SO here it is. The last chapter of the fic. I hope that you all enjoy it.
Chapter 39
Home seemed to be the place that Willow and Tara found safety and solace. The two months between their return and Patrick’s first visit to the family doctor were filled with new events. Abigail learned to ride a bike. Buffy learned to tend to the scraped knees and elbows of a five year old and to properly affix knee pads, elbow pads and bicycle helmets. Dawn and Anya taught Xander how to properly lose at Monopoly, the ex-demon learned to skillfully manage the banker’s vault. And the small boy continued to defeat the tall obstacle of climbing the stairs, each time celebrating with a wild dance of joy that marred the first three spindles of the upper landing.
Willow and Tara felt the warmth and love of family surrounding them every time the group gathered together. They’d spent the last few days at Brenda’s trial, filling in the moments between, with trips to their attorney’s office.
Brenda pleaded guilty to manslaughter, feeling no reason to fight for her freedom. Willow and Tara waited for the sentencing. The judge returned what the Wicca’s felt was harsh, considering the circumstances surrounding Donnie’s death. Tara’s hand tightened around her lover’s as the words “Twenty years in the California state Penitentiary” slipped from the Judge’s lips. In slow motion she watched the stone-faced response of her sister in law. There was no outrage for Donnie’s murder, only disappointment in a system that punished his victim.
Brenda never protested. She sat numb as the guards shackled her and escorted her to the Prison bus. The Judge allowed relocation to Los Angeles, making it easier for Patrick to visit. The only reaction Brenda ever offered during the entire trial was a silent headshake at the very idea of her son seeing her behind steel bars. She never spoke to Tara. Never mentioned her son.
She stared coldly out the window during the long ride to Los Angeles. The slamming jail doors forced a stiffening fear through her body, the harsh reality finally hitting her soul. The Corrections officer led her down the cold gray halls to cellblock K, cell number 483.
“Open 483.” The officer yelled through his mic. The door slid open and Brenda stepped through. “Got a new one for ya.” He turned toward the woman on the steel framed bed. “See if you can get along with this one will ya?”
He stepped back, calling out for the cell door to close. Brenda moved slowly toward the unmade bed, dropping her jailhouse linens, her vision swelling with tears as she pressed the salty enemies out toward the edge of her eyes. Her mind fighting hard to suppress every urge to show her pain, she folded the thick bedding over, flopping her exhausted physical form onto the cot.
The woman eyed her up and down, jumping toward the cold bars of her door. “Hey slim, give us a break here.”
“Back off.” He jabbed his baton through the cell door. “She’s here. She’s yours. Deal with it?”
“Hey I’m all kinds of good. Five by five.” She flipped her hair defiantly over her shoulder, grabbing the half extended baton. “Just wanted you to get her a pillow.” She shoved it back, throwing the officer off balance.
She flopped back down on her bed slinging her legs out in front of her. “Gotta name?”
Brenda turned away, looking at the bed she would use for the next twenty years. “It’s Brenda.”
“Oh, seems I can’t get away from the letter B.” She grinned, throwing her arms behind her head, enjoying the new company.
~~~
Willow and Tara walked quietly into the house, pausing at the dining room, sifting through the stack of letters on the table. Willow handed a yellow envelope to her wife. The blonde slipped her finger into the folded flap, ripping the letter open. “The contracts are here.”
“Oh, are you excited?” The redhead peered over her wife’s shoulder.
“I’m happy to make some use of the house Will.” Tara flipped through the pages, pausing on the sketches of the Bennett family house. She smiled, thinking about the changes that would come to the old building.
Willow whispered softly. “It’s going to change lives baby.”
“The house will hold good memories. That’s all that matters.” Tara placed the packet of papers down on the table, tracing her fingers across the title on the page. “Bennett house for teens.” She smiled, hearing the sound of her family filling the halls.
Tired from the trip, they made their way toward the echoes of laughter. Buffy, Patrick, Anya and Abigail sat in a circle on the back deck playing the modified "Ants In The Skirt". Anya flipped her insect wildly over the giggling boy; each time he tried slapping them between his palms. The women watched the circle, basking in the awkward tenderness that Anya displayed. They waited silently, afraid to disrupt the game.
