Willow Goes to Harvard
Parts 3 & 4

By Sam James

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"And she didn't even give me a chance to explain myself or anything," Willow was on the phone with Oz. "She said I couldn't be a watcher because I did black magic and lied to her about it. I don't even know what she was referring to. I mean a soul-altering curse, well that could be the thing with Angel but demon summoning? I never summoned one demon let alone two!"

As Willow saw Rachel walk into the suite, Willow quickly said, "Rachel just walked in. Anyway I threw a six and the gamemaster said I won and we'll have to talk about the game later bye!"

By this point Rachel was looking at her funny. "I was just talking to my boyfriend about this role playing game we used to play back in California."

Rachel shrugged. "I never had time for a boyfriend. There was always too much to do."

"No boyfriend," Willow was shocked out of her depression caused by the Watcher's unfair treatment. "Then what did you do for prom and such?"

"Oh there was always a boy from the robot club who needed someone to go with. As one of the few girls who could understand the proto-engineers, I was quite popular with what the school called the nerd crowd."

Willow was impressed. Talking about boys was better than thinking about how Professor Kerr had ruined all her plans. "There were enough of them to be a crowd?"

Rachel smiled, "Oh we had a good mix. The popular clique did their thing and we did ours. As we got older, the jock stuff mattered less and when college admission time came, they got their comeuppance believe me. Can you say "U Mass: Boston! What about your school? Anyone smart?"

"Well, there were Dave and Fritz who were computer geniuses."

"What college did they end up at?" Rachel mused.

"They sort of got killed."

"What?!?" Rachel was shocked at the casualness of her roommate's statement about death.

"They were working at a computer company and found out what it was really doing," Willow gave the cover story. "The company tried to make it look like a suicide. I really don't like to talk about it." Of course, Willow realized silently. That's it. I freed Molach by scanning in the book he was trapped in. That must be one of demon summonings Kerr was talking about. But it was a total accident. I wasn't even practicing witchcraft yet.

"Wow! A kid in our class got killed by a drunk driver but that was it. Willow? Are you listening?"

"We're getting a bit morbid here," Willow changed the subject. "What's on the Freshman Week agenda for today?"

"We have the dorm social project this afternoon."

"The old age home? I told Oz. He'll meet us there."

"Willow," Rachel mock scolded. "You can't take your boyfriend everywhere you know. This is supposed to be a dorm bonding thing. He's not even a Harvard student."

"I checked with the dorm's Freshman Proctor. He said that I couldn't bring him but if he happened to be volunteering at the same place and time..."

Rachel frowned. "Girl, you haven't even seen the field yet and you're already locking yourself away."

"I'm thousands of miles from home, I'm at what's probably the world's toughest university, and I'll take my comfort-blankie Oz-shaped thank you very much." Rachel giggled as Willow dropped into her 'Resolve Face'.

* * * * * * * * *

That afternoon, the college hired a mini-schoolbus to drive the students of Pennyton over to the old age home in Boston. Half of the freshmen used this as an excuse to revert back to childhood while the others took glee pleasure in sabotaging those efforts. After a chorus of "Old MacDonald" was transmuted into "Albert Einstein had a farm, E=MC squared" the bus arrived. Willow made a show of surprise at finding Oz already volunteering and made a couple jokes about her stalker that fooled no one who noticed how the couple looked at each other.

The Merridan Residence was a flat three story building with a reception area and large activity room on the first floor and living quarters for the residents upstairs. The students moved among the residents, alternately collecting their life stories for the dorm project and playing various games with the senior citizens, many of whom were flattered by the attention and shocked that Harvard students did not even know the basics about how to play bridge.

Willow and Oz were playing cards with one oldster, when they noticed the room grow quiet. They looked up. Filling the doorway was what had to be the oldest woman there. Her presence was palpable. Her bones and wrinkles were so prominent that any observer would be hard pressed to notice that she was black. Her vintage midnight blue dress looked like a reject from the 1940s which may have been the last time she had left the home. And her first finger was pointed directly at Willow. "You be late," she said.

"Who's that?" one of the other students asked softly.

"That Ma'am Tucker," a gnarly voice replied. "She a witch."

"Come with me," she crocked her finger at Willow. Absurdly, a scene from the Wizard of Oz played through Willow's mind. 'Are you a good witch or a bad witch?' Without conscious thought, Willow stood up, aware of all eyes upon her.

"Sure?," Oz asked.

"I have to find out what she wants. If she is a witch, I'm better equipped to do something about it than anyone else here," Willow whispered back.

