Molly not like him!
But Molly does love this story!
------------------
Now that I know there's something to know, I can't *not* know, just because I'm afraid
somebody'll know I know, you know?
by mollyig » Wed Jan 30, 2002 12:21 pm
Molly not like him!
But Molly does love this story!
------------------
Now that I know there's something to know, I can't *not* know, just because I'm afraid
somebody'll know I know, you know?
by katydid » Wed Jan 30, 2002 2:10 pm
------------------
"She practically has 'genuine molded plastic' stamped on her ass.
by ForeverPiper » Wed Jan 30, 2002 2:42 pm
Great chapter...can't wait till the next one.
--------------------------------------------
Poor watcher, did your life pass before your eyes? Cuppa tea, cuppa tea, almost got shagged, cuppa tea? - SPIKE
by willterra » Wed Jan 30, 2002 2:52 pm
by Sassette » Fri Feb 01, 2002 12:07 am
There will likely be no update this weekend, as I am just turned 24, so I will be out and about all weekend. Hopefully, I'll get a break sometime saturday morning/afternoon in which to write some more, but I'm doubting it.
Anyway - have a great weekend, and I'll have the next bit up Monday or Tuesday.
-Sass
by YuriPup » Mon Feb 04, 2002 9:34 pm
[This message has been edited by YuriPup (edited February 04, 2002).]
by fell » Tue Feb 05, 2002 1:47 am
Either way, I'm eagerly awaiting more.
by Sassette » Fri Feb 08, 2002 2:36 pm
Okay - I had a GREAT birthday ... thanks you all. I know I'm way overdue on an update, but I spent the week kinda' ... recovering ... from the birthday stuff *G*
If my date tonight is bloody awful, I'll be home early and posting an update tonight - otherwise, don't expect to see it before Saturday night.
-Sass
by Pixie » Fri Feb 08, 2002 4:32 pm
by ForeverPiper » Fri Feb 08, 2002 5:50 pm
-----------------------------
Willow! Check you out! Witch-fu. -BUFFY
by Sassette » Sun Feb 10, 2002 10:48 pm
Thanks so much for all the comments, btw - it's extremely helpful to know what a reader is thinking at what point in the story ... it lets me know how I'm doing, and since this has a rather convoluted plot (despite my intention of writing a mushy plotless reconciliation fic), words can't express how invaluable that is to me. So, thank you.
Title: Answering Darkness Part 26 - Through Hell
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to pink_overalls@yahoo.com
Summary: Xander calls Anya and tells her what's going on.
Spoiler Warning: Up to and including "Tabula Rasa" in Season 6.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm just borrowing them because Season 6 angst is running high, and I want my happy ending now, dammit! So I'm writing it … but it'll be awhile until I get to that part, so bear with me (or "bare" with me if you're naughty).
Rating: PG-13
Notes: For the purpose of this story, all events of Tabula Rasa took place exactly as shown in the series; however, no subsequent episodes will affect this piece. We're splitting from canon here, because this seems the fastest way to get a reconciliation and because I feel this is one of the possible outcomes when taking the "addiction" metaphor into account. So, I should shut the heck up now, and just get to the story, right? Right.
Answering Darkness Part 26
Through Hell
By Sassette
"I could be driving through hell itself, and I'd have no idea," Tara mused aloud. The headlights, even on high, barely illuminated the road in front of her. Rain fell all around, but the highway was straight and deserted, and she really didn't care that she was driving too fast. She had somewhere to go and somewhere to get back to, and a sense of urgency that propelled her forward as surely as her foot pressed onto the gas pedal.
It was day two of the Road Trip Through Hell, as Tara had taken to mentally calling it. Or, technically, it was night two, as they had slept a good portion of the day away and were pushing on to the next town to make up the time. Of course, they really didn't need to make up time, as they had ended up driving most of the night the night before.
The night before had certainly been interesting and given her plenty to think about. But right now she didn't want to think about it. She wanted the peace and the quiet, but the rain had a strange effect on her that leant itself towards introspection. Without her consent, her mind turned towards the phone call they had received the night before.
"Hello?" Anya asked, having fumbled for the cell phone and gotten the thing open. It rang in her ear, causing her to start once again. She pulled it away, pressing a button, then lifting it to her ear again. "Hello?"
She paused, clearly listening to whoever was on the line. Tara's heart pounded in her throat, at both the startling suddenness of the phone call, and worry about why they were being called in the first place.
"Did something happen with the shop? Is the money all right?" Anya asked quickly. "Well, you said all the people were fine, so I assumed something had happened to my money," Anya she replied to whatever was being said defensively.
Tara let out a relieved breath, vague images of Willow or Dawn … or any of the Scoobies, really … being attacked by some shadowy demon leaving her mind at Anya's words.
"Oh. She went? Really?" Anya asked, a small smile lifting the corner of her mouth. "That's … that's wonderful, Xander," Anya said, her smile growing. "I know how much that meant to you."
Tara smiled too at the obvious love in Anya's voice. It was clear that something good had happened to Xander, and that Anya was sharing in his joy.
"I love you too," Anya said, an uncharacteristic look of devotion crossing her face, making Tara wonder if this Anya - this woman who was so clearly in love - was the one Xander was used to seeing. "But this call is costing money, so I should go. Call if anything else happens."
Tara smirked. Now >that< was the Anya she was used to.
With a little sigh, Anya disconnected the phone, turning to beam at Tara.
"Something good happened?" Tara asked, hoping the conversation had finally turned away from Willow.
"Oh yes, definitely," Anya said.
"What?" Tara prodded when it seemed Anya wasn't going to continue.
"Willow went to her first AA meeting tonight," she announced.
"What?" Tara asked. "But Willow doesn't drink," she said, that being the first thought to pop into her mind.
"Oh, I know … but she clearly has a problem with Dark Magick, so the overall situation is similar, if not exactly the same on the specifics. It was Xander's idea."
"So Xander made her go to a meeting?" Tara asked, part of her hoping this would help the Willow she had fallen in love with come back, the other part failing to see how forced attendance at an AA meeting would accomplish that.
"No," Anya said, shaking her head. "Xander says he's read a lot about AA over the years," Anya said, her words making Tara's thoughts turn to Xander's confession about his own parents' alcoholism, and she suddenly understood why this was so important to Xander. "The only way it works is when it's voluntary," Anya explained. "So Xander just gave Willow the flyer and told her to think about it. Apparently, she showed up, and Xander and Buffy and Dawn and Spike were already there to show their support. Willow didn't know they were going to do that. She was pretty surprised."
Tara nodded, her mind envisioning a nervous Willow working up the courage to go to a meeting by herself, and the relief and gratitude she must have felt when she saw her friends there. An irrational stab of jealousy cut through her at the thought that the rest of the Scoobies had gotten to be there for Willow while she, herself, was driving through a storm.
"Did you know about this when you came and found me?" Tara asked.
"I knew that Xander had given her the flyer, and that he was going to go, but I didn't know everyone was going to be there. He must have gone over to Buffy's and told them what was going on."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Tara wondered aloud.
"Xander and I discussed it. We didn't think … we didn't want to get your hopes up, or have you get disappointed in Willow if she didn't go," Anya explained.
"Maybe I would have wanted to be there," Tara said, even as she asked that question of herself. Would she have gone if she had known? Would that have helped Willow, or hurt her? She would have liked to have gone, but would that have just thrown them back into the uncertain ground where each had no idea where they stood with the other?
"Would you have gone?" Anya asked curiously.
"I don't know," Tara confessed.
Anya dozed beside her, occasionally stirring when a deep roll of thunder would cut through the patter of the rain. Intermittently, a flash of lightning would flare bright against the outline of the mountain peaks in the distance, the electric lines of blue dancing across Tara's vision for a few moments after they had passed. The brief glimpses of the barren landscape all around the highway stayed with her until the next flash.
It certainly could be Hell. With the emptiness and the darkness and the storm all around, it wouldn't surprise her to learn that was exactly what Hell looked like.
"Who am I kidding?" she asked the rain. "This >is< Hell," she mumbled bitterly. Here she was, driving away from the home she had made towards the nightmare she had left behind, with the cruel knowledge in her mind and heart that the one person she had trusted above all others had lied to her and manipulated her. She had to clamp down on the urge to drive about forty miles an hour faster and just let the Goddess decide whether or not she was going to make it to the next town.
"This isn't Hell," Anya said groggily, sitting up and rubbing her eyes, then hawning hugely. "It's 'Middle of Nowhere California,' but I can understand why you'd get the two mixed up. The only difference really, is that Hell has more people in it."
"I was just … thinking out loud," Tara explained weakly.
"Yeah, well, stop thinking gloomy dark things," Anya demanded. "It's weird and eerie and goes against the natural order of things."
"Why do I always have to be Ms. Pollyanna Sweetness and Light?" Tara shot back.
"Because you >are< Ms. Pollyanna Sweetness and Light," Anya said reasonably, even as she tried to figure out what a 'polyanna' was. "Should I put the Spice Girls back on?" Anya offered helpfully, reaching for the tape deck. "We were having fun singing along, and I'd much rather be having fun than not."
"I still can't believe Spike had that in here," Tara said, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth despite herself.
Anya let a little triumphant grin appear at Tara's returning good humor, but said nothing, preferring to gloat in silence, just this once.
"I really figured him for more of an ACDC kind of guy. Or Ozzy Ozborne," Tara said.
"He thinks Ozzy Ozborne is a wannabe wanker, and not really evil at all," Anya said. "We talked about it once. You know, like each of us would come up with a person, and we'd debate 'Really Evil, or just Unpleasant By Human Standards'. In fact, we play that game every time we end up stuck in the same room with each other."
