The soft glow and gentle warmth of October sunlight fell across the bed in a wide belt, dragging Willow from the sort of deep sleep that only the truly sated can achieve. Consciousness brought awareness, and with awareness came memories. They flooded back in, bringing with them an appreciation of why she ached in certain places, and a suffusion of blood to her face. He lay behind her, his body pressed against hers still, sweet and protective and devoted even in sleep.
She’d always known Oz had that gentle loving side to his nature, but last night he’d shown her the other Oz, wild, hot and a little scary; in a really sexy way, of course. It had been their first time consummating their rekindled relationship, and he’d wanted to lay himself bare, be really present, in the moment with her. Willow had agreed and what transpired had been a revelation.
Of course they hadn’t rushed things. Oz had been at Ashdown for five and a half weeks now. They hadn’t leapt straight back into a romantic relationship, given how her relationship with Kennedy had only just run its course. But they had spent heaps of time just hanging out. Willow spent the mornings at the Academy, teaching or working in her administration role, and even Oz was gainfully employed by the Academy now, teaching the optional Year 10 music class. But in the afternoons the two of them would wander about the estate really getting to know one another again and enjoying re-establishing their friendship.
Although they’d ‘caught up’ in L.A., they hadn’t really had time to share all of the little details, the day-to-day minutiae that make up the colour and pattern and texture of life’s tapestry. So she’d told him all about her relationship with Tara, the joys and the sorrows, the raptures and the regrets and about how she still felt the gentle witch by her side every single day. She’d also outlined the highs and lows of her other significant lover, magic, and how she had blossomed and matured as she uncovered her skills and talents, gaining confidence and self-assurance as her ability to contribute to the Scoobies grew, but how quickly she’d developed an addiction to and dependence on the sense of control and pride that her abilities brought with them.
Oz had commiserated with and commended her for the journey she’d taken to acknowledge and master the darkness in her. His admiration for the significant role that she had within Amazon International, and particularly in setting up and overseeing Ashdown, was genuine and straightforward. He saw ‘Chairman of the School Board Willow’ as a reflection of the girl who colour coded her books and tutored other kids and spent all her spare time researching, a return to her roots.
He spent days telling her about his journey, and the people he’d met along the way. He’d told her of the months he’d spent in Central America and Europe, looking for help to control his transformations. He’d shared tales of his time in Tibet and the Buddhist monks who’d helped him connect to his subconscious at a deep level using charms, herbs, chanting and meditation, and how he learned to re-programme his subliminal schema so that he could override or regulate the wolf change. But he’d had to work at it, his early successes too unstable to withstand the impact of stress, anger or jealousy. After his capture by the Initiative, he’d gone back to Tibet where he’d immersed himself in further study, seeking physical and emotional balance and spiritual enlightenment.
Meeting his friend Bayaarma, also a werewolf, had been the turning point for both of them. Together they’d travelled to Mendong in western Tibet and were taken in by the monks at the local Bonpa monastery, where they studied the ancient Tibetan religion of Bon. They spent months learning various tantric practices, whose goals included the transformation of all experience into bliss, the release from negative conditioning, and the development of control over perception and cognition by connecting to the earth flow. Ultimately they were able to release their wolf spirits back into the natural world instead of suppressing them.
Their life together had been idyllic, and Oz had been very tempted to settle down with Bay. He was attracted to the Tibetan girl and knew they could have made a life together, but something seemed to call him away, drawing him back to the States. Back to Willow he reflected, his soul searching for the rest of himself. Part of him was always seeking out her essence, listening for her call. Oz was adamant that he knew exactly when Willow had lost Tara, that his wolf-spirit had writhed and howled in sorrow at the deep well of pain it could sense from its mate, even from the other side of the world.
Willow had blanched somewhat at that, the thought that some part of Oz considered her his mate. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Part of her heart had always belonged to him, he was her first love, and while they had been together he had loved her quietly but fiercely, even forgiving her betrayal with Xander. And there was no denying their reunion had been exciting, sweet, and easy: a mere glance seeming to fire an almost effortless connection to that deep well of affection they had for one another.
