by AntigoneUnbound » Wed Oct 06, 2004 11:10 pm
Hey Debra: So glad to hear the lasik worked like the proverbial charm! I've been really lucky in that realm, and I hope I'm sufficiently grateful. Must feel so great to enjoy this new gift.
MC: Hey, I was raised Republican, too. But now I think my father and grandfather look down on their party from above and wonder when they turned into moral arbiters and corporate chow-hounds. As for liking Dick Cheney--well, I gotta admit: I'm shocked I could actually put those two words in the same sentence and not have my head explode. I think we're in a scary, scary time, and the decisions we make in this election are gonna affect us and our children for a very long time. Anyway--thanks for the support and the flexibility. Merci, MC!
And now--we continue with our story:
AS TIME GOES BY
Part 10
Summary: Oh, listen, things are just tot crazy...Willow and Tara have this, like, baby, if you can believe it, and, like, where did she come from?; and Faith's back, and she seems all, like, chilled-out or something, and she's talking about this prophecy; and all these really good people have, like, totally died and it seems like they did it to themselves. It's just, like...wow... You know?
Rating: This section has a bit of "R" in it. You're welcome.
Disclaimer: Haiku: Willow and Tara/Lovelier than words can say/Their owner blows huge.
*******
"Well that was...unnerving." Willow knew she was guilty of gross understatement, but right now her synapses were firing too quickly and too randomly to give the night its verbal due.
As soon as Faith had left, Willow and Tara had bounded up the stairs, as if Faith could somehow have spirited Kyra out of the house. But Kyra had been sleeping just as they'd left her--her mouth a tiny "O," her thumb curled near her head.
The conversation in the wake of Faith's departure was surprisingly brief. Willow suspected it had something to do with each of them needing some time in their own mind to mull over the night and, more to the point, think back over his or her past relationship with the other Slayer. After a few abbreviated observations, they had each gone their way for the night. The one exception to the avoidance had been Dawn.
"So Faith doesn't know about my little prenatal tour of mystical duty, it seems," she mused. "Do we tell her?"
"No." Buffy's voice was flat, and it struck Willow that it had been a while since Buffy had made such a unilateral decision. "The less Faith knows about you, the better."
Giles nodded slowly. "I'm inclined to agree. Faith certainly gave no indication of harboring any malicious designs, but I suggest we err on the side of caution."
"Or, as Buffy said, 'no,'" Xander offered with a tense grin that didn't reach his eyes. Willow feel feel his uneasiness. Looking back, she suspected that he had harbored more hopes for his dalliance with Faith than he had ever admitted. If he couldn't have the good Slayer, he'd take the bad one. But Faith had used him to work off some stress, and then cast him aside with nothing but scorn. Willow wondered if this part bothered him mroe than her later assault.
"O--kay..." Dawn replied slowly, blinking at the tension in the room. Willow thought of how odd it must be for her. She had seen Faith betray her sister; watched her switch bodies and try to take her life. And she hadn't seen any of it. Her feelings ran deep about it though, Willow knew. Dawn had originally idolized Faith--or so they all remembered. Including Dawn.
So they had all bid goodnight, after making plans to meet the next day at the Magic Box to discuss the prophecy. There was no mention of when they might see Faith again. Now Willow and Tara were changing into their nightclothes, after yet another check on Kyra. Tara was standing in front of the mirror, drawing a brush through her hair with long, deliberate strokes. Willow watched her, the tension of the evening momentarily forgotten.
When we're 80, I will still love this sight. I will still sit here and watch her comb her hair and rub lotion onto her skin. A sudden flare of panic shot over her. Oh, goddess...Please let me open my eyes at 80 and see her. Please. She drew a deep breath, and tried to banish the inexplicable fear.
Tara turned to face her and caught Willow staring. A slightly embarrassed smile crossed her face. She still has a hard time believing how beautiful she is. But she no longer ducked her head to hide behind a curtain of hair.
