Okay Kittens, here I am, please don't throw rocks at me. I'm sorry, sorry, sorry for the cliffhanger dragging on so long. I actually had someone curse at me on FF.net...that's what I get for posting anywhere but the KB.
I hate to say it, but this chapter is even more angsty than the last. I will say again I will continue to follow all the KB rules.
First, the feedback:
Zampsa1975--Congrats on the double-dibs. Read on to see if your wish comes true.
wimpy0729--I'm sorry I made you nauseous, but I'm glad you're enjoying the fic! Thank you for looking forward to more.
AmongstTheTrees--Thank you so much for your thoughts on this chapter, and the fic in general. I hope you'll continue to read and enjoy.
angieb86--Sorry I broke your heart! I don't know if I should be flattered or horrified...I'm glad my fic is inspiring such suspense!
lonelylanding--...Sorry...
KioNewgo--Part of the waiting is over...but not all, sorry!
vampyregurl73--Thanks so much for your kind words. I'm glad you enjoyed Anya!
Laura--Thanks for the vote of confidence. I hope you'll continue to read and enjoy.
Vamp_Willz--Another broken heart! I'm glad I could move you, but sorry it was painful. Thanks so much for your kind words. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well.
Nue--I agree, I really love Tara, I feel bad that I've kicked her around so much this fic. Just remember, it's always darkest before the dawn. Sorry if that sounds cliche, but in this case there is much truth in it.
DaddyCatALSO--I feel like I've made you panic, and I don't mean to use my powers for evil, so sorry if I upset you, but glad I could move you...if that makes sense...And I agree--love's not an illusion. It's real, but we have to work for it.
BuffyFan4ever--I am severely bruised. Sorry for the wait.
sapphoselene--You win for the most emoticons I've ever had for a chapter. I'm sorry for (but flattered by) the upgrade to nails and spikes. Thanks so much for your compliments, I hope you continue to enjoy.
WR/TM--Thank you so much!
Mrs. Pineapple--Here you go!
Lady Callie--Wow...thank you so much. I'm really glad you're enjoying the fic. I hope you'll continue to read and review. Masterpiece...thanks again, so much. That means a lot to me!
Promethea128--I promise the angst is leading to something wonderful. Please keep reading!
Mags--Read on and see!
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• Title - The Wish of Three Hearts (Part One: Body and Soul)
• Author name – LonelyTara
• Email Address -
9kodama@gmail.com
• Rating - I'm just gonna go R from here on out...
• Disclaimer - While filled with plenty of angst, tension, and grief, please know this will be a happy fic in the end. Not just because of the rules, but because I love W/T too much to mess a great thing up! Oh, and all this belongs to Joss Whedon et al, I'm just borrowing, please don't sue.
• Feedback-Please, please!
• Summary- This is an AU post S7, bouncing back to S6. It's been three years since Tara's death. Willow travels to the canyon that was once Sunnydale California to celebrate her lost love's birthday. Willow makes a wish, and everything changes...
• Notes-Thanks to everyone who will read. Some lines may come from BtVS.
Chapter Fourteen
“No!” The scream was a howl, ripped ragged from Willow’s chest. Too late. They were too late. “No baby, no!”
As rage boiled up the Vincere shattered like glass, knocking Buffy backward off her feet. Willow fell to the ground, curled up with her hands and face pressed to the earth.
Tara. She pressed her herself up onto shaking arms, looked at her lover cradled against the man who had tried to kill them all.
Tara’s gone. And he was laughing.
“You made me a promise,” Tara told Warren. Her voice was so calm, so happy. Willow felt bile rise in her throat.
“A promise?” Mears asked. He looked confused, but then his eyes widened and he began to laugh again, long and loud. “You really are a good girl now, aren’t you?”
“I’m the best girl in the world,” Tara replied.
The best girl in the world, Willow thought.
My girl. My Tara. She gave voice to a high, keening cry and collapsed back into the dirt as tears streamed down her face. She burned as if someone had held her mouth open and made her drink boiling tar, a viscous, clinging grief that would consume her. As the darkness pushed at Willow’s mind she dug her fingers into the ground, begging the earth for strength. The force of it sent her spinning onto her back, one hand locked, digging down into the dirt, and the darkness fought for freedom, left her thrashing uncontrollably on the ground.
