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Unparalleled Love Author : Lovers4Ever Feedback: I'd appreciate it. Distribution: Just let me know first. Spoilers: This story takes place shortly after the conclusion of the last season of BtVS, season 7. There’s an ever so slight crossover with Angel. Rating: R Pairing: W/T Disclaimer: All previous disclaimers apply. Summary: This is a highly angsty story of reunion and healing. It starts a few months after the last season of Buffy. There’s a lot of emotional bloodletting, as it were, but there will be warm fuzzies in the end. Really. Also, there’s a slight diversion from canon: for purposes of this story (and my own psyche.) My thanks to TKOLove for the guidance and inspiration needed to get this story online. Without you, this story wouldn't be here.
Unparalleled Love
Chapter Five
After Tara fell asleep in the chair, Willow debated on whether or not to get a closer look at the body that housed her parallel lover. Seeing the whole scenario as a little bit stalker-like, she elected to just slink out and meet up with the other Scoobies. But this time she took the elevator.
Back at the suite, Willow glumly told Xander that he’d be proud, she did nothing. Everyone was chomping on Chinese take-out, but Willow had no appetite. Buffy sat down next to Willow on the couch without saying anything, just being a stay-close friend.
Unable to quell her curiosity much longer, she ventured, “Wanna talk?”
“Nothing personal, Buff, but this whole day sucks just enough wind to qualify as one of your birthdays.” Willow leaned her head on Buffy’s shoulder and continued. “We didn’t talk much. She wanted my opinions and feelings. I don’t know if I helped at all. She’s in so much pain, and not the bodily injury kind.”
While chewing an egg roll, Xander started to think past tomorrow and even beyond next week. “What’s she going to do, Will? She has no one and no place to go. She doesn’t just not exist, any record of her labels her as dead.”
“Well, I can’t speak for you guys,” Willow answered, “but I’ll be there for her. I know it sounds creepy, offering everything I can to someone I’ve technically only met today.”
“I’m with Willow,” Dawn added. “And it’s not creepy. Does she seem like a stranger to you?”
“If by ‘stranger’ you mean the complete embodiment of my soul mate,” Willow answered.
Buffy and Xander exchanged a glance, wondering how the other felt about taking care of this Tara.
“Will, I love you and I loved Tara. I felt connected immediately to this Tara today. I’ll back you up on whatever you want to do.”
“Thanks.”
“Me too, Willster,” Xander added. “You know I’m scared witless that this could all go awry and –“ Xander stopped abruptly when he caught a glimpse of Buffy’s admonishing look. “But, hey, this could all go the way of roses and sugarplums and, since it’s not Buffy’s birthday, things could still end up alright.” Xander walked over and sat on the coffee table directly in front of Willow. “I guess what I’m saying is that I’m in for whatever you or this Tara may need.”
Willow leaned forward and put her hand on his knee. “Thanks. As hard as this may be for you to believe, I wish Anya were here.” Xander just nodded.
**
Morning sunlight streamed into Tara’s recovery room. In the night a nurse had come and applied clean dressing to Tara’s wounds and coaxed her from the chair to the bed. She was saved more nightmares of Willow’s death, but also gone now was the hope that Willow’s death had been but a dream. It was another day in another world and every minute pulled her farther and farther away from the life she once lived.
The smell of coffee awakened Tara. Mochas, to be exact. And someone was holding her hand. All of this she sensed before even opening her eyes. If she didn’t open her eyes, she could pretend she was back in Sunnydale during happier times, but the pain in her legs and the sore spot at the back of her head sucked all the life out of that illusion.
Tara opened her eyes. What she saw caused a whimper to escape her lips and tears to well up in her eyes. A chair had been pushed up against Tara’s bed. Dawn was asleep in the chair with her head resting on her arm. Her other arm was lying on Tara’s bed and her hand was covering Tara’s. She appeared to be wearing a very large t-shirt, possibly one of Xander’s. Tara didn’t want to move. She wanted to capture this moment for all time. Is this the trade-off I get? I lose my mate but gain back all the others who populated my heart? Someone isn’t playing fair.
