Coming Home

Coming Home : Part One

~~~

She was okay until she picked up Willow's favourite sweater. Then Tara McClay began to cry. She finished packing and slowly walked down the stairs. She hated to leave, but she couldn't stay. How could she stay after everything that had happened? She left the house. Dawn was on the porch, leaning against the rail and Tara reached out to her. Dawn flinched and ran inside. Tara felt like dying. She couldn't stop the tears, didn't even try to. It had all just gone so... wrong.

~~~

When she'd first come to Sunnydale, she was ecstatic at the thought of leaving her father and her father's family. With her mother gone, there was nothing to tie her home. She was free, and for the first few weeks, she reveled in her independent life. Sleeping in. Staying up late reading spellbooks. Studying art and poetry and all the other things her family thought were 'pointless.'

Loneliness set in quickly, though. Tara knew she wasn't a sociable person. People, for the most part, frightened her; and she knew being a witch - and the fear of being discovered - was a big part of that. She'd inherited that sense of fear from her mother and honed it living with her father.

But her mother was dead, and her father miles away. Tara didn't want to be frightened anymore. She joined a campus Wicca group, hoping for what, she wasn't sure. Companionship? Understanding? A friend?

She found all of it and more in Willow Rosenberg.

~~~

The streets of Sunnydale were cool and dark. Walking along them at this time of night was possibly one of the stupidest things Tara had ever done, but she just didn't care. The tears streamed freely down her face as she ignored the familiar sights. Her feet walked a twisting path - one they knew well.

The taxi was standing out front as she arrived. It would be there early, of course. Rupert Giles was always too prepared. She watched him lift a suitcase into the trunk before she announced her presence.

'Tara,' he said, gently, kindly. Like a real father would. She dropped her bag and wrapped her arms around him and clung.

'I-it's all w-wrong, a-and she knew w-what it was l-like and s-she still d-did it, and it was my m-mind and she t-took it away again,' she sobbed, letting go of whatever it was that kept her grief under control.

Two unbearably long, silent minutes passed before she lifted her head. Tear streaked cheeks looked up at him sadly.

'Take me with you, Giles. Please?'

It was time for Tara to go home.

~~~

Willow was bright, sweet, kind, talented and powerful. Tara knew this from the moment she set eyes on the other witch. She also knew she would fall hard and fast for the redhead.

She often found herself wondering whether it was real, during the first few weeks. Then Oz returned. After he had left, Tara knew with all her heart that it was real.

She and Willow began to delve deeper into their magic. At first it was to help Buffy Summers, the current Slayer. Tara felt she was finally doing something noble and worthwhile. It made her proud. It was a rare feeling for her. She'd never had much to be proud of before. She'd had accomplishments - she remembered her first spell - levitating a silk ribbon. It should have been a happy day, for her and her mother, who'd been teaching her. But Mr. McClay arrived home early and put an end to all happiness.

Her graduation should have been a happy day. But the loss of her mother still hung over her like a dark cloud, three months on. At times, Tara almost believed she could see the cloud following her, darkening her days and threatening fat teardrops of rain.

No, Tara had never had much cause for joy or pride. But her work with the Scoobies, the praise of Giles, the aliveness of Buffy, and the love and acceptance of Buffy's sister Dawnie made her happy. It wrapped her up like a cashmere blanket, warm and fuzzy.

Tara began to value her importance to the group. They didn't just tolerate her because of Willow. They wanted her for her, and Tara liked being able to repay their faith.

Besides which, she'd been taught that magic was to be respected, to be revered. It wasn't to be wasted.

Willow started using her magic at random. Cleaning, decorating, playing. She didn't seem to understand magic was not a replenishable source - at least not for them. Tara's magic came from a place deep inside and it took a lot to bring it out.

