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"The word 'GULP!'comes to mind." Tara
by nika » Tue Mar 05, 2002 6:27 am
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"The word 'GULP!'comes to mind." Tara
by Kel » Tue Mar 05, 2002 6:41 am
thanks for the short break in allll the sadness, which iam sure your gonna get right back to *sigh*
Kel
by Sassette » Tue Mar 05, 2002 10:23 am
**mollyig: Jossian? I didn't even realize that was a word; however, I will take that as the highest of compliments. So thank you *G*
**Scout: Yeah? Well, I nearly fell out of my chair when I saw that scene in OAFA after I already had the 'Tara asks Willow to cast' thing all figured out in my head. I don't, however, think that either scenario is out of character - glad that you agree. I was all prepared for people to get pissed off and have to list my reasons why I think Tara would do that in this situation. As for the NEXT update ... probably not tonight, because it's Buffy night, so Wednesday or Thursday is more likely.
**ForeverPiper: Warped senses of humor work better. Honest. *G* But yeah, I enjoyed writing that part ... and it was really late, I was tired, and it was something I muttered to myself after I wrote Giles' line. Then I figured - what the hell - why not have Willow just say it? *shrug*
**nika: *shrug* You gotta' watch out for those redheads. And I'm glad you liked it.
**Kel: I haven't decided if I'm going to jump right into the angst again or have something happy happen. Oh, hell - who am I kidding? Buckle your seatbelts.
-Sass
by Pixie » Tue Mar 05, 2002 10:32 am
[This message has been edited by Pixie (edited March 05, 2002).]
by Sassette » Tue Mar 05, 2002 11:18 am
-Sass
by wiccachica » Tue Mar 05, 2002 1:19 pm
but for now....
Hooray for the Sassette!
Yippee for the Sass fic!!!!
*grinning from ear to ear so that my co workers are confused.... afraid... and ready to run from me....*
[This message has been edited by wiccachica (edited March 05, 2002).]
IP: Logged
::Your smitten leaves offerings of chocolate and flowers::
PS Ode to follow later
IP: Logged
I thought it was particularly good when Tara asked Willow to cast on her...it was just so much out of desperation and despair and really very moving.
Keep up the great work and umm, try and avoid the bloody cliffhanger. How much CPR is one person capable of giving?
Btw my gf is a redhead, there's just something about them
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'The cold and ruthless sea tossed the lovers' into the starry black night. together they fall, together they sleep. forever.. forever.. *whisper*forever..the cold and ruthless sea...' By Sweets
[This message has been edited by Puff (edited March 05, 2002).]
IP: Logged
quote:
Originally posted by wiccachica:
[B... this may be a redhead conspiracy....[/B]
Psst, wiccachica. *Pixie gives secret handshake and mutters this week's codeword*
IP: Logged
quote:
Originally posted by Pixie:
Psst, wiccachica. *Pixie gives secret handshake and mutters this week's codeword*
Wow - I think we can start a "redheads who read sassette" support group.
BM - the only r/h in her family.
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TARA: Willow and I always know how to find each other!
ANYA: With yoga?
****************
BUFFYBOT: That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!
IP: Logged
::Your smitten leaves offerings of chocolate and flowers::
PS Ode to follow later
IP: Logged
posted March 05, 2002 19:57 That chapter was amazing. Willow realising that casting even to save her life was wrong and Tara telling her that all her memories were not worth Willow's life. I got all teary eyed and then started giggling when they both described offering themselves to the vampire . I mean, I could go on, Iloved the whole chapter. Thanks for staying up and posting it.::Your smitten leaves offerings of chocolate and flowers::
PS Ode to follow later
IP: LoggedPuffGay Now! I thought it was particularly good when Tara asked Willow to cast on her...it was just so much out of desperation and despair and really very moving.
Keep up the great work and umm, try and avoid the bloody cliffhanger. How much CPR is one person capable of giving?
Btw my gf is a redhead, there's just something about them
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'The cold and ruthless sea tossed the lovers' into the starry black night. together they fall, together they sleep. forever.. forever.. *whisper*forever..the cold and ruthless sea...' By Sweets
[This message has been edited by Puff (edited March 05, 2002).]
IP: Logged
posted March 05, 2002 20:49 Wonderful update Sass. Between you, Lisa and MC I am saying that a lot these dayI thought it was particularly good when Tara asked Willow to cast on her...it was just so much out of desperation and despair and really very moving.
Keep up the great work and umm, try and avoid the bloody cliffhanger. How much CPR is one person capable of giving?
Btw my gf is a redhead, there's just something about them
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'The cold and ruthless sea tossed the lovers' into the starry black night. together they fall, together they sleep. forever.. forever.. *whisper*forever..the cold and ruthless sea...' By Sweets
[This message has been edited by Puff (edited March 05, 2002).]
IP: LoggedPixieSassy Eggs quote:
Originally posted by wiccachica:
[B... this may be a redhead conspiracy....[/B]
Psst, wiccachica. *Pixie gives secret handshake and mutters this week's codeword*
IP: Logged
posted March 05, 2002 22:07quote:
Originally posted by wiccachica:
[B... this may be a redhead conspiracy....[/B]
Psst, wiccachica. *Pixie gives secret handshake and mutters this week's codeword*
quote:IP: LoggedBobo's MomCool Monster Fighter quote:
Originally posted by Pixie:
Psst, wiccachica. *Pixie gives secret handshake and mutters this week's codeword*
Wow - I think we can start a "redheads who read sassette" support group.
BM - the only r/h in her family.
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TARA: Willow and I always know how to find each other!
ANYA: With yoga?
****************
BUFFYBOT: That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!
IP: Logged
posted March 05, 2002 23:56quote:
Originally posted by Pixie:
Psst, wiccachica. *Pixie gives secret handshake and mutters this week's codeword*
Wow - I think we can start a "redheads who read sassette" support group.
BM - the only r/h in her family.
------------------
TARA: Willow and I always know how to find each other!
ANYA: With yoga?
****************
BUFFYBOT: That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!
by jomarch » Tue Mar 05, 2002 5:57 pm
::Your smitten leaves offerings of chocolate and flowers::
PS Ode to follow later
by Puff » Tue Mar 05, 2002 6:49 pm
I thought it was particularly good when Tara asked Willow to cast on her...it was just so much out of desperation and despair and really very moving.
Keep up the great work and umm, try and avoid the bloody cliffhanger. How much CPR is one person capable of giving?
Btw my gf is a redhead, there's just something about them
------------------
'The cold and ruthless sea tossed the lovers' into the starry black night. together they fall, together they sleep. forever.. forever.. *whisper*forever..the cold and ruthless sea...' By Sweets
[This message has been edited by Puff (edited March 05, 2002).]
by Pixie » Tue Mar 05, 2002 8:07 pm
quote:
Originally posted by wiccachica:
[B... this may be a redhead conspiracy....[/B]
Psst, wiccachica. *Pixie gives secret handshake and mutters this week's codeword*
quote:by Bobo's Mom » Tue Mar 05, 2002 9:56 pm
quote:
Originally posted by Pixie:
Psst, wiccachica. *Pixie gives secret handshake and mutters this week's codeword*
Wow - I think we can start a "redheads who read sassette" support group.
BM - the only r/h in her family.
------------------
TARA: Willow and I always know how to find each other!
ANYA: With yoga?
****************
BUFFYBOT: That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!
by Pixie » Tue Mar 05, 2002 10:01 pm
quote:
Originally posted by Bobo's Mom:
Wow - I think we can start a "redheads who read sassette" support group.BM - the only r/h in her family.
Hey Bobo's Mom! We could be "The Smitten Redheads"! And we could have a special logo on our helmets and ...okay, sorry. I got a little over-excited there. You know - new Buffy, waiting for fic updates. I think I should stop before I hurt myself.
by Sheila » Tue Mar 05, 2002 10:11 pm
I am a very happy Smitten tonight... :-)
Wonderful work, as always! It was SO Tara to act like that in the park! She's always thinking about Willow first. Only when things got pretty bad, she didn't. But even though, she left not only to protect herself but to help opening Willow's eyes, so there you go.
Now, I'm not sure if I want to think where Tara's little ball of dark magic is going to take her... *scared sigh*
Keep the great work, hon! :-)
Sheila
[This message has been edited by Sheila (edited March 06, 2002).]
by YuriPup » Tue Mar 05, 2002 10:18 pm
by Bobo's Mom » Tue Mar 05, 2002 10:41 pm
quote:
Originally posted by Pixie:
We could be "The Smitten Redheads"! And we could have a special logo on our helmets and ....
Pixie, I just spilled beer on the keyboard from laughing so hard.
Helmets! I want a helmet! Sassette? Will you authorize helmets for your faithful smittens?
by Pixie » Tue Mar 05, 2002 11:02 pm
Near the top of the last page, noggin-safety-conscious Owl decided to hand out helmets to kittens like me and Puff who have a tendency to go *thud* after reading one of Sassette's updates. I have found the helmet to be quite useful. Although nothing seems to work as well as Sass giving mouth-to-mouth to revive me.
Hey Jomarch, can you add some verses to your "Ode to Fic Writers" about the accessories we mittens/smittens have acquired? I don't know about all of you, but I think I may need to clear out a drawer so I have a place to keep my helmet, t-shirt, mitten robe, and cliffhanger harness with extra straps.
by jomarch » Tue Mar 05, 2002 11:35 pm
Ode to the fanfic readers
We fanfic smitten mittens are an interesting bunch,
And if you look closely (I do have a hunch)
Deep in our drawers at home or at work,
You'll find a personalised helmet, robe and t-shirt,
Not to mention a cliffhanger harness with straps.
Needed cos for a good story we are all such big saps.
So we worship fanfic writers & all they have written.
And have accessorised together to call ourselves mittens.
Sassette - I actually have to work now but will still write you a verse
by Owl » Wed Mar 06, 2002 9:16 am
jomarch: love the poem. I do feel a little silly wearing all this stuff at once, sometimes.
*leaving an offering of baked goods for sassette *
-faithful non-redheaded[] smitten owl.
by WiccansIllusion » Wed Mar 06, 2002 9:52 am
by Sassette » Wed Mar 06, 2002 10:03 am
Thank you all for the offerings - I appreciate them, and just because y'all are so darn cute, I'll have an update for you tonight, sometime after work.
-Sass
by jomarch » Wed Mar 06, 2002 5:28 pm
-Goes to drawer ..Putting on my t-shirt, robe, harness (tying all the straps, whew) and oops, Owl, I need a helmet (with logo, please) and WiccansIllusion, can I have a mug as well -
Luckily I'm in my office or people are gonna stare. OK, Sassette bring it on...
by ForeverPiper » Wed Mar 06, 2002 6:24 pm
---------
by Bobo's Mom » Wed Mar 06, 2002 6:54 pm
quote:
Originally posted by Owl:
special delivery for bobo's mom!
one helmet with special logo coming up.... any special color or style? I am enclosing a limited edition keyboard shield. enjoy!
Perhaps I should request a beer helmet - while hopelessly out of fashion, it might save the keyboard as I wait for future updates.
Sassette - I bow, wish for an update,and pass over a bottle of whatever beverage you deem tasty!
------------------
TARA: Willow and I always know how to find each other!
ANYA: With yoga?
****************
BUFFYBOT: That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo!
by Owl » Wed Mar 06, 2002 7:22 pm
Okay. eagerly awaiting update....
by Pixie » Wed Mar 06, 2002 7:32 pm
*joins the crowd of smittens, all decked out in her t-shirt, robe, "Smitten Redhead" (TM) helmet, and harness*
by Bobo's Mom » Wed Mar 06, 2002 7:38 pm
BM
IP: Logged
quote:
Originally posted by Owl:
a helmet with logo for jomarch.....
is that the special edition redhead logo, or your basic otherheaded smitten helmet?
and... let 'em stare! you look fabulous!
you might want to ask tiny jewish santa*, though. In the meantime, i'll try to get some in stock...
(*please tell me you recognize the reference here. otherwise, i just sound odd)Okay. eagerly awaiting update....
Well, unfortunately i'm not a red-head [feeling left out ] though my mom is. I take after my dad so I have dark brown hair. Can I just have a basic sparkly helmet with smitten logo that can hold beer in the carabeener mug. And yes, people outside are staring as I have been laughing quite loudly picturing all of us at our monitors all decked out waiting for the update.
Waves to Pixie- hope you liked the new ode verse.
Waves frantically to Sassette- Update please, all your smittens are accessorised and ready.
IP: Logged
see wiccansillusion's post above for the carabeener mug reference.
ah, and the logo thingie at this point says "smittens (or redheaded smittens) of sassette do it on the floor" for now. In reference to lisa's t-shirts. other slogans available by request.
i think i reference things too much...
[This message has been edited by Owl (edited March 06, 2002).]
IP: Logged
quote:
Originally posted by jomarch:
Waves to Pixie- hope you liked the new ode verse.
*waves back* You so rock jomarch!! I hope I didn't wake my neighbors last night with my giggling.
IP: Logged
Title: Answering Darkness Part 37 - Mothers and Daughters
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to pink_overalls@yahoo.com
Summary: Not much actually happens. Some bonding occurs.
Spoiler Warning: Up to and including "Tabula Rasa" in Season 6.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm just borrowing them because Season 6 angst is running high, and I want my happy ending now, dammit! So I'm writing it … but it'll be awhile until I get to that part, so bear with me (or "bare" with me if you're naughty).
Rating: PG-13
Notes: For the purpose of this story, all events of Tabula Rasa took place exactly as shown in the series; however, no subsequent episodes will affect this piece.
Answering Darkness Part 37
Mothers and Daughters
By Sassette
"Maybe I should go help her," Willow said, frowning up at the stairs.
"She said she didn't need any help," Giles said patiently, not looking up from the book in his hands.
"Well, yeah," Willow hedged, "but she's been up there for a long time, and with the helpfulness, she could be back down here, where all the research action is. We don't want Tara to feel all left out or anything right?"
"Willow," Buffy said, a little smile crossing her face at Willow's agitation. Nobody, Buffy knew, could get worked up over nothing quite like Willow could. "She's looking through her mother's things. Give her another ten minutes or so before you go barging in, okay?"
"But ..." Willow started to protest, only to trail off. "Stupid, Rosenberg," she muttered, looking back at the little bar marking the progress of her file download. She had insisted that Tara needed to look at her mother's things alone. Willow shifted uncomfortably in her chair, tapping a pencil on the table. It had seemed to Willow like a very private thing, for a mother and daughter to share, and so she had opted to stay downstairs. Now, with Tara having been upstairs for three hours, she wanted to stand up and kick herself in the head for being an idiot.
"Go upstairs," Giles said, his voice full of exasperation as he rolled his eyes at Willow's fidgeting.
"Right," Willow said eagerly, immediately standing up and bolting up the stairs. Once she reached the door she hesitated. She didn't want to intrude, and she knew that Tara's mother had meant the world to Tara. Still, she was getting kind of worried. Her respect for Tara's privacy and her unease at Tara's absence warred within her. She knew that whatever Tara found, she would eventually share with her, no matter own private it was, but ... it just seemed right to let Tara look everything over first by herself. Then again, what if Tara needed her? What if Tara was feeling lost and alone and needed Willow Hugs?
"Come in," she heard Tara's voice call. Because it was muffled by the door, Willow found she couldn't get a read on what Tara was feeling from the tone. She turned the knob, easing the door open and poking her head in, worried eyes finding Tara, sitting in front of a trunk with her back to the doorway, her legs crossed under her in her usual manner.
"I ... umm," Willow said, unsure of how to explain her presence.
"Was worried? And kicking yourself for telling me to do this alone?" Tara asked mildly, turning her head to look at Willow, a sad sweet smile on her face.
"Are you okay, Baby?" Willow asked, entering the room and closing the door softly behind her. "You've been up here for awhile, and I thought that maybe you'd ..."
"Need a hug?" Tara finished the sentence for her, her eyes falling to her lap and her shoulders dropping. "Because I do," she said quietly.
"Awww, honey," Willow said, crossing the room with a few long strides and dropping to the floor behind Tara, and tucking one leg under her, the other resting next to Tara, bent at the knee, her foot resting flat on the floor.
Slowly, Willow pulled Tara back against her chest, her arms wrapping around her middle. Tara let her head fall back on Willow's shoulder with a sigh, one arm resting on Willow's bent knee, and the other stroking the smooth skin of the forearms hugging her close.
"Wanna talk about it?" Willow murmured into her hair, turning her head a fraction to place a light kiss on her temple.
"She kept a journal," Tara said, her voice tired. "I never knew," she went on, shaking her head a little in wonder. "She wrote in it every single day, and I never knew. She - she starts each entry 'Dear Tara', like she knew I'd see it someday. Like it's full of things she wanted me to know, but didn't think she'd never tell me."
