Renee85
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I decided to start a new story, something more meaningful and deep than the one I have already on the board. ‘Christmas Carols’ is a sort of comedic fluff I wanted to write in order to bring smiles to people’s faces and I think it’s going pretty good. To the readers… thank you for the replies and support. I intend to continue on with that story as I start this new one, it will be a handful but I think I can handle it.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine.
Premise:
-Willow, Xander, and Buffy are best friends.
-Willow and Tara have not met and are not together…yet.
-Buffy isn’t the slayer and Willow and Tara aren’t witches.
-There are no vampires, demons, hellmouth, etc…
- Joyce is alive and well, as it should be.
- I love Dawn but she isn’t going to be in this one, go and check out my other story ‘Christmas Carols’ and you’ll find her there…I’m just not ready to write about a much younger Dawn since in this fic Buffy is only 17 years old.
-Willow is TOTALLY gay, everyone knows it. She isn’t completely comfortable with it because she hasn’t yet found the one she loves.
-Tara is living with her father and brother, but don’t worry she’ll be leaving home to live somewhere else soon.
-Anya….hmmm….I might introduce her in…I’m still not sure yet.
Timeline: This story takes place when the whole gang are seniors in high school.
Note: In the first scene Tara’s mother had just died a month ago and Tara is visiting the graveyard. This fic will be a mix of angst, self-identity, and romance. The angst in this story is a sharp contrast to that of ‘Christmas Carols’ so be warned.
Rating: This fic can vary from a ‘G’-rating to ‘NC-17’…but it will be a slow process. The NC-17 won’t come for a long time so all under aged readers don’t have to worry much yet. So for now, I’m leaving it at ‘R’ just to be safe.
Feedback: I hope people reply, I really do. I worked really hard to make this fic as good as it possibly can get and I really wish people don’t just ignore it. Read it, reply, it doesn’t take that long!!!
Nah…joke. Reply if you have something to say, no pressure whatsoever. I love feedback. I live for it, it’s like a drug.Summary: Tara is still grieving the loss of her mother as she struggles to make it at home day by day with her father and brother breathing down her neck. Willow is gay and looking for love but can’t seem to find it, looking in all the wrong places. As Willow, Buffy, and Xander are in their senior year of high school, Willow meets Tara. It is then when a new love starts and Willow gives Tara hope for the future and help with her grief.
Extra Note: The images here are from the scoobygang.net site by webmaster. I emailed them for permission to use the photos but I haven't heard from them yet. If it shouldnt be here then anyone feel free to tell me so I can edit it out. I just thought it was a nice touch.
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Spreading Wings: The trenuous journey through life
Part One
Grief: Missing You
"Rough wind, that moanest loud
Grief too sad for song;
Wild wind, when sullen cloud
Knells all the night long;
Sad storm, whose tears are vain,
Bare woods, whose branches strain,
Deep caves and dreary main, -
Wail, for the world's wrong!"
Percy Bysshe Shelley, Dirge
Saturday Morning: 8:00 a.m.
Bright bluebirds twittered high overhead, dangling its slender legs onto the thin branches of a willow tree. Their melodic sounds filled the spacious graveyard with a rare sense of liveliness, surrounding the atmosphere’s ambiance of stillness and death with one of life. Yet, it was just an illusion, a distraction, and a facade. Reality strikes closer than anything else, as it always does, and always will.
Through it all the birds continue to sing their song, the happiness of it all inadvertently overshadowing the real darkness below them. Though, if you thought about it hard enough, it might not have been darkness at all, it might have been something completely different. It all depends on perspective and perspective all depends on the person.
Tara didn’t know what to think, losing her mother was the most difficult and hard hitting experience she has ever had to go through and right at this instant she was pretty much lost, not knowing who she was or who she could be without her mother by her side.
Her mother was the only person in the world who loved her, who she could count on and learn from. The only other person in the entire universe that she could trust to tell her uttermost secrets to and share her life stories with. She had no one else. She will never have anyone else again.
Tara stood on top of the bright emerald grass of the hillside, the heels of her shoes rubbing gently across the green meadow of the cemetery lawn. In her hands, gripping tightly between slender and trembling fingers, were a beautiful and picturesque bouquet of yellow and white daises and roses, colorful and vibrant under the sunlight’s bright and luminous glow from above.
Tara’s cheeks were a thin sheen of tears, the salty and warm drops of liquid flowing quickly down pale white skin, dropping softly onto the lively petals and leaves of her mother’s favorite flowers.
Tara was in a train of continuous thought, her brain waves never tiring. She stood at the foot of her beloved mother’s grave in contemplation, quiet reflection and remembrance. Lifting her head to the heavens and shutting her eyelids to block the sun’s rays above her, Tara’s blonde hair swayed gently in the wind, brushing softly over her shoulders and face.
Silently grieving.
