Author: Sela
FIC: Her Willow
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Willow and Tara are the property of Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy and the UPN.
Spoilers: Everything up to "Wrecked"
Summary: This one's Tara-centric. Thoughts and what not after "Wrecked."
Notes: I am open to any thoughts, constructive criticm, etc. It's intended to be the first of a few parts. Oh, and this is my first fic.
Tara stood at the window, her long arms wrapped around her waist, as if trying to protect herself. Against what, she thought? The answer was simple—Willow. It was always Willow. Every thought, every movement, the tangible and intangible—all of it had Willow’s name emblazoned across it. How had they gotten to this point? There was a time when being with Willow was like being reborn every day. All the sensations of life, from simple to complex, were revelations---absolute and perfect epiphanies cascading into one glorious stream…love. They reveled in it. It wasn’t like a drug, not really. Drugs implied addiction, and that’s not what it was. What they had was like breathing, sometimes slow and regular, other times quick and offbeat, but always rhythmic and natural. So this—what had happened with Willow—was like a noose around their love, tightening until all the breath had been squeezed out. But was it dead?
“No. Please no.” Tara bit her lower lip and hugged herself tighter. She wished Willow was here now just holding her, brushing her hair away from her face, whispering words of comfort. Willow was great with comfort. Was. Before the dark spells. The magic had transformed her into a wholly selfish person. It was about power now, getting power, wielding it, and though unintentional, hurting people in the process. Tara’s brow furrowed as she though about the last spell Willow had cast, a spell that nearly cost the Scoobies their lives. She turned away from the window and walked slowly to her chest of drawers. She brushed her fingers across a framed picture of she and Willow in happier times.
“I love your smile,” Willow grinned adoringly at Tara.
“I love yours more.” Tara replied.
Tara brushed the memory away by pounding her fist on the chest of drawers. The anger stirred at the pit of her stomach. She felt it rising through her body, becoming a hard ball of fury. It just wasn’t fair! This woman had come into her life armed with the ability to stir her out of her miserable self-imposed isolation. A woman who, with a warm smile and sincere mind-blowing affection, managed to save her—yes, SAVE her. Because if it hadn’t been for Willow, Tara would be playing housewife to her father and brother, hiding in her room, withering slowly, dying a little more each day, her potential unrealized. It was too hard to fathom. A life without Willow…a life without love.
Tara’s body started to tremble. Fear stabbed at her heart, a fear that she would never be with her Willow again. The Willow of old. All goofy grins, smiling eyes, and sweet elbow rubs. The anger took over. She grabbed the picture and threw it across the room. She watched as the glass shattered. For a moment, she felt a release. A wave of satisfaction rode through her body, settling the angry embers within. But then panic seized her.
“Willow,” she cried out in desperation. She ran to the picture, lying face down, and gingerly shook off the shards. She traced Willow’s face with her index finger whispering, “I still love your smile.” She closed her eyes and hugged the picture to her chest, rocking slowly, back and forth, letting her mind and heart swell with lovely memories of her Willow. Patchworks of love from when Willow wanted to be snuggled, caressed, hugged, and held—such blessed simplicity.
The high-pitched phone ring disturbed Tara’s reverie. Still clutching the picture, she walked to the phone on the nightstand.
“H-hello?”
“Tara…” The voice on the other end was ragged but unmistakable.
“Dawnie?”
“Yeah. Tara, um, something’s happened. It’s uh… I’m hurt, and Willow…” Tara closed her eyes and felt the tears moisten her eyeleashes. She swallowed the Willow lump in her throat and sighed. Not again.
Part Two: Taking the Steps
Nothing about this was easy. Tara immersed herself in her studies, thinking that by concentrating her efforts on her academic career, all else would be forgotten. Silly. If she wanted to forget, she should’ve just used Willow’s “Forget” spell. She snorted at the thought. That’s what got us into this whole mess, she thought. She had to stop lying to herself—this thing had begun way before then. Tara sighed, grabbed her brown sweater and headed out the door.
