)Fragments of Perception
Disclaimer: Many rich people own BTVS and its characters...I am not one of them.
Summary: What happens when you lose yourself? (Altered timeline starting near the end of 'The Gift').
Rating: R
Feedback: Feel free to drop a line here. No posting this story elsewhere without my consent.
Part 5: Revealed, Renewed, and Realized
A witch. Everything pointed to it, I guess, but it was still pretty unbelievable.
The only thing more unbelievable would be living in a town that sits upon a gateway to hell that is protected by one chosen girl in the world (except there are two because she died once) who has super strength and healing powers. Oh, wait…apparently that’s true as well.
Now, I knew there were secrets. I just didn’t expect them to be world altering, change everything you thought you understood kind of ones. Informational and conceptual overload came at no additional charge with each story.
What a cast of characters we made. Buffy the superhero, Dawn the key, Giles the watcher, Spike the vampire, Anya the 1200-year-old ex-vengeance demon, and Tara and I were the witches. Xander was just Xander…not being larger then life must be hard for him with this group.
Glory. The name made me seethe. This woman…no monstrosity, stole Tara’s sanity. I didn’t understand exactly what that meant other than it made her like a vegetable in an otherwise normally functioning body. She didn’t elaborate beyond that, probably because the wound was too fresh. This hellgod tried to kill all of us…set to drain Dawn’s blood dry. I was glad to hear that this faceless horror was dead…glad and not even a tiny bit remorseful.
She told me my part that night…now I was a superhero. I saved her…I saved the world – big actions for such small shoulders. I don’t feel very strong or very brave anymore…I wonder where that woman is?
I began to get tired and cold a couple of hours into our impromptu chatting session. Miss Kitty, as I now knew her, had snuggled into a quiet nap earlier. I thought she had a good idea…I wanted to curl into some warm and fluffy bedding myself.
“Can we…” I yawned heavily, “maybe call it a night?” Tara nodded and stood, taking the sleepy kitty from my hands so I could follow her lead. Her little furry head lifted upwards, perturbed at the change in positioning.
“I don’t want to go to Buffy’s.” The statement was out of mouth before I thought about restraining it. “I mean I can’t stay there tonight…I just need some space away. Not from you but…can we go somewhere else?” I added in a rush. “My parent’s house, maybe?”
The beginnings of a frown creased her forehead. There was a line in the dirt, between Buffy and I, and she didn’t want to choose sides. I felt bad for making her but I didn’t draw this line and I wasn’t sure how to erase it away. Or if I even wanted to.
She took my hand, ready to follow where I led. We stopped at a convenience store and picked up some kibble for Miss Kitty. Arriving at my very sanitary childhood home, I knew that we didn’t belong here but it seemed the path of less animosity for the night.
Tara placed a call to Buffy to say we were okay and staying here while I showered. I stayed under the spray for a long time, until it went lukewarm, assessing everything.
I don’t know if I can be that Willow…the witch, the hero. I don’t want to save the world…I only want to rediscover it…find some joy in it. What happens if I can’t be the person I was?
-------------------------------------------
Anya arrived on the doorstep early the next morning, toting drinks, food, and an amazingly bright demeanor.
“Greetings lesbians. I’ve brought disgustingly healthy herbal smoothies for your breakfast pleasure. Oh, and colon cleansing carrot and bran muffins.” She shook the bag. “These are what you wanted, Tara?”
The blonde nodded and invited her in…Willow recognized that this was a setup.
Willow peered at Anya’s face through bleary eyes, sniffing the air and smelling the waif of steaming mocha goodness in the cup the bottle blonde was sipping. She began bemoaning the fact that she gave away her dietary rights (and therefore caffeine!) when she agreed to eat healthier under her breath. Tara raised a knowing eyebrow.
