Willow18: Welcome...glad to have you along for the ride. That 'big gun' line sort of sparked the place in the story arc for me to put this story.
Yeah, Anya and Willow are a hoot...I wanted to add things to keep it from being melodramatic to the nth and I thought they would be fun.
Quote:
If Willow does regain her memories, she's going to be like 'Ack! I kissed Anya.'
lol...I now have that 'Ack bouncing about in my head now...heeeheeee. Thanks for the comments.
Fragments of Perception
Disclaimer: Many rich people own BTVS and its characters...I am not one of them.
Summary: What happens when you lose yourself? (Altered timeline starting near the end of 'The Gift').
Rating: R
Feedback: Feel free to drop a line here. No posting this story elsewhere without my consent.
Part 3: One Day, One Step
I felt like hell, but it seems less and less about frat-girl Willow and her loose interpretation of ‘The Lost Weekend’ last night and more about how much I must have hurt that lovely woman currently showering upstairs. She woke up shortly after Buffy left and offered to cook me breakfast or go out and get me something if my stomach couldn’t handle waffles or pancakes. She didn’t comment on what happened, other than to ask if I thought I was having any side effects from drinking while on those meds.
I was ashamed of my behavior…I’d be the first to admit it. How could I be so insensitive while she has pretty much been the queen mother of sensitivity to my needs?
And I know she’s in pain…beyond her hand, I mean. That’s a given since she reinjured it when I got hurt. Buffy told me she originally hurt it when some woman named Glory assaulted her in the park on campus. Tara can’t say that name or even hear it without this haunted echo coming into her eyes.
She puts that pain aside for me though. And what did I do the first chance I got to pay her back?
Disappoint her terribly.
I decided that today I would make that up to her…it was the least I could do.
I asked her to take me for a tour around town, specifically to places she liked to go. She agreed amiably, but mentioned she had a meeting to go to in the afternoon. I decided to visit my parent’s house when we parted.
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My parents owned a house that was large, sparse, and antiseptic. The fridge was empty. As was the garbage can and the pantry. Clearly I hadn’t been here much more than they had. I remembered that the lawn service came on Tuesdays. That was about it.
My room was lightly decorated...a empty fish tank sat on a bureau, some kitten stationary sat atop a white desk, and the bed was made up with a tan comforter. It seemed at any moment the sagebrush would drift by and join the silence.
I opened the denim shoulder bookbag I had toted with me and picked out the photo album I had found the other night. I had been putting off looking through its pages until I could be alone. I think I was worried...maybe afraid to never recognize its contents. I sighed and opened the hand-decorated album covered with blue stars shaped in weird arrangements.
I idly looked from cover to cover, stopping occasionally to stare hard at a few pictures. There were lots of Xander, Buffy, and me with longer hair. They were meticulously labeled and arranged by year...high school photos. There were a few of Giles sitting in what I supposed was my high school library and several group photos that included a short boy named Oz and a taller girl named Cordelia. There was a thickness on this page and I pulled out several hidden pictures. A prom photo of Oz and me, one where I’m sitting in his lap, and another where he is playing bass on a stage. So once upon a time, I dated a musician. So does that make me gay, bi, confused, or lucky?
The next set of pictures were labeled College - Year One. There were pictures of the campus, Buffy and me in front of a dorm, and a Christmas at Buffy’s house. Her mom, Joyce, was in one of the photos with Dawn and I ruefully began to wonder how recently she died. Too young...too soon rung in my head.
The following section was filled with Tara pictures. She seemed camera shy, even going as far as holding her hand in front of her face in one of them. There was a stunning photo of her sleeping under a tree. Her hair slightly swept on her face as she snuggled into a jacket under her head. She looked so calm when she was totally unaware of the photographic presence…unlike the other ones. I liked this one a lot.
Then came Summer 2001 pics. There were peppy beach shots...some of Buffy with a guy named Riley, the first picture I had of Anya - with her arm around Xander, and the first shot of Tara and me together. She was sitting on her feet and I was kneeling behind her with my chin on her shoulder and my arms wrapped around her waist. I pulled that picture out and traced an outline around the blonde woman in the sand. Definitely gay...I’m most definitely gay...and lucky.
I closed the album at the last page, noting that it hadn’t been updated recently, and tucked it back in the bag. The nicely organized photo show wasn’t actually jarring anything upstairs. It was only reminding me that I had all these great memories stored just out of my reach. My head was all poundy...I had strained myself into a migraine. I checked the clock and decided to take a nap before going back to Buffy’s place.