Using her free hand, Tara grabbed one of the mochas on the side table. She hoped it wasn’t a stretch to assume one of the drinks was for her when it was, after all, her room. Dawn couldn’t have brought these mochas. They were steaming hot and Dawn has clearly been asleep for a while. Willow or Buffy probably brought the mochas in just now and placed the drinks beside her bed without disturbing either of the sleepyheads. Then Tara noticed a plate of muffins, caramel crunch muffins. That narrowed the list of probable suspects even more. Only Willow knew Tara’s particular muffin weakness. The mocha tasted so good going down. She hadn’t been hungry for what seemed like a lifetime. She still had no appetite, but couldn’t deny herself the comfort afforded by comfort food.
As she sipped, she gazed at Dawn’s sleeping form. It would be just like Dawn to impulsively seek out Tara in the night. She well remembered the times after Buffy’s death when Dawn had snuck into Buffy’s room and lay down with the Buffybot while it recharged. Neither this Tara nor the Buffybot were the genuine articles, but Dawn’s heart was compromised enough to accept substitutes. Tara refused to let her mind go to that dark day when she lost Dawn in her parallel world. With resolve she didn’t know she possessed, Tara stayed in the present and allowed herself the pleasure of Dawn’s warm hand on hers.
Tara wondered what she had to offer this Dawn. What did Dawn expect? She also wondered if maybe she wasn’t asking the wrong questions. The time for stepping outside herself might be at hand.
“Do you want me to go?” were Dawn’s first words of the day. She didn’t lift her head. The words were spoken into the covers of the bed.
Tara set down her coffee and pulled her hand away from under Dawn's so that she could stroke Dawn’s silky, touchable hair. Dawn misinterpreted Tara's actions, though, and took it as her cue to leave. She sat up without looking at Tara and moved toward the door.
“Dawn, don’t leave. Please.”
Turning toward Tara with a look of unqualified love, Dawn fell into Tara’s arms.
“I don’t care which Tara you are,” she cried into Tara’s shoulder. “They didn’t want me to come without asking you first. I knew you wouldn’t be mad. Not if you’re really a copy of her.”
“I’ve missed you so much, Sweetie!” Tara said with her arms wrapped around Dawn while one hand stroked her hair.
Dawn felt so vibrant and hopeful in Tara’s arms. She wished some of that exuberance could be absorbed through the embrace. Dawn was now fully awake and animated. “I want to know all about your world, but not if it’s going to make us both sad. At least not right now.” Catching sight of the coffees and food, Dawn looked puzzled. “Who brought these?”
“I’m guessing it was Willow. She must have tip-toed in while we were sleeping,” Tara surmised.
“That was sweet.” They now sat looking at each other, occasionally touching hands as if to verify each other’s existence. Unlike the older Scoobies, Dawn didn’t censor her feelings. She was motivated by her certainty that love and family were paramount. Everyone had a role in Dawn’s life and it didn’t matter which Tara this was – any Tara would always be her second sister. This love came without any noble notions of duty or responsibility and, as such, allowed the most uncomplicated connection Tara could hope for.
“Tell me what it’s like,” Tara asked.
“What do you mean?”
“What’s it like living with Xander? I mean, not living on a Hellmouth?” Tara patted a spot on the bed to let Dawn know she could be closer, if she wanted. Dawn didn’t hesitate to sit and then lay on the bed, her head on Tara’s shoulder. They communed like that for most of the morning, talking and catching up on every facet of the teenager’s all-important life. To Tara, Dawn’s voice was like a siren, calling her out of her own obliterated world, and into this living one.