"Unsettling...That's one word for it." Tara came toward her and Willow stretched out her hand. Tara grasped it lightly and pulled Willow close. "How are you, Sweetie?" she breathed against Willow's hair.
Fine--so long as I can always stay here.
"You know, I suspect this is one of those conversations best conducted in the horizontal comfort of our bed," she replied, trying to smile.
Tara rubbed her cheek softly and nodded. Soon, they were snuggled under the big, lilac-colored duvet, laying on their sides, faces inches apart. "Will, that must have been so hard," Tara murmured. "I mean, Faith betrayed the whole group, but she kidnapped you...and hit you," she added, her voice hardening slightly even as she reached out to stroke Willow's lip where the blow had landed four years earlier.
Willow thought back to that night, her initial fear giving way to anger and then a sudden, sure knowledge that no matter what happened to her, she would be fine. That in some larger, transcendent way, she would be OK. I regret that I have but one life to give for my Scoobies.
That night had changed her, given her focus. Had Faith not taken her hostage, she might well have gone to Oxford, or Harvard, or MIT. Left Sunnydale; left the fight. Never met Tara. But in the midst of having a ridiculously large knife held to her throat, Willow had realized where she belonged: here, with these people in this quite-possibly-literally God-forsaken town. And she had never regretted it. Willow looked over at Tara. "God, that seems like so long ago. I mean, so much has happened since she was around. Everything's so different." She looked into Tara's soft eyes for a moment, then added, "I'm so different."
Tara gazed at her questioningly. "What are you thinking of?"
Willow nuzzled into her pillow and thought about those days and these days and the days that bridged them. "Well of course there's the likage of girls and the likage of one girl in particular...But I'm stronger now. Less easily impressed, you know?"
"As in, it takes more than attitude and a black leather jacket to get your attention now?" Tara's eyes were dancing with soft laughter.
"My attention, and my respect," Willow answered seriously. "I was so jealous of Faith...Her Slayer bond with Buffy; her coolness; her confidence...God, definitely her confidence." She looked at Tara, and her mind went back to that night at the Bronze. "What about you, Baby? I mean, you only met Faith once, but..." She trailed off, wincing as she remembered that night yet again.
"But it had a lotta bang for its very brief buck," Tara finished, her mouth tightening at the memory. "Willow, that night...Faith's energy was so awful. Cruel and jagged and totally hateful. And there was nobody she hated more than herself. I could tell that after five minutes. That was another way I knew it couldn't be Buffy. The friend you described had quote issues unquote, but not like this." Tara fell silent, as if replaying the night in her own mind.
"Yeah--Faith showed her true colors that night," Willow said slowly, looking at Tara with a fierce kindness.
"Oh, you mean the whole 'wh-wh-what?' thing and the whole 'I've never seen two people more in love' thing?" Tara asked, her voice heavy with irony.
"Baby, if I'd been there, I would have...Well, I'm not sure what I'd have done. But it would have been very forceful." She shook her head ruefully. "I still can't believe I couldn't tell she wasn't Buffy."
"You were too close," Tara argued, but Willow knew the out was a specious one.
"I was too far away," she countered. "We'd been drifting apart for months, until one night when I look in my best friend's eyes and I don't even see that it's not her."
"But Will--her energy now..." Tara frowned slightly.
"What? Did you pick up something?" Willow felt her heart quicken its pace.
"I don't know," Tara replied slowly. "I mean, I'm not sure...But it's different somehow. At least, I think it is. Before it was all heat and anger--looking for any excuse to fight."
"And now?" Willow asked.
"Now she feels...tired. Like she doesn't want to fight that much anymore but it's what she knows. And the anger feels...flatter, somehow. More resigned, maybe."
Willow nodded. She had sensed the dark Slayer's exhaustion as well, but Tara's words gave her more trust in that impression. Willow knew that Tara read energies better than any of them. "So you thinks she's been--what--tamed somehow?" she asked.
