Sheesh, you'd think I'd know the difference between the "preview" button and the "submit" button.
So I had this choice, you see. I could let this update sit and marinate on my computer for another century or so, or I could post what I had and hopefully use that as motivation to finish part B in a timely manner. So here it is. Have at it. And thanks to all the kittens who've nudged, poked, and PM'd me into writing again. Two years is a long time.
Author: Foomatic
Title: She's Got A Way
Summary: That demon locator spell episode. I'm too lazy to look it up.
Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the shirt off my back
Feedback: Is always welcomed and appreciated!
Special thanks to Zooeys_Bridge aka Rach, for all the encouragement, and not making me feel like I need to take a remedial writing class. Heh.
SHE’S GOT A WAY
Part VIII A: Sparks
Tara had played the words on her answering machine over and over again, trying to analyze every inflection and tone of Willow’s message. More than anything, Tara hoped that this visit would be more than just a simple social call. She had managed to calm her nerves considerably in the minutes before the arrival of the redhead, but a soft knock on the door was enough to send them back over the edge.
The excitement Tara felt at having Willow in her room again evaporated when the redhead suggested doing the demon locator spell. Not wanting to disappoint her, Tara reluctantly obliged, only to dump the contents of her hand under the bed instead of blowing it into the air. Now, as she watched Willow stare at the makeshift map of Sunnydale, Tara felt guilty having sabotaged the spell. But there was no other way, she thought. If she finds out . . .
Willow went over the spell in her head, carefully reciting the incantation to see if she had missed anything. In her haste to meet Tara, she had forgotten her spell book, so the reason for the botched spell was anyone's guess.
"Maybe we could try again," Willow said with determination as she reached for the container of mixed herbs. "There's enough left to -"
"No!" The outburst from the normally reserved blonde startled Willow. "S-sorry," Tara stammered, aware of the forcefulness of her voice. "It's just . . . I've been feeling kinda unbalanced today? That might be what's throwing the spell off," she replied quickly. "M-m-maybe some other t-time?"
"Oh . . . okay." Willow watched as Tara fidgeted in her seat, a frown clouding her soft features. Was it something I said? Willow wondered. As Tara began to gather the strewn herbs into a small pile in front of her, it dawned on Willow that not once had she mentioned the night of Bacchanal. No, you spaz, it's what you didn't say.
"Tara?" Willow whispered. Tara looked up nervously. Willow smiled at her before tenderly hooking Tara's index finger with her own. "I really meant what I said earlier, about the not coming over just for the spells," she said as her thumb began gently rubbing circles around the joint of Tara's finger. "I wanted to see you."
"Oh?" Tara murmured.
"Yeah." Willow paused for a moment, hesitating slightly, before slowly gathering the rest of Tara's fingers in her hand and lightly brushing her thumb across her knuckles. "Things have been kinda crazy. There's this new demon on the loose, and Buffy's pretty much made it her sole purpose in life to destroy it."
"D-d-demon?" Tara choked on the word.
"Oh, it's okay!" Willow reassured as she placed a hand on Tara’s knee. "Nothing to worry about, Buffy's handled worse. Really, it's no big. Just your run of the mill baddie, you know, cause, with the Hellmouth . . . I just thought I could help her out with the spell and all." Willow scooped the scattered herbs into the container before turning her attention back to the woman in front of her. Tara still seemed withdrawn, absentmindedly playing with the fringes of her carpet.
"Speaking of spells," Willow continued, hoping to lighten the mood, "the other night, with the butterflies? That was . . . wow. Where'd you learn how to do that?"
Tara lifted her eyes and saw the genuine curiosity in Willow's gaze. "Oh, that . . . That was nothing, really," she replied with a dismissive shrug.
"Nothing? Tara, it was like the Fourth of July in here! I haven't seen anything that lit up since we blew up the high school."
Tara smiled in spite of herself, remembering the story Willow had told her about graduation. It made her laugh to think of Willow involved in anything other than academics and computers, let alone a plot to eliminate the major by way of leveling Sunnydale High.
Willow was relieved to see that the frown had disappeared from Tara's face and was replaced by a smile. "So?"
"It was kinda cool, huh?" Tara agreed shyly. "That was the first spell my mom taught me. When I was little, I had a tendency of running off into the fields by our house, you know, chasing some small w-w-woodland creature or another," Tara chuckled at the memory. "Mom was always worried that I wouldn't find my way back, so she taught me the spell. If I went too far out, or lost my direction, I'd do the incantation, and then a little blue spark would appear and lead me home. Simple as that. Over the years I fiddled around with it, and found out that I could manipulate the sparks into shapes. A little tweak here and there, and voila! Sparky butterflies. I can also do dragonflies, horses, and lemurs," Tara finished with pride.
