New FIC - Revising Season 6 {SPOILERS}

[Sarabie317]

NOTE: SPOILERS THROUGH SEASON SIX.

This is a revisionist piece that brings season 6 to a satisfying conclusion for W/T fans.





The unspoiled have been warned.















Title: Revising Season 6 (isn't that clever?)

Rating: PG - maybe PG-13

Distribution: Ask permission.

Feedback: Please and Thank You. Post here or email me.

Background Notes: I wrote this a couple of months ago, when I first became aware of the events planned for the end of Seeing Red. It was a defensive move on my part. I didn't like a lot of the things that had happened and were going to happen, so I concocted an ending to the season that would set the world right for Willow & Tara. At this time, I still don't know what the finale will bring - but I'm prepared with my little story here.

Copyright Disclaimer: I didn't create the characters, the storylines, or any of the situation that they're in now. That belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, UPN, and whoever else owns interest in Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.

Notes: This can be picked up anytime after Seeing Red. There are vague references to events in the final 3 episodes, some of which is little more than conjecture on my part (since I haven't seen the last two eps yet). I don't believe that those minimal references would make it difficult for those who have chosen not to watch anything past Seeing Red to follow the story.







===================





Tara felt a warm glow all around her, and breathed deeply the sweetest air she had ever known. The atmosphere was energizing, electrifying, and consummately comforting. She was awash in absolute peace as she gradually came to full consciousness. She opened her eyes to a world so beautiful as to defy description.



Tara sat up and looked around her, drinking in the delightful serenity of her environment. She saw a lone figure off in the distance, gradually approaching her. The figure was swathed in flowing iridescent robes, and moved – nearly floated – majestically, steadily toward her.



The Wiccan had no idea who – or what – this mysterious figure might be. It seemed ethereal, certainly not human, yet, even with her vast experiences with non-human evil entities, she felt no fear. She felt only calm.



She rose to her feet to observe its approach, and to greet it. It was clearly coming toward her, coming for her. As it got closer, Tara was able to make out some of the details of its appearance. She beheld the face of a kind woman, looking at her in complete love and trust. A familiar face.



The realization slammed into her, not with the thud of a wrecking ball; instead it went through her like a living light. “Mom?” she squeaked in a choked voice, barely audible.



“Yes, dear,” came the reply. Tara was immediately enveloped in the iridescent cloth of those flowing robes, wrapped up in her mother’s loving arms, snuggled against her ample bosom.



Tara’s utter amazement soon gave way to a multitude of realizations and questions. “Where?…What’s going on here? Where is this place? I must be dead, then. Am I dead, Mom?” Tara searched her memory for the answers. She remembered her friend, her good friend, her girlfriend actually, and the hours that seemed like moments they had just spent together. She remembered the warmth of the redhead’s bare skin against hers, her scent, her taste, her curves, every sense fully immersed in the process of melding two bodies into one. She saw flashes of intertwined fingers and tongues, two starved lovers attending and absorbing every part of one another, lipstick trails covering expanses of bare skin, murmurs and moans of pleasure and release. She remembered the warmth of the afterglow, her lover looking longingly at her, a look that spoke volumes of undying love, desire, and devotion. She remembered finally getting dressed, still giddy with the fresh passion of make-up sex. Then she remembered hearing the crack of a gunshot split the air, and seeing her lover’s blouse spattered red.



Lost in these thoughts, Tara barely heard her Mother’s reply. “Yes, dear, you died. You’re in a heavenly dimension, one that is governed by The Supreme Council of Witches. Come, walk with me.” Tara grasped the extended hand and the two started walking.

Denial, I'm your bitch

Edited by: Sarabie317 at: 5/20/02 5:20:52 pm

[Sarabie317]

Tara’s thoughts were tumbling furiously as she reacted to the shock. She thought about her friends, her love, and all that she’d left behind. She had died young and tragically, just as her Mother had.