But Tara shook her head quickly. "Not tamed. I don't think Faith will ever be tamed." She gave a tiny half-smile, and Willow felt that odd trace of possessiveness steal over her. Was Tara actually admiring Faith's wild side?
"But I think she's been tempered--a lot," Tara was saying. "And I really didn't pick up any hostile intentions from her. I mean, I'm not psychic or anything; it's not like I'm never wrong about this stuff. But when she caught us putting ourselves between her and the stairs--I think she really wanted us to know she wasn't going to try anything."
Willow considered this. "Well, I know Giles was gonna call Angel tonight when he got home. If Faith's telling the truth, she's been fighting the good fight for a while now."
"And deserves credit for doing it," Tara added. "But goddess knows she's gonna have an uphill battle, with all the bridges she's burned here." Tara stopped and looked at her closely. "What?"
"What, 'what'?" Willw said defensively in a masterful rhetorical feint.
"The corners of your mouth are all tight...Like you're not full-blown upset, but you're in the area code."
"I'm just worried about Faith; and wondering how everybody's doing."
"Uh-huh," Tara's mouth said, while her eyebrows said, "Tell me another one, Scheherazade."
Willow felt silly about her unease, but decided to be at least a little more forthcoming. "Faith just makes me nervous on about fifteen different levels. She's...She's the 'x' I never solved for."
Tara looked at her, confusion in her eyes. "But I thought you said you saw past her bravado now."
"Yeah, looking back at who she was. But now maybe she's somebody else. 'X' is 'y' now, and I have to solve for it all over again."
Tara chuckled softly. "My little Pythagoras..." She leaned over to kiss her gently on the lips. Willow felt a surge of need, and reached out to clasp the back of Tara's neck, pinning her lover's lips against her own. After a moment, she pulled back slightly.
"Well ma'am, yes ma'am," Tara murmured, her breath warm on Willow's lips. "And how might you like to work off some of that tension?"
"I think you know," Willow replied. She gripped Tara's back urgently, pulling her lover onto her so that she was covered with the incredible warmth of Tara's flesh. She loved the feeling of Tara's breasts pressed into hers. Just the image of that embrace--stealing over her at the most random times--could leave her belly twisting with desire and her face flushed. Now she cupped Tara's face and kissed her hungrily, wanting the full, soft fact of their union to quiet the roar in her head and stir a different sort of roiling.
Tara pulled back just enough to look at her closely. "Willow, Sweetie--are you okay?"
Willow only nodded, then whispered, "Tara, please. Now--please."
She saw the darkening of Tara's eyes, that shading that told her she was hungry and aching. The look that told Willow that Tara, the gentlest soul she knew, felt fierce and raw and anything but gentle at that moment.
Tara held her gaze for several seconds, and then leaned down, pressing her lips to Willow's ear, and whispered, "Yes. I'll take you, Willow. I'll have you."
Willow felt as if she might come from just the words, just the feel of Tara's breath hot against her ear and the knowledge of what she would do.
Tara shifted, gazed at Willow for a moment more, and then lowered her head to Willow's breast. There was no teasing; no slow, deliberate stroking. Tara's mouth was hot and urgent on her nipple, alternately sucking the flesh deep into her mouth and pressing it between her tongue and teeth. After a few minutes, she pulled back and pressed Willow's breasts tightly together, running her thumbs over both nipples.
"You are so beautiful," she said, her voice low and fierce. Then she lowered her head once more and sucked the other swollen nipple into her warm, wet mouth. As she did, she shifted slightly, spreading herself over Willow's leg. Willow could feel the slippery wetness soaking her flesh, grinding into her thigh.
Again came the voice, urgent and sure and powerful. "I'll have you, Willow. Now." And with the words, Tara plunged two fingers deep into Willow--pushing and searching and taking.