I would never have fathomed myself being in a place like this, not so soon anyway. Despite the undeniable peacefulness and quietude that emanates from this area, there’s just nothing in this world that would ever make me want to come here. Except for one thing, this is where you are, and because of that I will always be coming here.
It’s kind of ironic that the one place I promised myself I would never set my foot on is now like my second home. I can’t even count how many times I’ve walked over the warm grass of this graveyard, how many headstones I pass to the one I always come to, and how many bouquets of flowers I’ve bought. Day after day, week after week, I visit her.
I hope she know how happy she’s made me that being around her made my heart sing. That I appreciated the warm home she provided for me, protecting me from my father’s harsh words, his verbal abuse I tried to shield myself from every single day I was alive. I need her to know that she’ll never be forgotten, and that I will always remember her in my heart. I need her to know everything.
The thing that kills me the most is that I’ll never know if she knows… if there really is an afterlife or a heaven. I want to believe so much that there is because she deserves to be in a place of peace and happiness, but I have my doubts. I don’t want to have them but I can’t help it. But if there is then she is definitely there and I’m glad that she is…I really, really am.
Though the inner selfishness in my want her back, I think anyone who has lost someone knows how that feels and has felt that too. The overwhelming need to want to bring them back, no matter what the cost, that even when you hold the knowledge that this person is happy in heaven—you wouldn’t care. But I do care; I don’t want to disappoint her.
I want to make her proud; I always want to make her proud. Everyday is giant hole in my heart. Everyday it’s like my heart were being ripped from out of my chest. Everyday I feel as if I am only a shell of what I once was.
I miss you so much.
Tara knelt down on her knees, the blue of her jeans hitting roughly onto the damp and humid turf below her, the waterlogged sod and dirt caking her denims near the knees, but Tara hadn’t cared.
The young blonde set down the bouquet of flowers at the base of her mother’s gravestone tenderly; the tears in her eyes dripping gradually down her cheeks, her full heart in a million shattered pieces.
Tara stared at the plain grey headstone in utter silence, sniffling quietly in her sorrow and grief until a vivid memory of her past came upon her, engulfing her into the moment.
She felt as if she were there.
She was there in the moment, reliving it as if it were now.
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Little Tara was in bed, unable to fall asleep. She tossed and turned under her sesame street sheets but she still couldn’t fall into slumber. Her mother had told her that her bed time was at eight o’clock but it was already 8:30 and she was still wide awake.
“Tara?” Isabelle Maclay questioned from her perch at the oak door, peeking her head into Little Tara’s room, her eyes narrowed questionably when she saw that her daughter was fidgeting on her bed, still awake. “Shouldn’t you be asleep, sweetie?” the woman asked softly, sitting tenderly at Tara’s bedside.
“I couldn’t sleep mommy.” The little blonde girl stated in a whisper, her voice barely audible and her face hard to see under the dim lights of the small bedroom, a small night light was plugged into the far wall of the room. “I try and try but my eyes can’t close.” Little Tara explained, her tiny eyes softening.
Isabelle beamed softly, her blue eyes sparkling. “Did you try counting sheep?” she asked in a tender and delicate voice, her hands beginning a warm and tender stroking motion over Tara’s short blonde tresses. “They always worked with me.”
“They didn’t work this time, mommy.” Little Tara shook her head lightly from side to side, her blonde hair sweeping gently over her shoulders. “I’m sorry.” She added softly, her eyes downcast as she broke her eye contact with her mother.
“Hey…Tara-bear…” Isabelle brought her hands to gently cup Tara’s chin, lifting her daughter’s head to meet her gaze. “It’s okay.” The blonde woman reassured, tenderly squeezing closer to Tara’s side, wrapping her arms around the young girl’s shoulders.
“Tell me a bedtime story.” Little Tara asked, her deep azure orbs pleading.
“How about I sing you a lullabie instead?” Isabelle tilted her head, her luminous smile lighting up the whole room. “Maybe you can sing with me?”
Tara's eyes beamed.
"You know the song." Her mother smiled, nudging Tara's shoulder gently.
Little Tara nodded and the two began to sing.
"The other night dear, as I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you in my arms
But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried."
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away"
"I'll always love you and make you happy,
If you will only say the same.
But if you leave me and love another,
You'll regret it all some day"
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away"
"You told me once, dear, you really loved me
And no one else could come between.
But not you've left me and love another;
You have shattered all of my dreams..."
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away"
"In all my dreams, dear, you seem to leave me
When I awake my poor heart pains.
So when you come back and make me happy
I'll forgive you dear, I'll take all the blame."
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away...."
After they were finished, Isabelle smiled at her daughter and tenderly tucked her girl into bed. "I think you can sleep better now." She smiled at the tiny blonde, ruffling up her blonde hair playfully.
