All Our Masks (Updated 3/3 - COMPLETE)

[Roger Doger]

I usually prefer stories featuring Willow and Tara as witches on the hellmouth (i.e. closer to the magic that is Buffy the Vampire Slayer). Rarely do I stray into the real-life "AU" stories, preferring more fantasy, but this time I'm glad I did venture outside a bit. "All Our Masks" is turning out to be a page-turner.

I'm enjoying it and looking forward to another update.

[Artemis]

Wonderful contrast in that chapter - the hell that Willow went through, versus the pleasant (and surprising) experience she's having as she opens up to the possibility of something with Tara. Which just makes the possibility of those two contrasting 'worlds' colliding - not just because Raimey is out there again, but because Tara has the connection to him that Willow doesn't know about, and that's inevitably going to wound her when she finds out - even nastier. Just when Willow is finally pulling herself back together, it turns out that the thing that got her out of her shell, Tara, is somehow linked to the monster that drove her into it in the first place. That's going to be a hell of a hill to climb for their relationship.

I loved the quiet scene with Buffy hanging up the phone - that was all about the power in what wasn't being said and shown. Just the guy dropping his soda said it all.

[WiccanHandprintz]

Chapter 13

“Ah, Virginia.” The rolling hills, the clear, humid air... Birdsong even in the cities. Raimey breathed deep, his hands flexing in the pockets of his jeans. He was so close, now. He fancied he could smell her, the sweet doctor. Fresh little Willow. He remembered her scent, of course, and now it was everywhere. After all, he was only a few short miles from the old house she called home. Finally.

The driving had put him off. He wasn't a big fan of driving, Raimey; it bored him. Mindless. Too easy to be hypnotized, taken in by the road. But now he was here, and soon, he'd be there.

Unfortunately, it wouldn't be as soon as he'd hoped. For one thing, there was the trivial detail of the FBI. They were casing the house, of course. Waiting for him. That would be a problem, but not an insurmountable one... when he was ready. But first, he still had that little job to take care of. Tara Maclay.

Tara Maclay.

Now, so near to his unofficial prey, Raimey allowed himself to consider his official one. The target.

Tara Maclay, the blond. She was blond, wasn't she? He remembered that. He remembered... oh, what, now... He remembered a curvy girl, all big eyes and long hair. The daughter of- yes. And Donnie's sister, of course. Donald. Raimey sneered, and then went back to his memories.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, this is enough. You want it quiet, or splashy?”

“Give it something special, Cole. A message.” He smiles, both excited and contemptuous.

“Of course. Speaking of messages, your kid's getting one right now.” He gestures towards the door, where a slight figure stands, wide-eyed, bandaged around the neck. He wiggles his fingers. A cruel thing. “Run along, girl, before I give you another... surprise.”

“So,” Raimey said, drifting casually back into the present. “Daddy's little girl did something bad, did she?”

Although, really. He wasn't that surprised. Daughters of the mob never did have it easy.

********

The plane was late. Goddamnit, the plane was late.

Buffy hated waiting. And she especially hated waiting in airports. Something about the mass anonymity, the awful melting pot of bad hygiene masquerading as sterility that always seemed to overtake the bathrooms, the faceless voices over loudspeakers... it irked her. Put her on edge. Sitting in the cheap plastic chair closest to the boarding gate, she tapped her toes and pretended away her unease. Her bag, packed in an hour and filled to the brim, made an uneven sort of footrest. In her lap, she held a paperback copy of an Anne Rice vampire novel, the spine uncracked.

After Xander's phone call, she'd checked the database. Not that she'd doubted him, per se, but... it was always nice to know for sure. And yes, it was sure. Cole Raimey was gone, and it wasn't too hard to guess where he was going.

Buffy only thanked god she was due for leave anyway.

Dawn, naturally, had been pissed. But when Buffy mentioned Willow's name, the annoyance had melted into the worry that was so natural now.

“Is she ok?”

“I hope so,” Buffy'd said grimly, and that had been that.

Now, sitting impatiently among the melange of other passengers looking to fly cross-country, Buffy wondered if she was doing the right thing. Then, as if to counter the doubt, she wondered if she was already too late.

Feeling kind of sick, the blond looked at the gray carpeting on the floor. She really hated airports.

********

“So,” Willow said, with a small smile. “It's been four days. Sorry you decided to stay yet?” She was sitting across from Tara at the dining room table, the remnants of a scraped-together Mexican-themed dinner between them. The blond's lips twitched.