Willow’s fingers rolled up the length of her lover’s arm, stopping at the edge of her sleeve. Her fingers twirled around the pale flesh delighting in the silken sensation against her own soft touch. Tara smiled as motion tickled through her body. She leaned into her lover’s embrace, feeling their bodies move tightly together.
Buffy caught a glimpse of Willow as the redhead wrapped her arms around her wife. The slayer watched out of the corner of her eye. She flipped all three of the molded insects into the sticker adorned plastic skirt. The slayer waited for Willow to protest the playing but it didn’t happen. Curious she turned toward her friends. “Up for a game?”
Willow cuddled in tightly. “I got my hands full, but we’ll watch.” She smiled, closing her eyes as Tara rested her head against her shoulder.
The children looked up at the women, delighted to see them. “Mom… Mommy!” Abbey kicked the game as her feet crossed over it. “You’re home!” Her tiny arms squeezed tightly around her parents.
Anya turned toward them giving a sour look. “I was on the verge of defeating the small one here.” She pointed toward the boy.
Patrick giggled at the ex-vengeance demon. “I like catching them.”
Tara delighted watching the broadening smile on his face. “I think auntie Anya likes flipping them.” She winked at the ex-vengeance demon.
Anya’s jaw dropped, stunned by the wordless communication, seizing the opportunity to blatantly misread the gesture. “Willow, I think you need to monopoly-ize your woman.”
The redhead’s eyes widened, attempting to step away from her wife’s embrace. “What?” She protested loudly as the children shifted their attention back and forth between the groups of adults.
“She winked.” Anya stated pointedly. “Your devoted beloved wife winked at me.” She turned back toward the game. “Seems like she needs something.”
“Could be.” Buffy smirked, supporting Anya’s teasing. The slayer watched Willow coil up, eager to attack like a threatened rattler. “Must have been awhile.”
“Since they played Monopoly?” Abbey innocently asked as her arms loosened from her tight squeezing. She turned slowly to look at the slayer. “I think it’s because they are doing that puzzle.” The tiny blonde rejoined the circle on the floor, carelessly crossing her legs in front of her.
“It’s puzzle building now?” The slayer exploded with laughter, watching her best friend squirm in the arms of her wife, waiting for the redhead to protest.
Willow collected her thoughts, knowing that whatever came next would forever kink the relaxing thrill of connecting intricately cut pieces of cardboard. “Yes… we build puzzles.” Her voice lingered on the final word.
“Uh huh!” The sound slipped endlessly from Anya’s lips, insinuating more than the entire Webster’s unabridged dictionary could say. “How many pieces?”
Caught off guard, Willow proudly returned a number. “A thousand.” She smiled confidently at her lover.
Tara corrected her. “Two hundred and fifty sweetie.” Her soft smile comforting the flustered redhead.
“Uh huh.” The sound escaped the ex vengeance demon once more. “How many days?”
“One.” The redhead spouted confidently, before looking at her wife. Her eyes caught the giggle as her ears heard the muffled tone of laughter.
Tara corrected, “Two and a half.” She looked at her wife. “Sorry sweetie but it took two and a half. But in our defense we have two small children that are very demanding and require much attention.”
“Uh huh.” Anya grinned, looking up at the slayer. “And where would you be assembling this all consuming, mind twisting work of art?” She turned quickly to watch the redhead searing with anxiety.
“In our bedroom.” She grinned happily, knowing she wouldn’t get the answer to this one wrong.
Tara tightened around her wife. “Very good sweetie.” The blonde knew exactly where the ex-demon was headed. She felt her lover fall into their embrace and then sharply stiffen as she realized her answer.
“On the table in our bedroom.” Willow quickly corrected.
“So you are doing it on the table in your bedroom?” The ex-demon snorted as she stared at Buffy. “I hope it’s a sturdy table.” She rubbed her hands together, feeling the warmth of verbal victory.
“Can’t beat a good sturdy table.” The slayer grinned, keeping her eyes fixed on the small boy, watching him flip his molded plastic ants at the skirt.
“Hey!” Willow collapsed, against her wife, exhausted by the verbal ping-pong. “Get off my table and stop thinking of kinky puzzle building. It’s not kinky! It’s the innocent fitting together of the bends and curves of fantastically odd pieces. Touching them. Turning them until the moment you slip the two together and the exactness of their connection completes everything, interlocking perfectly like no other two could.”
