Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading! Early update, I couldn't wait till tomorrow!
• Title - The Wish of Three Hearts
• Author name – LonelyTara
• Email Address -
9kodama@gmail.com
• Rating - PG-13, eventually R
• Disclaimer - While filled with plenty of angst, tension, and grief, please know this will be a happy fic in the end. Not just because of the rules, but because I love W/T too much to mess a great thing up! Oh, and all this belongs to Joss Whedon et al, I'm just borrowing, please don't sue.
• Feedback-Please, please!
• Summary- Wave is an AU post season 7. It's been three years since Tara's death. Willow travels to the canyon that was once Sunnydale California to celebrate her lost love's birthday. Willow makes a wish, and everything changes...
• Notes-Thanks to everyone who will read. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all associated characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Fox, and many other powerful entities. I am just a visitor in this world—please don’t sue me.
Chapter Three
‘You have to leave me,’ Willow repeated, her jaw locked in pain. She could feel something coming, drawn to her darkness, her power.
Grey smoke boiled on the ceiling as Tara stared, horror-struck at her lover’s burning eyes. Willow was shaking like she was freezing to death, but her skin was almost blisteringly hot to the touch.
She’s afraid of me, Willow thought, and as she began to feel the spike of grief she felt it pulled away, down into the darkness rising in her chest. She should be.
“I am afraid,” Tara whispered, “Afraid for you, baby. Not of you.”
The cloud rolling across the ceiling of their bedroom thickened, spread, pulling light into itself until the room was dark as twilight in the middle of the day. A face appeared in the clinging mist, hollow-eyed, misshapen. Osiris.
“THERE IS NO DEATH HERE,” A roar, low like the grind of bone on bone, shook Willow and Tara in their bed. “WHY HAVE YOU SUMMONED ME, WITCH?”
“W-Willow?” Tara asked, voice quivering with fear.
“SPEAK!”
A tendril spun free of the hovering cloud and brushed Willow’s wrist. She shrieked in pain again and again, crying out against the scythe-sharp presence of the death god within her mind.
“BROKEN, WEAK. MOVED BY FORCES, NOT THE MOVER.”
The tendril wound up Willow’s arm, to her, neck, around her head, squeezing her like a vise.
“No,” Tara growled. “Stop hurting her.” She held up her hand and a flash of grass-green light flared.
Willow felt the death god release its hold on her, saw coils forming all around the room, descending toward Tara. ‘Tara, above you,’ Willow warned.
Her love looked up at the ceiling, saw the threat moving toward them. “Oh goddess,” Tara murmured. She held Willow against her chest and pushed off with her feet, sending them both spilling to the floor. The tendrils of the angered god thrashed above their heads. One snaked down and wrapped around Tara’s ankle.
Tara screamed in agony, dragged up into the air.
“TOUCHED BY DEATH, BUT UNDYING. RESTORED.”
“No,” Willow moaned, watching her lover dangling above her, crying out. The darkness in her pushed free. “No!” She screamed, and a funnel of energy struck out at the rolling, cloudy face above her.
The being recoiled and Tara dropped to the floor, whimpering. Willow choked and wretched. The power left the taste of ashes in her mouth.
“IMPUDENCE. DO NOT SUMMON ME FOR THE NEXT DEATH, WITCH.”
For the next death. Willow was gripped with terror. She’d saved Tara, but Buffy had still been shot. Her best friend was dying.
The pressure of the death god’s presence began to lift. His face faded, drawn into the rolling smoke on the ceiling. It faded from gray to white, dispersing into mist as light came streaming back into the room.
“Tara,” she croaked.
Tara lowered her shaking love to the ground. She felt a swell of relief when Willow looked up at her—the fire had faded from her eyes.
“There’s my beautiful green-eyed girl,” Tara murmured, a tear slipped down cheek even as she flashed a tiny half grin at her lover.
Willow tried to return the grin and felt a grimace stretch across her face. The darkness and rage was still a burning knot at her core, and it was growing.
“Are you all right?” Tara asked. “Is it o-over?”
“Help,” Willow said, struggling to speak. She could feel her strength draining as the dark magic rode through her bones, soon she would run dry. They had to help Buffy, but she couldn’t even send the thought now.