Willow cocked an eyebrow. "Lemurs?"
"I was looking for a challenge."
Both women laughed. Feeling a bit more confident, Tara positioned her hand so that it was palm to palm against Willow 's. "Maybe one of these days I can teach you?" she asked eagerly. "It's fairly easy. You just call on the goddess Aradia-“
Willow winced and let out a nervous laugh, ”Aradia? Yeah, Aradia and I have quite a dysfunctional relationship. Last time I called on her I got chased down a hallway by an army of angry green sparks." Tara gave her a bemused look. "It was a thing," Willow replied, embarrassed. She glanced at her watch and sighed. "I've got to get back to the gang. They're going to worry. With this demon on the loose everyone is on edge, so . . . " But still, Willow made no move to get up. She felt Tara's hand start to pull away, and quickly grasped it. “Wait.” Willow hesitated for a second, startled by her own boldness. Her heart started to pound as Tara gazed at her expectantly.
“I . . . um,” Willow stammered. “I wanted to let you know that . . . I . . . really enjoyed the other night. With you. A-and the butterflies. But mostly with you.”
“Me too, Willow,” Tara replied, dipping her head to hide the enormous blush creeping across her face.
When can I see you again?" Willow whispered.
"Wh-what are you doing tomorrow?"
"I have to wait until tomorrow?" Willow replied playfully.
"Oh I didn't – I thought that you . . . maybe h-h-had something you needed to do tonight . . ."
Willow smiled at the flustered blonde. "Tara, it's okay. Tomorrow is great."
"Okay." Tara smiled nervously and nodded her head. "Noonish? At the Espresso Pump?"
"It's a date!" Willow blurted giddily, until her brain registered the words that came out of her mouth. "I mean . . . unless you don't . . . it could be a meeting? O-or a rendezvous?" Now it was Willow's turn to be flustered. "Cause date implies, you know, and if it was . . . a date . . . I wouldn't take you out for coffee . . . dinner and a movie, maybe . . . a walk in the park . . . unless you wanted to get coffee? On a date . . . I could do that-"
"Willow?" Tara’s voice broke the babble spilling out of her mouth.
"Huh?"
"I don't . . . it doesn't matter what we call it," she said quietly, squeezing Willow’s hand. "Just as long as it involves us spending time together. Is – is that okay?"
Willow looked at her for a moment, and slowly let out the breath she had been holding. "I'd really like that."
"Okay." Tara stood, pulling Willow up with her. "So the Espresso Pump, noonish, tomorrow."
"Oh, I almost forgot!" Willow reached for her bag and began rummaging through it. "I wanted to give this back to you." She turned to Tara and offered the doll's eye crystal. "I haven't needed it since . . . that night, so . . . I thought you'd want it back."
"Oh," Tara murmured as Willow placed the crystal in her hand. Tara saw the disappointment in her own face reflected on its glassy surface as she cradled it with two hands. "I w-wanted you to keep it, Willow," she said, trying to hide the dismay in her voice.
"But Tara, I'm okay now, I don't need it-"
"I know." Tara dipped her head, causing her hair to fall over face. "I know," she whispered again. She took a step closer, reaching out slowly to take Willow’s hand. "But it's . . . it's s-s-something that I want to give to you. Please." She put the crystal back in Willow’s hand and held it there with her own. "I'd really appreciate if you kept it, Willow."
"Are you sure?" she asked, feeling the weight of crystal being pressed into her palm. "Cause I know how important it is to you-" She looked up, and in an instant, any reservations she had about accepting the crystal were challenged by the sincerity in Tara's eyes.
Tara nodded in ascent. "Please," she urged gently. Willow searched her face one more time for any lingering doubt before finally acquiescing.
"Okay," she whispered, feeling the familiar warmth of a blush spreading across her face as Tara gazed at her intently. The blonde smiled in return. Tara took back her hands, an action Willow was unprepared for, and the doll's eye crystal made a dull thud as it hit the carpet.
"Oh sorry-"
"That's okay I got it-"
The loud bang of two heads smacking together filled the room as Willow tumbled backwards with a yelp, and Tara fell to the floor, a hand clamped to her forehead.
Tara lay still for a moment, waiting for the pain to subside, and then, realizing the absurdity of the situation, let out a small laugh.
"Tara? Are you okay?" came Willow’s muffled voice.
"I'm fine Will. That's one helluva a noggin you got there – " Tara opened her eyes to see two legs sticking out of her closet.