Tara respected the magic. It was beginning to seem Willow did not.

~~~

The slow, rumbling movements of the plane lulled her to sleep. It hadn't taken much for Giles to agree to bring Tara to London with him. He loaded Tara's bag into the cab, and settled her in the backseat, before running inside to 'make a few calls'. Tara concentrated on breathing.

The attendant at the check in counter was very sympathetic and managed to seat them together, near the front of the plane. Tara didn't care. She just wanted peace, sleep, a change, an end to all of this. As they settled into their seats, Giles began to talk softly, ignoring the safety demonstration and the glares of the flight attendants.

'I've been offered a job at a school in Scotland,' he said. 'I'm only stopping in London to pick up a few things from my flat, then I'm leaving right away. Do you' - he seemed a bit hesitant - 'do you know what you want to do?'

'Are you going to Hogwarts?' Tara asked numbly.

Giles started. 'H-how do you know Hogwarts?'

'I was four,' Tara said softly. 'We left Britain when it seemed the light would never win. It was all so dark, and they could not forsee an end,' she said dreamily, for Hogwarts had long seemed like a childhood daydream for her.

'Mom took me to America after my father - my biological father,' she explained, 'was killed in the fight. We came to America, and she married the first Muggle she found. She was so scared. She thought hiding was the best way to overcome fear. But the magic didn't leave her.'

'She was trained at Hogwarts, then?' Giles asked.

'Yes,' Tara replied. 'She promised me one day I'd see it.' And she smiled.

~~~

Tara had lost her mind once. It was taken from her, violently and painfully. She was lost in a fuzzy world of swirling colours, harsh red and orange and yellow, blinding her and overwhelming her. She couldn't find her way out.

Sometimes it seemed like she'd been lost forever. Her mind began to forget important things - the exact color of Willow's eyes, the sound of Dawn's laugh, the security of her new-found family. Sometimes it seemed all she could remember was the pain.

She was lost, and she feared no one would ever find her. But Willow did. Her Willow found her, and saved her, and loved her, and it was more beautiful and painful than Tara could bear. Because while she had been found, Buffy had been lost. And while Tara was happy and complete in Willow's arms, Willow was incomplete without Buffy.

Her family had been desecrated - Dawn was heartbroken, and they faced the possibility of losing her. Giles worked rather mechanically and made half hearted plans to return to England. Xander and Anya began to draw away from the group.

Willow was lost.

Tara was torn. She had been found, but at Buffy's expense. What was the use of bringing back one mediocre witch if you had to lose a Slayer in the process? And if the loss of the Slayer caused the withdrawal of her friends? Tara could not believe she was that important. But something was stirred inside her. She was back. And Buffy was not.

It was Tara who asked Willow the whereabouts of the Buffybot.

It was Tara who called the family back together.

It was Tara who sobered Spike and charged him with Dawn's safety once more.

It was Tara who felt guilty for surviving.

It was Tara who found the darkest of Dark Arts books.

It was Tara who left the book open on their bed.

But it was Willow who used the information.

~~~

'What do you plan to do, Tara?' Giles asked her once more, adding sugar to his tea and stirring. She rested the side of her face against the headrest and looked at him.

'I-I don't know,' she replied. This was good. This was conversation.

'I keep a flat in London,' he said nonchantly.

'Oh,' she said.

'You could stay there awhile,' he was still stiring his tea, not looking at her. She felt her emotions were plastered all over her face. She willed him to look, so she wouldn't have to ask.

'Or I could hire you as my assistant,' he said. He hadn't needed to look at her.

She sucked in a breath, deeply, closing her eyes, and dreaming a childhood dream. Just for a second.

'Tara,' he said, looking at her this time, 'This would be serious. You couldn't just go running back to Sunnydale on a whim. It would be permanent, for a year at least.'

Tara didn't think she could stand to be away from Willow for a year. But then she thought she couldn't stand to be near Willow at all, so she nodded, and accepted her first job offer.

She slept during the long flight. Didn't want to watch the silly romantic movies. Sleep was good.

The next thing she knew, Giles was gently shaking her shoulder. 'Tara, Tara, we're coming in to land,' he said.

She woke slowly and blinked. He gestured out the window. The lights of London flickered.

'Oh,' Tara whispered, enchanted. 'London.' Home.

It didn't take long for the two British citizens to navigate Customs, and within the hour they were standing outside Heathrow Airport hailing a cab. Sights and sounds and smells were flooding Tara's senses, and they all felt right.

She watched the sights fly by, muted by the cover of darkness. Giles' apartment was in a modest suburb of London, a second story, single bedroom. She opened the curtains to let the view in, but was mildly disapointed to find the flat looked out on the back wall and carpark of another set of flats.

'Not very glamorous, I'm afraid,' Giles said, placing his bags on the couch and filling the kettle.

'No, it's lovely,' Tara said, placing her coat next to her bags. Giles offered her tea, and she accepted gladly.

He had some calls to make, he explained, especially if she still wanted to take him up on his offer. She did, and told him so. He showed her the way to the bathroom and found clean and dry, if not fresh, towels for her and told her to take her time.

She'd cleaned her face best she could on the plane, but she still felt tired and dirty. Tara stepped under the hot shower and tried not to think.

