Okay, so here I am trying to post this thing from Venice, Italy, and I drop in and whoa! All of these choices and, jeepers, I hope this works. Hope you all are still interested in the story; it's been so long, you might want to go back and reread the last bit. Anyhoo. . . . Enjoy! Ciao
Title: Insight
Author: KrisBo5 (Kris, please, we're all friends here)
Email address: KrisBo5@aol.com Feedback: Again, please, I'd love it.
Distribution: This, like Darkness Falls, is the narrative form of a spec script I had written for BVS, which is registered with the WGAw, so please don't publish it or reproduce it in any way, shape, or form. If for some reason you'd like to, just ask first. It's the polite thing to do.
Spoilers: Hmm, I'd say definitely up to Season 6. Past "Hell's Bells" but not up to "Entropy." Yeah, somewhere around the middle of those, but I'm taking liberties.
Rating: This covers the story in its entirety: PG-13 to NC–17. This includes sex, some mild violence, language.
Pairing: Willow and Tara, of course. Buffy and the others are here as well.
Disclaimer: Hey, I didn't create these characters, those kudos belong to Joss and crew. I'm just borrowing them for the story I did write.
Summary: The Scoobies have gotten back together, just not "back together." Tara's got some kind of "power." Buffy's "gone missing." And, then there are those pesky demons. . . .
Note: Unlike DF, this is a little lighter, a little more comedic, a little less verbose. Really, a straight translation from script-to-narrative format. Without further ado, here it is. . .
Insight, Part Two: Act One(C)Tara opened the door to her room and stepped inside. She turned back to Willow, and sensing the redhead's hesitation, she smiled and gestured silently for her to enter.
Willow returned the blonde's smile rather shyly, then nodded. She stepped inside the room and stopped just on the other side of the threshold.
I'm in, I'm in, I'm. . . inside Tara's room. She smiled again.
Tara closed the door and took a deep breath. She's here. . . my Willow's finally here. The blonde cleared her throat softly. "Um, this is my room," she said, looking into Willow's eyes. Oh. My. God. What am I saying? She smiled. Stupid.
Willow nodded again, and felt a slow heat steaming over her skin. She let her eyes move away from Tara's quickly. I'm in Tara's room. She began a slow exploration of the room which made up the blonde's current home. Very unlike Tara's first dorm room, Willow noticed that the walls were painted in bright colors— yellows, oranges, greens, blues— and one was even gifted with a 'mural-in-progress,' consisting of a woman, clad only in flowing white material and holding a sword, rising out of the water. The Lady of the Lake? Venus? Beautiful either way. . . .
But Willow also noticed that some things remained unchanged: candles and scarves and flowers and star charts and books and. . . strung lights around the ceiling. Willow swallowed hard, feeling for the first time— in a very, very long time— that she was. . . home. Her eyes then fell to the desk beside her. Tara's books and papers cluttered the top, and Willow smiled, thinking of the blonde leaning over her texts, that look of concentration— consisting mostly of a frown and biting her lower lip— clouding her expression.
Her eyes eventually came back around to where she stood, and she discovered that Tara had moved away from the door, further into her room; the blonde was standing at the foot of her bed, staring at her, her hands limply at her sides. My Goddess, she is so beautiful. . . . "This is-- it's nice-- the room." Speak English much? Willow tried to smile. Doofus.
"Thank you." She watched Willow for a few more seconds before she tilted her head a tad. "Do you want to actually, um. . . come in?"
Wilow glanced to her left, then right; somehow, without her knowledge, she had backed up against the door, clutching her notebook in an 'abandon-the-crashing-airplane-with-your-arms-crossed-over-your-chest' sort of way. The redhead felt a flush creeping up her chest and neck as she raised her eyes to Tara's again. Idiot much? She smiled a small smile and half-shrugged. Then she took one step into the room. Yup. Much idiot.
Willow. Tara smiled crookedly then tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Okay. . . okay, she's here. . . she's far away. . . but she's here. . . . "Um. . . ," Tara began, sitting on the foot of the bed. What do I say? Do I just start? Do I just tell her I want her? Do I offer her a drink? She took a deep calming breath. Relax. Just relax. She wants to be here. She wants to talk. Okay. . . we can sit and ta-- sit! Oh, Goddess, I'm so rude! Offer her a seat.. "Do you want to. . . ?" Tara gestured with a hand.
