alright, this is the second part. I only split them up because I thought the story would be too long for a single post, it has no plot significance.
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The second time, Willow woke up alone. She was slightly disappointed Tara hadn’t woken her up more thoroughly earlier; it seemed like a nice start for the day. She didn’t remember much of their conversation though; it had all been blurred up with sleepiness, and something about ducks that she couldn’t quite determine if it was a dream or reality.
Why was Tara up so early anyhow? She was usually such a late sleeper she had to choose between breakfast and her first class. “Besides,” Willow said aloud, noticing Miss Kitty Fantastico, who was sniffing her empty bowl sadly. “Something was totally up with her yesterday, with how she ran out…” She trailed off, worried that perhaps she had done something to upset Tara. That would completely explain the running part, considering how Tara was never much into confrontation. But what was it she had done?
“Did she think I was laughing at her, for how her spell went?” she asked Miss Kitty, but Miss Kitty didn’t answer.
Willow rolled in the bed and sank her head in the pillow they shared. Sometimes Tara seemed so fragile, and herself so careless. She sniffed Tara’s side of the pillow, craving for the faint aroma of Tara’s hair that always lingered in it. Somehow, her silky hair always smelled of a mixture of vanilla, raspberry, sandalwood and a little soap, as though Tara had just stepped out of a fragrant bath. God, she shouldn’t have been so reckless yesterday.
But the day had to get started sometime, and her stomach was making hungry noises already, so she got up and got dressed and glanced at her watch. 9:30. “Wow, late-ish,” she exclaimed to Miss Kitty. “Good thing no early classes today.” She noticed the note she had left last night was still by the phone. She threw it away and, by habit, wrote a new one.
“My Tinkerbelle,
Woke up and you weren’t here so I had to do the ritual morning smoochies all by myself… By the way, I swear to the Goddess I wasn’t laughing at your spell yesterday. Off to my room now, please please call me and we can have awkward girl talk instead of homework.
Love you love you love you
-Willow”She put the note in its usual place and scanned the room for her sandals. They were thrown carelessly on top of a big, open book. She picked them up guiltily. It was a silent agreement between Tara and herself that if either of them trashed a book, she would be made responsible for changing Miss Kitty’s litter box for all eternity. What was the thing doing open on the carpet anyway? It wasn’t like Tara to leave anything on the floor for people to trample on, and it wasn’t one Willow had been using lately. She finished putting on her sandals and picked the book up, flipping idly through the pages.
She had never seen it before, she realized. Strange, because she had read every book in Tara’s library five times over - Well, almost every book, except that horrible Harry Pothead or whatever Tara kept insisting was so adorable, but that didn’t count. She flipped the book close and read the fancy printing on the cover.
‘Araka Suap
Volume Five of the Nasata Gathering of Truth and Deception
Nine-Hundred-and-Second Year of the Birth of the Crucified’
Weird. She had never heard of it before. Her typical curiosity kicked in;
wonder if Tara’d mind if I flipped through it a little more thoroughly. Over breakfast, lets say. I’ll put it back in place later.Closing the door behind her with her heel and locking it offhandedly, she left Tara’s room and walked slowly to the cafeteria. The book smelled of oldness. Part of it was its leather binding, she decided, and part was dustiness. It was extremely heavy for its average size, and its pages were unusually thick and smelled funny all for themselves.
Parchment, she realized after a moment.
Well well… she smiled and flipped back to the first page.
‘Nasata A’at Utan Githt - stealing speech from the deceiver, sealing the lips of the dishonest…’ Below the stylish handwrite was the illustration of a woman’s lips, stitched together with a thick rough cord. “Eek!” she squealed and turned the page.
‘Nasata A’at Uoor Leigh - shackling the flesh with the illusion of fire…” The picture below that one showed a man turning his head in fear from his hands that were engulfed in violent flame and beginning to blister and blacken. She turned the page in disgust.
