through golden eyes.

"This is Brid." Mrs Betts announced, pointing at the cat. "And these," she pointed back towards Willow and Tara, "are our houseguests."

The cat cast a distinctly disinterested gaze across the two girls, and they felt as though they were somehow being inspected. It reached forward, sniffed the air, whiskers tickling towards them, then shifted its position slightly, and began licking at one of its paws.

"Don't pay any attention to her." Mrs Betts smiled, "She's not the most sociable of animals, but she'll take to you soon enough. And before you say anything, I know how this must look, an old Wiccan with a cat. But Brid is more company than anything else…had her for nine years now and she's the best friend an old duffer like me could ask for."

"She's gorgeous!" Willow exclaimed, moving forward, then stopped, her hand outstretched. "Can I…I mean, does she like to be…"

"Oh go right ahead." Mrs Betts waved her hand dismissively, "Brid's like most cats and craves attention, especially of the affectionate kind."

In an instant, both girls were on their knees in front of the cat, rubbing away at her silky fur, behind the ears, under her chin. Brid's statement didn't change, but a low growling purr began escaping from her throat. She pushed her head up underneath Tara's palm and half-closed her eyes in delight. Willow thought fondly of Miss Kitty, how she had yowled angrily at them when they'd taken her to Buffy's moms for the summer.

Joyce had assured them that she'd take good care of her, even though it was most likely that Miss Kitty would spend the summer returning to her real home at Tara's dorm. No one envied Joyce the job of convincing the cat that the girls were gone temporarily, as Miss Kitty had spent the last few days before their departure pointedly ignoring the both of them. At least, Willow told herself, they'd have a substitute whilst they were here.

"Now then," Mrs Betts grabbed their suitcases, one in each hand. "I'll show you to your room."

"Oh…let me…" Tara half-heartedly moved towards the suitcases but Mrs Betts shrugged her off by turning away.

"No, no," the woman said sharply, though not unkindly, "You are guests, and I insist. Besides," she added, leading them to a tiny door at one side of the room, "I'm not so old that I can't lift a couple of suitcases at my age. Keeps the body fit and the mind active!"

Willow came to stand behind Tara as the woman led them up a steep wooden stairway leading into relative darkness. She touched the blonde girl's shoulder to catch her attention and grinned. "Can't you just see Buffy going the same way at seventy three?" Tara giggled in response and playfully slapped her hand.

A corridor at the top of the stairs led to two doorways to the left, and one to the right. Mrs Betts took them down it to a room that was below the level of the passageway. Walking down two steps, the girls were greeted by a cosy yet functional bedroom. Placing the suitcases on the floor, Mrs Betts turned and put her hands on her hips, puffing out her cheeks and letting out a sigh.

"This is your room. Mine's at the other end of the house. Bathroom in between."

Looking around, Tara was struck by one glaring fact. The room only had one bed. A huge, sunken double bed. This was…their room? As in, for two people? A couple? A flush began to make its way down from her scalp, prickling across her cheeks.

"You should be quite comfy in here. At least, most visitors are…not that I have too many these days." Mrs Betts was saying. "Well then, I suppose you girls would like some sleep after your journey, you both look tired. I'll make you a hot cup of cocoa if you like and you can get ready for bed." She cast a glance over their down turned faces and then across to the bed, then back at the two of them. An amused expression flickered over her face for a second. Good job that young Mr Giles had clued her in on these two…getting them to admit to anything would have been like pulling teeth. Not, of course, that she hadn't enjoyed a good tooth-pulling session before now…

"Now now," she walked towards the bedroom door, "We'll have none of that modesty here. I believe in calling a spade a spade. Young Mr Giles made it perfectly clear that you two are more than friends, and I'll treat you as such."

Willow met Tara's eyes and almost laughed out loud. Tara looked as if she wanted the earth to open up and swallow her. At least there was one person in the room who was more embarrassed than she was…

"Uh…thank you Mrs Betts…." Willow said, her voice shaking.

"Call me Cookie, everyone does." The woman said graciously. "You'll take me as you find me, and I shall do the same with you." she added, as she turned her back on the two witches, still talking as she lumbered down the corridor, "None of that judgmental attitude here y'know…" Her voice faded as she thumped decisively down the stairs.

For a second neither girl spoke.

Then Willow flung herself on the bed and hugged her arms around her in glee. Her deep green eyes glistened across at Tara, whilst her mouth opened, shut again, then opened once more to let out a low squeal of delight.

"Tara!"

Tara scrambled onto the bed and let Willow hug her ecstatically, feeling, as always, the other girl's energy flow into and through her. She put her arms around the redhead, holding her close for a second before all of her reactions bubbled up at once. When the two girls leant back from one another, they began to speak in their usual fashion, finishing each other's sentences and almost talking over one another.

"Oh my God!" Willow cried, "Did she just say…"

"…what I think she said?" Tara finished, pushing back a strand of hair that had fallen over her shoulder.

"This is like, amazing…I mean…that thing with the trolley at the airport!"

"And that cat!"

"She's a witch, and a darn good one too." Willow said decisively.

"And we've got a double bed…" Tara's voice dropped imperceptibly.

"In a private cottage…" Willow responded, moving ever so slightly closer.

"At the other end of the house to her room."

"So big on the noise reduction there then."

"And she knows…about us." Tara finished the conversation by pressing her lips against Willow's, tasting for what seemed like the first time in days the sweetness of the redhead's mouth.

"Mmmm…" Willow murmured against the full lips on hers, "More please…" Tara put her arms around Willow and pushed her fingers up into her hair, feeling the softness of the gossamer threads falling through her hands. She nibbled at Willow's lower lip, sucking it into her mouth slightly, then letting it fall back. Willow's tongue ran along her upper lip, then her lower, then probed gently into her mouth, meeting Tara's own tongue in a sensuous caress. Sighing deeply, Tara pulled Willow against her, a sudden passion rising so that their teeth clashed against the others in a hard, strong embrace.

Pulling back, Willow smiled lazily at her girlfriend, running a thumb over Tara's moistened mouth, noticing again how dark Tara's eyes shaded when she was aroused. She moved back into the embrace and planted a kiss firmly on Tara's mouth before moving back, standing up and, she couldn't help herself, yawning. The blonde witch followed suit and shook her head.

"Ugh…that journey's catching up on me." She stretched her arms above her head, noticing that the redhead gazed at her figure appreciatively as she did so. Smiling, she lowered her arms, noticing something in the doorway. Walking over, she picked up a tray with two steaming cups of hot chocolate on it, and a small plate with some cookies. "I really hope Mrs Betts brought this up here with magick just now." A shy smile broadened her lips.

Willow walked across the room to join her and picked up one of the cups, sipping at it and licking her lips. She took one of the cookies, returning to the vast expanse of the bed and munched on it thoughtfully. Crossing her legs, she looked over to where Tara stood uncertainly with the tray in her hands.

"Tar…she's really cool." She said, swallowing the mouthful of cookie and taking another sip of hot chocolate. "Like…really cool. In a witch way." She took another bite of the cookie and munched loudly.

"Yeah…she is." Tara agreed, moving to sit on the bed beside her, placing the tray onto the bedside chest of drawers. "I guess it's pretty convenient that Mr Giles got her to let us stay here."

Willow gestured in the air with the remaining piece of cookie, scattering crumbs over the soft patchwork eiderdown. She frowned as she chewed faster, trying to empty her mouth as quickly as she could. "Not…" She struggled to speak and chew at the same time, "…not conven…" Pulling a face she swallowed hard, "…ient maybe."

A frown burrowed its way into Tara's forehead and she shrugged, letting her hair fall forward over her shoulders. Irritated, she flicked it back. "What do you mean?"

"Well maybe…" Willow adopted her 'mysterious' voice and looked Tara dead in the eye, "Maybe Giles sent us here. To her."

"What for?" the frown was still there, only deepening.

"I don't know," Willow shrugged. "But I guess we're gonna find out."

Edith Betts settled herself into her favourite armchair near the fire, and picked up the pullover she had been knitting for no one in particular. A warm feeling settled over her as she glimpsed the happiness of the two young girls upstairs. It had been such a long time since she had had pupils. The last one had hardly been a success…she tutted irritably and dropped a stitch, making her twitch her lips in annoyance. But for every failure…she reminded herself of the code by which she had been raised. And she had two potential successes right under her nose. Yes…young Mr Giles had been right when he had told her about their power. As one, they were strong, but, she raised her eyebrows, as two…well, she could fairly feel the energy crackling between them.

She paused in her knitting and looked over to the corner of the room where, deceptively hidden amongst the olde world décor and surroundings, a tiny altar nestled, covered in a plain green cloth and adorned with a painted wand and a small athame. Perhaps it was time she brought out her other tools, she mused. Something told her she, and the couple upstairs, may just be needing them.

Part 3
Willow opened her eyes, first registering that it was daylight, as the shaft of sunshine peering in through the heavy red curtains made her squint and blink several times. She then noticed that the room was different to the one she usually woke in. Wooden panelling and a faint scent of lavender made her wonder where she was…then she remembered. She was in England. On holiday. With Tara.

As a smile crept across her lips, she twisted around in the surprisingly comfortable bed to see the blonde witch lying beside her, one arm lying across the bed, the other tucked neatly underneath her head. Her hair splayed across the pillow behind her and she looked ultimately peaceful in her slumber. Willow propped her head up on one hand and, reaching forward with the other, touched the tip of Tara's nose.

Tara frowned in her sleep and twitched her nose, as though trying to ward off the sensation that threatened to wake her. Willow giggled softly to herself and touched the nose again, this time wiggling her finger on it. Tara let out a breath and flailed upwards with her hand, wiping at her face. Willow thought she looked incredibly cute, and not for the first time, she felt her heart clench with love for the girl. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to the pale cheek beside her, brushing them across the skin that always felt like velvet underneath her touch.

This time, the blonde witch opened her eyes a crack, seeing Willow's face close to her. She sighed, reaching up and pushing her hand into the lustrous red hair that tickled against her cheek, holding Willow's face down to hers. Their lips met in a kiss that was tinged with some desire, lingering in it like a distant memory.

"Morning." Willow leant back, grinning down at Tara, who was trying to stifle a yawn.

"Morning. What time is it?" Tara's voice was muffled as she pressed a hand over her mouth.

"Um…" Willow turned, scrambling about on the bedside table with her fingers for her watch. She lay back down and held up the face in front of her, letting out a low groan at the time that stared back at her. "Early." Her eyes crept towards the window again, the curtains the only things shielding the sunshine. "And it's a sunny day."