Oh, God. Me first? She wants me to go first? Oh. . . okay. . . I can do that. . . I can start. . . where do I start? Do I just bust out? Say I want her back? Say I love her? I need her? Tell her about my diary? Willow cleared her throat. "Uh, so, ah, I-I don't know exactly where to start, so I'm just gonna start and I wanna warn you right now that I might start spiraling, maybe seem like I'm going out of control. . . but I'm not out of control, as you know-- it's just me, babbling me, and you'll just have to bear with me and trust me that I'll get said everything that needs to get said, cause I want to say it and I need to say it and you need to hear it, it's just that it might take awhile." And with that, Willow took a deep breath.
Tara, mouth hanging slightly ajar and hand still frozen in mid-air, just stared at the redhead, an expression a cross between bewilderment and admiration and adoration. Whoa. . . . "Willow, I ju--"
"No, Tara, please. Please just let me. . . ." Tara nodded silently and lowered her hand to her lap. "Okay. . . ." Willow mirrored Tara's movements by finally lowering her arms and holding the notebook in front of her legs. Yeah, and now that I'm supposed to be talking. . . ? She stared at the carpet, listening to the small bedside clock ticking in time with her fluttering heart. She shook her head and finally began. "I-- I guess I'll start with 118 days. . . . Cause that's when you left." Willow flicked the book in her hands. "And when I started this." She tapped the book lightly against her legs. "When you left, I was still using magic-- you know that."
I know. . . .
"But I started writing this. . . ." Willow looked down at the notebook tapping in time against her legs. "My thoughts. . . and feelings. . . about you. . . about us." Willow held the book still against her legs. "You know that, too."
Tara watched Willow work her way through this beginning, this telling of hidden truths and desires, this purging of her soul, and all the blonde could think was how much she loved this woman. How much she needed her. So deep and so clear was the need, she felt as if her heart would surely break. She wanted so much to get up and go to Willow, to pull her into her arms; but Tara remained seated and silent, knowing that they needed to say what needed to be said. It was, after all, why they had come here. She nodded. Yes, I know, Willow. . . .
"But I stopped using the magics. Not the day after you left. . . or the day after or the day after that. I hurt myself. . . I hurt Dawn. . . I hurt everyone. "But I did stop. You weren't there to see, I know, but you were the reas-- I mean, I wanted to stop, Tara, I needed to stop-- but you were a big reason why I did. You being gone from my life. And maybe. . . just maybe, you coming back into it."
Tara felt her stomach flutter as Willow spoke about how she used her love, her need, for the blonde as the impetus for her quitting magic. But she also felt a burst of shame flare through her as she realized just how important she was in Willow's recovery, a recovery she had not helped in at all. Because I left. . . because I wasn't there for her.
"Every day," Willow continued, "Every. Single. Day. I woke up, and I thought of two things-- always the same two things-- that I had to do. One, no magic." Willow smiled, an expression that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Two," Willow lowered her eyes briefly. "Two. Get you to-- hope, hope that you could forgive me." The redhead raised her eyes and looked into Tara's.
Willow. . . .
"Every day was like that, Tara. Every day. They just went by like that. And I didn't use magic," Willow said, her tone sounding urgent. "Never." Then, she looked away. "And one day, you did come back. . . it just wasn't how I hoped, you know?"
Tara nodded, almost imperceptably. I know.
"But we never got around to talking. I mean, there was always Scoobyage, but we didn't ever really even talk to each other about that. And never, ever, about what happened, about us, or, . . . I don't know." Willow shifted her feet. "And that's how it's been. I guess I just started believing that you were still angry or hurt, or you hated me, or. . . you were over me." Willow took a breath. "I didn't blame you, how could I? You deserve the best, and it wasn't. . . ." Willow dropped her eyes to look at her spiral notebook. It wasn't me. . . . "So this became my hope." Willow's voice dropped so low that Tara could barely hear her. "All my hope." She paused. "Inside this, I could tell you everything. In here, I could say the things we never talked about, all the things I wanted you to know, how I feel, what you mean to me. . . . I could ask you to forgive me. . . in here." Only in here. . . until now.