“N-not yet,” she replied. “Especially since I've g-gotten so much more done with the house.” Willow laughed, for the third time that dinner. That thought made her happy. And afraid. But mostly happy.

“Yeah, well, points to you. Honestly, I can barely even recognize it. Who knew I had a floor?” Tara smiled outright now, playing with her fork.

“The w-woodwork is beautiful, you should keep it this clean.”

“Hell, the only way that'd happen is if I kept you around,” Willow tossed out without thinking. Then, in the long pause that followed, she felt herself blush. The pause was nearly, nearly awkward... but somehow not, too.

“Well,” Tara said finally, her face reddish, and then a clap of thunder cut off anything she'd been about to say. Willow jumped despite herself, and then glanced at the ceiling as if she could see through it.

“Startled me,” she said, sheepish.

“Me too.”

“It's a good thing I was never afraid of thunder, though,” Willow continued musingly. Then, looking down, “One of the few things, I guess, right?” Tara didn't answer, but tilted her head. Encouraging. Swallowing, Willow kept talking.

“My dad used to say that thunder was the laughter of God. Then, when I grew up enough to find my own religion, I liked that idea so much that I'd tell myself the Goddess just heard a dirty joke. Or, no, I wouldn't say that; my friend Buffy did. I was way too sheltered to think of dirty jokes.”

“I like that,” Tara offered, as another roll of thunder cracked across the sky. “I a-always loved stories l-like that. Never did hear any growing up, though.” There was a sadness there, well-hidden, but Willow picked it up anyway. Years of training weren't for nothing, after all, were they? She leaned forward, her hair falling across her cheeks.

“Didn't you?”

“No,” Tara said softly, dropping her eyes. “All my childhood stories were scary ones, and I didn't like those.”

“I used to love ghost stories,” Willow tried. “Did you have nightmares?” The blond shook her head, a funny sort of smile twisting her mouth.

“They weren't ghost stories... and they always came true.” Willow noted that her stutter was practically gone. And that, no matter what she said about no ghost stories, there was something haunted in those blue eyes.

“I know what that's like,” she said, very quiet. Tara looked up sharply, and Willow could see the struggle on her face: hide, or stay. It was, after all, a struggle that Willow herself dealt with almost every day. “When the monsters are real.”

A silence.

“But there's enough monsters out there already, without us bringing them into the room,” Willow added, standing. She felt strange, now. Stronger. Almost... well, almost like her old self. As if seeing even the barest shadow of Tara's pain, so different and yet so alike her own, had shifted something in her. Something that had been asleep for far too long.

“You're right,” Tara said, naked relief in her voice. “M-movie?”

“Sure. Let me get the dishes.”

And when they sat down to Practical Magic, and Tara's hand brushed against Willow's reaching for a pillow, the redhead almost jumped out her skin with the realization that she'd taken her gloves off to wash the plates... and that Tara hadn't even flinched.

[Paint the Sky]

Dibs.

Raimey gives me the wiggins, and I don't even want to think what that finger wiggling was all about - I'm trying to repress it even now.

I'm even more curuous now about Tara, I always assumed it was Raimey who left the scars on her neck, but it would seem from this update it wasn't, or am i picking it up wrong.

Either way, what could she have done to warrant such treatment, and obviously on orders of her Father too.

I've said before that the character of Raimey is well constructed, and what we see of him here just adds to the chills.

Buffy hated waiting. And she especially hated waiting in airports. Something about the mass anonymity, the awful melting pot of bad hygiene masquerading as sterility that always seemed to overtake the bathrooms, the faceless voices over loudspeakers... it irked her. Put her on edge. Sitting in the cheap plastic chair closest to the boarding gate, she tapped her toes and pretended away her unease. Her bag, packed in an hour and filled to the brim, made an uneven sort of footrest. In her lap, she held a paperback copy of an Anne Rice vampire novel, the spine uncracked.

A large chunk of narrative, I know, but it's a beautiful piece of writing and it pulled me right in to were Buffy is mentally. I really felt her impatience, her concern, an her very real worry that events may have progressed further than she hopes.

I really liked the scene with Willow and Tara. You effortlessly portrayed the easiness that has now settled between them, and there is even an intimacy in the secrets that they have yet to share with each other. But, you can see that the real bonding has begun through your words and their actions.

I love the slow and gradual build-up of trust, and how Willow knows when to pull back and just give enough to keep the relationship growing, and that Tara is composed enough to not scare Willow off either.

Can you tell how much I love this story - lol.

[Zampsa1975]

Yay for excellent update-y goodness... Good that Tara sees Willow's injuries but still sees a beautiful person she is... I hope they have some snuggle goodness...