"I think I can, mommy." Tara smiled. "I think I can."
~~~~~~
“Mom…” Tara managed to utter in a broken and mournful voice, her words cracking in her throat as her hands and arms outstretched to touch the granite marker that was propped in front of her.
The tears that she had been trying in vain to hold back were now streaming quickly down her face, dropping onto the green earth at her feet and seeping into the dirt and soil under her knees. She was sobbing now, her esophagus closing in on her, causing her to gulp loudly.
“Mom, I…I miss you.” She felt herself voice, her fingers rickety and tremulous as she traced the angel engraving just above her mother’s name. “I…”
“Tara…” A man’s brawny and strapping words could be heard just behind her, rough and coarse in tone. “I think you should come home now.” He affirmed, standing his ground in authority.
Tara turned her head at the sound of her father’s voice, whipping her head quickly behind her, the tears in her eyes beginning to dry to second she heard her father’s voice. She didn’t want to appear weak in her father’s eyes; she didn’t want her father to revel in satisfaction at seeing her daughter weep at the grave of her mother.
“I…I want to stay here for a bit.” She declared weakly, turning her head back to gaze at the gravestone in front of her. “Please.” She added softly, her head downcast.
Steve Maclay stood in silence, his strong arms crossed in front of his broad chest in an attempt at looking more intimidating and menacing in the eyes of his daughter, purposely saying nothing as if Tara would recognize his immobile silence as more words than he cared to muster, the silence pierced deeper than any words he could say before then.
Tara closed her eyes and swallowed, her back to her father’s stabbing gaze. Still, she said nothing, not moving from her place on the ground. She knew it would anger him but she hadn’t wanted to move from where she had felt closest to her mother since her death a month ago, this was her special place and she hadn’t wanted to let that place go.
“You have breakfast to make.” Steve proclaimed with his arms still crossed. “You’re mother may be dead but your brother and I still need to live…we have a life.” He articulated his voice cold and bitter.
‘What about me?’ Tara screamed in her head. ‘Don’t I need to live?’
“Go home, Tara.” The blonde’s father demanded his eye twitching in restrained anger, his mouth and jaw clenched as he tried to suppress his ferocity.
“This is no place for the living.” He stated calmly, his eyes narrowing as he studied the back of his daughter’s head, remembering the same color of blonde tresses his wife used to have. He swallowed once in a sudden and unexpected tinge of grief, closing his eyes momentarily as he tried in vain to not give in to his emotions.
Tara exhaled deeply, her back still turned to her father. The fair-haired blonde closed her eyes and nodded wordlessly, sniffling a bit.
A beat.
“Tara, don’t think for a moment that I don’t miss your mother.” He shook his head stepping the few strides closer to his daughter, his emotions conflicting between melancholy and anger. “But she’s gone and she’s never coming back…and you need to accept that.”
‘What if I can’t?’ Tara thought despondently. ‘What if I never will?’
Tara got up from her knees, her jeans caked in brown dirt and sod. Her face was dismal and saddened as she moved reluctantly to her father. “How about bacon and eggs?” the blonde asked softly, her azure orbs not meeting those of her father’s.
She had a specialty for pancakes, making them into different funny shapes and sizes, but she only made them for her mother. She only made them for people she loved and admired, and as much as she hated to admit to the fact that she hadn’t admired her father, she couldn’t deny the truth.
“Donny’s’ waiting.” Steve Maclay stated simply, his inconsistent emotions bringing him back to anger. He was angry at life, he was angry that his wife had died, and all that anger was being built up inside his body, ready to explode into a fiery mass of disastrous proportions.
Tara nodded her head and walked away from the gravestone as Steve stayed back. He watched his daughter walk away for several seconds, waiting until she was completely out of his view. Steve turned around and his gaze brought his eyes towards the gravestone that was propped on the ground, the beautiful daises and roses sitting silently at the base.
His eyes were hard for a moment as he kneeled down on his knees, staring at the headstone in anger. His fist was clenched tightly in the air as if he were going to pound at the marble marker, but his fist loosened and his eyes softened after a long period of time.
He brought his right hand to rest on the top of the gravestone as he rested his head against the granite marker; quietly he stayed that way, his head downcast as he wept silently.
The headstone read:
Isabelle Marie Maclay
1957-1998
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The day was impeccable; the sun was shining brightly overhead, bringing an incandescent glow to the earth below. The sky was clear blue with white, colorless clouds littering the heavens in a heavy sheen of patterns and shapes. If you stared long enough at the clouds, the billows of vaporous fluffy masses would transform into different unique and distinctive shapes and structures.
On occasion you’d come to make out an outline of a butterfly sitting idly on a lively and vibrant flower, nestling it’s antenna into the yellow colored pollen inside its colorful petals. There wasn’t really any color, but Willow imagined them in her head.
