• Title: TACIT 7/?
• Author: StrangeQuark
• Feedback: Please
• Spoilers: Season 4
• Rating: NC-17
• Pairing(s): W/T, X/A, B/R
• Disclaimer: I don’t own them, and as a result, make no money from this endeavor.
• Summary: Season 4, off-screen moments, empty spaces filled in, a lot of angst, tribulation, and tenderness that could not see the light of day on network television.
Tara woke up slowly. She felt Willow’s weight upon her body. She could feel a few errant strands of red hair clinging to her lips and chin. Her limbs were wrapped around the warm body that blanketed her. She tightened herself around Willow as she stretched herself into wakefulness. She felt the redhead sigh upon her chest.
Willow rolled to her side, gently released from Tara’s embrace. She looked into Tara’s eyes fleetingly, shyly. “Snuggles again.” She said with an uneasy smile forming across her lips. The witch looked back at her, her eyes still half-hooded from the slumber that she was gradually emerging from. She managed to return an equally tentative smile.
Tara left her bed, stretching ceremoniously as she walked to her dresser. She opened one of the drawers and removed something, making a point to conceal its presence from Willow’s gaze. She walked back to where the hacker lay, and sat next to her on the bed, her legs crossed, and her head down.
“I think that you should have this. It’s imp-portant to me.” The witch asserted nervously as she presented the Doll’s Eye Crystal to Willow. Her voice was soft, yet charged with emotion.
“For me.” Willow replied in a near whisper. She would not refuse it a second time. She didn’t really want to refuse it the first time. She extended her hand and took the gem, holding it up to the light that spilled through the window and into the room. “Thank you.” The redhead said as she thought of the flurry of desire that had overtaken her last night. Willow gazed into the crystal for a few moments, her thoughts gaining momentum.
“I’m sorry about last night. I was kind of out of control.” Willow offered into the silence that surrounded them. “I’ve been kind of weak in the whole ‘control department’ lately.” She added with a shy smile.
Tara turned to her and her lips were drawn into the lopsided smile that Willow longed to see. “I h-had some restraint problems too.” She blushed as she replied. “It was nice though. Right?” Tara’s last word rang with desperate uncertainty that made Willow’s heart ache.
Willow covered one of Tara’s hands with her own, looking into the blonde’s eyes. “It was really nice.” She replied in a warm, approving tone that was barely above a whisper. The redhead’s eyes darted away, quickly.
“Tara, I’m…” Willow started and then paused for several seconds. “I’m not sure, what I’m doing. Everything is kind of… new to me.”
Tara stared blankly at her crossed legs. Her fingers were absently smoothing the warm, wrinkled cloth of the pants that she was still wearing from the day before. She began to realize how selfish that she felt she was being, and just how disadvantaged Willow was. After all, Willow was the one in uncharted territory.
Tara’s courage grew slowly. “There’s some stuff that we should… um, you know, talk about.” She stated with some timidity.
Willow was not ready to talk, but she decided to ignore her instincts for a change and jump in anyway. “Okay, would you like to start?” She asked.
Tara looked down, shyly. “I-I want you to know that I think you’re… you know, really w-wonderful.” Her face turned beet-red as she spoke. She reflexively hid behind her hair.
Willow smiled. She was so moved by the statement. She was ‘wonderful’ to Tara. Her heart seemed to flutter as the sweetly shy declaration played over and over again in her mind.
Willow placed her hand on one of Tara’s knees. “I think that you’re more than wonderful…” She said with her gaze fixed on Tara. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments. Willow felt her cheeks flush when Tara’s eyes had looked up and met hers for that split second. She felt a great relief as she realized her admission. It was an admission not only to Tara, but also to herself.
“Beautiful.” Escaped from Willow’s lips with just enough breath behind it for Tara to hear and comprehend the word.
Tara felt like she was going to cry. For a long time, she hoped that someday, someone would say something like that to her. Before the tears had started to run down her cheeks, she found her head cradled in Willow’s arms, her face held comfortingly to Willow’s chest.
The hacker gently stroked the hair of the girl in her arms, the girl that meant so much to her. “What’s the matter?” She asked softly.