As she walked, her thoughts drifted easily to Willow. It had been six weeks, four days, twelve hours and twenty-three minutes since she’d last seen Willow. It had been six weeks, four days, twelve hours, and twenty-three minutes of intense and severe pain. After Dawn had called her, Tara’s first instinct was to rush over and see her ex lover, to see firsthand the depths to which she’d plummeted, and to even offer comfort, but she’d shaken the urge away. She couldn’t give in. Especially not now, when Willow needed to see how her actions hurt everyone, and mostly herself. Still, Tara had wanted to see Dawn, so she arranged meetings outside of the Summers house. That was the only way it would work. And for the most part, Dawn was improving. Most of her injuries had healed, but Tara feared that the worst damage was on the inside. After that night with Willow and Rack, Tara had lost something. She now looked at the world and her close circle with eyes hooded in skepticism. The trust was gone. How could she ever forgive Willow for that?
But it had been a while. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, she thought. Maybe Willow would be different now. Time heals all wounds. Isn’t that what people say? But she knew that it wasn’t true with Dawn, so how could she expect…
Too late to turn back now. Arms crossed across her chest, she looked up at the Summers house, and made the all-too-familiar climb up the porch steps. Inhaling deeply, Tara closed her eyes and knocked on the door. Fear suddenly held her prisoner. What if…Willow answered. What would she do? What would she say? She looked around as if trying to find reinforcements, but as usual, there was nothing but the howling of the wind. A very sharp and determined wind. She cast her eyes downward and waited.
Her fears were laid to rest when Buffy answered the door, though being around Buffy just reminded her of Willow. They were best friends, after all. There were similarities—the fierce loyalty, the unconditional love—and it was painful to recognize that in Buffy.
“Tara. I’m so glad…Please, come in.” Tara smiled nervously, biting on her lower lip to show her shy appreciation. Buffy immediately enveloped Tara in a warm embrace. “It’s about time.” She pulled away and smiled. Tara appreciated Buffy’s openness, but the desire to hear about Willow took over any need to exchange pleasantries.
“How is she, Buffy?” Tara folded her arms across her chest and gazed expectantly at her slayer friend. Buffy raised her eyebrows and let out a huge breath.
“It’s been tough. She’s been holed up in her room since that night. She’s been running a fever since Tuesday. She’s got the shakes—bad—and she won’t eat, not for anything. I mean, don’t get me wrong, there’ve been good weeks, but this one…” Tara noted the sadness in Buffy’s voice and felt horrible. Willow—how did this happen? Why?
Buffy lowered her head. “And she cries,” she whispered.
“C-c-cries?” Tara bit her lip and furrowed her brow.
“Yeah. All night. Sometimes we all do. Dawn’s still really angry with her, but she loves Will no matter what. We hate this.” Tara could feel the tears welling in her eyes.
“It’s all my fault. I should’ve…”
“No, Tara. How do you figure? She was out of control—for a long time—even before I died. You couldn’t have done anything.” Buffy squeezed Tara’s shoulder reassuringly.
“If I hadn’t left, then Willow would never have brought Amy back, and Rack, well…”
“Woulda, coulda, shoulda—stop it! Tara, please! You HAD to leave. Willow was using way too much magic. You left because she had to see how bad it had become. It was the best,” Buffy swallowed, “It was the ONLY thing you could do.”
“For who? For Dawn? Buffy, s-s-she’s hurt and i-it could’ve been worse. Now Willow is sick and everything’s wrong. And me? I’m miserable. Tell me, who won here? D-d-did I prove my point?”
“Tara, it’s not about proving points or winning. No one’s gonna win in a situation like this. God, don’t you see this had to happen? She can’t get better until she’s fallen so far there’s no other place to go but up, okay?”
“I just,” Tara closed her eyes as a tear ran down her cheek, “I love her so much.” She squeezed her eyes to scare the rest of the tears away. “So much it hurts.” She hung her head down so Buffy wouldn’t see the cascade of tears.