But there were two issues that made her pause in considering a more permanent relationship with Oz. The first of course was Tara. Her love for the gentle Wiccan had been overwhelming, all consuming, and despite her earlier love for Oz, she had ever since felt that Tara was her ‘one’, her one and only. She wasn’t really concerned with issues of orientation, and didn’t much care for labels, so the boy/girl thing wasn’t the problem. What concerned her more was whether falling back in love with her first love would somehow negate or diminish her love for Tara. Was it an act of disloyalty she wondered? Was she betraying Tara’s memory? She felt so conflicted about it, enough so that she knew she was holding back a corner of herself from Oz.
She hadn’t felt like this when she’d fallen for Kennedy. Mind you she’d hadn’t felt as deeply for Kennedy as she did for Oz. And really, she’d never expected to feel that sense of deep, abiding, soul-touching love again, resigned to settling for contentment rather than passionate love. And maybe, just maybe, a little part of herself felt that she didn’t deserve the light and joy of real love again, that she’d earned too many black marks on the karmic check list to warrant another chance at the real thing.
Which brought up her second reservation. She thought herself possibly too dark for Oz these days. She saw this sweet, funny, gentle guy, his love for her simple and easy. But the black streaks that marred her soul were permanent stains. She was past denying the darker things she’d done in her life, and the dangerously addictive side of her personality that craved power and control, would always seek out opportunities to be in charge, to shape things to her liking and bend things to her will. Hopefully, heading up the Academy’s board was a positive and healthy channel for her natural inclinations, but Willow knew she’d always have to watch her self, second guess her actions and decisions lest she lose control.
But she was definitely a much different person than the shy, sweet, brilliant but geeky girl that Oz fell in love with at High School. The girl that Oz’ wolf self considered its mate no longer existed, and Willow wasn’t sure if they’d be able to find a balance in their relationship that would suit the people they’d each become.
But she needn’t have worried about that. Last night really had been a revelation.
It had all started late on Saturday morning when they’d received a call, Giles phoning from Northern India to request help with a band of marauding werewolves causing havoc in the high country bordering Nepal. Nandish and his Slayers had been the ones to raise the alarm, reports of recent attacks coming to them from neighbouring Himachal Pradesh where they’d just tracked down and recruited two slayers. They’d established a base and talked to locals but they wanted Oz’ wolf senses and expertise to help track the pack and evaluate the level of danger they posed. And help hunt and eradicate them if necessary.
Unusually, Dawn was at home. She and Andrew, having completed the scan of China, were both just having the weekend off, the teenage girl to catch up on school work and blob out in front of the TV and the techno geek to work with Willow on ways to tie Dawn’s key powered scrying abilities and the track and trace technology together to create a fully integrated, fully automated Slayer identification package. Not before time as Dawn had had enough of the endless portalling and scanning.
So it was that Dawn was available to open up a portal to an Ashram in the tiny village of Malpa on the border between Uttarakhand and Nepal. Willow and Oz stepped through first in front of a Rescue Remedy laden Andrew, still a highly anxious portaller, who nervously shuffled his way through the glowing doorway, Dawn’s firm hand on his back.
The cold, thin air of the high altitude hit them immediately, all four of them panting slightly as they struggled to adjust to the decreased levels of oxygen. It seemed to affect Oz much less, the wolf having spent so much time in these parts over recent years. In fact as he gazed through the sparse forest and rocky landscape towards the towering Himalayan mountains, his usually stoic expression reflected some depth of emotion that seemed almost to border on sentimentality.
The events that unfolded were swift and violent. The group had been met by Giles and Nandish, who had shared the information they had on the size of the pack and their location. Althanea and Cat had opted to stay behind at the Ashram while the others went out hunting. Giles, even more attentive and solicitous of his wife’s well-being than he had been at Ashdown, openly petted and cossetted her before setting out with the group.