“Of course I’ll help you, baby,” Tara murmured. She stood and pulled a blanket off the bed, tucking it around Willow’s body. “I’ll get Buffy, we’ll get you help.”
Tara paused long enough to throw on a nightshirt and ran out of the room. Willow could hear her footsteps pounding down the staircase. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to sit up, to call out to her soul mate, but she couldn’t move, she couldn’t make a sound.
The living room of the Summers house was quiet. Tara crept through the room on the balls of her feet, ears straining for any sound of movement. She needed to find Buffy, but she wasn’t going to take a chance that she’d run into an armed Warren unprepared. She moved into the sitting room and found it empty; there was just a paper plate with three desiccated pizza crusts on the coffee table.
“Dawnie,” Tara murmured, and then gave out a little shriek as she tripped over a pair of the teen’s sneakers, stuffed with dirty socks. She caught herself on the arm of the old sofa, gasping for breath. Tara’s heart was pounding in her chest, protesting the steady diet of adrenaline she was providing. She couldn’t help reveling in it for a moment. Tara placed her hand against her heart. Keep beating. For me, for Willow.
The kitchen was as empty as the rooms Tara had already searched. She was just about to go down into the basement when she saw movement in the backyard. Xander was there, staring at something on the ground. Tara tugged self-consciously at the short nightshirt she was wearing, but her embarrassment wouldn’t keep her from getting help for Will.
“Xander, is he gone? Is Warren gone?” She asked softly, stepping out the door into the backyard. The paneling of the small deck was rough under her feet. “X-Xander,” she repeated, but he didn’t answer. She stepped onto the grass. “X-Xander, you have to help me, Willow—”
Xander turned to Tara, his face was gray, his mouth hanging slack. “Tara, I don’t know—I don’t know what to do.” His shirt was splattered with blood.
“Oh my, oh Xander,” Tara said, rushing toward him. “Are you hurt?”
He shook his head, and looked back to the ground. Tara followed his gaze. Buffy was lying at Xander’s feet, bleeding.
“Buffy!” Tara cried. She crouched down and pressed her hands against Buffy’s chest, trying to stop the blood that was seeping out of the slayer with each heartbeat. “Xander, I need you to go inside and get a towel, we have to put more pressure on this.”
Xander was staring down at them both, unblinking.
“You have to snap out of it!” Tara screamed. “Buffy and Willow need us, Xander.” Buffy shuddered beneath her hands, took in a shallow gasp of breath. Tara was desperate; she lashed out in the only way she could think of to break his haze.
“Don’t make me have Anya go all vengeance demon on your ass, Harris. Get moving, soldier!”
Xander blinked and stared at Tara liked she’d appeared out of thin air.
“I need towels Xander, as many as you can carry, she’s freezing. When you are done with that, go back inside, call 911, and then go and check on Willow.”
“Will?” Xander asked dully. “Did he shoot her—”
She didn’t have time to explain. “She hasn’t been shot, she-she’s sick. Now go get the damned towels.”
Xander turned and ran into the house. Buffy’s chest began to heave under Tara’s hands. She felt a dull lance of fear, but when she looked down, Buffy was actually grinning up at her. Tara realized she was trying to laugh, even as she bled out onto the grass.
“Ferocious Tara…makes another appearance,” Buffy gasped. “Scary.”
“Shush,” Tara soothed. “You’ll be all right, Buffy. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of both of you.”
Even as she said the words Tara could feel fear building inside her. Willow was in agony, Buffy was dying, if this was the price that had to be paid for her life, maybe it was too high.
“I got towels.” Xander was standing above her with towels piled to his chin.
“Give me one,” Tara replied. She held out her left hand, but kept the right pressed against Buffy’s wound. Xander handed her a thick white towel with shaking hands. Tara slipped it beneath her right hand and leaned against it with all her strength.
“Cover her legs and her stomach with the rest,” Tara told him, alarmed to see hints of red already spreading across the towel like hellish snowflakes. “Then 911, and then Willow. Can you do that, Xander?”
“911, and Will,” Xander murmured.
“Help’s on the way, Buffy,” Tara said gently. “You just have to hang in there for a little while. I’ll be right here with you.”
“Dawn,” Buffy murmured. There was a bluish tinge around her lips.
