The Lamb - Chapter 52 - Completed Oct. 29

[db]

How did I miss that this had been updated?!

I swear, sometimes I live in a whole different universe.

Loved the visit! What a great message -- and thank the goddess-shaped entities 'cos this whole killing herself with the healing vibe was of the ungood.

I am looking forward to seeing what Willow has done with the place... and getting Tara healed.

Sorry to leave such late and short feedback, life is a bit chaotic at the moment.

I hope you are feeling better!

db

[masterjendu]

Hiya Phoenix! I have only a few extra comments...

I love the Althanea you’ve created. Up until now Tara has been guided mostly by a seemingly immature, albeit well-intentioned Goddess who has some major issues with communication. Now she has a motherly figure and an actual guide she can trust. Althanea is not perfect, she is human but she embodies love and understanding. That coupled with her faith in Willow and her obvious power, are exactly the boost Tara needed to keep going. Willow-light, however wonderful it is, could not have realistically sustained Tara in her mission. Sure her will is strong, but I am glad she has a real (physical) ally to get her through the final push until Willow wakes up.

And look at all of the hope you’ve given us! After quite a few chapters where the adjective ‘bleak’ would not be exaggerating, now: not only is Tara not necessarily going to die right away, but she is actually supposed to love Willow!!! It was what she was born to do!!! Woo Hoo!

I can love her?

As you know, I love the innocence and hope of this line. Absolutely beautiful.

I love the fact that Tara asked about Faith. Really, Tara has Faith to thank for bringing Willow to her. But besides that, now we have a slayer on our team if we need her!

And I love the inclusion of a teaser for the next chapter! Let’s see what her courageous girl has done!!!

Thank you for a beautiful chapter.

[Tara the Phoenix]

ACK! I haven’t posted a response to comments for way too long. I apologize, kittens. I do want to thank you for reading; you keep me going! For everyone who has been with me throughout my illness, I just want to express my heartfelt thanks. My rather unorthodox treatments are really effective, and my old strength and vitality is returning. Thank you so much for your good vibes.

willowphile I’m glad you enjoy the story, and thank you for thinking my work is phenomenal. I’ll try to keep up the good work. I hope you enjoy the next update.


tazraven I’m glad I could make the preacher a properly terrifying villain. Tara is certainly braver than nearly everyone around her realizes. Don’t ever worry about leaving late (or no) feedback. RL is important, too. Take care of yourself and the rest will follow.


dlline My darling Diane! Sorry, I just love alliteration with your name for some reason. I can’t thank you enough for your support, and I appreciated your help with this coming update.

I find myself awash in mistrust for Aranaea.

As well you should. She may be a goddess, but she knows nothing about humans. Won’t it be interesting to find out why she was in exile to begin with? (hehe)


db Thanks for lending the M8BoS. I’m not nearly the prognosticator that you are, so I’ll give it back. Sure is fun, though. Yep, Tara’s life has been plenty hard, but at least there is light (Willow-light!) at the end of the tunnel.

and thank the goddess-shaped entities ‘cos this whole killing herself with the healing vibe was of the ungood.

You crack me up. That sounded so Willowish. Don’t worry about short or late fb, life takes precedence. I hope everything is ok, and thanks for reading.


LittleBit Thank you for taking the time to leave a comment. They really give us writers a reason to go on when the story gets hard.

I remember you promising us that this story had a happy ending...

It certainly does, but there’s no true joy without knowing true sorrow, is there? More magic coming up!


Wimpy Caleb may be stupid and evil, but he’ll get his come-uppance. He knows how dangerous Willow is, but he will still underestimate her. Thanks for being with me!

Can’t wait to see what Willow has been up to. I have my ideas, but I’ll just wait to see what you have in store for us.

Now you’ve got me all curious. I’d be intrigued to hear what you are thinking of. If you like, you can PM me with them. [hear me beg like a little girl.] Thanks for everything!


katjetson Dearest Phoenix? Ahh [grins shyly]. Thank you for taking the time to leave feedback, my heart melted when you said my story was sob-worthy and addictive. Your next shot of W/T goodness is coming up!

Take our hearts and break ‘em, why don’t you?

I believe I will! Healing is coming up, though! Thank you for reading.


Zampsa1975 Thank you for always taking the time to leave a comment. I really appreciate it. As far as W/T kissage, look no further than the following update. (oops, did I just give that away?)


Alcy Dear Alcy! I’m a true believer that you are the product of your own actions, and whatever mess had happened in Tara’s life makes her a better person as long as she wants it to. I think on your own story, about how Willow used Tara’s death as a catalyst to become a demon-fighter. It’s all about choice, and consequence. You keep writing, I’ll keep writing, and we’ll both be happy!

With each successive chapter I doubt Tara’s ability to remain just a nurse...

As long as Willow is in the hospice as her patient, they’ll both have to show some restraint. Thank goodness there is always mindsurfing! Thanks for sticking with me!


JustSkipIt I’ve been going on a tear, reading your old fics, like W/T Season Three Y’All, and I’m amazed by the time and energy you put into your stories. They make our lives a little better, lifting us from the mundanity of daily existence (no, mundanity is not a word, but I’m going to use it anyway), and I thank you for sharing your talent with us. I also want to thank you for your amazing support. I love getting your feedback.

Yes, I was already head-over-heels in love with this story and it’s risen with the latest update. Why? Because you have created Possibility and that Possibility is named Willow.

Tara has only known Willow as the critically injured witch, and as much as Angel and Althanea have told her of Willow’s abilities, it is high time for her to discover them herself. Tara has got to learn that she is also worth saving.

Yay! Faith lived!

I knew you’d like that. Just for you, Deb (though it really helps in laying foundation for the sequel...)


masterjendu [starts playing Peter Cetera]J, I’ve told you this a dozen times. You rock. Thanks for bringing the best out of me. [/end Peter Cetera] Seriously, I know it might be hard to leave comments but I always appreciate it when you do.

After quite a few chapters where the adjective ‘bleak’ would not be exaggerating, now: not only is Tara not necessarily going to die right away, but she is actually supposed to love Willow!!! It was what she was born to do!!!

I hope the bleakness never got too icky, but that stage is over. Just imagine all the fun our kittens can have in the hospice; massages, baths, long walks... Thanks for all you do for me, and enjoy your vacation!


Zooey’s Bridge Congrats on the dibs for Ch 17.

Yom Dmaot. This is beautiful. The hebrew is perfect. perfect perfect perfect. day of tears indeed. best title ever for the little hint of what you’ve told us is to come.

I read your feedback over and over again, thank you so much for sharing so much with me. I’m glad I got that little bit of Hebrew right, and thank you so much for your help with the Hebrew in the following chapter. Our kittens really are the most amazing and giving people in the world.


JujuDeRoussie I appreciate you leaving feedback. It leaves me all warm and mushy inside to think that you don’t know what to say. I’m glad you are enjoying the fic. BTW, I read La Poste, to Serve You. What a romp! More fb on that when I get a spare moment...


ceridwen Hey, thanks for leaving feedback. I know it is sometimes hard to leave feedback on the fics, especially when you don’t think you have anything more to add than has already been said. That said, I do love receiving it! I’m glad to know that you are reading, so thank you for that.

I’m really happy that the last chapter brought some hope to Tara’s life, because it was starting to get really depressing for her...

Yep, we had been riding the pukey rollercoaster for some time, and I felt it was high time to give a shot of hope to the whole situation. Things are going to improve... for a while at least (bwahaha!) [insert evil grin]


Well, the next update will be up in a matter of hours. Thank you for being so patient, and I sincerely hope you enjoy the next chapter.

Phoenix

[Tara the Phoenix]

Title: The Lamb
Author: Phoenix
Feedback: Please!
Notes: This update is brought to you a number of kittens. I shout out to masterjendu and dlline, whose commentary and editing made it better than it had been. Thanks to Zooey's Bridge, who supplied the necessary Hebrew and translations. And a shout to Shaucker, for taking on the challenge.

Yom Dmaot
Day of Tears

It was night again in Willow’s tortured mind. She was standing in the doorway to her consciousness that she had so painstakingly created in the hours since the angel’s departure, and she had created it in the very spot she had been enfolded in the angel’s arms. In memory of the divine beauty of the angel, Willow’s doorway was no mere closet door (no dirty laundry here), but an exquisitely crafted archway of marble and gilded gold, entwined with leaves and softly blooming night-flowers. After the moment of its creation, Willow had straightened her clothing and opened the doors, only to find the same unremitting landscape of night-ridden Sunnydale on the other side. Hours of intense concentration had now brought her to this point; she stood on the cusp of the doorway, and through it she could see an unfamiliar space, bright beyond imagining.

Willow knew that all she had to do was step through that brilliant door to be reunited with her body, but something held her back. Suddenly a face swam into her view, and Willow gasped. Those eyes, those bellflower in springtime eyes, eyes of crystal mountain lakes, eyes of jewelled loveliness, she recognized those exquisite eyes. They were undeniably the eyes of the angel, yet what was this? There were leaden weights in them, millstones of pain and private despair, and one was surrounded by the remnants of a black eye, and that clear and wondrous face was hideously marred by three long slashes extending from eyebrow to ear and down to the mouth.

Willow almost stepped through the doorway then, so she could cup that face in her hands, to kiss it and make it better. Yet there was an anchor on her soul, for all of Sunnydale howled behind her, and the groanings and moanings of the unburied dead were a wind on her face, dashing her hot tears away. Could she sacrifice these horribly familiar streets of Sunnydale for that uncertain future beyond the doorway? Could she just leave the moldering bodies of her friends, abandon them in the dust of Caleb’s ruination, even for the sake of those crystal blue eyes? No, not yet. So Willow grasped the ornate handles of the doors, and softly, regretfully, pulled them shut, aching at the last glance of anguish clearly written on the angel’s face as she did so.

