Axel_Avalon - Hey, an Evanescence fan! Amy Lee is so gorgeous... anyway. I'm glad you like it so much. Yay for smilies!
viximon - I'm glad you liked Willow's little thought-babble. I thought I needed to lighten the mood a little, and that seemed to be a good way to do it without destroying the moment. I imagine Tara will suffer a little, yes, as all characters do, but after this chapter I hope for most of her suffering to be over. And soon my other reason for giving Tara scars shall be revealed...
sam - I'm glad you like it! Yes, Tara is very vulnerable, but I thought that was fitting. After all - she is, at least with Willow. And how else would Willow react but to love her more for it?
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Title: A Year of Souls
Author: Naeryn
Spoilers: Only if you never knew that Willow and Tara were together. Which, honestly, if you don’t, then you’re in for a surprise on this site.
Ratings: R/NC17 – I say both because NC17 generally only refers to scenes of a sexual nature, while in here there’s rather descriptive violence as well. Or there will be.
Disclaimer: The day I own Willow and Tara is the day the earth rotates backwards and hell freezes over – and all the Canadians down there start playing hockey!
*Nor do I have any rights to bic lighters.*
Notes: The biggest angst warning you can imagine times two. Tara’s entire painful history is written here… and if you can’t handle very descriptive emotional and physical pain, I’d suggest that you get the hell out. Plus, a very mushy ending. I’m a sucker for the mushy endings.
Willow smiled over at Tara, tilting her head to momentarily rest her head on the taller woman’s shoulder. She couldn’t believe how much she loved this woman already, they’d known each other for such a short time.
The two girls’ hands found each other, fingers twining together as they walked down the street towards the Espresso Pump. Willow looked over at the blond by her side. The closer they got to the coffee shop, the more Tara seemed to withdraw from her.
What’s up with her? She said she needed to talk, but what could it be? She obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, whatever it is…
Tara was equally lost in thought, eyes cast down at the cement passing beneath her feet.
I don’t want to tell her. Can’t we just stay like we are, and not worry about the future, or the past, or anything except us, together, right now? She sighed inwardly.
No. We can’t. It’ll come out eventually, and if she finds out that way… besides. If it’s going to end between us, I’d rather have it be now than after I’ve fallen even harder for her than I already have. I’d say it isn’t possible, but I just know that something will happen to make that a lie. Even all of that aside, it’s best to tell her before she goes and tells her friends about us…
The Espresso Pump loomed ahead menacingly, or it seemed so to Tara. She knew that once she stepped inside, that would be it. She would have to tell all. She knew that once she was done, she would want nothing more than to run and hide in Willow’s arms… but would they still be there for her to hide in? She hoped so. She desperately hoped so.
Willow and Tara stepped together from the sidewalk to the linoleum floor of the coffee shop. It had only two walls, the other two sides were open to the air. It was something they’d both loved about the place. Willow turned to face Tara. “Grab us a table, baby? I’ll get us a couple of mochas.” Tara nodded stiffly and turned away, squeezing her eyes shut.
Maybe if I wish hard enough, it won’t be true…
The redhead walked away, up towards the counter. “Two extra large double double mochas please.” She looked over at Tara, who seemed to be looking anywhere but at Willow. Her eyes focused on the blond.
She seems so nervous. I wonder what she can have to say to me? I know she said it’s about her past, but she seems almost… afraid.
When the guy came back, she took the two cups and walked over to Tara. She’d chosen a table in the corner, by the two existent walls of the shop. She sat down across from her.
Tara looked up sharply, carefully avoiding Willow’s eyes. In a weak attempt to make light, she smiled – it didn’t reach her eyes. “Mocha?”
Willow nodded and pushed one cup towards her. A brief silence as both young women sipped their drinks, and then the redhead spoke. “Tara… we were fine, back in my dorm room. The closer we got to here, the more tense and apprehensy you got.” She took a breath and held up her hand when Tara would have spoken. “I just… whatever it is, you don’t have to talk about it. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to tell me. If you need to wait, think about it or whatever, that’s fine. I can wait. I’ll listen, but only if you’re sure you want me to.”
Tara squeezed her eyes shut. “I do. I mean… I don’t, not really. But I have to.” She paused, screwing up her courage. “Willow… I’m a demon.”
Willow’s eyes flew open as she searched Tara’s face. The blond willed herself to meet her love’s eyes for what she feared might be the last time. “That’s why.” She gestured faintly towards her wrist, so faintly that someone not paying as close attention to her as Willow was would likely have missed it. “Or partially why. It… see, when I t-turn twenty… that’s n-next year… it’ll… come out.” She took a deep breath, willing herself to stop shaking. She wasn’t really sure when she’d started. “It’s what happened to my m-mother. All the women in m-my family. That’s why… why dad and D-Donnie…”
Willow’s eyes narrowed. “Why they hit you? To keep the demon at bay?”
Tara nodded.
Willow closed her eyes and bit her lip. She seemed to be thinking about something.