"You never snuck into your mom's stuff?" Willow asked curiously.
"No, never," Tara said. "Except that once ... I got into her trunk, and there was a little compartment in it. I managed to get it open, but it was really tricky. That's when I found grandmother's doll's eye crystal. At least, I think it was grandmother's," she said, a wistful look on her face. "But Mom was ... she was so ... sad ..." she went on, her eyes filling with confusion, "when I found it, I never looked through her things again. I tried to give it back, but she told me to keep it. And I did, until I gave it to you."
"I ... I found it, in the dresser yesterday," Willow said slowly. "I...I thought we lost it?"
"Dawn must have found it," Tara said. "I found it in her room last week. I ... I want you to have it."
"Still?" Willow asked, hugging Tara tighter.
"If ... if it's too much for you - I mean, if it will make you want to cast ..." she said hesitantly.
"No," Willow said, a thoughtful look on her face. "It - it doesn't. I must have sat with it for an hour, and I just ... I felt really clear."
"It does that," Tara said with a slow smile. "It's a nice crystal."
"Very nice," Willow said with a smile, nuzzling Tara's neck, making Tara wonder if they were still talking about the same thing. "What did you find in your mom's journal?" she asked after placing several delicate kisses up Tara's neck to her ear.
"She was ... very sad," Tara said slowly. "I remember being really little, and catching my mother looking at me, and her eyes were so loving and sad, I ... I just walked up to her and crawled into her lap and hugged her."
"Why do you think she was so sad?" Willow asked after a moment, feeling like this was something Tara had to share.
"I found the entry she wrote when she found out she was having a girl," Tara said, her hand drifting down to hover over the cover of the journal in her lap. "She ... she cried. She wrote that she was so happy to be pregnant, and that from the moment she knew she was pregnant, she loved me. But she cried because it broke her heart to know that my family would have to hurt me to keep me safe." Tara paused, taking a deep breath. "She really believed in the demon. I ... I always, somewhere inside, wondered why she never just took me away from Dad and Donnie. Why we didn't just go somewhere we could be happy."
"That … that must have been so hard for her," Willow mused aloud, her gaze distant as she tried to put herself in Tara's mother's place. What would she do if she were sure she was a demon? What would she do if she were sure she'd hurt people if she left?
"It … I sometimes thought that … a mother is supposed to love you more than anything," Tara said on a whisper, her voice so faint Willow could barely make it out. "And … I'd get so mad at her," she confessed, her voice lost. "I was so angry that … that she put the world first. That she chose keeping other people safe over keeping me safe. Stupid, huh?"
"No … not stupid," Willow disagreed, shifting her wait to put her other leg alongside Tara and pulling her as close as she could given their respective positions. "I … It makes perfect sense, baby, and you didn't do anything wrong. You were really young, weren't you? You stopped being mad when you got older and understood, didn't you?"
Tara nodded her confirmation of Willow's words. "But I … I got so mad at her again when she died. It was like - she got out and she left me there with them. I wanted to go, too. I wanted to follow her wherever it was she went, and I - I remember running out into the woods and just … screaming into the sky because she left me behind."
"Oh, Honey …" Willow said, murmuring comforting nonsense words into her hair and rocking her gently.
"She … she wrote in here, why she didn't leave," Tara said quietly, a look of aching peace on her face. "I … I finally understand. I thought I did when I got older - that she couldn't leave because she was afraid she'd hurt someone. But I was wrong. She didn't choose the world over me. She was afraid that if she took me away >she< would hurt me. She w-wrote that she … she wanted me to know what it was like to have a parent who loved me and would never hurt me. Someone I could trust."
"Baby, I'm so sorry," Willow murmured, wondering what else she could say.
"Why? My mother loved me, more than anything in the whole world," Tara said simply, a small smile crossing her face. "She … God, I'm so tired of crying," Tara said with a mirthless laugh, wiping at the tears spilling over onto her face before putting her hands back on Willow's arms and relaxing into the comfort of the warm body behind her. "The last entry in there is … it's just before she died. She was really sick, and she knew it, but - she decided not to fight it. To just let it take her, because she prayed to the Goddess that without her, I wouldn't have a reason to stay. That I'd get out and make a life for myself."
"And you did," Willow said, her heart swelling with pride at Tara's strength. She had come by it honestly, though, if her mother's words were any indication. Willow marveled at the selflessness of Tara's mother, but then realized it wasn't all that surprising. Tara was her mother's daughter.
"I did," Tara agreed, nodding. "And I think … I think she's watching me, and that she knows. She … she asked about you, y'know."
"About me?" Willow squeaked.
"MmmHmm," Tara said, murmuring her agreement. "She wondered if I was ever going to meet that redheaded girl, and if I was ever going to figure out that I was gay and in love with her," Tara said with a little laugh. "She wondered if you name was really 'Rose'."
"You called me 'Rose'?" Willow asked, wondering if she should be horrified by the name or impressed by how close it was.
"And we lived in a little thatch-roofed cottage surrounded by flowers and a white-picket fence. Mom had her own room, because she was a grown-up, so we had to share," Tara murmured, smiling gently at the childhood memory.
"And how old were you when you decided you were going to sleep with me?" Willow asked, arching an eyebrow and smirking.
"Oh, seven? Eight?" Tara said with a giggle. "We had slumber parties every night."
"Lesbian slumber parties?" Willow pressed.
"No, not lesbian slumber parties," Tara protested. "I was eight!"
"Still sounds kinda' racy for an eight-year-old," Willow replied, kissing Tara's neck again.
"Honest, all we did was eat junk food and watch movies," Tara said, letting her head loll back to give Willow more room. "Well," she said with a sly smile. "Until I was about fifteen or sixteen. >Then< they were lesbian slumber parties."
"I knew it!" Willow said triumphantly, then reaching over to nibble on Tara's ear. Tara murmured appreciatively, lifting her hand and running it through Willow's hair.
"Baby … not that I'm not enjoying this, but …"
"I know," Willow said, reluctantly releasing the tasty bit of Tara. "Research."
"Right," Tara said. "So we should, uhh … nip this in the bud."
"No, I'll nip you in the bud later," Willow said huskily. "I don't even know what that means," she went on in her normal tone of voice. "But it >sounded< naughty."
"Yes, yes it did," Tara agreed with a laugh as she sat forward, allowing Willow to stand.
"You want me to stay, or …" Willow said, gesturing towards the door.
"I'd … I'd actually like to finish looking at this stuff alone," Tara said, her eyes pleading for understanding, hoping Willow wouldn't be offended.
"Of course, Baby," Willow said easily, bending to place a light kiss on Tara's tempting lips. "I know you haven't had any time alone with your mom in a long while."
"Thank you," Tara said gratefully. "It … it really is like she's here," she mused aloud. "And I promise to introduce you two later, okay?"
"Absolutely," Willow agreed with a nod. "But, umm … could you give me a little warning? 'Cuz I think I should dress up. Don't want to meet your mom in jeans. I … kinda' wanna' make a good impression."
"She won't care what you're wearing, silly," Tara said, her eyes dancing. "She'll just care how much you love me."
"With everything I am or could hope to be," Willow said seriously. "I should … get back downstairs," she went on, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious by her bold declaration. "I'll, umm … I'll be downstairs, unless I go on a food run, or something," she went on, gesturing towards the door and backing away, part of her wishing she could just stay and sit and simply look at Tara.
"I'll be fine," Tara said with a smile. "I'll be down in another few hours, I think."
"Okay," Willow said. "I love you," she added right before she slipped out the door, smiling as she heard Tara's answering 'I love you, too' follow her down the hall.
Tara's mother had been … a remarkable woman, Willow realized. She knew that Tara had always had a lot of pain and anger mixed in with her love for her mother, and now she hoped that reading those journals had allowed her to come to a place where she could be at peace with her memory. She thought it would, and remembered the kinda' … serene look on Tara's face when she had spoken of her mother and the sacrifices she had made.
"Everything all right with Tara?" Giles asked, looking up as Willow entered the room.
"Yeah, she's fine," Willow said. "She found some of her mom's journals and was kind of reading them. She said she should have the books sorted and down here within a few hours or so."
"I'm gonna' make some cocoa," Buffy said suddenly, nodding emphatically and standing. "Do you two want any?" It was … just a little thing, but Buffy's mom had always made cocoa, and something about knowing that Tara was upstairs reading her mother's journal made Buffy ache for her own mom. She was sure that her cocoa wouldn't be as good - her mom had made the best cocoa - but she hoped that in the making of it, she would somehow feel closer to her.
"Cocoa would be lovely," Giles said, looking up with a smile.
"No, thank you," Willow said, looking at her computer and frowning as her mind raced.
Buffy went into the kitchen, wondering if that was why women grew up to be like their mothers - that they hoped they would feel closer to them by doing the same things in the same ways.
"I think … I think I'm going to take a little walk," Willow said slowly, standing up and stretching. "I'll be back in a bit."
"But - there's the Construct to consider," Giles said, frowning at Willow. "Wait for Buffy and take her with you."
"I … Giles, I … I kind of feel like being alone right now. I'll be really really careful, I promise. Like, someone who's always extra-careful times ten," Willow promised.
"I … I think this is an extremely poor idea," Giles protested. "Did something happen with Tara? Did you two have a fight, or -?"
"No, nothing like that," Willow said quickly. "Tara and I are … we're good," she said, a smile lighting up her face. "But I ... I kinda' ... I need to think about some things. Lots of things to think about."
"All right," Giles said with a sigh, trying to remember if he had ever been able to forbid the Scoobies to do anything. Even if he had, they were all adults now, and though he was concerned, he doubted the Construct would be able to find Willow. "But you will be extremely careful? Extra-careful times ten?"
"Times a hundred, even," Willow said with a nod. Giles nodded his ascent, and Willow grabbed a jacket, heading out the door and down the drive, pausing on the sidewalk and looking up and down the street. She turned right, then started walking, the day clear and bright with little fluffy clouds dotting the sky. She found the sneaky kitty cloud, seeing that it had turned into a snake.
"At least it's not a frog," she said aloud, shuffling her feet as she walked. She had a vague plan forming in her mind, and she had no idea if it was a good one or not. Tara's discovery of her mother's journals had struck a chord within her, and she had been thinking about it ever since. Tara had loved her mother with all her heart, but … she hadn't really known her, not really. She had been surprised by what she had found in those journals, and it made Willow wonder.
Her mother, Willow had always believed, didn't understand her at all. Was it maybe possible, that it was she, Willow, who didn't understand her mother?
Her head raced as her feet carried her at a more sedate pace along the sunny sidewalk, eventually leading her to the door of her parents' house. Willow looked up in surprise at the familiar dark wood, her hand lifting to trace the grains. With a glance over her shoulder, she confirmed that her mother's car was in the drive.
Was this even worth it? What did she hope to accomplish? Tying up lose ends, just in case?
Before she could answer those questions to her own satisfaction, she found herself opening the door and stepping inside. "Mom?"
"Willow," Sheila called out, stepping into the room. "Now, this is a surprise. What brings you here?"
"I just … though I'd stop by and visit. Since I was in the neighborhood and all," Willow said slowly.
"Well, come on in," Sheila said. "I was just fixing myself some lunch. Would you like anything?" she asked politely as Willow seated herself on the couch in the living room.
"No, thank you," Willow said, clasping her hands and resting her forearms on her knees, looking around the room and nodding her head, blowing out a puff of air as her mother puttered in the kitchen.
"Is anything wrong?" Willow's mom asked without preamble when she seated herself opposite Willow with a mug of coffee in her hand.
"Wrong?" Willow asked, looking up sharply with a look of startlement on her face. What could she possibly tell her mother? Hell God? Witchcraft? Dying? "No, nothing's wrong," Willow said slowly. "Everything's fine, in fact." Willow noticed a look of hurt flash across her mother's face, then disappear just as quickly.
"So there's nothing wrong?" Sheila pressed.
"No," Willow insisted. "Why would there be something wrong?" she asked, letting some of her confusion show.
"Well, you normally don't stop by. And I know you stayed here a few nights, because Alexander came by to pick up some of your things you had left," Sheila said. "So I assumed something was wrong. Did you have a fight with that friend you're living with? Bunny?"
"It's Buffy," Willow corrected automatically, rolling her eyes and wondering if it would finally sink in this time.
"Buffy. Right," Sheila said with a scowl. "I'm always getting that wrong," she observed, surprising Willow with the admission. "How is Buffy doing? I was very sorry to hear about her mother," Sheila went on, honest interest on her face.
"She's … it's tough," Willow said carefully. "But she's holding up pretty well, all things considered."
"And she's taking care of her sister? Isn't she in high school?" Sheila asked.
"Yes. Yes, she is," Willow nodded. "Buffy is Dawn's legal guardian."
"And you help out? Around the house and with Dawn?" Sheila guessed.
"As much as I can," Willow allowed. "Mostly I help with homework and stuff."
"You were always quite the student," Sheila said, a fond smile crossing her face.
"I didn't think you noticed," Willow muttered, looking at the carpet.
"I noticed," Sheila said, frowning at her daughter. "And you seem to have not noticed that my hearing is unusually sharp."
"Well, you never said anything," Willow said defensively, leaning back on the couch and crossing her arms.
"Is this what this visit is about?" Sheila asked after a moment. "Whether or not I noticed that you're incredibly bright, ambitious, and organized?"
"No, I …" Willow said, shaking her head. "I … I guess it is," she finally said, her brow furrowed as if she had just come to that realization. "I mean, you … you and Dad never said … anything. I figured none of it mattered to you."
"Didn't matter?" Sheila asked, her eyebrows flying into her hairline. "Willow, do you have any idea how proud we are of you? Don't you know that your father has been bragging about your SAT scores and your scholarships for years now?"
"How could I?" Willow demanded. "It's not like you said anything. And you never noticed … well, anything. I … how many times did I stay out all night in high school without a call home? How long did it take you to notice every time I got a haircut? How many mysterious bruises and cuts did I come home with? For all you knew, I was in a gang, doing drugs, and having sex all the time, and you didn't even notice!"
"I -" Sheila began, then stopped, flummoxed by Willow's outburst. "Now, Willow," she started again. "I realize that your father and I didn't -"
"Stop it!" Willow shouted, standing up. "Stop it with the condescension and the analysis and the touchy-feely psychobabble! Just tell me why you never >did< anything!"
"When I was a girl," Sheila said after a long moment, "times were very different. My mother … she -" Sheila stopped, taking a long breath. "She watched me like a hawk. I felt very … trapped. And untrusted. I felt like she was always waiting for me to fail, or to falter. I was a good child. I did everything I was supposed to. I studied hard, I got good grades. My friends were all good children, too. But every infraction of the rules, imagined or real, no matter how minor, resulted in very strict discipline. I promised myself I would never do that when I had a child."
"So you let me do whatever I wanted because your mother didn't let you do anything?" Willow asked, raising an eyebrow at her mother and staring at her with a look of disbelief.
"My mother picked out what I would wear to school each day. She took me to get my hair cut and told the stylist how to cut it. She chose my food. She chose my college. I wanted you to have the freedom to be your own person, and I wanted you to come to me if you ever needed guidance, but I didn't want to impose my guidance on you if it wasn't wanted or needed," Sheila said, trying to explain. "I … I think … I think I overdid it, didn't I?" she asked quietly.
"Just a little," Willow said, holding up her forefinger and her thumb very close together.
"I'm sorry, Willow. Neither your father or I ever meant to hurt you," Sheila said. "It certainly wasn't disinterest on our part. We just … we thought that if we trusted you, and if we gave you room to grow, you would do the right thing and grow into your own person. You've always been incredibly self-reliant. Even when you were very small. I remember you imperiously demanding that we teach you to read, because you wanted to do it yourself. You didn't want us reading to you," Sheila said, a strange mixture of pride and hurt on her face.
"I … I don't really remember that," Willow said slowly, understanding beginning to dawn on her.
"I do," Sheila said, a bittersweet smile on her face. "You thought we were teaching you too slowly, so you ended up teaching yourself. I'll never forget the day you came into the room with 'The Cat in The Hat' tucked under your chubby little arm, and you crawled onto your father's lap, and you read it to him."
"Did I really?" Willow asked weakly.
"You did. He just about popped the buttons of his shirt, he was so proud of you," Sheila remembered. "And then there was the time he taught you to use a calculator. I think you were … four? Five? You already had basic arithmetic down pat, but you were so impressed with the 'toy' that did it for you."
"Why do I sense there is more to this story?" Willow wondered aloud.
"Well, your father was using the apple system," Sheila explained.
"Like the computer?" Willow asked.