"Good, cause . . . ow." A hand reached out and pushed open the half closed door, revealing a very rumpled Willow. "I think I punctured my kidneys on a pair of your heels," she grimaced, rubbing her back. "Oh yeah, that's gonna leave a mark." The door opened wider, and Willow felt Tara's presence as the blonde kneeled beside her.
"Where does it hurt?" Tara asked, placing a hand on Willow's thigh.
Willow leaned her head against the door frame. "You're not going to do that purple heally spell on me like you did in the laundry room, are you?" she grumbled with her eyes closed. "Cause, I'm okay really, and I'd prefer to have you conscious." She paused for a moment, blinking her eyes rapidly. "So yeah, um, no worries, I just have to, you know, sit and wait until I stop seeing two of you." With a forced laugh she buried her face in her hands.
"Hey," Tara whispered, extracting Willow’s hands from her face. She smiled as green eyes peered at her from beneath their eyelids. "Just show me where it hurts. I promise you no p-purple heally spells."
Willow responded with raised eyebrows. She considered for a moment, then lifted her arm and pointed to her right temple. "Well, you got me good here." Tara smiled again. She gave Willow's hand a slight squeeze before leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on the offending spot. Willow drew in a sharp breath at the touch of the blonde's lips. Memories of the previous evening came rushing back as the scent of jasmine permeated the air around her. She held her breath as Tara's lips withdrew and soulful blue eyes gazed deeply into hers.
"Better?"
Willow blushed profusely as she nodded her head. "Much."
"Anywhere else?"
"Um . . ." Willow's mouth went dry as she felt the blonde's fingertips brush a few stray locks of hair from her face. She cleared her throat. "I think my cheek made nice with one of your clogs," she said slowly, gauging Tara's reaction. "It kinda . . . stings here . . ." she mumbled, gesturing at the left side of her face.
Tara reached out and cupped Willow's chin, turning her head to the side to examine her cheek. "It is getting kinda red," she whispered, lightly stroking her face.
Willow felt her body stiffen as the blonde leaned closer, causing their bodies to come into contact with one another. Soft lips pressed into her cheek, followed by a gentle caress from Tara’s nose. The inches that separated them seemed like miles. Willow ached to be closer, and placed a hand on Tara’s hip, slowly closing the gap between them. She felt a hand travel to the back of her neck, and that was all the encouragement Willow needed to lean in and capture Tara’s lips with her own.
The kiss was soft, a gentle brushing of lips that was enough to seal the growing attraction between them. They parted, and sat on the floor in a content silence, exchanging shy glances and playing with each other’s hands.
"I really need to go,” Willow whispered with heavy disappointment. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Tara replied as she caught a glimpse of the doll’s eye crystal lying on the floor next to them. “Don’t move,” she said to Willow with a wry smile, “and nobody gets hurt. I’m going in."
Willow let out a small laugh as Tara retrieved the crystal and placed it back in her hand.
“So tomorrow then?” Willow asked as Tara pulled her to her feet.
“Noon at the Espresso Pump. I don’t think it can come soon enough."
With a smile, she led Willow to the door.
Willow turned the knob and stepped outside before turning around and facing Tara. They stood in front of each other, Willow fidgeting with a button on her jacket and Tara staring at her shoes, arms wrapped around her waist.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
The seconds ticked by.
“Um, I think this is the part where you say ‘good-bye’ and walk down the hall, and I close the door,” Tara suggested with a half smirk.
“You know what?” Willow chuckled nervously. “I think you’re right. Bye then.” Willow backed away slowly. With a goofy grin, she waved goodbye, and proceeded to bump into a couple walking down the hall.
“Sorry! Sorry . . . I didn’t see you there, sorry!” She yelled at them as they walked away slightly disgruntled. Willow turned back to Tara, who was trying very hard to suppress a giggle.
“Bye Willow.”
“Bye Tara.”
She watched as Willow walked down the hall, and didn’t close the door until she was completely out of sight.
Tara leaned back in her chair, enjoying the sight of Willow walking to the cashier to order their coffees. The walk to the Espresso Pump had been extremely pleasant, both of them recounting their mornings. Babble or not, Tara loved hearing Willow talk. Their bodies naturally gravitated together as they walked, and the occasional brush of hands was enough to send Tara’s senses into a tizzy. A sigh escaped her lips as her eyes continued to follow the slim figure as Willow made her way to the end of the line.
“Hey you,” said an eerily familiar voice.
Tara jumped. She turned her head, and felt the blood drain from her face at the sight of the person standing at the table. “How are you, Tara?”
