by AntigoneUnbound » Wed May 26, 2004 10:21 pm
Hey, Li'l C: Thanks for the good thoughts! Hope you like this next part.
*****
AS TIME GOES BY
Part 4
Summary: Babies, protection spells, ethereal voices from on high…What’s going on here? I want some answers!
Rating: PG for now; racier later after our girls have caught up on their sleep. New parents, help me out here.
Disclaimer: What I said in Part 3 still holds true except that I don’t own Puff’s horses or--heaven knows--her wife. Just wanted to make that clear.
*************
In retrospect, Willow wondered why she’d been surprised. After everything she’d seen; everything she’d been a part of…She’d watched the Mayor turn into a giant snake. Her best friend’s sister had started life as a mystical ball of energy. She herself had once dated a werewolf. And she knew that Giles and Mrs. Summers had…done it. So why in the goddess’ name was she surprised?
*****
Kyra had been with them for ten months. Willow thought at times that her heart would split open with the fierce love she felt for her daughter. It seemed incredible, really, that something so tiny could inspire and embody such vast feeling. The proportions seemed off but Willow--so very precise in matters of geometry and physics--cared not a bit.
She and Tara had definitely wanted to be mothers, but this wasn’t how they’d imagined it. They’d walked into an abandoned warehouse one night expecting nothing more or less than to battle some nasties, and they’d walked out as parents. And now she simply could not conceive of her life without this tiny soul who looked up at her; followed her with alert eyes; gripped her finger as preparing to pull herself up and start walking.
She often worried about her desire to protect Kyra. Would her maternal instincts make her susceptible to her earlier obsession? How could they not? Even the thought of anything threatening her daughter made her blood run hot in her veins. But she resisted the urge to delve back into the protective magicks, mainly because Tara kept close to her on the subject.
“Willow, Sweetie, I know it’s hard not to go there. Goddess, I feel like going there at times, just for a little insurance. But we’re setting ourselves up for a huge fall if we believe that we can control everything that happens to her. We’ll protect her, and we’ll use magic responsibly to do so. I promise you, we’ll navigate this.”
And Willow, who might have expected to feel chastened somehow, instead was relieved to know that she wasn’t the only one who felt the temptation. It made her feel as though Tara needed her, too, to be wise in this regard. The balance, the mutual reliance, felt good.
Their life was taking on a certain pattern and predictability. Further check-ups with Darnuth showed a healthy baby. Their dark-haired child was even-tempered and smiled often. Between the two of them, it was unlikely that Kyra would ever go hungry even if she breast-fed until she was 20 which, Willow realized, was probably a bad idea. And they had made wills in case anything were to happen to them.
Willow, normally so prudent about such things, found herself in the grip of a truly paralyzing superstition. “If we make wills, something might happen to us,” she argued, supremely confident in her logic.
Tara just looked at her, her mouth crooking slightly. “That’s a good point,” she said after a moment. “Because no one ever dies who didn’t intend to. Death never catches anyone by surprise.” She gazed at Willow with an expression of simultaneous affection and subtle insistence.
“Well, I’m glad you see the wisdom of my point,” Willow grumbled, even as she began the search for a lawyer.
They were as cautious as they could be, of course. They never patrolled together, because they wanted to lower the risk that Kyra would be left with only one parent. The discussions about such things had been painful beyond words, but they were also absolutely imperative, Willow realized.
“OK, so if the two of us had sailed on the Titanic and left Kyra with someone--” Willow began.
“Why would we take a trans-Atlantic trip and leave our infant daughter behind?” Tara interrupted, her tone incredulous.
“Well, maybe we just wanted to get away.”
“We could get away with a little overnight to a B&B,” Tara argued. “No way am I climbing on a cruise ship and waving goodbye to our little girl for like, weeks.”
“OK, I’m not suggesting that we book a cruise for this Saturday,” Willow continued, feeling just a wee bit impatient. “Trying to raise a rhetorical issue here.”
“Sorry,” Tara mumbled. “I just got all riled up picturing it.”
