by AntigoneUnbound » Wed Mar 26, 2003 4:08 pm
Hey Kittens: I have one final batch of feedback to respond to, but I wanted to get this update posted before heading off for several hours of work. I’ll respond to that last feedback when I return later tonight. Hope you enjoy this, and thanks again for reading.
Gods Served and Abandoned
Disclaimers:
If I owned these lovely women and were making any money off of them, don’t you think I’d buy a computer for my home so I wouldn’t have to haul my ass up to my office when I wanted to write?
Spoilers:
Up to season 5. I’ve played slightly with the timing of a certain Big Bad’s appearance, with some implications for Dawn’s entrance.
Rating:
R for now; if it changes, I’ll give heads-up.
Distribution:
Sure, with acknowledgement.
Feedback:
Even more sure! Bring it on!
*****
Part 21
*****
They left the bar shortly after Dawn raised the roof and brought down the house with "We Are Family." There was a collective sense that nothing could top this, and so they settled the bill and headed out to the SUV, arms flung companionably about each other with no particular regard to coupling or gender.
As they approached the car, a woman’s voice—not quite soft, not quite menacing—called out, "Hey, Tara—saw you in there, kissing your girlfriend."
Willow wheeled about, wondering just who was trying to spoil their fun this time. Maybe it’s Jo, coming back to claim her woman and drag her off to the hills.
As the woman stepped out into the lamplight of the parking lot, Willow heard Tara’s quick intake of breath.
"Cathy?" Tara asked hesitantly.
Cathy…Cathy…Who’s Cathy?
Oh—that Cathy.
The Cathy who had humiliated Tara in front of the entire school; made her life even more miserable. This wench had taken something so exquisitely personal from her shy beloved and used it to drive a wedge between her and the only real friend she had.
Guess the ass-kicking isn’t done for the day.
Looking at her closely, Willow could see a tall, impossibly thin woman (Doesn’t anybody eat in this state?) with short black hair. Her hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of her very trendy leather jacket as she came slowly toward them.
"Long time no see, Tara," Cathy offered.
"A fact which I’m handling remarkably well," Tara replied evenly, to Willow’s delight.
"OK…" The other woman nodded slowly. "What you did, inside—singing a love song to a woman and then kissing her like nobody else was even there…"
"Yes?" Tara’s voice held an edge to it which Willow had heard all too frequently in the last week.
"I hope I have the guts to do it someday." The voice was suddenly very quiet.
"What?" Tara sounded incredulous.
Of course. Of course her high school nemesis comes out to her, tonight, in Cold Springs. Saw it coming a mile away.
"I said, I hope I’m brave enough to be myself one day, no matter where I am."
"Cathy, if you’re trying to make up for lost time since I’ve skipped our class reunions, you’ve picked a really bad—"
"No," the other woman replied, holding up a conciliatory hand. "Just wanted to say I’m sorry for being such an ass, and tell you how great it is that you’re so open."
Tara shook her head as if to clear her vision, and finally replied, "Cathy Morrisey…Of all the shockers…" She looked up, a smile finally creasing her face. "Dare I ask who? If there is anyone, that is."
Cathy laughed. "Tina."
"Tina Corcoran? The class Holy Roller?"
"Retired Holy Roller. Hung up her wings right after we got roaring drunk on Prom Night, flirting all the while, and finally ditched our dates to make out in the library."
"And it all gets curiouser and curiouser…"
"Anyway, I just wanted to tell you, and apologize. You look really happy." Cathy seemed almost shy now.
"I am. Immensely so." Tara smiled at Willow, who felt her heart break out into a tiny little tap dance of joy.
"Take care," Cathy nodded, then turned and walked back into the bar.
"You too," Tara called, just before the others broke out into a frenzied babble of questions, opinions, and wild conjecture.
"All will be revealed," Tara laughed, with a dazed shake of her head. "Let’s just get to the hotel."
*****
O’Leary’s Motor Lodge (Free Cable and Pool!) was never full; hence the startled look on the desk clerk’s face when seven individuals tumbled in and asked for accommodations.
"Uh, how many rooms will you be needing?"
There was a moment’s uncertainty as everyone looked at each other.
