Unexpected stowaway...um Xander then he can get some closure about his parents.
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“I…I love you. I just…I just don’t want to be afraid anymore. I want to feel like I am living again.” Legends of the kiss by Mariacomet
by Puff » Wed Jan 23, 2002 9:32 pm
Unexpected stowaway...um Xander then he can get some closure about his parents.
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“I…I love you. I just…I just don’t want to be afraid anymore. I want to feel like I am living again.” Legends of the kiss by Mariacomet
by Sassette » Thu Jan 24, 2002 1:45 am
Title: Answering Darkness Part 23 - Support
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to pink_overalls@yahoo.com
Summary: Tara packs some things and takes off
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 this seems the fastest way to get a reconciliation and because I feel this is one of the possible outcomes when taking the "addiction" metaphor into account. So, I should shut the heck up now, and just get to the story, right? Right.
Answering Darkness Part 23
In loving memory of Grandma Mary Ellen, who dedicated her life to helping other alcoholics on their road to recovery.
http://www.alcoholics-anonymous.org/
Support
By Sassette
Willow watched the shadows deepen from her seat on her parents' porch. Her slim body was wrapped up in a heavy blanket, shivers wracking her frame at odds with the light sheen of sweat upon her skin. A cold chill enveloped her, and her fist tightened and released convulsively around the flyer in her hand.
Only yesterday - how could it only be yesterday? - she had sat just like this on a park bench until the night and the demon had come for her. And, she knew, it would come for her again.
She should have felt safe, there on her parents' porch, surrounded by the familiar. At one point in her life, she remembered vaguely feeling like her parents would always protect her, and make her problems go away. That was before she had learned that her problems were her own, and no one could help her with them.
They hadn't understood, or maybe hadn't wanted to understand, the isolation of being brilliant - of being different. They had only taken this for granted, and given her an autonomy that required she use that intellect to take care of herself. Was that why she had such a hard time with this addiction now? She couldn't be sure, but it made sense in a purely logical sort of way - that she had been expected, because of her innate intelligence, to never falter or fail.
And she hadn't, until now.
At one time, she had felt sorry for the average Sunnydale resident. They walked along, blissfully unaware of the dangers of living on a Hellmouth. Blissfully unaware, in fact, of the very existence of a Hellmouth. But not her, no. Not Willow Rosenberg. She knew, and she fought.
There was some measure of comfort and control in the knowing. If she was only strong enough, and smart enough, and brave enough, the world wouldn't end. It was up to her, and not the vagaries of fate. Prophecies were discovered and unmade, apocalypses averted, and demons slain, all with her knowledge and assistance.
Then the unthinkable had happened. Buffy died. There was no slayer on the Hellmouth, and then it had truly been up to Willow. She had known her role as slayer support, and fulfilled it, and they had always won. But then the heavy mantle of leadership had fallen to Willow, and the world still needed saving. So she had dug a little deeper, tried a little harder, and led the Scoobies to more victories.
But at a price.
And now she didn't feel sorry for the average Sunnydale resident. She envied them. They went about their lives, concentrating on living instead of the impending doom. They took no risks, they paid no price, and at the end of the day, they slept soundly in their beds.
She, Willow Rosenberg, couldn't save the world. She couldn't even save herself.
Now she stood at the bottom of a pit, with slippery icky slimy walls. Everything she truly wanted was at the top. Her friends. Tara. College. Tara. Freedom. Tara.
Except power. Power was there with her in the pit. Power >was< the pit. From the bottom, she could incinerate demons with a word. She could keep her loved ones safe. She could feel in control.
The only thing she couldn't do, was leave.
Is that what she really wanted? To drag her friends into this pit, wrap them in wool, and keep them safe from the world? On one level, yes. But did she have the right to do it? Take away their freedom and give them security? No. A thousand times, no.
A sick feeling twisted her stomach, and she gagged, her empty stomach heaving, but nothing coming up. She had done that and more. Her need to control her surroundings had made her take away Tara's freedom, in exchange for her own security. Not for Tara, but for Willow. And it made her sick just to think about it.
What had she done? What had her - her hubris cost her?
Everything.
Dear God, it had cost her everything.
Except, somehow, it hadn't cost her a second chance. Her friends, even now, were standing around the pit, asking her to come out. Xander had even remembered to bring a rope, she thought with a humorless laugh, feeling the crinkly edges of the wrinkled paper against her palm and fingers.
What had made her think that might made right? That because she had the power to do something, she should?
She didn't know.
The whole world was a shadow now, the moonless night only interrupted by the occasional sprinkling of stars and the harsh orange light of a streetlamp. Night had fallen, and it had brought friends.
The dead were walking, right now, Willow knew. Demons and constructs and horrible things lived were out there.
But she had somewhere to be, and dammit, she was going to go, and no stupid demon or whatever was going to stop her.
"Let me just get changed," she said into the night, rising to her feet. She shuffled into the house, her blanket wrapped around her, the flyer still clutched in her hand.
She emerged again, and hour later, fresh from the shower, but still feeling shaky. She took the first step, off the familiar porch, then another, down the drive. Each subsequent step carried her along her path, taking her closer to what, in the metaphoric sense, would be her first step in her fight against the magic that controlled her.
The community center came into view all too soon, and her steps faltered. "The newness of the people," she muttered under her breath, edging a few steps closer, then taking a step back.
"Well, don't you look like hell? And I'd know," Spike said, stepping into the orange light.
"What are you doing here?" Willow asked, her voice growly and rough.
Spike scowled, and moved to sit next to her, Willow automatically scooting aside to make room. "Well, rumor has it that you have a meeting to attend," Spike said slowly. "And as your friends love you, they wanted someone to make sure you got there safe."
"Why you?" Willow asked, frowning. It would be so much easier if Buffy and Xander - and God, Tara … wouldn't it be nice if Tara showed up? - walked up right now and told her she was going. She would, too. If any of them came to her, they'd just march her inside, and she wouldn't have to decide.
"Because it has to be your choice, or so they said," Spike said, scowl firmly in place as he took a drag of his cigarette. "And as I don't give a damn one way or the other, they figured I was the 'no pressure' choice of escorts."
"Why do you do this?" Willow asked suddenly. "I mean, I know we keep you in money and blood and all that, but you hate us, y'know? I mean, you said so a million times, and I know you have a thing for Buffy, but why do you keep helping? Why do you keep showing up and running errands and being all - nice. And stuff," Willow trailed off lamely.
"Love makes you do crazy things, Red," Spike said slowly, his eyes pinned to the red glow at the tip of his cigarette. He watched the smoke drift into the air, making a lazy pattern, then disappearing. "It's like … I'm a vampire. Big Bad and all that. You - you're this smoke, you see? Full of sound and fury and signifying nothing."
"Shakespeare," Willow said, a delighted smile on her face. "Except I'm not loving the comparison," she went on, a frown setting on her features.
"Nothing personal, Red," Spike said with a smirk, amusement glinting in his eyes. "All you humans are. You're here such a short time. You have these whirlwind lives that leave this pretty pattern, and then - poof. Gone."
"I'm not seeing your point."
"Nevermind," Spike said, standing, and dropping the cigarette to the steps. He stepped on it, grinding out the fire with the toe of his boot. "I guess I'm just feeling pensive tonight."
"All self-analyzing-y?" Willow asked. "Me too."
"Well," Spike said, clearing his throat. "You going to this meeting, or can I go pick a fight with something?"
"Do you ever… ?" Willow began, only to stop. Spike looked on, expectantly.
"What?" he asked.
"Do you ever," Willow began again, gathering her thoughts. "I dunno. Do you ever just wonder - what's the point? Like, why do we put ourselves through this? Why do our friends even bother with us?"
Despite the vague question, Spike somehow knew what she meant. "Let me tell you something, Red. Life and friendships … it's all about what people can do for you. Your friends want something from you, and that's why they bother."
