by Jae » Fri Jan 11, 2002 10:46 pm
by Quill » Fri Jan 11, 2002 11:05 pm
by Jessie » Sat Jan 12, 2002 12:04 am
Anyway, loved the update. Am waiting for more, per usual.
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"And how long have you known your girlfriend's Tinkerbell?"
by Dice » Sat Jan 12, 2002 12:25 am
by willow_thebadasswitch » Sat Jan 12, 2002 1:23 am
I like the way you pulled out stuff that Willow's been hiding and gave it form... well, in the form of her friends but still...
Will Buffy be making an appearance too?
by emily 'first' » Sat Jan 12, 2002 7:16 am
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vive,valeque.
by nika » Sat Jan 12, 2002 8:12 am
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"Eat lot's of applesauce, preferably fed to you by attractive young lesbians." Amber Benson
by Superstar » Sat Jan 12, 2002 3:36 pm
[This message has been edited by Superstar (edited January 12, 2002).]
by Tiggrscorpio » Sat Jan 12, 2002 8:03 pm
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She's my everything!
by Rosenberg » Sat Jan 12, 2002 9:58 pm
by Puff » Sun Jan 13, 2002 11:46 am
Looking forward to the next part
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Bloody hell, sodding, limey, shagging, knickers, bollocks...oh God...I'm English
by bearskeeper » Sun Jan 13, 2002 3:18 pm
by orion » Sun Jan 13, 2002 5:28 pm
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"Okay, thats a little blacker then I like my arts" -Willow
by mariacomet » Tue Jan 15, 2002 7:08 am
It may be a day or two between updates as my back has been really bugging me the last few days. I even caved in and made a doctor's appt.
Anyhow, I will get the next part up asap
by Rosenberg » Tue Jan 15, 2002 7:24 pm
As far as specific feedback is concerned, should it be posted here, or is it better to email the author?
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I'm very seldom naughty
by mariacomet » Tue Jan 15, 2002 11:03 pm
quote:
Originally posted by Rosenberg:
I am at this moment sending healing energy to your back so that you recover quickly and completely. I, of course, have an ulterior motive for this. I must have the next installment very soon.As far as specific feedback is concerned, should it be posted here, or is it better to email the author?
Hey, my back DOES feel better. Of course with you and RJ sending me good vibes, how could it not?
Specific feedback can always be emailed to me at the address that should be in the beginning to every story. mariacomet@hotmail.com
Always happy to recieve feedback. Promise to get more up soon!
by Rosenberg » Wed Jan 16, 2002 6:53 pm
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I'm very seldom naughty
by mariacomet » Fri Jan 18, 2002 10:38 am
Email address: mariacomet@hotmail.com
Distribution: Just let me know.
Spoilers: All episodes. I am loosely tying this to my 'Empty Boxes' and 'Believe' pieces but I don't think you have to read them to understand this.
Rating: PG…for now. There will be at least an 'R' part toward the end, which I have to tell you I am already blushing about writing.
Disclaimer: All Characters contained here-in are owned by and products of the genius of Joss Whedon and Co.
Dedication: I truly want to thank Kieli and Amanda for their tireless work and assistance. Also thank you RJ for your constant encouragement and faith.
Legends of the Kiss
(Part 5b)
By Mariacomet
The blonde vampire was pretty sure that this was a life or death situation. At least in so far as one that is already dead can have such a situation. How had Dawn managed to talk him into this, Spike asked himself. One word was all he would have had to say…one word, one syllable. No. N.O. She was a nuisance was what she was. It wasn’t his job to baby-sit her or play cupid for her or anything else. After this, he was done. He’d wash his hands of all teenagers. No matter how bloody brilliant they could be… or who their sister was.
Several demons were gathered outside of Earl’s waiting room. The whole place had once been a gas station on the outskirts of town. The waiting area was in reality an old garage, and still smelled of gasoline. Spike scanned the riff raff and decided that none of them would give him any real trouble. He took it upon himself to barge through the side door into Earl’s office.
A three-horned demon whirled toward the doorway and growled at Spike. The vampire grabbed it by the front of its grey and white striped jacket and shoved it out the door. “Sorry. Heard my number called.” Spike commented then shut and locked the door.