God, why would Tara carry something like this around? ‘Nasata A’at Tonva’nlip - True Mirror to reflect the soul of the beholder and reveal what larks within…’“… Get you anything?”
“S-sorry, what?” Willow looked up in confusion. She was standing in front of the cafeteria counter and the girl in the orange shirt was waiting to take her order. She looked impatient.
“I said, can I get you anything.”
“Uh…” Willow eyed the sandwiches in the glass case along the counter. None of them looked very yummy. “Uh…”
Suddenly someone elbowed her in the ribs, not very gently. “I’d take them pretzels if I were you,” he said in a friendly voice. It was a tall, tubby young man that stood to her left. “Sandwiches look like they been dead a week.”
She smiled uncomfortably, rubbing her side. “Yeah, they usually have been… its campus tradition.” His eyes looked familiar.
The guy smiled and nodded enthusiastically. He thumped on the counter twice and leaned towards the girl in the orange shirt. “A cheese pretzel for the lady!” he said loudly. “And a cup of coffee for myself, and, uh, one of those big brown cupcakes.”
Willow’s mouth opened in surprise. “Don’t-,” she started to say.
“Anything else, sir?” the girl in orange asked in boredom and strode briskly to the coffee machine.
“Nah,” he shook his head and reached in his pocket, and before Willow could stop him he had already handed the girl a crumpled five-dollar bill.
“You totally didn’t have to do that-“ Willow’s eyebrow climbed towards her hairline in annoyance.
That was completely uncalled for.
“Say I felt like it,” he smiled widely and slapped his hands against the counter again. “That’s how it’s done were I’m from, Red”
“I-I don’t, ah, thanks, but, uh, no thanks…” For a moment she was completely confused, but alert at the same time. He called her ‘Red’, like Faith did, long ago. Could he know her? Could she have sent him to find her and Buffy, harm them?
No, she calmed herself down; he was just being overly casual with her, that’s all. Faith was locked up somewhere far, far away, and hopefully that somewhere was cold and full of nasty things that bite. She turned to the clerk, composed again. “Hold the pretzel, please -”
“Sorry,” said the girl shortly and pushed a warm, brown paper bag into her hands. She turned to the guy and placed his order and change on the counter. “Four fifty, sir. Enjoy.”
The guy gestured for Willow to step out of the line of people waiting and balanced his coffee, cupcake and change in one hand as he stuck the other out for her to shake. “Donny” he said. “Pleased to buy you breakfast.” There was something about him that was just completely unpleasant, something about his gestures.
Well, time to make a really exity exit. “Uh, I’m Willow. Look, I’m kinda not into cheese lately and it would be super kind if you could uh, not be insulted if I like, uh, gave this back to-“
“That’s a big book you got there” he continued vibrantly, smiling. “Let me help,” he said, then simply reached out and pulled the
Araka Suap out of her careful grip.
“Hey!” she said in surprise. “Could you please no-“
“Ohh!” he hollered, loud enough to turn a head or two at their direction. “Looky here! Man, this looks like some witches book for spells or some shit!”
“A-actually, can I have that back please?” Who the hell was he, anyway?
“Easy there, I’m just looking. So, what, you like, a witch and crap? You do magic? Would you’d turn me into a frog if you didn’t like the pretzel?” He laughed in ridicule and pushed the book back into her hands.
“Look - Donny, right? - uh, nice meeting you, I gotta go now…”
“What, left a potion on the fire? Jeez, you cult sickos are all over the place, aren’t you.”
Willow’s mouth opened in disbelief. She nearly answered him, but him being twice her size and this not being the ideal crowd to defend her practice in front of made her decide a little differently.
“Look, have a nice day, dude” she said, turning from him and slipping quickly away. He kept laughing behind her as she walked off, but he didn’t follow her. Icky, she decided, superbly icky. What a freak.
“Hello?” said a heavily accented voice over the phone. Willow smiled in spite of herself; there was something about his British-ness that was just cute, even after all the time she’d known him.
