Disclaimer: ibid
Rating: PG-13. Adult themes. Nothing too dark here.
By the time Willow reached the gates of the cemetery, it was dusk. Exhausted, distressed and out of breath, she summoned her failing strength for a final effort and ran towards Tara’s grave.
As she ran, she gasped under her breath, as she had been doing since she had left the Magic Box, “oh no, I made a wish, oh no, I made a wish.” Her feet crunched on the gravel path. Just ahead she could see the familiar grey shape of her departed lover’s headstone. Half hoping to see the turf torn, and a hand or at least a finger poking out of the earth, she moaned as she saw that the plot before it was undisturbed. She’s still down there! She forced herself into a final sprint, raising her axe, ready to tear her way into the ground to free Tara.
Just as Willow was about to reach the grave, a dark figure came dashing out of a nearby crypt and cannoned into the redhead, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Willow fell awkwardly and twisted her ankle, making her gasp in pain. The axe flew from her hand and clattered against a gravestone. Winded, she lay sprawled, unable to move for the moment.
“Willow? Are you okay?” the other asked.
Willow felt the hairs on the nape of her neck rise. “Tara?” she squeaked. The next moment the redhead was engulfed in a convulsive embrace. “I don’t believe it! I missed you so much! I thought - you’re free? How? Ah, okay, oxygen becoming an issue…”
The arms crushing Willow in their grip relaxed. Willow looked into the eyes of her beloved blonde witch, too astonished to do anything for the moment. Tara looked deep into the other’s green eyes and said: “Oh, Willow, there’s so much I…but not now, I think we need to get out of here. This place is crawling with vampires.”
“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting, Sunnydale cemetery after sunset and all…” Willow whispered.
“Shh, shh, come on, this way.”
“My ankle hurts.”
“Give me your arm.”
Keeping low, Tara half-carrying the redhead, the pair ducked between the rows of headstones and zigzagged their way towards the cemetery gates. From time to time they glimpsed dark running figures, hunting for prey. Once, they came too close for comfort, and Tara whispered: “Umbra,” conjuring a patch of shadow that kept the pair hidden even from vampires’ eyes. Finally, they reached the cemetery gates and were through them and across the street to relative safety.
When they had left the graveyard a block or two behind them, Willow begged for a rest stop. She lowered herself painfully to the ground. Tara crouched before her with a concerned expression, holding her hands. Then, as if for the first time, Willow looked Tara up and down. Even in the deepening darkness, the redhead could see Tara’s lips parted in that familiar lopsided smile that she remembered so well.
“Oh Tara,” Willow sobbed, her dam finally broken, “You’re alive!” Tara hugged her close and said nothing. Willow broke the embrace after a moment and looked Tara in the face. “I got so lost without you.”
“And I found you. I’ll always find you,” the blonde reassured her.
“Oh Tara, I did a terrible, terrible thing,” Willow cried, “I made a wish, a careless wish, I didn’t even know I did it until I looked at the tape and I thought it was too late and you wouldn’t get out in time and I ran and ran to the graveyard to dig you out if I had to and I’m babbling and I can’t help it and I’m crying because I’m so happy and here you are!”
Tara smiled. “You haven’t kissed me yet. Could you be kissing me now?” Willow sank into Tara’s arms and corrected the error, kissing those soft lips she had missed so much. A soft moan of pleasure escaped the redhead. Tara sighed gently in response.
Too soon, the kiss ended. “You’re so cold,” Willow commented.
“I just climbed out of a tomb,” Tara replied. “Should we be getting on? Those vampires might come looking again.”
“Oh yes, of course. Let’s go home. There’s so much I want to tell you.”
“Me first. I love you,” Tara said.
“I love you too! I never stopped, even when you were…” Willow hesitated.
“When I was dead? You can say it,” Tara said, supporting Willow as they walked along.
“Were you - in heaven?” Willow asked tentatively, dreading the answer.
“I don’t remember anything. It was just emptiness,” Tara recalled. “Let’s get out of here.”
As they walked, Tara explained how she had dug her way downwards out of her coffin into an empty crypt. In turn, Willow brought Tara up to date with what had happened since the blonde’s murder. She left out her episode of madness and her flirtation with dark magic, it was not something Willow felt comfortable talking about on the street. Instead, she spoke of her near-catatonic episode of grief and depression, her journey to England with Giles and the reluctant journey she had been undertaking since her return. She told Tara about the emptiness of her life, of how seeing Tara’s vacant chair had been the catalyst for the wish that had so nearly ended in more tragedy.
“Are you angry at me for making a wish? I know it’s not really a spell or anything, but I was so careless.”
“I’m…,” Tara started to reply carefully, “Yes, I am angry, but not with you. Wishes often turn out badly. Demons that grant wishes usually can’t be trusted. They usually end up tricking you in some way.”
By this time they had reached Buffy’s house and had walked up the front steps. As they crossed the porch, Tara paused.
“Home,” she observed, “This is so strange, it feels like it isn’t real.”
Willow replied, “Tara, please come inside, I’ve got something really important to tell you about. I can’t talk out here. Please,” she pleaded, opening the front door. Tara lingered on the step a moment later, and then followed the redhead into the Slayer’s house.
(To be continued)
, whatever. Well - I prefer the super-Tara.
at: 6/23/02 11:39:33 am
. I thought it was awful. Poor Tara, what chance did she have in that crypt all by herself? Nasty vamps, no wonder she hated them so much.