“Dawnie’s all right,” Tara said. “She’s safe, she’s at school. Warren didn’t hurt her.”
“Take, care of Dawn.” As Buffy said the words a tear slipped down her cheek. “You and Will, promise me, you’ll take care of her. You make her happy.”
“No, we’ll all take care of Dawn together,” Tara insisted. “She needs us all, all her family, together.”
Buffy didn’t answer her; she just stared up at the sky. Tara smacked her friend lightly on the cheek.
“Stay with me, Buffy, no wandering off. You can’t make Dawnie lose you again, I don’t think she could bear it.”
Buffy took a rattling breath and coughed, spraying Tara’s nightshirt with blood. “You hit me,” she murmured. “You hit the shot girl.”
“I’m so, s-sorry, Buffy. Please, don’t die.”
“Trying,” Buffy said. There were still no sirens pealing in the distance. Buffy’s eyes rolled back in her head.
“No, no,” Tara cried. “Keep your eyes open.” Fear and grief chilled her. If Buffy died, how would she tell Willow that her best friend was dead? Would Willow survive it?
The thought of losing her friend was terrifying, but at the thought of losing Willow Tara began to weep, hunched over Buffy’s body. Still holding the pressure against the tiny slayer’s chest, Tara sobbed, fighting the panic rising in her like a wave.
Tara’s swell of emotion cut Willow like a knife.
“Tara!” Willow screamed, curling up on the floor of their bedroom.
The dark magic pulsed in her chest, she could feel sources of power scattered throughout Sunnydale calling out to the shadow growing in her. The power was hungry, and she wasn’t enough to sate it. The shadow would seek out other magics to keep itself fed, and with every measure of power it took she would lose more of what made her Willow. And if she didn’t take that power, the darkness would pull from her, over and over, until she had nothing left to give.
But if she was going to keep Tara safe, to fulfill the terms of the Ter Sis Animi, Willow couldn’t give herself over to that force. She would do anything to keep Tara safe.
Even if meant that she would die.
“You’re mine,” Willow growled, focusing all of her strength on reconnecting to the power of the earth, pulling from that energy to fight the darkness rising in her chest. “My rage, my, pain, my power. You won’t control me.” There was a power, a painful burning friction roaring through her where earth magic touched darkness. “I will go to her.”
Willow let out a low groan of pain as her body lifted up off of the floor. She levitated toward the bed and struggled to pull on the pale green chemise hanging off the foot of the bed. In the end she took energy from her connection to the earth to move her arms, her hands, to slide the light cloth over her body. Each movement as she warped the power to her will was like her bones were blades, cutting her flesh from the inside.
She floated out into the hall and found herself face to face with Xander.
When he saw Willow his mouth fell open. “Will,” he said hoarsely. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Where is Tara?” She started to float past but Xander grabbed her arm.
“Willow, you don’t want her to see you like this. You lost her once because of dark magic, don’t do it again.”
She didn’t have time for this. “Where is Tara, Xander?”
“Will, what happened to you?” He shuddered under the glare of his friend’s strange eyes. “She’s downstairs, in the back. She-she’s with Buffy.”
“Buffy’s still alive?”
“How did you—” Xander shook his head. “She was when I came up here to find you. Tara’s taking care of her.” Xander’s eyes widened and he grabbed Willow’s shoulders. “Tara said you were sick, is that what this is, you’re sick?”
“Yes.” Willow replied in a whisper. She felt hot tears spill down her cheeks. “There’s something wrong, but I can still help them, I can still save Buffy.”
Xander released her arms and followed Willow down the staircase.
“Tara told me to call 911,” Xander told her when they walked into the kitchen. He stared at the floor so he wouldn’t have to see Willow’s face.
Willow nodded. “Do what you have to do.” She pulled open the door and floated out onto the deck.
The sight of Tara safe, alive, sent a way of joy through her. It pierced the darkness moving through her and she dropped to her hands and knees on the deck, her arms and legs left shaking.
“Willow?” Tara cried, still pressing the white towel to Buffy’s chest. “Will, are you all right? Where’s Xander?”
“I’m okay, baby.” Willow lied. She could feel herself weakening; the call of the dark powers throughout Sunnydale was becoming stronger. “Xander is calling 911, but we won’t need them.”