“A promise is a promise,” Mears replied. And he handed Tara the gun. “You kill them all, gorgeous. Every single one.” He looked over at the people who had come to rescue his girl, to take from him. “You know where to start.”
“You’re right,” Tara replied. The smile dropped off her face. “I know exactly where to start.” Before Mears had a chance to react she smashed the gun into the side of his head, knocking him to the ground. As soon as he was down she lobbed the gun through the air, sent it flying, arching away to be lost with the temple of Proserpexa in the darkness, in the earth.
A flash of red caught her eye. Tara turned and saw Willow, her beloved, her soul mate, flailing wildly on the ground, Buffy and Giles trying and failing to stop the seizing.
No, she thought.
Please baby—don’t leave me. Tara ran.
The two men sprawled in the cast circle watched her flee toward her lover, toward her family. At first Jonathan kept his eyes nearly shut, his chest heaving as he forced ragged breaths in and out, trying to fake the exertion that would’ve come with a successful casting. Then he noticed Andrew was watching too, saw a smug grin creep across his face as Warren began to roll around on the ground, groaning and clutching his head.
“You’re faking,” Jonathan hissed. “You’re faking being passed out.”
Andrew’s eyes flickered to his. “Looks who’s talking,” he whispered, rolling his eyes. “You’re faking too.”
Jonathan’s mouth fell open. “But—” he began, and then he closed it again. Finally fear drove him to speak. “But I didn’t leave the stag horn and crushed abalone out of the herb sachets.” Andrew’s eyes widened and Jonathan smirked. “That’s right, I saw you toss them under the hearse.”
“Yeah? Well I didn’t pretend to chant the spell while saying
let her be free over and over again in fifteen different ancient tongues before triggering a simple levitation spell. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”
Mears groaned louder, rolling onto his stomach. He tried to lift himself onto his hands and knees but feel back to the ground, cursing.
“So neither of us has any idea of what could’ve possibly gone wrong?” Jonathan asked quickly.
“Exactly,” Andrew replied. “Now shut up and be passed out.”
Gone, she’s gone. A part of Willow could feel her body struggling, jerking; hear Buffy and Giles whispering meaningless comforts and baseless hopes. Maybe she would die. Maybe she would swallow her tongue, or her heart would give out, and then she could be with her. Be with her Tara.
Except her body lives. The earth-touched one’s heart beats. She won’t be waiting for me on the other side of the veil. She’ll be here with him. Unless I feed.
The voice was so tempting, so firm and confident, but Willow knew it wasn’t her own. The shrieking warble of Proserpexa echoed every word flowing through her mind.
I can’t give in, she thought to herself.
Tara is alive. She is in the world. Her heart is beating. I will find a way to bring her back to herself.
His death is the only way to break the spell. Once Mears is dead, Tara will be free. She will be herself again.
What it was true? What if Mears and the other two had to die for the binding to be broken? Wouldn’t it be worth it, worth anything to have Tara with her, safe and whole?
But the debt, Willow thought, pushing the idea from her mind.
The debt must be repaid. I can’t hurt them.
Not yet.
That moment of weakness was all it took. Willow felt her link to the earth flutter, vanish. Her back arched up off the dead grass as she shrieked against the rising of the dark. She was pushed aside, supplanted, felt the burn in her bones, the ache of her flesh, as distant as a whisper.
“Oh god, Willow,” Buffy cried, trying to press her friend’s body to the ground, wincing each time the red head’s thin frame slammed into the earth. Each collision was so hard it made Willow’s teeth snap together, set her joints creaking. And Buffy couldn’t stop it. Even her slayer strength wasn’t enough to stop it. “Giles? What do we do?”
The watcher stared at her, gray and shaken. “I don’t know, Buffy. I don’t know.”
“Willow!”
