Missing (Completed 12/25/09)

[NeverChosen]

Replies:

Morrigan- I'm glad that the chapter came across well. I tried to capture that feeling of distortion that long hours brings, but was afraid that it just came off as rough.
With regard to magic... I have a requirement of internal consistency in what I write. Part of what makes that feasible is having an explanation for how things work. Since magic can be a big "fix everything" plot device, I feel there has to be a reason that it can't just make problems disappear. There has to be a cohesive magic theory, with its own rules. If exceptions are made, I'd better have a good reason why it worked. In this case- why is Angel the only vampire they ever tried to put a soul in?
Another issue is that magic needs limits. Continuous escalation makes the contributions of other characters decline in the face of escalating villains. Anyway- that's another long discussion. Enough for now.

-Never

[NeverChosen]

Missing


Chapter 10: Confrontation

Legal: I don't own the stories, concept, characters, or anything else in BtVS. I own this story, but expect no financial gain from it.

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Willow finds Tara. Things do not go according to plan.

Notes: Now more readable, thanks to my newest beta!



The house Willow had marked on her map looked no different than the ones around it. It seemed like it should. There should be shadows, ominous creaking, maybe a bat or two. Not a manicured lawn with hibiscus bushes lining the walk. Not a kid's bicycle, left carelessly on the lawn. Certainly not grinning garden gnomes.


There were choices now. Break in the door and charge in, eldritch blazing? Stupid, showy, inefficient. It had almost gotten her killed when it was Glory. Dramatic gestures had no place here.


Had her assault on the vamp nest been any better though? After vampire Tara had found her, done little more than talk to her- what did she do? The same thing. Hit the panic button and went ballistic, secure in her belief that she had learned from the last time. She'd been a little better prepared, a little less impulsive. Her goals had even been a little more realistic. Yet the results had been the same; a big showdown, only with nothing to show for it.


This called for a different plan. She could do sneaky- try to steal in the way she had at the rug shop. Catch Tara unaware, perhaps even asleep in the final dregs of daylight. Maybe a diversion would help?


Before Willow could choose, or even properly imagine the scenarios in her head, the choice was made for her. The door swung open. The details of the figure within were hard to make out, standing well away from the remaining sunlight, but the form still unmistakable.


"I was beginning to wonder." Tara spoke just loud enough for Willow to hear. She was leaning against something as if she had been standing there a long time.


This was not good. Not good at all.


"What happens now?" Willow kept her place at the end of the walk, safe in the embrace of the sun.


"Won't you come in?"


"No, I don't think I will." Willow crossed her arms where she was. Tara was waiting. Tara was prepared. Tara was, thankfully, unable to come out of the house till the sun had set.


"Little Timmy wants you to come in," The vampire cajoled. Another shape was pulled into view through that open doorway. The child was around six years old, probably the owner of the kiddy bicycle on the lawn. His mouth working silently as he tried to cry out, the sound muffled by something unseen.


Oh Tara. Why a child… Willow's heart broke a little more. She'd accepted in the abstract that Tara had been turned. Her love had become a vampire that would kill and enjoy it. She wasn't the woman Willow knew and loved anymore… but she was the closest thing left. She remained the only link to hope.


It was harder to keep that in mind when Tara had grip of a child by his hair, wiggling his head a little to emphasize what she'd said. Willow took two steps forward and stopped. This was going to end badly if she didn't think of something. Unfortunately her mind was choosing this moment to rebel. She went to plan B; stall.


"Let him go first," She suggested, knowing better than to expect it.


Tara chuckled. "I do that and you'll start throwing spells."


"I go in and you'll kill him anyway," She countered.


"Damn. You got me." Tara pulled the boy's face up, forcing him to look at her. "She doesn't think you're worth chancing it, kid."


"Wait-"


Tara turned the kid's face toward where Willow was advancing hesitantly. The priorities had changed. First and foremost she needed to get the boy to safety.


Tara only had the one hand on him- a good grip in his hair. Willow began to weave the spell of separation in her mind. It would hurt. He'd lose some hair in the process. But he'd be safe. A stasis spell would take too long- with a vampire's reflexes, Tara would be out of her line of sight faster than Willow could finish it. Separation would need no hints- no vocalization, no gesture. She'd been gathering the necessary energy on the way; no shift would give her away. Without so much as a blink to herald her intention Willow released the magic into the mental matrix.


*Boom*


The air in front of the door shuddered and Tara jerked back away from it, face vamping out as she did. The boy in Tara's grasp writhed for a moment before he slumped, glassy eyed and barely keeping upright. Without the firm grip holding his head up, he might have fallen.


Willow was stopped in her tracks. There was no reason the spell shouldn't have gone through as planned. If anything, she'd put more energy into it than was really prudent, thinking that violently pushing the child out the door was better than not pushing hard enough. The resistance to her spell hadn't been something she could overcome, though. It felt like an absolute barrier… which should have been impossible for Tara to maintain.


"That… was naughty," Tara chided, golden eyes narrowed but a half-grin firmly in place. She jiggled the boy in her grasp like a slack marionette. "Try another one- let's see how long he lasts."


How long he lasts? Something tickled in the back of Willow's brain. Something they had read long ago, when they were on the hunt for something entirely different. Sanctuary… it had been a spell with such an innocuous name. The purpose had seemed just as pure. A zone free of the influence of magic from either within or without. The issue had been one of practicality. The spell required no maintenance because it was automatically triggered- a ritual sufficed to set it in place. The problem was that an automatic spell of that caliber would require instant access to the caster's own magical resources. This meant that the caster would be unprepared for the drain and tended to suffer considerably. If the toll was too much, it could kill them.


What made the spell go from impractical to vile was the solution to the issue. Anya had pragmatically called it "outsourcing". You simply shifted the drain to an appropriate source… as Tara had done to this child. They'd seen the spell together, exclaimed mutually over how wrong it was.


And this Tara was using it.


Why? Why a child?


Willow stood frozen. The separation spell should have solved the problem. It should have taken hold before the vampire could harm the child. It should have let her do what she needed to do.


Instead, she'd only managed to hurt the boy. He was alive, more-or-less conscious, but little more.


What to do? In preparing for saving Tara, she had blinded herself to the possibility that Tara would have figured out how to capture her instead.


"Come inside." Tara invited again. Maybe she meant it to be ironic; repeating the phrase a vampire would need to cross the threshold. Or it could mean another trap. Almost certainly yes to the latter.


"Let him go," Willow responded shakily. "He'll still be tied to the spell. You don't need him."


"He encourages compliance on your part," Tara replied with her typical practicality. "Look- I'm going back in. If you want to talk, join me. But if you want to fight- you know the consequences."


"Talk?"


"Talk." Tara turned away, dragging the boy behind her. "The den is the first entry on the right, whenever you make up your mind."


There it was. Tara wasn't negotiating; just laying out the rules of engagement. Willow knew that being bound by those rules was going to be a problem. But what else was there to do? Talk was cheap, she could do talk. The setup for the sanctuary spell had to be on site somewhere. She just needed to disrupt it or get Tara out of the building to do her own casting.


