wiccachica - that tryout was inspired. My hat's off to you *G*
Ruth ... I know Joel's Thrall is all yours ... and normally, I'd never dare gaze upon someone else's thrall ... but it's ... it's THERE. It's POSTED ... and I ... I Just Can't Look Away. Everytime I see it, I think "JOEL!" with one really short syllable, and the exclamation point intact. I've tried ... I swear I've tried to look away ... but I cannot. *hangs her head in shame* I'm a bad, bad person.
Anyway, here's the rather short-like first bit of 42. I was going to write more, but it's late, and I'm tired, and this is a fairly good stopping place for the middle of an update, so - here y'go.
Title: Answering Darkness Part 42 - Give
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to
pink_overalls@yahoo.comSummary: Just some more discoveries, with the gang in research mode. A few odd happenings. Sadly, Willow does not use chocolate to fingerpaint the entire works of Sappho in the original Greek onto Tara's back and then lick it off. Honestly, I tried to work that in here, but it just won't fit the narrative flow. Dammit.
Spoiler Warning: Up to and including "Tabula Rasa" in Season 6.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm just borrowing them because Season 6 angst is running high, and I want my happy ending now, dammit! So I'm writing it … but it'll be awhile until I get to that part, so bear with me (or "bare" with me if you're naughty).
Rating: PG-13.
Notes: For the purpose of this story, all events of Tabula Rasa took place exactly as shown in the series; however, no subsequent episodes will affect this piece. We're splitting from canon here, because I impatiently began writing this before 'Smashed' and 'Wrecked' aired.
Answering Darkness Part 42
Give
By Sassette
Tara read the page for the fifth time, the words sinking into her consciousness. Giles had pulled her aside when she and Willow had finally come downstairs and handed her back her mother's book, indicating she should read the pages he had bookmarked.
"… where love is given and accepted freely, no Evil can flourish," she whispered, tracing the words much as Giles had hours before, tears stinging the back of her eyes. The handwriting was oh so familiar. The neat script of her mother's hand had painstakingly copied the words from another source, setting it down in this book she had spent her life compiling.
She turned the page and read the spell, a blush stealing over her features. It was certainly clear why her mother and grandmother had never attempted it. Had her mother known, somehow? Had she known that Tara would one day be in a position to use this spell?
And could she? Really, was this even an option? She read the spell again, turning the issue over in her mind and studying it from all angles. She didn't know. Would this help Willow? But more importantly, would it hurt her?
There was certainly nothing Dark about the spell. There was nothing of the Dark in this book anywhere. She read the spell yet again, searching for any clue - any way of divining the outcome. It didn't, in fact, call for two people to cast. Only one had to actually cast the spell, but the … her thoughts derailed and she blushed again. Mentally shaking off her embarrassment, she pushed her thoughts forward, knowing that this was important. The two involved in the spell had to gather the energy together. Could Willow do that without falling back into her addiction?
And still, Tara didn't know. Was Willow addicted to all magick or just dark magick? She didn't know. Were some things allowed, and others not? Would her participation in this ritual be like … non-alcoholic beer to an alcoholic, giving her the taste, but not the buzz?
It was confusing. There were no cut and dry rules for magick addiction, as far as Tara knew. It certainly wasn't something common enough that it was studied. If someone tried to study such a thing, they'd probably get locked away.
Tara looked down at the book, turning back the page and reading again the passage that had struck a chord in Giles, finding that it struck a similar chord within her. Hadn't Willow turned to Dark Magicks in the name of love? Hadn't it been her terrible ordeal with Glory that had pushed Willow over the edge in the first place?
Swiftly, she pushed all thoughts of Glory from her mind. Best not to dwell on that. For the sake of her sanity, she couldn't - didn't dare - dwell on that.
Instead, she allowed her thoughts to turn back to the book in her lap, and everything it represented. She allowed herself a moment to feel a sort of wondering gratitude that this book managed to touch so directly upon her life. And she allowed herself a soft, sad smile as she remembered the woman who had written it.
There were two other companion books to this one, her mother called the Book of Light. The Book of Dark, set down by Tara's many times great grandmother explored the nature of evil, and the demon within the MaClay women. Tara had read it, of course, and the memory made her shiver. It was important, her mother had told her, to understand exactly what the consequences were - just why they had to be so careful.