"Well, we could put all the girls in one room, and Giles and Xander could room together," Dawn suggested.
"I don’t think so," Anya replied promptly, and with more than a little vehemence. "I just sang ‘I Touch Myself’ to the man I love, and if you insist on some archaic gender segregation, you’ll listen to me touch myself all night long."
"Etch-a-Sketch Moment! Etch-a-Sketch Moment!" Willow cried out, shaking her head frantically from side to side in an attempt to clear the image from her mind.
"Tara, I’m guessing you and Willow would like some time alone, right?" Buffy asked, hands on her hips.
"Actually, yeah. That would be just about beyond perfect right now," Tara nodded gratefully.
"OK, so how about this: you two in one room; Anya and Xander in another room, preferably in another wing of the hotel or maybe another hotel altogether; me and Dawn in a third room; and Giles, that leaves you bunking single, if you’re OK with that."
"I should be immensely relieved, to be honest," the Watcher replied. "I always stash some Earl Grey in my jacket. I think I’ll just sink into bed and enjoy a quiet cup."
With a decisive nod, Buffy turned back to the clerk and within a matter of minutes, the seven of them were making their way down a long hallway to their respective rooms. Pausing outside #214, Tara looked at the others, gratitude battling exhaustion in her eyes.
"You guys—what you did today; what you did tonight…I don’t know how I can ever repay you. It—it means more to me than you’ll ever know."
Giles enfolded Tara in a tweedish and very warm embrace. "My only request of you, Tara, is that one day you realize that no repayment is ever necessary for caring about you."
After that, there was a dim blur—at least to Willow’s emotional gaze—as each person came up in turn to hug Tara, offering words of either sincere comfort or gentle banter. Even Anya flung her arms around Tara, whispering, "You really do deserve the good stuff, you know."
Willow saw Dawn hanging back, hands jammed into her back pockets as she stared at the ground. She really is overwhelmed by all of this; by what she’s feeling.
"Dawnie?" Tara’s voice was soft. And then Dawn edged around Buffy and wrapped her arms fiercely around the taller girl’s waist. Through her own misty vision, Willow saw a tear slip past Dawn’s closed lashes and trickle down her cheek. She didn’t say anything, just squeezed Tara as if her life depended on it and finally stepped back away, looking down at the ground once more.
Finally, the group dispersed into their own rooms, Anya humming the chorus of her chosen serenade from earlier.
Alone at last.
*****
Willow looked at Tara for what seemed like an eternity, before stepping forward and pulling her gently into her arms.
"Oh, my sweet Baby," she murmured, wondering what she could possibly say to ease the pain and confusion of this incredible day. Pulling back softly, she stroked Tara’s soft cheek and opted for tangibility. "Is there anything you want? Anything to drink?"
To her surprise, Tara nodded slowly. "Now that you mention it, I’m parched. I think I saw vending and ice machines at the other end of the hall. Would you mind…?"
"Of course not." Willow practically jumped at the chance to do something for her beloved. She grabbed the ice bucket and pulled a handful of coins from her purse, and then kissed Tara softly. "I’ll be right back, Baby."
Heading down the hall, she glanced at the short corridor leading to the balcony on the second floor. She pulled up abruptly when she discerned Dawn’s slight figure leaning over the railing.
Three guesses what’s on her mind… She wondered if there weren’t some karmic reason for her to have been walking down the hallway and to have glanced over just when she did. She made a 90-degree turn and within a few strides was standing next to the teenager under a bright moon.
"Hey Dawnie," Willow said softly, running her hand briefly over the girl’s arm.
"Hey Willow," Dawn replied, giving her a quick smile before turning back to gaze at something far away.
"Long day, huh?" Willow offered. "I mean, who coulda guessed this morning how everything would turn out."
"Not me," Dawn muttered, "and I thought I had a pretty good imagination."
"You know," Willow continued, proceeding by intuition as much as rationality, "I don’t think Tara realizes how much good stuff she pulls from people just because of who she is. Does that make sense?"
Dawn nodded. "It’s like she doesn’t get it—how special she is. And now, seeing where she came from and what she went through, I think, well how could she have gotten it, before now? No wonder she has such a hard time knowing how great she is."
