Am I updating in response to specific harrassment or because I was planning to anyway? I'll never tell. Mwahahaha.
Title: Terra Firma Chapter 12: Clouds of Glory.
Author: Tulipp. Email:
tulipp30@yahoo.comFeedback: Yes, please. Distribution: Please let me know.
Spoilers: Everything.
Rating: PG-13 in this part.
Pairing: W/T.
Summary: The past clouds the present and perhaps the future…. (anyone notice how my summaries are getting less and less…summative?)
Disclaimer: All characters and various plot events that set up this story were created by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc, but they belong to the fans. No money changing hands here.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to Ruth, who saw inside important sentences and noticed everything. And to J, of course.
Terra Firma
Chapter 12: Clouds of Glory
It struck me every day
The lightning was as new
As if the cloud that instant slit
And let the fire through.
--Emily Dickinson, “Time and Eternity”
The laugh in Buffy’s throat faded as soon as she stepped over the threshold to the Magic Box.
She and Dawn hadn’t been laughing about anything in particular. Buffy had wanted to put Dawn at ease. Xander’s outburst was fresh in her mind, and it had torn at her insides to see Willow’s face fold in on itself with shame when he had left the Magic Box. Buffy didn’t know herself if Willow should cast again, at least not so soon, but she thought she should trust Tara on this, and she knew she could trust Giles.
And, of course, underneath the tensions that had resurfaced in the last few hours, Buffy was still worried about the reason for Tara’s return.
Glory.
But circling all of that, pinching down that worry…Tara had come back to life, and Willow and Dawn had come back to Sunnydale. There might still be questions to answer, but it was enough to make her smile, to make her grab Dawn’s hand and twirl her around in the middle of the street.
But there was nothing to laugh at in the Magic Box, where a cloud of tension hung thick in the room.
“We forgot the key,” Dawn said, and then she stiffened and sucked in her breath, and Buffy took in the scene in front of her. Giles stood, glasses in one hand, his face hard as he looked at the man against the wall. A man whose leg twisted underneath him, whose green tail poked up behind, who sat as if paralyzed against the bookcase. Buffy recognized him immediately. He had tried to kill Dawn. Her lips thinned.
And then there were Willow and Tara, who stood by the research table, facing the man. Their hands were clasped tightly, knuckles white and arms rigid. They were both flushed and panting, and Willow’s face, as the turned toward the door, had gone still in an expression that made Buffy uneasy. Was that guilt on Willow’s face? Or was it…was it magick?
Buffy had the sense that they had all been here before, that they were playing out a drama that had started long ago. Maybe the scenery had changed, maybe their lines had been rewritten, but it was the same. Seeing him, the man whom she had sent spiraling off the tower with a single shove, brought it all back.
Glory.
It had all gone wrong when she came into their lives. Dark magicks. Destruction. Death. They had all wanted to do the right thing. To fight evil and save the world. To protect Dawn. But they had lost their way, all of them, and the choices since then had only gotten harder, the punishments more brutal.
Buffy remembered talking to Giles after Glory had taken Dawn. Faced with killing her sister or ending everything, Buffy had said that she didn’t know how to live in the world if these were the choices, if everything were stripped away. The words lived on her memory like a scar. Itching occasionally and there to stay.
But she had died, and she had come back, and she had stripped so much more away herself. She had peeled back the protective layer around her friendship with Willow. She had watched her friend, exposed and alone and gasping for breath, and she hadn’t helped. She hadn’t cared.
But she cared now.
She could see at a glance that the man by the bookcase wasn’t moving, so she dropped her arms to her sides and strode toward Willow and Tara. That look on Willow’s face as she watched Buffy coming….
Tara glanced quickly from Willow’s face to her own and back again. One palm gripped Willow’s tightly, but she held out the other, beseeching.
“I made her do it, Buffy,” she said. “It wasn’t her fault….”
Tara’s words stopped Buffy cold.
She saw it all in that moment. That look on Willow’s face, the quick apology of Tara’s words—they were still wary of her, still afraid of her anger, or maybe of her coldness, of that righteousness she had pulled on like a wool sweater every morning after she’d come back. It was the only warmth she’d been able to find, that thread of morality that had allowed her to judge her friends, to judge Willow. To judge herself.
This knowledge settled into Buffy’s stomach. Was that, in the end, the legacy that Glory had left them? That she and her friends would become distanced and alienated? That they would drift separate and alone? That they would see each one another hurting and do nothing to ease the pain? That they would hurt and fear one another?