“Mr. Bloody… what… now you really are taking one too many liberties!” Earl cried out in dismay, his small ears, sitting majestically on the top of his head, raised straight up. Earl was a two bit hustler who had a much more successful business on the side as an interpreter of ancient texts. His real skill though was mimicking the written word: documents, letters, prophesies - anything that could be done by the human hand. If he could get a sample of writing, he could adapt both to the style and script of the writer. Since he dealt with such falsities all the time, Spike had figured it wouldn’t be a stretch for Earl to make one up from scratch and make it sound good.
The forger looked a bit like a collie, with a shaggy mane of dark to light brown hair, and an elongated snout that seemed to be constantly sniffing. The other thing about Earl was that he always wore sweater vests. He thought they made him look trustworthy. Spike grabbed him by the front of such a vest. The vampire’s game face slid into place and he leaned in very close to the smaller demon.
“I’m about to take one more.” Spike growled. “You swindled me.”
Earl’s arm floundered behind him and his hand closed on a pair of glasses there. He brought them up, perching them on the end of his long snout. “I’ve never swindled a customer in my life. And even if I did, you know I h-have a strict no refunds policy. Not that you paid anything…”
”That little ditty you gave me, made some close associates of mine go all poof-like.”
The blonde tossed the dog-faced demon against his desk and slowly began stalking toward him. Spike turned over a nearby filing cabinet, seething. “I’ve known you a long time. I thought you were smarter,” He was still walking forward. “Now, I’m gonna have to eat you.”
“Poof-like? Mr. Bloody, please! There’s been some mistake. I did exactly what you wanted.” He tried to straighten but the vampire was crowding his space. “I was quite proud of it, actually.” Bared teeth were a hopeful smile. “Romanticism with that hint of dark mystery. Emily Dickenson meets Edgar Allen Poe.” His fear of Spike rescinded long enough for the forger to grow nostalgic. “Poe - now he was a man after a demon’s heart.”
The immortal grabbed the back of the collie-like head. “You’re going to tell me where they are and how to get them back, you get me?”
“ I… I admit that you not paying is not the usual way that I do business.” Earl stuttered. “But I am a professional.” He managed a haughty tone here, though it disappeared under a glower from his ‘customer.’ Earl straightened his sweater vest. “I don’t know what you mean. I did the legend just like you asked.” He tried to duck away but Spike slammed a hand near his head, holding him in place
The vampire grabbed his nose, effectively ending the commentary. Earl’s ears stood straight up again. “Yeah, you did a right good job, up till the part where two people completely disappeared. Now, if you don’t start giving me answers, I’m going to rip out your entrails and strangle you with them.” He let the forger go, glaring at him menacingly.
“But… But…” He pushed his glasses up higher with a fingertip. “Perhaps if you can t-tell me about these people that disappeared?”
“Witches.” Spike said shortly. “Two of ‘em. Under an oak tree. They and the damn tree took a powder.”
This made Earl pause. “Are you saying t-that this legend was for a pair of witches?”
A second ticked by and in the tradition of how Spike’s evening was going, it took just that long for the door to the office to be kicked in. It shocked Spike that Dawn was standing there. Since when was the nibblet that strong, the vampire wondered.
“Dawn, I took you home. I told you to stay there.” This was the last thing he needed. Or so he thought. Actually the last thing he needed walked through the door after Dawn did – Ms. Buffy Summers herself, looking like she was out to take a life, or an un-life as the case might be. Bloody hell, thought Spike. His eyes weighed Dawn’s somewhat guilty expression against Buffy’s angry one. The little bit had ratted him out. Since when did the nibblet tattle? To be fair, she didn’t look happy about it, but he’d have never turned on her. Well – never unless it would have REALLY benefited him. He almost felt a little hurt. Alright, fine. He had a million things he could tell Buffy about her. Not that the slayer seemed particular interested in listening to anything from the likes of him at the moment.
“Well hello, Spike. Fancy meeting you here.” She set her hands on her hips, her eyes blazing. Her tone was flat, and Spike just barely held back a wince. He was in big trouble.
“Alright, before you start…”
Her fist launched itself toward the target of his jaw and made sudden, precise contact. “Too late.” She growled.