"So who qualified for really evil?" Tara asked, instantly curious.
"Most serial killers," Anya started, trying to remember how the conversation actually went.
"Only 'most'?" Tara asked incredulously.
"Well, yeah," Anya said, as if Tara hadn't previously known that two and two equal four. "Like that one guy who said that his dog told him to do it. True Evil knows no shame."
"Didn't he 'shamelessly' blame his poor innocent doggy?" Tara asked.
"True. But dodging responsibility is more pathetic than Evil. It shows a lack of dedication. That's why really Evil bad guys just kill minions who try to shift blame when something goes wrong," Anya explained.
"Okay," Tara said, nodding. "So who else?"
"Well, Willow came in on the conversation once, and put forth Bill Gates," Anya said, staring thoughtfully out her window at the rain and missing the look of hurt and longing that crossed Tara's face at Willow's name. "At first, Spike and I were skeptical, but she made a great case."
"So who else?" Tara asked with forced cheerfulness, desperately trying to get the subject off of Willow.
"Tara?" Anya asked, something in Tara's tone making her look up sharply at the driver. It was clear to her that her ill-thought-out mention of Willow was bringing back Tara's gloomy mood, and that just wouldn't do.
"Yes?" Tara asked, forcing a smile and glancing over at Anya.
"Everything's going to be okay," Anya said firmly.
"Everything? Which everything?" Tara asked, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Global warming? We'll fix the ozone layer?" she asked, warming up to the topic and getting on a roll. "Gay marriages will be legalized everywhere? Hot dogs and hot dog buns will have the same number of edibles in their packages? Britney Spears will be exposed as a no-talent cock-tease?"
Anya blinked, taken aback by Tara's words. "Did you just say 'cock-tease'?" she asked incredulously.
A warm flush crawled up Tara's neck. "Umm … yes?" she answered uncertainly. "Can we talk about something else?" she asked, a pleading look in her eyes.
"Sure," Anya said, going back to her original topic. "I meant that everything will be all right between you and Willow, and that we'll get this whole Hell God thing sorted out."
"It's not that simple," Tara protested on a sigh.
"I never said it would be simple - I just said it would all work out," Anya clarified. "I mean, you two are just like Xena and Gabrielle."
"We're lesbians?" Tara asked, trying and failing to find a connection. "And how do you have all this free time to watch TV?" she wondered.
"I make time," Anya said proudly. "I'm trying to learn more about how humans interact. I mean, I've been human for several years now, but I still sometimes feel like I'm saying or doing the wrong thing. Did you know that while humans say they value honesty, they lie constantly?" she asked, curious as to Tara's opinion on this phenomenon she had noticed. "It's like, they're all bitter and angry when they're lied to, but when it's >them< doing the lying, then it's okay. That really doesn't make any sense to me. It's easier to just tell people exactly what you think at all times."
"I - I guess … it really depends on >why< the person is lying," Tara said slowly, wondering what Anya's point was. "What's your point?" she finally asked, realizing the best way to find something out from Anya was to just ask her.
"No point, really," Anya said cheerfully. "It's just something I've noticed on TV, that's all."
"Ummm … okay," Tara said, nodding. A conversation with Anya, she had learned, was an adventure. It's like Anya had a map that led to her point, but one never knew whether she was going to just jump right to it, or take the long and winding scenic route to get there. Not that Anya was the type to hem and haw around a point - she'd just get caught up in her honest curiosity about existing in a human society. Which, Tara supposed, was pretty understandable, given her background.
"Anyway, you two are definitely lesbians, but I was talking about how you belong together, like Xena and Gabrielle do."
"If the word 'soulmate' comes out of your mouth, I may have to gag," Tara warned, feeling like this was a topic she really didn't want to discuss with Anya right now. "And it's a bad idea to make the driver gag."
"You don't believe in … that thing?" Anya asked curiously, avoiding the word.
"It's just … overused, like 'soulmate' this and 'soulmate' that is everywhere you turn around. I think that if there is such a thing, it would be really really rare," Tara explained.
"How come you get to use the word and I don't?" Anya complained. "Nevermind," she said quickly, "because I have a point here. It definitely exists, and it's definitely rare. It was always a great coup in the Vengeance world when you could get two souls that were destined to be together to betray the other, because it would stay with them in each reincarnation until they worked out the issue. That's why you two need to work this out - because it's going to stay with you."
"Willow and I aren't … I mean, we love each other, yes, but … " Tara protested weakly.
"Bull. Two witches who just happen to end up on a Hellmouth and work magick together stronger than they do apart? And I mean the light stuff, not the heavy dark stuff. Willow totally took a shortcut there, but come on," Anya said. "That has 'Fate' written all over it."
"I don't care if it has 'Fate Was Here' tattooed on its ass," Tara said, her voice dropping in volume on the last word as she squirmed a little in her seat, uncomfortable with her own swearing. "That still doesn't change what Willow did to me."
"Xena wanted to kill Gabrielle's baby, Gabrielle lied to her, then Gabrielle pretty much killed Xena's son, then Xena dragged Gabrielle halfway across Greece tied to the back of a horse, and everything worked out for them," Anya pointed out.
"My life is not a TV show!" Tara said testily. "And Xena didn't ever take away Gabrielle's choices, did she? Everytime Gabrielle wanted to leave, Xena let her, didn't she?"
"You were going to leave Willow?" Anya asked incredulously. "I thought you two were just fighting."
"That's not the point. The point is, we'll never know if I was going to end up leaving her. We'll never know if that fight would have resolved itself, or if it would have broken us up, because Willow took away my ability to make an informed choice on the matter, and that really pisses me off!"
"That's good," Anya encouraged her. "Let out your feelings. You've got to vent."
"Don't tell me you watch Oprah, too?" Tara said on a sigh, feeling her anger drain away from her, leaving her feeling empty and hollow inside.
"Xander has it set up so the VCR records it," Anya explained. "And you're going to forgive her," Anya went on relentlessly, as Tara mentally threw her hands in the air, realizing there was no way she was going to be able to change this subject before Anya had her say. "Because you're just like Gabrielle. You're just full of goodness and light and love."
"How come Willow gets to be Xena?" Tara muttered with a little frown.
"Because she's done terrible things that she may never forgive herself for, even if you do," Anya pointed out. "Now that she realizes just how wrong she was, and just how badly she hurt you, I'm not sure she'll ever get out over it."
Tara blinked, her mouth working soundlessly as her eyes teared up. Sometimes … sometimes Anya surprised her. They'd be having a perfectly ridiculous conversation, and suddenly, something would come out of her mouth that just nailed her between the eyes with the suddenness of it. For someone whose experience with humans consisted mostly of wreaking havoc in their lives, Anya's peculiar insight and way of looking at things was … dead on. She was, Tara realized with a sinking heart, right.
"Of course, that makes Buffy and Xander Hercules and Iolaus," Anya went on, working out the parallels as she went. "And Spike is … well, Spike is … Callisto," she went on. "And I get to be Salmoneus! That noble and dedicated man, travelling the countryside and bolstering the Ancient Greek Economy."
And sometimes, Tara thought with a relieved little giggle at escaping the heaviness of Anya's previous words, Anya was totally predictable.
"Can we turn the Spice Girls back on?" Anya asked hopefully, finally sensing that Tara wasn't necessarily enjoying the parallels between the Scooby Gang and Xena: Warrior Princess like she was.
"Sure. Which one?" Tara asked with a relieved grin. If anyone had ever told her she would one day feel relieved to be putting on the Spice Girls, she would have laughed in their face.
Anya handed over a tape merely labelled 'Spice', and Tara popped it in. She needed some mindless entertainment right now, and she meant that in the loosest sense of the word 'entertainment'. Though, she had to admit inwardly, there was something inherently funny to her about listening to an ex-Vengeance Demon who used to grant wishes belting out, 'Tell me what you want, what you really really want!'
Anya bounced excitedly in her seat, then composed herself, waiting for the first song to start. The intro to 'Wannabe' started up, and Anya and Tara started bouncing in unison, Tara occasionally taking one hand off the wheel as they did the synchronized choreography they had worked out the first two times they had played through the tape.
"Isn't there something wrong about enjoying this so much?" Anya finally asked into the silence once the tape was finished and Tara thoughtfully rewound it.
"Usually, I'd say yes. Enjoying the Spice Girls is wrong. Very wrong," Tara said, nodding at her own point. "But since we're planning on teasing Spike with it, I'd say it's for a good cause."
"Good," Anya said, nodding firmly. "I'd hate to feel bad about enjoying this."
Tara opened her mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by a shrill little ring.
Anya jumped in her seat, letting out a little shriek, causing Tara to jump.
"Hello?" Anya asked, remembering to hit the button first this time. "The people? The money?" she asked before Xander could get a word in, assuming it was Xander.
Tara's heart raced again, as she figured it would every time the cell phone rang. Anya had been right. It certainly was handy to have the phone around, but every time it rang, she assumed the worst, and her imagination ran away with itself, offering up scenario after scenario, each more horrible than the last.
"Ewww," Anya said, a sick look on her face. "Black crackly stuff? Right in the street?"
"What is it?" Tara asked, the color draining from her face. "What's going on?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out," Anya said, looking over at Tara with a frown and covering the mouthpiece of the cell phone. She quickly turned her attention back to the phone conversation when Xander's voice continued on in her ear. "Uh-huh. So what did you find out when Mary Ellen got there?"