Tears welled up in Tara's eyes, blurring her vision of the woman standing across the room from her. She felt her blood pounding through her body, causing a hard and irregular beating in her heart. With a tremor in her voice, Tara said, "Willow, I-I jus--"
Willow held up the notebook, silencing Tara. She shook her head and swallowed hard, willing herself to continue. You've gone this far. . . . "I-I. . ." Willow reached a hand out to the desk to steady herself. "Pl-- Tara, please forgive me," she whispered tremulously. Having finally said the words she had for so long wanted to, Willow felt an invisible vice release her heart. She felt her legs wobble under her own weight, and her hip soon followed her hand, leaning against the desk to stop herself from crumpling to the floor in a heap. Unable to hold Tara's gaze any longer, she lowered her eyes to the floor, tucking her chin against her chest.
With the echo of Willow's apology still resounding in the air between them, a silent stillness permeated the atmosphere in the small room. Tara felt the weight of the redhead's emotional appeal as if the words had an actual physical substance, a substance which now pressed heavily on her own heart. Oh, Willow. . . . She stared at the redhead for several long seconds, her chest feeling like it were being crushed and ready to burst.
Again the feeling of wanting Willow in her arms swelled inside her. She wanted to hold her so deep that she would feel the redhead's heart beating with her own, that she would feel the redhead's breathing on her skin. But something inside told her that to keep her distance. Willow had bared her heart before Tara, laying open her soul before the blonde, searching for the one thing that would allow her to come to Tara freely, completely.
Forgiveness.
Yes, forgiveness. Willow had asked her for it, pleaded her for it. And Tara could forgive Willow; in her heart, she had, a thousand times over. She could say those words to Willow; in her heart, she had, a thousand times over.
But, now, standing before Willow, seeing her pain, hearing it, Tara knew the redhead needed more than that. More than just that.
Shakily, Tara placed her hands on the bed and pushed herself to her feet. Her whole body seemed to tremble as she stood across from the redhead. Willow had not lifted her eyes from where she focused them on the floor. Tara flexed her hands opened and closed at her sides, finally rubbing her palms over the cottony material of her skirt. "Willow."
Willow took a deep breath, closing her eyes against the coming words. Oh, God. . . . Still, she could not meet the blonde's.
I love you. "I-I'm so. . . proud of you," Tara said, finally finding her voice.
Willow's brow drew together as Tara's words reached her, words that she was not only not expecting, but also words she didn't quite understand. Prou-- what?
Tara waited, but the redhead would still not meet her gaze. The blonde had sat quietly and listened while Willow confessed her innermost feelings and thoughts. And now? Now it was Tara's turn. You've gone this far. . . . "I-I can't imagine what-- what you went through, Willow. But I-I watched you." Willow shifted slightly. "I watched you from far away. . . watched you stop, watched you struggle, watched you. . . finally be happy again." Tara took a deep breath. "Watched you be Willow again."
As Tara spoke, Willow felt her brow begin to relax. She blinked several times, trying to concentrate on what the blonde was saying. She. . . watched. . . me. . . .
"And you made me so p-proud," Tara went on without hesitation. "Willow, you make me proud."
Willow swallowed hard and shifted her weight, pushing up from the desk. Her heart surged with Tara's words, but try as she might, the redhead could not lift her eyes past Tara's knees. Tara. . .can she. . . does she. . . ?
Tara kept her eyes glued to the redhead, watching the redhead struggle with her words, watching them play out over the delicate planes of Willow's face. She doesn't believe. . . she needs to know. . . she needs to hear. "Willow," Tara continued, taking a step forward. "I never thought that. . . ." Tara stopped, trying to gather her next words precisely. "I came back, Willow, but we never talked-- you're right. And I never-- I can't believe that I didn't even think that you needed to hear me say those words." Tara closed her eyes briefly. "How could I not know that? It's you. And I know you." Tara shook her head softly. "They're so late, Willow, so late. . . ." She paused and took a deep breath, a tremor finding its way to her voice. "I forgive you."
Willow closed her eyes tight and lowered her head, tucking her chin in close to her chest again. Her body began to shake, the release she had hoped and prayed for-- since the day Tara had left her-- finally becoming a reality. And. . . hearing them now. . . now it was almost too much. Tears squeezed out from between Willow's pressed eyelids, falling silently to the floor near her feet. Tara. . . .
"Willow. . ." Tara said, a slight quaver in her voice. "Did-- did you hear me?" Willow's only answer was to raise one hand and cover her mouth, trying desperately to contain the sob that threatened to escape. Tara's heart ached as she watched the redhead's anguish. No more. . . no more. "Willow?" When the redhead did not acknowledge her, she tried again. "Willow, please look at me." Willow struggled to do just that, managing to raise her teary eyes to Tara's. "I love you," Tara said simply. She took a deep breath, a hint of a smile touching the corners of her lips. "I just. . . love you." She shrugged, as if it was a foregone conclusion. And when all was said and done, for Tara, it was. Willow lowered her shaking hand from her mouth, tears running unabashedly down her cheeks. "And the only thing keeping you over there. . . is gravity."
