Queen of Hearts (Status report: 3 October 2013)

[Finey_McFine]

I'm pretty sure it was during...that whole nether realms deal (sex with clothes on) and the , "We conjured this." Yeah, I bet you did! lol Plus they didn't show up at Giles house until the next day, hmmmm...

[love_2003]

I don't know how I missed not only one but two updates. I need to pay more attention so I know when there is an update. Loved both updates. I'm glad Tara was able to express what she expects/doesn't expect from Willow. Now we just need Willow to realize she wants to be in a relationship with Tara and that she is also in love with her. On the other hand though I understand Willow taking her time and wanting to make sure of her feelings for Tara before rushing into anything. Can't wait for the next update!

[BeMyDeputy]

Feedback responses and some questions:

Ariel,
I hope your NYC trip was awesome, and that you’re having a great time in India. I’d feel a tinsy bit bad updating while you’re traveling, except that you’ve seen two or three drafts of this post already.

As for “dibs-ed,” I’m pretty sure that the verb is actually “to call dibs,” making the past tense “called dibs.” Now, if “to dibs” is a regular English verb, I think “dibsed” would be the correct past tense.

Several things regarding the “guilt spiral” and the issue of using someone: Willow’s seen her friends used, and she knows they were both willing participants going in, but regretted it later. Also, this relationship with Tara is different from her relationship with Oz in ways other than the fact that Tara’s a girl. One fueling her concern here is that she and Tara started as friends, built a close friendship, and now it’s transforming. I believe the Facebook phrase “It’s complicated” is apt. But with Oz, there was a much more stark “here’s this guy, and I like his hands, and he says the super sweet thing about ‘Willow kissage,’” and then they’re dating. They aren’t really friends first, and that works for Willow, because she’s very good at classifying relationships into types, and thinking about the role she plays in that relationship based on what kind it is. But the complicated mess that exists in the space between a close friendship and a relationship is really hard for her. She doesn’t have a defined role to play, and doesn’t know what’s expected of her. Where this leads to problems with guilt is that she has all this trust from their friendship, and she’s afraid that touching Tara, and even wanting to touch Tara, is an abuse of that trust. She hears that it’s what Tara wants, but that doesn’t stop her from being afraid. This mess combined with her watching her friends walk face-first into situations that left them feeling used makes her concerned that Tara may think she’s okay with something that actually isn’t.

At the same time, Tara is hyper aware that this is a really new thing for Willow, but jumps to the not unreasonable conclusion that is an issue of Tara being female (well, after the even more obvious conclusion of “I screwed up.”). She wants this to be a relationship, so she’s super motivated to get Willow to talk out any problems that she has. It isn’t until her assumptions are all cleared up that she can say “look, I’m a grown up. I know what I want . . . and it’s to sleep with you.”

I’m happy you liked the both the Genesis reference and the mechanics of working it in. I grew up without a religious education (like, the first time someone explained the idea of God to me I was seven, and it was an explanation by a seven year old Unitarian), so while I thought the idea was really cool, I had to look up the reference myself, and I knew what I was talking about. That exchange was supposed to come an update earlier, and just happen in Willow’s head, but it wouldn’t have worked, because if she knew to what she was alluding, there wouldn’t be any clarification. I’m much happier with it the way it turned out.

I’m glad you liked the ending. Honestly . . . I just needed it to end. After their talk, they weren’t going back to sexy time, and they were both pretty emotionally drained, so I figured sleep would make sense.

You are, as ever, most welcome.


zampsa19752001
Yay indeed. Since those three words won’t be making their appearance for quite a while, it’s important that they say something about how they feel. Lots more of that towards the end of this update.


DaddyCatALSO
I love both of their lines of reasoning, but I think I actually like Tara’s a bit better. I mean, she’s an adult, and in fact older than Willow (it hasn’t come up yet, but my Willow’s birthday is August 17th, 1981), so Willow’s desire to protect Tara from something she wants seems really silly to her.

Also, Kate is a good strong name (I am also fond of “Katie,” which I also go by), and wholeheartedly approve of any influence you had on that choice of name for your daughter.

By the way, where’s your signature from?

(You wrote twice, so be sure to catch your other answer towards the bottom.)


wimpy0729
I’m glad you liked Tara’s thoughts on the matter. As I get into more in this update, Tara isn’t going into this blindly, or thinking that it’s something that it isn’t. I really wanted to get across that Tara’s choice to be willing to sleep with Willow isn’t one based on wishful thinking. Sure, she wants a romantic relationship with Willow, but doesn’t believe that’s possible.

And yes, topless snuggles are best. Well, naked snuggles may win out, but you are topless when you’re naked, so naked is a subset of topless.


Promthea128
Yay! I mean, not yay that your brain was off, but yay that you liked it.


Lavenderangel
Hey, tipsy feedback is fun feedback. Anyway, I’m glad that their transition is working well. I have this sense of how fast things have to ramp up, given the end of chapter four is sex, and I need to get them both physically and emotionally in a place where that’s okay in not very much story time. Making that believable is a scary challenge for me, so it’s good to hear it’s working.


KnightlyLove
I think I may have said this in chat, but let me reiterate. Your feedback was beautiful, and when I feel frustrated or upset at my story, I’ll pull it up and stare at it until I feel better. (Just a warning: if this is too sexy for a school night, don’t read “Please” on a school night.)

One of the things that I really like about BtVS is that it’s funny and sexy and smart and emotional all at once, and so the best way I feel I can honor that is to write in a similar way. It takes a long time to write, but it’s the only way I can feel like I’ve done justice to the source material. Not to say I don’t like nice fluffy things; I read several light, warm, fuzzy fics, but that’s not me.

As for my Tara, I agree that she’s a “radical interpretation of the text.” Would JW could look at my story and say, “yes, that’s my character”? Well, probably not. But I think she fits in the same space pretty well. She’s also “possible for me to write.” I am constantly amazed by Katharyn’s Tara in “Processing,” and at how little says so much.

I’m extremely pleased I have succeeded in fulfilling an important role in your life. Will I complete your life by updating daily with the same ability to give you blue balls? Obviously not, as it’s been over a month.

As ever, thanks to my friend Megan for a) wearing a bodice b) having an amazing rack and c) letting me photograph said rack in said bodice.

As for your edit, as we talked about in chat, whether or not they should sleep together before NMR, they certainly are going to sleep together at the end of this chapter. I haven’t written myself into a corner because, well, I’m writing directly towards them having sex. Is Tara letting her lust take over? I wouldn’t go quite that far. She’s thought about it a lot, and yes, her physical need for Willow is weighted heavily in the decision making process. But it’s not the only thing she’s considered. Another big thing is her birthday. Just as much as Willow’s desired to have sex before the world ends (“Graduation Day”), Tara wants to have sex before life as she knows it ends. Under everything Tara is afraid that that motivation is her using Willow, which is why it’s so important to her to know where they both are emotionally through this, and to let Willow make the first moves.

Plus, what are the downsides to sex? Tara doesn’t know. Tara’s never had sex before, so she doesn’t have a grasp of how much sex can change things. She’s not afraid of losing Willow as a friend if things go poorly because it hasn’t occurred to her that it’s a possibility.

I’m not making any value judgments on them sleeping together at the end of this chapter; I’m just trying to take them to a place where it makes sense that they do.

As for the astral perception bit, it’s mostly my crutch to get them through the part of their relationship where they don’t instantly recognize what emotions go behind what facial expressions. I’m really bad at describing facial expressions without using the emotion I assume is causing it. By the time in the story where I write this crutch out of existence (if I write that far), they’ll have known each other a long time, so I’ll just be able to say that Willow looked frustrated or horny or whatever.

And me “going Neverland” on you . . . well, yes, it’s totally not uncommon for me to go over a month without updating. However, I have yet to take break of over a year, so in that respect, I’m not.


Wayland
Thanks so much for the kind words. Everything you sighted about what you like is what I like about BtVS, so it makes me feel like I’m doing a good job honoring the original material. As with the feedback KnightlyLove left above yours, I’ll stare at what you wrote to make me feel better when the story is kicking my ass.

Willow not calling what she’s feeling love, despite the fact that it’s clear to the reader (at least, I hope it’s clear to the reader) that she’s in love is one of those things that I really hope people are curious about, so I’m glad someone’s wondering. Excellent.


Arsyadriani, KnightlyLove, BuffyFan4ever
You have no idea how much your fury made my day.


DaddyCatALSO
I’m really tempted to write “They make love for the first time at the end of NMR,” and leave it at that, because it would be technically true, and therefore funny.

They have sex at the end of this chapter, after the spell. Not only was this my initial interpretation of the scene (seriously, what was the direction for the end of that scene? “Willow falls back and comes . . . so, Aly, get on that”?), but in the season 4 summary featurette on the DVDs, JW says, “We shot one of the steamiest sex scenes that we’ve ever shot, which was designed specifically to be their first sex scene.” So, if it feels I’m building up to them having sex, it’s because I am. If it hasn’t . . . I’m doing something really wrong. I’ve talked a lot about the fact that sex is looming on the horizon in my answers to feedback, particularly in my response to KnightlyLove, so you may want to check that out.


JustSkipIt: Yay, you’re still around. Thank you for the very kind words and your link your response to my feedback for “Waiting for Dani.” There may have been some happy dancing when I saw that . . . okay, there certainly was some happy dancing when I saw that.


Finey_McFine
Yes.

Seriously, Willow finds out that Faith and Buffy switched bodies, and waits until like, 9:00 am to go to Giles? They had to be doing something compelling, particularly since I've emphasized what a good little solider Willow is.


love_2003
If it helps, I always post in the Update Thread when there’s a new update. Or April Fool’s Day joke.

Yes, we do need Willow to figure all that stuff out, but it’s going to be a while. Her blundering along in the meantime are pretty adorable, though.



A Note on Storytelling
So, I’ve been thinking a lot about storytelling lately. This whole note should probably come when I’m done with Queen of Hearts, but it’s on my mind now. So, suck it. Or, you know, just skip it (I think I’m so damned clever).

See, my fiancé got this idea stuck in my head that when I’m done with this story, I should extract all the copyrighted material, put in something else, and try to publish. Now, he said this without an understanding of how much stuff that would require trashing, and without any interest in ever reading this, but the idea just won’t leave me alone. I have a setting and names and how it would open and . . . it’s really bad.

So, right, storytelling. From what I can tell, for any story, there are actually several stories. There’s the story on the page (what I think of as the primary story, but am sure there’s an actual term for), the story between the author and the primary story, the story of how the primary story was written, and then the story between the reader and the primary story. I’m also pretty sure that people in some academic discipline have better ways of talking about this, but I don’t know what one. Maybe literary criticism? If anyone knows, I’m really curious about this now, so PM me or leave it in the comments.

Now, from what I remember from . . . somewhere . . . conventional wisdom is that the most important of all these is the last one I mentioned, the story that takes place between the reader and the text, and that the story between the author and the text is the least important. But I live an era of DVD commentaries, and am utterly fascinated by what the story means to the creator: what was intended, what was accidental, what the theme was, things like that. None of that negates the story that occurs between the reader and the story, but that doesn’t make it any less interesting.

One of the great things about writing in a forum like this is that readers and writers have a chance to talk about their different stories. When I’m reading a story, I can say “hey, this part made me think of this, is that what you thought about?” It makes the written word a lot more interactive, and I think that’s really cool. (I’ve also been watching a lot of vlogbrothers—think Ze Frank—so, that’s got me thinking about community and interativeness of media, too. And if you’re a nerd, and don’t know who Ze Frank is, there is a major hole in your life. Go take care of that as soon as you’ve read my story and left a comment).

Where this all comes together is this: if I were to burn Queen of Hearts to the ground and build something out of the ashes, would that interest you? What does the story mean to you: what do you think it’s about? What things do you like to read about, and what things don’t you like? Do you ever want to hear me talk about what my writing means to me (I mean, if I want it out of other authors, I should at least offer)? I tend to leave long, rambling responses to feedback: is that interesting? Anyone that’s talked to me in chat has probably noticed that I really like talking about this story. Really, really like. So, if my feedback is more than you were really looking for, I can understand that. But, if you like it, I’ll keep doing it.

Fair warning, I’m bipolar, and have the classic problem of starting things that are awesome, getting partway through, and then totally abandoning them. And I was intimidated by editing the update below (all 8,892 words of it), and that’s way shorter than a full novel. So I can’t say that this is something that will happen, or even that it’s likely to happen. Just that I’m thinking about it, and want to know what other people think. Plus, all those answers help me write Queen of Hearts, so even if project “write a book” never comes to fruition, it’ll be useful.

[BeMyDeputy]

Author: BeMyDeputy (Kate)
Rating: PG-13 for this section (for sexiness). Up to NC-17 for later installments.
Feedback: Yes! Please! Are you reading and don’t have more than “I like this”? Fine, post that! Disagree terribly with my portrayal of the characters? Fine, post that, but I reserve the right to defend them. Supposedly sexy parts not sexy? Bitch! This is my first major fiction piece, so rip it up. If you just write “you suck,” I’ll ignore you.
Notes: The entirety of Chapter 4, including "Unspoken" takes place across "This Year's Girl" and "Who Are You?"
Spoilers: This is season 4. If you haven't seen season 4, what are you doing here?
Content disclaimer (this section) : Sex: No, but there is one fairly dirty line. Angst: Yes.
I Don't Own This Disclaimer: The entire Buffyverse (including setting, characters, and plot) is property of its owners, including but not limited to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement is intended by this work. "This Year's Girl" was written by Douglas Petrie and "Who Are You?" was written by Joss Whedon.
I Don't Own This Disclaimer II: The quoted lyrics from "My Favorite Things" were written by Oscar Hammerstein II.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to my awesome beta reader, dlline, for pointing out that my urge to say “come with” instead of “come with me” is a Midwestern colloquialism and not how most people talk. (Bonus fact: I spelled colloquialism right on the first try, which utterly amazes me.) Thanks to Ariel for, among other things, letting me pull my hair out and scream at her about how many fucking times they change clothes during this ONE DAY and how it makes my life complicated.

Note: In addition to feedback responses, I’ve posted a short bit about storytelling with some questions in the previous post. I encourage people to take a look.

Note II: I am a tom boy. My understanding of clothes is “ooh, funny/cute/smart t-shirt. Me like,” and “Damn she looks hot in that.” So, if my writing about Willow and Tara and clothes seems unenthusiastic . . . that’s because it is. Stupid canon. Er . . . I mean . . . yes, it's a carefully constructed thing where the change in outfits signifies a change in their emotional state . . . no, that doesn't hold up. Rats.