"Mary Ellen?" Tara asked. "Who's Mary Ellen?" she demanded.
"Shh!" Anya said. "No, not you, Xander. Chatty Tara needs to be quiet so I can hear what you're telling me."
Tara gripped the wheel, clenching her jaw, wondering if she should just pull over. Had something happened with Willow? Maybe this whole trip thing had been a stupid idea. Maybe she should just pull back.
"But she's okay right now, right?" Anya asked for confirmation.
Tara clenched her jaw tighter, clamping down on the questions that were demanding to be let out. She knew that she needed to let Anya talk, so she could find out what was going on, but she wanted to know now.
"Anything else I should know?" Anya asked after a good long pause in which Tara guessed Xander had explained most of the situation. Anya nodded several times, even though Xander couldn't see her, as the sound of the rain echoed unnaturally in the car.
"All right. I'll tell her," Anya said. "I love you," she finished, then disconnected the phone.
"What is it?" Tara asked, a feeling of dread washing over her.
"It's Willow," Anya said bluntly.
"Is she all right? Is everyone else all right? She didn't hurt anyone, right?" Tara asked rapidly.
"She's fine, everyone else is fine," Anya reassured Tara. "She had some kind of weird episode. She was just talking with Xander when she kind of freaked out and tried to run away."
"What?" Tara asked incredulously, wondering what could have happened to make Willow run from Xander.
"Anyway, it was pretty bad," Anya said. "Xander says he has no idea why she reacted like that. They were just talking, and then - Bam! Willow flipped."
"That's … that's really not good," Tara said. "Did she use magick?"
"No, and apparently, that was part of the problem," Anya said slowly.
"No, that's good," Tara insisted. "Willow shouldn't be using magick."
"I know, but she had a kind of … a Dark Magick build-up, I guess. There was lots of it in her system, and it wanted out. She ended up running outside and vomiting Dark Magick into the street. Mary Ellen cleaned it up."
"Oh, Goddess," Tara breathed, her heart aching for Willow. "We should go back," she said, firmly, slowing the car down.
"No," Anya said quickly, placing a hand on Tara's arm.
"Willow needs me," Tara insisted. "This … this is … much worse than I expected."
"Yes, it is," Anya agreed. "But that's because of The Trickster. They've pretty much confirmed that he's the source, so getting your mother's things is probably more important now, right?"
"I - " Tara began, indecision washing over her. Rush to Willow's side? Go after her mother's things? What, honestly, could she do for Willow right now? Was she even positive that her mother's things could be of any help?
Yes, she was. She didn't know how, but she was sure.
"Give me the phone," Tara demanded, speeding back up. "I want to talk to her," she said.
"She's sleeping right now," Anya said. "Xander says she looks terrible, and she really needs the rest."
"Who's Mary Ellen?" Tara finally asked, replaying the conversation in her mind.
"She's a witch. You've seen her, actually. She shops at the shop. Older woman, really colorful sweaters. Apparently, she's sponsoring Willow in AA. They called Giles when Willow flipped out, and Giles said to call Mary Ellen, so she knows her stuff."
"Giles said so?" Tara asked.
"Yes," Anya assured her.
"I guess … I guess that's okay, then. So what did Mary Ellen have to say?" Tara asked.
"She's a seer, apparently," Anya started to explain.
"Wait a minute," Tara said quickly. "She's not addicted to Dark Magick too, is she?" she asked, suddenly alarmed.
"No, of course not," Anya said. "We wouldn't let another Dark Magick user within a mile of Willow if we could help it. No, she's actually an alcoholic, but she knows about Dark Magick addiction. She recognized it in Willow right away, apparently, and was able to trace Willow's magick to its source."
"How? If Willow hadn't been casting, there's really no way to do that kind of a trace," Tara said, her brow furrowing in puzzlement.
"That's part of the problem. There's a steady stream of dark power from The Trickster into Willow," Anya confessed.
"But … that's impossible," Tara protested. "Those take time to build, no matter who is doing the building."
"I know," Anya said. "Mary Ellen says it looks like The Trickster has been building a connection from his end for years."
"Years?" Tara asked. "What other Dark Magick has Willow been doing that I don't know about? She wasn't doing that before I met her, right? I mean, she wasn't when we met, so how could she have … ?"
"They don't know yet," Anya said with a sigh. "They're looking into it."
"So what >do< they know?" Tara snapped. "I'm sorry," she said, immediately contrite. "I'm just … scared. And worried. And … Goddess, why does this all have to be so complicated?"
"It's okay," Anya said. "I know I'd flip out if Xander had somehow called the attention of a Dark God," she went on soothingly, her words having the opposite effect.
Tara merely nodded, waiting for Anya to continue.
"Okay, let me try to get this all right. Telling you in bits and pieces isn't really working," Anya said. "The Trickster is definitely Willow's source. She had an episode during her meeting and Mary Ellen noticed it, so she figured out who Willow's source was. Then she had another episode with Xander, and they called Giles. Giles said to call Mary Ellen, then Mary Ellen showed up."
Tara nodded, having gotten that much already. "So what, exactly, is an 'episode'?" she asked warily.
"The Trickster is clouding Willow's perceptions. He's twisting what's going on around her to make it seem hurtful or threatening, trying to tempt her into using Dark Magick. Mary Ellen did some kind of divination, and she saw this kind of lingering dark cloud all around Willow."
Tara's eyes went wide. "Oh, God. How long has that been going on?" she asked.
"They don't know," Anya answered grimly. "They just know that she was afraid that Spike's chip had stopped working at the AA meeting, and that she thought Xander was saying really awful things to her at Buffy's house."
"Can they stop it?" Tara asked.
"They're going to try to, once she wakes up," Anya said. "But they're not sure they can."
"But if they can't stop it, Willow could … she could hurt someone," Tara said, the awfulness of the situation washing over her, leaving her with a sick taste in the back of her throat.
"They know. They're doing all they can," Anya said. "And we're going to check your mother's things to see if there's anything useful in there."
Tara nodded, her face ashen. "What else? I'm sure there's more," Tara said, dread washing over her.
"Well, you know how Dawn is the Key?" Anya asked, not sure how to explain this next part and keep Tara on task at the same time, knowing the wiccan would want to immediately turn the car around.
"Is Dawn all right?" Tara asked quickly.
"She's fine - everyone fine," Anya repeated.
"Then what is it? I don't like it when you stall, Anya. It makes me very nervous."
"It's … you know how we think Willow is the descendant of that witch who closed the Hellmouth in the first place?" Anya asked, unable to keep herself from stalling again.
"Yes," Tara said slowly.
"That gives Willow a certain amount of power over The Trickster. Like, if Glory suddenly showed up again, Buffy would have extra power against her, because Buffy defeated her."
"So … Willow can stop him?" she Tara asked. "That's … that's good news, right? I mean, she could keep the Hell God from coming to this plane, right?"
"Well, yes, theoretically," Anya said. "But the point is, The Trickster really shouldn't be able to affect her at all, and we don't really know why he can."
"Please tell me that's it. Please tell me that's the extent of the badness," Tara pleaded.
"The Trickster needs Willow to open the Hellmouth. If he can trick her into opening it, he gets in," Anya finished with a sigh.
"That's it. We're going back," Tara said firmly.
"Tara, we really can't," Anya insisted. "Your mother's things. Focus on your mother's things, and how they'll help Willow," she said.
Tara took a deep shuddering breath, then nodded mutely, her face grim.
Without a word, Tara firmly pushed the Spice Girls tape back in, but neither woman sang along or did the choreography.
********************************************************
Extra Special Notes: First: I have nothing but love for Bill Gates, but clearly, Willow is a Mac user. Ewwww. Second: I swear I had to look up a discography of the Spice Girls on Google.
[This message has been edited by Sassette (edited February 11, 2002).]
by ForeverPiper » Mon Feb 11, 2002 3:39 am
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Willow! Check you out! Witch-fu. -BUFFY
by Charlie » Mon Feb 11, 2002 5:16 am
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"Je dois partir maintenant parce que ma grandmere est flambé..."
- Eddie 'covered in beeeees!' Izzard
by mollyig » Mon Feb 11, 2002 5:21 am
Great fic
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Now that I know there's something to know, I can't *not* know, just because I'm afraid
somebody'll know I know, you know?
by Web Warlock » Mon Feb 11, 2002 7:36 am
I so getting a kick out of this fic! Great job on Anya. I *can* see Spike listening to the Spice Girls.
Loved the Xena conparisons and especially Tara's line about her life not being a TV show.
Warlock.
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Web Warlock
web.warlock@attbi.com webwarlock@planetadnd.com
Author, the Netbooks of Witches and Warlocks
The Other Side: http://www.xtreme-gaming.com/theotherside/
Shadow Earth Games: http://www.rpghost.com/WebWarlock/
--
"I wish you would stop licking me and untie me!"
by BytrSuite » Mon Feb 11, 2002 11:37 pm
Loverly.
by katydid » Tue Feb 12, 2002 12:08 pm
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"She practically has 'genuine molded plastic' stamped on her ass.
by Sassette » Tue Feb 12, 2002 2:21 pm
As for the Spice Girls and the Xena things ... I have no idea where that came from. It sort of popped into my head, and there it was.
Anyway, I don't know if I'll have time to write tonight or not, as it is Buffy night which means a fun-filled evening of TV and a bizarre version of '20 Questions' in which my mother will grill me for all the details of my date. That should be fun *G*
But, I'm going to try to make time for writing ... next up is a little checking up on what's going on with Willow, and after that we have Tara and Anya arriving at their destination - which I am >really< looking forward to writing.