"No. The fruit," Sheila said. "He'd push the buttons for you and say, 'two apples plus two apples equals four apples.' And then you'd copy what he did, and he'd use another apple example. You must have played with the thing for hours, and your father went back to his work. Eventually, you went and found him and tugged on his pants leg, the little calculator in your hand, and you looked up at him and very seriously asked if it worked with oranges," Sheila said, laughing at the memory.
"I don't remember that, either," Willow said slowly.
"Between that and teaching yourself to read, your father and I realized just how gifted you were. We almost enrolled you in special schools, but you were so set on going to school with Alexander."
"Now that, I remember," Willow said, sitting back down and smiling softly. "I was so excited about getting to go to school, and that I already knew someone there."
"We had such a hard time trying to decide. You have an incredible mind, but we didn't want your social development to be stunted by those schools," Sheila said slowly. "I … I think, I hope, we did the right thing in letting you choose for yourself."
"I used to wonder what my life would be like if I'd gone to a special school," Willow said slowly. "I got teased a lot for being so smart. I used to wonder if I'd … I don't know … fit in better, someplace else."
"And now?" Sheila asked.
"Now I'm glad I went to good old Sunnydale High," Willow said with a smile. "I … my friends. Buffy, and Xander, and all the things we did in high school. I wouldn't trade that for anything."
"And staying in Sunnydale instead of going Ivy League?" Sheila pressed on.
"I'm … that's been the best thing in the whole world," Willow said, her face glowing as she thought of Tara. "I would have missed so much going anywhere else."
"I somehow doubt that," Sheila said with a smile. "You're an exceptionally gifted young woman, and I can't imagine you wouldn't have made the most of any opportunities presented to you, no matter where you went."
"They wouldn't have had Tara," Willow said before she could censor herself.
"Tara?" Sheila asked curiously.
"She's … everything," Willow said, not having any other way of explaining her bond with the other woman, her eyes lighting up and a broad grin crossing her face.
"You're in love," Sheila stated. "With a woman."
"Yes, I am," Willow said, raising her chin defiantly, as if daring her mother's disapproval.
Sheila blinked twice, her lips twitching. "Then I expect you to bring her by for dinner."
"That's it?" Willow blurted. "I'm gay, and you expect her by for dinner?"
"It's not what I would've chosen for you, but you've always known your own mind," Sheila said slowly. "And I'm not going to suddenly give up my policy of 'non-interference' now."
Willow blinked, absorbing her mother's response with a sense of surrealism. "Are you sure?" she finally asked.
"Isn't that what I'm supposed to ask?" Sheila responded. "It's a phase, or it's not. This is forever, or it's not. Either way, she makes you happy, doesn't she?" Willow nodded enthusiastically in response, finding she didn't have any words. "Then bring her by for dinner."
"I … okay. I'll ask her, and we'll see what we can arrange," Willow said, a shy smile crossing her face. "I … I really hope you like her."
"I think we probably will," Sheila said. "I can't imagine you dating anyone unpleasant."
"No. Definitely not unpleasant," Willow agreed, her thoughts turning to Tara once again. "And I should probably go. She's waiting for me."
"Don't be a stranger," Sheila said, rising to her feet when Willow stood and walking her to the door. "I know your father would love to see you."
"I'll stop by," Willow said, opening the door and stepping onto the porch. "And Mom? I love you."
"Even though I never noticed the six times you stayed out all night without calling, the three mysterious slings, two head wounds, four cuts requiring stitches, countless bruises and scrapes, and one hospital stay?" Sheila inquired innocently.
Willow stood there, stunned for a moment, before breaking into a smile. "It still took you five months to notice a major hair change," she said.
"You're right," Sheila went on. "I'm a terrible mother," she said, shaking her head in mock despair. "Willow," she went on, her expression serious. "I may not have always done the right thing, but I always did what I thought was right. I'm sorry if I was wrong."
"I love you," Willow said again, heading down the drive.
"I love you, too," Sheila called, waving at her daughter, and standing in the open doorway, watching until Willow walked out of sight.
[This message has been edited by Sassette (edited March 07, 2002).]
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Good night.
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ah, and the logo thingie at this point says "smittens (or redheaded smittens) of sassette do it on the floor" for now. In reference to lisa's t-shirts. other slogans available by request.
i think i reference things too much...
[This message has been edited by Owl (edited March 06, 2002).][/B][/QUOTE]
I'd so much rather do it on a bed..but...does the floor have carpeting?
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Chapter 37 is an amazingly sweet journey,
It made me go running to call my own mommy.
Sass, everything you write is just a pleasure to read.
But I have strapped on my harness and your warning I'll heed
Assuming crash positions is what I'll be doing
In anticipation of the next Chapter and the angst ensuing.
Edited cause I'm teary eyed and can't spell.
[This message has been edited by jomarch (edited March 07, 2002).]
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**Bobo's Mom: I completely know what you mean. It would probably take me days to really explain how much 'me' there is in this fic. I certainly didn't intend it to turn out like that, but ... *shrug*
**W.I.: It's best not to ask about the carpeting. However, I personally feel (because it's late, I'm tired, and my brain goes to scary dirty places when it's late and I'm tired) the slogan should read "Smittens do it on the floor, on the bed, and various other horizontal surfaces, as well as a few vertical ones depending on their mood." I just have no idea how one would go about fitting all that on a crash helmet.
**jomarch: Thank you, jomarch - I appreciate the poems *G* Have fun at your mom's.
**W.I.: Something up on the way home? In broad daylight? Of course, the Construct doesn't need nighttime to go after Willow, as we've seen. Maybe I'll give them a break? *G*
-Sass
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quote:
Originally posted by Sassette:
Truckers calling their wives, Smittens calling their moms, Cats and Dogs - living together - Mass Hysteria. Can I just say you people are incredibly fast? I think this update has been up for, what? Fifteen, twenty minutes, tops?
**jomarch: Thank you, jomarch - I appreciate the poems *G* Have fun at your mom's.-Sass
The poems are a very, very small offering for a very, very good story. I guess the best thing to say is to paraphrase Tara - Anything you need, anytime you need it.
Us smittens will obey and serve and wear matching outfits.
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quote:
Originally posted by Owl:
a helmet with logo for jomarch.....
is that the special edition redhead logo, or your basic otherheaded smitten helmet?
and... let 'em stare! you look fabulous!
you might want to ask tiny jewish santa*, though. In the meantime, i'll try to get some in stock...
(*please tell me you recognize the reference here. otherwise, i just sound odd)Okay. eagerly awaiting update....
Well, unfortunately i'm not a red-head [feeling left out ] though my mom is. I take after my dad so I have dark brown hair. Can I just have a basic sparkly helmet with smitten logo that can hold beer in the carabeener mug. And yes, people outside are staring as I have been laughing quite loudly picturing all of us at our monitors all decked out waiting for the update.
Waves to Pixie- hope you liked the new ode verse.
Waves frantically to Sassette- Update please, all your smittens are accessorised and ready.
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posted March 06, 2002 21:48quote:
Originally posted by Owl:
a helmet with logo for jomarch.....
is that the special edition redhead logo, or your basic otherheaded smitten helmet?
and... let 'em stare! you look fabulous!
you might want to ask tiny jewish santa*, though. In the meantime, i'll try to get some in stock...
(*please tell me you recognize the reference here. otherwise, i just sound odd)Okay. eagerly awaiting update....
Well, unfortunately i'm not a red-head [feeling left out ] though my mom is. I take after my dad so I have dark brown hair. Can I just have a basic sparkly helmet with smitten logo that can hold beer in the carabeener mug. And yes, people outside are staring as I have been laughing quite loudly picturing all of us at our monitors all decked out waiting for the update.
Waves to Pixie- hope you liked the new ode verse.
Waves frantically to Sassette- Update please, all your smittens are accessorised and ready.
quote:IP: LoggedOwlCool Monster Fighter see wiccansillusion's post above for the carabeener mug reference.
ah, and the logo thingie at this point says "smittens (or redheaded smittens) of sassette do it on the floor" for now. In reference to lisa's t-shirts. other slogans available by request.
i think i reference things too much...
[This message has been edited by Owl (edited March 06, 2002).]
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posted March 06, 2002 21:57 The reference is to "Listening to Fear" [you might know it as "big pineapple"] from season five. Willow brings Joyce a Beer Helmet as a get well present when she is in the hospital. She declares, " Oh, I feel just like Santa Claus, except thinner and younger and female and, well, Jewish."see wiccansillusion's post above for the carabeener mug reference.
ah, and the logo thingie at this point says "smittens (or redheaded smittens) of sassette do it on the floor" for now. In reference to lisa's t-shirts. other slogans available by request.
i think i reference things too much...
[This message has been edited by Owl (edited March 06, 2002).]
IP: LoggedPixieSassy Eggs quote:
Originally posted by jomarch:
Waves to Pixie- hope you liked the new ode verse.
*waves back* You so rock jomarch!! I hope I didn't wake my neighbors last night with my giggling.
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posted March 06, 2002 22:18quote:
Originally posted by jomarch:
Waves to Pixie- hope you liked the new ode verse.
*waves back* You so rock jomarch!! I hope I didn't wake my neighbors last night with my giggling.
quote:IP: LoggedSassetteCool Monster Fighter Title: Answering Darkness Part 37 - Mothers and Daughters
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to pink_overalls@yahoo.com
Summary: Not much actually happens. Some bonding occurs.
Spoiler Warning: Up to and including "Tabula Rasa" in Season 6.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm just borrowing them because Season 6 angst is running high, and I want my happy ending now, dammit! So I'm writing it … but it'll be awhile until I get to that part, so bear with me (or "bare" with me if you're naughty).
Rating: PG-13
Notes: For the purpose of this story, all events of Tabula Rasa took place exactly as shown in the series; however, no subsequent episodes will affect this piece.
Answering Darkness Part 37
Mothers and Daughters
By Sassette
"Maybe I should go help her," Willow said, frowning up at the stairs.
"She said she didn't need any help," Giles said patiently, not looking up from the book in his hands.
"Well, yeah," Willow hedged, "but she's been up there for a long time, and with the helpfulness, she could be back down here, where all the research action is. We don't want Tara to feel all left out or anything right?"
"Willow," Buffy said, a little smile crossing her face at Willow's agitation. Nobody, Buffy knew, could get worked up over nothing quite like Willow could. "She's looking through her mother's things. Give her another ten minutes or so before you go barging in, okay?"
"But ..." Willow started to protest, only to trail off. "Stupid, Rosenberg," she muttered, looking back at the little bar marking the progress of her file download. She had insisted that Tara needed to look at her mother's things alone. Willow shifted uncomfortably in her chair, tapping a pencil on the table. It had seemed to Willow like a very private thing, for a mother and daughter to share, and so she had opted to stay downstairs. Now, with Tara having been upstairs for three hours, she wanted to stand up and kick herself in the head for being an idiot.
"Go upstairs," Giles said, his voice full of exasperation as he rolled his eyes at Willow's fidgeting.
"Right," Willow said eagerly, immediately standing up and bolting up the stairs. Once she reached the door she hesitated. She didn't want to intrude, and she knew that Tara's mother had meant the world to Tara. Still, she was getting kind of worried. Her respect for Tara's privacy and her unease at Tara's absence warred within her. She knew that whatever Tara found, she would eventually share with her, no matter own private it was, but ... it just seemed right to let Tara look everything over first by herself. Then again, what if Tara needed her? What if Tara was feeling lost and alone and needed Willow Hugs?
"Come in," she heard Tara's voice call. Because it was muffled by the door, Willow found she couldn't get a read on what Tara was feeling from the tone. She turned the knob, easing the door open and poking her head in, worried eyes finding Tara, sitting in front of a trunk with her back to the doorway, her legs crossed under her in her usual manner.
"I ... umm," Willow said, unsure of how to explain her presence.
"Was worried? And kicking yourself for telling me to do this alone?" Tara asked mildly, turning her head to look at Willow, a sad sweet smile on her face.
"Are you okay, Baby?" Willow asked, entering the room and closing the door softly behind her. "You've been up here for awhile, and I thought that maybe you'd ..."
"Need a hug?" Tara finished the sentence for her, her eyes falling to her lap and her shoulders dropping. "Because I do," she said quietly.
"Awww, honey," Willow said, crossing the room with a few long strides and dropping to the floor behind Tara, and tucking one leg under her, the other resting next to Tara, bent at the knee, her foot resting flat on the floor.
Slowly, Willow pulled Tara back against her chest, her arms wrapping around her middle. Tara let her head fall back on Willow's shoulder with a sigh, one arm resting on Willow's bent knee, and the other stroking the smooth skin of the forearms hugging her close.
"Wanna talk about it?" Willow murmured into her hair, turning her head a fraction to place a light kiss on her temple.
"She kept a journal," Tara said, her voice tired. "I never knew," she went on, shaking her head a little in wonder. "She wrote in it every single day, and I never knew. She - she starts each entry 'Dear Tara', like she knew I'd see it someday. Like it's full of things she wanted me to know, but didn't think she'd never tell me."
"You never snuck into your mom's stuff?" Willow asked curiously.
"No, never," Tara said. "Except that once ... I got into her trunk, and there was a little compartment in it. I managed to get it open, but it was really tricky. That's when I found grandmother's doll's eye crystal. At least, I think it was grandmother's," she said, a wistful look on her face. "But Mom was ... she was so ... sad ..." she went on, her eyes filling with confusion, "when I found it, I never looked through her things again. I tried to give it back, but she told me to keep it. And I did, until I gave it to you."
"I ... I found it, in the dresser yesterday," Willow said slowly. "I...I thought we lost it?"
"Dawn must have found it," Tara said. "I found it in her room last week. I ... I want you to have it."
"Still?" Willow asked, hugging Tara tighter.
"If ... if it's too much for you - I mean, if it will make you want to cast ..." she said hesitantly.
"No," Willow said, a thoughtful look on her face. "It - it doesn't. I must have sat with it for an hour, and I just ... I felt really clear."
"It does that," Tara said with a slow smile. "It's a nice crystal."
"Very nice," Willow said with a smile, nuzzling Tara's neck, making Tara wonder if they were still talking about the same thing. "What did you find in your mom's journal?" she asked after placing several delicate kisses up Tara's neck to her ear.
"She was ... very sad," Tara said slowly. "I remember being really little, and catching my mother looking at me, and her eyes were so loving and sad, I ... I just walked up to her and crawled into her lap and hugged her."
"Why do you think she was so sad?" Willow asked after a moment, feeling like this was something Tara had to share.
"I found the entry she wrote when she found out she was having a girl," Tara said, her hand drifting down to hover over the cover of the journal in her lap. "She ... she cried. She wrote that she was so happy to be pregnant, and that from the moment she knew she was pregnant, she loved me. But she cried because it broke her heart to know that my family would have to hurt me to keep me safe." Tara paused, taking a deep breath. "She really believed in the demon. I ... I always, somewhere inside, wondered why she never just took me away from Dad and Donnie. Why we didn't just go somewhere we could be happy."
"That … that must have been so hard for her," Willow mused aloud, her gaze distant as she tried to put herself in Tara's mother's place. What would she do if she were sure she was a demon? What would she do if she were sure she'd hurt people if she left?
"It … I sometimes thought that … a mother is supposed to love you more than anything," Tara said on a whisper, her voice so faint Willow could barely make it out. "And … I'd get so mad at her," she confessed, her voice lost. "I was so angry that … that she put the world first. That she chose keeping other people safe over keeping me safe. Stupid, huh?"
"No … not stupid," Willow disagreed, shifting her wait to put her other leg alongside Tara and pulling her as close as she could given their respective positions. "I … It makes perfect sense, baby, and you didn't do anything wrong. You were really young, weren't you? You stopped being mad when you got older and understood, didn't you?"
Tara nodded her confirmation of Willow's words. "But I … I got so mad at her again when she died. It was like - she got out and she left me there with them. I wanted to go, too. I wanted to follow her wherever it was she went, and I - I remember running out into the woods and just … screaming into the sky because she left me behind."
"Oh, Honey …" Willow said, murmuring comforting nonsense words into her hair and rocking her gently.
"She … she wrote in here, why she didn't leave," Tara said quietly, a look of aching peace on her face. "I … I finally understand. I thought I did when I got older - that she couldn't leave because she was afraid she'd hurt someone. But I was wrong. She didn't choose the world over me. She was afraid that if she took me away >she< would hurt me. She w-wrote that she … she wanted me to know what it was like to have a parent who loved me and would never hurt me. Someone I could trust."
"Baby, I'm so sorry," Willow murmured, wondering what else she could say.
"Why? My mother loved me, more than anything in the whole world," Tara said simply, a small smile crossing her face. "She … God, I'm so tired of crying," Tara said with a mirthless laugh, wiping at the tears spilling over onto her face before putting her hands back on Willow's arms and relaxing into the comfort of the warm body behind her. "The last entry in there is … it's just before she died. She was really sick, and she knew it, but - she decided not to fight it. To just let it take her, because she prayed to the Goddess that without her, I wouldn't have a reason to stay. That I'd get out and make a life for myself."
