By Bobo’s Mom
Rating: PG 13 (lots of inferred R)
Pairing: W/T set 60 or so years in the future.
Feedback: Please be gentle. Feedback is welcome.
Distribution: Who knows?
Disclaimer: My tale is set so far in the future that God-like Joss Whedon would never want to come after one such as me! He owns all. I merely sit at his table and partake.
Spoilers: Nothing that I know of.
This story is dedicated to the writers that I love to read. If you enjoy this story half as much as I’ve enjoyed yours then I will be most pleased. A friend in college use to say “Don’t just lust after girls with guitars! Learn to play yourself!” I write in a similar spirit. This is a first time effort. There will be many updates (I hope), large and small.
Chapter One: Pancakes and newspapers
Willow awoke with a start as her senses filled with the scent of funny shaped pancakes. Her love never believed her, but she could always tell the difference between regular shapes and funny shapes by the scent alone. The past sixty some years had tuned her senses to Tara’s culinary expertise. ‘I’m a connoisseur of all things Tara’ she smugly thought as she reached for her cane and used gravity to shift herself slowly out of their bed.
Crack. Pop. Grind. Willow griped her cane tightly to steady her legs before she took the first step of the new day. Gingerly, she made her way to the bathroom. Leaning over the sink, she reached for her tooth brush, grimacing slightly as her wrist joint creaked loudly. “Ah, the sounds of the morning,” she whispered under her breath as she brought the tooth brush to her mouth. ‘No murky morning breathe for my baby.’ she thought as she looked at her foamy mouthed reflection in the mirror.
As often as she had seen her reflection Willow could never quite recognize the face reflected back at her. Each line marked a demon killed, a loss shouldered, an apocalypse averted. Each white hair signified a lesson learned, a story told, an innovation realized. However, Willow only rarely felt as if her reflection was unattractive. Aging only bothered Willow in the morning, before her joints had the time to fully work them into a state to face the day, and late at night when she lay awake thinking of all the things she would do with a more youthful skeleton at her command. The creaking of her bones allowed other insecurities to come to the fore at the beginning and end of each day. She hated having to lean on a cane to walk. The nightly ritual of balms, wraps and heating pads annoyed her to no end.
Willow had said good bye to her youthful face long ago. She only longed for her red hair when reminded of it. But each year was worth each new indignity because they had all been spent with Tara. ‘What good is growing old with someone,’ she mused, ‘without the growing old part?’ Willow smiled around her tooth brush, and then frowned. Other than the aches and pains one thing did fill her heart with insecurity. - She missed the ability to move with grace as she made love. There was so much she had yet to do with Tara. So many ways left to express physically all the love she felt for her girl. They still made love, and Tara slowed sensitivity toward Willow’s physical limitations, but as the years continued to go by Willow felt the gap growing between what her desires and abilities were. Only then did she mind her older self’s reflection in the mirror. ‘Not the prettiest picture,’ she thought as she looked at her cracking fingers, claw like hands, flapping elbows, ringed neck, wrinkled face and short, snowy hair. “Will, you’re looking a little long in the tooth;” she muttered around her tooth brush, “She must really love you.”
Opening the bathroom door the funny shaped smell assaulted her again. ‘And I love her…and I love her pancakes.’ Gripping the handle of the cane once more Willow began to move from the bathroom toward the kitchen.
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Tara stood over the stove, spatula in hand. ‘One more batch for good luck’ she thought as she flipped the dab of batter that looked slightly like a triangle. Starting to chuckle at her falsehood she sneaked a look down to her feet. “Still there. Oh good.” she snickered. “But not for long!” she laughed as she poured the next serving of batter unto the griddle. Tara continued to laugh as she thought back to the teasing she would take from a friend long gone. ‘What was it that Dawn use to say?’ she thought, ‘No one loves Tara’s pancakes more than Tara.’ The sound of her own laugher made her feel mirthful. After all, Dawn was right.
Tara looked down at her ample bosom and continued to laugh. Other women would torture themselves over the weight she had gained over the years. Luckily, Tara was comfortable in her own skin and had always been since the moment she met Willow. She was loved, and felt beautiful because of it. And every inch of her was loved regularly, especially that bosom she was contemplating and the hips that started quake as the giggles continued. ‘I must be the most oversexed eighty one year old in the world.’ she thought as her laughter grew even louder.
She turned at the sound of Willow’s cane on the tile floor. “What are you snickering about this beautiful morning” Willow said as she smiled at the infectious sound.
“My hips,” Tara replied as she returned her attention back to the stove, “And the inch that’s about to be added to them.”
“Round, soft Tara goodness and funny shaped pancakes,” Willow whispered as she slowly moved behind her love. “That’s my idea of a balanced breakfast!”
Tara smiled as she felt Willows finger’s trace familiar routes around her hips. “Later, you fiend!” she yelped as she flipped the last pancake.
Willow’s hands stilled. “Later for the yummy pancakes or later for the yummy you?” she mumbled before flicking Tara’s ear with the tip of her tongue.
“Strength from one gives stamina for the other.” Tara stated as she turned off the stovetop and leaned into Willow. Placing her hands on the hands that held her she took a calming breathe and said, “Eat now. Then eat later.”