Swallowing the lump that had lodged itself in her throat, Willow finally spoke. "T-Tara. . ." she managed, before her voice cracked.
Tara lifted her arms, holding them open to the redhead. "Willow. . . please-- please come to me." Willow took a tentative step, her legs feeling as if they weighed a thousand pounds. And then, as if the last barrier between them had been dismantled, she rushed across the short distance of the room into Tara's open and waiting arms. Tara enveloped the redhead in her embrace, cradling her head with one hand. Willow wrapped her arms tightly around the blonde, the notebook still clutched in one hand; she pressed her face into Tara's throat, her tears making the other woman's skin damp. Tara leaned her head into Willow's, turning it just enough so her lips hovered beside the redhead's ear. "I love you, Willow Rosenberg," Tara whispered, tightening her arms more securely around the woman in her arms. "I love you."
Whether it was the feeling of being back in Tara's arms, or having the blonde whisper 'I love you,' or hearing Tara say 'I forgive you,' it was all-too much for Willow. The sobs she had held at bay for so long at last gave way, a dam of sadness and grief, relief and remorse, bursting uncontrollably from her; the redhead's knees at last buckled, and Tara's arms instinctively tightened around the redhead, trying to prevent them both from falling to the floor. Carefully, Tara let her own knees bend, and slowly, gently, she brought them down to the floor at the foot of her bed. With her knees tucked under her, Tara cradled Willow against her body; Willow, in turn, held tightly to her, her face pressed against the blonde's lap, the sounds of her weeping muffled by Tara's skirt.
Oh, Willow. . . . Tears falling from her own eyes, Tara bowed her body over Willow's, covering the shaking redhead with the shroud of her warmth and her security, but most of all, her love. She lowered her head till it rested beside Willow's and gently rocked them both, back and forth, back and forth. "Shh, Baby, shh," Tara whispered, "it's okay." She rubbed one hand in comforting circles over the redhead's back, while the other softly caressed silky auburn hair. "You're here, Willow. . . we're here. . . we're together now. . . it's all okay now."
***
"Because I said so, that's why."
Dawn crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. "That's not a reason.
"Okay," Buffy said, marching over to her sister and grabbing the video box from under the teen's arms. The Slayer pulled it in front of her own eyes momentarily before holding out to Dawn. Dawn's eyes darted quickly to the box: 'Hellraiser.' She looked at the Slayer once again. "One, it's R-rated-- and you're not," Buffy began. "Two, this is movie night, something that everyone is supposed to enjoy-- and this? Not so much. And three," the Slayer continued, flipping the box over to look at the graphic photos of 'Pinhead' and other torments of 'Hell on Earth.' "This is so fake."
"Whatever," Dawn harumphed, storming off in the opposite direction.
Buffy looked at the video box one more time and shook her head in mock disgust at Hollywood's obvious lack of 'Hellish reality'. "Oh, please."
"Buffy!"
Buffy turned to find Xander loping in her direction, a plastic bag swinging from each hand. "Hey," she said, smiling, "what'd ya' get?"
Xander lifted an arm towards her, offering up one of his 'bags o' plenty'. "Check it out."
Buffy took the proffered sack and glanced inside: chips, dip, salsa, popcorn, licorice, cheese, marshmallows, chocolate. Her smiled widened considerably. "Exxxcellent."
"But wait!" the carpenter continued, lifting the other arm.
Buffy peeked inside: mini taquitos, ice cream, chocolate syrup, whip cream, chopped nuts. "Ahh, ambrosia," she sighed.
"Thought you might like that. And, I called Sardi's-- five large pizzas on the way, thirty minutes or less, so. . . ."
"Right," Buffy said, glancing quickly around the video store for Dawn. Spotting the teen, she nodded towards Xander, "Be right back." She made a bee-line for Dawn and tapped her on the shoulder. "Dawn, pick it up-- pizza's en route."
Dawn turned to face her sister, an impish smile on her face. "Ready," she said in a sing-song voice, presenting a mass-array of videos for Slayer approval.