“Hi Giles,” she said, falling lightly on Buffy’s bed in the small dorm they shared. The slayer was, unsurprisingly, gone. She had been studying almost all day, and fed up to her eyebrows with Greek poetry, had decided to take an unlimited break “What’s up?” she said.
“Oh, Willow, how nice to hear from you. How is your day treating you?”
“Umm, right now I’m just studying and, well, quiet, but this morning, weirdness. This creepy guy tried to hit on me. Jeez, I’ve been hit on by less icky vampires! And maybe a robot even. He was all like ‘pleased to buy you breakfast,’ and smug and then all of a sudden turned into this super fanatic witch hater weirdo -“
“Oh really?” He interrupted her babble, his voice slightly alarmed. “Any serious threats implied?”
“No, just jerkiness,” she shrugged without noticing. “But anyway, I wasn’t calling to rant. Have you by any chance seen Tara around the magic shop, or anywhere?”
“Tara?”
“Yeah, I, uh, seem to have misplaced my favorite witch. The last time I was her was around 5am.”
“Oh,
Tara, yes, of course,” his voice cleared in recognition. “I apologize; my head’s still spinning a little from yesterday. Yes, in fact I have seen her. She stopped by the shop today and picked up some ingredients, pretty serious ones. Are you two planning to take over the world?”
“Yeah,” smiled Willow. “It’s right after ‘kill Buffy with chainsaw’ on my to do list, why?”
“I really think the two of you should take it a little slower with the heavy spells.” He suddenly sounded serious. “I do appreciate you devotion, and certainly Tara’s, being such a recent addition to the group and all, but magic is delicate business. Perhaps you should slow down a bit in your new, uh…”
“Practice?” she offered.
“Infatuation,” he finished. “Energies tend to be a little harder to control when intense emotions are involved. I believe you remember that from the last time you cast a spell over a relationship.”
“That’s a little different,” Willow smiled grimly to herself. “See, I was a smoking pile of ruins then. But, hey! Over that now and totally balanced! Happy balanced, too, I might add.”
“I am actually very happy to hear that,” He said, his voice filled with sudden warmth.
“I know, Giles”
“So, I’ll be seeing you around then, humm?”
“Umm, Giles,” a thought suddenly crept into her mind. “Have you ever heard of something called the ‘
Nasata Gathering of Truth and Deception’?”
“The Araka Suap?”
“Yeah-“
“Yes, I have, it’s a four-volume collection of tiny spells concerning truth and, well, deception. Far below your level, more along the lines of making someone think you have purple eyes and such.”
“Not five volumes?” she sat up, reaching for the book to have another look at it’s cover. “Are you sure you just didn’t lend your fifth a while ago and forgot?”
“I’m rather certain it’s four, and besides, they’re from around Nine-Hundred AD, I would have to be a millionaire to have any of them around,” he chuckled. “They’re a collector’s item. Why are you asking, have you come across one?”
“N-no,” said Willow, baffled. The thick leather cover still read ‘
Volume Five’ in block letters. “Just something claiming to be the fifth… it’s probably just a hoax anyway, it’s all leathery and fancy, like,
trying to look old and stuff.”
“I’d still like to have a look at it,” he said curiously. “If you don’t mind”
“Ask Tara,” Willow answered distractedly.
May the strangeness alarms go off and the games begin. “It’s hers. Oh, speaking of, I think I have a call waiting, could you hold on a sec?”
“How do you know?” his voice carried the hint of a smile.
“That there’s a call waiting? There’s this little beeping sound-“
“No, that it’s Tara”
“Oh, I, well,” she paused for a second. “Wild guess?”
“Hello?”
“Wi-willow. hi,” Tara’s voice sounded small over the phone.
“Tara, Hi!” the redhead grinned and rose to her elbows. “All day no hear, how are you?”
“G-good, I think. I-I, ah…” stuttered the Wiccan, the remnants of a long cry clear in her voice.