Dawn eventually got up, explaining that she had slept in Xander’s t-shirt because he hadn’t packed anything for her in his rush to get to LA. She was going to return to the suite they all shared, freshen up, and figure out how to get more clothes while she was in town. Tara was grateful that it was Saturday and maybe no one – or very few people, at worst – would see Dawn as she travelled back to her suite wearing only a large t-shirt.
Just as Dawn opened the door to leave, Tara asked her for a favor. Could she ask Willow to stop in for a visit?
**
Willow stood outside of Tara’s door with a shopping bag full of clothes. Thoughts were volleying through her head like a thousand tennis balls ricocheting at once.
Why did Tara request to see me? Did my visit last night upset her? I’ll bet that’s it. Maybe she just wants to cut ties. But we don’t have any ties. Does she want to say good-bye? Is she ready to ask for help? Poker face, Rosenberg. No matter what she wants, do not jump off any emotional cliffs.
With just a few tennis balls left dribbling around in her head, Willow softly knocked on Tara’s door and stepped inside.
Tara was sitting on her bed, her legs dangling over the edge.
“Hey,” was all Willow could manage. She had planned on smiling. She had planned on keeping it casual. But that was before Willow was hit by a monumental case of déjà vu. The bag slipped from her hand and landed on the floor with a thud.
Tara was struck by the same thought at the same moment. “It feels like I’m in my old dorm room.”
“Exactly!” Willow agreed. “You feel it too?”
Tara nodded.
Each shared adoring looks for a split second. It was an automatic response they both immediately felt guilty about. Each woman felt unfaithful and disloyal to their dead mate. Adoration changed to guilt and then curiosity. They stared at each other, sometimes lingering over a certain feature, and looking away when uninvited emotions grew too intense.
“Sorry for staring.” Willow’s said. “I forgot how beautiful you are.” Belatedly, Willow realized she’d used the present tense, but she couldn’t bring herself to retract it. Tara was and always would be beautiful.
Tara blushed slightly and looked at her hands in her lap. “Y-you’ve had more time than I have – to forget, I mean.” She didn’t trust herself to stay detached. This wasn’t her Willow. She fought any transference of her feelings to this Willow. She felt like she was splitting in two. She jumped off the bed to put some distance between herself and Willow, but her movement was too indelicate. She forgot about her stitches and pitched forward in slight pain. Willow lurched and grabbed Tara before she fell down.
“I didn’t have an elevated hospital bed in my dorm room.” Tara quickly said as she gently pulled her body out of Willow’s grasp. “Plus I forgot about the stitches.”
“Are you okay?” Willow’s hand levitated toward Tara but stopped short of Tara’s arm as she saw Tara back away from the touch. Willow dropped her arm and shrugged. “It’s a reflex, I guess. If you get pepper up your nose, you sneeze. I see Tara in pain and I reach out. Just ignore me.”
“You don’t ask for much, do you?” Tara asked as she rounded the bed and stood in front of the window.
“So you’re struggling, too?” Willow moved closer but not too close.
“Of course. I assumed I’d resent you being alive when she isn’t. But it doesn’t w-work that way. I’m grateful you’re here.” She briefly shot Willow a sideways glance. “I selfishly want both of you here.”
“That’s not being selfish. In a way, it feels like they are both here.” Then Willow thought to add, “But not in a ghost-y way like Spike.”
Each woman was waging an internal battle against the affection she felt for the other.
Tara felt the same electricity in the air when this Willow was near, and it shamed her. She wanted that reserved only for her lover. Her dead lover. Why were her emotions and body betraying her so. Is Willow feeling this, too?
Willow was most certainly feeling it, too. She wanted to reach over and revisit every nuance of Tara, but it wouldn’t be revisiting since she just met this woman, so she wrapped her arms around herself to keep her body in check.
Couldn’t we just borrow each other for a stolen moment? Couldn’t I just nuzzle your neck and hold you in my arms and pretend you’re someone else? Taste your lips…and you could pretend I’m your dead, geeky lover. Okay, now I’m creeping myself out.
They spent a moment staring out the window and watching Angelinos go about their daily business.