"And you did," Willow said, her heart swelling with pride at Tara's strength. She had come by it honestly, though, if her mother's words were any indication. Willow marveled at the selflessness of Tara's mother, but then realized it wasn't all that surprising. Tara was her mother's daughter.
"I did," Tara agreed, nodding. "And I think … I think she's watching me, and that she knows. She … she asked about you, y'know."
"About me?" Willow squeaked.
"MmmHmm," Tara said, murmuring her agreement. "She wondered if I was ever going to meet that redheaded girl, and if I was ever going to figure out that I was gay and in love with her," Tara said with a little laugh. "She wondered if you name was really 'Rose'."
"You called me 'Rose'?" Willow asked, wondering if she should be horrified by the name or impressed by how close it was.
"And we lived in a little thatch-roofed cottage surrounded by flowers and a white-picket fence. Mom had her own room, because she was a grown-up, so we had to share," Tara murmured, smiling gently at the childhood memory.
"And how old were you when you decided you were going to sleep with me?" Willow asked, arching an eyebrow and smirking.
"Oh, seven? Eight?" Tara said with a giggle. "We had slumber parties every night."
"Lesbian slumber parties?" Willow pressed.
"No, not lesbian slumber parties," Tara protested. "I was eight!"
"Still sounds kinda' racy for an eight-year-old," Willow replied, kissing Tara's neck again.
"Honest, all we did was eat junk food and watch movies," Tara said, letting her head loll back to give Willow more room. "Well," she said with a sly smile. "Until I was about fifteen or sixteen. >Then< they were lesbian slumber parties."
"I knew it!" Willow said triumphantly, then reaching over to nibble on Tara's ear. Tara murmured appreciatively, lifting her hand and running it through Willow's hair.
"Baby … not that I'm not enjoying this, but …"
"I know," Willow said, reluctantly releasing the tasty bit of Tara. "Research."
"Right," Tara said. "So we should, uhh … nip this in the bud."
"No, I'll nip you in the bud later," Willow said huskily. "I don't even know what that means," she went on in her normal tone of voice. "But it >sounded< naughty."
"Yes, yes it did," Tara agreed with a laugh as she sat forward, allowing Willow to stand.
"You want me to stay, or …" Willow said, gesturing towards the door.
"I'd … I'd actually like to finish looking at this stuff alone," Tara said, her eyes pleading for understanding, hoping Willow wouldn't be offended.
"Of course, Baby," Willow said easily, bending to place a light kiss on Tara's tempting lips. "I know you haven't had any time alone with your mom in a long while."
"Thank you," Tara said gratefully. "It … it really is like she's here," she mused aloud. "And I promise to introduce you two later, okay?"
"Absolutely," Willow agreed with a nod. "But, umm … could you give me a little warning? 'Cuz I think I should dress up. Don't want to meet your mom in jeans. I … kinda' wanna' make a good impression."
"She won't care what you're wearing, silly," Tara said, her eyes dancing. "She'll just care how much you love me."
"With everything I am or could hope to be," Willow said seriously. "I should … get back downstairs," she went on, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious by her bold declaration. "I'll, umm … I'll be downstairs, unless I go on a food run, or something," she went on, gesturing towards the door and backing away, part of her wishing she could just stay and sit and simply look at Tara.
"I'll be fine," Tara said with a smile. "I'll be down in another few hours, I think."
"Okay," Willow said. "I love you," she added right before she slipped out the door, smiling as she heard Tara's answering 'I love you, too' follow her down the hall.
Tara's mother had been … a remarkable woman, Willow realized. She knew that Tara had always had a lot of pain and anger mixed in with her love for her mother, and now she hoped that reading those journals had allowed her to come to a place where she could be at peace with her memory. She thought it would, and remembered the kinda' … serene look on Tara's face when she had spoken of her mother and the sacrifices she had made.
"Everything all right with Tara?" Giles asked, looking up as Willow entered the room.
"Yeah, she's fine," Willow said. "She found some of her mom's journals and was kind of reading them. She said she should have the books sorted and down here within a few hours or so."
"I'm gonna' make some cocoa," Buffy said suddenly, nodding emphatically and standing. "Do you two want any?" It was … just a little thing, but Buffy's mom had always made cocoa, and something about knowing that Tara was upstairs reading her mother's journal made Buffy ache for her own mom. She was sure that her cocoa wouldn't be as good - her mom had made the best cocoa - but she hoped that in the making of it, she would somehow feel closer to her.
"Cocoa would be lovely," Giles said, looking up with a smile.
"No, thank you," Willow said, looking at her computer and frowning as her mind raced.
Buffy went into the kitchen, wondering if that was why women grew up to be like their mothers - that they hoped they would feel closer to them by doing the same things in the same ways.
"I think … I think I'm going to take a little walk," Willow said slowly, standing up and stretching. "I'll be back in a bit."
"But - there's the Construct to consider," Giles said, frowning at Willow. "Wait for Buffy and take her with you."
"I … Giles, I … I kind of feel like being alone right now. I'll be really really careful, I promise. Like, someone who's always extra-careful times ten," Willow promised.
"I … I think this is an extremely poor idea," Giles protested. "Did something happen with Tara? Did you two have a fight, or -?"
"No, nothing like that," Willow said quickly. "Tara and I are … we're good," she said, a smile lighting up her face. "But I ... I kinda' ... I need to think about some things. Lots of things to think about."
"All right," Giles said with a sigh, trying to remember if he had ever been able to forbid the Scoobies to do anything. Even if he had, they were all adults now, and though he was concerned, he doubted the Construct would be able to find Willow. "But you will be extremely careful? Extra-careful times ten?"
"Times a hundred, even," Willow said with a nod. Giles nodded his ascent, and Willow grabbed a jacket, heading out the door and down the drive, pausing on the sidewalk and looking up and down the street. She turned right, then started walking, the day clear and bright with little fluffy clouds dotting the sky. She found the sneaky kitty cloud, seeing that it had turned into a snake.
"At least it's not a frog," she said aloud, shuffling her feet as she walked. She had a vague plan forming in her mind, and she had no idea if it was a good one or not. Tara's discovery of her mother's journals had struck a chord within her, and she had been thinking about it ever since. Tara had loved her mother with all her heart, but … she hadn't really known her, not really. She had been surprised by what she had found in those journals, and it made Willow wonder.
Her mother, Willow had always believed, didn't understand her at all. Was it maybe possible, that it was she, Willow, who didn't understand her mother?
Her head raced as her feet carried her at a more sedate pace along the sunny sidewalk, eventually leading her to the door of her parents' house. Willow looked up in surprise at the familiar dark wood, her hand lifting to trace the grains. With a glance over her shoulder, she confirmed that her mother's car was in the drive.
Was this even worth it? What did she hope to accomplish? Tying up lose ends, just in case?
Before she could answer those questions to her own satisfaction, she found herself opening the door and stepping inside. "Mom?"
"Willow," Sheila called out, stepping into the room. "Now, this is a surprise. What brings you here?"
"I just … though I'd stop by and visit. Since I was in the neighborhood and all," Willow said slowly.
"Well, come on in," Sheila said. "I was just fixing myself some lunch. Would you like anything?" she asked politely as Willow seated herself on the couch in the living room.
"No, thank you," Willow said, clasping her hands and resting her forearms on her knees, looking around the room and nodding her head, blowing out a puff of air as her mother puttered in the kitchen.
"Is anything wrong?" Willow's mom asked without preamble when she seated herself opposite Willow with a mug of coffee in her hand.
"Wrong?" Willow asked, looking up sharply with a look of startlement on her face. What could she possibly tell her mother? Hell God? Witchcraft? Dying? "No, nothing's wrong," Willow said slowly. "Everything's fine, in fact." Willow noticed a look of hurt flash across her mother's face, then disappear just as quickly.
"So there's nothing wrong?" Sheila pressed.
"No," Willow insisted. "Why would there be something wrong?" she asked, letting some of her confusion show.
"Well, you normally don't stop by. And I know you stayed here a few nights, because Alexander came by to pick up some of your things you had left," Sheila said. "So I assumed something was wrong. Did you have a fight with that friend you're living with? Bunny?"
"It's Buffy," Willow corrected automatically, rolling her eyes and wondering if it would finally sink in this time.
"Buffy. Right," Sheila said with a scowl. "I'm always getting that wrong," she observed, surprising Willow with the admission. "How is Buffy doing? I was very sorry to hear about her mother," Sheila went on, honest interest on her face.
"She's … it's tough," Willow said carefully. "But she's holding up pretty well, all things considered."
"And she's taking care of her sister? Isn't she in high school?" Sheila asked.
"Yes. Yes, she is," Willow nodded. "Buffy is Dawn's legal guardian."
"And you help out? Around the house and with Dawn?" Sheila guessed.
"As much as I can," Willow allowed. "Mostly I help with homework and stuff."
"You were always quite the student," Sheila said, a fond smile crossing her face.
"I didn't think you noticed," Willow muttered, looking at the carpet.
"I noticed," Sheila said, frowning at her daughter. "And you seem to have not noticed that my hearing is unusually sharp."
"Well, you never said anything," Willow said defensively, leaning back on the couch and crossing her arms.
"Is this what this visit is about?" Sheila asked after a moment. "Whether or not I noticed that you're incredibly bright, ambitious, and organized?"
"No, I …" Willow said, shaking her head. "I … I guess it is," she finally said, her brow furrowed as if she had just come to that realization. "I mean, you … you and Dad never said … anything. I figured none of it mattered to you."
"Didn't matter?" Sheila asked, her eyebrows flying into her hairline. "Willow, do you have any idea how proud we are of you? Don't you know that your father has been bragging about your SAT scores and your scholarships for years now?"
"How could I?" Willow demanded. "It's not like you said anything. And you never noticed … well, anything. I … how many times did I stay out all night in high school without a call home? How long did it take you to notice every time I got a haircut? How many mysterious bruises and cuts did I come home with? For all you knew, I was in a gang, doing drugs, and having sex all the time, and you didn't even notice!"
"I -" Sheila began, then stopped, flummoxed by Willow's outburst. "Now, Willow," she started again. "I realize that your father and I didn't -"
"Stop it!" Willow shouted, standing up. "Stop it with the condescension and the analysis and the touchy-feely psychobabble! Just tell me why you never >did< anything!"
"When I was a girl," Sheila said after a long moment, "times were very different. My mother … she -" Sheila stopped, taking a long breath. "She watched me like a hawk. I felt very … trapped. And untrusted. I felt like she was always waiting for me to fail, or to falter. I was a good child. I did everything I was supposed to. I studied hard, I got good grades. My friends were all good children, too. But every infraction of the rules, imagined or real, no matter how minor, resulted in very strict discipline. I promised myself I would never do that when I had a child."
"So you let me do whatever I wanted because your mother didn't let you do anything?" Willow asked, raising an eyebrow at her mother and staring at her with a look of disbelief.
"My mother picked out what I would wear to school each day. She took me to get my hair cut and told the stylist how to cut it. She chose my food. She chose my college. I wanted you to have the freedom to be your own person, and I wanted you to come to me if you ever needed guidance, but I didn't want to impose my guidance on you if it wasn't wanted or needed," Sheila said, trying to explain. "I … I think … I think I overdid it, didn't I?" she asked quietly.
"Just a little," Willow said, holding up her forefinger and her thumb very close together.
"I'm sorry, Willow. Neither your father or I ever meant to hurt you," Sheila said. "It certainly wasn't disinterest on our part. We just … we thought that if we trusted you, and if we gave you room to grow, you would do the right thing and grow into your own person. You've always been incredibly self-reliant. Even when you were very small. I remember you imperiously demanding that we teach you to read, because you wanted to do it yourself. You didn't want us reading to you," Sheila said, a strange mixture of pride and hurt on her face.
"I … I don't really remember that," Willow said slowly, understanding beginning to dawn on her.
"I do," Sheila said, a bittersweet smile on her face. "You thought we were teaching you too slowly, so you ended up teaching yourself. I'll never forget the day you came into the room with 'The Cat in The Hat' tucked under your chubby little arm, and you crawled onto your father's lap, and you read it to him."
"Did I really?" Willow asked weakly.
"You did. He just about popped the buttons of his shirt, he was so proud of you," Sheila remembered. "And then there was the time he taught you to use a calculator. I think you were … four? Five? You already had basic arithmetic down pat, but you were so impressed with the 'toy' that did it for you."
"Why do I sense there is more to this story?" Willow wondered aloud.
"Well, your father was using the apple system," Sheila explained.
"Like the computer?" Willow asked.
"No. The fruit," Sheila said. "He'd push the buttons for you and say, 'two apples plus two apples equals four apples.' And then you'd copy what he did, and he'd use another apple example. You must have played with the thing for hours, and your father went back to his work. Eventually, you went and found him and tugged on his pants leg, the little calculator in your hand, and you looked up at him and very seriously asked if it worked with oranges," Sheila said, laughing at the memory.
"I don't remember that, either," Willow said slowly.
"Between that and teaching yourself to read, your father and I realized just how gifted you were. We almost enrolled you in special schools, but you were so set on going to school with Alexander."
"Now that, I remember," Willow said, sitting back down and smiling softly. "I was so excited about getting to go to school, and that I already knew someone there."
"We had such a hard time trying to decide. You have an incredible mind, but we didn't want your social development to be stunted by those schools," Sheila said slowly. "I … I think, I hope, we did the right thing in letting you choose for yourself."
"I used to wonder what my life would be like if I'd gone to a special school," Willow said slowly. "I got teased a lot for being so smart. I used to wonder if I'd … I don't know … fit in better, someplace else."
"And now?" Sheila asked.
"Now I'm glad I went to good old Sunnydale High," Willow said with a smile. "I … my friends. Buffy, and Xander, and all the things we did in high school. I wouldn't trade that for anything."
"And staying in Sunnydale instead of going Ivy League?" Sheila pressed on.
"I'm … that's been the best thing in the whole world," Willow said, her face glowing as she thought of Tara. "I would have missed so much going anywhere else."
"I somehow doubt that," Sheila said with a smile. "You're an exceptionally gifted young woman, and I can't imagine you wouldn't have made the most of any opportunities presented to you, no matter where you went."
"They wouldn't have had Tara," Willow said before she could censor herself.
"Tara?" Sheila asked curiously.
"She's … everything," Willow said, not having any other way of explaining her bond with the other woman, her eyes lighting up and a broad grin crossing her face.
"You're in love," Sheila stated. "With a woman."
"Yes, I am," Willow said, raising her chin defiantly, as if daring her mother's disapproval.
Sheila blinked twice, her lips twitching. "Then I expect you to bring her by for dinner."
"That's it?" Willow blurted. "I'm gay, and you expect her by for dinner?"
"It's not what I would've chosen for you, but you've always known your own mind," Sheila said slowly. "And I'm not going to suddenly give up my policy of 'non-interference' now."
Willow blinked, absorbing her mother's response with a sense of surrealism. "Are you sure?" she finally asked.
"Isn't that what I'm supposed to ask?" Sheila responded. "It's a phase, or it's not. This is forever, or it's not. Either way, she makes you happy, doesn't she?" Willow nodded enthusiastically in response, finding she didn't have any words. "Then bring her by for dinner."
"I … okay. I'll ask her, and we'll see what we can arrange," Willow said, a shy smile crossing her face. "I … I really hope you like her."
"I think we probably will," Sheila said. "I can't imagine you dating anyone unpleasant."
"No. Definitely not unpleasant," Willow agreed, her thoughts turning to Tara once again. "And I should probably go. She's waiting for me."
"Don't be a stranger," Sheila said, rising to her feet when Willow stood and walking her to the door. "I know your father would love to see you."
"I'll stop by," Willow said, opening the door and stepping onto the porch. "And Mom? I love you."
"Even though I never noticed the six times you stayed out all night without calling, the three mysterious slings, two head wounds, four cuts requiring stitches, countless bruises and scrapes, and one hospital stay?" Sheila inquired innocently.
Willow stood there, stunned for a moment, before breaking into a smile. "It still took you five months to notice a major hair change," she said.
"You're right," Sheila went on. "I'm a terrible mother," she said, shaking her head in mock despair. "Willow," she went on, her expression serious. "I may not have always done the right thing, but I always did what I thought was right. I'm sorry if I was wrong."
"I love you," Willow said again, heading down the drive.
"I love you, too," Sheila called, waving at her daughter, and standing in the open doorway, watching until Willow walked out of sight.
[This message has been edited by Sassette (edited March 07, 2002).]