Willow’s brow arched in worry. “Are you ok? You sound pretty throaty, like you’ve been c-“
“I’m fine, r-really,” she reassured quickly. “W-would you like to do a spell w-with me, uh, t-today?” A touch of urgency crept into her words.
“Like right now?” Willow glanced at her wristwatch. 3:30pm. God, she’d been studying for over three hours now, since she had returned to her room. “Um, yeah, Tara, that’ll be awesome, I think... Are you sure you ok, sweetie?”
“…I-I’m f-f-fine,” said Tara finally, sounding the exact opposite. “I, umm, Willow?”
“Yeah, Tara?” she asked attentively.
“I-I love you.”
“Tara, I love you too…” Replied Willow softly, a little wave of warmth washing through her. “And I’m so bringing Haägen Dazs.”
“S-see you soon?”
“Half an hour, tops,” said Willow, trying her best to sound reassuring. “Give my love to Miss Kitty.”
“T-thanks,” said Tara, sounding genuinely relieved. “Bye”
“B-“ Willow had begun to say, but then the line went dead. “…Oh,” she exhaled, then pressed the Flash button.
“Yeah, Giles, I’m back”
“Oh, alright,” the librarian replied, sounding slightly surprised in that English way of his. “Was that indeed Tara?”
“Yup. And she sounded kinda upset, so, I’ll be going now”
“Anything in particular?”
“No, not that I know of,” Willow sank back down on the bed. “I guess she just had a crappy day or something. Anyway, thanks Giles, see ya”
“Yes, Goodbye Willow. Just, be careful with the spells?”
“Of course we will”
“Good luck then, with the, well,” she could hear him smile. “With the, consulting.”
“Giles!” she yelped.
“What?”
“Sometimes you-“ she began to say, then realized he had really intended no teasing. “Oh, never mind, I forgot how middle aged and British you were and had somehow mistaken you for Xander”
“And everything is alright, other than that?” he chuckled.
“K, yeah, my bad. Bye Giles.”
“Goodbye, Willow,” he said affectionately.
Willow tried desperately to handle the freezing cup of ice-cream, the fifth, and apparently illegitimate, volume of
Araka Suapi, and the door knob of Tara’s room all with just one pair of hands. She was on the brink of success when the brown door swung open from the inside, revealing an astonishingly beautiful Tara in a light green shirt and blue corduroy pants. The book hit the ground with a slight thud, and the ice cream nearly followed.
“Willow,” smiled Tara as she picked up the
Araka Suap. “I was sorta wondering where that went…” there was something edgy about her voice, contradicting the perfection of her appearance.
“I kinda found it on your floor this morning and got majorly curious, so I… uh, took it without permission?”
“T-that’s ok, I think. You really got ice cream, wow, cool.” She nodded in that superbly cute way of hers.
“Cookie cough flavor. So, are you alright really? Your eyes are kinda reddish and-“
“I’m fine,” said the blond witch, suddenly looking very interested in her sandals. “I, I uh, m-ma-made some l-little changes.”
“Really?” Willow smiled cheerfully, but something smelled wrong to her. Tara reeked of nervousness. “What?”
“C-come inside…” she gestured and flashed a little smile, then stepped back and allowed Willow to pass through the doorway.
The room was lit with at least thirty candles; festive, colorful kind. Willow recognized most of them; she had helped pick them out sometime in the past. Along with Tara’s Christmas lights the whole room seemed to just glow. The shutters were closed, but no stuffiness was in the air, just a sweet mixture of sandalwood incense, combined with Tara’s ever-elusive raspberry scent. In the center of the room, drawn in sparkling silver powder was a perfectly symmetrical pentagram within a circle of candles.
“Tara, oh my god, that must’ve taken hours to prepare…” said Willow, startled. It was amazing, like something out of a movie or a comic book.
“To help us concentrate. I just noticed… you get a lot out of atmosphere.”