~~~

It was planned down to the meticulous last detail, as Tara knew it would be. Giles had left for England earlier that day. It was best he wasn't there, for he would surely have stopped them. Dawn was to stay with Spike. Spike, too, would stop them, Tara was sure, and none of them thought it was a good idea to tell Dawn.

There were problems, of course. The magic was too strong for them. Even for Willow.

Xander and Anya were scared. Magic had hurt all of them in the past, and it was to be expected that they would have some reservations.

But the overwhelming sense of guilt Tara had outweighed all her other emotions. Survivor guilt, it was called. She hadn't taken Professor Walsh's Psych 101, but she knew it all the same. Had felt it before.

She was here. Buffy was not. It was time to fix that.

Afterwards, Tara realised she'd pushed Willow into it, somewhat. Willow's devastation at the failure of the spell was Tara's fault. She realised that, but what could she do? Demons were attacking and they needed the Slayer.

~~~

She could hear voices as she stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around her hair. Giles, obviously, and someone else. She dressed quickly and pulled her hair into a ponytail. Walking into the living room, she saw it was, in fact, Giles and two other men. One was older, with a cheerful, lined face. Long white hair and beard. Half glasses perched in front of light blue eyes. Long, elaborate purple robes.

'Dumbledore,' she said automatically.

'Tara,' Albus Dumbledore said. 'How delightful to see you again, dear girl.'

She gaped at him. He knew her? She knew him, of course. Her mother had told her all manner of secret stories about their old life.

'I helped your mother escape to America, of course,' he continued blithely. 'I helped so many single mothers escape during those years,' his voice turned - bitterness, grief, a little bit of hope.

Tara sat on the opposite couch next to Giles. She smiled shyly at Dumbledore as he resumed his conversation with Giles and turned her attention to the second man. He was younger than Giles. By five years, perhaps? She looked closely. No, he was much younger. Ten, or maybe fifteen years behind Giles. He just projected an aura of weariness that made him seem older.

Light brown hair fell neatly to his shoulders, worn, but well patched robes covered him, and a battered case rested beside him. It looked as though it was held together only by magic.

Honey-gold hazel eyes looked serenely back at her. With a start, she realised the emotions reflected there matched her own. Grief, anger, loneliness. And something else. Something she couldn't place. Something she had seen before, long ago.

~~~

He called to her. He called her. Tara knew he knew about them. She didn't know what he was, but he knew. Somehow, he knew.

'Hey. I thought I sm...ah, heard Willow.'

He knew. Tara was frightened. It was so new, so precious to her. She didn't want to lose this, but how could she keep it?

'Pretty much. Feeling... oddly motivated.'

So he was coming back. She tried to keep her grief from showing. It was all over.

'I hope so.'

He was beginning to scare her. Sniffing and searching. What did he want? He had taken Willow from her, what more was there?

'Is that her sweater?'

Yes, she thought. I stole it after kissing her senseless last night. But that's won't happen again, will it?

'You smell like her. She's all over you, do you know that?'

She couldn't talk about this. Not with him. She didn't want to be here.

'But there's something to talk about?'

What could she say?

'Are you two involved?'

This wasn't her conversation. Tara knew that as well as she knew herself. It was Willow's place to tell him. She tried to leave, wanting nothing more than to be able to forget the whole thing, forget the last few months and go back to her old, dull life.

'Cause she never said anything to me like that. We talked all night and she never - No, stop!'

His eyes. Wild and frightened and possessive. It was wrong. What was he?

'Is she in love with you? Tell me, is she?!'

His eyes and his hands and he was so strong and she was terrified and she could smell him now, wild and fierce and supernatural and she didn't know how she missed it and she had to get away. Now.