The blonde pulled her head up, sniffling. She was trying to regain some composure. “It’s my… I’m…” Tara tried to speak. She slowly got up from the bed, and walked over to the window, gazing out absently. Willow watched her walk away, concern and curiosity overtaking her thoughts.
“There’s some other stuff that we should t-talk about.” Tara shifted the conversation. “There’s something about that book that I showed you…it kind of, has something to d-do with me.” She added nervously, her eyes pointed downward.
Willow started to feel very uncomfortable. She was getting upset at the obvious fact that something was bothering Tara. It almost felt to her that Tara was feeling a burden of blame. She had detected a deep shame in the witch’s voice.
A concerned look crossed Willow’s face. She tried to offer an answer that would put the blonde at ease. “It may have to do with all of us. Giles and I found out even more stuff yesterday. There’s a very powerful demon that was um… confined, about seven hundred years ago. Her name is P’erDa’arulh, and she may be ‘breaking out’ of her prison.” Willow informed Tara. “Giles thinks that he’s been able to translate that her influence will manifest itself in ‘ordained chaos,’ and that fellow demons will see her sign in ‘vitreous elements.’ I’m pretty sure that the last part refers to glass, or maybe like, eyeball fluids?” The redhead concluded her disclosure with her eyebrows upturned in uncertainty.
“So, when is she supposed to come?” Tara asked nervously. The new information had distracted her from telling Willow what she needed to. She lost her resolve, and decided to keep her secret a little longer. A choice that was much easier to make now that the focus of their conversation had been diverted.
“We don’t know. I’m hoping that the book that you found may be related to this, maybe even hold the answers to all of the questions that we have about P’erDa’arulh. Anya and Giles both described seeing sequences of numbers, repetitive patterns. They both saw them in glass. Mr. Mysterious Book seemed to be full of the same stuff. There’s got to be a connection…” Willow trailed off.
Tara broke the gaze that she had kept with the world outside and walked across her room. She rifled through the contents of her laundry bag, finally removing the old book. She winced preemptively as the rough fabric touched her fingertips, expecting to feel a flow of dark energy abrade her mind with the contact, but there was nothing. It was just like any other book. She slowly walked back to her bed, looking carefully at the faded red cloth that covered the book. She unceremoniously handed it to Willow, part of her very happy to get it out of her room, part of her regretting that Willow would eventually discover the truth about her.
Buffy arrived at the room that she shared with Willow. It was still early in the morning, and she had just left Riley’s place. She noticed that Willow’s bed, like her own was neatly made, and un-slept in. Willow opened the door behind her, and entered the room.
The Slayer had asked Willow where she had been all night, and noticed the very agitated tone that her friend had taken when answering the question. Buffy knew that something was definitely ‘up’ with Willow. She decided that it must be the fact that she hadn’t been around much for her lately.
Buffy noticed her friend place an object on her dresser. She had placed the magickal-looking item there in an almost sly manner, purposely. The Chosen One felt a twinge of suspicion at the guarded action of her roommate.
“Have you found out anything more, about that ‘Pierre-de-Raoul’ character.” Buffy asked, trying to shift their conversation from the uneasy place where it seemed to have led. “Willow?” She asked when her original question went unanswered.
“Oh, sorry. Um, I’ve got something that may hold some more info about her. It’s a book that I… found. I could be wrong, but I have a feeling that it’s part of the whole demon break-out-y thing.” Willow replied after some few seconds.
“A book? Where did you get it?” The Slayer asked with an unmistakable edge of suspicion entering her voice. She looked Willow straight in the eye. “Have you been messing around with spells all night? Is that what you’ve been up to?”
“Buffy, this isn’t ‘cause of anything that I did.” Willow snapped back, her brow furrowed. “Just because I messed up a few times with some spells doesn’t mean that every time I…”
“You blinded Giles! Xander could have been killed! I was going to marry Spike!” Buffy angrily interrupted the redhead.
Willow quietly looked to the floor. Buffy was right to assume that this could be another one of her misdeeds. Unfortunately, she had set several precedents.
“Buffy, I don’t know what’s going on, and I intend to find out. I will work on it this afternoon with Giles. I guess I deserve the whole ‘Willow screws up the magicks’ speech, but this is more like a math-y, number-y thing. I-I don’t remember ever causing trouble with math.” Willow punctuated her statement with a smile, trying to coax the Slayer into a less angry mood.