Willow started forward slowly. This needed to end, one way or another.


It felt like being in an old movie- the kind where you yell "don't go in there" at the screen. Willow entered with the complete expectation of dire consequences.


"See. That's wasn’t so hard." Tara was sitting in the corner of a cheerful paisley couch piled with pillows. The boy was sitting in front of her, plainly terrified of the gentle fingers combing through his hair. Fingers that could so easily turn to far more deadly pursuits.


Willow paused at the far end of the room, not sure where to stand. She felt like she should be doing some kind of kung-fu fight stance in preparation of a big climactic battle. Not just shifting from one foot to the other, eyes flicking between the vampire and the child.


"So… what did you want to talk about?" Her gaze finally settled on Tara's cold blue eyes. So familiar and yet so strange.


"You. Me. Where we go from here."


"It's really hard to think about that when you're holding a kid hostage." Willow settled on resting her hands over her new satchel. "And the whole vamp relationship thing? Not working for me."


"OK. Why?"


"Well. The whole dead, killing, evil part, for starters." Willow started to tick off fingers. "Not minor issues."


"Wolves kill. Are they evil?" Tara arched an eyebrow.


"Not seeing wolves and sheep doing the relationship thing either."


"Sheep, baby? You and I both know better than that. You are a sheep that hunts and kills wolves. Regularly. To drop the metaphor; you've killed more vampires than I've killed people. So I suppose I should be the one with the problem here." Tara held up a finger as Willow started to respond. "Hold it. And Vino De Madre? Just how naïve do you think I am?"


Willow blanched. "You knew?"


"I didn't want to. I hoped not. But I knew." Tara shook her head. "The denial kind of drained out of me not too long ago."


"With your soul?" Willow's bitterness was plain.


"With the knowledge that you took a piece of my memory." Tara sighed, as if disappointed with her. "You can't blame everything on my sire."


"Oh, I think I can." Willow felt herself stiffen just thinking about it. Destroying his arm was the least of what she wanted to do to him. If she had known, had gotten the chance…


"Are those pure and innocent thoughts going through that amazing brain of your right now?"


No. They were bad. Bad to the point of really evil. Demony evil. She'd gotten started on acting out some of those thoughts before she even knew he was Tara's sire. But he was a vampire. He was evil. That made it OK… right? Even Willow herself knew it was a flimsy argument. "It doesn't matter what I think. He's going poof. That's enough."


"Huh." Tara took that in calmly. "Buffy going to kill him for you?"


"Probably as we speak." Willow allowed herself a thin, satisfied smile. "Why did you follow him?"


"At first? Fear. Later… loyalty maybe?" Tara mused, not looking convinced. "He freed me from the prison in my mind.”


“That’s odd, I recall already doing that when we got rid of Glory.” It was a cheap shot, but she couldn’t think of a better retort.


“Different problem- you freed me from her into my personal cage of self-loathing. The same self-loathing that let you walk all over me. Take advantage of poor little Tara, who was just happy to have a friend. Anyone who would pay attention.”


That wasn’t true! It couldn’t be true. That was… that was what people did to Willow in high school. Heck, probably they still did, but she felt like she was more in control since… since Tara. Suddenly, it was harder to deny. But… she didn’t use Tara, did she? She didn’t take advantage of someone so lonely that they would grab onto anyone for support.


The silence lengthened.


“I like this rebuttal. You should use it more often.” The vampire said smugly.


Willow's mind was whirling so fast she almost missed it. The boy, seemingly forgotten, had inched out of Tara's reach. He looked like he was about to make a break for it. Willow kept talking to hold Tara's attention, replying derisively,


"And the demon just makes it all better?"


"You know, I've been wondering that. I assumed there was going to be some sort of dichotomy. Old me. New me." Tara raised both hands as if weighing something in each. "It's really not tha-"


The kid ran. He was on his feet and moving like he'd been waiting on a starter's block.


If only he'd run towards Willow, instead of away. She hadn't had any warning and between the two of them, Tara reacted faster. She was off the couch in a graceful arc, a pillow flinging loose in her wake. Willow flung out a hand reflexively, only catching herself at the last moment. A spell would only hurt him.


As suddenly as the break for freedom had begun, it was over. Tara had the boy by the wrist and was yanking him back. Unfortunately Willow had initiated her next action and stopping now would be both awkward and likely painful.


She tackled Tara. Xander would have been proud of her, overcoming her blatant lack of athleticism for the move. As they fell, she reflected serenely for a moment on the realization that there was a reason that people wore padding when they played football. Bones and fleshy bits were meeting in ways most unpleasant. Not to mention the floor.


Of course she got the worst of it. She'd tackled a vampire. Tara had twisted with the impact, ending up more over Willow than under her. The resulting collision with the floor was that much more painful for added weight.


She was shoved away easily, as she had expected, but Willow saw that it had been enough. She saw the boy's sneakers disappear and grabbed gallantly at Tara's denim clad legs as she moved all too quickly to pursue. It bought another moment.


Tara must still care. Any other vampire would have stepped on her outstretched arm, breaking it. Tara just pulled away. The incremental effort was no different. It was the cruelty that made the difference and it wasn't directed at Willow. The boy, on the other hand… there was a loud snarl and a crash in the hall.


Willow scrambled to her feet, her heart in her throat. A logical and amoral part of her realized that if the boy died, the sanctuary spell was lifted. It would give her the opening she needed to have a chance against Tara. Not against… a chance for her.


She got to the hallway soon enough to see what she hadn't even dared to hope. The boy was running out of the door that she had left standing open. The hard edge of sunlight across it had cut off Tara's pursuit. He was safe. He should know enough to get away. This complicated things in a different way- he would bring help. There weren't many people in Sunnydale who could really be counted to help more than get in the way.


Tara turned, her face in vampire ridges. There were things that the world was never meant to see, and this, Willow was sure, was one of them. But it made it easier to remember. It wasn't her. Only the shell.


"He won't help you," Tara said, as if trying to negate any sense of accomplishment. "His voice is bound- if he finds his parents, all they'll get is panic."


"You don't need him." Willow forced herself to relax her stance. Her heart was still racing and her breath wouldn't cooperate, but another barrier to her plan had been removed. Three cheers for human instincts of self-preservation. By ensuring the child's silence Tara had unwittingly helped her. There would be no interference to worry about. Her next priority could be dismantling the sanctuary spell.


"You know I'll kill him when night falls." Tara started to saunter back, kicking the door closed behind her. "Unless you give me a very good reason not to."


"This is your strategy? 'Stay with me or I go kill someone'?" Willow didn't let herself shy away as Tara brushed by her.


"Let's hear your idea, then." The vampire ridges melted away, leaving a look of gentle curiosity. Willow felt Tara's hand guiding her back to the den and she found herself moving in response before her brain even processed the signal.


"Tara… without your soul… you aren't…you." It sounded lame, even to Willow's own ears.


"I remember me. Some of it was pretty pathetic." Tara settled back on the couch.


"Hey!"


"Even that me knew it was pathetic. But I am absurdly pleased that you still stick up for her… me." Tara's brow furrowed as she seemed to search for a way to enunciate her thoughts. "Look. Before you say no. Give this me a chance. Without the fighting, the plotting. I don't turn you. You don't keep trying to soul me. Isn't being 'us' again worth it?"