Chapter 4 part 2: Unspoken

Today was day three.

Day three since Tara had broken down crying in front of Willow twice in one evening.

Day three since Willow had pulled violently away from Tara’s touch.

Day three since Tara had confessed she would sleep with Willow.

For such a confession, the days had been rather tame. No drama, no change in their relationship . . . in fact, almost no private time at all. The night in question, Wednesday, they had fallen asleep early in each other’s arms. Thursday morning they woke early and shared gentle kisses and decidedly north-of-the-waistband caresses until they needed to get ready for class. Tara had an exam Friday morning, so while they ate dinner together, Tara returned to her room alone Thursday evening to study. Friday evening Willow had called briefly to say that she had Scooby duties to perform all night.

Now it was Saturday. It was already after 1:00, and Tara had yet to hear from Willow. She found herself back on the floor of her room, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Though she accepted the perfectly rational and understandable reasons that they had spent so little time together since the event in question, she couldn’t help but fret that there were other things keeping Willow away.

“I’m so confused, Mom. I mean, she moved away so fast. I know she said that she wasn’t upset with me, but . . . that memory, that feeling of her pulling away like that makes me feel sick.” Tara shuddered as the memory washed over her.

“It’s so easy to be me with her, the me I keep for myself. Maybe . . . maybe I’ve put myself too far out there. It’s only been a week since she said she was interested, and I started really opening up before that.” A sigh escaped Tara’s lips before she closed her eyes. “No, I’ve certainly put myself too far out there. It’s not like she . . . . She doesn’t love me.” The quietly spoken words hung uncomfortably in the air, and Tara let them float there in deep silence for several minutes. “I don’t want it to matter, but it does. It doesn’t change how I feel about her, or what I would or wouldn’t do with her, but it does matter. I don’t even know if she can love me . . . but it hurts.

“Of course, there’s the problem of what she thinks I feel. I mean, she was interested in my thoughts on sleeping together if she doesn’t love me. Does she already know that I love her? Can she tell? Does she not need to know? Does it only matter to her how she feels? Did saying I’d sleep with her imply to her that I love her?” Tara hugged her arms to her chest. “How do I find out? I can’t just ask, not after--”

The sharp ring of the phone interrupted Tara’s monologue. Despite her concerns about the status of things between herself and Willow, she quickly jumped up and grabbed the phone during the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi! It’s, uh, me, Willow.”

Just the sound of Willow’s voice made Tara feel better. “Hi Willow.”

“So, anyway, I have this thing I need to do for Buffy, and it’ll take all afternoon.” Tara swallowed hard. The past days without Willow had been hard, and the prospect of another was daunting. “But, if you’re interested, you could come with me.” Tara’s heart swelled; she was eager to be a part of Willow’s normal life, even if that life happened to involve monsters and demons.

“Sure! I’d love to help.”

“Great, I’ll head out right away. See you in a few minutes?”

“Sounds great. See you soon.”

“Bye!”

“Bye.”

Tara glowed as she hung up the phone. Willow was coming over. The concerns she’d voiced to her mother suddenly paled in comparison. What mattered now was that Willow was on the way, and the thought made her giddy.

A quick glance in the mirror quenched Tara’s joy. Her hair was down and untidy from lying on the floor, and the old baggy sweatshirt that she’d worn to lunch had a dribble of salad dressing on the front. Quickly, she peeled it off and went to the closet to grab a top that matched her pants. It had warmed up since the morning’s cold rain, and so she felt comfortable grabbing a short-sleeved shirt. Then, put on two thin chokers and a few bracelets from their hooks on the inside of her closet. Finally, she brushed the static electricity out of her hair and twisted it up into quick knot.

Just as Tara turned to check her appearance in the mirror, there was a knock at the door. Foregoing the chance to examine how she looked, Tara moved to the door instead.

Tara beamed as she opened the door to find Willow bouncing gently in place in the hallway, a blue duffle bag over her shoulder.

“Hi.”

“Hi-ello.” Willow dropped her head, and her gaze with it, partway through the word. Tara looked down, concerned that she’d picked a shirt with a stain or a hole, as she hadn’t looked at anything other than the color of the shirt. She was surprised to discover that she’d selected one of the lower-cut shirts that she owned.

“Uh, Willow?”

“Hmm? What?” Willow looked up to Tara’s face and then around at her surroundings. “Oh. Oh! Sorry.” Tara smiled. Though it certainly seemed to have embarrassed Willow, the moment made Tara feel attractive to her, a most welcome feeling.

“Do you, um, want to come in?” Willow nodded, and Tara stepped back and out of the way.

“Not for long, though, because we need to get out there. But before we do, I should fill you in a little.” Tara closed the door, and Willow turned to face her. “And give you this!”

Tara looked down at Willow’s outstretched hands and saw a small, dark turquoise drawstring bag she hadn’t noticed before. It was about the size of a paperback book, and it was made of crushed velvet. Down the center of the bag was a strip of Celtic knotwork. “That’s very pretty. What’s the occasion?”

Willow laughed as Tara took the bag. “I’m glad you like the bag, but it’s mostly what’s inside that I need to give you.” Willow gestured toward the bed, and they sat down on it facing each other. Once comfortable, Willow reached to take the bag back. “Let me show you.”

“Sure.”

“This is a Willow-brand Sunnydale Protection Pack: patent pending.” Tara raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Okay, not so much with the patent part,” Willow confessed, which made Tara giggle. “Anyway, little miss spoil sport, let’s go over the contents. First off, a cross necklace.” Willow pulled out a three-inch tall silver cross of Celtic knotwork on a silver chain from the bag. “Now, I know you aren’t Christian, but these are still effective against vampires, so you should have one. I have one just like this. I almost never wear it around my neck. Instead, I usually keep it someplace you can’t see it, like tied to a belt loop and in a pocket, and I only bother at night. I like the knotwork ones the best, because they feel less Christian-y and more art-y.” Willow handed the necklace to Tara, who set it carefully on her knee.

“It is very pretty,” Tara said as she fingered the knotwork.

“Next we have holy water,” Willow continued, as she pulled a glass bottle out of the bag. It had a large label on the front that read “Holy Water” below a cross, and a rubber stopper in the top. “Holy water is effective against vampires, too. This kind of bottle is best because the stopper stays in when jostled if you’re running or knocked over, but comes out easily enough with a directed pull. The bottle is great for similar reasons: it’s sturdy enough that it doesn’t break in a pocket or bag, but fragile enough to break if you throw it at the ground or a gravestone or even a vampire, if you throw hard enough.” Tara nodded as she took the bottle. She loved how Willow had analyzed and optimized even this small thing. “If you ever need another one, you can get them at the Magic Box. Depending on the owner, they may or may not be out on display, but they always carry them. If you don’t see them, just ask. If the bottle isn’t broken, you can theoretically refill it at a Catholic church, but I’d rather buy a new one than risk someone catching me taking it.” Willow paused to remove another item. “Now, this next thing is a…”

“Scapula: a protection charm,” Tara finished as Willow pulled a small leather pouch on a leather cord out of the bag.

Willow nodded. “Yup. But smell—lavender!”

After a quick sniff, Tara discovered that the charm did indeed smell of lavender instead of the more familiar sulfur. “That’s really clever.” A close examination of the charm’s magical signature later, she added, “And potent, too. This is really good.”

Willow beamed at Tara’s praise. “I started making different scented ones about a year ago. I didn’t want my Mom to complain about me stinking up the house, so I started working on these.” Willow pulled her skirt up above her left ankle, and Tara spotted another charm tied there. “Mine’s mint.”

“Here we have a stake.” Willow pulled out a ten-inch piece of wood that was sharpened to a point at one end, and Tara began to wonder how everything had fit into the small bag; it hadn’t been at all bulged when Willow originally handed it to her. “Now, it’s really hard to dust a vampire without a slayer’s strength and accuracy, but it can be done in a pinch. Mostly I carry them so I have one to throw to Buffy if she needs it, not to do the staking myself. But it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Tara took in the items spread on the blanket in front of her: they were the swords and shields of the world Willow inhabited, and now Willow was sharing them with her. Tara couldn’t help but be moved. “Thank you.”

“Now, if you have to go out at night, you should at least have the cross and the scapula on you,” Willow said, pointing to the named items. “If you have to be out long, be sure to take the other two with you as well. But don’t fight unless you’re trapped. It’s better to run, okay?”

“I will.” No desire to fight vampires here, particularly alone.

“Oh, one last thing.” Willow put her hand in the small bag again, and pulled out a cardboard box. “Last time I was at the magic shop I saw these, and they made me think of you. So, here.” Tara looked down at the offered box and discovered it was a set of Olympus Tarot cards. She opened the box and looked quickly at a few of the cards, each depicting an idea from Greek mythology.

“Thank you. These are gorgeous.”

Willow smiled. “I hoped you’d like them.”

Tara looked at the size of the cards, and then back to the other things Willow had pulled out of the bag. Like Mary Poppins’ bag, there was no way they should have fit, not between the stake and the cards. “Willow, how did all those things fit in that bag?”

Willow’s grinned like a maniac, and handed Tara the bag. “Look inside.” She did, and was very surprised that she could see a spell signature on the lining of the bag.

“How did you . . . ?”

“It’s what Xander likes to call a ‘bag of holding’ for some reason. The spell on the liner makes the bag bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.”

“But I can’t see the spell from the outside.”

“Right! See, this bag was made as a masking device, so you can’t see magical items that are inside. But the liner of the bag was just plain cloth, and I could still enchant it. So I made it into a bag of holding that isn’t detectable as one unless you can see the inside. This is my first confirmation that the masking works against second sight, not just detection spells.” Willow grinned, her tongue pushed out between her teeth. She was obviously proud of herself.

“Glad I could help.”

“Oh! Don’t turn the bag inside-out, though. Or put anything sharp in there. It’ll break the enchantment. Or possibly start sucking everything in sight into the pocket dimension the bag accesses. I’m not sure.”

“No sharps, no inside out. Got it.”

“Now, most of that gear won’t help with what I need to do for Buffy today. The protection charm might, so you’ll want that.” Tara began to tie her protection charm around her ankle to match Willow’s. “So, today we’re looking for Faith. Our anti-vampire arsenal won’t help, because Faith is a slayer.”

“A slayer? Like Buffy?”

“Yes, except for the part where she’s evil.”

“Evil? I thought slayers were human.”

“Oh, the bitch is human alright. She’s just also evil. She’s murdered at least two people that I know about, poisoned Buffy’s ex-boyfriend, not to mention holding me hostage and very nearly slitting my throat.”

At first, Tara was surprised to hear Willow speak with such palpable disdain for someone, but then she blanched at the thought of someone hurting Willow. “A-and, we’re looking for her?”

“Yeah. See, she was in a coma, ever since just before graduation last May, but she woke up last night. We need to find her and deal with her before she hurts someone.” Willow stood, and offered a hand to Tara. “Buffy’s searching the rest of town, but I said I’d help with campus until it gets dark and dangerous for non-slayer types. You still in?”

“S-sure.” Tara didn’t feel nearly as excited or confident as she had when she’d originally agreed to help, but wasn’t willing to back out. She looked down at her hastily constructed outfit before asking, “Um, so, are my clothes okay? For evil-slayer hunting?”

“They’re fine.” Willow smiled. “It’s not like my outfit is carefully picked for Faith-hunting. I mean, based on careful observation of Buffy, there’s no rhyme or reason to what makes a good patrolling outfit. I wonder if her wardrobe confuses the commandos; they're always in camo. So, ready to go?”

“Yeah.” As Tara took Willow’s hand and began to stand, she noticed the duffle bag on the floor. “What’s in the other bag?”

“The other . . . oh, that.” Willow looked down at her feet. “Well, you said before that you had a drawer you could loan me, so I brought some things with me. Clothes and stuff. But Riley came back last night, and he said that that the Initiative doctor guy was right, and that the Initiative wasn’t after us. My room is safe and all, so if you don’t want to--”

“Willow.” Tara squeezed Willow’s hand. She didn’t want this to turn uncomfortable, as it had last time. That Willow wanted to take her up on the offer, despite having her own bed to sleep in again, dissipated some of the fear Tara had felt about Willow’s recent absence. “The drawer is still yours if you want it. I told you, you’re always welcome here.”

Willow looked up at Tara with a smile. “Thanks.” With a tug on Tara’s hand, Willow started toward the door. “We should head out now, though. We can take care of that after dinner.”

As she had before, Willow gave Tara’s hand a squeeze before dropping it as they reached the door. It didn’t bother Tara; instead, she was just happy Willow had felt comfortable taking the offer of the drawer. She locked the door, and started towards the stairs. “So, where are we heading?”

“Oh, just around campus. The big concern is populated areas, so we’ll stick to those. We don’t want any innocent people to get hurt.” Willow turned to smile at Tara, and brushed her elbow with a hand. “Thanks again for coming with. Hunting a psychopathic super-bitch is definitely in the ‘above and beyond’ department.” As they descended into the lobby, Willow appeared to take in the crowd.

“It's okay. Really. So, um, . . .” Tara scanned the lobby, “ . . . what do we do if we find her?” She hadn’t wanted to ask too many questions before they set out, lest it deter Willow from their adventure, but Tara couldn’t imagine what it was the two of them could do against a slayer.

“Run. Flee. Maybe skedaddle.” Tara listened carefully, taking in Willow’s advice. “We’re not here to engage. This is strictly recon.” Engage? Recon? She tried not to smile, but the military-sounding words didn’t seem quite right coming from Willow.

“What?” There she goes, being perceptive again.

“You said ‘recon,’” Tara confessed. “You're like, cool monster fighter.” It was just funny. Plus, my not-girlfriend is way cool.

“Well, technically, Faith isn’t a monster. And as far as fighting, I'd be lucky to bruise her fist with my face.”

“Oh.” Tara’s face fell, not too keen on the whole ‘violence’ aspect of the day’s activity.

“What?”

“Face punching . . . I’m not good with the whole . . .” Tara tried to punch at the defenseless air in front of her, which seemed to amuse Willow.

“Swimming?”

With a glace to her ineffective fists, Tara explained. “Violence.” Not like I ever returned Donny’s punches. I could barely block them, really.

“Don’t worry,” Willow reassured with a gentle touch to the wrist that made Tara’s heart pound. “We’re sure to spot Faith first. She's like, this cleavage-y slutbomb walking around going ‘Oh, check me out, I'm wicked cool, I'm five-by-five.’” Willow gesticulated wildly as she described and their target and then imitated her in a derogatory voice.

