• Title of the story: Awakening
• Author: sova
• Feedback: Totally welcomed and needed.
• Rating: R, gonna be NC-17 eventually
• Pairing: W/T
• Disclaimer: Characters from Buffyverse are the property of Josh Whedon and Mutant Enemy, I'm just borrowing them and I'm not making any money from them.
• Summary: Willow is a Slovak exchange student arriving to England to spend there one year attending English high school. (She is a junior, 18. Tara's lil' older.)

Welcome to Awakening thread.
English isn't my native language and I have no idea if Americans even attend to exchange programmes; that's why this Willow was born where I was born too; in Slovakia. This is also my first fic ever - I've always been writing stuff, but never shared it and usually it just ended up in trash. So many many thanks to my beta ExtraFlamey who made sure my grammar won't jab you in the eye.

UPDATE 7/6/2012 - The story is currently being rewritten. Expect a new, different, darker & epic journey, where feelings are strong, love hurts and faith overcomes destiny. The story would be posted in this thread, eventually. Until then, may your swords (typewriters, notebooks, whatever) stay sharp!




What's your idea of terribly sweet torment? When she ties you up and teases you to the point when all you can think about is her wonderful hand filling your core and her husky voice whispering words of love in your ear?

And you know that's not gonna happen, until she feels like it.

She loves it when you whimper from the frustration of denied release that you need so badly. She loves looking at your tensed limbs, your body arching upwards to meet hers hovering upon you, her hair tickling you on your chest, her thigh shoved between your legs, evil grin on her face contrasting so strongly with the gleam of unconditional love and devotion in her eyes.

You know you'd melt from her gaze, that you wouldn't stand it, that it would break you into pieces. She knows it too, that's why you are blindfolded, but even then you can feel her penetrating gaze roaming upon your body.

Sometimes it's just too much. You're not sure you can handle such happiness and fullfilment as you shake beneath her weight gently pressing into you. Sometimes you're afraid it's all just a dream.

She feels it too. She feels your fears, and she feels your need. She always knows what to do. She trails her hands down your hips, while disengaging herself from between your legs and moving her body down, her hands sneaking under your inner thighs to straddle your legs and grasp your back.

"Sweetie, I'm right here," she mutters as her warm breath on your abdomen is raising goosebumps all over your body. She steals one final glance on your chest heavily rising and falling, moves her head down puffing air on your soft curls and you raise your hips in anticipation.

A loud moan escapes your lips.



Willow woke up from her dream with a gasp, rapidly opening her eyes, trying to recognize her surroundings. She found herself sitting in a leather chair, her head resting on the cold surface of plastic window. Duh? She was slightly disoriented and it took a while until it hit her.

Plane. You're sitting in a plane. Oh, a plane!

Realisation and shock spread across her features, as she hastily shrank down in her seat. She nervously glanced at the other people around her and as she caught a gaze of the fat man sitting next to her, her fears were confirmed. Oh no.

She had always mumbled and talked in her sleep, in fact it ran in the family. Her father always joked that their apartment was turned into some kind of political debate every night. Given the kind of dream she was having just a few minutes ago, from the shocked looks and silent chuckles of the people around her she must have been moaning out loud, or even worse, talking. Rosenberg, you perve. You were having an erotic... oh so erotic dream in a crowded plane. Congratulations for making it clear to everyone around. She felt a blush sneak onto her cheeks.
At least I gave a pretty good show, I suppose.

She again tried to relax into her seat, stretching her legs stiffened from traveling. It actually wasn't such a long flight, from Prague to London it only took just over 2 hours, but she was already feeling restless and her stomach was getting all fluttery. She was really looking forward to her exchange in London, yet at the same time she was anxious.

What about her host family? What if they turn out to be all antisemitic, homicidal bastards of some kind? Or what if they were so nice, that she wouldn't want to leave? Jeez, what if I got a crush on some girl in the school? She was slightly panicking right now. No. That can NOT happen, she vowed silently to herself.

She wasn't coming all the way to England just to crush on some cute all-Englishy girl and be terribly distracted by such a thing. She had earned this opportunity with her hard work. This was her chance. As much as she was one hell of a romantic soul inside, literally dreaming of true and everlasting love and maybe even hoping that she'll find her soulmate in England, she couldn't let herself think about it.Hush. What time is it? 5:28 PM. Great. Just 7 hours and you can ponder about such stupid things until you bore yourself to sleep.

She glanced at the window next to her. Clouds. So there's another mystery solved. Nothing changed.She grew a little bitter and sarcastic, feelings her dream had elicited were currently triggering long lost hurt and loss.

A 13 year old Willow was standing on the stairs, watching as her two classmates were greeting their Biology teacher and trying to help with books.

"Oh, what a honor, a triumvirate to bless me with their help, how did I deserve it?" she said with mocked awe, smiling and winking at Willow.

Robert, as always, putting his foot in his mouth, cheerily replied, "Umm, you know, I kinda got scheduled to help, Laura is here just from habit and Willow wanted to see you."

Upon hearing these words Willow stiffened and felt her face turning red. It was so true, but how come Robert knew it?

As the group turned to walk to class, the blonde teacher suddenly appeared at Willow's side. She was still busy examining her feet, and was a bit startled when she felt a strange hand sneaking on her shoulders. She lifted her gaze to meet pools of blue shining with tender love and care. Willow smiled shyly and again dropped her gaze in embarassment, trying to concentrate on where she was putting her feet, enjoying the sensation of contact with a woman she loved more than her own mother.

When Willow felt her head being slightly pulled to the side and a second later, her teacher's soft lips pressing into her hair, the slender redhead smiled even more broadly. She felt a joyful thrill in her chest rising from her very soul and for the first time in her life, she felt like she belonged somewhere.

She was home.

"Please fasten your seatbelts, we'll be landing at London Heathrow in approximately 15 minutes. All passengers are kindly requested to turn-off all electronic devices. Thank you for flying ČSA."

The announcer's voice returned Willow to reality from one of her most precious memories. She loved that woman, yet she hadn't realised it during her life.

Her death was sudden and painful. Willow had cried for weeks, refused to go to school, refused even to eat. When her parents finally forced her to go to school, it got even worse. Every biology class with the new teacher was like a twist of the knife. Willow didn't tell anyone. She locked down her feelings and stubbornly fought to move on and not to give in to the pain. Robert, with his unbelievable ability to read her mind, knew something was going on with the redhead, but he never tried to raise the topic.

Eight months and six days after the teacher's death, he came out as gay to Willow. She laughed for a while, thinking it was a joke, but Robert's serious expression told otherwise. Her understanding of her best friend rapidly changed from that moment, she smirked as she remembered how she was convinced that one day he will marry her. It was difficult, getting used to him as gay, as if he was someone else entirely now. In addition, his confession had sown a seed of doubt in her mind about her own sexuality.

Several months later, at the anniversary of Her death, it clicked. Willow was in love with Her.

It was all so long ago and she had been so young. Like those weren't even her memories, as if she was just a cold, untouched observer of someone else's life.

As she felt the landing plane bump on the runway, she smiled. This was her new life, her new chance, no matter what had happened in the past. She was free.

She was home.


London Heathrow Airport was crowded with people, hurrying to check-ins, retrieving baggage and saying goodbyes to their families. Willow felt utterly lost. The main hall of the Airport seemed to devour her the very moment she put her foot inside. After retrieving her baggage and passing through Customs, the solid, modernistic and glassy ceiling of the huge building seemed to hover above her. She darted her gaze upwards, marveling at the magnitude of the whole Airport complex. Uff. Kinda bigger than Kosice Airport. And bigger than Ruzyně, where she was transfering onto plane to London. A lot.

It didn't turn out to be the wisest thing to do, as she realised a moment later when she bumped into a tall stranger. "Ummm, sorry!" she blurted out, feeling the tips of her ears reddening. Oh Goddess, you are such a klutz, Rosenberg.

Okay, arrivals: this way to the exit. Can you do this without bumping into another poor person? she mentally challenged herself while she was hurrying to the exits.

Had she been placed into another host-family, the exchange programme coordinator would be picking her up and driving her to her temporary 'home', but her future host-mother had insisted that she'd pick her up so they could get to know each other a bit. She had said she would be waiting for her near Parking Area number 27, which was where Willow was heading right now.

As she left the terminal, the wet London air hit her lungs, as an evening fog slowly settled onto the parking lot. Suddenly she felt a tentative hand placed on her shoulder. Startled, she jumped and shrieked at the sudden contact, turning around to look into amused blue eyes. "Umm. Sorry! I... I kinda tend to be all this nervous girl, but um.. Sorry." Willow babbled out at the blonde woman. Perfect Rosenberg. Perfect. Just perfect.