Tara groaned, closing her eyes. "Do we have to get up? I could sleep for about three days straight."

"Well, we don't have to get up just yet…" Willow leaned over her girlfriend, one arm trailing across Tara's stomach. She grinned down as Tara's eyelids flicked open, two pools of blue gazing up at her in surprised.

"Willow!" Tara exclaimed, laughing a little, "You're insatiable!"

"Only where you're concerned." Willow smoothed her hand over Tara's stomach, loving the soft, warm, pliant flesh underneath her hand. They had decided to bring pyjamas with them, although neither of them had actually worn them to bed. Willow was quite thankful for that at this present moment, even though she was feeling a draught from somewhere on her shoulders.

"Mmmm, don't do that." Tara closed her eyes in a slow, appreciative gesture, then opened them to look up at Willow, revelling in the love she saw shining from the redhead's green eyes.

"Why not? It's nice," a husky tone tempered Willow's voice.

"Because…" Tara began, but found that she was quite unable to think of a reason why Willow shouldn't make her feel so damn good first thing in the morning. And during the day. And in the evening. And all the time.

"Because…?" the redhead echoed.

"Um…because we have to go sightseeing?"

"Nice try." Willow sniggered, "But don't you think it's kinda early for that?" She continued to caress the skin underneath her fingers, trailing them first to one side, then to the other, a lazy motion that was driving tingling sensations through the both of them.

"It's never too early to see interesting things." Tara said innocently, her face serious and almost, Willow thought, like a parent telling a child off for being flippant about going to church or something…

"I'm seeing all the interesting things I want to right now." She returned. "Fascinating things…wondrous things…" she raised her eyebrows suggestively, "…and I'd sure like to see more. You know," she added, "in an purely educational way of course."

The two girls dissolved into laughter as Tara couldn't keep up her 'stern face' any longer. They threw their arms around one another and giggled into each other's necks, rocking back and forth on the bed. A few moments passed before they separated and sat back from one another, no shyness covering their naked bodies. It was as though they had been together forever, Willow told herself, everything about them was so natural and free. A perfect match, or so she had told herself. They were a perfect match in everything…even magick.

Tara was leaning over her side of the bed, exposing a healthy amount of naked flesh. Willow couldn't help but stare as the blonde girl leant back with a t-shirt in her hands and pulled it easily over her head. She pushed back her hair, crackling with static, and grinned at Willow.

"Penny for them?" she teased.

Willow broke out of her reverie and smiled back into Tara's eyes. "Hmm?"

"You were miles away," Tara leant forward and pulled the duvet up around Willow's freckled body, "in one of your Scooby dreams."

"You're the only dream I have these days," Willow smiled affectionately, leaning forward. She was surprised when Tara drew away from her, instead getting out of the bed and walking over to the curtains, pulling at them to reveal the sun outside, already climbing in the sky. "Hey!" she exclaimed, not a little disappointed. "You come back to bed right now!"

Tara turned to smile at her absent mindedly, before facing the window again and wrapping her arms around her midriff, looking off across the greenery that sloped away from the back of the cottage.

Willow clutched the duvet around her and padded over to where Tara stood, pressing herself up against the other girl. She breathed in the scent that was always so familiar yet still new, half closing her eyes. Sometimes she wondered how she had gotten so lucky with Tara; why the Gods saw fit to bring them together. Being with Oz had never felt this easy…with him it was a lot of second guessing and word play. With Tara there were often no words at all…she was an open book to the redhead, communicating with more than language, with an unspoken bond that they both felt. It was special, she thought, no, it was more than special. She respected Tara for her intelligence and her capacity for word and deed. But she also loved her for her true soul that shone from every part of her, colouring the golden hair that tickled now against her face.

"Tara honey…" she murmured, "Come back to bed…it's way too early to be up and about." Her arms slid around the girl in front of her, closing them both together.

Tara again moved away from the embrace. "Willow…don't." She walked over to where her suitcase lay and began picking clothes out, laying them on top of the bed carefully. Not once did her eyes meet Willow's otherwise she would have seen the confusion and hurt in them.

"What's wrong?" Willow sounded like a reprimanded child, "Why don't you…?"

"I just don't." Tara continued unpacking her case with precision and distance. "We don't have to do it all the time you know."

"I know that!" Willow retorted, moving back to the bed and perching awkwardly on the edge of it. She drew her knees up underneath her and half lay down, pulling the duvet over her. Was it just her or had it gotten suddenly cold in here?

"Well then." Tara said firmly.

"But…"

"Willow." Tara's voice had an edge to it that Willow didn't think she'd heard before. It scared her. Just like the time when she and Oz had split up and she'd sensed complete indifference from him. She waited for a minute in apprehensive silence until Tara laid a blue top out on the bed and looked across at her. "Will…it just seems like that's all we do these days." She finally spoke, her voice the essence of calm and reason. Only what she was saying sounded truly unreasonable. So much for the unbreakable bond, Willow thought grimly.

"It's not Tara…really it's not…is it?" she faltered.

"It's starting to feel that way." Tara sighed, sitting on the bed opposite her. She looked over at the redhead, loving her for the wide-eyed innocence she exhaled around her whole body. "I mean, when was the last time we eat out…or went for a walk…or did a spell?"

"Um…"

"Exactly," Tara finished for her. "I was kinda hoping this holiday would revolve around other things than us getting naked. I love you Willow, and I want to be with you….just not all the time. There's other things I like doing with you apart from that. Remember the time you came around and said you didn't just come over for the spells?" Willow nodded dumbly. Tara continued, "I was flattered that you saw me as a person as well as a witch. But sometimes these days I feel like you just see me as…" She stopped, shyness flooding her face.

"As what?" Willow found her voice, her eyes searching the blonde's for answers.

"Well," Tara sighed, "As a physical release…oh…I don't know." She shook her head and bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I guess I just want to do other things."

"You mean…no more sex?" Willow dropped her gaze and found a really interesting patch on the cover of the duvet.

Tara giggled, making the redhead look up suddenly, "I don't mean not any at all silly…just maybe…a little less?"

A sigh escaped the redhead's lips as she looked down again at the duvet cover, picking idly at it. She knew that Tara was right…it was all they seemed to do these days. But nothing else mattered when she was in Tara's arms; when they were making love it was as though Willow knew for certain that she was alive, that she was in love. Being found in the midst of her passion had released Willow into her own right, as a being of her own mind. It was as though nothing else had existed before she knew Tara…before they made love. In that moment hung precariously between humanity and perfection, Willow felt real.

She lifted her gaze to look at Tara, standing waiting for her to speak, clutching her clothes to her body. Often these days, Tara's new found confidence with her manifested itself in patience. Tara would put the idea in Willow's mind and wait for a reply. She never pushed, never forced…simply stood back and waited until Willow could speak. But how could Willow tell Tara how she felt? Truly felt? How could she explain that making love with a woman inspired her body and soul in so many different ways. Tara had been there before, was experienced, was travelled in these things. How could Willow ever hope to say something that Tara hadn't heard before?

She shrugged as she looked at Tara's open, honest face, a clear light shining behind her to light her up in an almost angelic way. Tara. Her angel. Her saviour. Willow took a breath and wondered how she had ever survived without her.

"If that's what you want…" she began, feeling her voice tremble.

"For now, I do." Tara answered, her voice clear and strong in the still morning air. "Willow, I love you more than anything…I just don't feel the need to show it all the time…it's just there…you know?"

Willow nodded, she did know. She was aware of that.

Seeing her girlfriend's obvious disappointment, Tara moved to sit beside her on the bed. She put her hand on Willow's cheek, feeling the smooth, cool skin underneath her palm. Her heart clenched with love and she sighed slightly, feeling the green orbs of misted jade cover her with a wistful and heartfelt gaze.

"Oh Willow," she sighed, "You are just too cute for words when you're upset."

"I'm not upset!" Willow tried her best to sound convincing. It didn't work. "I'm just - "

"Hey," Tara stopped her, tilting her head so that she met the eyes in front of her that were slowly averting a gaze of sadness, "I love you Willow. I just want us to be a proper couple, not jumping each other's bones all the time. It doesn't mean I don't want to…it just means that I…" she trailed off.

"You don't want to right now. Yeah. I get it," Willow nodded. But the truth was that she didn't really.

He walked through the early morning mists that flitted like ghost dancers between the trees, trailing fingers of pure white over hardened bark. In the birdsong of a tribute to the day, he moved silently, his feet making no noise on the ground. He made his way down the path worn by trekkers and visitors towards the hollow that housed a boarded mine shaft, once used by dwellers of the area.

As he grew nearer to the opening, he felt a change within him, vibrating at his very being. He stopped and looked around, his piercing blue gaze seeing what was not there. His eyes roamed the tops of the trees, their branches, their aged boughs. They felt it too, he was sure. Those fledgling trees that had been there since the beginning of time had seen what he had seen. And they felt what he felt.

She was coming.

Again.

Edith Betts leant back in her favourite armchair and lifted the china cup to her lips, sipping at the hot liquid inside. She never started the morning without her cup of Earl Grey, or a look at the newspaper. And, seeing as the newspaper had already yielded nothing untoward (apart from a brawl in town) she had set that back neatly on the table beside the chair, preparing to enjoy her drink. Brid had crawled in at some unearthly hour and was sleeping fitfully beside the fire that Edith had stoked half an hour ago. Her gaze travelled towards the cat, and she smiled faintly at the twitching tail that flicked back and forth. The girls had been in bed for a long while, giving Edith the opportunity to place some long awaited telephone calls. She sipped at her tea again, very long awaited in fact.

Glancing up at the old clock on the mantelpiece, she pursed her lips in annoyance. What on earth was the use of having a 24 hour service if they made you wait for at least an hour before they called you back? A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she remembered the breathless voice of the 'someone' who had answered her call…

"Yes?" the voice had said, not a little disturbed at six o'clock in the morning.

"I want to speak to Robert Merryvale please." Edith said curtly. She wasn't used to being spoken to in such a cursory tone. Surely the missal she had received from the Council had practically encouraged her to telephone 'at any time'. She listened whilst the speaker at the other end of the phone line rustled some papers around and muttered something under his breath. Finally he returned to the handset.

"Mr Merryvale won't be available for another hour. He's in a meeting." His voice gave a trace of the irritation he felt.

"And can I speak to him then?" Edith's tone left him in no doubt as to the fact that she most definitely would. "Please?"

"I'll get him to ring you straight back," the voice said hurriedly, replacing the handset before she could say another word.