Willow answered slowly, "Well, sometimes other people see us more clearly than we see ourselves, especially when our feelings are involved."
Dawn stole a quick glance her way, before staring back out at the night. Willow continued, "And Tara…Well, she just doesn’t get how easy it is to love her." She saw Dawn shift uncomfortably. "I think she’s still surprised that I love her. She can’t imagine someone just falling for her, head over heels."
Even in the dark, she could see Dawn’s knuckles whiten as she gripped the railing. "Willow?" Her voice was tiny.
"Yeah, sweetie?"
Dawn swallowed twice, and then squared her slender shoulders. "I think I’m in love with Tara."
And in other news, scientists have determined that fire is hot.
Listening to her now, Willow couldn’t feel any resentment or possessiveness. She looked at Dawn and saw a teenager who was swamped with feelings she could hardly understand or explain. She saw a girl who worshipped someone well worth worshipping and who had absolutely no idea of how to deal with it. And she saw someone who was the Key, created to open the portals between dimensions, who had no idea how her life was about to change.
So she turned and took Dawn into her arms and said, "Who can blame you, Dawnie?"
"You’re not mad?" came the muffled query.
"No, I’m not mad. I mean, she’s Tara. I commend you on your good taste." She felt Dawn grin against her shoulder before the girl pulled back and look down at her shoes.
"Does Tara know?" She folded her arms as if anticipating abject scorn.
How do I answer that one? Tell her that everybody else knows but Tara is the one person who doesn’t really believe it? "Well, it’s like we were saying: it’s hard for Tara to imagine being such a hot commodity, so I don’t think she does."
"OK, that’s a huge relief," Dawn sighed. She turned, and leaned back against the railing. "I didn’t really figure it out until today. I just thought that Tara was—extra neat, you know? Like, she’s all gentle and magical and really smart…I just thought that I wanted to be like her. And then today, seeing how people treated her, and hearing what she went through…At first I just wanted to slug her dad—or whoever he is—and then after awhile all I wanted to do was sit and hug Tara. And the more I thought about hugging her, the more I felt all…" Here she stopped, and looked away in keen embarrassment.
"Kinda warm and squiggly inside?" Willow offered helpfully.
"Very warm, and all kinds of squiggly," Dawn confirmed decisively. "I mean, I know she’s your girlfriend, and everybody would say that I’m too young for her—even though I’m way more mature than Janice, and she’s dating an eighteen-year-old—and basically, I haven’t got a chance in hell and I really am happy for you two, and oh God, I’m starting to sound like a graduate from the Willow Rosenberg School of Elocution and Conciseness."
Willow frowned slightly. "Well, thanks—I think. You’re right, she is my girlfriend and everybody—including Tara and me—would say you’re too young, and no, you wouldn’t stand a chance anyway. But that’s not the point," she added quickly. "The point is, you have really intense feelings for someone and it’s complicated. It’s like the greatest and the worst emotions in the world all wrapped up in a Total Confusion Tortilla. It’s tough; God knows I know it’s tough. But you’re not bad for feeling that way and I still love you. It’ll ease up after a while."
Dawn looked at her skeptically. "What if it doesn’t?"
"Then you and I take it outside and mud wrestle." Seeing Dawn’s eyes widen, she hastily went on, "OK, very much not really. If it gets worse, or months go by and it’s not getting better, we’ll talk it over some more. And we can talk about it whenever you want you. But please don’t freak about it, Dawnie," she finished, realizing the breath-taking irony of
her telling someone to relax.
Dawn was quiet for a moment, and then looked up suddenly. "Willow, does this mean I’m gay?"
Willow laughed, albeit somewhat nervously. "You know, I left my Lesbian Detection Kit at home." When the younger girl simply looked at her, slight hurt stealing into her eyes, Willow sighed. "I don’t know, Dawnie. I mean, I don’t know if there’s a definite yes or no to that question, at least not now." She suddenly felt woefully inadequate. Me and my stupid ideas—come out here and talk to Dawn about her feelings. I do technology; Tara does emotion. Shit.
