Title: Order
Disclaimer: All Characters, etc. belong to Joss, i don't own anything, the usual
Rating: PG for now, I think
Feedback: Yes please! I'd love to know what you think, if there's any point of me continuing, or if you don't like something. If you think "there is no way (insert a character's name, eg. Willow) would do this", then please tell me, otherwise I will probably make that mistake often.
Spoilers: Up to and including Season Six
Summary: Willow's struggle after Tara leaves
Notes: Originally this fic was going to be not much longer than drabble, as you can tell the first paragraph is set to resemble pretty much that, just a take on Willow's thoughts with a bunch of similies thrown in. However it grew in my mind, and it's still growing, developing. If anyone knows how I can get a betta or someone to help me with that, i would very much appriciate it.
Order. Like glass it’s beautiful, clear and collected, but as stable as it appears, it can’t take strain. It’s fragile. In the end, it shatters, destructs and finally descends into chaos, shards flying everywhere cutting and breaking everything in it’s path. At the moment that consisted of Willow’s mind and heart. At least that’s how she felt the night Tara picked up the stacked boxes of clothing and walked out of the Summers household. Her brain would usually work overtime organizing every situation…no, every aspect of every situation into little categories. For example, the fight they had about magic at the Bronze. Tara was yelling. Bad. Tara still loved her. Good. Tara walking off. Bad. Tara had returned home. Good. That was simple. That was steady because Tara was still there. Tara made her steady. And now Tara was gone and all the control, all the order, all the categorization, all organization has fled Willow’s life.
Chaos descended, and at first Willow would…could do nothing more than stare into the vast emptiness before her. The mess in her mind was so big, so dirty that she could not see past it, nor could she make out the details. There was just too much and it was all too dark. The mess was too hard to organize and there was no incentive to organize it either. So Willow, unable to use her primary source of function, her mind, had to use the secondary source: her magics.
Yet magics proved to create even more chaos, and with every spell Willow got just a little more lost, her mind becoming just a little more messy and her hold on boundaries…quiet a lot more loose. It was that final fateful night that the loss of mental control lapsed into that of the physical in a form of a car crash, which not only endangered her, but the young girl she had come to almost call her little sister; Dawn.
She had begged and pleaded for the Dawn’s forgiveness but no avail, she knew then she had pulled the last straw. It was as if her ignorance of boundaries had finally crashed down upon her and trapped her outside that line beyond which boundaries applied. It was that line that literally caused her fall, however being in the physical world it was shaped in a more realistic form of a curb. And when she stumbled over the curb, crying out to Buffy, she realized how crossing the line did not fix things but rather caused them to fall.
For days she sat in her room, ashen, lost, broken. Unable to even use her stored magics to create the artificial comfort of Tara’s magically conjured arms around her. She walked over to the box, which still sat forlornly in the corner of their room, or rather just her room now, and pulled out one of Tara’s worn sweaters. It was a faded blue with thinned edged at which Tara would tug when she was nervous, causing the cotton fibers to stretch and thin. She lifted the soft fabric to her face and rubbed it along her cheek, trying to draw in what was left of Tara’s essence. She curled herself around the item of clothing before drifting into a restless sleep, where she would revisit the happier memories of their relationship, which would inevitably transform into something nightmarish.
She was sitting with Tara on the dewy grass, basking in the warmth of her girlfriend and the soft glow of the setting sun. Their classes were long over but instead of heading back to help the Scoobies the two decided to enjoy some quiet alone time together. With all the chaos back at the Magic Shop, weapons sharpened, research gathered, and general impending doom being pondered upon after another visit from Glory, Willow felt the need to take a break and step out of the morbid reality where yet another apocalypse was headed their way. So she suggested to Tara that instead of going to the Magic Box they should just take some time for themselves, to which Tara was more than happy to oblige.
She felt Tara leaning deeper into her embrace, as she settled back against the tree that was holding her upright. Looking down at the blonde sitting between her legs Willow smiled against Tara’s hair pressing a soft kiss to the back of her head. She sighed contently, enjoying the moment of peace.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” She heard Tara ask in reference to the sunset.
Looking down once again, Willow smirked “Never as beautiful as you”
That line has been used many a times by both, and while they knew how cheesy it has become by that point, neither were willing to let it go, because they felt that it captured their private philosophy: That to each, there was no one, no thing out there that was as beautiful as the other.
Tara twisted around in Willow’s arms, placing a chaste kiss on the smaller girl’s lips, and gazing deeply into her eyes. They stayed like that for seconds, minutes, maybe hours…Willow couldn’t tell, so lost she had become in the eyes of her love. Small drops of rain broke her out of their reverie. Only it wasn’t rain. It was crimson and thicker than water; it was blood. She looked up, hoping to see the source of the bleeding but there was nothing above her but a deep black abyss. She looked to Tara for help but the blonde was slumped in her arms. Her eyes however mirrored the abyss, deep pools of black, except on closer inspection they weren’t black but such a dark red that it appeared black. And the only way Willow had come to see that was through the seeping of the deep red liquid from Tara’s eyes, making it appear as if she were crying blood. Willow screamed but dared not drop her lover. She didn’t have to really, as a moment later Tara was standing upright over Willow, letting her crimson tears fall from her eyes and land on Willow’s cheeks.