And now she was sitting here, waiting for the telephone to ring, her agitation growing by the second. She tipped up the cup, draining the last drop of tea and set the cup back down on the table beside her chair. She folded the newspaper carefully, as a creature of habit should, laying it on the table near the cup. Her lips settled into the hard line she often used with the staff at the hotel when they had not fulfilled a task to the best of their ability. With Cookie, everything strived for perfection. It was something she had been taught by the Council.

She let out a small sigh and settled back in her chair, allowing herself a few precious moments of relaxation. The Council. That was an experience she would never forget. When her grandmother in small-town Wales had realised her potential in second sight and basic witchcraft, Edith had been packed off to train with the Council at their headquarters in Greenwich. It had all seemed like some huge adventure to the naïve 17 year old, although she hadn't remained naïve for very long, she smiled wryly. The things she had seen in her time; back when the Watcher's Council had been working for the Allies in World War Two. If only the general public had known exactly what power drove the Nazis, then Hitler wouldn't have been so hated. He had been like the rest of them, a pawn in the never-ending game of good and evil. His connection to the darkness had been intense and acute, something that had ended almost as abruptly as it had begun.

Still, she told herself, it had been a pretty good innings for someone of her age. And even if she hadn't quite hit the mark, her training with the Council had enabled her to secure a position with the Giles family. Happy memories, she smiled to herself, with young Mr Giles a Watcher in training and his brothers so involved in special operations. Yes, she nodded imperceptibly in the empty room, very happy days indeed. She sometimes wondered if things would have been so very different if she had been accepted onto the Council in her capacity of a witch…still, she jerked herself back into the present, no use wondering about what could have been…

The telephone rang, just the once, before Edith grabbed the receiver and pressed it against the side of her face.

"Betts residence," she said, knowing who it would be.

The voice that spoke down the other end of the line was gruff and tinged with the acquired accent of public school. "Mrs Betts? Robert Merryvale here." It bore no sentiment or even a common courtesy.

Ignorant young pup, Cookie thought to herself, but disguised the irritation she felt as she drew breath for what she was about to say. "Your initial expectations were right Mr Merryvale," she began, "and I'm sure you won't be disappointed by what I have planned."

"Aaah…" a knowing sigh came from the other end of the line, "The witches. They've arrived then?"

"They have indeed," she answered, "And they are much more powerful than Mr Giles first indicated."

"You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," her voice held a note of irritation. "I haven't been trained to watch for nothing Mr Merryvale, and might I add that I have been initiating witches since you were in short trousers."

Her comment hit the mark as the other voice gave out a cough of embarrassment and recognition of her exceptional abilities. "Of course Mrs Betts. Naturally I wish to interview them."

"Naturally. When?"

"Shall we say later today? Would midday be convenient?"

Cookie cast a gaze upward to the other side of the house. She knew they were awake, she had felt their stirrings in the back of her mind. "Midday would be acceptable," she answered. "The usual place then?"

"Of course," Merryvale said, "I'll make sure you have clearance."

"Good," Cookie said decisively, before replacing the receiver without saying goodbye. She had never wasted pleasantries on Council members, they didn't appreciate it anyway. She had learned that the hard way.

She sat back in her chair, glancing at the clock again. Time to let them rest for a while. And then…she smiled again to herself, her gaze moving to the altar in the corner of her room…and then it would be time for magick.

Part 4
The dog trotted down the pathway towards the cave entrance, covered by time and overgrown branches. It was barely noticeable and many walkers simply passed by without even looking at the rock that decisively covered an open cavern entrance. But the dog knew it was there. He knew it as he stopped, nose twitching, tail at once straight and stiff. His ears cocked forwards as he heard the low humming of magick emanating from deep within the ground. A whine escaped his throat as the humming warned in dulcet tones of a long hidden power, one that was emerging from the hillside in strength and force. He understood, in his own instinctual dog mind, that this was no place for any animal to linger. Turning abruptly, he scampered off in the direction from which he had come.

"I'm not sure I understand." Willow said slowly, munching on the toast that Cookie had brought her and Tara in the living room. The two girls were seated on the rather uncomfortable, lumpy sofa opposite Mrs Betts in her armchair. Tara had drawn her feet up beneath her as she sipped at the steaming cup of tea Cookie had prepared for their breakfast. They had only been there minutes when Cookie had announced that they were going on a trip later in the morning.

When she had explained exactly where they were going Willow's eyes had widened and she had almost choked on her mouthful of toast. Tara had said nothing, but Willow felt the girl's body tense next to her, and had reached across to squeeze the hand that grasped her own just as strongly.

"Not sure you understand what?" Cookie said evenly, barely batting an eyelid at the response to her announcement.

"Well…" Willow finished off her toast and swallowed hurriedly, "Why would the Watcher's Council want to see us?" she glanced across at Tara, whose blue eyes met her own in a confused and slightly worried manner.

Edith allowed herself a wry smile and lifted her own teacup to her lips, sipping almost imperceptibly at the liquid before setting it down on the table next to her. "I used to work for the Council in my earlier days," she said, her eyes fixed on a point beyond their heads. Tara and Willow exchanged looks that spoke volumes. Things were starting to make sense now. "When young Mr Giles mentioned you were visiting England and told me just how powerful you two are…well I thought it wouldn't do any harm to introduce you to some people who may be able to help you."

"Help us?" Tara spoke for the first time, her voice sounding suddenly loud in the quiet room, "Help us in what way exactly?"

Edith shifted her gaze from that faraway spot and looked directly at Tara, her eyes boring like gimlets into the young girl's gaze. She saw so much in the two witches that sat before her…a lot like herself when she was younger. So much had happened since then, she sighed inwardly, so much had not happened. She was determined that these two wouldn't miss the opportunities she had done…

She coughed and raised the cup to her lips again before answering. "I was in the employ of the Council under a special division for Magicks and Mystical Phenomenon," she began, observing their impressed gaze and intake of breath at her revelation. "I was training with them to become part of their conclave…it's a very select group of people who work on special cases. But," she shook her head and closed her eyes almost wearily for a moment, "I never quite fulfilled all their requirements. The Council has a place on their new programme and is looking for a young witch to join the conclave. Something has come up and they wish to initiate someone to aid them."

"So…" Willow began a sentence to which all three women knew the answer.

"Exactly." Edith replied, nodding at them again. "If you are successful, then one of you two will be employed by the Council. And one of you…" she paused for effect, "…will be going home to America."

Silence dropped down over the three women and Willow reached again for Tara's hand. As the fingers slid down over her palm Tara felt a shiver go through her at the redhead's touch. They had been brought here for a reason then, she realised, no wonder Mr Giles had been so willing for them to visit England. Working for the Council had been something her parents had told her was a great honour amongst witches like them. Usually the Council only recruited the best and most powerful. Although, Tara mused, most of her power came from Willow these days. Together they were unstoppable…she wondered just how it would be if they were apart. A shooting panic throbbed once in the back of her heart. That thought just wasn't right. Being apart from Willow in a literal sense was a worryingly unpleasant thought. One she didn't even want to contemplate right now.

"But the Council haven't exactly been…they haven't been good to us…I mean, Buffy especially," Willow said, her voice holding concern and not a little apprehension. "All that stuff they did with Faith; and booting Giles out like they did." Her mouth straightened itself into a resolve that Tara had seen only a few times before. "They're not the good guys."

Edith looked across at the intelligent eyes that frowned at her. "Good guys or not Willow, the Council is still the Council. Which means that most witches in your position would give their right arm to study with the best."

"Not this witch." Willow said softly. "I can't trust them after what they've done. Or, what they didn't do."

"Antiquated, hostile, unforgiving…I suppose that's your opinion of the Council is it, young lady?" Cookie's voice was firm but not unkind, and a slight smile played around her lips.

"No…" Willow protested, leaning forward a little, then sat back and shrugged. "Well…yeah…actually…yeah."

"And for many years it has been so," Cookie nodded, watching the redhead carefully. "But changes have been afoot recently. In fact," she took a breath and let it out slowly, "over the past few months the Council has acquired many a young protégée who will no doubt become indispensable. They aren't just in the Slayer business you know," she sniffed with what seemed like disdain, "The Council has had many successes with young witches like yourself. I myself will never regret the years I spent with them. So much so that my abilities have enabled me to sense power like yours. The power both of you possess. It would be such a great shame to let that go to waste by not maximising it, exploring it, fulfilling it." Her voice had become almost melodious as she spoke with passion and vigour, a light shining in her aged eyes.

The tone of her voice was almost seductive to the two young wiccans and Tara felt herself resisting the urge to refuse. After what her parents had said, and now what Mrs Betts was telling her…how could the knowledge she had gleaned from Willow and Giles be all wrong? Sure, she had seen the armoured truck that the Council had rolled into town on, but she also knew that there were always two sides to every story.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt to go along and see what they want." She heard herself saying, whilst at the same time feeling Willow tense beside her.

"Tara!" Willow exclaimed, turning to look at her girlfriend in surprise and horror. "How can you say that? Not the Council…I mean…they're no good for people like us."

"People like you Willow," the blonde witch answered softly, her eyes flitting from Willow's shocked green eyes down to their joined hands and back again. "For someone like me, it feels good to be wanted. And they want me Willow, they really do. I need to belong."

"You do belong!" Willow's strained reply came in an instant, "You are needed! We all need you and want you in Sunnydale." She hung her head, her lips twisting into a down turned grimace. "I want you," she added, almost to herself.

"The Council wants you both. Today." Edith cut into what had fast seemed like a private moment between the two girls. Their heads both turned to look at her. "I've arranged a small meeting with Robert Merryvale. He's now in charge of Recruitment. An odious man, but good at his job. He wants to meet you both to ask you about your powers."

"Tara? You wanna go?" Willow asked, capitulating when her girlfriend nodded imperceptibly. "Okay," she sighed, "I guess it won't hurt to go and find out what this is all about."

"Good." Edith stood up, smoothing at her clothes. "I'll leave you two alone to prepare then."

"Prepare?" echoed Willow, "You mean we have to wear, like, special clothes or something?"

"Not at all." Cookie thinly disguised her amusement at the thought, "But you might want to think about what would happen if one of you were chosen and the other wasn't." She walked into the kitchen leaving the two of them alone.

Turning to Tara, Willow could see that the blonde was purposely avoiding her gaze. She had lifted her teacup to her lips and was draining the liquid in a manner that suggested nerves. A frown lined Willow's brow as she noticed how Tara's hand was slipping out of hers in an attempt to distance herself.