Only months before, she and a grief-frozen and bitter Willow had faced off in this very place. They had said cruel things, both of them. But Willow’s words had been cruel because she had spoken the truth, while Buffy’s had been cruel because she had not, because even at what might have been the end of everything—the end of friendship and life and love and the world—Buffy had held back.
Could she have stopped it? If she had been able to say one word of comfort when she’d found out Tara had died, if she’d been able to reach for Willow and hold her instead of staring at her in dumb shock, to show her own grief instead of preaching at her…could she have stopped it all?
That had been Buffy’s nightmare all summer, the thought she had awakened to every night for three months. That had been her cold sweat of regret: if she had acted differently, if she had just said the right words to Willow, if she had just…Christ, if she had just touched her….
No. She wasn’t going to make that mistake again. What had been stripped away was hers to paint back.
Now, Buffy looked closely at Willow, whose usually pale face was flushed with fear and the tinge of magick. This was one of those moments, Buffy thought, one of those moments when you make a choice, and it matters, and you undo your mistakes, and it lasts. She could ask a question. She could ask what Willow had done, or what had happened, or if Willow had cast a spell, or if Willow had been careful, or why the man who had tried to kill Dawn on the tower was twisted against the bookcase.
But she knew the right question, the only question. There was no dilemma, no choice to make. She slipped her hand around the rigid line of Willow’s neck and kissed her friend softly on the forehead, let her lips cool her friend’s hot skin.
“Will, are you all right?” she asked, and she felt the stiffness go out of Willow’s neck, and she saw the wariness in Willow’s eyes give way to something else, a trust that shone green and parted her lips slightly. It was a look Buffy had not seen in a very long time. But she remembered what it looked like, and she knew how to recognize it. Before the relief of the last day, before the endless wintry mourning of summer, before the rage. Even before the guarded loneliness and careful, cautious hope of the months before.
It was love, pure and simple, and it beaded on Willow’s lashes and spilled onto her cheeks.
“Thank you, Buffy,” Willow whispered, leaning in so that her forehead touched Buffy’s. They stood that way for a moment. Buffy felt the threat of tears feather the back of her own throat, but she swallowed against it. How had she missed it before, that all Willow had ever needed was forgiveness? Forgiveness for using the dark magicks. For starting with magick in the first place. For being herself. How had she missed it?
When Buffy lifted her head, she saw Tara smiling gratefully at her in the gentle and knowing way that only Tara smiled. Tara saw things that others didn’t, Buffy knew. She saw things that happened beneath the surface of conversations, currents that other people missed. She seemed to understand, now, and she smiled.
“You okay, Tara?” Buffy asked, but she already knew the answer. Tara had Willow, and Willow was safe. And so Tara was okay.
Buffy nodded and shook herself. Time to figure out what had happened. And decide what was going to happen.
****
Dawn felt paralyzed. He had cut her, that man, had sliced into the flesh of her stomach. He had drawn her blood and watched it drop onto the cold metal grating of the tower.
But, from behind her vision, behind her logic and her thinking, she realized that she was unafraid. This man couldn’t hurt her. This man could help. He knew things. She felt this as a whispered voice, that there were things to learn here. Important things.
Buffy had turned from Willow to look at the man. She had rested her hands on her hips, tilted her head slightly. Her face was still and composed and hard with intent.
“What do you want?” she said evenly.
But the man was looking only at Dawn, and Dawn felt drawn to him. She felt the pull of knowledge. She took a step toward him.
“You,” she said. She wasn’t afraid. He was here to tell her something important.
“Ah,” he said. “The key.” His eyes twinkled blackly at her. “Now this should be interesting.”
“Um, repeat much?” Buffy rolled her eyes. “You said that last time. New confrontation, new one-liners?”
“I’m human now,” Dawn said slowly, but the words didn’t feel exactly right. They jarred with that whispered voice that was humming something else at her, something approaching from the distance of her mind. What was it? Still, she shook it away, crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not the key anymore.”
Doc laughed. “Ah, is that the pretty bedtime story they told you?” he crooned, glancing at where Giles stood, next to Buffy. “Rupert, I’m ashamed of you. I taught you better than that.”
“I think maybe you’ve said enough,” Giles said quietly. He slid his glasses back on.
“Oh, I’m just getting started,” Doc continued, his eyes narrowing. “Did you tell this little girl anything, Rupert? Did you tell her about your research at Council Headquarters last spring? About the legacy of the key?”
Giles's head snapped up, his face registering surprise. Then he took a step forward. “How…how do you know about that?” he asked, and Dawn heard an iron note in his voice, but when she looked at him, she thought he looked ashamed. He dug both hands deep into the pockets of his trousers, but Dawn could still see the hard shapes of his fists.