“This is so cool, Tara, it’s like this whole other world magical thingy and its perfect -”
“I’m glad you l-like it”, she replied, thumbing the tips of the book’s cover as she spoke. Suddenly Willow noticed how high and tense she held her shoulders, how jumpy she was in her gestures and expressions. She was about as calm as an avalanche.
“Tara,” Willow slipped easily next to the Wiccan and wrapped her hands around her waist, ice cream and all. “I missed you today… I was kinda worried, with yesterday and the spell you did with the mirror that went wrong and…”
“It’s nothing,” Tara hardened against her embrace. “All good now. I-I don’t feel like explaining”
Willow didn’t answer. She just landed a soft, lingering kiss on the curve of Tara’s neck. Sometimes it seemed like she was playing a game with Tara against Tara, or perhaps a battle. It seemed that no matter what was it the blond Wiccan wanted to do or say or feel, there was always this part of her that bound her, cuffed her to herself. It was as if she was always looking over her shoulder, to get someone’s approval.
“I-I need your help, Willow…” she said suddenly in a quick, apologetic tone. “This spell, for us, it’ll be big, but I-I really need you to do it with me. I really need you. To h-help me get c-control of things”
“What things?”
“The safety, of us.”
“Tara, you’re not making much sense,” said Willow, stepping aside to put the ice cream on a candle-free spot of the table. What the heck is this about?
“Please?” Tara caught her gaze. Her pale blue eyes were wide and pleading, fearful like Willow had never seen them before.
“All righty. Like I said, no biggy, spell, sure. Is it something out of that book?”
“No.” Tara smiled thankfully and quickly set the book aside. She reached for Willow’s hands and they stepped into the pentagram, facing each other. Tara flashed a short grin and positioned their palms so they rested in front of each other but did not touch. Apparently she wasn’t going to explain much, as she started the ceremony immediately and nodded for Willow to close her eyes. After the usual introduction she began talking, at first just a mumbled whisper, but slowly her voice grew strong enough to make out the words.
“…- thus I call upon thee, the Iron Maiden, the Prison of Hearts. Thy Hand be guided into my mouth, my throat, my blood, to where my soul rests within my flesh. Hear my call, oh Master of Slaves, and make my soul a slave to my beloved. May she hold my breath in her palm, my mind in her grasp for all length of life in this body. Mighty One, shackle me to my love...” It’s probably just a presentation of sorts, thought Willow,
couldn’t be the spell itself, just a bunch of big words to get the deity listening, right? Wait, what deity did Tara say she - we - were contacting? Something didn’t feel right.
Willow opened her eyes, just in time to see Tara kneeling carefully. She started to do the same, but Tara gestured vigorously for her to remain on her feet. As she watched, the blond witch picked up a bowl and a small metal hairpin, still speaking softly. To Willow’s astonishment she drove the small, sharp pin into her index finger, so deep that the first few drops soon became a steady drizzle. She held the bleeding finger carefully over the bowl, letting the crimson drops fall on its contents. Slowly she lowered her hand and began stirring the mixture. Willow felt a slight nausea climbing in her throat. What was she doing?
Suddenly Tara looked up, fixing her big blue eyes on Willow’s.
“
My mouth…” she said softly, lifting her hand from the bowl and smearing the thick blend on her lower lip.
“
My breath…” her hand continued downwards, leaving a darkish trail on her throat. Around it her skin went red, as though it had an allergic reaction of sorts.
“
My heart…” Tara’s hand slipped into the cleavage of her dress. Willow could swear the dark streak she was drawing had begun to quiver on her skin, almost move along it. It seemed to be spinning around itself, like a rope tightening, binding itself. Suddenly Tara jerked her hand up, stained with bloody ointment and trembling, and pointed at Willow.
“
My love…” she said, reaching to press her palm against the other witch’s.
Willow shivered involuntarily. “Ta-Tara, what kind of spell is this?” she asked sharply. The thread around Tara’s neck was now definitely moving, growing, wrapping around her like a vine. A small blister appeared suddenly on her hand like a burn.
“Tara, what are you doing!”
