Title of the Story - Vanilla Extract
Author – Mrs. Vertigo
Email - avitalkeshet@hotmail.com
Website - none, sorry
Rating - PG13 (the occasional language)
Type - drama (?)
Violence - slightly implicated once
Pairing - the usual (W/T)
Spoilers - about Tara’s family for those who hadn’t seen the episode “Family” in season five
Disclaimers - Joss Whedon, ME, blah blah blah, (you know them all) owns all characters involved. I’m just a juvenile delinquent.
Feedback - I’d greatly appreciate it. Please send any to the email address listed above.
Distribution - go ahead, just let me know first
Summery - a different version to Tara’s confrontation with her family
Author’s Note - Thanks heaps and heaps to my Betas, Ruth and Malea, you’re the greatest. Without you this wouldn't be half as good
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Tara squinted at the mirror, until her pale eyelids covered nearly all her she could see. She loosened the muscles; squinted again.
The same.
The same tired looking, watery eyes, same ridiculously large lips, same graceless jaw line. My face just calls out weakness, she thought; spells it.
But that’s about to change… hum?
She traced herself in the mirror, merciless. She might hate herself in almost any sort of outfit, but in the nude her self-dismissal took her one step further, making her squirm with nausea. Tubby, shapeless, much too tall, this was the body she had been dragging around since childhood. She crossed her arms uncomfortably on her chest, in a pointless attempt to feel less exposed. Except now, hiding what she had always thought to be the largest indication of femininity, she found it difficult to see herself as anything more than an overgrown child.
No, she corrected herself quickly, perhaps a caterpillar, perhaps a larva, perhaps a chick. But not a child, not a human… for long.
She frowned, moving her eyes from the dissatisfying reflection. Why did the damn ceremony have to be done naked, anyway? It always seemed like the spells were written by a bunch of horny adolescent Dungeons and Dragons addicts, the pizza delivery guy type, with full moons and ceremonies in the nude and chanting in dark forests while the-gods-knows-what is crawling in your hair. Tara’s lip twitched a little. Well, at least this was a warm dorm room, and the dimness of due to her closing the shutters earlier, long before removing any clothes.
She dipped the long, gentle brush into the henna cup she was holding. She painted a single rune on the smooth mirror, a drop of the greenish mixture trickling down the glass. Now that, she thought, will never come off. She continued to the next rune, her face a mask of concentration. Three runes, then four, then six. She glanced over her shoulder at the textbook laid open on the bed, and started chanting softly.
“True mirror, blessed gift,” she sang quietly in her shy alto voice. Ten, then twelve runes, circled along the oval mirror like a clock, but she was so nervous she didn’t even notice their symmetry.
“Water, air, reflection bath…”
For the most dangerous part she used one of Willow’s hairpins. It was extremely sharp and drew blood on the first attempt. Tara cringed inwardly, not so much at the slight pain as at the thought of using the liquid for a spell. Still singing quietly, she ran the wounded finger along her lips as though it were lipstick.
“Most faithful mirror, fearless I am…”
She leaned forward, strands of brownish gold hair hanging loosely before her eyes.
“…I seek my true reflection”
She kissed the cold glass.
A blast of scorching white light shot through her head. She was hurled across the room like a rag doll, smacking the thin dorm room wall with a scream. Black dots circled before her eyes, her head hurt as though a truck had smashed into it.
Then something was pulling her, pushing her, shoving and throwing her back onto her feet. Violent light still penetrated her head like a dagger, enabling no escape, no retreat even when she sheltered her face with her hands. Even her closed eyelids were an excruciating white. She shook her head forcefully, realizing how horribly the spell had gone wrong. Stupid, stupid idea! She thought in panic. That’s it, I’m toast, the spell’s gone wrong and I’m gonna d-
Suddenly there was darkness. Soft, comforting, normal darkness. Tara slowly opened her aching eyes to find the henna runes still shimmering gently on the large mirror. Is that it, she wondered, no more explosions? Oh Goddess, that blast must’ve torn the room apart. She turned her head to have a look at the ruins that were her uninsured dorm room.
