To all you wonderful Kittens, Part 2 has finally arrived. Assume Crash Positions!
B & C,
As always-- all my love.
Title: Darkness Falls Author: KrisBo5 (Kris, obviously)
Email address: KrisBo5@aol.com Feedback: Sure, I’d love it.
Distribution: This story is the narrative form of four spec scripts I have written for BVS, each of which is registered with the WGAw, so please don’t publish it or reproduce it in any way, shape, or form. If for some reason you’d like to, just ask first. It’s the polite thing to do.
Spoilers: Season 6, “Entropy” and “Seeing Red” episodes.
Rating: The story in its entirety: PG-13 to NC–17. This includes sex, violence, language.
Pairing: Willow and Tara, first, foremost, forever! However, Buffy and the others are here as well, Buffy and Dawn most especially.
Disclaimer: Hey, I didn’t create these characters, those kudos belong to Joss and crew. I’m just borrowing them for the story I did write.
Summary: The mythology surrounding the creation of the first Slayer(it sounds like a Buffy story, but have no fear, this is all about Willow and Tara).
Note: Things from here on out? Ain’t gonna be pretty. Angst and loss and pain. Read at your own discretion.
Darkness Falls, Part Two: Maelstrom(A)
“That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.” Emily Dickinson, Poem Number 1741
The kiss was gentle at first, almost hesitant, a reintroduction of lovers separated by too much time. Then, as if the dam of indecision inside her had broken, Willow inhaled deeply, pulling Tara’s scent inside her; she lifted her hands and moved them to the blonde’s waist. A soft moan came from the back of Tara’s throat. It was enough motivation: Willow slid her hands up the blonde’s sides, barely grazing her breasts, then wrapped her arms around her and pulled her into her embrace; Tara responded in kind, sliding her hands from the redhead’s cheeks, down her neck and over both breasts, finally enveloping her lover tightly in her arms. Tara’s leg nudged one of Willow’s knees, and the redhead responded just as she knew she would; she shifted her weight to one leg and moved the other aside, allowing the blonde to take a small step closer by sliding her leg between the redhead’s.
Tara continued to draw small circles on Willow’s arm. “Well, what do you want?”
Willow’s fingers inched the edge of the Tara’s blouse up and the redhead pushed her hand underneath, letting her palm spread out over the cool flesh of her lover’s stomach. Tara’s hand fell to her side limply. Willow smiled mischievously, “I’ve got everything I want.”
The music crescendoed as Tara finally reached Willow. She stopped inches away from the redhead and sang. To her. For her. For them.
And in this cruel and lonely world
I found one love
You're still you
After all
You're still you
As the music faded away, Tara lowered her microphone. Silence filled the Bronze as all eyes remained on the two women near the back.
Tara closed the distance between them and cupped Willow’s cheek in her hand. “Surprise,” she said, love filling her voice.
Silent tears fell from Willow’s eyes. “Tara,” she whispered, completely overcome.
“Happy birthday,” Tara said, just before she pressed her lips to the redhead’s. Willow wrapped her arms around the blonde, the leather of her jacket crinkling under her fingers; she held her lover tightly, trying with her kiss to tell the blonde how much she loved her.
“Look at me,” Willow said, her voice commanding yet kind. Tara angled her head so she could look into the forest eyes of the only woman she had ever loved. Would only love. When she knew that Tara was fully focused on her, Willow spoke. “I love you, Tara,” she said in a half-whisper; and as she said the words, she eased her fingers deep inside the other woman, marveling at the softness and heat that enveloped her.
“You don’t have to say the words, Tara,” Willow said, softly caressing the blonde’s cheeks with her thumbs. “If you never said it to me again in this life, I’d still know. In my soul, I’d know it— how much you. . . .” Willow inhaled deeply. “I feel the same.”“Tara?”
“Your eyes. . . ” Willow said, her voice barely audible, “ . . . are sky-blue.” The redhead’s eyes drifted, looking through Tara, past her, beyond her. Then, they gently closed. “I never. . . .”“Tara?”
Tara blinked several times, her reverie broken by the soft voice calling her name. The blonde shifted her eyes from the small circular window before her, turning them to the figure at her side.
Dawnie.“Tara?” Dawn asked again, not quite sure the blonde was actually there, even though she was looking at her. “Are you okay?”
Okay? Am I okay? The question careened through her mind, piercing the thin veil protecting her sanity. As long as she focused on Willow, on her love for the redhead, then she was anchored. She was in harbor. Being pulled away from that sanctuary tore at her soul, thrusting her adrift in a world without shelter. Without warmth. Without Willow.
And she could not go there.
“You’ve been here almost six hours,” the teen continued when Tara made no answer.
Tara raised her hand, pressing the palm softly against Dawn’s cheek. The teen hazarded the briefest of smiles, elated that the blonde had, at last, returned to them in some manner.
I’ve been here forever. And then, the hand slowly slipped away, dropping back to her side, limp, unmoving. Tara turned her eyes forward again, staring once more through the window, through the door which posted a fluorescent yellow sign reading ‘Authorized Personnel Only.’
I’ve been here forever.Tara had watched in quiet fear as they had wheeled Willow through those swinging doors, one EMT sitting astride her lover’s pale, inert form compressing her chest in a methodic rhythm while another ran along side squeezing oxygen into the redhead’s lungs every few seconds. They were all ordered to stay out then, by some anonymous white-clothed worker who knew nothing except ‘Authorized Personnel Only.’
