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[center]See Chapter One for disclaimers.[/center]
[center]A special happy belated birthday to DW dahling! Starcomed thank you.[/center]
Chapter Eleven – Skin Changes
Once again Willow found herself in the library. It seemed to be her place of late when it came to needing ‘alone time’. She had a lot of thinking to do. Idly she nudged the candle on the table with her hand, then stopped, before extending a finger to trace the sun-shaped image embellished in the wax. There were so many thoughts orbiting around in her head. Just as she was closing her eyes, something suddenly lurched in her chest and a feeling of dread came over her.
Something’s wrong, very wrong! Tara?!
Willow jumped up and ran, leaving her books, bag and everything else behind. Cognitive thought gave way to impulse. Her legs carried her quickly across the lawn, guided by something inborn that lead her straight to the student union. She was through the doors just in time to witness Oz’s interaction with Tara - neither of them saw her.
Oz felt the predator in him stir as he moved closer to her. “You smell like… Willow.” His lip involuntarily curled into a tiny snarl. “She's on you, all over you, do you know that? It’s like she’s part of you!”
“I can't, I-I can't talk about this n-now.” Tara tried to walk away. She didn’t know what to say and… really, it was up to Willow.
Obviously, whatever happened between Willow and Oz yesterday didn’t include discussing me, or ‘the situation’.
“Wait, is there something to talk about?” Oz couldn’t help it when he roughly grabbed her by the arm, angrier than before. “Something’s going on between you two? How are you involved?”
Tara gasped and stared at him in shock. His touch burned her skin as the animal rage in him grew. She had to protect herself and the baby, so she pulled back from him, knowing she needed to get away. “I have, I-I I have to g-go.”
Willow knew what was coming; she had seen it before. But she could hardly believe it – there was no moon, it was daytime. She remembered Oz killing Veruca; the mauled flesh and ripped throat. The idea of that happening to Tara sickened her.
Tara, no, no… not Tara, not the baby! Her own instincts came to the surface. Without registering it in her mind, her body was in motion, headed towards them. “OZ NO!”
His voice rose. “We talked all night and she never, NEVER said anything to me!” Oz gripped her by the shoulders, and then abruptly let her go. “Wait. Stop!” He just registered Willow shouting at him.
No! It can’t be. He started panting as fur sprouted and fingers curled into claws. His heart quickened as a tormenting spasm rippled over him, this was always an agonizing transformation. Oz looked up at Tara just as his face began morphing. Eyes already black, he barely whispered out through clenched teeth, “RRRuunn.” He fell to his knees as his clothes split, bones lengthening with a sickening crack, and skin stretching like taunt canvas across the newly formed skeleton.
Willow raced towards them. She quickly reached Tara and grabbed her wrist. “We have to go! NOW!”
Tara was frightened for the baby more than for herself; she knew she was in no condition to outrun anyone, let alone a werewolf. As she fast-walked, in a rushed voice she barely managed, “W-Willow, I can’t run… the baby.”
They scuttled down a hallway, hearing a wild howl echoing behind them. The sound of scraping sharp nails against the floor and vicious snarls ricocheted off the walls.
Oh, goddess help us! Willow was panicked and couldn’t think clearly – no instant spell, no quick incantation. She knew well enough now, that accidents could happen when you rushed magick. Out of the corner of her eye she spied a janitor’s closet. It was the only chance they had as she pulled Tara with her, hoping the door was unlocked. She clutched at the doorknob and twisted it frantically. It was locked and she could hear the wolf down the hall. She kept trying anyway, blistering her hand from the overwrought friction of skin against metal. It was a searing pain that burned the surface of her palms; she winced slightly, but it was nothing compared to what could happen next.
Tara saw the werewolf at the end of the hall, approaching them quickly. She stood next to Willow, who continued to work the door handle furiously with two hands, to no avail.
Spotting his prey, the wolf slowed down. He was rabid and wild, stalking them.
Tara gulped and grabbed one of Willow’s arms, giving it a slight jerk to get her attention.
Feeling the tug on her arm Willow turned back towards Tara. She could see the wolf ambling towards them, readying himself for a strike.
