Surprise! I'm back, and loaded with a brand new update! I'm afraid I've used up, well actually overused, any spare time I have, so I'm going to have to reply to all the awesome feedback at a later date :( I promise I will though! Anyway, to brighten up your obvious dissapointment I will post the new chapter. It's fresher, fitter, and better looking than any chapter yet! I really hope you enjoy.
I am currently experiencing a massive guilt trip because of all the untouched work (curse you exams) staring accusingly at me, so I must be off my pretties! Enjoy! I have truly mastered the art of procrastination.
[center]SAVING MYSELF[/center]
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Chapter 6
The Past
Tara sat at the back of the seminar room, oblivious to the professor’s monotonous tone droning on continuously about the tragedy of Picasso’s Guernica painting. His voice invaded her thoughts once again, diverting her from her somewhat heated daydreams of a certain redhead.
“Should the dead lose their vote in the referendum over hope versus despair? Well, look at the way Picasso has placed the contorted figure of the horse in correspondence to the mutilated body of the soldier. On top. Which symbolises hope? The prevailing or the defeated?”
Tara could only think of one thing she’d like to be on top of at that point in time. One person to be exact.
God, why do I have to be so distracted?
She used to be interested in this art history stuff.
Clicking her pen furiously she sighed in agitation and shifted uncomfortably in her seat, which made a loud creaking noise. She looked up guiltily, catching the eye of a few annoyed class members, and attempted to remain still, trying her hardest to concentrate and not breath too loudly. This didn’t last too long though. Her concentration drifted. It wafted and danced, receding into the welcoming place in the back of her mind.
~.~.~.~.~.~
“Tara”
“Hmmmm, Willow.” Tara smiled contentedly and rolled over in her sleep.
Someone giggled. What? Dream Willow doesn’t giggle, dream Willow moans sexily and says dirty stuff.
“Tara.” She groaned. Why was someone shaking her? “Tara, baby, wake up.”
“Wha?” Tara shot up, blinking sleepily, her face colliding with something soft.
“Ow!” Willow stumbled backwards slightly, holding her nose and grinning, partly amused by her lover’s confused state.
“Willow! Oh my god are you ok? Did I hurt you?” Tara stood up, her books falling to the ground.
“No, no, I’m fine.” Willow smiled in reassurance, wiggling her nose a little and gently pushing Tara back down into her seat, “Although you do have a really hard face. And why were you sleeping during Art History?” She plopped down in the chair next to Tara, who realised she was still in the, now empty, seminar room.
“Do I really need to explain why I’m so tired?” Tara raised her eyebrows a little.
“Um yeah, I’m all out of possible reasons.” Willow grinned wickedly, absently running her fingers up Tara’s arm.
Tara smiled warmly, “Let’s just say it’s got nothing to do with a lack of coffee.”
Willow’s grin grew larger, “I love your smile.”
She leaned in closer, placing a small kiss on Tara’s shoulder and pulling back. Tara sighed and Willow moved in again, this time sucking gently on her earlobe.
Tara stiffened and pulled back, looking quickly around the room. “Will, we’re in a class room. Anyone could see us.”
Willow pouted and traced Tara‘s collarbone, “But everyone’s gone. It’s just us.”
Despite Willow’s very distracting hand which had moved from her collarbone to a rather softer, rounder area, Tara couldn’t help but wonder, “Why didn’t anyone wake me up?”
“What?” Willow stopped her Tara-booby exploration and looked at her girlfriend in shock. “I’m all with the naughty touchage and you’re worried because no one woke you?”
“Well,” Tara placed her hand over Willow’s, tangling their fingers together, “it just seems like no one notices me. I mean, they all knew I was here but….” She trailed off.
“Of course they notice you Tara.” Willow brought their hands to her mouth, kissing Tara’s knuckles softly. “I notice you. You‘re way cooler than any of those dumbheads.”
Tara smiled, and turned her face towards Willow’s, bringing their lips together in a tender kiss.
“Hmmmm.” Willow smiled into the kiss, her free hand coming up to cup Tara’s cheek, stroking the skin with her thumb. Tara copied her, her hand coming up to tangle in the red hair, pulling Willow’s mouth harder onto her own. It felt so perfect. She forgot she was in a public place and just lost herself in the feeling of Willow’s lips on hers.