“I can see that,” Willow replied slowly. “Anyway---we’re on the ship and it starts to go down. There’s a chance for one of us to be saved, but not both. Do we stay with each other to the very end--or do we make sure that one of us survives?”
“Oh goddess,” Tara said in a small voice. “Could you maybe throw Old Yeller on the boat too, just to make it more excruciating?”
“But what would we do?” Willow persisted. “What would you do?”
Tara looked at her, blue eyes pained. Finally, she replied, “I’d push you into a life-boat and make sure you got back to our girl.”
Willow gazed back at her beloved, feeling tears sting her own eyes. “No you wouldn’t, because I’d be pushing you.”
Tara managed a smile. “Great…Can’t you just see us? We’re both fighting to get the other one in the life boat and meanwhile the ship sinks with us locked in mortal combat, each trying to fling the other to safety.”
Willow gave a tiny grin in response. “Well, at least we’d die in each other’s arms.” Brushing away her tears, she added, “But you get the point, right? As much as we want to be together for the rest of our lives; as much as we want our lives to run neck-and-neck to the finish line…We have another person to think about now. And whatever else, we don’t leave her alone.”
“Agreed,” Tara whispered, pulling Willow close to her. Willow could hear the beloved heartbeat thrumming softly against her ear. How could she ever live in a world that didn’t have this sound? If she had to, could she raise a child by herself? Unconsciously, she gripped Tara more tightly to her.
Finally, Tara pulled back just slightly, enough to cup Willow’s face in her hands and look steadily into her eyes. After a moment, she leaned forward and slowly kissed her cheeks, warm lips gently brushing away the remaining tears. Her thumbs trailed in their wake, stroking Willow’s face with infinite tenderness.
“I love you, Willow Rosenberg,” she breathed.
When Willow finally found her voice, she said, “Let’s make sure all of this stays rhetorical, OK? Promise?” And she knew she couldn’t really ask for such a thing, anymore than Tara could really give it. But she still felt calmed when Tara rested her lips lightly against her ear and whispered, “I promise.”
One of the other more difficult discussions involved selecting godparents. Buffy knew that they had been drafting their wills, and she broached the subject with them one night after dinner.
“Listen, guys. I know that part of this whole thing is figuring out who looks after Kyra if anything happens to you. Now--as your friendly neighborhood Slayer, it’s my intention that nothing happens to you. That’s Plan A, right?”
Willow and Tara nodded in unison. This is my best friend, Willow thought. And I love her.
“But I know you guys have to think about it--the flip side,” she continued. “And…” Here she faltered, fumbling at a loose thread on her jeans. She took a deep breath. “And I want you to know that as much as I love you both, and God knows the midget’s growing on me too, so to speak…I can’t be a part of it.”
Willow just stared at her. “Buffy, what--”
“Willow, listen. I’ll protect all of you with everything I have, but I’m the Slayer. And at least historically, that career hasn’t involved a lot of retirement benefits because retirement usually takes the form of death.” She spoke quickly, as if afraid that her will would fail if she let herself think about her words. “So if anything happened to you guys…” And here her will did fail, at least for a moment. “If anything happened to you, my first order of business would be to hunt down whoever did it and make them suffer in ways that testify to my immense creativity.” She drew a deep breath. “But I’m more likely to die than either of you, and you can’t pick someone whose job description involves nightly risk of mortality.” She fell silent, her gaze never leaving theirs.
A long silence hung over them. Finally, Tara spoke; when she did, Willow could tell she was fighting tears. “Buffy, you’re one of the most remarkable people I’ve ever known, and that has nothing to do with you being the Slayer. Your heart, and your courage--you impress me more than you know.”
Willow couldn’t really speak, because it just hurt too much to think about. No wonder we don’t make many other friends. Who else could understand sitting here and having this conversation?
Buffy was blushing from Tara’s words; looking at Willow, she gave a sad smile. “Just thought we should be clear.”
Willow nodded. “Buffy, what Tara said…Put that to the tenth power and it goes for me.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Buffy gave her a wry grin. “I know that’s a very big number, so color me immensely flattered.” Then she sighed and stood up. “Now--if you’ll excuse me I have to go pick up Dawn from volleyball practice, and then I’m giving my sister her next driving lesson.”
