Well, Kittens, here is the first half of the next update. Sorry for the delay, but what with being "on the continent" and being in car accidents and all the lovely stuff real life throws our way, it's taken some doing. Anyway, hope you all like it, and thanks for reading, and especially, all of your support. You all make it worthwhile! Enjoy!
Title: Insight
Author: KrisBo5 (Kris, please, we're all friends here)
Email address: KrisBo5@aol.com
Feedb Again, please, I'd love it.
Distribution: This, like Darkness Falls, is the narrative form of a spec script I had written for BVS, which is registered with the WGAw, so please don't publish it or reproduce it in any way, shape, or form. If for some reason you'd like to, just ask first. It's the polite thing to do.
Spoilers: Hmm, I'd say definitely up to Season 6. Past "Hell's Bells" but not up to "Entropy." Yeah, somewhere around the middle of those, but I'm taking liberties.
Rating: This covers the story in its entirety: PG-13 to NC–17. This includes sex, some mild violence, language.
Pairing: Willow and Tara, of course. Buffy and the others are here as well.
Disclaimer: Hey, I didn't create these characters, those kudos belong to Joss and crew. I'm just borrowing them for the story I did write.
Summary: The Scoobies have gotten back together, just not "back together." Tara's got some kind of "power." Buffy's "gone missing." And, then there are those pesky demons. . . .
Note: Unlike DF, this is a little lighter, a little more comedic, a little less verbose. Really, a straight translation from script-to-narrative format. Without further ado, here it is. . .
Insight, Part Two: Act One(1D)Dawn launched another peanut through the air towards Xander's open, awaiting mouth. The carpenter ducked quickly as it approached, catching the morsel squarely on his tongue. "Woo! That's six-- a new record."
Xander chomped the peanut into oblivion and smiled. He leaned forward towards the teen. "Keep going. We'll set a record no one will ever come near!" he said, right before he opened his mouth for the next Planter's Scud Missile.
Dawn laughed and scooped up a handful of peanuts, readying herself. "Okay, here we go. . . number seven." She took aim and fired, watching as the peanut sailed over the coffe table. . .
. . . right into Buffy's open hand.
"Hey!" Dawn yelled, giving her sister a perturbed look.
"Yeah, hey!" Xander echoed.
Dawn pointed at Buffy's hand as she quickly glanced at Xander. "That doesn't count!"
Buffy casually closed her hand around the peanut and dropped her hand to her side. "There'll be no throwing of the snack food," she said in her best hoity-toity, 'I'm the boss' voice. Dawn rolled her eyes, giving the Slayer her own version of a 'who made you boss?' expression. Buffy smirked. "At least-- not until everyone is here," she said, as she popped the peanut in her mouth and turned away, heading for the kitchen.
An ear-to-ear grin spread over Dawn's face. "Food fight," she said, bouncing up-and-down in place on the couch.
Xander squinted his eyes and nodded. He smiled evilly and began to rub his hands together. "Exxxcellent." He leaned forward again, elbows resting on his knees. "Now, Dawnster, back to business." He flicked his thumb in the direction of Buffy's retreating form. "Do-over." He opened his mouth, signaling his readiness for the next shot.
Dawn grinned broadly and raised her hand, taking aim. "Exxxcellent."
***
Willow held on tight as Tara's body pushed into hers, pressing the backs of the redhead's legs into the nightstand. Willow's hands clenched at Tara's shirt, grasping and pulling, as the blonde's mouth moved over every inch of her own.
Tara. . . .
Goddess, Willow. . . . Tara felt like she was losing control over herself; all she could think of, all she could feel, all she wanted. . . was Willow. She was starving for her. She wanted to devour her.
Every. Single. Inch. Of. Her.
One of Tara's hands slid from Willow's cheek into her hair, holding the redhead's mouth more tightly against her own as she suckled and tasted its softness; her other hand moved lower, gliding to rest at the base of Willow's throat, her fingers and thumb pressing lightly against the pulse points, her palm resting over her chest. Tara could feel the fast and furious beating of Willow's heart through her skin, and it only served to incite her passion more.
Oh. . . . Willow released Tara's shirt and quickly slid her arms up until her hands pressed flat against the blonde's back, both pulling the blonde closer and holding her own body upright.
Taking Willow's movement as a sign of encouragement, Tara dropped her hand lower, letting it slide from the skin of the redhead's throat over the cottony material of her shirt, finally coming to rest on Willow's breast. A low moan surfaced from somewhere deep in the back of her own throat, and Tara shifted forward even more, pushing a skirt-covered knee between Willow's legs.