“She needs to know that. She thinks you loved the magical Willow. That’s one of her greatest fears, you know. That you won’t like the normal Willow.”
Tara furrowed her brows in consternation. “I fell in love with her before she was good at witchcraft. I fell in love with HER—my Willow. Yes, there was power, but that came from the strength of our union. I always saw it as a product of our love, never the basis.”
“Then tell her.” Buffy shifted the direction of her gaze to the staircase. Tara nodded her head in agreement. She walked to the banister and signed once before climbing the stairs. She walked slowly, purposefully, to the door—the entry to what used to be THEIR room. She rapped gently and pressed her ear to the door, waiting for a response. What would Willow look like? Would she even want to see her? Tara was so afraid of what she might find. She didn’t know if her heart could take seeing Willow in pain. Willow was her life. Every breath she took had her name on it. That hadn’t changed after the breakup, and she doubted it ever would. Oh, God, Willow, she thought. I just can’t stop loving you. Tara swallowed hard.
“Come in.”
Part III: Lonely
Willow was dreaming. Only she wasn’t asleep. She lay flat on her back in a spread eagle position with the comforter pushed to the end of the bed, covering her bare feet. Her breathing had grown rapid as the dream became more vivid. Bright colors jumped from one part of the ceiling to the other, flashes of memories of Buffy, Xander, Anya, Dawn, and Tara. Oh, most especially Tara, with her hair carelessly drawn up in an impromptu bun held together by a pencil—not the floating kind—smiling down at her, but then the smile turned into a frown, and then it became a scowl. Suddenly, Tara wasn’t Tara anymore. She had morphed into Rack. Willow tried to look away, but she was transfixed. What the hell? He was reaching for her. Getting closer and closer. Willow shut her eyes. NO! She rolled to her side and hugged her knees to her chest. It was getting worse. The cravings were becoming more frequent. That’s why she had refused to eat for days now. She figured if her body was too weak, then she’d be too weak to cast any spells. Strange logic, but it seemed to be working. It was a shame her stomach wasn’t complying. The belly rumblings were all she could hear now. Well, that and the sound of Tara’s voice. Lovely. Sometimes, if she focused hard enough, she could almost hear Tara’s sweet alto voice humming in her ear, and then she could pretend that Tara was lying next to her, stroking her hair, just reveling in the satisfaction of being together. Eyes still closed, Willow hugged the pillow—Tara’s pillow—and inhaled deeply. She waited for the scent to reach her. These days it was taking longer for the essence of Tara to meet her. It was disconcerting, but Willow tried to push the thought away. For now, she could still smell her, and that was enough. Who was she kidding? It could never be enough. It was Tara she wanted, not the fading scent of Eucalyptus, Spearmint Oils, and Meadowseed.
But it had to be enough, at least for now. Willow had done this for weeks. She’d surrounded herself with all things Tara—at least what she could get away with keeping without Tara really noticing. There was, of course, the Dolls Eye Crystal that she kept under Tara’s pillow and the purple tie dye shirt which was lying on Tara’s side of the bed. And there were other not-so-obvious things, like a pair of orange, blue, and black beaded earrings behind the bookcase, and the scarf Tara had worn for two seconds before opting for the hemp choker— now wrapped around Willow’s left hand for comfort. It was the only way Willow could survive.
The trembling overtook her body again. Her body grew hot, and she felt beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Please, not again. “I just need a reprieve,” she muttered through clenched teeth. God, she’d been so incredibly stupid. With magic, everything had been simple. Life, love, all of it was shapeable to fit her wants and needs. But it had been too much. Her self-doubt had led her to use magic that caused harm. She had chased Tara away. And that only made her go over the edge. She had lost control and almost killed Dawn in the process. No. Little Dawnie. Thinking about that night made Willow nauseous. If anything had… That’s why she HAD to get it together. She wanted to be in control of her life again and she needed to make it up to Dawn. More than anything, though, she needed Tara back.