She saw that Dawn was still looking at her, though, and she realized that the girl needed her; needed some kind of anchor and confidant. She didn’t have to be perfect or omniscient. The realization prompted her to ask, "Do you need to know, right now? I mean, know for sure? Would the label really make a difference in how you act or how you think?"
Dawn considered this for a moment. "I don’t know…It just seems like if I am gay, I should know about it."
"Well, yeah, I’m not saying repress it and get married tomorrow because, hello, very much illegal and also yucky. I’m just saying that maybe you don’t need to take an oath—any oath—right now. Don’t push me over the rail for saying this, Dawn, but you really do have time, you know?"
Dawn sighed the universal sigh of teenage angst. "I know, I know—I have my whole life ahead of me."
Willow cringed at the unintended irony of the phrase. "Well isn’t that a heck of a lot better than saying that your life ends tomorrow? That your time’s up and you’d better have everything figured out right now because Uncle Death is coming for an extended visit?"
Dawn stared at her, slightly aghast, it seemed. "Jeez, Willow—and have a nice day to you, too. Morbid much?"
"I’m just saying that being a teenager isn’t the worst thing in the world, even if it isn’t the best. And one of the good things about it is that you don’t have to sign up for one life right now if you don’t want to."
After a moment, Dawn nodded. "OK, I get that. I’ll take my time, even though we both know patience isn’t my strong suit."
Willow grinned. "No; that would be your keen mind, or maybe your singing ability."
Dawn shrugged, but Willow could see her smiling slightly. She linked her fingers through Willow’s. "Can I ask you for a favor?" she began, tugging Willow back toward the corridor.
"Cast a spell on Anya and make her celibate? Because that would be fun but unethical."
"Don’t tell Tara."
Willow hesitated. She didn’t like the idea of keeping anything other than a birthday present a secret from her girl, especially something that involved her. On the other hand, she was on a first-name basis with embarrassment and didn’t want to make things more difficult for Dawn than they already were.
"Tell you what. I won’t bring this up. If she asks about it, though, I won’t lie, but I’ll tell her to come to you first. How does that sound?"
Dawn nodded. "I can live with that." As they reached the hallway and she turned away from Willow to head back to her room, she asked quietly, "Sure you’re not mad?"
Willow grinned, feeling warm and affectionate toward this girl who, like Tara, had such precious little idea just how much was within her. "I’m not mad, Dawn." She hugged her tightly. "Butif you look down her blouse I’ll gouge your eyes out."
Dawn nodded feebly. "No chest shots. Got it." She lowered her voice suddenly and added, "You’re the greatest, Willow. Tara’s lucky to have you." And then she darted back down the hallway to her room.
Willow glanced at her watch as she turned toward the vending room. Almost one o’clock. Even a trip to the juice machine gets dramatic on this trip.
*****
"Where’d you get the juice, Sweetie—Tulsa?" Tara’s voice was edged with fatigue. She was stretched out on the bed; two candles were lit, one on either stand beside the bed.
"Sorry, Baby—I ran into Dawn and she was pretty upset about today." Willow hoped Tara didn’t ask too many questions because she didn’t want to lie, especially since she was awful at it.
Tara sat up quickly. "Dawn’s upset? Maybe I should talk to her."
"No!" Willow realized that she had practically shouted her directive. "I mean, she was really wiped out by the end of the conversation. She was going to head to bed. Besides," she added, pouring some juice into an ice-filled cup, "you’re the one who needs the TLC right now." She carried over the drink and sat down on Tara’s side of the bed, running her fingers gently through soft tendrils of gold.
"Totally Licentious Cunnilingus?" Tara smiled, batting her eyelashes with exaggerated coyness.
"Whenever possible," Willow breathed, amazed that even after a day like this, Tara could simply banter with her about sex and Willow was primed and ready to go. I’m like the old Timex commercialsused to say—I take a licking and keep on…well, licking.
"How are you, Baby? Really?" She felt her heart squeeze suddenly as she caught full sight of the exhaustion in Tara’s eyes.
"How about you take those clothes off and get ready for bed and then come in and ask me that question?" Before Tara had even finished the question, Willow had bounced off of the bed and headed into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. A bare five minutes later, she hastened back to bed, half fearing that Tara would already be asleep and half hoping that she was, if that’s what she needed.