Bright whiteness erupted in her face again, hitting her like a fist. She jerked her head away from the light, back to that one spot in the room that was tolerable.
The henna runes shimmered like oil stains on a wet sidewalk. Slowly they began to shift and circle on the mirror. Tara, now understanding she was forbidden to look anywhere else, watched in silence. The runes swirled a little faster, and for a second seemed to almost float off the surface of the mirror, but then they slowed down and settled back. If she had memorized them earlier, she would’ve realized they had somehow been reorganized.
This was, she thought, the moment of truth. Time to finally see for myself what Daddy always said was there. Time to see what sort of cocooned abomination I am, to see the beast I’ll turn to when I’m twenty; the beast that mother really was.
Her blood-coated lip trembled. She was terrified and disgusted, but at the same time, strangely excited. All her life she had been weak, but the evil her father spoke of always carried the promise of power. Along with the terrible knowledge of her filthiness came the thought that maybe, just maybe, she’d be strong for once. In fact, with the threat of having to leave Willow hanging over her like a guillotine, it was the only thing that made her brave enough to look up and find out. And so, Tara looked up, at her Truest Mirror.
And Tara stared back.
A soft, tall young woman gazed back at her from the glass. Her eyes were big with fear, with disbelief. Tara stepped closer and so did her reflection, timid, graceful, but pale more than anything else. As Tara reached out to touch it, a gentle hand was pressed against the mirror to match her own.
She was about to call it quits; declare the spell a failure and say the words that would end the spell. There was nothing here she hadn’t seen every morning. Indeed, she noted to herself, I have once again proven why spell casting should be a license requiring practice. Tears of disappointment clogged her throat and burned slightly in her eyes. And then, she suddenly noticed the reflection’s eyes were burning too, quite visibly so.
They were beautiful. They glittered, sparkled and glowed with a blue-ish aura that kept shifting and changing. Something danced and flickered in the depths of those blue bathed eyes. Something that appeared fiery and reddish. She looked deeper.
The red was not red at all, it was actually a vivid orange, but it seemed to burn red. She gasped as it slowly took form, molded into something she could so clearly recognize. Strands of shining copper hair playing by skin, a soft curve of the jaw line… lips, smiling shyly, lively… Willow lips.
Suddenly she heard the door opening. Her head turned instinctually.
As soon as her eyes left the surface of the glass and the runes, everything turned into white-hot pain. Light exploded in her face even worse than before, sending her screaming across the air. Choking, nearly crying, she yelled the words that freed her of the incantation and crashed onto her knees.
She tried to stand or at least sit up, but suddenly someone was there, helping, half lifting her. It was Willow, who wasn’t even supposed to be back until after her six o’clock drama class. When Tara couldn’t rightly stand on her suddenly powerless feet, the redhead simply hefted her up and carried her to the bed, demonstrating an amazing amount of strength for her small body.
“Tara”, she said urgently, as the blonde quickly reached for the covers, her voice sounding as loud as a siren to Tara’s battered ears. She scanned the room quickly, her hands ready to deal with her girlfriend’s would be attacker. “Tara, you ok? What happened - did anybody, did someone, I mean, do anything, Tara-” suddenly her voice went quiet. “Tara… are you… ok?”
Tara’s head was still spinning, but shame was building up inside her, making it harder to speak. “I’m fine, W-wi-llow, I-I…”
“Was there anybody here? What happened?”
“I-I cast a spell that w-went wrong…” Tara answered shyly, quickly averted her head so as not to make eye contact. She waited for the spite to come into Willow’s voice.
Suddenly Willow was giggling and hugging her. “What the heck kinda spell was it? And hey, how come you never let me help with the, humm, naked spells?”
“It was a-a, well, I don’t do all that much nakedness, I mean…” the shame melted away, replaced by something else entirely.
“Actually, I don’t mind the nakedness part, Tara,” said Willow, reaching out to brush her blond messy hair.