"Hey," she said softly, "What's up?" she leaned in closer towards the pale skin near her, intending to snuggle up and kiss her girlfriend. As she moved within kissing range, Tara chose that moment to lean away and put her cup down. A simple gesture that could have been put down to bad timing, sure, but one that sank its claws into Willow's heart nonetheless. She sat back, her mouth a shocked 'o'. "Tara…" she whispered, hurting inside.

Tara couldn't look at her, she stared down at her hands, clasped together in her lap. Her hair fell forward, hiding her face from the one who loved her more than anyone had ever loved her in her whole life. She had heard what Cookie had said…heard it and felt it deep inside her. Separation from Willow? Either way, one of them would be without the other. It didn't seem so much an option as more of a punishment. And attractive and flattering as it was to be wanted by the Council, she wasn't sure whether she was ready to give Willow up for it.

"Tara honey…talk to me please?" Willow reached up and pushed Tara's hair back from her face. Her throat ached with tears that threatened to pin prick her eyes. She swallowed hard.

The blonde witch turned her head to look into the green eyes she knew so well. She could never hide anything from that perfect gaze; she never wanted to. Their openness and honesty had been the first thing to come naturally once they were a couple, and she saw no reason to change that now. She took a deep breath, wondering if Willow understood the ramifications of what the Council really wanted.

"Willow, what if one of us gets this thing? I mean…if we get accepted by the Council?" she said, her tone low and meaningful. A dark colour seeped into her clear blue eyes as she gazed across at Willow.

"God Tara…we're only going to see what's it like…I mean…no one's said anything about wanting us to work for them or anything! Besides, after all they've done I'm not sure I would if they asked me." Willow replied hotly. "And I can't believe you're even considering it either."

"All my life I just wanted to fit in and be wanted." Tara began softly, her voice holding years of hurt at her isolation from her own peer group. "To have an opportunity like this is amazing…these people, the Council…they can do stuff you wouldn't believe. I mean, you've got your life in Sunnydale and all…but I just feel like I'm passing through all the time." She held up a hand as Willow opened her mouth to protest. "You'll understand better when you go there. Believe me Willow…my mother used to tell me about the Council and they don't ask to see you if they don't want you." Tara said, watching as understanding coloured the redhead's gaze. "They want one of us at least, and seeing us is how they'll find out which one. Whatever happens," she paused, trying to control her breathing, "one of us won't be taking that trip home."

The room was vast in an openly ostentatious manner, a spiral staircase at either end lead up to a balconied library. The age of the books gave out a slightly musty scent that seemed to emanate from within their covers. If one looked from one side of the room to the other, it seemed as though the walls were papered with books and shelved with soft dark oak.

In the cavernous space below the balcony were huge wooden tables with small lights positioned above them for reading purposes. No one was seated at any of the tables, or any of the couches that lounged at the edges of the room. It was dark and cold, the air feeling hostile and inert.

Tara shivered, wishing she'd brought a jacket. It had been such a sunny day that she had been quite warm on the journey over. A journey that had taken them through oddly named villages and across what Cookie told them were the Cheshire plains. Not very plain though, Tara thought to herself, they were beautiful and green and lush, boasting colourful trees and verdant hedging. She had revelled in the natural beauty of it all and the journey had distracted her for a short time at least from the pained and wan figure of her girlfriend next to her in the back seat. Neither of them had spoken since the truth about the Council and Tara's growing feelings of ambition for herself had set in, and Cookie had seen no reason to start a long conversation, so the journey had been punctuated only by her abrupt pieces of information about the area they were travelling through. She kept on looking into her rear view mirror though, and her eyes registered the distance between the two girls.

Tara shivered again; the thin cotton of the top she was wearing didn't warm her, or prevent the goose pimples from rising on her forearms. She took a step further into the library, feeling her feet sink into a deep piled carpet. Her steps made no sound as she wrapped her arms around herself in a vague attempt to capture some heat.

She glanced over at Willow, who was walking to the centre of the room as though in a trance. Her eyes were slowly travelling the length of the bookshelves, as wide as saucers. Her mouth was hanging open and she had a look of complete wonder on her face. Tara's heart clenched with love, then unclenched with jealousy as she realised that, as much as she loved knowledge for knowledge's sake, she just didn't have the burning desire for it that Willow had. And, in a way, she sometimes knew she never would. Books didn't impress her. The only thing that impressed her was Willow.

"Oh my god…this is…amazing!" Willow breathed in a hushed tone, her voice echoing slightly around the room. She turned and flashed a smile at Tara, moving closer to her. The blonde witch grinned at how her insides felt every time Willow did that; all thoughts of their separation this morning were forgotten. In the light of that smile, every problem seemed to melt away into nothingness.

Willow's hand slipped easily into Tara's and she squeezed it tight. As they moved even closer together a cough reminded them that they were not alone.

"Ladies, please feel free to browse the library…in your own time," Robert Merryvale stepped forward, his deep voice rumbling its way towards them. He was a huge man, heavyset and in his late forties. He had taken them on a very quick tour of the headquarters set in the countryside, and then had taken them in a lift down to this underground (Willow suspected) library and meeting room. "You will, I'm sure, find our collection quite unmatched."

"Oh…we will…." Willow babbled, "I mean…won't we? Sure we will…" she shook her head and pulled Tara against her, nudging the blonde witch with a frown as Tara could barely contain her giggles.

"Yes. Well," Merryvale cleared his throat again, his discomfort with the two girls becoming more evident. "as well as embarking on your training you will be expected to be versed in rituals and history."

"I can do that!" Willow squeaked, "I mean…" she cast a glance at Tara, "We can do that."

Merryvale shifted his bulk over to a nearby table and leaned against it as he surveyed the two witches in front of him. The wooden reading station groaned as he put his weight on it. He shoved his hands into his pockets, absurdly stretching the fabric of his trousers and cast a cynical eye back towards Edith Betts, who was watching the whole scene unfold before her from a safe distance.

"Wonder how enthusiastic they'll be once they start training?" he wondered aloud.

"They'll be as interested as you make them Robert," Edith replied, her tone unable to disguise her disapproval of his methods. She had long disagreed with the training regime of the Council, but since her opinion had mattered less and less, she had little to do with decision making anymore. She had witnessed the power of the girls; it had been apparent to her from the very same moment she had met them. She knew it to be pure and strong, and it engendered faith in her; and faith in them too. "Don't you think it's about time you told them about the task, Robert?" she prompted, looking over at him where he was picking at a non-existent piece of fluff on his suit jacket.

Merryvale lifted himself off the table, which groaned gratefully, motioning towards a grouping of large chairs. Edith sat down, smoothing her hands over her skirt. Willow and Tara stood where they were, moving together again as though for protection. Merryvale ambled over to a sunken armchair and lowered his bulk into it. He looked across at Edith and a slight smile crossed his face. It wasn't, Willow noted, a very nice smile at all. It made his reddened cheeks even redder as it pushed the flesh upward towards his piggy eyes. Everything about this man just reinforced her feelings of disgust for the Council. Still, she told herself, this library alone was worth putting up with him for a few more minutes. Besides, she chastised herself, she was here because Tara had wanted it, which brought up even more problems and worries that she was attempting to push to the back of her mind.

"What task?" she prompted him, taking a step closer to where he sat.

"As part of your training with us, and as part of your test, you will find that both of you will be set a task," Merryvale began, enjoying the attention he had sought as a child and never found. "It is a task you will find arduous and mentally stressful. Mrs Betts here and one of our Watchers," this was punctuated by a snort of laughter from Edith, to which he threw a cursory glance of derision, "are working on a problem you can help us to resolve. It will be useful for you to experience how a Watcher deals with these types of situations anyway."

"Oh we've already seen how a Watcher - " Willow began, but was cut off as Merryvale held up his hand.

"A Watcher who uses conventional methods, I mean. Someone who still abides by the Council code," he said. Edith's lips pursed visibly at the sub textual criticism of her 'young Mr Giles' but she said nothing.

Tara was confused. "Okay, I understand helping you guys with something magick based," she said, folding her arms, "But doesn't a Watcher watch Slayers?"

"That is correct." Merryvale answered in a curt tone.

"So what's that got to do with us then. I mean…"

"The only Slayer we know is back in Sunnydale." Willow finished for her. She shifted from foot to foot before adding, "And the only other one apart from that is - "

"You got it Red. Me." A voice behind them made them turn.

Willow almost staggered against Tara as the figure that owned the voice stepped out of the shadows and into the centre of the room. The figure walked towards the two witches, then stopped not ten yards away from them. The familiarity of the wiry frame, dark hair and even darker eyes burned into their memories. Four pairs of eyes turned to stare at her, two pairs of which were distinctly shocked and not a little frightened.

"Faith!" Willow finally found her voice.

"Faith?" Tara felt nervousness creeping unpleasantly into her mind.

"Faith." Merryvale said decisively.

Faith shrugged and shoved her hands into the pockets of her tight black leather trousers, shifting her balance slightly. She grinned crookedly at the four people looking at her and shook her head slightly.

"Hey you guys," she said, the voice sparking off a myriad of memories Tara and Willow would rather forget. "It's just a name…not a curse."

Part 5
A hush settled over the library as all eyes turned to watch the dark-haired Slayer. She smiled crookedly and moved to sit on one of the oak tables, much to Merryvale's horror. Faith drew her leather-clad legs up into a cross-legged position and leant her elbows onto her knees. She appeared to be her usual casual self, in fact, Willow noted with not a little resentment, she seemed even more relaxed than ever before. If the redheaded Wiccan hadn't already made up her mind to be dead set against the Council, this was her decisive moment. Her lips formed a tight line of resistance and she swung around to face Merryvale, anger flashing emerald in her eyes.

"What is she doing here?" her voice was low and trembling with emotion. "You know what she did…what she is…surely?"

Merryvale opened his mouth to speak, but Faith jumped in first, drawing Willow's gaze back to her again. "Sure he knows Red; the whole of the damn Council knows just exactly what I did."

"So they invited you for a holiday?" Willow's eyes burned into Faith's, hardly noticing the dark circles that shaded the Slayer's face, or the lines that creased her brow, or her pained reaction to Willow's stabbing words. "Well that's great…" the redhead continued, "That's just dandy," she added through gritted teeth. "I mean, if Tara and I had known just how far the Council's hospitality reached, maybe we would have been a bit more homicidal. We would have screwed our friends," Faith flinched visibly but said nothing as Willow continued her rant, "lied to them, hurt them…hey, even tried to kill them. And your reward is a free trip to England. Yeah, I can see the punishment there. That's a real life sentence." She turned back to Merryvale with tears in her eyes, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Willow…" Faith began wearily, getting down off the table and moving towards the redhead who was trembling with rage.