Willow choked back a cry and sank her teeth into Tara's shoulders. Her legs, already open to Tara's demands, spread helplessly wider in her need.
"Yes--let me have you, Willow. Let me have all of you." The fingers curled, dragging back over the ridged flesh, as Tara withdrew to her opening and danced there, teased her for just one moment, and then plunged back in, groaning as she did. Again the curling of those long, sure fingers; again the slow withdrawal; again the fierce, demanding entrance. That rhythm, the absolute certainty and strength of Tara's deep stroking left Willow at once aching and satisfied. The world narrowed to that rhythm, those strokes.
"Like this?" Tara whispered, but Willow knew it wasn't really a question. Tara knew her body; knew her groans and cries and movements so completely. She knew now that that Willow needed to be taken; needed this insistent thrusting...Just as she knew that Willow was close to coming...
The force gathered low in her belly and then pushed lower, spiralling into a liquid-fire coil that throbbed and hummed and tightened until she was burning, burning so hot and bright that everything in and around her shimmered with the heat of Tara's stroking. She would burst with this heat, she had to; she was bursting now--
And when she came, her mouth was clasped against Tara's neck and her legs were shaking with the force and she realized dimly that she was crying but she didn't really know why. The only reality she needed at that moment was Tara's flesh, warm and strong against her, and Tara's arms cradling her tight and Tara's whispers easing her back to her center.
She slept as if drugged.
*******
Willow and Tara arrived at the Magic Box a few minutes after five the next day, Kyra gurgling happily in her stroller. They had debated splitting up, with one of them staying at home with Kyra, but Willow had felt uneasy about being apart. "At least until we know for sure that Faith's on the level," she said tightly. She didn't know whether Faith would join them; she wasn't sure that Faith even knew about the Magic Box. But she didn't like the idea of her or Tara being alone with Kyra and vulnerable to an attack. Upon their arrival, they asked Giles to lock the door and pull the shades such that if Faith did happen by, she couldn't get in without their knowledge and one of them would take Kyra back to the training room. "I'm just not ready for Faith to know about her yet," Willow said flatly, and Tara seemed to agree.
She sank into a chair and pulled Kyra out of her stroller, then set her gently on her feet. Their daughter had apparently decided that one year was more than enough time to get the hang of walking and seemed to feel that she had already wasted too much time under the ambulatory aegis of other people. Willow and Tara would trade off keeping their beautiful child from banging into tables and chairs and random magical objects.
"Girl gets cuter every darn time I see her, and I see her several times a day," Buffy marvelled. Dawn was down on the floor trying to entice Kyra to say her name.
"DAAWWNN," the teenager said slowly and very loudly. For her part, Kyra looked amused, glancing back at her parents as if to say, "Check this out. Whaddya wanna bet I can get her to stand on her head and sing the Canadian national anthem?"
Willow started slightly at the sound of a knock on the door, but a careful look from Giles revealed that it was Xander and Anya, the last to arrive. "But those kind of activities typically leave a mark," Anya was saying. "So if you really want me to use--"
"Anya, if you could perhaps wait just one second, that would give me time to hurl myself into a wood chipper such that I could die without ever knowing how you were going to finish that sentence," Giles broke in, his face grim.
"I was talking about refinishing some furniture," Anya replied, seemingly mystified.
"Oh. Do pardon me," Giles fumbled, embarrassed. In turning away to retrieve a book, he missed the very pointed wink that Anya bestowed upon the rest of them.
Willow sensed that some of the previous night's tension had dissipated. Everyone seemed more relaxed, though Buffy was still tightly wound and looked up sharply at any sound from the street.
"I haven't been able to find much more on the prophecy that Faith delivered," Giles said apologetically. "Although I must say, it does seem rather straightforward. Out of lightness shall come darkness. Out of darkness, new light. If Wesley is correct--that the suicides are connected to this prophecy--then it would seem that the first 'lightness' refers to the good that the victims have done and the darkness--well, that would seem to indicate the loss of those good souls. What remains perplexing--and, I confess, most troubling--is the 'new light' that's supposed to emerge from that darkness."