“You should be crying Willow, after all, you caused this…WHERE’S YOUR REGRET, WHERE’S YOUR PENANCE…YOU DESERVE TO PAY”
Tara’s face was twisted in fury as she lunged at Willow.
And then Willow would wake up. She didn’t know if it was such a good thing though. Perhaps if Tara really had hurt Willow, even in her dreams, it would somehow compensate for at least a fraction of the damage she caused. Pain, it seemed, was the only retribution. Perhaps though, it was because of Dream Tara’s final words that she believed that. After all, throughout the duration of their relationship Tara seemed to be the wise one, her advice never failing to be anything but profound and virtuous. But then Willow would always wonder why she never did listen to Tara’s advice about going easy on the magic. Because she was addicted of course. Because her addiction became primal, like a need to feed or drink. It outweighed rationality. However Willow did not feel that it was a worthwhile justification, because she believed her need for Tara was more primal. She needed Tara more than food or water. More than magic. And that’s when the wave crashed. If she needed Tara more than magic, then why let her go. Why choose magic over the her...
Groaning Willow slowly crawled out of bed. Walking up to the dresser she stared at her reflection. Her complexion was pallid, her lips were chapped and her eyes bore dark circles around them. Her appearance left much to be desired, but since Tara’s departure Willow felt little need to pay it any attention. Little daily routines such as applying moisturizer or styling her hair had become unnecessary and proved to be too great of challenge for which she did not care.
She could smell pancakes and burnt toast for the scent was so strong that it wafted up the stairs. Buffy’s cooking, she absently thought.
She made her way downstairs, almost knocking the mighty slayer off her feet. Buffy was swamped with plates filled with pancakes, toast, cereals and a couple of glasses filled with various kinds of juice, causing her to be considerably off balance and ready to topple at the slightest change of wind.
“Whoa Buff, feeding an army?”
“No. Just a certain redhead.”
“Ah, well Nicole Kidman is in Australia I think, so those pancakes will be mighty stale before you can even book a flight”
“Oh no with this new phone…Uh, so not the point.” She shook her head before continuing, almost dropping a glass in the process.
“Willow, you have barely eaten since…” She paused unsure whether bringing up Tara would make Willow shatter. The girl looked more fragile than her mother’s good crystal.
However before she could decide how to finish her sentence, Willow interrupted. “ I appreciate all this, I really do Buffy but I’m not hungry”
She lowered her voice before continuing.” And I don’t deserve any of this.”
“Don’t deserve? Willow, you made a mistake, a mistake that you are working hard to fix. You are entitled to make wrong choices, go down the wrong path. Hell, how many times have I ventured off the rails? What makes those who are good different to those who aren’t is that those who are good try and repair the damage and you’re doing just that. You’re being human, and that’s the best anyone can do.”
Willow smiled at Buffy’s impromptu pep talk. “Thanks Buffy.”
“Anytime. Now Apple, Orange or Grape juice? You gotta pick one coz I’m about to drop it all.”
Willow grabbed the orange juice and a couple of plates, setting them down on the table.
After she helped Buffy set the rest of the food safely on the table, both women sat down.
“So what are you planning to do today?”
“I..I don’t know. I guess I could attempt to catch up on the mountain of assignments I hadn’t yet touched. Or there’s also the mad amount of groveling for forgiveness which I still have to do. And then there’s the daily struggle with urges to do magic which take up all of my energy to fight off.”
“It will get easier. You’ll be on top of that schoolwork in no time. Your urges will become more and more seldom and people will forgive in time. Dawn can’t keep a grudge for longer than two weeks.”
“And Tara?”
Buffy bit her lip. She wanted so badly to tell her friend that Tara will come back, that things would go back to the way they were between the two wiccans. But Buffy wasn’t sure.
“Tara loves you”
Willow turned around to face the source of the voice. It was Dawn. The young girl stood at the bottom of the stairs in her Groovy Girl pajamas with a small smile on her face.
“Dawn…I…” Willow began, but she wasn’t sure how to continue.
“No Willow, it’s ok. I’ve forgiven you. Tara has too. It’s just…it’s not just about forgiveness or love. It’s about trust. And right now you need to make her see that she can trust you again. And it might take some time, it’s not something you can force, but it will happen. I know it. You two are just meant to be.”
Willow smiled, for what may have been the first time in a month. Tara still loved her. Tara loved her.
“When did you become so smart?” She playfully asked the teen.
“Oh you know, just when you and Tara were busy doing all those “spells”.” She smirked emphasizing the last word by making quote marks in the air with her fingers.
Willow eyes bulged, and she blushed ten various shades of red, before soundlessly opening and closing her mouth like a fish. Finally realizing that there was no way to retaliate that comment, she settled for throwing Dawn a smirk.
TBC, if anyone wants
