Title: Coming Back
Author: GayNow (Carleen)
Email: cmspry2@gmail.comFeedback: Pretty please?
Distribution: Archiving is fine…please let me know where so I can call all my friends and yell, “Look! I’m famous!”
Rating: I’ve moved the rating up to R for language and situations
Disclaimer: BtVS characters, concepts and dialog belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, The WB, UPN and others. The story, however, came out of my delusional little brain.
Summary: AU....no Hellmouth...no magic....no demons...no slayer....Willow and Tara made a solemn promise to each other 8 years ago.
Author’s Notes:- This fic was inspired by my own fic challenge (Third Time's a Charm). But...well...it sort of took on a life of its own. So, I decided to give it its own thread. I'm nice that way.
- This is my first attempt at fic writing...or posting what I've written, anyway. And I have all of you wonderful kittens to thank for inspiring me. I'm not going to start listing off all of the individual authors, because that would just take too long. You know who you are...you've read my feedback...it's no secret who I worship.
- I have to give special, super-dee-duper thanks to the lovely WATSON for so many things -- for putting up with me...for painstakingly reading chapters and sections and paragraphs and sentences...for dealing with me obsessing over j-u-u-u-u-u-u-st the right word...for serving as co-writer in many many, many instances (if it's a REALLY good sentence or phrase...it's probably hers)...for simply being a friend and encouraging me (Okay...encouraging? She was kicking me in the ass is what she was doing!)
- Thoughts in italics
- Thanks to Chris Cook for the super spectacular title graphic!
Additional thanks to
AntigoneUnbound for her help on this chapter. Thanks, Mary! [br]
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13b (in two posts)
"NO! WILLOW!"
Tara snapped awake, her body jerking up from the bed. Her breathing was labored; she couldn't get enough air, and what little she did take in, didn't want to leave her body.
Closing in. All closing in. The voices were still there...acerbic...derisive...hurtful.
Shut up! Go away! She could feel her hair plastered to parts of her face and neck, the sweat dripping down her skin serving as a strong adhesive.
Closing in. Tara wanted to rip the clothes from her body, the damp material clinging to her, constricting her.
She was trapped.
She couldn't move.
"Can't breathe," she gasped as she worked desperately to free herself.
The sheets and blanket had wound their way around Tara's legs and torso in the night, capturing her limbs and holding them fast. Tara kicked her legs violently as she tore at the bindings.
"Get off...off...off," her mutterings became more frantic. "God dammit...off!" Finally free of the material, Tara swallowed large gulps of air, as much as would fit her lungs.
The voices continued...offensive...incessant...pervasive.
"Be...quiet! Leave me...alone!" She hissed at the emptiness around her, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Knowing she was on the verge of hyperventilating, she closed her eyes and tried to calm herself.
Breathe...in, out...in, out. You're okay. It was a nightmare...not real.Tara opened her eyes to the cold darkness. She could make out the smallest sliver of light from the streetlamp as it fought its way through the curtains.
Still there were the voices...sneering...harsh...spiteful.
"Go away!" Tara reached out toward that bit of light; it was her only ally, staunchly beating at the menacing blackness of the room.
"Closing in," she whispered to her elusive friend. "More light."
She turned quickly, fumbling for the lamp on the bedside table. Her hands reached out, haphazardly seeking the one thing that would stop the darkness from completely taking over.
"Where?" Tara could feel the panic clutching at her again. "Light...light...where the hell is it?"
She didn't notice the impact until she heard the crash. The sound startled her, but it didn't keep her from her objective. When the room was finally bathed in light, Tara began to breathe again. Slowly, the voices that had continued to taunt her faded away.
Keep going, you bastards.Tara felt the panic leave her, as if it were chasing after the vanishing darkness. She was splayed across the bed, her body fully extended in its quest for light. She dropped her hands from the lamp and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "Thank god."
Peering over the side of the bed, Tara searched out the source of the crash. The frame holding Willow's photo lay picture side down on the taupe Berber. Tara held her breath as she picked up the treasured object, hoping fervently that the frame had not been damaged. The structure of the wood felt sturdy in her hands and she released a relieved sigh.