-Sass
Hey ... check this out ... I actually had time to write something tonight ... Wahoo! It's a little shorter than the updates have been recently, but ... it's there.
Title: Answering Darkness Part 27 – Hope
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to pink_overalls@yahoo.com
Summary: Some chatting and stuff.
Spoiler Warning: Up to and including "Tabula Rasa" in Season 6.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm just borrowing them because Season 6 angst is running high, and I want my happy ending now, dammit! So I'm writing it … but it'll be awhile until I get to that part, so bear with me (or "bare" with me if you're naughty).
Rating: PG-13
Notes: For the purpose of this story, all events of Tabula Rasa took place exactly as shown in the series; however, no subsequent episodes will affect this piece. We're splitting from canon here, because this seems the fastest way to get a reconciliation and because I feel this is one of the possible outcomes when taking the "addiction" metaphor into account. So, I should shut the heck up now, and just get to the story, right? Right.
Answering Darkness
Part 27 - Hope
By Sassette
Willow woke slowly, groaning at the soreness of her abdominal muscles. She felt them tighten, then spasm, and then she was leaning over the side of the bed, blindly grabbing the strategically placed bucket and vomiting that nasty black crackly stuff.
"Okay, Ewww," Dawn said, peeking into the room. She really wasn't sure if she should walk over and help Willow, or run away. Willow progressed to dry heaves, her eyes watering as she gagged. With a few gasping breaths, she sat up, then doubled over as coughs racked her body.
"Ewww," Dawn said again, wrinkling up her nose and walking gingerly into the room. She sat carefully next to Willow, grabbing a glass of water off the nightstand and handing it over. Willow gratefully accepted the water, taking a few ginger sips.
"Yeah, eww," she finally agreed when she could get words past her throat.
"Okay, so are you going to be doing this for a long time, or … ?" Dawn prompted, grabbing a box of baking soda off the nightstand and dumping some into the bucket. Immediately, a hissing sound was heard, then subsided.
"What was that?" Willow asked, her natural curiosity moving past the "ick" factor.
"Magick Baking Soda. Mary Ellen kinda' infused it with witchy goodness," Dawn explained, putting the box back down. "It neutralizes the … ewww stuff, so that it isn't dangerous."
"Oh my God … it's dangerous?" Willow asked weakly, fear and guilt filling her eyes.
"Hey … it's not nearly as dangerous in the bucket as it is in a spell, okay?" Dawn said soothingly, rubbing Willow's back. "Of course, if you'd just pick the right spell, you could have Tara back. It was totally dumb of you to get caught and drive her away."
"Okay," Willow said wearily. "Is this that stupid Trickster thing again, or are you just being a teenager?"
"Huh?" Dawn asked, pulling back to look at Willow.
"I guess that answers that question," Willow said, falling backwards onto the bed with a sigh. "Why am I here?" she asked suddenly, her brow furrowing and her lips pulling into a frown.
"We're not going to have one of those deep and meaningful philosophical conversations, are we?" Dawn asked, her eyebrows raising.
"No, I mean … >here< here … in … uhh … Tara's room," Willow explained, her heart tripping over the idea of calling this 'Tara's room' instead of 'our room.'
“Because you’re sick, and we’re going to take care of you until you’re better,” Buffy said, walking into the room and standing next to Dawn, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Aren’t we?” she asked, looking at her sister.
“Oh, definitely,” Dawn said, nodding vigorously. “You just stay here until you’re feeling better. Do you need anything? Food? Blankets?”
“Urk. No food, please,” Willow said, her guts roiling and her nose wrinkling up.
“You need to keep your strength up, Wills,” Buffy said kindly, directing a worried look at her friend.
“No, I …” Willow said, her mind turning over exactly how she could avoid putting food into her upset tummy. “I have to go to class!” she blurted out in a panic, the thought suddenly striking her. She threw the covers aside and swung her legs over and moved to stand, only to be interrupted by a slayer hand smack dab in the middle of her chest.
“No,” Buffy said, her lips pursing. “>You< need to lie back down and get some rest. You’re not going anywhere today, even if I have to sit on you to keep you from moving, so don’t even think about it.”
“But the school! And the learning!” Willow protested.
“You’re obviously nuts,” Dawn said flatly. “If Buffy let me stay home from school, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
“And you,” Buffy said, levelling a serious stare at Dawn, “are going to school, so don’t even try it.”
“But come on,” Dawn wheedled. “We’re having an emergency here. I could help look after Willow while you and Xander do your Scooby stuff.”
“Nice try,” Buffy said flatly. “But it ain’t gonna’ work.”
“Fine,” Dawn huffed, standing up and walking out of the room, her arms crossed over her chest. Buffy watched her go, a sad fond smile on her face.
“How are things with Dawn?” Willow asked quietly.
“They’re fine,” Buffy answered brightly, only to have her face fall moments later. “It’s … pretty rough,” she confessed. “I sometimes feel like … listen to me,” she continued wryly. “Here I am, dumping my problems on you when you’ve got your own stuff to worry about.”
“No,” Willow protested, shaking her head. “Do the dumping. I like the dumping. Not that I like that you have problems, or that things are hard right now, but I’m the best friend, and the dumping is what friendship is all about.”
“I think this might fall under the ‘kicking them while they’re down’ category,” Buffy said. “You’ve got enough on your plate.”
“Like you don’t have just as much? Or more?” Willow shot back. “Buffy, I don’t want to be another burden for you. I don’t want to be another thing you have to tiptoe around or … something that you have to take care of. I … I just want to be there for you, and I know that what you’re going through is just … I can’t even imagine,” she went on, choking up a little more with each word. “So don’t you dare think that you’re dumping on me.”
“Thanks,” Buffy said simply, moving to the door. “I gotta’ see Dawn off to school. We’ll talk later, okay?”
“Promise?” Willow pressed.
“I promise,” Buffy affirmed, nodding her head once. She shut the door quietly behind her, then bounded down the stairs, walking into the living room as Dawn was putting her books into her backpack.
“Hey,” Buffy said by way of a greeting.
“Hey,” Dawn said, looking down as she zipped up her backpack.
“You, uhh … you didn’t really expect me to just let you stay home from school, did you?” Buffy asked uncertainly. Things had been all topsy-turvy since she had come back from the dead, and it was like she kept expecting the ground to open up beneath her, or the sky to fall or something. The humdrum of every day life jarred her to the core, and made her completely unsure as to where she stood anymore.
In a corner of her mind, she was guiltily glad of the distraction the Hell God brought. It grounded her, and gave her a sense of purpose like nothing up to that point had. Even, she admitted to herself, caring for Dawn.
“No,” Dawn said, a wry look on her face. “That would be too much to ask for, wouldn’t it?”
“Dawn,” Buffy said, her tone serious. “I just … there are things that everyone has to do. And for a fifteen-year-old, school is one of those.”
“Buffy, it’s okay,” Dawn said, exasperation evident in her voice. “You’re not seriously apologizing for making me go to school, are you?” she asked incredulously.
“No?” Buffy responded. “No,” she said more firmly at Dawn’s strange look. “It’s just that … I know it’s been … weird. Having me back. And I know I haven’t been … exactly the same. It’s … I can’t really explain it,” she said, shaking her head. “Things are hard, but … I just want you to know that I’m trying. And that if I’m not always … what you need me to be – it’s not because I don’t care.”
Dawn blinked once, then twice. She had noticed Buffy’s distance – her indifference. How could she not? It had gnawed at her and needled her until she was pretty sure that Buffy really didn’t care.
“So it’s …” Dawn began, her eyes watering. “It’s, umm … it’s not … me?” she asked quietly.
“God, Dawn, no,” Buffy said, moving to her sister and wrapping her in a hug. “I just … there’s so much that should be normal and familiar that’s all … strange and … sometimes I can’t make sense of things, like it doesn’t make sense, y’know? Like the whole world is this big scary crazy place that just doesn’t make sense.”
“The world doesn’t make sense,” Dawn affirmed, letting herself fall into her sister’s embrace. “It just kinda’ … is.”
They stood like that for a few more minutes, until the doorbell rang. Dawn pulled back, wiping at her eyes and avoiding her sister’s gaze.
“Sister bonding time over?” she asked, hefting her backpack and resting it on her shoulder.
“Yeah,” Buffy said, giving Dawn one last squeeze on the arm.
“Okay,” Dawn said, nodding and sniffing. She walked to the door, opening it up to see a smiling Xander ready to take her to school. “And Buffy?” she said, stepping out the door. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Dawn,” Buffy said as the door closed and her sister left for school. She shook her head, wiping her own tears away. It hurt, saying those things to Dawn. It hurt to feel those things and to talk about it, but she had to. She had no idea if it was the right thing to do – Dawn was only fifteen, and it was an awful lot to dump on a teenager, but … maybe it would make things … better?
Wearily, Buffy trudged up the stairs, letting out a puff of air and pulling herself upwards by the banister. One sensitive chat down, one to go, she told herself, pushing open the door and walking into Willow’s room. Or, Tara’s room. She really preferred, she decided, thinking of it as ‘Willow and Tara’s room’.
“Hey,” Willow said, looking up from where she was picking dejectedly at the comforter over her lap.
“Hey,” Buffy said, moving to sit at her friend’s side. “You still bummed about the missing school thing?” she asked, rubbing Willow’s upper arm.
“I … umm … what, exactly, happened last night?” Willow asked dully.
“I – which part of last night? ‘Cuz lots happened,” Buffy said, not knowing where to start.