Willow grinned. “How did you know I wanted a two course breakfast this morning?” she said as she took up her cane and moved away from Tara and towards the kitchen table. Willow sat at her usual place and unfolded the morning paper.
“Lucky guess?” Tara replied as she grasped the plate of pancakes and waked toward the table.
Enjoying their usual morning banter, Willow peeked at Tara over the top of her paper. “Lucky Guess?!” she gasped. “Nothing lucky about that guess.” She huffed, the morning paper now forgotten. “After all, Over 95 billon Tara’s have been served at this McWillows over the years! And serviced to! With Happy Meals containing lots of toys. And secret sauce. Never forget saucy buns and the sassy eggs. Who could forget them? I mean, after all these years we…”
“McWillow!” Tara laughed as she cut Willow off before the babbles got out of control. “What are you really trying to say?” she questioned as she sat down and reached over to serve Willow a few pancake squares. Willow looked down at the shapes and smiled. “Oh, I’m just trying to find new metaphors to tell you how much I want you.” Willow replied as she poured syrup over her breakfast.
Willow stopped when she noticed Tara was not serving herself. Looking up, she found herself caught in a smoldering, intent gaze. Tara leaned toward Willow and smiled the half smile Willow had seen thousands of times over. Willow returned the smile and reached out to grip Tara’s hand. “Do you know why I love you?” Tara whispered.
“I think I do, but you can always tell me again.” Willow replied as she began to trace the veins on the back of Tara’s hand.
“I love you because you always know what to say to make me feel beautiful.” Tara’s blue eyes grew impossibly soft as she spoke.
Willow released Tara’s hand and smiled. Using both hands to leverage herself she pushed away from the table and stood. “Then let me show you, Baby, just how beautiful you are.” Willow reached down and smoothed the lines on Tara’s forehead. Tara stood, and moved toward Willow. They embraced and began to move together away from the table.
“No breakfast?” Tara asked. “Better breakfast.” came the reply as Willow kept her hands on Tara’s shoulders. She began to walk unaided by her cane using Tara as her crutch. Tara moved her hands to Willow’s hips to steady her as she began to walk backwards through the room.
Pop. Crack. Willow laughed. “The spirit’s willing. Will the body be able?”
“Don’t you worry about that.” Tara said as they continued to move away from the kitchen and towards the bedroom. She whispered, “I’ll take care of everything,” as she tightened her grip around Willow’s hips.
Willow licked her lips and sighed. ‘Happy meals. Definitely Happy Meals. With lots of toys.’ she thought as they crossed the threshold of their bed room.
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The afternoon sun slowly graced the shadows of their room. Tara took the hand that rested against her heart and began to smooth out the fingers. Willow whistled and curled deeper into Tara’s side.
“Baby, how do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make me feel like every time is the best time?”
Tara smiled and said “What’s with all this singular talk?” as she flexed her other arm tighter around Willow.
“Huh?”
“I mean, shouldn’t you be using the plural, as in more than one time?” Tara teased as she continued to work on the joints that rested above her heart.
Willow rolled her eyes as she continued to move closer to Tara. “I think we should stop speaking in questions and start speaking in tongues.” she mumbled and then licked Tara’s shoulder to emphasize her point.
“Darling,” Tara calmly stated, “We’ve used enough tongues this morning to merit calling an exorcist.”
Willow raised her head and looked down at Tara mortified, and then dissolved with her love into a fit of giggles.
After the laughter ended Willow wiped at her eyes with her free hand. “For that, Tara, I’m going to insist that you continue massaging my hand.”
“And let me guess? Then you want breakfast in bed?”
“Make it lunch and we’ll talk.” Willow replied with a mirthful glimmer in her eye. “But first, the hand.”
Tara took up the hand that still rested above her heart and began to gentlely rub the fingers. “Willowhand,” she whispered, “got quite a work out too, and needs lots of healing energy.”
The room once again filled with laughter.
“I know, I know, I’m a dork!” Tara gasped out between howls.
“But you’re my dork, and don’t you forget it.” Willow roared back in reply.
As things began to calm they heard a stomach growl. Laughter again ensued...
“Was that me or you?”
“Definitely you. I’d know Tara tummy rumbles anywhere.”
Another stomach growl was heard above their laugher.
“Now that one was me.”
“How do you know, Will?”
“Because your tummy rumbles and my tummy grumbles, and that was definitely a grumble.”
________________________________________
Tara tightened her robe around herself as she moved about the house. Entering the bedroom she stopped and leaned against the doorway, wondering why it was that the sight of Willow lounging in bed always managed to quicken her heart.
“Hey there dreamy girl who I just caught dreaming,” Willow called out, “Lunch can’t be done already, can it? I mean, that would be quick, and while we both are hungry and have the tummy grumbles and could eat horses, and maybe cats or dogs if we lived in a culture that did that, I know that you don’t believe in the microwave, and freeze dried is definitely not…”
“Willow,” Tara smiled, “I just brought your cane and the morning paper to keep you busy while I cook.” After all the years shared and all the words listened to Tara never tired of hearing her love babble. She had also gotten very good at cutting off the steam of thought speech before it got out of control. ‘One of the many ways,’ she mused, ‘that we balance each other.’