Tara parted her lips to speak, and a thin line of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. “A b-bonding spell, Willow” she said and reached her hand up a little further.
Willow threw herself out of the circle, knocking a candle over and smearing the sparkly dust that drew the pentagram as she went.
Breaking a circle is a bad idea.
The pain came instant and sharp to them both. Willow couldn’t breathe. It felt like she was burning, melting, breaking. A terrible sense of tearing, of loss, filled her to the edges of her consciousness. To Tara, it felt like having her arm ripped off. The circle screamed in her ears, wailing and screeching in its destruction.
And then it was over, and for a moment, silent.
“Tara!” Willow leaned her back against the wall, panting, furious. “What the hell were you doing?! God, a binding spell! Are you insane? Are you trying to get us both killed? Or worse, slaves to some evil thing, that, damn, Tara, what is wrong with you! What, you’re some demon worshiper that you’re trying to chain us both to god-knows-what, and with
blood!“
“N-no, Willow,” tears shimmered suddenly on Tara’s face, but the darkened vines were gone; now there were just smears on her neck. “I wasn’t trying to chain us to anything… just us, I m-mean, each other, I didn’t mean to-“
“God, were you trying to tie us up together?” the nausea came back, climbing up Willow’s throat. “Oh my…
Shit, Tara, what were you trying to do, make us unable to live apart from each other? Why on earth would you? Tara, that’s sick…” her anger suddenly winded out, but Tara couldn’t make out what replaced it as Willow went on. “I-I trusted you, Tara, with the magic. Was that all… were you trying to rope me up so I wouldn’t leave?”
“W-Willow, no, th-there wasn’t gonna be any roping on your side, I’d never try to tie you down-”
“Then what!”
“It-it was a one-way binding spell, supposed to be. To-to put me in y-your… my s-soul and my heart in your h-hands”
Silent for a moment, Willow stared at her. “But Tara, why would you ever want to be my
slave?”
The blue eyes widened. “It would be better,” said the blond witch slowly as she got up, “if you had the power to make my heart stop beating just by wanting it to.”
“What do you mean, Tara?” asked Willow in sudden panic. Tears welled up in her eyes with shock from and they trickled, warm and unstoppable down her cheeks. Something was so, so wrong with Tara. “God, what is
happening!?”
“I need to go now, Willow. Y-you can stay, I’ll clean up here later,” she turned and walked to the door.
“Wait! Where are you going? Tara, why would it be better? Tara, listen…”
For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, Tara was running.
She hadn’t finished the spell. Now there was nothing to prevent her from turning into the gruesome monster her father had foreseen. She had just single handedly destroyed her only chance not to turn and now it was all too obvious what will happen. Her family would show up sometime soon and take her away, and once she was by herself, apart from Willow, she would indeed turn into the demon they had always claimed she was. By herself, she wouldn’t be able to resist them; she would hardly try.
And she was by herself, because things were so clearly over with Willow as well. Tara recognized the anger and spite in the redhead’s voice; it was the sharp and abrupt end of whatever trust Willow had in her, whatever love they had shared. The redhead would never again let Tara within a mile from her, and rightly so. Tara had lied, had tried to trick her and dump the responsibility for her contaminated soul on Willow’s thin, undeserving shoulders. It was over, and Tara only had one person to blame.
She didn’t want to think anymore, didn’t want to understand what she had just done. Why couldn’t her thoughts be an endless train of OhmygodsOhmygodsOhmygods, like a cheap soundtrack that fell in unison with her footsteps, why couldn’t she just run blindfold?
Oh Goddess, I am running blindfolded, I have always been running blindfolded.Her feet came to a halt of their own volition.
Had she even bothered to give Willow one word of explanation or asked for one word of advise? No, she hadn’t, only raced from one wild conclusion to the next, never consulting with the woman she loved, the woman she decided had saved her soul.
Well, three cheers for you, Tara; three fucking cheers and the award for best handled terminal crisis ever. She leaned wryly against the dorm wall, burying her face in her hand as she battled a hysterical fit of laughter.