“Tara.” Willow pulled back to breath out the name and looked into Tara‘s eyes, before grabbing the back of Tara’s neck and pulling her into a fierce kiss. All timidness was gone from her touch, this time Willow meant business. She opened her mouth wider and Tara did the same, granting her entrance which Willow took without hesitation.
Tara could feel her body heating up incredibly fast. The space between her and Willow suddenly felt too big, and in one swift movement she had crossed over from her seat to straddle her girlfriend’s lap, closing the distance between them. Their bodies fitted against each other perfectly, the dim light from behind the closed blinds of the seminar room dancing around them as they sank deeper and deeper into the passion which now flared violently between them.
Willows lips opened and closed frantically against her own. Tara felt the hand move from the vicelike grip on her neck to land on her backside, pulling her in harder against her girlfriend’s body. She grunted at the sudden movement as hot pleasure spread through her, and moved her own hand down from the tangle of Willow’s hair to squeeze between their panting bodies and latch onto her lover’s hard nipple, twitching it and then pressing her hot, sweaty palm fully against the small mound of her girlfriend’s breast. Willow gasped and arched into the touch, her hand gripping tighter on Tara’s ass. Tara moaned and squeezed the breast again before wrapping both her arms tightly around Willow’s neck and latching her mouth onto the sweet skin behind her ear. Willow’s hand came up to hold her head, leaving it there as Tara moved her mouth from behind her ear to suck on her girlfriend’s pulse point, leaving a mark. Willow’s other hand moved from her ass, sliding hotly up underneath her tank top to caress the skin on her sweat-slicked back.
A little dust mite strayed absently in between the two girls, blushing when it realised what they were doing, and quickly left, flying away to join the other dust mites in their daily migration to the Kingdom of Dust Mites in the library.
Neither girl noticed. Of course.
Tara pulled back, breathing heavily, her lips barely touching Willow’s.
“Will, class.”
Willow grinned evilly and in one swift move, unfastened Tara’s bra strap, her hands mapping the soft skin around Tara’s shoulders.
“I have the afternoon off.” she whispered, and kissed her girlfriend’s lips swiftly. An intense kiss. Tara’s heart skipped a beat.
Tara smiled, and looked into the redhead’s eyes, full of expectation and love. She proceeded to rest her hands on Willow’s shoulders, squeezing gently. Willow proceeded to place one hand between Tara’s thighs, making the girl gasp sharply. Willow rubbed slightly, enjoying her girlfriend’s surprised reaction.
“No Will,” Tara inhaled sharply as Willow sank her hand even further into the cookie jar. “I meant, class, other, oh goddess, other people have,” She jerked in the redhead‘s lap, “have class now. Here.”
Quite frankly, by the time she’d finished the sentence, Tara no longer gave a damn who walked into the room. She completely surrendered to Willow’s lips, drinking in her girlfriend like she’d just gone a week without water. Willow clearly took advantage of the situation to do the same.
“Dude, check it out! It’s Christmas!” An amazingly loud, obviously testosterone-filled male voice interrupted the two girls in their…
“Research! We’re doing research!” Willow pulled back abruptly from her tongue thrusting actions, the words bursting out of her mouth.
Tara shrieked and grabbed her books, holding them in front of her face in an attempt to hide. An attempt which obviously failed when another voice spoke from the now substantially large crowd of excited, shocked, and slightly aroused college students that had gathered at the entrance to the room.
“Tara? No.” A dark haired girl moved forward, her mouth hanging open. She craned her neck from behind the other students. “But seriously, Tara?” She giggled, and covered her mouth in obvious glee, before giving Willow the once-over. Tara blushed brightly. Willow glared. The girl nodded in approval.
“Oh, full marks Blondie. Seriously didn’t think you had it in you.” The girl grinned and winked at Willow. Someone else in the crowd cheered. Another applauded.
Willow, blushing as brightly as Tara, grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and pulled her towards the doorway, trying to appear unaffected by the numerous coughs and whispers aimed their direction. As they pushed through the crowd, one guy had the nerve enough to whistle in appreciation. Willow gave him the hairy eyeball, and he quickly backed off.
Hmmmm, Tara grinned to herself, Willow’s acting all butch. She turned her head and smirked in the direction of the oggling students as they left, before reaching out to slap Willow’s butt cheek lightly. Willow yelped in embarrassment and began to walk faster. The onlookers watched in disbelief.
Tara turned away and smiled, wrapping her arm around her girlfriend’s waist tightly in happiness.