It's okay.Upon turning the frame over, Tara's eyes went wide with shock and despair; tears slowly trickled down her cheek. The glass held within the frame was cracked in two places, forming a crooked 'T' across the picture. The largest crack ran diagonally from the upper left corner of the frame to the lower right. It sliced through the picture making its way across Willow's image from her ear, across her chin, and on through her shoulder. The fissure continued its slanted path through Buffy's torso. The second, smaller fracture branched off, nearly perpendicular to the first, cutting through Willow's body.
What was once a 4" by 6" pane of glass was now three sharp-edged pieces. Had Tara not adhered small bits of 'frame space' to the glass, lifting it away from the photo, the edges of the broken glass would have surely harmed the picture. As it was, the cracks in the glass distorted Willow's features...but it was enough. Harm was done.
Tara choked back a sob when she saw the damage and immediately -- frantically -- began to fit the pieces of glass back together. Once they were properly aligned, and Willow's smile no longer appeared to be split in two, Tara placed her index finger over the juncture, holding the pieces in place. With her other hand, Tara grasped the frame firmly, ensuring its safety. She gazed down at Willow's smile and felt her heart skip a beat...and then another.
"My Willow."
Tara's eyes moved down to her index finger and she slowly, carefully removed the digit from the glass. An unpleasant shiver ran through her body. The intersecting point of the two cracks was directly over Willow's heart.
"Oh, God," Tara whispered as fresh tears sliced down her face. "Broken."
She brought her finger back to the cracked glass and ran it over Willow's heart, as if trying to mend the wound. "Broken." Tara placed the frame on the bed and increased the pressure of her finger as she continued to press against the crack. "Heal...please...heal." The insistent force on the interstice became too much of a strain; the larger section of glass broke in two.
"No!" Tara quickly removed her finger from the glass. Her hand shook as it dangled inches away from the smiling image in the frame. Her stertorous breathing was the only sound in the room. It was deafening.
Her gaze left the photo and she stared at her hand.
You broke her. Tara's brow furrowed and she tilted her head to one side as she watched a drop of blood fall from her finger.
I broke her. The new rift in the small pane had cut her finger; yet she felt no physical pain. She continued to stare as another droplet of blood formed in the cut.
I broke me. The liquid seemed to move in slow motion as she watched it leave her finger and tumble through the air. It splashed down, landing directly on the glass. Tara continued to watch as the crimson fluid spattered Willow's image.
Red...not right...wrong red...wrong...all wrong. She wiped at the puddle with the back of her hand. "Wrong."
She wiped again.
"Wrong."
She wiped again.
"Wrong."
The once tiny pool of blood was now a smeared red streak on the glass. Tara was about to wipe again, but she saw a new drop of blood fall from her hand; this time the blood came from a small cut on the side of her palm. Her trembling increased as she watched the fluid slowly flow toward the separation in the glass.
Oh no. Tara grabbed the edge of her t-shirt to soak up the blood before it could seep through the crack and reach the photo underneath.
"Stay away," she ordered, her voice barely above a whisper. She stared at the frame for a moment before flipping it over and fumbling with the small latches on the back. She was hearing voices again...repeatedly calling her name. Tara ignored them and tried to focus on her task.
"Out...get it out...have to save Willow."
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"Tara! Please, look at me!"
Tara looked up to find concerned hazel eyes gazing back at her. "B-Buffy?" Her eyes were wide with fright and confusion.
"It's me, Tara," Buffy assured, "You're okay. Everything is okay."
In truth, Buffy wasn't sure if everything was really okay. Just a few minutes earlier, she had been sleeping peacefully -- visions of mock-ups doing a two-dimensional tap dance to "I'm Every Woman" highlighting her slumber. The jovial routine was interrupted by the cry of a pained voice. Still partly asleep, she tried to identify the muffled sounds coming from beyond her bedroom walls. She heard faint shuffling noises and an occasional quiet exclamation, but she simply couldn't place the sounds.