"It can't happen. It won't. And I can't leave you like this…" Willow said softly, wishing she could keep the pain out of her voice.


"My soul is gone, baby. I made damned sure of that." There was a hint of challenge there. "So you have two choices. This me or no me. I object to the second option."


This was going nowhere. Willow looked into the face she longed for, searching it for the possibility that Tara was trying to offer. She reached out a hand, the gesture simple in itself, but carrying the weight of history. Tara's eyes softened. She met Willow's hand with her own, their fingers entwining.


It was there. The connection they had always felt. Distorted, twisted, but present. The cool hand that could crush hers instead held it gently; as if afraid the slightest pressure would be too much. Willow looked across at Tara. The vampire had relaxed almost imperceptibly at the contact. Perhaps she didn't feel the change.


Willow let her hand drop away. What Tara described… she could imagine it. Flirtation with darkness. Bargaining. Hiding. Compromises that lead to further compromises.


"I… I can't." She saw the vampire's face harden in response. "Any more than you could turn me and still have what we… had."


Willow had to make that clear. Tara had to have thought about turning her by now. But she had made no move to do so. She must have known the same thing Willow was saying. The vampire wasn't the same as the person. They couldn't be. Any more than Willow was the same as the skanky, licky vampire self she had seen back in high school.


"I've met me as a vampire- I don't think I ever told you about that." Willow stood and started to pace. "Anya did an alternate dimension grabby thing when she was trying to get back in the vengeance business and her aim was a little off. So we got vampy me instead."


"You killed her?" Tara raised an appraising eyebrow.


"No." Willow confessed. It would have made a better argument to lie, but lying had never been her strong suit. "We sent her back."


"Why? Didn't you know she'd be killing people wherever it was you sent her back to?"


"I guess… but…"


"But it was still you. Different, but you." Tara concluded amicably. "So you couldn't dust her. I get that."


This conversation was going all wrong. Like logic had taken a holiday and left this particular reasoning as a sorry substitute while it was gone. The worst part was, though, it did make a sort of sense. Here was Tara, a different Tara to be sure, but a Tara none the less. One that was telling Willow what Tara would never have allowed herself to confess. If this vampire was willing to risk her entire existence for a chance at what Willow and Tara had shared… she had to know what it was. What it meant. In more than just factual memory- there had to be emotion as well.


Was that enough, though? Would she agree to drink butcher's blood, relinquish the hunt- all in the name of remembered love? How could Willow hope for that, when this Tara thought nothing of using a child as a shield? When she had promised to kill him, as soon as the dwindling light had faded fully… Willow could tell her not to. She could bargain- herself, given for the boy. What would the next deal be, then? When would it all become irrelevant and she stayed simply because it was better than life alone?


In the end, the answer was simple. She had to believe that there was a better way than trying to recapture a shadow of the past in desperate fear of losing what had been. Willow was about solutions. Sometimes you had to let go of what you had to reach for what could be. What should be.


"I'm sorry. I have to try." With that Willow flipped open her bag. There was almost nothing she could use without harming the child. The holy water had been almost an afterthought in her preparations. Hurting Tara had no place in any of her plans, but that was when plans were still an option. She started to pull forth the vial one handed.


In a flash of fluid motion, Tara leapt over the couch, grabbing Willow’s hand where it was, not letting her draw it out. Willow squeaked belatedly, trying to jump backwards, but Tara’s free hand wrapped around her upper arm hard enough to hold her immobile.


“This. Is freedom.” Tara’s face was an inch from Willow’s, her words sounding like quiet desperation despite the fact that she was physically in complete control of the situation. “For once, I don’t hate myself. I don’t feel like anything p-people do for me is an act of pity. Your devotion to my poor departed soul is… cute, don’t think it isn’t. But Willow, listen to me. That soul was weak. It made me weak. It feared, it hurt, it drowned in its own damned worthlessness. I can’t go back to that.”


Willow stopped struggling. All the words resonated in her heart. That was me, once. But not anymore. She looked deep in Tara’s clear blue eyes, pleading she would forgive her in the end.


“This isn’t the way, Tara. I’m sorry.”


Willow brought up her right hand hard, burying the hidden syringe she held under Tara’s ribcage. The move was awkward, her upper arm still held in place by the vampire, but the long needle was sharp and her aim hardly needed to be precise. Willow thanked the chemistry gods that she had thought to leave that particular backup plan stowed in her right pocket, rather than in the bag with her magic accoutrements.


Tara didn’t even wince as the needle entered her, but reacted by throwing Willow back against the wall hard enough to make her head burst out in fireworks. Willow vaguely saw her love pull out the syringe, wishing she could see if she’d managed to get the entire contents injected.


“You… drugged me. YOU BITCH!” Tara threw the offending plastic to the floor, her face vamping out again as it was consumed in fury. Fangs bared she advanced on Willow, any compassion in her eyes lost in hard gold hatred.


Willow backed away warily, dropping her satchel gently to the ground. Why hadn’t the succinylcholine taken effect? Of the chemicals she'd mixed, its onset time was supposed to be the fastest- almost instant. The vampire wasn’t even slowed down! Maybe ketamine would have been better… but… Even without hitting a vein she should be getting plenty into her blood stream. Willow was sure she’d hit the heart, even with the angle she’d had to use… then, what, a couple seconds for systemic circula… oh. No heart beat. That means no circulation. Good point, really bad timing. Why didn’t these thoughts occur to her during the “planning” phase of things, rather than the “ouch this is going to hurt” phase?


Vampires almost always went for the grab. It was like it was hardwired into them when they turned and Tara proved no exception. The predictability was the only thing that made Willow's evasion possible. That a backhand swing would follow her was just as certain, but Willow was already dropping to the floor, executing an awkward roll that put her out of range. It was army-guy training that Xander had taught them all after one too many concussion that past summer. She still managed to hit her elbows, but at least her feet were under her.


Tara wasn't waiting for her to recover though. The vampire's hand curled in Willow's hair, yanking her to an awkward height that was neither kneeling nor standing.


"That… was rude." Tara's half hooded eyes were still angry, but she spoke through a tight grin. "I wouldn't think you the type to drug your girlfriend to get what you wanted from her."


The pain in her scalp pulled a whimper out of Willow. It brought a little crinkle of interest out of Tara which was quickly aborted. Instead, Willow's next action turned Tara's words into a roar of pain. Willow was released, dropping hard on her knees.


The cross that Willow had pulled out was small, but the size was of little relevance. No sanctuary spell could change the intrinsic weaknesses of a vampire. Tara had retreated out of reach, rubbing where Willow had pressed the little silver icon to her hand. The fleeting contact had left only a slight redness, but she shied from where Willow held the cross out before her. Rubbing her free hand across her tender head Willow rose slowly.


"Why do those things work?" Tara hissed incredulously. "You don't believe that myth any more than I do."


Willow shrugged, lunging forward as if to stab Tara with it. The vampire stepped away without effort, but it wasn't contact Willow was after. Even herding the vampire was too much to ask from a single little cross, not without a triangulation point to help. No. She just had to keep her moving.