Willow had gone through those doors in a whirlwind of urgent, desperate activity, and she had not come out.
No one had.
So Tara remained, steadfast in her vigil, transfixed on that point, as near to Willow as she could be. Her tears flowed, but they were silent now, unheard in the din around her.
She would not move.
She would stay here.
Until Willow came back to her.
“You should sit down,” Dawn said quietly.
Tara swallowed, feeling the rawness of her sorrow coalesce in her throat. “No,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes never wavering.
“She’s right, Tara,” Buffy’s voice said from behind her. The Slayer moved to stand on the other side of the blonde, letting her eyes follow momentarily to where Tara’s led. “You need to rest.”
Tara took a breath to answer, but Dawn pressed on. “Just right over there.” The teen pointed to an anemic-yellow couch not five feet away from them. “You can still see.”
“Tara,” Buffy said softly, simply taking the wiccan’s hand in hers as tears welled in her eyes for the hundredth, the thousandth time.
Tara clenched her eyes tightly shut. Her chest felt like it was caving in on itself, her heart the victim of a Black Hole’s gravitational pull.
Willow. I have to be strong for my Willow. She’ll need me to be strong. Strong like an Amazon. She nodded imperceptibly, opening her eyes once more to the bluish fluorescent glow of the emergency room.
Dawn took Tara’s other hand, and the Summers’ sisters started the blonde across the room. Tara lifted her foot, but her muscles rebelled, having been stationary for such a great length of time; her knees buckled, and Buffy and Dawn scrambled to hold the blonde, to prevent her from collapsing.
“Tara!” Dawn yelled, throwing an arm around the blonde’s stomach.
“We gotcha’,” Buffy said, mirroring the teen’s posture.
They half-carried, half-walked her the few feet to the couch, her body trembling within their grasp.
“Here, Tara,” Dawn said. “Sit here.”
The sisters carefully rotated the blonde in their hands, spinning her around gently. The blonde’s body again protested as she lowered herself to sit, her knees giving out finally; she collapsed, landing heavily on the cushion.
Buffy and Dawn sat down beside her quickly, each clasping a hand. “Are you okay?” Buffy asked, raising a hand to the blonde’s pale forehead. Tara leaned into the Slayer’s touch, closing her eyes as a wave of nausea assailed her. “Dawn?” Buffy said, shifting her gaze to her sister. “Can you get some water?” Dawn nodded and moved away from them. “Lean back,” the Slayer said, applying pressure to the blonde’s forehead; Tara let herself be pushed against the back of the couch, her body and soul visibly exhausted.
Tara’s eyes fluttered and finally opened, staring into Buffy’s. “Buffy?”
Buffy lowered her hand, then her eyes. “I don’t know,” she at last said, shaking her head.
Tara voice quivered as she spoke. “I just got her back.
Buffy could say nothing. She simply nodded silently. So had they all.
Xander and Anya rounded the corner of an adjacent hall, heading straight for them. In their arms, each carried a dozen different vending machine food and beverage items. Tara’s eyes shifted to the carpenter and Vengeance Demon, watching them walk their way.
Willow glanced at her, then turned back to watch the road. “That’s kinda Xander’s job. Wouldn’t wanna infringe.” You’re right, Sweetie, you’re right. A small smile touched the corners of Tara’s mouth at the memory of the words Willow had spoken just that morning.
“Guys,” Xander said, stopping beside Buffy. “Where’s the Dawnster?”
“She’s getting some water,” Buffy answered, looking at him.
“We have many delicious drinks if you’re thirsty,” Anya interjected. “Much tastier than water.” She glanced at Tara, then Buffy, then Tara again.
“No,” Tara said, “no, I’m fine, thank you.”
Xander sat down in a chair opposite them, setting his load on the table beside him. “Anything yet?”
Buffy shook her head.
“No,” Tara said, clutching her hands together in her lap.
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Anya asked, sitting beside Xander. Three pairs of eyes focused on her. “I mean, it must mean something good, that they’re still working on her.” Xander shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “That they haven’t given up on her.”
Silence met Anya as each contemplated her words.
Tara slowly reached out and squeezed the Vengeance Demon’s hand.
“Yeah, it’ll be okay,” Xander said, trying to convince himself as much as the others. “Will— she’ll be just fine.”
The ‘Authorized Personnel Only’ doors swung open with a ‘zwoosh’ and a harried-looking man in a white coat stepped through them, stopping just outside.
Tara looked at him, her breath suddenly leaving her lungs.
Oh, Goddess, please. . . . He lifted a clipboard to read out loud. “Rossinberg?”
The Scoobies jumped to their feet, rushing over to him.
“
Rosenberg," Buffy corrected, her tone rather harsh.
“Yes, I’m sorry. Rosenberg. I’m Doctor Sanders,” he said, looking over the young people before him. “Are you family members?”
“Yes,” Xander said.
“Yes, she lives with me,” Buffy said.
She’s my family. Yes. She’s my. . . everything.The doctor nodded, then adjusted his glasses.
“For cripes-sake, is she alive?” Anya blurted.
