Shadows And Light
Author: The Divine Princess Fuchsia (divinefuchsia@hotmail.com)
Rating: PG, so far.
Spoilers: Season 4 mainly, some Season 5.
Feedback: Go ahead, but flames wil be used in my Wiccan rituals - yup, I'm of the Willow/Tara persuasion
Distribution: I'd be flattered, but ask first.
Summary: Tara's burgeoning relationship with Willow is disturbed by some painful recollections…
Notes: Don't ask me why I like writing Season 4, I just do. They were so cute when they were all shy of each other…And this is my first (posted) W/T fic, so be gentle with me..
Tara leant forward and touched the flickering match to the candle's wick. The golden flame leapt up and suffused the room in a warm, glowing light, and she breathed in deeply. The fairy lights strung around the room showed up like tiny stars in a black sky and Tara felt relaxed, at peace. She focused on the flame, the world outside her room, her haven, dissolving into nothing. The shimmer of the lights illuminated her face and cast shadows over the graceful planes of her neck and collarbone. Her rough breathing increased as she started to chant ''Earth, Water, Fire Smoke, Aphrodite, I thee invoke'' over and over again. The rose quartz she gripped tightly in her hand began to warm to her touch and glow a dusky pink and, as the spell reached its zenith, the rose buds scattered around the candle began to levitate, hovering inches over the floorboards. Time stood still for a moment after the incantation ended, until Tara released her breath quickly, a smile on her face. Gathering up the petals, she placed them with the crystal in a black velvet pouch which she tied, and lifted to her lips. She squeezed her eyes tight shut and, in her minds eye, saw an image of Willow. The redhead gave a crooked grin, her green eyes sparkling at her friend. Her concentration shattered with a knock at the door, and she hastily tucked the small bag into one of her pockets. She flicked the switch to turn on the light and opened the door. Willow. The redhead gave a crooked grin, her green eyes sparkling at her friend…Tara was so startled at the flesh and blood woman at her door that she barely caught what Willow was saying ''…Irony's kinda ironic that way.'' Tara nodded, and opened the door with a smile.
Willow inhaled, the rose incense sharp and sweet to her senses. ''You did a spell? 'Cause, I wondered if…But we can talk, if you want…'' Tara smiled as her friend paused before she began to babble any further.
''I don't mind, really. But how was your night? What happened with Buffy?''
Willow huffed, angrily. ''Fine, till Riley and his Commando buddies showed up. I was looking forward to some Buffy-time, then she was spirited away by Professor Walsh. But, on the plus side, I'm here with you now.''
Tara blushed crimson, and hoped Willow couldn't hear her pounding heart. ''I...I'm not much of a plus. Especially when you could be hanging out with the Slayer.''
''Hey, that's not true!'' The redhead's face was lit with a warm glow from the candle flames, making her hair look like the Samhain fires. ''I want to be here, I like being Iwith you, hearing all about you. Which you never do, by the way. I go on and on about the Slayer stuff, but you never say anything about you.'' Tara's heart began to race again. Oh Goddess, she thought, Anything but this. ''I...It's not that interesting, really.'' In the silence that followed, Willow looked at her. In the darkened room, their eyes met. ''Yes it is. It's you.'' With a deep breath, she started, knowing that some things would have to be left unsaid.
'' My…my mom died when I was 16. I was pretty much left to care for my Dad and Donny, my brother. I tried to save her but Dad…he said that just made everything worse.'' Her voice was hardly a whisper now, and her lashes were moist with tears. Willow squeezed her hand and put her arm round Tara's shoulders. The action was comforting, and Tara allowed her head to rest on the other girl's shoulders. ''That's awful. How could it be anything to do with you? Sometimes these things just…happen.'' Tara shuddered, and struggled to keep the tide of memories at ebb, prevent them from flooding back and overwhelming her. She would stop her. Why tell this radiant woman, full of light, about the darkness she carried around inside her mind? Why tell her about the beatings, the spells performed in secret, and worse, about Donny…
Part 2
For once in her life, Willow's attention wandered in class. Professor Walsh stood at the front of the lecture theatre, affecting not to notice the love-struck glances Buffy and Riley were exchanging. It was a matter of weeks since the Slayer had berated their stern Pysch professor for her insensitivity over Oz's departure, yet for all Willow cared, it could have been years. Perhaps her exception wasn't quite so exceptional, after all…In her dry, clipped tones, the older woman analysed…well, whatever it is she was analysing. Something about public displays of affection - in the seat next to her, Buffy had turned strawberry-pink as the steel-gray eyes of Professor Walsh bored into hers and Riley was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. The expression on her face indicated that she had a very good idea of exactly what those two had been doing the night before, to leave them so tired and distracted…But Willow's thoughts kept wandering to Tara, at the hurt, troubled look in the girl's beautiful eyes when she had spoke of her family the night before. How could anyone do that to her? She's so sweet and gentle. How could she ever use magic to hurt people? She's a good person, a special person…
''...How many of you would have a problem with that? Would it unnerve you, Willow?'' With a jolt, the redhead realised that the Professor's eye's were focused on her, and she stammered out a response,
''I…I'm sorry Professor Walsh? I didn't quite catch that.''