It didn't last. Willow hadn't really expected it to- only hoped. Tara grabbed a lamp from the end table beside her and swung it by the wire frame. The base shattered where it struck Willow's outstretched arm. Her hand went numb as it was flung aside, forearm exploding in pain. The cross was lost, falling with the shards of the lamp that scattered across the floor.


Tara caught both thin wrists in a grip that defied any imagination of escape. Willow felt like the bones were grinding together, a small noise escaping her.


"You manage to soul me and I'll just leave you again- you know that." Their faces were almost touching. The vampire started to sag, fear darting through her features.


"Better that. Better anything than this."


"Why?" The vampire demanded, as the words were a torture themselves, "Why are you so willing to sacrifice a chance at… us."


"I love you." Willow said quietly, feeling the grip loosening.


“You don’t even know what that means.” Tara’s face bore the same look of pain it had the night she disappeared; the last night they had been a couple. Her consciousness failed her and she crumpled, falling hard to the ground.





.

[Zampsa1975]

Yay for great update-y goodness... I'm starting to wonder what is vampTara's reaction when she gets her soul back...

[AmberGoddess]

Angst much? I really like this, can't believe the thing with the little boy. More soon please!

[NeverChosen]

No midweek replies this time, so I'm just tacking them on the update.

Zampsa- Well, VampTara has put some pretty strong indicators out that all will not joyous and simple. Then again, she could be lying, or simply manipulating the truth- the best weapon she has in getting what she wants from Willow is discourse.

AmberGoddess- The kid served his purpose... he may have been a miscalculation on Tara's part, finally tipping Willow's perception of her into the Truly Evil category. How else could she convince Willow to actually sit still long enough to talk otherwise? Well, a phone call would have worked, but that wouldn't have been dramatic. ^_^

On with the story:

Missing


Chapter 11: Joining Forces


Legal: I don't own the stories, concept, characters, or anything else in BtVS. I own this story, but expect no financial gain from it.

Rating: PG-13

Summary: The spell that Willow created is put into action.

Notes: A short chapter, but that will be balanced by a long-ish final chapter.



Chalk on the floor in intricately patterned circles. Stinky herbs, dried animal viscera, rare minerals burned in specialized bowls, chants in languages dead to the world- it all would have been familiar. It would have been known.


Instead Willow had to depend on her research and just hope that she hadn't mistranslated anything. There was no "this doesn't look right" to fall back on. Strips of paper were arrayed in precise symmetry about the room. The inks on them were carefully concocted and even more carefully brushed into simple appearing glyphs. Glyphs so "simple" that it had taken a half dozen tries on each before the lines would fall in the exacting patterns required.


Once Tara had fallen unconscious Willow's first order of business had been finding the location of the sanctuary ritual. It required a continuously burning flame, so the kitchen had been the obvious choice. Tara had been a stickler for ritual, but had been infinitely practical in its execution. Where Giles would have taken an eternal flame to mean a blessed censure fed on hand-shaved cedar, Tara would have simply popped on the gas stove.


It brought a tiny smile to Willow's mind to see she was right. The ritual was arrayed carefully around a gas burner that glowed in the darkness. The end of the spell was no more dramatic than the snap of turning that burner off, the flame dying instantly. A telekinetic push which swept the rest of the careful display aside was enough to confirm the ritual's end.


Now was the hard part. Willow's own ritual was set up, checked and rechecked. The unmoving vampire was laid out on the hardwood floor. Willow stood over her, trying to decide how to start. This was unknown. Uncertain. Very much untested. And the only chance she could find at getting Tara back. Failure, if it occurred, would be absolute. Even the vampire that wore Tara's face could be consumed by the force of what she was about to do, severing the tenuous earthly connection that remained to her love. It was just as well that Willow would be riven apart by those same forces- she didn't think she could face a world that Tara did not exist in.


“我精神よ心よ,この命令をお聞き." Willow started the incantation, tears spilling down her cheeks. One chance. Her eyes began to burn black as she felt the power she was drawing up build within her.


“よりも愛しき…” This was the trickiest part. The transition from Mentos to ammonia- from preparation of the soul to creation of the vessel. All while holding the first spell midstream. She switched languages as she circled Tara’s sprawled form,


“On this, the 20th day, hear my prayer, by all the myriad names of God…” She began to recite the list as she paced in a circle about the vampire’s body, reaching for ingredients occasionally.


The first set of passes, Willow cast a handful of fine silt across the body each time she circled. On the second set, she sprinkled distilled water across it from a plastic bottle. The third, rock salt.


“Untilled earth, purest water, salt of timeless sea.
Under the moon of Shabbat, I implore you.
I stand unworthy, needing your grace though unfit to bear it.
Love is lost. Hope is lost. Evil walks these lands.
I have been no servant to you, but now I appeal to you as master of all.


“Make this vessel pure, worthy of thy truth.” With this statement Willow drew out a fine brush, gently pulled aside Tara’s hair with her right hand, and painted in the faint Hebrew letters אמת on her neck. As the last stroke was drawn the letters ignited, burning into the pale flesh. Willow’s hand shook and she dropped the brush, watching fearfully as the glowing letters smoked and faded to an angry brand below Tara’s hairline.


Angel’s curse was by its nature temporary because it tied a soul to something that was fundamentally dead. The golem ritual was intended to create the illusion of life in an unliving substance- or so it had done some two millennia ago. This should mean that Tara’s body could now function to hold a soul as if it were a living being. By altering Tara into something that was, while not precisely alive, not exactly dead and not dependent on a demon’s energy to animate it, a soul would have a place to hold. At least, that was the theory. It wasn’t exactly something you could try at home and see how it went.


The first part of the ceremony was done, though whether it had worked remained to be seen. Kabalic magic was new to her and didn’t have the rushing energy of weaving spells. It was almost impersonal- pure ritual that only required her as its initiator.


Working quickly Willow plundered her bag, pulling out the remainder of the salt she had brought. She set it aside long enough to squat down and laboriously turn over Tara’s cold body. Starting at the right foot she poured the remaining salt in the first line of a pentagram, linking earth and soul. She pulled on a pair of gloves to handle the mercury soaked string that connected earth and water, followed by a dribbled line of ether between water and air. With each line she murmured a prayer to the guardians of the four Watchtowers, and an entreaty to the keeper of souls for the fifth, until the pentagram was complete.


It looked wrong, but that had more to do with the combination of Chinese elements and Wiccan ritual than with any flaw in the plan. There were no corners that could be cut here, or the one to bear the consequences would be Tara. That was an unacceptable outcome. A set of small bowls was the next item she produced, and Willow hurried to fill them with her offerings at each of the points. The effort of holding the partially completed spell made her hands tremble by the time she finished, but she carefully contorted her fingers into the necessary gestures.


“縁が有りながら心と心を通じて…” It was as if every nerve had begun to awaken in a thousand discrete pin points of agony. This wasn’t the terrifying rush she’d had raising Buffy. No. This spell was on herself, in addition to Tara, and so more intimately excruciating as it began to take effect.