[Sparks]

Wow, I just loved that little bit at the end about Willow's hands, so touching.

I'm really loving this story. You represent that Raimey character to be so twisted, its a really wicked representation, I must say. I'm interested to know of Tara's past, and how Willow will react when she finds out. Its also great to see Willow beginning to let her guard down around Tara. I hope we see more of that soon.

[LittleBit]

ooh that was such a sweet update!

[wimpy0729]

First, thanks for the update. I've been missing this.

You are doing an excellent job with all of the characterizations here. We're getting to see more of how Raimey and even Tara's father treated her even as a poor young girl. And this Buffy is just chomping at the bit to get to Willow to make sure she's safe, but feels so helpless just sitting at the stupid airport.

The interaction between Willow and Tara is moving along slowly, but surely. They are definitely bonding by the horror of their past experiences.

“But there's enough monsters out there already, without us bringing them into the room,” Willow added, standing. She felt strange, now. Stronger. Almost... well, almost like her old self. As if seeing even the barest shadow of Tara's pain, so different and yet so alike her own, had shifted something in her. Something that had been asleep for far too long.

I loved this. Something about knowing that Tara's been through so much pain is perhaps turning her focus from herself for a change. Nice to see Willow's old self beginning to awaken.

Can't wait to see what's next.


Wimpy

[ophelia11]

Hi there,

I just caught up on this story and it's hauntingly beautiful. The pain in both women is so apparent, yet your writing is really about the slow healing process. The angst is really well-done, though I admit to being anxious for some happier moments between W/T. The pace has been great and I love how some of those walls they've been building around themselves started crumbling down in this last update.

This was my favorite line:

...the realization that she'd taken her gloves off to wash the plates... and that Tara hadn't even flinched.

Hopefully this will prompt her to let her guard down further and to actually start trusting Tara.

Anyway, love this story. Looking forward to more.

[magicdanw]

So good! Squee! I loooove this story! WiccanHandprintz, you are an awesome writer!!!

[WiccanHandprintz]

Chapter 14

When the movie was over, it was past ten. Outside, Tara imagined, the cops or feds or whoever was manning the surveillance car would be settling in with a cup of coffee, radio turned on low. Jazz. They always played jazz at night; she'd never really understood it. Jazz made her feel oddly uncomfortable, like being alone in a shady bar. But she wasn't alone now, and Willow's hand against hers felt far from strange. Their hands, flat beside each other on the couch seat between them, had moved from not touching, to brushing, to solidly against each other through the course of the movie. Tara had been both too nervous and too indecisive to take the final leap and grab the redhead's hand, intertwining their fingers as every nerve in her body was begging her to do. Still, the warmth of Willow's skin against her own was sweet and soft and comforting.

The voice in her head still warned Tara against involvement, against feeling anything for this tiny, fragile, hard-as-steel woman other than respect... but after Willow had jumped when the evil spirit possessed Nicole Kidman and Tara had touched her thumb in the only gesture of comfort she could manage, Tara had come to the conclusion that no matter how intelligent that voice might be, there was no way she could obey it. Now, as the credits rolled, neither woman seemed quite willing to move.

“I love that movie,” Willow said after a moment. “My 9th grade math teacher knew Sandra Bullock when she was young; we watched Practical Magic on the last day of school. It was the first movie I ever saw that actually had good realistic witches.” Tara laughed.

“Realistic?” Willow shifted on the couch, drawing her legs up beneath her. The action pulled her hand away. Tara almost reached for it, but then folded her arms instead. The redhead smiled a little.

“Well. As realistic as Hollywood gets, anyway.”

“S-so when did you start practicing?” Tara was interested, but more importantly, asking questions would lead to conversation, and conversation would distract her from how good Willow looked with her hair in her face like that.

“High school. When I was sixteen, I dedicated myself.”

“Me too,” Tara said, brushing her own hair behind her ear. “It was hard, though. I d-didn't know any other Wiccans.”

“I didn't either,” Willow replied, shaking her head. “My parents were Jewish, and they didn't think too well of it.” She let out a short, soft laugh. “They had no idea what to do with me when I told them I was Wiccan, and even less of an idea when I told them I was gay.” Tara's heart pounded. There it was.

Of course, she'd hoped. She'd even suspected. She'd been almost sure, actually, especially after that little exchange about Jodie Foster. But to hear it out loud-

“M-my family,” she began, and then stopped. Fucking dyke. Breathed in, breathed out. “They didn't want a lesbian in the fold,” Tara said finally. An understatement. There was a long pause, a sort of commiserating silence. Then, Willow reached out, very carefully. Tara's eyes slid over the redhead's hand, the scars, and then locked on Willow's own face. She didn't dare move. Slowly, in a silence that was suddenly far more tense than seconds before, Willow touched Tara's cheek.