Every muscle in her body tensed as she stared at the young woman, who pulled out a chair and sat with her arms folded on her lap and legs crossed underneath her, steadily gazing back at the surprised blonde.
“Nice to see you too,” the woman chuckled, pushing up the dark glasses that rested on the bridge of her nose. Her dark hair was tied up in a loose bun, with several tendrils hanging down, framing her round face. She looked expectantly at Tara, lips curved in a friendly smile.
Tara blinked repeatedly, shaking off her initial shock as she tried to form a response.
“I’m sorry, I just – Wh-what are you doing here?” Tara managed to sputter, taking a quick glance in Willow’s direction.
“Nothing really. Just thought I’d come by, visit an old friend.” She leaned back in her chair and stretched her legs out. “A friend of yours?” the woman asked, nodding her head at Willow.
“Um, yeah. A . . . friend.” Tara stared at her companion, her disbelief slowly turning into suspicion. “What are you doing here, Donna?” she said in a clipped tone.
The woman regarded her for a moment. “Still haven’t forgiven me, huh?”
“We haven’t spoken in two years Donna, and Sunnydale is more than a hop and a skip away from home.” Once again, she looked at Willow, hoping the redhead had not noticed her new companion.
The woman watched Tara closely, and her face softened. “Tara, it’s okay, I’m not here to- “ She paused, her lips forming a thin line. “I came to talk. To make peace. That’s it.”
Tara eyed her suspiciously. “I never stopped caring about you, you know?” She leaned in, gently placing her hands on top of Tara’s. “And just wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I treated you. More than anything, I don’t ever want you to have to go through that kind of hurt again.”
Tara let her guard down as Donna’s words sunk in. “You came all the way from Turlock to tell me that?”
She smiled, and glanced in Willow’s direction. “I saw you two walking up here earlier. Are you guys . . .?” The blush that appeared on Tara’s face silently answered her question. “You sure about her, Tara?” she said jokingly as turned to face the blonde.
Tara gave her a stern look. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing. I just meant . . .” Donna turned her eyes towards Willow, who was now at the head of the line, placing their order. “I guess I just don’t get the gay vibe from her,” she replied, wrinkling her nose. “But who am I to judge? You’d know better than I.” She smiled at Tara, and was surprised to see a frown on her face. “You are sure, right? Tara?”
The blonde stared at her helplessly. Donna laughed and shook her head. “Geez Tara, I thought that after our relationship crashed and burned you’d learn the difference between a straight girl and a lesbo.”
“Our relationship is none of your b-business, Donna.” She could feel her temper start to flair, and tried her best to keep her emotions in check as she spoke. “You know n-nothing about me, or Willow.” She turned her head just in time to see the barista hand Willow two coffee cups. “It was really nice seeing you again, but I think it’s time for you to g-go.”
“Seriously, Tara,” the woman leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, “even if her intentions are true, do you honestly think she’ll stick around after your twentieth birthday?”
The question made Tara’s heart stop. “How do you know about that?” Her eyes widened. “Did . . . did my father send you?”
Donna shrugged her shoulders. “The only thing I know is that you haven’t found a way to prevent it, or reverse it. And from what I hear, her friends don’t take kindly to your kind."
Tara began to panic. Her eyes flew toward Willow, who was fast approaching the table, coffees in hand. “You n-n-need to l-l-leave,” she stuttered at Donna, who just sat there and stared at her blankly.
Tara began to hyperventilate before feeling the blood rush from her head. Suddenly, the world around her slowed down; the sounds of the coffee shop became muted as if someone had stuffed cotton balls in her ears. The people moved around her in a dizzying blur, and Tara desperately tried to regain her equilibrium as her body became sluggish and unresponsive.
Willow was now standing at the table, talking to her, but Tara could not understand what she was saying. Donna had long since disappeared, but she was the least of her concerns. Tara reached out, hoping to grab the redhead’s arm to steady herself, to ground herself to something – anything – as her consciousness threatened to slip away.
She felt the smooth fabric of Willow’s shirt connect with her hand and held on for dear life. Her head was now spinning violently, her breath coming in short gasps as she pulled herself up and off the chair. A splash of something hot jarred her, and she opened her eyes to see a brown pool of coffee spreading across the front of her shirt. The arms that had been holding her up had disappeared from her sides, and Tara felt the sudden sensation of weightlessness before her body landed hard on the smooth, tiled floor.