“この我魂を別けよ！” There was a wrenching in her head, in her chest, in the pit of her stomach as if the tingly, jittery feeling of before had exploded into the atomization of her very being. That the particles had scattered, reforming only haphazardly in her own body. Like sand held together with Scotch tape. Willow found herself on her hands and knees, not recalling having fallen. She could still feel her spell hanging in the air like a static charge waiting for a touch to ignite. Panic shot through her.


There was something missing. Something important.


She panted through clenched teeth, her eyes still burning in the aftershock of the spell she had cast. I had to alter the spells so much- if the mixed languages had faulted it…? God, please let it work. Please.


Willow forced her head up, looking fearfully at Tara’s sprawled form. It lay unmoving. No breath, no life… no change. Tears started to run freely down the witch’s face- this was all she could think of. There was nothing else to turn to. Nothing.


Then the body stirred and Willow’s heart leapt into her throat.


“Tara!” Her voice sounded harsh in her ears. At her voice, the head started to slowly lift, and the heavenly blue eyes opened in confusion.


“Wha…” Then the eyes focused on Willow, widening momentarily. Willow felt her tears turn from sorrow to relief. It was going to be OK. It was-


As her back slammed against the ground, her head bouncing painfully off the floor, she came to the belated realization that Tara had leapt at her as soon as the vampire had awoken. The force of the lunge had thrown Willow down beneath her. A deadly iron hand clamped across her mouth before Willow could so much as gasp.


“Thought you had me, baby- I really did." The words were spat from between clenched teeth. Her eyes bore down into Willow’s with intensity that could be either hatred or passion. Willow tried to center the strength within herself to push Tara away magically, only to find that she couldn’t. The sense of fragmentation within her was still too strong and it felt like every modicum of magic she had ever had within her was spent. Even the Hellmouth’s ambient haze was mockingly beyond reach.


Tara’s face was lowering to hers, now speaking softly, lovingly.


“But you gave me this idea- this epiphany. It’s so simple. We can be together, baby. My way.” Tara’s irresistible grip carefully forced Willow’s head to the side and she felt the cold lips kiss her neck with such gentleness. From this close she could even feel the air move as her love’s face shifted again into ridges.


Willow tried to scream, knowing struggling was useless as Tara’s fangs descended to her neck. The pain as they pierced her skin was nothing compared to the sudden wrenching sensation that tore through her. She felt Tara go rigid, helpless to move as the vampire threw herself away, scrambling backward until her shoulders hit the wall. Tara still tried to go further, pushing ineffectually as if trying to escape blindly. In a gut-wrenching switch of perception, Willow found herself staring from behind Tara’s eyes, unable to control her actions as her gaze darting frantically around the room. It lasted no more than a moment and Willow returned to herself, feeling weak, faded… spent… torn…


“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Tara’s shriek echoed in Willow’s ears, but she didn’t have the energy left to look up. She not so much heard as felt through the floor the thump that must have been Tara again falling fully to the ground. Then it was all gone in merciful unconsciousness.





---------
End Note: *The way I set up the golem invocation is probably not very translated-from-ancient-Hebrew sounding. The only things my research came up with were variations on the ritual itself. My apologies if anyone is offended by my ignorance… and if you want to volunteer to help me fix it, that's even better!



.Posted 12/18/09

[Zampsa1975]

Yay for great update-y goodness... I guess the spell effects didn't take hold immediately...

[Morrigan]

I love the introduction of Qabalic and Talmudic mysticism here. Especially with the built in sybolism of the name: Willow->Tree of Life. I actually had planned to use that in a fic, Willow learning the roots of Hebraic magic in her search for balance. And teh golem idea is brilliant.

One nitpick...you may wish to put the quotes that contain hebrew characters on a seperate line, as hebrew is read from right to left. But I'm not sure that will matter to anyone who isn't a language geek like me. *grin*

Eagerly awaiting the next....

[AmberGoddess]

Oooh I loved the Kaballic rites. Was it a blood rite as well that Willow didn't know about? That would explain why it didn't take effect until Tara bit her. Can't wait for more!

[NeverChosen]

Midweek replies!

Morrigan- Uh oh, did I spell everything wrong? Or is it like Munich vs München? My spell-check rejected every variation that I tried. I went with what I read most often during my week-or-two o' research- which had more to do with studies of mysticism and legends than current religion. The variations on the golem legend were interesting to read up on and glean bits from. Stories make a great excuse for looking up subjects I'd never think to read up on otherwise.
Gee, if the Hebrew lettering was backwards... maybe that was what went wrong! That's it! It wasn't me and my linguistic ignorance... really... -_-; I'll reverse it in-line when I do a final edit for the finished archive. At least I know that the Japanese is correct. Or, it's correct in the post-WWII writing of ancient grammar, when written horizontally. ^_^ I do have confidence in a few things.

AmberGoddess- Remember that there are a couple of different spells at work here. I don't think that the Kabalic part would involve blood ritual- the other part, though... well, more on that in the next chapter, though I don't think I ever explain it explicitly.


The final chapter is coming up on Friday.
-Never

[Morrigan]

Truth told, I have no clue about the spelling. I don't actually read it - it more a familiarity with the Semitic langiage family, that all are read and written from right to left. That may have been the issue for your translator...reverse the order of the letters

It's difficult to show that, interspersed in english, though, other than by putting the hebrew ona seperate line. And again, I do adore the. Original, and brilliant.

[NeverChosen]

Missing


Chapter 12: Reawakening


Legal: I don't own the stories, concept, characters, or anything else in BtVS. I own this story, but expect no financial gain from it.

Rating: PG-13 (thematic elements)

Summary: Willow awakens and deals with the effects of the spell on Tara.

Notes: Story stats: 12 chapters, 141 pages (formatted), and 47,467 words… not counting the Divergent chapters (9 chapters, 39 formatted pages, 13,496 words). Just because I'm interested, so maybe someone else is too. The completed story will get one last revision prior to archiving.



Willow wasn’t sure what time it was when she awoke- it could have been minutes or hours. The sky was still dark, judging from the lack of sunlight from the neighboring room. She felt an odd sense of displacement. What was she doing on the floor anyway? Pushing herself up shakily to a seated position, Willow saw Tara’s limp body against the opposite wall of the room and the events of the evening clicked back together. She put her hand to her neck, only to find scabbed over wounds and crusted blood that ran down to her stained shirt. It had been more than a few minutes then…


“Tara?”


Silence. What had happened? Willow felt a growing sense of dread. The ritual hadn’t gone as planned. Not that she had been able to plan for what had never been done before, but she should have felt it when the spell completed… unless something went terribly wrong.


I can't have killed her, I can't. Her body’s still dead, but she can’t be… dead-dead! She’d have turned to ash or dust, right? Not just lay still like a normal dead body-


“Tara!!”


Her voice sounded raw in her own ears. Tara was laying in a loose fetal position against the wall only a couple of yards away. Willow tried to get to her feet, only to waver and fall back as her equilibrium abandoned her.


Okay… Still major in the woozy category here. She righted herself awkwardly to hands and knees, fixing her eyes on her target. No matter- for Tara she would crawl.