IP: Logged
posted March 07, 2002 01:08 If you were expecting plot development or anything important to happen, I'm sorry. However, you've all been good little Smittens (*snicker*) today, so here. There is not, in fact, a cliffhanger today. Just a tidy little ending. Of course, that doesn't mean I can't start the next part with something truly evil and horrific (I had to add in that last part, or my FanFic Cliffhanger Writer's Card might get revoked).Title: Answering Darkness Part 37 - Mothers and Daughters
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to pink_overalls@yahoo.com
Summary: Not much actually happens. Some bonding occurs.
Spoiler Warning: Up to and including "Tabula Rasa" in Season 6.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm just borrowing them because Season 6 angst is running high, and I want my happy ending now, dammit! So I'm writing it … but it'll be awhile until I get to that part, so bear with me (or "bare" with me if you're naughty).
Rating: PG-13
Notes: For the purpose of this story, all events of Tabula Rasa took place exactly as shown in the series; however, no subsequent episodes will affect this piece.
Answering Darkness Part 37
Mothers and Daughters
By Sassette
"Maybe I should go help her," Willow said, frowning up at the stairs.
"She said she didn't need any help," Giles said patiently, not looking up from the book in his hands.
"Well, yeah," Willow hedged, "but she's been up there for a long time, and with the helpfulness, she could be back down here, where all the research action is. We don't want Tara to feel all left out or anything right?"
"Willow," Buffy said, a little smile crossing her face at Willow's agitation. Nobody, Buffy knew, could get worked up over nothing quite like Willow could. "She's looking through her mother's things. Give her another ten minutes or so before you go barging in, okay?"
"But ..." Willow started to protest, only to trail off. "Stupid, Rosenberg," she muttered, looking back at the little bar marking the progress of her file download. She had insisted that Tara needed to look at her mother's things alone. Willow shifted uncomfortably in her chair, tapping a pencil on the table. It had seemed to Willow like a very private thing, for a mother and daughter to share, and so she had opted to stay downstairs. Now, with Tara having been upstairs for three hours, she wanted to stand up and kick herself in the head for being an idiot.
"Go upstairs," Giles said, his voice full of exasperation as he rolled his eyes at Willow's fidgeting.
"Right," Willow said eagerly, immediately standing up and bolting up the stairs. Once she reached the door she hesitated. She didn't want to intrude, and she knew that Tara's mother had meant the world to Tara. Still, she was getting kind of worried. Her respect for Tara's privacy and her unease at Tara's absence warred within her. She knew that whatever Tara found, she would eventually share with her, no matter own private it was, but ... it just seemed right to let Tara look everything over first by herself. Then again, what if Tara needed her? What if Tara was feeling lost and alone and needed Willow Hugs?
"Come in," she heard Tara's voice call. Because it was muffled by the door, Willow found she couldn't get a read on what Tara was feeling from the tone. She turned the knob, easing the door open and poking her head in, worried eyes finding Tara, sitting in front of a trunk with her back to the doorway, her legs crossed under her in her usual manner.
"I ... umm," Willow said, unsure of how to explain her presence.
"Was worried? And kicking yourself for telling me to do this alone?" Tara asked mildly, turning her head to look at Willow, a sad sweet smile on her face.
"Are you okay, Baby?" Willow asked, entering the room and closing the door softly behind her. "You've been up here for awhile, and I thought that maybe you'd ..."
"Need a hug?" Tara finished the sentence for her, her eyes falling to her lap and her shoulders dropping. "Because I do," she said quietly.
"Awww, honey," Willow said, crossing the room with a few long strides and dropping to the floor behind Tara, and tucking one leg under her, the other resting next to Tara, bent at the knee, her foot resting flat on the floor.
Slowly, Willow pulled Tara back against her chest, her arms wrapping around her middle. Tara let her head fall back on Willow's shoulder with a sigh, one arm resting on Willow's bent knee, and the other stroking the smooth skin of the forearms hugging her close.
"Wanna talk about it?" Willow murmured into her hair, turning her head a fraction to place a light kiss on her temple.
"She kept a journal," Tara said, her voice tired. "I never knew," she went on, shaking her head a little in wonder. "She wrote in it every single day, and I never knew. She - she starts each entry 'Dear Tara', like she knew I'd see it someday. Like it's full of things she wanted me to know, but didn't think she'd never tell me."
"You never snuck into your mom's stuff?" Willow asked curiously.
"No, never," Tara said. "Except that once ... I got into her trunk, and there was a little compartment in it. I managed to get it open, but it was really tricky. That's when I found grandmother's doll's eye crystal. At least, I think it was grandmother's," she said, a wistful look on her face. "But Mom was ... she was so ... sad ..." she went on, her eyes filling with confusion, "when I found it, I never looked through her things again. I tried to give it back, but she told me to keep it. And I did, until I gave it to you."
"I ... I found it, in the dresser yesterday," Willow said slowly. "I...I thought we lost it?"
"Dawn must have found it," Tara said. "I found it in her room last week. I ... I want you to have it."
"Still?" Willow asked, hugging Tara tighter.
"If ... if it's too much for you - I mean, if it will make you want to cast ..." she said hesitantly.
"No," Willow said, a thoughtful look on her face. "It - it doesn't. I must have sat with it for an hour, and I just ... I felt really clear."
"It does that," Tara said with a slow smile. "It's a nice crystal."
"Very nice," Willow said with a smile, nuzzling Tara's neck, making Tara wonder if they were still talking about the same thing. "What did you find in your mom's journal?" she asked after placing several delicate kisses up Tara's neck to her ear.
"She was ... very sad," Tara said slowly. "I remember being really little, and catching my mother looking at me, and her eyes were so loving and sad, I ... I just walked up to her and crawled into her lap and hugged her."
"Why do you think she was so sad?" Willow asked after a moment, feeling like this was something Tara had to share.
"I found the entry she wrote when she found out she was having a girl," Tara said, her hand drifting down to hover over the cover of the journal in her lap. "She ... she cried. She wrote that she was so happy to be pregnant, and that from the moment she knew she was pregnant, she loved me. But she cried because it broke her heart to know that my family would have to hurt me to keep me safe." Tara paused, taking a deep breath. "She really believed in the demon. I ... I always, somewhere inside, wondered why she never just took me away from Dad and Donnie. Why we didn't just go somewhere we could be happy."
"That … that must have been so hard for her," Willow mused aloud, her gaze distant as she tried to put herself in Tara's mother's place. What would she do if she were sure she was a demon? What would she do if she were sure she'd hurt people if she left?
"It … I sometimes thought that … a mother is supposed to love you more than anything," Tara said on a whisper, her voice so faint Willow could barely make it out. "And … I'd get so mad at her," she confessed, her voice lost. "I was so angry that … that she put the world first. That she chose keeping other people safe over keeping me safe. Stupid, huh?"
"No … not stupid," Willow disagreed, shifting her wait to put her other leg alongside Tara and pulling her as close as she could given their respective positions. "I … It makes perfect sense, baby, and you didn't do anything wrong. You were really young, weren't you? You stopped being mad when you got older and understood, didn't you?"
Tara nodded her confirmation of Willow's words. "But I … I got so mad at her again when she died. It was like - she got out and she left me there with them. I wanted to go, too. I wanted to follow her wherever it was she went, and I - I remember running out into the woods and just … screaming into the sky because she left me behind."
"Oh, Honey …" Willow said, murmuring comforting nonsense words into her hair and rocking her gently.
"She … she wrote in here, why she didn't leave," Tara said quietly, a look of aching peace on her face. "I … I finally understand. I thought I did when I got older - that she couldn't leave because she was afraid she'd hurt someone. But I was wrong. She didn't choose the world over me. She was afraid that if she took me away >she< would hurt me. She w-wrote that she … she wanted me to know what it was like to have a parent who loved me and would never hurt me. Someone I could trust."
"Baby, I'm so sorry," Willow murmured, wondering what else she could say.
"Why? My mother loved me, more than anything in the whole world," Tara said simply, a small smile crossing her face. "She … God, I'm so tired of crying," Tara said with a mirthless laugh, wiping at the tears spilling over onto her face before putting her hands back on Willow's arms and relaxing into the comfort of the warm body behind her. "The last entry in there is … it's just before she died. She was really sick, and she knew it, but - she decided not to fight it. To just let it take her, because she prayed to the Goddess that without her, I wouldn't have a reason to stay. That I'd get out and make a life for myself."
"And you did," Willow said, her heart swelling with pride at Tara's strength. She had come by it honestly, though, if her mother's words were any indication. Willow marveled at the selflessness of Tara's mother, but then realized it wasn't all that surprising. Tara was her mother's daughter.
"I did," Tara agreed, nodding. "And I think … I think she's watching me, and that she knows. She … she asked about you, y'know."
"About me?" Willow squeaked.
"MmmHmm," Tara said, murmuring her agreement. "She wondered if I was ever going to meet that redheaded girl, and if I was ever going to figure out that I was gay and in love with her," Tara said with a little laugh. "She wondered if you name was really 'Rose'."
"You called me 'Rose'?" Willow asked, wondering if she should be horrified by the name or impressed by how close it was.
"And we lived in a little thatch-roofed cottage surrounded by flowers and a white-picket fence. Mom had her own room, because she was a grown-up, so we had to share," Tara murmured, smiling gently at the childhood memory.
"And how old were you when you decided you were going to sleep with me?" Willow asked, arching an eyebrow and smirking.
"Oh, seven? Eight?" Tara said with a giggle. "We had slumber parties every night."
"Lesbian slumber parties?" Willow pressed.
"No, not lesbian slumber parties," Tara protested. "I was eight!"
"Still sounds kinda' racy for an eight-year-old," Willow replied, kissing Tara's neck again.
"Honest, all we did was eat junk food and watch movies," Tara said, letting her head loll back to give Willow more room. "Well," she said with a sly smile. "Until I was about fifteen or sixteen. >Then< they were lesbian slumber parties."
"I knew it!" Willow said triumphantly, then reaching over to nibble on Tara's ear. Tara murmured appreciatively, lifting her hand and running it through Willow's hair.
"Baby … not that I'm not enjoying this, but …"
"I know," Willow said, reluctantly releasing the tasty bit of Tara. "Research."
"Right," Tara said. "So we should, uhh … nip this in the bud."
"No, I'll nip you in the bud later," Willow said huskily. "I don't even know what that means," she went on in her normal tone of voice. "But it >sounded< naughty."
"Yes, yes it did," Tara agreed with a laugh as she sat forward, allowing Willow to stand.
"You want me to stay, or …" Willow said, gesturing towards the door.
"I'd … I'd actually like to finish looking at this stuff alone," Tara said, her eyes pleading for understanding, hoping Willow wouldn't be offended.
"Of course, Baby," Willow said easily, bending to place a light kiss on Tara's tempting lips. "I know you haven't had any time alone with your mom in a long while."
"Thank you," Tara said gratefully. "It … it really is like she's here," she mused aloud. "And I promise to introduce you two later, okay?"
"Absolutely," Willow agreed with a nod. "But, umm … could you give me a little warning? 'Cuz I think I should dress up. Don't want to meet your mom in jeans. I … kinda' wanna' make a good impression."
"She won't care what you're wearing, silly," Tara said, her eyes dancing. "She'll just care how much you love me."
"With everything I am or could hope to be," Willow said seriously. "I should … get back downstairs," she went on, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious by her bold declaration. "I'll, umm … I'll be downstairs, unless I go on a food run, or something," she went on, gesturing towards the door and backing away, part of her wishing she could just stay and sit and simply look at Tara.
"I'll be fine," Tara said with a smile. "I'll be down in another few hours, I think."
"Okay," Willow said. "I love you," she added right before she slipped out the door, smiling as she heard Tara's answering 'I love you, too' follow her down the hall.
Tara's mother had been … a remarkable woman, Willow realized. She knew that Tara had always had a lot of pain and anger mixed in with her love for her mother, and now she hoped that reading those journals had allowed her to come to a place where she could be at peace with her memory. She thought it would, and remembered the kinda' … serene look on Tara's face when she had spoken of her mother and the sacrifices she had made.
"Everything all right with Tara?" Giles asked, looking up as Willow entered the room.
"Yeah, she's fine," Willow said. "She found some of her mom's journals and was kind of reading them. She said she should have the books sorted and down here within a few hours or so."
"I'm gonna' make some cocoa," Buffy said suddenly, nodding emphatically and standing. "Do you two want any?" It was … just a little thing, but Buffy's mom had always made cocoa, and something about knowing that Tara was upstairs reading her mother's journal made Buffy ache for her own mom. She was sure that her cocoa wouldn't be as good - her mom had made the best cocoa - but she hoped that in the making of it, she would somehow feel closer to her.
"Cocoa would be lovely," Giles said, looking up with a smile.
"No, thank you," Willow said, looking at her computer and frowning as her mind raced.
Buffy went into the kitchen, wondering if that was why women grew up to be like their mothers - that they hoped they would feel closer to them by doing the same things in the same ways.
"I think … I think I'm going to take a little walk," Willow said slowly, standing up and stretching. "I'll be back in a bit."
"But - there's the Construct to consider," Giles said, frowning at Willow. "Wait for Buffy and take her with you."
"I … Giles, I … I kind of feel like being alone right now. I'll be really really careful, I promise. Like, someone who's always extra-careful times ten," Willow promised.
"I … I think this is an extremely poor idea," Giles protested. "Did something happen with Tara? Did you two have a fight, or -?"
"No, nothing like that," Willow said quickly. "Tara and I are … we're good," she said, a smile lighting up her face. "But I ... I kinda' ... I need to think about some things. Lots of things to think about."
"All right," Giles said with a sigh, trying to remember if he had ever been able to forbid the Scoobies to do anything. Even if he had, they were all adults now, and though he was concerned, he doubted the Construct would be able to find Willow. "But you will be extremely careful? Extra-careful times ten?"
"Times a hundred, even," Willow said with a nod. Giles nodded his ascent, and Willow grabbed a jacket, heading out the door and down the drive, pausing on the sidewalk and looking up and down the street. She turned right, then started walking, the day clear and bright with little fluffy clouds dotting the sky. She found the sneaky kitty cloud, seeing that it had turned into a snake.
"At least it's not a frog," she said aloud, shuffling her feet as she walked. She had a vague plan forming in her mind, and she had no idea if it was a good one or not. Tara's discovery of her mother's journals had struck a chord within her, and she had been thinking about it ever since. Tara had loved her mother with all her heart, but … she hadn't really known her, not really. She had been surprised by what she had found in those journals, and it made Willow wonder.
Her mother, Willow had always believed, didn't understand her at all. Was it maybe possible, that it was she, Willow, who didn't understand her mother?
Her head raced as her feet carried her at a more sedate pace along the sunny sidewalk, eventually leading her to the door of her parents' house. Willow looked up in surprise at the familiar dark wood, her hand lifting to trace the grains. With a glance over her shoulder, she confirmed that her mother's car was in the drive.
Was this even worth it? What did she hope to accomplish? Tying up lose ends, just in case?
Before she could answer those questions to her own satisfaction, she found herself opening the door and stepping inside. "Mom?"
"Willow," Sheila called out, stepping into the room. "Now, this is a surprise. What brings you here?"
"I just … though I'd stop by and visit. Since I was in the neighborhood and all," Willow said slowly.
"Well, come on in," Sheila said. "I was just fixing myself some lunch. Would you like anything?" she asked politely as Willow seated herself on the couch in the living room.
"No, thank you," Willow said, clasping her hands and resting her forearms on her knees, looking around the room and nodding her head, blowing out a puff of air as her mother puttered in the kitchen.
"Is anything wrong?" Willow's mom asked without preamble when she seated herself opposite Willow with a mug of coffee in her hand.
"Wrong?" Willow asked, looking up sharply with a look of startlement on her face. What could she possibly tell her mother? Hell God? Witchcraft? Dying? "No, nothing's wrong," Willow said slowly. "Everything's fine, in fact." Willow noticed a look of hurt flash across her mother's face, then disappear just as quickly.
"So there's nothing wrong?" Sheila pressed.
"No," Willow insisted. "Why would there be something wrong?" she asked, letting some of her confusion show.
"Well, you normally don't stop by. And I know you stayed here a few nights, because Alexander came by to pick up some of your things you had left," Sheila said. "So I assumed something was wrong. Did you have a fight with that friend you're living with? Bunny?"
"It's Buffy," Willow corrected automatically, rolling her eyes and wondering if it would finally sink in this time.
"Buffy. Right," Sheila said with a scowl. "I'm always getting that wrong," she observed, surprising Willow with the admission. "How is Buffy doing? I was very sorry to hear about her mother," Sheila went on, honest interest on her face.
"She's … it's tough," Willow said carefully. "But she's holding up pretty well, all things considered."
"And she's taking care of her sister? Isn't she in high school?" Sheila asked.