Buffy paused for a few seconds, and the smiled at her brainy friend. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m sure that you’ll be more careful now.”
Tara had finished her morning rituals; showering, brushing her teeth, combing her hair, selecting her clothes. She felt normal again. She knew that the book was gone, and with it, the dark energy that it seemed to emanate. She smiled as she looked into her mirror, trying to decide which way she was going to style her hair. She actually saw someone beautiful looking back at her. She saw someone who was lovable, someone who finally belonged to someone. She felt like singing. She needed music, and decided to go somewhere that she could select from a wide variety.
She had two hours until her first class of the morning, so she decided to go over to the small coffee shop that was just across from the campus. She wasn’t going for the coffee, though. She remembered the old jukebox that filled the small place with scratchy old sounds from real vinyl records. She remembered sitting in there the day before last, her depression at its depths, and suddenly being touched by the simple, unassuming song that someone must have selected for play. She had to hear it again.
The witch entered the cozy, dingy little building; her eyes casually glancing at the various amateur paintings that hung along the walls, all different sizes, genres, and skill levels were represented. She sat at a small, round table in the corner near the jukebox. The smell of stale tobacco and hot coffee was thick and almost pleasant. A waitress took her order, a ‘Dutch Coffee’ as the house called it, and she left her seat, walking toward the antique music machine. She looked through the record titles, trying to find one that she could identify as belonging to the tune that had enthralled her so the other day.
She had finally found the song that she wanted and needed to hear. She placed a quarter into the old machine, selected her record, and returned to her seat. Her coffee was waiting for her, steaming hot and wonderfully aromatic. She sipped slowly, savoring the song that played through the smoky air more than she enjoyed the sweetness of her beverage.
As the final piano notes rang-out, Tara imagined singing this song for Willow. It was so simple, and it seemed to sum up her needs so elegantly, in a way that she never could. She sighed as she smiled to herself. She was in love.
In Giles’ living room, Willow tapped away at the keys on her laptop as Giles prepared some tea in the kitchen. She had the unmarked book open, to her side. Though the former librarian told her that she was probably wasting her energy trying to make sense of something that was only speciously associated with their impending danger, she continued to try to make order appear from the apparent chaos of the cryptic little book.
She had used different-colored pens to mark the unnumbered pages. With only five colors at her disposal, the discovery process was going very slowly. She created an application to run on her laptop that would help her find patterns in the sequences, but she found herself debugging the home-brewed utility more than actually using it.
“Willow, you should stop and have some tea. I’ve got those cookies that you enjoy so much, with the figs in them…” Giles tried to tempt the girl into taking a break. He felt that she had been pushing herself too hard lately.
“Okay. You had me at ‘tea,’ actually.” Willow joked in a weary voice.
Giles stopped to think about what the redhead had just told him. Several seconds passed.
“Yes, right!” He finally exclaimed with a smile, looking almost proud that he had ‘gotten’ the joke, and looking even prouder at the thought that he could site the source of the pop-culture reference.
Willow giggled at both the delay and the reaction that she had provoked, as she bit into one of the soft cookies. She absently gazed at the haphazard pile of square snack-bars that were resting on the dark green earthenware plate where Giles had left them. Her brain began to buzz with small, disjointed fragments of thought. The small pieces formed an idea, and the idea almost lent itself to a sentence. Too inspired to vocalize her idea, she set herself to work.
Willow quietly started to arrange the cookies into a neat, orderly matrix. It was five cookies across, and five tall. Giles looked on in wonder, then suddenly started to fill-in the incomplete section of the fig-filled matrix that Willow was constructing.
Willow and Giles stared at their carefully arranged pastries, and then looked at each other.
“Of course!” Giles exclaimed in an unrestrained whisper. His eyes grew wide.
Tara had skipped her classes. She had gone straight from the coffee shop to catch a bus to the downtown area. She wasn’t as afraid of using the bus to get around since Willow had taught her a simpler way to read the complicated schedules. The blonde witch sighed quietly as she thought about how patient Willow had always been with her.