“‘Five-by-five?’ Five what by five what?”

“That’s the thing—no one knows.” Willow shook her head. “Buffy can handle Faith, and you’re plenty safe with me.” Safe. Tara nodded. Willow meant safety.

“So, we ‘recon’ ‘til nightfall?” Tara asked in her best imitation of Willow’s military jargon. In an effort to resist the urge to touch, she clasped her hands behind her back.

Willow nodded. “Then the ritual hiding begins.”

Hiding? Eek. Tara tried to reign in her concern, grateful that Willow no longer faced her and instead scanned the crowd.

“So, other than ‘cleavage-y slutbomb,’ is there anything else I should know about what Faith looks like?”

“Dark hair. About as tall as me. Last seen wearing about an hour ago in a short blue shirt jacket over a black shirt. Oh, and black pants.”

“And if we find her, how do we let Buffy know? Does she have a cell phone?”

Willow laughed as she led them outside. “I wish. I looked into Buffy getting a cell phone a couple years ago. Turns out, you can’t get a cell phone signal in Sunnydale. It’s this little black hole of doom in terms of a cell signal. No one will build cell phone towers around here. Must be all the monsters.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Buffy’s mom has a cell phone for her work—she works at the art gallery on Dubuque Street—but it doesn’t work in town. She can only use it when she’s traveling. The gallery pays for it, or she wouldn’t even bother. It’s useless 90% of the time.”

“W-wow. Too bad.”

“I know, right? Of all the people in the world that actually could use a cell phone, Buffy’s at the top of the list. But can she use one? Noooo.” Willow made a small disgruntled noise that Tara thought was absolutely charming. “The military has something set up though, because Riley has a working cell phone. So not fair. Stupid world. Some of us civilians have to live on the Hellmouth, you know.”

Tara couldn’t help but chuckle: Willow was particularly cute when she was indignant.

“What? We do! Okay, I didn’t have to, but I do anyways.”

“I know. You’re just being . . .” adorable. Unable to finish the sentence, Tara looked down and away, not sure what to do if Willow pressed her. It was time for a change of topics. “So, um, my exam went well.”

“Oh yeah? That’s good. It was for English, right?”

“Yeah, ‘History of the English Language.’ My ‘Introduction to Linguistics’ professor from last semester teaches it. H-he’s really great.”

They continued to talk about school as they wandered all afternoon. Willow spoke about her classes, but not in the animated and enthusiastic manner to which Tara was so accustomed. As they talked, Willow guided them through the areas of campus most popular with students on the weekends; the tour favored coffee joints and the union over buildings with classrooms. Tara wasn’t confident she’d be able to spot Faith based on the description Willow had given her, but felt she’d be able to spot a commotion. Faith sounded like someone who would cause a commotion.

“C’mon, let’s go make one last sweep by Lake LaVerne, and then go to dinner, okay?” Willow pointed in the direction of the lake, but Tara’s attention focused on Willow’s right hand. It gently encircled Tara’s wrist, and the thumb softly stroked the underside of it before Willow gave it a squeeze and let go. There’s another. As Willow led them north toward the lake, Tara’s mind raced. The touches had been small, innocuous, and totally out of character for Willow. They were nothing compared to what happened behind closed doors, but they were in public. Willow didn’t touch her in public. Yet this last touch, the gentle brush along the inside of her wrist, felt deeply intimate. Tara was sure she wasn’t putting too much stock into these little touches: Willow stayed outwardly composed, but her aura blushed as embarrassed and nervous as though she’d just pushed Tara up against a tree and kissed her senseless.

“So, um, you said Riley’s okay?” Tara tried to get Willow talking again in an effort to rescue her from her nervousness.

“Oh, yeah.” Willow nodded enthusiastically. “Buffy’s relieved, which makes everyone’s life better. It’s pretty amazing that he’s up and walking, given he was skewered by that Adam thing. Did I tell you that the thing Walsh made is called Adam? I can’t remember. Anyway, it is. But yeah, it sounds like the government was pumping Riley full of drugs, and he’s healing super-fast. Not as fast as Buffy would, but faster than us normal mortals. So I guess they did some good.”

“Slayers heal quickly?”

“Yeah, it’s part of the whole mystical slayer power package. I’ve seen her get gashes that a normal person would need upwards of 20 stitches to fix, and the next day it’s like it never happened. She can dislocate a joint, pop it back into place, and it’s good as new, strong as ever. I have yet to see her break a bone, despite the number of headstones with which she’s made close personal friends. It’s amazing. And it’s how Faith woke up.”

“How so?”

“The coma: she never should have woken up. Heck, she was wanted in murder investigations, and they didn’t even have her handcuffed to the bed in the hospital. The doctors were that sure she’d never wake up.”

“W-wow.” The more and more Tara heard about Faith, the more and more she was upset that Faith was in the same state as Willow, let alone small town.

They walked in comfortable silence the rest of the way to the lake, each with an eye on the students populating the campus.

When they reached the lake, Willow didn’t simply look around and start back toward the dorms, as Tara had expected. Instead, she began to walk around the lake. They’d walked about halfway around the lake when they came to a wooden footbridge over a creek that fed into the lake. The creek was frequently bone dry, but now it was still wet from the morning’s shower. Willow slowed as she set foot on the bridge, and stopped in the middle facing out toward the lake. Tara moved next to Willow, looked out over the water, and rested her hands on the railing. The nearest person was easily two hundred feet away, and it felt like they were alone.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Willow asked as she set her right hand next to Tara’s left, so the edge of their hands just touched.

“Yes. I’ve always liked lakes.” Tara expected Willow to move her hand quickly away, but was pleased to discover that it stayed exactly where it was. They stood looking at the water for several minutes. Tara reveled in the chance to stand with the woman she loved on the cusp of holding hands. Finally, Willow broke the silence with a whisper.

“What did you mean by ‘naughty thoughts’?”

What?!? Tara whipped her head around to face Willow, who still looked out over the water. Both their hands remained perfectly still.

“W-wh-what?” She’s asking me this? Here? Now?

“Your note. The one you gave me.” Even now, Willow continued to gaze at the lake. Her voice was just above a hush, but each word rang loudly in Tara’s head. “Friday night I looked up a translation spell.” Tara looked back out to the lake.

Silence.

“What did you mean?”

You, with the naked squirming. Me, with the making you squirm.

“Umm.”

“You needed to stop thinking ‘umm’?”

“No.”

“So what did you mean?” Even in a whisper, Willow sounded pleading, almost desperate.

You screaming my name as you come in my mouth.

“Uhh.”

Silence.

Tara took a deep breath and turned her whole body toward Willow, a move which pulled her hand away. “I’ll n-need s-some identification.”

Willow finally faced Tara, her face beet red. Confusion floated atop other feelings racing through her aura: trepidation, embarrassment, want, affection. “What? Why?”

“Th-that answer is r-rated NC-17. I n-need some ID that shows you’re o-of age.”

“Oh . . . okay.” Willow looked at Tara, her brow furrowed and lips in a slight frown. It had taken Tara a while to learn that this expression meant Willow was thinking and not upset; a critical piece of information at the moment.

Right, this isn’t incredibly awkward. What do I do now?

As explicit as they had been, the unspoken correct answers to Willow’s questions hadn’t swept Tara into a state of arousal; they felt distant, echoes from another time, a time when fantasy didn’t resemble reality. Instead, Tara found herself wrapped up in her confusion over what was going on with Willow. She couldn’t keep up with the emotions boiling through Willow, and she eventually gave up any attempt to pin them down. Instead, she waited for Willow to give her some sign of what to do, how to act. But Willow simply looked at Tara, apparently lost in thought.

Eventually, the cool evening made Tara shiver, and Willow responded instantly. “You’re cold. Let’s go get that dinner.” She gestured in the direction of Hillcrest, and they began to walk back in silence toward the warmth of the dorm.

Okay, who are you, and what did you do with Willow? First off, asking at all. Second, totally in public. Third, was I not clear Wednesday? Fourth, the part with Willow asking at all? Willow. What on Earth is going on? As they walked, Tara went over and over just how out of character Willow’s question had been, not to mention all the little friendly touches. Should I ask her what’s going on once we get back to the room? Do I just wait and see where this is going?

As they approached Hillcrest, Willow suddenly put her arm out in front of Tara. Tara felt a quick shove and stepped back, only to step off the security of the sidewalk. As her foot hit the muddy ground, Tara felt her foot slip. She grabbed Willow’s wrist for balance, but the next moment she found herself on the ground and in the mud. An instant later, she felt Willow collapse on top of her.

“Oof.”

“A-are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Sorry I pushed you. And fell on you.” Willow pushed herself off to the side and looked down. “And got us both muddy.”

“It’s okay. What happened?”

“Oh, I thought I saw Faith. I didn’t want her to see us.” Willow sat up. “But, it wasn’t her.” She shook her head. “Man, it wasn’t even her, and I’m still in full-on needing to chant ‘raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens’ mode.”

Tara smiled. “‘Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens’?”

“Exactly!” Willow smiled broadly. “So, you like ‘The Sound of Music’?”

“Of course.”

“That’s so cool! I spent a lot of years hanging out with Xander and Jesse, and they were hard to get to sit down in front of a musical.” Willow stood, planting her feet back on the sidewalk before she offered Tara a hand.

“How very manly of them.” Tara stood with Willow’s assistance and looked down at their mud-spattered clothes.

Willow seemed to notice Tara’s assessment. “Here, turn around. Let me see the damage.” Trying not to notice the passers-by, who were starting to take notice, Tara obliged. “Well, your hair’s okay, at least. Clothes, not so lucky. At least they’re not torn. How about me?” Willow spun around.

“Same.”

“Well, at least we’re next to the dorm. We can change clothes before we go to dinner.” At the mention of the dorm, they began to walk towards Tara’s room.

“And we missed the sidewalk.”

“Ew. Yeah, that could have been painful.” Willow looked over Tara again and winced. “Particularly since I fell on you. I am really sorry.” As they entered Hillcrest, Willow caught Tara’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze before dropping it. For that moment, Tara was oblivious to the dozens of people staring at them, immune to their amusement at her misfortune. As soon as it was gone, however, that attention became rapidly uncomfortable, and Tara hastened toward her room. Willow picked up speed to keep pace without comment.

As Tara entered her room, she realized there was a problem: they both needed to change. Though she’d be perfectly comfortable to change around Willow, (not to mention rather happy to watch Willow change), Wednesday night had taught her to be overly cautious about what could make Willow uncomfortable. “So, I’ll, um, grab some clothes, and, uh, change in the bathroom, then.”

“No, you don’t have to do that.” Willow looked down and shuffled her feet. “I mean, if you don’t want.” Eyes still downcast, she took a step toward Tara. “If you wanted, I could, um, help? With the, uh, changing. You know, of the clothes?” As her voice went up to form the question, it took on a distinctly hopeful tone.

“Wi--”

“Or not. If you don’t want.” Her voice stepped back from her previously eager tone, and her feet quickly followed suit.

“Wil--”

“I’ll just, uh, grab my bag, and uh, change in the bathroom, because hello, your room, you shouldn’t have to--”

“Willow.”

Finally, Willow looked up. “Yeah?”

“I would love some help.” Tara stepped to Willow, and cautiously brushed Willow’s hands with her own.

“Really?” Hope lit up Willow’s face as she took Tara’s hands and used them to pull her closer.

Oh good, I guess it was okay.

“R-really.” Tara’s knees felt like they were about to fail when Willow’s lips brushed her own. “W-we wouldn’t want the room to get all muddy, would we?”

“Right, because muddiness is bad. I’ve gotten enough of your stuff muddy for one day. Least I could do is help keep your room clean.”

“Exactly.” Tara stood and waited for Willow to act, reluctantly eager at the prospect of the offer. But Willow just stood and watched Tara back. Hesitantly, they watched each other for several minutes, until Willow’s stomach grumbled.

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

“For my tummy rumblings spoiling the mood?”

“Ah.” Tara nodded. “The mood of ‘too afraid to act?’”

Willow squirmed a little and offered a tentative smile. “Um. Yeah. That one.”

Tara chuckled. “It’s okay.” She leaned in and whispered, as if relating a deep secret, “I am, too.”

“Well, that’s silly. I told you I wanted to help.”

Skeptical, Tara raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t I accept?”

“Well, yes.” With a shake of her head, Willow laughed. “Okay, I guess I’m being silly, too.”

“I’d argue sillier.” Willow opened her mouth, but Tara continued. “So, are you going to stand there and argue, or are you going to help me take off my clothes?”

“Clothes,” Willow nodded. “With the clothes.”

“And here I was worried you’d want to do both at the same time.”

“Actually, that was my plan, to start arguing once I’d start--”

“Willow,” Tara warned.

“I, uh, should probably just shut up and kiss you now, huh?”

“Yes.” Willow leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against Tara’s lips, but her stomach rumbled once again. Tara laughed. “It sounds like we should get you to dinner.”

Willow looked away, embarrassed. “Again, with the sorry. I spent a good chunk of the morning looking for Faith, too. Psycho-hunting makes a girl hungry.”

“C’mon.” Tara pulled Willow toward her closet. “I’ve got a bag we can put these in until we can wash them.” She reluctantly pulled away from Willow, reached into her closet, and pulled out a cloth bag. “Here.” Lifting her arms, Tara looked expectantly to Willow again.

“Right.” Willow cocked her head to the side and looked down towards the mud. “I think the best bet is if I . . .” Willow grabbed the shoulders of Tara’s shirt, and slowly pulled it up, “ . . . do that!”

Tara looked down at herself as Willow put the shirt in the bag. The way Willow had removed the shirt, the mud had stayed on it, as opposed to getting smeared everywhere. “Impressive.”

“Right! This way, we can just go to dinner, instead of stopping for showers.”

“Think you can pull the same trick with the pants?” Tara asked, trying to ignore the implications of her question.

“Hmm, yeah. Boots need to come off first, though.” Before Tara could move, Willow dropped to her knees and began to undo Tara’s laces.

Not having oral sex thoughts. Not having oral sex thoughts.

“There, you should be able to kick them off now.” Willow tapped Tara’s right foot. “Up.” Tara lifted the indicated foot, and Willow tugged the boot off before repeating the action with the left. When she stood, Willow couldn’t seem to look Tara in the face; instead, she watched her hands as they fingered Tara’s belt loops.