“I'm sorry.”

**********

Buffy had her cell phone out and against her ear as soon as she'd flung her duffel bag in the cab. She called out Willow's address to the driver, and then turned her attention to the ringing line.

“Hello?”

“Xander, Buffy. I just got in. I need the number of the agent in charge, here.”

“Uh, right. Henderson's the name. Katie, Karen, something like that.”

“Just give me the number,” Buffy said, impatient. Then, she felt guilty for it, but Xander was already reeling off digits. “Thanks, Xand. I'll get back to you.”

“Sure-” She'd already hung up.

“Hello, Special Agent Henderson? Detective Buffy Summers, here. I was-”

“The one who found Dr. Rosenberg the first time, right.” Buffy's eyes narrowed, full-on cop mode.

“That implies there will be a second,” she muttered. “All right. Willow Rosenberg is my friend, and as you know, I have a bit of a personal connection to this case, even if she wasn't. I'd like to help.”

“I appreciate that, and understand it,” Henderson said, “but we've got the situation under control. Cole Raimey isn't getting anywhere near Dr. Rosenberg; you have my word.” Buffy didn't bother to keep trying; it had been worth the question, but there were more options than doing what the FBI said. After getting off the phone with Agent Henderson, she made one last call.

“Andrew? It's me. I need a favor. Cole Raimey worked for the Maclays, right? I need everything you've got on that family today, and I need it fast.” As the cab neared Willow's Victorian monstrosity, Buffy heard the clicking of a keyboard across the line. Five minutes. Ten.

“Alright, got it. Maclay family, now headed by Donald Maclay, no recorded contact with Raimey in... almost four years. But, hired a man named Al Small for a while, and he matches the description of a guy who visited Raimey in prison a few weeks before his escape.”

“Odds of them being behind this?”

“I'd say pretty high. Although actually, the timing seems a little off; according to... you know this is off the record, right?”

“Of course,” Buffy said, making one of the few exceptions to her moral code. “Go on.”

“Right. According to my buddy Warren, here, the Maclays are kind of busy with, uh, family troubles right now.”

“Meaning?”

“Apparently Donald's sister ran off a month ago. I hear he's pretty... put out, shall we say?”

“A sister? I didn't know there was a sister.”

“Sure,” Andrew said, voice low. “Adelle Tara Maclay. Pretty blond. They kept her kind of hush-hush; something about an embarrassing-”

“Wait,” Buffy interrupted, a cold tingle waking at the base of her spine. “What was that name?”

“Adelle.” Her throat was very dry, but she swallowed, and asked again.

“The whole name, Andrew.”

“Adelle Tara. Weird middle name; sounds-”

“Thanks,” she broke in, and hung up. Waves of shock, disbelief and finally horror shook her to the core. “Shit,” Buffy said at last.

***********

Willow meant to pull her hand back at once, just a brief touch. An offer of comfort, that was all.

But Tara caught her fingers at the last moment, the blue eyes far darker than they had been. Willow's heart raced, her breath caught in her throat. She was filled with a seething mixture of terror, exhilaration... and desire. I am in control, she thought desperately, and I am strong. Goddess, I am strong. But she couldn't move. Tara's hand was warm around hers, almost hot, and Willow realized that in that moment, the blond could grow fangs and attack her and she wouldn't even scream.

“I think-” Before she could get out any more, Tara leaned forward, tilted Willow's chin up with her free hand, and kissed her.

The world stopped spinning, but Willow kept going. Dizzy, she found her hands around the blond's neck, her universe shrinking to include nothing but the softness of Tara's hair and the warm, sweet pressure of her lips against Willow's. Willow heard a moan, realized it was Tara's, and let herself fall back against the arm of the couch, pulling Tara with her. The blond's weight against Willow's torso was sublime, and her hand was moving towards the neckline of Willow's shirt, and-

The front door slammed open, and a voice that was almost unrecognizable through the cold fury that twisted it shattered the moment.

“Get your goddamn hands off her,” Buffy snarled. Tara jerked away, and Willow propped herself up to stare at her friend.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, still hazy from the kiss. Buffy had her gun out, and her eyes were like green fire. She didn't look away from Tara.

“Willow, get away from her,” she said brusquely.