Despite her lack of tact, all the Scoobies stared at the doctor, waiting for him to answer.
Dr. Sanders cleared his throat. “She
is alive,” he replied.
Buffy, Xander and Anya all breathed a huge sigh of relief, their pent-up tension fleeing from them at the words.
Tara held her breath, held Dr. Sanders’ gaze.
No, not my Willow. . . .Buffy glanced at Tara and her smile faded. “What?” She looked at Dr. Sanders. “What? She’s alive, but what?”
“As I said, Miss Rosenberg is alive, but. . . she’s on life support at this time.”
“Life support?” Xander asked.
Dr. Sanders flipped the pages on his clipboard. “We don’t have a lot of information here as to what happened.” He looked at each in turn. “Maybe you could fill in some of the blanks.”
“She fell,” Buffy said. “Off the curb, and she— she hit her face.”
“Yes,” Dr. Sanders said, nodding. “She has a minor concussion, and a small orbital fracture just below her right eye. Her nose was also fractured.” He lowered the clipboard. “All of these things can be attributed to the fall directly. I’m more concerned with— we need to know why she fell.”
“Why?” Tara asked quietly.
“Yes,” Dr. Sanders replied. “Has she been ill recently? Has she experienced any dizziness? Headaches? Weakness in her extremities? Loss of consciousness? Anything?”
“No,” Buffy said.
“How about drugs? Or alcohol?”
“No. No to all of that.”
“Her legs were heavy,” Tara said, her voice barely audible.
“I’m sorry, what?” Dr. Sanders asked, looking at the blonde.
“Sh-she said her legs were heavy,” Tara clarified.
“When was this?” he asked, beginning to take down notes on the clipboard.
“Today, b-b-before she fell. She said her legs got heavy, and then— then she said she couldn’t feel them anymore.”
“She experienced paralysis?”
“No, I mean, I don’t know, w-we told her not to move. She just said she couldn’t f-feel them.” Tara paused as the image of Willow laying in the street came rushing back to her. “She couldn’t feel me holding her hand.”
“Is she paralyzed?” Anya asked, her voice rising to an almost hysteric pitch.
Dr. Sanders again lowered his clipboard. “We’re unable to ascertain that at this time.”
“Unable to ascer— what the Hell does that mean?” Xander asked, not liking the direction the conversation was taking.
“Miss Rosenberg is in coma,” he said simply.
“Which means what?” Buffy asked.
“She’s completely unresponsive. To any stimulus.”
“Which means what?” the Slayer asked again.
Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. She’s not. . . she’s not gone.“It means, that despite the lack of any physical indicators— any medical evidence— Miss Rosenberg appears to have suffered what we call a Catastrophic Event.” Dr. Sanders shifted his feet slightly.
Tara closed her eyes, feeling her tears slide down her cheeks.
She’s not gone. My Willow can’t be gone.“In lay terms,” Dr. Sanders continued, when none of the Scoobies responded, “CE is generally associated with stroke, cerebral or pulmonary aneurysm, severe head trauma caused by a major accident, things of that nature. So you see, we’re rather at a loss because she hasn’t suffered anything like that.”
“So, what then?” Xander asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s ‘in coma’ and she’s unresponsive for no apparent reason and what? For how long?”
Dr. Sanders’ brow creased and once again he cleared his throat. “I-I’m sorry, you don’t understand. Miss Rosenberg isn’t— she’s not going to wake up.”
“What?” Buffy asked, her voice quivering.
“We performed several tests— EEG, CT, MRI, BAER— everything available, and they all showed the same results. She registers no independent brain function. I’m very sorry.”
Anya raised her hands, covering her mouth, then backed away from the group until she pressed up against the far wall.
Xander dropped his chin to his chest, closing his eyes against the stinging tears.
“She’s brain dead,” Buffy said.
Not a question.
A simple, truthful, horrifying statement.
A loud
clang! behind them made everyone jump. Turning, they saw Dawn standing just ten feet away, a metal cafeteria tray and several cups of now-spilled water at her feet.
“Dawn,” Buffy said, moving towards her sister hastily. She quickly took the teen into her embrace, holding her up as she felt the girl’s legs give out.
Dawnie. Tara wanted to go to the teen. She wanted to hug her. To tell her everything would be all right.
But she couldn’t.
She couldn’t move.
She couldn’t think.
She couldn’t feel.
She couldn’t breathe.
All of those things, Willow made possible for her. And now she was being told that Willow was gone, that she was never coming back to them.
Never coming back to her.
No. No, she’s strong. She’s strong— like an Amazon. “C-can I be with her?” Dr. Stevens stared at Tara for a moment, considering her request. “Please,” Tara said, her voice imploring.
Dr. Stevens glanced at the rest of the Scoobies. “Okay, but two-at-a-time only. And only for a few minutes.”
Buffy released Dawn with a quick final squeeze and stepped up beside Tara. “Tara and I, we’ll go first,” the Slayer said, partly for the doctor’s benefit, partly for the rest of the Scoobies.
“All right then,” Dr. Stevens replied, turning to push open the door that led to Willow. “Follow me.”
Unconsciously, Tara reached out and grasped Buffy’s hand, clenching it tightly in hers. Buffy squeezed the blonde’s hand in kind, a silent kinship shared between them.