“Yum,” the redhead murmured as she sulkingly sat at the breakfast bar and took the lid off the smoothie cup. She gave it a sniff, strawberry, and then a taste. It actually wasn’t that bad…but it was no mocha. She pinched at the muffin; it was moist and more flavorful than she thought. Especially considering it came from a bag that said ‘Sunnydale Organic Food Shop’, which sounded like a place they wouldn’t protect if demons ran amok in town and began setting businesses on fire. She pushed out her lip in a pout and looked forlornly at Anya’s cup once more.
“Absolutely not,” Tara said as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“When did she get so butch?” Anya murmured, mostly to herself, as she pulled out a chocolate doughnut from a different bag, one with the logo of a jolly fat ethnic baker. Now that looked like a place to protect with life and limb, Willow thought with a sigh. The redhead frowned at the pastry and realized the error of letting Tara orchestrate her recovery plan. Tara had read through the doctor suggestions last night and now she was actually going to have to eat healthy. No exceptions.
This really was a hellmouth wasn’t it?
-------------------------------------------
A week passed and I spent most of my time in limited action, exercise came in the form of morning walks in the park with Tara. We walked arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder, and talked of trivial things…life did not press on us so hard when we spent it within the confines of each other.
Despite my initial protests, Tara’s TLC plan was actually working. The rest and well-rounded meals (there were desserts!…just no mochas) did probably help me feel better. There had been no icky nosebleeds or dizziness in the interim, a fact that I was more than happy to let her take credit for.
Xander had moved our stuff into my parent’s once we decided not to immediately move back into Buffy’s and I spent a little time reconnecting with him.
He knew more about younger me than anyone, since he was the only one actually around at that time. We had played doctor, except it had been me with a Gray’s Anatomy book giving him diseases and finding cures, not the more common naughty version of that game. His stories were like the coloring book version of my memories – the pictures seemed to belong to me but someone else had colored in all the details. I was pleased that the tide had turned us toward each other, he was a really nice guy even if he was a bit too interested in how Tara and I were doing.
Anya stopped over frequently too…particularly when I offered to help her look through bridal books for wedding ideas. I was really happy I talked her out of the traditional blood larvae and burlap.
When Giles finally called early one day to discuss attuning a demon locator spell and Tara offered to help him research, I knew that we would have to face that part of our lives more directly soon. I didn’t want her in danger…I don’t how I would get through this is she got hurt again. Or worse.
And I still hadn’t talked to Buffy…Tara had become my buffer in all matters related to the slayer.
So, that afternoon while Tara was sifting through boxes of books (I told her to stay upstairs), I called Xander and got him to bring over a few grocery bags worth of surprises.
Luckily, I wasn’t as bad of a chef as I thought I might be. Takeout seemed to be a favorite of mine, or I judged to be, considering when I walked through downtown the man at the China Boat Express waived to me like I was his daughter.
Still the meal was simple – spaghetti, garlic bread, salad, sorbet, and grape juice, since wine was on the restricted list. I found good china in a hutch in the dining room and served up everything like it was a holiday. I lit some candles and found some low-key jazz among the cds in the living room. It looked downright cozy…intimate even. My stomach began to twist and turn…I meant this more as a ‘thank you’ rather than a…my heart found the beat of a scared little samba.
“Can I come down yet? I’m finished.” Tara asked from the stairwell.
“Yeah,” I squeaked, startled by the pitch of my own voice.
Her eyes lit up when she entered the dining room, the candlelight casting warm shadows on her face. “Oh, Willow…this is wonderful,” she said with such appreciation that it astounded me.
Then, I knew that I was worrying too much. She would take what I could give her…even if she deserved so much more.
I sat down much more relaxed and we had the easiest flowing conversation imaginable. Any doubts I had of what her expectation of me might be after this rather unintentionally romantic meal were wiped away instantly. Everytime I think I begin to understand the limits of this woman, she resets the boundaries.
“You just have…” I started, motioning at her cheek. Spaghetti is in the top five messiest foods no matter how carefully you eat.
“What?” she asked.
I mustered up all the courage I could.
I moved towards her, moving to within centimeters of her lips. I brushed the errant sauce away.