She had two places to go, the magick shop and the used record store. She needed ingredients for a spell, and she needed to get her hands on a recording of that song. She chanced to find what she needed at the record store, and decided to forego the magick shop entirely due to her previous embarrassment there. With some money left over, along with most of the day, thanks to her truancy, she decided to walk to the park, buy some popcorn, find a secluded bench, feed the birds, and simply watch life go by.
As she sat on the park bench, casually looking at the passers by, she tried to tune into reading their auras. It was something that her mother had taught her to do when she was little. She had never fully appreciated the gift until more recently in her life. Some people had very thin ones, some were washed-out, some were vivid, and they were all unique. She thought about Willow’s aura, how it changed, how it undulated and seemed to ‘bubble.’ She could feel Willow’s power. She could feel the light and dark magickal currents that seemed to flow freely through the little redheaded conduit. She could feel the lusty vampire, she could feel the nerdy hacker, and she could feel the sad, lonely girl. She loved all of them.
Willow was hard at work on the task of developing her application. The application that would help her to decipher what she felt had become the bane of her existence; that title-less book. Her normally neat desk looked as though it had been ransacked. The surrounding floor was carpeted with a jumble of photocopies taken from the small, cryptic book.
She had worked on this for hours. Ever since she and Giles had shared their revelation. She felt a sort of manic delirium as her thoughts began to interlock, each little piece snapping into its place, to form a much greater whole. She quickly thumbed through the pages of the strange old book. Her ad hoc page numbers had given her the idea. “Five colors, five fig squares…” She said out loud. She busied her fingers again at the keyboard of her computer. “Darn it!” She exclaimed. Her fingers couldn’t type fast enough to keep up with the stream of thoughts that she had so tenuously connected. She felt as though she was finally on the right track. Her utility would be able to work now.
She unleashed her newly revised program upon the first twenty-five scanned pages of the book. She waited anxiously, shaking her legs and fidgeting in her chair. Her application slowly plotted its text output into the fluorescent glow of her laptop’s display, one character at a time.
Willow grew uneasy as her mind divided the continuous string of characters into words. She struggled to translate the Latin sentences as they revealed themselves. She knew that she needed to show this to Giles, right away. With her laptop still working on the task, she carefully folded it shut and headed for the door.
Anya, Xander, and Buffy were sitting in Giles apartment before Willow had arrived. As the hacker entered, laptop tucked into her arm, she stopped abruptly in the doorway.
“What?” she asked the silent group that had focused all of their attention to her sudden appearance.
No one spoke for several moments. Giles removed his glasses and walked toward Willow. The other three watched with what appeared to be caution as the Englishman approached the small redhead.
“Willow, there’s something that we need to discuss with you.” Giles said calmly as he gently led the girl by her elbow to sit in one of the armchairs of his living room. Willow scanned the other faces, looking for some indication as to why the eyes of the group were so suddenly trained upon her.
“What?” Willow asked again, hoping for an answer.
“Willow,” Giles started as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and polished his glasses absently with it. “This book that you’ve been studying… where did you get it from?”
The redhead panicked a little, trying to formulate an answer to what seemed like a simple question.
“Come on, Will. You can be honest with us.” Xander offered in order to coax the girl into volunteering the information.
“A friend.” Said Willow, knowing that she didn’t want to go into any more detail.
“This… friend, did they tell you what it was?” Buffy asked with a rather cold undertone to her voice.
“No. What’s going on? Why are you all looking at me like that?” The agitated Willow asked the group.
“Well, it seems that the word on the street is that you’re going to unleash a demon if you try to unscramble that book.” Xander informed his redheaded friend, with a touch of anger in his tone.
“This is very tense. She’s learning that you’re all mad at her.” Anya issued her typical spectator’s point-of-view.
Xander, Buffy, and Giles all turned to glower at the fair-haired ex-demon.
“And now you should be able to understand how she feels.” Buffy snapped.
“Y-you’re mad at me?” Willow squeaked nervously.
“Buffy said that you were gone all night, and you had some kind of magical crystal with you. Hardly the type of study aid that you’d need at the science library.” Xander spouted.
The former librarian raised his hand, as to politely silence the group.
“We’re not angry with you. We’re just concerned.” Giles calmly told the hacker, gently resting his hand on her shoulder. “Will you come with me for a moment? I need your help in the kitchen. The microwave oven keeps flashing twelve o’clock.” He asked her with a subtle wink.