"Well, that's cynical," Willow complained.
"No, it's not," Spike said. "Because the best thing you can do for a person - what your friends want from you - is to love and to be loved. You're doing a shit job at both right now, and frankly, I think you're a nutter, throwing away a great girl like Tara."
"What?" Willow said, rising to her feet. "She left me," Willow shouted.
"No, you pushed her away," Spike said bluntly. "And you bloody well know it. And I know it. And you know I know it, so don't bother lying to me. You're a terrible liar anyway."
"God, I am such an idiot," Willow said, flopping back down and resting her head in her hands, the flyer dropping to the ground.
"Question is, now that you know what an idiot you are, are you going to continue being an idiot, or fix it?" Spike asked, picking up the flyer and shoving it at her.
"I thought you didn't care either way," Willow said slowly, taking the flyer and looking at it closely.
"I don't," Spike said, his voice curt. "I'm a big mean evil bad vampire, who is doing this as a favor for Buffy, because I want to get into her pants. Now will you stop questioning my motives, because I think they're pretty bloody clear, and choose."
Willow nodded, a slight smile on her face at Spike's agitation. As far as soulless vampires went, Spike wasn't all that bad. At least he was honest, which was more than she could say for herself right now.
"All right," Willow said, walking quickly to the door before she changed her mind. She stopped, then looked over her shoulder, seeing Spike standing just a few inches away.
"What? I figure I might as well go in and get warm, since I'll be walking you back," Spike said, his voice indignant. "And don't think you can tell me to take off, because I'm not going to lurk in the parking lot like a spooky vampire until you're done, so get used to it," he finished impatiently.
Willow merely nodded, and then opened the door.
She walked in, looking around the unfamiliar room, at all the unfamiliar faces, and hesitated. There were chairs set up, and a lectern, and a little table with coffee and snacks. It looked friendly enough - almost like a Scooby meeting. Only with alcoholics.
She stepped further into the room, looking about uncertainly as the other people mingled before the meeting started. She glanced at her watch, noting that things were due to start in about ten minutes. She scanned the seat, wondering if she should sit up front. She always did in class, but was this like a class? Oh, God, should she have brought a notebook? Pens?
"Hello," a kind voice attached to a kinder face said at her elbow. "You two are new," the old woman said, her brown eyes smiling at them. "Come in, come in. I know it's a little intimidating at first, but you're free to just up and leave any time," she went on.
"I'm … I'm not really sure …" Willow began slowly.
"What to expect?" the woman asked. "I'm Mary Ellen," she said, extending her hand.
"Willow," Willow said, taking the offered hand.
"Pretty name," Mary Ellen said. "Is this your boyfriend?" she asked with a smile that could only be called 'wicked'. "He's certainly handsome."
Spike let his annoyance at the boyfriend question slide, puffing up with pride at the woman's assessment of his dashing good looks. "I'm Spike, and I'm just a … friend," he said. Sure, friend was stretching it a bit, but he couldn't really explain that he was a vampire doing a favor for the slayer by escorting her pet witch to an AA meeting.
"Oh, yeah," Willow said, snapping out of her daze. "Definitely not a boyfriend. SO not a boyfriend," she said.
"She came!" an excited voice yelled from the corner, followed quickly by the rushing form of Dawn, racing over and giving Willow a great big hug.
"Of course she did," Buffy said, following at a more sedate pace behind her sister. When Dawn finally let go of a shocked Willow, Buffy pulled the redhead into a hug and whispered, "I knew you would. I knew you were strong enough."
Mary Ellen beamed at the group of young people. They had come in earlier, saying their friend might be attending the meeting, and wanted to know if they could stay to show their support. It always warmed her when loved ones cared enough to help. And in this specific case, with Willow Rosenberg, she knew a great deal of help would be needed.
"Where? How did - ? What are -?" Willow said, returning the hug weakly as he shocked brain tried to wrap itself around this new development.
"Add in a who, when and why, and I think we'll have it all covered," Buffy said wryly.
"Colonel Mustard, in the library, with the knife," Xander said, sneaking up behind Willow. She spun around, and Xander looked at her sheepishly, obvious tears welling up in his eyes. "Hey, Wills," he said, hugging his friend close.
"Xander, I -"
"I just thought … I just thought you could use some friendly faces," Xander said, sniffing. "I'm so proud of you."
"But I haven't done -" Willow began to protest.
"No, but you got here," Xander said, pulling back and grasping her shoulders. "That's so much more than so many other people do."
"Umm … Tara didn't …" Willow began to ask.
"She doesn't know you're doing this," Xander said kindly.
"And we can only stay for half the meeting," Dawn piped in.
"You're … you're gonna' go?" Willow asked, her voice trembling.
"It's all right, dear," Mary Ellen broke in, laying a comforting hand on Willow's arm. "We're holding a double meeting tonight. The first one is Open, which means friends and family are allowed to attend. The second is Closed, so it's just the alcoholics. You don't have to stay for the second meeting. In fact, you don't have to stay for this one. If anything makes you feel uncomfortable, or if you feel like this group isn't right for you, you're free to leave at any time."
"Okay," Willow said, nodding. "Do I … do I have to … I don't know, sign in, or something?" she asked.
"No," Mary Ellen said with a smile. "We don't keep track of our members at all. This is completely voluntarily, and anonymous, so there's no pressure. You're always welcome at meetings, whether you come to every single one, or you've been gone for years."
"Thank you," Willow said, a shy smile spreading across her face.
"Oh, now THAT'S pretty," she said, returning the smile.
Willow blushed, then looked around at all of her friends. "Should we -" she began, then stopped, realizing that this was her show. Her friends were here to support her, not do this for her. She had to make her own decisions. "Let's sit down," she said, and the group followed her, finding a row and seating themselves.
The meeting began with little fanfare. An introductory speaker said a few brief words about the purpose and structure of AA, then other speakers were introduced.
They all said the same thing, but Willow was mesmerized. All the speakers, different people, with different backgrounds and experiences, spoke of how their addiction controlled them. They spoke of how the alcohol ruled their lives, interfering with their jobs and families. Different people, with so much in common, stood and told their stories, and it was as if Willow herself was speaking.
They talked about how they felt when they drank: free and powerful when they were, in fact, out of control and weak. Willow knew the feelings. She knew the loss. She knew these people, as if they were related somehow, through their common problems.
Some of the stories were hopeful, full of success and strides. Some were hard to listen to, as people told of the destruction they had brought upon themselves. But all were the same.
One speaker in particular caught Willow's attention. They closed her speech with words she had heard before, though she didn't recall where. When the man started the words, the rest of the room chimed in, saying them in unison.
"God grant me the Serenity, to accept that which I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference," they said, the words seeping into Willow's mind. She mentally tacked on a 'without magic', and felt that the words fit somehow.
The meeting wrapped up, and a hat was passed. Willow looked on, wide-eyed. She >knew< she was supposed to bring something.
"It's voluntary," Xander said, placing a few bills into the hat and passing it down the row. "There aren't any actual dues."
"I still should have brought something," Willow whispered back, frowning.
"You didn't know, Wills," Xander said, standing and stretching as people he noticed other people moving from their seats and starting to mingle.
"I am never touching alcohol," Dawn said, as she, too, rose.
"Good," Buffy said with a satisfied smile.
"That's why you let me come to this on a school night, isn't it?" Dawn said suspiciously.
"Ya' caught me," Buffy said with an unrepentant grin. "How you doing, Will?" Buffy asked, looking down at the seated redhead.
"It's so strange," Willow said slowly. "It's like, they know me. Like they know exactly what's going on in here," she finished, tapping herself on the forehead.
"So you think this could help you?" Buffy asked.
"Yeah, I … I think it just might," Willow said, a smile crossing her face. "I … I feel kinda' … hopeful."