Recognizing the confusion, Tara’s Mother allowed some silence to enable Tara to sift through her thoughts. “I want you to know how proud you’ve made me, Tara. What you are – what you’ve become – is as much as any Mother could have ever hoped for.”



“But so much of it had to do with Willow, Mom,” she argued. “She brought out the best of me. I really wasn’t so much until she came into my life.” Believing that her Mother wouldn’t know what she was talking about, Tara tried to explain. “Willow is – was my, um, girlfriend, Mom. I’m gay.”



“I know. I’ve been watching you, dear. But you need to know that the seeds were within you all along. Maybe she helped you make them sprout. You are a phenomenal young woman, Tara. You need to know that. And there is much more you need to know, too.”



They walked side-by-side, hand-in-hand, talking about the good times they’d shared. Tara took full advantage of the opportunity to tell her Mother about all that she’d gone through when she lost her Mother so young. The discussion helped Tara to release her anger and frustration and the nagging feeling that she’d been abandoned. Their walk brought them to a settlement with buildings and many other beings walking, talking, and laughing. Tara noticed the others would smile and nod in deference to them as they passed.



“I-Is that a greeting of some sort?” Tara asked.



“It is. It is also a sign of respect. I hold a high position here, Tara. I am one of the seven High Priestesses that make up the Supreme Council. My attire identifies my position.”



“Oh. I-I guess I did notice that you were dressed a lot differently than the others, that shiny sort of glowy stuff, is like, wow.”



The High Priestess stopped in front of a raised official-looking building and faced her daughter. “Tara, an emergency Council meeting is about to start. In fact, it will start as soon as we get there. Is there anything else you need to discuss with me? I’m sorry to cut our mother-daughter bonding time short, but we haven’t much time.”



“W-What? W-We? Why would I be going to that meeting? Aren’t we here for eternity?”



“Both of us are needed at the meeting. Your questions will be answered there. Come.”



They entered the Grand Hall and made their way to the Grand Chambers. A pair of doormen bowed and opened the double doors to admit them to the Supreme Council Chambers, where six other High Priestesses, dressed exactly like Tara’s Mother, awaited their arrival. Mother and daughter took the seats reserved for them.



The High Priestess wearing a jeweled tiara spoke. “I am Melon, the Supreme High Priestess. We have much to tell you, Tara, and we haven’t much time. You are in a place of power, a heavenly dimension that provides a dwelling place for the most powerful witches who are not currently incarnate in your dimension of origin. It was not your destiny to come to this dimension at this time in your life, but it became your fate. When you were killed, we retrieved you and brought you here. We have urgent matters to discuss.”

Denial, I'm your bitch

[Sarabie317]

Tara shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wondering why this high council was so interested in her. Melon continued, “One of our own is incarnate right now in a life that has posed great difficulty. She has overcome considerable odds in using her talents to accomplish much good for humanity. Her magick is strong, her power enormous, but she lacks the emotional wisdom to use it properly.” Tara started nodding in immediate recognition of these characteristics.



“She has denied the source of her power, and failed to fully grasp the rightful application of it. She toys with powerful forces. She warps dimensions as though it were a child’s game.”



The words fell hard on Tara’s ears. She sat up in her seat and proclaimed, “b-but I tried! I-I told her it was w-wrong, the things she w-was doing, and she made changes, she stopped – “



“Silence!” barked Her Supreme High Priestess Melon. “You are here to listen. We are fully aware of these things. There are some things, though, of which you are not aware.”



Tara sunk back into her seat, expecting to be blamed, perhaps punished for something over which she had no control. Her only refuge was the knowledge that at least she wouldn’t be persecuted for being a witch. The exposition continued. “A witch who is as powerful as this one cannot ever completely quit using magick. Once those forces are channeled through her, they must continue to move through her as water down a river. Not a small stream that can easily dissipate, like a spellcaster of lesser power, but a mighty, mighty river. If you dam a mighty river and allow no spillage, the dam will eventually burst and the raging floodwaters destroy everything in sight. That, I’m sorry to say, is her fate.”