Every cell inside Willow's body vibrated, careening wildly against one another, as if her skin could no longer contain them. Tara's touch was making her feel like her body was flying apart and imploding all at the same time. . . . sweet Goddess.
Tara gently squeezed Willow's breast, running her thumb over the nipple, feeling it harden beneath her touch. She pressed in closer, trying to eliminate all distance between them, resting her knee against the nightstand to support them both.
Willow's body bowed back over the nightstand as Tara moved into her. And, as the blonde touched her, her upper leg in between her thighs, her hand on her breast, Willow felt her body melt away. Her legs, unsteady with her passion, buckled at last, and Willow felt herself falling backwards. She let go of Tara, one arm swinging behind her to stop her fall; unfortunately, her hand struck the small lamp on the table, sending it to the floor with a thundering CRASH!
Startled, Willow pulled her mouth away from Tara's, her eyes darting quickly to the floor. Pieces of lamp littered the carpet like a dismantled jigsaw puzzle, repleat with crushed lamp shade and broken lightbulb. Shit! Suave, Rosenberg. . . . Willow turned her gaze to Tara, only to find the blonde's darkened by desire, heavy-lidded with need, looking deeply into her own; her breath hitched in her throat, her heartbeat picking up it's pace once again. "Your lamp." Oh, please.
Tara's eyes dropped to Willow's throat, watching the redhead's heart pound out its erratic, unstable beat. She closed her eyes. Willow. . . .
"I broke it," Willow continued, her voice trembling, barely above a whisper.
Tara's breathing had yet to return to normal, and she could feel the tightness of her yearning and desire building to a certain fever pitch. With eyes still closed, she shook her head softly, then dropped her forehead till it rested on Willow's chest. Willow. . . .
Still holding Tara tightly with one arm, Willow lifted her other hand, letting it rest on the blonde's shoulder. She swallowed hard, inhaling the sweet aroma of Tara's vanilla-scented hair. Yeah, real suave. . . .
"I don't care about that lamp," Tara said, her voice quiet and somewhat muffled by Willow's shirt.
"But. . . it's school property."
Tara slowly raised herself up, lifting her eyes until they once again found Willow's. With deliberate slowness, she slid her hand from where it held the redhead's breast, back up her throat and over her jaw, until it settled against her cheek. Her other hand came around to join its mate, palming Willow's other cheek softly. Tara looked deeply into Willow's eyes. "I. Don't. Care. About. That. Lamp."
"O. . ." Willow said, recognizing the absolute intensity in Tara's eyes. ". . .kay."
Tara moistened her lips, letting her eyes travel over Willow's features, drinking them in. Her thumbs began to trace gentle patterns over her skin. "Willow. . . ." Tara sought out the depths of green that swam before her. "Willow," she said again softly, "I. . . I want you so much." She held Willow's gaze, unblinking, then asked, "Do you-- is this, is this what you want?"
Willow swallowed hard, feeling the pounding of her heart rising in her ears. What I want. . . ? Is Tara what I want. . . ?Goddess, is she kid-- yes! Why would she even-- "I-I do. I-I it is." Spazmo! Tell her! "Oh, God, Tara, I want-- I want you, too, so much, too, it's. . . I. . ." she said, shifting slightly under Tara's gaze.
Tara tilted her head to the side, her eyes unwavering. Willow's stammering had not convinced her thoroughly. "Are you sure, Willow?" Tara asked, shaking her head softly, "cause if you're not--"
Willow swallowed. "I-- I just. . . ." Willow stopped, seemingly unable to finish her sentence.
Tara took a breath, savoring the smell of Willow's closeness, then let her hands softly glide from the redhead's face to her shoulders. Using her posted knee as leverage, Tara pushed herself up, bringing Willow with her; as soon as they stood upright before one another, Tara slid her hands down Willow's arms and pulled her into her embrace. "Willow."
Willow looked into Tara's eyes, so close and so blue, and felt her heart constrict. She leaned into the blonde, pushing her arms around the other woman tightly, bringing them closer together. Oh, Tara. . . .
Tara's worry for Willow quickly doused the fiery passion she had felt mere moments before. She rubbed her hands over the redhead's back in slow, comforting circles, unsure of Willow's thoughts or feelings. "Shh, Willow. It's okay, Sweetie, it's okay." She felt Willow shake her head against her neck, and held her tighter. "Willow, what is it?"
I'm an idiot-- a complete idiot-- that's what. Willow's fists clenched at Tara's shirt, pulling at the blonde almost desperately. When Tara's hands ceased their comforting circular motions and simply pressed tightly against her back, Willow trembled.