Dr. Stevens led them down the long hallway towards the ICU/CCU where they would find Willow. Personnel and patients alike swirled around them as they walked, but neither Tara nor Buffy paid much attention. The fluorescent lights cast a bluish-green glow over the whole hallway, giving everything a sallow, sickly appearance. Tara noticed that the linoleum tile was made up of white squares, with several black squares intermittently placed here-and-there in the pattern.
One black one away from the wall, one black three away from the wall, two black side-by-side. . . what pattern is this? Too random . . . Willow . . . Willow could find the pattern . . . she would know—“Through here,” Dr. Stevens said, interrupting Tara’s thoughts.
Tara and Buffy followed him through another set of doors, these ones reading ‘Intensive Care Unit/Critical Care Unit. Authorized Personnel Only. Visitors Must Check In At Nurses’ Station.’ The ICU/CCU was shaped in a U, with the nurses’ desk in the center; ten patient beds made up the perimeter of the U, each having glass windows for walls so the occupants could be monitored visually, as well as electronically, at all times.
Dr. Stevens led them to ‘Room 9. Rosenberg, W.’ near the arc of the U.
Tara paused as she neared Willow’s room, her eyes finding the redhead through the front window. The blonde reached out to steady herself as her breath rushed from her lungs and her heart seemed to cease beating.
Willow lay in the small bed, covered up to her chest with a white thermal blanket. Her arms rested on top of the blanket, at her sides, each sporting an IV for fluids and medication. The right side of her face was one big bruise, black and blue, red and green, running from her forehead, down her cheek and jaw, all the way to her chin. The cuts on her right cheek and over her right eye had been stitched up and were now covered by tiny butterfly Band-Aids. The breaking of her nose had caused both eyes to blacken and swell. From her mouth, a small intubation tube protruded at the corner, two straps of white surgical tape holding it securely against her skin.
Tara stared silently for several seconds, trying to force her mind to accept that the woman in the bed was Willow. Her Willow. Her Life. But everything inside the blonde railed against the mere thought.
That’s not her. That’s not my Willow. It can’t be. My Willow is alive. . . so alive and warm and beautiful. It can’t be her.Tara slowly moved from the window and entered the room, stopping near Buffy at the foot of the bed. The room was silent except for the constant
beep-beep, beep-beep of the heart monitor, and the rhythmic
foosh-thump, foosh-thump of the respirator. The blonde watched as the Slayer hesitantly rested her fingers on the silver railing in front of them, seemingly too afraid or wary to touch Willow herself. Tara squeezed Buffy’s hand gently before she edged around the bed, walking the few steps needed to stand beside Willow. She softly slid one hand into the redhead’s, giving it a light squeeze; when none was returned, Tara felt fresh tears sting her eyes.
Tara continued to hold Willow’s hand as she raised her other, gently caressing the wild auburn hair off her face; she bent down and pressed her lips to Willow’s forehead. “I’m here, Sweetie,” she whispered. She stood back up, but both hands remained, one stroking the redhead’s hair while the other held her hand.
I’m right here with you, my love.Buffy looked at Dr. Stevens. “There’s— there’s nothing you can do?”
He shook his head sadly. “No. I’m very sorry.” He paused. “I understand this is a very emotional and difficult time for you,” he started, his eyes wandering to the young blonde woman caressing his patient’s face and hair lovingly, “for all of you. But, there is something that I need to discuss with you.”
“What?” Buffy asked.
“Do you happen to know if Miss Rosenberg had made any decisions with regard to organ donation?”
Beep-beep, beep-beep. Foosh-thump, foosh-thump."
What?!" Buffy exclaimed, her voice rising in utter disbelief. “Did she what?”
Dr. Stevens raised his hands in a calming gesture. “I know that sounds callous—”
“Sounds?” Buffy asked, taking a step towards him angrily. “Sounds callous?”
Tara closed her eyes, trying to blot out their words.
Oh, Baby, please.Buffy pointed a finger at Willow. “Not five minutes ago you tell us that Willow’s never gonna wake up, that you don’t have
any fuckin’ idea why, and now you wanna just pull the plug and cut her up? Just like that?” The Slayer snapped her fingers to emphasize her point.
“Please,” he said, again gesturing with his hands, “you have to understand, we’ve done everything we possibly can for her.”
“Except give her a chance,” Buffy replied evenly.
Dr. Stevens lowered his hands to his sides, nodding his head in silent understanding. “There’s no way I can possibly know how hard this is for you, but I can see you all love her very, very much.”
Tara opened her eyes, focusing on Willow once again.
More than my life.Buffy crossed her arms over her chest protectively.
“I’m just a doctor,” Dr. Stevens said, “I try to help people. That’s my job. Some days, I can— and that’s a great day.” He glanced at Willow briefly. “But, some days, no matter what I do, no matter what I know— I can’t. I can’t do anything.” He sighed. “Today’s one of those days.” He clasped his hands together. “Even though I can’t help Willow, I am still a doctor, and maybe I
can help a dozen others— maybe Willow can.”
Buffy stared at him silently as tears finally fell from her eyes. She looked at Tara. “I don’t know. Tara?”
Tara blinked hard. “She is.” She rubbed her thumb over the back of Willow’s hand.
“Her family’s Jewish,” Buffy said, still looking at the blonde.