And Willow stood then, with the ghostly wind whipping her crimson hair, her eyes closed against the onslaught of voices in the wind, her heart burning in torment. She lifted her flawless face up to the night sky, her throat creamy in the evanescent light of the softly glowing doorway, tears glistening on her cheeks. For long moments she stood there, torn. Part of her wished to go through that doorway and leave this horror far behind, buried in the black hole of the coma, a malignant blackness forgotten if unseen. But a stronger part remembered the outside world, and was overwhelmed by its potential emptiness. She knew she had escaped the implosion; Faith had rescued her and a few other potentials. Could that mean that everyone else died? She had stumbled over their bodies often enough while being stalked by Caleb.

There was no Buffy out there anymore, no Xander, no Giles. Oz had already left her, long ago. What was there on the outside that could possibly make her life worth living? Far better to remain here, a hell dimension of her own devising, her punishment for always pushing too far too fast, for who would mourn her loss? She could stay in the coma forever, always walking the familiar if devastated streets, stumbling over the places she had hallowed with her blood and tears, cycling herself ever downwards until she could release herself into the same sweet oblivion as all of her friends. Could there be anything on the outside as sickeningly fulfilling?

(The angel)

Don’t think it, Rosenberg. It was a mistake. The most beautiful, luscious, time-stopping mistake of your life.

She knew nothing of that mysterious woman. Willow supposed that the woman did, in fact, exist in the outside world; her brief glance into her consciousness had shown it. Could this woman possibly mean something to her? If she was real, how did she come into Willow’s mind, to fight and defeat Caleb, to suck up his dust in such an enigmatic manner, and brand Willow’s lips with her unspoken name?

Useless suppositions for now. No time for the living, for the dead cannot wait.

So Willow turned her back on the pearly gateway, wiped the tears from her face, and turned to face the wreckage of Sunnydale, ever the sibilant whispers of the unhallowed dead floating up to her ears, turning her mad. She managed only a dozen steps away from the focal point of her happiness, now represented by the pearly gate, before she sank to the ground, sobbing. The thought of facing those damned streets filled her with despair. Not just the chunks of concrete everywhere, but the teddy bears left behind by their little mistresses, and the cars that ran into light posts to become so much scrap, and the fires that yet burned within homes and without. Not to mention the buckets of her own blood, shed over and over again in her torture, and the bodies of the townspeople which were waxy and stagnant yet they would explode with so little as a stray touch, showering her in vileness.

This was her town. And Willow tried to remember it as it had been, before Buffy had come to turn her world upside down. But it was impossible, for they had fought demons on every street corner, had encountered vampires in every inch of the sewer, and had broken their bones and spilt their blood and shed their tears and lost their eyes... Willow crumpled even further. Nothing was left for her. She began to sob in great hiccups now, watery gasps of pain as she clutched herself around her waist and listened to the dead howl in her ears.

She was barely aware of the change it was so subtle. It began as a low glow on the horizon, the first fiery streams of crimson like sunrise over water, followed by raging rapids of blinding white light that blessed every thing in its path. The daystar, the lifegiver, Willow basked in its glow and lifted her tear-stricken face to it as if to kiss it and possess it, never realizing what the true source of that light was. Willow opened her tear-filled eyes, the glow refracting from her tears to create dancing prisms of light, and she stared with heartfelt gratitude at the sunlight. What was it that brought the sun to her nightmare world? Was that woman the source of this unearthly delightful light? “Oh, my G-d,” Willow whispered, her heart melting in gratitude, and then she raised her eyes to the lightening sky and continued, “Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech Ha Olam, oseh ma'aseh v'reishit.” The Hebrew tumbled from her mouth easily though she hadn’t spoken it in years, and the words were Praised Are You, Lord our G-d, King of the Universe, Source of Creation.

And there. Just there. The sun crested the bowl of the ground and paved a highway to Willow. It was a single iconic image that she prayed would stay with her the rest of her life. This magnificent highway to the sun was framed by her glorious gateway on one side and a tremendous willow tree on the other. Willow’s heart leaped in her chest, a joyous bubble that eased her most recent pain. This healing light lit a road for her, a road that led into the very heart of the sun

(the woman).

She knew that if she could just tread that highway, if she could just merge her heart with the heart of the woman, she could meet all those she had ever loved and lost. She could understand all things that were now shrouded in mystery. She could dwell in the source of that light in peace and happiness until the very planet under her feet crumbled into dust and became as one with the universe. A scent of celestial flowers began to waft through her consciousness, and all eternity echoed about her.
A light rippling sensation began to cascade through her muscles. It was a tingling, like the sense of standing on a rooftop just before a terrific thunderstorm, dark clouds on the horizon like great black beasts charging over the land, who come with champing bits of lightning and stamping hooves of thunder. That sense of power, of being connected to the earth and every living thing upon it filled her with a raging exultation and also with a great unfulfilled ache.

What was this new lifeblood? What force soothed her broken spirit and shed light on her pain? Could it possibly be her? Was she a woman of power? Whatever it was, it calmed the sibilant voices and eased them away, replacing their shrill discordant cries with a steady beat. Willow listened to this beat for long moments before realizing it was a heartbeat, but not her own, and the grasses bent to it like a dancer with a familiar partner. This beat, this dance, the zephyr wind was part of it, and the grasses too, and the water in her stream and the gophers in their burrows, and the gulls in their sky, they all danced to the beat. So Willow overcame her shame, and placed her feet carefully on the ground and let the wind turn her and the water whisper to her, her body turning gracefully in her own dance of life.

Only then did Willow start to walk back into the ruined streets of Sunnydale, the light sustaining her, feeding her, giving her hope. The tingling ripples in her skin coalesced about her body, and as she approached her private hell her very aspect shifted and changed. Her tattered and bloody clothing fell away from her, and she became enrobed in tight blue jeans, a black fringed shirt, with a single sapphire pendant hanging gently between her breasts.

Feeling young, strong, powerful

(alive!)

Willow implacably strode down the streets, suddenly sure of her destination. The sun continued to rise behind her, imbuing her with a golden aura. And as she walked, her footsteps gentle in her red Converse sneakers, every footprint shivered in the dust and sent out rays of healing energy. Under her implacable advance the streets began to heal, the chunks of concrete and jagged gaps in the roads seamed together once again, the blood stains dissolving from them effortlessly. Lawns were set aright, fires were extinguished, green grass began to grow under her feet, and flowers began to bloom, and she walked without understanding it at all, no idea of the sacrifice given for such healing. She only knew that she would have been desolate without the healing, would not have been able to enact her most important plan if she had to casually stroll through the damnation of the First.

As Willow drew nearer her destination, her courage began to flag. Then she turned a street corner and beheld the source of her nightmares, and the only place she could go for closure. She must face her demons, and this time it was much harder than fighting in cemeteries and splashing through sewers, because her demons were now the dead bodies of her friends, lying in un-consecrated ground. Their voices were the whispers on the wind, now calmed by the sure knowledge of her arrival and the healing rays of that sun that continued to beat on her with a gentle force.

Sunnydale High. It lay ruined, imploded, all the walls crumpled into a vast pit. Willow carefully advanced as close to the edge of that maw as she could, her heart both troubled that she couldn’t complete her task, and jubilant that she wouldn’t have to. She had an excuse. She could just turn away, leave them crushed under concrete, reaved with swords, bitten by uber-vamps, and return to the glorious gateway and an uncertain future.

But her footsteps. They continued to quiver with golden light, and yet another vast wave of powerful ethereal energy rippled from her very body, convulsing her in shock, and before her bemused eyes Willow saw the walls of the school aright themselves, and the pit reformed into its catacombs, and the steel girders seamed themselves together with medical precision. It took only a few minutes before the school once again looked as it had when Dawn had started attending, as if their most terrible battle against the First had never happened.

And Willow thought of the blue eyes, and was deepened in wonder. She knew that this power didn’t come from her. Could that enigmatic woman, the angel, the Slayer, be the source of this miracle? And at what price? She closed her eyes and concentrated fiercely, desperately. With her hand, Willow made a violent hooking gesture, as if grabbing something, and when she opened her eyes again her gateway stood beside her, translocated from near the willow tree.

Feeling her heart bathed in icy fear, Willow swiftly opened the door. First she just looked out through her eyes, but she couldn’t see the woman. So she extended a hand through the doorway, and clenched her fist, and was surprised by the amount of pain she felt in her body. Willow retreated once more back into her own mind, sad that she hadn’t seen the woman, and a little worried about coming out of her coma completely. How bad would it be?

(You have no comprehension of pain, Willow)

(not yet, anyway)

Banishing back her gate with another wave of her fist, Willow squared off against the school. Wherever this power came from, she wasn’t going to abuse it. With full knowledge of what she would find inside, Willow walked through the inner courtyard and entered the empty, echoing hallways.

There were bodies everywhere, humans, Bringers, and ubervamps alike, and the first she came upon was that of Anya. Due to that curious healing magic, Anya wasn’t cradled on stone, but lay simply on the tiled floor, her entire torso reaved almost in two. Willow sank to the floor next to her, and took her hand. “Oh Anya,” she choked. “I hated you for so long. You were so crass, and rude, and tactless!” Willow brushed Anya’s golden hair away from her face with her other hand as she continued, “But you did love Xander, and you made him happy. And your thousand years of demon knowledge sure came in handy for the Scooby gang.”

Willow looked at the young woman then, and suddenly made up her mind. Getting off the floor, Willow walked back out of the school and started hunting for the maintenance shed around the back. It was filled with fertilizer and shovels and the wheelbarrow she was looking for. Inexplicably, it also held a large stack of white sheets, and Willow quirked her eyebrow as she took them from the shelf. It was as if the shed knew what she was needing, and gave her what she most desired. Hmm. Magic shed, but again not her own magic.