"Do we know anything more about the suicide victims themselves?" Tara asked, watching Kyra toddle toward Dawn's outstretched arms.
"I looked into their backgrounds as much as I could," Giles replied. "They really shared no characteristics of note except for their commitment to the greater good. They varied by age, race, gender, sexual orientation...They came from different parts of the country, and they were from divergent religious backgrounds and current practices."
"But they all did good stuff and they all killed themselves," Anya summarized neatly.
"Well...yes," Giles acknowledged.
"And you said before that they used different methods," Willow inquired.
"Right," the Watcher nodded. "The police officer shot herself; the philanthropist and the social worker slit their wrists. The AIDS lobbyist jumped from his eighth-floor apartment and the director of the women's shelter over-dosed on Tylenol and bourbon." He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, clearly reluctant to continue. "And now there's a sixth case."
"What? Who? When did it happen?" The questions came from various sources.
"This afternoon," Giles sighed, holding up a hand for quiet. "It was a woman in her mid-forties; Hispanic-American, married with two children. She was apparently a great force at the literacy council. She hanged herself in her home. It seems she hadn't gone in to work, nor had she called. The first event was remarkably rare for her; the second, unheard of. They called her husband who went home to check on her and found her."
Willow noticed Xander reach across to take Anya's hand. She looked at him questioningly. "Promise me you'll never take yourself away from me like that," he said, his voice tight. An uncomfortable silence filled the room for a moment as Anya just smiled at him gently and nodded.
"Her husband said they had been married for thirteen years, and he had never known her to be seriously depressed; certainly never suicidal," Giles concluded after a moment.
"And we're absolutely sure they did this to themselves?" Xander interjected.
"There's nothing to suggest the contrary; then again, the police have no reason to look for any other alternatives; at least, not in great depth. None of them had enemies, for example, and none were involved in any kind of crime like drugs or extortion. But I doubt the authorities are considering more otherworldly possibilities."
"And doesn't that sorta seem bizarre?" Dawn piped up. "I mean, they have to notice all the weird stuff that happens in this town. But you never hear of them investigating anything, or designating a special unit, or putting out any kind of warnings like, 'Don't go out after dark because this place is crawling with vampires!' Seems pretty unbelievable to me."
"Denial is an amazing thing," Giles concurred.
"This place is beyond denial," Buffy said flatly. "This place is an alternate reality." Silent agreement greeted this assessment.
"In any case, this is the sixth suicide--or apparent suicide--within a five-week period. I did some reviewing, and learned that over the past ten years Sunnydale has averaged two suicides a year. This current rate is beyond remarkable."
"And beyond tragic," Tara added softly. Giles looked at her, nodding sadly.
Buffy suddenly leapt to her feet, her features grim.
"Buffy?" Willow whispered, fear slamming into her chest.
"Faith--she's here."
"Jeez, B--you mean to say you can smell me? Not sure what to make outta that." Faith emerged from the training room, shaking her head. "You know, Rupert, if you're gonna lock the door, you might wanna check the windows, too. Kinda like locking your convertible and then leaving the top down." She stopped abruptly as she caught sight of Tara--clutching Kyra to her chest. Willow jumped and ran to stand in front of them.
Faith stared at the three of them, looking from Willow to Tara and then--most intently of all--Kyra. "Damn, girls," she finally murmured. She stepped forward, her eyes never leaving Kyra.
Willow readied to fight, but Buffy had already jumped in between her and Faith. "Touch that child and I kill you. It's just that simple," she hissed.
Faith looked dumbly at Buffy, as if suprised to notice her again. Her eyes were wide and questioning and filled with a raw vulnerability that Willow had never seen in Faith before. "I'm--I'm not gonna hurt her," she said, her voice tight with bewilderment, as if stunned that Buffy would consider her capable of such a thing. She looked back at Kyra, and then shook her head as if to reorient herself. After a moment, she stepped back. Willow felt herself relax just slightly.