Here it comes. ‘Tara, I can’t be with you. I can’t be with someone who isn’t even human…’ Tara looked down at her hands where her fingers were playing tag with each other. “No.”
She looked up sharply. “W-what?”
“No. I don’t believe it. For one thing, I’ve done a lot of research on demons. A LOT of research. I’ve never heard of any kind that lies dormant until the twentieth birthday, never heard of one that looks 100% human… and certainly not one that can be controlled by domestic abuse.” Willow shook her head confidently. “I don’t believe it. I think your family is just crazy, and that’s just some story to keep the ego-inflated testosterone types in charge. When really, they should all be locked up. Either jail or an institution, I’m not sure which. Maybe they could go to both, kind of like joint custody. You know, a week here, a week there…”
Tara’s eyes filled with tears as she heard Willow’s words. They made so much… sense.
Could it be true? But then… where does the magic come from? Tara sighed, her brief flash of hope gone.
“No, W-Willow. I am… I have to b-be.”
“Why?”
“M-magic. I do m-magic. Where else could it c-come from?”
Willow stared at her a moment, then smiled, and finally burst out laughing. She quickly stopped though when she saw the hurt look on the face she loved so much. “Baby… I’m not a demon. I do magic too. We haven’t really talked about that, I wanted to… Well, I thought maybe we could do a spell together or something. That’s beside the point though, see, having magic doesn’t mean you’re a demon. I know for a fact that I’m not, and I can still do spells. I mean, not really well, most of my potions turn out soup, plus the nosebleeds…” she shook her head. “I still don’t believe it. I think you’ve been through a really rough time, with a nutjob father and whoever this Donnie guy is…” she trailed off as she saw Tara’s pained look.
“D-D-Donnie is… my brother.”
“Oh, Tara…” Willow got up and stepped around the table, wrapping her arms tightly around the blond. “Where was your mother for all this? Didn’t she try and stop any of it?”
Tara bit her lip. “I… Even if I’m not a d-demon,” She paused, thinking.
Is that even possible? Is it… how can I not be? She smiled a little, allowing herself to believe that Willow just might be right. After all, she’d always known her father and brother were chauvenists, and she wouldn't put it past them to spin a tale like that. “I still have to tell y-you about my p-past. My c-childhood.” Willow sat back down, nodding. “I’ve always b-been abused. From the time I was f-five, I was told that I w-was bad. E-e-e-e-e-evil.” She stuttered heavily over the word, having to force it between her teeth. Willow’s hand snaked across the table, fingers twining with Tara’s. Gently, her thumb began caressing the palm of Tara’s hand. “I never t-thought to question it. My m-mother believed it too, about m-me, about her. Whenever Dad or D-Donnie would start to… she would s-step in. Literally, she’d make them g-go after her instead of me. She taught me spells, magic, healing and protection mostly. Taught me all about W-Wicca. ‘An it harm none, do what ye will’. I always thought… I never understood how something that seemed so good could come from a place of darkness, inside her, inside me. But hearing it enough… I started not only to believe it, but to… feel it.”
Tears began to ease themselves out from Tara’s eyes, inching their way down her cheeks to be wiped away by Willow’s hand.
How can I just tell her all of this? Why am I giving her this? She could just use it against me, everyone else... but she's not like everyone else, is she?
The redhead remained silent, letting Tara speak. She noticed she’d stopped stuttering once she’d really started talking.
How long has she needed to talk about this? How long has she kept all of this pain hidden? Willow wondered silently.
“I could feel it inside me. The darkness, moving… alive. The more I felt it, the more I knew I deserved… what I got. What they gave me. It started to feel like it wasn’t enough. Not what I went through at home, not what the kids at school gave me. They threw things, you know. They um… they didn’t like me. I was too shy, too introverted. They threw things, and called me names, and Donnie made it worse. But not worse enough. Nothing was bad enough, because I was… bad. Wrong.”
Willow sighed, barely audibly. Those were the words she’d used to describe herself before, when Willow had seen her like that, half naked and bleeding…
“So I… I started to hurt myself. First I just… I threw myself into walls and things. I was literally beating myself up over it. Whenever I did badly at something, whenever I’d feel that surge of darkness in me…
“That’s how it started, anyway. With that darkness. Soon I started getting down on myself in other ways. I told myself I was stupid, fat, ugly… I was bulimic for awhile, but couldn’t really keep it up. It didn’t hurt enough. After beating myself came cutting. First just little scratches, the paper towel dispenser along my arm when I went to the bathroom at school, a loose staple sticking out of the table in the art room, things like that. It wasn’t enough for very long though. It got worse… it always gets worse. I took to cutting myself, really drawing blood. I… I burnt myself too. My hips, mostly. There are a bunch of marks there… but I stopped that after awhile, only the little bic lighters worked well and they cost too much to keep replacing. Through it all, Dad and Donnie made me their slave. I did all the chores, I cooked, I cleaned… if I did something wrong, I paid for it. I’d get beaten, and once…” She bit off the sentence. “My… Dad, he…”
Willow was fighting back tears of her own, feeling acutely the pain that Tara described.