And so she had read it, learning the words and the spells therein, but not to use. No, never to use. To know. To understand. And, honestly, to fear.
She never spoke of it, not to anyone. Not the Scoobies, and certainly not Willow. She had heard, once, that the Book of Dark was based on another book - one she had never seen but was sure existed. She wondered if Giles had picked up the Book of Dark - if he had read it and knew. If he understood. If he, much like herself, feared.
Willow couldn't see it. No - there was no way she was letting her lover anywhere near that book. It made the 'Darkest Magicks' tome from the magick shop seem tame in comparison. She didn't even want to contemplate the horrors the original must have held. There had been no need to copy the original in its entirety - only the portions that could help the MaClay women understand what they were - what they could become - only these were copied and kept and handed down as both a gift and a curse.
The Book of Shadow was different. It held knowledge - some of it terrible, certainly - that also needed to be passed on. It held writings and spells, stories and prayers, much as both the Book of Dark and the Book of Light - only these were dedicated to the balance. The book had been written to be a repository of all the MaClay women needed to know to keep from losing their minds at the horror of knowing what they could do one day, and how to stop themselves from doing it.
It wasn't until Tara's grandmother dedicated her life to expelling the demon entirely that the Book of Light was started. Even towards the beginning, most of it was in her mother's hand. Tara's grandmother and mother had worked on it together, from the time her mother was a young girl, and her letters were awkward. But each letter and word was filled with love, and it warmed Tara's heart.
Warmed her heart, yes - but made her both angry and sad, knowing that those two incredible women spent their lives trying to defeat a demon that had never existed.
"Tara, have you … read this?" Giles asked weakly, a sick look crossing his face as he turned yet another page.
"Yes," Tara answered simply, looking up at him with haunted eyes. She remembered … she remembered her mother crying when she had given her the book. The devastated look in her eyes as Tara had grown more and more withdrawn the more she had read. The pain and anguish adding new lines to her tired face, and it seemed as though Tara's mother had aged before her very eyes every time she stuttered. Tara could almost - almost - remember the carefree girl she had been, outgoing and confident. Before she noticed the whispers, the fearful glances. Before she had read the book and understood.
She had gotten some of that back, being with Willow. Some of the old Tara, the Tara she barely remembered, had emerged, and she had stood tall and proud by Willow's side, their love allowing her to become the person she felt she had been meant to be - before she knew anything of demons. The sure knowledge that no such thing dwelled within her, just waiting to emerge, had lent her the courage to really let herself love Willow, holding nothing back as she had before her 20th birthday.
That night she had given everything she had to the young woman who made her feel special, even when she was at her worst. Magick, Willow had said. How painfully ironic that magick had eventually driven them apart.
Which, if she was honest with herself, still hurt. Being apart from Willow hurt more, she had found, but still … the pain of Willow's behavior was still fresh. On one level, she felt guilty about feeling this way in the light of recent developments, from Willow's illness to the Hell God's hand in everything. On yet another, though, she wondered. How much of that was The Trickster, and how much was just Willow? Could her Willow have done such a thing without interference?
But that question wasn't even important - not really. The really question was, could she, Tara, completely forgive the fact that she had, no matter the reason?
"All of it?" Giles wondered aloud, interrupting Tara's musings as he became increasingly aware of just how much dark knowledge the young woman seated next to an oblivious Willow possessed. He was grateful, once again, for Willow's astounding focus, as she concentrated on her infernal machine, and paid no heed to the exchange he was having with Tara.
"Every word," Tara confirmed.
"I … I had no idea," Giles said, his voice heavy with regret and sorrow. A thought occurred to him. "How old were you?" he asked gently.
"Ten," Tara said softly, looking down at the book in her lap, her hair obscuring her features in a gesture that was painfully familiar to the assembled Scoobies who all looked up from what they were doing. Tara pressed her hand flat against the page and tried to take comfort from the knowledge that it wasn't real. There was no demon.
"What?" Willow asked, looking up and noticing all the eyes in the room were shifting back and forth uneasily between Giles and Tara. "What's wrong, baby?" she asked, reading Tara's unease in the hunch of her shoulders and the way she was looking down determinedly, not making eye-contact with anyone.