Willow watched her closely. “You’re a vixen, you do realise.”
“Only around you sweetie.” She pecked her still stunned girlfriend on the lips.
Everything was absolutely as it should be as the two girls walked peacefully across the sunlit campus.
~.~.~.~.~.~
The Present
Buffy fumbled with the zipper on her jacket, pulling at it in frustration when it refused to undo. She walked through the small gate at the entrance of the Summer’s home, bending down to collect the morning paper still on the footpath. That’s strange. Tara usually gets the paper.
The night before it had rained, leaving the pavement wet and slippery, and the paper even wetter. She had spent the night at Spike’s. Dawn, of course was now in college, so she was looking forward to a quiet morning. Just her and Tara. It felt like they needed a bit of time to relax. Tara was obviously not ready to talk about Willow yet, and neither was she. Besides, she wasn’t one to make a cheerful morning of pancakes and yummy coffee all morbid by talking about sad things. Tara had had the house and her thoughts to herself last night. She probably needed the company.
Buffy nodded to herself in reassurance. Everything is going to be fine.
That thought soon disappeared when she opened the front door and walked headlong into a tree.
“Ow. What?” She rubbed her nose and frowned.
“Tara?” Her voice echoed around the seemly empty house. With one last look at the tree, its trunk protruding from the now ruined floorboards, its leaves and branches spread out across the ceiling, she stepped around and walked carefully up the stairs, watching the ground for anymore strange plants, killer vines, poisonous shrubs, anything. There were none. Just the tree.
“I knew the trees were dangerous. I knew it. Tara!” Echo.
When no one answered Buffy ran. She ran into the bedrooms, the bathroom, back downstairs into the kitchen. Tara was no where to be found.
“Tara!” Her voice echoed again. Why was it echoing? She ran over to the tree and kicked it with all her strength. Pain shot through her foot and straight up her leg. She fell onto the floor, clutching her toes, glaring at the tree.
“Damnit Tara, where are you?”
She held her foot and tried to think.
“Tara.”
Buffy sat up. She hadn’t said anything. That wasn’t her speaking.
“Tara.”
There it was again.
Buffy tried not to make too much noise as she edged herself closer to the tree. She pressed her ear against its trunk, her cheek lightly touching the peeling bark, and listened. She didn’t hear anything at first. Then, the branches above her rustled, sending a few slender leaves to land gently on the ground beside her, and she heard it, softer than before, as if the tree was aware of her close presence.
“Tara.”
The tree was whispering to her.
~.~.~.~.~.~
Tara woke up to the morning sun. She squinted into the light, stretching her limbs out and wincing as her muscles cramped up slightly. With a small groan she sat up, her back immediately clenching, and looking around her she realised she was lying on the bench at the bus stop.
What the?
She recalled running from the house last night, her eyes blurry with tears. She had stumbled around Sunnydale for a while in the storm. A couple of times she’d considered going back, or maybe going to Xander’s, but couldn’t bring herself the explain why she was out so late, saturated and crying. She had felt half dead from lack of sleep by the time the rain had been reduced to a drizzle, and had, in a delirious state, collapsed in the first sheltered place she found.
Which happened to be the bus stop.
Sighing she clenched her fists in exasperation. She was a fair way away from the Summer’s house, and her restless couple of hours of sleep had left her in no state to walk all the way back again. She groaned again after finding her pockets were empty. She had no money. Hitch-hiking didn’t seem like the best option either. There were all sorts of people in Sunnydale willing to pick up the helpless stranger, and they weren’t always human. Most of the time their intentions weren’t good either.
So she stood, and her legs threatened to collapse, but she held on to the side of the bench and inhaled deeply, keeping her balance. She tried not to think about Willow’s letter.
Her feet were bare.
Somewhere last night she must have lost her shoes.
The road was wet from the rain, and cold against Tara’s skin. She shifted a little on her feet, and took a hesitant step, beginning the long walk home.
~.~.~.~.~.~
About half an hour later a vehicle pulled up beside her where she‘d stopped on the sidewalk to pick a stone out from between her toes, its tires coming to a slow halt on the gravely road.
“Tara isn’t it?”
A quiet male voice spoke gently from the window of the vehicle. Tara looked up quickly, taking in the short, black-haired guy speaking across to her from the driver‘s seat of the van. She recognized his face vaguely; the patient expression, the intense gaze, the tufted hair, his fading face imprinted in her memory.