If only I could take that away from her… She swallowed hard. “Love… did he… did he rape you?” Tara nodded slowly, and Willow couldn’t hold back the floodgates any longer. Tears fell freely from her eyes.
If he comes near her again, I will kill him… dismember, at the very least. One 'member' in particular. Tara drew a shuddering breath, closing her eyes for a moment before continuing.
“It went on like that for awhile. My style changed… I stopped wearing anything but long skirts or pants and long sleeved shirts, to cover the wounds. I learned pretty quickly that the wrist was a bad place to do it, it’s too noticeable. I cut just about everywhere I could reach… well, you saw, you know. In some ways it was the worst time of my life. And in some ways…” her already quiet voice dropped to a whisper. “It was the best. It made everything easier to deal with. All I had to do was bleed a little and that darkness would go away, everything anyone had said to me to make me feel horrible… it was all true. But I’d punished myself for it, so I could put it away and it didn’t matter anymore. The pain never stayed away, of course… but it left for awhile, long enough for me to take a breath and gather the courage to step back into the world again.
“Kids at school found out. I got called a psycho, a freak… I had some people ask me why I hadn’t… why I didn’t just… kill myself and…” She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. “Just make it better for everyone. I even… I almost tried, once. Took a bunch of sleeping pills…but I stopped myself before I took enough… I was just knocked out for a few hours, and I had a bad headache when I woke up. After that… I got worse. My cutting, I mean… I told myself I was weak. I don’t know if I meant because I tried to kill myself or because I failed to…
“When I was seventeen, my mom died. Cancer. She wasted away… we knew it was coming for months, but it still felt sudden. I didn’t realize how much she’d done for me, how much she’d protected me… the beatings got worse. I learned that there were other people who did what I did, people who… hurt themselves. Self-injurers, or self-harmers… some people even did things like cutting words into their skin. I tried that, after mom died. After my life went from bad to worse. I couldn’t do it though… I couldn’t cut slow enough to make the word… I tried to carve ‘worthless’ into my thigh.”
Tara looked up again, meeting Willow’s eyes. “It was just shy of a year later that I ran away. Packed up a couple of boxes, called a cab to meet me at the end of the street, and left in the middle of the night. I haven’t seen my family since…” She dropped her gaze again, focusing on the mochas that sat, forgotten, in front of the two young women.
A heavy silence descended as they both fought their own pain. Finally, with a gasping sob, Tara broke. She’d managed to keep most of her tears at bay through her exhausting speech, but could do it no longer. She dropped her head to the table, her breath coming in shuddering gasps as she cried.
Willow quickly hurried around the table, knocking her stool over in the process. She laid one hand lightly on Tara’s back. The blond turned and leaned into Willow, burying her face in the redhead’s shoulder. Willow’s arms wrapped tightly around her, clutching her desperately.
Oh love… I wish you’d never had to go through that. Any of that…
*****
Tara lay on her bed, wrapped in loose flannel pajamas. Her eyes were red and swollen, she felt like she hadn’t any more tears to shed. Willow had already called Buffy and told her she’d be gone all night… studying, she’d said, with Tara. She was just out changing into one of Tara’s spare nightgowns.
The door opened slowly. “Tara?” Willow sounded hesitant. “Are you decent?”
“Mmm hmm…” Tara’s voice was dull and apathetic.
Willow stepped in and closed the door behind her, quickly closing the distance between herself and the bed. She sat on the end, one foot pulled up underneath her. She appeared pensive for a moment, and then she spoke again. “Tara… why didn’t you tell me about any of this before? Why didn’t you tell me that you hurt yourself, that you were in so much pain?”
Tara bit her lip. “I was… I was afraid that if you knew… who I was, what I’d done… that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me.”
Willow sighed. “See, that’s where you’re a dummy.” She stretched out on the bed beside Tara, resting one hand lightly on the blond’s stomach. “I look at what you grew up with, and then I look at what you are… it makes me proud. It makes me love you more.” She leant over and pressed her lips gently against Tara’s.
Tara smiled faintly. “Every time I…” She paused and closed her eyes, trying to find the right words. “Even when I’m at my worst, you always make me feel special. How do you do that?”
Willow smiled and pulled her closer. “Magic.”
Tara shifted a little so she could rest her head on Willow’s chest. “Goddess, Will… I love you, so much.”
Willow kissed the top of Tara’s head lightly. “I love you too, baby.” Tara closed her eyes.
“Sweetie… you know, it’s… it’s strange. When you… when you hold me, like this… I can’t feel it.”
Lightly, the redhead ran the tips of her fingers over Tara’s arm. “Can’t feel what, baby?”
“The darkness… when I’m with you, it’s not there anymore. I don’t need to… I don’t need to hurt to make it go away.” Tara clutched the redhead tighter and took a deep breath, drifting off to sleep to the sound of the redhead’s heartbeat.