Buffy eyed the teen warily, then took the videos. Lowering her eyes, she scanned the titles: 'The Parent Trap'(both versions), 'Say Anything,' 'Valley Girl,' 'Notting Hill,' 'Jerry Maguire.' Buffy pursed her lips together and looked at Dawn. "I'm. . . not seeing it yet, but I think there might be a a theme somewhere here?"
Dawn smiled broadly. "Uh-huh."
Buffy glanced down again. "I know-- it's right there, isn't it?"
"Uh-huh."
"Okay, I give, tell me."
Dawn swept her hand over the videos, ala Vanna White. "Couples meant to be together-- against all odds."
A slow, understanding smile crept over Buffy's face. Thinking of Tara and Willow, the Slayer swung an arm around her sister's shoulder. "I like that," she said as the two marched towards the checkout. "Yep, I definitely think I like that alot."
***
Tara sat with her back against the foot of her bed, her legs still bent under her body. Willow still lay sprawled across her lap, one arm tucked under her body as the other remained wrapped around Tara's back. Several minutes had passed, and Willow's labored weeping had slowly given way to a smoother, more rythmic breathing; the blonde soon realized that Willow had, quite literally cried herself to sleep. As more time passed, Tara sat up, letting the hand that stroked Willow's hair continue to do so, while the other reached behind her back to retrieve the abandoned notebook lodged there. Tara sat for a long time, staring at the bound pages, wanting so very much to read more of the beautiful words hidden within. To Tara, it was like a secret window; every word, every page, leading her further down the mysterious, magical Rabbit Hole leading to the Wonderland that was Willow's heart. . . that was her soul.
But she couldn't read it.
She wouldn't read it.
Not without Willow's permission.
Not without her participation.
Not without her.
Period.
Tara set the book beside her, smiling down at her Willow. Together. We'll share it. . . Together.
Almost as if Willow had heard Tara's thoughts out loud, she began to stir. Rising towards consciousness, she took in a deep breath, snuggling closer to the warmth of Tara's body. As she became more aware of her surroundings, slow images came to her waking mind, a developing montage ultimately revealing clear, full color pictures of. . . her and. . . Tara.
But there was something in these images that was different, different than any others she had had before: they were not memories of the past, and they weren't from a dream.
They were real.
They were happening.
Newly-made pictures, pictures she had created with Tara this very day, brought her quickly to consciousness. Willow's body tightened. "Tara."
Tara felt Willow's body suddenly tense up, and she smiled, her hand stilling in the redhead's soft hair. "Yes," Tara answered, though in her heart she knew that Willow probably hadn't even realized she had said her name out loud.
Willow's eyes flew open instantly, focusing on a swirly pattern of a blue and green shirt. She rolled her head back, looking up until her eyes met Tara's. Willow's body relaxed, melting back into the blonde's lap. "Tara," she said once more.
Tara tilted her head so she could level her eyes with Willow's. "Again I say, yes."
Willow smiled, tightening her arm around Tara's hip and back. Thank you. . . . Tara's smile widened. And then, a slight flush touched Willow's neck and cheeks and her eyes rolled down Tara's body, taking in her own.
Tara slid her hand from Willow's hair to her cheek, cupping it softly. "It's okay," she said in a low, calm voice.
Willow pivoted again, looking up into pools of blue. She swallowed before saying, "I fell asleep."
"I know." Tara rubbed her thumb over Willow's cheek. "It's still okay."
"No, it's not. I mean, how rude is that? We come here to talk, and we-- and then I-- and then we-- and then I. . . I fell asleep?"
Whoa. . . Willow sentence. Tara gave her a lopsided grin. "If it'll make you feel any better, so did my legs," Tara said in a joking manner. Willow's face looked so suddenly stricken, that Tara's smile disappeared instantly. Wha-- oh, no, Willow, no. "I didn't mea--"
"Oh, God, Tara, I'm sorry," Willow said frantically, releasing Tara in an attempt to push herself off the blonde's lap.
Tara quickly moved her hand from Willow's face to her shoulder and grasped it firmly. "No." Willow stopped, inches above her, her green eyes staring up at her questioningly. "Please. . . don't go." Willow hesitated. "Here," Tara offered, uncurling her legs and stretching them out before her. She released Willow's shoulder and let her hand rest on her upper leg. "All better."
Willow smiled. All better. She lowered herself back down to the floor, and Tara lifted her hand just long enough for Willow to lay her head back down.
