TITLE: Donegal Street
AUTHOR: Wayland
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Willow, Tara and any other characters from the Buffy the Vampire Slayer franchise belong to Joss Whedon, FOX and ME.
SPOILERS: Up to and including Season Six.
SUMMARY: Tara left Willow after Tabula Rasa. It is now about a year later.
FEEDBACK: I would be grateful for your comments.
NOTES: Thanks to my beta, Vivienne, for the encouragement I needed to get this far.
Chapter 2
Tara slammed shut
The Collected Works of Lord Byron. Trying to study had been a ridiculous idea. She dropped the heavy volume onto the floor by her bed. Only a deeply ingrained reverence for books prevented her from throwing it across the room. That and the fact that it was just before 5am and she didn’t want to wake the house. Drawing attention to herself in that way was a thought that made her shudder. One of her roommates had actually tapped on her door at dinner time, asking softly if she was ok. She had pretended not to hear. She still felt guilty about that. Feeling guilty seemed to reignite her anger. It was unfair of Willow to turn up with no warning, completely unfair. Especially here. This place was…was what exactly? Her sanctuary, her bolthole? Tara stared at the blank wall above her desk.
She looked pale…I didn’t offer her coffee, or even ask her to sit down...but she was gone so quickly…was she thinner? Her face seemed a little thinner.Tara slumped back onto her bed, rubbing her eyes. They felt gritty. She had been doing this all night - bouncing between a dozen different emotions, some of which she could barely even name. If only she hadn’t been so
unprepared.A memory itched at the back of her brain. Sitting in her dorm room in the dark, waiting for Willow. She had known that Willow would come and that Willow would tell her about Oz. And Tara had been ready, her reaction rehearsed, her speech prepared. In some ways that particular speech had been ready all her life. Because Willow had been a dream. Being
with Willow was beyond a dream, something she literally could not imagine. Even in her fantasies, the Tara she pictured was far removed from the woman she saw in the mirror. So, she had rewritten Willow’s every word, reinterpreted her every action until the previous weeks had been a passing phase for the woman she loved, a period of consolation before her return to the real world. Alone in that dorm room she had crumbled the substance of their time together into dust, and waited for Willow to say goodbye.
And then Oz was gone, and Willow had declared herself. To Tara, and to her friends. And Tara still waited. She had good reason, certainly. It was a brief reprieve, not a future.
Then her father had come. And gone. Leaving no trace behind.
One blow had shattered her. One casual blow. She was undone, completely. And remade. And that was good. They were good. As it should be. Willow and Tara. Together. For weeks and months and years. A couple. Partners. Parents even, after a fashion. It was going to be forever.
Tara twisted in the bed. The early morning light revealed tape marks and a ghostly rectangle on the blank wall.
Did I ever really stop waiting?She felt her forehead prickle with a chill sweat.
Did I ever believe in us? ************
Instinct told her that the alarm clock had been ringing for some time. Tara struggled out of the bedcovers which were twisted around her body and slammed it into silence. She rubbed one hand over her face and traced the creases her pillow had imprinted on her cheek. Her head felt heavy and her body ached. But even after so little sleep, she knew her thinking was clearer. Last night she had been overwrought. Nothing terrible had happened. Willow had caught her by surprise and she had been less friendly than she’d intended. That was all. There was no need to be melodramatic about it. It was just like her grandma used to say, ‘Too much thinking never did a body good.’
As soon as she was washed and dressed she would head over to the Summers’ house and say hi to Willow. She knew from the little that Buffy and Dawn had told her, the little she had allowed them to tell her, that Willow was doing well. She would ask about her job, about her new friends…
A wave of queasiness washed through her, but she refused to let the feeling build. She didn’t hate her ex-girlfriend. Far from it. She still cared for her, she still…she still cared for her. The idea that Willow might be under a different impression was painful.
Tara swung her legs out of bed. Get washed, get dressed, go to Buffy’s. In a couple of hours she would be back home and everything would be normal again.