Tara smiled. “She’s a scientist,” she said, finally turning to the Slayer. “It’s what she wanted, Buffy,” Tara said, casting a sad smile in Dr. Stevens’ direction. “To help people.” With that said, she turned back to Willow, her tears falling onto the redhead’s pillow one after the other.
Dr. Stevens looked at Buffy. “Does she have any next-of-kin? Parents? Siblings?”
“Parents,” the Slayer answered. “They’re out of town doing some lecture or something.”
“Even with a donor card, hospital policy dictates that we try to have relatives notified and involved in the process. Do you know if they’re reachable?”
Buffy took a deep breath. “Yeah, I think Xander can reach them. Everything happened so fast, we haven’t really had a chance to call . . . anyone.” The Slayer’s voice trailed off as the weight of everything suddenly came crashing down on her.
“You can use my office,” he offered, taking a step back towards the door. He held a hand up in a ‘right this way’ gesture.
Buffy dropped a hand to the bed again, this time touching her beast friend’s covered foot. “Be right back, Will.”
Dr. Stevens looked at Tara. “Miss?”
Tara realized he was referring to her suddenly, and she pulled her eyes away from Willow’s face to look at him.
No, no, no, no, no. Please, I can’t leave her. I won’t. The wiccan’s eyes found Buffy’s, pleading silently with the Slayer.
Buffy’s mouth drew into a straight, determined line as she faced Dr. Stevens. “She’s staying,” the Slayer announced. “She’s staying— with Willow.”
Dr. Stevens shifted uncomfortably. “It’s against hospital policy.”
Buffy blew a sharp breath out through her nose and edged closer to him. “Again with the policy,” she said to herself.
“I’m sorry, but your policy? You can stick it. She’s staying right here.”
“But—”
“Doctor, I’m gonna tell you this just once, and I really hope you understand, cause if you don’t? Well, we’re gonna have a little problem.” He swallowed, recognizing in the woman before him a strength and power he couldn’t quite name or understand. “They are together. And she’s staying.” Buffy stared into Dr. Steven’s eyes, making sure he was hearing her. “New policy.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it. He cleared his throat nervously. “Ah, I’ll— I’ll make sure it’s all right.” He turned quickly and left the room, leaving the two women together.
Beep-beep, beep-beep. Foosh-thump, foosh-thump.“Thank you, Buffy.”
Buffy walked to Tara, standing close beside her, looking down at her best friend. She covered Tara’s hand with her own and squeezed, willing all of her strength through the wiccan’s flesh, into the limp hand of the redhead they both loved so much. “I’ll. . . go talk to Xander,” she said. Tara nodded, more tears streaming down her face. Buffy placed her other hand on the blonde’s cheek, willing her strength into her best friend’s soulmate as well. Without another word, Buffy left.
Left Tara alone.
With her Willow.
Beep-beep, beep-beep. Foosh-thump, foosh-thump.Tara watched Willow for several minutes, standing silently at her side, observing the steady rise and fall of her chest as oxygen was forced in-and-out of her lungs; observing the calm, peaceful expression on her face. She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds in the room: the heart monitor, the respirator, the dripping IV’s; all of those sounds making Willow live.
Keeping her alive.
Beep-beep, beep-beep. Foosh-thump, foosh-thump.Keeping her alive.
Tara opened her eyes to Willow again.
No, no, no, no, no. She’s alive— without these things. Tara lifted Willow’s hand and carefully sat down next to the redhead, cradling her lover’s hand between both of hers.
My Willow is alive.“It’s just you and me, Sweetie,” she said, watching Willow’s face intently.
Beep-beep, beep-beep. Foosh-thump, foosh-thump.“You know,” the blonde started, sniffling as she spoke, “if you wanted to be alone with me, you could’ve just said so.” Tara smiled as she adjusted the blanket. “This really wasn’t necessary.”
Beep-beep, beep-beep. Foosh-thump, foosh-thump.Tara traced the veins in Willow’s hand with her fingertips, back-and-forth, back-and-forth. “I know you’re there, Love. I know you’re not gone. . . .” She scooted up the bed, moving closer to Willow, laying her lover’s arm across her lap. “You’re warm,” she whispered, raising a hand to Willow’s forehead. To her cheek. To her throat. To her chest.
Thump-thump. . .thump-thump. . .thump-thump. . .thump-thump. “Willowheart.”
Beep-beep, beep-beep. Foosh-thump, foosh-thump.*****
“Yes,” Xander said into the telephone receiver. Buffy stood at his side, watching his every movement, listening to every word. “No, I— I don’t think so, Mrs. Rosenberg.” Buffy’s brow creased, and Xander mouthed silently ‘pain.’
Buffy seemed to shrink back away from him as she registered what Willow’s parents wanted to know: was their daughter in pain? Was Willow in pain? The Slayer leaned a hand against the phone booth, steadying herself, while Xander stared down at his feet, nodding his head several times.
“Yes,” he said again, lifting his wrist to read his watch. “I’ll tell him— yes, Dr. Stevens. No, V-E-N-S. Okay. Okay.” He paused. “We will. Yes, we will.” He lowered the receiver to its cradle, his hand remaining, holding it tightly. He took a deep breath.
Dawn and Anya walked over to them and stood silently. Buffy took hold of one of Dawn’s hands, drawing the teen closer to her side.