Buffy looked at him sharply. “Giles?” she asked, her voice low. He didn’t look at her.
“Did you really think you could just be a girl now, a teenager?” Doc asked Dawn. His body was held stiff and rigid, but his eyes flashed and sparked at Dawn. “Did you really think that you could just let it all go for slumber parties and make-overs?”
Dawn took another step.
“Ask Rupert to tell you about the three locks,” Doc said, a cold smile lifting the corners of his thin lips. “The three triggers that release your power. The key’s power.” His eyes shone at her, and Dawn felt compelled. She moved toward him.
“Dawn, stay back.” She heard Buffy’s warning, but she paid no attention. She couldn’t take her eyes away from that pointy chin, from the knife angles of those cheekbones.
“Three locks,” she said. Her head was buzzing. “Tell me.”
“Well, if Rupert won’t tell you,” Doc said with relish, “I guess I’ll have to. Now, it’s only a rough translation from the ancient Tnatum dimension text, so you’ll have to forgive the doggerel.” He cleared his throat and recited. “In killing with no weapon, in seeing a wish undone, in forgiving its greatest threat, the key is met.”
Buffy raised her eyebrows. “So Dr. Seuss writes prophecies now?” she asked flatly.
“You can believe what you like,” Doc said to her, and his eyes flashed black, but he turned back to Dawn, and eyes smoothed out again. Dawn couldn’t stop looking at him, moving toward him.
“You’ve had the visions already, haven’t you?” Doc’s voice had dropped, but Dawn heard him clearly in the silent room. “The headaches? It’s already begun.”
She stared at him, uncomprehending, and then she took another step forward, raising her hand at him. Then she stopped, glancing at her arm, letting it fall shakily back to her side. Why had she done that? What had she been going to do?
“Is it Glory?” Dawn heard her voice shake at the name.
He laughed, and for the first time, Dawn saw something gentle in those black, black eyes. “Glory can’t touch you anymore,” he said. “She had her chance, and she blew it. She has much left to do in this reality, but she can’t touch the key.”
“What, then?” Dawn watched her feet move forward, saw that she put one in front of the other until she was only inches from him. She could feel the shimmer of binding around him. Her voice had dropped to a whisper. It was the two of them. Him and herself.
In the moment before she felt the body behind her and the hand on her arm, the moment before Giles’ fingers closed around her elbow and pulled her backward, Doc spoke, and his voice was so quiet that Dawn later thought maybe she had only read his lips. Or maybe she had only imagined it.
“You’re a thief,” he said. “You hijacked my resurrection.”
****
Willow felt herself weakening, growing tired, and when she glanced at Tara, she saw fatigue in her eyes, as well. They could only last for so long before their fingers loosened. She wanted to say this, to tell Buffy, but she couldn’t make her mouth work. She swallowed.
“Buffy,” she heard Tara say, the word hoarse and slow in Tara’s mouth, and Willow saw the blur of Buffy’s head turning to study them.
“Let him go,” Buffy said, and Willow instantly released Tara’s hand. Cool air hit her palm where the hot grip had been, and she flexed her fingers, feeling them crack with release. She took a dizzy, dazed step backward, then another, finding the wall with her back and sliding down it until she reached the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest. Tara had slumped into the nearest chair and leaned on the table, her head propped up with one hand. Her face mirrored the exhaustion Willow felt.
Willow closed her eyes, letting her head tip back to rest against the wall and listening to the others. Her mind felt foggy and dim, a nimbus of confusion settling in. She was tired. So tired.
“I am so going to kick your ass,” she heard Buffy say, and there was shuffling and a shout and a spark, but when she opened her heavy eyelids again, the man was simply gone, and Giles stood, one hand still wrapped around Dawn’s elbow, staring at the empty space where he had been.
Willow tried to keep her eyes open, to watch as Buffy walked around the shop, making sure that the man was gone, as Buffy returned to embrace Dawn, hugging her and holding the back of her head. She heard talking, and she tried to listen, but she couldn’t really focus on the words.
“I…I don’t think we need to worry about him coming back,” Giles said through the fog. “Not yet. He’ll be looking for Glory. He’s always been rather single-minded, one task at a time.”
Willow wondered if she’d fallen asleep for a minute. Surely she had missed something, a big fight or the revelation of secrets. The confrontation. Had she drifted off? They had been talking about Glory, and then Buffy had told her to let go, and then….and then what?
Glory.
That woke her up.