The vampire took the blow and felt himself slam into a wall. He rubbed his jaw, and advanced toward Buffy, his own gaze simmering. It had been awhile since they had been intimate, but the energy was still ripe between them. If this was the way she wanted things, then he would oblige. He was done being her punching dummy. “Still like it rough, eh luv? You forget, I like to be the one that leads when we dance.”
“Guys!” Dawn interrupted stepping between them. “Big picture here, okay?” The teenager looked between the vampire and her sister. “Willow and Tara?”
Spike dabbed his fist at his mouth and checked for blood. There was none. Damn, if she had cut him, he could have had a nip of blood. It would have been the only good thing to come from this night. “I told you NOT to tell her.” He grumbled to Dawn.
“I did this.” Dawn gritted out. “I had to make it right.” She raised her eyes, her countenance burning with strength. “This is what Buffy does.”
The immortal in the black overcoat felt himself unwillingly soften. “You should have trusted me.” He answered quietly.
“Not trusting you is the first shred of common sense she showed in this entire thing.” Buffy shot back.
Alright, Spike decided, that was pushing things way too far. “Well listen to Saint Buffy. I might not always do the white, bright thing but I’m always there when she needs me. Can you say that?”
His words hurt. They always seem to stab far too deeply. He had this knack of finding her vulnerabilities. An image filled her head of him rolling atop her and she shuddered, though from revulsion or desire, she couldn’t be sure. “Spike, I don’t have time to call you all the names I want to call you right now. We’ll do a rain check.” The Slayer spun toward the Collie then. “You - where are my friends and how do we get them back?”
The forger turned away, running his hand through the coat of his mane. “Oh dear.” His black nose crinkled and he gave a shake of his head. “The slayer’s friends? I-I thought this had something to do with you and her.” He motioned between Buffy and Spike.
“Me and her?” The vampire didn’t like the sound of that.
“The um… well… courtship.” Earl said gingerly. Being stuck between a Slayer and a vampire was not the ideal place to be.
“Courtship?” Buffy railed. “There’s no ship. No shipping. None.” Her look was an extreme order for the vampire to back her up.
Spike didn’t take orders. Instead he reached in his jacket and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. “Someone’s been talking about us?”
“You could say that.” The dog-faced demon gave half a smile and gestured outside. “Not that I would ever do anything so vulgar but I have a-a friend that put down a hundred kitten bet that within 90 days you’ll sleep with her, then betray and kill her. It was 5 to 1 odds.”
That news was mortifying and Buffy paled. She looked at the forger for several moments, her mouth opening and closing like a caught trout breathing for air. “People are betting on us…I mean, on he and I?” Earl gave a helpless little shrug.
Spike wasn’t quite sure how to feel. He liked the idea that people were betting FOR him to kill the slayer. Apparently not everyone thought he’d lost his edge. “One of the sharks handling it?”
“Right.” The forger noted. It was in his best interest to be as helpful as possible. “The little shop downtown, you know the one?”
The Slayer grabbed the cigarette from Spike’s mouth and tossed it to the ground. “What are the odds on the Slayer staking him in the next, say, 60 seconds?” Buffy wanted to know.
Spike eyed her. “Same odds that you’ll get yourself bit trying.”
Frustration had been building in the teenager. Buffy and Spike seemed to only have eyes for one another. It was the way it always seemed to be. Buffy, anywhere but here, thinking about anything except what was going on. “Shut up.” She yelled at both of them.
“Can you both get over yourselves for five seconds? You want to know who’s been there for me? Tara.” At this, Buffy looked like she’d been slapped. Spike shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He started to say something but she wouldn’t let him. “She’s the only one that doesn’t make me feel like I’m baggage.”
“Dawn, I…” Buffy began.
Again, the teen was having none of it. She didn’t want to hear anything from Spike or Buffy at the moment. “The only time I feel totally safe is when she’s around. When she is…it’s like before mom died. I won’t let either of you take that away from me.” She was talking so fast that she had barely had time to catch a breath. She did now. “We have to get Willow and Tara back.”
Earl was a renaissance man and was smart enough to recognize Dawn’s words as a definitive change of topic. He focused his attention on the girl, sniffing at her, sensing how deep her distress was. Guilt, fear…and a well of sadness that was so deep it almost made him lose his concentration. “Willow and Tara… they’re the two witches?” Dawn nodded. The forger scratched behind one ear while considering the question. “They know it’s a forgery right? That the legend isn’t real?” The vampire gave him a long look, his eye squinting slightly in a grimace. Dawn, likewise, covered her face with one hand.
