Rating: PG
Pairing: none this part
Summary: Willow is faced with a heartbreaking decision.
Spoilers: Series begins just after ‘Lover’s Walk’, now a couple of years have passed, and we’re part way through season six.
Disclaimer: I did not build the Buffyverse that would be Joss, it is merely my playground.
Distribution: If you want it, fine by me, just drop me a line first.
Special Thanks: Kat for checking over my ramblings and Aden for always being happy to see me.
Feedback: Pretty please with sugar on top!
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The day after Willow’s revenge, the trio returned to Paris. Angelus thought it would be a good idea to get out of Vienna, and when Willow mentioned how much she had liked Paris, Drusilla had readily agreed, knowing her little friend needed some time to unwind before anything else. Angelus complained at first. He was concerned that all the rich foods the French ate would end up giving him love handles, but he still continued to hunt each night like a man possessed. The truth was he was at a loss over Willow’s behavior. Ever since they had left Vienna, she had hardly spoken a word. She didn’t seem to feel any remorse over her actions, which was good, but she didn’t seem to be feeling much of anything else either, which was not so good.
Willow kept to herself mostly over the next few weeks. Then one day she disappeared altogether. Drusilla was beside herself when she hadn’t returned home that evening, but Angelus did his best to calm her, secretly cursing Willow for leaving him alone to care for the crazy vampire. By the end of the second day, he could no longer stomach her whining and crying over her ‘lost little tree’, and finally just bound and gagged her while he went out to hunt. He had always taken Spike’s assistance with Dru for granted. Now, he almost wished his wayward childe was back with them again so he wouldn’t have to deal anymore. He didn’t know where the hell Willow had gotten off to, but if she didn’t come back soon, he would have to hunt her down and kill her.
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Willow was tired. She had spent the last two days tracking down her son to a town called Les Lilas, north east of Paris. Now, here she was, standing in front of the house where her child had lived since shortly after he was born. The redhead circled around the outside of the structure, glad for the cover of night. Through the window she could see several photos of little William, both on the walls and the mantle. Just from the pictures alone she could see how much he had grown. He had turned nine months old last week. Soon, he would be walking, talking, and much more. Willow strained her eyes, trying to get a glimpse of him, but was having no luck.
Suddenly, a light came on in the window above her, startling her somewhat. She chanted softly, and felt her body rising on a cushion of air. The sight that welcomed her eyes made her gasp softly and clutch at the sudden tightening in her chest. He was there, her child, her William. He was having a bath, splashing about merrily and cooing with laughter while a woman with dark hair sang a bright tune to him, grinning happily. She was transfixed by the sight, doing her best to choke down a sob as tears began to roll down her cheeks.
He had grown so much! His hair had become slightly darker, and was now a deep rich red, falling around his face in heavy curls. As the woman poured a cup of water over his head to wash his hair, he let out a gasp and then a loud squeal, beginning to splash about even more wildly in joyous retaliation. He was so happy that it made Willow’s heart hurt. Of course she didn’t want him to be unhappy, but looking at him, it was like she had never existed to him at all. This other woman was his mother now.
Having finished with his bath, the woman wrapped a towel around the squirming child and headed out of the room. A light came on in the next room over, and Willow drifted in that direction so she could continue her observation. The dark haired woman was struggling to get a pair of pajamas onto the boy while she hummed softly; trying to sooth him, but little William was wise to her. He knew it was bedtime, and he wanted no part of it. He fought harder, starting to fuss, but before he could offer much resistance, he had been swooped up again into steady arms that rocked him gently, while the woman continued her soft lullaby. Soon the redheaded child was yawning and rubbing his eyes, before giving up and shoving his thumb in his mouth, drifting off to sleep. The woman kissed him gently on the forehead, whispering words of love to him, and then softly laid him in his crib with his blanket over him. She paused briefly at the door to switch off the light, glancing over her shoulder at the little bundle, and then she was gone, pulling the door shut behind her.
Willow waited a moment to be sure she wasn’t coming back before opening the window and entering the room. She closed the window behind her to keep the cold night air out. Then she just stood there transfixed, staring at her child. She had thought about him a hundred times a day since he was born, but she had never imagined that she would actually see him again. Yet here he was, alive and well, her boy. She did sob then, great heavy sobs that racked her body, making it hard to breathe. She had lost so much over the last few years, her friends, family, the man she loved, her son, and finally her sanity. She had allowed herself to become a monster without an ounce of remorse. Now, here her son was, back again, and all she could feel was unworthy.
Her child, her William, deserved a normal life with parents that could give him all the love in the world; not the psychotic, murdering, witch she had become. At one point she had believed she could give him a happy life, but now she realized the only thing she had left to offer anyone was death. He would be better off in the arms of the only parents he had ever known, not with her. Still, a thought occurred to her, she could give him one thing.
Willow pulled a small pen knife out of her pocket, using it to make a quick slice across the pad of her thumb. She began murmuring an ancient and powerful protection spell. As spells went, it was a simple one, requiring only the blood of a loved one, but if the time ever came, her life force would be forfeit to protect his. She made the shape of a crescent moon on his forehead with her blood and watched as the mark glowed briefly before disappearing altogether. She then used the knife to carefully cut a lock of red hair from his head, placing it in a pouch she had retrieved from her pocket. Bending down she kissed the top of his head, lightly, a fat tear rolling off her cheek and onto his face. He stirred for a moment, but then rolled over and settled back down again, snoring softly.
“Goodbye, William. I will always love you,” she said before slipping back out the window. Her heart was breaking. She tried to take comfort in the knowledge that her son was alive and that she had done the best that she could for him, but it offered her little solace.
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Willow walked through the door of their Paris flat, with a pained expression, and was quickly knocked to the ground by an over zealous Drusilla, who covered her in tears and kisses. Angelus glanced at her from his spot on the couch with a mixture of disgust and relief.
“The next time you decide to take a little vacation, take Dru with you. She’s been driving me fucking nuts the last few days.”
“Oh, my little tree, I thought you had run away and gotten a soul like daddy did before. But you didn’t, you came back to me, poppet. You do love me!”
Willow was having a little trouble breathing, with Drusilla’s grip of death on her, but had to smile somewhat at how much she had apparently been missed.
“Don’t be stupid Dru. Nobody tried to give Willow her soul back, because she never lost it in the first place. She’s mortal, remember?” Angelus practically spat out.
Willow wasn’t sure how much of her soul was left, all things considered, but it was a moot point now anyway. She had more important things on her mind and more important things to do than debate the state of her soul.
“It’s time to go home,” she said.