“Oz.”
“Yeah.”
She thought she saw a slight smile on his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came.
“You looked kind of worn out, thought you could use a lift.”
He leant across and opened the passenger door, motioning with a nod of his head for her to get in. Tara sighed and forced a smile, internally grateful for the kind gesture, but to tired to show it. She climbed in, shutting the door behind her before turning to stare out of the front windscreen, avoiding eye contact with Willow’s ex-boyfriend. It was in the past. All this was in the past, but she couldn’t ignore the feelings of seeing Oz. It reminded her of Willow.
God, this was too much.
Oz seemed to notice her pointed silence, and turned the van back onto the road.
“Where to?”
“Buffy’s.” She looked down at her lap and unclenched her fists. She hadn’t noticed she’d been clenching them.
“T-Thankyou.” Her voice croaked a little.
She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye, and settled back into her seat, enjoying the comfort of the old leather.
The van smelt like cinnamon and smoke.
~.~.~.~.~.~
They drove on for a while, Oz humming softly to himself, Tara gazing out the passenger window. She wondered what Buffy was doing at home. Surely she would have noticed Tara’s unexplained absence by now.
Maybe she’d found the letter.
“So, I’m not usually one to question, but you seem pretty out of it. Is” He paused as he turned down Revello Drive, “Is everything alright?”
“I-I don’t really want to talk about it. Things are” She struggled for the right word, and felt relieved when he pulled up outside the Summer’s house. “Complicated.”
“Good old Sunnydale, never lets you down.”
Tara smiled at him politely. He grinned slightly and watched her as she opened the door and stepped out of the van, before getting out himself.
Tara didn’t know what to tell him. She couldn’t tell him that Willow was dead. Not yet. He was watching her expectantly, and she felt inclined to repay him for the lift home. The truth would have been the last thing he needed. Besides, there was only one reason he would come back to Sunnydale; to see Willow.
“W-would you like to come inside?”
“Sure.”
He followed behind her to the front porch, walking so quietly she couldn’t tell he was there.
Tara was met by a strange sight when she entered the house. Buffy sat, legs crossed, leaning her head against the trunk of a tree which appeared to have grown out of the floor. She looked as though she was listening to something, so intently that she didn’t hear Tara’s voice.
“Buffy?”
Tara was incredibly confused. She stood in shock in the doorway. Oz raised an eyebrow, and looked at her, opening his mouth as if to say something before letting it shut just as quickly.
“Buffy, why is there a tree in the house?”
“Tara!” Buffy jumped up suddenly at hearing Tara’s voice. She spun around and grabbed the girl in a powerful hug, before pulling back, holding her shoulders gently. She made as if to speak, before gasping in surprise at the figure standing behind Tara on the porch.
“Oz?”
“Hey Buffy.” He nodded to her, shuffling awkwardly.
“Um, ok, first things first.” Buffy turned back to Tara. “Did you cast a spell last night?”
“What? No.” Tara shook her head distractedly, unable to take her eyes off the tree. Its branches were moving, yet there was no breeze in the house, as though it was live.
“Well that doesn’t help things.” Buffy scratched her head. “Tara listen, I’m going to ask you to do a very strange thing.” Buffy took Tara’s hand and led her to the tree so that they stood right beside it.
“Listen to the tree.”
“What?”
“Put your ear against it.”
Tara looked at Buffy before leaning in and placing her ear against the tree. Buffy stepped back. Tara waited. It was warm. Were trees always warm? She leant in further, both hands coming to rest against the side of the tree. As soon as she did so the tree moved. Like a tremble. Its solid trunk quivered beneath her touch. The branches rustling. Its limbs creaking. Tara didn’t move.
“Well that didn’t happen for me.” Buffy spoke quietly to Oz who had come to stand beside her, both of them watching Tara and the tree. He shrugged.
“It’s a Willow.” He whispered.
“What?” Buffy held her breath as the tree continued to react to Tara’s presence.
“A Willow tree. A Weeping Willow to be exact.” He gestured to the tree. “I don’t think it’s fully grown though.”
“Oh my.”
Tara didn‘t hear either of them. All she could hear was the voice of the tree as it whispered to her.
“Tara.”
She saw white fairy lights.
My Willow.
~.~.~.~.~.~
The Reality
I’m back.
To be honest I didn’t think I’d come back.