"I didn't mean to scare you.. But you sort of fit the description of my Slovak exchange student arriving here."

"Oh, that would be me! Willow Rosenberg, nice to meet you! So you must be.."

"Mrs. Maclay, right. Nice to meet you too, Willow. But please call me Elizabeth, it makes me sound less old. Ok?" Willow nodded enthusiastically. "Come on, my car is this way." Mrs. Maclay pointed, smiling.

_________________
Awakening

Dibs
Hey sweet I got my first dibs. Well Sova for someone who's first language isn't english, you write beautifully. I love the whole concept of Willow being an exchange student and living in Tara's house and there love sparking from there. I hope to continue reading more from you since I am hooked on this idea. I really like it and you should write more. I want to read lovely snuggles from our favorite couple and see where Willow will go from here. Hope to read more soon.

Logan

Like Logan said, this is written beautifully. I never would have guessed that you are still learning English. Are you from the Czech Republic? I love discovering how Willow and Tara, and Buffy in general, has been able to connect people from around the world.

The only thing that bugged me a bit was the teacher lifting 13-year-old Willow's head to give her a kiss. In the U.S. a teacher could be fired, or at least have a complaint filed against her, for that, even if it was just on the head. Since you mentioned that in this story, she's in the Czech Republic, I'm assuming it's just a cultural difference and am able to look past it since Willow didn't even understand what she was feeling then anyway.

I loved Willow's dream on the plane. I also laughed at her realizing the other passengers knew. Can't wait for Willow to meet Tara.

Keep up the great work. Hope to read more soon.

Wow, congrats on your first fic. You are very brave for putting yourself out there. I'm no writer. But, for what it's worth, this is an outstanding start. The falling in love stories are my favs. Having Tara's Mom alive and kicking is also a big plus. In the series, Tara's whole life, minus Willow's love, was just one big ass whipping and that always bothered me. So, I tend to gravitate towards the fics that give her some happiness during her early years.

Keep up the good work and I look forward to the girls first meeting.

OMG! I love this story line and where it seems to be heading.

Pretty please continue soon!

Thanks for leaving me feedback guys.

Logan: Glad to give you an oppurtunity to get first dibs. Thank you for your encouragement.. Hope I won't disappoint you.

Grimm: Yeah, totally with ya in this. You know what bothered me? Tara's music taste and lack of.. well any music taste of any character. I'm totally sure Tara is a metal gal. And her mother.. she's cool. Really.

Fhiwda: Thanks! Working on a second chapter for you. For you all.

Really guys, thank you. I needed some encouragement to continue, since I tend to have that 'moments' like "I'm not good at English, I should stop... It's not gonna be worth it and I couldn't do at my best.." and "The plot is awkward" and so on. I can't express how much I appreciate your comments. Hope I would be able to finish second chapter in a week.

S.

Hi Sova

Just wanted to say I'm loving this story so far and can't wait for your next update

~Leo

This is my first dialogue in English. Big big big thanks to my beta ExtraFlamey and I really hope he will not have recurring nightmares about Slovak word order! I think I'm slowly getting used to writing in EN. Thanks for your encouragement. I hope I will only get better..... eventually.

Chapter Two:
Forever Lost

The sun was slowly retreating below the horizon, letting the cloak of the night rule the sky as the last remaining signs of daylight slowly surrendered to darkness.

Willow was sitting in the backseat of the car, fidgeting nervously. Her fears were written on her face, she was sure of it. Mrs. Maclay seemed nice and she was truly trying her best to make Willow like her, but what about the rest of the family?

Meeting new people? Eew.. remember, first impressions are important. Breathe. Just breathe.

She rested her palms on her knees and inhaled deeply while closing her eyes. She'd been staring at the new landscape through the windows and as the ride grew longer, she was getting more and more bored.

Mrs. Maclay was trying to entertain her with a little city tour, talking about London sight-seeing, legends and pouring one interesting fact after another. Willow already knew all this stuff, but she remained polite and listened, shooting a 'wow' look when she thought she should wear the 'wow' expression. It was a long ride, too long, so when the car finally pulled into the driveway of a small house, Willow nearly jumped out of the still moving car, only politeness keeping her from doing it.

"Welcome home, Will." Mrs. Maclay smiled at Willow from her seat. Her host-mother was just so nice and she already started using her nickname.

Just don't ruin this.

She grabbed her bag from the seat, opened the car door, got out and then cautiously closed the door.

As she and Mrs. Maclay entered the hall, her host mother called into an seemingly empty house. "Sweetie, we're home!"

She then turned to Willow and told her where she could put her shoes. "Bathroom is on the left, ok?" she said, then frowned. "Oh, you must be hungry! I'm gonna cook you something, look at you, you're so thin, you should eat something."

"Oh, Mrs. Ma... Elizabeth, it really isn't necessary." Willow replied shyly.

"You bet it is. I'm not going to let you starve to death, what would I tell your parents?" Mrs. Maclay winked at her. "How about you unpacking while I prepare you supper?" She didn't give Willow a chance to respond as she quickly disappeared into the kitchen. As Willow watched her go, she sensed another pair of eyes on her.

A blonde girl was standing frozen on the stairs, intently watching Willow. When Willow returned her gaze, the girl dropped her head, covering her face with long strands of hair, as if she suddenly found her feet really interesting.

When Willow recovered, she greeted the girl nervously, suddenly realising she was going to spend most of the time with her for a whole year. "Hi.. I'm, um, Willow." she managed to get out, lifting her hand in a shy wave.

Good start, just be nice.

She let her eyes roam over the girls dropped face, her high cheekbones, her eyebrows, her nose, the way her ears were peeking through her fine, straight hair. She was beautiful and Willow wondered what made her seem so insecure.

What's her story?

The blonde lifted her eyes and a steely gaze flashed into Willow's for a moment, then looked down again. At the moment their eyes met, the redhead was dumbstruck. She hadn't ever seen such beautiful and pure eyes, yet they were bruised with something she couldn't describe yet. It was deep and arcane.

"Hey.. Tara." The blonde girl took a breath and nervously went on, "Guess I should.. show you the room?" She pointed upstairs.

"Yeah.. thanks, Tara." Willow replied, enjoying the sensation of the blonde's name on her tongue.

Tara flashed back a shy smile and turned to walk up the stairs.

As she disappeared, Willow just stared at the empty stairs in disbelief, suddenly feeling alone without this girl she had just met.

Oh Goddess, her smile. And her face! And her eyes...Oh, this is gonna be hard. Just remember she's technically your sister. Yeah, sister.

She couldn't fall for her 'sister'. Besides, she knew what a temporary crush could be like. She grabbed her bag and ran up the stairs to catch up. When she reached Tara's side, she saw the girl stealing a glance at her.

"Well, now we are gonna be like.. sisters?" Willow said, shyly, trying to make the blonde more comfortable around her, and trying to convince herself that her attraction towards the girl was inappropriate.

"Yeah.." Tara smiled and met her eyes for a moment. "So, this is our room." she nodded in front of her.

Willow hoped she could find out something about Tara from the way her room looked. It was just.. cool. It was small, homely and dimly lit - only one small light on the neat desk illuminated it, letting the shadows play theater performances of their own on the wall, oblivious to the happenings in the room.

Willow was wondering what Tara had gone through in this room, remembering her own at home. They were different, yet had much in common. Both rooms were shelters, sanctuaries even.

Willows room at home was always tidy, no dust, no mess, her clothes in perfect order. She even kept a list of the things she possessed. She knew she tried to keep her room in order, so she could pretend her mind was okay, that her mind looked like her room. Perfect, tidy, organised, even when her head was one big mess. But it did work in some way, when she was in her room, it was quieter and she could focus. She remembered what things her room had witnessed. What about Tara's?

In Tara's room there were fairy lights on the walls, paintings, candles, lots of music CDs, one really huge bookshelf... At the moment Willow laid her eyes on the shelf, her inspection of Taras room stopped.

Books!

Her comparison of her and Tara's room was abandoned, as she was utterly devoured by the presence of so many books. She dropped her bag on the ground and looked at Tara in amazement, alternating between staring at her and at the bookshelf.

"Wow, Tara, I mean, books! Lotsa' books! Can I, you know, see them? Or-Or even read them? Please Tara, can I?" she made her best puppy eyes, eliciting a chuckle from Tara.

"Of course you can." Tara said, apparently amused by the sudden change of demeanor of the redhead.

"Oh, thank you Tara!"