Dawn’s sister noticed her distress and quietly asked the next question. “What if they don’t know?”
Earl turned to Spike, eyes wide and a slight whimper escaping him. “You had me make up a legend for two witches during the Winter solstice a-and one or both of them might believe? Well no wonder strange things are happening. Look, I’m sorry. Whatever happens now, it’s out of my hands.”
Dawn shook her head feverently, trying to deny and understand the words all at once. “What do you mean whatever happens now? What’s going to happen?”
“There’s no way for me to know.” Earl answered helplessly. His agitation had increased dramatically and was panting, his tongue hanging slightly out of one side of his mouth. Earl’s chest puffed out with all the dignity he could muster. “Mr. Bloody, Ms. Slayer, Little person, I am a professional. I am very loyal to my customers.” He took a moment to catch his breath and calm down. “If I could help, even though per the standard contract, I claim no responsibility for the side effects of one of my creations - I would. But, like all matters of faith, what happens in a Legend is strictly up to the interpretation of the people involved.”
“Are you saying you don’t know where they are?” The Slayer asked. Dawn was right. Behaving selfishly seemed to be something she was excelling at lately. She hand’t viewed any of this seriously. Not until now. Her own question made her heart sink. She couldn’t even allow herself to attach Willow and Tara’s faces to such an idea.
“There’s no way I could. No way you could. There no are limitations to the possible doors that can be opened with faith.” He frowned and glanced longingly at his desk, which was just a few steps away but since Spike and Buffy were blocking his path, it may as well have been a hundred miles. “That was…” He tried smiling at them. “I really should write that one down.”
Buffy moved closer to business-demon, her mouth set in a thin line. “Dawn told me all about your writing. Something about tears and drowning.”
The Collie blinked at them a few times and licked his chops. “Um, well, all legends have equal mixes of dark and light to them. I just…ran with it.”
“What exactly does that mean?” The Slayer asked, the quicksandy feeling she’d had earlier was beginning to grow.
"These two witches are in love? But something separated them?” He looked to the young girl, who nodded slowly. Earl lowered his head, struggling with words. Spike knew this to be a bad sign. If there was one thing Earl could do, it was talk. “One guess might be - whatever they believe they deserve deep down is what they’ll receive. This all depends on where they take the Legend and what they do when they get there. On a night like this where innate magic and belief come into play, the consequences would be the most extreme possible. I did, per request, specifically put in that bit about eternity.”
The Slayer shook her head to clear it. She wanted this all simplified. She was better with small concepts like – there, demon. Buffy kill demon. This psychoanalytic stuff was more in Giles’s backyard or maybe Willow’s. “Are you telling me that because of some pseudo-legend, my friends might be cursed to lifetimes of misery?”
Earl’s ears twitched. “Well, that’d be one way to put it. Or…extreme happiness”
“It’s just a book.” Buffy reasoned, angrily.
The forger removed his glasses, his brow furrowed. “You don’t believe that words have the power to change things? Poetry is just words. Shakespeare. The Bible. Martin Luther King - what he gave is mostly words.”
“Suddenly, I’m back in High School English.” The Slayer sighed. “Look, just reverse this Legend or dispel it or whatever. We’ll call it a day.”
“Ms. Slayer, that’s what I’m trying to tell you; I can’t.” Earl insisted.
“That’s not true.” The teenager fumed – furious at herself – furious at all of them. “That can’t be true. Buffy, he’s lying.” Buffy didn’t think he was, and she lightly laid a hand on her sister’s back.
Earl swallowed nervously. “Look, people chatter on every day. Half the time they’re not paying attention to what they say, and most of the rest of the time, not listening to what anyone else says, either. Not really, anyway. Then someone comes along who embraces the idea behind a word. A person brave enough not to abandon what that word really means. Not to compromise it. The right person, the right time, holding fast to the right idea. This is a far more random and powerful thing then I could ever be capable of creating or… reversing. “
The Slayer was in earnest now. “HOW do we get them back?”