But suddenly the intimacy was too much for Tara. She needed to think, she needed out. Dodging Willow’s hand, she hugged the colorful quilt tightly and rolled off the bed. Her clothes were where she had left them, piled on a chair, and by the time Willow walked up to her she was already half dressed.
“Tara? What -“, but it was too late, she had already run out the door.
Outside the tears came like a landslide. Grabbing her jacket tightly, Tara ran and ran until she had completely left the campus compounds behind. She didn’t understand. Why couldn’t I see the demon? Goddess, why was Willow there? Is it that I’m some kind of soul-thieving demon, that I dragged her into this? What the hell am I!
Her mind, it seemed, was racing right along with her, through campus, through the parking lots, but also galloping towards something else, because upset as she was, she wasn’t stupid. As she ran, she could clearly see through the tears and hear through the wind’s wind’s whistling in her ears.
Tara, my sweet, you can’t leave me. It’s dangerous… no, no, not for you, silly, for all the others. You think you can have anything out there? Tara, there’s nothing you could have anywhere. We’re the only ones you got; you’ll ruin everything else you touch. You’ll be just like your mother, Tara, just like your mother. An abomination, Tara, a spawn of evil. You already are, scheming to leave like that. Who’s been taking care of you all this time, Tara? Who loves you even though everything you are? My baby, you can’t leave here, you owe us so much…
Her Father’s face floated in her mind, its expression hard as rock, but his voice soft and caring. She remembered it clearly, just as clearly as she remembered the beating that preceded the speech, and the daring escape attempt that preceded the beating. She was only twelve when she did it; ran from the house to the garden, where she pretended to just wander around for a while, then to the tool shed, then to the road. She caught an unlucky ride with her brother’s friend, who saw the blush of excitement in her cheeks and cajoled her into spilling everything. He smiled, commended her for her bravery, then turned the car around with one wild spin of the wheel and raced all the short way back to the house.
Hey there Teddy, whacha doin’ down here so late, aint you having dinner with your old man? What surprise, whacha got there? Hey! Tara! What the hell are you doing in there! Get your fat ass out of that truck right fucking now! … hey, I’m sorry Teddy, girl doesn’t know her place in the world yet. I said get over here, get in the damn house …Hitchhiking, you say, Teddy? Well, Tara-toots, Dad’s gonna kill you when he hears about this… If I don’t kill you first. Thanks for dropping her by, pal… see ya around…
But Tara wasn’t stupid or ignorant in her practice. Her True Mirror showed no demon; instead it glowed with Willow’s reflection. The sweet, loving redhead had driven the filth out of Tara, replaced it with her healing presence. She was the key, the cure, the answer.
And they didn’t have to break me like that.
For the first time in eons, anger crept into Tara. She slowed down, breathing as though she had never tasted air and clutching her fists tightly. Her mouth twitched in disgust. They didn’t have to jail her, tame her and bend her to their will from the day her mother died to the day she finely escaped her town in favor of the far-off UC Sunnydale.
For a moment she just stood there, marveling the fraud her childhood had been. But within a moment her hands were already scanning frantically through her pockets for a quarter. What she was about to do wasn’t anything she would’ve thought of under any other circumstances, but her rage fueled her, fed her. She picked up the black receiver and dialed the numbers she had tried so hard to forget, her fingers surprisingly fast and sure.
“Heyllo?” came a young man’s voice over the phone. “What can I do for ya?”
“Donny,” she said harshly. “Give me Da - uh, let me speak to your father.”
“Okie… just a sec… who is it?” her brother inquired distractedly.
Tara leaned her head against the orange metal of the payphone, suppressing her rage enough so not to scream at him. She wanted to ask him if he remembered the last time he beat her, just a day or so before she ran off. But instead she just answered him tiredly, “ Guess, Donny.”
The line went silent of for a while.
