Xander peeked around the doorway into the classroom. Willow sat at the desk up front, reading a book with an intense concentration. He wondered if she were studying Unix codes or Latin incantations and got a queasy feeling in his stomach. When did all this stop being fun? he wondered. Well, it had never been all jollies, from Day One when his second best bud Jesse had died. Before then everything had been simple: Xander, Willow, and Jesse. Cordelia, the Arch-Nemesis. And he'd spent his summers reading comic books instead of musty old tomes.
Willow looked up from her book and smiled at him. Xander saw now that it was a paperback on programming Java, and he relaxed somewhat. He smiled back.
She rose and moved to the doorway. "Class is almost over," she whispered to Xander, nodding at the small group of summer-school students she'd been tutoring. "We could go for ice cream then."
"Yeah," he said. "I'd really like that."
"Why don't you go ask Cordelia and Oz while I finish up?"
Xander looked away. "Let's just the two of us go -- like old times."
Willow took his hand in hers. "We can't go back to those times, Xander."
"Not even for one hour?"
"We'd just be kidding ourselves," she said patiently.
Xander was struck suddenly by how serious, how grown-up she looked. He felt very young next to her. "Cordy's mad at me," he admitted. "Again."
"Cordelia always forgives you," Willow said. "Bet she'd do it again for ice cream."
Xander tried to keep from smiling, but couldn't help it.
"There, you see? You know it too. Wait here and we'll go ask them together." She hesitated, frowning. "You think Giles would go?"
He couldn't hide the scowl either. "Nah, he's stuck-in- a-boring-book guy again tonight. He can stay there."
"Xander, leave him alone. He's only doing what I want."
"Yeah, but he's supposed to be the responsible one --" Xander cut himself off. He and Willow had already been around this one several times. Unlike Cordelia, Willow didn't often lose her temper, but he could never shake her out of her 'resolve face' either. "Willow, I don't like it. You and Giles are set on doing this and don't give a damn what the rest of us think. Okay. But don't expect to see me in the cheering section."
"That's all right then. It's nice that you're worried. But don't be mad at Giles. If you're gonna yell at someone, yell at me."
"You know I can't stay mad at you," Xander said plaintively.
Willow grinned at him. "Wait. I'll be done here in ten minutes."
Giles sat on the edge of the library table, a large leather-bound book propped open in front of him, and absently checked out the scrying spell set-up for the fiftieth time. And for the forty-ninth time he found everything in order. He sighed and shut the book again. He was actually quite impressed with Willow's first effort. If she hadn't tried that insane substitution with the scrying orb first time out, she might have gotten some productive results.
It only took one small but pivotal mistake in the practice of the black arts, however, to make it your last mistake. And regardless of the success of the casting, there was always a price.
Giles wondered again (for the fiftieth time) if he were making a mistake in encouraging her in this. He rose from the table and paced back to his office.
He'd been second-guessing himself far too much lately. Psychologically perhaps it was a healthy reassessment of his fallibility as a human being, certainly it was healthy in anyone thinking about delving in the magic arts, but for a Watcher it could be disastrous.
Hell only knew when it would all level out. If there were some way for a Watcher to resign, he'd have to consider it at this point. But even if there had been precedent, he couldn't leave as long as there was some chance that Buffy would return. That decision, at least, was one he really had no need to second-guess. Which didn't stop him from doing so.
Giles stopped by his desk, pulled the change and keys from his pocket and dropped them on the top. After a brief hesitation, he loosened his tie and reached around his neck to pull up the slender silk cord and rose quartz amulet attached to it. He caressed the stone with his thumb for a moment, before dropping it beside the other items. After a quick pat-down, he added his silver cross-shaped tie tack to the collection.
The scrying spell was simple; nothing was likely to go wrong if they didn't deviate from the prescribed set-up. But small semi-magical things, even base metal, could cause unpredictable effects. He wanted things to be as unproblematic as possible for Willow's casting.
"Giles?" she called from the next room.
"Here," he called back and emerged from his inner sanctum.
The other Slayerettes had accompanied her. Xander and Cordelia had seated themselves at the table, Xander keeping a low profile. Oz stood next to Willow, talking to her. The young man had a guitar case in one hand.
"I'll be fine," Willow was insisting. "Go on, you have a gig! Besides, Giles says that we'll get better results if it's just the two of us. Fewer brain waves scrambling the reception."
"I didn't actually put it that way," Giles amended. He took out a lighter and started to light the candles that he had set up around the small hand-mirror.