Tara I failed you and I failed the baby. Failed, failed, failed… I’m so sorry. A wave of regret passed through her and she moved defensively in front of Tara to shield her and the baby. It was a last ditch effort.
Failed? The word breezed through Tara’s head as she reached for one of Willow’s hands. There was reassurance in the small gesture. She intertwined their fingers, getting the redhead’s full attention. The moment her fingers slid into place remembrances of the past echoed through her triggering an idea. She pulled Willow backwards so they could stand side by side.
Willow felt the warm hand in hers; those fingers wrapping around her own so securely, so perfectly. She silently followed Tara’s lead. When she turned to look at Tara again, she softly gasped. There was a commanding beauty in Tara that Willow had never seen before and a pair of electric blue eyes searched hers. They pierced past thought into something deep within her; Willow surrendered to it. Something inside her vibrated and hummed. At that exact moment she was no longer just ‘herself’.
The werewolf was within striking distance. He crouched low ready to pounce. Bristling fur, ears back, he licked his fangs and lunged forward, claws stretched outward.
They were singular then, moving as one, eyes focused on each other. Tightening their clenched hands, they extended the free ones forth, aiming at the wolf. They snapped their heads forward simultaneously, facing the werewolf and intoned at the exact same time, “Dormio!” A light flashed forward, emanating from their outward facing palms, hitting the wolf squarely on the chest.
He felt the bright light just as it hit him. His body went slack, then yielded to the absolute.
The lax body of the werewolf fell with a dull thud and skidded to a slow halt at their feet. They both let out a breath of relief and relaxed their grip. Tara pulled away first, breaking their contact.
An instant feeling of loss overcame Willow as Tara withdrew her hand. She looked briefly at her palm and the blistered surface was healed. She was a bit confused, but it was secondary to her main concern - Tara’s wellbeing. “You okay?”
“Better now.” Tara stepped away from Willow and removed her jacket, placing it over the wolf-reverting-man. “We were just talking and, he changed. Right in front of me.”
The fallen werewolf began to change back.
“I don’t understand? He didn’t wolf-out last night with the full moon?” Shock held Willow rooted as she questioned aloud and watched Tara gracefully attend to Oz. She could not quite comprehend what had just happened.
Even after all that, she still looks after him.
“I know, but it happened,” Tara spoke softly. She kept her head bowed, but looked up at Willow spotting an op-outfitted Riley down the hall approaching, his gun trained on the downed figure. Despite the disguise she knew it was him. The ex-commando had kept his gear, not only for it’s practical use, but also so he could continue tracking the Initiative’s movements, sabotaging them when necessary. The splintered organization was still a presence on the Hellmouth interfering with the Slayer’s work. From what he could gather, the leftover Initiative’s efforts were concentrated in the collecting of ‘species’. Whatever they were up to, he knew better than to trust them.
Creeping forward cautiously, Riley abruptly stopped at the lying body before him. Pulling off his mask, his eyes registered surprise as the wolf-like creature regressed into a semi-recognizable Oz. He passed a wandering gaze between Willow, Tara, and Oz.
- - Cresh-ack! - -
His remote communicator jarred him out of his surprised stare, and Willow out of her pondering shocked haze. “Agents, report! Sightings on the ‘unknown?’”
“I think they might hurt him,” Tara whispered.
A horrified expression crossed Willow’s face. She could only suspect what kind of horrors might await a captive Oz if the Initiative ever got a hold of him. Barely operational or not, they were dangerous.
The look from Willow is all he needed. Riley gave her an encouraging nod before speaking into his Willow-voice-altered com to lure the Initiative away.
- - Cresh-ack! - -
“Reporting, corridor is clear. Repeat, corridor is clear. Over.” Riley’s warbled voice echoed through the radio.
- - Cresh-ack! - -
“Signal lost, full sweep. Report, full sweep to commence.”
Riley turned off his radio communicator absently, while he stared at the semi-Oz . “You guys ok? And him, trancq’d right? How?” He could recognize the drugged induced sleep.
“Yeah, um, were good….” Willow replied, assessing Tara, who just nodded. “… It’s Oz, asleep… um magick.” She didn’t know exactly how to explain where the spell had come from. She looked at Tara with a newfound respect, slightly entranced by her. The magick feeling, that connection, was still buzzing in her hand. Maybe it was just the newly healed skin of her palms; they itched slightly.