Tara softly whispered. “Will… sweetie…you should stop.” The sound of the blonde’s voice sifted across the fine hairs of Willow's neck, traveling along the edge of her flesh, awakening her body to the presence of desire. “You really are making their point for them.”
The redhead closed her eyes, basking in the energy of their love, feeling Tara move about her like the very essence of life. Her body fell numb, mute to the point of her last statement. “Am not.”
“Oh no… you really are.” Anya nodded. “I’m thinking right around the word 'touching' the whole thing took a wildly sexual turn. What do you think Buffy?”
“Oh definitely.” The slayer grinned wickedly. “Well wait. Maybe not touching. Maybe right around the bends and curves.” Her hand stretched over, reaching to flip a stray bug toward the goal.
“Perhaps…bends and curves are completely making the point first. Good command of the English language Will!” Anya raised a fist, punching the air in front of her. “Go you!”
The redhead glanced back and forth between her friends. “It’s a puzzle!” She turned toward her wife. “Tell them. Baby… tell them it’s only a puzzle.”
The blonde smiled at her wife, tenderly pressing a loving kiss on her forehead. Her hands traveled slowly along the length of Willow’s spine. She looked at their friends offering her best explanation. “Tell them?” A smile lifted from the corner of her lips.
Anya turned, recognizing the tone of Tara’s voice. “Yes Tara. Tell us all about your purely innocent moments atop the table, connecting tightly together with your wife.”
The blonde felt her lover squeeze with tension. With her mind she eased the moment. “Willow, sweetie. I love you. Remember that they love you too.” Tara looked at the rest of the room, stepping confidently away from her wife. She sat beside her friends, pulling Patrick into her lap. The small boy folded forward, reaching to flip the pieces of plastic. Frustrated he grabbed the toy and carried it away from the very distracting adults. Abbey opened her hand in front of Anya, quietly requesting her unused insects. She repeated the same to Buffy, satisfied, she and her cousin continued their game. The women stared at one another waiting for the blonde Wicca to speak.
“So spill already. We need our vicarious kink.” Buffy frowned, remembering how long it had been since she last dated.
“Yes Tara… kink us up.” Anya’s head turned toward the redhead. Willow rested against the frame of the patio door, watching her lover in action.
Tara took a deep breath. “Well first.” She hesitated, drawing their attention away from her wife. “First thing you have to do is unwrap the package.” Her fingers sifted together, palm to palm. “Willow usually goes first. I like to watch her hands move across the edges.” The redhead grinned, delighting in the moment. “Once that pesky wrapping is peeled away I love to watch her slowly lift the top. Sometimes she hesitates just before removing the last little bit. She knows how much I like the drama of suspense.”
Buffy’s eyes widened. Her head spinning as her mind struggled to focus. “We are talking puzzles here?”
“Oh totally!” Willow smiled.
“Shall I continue?” The blonde Wicca asked innocently.
Anya casually patted her mouth, insinuating her boredom with the entire story. “If you must?”
“Yes baby, please continue.”
“Where was I?” The blonde smiled sweetly to her wife.
“I was keeping you in suspense.”
“Oh right, you had just removed your top.” She corrected herself. “I mean the top. Revealing all of your wonderful curves.” She closed her eyes, delighting in the images of her wife. “So curves and puzzles.” She swallowed hard, focusing her thoughts. “So this is where my gorgeous wife takes complete command.”
Anya covered her mouth, rolling her hand across her lips to muffle the sound. “Pants!” She whispered toward the slayer.
“You bet your bottom!” Tara turned her attention to her wife. “She is amazing at sifting her hands across the pieces and pulling out just the right ones. I love her hands in action.”
“Do you now?” Willow pressed her tongue between her teeth, feeling the ache in her cheeks from smiling.
“Oh yes… every single slow moving touch.”
“Is it getting hot in here?” The slayer tugged at her collar.
“Not so much.” Anya mocked again.
“Oh baby, please keep going. I love it.”
“So then she spreads each bit out across the table. I love this part. Sometimes when the space is tight she pushes everything off. It’s a wonderful show.”
“Willow puts on a show?” Anya shook her head in disbelief. “Can’t see it. Just can’t see it. Been way too long since Wicca chick has put on any kind of display. At least a public one anyway.”