The others looked at each other, confused by the mild mannered Englishman’s strange shift of topic. Willow quietly followed Giles into his kitchen, her head down, her eyes looking at the floor.
“I’m afraid that this appears to you as an ambush. It’s not.” Giles admitted softly, so that their conversation would stay within the kitchen. “That book is very dangerous. A friend of mine at the Watcher’s Council telephoned this afternoon, positively identifying it. It was stolen from their archives some three years ago. Where did this ‘friend’ of yours get it from?”
Willow whispered back, “I don’t really know… I could ask her.” She paused. “I think that I may have been able to decipher it.”
“Dear God, no.” Giles sighed.
“Well, maybe just the first couple of pages.” Willow tried to reassure the older gentleman.
“What have you seen so far?” Giles anxiously queried.
“It’s in Latin. I was hoping that you could translate it. You’re much more fluent than me.” The redhead admitted with more than a touch of humility.
“I’ll do nothing of the sort. To actually read the messages in that book… It would release untold chaos.” Giles admonished gently and firmly. He looked down to the young, innocent girl, her expressive eyes looking up to him. The lines in his forehead softened. He looked warmly at the bright, enthusiastic girl that stood before him. “What I’m trying to say is that… you’ve done a good job, as always.” The Englishman awkwardly stated as he patted Willow’s back gently, leading her out to join the others in his living room.
“Willow, we’re all sorry about doing the whole ‘gang-up’ thing on you. We’re just worried about you. You’ve been kind of all secret-y lately, and we thought you might be getting into something far worse than willing me and Spike to get ‘hitched’ in Vegas.” Buffy smiled as she made her statement on behalf of the group. “We’re all worried about you, since… well, you know.” She inelegantly concluded her speech.
Willow smiled to the others. “Thanks for, you know, caring.” She said quietly and kindly her eyes pointed downward. “I should probably get going. I have to tutor someone tonight.” She lied as she gathered her computer into her arms and left.
Ethan Rayne grew impatient. He had unloaded the stolen merchandise over a week ago, and he was growing impatient. It was bad enough that he had been locked up for eleven hours in that detention facility, and he’d used most of his available power to escape. He needed to ‘recharge’ and he didn’t want to wait any longer. Humming tunelessly, he carefully dusted the wares on the shelves of his ‘new’ magick shop.
He had ‘persuaded’ the store’s previous owner to take a long holiday in another dimension. He paused in his custodial duties as he reflected gleefully on the success of his first sale.
The girl had walked in, off the street, gathered some minor ingredients for some inane spell, and by his good fortune, decided to purchase the book that he had so desperately wanted to sell. The power of the book was something that he didn’t dare release himself. He had figured that some poor fool would be eager to do it for him.
He had placed a simple curse on the innocent, gawky girl. His hand had fed the malediction into the girl’s blood when he had so ‘helpfully’ grabbed her wrist to stop her from placing the book in the shopping bag. He giggled to himself at the sheer ingenuity of the diversion.
He had hoped that she would have been quickly transformed. Her darkened blood and the thrall of the book would enter a sinister harmony. She would become the living form of P’erDa’arulh, from whom he could feed and regain his chaotic power. Or, she would simply loose her mind. The optimist in him was still hoping that the emergence of the darkest she-demon would be the outcome, so that he wouldn’t have to find the book and go through this all over again with some other hapless simpleton.
Tara wanted everything to be perfect. Although she had no confidence in her abilities to flawlessly execute anything, she tried to remain optimistic about the evening that she was planning. It may be her last one with Willow, she thought, her heart stinging a little in response to the idea. She quickly tried to quell the negative thought.
They had agreed to perform a spell, one that Willow had suggested days before. Tara managed to get the redhead’s attention off of that particular conjure, but knew that eventually, Willow would have to find out the truth. She didn’t want her to find out in this way, but the blonde’s own cowardice and desperation had left her with no other options. Willow would see Tara’s demonic energy. She would learn the truth that Tara tried so hard to conceal from her.