“Tara?” he yelled, “where the hell are you!?” Then his voice went muffled with distance. “Dad! Hey, Dad, Tara’s on the goddamn phone…”
He spoke into the receiver again, grumbling. “ So fucking nice to hear from you, sis! Ya know, I was just thinking - you got, what, three days till you’re twenty? ‘Fore you turn? I knew you’d chicken out just in time, drama queen, but the way you ran off, hey, almost made me think you had some guts instead of pure chicken shit-…”
“Donny, just… God, just shut up, ok?” She didn’t want to waste any more time on his blabber.
“Hey,” his voice hardened suddenly. “You better watch your fucking mouth, Tara -”
“Tara! Thank goodness”, her father’s voice panted suddenly over the phone. “You’ve been gone a long time, kiddo.”
“Dad-…” she started, but he stopped her cold.
“Where are you? We’ll be there in half an hour, my dear, so pack up, you’re coming home. Have you hurt anyone yet, Tara? Is it coming out? You should be ashamed of yourself, disappearing like this-…”
“Shut - just shut up!” She clenched her teeth in anger, letting all her bitterness show in her voice. “I didn’t call so I could have you rant on me to death.”
He paused. “How do you dare speak to me like that, young lady.”
“You lied to me,” she stated coldly, matter-of-factly. “I’m not turning demon. You’ve lied to me for the last fifteen years.”
“Tara -“
“You want to know how I found out? I did this spell, one little miserable spell and - “
“You have no shame, now, do you?” he spoke slowly, scornfully.
“I’m not turning demon, Dad!” she almost screamed. ”Are you even listening to me? Have you ever stopped to think that maybe there was a better solution for me than what you and Donny did? Oh no, you were just so wrapped up with mom losing it -“
“You think her dirty magic will get you out of this?” he snapped. She was hitting below the belt, nobody ever mentioned mom.
She shifted her weight uncomfortably. “The fact is I’m cured,” she finished dryly.
“The fact is you’re a lying, black-hearted snake, Tara, and I don’t want to hear another word about it. Now you tell me exactly where you are and your brother will come and pick you up as soon as he can get there.”
The disgust in his voice surprised her. “I’m fine now, where I am. There’s no need for me to come home. I’ve got a life here, Dad.”
“You’re fine? Look at you, calling out of the blue and screaming obscenities. This isn’t the upbringing I’ve given any my children This isn’t no upbringing I gave a child of mine. Running off on the people who love you without saying ten words about where you’ll be or what you’ll do. You need to be with people who can take care of your problem and -”
“Y-you’re twisting things up -“
“Your heart is black, Tara, I know you. You might not have turned inhuman in body yet, but you’ve always had a black soul. Don’t make me tell you what kind child you were, Tara; it breaks my heart to say those words.”
That hit a nerve. “I-I don’t think … dad, please, listen, the spell…”
“It’s magic that turned your mother evil in the first place, Tara, don’t think you can fight fire with fire. Where are you? Don’t waste anymore time, Tara, god knows what you can do.”
“D-dad-“
“Where!” He roared.
“Sunny-da-dale University,” she cringed. He wouldn’t come take her home, not really. He wouldn’t do that to her.
“I can’t believe you did that to us, Tara. Jesus, it’ll take more than five hours to drive down there. Well, I don’t know if I can send your brother alone on such a road trip.” He lingered on the words ‘road trip’ as though they left a foul taste in his mouth. “I suppose I’ll have to come myself. Well, I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon.”
“D-dad, I have th-things to…” Tara stuttered. Her mouth just didn’t work. All her previous rationalizations had dissolved, taking the empowering anger with them and giving way to the old, paralyzing fear.
“Pack up, Tara. And that’s the last I want to hear from you.”
What had she been thinking? Of course he was right. He wouldn’t have lied to her intentionally all her life. He loved her. “Y-yes s-sir…” she mumbled in defeat.
He hung up.
She walked back to the dorm room, dragging her feet as if each weighed a ton. She was suddenly so tired that her shoulders literally sagged. What was she thinking, anyway? Magic couldn’t buy her freedom from herself; the demon wasn’t something you could just wipe off with some abracadabra.
But then again, magic was the only thing she ever trusted; only thing she ever felt competent for. Take that away and what’s left; something that’s not even Tara.