“I … I think I … ummm … I think I almost … hurt Xander,” she confessed, her eyes filling with tears. She brushed them away impatiently, wondering where all the crying was coming from. It seemed like she did an awful lot of crying these days.
“It wasn’t your fault, Will,” Buffy said firmly.
“No, it was. It was like –“
“No. You didn’t know what was happening,” Buffy persisted.
“But I did,” Willow said, her voice sounding hollow and small as she stared unseeing at her hands in her lap. “I knew it was Xander. I thought he was … I thought he was saying mean things, but … I almost … Buffy, if I had gotten mad enough, I could’ve killed him.”
“But you didn’t,” Buffy said. “And I don’t think there’s enough mad in the world to make you hurt Xander on purpose. You were in a completely different place, and you still managed to run away instead of lash out. You’re a good person.”
“No, I’m not,” Willow said, her face pulling into a little frown. “I … I can’t believe some of the things I’ve done … I just …” she said, gesturing weakly with one hand. “I can’t believe …”
“Willow,” Buffy said firmly. “We all make mistakes. We all do things we regret. But you didn’t do anything permanent. You didn’t do anything lasting. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“That’s what I can’t believe,” Willow said, her face scrunching up into the very picture of miserable self-disgust. “I can’t believe that it’s going to be okay. Or that I deserve for it to be okay. I can’t believe in me anymore.”
“I believe in you,” Buffy said simply.
“How? How can you believe in me after … after what I did to you?” Willow responded.
“Because I can believe that if our situations were reversed, and I only knew what you knew, I’d have done the same thing,” Buffy said, brushing a lock of hair back from Willow’s face.
“That’s doesn’t excuse –“
“Yes, it does,” Buffy said, trying to lift the mantle of guilt from Willow’s shoulders. “I’ve … I’ve done a lot of thinking the last few days. With all this stuff going on … it’s made me think. What if I weren’t here?” she asked aloud. “What if you were all threatened, and there I was in my nice warm and happy place, without a care in the world and with no idea that everyone I love is hurting and scared?” Buffy’s lower lip trembled as she continued, even though her own words seemed to pierce her heart like a sword. “How can I be so selfish as to think that was a good thing?”
“How can you be so noble that you think being in Heaven is a bad thing?” Willow asked, her tears leaking out and spilling over her cheeks.
“Well, it wasn’t >bad<,” Buffy said, a tremulous smile forming. “But I think … I think that if I had to choose between the knowing and the not knowing … I’d rather know. It’s like … I’ve finally remembered why I jumped off the tower in the first place. It wasn’t because I was giving up, but because Dawn needed me.”
“That’s not fair to you, Buffy,” Willow protested. “You’ve done so much … you’ve given so much, and we just … we took you away from the peace you deserved.”
“It’ll still be there. In the meantime, Dawn needs me, and you and Xander and Anya and Tara. Really, the whole world needs me, but just between you and me, I don’t like to think about that part,” she added conspiratorially. “The pressure, you know.”
Willow cracked a smile at that, a little breath of laughter escaping.
“I’m sorry, Buffy,” Willow said seriously, looking at her friend. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to hold everything together without you.”
“You’re the strongest person I know, Will,” Buffy said, shaking her head. “Because you do this without Slayer Powers. You always have, even from the beginning. You and Xander amaze me,” she confessed.
“We just … we’re your friends,” Willow protested. “Friends stick by each other.”
“Sure,” Buffy agreed. “When you need a truck to move your stuff, or you need help with your homework. You two were always there, even when the world was ending.”
“But we didn’t really do anything,” Willow went on. “You’re the one who always saved the day. You’re the hero, Buffy.”
“Do you remember,” Buffy said, her voice thoughtful. “Do you remember when we were sixteen and The Master was rising? And I, uhh … I died, that first time?”
“How could I forget?” Willow asked dully.
“I was completely ready to blow off my destiny to go to a dance,” Buffy admitted, her voice reflective. “And do you know what happened?”
“I … you were?” Willow asked, her brow furrowing. “What – what happened?”
“I talked to you. I saw the sick look in your eyes when you talked about how the vampires had gotten into the school, and how your world wasn’t safe anymore,” she said. “I … you were such a good friend, I needed you and everyone who was like you, to be safe.”
“Buffy … you … you died … because I got freaked by a vampire attack?” Willow asked incredulously. “Knowing that you were gonna’ die?”
“Yup,” Buffy confirmed.
“So how is knowing that I not only pulled you out of Heaven, but I got you killed in the first place, supposed to help?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“Because we saved the world that night. And I couldn’t have done it without you and Xander,” Buffy said simply. “So don’t you dare tell me that you and Xander did nothing. When things got too rough, you two, and Giles and Mom and Dawn … you’re the reasons why I kept going. You’re why I kept fighting. It’s just … I had forgotten that for awhile. With Mom being sick and Glory … everything seemed so hopeless.”
“And now?” Willow asked tentatively.
“Things are … better. Like, I can … I can do something here. I don’t know what yet, or how, but … I couldn’t have done anything where I was. Here, I can,” Buffy explained. “I feel hopeful, like I haven’t in a long time.”
“That’s … that’s really good, Buffy,” Willow said, nodding slightly. “Really good.”
“Yeah, I think it is.”
*****Edited to add the Update*****
[This message has been edited by Sassette (edited February 13, 2002).]
by mollyig » Wed Feb 13, 2002 2:06 am
And Willow's dialogue seemed so true - excellent work.
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"It took a long time to become the thing i am to you,
and you won't tear it apart without a fight, without a heart"
Become You - Indigo Girls
by ForeverPiper » Wed Feb 13, 2002 3:21 am
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Willow! Check you out! Witch-fu. -BUFFY
by Scout » Wed Feb 13, 2002 6:35 am
by Pixie » Wed Feb 13, 2002 8:04 pm
by Sassette » Thu Feb 14, 2002 2:49 pm
Anyway ... this'll be the last update for awhile, I think, as I am going to the Pasadena Xena Convention this weekend, and I have to pack tonight, because I'm a procrastinator. I expect the next update'll be mid next week sometime.
Title: Answering Darkness Part 28 – The Prodigal
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to pink_overalls@yahoo.com
Summary: Tara and Anya arrive at her father’s home.
Spoiler Warning: Up to and including "Tabula Rasa" in Season 6.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm just borrowing them because Season 6 angst is running high, and I want my happy ending now, dammit! So I'm writing it … but it'll be awhile until I get to that part, so bear with me (or "bare" with me if you're naughty).
Rating: PG-13
Notes: For the purpose of this story, all events of Tabula Rasa took place exactly as shown in the series; however, no subsequent episodes will affect this piece. We're splitting from canon here, because this seems the fastest way to get a reconciliation and because I feel this is one of the possible outcomes when taking the "addiction" metaphor into account. So, I should shut the heck up now, and just get to the story, right? Right.
Answering Darkness
Part 28 – The Prodigal
by Sassette
Tara couldn't repress a shudder as she drove past the city limit sign. If she hadn't known it was there, she wouldn't have seen it, so overgrown was the foliage on either side of the narrow two-lane road. The sign itself was the only indication of civilization for a few more miles, until, Tara knew, Main Street sprung up seemingly out of nowhere, with a few stores on either side of the road.
Further back on Main, she knew, the road worsened, until later on still, it was more of a dirt track than a road. A turn to the right and another mile, and there would be the Roberts home.
"So this is it? This is the place?" Anya asked, looking around curiously at the trees all around. "It's pretty," she said optimistically.
"Yes, it is," Tara agreed, nodding slightly. A rusted Ford rattled past them going the other way, the driver levelling a suspicious glance at the unfamiliar car.
"Mm ... friendly," Anya said, her tone heavy with sarcasm.
"They don't like strangers much," Tara affirmed.
"But you're not a stranger," Anya said. "You grew up here."
"No, I'm worse than a stranger," Tara said quietly. "I'm one of the Demon MaClays."
"Demon my ass," Anya said, snorting indelicately. "These people obviously need an education on all things demonic. What kind of idiot thinks you're a demon?"
"The supersitious kind," Tara said with a shrug. "I don't blame them, you know. They don't know any better. They were raised to believe it their whole lives."
The trees fell away, and there was Main Street. Tara shifted in her seat uncomfortably, her hands gripping and releasing the wheel rythmically.
"There are only three stores," Anya pointed out with a frown. "No wonder they're so cranky and quick to point fingers - they only have three stores!"
"Mmm," Tara said noncomittally as they rolled past the plain wooden buildings. "There," Tara said, pointing down to her left, along a road that intersected Main Street. "The church is right down there. There's only one, and the entire town goes to it. And there," she said, pointing down the other way. "There's the school, kindergarten to eigth grade."
"What about high school?" Anya asked curiously, remembering the bustling energy of Sunnydale High.
"There's a school bus that comes to take the high schoolers down the mountain," Tara said, jerking her thumb behind her. "There aren't enough people up here to have our own high school, so they bus us in."
"Was it a big school?" Anya pressed on as they passed the last of the buildings and headed out the other side of the main area of town.
"Oh, yes," Tara said, nodding. "Kids from a really big area went there. It w-was nice, because lots of people had no idea w-what I was."
"What you father >told< you you were," Anya corrected firmly as the pavement on the road ended, the car bouncing slightly on the dirt track.
"Right," Tara agreed. "But I didn't know that. I w-was always surprised w-when anyone was ... nice to me."
"Of course people are nice to you," Anya said. "It's almost impossible to >not< be nice to you. Even Spike is nice to you."
A crooked smile crossed Tara's face. "Thanks," she said simply, turning at a mailbox that said 'Roberts' in what had once been neat black letters, but were now cracked, peeling, and faded.