"I brought you some clothes," Willow finally said, indicating the bag. “Xander felt bad about forgetting to pack any of Dawn’s clothes. I ran out this morning and bought some stuff for her and figured you could use some clothes, too. I assumed your wardrobe didn’t make it through the portal.”
"Thanks…and thanks for the mochas and muffins this morning," Tara said.
Willow didn't tell her that she wasn't courageous enough to deliver the refreshments in person. She got to the door and chickened out, eventually getting the nurse to finish the deed. "Glad you liked them."
There were a few false starts as Tara tried to ask Willow a question. Willow had some questions of her own, but she could wait.
“What do you miss most?” Tara asked. “About her, I mean.”
Willow wasn’t expecting this. She wanted to ask why Tara needed to know, but she didn’t want to risk having Tara withdraw from the conversation. “This question was easier two days ago, when memories were all I had. Now I have the genuine article, or a reasonable facsimile anyway, and my senses are all kaflooey.” She paused to mull over the question, resisting the urge to look over at Tara. To Willow, that would be too much like cheating on a test by glancing at the answer sheet.
“Her smell, I guess. She always smelled delicious and the smell would get on my hands and my clothes. It was like having her around all the time. I kept everything of hers that still had her smell. But it all got destroyed with the rest of Sunnydale. No Tara clothes to curl up with anymore.” Willow couldn’t stop her eyes from tearing up.
Seeing how hard this was on Willow, Tara regretted the question. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to put you through this. It’s just that, to be part of a couple one day and then not the next…I need to hear someone else talk about it.” She turned to look at Willow. “Someone who knew what it was like.”
Willow nodded and returned Tara’s gaze. “I totally get that.” Willow stepped closer for emphasis. “We did exist. Nothing can take that away from us.” Tara turned away and wiped her eyes.
Then Willow blurted out, “No, that’s not it. It’s not her smell I miss most. I think it may be touching her. You have – she…she had the most soft, touchable skin. But that’s not it, either.” The analytical side of Willow started to churn through Tara memories and catalogue every sensual trait she could recall. “Her voice. Like when she called me sweetheart. It just melted me. Especially when she whispered it in my ear…” Willow’s mind careened into intimate territory. Visions of naked Tara and Tara in various stages of climax made Willow smile. Tara knew that smile.
But Willow had decided on what she missed most. She wasn’t even on the right track before.
"Waking up. That's what I miss most."
Tara looked quizzically at Willow, letting her know she didn't quite understand.
Willow closed her eyes. "She made cuddling into an artform. And I miss waking up feeling the length of her body touching the length of mine. It anchored me. She anchored me. Now I'm just an old helium balloon with nothing to hold me down."
Both women lost the ability to speak for a few long minutes. Tara reached for a box of tissue and shared it with Willow.
As they each sat down in two closely arranged chairs, trying to regain composure, Willow said, “Now it’s my turn. Can I ask you a question?”
“Okay.”
“Was she good to you?” Willow's capacity for self-recrimination would make her a loser either way with this question, but she had to know. If the other Willow was a bad girlfriend, then Willow would feel like a lout by association, irrational though it may be. If the other Willow was good to Tara, then Willow was going to feel the sting of being an inferior girlfriend in this dimension.
Tara looked right at Willow with her trademark lopsided smile and said, “The best.”
“Good. That's good.” Willow’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Seeing Willow’s reaction, Tara added, “But we had the same rough spots you two did. We learned not to take each other for granted. If it had been me instead of Buffy killed by Warren that day, I would have died at the happiest point of my life.”
Seeing this comment for what it was, Willow gave a little smile of acknowledgement.
“Willow,” Tara said, “I have to ask you a favor.”
“Anything. What do you need? I’ll do anything.”
“I need you to be dead,” was Tara’s reply.
“I may have overestimated the whole ‘I’ll do anything’ part.”
TBC
Edited by: Warduke at: 4/18/04 10:06 am
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