Willow slowly crept to Tara’s side, throat tightening as her love's features came into view. Her expression was frozen in such desperate pain. Willow reached out tentatively to stroke the still face.


Baby, please- what else can I do…?


At her touch, Tara suddenly came to life, jerking away with wide eyes and a terrified whimper. Willow tensed for another onslaught, knowing she had no resistance left to offer. But the expected violence didn’t come. Instead the blue eyes focused on her, disbelieving and scared.


“W-willow?” Tara’s frightened eyes were rapidly filling with tears.


It had worked… just one word and Willow knew. The fear, the uncertainty, the vulnerability her voice had conveyed. It had to be. It was her. Her Tara, back at last.


“I’m here, Baby. It’s gonna be all right.” Willow moved forward to embrace her love, only to find Tara scooting away from her.


“N-no. I c-can’t…”


Willow’s face reflected clearly her hurt at the rejection.


“It’s not y-you.” Tara started to really cry, tears cascading from her eyes as she hid her face in her hands. “Goddess, what have I done? I-I-”


“The demon- not you.”


“It felt like me. My hands, my teeth.”


"It was the demon- never you. You couldn't. That's why it hurts so bad." Willow was pulling herself forward still, the action as much as her body would allow.


"I did. I remember it- not j-just what. Why I did it." Tara knew it all. Her memory was not a flow of pictures or an impersonal video from a camera mounted behind her eyes. It was the memory of experience. She remembered the motivation and questioning, the impulse and response, the decision and judgement. The deaths were not just a matter of killing. Each one was a story of reasons that she could not separate from herself.


"You can't believe it was you." Willow shook her head but her gaze never left Tara's. Tara dropped her eyes, trying to escape the scrutiny, but Willow immediately demanded them back. "Look at me- look. Can you tell me anything you say you did- would you do it now? Could you?"


"I don't know." It hurt to speak the truth. It burned her throat and pulled at her unbeating heart, but she had to let Willow know that there was no guarantee to be found here.


"I know. I know you better than that." The words were fierce, the conviction complete. "If anyone put up with as much as you did and came out of it as strong, as decent as you, they'd be up for sainthood."


“No- you don’t understand. Anything I’ve gone through… at least I always knew my heart was in the right place. Now I can’t even say that.” Tara’s hands were clenched around each other in her lap, her tears still dripping slowly on them from where she had stopped trying to wipe them away off her chin.


“I killed my father, I killed D-Donny… I didn’t just kill them, I tort-… I p-played with them. I enjoyed it. A-and even though I know it was wrong, I still can’t make myself feel sorry for what I did.”


“Believe me when I say that I understand,” Willow said firmly. “How many times did I cast a spell that you told me I shouldn’t? Did you think I never felt what I did was wrong? But sometimes the wrong thing is the best we can do in the circumstances we’re given.”


“But you never killed a human.” Tara said it through gritted teeth, her eyes clamped shut against the images she couldn’t keep from playing in her head. Not a human. So many, in so short a time. She'd even thought of it as restraint, not slaughtering more.


Willow went silent. Tara wasn't sure whether to hope she had finally gotten through to her or not. If Willow understood, not just how bad things were, but how much worse they could become… she would know there was only one real solution. The final solution, for any demon. Tara didn't expect Willow to do the deed herself. Tara would never make her do that. No, just her permission would be enough. Then Tara would find a quiet place in the park. Apologize to all those souls she could do nothing for as she waited for the sun to rise.


“It wasn’t up to you. It was up to the demon inside you.”


The words were said with infinite patience, as if speaking to a child. Her frail semblance of control fading, Tara's voice began to rise,


“But I couldn’t stop it! And that demon is still in me- that makes the guilt mine!”


“Buffy tried that line on me- and it doesn’t make sense.” The response was even calmer in the face of Tara's hysteria. Willow paused as she sought the right words. "It's like… you were driving, and the brakes failed. You crashed, somebody died… does that make you responsible?"


"You have no idea what I did." Tara refused to be comforted. Semantics could not deny the blood on her hands. A lawyer might get her acquitted, but the guilt would remain regardless.


"A demon has no brakes. Not even a reason to use them." Willow tried a different tact, "If you want to suffer for what it did through you, I get that, I really do. But if someone is going to suffer, shouldn't it be the demon that's still in there? The worst thing you can do to it is be who you are- what will hurt it most is the love and compassion that makes you who you are."


"I'm not a saint, Willow. I never was and I'm certainly not now."


“Nobody is perfect.”


“Not everyone is a bloodsucking murderer.” Her eyes were fixed on the blood crusted on Willow’s neck.


“Not everyone is a black-eyed, occasionally overzealous witch either.” Willow quickly amended herself, “Not that I’m saying that’s a good thing either, of course. But we can work through it. Together we can do it.”


“I… I don’t think I can…”


Tara reached out, touching tenderly the wounds her own fangs had made. They probably wouldn’t scar- it wasn’t a proper bite. Just one aborted as soon as blood was shared. Willow’s blood. She knew the taste now. She wanted more and felt dirty for the desire.


Willow reached up, hand covering Tara's. She drew it up and leaned her cheek against the palm. Her skin was so warm, the heat slowly permeating into Tara's cool fingers.


"This is probably the wrong way to say it, but if you can't… I don't know if I can." Now Willow's voice was starting to tremble.


"What do you mean?" Tara read something in those words. Something she didn't like the sound of.


"You…" Willow took a breath, swallowing. Her eyes dropped and for the first time she started to draw away. "If you were gone… I don't think I could…"


"Don't you dare." Tara felt her voice go cold. "Don't you dare make me responsible for you, too."


"When I found out you'd been turned, Tara, how do you think that felt?" Now she could hear Willow's constructed calm begin to fail too, the redhead's words becoming tinged with anger. Perhaps not directed at her, but present, none the less. "I died inside, Tara, and the only thing that kept the rest of me from following was the hope that I could save you."


Lay it all on me. If I fail you, I am responsible for what you do? What you do to yourself? Now the anger started to perfuse Tara as well. She found the strength in it to push herself to her feet, "I can't be that to you. I can't be your everything- even being me is too much. I can't-"


"Then pretend. I don't care." Willow was now speaking through gritted teeth as she tried to stand. She faltered and without thinking Tara found herself catching her, drawing Willow to her feet. It was clear that she couldn't support herself, so Tara half carried her to the couch.


"Tara- I don't know when it happened- when you became more important to me than life itself. I don't know how. But I will never regret that it did." The anger was gone, but the certainty was unchanged. "I love you. And it isn't fair to you, but if you chose to die now- what am I supposed to do?"


This she could answer. She knew the answer because she had lived it. Tara had been alone when her mother died- her family was there, but her mother had been everything to her. And somehow, Tara had survived. As she knew Willow would.


"Mourn me. Mourn what should have been." Tara found herself looking anywhere but at Willow. The floor was strewn with sand and salt, strips of paper lay in tatters in the corner. A shattered ink bottle. The empty syringe. "Nothing will make sense- it may never make sense. But it doesn't have to. And one day, you will leave behind the sadness long enough to find life again. All the things that make it worth the effort."