“Um, the button’s more towards the middle.”

Finally, Willow looked up. “Right. Middle.” Her fingers continued their attentions on the belt loops.

“Y-you don’t have to . . . I mean, you helped with the shirt. I can do the rest myself.”

“No, I want to. It’s just . . .” Willow let out a small frustrated sigh. “You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Willow.”

“Yeah?”

“I am going to change.” Tara moved her own hands to the button on her pants. “You can turn around, or watch, or help. W-whatever you want, so long as it doesn’t involve opening the door while I’m not wearing a shirt. O-okay?”

“Ack. But-but, uh, oh.” Willow sputtered. “Meanie.”

“Uh, how I am I mean?”

“See, I was being all unsure and hesitant, and then you went and pressed the point.” It looked like Willow was trying to pout, but her smiling eyes ruined the effect.

Tara smiled. “Dinner closes in half an hour. I’d like to make it.”

“You think I’d stand here indecisive for over thirty minutes?”

“You’re stalling.” A guilty smile on her lips, Willow nodded. “I’m changing now.” Not thinking, just doing. Right. Tara looked Willow in the eye, and slowly undid the button on her pants.

“Hey! Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah.” Willow batted Tara’s hands away. “That’s my job.”

“So . . . .”

“Right. Pants. Pants are easy. I can do pants. I know how to do this.” Tara watched as Willow lowered her zipper and tugged down on waistband. As she bent down slightly to give Tara enough room to get out of the pants, Willow planted her face between Tara’s breasts. “Mrph. This was not actually intentional, I swear.” Tara sighed happily, but nevertheless steadied herself on Willow’s shoulders and stepped back out of her pants and, regretfully, away from the soft feel of Willow’s face on her chest.

“So, those can go in the bag with the . . . .” Tara’s voice trailed off as she realized Willow’s eyes had locked onto her thighs.

“Oh. Wow.”

“Um.” The attention, welcome as Tara thought it would be, made her feel open and exposed. The stark contrast between Willow, fully clothed, watching her stand in her underwear was palpable. Folding her arms across her chest, Tara looked down and stepped back toward her closet. “W-we should get down there.”

“Tara?” In her peripheral vision, Tara saw Willow’s head snap up, and felt Willow watch her in a totally different way. They stood in silence for several moments, Tara unable to meet Willow’s eyes, before Willow stepped back as well. “Alright. I’ll just . . . I’ll put these away, and then I’ll change over here, and you can finish changing, and we can go to dinner. Okay?”

“Y-yeah.” As she turned to her closet, Tara heard Willow drag the bag of muddy clothes toward the center of the room. Hastily, she pulled on a new outfit, but stayed facing her closet as she heard Willow change behind her. As something to do while she waited for Willow to finish changing, Tara idly unclasped her necklaces, trading them for new ones. See, that was not an example of emotionally pulling back. Though, it wasn’t initially intended as emotional exposure. If I’m going to have a physical relationship with a straight girl, I can’t conflate the physical and the emotional. Even if the motivation for the physical is emotional. Those aspects of their relationship were like a rope of copper and tin: intertwined but separate without the heat to forge them into bronze.

“Tara?” Tara felt a gentle tap on her shoulder, and turned to see Willow dressed in fresh clean clothes. “Do you, um, do you want to go down?” Her eyes went wide. “Stairs! Downstairs.” She hung her head for a moment, before looking back up. “Okay, strike that. Start over. Do you want to go to dinner?”

“Yes, let’s.” Willow’s embarrassment at the unintended innuendo made Tara feel more at ease; she wasn’t the only one in an uncertain and delicate emotional space.

“Oh, before we go, I should wash this.” Willow held up the necklace she’d worn out. “I got some mud on it changing my shirt.”

Once Willow washed the necklace and set it to dry, they headed out the door and to dinner, and Tara tried to initiate a neutral conversation. “So, um, did you like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?”

“Yeah, I’ve read it a bunch. Why?”

“Oh, when you said ‘strike that,’ it reminded me of Willy Wonka, and the part where he says--”

“‘So much time and so little to do. Wait a minute. Strike that. Reverse it.’ That bit?”

“Mmhmm,” Tara nodded.

“Yeah, when I was little, I had this problem where I thought faster than I could talk, and ideas would come out backwards, so I tried to use that phrase to self-correct after I heard what I’d said. Only, it didn’t work so well, because then I would just keep talking, and Xander couldn’t both manipulate the words that had gone by and listen to the new ones at the same time. That makes perfect sense, because language processing is serial and all. But it didn’t end up doing me much good.”

“Had?”

“‘Had’? Had what?”

“That problem. You don’t think faster than you can talk anymore?”

“Oh, yeah, that sure I do, but I’m better at putting things in the right order as they get sent to my mouth. But that doesn’t stop me from establishing false choices or anything . . . as just demonstrated,” Willow admitted as she offered an embarrassed smile.

“That’s okay. It’s . . .” cute, “neat.”

Willow blushed a little, and held open the door to the dining hall. After they paid their way in, they agreed to meet in their usual corner, and went their separate ways to get their meals.

Tray in hand, Tara took her usual seat with her back to the wall, and was surprised to see Willow come up to her side of the table. “Scooch over?”

“Um, okay.” Tara slid deeper into the booth.

“Thanks. I doubt we’ll see Faith here in the dining room, but in case she makes her way in here, I don’t want her to be able to come up behind me. Particularly since I did hit her earlier.”

“Y-you hit Faith?” From Willow’s description of slayers, Tara was uncertain as to how Willow could have hit one, while from her description of Faith, Tara was uncertain as how Willow was still in one piece after doing so.

“Yeah! So, this morning after the rain stopped I met up with Buffy to hunt for Faith, and we found her. They fought for a bit before the cops showed up and made Faith take off. But during the fight, I hit her with my backpack!” Willow smiled triumphantly, and gently took Tara’s left hand under the table.

“Uh.” Tara stared at her, as confusion over Willow’s behavior battled for supremacy with feelings of pleasure and happiness over the gesture. Words. Focus. “Good for you.”

“Did you know I was born ambidextrous?” Willow innocently asked as she picked up a slice of pizza with her left hand. “When I learned to write, my teachers made me learn with just my right hand, but it means I’m not as strongly right-handed as a lot of people.”

“Y-yeah?” Tara tried to focus on what Willow was saying, but was distracted by the feel of Willow’s thumb softly rubbing the back of her hand.

“Really. It really came in handy the summer before sixth grade. See, Jesse had these two trees in his front yard, so he, Xander and I built tree houses in them, and made a zipline go between the two. I was scared to use it, but after I watched them use it a bunch of times, I decided it would be okay. The first time I tried it, my hand slipped when I was over the sidewalk, and I fell on my right wrist. It pretty much shattered. The doctor said it was the worst break he’d ever seen.”

“Wow. Not a record you want to set.”

“No, not really. So I had to be in the cast for approximately forever, and then I had to do lots of physical therapy. But in the mean time, I found it a lot easier to write and eat and everything with my left hand than to try to use my right hand too much. Not because I couldn’t hold things with my right hand, because I could, but because using it much made it hurt.”

“I bet.”

“It wasn’t any fun, but it gave me a chance to develop the manual dexterity in my left hand.”

“Which just sounds funny, since the root for ‘dexterity’ means ‘right’.”

“Next you’re going to say that I’m being all sinister, just because I’m eating with my left hand? Ooh,” Willow waved her left hand, and her pizza, excitedly, “or maybe ‘sinister-curious,’ because I’m right-handed most of the time . . . and I’m going to sit here and pretend really hard that that was an okay joke to make and how are the carrots?”

“More than okay. I think it’s clever,” Tara pointed at the aforementioned carrots. “They’re kind of mushy. How’s your pizza?”

“Ugh, cooked veggies should not be mushy. I mean, if you’re going to cook vegetables, the cooking processes should make them better, since so many can be served raw and still be delicious. Though, Giles actually likes mushy peas, which is just weird. But the pizza’s okay. It’s not take-out, but it’s not bad. Makes the whole Faith thing feel more real.” Tara gave Willow a questioning look, and she explained. “Oh, see, whenever we do the Scooby research thing, we get pizza for lunch and dinner, and doughnuts for breakfast. It’s kind of a tradition.”

“Oh.” Tara sighed quietly. Them.

“You used to be able to get food delivered in Sunnydale, which was a lot more convenient. But sometime in high school everywhere stopped offering it. Sometimes, a new place will open or management will change, and they’ll offer delivery at first. Two weeks later, they invariably stop.”

“Why do you suppose that is?”

“Vampires,” Willow answered casually, and Tara looked at her surprised. “See, they’ll order a pizza, but then eat the delivery boy.” Willow paused for a moment before she added, “I wonder if they ever eat the pizza.”

“Oh.”

“The last place pizza place I remember that tried the delivery thing stopped . . . right after Faith got into town, actually.” Willow took a big bite out of her pizza. “Stufid Face,” she grumbled, mouth full.

“Um, ‘stupid face?’”

Willow shook her head “no,” and held up a finger as she actually chewed and swallowed her food. “I said, ‘stupid Faith.’ I mean, she just came into town, and lured us all in with her stories and her confidence and her ‘not being mopey about stabbing her boyfriend and sending him to some sort of hell dimension.’ The next thing you know, Buffy likes her more than me, and Xander’s off having sex with her and then she starts killing people.”

The dejected look on Willow’s face combined with the tenseness Tara could feel in Willow’s hand led Tara to the decision to ask, “Do you want to talk about what happened?” Willow nodded, and began the story of her senior year of high school.

For her own sake, Tara would rather talk about any topic aside from Willow’s friends. While their adventures were certainly fascinating to hear about, the stories were a constant reminder of how separate Tara was from the rest of Willow’s life. It didn’t bother her that Willow had other friends; that was only natural. It didn’t bother her that Willow felt the need to keep the physical part of their relationship a secret; she believed what Willow had said about being confused, not ashamed. What bothered Tara was that Willow seemed to keep Tara’s very existence a secret: the times Tara had heard Willow call to check in and report on her safety, she hadn’t said “I’m staying with my friend Tara,” but instead claimed to be staying at the library. Particularly after the stress and fears of the past couple of days they’d spent apart, Willow’s stories of her friends were emotional water torture, each mention of Buffy or Xander another drop on her heart. But a chance to vent was what Willow needed, and it was something Tara could give.

Tara let Willow talk about the previous year, how Faith had showed up and messed with “her people,” for the rest of dinner. In fact, Willow seemed much more bitter and resentful over how Faith had disrupted friendships and mistreated her friends than over the events Tara found more disturbing: Faith holding Willow at knifepoint. So much of the narrative focused on Willow’s feelings of abandonment, but at the same time Tara marveled at how dedicated Willow was to the same people who had inadvertently hurt her.

When Willow finished, they returned to Tara’s room. Willow was unusually quiet and pensive, and when she settled onto Tara’s bed to stare at the ceiling, Tara let her be. Meanwhile, Tara took the opportunity to flip through the tarot cards Willow had gotten her and think about what Willow had told her. It amazed Tara how when Willow loved (and it was clear that her feelings for her friends was love) that she loved so completely and so deeply.

“I wonder where she is.” Willow broke the minutes of silence.

“Who? Faith?” Tara had never known Willow to ponder Buffy’s--or anyone else’s--location, even when the threat of Adam and the Initiative loomed large. Faith was the only thing that had perturbed Willow like this.

“Yeah . . . I wish she would make a move. She’s making my stomach all acidy.”

Willow had been so put off all day, and Tara wanted to put her at ease. Not that a hateful psychopath running around Sunnydale was exactly comforting, but the best defense Tara knew of was out there right now. “But you think Buffy can handle her.”

Willow sat up before she continued. “I think so. But that doesn't mean Faith won't hurt someone else.”

Though Tara understood from their dinner conversation how uncomfortable and afraid Faith could make Willow feel, she didn’t understand why she was afraid now: Faith had no reason to look for her in Hillcrest. “Well, you should be safe. Nobody knows you're here.” Not even your extremely important friends. “I mean . . .” Tara stopped fidgeting with the cards as she clamped down an exasperated sigh, “. . . they don't even know I exist, right? I know all about them, but . . . .” A concerned look from Willow stopped Tara’s thought.

She felt Willow’s hand on her knee, accompanied by a soft “Hey,” which made Tara look down and regroup. No, that’s not what she needs right now.

“I-I mean, t-that's totally cool. It-it's good. It-it's better,” Tara backpedaled, occasionally nodding and gesturing with the cards in her hand throughout her lie.

“Tara, it's not like I don't want my friends to know you. It's just . . . .” It’s just what? “Well, Buffy's like my best friend, and she's really special.” Tara strained to smile as Willow once again glorified her friends. “And there's this whole bunch of us, and, and we sort of have this group thing that revolves around the slaying, and-and, I really want you to meet them. But I-I just kind of like having something that's just, you know, mine.”

Willow paused, and Tara let the words change her. She could feel her understanding of Willow shift: just enough that everything clicked into place. Buffy and Xander and Giles weren't just Willow's friends: they were her family. Willow wasn't nervous about introducing Tara to her friends: she was nervous about introducing Tara to her family. All her tales of their past weren't there to show Tara how separate she was from them; they were origin stories, there to show Tara how Willow became Willow. Tara's fears that she had emotionally over-exposed herself had blinded her to how open Willow had been that afternoon. The patrolling, the touches, the bridge, and yes, even the stories, were all Willow trying to let Tara in.

“And I, I usually don't se so many words to say stuff that little, but do you get that at all?”

“I do.” Tara reconsidered Willow's explanation with her newfound understanding, and found she had to disagree with Willow’s final point.

It wasn't little. It was huge.

It was the closest Willow had come to expressing how she felt about their relationship, how important she was. Tara mattered to Willow. The significance of the thing was not that Willow cared; Tara already knew that. No, this was more than that. It meant that Tara had a role to play in Willow's life. That this, their relationship, allowed Willow a safe space to be herself. Willow lived so much of her life for others, but Tara was an aspect where Willow could lead her life for herself. As much as Tara had needed her room as a child, Willow needed somewhere she could just be, somewhere that no one else could touch. Tara knew how powerful that could be, how that uniqueness could transform a mundane thing into something special. Something precious. Something sacred.

I should tell her how I feel. Not with words Willow couldn’t say back, because Tara didn’t want to pressure her like that, but something so that when Willow was ready, she would know. Tara looked closely at Willow as her mind raced for the right placeholder.