The group was neither small nor lacking in power, two Watchers, three Slayers, a witch, a werewolf, a key and an Andrew (who was uncharacteristically quiet and twitchy). They’d gathered up weapons, axes and broadswords, and donned full-length, studded leather gauntlets and vests before scrambling into Nandish’s seven seater van, Andrew blushing as he’d offered to squeeze into the front seat between the two Watchers.
They’d headed out on one of the forest roads. It was late afternoon and the sinking sun signalled the impending dusk. Despite the chill air, Oz had the side window open so that he could scent the air outside as they were driving. They hadn’t gone far before he had asked Nandish to pull over. They had all clambered out and stood silently, weapons in hand, waiting for Oz to give them some sort of signal. With Sagaria clutched in his right hand, he’d stalked forward slowly on silent feet, pausing every few feet to listen and sniff. Suddenly he’d taken off, running rapidly, even in human form, weaving agilely in and out of trees and over boulders. The Slayers and Nandish kept up easily, the others doggedly bringing up the rear.
About two miles northwest of the van they’d come to a clearing. Oz had stopped and silently signalled the others to stay behind him. Willow had been one of the tail enders, puffing rather heavily as she’d jogged as fast as she could through the trees to where her auburn haired boyfriend stood, silhouetted by the dim light illuminating the grassy glade. By the time she’d joined him, the leader of the were pack was slinking out of the woods on the far side.
As soon as Oz spotted the wolf he’d muttered “Monroe!” and growled! A full on wolfy growl! Willow hadn’t understood it, but for some reason that growl had vibrated through her body, leaving her tingly in all the right places. Or wrong places, seeing as they’d been in the middle of a confrontation.
In Oz’ typically stoic fashion, the growl was a welcome, a warning and a question all rolled into one. The wolf, Monroe, had answered it by attacking, bounding across the small break and leaping straight at Oz while the rest of his pack sprang towards Nandish, Pritika, Vinesha and Rajani. The wolves were huge, powerful, and even the Slayers had struggled to defend themselves against their sharp claws and deadly, slavering jaws. Utmost in their minds was the thought of that toxic saliva, its price more chilling than death.
But they hadn’t been without weapons themselves. While Nandish and the girls fought in armed combat, Willow had joined Giles, Andrew and Dawn in attacking the wolves with magic – simple flame-shots or immobilisation spells. As a group they were holding their own, possibly even winning.
Oz and Monroe were still engaged in deadly battle, and what the man lacked in claws and teeth he made up for in terms of speed and agility, and the powerful battle-axe he wielded. Oz was battered and torn, but Monroe sported a deep gash on his left flank that was definitely hurting him. As a final, desperate measure, the wolf had leapt high, right over Oz’ head, straight at Willow, who, working a spell on a wolf to her right, had been oblivious to her own danger until Monroe was almost upon her. She’d felt the wolf’s hot ravening breath waft across the side of her head and had turned just in time to see the massive beast bearing down on her.
Before she’d had the chance to utter a simple incantation or even move a muscle, a fearsome howl had broken out from her left and instantaneously, a blur of movement, a flash of dark auburn fur and Monroe had been knocked to her right. The two wolves had gone down in a tangle of lupine limbs as they’d growled and snapped and torn at one another. In a final furious burst, the smaller, darker wolf had ended up astride the larger, brown one, his jaws locked around Monroe’s neck, his teeth embedded deep in the flesh, blood and saliva dripping onto the grass beneath their exhausted bodies.
Monroe had yelped and lowered his head and the victor had released him and stepped back, towards Willow, sniffing, whining and rubbing up against her legs. The red headed witch, who had been shocked into immobility throughout the short, brutal exchange, finally snapped out of it and reached down to thread her fingers through the auburn pelt, kneading and stroking the wolf that pressed up against her.
With a shudder and a whimper, the muscles beneath her fingers had begun to shorten and bunch up, most of the soft fur had been rapidly shed, littering the ground beneath their feet and the wolf had begun to shoot into an upright position. Within seconds, the figure standing before her had morphed into Oz. He stared intently into her eyes, his expression begging an answer to his silent question. Willow’s hand, which had remained on the back of his neck throughout the transformation, pressed firmly, bringing him towards her so that she could press a kiss to his forehead.