Willow loved books of every kind, she loved their smell, the feeling of pages passing through her fingers, and most of all, she loved their content. Into every book its author poured his heart whether he wanted to or not. Into every sentence, every story, each character and every dialogue.

Books were the reflection of their authors, but grammatically corrected and checked many times before published. That was probably why she liked spending time with words a lot more than with other people.

Willow studied the bookshelf and was surprised to find a copy of Baudelaire's Flowers of Evil along with Shakespeare's Sonnets, a small book of Byron's poems and a whole collection of other poetry books.

"You' read poetry? You're reading Baudelaire? I LOVE him. He was crazy, yeah, but well, a bloody genius!" Willow squealed in excitement.

"Hey, it's your first day in England, and you've already learned 'bloody'?" Tara replied with a smile, leaning on the doorframe. Willow was relieved that she'd finally elicited a more complex response from the blonde girl, who seemed to be more relaxed now.

Was she afraid? Was she afraid I'm not gonna like her room or books or that I turn out to be... a dork or what? Oh, you are a dork. You're babbling in your head.

She wished it were just her way of speaking that would make her out to be a dork.

She interrupted her inner monologue when she heard Tara continue. "And yes, I like Baudelaire. His poetry kind of has a deeper meaning than all the morbidity and sarcasm.. you know?" she said with a faint hint of amusement in her eyes.

"Oh I'm totally with you in this... But I like the sarcastic part too." Willow cheerily replied. Ok, she's not just gorgeous, she likes Baudelaire, too. And she's like your sister. It's good you share the same interests.

Tara pointed at the closet. "I've cleared some shelves for you. A-and you're gonna sleep in the pull-out bed next to mine."

"OK." Willow gulped.

I get to sleep only a few inches from her. Oh. Exactly like sisters.

Needing to distract herself, Willow pulled out Flowers of Evil and opened it randomly. "I love you as I love..." was the title of the poem.

I love you as I love the night's high vault
O silent one, O sorrow's lachrymal,
And love you more because you flee from me,
And temptress of my nights, ironically
You seem to hoard the space, to take to you
What separates my arms from heaven's blue.

I climb to the assault, attack the source,
A choir of wormlets pressing towards a corpse,
And cherish your unbending cruelty,
This iciness so beautiful to me.


He was truly insane, Willow thought to herself with an inner smirk as she flipped the page. And the Slovak translations of originally French poems were much better than English ones.

After reading a few poems she returned the book on its place. Tara hadn't moved herself from the doorframe, and was still resting her head on it, looking at Willow with a cryptic expression on her face.

As Willow looked into her eyes, Tara, for the first time, didn't dart her gaze away. For a second Willow got to stare into the pools of blue, shining with some ancient strength, knowledge and.. grief?

What is she thinking about? She is so beautiful with that little frown... Oh shut up. What if you did something wrong? With books?

Willow certainly didn't want to upset the girl. She needed acceptance and the idea of destroying it from the very beginning terrified her.

"Tara? I didn't do anything wrong, did I?" she asked in a small voice.

Tara was torn away from her thoughts immediately. Upon hearing the insecure voice of the redhead, her faraway look instantly changed into one of care. "No! Why did you think that?" she asked slightly puzzled.

"I don't know.. It was, you know? The Look." Willow pointed at her face as a demonstration. "And I kinda got that feeling that I, dunno, messed up your books, or you don't like me being here, and that would be like, horrible, because, you and me, spending nights in this room in a sisters kinda way, not in a... why are you smiling at me like this?" Willow finally took a breath. She felt somehow relieved that she got rid of the tension that slowly built in her insides from the time she entered the plane.

"Wow." Tara said simply, her crooked grin widening."Is the babble an exchange students' thing?"

"No.. it's a Willow-thing. When I get nervous, that sort of filter I have in my mind, that prevents me from thinking out loud... disappears. And it's a good release of tension." Willow explained, trying to make her vocal outburst sound like a somehow sophisticated method of dealing with nervousness, but as soon as she heard herself speak, she figured she probably failed miserably.

Great, now she must think you're crazy or what. Oh yes, good point, you are.

She started to fidget with her fingers, watching them as she was suddenly unable to look directly at the girl in front of her.

"You don't have to be nervous around me or my mom." Tara paused. "I-I'm a bit nervous too. I mean, you're new.. and all of a sudden I have a stranger in my room..."

"I understand." Willow interrupted, not lifting her eyes from the floor.

Of course she doesn't want you here... Who would?

She was expecting that, she wouldn't like anybody invading her personal space either.

"It's not that I want you gone.. It's just.." Tara thought for a second then her face lit up. "Face it. You DO like books. What could possibly go wrong with us?" she said with feigned seriousness.

"We can pretend your room is a library!" Willow beamed, Tara's joke washing away all her insecurities like a charm. One moment she thought she would rather have the floor devour her whole, and the next she was oblivious to her doubts.

"Absolutely." the blonde nodded.

She's amazing.

DIbs

Great update.

Your descriptions are amazing. Grammar and punctuation can be taught and corrected (at least they have set rules even if there are a lot) but it's the original imagination and details of a story that always makes me jealous. I can write a perfectly punctuated research paper, but ask me to write a story with as much detail as possible and I'm hopeless.

I loved how Willow had to keep reminding herself not to feel attracted to Tara. The fact that they are supposed to be living together as "sisters" is pretty funny. I wonder how long it lasts

I LOVE books. I'm partial to sci-fi/fantasy (especially fan fiction obviously) but I can appreciate the joy when you find someone who likes something as much as you do.

at them sleeping so close. I wonder if Willow will have another dream

Can't wait for more.

Welcome to the KB. Just got caught up on your story. It's amazing to me that you can even write in another language, forget about tell a really interesting and sweet story. I wonder what all the comments are about the look of grief in Tara's eyes are and I noticed she mentioned her mother, but not her father or brother, so I'm really interested in what direction you are going to take with this story. Keep up the good work. I'm really looking forward to more.

Willow said she and Tara are gonna be like 'sisters' ? Good luck with that, Willster...

I look forward to discovering the girls backstories.

I find this fic fascinating! It really is beautifully written. I would really love to see where it leads.

Please continue!!!!

@BuffyFan4ever Thank you very much! Well, actually, I wasn't perve enough to think about Willow having another dream but, thanks for an idea! I'm really considering it. I love books too. Fantasy. Aaaah. Eragon. Ah.

@True_Love Thank you. Actually if I try to make a career as a writer, I will have no chance in Slovak language. Just face it, we are a small country and if some of our authors were from U.K/U.S or just published their books there, they would be like... well, they would be rich enough to be able to delve into their work and thoughts completely. But here? They couldn't even consider writing their only job, because it simply doesn't produce enough money. My dream is to be able to work with inspiration, in nature, writing... anytime I like. I want to leave something for the world, I want to help people with my words, I want to give them something to spend time with, cry with, laugh with, grow up with. I have plenty of time to master writing in English and I'm using this fic as one of ways to do so.

@Grimm Willow's just lying to herself, we all know that, because she is too busy avoiding possible pain and rejection.

@sarahncrys1017 Thank you, very much, you have no idea what that 'really beautifully written' part means to me.


Anyway, chapter 3 titled 'Fragile' is finnished. (gonna let you ponder... about the title) Just hafta send it to ExtraFlamey for correction but I hope it will be up soon. Have a nice day!

Hi Sova and welcome to the board. I'm enjoying your story. I'm wondering why Willow is so self-depricating. Is she just shy and geeky or is something truly wrong? I like that once she got into the books she and Tara could speak together. I'm waiting for "Fragile."

@JustSkipIt Thank you, yep, you're near it, but well - you'll find out, eventually. Fragile on its way!

This chapter meant another deadly blow with Slovak word order to my really self-sacrificing beta ExtraFlamey, who wrestled this chapter to submission. I just so hope that.. ending part.. (not gonna spoil you) would seem real to you. I saw it emotional and humanly in my mind but I don't know if I've written it powerfully enough. The song mentioned is The Misery by Sonata Arctica. It's really beautiful.




"Girls, supper is ready!" Mrs. Maclay exclaimed from the kitchen.

Willow didn't want to leave Tara's room or the books yet, but the rumbling in her stomach told her it was a good idea to eat something. She hadn't eat anything all day and now her body was demanding fuel to replace the energy it had used during this exhausting time. She placed a hand over her tummy, which suddenly felt empty and tight.

"I'm starving." she sighed.

Tara smiled. "Come on," she said, turning and motioning towards the stairs.