“What? Why?” The dizziness was swiftly being replaced by confusion, and more than a little anger. But Buffy's next words hit Willow like a sharpened stake in the gut.

“Because that's Donnie Maclay's baby sister, and her father sent Cole Raimey after you in the first place.”

[jay/wt4evr]

Oh my gosh best timing ever. And what a effed up situation. You got me with my breath on hold til the next update

[Zooeys_Bridge]

Whoa. WHOA. fuckin' whoa.

What a comeback WH! Wicked and fierce, if I do say so. Welcome back, we've missed you, and this story, very much these past few months.

I like how you picked things up a bit here. I was wondering if the (no pun intended) pussyfooting between Willow and Tara in the house would last eons and drag on, but you really brought the action to a good place in the story. I'm very it wasn't like awkward tension-loveydovey-murderer psychopath attack. Buffy's involvement is a perfect way to break up the different worlds in the story and bring them together in a whole way.

Any chance of less time between updates this time? Pretty please?

[Zampsa1975]

Yay for great update-y goodness.... I hope Buffy's announcement doesn't cause a harmful rift between Tara and Willow... I really hope that Tara is able to explain her reasons to be there to Buffy and most importantly to Willow...

[writerfreak]

Okay, I know I'd been away from reading stories for a while, but I come back and Damn! I read all of that and THEN get left on a cliff....grr. It's really great writing, and you can guarantee I haven't forgotten this story, I just work too damn much to read a lot....I'll be checking back....

writerfreak

[WTJunkie]

This is awesome! After a lot of backstory and character development (which have been wonderful of course) this update really put the plot in high gear. Just please please please please don't make us wait two months to resolve this cliff-hanger!
Can't wait to read more.
WTJ

[ophelia11]

Wow! What an update. I was on the edge of my seat as I read. Love that Buffy is being protective, but hopefully she'll slow down enough for an explanation. Willow's certainly had reason for trust issues, but I hope that the fragile one she's built with Tara.

Can't wait to see what happens next.

[NoKittyNo]

Oh..my..god. I don't know how I missed this story. I must've been floating in space unknowinlgy.

I love how it's detailed yet also not overly written to where the plot is 18 pages away or something. Upon reading it from the beggining I was instantly captured and driven in.

The emotions, backround, present and everything are just well-set and I like how it's all fits together into the chapters.

I am anxious for an update (as I am on soo many stories, ..I've been told to visit the "Completed fics archive"..as i'm almost heart-broken every single time I reach the "non-updated" part. lol)

Keep writing, you're doing a great job, (so much so it's past 2 am and I couldn't go to bed without finishing all 5 pages, lol)

[Paint the Sky]

That is one hell of a cliff you've left us hanging from.

I don't know wether to be mad or relieved at Buffy's arrival. One one hand, thank god she has got to Willow's before Raimey, but, on the other, a hot little scene with Willow and Tara interupted just as it was getting going.

Jesus - Willow is going to freak at Buffy's news!

I'm with everyone else in hoping the next update isn't too far away. I'm not sure I can take the tension - lol.

[sadie]

[Miss Elly]

Ahhhhh! What'd you stop there for?!


Cliffhanger aside, what a great update! Finally, some Willow and Tara .

Ugh, if only Buffy hadn't gone and ruined it.

Looking forward to an update soon!

[spells42]

Sigh... great update. Enjoyed the nastiness of Raimey, the fragile stability of Willow and Tara's haven, and the desperate determination to protect that is driving Buffy. Cole's confidence is building the suspense, and now Buffy's well-meaning action might result in Tara being forced out of the house and into danger... not to mention the additional concern that Buffy's revelation might ruin the budding romance.

I can hardly wait to read what happens next. thank you.
Anne

[WiccanHandprintz]

AN: I know you're all not looking forward to the angst that this chapter is inevitably bringing, but I promise you a happy ending. Stick with me.

Chapter 15

In less than a millisecond, Willow's heart went from breakneck speed to a dead stop. Then, the blood was pounding hard enough to echo in her ears, and she lurched backwards to the point of nearly falling over the couch arm. Awkwardly swinging her legs to the floor and pinioning herself around, Willow stumbled around the edge of the sofa until the thick plush arm was between her and Tara. The blond sat, ramrod straight, still as an oil painting.

Buffy made as if to move closer, but Willow flung an arm out, and she paused. A tiger barely leashed, Buffy kept her eyes the same place her friend did: on Tara Maclay.

“Tell me that's not true,” Willow said, her voice calm. Frighteningly calm. The blond woman's eyes, those big, beautiful blue eyes, had gone guarded and unfamiliar. Tara's expression was strange, as if all her features had been erased and replaced with not-quite-right replicas.