“We needed them five minutes ago,” Tara replied. “I don’t know how much longer she can hold on.”
“It’ll be all right, Tara,” Willow promised. She struggled to her feet and tottered toward her true love, toward her fallen friend. “I can help her.”
“Willow, no,” Tara protested. Her lover’s eyes were strange, like mother-of-pearl swirled with ink, black as pitch. “You can’t use dark magic, not even for this. Buffy wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself. I don’t want you to do this to yourself.”
“She’s dying, Tara. I have to help her.” She dropped to her knees next to Tara and laid her hands on top of her beloved’s, adding her pressure to help staunch Buffy’s loss of blood. She wanted to explain that she wouldn’t pull from dark magics, that she was fighting it, but couldn't find the words. “I promised that I would undo all the wrongs that I did—” Willow paused, she could feel her pulse quicken with shame and fear. “That I did after you died.”
“Willow—”
“I hurt so many people, Tara.” Willow whispered, crying again. She was amazed she had tears left to weep. “Please, I have to save Buffy.” Willow looked into her lover’s eyes expecting Tara to flinch, or to look away like Xander had, but Tara’s beautiful steely-blue gaze was unflinching.
“You can’t save her like this, Willow.”
“I saved her before,” Willow insisted. “I can do it again. I can suppress the darkness.”
Tara took her lover’s hand and pressed it against her chest. “I’m here, let me help you. Together, we can save her, the light can save her.” Her face was perfect, impassive, but a tear slipped down her cheek.
Willow just stared at Tara for a moment, but then, to Tara’s great relief, the ebony and pearl faded from her lover’s eyes. Willow was flooded by the warmth and love she could feel pulsing through Tara’s touch. The darkness within her retreated, but she could feel it lurking, waiting for her weakness, for her wrath.
“I know we can,” Willow whispered in reply. “I love you, Tara Maclay.”
“And I love you, Willow Rosenberg.”
Willow looked into her lover’s eyes, allowed herself just an instant to rejoice that they were together again. “Tara, how are we going to cast this?” She asked softly. “I don’t have anything here, no more safety net, remember?”
She nodded. “I remember. We just need one thing Will; I hope you kept it. The doll’s eye crystal.”
Willow’s eyes widened, there was a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. “Of course I kept it, it was your grandmother’s. And the first gift you ever gave me.” Her ghost of a smile faltered, leaving behind a look of guilt and sadness.
My poor Willow, Tara thought, we’ll make this better, baby.
“Tara,” Willow continued. “I don’t know where it is. I wanted to be sure I wouldn’t be tempted to use it, so I asked Buffy to hide it.
Tara closed her eyes. The slayer knew so many parts of the city, little nooks, crannies and crypts, spaces that no other human would stray into. The stone could be anywhere, and every second they waited to cast the spell brought Buffy closer to death. Tara felt Willow’s hand squeeze hers and Tara opened her eyes.
“It’s in the house somewhere, baby. I asked Buffy to hide it here so—” she paused, and Tara could see her deciding whether or not to go on. “So I could have something of you near me.”
Sadness for her lover’s pain and regret for the time they spent apart warred with her gratitude that Willow had been strong enough to ask that the crystal be kept close by, but safe from her temptation.
“We’ll find it, Willow,” Tara replied, brushing her thumb over Willow’s knuckles. “Xander,” she called. There was no movement in the house. “Xander!” She cried again, this time Willow added her voice to the call.
Xander came running out of the kitchen, still pale. “The ambulance isn’t here yet,” he said, wringing his hands. “Is she—”
“She’s unconscious, but she’s alive,” Tara said. “We’re going to help her Xander, but first I need you to help me.”
He crept cautiously across the yard and then sat back on his heels between the young witches.
“What can I do?” Xander whispered.
“I need you to find something for me, something that you probably won’t be able to see.”
Xander’s brow crinkled with confusion. “Tara, I have to admit, I don’t get it.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to. Just trust me. I’m going to bless your eyes, so you can find what we need.” She paused, trying to smile at him to calm his fears. “Come here,” she said.
Xander leaned closer to Tara and she shifted toward him too, until their faces were inches apart.
“Close your eyes,” she whispered.
Xander closed his eyes as he’d been told, and Tara placed a soft, feather-light kiss on each of his eyelids.