"It was depressing," Spike muttered, his elbows on his knees and his hands loosely clasped. He stared at the floor, not looking up at the Scoobies who glared at him.
"It was not depressing," Xander said slowly.
"Then how come you cried, Mr. Manly?" Spike rejoined.
"Spike," Buffy said in a warning tone. "I'd hate to get dust all over this carpet."
"Oh, sure. You need a favor, it's "Hey, Spike … walk Willow to her meeting,' but I express one opinion, and it's 'I'd hate to get dust on the bleedin' carpet,'" Spike complained, scowling and patting his pockets. "We staying or going?" Spike asked testily, looking at Willow.
"I - I'm not sure," Willow said.
"Just being here was great, Willow. If you want to go home, we'll walk you," Xander said quickly.
"I … I kinda' … I think I want to stay, at least for awhile," Willow said.
"Oh, bloody hell," Spike said, leaning back in his chair and sighing.
"What is your problem?" Buffy asked, glaring at the vampire.
"Oh, like any of you lot can claim a drinking problem. That means I get to stay and make sure Willow gets home safe," Spike mumbled.
"Willow," Mary Ellen said, approaching the group. "You staying?" she asked, curious. "I know it's a lot to take in, but I need to know how many chairs to set up."
Willow looked over at Spike, a question in her eyes. With an annoyed look, Spike nodded grudgingly. "Yes, we're staying."
"So make that two chairs," Spike said dryly.
"Oh, are you …?" Mary Ellen asked.
"Yeah, I got a drinking problem," Spike said sourly.
"It's not required that you stay. This only works if you want it to," Mary Ellen said kindly.
"No, I'll stay," Spike said, a small smile making the corner of his lip twitch when he saw Buffy silently mouth 'Thank you' at him.
"We're really proud of you, Willow," Buffy said, hugging her friend as she, Dawn, and Xander prepared to leave.
"Thank you guys so much for being here. It … this really meant a lot to me," Willow said, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"You know we'd do anything for you, Will. We're just really glad you're taking these steps to help yourself," Xander said, getting his own hug. "But … we need to talk tomorrow. Scooby stuff," he whispered in her ear.
Willow nodded solemnly, noting the serious look on Xander's face.
They said their goodbyes, and Willow stood there, shifting nervously. Now that it was just her - and Spike - she wasn't so sure she could do this. Would she have to introduce herself? Oh, God … would she have to talk about her problem? This was a public place. If she spoke, that would be public speaking. She voted a big 'No' on public speaking.
"Relax," Spike said, as they all moved to the new arrangement of chairs, sitting in a circle in the center of the room.
"I can't relax," Willow whispered. "There's going to be speaking, and I'm new, so they'll want me to talk, and I can't talk in front of people - especially people I don't know, because they're going to think I'm an idiot and I'm not sure what exactly I could say. 'Hi, I'm Willow, and I magic is ruining my life. My girlfriend left me because I cast a spell on her to make her forget we had a fight about how much magic I was using.'"
"They won't force you to talk," Spike said as they sat down. "Just join in if you want to."
This meeting started much like the other one, with a shorter introduction, and then individuals telling their stories. Some were clearly shy and more comfortable talking to the smaller group, and this made Willow feel marginally better.
They went around the circle, some people just introducing themselves, others telling about their difficulties, their decisions to stop drinking, and the little things that had gotten better since they stopped. When the person to Willow's left was through, all eyes turned to her.
"I, uh … my name is Willow," she said, stopping to gather her thoughts. "I … ummm … I have a problem. But you all know about that, really. I've been listening to you all night … well, of course I've been listening all night - it's not like I have cotton in my ears or something," she joked. "But - it's like, you all know exactly what I'm going through. Which, you do, because you're going through it, too. I mean, not the exact - but still the same and I think I'm done now."
The group smiled at her and nodded, politely moving their attention to the next person in the circle as Willow let out a relieved breath. She'd managed to keep it down to minimal babble. As she was congratulating herself, she had the horrid realization that Spike would speak left.
"Name's Spike," he said, scowling at the room. "Been dry about a year," he went on, pausing to acknowledge the congratulations that came from around the room. "I drank for a long time before that, though. It was … everything. It's what I thought of when I woke up, and it's the last thing I did before sleep. I - I couldn't stop. Didn't want to stop. But I did, and why isn't really important, is it?" he asked, a smirk forming.
Willow shifted uncomfortably, the only person in the room who knew what Spike was talking about. Something about the meeting took on a sinister air as Spike continued.
"I used to write poetry, you know," he confided, his lips twitching at Willow's surprised look. "Didn't know that, did you? Well, I fell in love with a girl. Wrote her awful poetry. Just, bloody awful. In fact, that became a little nickname of mine. People called me 'William the Bloody' because I wrote 'bloody bad' poetry," he went on, a self-mocking smile on his face.
Something seemed to buzz in Willow's brain as Spike continued, a little tingling that started off innocently enough, but spread.
"So, this girl wouldn't give me the time of day, you know?" Spike went on. "Too far above me, and all that rot. And the mockery continued. One guy even told me he'd rather have a railroad spike driven through his head than to listen to any more of my poetry," he said with a smile Willow knew well. It was the one he wore right before he was about to bite someone.
It occurred to Willow, that these people were all in danger. There was a vampire in their midst, and they didn't know it. They could be slaughtered like lambs, and it would be just like Spike to give up giving up his 'drinking problem' in a setting like this.
"So I fell in with a bad crowd. We'd go out and drink all night - sleep all day. I met a girl in that group. Dru. She really understood me. She really loved me. But we broke up, and drinking wasn't as much fun without her."
Was Druscilla here? Willow looked around the room, as if expecting the vampire - vampiress? - to step out of thin air and start killing people. Had Spike found Dru again? Did she figure out a way around Spike's chip?
It was certainly possible. And the way Spike was smirking and smiling evilly, as if he had something horrible planned, it seemed even likely. She had to do something. Anything. She couldn't let these people all get killed.
Willow's mind cast around for a plan. She was no match for Spike. There was no way she could take him on, but what else could she do?
Four different spells immediately jumped into her brain, each perfectly capable of ending Spike's unlife and saving these people from his torment.
Mary Ellen rose from her seat silently as Spike continued to talk. She knelt in front of Willow, placing a hand on her arm and rubbing it gently. Willow looked up, her scared panicked eyes looking into Mary Ellen's sad ones.
"He's tricking you. See the truth," Mary Ellen whispered, and Willow jolted out of her reverie. Confused, she looked across the circle, seeing Mary Ellen still sitting in her seat, looking at Spike with a compassionate expression.
A strange noise assaulted her ears, and Willow slowly turned her head, seeing Spike … having a breakthrough?
Willow blinked, then blinked again. Spike was crying. No, Spike was sobbing.
"And - it's like … I've never been good enough," he finished, leaning against the man next to him who patted his back gently. With a final sniff, Spike sat up, wiping at his eyes with the palms of his hands.
Willow sat frozen in her seat. She wasn't sure which was more disturbing - that she had almost given in to her addiction at a meeting she went to for the purpose of helping with her addiction - or Spike bawling.
"Equally disturbing, in different ways," she whispered to herself, wondering what had just happened to her. Spike hadn't been smiling his 'I'm gonna' kill something' smile … he'd been sniffing and crying, and she'd missed most of it. And he was no threat. His chip was firmly in place, and hurting people would have caused him much more pain than it was worth.
So why had she seen things so differently? And had Mary Ellen really crossed the room, or was she going completely insane?
Lost in her thoughts, Willow didn't hear the rest of the meeting, but no one seemed to mind. Numbly, she stood, trying to figure out what had happened. Clearly, something of the mystical Hellmouth variety had just gone on. The Trickster? But why would he want her to kill Spike?
"Willow?" Mary Ellen said as people began filing out the door.
"Huh? Oh! Hi!" Willow greeted, returning to her surroundings.