The slayer’s head snapped up at the sound of Tara’s voice, panicked and strained. She pushed Giles closer to Willow, slid his hand to replace her own, moving it under the witch’s head to keep it from striking the ground. In an instant she was on her feet, blocking Tara’s path.
“It didn’t work,” Tara gasped, doubling over with her hands on her knees. “The spell didn’t work. I’m still me, Buffy. Please,” she pleaded, “Let me go to her.”
She’d known it, known the spell had failed, the moment she heard Willow’s voice call her name with such fear, such grief. Love had moved through Tara so fiercely that it took everything in her not to cry out, to let her body fall to the ground in silence. But she’d had to. Warren had the gun, and if he’d realized Tara was unchanged, he would’ve used it.
“He told you to kill us all,” Buffy replied grimly, fists raised.
“And I knocked him on his ass,” Tara cried, gesturing wildly over her shoulder.
Buffy looked over Tara’s shoulder, saw Mears trying to struggle to his feet. She immediately pulled the blonde witch into her arms.
“Thank god,” the slayer whimpered.
“I luh-love you too,” Tara replied, squeezing the little slayer. “But I have to get to Willow, Buffy.”
The instant the small blonde released her, Tara dropped to her knees next to Willow, gathering her lover into her arms. The moment they touched Willow stopped. She was so quiet, so still. Tara felt a wave of panic rising in her, heard Buffy give a gasp of disbelief. But then Willow took a breath.
“I’m here, Willow,” Tara said, rocking her lover gently. “I’m okay.” She looked up at Buffy and Giles, tears streaming from her beautiful blue eyes. “What happened?”
“She’s been fighting the power rising in her,” Giles said softly, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “Fighting so hard…” The watcher trailed off.
“But she’s losing,” Tara groaned. “No, no. Please Will,” she said, pressing her forehead to her love’s. “Please wake up.”
Mears pushed up on to his knees, cursing under his breath. Every movement sent lances of pain arching across his cheekbone, up over the crown of his head. He could feel blood trickling down the side of his face. With a long, low growl he struggled up from his knees, stumbling as he stood and the world blurred around him.
“She pay, they’ll all pay,” he growled, swaying on his feet. “Just as soon as I find my gun.”
He staggered toward the crevice, looking for any sign of his discarded weapon. Mears peered down into the shadowed depths for any glint of metal, but there was nothing.
“Damn it,” he fumed. Mears lowered himself onto his hands and knees, feeling for a handhold, looking for a route that would let him climb safely down to find the gun. “Useless henchmen, traitorous bitch. They all deserve to suffer. A bullet’s too fast, but a bullet is going to have to do.” He began to crawl around the rim of the pit, still trying to find a way down. “And then I’ll kill the slayer, and all her little friends. It’ll be done. I’ll be the winner. I win.”
He crawled forward again and found his way barred by slim, khaki clad legs. Mears looked up and found Andrew staring down at him, the blonde man’s face twisting with a funny little smile.
“Did you lose something, Warren?”
“Stop smiling at me and help me find the fucking gun. I’m going to end this,” Mears snarled.
“What’re you going to do with that gun, Warren?” He asked, still smiling. “We tried to help you. We’ve always tried to help you. What’re you going to do with that gun?”
“I’m going to use it, Andrew,” Mears replied. He forced a smile on his face. “But don’t worry, I would never hurt you. You’re my friend. Now help me look.”
Andrew nodded, stepping out of Mears path, standing behind him and stretching on his toes to look down into the chasm.
“Is that it?” He asked, pointing.
“What?” Mears turned toward the pit, hands gripping the edge as he leaned in, looking for any sign of the gun he was seeking so intently.
“That’s it,” Andrew said.
He pulled his right foot back and then planted it soundly against Warren Mears’s backside. The dark haired man tumbled into the chasm, eyes wide with shock. He fell right onto the three-tined sculpture at the top of the spire, letting out a long, low groan as it pierced through his chest. Mears jerked once, twice, and then he was still, bowing backward, his eyes glazed as he stared, unseeing, up at the sky.
“Andrew, what did you do?”