“Aradia, make the blinded see, send a path, guide to our key. Blessed be his sight, so we implore, obeisance to you evermore.”
“Hey,” Willow said softly. “Nobody said anything about my girlfriend kissing my best friend.”
Tara nodded at Willow, moved by her attempt to find laughter even in such a dark moment. “Willow, it was just eyelids,” she teased.
“But look at his face,” she pouted.
Xander was staring around the yard with a goofy grin plastered to his face. “Well you do have impressively soft lips, Tara,” he joked.
“Hey!” Willow cried again.
“Easy, Will. I’m smiling because it worked. There’s some kind of green squiggly smoke thing going into the house.”
“Follow it Xander,” Tara said firmly. “And hurry, she’s almost out of time.”
Xander nodded and fled into the house.
“Hold on, Buffy,” Willow murmured. A tear dripped down her chin onto the pink stain spreading across the white towel pressed to her best friend’s chest. “Just a little while longer.”
Xander ran back into the Summers’ kitchen and swore beneath his breath. The path that was so clear outside was less distinct here, fragmented in several directions. He took the stairs down into the basement only to find that the path curled back in upon itself. He followed the trail back up into the kitchen and then moved into the living room. He could see the path wind around a few pieces of furniture, but then it went upstairs.
Xander moved up the staircase in a sprint, taking two steps at a time, and then followed the path down the hall into Buffy’s room. He knew immediately that he’d found the right place, finally. Buffy’s whole bed had a green haze around it. Xander felt tears welling in his eyes as he realized that the trail he’d followed must’ve been Buffy wandering all over the house trying to find the safest place for the crystal, the final decision, of course, had been where she could guard it.
“Oh Buff,” Xander whispered.
The glow was brightest around the bottom of the bed, so Xander dropped to his stomach. When he lifted the bedspread to look underneath he saw a small box. He pulled it out into the light. The box was glowing green. The object he needed was in a plain cardboard box that had the word WISHES written across it in Buffy’s slanted script.
“Hopefully me helping to save your life will override me going through your stuff,” Xander murmured as he opened the box. “Otherwise Xander is going to be a very broken boy.”
As soon as Xander saw the contents of the box a sob rocked his frame. The box was full of pictures of her family, when they were happy. Giles, waving. Joyce, with her arms around Buffy and Dawn. Willow and Tara looking adoringly at one another, oblivious to the bustle of the Magic Box all around them. Anya, dozing off in Xander’s lap on one of the rare Scooby movie nights.
There was a message on the inside of the box lid, a hope that Buffy had sent out to the universe: Let my family find their way back to each other, to their happiness again. Let us remember those we’ve lost with love, and live on together. Nestled in the middle of the pictures was a large rose-colored crystal, surrounded by a green glow.
Xander was still crying when he made his way back downstairs with the crystal in hand, out to where Tara and Willow were waiting for him so they could save Buffy’s life.
We’ll make it right, Buff. Xander thought as he handed the crystal to Tara without a word. Willow and Tara found their way back to each other, the rest of us can be happy too.
“Are you ready?” Tara asked.
Willow nodded, but Tara could see the exhaustion in her face. She was so pale; the shadows under her eyes were dark as bruises.
“Xander, we’ll need you to keep the pressure on the wound while we cast,”
Tara’s voice shook a bit as she spoke. The sun was so bright, and she could hear birds singing. It didn’t seem like such beauty and such pain should be able to exist in the same world.
“But when I tell you,” she continued. “You have to move the towel. Understand?”
“Yes.” Xander nodded, staring down at where their hands held the towel against Buffy’s chest. Yes.”
Tara and Willow lifted their hands from the towel and Xander was right there, reaching in to staunch the blood flow. Tara pressed Willow’s hands against the crystal and then covered Willow’s hands with her own.
“Together, Will, okay?” Tara sent thoughts of joy and love through her warm touch. She was happy to see a bit of color return to Willow’s cheeks.
“Okay, Tara.” Her voice was a weak whisper, but she still found a smile for her love.
“Per vox dea,” Tara said, Willow’s voice a softer, higher echo. “Per lux lucis orbis terrarum quod divum, permissum mulier existo vigoratus.” By the power of the goddess, by the light of the earth and sky, let this woman be healed. They repeated the chant over Buffy’s body three times, felt the crystal glowing warm under their hands. Willow could feel the frayed edges where her essence held a fragile connection to the earth, struggling against the darkness at her core. The world swam in and out of focus.