A moment later she detached herself from the wall and began to walk slowly back, her eyes glittering and reddened, but not tearing anymore. She moved in quiet conviction, holding herself by a single thread of thought as Willow deserved to know the truth, she decided;
the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me Goddess. Regardless of whether they could ever be close again after that truth is told, regardless of the open pit in her stomach. The damage had already been done; the least she could do was be honest.
Soon she was back by the room, rehearsing what she was to say. ‘
Willow, I have something to tell you. Actually, I should have told you ages ago, but I was busy being stupid.’ She folded her hands together in nervousness. ‘
Willow, I’m sorry for what I tried to do to you earlier. I need to explain everything; I need you to listen. I’m sorry, but…’
“I’m sorry, but you just missed her.” Willow’s voice came suddenly from across the wall. Tara, who was now standing right outside the room, stopped cold and listened. She had not imagined there would be somebody else in there.
“Oh, can you tell me where she went?” an all-too-familiar voice answered.
“N-no, actually, I was just… should I tell her you were looking for her, Mister…?”
“McClay. I’m Tara’s father.”
“Oh, right.” There was a slight pause. “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you need her for?”
“I’m afraid that’s private, and urgent. Where exactly did you say you know Tara from?”
Oh dear; Tara bit her lip.
Please don’t tell him, please don’t.
“W-we work together. But, uh, we’re pretty close… friends. I would really like to know, I mean, so I could help. We spend a lot of time together.”
“Tara,” Mr. McClay’s voice was patient, compassionate. Tara leaned closer to the open door, trying to catch every word of explanation. “Tara isn’t well. She has a problem that needs
special care, I’m sure you catch my drift. We’re here to take her home. I’m not surprised she didn’t tell you; it’s in the nature of her disease.”
“She needs psychiatric care? Oh, I had no idea-” Willow had begun to say, but suddenly her tone changed completely. “Please don’t touch that. I mean, it’s Tara’s and she doesn’t appreciate…”
“I know that book!” Donny’s voice suddenly joined the conversation in a sharp cry. “And I know you, too! You’re that freak from this morning, in the cafeteria! Dad, I know this gal, she’s one of those
witches.” His voice was full of spite.
“Are you sure, son?” Mr. McClay’s tone was suddenly ice cold.
“Damn sure, Dad! Just look at the guilty face on her right now, and
ho-ho-holy shit look at the floor! For fuck’s sake! Oh girly, I know exactly what ‘work’ you and my sister do together…”
“Hey!” Came Willow’s high-pitched answer. She sounded much closer to the door now. “Look, I don’t know-”
“Where do you think you’re going?” Donny went suddenly quiet, dangerous.
“Take your hands off me!”
Tara gasped as she caught the first sounds of a struggle. Suddenly she was furious, all her hesitations vaporizing in a heartbeat. Without wasting another second she burst in the door, catching the gruesome sight of her brother grabbing Willow powerfully from behind, his arm wrapped dangerously on her throat. Her father was simply standing two feet off, his arms crossed on his chest.
“Let her go!” demanded Tara, her hands clenching to fists and rising half way up her body. She had never in her life felt so enraged. What were they
thinking? Did they just assume they had the right to come in here and do as they pleased, to harm Willow?
“Tara” her father’s voice was quiet, but hard as a rock. “You need to learn your lesson, girl. This, this
friend of yours here, I don’t know what she is or where she came from, but this abomination stops right now.” As though to emphasize, Donny’s arm tightened a little around the struggling redhead, who whimpered in pain.
“Let her go, right now, or I’ll-“ Tara was so angry she could hardly speak. Heat was building in her cheeks, creating an unbearable tension at her chest. She had never felt so unstoppable. If there was ever a demon in her, it was seconds from coming out. “I swear you’ll be sorry-”
“Shush!” Mr. McClay snapped. He didn’t waver at her threat, his eyes burning in icy blue as he carried on his own speech “You will be quiet. I have allowed you far too much freedom to engage in whatever filth y…”
But Tara didn’t even hear the rest of it.