"No!" Willow held out her hands like a shield, "You keep away from me! I don't know what you hoped to gain by this," she said to Merryvale, who was watching her outburst with what seemed like confusion, "but you achieved quite the opposite."

She looked at each one of them in turn; the taciturn face of the Council representative, the stony acknowledgement of Mrs Betts, and finally, the glistening pools of worry from her girlfriend. Oh, she wanted so much to reach out and feel the comfort she saw there, but the wound that Faith had slit in her heart had gone too deep, hurting the way it always had done. Now it had been ripped open again, tearing the fragile edges that were only just starting to heal. The pain had returned with the sharpness of new hurt. And there was nothing Tara could do about it, Willow realised with a sinking feeling. The problem with Faith was her own demon, one she couldn't find strength within her to conquer. As the blonde reached out for her, Willow shook her head and moved away.

"I'm…I'm sorry," she whispered towards the worried face of her girlfriend, then turned abruptly on her heel and bolted for the door.

Another silence roared seconds of discomfort between the remaining few.

Until Tara took an audible breath and spoke, her words falling on the ears of everyone in the room. "How could you?" she frowned at Merryvale, then turned to Mrs Betts, "Mrs Betts? Is this what it was about? Making Willow unhappy?" She then turned to Faith, the final obstacle. "I don't know why you came here Faith," she said evenly, "But it's not a good idea that you stay."

She hurried across the room to the door where Willow had exited and followed, the click of the door shutting beside her the only sound in the cavernous room.

Then, a sigh from Faith. "That went well," she remarked, flopping down sideways onto one of the huge armchairs, her legs hanging over one of the arms, her own arms folded tightly across her chest. Her eyes had slipped back into defiant mode as she jerked her head towards Merryvale. "Told you she'd never go for it." The hardened tone of her voice gave no indication that she had any feelings about the incident whatsoever, but was instead picking over it in a detached way. She chewed at her bottom lip as Merryvale gave no reply, but instead rubbed his hand over his large reddened face and glanced across at Edith Betts. "I guess Red's kinda down on the old dark side thing still…but she always was more of a Skywalker than a Vader. Typical Scooby.”

"Faith, you knew when you agreed to this that it wouldn't be easy." Edith sat forward, trying to comfort the girl. From the way that Faith rolled her eyes and flicked her head back impatiently she knew it was all to no avail.

"Yeah you told me," Faith shrugged, "Big guy over there," she jerked a thumb towards Merryvale, who shifted almost nervously from foot to foot, "he told me. Everyone told me." She got up and began to pace, agitatedly. "It'll take time Faith," her words mocked the advice she'd received when she first arrived at Council headquarters, "It's going to be difficult Faith, you have to be prepared for people to reject you Faith…" she paused long enough to face the two Council employees, jabbing her finger at each of them to punctuate her words. "You two don't know what I did to those people, you can never guess what it's like to be me and have to live with that, so don't just sit there and expect me to deal…okay? Red hated me then and looks like she still hates me now." Her voice dropped slightly, losing its angered tone and taking on a husky timbre. Her eyes blinked once, just long enough to get rid of the tears that were pricking behind her eyelids. "I don't know if I can ever make it up to her. To all of them."

"You have to want to Faith." Merryvale spoke for the first time since Willow had run from the library. He straightened his glasses on his nose and harrumphed to clear his throat. "It was made clear to you that the first rule of changing is - "

"I know I know." Faith cut in impatiently. "I have to want to change. And I do!" She leant against one of the huge balustrades holding up the balcony and gave a bitter laugh. "First time in my life I'm sayin' something Red might wanna hear and she runs for cover." She pushed her hands deep into her pockets and pursed her lips, "She ain't even listenin'."

"Then you'll have to make her listen." Edith Betts spoke carefully and thoughtfully. "People will listen when you have something to say. Something they want to hear. You need to ask yourself Faith, do you want her to hear you?"

Willow was leaning against the wall in the corridor just outside the library. She was trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to hold back the hot tears of anger that splashed down her cheeks. Rubbing at them with the cuff of her jacket, she was aware that a figure was standing next to her. Tara. Her port in the storm. Her saving grace. Of all the things in the world that made sense, Tara was at the heart of them.

"Willow?" the soft voice drifted to her ears like gossamer on a summer breeze. Willow turned and threw herself into her girlfriend's arms, feeling the warm hands caress her hair and hold her tight, whilst Tara's voice tickled against her ears, making soothing noises.

When she finally drew back from the blonde witch, Willow saw that Tara was crying too. She put a fingertip to one of the beaded tears and rubbed it away from the other girl's cheek. "Hey, what's up with you?" she said, her own anxiety forgotten.

"I…I hate s-seeing you so upset." Tara gulped. Her pain was palpable, her words direct, communication implicit. "I hate the way she makes you f-feel."

"Hey, I'm used to it by now. Big bad Faith's been around for a while." Willow tried to lighten her tone but knew that it hardly even managed to put a veneer on the pain inside her. "I should have known I couldn't trust the Council to make things simple."

"Willow, let's go now. Let's get away from here. Let's just go somewhere…else…somewhere not here." Tara pleaded, her fingers interlacing with the redhead's.

It was an attractive proposition, Willow mused, it seemed perfect. Just the two of them, without all this Council stuff, without all the Faith stuff, without anything but the two of them together. That was the way she had always wanted it, the way she had dreamed. But it was tainted now by the arrival of Faith. As always, Faith had managed to put fear and doubt into her mind again. What the heck was she doing here anyway? She was supposed to be in prison…Willow shook her head, glancing downwards before lifting her gaze to meet the other witch's.

"No," she said simply, "we have to find out what's going on. I mean, Buffy could be in danger. If this concerns her then it concerns us."

"You want to stay?" Tara could hardly recognise the firm resolve she saw crossing the redhead's face.

"Not want to," Willow told her, "I have to."

Faith picked at a loose thread on her jacket, sitting cross-legged on the table again. This had gone about as badly as she could have imagined, and all those nights in prison had offered her plenty of 'thinking' time. She had tried to see the situation from every angle, tried to envisage what it would be like meeting the Scooby Gang once more. She winced as she remembered the last time they had met…the last time she had seen B. The pain that had been so raw at the time was still tender inside her. Rehabilitation with the Council had hardly seemed an option when she faced years in prison. How those guys managed to swing it was beyond her, but they had, and she had promised to go along with it.

The problem was, Faith was really trying. She hadn't expected sympathy or even civil treatment, but here at the Council headquarters she had found her own niche to fit into. She had been undergoing some serious head shrinking to help her with her rage. And it seemed to be working. She hadn't flipped for…a wry smile crossed her face as she recalled an episode this very morning. Well, Council trainees who got in her way deserved all they got. She had been in the middle of a bout of boxing, and some poor guy had been on the end of a hard right hook. Apparently he was still in the medical room, nursing a very broken jaw.

A door at the far end of the library opened and a blonde figure entered the room, her head downcast and her movements shy and nervous, aware that the three occupants of the room were looking at her. She moved to the spot where she and Willow had stood previously, and stopped, her eyes still fixed firmly on the floor.

Faith slid off the table and stood opposite Tara, her face working its way through statements of enquiry and hurt at the same time. Red hadn't bothered coming back in, she noticed. Hardly surprising really, considering all she'd done in the past. She checked herself. What was it her Watcher had said? Past was past, over and done. Keep moving forward. She almost laughed out loud. He was a kooky old guy, but he seemed to know his stuff, which was cool with Faith as far as it went.

"So?" she said finally, folding her arms across her chest.

Tara looked up, first at Mrs Betts, then across at Faith. She couldn't bear to look at Merryvale, who merely sat watching the two girls in the centre of the room. She opened her mouth, and to her horror no sound came out. Pressing her hands tightly together, she licked her lips nervously and tried again.

"Willow won't come back in yet. She's…she's not ready yet. But she wants to stay. Uh…if that's okay," her voice sounded very small in the large room.

Merryvale rose from his seat with some difficulty. "Excellent. We'll go ahead as planned then."

"Hold it. Wait a second." Faith held up her hands and glowered at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" She turned back to Tara. "What does she mean?"

"She doesn't trust you Faith." Tara said simply. "I'm not sure…I'm not sure if I do either."

"Great." Faith shrugged and shoved her hands into her pockets, flicking her hair back over her shoulder. "So I get to be bad girl all over again until I save the freakin' world or somethin' huh?" Her tone was terse and emotional. She clenched her teeth together to stop the emotion from showing. "I mean, jeez, what do I have to do?"

"You have work to do Faith. As do these two girls." Merryvale cut in. Both Faith and Tara looked across at him and he gave a dismissive shake of his head. "We all have work to do."

"Work huh?" Faith moved closer to Tara. "You wanna work with me?"

Tara felt all eyes on her, and she blushed a little but stood her ground. She watched as Faith looked her up and down, then up and down again, circling her almost like a wary predator. Perhaps…she thought, sensing something from the dark haired Slayer in front of her…perhaps there was some kind of way out of this. Tara closed her eyes for a second, drinking in the aura that was drifting towards her. She had only met Faith briefly before, and that was a crazy time. But she had sensed the Slayer spirit then, had known that Buffy's energy was diverted, displaced, not quite flowing like it should be. And she was sensing something again right now. For all her bluff and detachment, Tara could feel something good in the girl in front of her. Something hidden far too deep for too many years, pushed way back behind all the hurt and anger…but something good nonetheless.

Finally Faith stopped circling her and stood in front of Tara, their eyes meeting. They were of a similar height, but of such different shades and colours that the contrast between them was striking. Faith met the pure blue gaze in front of her and wondered how rare it was to see something that innocent and clear. She felt like she could reach out and touch goodness if she wanted to. And the girl was standing her ground, her eyes meeting Faith's, not looking away for one second.

"Tara, right?"

Tara nodded.

"I'm Faith," she stuck out her hand and waited for what seemed like endless moments until the blonde girl slipped her own hand into the grasp of the Slayer's and they shook slowly.

<

Willow was making her way down one of the long Council corridors. She needed some fresh air, time to think, time to try and work out what was going on here. Tara had told her to go, reassuring her that she would take care of things, that she could talk to Faith for the time being. Tara. Willow half smiled to herself, despite her fears. That girl was always ready to see the good in everyone…anyone. She had an innate trusting nature that believed that evil was nurtured, not inherent in humans. Something her mother had told her, that evil people were made not born.