She said nothing.

“Willow,” Buffy said tightly, “I need you to go outside and get Officer March. Then call Henderson. I'll watch her.” At that, Tara stood up so sharply that even Buffy flinched. There was something in the blond's normally soft face now that Willow had never seen before, and it scared her: cold determination...and fear.

“No,” she said quietly, simply. Willow licked her lips, nerves racing through her. Buffy's brows lowered.

“Sit down and put your hands above your head, Miss Maclay.” Tara ignored her, turning to face Willow. The terrifying look on her face shifted, changed, and now there was just the fear, and something else, as well: guilt.

“Please,” the blond whispered. “D-d-don't do this. I c-can't be found.” She spoke as if Buffy wasn't even in the room.

“You knew,” Willow found herself saying. She had so many other things to say, like, “Get out of my house,” and “Buffy, help.” But she couldn't make her mouth form those words. Instead, she went on. “You knew all along that Raimey wanted me. You knew who let him out. You knew who he- you are who he was working for,” she finished in a shaking, horrified whisper. Tara stepped towards her, and Willow jerked backwards. Tara froze. Then, quickly, quietly, her stutter back in full force, she began to talk.

“I d-d-didn't know, I swear. I had n-nothing to do with him, n-never. He worked for m-my father; he g-g-gave me the scar on my neck. If they f-find out I'm here, they'll k-kill me, I know it. Willow, please, I n-never meant for it to happen like this. I never-”

“You never meant for it to happen before you kissed me, or after?” Willow asked, surprised by the venom in her own voice. Tara blinked, and suddenly Willow could have sworn there were tears in her eyes. Willow felt a hollow, angry ache deep in her belly, and she knew she needed to face this. Buffy cleared her throat.

“Hey, whoa, let's just stay on track here. Willow, please, would you just-”

“Buffy,” Willow interrupted, “can you...” She took a deep breath. I can't believe I'm doing this. “Can you just go outside for a second?” Buffy stared at her. Tara's face was carefully blank.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Buffy, please, just go in the hallway for just a minute. Please, I'll be okay, I'll scream if she moves.” Slowly, not lowering the gun or taking her eyes from the blond by the couch, Buffy backed out of the room. Hesitating in the doorway, she called,

“If she even breathes wrong...” And she was gone.

Willow inhaled, shuddering. The fury, the twist of poisonous rage, was gone. Thankfully. Now, there was... nothing. She felt scooped out, emptied.

“How long were you going to wait, Tara? Before you told me? Or were you ever going to tell me?” Tara lifted a hand as if to reach out, and Willow's mouth tightened. “Don't.” The hand fell back to her side.

“I was g-going-” Tara stopped. Looked down, then back up. “I don't know,” she finished after a moment, her voice much softer. Almost helpless. “It w-was an accident. Working here. For you. I d-didn't know about your connection to Raimey until that c-cop came. And then...” She trailed off, but Willow stayed silent. Finally, Tara went on. “I thought I c-could... I thought if I stayed, I c-could face him d-d-down and...”

“And what? Kill him?” Willow said it harshly, a cruel joke, but Tara didn't drop her eyes. Willow shook her head, yet another wave of shock rippling across her ribs. “Oh, my Goddess.”

“I wanted him dead,” Tara said, her stutter fading in the wake of the cold hate that infused those words. Her eyes went momentarily distant, and then snapped back to focus. Willow crossed her arms protectively.

“So you were using me as bait,” she said at last, slicing to her final conclusion. “You were going to wait until Raimey came after me, and then you were going to...” She didn't say it. “And everything else? That was... how could you have...”

“I t-told you,” Tara broke in, and now she did step forward. “I didn't w-want it to happen like that.”

“So you didn't want to kiss me?” Willow couldn't stop herself.

“No, I- I'm sorry,” Tara said, taking another step. “I wanted to tell you.” Willow didn't speak, and when Tara took another step and stopped less than a foot away from her, she didn't move. But when Tara reached to touch Willow's hand, the redhead lifted her chin and, very deliberately, took one step backwards.

“I think you're telling the truth,” she began, “about not working for... for your family. Which, I take it, isn't as dead as you said it was.” Before Tara could do more than open her mouth, Willow went on. “But you lied to me. You used me.” The pain was in her voice now, and she couldn't stop it, and she felt her breathing speed up, and oh goddess not now. Willow closed her eyes, taking a deep, cleansing breath. Her heart rate slowed. She opened her eyes and kept talking. The old Willow, the one that had just recently re-awoken, was gaining control, and her brain was working fast. “But you're a wild card, and Raimey won't know you're here. He won't expect that.” Tara was frowning, but Willow ignored it. “So you're going to stay, and Buffy and I are going to keep a very close watch on you, and when he- when he gets here, we'll see who uses whom.”