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The floor of the room crumbled with tentacles rising from the cracks. Dead fish in an envelope. A building exploded, raining debris in every direction. A hairy creature bit the throat out of one of its own. A large green demon smashed lampposts and mailboxes. A small woman threw a larger man out a window. Floating knives. Blood everywhere.
My eyes opened in a flash and I did the only thing that was rational in that instant. I screamed. Again and again until I couldn’t even recall what I was screaming about. Tears streamed down my face. As I wiped them with the back of my hand, I discovered that my nose was bleeding. My shirt was bloody and if this were my favorite one then it would be ruined. Somehow I knew Buffy could tell me how to get out the blood. Then the coughing began. I reached the bathroom just as it turned to vomiting. When my stomach was empty and my nose was less flowy, I returned to my bedroom and found a clean peasant top. I still couldn’t remember what the hell I had dreamt.
I freshened up my hair and face until I thought I could pass for living. I retrieved the beach picture and stowed it in my back pocket. I looked at the empty fish tank and shivered.
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“Enough!” Tara practically screamed. The Willow-based topics had strewn far from her intent and she had no way to steer them back. The arguing parties in the room quickly clammed up with shock, the blonde did not raise her voice much, if any. “W-we need to tell her...it’s not safe for her to be in Sunnydale and not know the dangers.”
“We can keep her safe,” Buffy adamantly argued again. “I can keep her safe...I mean I’m the slayer.”
“Here, here,” Xander agreed, with less reluctance than he previously had. Willow seemed to be doing fine by his estimates…maybe Buffy was right. “Why do you want to remind her of all the bump in the night anyway?”
“Because she doesn’t want one of them sucking on her neck. Are you people really that dim?” Anya asked disbelievingly.
“I believe you’re in no position to talk, Anya, as you led her around town after dark while intoxicated,” Giles interjected in a disappointed tone.
“First, I was not that drunk and I got her home fine. Second, what else was I supposed to do? Ignore her like Xander?” the ex-demon pointed. “Or lie to her like Buffy? She needs a friend people.”
“So your definition of friend includes letting her stick her tongue down your throat? Because I don’t get the frenchie action from my friends,” Xander responded humorlessly. Giles lifted his eyebrows high in surprise.
“Grow up syphilis boy,” Anya taunted back. “I said I wasn’t drunk... but she was blowing in the wind. You’re just mad because she pecked you on the cheek while she sucked serious face with me. You know she could teach you a few things about kissing...she did this swirly tongue thing on the roof of my mouth that would’ve gotten me all hot and bothered if I was into lesbians.”
“Dear lord,” Giles muttered as he took off his glasses and cleaned them intently. Very intently.
Xander stood gaping at his fiancée with a mixture of embarrassment and intense thought...trying to recall the tongue action in question from the brief clothes fluke of senior year. After a quick mental review, he realized that was a feature not included on high school Willow.
“I’m just doing what’s best for Willow,” Buffy finally said, mentally happy to change the subject.
“Who gave you the right to decide what’s best for Willow? If anyone is qualified, it would be her lady,” Spike said as he motioned at Tara. “If she says it’s time to tell her about the big nasties, then we should get to it.”
“For her first lesson she should learn how to kill vampires. Now where will we find a test subject on such short notice? Oh wait…I know,” Xander asked sarcastically.
Tara ignored them and approached Buffy. “I’m going to tell her Buffy. I won’t have our relationship have secrets. I tried that once…it wasn’t good, you know, invisible demons.” She gave a pleading little grin.
“Just give us three days. Plenty of time for Giles to talk to the English witch brigade and for the rest of us to be extra bookwormy.”
“Three days…that’s it.” Tara put her arm on Buffy’s. “You shouldn’t feel guilty, you had no way of knowing this would happen.”
“Yeah and that makes it all better…I’m going to get ready for patrol.” It was still hours before sunset but the slayer couldn’t be near all the people she had let down by not fulfilling her destiny.
Anya was tired of the fighting, fear, and sadness. She walked over to Xander and wrapped her arms around him and whispered, “I just want everybody to be better. These feelings hurt.” She began to tear up and swatted at the droplet running down her cheek. “Stupid human emotions. I just want Willow to be okay and she called me her friend.”
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Dusk was settling over the sky in hues of purple and orange as I made my way up the sidewalk to the Buffy’s house. I had a few false starts before I returned here. The first was a painful reminder of how dizziness and the rise and run of steps don’t mix. My shoulder was now sporting an ugly bruise from the banister.
The second attempt was also called due to my continued light-headedness. It forced me into a two-hour recess on the couch. There were no nightmares or bloody noses when I woke up…I happily took the good fortune.
Navigating the front porch like nervous private in a minefield, I made my way into the house in what almost resembled control. Only then to be hit by a Mack truck of a teenager that flailed me helplessly into the back of the closed front door.