The blonde man turned to find Jonathan watching him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“What I had to do,” Andrew replied coolly. “He was looking for the gun,” he continued, pointing down into the darkness. “Warren was going to kill us all, Jonathan. He got what he deserved.”
“Is that it Andrew?” Jonathan asked, walking forward and poking the taller man in the chest. “Is that really why Warren had to die?”
“What are you talking about?” Andrew said, rolling his eyes. “I saved our lives, Jonathan, you should be thanking me.” He stepped past the smaller man, only to find Levinson barring his path, poking him again.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Andrew.” Jonathan gripped his hair, pacing in tight arcs. “You followed him around like a love starved puppy for months. Did anything he asked of you, no matter how horrible. How could you just kill him like that? Like he didn’t matter?”
“He called me a henchman!” Andrew shrieked, giving Jonathan a shove. “Me! I was supposed to be his partner, his trusted ally—his friend. But all I was to him was a henchman. No more important to him than the damned Warren bot.”
Andrew was crying now. He turned to face the chasm again, staring down at Warren’s body. Jonathan held himself very still; ready to flee if the blonde man gave any indication he would attack.
“He wasn’t supposed to want her,” the blonde man whimpered. “He wasn’t supposed to want her.”
“Andrew,” Jonathan began.
“We have to go,” he replied, turning back from the crevice. He grabbed Jonathan’s hand and pulled him toward the hearse. “We have to get out of here while the slayer and her friends are still distracted.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” the little man fumed, pulling his arm free. “We’re staying right here.”
“And do what, Jonathan?” Andrew hissed. “Wait for the slayer and her friends to put an end to us?”
“They aren’t like us,” he replied quietly. “They won’t hurt us. The slayer and her allies will see that justice is done.”
“Justice?” Andrew laughed hollowly. “Do you not remember what that jail cell was like? You wanna be some guy’s butt monkey for life? Because that is what justice means for us.”
“We deserve to be punished for the things we’ve done.”
“If you want to be punished then you stay here.” Andrew began to back away from Jonathan. “But I’m leaving. I hear Mexico is very nice this time of year.” He took another step. “Last chance, Jonathan.”
When the smaller man didn’t answer, Andrew turned back toward the hearse, taking long strides. Jonathan stared after him for a moment and then gave a ragged shout. He ran after the blonde man, and when he was close enough Jonathan threw himself into the air, tackling Andrew to the ground. Before Wells could do more than give an angry squawk, Jonathan punched him the face with all his strength. By the third blow Andrew was bleeding from the nose, unconscious. Jonathan walked over to the binding circle and picked up the marker and handcuffs that Mears had used to imprison Tara. His face was devoid of all emotion as he pulled his former ally’s arms behind his back, cuffing him securely. With that done, he pinned the marker to Andrew’s jaw and sat down next to him, pressing his chin to his knees.
“We deserve to be punished,” Jonathan murmured. “We’re finally going to do what’s right.”
“I’m right here, Willow. I’m right here my darling.” Tara rocked her lover with supreme gentleness, running a hand over her silken hair. She’d tried everything—singing, begging, tears, but Willow didn’t respond. Even at the press of Tara’s lips, at true love’s kiss, beauty stayed sleeping.
“I’m so sorry for frightening you,” Tara murmured, pressing her cheek to Willow’s hair. “I had to pretend the rite worked because of the gun. I didn’t want Mears to hurt anyone, love. I didn’t want him to hurt you.” She gasped as she began to weep. “Please wake up.”
As if her words were a talisman, Willow began to stir in her arms.
“Willow? Love?” Tara asked. When she shifted again Tara looked up at the Scoobies, smiling through her tears. “She’s waking up.”
“Thank god,” Xander groaned, pulling Buffy in for a hug. “Thank god.”
“She’ll be okay,” Buffy said.
Dawn gave a happy squeal and tried to move closer, but Anya held her back, shook her head.
“Wait,” the vengeance demon murmured. Giles gave her a grim nod of approval.
Tara’s smile faltered at the fear she saw on Anya’s face, Giles looking so haggard, so tense. But the Willow moved again and the smile crept back. The blonde looked down, saw the redhead’s eyes fluttering open.