She wheeled the barrow back to the school entrance and brought it to Anya. Taking one of the white sheets, she carefully wrapped Anya’s lifeless body, then grunted as she hoisted it into the wheelbarrow.

Think, Rosenberg. Which of Sunnydale’s twelve cemeteries is closest?

Willow turned the barrow around and started out the school. Once outside she lifted her face to the sun, which continued to beam gently, not fiercely, and smiled wistfully. She began to walk Anya’s body to the nearest cemetery, Sangrevida Cemetery, which was five blocks away. As she entered through the gateway, Willow couldn’t help but remember the times she had spent in this cemetery; almost kissing Xander that first summer when Buffy was gone, eating potato chips while watching Riley doing his commando thing, taking the potentials out for Spike-hunting. The terrain was familiar, and she unerringly pushed the wheelbarrow to a secluded corner. She rounded a privet hedge and beheld a spot that was empty of headstones. Coming to a stop, Willow carefully pulled out Anya’s body and laid her in repose on the ground, straightening the white sheet around her.

Rolling her shoulders a bit against the ache, Willow picked up the barrow and returned to the school. Her next trip into the school she found Chao-Ahn, wrapped her up in a sheet, and took her to the cemetery next to Anya. As she entered the school for a third time, she noticed with a little trepidation that the sunlight was wavering a bit. Not that the sun was setting, but the light wasn’t as clear, as if the connection had been lost. Her mind whirled in speculation, and she thought again of how she had looked through the doorway and not seen her blue-eyed saviour. No matter. Lots to do, Rosenberg.

Hours passed in this painful labour, and Willow was glad it was so difficult physically. As she came upon the bodies of the potentials she would wrap them and cart them away, not yet allowing herself to think about them, about their lives cut short by this madness. It grew infinitely more difficult when she came upon the atrium and the broken bodies of Dawn and Xander. She ignored Xander for a moment, knowing his would be the most painful of all, and wishing to prolong the inevitable. She crouched next to Dawn, and touched her face, and whispered, “Little Dawnie.”

But Xander was too close, his body was right next to Dawn’s, cut down protecting her with his last breath. Willow forced herself to look at him, her part-time lover, her closest friend. With a watery gulp, Willow realized that the blow that killed him came from his blind side. “I guess there is no parrot for you, Xander,” she said softly, sitting next to him and taking his cold hand in hers. “Buffy wanted you to take Dawn away, she just wanted to save you. Why didn’t you go?” Willow choked out this last line, and suddenly she felt angry. “Why do you always have to be the selfish one? Why couldn’t you just run away, and give me a place to come home to?” She thumped her hand on his lifeless shoulder, and then buried her face on his chest, sobbing. “Anyplace you were was home to me,” she whispered.

No home for Willow, now. No family, no town. Willow straightened again, and angrily wiped the tears from her eyes. To work, Willow. Tears later.

So Willow wrapped up those bodies as well, and one by one took them to the secluded corner of the cemetery. And there was Giles, dear dear fussy glasses-cleaning Giles, Giles whom she had a crush on, Giles of the lovely voice and sensual guitar, Giles her teacher, her mentor, and her friend. There was Robin Wood, and Vi and Rona, and finally, in the pit beneath the school there was Buffy.

A little light-headed from the continuous effort of pushing the wheelbarrow, her body burning with exhaustion, Willow sat down next to Buffy’s body. “Hey Buffy,” she said a little whimsically. “It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this, you know.” She stopped for a moment, getting her breathing under control, looking down at Buffy’s body lying upright in repose, her clothes surprisingly clean, and she wondered if that remarkable healing magic did that as well. “Why do you always have to wear such impractical shoes to battles, Buffy?” she asked aloud. “I mean, we’re trying to save the world, yet you have to wear your high-heeled boots. I always thought that combat boots were the real fightin’ boots.”

Willow sighed, and straightened the collar of Buffy’s shirt, and smoothed the hair over her face. “We were supposed to grow old together, Buffy. We were supposed to live next door to each other, and cheat at bingo together, and forget to take our pills. We weren’t going to end like this, with you and Xander and Giles gone and me all alone...”

She began to cry softly, and almost wished for a tempest of tears to prove her loyalty, but her body was too exhausted for anything but a slow and terrible leak. All too soon she got up again, wrapped Buffy’s body in a white sheet, and slung her over her shoulder to lurch up the stone steps to the basement. She had left the wheelbarrow just outside the room that had held the Seal of Danthalzar (thank goodness whatever magic had recreated this place had left it out), and her knees were threatening to turn to unsupportive goo by the time she got there.

Willow felt a lot odd as she wheeled the barrow into the elevator, but at least there was no instrumental version of ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy’ playing in the background. That would have shattered her sanity for sure. When the elevator doors opened, Willow continued pushing the wheelbarrow through the now nearly deserted hallways, steering around the leftover bodies of Bringers and vamps, glad that she was nearly finished this ordeal.

When she finally emerged from the school she stopped in surprise. It was twilight, and whatever golden energy had imbued the place was fading. Not that the spell was reverting, but Willow could sense a great exhaustion, and knew it didn’t only come from her. There was still enough light to see where she was going, but she missed the ethereal sunlight from earlier; that gentle, loving light that had given her strength for her most important task.

Pushed to the very point of exhaustion, Willow had to stop half a dozen times to rest while wheeling Buffy’s body to the cemetery. As she rounded the corner of the privet hedge, Willow stopped cold, and very carefully put the wheelbarrow to the ground. Joy leaped in her heart, a bittersweet ache that hurt down in the stomach, yet filled the heart with so much gladness it left no room for any other emotion.

The angel’s back was to Willow, her faintly glowing wings tucked in by her body. Her brown hair was intricately braided with long ropes of seed pearls that glistened in the twilight sun, and her hands were extended out to the long rows of bodies. Through the pounding of her heart, Willow heard the angel say, “Oh, my darling.”

Willow was transfixed, she could not move. The whole world was suddenly silent and still, no grasses bending, no gophers burrowing, no gulls crying; just herself and the unknown saviour who was enveloped in a halo of lustrous light. And all Willow could do was look at her, her heart aching as if to break, her muscles burning in fatigue, a deep longing in the pit of her stomach, the memory of those angel’s arms, throat

(lips)

coming back to haunt her with beauty. And in a simple burst, the hideous cocoon of self-loathing shattered, and Willow’s soul emerged triumphant; a butterfly of unutterable loveliness. Tears began to trickle anew down Willow’s cheeks. She couldn’t move, only stand frozen in this surreal moment that held her in a tight grip. How long Willow watched the angel she could never after say, only that time froze in that exquisite moment, a wild and desperate love springing up from Willow’s soul.

She came back for me.

Willow looked at the angel, the blessed angel who now unfurled her wings as she crouched on the ground to touch the shrouded bodies, her white gown trailing on the ground like new-fallen snow. Love began to sweep through her soul, cleaning out the desolate places, filling her with heavy warmth until her limbs were aching to feel the angel once more, to touch those perfect rounded arms, to linger on the pulse-point in the angel’s neck, to feel the smoothness of the lips against hers. How much did the angel risk by returning to her? This woman, this Slayer, this angel, she was Willow’s hope, her salvation. Her very hands touched the bones of Willow’s soul, and shaped them anew.

She loves me.

Oh, my angel.

Willow wondered if she said that last part aloud, because she watched as the angel slowly got to her feet and turned until her brilliant blue eyes were riveted on hers. Still Willow was rooted, unable to move, scarce able to breathe.

“Willow?”

Her name from the angel’s lips sounded like exquisite music, despite the open sob in the angel’s throat. The angel’s face narrowed in concern, and then she held out her bare arms wide. The spell broken, Willow let out a low cry, and rushed into the angel’s arms. Willow melted into the embrace, feeling the angel’s arms come about her so strong, and her throat constricted in the delicious pain of seeing her again, smelling her sweet familiar scent, being so close. Her own arms were wrapped about the angel’s waist and there, surrounded by the angel’s strong protection, Willow began to sob. At the sound of Willow’s tears, the angel also began to weep, her grip tightening convulsively. Her hands tangled in Willow’s hair, and Willow felt their tears mingling on their cheeks, and they drank each other’s breath.

They stood there for a long time, neither willing to let go, neither of them wanting or needing more than this close communion. Love for this unknown woman raged through Willow as if she had never felt love before. And swift upon that realization came another; that she and the angel would never be parted again.

“You came back for me,” Willow finally sobbed.

The angel cupped the back of Willow’s neck to lift her face from the hollow of her throat. Willow looked deeply into sapphire eyes, astonished by the depth of devotion written so very plainly there. “If you wish it, I’ll never leave you again,” the angel replied, before pulling Willow in for a tender kiss.

Willow nearly swooned in delight and fatigue, letting this angel kiss her again and again, her lips now firm, now soft, always giving, giving the one thing that no boy had ever given her before. The angel finally, regretfully, pulled her lips away, then held Willow at arm’s length away from her. “My dearest, you are exhausted,” she said, wiping Willow’s tears away with a graceful hand. “You’ve been very busy,” she continued, waving her hand at the rows of bodies laying on the ground. “Will you come and rest with me?”

Willow looked around her, at the twilight cemetery, and the angel correctly answered her unspoken need. “Not here, dearest. I’ve prepared a special place for you. Now close your eyes and take my hands. This may feel a little weird.”

“I trust you,” Willow said confidently, allowing her eyes to close, her fingers thrilling at the angel’s touch. She felt a pin-prickling in her scalp, a careful shudder in her head, and then a faint whooshing noise overcame them both. Exhilarated and a trifle apprehensive, Willow waited until the world calmed around her once more.