Walsh heaved an irritated sigh, puzzled at her usually exemplary student's lapse in concentration.
''If it were a same-sex couple displaying their affection in public. Would that bother you, Miss Rosenberg? Or would you be too busy day-dreaming to notice?'' Willow felt twitchy, for a reason she couldn't entirely pin down. Why did she ask me? she thought, her mind racing. Do I look homophobic? Oh god, does Walsh think I'm gay? ''Um…Well…No! Not at all. I'm very tolerant. People can…snuggle...if they want to, in public. Who cares if it's girl-girl? Or…or boy-boy for that matter. I don't mind at all. Not that I'm…well…y'know. But I'm liberal.'' Buffy had taken her eyes off lover-boy for a moment and looked at her in confusion, before turning back and going all goo-goo eyed at Riley again. She wilted under the gaze of her Professor, who shot her a thoughtful look before resuming her lecture. Oh goddess! Why did I babble? And why did I spaz out suddenly? Ok, I should have been concentrating, not thinking of Tara, but still…Thinking of Tara. More precisely, thinking what a beautiful, special person she was. Hang on - did I think beautiful? I don't think so. So why am I thinking it now? All thoughts of the class banished from her mind, she sank into a dizzying whirl of confusion, through which a perplexed and all-too-familiar voice spoke, ''…and I think I'm kinda gay…''
Curled up on her bedspread, Tara wiped away tears as they splashed down onto the photographs she clutched desperately. Her body convulsed as she sobbed gently, and tears made slick, salty trails down the top picture. A happy, smiling blonde woman held the hand of a younger Tara as they grinned into the camera one hot summer's day a couple of years ago. Tara's Mom looked pale and thin, but relaxed, and Tara was chubbier than now, clinging to her mother and looking shyly into the lens. Such a happy time…That was before her mother died, before all the bad stuff started to happen. But even then, the shadow of her father threatened to spoil everything. A memory surfaced…The smell of burning sage was sweet in the air, and candles flickered gently, lighting the small room. A fifteen-year old Tara sitting in the sacred circle, her eyes closed and her focus intense. A tiny wax model, moulded in the shape of a woman on the altar. Energy, so much energy…And then the altar crashed to the ground, the candles snuffed out, it seemed, by the icy hatred on her fathers face. Witch. Demon. Can't you see what you're doing to your mother? I warned you. I told you what would happen if I caught you doing this again…
Part 3
Willow sat on her bed, holding the Doll's Eye crystal in her hand. Last night, Tara had looked at her with so much pleading in her eyes, craving to be accepted by Willow. It was the least I could do…She had spent the whole night with Tara, just talking, meditating, sometimes just sitting in silence, drinking in the other girl's presence. But last night…feeling Tara's warmth against her, breathing in her scent. Orange and vanilla. That's what she smells of. Sometimes I'm on campus and I could swear she's about. Just that scent. And I turn, but there's nothing there. The disappointment…she's a friend. Just a friend. The light from the sun hit the crystal, and purple rays slanted across the room, and Willow flopped back onto her bed, sighing in confusion.