Willow looked up in alarm. This was a whole different sort of peril. “You know, Buff, Tara and I could help out on the whole vehicular aptitude acquisition endeavor,” she offered urgently, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice.
“God, you’re about as subtle as a writer for a failing science fiction show,” Buffy grumbled, flouncing out in faux indignation.
They had settled on Giles, Xander, and Anya. Willow was less than enthusiastic about the third member of that trinity, but Tara had been adamant. “Anya has strength and loyalty,” she said over Willow’s protests. “She should be a part of it.”
Anya had shocked Willow (but not, she suspected, Tara) by bursting into tears when they broached the subject.
“If anything ever happens to you,” she babbled through her tears, “I’ll take care of her, no matter I have to do. Like, if you get bitten by a vampire and turn into unholy bloodsuckers, I’ll stake you myself. You have my word. And…And if you get eaten or eviscerated or decapitated or mutilated or--”
“You’re so kind,” Tara managed, laying a slightly shaky hand across Anya’s shoulders.
Later that evening, as the group was digging into the pizzas they’d ordered, Tara took Willow’s hand. “We need to talk to Dawn,” she said quietly. “After we eat, OK?”
Willow nodded; she’d noticed the girl’s uncharacteristic quiet throughout the night. Half an hour later, they had managed to steer the teenager out onto the front porch without attracting much notice.
“Sweetie, we need your help,” Tara began, and Willow realized at that moment that for Dawn, those were some of the most meaningful words she could hear. “Willow and I plan to be Kyra’s mother for a long, long time. What we asked Giles and Xander and Anya earlier--that’s a worst-case scenario. But she’s going to need you regardless of what happens to us.”
“Why?” Dawn asked, her upturned face pale in the dark.
“Dawnie, who knows better than you do what it’s like to have an…unconventional start to life?” Tara asked softly. “No one will be able to relate to her in quite the same way you will, no matter how much we love her.”
Willow picked up the thread. “And if the worst does happen…Dawn, she’ll need you more than ever. Please promise us that you’ll look out for her; help her make sense of everything.” As she spoke, she found herself remembering a Sunday afternoon when she and Tara had promised Buffy that they would look after Dawn if anything happened to the Slayer.
Everything comes full circle…Who will Kyra look out for in her time?
Dawn looked from one of them to the other. Finally she nodded, almost imperceptibly. “I understand. And I’ll be there for her, whenever and however she needs.” She paused, and then added. “But I expect both of you to be there to shower me with gratitude and affection and maybe ice cream, OK?” She gave them a small grin. “’Cuz I don’t come cheap.”
Willow nodded with feigned formality. “We’ll have the contract drawn up in the morning, Ms. Summers. In exchange for social and emotional services rendered, you shall receive absolutely humongous amounts of love from Ms. Maclay and Ms. Rosenberg--heretofore referred to as ‘The Hot Mamas.’”
“Can I teach her all sorts of cool stuff that you really don’t want her to know?” Dawn asked eagerly.
“Yes, please,” Tara replied smoothly. “In fact, we’ve bought her her first pack of cigarettes. We were hoping you’d have her smoking by preschool.”
“She’ll have a tattoo before she graduates kindergarten,” Dawn promised. “That’s how much I love you guys.” This last part seemed to catch her almost by surprise; she looked down suddenly, as if embarrassed.
“We love you too, Dawnie,” Tara replied softly, laying her hand gently on the teenager’s shoulder. Then she lowered her head until she could look Dawn in the eyes, and gave her trademark crooked smile. “I mean, we must love you. We just entrusted our daughter’s eventual truancy to your capable hands.”
“You can count on me,” Dawn said with an answering grin, but even through the humor Willow recognized the utter seriousness of her promise. She gave first Tara and then Willow a quick hug. As she turned to go back inside, Willow tapped her on the shoulder. Dawn looked at her quizzically.
“Emphasis on the word ‘eventual,’” Willow reminded her.