The trees blocked the view to the house, but Tara knew it was there, further up and on the left, around a bend in the road. She felt ... really strange being in this town. Something about it just seemed ... so surreal, as if her life before Sunnydale - before Willow - had been a nightmare, the one bright spot the mother she had adored. Now, it was like falling into a familiar nightmare, only knowing, this time, that it was, indeed, just a dream, and that the real world would be calling her back.
"Wow," Anya said, her eyes wide as they turned the corner. The house Tara had grown up in was huge, and Anya's practiced eye could see how beautiful it would be, if it weren't in that horrible state of disrepair. A barn - a real live barn - sat behind the house and off to the right aways, and Anya had a hard time thinking of the Tara she knew growing up out here. No, that wasn't quite right - she could imagine Tara enjoying the peace and solitude, as well as the abundant expanse of nature all around, but she couldn't see her living in, well, squalor.
It was, Anya decided, too bad Tara's father let the place go like this. A newish looking truck sat next to an RV, a line of laundry extending from the front porch to the vehicle.
"It's ... not quite like I remembered," Tara said quietly, bringing the car to a stop.
"Well, it would be gorgeous if it had a coat of paint, the laundry were inside, the weeds were pulled, the grass mowed ..."
"Mom did all those things," Tara interrupted. "And me. We did all that upkeep. The barn is probably spotless. And the fields."
"Ah. I see," Anya said, nodding. And she did. Clearly, Tara's father was waiting around for a woman to look after him.
"I suppose ... I should go in?" Tara said uncertainly, a pained look crossing her face.
"I'm right behind you," Anya said, pushing her door open. "Or beside you, or in front of you. Whatever you need," she offered.
"Right," Tara said, letting out a shuddering breath and opening her door. She stepped out into the chill air, slamming the door and wrapping her arms around herself. She walked towards the front door, her eyes darting nervously from side to side.
What would they do? Wasn't that what she asked herself every day after school? What would they do to her that day? She had never known - had never been able to predict what kind of mood her father or her brother would be in on any given day. Would they feign happiness at her return? Would they try to make her stay? Would she be met with anger and recriminations? Would they try to make her leave, without her mother's things?
"Tara?" Anya asked uncertainly when the other woman had come to a stop, her eyes wide and staring, her breathing shallow.
"I'm ... I'm okay," Tara said, looking down at the ground and shaking her head. With an effort, she raised her head, her chin high, then dropped her arms to her sides and squared her shoulders, taking one confident step after another until she was up the stairs, on the porch, and standing in front of the door. A steely and determined look entered her eye as she raised a fist to knock. She could do this. Demons and Hell Gods, remember? she told herself. What was one man and an overgrown boy?
She rapped on the door smartly, then lowered her hand, staring straight ahead. The sound of muttering and footsteps met her ears, and the door swung open. Nothing could have prepared her for the first look at her father after two years.
The man she remembered as strong and vital was a pale shadow of his former self. He seemed smaller and stooped, his usual rigid posture bent slightly. He carried himself gingerly, as if afraid he would break. He was thinner - much thinner - and his hair had taken on new streaks of grey. The normal healthy complexion was gone, his skin pale. His face looked haggard, creased with lines she had never seen before.
"Tara?" he breathed, his eyes tearing up as if he couldn't believe the sight before him. His arms came up, and Tara stepped back, a suspicious look on her face. With a sigh, he dropped them, a look of heartbreak on his face. He opened the door, and stepped back, clearing the way. "Umm ... come in, please," he said, his voice raspy.
Tara stepped past him, careful to keep her distance, and Anya followed, a thoughtful frown on her face.
"I ..." he said, his face still shocked. "I can't believe you're here," he finally said, motioning for the two ladies to precede him into the living room. Tara almost lost all of her composure when she stepped into the room, memories of her mother washing over her. She had spent many hours with her mother there, while her father and Donnie settled the animals in the barn for the evening every night.
"Please, have a seat," he said, motioning to the couch and seating himself in the chair. The room still bore her mother's distinctive stamp, the warm inviting colors of the rugs and furniture unchanged. Only the thick layer of dust on everything spoke of her mother's long absense. "I'm ... I'm sorry for the mess," he apologized slowly. "I ... I don't come in here very often."
"I ..." Tara began, suddenly realizing she had no idea what to say to her father. "I came for mother's things," she finally said, just going right for the point of her visit.
Steven Roberts nodded wearily, knowing it was too much to hope that his daughter had come to see him. "It's all in the attic," he said. "I ... I wanted to throw it all out, but I just ... I couldn't," he explained. "I knew ... she wanted you to have them."
"Oh, umm ... this is Anya," Tara said, belatedly introducing the ex-Vengeance demon.
"We met once before," Anya supplied helpfully when Mr. Roberts' eyes fell on her. "In Sunnydale."
He nodded once, remembering the girl - no, woman - sitting on his couch. And his Tara ... she was a woman now, too. Gone was the awkward and stuttering child, and in her place was this poised young woman. What kind of strength had it taken to bring her here, to this place where she had known so much pain?
It was, he realized, a once-in-a-lifetime chance. He had irrevocably damaged his relationship with his daughter - he knew that. Still, he was curious and found himself wanting to know this person better, though he knew he didn't have the right to ask. It was strange, he realized, how clear things were now. The beautiful child his wife had given birth to was no demon, nor had his wife been such a thing. He had let fear and superstition rule him - he had let the pressure of this town dictate his actions, despite knowing deep in his heart that he was wrong.
"I ... I'll help you with her things," he offered suddenly, breaking out of his reverie and focusing once again on the two young women sitting uncomfortably on his couch. "You can take anything you want, of course."
This was, Tara realized, nothing like she had expected. She had expected hurt and anger and ... fear, but this? Looking at her father, she saw a broken man, and in that instant, she realized how much she loved him despite everything. There was no going back, of course - how could one just forget years of abuse? But now, with her life her own, she could feel pity and sorrow for this man who seemed so very different from the one she had known growing up.
He stood, then made his way to the stairs. "I'll bring it all down," he said, not looking back as he left the two stunned young women.
"Well, that was ... weird," Anya said when Tara's father had left the room.
"I ... I have no idea what just happened," Tara said slowly, her jaw slack as she stared at the stairs where her father had disappeared.
"I still think he should be turned into something nasty. Or he should get some bizarre and painful disease," Anya said sourly, sitting back and crossing her arms, glaring at the stairs. "He's ... he did awful things, and he tried to take you out of Sunnydale."
"I ... Good God, who was that man and where's my father?" Tara said in a wondering tone. A heavy banging sound and a muffled curse drifted down the stairs, followed by the slow thud of heavy, careful footsteps.
Mr. Roberts appeared again in the stairwell, a chest in his arms as he carefully navigated the stairs.
"Do ... do you need help with that?" Tara asked uncertainly.
"No, I've got it," he said, making it to the bottom of the stairs and setting the chest down carefully. "There's one more just like it, and that should be all her things. Here," he said, approaching Tara carefully, as if approaching a wild animal he expected to bolt at any moment. Slowly, he extended a hand. "It's the key," he said, placing the key in the hand Tara automatically raised in a defensive gesture, gently closing her fingers over it.
For a moment, their eyes locked, and Tara was caught up in the profound sadness there.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"No," he said, stepping back and shaking his head, biting down on his lower lip, his voice thick with emotion. "Don't thank me. I've never given you anything to thank me for. I've never given you anything," he said, continuing to back away. "Not even my name," he said, his voice choked with bitterness and regret. He turned quickly, moving up the stairs, his shoulders stiff with tension.
"Should I leave you two alone?" Anya whispered. "Is this the part where I'm supposed to be supportive by not being here?"
"I think ... I think that would be best," Tara said slowly, staring after her father.
Anya nodded. "You scream like a girl if you need me," she said, moving to the trunk and starting to drag it down the hall to the door, grunting with the effort. "I mean, you ARE a girl," she said inbetween pulls, "so of course you'd scream like one. But I mean one of those really high-pitched ones that could wake the dead. I don't want to not hear you."
Tara nodded numbly, wondering what kind of bizarre alternate universe she had stumbled into. Was her father ... actually ... sorry? Her brow knit with confusion. She wasn't prepared for this. She hadn't planned for this. She had no idea how to react to this.
She heard the front door open, and the dragging sound of the trunk moving onto the porch, then the Thud Thud Thud as it fell down the stairs. She certainly hoped there wasn't anything breakable in it. Then the heavy and careful footsteps sounded, and her father was walking down the stairs, and she still had no idea what to say.
Tara's father set the trunk down, looking over at his daughter, seeing the obvious confusion on her face.
"I think ... I think I owe you an explanation," he said slowly. "And an apology, if you'd be willing to hear it."
"I ... umm ... yeah, I'm a little confused here," Tara confessed. "Last time I saw you, you were ..."
"Trying to ruin your life?" he asked, his voice heavy with bitterness. "I ... I can't really explain or justify why I treated you the way I did. I don't ... I don't even really understand it myself," he said, his eyes staring blindly at the wall, his voice thoughtful and reflective, as if he were saying whatever popped into his mind. "But I know I was wrong," he went on, obvious tears welling up in his eyes. "And I know that nothing I can ever say or do can take back what I did. But I just want to say," he said, turning his eyes to Tara, "that you're my daughter and I love you. I've always loved you, and you did nothing to deserve a father like me."
"I ... I don't know ... I can't ..." Tara began, tears filling her own eyes. How long had she waited to hear those words from her father? How long had she hoped and dreamed that he would say them, and mean them, only to hear them now long after she had given up on that dream ever coming true?