"Everything's fine," Tara said, forcing a smile to try to reassure Willow. It was clear by the expression on Willow's face that she wasn't buying it, so Tara tried for a gentle pleading look. Willow's gaze softened, and she nodded slightly, but Tara knew she wasn't off the hook. Willow would grill her later, just not in front of everyone.
"I'm gonna grab a drink. You want anything?" Tara asked softly, thanking Willow with her eyes for not pushing the issue.
"Yeah, I'll have some more witchy pain coffee," Willow said, a rueful smile twisting her lips.
"I wish you'd stop calling it that," Tara said with a sigh, standing up. "Anyone want anything?" she asked, looking at each Scooby in turn.
A chorus of 'coffee' broken only by Giles' 'tea' came up, and Tara laughed lightly. "Got it," she said with a smile, going into the kitchen to get coffee all around, and some tea for Giles.
Tara opened the cupboard, standing up on her tiptoes and reaching high to grab the coffee mugs. Really, Joyce had been the only one who could reach them easily there, but no one wanted to move them. She placed the cups on the counter, then paused, her hands gripping the edge as she took a deep breath, her eyes drifting shut.
The only certainty she had right now was that she loved Willow. Everything else was this crazy maelstrom of swirling colors, mixing and blending and moving too fast to make any sense of. It was confusing and too much to take on right now - it was all too much to really absorb and resolve with all the things that were going on. But still, she couldn't stop the feelings.
She hated feeling this way. She hated the wondering and the doubts and the recriminations, verbalized or not.
But mostly she hated the guilt. She knew it was ridiculous to feel guilty about this whole twisted situation, but she did. There was a part of her that kept trying to find someone or something to blame for everything - someone other than Willow - and that part kept turning back on itself, pointing the finger at her.
If only.
If only she had been stronger, and helped Willow to understand the dangers inherent in taking magick too lightly. Then Willow would have never gone down that dark path - would have never sunk to that level, tampering with magicks she couldn't understand.
If only she had been weaker, and not rocked the boat, letting Willow find her own path without her nagging. No fight - no spell - no betrayal.
If only she had been better, somehow, and had been able to defend herself against Glory.
Her teeth clenched together as a wave of dizziness washed over her, and a pounding rose up in her head. Pictures flashed against the backs of her eyelids - pictures awash in a sea of blood.
A tiny whimper escaped her, and her knees buckled, her hands automatically finding purchase on the countertop and clamping down, stopping her descent to the floor.
"Tara, are you all right?" Giles asked, helping the girl into a chair, his face creased with worry as he watched her seem to fold in on herself, drawing her legs up underneath her and wrapping her arms around her chest. Her eyes were pressed tightly closed, and she rocked, shaking her head as if trying to deny … something. "Tara?" he asked again.
She tried to shake away the pictures - to cast them out of her head, but they were back. She forced herself to take deep breaths, trying to calm her ragged nerves and hoping the scenes in her mind would pass - that they would subside and she wouldn't have to think about them - to process them.
Giles hovered nearby, completely unsure of what to do. He had seen this before - far too often - over the summer, and he knew from experience that alerting Willow to the problem was not what Tara wanted. Still, he wished he could actually do something for the girl, instead of stand nearby and wait.
After a few long moments, Tara started muttering, and though he couldn't make out the words, Giles recognized their cadence, and he relaxed marginally. Tara would be alright now, he knew, so her poured the coffee and his tea, then added the ever-present baking soda to Willow's drink.
Tara's breathing and heart rate eased, and the pictures faded. Weary blue eyes blinked open, and she smiled wanly at Giles, as he looked back, his expression troubled.
"You haven't been doing your meditations," he said, the words definitely not a question.
"I've been a little busy," Tara said softly, a half-smile that didn't reach her eyes curling the edges of her lips.
"Tara," he began, kneeling in front of the girl and placing a comforting hand on her arm. "You went through a horrible ordeal. None of us can possibly imagine … what that was like. I was … troubled when you refused to tell Willow about it, and I still think that it would be best to -"
"No," Tara said firmly, shaking her head. "She … she thinks it's all her fault to begin with. It's … my gift to her. My silence is my gift to her."