Crumpled on the ground, Tara slowly rolled to her side, and grimaced in pain as she tried to sit up. Her vision came in and out of focus, but the one thing she saw clearly was Willow’s face, eyes wide and mouth open. The redhead had fallen on the floor next to her, and was backing away, trying to put as much distance between them as she could. Confused, Tara reached out again, only to see a gnarled claw where her hand should be. She stared at the grotesque appendage in horror. Her eyes drifted down, and she saw that her body was covered in scales, hideous, gray scales that rippled as she breathed.
The scene in front of her suddenly snapped into focus, and the rush of sound was deafening. Tara could see people running, chairs being knocked over, Willow still on the floor. Willow . . .
Tara turned to the redhead, and caught her reflection in the window. She started in disbelief at the ghastly face that was looking back at her. Behind her, someone screamed.
Tara thrashed violently in bed before the sound of her own scream ripped her from slumber. She woke, drenched in sweat, hands clawing at her sheets. Panic-stricken, she sat up, gathering the blankets around her.[It’s over. It’s okay. You’re all right. Tara repeated the words in her head, like a mantra, as she willed her body to relax. She took deep, even breaths, and felt her heartbeat slowly return to normal.
The dreams began shortly after she had joined the Wicca group, and had increasingly become more vivid and disturbing. But this one, had been the worst. Her past, it seemed, did not want to be left behind.
You can leave your family behind, but you’ll never escape your heritage. Her father’s words were still as cold as the day he uttered them. You’ll be back Tara. Once the demon emerges you’ll realize that we’re the only ones you’ve got.
Willow found a table in the Espresso Pump, well aware that she was thirty minutes early, but she knew that the lunch hour traffic would soon consume every last chair and table. She settled into her seat, stifling a yawn as she stretched out her tender back. That’s what you get when you try to stop a detoxing soldier boy. Her encounter with Riley last night had jarred her nerves, not to mention her tailbone. She had never seen him that angry before, and hoped that Buffy would find some way to help him. The whole situation with the Initiative had her head spinning, and she hoped that meeting with Tara would make it stop, if only for a moment. But since she’s not here yet, Willow thought, imolecular biochemistry will have to do. She reached into her bag and pulled out a large heavy book and cracked it open.
Tara eyed the clock on her nightstand. 11:16. She sat on her bed, unmoving. Her brain had been completely useless during her first two classes, so she decided to skip the last one, and went straight to her dorm. Willow will never let me hear the end of it if she finds out I played hooky, Tara thought to herself. Willow. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she reached for a pillow and clutched it in front of her, burying her face in its soft fabric. Several moments passed, and when she finally decided to resurface, she reached for the telephone. Halfway through dialing, Tara stopped to reconsider, before reluctantly placing the receiver back in its cradle and resuming her position on the bed.
Willow looked up from her book and glanced at her watch again. 11:57. Any minute now. The scattered conversations in the already crowded coffee shop were making it impossible to read, so Willow closed the book and put it back in her bag. She checked her reflection in the window, running a hand through her hair and smoothing the front of her shirt. Satisfied that she was presentable, Willow discretely made use of her small can of Binaca, then sat with her hands folded on the table, eagerly awaiting the arrival of Tara.
Tara hung up the phone and once again sat motionless on her bed. She took a deep breath and shook her head, mentally chastising herself. Rolling out of bed, she reached for her coat and bag, retrieved her keys from her desk, and took one last look at her clock before leaving her dorm. 11:49.
Willow drummed her fingers on the table as she stared out the window. The coffee shop was now packed, with a line caffeine starved students snaking out the door and down the street. Willow quickly scanned the people walking by, and finally settled her eyes on a familiar blonde.
“Buffy?” Willow watched the petite woman make her way into the coffee shop.
“Hey Will!”
“Hi Buffy,” she replied, her eyes still darting around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tara.
“Waiting for Tara?” her companion asked as she pulled up a chair.
Willow gave her a startled look. “Uh, yeah . . . how did you . . .”
“I stopped by our dorm to pick up some clean clothes and stuff, and there was a message for you on the machine. She said that she was really sorry, and that she wouldn’t be able to make it today.”
“Oh,” Willow replied, her surprise slowly turning into disappointment. She once again looked at Buffy, and for the first time noticed the dark circles under her eyes and her fatigued demeanor. “I take it things didn’t go well at the Initiative?” she asked with concern.
“To say it went bad is an understatement,” Buffy replied. She recounted the previous night’s events, and although Willow knew that the information was important, Tara was still very present in her mind. I hope everything’s okay, she thought, before finally focusing all her attention on Buffy.
_________________ FooKisses and Gay Love"I like my buttons, curvy." - Willow, Neverland, by Easiersaid
Last edited by Foomatic on Tue May 27, 2008 12:06 am, edited 2 times in total.
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