'Run,' Oz said, a moment before he transformed.

~~~

Tara stared at the man in front of her. Slowly, she began to realise Dumbledore was speaking.

'Remus Lupin here was our Professor a few years ago. He'll be able to help get you both up to speed, what each class should be working on, that sort of thing.'

'Why can't you take the post this year?' Giles asked curiously.

'I-I'm working for Dumbledore in a different capacity at the moment,' Remus answered hesitantly.

'And he's a werewolf,' Tara added with certainty.

All three men looked at her. She blushed.

'I am,' Remus admitted. 'But I'm interested to know how you knew,' he directed at Tara.

'I, uh, I o-once knew a-a w-werewolf. H-he, uh, h-he t-t-tried...' she trailed off and looked at Giles helplessly.

'Tara was once attacked by a werewolf,' Giles said calmly. 'She saw him change in the middle of the day. Luckily, he was shot with a tranquiliser before he attempted to bite her.'

Tara looked at him gratefully. It always sounded so simple when someone else explained it.

Giles looked nonchalent, but Tara knew him well enough to know that underneath, he was worried. Not about the werewolf, Goddess knew they were the last people to be concerned about that, but about Remus' reaction.

Dumbledore hadn't seemed to have changed expression since the moment Tara sat down, cheerfully serious, Tara thought.

And Remus - well, actually, she couldn't read his expression.

~~~

He came to in the Forbidden Forest. That hadn't occurred for years, and for an instant, he believed himself to be back at Hogwarts as a student. Preparing to let out a cry for his packmates, he stopped suddenly.

That wasn't right. He was grown now. He hadn't had a full transformation all year.

Last night trickled back. Sirius. Wormtail. Snape. Harry.

Fuck.

Standing gingerly, he took note of his surroundings properly. Padfoot had chased him into the Forest, and taken him to the clearing. Of course.

He moved to the creek, dipped his hands in. The icy water revived him somewhat, and he began to move towards the school. He knew the way, of course. How many times had he found himself in this situation? Back then, though, James was always ready with spare robes.

He arrived at the school, cold and naked. It was easy enough to get to his room without being seen. He was a Maurauder, of course he knew the secret passages.

He dressed and awaited the furore.

~~~

She wasn't scared, Remus noted with a shock. Or, she was, but not of him. The knowledge warmed him, thawed the ice that had grown in his veins the moment she spoke.

He supposed by now he should be used to it, the waiting, the reaction, the horror. It was harder to get used to when people reacted calmly.

Giles and Dumbledore were talking quietly again. Something about protection for the Hellmouth. Remus would have to look into that. He'd been appointed Deputy Head of the Order. Not that there was much to do these days. Mainly just rounding up stray Death Eaters. But with the Watcher gone, and the Slayer not in the best state... the least the Order could do would be to monitor the Hellmouth.

She was sitting still, hands in her lap, eyes downcast.

Pretty witch. Fragile. Powerful. Sad.

When Giles' had floo-called Dumbledore twenty minutes ago, and said he had bought Benjamin Fenwick's now orphaned American daughter with him, the two men had been astounded. Giles himself said he had been shocked to discover Tara's heritage, said for all he knew, she was just a slightly more powerful Muggle-born witch.

Dumbledore insisted on Remus being present for the meeting.

He wasn't sure why.

He didn't like not being sure.

~~~

'Serverus told the Slytherins this morning, I'm afraid, Remus,' Dumbldore said quietly, sitting in Remus's armchair, cradling a cup of tea.

'Bastard,' Remus swore under his breath. The pettiness of the Potions Master was something he could never get used to.

Dumbledore continued. 'I want you to stay, of course.'

It was all Remus could do not to shake the old wizard.

He settled for a gasp. 'Are you mad?'

No, I do not believe so, though many would disagree,' he said happily. 'You are the best Defence Professor I've had for years, and I want you to continue on my staff.'

'No,' Remus said, arguing with the Headmaster for the first time in his life. 'I can't do that. This has been a secret for most of my life, and now it won't be. I do not want to be the public face of the Werewolf Defense League. I'm sorry Professor, but I quit.'