"I just wanted to give you this," Mary Ellen said, handing over a card. Willow glanced down at it, the words familiar, with a subtle change.
"Goddess grant me the serenity to accept the things I should not change, Courage to change that which I should, and Wisdom to know the difference," Willow said quietly, reading aloud. "That's … that's not the serenity prayer," she pointed out needlessly.
"I know," Mary Ellen said, a mysterious smile crossing her face. "But I think this is a little more appropriate for you, don't you think?"
Willow nodded dumbly, unsure of what to say.
"My phone number is on the back. Call me if you need anything, day or night," Mary Ellen said, before walking off.
Willow stared as Mary Ellen left, a million questions racing through her brain. Mary Ellen certainly didn't seem dangerous - just like, a nice old lady. But appearances could be deceiving on the Hellmouth.
"If you tell anyone … ANYONE … about this," Spike said in an undertone as he tugged her out the door and started walking to Willow's house. "I'll buy a gun and take the pain that comes when I pull the trigger."
by mollyig » Thu Jan 24, 2002 4:34 am
You really got into Willow's psyche there. All the thoughts about how she now envied those who weren't aware of the evil abound. The hole she was digging for herself by abusing the power and thus distancing herself from those who mattered.
Exellent!
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The new Indigo Girls album, "Become You," is in stores Feb. 26, 2002. For
more info, check out Indigo Girls web site at: http://www.indigogirls.com
by Pixie » Thu Jan 24, 2002 9:54 am
by Sassette » Thu Jan 24, 2002 5:39 pm
And Willow had a lot of soul-searching to do - she still does. Tara's got a bit of it to get through as well.
*sigh* God, I'd love to see Spike in an AA meeting crying his eyes out on the actual show.
-Sass
by Italiangirl » Thu Jan 24, 2002 5:55 pm
BTW, I think I would pay money, possibly a lot, to see Spike sobbing like a baby at the meeting - good stuff!
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"You're in my blood like Holy Wine
You taste so bitter, and so sweet
Darling, I could drink a case of you
And still be on my feet;
I would still be on my feet."
-Joni Mitchell
by BytrSuite » Thu Jan 24, 2002 6:20 pm
by Kendahl897 » Thu Jan 24, 2002 6:57 pm
by YuriPup » Thu Jan 24, 2002 10:02 pm
Sass, excellent update as usual. Maybe I was having a slow brain moment, but I had to re-read the section to clue into who the He was in "He is trying to trick you." First time I thought you ment Spike, becuase I can see him playing with an AA meeting to, in his evil vampy way, without killing anyone either.
by Sassette » Thu Jan 24, 2002 10:53 pm
I have the next update all laid out in my head, but I'm >just< starting to write it right now (and my tired brain just had a snicker at my use of the word "laid", so I have no idea how that's going to turn out).
I may stay up and finish it and post it tonight if my rampaging insomnia strikes again. Otherwise, should blissful sleep call to me, you'll all get it tomorrow.
-Sass
by Jae » Fri Jan 25, 2002 1:08 am
by Puff » Fri Jan 25, 2002 10:22 am
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“I…I love you. I just…I just don’t want to be afraid anymore. I want to feel like I am living again.” Legends of the kiss by Mariacomet
by Sassette » Fri Jan 25, 2002 1:05 pm
And I'm really glad you guys liked the meeting bit - it makes me feel less foolish for tackling the whole 'beating the addiction' process, instead of just skipping past it and getting to the good stuff.
-Sass
by Pixie » Sat Jan 26, 2002 7:35 pm
Kittens have patience
No, that is not just a myth
Sassette, must we beg?
by Sassette » Sun Jan 27, 2002 11:51 am
I don't mean to torture you guys - honest, I don't ... I've just had an extremely busy weekend. I've got my first band rehearsal today (I'm in an all-girl house band for a local lesbian bar *g*) and I'm kinda' nervous and haven't had time to finish the next bit.
However - after the rehearsal today, I will chain myself to my desk here and finish up the update ... okay? *G*
-Sass
by ForeverPiper » Sun Jan 27, 2002 12:59 pm
by ForeverPiper » Sun Jan 27, 2002 1:00 pm
by fell » Sun Jan 27, 2002 2:56 pm
quote:
Originally posted by Sassette:
I've got my first band rehearsal today (I'm in an all-girl house band for a local lesbian bar *g*)
-Sass
Hey, sassette, good for you! What do you play, music and instrument-wise? I used to play in bar bands, mostly in pubs in Berkeley and SF, everything from rock and blues to traditional celtic music. I sing and play guitar and some other stuff. A couple of them were all-girl bands, though there was always so much turn-over it was hard to be choosy. (You know- it's 6 o'clock on friday afternoon and your drummer just called from Seattle with some tale of woe.)
You should include a scene in your story set in a lesbian bar. Write what you know, they say.
quote:by Sassette » Tue Jan 29, 2002 1:05 am
For those keeping track - for this band I'll be playing the guitar, the alto saxophone, the harmonica, and singing - but hopefully not all at the same time.
Title: Answering Darkness Part 24 - Tara and Anya's Excellent Adventure
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to pink_overalls@yahoo.com
Summary: Anya catches up with Tara as she is leaving Sunnydale
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 this seems the fastest way to get a reconciliation and because I feel this is one of the possible outcomes when taking the "addiction" metaphor into account. So, I should shut the heck up now, and just get to the story, right? Right.
Answering Darkness Part 24
Tara and Anya's Excellent Adventure
By Sassette
"Tara!" Anya called, running up to the blonde and stopping, bending over, hands on her knees as she gasped for air.
"What is it?" Tara asked, her eyes wide as she turned, the squeegee in her hand flinging water in a wide arc. Anya recoiled, getting a face full of sudsy soapy fun, and spluttering. "Did something happen? Is everyone all right? Willow?" she questioned as Anya wiped her face, a resigned expression settling itself there.
"Well >that< was an auspicious start," Anya muttered. "Everything's fine," she reassured Tara, taking the squeegee from her hand and beginning to industriously clean the last of the strange black substance off the windows of Spike's car.
"I can do that," Tara protested, trying to retrieve her squeegee, only to be pushed aside with a none-too-gentle bump of Anya's hip. "Are you sure everyone's okay?" Tara asked suspiciously, taking a hint and stepping back.
"Yes, everyone's fine. I mean, as far as I know. This IS Sunnydale. They could have all been vamped for all I really know. Except the sun isn't quite down yet, and I'm pretty sure they're all inside."
"Then how come you're here and not at the shop?" Tara asked nervously.
"I closed the shop for the night. For the week, actually," Anya said casually, a frown on her face.
"What? What happened?" Tara asked, visions of demon mayhem wrecking the shop running through her mind.
"Well, Xander found Willow, which is good. Then I told him you were leaving town, so I told him about the possible Trickster angle. Then Dawn called in a panic, because she got a weird message from Giles. Apparently, the Watch-But-Do-Nothing-Even-If-The-World-Is-Ending Council found some kind of prophecy thing hidden in the ravings of a madman, and they're translating it now," Anya explained.
"That still doesn't tell me why you're here," Tara protested. "Or why you closed the shop when there is money to be had."
"Don't," Anya said in a warning tone, waving the squeegee at Tara, "mention the 'm' word."
"Who are you and what have you done with Anya?" Tara deadpanned.
"Shut up and drive, Wicca Girl," Anya scowled, tossing the squeegee and opening the passenger side door of the car. "No taunting me," she insisted, sliding into the seat and slamming the door.
Tara stared, nonplussed. She opened the door and sat behind the wheel, looking over at the ex-demon. "Did … did you need a ride home?" Tara asked curiously.
"Oh, definitely," Anya said. "Xander packed me a bag."
"A bag?" Tara asked, starting the car and pulling it smoothly away from the curb.
"Right. We're going to be gone for at least a few days, right?" Anya asked.