A tremble not lost on Tara. "Willow?" she asked, the silence too much to bear any longer. She loosened her arms, and after a second's hesitation, Willow followed. Tara pulled back, but did not release her entirely. She simply stared at Willow's bowed head and inwardly sighed. My Willow. "Will?"
Willow took a deep breath, trying to ease the tenseness in her chest. She raised her eyes to meet Tara's, finding herself at once lost in an ocean of blue. Tara. . . .
Tara raised a hand to Willow's cheek, pressing her palm against the soft flesh, feeling the warmth emanating through her skin. "Sweetie, please, what's wrong?"
Willow leaned into Tara's touch, and her heart sang anew when a smile tinged the corners of the blonde's lips. "I--" she started, but stopped just as quickly. She'll think I'm a dork. . . .
"You. . . what?" Tara's head tilted again as she spoke, as she searched Willow's face. "You can tell me anything, Will. You know that, right?" Willow blinked. "Anything, Willow."
Slowly, she nodded. "I-I know," she whispered.
"Then. . . ?"
Willow felt her tension rising. Just say it. . . Jesus, just. . . . "I-- I'm nervous," she said, her voice low, almost apologetic.
Tara released a breath, a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding; she smiled a bit more, her body relaxing against the redhead's. My Willow. . . my love. "I know," she said, nodding slowly as her thumb caressed the redhead's cheek. "I know."
Willow dropped her eyes from Tara's then, staring down at the floor between them. Tara tilted her head further, never releasing her hold on the redhead, simply waiting for her to continue. When at last she did, Willow's voice was so soft, Tara could barely hear her. "It's been a long time. . . ."
Tara's gentle ministrations continued as she processed Willow's words. It's been a long time. . . . It was true, they had not been together, not like this, not as lovers, not for a very, very long time. Willow's nervousness was understandable. But Tara wondered: why this uncertainty about it? Why this. . . embarassment? It was as if she hadn't-- Tara raised her head as a possible realization dawned. It's not just us, it's. . . . She hasn't-- not with anyone, not since. . . . Tara sighed, and moved her hand under Willow's chin, gently lifting the redhead's face to hers. "Me, too, Willow," she whispered, seeing the vulnerability, the fragility of the soul hidden behind green eyes. "For me, too."
Willow swallowed, tears welling in her eyes."Really?"
Tara leaned forward and pressed her lips to Willow's, softly, tenderly; then, she touched their foreheads together, closing her eyes against her own tears. "Only you, Willow." Tara took a deep breath, moving her other hand to cup Willow's cheek. "There's never been any. . . ." She shook her head softly, even as it still rested against Willow's. ". . .only you."
Willow felt her heart take flight. Only me. . . . "Oh," Willow said, her tears sliding from her eyes, silently cascading down her cheeks.
Tara opened her eyes; she pulled back to look into Willow's. Seeing the wetness on the redhead's cheeks, she smiled. She moved her thumbs gently over the rise of Willow's skin, smoothing the water across the redhead's soft flesh. I love this woman. Tara laughed softly.
Willow's eyebrows lifted. "You're laughing?"
"No," Tara said, shaking her head. A shake which moved into a small nod. "Well, yes, I am." Tara leaned forward and replaced her right thumb with her lips. "But not at you," she whispered after placing a tender kiss there. Repeating the process on the other cheek, she whispered softly against Willow's ear. "Never at you."
Tara's warm breath floating over her skin made Willow shiver. Ah. . . um. . . . She felt her body erupt with gooseflesh even as every nerve and fiber burned from within. "Oh," she finally managed. Willow felt Tara's smile against her cheek, one second before the blonde pulled back from her.
Tara's hands remained on Willow's face, her eyes pouring over the redhead's features, her smile slowly fading from her lips. Oh, Willow. . . . "You are so beautiful," she whispered.
Willow swallowed audibly, her mouth opening and closing several times as she tried to speak. I. . . uh. . . ah. . . . Tara shifted a thumb from where it rested on the redhead's cheek, letting it feather across Willow's upper lip several times before returning to its rightful place on the redhead's cheek. The touch somewhat eased the flustered feelings inside her, but Willow could still feel the erratic beat of her heart and celeritous pulsing of her blood. "Really. . . really nervous," she croaked, her voice quiet and strained.
Tara's head tipped to one side as she contemplated Willow's continued state of unease. It was obvious that her attempts to calm the redhead were destined to be checkmarks in the failure column. Okay, ix-nay on the sweet-talk. . . for now. And then, she had it. In a single moment of clarity, the answer came to her; Tara righted her head and looked into Willow's eyes for several more seconds. Of course. . . . Tara swayed forward slightly, closing her eyes and taking in a deep, sighing breath, inhaling everything that was Willow. She didn't hear, so much as feel, Willow's own breath catch slightly as she neared.