It was, without doubt, the most humiliating moment of his life.

~~~

'Well, then,' Dumbledore concluded his conversation with Giles and widened his smile to include Tara and Remus. 'Shall we move this party to Hogwarts?'

Party? Remus thought incredulously. Here we have an unemployable werewolf, his disgraced watcher replacement, an orphaned witch so deadened with grief it flows off her in waves, and a mad old man who is apparently the formost wizard of his time.

He offered to take the cups into the kitchen and wash them as Giles and Tara gathered their things. He was suddenly struck with a thought.

'Professor,' he said, sticking his head back in the living room, 'Will we need to get wands and robes and things for Tara and Giles?'

'Ah, yes,' Dumbledore said. 'But no matter, it is taken care of, and all waiting at Hogwarts. Do you have the Floo powder, Remus?'

He floated the cups back to the sideboard and pulled the smal pouch out of his pocket.

'You both remember how this works, I presume?' Dumbledore asked.

'Of course,' Giles answered. 'Where are we going?'

'The staff room at Hogwarts,' Dumbledore answered, but Remus was barely listening, struck by the expression of pure joy on Tara's face. He smiled himself, a truly pleased smile, something he had not felt in a very long time. Too long had passed since he had been able to take pleasure in the simple wonders of the magical world. He ran the glittering green powder through his fingers, trying to see it through Tara's eyes. It was beautiful.

Remus passed the pouch around, turning red as he saw the bemused expression on the Headmaster's face. Another thing he hadn't seen in a very long time.

'To Hogwarts, then,' Dumbledore said, as Remus fell back into another memory.

~~~

Back again. At his parent's house. Remus was grateful he had this, at least. The subject of his unemployablity would have been harder to accept if he didn't have a place to live during the hard times.

The fire crackled and turned green before a tall, midnight blue-clad figure stepped out.

'I'm not about to change my mind, Professor,' Remus said, waiting for Dumbledore to seat himself before conjuring another cup and offering the teapot.

'I had hoped you would, but that is not the purpose of my visit,' Dumbledore said, accepting the tea. 'This is lovely china, Remus. Professor McGonagall would be pleased.'

Remus raised his eyebrows.

'Not to be swayed, I see,' Dumbledore sighed. 'Remus, I had hoped to find your... dog here.'

'I'm afraid he's out at the moment,' Remus replied, as casually as he could. Sirius had not been able to tell him the entire story behind his rescue, insisting on leaving before he was caught, despite the very little risk.

'I see,' Dumbledore said. 'And did he manage to tell you anything before he left? Or was he a bit... preoccupied?'

Remus flushed at the suggestion.

'He did not manage to tell me anything, concerned as he was with eating me out of house and home,' Remus replied. 'Must we be so coy, Professor?'

'No, I suppose not, Remus,' Dumbledore replied, fixing Remus with the cool blue gaze he remembered so well. 'Sirius managed to escape the Dementors and the Ministry with the aid of Harry and Hermione. He is now a marked man, and will be so until we can clear his name.'

Remus closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He'd known it, of course, had known it from the instant the moon announced his presence to him. He opened his eyes once more and found Dumbledore looking at him, slightly amused.

'You blame yourself again, don't you?'

~~~

The staffroom at Hogwarts was warm, comforting and empty. Tara was grateful for small miracles. She really didn't want any more surprises right now. Remus tripped out of the fireplace behind her, and smiled at himself.

'I'm hopeless with these things. You'd think I'd be right, full of wolf instinct and all.'

'Clumsy,' Tara offered. 'Me too.'

Giles stepped out brushing soot off his jeans. 'That was as fun as I remembered,' he said drily.

Dumbledore had been first, yet there was no sign of him. Then a door at the end opened, and the wizard walked in, talking to what appeared to be a short demon-like thing.

'House elf,' Remus whispered to her. Was her look of confusion that obvious?

'Ah,' Dumbledore said. 'You all made it safely, then?'

'Some more so than others,' Remus grumbled.

'Dobby will see to your bags, so perhaps you'd like to sit and we shall discuss the terms of your employment?'

The elf called Dobby smiled at Tara. At least, she supposed it was a smile.

'Dobby is glad to be taking the misses bags, if the miss would please let go,' he said, tugging at the strap.

'O-oh, th-thankyou,' Tara said, bowing slightly to the little elf. She wasn't sure why she'd done it, but it seemed to make Dobby happy. He smiled up at her, eyes wide and shining.

'The miss is kind and generous and noble,' he said, returning the bow. 'Dobby is pleased to serve her and her companion.'

'Thankyou, Dobby,' Dumbledore said, beckoning Tara to the long table in the centre of the room. 'We have a lot to discuss, my dear.'

Tara let the conversation wash over her, nodding and agreeing in the right places. She was vaguely aware she'd agreed to act as Giles' assistant in Defence Against the Dark Arts and agreed to help with a wandless magic demonstration.

Vaguely aware Giles had agreed the two of them would be there for a year, at least, with an option on another.

She snapped to attention when Giles agreed to bring Buffy in for a Slaying demonstration later in the year.

'Giles... Buffy?' she whispered, the unasked question obvious to Giles.

'I will ask Willow, if she is required,' Giles answered, firmly, but gently, the meaning perfectly clear. She would be expected to handle it in an adult and professional manner. She didn't think that would be possible.