"We? No, no no … " Tara said, shaking her head. ">I< will be gone for at least a few days."
"Oh, but I'm going with you," Anya said innocently. Or, as innocently as she could manage. "Didn't I mention that?"
"No, you did not mention that," Tara said, pulling up to Anya and Xander's apartment.
"There's no way you're going alone," Anya said carefully. "I know you can manage just fine without another Scooby along, but Scoobies stick together," she insisted with an emphatic nod. "Dawn has school, Buffy has slayer duties, Xander has a job, and Willow - well, you're doing this partly to take some time off from her, so that leaves me. Oh - and Spike has that spontaneous combustion problem. And I'm self-employed, so I've already made arrangements to close the shop for the week."
"But -" Tara began to protest.
"And I have this," Anya proudly proclaimed, holding aloft a cell phone and waving it at Tara. "So if there's any kind of emergency, everyone can get ahold of you. Wouldn't you be worrying yourself sick over how everyone is doing on the Hellmouth without you?"
"Well, yes, but -"
"No 'buts'!" Anya interjected. "I am going with you and you no longer have a say in the matter."
"Anya, honey," Xander said, bounding up to the car, a bag in his hand. He knelt next to the car and leaned in the open window, stealing a kiss.
"Did you pack the -?" Anya began to question.
"Yes," Xander said with an indulgent grin.
"What about the -?"
"Yes."
"And that thing with the -"
"Yes, yes, and yes," Xander assured her. "I have packed everything you requested in my uniquely manly yet domestic manner."
"Oooh … like how you cook breakfast in that frilly apron?" Anya asked, a delighted smile on her face. "I want to be there next time you pack a bag for me," she declared.
"Sure thing, sweetie. Hi, Tara," Xander greeted belatedly.
"Hi Xander," Tara said weakly. "Thank you both, but I really don't need -"
"Yes, you do," Xander said, a serious look on his face. "Well, you don't, but - " Xander trailed off, gathering his thoughts. "Tara, we're your friends. You're going back to someplace you haven't been in two years, and while we all know that you're perfectly capable of doing it on your own, why not have a friendly face with you if you can?"
"Anya, do you really want to give up a weeks worth of money?" Tara asked, changing tactics.
"Well … " Anya hedged.
"Anya," Xander said in a warning tone.
"I - but Xander … she brought up the money! It's not fair that she brought up the money! All that beautiful nice-smelling bits of paper that can be exchanged for goods and services," she finished wistfully. Tara let a triumphant grin cross her features, only to fade away at the look of resolve that took over Anya's face. "But friends can't be purchased with money, and you're my friend, and I don't have very many of those, so I'm going."
"I -"
"And I have the phone! See the phone! It's small and portable and will allow us to communicate with friends and loved ones who may experience mortal peril in our absence."
"Okay."
"So it's very important that the phone and I accompany you on -"
"I said 'okay'," Tara said, an amused smile crossing her face, even as her heart was warmed by the friendship these two offered. She was so very thankful that their friendship had remained, even when her relationship with Willow had self-destructed.
"Well, then," Anya said with a cheerful smile. "Let's go on our Excellent Adventure before I think about the money some more and change my mind."
"Bye, Honey," Xander said, leaning in for one last kiss. "Bye, Tara. We'll call if anything happens, but you two call if anything happens on your end, too, okay?"
Tara nodded, then pulled away from the curb, heading out of Sunnydale.
"'Excellent Adventure'?" Tara finally questioned after several minutes of silence.
"Oh, yes. Like Bill and Ted, only neither one of us says 'dude', or is in possession of a time-traveling phone booth," Anya said.
"Xander made you watch that movie?" Tara asked incredulously. "That was >extremely< unkind of him."
"We've been going through all the classics in alphabetical order, so I can become well-versed in human pop culture," Anya explained. "Oh! I'm an ex-demon, and you thought you were a demon, so that has to count for something, right? That can take the place of Bill and Ted's surfer-boy demeanor."
"And the phone booth?" Tara asked, playing along.
"A vampire's car is a much better mode of transportation than a future-guy phone booth," Anya said. "Because we're not trying to travel through time. And while we don't have a history report, we have a Hell God to research."
"We could start a band," Tara added. "We could call it 'Wyld Demons'."
"And neither one of us can play the guitar, so it's perfect," Anya jumped in excitedly. "And our music can bring about the closing of all Hellmouths, thereby ensuring the safety of future generations."
"There you go. We'll save the future with our badly played 'Wyld Demons' music and spout pithy phrases like 'Be Excellent to Each Other'."
"Don't forget to party on, dude," Anya added with a giggle.
Then Tara started giggling.
They both laughed, letting some of the tension of the upcoming trip ease, the sound echoing through the car as they passed the sign marking Sunnydale's city limits.
As the laughter died down, Anya replayed the conversation in her head, a puzzled expression on her face. "That wasn't actually funny. So why were we laughing?" she asked.
Tara's only response was to grip the wheel as she laughed harder.
"Are you laughing at me?" Anya asked uncertainly. "No, of course not," she went on as Tara laughed helplessly, her body shaking. "Xander explained friendship to me, and you're my friend, so you wouldn't laugh at me. You must be laughing with me, only I don't understand the joke."
Tara's laughter eased off as the genuine distress in Anya's tone filtered through her mind. "It's just … how much sleep have you gotten in the last few days?" Tara asked.
"Not much," Anya admitted. "Lots and lots has happened."
"Exactly. So, when people are tired, things seem much funnier than they are. Then there's the stress."
"Stress?"
"Yes," Tara said, nodding. "We haven't been sleeping because of all the things that have been going on, and the things are scary and dangerous. That creates a lot of tension. Laughter helps ease that, so we're more likely to find little things funny when we're under pressure."
"Oh, so, we think Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure is actually funny because Willow's dark source is a Hell God?" Anya asked bluntly. "That kind of makes sense," she added with a giggle. "I mean, it's clearly the best movie Keanu Reeves has ever made. Except maybe for The Matrix, because that was nice and violent."
"Can we - umm … can we not mention the whole 'Hell God' thing for awhile?" Tara cut in.
"Sure," Anya cheerfully agreed. "What would you like to talk about instead? I could tell you stories about my Vengeance Demon days," Anya offered excitedly.
"Those stories are a little … gorier than I'd like right now," Tara said tactfully, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
"Well, it's all fake violence, really. Like in the movies. Because none of it ever happened in this reality. Once Giles destroyed my amulet, all the wishes were reversed," Anya explained.
"How much would that have changed?" Tara mused.
"Oh! Oh my God!" Anya burst out suddenly, making Tara start, the car swerving wildly on the deserted highway.
"What?" Tara asked, her eyes wide as she regained control of the car.
"I didn't eviscerate your many-greats grandfather!" Anya explained.
"What?" Tara asked again, her tone startled.
"Well, I did … it just never really happened, because my amulet was destroyed. Which means, that wish didn't come true," Anya said, a feeling of relief washing over her.
Wordlessly, Tara pulled the car over. She quickly hit the hazard lights, then put the car in park. Slowly, she turned to face Anya.
"Start again. At the beginning, please," she requested.
"Remember when we were researching the Dark Sources, and we talked about witch burnings?" Anya asked. Tara nodded. "And I talked about that white witch who wished her husband wouldn't hurt her daughter anymore?"
"I remember … that w-was … they w-were … related to me?" Tara questioned uneasily.
"Yes," Anya answered.
"H-how do you know that?" Tara had to ask. Her great something grandmother burned at the stake? It made sense, sort of … could that be where the demon legend of the MacClay women had originated?
"That crystal - the one you dropped at the shop. After telling that story, I recognized it. The daughter, Fionna, wore it," she explained. "I didn't notice before … I just … I didn't know if I should tell you," Anya hastened to add.
"Fionna?" Tara asked weakly. "That w-was my mother's name."