She hugged her knees tighter. She felt so alone. She tried to throw herself into another waking dreamstate. She imagined Tara swooping in, as if on a cloud, sprinkling her gently with her love. Then Tara was wrapping her phantom arms around her, spooning against her, laying her head against Willow’s shoulder. “I like it here,” the ghost whispered. “Me, too,” Willow replied, smiling and settling comfortably into her lover. Willow tried to pull Tara into a more intimate embrace, but the more she tried, the further away Tara seemed. “No…” Willow blinked her eyes open, realizing she was painfully alone. She started to cry, softly, because she didn’t want anyone to hear just how empty she felt.
There was a soft rap at the door. She groaned. Not now, she thought to herself. She just wanted to be miserable without interruption. But vestiges of the old Willow shone through and politeness took over. Managing a growl, she said, “Come in.”
Part IV: Face to Face
She didn’t even bother to look up. She figured it was Xander checking in. There was a lot of that going on lately. Buffy couldn’t watch Willow 24/7, so the other Scoobies had to step in. It was good because she knew they cared, but it was also humiliating. As if withdrawal weren’t bad enough…she also had to deal with the looks of disappointment in the eyes of her friends. And today, she really wasn’t in the mood for visitors.
“H-hey.” The soft voice shocked Willow. She immediately shot up at the sound of Tara’s voice, barely above a whisper, with a hint of terseness.
“Tara…” That came out too reverent, didn’t it, Willow worried. “I, um, wasn’t expecting you.” She shifted uncomfortably, swinging her feet to the floor, and rising to stand. She saw that Tara was visibly shaken. “Are you…”
“I heard what happened.” Tara swallowed a sigh and gazed directly at Willow, never wavering.
“Buffy?”
“No, Dawnie. She’s, um, upset.”
“Yeah, it’s been…” Tara cut Willow off.
“Well, obviously. I mean, Willow, what were you thinking? Dawn could have…”
Willow felt the anger stir inside of her. Her eyes darkened and she glared at Tara. “You think I don’t know that? God, I was there. Hello, had a driver’s side view of it all. I’m not dumb. Dawn could have died.” Willow wiped a lone tear from her eye and clasped her hands together. She stared down at the floor and shook her head, allowing the silence to pass between them. Tara shut the door and leaned against it, holding the door knob firmly.
“Yes, Willow. And you need to hear that. Over and over again. Until…”
“Until what, Tara?”
“Until you really understand how you’re destroying yourself.” Willow turned her back on Tara and moved to the mirror. She could see both hers and Tara’s reflection. Tara shook her head. “I’m worried about you, Willow.” Again, the anger swelled inside of Willow. Oh, she wanted to throw something, make something move with the power of her mind. Anything to stop this!
“Why, Tara? Why exactly are you worried about me? I’m really curious now, because from where I’m standing, you could give a damn!” Tara’s face fell as Willow turned to face her.
“Will, no…”
“Please. Spare me. You don’t care, so just drop the ‘oh-so-concerned-act.’ You don’t have to put on a show for my benefit.” Willow knew she shouldn’t be saying these things, but she couldn’t stop. The words had just been simmering under the surface for weeks now.
“I care. I really do. God, you think I’d spend nearly two years of my life with someone I didn’t care about? What kind of person do you think I am?” Tara’s brows furrowed.
“I don’t know, Tara. I thought I knew. I mean, I thought we were ‘forever and ever,’ but obviously that was too long for you.”
“Willow, please! Don’t say these things. I, I…”
“You left me, remember? How can you expect me to believe you care when YOU left ME. I would never do that to you, Tara. Never. I would stay with you, in sickness and in health, and I proved that to you. Why couldn’t you just do the same for me? Why?” Willow fell to the floor and started sobbing. Body shaking, Tara moved closer to Willow.
