mollyig - thank you. And now for a complete change of pace here's Part 2.
Part 2
Rating: M15 Adult themes, occasional coarse language“I’m kind of worried about Tara,” Willow blurted suddenly. It was breakfast the next morning. Willow, Buffy and Faith sat around the breakfast table, sharing a pot of coffee. Buffy and Faith both looked a little dishevelled and tired after their late night, while Willow crackled with nervous energy. Tara had not come downstairs yet. Buffy turned a weary eye in the redhead’s direction.
“Sorry Will?” the blonde Slayer asked.
“Tara,” Willow repeated. “Does she seem okay to you?”
“I guess,” Buffy hesitated. “She’s been kind of – quiet since you guys got back, but I think she’s just tired. Three months on the road livin’ the rock ‘n roll lifestyle’s gotta take it out of you.”
“I-I don’t mean just tired,” Willow continued, “though maybe that’s kind of part of it, but I think there’s more if you know what I mean. She seems to have something on her mind and she seems a lot of the time to be – kind of - sad.” Willow looked to Buffy and Faith as if asking them to confirm that they had seen it too.
‘Well, Tara’s always been – you know, Tara,” Buffy stumbled. “She’s always been sort of a – quiet person. Shy, whatever you want to call it. And she’s been through a lot lately. I mean, she’s died more times than me, now. She’s probably got a lot of stuff to process and her way is to be, you know, kind of withdrawn and – and, again with the quiet.”
“Bullshit B, Tara’s depressed,” Faith snorted. The last word hung heavily in the air, accompanied by an uncomfortable silence.
“No way -” Buffy began to say.
“Depressed?” Willow spoke over the top of her friend. “Do you really think so?”
“Saw plenty of it when I was inside,” Faith said simply. “It hits different people in different ways. Some go nuts and start bashing crap out of things or cutting themselves; others just pull back into themselves. Sit in their cells and stare at the walls twenty four-seven. Okay, Buffy’s right that Tara’s always been quiet, but she’s more than that now. She hardly says two words. She’s up late and sleeps in. She’s always tired and taking naps. She never leaves the house. She’s hardly picked up her guitar this last week. That’s a big part of it; you stop doing the things you love.” Faith looked long and hard at Willow who, flustered, lowered her eyes and stared at the table top in front of her.
“Well I don’t believe it.” Buffy said firmly, “Why would Tara be depressed?”
“You said it yourself B, she’s died three times. She’s got stuff to process,” Faith agreed. “Like the fact that the last time she died she was a kick-ass superhero, and now she’s Josephine Ordinary.”
“That wouldn’t matter to Tara,” Willow objected. “Would it?”
Faith sniffed. “If I woke up tomorrow and I wasn’t a Slayer anymore, I’d be pretty pissed off about it.”
“With no Hellmouth around, being a Slayer’s looking kind of redundant,” Buffy interjected.
“Crap,” Faith said simply. “Being a Slayer is the only thing that keeps me going. And I know you talk about ‘normal life’ B, but face it, you get off on being the Slayer.” The brunette fixed Buffy with a piercing stare. The older Slayer dropped her eyes.
“But she’s got you,” Buffy said quietly to Willow. “Everything’s back the way it should be. I don’t understand why she can’t be happy.”
“Depression’s like that, B,” Faith pointed out. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Unless, I mean, there’s no Hellmouth anymore, but,” Willow said, “look at L.A., it never had a Hellmouth and it’s got demons all over, what if there’s a demon out there that’s making Tara feel this way?”
“Dawn will help you research it when she gets home,” Buffy suggested. “She’s large with the demon database right now.”
“And if it’s not a demon, take her to see a shrink,” Faith concluded.
Willow moaned in response. “I hate that idea, it’s like I’m saying she’s sick or bad, or…crazy.” They all knew that when Willow said it, she was thinking more about herself. For a moment there was silence.
“There’s nothing wrong with getting sick, Will,” Buffy said gently. “If you were sick or hurt, Tara would take you to the doctor.”
“But when I had p-problems with magic, it was Tara that pulled me through,” Willow said.
“Because no-one knows more about magic than she does. But we’re none of us experts on depression,” Buffy replied.
“I just want her to be happy again,” Willow said. They all nodded and sipped their coffee. Just then, they heard footfalls on the stairs, and Tara entered the kitchen. Her eyes looked weary, even though she had slept in. She looked at the trio and tried to smile, but didn’t quite manage it.
“Morning,” Tara said weakly.
“Would you like to join us for breakfast?” Willow asked with exaggerated good cheer.
Tara’s mouth twisted. “M-maybe coffee. I’m not really hungry.”
“Oh but Tara, breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” Willow pleaded.
At last Tara smiled, a little. “I’ll join you, and see how I feel,” she said quietly. “Anything – did you hear that?” she asked suddenly. There were blank looks and shaken heads around the table.
Willow’s eyes widened. “Did you hear like, a demon-y sound?” she wondered.
“No,” Tara said, puzzled. “Just a scratching at the back door. There it is again.” This time they could all hear the faint noise. Tara got up at once and went to answer it.
“Tara! Wait!” Willow called after her, the talk of depression-causing demons having unsettled the redhead. But it was too late. As if drawn, Tara rushed to the back door and opened it. She looked down, and a cry of astonishment escaped the blonde witch.
“Miss Kitty!” Tara cried in joyous surprise, bending and scooping the furry bundle into her arms, and carrying it back into the kitchen.
The three seated women looked at the new arrival. In turn, the black and white cat looked at them, and up at Tara.