Tara was aghast at this revelation, and felt the guilt wash over her as she blamed herself for insisting that Willow quit using magick. She studied the top of the table in front of her, believing that all eyes in the room were looking at her punitively. She felt that she had shamed and disgraced her Mother. “I-It’s all my fault,” she whispered, her chin quivering. “I-I pushed her that way, I –“



“No, Tara, you’re not to blame.” The voice of the Supreme High Priestess softened. Tara looked up to see compassion on each face in this assemblage of honor. “It really isn’t her fault, either. You need to understand that this is not unusual. Our most powerful witches develop their abilities very early in life; often before they develop the emotional stability and the wisdom to cope. Some of them burn out or destroy themselves before they’re able to take control. Too many, in fact. Your mate is not unusual in that regard.”



Tara couldn’t believe what she was hearing, wouldn’t accept that there was no hope for Willow. She slumped in her seat, able to do nothing but resign herself to the inevitability of Willow’s fall.



“She is unusual, though, in another sense. There is hope for her redemption. At this moment, she is in complete meltdown. Her anguish over your death caused her to lose the fierce emotional control that was keeping the dam in place. The dyke (heh-heh) would have crumbled soon, anyway. Your death only determined the timing.”



Melon continued, “She might be able to learn proper respect for her magick if she can learn proper respect for herself. It is not the magick that provides her with power. She has great personal power without magick, but she hasn’t learned that yet. She must learn that her personal power is the master, the magick only a tool. And she has the constitution to survive as a conduit for magicks beyond your wildest dreams.”



Tara briefly brightened with renewed hope for Willow, then frowned again, wondering how Willow could possibly come to understand these things.



“Tara, your intuitive wisdom, maturity, and compassion are astounding for one so young. We commend you on your responsible development and use of your powers and your magicks. This Council believes that you have the character, the strength, and the raw talent to reassemble one very broken, confused, and scary powerful young witch. We want her functional; she is needed to combat evil and keep order in that world. We want to send you back to her, but the choice is entirely yours."



Tara was ecstatic with the prospect. “Oh, yes, I-I want to go back, but – I don’t know, I don’t think I can –“



“You’re not questioning the judgement of this Council are you, Tara? We are unanimous in our faith in you.” Her Supreme High Priestess Melon finally surrendered her dignified, serious expression to a warm smile.



“Oh, no, I-I would never…” Tara beheld the approving looks around the table and absorbed their confidence in her, adopting it as her own.



“This matter has been decided. Meeting adjourned. Council will retire to the ritual chambers to perform the transfer.” The High Priestesses pushed back from the table and started casually conversing among themselves until Melon intervened. “Let’s get with it, ladies. If we hurry, we won’t have to make any adjustments to the time continuum in their dimension, which is always a hassle.”



Tara’s Mother met her with a warm hug. As the others filed out of the room, she looked deeply into Tara’s eyes and said, “I want you to know how very much I love you. How much you mean not only to me, but to this Council, as an exemplary Wiccan. You’re very special, Tara. Anytime you feel uncertain in making difficult choices, ask yourself, your inner knowing. It is a direct link to us and to universal understanding. It always holds the right answer. That is your greatest gift. We need to go into the ritual now, to send you back. Oh, and one more thing – tell Willow to take good care of my beautiful daughter. I expect I’ll meet her, too, one day.” They shared a teary smile, hugged and walked to the ritual chambers.



One wall of the chambers was lined with cabinets full of fresh spell ingredients, charms, amulets, crystals, and various other magick artifacts in an splendid array the likes of which Tara had never seen. On the counter were two different sets of containers and implements where the potions were being mixed.



Tara took her position, sitting cross-legged in the center of the symbol on the floor as the High Priestesses formed a circle around her. “We will be performing two different rites in succession, Tara,” explained the Ritual Leader. “The first will imbue you with the memory of everything that has transpired in your world since your death. Then we will send you back to the life you had there. Are you ready?”