"Then why can't you?" Willow challenged. "Mourn the dead. Mourn what the demon has done to you. Stay with me and face tomorrow… and the tomorrow after that. I will help you any way in my power- you know I will. And I will be there beside you until the day you realize you don't have to mourn any longer."


The words were too reasonable, too tempting. It would be so easy to forget. Tara found her hysteria building again. “And what if it all works out?! Some day, all’s right with the world … just one moment of happiness a-and I go back to being bitey. You can’t just carry around an orb for the rest of your life.” Something in how Willow avoided her gaze made her stop. Tara waited for the redhead to fill the silence.


“There… isn’t an orb. What I did isn’t a curse.” Willow was fidgeting.


“Without the Orb- how did you..?” Tara was up and stepping backward slowly away from Willow as unease began to seep into her. Willow didn’t answer immediately.


“Soul splitting.” Willow said it softly, her eyes pleading Tara to understand. “You were always a part of me. I just gave some of that part back.”


“Splitting your soul?” Tara put the pieces together in her mind, then turned her eyes back to Willow suddenly. They narrowed accusingly even as Tara’s brow furrowed, not wanting to believe. “Dark magic.”


Guilt overcoming Willow’s features briefly before she protested in her own defense, “Neutral. Not dark. Grey, at least. How can it be wrong to give you a soul?! Part of my soul- it was mine to give!”


“You should have just staked me! L-let me rest in peace!” Tara shut her eyes against the misery. How many lives would it have saved, if Willow had done it, that first night she had returned? The worst of it was, Tara knew the answer to that question.


“In PEACE? How can you say that?!” Willow shouted through tears that started to flow freely down her face, “Is what I did so wrong that you’d rather be dead, no, not just dead, EVIL dead, than be with me?!”


“Yes! No… God…” Tara sank to the ground, her back to the wall, head down to her knees. “I love you. But I couldn’t be with you, not with what you were doing. Are doing. What you did to me. A-And I don’t know how to live with what I’ve done. Or with t-this thing inside me… It would just be so much simpler...”


“I don’t know what to do without you.” It was Willow’s little girl voice.


“I can’t live just for you, Willow. And I can’t live for me, not like this.” Now Tara was speaking with less emotion, trusting in the simple rational.

“You said you loved me… with every beat of your heart… every breath… I guess that means it’s over now.” Willow’s voice broke. She slumped down further into the couch, grief clouding her face. Tara knew the following silence was not one of calm, but only evidence of frantic thinking in the woman before her. The words, the space between them were suddenly too much and Tara quietly stood. Willow was staring unseeing, her eyes glazed as she focused inward. Tara sank to the couch only an arm's length away, Willow looking up when the cushion shifted as if surprised to find her there.


"I love you, even if I never draw breath again. Never, never doubt that. But I'm not who I was, Will… I remember, but… God, I don't know how to explain." Tara closed her eyes, trying to find the words. "I can't be who I was, having done what I remember doing. And knowing what you've done to yourself for me-"


“It’s like I said before- You complete me… now it’s just more literal.” Willow’s shoulders were hunched up, tense.


Tara found herself at a loss. There was so much that had happened. Could she just forgive what Willow had done, the lengths, or perhaps depths, she had gone to? But would she have done any different? If she had banished Willow from the house that night- sent her out into the darkness in more ways than one… could she have killed the vampire that walked in her place? Tara couldn't honestly say. In the abstract, the answer was simple. The reality could never have been so.


It wasn't likely she could have done what Willow had accomplished here tonight. Even the long-cold residue of the spell told her that much. Magics Tara had no name for, tools of traditions she'd never even seen were scattered about the floor. Not only never studied- never so much as encountered. In so little time, how had Willow done it? She had though. Willow could do anything she set that amazing brain to, but it wasn't the brain that did it. It was the heart behind it. Tara knew intimately that she meant well. She always meant well, no matter how wrong it went.


Realizing she had been sitting in silence for more than a minute Tara turned, finding frightened green eyes trained unwaveringly on her, waiting for her judgment.


“Promise me, Willow. No more black magic. None. Just… no spells unless you have no other choice.” She tried to impress on Willow what she was saying, “I-I just don’t think I can win against my demon if I have to wrestle with yours too.”


“I promise. We can do this. I can do this. As long as we’re together.” There was so much hope in those words, so much it ached to hear.


Tara heard the promise fall easily from her love’s lips, heard how quickly she had spoken. Did she really understand what she was saying? Did she know what she was asking in return?


"Just try. Please. Promise me you won't give up." Willow was pleading now, hope shining in her eyes now. Tara wondered if she could be worthy of that hope, or if her failure would destroy the woman sitting in front of her.


“I’ll try, baby, I’ll really try. I just can’t promise you anything that I can’t promise myself.” Tara felt her eyes squish up as if there were tears in them again, but she didn’t feel moisture collecting. Again, she had been too weak to make the right choice. She was clinging to hope she shouldn't dare to have.


“You aren’t doing this alone. You have me. And everyone- they’ll help.” Willow was leaning closer, her effervescent optimism starting to assert itself.


“We’ll call Angel first thing tomorrow- the real one. I mean, he’s kinda the authority on vampires with souls. Being the only one till now and all that. Although if you get all broody, that’s really a not good thing. But inner demons? He knows that.” Willow started to talk more rapidly, her mouth seeming to be trying to catch up to a whirlwind of thoughts, “And Spike’s not exactly the best role model, but he doesn’t even have a soul and he still does an OK job at pretending to be good. Even if it isn’t what he wants to do. Although sometimes I think he does, which is confusing, since he’s, you know, evil, but that’s not the point. It’s like, really, if you’re gonna be a vampire with a soul, this is the place.”


Tara watched Willow’s eyes light up, wanting to believe. And she knew from the forced smile that Willow was trying to convince herself as well.


When Buffy was dead and everything was going wrong, when Willow was holding everything together, Tara had asked her how she managed. Collapsing into her embrace on the bed they shared, Willow had told her a quote she’d found, “We become who we pretend to be.” She had pretended to be someone who could handle the situation, and in handling it, it became so. Tara only prayed she could do the same. She knew Willow was willing to help her- after her response to what Glory had done to Tara’s mind, there was no question of either Willow’s determination or resilience. But could Tara accept that kind of dedication again? Knowing what could happen if she slipped? Knowing that she had accepted the risk she presented to everyone around her, and that they had suffered for it?


Willow must have seen the darkness invading her thoughts again. She reached out, forehead crinkled in concern. "Baby?"


"So brooding is out?" She asked seriously. She could pretend... for now, at least. Seeing Willow beam back at her, she knew she had done the right thing.


"Not an option." Willow confirmed, drawing her close.


Finally, uncertainly, Tara accepted Willow’s kiss. Their lips met with long familiarity and startling newness. Tara felt the life radiating from Willow, a sense of warmth that seemed to infuse her as well, as much as any living blood had. As she basked in it, it dawned on her what Willow must be feeling. The lips of a corpse, cold and lifeless, pressed against hers, just as Walter's had felt that first night when he made her his family... She pulled away, ashamed, not wanting Willow to have to force herself to the contact.