Xander finally turned to face them all, leaning back against the phone as if all of his strength had been sapped. “
That was so not fun,” he said, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
“What’d they say?” Dawn asked.
He shook his head. “They’re. . . they’re. . . .”
“Hysterical?” Anya asked, trying to help.
“No,” Xander said, looking at Buffy. “They were really. . . calm.” Everyone stared at him. “They just kept saying ‘uh-huh’ or ‘I see’ and asking about her doctor and if she was in pain.”
“Not how it happened?” Dawn asked, confused by Willow’s parents’ behavior.
“Are they coming back?” Buffy asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, but the only flight they can catch is in eight hours. They said they’d call their Rabbi to come over and see her. But they’ll be here.”
“What— what’d they say about. . . ?” Buffy’s voice trailed off, totally incapable of saying the words ‘organ donation.’
“Nothing really, just ‘uh-huh’ and ‘sounds like Willow’ and then something, I don’t know, it sounded Jewish. I didn’t get it. I just said ‘uh-huh’.”
Buffy nodded. “Eight hours,” she said, mostly to herself.
“What do we do now?” Anya asked, looking at each of them for guidance.
The Slayer brushed Dawn’s hair behind her ear, and gave the teen a sad smile. “I’ll tell Tara.”
Dawn grabbed her sister, hugging her tightly. “I love you.”
“You, too,” Buffy said. She released the teen and gave Xander’s arm a light squeeze before she headed back down the hall.
After several seconds, Anya turned back to the remaining Scoobies. “What are we supposed to do now?”
*****
Click-click, click-click, click-click. . . .
Madrine’s heels echoed in the darkness of the cement-stepped stairwell leading down beneath the house. Below her, at the foot of the steep descent, she could see flickering orange-yellow torchlight glowing, basking the room in a warm hue.
As she reached the last step, Mr. Bellum appeared from around the corner. He bowed slightly. “Madam.”
Madrine touched his arm briefly before she moved around him into the room.
She froze.
A smile touched her lips as she took in the room’s appearance. Her dark eyes took on an otherworldly aspect as they reflected the torchlight.
Mr. Bellum walked up to her side, very delighted to see his mistress’ pleasure. “Is this satisfactory?”
Madrine’s eyes roamed every inch of the room, her smile growing wider as they did. “It’s perfect. Just perfect.” She looked at him. “Have you heard from Fonce?”
Mr. Bellum smiled.
*****
Tara watched as a nurse replaced one of Willow’s IV bags, the blonde’s hand never stilling its gentle movement over her lover’s skin. The nurse smiled at Tara, a smile the blonde recognized instantly as a ‘you poor soul, you don’t understand, do you’ smile; the nurse then picked up the empty bag and her paraphernalia and left the room.
Beep-beep, beep-beep. Foosh-thump, foosh-thump.“Willow,” she said, her hand sliding up the redhead’s arm, stopping just inside the sleeve of her gown. “I know you can hear me, Baby. I know you’re in there, and you can hear me.” Her thumb rubbed back-and-forth over Willow’s upper arm as she spoke. “You have to open your eyes, Sweetie. You have to give them some sort of a sign that you’re in there.”
Tara wiped her cheek on her sleeve, feeling a sudden desperation filling her soul. “They don’t know you, Willow. They don’t know how strong you are. How brave.” She leaned forward, her face an inch above the redhead’s. “You have to show them, Love, you
have to show them.”
Beep-beep, beep-beep. Foosh-thump, foosh-thump.“I miss you, Willow. I miss your beautiful eyes looking at me.” Tara pulled Willow’s hand between them so it was pressed against her heart. “I miss you touching me.”
Beep-beep, beep-beep. Foosh-thump, foosh-thump.“Please don’t do this, Willow,” Tara whispered, tears falling onto her lover’s face. “We promised— we’d never leave each other again. You promised me, you promised me always. Always and forever.” Tara squeezed Willow’s hand tighter. “You can’t leave me now, Willow, not after everything. Not after you promised. You can’t.”
Beep-beep, beep-beep. Foosh-thump, foosh-thump.“Tara?” Tara turned towards the voice behind her, finding Buffy standing in the doorway. Tears stained the blonde’s cheeks as she continued to stare at the Slayer silently. Then, she slowly shook her head, letting her friend know there had been no change.
Buffy walked into the room, stopping on the other side of the bed, opposite Tara. She took Willow’s hand in hers, squeezing it softly. “Hey, Will,” she said, clearing her throat. “Still playin’ possum, huh?”
Tara smiled at Buffy’s attempts to alleviate her pain. She sat up, facing the Slayer. “Did you r-reach her p-parents?”
“Xander,” Buffy started, nodding several times, “he spoke to them.”
Thank you, Xander.“They’ll be here in about twelve hours.”
Thank the Goddess. Beep-beep, beep-beep. Foosh-thump, foosh-thump.“I don’t understand,” Buffy finally said, her voice cracking, her composure crumbling. Suddenly, she began to cry, sobs racking her small, but strong frame.
Tara set Willow’s hand in her lap, then reached out for Buffy’s. The Slayer grabbed onto it, as if it were her lifeline. Tara slid her other hand from beneath Willow’s sleeve, moving it to the hand laying in her lap. Tara and Buffy held one another’s hands tightly, as tightly as they held Willow’s, their tears flowing freely as they grieved their loss together.