It was at that point that Willow had realised two things. First, that this man would do anything for her, even let loose his hard fought leash over the wolf, in order to keep her safe. By doing that, she’d understood that the wolf inside of him provided a darkness, a danger that balanced out her own. And at that moment, she’d let down the barriers, loving Oz without reservation, all of him, the man and the wolf.
Secondly, she’d realised that Oz was naked. Not only naked, but fully aroused, some part of him responding to his efforts to protect his mate, sensing her absolute acceptance of him. He’d been nuzzling her neck and rubbing himself against her and she’d been about to let out a moan of encouragement when a nearby branch had snapped and her eyes had popped open, reminding her of just where they were.
The battle had seemingly ended with Monroe’s incapacitation, and the other wolves had clustered protectively around their downed leader. The humans were more scattered, mostly standing or sitting in the spots where they’d been fighting. But all of the beings present, the eight wolves and seven other humans, were staring at Willow and the naked man wrapped around her with a range of expressions, including shock, suspicion, amusement (Dawn), and awe (Andrew).
Willow had blushed and eeped, before pulling off her jacket and wrapping it around Oz’ waist, tying the sleeves on his hip so that it covered all the vital parts. It had still taken a little while for him to calm down enough to be able to turn around without his makeshift skirt being all pointy in the front region, but in typical Oz fashion he’d seemed to find it amusing rather than embarrassing, so Willow had just boldly followed his example, shrugging off hanging out with her naked, excited, wolf-morphing boyfriend as a normal, everyday occurrence.
Eventually he’d been ‘relaxed’ enough to pick up the scythe and go and speak with Monroe, along with Giles and Nandish. She hadn’t been part of the negotiations, but could make out some of the ‘discussion’. There’d been a bit of growling (the pack), a lot of threatening language (mainly from Giles) and some axe waving (Oz) but in the end the wolves had slunk off, each one having given their assurance that they would refrain from attacking humans in exchange for their freedom. If any of them ever broke their vow, their lives would be forfeit. Oz also made them promise to reconsider undergoing the rituals needed to release the wolf.
The straggly band of scratched, banged up humans had turned and headed back towards the van. As soon as they’d got there and Oz was assured of the recruitment team’s safety, he got Dawn to reopen the portal, eager to get Willow home to Ashdown. And so Willow’s day of revelations continued.
They’d made their excuses as soon as they’d stumbled through the portal, off to shower, dress and nap. But Dawn and Andrew’s almost permanent looks of amusement and awe signalled a distinct dose of scepticism.
They did in fact bathe. They had tumbled into Willow’s apartment entwined in one another’s arms, Sagaria pressed up against her back as Oz held her and the scythe at the same time. Desperate and driven, they’d separated only long enough to drop the axe onto the foot of her bed as they stumbled through to the bathroom and drag her clothes and his jacket-skirt off before stepping under the warm water of her shower. Oz had thrust his face under the running water, scrubbing it roughly, eager to clean off the wolf blood and saliva so that he could finally kiss his love, then he’d drawn her towards him, pressing soft kisses across her face, down her nose and finally, finally to her mouth. That soft, clever, wicked mouth that he’d dreamed of for so many years.
They’d devoured one another, desperate for connection now that permission had been sought and granted at last. Slippery, soapy hands had stroked and fondled, driving their need for one another higher. With a roar, Oz had flipped off the water and picked Willow up, cradling her in his arms as he’d carried her through to the bedroom.
The first time had been soft and sweet and gentle, both of them exchanging loving words and deeds, clutching at one another as Oz drove his thick cock into her molten quim, her breathless spasms heralding his release. Afterwards they’d lain entangled together, sharing their love for one another, their dreams and plans for the future.
“What about the wolf?” Oz had asked eventually, “Can you accept that part of me?”
“Oz, the wolf is you,” Willow had said. “I saw that today. You changed to protect me, the wolf stopped short of killing Monroe even when it could have, and later on snuggled up against me like a gentle puppy dog. I could feel your love for me even in wolf form. Besides,” she’d added, “Wolf Oz is kinda sexy.”