Tara nodded, closed her eyes, and immediately lost her perception of her physical surroundings. “These High Priestesses don’t fool around,” she thought. Then it hit her – a horrific series of events that started with her death and culminated with her soulmate on the brink of suicide. At any other time in her life, Tara would have reacted to such violence with disgust, contempt, and fear. She sensed that the Council gave her an extra dose of courage and compassion, too, before they dispatched her.

Denial, I'm your bitch

[Sarabie317]

She opened her eyes and found herself on the top of a hill, in her body with a bullet wound through the heart. The wound was healing rapidly, and was more of an annoyance than anything else. She heard a familiar voice through the foliage. It was Xander!



“C’mon, Will, you don’t want to do this. I don’t want to lose you. I love you. I need you to be okay.” Xander sounded distressed and desperate, on the verge of tears.



Tara followed the sound of that voice and found Xander kneeling beside a very dark Willow who was groveling on the ground, wallowing in violent sobs. “Xander, I’m glad you were here to help Willow when she needed someone willing to go on the ropes for her. She’s lucky to have a friend so loyal and diligent as you.”



Xander looked up, his mouth falling open in disbelief. “Tara? But, how? We thought you were dead!”



At that, Willow’s head jerked up to take a look. “I’m already being haunted! Tortured by some pervert with my dead lover’s body! I can’t take any more Xander, I can’t!” she buried her head in her hands and wailed in agony.



“I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s really me,” Tara explained. “You know it’s possible for a dead person to be brought back to life. You’ve done it.” Tara received no response, but she had their attention. “How can I prove it? Xander, you were supposed to get married last month, and there was a wedding but no actual marriage occurred. Dawn isn’t really Buffy’s sister, at least she wasn’t 15 years ago when she was supposedly born, no, she was created by these Monks from beautiful green, shimmery energy called the key, and I happen to know it was green shimmery energy because I saw it because I was brain-sucked by Glory at the multicultural fair immediately after my first real fight with Willow, and Glory is a God from some hell dimension and she had minions that look like hobbits with leprosy and the gates were opened by Dawn’s blood but Buffy closed them by jumping into the energy which killed her and then we brought her back but we were interrupted by a demonic motorcycle gang…..do I need to go on?”



Xander stood up and approached Tara. “I’m convinced. I don’t understand it, but I sure do like it. Just let me be the first to say big-time woo, followed by a resounding chorus of hoo and how glad I am to see you all alive and everything. We all missed you when you two were separated, and we really hope you can do the Scooby again.”



“Thanks, Xander. Really. It’s great to see you, but – I-I need some alone time with Willow, if that’s okay.”



“Yeah, I get that, but I don’t think you know what you’re dealing with right now. You might need some help. Willow is, well, she’s just not herself at the moment.”



“I-I understand that, Xander. I can handle this. I need to handle this.” Tara simply asserted her position with no uncertainty, no apology.



“Alright. But I’ll be nearby, just in case.” Xander sauntered off, but not very far off.



Tara turned her gaze to Willow, still on the ground, staring at her in absolute shock. Willow was frozen motionless, emotionless, centered between the joy of seeing Tara alive and the horror of the impending fallout from her series of acts of badness.



“Stand up, Willow.” Tara stretched out her hand to her broken lover.



Willow grasped Tara’s proffered hand and rose to her feet, alternating between looking at Tara with love and hope and looking at the ground in shame. Tara wrapped her arms around a very confused young witch. “It’s okay, darling.”



Willow laid her head on Tara’s shoulder for a moment, then sharply pulled away, turned away, and looked at the ground. “No, it isn’t okay. You don’t know what I’ve done. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t be here if you did. You’d hate me as much as I hate myself,” she whimpered.



“Oh, but I do know exactly what you’ve done, and I don’t hate you. Point of fact – I love you, Will. There are reasons for everything that happened. Valid reasons. I learned a lot while I was dead. Still, I wouldn’t recommend it, though,” Tara tried to inject some levity to lighten up the mood. “Dying, that is. It was so not fun.”