“Open your eyes, Willow,” the angel said.



to be continued on Friday, November 16 with Chapter Twenty: Under the Willow Tree

Thanks for all your support!
Phoenix

[db]

dibs?

Really?

Coool. Be back in a bit...

ETA: Actual feedback:


Oh wow. Phoenix.

I am so glad I urged you to show Willow’s point of view. You paint her perspective with such thoughtfulness and detail… beautiful and lush and heart-wrenching detail.

What she's done with the place, indeed.

I had no idea what Tara was seeing when you ended last chapter. M8BoS didn't even want to speculate on details. Wow. Of course she would be paying tribute to her friends. Of course.

M*BoS *does*, however, want to comment on the Hebrew. Very cool. I don't know Hebrew well myself... just the shabbat and hanukkah prayers and the like, but I think what you wrote sounded lovely and very likely. I never thought much about Willow's Judiasm, but when I read this I remembered her placing the stones on Tara's grave and thought that, yeah, this is how she'd make sense of things at a time like this. M8BoS wonders where else this will pop up? It thinks that perhaps.she'll say kaddish over the graves or do the whole sitting shiva thing... *tries to remember* there's the v'ish kadal thing and, uh, with the mirrors and the water dish and kol nidre and I'm a bad non-practicing layperson Jew. Can't even find a referance in M*BoS!

*shakes it*.

*shakes it again*

*a penny falls out*

"plink"

(I got nothin')

Now. I am not usually one to be a quote-a-holic, but my feedback would be incomplete and completely remiss if I did not address your writing. Your descriptions are so lush and rich and beautiful and gut wrenching I just had to turn into a quoter. I *had* to.

The image of Willows doorway was exquisite – but the moment when she turns away from the promise of Tara to find and pay homage to her friends:

No time for the living, for the dead cannot wait.

What a very rich, multi-layered Willow sort of perspective. You really caught her sense of honor and willingness to do the hard-but-right thing with this sentance.

And then there were her goodbyes to Dawn and Anya and Xander and Buffy. Imagine having to carry the dead bodies of the people you love most. these people were her family. ***shiver*** My heart broke for her. Of all the goodbyes you wrote (and all of them made me choke up), Willow’s goodbye to Xander was the most heart wrenching of all:

“Anyplace you were was home to me,”

So simple. So gut-wrenchingly true. So stab me in the heart, why dontcha? Jeez

Of course, reprimanding Buffy for her footwear was a hoot! I might have mentioned this to my TV screen once or twice in the past myself. Just saying.


Which brings me to my favoritest favorite quote of all. When Willow and Tara see each other again, and Willow realizes she came back for her:

And in a simple burst, the hideous cocoon of self-loathing shattered, and Willow’s soul emerged triumphant; a butterfly of unutterable loveliness.

Man. You have a sexy @ss way of stringing words together. Wow... and *yeah*. Willow *does* have a cocoon of self-loathing and Tara *is* the person to help her shatter it -- but wow, what a description!

plus

Her very hands touched the bones of Willow’s soul,

Yeah. That just about says it all.

Beautifully, *beautifully* written.

Thank you,

…and also, bravo.



db

[katjetson]

Why, hello again. And to this update I say --

She crouched next to Dawn, and touched her face, and whispered, "Little Dawnie."

For all my "Shut up, Dawn!" cursing during the "Once More with Feeling" big screen viewings, this crushed me. I could almost hear the tears during the words squeaked out of Willow's mouth.

re: Xander

"Anyplace you were was home to me,"...

Oh, boy. You really tapped into the water-works with this update.

But you offset it with a small chuckle-worthy thought of Willow wondering why Buffy always went into battle so fashionably dressed.

And worse than "Oh, boy," is the Oh, God, I muttered when I read the Angel Tara say to her Willow, "If you wish it, I'll never leave you again."

I love that Willow just could not return to her life until she closed the chapter on her friends lives by giving them a proper goodbye and burial.

I'm looking forward to reading about this special place that Tara has prepared for Willow.

Zowie and zoinks! This is one helluva fic! Thankyouthankyou.

[ceridwen]

Sweet!!!

Willow's waking up in the next chapter (I hope)

I can't wait to see what's coming

[chance]

Exquisite.

The image of Willow carefully pulling her friends out of the carnage and giving them all a resting place is haunting and beautiful. Loved her saying goodbye to Xander and Buffy.

M.

[wimpy0729]

Oh wow, this was so terribly heartwrenching, and yes, this was exactly what I thought Tara was seeing Willow doing. I just knew Willow had to take care of her friends, her true family, one last time. My heart broke over and over again as she spoke to them, and then finally lovingly, took them to their final resting place. You're writing was absolutely beautiful here.

I know it's going to be repeated here many times, but I really loved when Tara told her, "If you wish it, I'll never leave you again". Again, so beautiful.

Now of course, a little cliffhanger here about where Tara took her. Is she finally going to wake up??? Oh, I can't wait!

Simply amazing, and brought tears to my eyes.


Wimpy

[LittleBit]

It certainly does, but there’s no true joy without knowing true sorrow, is there? More magic coming up!

Well I heartly agree with this statement and you are certainly showing the sorrow. Your writing showed the anguish that Willow had to endure to attend to her task .. but I do hope that after she finishes resting she returns to bury the dead for that would be closure.

Waiting with anticipation for the next installment.

[Shaucker]

T the P:
First off, I want to say sorry that I don't have the work done. Thanks to crushing deadlines on school projects (thanks, pile of half-finished chairs!), I haven't been around to finish yet. Hopefully, it'll be done by the end of the weekend, when my load will be slightly lighter.
I'm actually kind of glad I got to read the chapter first; I really screwed up some of the coloring.


Great update, very sad and very moving. I can't wait until Willow and Tara actually meet.

[Zampsa1975]

excellent update-y goodness... Great to see things happening from Willows POV. I guess that Willow is just about to wake up from her coma. I hope that she transfers her love for the "angel" straight to Tara when she sees her.

[dlline]

Hello and Welcome to Diane's Angsty Rant Wednesday!

Sorry for that. I have so much to say about this update, but I've already taken it apart, so I just really want to offer an overall view. Again, there is a lot of truly deep stuff at work here, but my favorite part is the way this update became about closure. I wrote an email earlier to a friend about the importance of growth and maturity, and how the act of closure can often be a defining moment in our lives. The day comes when we see in ourselves that it's time to move on, so we do whatever it is that we need to do, whether it be bury our friends or simply make the choice to leave them behind and move on to something more appropriate for our current plane of existence. It's a terribly hard thing for many of us to do, but it can be equally cathartic as I believe it was for Willow here in her coma. I'm so glad to see her making the changes, being brave enough to leave her past and move on to an uncertain future. Good for her.

And good for you. The levels of imagery are breathtaking, as usual, and I'm once again awed by this writing thing that you do and the fact that you honestly believe that I can offer something to your level of skill. That pretty much rocks my socks and I wanted to thank you in public for that, so big thanks for welcoming me into your world, and more thanks for a great update.

Diane

[Zooeys_Bridge]

whew, okay.

so, initially i had expected something somewhat different. not that what you have written isn't beautiful(it is, i'll get to that in a second). it's just that during the week my brain had time to imagine all on its own. boy, did it have a hard time doing that. your updates are so quick and magical my imagination has been left out of a job!

just to share what i had pictured happening; something along the lines of Willow fixing things herself (not that she doesn't in yours, she just does it very differently from how i pictured it). I saw her tenderly sowing the earth and planting and helping the earth to grow again. i guess i just conveniantly left out the 'city' part of Sunnydale when i thought about it, i just imagined a beautiful and bright garden tilled and worked by willlow.

i sort of forgot everything else. which is why yours of clearly better! becuase you haven't left anything out. closure, as Diane pointed out is the point here and you can't have closure if you forget very important parts of the story.

Back to you: The garden I imagined is so very similar in a total metaphoric way to your story. shining in what i assume was Taras healing energy and her love(is that right? if i'm wrong, its still beautiful) gives willow the strength to do what she has to do. running for her life(s) under Calebs monstrous tortures, willow barely had the time to slowly seep in the damage done to Sunnydale. The act of walking through town, not running, but witnessing everything in detail was clearly another form of torture and required an immense amount of strength just to walk.

i loved the description of her very steps healing everything. It was very vivid and i saw everythign clearly-from the bright red of her Converses(which I loved, that alone says something about who this Willow is, as opposed to her wearing some stylish black boot type shoes willow might have worn in cannons late season six and seven.). I saw the light of her footsteps oozing through the ground sending a golden glow, and with each step i saw gentle puffs of dust crawl along and evaporate. very very nice.

another gift-

She only knew that she would have been desolate without the healing, would not have been able to enact her most important plan if she had to casually stroll through the damnation of the First.

that made it clear to me the importance of the subconsious healing as opposed to willow physically trying to rebuild. if she had to do that, she never would have reached the closure she so needed-her friends' bodies. thanks for that, it helped me understand so much better. you're so good!

every body she came across must have taken so much from Willow, i can't even imagine. i find it somewhat sad that in most fics i've read(primarily comprised of w/t unless otherwise recommended) writers downplay the relationship between willow and xander and focus more of buffy. i can't figure out why. yes, buffy is important to the development of Willow, indeed her very appearance changes willows life.

but xander and willow have the distinct relationship becuase they knew each other long before buffy or any of us did. i think joss kind of lost touch with that after season 3, and just sprinkled in little reminders throughout the rest of the series(xander showing willow the scooby dance in 'The Replacement', willows "you couldn't have figured that out in tenth grade?" in "The Gift", etc;)
M. McGregor, who is a writer of Xander fics does a beautiful job of making the xander-willow relationship palpable, important, and believable. so i thank you for the tender scene of Willow mourning over Xander and showing just how important he is to her. brava.

willow built a garden of bodies, infinately more difficult than planting seeds and showering water on dirt. bodies that willow needs to properly(and finally) mourn and say goodbye to. she must literally bury that part of her past behind so she can walk down that glowing highway to be with her angel. willow knew she couldn't just leap forward into consciousness, no matter how tempting it may be, becuase she'll never be really awake until she deals with herself.

their reunion is beautiful and full of love and hope and i can't wait for willow to open her eyes. my one question is: will willow return to dig the earth and bury her loved ones, or was rescuing them and taking them to the cemetary enough? did tara take her to the highway and the willow tree or did tara bring her to consciousness? i would assume tara took her to the tree, beucase i would expect willow to have to walk through her own door to wake up, but the way you said

a pin-prickling in her scalp, a careful shudder in her head, and then a faint whooshing noise overcame them both

it sounds very similar to the way tara mind-surfs. but then again if willow came back to consciousness, wouldn't there be the pain like that she experianced when she brought her fist through the door?

these and slightly more important questions to be answered on friday.

beautiful and tragic and filled with wonder. i run out of words! i think i've used the same four over and over again, i hope that it conveys what i mean.