“Magnes, duco sicco!” Tara and Willow called out together as the crystal burned hot beneath their hands. Magnet, draw it out. “Move it now Xander,” Tara cried.
He pulled the towel away and watch blood pool up from the wound on Buffy’s chest. The crystal was white in Tara and Willow’s hands. Blood welled again as Buffy took a breath, and then a tiny wad of metal slid from her flesh and moved slowly through the air, up toward the crystal.
Xander grabbed the bullet as it floated past his face. “It’s so small,” he murmured.
Willow’s head snapped up, startled to hear the words she’d spoken in another life echoed from his lips.
“Willow,” Tara murmured, gently guiding her lover back to their casting.
“Per vox o tre, matris, virgo, altus, permissum tre vicis tre dies curatio obduco.” By the power of three, maiden, mother, and crone, let three times three days healing pass here. Again the spell was spoken three times. On the third round of the chant the crystal turned to liquid in their hands, sliding down into the wound on Buffy’s chest. As it moved to fill the hole the bullet had torn in the slayer, blood was drawn back into Buffy’s body, staining the clear fluid pink. The last traces of blood disappeared from her skin and all that was left behind was an angry puckered circle, purple-red, just above her breast. Buffy took in a great gasping breath.
“Nine days of slayer healing,” Willow murmured happily. She looked at Tara and squeezed her hands gently. “Thank you, Tara, for saving her.”
Before Tara could reply, Willow’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she went limp. Tara’s firm grip was the only thing that kept her from hitting her head on the ground.
“Willow, no!” Tara moaned, pulling her lover to her. Willow was so light, so cold. The bones of her face stood out in sharp relief under her skin. “Will,” Tara said, barely audible above wind moving through the trees. “Please baby, wake up. Come back to me.” She pressed her lips against Willow’s forehead. “I love you, always, no matter what. Just wake up, and I’ll take care of everything. I promise.”
“What’s wrong?” Buffy groaned, stirring on the ground. “Tara, what’s happening?”
“Buffy!” Xander pulled the slayer upright into a gentle embrace. “Thank you, god. You okay?”
“Besides feeling like a rhino tried to cuddle me and gored me with his horn,” Buffy groaned, rubbing her aching chest. “What happened? What’s wrong with Will?”
“Warren shot you, Buff,” Xander replied. His voice was low, solemn. “Will and Tara saved you.” He opened his hand and Buffy took the bullet fragment between her thumb and forefinger.
“Jesus,” she whispered. “Thank you, Tara, thank you.” Buffy’s brow furrowed, watching Willow curled against Tara’s chest. Her face was slack, her breathing quick and shallow. “So is this, is this my fault?” She took Willow’s hand and gasped, it was ice-cold.
“N-no,” Tara replied. She pulled Willow closer. “It was a powerful light-based spell and—” Tara’s voice broke and she started to cry silently. She pressed her forehead to Willow’s murmuring, “Wake up baby, wake up,” over and over.
“She’s sick, Buff,” Xander said. “Tara says she’s sick.”
Tara didn’t look up at them; she just stroked her lover’s face.
“She is sick, right?” Xander asked again, growing more insistent. “That’s why she went all scary floating weird-eyes Willow?”
“Tara?” Buffy asked gently, laying her hand on the blonde witch’s arm.
She looked up at Buffy and Xander, her eyes filled with tears, her face haunted in a way Buffy hadn’t seen since they day they helped to free her from her abusive father and brother.
“S-something ha-ha-happened,” Tara stammered, giving a little sob. “W-Willow, she, she s-said—” Tara shook her head; tears were streaming down her face.
Buffy reached down and took Tara by the hand. “Tara, it’s all right. We won’t let anything happen to Will. Take a breath, and try again.”
Tara nodded once, taking a long inhale, and then slowly letting it out. “When w-we woke up this morning,” she said, staring down at Willow. “Will was acting odd, a little c-confused.”
Xander opened his mouth to ask another question but Buffy shook her head, she could see that Tara was trembling, tears still welling in her eyes. They had to find out what happened before she broke down completely.