*********

“You c-can't be serious,” Tara said quietly. She dashed a tear away from one eye, and forced the transformation: all woman, to all business. “Your friend will n-never let me stay.”

“She'll do it,” Willow replied, swallowing. “She'll do it. Buffy,” she called, and instantly the blond cop was in the room.

“You done?”

“Buffy, Tara's going to stay here,” Willow said, and her voice was back to the cool, collected Stepford sound that she'd had when Tara'd first met her. “She's going to be our last ace.”

“Will,” Buffy said, the sympathy in her voice hard to hear, “you can't trust her.” And then, Tara realized that her grudging self-admission of affection after the movie had been far, far understated as Willow looked from Buffy to Tara herself.

“I know,” Willow said, and there was nothing but honest, crushed acceptance in her voice.

And that just about broke Tara's heart.

[Zooeys_Bridge]

diiibs

[Zampsa1975]

Yay for great update-y goodness... You can trust Buffy to trying to derail Willow's and Tara's relationship... I really really hope that Tara is very soon able to earn Willow's trust again...

[jay/wt4evr]

Eugh call it a 'grr argh' situation. Please happy ending!!!

[spells42]

oh my. how very painful.

please put us all out of our misery

Anne

[Paint the Sky]

That was indeed angsty, but Willow's reaction is more than understandable - she feels hurt, used, even betrayed, but even with all these strong emotions dominating the chapter, Tara's vulnerability is still very evident.

This fic just gets better and better.

[writerfreak]

You make me want to cry with that one....I don't even have words really, except that it was beautifully written and I need to go find tissues now....

writerfreak

[WiccanHandprintz]

Chapter 16

Tara felt like crying.

Her eyes, though, as she lay on her back and stared at the ceiling of the guest room she'd been using for the past few days, were dry.

She could hear the muted sounds of Buffy and Willow down the hall, talking quietly. Their voices were too low for her to make out words, but she knew what they were discussing. Or, rather, who.

Buffy, Tara took it, had spoken to the agent in charge of guarding Willow Rosenberg and gotten permission to stay in the house as a sort of final layer of protection, on the grounds that she was there for Willow's comfort as much as for her safety. She would sleep on the sofa that Tara herself had unearthed downstairs, while Willow would stay in the master bedroom and Tara, save for when she had to use the restroom or needed food, was expected to stay in her guest room. At night, Buffy had stated flatly, the door to Tara's room would be locked. An old house, the guest rooms in Willow's near-mansion were small enough that they might once have been considered servant's quarters. They locked from the outside.

Now, Tara lay with her arms outstretched, fingers reaching as far to the east and the west of her as they could. Her toes pointed, angling up, her legs straight out from her spine. She imagined the crucifixes her grandfather had worn, the expensive silver cross weighted with the tormented body of Christ. He'd put one around her neck once, when she was very young, and it had been heavy enough for the chain to leave a red mark on her neck. This memory made her smile bitterly, and the back of her neck tingled where the white scar traced that same place. The scar, also old, was from her sixteenth birthday. The day Cole Raimey, her father's hit man, touched her, and when she fought back, nearly garroted her with the wire he kept in his left sleeve. No one ever knew what had happened that day; injuries were taken for granted in that family, especially hers.

Scarred, Tara closed her eyes and brought her mind back to the day her grandfather had put the silver crucifix around her neck. She saw the cross. Saw the body. Remembered her childish horror, her utter confusion as to why anyone would look at such an awful thing with joy and praise. She hadn't understood the symbolism behind the image, but even when she did, she'd never been able to look at a crucifix since without seeing her father's father's cold, old eyes.

Now, in the position of the crucified, Tara wondered what she would sacrifice when all this was over.

She'd run from the family that hated her, but the darkness had followed in her memories. She'd tried to hide in the normal world, but had stepped into the very first place her past would look for her. She'd made every attempt to close herself off, to focus on her freedom at whatever cost, but her stubborn, reckless heart had locked onto the one person this entire charade couldn't help but betray. And now she was trapped here, trapped in every possible way, and waiting for a killer who wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in her head right before starting on the woman she-

Loved?

Tara wasn't sure.

She was unused to the feeling.