[Alcy]

Hi there Phoenix,
I almost screamed aloud when Willow shut the door and stayed in Sunnydale, still if she’s not ready then I’ll just have to hang on a little longer won’t I? As twisted and tormented as she is, the hell that is Sunnydale is at least hers and she feels as though she belongs there. While we the readers know that there is something for her in the outside world, in her state of consciousness she has little idea of who Tara is…and certainly knows less of Tara than Tara does of her – therefore making it easier to keep her distance whereas Tara struggles.

Willow’s personal mission to bury her dead friends is heart-breaking but makes me admire her courage all the more. Seeing each of those familiar characters dead also reminds us that almost everyone we usually associate with Willow is gone and that hurts too.

The last part of the chapter is beautiful and definitely changes the way Willow was thinking earlier, her doubts about the angel and the extent of her feelings for her. We can now see that Willow loves Tara just as much, although she knows so little about her. I can’t wait to find out what has happened in Willow’s world after Tara’s latest intervention.

Alcy

[tazraven]

Ack! Excuse my lack of feedback once again. I sometimes forget. There's just too many things to remember.

Anyways, awesome few chapters. As I've said before, your writing is fantastic. The enormous amount of visuals and imagery is astounding, and I honestly feel as though I'm reading poetic prose. I don't want to repeat what everyone else has said, as they all see the same amazing quality in your work that I do, but it really is all beautiful. I find it very impressive that you're able to make gruesome scenes into beautiful passages.

And now, onto the story. Holy crap. Tara can't give away her pain, the preacher is, in essence, holding her hostage, and still Tara wants to wake up Willow. Althanea has been sent from th Gods to help Tara, and even she can't save her. And while I'm slightly confused as to how Tara will be able to live happily ever after with Willow, I don't doubt for a second you can accomplish it. All I can say is, I can't wait for Willow to wake up tomorrow. Thank you for writing this piece. It's fabulous.

~Sara

[Tara the Phoenix]

Feedback response time!

db
Congrats on the dibs! You seriously crack me up. I could just see the M8BoS (that’s the Magic 8 Ball of Speculation for anyone who doesn’t know) in your hot little hands, a penny plinking out. I’m glad you enjoyed the Hebrew. Thanks to Zooey’s Bridge for that. As for Willow’s goodbyes, I wanted to make them meaningful, and I’ve always felt that she had a deeper connection with Xander than she did with Buffy. That phrase, “Anyplace you were was home to me,” just flowed out of my fingertips with barely any effort. I’m glad it did.

So simple. So gut-wrenchingly true. So stab me in the heart, why dontcha? Jeez

I’m really rather chuffed that I can get such a response from my readers. Get ready for some heart-pounding joy, coming up soon! Thank you so much for a fabulous feedback, db!


katjenson
Good to see you again! In a little evil maniacal way, I’m glad you were crushed. It means that all my hard work is paying off.

But you offset it with a small chuckle-worthy thought of Willow wondering why Buffy always went into battle so fashionably dressed.

It was something that always made me go ‘huh?’, Buffy wearing her high-heeled boots in a battle. It just seems so frivolous to me. Maybe because I don’t have the necessary center of gravity to pull it off (I’d break my ankles). Besides, Willow at that point was so tired; I wanted her to have a Willowistic thing to say. Thanks for reading, and I know you’re going to enjoy the next instalment.


ceridwen
Thanks for chiming in!

Willow's waking up in the next chapter (I hope)

Umm.... Actually, no. But it is soon! You poor kittens, I’ve been saying that for so long... I just don’t want to miss out on the glorious stuff that can happen between our two favourite girls while they are in the safe place of Willow’s mind. The minute they’re out, the relationship has to change, for Willow is Tara’s patient, and there are limits. So forgive me for having fun with them while it’s okay to.


chance
Hello again! Thank you so much for taking the time to post a comment. I really appreciate it.

The image of Willow carefully pulling her friends out of the carnage and giving them all a resting place is haunting and beautiful.

Thank you. I really hope you enjoy what happens next. Thanks for reading!


wimpy
Always glad to hear from you, girl! I’m glad your speculations were correct, but I’m also glad I can still throw you a curve ball from time to time.

I know it's going to be repeated here many times, but I really loved when Tara told her, "If you wish it, I'll never leave you again". Again, so beautiful.

And it is so Tara-ish, isn’t it, to put that disclaimer in the front. She doesn’t want to impose her will on Will (forgive me!) so she adds that. She is also very aware that Willow is more free in her mind than she might be on the outside. Remember when Willow was debating whether to kiss Angel Tara for the first time, and deciding it would be okay because no one else could see? Tara suspects this, and is a little worried about how far Willow’s love will extend once she awakens from her coma. As always, thank you for reading!


littlebit
Sweetie, you quoted from my feedback! How cute!

Well I heartly agree with this statement and you are certainly showing the sorrow.

I do hope I’m not showing too much sorrow. There’s just a lot of stuff to deal with. I promise, you’ll find some bits of joy in this next update, I guarantee it! And like I mentioned to masterjendu earlier, there is all sorts of fun to be had in the waking world. Keep reading to find out!


Shaucker
No worries, friend! I know how insane life can get. I’m just glad you took on the project at all. I will be happy to showcase your work whenever you are ready, and I’m sure my kittens will love it. School is infinitely more important. Thanks for sending me the link to your page; I enjoyed seeing your stuff.

Great update, very sad and very moving.

I’ve really got to start with the hugs and puppies. Good stuff coming right up!


Zampsa1975
Always good to see you!

Great to see things happening from Willows POV.

I’m actually finding it quite difficult to write in Willow pov, seeing as I have spent so much time in Tara’s head. I agree with Diane that a story should have a single main character, and mine is definitely Tara. However, it is nice to bounce the pov to someone else, to provide greater depth or clarity to an issue. I am actually planning on having a Donny pov coming up. I hope you enjoy this next update and thank you for always commenting!


dllightful dlline
Sorry, couldn’t resist sharing that one. I’m such a spaz. Thank you so much for proofing this update before I posted it; it only served to make it better. And yes, I do honestly believe that you can offer something to my level of skill. Glad I could “rock your socks”. (I was going to say something about Bobby’s comment about a certain sock, but I’ll just refer readers to your wonderful story and let them read about it.)

I'm so glad to see her making the changes, being brave enough to leave her past and move on to an uncertain future.

I’m going to take a page from your book, Diane, and try to write reality. What that means in this instance, is that this act of closure, while infinitely important, will not be the last one. Anyone who has suffered abuse or had a traumatic experience knows that there are cycles of feeling; something previously thought closed and done with can get reopened at any time. So, yes, Willow is getting her closure, but it may not be the end of it. We’ll see. Thank you thank you always Diane.


Zooey’s Bridge
Some compliments for you on the Hebrew! The Kittens liked it! Thank you for sharing it with me. I guess I really went in a different direction than you thought. In a way I’m glad; I don’t ever want to become completely predictable, where’s the fun in that? I could have Wimpy finish the story, or something. Instead, I’m glad I can share little moments of delight with you. You had some wonderful questions in your feedback, but I don’t dare answer them for fear of giving them away! Suffice it to say, it won’t be long for you to find out.

made it clear to me the importance of the subconsious healing as opposed to willow physically trying to rebuild. if she had to do that, she never would have reached the closure she so needed-her friends' bodies.

That was hard to write what I meant without Willow just spelling it out (which wouldn’t have fit the timbre and tone of the story). It was Tara healing Willow that allowed the streets and buildings to heal. Remember Tara thinking it was all in vain, taking so much that one day? If she hadn’t, Willow wouldn’t have been able to go into the school to get the bodies. Willow said that she recognized the power wasn’t hers, but she doesn’t even begin the realize the depth of pain Tara went through to provide this moment of closure for her. Funnily enough, Tara doesn’t even realize it either. She doesn’t know yet the consequence of her healing Willow that day, and how it made it easier in Willow’s mind. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the next update!


Alcy
Thank you for taking the time to comment. I haven’t left any on VR yet, and I apologize. I’m actually doing some typing work for my mom today and I’m sneaking in this update stuff whenever I can. I’m glad you had such a strong response to Willow closing the door, it means my words are working!

While we the readers know that there is something for her in the outside world, in her state of consciousness she has little idea of who Tara is…and certainly knows less of Tara than Tara does of her – therefore making it easier to keep her distance whereas Tara struggles.

At this point, Willow does not even know Tara’s name. She doesn’t even know what Tara is; whether an actual angel, a Slayer; she has no idea. All she knows is that whenever she is around Tara, she feels the waves of utter devotion. Who wouldn’t respond to that? Lots of questions need answering, and some of the answers are coming right up.


tazraven
Don’t ever worry about late or no feedback. I’m just glad you are reading and enjoying.