No, not loss. She’s not lost. She’s here. Willow’s here. She’s still here.Minutes passed as they both wept over Willow’s still form. Then, Buffy sniffed loudly, shaking her hair out of her face and taking several deep, calming breaths.
Tara could see the Slayer armor going back on, plate-by-plate, and she smiled inwardly.
Always so strong.“How can this be happening?” Buffy asked, her voice still shaky. “She’s only twenty-one years old.”
“I d-don’t know,” Tara said, again wiping her tears on her sleeve, not wanting to release either woman’s hand.
“She was happy,” Buffy continued, trying to comprehend the incomprehensible. “She was
so happy. You were together again. She wasn’t doing magic anymore.” Buffy looked at Tara, trying to find in her wiccan friend’s face some kind of hint, some kind of answer.
“I don’t know,” the blonde said.
“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind them. They turned to see Dr. Stevens in the door.
Buffy squeezed Tara’s hand, then released both the blonde’s and Willow’s. She walked across the room and moved past him outside, leaving Tara alone with Willow again.
Beep-beep, beep-beep. Foosh-thump, foosh-thump.Tara remained still, her eyes staring aimlessly at the white blanket covering Willow.
Beep-beep, beep-beep. Foosh-thump, foosh-thump.The constant, monotonous sounds from the machines lulled Tara into a trance-like state, and she found herself replaying different events that had transpired.
“Don’t open your eyes.”Her nightmare, the violent and horrifying images of her home and loved ones in peril. Of the monsters shrouded by mortal masks, grotesque and inhuman nonetheless.
‘ She has come home.’The words, written in human blood, meant for the Slayer.
“My name is Madrine. . . I’ve come for my soul.” The nightmare woman’s proclamation to the Slayer.
The machete arced down, slicing through the woman’s collar bone and neck, planting itself deep in her spine; blood spurted out of her neck across Buffy’s face and chest, continuing to pump out in time to the woman’s heartbeat.
“Th— than. . . k. . .” the woman gurgled, blood draining from her mouth; then, Buffy watched as she exhaled her final breath.Buffy’s nightmare become reality.
A morphing flash. A blurring, dizzying vapor and their true faces appeared to her: bodies, twisted like cordwood, blacker than the night; scorpion-taloned tails oozing yellow pus, curling over their backs; ovoid-shaped heads; their mouths, lined with razor-sharp needle teeth, in the center of the forehead; and their eyes, blood-red narrow slits, protruding from their cheeks.Nightmare creatures becoming reality.
“You— you will lose everything. Everything that you love, have ever loved. You will watch them go before you.”Madrine’s vow to the Slayer.
“It means, that despite the lack of any physical indicators— any medical evidence— Miss Rosenberg appears to have suffered what we call a Catastrophic Event.”Tara’s worst possible nightmare become reality.
Dizzying images swirled around in her head, making her blood roar in her ears. And then, without warning, without trying, it came to her.
The connection.
The answer.
It crystalized to a sharp point, and Tara sat up straight, her eyes dropping to the pocket of her skirt. Carefully, she reached inside and withdrew the Kleenex. Holding it in one hand, she unfolded the mashed tissue until the minute brown sliver was exposed. She lifted it up to her eyes, inspecting it under the bright white lights, noticing for the first time its perfectly carved shape. Its man-made, perfectly carved shape.
It’s not a stinger. It’s a. . . a dart. It’s. . . . “Damn! I got— something stung me!”“Poison,” she said out loud.
The realization washed over her like a tidal wave, drowning out everything around her. She clenched her fist until her whole body shook.
“You— you will lose everything. Everything that you love, have ever loved. You will watch them go before you.”Tara squeezed her eyes shut as her heart hammered uncontrollably in her chest.
No, no, no, no, no. “Promise me. . . Protect Buffy. . . Promise me. . . she’s the Slayer. She’s too important. . . promise.”Tara opened her eyes again, tears welling as soon as she saw Willow. “I won’t let this happen— not to anyone else. I won’t.” She leaned over and pressed her lips to Willow’s forehead, letting them linger for several seconds.
I love you, Willow. I love you. Always and forever. She caressed the redhead’s unbruised cheek, her eyes memorizing every inch of her lover’s face. “I’ll keep my promise, Love, I’ll protect Buffy. I’ll protect everyone.”
“Tara?”
Tara jumped slightly at Buffy’s voice. She sat up quickly, shoving the Kleenex back into her pocket as inconspicuously as possible. “Oh, uh, Buffy,” she said, wiping a tear from her cheek.
Buffy retook her place opposite Tara, her hands limp at her sides. Her brow creased as she looked at Tara’s almost agitated manner. “Are you okay?”
Tara cleared her throat and nodded.
I’ll protect her. “Um, yeah, I— I’m oka— what did he want?”
Buffy took Willow’s hand again, this time holding it between both of hers tightly. “Just, you know, about what we talked about.”
Tara nodded.
No, I can’t be here. Not for that. Not to say goodbye.“Tara?”
Now or never. “Um, can you stay with her?”
“Of course. Where are you—”
“I just want to go. . .” Tara said, pointing in a vague direction outside the room.