“I only do shows for my Lady.” Willow walked toward her wife, lowering her body slowly to the floor, she folded tightly against her lover. “Only for you baby.”
Tara felt the warmth against her. “So do I have to go through the entire innuendo of puzzle building or did you all get it?”
“Why?” Anya glared at the tightly intertwined women. “Feeling a need to work on slipping a few pieces together?”
The redhead glared at the ex-demon. “Hey!”
Tara pulled the soft flesh of her wife’s arms tighter around her. “Actually, if you’d like to know the truth. I was thinking I might actually skip the puzzle and throw my wife down on the table and make love to her endlessly.”
“Oh.” Anya didn’t flinch. Her hands fell to the floor; pressing her palms flat she pushed her body up, standing to walk toward the porch door. “When you say endlessly, that’s a metaphor… right?”
“Only in an until the sun comes up kind of way.” Willow smiled; satisfied her words would spark the exact level of envy in the former demon.
“Damn!” Anya hesitated in the doorway. “I need to seriously work on Xander’s technique.” She pouted, stepping into the kitchen. The remaining women laughed at the blonde’s frustration. Anya poked her head back around the opening. “All night?”
“Over and over for the rest of our lives.”
Tara spoke softly. “Oh and Anya?”
“Something else you want to do?” The ex-demon hovered in the doorway. “Rub salt in my paper cut?”
“Well no but just to clarify, there was a number two.” The blonde Wicca spoke clearly, making sure her words traveled to the ears of the slayer. “Willow’s getting plenty and you’ll never have to worry about me needing more.”
They watched Anya twist through the doorway, mumbling endlessly about the rest of her life. Buffy seized the moment to make her exit. “I think I’m going to feed the hungry miniature masses.” She stepped toward the kitchen. “You two coming in or are you going to do a bit of puzzle building?”
Willow pondered seriously for a moment, then dreamily replied. “We have a date in the garden. After that who knows.”
“A date in the garden?” Buffy stared with confusion, her hands rubbed hard from temple to cheek as she tried to solve the puzzle metaphor.
The Wicca’s paused, watching. “Full moon Buffy. We’re going to bless the stone in the garden.” Willow reminded gently.
“Oh… right.” The slayer pulled her hands through her hair, twisting it away from her face. “I’m doing bedtime duty then. Sorry my bad.”
“It’s okay Buff.” The redhead stood from the porch floor, walking over to her friend. “The sentencing really threw off the days for you I know.”
“It did. I was meaning to ask.” The slayer leaned against the doorway. “How did it go?”
They turned their attention to the children, watching them romp wildly through the yard, the small boy doing his best to skip with his cousin across the cobblestone walkways.
“Twenty years.”
“NO!” Buffy’s eyes fixed on the tiny boy. “How?”
“She didn’t want to fight.” Tara turned away, hiding her unhappiness.
The slayer shook her head, disgusted by Brenda’s actions. “Not even for him?”
“Not even for her.” Tara brushed the tears from her eyes. “But she’s in L.A. So maybe one day she’ll be ready to see him again.” She shadowed the porch railing, running her hand along the length of the vertical column. The thick vapor of evening dew moved in across the yard. “Not now though.”
The redhead moved in to comfort her lover. “It’ll be okay baby. We’re here for him. We’ll be here for him when it gets tough.”
“It’s not the same Will. You know it’s not the same.” The blonde Wicca wiped the stream of tears from her cheek. “He has so much to survive.” She watched her daughter take the small boy's hand, leading him into the sacred garden circle. Together they sat on the length of the stone altar, Abigail creating a fantastic story of wild adventure, all the time keeping full attention on her cousin.
Buffy walked into the house, leaving the women to talk privately. The slayer stood in front of the kitchen sink, watching, vowing to protect her family with every last breath. “He’ll more then survive Tara. I promise you that.”
The slayer moved about the kitchen, preparing a full meal for the family. After a short time she called the children into the house. Happily serving them dinner. She wrapped two dishes of food, carefully stacking them in the microwave oven. Her focus shifted back to the kids, as she sat beside them content to discuss the treasures they’d uncovered in the backyard. Buffy’s eyes drifted out the kitchen window, briefly noticing the flickering dance of candlelight coming from the sacred circle in the garden. She sighed, content their lives were continuing their forward momentum.