"It couldn't have been your mother," Anya said. "It was … at least a hundred years ago. Some of the years in there kind of run together."
"I … It's a family tradition. We're named for our great-grandmothers," Tara explained.
"I, umm … I thought the magic came through your mother's side?" Anya asked tentatively.
"Yes. Yes, it does," Tara confirmed absently, her mind racing. Her great-great-great-grandfather had been eviscerated, but not? His wife, her grandmother a few times removed, had been burned alive? Tara shuddered, then rolled down the window, suddenly feeling warm.
"But her name was MacClay. Fionna MacClay. So she was on your dad's side," Anya reasoned.
"My father's name is Roberts. Steven Roberts," Tara said in a monotone, facing forward and starting the car up again.
"But I thought - " Anya began, only to trail off, a confused look on her face.
Tara put the car in gear, moving back onto the highway before answering the unasked question. "H-he let you all call him 'Mr. MacClay' because h-he didn't w-want to explain. The w-women in my family have kept the MacClay name for hundreds of years. They people in the area know that any w-woman named 'MacClay' is … evil," she explained in a broken, halting voice.
"Maybe you should pull over again," Anya suggested, unsure of what to say to this revelation.
"No, I'm fine," Tara insisted, staring grimly ahead into the night.
"Tara … I'm … I'm so sorry," Anya said, feeling the words were completely inadequate, but having some kind of irrational need to say them anyway. "You're not evil. You're the most non-evil person I know."
"I know that, now," Tara said, nodding slowly. "But I always thought … I always thought that one day I'd …"
"Go nuts and wreak the evil havoc on your poor unsuspecting town without the guidance of the strong menfolk?" Anya offered up.
"Something like that," Tara admitted, her lips twisting into a wry grin. "But when you put it like that, it sounds kind of …"
"Stupid?" Anya said helpfully.
"Yes, stupid," Tara acknowledged with a sigh.
"It's not so stupid, though," Anya said. "You were raised to believe it your whole life. Your mother believed it, and her mother before her. You had no reason to question it - no reason to doubt."
"Until I came here," Tara said with another nod. "Then I had all the reason in the world. I wanted it to not be true so badly, but I knew - I knew, deep down - that I was just lying to myself. That I was being selfish. How could I have been so wrong?"
"No, how could your father have been such an asshole," Anya corrected. "I bet you were scared more than anything. That you knew you weren't evil, but thought 'what if'. 'What if' you really were a demon, but you didn't stay with the people you thought could control you? It's because you're such a good person - and I mean, >sickeningly< good - that it worked. You almost went back."
"But I didn't," Tara said firmly. "I got out. And now I'm going to pick up the last of my mother's things, and then I'm never going back again."
"Umm … Tara? Are you sure your father would have kept them?"
"He couldn't have thrown them out," Tara said.
Anya looked skeptical. "He … didn't seem the sentimental type."
"No, he couldn't have. They're protected," Tara explained.
"Oh!" Anya said, comprehension dawning. "You mean magically."
"Yes," Tara confirmed.
Silence fell over the car, nothing but the empty highway and the glow of their headlights before them.
"So," Anya said, pressing her hands together. "Are we there yet?"
[This message has been edited by Sassette (edited January 29, 2002).]
by SeanGaffney » Tue Jan 29, 2002 2:15 am
--SG
by Rane » Tue Jan 29, 2002 2:40 am
by mollyig » Tue Jan 29, 2002 3:11 am
And I love that Tara's mother and great grandmother (or however the lineage goes) were named Fiona! Its one of my favourite old Irish names.
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Now that I know there's something to know, I can't *not* know, just because I'm afraid
somebody'll know I know, you know?
by ForeverPiper » Tue Jan 29, 2002 3:14 am
by Pixie » Tue Jan 29, 2002 8:31 am
by Charlie » Tue Jan 29, 2002 9:00 am
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‘When she lowers her eyes she seems to hold all the beauty in the world between her eyelids; when she raises them I see only myself in her gaze.’
- Natalie Clifford Barney
by Shaniezak » Tue Jan 29, 2002 12:05 pm
Take "you rock" mantra that I often repeat to you; lather, rinse, repeat.
Anya is hysterical when she's wildly enthusiastic about something that's mundane to most people, like the cell phone--wonderful job with the character there. It's laugh-out-loud funny and yet very touching at the same time. Gotta love the unique sort of friendship Tara and Anya have, and Anya's way of expressing it. That whole "self-employed" spiel was great, aswas her obvious difficulty with the thought of leaving the money, followed by her insistence that Tara's well-being was more important. Really sweet.
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"And where does magick come from? I think magick's in the learning . . ." -- Dar Williams
"And if there is a way to find you, I will find you . . . but threads that are golden don't break easily . . ." -- Tori Amos
"Love is lightning, love is ice; it only strikes the lucky twice--once so you will know the price, and once for crazy faith . . ." -- Alison Krauss and Union Station
by Sassette » Tue Jan 29, 2002 4:06 pm
Wow.
Note To Self: Kittens don't need plot advancement ... just fun/sweet interaction between Willow/Scooby, Tara/Scooby, or - best yet - Willow/Tara.
But then again, if I don't move this plot along, Joss is going to beat me to the Willow/Tara hugs-and-puppies.
-Sass
**********Edited to add: Anybody think they know what's going on yet?*************
[This message has been edited by Sassette (edited January 29, 2002).]
by Sassette » Wed Jan 30, 2002 1:09 am
Title: Answering Darkness Part 25 - Doorways
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to pink_overalls@yahoo.com
Summary: Willow heads on over to Buffy's house for a Scooby update
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 this seems the fastest way to get a reconciliation and because I feel this is one of the possible outcomes when taking the "addiction" metaphor into account. So, I should shut the heck up now, and just get to the story, right? Right.
Answering Darkness Part 25
Doorways
By Sassette
Willow walked cautiously up the path to the door, her footsteps hesitant. A wave of sadness washed over her. This had been home, and now … now it was … not.
She and Tara had been so happy there, before she had gone and ruined everything. She wasn’t sure exactly why she had been asked to come over, except that Xander had mentioned Scooby stuff the night before and Buffy had left a message on her parents’ answering machine asking her to come over after her classes.
Would Tara be there? Would Tara very pointedly Not Be There? Willow wasn’t sure which prospect scared her more. After the – interlude? heavy make-out session? bad magick attack? – at the Magic Box, she was more confused than ever about where, exactly, she stood with her ex-girlfriend.
“Ex-girlfriend,” Willow whispered aloud, standing in front of the door. Knock? Go in? “Never thought I’d have one of those,” she muttered. Ring the bell?
Willow regarded the closed door thoughtfully, the weight of her loss settling over her shoulders. This never used to be a door. Doors could be closed. At one time, she had thought it was more of a … an archway. Or a path. She was free to walk it every single day.
Now it was a door. And closed. Closed to her.
Like Tara.
She couldn’t open the door, no. She couldn’t just open it up and walk in like nothing had happened, because things had happened. Bad things – things that were her doing. And that’s probably what hurt the worst: that she had been the one who had made it a door.
But doors could be opened, couldn’t they? If she just knocked, or range the bell … or kinda’ loitered until someone walked by … the could be opened. But someone on the inside had to open the door. They had to want to let her in. She wasn’t sure she had that anymore.
No, she knew she didn’t. But maybe, one day …? When she wasn’t the kind of person people didn’t want in their living rooms …?
Willow shook her head, reaching out a hand and pressing her finger to the doorbell. “What the frilly heck am I talking about?” she said to herself. “Or, not really talking – more of a thinking thing. Except now. Now I’m talking to myself, and isn’t that a sign of insanity? Or does babbling not – hi!”
“Willow,” Buffy said, holding the door and stepping out of the way. “Come on in. Xander should be here any minute.”