I figured that by morning I’d be gone. You’d reckon that by spending an entire night out, alone in Sunnydale would leave you with the almost impossible likelihood of survival. I must have been part of that one millionth percentage of helpless girls who don’t get sucked dry by vampires, sacrificed by demons, or eaten by werewolves.
So I woke up this morning and came back, and everything has changed.
Firstly, Oz has come back. He’s downstairs with Buffy and Xander.
Secondly I opened the parcel. I read your diary. I saw the photos. I thought that maybe I’d gotten through the worst of it, but I was proved wrong. That little piece of paper proved me wrong. I’ve cracked, and I doubt even you can pick up the pieces.
Thirdly, there’s a tree, in the entrance room. It’s warm. It feels alive, and I don’t mean like ‘alive‘, because duh, most trees are alive unless someone’s poisoned them, or maybe the First Evil has settled in an underground tunnel, killing everything in its path, along with the trees. God I’m even starting to babble in my diary. But alive as in, I think it’s breathing. And when I touched it, it trembled. Buffy noticed it too. Oz said it was a Weeping Willow.
But this tree, it’s warm. It moves. It talks Will. It says my name. It says my name, the way you say my name. Said my name I mean, because of course you’re not here to say my name anymore. But still, why did this tree suddenly grow, overnight? It doesn’t make sense. I’ve tried to figure it out, but my mind isn’t working. It keeps getting clouded. By thoughts of you. The tree reminds me of you.
Xander wants to chop it down, use the wood for building. I can’t let him. For some reason this tree almost feels like there is a part of you in it. Like, if Xander chops it down, I know this sounds crazy, but if he chops it down I don’t think I’d handle it.
It’s too beautiful.
We need to work out how it came here.
If only you were around. You’d know what to do.
Or Giles. He called the other night remember? Buffy talked to him over the phone, the same night Spike told me how you died.
Oh goddess.
I love you so much.
I talked to Buffy earlier this afternoon. Apparently Giles was attacked by something. He wasn’t sure what it was, and he didn’t go into much detail either. He seemed ok though, just a bit shaken. The ‘thing’ left in a great hurry when he hit it with one of the heavier crosses he carries around, and he’s looking into it, but he thinks it might have something to do with the reason he left for England so suddenly in the first place.
He said he’d received an urgent call from the Watcher’s Council after your funeral. They told him to come to England as quickly as possible on urgent business. By the time he got there the Council was gone. Destroyed. He found their building burnt to the ground, the remains closed off by police tape, and asked a passer by what had happened. Someone had blown it up Will. No one survived. They just killed them all. Just like that.
But that’s not all. Giles searched through the ruins and found something. Apparently it was some of the council’s more recent work and documentation. Although it was in bad condition, he could still make out half of it, with some difficulty.
According to the Watcher Council‘s research, Glory wasn’t the only one of her kind. Her death created some sort of portal from the underworld. But it couldn’t have been possible without an enormous amount of powerful magic. That’s where you came in. Glory was a trap Will. The underworld were using her, they knew she was going to die, they wanted her to die. She was an embarrassment to the immortals of the underworld, so what better way to deal with her than use her death as a opportunity to access the one place they could never walk in their solid form, earth? They knew the only way to kill her was with magic. When you cast that spell, they drained your power, and used it to create this gateway to earth. But it isn’t completed yet. You, you died before they could finish. The strain they put on your body was too much for a mortal to handle.
You weren’t meant to die Will. You were never meant to die.
Apparently Dawn is out of the picture, her power is useless. The whole ‘key’ thing was just a theory, a way to trick Glory into attempting to return home. They need more power. And they need it fast. They’ve sent messengers. Spread them across the earth, to hunt, to find the magic they need to complete the gateway, to open a completely different kind of Hellmouth. Different to the one we’re used to. We’ve spent the past years fighting against only the inhabitants of the outskirts of the Hellmouth. According to Giles, the demons and vampires? They’re like the rodents of our earth; the rats, the ferrets. Someone’s trying to open the real Hellmouth. This Hellmouth is the home of the blackest of all evil.
And we have to stop them.
Glory was just the beginning.
Something is coming. Something big.
I’m so scared.
We can’t do this without you. Everyone knows that. We need you more than ever.
I need you. I’m going to find you. I’ll always find you.
~.~.~.~.~.~
_________________ If you're gonna get up, you might as well get up with me - Tegan and Sara Saving Myself
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