Willow wished she could believe her, but she knew Faith too well. Whatever Tara truly believed, the redhead knew that she would never trust the dark Slayer ever again. What was that saying…too much bad blood? Just too much blood, period. Closing her eyes, Willow tried to push the images that resurfaced in her mind. Faith, killing and hurting people just because she could. Just because she had the power.

A shiver worked its way down her spine. How many nights had she woken up sweating, dreaming that she and Tara had been unable to make the katra to return Faith to her own body? In those moments between sleeping and waking, she had been utterly convinced that Faith was still in Buffy's body, still wreaking havoc, still hurting the people closest to her. The betrayal of her own friendship had been harsh and still tasted bitter, but the betrayal of Buffy and Xander had cut far deeper than she had known. All those feelings she had denied, had pushed to the back of her mind, had flooded back in one fail swoop the moment she had recognised Faith in the library.

Looking around her, Willow realised that she was lost. In her efforts to get away from Faith and all the memories she brought with her, she had wandered mindlessly down the first corridor she had seen. And now she was faced with lines of endless doors, all quiet and closed to her. Did no one work here? she wondered. It was awfully silent. Not even the sounds of people talking or anything came from behind the doors. Typical Watcher's Council, she thought wryly, always bringing it on with the creepy silent thing. They probably did it on purpose to lull people into a false sense of security. She promised herself that she wouldn't be fooled by them again. They had probably brought her and Tara here today to do some wicked Slayer thing with Faith. She wouldn't have been surprised it the whole thing wasn't some evil plan anyway…

A noise behind her caught her attention. Turning, she almost jumped back in shock as a figure emerged from one of the doors along the corridor. She narrowed her eyes as she felt recognition of some kind flood her body, then confusion entered her mind as she knew for certain that she had never met the man who turned and smiled at her.

"Lost?" he said, his voice carrying some of the slight accent that Mrs Betts had. He moved towards her, giving Willow time to appraise his appearance. He was dressed in some kind of flowing smock coat that reached down to his ankles. It was a plain, dull brown colour, that contrasted sharply with his full white beard and hair. She had never seen such clarity of brightness and wondered how old he was. His sharp blue eyes twinkled kindly at her as he came closer and laid his hand on her arm. His touch seemed to calm her apprehension and she felt herself wanting to tell him everything…about Faith, about this place, the Council, Tara…everything.

"Uh…I came from the…uh…" she gestured back down the corridor, unable to form a complete sentence, lost instead in the gaze that met hers so easily.

He nodded, his smile broadening. "Ah yes…the young Wiccan visitors. I've been hearing about you two. And you would be…?"

"Uh, Willow."

"Willow." He nodded. "What a beautiful name. Quite fitting. I had a niece named Willow once you know. A pretty young thing she was too." He slid his hand around her elbow and guided her along the corridor. "How about some tea? I think it's about time for a cup now don't you?"

Willow found herself warming to his manner, his presence, the way he spoke to her. She let herself walk along the corridor beside him, feeling suddenly at ease next to him.

"I'm Myrddin." He said, "But you can call me Merlin. Everyone does."

Part 6
"I'm still not sure about this young Slayer, Robert." Edith Betts sat down in the cluttered office and cast a careful eye around, noting to herself that cleaning wasn't high on the Council's list of priorities. She had found an empty chair amidst the books and papers that were piled high around her. Merryvale had always been organised inside his head, she remembered, even in the old days, but his lack of attention to his office had been getting steadily worse as he grew older. It seemed that the more responsibility he acquired, the more reason he had to ignore the basic principles that guided her ordered life.

Merryvale turned from the window, where he had been lighting a pipe. It was a habit he had taken up as a younger man, emulating his mentor here at the Council, and had remained one that he always saw as rather dashing and traditional. He saw from the distasteful statement on Edith's face that she didn't share his opinion. Still, he told himself, the old witch had served her purpose in the old days and was valuable as far as it went now. Keep her sweet old chap, he told himself, proffering a false smile at her observation about Faith.

"Now now Mrs Betts," he rumbled, "Let's keep this in perspective. The new ritual calls for Wiccan and Slayer to work in synchronicity. What better way to engender that than bringing together a Wiccan and a Slayer that already know each other?"

"You make it sound so very simple Robert." Edith pursed her lips, "But you and I both know the history between these girls. Why you Council people just can't relent and let Buffy Summers do the work I don't know." She sighed and shook her head, "Always doing things the hard way. Some things never change."

"Buffy Summers?" Merryvale almost choked, his face turning a deep shade of puce at the mere mention of the mutinous Slayer in Sunnydale. "It was her choice to turn away from us here at the Council; we only reacted accordingly." He took a deep inhalation and puffed out blue smoke into the musty air of his office. Even though the sun was shining brightly outside, it was always darkened in his corner of the room. He shied away from the sunlight, preferring to immerse himself in cold reading rooms and aged piles of books.

As a younger man, he had hidden behind them as a protection. Of course, as a younger man he had never been given the responsibilities he had now, which partly explained his superior attitude. He had always known he could do the job; he had just never been trusted enough until recently.

He lowered his bulk into the worn leather chair behind his desk and moved a pile of paper folders to one side. "Having a useless Slayer is a pointless exercise," he explained, trying to avoid the hard stare of the woman in front of him, "Faith wanted redemption, some kind of rehabilitation. Where else could she go? Certainly outside society didn't want her, and what point was there in her being locked away? She's more use to us here than in some prison in the middle of nowhere."

"That's may as be," Edith answered immediately, almost ignoring his words, "but how do you know she's not just as dangerous as she was before. She's a clever girl Robert, past experience with her has shown us all that. What proof do we have that she won't go down the same pathway to evil just as she did the last time."

"She didn't have Myrddin the last time."

Edith inclined her head at the mention of his name. "True," she nodded. "I'm worried though, about those two girls. They are both so powerful…" her voice trailed off as she remembered the sharpness of the magick that touched her whenever she was near them. It had pierced her mind like a clear bell tone, ringing memories inside her head and awakening her old machinations.

"And we'll see if they're up to the task in hand. All of them." Merryvale intoned, taking another puff of his pipe. "We need to act fast though. Sources are rife with rumours of her re-emergence. If we don't take action; well…" he shook his head, needing no explanation of the consequences.

Edith Betts sniffed and clasped her hands together in her lap. "We took care of her last time." She said grimly, her mouth set in a line that betrayed none of her inner fear and apprehension. "We will again."

<

Tara turned her head towards the sun, closing her eyes and feeling the heat on her face. She had been encouraged to walk along the pathway leading from the Council headquarters at Faith's insistence. The gravel path that led away from the mansion set in woodland had taken them to a cliff path that dropped down to a huge estuary, banked by reddened sands. Across the water, Tara could see the shadowed rise of land, where her eyes were drawn by the darker shapes of what she assumed to be mountains, rising deeply blue from the clouded hills opposite.

"That's Wales." Faith's voice behind her made her turn to see the Slayer picking her way through the rough shrub grass along the cliff top.

"Wales?" Tara echoed, glancing once again at the misted land on the other side. She shielded her eyes from the sunlight and squinted to get a better view as Faith stopped beside her.

"Yeah, some kinda weird Celtic thing goin' on there," Faith half laughed, "They're really into their old traditions are the Brits ya know."

"Mmm, it's wonderful," Tara sighed, before turning to face the dark- haired girl again, following the trail that Faith was walking.

"I'm sorry you know, uh…about the other thing…the body swap thing." Faith managed to somehow get the words out in what seemed like a sincere tone. She purposely avoided eye contact with the blonde; apologising was so difficult for her. She'd tried with Buffy and had received a threat before the words could form in her mouth. But still, perseverance had paid off, and after months of working on it, she was now able to say the words, mean them, and not balk at the thought of the reaction she'd get.

Tara half smiled at the other girl's obvious embarrassment and shrugged. "You're better now?" she asked.

"Getting there I think." Faith sighed. She picked up a branch that was lying by the pathway and began brushing it along the overgrown grass at the side of the track. The wind blew at her hair and she pushed it back, revealing her pale face and darkened eyes. "It gets kinda hard to start trusting people when you've never known what it's like. I mean," she turned to look at Tara, her jaw jutting out slightly, "don't get me wrong, these Council guys can get up your ass when they want to, but there's some good here, I guess. I've been training with some old guy; he's a pretty big wheel here. He's okay. Taught me a lot. Never knew I was supposed to take all this Slayer stuff so serious."

"Willow hates the Council." Tara said softly, her voice almost blown away by the gush of wind that surrounded them and the cry of seagulls overhead. She noticed the way that Faith flinched when the redhead's name was mentioned and lowered her gaze to avoid the haunted look entering the brown eyes fixed on her.

"She should," Faith agreed. "They've been nothin' but trouble for her and…and…Buffy." she finally managed to get out. "I was kinda in two minds at first."

"But?" Tara prompted gently, enjoying the way in which Faith was talking to her, so honestly and clearly. She glanced over at the aura of the girl, sensing a clarity that had hitherto escaped her. Something wonderful was happening to this Slayer, she thought, some kind of peace had entered her at last. It shone out of her like a beacon.

"But I guess sittin' in a jail cell for a couple of months helped me to think about things. I mean, think about me, I guess." Faith continued, "So when the Council guys worked somethin' out for me, I had options. And," she looked around her at the cliff top sloping up towards green fields, then down to where the ground dropped away to the water's edge. "I'd rather be out here working for them any day than stuck inside a hole…" she shook her head, "besides, I'm a Slayer. Guess that makes a difference to someone somewhere."

"It does, of course it does." Tara reinforced Faith's tentative suggestion. "It's a wonderful power."

"Yeah. Speaking of which," Faith turned to her and grinned crookedly, "What's the deal with you and Red? You two makin' with the smoochies?" She craned her head down and tried to look into Tara's face, which was flushing rapidly with colour. She could see by the reaction that she was right, and let out a triumphant laugh. "Well who'd have thought.?" she giggled. "You and Red. Guess that old magick thing really works huh?"

Tara couldn't resist grinning foolishly back at Faith. "I guess so," she answered. "Willow's something else; it's not like with anyone else I've ever known. Being with her is…" She stopped and flushed bright red again at her candour. "It's just, um, different, that's all. Special."

A strange expression flashed through Faith's eyes as a memory hit her hard in the chest. She felt the clenching of her heart and frowned slightly, trying to work it all out in her head before her feelings overwhelmed her. So much of her training recently had been about emotional control, that remembering she had feelings was almost like a new experience. The quiet honesty of the blonde girl had surfaced feelings she had hidden for far too long.