"Damn," she repeated softly. "She's...She's totally yours, isn't she?"
Willow reached behind her to take Tara's hand. "Yes. She's totally ours," she replied curtly.
Faith looked closely at Tara, and then back at Kyra. Finally she nodded. "Kid's got your eyes, T." And a tiny smile graced the corner of Faith's mouth.
Willow stiffened--at Faith's obvious interest in Kyra, her intense inspection of their child...and the term of familiarity. Clearly Faith remembered Tara.
"Faith, why are you here?" Giles' curt voice seemed to crack the bubble that had encased the four of them: Willow, Tara, Kyra, and Faith. Some change slid over Faith--or reasserted itself. She turned to face the rest of them, tossing her head casually and tucking her hands into her back pockets.
"I was feelin' lonely," she shrugged. "Wanted to see what was going down. Did a little detective work; scouted around some; and figured you'd all be here."
"You mean you can actually read?" Anya's tone was acerbic.
Oh God, Anya--shut up, Willow thought with dread.
But Faith just gave a sardonic laugh. "Yeah, I like to hit the library--when I'm not bangin' the locals, of course."
Wonderful, Faith. Thank every god you ever believed in she doesn't have her powers--
"You should thank every god in this and every world that I don't have my vengeance powers anymore," Anya practically spit. "If I did, I would--"
"Spank me? Ooh...Very promising." Then she seemed to tire of the game and turned to Buffy. "Listen, B--all I know is that Angel sends me down here to help you out. Not give you the prophecy and leave; he said to Help. You. Out. I was gettin' buggy sittin' in the hotel room. There's only so much porn a girl can watch--even a girl like me."
"You could borrow my copy of 'Lord of the Rings'" Giles said drily.
"Thanks anyway," Faith said easily, shaking her head. "But the hairy feet kinda wig me out." She turned her attention back to Buffy. "I didn't really overhear anything you guys were saying. You--what? Sensed me pretty much as soon as I got here. I was gonna let you know I was here, by the way."
"And we'll just take your word on that, of course," Giles retorted. "No reason to suspect an ulterior motive."
"Fine. Suspect whatever." It was as Tara had described: Faith seemed exhausted. "I was gettin' ready to say something when you jumped up. You did sense me, didn't you Buff?" Her tone shifted at this last part; seemed to hold a challenge of some sort, Willow thought. But what?
"Listen," Faith continued after a moment. "If I were gonna go all homicidal on you, don't you think I would have come out of that fuckin' armory back there with something besides my good looks and this knife?" As she said this, she swiftly drew out the knife--and dropped it on the floor. "I'm unarmed now, kids. 'Course, you can always frisk me to make sure." This time Willow felt the sexual energy crackle through the room. And she desperately wanted to know its target.
All she did know was that Faith was here, in this room and in her life. Faith was standing here with Willow's child and her life mate and her best friends. She felt scared and vulnerable in a way that she hadn't in a long time. And her distress wasn't helped by what she saw when she glanced over at her family.
Kyra was stretching her arms out, reaching for Faith.
*****
To Be Continued
Edited by: AntigoneUnbound at: 10/7/04 9:37 am
. Btw, very evil cliffhanger there. Can't wait for more!!
AntigoneUnbound 
(how I miss that woman 
) As always, excellent, dialed-in (meaning "right on the button) characterization: the dialogue, mannerisms, etc. It's like watching an ep. Love the plot twists and very interesting take on Season 6. Oh if our ending was only half as good. Excellent work as always, which was to be expected from you. Now about that update...
....how did that happen??...
Actually I believe her, and so Kyra it seems
and solve the mistery right?
Hmmmm...not sure which actually. Regardless, I need to have more. So, please update soon!