Willow's heart had continued its arythmic beat, increasing ever more so as Tara practically swooned into her. She silently chided herself for the semi-hysteric reaction. What must she think? I'm a total doofus.
Tara opened her eyes then, and as effortlessly as she had before, she moved away from the redhead. She let her hands glide softly down Willow's face, over the length of throat, over shoulders onto arms; she took a step back from Willow, cupping her hands around the redhead's arms even as they continued their gentle journey. . . . so simple. Another step away brought their hands together, hanging between them like an anchor, shoring each to the other.
Willow lowered her eyes to their joined hands, marveling at the beauty. The seeming fluidity of their limbs, flowing indistinctly into one another, no ending, no beginning. This is whe-- I belong right here, here in these hands. But then. . .
Tara released Willow's hands, taking a small step backwards. Willow's hands remained, hanging empty, as her eyes darted to Tara's; her brow furrowed as she started to speak. "Willow," Tara said, stopping the redhead before a word was spoken. She kept moving away, away from the redhead, backing across the room. As if by magic, she reached a hand out behind her, finding the door without so much as a glance; with two more small steps, she pressed her back to it until the soft click of its closing filled the room.
Willow's hands slowly lowered to her sides. Uh. . . .
CLICK!
The unmistakeable sound of the door locking was the next noise to fill the still-quiet room. Willow swallowed. . . . oh.
Tara casually pushed off of the door and smiled at the frozen figure across the room. Oh, Willow. She took a step then, and her eyes didn't fail to catch Willow's slight intake of breath at the movement. With fluid grace, Tara slowly travelled away from the redhead again, moving past her desk towards the far wall. She felt Willow's eyes following her every step, her every breath, her. . . everything. With her back to the redhead, she stopped in front of her dresser. "Do you remember. . . ?"
The question faded, open-ended, but Willow knew, on some level, that it wasn't meant to be finished. Not in the Strunk and White's grammatical kind of way. So she waited, silently, her eyes never leaving Tara, running up and down the Wiccan's figure nervously. Remember. . . ?
Tara opened the top drawer of the dresser, reaching both hands inside; she carefully pushed aside the clothes until she found exactly what she was looking for. She felt her smile grow wide, her heart pound uncontrollably. I remember. . . .
Willow watched as Tara lifted something from the drawer, then closed it with her elbows. Whatever the blonde had, she placed carefully on the dresser top; then, Tara's hands moved swiftly, making a brusk scratching sound, followed almost immediately by the smell of. . . sulfur?
Tara slowly turned around to face Willow, a candle held between both hands. Her eyes found Willow's and held them, a soft smile upon her lips. Unhurried, she took a deep breath and started for the redhead, her gaze unwavering. I remember. . . .
As Tara neared, Willow found her eyes drawn to the candle, the dancing orange-yellow flame weaving and snaking with each step. And, with each step closer, Willow felt her palms tingle more and more; she closed them tightly, only to open and press them against her jean-clad legs several times. Tara. . . what is. . . .
Tara stopped in front of Willow, her smile remaining on her lips as she watched the redhead. She said nothing, simply waiting for the memories to come -- hoping the memories would come. I remember. . . .
Willow's brow furrowed as she stared at the flickering flame. . . . what does she. . . .
Tara opened her hands until the candle sat perched in the palms of her hands; then, slowly, she pushed her hands out to Willow, a silent, radiant offering. Willow, do you remember. . . ? She didn't have to wait long, as she watched realization spill across Willow's features. The smoothing of her brow. The slight widening of her eyes. Lips softly opening. A tilt of the head.
Wait. . . . Willow raised her eyes from the candle, finding Tara's effortlessly. Their blue swam before her, clear and calm; she searched their depths for the answer she thought she knew, wanting -- needing -- to be assured of its correctness. As she watched those eyes fill with unshed tears, Willow found the truth.
Their truth.
Oh, Willow. . . you do remember.
A tremulous release of breath, something between sigh and whisper, escaped Willow as her eyes dropped to the flame once again. My. . . candle. . . . Tears blurred her own vision then, causing the orange-yellow flame to shimmer and spangle before her. Our. . . candle. . . . The candle moved closer again, raising up to her almost imperceptibly. Lips trembling, hands trembling, Willow reached out and encased the wax in her grasp, lifting it from where it sat on Tara's palms; the blonde's hands faded away, dropping to her sides with a soft rustling sound. Willow blinked, sending a silent tear to the floor between them.
In a flash, everything swirled around her, catching Willow up in a whirlwind of memory and emotion, spinning, rushing, crashing against her.