The enormous amount of visuals and imagery is astounding, and I honestly feel as though I'm reading poetic prose.

(blushes shyly) Gee, thanks. I must admit that this piece is the most lyrical I’ve ever written. It is a reflection of Tara herself, I’m hoping. Some of my other work (this is my only W/T, but I’ve written a ton of other story) is quite blunt, depending on the tone of the piece. It’s a bit of a challenge at times to make it like this, to create a story that is a symphony, and I hope I’m accomplishing even a bit of it. Thank you for your kind comments, and thank you for taking the time to feedback when you are busy with your own story. Like I said earlier, what a start! How often are you updating yours? Take care, and I hope you enjoy the next chapter.


And I do want to thank all those who have stayed with me throughout, and I hope you are still reading and enjoying.
masterjendu – can’t thank you enough for the comments you share, you help make each update better!
halo – hope you’re still reading and enjoying. Take care!
junecleavage – busy at work on the sequel to Night of Broken Glass? We can all hope! Hope you are enjoying this.
river – thanks for commenting earlier. Hope you enjoy the update!
JujuDeRoussie – thank you for being with me throughout this piece. I know real life gets in the way sometimes. Hope you’re still reading and enjoying!
JustSkipIt – my thoughts are with you. Thank you for supporting me so much. You’re a rock!
willowphile – thank you for chiming in. Enjoy the next chapter.
writerfreak – haven’t seen you again; hope you are still enjoying. Take care!
theblew – maybe you are busy at work on First Touch. I can always hope! Relish the next update, okay?
spells42 – thanks for sticking around, hope you’re still having fun.
jessicamelusine – the KB is a blast, isn’t it? I hope you’re still having a good time roaming about.
kaia – thanks for the offer of help. I may have to take you up on it soon, as I have a doctor problem coming up soon. I hope you’re still enjoying the fic.

Okay everyone! Update is in a few hours. See you then!

[Tara the Phoenix]

Chapter Twenty
Under the Willow Tree

Willow opened her eyes, her jaw dropping in amazement as she took in the panorama around her. She let go of the angel’s hands reluctantly, but did so she could turn in a complete circle, her eyes feasting on the spectacle. For someone who had naught to eat visually but a steady diet of devastation and apocalyptic ruin, Willow gorged herself on the lush vegetation surrounding her and the haloed angel.

She and the angel stood atop a bluff with a wide river gorge tumbling endlessly beneath them, mountains rising blue and hazy in the distance, enveloping them in a protective embrace. The bluff was carpeted in sweet grass, red poppies, and delicate blue flax flowers, somehow the same cerulean colour as the angel’s eyes. They stood near a single tremendous weeping willow tree that thrummed with living energy. It wasn’t merely a feast for Willow’s anguished eyes, but for all her senses, for she heard the water frothing in the gorge beneath her, and the shrill shriek of a golden eagle dipping through the pearly sky. She could smell the crushed grass under her feet and a faint hint of honeysuckle coming from the angel’s hair. Willow could feel the gentle rays of the sun and a delicate mist arising from the boiling water in the gorge, alighting on her skin like delicate moths.

In one turn Willow took all this in, and her heart, already brimming with the aching joy of seeing her saviour once again, overflowed in the sweetness. She felt thick with it, a languid peace that began to ease her fatigued muscles. Willow finally returned her gaze back to the angel, and inhaled sharply in surprise, her hand coming unbidden to cover her mouth.

The angel was bathed in the pearly sunlight, fine mist from the tumbling water setting her golden aura aflame. Her soft wings were outstretched once more, and her face showed indescribable longing tinged with ageless sorrow, a sadness so deep and malignant that it brought a lump to Willow’s throat. The seed pearls glistened in her chocolate brown hair, light waves of which cascaded down a creamy bare shoulder. Her bodice was even more intricate than before; long thin ropes of pure beaten gold crisscrossed underneath her gently heaving breasts, the starlight fabric underneath cascading to the ground like fairytale wishes. If it were possible, Willow would admit that the woman simply got more beautiful with every passing moment here in paradise.

And as Willow stared at her angel with wonder in her eyes, feeling small and ugly and insignificant, the angel did grow even more glorious; the feathers on her wings dipped in gold, and pure gold bracelets running up her arms, an emerald jewel appearing just above her brow, suspended there by a gold circlet. And, if anything, the angel’s expression got sadder the longer she stood there, swayed by the whims of Willow’s desire. “Willow,” she finally choked, reaching out a perfect hand to the slender witch.

“Who are you?” Willow stammered.

“May I show you?” the angel timidly replied. At Willow’s nod, and under her bewildered eyes, a shimmering cascade overcame her, erasing the wings and the star-studded gown, to be replaced by powder blue scrub pants, a white scrub shirt with dolphins and half-camels on it, a stethoscope around her neck and familiar red Converse sneakers on her feet. The seed pearls in her hair melted, her hair drawing back into a lowly ponytail, and then upon the angel’s face cracked three long slashes and the horrific yellowing of a slowly-healing black eye. And the angel’s careworn face fell, and she almost turned away in some sort of shame.

Willow would have none of that, for whatever light had previously surrounded the angel, imbuing her with mystery and glamour; that light had now permeated her very skin and bones so she radiated from within. Even with the memory of the exquisite beauty of the angel so fresh in Willow’s mind, she now thought to herself that she’d never seen another woman quite so beautiful.

“My name is Tara Maclay,” the woman said, ducking her head and blinking her eyes. “I’m your nurse.”

“My nurse?” Willow stammered. “You’re not a Slayer? However did you defeat Caleb? And why do you look like an angel? And what happened to your face? How are you even here?” She approached her angel

(nurse)

as she barraged her with questions, raising one of her hands to gently stroke the gashes down Tara’s face. Willow was glad to see a small measure of Tara’s sorrow melt in her tender questing touch, along with a quirky smile at all of Willow’s questions.

“It’s a l-long story, Willow,” the woman

(her name is Tara)

replied. “And I promise you I will share it. As for how I am here, I have special mind-reading powers granted by the goddess Aranaea. I’m actually at the head of your hospital bed with my fingers on your skull. Through that connection, I can come here into your mind and talk to you.” Willow opened her mouth to start another barrage of questions, but Tara continued. “But look at you, you’re trembling,” and she took a hold of Willow’s fingers that had been touching her face, “will you please rest a while?”

Willow nodded, interlacing her fingers with Tara’s as her nurse steered her toward the shimmering curtain of willow leaves. “The goddess Aranaea?” Willow asked as she walked hand in hand with her saviour, revelling in the feeling of a woman’s slender fingers entwined with hers. “Does that mean you are a witch?” That would make sense to her. Tara nodded, drawing back a section of that leafy curtain and Willow peered inside the comfortable tree womb to see a blanket on the ground and a half dozen pillows strewn about. She entered, stooping a little under the branches, and sighed in admiration at the sunlight glowing through the green leaves, casting the place in soothing shadows.

“Yes, I’m a witch, as are you,” Tara said, stopping in the sylvan glow. “Now, Willow. I’m your nurse, and I command you to rest! Sit against the tree, lay on the blanket, whatever you wish.” Tara squeezed Willow’s hand, then disentangled her fingers.

“You’re not going, are you?” Willow asked, a note of panic in her voice. The whole place felt surreal to her, like a bubble that would pop the moment Tara left, stranding her once again in plain old Sunnydale, with only a whisper of memory that things could be different. Tara only smiled at her, and drew her closer to the trunk of the tree, picking up a pillow and handing it to her. Willow noticed how carefully her nurse sat against the trunk of the tree, almost wincing as if in pain of some sort, setting her stethoscope on the ground next to her and carefully placing a pillow behind her back.

“Where will you sit, Willow?” she asked, fixing Willow with a clear gaze.

Willow gulped. She knew exactly where she wanted to sit, but could she possibly ask this enigmatic and beautiful woman what she really desired? “Could I sit with you?” Willow stammered hopefully.

The woman’s face brightened, a full smile gracing her face, and Willow could see the new scar tissue on her cheeks tighten. Tara didn’t answer, merely patted the ground next to her. But to Willow, even that close just wasn’t close enough, so she rallied her courage and headed straight for her angel who read her intent and opened her legs. Willow burrowed between them, leaning back against Tara’s bosom, finally contented, her head coming to rest just under Tara’s shoulder. She sighed as Tara’s arms came about her to encircle her waist, hearing Tara softly gasp.

“Will you tell me your story, Tara?” Willow softly asked, loathe to break their fulfilling communion with anything louder than a whisper, yet her mind burning with curiosity, a million questions fluttering up to her lips. But for the first time in her life, Willow kept herself under control; she dammed the flood of words that usually spilled all willy-nilly from her mouth, thinking that she would do anything to sound grown-up and wise in front of this most exceptional woman.

Tara sighed, and Willow’s heart fell. She was asking too much, too fast. She shouldn’t be sitting here, all comfortable with this woman who she’d never actually met in the flesh. But once again Tara seemed to anticipate her thoughts, and her grip around Willow actually tightened, keeping her close. “Willow, I’m not sure if you will be able to remember any of this when you awaken,” her nurse began, and Willow’s heart fell even further, plummeting into unknown depths of fear. The thought was intolerable, that her precious moments with her angel could be lost when she awoke from her coma. As much as Willow wanted to protest, her mouth remained shut, and she waited for Tara to continue. “My story isn’t so pleasant that I wish to tell it twice. Can you wait until you wake up, darling?”

And with that one single word, Willow was saved from her despair. Darling. No one had ever called her darling before. That word coming from Tara’s mouth felt as luscious as whipped chocolate, and Willow actually licked her lips in delight.