“Good, then get him out of here. I can keep the boys busy for a little while. But they’ll be doing a full sweep by here soon.” He knew how they worked. He pulled his mask over his face to keep incognito amongst the other soldiers and took off back in the direction he came from.
Willow huffed taking one of Oz’s arms as Tara silently took the other. They dragged him off, but even for a small man, he was heavy as dead weight. They got to a side door and pulled him out.
“Here, let’s put him in here. I don’t think we can pull him any farther.” Willow motioned over to a dense group of bushes close by.
The strain can’t be good for Tara and the baby. Talk about stress and hypertension… why is she so quiet?
“Ok,” Tara simply stated, as they lugged him towards the bushes.
Once hidden within, both Tara and Willow sat down in the dirt. They both knew they needed help. An uncomfortable quietude took root between them.
“I’ll go find Buffy,” Tara finally broke the lingering silence. “You stay, make sure he’s ok.”
“No, wait. Tara you don’t understand.” Willow felt the need to confess. “Last night we were just talking. Nothing happened.”
“No, it's okay. I-I always knew that if he came back...” Tara knew it was inevitable.
She’s letting me down easy. Maybe it’s time to make this easy for her too.
Willow aimlessly cut her off, trying to make her point. “You know, it was intense. Just talking to him again. And we had a lot to talk about too. I kinda feel like my head's gonna explode. But….”
“Whatever happens Willow... well, I'll still be your friend and you’ll always be….”
Part of me, always. Tara was visibly upset, her hormones surging with the stress.
“What? Of course, we'll be friends! That's not even a question.” Willow cut her off again, struggling more than ever with her own emotions.
“What I'm saying is… I-I know what Oz means to you.” Tara was trying hard to be valiant.
Don’t you see, don’t you know how much you mean to me?
“How can you say that when I'm not even sure? He left and, well everything’s different… and complicated now. I know what he meant to me, and... then we….” Willow’s nerves were beginning to fray under the emotional pressure and a few tears fell.
“I know Willow, I know.” Tara’s heart was breaking, just looking at her. She was awash in sympathy. Pausing briefly, she reached over to brush the tears off Willow's cheek, her thumb glided across wet landscape.
Even crying, she's beautiful. “You need to do what makes you... h-happy.” It was just that simple.
“But, I don't know what that is. I just… and...” Willow sniffled and looked up at Tara. “…there’s you and the baby.” Willow couldn’t hold all the strain and all the pressure in any longer; she let the tears fall freely. “And, here comes Oz, back, what I wanted most of all. I don't know what to do, I... I just don't know.”
Tara could only nod; she did understand, and it was time to let Willow go. She would help Willow make that decision; she just needed to take herself out of the picture. She would never ever want to just tie Willow to her; she knew what Oz meant to her friend. All those months of grieving and moping had led to the pregnancy in the first place. She steadied herself for what she needed to say, “I know you once said you liked having me to yourself… but I’m
not….”
“‘Not’?” Willow felt a terrible foreboding creep over every inch of her skin.
“What does Tara mean? What does she mean!!?”
“‘Not’… ‘yours’.” Tara placed a hand on her stomach. She couldn’t look up at Willow. She had to hold back the terrible sorrow threatening her own eyes. “I belong to someone else now. I thought, maybe, there was more… but...” She shook her head.
Wishful thinking, that’s all.
Someone else? The baby? Hot tears streamed down Willow’s face as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
I did, or do, like having Tara to myself. Not sharing her with anyone. Greedy Willow. But, I meant more than just that though, didn’t I? Tara’s not a thing; a possession, no…. “Tara? There…there was, or is, ‘more’. I’m just not sure what the ‘more’ is...”
Tara bit the inside of her cheek to keep her cool before speaking, “Neither am I… not anymore.” She stood up quickly. Just as Willow knelt up trying to reach for her, and she took a swift leave. “I’ll go find Buffy.”
Willow sat back down in the soft ground, covering her face with her hands.
Tara?