When both girls got down and washed their hands, (accidentally touching under the stream of water and blushing after unintended contact), they went into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Mrs. Maclay had prepared a Greek salad with fried chicken breasts.

Willow thanked the woman, then attacked her portion with hardly controlled vigor, as she was trying not to make a fool of herself, but failing miserably.

"Yeah, Willow, kill the salad. Kill the bad bad salad. No, really. You should see me eating when I'm hungry. You are like a French lady in comparison to me." Mrs. Maclay joked between mouthfuls of food.

Willow was surprised, she thought that English people would glare at her barbarism and she definitely wasn't prepared for her English hostess to talk with a full mouth. Tara remained silent, observing the situation and Willow caught her watching her sometimes, but as soon as she looked at her, Tara dropped her gaze into her salad. She seemed so different now, no more smiling and joking.
Willow wondered what caused such a change, the girl seemed a lot more confident back in her room.

As Tara's mother was still talking, Willow swallowed and was unable to resist. "Mrs... Elizabeth, are you even English?" she asked, giggling.

"Oh come on, I'm talking with my mouth full for the first time in a long time! Tara's always quiet when she eats and her father wouldn't let....." Mrs. Maclay stopped abruptly, darting her gaze towards Tara.

Willow felt the atmosphere rapidly changing from relaxation into one as tensed as a guitar string. She saw Tara's hand stiffen and grip the fork in her salad forcefully, her knuckles turning white as she took a deep breath. Hidden pain in her eyes suddenly became even more visible but there was something else in them as she stared intently into her bowl. Was it anger? Disappointment? Willow couldn't tell, she could only assume that Tara's scars on her soul had something to do with her father. Given both the women's reactions she knew this was a very uncomfortable situation.

She didn't want to intrude in this moment and elicit an awkward silence, so she set her fork down and excused herself from the table. She wanted to comfort Tara, her heart aching from the girl's reaction she'd witnessed just a few moments ago. As she was walking towards the bathroom, she decided that this was the last time that look would appear on Tara's face. She seemed just so fragile and the redhead certainly didn't want to see her break. There was something special in her, she wasn't like other people and Willow already found herself caring about her. What's her story?

As she returned to the kitchen, Tara looked a lot more composed, but as soon as she spotted Willow, she dropped her fork into the salad.

"I-I think I've had enough. Thanks mom." she said, not looking at Willow as she took the bowl on the counter and left the kitchen.

Willow felt a wave of sadness and she desperately wanted to reach for her, convince the girl that she could trust her and ease her obvious pain, even if it meant transferring some of it on herself. She wanted to chase after with the girl and try to comfort her but, she knew that Tara was locked deep in herself and she wasn't willing to let Willow in yet.

She's afraid of me. She has every right to be. I'm an intruder, she doesn't trust me. How do I show her that she can?

She dropped her gaze into her salad as she suddenly lost her previous appetite.

She stared absently at the piece of chicken in her bowl, at the dead tissue that once had been a living being. She had refused to eat meat for 3 years, because she was disgusted with the thought of unnecessary killing of animals but, when she found herself on a hospital bed with a broken arm and a huge blood loss, she had been forced by parents and doctors to start eating meat again. Willow was stubborn, she truly was, but after that car crash, she really hadn't found the strength to fight for her ideals. Besides, her mother had nearly died and Willow felt guilty for escaping with just an open fracture of her arm and head trauma, when her mother had broken both of her legs and had heavily bruised lungs and vertebrae. When the ambulance came and Willow was put on an IV, the first thing she had asked was odd. "How's mom? Is she communicating?"

She smiled bitterly as she remembered. Her relationship with her mother had always been cold, yet she thought of her mother first, not herself. And the way she asked the question... she smirked to herself. High IQ and stuff, huh?

"Willooow?" she heard the distant voice of Mrs. Maclay, returning her to reality. Willow shook her head and looked up at Mrs. Maclay.

"So... Tara and you are getting along well?" she asked winking. Willow sensed something was going on. Mrs. Maclay wasn't relaxed and natural as on the airport and her smile was a bit forced.

"She's really cool.. she even reads poetry." Willow replied, smiling weakly at the memory.

Mrs. Maclay sighed "You know, I really hope you two will become friends. She needs a friend... and you're a really remarkable girl, Willow." she smiled, genuinely now. "I believe you will be able to bring her out of her shell."

"I hope so, Mrs. Maclay." Willow sensed that she could trust this woman. She was so honest and full of concern about her daughter. "I need a friend too." Willow admitted quietly, dropping her head in a similar manner to the way Tara had on the stairs not so much as a hour ago.

"Everybody does, Will." the woman sighed, looking at her hands. Willow stifled a yawn as the sudden weight of the day came rushing towards her. She had no idea what time it was, but she felt like she had been awake for uncounted hours and the time she'd woke up this morning seemed just so far away now.

Mrs. Maclay noticed Willow's sign of fatigue. "Will, you must be tired from the traveling. Do you wanna go to bed?" she asked smiling.

Willow nodded, but her expression dropped. "But-but I have to help with the dishes! I can't be just.. fed by you and then.. No, no way!" she exclaimed, horrified.

"You don't have to, sweetie." Mrs. Maclay saw Willow's shocked expression growing and continued before the redhead could argue. "What about... you make the breakfast tomorrow?" she asked her.

Fantasies of bringing breakfast in bed for Tara started appearing in Willow's personal mind-theater. Don't think about a pink elephant! An image of Tara was replaced by one of a huge pink elephant with big ears, smiling sarcastically as if it was realising the irony of that statement.

"Okay, Mrs. Maclay. Thanks for the salad.." Willow started, but stopped as she noticed a quirked eyebrow of Tara's mother. "Uuum, good night.. Elizabeth." Willow managed to get out, being rewarded by a sincere smile.

"Night Will."

As Willow headed toward Tara's room again, there was something odd, some odd.. energy flowing around the corner. It crept into her very soul and she felt.. pain. There was a soft, gentle music quietly issuing from Tara's doorway, and Willow recognized the song. It was one of her favourites and she had fallen in love with it the first time she'd heard it.

You cast a perfect shadow on the paper,
Fade away with sunlight.
I fear the way you know me,
Love can leave a stain,

the man's soft voice was echoing from the room. She tip-toed to the doorframe of Tara's room and saw the blonde laying on her bed in her night-gown looking at the ceiling apparently lost deep in her thoughts.

Willow felt rude for staring but, she couldn't help it. Tara looked so small, so fragile, so lost and Willow wondered how she possibly could reach out to the blonde girl. She wished she could lie next to her, touch her, comfort her, weep with her.

We both have pasts.

Gentle music was building up the intensity of the moment and Willow felt her heart swell.

If you fall I’ll catch,
If you love I’ll love.
And so it goes, my dear,
Don’t be scared,
You’ll be safe,
This I swear.
If you only love me.

Tara brought her hand to her face and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Willow watched the display of the grief she felt herself and her throat clenched. It was overwhelming, seeing the blonde girl hurting.

Something as beautiful and unnatural as Tara in pain was utterly wrong and against all Willow believed in. If someone as Tara could be in pain....

The music was becoming more intensive and heartwrenching.

"Tara..." she whispered hoarsely, desperately needing to be there for the other girl, not wanting to see any more tears falling from her eyes.

Tara jumped and sat up at the edge of the bed, shocked, and looked at Willow timidly, tears still glistening in her reddened eyes. Willow quickly crossed the room and knelt in front of her. She felt her cheeks were warm and wet, and realised she had been crying too.

"Tara..." she repeated, locking her gaze with the shocked girl.

"W-W-Willow? Why.." Tara started.

"Tara.. damn it Tara, I don't know what happened but I can feel it!" Willow interrupted with a sob, resting her hands on the edge of Tara's bed, near her thighs. "It's just... powerful.." she whispered, her lip quivering as she stared into Tara's gorgeous eyes.

The girl seemed so fragile as another tear slipped down her face. Her eyes reminded Willow of all she faced in her life and their pain melded into one.

"Tara.. please don't cry.." she pleaded. She knew that she couldn't stand it - Willow hadn't cried for months, she had ignored all of the pain building up inside her. She had thought that maybe her exchange visit to England would allow her to push it all behind her. Although when she entered the plane she had felt relieved and free, now it was back and she couldn't help but let it all go. She couldn't help it, she was too emotionally exhausted.

As she looked into Tara's eyes and saw utter grief along with apparent concern, she dropped her head on Tara's lap, bringing her hand around the girl and wept, the tears soaking into Tara's night-shirt. She felt it all again, memories of buried pain, bittersweet smiles and empty rooms, emptiness of a soul longing to feel.