“Baby?” She asked.
Willow looked up at Tara with a gaze of liquid ebony.
“No,” Tara breathed.
Willow’s face twisted in a smile, broad and leering, black spread like ink through the roots of her hair.
“Comforted,” Willow’s mouth moved but it wasn’t her that spoke. The voice coming from her body was far too deep, thick and distorted. “Even now she is comforted because you are well. She’d tell you so herself, but she’s busy right now. And later, well, let’s just say I don’t think Willow will be living here anymore.”
“Oh goddess, no,” Tara groaned. “What do I do?” She murmured, looking up at the Scoobies. “What do I do?”
“Tara,” Giles said, he reached out a hand to the blonde, gripping her shoulder. “Let me try the Vincere again.”
The blonde nodded and he began to murmur, holding up his hand. As green light flared, Willow’s hand made a sweeping gesture.
“No,” the terrible voice hooted. “That won’t work anymore.”
Giles’s eyes widened as he stared down at Willow, watched her being swallowed whole, but Tara never took her eyes of the watcher. He began to lift his hand off her shoulder and Tara reached out, lighting fast, pinning it in place. She could see it, swimming in his aura.
A power, she thought, and dared to hope.
There’s a power there, and it isn’t for him.
She locked eyes with Giles. “I know you came with a gift for her. Please, let me give it.”
Giles hesitated for an instant, but then he nodded. “Do it,” he murmured.
“Do what?” Buffy asked.
“It will be all right,” Giles replied. “Don’t interfere.”
Tara lifted her hand off of Giles’s and pressed it against the man’s chest, and then she moved toward Willow’s chest with the other.
“No,” the darkness snapped.
A way of energy hit Tara and Giles, throwing them backward away from Willow.
“Dammit,” Buffy growled, running past Willow, who was cackling and jerking violently on the ground. “Xander check on Giles.”
Buffy ran to Tara, turning the blonde onto her back. A broad swath of scraped flesh had been added to the network of bruises on the young woman’s face.
“Tara,” she said, patting her cheek gently. “Come on, Tara. Wake up.” Buffy gave a little sigh of relief when the witch groaned, blinking slowly.
“Buffy,” she groaned.
“You okay?”
“Buffy, I need you to hold her down. I have to help her.”
The slayer stared at her for a moment and then nodded. “Come on.”
She pulled Tara to her feet effortlessly, leading her back toward Willow. Xander was helping Giles climb slowly to his feet. The watcher was holding the side of his head. Buffy sprinted the rest of the distance toward her best friend, seeming to move in a blur. She threw herself on top of the redhead, and Willow began to buck, spitting and raging at Buffy in a half-dozen different tongues.
“Help me,” Buffy said, barely able to hold on against the powerful thrashing.
Anya kneeled down and pressed herself against Willow’s legs. “Can’t you punch her or something?” The vengeance demon demanded. “She seemed much easier to control when she was unconscious.”
“I’ve got it,” Dawn said, moving down next to Anya to grab Willow’s feet.
“Dawn—” Buffy began.
“It’s okay, Buffy,” the slender teen replied. “Let me help. Willow’s my family too.”
The slayer nodded, and in that same moment Tara hobbled up to them. She beckoned Giles closer and pressed her hand to the watcher’s chest again, dropping to her knees. In the same moment she pressed her free hand to Willow, completing the circuit between them.
So pure, Tara thought. “I love you, Willow.”
It started as a thin amber ribbon, like the crackling of heat lighting. The amber moved, out of Giles’s chest and into Tara’s hand, glimmered over the sky blue of her eyes, and passed out of her other hand, into Willow. Giles gave a little groan and slumped forward. Xander gripped the watcher’s shoulders, holding him upright. The flicker became a glow that pulsed brighter and brighter under Tara’s hands. Tara’s breath came in sharp gasps as her eyes glowed brighter and brighter.
Willow, come back to me.