~~~

It was over. The Urn of Osiris was broken. Buffy was truly gone and Willow was unconscious. There were demon bikies attacking, and Tara didn't think she'd ever feel safe again. She couldn't allow herself to think they had any hope left. Hope was a dangerous thing. It made you believe things were possible. Like bringing a Slayer back from the dead.

Anya was with her. They ran, and ran. Xander said to split up, and Tara trusted him, because who else was left to trust? She had to trust him with her life - with Willow's life - and they had to be all right. They would be. She would know otherwise.

They were in the Magic Box. The demons hadn't arrived there yet. Tara was grateful for the moment of peace. Anya was grateful her shop was safe.

What good was she? Buffy was the important one. Tara couldn't even manage to keep track of her lover.

Wait.

"Aradia, hear my words."

She could always find Willow.

~~~

Remus desperately wanted to ask about Willow and Buffy. Who they were, what they did. Why the very mention of Willow bought such pain to the blonde witch's face.

Something told him this was not the time.

'W-what time is it?' Tara asked.

'Close to nine,' Remus replied, consulting his watch. She nodded and yawned.

'It's one o'clock back in Sunnydale,' she said absently. Remus quickly did the maths. She'd been on the move for hours.

'You must be exhausted,' he said, looking closely at the witch. Her cheeks were pale and dark shadows lingered. Her eyes were rimmed with light red and her shoulders drooped.

'That's enough,' he interrupted Giles and Dumbledore, who were reminiscing, of all things.

'She needs sleep,' he said, nodding towards Tara. 'Which suite have you given her, Professor?'

'Lemon Drops,' Dumbledore answered. 'Her bags should be there by now - Giles, would you like to retire for the night as well?'

'No, no I want to hear this - Good night, Tara,' Giles called after Remus as he hustled Tara towards the door.

Lemon Drops. Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Each Headmaster had the option of re-naming and decorating the Professors suites when he or she took over, and true to form, Dumbledore had used popular Muggle sweets as his inspiration. Remus himself had lived in Toffee Apple, a caramel-gold and red hued suite.

The soft yellow of Lemon Drops would suit Tara's gold hair and pale complexion, he thought idly as they walked to her room.

He found the room open, guarded by a delighted Dobby.

'Miss is needing to set her password,' he announced, almost bouncing in his place.

'Tara?' She looked dead on her feet. 'Tara, you need to set a password for your rooms. Just lean in and whisper it. I don't need to know.' He gestured towards the painting hanging over her entrance - a sweet-faced angel.

'Oh, goddess,' Tara murmured.

'That'll do, love,' the angel said. 'No point keeping it a secret from cutie there, is it?'

Remus smirked. It had been a very long time since a painting tried to chat him up.

Tara blinked. 'Huh?'

'Well, I wouldn't mind a midnight visit from a boy like that,' the angel winked.

'I need sleep,' Tara said, turning her eyes on Remus. 'The painting's talking to me.'

He laughed, not unkindly. 'The paintings talk here. It's actually security for your room. No one can get in without the password, which you've just set as "oh, goddess." But you do need sleep.'

She smiled at him, a soft, lazy, tired smile that sang to him more than a million flirty words from a painting.

'Good night, then,' she said, slipping through the opening and closing it behind her.

Remus stood in the hall, stunned. He couldn't have thought that. He wasn't interested in her. Was he?

He didn't bother to wonder. He knew he was. The tired, worn out werewolf had fallen in love with the grief-stricken American witch.