"And her support and love would be her gift to you, if you'd just let her -" Giles argued back.
"No," Tara said again, her features stern as she looked directly into Giles' eyes. "She … saved me … from that. And she's going through so much. I can't -"
"Can't what?" Giles asked gently. "Can't let her help you? Can't let her be the shoulder you lean on?"
"Maybe later, when this is over," Tara said softly, her eyes troubled.
"More excuses," Giles said briskly, standing up and looking down at Tara. "First it was Buffy, and now it's Willow herself. Just how many more crises are you going to allow to interfere with what you need?"
"You don't understand," Tara said, shaking her head and standing, edging around Giles to stand at the counter, looking down at the coffee cups.
"Then tell me," Giles said, removing his glasses and rubbing his tired eyes. "You need to talk about this."
"I don't want to talk about this," Tara said, her voice harsh and low. "I don't want to talk about what it was like when that bitch stuck her fingers in my skull. I don't want to talk about how helpless and lost I felt, or how dark and lonely everything was. And I definitely don't want to talk about how I saw … all the things that she … like it was me," Tara choked out. "Like I did those things."
"You didn't do anything," Giles said firmly, pulling Tara into an awkward hug. "It wasn't you. You were seeing what Glory did," he assured her.
"It was … it's …" Tara started to say, then pulled her way out of the hug. "I'm sorry," she finally said. "The meditations stop the flashes. I won't forget them again," she said abruptly, grabbing a tray and starting to place the cups onto it.
Giles sighed soundlessly, knowing that Tara wasn't going to confide in him. It was a difficult role he played in this odd mix of heroes. Neither one of them, nor completely apart from them, he was the mentor. The guide. The adult.
But not for Tara. That was probably why he genuinely enjoyed her company so much, and why, once he had gotten over the shock and gotten to know the young woman, he was so happy for Willow. Tara needed no mentor or guide. She needed no adult. Before they had met, she had been very much on her own, and she had risen to the challenge, taking control of her life.
Though shy and reticent, she had always had a discernible core of strength and goodness, and he had been pleased to see it come to the fore as she grew more comfortable with herself. Willow had been that catalyst, he knew. Willow had done so much for Tara - would, in fact, do anything for Tara, wise or not - and it pained him to think that Willow could do nothing for her now, because she simply didn't know that anything needed to be done.
Still, it wasn't his place to interfere.
"Did you read the spell?" Giles asked after a pause, deliberately changing the subject. Tara merely nodded several times in response, idly arranging the cups in different patterns. "Do you think you will, umm, I mean to say that …" he said awkwardly, gesturing aimlessly.
"I think I should talk to Willow about it," Tara said after awhile. "I don't know if … it could go bad, or maybe not even work," she said uncertainly.
"I honestly doubt it will go badly," Giles said, his expression thoughtful. "Willow won't be called upon to actually cast …"
"But she'll have to, umm … gather energy," Tara said. "I don't know if that's … it could be too much for her. I don't … I don't want to ask her to do a spell."
"Talk to her," Giles urged. "I think … with the way you connected your dreams, naturally, it would … it would be rather the same. And so far, it's our only hope."
A faint grin crossed Tara's face as the absurd image of a holographic Giles kneeling before R2D2 and earnestly telling her she was 'our only hope' crossed her mind. Obi-Wan Kenobi she was not.
"Use the Force, Willow," she muttered, shaking her head.
"What was that?" Giles asked, having not quite caught what Tara had said.
"Nothing," Tara said with another shake of her head, hefting the tray. "I'll talk to her about it. Tomorrow."
"I'll, umm … either way," Giles began, shifting where he stood and looking decidedly uncomfortable. "We'll move the research to the Magic Box tomorrow night, and Buffy and Dawn and I will stay with Xander and Anya," he said hurriedly, getting the words out as quickly as possible.
"I, umm … thank you," Tara said, thinking over the offer for just a moment before deciding it sounded like a good idea. Spell or no spell, she and Willow needed the time together.
"Right then," Giles said with a nod, taking the tray from Tara's hands. "I'll make the arrangements."
by wiccachica » Sun Mar 31, 2002 4:07 pm 
at: 4/1/02 7:32:45 am
at: 4/1/02 5:56:18 pm