Turning towards the sea again, she stopped, drawing back her arm and flinging the stick off the edge of the cliff, never taking her eyes from it until it had disappeared, spinning down in a spiral towards the sea. She sat down on the long grass beside the path, Tara joining her, and looked out to the hills opposite. Drawing her knees up, she folded her arms around them and thought hard for a couple of seconds before speaking. That had been a new experience for her too, thinking before opening her mouth. She was kind of beginning to like it, although thinking too much always made her hungry.

"Special." She frowned slightly, turning to face the blonde witch. "Whaddya mean, special? I mean, like how?"

Tara pushed a strand of silver hair back behind her ear and pondered the question. How did she put into words the way that Willow made her feel? Were there words for the way that Willow made her feel? A kaleidoscope of emotion flooded her body as she remembered snatched moment, fleeting kisses, whispered words between them. It was so difficult to rationalise it all and force it to make sense. The way she felt just existed…hung between them like a shrouded mantle, enveloping them both in a deeper understanding, commitment and a friendship that was dearer to her than anything she had ever known.

"It's really hard to explain it," she began, "But it was the magick that brought us closer together, I mean, that really opened us up to one another." She saw Faith nodding imperceptibly and carried on, "When we first met it was like, oh here's another witch…but I think we both knew from the very first time we did a spell together that our connection was special. I felt it every time she was near me. It was kind of like a…a…presence, you know?"

Faith's mouth curved upwards in a tiny smile. She knew alright. Oh yes, she knew.

"When Willow and I were together, it was like we were the only two people who could do this; I mean, the only two people who could be connected in our magick." Tara's eyes glistened as she became more confident and the memories emerged as clear as day, "I've cast spells with other witches and it was never like it is with Willow. Sometimes I think we're the only two witches in the world. Just us, special and unique…" she broke off and laughed lightly, "Guess that sounds kind of silly to you huh?"

Faith closed her eyes against the sun and leant her head back for a second, letting the light wash over her face. She inhaled the fresh salty air deeply, held it, then let it out in a deep breath. Her brown eyes turned to look clearly at Tara, suddenly able to talk and be open. Special, she thought to herself. A familiar figure came into her head, reminding her of a once special feeling she had experienced. Yeah, special, she nodded inwardly.

"You kinda get a connection with someone who's like you," she said slowly. Tara grinned brightly and nodded. "Just the two of you doin' what you do. Like no one else in the world can do what you do." She took her arms from round her legs and leant back on the grass, replaying the many battles and fights she'd fought. Especially the ones where she'd not been alone. "Oh yeah," she sighed, almost to herself, "I know how that one goes…it's special alright." She paused, accepting the knowledge that came to her freely and without reserve. "Wicked special."

Willow sipped at the china cup that seemed to sit uncomfortably in her hand. Its fragile white skin pressed hotly against her fingers, and she set it down on the table in front of her. Merlin had led her into a room that opened out onto a terrace. Somehow, she had completely lost her bearings and was sat facing a huge, well cared for lawn, furnished only by a set of outdoor tables and chairs.

The terrace was walled by short, thick stone pillars supporting a low flat wall. Huge pots containing plants lined the wall and the table at which she sat was located in the centre of the terrace. Merlin sat on the other side of the table, having made tea in record time, and now proffered a plate with cookies on them. Willow took one gratefully, wondering what time it was, as her stomach was making faint growling noises in protest at not eating in the last few hours.

"Well then," Merlin smiled across at her, replacing the plate of cookies on the table. "Now we're both settled how about getting better acquainted? If my sources are right, you're not exactly a big fan of the Council m'dear."

Willow couldn't help flushing a scarlet red to match her jacket. How come he knew everything? She had a feeling that she couldn't lie to him even if she wanted to. And the way he sat back in his chair, dunking his cookie into his cup of tea before nibbling on it gently was so non-threatening she almost felt like blurting out the whole story to him.

"My friend Buffy used to work for them," she finally managed to say.

"Ah yes, the Slayer." Merlin nodded, smiling. "Quite a forthright young lady, if I say so myself." He looked across at Willow and his smile broadened, "Don't tell anyone, but I have a sneaking admiration for her you know. She's quite the girl. Knows her own mind. And it seems, several other people's too." His tone was light but not mocking. Willow felt herself warming to him more and more.

"She does good work," she said, always defending her best friend. "We all do, and the Council, they just seemed to ignore that. I mean, it just didn't seem fair the way they treated her…and Giles…" she added sadly, her voice tempered with affection for the Watcher librarian.

Merlin placed his cup on the table and pressed his lips together thoughtfully. One hand reached up to stroke his beard pensively and he glanced across at the redhead. "Mr Giles…" he said. A faint smile flickered over his lips just the once before he joined his hands together in his lap. "The Council has been here for almost as long as the Slayer has," he explained, "And Watchers come and go, just like the Slayers do. But," he paused, "I can honestly say that I've never come across such a close relationship between Slayer and Watcher before. Quite remarkable really. Such dedication to each other. I've not seen a relationship like that for," he sighed, "oh, years and years."

"You've seen other Slayers and Watchers?" Willow echoed, her interest sparked. She put down her cup and sat forward, watching the man intently.

"Oh yes." Merlin nodded. "I've been around for," he smiled again, "what seems like forever." He took a sip of tea from his cup and replaced it, wiping at his beard with what looked like an incredibly frail hand. "Did you know Willow, that the Slayer in medieval times was a girl who looked just like your friend Buffy?"

Willow shook her head wordlessly, the realisation of just who she was talking to finally sinking in. She felt her knees begin to tremble and pressed them firmly together. She could feel her bottom jaw beginning to gape open.

"I knew then that her type would come again. She wasn't popular with the Council back then either. And I told them, just as I told them when they decided to relieve Mr Giles of his duty, that relationship between Slayer and Watcher isn't something that can always be determined by rules and regulations." He sat back in his chair, looking out across the flat broad lawn, "Improvisation is always the key to success. Not adhering to some ancient text." His sharp bird- like gaze returned to the girl opposite him, "It's the same in magick isn't it Willow?"

"Oh yes!" she breathed, "Tara and I are always trying new…I mean, we sometimes just take a spell and rework it to…because sometimes that's the only way to get…once we conjured up a real…are you really Merlin?" her half sentences came out in a rush and she saw laughter bubble up in Merlin's eyes before he let out a huge guffaw.

"What do you think Willow?" he asked her, folding his arms across his chest. "The only thing that matters is what you believe in. Do you think I'm really Merlin?"

"Can you do magick?" Willow's eyes narrowed and she sat back in her chair, almost challenging him.

"Well, isn't that what you're here for?" he answered her question with a question. "I'm afraid that Robert Merryvale is good at his job but doesn't like explaining himself too much. You and your friend are here to work with me." He settled himself down in his chair and reached for his teacup again, "If you want to that is."

Part 7
The car journey back from the Council Headquarters had been much more animated than the one on the way there. Willow and Tara seemed grateful to be in each other's company and talked in low tones about their different experiences during the afternoon. Edith kept a sharp eye on them in the mirror as she guided her car along the same country roads she had taken on the outward journey. She still had her misgivings about the success of the two witches and Faith. In the end, she sighed to herself, only one of the girls could succeed. Only one could join forces with Faith, only one could complete the ritual. She hated to think of how it would affect them if either one had to work magicks without the other. They seemed so congruous with one another, as though they worked as a single unit, made of two.

Edith had heard about witches who had an almost unnatural connection with one another…she had even hoped to find her 'other'. But she had never seen anything quite like Willow and Tara. Their need for the other, made out of a mutual respect and love tempered every action, every word. It was almost uncanny how they seemed to know what the other was thinking…no, she corrected herself. They knew what the other was feeling instinctively. It was quite amazing to watch. Young Mr Giles had been right, she told herself, they certainly were an unusual pair.

In the back seat, Willow was in the middle of telling Tara all about Myrddin. She could barely get the words out in an order that made sense, her eyes were bright and glistened with the joy of a child who's just discovered the largest wrapped present in the world underneath their Christmas tree. She adored the way that Tara showed complete interest in her story, not jealousy. They had both heard of Myrddin, sure, mystical soothsayer and healer…all that stuff could be found on any search engine on the net. But they had hardly believed it was true, like, really true. And Willow had been sipping tea with him on a warm summer afternoon in the English countryside. Tara could hardly believe her ears.

"So was he like, all old and stuff?" she asked eagerly.

Willow grinned. "Yeah, white beard and everything. God Tara," she sighed, "I couldn't believe it when he said he'd heard about me…uh…about us. I mean, he wants to work with us. Can you believe it? Myrddin? And us?" Her voice lifted to an excited squeak as she grabbed her girlfriend's hand, "Think of the power he has, the spells he must know."

"So I guess you want to go back to the Council headquarters now then?" Tara asked in a teasing tone.

Willow blushed a little, lowering her eyes to her chest. She knew what Tara was getting at. The mere thought of seeing Faith again was enough to send her heart spiralling downwards again, adding a sour aftertaste to the meeting with Myrddin. The temptation of meeting with him again reminded her that in order to do that, she had to accept a meeting with Faith. She fought down the feelings of rebuttal that growled inside her.

Raising her gaze, she met Tara's blue eyes with an honesty that surprised even her. "Yeah, I wanna go back there," she said quietly.

Tara reached forward and squeezed her hand. The touch was simple, yet meaningful for them both. The smile that accompanied it warmed Willow's heart. "I know he'll help us both," Tara assured her, "You can cope with this Faith thing, I mean, she wants to change."

Willow let out a snort of laughter. "I'll believe that when it happens."

"It'll happen." Edith spoke for the first time, reminding the girls that she was still there with them. Two heads turned to look at her as she spoke to them, her eyes flicking between them in the mirror and the road ahead. "You'd be surprised at what Myrddin can accomplish."

"He's taking on a whole lot of trouble with Faith." Willow observed, an unkind tone creeping into her voice. She felt the slight pressure of Tara's fingers on her hand, as Edith pressed her lips together in what seemed like annoyance.

"You think Arthur managed a kingdom on his own? Fought battles and won them on his own? Prevented evil on his own?" Edith shook her head and slowed the car down, pulling over to the side of the road, finally stopping the car and twisting around in her seat. She cast a glance over the two witches, gazing back at her in innocence and wonder.