“Willow?” Tara processed the new position with some confusion and a gulp.
She tried to pull away, but I prevented it by kissing her hard, smooshing our lips together. I didn’t think this was terribly romantic and not how I would have planned. I should have planned…but when I pulled back and saw Tara’s goofy grin, I didn’t worry too much about it anymore. I think I had a matching grin of my own plastered on my face.
“Did you like dinner?” I asked, a smug delighted tone creeping into my voice.
“Very much,” she replied, still residing in some dazed suburb of contentville.
-------------------------------------------
That night, tranquility was broken by small helpless noises.
Tara’s breath was fast and uneven, her voice keened and whimpered. She was having a nightmare…I now knew what woke her at night, but that didn’t cure it.
“Noooooo,” she pleaded as I squeezed her arm, trying to snatch her away from the terror holding her down.
She woke with a start and buried her face into my shoulder. I gathered her into my arms and murmured, “Baby it’s okay.” She desperately shifted closer and I held her harder, whispering those three words like a mantra. After about ten times or so I think my words had some effect because her breathing slowed. I lifted her head and looked deep into those eyes…the torment so horribly striking against the loveliness of her blue irises.
I lightly kissed her forehead, her nose, and her cheeks. When I met her warm, soft lips, I felt her respond and press back with a sudden vigor. Her tongue slashed at my lips, parting them with ease and she entered my mouth with a conquering force. I went slackjawed in surprise.
She drowned me with her passion…so bottled up it had been that it burst forth in a rush. She pushed me flat on my back against the bed and delved deeper in to my mouth, no need for exploration because she knew the topography. I moaned as I felt her good hand tangle through my hair and land at the nape of my neck.
I realized that there was more than passion locked behind her actions. I felt her panic…her fear. I lifted her face from mine once more to look at her…what I saw…well, if I had anything to with it, no one would ever hurt this woman again.
“Tara?” I asked as my eyes stung.
Confusion seemed to wash over her and then she whispered, “Am I really here?” Her words pierced through my heart.
“You’re here…you’re safe. She’s gone and she’s not coming back. She’s gone.” I said anything I thought might bring her comfort. At that moment I would have done anything to bring her comfort. I think she realized it too because she abruptly sat up and huddled to the other side of the bed.
“I’m s-so sorry,” she pleaded, on the verge of a panic not induced by that monster. “I, I n-never would have…” taken advantage of you like that, her tears spoke as they slid down her face.
“I know, Tara, I know,” I replied but she had already grabbed her pillow and was halfway to leaving the room, most likely to bed on the couch. “Don’t go.”
She turned around with a question on her face.
“Don’t go…because you need me tonight and because I need you too. I…” love you, I suddenly thought but could not voice. Not this way…when it would seem forced and weighted. “We’re fine.”
Tara approached tentatively and brushed the back of her hand against my cheek tenderly, her skin voicing the exact same thing floating in my mind. Love.
“Come here,” I urged and she crawled back into bed. She rested her head on my shoulder and I held her as she fell back into slumber. There were no more nightmares…just one woman with an endless depth of love for me gaining peace in my arms.
I watched over her and later kissed away the twitches of a bad dream on her brow, realizing that our love went both ways. And the more I saw of it, the more I wanted all of it back.
When I'm sitting here with you, I don't even think about the slime people.
~The very romantic lead in The Slime People (1962)
Altered ShadowsEdited by: hermitfish at: 2/22/05 10:14 am
and then with the colon cleansing breakfasty goodness and Willow being able to find the hero inside herself when it came to an eating establishment that served fried dough. 
that was too funny. 
But not in the scary way....just in the sleepy way. 
(just tryin' to help....)
Great job.
in honor of the occasion, i have just used my first emoticon other than the basic smiley (i don't have a lot of self control and i think i could easily succumb to emoticon abuse). anyway, really loving this b-day tradition of the gift giving, i guess there's a little bit of the hobbit in with your fish, good for us!
Anya was priceless! Great update.