"Yes. Yes, she is," Willow nodded. "Buffy is Dawn's legal guardian."
"And you help out? Around the house and with Dawn?" Sheila guessed.
"As much as I can," Willow allowed. "Mostly I help with homework and stuff."
"You were always quite the student," Sheila said, a fond smile crossing her face.
"I didn't think you noticed," Willow muttered, looking at the carpet.
"I noticed," Sheila said, frowning at her daughter. "And you seem to have not noticed that my hearing is unusually sharp."
"Well, you never said anything," Willow said defensively, leaning back on the couch and crossing her arms.
"Is this what this visit is about?" Sheila asked after a moment. "Whether or not I noticed that you're incredibly bright, ambitious, and organized?"
"No, I …" Willow said, shaking her head. "I … I guess it is," she finally said, her brow furrowed as if she had just come to that realization. "I mean, you … you and Dad never said … anything. I figured none of it mattered to you."
"Didn't matter?" Sheila asked, her eyebrows flying into her hairline. "Willow, do you have any idea how proud we are of you? Don't you know that your father has been bragging about your SAT scores and your scholarships for years now?"
"How could I?" Willow demanded. "It's not like you said anything. And you never noticed … well, anything. I … how many times did I stay out all night in high school without a call home? How long did it take you to notice every time I got a haircut? How many mysterious bruises and cuts did I come home with? For all you knew, I was in a gang, doing drugs, and having sex all the time, and you didn't even notice!"
"I -" Sheila began, then stopped, flummoxed by Willow's outburst. "Now, Willow," she started again. "I realize that your father and I didn't -"
"Stop it!" Willow shouted, standing up. "Stop it with the condescension and the analysis and the touchy-feely psychobabble! Just tell me why you never >did< anything!"
"When I was a girl," Sheila said after a long moment, "times were very different. My mother … she -" Sheila stopped, taking a long breath. "She watched me like a hawk. I felt very … trapped. And untrusted. I felt like she was always waiting for me to fail, or to falter. I was a good child. I did everything I was supposed to. I studied hard, I got good grades. My friends were all good children, too. But every infraction of the rules, imagined or real, no matter how minor, resulted in very strict discipline. I promised myself I would never do that when I had a child."
"So you let me do whatever I wanted because your mother didn't let you do anything?" Willow asked, raising an eyebrow at her mother and staring at her with a look of disbelief.
"My mother picked out what I would wear to school each day. She took me to get my hair cut and told the stylist how to cut it. She chose my food. She chose my college. I wanted you to have the freedom to be your own person, and I wanted you to come to me if you ever needed guidance, but I didn't want to impose my guidance on you if it wasn't wanted or needed," Sheila said, trying to explain. "I … I think … I think I overdid it, didn't I?" she asked quietly.
"Just a little," Willow said, holding up her forefinger and her thumb very close together.
"I'm sorry, Willow. Neither your father or I ever meant to hurt you," Sheila said. "It certainly wasn't disinterest on our part. We just … we thought that if we trusted you, and if we gave you room to grow, you would do the right thing and grow into your own person. You've always been incredibly self-reliant. Even when you were very small. I remember you imperiously demanding that we teach you to read, because you wanted to do it yourself. You didn't want us reading to you," Sheila said, a strange mixture of pride and hurt on her face.
"I … I don't really remember that," Willow said slowly, understanding beginning to dawn on her.
"I do," Sheila said, a bittersweet smile on her face. "You thought we were teaching you too slowly, so you ended up teaching yourself. I'll never forget the day you came into the room with 'The Cat in The Hat' tucked under your chubby little arm, and you crawled onto your father's lap, and you read it to him."
"Did I really?" Willow asked weakly.
"You did. He just about popped the buttons of his shirt, he was so proud of you," Sheila remembered. "And then there was the time he taught you to use a calculator. I think you were … four? Five? You already had basic arithmetic down pat, but you were so impressed with the 'toy' that did it for you."
"Why do I sense there is more to this story?" Willow wondered aloud.
"Well, your father was using the apple system," Sheila explained.
"Like the computer?" Willow asked.
"No. The fruit," Sheila said. "He'd push the buttons for you and say, 'two apples plus two apples equals four apples.' And then you'd copy what he did, and he'd use another apple example. You must have played with the thing for hours, and your father went back to his work. Eventually, you went and found him and tugged on his pants leg, the little calculator in your hand, and you looked up at him and very seriously asked if it worked with oranges," Sheila said, laughing at the memory.
"I don't remember that, either," Willow said slowly.
"Between that and teaching yourself to read, your father and I realized just how gifted you were. We almost enrolled you in special schools, but you were so set on going to school with Alexander."
"Now that, I remember," Willow said, sitting back down and smiling softly. "I was so excited about getting to go to school, and that I already knew someone there."
"We had such a hard time trying to decide. You have an incredible mind, but we didn't want your social development to be stunted by those schools," Sheila said slowly. "I … I think, I hope, we did the right thing in letting you choose for yourself."
"I used to wonder what my life would be like if I'd gone to a special school," Willow said slowly. "I got teased a lot for being so smart. I used to wonder if I'd … I don't know … fit in better, someplace else."
"And now?" Sheila asked.
"Now I'm glad I went to good old Sunnydale High," Willow said with a smile. "I … my friends. Buffy, and Xander, and all the things we did in high school. I wouldn't trade that for anything."
"And staying in Sunnydale instead of going Ivy League?" Sheila pressed on.
"I'm … that's been the best thing in the whole world," Willow said, her face glowing as she thought of Tara. "I would have missed so much going anywhere else."
"I somehow doubt that," Sheila said with a smile. "You're an exceptionally gifted young woman, and I can't imagine you wouldn't have made the most of any opportunities presented to you, no matter where you went."
"They wouldn't have had Tara," Willow said before she could censor herself.
"Tara?" Sheila asked curiously.
"She's … everything," Willow said, not having any other way of explaining her bond with the other woman, her eyes lighting up and a broad grin crossing her face.
"You're in love," Sheila stated. "With a woman."
"Yes, I am," Willow said, raising her chin defiantly, as if daring her mother's disapproval.
Sheila blinked twice, her lips twitching. "Then I expect you to bring her by for dinner."
"That's it?" Willow blurted. "I'm gay, and you expect her by for dinner?"
"It's not what I would've chosen for you, but you've always known your own mind," Sheila said slowly. "And I'm not going to suddenly give up my policy of 'non-interference' now."
Willow blinked, absorbing her mother's response with a sense of surrealism. "Are you sure?" she finally asked.
"Isn't that what I'm supposed to ask?" Sheila responded. "It's a phase, or it's not. This is forever, or it's not. Either way, she makes you happy, doesn't she?" Willow nodded enthusiastically in response, finding she didn't have any words. "Then bring her by for dinner."
"I … okay. I'll ask her, and we'll see what we can arrange," Willow said, a shy smile crossing her face. "I … I really hope you like her."
"I think we probably will," Sheila said. "I can't imagine you dating anyone unpleasant."
"No. Definitely not unpleasant," Willow agreed, her thoughts turning to Tara once again. "And I should probably go. She's waiting for me."
"Don't be a stranger," Sheila said, rising to her feet when Willow stood and walking her to the door. "I know your father would love to see you."
"I'll stop by," Willow said, opening the door and stepping onto the porch. "And Mom? I love you."
"Even though I never noticed the six times you stayed out all night without calling, the three mysterious slings, two head wounds, four cuts requiring stitches, countless bruises and scrapes, and one hospital stay?" Sheila inquired innocently.
Willow stood there, stunned for a moment, before breaking into a smile. "It still took you five months to notice a major hair change," she said.
"You're right," Sheila went on. "I'm a terrible mother," she said, shaking her head in mock despair. "Willow," she went on, her expression serious. "I may not have always done the right thing, but I always did what I thought was right. I'm sorry if I was wrong."
"I love you," Willow said again, heading down the drive.
"I love you, too," Sheila called, waving at her daughter, and standing in the open doorway, watching until Willow walked out of sight.
[This message has been edited by Sassette (edited March 07, 2002).]
IP: LoggedBobo's MomCool Monster Fighter
Good night.
IP: Logged
ah, and the logo thingie at this point says "smittens (or redheaded smittens) of sassette do it on the floor" for now. In reference to lisa's t-shirts. other slogans available by request.
i think i reference things too much...
[This message has been edited by Owl (edited March 06, 2002).][/B][/QUOTE]
I'd so much rather do it on a bed..but...does the floor have carpeting?
IP: Logged
Chapter 37 is an amazingly sweet journey,
It made me go running to call my own mommy.
Sass, everything you write is just a pleasure to read.
But I have strapped on my harness and your warning I'll heed
Assuming crash positions is what I'll be doing
In anticipation of the next Chapter and the angst ensuing.
Edited cause I'm teary eyed and can't spell.
[This message has been edited by jomarch (edited March 07, 2002).]
IP: Logged
IP: Logged
**Bobo's Mom: I completely know what you mean. It would probably take me days to really explain how much 'me' there is in this fic. I certainly didn't intend it to turn out like that, but ... *shrug*
**W.I.: It's best not to ask about the carpeting. However, I personally feel (because it's late, I'm tired, and my brain goes to scary dirty places when it's late and I'm tired) the slogan should read "Smittens do it on the floor, on the bed, and various other horizontal surfaces, as well as a few vertical ones depending on their mood." I just have no idea how one would go about fitting all that on a crash helmet.
**jomarch: Thank you, jomarch - I appreciate the poems *G* Have fun at your mom's.
**W.I.: Something up on the way home? In broad daylight? Of course, the Construct doesn't need nighttime to go after Willow, as we've seen. Maybe I'll give them a break? *G*
-Sass
IP: Logged
quote:
Originally posted by Sassette:
Truckers calling their wives, Smittens calling their moms, Cats and Dogs - living together - Mass Hysteria. Can I just say you people are incredibly fast? I think this update has been up for, what? Fifteen, twenty minutes, tops?
**jomarch: Thank you, jomarch - I appreciate the poems *G* Have fun at your mom's.-Sass
The poems are a very, very small offering for a very, very good story. I guess the best thing to say is to paraphrase Tara - Anything you need, anytime you need it.
Us smittens will obey and serve and wear matching outfits.
IP: Logged
Good night.
IP: Logged
ah, and the logo thingie at this point says "smittens (or redheaded smittens) of sassette do it on the floor" for now. In reference to lisa's t-shirts. other slogans available by request.
i think i reference things too much...
[This message has been edited by Owl (edited March 06, 2002).][/B][/QUOTE]
I'd so much rather do it on a bed..but...does the floor have carpeting?
IP: Logged
Chapter 37 is an amazingly sweet journey,
It made me go running to call my own mommy.
Sass, everything you write is just a pleasure to read.
But I have strapped on my harness and your warning I'll heed
Assuming crash positions is what I'll be doing
In anticipation of the next Chapter and the angst ensuing.
Edited cause I'm teary eyed and can't spell.
[This message has been edited by jomarch (edited March 07, 2002).]
IP: Logged
IP: Logged
**Bobo's Mom: I completely know what you mean. It would probably take me days to really explain how much 'me' there is in this fic. I certainly didn't intend it to turn out like that, but ... *shrug*
**W.I.: It's best not to ask about the carpeting. However, I personally feel (because it's late, I'm tired, and my brain goes to scary dirty places when it's late and I'm tired) the slogan should read "Smittens do it on the floor, on the bed, and various other horizontal surfaces, as well as a few vertical ones depending on their mood." I just have no idea how one would go about fitting all that on a crash helmet.
**jomarch: Thank you, jomarch - I appreciate the poems *G* Have fun at your mom's.
**W.I.: Something up on the way home? In broad daylight? Of course, the Construct doesn't need nighttime to go after Willow, as we've seen. Maybe I'll give them a break? *G*
-Sass
IP: Logged
quote:
Originally posted by Sassette:
Truckers calling their wives, Smittens calling their moms, Cats and Dogs - living together - Mass Hysteria. Can I just say you people are incredibly fast? I think this update has been up for, what? Fifteen, twenty minutes, tops?
**jomarch: Thank you, jomarch - I appreciate the poems *G* Have fun at your mom's.-Sass
The poems are a very, very small offering for a very, very good story. I guess the best thing to say is to paraphrase Tara - Anything you need, anytime you need it.
Us smittens will obey and serve and wear matching outfits.
IP: Logged
ah, and the logo thingie at this point says "smittens (or redheaded smittens) of sassette do it on the floor" for now. In reference to lisa's t-shirts. other slogans available by request.
i think i reference things too much...
[This message has been edited by Owl (edited March 06, 2002).][/B][/QUOTE]
I'd so much rather do it on a bed..but...does the floor have carpeting?
IP: Logged
posted March 07, 2002 01:43ah, and the logo thingie at this point says "smittens (or redheaded smittens) of sassette do it on the floor" for now. In reference to lisa's t-shirts. other slogans available by request.
i think i reference things too much...
[This message has been edited by Owl (edited March 06, 2002).][/B][/QUOTE]
I'd so much rather do it on a bed..but...does the floor have carpeting?
Chapter 37 is an amazingly sweet journey,
It made me go running to call my own mommy.
Sass, everything you write is just a pleasure to read.
But I have strapped on my harness and your warning I'll heed
Assuming crash positions is what I'll be doing
In anticipation of the next Chapter and the angst ensuing.
Edited cause I'm teary eyed and can't spell.
[This message has been edited by jomarch (edited March 07, 2002).]
IP: Logged
posted March 07, 2002 01:46 Sassette, that was so good and because of it I am going to stop by my mom's today just to say hi. I also promised you a verse so here it is....Chapter 37 is an amazingly sweet journey,
It made me go running to call my own mommy.
Sass, everything you write is just a pleasure to read.
But I have strapped on my harness and your warning I'll heed
Assuming crash positions is what I'll be doing
In anticipation of the next Chapter and the angst ensuing.
Edited cause I'm teary eyed and can't spell.
[This message has been edited by jomarch (edited March 07, 2002).]
IP: LoggedWiccansIllusionCool Monster Fighter IP: Logged
posted March 07, 2002 01:57 Ooo...I love posting and finding an update on return. Very nice Sass..but..knowing the cliffhangers, somethings up on the way home..isn't it? *peers*IP: LoggedSassetteCool Monster Fighter **Bobo's Mom: I completely know what you mean. It would probably take me days to really explain how much 'me' there is in this fic. I certainly didn't intend it to turn out like that, but ... *shrug*
**W.I.: It's best not to ask about the carpeting. However, I personally feel (because it's late, I'm tired, and my brain goes to scary dirty places when it's late and I'm tired) the slogan should read "Smittens do it on the floor, on the bed, and various other horizontal surfaces, as well as a few vertical ones depending on their mood." I just have no idea how one would go about fitting all that on a crash helmet.
**jomarch: Thank you, jomarch - I appreciate the poems *G* Have fun at your mom's.
**W.I.: Something up on the way home? In broad daylight? Of course, the Construct doesn't need nighttime to go after Willow, as we've seen. Maybe I'll give them a break? *G*
-Sass
IP: Logged
posted March 07, 2002 02:00 Truckers calling their wives, Smittens calling their moms, Cats and Dogs - living together - Mass Hysteria. Can I just say you people are incredibly fast? I think this update has been up for, what? Fifteen, twenty minutes, tops?**Bobo's Mom: I completely know what you mean. It would probably take me days to really explain how much 'me' there is in this fic. I certainly didn't intend it to turn out like that, but ... *shrug*
**W.I.: It's best not to ask about the carpeting. However, I personally feel (because it's late, I'm tired, and my brain goes to scary dirty places when it's late and I'm tired) the slogan should read "Smittens do it on the floor, on the bed, and various other horizontal surfaces, as well as a few vertical ones depending on their mood." I just have no idea how one would go about fitting all that on a crash helmet.
**jomarch: Thank you, jomarch - I appreciate the poems *G* Have fun at your mom's.
**W.I.: Something up on the way home? In broad daylight? Of course, the Construct doesn't need nighttime to go after Willow, as we've seen. Maybe I'll give them a break? *G*
-Sass
IP: LoggedjomarchCool Monster Fighter quote:
Originally posted by Sassette:
Truckers calling their wives, Smittens calling their moms, Cats and Dogs - living together - Mass Hysteria. Can I just say you people are incredibly fast? I think this update has been up for, what? Fifteen, twenty minutes, tops?
**jomarch: Thank you, jomarch - I appreciate the poems *G* Have fun at your mom's.-Sass
The poems are a very, very small offering for a very, very good story. I guess the best thing to say is to paraphrase Tara - Anything you need, anytime you need it.
Us smittens will obey and serve and wear matching outfits.
IP: Logged
posted March 07, 2002 02:21quote:
Originally posted by Sassette:
Truckers calling their wives, Smittens calling their moms, Cats and Dogs - living together - Mass Hysteria. Can I just say you people are incredibly fast? I think this update has been up for, what? Fifteen, twenty minutes, tops?