Before it came to her, the intensity of the moment seemed to get to Willow. “I should check in with Giles: get a situation update.”

It wasn’t until Willow stood and walked to the desk that something came to her. Without turning to face Willow, Tara grabbed the moment, before Willow picked up the phone and it was gone. “I am, you know.”

“What?”

Tara finally turned to look at Willow and let her heart spill onto her face.

In love with you.

“Yours.”

[Gaga01]

DIBS!!!

Awww, it was an awesome update!!! I really love how you depicted the girls, it feels so natural and genuine...Willow's struggling but she is getting there and she is letting Tara in through her struggle, so that's pretty amazing. Can't wait for the next chapter!!

As for your note, even if a big part of that story is great because it involves Willow and Tara, I really believe you could turn in into something more, like a novel or at least an essay or something, if you're not comfortable with writing a big ass book And, considering the main plot of this story, I sincerely think it could help people in whatever they're going through.

[Agilulfa]

Wonderful update!

[Morrigan]

Completely unsurprisingly, I love this update. But then I love this story, and have all along. I just haven't had time and energy to say much about it.

I love how you are exploring Tara. I know all too well, from experience, what being the hidden one can do to a person, how diminishing that can feel, how very much it can erode your ability to believe in your importance to the person you care about. You are giving the experience a realistic texture that also manages to establish that Tara is not really a doormat - she is simply willing to be grateful for what she can get, as much as she may regret what she believes she cannot have.

I actually like that you are bringing them to sex before the admission of love. Again, with the realism - it is difficult enough for someone who knows and is comfortable with her orientation to separate love and lust and intimate friendship - for someone re-examining her identity in the midst of so much other turmoil (Adam, changing friendships, the college life in general) such a task would be daunting at best. I am glad that Willow seems a bit hesitant about being sexual without being able to give more on the emotional level - but at the same time, the physical attraction has an urgency all its own, that can be very difficult to deny. And she is reaching out, showing affection as she can, in ways that are non-sexual, giving what she knows she can in all honesty.

Technically speaking - I love your writing, in and of itself. You transition so well between action and dialogue, something I struggle with as a writer, that I am a bit envious. You make it seem effortless, and keep the fluidity of story so very well.

There are a few typos in this update - This is one of those things that I always wish that people would point out to me, and that I am always embarrassed about when I go back later, having thought I caught them all, and finding them after people have left feedback and not mentioned them makes me wonder if there are other flaws they are also not mentioning. So, I bring them up in the spirit of saying - that's the only problem I saw with this update.

On process - You mentioned thinking about pulling the copyrighted material and turning this story into something marketable. I certainly believe you have the ability to write a saleable novel - I would invest in your work - but this story in particular would require a great deal of backstory build-up to make the kind of intrinsic sense it does in its current form. Here, you are filling in the gaps between what all of us already know to be the structural frame - were you to make this into an independent story, you would have to do all of the world- and character-building that Whedon&Co have done for us here. Not that I think you could not do it - just that it would require a great deal of work, and would change this story into a different one, by necessity. All that having been said? I would read it.

Thanks for this story - and I wait with bated breath for the next installment.

[Ariel]

Hi Kate!

Another QofH Update:

She doesn’t love me.” The quietly spoken words hung uncomfortably in the air, and Tara let them float there in deep silence for several minutes. “I don’t want it to matter, but it does. It doesn’t change how I feel about her, or what I would or wouldn’t do with her, but it does matter. I don’t even know if she can love me . . . but it hurts.

Loved Tara’s soliloquy: real, touching, and painful. Also love how just the sound of Willow’s voice sends her to joy again – so real!

Love ALL the details about Willow’s protection bag and the pocket dimension inside. Lovely bit of humor and I get a kick out of the fact that Willow’s scent is mint and she gives lesbian Tara lavender.

“You said ‘recon,’” Tara confessed. “You're like, cool monster fighter.” It was just funny. Plus, my not-girlfriend is way cool.

“Well, technically, Faith isn’t a monster. And as far as fighting, I'd be lucky to bruise her fist with my face.”

“Oh.” Tara’s face fell, not too keen on the whole ‘violence’ aspect of the day’s activity.

“What?”

“Face punching . . . I’m not good with the whole . . .” Tara tried to punch at the defenseless air in front of her, which seemed to amuse Willow.

“Swimming?”

With a glace to her ineffective fists, Tara explained. “Violence.” Not like I ever returned Donny’s punches. I could barely block them, really.

“Don’t worry,” Willow reassured with a gentle touch to the wrist that made Tara’s heart pound. “We’re sure to spot Faith first. She's like, this cleavage-y slutbomb walking around going ‘Oh, check me out, I'm wicked cool, I'm five-by-five.’” Willow gesticulated wildly as she described and their target and then imitated her in a derogatory voice.

“‘Five-by-five?’ Five what by five what?”

“That’s the thing—no one knows.” Willow shook her head. “Buffy can handle Faith, and you’re plenty safe with me.” Safe. Tara nodded. Willow meant safety.

Lovely use of dialogue, word for word accuracy yet adding the bit about Tara’s inability to block her brother’s punches and Tara’s reaction to Willow’s touches. Your additions make it sing with new music.

I should tell her how I feel. Not with words Willow couldn’t say back, because Tara didn’t want to pressure her like that, but something so that when Willow was ready, she would know. Tara looked closely at Willow as her mind raced for the right placeholder.

Before it came to her, the intensity of the moment seemed to get to Willow. “I should check in with Giles: get a situation update.”

It wasn’t until Willow stood and walked to the desk that something came to her. Without turning to face Willow, Tara grabbed the moment, before Willow picked up the phone and it was gone. “I am, you know.”

“What?”

Tara finally turned to look at Willow and let her heart spill onto her face.

In love with you.

“Yours.”

So well reasoned, so perfectly aligned with canon yet rich in its own right: first a harmony to canon’s melody, then again, an entirely new music. And that line: “and let her heart spill onto her face” is beautiful prose and very touching. Your choice to end on that word, without further comment is powerful. GREAT UPDATE!!!
Ariel
How I Met Your Mother
P.S. Glad to be your hair-tearing pal! Thanks for the kind words!

[zampsa19752001]

Yay for great update-y goodness... I loved how Tara figured out what Willow really meant with the touches and stories...

[DaddyCatALSO]

wow. Where to begin:

1- I can't help but be curious; is it actually a Keltic cross (my Mary Sue character Jared carries one of those) or just a Latin cross made in a Celtic knotwork pattern?

2- "bag of holding" Lol! I was never a palyer but I used to have an enormous collection of RPG books and supplements (wnet up with the house)

3- Wow again to Willow's comfort in asking her question on the bridge. And also in not pushing for an answer.

4- I will *not* go into the Freudian signifcance of mud, since I'm not a FReudian .

5-The "clothing imbalance"; that is used in so many movies, TV shows and novels as an easy-to-write set-up for a seduction; glad it wasn't one here where nothing is that easy.

6- Great explanation for why the Scoobs don't use cellular; it doesn't hold with things shown in earlier (and later!) seasons but but it's a great attempt to fill in the gap the writers never did.
And it's logical that delivery would be hard to get in Sunnydale, good local color. (and in a way Faith was repsonsible for Mr. Trick being in town so Willow's comment wasn't off.)

7-Great interpetation on your part of what Willow's final speech meant. And bravo for Tara's reading it so perfectly.

Le sigh; when I'm finally ready to start posting "Snapshots: a Love Story" I'll be including my own 2 little S-4 vignettes, which differ a bit plot-wise. but also, let's face it, next to the shining star of this wonderful fic, they'll look like a couple little MArtian moons. *grin

bobk

[LonelyTara]

Simply lovely.

[KnightlyLove]

ahhhhhhhhhHHH!

You have no idea how upset I have been for the last three days, trying and failing to find that beautiful alone space in which I can truly CONSUME this chapter. Finally I have, and oh my, it has totally lived up to expectations. Like, I don't want to be cliche about this, so I should stop before I gush all over and mess up a perfectly good post, but...

Once again I'm flabbergasted at how well you rehash the episode scenes, bringing new depth and meaning to everything - Willow's touch, the Tarot cards, the "yours" conversation... everything. It feels so fresh and... yummy.

hehe, I recognized that spoiler you gave during that chat session like three, four... five weeks ago? You barely wrote any more than that!

immediate edit:

Because you are an amazing, inspiring, very *natural* writer, I think you could take this story and make it into a excellent publishable writing (ie not violating copyrights). The more important question is whether it would be worth it for you to edit out all the Buffy references, which (while it wouldn't actually gut the thing) would really take out a lot of material, rather than simply writing a new story which revolves around the same themes and similar characters.
Personally, I read this story more because it's an AMAZING portrayal of two very adorable lesbians than because it's specifically a Buffy fanfic, and I think that's true of a lot of people on this site. We like sweet, sexy lesbians, and we enjoy good writing about them. It's just kind of convenient to revolve this community around the Buffy fandom - we obviously read and write mostly stories that AREN'T really Buffy-based.

Does that answer your question?

[love_2003]

Yeah for update-goodness. I love how Willow tells Tara she wants to help undress her and then gets all nervous about actually doing it; you wrote that part really well. I'm proud that Tara acted so calm on the bridge when Willow asked her the question about the note. Of course on the inside she was panicking but her demeanor on the outside was cool and collected. Also that Tara was able to read in between what Willow was telling her about her friends and why she hasn't introduced her to them yet.

[wayland]

Hi Kate,

Thanks for the update. I may, just, have forgiven you now for your April Fool. (When I saw the thread, there was anticipation…I made coffee!)

I love the way Tara abandoned her angsty analysis the moment she heard Willow’s voice.

I think your interpretation of the ‘Yours’ scene is lovely.

Willow paused, and Tara let the words change her.

This line seems so simple, but it resonates.

Tara finally turned to look at Willow and let her heart spill onto her face.

This is excellent.


For me, this chapter did not have quite the level of dramatic tension as those before. I’ve been trying to analyse why. It’s a long sequence restricted to Tara’s POV, for most of it she has no idea what Willow is thinking, (and therefore neither do we), and it felt as if Willow was less…present. Does that make sense?

I’m intrigued which point of view you’re planning for the next chapter. Maybe I find Willow more dramatic because she is so conflicted at this point?

If I were to burn Queen of Hearts to the ground and build something out of the ashes, would that interest you?
Do you ever want to hear me talk about what my writing means to me?
I tend to leave long, rambling responses to feedback: is that interesting?

Yes, to all of the above. (With the caveat re the first question that you don’t abandon this story, of course.) The conversation between writer and reader on this board is something I cherish.

What does the story mean to you: what do you think it’s about?
What things do you like to read about, and what things don’t you like?

In a nutshell – character. What motivates people to act as they do. When I first watched BtVS I did love Willow and Tara, but they weren’t necessarily my favourite couple on the show. It was only after I found the kitten board and read so many excellent stories, with such depth of characterisation, that I got really hooked. I wanted to read about them and even write about them because of the richness writers here gave to the characters. The range of interpretations, from Alcy’s jaded party animal Willow to EasierSaid’s closeted, anguished Willow, all ring true and that fascinates me.

Of course I also like action, humour, suspense, romance, etc, etc, but it’s characterisation that draws me in.

Clare

[Promthea128]

This fic is making me want to rewatch S4. There are so many moments that are wonderful.

Even the scenes that are canon, you make breathe new life into, and the original parts have the same excellence. Your interpertation of the events are awesome. I love that Willow gave Tara a vampire protection kit, that she needs her to be safe. And lol, bag of holding! Thank you for giving a valid reason for why no one had cell phones.

After a quick sniff, Tara discovered that the charm did indeed smell of lavender instead of the more familiar sulfur.

Doesn't the effect of spells/potions/charms change if you change ingredients?

“Next you’re going to say that I’m being all sinister, just because I’m eating with my left hand?

Not sure why this was amusing. Maybe cause I'm a sinister lefty?

The friendship, lust, love confusion feels real and believable, though I wouldn't know, I have absolutely no experience. I wish that they would wait until after NMR, when Willow is in love with Tara and able to say it out loud. But it is believable that they have sex around this time. I mean, the vile Joss-God said so, so its pretty much canon.


On Storytelling - I'm not sure what would be left of the story if you took out all the copyrighted content, but I would definately be interested in reading it if you decide to undertake the project. Discussion between the author and the readers is one of the cool things about fanfiction. Your mention of Vlogbros reminded me that I need to get back into that, so I'm off the watch John and Hank, and find out who Ze Frank is.

[lavenderangel]

I initially read this last week during finals, and it was quite possibly the best study break ever. I cannot express how much I love the depth you've given to Tara. Your prose are so, so lovely, and I think this could definitely work as a standalone novel. Plus, we need more literary lesbian fiction. I cannot wait for your next update. I will try to edit this post with more coherent feedback soon.

[BuffyFan4ever]

Great Update.

I don't know why I didn't comment sooner. I probably read this update during a short break, didn't have time to study, and then forgot.

Loved Willow's explanation about the "no cell phones" problem.

"See, Jesse had these two trees in his front yard, so he, Xander and I built tree houses in them, and made a zipline go between the two. I was scared to use it, but after I watched them use it a bunch of times, I decided it would be okay. The first time I tried it, my hand slipped when I was over the sidewalk, and I fell on my right wrist. It pretty much shattered. The doctor said it was the worst break he’d ever seen.”

Poor Willow At least hers was an accident. My left arm was broken because some idiot neighbor kid decided to jump on the treadmill box that I was using as a steamroller. Obviously I'm still bitter after 15 years. Which is ironic because at the time I forgave him, simply thankful that it wasn't worse.

Loved when Willow was explaining about why no place delivers. As DaddyCatALSO pointed out, Faith could be blamed for the Mr. Trick killing the last delivery guy. What's funny is that Willow isn't even aware that Trick was the one killed him. or that he was working for Kakistos.

Update soon. Or at least let us know if you have to abandon this story to write a book. Hopefully this isn't the case.

[KnightlyLove]

Uhhh Kate?
Where's the rest of this damn story? I hate you.
Love,
Rose

[BeMyDeputy]

Rose,

Where's the rest of this damn story?

In my noggin!

In brief:
Willow takes Tara to the Bronze. But it's totally not a date. Before they go there is a sexy flashback. And an explanation of what the hell was up with Willow in the previous chapter. When they get to the Bronze, Buffy is there. Willow freaks out. Willow goes to get Tara a drink. When she comes back, Tara is upset. Willow is sad. They leave.