She couldn’t just get up and leave her campus life. There was too much for her here already, although she’d only been here a year. There was a college degree to be earned, and the Scoobies, whom she was just getting to know, and Willow - for the Goddess’s sake, there was Willow… There was freedom, to do and learn as she pleased.
The room was empty when she got to it. A little orange note on the dresser said that the Scoobies needed Willow badly and had kidnaped her for the rest of the day, maybe night. She’d be home as soon as she can, heaps of love and kisses, don’t wait up.
Tara felt as thought it was midnight already. She changed quickly to her pajamas and fed Miss Kitty Fantastico, who was almost adorable enough to make her forget the mess the afternoon had turned into. She glanced at her clock; 6:47pm. It’s hardly been three hours since she cast the spell.
Too tired to even go take a shower, she tapped on the play button of the stereo and threw herself on the bed, noting silently that the quilt had been picked up from the floor and laid neatly in place, with the embroidered protection symbols facing the right directions. The stereo was playing Green Day quietly. It was one of Willow’s CDs, as Tara had never shared her inexplicable attraction for bad grunge boy-bands. Or was it bad boy grunge bands? She was never sure about the terminology.
She stared at the ceiling distractedly, debating whether to tell Willow everything or not. Whatever she decided, she had to talk to her as soon as possible. Miss Kitty Fantastico, having finished her dinner, jumped lightly on the bed and eyed Tara mischievously. She crouched, tail swinging from side to side, then pounced and grabbed a mouthful of the blond hair that was spread carelessly on the pillow. Tara grunted in displeasure and picked her up, carefully untangling feline from her prey.
“I’d better stay up until she returned from Giles’ place, or wherever it is they’re planning their reckless adventures this time. Don’t you agree, Miss Kitty?” Tara sighed, placing the sly kitten on her stomach. Well, she was wrong thinking Buffy and Xander and Giles were her friends. They were all pretty nice but they hardly knew her. They were a closed circle, a gang, and she wasn’t in it. Not that she really wanted to be in the gang, actually, it scared her, but she wanted to be there for Willow and be useful. Half the stuff they did evolved the redhead sticking her neck out pretty thoroughly, and there was nothing Tara could really do besides research.
Tara rubbed her tired eyes, deciding she was probably not going to fall asleep with all that she had to think about, and besides, she stank of sweat and her face was sticky with it, mixed with tears. She really needed a shower. In a second she would get up and go, right after this song was over. On her belly, Miss Kitty had settled down comfortably and began purring, demanding to be coddled. “Oh, No, Miss Kitty,” she said and placed a lazy hand over the kitten. “Don’t get all comfortable, you’re gonna have to get off soon, right after this…” she yawned, then continued. “It’s… actually not such a bad song…” she yawned again, trailing off. “For Green Day, that is…”
The sun was creeping in when Tara woke up. It was nearly invisible, but bit-by-bit the light was trickling into the room, through shutters that had been lifted to let the night’s air flow in. Tara didn’t remember opening them last night. She turned slowly to her side, a little surprised to find a sleeping figure curled peacefully beside her. By the amount of daylight, Tara estimated it was about 5am. What time had Willow come in?
The sleeping redhead opened her mouth for a second, and then closed it without making any sounds, like a pouting kitten. It was something she sometimes did when she was sleeping soundly, and Tara found it adorable to no end. Messy strands of copper hair were spread over the pillow, making a dazzling contrast against the dark green of it.
Suddenly completely awake, Tara let her eyes drift over the rest of her girlfriend’s body. It was getting warmer, and the redhead slept in her Hackeraholics Anonymous t-shirt and a pair of boxers. The shirt wasn’t long, it ended somewhere around Willow’s belly button in addition to being torn comfortably at the collar. Tara followed the shape of the body beneath the fabric downwards, tracing the flat, whit-ish stomach down to where the boxers began, and then to where they wrinkled teasingly at the thigh. She felt her libido awakening and laughed inwardly; She wouldn’t wake her girlfriend, considering the long nights she usually had with the Scoobies, but Willow was such a heavy sleeper, perhaps she could steal a touch or two.