“Because I wanted you to stop. Because I was so scared for you, so scared of losing you. Because the thought of you hurt, or worse—dead—was so much more than I could handle. Because I,” Tara stopped for a moment, bit her lower lip, and sighed heavily, “Because I love you, Willow.” Tara dropped to her knees next to Willow. “I love you. Don’t you understand that?”
“No. Tara, I’m so sorry. I don’t deserve it. I mean, you shouldn’t love me. I…” Tara tentatively placed her hand over Willow’s. “If you knew who I really was…saw the real me.” Willow swallowed hard, still not able to look up and face Tara directly. “You fell in love with the magic, Tara. You felt that power. It’s what drew you to me. You said it yourself. I was special. I was different. If you only knew… After all that, how could you possibly settle for less?”
Tara cupped Willow’s cheek and forced her to look into her eyes. “I’ve NEVER settled. And you are special and different, but it has nothing to do with magic. It’s you, Willow. I fell in love with you, not some spell. I couldn’t say it then because I was afraid of rejection. I should have said it more often after that, but I guess I just took for granted that you knew. I am so in love with this Willow,” she laid her hand against Willow’s heart. “The you that holds my hand, that snuggles me at night. The you that brings me comfort. Yes, it’s magical, but it’s not about magic.”
“Tara, I don’t know. It’s just so hard.” Willow’s tears kept flowing freely and she was too tired to feel ashamed.
“Will, I just want to love you.” Willow finally found the courage to keep Tara’s gaze. Her lip still quivering, she threw herself into Tara’s arms. She sobbed into her lover’s shoulder, holding onto Tara’s waist.
“What if I can’t? What if I fail? I’m not good with this, Tara. I don’t know how strong I can be.”
“Shhh, baby. We’ll work on it. You and me, okay? I just want you to get better.”
“I need help. Please, Tara, help me.” Willow held on to Tara for dear life, not wanting to let go, needing to feel loved, if only for a few moments.
“I’m gonna help you, love.” Willow felt Tara’s lips brush lightly against her own. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. Not this time.”
Part V: Step One
The silence had crept upon them, eating away at their individual resolves, forcing them to conjoin. Everything was preternaturally still—the air itself seemed devoid of earthly substance. The only reminder of human existence was the slow and steady breathing coming from her love. Finally. Tara inhaled her lover’s scent, expecting to find the Mango Peach sweetness she’d grown accustomed to, but instead being hit with an imperceptible staleness—the kind you find when you walk into a hospital. It was a smell Tara was all too familiar with from her tango with insanity last spring. Only it had been different with Tara. She didn’t choose for Glory to take possession of her mind. She never asked to be crazy. With Willow, well, hers was a road paved by her own volition. One spell had led to another, and soon, Willow had found herself delving into the dark recesses of magic, unable to stop the craving for power, unwilling to surrender the ability to alter reality with a simple wave of the hand and an incantation. Oh, yes, things were definitely different. Tara felt the anger rising within her for a second. She felt Willow stir on her lap and her attention was refocused on her. The heat Willow was creating from so slight a movement forced Tara to another time and place. Her thoughts immediately began to index memories—the first pangs of a crush, the awkwardness of touch, the first tender kiss, and finally the sweetness of their lovemaking—and it was enough to bring her back to the moment. No matter what, this was still her Willow. She gently ran her finger around Willow’s cheek and sighed. Again, Willow was beginning to stir, only her eyes were twitching, and the shivering that had plagued her before began to attack her again at full force. Tara swung her arm across her body and squeezed Willow to her.