Immediately, Tara's hand settled on Willow's head; she let the redhead's soft, fine hair twine through her fingers, luxuriating in the silky texture. All better. Willow's eyes closed as Tara continued to stroke her hair. Tara smiled. "Going to sleep again, are you?"
Willow smiled, but her eyes remained closed. She shook her head slightly and brought a hand to rest beside her head on Tara's leg. "Uh-uh."
"Good," Tara said, tucking a strand of hair behind Willow's ear. A sudden, but comfortable, silence filled the room. Tara leaned her head back and looked up at the ceiling; closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, sighing with a contentment she had not felt in ages. Feeling a slight pressure on her leg, she opened her eyes, letting them fall upon Willow once again.
"I agree," Willow said, still not opening her eyes.
Tara's smile widened. "Agree with what?" she asked playfully.
Willow took a deep breath and exhaled contentedly. "Just. . . ."
Tara's thumb grazed Willow's cheek, causing the redhead to open her eyes; sparkling emeralds met cornflower blue and Tara felt herself falling into their depths, tumbling head-over-heels endlessly until she felt she could no longer tell the difference between her heart and Willow's.
They were one.
As they should be.
Always.
She moved her hand until her palm cupped Willow's cheek; when Willow moved her hand from Tara's leg to cover it, the blonde felt her heart surge. My Willow. . . my heart.
The two sat for several quiet seconds, completely lost in one another. And then, Tara saw Willow's face slacken, go blank. Tara's heart surged again, but not in a happy or warm way; this time, she felt panic, she felt fear. Her smile disappeared as quickly as Willow's. "W-Will--" she began.
Willow bolted upright, this time too quick for Tara to stop her. "Tara!"
The panic in Willow's voice scared Tara. "W-What. . . ?" she stammered, bracing herself against the bed for whatever was coming. Oh, Goddess. . . .
"Your class. . ." Willow started, glancing at the clock quickly, "is in, like ten minutes."
Tara remained silent, the sound of her heartbeat, her blood, pounding in her ears. Willow's words echoed in her mind, but the blonde still couldn't quite grasp them. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came forth. W-What. . . ? Tara stared at Willow for several more seconds and then, suddenly she . . .
. . . laughed.
Willow's brow drew together in confusion, and the blonde laughed harder, her body slumping against the bed. She covered her mouth with her hands, trying in vain to quiet her guffaws. Oh, Goddess. . . .
"What?"
Tara just shook her head, finally able to contain herself enough to lower her hands from her face. She wiped an errant tear from her cheek while Willow just looked at her, an expression of confusion still etched on her face. "Oh, Willow. . . ."
"What?"
"I just. . . I don't really care about that-- not right now, anyway."
Willow's expression shifted from one of confusion to one of, 'are you crazy?' "But, Tara. . ." the redhead began, shifting so she faced Tara more fully.
"But what?"
"It's midterm review," Willow said, as if that should explain everything.
This time it was Tara's turn to stare at Willow with an 'are you crazy?' expression. "Whe-- I-- How do you know that?"
Willow paused, then scratched her forehead as she looked for the right words. "Uh. . . ." Tara raised her eyebrows questioningly. "I wasn't spying," Willow said.
Spying? Umm. . . What? "How did you kno--"
"It was movie night," Willow said, "and Dawn said you had class, so you couldn't make it anymore." She paused again, almost wanting to add, 'because of me,' but she held her tongue. "So I-- I hacked into the University computer looking for classes that you might be taking."
Tara was silent for a moment. Then, "You hacked into my records?"
"Oh, no, Tara," Willow said, scooting closer, "no, no records. Never. I would never do that. Well, I mean, not never-never, cause you know, yeah, I have done that. More than once." Realizing how that sounded, the redhead rushed on. "But that was Scooby stuff, and we needed the information to, you know, like save the world and stuff, so I don't think that should really count against me, cause I wasn't breaking in for personal gain or anything. Well, unless you count using the information to prevent myself from being killed in some horrible way as personal gain." The redhead took a breath. "But, Tara, I swear, I didn't read your records. I just accessed the University catalogue for the Arts." Tara said nothing. Willow's panic rose another notch. "I created a program to use the information I found in the University computer and the track you were studying before you lef-- what you had been studying before, calculating days and times and. . . ."
"And?' Tara finally asked.
"It came up with twenty-six possibilities."
"Twenty-six. . . ?"
"Possible classes you could be taking on movie night."