Unless you want to come to my house and finish packing and clean the ever living shit out of it for the next week, that's what you get until I'm done moving.

I did write four pages of the story I'm going to do after this one!

And over 8000 words of feedback for the Flattery series!

And a rewrite I can't post!

I hate you.

I can tell. You said such very hateful things in your signature link, and put me in such amazing company. (I am deeply flattered, by the way.)

Love,
Rose

Aw, love you, too, Rose. Why for are you never in chat anymore?

[True_Love]

Your story was the first one I read on Pens a couple of months ago and it is still my go to story when I have spare time. I love your characterizations, especially Tara's discussions with her mother. Also, all the lovely plot filler. I know you have been busy moving and working on your other stories but, I love this one so much, I hope you continue to work on it. I actually have anxiety that you will stop and I was hoping you would at least take it to NMR.

Hope you are well and if you have the desire and time, please continue to update.

[Dr. J]

I love, love, love this story. Canon S4 fics hold a special place in my heart, and I think this one is my all-time favorite. Your characterization is so rich and nuanced, each part flows naturally with what we've seen on the show. You have a wonderful grasp of what makes each of them feel so real; every detail or bit of dialogue makes me go "Oh, of course this is what happened before/after/because of X." Also, I'm a complete sucker for language. I actually let a little squeak of happiness escape when I read the words 'eschew obfuscation' in the midst of Willow's highly entertaining meta-babble. So, please take it as my highest compliment when I say I'm dying for the next part. I'm even considering attempting to bribe you with future feedback if that would hasten its arrival. Which, for me, as a dedicated lurker, is saying something.

[JustSkipIt]

Katie - It has been pointed out to me that I'm behind on meaningful feedback to this story. Actually, I'm not sure I've ever left any meaningful feedback for you here. Well... let's see if we can't change that a bit.

Chapter 4 part 2: Unspoken - Again, I like the conceit you have here about Tara having these conversations with you mom. The truth is that I think it's important to human beings to have silent and private conversations with someone. It doesn't matter if it's a journal or G-d or another deity or a dead person. I think it's important to your emotional and mental processing to do so and I like to see the way it works with Tara. I also think it's sort of charming how Tara is in this thing of obsessively analyzing each action/inaction/word from Willow and she's doing it with her mom. Like ... for most people eek but it's a special relationship she has with her mom.

And then Willow shows up and Tara is just so available to her, which, really is about all she can do. I mean she's in love with Willow and if Willow doesn't get that, she's a moron (which evidence sort of contradicts) so once that cat is out of the bag (as it were) she might as well just ... be who is she is to Willow.

I love the bag of gifts Willow gives Tara. I'm also glad that Tara can see the import of the gifts. These are Willow's greatest gifts. Have you read A Prayer for Owen Meaney (one of my favorite books)? The part where Owen gives John his baseball cards? It's like that for whatever it is for a person. A mixed tape or a favorite book or a flower. Or in Stranger than Fiction where he gives her the flours. It's just so lovely that he is so crazy about her and he does this strange but wonderful and creative thing for her.

This is my first confirmation that the masking works against second sight, not just detection spells.” Willow grinned, her tongue pushed out between her teeth. She was obviously proud of herself.

“Glad I could help.”

Very cute.

Nice exposition on the Faith situation for Tara. Also on the cell phones. I was one of those people shouting at the TV screen for years that they all needed cell phones (and possibly cars or bicycles or skateboards). In that season that must not be named, when Buffy finally gives Dawn the cell phone we were literally cheering.

Nice inclusion of cannon here with the run/flee/skeedaddle - swimming conversation and acidy stomach etc.

They stood looking at the water for several minutes. Tara reveled in the chance to stand with the woman she loved on the cusp of holding hands. Finally, Willow broke the silence with a whisper.

“What did you mean by ‘naughty thoughts’?”

I'm torn between being proud and impressed with Willow's bravery in asking this and still wanting to throttle her just a little. It just... rings of a bit of teasing. She knows Tara's into her. That Tara wants her. Even that Tara loves her and she tosses this out there all casually. Ouch.

She couldn’t keep up with the emotions boiling through Willow, and she eventually gave up any attempt to pin them down. Instead, she waited for Willow to give her some sign of what to do, how to act.

On the other hand, Tara seems to be handling it better than I am so go Tara. Of course, maybe that's why I never liked dating straight girls...

“Exactly!” Willow smiled broadly. “So, you like ‘The Sound of Music’?”

Well who doesn't? I mean do you realize just what a phenomenon it is? Or how long it was at the top of the box office? Like 70 weeks or something. It would be unheard of today.

And once we get back to the dorm room my feelings are again somewhat conflicted. I still feel like Willow is being a tease but at least in the dorm room we can see and feel that complete deer-in-the-headlights terror that is gripping her and keeping her from being about to fall into what's happening between them. It's maddening but I have compassion for her as well.

I really like your take on Tara's thoughts/feelings/realization during the very classic "I am you know... yours" conversation.

“What?”

Tara finally turned to look at Willow and let her heart spill onto her face.



In love with you.



“Yours.”

I'll admit to you that I can remember the first time I saw this scene. I was cooking dinner and watching and Rachel and I were both talking to the TV like we do and she said "I am you know..." and I said "In love with you" and Rachel said "yours." She was right but mine agreed with yours I guess.









Ok, I've just fedback this chapter and realize that I was only missing one chapter of feedback. I'm not saying that the feedbacks to the previous chapters were award winning in their detail or anything like that but ... here we are and I declare myself caught up. Buhwahwahhaha!

[True_Love]

Shameless bump. Update soon. Pretty, pretty please.

[BeMyDeputy]

I told you, Lexi, by Christmas.

Crap, is today December 8th?

Um, and I leave for Michigan the 18th, which means limited internet access . . . and dlline probably has exciting Christmas plans . . . I really should get on that.

[beautiful_love]

So I don't know how I missed this fic for as long as I did but now that I've completely caught up I feel compelled to tell you how much I absolutely love it! I think this is actually my favorite in-between the scenes story and you write it so well. It's a completely different spin on what was portrayed and I LOVE your portrayal of Tara. Unsure but not comfortable still. And Willow with it being all new and exciting but still a little, well scary for lack of a better word. It's just really great to read and I know you're working on the next update but I can't wait to read it.

[BeMyDeputy]

Feedback replies: I am sorry to report that I do not have replies to feedback at this time. I am on vacation and going back and forth between my laptop, with a keyboard and a decent word processor, and my phone, with the internet access. I promise I will respond to your feedback as soon as I can.

Rating: NC-17
Feedback: I am genuinely interested in both positive and negative feedback on all of my writing, from emoticons to tearing the work apart. If you have something to say, please say it. If you’re concerned about posting critique publically for whatever reason, I am amenable to receiving it via PM.
Notes: The entirety of chapter 4, including ‘Experimenting,’ take place across the episodes “This Year’s Girl” and “Who Are You?”
Content disclaimer: Sex: yes. Angst: Yes. Violence: No.
I don’t own this disclaimer: The following is a work of fanfiction that takes place within the Buffyverse. The entire Buffyverse ( including setting, characters and plot) property of its owners, including but not limited to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The episode “Who Are You” was written by Joss Whedon. No copyright infringement is intended by this work. However, any material within not copyright any other party is copyright me.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to my awesome beta reader, dlline. I still can’t believe sent this to her the week before Christmas, with little warning, and she was able to pull this off for me. She also makes me crave a word processer where I can control-f for gerunds. That would make my life way easier.
Acknowledgements II: Thanks to wayland and Ariel for being great alpha readers, as well as sounding boards during this update’s stupidly long incubation. Bonus props to wayland for her constant nagging, without which I would never have made a public and irresponsible promise about getting this done in time for Christmas.


It’s been a while, and the first scene is primarily a flashback, making this terribly confusing. Let me take a moment to re-establish the timeline. 4.1 and the topless adventures that ended in Willow freaking out was Wednesday. Faith woke up from her coma on Friday. The events of 4.2 took place on Saturday. 4.3 begins after the meeting at Giles’, also on Saturday. Got it? Good.

Chapter 4 Part 3: Experimenting

Willow stared critically into the mirror for a long moment. Finally, pleased with what she saw, she nodded decisively.

“Yep. I look totally hot,” she announced to her empty dorm room.

For your date.

She frowned at the unwelcome, if internal, commentary. “This is totally not a date.”

Dancing? Bronze? The company of someone you want to see naked? Totally a date.

“Listen here, missy.” Willow shook her finger at her reflection in the mirror. “There may be date-ish qualities in play, but this is not a date.”

Which is why you carefully picked out a low-cut version of the shirt you were wearing in the laundry room for a top? Or why your skirt is one that reminds you of the one you had on the first time you kissed her? Sounds like date wardrobe to me.

“They’re Bronze clothes, thank you very much. I wore Bronze clothes to go there with Buffy. Those weren’t dates.”

And when you hoped to run into Xander?

Willow rolled her eyes. “Those weren’t dates either.”

But you wanted them to—

“I’m warning you. You want to drop that subject right now.”

Fine, fine. I give. Willow almost expected her reflection to lift her arms in surrender.

“Good.”

I mean, it's obvious. You’ve carefully picked your outfit to look hot for a girl. You've spent the entire day considering said girl as a potential sexual partner - all being completely orthogonal to whether or not you asking said girl to go dancing with you is a date.

“Darn skippy it is. Orthogonal, I mean.”

On that note, how’s your list coming?

Willow slid her hand into her left pocket, and her memories raced to the previous night as the tips of her fingers touched a slip of paper.

Willow woke with a start, the pounding of her heart loud in her ears and her breath hard and fast. Not instantly sure where she was, or why she lay on her back in the dark, instinct took over.

run.program(Danger!DangerWillRosenberg!)
Immediate threat detected Y/N?
N->GoTo Next
Proximal threat detected Y/N?
N->GoTo Next
Buffy nearby Y/N?
N->Increase Concern. GoTo Next
Evaluate(location)
Bed. Dorm room. Stevenson Hall. UaC Sunnydale.
Evaluate(probability(incoming.danger)given(location))
Low->GoTo End
Relax and assess

No longer concerned a vampire was in striking distance, Willow took the time to look around the room and try to remember what was going on. She seemed to be safe and sound in her bed. Her eyes strained in the dimly-lit room at the clock. 2:37. The room was dark: it must be 2:37 a.m. Nighttime.

That’s right. It was Friday night. Buffy wasn’t in her bed, which was bad; she was usually back from patrolling by now. No, wait. Riley had gotten out of the hospital today. Buffy was gone because she left the Scooby meeting with him. To explain who Faith was.

Faith.

If her brain could spit, it would have spat the name.

As the world came into focus, she realized her body hadn't calmed down any from her earlier panic. Though she didn’t instantly recall it, her lingering physical reaction was enough to tell her what it was. It must have been quite a nightmare: probably the one about Faith holding her at knife-point while throwing Buffy off the top of a building. Not something she wanted to remember anyways.

Willow pulled Mr. Snuggle Pupkins close, and moved to turn over. She had heard in psychology that a change in physical position decreased the likelihood of returning to the same dream.

“What the . . . ?” As Willow shifted in the bed, her attention snapped instantly to between her legs. “See, damp underwear is not a post-scary dream reaction. It's a post . . . wait a second.” Willow strained to remember what it was she had actually dreamt. And the moment she did, the moment she stopped to think instead of simply assuming, one thought filled her mind.

Tara.

Willow reached for the details of the dream, but the harder she worked to get them back, the faster they left. She was left with a blurred picture of the idea of being naked in bed with Tara, although she lacked any sense of what it would be like or what she would do once she got there. But like an Impressionist painting, the blurry picture in her mind certainly had an emotional effect: she was really turned on.

Willow's first thought was that her replacement psychology professor had been right about emotions being labels for physiological states, as she'd managed to confuse being horny and being terrified. Second came surprise; despite how fast the physical aspects of her friendship with Tara had developed, an erotic dream about her felt totally out of the blue. Finally, the begging and the pleading of her body to please take care of this caught her attention.

Though Willow generally resented her body when it made demands (because seriously, wasn’t it supposed to be subservient to her?), the idea sounded good. Really good.

As she gently tossed Mr. Snuggle Pupkins to the floor (so he faced the wall, of course), Willow took a deep breath. It had been a long time since she'd done this: she'd completely lost interest in masturbation since Oz had left. But now . . . now it felt like the best idea ever.

Slowly, she began to undo the buttons of her pajama top as she remembered how she'd done the same to Tara's shirt Wednesday night. The sounds Tara had made filled her head once more, and spurred her to work the buttons faster. When the top was finally open, Willow ran her fingers slowly down the line she'd paved with kisses along Tara's chest. As she reached her navel, Willow smiled as she remembered Tara's encouragement.

Willow let her hands drift back up to her breasts and cupped them gently. Even after such a short time exploring Tara's body, her own breasts didn't feel quite right. She liked the weight and the curve of Tara's breasts far better; they felt right in her hands. So instead of focusing on her memory of touching Tara, she instead focused on what it had felt like for Tara to touch her. The effect was instantaneous: a larger wave of arousal crashed through her.

As she played with her breasts, she avoided her nipples, instead she moved her fingers closer and closer and then, when they brushed areola, she moved them out and away again. After a few rounds of this teasing, she gave in and finally brushed her nipples with her fingertips.

She quietly groaned at the touch, impressed to discover how hard they felt after all the near misses. Impatient, she wet the thumb and forefinger of each hand before she pinched the stiff nipples, all the while remembering the feel of Tara's mouth on them. With the splendid combination of lips, tongue, and teeth, Tara had done the most amazing things to her.

Teeth. Willow shook her head in amazement. Teeth had to be kept strictly off the table with Oz. The risk was too great. There had been a few times with Xander when Willow had melted as teeth sank into her skin, but she’d always thought that it was because what they were doing was forbidden that caused such excitement. But Tara had provoked such a strong reaction, even just biting the soft inside of her wrist, or nipping the pads of her fingertips.

Thoughts of Tara smiling, Willow’s fingers between her teeth, were tantalizing enough to pull one of Willow’s hands down to her waist. She pushed her hand along the skin of her abdomen, under the waistband of her pajama bottoms. However appealing it was to become directly involved with the urgent need between her legs, she knew from her experience that it was much faster to take a more circuitous route.

Willow remembered the first time she had done this. Curious as to what all the fuss was about, she’d explored this part of her body slowly, carefully. The skin on her abdomen was delicate and sensitive. She’d been so surprised to discover that gently running her fingers through the hair she found there, like that, could feel so exciting, rather than how it felt when she ran a washcloth over it.