But Tara obviously wasn’t going gently into any dark night without Willow beside her. Willow slid in under the covers and stretched out her full length against Tara’s warm body.
"So let me ask that again—how are you?"
Tara’s eyes suddenly glistened in the dark as she pondered the question. "God, Willow—how do I even start to answer that? I feel like my whole world exploded on me in one afternoon." She drew a shuddering breath. "I mean, I thought everything had been resolved on my birthday. And then Donnie shows up and tells me Daddy has demon blood in him. So we head off to Cold Springs where Daddy tells me that he really is a demon, but I don’t have to worry because he really isn’t my father. Who, by the way, was my uncle; who, by the way, is dead. And the coup de grace: my mother wasn’t a saint." Laughter and weeping seemed to dance fitfully together in her voice.
Not for the first time that day, Willow raged against her helplessness to ease Tara’s pain. "I can’t even imagine it, Baby. It’s just too much for you; it’s too much for anyone."
Tara looked up at the ceiling, as if discerning some truth among the aging tiles. "Have you ever noticed that that phrase makes no sense? That something is ‘too much’?"
As Willow fumbled to apologize, Tara interrupted her. "No, Sweetie; you didn’t say anything wrong. I’m just saying that it doesn’t really matter if something should be too much. Things still happen however they happen. I mean, life doesn’t tap you on the shoulder mid-way through some trauma and ask, ‘Is this too much? Because if it is, I’ll back off right now.’"
"You’re right," Willow murmured. "I just hate watching you go through all of this—not just today, but knowing what you’ve gone through your entire life. It’s so unfair, and I know life isn’t fair but that doesn’t stop me from wanting it to be, especially where you’re concerned." She felt Tara pulling her more tightly into her arms. They held each other in silence for a moment.
When Tara spoke again, her voice was quiet and almost contemplative. "You know, a part of me wasn’t surprised. About Daddy, or—goddess, I don’t know what to call him right now." She took a deep breath. "Somehow, it just didn’t shock me the way I would have expected. It’s like it explains some things."
"Such as…?" Willow asked gently.
"Such as him always being so distant from me. Never having anything to say to me, it seemed. There were times when he almost seemed afraid of me, Will, and I know that makes no sense, because there were lots of times when he flat-out terrified me. But—it’s like he never knew how to act around me, or what to say to me. And now I find out that he raised me, knowing I wasn’t his, but he never told Mama the truth…" She trailed off, tears sliding rapidly down her cheeks now.
"And Mama…oh goddess, Willow; I can’t believe she did what she did. I mean, she not only cheated on Daddy, she took Donny with her. He was there, every time they—" Willow watched her gulp back a sob, unable to finish. "Willow, she was my heroine. I knew she wasn’t perfect, but I didn’t know she was that imperfect. I feel like I don’t even know her anymore."
"Tara, that’s not true!" Willow was stunned by the force in her voice, but continued. Something told her that of all the revelations that Tara had withstood today, the news of her mother’s infidelity was the hardest to bear. "She’s still your mother. She’s still the woman who told you how wonderful you were, who sewed such wonderful dresses for you and braided your hair and taught you magic. She doesn’t have to be perfect for those things to be true." She stopped, out of breath.
Tara looked at her, eyes shining. "But she didn’t do those things for Donnie. Nobody did those things for Donnie." Guilt flashed through her eyes, now dark with pain.
Willow fought her own resentment at Donnie, a resentment that made it difficult to feel any compassion for him. "Tara, you don’t know that. You don’t know which came first, Donnie’s surliness—which would make it harder for anyone to bond with him—or your mother’s infidelity. You can’t know that; no one can. And remember, your mom had post-partum depression after he was born. That wasn’t her fault; it wasn’t his fault. It was just a bad break, and I know that doesn’t make it better, but neither does trying to reach a verdict when you can’t get all the evidence."
Heart wrenching at the sight of tears cascading over Tara’s face, the drops illuminated by candlelight until they seemed like so many tiny jewels, Willow propped herself up on one elbow and kissed her beloved’s soft flesh, drying the wetness with her own fingers and cheeks. I can handle anything except seeing her in pain. Except that that’s what she needs from me right now—to be with her and not try to make it all go away. This isn’t magic.