"Same difference," Willow said. She looked in puzzlement at his set-up. "This isn't the same."
"No, this is the simpler spell." Giles continued with his arrangements. "I don't understand why you started with the more elaborate casting."
Willow looked embarrassed. "I figured it was more powerful, so I'd get better results. Besides, this set-up required a cat's eye." She looked dubiously at the small orb set at center of the mirror.
"Euww, where'd you get it?" Cordelia said, craning to see.
"Ernie's Rock Shop," Giles replied. "Chrysoberyl is not all that hard to come by."
"Oh." Willow picked up the gemstone.
"You thought it meant the squishy kind, huh Will?" Xander said.
"Well, lots of those spells do use the grosser stuff."
Giles glanced at her and mentally sighed. Willow Rosenberg -- Novice of the Black Arts and Defender of All Things Warm and Fuzzy. He couldn't wait to see what she'd do with the more amphibian spell components. It would all be quite amusing if her natural compassion and quirky squeamishness weren't apt to steer her into dangerous detours.
"That's it then," he said as he lit the last candle. "Willow, take off any jewelry or metal you have about you and give it to me."
"You can get a good price for that stuff at the pawn shop next to Ernie's." Xander, incapable of resisting a quip, had forgotten his low profile.
"We're simplifying the environment." Willow took off her necklace and watch and handed them to Giles. "Getting rid of all the distractions."
Giles walked to deposit her jewelry on his office desk, then went to dim the library lights.
"You know, my cousin Vinny had this tooth filling that did that kind of thing -- it got this Moscow Idaho radio station," Xander continued. "And sometimes the radio station got Vinny."
"Ready," said Giles, and looked at the other three Slayerettes. "And speaking of distractions. . ."
"We're out of here," Oz said. "Xander and Cordelia are going to help me with my set-up."
"What?!" Cordelia yelped "When did I say I'd do that? I can't be a roadie. I just had a manicure!"
"There'll be munchies for everybody helping out," Oz said over his shoulder.
Xander perked up. "We're there!" He looped Cordelia's arm through his. "Com'on, honey. We'll put you to work at the door as a bouncer. All you have to do is wave your manicure at them." As they pushed past the library doors, he glanced at Willow, then glared briefly at Giles.
Willow huffed and sat on the table. "I'm sorry Xander's being such a jerk."
"Don't worry yourself, Willow," Giles said softly. "He's taken the role of conscience in this. It's a thankless task." He opened the old book to the proper page and laid it out on the table in front of her.
Willow looked up at him. "I can handle this. Really. I wish you and Xander would stop worrying so much."
"Humor me then." Giles studied the set-up for the fifty- first time. "I think we're ready. I suggest you take several minutes to clear your thoughts first." He stepped back.
"Aren't you going to help?"
"It's your casting, Willow. I'm here for you if something goes wrong or if you require assistance, but otherwise I'm merely an observer."
She looked apprehensive and yet pleased at the same time. Good, he thought. A mixture of confidence and caution. Just what she needs.
"Okay," Willow said, and shut her eyes.
Giles stepped quietly to one side and waited, trying to be still, to avoid distracting her.
It was hot in the library. (Snyder was obviously trying to cut costs again by cutting back on the air conditioning -- he'd have to have a word with the principal yet again.) The silence and the dark seemed to concentrate the heat. Willow's skin was damp with the heat. Strands of auburn hair stuck to her cheeks. Her face, relaxed in the shimmering candle-light, took on an almost unworldly beauty. He felt his heart skip a painful beat. For a moment in the flickering light, he'd seen aspects of Jenny in her features.
Get a grip, old man, he thought to himself. He had to stop seeing Jenny everywhere he looked; his inability to let her go had already proved to be a fearsome vulnerability. One he couldn't afford if he was going to guard the lives of those still left to him.
The young woman frowned, and abruptly was Willow again. She glanced at Giles, then reached up to scratch her nose and push a damp strand of hair from her eye.
Chastening himself, Giles attempted to clear his mind as he'd told her to clear hers. This may prove to be easier said than done for both of us, he thought wryly. He flexed his left hand, working at the pain there. He'd foregone his usual evening dose of painkillers in anticipation of this casting. He had to start cutting back anyway, but he'd hoped that they'd become less of a physical need by now. The ache in his ribs and lower back, the sharper pain in his hand, belied that hope. He focused on them anyway: nothing like physical pain to keep one in the here and now.
Willow drew a steadying breath, opened her eyes, and leaned over the book before her.