Earl shook his head. He blinked at them almost sadly. “Eventually they should return on their own. They were the ones that decided to believe. There’s no stopping that. All you can do is wait. And if the worst happens, you can try and be there for them. They’ll need you.”
Spike had been there to see Buffy’s face just after Giles left. This look was similar. So lost. “Buffy…”
“Shut up Spike.” Buffy snapped. Her jaw clenched as she stared daggers into him. “Stay away from me. And stay away from my sister.”
“Buffy, it was my idea.” Dawn insisted.
She was still glaring at the vampire. “You know, it’s enough that you torment me – But Tara and Willow – they never hurt anyone. They’re the first to see the good in people. Even in you. And if what you did makes either of them suffer anymore than they already have living on this damn Hellmouth, I swear to God, I will hunt you down like a dog.”
He faltered a moment. “Oh yeah, because you, Red and the nibblet are so damned happy anyway. You have oh-so-much to lose.” He took a step forward. “You don’t know who the hell you are, much less being able to help anyone else figure it out.” Spike tilted his chin up just slightly. “Dawn’s determined to put her finger in every pie she can till she finds whatever she thinks she needs. And let’s not even talk about Red. You’re all walking about in circles and it makes me sick to watch it. So, yeah, I decided if Red’s ex can help any of you catch a clue, I’m all for it.” Spike took another step forward. “You’re gonna lose little sis if something doesn’t change, Slayer. One way or the other.”
Buffy struggled to meet his gaze. Meet it and not break down into tears. The vampire turned away and walked out through the busted door. Buffy stared after him till Dawn lightly touched her hand.
“It’ll be alright, won’t it?” Dawn asked. “Willow and Tara, they’ll be okay, right?”
Buffy was remembering what it was like to have heaven and lose it. Losing love… could it be that powerful? When Angel left, she remembered pain, but it was so distant now. It was like trying to remember a dream, just as it was with most of her deeper emotions. Had it been like losing heaven? She wondered if Willow or Tara might now be consigned to feel the kind of agony. If they did, how would they be able to stand it? And how, when she was still felt lost, could she be of any real help?
[This message has been edited by mariacomet (edited January 18, 2002).]
by Quill » Fri Jan 18, 2002 11:08 am
by Rane » Fri Jan 18, 2002 11:48 am
by RomanceJunky » Fri Jan 18, 2002 4:08 pm
Like the feel you had for all the characters. Spike was, as usual, spot on. "Well listen to Saint Buffy..." LOL!!!
Another great part Baby, thank you!
RJ..I'm ready for the next part now...
PS--BTW, Thank You, (MT)...From the bottom of my heart...glad I could be of help.
YW
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"Next year...shits gonna go down...her relationship with Tara will continue---but the course of True Love is never easy."
Joss Whedon-"OUT" magazine, August 2001
[This message has been edited by RomanceJunky (edited January 18, 2002).]
by Rosenberg » Fri Jan 18, 2002 7:29 pm
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I'm very seldom naughty
by mariacomet » Sat Jan 19, 2002 9:42 am
Quill - I believe in the idea that words can change things. Hence, I write. I just made literal in this case. But you are correct, the feelings between the two are dynamicially effecting their fate now and will effect the future. Hope you keep enjoying it.
By the way, the back is still in some pain but doing better.
Rane: I'm rather fond of Tara's role in Dawn's life and I am a bit annoyed with Buffy's LACK of a role...so in my mind, it had to be said Much hugs to you too.
R.J: It's scarey how you get into my mind like, albeit it in a very good way. Thank you. I'm working feverishly on the next part because I know how demanding some folks are (Like you, MT)
Rosenberg: Thanks for the well wishes. Hopefully it will be a MUCH shorter time frame to get something else up. MAYBE even tonight.
by emily 'first' » Sat Jan 19, 2002 11:48 am
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vive,valeque.
by Superstar » Sat Jan 19, 2002 7:52 pm
by mariacomet » Sun Jan 20, 2002 4:04 pm
Title: Legends of the Kiss part 6a
Feedback: - *puppy dog eyes* Please?
Email address: mariacomet@hotmail.com
Distribution: Just let me know.
Spoilers: All episodes. I am loosely tying this to my 'Empty Boxes' and 'Believe' pieces but I don't think you have to read them to understand this.