“I’ll always wait for you,” Willow replied, snuggling deeper into Tara, wrapping her own arms over Tara’s arms, not catching the wince of pain that coloured Tara’s face as she did so. It felt so good, so right, to lean against that warm, womanly body, to smell the sun-kissed brown hair, to be enveloped by someone who obviously cared for her deeply. But where did this loving concern come from? Was this Tara only acting as a loving nurse should? Was all this just part of her job? Willow’s mind, always cursed with frenetic activity, continued its cyclone of thought. Who was this woman?

“You’ve been very busy since I left,” Tara said a few minutes later, her voice tentative, as if afraid to startle Willow from her relaxation. “I saw you try to come out once. Why did you stop?”

“It was twice,” Willow replied, turning her head so she could look up at Tara. “The first time was when I saw you, and you looked so startled, so hurt...and then I looked out later again, but I didn’t see you there.” As Willow spoke, she remembered the way the streets and buildings healed themselves, giving her enough strength to bury her dead friends, and she was spiked with curiosity.

“Would you tell me what you did? I saw you gathering the Scooby Gang,” Tara said.

Willow’s eyes widened in incredulity and she saw Tara’s face crinkle in almost-mirth. “How much do you know?” she asked the brunette.

“Relax again and I’ll tell you,” her nurse said, and Willow complied, returning to face the leafy curtain of the willow tree, leaning softly again into Tara’s lush body, then allowed her eyes to close, caught under the spell of Tara’s rich voice. “I know that Buffy is the Slayer, and that you and Xander joined her and her Watcher, Giles, to combat the forces of the Hellmouth. I know you had many battles over the last seven years, and saved the world from destruction at least a half dozen times.”

Her voice grew even quieter, her lips nearly brushing against Willow’s ear. “And I know that this last time was the worst. Althanea told me—“

“You’ve spoken to Althanea?” Willow asked, turning again to look at Tara’s face, their lips only inches apart, and Willow was stricken with desire.

Tara lifted her hands to gently push Willow’s head to face forward, chuckling a little. “I swear, Willow Rosenberg, if you won’t rest...”

“I’ll be good,” Willow replied quickly. Every time Tara touched her, her whole body thrilled to it, and she momentarily thought of devising ways to have Tara touch her some more. Yet she was desperate to hear the rest of this story; all her most guarded secrets revealed by someone she’d never even met. So she faced forward again, took a deep breath, and continued listening.

“Althanea is here with me in the hospital room right now,” Tara continued. “Between her and Angel I got the story, how you brought the Potential Slayers to Sunnydale from all corners of the world, how Buffy found the scythe and battled Caleb, and then the battle inside the high school.”

The words weren’t spoken offhand, yet Willow knew that this woman couldn’t really appreciate the severity of their war. She couldn’t resist shuddering as she remembered Buffy fighting the ubervamp in front of the potentials, the horror she felt as Xander staggered towards her, blinded in one eye. Seeing all of them, all of her dear friends, her family, tossed so meaninglessly on the stricken floors of the high school, their blood spattering the tile, their heads dashed to pieces and all the precious memories in them left to leak away.

Her nurse let her sit in this terrible recollection, then Willow remembered that Tara had asked her to share what she was doing. “I couldn’t just leave them there,” Willow began. “I almost came out, when I saw what had been done to your face, but then the voices of my friends began to shriek at me, calling for release.” A thought dawned in Willow’s mind, and she couldn’t resist the urge to face Tara again, as she excitedly asked, “But I’m in a coma, right? This could all be make-believe. My friends could still be alive!”

Tara’s arms tightened around her, and the nurse nuzzled her neck as she stammered, “I’m s-sorry, Willow. They are all dead, all except for Faith.”

Deep inside, Willow knew. It made sense now that she had never come across Faith’s body as she stumbled through the streets of Sunnydale, chased by the maniacal Caleb. Sorrow overwhelmed her once again, but this time she was too tired for more tears. She felt tired as she never had before, a deep weariness of life and all its disappointments. “Why go on?” Willow whispered over the great lump in her throat. “Is there anything to make life worth living?”

Willow’s eyes burned with pent-up sadness, and her body began to tremble anew. She lifted her hands to cover her face as full realization slammed into her with destructive force. They really were all dead, they left her behind in a world teeming with vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness. And because of what happened to Buffy before, Willow knew they were all in heaven. A place of happiness and contentment, no fear, no doubt. They were there, and she was thrust into hell, to be pursued and reaved by Caleb, to be left behind once again. She was always getting left behind. There would be no resurrection now, no way to bring them all back to her. Willow would face the forthcoming decades of her life with no foundation, no support group, no family.

The thought was intolerable, and Willow writhed in pain, great tearing sobs erupting from her chest. She curled her knees up to her breasts and curled her head in them, rolling herself into a little ball, anything to protect her from the hideous truth. From deep within her pain, Willow heard Tara choke, “Dearest heart,” and then felt Tara’s hands on her, pulling Willow’s knees sideways over one of Tara’s hips. Thus cradled sideways, Willow felt those magnificent arms reach around her, embracing her tightly. Willow brought her hands down from her tear-streaked face to grasp Tara tightly around the waist, hearing the nurse gasp slightly.

“I saved the world, Tara,” Willow finally whispered. “But not for me. Never for me.”

Willow felt forsaken as Tara lifted one of her hands away, but then she felt Tara lift her head with delicate fingers. Willow gazed into the depths of Tara’s cerulean eyes, seeing steely resolve mixed with abject devotion. “No, Willow,” her nurse gently disagreed. “Love and pleasure beyond imagining await you. You have only to wish it.”

(I know what I wish...)

Tara used her hands to brush the tears from Willow’s cheeks, and Willow saw Tara’s lips descending to her forehead. She closed her eyes as she felt the tender kiss, but then she opened them again, suddenly very sure of her heart’s desire. Willow lifted her face and caught those lips with her own. Tara stiffened momentarily in surprise, but then she moved her mouth against Willow’s. The first kiss was tentative, the second was mind-blowing.

And the third was cataclysmic.

Willow felt the rumbling deep inside her, as the walls of her sexually repressed prison weakened under the tender thrusting of Tara’s tongue. Her earlier kiss with her angel was desperate, born of devastation and ruin, seeking, seeking some safe harbour from the memory of Caleb and his ferocity. This kiss was much the same, as Willow sought support from Tara, casting her umbrella of need over them both and she felt simultaneously joyous and ashamed. Was this what Tara really wanted?

But then Willow had no more time nor space in her addled brain for such rumination, for Tara engulfed her in passion. Willow gladly succumbed to it, raising her hands from Tara’s waist to alternately caress her face and stroke her hair. Tara’s tantalizing fingers remained cupped on Willow’s face, using them to lift her ever higher, higher, her lips engulfing Willow’s mouth, tilting, shifting, sharing, possessing.

Trembling in exhaustion and delight, Willow finally broke the kiss, wrapping her arms protectively about the woman, tucking her head back on Tara’s shoulder. There was no mistaking the gasp of pain, and Willow pulled back to look at Tara’s scar-ravaged face. “Did I hurt you?” she meekly asked, cursing herself for her stupidity. Just like her, to get so absorbed in her own joy and just-been-kissed exultation and completely miss out on what was happening with her angel.

“No, darling, it wasn’t you,” Tara replied, smiling through her wince of pain, gesturing at her chest. “I just got hurt a little while ago, and it hasn’t quite healed yet.”

Willow pulled even further away, incredulous. “Then why did you let me lean against you? Tara?”

In response, the brown-haired nurse merely wrapped her arms around Willow once again, and drew her back into her protective embrace. “Because I’m desolate without you,” she whispered, and tenderly placed another kiss on Willow’s lips before leaning back against the tree once more.

Willow could only look at her, and the love that sprang up in her soul was nourishing her, filling her with warmth and beauty. “Who are you?” Willow whispered.

“I’m the woman who’s going to make you happier than you’ve ever been.”

The words were spoken so softly that Willow could barely hear them, yet they hammered into her heart with explosive force. Could this be what Tara meant earlier? That life would yet be worth living? Willow could almost believe her, if this was but a taste of life with Tara in it. Her previous life, always reeling from disaster to disaster, turned to ashes in her mouth.

And Tara was chocolate.

To roll the taste of Tara on her tongue, the sweetness of it, to drown in the velvety sugar tide, savouring every moment, it could be the most worthy work of her lifetime. No more hellmouth, no more demons, vampires, incubi, succubae, werewolves or ghosts. Just chocolate.

Just Tara.

So they sat, in this moment frozen in time. Here, under the umbrella of the weeping willow tree, time fell off the face of the earth, opening a doorway into eternity. Unlike the freezing of time through terror or sleep, this was a moment of unutterable peace, as the connection between the two tortured souls solidified and deepened, connecting their hearts not only to each other, but to the universe.

A puzzle with only one solution. They could find peace only in each other. For Tara no amount of healing power, of racking up the blood debt, could compare to the completeness she felt with Willow in her arms, her love’s red hair trailing over her breasts. And for Willow no amount of witchcraft, no last-minute solutions to apocalyptic problems, no security in her brainy power could compare to the wholeness she felt in Tara’s embrace. For once she didn’t have to be brave, didn’t have to be the big guns, didn’t have the weight of the world pressing on her. This moment, frozen in time.

But all such moments end. And Willow finally recalled what Tara had asked her before she fell into tears. “I’m burying them,” she blurted out.

“Sorry?” Tara said.

“You asked what I was doing in Sunnydale. I had gone to the high school to get their bodies, I couldn’t just leave them there, resting amidst the Bringers and the ubervamps. So I got a wheelbarrow and brought all of their bodies to the graveyard.” Willow felt the tears begin to choke her throat once again. “I’ll bury them, and then they’ll be gone.”

“The act is more symbolic than you may realize, Willow,” Tara responded. “By burying them in the graveyard in your mind, you are making them a part of you. They will never really be gone; they will live forever in you.”