Buffy nodded. “It’s to the right.”
Tara smiled, then looked down at Willow.
Beep-beep, beep-beep. Foosh-thump, foosh-thump.Tara raised Willow’s hand to her lips, placing a soft kiss on its back. “I’ll see you soon, Love,” she said, returning her lover’s pliant hand to the bed. Tara turned away then, stopping at the door. “Thank you, Buffy.”
Buffy smiled, then turned her attention back to her best friend.
Tara left the room, looking to her right and immediately seeing a door with a small placard card reading ‘Women.’
She took a deep breath and looked to her left.
‘EXIT.’
I love you, Willow. I love you. Always and forever.She walked left.
*****
Tara pushed open the exit door slowly, hovering in the archway. Night had fallen, casting an eerie quiet over everything around. The parking lot was half-full, and she noticed several people wandering from their cars towards the hospital entrance.
Now or never.Tara walked outside, letting the door slam shut behind her. She had taken only a half dozen steps when she felt it.
A feeling of wrongness and evil and . . . darkness.
Pressing on her senses.
From every direction.
She stood stone-still, waiting, willing herself not to run.
And then they appeared.
From all around her, figures began to show themselves, walking towards her at a casual, though purposeful, gait. As they drew nearer, Tara could finally see them.
Some wore vampire faces, their fangs glowing in the neon of hospital light.
Some were human, dressed more for Beverly Hills than for Sunnydale.
And some were. . . she didn’t know what they were. In her worst nightmares, she could never have imagined them. All the horror stories she had read, all the demons she and the Scoobies had faced, they were nothing compared to these things coming at her.
She felt her body begin to shake as terror took hold.
As she stood paralyzed, a black limousine pulled up to the curb in front of her. The back door opened and Tara’s eyes grew wide as she watched the two monstrous scorpion creatures exit and move towards her. One reached for her, but Tara pulled back, hugging her arms to her chest.
“Don’t touch me,” she said, praying that her voice held enough threat to keep them off of her. The creature paused, then turned to the side, indicating she should go to the car. She felt herself taking a step. Then another. Left. Right. Left. Right. Then, she was there, just outside the door.
A whitish-grey, three-fingered hand reached out from the black interior of the car, offering assistance.
Tara hesitated. She turned back to the hospital and raised her eyes to where Willow’s room was.
Always and forever.She lowered her eyes and faced the limo. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand in Fonce’s and let him guide her into the back seat beside him.
The door closed behind her.
The limousine pulled away from the curb and drove into the darkness.
*****
“Why don’t you ever touch me, Willow?”
And in this cruel and lonely world
I found one love
You're still you
After all
You're still you
“Now, thank me again, Willow.”
“You, young lady, are very naughty.”
“I j-just. . . I just love you so much, Willow, and sometimes I feel like. . . .”
“I promise, Willow. I promise I’ll protect her.”
“I love you, Willow. I love you.”
“Willow, please. . . please don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone.”
“Do you happen to know if Miss Rosenberg had made any decisions with regard to organ donation?”
“She’s staying— with Willow.”
“I know you’re there, Love. I know you’re not gone. . . .”
“I know you can hear me, Baby. I know you’re in there, and you can hear me.”
“You have to open your eyes, Sweetie. You have to give them some sort of a sign that you’re in there.”
“They don’t know you, Willow. They don’t know how strong you are. How brave.”
“You have to show them, Love, you have to show them.”
“I miss you, Willow. I miss your beautiful eyes looking at me.”
“I miss you touching me.”
“We promised— we’d never leave each other again. You promised me, you promised me always. Always and forever.”
“You can’t leave me now, Willow, not after everything. Not after you promised. You can’t.”
“I won’t let this happen— not to anyone else. I won’t.”
“I’ll keep my promise, Love, I’ll protect Buffy. I’ll protect everyone.”
“I’ll see you soon, Love.”Willow’s eyes fluttered.
Tara. . . I hear you. . . . Slowly the redhead forced her eyes to open, blinded instantly by the harsh whiteness of the hospital lighting.
Tara?Beside her on the bed, for the hundredth time, Buffy raised her eyes to Willow’s face.
Willow’s eyes were open.
“Whoa!” Buffy exclaimed, staggering off the bed in total shock.
Willow looked at her.
Buffy smiled as tears ran down her cheeks.
“TARA!”End of Part A
Kris
"Frell that!"
maybe we should be more "busy", thus more talk ensues 
want update 
by IsayAmberBensonsgorgeous » Fri Jul 26, 2002 4:34 pm 
love the nagging, yep feel like harassing Kris all over again
or pout or both and it would be just wrong! *hope that was enough harassing material for one post*
you. you're SO cute (in a totally threatening : -->
, harassing way for Kris!) when you get all large with the butch just for me 
and for this you can have all the "chips" in the world from me 
you know i want you to and you want it too: so UPDATE!!!!!!!!
it was brilliantly written! and so heart-breaking and it seems i'm pretty masochistic to be returning to you begging for updates ... bad me! and worst you have my B now on the edge. that's a big NO-NO! you are aware that you must update soon. please!!!!!!! i'll stop harassing and start begging if that suits you better. just write a continuation right now and post it in a few hours then we'll, both me and B, be happy kittens for today.
at: 7/28/02 11:23:42 am