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Willow breathed deeply and evenly, as she meditated. With her eyes closed she could feel each of the dozens of people moving and working through the council's office. Their energy signatures, and errant thoughts floated around her a kaleidoscope of color.
As she sat and watched, letting everyone pass unmolested, Willow caught an errant thought that interested her, and followed it. What she found was an unfamiliar energy signature, strange because she had at least met every person who moved through the offices. Stranger still, because the man was on his way to see her.
Willow followed him through the halls, gently watching and trying to figure out what was going on. His energy was a calm swirl of red and gold, though stress snapped angrily at the edges a violent snapping green. He moved smoothely, a fluid stride that let none of the stress on his mind show.
The witch watched him for another moment, before withdrawing back into her body. She blinked her eyes open, and carefully stood, stretching out stiff legs and sore muscles. She moved carefully into the living room of her suite, swathing herself in veils of power as she moved.
After the events following Tara's death, Willow had found herself with an overabundance of magic running through her veins. She had to be careful to siphon off a certain amount each day, or pay the consequences of her actions. The consequences tended to be unforeseen magical effects, but it could also manifest as wracking, searing pain. Willow was careful to make sure that didn't happen anymore.
So, as she moved she covered herself in layers of wards, protections and enchantments. By the time Willow had reached her living room, she could hear a brisk knock on her door. Inhaling carefully, she checked her spells carefully before responding.
"Come in.."
The door pushed open quietly, and the figure in the doorway stole Willow's breath. She could feel her careful wards and protections melting away to nothing. It left her feeling bare and exposed, though not unpleasantly so. He'd always seen through to what she hid from the world, was it suprising that the spells she protected herself from the world with, would melt at his presence? How had she not recognised him? Had it really been so long?
"Oz."
------
As he pushed open the door, Oz could feel his heart jump it's rhythim into high gear, lodging it in his throat uncomfortably. He hadn't seen her since he debacle of a re-emergence in Sunnydale. But he'd always tried to watch over her, even from a distance. He'd always found her.
No contact with her, no matter how brief. She deserved her happiness, and while happiness that lacked him was a wounding thought, anything was better than to cause her more misery. He'd stayed in touch with Giles, the occasional letter or email. It had never been regular enough, but it had been passable.
As the door finished opening, he watched, some foreign part of his brain began to record and memorise. He would be able to recall every nuance, if only so he could torture himself later. His dark eyes drank her in, from the still copper hair-longer now than it had been since high school-to her slightly shocked wide green eyes, to the way she stood now calm and self-assured.
"Oz." His name fell from her lips like a stone through water, and it too would be memorized. A memory he could turn over in his mind ceaselessly. He smiled, a small turn of the lips and she responded with the smile he remembered as his.
"Hey."
---
"So what are you doing in these parts?" Willow asked, as she settled on the couch, and Oz across from her in the loveseat.
"Not much, little of this, a little of that." He paused, and met her eyes. "Actually, Giles asked me."
"Giles?" Willow could feel her forehead crinkle in consternation. "He had a number for you?"
"Something like that" Oz smiled and looked down for a minute. "I've kept in contact with him here and there over the years."
"Ah."
"He's worried about you." Willow met his eyes again, and the concern swimming in them was almost too much.
"I'm fine." She assured him. "Just, things aren't like they used to be."
"Things change, you have to be willing to change with them."
"I have changed, that's the problem."
Oz watched her, and Willow sighed.
"I'm not that sweet little girl you used to know Oz, I'm different."
"Don't seem too bad to me, but if youi wanna talk, I'm here to listen."
---
Oz watched as Willow began to speak, his heart breaking. He could see grief, anger and something beyond definition playing over her face. She told him about Glory, about her magic abuse, about nearly killing dawn. She told him about Rack. She told him about Tara's death and what she'd done after. She told him about Warren. About the first.
She talked for a long time, explaining her life after his second departure. When she finished, her eyes were too clear as though she were trying not to cry. He could sit here like a marionette without strings, or, he could help her. He chose the latter.
He moved from his seat until he was sitting with her. She watched him closely, but when he pulled her into a hug, his hand encircling hers, she didn't stop him.
"It's okay Wills." He spoke quietly. "It's not your fault. It'd gonna be okay now, I promise." He could feel Willow shaking as she sobbed silently, and he wondered how no one else had noticed the pain she was carrying with her.
When she'd stopped crying, he pulled away, but she didn't let go of his hand.
"It's just...it's hard..." she started, sniffling slightly and rubbing at red eyes. "I can't explain to any of them, they don't understand. I'm sorry that I killed Warren, but I'm not sorry he's dead...he killed Tara and she'll never come back...it isn't fair."
"Will...you don't have to hold onto her like this.."
"I-I can't let her go. I can't forget her..." Oz smiled, and it was bare, only the edges of his mouth tilting up.
"Willow, listen okay? Tara...from what you've told me, and I've picked up, she wouldn't want you to carry this with you forever. She still loves you, but its okay to let her go." Willow began to sob again quietly, and he held her, thinking, while she sobbed.
Once, Tara had been his bane. The reason, in the end that he'd lost his girl. But really, Willow had never been only his. She had belonged to Xander, and he had accepted that in time. And after he'd left, he'd made a decision. So long as she'd been happy without him, he'd have stayed away forever.
But Giles had called him. Called him because all of them could see their friend slowly bleeding to death, and nothing they could say or do had staunched the blood. So Giles had done the last thing he could think of, he'd called Oz.
Willow calmed again after a few minutes and excused herself to the bathroom to wash her face. When she returned a few minutes later, her face was red, but devoid of the tear tracks that had washed over it.
"I'm sorry about this. I mean-"
"Youi don't have to apologise. It's why I'm here."
"I can't stay long, Giles has me going somewhere..." She looked at the paper sitting on the table in front of her. "tibet apparently." She paused and then looked up. Oz smiled.
"I'm your guide."
"You? but-with the! and the thing! and how the crap?" Willow finally sat after a minute.
"Giles thought you could take some time off. I'm here to spirit you away to Tibet for a vacation. Don't worry...it'll be okay."
As Willow met his eyes again, he thought he could see a glimpse of his girl staring back out at him.