Rating: PG·for now. There will be at least an 'R' part toward the end, which I have to tell you I am already blushing about writing.
Disclaimer: All Characters contained here-in are owned by and products of the genius of Joss Whedon and Co.
Legends of the Kiss
(Part 6a)
By Mariacomet
The tree continued to glow and a blue circle rose around them again. Nearby a marker of stone appeared. It was a simple gray shape that rose from the ground. No, not a marker, realized Willow, a headstone. One that was familiar.
Willow’s eyes ran over the name etched deep in the gray marble - “Buffy Summers” - again and again. Tara inhaled sharply as she too recognized the grave. I didn’t mean for you to do this, darling, Tara thought frantically. I didn’t want you to ever have to come back here. Tara was holding the book to her and she suddenly wanted to destroy it, to do whatever it took to get Willow away from here. But the fire was gone now.
Buffy Summers was suddenly with them, dressed in a black turtleneck, and a long dark overcoat. She carried two white roses in her hand. Buffy walked forward until she stood directly before the grave. She bent down, leaning one rose against the gravesite reverently.
“Buffy.” Willow called. Hope ran over her. Her friend always found a way to save her, to save them… always.
The slayer didn’t seem to hear. She started to walk away, then stopped. She turned to Willow and offered her the second rose. Buffy’s expression was as blank as Xander’s had been.
The redhead’s fingertips closed around the stem, playing it between her fingertips. Was it possible for someone to cry too much, so much that their heart burst from the ripping of tears being forced out? Feeling the heat in her eyes, she took the rose.
“This is what you wanted.” Buffy said quietly.
“What…?”
A nod toward the grave from the slayer. “This is what you wanted.”
The words may as well have been fired from a gun. They burned hot and hideous in her ears. She shook her head wildly. “No… no, I never…”
Tara was equally as agitated by the words, and the deflated slouch of the woman she loved. “That’s not true.”
“You wanted to be me.” Buffy continued simply, concentrating on the hacker. Her eyes caught those of her friend and would not let go. “When I was gone, you got to play my part.”
Guilt and revulsion bled from Willow’s usually sharp, cheerful eyes. Her expression flattened as she tried to push what Buffy had said away from herself. Analyzing it, factoring it – sure she could come up with a way it wasn’t true. Couldn’t be true. Couldn’t be true! She hadn’t wanted to be the boss. She had simply accepted it. Wasn’t that true? Yet she had felt oddly comfortable in the role and it was true that… that she had taken some pleasure in it. But no… she loved Buffy. Buffy was her best friend.
“How can you… I l-loved you so much. I wasn’t sure where you’d gone. When you died it was like… this hole kept growing and growing inside me. I couldn’t make it go away. Nothing felt right.” It was too much, too much pain ripped from her and scattered on the ground like jacks. Willow’s eyes were deadened, the price for her demons being torn from her one by one. Her heart felt like it had been crushed, then expanded only to be crushed again. The rush of memories was too much. The thoughts didn’t stay long and if each one had paused longer than a moment, she was sure it would have broken her irrevocably. They stayed long enough, showing her over and over who she really was. A parade of her own words and thoughts tossed back at her. Willow fought the revelation, certain that she might go mad if she didn’t. It was getting difficult to talk. It was hard to stand, and not crumble. “I-I c-chose the spot… where you were buried.” She choked out the words. “It w-was under a willow tree, because… because I wanted to f-f-feel some p-part of me would always be watching over you.”
The Slayer looked back to the grave. She leaned closer to her longtime friend. “You wanted to be me. Ever since you met me, you wanted what I had. My beauty, my confidence. My… power.” Buffy’s brows raised in a silent dare for Willow to deny any of what had been said. “When I died, they all turned to you. You were glad I was gone. No more sidekick. It was all you.”
Willow’s face was alive with hate for the words. “I… I brought you back.” She insisted.
“I saved you so many times.” Buffy stated matter of factly. “This time,” She shrugged slightly, “you wanted to play the hero. You wanted me to thank you.”
Tara stepped between them, facing up to the leader of the Scoobies. She stood before Willow protectively. “This isn’t fair. People think and feel all kinds of things when someone they love dies. When we grieve we run through extremes.” The words were as much for her ex-lover’s benefit as for Buffy’s. “It’s normal and you can’t hold someone accountable for that.”