“Roawwr?” Miss Kitty commented, stretching her long snaky neck up and delicately touching Tara under the chin with her damp little nose. Dark lips slightly agape, the cat’s front fangs came briefly into view, lending the cat an undeservedly savage appearance.
“Oh I missed you too,” Tara cooed, hugging the animal against her face. “Where on earth have you been all this time?”
“Kkk,” Miss Kitty replied, enthusiastically rubbing her whiskers and the side of her head against Tara’s cheek.
“Old friend?” Faith asked Buffy.
“Umm, I think so,” Buffy said hesitantly. She vaguely remembered Tara having a tiny kitten in her dorm room back in the early days at college, but not this fully grown version.
Suddenly Tara threw her head back and laughed aloud, her face alight with simple undiluted joy. The noise of it startled Willow; it had only been a few days, but it seemed like an age since the last time the redhead had heard her lover laugh, properly. For a moment Willow was uncertain what gave her the greatest pleasure; to see Tara happy once more, or to be reunited with their long-lost feline friend. The next moment, Willow was out of her seat and across the room, engulfing Tara and cat in a cosy embrace.
“Rrrr?” Miss Kitty observed, as she greeted the new arrival with a poke of her nose. Her tail beat an insistent rhythm against Tara’s thigh as the cat twisted about to look and sniff Willow up and down. Apparently satisfied, Miss Kitty tucked her head down onto her body and purring furiously, allowed herself to be stroked by the couple.
Buffy remembered now; Miss Kitty Fantastico, for such was her full and correct name, had been a sneaky dorm kitten for Tara and Willow to share. Somewhere in one of Tara’s several moves, she had gone astray out a carelessly left-open window, and had been insufficiently settled in her new surroundings to find her way back. There had been search parties, Willow and Tara searching darkened streets calling plaintively and looking in vain for their lost cat. Then there were the theories: perhaps Miss Kitty had been abducted; months later, Willow was horrified when she heard that certain demons used kittens as gambling chips, though it had not really surprised her when she had learned that one of the culprits had been Spike. In her blackest, foulest moods, Willow suspected that it was Xander that had left the window open, most probably when he had thrown some chewing gum out the window, or worse, that he had deliberately opened it,
or even pushed Miss Kitty out, for the redhead had long held a deep-seated suspicion that her closest childhood friend was a closet ailurophobe. Willow’s worst and most unfounded fear was that Miss Kitty Fantastico had found a more attractive and loving home than the one she had left behind. This was of course impossible.
Wherever she had been for the last year and more, Miss Kitty Fantastico seemed at any rate to have prospered. Fully-grown and plump, her short-haired coat clean and unblemished, she was the picture of a healthy young adult cat. She had no identifying markings, other than a red plastic flea collar of the type sold by the hundred in pet shops and renowned universally for their ineffectiveness. Her claws were long and sharp, her teeth were white and none seemed to be missing, there were no battle notches on her ears and her breath, while catty, was not altogether unpleasant. Or so it seemed to Miss Kitty’s ecstatic co-owners.
“Dear Miss Kitty, where have you been?” Willow crooned.
“You got lost, didn’t you?” Tara said. “But now you’ve found us again, and you’ll never get lost again, you’ll have a comfortable bed and the best food and – Goddess Willow, we haven’t got anything for her.”
“We can make a bed for her with a basket and an old blanket,” Willow soothed the suddenly anxious Tara.
“Mrrr,” Miss Kitty contradicted the redhead. She had no intention of sleeping anywhere other than on Tara and Willow’s bed; preferably between the two women where it was extra warm.
“And I think her litter tray is in the basement someplace,” Willow added.
“But we’ve nothing for her to eat. Willow, we’ll have to go shopping.” Willow was more pleasantly surprised than ever. Here was Tara offering to go out spontaneously.
“Right now?” Willow asked innocently.
“Sure, why not?” Tara replied. “I’ll get my coat.” Miss Kitty twisted out of Tara’s arms and leapt lightly onto the floor, making a beeline for the couch. She sprang onto it, sought out the most comfortable part with her paws and promptly curled up and shut her eyes. Tara and Willow looked at each other and laughed.
By the time Tara and Willow opened the front door and left, waving a cheery goodbye to the two Slayers, the cat seemed to be fast asleep. Faith sipped a little more of her coffee and grinned at Buffy.
“Mood swing much?” the brunette commented. “The cat comes home, Tara’s suddenly not depressed anymore?”
Buffy pursed her lips pensively. “It’s been a strange morning alright.”
“Hey I can understand it,” Faith continued. “Pussy always cheers me up.”
“Faith!” Buffy shouted, aghast.
Faith chuckled throatily. “You weren’t complaining last night,” she pointed out.
“Last night you weren’t being gross and disgusting.”
“No? What was I being? Tell me,” Faith whispered. Buffy blushed and took a sudden keen interest in the bottom of her coffee mug.
(To be continued)
Awww... what a beautiful ending to this awesome fic. I'm sad that it's over though. 
I'm going to miss it. But, the ending was well worth the wait. Everyone is happy and it ended with our girls kissing. 
Beautiful.
I can kinda picture them together though. Too bad it didn't end with a double wedding. That would have been lovely. 
So touching. 
at: 9/23/02 12:46:08 am
sniff.
's silly nose in meetings, so I wouldn't be there for long. Anyway, ME couldn't afford me 
thanks. One point about the wedding: it's often more fun going to other people's than your own. I have a little experience in these matters.
. And I'm so glad it changed in a happy place, Not in the angry rant thread. 
at: 9/24/02 4:52:55 pm