As Tara's pen scratched across the paper, she struggled to maintain her composure. The memories she had been revisiting earlier in the day were growing too much for her. Too painful for her to deal with right now. She looked up as the Greek professor droned on, and she fought back the urge to doze off. She copied down the incantation and briefly mused how cool it was that she could actually study this stuff in class, and her thoughts wandered back to Willow and the magick they had cast the night before. The room had been filled with light and warmth, as much from her friend's presence as from their spells. I don't understand. How can this be evil? Doing this, being with her. It doesn't feel wrong…The memory of her father's reaction to her spells hurt almost as much as when he had struck her. The object of punishment in this case had been her wand, a stick of willow with runes carved on, picked up by her mother during a walk in the woods. The fact that it was this he used was worse than the slashes at her skin, the stinging pain from the beating. The wand was sacred, both because of it's ritual use and because of her mother. It was never designed to cause harm…Yet it did, wielded in the wrong hands. Was it possible that her powers, too, could hurt like that? Tara knew full well that it was not Wicca itself that was to blame for the demon inside her, the one that prompted her to challenge her father and called out to her that she needed to express herself magickally, sexually…But could her involvement lead to the suffering of those she loved? Her mother…Willow. Could it…Could I be hurting her without even knowing it? Drawing her to that dark place I have in my dreams, corrupting her, taking all the light away…If is ever seduced by the dark magicks, I'll know it's because of me. And I couldn't bear that, to see her destroying herself because of where I took her…There was a tiny voice in the back of her mind that questioned this demon. That saw her mother as she was dying, and saw her surrounded by light. The demon killed her, her father had said. The demon called the cancer in. But she had gone so quietly. And wasn't death a release? Rescuing her from this downtrodden life with a husband and son who trained her like an animal, using their fists and whatever else they could find, to tame her. But they didn't succeed, did they, Momma? But why did you have to go? I can't face this all alone. I don't know who I am, what's to come. And that frightens me, Momma. Willow…she's good. A good person. A white witch. And she's had a boyfriend…why would she even…But she's good, there's so much love in there. Maybe she can be the one to save me, to drive all this darkness out. Maybe she'll be my salvation, just like you were once. Just like you said Daddy was for you…
Class ended, and Tara drifted out in a daze. Her head full of sad thoughts, they clouded her vision and she felt as if she were walking through fog. She barely noticed as she rounded a corner and collided with a lecturer carrying a pile of Psychology textbooks. Startled out of her reverie, she mumbled an apology to the older woman and thrust the fallen books back at her. She received an angry glare in response. Blushing furiously, and barely able to stammer another ''I'm sorry'', her head snapped up as she hear the woman call a familiar name.
''Miss Rosenberg! May I speak to you for a moment?''
''Professor Walsh?''
''It's about your assignment. I was very pleased. Could you prepare a presentation for our next class?''
As the redhead nodded in dubious assent, her eyes met Tara's and a jolt of excitement ran through her. ''Hey!'' she mouthed, grinning insanely, all but oblivious of the Professor's presence now. Calling a goodbye, she ran to join her friend, trying not to over-analyse the thumping of her heart or the quickening of her breath as she caught Tara's hand in a welcome greeting.
Maggie Walsh walked off, trying to hide her smile. There are some things that cannot be hidden from those who spend their time in detailed study of human behaviour, and the first flutterings of a crush is one of them. That would explain her reaction the other day, then, she mused. Young love…And she swerved, hastily, to avoid what was to her an irritatingly familiar couple, very nearly coupling in the hallways…
Part 4
They sat in the circle, the two witches, their palms touching and their eyes closed. Peace filled the room, and there was no space for their earlier doubts. The flames of the candles streamed towards the black ceiling and the energy in the circle was powerful. As rose petals scattered around them, floating downwards, their minds were perfectly in synch, working as one. The candlelight flickered over the crystal between them, and the deflowered rose fell to the ground. Two pairs of eyes snapped open, two mouths gasping for air.
''That was…''
''Yeah. Better and better every time.'' Willow blushed as the implications of her sentence sank in. Stupid, stupid Willow! Now what's she going to think - you're some sort of lezzo? Which you're not at all, no siree. Driving stick for you, that's right. Straight as the proverbial die. Which actually has edges and curves…Tara has curves…nice curves…No, BAD thoughts, Willow. The girlfriend - EX-girlfriend - of Daniel Osbourne does not have these thoughts. Much. Except with Faith, but she was evil. So - evil thoughts. That works…right?