“I’m glad you think so, because Wolf Oz finds Willow very, very sexy. That hard on this afternoon didn’t happen just as I morphed back. The wolf was hard for you already.”
Willow’s heart had skipped a beat and she’d started tingling all over her body, heated blood pooling in her groin and breasts. What would it be like she’d wondered.
“Do you trust me baby?” he’d asked.
Willow had stared at him, all big eyed and breathless and simply nodded. He’d swooped in for another kiss, flicking her nipples as his tongue danced with hers. His right hand had travelled south, stroking her flat belly and softly rounded hip before edging down to her neatly trimmed curls. She’d moaned and twitched as he’d thrust two fingers into her wet channel, unerringly finding that internal knot of nerve endings and simultaneously pressing his thumb down on her clit. Keening, she’d exploded, drenching his hand with cum.
Gently he’d rolled her over onto her hands and knees, kneeling beside her as he caressed her back and butt, whispering as he pressed her face against her neck.
“I love you so much baby, the man and wolf both. Let me show you how much, Willow. Let me love you. Let the wolf love you.”
Willow had shivered and shook, arousal shooting flames along her nerve endings and shifting her legs further apart. Glancing back at him over her shoulder she’d whimpered, “Please.”
Slowly he’d moved behind her, between her trembling thighs. She’d heard him drop down onto all fours himself and shuffle forward until he was sniffing and nuzzling at her sopping gash. A warm, wet tongue, longer and rougher than before, had licked her from clit to anus, the pressure and abrasiveness ramping up her already overtaxed nerves. Once, twice, three times she’d felt that long tongue, lapping up the juices that flowed so freely, leaving her on the verge of another climax. The sudden thrust of powerful tongue into her silken sheathe had tipped her over the edge, into a howling, screaming orgasm.
Her howl had been met by his. Oz had leapt up on her back, and gripping her around the hips had entered her channel in a single thrust. Through the fog of her pleasure, Willow had tried to grasp the various sensations she was experiencing. She could feel the silky warmth of his short, soft pelt pressed against her back, powerful muscles moving beneath the fur. His cock was longer, the head finishing in an angled point that slammed up against her cervix. The body of the shaft was thicker, tapering off before expanding into a broad, spherical knot of muscle at the base.
That thick knot had been rammed incessantly against her g spot, setting off a fresh round of intense spasms, her vaginal muscles squeezing Oz’ cock and spraying a geyser of hot juices all over his balls and the sheet beneath them. She was grunting, wailing and shaking when he’d lifted himself up off her back, rapidly pistoned his hips forward another half dozen times and howled his orgasm to the skies above, well at least the ceiling.
Exhausted, they’d collapsed onto the bed, still intimately joined as he’d nuzzled and licked her neck. The change had been slow and gentle this time, muscles and bones realigning first before the fur slowly retracted. When it was over, he’d rolled to the side, turning Willow to face him, the shyness and uncertainty gracing his face a more eloquent question than any he could have asked.
Willow had grinned, lifting her hand to his face, cupping his cheek lovingly.
“Daniel Osbourne, I love you so much, now more than ever. Thank you for sharing all of you with me. There is nothing you have to hide. Every part of you is sweet and loving and sexy and mine. Stay with me Oz, let me love you.”
Tears had welled up in his eyes and he’d drawn her into his arms, murmuring his love and adoration and devotion to her. He’d tugged the bedclothes up over their cooling bodies, a dull thump signalling Sagaria’s ignominious crash to the carpeted floor. Eventually they’d drifted off to sleep, their bodies sated, their hearts enraptured, their souls complete.
They’d slept deeply, contentedly. And now Willow was awake, a little embarrassed, a little sore, but a lot happy. She really felt that she and Oz would make it this time. He’d shown by his actions and choices that she was the one for him, his ‘mate’. And she was ready to commit to the long haul. They balanced one another perfectly, the light and dark both integral parts of them – much like Buffy and Spike’s yin-yang tattoo.