Oz had returned. Her first love. Oz. He had come back to her. . . for her. And with him, he had brought the fulfillment of her deepest wish, her innermost desire. He was cured. Oz. Was. Cured. But, even as she felt that this news should bring her nothing but the greatest joy she could ever know, Willow found herself falling apart. Her head, her heart, her soul, everything. . . just everything in her was splitting apart, pulling in two disparate directions. Oz. And. Tara.
Tara. The blonde Wiccan had come into her life as quietly and unannounced as her own personality would slowly reveal. But, over time, as it was revealed to her, what Tara revealed to her, was so much more than she ever dreamed of. Something she never expected, never thought possible. Tara loved her. And, much to her surprise, to her complete, utter surprise, she loved Tara. She loved her. She was in love with her. Feelings that she never thought she would experience again after Oz had left her, she now found with Tara. Again, but really, for the first time. A first true love. Her first true, true love. She couldn't imagine herself being happier. Then. . . Oz. And Tara. Tara, telling her she would always be there for her. Telling her she would always be her friend. Telling her to do whatever made her happy. But she didn't think she knew, what it was that made her happy.
And, as was always want to do, all Hellmouth broke loose around them. The Scoobies rescued Oz from The Initiative and plunged Sunnydale into temporary darkness. Sitting in Oz's van afterwards, talking with him, she discovered that she did know what it was that made her happy. Who made her happy. She had confessed to Buffy that everything going on was so complicated. Because. . . everything felt complicated.
But it wasn't. For the first time, everything was simple. Everything simply was. . . Tara.
Candle in hand, she had made her way to Tara's room, at last ready to declare her feelings, at last ready to be with Tara as they were meant to be. In darkness, Tara opened the door to her, resignation and defeat written across every feature, every gesture. With love filling every part of her, Willow had offered Tara the candle, had watched as the blonde took it in her hands with awe and reverence. And then, Willow had offered Tara something greater: all of her. All of her love. All of her heart and soul. In answer, Tara had blown out the flame, a smile upon her lips, a promise in her eyes, as darkness enveloped them.
. . . I remember. . . . Willow took a deep, shaky breath as the memories faded; she lifted her eyes from the candle as another tear slid down her cheek, finding wells of blue waiting for her. Willow swallowed hard, trying to push words past the lump in her throat. "Extra flamey," she finally said, her voice not much more than a broken whisper.
Tilting her head to take in the woman before her, Tara felt her love for Willow press on her heart like a vice. "Willow," she whispered, reaching up to catch the falling tear with her thumb. Letting her fingers drift over the soft planes of Willow's face for just a moment longer, she dropped her hand and stepped away from the redhead again.
But this time, she did not stray far. Only inches. Feeling the sides of the bed press against the backs of her legs, Tara lowered herself to the mattress, her eyes never leaving Willow's. With a calmness belying her own feelings of what was unfolding, she pushed herself onto the bed fully, her hands and legs propelling her across its width until she was on the far side. Once there, she lay on her left side facing Willow, watching Willow. Wordlessly, she slid her left hand across the comforter, offering it to Willow.
Offering everything to Willow.
Willow's heart surged as she followed Tara's every movement, as she watched Tara's hand reach out to her. Oh, God. . . Tara, God, I remember. . . I remember everything. And, just as the old memories had, Willow felt her fears fading, washing away in a clear, crystaline moment; her nervousness, her uncertainty, all of it gone, all of it unnecessary for this time and for this place and for. . . Tara.
She raised the flame to her lips, then hesitated suddenly, her eyes finding Tara's over the orange-yellow glow. A soft smile found its way to her mouth as she realized, in that instant, that she didn't need the darkness now. Not anymore. Not ever again. She had light back in her life. She had Tara back in her life. With a reverence she had witnessed only once before, Willow turned and placed the still-burning candle on the nightstand, her eyes remaining briefly before returning to Tara's.
As she felt Tara's hand close around hers, as she felt Tara's skin slide around hers, Willow knew that everything she had ever wanted, everything she would ever want, she would find-- here-- with this woman.
With Tara.
And she knew, it had been there the whole time.
All she had needed to do was reach out.
Just reach out.
TBC
Kris
"Frell that!"
Your devoted followers have been waiting to hear from you!
We all know you just can't keep them apart!!
long enough to honor us with an update!
!
at: 12/21/02 8:07:33 pm
Hey Kris!! 
Our supreme MOP!
Sooo glad to see you're back with this wonderful fic.
Oh, please tell us you are so going to finish the um..."interaction" between our girls???
Oh dad, you beat me to it! 
And thanks for the awesome update!