Prior to her arrival earlier this evening, Tara had steeled herself to the idea of seeing Willow at her lowest, but she wasn’t at all prepared for what she had found. Willow looked awful. She was already naturally pale, but her complexion had become pasty. Her cheeks had lost all hints of rosiness. Her eyes were devoid of the sparkle she was known for. The emerald green depths had all but disappeared, leaving only darkness. Tara’s heart had sunk at the sight. But she had tried to be tough. It had taken all of Tara’s inner strength to remain detached. Instead, she hid behind a rough veneer. Maybe too rough. And then Willow had moved away from her. Tara had begun to panic as she felt Willow’s aura slipping away. This Willow was insecure, full of self-loathing, and willing to lash out, and she did. Boy did she ever. Willow’s words had stung her. She could feel Willow’s anger, her sense of abandonment, her feeling of betrayal. It had been festering for a while. And as much as it shattered Tara to hear Willow, she knew it had to be done. So she had tried to remain quiet until Willow had finished her rant. And it was at that moment that Tara had realized she simply could not be without her.
Now, as she sat trying to console Willow in her disturbing dream state, she took a quick inventory of the room. The bed was unmade, well-worn, and wrinkled. There were face towels soaked in sweat on the pillows and on the floor. Tissues formed frightening patterns on the bed. On the side where Tara used to sleep was one of her shirts, laid out in wake, or so it seemed. For Comfort no doubt.
Again, Willow began to move, only this time she seemed to cower. Oh, my, she’s dissolved into nothing, Tara thought. The pyjamas were dangerously close to falling off her. Tara wasn’t sure if there was anything to cover anymore. No more Willow? This sent her into a dizzying panic. No, Willow has to be here. She has to stay here. Tara began to shake her. She wanted to hear her, feel her, love her. “Will? Please, Will, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” Willow moaned softly, but still wouldn’t open her eyes. “Baby, it’s time to get up.” Slowly, Willow’s eyes fluttered open and she met Tara’s gaze with a hint of confusion and hesitation.
“I’m sorry. Was I bothering you?” Willow tried to move out of Tara’s lap. The precariousness of their reunion was still fresh on her mind.
“No, that’s not it. I… I was just worried. I wanted,” Tara closed her eyes and sighed, “I needed to hear you.”
Willow stared at Tara, trying to understand what she was saying. Mustering as much bravado as she could find, she smiled encouragingly.
“I’m here, Tara. I’m okay.” Tara relaxed as her love spoke. She smoothed the fiery red hair from Willow’s face and let her fingers dangle soothingly in the strands. Her blue eyes, filled with concern, moved all over Willow’s face, memorizing every crease, every line, every eyelash, every pore. She bent her neck down to lean her forehead against Willow’s.
“I missed you, Will. God, how I missed you.” Tara’s hand tightened around a patch of her lover’s hair as she moved her lips to graze against Willow’s. She moved slowly, deliberately; she wanted to taste Willow—really savor her. It was light but intense. The mingling of breaths and the joining of lips was enough to quell the ache within. It was long, lazy, and lovely. When their lips finally parted, both Willow and Tara still clung to each other. So perfect were they in this moment that it felt like their bodies were melded together, as if they had been made to fit into this precise pose. Tara gazed at her love for what seemed like hours. She could never get tired of this, she thought. “I love you,” she whispered. Willow’s face lit up.
“I love you too, Tara.” She smiled at Tara and reached up to plant a kiss on Tara’s lips. Tara grinned in response and hugged Willow fiercely. She wasn’t fooling herself, though. She knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Recovery never was. There would be phases and steps, good days and bad days, and occasionally, Willow would slip up, but the alternative was worse…a life without her love.
Willow broke their embrace and looked up at Tara. Her brows furrowed together, she frowned at her lover, and placed her left hand over her tummy. “I’m hungry,” she groaned and grinned at Tara.
Tara couldn’t help but smile. Her heart swelled with love for her beautiful, strong amazon woman. “Oh, honey, that’s not a problem. We'll get you some food right away." Placing a peck on Willow’s forehead, she closed her eyes, inhaled, and let the sensation of being close to her lover swirl around her. Step one, she thought, before she rose and wandered downstairs to forage dinner for Willow.
FINIS
very good! 
keep up the good work, such feeling and honesty 
+ 
= 
