English Rains: Seven


see part one for disclaimer

"You're right. We do need to talk."

At least Willow was handling this like an adult. Gods, like an adult. Giles thought.She's grown, now...isn't she? He got out of bed and stood, unashamed of his nudity in front of the seventeen-year-old girl whose arms he'd fallen asleep in the night before.

"First," she said. "What do we tell the others?"

"Do we even tell the others?" he asked. "Do you want them to know?"

"Not really. Imagine Oz's reaction." she sighed. "God, how stupid of me! Oz! What am I going to say to him?"

He grimaced as he moved to the armoire to retrieve his robe. Willow, meanwhile, was pulling on his discarded shirt from the night before. She obiously anticipated a long conversation. "Again," he said. "Do you want to tell him?"

"No." she said forcefully. "I think it's best that this stay between you and I."

The little voice in Giles' head cheered. The relief must have shown on his face, because Willow smirked.

"Not interested in letting the police know you've been fucking one of your underage students?" She moved across the room and put her hands on the lapels of his bathrobe. Her lips went to his ear, and she whispered. "Even though I wanted it as much as you did?"

He shuddered as her teeth grazed his earlobe. She pulled away and smiled. "I've been wanting this for a long, long, time. I'm glad you didn't go all stodgy and English on me."

Giles bristled. "What? Is this a game for you?"

Willow pulled away angrily. "I could ask you the same question! What makes you think that I would...would use you like that? Do you think this was just a cheap thrill for me?!"

The Englishman sighed and pinched two fingers on the bridge of his nose. She quickly pulled his hand away from his face. "Look at me, Giles!" His eyes snapped up to meet hers. "Do you think I would even consider sleeping with someone I didn't care for? I'm not a slut, Giles."

"I never said that." he said quietly. "I don't think that at all."

Willow took a deep breath in an obvious effort to calm down. "Then what do you think?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"I think we've made a mistake." he answered. "I don't think this should have happened. I've taken advantage of you, and you have every reason in the world to hate me."

Willow turned away. "Alright, then. Maybe I should."

And with that, she collected her things and left the suite.

That day, Willow was initiated into the Watchers by Bryan, who had volunteered to stand in for his son, who had claimed illness. Bryan noticed that Willow had been quite stoic during the bloodletting and intercourse; it was as though she'd expected it. When the power infused her small body, she'd screamed in anguish, like all the other initiates; but, unlike others, she had absorbed the scream, doubling it back into herself and somehow using it to amplify the effect.

Fire sparkled in her eyes as she stood up from the floor; the last incantations were complete, and she was now a Watcher. Magick had changed her hair from its deep copper color to a more fire-engine red, and her eyes, once a pale, springy green, were now the color of an evergreen after a rainstorm. Bryan recalled a prophecy he'd once read:

The Watcher, joined in anger;
the pale turned to dark,
the brances of a weeping tree,
will only help her spark.
And she will save a Slayer,
and she will aid a Watcher;
but only she, the angry one
can mend their broken hearts.

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