"I'm an old man," he said. "Your brother is going to inherit this farm, and I'm going to be buried on the family plot. I've lived here all my life and I'm going to die here. This is all I've ever known or understood. You," he went on, "you've always been something that ... didn't fit in here. Not because you're bad, or a demon, or anything like that, but because you have something in you that's ... too wonderful to die here. Your mother had it, and you have it, and Donnie and I don't. We'll never ... we'll never know anything but this town, and somehow, I didn't realize that you needed to know more. Maybe the world needs you to know more."
"Daddy?" Tara asked, her voice small and her eyes wide.
"Yeah, baby girl?" he asked, moving to kneel in front of his daughter, hesitantly taking her hands in her own.
"Why?" she asked simply. "Why did you do those things?"
He bowed his head, sobs shaking his frame. "Tara, I -" he spoke haltingly. "I was so afraid of your mother, and you. That you two were something beyond my control ... beyond my experience ... beyond me ... it scared me. It scared me so bad that I never stopped and thought about ... about what I was doing to you two. I loved you both so much, and I - I never wanted to ... to hurt you."
"But you did," Tara said, her face settling into the hard lines of anger. "You made my life a living Hell," she went on relentlessly, anger clear in every word.
"I know, I know," he said, nodding helplessly, his eyes closing tight. "I know what I did to you, and I have to live with that every day for the rest of my life. And still, it isn't enough of a punishment. That pain, as much as it hurts, isn't enough for what I did. And I know I don't deserve forgiveness, but I you deserve to know that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"You're sorry?" Tara asked incredulously, gripping his hands painfully. "You're sorry that you beat me? That you let me believe I was evil and destined to hurt people?"
"Yes," he said, raising her head and looking her in the eye. "I know that's not good enough. I know nothing can ever be good enough. I'm not asking for anything here, because I lost any right to ask anything of you a long, long time ago. I just ... I just need you to know that ... that I was wrong. And that I'm sorry. And that I'm ... I'm so proud of the woman you've become, despite me."
"What do you know about the woman I've become?" Tara asked bitterly, standing up and walking away.
"I ... I've been getting copies of your grades. I've even spoken with some of your professors. They all talk about what a joy you are. How smart and eager to learn," he explained. "I know ... I know I shouldn't have done it ... that you're an adult and it's none of my business. But I had to know - I had to know what kind of person you had become."
"Why? Why were you checking up on me? So you could figure out the best time to try to drag me back home?" she asked.
"No!" he said quickly, his eyes wide with panic. "Absolutely not! I don't want you here," he said, flinching at the look of hurt that flashed in Tara's eyes that she couldn't hide quickly enough. "Not like that," he said hurriedly. "Donnie still ... he still thinks of you as a demon. He ... I'm sorry, Tara. I'm so sorry. He hates you. So, no, I don't want you here. I don't want you anywhere near him," her father explained. "I want you to live your life and be happy, and I hope you can forget about this place and everyone in it and all the bad things that happened here."
"I'd rather remember," Tara said hollowly, her eyes sad as a vision of Willow flashed in front of her mind's eye.
"I was checking on you because I ... I just wanted to know something about my daughter," he said sadly. "I'll, umm ... I'll carry this trunk to your car, so you can be on your way."
"I ... thank you," Tara said, her gaze finding her father's face as he nodded grimly. He made it to the door before he stopped and stood.
"I would ... I would like to hear about ... your life in Sunnydale," he said softly. "You're more than welcome to stay for lunch, if you would like."
Before Tara could respond, he walked out the door.
Tara blinked slowly, completely flummoxed, as her father carried her mother's trunk out the door. Stay? For lunch? In this crazed Twilight Zone place where everything she had ever believed about her father was turned completely upside down?
Without her permission, her mind turned to a time long ago, before she had understood what people believed she would become. Her father had ... it had been her birthday, she believed. Maybe not. Maybe it was just a regular day, but it had been ... fun. Her father had started teaching her to ride a horse, and she had been a natural. She remembered his beaming smiling face. She didn't even remember how old she'd been at the time - just that he had been proud of her and her accomplishments. And when she had finally fallen off, as it was inevitable that she did, he had scooped her up in his arms and cradled her as she cried, carrying her into the house and to her mother, who had given her ice cream.
A sad, wistful smile crossed her face at the memory. Did she have a chance of regaining some of that, or was it a trick? Was she ready to remember the good times and let some of her bewilderment and anger go?
A wry look crossed her face and she smirked. Was her father ready to hear what her life was like? What is was >really< like - Hellmouth and girlfriend and all?
"Tara?" Anya called, walking into the room and dusting off her hands. "He's settling the stuff in the trunk," she said. "He, uhh ... we're invited for lunch," she said with forced brightness. "Do you ... you don't want to stay, right?"
"I think ... I just might," Tara said. "I mean ... so far it's been ... okay, right?"
"Sure," Anya agreed. "If some kind of freaky doppleganger took over your father trying to keep us to stay so he can kill us is okay."
"What?" Tara asked incredulously.
"Sorry. Living on the Hellmouth makes me look for the scary and demonic explanation first," Anya said, her expression as close to 'sheepish' as Tara had ever seen. "You really want to stay?" she asked seriously.
"Would that be okay with you?" Tara asked carefully.
"This is your deal," Anya said, putting the ball back firmly in Tara's court. "I'm the moral support, so I will support you in whatever you choose."
"Right," Tara said absently, lost in thought. She snapped back to the present when her father walked in, a look of despairing hope on his face, as if he were a puppy who had been kicked once too often but was hoping from a kind word and a pat from his master.
Tara was torn. How many times had she approached her father with the same look on her face? He didn't deserve anything from her. He didn't deserve her consideration or her time, but only her anger and, at best, indifference.
"So what's for lunch?" she asked, a small smile spreading across her face as her father's expression lit up.
"Umm ... just sandwiches, if that's okay," he said, moving eagerly to the kitchen. "I have turkey, ham, and roast beef."
She wasn't, Tara realized, her father. She couldn't do to him what he had done to her. Hadn't she always dreamed of having a good relationship with her father? She had. And though that dream had gotten lost as the dream of a child as she moved to womanhood, something about it still resonated within her. She wasn't sure if she'd ever forgive herself for missing this chance to find out if her father really was sorry if she just left now.
"Roast beef, please," Anya said politely.
"Great," he called from the kitchen. "And you, Tara?" he asked, poking his head around the doorway.
"Turkey," she said.
"Go on and have a seat at the table, girls. We're going to rough it with paper plates, if that's okay?"
"Just fine," Tara called, a little warm spot in her heart growing as she listened to her father humming as he made her a sandwich. It was a simple, little thing, really - a sandwich. But Tara could remember countless times she had prepared a meal for her father, and not once could she remember him doing the same for her. It was ... kind of nice.
"It has to be a doppleganger," Anya muttered under her breath, remembering the man she had met in Sunnydale those years ago.
"Did you say something?" Tara asked, looking over at Anya.
"No, nothing," Anya said innocently, keeping a wary eye on the kitchen in case Tara's father burst out with a bone saw to open up their skulls so he could get at their brains. She knew of several shape-shifting demons who ate brains.
He walked out of the kitchen, juggling plates and napkins, placing the sandwiches in front of the girls. "Oh, drinks!" he said, realizing his omission. "Soda? Juice? Water?" he asked.
"Juice, please," Tara said.
"Yes, juice will be fine," Anya seconded.
"Okay," he said, leaving the room to get the drinks.
"Okay, this really is weird," Tara confessed.
"Yeah. Not what I expected," Anya agreed.
"Yeah. If we were still in Sunnydale, I'd be thinking 'brain-eating doppleganger' right now," Tara said, looking at her sandwich. "But that's ... it's really him. It's - God, it's amazing," she said, a hint of wonder in her voice.
"Yeah, well, don't count out the 'brain-eating doppleganger' thing," Anya said. "You'd be surprised what goes on in these small little towns.
"Here you go, girls," he said, setting down the glasses of apple juice. They ate in silence for a few moments, before Tara's father began tentatively asking her about her life in Sunnydale.
Tara was unsure what to tell him. Hellmouth? Scooby Gang? Slayer? Witchcraft? Finally, she settled on the safe topics, talking about school and her friends. Anya spoke about her shop, and Tara talked about Dawn. Anya spoke about Xander, then Tara haltingly began to speak of Willow, glossing over the reason for their recent break-up.
Mr. Roberts listened to this all in silence, only occasionally making a noise to indicate he was paying attention and interested, afraid to break the narrative flow between the two girls and cast them back into silence.
The sandwiches disappeared, and the juice polished off too, and Mr. Roberts had a firm picture in his mind of Tara's life in Sunnydale. There were her classes, where she did very well, ensuring her continued scholarship. Anya, her forthright and blunt friend who offered her a unique take on any situation. Xander, big and funny and loyal to a fault. Buffy, who like Tara, had lost her mother all too soon, and Dawn, who was young and confused and who Tara loved dearly. And Willow. He wasn't sure what to think of that. The church had always told him such things were wrong. The same church, though, had told him his wife and daughter were demons, so could he really believe everything they said? Didn't he need to look into his own heart and find his own truth? If he had only done that years earlier, things might be so different now.
"It sounds like you have a good life," he finally said when the conversation wound to a halt. "I'm ... I'm very happy for you," he said, standing up when Tara and Anya stood.
"We should really go," Tara said, a slight tint of regret in her voice that warmed him.