Turning slightly, Tara offered herself up fully to Willow’s embrace. Crying now herself, Willow held her fiercely. "You’re home now, Baby. I’ll be your home from now on." She felt Tara nod against her neck.
"Willow, Sweetie—I don’t think I’ve ever been this exhausted." The crying seemed to have stopped for the moment, as Willow gently stroked her hair.
"It’s OK, Baby. I mean, of course you’re wiped out." She eased down onto her pillow, careful to keep Tara cradled gently within her arms. "Just close your eyes and drift off. I’ll keep you safe and warm."
She was surprised and a little disconcerted to see Tara pull back slightly, until she was looking down at Willow with a desperate, aching gaze.
"Willow…I need you to touch me, all over." Her eyes were luminous in the dark.
Willow was taken aback by the words. "You—you want to make love? You feel like that now? Because I’d be more than happy—" She fell silent at the feeling of Tara’s fingers on her lips.
"No, not make love; at least, not in the usual sense of the phrase." Her brow furrowed as she fought to make herself understood. "I need you to touch me, bring me back to here, to you. I feel like I’ve been thrown around, pushed around all day by one person or another. Just going back there, seeing everything as if I were seeing it for the first time. I feel…not me, Willow. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like a stranger in my own skin." Her gaze became needful, and urgent. "I need you to put your hands on me, all over me. Not sexually, but…" She shook her head, frustration working her lips into a frown. "I don’t need you to try to satisfy me. Just…Just touch me, Willow. Please." The last word was whispered, almost pleading.
And Willow finally understood. Nodding, she leaned forward and kissed Tara gently on the full lips, and then began to trace her fingers over the indescribably warm, soft flesh of her beloved’s face. She brushed the last vestiges of tears from her cheeks, and leaned over once more to kiss the line that her fingers had drawn.
Moving slowly down over the graceful arc of Tara’s neck, Willow’s fingers pressed gently into the hollow at the base, feeling the deep thrum of Tara’s pulse. She let her fingers wander lower still, stopping to cup the full, heavy breasts into her palms.
"You’re mine," she murmured through the choking in her own voice. "Just like I’m yours. Just like I’ll always be." She squeezed Tara’s breasts once more before trailing her hands gently but firmly over Tara’s belly, knowing just how to touch her to avoid tickling her. Then she edged her body slightly lower in the bed, pressing her palms into the firm thighs and down the long legs before sliding back up along the backs of those legs to curve her fingers over Tara’s soft, rounded hips.
"No matter where you go, or what you learn, the one constant is me. I will always be here, Tara. Because I’m yours. No one else can ever have me; no one else will ever know what my hands feel like on their flesh. Because I will always belong to you. Just like you belong to me." She saw Tara’s eyes glittering in the flicker of candlelight, and wondered how she could breathe in the presence of such beauty.
She ran her fingers over the small of Tara’s back, and then up toward the surprising muscles of her shoulders and upper back, squeezing her fingers into the strength that always delighted and satisfied her.
"Do you feel it, Tara? Do you feel yourself coming back to yourself? Coming back to me? Stay with me, Tara. Don’t ever leave me. This, right now—this is reality, the only reality that matters. Stay with me always, Tara. We’ll make a home and raise children and grow old together and we’ll say the hard things that we need to say and we’ll laugh more than any two people have any right to and we’ll putter around in a garden that grows every herb we need and our grandchildren will always be coming over to our house because we’ll spoil them so rotten and they’ll climb onto your lap and you’ll sing to them in that incredible voice of yours and I’ll sit and watch and think once again how lucky I am."
She slid her fingers into the thick silk of Tara’s hair. "Stay with me, Tara. Because I’ll always stay with you. Because this is home, wherever we are."
And with those words, she pulled her beloved close to her, and the last thing she heard before both of them drifted off onto some other realm was Tara’s voice, infinitely soft, saying, "I’m back. And I’m yours."
To be continued
Edited by: AntigoneUnbound at: 3/26/03 10:24:19 pm