He was generally a pretty laid back kinda guy. But she also liked the way he’d taken the chance to lead yesterday, both on the battlefield, where he’d fought with grace and confidence, and in the bedroom. Willow was such a take charge, Type A personality sort of girl, and people rarely questioned her or challenged her lead. Now and then she needed someone who wasn’t afraid to take over, who knew what he wanted. Oz would do that for her, provide her with a safe place where it was okay to relinquish control, to hand over the reins. Yeah, everything about this relationship just resonated perfectly. He made her feel safe and loved and sexy and right, and he adored her, utterly. And she wanted to make him feel the same way. She just needed to work on that little pocket of guilt she had about Tara.
While all these thoughts had flitted through her mind, Oz had begun the slow journey towards consciousness, his muscles twitching and lengthening (well one muscle anyway), his heart rate climbing and his arms tightening around her.
“Morning baby,” he said, his sleepy voice all rumbly and sexy, as he dotted sweet kisses along her shoulder and neck. “Love you so much my beloved, my sweet Willow. Wanna show you again.”
“Mmm, love you too Oz. Want you,” she panted, “Now.”
She could have let Oz slip into her from behind, but this time she wanted to see his face as he came undone inside of her and despite all her recent revelations about power sharing, she wanted to show him that she could lead the way between the sheets as well as in the boardroom, that she wasn’t shy little Willow Rosenberg anymore, that she could rock his world.
She rolled over in his arms and pressed her mouth to his, thrusting her tongue forward to dance with his. Firmly, she pushed down on his chest, rolling him onto his back and pulled back far enough to grace him with her cheeky, excited grin. He chuckled and shook his head as she grabbed his hands in hers, used them to help her swing herself up and over his body then stretched his arms up above his head, guiding his hands to the rails of the headboard.
“Hang on sweetheart, this ride might get a little rough,”
“Ooh, my naughty little vixen. Go to it, show me what you’ve got.”
She wriggled her backside back towards his groin, kneeling up as she felt his hard cock knock up against her butt. Reaching between her legs, she grabbed hold of his shaft, swiping the damp head up and down her pussy, from her clit to her opening and back again. Steadying herself, she nestled the head into the moist indent of her cunt, looking up to catch his intense, wide-eyed gaze as she slipped down, taking him inside. She hissed as he slid in, her tissues still swollen and tender from last night’s vigorous workout.
Slowly, Willow took all of him in. Settling herself into an upright position, she began a gentle up and down motion, the scrape and slide of his broad glans quickly revving her up. Oz was twitching. His eyes travelled from the junction of their organs to her perky breasts. Her nipples were hard and achy, and his gaze made them throb even more. He began to loosen one of his hands from its rail, his intent clear.
“No baby. Hands still,” she barked out. As he grabbed the rail more tightly, she brought her hands up to her boobs. He groaned as she began squeezing and kneading her flesh, plucking and strumming the nipples, all the while rising and falling on his throbbing erection without missing a beat.
“Is this what you wanted baby, my firm little tits in your hands? Mmmm, feels so good.” Her head fell back and her eyes closed as the sound of his groaning and mumbling filled her ears.
“Ahh, fuck me you hot little bitch. Gonna make me come. Ahh, fuck Willow, love you and your hot little pussy so much.”
Oz began panting and writhing beneath her, and she leaned forward, her forearms resting against the bunched up muscles of his shoulders, her fingers linked behind his neck. She pressed her mouth against his as she ramped up the pace. The change of angle brought direct friction to bear on her clit, Oz’ thrusting shaft rubbing against the swollen pearl as he drew his legs up, planted his feet and began driving his cock into her at a rapid rate.
He was first to go over the edge, pumping his come into her as he jerked upwards and roared. She’d followed a step behind, grinding herself against him, shaking and squealing out her delight.
Boneless, she flopped down onto him. His released arms drew the covers over them and wrapped around her to hold her tight. They lay there, kissing and snuggling and whispering their love and great fortune, until the call of her full bladder and his rumbling tummy kicked them out of bed.
