caz: About Willow and Buffy... in time you'll have more details about what happened. I'm aware that I'm delivering the information in bits and pieces; but that's good, more mystery
Tara... yes, she's in the middle of that. My opinion is that she was an emotional center for the group, and her departure harmed everyone.
Giles... yes, I placed him in the twenty-first century, at last
I figured that he would see the utility of e-mail.
will: Hehe, like I said, you'll know the specific details in time. Thanks, I hope you like this one too.
AlysonGoddess: Thanks! Here's more
viximon: Ey, hola. You're right, many things are bad, beginning with messed up relationships, then we have the black stone, and all the things that W & T don't know about each other. Tengo muchos cabos sueltos que atar, lo sé, pero me alegro mucho de que lo sigas disfrutando. ¡Gracias!
Irene73: Thanks, the whole situation with the Scoobies was hard to write, because I wanted to reflect it well, but also, it's painful. I hate it when my friends fight with each other, so I was trying to transmit the same kind of tension. That's right, their bonds are not completely severed, but it's not going to be pretty. Gracias, besos.
dorksrcool: That's hot! (and no, I don't mean in the Paris Hilton way)
Ugh, Paris Hilton! (
Think about something nice, think about Willow and Tara, Willow and Tara kisses)
Lol, anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, Tara has a lot to deal with, and she doesn't even know everything. Willow has questions too, and there's still romantic tension between them... What will happen?
WillowRulez: This is quickly becoming one of my (new) favorite stories on the board.
Wow, I'm honored to read this. Glad I got you hooked, thanks!
Guppy: Hot! I can just imagine the stare!
See? there's always an upside, even if the rest is quite depressing. Thanks!
eirnlove:
Thanks, new update here
[b]Candleshoe: Okay, this is exciting, someone's addicted to my fic!
Yay! I know I should be sorry that you're missing sleep-time, but I'm honored.
tarebear: Hey, don't be sorry if yoy missed updates. That's good, you'll have more to read
And God, I got another person addicted, I better not think about it or I'll get nervous. Thank you!
Willow~Rosenberg: Wow, I got several things to thank you for. Firstly, for reading it all in one go, it always impresses me. Secondly, because you found that my portrayal of the characters was adequate. Third, glad I got you intrigued. See you!
------------------------------------------------------
Author: grr in girl
Disclaimer: 'BtVS' and all its characters belong to Joss Whedon.
Rating: I'm going to say R.
Setting: It takes place after Season Six's 'Tabula Rasa' (although there are changes in some of the season's previous events), when Tara moves out, only that she moves out of town. Almost four years go by.
Comments: High angst level.
Feedback: Yes, please, if you want to.
Chapter 8
“And how can I stand here with you, and not be moved by you?” (‘Everything’, Lifehouse)
Willow clicked on another link and rubbed her eyes while the new images began to load. She’d lost count on how many different crystals with bizarre uses had flashed before her. The rest of the Scoobies had cleared out an hour ago to get some sleep, Xander and Anya settling in Joyce’s room.
In our room, Willow mused, glancing at Tara for the millionth time.
The blonde had curled up on the sofa with a book and had fallen asleep soon enough, her cheek nestled by the crinkly and yellowy pages of the old volume. Willow’s eyes lingered on the image of perfection that was Tara’s peaceful face, the dream transporting her someplace far away from worries. She wished to be that dream for Tara, but knew that she hadn’t been precisely dream-like in the past.
It had been a long time ago, but she still remembered the last time that she’d seen Tara sleep. Back then, they weren’t separated by some meters and several pieces of furniture (like they were now), but there were other things in between, high as walls, even if they’d been lying side by side in the same bed.
Magic, she thought, standing up and walking into the living room. The thing that had brought them together had been the thing to break them apart…
Why are you blaming magic? She crouched on the floor, beside Tara, pushing away her common sense’s complaints (
what if she wakes up and discovers you staring at her?) and the weird voyeuristic feeling.
It wasn’t magic. It was me.
But she didn’t want to think about that.