**jomarch: Thank you, jomarch - I appreciate the poems *G* Have fun at your mom's.-Sass
The poems are a very, very small offering for a very, very good story. I guess the best thing to say is to paraphrase Tara - Anything you need, anytime you need it.
Us smittens will obey and serve and wear matching outfits.
quote:by jomarch » Wed Mar 06, 2002 7:48 pm
quote:
Originally posted by Owl:
a helmet with logo for jomarch.....
is that the special edition redhead logo, or your basic otherheaded smitten helmet?
and... let 'em stare! you look fabulous!
you might want to ask tiny jewish santa*, though. In the meantime, i'll try to get some in stock...
(*please tell me you recognize the reference here. otherwise, i just sound odd)Okay. eagerly awaiting update....
Well, unfortunately i'm not a red-head [feeling left out ] though my mom is. I take after my dad so I have dark brown hair. Can I just have a basic sparkly helmet with smitten logo that can hold beer in the carabeener mug. And yes, people outside are staring as I have been laughing quite loudly picturing all of us at our monitors all decked out waiting for the update.
Waves to Pixie- hope you liked the new ode verse.
Waves frantically to Sassette- Update please, all your smittens are accessorised and ready.
quote:by Owl » Wed Mar 06, 2002 7:57 pm
see wiccansillusion's post above for the carabeener mug reference.
ah, and the logo thingie at this point says "smittens (or redheaded smittens) of sassette do it on the floor" for now. In reference to lisa's t-shirts. other slogans available by request.
i think i reference things too much...
[This message has been edited by Owl (edited March 06, 2002).]
by Pixie » Wed Mar 06, 2002 8:18 pm
quote:
Originally posted by jomarch:
Waves to Pixie- hope you liked the new ode verse.
*waves back* You so rock jomarch!! I hope I didn't wake my neighbors last night with my giggling.
quote:by Sassette » Wed Mar 06, 2002 11:08 pm
Title: Answering Darkness Part 37 - Mothers and Daughters
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to pink_overalls@yahoo.com
Summary: Not much actually happens. Some bonding occurs.
Spoiler Warning: Up to and including "Tabula Rasa" in Season 6.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm just borrowing them because Season 6 angst is running high, and I want my happy ending now, dammit! So I'm writing it … but it'll be awhile until I get to that part, so bear with me (or "bare" with me if you're naughty).
Rating: PG-13
Notes: For the purpose of this story, all events of Tabula Rasa took place exactly as shown in the series; however, no subsequent episodes will affect this piece.
Answering Darkness Part 37
Mothers and Daughters
By Sassette
"Maybe I should go help her," Willow said, frowning up at the stairs.
"She said she didn't need any help," Giles said patiently, not looking up from the book in his hands.
"Well, yeah," Willow hedged, "but she's been up there for a long time, and with the helpfulness, she could be back down here, where all the research action is. We don't want Tara to feel all left out or anything right?"
"Willow," Buffy said, a little smile crossing her face at Willow's agitation. Nobody, Buffy knew, could get worked up over nothing quite like Willow could. "She's looking through her mother's things. Give her another ten minutes or so before you go barging in, okay?"
"But ..." Willow started to protest, only to trail off. "Stupid, Rosenberg," she muttered, looking back at the little bar marking the progress of her file download. She had insisted that Tara needed to look at her mother's things alone. Willow shifted uncomfortably in her chair, tapping a pencil on the table. It had seemed to Willow like a very private thing, for a mother and daughter to share, and so she had opted to stay downstairs. Now, with Tara having been upstairs for three hours, she wanted to stand up and kick herself in the head for being an idiot.
"Go upstairs," Giles said, his voice full of exasperation as he rolled his eyes at Willow's fidgeting.
"Right," Willow said eagerly, immediately standing up and bolting up the stairs. Once she reached the door she hesitated. She didn't want to intrude, and she knew that Tara's mother had meant the world to Tara. Still, she was getting kind of worried. Her respect for Tara's privacy and her unease at Tara's absence warred within her. She knew that whatever Tara found, she would eventually share with her, no matter own private it was, but ... it just seemed right to let Tara look everything over first by herself. Then again, what if Tara needed her? What if Tara was feeling lost and alone and needed Willow Hugs?
"Come in," she heard Tara's voice call. Because it was muffled by the door, Willow found she couldn't get a read on what Tara was feeling from the tone. She turned the knob, easing the door open and poking her head in, worried eyes finding Tara, sitting in front of a trunk with her back to the doorway, her legs crossed under her in her usual manner.
"I ... umm," Willow said, unsure of how to explain her presence.
"Was worried? And kicking yourself for telling me to do this alone?" Tara asked mildly, turning her head to look at Willow, a sad sweet smile on her face.
"Are you okay, Baby?" Willow asked, entering the room and closing the door softly behind her. "You've been up here for awhile, and I thought that maybe you'd ..."
"Need a hug?" Tara finished the sentence for her, her eyes falling to her lap and her shoulders dropping. "Because I do," she said quietly.
"Awww, honey," Willow said, crossing the room with a few long strides and dropping to the floor behind Tara, and tucking one leg under her, the other resting next to Tara, bent at the knee, her foot resting flat on the floor.
Slowly, Willow pulled Tara back against her chest, her arms wrapping around her middle. Tara let her head fall back on Willow's shoulder with a sigh, one arm resting on Willow's bent knee, and the other stroking the smooth skin of the forearms hugging her close.
"Wanna talk about it?" Willow murmured into her hair, turning her head a fraction to place a light kiss on her temple.
"She kept a journal," Tara said, her voice tired. "I never knew," she went on, shaking her head a little in wonder. "She wrote in it every single day, and I never knew. She - she starts each entry 'Dear Tara', like she knew I'd see it someday. Like it's full of things she wanted me to know, but didn't think she'd never tell me."
"You never snuck into your mom's stuff?" Willow asked curiously.
"No, never," Tara said. "Except that once ... I got into her trunk, and there was a little compartment in it. I managed to get it open, but it was really tricky. That's when I found grandmother's doll's eye crystal. At least, I think it was grandmother's," she said, a wistful look on her face. "But Mom was ... she was so ... sad ..." she went on, her eyes filling with confusion, "when I found it, I never looked through her things again. I tried to give it back, but she told me to keep it. And I did, until I gave it to you."
"I ... I found it, in the dresser yesterday," Willow said slowly. "I...I thought we lost it?"
"Dawn must have found it," Tara said. "I found it in her room last week. I ... I want you to have it."
"Still?" Willow asked, hugging Tara tighter.
"If ... if it's too much for you - I mean, if it will make you want to cast ..." she said hesitantly.
"No," Willow said, a thoughtful look on her face. "It - it doesn't. I must have sat with it for an hour, and I just ... I felt really clear."
"It does that," Tara said with a slow smile. "It's a nice crystal."
"Very nice," Willow said with a smile, nuzzling Tara's neck, making Tara wonder if they were still talking about the same thing. "What did you find in your mom's journal?" she asked after placing several delicate kisses up Tara's neck to her ear.
"She was ... very sad," Tara said slowly. "I remember being really little, and catching my mother looking at me, and her eyes were so loving and sad, I ... I just walked up to her and crawled into her lap and hugged her."
"Why do you think she was so sad?" Willow asked after a moment, feeling like this was something Tara had to share.
"I found the entry she wrote when she found out she was having a girl," Tara said, her hand drifting down to hover over the cover of the journal in her lap. "She ... she cried. She wrote that she was so happy to be pregnant, and that from the moment she knew she was pregnant, she loved me. But she cried because it broke her heart to know that my family would have to hurt me to keep me safe." Tara paused, taking a deep breath. "She really believed in the demon. I ... I always, somewhere inside, wondered why she never just took me away from Dad and Donnie. Why we didn't just go somewhere we could be happy."
"That … that must have been so hard for her," Willow mused aloud, her gaze distant as she tried to put herself in Tara's mother's place. What would she do if she were sure she was a demon? What would she do if she were sure she'd hurt people if she left?
"It … I sometimes thought that … a mother is supposed to love you more than anything," Tara said on a whisper, her voice so faint Willow could barely make it out. "And … I'd get so mad at her," she confessed, her voice lost. "I was so angry that … that she put the world first. That she chose keeping other people safe over keeping me safe. Stupid, huh?"
"No … not stupid," Willow disagreed, shifting her wait to put her other leg alongside Tara and pulling her as close as she could given their respective positions. "I … It makes perfect sense, baby, and you didn't do anything wrong. You were really young, weren't you? You stopped being mad when you got older and understood, didn't you?"
Tara nodded her confirmation of Willow's words. "But I … I got so mad at her again when she died. It was like - she got out and she left me there with them. I wanted to go, too. I wanted to follow her wherever it was she went, and I - I remember running out into the woods and just … screaming into the sky because she left me behind."
"Oh, Honey …" Willow said, murmuring comforting nonsense words into her hair and rocking her gently.
"She … she wrote in here, why she didn't leave," Tara said quietly, a look of aching peace on her face. "I … I finally understand. I thought I did when I got older - that she couldn't leave because she was afraid she'd hurt someone. But I was wrong. She didn't choose the world over me. She was afraid that if she took me away >she< would hurt me. She w-wrote that she … she wanted me to know what it was like to have a parent who loved me and would never hurt me. Someone I could trust."
"Baby, I'm so sorry," Willow murmured, wondering what else she could say.
"Why? My mother loved me, more than anything in the whole world," Tara said simply, a small smile crossing her face. "She … God, I'm so tired of crying," Tara said with a mirthless laugh, wiping at the tears spilling over onto her face before putting her hands back on Willow's arms and relaxing into the comfort of the warm body behind her. "The last entry in there is … it's just before she died. She was really sick, and she knew it, but - she decided not to fight it. To just let it take her, because she prayed to the Goddess that without her, I wouldn't have a reason to stay. That I'd get out and make a life for myself."
"And you did," Willow said, her heart swelling with pride at Tara's strength. She had come by it honestly, though, if her mother's words were any indication. Willow marveled at the selflessness of Tara's mother, but then realized it wasn't all that surprising. Tara was her mother's daughter.
"I did," Tara agreed, nodding. "And I think … I think she's watching me, and that she knows. She … she asked about you, y'know."
"About me?" Willow squeaked.
"MmmHmm," Tara said, murmuring her agreement. "She wondered if I was ever going to meet that redheaded girl, and if I was ever going to figure out that I was gay and in love with her," Tara said with a little laugh. "She wondered if you name was really 'Rose'."
"You called me 'Rose'?" Willow asked, wondering if she should be horrified by the name or impressed by how close it was.
"And we lived in a little thatch-roofed cottage surrounded by flowers and a white-picket fence. Mom had her own room, because she was a grown-up, so we had to share," Tara murmured, smiling gently at the childhood memory.
"And how old were you when you decided you were going to sleep with me?" Willow asked, arching an eyebrow and smirking.
"Oh, seven? Eight?" Tara said with a giggle. "We had slumber parties every night."
"Lesbian slumber parties?" Willow pressed.
"No, not lesbian slumber parties," Tara protested. "I was eight!"
"Still sounds kinda' racy for an eight-year-old," Willow replied, kissing Tara's neck again.
"Honest, all we did was eat junk food and watch movies," Tara said, letting her head loll back to give Willow more room. "Well," she said with a sly smile. "Until I was about fifteen or sixteen. >Then< they were lesbian slumber parties."
"I knew it!" Willow said triumphantly, then reaching over to nibble on Tara's ear. Tara murmured appreciatively, lifting her hand and running it through Willow's hair.
"Baby … not that I'm not enjoying this, but …"
"I know," Willow said, reluctantly releasing the tasty bit of Tara. "Research."
"Right," Tara said. "So we should, uhh … nip this in the bud."
"No, I'll nip you in the bud later," Willow said huskily. "I don't even know what that means," she went on in her normal tone of voice. "But it >sounded< naughty."
"Yes, yes it did," Tara agreed with a laugh as she sat forward, allowing Willow to stand.
"You want me to stay, or …" Willow said, gesturing towards the door.
"I'd … I'd actually like to finish looking at this stuff alone," Tara said, her eyes pleading for understanding, hoping Willow wouldn't be offended.
"Of course, Baby," Willow said easily, bending to place a light kiss on Tara's tempting lips. "I know you haven't had any time alone with your mom in a long while."
"Thank you," Tara said gratefully. "It … it really is like she's here," she mused aloud. "And I promise to introduce you two later, okay?"
"Absolutely," Willow agreed with a nod. "But, umm … could you give me a little warning? 'Cuz I think I should dress up. Don't want to meet your mom in jeans. I … kinda' wanna' make a good impression."
"She won't care what you're wearing, silly," Tara said, her eyes dancing. "She'll just care how much you love me."
"With everything I am or could hope to be," Willow said seriously. "I should … get back downstairs," she went on, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious by her bold declaration. "I'll, umm … I'll be downstairs, unless I go on a food run, or something," she went on, gesturing towards the door and backing away, part of her wishing she could just stay and sit and simply look at Tara.
"I'll be fine," Tara said with a smile. "I'll be down in another few hours, I think."
"Okay," Willow said. "I love you," she added right before she slipped out the door, smiling as she heard Tara's answering 'I love you, too' follow her down the hall.
Tara's mother had been … a remarkable woman, Willow realized. She knew that Tara had always had a lot of pain and anger mixed in with her love for her mother, and now she hoped that reading those journals had allowed her to come to a place where she could be at peace with her memory. She thought it would, and remembered the kinda' … serene look on Tara's face when she had spoken of her mother and the sacrifices she had made.
"Everything all right with Tara?" Giles asked, looking up as Willow entered the room.
"Yeah, she's fine," Willow said. "She found some of her mom's journals and was kind of reading them. She said she should have the books sorted and down here within a few hours or so."
"I'm gonna' make some cocoa," Buffy said suddenly, nodding emphatically and standing. "Do you two want any?" It was … just a little thing, but Buffy's mom had always made cocoa, and something about knowing that Tara was upstairs reading her mother's journal made Buffy ache for her own mom. She was sure that her cocoa wouldn't be as good - her mom had made the best cocoa - but she hoped that in the making of it, she would somehow feel closer to her.
"Cocoa would be lovely," Giles said, looking up with a smile.
"No, thank you," Willow said, looking at her computer and frowning as her mind raced.
Buffy went into the kitchen, wondering if that was why women grew up to be like their mothers - that they hoped they would feel closer to them by doing the same things in the same ways.
"I think … I think I'm going to take a little walk," Willow said slowly, standing up and stretching. "I'll be back in a bit."
"But - there's the Construct to consider," Giles said, frowning at Willow. "Wait for Buffy and take her with you."
"I … Giles, I … I kind of feel like being alone right now. I'll be really really careful, I promise. Like, someone who's always extra-careful times ten," Willow promised.
"I … I think this is an extremely poor idea," Giles protested. "Did something happen with Tara? Did you two have a fight, or -?"
"No, nothing like that," Willow said quickly. "Tara and I are … we're good," she said, a smile lighting up her face. "But I ... I kinda' ... I need to think about some things. Lots of things to think about."
"All right," Giles said with a sigh, trying to remember if he had ever been able to forbid the Scoobies to do anything. Even if he had, they were all adults now, and though he was concerned, he doubted the Construct would be able to find Willow. "But you will be extremely careful? Extra-careful times ten?"
"Times a hundred, even," Willow said with a nod. Giles nodded his ascent, and Willow grabbed a jacket, heading out the door and down the drive, pausing on the sidewalk and looking up and down the street. She turned right, then started walking, the day clear and bright with little fluffy clouds dotting the sky. She found the sneaky kitty cloud, seeing that it had turned into a snake.
"At least it's not a frog," she said aloud, shuffling her feet as she walked. She had a vague plan forming in her mind, and she had no idea if it was a good one or not. Tara's discovery of her mother's journals had struck a chord within her, and she had been thinking about it ever since. Tara had loved her mother with all her heart, but … she hadn't really known her, not really. She had been surprised by what she had found in those journals, and it made Willow wonder.
Her mother, Willow had always believed, didn't understand her at all. Was it maybe possible, that it was she, Willow, who didn't understand her mother?
Her head raced as her feet carried her at a more sedate pace along the sunny sidewalk, eventually leading her to the door of her parents' house. Willow looked up in surprise at the familiar dark wood, her hand lifting to trace the grains. With a glance over her shoulder, she confirmed that her mother's car was in the drive.
Was this even worth it? What did she hope to accomplish? Tying up lose ends, just in case?
Before she could answer those questions to her own satisfaction, she found herself opening the door and stepping inside. "Mom?"
"Willow," Sheila called out, stepping into the room. "Now, this is a surprise. What brings you here?"