Oz let her go. "Usual signal?" Willow nodded. If she screamed he'd come.

"That's a good wolfie," Tucker chuckled as Oz sat down. Willow and Oz's eyes met. Clearly the woman knew something. As Willow followed the old woman, the residents began talking loudly as if to cover up the previous silence. Oz moved closer to the door, his amplified senses straining to follow his love.

Tucker's room was dark. The residence's usual antiseptic white walls were covered with black hangings with strange symbols embossed on them, some of which Willow recognized. She saw some crystals, an orb and two triangular pieces. There seemed to be chemicals in a little kitchenette. The room had two beds, one of which was supporting a mound of books. Automatically drawn to the books, Willow looked at the titles; many were familiar volumes from Giles' library but several were ones on Giles' closed shelf whose titles she had only glimpsed from afar.

"So what do you want with me?" Willow asked, pausing in her scrutiny of Tucker's chaotic library.

"You be late," Tucker repeated. "I expected you years ago."

"I'm sorry," Willow automatically apologized. "But what do you mean expected? I wasn't planning on coming here. I was still in high school and I don't think we've ever met or know anyone in common."

The old woman dismissed her babbling with a wave of her hand, "Da Powers that Be. Dey sent you to me. At last. You have power inside you. I feel it. More power than I had."

"You were a witch?"

The woman cackled. "Yes, I wielded da real magic. Not dat toy magic people today make so much of with New Age nonsense." She took a deep breath, breathing in through her nose. "You be touched by dat magic too. I smell it on you."

"I've worked some mojo or two," Willow answered. "But only to help." Despite what Kerr says, Willow thought to herself, I know the truth. "And you. Do you harm or help?"

"Good," Jenkins smiled. "You know dat most magic be neither good nor bad. Dat is in the user. Good witches get power by doing good. Bad witches through bad. And da more they do, the easier it becomes." She grabbed Willow's hand and touched it with the points of her fingers, putting her other hand's fingers on Willow's forehead. "You have dat power. You be strong. Too strong for just good."

Willow pushed her away. Why was everyone telling her she was bad. She wasn't. "That's not true," she insisted. "I'm just trying to help."

"But you be good too. Innocent. I can tell. How you be both?"

Willow just looked puzzled.

"Child, da only thing I can think to get your kinda power pool is dat you musta saved the world all by your little self."

Willow smiled. For the first time in the conversation, things were making sense. "How about assisting to save the world a few times."

"Looks like dat did it." The two laughed together.

The black witch looked at Willow through unfocused eyes, eyes that seemed to grow, reaching out to encompass past and future, real and potential.

"You have much power but scattered knowledge. Never trained. That be dangerous. I teach you"

"You will?" Willow was surprised and uncertain. "Can you?"

"I be old," Jenkins said. "Da fire not burn strong in me like you but it burns still. It wants to be passed on. Do you accept?"

Downstairs, Oz still strained to sense Willow. He sensed confusion and, at the moment when Jenkins said Willow was too strong for good, anger and panic. But, just as he was about to run after her, this emotion was followed by soothing feelings. Then all smells were blocked out by a new stench. It was a smell Oz remembered well. The smell of walking death. There were vampires in the building. And he had no way to warn Willow.

* * * * * * * * *

Oz inched toward the door. Something was strange at this old age home where he was volunteering with Willow and her Harvard roommates. First, a woman who residents swore was witch insisted that Willow accompany her upstairs. Now, he smelled vampires. He had to go warn Willow.

"Sorry Mr. Thornapple," Oz told the elderly man who was playing cards. "I have to go use the facilities for a bit."

"Perfectly understandable," the old man said, "The W.C. is down the hall," he pointed. Oz didn't bother to point out one of the 'benefits' of a wolf sense of smell.

Oz all but bolted out of the recreational room. His head aching from the struggle of trying to filter out the Willow scent from the vampire stench, he barely noticed the vampire coming down the hall. Oz reached into his jacket and pulled out a stake, only to have it knocked out of his hand by the vampire.

"What do we have here?" the vampire was in game face. "Not a fine vintage, but there's something to be said for the flavor of youth." His powerful hands grabbed Oz's head, bending it away from the neck. He bit, tasted, and spat. "Yuck, dog." He threw Oz down the hall, near the steps.

Oz struggled to his feet. The vampire continued advancing. "Since you're not clean food, no one will mind if I just kill." Oz prepared to leap away as his only chance.

"I'd mind," came a forceful voice with a touch of tremble. "Get away from my boyfriend."

It was Willow. Oz didn't dare turn around to look at her. But he knew her resolve face would be in place.