Willow watched her lover travel around their sacred circle, the radiance of the full moon illuminating the ring of stones, creating a endless loop of light. She watched Tara run her palm across the jagged flagstone. She closed her eyes remembering how they’d planted it in the ground, a continual reminder of their blessed life together. A mark of survival, a hand etched tribute to a life gone but still alive in her beautiful wife and gentle daughter.
Tara stopped in the center of the circle, captivated by the moonlight flowing across her wife’s firey tresses. She rested against the stone altar, wondering what drifted through her lover’s thoughts. She looked at the night sky, estimating the perfect time to begin her blessing. “Willow?” Her voice broke the serenity of the evening.
“Yes baby.” She smiled. “I was just thinking.” She carried the Bennett book of shadows tightly in her arms, pressing it firmly against her body.
“Thinking?” Tara walked toward her.
“How fantastic you look with the moonlight against your hair.” She pressed the tip of her tongue longingly between her teeth.
“Willow.” Her voice lingered on the name. “You were not.” She wrapped her arms around the soft curves of her wife’s waist. “Tell me.”
“Tara.” The edge of the book pressed against her hip. “I…” She hesitated. “Ouch!”
“You ouch?” The blonde pulled away, looking at the book between them.
“Book ouch.” She flipped the thick volume between them.
The blonde grabbed hold of the binding, taking it tenderly from her wife’s grasp. She shifted the weight against the curve of her hip, tucking the book tightly to her side. Her hand slipped softly against the arch of Willow’s back, taking firm hold. Her fingers lay against the warmth of her wife’s flexing muscles. The connection; flesh against flesh melted the redhead alongside Tara’s body. “Better?”
Willow’s thoughts fell dizzy to the sound of the blonde’s voice. “Much.” Her lids swept closed against her eyes as Tara tenderly pressed their lips together.
“Hey dreamy eyes. You ready to start?” She felt Willow relax in her embrace. “Full moon is coming sweetie.”
“I know. I can feel it.” Her mouth turned up, a subtle satisfied smile lifted across her face. “Can you kiss me again?” She wiggled her brow, waiting for the blonde to react. “I’m weak and I think your lips on mine give me energy.”
“Do they now?” She gently dropped the book to the ground. Her arms took hold of the redhead’s waist, pulling their bodies tightly together. Tara cupped the soft skin of Willow’s cheek, rubbing her thumb across the pale freckled flesh.
“Now and forever.” She opened her eyes, watching the blonde move closer. Tara paused, lingering inches from her target. “Lips please?”
The blonde smiled. “You think I’m that easy?”
“Mmm hmm.” Willow raised both hands to Tara’s cheeks, guiding them back, weaving her fingers into the thick tendrils of blonde framing her lover’s face. “Lips please.”
“Since you said please.” She pressed a soft kiss to Willow’s lips. She pulled away, watching the expression on the redhead's face.
Willow pulled her back. “Please.”
“Full moon.” Tara gently reminded after the third please.
“It’ll come again won’t it?” She felt the blonde pull back. “Baby?”
“Willow, do you really want to toss the blessing aside for a few kisses?”
Before Tara could finish her question, the redhead was nodding her reply, the vigorous motion making the blonde giggle. “Sweetie.”
“Please.” Her green eyes begged.
She felt her lover pull away, bending to pick the book of shadows up from the dewy grass. Tara moved across the ground, respectfully approaching the garden altar. She laid the book of shadows out across the cold granite slab. Her fingers lingered lovingly over each page as she searched for a particular entry.
Willow’s eyes followed each motion, captivated by the slender fingers tracing across the heirloomed pages. Her breath hitched, caught by the simple motion as Tara swept a stray tendril of hair from the corner of her mouth. The redhead hungered for the same tender fingers to draw across her own. Tara began her blessing, calling the goddess to their sacred space. The candle flame flickered, dancing light across the blonde’s face. Willow stepped beside her, quietly observing her reverence for magic.
The thick aroma of incense lingered through the air, setting the perfect stage for blessing the garden. Tara read from the book of shadows, thanking the goddess for her presence, humbling herself to the forces protecting their family.