Hand to her lips Tara averting her eyes from the disgust that would doubtlessly have come across her love’s features. After everything that had happened, she couldn’t handle that. Not yet.


“What’s wrong?” Willow’s voice sounded newly distressed.


Wrong? Everything was wrong. The pungent smell of blood wafting from Willow’s wounded neck, the sound of her heart, so close that the pounding threatened to drown Tara in its tide. It had been too long since she had fed to ignore it.


“H-how can you love me- like this.” She spat out the last word.


“I love you. Stuttery you. Witchy you. Pancake makin’ you. Any ‘you’.” Willow took one of Tara’s hands in hers, cradling it.


“Bloodsucking, undead me?” She asked bitterly.


“Well, there is a kinda kinky appeal to it,” Willow said with grudging interest.


“Willow!” If Tara could have blushed, she would have, her mouth hanging open at the suggestion.


“I’m just saying…” Willow muttered, chagrined.


“This isn’t a joke, Will. This is a demon, a very real demon, that is a very real part of me-.”


“Which will be punished very sternly with lots and lots of no-evilness restrictions. A-and warm fuzzies. Demons hate warm fuzzies, right?” Willow said emphatically.


That coaxed a grin out, at last, but it faded all too quickly, lost beneath the echoing rhythm in her ears. That compelling pulse that promised... Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Don’t even think that way! Warm fuzzies? What this demon needed was a strong hand to hold it in line- oh God, that was familiar. How had he known?


“So in the end, my father was right…”


Willow answered only with a confused look.


“I was turned the night of my birthday, Willow. So, in a way, I really did turn into a demon.”


"It… it was that night." Now the green eyes widened. "That night- I drove you out. I did this-"


"No-" Even in her own ears, Tara heard the weakness of her denial.


"Goddess, Tara…" There was palpable pain in the words now, "I did this to you. It was my fault."


"No. I left, Willow. Me. I made the choice to disappear into the night and I knew what was out there."


"Because I scared you. I made you afraid of me."


"You did," Tara confirmed quietly. Willow knew that, denying it was futile. "But you didn't put your teeth in my throat. You didn't tear away everything that was good in me. That was a vampire. That blame can stay where it belongs. With him."


"Can I keep a little bit?" Willow protested plaintively.


"Only if it means I get foot rubs." Silliness wouldn't take away the doubt, but neither could anything she said. It was something Willow would have to find her own way through.


“What did I ever do to deserve you?” Willow sighed ruefully, half-smile belying the troubled thoughts that must still be running through her. She was trying, though. Pretending, as Tara was, that it could be OK. Each being strong for the other because they could not be strong enough for themselves. It made her think of a Roman arch- interlocking, each side leaning on the other to form a better whole.


This time it was Tara who moved forward and captured Willow’s lips, in the process managing to overbalance them both and crash off the couch. Almost oblivious to the sudden change in posture, Willow's tentative tongue grew bolder. Tara wasn't sure whether to be bemused or saddened that her lover immediately probed for her concealed fangs, but as their kiss continued it stopped mattering. Tara disengaged their lips as Willow gasped for breath on the floor beneath her. She realized guiltily that she had lost any awareness of how long her partner could go without air.


“Good thing there were cushions down here, missy, or you’d have given me a concussion!” Willow teased, still breathing hard to make up for lost air but making no move to change position.


“Sorry- I still… I’m s-sorry.” Tara started to retreat as her face clouded. Willow kept hold of her, gently urging her to stay put.


“But I’d have died happy. Come here you.”


Even if it was not perfect, the beating in her ears being Willow’s heart rather than her own, Tara finally felt like this was do-able. Things could never be as they were before, but when did they ever stay the same? It was the way of time, to move things in its flow and shape what was in its path. She knew that they could weather the troubled times ahead, kept afloat by moments like this one until a calmer horizon could be found.


The journey there would be a story all of its own.


Fine Et Initio

[Füchsin]

Wow

<< speechless

Great Story - i'm hoping there is a sequel in the next year

[Morrigan]

Very nicely done. I like that they still have work to do...that there are challenges ahead. It gives the ending a rich texture.

Bravo!

[AmberGoddess]

Ooooh. Aaaah. Sequel!

[Zampsa1975]

Yay for great update-y goodness... Good that both figured out that they are not perfect beings and they will have an interesting road ahead...

[NeverChosen]

Sunday evening replies...

Regarding a sequel, since it seems a common theme:
I did make a rather blatant reference to continuing the story, but I make no guarantee regarding the actual production of a sequel. When I started outlining a month or two ago, it seemed like it'd be something of a monster compared to this story. None of the issues I have left are things that are easily solved, or at least they shouldn't be. Making everything suddenly sunflowers and purring kittens would trivialize themes that deserve better. Anyway, I think I've intimidated myself with the task. There are two major arcs and some background stuff, against which is set the evolving relationship of our girls. I am a big believer in the situations not being the story- they are the setting and sometimes the impetus for the more important story of character development.
I should mention that, while I posted weekly, I did not write at that pace. I finished pretty much the entire story before posting, for fear of being unable to finish. What you see here was the result of 4 years of intermittent daydreaming/typing and a few months of filling in the blanks and playing with pacing. I want to write something that I'd want to read... which can be a pretty demanding standard. Then, at some point, I give up on perfection, say "Anything worth doing is worth doing badly" (quote attributed to Chuck Jones), and hit Submit. Yes, I know I have the self-esteem of tepid pond scum. I'm working on that. Besides, pond scum is a valuable cornerstone of an ecosystem... ^_^
The first two chapters for a continuation are written- they were originally part of this story, but I figured out that where I stopped was a much better place to end.
So, like I said, no guarantees, but the strong possibility does exist. It may take a while, though.

Fuchsin- Gee, I don't think I've ever struck anyone speechless before. *blush* Prompt continuation is unlikely, but all this encouragement is certainly making my ego purr. A purring ego makes me feel like people want to read what I have to say... which can lead to productivity.

Morrigan- I worried about the numerous lingering issues being in violation of the KB happiness clause... but not so much that I actually asked anyone in charge. I guess I fear violating the story's integrity more than having it removed.
Thank you for your thoughtful words, both here and in chat. Your commentary is important to me in that you specify what you are responding to. It instructs me, as well as encourages.

AmberGoddess- No promises! Though... all the votes of confidence are helping to override my overdeveloped sense of caution.

Zampsa- I think that one of the issues that will have to be faced is that Tara has been put on a pedistool by the people around her. She is the wise one, the steady one, the understanding one- the perfect mate, mother, friend... but she is only human (well, in this story she's a couple things besides human at the moment, but that's beside the point). Willow's imperfections are fairly easy to see- she is extroverted enough to show them regularly. Tara's are harder to see, but no less real.


Thanks to all for reading! I'll continue checking in for feedback...

-Never

[Füchsin]

I make sombody blush? *wuhuuuuh*

And YES - i want read what you have to say!
But no hurry - i can wait (even years)

PS: you don't have an Ü on your Keyboard? You can write ue - thats the same

Greetings Fuechsin