Tara nodded, amazed at what lengths the redhead had gone to to know where she was when she wasn't with the Scoobies. When she wasn't with her. The knowledge made her heart ache. "So, um, how did you. . . ."
A flush creeped up Willow's throat. "Well. . . ."
Tara watched the redhead for a moment, thoughts racing through her mind; with a sudden realization, the blonde knew. She shook her head slightly. "No." Willow shrugged, her shoulders rising up just as her head ducked down. "No, Willow, you didn't."
Willow looked at her, shrugging again. "It was only twenty-six," she said.
"You actually attended twenty-six classes-- classes that weren't yours-- just to find out which one I was taking?"
Willow was quiet for a second, then shrugged again. "I didn't actually attend-attend. I just waited to see if you went in. . ." Again she paused, then under her breath she whispered, "Or out."
Tara's heart fluttered anew with the redhead's confession. She reached out and softly tucked a strand of hair behind Willow's ear. When green eyes met hers, she smiled, "That's attending Sweetie. . . you just didn't take notes."
Willow flushed again. She lowered her eyes from Tara's, suddenly ashamed of her behavior. I was spying. . . .
"Willow," Tara said, touching the redhead's face with her fingertips. Willow let Tara's touch raise her eyes to the blonde's. "I'm not angry." Willow's face relaxed. "I just think--. . . I just wish you would've asked me."
Willow swallowed. "Well, that would've actually entailed the whole exchanging of words and, um, well, we kinda went over it-- the me-being-afraid-to-talk-to-you-cause-I-thought-you-hated-me thing?" One corner of Tara's mouth turned up. "Maybe I did go about it the hard way. Maybe I got too caught up in the hacker thing, Unabridge-ing it when Cliff's Notes would do, I don't know." Willow sighed, exasperated with herself. "Okay, so I didn't really think it all the way through. I was just--"
"Being you," Tara finished, sliding her palm to Willow's cheek.
Willow sighed again. "Yeah. . . ."
Tara smiled. Thank the Goddess for you. . . . Tara's smile slowly faded as she looked into Willow's eyes. "Willow?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes."
"Willow," Tara repeated, moving her hand from Willow's cheek into her hair at the back of her neck. "Can I. . . can I please kiss you now?"
"Oh. . ." Willow said, her body tingling all over from Tara's words. . . from Tara's touch.
Tara pushed herself away from the bed, leaning forward towards Willow. "Oh, yes, or oh, no."
Willow swallowed. "Oh, yes," she said, dropping a hand to the floor to steady herself. She mirrored Tara's movement, leaning forward. "Definitely oh, yes."
Tara's heart lept. With no further hesitation, she moved both hands to cup Willow's face; she gently tugged the redhead to her. Willow. . . .
Willow's heart hammered inside of her chest, pounding an erratic beat so loudly she was sure Tara could hear it. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. Taralips. . . on my lips. Willow's every sense was filled with the blonde, and she found her eyes drifting closed as Tara's face neared hers.
Tara felt Willow's breath fan over her face and she smiled, closing her own eyes as she moved in to close the distance between them at last.
ZZZRRRRIIINNNGGGGG.
The shrill of a maniacal alarm clock shattered the silence, causing Willow and Tara to both jump; their eyes flew open as they pulled apart instantly. "Wh-what the Hell's that!" Willow yelled, her tone freaked.
Tara turned away from Willow and looked towards her nightstand, where a small alarm clock sat, blaring the time for all to know. Glancing back to Willow, she gave the redhead a shy smile. "I-- sorry," she said as she used the bed to leverage herself to her feet; she moved quickly to the bedtable and clicked off the offending device. "I forgot-- I set it for class," Tara explained, facing Willow once more. Smooth, Tara, really, very smooth, way to kill the mood.
Willow shook her head, smiling broadly. She pushed herself to her feet and smoothed out her shirt. "Kinda killed the mood, huh?"
Tara stared at Willow silently, never ceasing to be amazed at just how well they could read one another. "It doesn't have to be."
Willow smiled, and pushed her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. "Tara!" she said, a hint of faux-shock in her voice.
"Well. . ." Tara answered, a smile mirroring the redhead's.
Willow's heart filled with joy, and she walked over to Tara, extricating her hands from her pockets and wrapping the blonde in her embrace in one fluid movement. Tara's arms moved of their own volition, circling the redhead's body and holding her tightly. They stayed that way for long, contented seconds, basking in the feeling of being close to one another, of just holding one another. Then, Willow took a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly as she spoke. "I. . . think you should go to class." Big loser. . . now who's the mood killer?