"I ... I would like it very much if you would ... keep in touch," he said hesitantly. "Call ... or write, if you'd like. I'd love to know what's happening with you."
"I... I'll ..." Tara began, suddenly unsure.
"Just think about it," he said, ushering the girls to the door.
"I will," Tara said, lagging behind as Anya made her way to the car. "Daddy?" she finally said, turning back to look at the man she wished had raised her, who was so different from the man she had known.
"Yes, Tara?"
"I love you," she said quietly.
"I love you, too," he said, blinking back tears, seeing her mother so clearly in her face and manner. "You're so much like your mother, it takes my breath away," he said. "I'm so glad you're like her, and not like me," he finished. Tara simply nodded and walked to the car, listening as the door closed behind her.
"Wow," Anya said, repeating her first impression of the house as Tara got in the car.
"Yeah, wow," she said, slipping the keys into the ignition.
The sound of squealing tires made her pause, and she glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing a truck barrel into view, stopping mere inches from her bumper. She froze as Donnie stepped from the truck.
"Hey Dad!" he yelled, looking curiously at the car, unable to identify its occupants. "Dad!" he called out again, slamming the truck door and approaching the car. "Tara?" he blurted, his jaw dropping as he recognized his sister.
Too fast for Tara to process what was happening, Donnie flung the door open, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her from the car. Anya tried to make a grab for Tara's waist, to keep her in the vehicle, but missed.
"You bitch," he yelled, throwing her to the ground.
"You leave her alone!" Anya yelled, throwing open the door and making her way around the car.
Tara was stunned. This was what she had been expecting here - this anger and hatred ... and violence. But lunch with her father had lulled her into a sense of security, and she was no longer prepared for Donnie's aggression, so she did what she had always done. Instinctively, she curled into a ball and flinched away from Donnie as he kicked at her.
"You left, you whore! You left!" he accused, reaching down to pick her up again, even as Anya landed on his back, fists flailing. He tossed off the enraged woman, picking up Tara and shaking her hard. "After everything we did for you, you left. We helped you," he screamed, slapping her across the face. "We kept the demon from hurting people," he continued shaking her as Anya got unsteadily to her feet. None of them heard the sound of the door opening and closing.
A gunshot went off and they all froze, turning to see Tara's father on the porch, a rifle perched against his shoulder and aimed their way, having made his point with his warning shot.
"Step away from your sister, Donnie," he said firmly, his voice carrying over the distance.
"What?" Donnie asked incredulously.
"You heard me. Step away from her, and do it now," he restated.
"Y-yes, sir," Donnie said, an angry look on his face as he roughly pushed his sister away and stepped back.
"Now move your damn truck out of the way," he went on as Anya rushed to Tara's side, brushing the dirt off of her.
"You okay?" Anya asked in an undertone.
Tara nodded, watching the unfolding scene with interest.
Donnie scowled, but obeyed, getting in his truck and slamming the door. He moved it out of the way, staying in the driver's seat with the engine running.
"Turn the engine off and get out," Tara's father said as he continued to aim the rifle at his son. With a string of expletives that made Tara blush, Donnie cut the engine, climbing out of the truck.
"I hope you're happy, you bitch," he said, a look of unspeakable hatred on his face.
Tara nodded wearily, climbing into Spikes car and turning on the engine. She threw it into gear as Anya hopped in, then quickly got the car turned around and sped off down the road, away from the hatred as fast as she dared go.
"Now >that< is what I was expecting," Anya said brightly. "Except for the gun part. I didn't expect guns."
"Small town in the mountains and you didn't expect guns?" Tara asked wryly, her relief at her father's assistance washing over her as they drove down Main Street passed the three stores that had so incensed Anya just a few hours before.
A brittle laugh escaped from Tara, and Anya looked at her strangely for a moment.
"Are you all right?" she asked, her brow furrowed.
"All right? Oh, yeah, y'know ... I'm so used to getting pushed around and kicked by demons, having my own brother do it is no big deal," she said, another sharp laugh escaping.
"Maybe we should pull over," Anya suggested quietly, watching as Tara's hands began shaking.
"I ... I think you're right," she said, pulling to the shoulder, suddenly feeling cold and trembly as she sat there.
"Should I drive?" Anya asked.
"You can drive?" Tara asked incredulously, looking over at Anya. "You could drive this whole time and you didn't take a turn?"
"Well, how hard could it be?" Anya asked seriously.
Tara laughed, doubling over and resting her head against the steering wheel as Anya watched her warily. Anya's fears were confirmed when Tara broke down into harsh sobs, clutching the wheel tightly in a death grip.
"Tara, breathe," Anya demanded as Tara continued to weep. "Please, breathe," she begged. "You need to calm down." She continued uttering soothing nonsense, trying to contain her panic, as Tara cried herself out, the high-running emotions of the day taking their toll.
"I'm ... I'm okay now," Tara finally said, feeling drained and tired.
"That's as may be, but we're stopping at the first motel we see. You shouldn't drive like this, and if we weren't stuck in a small town in the mountains with guns, I wouldn't let you drive at all."
Tara nodded wearily, starting the car again and pulling onto the road. They drove in silence down the mountain, Anya lost in thoughts of worry about Tara and Tara thinking about the strange events of the day.
She should be grateful, shouldn't she? That she had only received that reaction from Donnie, and that her father had actually stood up for her? It was certainly more than she had expected, but it was, if she was being honest with herself, less than she had hoped.
Still, she had her mother's things, and that's what she had gone for. And while she wasn't sure if she could handle staying in touch with her father, the option was there where it hadn't been before.
Lost in her thoughts, Tara almost missed the motel Anya pointed out. In something of a daze, she turned in, following Anya as she took care of securing the room.
"... or take them in?" Anya asked, only to have Tara do a double-take.
"Did you say something?" she asked, finally returning to the present.
"I asked if you wanted to take these very heavy objects into the room or leave them here in the trunk?" Anya repeated herself.
"We should take them in. Sorry," Tara said, sympathizing with Anya not wanting to carry them into the room. They certainly looked heavy. "I don't want to risk them being stolen, and I'd like a chance to look through them a little and see what's in there."
Anya nodded, resigned to her fate. Somehow, she had known Tara was going to say that, and though she had many reasonable arguments for leaving the trunks, she really didn't want to have an argument with Tara right now. Poor girl looked like she could be knocked over with a feather.
Faster than they had suspected, they got settled into the room, the trunks on the floor at the foot of the bed. Tara regarded the key her father had given her for a moment before unlocking the first one and opening it.
A sketchbook was lying on top, and Tara's jaw dropped when she saw it, recognizing it immediately.
"Oh my God," she said, lifting it out and holding it, afraid to open it. "I had no idea ... I thought this was gone."
"What is it?" Anya asked, peering over Tara's shoulder.
"It's ... it's nothing," Tara said flatly, putting it back and shutting the trunk. "Just something I had thrown out when my mother passed away. I didn't know dad had kept it."
"But ..." Anya protested.
"It's nothing," Tara insisted.
"Tara," Anya said as if speaking to a small child. "If you don't let me see what's in that book, I'm going to have to hurt you."
"It's private," Tara shot back.
"And it's not like I'm going to go blabbing whatever it is around," Anya said. "So share with the girl who carried the damn things, okay?"
With a resigned sigh, Tara opened the trunk, slipping out the sketchbook and handing it to Anya, who flipped open the cover eagerly.
She looked at the first page for a moment, then turned it. Then turned the next and the next.
"These are ... these are all pictures of Willow," Anya said, pointing out the obvious. "I mean, they're really >good< pictures, but I don't know why you're so upset."
"I -"
"Wait ... did you draw these?" Anya asked, turning back to the first one. "Because ... these are really >really< good." And they were. It was all there - every facet that made Willow's face so interesting. Not that she found Willow's face interesting, no - oh, Hell - who was she kidding? She was human. Now, at least. She knew an interesting face when she saw one, and Willow definitely had one. Another thought struck her. "How come I didn't know you were so artistic and talented? Why was I the last to know? We're supposed to be friends, and friends share, and I didn't know," Anya whined.
"I - you're the first to know," Tara confessed. "I haven't ... I haven't drawn anything since my mother passed away. I threw out all my art supplies, but ... it looks like dad kept them."
"Wait a minute. Didn't your mom pass over when you were seventeen?" Anya asked carefully.
"Yes," Tara confirmed.
"And you >met< Willow when you were ... 18? 19?" Anya pressed on, having identified two and two and on the verge of getting four.
"Yes," Tara said again.
"You know what this means, don't you?" Anya asked, a wicked little 'I told you so' smile on her face. "You have to get 'Fate Was Here' tattooed on your ass."
by BytrSuite » Thu Feb 14, 2002 5:40 pm
Also [drool]. The Pasadena Convention? Wow. Have fun!
by Shaniezak » Thu Feb 14, 2002 6:25 pm
by katydid » Thu Feb 14, 2002 6:30 pm
------------------
"She practically has 'genuine molded plastic' stamped on her ass.
by Sassette » Thu Feb 14, 2002 6:58 pm
But seriously ... the dad thing surprised me ... I was expecting something a little more confrontational.
And the next bit is rattling around in my head and bugging me ... if I have time, I'll get it out tonight or tomorrow morning before I take off for the con.
And Shanie - I'll definitely drop you an email or IM w/my cell number. I should be there by Friday afternoon.
-Sass
by Pixie » Thu Feb 14, 2002 7:12 pm
Have a great weekend, and I'll try to find something to keep me occupied until the next update!
by ForeverPiper » Thu Feb 14, 2002 8:26 pm
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