Her first attempts to understand had involved a more direct route. She knew the anatomy of her body well enough to know generally where her hand was supposed to end up. But those early endeavors left her confused, frustrated, and sore. At the same time, it was a project she couldn’t bear to give up. She knew that there was a key in there somewhere, and when she found it, the door she opened up would be a good one.

It was accident that taught Willow to detour her hand to her inner thighs as her next step, and subsequent trial-and-error that taught her to pull her hand back outside her underwear and press her wrist into her groin as she fingered the soft skin of her legs. By now she knew how to pace the bucking of her hips up against her arm.

Not until she could feel her own wetness, soaked through to the skin of her wrist, did Willow bother to return her hand to beneath her underwear. She fingered the wiry hair she found there once more, but only briefly, before she reached down to stroke her outer lips. The contact, so familiar and yet so long filed away, made Willow gasp. As she ran her fingers up and down, she remembered lying in Tara’s bed, topless, stroking Tara’s face: her cheeks, her eyelids, and eventually her lips.

But Tara had objected, saying that the fingers along her lips tickled. So Willow had shifted, and had run her tongue along the length of Tara’s mouth. Without pressing in, she swept along the seam between Tara’s lips, and the thought made her run a finger along her slit. It told her just how wet she was, how ready her body was to press forward. Willow dipped her finger down between her lips, coating it in wetness before sliding it up to her clit.

Tara.

It was thoughts of Tara that brought her to this state: the expressiveness of her eyes, the softness of her lips, the taste of her skin. Those same thoughts continued to fill her mind as she moved her finger in a pattern of circles and strokes she had known long before that first exploration: 0, 1, 10, 11, 100 . . . .

Soon, Willow felt her hips jerk: this wasn’t going to take long. So much time had passed, and it felt so very good. Her finger moved faster, in a pattern stored in muscle memory, as she remembered the smoothness of Tara’s stomach beneath her tongue and the smell of vanilla on her skin. Then memories from later: the top of Tara’s underwear against her tongue and the smell of Tara’s arousal through her skirt.

Willow’s muscles began to tense. It always began in her legs, for some reason. The feeling spread rapidly enough, and soon it felt as though her whole body was connected by wires to her clit, and every circle around it tightened the wires a little more. As they became impossibly tight, Tara’s eighth happy noise--the low, throaty growl--rang in Willow’s head.

The wires snapped.

Willow never knew how long it took for her brain to turn back on after she came, and tonight was no different. The first thing she always noticed, when she was alone, anyway, was the steady pulse below her finger. It always felt terribly slow. She was always too content to care, though, too happy to bask in the primal satisfaction of her afterglow, to do anything but feel the rhythmic movement. For a while, at least.

The final gears in Willow’s brain finally caught, and her eyes snapped open. She moved to stretch, pausing to wipe her fingers on her lower abdomen before pulling them out of her pajama bottoms.

“Wow. Okay, totally needed that.” Willow looked up at her ceiling. “And, with the timing, after Tara said . . . .” Willow blushed in the darkness. Not that, you know, doing that while thinking about her means that we should . . . you know . . . right away. Just that, maybe what I said about eventually getting caught up in the touching could mean a sooner ‘eventually’ than a later one.”

Willow recalled the conversation from the other night, and suddenly felt sick.

“Only, she didn’t say that. She didn’t say she wanted to sleep with me. She said that she would if I wanted to . . . that's not wanting to, that’s acquiescing to.” Willow jumped out of bed, feeling the beginnings of panic. “And see, that’s not okay. I can’t . . . I mean, I offered to Oz when . . . and he knew enough to turn me down. If she agreed because I wanted, and then I . . . .” Willow began to pace. “No. No, no, no, can’t do that. That would be bad. That would be wrong.”

Willow caught the smell on her hand as she paced, and she looked at it in horror. “No, I just . . . .” She looked from her hand to her bed and back again. “Bad. Bad, bad, with the me and the . . . and the thinking about Tara, and now I’m going to put pressure on her and . . . no.”

She rushed to the cabinet below the sink and began to knock bottles out of the way until she found the GoJo, the soap Buffy kept around for getting off demon goo. Once she had poured a good amount onto her hand, she began to scrub.

“C’mon, c’mon, go away, please, gotta fix this.” Willow knew that with the amount of soap she’d dispensed, the room should smell like oranges, but instead it just reeked of sex. It just made her scrub her hand harder. As she washed her hand, she looked at herself in the mirror, saying, “Bad, bad, bad.”

A sudden, sharp sting made Willow cry out and look down at her hands. Between the brush and the pumice in the soap, she had torn a hole in her skin. As she rinsed the soap out of the wound and dried off her hands, she forced herself to calm down.

“Okay, me, going all Lady MacBeth over this is not going to help anybody. I’m busy being freaked-out gal about something that might happen, not something that has happened. I just need to make sure that badness doesn’t happen.”

Willow settled into the chair at her desk; she could always think at a desk. She reached for a notebook, so she could try to organize her thoughts, but found a post-it note on the top page, and a hand-printed translation on the adjacent notebook paper.

January 25

Confirmed: Willow’s straight. Stop crushing on her before you lose control and do something stupid that costs you a friend.

Naughty thoughts are not welcome. Please stop now.

“That’s right. I got that translation spell. I wonder if seeing this before bed is why I . . . .” Willow shook her head. “But, does it mean she wants to . . . I mean, lots of things could count as naughty. This was before the kissing. Maybe that’s what she meant, just thinking about kissing me. In a certain context, she could think that would be naughty. But maybe she meant . . .” Willow gulped. “Maybe she wanted to. Even then. All that time ago.”

Willow hit her head against her desk a few times. “Dammit. I can’t tell what she means, not exactly. And I need exactly.” She sighed. “I could hurt her really badly if I don’t know exactly.”

It took a moment, but Willow realized. She needed to ask. But that wasn’t all. Because if Tara did want to . . . well, Willow needed to know if she, too, was ready. She’d seen things go so poorly with Parker, she needed to make sure that if she and Tara took that step, that it wasn’t a mistake. Needed to protect Tara, even though she didn’t seem to realize she needed protection, just like Oz had done with her.

So Willow began to write.

Willow clenched her hand around the paper in her pocket. “Just about done, actually.” It had been a long day, full of a lot of awkward moments, but Tara had gone along. More than that, she seemed happy.

Sounds like a pretty happy ending for your date.

“Look, just . . . shut up. I’m going to go take Tara dancing, but it won’t be a date.”

Well, why not?

“Because . . . .” Willow sighed. “Look, taking Tara on a date would mean thinking about if we’re dating, which would mean thinking about if Oz and I are dating, which would mean thinking about Oz, and right now I just want to think about celebrating Faith being gone. So you, missy, are going to shut the hell up, and I’m going to Tara’s. So there.” She glared at the mirror a final time, and did her best to leave insecurities there with it.

***

Willow knocked on Tara’s door and bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet. She had just begun to wonder if she should have called first when the door opened.

“Hey, you’re back.” Tara looked Willow up and down, a pleased expression on her face. She didn’t look surprised, though, as if she’d grown accustomed to Willow randomly appearing on her doorstep. “And, um, you’ve changed. Again.” She stepped back into the room and waved Willow in.

Willow followed Tara into the room, a wide smile on her face. Without planning it, she picked Tara up and spun her around in a circle. “Faith’s gone!” Once Willow put her down, Tara opened her mouth but before she could say anything, Willow kissed her. All of the stress and fear she’d pushed into a little corner melted away, and all her focus was on the singular task of kissing Tara like it was the most important thing in the world.

A long moment later, Willow pulled back and looked at Tara seriously. “You’re safe,” she said softly as she brushed Tara’s cheek with the back of her hand.

Tara tilted her head to the side, a questioning look on her face. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Faith tends to hurt the people I care about the most.” Willow kissed Tara’s forehead. “That category includes you.”

Tara beamed, and the sight lit Willow up inside. Seeing Tara happy was just so rewarding. Willow couldn’t help but think how close her mind was to agreeing to a whole new category of ways to make Tara happy. She felt the blush rise in her cheeks, but forced herself to keep her eyes on Tara.

“So, what’s with the new clothes? Did you slip, you know, again?”

“Well, Faith’s gone, meaning the Scoobies are victorious. A trip to the Bronze is traditional.” Something flickered across Tara’s face, but Willow wasn't sure what it was. Still, it made her nervous, so she dropped her gaze to her fidgeting fingers before she continued. “So, um, wouldyouliketogodancingwithme?” Don’t ask “Like a date?” Don’t ask “Like a date?” Willow chanted to herself until she realized that Tara wasn’t asking. In fact, Tara wasn’t saying anything at all. Oh god. What if she says no? Willow hadn’t even considered it.

Desperate, she retreated, all the while staring at her nervous hands. “I mean, it’s totally okay if you don’t want to go. Why would you want to? It’s a stupid idea. Forget I--”

Willow found herself caught up in a kiss. It was exciting and passionate. Within seconds it had banished all thoughts of the Bronze, of leaving the room, and of doing anything but casting aside the rest of her stupid checklist and giving in to the tremendous physical need to move forward. Sensing weakness, her body moved of its own accord: her hands found their way to Tara’s shoulders, down her back, and were about to slide under Tara’s waistband when Tara pulled back.

“I’d love to go dancing with you.” Tara hugged Willow close, and squeezed away any thoughts of suggesting they simply stay here. She couldn’t go back on her offer. Not now. Not when Tara looked so excited.

“Good.” Willow nodded, mostly to convince herself. “Good.” With Tara no longer kissing her, Willow’s brain pressed back: she had to do this right. There was an order these things had to go in. Revising that order with the bed so close and Tara’s hands so soft around her waist was a terrible idea, like going grocery shopping when hungry. Only much, much worse.

“I’m guessing, then, that I’m not appropriately dressed?” The question pulled Willow back towards the moment, but it wasn’t quite enough.

“Hmm?”

“Well, you changed, and you said it was to go to this Bronze place . . . ?”

“Oh! Right! Yeah, clothes. I suppose, yeah, those aren’t really Bronze clothes, are they?” Willow frowned. “Man, I really am just helping you pile up dirty laundry today, aren’t I?”

Tara smiled. “Oh, I think it’s worth it.” Tara took Willow by the hand, and guided her over to the closet. “So, see anything you like?”

The lead-up was too perfect and Willow’s desire was too great for her to resist. She stepped behind Tara and reached around to cup her breasts as she whispered, “I like you.”

Willow heard Tara's sharp intake of breath, and felt her melt backwards into Willow and push her chest forward. "I'm glad." She turned in Willow's arms and kissed her. "I like you, too." Tara squeezed Willow quickly before turning back to her closet. "But I was asking about clothes, silly."

Clothes. Changing. Suddenly Willow remembered their interactions before dinner, and grew stiff. It had all gone terribly wrong: Tara had freaked out and withdrawn. What had she done wrong? Was it not okay to look? Should she leave when Tara changed this time? As she pointed at shirts and skirts that would be appropriate for the Bronze, part of her brain splintered off to formulate excuses for leaving Tara alone to change.

“So, um, yeah, any of those should be good.” Willow took a deep breath and kissed Tara’s neck. “How about you do the changing thing, and I’ll do the bathroom thing and you can meet me in the hallway when you’re done?” Willow gave Tara a quick squeeze and stepped back.

Tara turned quickly and caught Willow’s hands, looking slightly concerned. “Are-are you okay?”

“Fine.” Willow smiled weakly. “I’m good, just . . . had too much to drink at Giles’. I’ll meet you outside?”

Tara’s face relaxed and she nodded. “Cool. I’ll just be a minute.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Willow headed out of the room and down the hall to the restroom, where she immediately grabbed a sink and leaned over it as uncertainty won over. Willow replayed the incident from the afternoon in her head. It should have been fun and sexy and tempting. It should have been a chance to show Tara she wanted things to go further.

Would it have been different if she’d asked for Tara’s help earlier? She’d certainly intended to ask Tara to help her before Tara put on clean clothes, only to be silenced by the distressed look on her face. How had admiring Tara pushed her away? In the past it had always delighted her.

Willow shook her head. Tara had agreed to go the Bronze, and she should focus on that. She could go, secure in the knowledge that her friends were decidedly elsewhere, and relax into the idea of being there with Tara. They could talk, dance, and have a good time. In fact, she remembered suddenly, given who usually tended bar on Saturdays, they could also have amaretto sours. Of course, she had no idea if Tara drank at all, or was comfortable with underage drinking in general. Though, she hadn't said anything about the hacking, which was way more illegal.

Then there was what Xander and Buffy would say if they found out . . . when did going to the Bronze get so freaking complicated?

Start by offering her a soda, then later, depending on things are going, say you could get her a harder drink, if she wanted.

“Okay, me. We're good. We have a plan. Let's do this.” As Willow pulled her hands off the edge of the sink, she realized how sweaty her palms were. She was nervous. Why was she nervous? Tara was familiar. The Bronze was familiar. Nothing to be nervous about. Except the list in your pocket. Except that almost everything is crossed off. Willow carefully washed her hands, this time without excessive scrubbing or blood drawing.

As Willow left the restroom, she looked down the hallway and spotted Tara locking her room, and it stopped Willow in her tracks. Tara's wardrobe had always intrigued Willow: so distinctly feminine, yet at the same time so very different from, say, Buffy's. But that fascination didn't quench her reaction to Tara's current attire. When she had suggested Tara wear that skirt, she hadn't realized the floral print would wrap around to the back like that. And by back, you mean ass. At which you are now staring. Tara turned to face Willow, but she couldn’t help but continue to stare. Willow's eyes swept slowly up. She felt a small shiver go down her spine as Tara's top registered: Tara always looked amazing in green. Finally, her eyes caught that Tara had put a choker back on, the one with the three metal pieces in the front. All at once, all Willow could think about was Tara lying on top of her, topless, as Willow took those metal beads in her mouth and between her teeth.

“Are we a codfish?” Tara asked, her head tilted and a curious expression on her face. Willow blinked, not understanding. Tara opened her mouth, and then mimed shutting it with a finger to her chin.

Willow realized in horror that she had been staring, open mouthed, at Tara. She snapped her jaw shut. “We are not a codfish.”

Tara grinned. “Good to hear.” She paused. “Is everything okay?”

Willow opened her mouth to dismiss her odd behavior before thinking better of it. With a quick glance down the hallway, Willow could see that no one was paying them any mind. Still, she found herself looking at the floor when she said softly, “You look really nice.”