************
Buffy dropped the stack of dishes into the sink with a crash that boded ill for those on the bottom of the pile. Yet again, yet
again, Dawn had rushed off to school and left a trail of devastation in her wake. To be precise, two sticky glasses, a bowl with remains of oatmeal now firmly dried on, one sideplate, knife and spoon, (also sticky), and a swath of crumbs across the breakfast bar. Was it too much to ask of her to take a couple of steps to the sink, turn on the tap and place the rinsed dishes on the side?
Dawn wasn’t a child anymore but she still seemed to believe in fairies. Or at least one, housekeeper fairy who arrived while she was out and was responsible for the clean dishes in the cupboard, the food in the fridge and the laundered clothes by her bed.
And then Xander had arrived to take Willow to the bus station on his way to work. Of course he had helped himself to breakfast too, and apparently he was similarly ignorant of the location of the sink. And as for Willow… well, Willow had added precisely one coffee cup to the mess, because obviously the few mouthfuls of dinner she had eaten last night were more than sufficient to sustain her for the day.
As soon as breakfast was finished, all three had run out the door, in a flurry of hugs, leaving her with no one to shout at.
Buffy glanced at the clock, rolled up her sleeves and gave the faucet a savage twist. If she washed these dishes now, she’d have time to get some grocery shopping done before getting to work to wash more dishes. The running water almost drowned out the sound of a tentative knock at the open backdoor, and she looked up, surprised to see Tara just inside the kitchen.
‘Hi,’ said Tara softly, then, taking in the state of the kitchen, ‘Wow.’
Buffy smiled, glad to see her friend and glad of the opportunity to rant to someone other than herself.
‘Welcome to the Summers’ Hotel. The pay’s non-existent and the tips are worse, but hey, at least the guests really appreciate you.’
‘Dawn,’ said Tara.
‘Dawn,’ Buffy confirmed. ‘With a special appearance from Xander Harris.’
‘Um, you need a hand with that?’ Tara came further into the room and swiped a cloth from the side.
‘Nah, there’s coffee in the pot. Take a seat, try and find a clear space and I’ll bring you a cup.’
Tara neatly stacked the remaining dirty dishes and wiped the counter down.
‘So… is Willow still in bed?’
Buffy had her back to her, busy filling two mugs with coffee.
‘Nope, she got the early bus. Xander took her.’
‘Oh.’
Buffy turned and set down the mugs in front of Tara.
‘You saw her yesterday.’ Buffy’s tone of voice was deliberately even, but when she saw a flush creep over the other woman’s face, she felt a twinge of irritation.
Great. Just great. What exactly did she say to her? ‘Yes. I did. She…she surprised me a little.’ Tara reached for her mug, turning it to grasp the handle.
‘My fault, I guess,’ Buffy replied breezily. ‘But she had that resolve look going on, hard to resist, you know.’
Tara took a sip of coffee and kept her face down, gazing into the cup.
‘I just…I just wish you’d warned me.’
Buffy waved a hand in the air in a nonchalant gesture.
‘Didn’t think you’d mind. It’s not like you hate her or anything.’
Tara’s head shot up.
‘Of course I don’t hate her!’
‘Well, that’s ok then.’
Both women drank their coffee silently for a few minutes. Buffy looked around the kitchen, then up at the clock.
‘Oh joy. Another shift at my dream job awaits.’
Tara frowned in confusion.
‘I thought you didn’t work Fridays.’
‘I don’t usually, but my shift supervisor is getting married today, so it’s all hands to the pump, or all monkeys to the grease, or whatever.’
‘Oh, well…that’s nice, I guess.’ Tara shifted on her seat.
‘Yeah, it’s a beautiful thing. For better, for worse, in sickness and in health - all that good stuff.’ Buffy gave an exaggerated shrug. ‘I give it a month.’
Tara abruptly stood up.
‘I-I really should get going.’
Buffy scrambled to her feet, one hand reaching out to Tara, but the other woman stepped back.