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It was no surprise that Tara easily found Buffy. Her intuition really had grown with her pregnancy. Beyond that, it was easy to deduce. With Riley out playing faux-commando, Buffy could only be in a few places: her dorm room, Giles’, the cafeteria, or her mom’s. Tara found her in the dorms. After informing the Slayer of what had just transpired, Tara went back to her own place.
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Upon arriving home Tara calmly cleaned herself up, stripping down and discarding her sweaty clothes from this morning.
Maybe I’m in shock. Shouldn’t I be a bit more upset?
Standing in front of the full-length mirror she studied her visage with a critical eye. Her hair was noticeably darker, almost an entire shade, so that it was sandy in color. Her hair seemed coarser as she ran her hand over her head, pulling a few strands loose.
And, it’s not just the hair on my head is it?
She looked down her body with raised eyebrows. Then, she turned to stare at her swollen belly, cupping the rounding form with two hands. Tracing the slightly purplish-pink line over her stomach, she brushed over her protruding navel.
They didn’t really tell me about this!
She faced the mirror again and looked at her growing breasts.
Are my nipples darker too? She covered herself up with a robe.
Ok, enough obsessing over my body changes, more to do….
But, there wasn't a lot left to do. She took a sweeping look at her little room.
Everything’s fine… just fine.
Convincement was a tricky little game. She was okay until her thoughts began to center on a certain co-parent; a partner of sorts, and questions circled her head.
Did she come for me and the baby? Or, for Oz? How did she find us?
“Whatever happens we will always be together.” Her tone was unconvincing as she caught sight of scrap of yellow paper. And, she had completely lost the game when she let go an anguished sob.
Willow.
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With Buffy’s help, it was easy to get Oz to a safe place until the sleep spell wore off and the danger had passed. Willow knew he was too drained to change back into the wolf again. Plus, Buffy was waiting nearby, just in case.
Sitting in Oz’s van once more stripped away the months of separation and Willow suddenly felt all the yesterdays become today again. This space and this person were the focal point of her trip in retrograde. But that’s all it was. She knew that now. It was the goodbye that she never really had the chance to make.
Oz sat quietly in the driver’s seat, staring at a point above and beyond the steering wheel.
Beyond the nostalgia and past the final farewell, Willow knew there were other reasons to send Oz away. There were too many dangers. Even with only the dregs of the Initiative around, Oz would be in constant peril. More importantly, Tara and the baby would always be at risk with Oz around. He admitted that he couldn’t help attacking Tara. Their mingled DNA, the baby, it was a beacon to the wolf to kill what wasn’t his. It was the natural predator that was always inside of him.
“So... you're happy?” A baby, it was a shock, but then he was a wolf, so how shocking could it really be?
The corners of Willow’s mouth turned up as she realized that she really had been happy. “I am, I think. I can't explain it.”
“Don’t. It’s safer,” Oz replied, in a concerned flat manner.
Willow was saddened at the dry Oz-styled remark. “I did miss you. It was hard, you, away, and no way to find you.” She paused. “And it hurt…”
“It was stupid to think you’d just be...here, waiting.” He chastised himself.
“I think I was. I think I always will be, kind of, in a way?” She really felt that, part of her always would. First loves were just kind of like that.
Oz gave her a sideways glance and nodded.
She smiled a little and looked at him intently, “So, what now?” She already knew the answer.
“I’m leaving. Again. It’s better this way.” He would never want to hurt anyone, especially anyone that Willow cared for. The idea of ‘it’, that thing in him, harming her baby made him sick. He needed to go and never come back; he needed the catharsis of the open road.
Willow knew this was goodbye. “Now, huh?”
“Now.” Oz watched as tears formed in her eyes. He leaned over to hold her for the last time. “I’m sorry. Never Willow, I promise, I’ll never, ever… tell her, Tara, ‘I’m sorry.’ Ok?” He pulled away and stiffened, staring once more over the steering wheel of the van, not wanting to look at her again.
She looked over his profile one more time. “Bye Oz.” Willow spoke gently as she moved forward opening the door. “Bye.” This time it came out in a whisper as she closed the van door behind her. She was sad and relieved at the same time.
Tara, I need to see Tara.