But she felt something new too, a love buyed with hurt, devotion built by denial and ache for control, regret for what could have been.

She felt Tara's strong arms wrapping around her as her body slid down to her and the blonde's face buried into her shoulder as they both sobbed, hugging tightly in spite of being strangers.

Their walls, insecurities, doubts and mistrust had all gone, melted as their warm tears washed them all away.

Just two bleeding souls releasing the pain, shielding one another from overflowing, relieved in the thought of not being alone to bear it.

The words I write can only hurt you,
Sorry for the rain.
Thank you, my only one,
You gave me this pain.

Pain.

Pain is just too right, too real, awakening.

It forms you, devours you and then in the end, leaves you sobbing in your own darkness, trembling and aching.

But in the end, it lets you be yourself.

Truly yourself.

It lets you feel alive, aware of blood coursing through your veins, your heart pounding in your chest as it fights its endless struggle to keep you alive.

In the end, it lets you to be a better yourself, stronger, braver, more confident, more stubborn and wiser.

Willow had experienced pain. It had been horrible as it settled inside her but she'd subdued it, erased it and transferred it away so she wouldn't have to face it. But now, as she was crying in Tara's arms, she felt its forceful grip on her insides again, and claiming what had been only postponed. It hurt, but Willow embraced it greedily - never had she felt so alive, so real, so safe. She was sheltered between her pain and Tara's warm, trembling body.

The hurricane raging inside her was slowly weakening with each teardrop, leaving devastation healing behind it, leaving a place for a new creation to be planted.

Leaving a place for a new Willow to grow.

In the end, letting her be who she was meant to be.

If you only love me.

Dibs!
Wow what an absolutely beautiful post. You have me completely hooked and I can't wait to see what's next!

~Leo

Awesome Chapter .

First, as a unabashed Carnivore, having yummy fried chicken described as ' dead tissue that once had been a living being' was......disturbing...lmao.

Next, I am already mentally preparing myself to hate Mr. Maclay. Sounds like both girls have suffered some type of abuse at the hands of one of their scumbag parents. Was Shelia's accident fatal and is the Jackass known as Donald Maclay still amoung the living? Can't wait to learn the whole story.

Finally, is there a magical element to your story? Willow kind of comes off as being a empath and Mrs. Maclay clearly has some sort of ' intuition ' about a possible bond between the girls .

I'm really enjoying this story.

Reading this fic is like reading poetry! I absolutely love how you see things and explain it all. Especially pain. You are an amazing writer. Please continue soon.

You describe everything so beautifully. It's almost like I can see everything come to life right before my eyes! You truly are an amazing writer!

Hope to see an update soon.

@leos_pride Thank you. I'm glad you liked it and I hope you'll like the next installments as well.

@Grimm Thanks, uhm, so. Sheila is alive and kicking and so is the Jackass. Um. I mean, Donald Maclay. Nope, no magic. No apparent magic, just that ordinary little magic of everyday life. Willow is just.. emphatetic. You know, I'm sure that in the world there are some sort of.. energies? And we can feel 'em. Some people are less 'gifted' while some are more. Okay, well I don't really think about them as energies, it's more psychological and it has even something to do with physics (as for physics, you'll see how am I 'in love' with it in the next chapter) but you got the point. So, nope again, no magic of magic-in-Buffy kind.

@fhiwda You know, when I've read your comment, I thought I'm gonna have 'writers-orgasm' right on the spot. I can't even express how much that meant to me. THANK YOU VERY MUCH! I have been smiling all the day. And day after.
This isn't easy writing for me since I'm neither native nor long-learner of this language and I'm really really glad that you have such a wonderful opinion of my writing.
And pain. I said it, pain is interesting. I don't especially love it or welcome it, but... it's necessary. Would you be the person you're right now without it? Cuz' I wouldn't. And I certainly wouldn't write like this and think this way about pain, love, and another important things in life.

@sarahncrys1017 Thank you! I'm trying my best.

I'm half-way to finish the next chapter, titled Shining Through. This week was kinda hard and I haven't got a big enough chunk of time to write.. hope I can finish & post it by, maybe, Monday? Well, we'll see, once I finish it, there's still beta-ing to do.

And yeah, as you probably figured, I'm titling chapters with the names of songs of the band God Is An Astronaut. It's awesome music to writing, really, you should try it.

Yes, Americans go as exchange students, two of my high school classmates did. Of course, I got my diploma in 1973.

I'm definitely interested in where this is going.

PS I wouldn't worry about any language mistakes you're making, beyond learning from them, of coruse.. They aren't bad enough to interfere with the story. And compared to what some native speakers post, here and elsewhere, it's not bad.

I promised this chapter would be up by Monday, but my beta ExtraFlamey made extra-flamey effort and finished this today. Thank you!
So enjoy this another chapter in which we discover Willow's love for physics. I dedicate this chapter to poor Robert who has corasthma and feels like a crap. (Hi Robert!) I'm grateful for his support and advices.




Tara was holding her. She was safe. She was free. She was new. She was Willow.

"W-Willow?" A muffled question came from the blonde in her arms.

She took a deep breath. The careless moment of crying was gone and she wondered if she had over-stepped the boundaries. Not only she basically thrown herself onto a total stranger and cried, she also showed her own pain and intruded into Tara’s personal space. That was kind of a violation of the unwritten laws, wasn’t it?

"Yes?" Willow replied. She gently tried to pull herself away from the other girl, but Tara didn't let go of her.

"Stay?" Tara pleaded, her vulnerability obvious in her voice.

"Gladly. Thank you, Tara." Willow smiled dreamily as she hugged her again, tightening her hold reassuringly. She rested her face on Tara’s shoulder, breathing her in, while unconsciously nuzzling her neck. She smelled perfect, just Tara-like, a sweet mixture of maple and honey.

"N-no, I have to thank you.. you know?" Tara pulled away slightly and looked into Willow's eyes. As their gazes locked, Willow saw that Tara was different now too. She could see it despite Tara's reddened eyes - there was a new spark, a new hope shrouding the grief. Something had changed her in much the same way it'd changed Willow. She was renewed as well. And she was Tara.

"Uhm, guess good crying is priceless." Willow replied shyly, dropping her gaze, suddenly feeling embarrassed at the way they were hugging each other. Tara seemed to finally notice that too, and she reluctantly weakened her grip on Willow as she pulled away, but didn't break the contact entirely. When she started to wipe her eyes, Willow looked at her again and wondered at the situation. How did this even happen?

As Tara pulled her hand away from her face and their gazes locked again, she knew Tara was thinking about similar things. It was weird and wonderful at the same time, they'd just met, yet they shared this - simple understanding in silence with no need for words. But another yawn fought its way from Willow's throat and Tara, noticing, glanced at the alarm clock.

"Willow, it's late.. We better go to sleep." she said with a voice so full of care that Willow thought she'd melt from it.

"Uhm." She dropped her head. Tara was amazing. No, Tara was perfect and that bothered her, she felt vulnerable. What if Tara hurt her? She had cried in this girl's arms, she'd cried in front of someone and she felt safe in that moment. Not weak, not embarassed. Strong and accepted. And connected. Tara somehow elicited feelings she had never experienced. In such a short time, too. How is that even possible?

And what if Tara destroyed this unique feeling of safety and approval? Maybe it was only her imagination, but she certainly felt unsure. Does crying, hugging a 'sister' tightly make you feel that way? She'd never had a sister but she'd always wished she could have an older sibling, who would be wise, strong, caring and able to protect her.

But, she realised, everything bad that happened was for a reason. She should learn from it and not hide away from it, trying to forget. Everything had led to this moment, had led to now. Nothing had been an accident. Even Tara was Tara because of her memories, because of her pain and past. Because of her father. In the end, she was who she was meant to be.

"Will?" Tara whispered into the silence, nervously.

"Uhm?" Willow was still lost in her thoughts and again produced only monosyllabic answer. Yeah, come on, show her you’re a moron.

"W-We should get up. You know, pull-out bed?" Tara explained, shyly smiling at her.

"Uhm. OK, I'm gonna get a quick shower." Willow got up from the floor, feeling suddenly cold without the contact of Tara’s warm body and pulled her oversized night-shirt and shampoo,shower-gel and toothbrush from her bag, while Tara found her a big fluffy orange towel.

"Thank you." Willow smiled politely at the girl and started to walk towards the bathroom. When she looked over her shoulder to steal one final glance at Tara, the girl was still looking at her but when their eyes met, she dropped her head and again hid behind her hair. Willow gathered her courage, turned to the girl and walked back to her. When she was standing in front of Tara again, she studied her face for a moment, hesitating. She'd noticed this gesture of the other girl's insecurity from the very moment they'd met and she didn't like the thought of her being the reason Tara felt like that.