"I just … though I'd stop by and visit. Since I was in the neighborhood and all," Willow said slowly.
"Well, come on in," Sheila said. "I was just fixing myself some lunch. Would you like anything?" she asked politely as Willow seated herself on the couch in the living room.
"No, thank you," Willow said, clasping her hands and resting her forearms on her knees, looking around the room and nodding her head, blowing out a puff of air as her mother puttered in the kitchen.
"Is anything wrong?" Willow's mom asked without preamble when she seated herself opposite Willow with a mug of coffee in her hand.
"Wrong?" Willow asked, looking up sharply with a look of startlement on her face. What could she possibly tell her mother? Hell God? Witchcraft? Dying? "No, nothing's wrong," Willow said slowly. "Everything's fine, in fact." Willow noticed a look of hurt flash across her mother's face, then disappear just as quickly.
"So there's nothing wrong?" Sheila pressed.
"No," Willow insisted. "Why would there be something wrong?" she asked, letting some of her confusion show.
"Well, you normally don't stop by. And I know you stayed here a few nights, because Alexander came by to pick up some of your things you had left," Sheila said. "So I assumed something was wrong. Did you have a fight with that friend you're living with? Bunny?"
"It's Buffy," Willow corrected automatically, rolling her eyes and wondering if it would finally sink in this time.
"Buffy. Right," Sheila said with a scowl. "I'm always getting that wrong," she observed, surprising Willow with the admission. "How is Buffy doing? I was very sorry to hear about her mother," Sheila went on, honest interest on her face.
"She's … it's tough," Willow said carefully. "But she's holding up pretty well, all things considered."
"And she's taking care of her sister? Isn't she in high school?" Sheila asked.
"Yes. Yes, she is," Willow nodded. "Buffy is Dawn's legal guardian."
"And you help out? Around the house and with Dawn?" Sheila guessed.
"As much as I can," Willow allowed. "Mostly I help with homework and stuff."
"You were always quite the student," Sheila said, a fond smile crossing her face.
"I didn't think you noticed," Willow muttered, looking at the carpet.
"I noticed," Sheila said, frowning at her daughter. "And you seem to have not noticed that my hearing is unusually sharp."
"Well, you never said anything," Willow said defensively, leaning back on the couch and crossing her arms.
"Is this what this visit is about?" Sheila asked after a moment. "Whether or not I noticed that you're incredibly bright, ambitious, and organized?"
"No, I …" Willow said, shaking her head. "I … I guess it is," she finally said, her brow furrowed as if she had just come to that realization. "I mean, you … you and Dad never said … anything. I figured none of it mattered to you."
"Didn't matter?" Sheila asked, her eyebrows flying into her hairline. "Willow, do you have any idea how proud we are of you? Don't you know that your father has been bragging about your SAT scores and your scholarships for years now?"
"How could I?" Willow demanded. "It's not like you said anything. And you never noticed … well, anything. I … how many times did I stay out all night in high school without a call home? How long did it take you to notice every time I got a haircut? How many mysterious bruises and cuts did I come home with? For all you knew, I was in a gang, doing drugs, and having sex all the time, and you didn't even notice!"
"I -" Sheila began, then stopped, flummoxed by Willow's outburst. "Now, Willow," she started again. "I realize that your father and I didn't -"
"Stop it!" Willow shouted, standing up. "Stop it with the condescension and the analysis and the touchy-feely psychobabble! Just tell me why you never >did< anything!"
"When I was a girl," Sheila said after a long moment, "times were very different. My mother … she -" Sheila stopped, taking a long breath. "She watched me like a hawk. I felt very … trapped. And untrusted. I felt like she was always waiting for me to fail, or to falter. I was a good child. I did everything I was supposed to. I studied hard, I got good grades. My friends were all good children, too. But every infraction of the rules, imagined or real, no matter how minor, resulted in very strict discipline. I promised myself I would never do that when I had a child."
"So you let me do whatever I wanted because your mother didn't let you do anything?" Willow asked, raising an eyebrow at her mother and staring at her with a look of disbelief.
"My mother picked out what I would wear to school each day. She took me to get my hair cut and told the stylist how to cut it. She chose my food. She chose my college. I wanted you to have the freedom to be your own person, and I wanted you to come to me if you ever needed guidance, but I didn't want to impose my guidance on you if it wasn't wanted or needed," Sheila said, trying to explain. "I … I think … I think I overdid it, didn't I?" she asked quietly.
"Just a little," Willow said, holding up her forefinger and her thumb very close together.
"I'm sorry, Willow. Neither your father or I ever meant to hurt you," Sheila said. "It certainly wasn't disinterest on our part. We just … we thought that if we trusted you, and if we gave you room to grow, you would do the right thing and grow into your own person. You've always been incredibly self-reliant. Even when you were very small. I remember you imperiously demanding that we teach you to read, because you wanted to do it yourself. You didn't want us reading to you," Sheila said, a strange mixture of pride and hurt on her face.
"I … I don't really remember that," Willow said slowly, understanding beginning to dawn on her.
"I do," Sheila said, a bittersweet smile on her face. "You thought we were teaching you too slowly, so you ended up teaching yourself. I'll never forget the day you came into the room with 'The Cat in The Hat' tucked under your chubby little arm, and you crawled onto your father's lap, and you read it to him."
"Did I really?" Willow asked weakly.
"You did. He just about popped the buttons of his shirt, he was so proud of you," Sheila remembered. "And then there was the time he taught you to use a calculator. I think you were … four? Five? You already had basic arithmetic down pat, but you were so impressed with the 'toy' that did it for you."
"Why do I sense there is more to this story?" Willow wondered aloud.
"Well, your father was using the apple system," Sheila explained.
"Like the computer?" Willow asked.
"No. The fruit," Sheila said. "He'd push the buttons for you and say, 'two apples plus two apples equals four apples.' And then you'd copy what he did, and he'd use another apple example. You must have played with the thing for hours, and your father went back to his work. Eventually, you went and found him and tugged on his pants leg, the little calculator in your hand, and you looked up at him and very seriously asked if it worked with oranges," Sheila said, laughing at the memory.
"I don't remember that, either," Willow said slowly.
"Between that and teaching yourself to read, your father and I realized just how gifted you were. We almost enrolled you in special schools, but you were so set on going to school with Alexander."
"Now that, I remember," Willow said, sitting back down and smiling softly. "I was so excited about getting to go to school, and that I already knew someone there."
"We had such a hard time trying to decide. You have an incredible mind, but we didn't want your social development to be stunted by those schools," Sheila said slowly. "I … I think, I hope, we did the right thing in letting you choose for yourself."
"I used to wonder what my life would be like if I'd gone to a special school," Willow said slowly. "I got teased a lot for being so smart. I used to wonder if I'd … I don't know … fit in better, someplace else."
"And now?" Sheila asked.
"Now I'm glad I went to good old Sunnydale High," Willow said with a smile. "I … my friends. Buffy, and Xander, and all the things we did in high school. I wouldn't trade that for anything."
"And staying in Sunnydale instead of going Ivy League?" Sheila pressed on.
"I'm … that's been the best thing in the whole world," Willow said, her face glowing as she thought of Tara. "I would have missed so much going anywhere else."
"I somehow doubt that," Sheila said with a smile. "You're an exceptionally gifted young woman, and I can't imagine you wouldn't have made the most of any opportunities presented to you, no matter where you went."
"They wouldn't have had Tara," Willow said before she could censor herself.
"Tara?" Sheila asked curiously.
"She's … everything," Willow said, not having any other way of explaining her bond with the other woman, her eyes lighting up and a broad grin crossing her face.
"You're in love," Sheila stated. "With a woman."
"Yes, I am," Willow said, raising her chin defiantly, as if daring her mother's disapproval.
Sheila blinked twice, her lips twitching. "Then I expect you to bring her by for dinner."
"That's it?" Willow blurted. "I'm gay, and you expect her by for dinner?"
"It's not what I would've chosen for you, but you've always known your own mind," Sheila said slowly. "And I'm not going to suddenly give up my policy of 'non-interference' now."
Willow blinked, absorbing her mother's response with a sense of surrealism. "Are you sure?" she finally asked.
"Isn't that what I'm supposed to ask?" Sheila responded. "It's a phase, or it's not. This is forever, or it's not. Either way, she makes you happy, doesn't she?" Willow nodded enthusiastically in response, finding she didn't have any words. "Then bring her by for dinner."
"I … okay. I'll ask her, and we'll see what we can arrange," Willow said, a shy smile crossing her face. "I … I really hope you like her."
"I think we probably will," Sheila said. "I can't imagine you dating anyone unpleasant."
"No. Definitely not unpleasant," Willow agreed, her thoughts turning to Tara once again. "And I should probably go. She's waiting for me."
"Don't be a stranger," Sheila said, rising to her feet when Willow stood and walking her to the door. "I know your father would love to see you."
"I'll stop by," Willow said, opening the door and stepping onto the porch. "And Mom? I love you."
"Even though I never noticed the six times you stayed out all night without calling, the three mysterious slings, two head wounds, four cuts requiring stitches, countless bruises and scrapes, and one hospital stay?" Sheila inquired innocently.
Willow stood there, stunned for a moment, before breaking into a smile. "It still took you five months to notice a major hair change," she said.
"You're right," Sheila went on. "I'm a terrible mother," she said, shaking her head in mock despair. "Willow," she went on, her expression serious. "I may not have always done the right thing, but I always did what I thought was right. I'm sorry if I was wrong."
"I love you," Willow said again, heading down the drive.
"I love you, too," Sheila called, waving at her daughter, and standing in the open doorway, watching until Willow walked out of sight.
[This message has been edited by Sassette (edited March 07, 2002).]
by Bobo's Mom » Wed Mar 06, 2002 11:30 pm
Good night.
IP: Logged
ah, and the logo thingie at this point says "smittens (or redheaded smittens) of sassette do it on the floor" for now. In reference to lisa's t-shirts. other slogans available by request.
i think i reference things too much...
[This message has been edited by Owl (edited March 06, 2002).][/B][/QUOTE]
I'd so much rather do it on a bed..but...does the floor have carpeting?
IP: Logged
Chapter 37 is an amazingly sweet journey,
It made me go running to call my own mommy.
Sass, everything you write is just a pleasure to read.
But I have strapped on my harness and your warning I'll heed
Assuming crash positions is what I'll be doing
In anticipation of the next Chapter and the angst ensuing.
Edited cause I'm teary eyed and can't spell.
[This message has been edited by jomarch (edited March 07, 2002).]
IP: Logged
IP: Logged
**Bobo's Mom: I completely know what you mean. It would probably take me days to really explain how much 'me' there is in this fic. I certainly didn't intend it to turn out like that, but ... *shrug*
**W.I.: It's best not to ask about the carpeting. However, I personally feel (because it's late, I'm tired, and my brain goes to scary dirty places when it's late and I'm tired) the slogan should read "Smittens do it on the floor, on the bed, and various other horizontal surfaces, as well as a few vertical ones depending on their mood." I just have no idea how one would go about fitting all that on a crash helmet.
**jomarch: Thank you, jomarch - I appreciate the poems *G* Have fun at your mom's.
**W.I.: Something up on the way home? In broad daylight? Of course, the Construct doesn't need nighttime to go after Willow, as we've seen. Maybe I'll give them a break? *G*
-Sass
IP: Logged
quote:
Originally posted by Sassette:
Truckers calling their wives, Smittens calling their moms, Cats and Dogs - living together - Mass Hysteria. Can I just say you people are incredibly fast? I think this update has been up for, what? Fifteen, twenty minutes, tops?
**jomarch: Thank you, jomarch - I appreciate the poems *G* Have fun at your mom's.-Sass
The poems are a very, very small offering for a very, very good story. I guess the best thing to say is to paraphrase Tara - Anything you need, anytime you need it.
Us smittens will obey and serve and wear matching outfits.
IP: Logged
ah, and the logo thingie at this point says "smittens (or redheaded smittens) of sassette do it on the floor" for now. In reference to lisa's t-shirts. other slogans available by request.
i think i reference things too much...
[This message has been edited by Owl (edited March 06, 2002).][/B][/QUOTE]
I'd so much rather do it on a bed..but...does the floor have carpeting?
IP: Logged
posted March 07, 2002 01:43ah, and the logo thingie at this point says "smittens (or redheaded smittens) of sassette do it on the floor" for now. In reference to lisa's t-shirts. other slogans available by request.
i think i reference things too much...
[This message has been edited by Owl (edited March 06, 2002).][/B][/QUOTE]
I'd so much rather do it on a bed..but...does the floor have carpeting?
Chapter 37 is an amazingly sweet journey,
It made me go running to call my own mommy.
Sass, everything you write is just a pleasure to read.
But I have strapped on my harness and your warning I'll heed
Assuming crash positions is what I'll be doing
In anticipation of the next Chapter and the angst ensuing.
Edited cause I'm teary eyed and can't spell.
[This message has been edited by jomarch (edited March 07, 2002).]
IP: Logged
posted March 07, 2002 01:46 Sassette, that was so good and because of it I am going to stop by my mom's today just to say hi. I also promised you a verse so here it is....Chapter 37 is an amazingly sweet journey,
It made me go running to call my own mommy.
Sass, everything you write is just a pleasure to read.
But I have strapped on my harness and your warning I'll heed
Assuming crash positions is what I'll be doing
In anticipation of the next Chapter and the angst ensuing.
Edited cause I'm teary eyed and can't spell.
[This message has been edited by jomarch (edited March 07, 2002).]
IP: LoggedWiccansIllusionCool Monster Fighter IP: Logged
posted March 07, 2002 01:57 Ooo...I love posting and finding an update on return. Very nice Sass..but..knowing the cliffhangers, somethings up on the way home..isn't it? *peers*IP: LoggedSassetteCool Monster Fighter **Bobo's Mom: I completely know what you mean. It would probably take me days to really explain how much 'me' there is in this fic. I certainly didn't intend it to turn out like that, but ... *shrug*
**W.I.: It's best not to ask about the carpeting. However, I personally feel (because it's late, I'm tired, and my brain goes to scary dirty places when it's late and I'm tired) the slogan should read "Smittens do it on the floor, on the bed, and various other horizontal surfaces, as well as a few vertical ones depending on their mood." I just have no idea how one would go about fitting all that on a crash helmet.
**jomarch: Thank you, jomarch - I appreciate the poems *G* Have fun at your mom's.
**W.I.: Something up on the way home? In broad daylight? Of course, the Construct doesn't need nighttime to go after Willow, as we've seen. Maybe I'll give them a break? *G*
-Sass
IP: Logged
posted March 07, 2002 02:00 Truckers calling their wives, Smittens calling their moms, Cats and Dogs - living together - Mass Hysteria. Can I just say you people are incredibly fast? I think this update has been up for, what? Fifteen, twenty minutes, tops?**Bobo's Mom: I completely know what you mean. It would probably take me days to really explain how much 'me' there is in this fic. I certainly didn't intend it to turn out like that, but ... *shrug*
**W.I.: It's best not to ask about the carpeting. However, I personally feel (because it's late, I'm tired, and my brain goes to scary dirty places when it's late and I'm tired) the slogan should read "Smittens do it on the floor, on the bed, and various other horizontal surfaces, as well as a few vertical ones depending on their mood." I just have no idea how one would go about fitting all that on a crash helmet.
**jomarch: Thank you, jomarch - I appreciate the poems *G* Have fun at your mom's.
**W.I.: Something up on the way home? In broad daylight? Of course, the Construct doesn't need nighttime to go after Willow, as we've seen. Maybe I'll give them a break? *G*
-Sass
IP: LoggedjomarchCool Monster Fighter quote:
Originally posted by Sassette:
Truckers calling their wives, Smittens calling their moms, Cats and Dogs - living together - Mass Hysteria. Can I just say you people are incredibly fast? I think this update has been up for, what? Fifteen, twenty minutes, tops?
**jomarch: Thank you, jomarch - I appreciate the poems *G* Have fun at your mom's.-Sass
The poems are a very, very small offering for a very, very good story. I guess the best thing to say is to paraphrase Tara - Anything you need, anytime you need it.
Us smittens will obey and serve and wear matching outfits.
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posted March 07, 2002 02:21quote:
Originally posted by Sassette:
Truckers calling their wives, Smittens calling their moms, Cats and Dogs - living together - Mass Hysteria. Can I just say you people are incredibly fast? I think this update has been up for, what? Fifteen, twenty minutes, tops?
**jomarch: Thank you, jomarch - I appreciate the poems *G* Have fun at your mom's.-Sass
The poems are a very, very small offering for a very, very good story. I guess the best thing to say is to paraphrase Tara - Anything you need, anytime you need it.
Us smittens will obey and serve and wear matching outfits.
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