The last of the rose petals settled on Tara's golden hair. Her tranquillity in the silence and peace of the circle enthralled Willow, and none of her misgivings were strong enough to silence the call she felt within her, drawing her to Tara like a moth to a flame. There was still something of the troubled girl of the night before, lurking away at the core of this exquisite woman, but Willow was almost blinded by the beauty before her. Nothing of her pain and confusion, the pull of her conservative upbringing and the critical voice of the person she had thought she was could survive for long here. Tara gazed at the flame-haired girl, her pale cheeks still flushed. She bit her lip unconsciously as she mused how beautiful Willow was. She's everything I'm not, everything I can never be…But when I'm around her, I can be the person I long to be, not damaged Tara Maclay, not the latest of a long line of women who cannot escape their destructive natures…With her I'm surrounded in love, she can keep the blackness out. Sometimes I think I can never be free of it, but then I look deep into her eyes and see only goodness and purity. I could drown in those eyes, those deep wells of green. I want nothing more but to crawl inside her skin, where I can be safe at last, protected from all the darkness. In Willow, nothing could be demonic for very long. I feel that whatever I do, wherever I go, she will always find me. But how could she love who I really am, deep inside. Maybe all that searing, pure white light that radiates from her can burn out my evil at long last. How could I be anything but good with her? If she wants me. Oh, Goddess let her want me…
In the centre of the circle, the Doll's Eye crystal glowed…
Willow sat in her room and stared blankly at the wall. It's all changed, she thought to herself. I left home shy Willow Rosenberg, OK, so amateur Wiccan with a guitarist boyfriend, but nothing special. Now I'm…what? Who? Not an amateur any more, that's for certain. Yes, I'm floating something bigger than a pencil, no doubt about that. I'm experimenting with magicks I never imagined I could cope with, feeling it's power coursing through my veins. I'm doing things I never dreamt of before. And some things I did dream of, but I was just too ashamed to admit it. Tara. This is all new, these girl-girl feelings. Weird, but in a good, exciting way. Just what Buffy always used to say about Angel. I feel so alive when I'm around her, as though I'm invincible. Well, I guess Buffy probably did feel pretty alive around Angel. Kinda hard not to, given the whole walking undead scenario. It's just…I wish I could talk to someone about it. I mean, this is big stuff, y'know? I mean, REALLY talk to. Mom would just put it down to curiosity, experimentation because, after all, ''This is college. It's perfectly normal and healthy to want to try new things.'' God, she kept repeating that over and over again before I left, and I never really understood what she meant until now. Maybe she was just trying to tell me something…Would it have been any easier now if I'd understood then? I doubt it. I think I'd have freaked and, well, who can blame me? But with Tara it's not freaky. It's just…nice. I wonder how she dealt with it all. Assuming she is, God, what if I've read the signals all wrong? I could lose her forever, and I couldn't bear that. She's like oxygen now, I need her. And it's a need that frightens me. Oz was an identity thing. ''Oh, look at me, I have a cool boyfriend.'' He was wonderful, and I cared so much about him, but in the end it all came down to me. I was trying to validate myself as a person through him. And then, he left and I realised I was at least partly faking being that person. Now, I still don't know who Willow Rosenberg is. But Tara seems to like her…If I spoke to Mom about Tara, she'd only try and analyse things down to every last detail. Make it dry and lifeless, like a butterfly pinned to a board for inspection. That way, her darling girl, her little social experiment, can never FEEL anything, never take joy in a moment instinctively, without questioning why. I wonder, are all psychologists control freaks? It's something I've inherited from her, sure, but now I'm all out of control and…I'm loving every last minute. Maybe something of Vampire Willow rubbed off on me. Not in an icky way though…Ewwww.
Part 5
The dreams never left Tara, not even in the harsh light of day, not really. If she so much as closed her eyes, she was back there, bruised and bleeding. Her father's cruel smile, and Donny's leering, mocking gaze. Hands that grabbed her hair, leaving blonde strands within calloused fingers. Hands that struck her if she stuttered, when her fear made speech impossible. The heavy tread of Donny's boots outside her room, the creaking of her door and the look on her father's face the morning after, pretending not to know…The guilt, the shame, the dirt that wouldn't rub off no matter how hard she tried. Tainted. She avoided the company of others, fearing this sickness to be contagious. Believing that no-one could help her, and wouldn't want to if they were ale to. Why help this twisted thing, her evil all of her own making, all her own fault, just like they said. Because they were right, Donny and her father. Always right. She had to be kept in line for her own good, and if she made them do things…All my fault. I did this to them…Even with Willow, the thought always nagged at the back of her head, If she knew…if she knew…she'd HATE me. Willow's warmth and light soothed her, calmed her restless spirit and quieted the voices running around inside her skull. For the first time in so many, many years - too many - she felt loved, as though she could be good, underneath all this evil. But Goddess, just give me the chance. Don't make me tell her too soon…Despite all the wonder in her new-found friendship, the shadow still hung over her, never quite dispelled. Willow was a demon-fighter and Tara was…I'm disgusting. How could she love a thing like me? A thing so corrupt that I pretend to be what I'm not. The more time passed, the more Tara was afraid that her inner self would burst through, through all the peace and the love, all that was Tara Maclay, and destroy everything that she had so painstakingly, so timorously, built. I'm buying time. That's all I need, to make the wickedness go away.
Her heart thumped so loud in her chest that surely Willow must hear it, surely she would guess that all was not as it should be. Oh God, not now. Not so soon. Don't make me lose her. Oh Goddess, Momma, don't let me lose her now. Oh, Willow, forgive me. Forgive me for what I am about to do. I'm doing it for you, Willow, for us, for what we could have between us. Someday you'll understand…Understand that only you can save me…
Just a little more time…And, feeling sick with her sense of double betrayal, Tara tossed the shiny powder under the bed, so that only a mere film of residue was left on her hands.