Gently she reached out and brushed along Willow’s gentle jaw line, hardly touching her. When no response came, she got a little braver and glided down to where a pale, freckled shoulder peaked from the tear in the collar, then to where her fingers itched to touch, where the gap between the boxer and t-shirt left a wide stripe of skin exposed to the chilly air.
Willow stirred at her touch, scratching gently where the other woman’s fingers had tickled her belly. “Hummff…” she said sleepily. Tara withdrew her hand guiltily, but the redhead didn’t return to sleep; instead, she rolled over and nestled in Tara’s embrace, pushing herself gently against her girlfriend until she found a comfortable position.
“Tara…” she mumbled, “missed you last night…”
“The gang?” asked the blonde quietly. The feel of Willow’s body in her arms was sending chills through her belly.
“Mm-humm.”
“Go back to sleep,” whispered Tara into the curve of her neck. Whereas I should go take a cold shower, she added silently.
“What time is it?”
“Five-ish”
“Ewwu. Umm… Tara?”
“Yeah, Willow?”
“Ducks... pink ones. I don’t-” she paused for a moment, concentrating on what was probably a fragment of a dream. “Don’t remember.”
Tara giggled softly, not wishing to pursue the conversation and risk waking the redhead completely. Soon Willow’s breathing became slow and regulated, indicating that she had fallen asleep again.
Perhaps a shower wasn’t such a bad idea after all, thought Tara. It wasn’t like she was going to be able to go back to sleep, as worked up as she already was. And besides, having never washed off the sweat from yesterday’s sprint, she smelled. Smiling to herself, she slipped gently off the bed and grabbed her bathroom bag.
The dorms were completely silent at this time of the morning, and Tara jogged lightly to the showers hearing nothing but her own footfalls. It was peaceful; something a college’s dorms could only so rarely be called.
In the showers, Tara realized that if she were to concentrate on anything at all today, she probably needed to be showering in ice. One particular image clung to her relentlessly, no matter how she tried to avoid it; Willow’s face. She remembered the redhead’s expression with such detail; her mouth slightly open in pleasure, her eyes half shut, breathing heavily as she…
Tara bit the inside of her lips and turned the water tap all the way cold. A second later she shrieked, jumped out of the freezing downpour and stomped on the floor, sending icy droplets into the air. She started laughing, shivering all over, raspberry scented shampoo drizzling into her eyes. Half-blinded she reached for the hot tap and turned the water back to a life enabling temperature.
But perhaps the cold shower myth wasn’t all fiction after all, because after the shock and the laughter, she had finally managed to clear up her mind somewhat and think. The situation she was facing wasn’t pleasant, but at least now, in the fluorescent light of the dorms at 5am, it seemed a little clearer then through the panicked tears of yesterday.
Willow was her cure, her solace; it was only because of the redhead’s healing touch that she had stayed human all that long. If she were to leave Willow, she would indeed turn into the monster her father had prophesied; therefore, she could never leave Willow at all.
Except that wasn’t fair, or possible. Firstly, she loved Willow far too fiercely to ever put her in a stay-with-me-or-else situation. Willow was a free person, and if she should ever want to end their relationship, she couldn’t possibly be denied of that right because of Tara’s selfish need. Secondly, Tara’s father was on his way, and he will, like always, prevail over his daughter’s feeble resistance and do as he pleases - in this case, take her home. Another dead end, it seemed, because back home, miles away from Willow, she would surely be overcome by the demon.
She needed a way to stay in Willow’s healing reach, but without hindering the redhead’s freedom. She to chain herself to Willow in an irreversible and one-sided way, so that the other witch could remain free while Tara is no longer a master to her own deformed self, even across the distance, even as time passed by.
That would be fair, that would be the best Tara deserved anyhow. It wasn’t like she was a real person or anything.
Edited by: Mrs Vertigo at: 7/17/02 11:34:17 am
I was like "nooooo, don't do i t!", when Tara told her stupid dad, where she was hiding. 