Why wasn’t he afraid? The question rang sharply in her ears. He had always told her anger was her catalyst, that the moment she lost control and let rage into her was the moment she would turn demon. Well, he had never seen her more angry in his life, and yet he wasn’t alarmed, he wasn’t scared.
Because there was nothing to be scared of, she suddenly realized. She was three days away from being twenty years old, mad as hell, and still
perfectly human.
Liar, liar, liar; she screamed in her head. She wanted to beat him, to kill him with her bare hands. And to think that she had already surrendered, had already gave up and decided to go back with him.
But first she had to get Willow out of danger, and she could only see one, one insane way to do it.
There’s no reason this will work, she thought as her hand reached into the back pocket of her pants. No reason at all, and no way she could face the consequences if it failed, but soon enough her fingers found and grabbed the small bottle she had been carrying with her for as long as she could remember. She’d never imagined she’d use it like this, not in a thousand years.
“Take your hands off of her, Donny,” said Tara in a clear, strong voice as she raised her hand, holding a small glass bottle. Her grasp was shaky, causing the dark brown fluid to quiver slightly.
“…What in the Lord’s name is that?” demanded her father. She had not even noticed he had still been talking up to now.
“Something” Tara hesitated, knowing the impact her answer would have. “Something mom taught me how to do. If this bottle brakes, this whole room turns into powder and ashes.”
There was a sudden silence in the room as they stared at her; her brother and father in fear, Willow in astonishment.
“You’re bluffing,” said Donny, but even he didn’t look like he believed himself.
“No, I’m not,” said the tall Wiccan harshly, knowing the safety of her girlfriend depended on how much courage she could muster. Her hand still held up, she turned to her father.
“Get out of here. Both of you, right now, Or I’m blowing us all to shreds. Do not try me, dad, Donny, because if anything happens to
her I don’t care the slightest about the rest of you. Trust me, we’ll all die.” She felt a chill run down her spine, realizing how insane she sounded. But it was true, every word.
Suddenly Donny slackened his grip, dropping the surprised redhead who crashed, choking, onto her knees. He hardly waited before striding briskly through the small room, only delaying long enough for Tara to step out of the doorway. Then He was gone.
Mr. McClay glared at them both, his fists clenched tightly by his sides. “This,” he hissed at his daughter, “Is not the end of it.”
“Oh, Yes it is,” lashed Tara, unable to recognize his somewhat spiteful surrender. “
Go.”
For a second, just a split second, she thought she had gone too far; the look in his eyes was something beyond rage, hardly on the verge of sanity at all. But in an instant it was gone again; he only gritted his teeth, glared at Willow, and stomped his way out into the hall.
Tara nearly fell off her feet. She surely would have, if it weren’t for Willow’s strong, supporting arms that appeared suddenly around her. The small bottle slipped from her grasp, hitting the ground with a little tapping sound.
For the first time in her life, she did not run.
Instead, dizzy and exhausted, too shocked to speak or even move, she fell into the tight embrace of the woman she loved. They stood together in silence, clinging as tightly as their bodies would allow, half way leaning on each other, half way holding each other up. There would be plenty of time later to explain everything, Tara was certain.
“Umm…” said Willow after the longest time, her voice quiet and careful. They finally parted slightly, just enough to create eye contact. “Tara… just one little question, alright? Uh, what the heck was in that bottle?”
“Oh!” a wild grin spread across the Wiccan’s face. She quickly picked up the small glass bottle, which had been laying at their feet. She offered it to Willow, who handled it gingerly.
“Vanilla extract,” grinned Tara. “It’s my favorite perfume.”
END
Edited by: Mrs Vertigo at: 7/22/02 3:09:05 pm
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I was like "nooooo, don't do i t!", when Tara told her stupid dad, where she was hiding. 