Tara didn't exactly stiffen in Willow's arms, but she became perfectly still. "You d-- why?" I want to stay here. . . with my Willow.
Willow loosened her arms and pulled baack, keeping her hands clasped together behind Tara. She gave the blonde a soft smile. "Cause," she started, dropping her eyes to Tara's lips briefly before returning her gaze to Tara's eyes. "You set your alarm." Tara shifted, but before the blonde could make any protest, Willow brought a hand around and placed a finger over her lips. "Baby, it's class, it's review. . . it's important."
Tara looked deeply into Willow's eyes. I do. . . I do just love Willow Rosenberg. She placed a soft kiss against the finger pressed over her lips.
Willow smiled and lowered her finger, letting her hand trail down Tara's throat before dropping to her side. "Besides," she said, pushing her hands into her front pockets while Tara still held her. "I can wait."
Tara tilted her head, her eyes taking on a slight squint as she considered Willow's statement. She can wait. . . wait to what? Wait to kiss me? Wait here in my room? Tara smiled'her patented lopsided smile and released the redhead. So long as I know she's waiting. . . . "Okay," Tara said finally, gently tucking a strand of hair behind the redhead's ear.
Willow's smile broadened to a full-fledged 'grin of triumph'. Yeah, I still got it. . . . "Okay," she echoed, stepping back and moving to the foot of the bed.
"You're sure?" Tara asked, one last time, still not quite convinced that she wanted to leave.
Willow bent down and picked up her notebook; she faced Tara as she closed the book. "I am," she said, running her fingers over the glossy cover. "You go to class, get all brainy and stuff."
Tara laughed and nodded. Glancing at the clock, she gave a half-shrug. "I-- I guess I better go then."
Willow nodded. "Okay."
Tara moved past Willow to her desk and retrieved her books and sweater. "So. . . ?"
"I'll see you later," Willow said firmly.
"Yes," Tara said, though she made no move to leave. They continued to stare at each other, motionless. Then, "I love you, Willow."
Willow blinked slowly, the words warming her heart, her soul, like liquid fire. "I love you, too."
Tara nodded and smiled; swallowing the lump that had suddenly found its way to her throat, she turned to go. Opening the door, she gave Willow one last glance. "Bye."
"Bye, Baby." And with that, Tara stepped outside and closed the door behind her. Willow stared at the door for what seemed like hours, wanting nothing more than to throw it open and pull Tara back inside to be with her.
But instead, she turned away from the door. Buffy. . . I need to call Buffy. . . . Moving to the nightstand, Willow couldn't help but smile when she thought of her best friend, of what she had done to help her and Tara find their way back to one another. . . . and thank her. . . . Willow had just picked up the receiver, ready to let her 'fingers do the walking,' when the door banged open loudly. Startled, she turned around to find Tara striding purposely across the small room towards her. "Tar--"
Tara dropped her books and sweater on the floor without a care, seizing Willow's face in her two hands and crushing her lips down on the redhead's in one go. Willow's grasp on the notebook and phone faltered, and rather than fight, she let them drop from her hands, not hearing the commotion they made as they joined Tara's things on the floor. Willow grabbed onto Tara, grasping the material of the blonde's shirt in her fists as she pulled her closer. Tara's tongue touched Willow's lips, running over their edges, asking for entrance; Willow acquiesced, moaning as her own tongue met Tara's, tasting one another again. . .
. . . for the first time.
Then, as swiftly as it had started, Tara broke the kiss. She pulled back until she could look into Willow's eyes, knowing her own were clouded with a passion that could no longer be denied. "I c-can't," Tara said, her breath coming in sharp deep rasps.
Willow's eyes, darkened by her own need, looked deeply into the blonde's; when she spoke, it was in a ragged whisper. "Can't. . . ?"
"I can't wait," Tara confessed before pressing her lips against Willow's once again.
Thank the Goddess.
TBC
Kris
"Frell that!"
by littlecrazy80 » Sun Nov 03, 2002 11:37 am 
Oh thank you for the update. Loved buffy's dance. Can't wait for more, oh wonderous writer. *bows* 
*C skips off to read the update* i'll be back!!!
and it was lovely, and sweet 
or tomorrow?! 
hope you're having a great time in Italy! 