But what she was sure of was this: even- no, especially- after hearing the wounded distrust in the redhead's voice, Tara would step in front of Raimey's gun herself before she let the bastard touch Willow.

And, buried within that certainty was another thought: one that, until Willow had said it aloud, had lived in Tara's subconscious and waited. An' it harm none, do as ye will. Rede aside, Tara knew now, if Raimey gave her even the slightest chance... she would kill him.

*******

“Eggs. Bread. Cheese. Lemons. Carrots. Anchov- ew,” Xander broke off, mid-word. He looked at the crumpled grocery list in his hand, mouth curling down. “Anya, you don't like anchovies. I don't like anchovies. Why are we buying anchovies?”

“Because I read somewhere that they improve certain activities that I'm not supposed to talk about in public-”

“Ok,” Xander interrupted, steering his wife away from an elderly couple who were watching the young woman with more than a little interest. Anya, never one to be led, twisted her arm away and flipped her hair over one shoulder. This didn't really do much, since she'd gotten it cut into a low bob a week before, a fact that she kept forgetting. Still, it flung a few currently-brown strands into Xander's mouth, and he quirked his lips at her. “Whatever, An. Just, don't forget, we also have to get tea.”

“Tea? Well, fine, as long as it's caffeinated,” she said. “I don't do decaffeinated.”

“I know,” he assured her, grabbing a box of noodles as they passed and tossing it into the basket at his waist.

“So how's Willow?” Anya's voice, despite the complete non sequitur, had gone as soft as it was possible for it to go. Her frank brown eyes, meeting Xander's over a display of early pumpkins, spared nothing. “The tea made me think of it,” she added after a second.

“She's okay for now,” Xander said slowly. “It's... complicated. But Buffy's there, as of this afternoon.”

“And the cops are watching the house?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” she said, turning to pick up a can of spaghetti sauce, “that's good. You might want to call them for ours, as well, if that man keeps following us.” Xander took the can before her words sunk in. He almost dropped the sauce, but Anya's quick fingers snagged it just in time. She set the sauce in the basket, and cocked her head at him. Xander's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper as he bent to her.

“We're being followed?!” Anya lowered her voice as well, for once taking the cue.

“Of course we are. You didn't notice?”

“No,” Xander hissed. “Not all of us are former thieves with ninja reflexes and x-ray vision.” She patted his hand.

“I know, dear. It's not your fault.”

“Who is it? What does he look like? Where?”

“He's not in here anymore,” Anya said easily, “so we don't actually need to whisper like this. He followed us from the hardware store; very nicely done, too. I actually wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't been looking at those gorgeous flowerpots. I could see him through the hole in the bottom when I picked one up; you know, where the water drains out. He was across the aisle. My spidey sense went wacky, and sure enough, he stayed parallel the whole time and then followed us here, too. He left a few minutes ago.”

Xander blinked at her, and took a deep breath.

“Ok. What did he look like?”

“Middle aged, but fit. Dark eyes. Creepy.”

“We need to call the cops,” he told her, handing her the basket to rummage for his cell phone. Anya sighed.

“Didn't I just say that five minutes ago?”

He was already talking to Henderson.

**********

Raimey pulled over off a side road he'd found, popping the trunk of his stolen car. He switched the plates quickly, quietly and efficiently, breathing through his nose. Raimey was in the habit of making as little noise as possible. Still, he was almost positive he hadn't been quite stealthy enough; something about the way the woman with Alexander Harris had looked at him made him uneasy. She'd only glanced at him once, and very briefly, but though her eyes hadn't lingered on him after lowering the flowerpot, Raimey had gotten a very distinct warning bell in his shark's mind. He didn't know who she was; that would have to be determined. Harris's girlfriend? His wife? Probably the latter, Raimey decided; Harris wore a ring, and they bickered like old marrieds.

Still, 'Harris's wife' was not enough. If there was even the slightest chance she knew him, she'd need to be taken out. Raimey frowned. This was getting unduly complicated. The cop was there, the one from before. The one who'd shot him. He'd seen her arrive, seen her talk with the officer on duty, seen her angry and gesticulating and finally admitted into the house. And now Harris, who might have been an in, had a wife who was either far smarter than her husband, or who just set Raimey's teeth on edge for some other, unknown reason. Since Raimey detested the unexplained and the random, he locked the pretty brunette's face into his mind and made a mental note to find out exactly who she was... and, possibly more importantly, who she'd been.

Complicated, complicated. The web was growing. Still, Raimey thought as he got back into the nondescript Suburu, nothing too bad had happened yet. The plan was still a go.