She took a deep breath, trying to dismiss the dismal, parasitic thoughts that gnawed at her. She looked upon her reflection, scrutinizing her appearance. She felt a thrill at the sight before her. There was still a very attractive young woman looking back at her, just as she’d seen that morning. She blushed slightly, feeling embarrassed at her own vanity. It was a new feeling for her, and she had guiltily enjoyed it.
She could feel Willow approaching. She knew that she was moments away. Her stomach felt as though it were full of mosquitoes; butterflies were too pleasant an image to accurately describe the sensation. She was nervous, she was excited, she was passionate, and she was terrified.
Willow knocked softly at Tara’s door. From where she stood, in the hallway, she could smell the dry sweetness of Tara’s favorite scented candles. The unexpected, pleasant aroma calmed her. The door opened, and Tara was standing before her, smiling. She had a look in her eyes that took Willow’s breath away.
“Hi.” Willow chirped softly as she entered the room. She wanted to reassure Tara about the reason for her presence. She was concerned that the witch thought that she was mainly interested in spell casting and other excitement. She needed to tell her about her feelings, the feelings that she had yet to fully admit to herself.
Tara had lowered herself to the floor, sitting cross-legged, and Willow joined her. Their eyes found each other and remained locked in a gaze that neither of them could describe.
Willow’s ears perked up at the sudden sounds of a piano weaving through the scented air of the dimly lit room. Her eyes were still fixed on Tara’s. A sultry, smoky female voice wove a simple, yet serpentine melody over the piano chords. The words that the voice sang with such tender conviction seemed to plead to the redhead:
“Give me a kiss before you leave me,
And my imagination will thrive upon that kiss.
Sweetheart, I ask no more than this,
A kiss to build a dream on.”
Willow felt her heart miss a beat. She felt herself melting, a little, realizing why Tara had selected the song. It was such a sweet, simple request. One that had yet gone unfulfilled for both of them. The voice continued through the melody:
“Give me a kiss before you leave me,
And my imagination will feed my hungry heart.
Leave me one thing before we part,
A kiss to build a dream on.”
Tara’s earlier anxiety had long faded as she gazed into Willow’s eyes, the voice was someone else’s, but the message was hers. She felt the knees of their crossed legs starting to touch. She didn’t know or care which of them must have been inching closer to the other. The song shifted slightly in key, and the voice started a new verse:
“When I’m alone with my fancies,
I’ll be with you.
Weaving romances,
Making believe they’re true.”
Willow found her palms resting on the upturned sides of Tara’s knees. She was leaning further forward, slowly inching toward her lover’s face.
“Give me your lips for just a moment,
And my imagination will make that moment live.
Give me what you alone can give…”
The moment was delicate and delicious. Tara felt the warmth of Willow’s breath against her slightly parted lips. She was millimeters away; her hands had come to rest on the blonde witch’s thighs as she leaned ever closer. Together, they closed their eyes.
“A kiss to build a dream on.”
Their lips touched as the last line of the song trailed off, the delicate cadenza of the piano was their only accompaniment. The kiss was so delicate, so tender, that neither one of them could breathe for several seconds.
The redhead felt the full lips of her lover against her own. She savored the sensation as she slowly, gently let her bottom lip glide against Tara’s. The velvet-like smoothness seemed to send thousands of tiny sparks throughout her body. The gentle pressure against her mouth made her feel cherished. The slight space between her lover’s lips made her feel welcome.
Tara was lost, completely, in the moment. Behind her closed eyes, she felt as though she were floating in a sea of Willow. She felt the warm Willow-ocean currents caressing her face, her body, her limbs, her fingers, and toes. She would have drowned gladly, her lungs full of Willow, surrendering herself totally.
The two were connected so simply, so harmoniously, so intimately to each other that neither one of them would soon break the contact. Their lips stayed together until most of the scented candles had exhausted themselves, their light fading as gentle wisps of sweet gray smoke curled upward.
********************************************
That's part seven. Part eight is going to be done late this week. Thanks to all for taking the time to follow this story.
The song that is quoted is "A Kiss to Build a Dream on"
by,
Bert Kalmar, Harry Ruby & Oscar Hammerstein II copyright: 1935 Miller Music
***I've had to re-format this and repost due to some lost TABs
Edited by: StrangeQuark at: 8/27/03 8:17 pm
Eyes 
love sams x 