Buffy nodded. “But I’m not.” It was odd, but Tara believed her. It made sense. This was all Willow-world. When the Slayer had died, Willow, for once, hadn’t denied the role of importance thrust upon her. She had bore the mantel quietly, with such seriousness and dedication that at times it had worried Tara. This, worries me too… Willow looks like someone who believes they deserve to be punished.
“I thought horrible things when my mother died.” The blonde witch soothed. “I’ve told you, Willow… you know…”
“She wants you to hear.” The Slayer reminded and nodded to the book in Tara’s hands. “This is what she wanted.”
“It’s too much.” Tara whispered, her chin quivering slightly as she clutched the book harder to her chest.
“It’s everything.” Buffy replied. Sobbing – the far away cried of a child in pain - started but this time it seemed to rise up from the very ground. Dawn’s older sister looked to Willow. ”Eventually you knew you’d take the big fall, didn’t you? See, you want the role of the hero but deep down, you know that you can’t handle it.” The tiniest of smiles, brushed the corners of Buffy’s mouth upward. “You’re not me.”
The rose in Willow’s hand shifted into a dagger and she found her hands covered in blood. A fawn lay dead at her feet, its innocent face frozen in death. It’s body limp and bloody. Willow began to shake violently and dropped the dagger. She felt herself collapse to her knees. Tara moved forward instantly, trying to go to her, but Willow scrambled back toward the headstone at her approach.
“Willow,” The blonde called softly.
“Don’t.” Willow said. “I can’t…” I can’t let you touch me right now. Not now. It would be a lie, wouldn’t it, if you touched me? If you reassured me? I can’t… I can’t let myself hope. Tara nodded at the request. She bent down by the deer, touching its head lightly.
“You did this?” Tara asked in a whisper. Her expression was not horrified, but it was profoundly sad. Another secret. It was an angry thought, but immediately an inner voice defended Willow. She was just trying to protect me. She sighed, her eyes running over the fine, soft coat of the animal before her. Oh, Willow. Something in me always wants to defend you. No matter what you do. You lied to me. Again. Just for a moment, Tara thought of the beast with the green eyes.
“The s-spell called for it, Tara. I h-had to do it, myself.” The other woman replied and leaned her cheek against Buffy’s headstone. “I would have done anything.”
Buffy pursed her lips thoughtfully. “You read that resurrection spell and you were oh so tempted. Not just because of me. To see if you could. You wanted to know. You being all curious cost me heaven.” Willow felt as if she was being stabbed. Over and over with the same dull knife. “You let me down. Like you let yourself down. Like you let everyone down. If you had been better, your parents wouldn’t have ignored you. I wouldn’t have died. Xander would have loved you. Oz wouldn’t have left. Tara… would have stayed.”
“I think you should leave now.” Tara said, rising. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared down the figment of Buffy.
The one that had saved the world; a lot, as the others had stated it, took the words with a blink, then pivoted, almost in military style. “Your call, Willow.” Willow didn’t answer but Buffy nodded as if in answer to a statement. “You lost this.” The Slayer said and turned to Tara. A book had sprung from nowhere and was now in Buffy’s hands. Tara recognized the heavy volume but she didn’t understand its significance here and now. It was ‘The History of Witchcraft.’
“Dawn had questions.” Buffy said. The black turtleneck and overcoat were gone in their place was suddenly a long blue gown. It was a simple dress, but framed the Slayer elegantly. The silk fabric hung loosely from her, spaghetti straps holding it in place. “Because they put her in the ground.” The gaze that Buffy gave Tara was ironic. “But you don’t mess with life and death.”
Tara knew what Buffy was suggesting then, but she wouldn’t allow herself to make a correlation between the spell that Dawn had cast and Willow. She refused to accept that her lover could have had any hand in that. She looked back and forth between the slayer and her ex-girlfriend as if they were playing some sort of sadistic tennis match.
The redhead knew where this was going. It flooded over her, and she knew she should feel guilty. Deep down, she did feel guilty. Yet devils were dancing all around her in this place and she couldn’t summon the heart to be more ashamed. Still, Willow had regretted it. The emotion weakened the shape of her face in an unspoken admission. “I wanted to help… I was… was desperate to help.”