‘Look Tara…I didn’t mean…She treated you badly. Beyond badly. You left her. I get that. I’m just…’
Tara cut across her. ‘I’d like Willow’s address please.’
Buffy took a stride backwards, startled.
‘Is that a good idea?’ The look she saw on her friend’s face wasn’t one she was used to.
‘The address. Please.’
Buffy took in the unwavering gaze, the slightly raised chin and the clenched jaw. After a moment, she nodded. She went to the counter, dragged over a pen and notebook and quickly scribbled down a few lines. She looked up at Tara. When the other woman didn’t look away, Buffy handed her the scrap of paper.
Tara glanced at it then folded it into her hand.
‘Thank you.’
She was already heading for the door when Buffy called her name. She turned, her expression set. Buffy hesitated and then said simply,
‘Take care.’
Tara nodded and walked out.
Buffy stared after her, unmoving, until she noticed the pen, still in her hand and threw it down on the counter. Contrary to popular opinion, Buffy was quite capable of introspection. She just didn’t like it. The see-a-problem-slay-it ethos of her calling suited her well. But sometimes even she couldn’t avoid a moment of reflection; she knew exactly who she was really angry with.
Buffy slammed her palms down on the counter, causing a mug near the edge to bounce off and hit the floor with a crash. She observed the wreckage for a moment, then stepped delicately over the shards of china, avoided the splashes of coffee, and headed for the stairs. Let the housekeeper fairy clean it up.
************
The stabbing pain in her side finally registered and Tara realised how fast she had been walking. She slowed down abruptly, taking in her surroundings. She was already almost home. She wiped a thin sheen of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, her fingers still clutching a small piece of paper. As her breathing evened out, she tried to sort through the jumbled mess of her thoughts.
Buffy had…what exactly had Buffy just done? ‘For better for worse, in sickness and in health.’ Did Buffy think that she’d abandoned Willow? Did she blame her for leaving? Had she always thought that and never said? No. Buffy had understood better than anyone why Tara had needed to move out, why she had to get away. Tara would never forget hearing Buffy explain how her little sister had broken her arm. By the time she told Tara the story her voice was calm, the rage was banked. In the Slayer’s eyes Tara had seen something else. Loss. Buffy protected people. It was her job and her nature. She kept the ones she loved safe from the forces of darkness. The two were distinct and separate. They had to be. How could she fight otherwise? Who could she fight? It was a mockery. It could not happen. Not on her watch. Not again. Tara had never felt closer to Buffy than in that moment.
The memory settled her as she walked, slowly now, towards the house she shared.
Tara tugged her keys out with her free hand. She pushed open the door and was grateful for the silence which greeted her. At this time of day her roommates were likely to be in class and if she hurried she could be gone before they got back. A note stuck to the fridge would suffice as an explanation for her absence. Tara glanced at the clock in the hallway as she briskly made her way to the stairs. The next bus was not due to leave til early evening, but there was a lunchtime train she could catch if she left right now.
Once in her room, Tara’s movements were quick and decisive. From the back of the closet she pulled out a light canvas bag. She threw in her wash things, a handful of clothing and a paperback novel. It was only when the task was complete that she realised she was still holding the folded scrap of paper in one hand. Tara sank onto the bed and carefully smoothed out the note. The address was still there, in Buffy’s neat handwriting. She refolded the paper and pushed it deep into the pocket of her jeans.
Buffy was feeling the strain lately. That lousy job, the slaying, looking after Dawn – the pressure rarely let up. People lashed out when they were stressed, said things they didn’t really mean.
‘You left her.’ She had. She knew that. And yet those words had hit her with the force of a revelation. An instinctive denial had come to her lips. Separating herself from Willow was an impossibility, how could Buffy say that?
She had said it because it was true. A simple fact.
I left Willow. With a final glance around the room, she picked up her bag. On her way out she hesitated, then grabbed her winter coat off the back of the door. It would be colder in the city.
************