"You must realise that with great power and strength comes great responsibility," she said slowly, her aged face lined with more knowledge than the girls could ever guess at. "If you are ready, Myrddin will teach you great things." She paused for effect, letting her words sink into their minds, "If you aren't, then you will struggle to accept what you cannot understand."

"You mean Faith?" Willow asked, her voice a hushed whisper in the silence of the car.

"I mean everything." Edith replied. "The Council will test you to your limits, you should know that." A grim smile crossed her face and she briefly closed her eyes, remembering, "I know that." Her bright eyes gleamed at them once more as she regained control of her memories. "Just be ready to learn. And then you will." She turned back in her seat and resumed the journey once more. "The Council want you to stay at the house for a few days whilst you train with Myrddin," was the last thing she said the entire way home.

<

Looking out of the huge bay window of her room, Tara thought to herself once again how old-fashioned everything was here. She had been here for a day and still she could not adjust to the darkness of the high ceiling and mahogany furniture. In truth, she longed for the simplicity of Cookie's little bedroom in her cottage. The sheets were starched and scratchy on her skin and she found it difficult to relax in the sunken mattress of the four-poster bed that was to be her sleeping place for the next couple of weeks. The few days that Edith had tentatively suggested had been stretched interminably by Council protocol, meaning that all trips out she and Willow had planned were forgotten now. She looked down at her watch; the hands set grimly to the middle of the afternoon. Waiting for the wizard, she reminded herself, feeling the flutter of nerves within her stomach.

Still, she mused to herself; Willow loved it here. She had settled into the grandeur straight away, revelling in the old house and its store of books. The last time she had visited Willow, mystical tomes piled high on her bed had surrounded the redhead, reading away like there was no tomorrow. Seeing her like this, Tara could appreciate how much Willow had settled into life with the Council, even though it went against the redhead's way of thinking.

A sigh passed through her body. I just want to belong, she thought; I need to belong to something greater than myself. She had suspected that being with the Council would be a true test of her powers as a witch, something that her mother had told her she was born for. She had promised great things to her as a child, but delivered nothing. And, after the day when she had revealed her destiny to her, when she had told her of a place called Sunnydale and sent her there, Tara had found that her mother had just become an important person in her life who had guided her along her path. But what if I never find the right pathway? What if I never find what I'm looking for? It nagged at the back of her mind, ached away at her brain every day. And waiting like this, for the call from Myrddin wasn't helping. She glanced down at her watch again. Two minutes after the time she last looked.

A tentative knock at her door brought her back to the present. She turned just as the door creaked open on its steel hinges, expecting to see Willow in the entrance.

Faith stood, one hand on the thick wooden doorknob, the other shoved in her pockets. She looked almost self-conscious as she hovered around, a tentative smile on her face.

"Hey," she said, her gaze flickering around the room, landing anywhere but on the blonde witch herself.

"Oh. Hi. Um…hi Faith." Tara was shocked, but not displeased to see the Slayer. The same fearless Slayer who was still hovering in the doorway, shifting her slight body from foot to foot, a smile still creeping its way across her face. The lines that had etched their way around her eyes were still there, although they seemed less marked now, Tara thought to herself, as she watched how Faith wouldn't meet her gaze. There's something there, she reminded herself, something inside her still that wants acceptance. It was the same need she'd seen the other day, when she and Faith had been on the cliff top. Something Faith wanted to tell her but wasn't.

"Uh…so you up to much?" Faith flicked her dark hair back from her shoulders and shrugged the question across towards Tara.

"No. Just waiting for Myrddin to call us for training. Me and Willow I mean." Tara answered almost shyly.

"Hm." Faith shrugged again. "I just kinda wondered if you wanted to go for a walk or something. I mean," she shook her head, "no biggie if you wanna wait around for the big guy to call."

"No it's okay," Tara held up her hand, "I mean, I'm bored too. Just waiting around here…" her hand swept the expanse of the room and its dull interior, "This room kinda creeps me out a bit," she giggled at her own nervousness. "In fact, this whole house creeps me out."

Faith let out a short laugh, "I know what you mean," she bobbed her dark head up and down in agreement. "Trust these Council guys to choose the spookiest house in Britain for their headquarters. Sorta makes you think they take their job waaaay too seriously," she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Tara, who laughed even more.

The ice broken between them, Faith moved further into the room, eyeing the blonde witch carefully. Since that afternoon on the cliff top, she had been aware of an aura of calm Tara seemed to carry with her. No, not calm, maybe something else; like Tara was aware of exactly who she was and what she was capable of. Whatever it was, it attracted Faith, who desperately needed some peace in her life right now. She craved the peace she had felt the other day, with the sun on her face and the salty wind blowing through her hair. But she had also carried with her the knowledge that Tara was incredibly close to Willow, and she was forever on her guard because of that. Some bridges were harder to build than others.

"So…about that walk then?" she reminded Tara.

"Oh." Tara thought for a second then flashed Faith a bright smile. "Sure, why not. I'll let someone know so they can fetch me when Myrddin is ready. I could do with some fresh air anyhow. And that cliff top was so beautiful the other day."

"Uh huh." Faith shrugged, "You think that's good, wait 'till you see what the gardens are like."

Myrddin settled himself on the opposite side of the table to Edith Betts. He knew her of old, and words were no longer necessary between them. He eyed her carefully as she smoothed down her skirt and settled herself, placing her hands on the green velvet covering over the small circular table in front of them both. He had seen her grow from a young girl into a woman, it seemed, in the time it took to blink an eye. She had hardly changed at all. In his eyes, she was sometimes still the young girl he had trained all those years ago. In his immortal state of being, years blended into mere minutes as they passed down the annals of time, becoming flickering images of memories past. He knew that he carried each face, each soul within him as he invited people into his life and cast them out again, each one changing imperceptibly under his guidance.

When he had first taken up the duty he considered more sacred than obligatory, he had sworn never to falter, never to stop until the evil that scourged the land was gone. It had been a hard fight; one he found almost impossible at times, but never too much. Nothing was ever too much for him. The restless passage of time had taught him many things, but, above all, resilience.

"Ready?" he spoke one word to Edith.

She looked at him, met his piercing blue gaze with her own aged eyes. A curt nod indicated that the ritual begin. He spread his own hands on the velvet in front of him, his little finger reaching round until the tip touched Edith's own. Between their hands, a crystal ball settled on a wooden base, its surface reflecting the two faces above it in a distorted, uncanny alternate realism.

"Spirits of the nether realms, we come to you in supplication," Myrddin murmured, his voice a mere whisper in the darkened quiet of the room.

"As we are flesh, as we are spirit, as we are joined, so let us see your depths." Edith intoned; her eyes fixed on the mirrored surface of the crystal.

"Let thy will guide us, let thy secrets unfold to us another knowledge." Myrddin continued.

Edith felt the heat from his energies move towards her own through his fingertips. She concentrated on the crystal, her gaze blurring slightly as she let the magick run through her. "We ask thee in the name of Hermes, god of magick and communication, to show us the way. Guide us, touch us with your shape, let us know the answer we wish to find."

"So mote it be." Myrddin finished for her, closing his eyes for a brief second, before opening them and gazing deep into the crystal.

At first, to someone who might have been passing by and glanced down, the crystal ball seemed like a large glass orb. But if they had looked more closely, they would have seen clouds drifting inside the crystal, like a tiny television screen tuning into a picture, they grew clearer and more defined in shape.

After a minute or two, the clouds drifted by, revealing a clearer picture to the two onlookers. The light that shone from the middle of the crystal grew brighter, burning a white flame into the centre of the sphere. A tiny pinprick at first, it gained in size, billowing out like a flame towards the edges of the crystal, reaching for the glass sides, folding back on itself. Within the light, another image was forming. A woman. She had long blonde hair and defined, Anglo Saxon features. She wore long purple dress and had sandals strapped to her feet and ankles. Although her garb was set in the past, it seemed strangely contemporary, placing her in a nondescript time and place. Edith and Myrddin stared at the image, bringing it clearly into focus with their conjoined strength.

The woman was walking through a wooded pathway, surrounded on either side by tall, aged trees. She picked her way carefully through the undergrowth that sometimes caught at her dress, but never prevented her movement. She stepped easily, with an acquired confidence that shone from her strong features and her determined gait.

She reached a clearing in the forest, and stopped, looking around her as though she was being followed. A frown crossed her face as she tried to seek out the eyes that were upon her. Her hair, tied in several braids that hung around her face, swung from side to side as she seemingly sniffed the air like an animal.

Edith watched in horror as the figure in the crystal smiled to herself. A sly, knowing smile that spread her lips evenly across her face and barely touched her eyes. She closed her eyes and bent her head down to her chest, clasping her hands together in front of her. Her mouth moved, although neither Edith nor Myrddin could make out what she was saying. She pressed her hands together so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

Suddenly, she threw her head back and, it seemed, gazed into the two pairs of eyes observing her. She met their gazes evenly and clearly, her own dark eyes flashing with a black fire. Her hands parted, became outstretched as she flung her arms from her body. A bolt of pure blinding light shot upwards from the arc her head and hands created, burning its way up towards the top of the crystal.

As it hit the crystal's edge, a loud cracking sound echoed throughout the room, and light burst forth from the orb, shooting its way up into the room. It blasted through the connection between Edith and Myrddin, sending them thudding back into their chairs, both gasping out loud at the power pushing them away from each other. Their fingertips moved, lost the touch of the other, as they felt the dark magick push at them, repel their combined force.

The crystal flickered once more…and then went black, the picture gone.

Minutes later, hours it seemed in the mortal mind of Edith Betts, she stirred from her position in the chair, feeling its hard edge cutting into her back. She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to shake off the darkness that was nibbling away at her white consciousness. Her worried gaze met Myrddin's across the table; he was already recovered and had joined his hands together on the velvet edge in front of him. He took a deep breath and enquired with a rise of his eyebrows if she was all right.

"I'm fine," she answered him. "Although that wasn't quite what I was expecting."

"Quite," he answered. His face, usually so impassive during these rituals, held an expression of what seemed like concern. "She's more powerful than ever before. Her magicks have grown and multiplied in ways I had not anticipated."

"Meaning?" Edith wasted no time in asking why, or how, or when.

Myrddin nodded towards the crystal on the table. As Edith followed his gaze, she saw a sight that chilled her. The crystal had a huge crack streaking like a gash across its surface. The cut reached down towards its centre, ripping the solidity apart as though it had been made of a soft malleable material. She gasped aloud, returning her eyes to Myrddin's soft blue gaze, pensive and not a little troubled.

"We need to act very quickly," was all he said.