Willow, Buffy, and Xander were lying on the beaches smooth sand, their gaze at the sky above them. There was a rather hefty and oversized towel propped beneath them, a picnic basket at their side.
“I see a butterfly.” Willow stated softly, looking up at the heavens and pointing at the feathery white heaps above them. “It’s so pretty.”
Buffy, who was lying beside Willow on the towel, turned her head to look at Willow. Willow was still gazing at the sky with merry wonderment; her eyes were wide as she was engrossed at the figures in the heavens, completely distracted. “You do?” she questioned, bringing her gaze back up at the clouds overhead. “Where?” she asked as she began squinting her eyes in question.
Xander propped himself onto his elbows, looking up as well. “It’s right there, Buffy.” He pointed at the sky, jovial and filled with contentment and exhilaration. “See its little wings?”
Buffy looked up at the white clouds and frowned, not seeing what her friends were distinguishing. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Buffy stated blankly, shaking her head. She squinted her hazel orbs once more, searching the colorless masses up above, her eyes darting across the large expanse of the heavens…seeing nothing.
Willow turned her head to the side and watched as Buffy tried in vain, her futile attempts at locating the winged insect bringing her nowhere, Buffy was still eyeing the clouds, her eyes narrowed in contemplation.
“Here.” Willow said after a while, scooting closer to her friend until their bodies were close together, pressing against each other tightly. Willow pressed her head against Buffy’s, their bodies directly touching.
Willow smiled and looked up, not registering the slight fear and uncomfortable in Buffy’s eyes, not sensing her friend tense in her arms. Willow took Buffy’s hand into her own, bringing their joined arms into the air so the redhead could point at the butterfly in the clouds, its colorless outlining and figure almost fading in the wind.
Xander watched the two girls in silence, noticing Buffy’s facial features, seeing the blonde flinch. He frowned in concern, they had just found out that Willow was gay and he figured that Buffy was still a tad uncomfortable with the revelation. He knew that the blonde loved Willow but perhaps being this close together wasn’t the best thing right now.
“See?” Willow turned her head to face Buffy, their hands still intertwined. “Butterfly.” The redhead smiled.
Buffy nodded, gulping.
A beat.
Willow frowned; she looked closely at her best friend and detected the worrisome features on Buffy’s face. Willow looked at her more thoroughly, frowning again. “Buffy…” Willow whispered softly, her eyes hurt. She let go of Buffy’s arm and scooted a few inches away. “Are you uncomfortable being around me?” the redhead asked in a pained voice.
Buffy’s hazel eyes widened. “No!” the blonde denied but it wasn’t enough to convince the redhead who was now sitting up and looking down at her lap. “No.” she said more softly, bringing her hand to rest on Willow’s shoulder, sitting up as well.
Xander was Buffy’s side, quietly listening on.
Willow roughly pushed away Buffy’s hands away from her, scooting away from her friend. “If that’s true then why did you have that look on your face?” she questioned, her eyes tearing up a bit, a thin sheen of tears developing under her eye lids. “Like you were uncomfortable being around me?” she demanded, standing up on her heels, looking down at her best friend.
“I…” Buffy faltered, opening and closing her mouth unconsciously. “I wasn’t…”
“Is it because I’m gay?” Willow asked in a small voice, her face scrunched up in wounded hurt, her tears shining, Willow was always apprehensive about telling the world who she was, and she worried immensely about telling her friends.
The biggest fear and dread that she carried in her heart was losing her two best friends. She had thought that Buffy was reasonably okay about everything but perhaps she was mistaken. “Is that the reason you pulled away?” she inquired, her voice tiny.
“No!” Buffy assured, standing up to meet Willow’s sad eyes. “No, Willow…” she said more softly, her eyes sincere and earnest. She didn’t want to pull away from Willow, but a part of her had felt uncomfortable at the redhead’s touch.
Something inside her told her that it wasn’t right for Willow to be this close to her and she knew that she shouldn’t feel this way but it was a magnetic and unconscious pull. She loved Willow, she always will, and she honestly didn’t know why she had pulled away.
“I don’t know why I acted that way because I love you Willow and I would never…” she shook her head, stepping closer to the retreating redhead. “I would never not want to be with you.”
A beat.
“We love you, Willow.” Xander stood up as well, treading closer to his friend he took the redhead into his arms and hugged her closely.
Buffy smiled at her two friends and rushed into the group hug, squeezing Willow and Xander tightly between her.
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To be continued
I'll only continue it if people like it, if not....I still have Christmas Carols.
Tell me what you think, I hate to be hanging.
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For some life lasts a short while, but the memories it holds last forever. -L. Swenson
"You make a place for her in your heart, it's sort of like she becomes a part of you. Does that make sense?" - Tara
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??? And if this isn't enough feedback, just let me know. I have tons of stuff i can say about this fic..... =) 
that was so much fun to read