The damp, salty smell of an ocean breeze cut through the fog in her head, An occasional spray of water drenching her. She wasn't sure how she'd gotten there, standing on the bare rocks overlooking the water. Faint memories - smells, images, and words - flew through her mind.
Blood on her hands as she hugged Tara, like the fawn she'd sacrificed. Giles collapsing in the Magic Box. Xander standing in front of her, his eyes old and sad as his body shook from the force of the magic she hurled at him. The smell of roasted flesh seconds after she killed Warren. Buffy's cold expression, staring at her from across the room. Prying her hand loose from a sleeping Xander and slipping out of the house. Getting on a bus.
But everything else was just a blank. She wasn't even sure what day it was, or where she'd slept the night before. Her last clear memory was kissing Tara but now, whenever she tried to think about her, her head would begin to ache and a black, impenetrable cloud would cover her memories.
But there was a reason she was here and not hiding under her covers. She needed to be somewhere. Somewhere that wasn't Sunnydale. That wasn't California. She wasn't entirely sure that the bus had been her own idea. Or that any of the other the thoughts that drifted through her head were her own anymore.
Something was controlling her emotions. And had been for days. She was aware enough of her own mind to know that. Looking down at the raging water as it crashed against the rocks, she knew that all it would take was several steps and she would be able to join Tara. But it was a clinical knowledge. Her mind knew exactly what would happen if she entered the water at that point. Down to the last second. But the suicidal impulses, the emotions that had engulfed her on Kingman's Bluff were missing. Left behind somewhere in the fog.
Time was a fluid thing, inside her head. Willow wasn't sure how long she'd been standing there before she realized she wasn't alone. Between one empty moment and the next, something was added to the world. She had no name for what was suddenly behind her. It was like sitting at the foot of an enormous stone wall in the blazing sun, and being afraid to look up.
There was a soft, inhuman snort. Willow reluctantly turned around, her inner voice waking up enough to gibber in fear. Standing several yards away was an old woman, with a large crow on her shoulder. There was a faint fey quality to her face. Her clothes seamed to be a unique blend of Shinto priestess and native matriarch.
Willow stared at the oddly dressed woman. She seemed to glow, the light making her appear insubstantial. Willow idly wondered if it were Tara's goddess, finally coming to make her pay. It would be a relief, she thought for someone to make the decision she couldn't. Something not even Buffy could give her.
"Umm, hi," Willow mumbled after losing an eternities long staring contest. The woman schrunched her nose and stepped into Willow's personal space. With no place to go, Willow stood her ground, even though one of the only persons she'd ever allowed that close was dead and the other was hopefully far away. The woman reached down and patted Willow on her right cheek.
"I'm not your judge," the woman said, her voice clear over the roaring wave. "They will judge you."
Images flowed through Willow's mind of things she'd never seen before. A mountain that she almost recognized. A large stone ring with symbols along its rim, guarded by armed men. A string of those same symbols, like a phone number. And a small group of women greeting her on the other side of the ring.
"Who?" Willow asked, her voice hoarse after weeks of silence.
"They call themselves the Nox. They turned away, hiding their guilt. You will remind them that not all things can be buried."
"No, you!"
"You may call me Aunt," the woman said. "Come. We must find the one called Oma Desala. She will take you to them."
Before Willow could get her thoughts together, the woman turned into a large crow. Willow shivered as a stray thought poked through the fog, showing her what would happen if she didn't go with her.
She could feel him somewhere nearby as she stepped down from the bus. He'd been a constant presence in her head since her encounter with that wendigo in Oregon. He never spoke to her directly. He seemed to be guiding her in her search. Some times it was just a feeling to go in a direction that she knew wasn't her own thought. Other times she would hear a faint sound of a bird crying far above telling her which direction to take.
Lifting her bag over her shoulder, Buffy took a look around. Silver Creek Junction was like any number of other small rural towns she'd passed through since leaving Sunnydale. She would never have guessed she was in Minnesota if she hadn't been looking out of her bus window as it passed a large sign at the state line welcoming all visitors to the state.
All of the other places she'd followed Willow to had made sense. Eventually. But for once she hoped she wasn't a week behind, that finally Willow would stop long enough for her to catch up. It was only August but she felt like she'd been on the road forever, always just a step behind. The two weeks spent recovering from her encounter with that wendigo hadn't helped.
Willow seemed ready to wander forever, like some Biblical character, but Buffy knew she couldn't keep it up forever herself. She didn't know where he was getting it from but Giles would run out of money at some point and she would have to head back to Sunnydale and her sister whether she had found Willow or not or get a job to support her search.
Buffy had developed a fairly simple procedure for finding traces of Willow as she travelled. The original spell had faded to the point that it only told her if Willow had done any strong magic in the immediate area. It usually worked but it took some concentration. Fortunately, over the past few months Willow had developed a pattern. When she ate it was at the cheapest 'hole-in-the-wall' diner in town. If there was a bar with a demonic clientele she would visit that also. And holy ground, of any sort, seemed to attract her. After checking the local paper for any strange things happening, Buffy would visit these places. If she was lucky, she could be in and out of a town, and back on the road, in two days.
If Willow had been there, she would know it. She was becoming an expert in reading Willow-sign. If not she would move on in whatever direction Raven guided her in. She often wondered why he didn't just tell her where Willow was. it would make things a lot easier.
She sometimes suspected, late at night on a bus headed to the next town, that something more was going on here. Willow hadn't blindly run away. She was heading somewhere. In at least four of the town Willow had stopped in she'd made life better for someone. And in several others, Buffy herself had been roped into dealing with some local rampaging demon or some cult that was getting out of hand.
After carefully brushing the dust and dirt from her clothes, Buffy walked into the small diner. Plopping down into an empty booth, Buffy looked around while she waited for the waitress to get to her. In one booth, two older women and a teenager were quietly talking while they ate. At another, a skinny old man stared at her across a cup of coffee. A man at the counter seemed to be surreptitiously watching the women. It wasn't the gaze of a stalker but his posture felt familiar to her. There was something trained about him.