After showering and dressing they wandered through to the Lodge’s lounge to raid the pantry and the coffee pot. A round of applause greeted them, Buffy, Spike, Xander, Rowan, Dawn and Andrew’s ribbing and ribald comments informing them none too subtly that their love making had been overheard and in the case of the two couples, much appreciated.
They’d breakfasted together, a happy little family, sharing details of the previous day’s adventure. While Oz explained his history with Monroe and hopes for his eventual rehabilitation, Dawn and Rowan focused on Willow, probing her about progress on the research project she had undertaken.
Ever since their first big board meeting, the one where they’d selected Amazon as their company name, Willow had been fascinated by the group of women who called themselves the Guardians. She’d listened, entranced as Matt and Colleen had shared their findings, the Guardians’ roots in the temple worship of an Artemis like Goddess named Sineya, their crafting of the mystical battle axe Sagaria and their protection of the Slayer line.
Now that the Academy was up and running, she was able to steal away a little time to dedicate to further research on the topic. Not a lot of time of course, she was still teaching I.T. classes and overseeing the expansion of the school, both in terms of the property and the programmes. But she kept Sundays and two evenings a week for herself and Oz, and, over the last three weeks she’d put three hours of Sunday time aside for Guardian research.
The first thing she’d done had been to get hold of all the notes and books that Matt and Colleen had used for their research and had had a long chat with the Watcher Cecil Davis about anything else he could remember. She’d hit the internet, hunting down every lead she could. She’d trolled through all of the various prophecies, desperate to make links between the Guardians and any significant events past or future.
“I seem to have hit the wall,” she admitted to Dawn and Rowan, “I know a lot about their origins and what their purpose was. But most of the info is pretty archaic, the tales end centuries ago.”
“Yeah,” Rowan agreed, “And the problem with the old tales is that it’s hard to separate the historical out from the mythological. Not that useful if you’re trying to establish actual background data.”
“Is there a point to this research Willow?” Dawn asked, “Or is it purely out of interest or for archival purposes? Cos’ you seem pretty absorbed by it.”
“Actually, yeah, there is a point. I’m looking for a way to contact the Guardians.”
“But I thought they’d all passed away. I mean I know they were supposed to have some sort of extended lifetime deal, but they were human weren’t they? And didn’t Caleb off the last old biddy in Sunnydale?” Dawn asked.
“Yes Dawn, supposedly the last ‘old biddy’ as you so charmingly put it, is dead. But theoretically the Guardians’ origins were mystical, so maybe there was always some sort of inter dimensional aspect to their existence and that they’re still sitting around somewhere on another plane happily checking up on the Slayers and watching the Watchers.”
“If so, I imagine they’d be pretty chuffed with how things are going,” Rowan said.
“Okay, so what if they are hanging about up there somewhere,” Dawn said, waving her hand vaguely over her head. “What’s got you so fired up? Why do you want to contact them?”
“I guess I’m interested in whether they can be of any help to Amazon. I mean, if they’re all mystical and powerful, and dedicated to aiding the Slayer, well maybe there’d be a place for them on Executive Council. What with the whole ‘end of days’ thing coming up, we could do with their wisdom and advice and guidance don’t you think?”
“Yeah sure, if they’re still in existence, and contactable, and willing and, oh I don’t know, corporeal.” Dawn snarked. “Unless you’re thinking about adding ghosts to the Exec.”
“Actually Dawn, I think Willow’s onto something. The Guardians may have always been in the background, but they’ve been part of the picture as far as Slayers are concerned from the very beginning. And if they worship Sineya, then their role is pretty highly sanctioned,” Rowan said.
“Maybe it seems crazy but something is compelling me to do this. Call it a hunch or intuition, but I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to listen to our instincts around here.” Willow paused. “Anyway thanks for reminding me about their connection with Sineya Rowan. Maybe I can invoke her help in contacting them. It wouldn’t hurt to try.”
Excited by this new lead, Willow had spent the remainder of the afternoon in further research, both about the Guardians and about Sineya. But as the day drew to a close, she headed back to the Lodge, back to her apartment, back to her love. With Oz in her life, it really felt like coming home.
q95;