“Was it – painful?” Willow asked the question, not sure she wanted to know the answer.



“Very,” Tara replied, and saw Willow wince. “But only for a moment. You know, Will, i-it seems that it may have hurt you more than it did me. Unique experience. I mean, how many people have you ever known that, that died and lived to tell about it?”



“Two now, I guess.” Tara’s good humor helped Willow’s natural curiosity to overcome her emotional frailty. She turned to face Tara. “Well, what then? What happened? Where were you, anyway, and how in the frilly heck did you get back here? I couldn’t raise you, but I sure did try! Have you been here long? How did you find me?”



Tara couldn’t help but grin at her irrepressible Willowness. She took Willow’s face in her hands and gently stroked her cheeks. “That’s too many questions all at once, love. Please be patient. There are many things you need to know, much I need to tell you. And a whole big bunch of stuff we need to work through, too, you know. But we can. A-And we will. One step at a time.”



“You sound like spellcaster’s anonymous.” Willow shuddered at the thought. “Oh, wow. That’s gonna be so –“



“Non-existent,” Tara interrupted. “No more 12-stepping for you. You don’t need magick, but you don’t need to give it up, either.” Willow’s look was quizzical, her darkness fading fast as she swam in the blue pools of her lover’s eyes, inches from her face. “One of the many things we need to discuss.” Tara kissed Willow gently and tenderly, and as they held each other close, Willow’s darkness vanished without a trace. “There’s my redhead,” Tara proclaimed with glee.



Willow studied Tara’s face, basking in the love, then quietly murmured, “I got so lost.”



Recognizing her cue, Tara flashed a broad smile and replied, “But I found you. I’ll always find you. Now, let’s go home, honey.” Tara didn’t wait around for any further discussion or arguments, she simply strolled away.



Willow stumbled behind Tara, catching up to walk alongside her. Weak from magick dispersal, emotional exhaustion, and still smarting with doubts that she deserved Tara’s love, Willow asked with trepidation, “Yours or mine?”



Tara took Willow’s hand, interlacing their fingers, then stated very simply, succinctly, and definitively, “Ours.”

Denial, I'm your bitch

Edited by: Sarabie317 at: 5/17/02 8:04:01 pm

[The Rose24]

Excellent idea. Is this the end of the story?

Tara: My heart doesn't stutter.

Tara: Willow, I got so lost.
Willow: I found you. I will always find you.

Willow: Hi, um Tara. I was wondering maybe you want to go out some time for coffee? food? Kisses and gay love?

[Little M]

Great fic!!!!!!!! If only this would happen

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'I go online sometimes, but everyone's spelling is really bad..it's depressing' - Tara

[The Next Tara Maclay]

Hey, Nice Story... Is that the end of it???

[Miss1234Kitty]

That had so better NOT be the end ... fantastic fic.



Gem

[pleasantlyblue]

great fic

i too vote for 'not the end'

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the girl of my dreams is giving me nightmares

[Sarabie317]

Thank you so much for your kind comments.



I sort of ran straight for the payoff - to get the girls happily back together. Still, they have many issues to work through. Much more to be explored.



I will continue with this. Stay tuned.

Denial, I'm your bitch

[Zooey42]

Thanks, Sarabie. That's wonderful. Please write some more. Please? Remember, I'm your bitch.

Willow: "Aha! A curse on Slayers. Oh, no, wait. It's lawyers."

[Bagheera]

Sweeettttt

[earthlovinwicca]

More please!!

[mollyig]

Great the way that Tara's love for her made the darkness recede.

Adding up the total of a love that's true, multiply life by the power of two
Indigo Girls

[Scout]

I definitely prefer this ending to the one we actually got stuck with - especially Xander stepping aside so Tara could save the day. And I'm glad to hear that you're going to continue it.

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"Tara's not dead at all - she just has a new group of writers." - Sassette