“Thank you, baby.” Willow replied as she reached out for the paper. Tara knew how much her love prized information and obsessed about the news. It kept Willow engaged and informed about the world around her. Besides, if Willow didn’t read the paper each day she tended to complain the next morning about falling behind on her homework as if they were still in school. ‘Can’t have a slacker for a girlfriend,’ she thought fondly as her fingers brushed the palm of Willow’s hand as she released the rolled up newspaper.
Tara turned from the bed, exited the room and moved towards the kitchen. “Make something with lots of calories!” Willow yelled after her, “You’re going to need the energy from them later!”
Tara grinned. Once Willow started with the loving she was hard to stop, and Tara didn’t mind one bit.
__________________________________________
As Tara approached the bedroom door she heard Willow cry and mumble as she ripped the newspaper to shreds. “Goddess, why?” Willow cried as she continued to rip page after page of the morning paper apart.
Tara called out, “Willow? Darling? What is it?” as she reached the bedroom threshold. She froze just inside the room, taking in the sight of their normally clean floor covered by confetti.
“What is it, love? Are you in pain? Did you read something that upset you?” Tara questioned as she placed their lunch on the hope chest at the foot of the bed and moved further into the room.
Willow looked up from the destruction that was the morning paper and looked into Tara’s eyes. “Oh baby,” she cried, “It’s not what I read, it’s what I didn’t read.”
Tara had seen Willow frightened before, but this was something more, something deeper. “Willow,” she soothed as she move to sit on the edge of the bed, “Please tell me what’s wrong. Whatever it is we’ll face it together.”
Willow continued to look into Tara’s eyes as she held out the newspaper. “You want me to read this?” Tara asked as she accepted the page.
Willow shook her head and sobbed louder. She pointed at the page and shook her head. “You don’t want me to read this? I don’t understand. Love, why can’t you tell me what’s wrong?
“Because I don’t know what’s wrong, baby.” Willow gasped, “I only know that there’s not a word in this paper or on any page that I can read.”
Looking down at the page in her hand, Tara exclaimed “You can’t read the paper?” In response Willow began to cry louder and gestured to the room around her.
“It’s not just the newspaper, is it?” Tara realized as she looked around the room and noticed the open books laying on the floor and on the other side of the bed.
Willow sobbed and fell into Tara’s lap. “I can’t read. Tara, why can’t I read?” she mumbled as Tara began to run a hand through her hair.
“Calm down, Will, and we’ll think about this rationally.” Tara centered herself and began to focus outward as she rubbed Willow’s head. Creating a bubble of peace and clarity, she willed her girl to steady herself. Willow’s breathing began to slow as she relaxed into the touch of her love.
After a few moments Willow pulled herself out of Tara’s lap and into a seated position. “Rational thoughts sound good, Tare. What do you think is happening? Could it be a spell? Old enemies come for revenge? Should I grab the weapons and call the troops?”
Tara smiled for a moment and looked to Willow. ‘That’s my girl!’ she thought, as she reached out to take Willow’s hand. ‘Always able to find strength in humor.’ Bringing the hand to her lips she kissed the bent knuckles one by one.
Using her free hand to wipe her eyes clear Willow smirked and said, “Baby, I don’t think the oracle of the Monkey’s paw will tell you anything.” Tara continued to kiss the hand while tiling her head backwards. When she caught Willow’s eyes Tara rolled her own.
“OK, I know I’m a dummy, but I don’t know what else to say. What do you think could be causing this?” Willow sighed with a sound that sounded almost hopeful to Tara. “Do you think it’s a spell?”
“Will,” Tara replied as she straightened on the bed, “I don’t know of a witch or a warlock powerful enough to break down the protection spell that surrounds this house.” She shook her head to clear her thoughts. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but if the cause were supernatural I think we’d both be feeling the affects. It has to be something else.”
Willow closed her eyes. Looking inward she tried to discern a pattern over the past weeks that might enlighten her and explain what was happening and why. She started to remember and contextualize the memories. Phone messages taken, but not given to Tara. E-mails she was sure she had written to loved ones, only to find out she had not. Forgotten birthdays and deathdays. She always prized her powers of recall, even as people her age began to lose theirs. This was sudden, and frightening, and deep down, she knew there was nothing she could do that would stop what was going to happen.
“It is something else, Tara.”
Willow took a calming breathe and turned her held hand so that she could trace Tara’s palm with her fingers. Through glassy eyes she looked at the woman who had been her strength for 63 years, 48 days, 2 hours…Willow turned and tried to read the time on the bedside clock then frowned and thought, ‘However many minutes it’s been.’
Just as her finger’s found and began to trace the long life line that ran the length of Tara’s palm Willow turned back and looked into her lover’s eyes and said, “Baby, I think we need to take me to a doctor.”
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TARA: Willow and I always know how to find each other!
ANYA: With yoga?
[This message has been edited by Bobo's Mom (edited February 06, 2002).]
[This message has been edited by Bobo's Mom (edited February 07, 2002).]