Tara turned the pages, carefully opening to her mother’s very personal entry. Willow watched the tears fall from the blonde’s eyes, knowing she was going to read the message.
“Are you okay baby?” She wrapped herself around the blonde. “You don’t have to read it out loud.”
“I really do Will. It makes it real. Makes her alive again.” Tara wiped her tears across the back of her hand. “I miss her.”
“I would have loved holding your hand and asking her if we could be married.” The redhead held her lover, pulling their bodies together. Tara rested her head on her wife’s shoulder, relaxing against the swell of emotion.
“She would have loved you.” Tara continued. She pressed her hands against the yellowed pages, reading word for word as her fingers trailed across the letters. “Tara, my darling child…” The blonde paused reclaiming the sound of her mother’s voice. “Our magic will always protect you, you are blessed with powers sacred to the traditions of Wicca. Respect them, respect yourself and every part of being alive.” Her eyes betrayed her, clouding with tears. She pressed her sleeves across her face, wiping them dry.
“Baby?” Willow lowered a hand to the book, continuing to read the entry. “One day you will share this with your family. I have seen. So shall you. Trust the Goddess my Daughter.” The redhead stopped, feeling the vibration of her wife's sorrow shaking against her. “Tara?”
“There’s so much I wanted to share with her Will.” She turned away from her wife, slowly lowering herself in front of the jagged flagstone. Her hands moved across the rock, letter by letter remembering her mother’s touch.
Willow stood in front of the book of shadows, wishing she could comfort her wife. Her eyes skimmed over the page, realizing she’d missed the obvious. “You’re like her.”
“Am I?” The blonde’s eyes lingered, waiting.
“You are, and so much more baby.” The redhead took her lover by the hand, lifting her into her arms. “She gave everything and you have taken it and honored it every day since.” They walked from the garden, toward the back porch. Willow lowered her wife to the swing, kneeling in front of her. She pressed her body between her lover’s legs. “Tara.” She waited for the blonde’s eyes to meet her own. “Look at where you have been. Look at every step that you have ever taken, in the beginning, alone.”
Tara turned away, remembering how lonely her life had once been. She turned back toward her love. “I was afraid Willow. I lived in fear. Don’t forget that.”
“Tara… no!” Willow saw the shame growing across the blonde’s face. “We all have fear baby.”
“It was where I hid Will.” She shook her head, shamed by her past. “I got lost in shame and fear.” Her hands fell across her thighs, forcing frustration back and forth over the soft fabric.
“We all have. It’s just that some of us never find our way out of it.” The redhead lowered her hands to meet her wife’s, the tender touch pausing the motion. “You told me that your Mother was happy. That being with her made you happy.”
Tara’s eyes flooded with tears, closing tight as the thoughts of her mother’s tenderness filled her, washing over the darkness she’d survived. “For the longest time the memory of her love was all the happiness I had but you can’t live in memories.”
Willow reached to brush the tears away, a motion she’d made many times before. She stared at her wife, recognizing her first glimpse at Elizabeth through her daughter, Tara. Her hand rested, pressed tightly against the blonde’s cheek, sweeping away the tears with her thumb. “I can see her in you.”
Tara opened her eyes, awed by her wife’s adoration. “It’s all I ever really wanted.”
“What’s that?” Willow held her lover tightly.
Tara closed her eyes, her body releasing the agony of regret. “To be like her.”
Willow kissed her softly, their lips lingering on the tenderness of the moment. The redhead moved beside her on the swing, pulling the blonde into the shelter of her open arms. They folded together, Tara’s toes tucked in beneath the blanket; her wife’s foot slowly padded the porch floor, sending the swing gently gliding. “She led you here. Taught you how to love us. One day Abbey will fall in love and know how to share it because she watched you love me.”
The blonde nuzzled against the rhythmic beating of her lover’s heart, lulled by the motion of their swing.
Willow closed her eyes to the sensation of her wife’s embrace. “So much like her.”
Edited to say... THE END
for now
Peace is not the absence of conflict; it's the absence of inner conflict. Unknown When we stand up, we are standing up for everybody. Each of us needs to know, in fact, that we are rainbows in the clouds... for everybody. MAYA ANGELOU
Edited by: Urn of Osiris at: 5/21/03 12:17:33 pm