“You helped Dawn…” Tara tried to sort that idea out in her mind. Willow wouldn’t, she argued with herself.
The hacker was a child again, bearing the scrutiny of someone else she loved that disapproved of her. “I just… I just helped her find the book.”
“But…” Denial fled and Tara’s jaw clenched. Anger and revulsion were having their way with her, running through her veins, icy and gleeful. “I told you… you knew it was dangerous.”
“It thought it was just history. Just…”
“You lied to me.” Tara tried to rein herself in. It was the past. She would not cry. She would not cry. She would not cry. “Dawn could have…” Too many possibilities rained into her mind, all of them dark and twisting, with jaws that ate little girls who had just lost their mother. Willow had known what Tara thought, known her objections. But… but, she calmed herself. The book had been out in plain sight; Dawn might have found it on her own. It wasn’t like the young woman had needed more excuses to go looking. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Everything was blank inside Willow – empty – and it dulled the light in sea green eyes. Please, I don’t think I can take much more. Make it stop. Soon. Only one thread of strength was holding her firm. Words that repeated in her head like a mantra. For Tara. For Tara. For Tara.
“It just happened.” Willow tried to explain. “I knew how you felt… about her. The thought of what she might use the book for, it was huge. I didn’t mean it – I didn’t mean for her to cast any spells. If something had happened, I was sure that you’d never…” Her mind kept bumping into that word, unable to get past it. Never. Never wasn’t something that should ever happen with her and Tara. Tara and she had been….always, possible, probably… definitely. “Never f-forgive me.”
It would have been an accident, Tara reasoned with herself, and it was a long time ago.
Buffy bent down and took a black crystal from the ground. “Tabula Rasa.” She murmured. A distinct sound filled the air, a crunching, like a shoe moving over gravel. The trio were suddenly in a dark, dank sewer looking at a moment in the past, frozen. The picture was 3-d, save the lack of motion. Tara was standing, staring down at Willow, heartbroken – betrayed. The statue of Willow was equally as shattered, knowing she had been found out, wanting words… but knowing there were none.
“How long did you last without magic, Willow?” Buffy asked. “A few hours? No, not even that. You were planning this in your heart even while she told you she was thinking about leaving you. You were promising that you could go a month without magic and already thinking about your next spell. Weren’t you?”
The real Willow was still leaning on the grave, but she managed to rise to her feet now. Everything felt like dust inside her, and she wanted to fade into it. Part of her felt as if she already had. Another part of her held on, held herself here and accountable. For Tara, Willow reminded herself. You’re going to have to stand there and deal, Will. This was your idea and it was your doing, all of it. Stand there and take it, because Tara deserves more than a coward. “Yes,” Willow answered, quietly.
Tara hadn’t known. She had never allowed herself to ask that question. Even while she was telling Willow she was going to leave…. even then… Willow was planning to use the spell? Xander’s earlier words came back to Tara. ‘It was about power then, too. She was toying with it like she always does. Lost between one monster and another.’
The scene they were watching changed. The presentation was now the two lovers, lying atop one another, their lips just a breath apart. They had barely remembered who they were, and yet they couldn’t help being drawn together. The image of Tara was reaching upward, caressing Willow’s cheek. It was an etching of a moment where, beyond reason, they knew they belonged together. Staring at that visage, both witches looked from the scene to one another. It was a fleeting glance. Questions that couldn’t be answered – at least not now, not yet – were shadowed in their eyes.
The sound of a crystal breaking intervened and the specters of themselves changed until the Tara of the past was once again looking at the woman she loved, the one that had betrayed her, realizing that leaving was the only thing left for her to do.
With no fanfare, the pictures of the past faded away, then so did Buffy, and finally the grave. The tree shivered as if a strong wind had blown through it. The blue light dimmed. Suddenly above them was the night sky, and before them was the expanse of the park. They were home.
[This message has been edited by mariacomet (edited January 20, 2002).]
by AutumnT » Sun Jan 20, 2002 4:19 pm
Autumn
by Scout » Sun Jan 20, 2002 4:31 pm
by Puff » Sun Jan 20, 2002 5:14 pm
Great update and I am looking forward to how they talk this through now they are back.
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Bloody hell, sodding, limey, shagging, knickers, bollocks...oh God...I'm English
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