“I got your message,” Willow said. “Well, obviously, I got your message, because I’m here. Not that I’ve never stopped by before, but what with the … things – the bad things, and all, I would’ve called first, if I was just stopping by.”
“Sit down, Will,” Buffy said with a half-smile at Willow’s nervous ramblings.
“Right. Sitting. That bendy-knee thing,” Willow went on, sitting on the couch. “I’m, umm … I’m not in trouble, am I?” she asked uncertainly. Buffy’s message had been fairly vague. “I mean, I know I am, but … I’m not for any new stuff, right? Not that there’s any new stuff,” she went on quickly. “No – nothing new … just classes, and no magic. Well, there was that kind of bad moment when I realized I didn’t have a pen with me, but I just borrowed one. No conjuring at all, because that’s not my thing anymore. Totally magic-free.”
“It’s okay, Willow. You’re not in any trouble,” Buffy reassured her, sitting down.
“So why’d you call? Not that you need a reason or anything, and –“
“Nervous much?” Buffy said kindly, humor evident in her voice. “Look, Willow – we’re all really proud of you right now. There’s just some Scooby stuff we need to go over.”
“Oh, good,” Willow said. “Yay Scooby stuff. Definitely down with the Hell God free zone here,” Willow said, nodding.
Buffy clasped her hands in front of her, wishing like crazy that Xander would show up already. He had some news of the Hell God variety, but hadn’t shared it yet, and the only thing Buffy could think of was the fact that Tara had left town, and she was pretty sure that wasn’t a topic she wanted to be the one to broach to Willow.
“So, where’s Tara?” Willow asked as casually as she could, her gaze flitting across the room landing on everything but Buffy.
Buffy looked up sharply. “Tara?” she asked weakly.
“Yeah, you know – Tara,” Willow said, her eyes finally finding Buffy. “Blonde, Wiccan … really cute. We used to date.”
“Oh, that Tara,” Buffy said. “She’s not here.”
“She’s not? Is she at the magic shop?” Willow asked, then shook her head, holding up a hand to forestall Buffy’s answer. “Never mind. That’s not fair to ask, is it? I mean, it’s not like I have the right to know what she’s doing every second of every day. Or even any second of any day. Not anymore,” she finished her eyes watering.
“Willow,” Buffy began, taking one of Willow’s hands and holding it between her own. “I –“ Buffy stopped, unsure of what to say.
“Buffy?” Willow asked, fear evident in her voice. “Did something … happen? Tara’s okay, isn’t she?” Willow stood abruptly, panic rising up when Buffy didn’t answer immediately. She began pacing. “She’s not sick or hurt – not in the hospital? Oh, God … is she in the hospital? We need to be there,” her voice raced on, her feet carrying her towards the door at her last words.
“Willow – she’s fine. She’s not in the hospital. She’s not sick and she’s not hurt,” Buffy said, finding her voice to reassure Willow.
“But something’s … wrong? You have that look on your face,” Willow accused, pointing a frantic finger at Buffy. “It’s the ‘I can’t tell Willow what’s going on because she’ll freak out’ face!”
“I do not have a ‘I can’t tell Willow what’s going on because she’ll freak out’ face,” Buffy protested.
“Well, maybe not that one exactly,” Willow hedged, wringing her hands together. “But you do have I ‘something’s happened but I don’t know what to say’ face, and you’re definitely using it!”
Buffy took a deep breath, looking down at the carpet. “Tara left,” she admitted bluntly.
“Left? Like, she went to the store or something …?” Willow asked, her mind trying to reach any conclusion but the obvious one.
“No. She’s coming back,” Buffy went on quickly, realizing that Willow must be thinking the worst. “She’ll be back,” she said again. “But she’s going to be gone maybe a week.”
“Did she say why? Or where? It’s … God, I can’t believe I >did< that,” Willow said, rubbing her face with her hands and remembering how they had parted the last time she had seen Tara.
“She and Anya found something. She needed some of her mother’s things.”
“Some of her mothers … ?” Willow asked, her body going completely still, a slightly dazed look on her face. “She didn’t … she’s not …” Willow began shaking her head from side to side. “No … she can’t … she couldn’t have …”
“She went back to her father’s house,” Buffy spelled out Willow’s fear.
“But – they … they think she’s evil. She can’t be around them. They’re bad for her,” Willow argued, going over every reason why Tara couldn’t have possibly done exactly what Buffy said she had.
“The same could be said for you,” Buffy’s voice echoed unnaturally in the room.
“What?” Willow asked, a look of profound hurt and stunned disbelief on her face. She knew Buffy was right, but she had never expected her friend to actually say that to her.
“I said, maybe what’s she’s going for is worth it,” Buffy repeated herself, a concerned look on her face. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“Fine,” Willow said weakly, confusion evident in the expression on her face as she let her suddenly numb legs bend slowly, finding the couch and a seat with one hand. Gingerly she sat, looking at her friend. “You said that what she’s going for is worth it? That’s all you said?”
“Yeah,” Buffy said slowly. “What did you think I said?”
“Nothing,” Willow lied, frowning.
“Hey, kids,” Xander said, coming into the house. “Are we all ready for our Scooby update.”
“Tara left town,” Willow said starkly.
“I know,” Xander said with a nod. “She and Anya found some things and Tara wanted some stuff her mom had. She thinks it will help.”
“When did you know?” Willow asked, standing up again.
“Huh?” Xander uttered.
“When did you know? When did she leave? Why didn’t you tell me?” Willow demanded, advancing on her friend.
“I knew last night. She left last night. And I didn’t tell you because you’ve got more important things to think about right now,” Xander said soothingly.
“Nothing is more important than Tara,” Willow stated in a low controlled voice. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. And you just let her go? Alone?”
“Well I told you now. And it’s not like a ‘let’ her go … what was I supposed to do? Sit on her? Tie her up and toss her in the basement?” Xander responded curtly. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said, his features softening. “I just – I didn’t really know what to do. Anya went with her, so she’s not alone, and you had that meeting, and I just –“
“No, I’m sorry,” Willow said, slumping back into her seat, her anger leaving her as abruptly as it had come. “Just … that’s a kinda’ big thing, y’know? And I wanna’ know that stuff when it happens, not a day later, okay?”
“I promise,” Xander said solemnly.
“And Anya went with her?” Willow asked, fighting valiantly against the little kernel of jealousy that sprung up within her.
“Yeah. We knew you wouldn’t want her to go alone, and that … well, we figured a friendly face wouldn’t hurt,” he explained.
“So what’s the big Scooby discovery?” Buffy asked, changing the uncomfortable subject.
Xander somehow managed to look even more uncomfortable. “It’s bad,” he said slowly.
“Xander, what is it?” Willow asked, seeing the slightly sick look on his face.
“Look … Tara and Anya don’t know for certain. It’s just a theory,” he cautioned.
“Xander – could you just spit it out?” Buffy asked impatiently. “Kinda’ needing the 4-11 on the Hell God.”
“It’s …” Xander paused, taking a big breath. “Tara and Anya think that maybe … maybe this Trickster guy is Willow’s source,” he explained.
“What does that mean?” Buffy asked with a frown as all the color in Willow’s face drained away.
The room seemed to cave in around Willow as Xander’s words sunk in. The air felt heavy and think, and Willow’s lungs labored to pull in the needed oxygen to keep her functioning. The room shifted then swam before her eyes.
“It means that – “ Xander began, only to stop and stare at Willow as she fell over on the couch. “Willow?”
“Oh, God, Willow?” Buffy said, quickly moving from her seat to kneel in front of Willow and checking her pulse as Xander leaned over the unconscious redhead and began patting her cheek gently.
“Come on, Wills,” he said, panic evident in his voice.
“Huh?” Willow said, her eyes blinking rapidly as she flinched away from the hand patting her face.
“Jesus – don’t do that,” Xander demanded.