---
In a darkened room Tara sat. She had run the range of emotions swinging from despair to outrage. Right now, she just felt hollow and it was comforting sitting in the blackness - guarded by walls, a closed door, a shut window. The darkness swallowed her cries, kept the sharpness blurred, and safely hid her away. Solace.
---
1, 2, 3… 10, 11, 12, turn, 13, 14, 15… 21, 22, 23, 24 turn, walk… 25, 26, 27… 34, 35, 36 turn, 37, 38, 39….
Willow counted again, the steps up to Tara’s room. It was always calming; simple numbers were easy, equations were another matter. She jogged up the stairs with the waxy object in hand.
…46, 47, 48.
Landing on the top step, she looked down the hallway and took a deep breath. Then she knelt down setting the decorative paraffin on the floor and pulling the matches out of her back pocket. She ripped a matchstick from its perfect little holding place, folded the matchbook cover over itself and placed the match between the covers. A quick pull. Nothing. She frowned and tried it again. Nothing. A faint smell of smoke and the balding match top were her only reward. “Damn,” she whispered. She tossed the useless match away and roughly tore another out of the book. This time she lined up the match perfectly on the striking surface and firmly folded the cover on top. Then she tugged hard.
- - Phh-POP! - -
A quick spark and warm popping noise followed instantly by a warm flame made her smile. She too swiftly moved to light the candle she had bought especially for Tara. Just as she was about to touch the wick she let out a soft sigh blowing the match out. “Damn!” She breathed out a bit louder in frustration, inadvertently inhaling some of the wispy trailing smoke.
- - Cough! - -
Stupid smoke. Maybe these matches are cursed? I could light this easy-like with one little sp-…. She shook her head.
With a concentrated face she gently tore another match out staring at the open matchbook.
It leaves a gaping hole… not so perfect. She noted the interrupted line where the matches should have been, the gash and pulled fiber of the paper. She frowned a bit and automatically placed the match to be lit, again folding the cover over, but softly thumbing that broken spot where the matches were once nestled. She was in a trance as she pulled the match, barely hearing it drag against the emery board. The burnt smell and quick bloom of fire caught her attention.
Light it stupid!
With trembling hands she gently moved the lit match. Carefully shielding the flame with a hand, she drew it up to the wick of the candle. She watched the as fire grew slightly and heard the fizzle as the waxy tip caught fire. Tucking the matchbook back in her pocket, she smiled once more, watching intently as a tiny bead of sweat seemed to form and then create the smallest of indents just below the hot wick.
Ok.
She closed her eyes briefly and steadied her hands around the growing warmth of the cheery candle. An emanating yellowish-red glow prompted her and she stood up, carefully balancing the candle in her hands. On shaky legs she moved purposefully down the hallway, stopping at the threshold before her.
She felt like she was always at this same door. Worried and nervous she rocked on her feet, delicately holding the candle in one hand. Then, she knocked on the wooden frame. Things almost went so wrong.
There was no answer. So Willow knocked again, louder, eyeing up the lit candle warily.
Still, no answer? “Tara?” She tried once more, this time banging harder. The flame shimmered and shook with the motion.
She furrowed her brow and wrapped her free hand around the handle, slowly turning it. With the door open, Willow noticed how dark the interior was. The lone candle illuminated the immediate doorway, but the room beyond had the unmistakable feeling of absence; nothingness.
“Tara?”
Willow held the flickering light outward. The orange glow barely glimmered in the darkness, and Willow found it eerie.
“Tara?!”
Again no reply, she fumbled and thumped her hand against the wall looking for the room light. Her hand slid over the plastic wall plate, the switch pressed into the middle of her palm and she felt a ghostly leftover pain. With a quick motion she flipped on the lights.
Her body stiffened at the sight and she dropped the candle. The smell of sulfur filled the air as the candle’s light doused, leaving nothing but a faint trail of vanishing smoke. A cold chill ran down Willow’s spine. A dead feeling in her chest weighted her down causing her numb legs to wobble and she stumbled backwards.
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Oh & boy!
by Shy One » Mon Aug 21, 2006 9:14 am 
looks to me like an update is around the corner i am so excited you have no idea 
, really good fic, I love it.