Maybe I should wake her up, Willow thought, wondering if the sofa was a good place to sleep, after all. She lifted a dubitative hand, not knowing where to place it or if she should. Her hand felt drawn to Tara’s face, wanting to stroke her cheek and then move to her hair, but wanting was one thing, and actually doing it was another. Time stopped while her hand floated in midair, fighting against a force much more powerful and significant than mere temptation. Finally, she moved her hand away from the area of Tara’s face and settled on her arm.
Okay, arm-zone. No danger here, Willow mused, but it was the first time in four years that she’d touched Tara, and she could feel the warmth of her skin, even through the wool sweater. Or was she just imagining it? Willow swallowed and gently shook Tara’s shoulder: once, twice, and dropped her hand with guilt when the blonde began to stir.
Tara woke up slowly, lazily, a whine escaping her lips, and Willow just gazed at her until her eyes blinked and then remained open.
“Willow?” she muttered, sounding incredulous.
“Yeah, it’s me. You’re in Buffy’s house, remember?” Willow wondered if she’d ever seen anything more adorable than the present sight before her.
“Yeah…” Tara rubbed her eyes and sat up. “I’m sorry, I fell asleep.”
“Don’t be sorry. Dreamed something nice?” she ventured a smile.
“No, I was dreamless.” Tara returned her smile.
“You’re very tired, you should go upstairs and get a decent sleep.”
“A
decent sleep?” Tara’s grin began to grow.
“Oh!”
What was that, a Freudian slip? She opened her eyes wide and got up, shaking her head. “No, no. I’m sorry, I meant… you know, a decent
amount of sleep. In Dawn’s room.”
“Will, relax, I was joking.”
Relax, okay, she thought, wondering how many more times was she going to freak out in front of Tara and appear like a complete spaz.
“What about you?” Tara asked.
“Huh?”
Yeah that’s neat and monosyllabic.
“Where will you get your decent sleep?”
Something about Tara’s question got her very nervous. It seemed to be more than an innocent joke; maybe it was a wicked joke.
But it’s still a joke… Or maybe her nervousness came from the way that those hazy blue eyes were looking at her.
I’m seeing things, Willow thought, shaking her head to clear it.
She’s not looking at me in any special way.
“I’ll stay,” Willow pointed at the dining room table. “I’m going to find that crystal.”
“Then I’ll stay too, I’ll help you.” Tara said, getting up.
“Tara, come on, you need to rest.”
She grasped Tara’s arm, trying to convince her that she had to walk in the opposite direction –towards the staircase-, but the blonde was being playfully stubborn, pushing her towards the dining room. The objective of the “game” was suddenly beside the point; Willow found herself giggling and trying to free her hands, which Tara had imprisoned.
It was unbelievable; she was having fun, and she was having fun with Tara, something she thought she wouldn’t experience again. And she was touching Tara. All the barriers between them had been momentarily removed, and the “game” didn’t feel like clandestine touching. During those brief moments, everything seemed simple: their obstacles, jumpable; remorse, forgettable; accusations, nonexistent.
However, the moments passed, and the word “dangerous” began creeping its way into Willow’s conscience. And the barriers returned.
“Okay,” Willow stopped struggling and raised her hands, “I surrender. You win, let’s go research.”
“Chicken…” Tara crossed her arms over her breast and smirked at her.
They shared another moment of mutual silence, in which Willow realized –however stupidly superfluous it sounded- that Tara’s presence made her happy. Tara had made her happy just by being in the room, sleeping. It was so much… so much compared to the previous nothingness, the four-year emptiness, and part of her wanted to express it somehow, but she couldn’t come up with a non-embarrassing way.
Chicken, indeed, she thought, dryly, while leading the way into the dining room. With courage, she would ask Tara the reasons why she didn’t move that far away from Sunnydale. With courage, she would dare to open up her heart to herself, to Tara, and to her friends. The truth was that she was tired of pretending, hiding, and burying stuff. But the words just wouldn’t come out, they were being kept inside and they weighed a ton.
Willow looked away, remembering the constant sensation of emptiness, night after night. She dug a little deeper still, remembering something she had avoided to think about in quite a long time: how it felt to be alone in the bed they used to share, staring at the empty side and feeling the pain of withdrawal, tearing her insides like a monstrous claw…
“Will, are you okay? Did I say something?”
She lifted her eyes and saw that Tara had gotten closer, her face worried.