Just as Buffy was about to curl up under the covers once again, she heard the distinct sound of an object crashing to the floor and breaking. Moments later she could make out the sounds of sobbing and frantic movement. Buffy jumped from her bed and quickly made her way to the hallway.
That's coming from Tara's room. Moving quickly toward the spare bedroom, Buffy listened intently for anything that would let her know what was happening. All she could ascertain was that Tara was in some sort of pain. She reached the room and rapped quickly on the door.
"Tara?"
Placing her ear to the door, Buffy could now hear Tara's voice. She knocked again.
"Tara...are you okay?"
There was silence for a few moments. Everything was still.
"Tara."
Buffy grasped the doorknob and slowly pushed the door open.
"Wrong."
The sound of Tara's voice --
such pain -- steeled Buffy's resolved and she entered the room fully. The sight before her halted her movements and she stared at the scene. Tara sat on the bed, tears streaming down her face; she was running the back of one hand over an object, repeatedly mumbling "wrong" with each swipe.
Buffy felt as if her heart were in her throat. She tried to swallow it down so it would return to its proper place, but she couldn't move. Seeing Tara's suffering kept Buffy frozen in place.
Tara too...what has this done to them? Buffy felt a tear travel down her cheek; she didn't bother to brush it away. In that moment, the pain she felt a year earlier when she saw Willow's anguish returned to her in force. The increased intensity of Tara's voice, and her frantic movements, brought Buffy out of her dazed state. "...have to save Willow." Buffy rushed to Tara's side and grabbed her hands, pulling them away from the blood-streaked glass. The contact seemed to reach Tara. Encouraged, Buffy implored the stricken woman to look at her.
Tara was still disoriented, but seeing Buffy there -- actually seeing Buffy and feeling the small blonde's hands grasping her own -- made the lingering haze recede. "Buffy, help me, please." Tara held out the frame to her friend with the hand that wasn't bleeding. "I broke her...and...I...can't...bleeding... can't...get the picture out...to save her. Will you do it?"
The look in Tara's eyes nearly broke Buffy's heart. The two had formed a good friendship via email -- particularly during the last year -- but Tara's correspondence had never hinted at this kind of torment. Buffy gently pushed back the hair that was obscuring the distraught woman's features. Lightly stroking Tara's hair, she gave her friend a comforting smile. "Of course, I'll help, Tara. Don't worry."
She made short work of removing the backing of the frame and extracting the picture from its place. Buffy gingerly removed the broken glass and deposited it in a nearby trashcan. "I'm going to put the picture right over here on the table, okay? It's fine...as good as the day you got it." Buffy turned the frame over in her hands and briefly studied it. "This is really beautiful, Tara. The colors are so...familiar."
"It's...Willow."
Buffy looked up quickly to see Tara gazing at the frame. For the first time since entering the room, Buffy saw Tara's features soften; her eyes were no longer clouded and her lips formed a subtle smile. "Tara? What do you mean?"
"It's Willow," Tara explained, her eyes never leaving the frame. "The colors...her hair...eyes. It took me weeks to get it just right." She reached out with her uninjured hand and carefully caressed the wood. "I finally did, though. I wrote down the mixture levels and saved the paints. I only used them on special things."
"And I guess Willow qualifies as special." Buffy smiled as she leaned over to place the frame next to the picture on the table, happy to see Tara calming down.
"She is."
Buffy turned back to her friend to see the pain return to Tara's eyes; new tears were forming. "Tara...what is it?" She took Tara's hands in her own, offering the woman what comfort she could. "What's got you so upset?"
Tara closed her eyes and shook her head vigorously, a lock of damp hair whipped across her face and stuck to her skin. "I'm fine. It's stupid...just...just a bad dream. I'm fine." She removed her hands from Buffy's grasp and wrapped her arms around her knees.
Buffy watched Tara close in on herself and knew her friend was lying. She could feel Tara's pain rolling off her in waves. Glancing down at her own hands as she thought of what to say next, Buffy noticed a small smudge of red on her palm. The sight reminded her that Tara needed some minor physical mending -- the emotional patching up could wait a bit. She rested her hand gently on Tara's forearm.