Tara's initial response, a small, delighted noise, made Willow's heart pound faster in her chest. In her field of view was Tara's hand, and Willow felt the sudden need to take it; she paused, however, before her hand so much as twitched. Holding her hand out here, outside of the cocoon of Tara's room, was at once compelling and daunting. Willow knew the feel of Tara's hand, and how electrifying that softness could be. At the same time, it, combined with taking Tara dancing at the Bronze, checked off the last of her list. Under the harsh flickering lights of the dorm hallway, the thought of being done with it and crossing the subsequent threshold . . . the enormity of the thing got to her. It felt like driving too fast down the mountains, not sure the car would stay under control.

Willow pulled her gaze up away from the temptation of Tara’s hand to find her head shyly tilted down, but a bright smile on her face. As she looked into Tara’s eyes, so full of joy, Willow realized something. She’d thought about her list completely wrong. It wasn’t a brick on the accelerator, meaning she had to do anything she wasn’t ready to do. It was there to be the brakes, to keep her from acting too soon. Willow wanted to hold Tara’s hand . . . and that was okay. It didn’t mean anything more than that, not if she wasn’t ready for it.

Some of the self-imposed weight lifted off Willow’s shoulders, and she smiled at Tara. “Come on,” she said as she nodded down the corridor. As they turned and began to walk, Willow pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and took a deep breath before she reached out and took Tara’s hand.

Willow felt Tara jump beside her and almost dropped her hand, suddenly worried she had been too forward. But before she could, Tara squeezed her hand tightly. Still not sure what to expect, Willow smiled shyly, and turned slowly to look at her.

The look on Tara’s face was one Willow had seen before. The bright eyes and the slightly parted mouth that slowly turned up into a smile spelled out delight and glee as surely as if the words had been written out in ink. Having that smile, that look, directed at her was warming, and reminded Willow of turning her face to the sun on a chill winter day. Tara looked at her like that, and Willow knew that was she was wonderful.

What eventually struck Willow, though, was that it was an expression she had only seen on Tara’s face in private. Like the action that caused it, it was from a part of their lives previously confined to Tara’s room. Willow felt that look hit her, and shivered.

“Hi.” Willow heard herself say the word, though she didn’t know why she had said it. She felt stupid; why had she let something so out of place slip out of her mouth?

“Hi yourself.” Tara shook her head gently, but her smile persisted. She sounded amused, like Willow had said something clever and appropriate, not completely inane. “Do you, um, w-want to keep going to the Bronze? Or do you want to stand in the hallway staring at each other like a couple of l-lovestruck teenagers?”

“Bronze, please.” As they began to walk again, Willow continued, “But we are a couple of teenagers. You know, technically. At least, for a little while, yet.” She knew she was being ornery, but being correct was important.

“For a while, yet.” There was a sad, faraway sound to Tara’s voice, and when she spoke, she squeezed Willow’s hand tightly. Concerned, Willow looked over to try to read Tara’s face, but a curtain of hair hung in her way. For a moment, she opened her mouth to speak, but found she didn’t know what to say.

As they made their way out of Hillcrest in silence, Willow replayed the moment over and over again. What happened to make Tara sound so distant? All she had done was point out that they were, in fact, still teenagers. And they were. They corrected each other all the time; it was habit, it was banter. It was play.

Something to do with getting older, perhaps? That Tara’s mother wouldn’t have the chance to watch Tara go to college, graduate, and grow into an adult? That leaving her teens would mark a threshold that Tara passed without her mother? Willow knew, for her own part, that her birthdays had been tinged with sadness in the past few years: it was one of the few times of the year she really felt that Jesse was gone. The reality was that life as a Scoobie meant facing that people die on a day to day basis, but Jesse was not only the her first experience watching someone become a vampire, he was also her friend. Distant as her relationship with her parents was, Willow couldn’t imagine them not seeing her graduate, not seeing her get married, not doing all those landmark things she had in front of her. So of course it made sense that Tara would be saddened by the thought of leaving her teens, and moving on into a new decade of her life that her mother would never see.

When they finally made their way into the cool evening, Tara paused and looked at Willow, an expectant look on her face.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t know the way. I have to follow you, but you’re not, um, leading.”

“Oh. Heh. Right.” Willow tugged on Tara’s hand, and pulled her to the right. After months at school, Willow knew the best-lit routes through campus. “This isn’t the most direct way,” Willow said as they made a left turn. “But it is bright. So, it’s not how you would go during the day. There’s a much more direct route. Of course, not that you would go to the Bronze during the day. It’s not even open. Just, you know, with Buffy, we’d go a different way.”

“R-right. I don’t mind taking a longer route.” Tara ran her thumb across the back of Willow’s hand. “Walking is nice, and the company is great.”

“Aw, shucks.” Willow bumped her shoulder gently into Tara’s. “You’re so sweet.” Though she didn’t plan on it, Willow felt her own thumb move on Tara’s hand. She had noticed, across the past week, that she was never content to touch Tara and leave her hand still; rather, she needed the feel of skin sliding against skin. It had never been this way with Oz, certainly not simply holding hands. Contact with Tara was necessary but not sufficient.

They spoke only occasionally during the bulk of the walk, though the bouts of silence were amicable. Willow had to temper her desire to immerse herself in the experience of being with Tara, a desire fueled by the warm softness of Tara’s hand. Instead, she kept a constant eye on the shadows. Buffy was out tonight, but her target was Adam, not vampires. Their safety, then, fell onto Willow’s shoulders. Tara had never had to develop the eye for predators in the dark, the feel of being actively hunted. It would be terribly poor form, in the face of victory over Faith, to be sloppy in the constant vigilance against the mundane undead.

“Look!” Willow pointed. “That’s us, right there.”

“It, um, looks like a warehouse.”

“That makes sense: it actually used to be one. Or, I guess you could say that it still is one. It’s just, now the wares that it houses are booze, bands, and . . . Some b-word that means ‘teenagers.’”

In the light from the Bronze, Willow spotted one of Oz’s friends. Without thinking, she promptly dropped Tara’s hand. It wasn’t until the cool air hit her warmed skin that Willow realized what she had done. In an effort to make her move look less like she was embarrassed, she pointed towards the door with that hand. “They only charge cover when they have live music. No one’s at the door, so they must just be playing CDs over the sound system.” They approached the door, and Willow looked over at Tara. She held her arms crossed over her chest. Willow had seen her do that enough to know it was indicative of Tara pulling in on herself. Great, just great. I get her to the Bronze all happy-like, and now she’s going all shy because I’m jumping at shadows of Oz?

“Can they get decent acoustics, being a warehouse and all?”

“Right, you’ve never been inside. I keep forgetting. It’s just . . . I can't believe you've never been here. The Bronze is the coolest place in Sunnydale.” Willow aimed for funny and charming in an effort to pull Tara back out of her shell. “Course, not a lot of competition there . . . I think the vending machine at Burgin's came in second.”

“Y-you used to come here a lot?” Tara sounded surprised.

Willow looked around, breathing in the familiarity of the Bronze. “Lived here. Me, Xander, . . .” her mood crashed as her eyes landed on someone she did not want to see, “. . . Buffy.”

Watching Buffy taunt some random frat boy chugging a beer left Willow speechless for a minute. Buffy wasn’t supposed to be here. She was supposed to be hunting Adam. Maybe sleeping with Riley. She was supposed to be anywhere but here.

“Wow, I didn’t think she’d be here.” Suave, Willow. Of course you didn’t. You wouldn’t have brought Tara here if you did. Not that she knows that. So, decision time. Are you going to face this, or run like a coward and make Tara feel bad?

Willow reached up and took Tara’s hand. “Come on. I want you to meet her.” Tara mattered to her, and that meant that she should meet her friends. The isolation from the rest of her friends had taken a toll on Tara, and that was wrong. It was time to fix all that.

The pleased look on Tara’s face was enough to send Willow to happy land as she turned to pull Tara through the crowd. All these things she had pushed herself to do really seemed to make Tara happy. They may have been a little hard, but Tara’s reaction continued to dwarf her sense of awkwardness or uncertainty.

Okay, going to bring Tara over to Buffy, and I’m going to say, ‘Hey, Buffy, this is Tara, my . . . .’ Willow faltered. What was she going to say? It wasn’t enough to say that Tara was her friend. Tara was so much more than that. But what could she say? Tara was just, well, Tara. She could just say that, that she was Tara. Which would be fine. Until, of course, Buffy noticed they were holding hands. Could she tell, with the slayerness and all, that it wasn’t the same kind of holding hands that she did with Buffy? Because if she could, she would ask things. Worse, she would ask things in front of Tara. Meaning Willow would have to answer in front of Tara. Then she would have to manage not just what Buffy thought, but also what Tara thought of what she was telling Buffy . . . .

Buffy pushed the frat boy away, and Willow decided that now was the time for baby steps, not to risk anything getting complicated. Things with Tara were confusing already, and the last thing she needed was to make it worse. Hoping Buffy had been too distracted to notice yet, she quickly dropped Tara’s hand. Soon enough, Buffy turned and walked right into them.

“Hey, Buffy!”

“Willow. And - uh . . .” Buffy paused, clearly waiting for an introduction.

“Buffy, this is Tara.” Simple. Not complicated. The situation was totally doable.

“Hi.” Tara sounded so small, against the background din of the Bronze and the confidence streaming off Buffy. This was a terrible idea.

“So we’ve never met?” Buffy asked Tara, who merely shook her head. “Okay. Cool. I’m having a thing with names.”

“Tara was in my Wicca group,” Willow said, trying to stave off any questions from Buffy that she’d have to answer in front of Tara.

“Uh huh.” Sounds uninterested. Excellent.

“So, what’s up?” Buffy walked toward a nearby couch, and Willow touched Tara’s arm before indicating an adjacent chair. Hopefully they would be rid of Buffy soon. However, the way Buffy dropped herself into the couch didn’t exactly scream ‘temporary.’ Dammit, woman, way more of a settling-in type action that I wanted to see out of you right now.

“Patrol a no-go?” continued Willow, who desperately wanted to keep the conversation away from her and Tara. She needed to find some way of subtly encouraging Buffy to leave. But Buffy kicked her feet up onto the table, further reinforcing she was here to stay. When Tara took a seat, Willow sat on the arm of the chair, the socially acceptable distance between them suddenly feeling like a gulf.

“I got tired. The whole Faith thing . . . I wanted to let off some steam.”

“Good for you. You shouldn’t work yourself too hard.” In fact, you should go let off some of that steam with Riley. Work him hard. Right now. Shoo.

“That’s my philosophy.” Buffy threw her arms behind her head. Great, just great. First I chicken out and drop Tara’s hand, and now I’ll just have to sit next to Buffy looking all cool and way more attractive than me and Tara will figure out I’m just a dork with a cool friend.

Willow needed out. Now. “Anyone want a soda?” At least this way she could be chivalrous for Tara, without being too obvious.

Tara looked up at her. “Water?” Buffy shook her head, and Willow went over to the bar to fetch. Perfect. Just perfect. I finish off my checklist just in time to show Tara how much of an insecure spaz I am. Willow looked around the club, checking to see if anyone else was there that would disrupt her original ‘take Tara dancing’ plans. If she could get rid of Buffy fast enough (she should just give in and mention Riley; that should work), maybe she could just pull Tara into a quiet corner, and try to explain what had happened. Apologize for being spooked. Show her with a kiss or two that the problem was not knowing what to say to Buffy, not that she didn’t want to be out in public with Tara.

As she looked around, she didn’t see anyone she knew to interfere with her new plan. She did, however, see something much worse.

A vampire.

[wayland]

Dibs

(Back after Christmas)

[beautiful_love]

I have to admit, I was worried this wouldn't be up by Christmas as promised. But you made a liar out of me. This was fantastic in moving the story along. Willow is so adorable in her thinking and over-thinking and over-over-thinking. Which is totally understandable. She's in this exciting new world and not sure how to deal between behind closed doors and in very public settings. But Tara seems as gracious as ever to just go with it. The whole walk to the Bronze was my favorite part. It was just so cute and very in the early stages of falling for someone tone. Made me smile. I enjoyed season four but if your interpretation was what they actually showed, I probably would've never left the house because I'd be to busy watching and rewatching everyday. Enjoy your holiday and your trip. Michigan's not usually too warm this time of year so stay toasty.

[True_Love]

Woo hoo! You kept your promise. If public declarations are the way to get updates out of you, then that's the way I'll go about it. Lol.

Loved the opening scene with Willow arguing with herself in the mirror over whether or not she was going on a date. So very cute and very Willow. She evaulated her attitude as well as her attire while battling her wits. I'm not sure who really won. She seems to think she did, but I tend to think her reflection took that award.

Next a fairly intimate self-love time for Willow. Congrats for breaking into NC-17 territory. I loved that she threw Mr. Snuggle Pumpkins to the floor, facing the wall. I mean you couldn't have him seeing that! Also, thought it was great how you explained Willow's coming upon the discovery of self-love. Her dedication to the task, like it was something to be accomplished rather than enjoyed. Happiness was just a benefit. On top of that was her pattern bianary code, lol? I don't know if she was spelling anything, but that is halarious. This being her first time performing the act and thinking of Tara, aww. You know there is goodness to come. No pun intended.

Then on to the Bronze. Well really, the walk to the Bronze starting at Tara's. I love how Willow right off that bat is taken with Tara's appearance as she comes out of her room and locks her door. So much so that she want to grab Tara's hand. A huge step forward. Yay! Tara's so surprised she jumps, but then squeezes and holds on. Then they just stare at each other. Aww. Love this! But then, dun dun daaa, the whole age thing comes up and you just know Tara's scared to death about her 20th birthday demon changing thingy. That just kinda sucked. You didn't focus too long on that and quickly moved the girls on their way. I liked the walk over to the Bronze, sweet and short. But then it's sad again with Willow dropping Tara's hand at the Bronze. You feel for Willow cuz you know it was a step forward with her introducing Tara to Buffy, but it sad to because she did it out of necessity not that she planned to. Poor Tara. She already loves Willow so much she would follow her anywhere even when Willow's still in denial about how she feels about her.

Great job! You know I will be harrassing you until the next installment. At least give me a rough date to look forward to...

Merry Christmas, Kate.

[GrimCityGirl]

PLEASE. UPDATE THIS SOON. I never saw it before, and I've just stayed up until 8.30am reading it start to finish. I MUST READ MORE!!!