She placed her free hand on Tara's chin, and lifted her head gently. Tara surrendered to the pressure but her gaze remained pinned on the floor as she murmured something unintelligible.
"What did you say?" Willow asked carefully. Was this too bold? She dropped her hand hoping that she could somehow excuse it.

"I'm sorry I stared." Tara answered, as she crossed her arms and started to fidget with her sleeves, her eyes never leaving the floor. She said it as if it was a well-learned mechanical response.

"No Tara, I mean... I just don't want you to hide away from me. You don't have to.” Willow started softly, awaiting the girl’s response. Her tensed stance seemed to relax a little and then Willow recognized it. It was fight-or-flee.

God, why am I doing everything wrong? She’s afraid of me!

“Tara, listen. I’m not going to hurt you. I swear.” Willow said a little more forcefully than she intended to, emphasizing each word. “And-and staring is totally OK... " she laughed nervously. "Look at me please, dear temporary sis'?" she continued in a deep, formal voice, hoping that she would get Tara to relax.

Tara tentatively lifted her eyes from the floor, flashing a shy half-smile of relief. Willow smiled back and gave Tara a wink, then quickly turned to go to the bathroom, feeling the tips of her ears reddening.

Wow, since when did I start behaving like this?

She retreated into the bathroom, closing and locking the door, never looking back at Tara. She'd never acted like this and she was really surprised with her own actions. She just hoped it helped Tara relax.

She leaned back at the door, exhaling while closing her eyes and bringing her hands to her face. Her cheeks burned. She gasped and threw her stuff carelessly on the carpet as she moved in front of the mirror. She saw a immature girl with untidy short red hair, cheeks that matched her hair-colour and a face covered with soft freckles. Willow the ugly dykeling. She pouted at her reflection, then stuck her tongue out at it. Oddly enough, the reflection did the same, with a sarcastic gleam in its eyes.

Willow quickly discarded her clothes and hopped into the shower, hot water feeling like magic on her skin. She couldn't help imagining what sharing the shower with Tara would be like... She'd would pin me to the shower-wall and shove her tongue into my mouth insistently and her leg would.... she stopped, suddenly. She wasn't supposed to feel like this. Damn, she wasn't supposed to feel at all. Why Tara? Why was she so different, why was she so perfect, why had she crept into Willow's thoughts? Sister, sister, sister. She is my sister. Sorta.

Willow spotted a honey-suckle shampoo, which she figured belonged to Tara, and squeezed a bit into her hand. She washed her short hair, inhaling Tara's scent and feeling a bit guilty in the process. Rosenberg. You perve.

How should she behave now, to be someone Tara could rely on, could totally trust? How could she be there for Tara in every possible way? How could she bring her out of her shell?

No. I'm not going to be someone else. I'll show her who I am. I'll just be me. Either she'll like me as I really am or not. Clumsy, geeky, babbling Willow, who now finally felt. She wasn't that empty shell anymore. She'd fallen for Tara, even though she wasn't supposed to and she certainly hadn’t planned for it.

She is my sister. Well, not entirely. She's from England - whatever. She's a girl. So am I. Kinda the point. She's straight. But that's not a certainty. I'm not supposed to feel real love. But I do. Oh God, did I just accepted I'm in love with her? Am I?

She knew the answer.

Love is such a terribly right thing to feel. It nestled under her skin and she couldn't help but watch as it ripped her insides out in one swift, nearly unnoticed motion. She lost control, and she was totally oblivious to it. A few days ago it would had driven her crazy.

About love, great and terrifying, poems were written and wars were fought for, over centuries past. It was love that had blinded so many wise people, love brought to life by mankind, certain as gravity and strong as the bonds of atoms in liquids.

Incompressible.

It is a force easily compared to hydraulics. Just a small pressure from a beloved one and your whole world is moving.

Denying love is like denying the law of gravity at the very moment the object is falling. It's made no real impact yet, but it's already inevitable and undeniable. There is no need for an actual proof the law of gravity is working. It just is. And it's the same with love.

Love is such a terribly right thing to feel.

No matter what, love would prevail.

The heart rules the mind.

Willow could try and fight it, but who could fight a force strong and certain as gravity itself?

In the end, love is all that really matters.

From the first time Willow looked into Tara's expressive eyes reflecting her soul, she had known she was lost. Forever. She knew that exact shade of blue icy depths was going to haunt her sweetest dreams. Forever.

She remembered her vow about crushes. It wasn't a crush, it was more, so much more.

What's her story? Who was she that she was able to do this to Willow?

She'd known her for a couple of hours, yet she was certain as hell that she'd fallen in love with her. So quickly. So suddenly.

Was it too sudden?

It was as if she was standing near a blazing fire.

No. Near the icy fire.

Thrown out from her homely, velvety warmth to be tossed into ice, setting her skin on fire in spite of its coldness.

And there was the other thing too. She shouldn't feel like this, she shouldn't feel the all-consuming heat when she was buried in ice. Or was it just her imagination? Was it even ice she delved into? Had she even been warm inside before?

Tara shone deeply into her soul. That was why she felt warm. That was why she felt on fire. That was why she wasn’t cold anymore, for she wasn’t tossed into ice, she herself was the ice and now she'd slowly started to melt – starting to feel again.

Did she trust Tara enough to make it happen? To allow her to break her shields? Should she let her?

But actually, she already had. The moment she felt warm tears in her eyes, that was the moment she let her shields down. Tara's pain had made her do it, but shouldn't she be mad at her? She didn't want this, yet at the same time she was yearning desperately for love and acceptance. But was it worth the pain? And even if it was, could Tara give love to her? To her? And even if she could, should she accept it?

Do I even deserve it?

Willow felt as if her head was going to burst.

But one thing was for sure. No matter how things would go, no matter what happens or not, she would be here for Tara in every way she would need, and she'd show that she's worth it.

Willow's mathematical mind was relieved by the conclusion her linear (or rather quadratic) thinking had finally provided. With that determination, she stepped out of the shower.

Why is it every time I'm in there I get all philosophical?

As she dried herself, brushed her teeth, pulled on her black oversized shirt and gathered her discarded clothes, she started the mental preparation to return to the room.

Wherein was Tara.

She hoped the girl wasn’t asleep yet, the idea of disturbing her sleep seemed horrible to her. Oh, sleeping Tara, she thought, as she was passing along the hallway.
As she entered Tara’s room, the blonde was lying on her bed again but the music had changed. Another song that Willow recognized was now playing and Tara was quietly humming along to it.

First day of love never comes back,
A passionate hour's never a wasted one.
The violin, the poet's hand,
Every thawing heart plays your theme with care.

“Goddess, Tara. You really have a brilliant taste in music! “ Willow exclaimed and Tara’s lips curved into a smile.

“And you have an American accent.” She replied, mocking her gently and looking up at the ceiling. "My, that was really quick!"

It was great to hear another confident joke from Tara, and Willow was glad there were no signs of the stutter, so she decided to ease her even more, switching into her babble mode, releasing her own growing nervousness.

“I know. But in three days or so I will be all British, you know. Once I went for a week to Western Slovakia and-and I tell you what, these people talk toooootally differently in comparison to our Eastern sing-song accent. And..” she laughed sheepishly. “In two days or so I was talking like them. Blech.”

Tara chuckled, lifted herself on the elbow then shot a look at Willow’s shirt. “ 'Ich chef, du nix*?' ” she asked, quirking an eyebrow as she read Willow's shirt.

“Uhm.” Willow replied while she was tidying her clothes and putting them into closet.

“Well, that’s intimidating.” Tara remarked casually and Willow giggled, then jumped into the pull-out bed and hid under the covers.

“Good night, Will.” Tara murmured as she switched off the lights and turned down the music to a barely audible level.

“Night, Tara.” a muffled reply sounded from the lower bed.

“Want me to turn the music off?” Tara added after a few seconds.

“It’s ok. I like that kind of music.” Willow yawned. “Night.”

Willow didn’t really think she could sleep. She imagined Tara’s face which she figured she had deeply imprinted into her mind. Every detail. She kept tracing her contours in her mind and then… she finally fell asleep.

With a feeling.

Again.

*German slang, also a name of the movie. Basically it means "I'm the Boss, you're nothing."

Dibs

Great chapter. I love the details you are able to put into Willow's thinking.

Can't wait for more.

I completely agree with BuffyFan.