“She seemed shocked to find me next to her. At first I thought it was b-b-b,” Tara sighed and a tear slipped down her cheek.
“Because,” Buffy said quietly.
Tara nodded, “Of, the t-time we were apart. But then, when I s-suggested we get up for breakfast, she got, r-really hysterical. Just c-crying and crying. S-she, she wouldn’t tell me what was w-wrong,” Tara said earnestly, looking up at Xander and Buffy. “B-but she promised s-she would explain when she c-calmed down.” Tara reached down a stroked a lock of hair from Willow’s face. “That’s was w-w-when W-Warren shot at you, one of the shots smashed our window.”
“Oh God,” Buffy said, “But neither of you—”
“It h-hit the wall, by the door,” Tara replied. Her face was pale and her lower lip trembled. “But there was this terrible burning in my chest.”
“Did you get hit by shrapnel?” Xander asked.
Tara smiled weakly at Xander’s holdover soldier memories. “There’s not a s-scratch on me. But W-Willow was so scared.” Tara paused. “S-she knew that bullet was going to come in the w-window. She s-saved me from getting shot.”
“But Tara,” Buffy asked, “How did she know?”
Xander sighed and rubbed his hand on Buffy’s back. “She’s relapsing Buff. That’s what you meant, isn’t it Tara? She’s sick. She’s using again.”
“No,” Tara insisted. “S-she’s not. I’m n-n-not, I’m not explaining it r-r-right.”
“Breathe, Tara” Buffy reminded her.
Tara nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. She watched them, her sky blue eyes gone gray. “I died.”
The words slipped out of her so easily, just as they’d repeated in her mind. Buffy and Xander stared, mouths open, eyes wide.
“I died, but now I'm back. Willow saved me.”
The wind kicked up around them, set the leaves rustling in the trees, the branches creaking. Tara could feel grass tickling against her ankle, teased by the wind. The earth hummed through her bones, and she sent all it had to give her into Willow, praying that her love would wake up, like a princess in a fairytale. That all would be made well.
“Willow,” Buffy began. Tara could see the fear and doubt blooming in the young slayer’s face.
“It w-wasn’t dark magic,” Tara said, rocking Willow gently.
“Then how?” Xander asked.
“Willow told me about a rite, a wish, she c-called it Ter Sis Animi. It brought her b-back, so she could save me.”
“Brought her back?” Buffy’s brow was furrowed.
“Three years,” Tara murmured, staring down at Willow. She was so pale. “I was d-dead for three years.”
The confusion was so clear in their faces. Tara told them what she’d seen in Willow’s mind, the vision of her own mother, of Willow holding her body and weeping.
“She couldn’t tell me much,” Tara whispered, fighting and failing to hold back a sob. “She was in such pain. All I know is, to bring me back, Willow agreed to pay a price. To repay the debt of the things she did…after I died. And I’m s-so afraid.”
Tara began to weep, a high, keening sound of grief that broke Buffy and Xander’s hearts. They looked at each other solemnly; it was only too easy to imagine the kind of havoc Willow would’ve wreaked if anything happened to Tara.
“I’m so afraid,” Tara gasped. “That I’ll lose her, it’s too h-high a price,” she sobbed. “Too high. I don’t want to live if she dies.”
Buffy rubbed Tara’s back softly with her free hand. “We won’t let that happen. We just have to find out more about this Terror Sis Anime thing, so we can help her.”
“Ter Sis Animi, Buff,” Xander murmured.
“Right, that. Tara,” Buffy said, squeezing her friend’s hand gently until the girl met her eyes. “We’ll help her. It’ll be okay.”
“T-thank you.”
“We should take her to the Magic Box,” Xander said, standing. “There’s bound to be some information on this thing in some of Giles’ books.”
Tara nodded.
“Let’s get her to the car,” Buffy said softly.
Tara allowed the slayer to lift Willow out of her arms, but kept her lover’s hand held tightly in her own. Stay with me. She thought to Willow. Please. Even unconscious, Tara could feel waves of fear coming from her soul mate. Tara sent waves of calm to her, of peace. Tara didn’t, couldn’t understand that Willow’s fear was rising because she could hear them, because she knew that they were taking her to the Magic Box, one of the strongest sources of dark magic in Sunnydale.