“Are you going to leave me again?” Willow whispered, clutching at Tara’s arms.

“No,” Tara firmly responded. “I’m sorry I left the last time. I should have stayed, to help you through this.”

“I’m sure you had better things to do,” Willow said wistfully.

“When you come out, you’ll understand,” Tara said dryly. “But I won’t leave you now. Althanea is on the outside, helping to sustain me, and you and I will walk out of your coma together.”

Willow relaxed a bit under the firm determination in Tara’s voice. A few minutes passed, and then Willow said, “Thank you, Tara. I’m not sure if you can ever realize what you mean to me. I mean, how much I appreciate what you’ve done. Well, you know, with the thing with Caleb and all, you looked so much like Buffy did when she was doing the slaying, so hot and fast and you will tell me what happened with Caleb, won’t you?”

Tara chuckled. “I know, I babble,” Willow said. “It’s just, I’m really grateful for you. And I usually don’t use so many words to say stuff that little, but do you get it at all?”

“I do.”



to be continued on Tuesday, November 20 with Chapter 21: In The Graveyard.

Va pup,
Phoenix

[tazraven]

Oooh, dibs!

I'll be back...

And once again, your abilities astound me. I'm not going to repeat what I said earlier, but it's still all true. Amazing writing skills, beautiful word choices, just awesome. Willow burying the bodies, while super depressing, is very beautiful, especially what Tara said about the act, and how they will always stay with her. It's getting close now, and I just can't wait until Willow joins the waking world once more.

Lastly, that kiss. The romantic in me hopes that Willow will wake up and see Tara and instantly know her as her angel. But the realist (I know, an odd word for a fictional universe, but bear with me) in me, thinks that Willow will forget everything and have to re-discover Tara. But that kiss was amazing. Very sensual but, and I hate repeating myself but yes, exceedingly poetic. Once again, great chapter.

As for my story, thank you for the compliment, and in answer to your question...

How often are you updating yours?

I posted a bit prematurely for the first chapter, but I plan on updating every Sunday and Wednesday, save for a few breaks. Thanks again for the feedback and awesome chapter.

~Sara

[ceridwen]

This chapter was so cool, i loved the whole time they spent under the willow tree.

I just don’t want to miss out on the glorious stuff that can happen between our two favourite girls while they are in the safe place of Willow’s mind. The minute they’re out, the relationship has to change, for Willow is Tara’s patient, and there are limits. So forgive me for having fun with them while it’s okay to.

Nothing to forgive, i hadn't thought that far ahead, you know? I thought that once Willow woke up they'd live happily ever after, but you're right, its gonna be a while before that happens, so, i'm gonna enjoy Willow-Tara togetherness while it lasts

[Zampsa1975]

Great update-y goodness... Excellent hotness under a Willow tree... so now Willow have seen real Tara... I just hope that when she wakes up she will remember her love for Tara and continue from where they left off...

[dlline]

Hi Phoenix!

Again. You've done it again. I copied this update to MS Word so I could do my cut, paste, and comment routine. I finished the chapter, went back to the beginning, and still was unable to pull anything from it. It was all so good, visceral, and wonderful, that I was faced with dilemma of not knowing where to start, so I've come to the decision that your update deserves to be loved in its entirety and not dissected like a poor little frog in biology class.

I have to agree with Sara on one big thing. That kiss! Whew! I finished reading that and realized that I was sitting here with my mouth hanging open, respiration a tad bit elevated, paying a little too much attention to my lower lip with my tongue. Wow! Nicely done.

I also loved the part about Willow burying the dead in her mind so they'd be with her forever, I'm happy that she got to see the "real" Tara, blemishes and all, and whether she actively remembers Tara when she awakens, I sense that a connection this strong will survive Willow's return to the waking world. I hope so anyway, but however it goes, I know it will be great and delightful to read.

Thank you for another wonderful update.

Diane

[db]

Excellent, excellent, excellent.

I loved this heavenly place Tara built for Willow. Poor tortured Willow. I am so glad she has Tara there -- and that they both now know that the other wants them...

Which brings me to the hot smoochie action. Yummy.

Plus, very cute with the shout outs to the various W/T BtVS dialogue. My favorite was:

a white scrub shirt with dolphins and half-camels on it,

*giggle*

The image of Willow keeping the honored-memory of her friends was lovely and touching, and the humanizing of Tara touching and wonderful.

And oh yeah, did I mention the yumminess of the kiss?

I am looking forward to Willow's awakening.


As always, great writing!

db

[LittleBit]

Ooh I liked this update .. it had some very happy moments indeed! I like how you are building the connection between the characters but am wary about what will happen once Willow comes out of the coma. How much/little she will remember.

And yes I too can be cute at times! ;D

[LittleBit]

Ooh I liked this update .. it had some very happy moments indeed! I like how you are building the connection between the characters but am wary about what will happen once Willow comes out of the coma. How much/little she will remember?

And yes I too can be cute at times! ;D

[LittleBit]

Ooh I liked this update .. it had some very happy moments indeed! I like how you are building the connection between the characters but am wary about what will happen once Willow comes out of the coma. How much/little she will remember?

And yes I too can be cute at times!

[wimpy0729]

Again, everything so breathtaking and beautiful here, and that barely does it justice.

Tara showing her true self was so sweet, with Willow still thinking she was beautiful.

Now we can see their connection growing ever deeper, and part of me (the very optimistic part) is thinking some part of this is going to stay with Willow once she comes out.

Willow knowing the truth that her friends are truly gone, the realization really hitting home, was so devastating. But I loved several things Tara told her to let her know that a new and better life awaited her. Ex: "Love and pleasure beyond all imagining await you. You only have to wish it." "I'm the woman who's going to make you happier than you ever have been." And of course, "I'm desolate without you." Simply, Wow!

I'll be so happy when Willow can finally carry out the final part of putting her friends to rest, and I'm glad she realizes they are in a better place. She will, indeed, carry them as a part of her forever.

Finally, Tara staying with her to finish her task, and then walking out with her just gives me tingles all over. I can't wait for this exciting moment.


Beautiful, amazing job once again.


Wimpy

[JustSkipIt]

Phoenix - I'm short of time and these two updates deserve so very much more than I can type out in these few short minutes. Possibly I will get more written on Monday but I don't want another update to pass as I wonder if I can post better fb. So let me be very brief.

I love both updates. The fact that Willow would bury the Scooby Gang is quite touching (in spite of the fact that I'm horrified by the thought of burial and would cremate them if the event were in my mind). But it's touching. I'm very curious to know whether Willow's mind's Sunnydale is an exact replica of "reality" Sunnydale and whether the changes Willow makes in her Sunnydale are actually duplicated in the real place. In other words, is she physically burying them or only her mind. Another question that truly captivates me thoughout this is when certain things happen, visual changes or the creation of a place to rest, whether it is Tara or Willow or both making these creations. It's facinating and beautiful to read.

I'm touched that Tara is there with Willow as well as that Willow finds her even more beautiful now than she did before. Willow seems to be fully in love and not at all squelchy about not being gay before. How wonderful that Tara's love for her can so envelop her that is seems absolutely the normal and accepted thing to do/be/have. I love that Tara will stay with her.

I don't know what to say except I love every part of this.

[masterjendu]

Sorry I am so behind on the board feedback, Phoenix. You have given us two absolutely stunning views into Willow’s soul and love is not a strong enough word for how I felt about these chapters! I am seriously running out of adjectives.

The journey Willow takes as she suffers a complete maelstrom of emotions is both heartening and heart-wrenching; and breathtakingly written.

We get to see the strength of the Willow we all know and love. She is not just a victim terrorised by Caleb. There is a reason she is the most powerful witch in the world and I can’t wait to see more of her strength. More importantly, I can’t wait for Tara to see Willow for what she really is, and to realise again and again why she loves her.

I love how the framework of Chapter 19 correlates to that of Chapter 15; from the infusion of light at the beginning to the exhaustion towards the end. As Tara lumbers around healing Willow, sacrificing far more of herself that she should, Willow staggers through the closure of saying goodbye to everything she knows. Both are struggling through their tasks, oblivious to what the other is going through but simultaneously drawing on the strength the other provides. Superbly constructed.

...a terrific thunderstorm, dark clouds on the horizon like great black beasts charging over the land, who come with champing bits of lightning and stamping hooves of thunder.

You know how much I love this metaphor (but I thought I'd tell you again)!

The tributes to each member of the Scooby Gang were perfectly characterised. From the candid tribute to Anya, to the uncharacteristically concise “Little Dawnie”, to the grief-laden anger at Xander, to the wistful farewell over Buffy; I could see Willow saying it all. How horrible to have been through so much over seven years and to be the only one left; to have to say goodbye.

Then her Angel shows up; bliss ensues and cuts a swathe through all the hardship they have both endured.

And what chocolate-infused bliss it is! The glory of Tara revealing her true self and still robed in love, of both of them wearing red Converse!, of entwined womanly fingers, of the simple utterance of the word ‘darling’ saving Willow from despair, of the desolation they both admit to in the absence of the other, of Cerulean blue, of the cuddles (oh, the glory of the cuddles), of the confidence Tara feels now that she can love her girl freely, of Willow’s excitement and Tara’s gentle reprimands, and of the soul-stopping, breath-stealing kiss. Absolutely, positively marvelous.

Love and pleasure beyond imagining await you. You have only to wish it.

I know what I wish, too!

Thank you so much, Phoenix.

[chance]

When Tara shows Willow who she really is -- not a gold dipped angel, but instead a woman in scrubs and red chucks, and Willow thinks she's even more beautiful? That's perfect. I loved that entire moment.

Every word in this fic has magic in it, it's just beautiful.

Thanks.
M.