"Four quarters to where I Am. Open the Eye of the Mirror. Open the Eye of the Water. Open the Eye of the Flame. Open the Eye of the Wind." She waved her hand over the candles, which flickered madly and continued to flicker even after she drew her hand away. Giles felt an icy chill run down his spine.
Willow pulled a golden strand of Buffy's hair from the brush and fed it to a flame. "-- Open the Eye of the Mind; Seek her out, wherever she stands --" Another hair across the water on the surface of the mirror. Her voice was gathering in confidence and power as she moved into the cadences of the spell casting. Giles knew what she was feeling: the sense of natural and supernatural forces focusing upon oneself. It was, he knew, an incredible rush. And incredibly easy to get lost in.
There was a definite wind flowing through the library now, warm and dusty and scented with thunder and sage. Something moved somewhere just below the threshold of hearing. The mirror on the table was emitting a pale blue light. Willow leaned over it, entranced, as if she were trying to move into it.
Giles took a step backwards, forcing himself to disengage from the seductive pull of the gathering magic. He was here for Willow, to provide a safety for her. At the moment her well-being was all that could matter, was more important even than the images that had started to shift across the face of the mirror.
He caught the barest glimmer of an image of Buffy's face, impossible to clearly discern at this angle, and it was all he could do to keep himself from rushing forward to see for himself what the mirror was revealing --
-- and abruptly the glass went dark. The wind blew a final hard gust, guttering then extinguishing the candles.
Willow slumped face first into the book.
Giles hurried forward to catch her by the shoulders before she could collapse any further into her faint. She was breathing hard, but clutched at his arms with a rapidly recovering strength.
"Ugh --" Willow gasped, "Wow. Dizzy. Wanna lie down a minute."
Giles helped her ease off the chair onto the floor and took off his jacket to cover her with. She was shaking violently. "It's all right," he reassured her, squeezing her hand. "This is the usual sort of post-casting reaction, particularly if you haven't done the spell before. Just relax. You'll start feeling better in a minute or two."
He got up to retrieve a small flask from a nearby table and offered it to her. Willow took a sip and started coughing. "Whoa! What is that?"
"Brandy." Giles recapped the flask. "And no, you can't have any more than that."
As predicted, her shakes had gone away almost as soon as they'd started. Willow struggled to a sitting position, pulling his jacket closer around her. "That was it?" she said finally. "A couple of fuzzy images and 'poof'?"
"Poof?" Giles said.
"I was hoping for --" Willow scowled.
"Full matinee double feature?" He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.
"Well, I was hoping for a good trailer at least." Post- casting let-down. Willow sat in a dejected huddle on the floor. She finally looked up at him and smiled shakily. "But she's alive, isn't she? I mean, somehow I know that was the desert. And there was neon. I think maybe she's in Nevada, Giles. Can we try again? I think maybe I could focus better."
"We can try again, but not tonight." He wanted to -- Lord did he want to. Giles briefly considered taking over the casting from her. Responsibility to Willow edged out the impulse, but just barely. She was in no condition now to be playing backup to him, and he was trying to set a decent example to her, to keep her from trying the same sorts of dangerously impulsive things he'd just been contemplating.
He set a hand beneath her elbow and helped Willow to her feet.
"I'm feeling fine," she protested.
"I have no doubt you are. Are you hungry?" Giles regarded her intently.
"No --" She blinked once as she reassessed her physical state. "Well, kind of. I mean, I could probably eat a bucket of Häagen-Daz right now, but it's not like I have to eat right now."
Giles went into his office to get her things. "I'll drop you by the Bronze," he said as he reemerged. "Relax for the rest of the night." He handed her the jewelry and then a pen and notebook. "And keep a record. Write down what you're feeling -- hunger, anxiety, sleepiness, depression."
"I'm feeling like trying again," Willow said stubbornly.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure you do." Giles steered her to the door. "Willow, I'm serious. Spell casting affects different people in different ways. I need to know how it's going to affect you. So write." He tapped the notebook. "Everything. I'm going to want to read this before we attempt another casting."
"Oh, all right." Willow tried to pout, but broke out in a shy smile instead. "You're Watching me."
"Well," he said, embarrassed, "somebody must."
"It's nice. That you're looking out for me, I mean. She hurriedly jotted a note, then tucked the notebook into the pocket of her jumper. "We're Bronzing it, then."
"You are 'Bronzing it'," Giles said. "I have some books to go through. I may be able to come up with something that will improve our results next time we try this."