Tara’s thought echoed in the mind of every Scooby. For the first time, each of them experienced the true and real depths of love that the blonde held for the slender red haired witch. Xander, Anya, Dawn, Buffy, and Giles, each and every one of them, wept silently, praying along with Tara for Willow to fight, to pull back from the darkness. The light from Giles’s chest flared more brilliantly than ever, and Tara gave voice to a ragged cry that was drowned by the roar pulled from Willow.
As the light began to fade, Willow’s cry went higher and higher, her thrashing became a trembling, and then she was shaking with sobs. Buffy, Anya, and Dawn all settled back. Willow’s hair was fiery red again, with no trace of black, and she was clutching herself to Tara with all her strength.
“I’m sorry,” Willow gasped, looking up at Tara. “I’m so sorry.”
My green-eyed girl, Tara rejoiced. “Shush, love.”
“I’m so sorry,” Willow cried. “So sorry I hurt you. Please forgive me.” She pulled Tara closer.
“It was just a little tumble, love,” Tara murmured, pressing a kiss to Willow’s bright red hair. “You didn’t hurt me.”
“Forgive me for using dark magic when Glory hurt you,” Willow cried. “Forgive me for losing myself to the magic and playing with your memory. For—”
Tara pressed her hand over Willow’s mouth, lifted it away again when her lover fell silent. “It doesn’t matter anymore, we’re together now.”
She pressed her lips to Willow’s and felt the tension bleed out of her lover. Tara smiled into the kiss as Willow’s arms slipped around her, pulling her close.
“I love you, I love you,” Willow whispered in Tara’s ear. “Please love, will you help me, I need to stand.”
“Of course,” Tara murmured. She rose to her feet, shaking her head when the slayer took a step forward. “I’ve got you,” Tara murmured, supporting Willow around her waist, gripping one hand, as she struggled up off the ground.
“Thank you,” Willow told Tara. She reached out with her free hand and took hold of the one Tara had placed around her waist, so they were standing, face to face, clasping hands.
“ I know now, Tara,” Willow whispered to her. “I understand. I know what I have to do.”
“Willow?”
“Someday I hope you’ll understand it too.”
Willow held up her hand and a wall of translucent energy, evergreen and amber, washed over Tara and the others.
Willow? Tara opened her mouth to speak her lover’s name, only to find that she couldn’t move, even blink, she was left staring at her lover.
“You said it doesn’t matter,” Willow murmured, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on Tara’s cheek. “But it does, because the darkness is still in me.” She pressed her free hand to her stomach. “I can feel it fighting to be free. And as long as that darkness is in the world, the terms of the Ter Sis Animi cannot truly be fulfilled. You won’t be safe.”
Please Will, Tara begged.
We can figure this out. Willow, just let us go.
“It’s okay, Tara,” Willow said, smiling though her eyes swum with tears. “Because I know now, I know the price I have to pay.” She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Tara’s lips. “I love you, and I always will.”
Willow turned and she began to run, slow and staggering at first, but then her stride began to strengthen, lengthen into grace. Tara’s eyes widened with horror. Willow was heading toward the chasm.
No! Tara felt her power flare, pushed by panic. The barrier Willow had erected around her disappeared in a wash of sky blue and wheat, and then Tara was running, screaming her lover’s name.
She could hear the other Scoobies calling out as the spell Willow had placed was washed away, but she didn’t stop.
I have to reach Willow. The words echoed in her head, again and again. Reality seemed to shift, the air go thick as honey. Willow was so lithe, so light, like a leaf carried on the wind. She heard Buffy pounding up behind her, but even her slayer’s speed would not be enough. Tara dug in, fighting for another burst of speed, desperate to close the gap, to stop Willlow. To stop her from—
Willow Rosenberg, her love, her soul mate, the woman who had literally saved Tara’s life, reached the edge of the chasm. She stopped, chest heaving as she gasped for breath.
Not in time, Tara thought, and felt a scream pressing against her ribs.
Not in time.
And Willow turned, green eyes swimming with tears, hair blazing in the light. “I love you Tara!” She shouted it, smiling even as tears welled, slipping down her cheeks. Tara reached for her, and then Willow was in the air, falling. The flash of her red hair was like the sun slipping down behind the edge of the earth.