“Dawn?” I questioned even as her exuberant hug made me nauseous once more.
“We got pizza, extra cheese and pineapple goodness,” she tittered merrily as she backed away and waited for a response. “It’s your favorite.”
“Dawn…” Buffy raised an eyebrow.
“Okay, so it’s my favorite. Jeez…get all technical with the semantics. How many slices do you want?” she chirped.
I gave her a soft smile and patted her arm as I prepared my lie. “I ate just a little while ago. I think I’ll go upstairs and rest.” Dawn looked down disappointed but tried to hide it.
“How bout we get up good and early tomorrow morning and eat it for breakfast?” I offered, hoping that my stomach would forgive me. She nodded enthusiastically and I moved to bedroom with an apologetic wave to the pair of sisters.
Tara was in the bedroom, meditating in a thunderbolt posture. She was so stone still that I didn’t register her until after I had removed my shirt and was staring at the large portion of battered skin on my middle. Through the mirror I saw her eyes open and appreciatively look at my chest before frowning at the large expanse of purple and blues. I glanced away and gave no indication that I was watching her watching me.
I moved into the walk-in closet and changed into a knee level nightshirt and shorts. Even though the clock mocked my early departure to sleep, I defied it by curling into a tight ball on the bed.
I heard Tara get up and, judging by the rustle, change out of her workout clothes and into something else. I heard her groan a little and blow out a puff of breath. I cracked open my eyes to see her wearing a silky deep blue pajama set with long pants and a button up shirt. She was struggling with the buttons trying to clasp them with one hand.
I stood and moved to face her. She had buttoned the top two but still had four to go. I carefully secured each one, trying not to notice how she quivered as my fingers incidentally brushed against the soft skin of her stomach.
I straightened the collar of the nice fabric. “I gave you this?”
She smiled and nodded. “Last Tara day.”
“What’s that?”
“We each pick one day a month to totally pamper the other one, sort of a mini-vacation from everything. On Willow day anything you say goes. All requests are granted…anything you want to do, we do. Gifts are optional but, you know, good. On Tara day…it’s the same, except my choice.”
“Sounds nice.”
“I think so…it was you’re idea, last Valentine’s Day. You said the holiday was phony, forcing people to buy roses and cards because it was expected. You thought we should be good to each other any old time...as much as we could.”
“Sensible reasoning,” I surmised.
“I had to talk you down though. We tried to do it every week but, college and stuff makes it hectic to take two entire days a week off.”
“I bet. Did you get all your incompletes cleared up?” She nodded. “Good,” I yawned and nestled into the bed on my back.
Tara cut out the lights and slipped in beside me. She crossed over the imaginary line on the bed we had drawn out of propriety of my condition, leaned her back into the headboard, and stroked my hair with her good hand. I felt tingly. My nausea retreated as her gentle warmth permeated me through that touch.
“Mmm…that feels good,” I cooed as I turned, bring my head closer to her so she was stroking the crown of my head.
“Yeah?” she said quietly, unsure. I took her hand into mine. She slid onto her back and snuggled into her side of the bed.
We laid together in the dark, our hands clasped, finding some small part of a connection we had lost.
All you need to start an asylum is an empty room and the right kind of people.
~Eugene Pallette in My Man Godfrey (1936)
Altered Shadows
? Anyway, the mutual appreciation society is back in full force, that's a good sign. And such a moving ending, trying to recapture some of their connection, though the connection seems to be already rebuilding. I can't wait to see how they tackle the inevitable intimacy that will eventually happen, whether it creeps up on them naturally, or will there be mucho awkwardness? 
and 
how sweet was Willow when she helped Tara with her buttons. I suspect Tara needed comfort and that's why she chose the last tangible evidence of their relationship, wearing the top that Willow gave her. But then instead of forcing comfort from Willow she reaches out to her love and strokes her hair... that just so 
. Dissappointing that Giles is also in favour of not telling Willow of the potential minefield she's walking into without knowing it.
.
<------ look how cute the kitty paws are... going up and down on the keyboard like that. Up and down.... up and down.... *insert evil, black and white, spinning hypnotizing disk* up and down.... up and down.... 
well, sort of... imprisonment would be bad...but on the other hand...updates would be good...so... 
Too bad I didn't invent the evil hypno-disk... because I could've been making a fortune from disgruntled kittens in desperate need of updates to their favorite stories.) Oh well, there's still time to invent an even more devious device... a device so diabolical that I can't discuss it here... (someone may be listening... 
) 
<--- he's still chewing gum damn it! I thought I told someone to call the ASPCA! 
(I apologize 
) 