“No, I mean… yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m okay. No, you didn’t say anything… I kinda have too many things in my head and it’s really confusing.”
Tara nodded understandingly.
“I have questions,” Willow went on, “but part of me isn’t brave enough to ask them.”
“And the other part?”
“The other part thinks that I have no right to ask.”
“Willow, you can ask me anything.”
Can I? She had the impression that, if she found the courage to ask, it would be like opening Pandora’s Box, and things would come out all at once, everything, unstoppable.
But maybe it’s what we have to do, talk about everything, say all the hurtful things.
“Ask me. I was hoping that we could talk, now that we have the chance.”
“Yeah…” Willow sighed, sitting at the dining room table and clasping her hands together to stop them from fidgeting. “Now that they’re all asleep.”
“You don’t see them too often, do you?” Tara asked, sitting down and facing her, hands folded, but eerily close to Willow’s.
“No. I’m sorry about the way I talked to Buffy… it was just unpleasant and uncalled for, I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Oh no you don’t.” Tara’s voice sounded only half-playful.
What? Willow frowned and opened her mouth to say something, to protest, but Tara was quicker. The blonde raised a hand to Willow’s cheek, leaving it there just a second and touching more hair than skin. But it still paralyzed Willow, making her forget her buts and whys.
“You’re not escaping from this, Will. You know what’s going on.”
“And you’re still perceptive as always,” she smiled, looking down, shamelessly hoping that Tara’s hand would return to her cheek. She could feel its absence.
“One doesn’t have to be a master of perception to see this, but when it comes to you…” Tara said, her voice just a little louder than a whisper, “I’m still the defending champion.”
You don’t have to defend it, the title is still yours, Willow muttered internally, wishing that there was some kind of force that would surge inside her and pull out the words that she couldn’t say. Tara was silent during several seconds, and then shook her head slowly, unbelievingly.
“Whatever happened to the Scooby Gang?”
Willow bowed her head once more and frowned, knowing that the gang had never been as broken and displaced as it was now. They had faced pretty ugly times in the past, their most serious fight being when Spike had tried to separate them to get Buffy to face Adam alone. She remembered the shouting in Giles’ house, the horrible sensation of thinking that her friends had been talking behind her back about the “new thing”, the “wicca thing”. She had felt so offended…
Now, with perspective, seeing all the things that happened later, it didn’t seem more than a mild anecdote that turned out well compared to Tara leaving, the car accident with Dawn, Buffy having to deal with the nerds while she couldn’t even get out of bed… She would’ve liked to say that what happened to the Scooby Gang had one big cause, like one of many disagreements they had had, but it hadn’t. It had been a gradual process in which she’d felt abandoned, and Buffy had felt abandoned, and they could barely talk at each other.
Funny how I had the hope that we would solve this…
How could she explain it to Tara? Where to begin? All that threatened to come out from her mouth were apologies, and Tara didn’t want that.
She’ll understand, Willow mused,
whatever I tell her, because it’s Tara. To have Tara there, beside her… if she wanted to look at her all she had to do was turn her head; if she wanted to tell her something all she had to do was talk. It was incredible.
Suddenly, the telephone began to ring, and Willow shot her head up, first surprised and then worried. She looked around, searching for the phone, but then it stopped ringing: someone had answered it upstairs. Almost immediately, there were steps coming down the staircase.
Buffy was the first to descend, receiver in hand, wearing blue silky pajamas and fluffy pink slippers. Xander and Anya followed her, and last went Dawn, yawning.
“I’m glad that you guys are awake. It’s Giles.” Buffy informed them.
“What, you weren’t making up?” Anya asked, clearly surprised.
How can she do that? How can she imply…?
“Ahn…” Xander sighed, jerking his head backwards.
“What? Don't tell me it's too soon...”
Willow glared at the ex-demon, unable to understand the mechanisms in her brain. Xander was too permissive; after all those years being human, how was it possible that Anya didn’t understand that there were things that you just couldn’t say?
Making up, she thought,
no way. And how could Tara just smile shyly at the question, at the implications? How could she be so calm?
But Giles was at the phone and, by the look on Buffy’s face, he had information.
is of the good