*****
Three days later, Willow and Tara went downtown to do a little shopping, pushing Kyra in her Blue’s Clues stroller. Willow had insisted on this particular one, thinking that it would encourage Kyra’s own discernment and analytical ability. Tara, for her part, thought it was beyond cute, though she had surprisingly little faith that the blue dog on the plastic would further their daughter’s mental capabilities.
It was a beautiful day. People smiled at them; some stopped to chat. They shared nods of unspoken camaraderie with other parents. No one seemed to bat an eye at two women pushing a baby stroller. Perhaps there was a certain amount of ignorance or naiveté involved; people assuming that they were sisters, or friends. Willow, however, chose to believe that most of them knew she and Tara were a couple and that Kyra was their daughter.
Who could look at us and not know we’re in love?
All was well until they were standing at any unusually long stoplight, waiting to cross the street in search of some lunch. A short white man with a pinched face glowered at them so openly that Willow finally turned to face him.
“Can I help you?” she asked curtly.
The man looked at her with open animosity. “It’s bad enough that you chose to live this lifestyle,” he replied, his eyes dark with hostility. “But to bring a child into it…It’s the worst kind of abomination.” He practically spat the words. Willow felt her face grow hot with anger, and prepared to verbally shred him.
“Based on Paul’s second letter to the church at Corinth?” Tara asked sweetly. The man recoiled so suddenly that Willow thought he might fall into the street. She sort of wished he would. What she knew that he didn’t was that Tara had been raised Southern Baptist. If this man wanted to argue Scripture, he was in for a dogfight.
By now the light had changed; people hurried by as if eager to get away from the growing tension.
“Among other verses,” he finally managed.
“Let’s talk about some of those versus,” Tara continued in the same unassuming voice.
The man’s face flushed as he looked at her. Willow had never encountered such open hatred before. He pointed a shaking finger at Tara and hissed, “Don’t think I don’t know what you are. Don’t think I can’t see the evil inside you.”
This last part was almost laughable, considering that Tara was probably the most un-evil person Willow had ever met. But any impulse to laugh was choked by the sight of the man taking a step closer to Tara, his face crowding closer to hers. Willow knew without having to think about it that if he touched her, there would be profoundly serious consequences.
As it turned out, Willow didn’t have to do anything--not because the man backed down at all, but because he was abruptly pushed to one knee by a force she couldn’t see. He stared up at them, fear now washing across his pale face.
Looking at Tara, Willow knew that she hadn’t cast any spell. At Tara’s questioning glance, she shook her head quickly to say that she wasn’t responsible for the sudden turn of events either.
Almost on instinct, she looked at Kyra, to make sure she was OK…and stared dumbly at her daughter.
If it was possible for an infant to have a “Don’t fuck with me” expression, Kyra was wearing it now. Her tiny fist was extended and her brow was furrowed in anger or concentration or both. She wasn’t crying, and didn’t seem inclined to do so. Instead, her little jaw was set and she glared at the space where the man had been standing.
The man rose shakily to his feet, looking at Kyra as if expecting three little 6’s to emerge along her forehead. He started to speak, then seemed to think better of it. Turning, he gave only a quick glance at the flashing “Walk” sign and practically lurched across the street.
Willow stared first at Tara, and then down at Kyra, who was now babbling happily once again. After a long moment, Tara whispered, “I think our daughter has some very special talents.”
*******
To Be Continued
An infant with a “Don’t fuck with me” expression. Now, that's just good stuff. Willow and Tara being protective and being in their position would make anyone go nuts. But they're holding up, and all that because they work together. Can you hear the happy sign coming from here? 
at: 5/27/04 8:11 am
I love this kid already!
But that's mostly because people with those attitudes are still about and still enjoy hearing themselves speak...(a lot!)....and they'll never really be gone or understand. I thought the way you handled and wrote that part showed great patience and compassion even though it was reflected through Tara. It's a shame really, it would have been really interesting to see Tara kick his ass, even if it was only verbally! 
Luckily there is no icon for 'laughing so hard you practically peed your pants' - which would be really embarassing since I was reading the first part of this at work today 
BWR 