Glory had stayed in her mind, some part of her anyway, ever since the night she’d cast the reversal spell. Glory had been there when she’d telepathed to Spike and, later, to all the Scoobies. Glory had been there when she’d sacrificed that deer. Glory had been there when she’d cast spells for party decorations, and…. Oh, God.
Willow heard the mumble of conversation, and she thought she heard her name. Then there were hands on her knees, but they weren’t Tara’s hands, and she opened her eyes. Buffy had knelt down in front of her, was looking at her. “Hey, Will,” she said softly. “You did good.”
“Buffy,” Willow’s voice sounded tiny even to her own ears. “If Glory was in us all along, in me and Tara, then it wasn’t our fault.” She frowned, shook her head. “I mean, it was; we made choices, bad choices, but maybe it was like we couldn’t see clearly, you know? Like there so many things to choose from, but the good ones were hidden behind a cloud?”
Buffy just looked at her, a tender look that Willow felt like she hadn’t seen in years. When was the last time she had really seen Buffy? Buffy had taken care of her after Tara died, had bathed her and fed her and held her for days at a time, but Willow hadn’t seen her. She hadn’t seen anything then.
“I know it was still my fault,” Willow whispered, “but maybe….”
Buffy’s fingers pressed on Willow’s knees. “You listen to me, Willow Rosenberg,” she said, her voice fierce and even. “We all make mistakes. We all pay. And you’ve paid more than your share. You don’t have to be sorry anymore. Careful, yes, but not sorry.”
It was forgiveness, and it hurt. “But Buffy,” Willow heard her own voice leak out, pleading and high. She pressed the tip of her tongue against the back of her teeth, against the sob, as her tears spilled out again.
“No,” Buffy said. “Willow, you started with the magicks to help us. And I pushed you to use the dark magicks to stop Glory; we all did. You had to do it all alone.” Buffy pushed a lock of Willow’s hair back, cupped Willow’s cheek with the palm of her hand.
“So maybe you went too far, but who was helping you? You got into the dark magicks for us, and we repaid you by making you deal with it alone.” Buffy’s voice splintered on the last word, and she took a long shuddering breath. “And I’m sorry.” Willow felt the hand on her face tremble. “Willow, I am so, so sorry.”
Willow leaned into Buffy, and she felt Buffy’s arms wrap around her like a pardon. Like absolution. But she wasn’t sure, after all, who was forgiving whom. She felt Buffy’s tears wet against her ear, and she felt Buffy’s shoulders shake, and she held on to her friend.
Finally, she heard Giles clearing his throat, and she looked up to see Tara holding Dawn’s hand but watching Willow carefully, and Giles standing protectively over them.
“Buffy, we need to talk about this,” Giles said. “There are some, some new developments you need to know about.” Buffy nodded.
“Tara, you want to trade?” Buffy squeezed Willow’s shoulder one last time and went to Dawn, and Tara moved to pull Willow to her feet. Willow shivered when Tara’s fingers closed around hers. Her heart was still full of Buffy, but Tara’s fingers enfolded her, and when she looked up, Tara’s eyes took her in.
“Okay, show’s over,” Buffy said, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “It’s late. I think we should go back to the house. Tara and Willow should get some rest, and the rest of us can talk.”
Tara started to protest, but Buffy held up a hand. “We’ll fill you in on everything in the morning,” she said. “But look at you two; you can hardly stand up.” Willow felt Tara nod, forced herself to nod.
“Giles,” Dawn murmured. She sounded calm to Willow, and her voice…it didn’t sound like Dawn’s voice, but it was very familiar. Restful. Or maybe it was just that she was so tired, so very tired.
There were still more questions than answers, still more uncertainty than knowing, but tonight, just for one night, with Buffy’s forgiveness on her skin and Tara’s magick in her veins, Willow wanted to shut the door against Glory and keys and locks and all hard things. To take Tara to bed, and close the door behind them, and sleep.
To be continued in Chapter 13, “The Opener of Doors.”
by oneinten » Thu Aug 08, 2002 7:24 pm 
you two flirting! i may not be from America and i may not know about you're seatbelt rules in different states and inbreeding (B honey you scared me with that one 
) but still you two should be ashamed .. but do continue, it was fun. anyway, Tulipp you owe me 2 updates in one for flirting shamelessly with my fiancee and B: no hockey for some time for you 
update soon!!! 
can I make it up to you? please forgive me? please....
: -->
you're in the vicinity of Tulipp and that you're going to track her down. what am i supposed to believe? 
oh, wait. that's spoilery. bah. oh well.
great entrance by Dawn and her "We forgot the key" 
don't be %20Tara%20Avatars/cast154.jpg){kind=small}
at: 8/11/02 9:00:47 pm