The way you describe Willow's feelings come into fruition was nothing short of amazing!

Very impressive.

Hope to see more soon.

Hi!

I really like this fic and I'm interested to see what happens when they start school. I love it when the girls have an instant connection:) Where is Tara's father anyway? I'm sure you will let us know eventually:)

Keep writing!!

Hi Sova,

First, you write with so much richness: detail, subtle movements, shifts of facial expression and mood changes. Then you layer them with more detail - music and poetry they like. Beautifully done . . . I LOVE your writing!

So in more detail, from a few posts back up to the present:
First, I love Willow's amazing plane dream and no, it's NOT about Tara - lovely twist! That is truly the most embarrassing moment Willow has ever had while remaining fully clothed - you are an architect of agony, very well constructed moment of true personal horror!

Been there, lovely description - adds to the "in their world" feeling that I love.
Love the myriad of emotions she feels and Tara's eyes ". . bruised with something. It was deep and arcane." Powerful writing and their instant love was beautifully written.

Moving on, I love their love of books and the contents of Tara's bookshelf - there is a definite kinship among the bookish, glad they had something to share.

So deeply touching. Again, peeling back the layers, giving them backstory and a very warm, human texture. You feel their moist, tearful breathing, their embrace, the ache of their hearts. Thank you.

As for the following lines; you make poetry out of pain.

That insight, that pain may shape us almost like an artisan's hand, that it's part of a design was lovely.

Then the fire, the icy fire . . . beautiful images, physical and gripping.

So . . . don't EVER apologize about your writing again, 'kay?

Thank you for sharing your gift.

Ariel
How I Met Your Mother

@BuffyFan4ever Thank you, hope you liked Willow's physics-y quirkiness.

@sarahncrys1017 Thank you very much for leaving regularly your feedback, I'm really valuing that.

@Finey_McFine Thank you! A bit of an insight is inserted into the next chapter. It doesn't explain much, but.... it's something, right?

@Ariel God, your feedback made me breathless. Thank you, thank you! This is really something I could get used to and I'm really glad you have such an opinion of my writing. Hope you'll like the further installments as well.


It was some sort of the dreams with noone in particular, when you simply don't care about 'who', but just about the feelings, I think. It just popped in my mind and yeah, here she was, Willow the talking-from-sleep-gal in the public place dreaming about naughtiness. Poor girl.
So again, thank you for your kind words.


I'm proudly announcing that the next installment is finally starting to look like my usual slovak writing and not just some (insect!) reflection in English, devalued in the process. In the following chapter were some passages when I just read what I'd written and said 'wow'.

(And Robert said 'wow' too, in fact he said I'm unbelievable - Hi Robert!)

They weren't really long but it's a progress. I actually thought 'wow' about my writing, just for a moment, but.... wow.

I hope you'll like it as much as I did for that moment! (*sneaks away to do final edit and send to beta*)

S.

Okay, the next chapter is here. Enjoy! I really hope you'll like it, as I said, the story is finally starting to look like my usual writing in Slovak. And I finally discovered a way to include spontaneous thought-'outbursts' of characters into the story, without interrupting its flow. Yay for me! The LSD-kinda-dream is really crazy. It's actually a metaphore.




Meadow. Flowers and soft gentle spring breezes. Feeling. Your skin pressed firmly into the ground awakening your senses, one by one. The sun warming your bare back. Isn't it colder now? Doesn't it feel colder? Innocent pure loneliness in your own emptiness. Did you woke up? Who are you?

(Waking up is knowing who you really are.)

The earth is stroking your body, your limbs, your heart. You can't move. You're rooted. Your heart is rooted. If you try to move, you'll die. Do you want to die?

(A life has been bought with death.)

Serenity. Scent? A sweet and tender scent of lavender. Serenity. Breathtaking silence is gone, blessed with a barely audible soft flowing of a river; as if it was afraid to let anybody know of its presence. Whispering to you, only you. Is this real?

Paths of dirt on the ground, anointing you. Heat. Ice cold water grazing your limbs, an endless stream; never stopping, never interrupting its flow, oblivious to the happenings around.

Your hot tears melding into the water, too busy hurrying into oblivion to pay mind. Your grief disappears as soon as it enters the surface. It's insignificant.

You're insignificant.

One among the many, you'll die. All die.

Everything dies.

(A life has been bought with death.)

You have been weeping since you were born.

And then there was the feeling.

Heat emanating from the earth, giving you life, a new hope, new sunrise. Strength. Grass gently swinging into an unknown cadence of life itself, stroking your face and calling you.

(For it's not the air I breathe, but you,)

The energy transferred from the earth, healing you, saving you, releasing you. A moan echoes in your mind, is it real? Blazing heat spills through your body from your very core, mending you, renewing you, reviving you. Do you want to scream?

(for it's not the earth nurturing me, but you.)

The life has been bought with death.

Can you feel your tears?

Who paid the price? Who withered? Who died?

You. And the earth will devour you.

Again.



Willow slowly rose into a wakeful state, shivering and covered in sweat. The redhead sighed, rolled onto her back and arched her body. Quiet cracking of her joints stabbing through the silence like a dagger.

She paid it no mind, for she was still confused from her dream. She couldn't believe that her dream had been so sensual, yet so terrifying at the same time.

Dear crazy right-hand sister. Please stop with insane dreams. Thanks in advance. Take care, signed, sane left-hemisphere. she thought grimly.

It was a cold morning. A cold, wet, English morning. Insecure. Could a morning be an insecure one? It replaced the night in such gentle and shy manner Willow almost believed it could. The sun had politely avoided shining directly into the room, as if it was afraid to intrude, so it just let its rays graze upon the roof window and blessed the room with a soft illumination of a

(new beginning)

new day.

The sound of Tara's soft breathing filled the room as Willow sat up on her bed to have a better view of her soundly sleeping with her body pressed into the bed-frame, wrapped in a thick blanket. Hiding. Protecting herself. As Willow watched Tara's asleep form she sighed and hugged her knees to her chest. What's her story?

From time to time the girl's body shook heavily, the sudden movement rupturing the peaceful stillness of the room violently. Willow knew that was rather common when one was in the REM phase of sleep and she supposed that's where Tara was. She didn't really want it to be some another reason. What's her story?

She remembered yesterday's events. Her feelings for this girl washed over her with renewed fiery vigor and she fought with her instincts, to not go and lie beside Tara and stroke her back gently to comfort her. Willow smiled as she remembered the soft honey curve of Tara's neck and her arms wrapped around her. Her warm, trembling body pressed into hers, making her feel so proteced and strong.

The redhead was suddenly snapped from her reverie as she heard Tara move on her bed to her back. Her hair were now framing her sculpted serene face, a knowing smile spreading on her lips, her delicate hand hanging from the edge of the bed. Willow held her breath, for she was awestruck and afraid that this gorgeous scene in front of her might evanesce in the wakeful opening of Tara's eyes. Her own heartbeat was echoing in her ears, disturbing her from hearing the most beautiful reassuring cadence giving life to a sleeping goddess. Rays nuzzled Tara's high cheekbones, accenting them and her blonde hair were now illuminated by a soft caress of sunlight, enlightening each thread, giving them a shine of their own.

(Angels' wings could be sewn from this hair)

Willow wondered what would happen if she touched those heavenly locks, for something as pure and celestial certainly couldn't stand the touch of her dirty hand. She imagined her hand stroking Tara's hair, dissolving once the contact was made.

The mortal's hand. All mortals are corrupted.

What's her story?

As her gaze roamed over Tara's face, it was immediately arrested by her full lips. Oh, those lips. The finest work of a sculptor, paying attention to exquisite detail of the shallow split on Tara's lower lip. Willow couldn't help but envy the air entering Tara's mouth and body, giving her life, stroking her lips. Was the oxygen even aware how lucky it was? To be able to continuously enter Tara's body and mouth? To decompose inside her and course through her veins, before being exhaled as a completely different molecule through her mouth, giving a farewell caress to her lips. What would they taste like?

Willow brought her hand to her own lip and grazed upon it with her fingertips. It felt almost rough to her, like a heavy cotton in comparison to the satin softness of Tara's lips. Inviting and pleading. What would they taste like?

As she brought her hand down from her face, she allowed it to tenderly slide over Tara's wrist to the back of her hand, making a faint contact, nearly impalpable. When their hands touched, Willow felt her heartbeat quickening in a response and Tara shivered. A beat.

Now she'll hate me.

Then everything dies.

Dozens of heartbeats passed and Tara was still soundly asleep, not even Willow's touch, nor the sun insistently announcing the dawning of the new day succeeding in waking up the sleeping goddess.