"Tara?" She waiting until the blue eyes looked up. "C'mon...you've cut yourself. Let's go clean those up. I've got a couple band aids."
Tara glanced down at the drying blood on her hand.
Wrong red, she thought and wanted nothing more at that moment than to wash away the offending color. Not trusting her own voice, Tara simply nodded.
Buffy got up and stood beside the chair holding the open suitcase in the corner. "Let's get you something else to wear, too...your t-shirt is soaked through."
Again, Tara only nodded.
Buffy waited for Tara to make a move -- any move indicating that she'd heard and understood Buffy's words. No move was made.
Not again. Buffy sighed and mentally steeled herself for what she was about to do...but, she'd give it one more try first.
"Tara? Are you coming?"
No move. No sound.
Didn't think I'd have to do this again. Buffy squared her shoulders and approached the still form on the bed. Firmly grasping Tara's arms and unwrapping them from around her legs, Buffy moved the limbs so that they were resting by Tara's side. She then placed a hand on either side of Tara's face and raised her head until the dull blue eyes were looking directly into fiery hazel. When Tara blinked in confusion, Buffy knew it was time.
"Good," Buffy spoke in a calm, firm voice. "Now that I have your attention...snap out of it! Get off your ass, grab something else to wear, and get into the bathroom so I can clean up those cuts." She released her hold on Tara and leaned away. Her posture and body language made it clear that there would be no argument. That didn't stop Tara from trying.
"Buffy-"
"No, Tara. Get up. Get your things. Get in the bathroom. Now!" With her last word, Buffy's arm snapped forward and she offered her hand to help Tara stand.
No need to be a total bitch. As soon as Tara reached out to take her hand, Buffy pulled the shocked woman into a fierce hug. At first, she felt Tara's body stiffen, but soon she relaxed into Buffy's embrace. Her nightshirt quickly became damp from Tara's tears.
"I'm sorry, Tara," Buffy whispered after a few minutes of holding the crying woman. "I didn't want to be mean. I just couldn't watch another friend become catatonic with grief and guilt." Her voice caught in her throat and she swallowed hard. "Honestly, I don't think I'm strong enough for that."
Tara pulled away from Buffy and used her forearm to wipe the tears from her face. She looked intently at Buffy, her gaze quickly shifting back and forth between clear hazel eyes. "What do you mean, Buffy? Are you okay?"
Willow was right...Tara cares more about others than herself. No wonder Willow loves her."I'm fine, Tara," Buffy assured as she turned around to grab a clean nightshirt for Tara. "Here...why don't you go take a really quick shower and I'll go make us some tea, okay?"
"Buffy, you should go back to bed. I'm so sorry I woke you up." Tara lowered her head. "I...I don't know why my brain got so muddled up...it's been so long..." Her voice hitched a bit as her words trailed off.
Buffy lifted Tara's chin so that she could look into her watery blue eyes. "Just.go.take.a.shower." A warm smile graced her features. "I'll meet you back in here with band aids and some hot tea in a few minutes." She dropped her hand and jerked her head toward the door. "Go on," she gently encouraged, "get a move on."
Tara took the nightshirt from Buffy, clutching it to her chest, and made her way out of the room. Just before reaching the door, Tara stopped and turned to face Buffy.
"Willow was right...you have a very caring heart, Buffy."
"You know," Buffy chuckled, "Willow must get tired of being right all the time. I was thinking the same thing a few minutes ago...about you."
Tara bowed her head, her long hair falling forward to cover her features. A moment later, she lifted her hand to move the hair away from her face. She looked at Buffy and smiled.
"I guess Willow just brings out the best in us, huh?"
"Just one of the reasons we love her," Buffy agreed, returning the smile.
"One of many."
Buffy watched Tara turn and leave the room. When she heard the bathroom door close and the shower turn on, Buffy headed downstairs to make the tea she'd promised.
"If those two don't figure this out soon," Buffy mumbled as she trod down the stairs, "I'm gonna have to figure it out for them."
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