"With pleasure milady," the vampire mocked. "Suddenly I have a strong desire to start my meal with a light desert wine. A red desert wine."

Then Willow spoke again, not in any language Oz knew. "< Let there be Light >"

Oz turned and beheld a vision. Willow stood at the top of the steps, holding up a glowing orb. Her hair aflame in the light of the orb, Willow slowly walked down the steps. The light reached the vampire who stood transfixed at the sight. "Noooo", the vampire moaned out as the light engulfed him. It was like sunlight or holy water. The vampire reacted with the glow from the orb and simply combusted from the inside out.

"Nobody messes with my boyfriend," Willow said. "Oz, are you alright?" The two met in the middle of the stairs, in a hug that turned into a kiss.

"Very good," came an elderly voice. Ma'am Tucker, the ancient witch who had offered to teach Willow, moved towards the steps, supporting herself on the steps. "You powerful enough to burn dem."

"I don't know," Willow said, "I've never been able to make an orb light up like that except when I was restoring Angel's soul."

"Da power of true love," Tucker gave a toothless smile. "You saw your loverin danger and you reacted with more power den you knew. I remember."

Oz took a sniff. "That vampire wasn't alone. I smell at least four more."

"Dat nose certainly handy." Tucker said.

Willow reached into her bag which she had recovered from Ma'am Tucker's room. She took out three sharpened pencils. "I'm ready."

Tucker's eyes widened. "Pencils?"

Willow smiled and floated one in the air and made it lunge forward before dropping back into her hand. "I've been practicing at the Hellmouth."

"Something's wrong," Oz said slowly. "Five vampires attacking an old age home all at once? In Boston? We've had attacks in Sunnydale with fewer vamps."

Tucker reddened. "I've been holding dem off for months with da warding spell. Today I sensed I couldn't hold it no more. And den you came."

Willow and Oz exchanged a glance, glad Xander wasn't with them to say, "So you just got Tuckered out."

"But why here?" Oz asked.

"Easy prey," Willow tried to answer all the possibilities. "Many people who have outlived friends and relatives who might wonder what has happened to them. A place where people die everyday as normal part of the life-cycle."

"Dey attracted to death," Tucker interrupted Willow's babble.

"Yes," murmured a vampire, striding down the hall wearing a black trench coat and leather boots. "Blood is like wine. It ages gracefully."

"Ha," said Tucker. "Some wine turns to vinegar."

The vampire sniffed. "Yes, a shame. A vintage once potent with magic, now faded. A mere shadow of its former self. And here you stand powerless. I shall..."

He turned to dust as the floating pencil returned to Willow's hand. "Two down."

"Willow," Oz shouted, taking a stake and throwing it in the direction of a vampire who had seen the whole thing. Willow tried to grab the stake with her mind, to direct its course but had never practiced with a pencil that was already moving. She sighed making a mental note. Yet another something to practice. Oz had given it a good effort, the stake flew in the right direction, but the vampire easily deflected it with his hand and then slid down the hallway into the recreation room.

Oz and Willow shared a look. The recreation room was where all the people were.

Inside the recreation room, the games had stopped. In front, on the stage where classic Vaudeville routine were customarily reenacted, stood a man dressed in 19th century English formalwear. "Ladies and gentleman," he gestured with his thin cane. "You called and we have come. No longer shall you suffer from unbearable pains. No more shall you struggle with faltering memories and unreliable bodies. We offer you release. Today is the day you have been waiting for all your lives. The day that you die." He showed his game face.

"Uuuww, who died and made him Kevorkian?" Willow's roommate Rachel muttered, somewhat louder than she intended. The other Harvard students, scared more than they ever had been in their lives, looked at her in shock.

"Ah, yes, the classic dilemma. What do we go for, the impetuous of youth or the wisdom of the aged? The fresh, hot vigor or the well-seasoned experience?" he turned to the vampires blocking the door. "How about both?"

They grinned back at their master.

"Master, Master Hacken," the doorway guardians allowed the vampire from the hallway to enter the room. "There are slayers in the building."

"Nonsense," Hacken replied. "The Slayer has fled to the Hellmouth. I was there when Trick and the Master left to pursue. She and the Zombie-Slayer killed them both but had a falling out themselves. Still, I would certainly have been told if either of those two were coming here."

"But Master," the other vampire replied. "I saw it. She did something with a light and burned Carlos and then something floated through Tusk."

"Hmm," Hacken went. "Illumination, levitation in a place warded until today. Ivan you idiot, we're dealing with a witch, not a slayer."

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