Willow smiled, relieved. She hoped that each and every day could start like this, with her watching Tara sleep peacefully. She haven't even spent one full day in England, yet it already felt like her new home, her old one being abandoned.

For home is a place where you can feel freely.

When Willow woke up yesterday, she was in God-forsaken Slovakia, in her room. No sun shining through the roof-window painting scenic pictures. No Tara-light. Just her big, plain and dark room. A reminder of emptiness. As her phone alarm had finally gone off after long hours of anticipation, Willow jumped from her bed, once more checked her bag for all her packed things, dressed and prepared herself, then downed a mug of coffee, the only thing that would keep her going after the night of no sleep. And then she just called a taxi to an airport. She hadn't even bothered waking up her parents to ask for a ride or even say goodbye. She just left. Left for her new temporary life, her new temporary self, undefiled, hair newly cut, and determined. Her parents were going to be temporarily dead to her. That's why she hadn't called them when she had got to London. She had left them behind, she had abandoned them like they once had abandoned her. And she was free.

Un-erasable betrayal, yet erased from the consciousness. Couldn't they see?

And now she was free, spreading her wings and flying away from the hurt, bearing only the malevolent reminders - memories assaulting her in the dark alleys of her busy mind, twisting the knife of her self-awareness. Reminding her who she once was. Reminding her who she is now. Reminding her of the painful change.

As everything dies.

And they don't even care.

As she stared absently at Tara's sleeping form, it occurred to her that she has a task ahead.

She checked her phone, (Saturday, 8am), then quietly shuffled from her bed and out of the room, closing the door, leaving Tara behind. She wondered what would the blonde girl like for breakfast. Does she drink coffee? Willow's mind was suddenly filled with fantasies of Tara drinking hot, steaming coffee, the warm liquid moistening her oh so gorgeous! lips, making her mouth hot, vigorous, insistent and bitter. Passionate, just like coffee. Willow immediately decided that she was going to make a coffee for Tara too.



Willow finally emerged from the kitchen and started to walk up the stairs, a tray with a steaming mug of coffee and two slices of toast with honey in her hands. She hoped that Tara liked honey. It had made perfect sense down in the kitchen, Tara smelled like honey, so Tara, strictly theoretically, would like her toast with honey. It does make sense. Right?

As Willow cautiously entered Tara's room, she put the tray on the desk then sat down on Tara's bed, her eyes immediately seeking out the blonde girl who was still sleeping. She looked so peaceful, like an angel, heaven sent. Could a poet describe such beauty? His poem could but borrow Tara's grace. Could a musician compose more gorgeous song than the cadence of gentle spring breeze that was Tara's breathing?

Only nature could create such perfection.

Only nature could invent such a perfect shade of celestial blue in Tara's eyes which suddenly fluttered open, locking with hazel ones.

"Hey! I-I.." Willow nervously looked around the room to find some excuse for staring at the blonde girl, and quickly getting up from her bed. "I-I brought you breakfast! Hope ya like.. coffee?" she smiled, hopefully, pointing to Tara's desk, her mind once again delivering rather pleasant images of the other girl pressing her lips into the mug of coffee, now spreading its earthy aroma around the room, so the images were even more real.

Tara seemed to process all this information, then blinked, the pools of blue reappearing a bit confused, but not uncomfortable. "Uhm." she nodded, then cleared her throat. "Thank you, Will." she added, dropping her gaze and blushing furiously.

As Tara's lips formed these words, Willow just stared, entranced. She struggled to find a word that would describe the sight of Tara again slowly closing her eyes but all her coherent thoughts were gone as Tara's lips curled into a dreamy smile.

How would they taste like?

(Coffee!)

Tara sat on her bed and arched her back, her breasts pressing into the soft moonlight fabric of her night-gown. Willow gasped, her eyes pinned on the blonde's chest, feeling the tips of her ears reddening.

Now she'll hate me!

She immediately dropped her gaze onto the floor, her entire being flooded with desire and despair, for she couldn't have this woman, this goddess.

I'm just Willow.

"Umm, hope you like toast with... h-honey." she managed to stammer out, fidgeting with the edge of her shirt.

"I do. Thanks. But..." Tara gave her a meaningful sleepy look, her quirked eyebrow asking an unspoken question and Willow jumped into an explanation, grateful to have something to distract the direction of her thoughts.

"Your mom and I had a deal yesterday. She did the dishes, and I insisted on sorta 'payback'."

"Oh."

Was Willow just imagining it, or had Tara's expression dropped a bit? She decided to act, ignoring her growing shyness and uneasiness and spoke in a deep voice, trying to feign the British accent.

"Tis' a pleasure of mine to bring my lady her breakfast in bed." Willow grinned at her own silliness, bringing the tray over to the blonde girl. Tara accepted it gratefully, sitting up and leaning onto the bedhead, dreamily inhaling the smell of coffee.

"Thank you." Tara smiled.

As Willow spotted Tara wearing her amused half-smile, she continued. "For, my lady, your smile is melting icebergs and..." Willow didn't finish her spontaneous chivalrously-sounding compliment as the truth of these words hit her, hit her hard and her false cloak of confidence shattered. Her jaw dropped slightly as she caught a playful glint of crimson appearing on Tara's cheeks.

She didn't drop her head, that's good, isn't it?

If she did, she would have honey stuck on her hair!

"You.. you have to eat. I have to.." (sublimate!) "go.. to the bathroom." With that words Willow fled politely, escaping the gorgeous goddess haunting her, leaving the oncoming fulfillment of her coffee fantasy behind.

As she got into the bathroom, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She examined her eyes, blue with brown spreading from the center of her iris, leaving the illusion of green. It was no secret that the iris was a mirror into the one's physical and psychical state. Willow's was a perfect reflection. Born innocent, with love, yet through her life the purity had been shaded by something stronger. But she looked normal from this distance. She looked as if she had beautiful sparkling green eyes, happy and untouched. Everybody supposed that. Nobody ever got that close to see her real nature, her real eyes, her freckles, her scars.

I'm just Willow.

Willow the ugly dykeling.

As if she could ever love me.

The redhead couldn't bear to look at herself anymore. She quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth, inhaled deeply and again relived the same nervousness about returning to the room as she had the evening before. Wherein is (the gorgeous, smart, fragile, shy, perfect, coffee-drinking, gown-wearing, precious) Tara.

As Willow strode back through the hallway, she noticed the small framed photo, taken in Trafalgar Square. Her eyes instantly picked out Tara - she may have been like 8, no more. Her blonde hair was long, much longer then now but she was equally as stunning, so innocent, so pure, her eyes so happy and curious, unlike the one's she had now. There were two adults, Mrs. Maclay, young and without the wrinkles, and Mr. Maclay - obviously, because he had the same blonde hair and piercing cold blue eyes and he was wearing the same smile as little Tara. His arm rested around Tara's shoulders possessively and he beamed with a father's pride. And there was some kid there too. Tara's brother?

Where is he?

He looked like he was 5, maybe 6. He was small and had Mrs. Maclay chocolate-brown hair. Both his mother's hands were resting on his shoulders. All were smiling, Tara shooting a soft smile and her small brother a full-mouth grin, revealing a few gaps from missing baby teeth. They looked happy.

What happened to this? What did this man do to Tara? Did he die? Was Tara just mourning his loss? Or something happened? And what about her brother?

Willow turned away from the photo and found herself looking at Tara. Her expression was cryptic, but Willow could clearly see lightning striking from her eyes and her lips pressed firmly together.

"Tara, who's that?" Willow tried her chances, pointing towards the boy at the photo, hoping she wouldn't upset the other girl.

"That's my brother, Donny." Tara's expression softened, as her tongue lingered on the consonants in her brother's name, but then as she looked at the photo, her gaze hardened and Willow saw it.

(love buoyed with hurt, devotion built by denial and ache for control, regret for what could have been.)

Tara inhaled deeply, then breathed out words that made Willow freeze.

"He's dead."


TBC

Dibs.

Will return with proper feedback later.

Ok, sorry it was 3am-ish when I read this the first time. I have been reading all along and needless to say your story is interesting. I want to know more about Willow's life and why she is so set on her parents being "dead" to her while she is away.

I always feel so bad when she calls herself and "ugly little dykeling", I just want to give her a hug. I want to know more about why she beats herself up so much.

Now, here with the last bit, you give us just enough to keep the speculation up about where the rest of Tara's family may be. Donny's dead but what about her father?

There is already a connection on some level, now to just see where you go and what you do with it.


Heather