“What he said,” Buffy added, sitting back on her heels and taking a shaky breath.
“What?” Willow asked, her mind trying to wrap itself around her suddenly horizontal position, then inexorably drifting to the last time she had done that – only yesterday. Only, yesterday, there had been Tara kisses and fun things. This wasn’t nearly as fun. “Did I … faint?” she asked incredulously.
“Yes, yes you did,” Xander informed her. “And there will be no more of that, young lady,” he said, wagging a finger at her.
“Did you eat anything today?” Buffy asked with a frown, placing a hand on her forehead. “You’re not running a temperature.”
Willow frowned as she replayed the days events in her mind. Waking. Dressing. Class. Break. Class. Break. Class. Parents’ house. Here. “I think I forgot to do the food thing.”
“No replacing magic with an eating disorder,” Xander said sternly, wagging his finger again.
“Food! I can do food,” Buffy said quickly, standing up and jogging into the kitchen. Willow sat up, her head spinning slightly at the change of altitude.
“Easy there,” Xander said, catching her by the shoulders when she faltered.
“Why don’t we have any food?” Buffy called from the kitchen after the sound of cabinets being opened and closed carried into the room.
“You know, Willow,” Xander began, his voice gentle. “You never could do anything right. Why did you think magic would be so different? You’ve screwed up everything but school, and – who but you gives a damn about that? Oz, Tara … they left you because you’re so inadequate. I don’t think either one of them really ever loved you. Oz pitied you, and Tara was just overcome by the attention.”
“What?” Willow squeaked. “You can’t mean that,” she protested, her eyes wide.
“Of course I do. You’re a total failure in everything that’s ever mattered. If your magic was so great, why couldn’t you just save Buffy in the first place? Why did she have to die? And don’t even get me started on the whole ‘Tara brain-sucked’ thing. That was your fault, too,” Xander said seriously, his voice taking on a mocking tone as it echoed through the room. Willow put her hands over her ears, flinching back from her lifelong friend and shaking her head violently. “Tara’s such a great girl, and you screwed it up. We all love her. In fact, we like her a hell of a lot more than we like you. Why do you think Buffy kicked you out and asked her to stay?”
Willow stood, her whole body trembling as she ran for the door on shaky legs. Xander followed her, his longer stride letting him catch her and spin her around before she could escape. Each word was like a blow, and Willow’s body jerked like she had been struck.
“We never really liked you. We just needed your hacking skills. Then you showed us that a witch could take care of those things. Now, we have a likeable witch. We don’t need you. We don’t want you. You shouldn’t even be here,” Xander went on.
“No!” Willow yelled, pushing Xander away from her with all the force she could muster. “We were friends,” she cried out, tears streaming down her face. “How can you say that?” she demanded. “How can you say that to me? How >dare< you say that to me?” Willow’s eyes shifted to black, magic tingling within her as the hairs at the nape of her neck stood on end.
Willow looked at Xander’s stunned face as he lay sprawled on the floor, and with an effort, she turned and opened the door, running into the night and slamming it behind her.
“What’s going - ?” Buffy asked, running into view.
“I don’t know,” Xander said, struggling to his feet. He opened the door, and ran outside after Willow. “But I’m going to find out,” he called over his shoulder.
Willow stumbled as soon as she reached the street, her hurt and anger settling in her belly like a physical ache. With a groan, she doubled over, falling onto her knees. Her stomach rebelled, and she vomited, hot streams of magic pouring from her mouth and spilling onto the street.
“Willow,” Xander called, kneeling next to her.
“Get away from me,” Willow hissed, turning her head and glaring at her onetime friend.
“Willow, you need help,” Xander said slowly.
“Like you care,” she spat, before turning and heaving again, more inky black filth issuing forth.
“Oh, God, that’s nasty,” Xander said, a green pallor rising up onto his face as the angry stench of the – whatever it was – hit his nose. Willow continued vomiting, her pain and anger draining as the fluid left her body, leaving her lying limply.
“What the hell was that?” Buffy asked, kneeling beside Willow and lifting her into her arms.
“No,” Willow protested, attempting to free herself, but only succeeding in wriggling slightly.
“I have no idea. I was just telling her that there was no way we were letting any Big Bad have her – Hell God or not – and she just kinda’ … flipped out. She started saying things, like ‘how can you say that?’” Xander explained as they walked back into the house. “I have no idea what she meant,” he finished weakly.
Buffy nodded, letting Xander get the door, and walking inside. Carefully, she laid Willow down on the couch, pulling a blanket over her.
“Buffy?” Xander said slowly.
“Yeah?”
“I think we’re in way over our head here,” he admitted. “I mean, the meetings were great and all, but did you see … that stuff?” he asked, waving his hand towards the door.
“Yeah, I did,” Buffy said, a thoroughly disturbed look on her face. “That was … really gross, and really … scary.”
“So what do we do?” Xander asked, a plaintive look on his face.
“I – “ Buffy began, stopping when the phone rang. “Hello?” she said into the receiver. “Giles!” she exclaimed, a look of relief on her face. “Oh, God, it’s so good to hear from you.”
“Giles?” Xander asked, a wide grin spreading across his features. If there was anyone who would know what to do, it would be Giles. And they had to do something. Xander shuddered, as he tried to imagine going through the things Willow was clearly experiencing. Or not so clearly experiencing, like this most recent thoroughly confusing episode.
“No, not now. That’s not important. Look – there’s something really wrong with Willow,” Buffy said urgently. “She’s … it’s like she’s sick. She’s been off the magic, but she … she kinda’ … threw up this … stuff. Smelled bad, all black and icky. No, it wasn’t normal vomit,” Buffy insisted after Giles’ interjection. “Yes, I’m sure. Normal vomit doesn’t do the crackly electricity thing.”
“What’s he saying?” Xander asked, moving closer to Buffy, an expectant look on his face.
“Look, Giles – we need to help her. We don’t know how to help her.” Xander nodded, agreeing with Buffy’s assessment of the situation, even though Buffy wasn’t paying attention and Giles couldn’t see him through the phone. “Mary Ellen? How do you know Mary Ellen?” Buffy asked incredulously. “We met her at the AA meeting Willow went to last night,” she explained. “Okay … hold on,” she said, grabbing a scrap of paper and a pencil. “Okay, go ahead,” she said, jotting something down. “Great – we’ll call her right now,” Buffy said, with a relieved smile.
“Mary Ellen?” Xander asked incredulously. “She knows about this stuff?” Buffy nodded absently as she continued listening to Giles.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said flatly. “No!”
“What?” Xander asked urgently, only to step back when Buffy glared at him.
“I’m sick and tired of this, Giles. First Dawn, now this. I won’t have it! No!”
“Oh, God,” Xander said, stepping back again, trying to distance himself from what he was sure was going to be extremely bad news.
“I know,” Buffy said, weary defeat in her voice. “Look, I need to call Mary Ellen. Yes. Okay. Good-bye.”
“What’s going on?” Xander asked when Buffy hung up the phone.
“Apparently, Mary Ellen is a seer. Full-on white witch. She shops at the magic shop, so Giles knows her,” Buffy explained.
“Tell me the bad part, Buffy,” Xander said seriously.
“It seems the Trickster needs the descendant of the witch who defeated him to let him out of Hell,” Buffy whispered. “So it looks like he’s going to be seriously after Willow, because she’s some kind of doorway for him. Giles only has a partial on that prophecy thing – they’re still working on it.”
“Buffy – no … that can’t … I mean … damn.”
“Yeah, that about sums up my feelings on the subject.”
“So now what?” he asked uneasily.
“I have no idea.”
[This message has been edited by Sassette (edited January 30, 2002).]
by Pixie » Wed Jan 30, 2002 9:20 am
by nika » Wed Jan 30, 2002 9:40 am
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"Eat lot's of applesauce, preferably fed to you by attractive young lesbians." Amber Benson
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