BTW R.J, I am too, you know.
Spoilers: All episodes. I am loosely tying this to my 'Empty Boxes' and 'Believe' pieces but I don't think you have to read them to understand this.
Rating: One more part till an 'R' rating. Maybe even an NC 17.
Disclaimer: All Characters contained here-in are owned by and products of the genius of Joss Whedon and Co.
"The Knight removed his gauntlet and cast it to the ground. He drew his sword. Now was the time for rebellion."
Legends of the Kiss part 8b
By Mariacomet
Tara’s thoughts:
“Shouldn’t you be at home fondling Red instead of that tree?”
I don’t look at him but the color rises high in my cheeks. I know who it is instantly and it doesn’t make me entirely happy that he of all people (if he can be called that) has found me here. Still, I try to continue with what I am doing. “Please be quiet, Spike.” I ask and close my eyes again. I am kneeling before the tree, the fingers of one hand splayed on the soil directly in front of me, while I murmur soft incantations. Near me is a small cloth bag. I almost lose my place and give into a smile as the memory of how difficult it was to sneak it past my ever curious Willow. I chide myself silently for almost losing focus. I must become more disciplined, especially if I am going to be the one the Scoobies will be looking to magically.
Spike does what I ask, for about minute. Right until the time that I draw a pearl-handled dagger from the bag.
He squats by my side, his elbows leaning lazily on his knees. “Well, the Lady Witch has a bit of cut to her. Very nice. You thinking of getting revenge on the tree, are you?”
I turn to him, feeling calm. “This tree acted as a gateway and guardian to Willow and I. It gave us a gift. I am going to ask from it one more gift, but first, I wanted to know what I could give to it.”
Spikes laughs at me. He doesn’t understand and of course, him being Spike, that means what I am doing is utterly stupid. “How Christmas of you.” He muses sardonically. His attention pivots from me to the area around us in consideration. “You do know that at least two vamps gave you the eye while you’ve been here. I chased them off.”
I feel a knowing, crooked smile slide over my lips. “Uh huh. Still trying to get in good with Buffy again?” Check and mate. His motives are usually crystal clear and they are tonight. The vampire lifts his shoulders in a mighty shrug, refusing to deny or confirm my words, but I know and he knows that I do. Spike hasn’t barged into the Summer’s home since the night Willow and I went on our journey. Neither has Buffy gone after him for his part in that night events. There’s an odd tension between the two. Not just anger or irritation. I can’t quite put a name to it. “I’ll be okay, Spike. You don’t have to stay. And I’ll tell Buffy you…helped.”
Spike moves to his feet and looks thoughtful for a moment. Again, his eyes dart to the darkness, a quick investigation of that which is his natural habitat. He gestures to me. “You’ve put me through too much trouble already. There’s too many things out at night like to make a snack out of a blonde little morsel like you. And you know that if anything happened, it would somehow be the fault of the Chipped vampire. So hurry up and finish your tree-grope, then I’m seeing you home.”
I had wanted this to take no more than an hour, but his presence isn’t helping. “I’ll be leaving in just a few minutes, Spike.” An hour is not really what I would call a few minutes. I hate lying, even to an amoral vampire. I almost feel guilty. But then I remember that I am doing this for Willow. And that Spike is Spike. The guilt fades.
He smirks. “You have out your ceremonial what nots. The more ceremony, the more involved the magic. This isn’t some a quick razzle-dazzle spell.” I flush again. I have never been much good at lying. This is not something I regret. Spike is looking over the bag at my feet, trying to figure out exactly what I am doing.
I sigh. “If y-you’re going to stay, then make yourself useful.” I hand him a small rake from the pack. “Dig. About half an inch. All the way around the base of the tree.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Yeah, okay, I’ll do that. Just as soon as it drops below zero in hell.”
“You know turning you into a toad IS still an option.” I shoot back. The fire in me catches him a bit off guard. Well, this is for Willow, the fire is to be expected. He snorts softly and I almost smile at his bemused expression. Almost.
“Keep forgetting you have some claws to you.” Spike says.
I tilt my head up in something akin to bravado, only I know that the look doesn’t quite come off the way I want it to. “Well I do. You’re the one that’s insisting on staying. The faster I get this done, the faster we can both be on our way.”
Even Spike usually capitulates to reason. He lets out a long exaggerate breath then takes the hoe and begins digging. He lights a cigarette, letting it dangle out of the side of his month. “So what kind of gift are you giving the tree? If you’re planning on taking another little trip…” Spike tilts his head to one side. “No, you’re the levelheaded one, aren’t you?”
I don’t answer, instead I slowly cut a perfect circle from the center of the tree trunk. What I carve out is about the size of a quarter and just about two centimeters thick. It hurts the tree to do this, I know. So I will make it right. I sheath the dagger and place it and the wood carefully into the bag.
“I’m not levelheaded about the people I love.” I answer him.
“No one is. Love and levelheaded don’t belong in the same sentence.” Spike keeps digging. Sometimes, for an ex-big bad, he can be wise. “You doing this for Willow then?” I nod as I looking over the spell components carefully, making sure I haven’t missed anything. “So you two are all flowers and sunsets again?”
I smile softly, still intent on my reading. “Getting there.”
“Bout time one of you got a clue and didn’t fight off the thing you want most.”
This catches my attention. “You’re talking about Buffy?” I ask.
“I’m not talking about the bleeding tooth fairy.” The words are sharp but they are directed inward, not at me. I believe that what he feels for Buffy is strong. That part is obvious. But love is a powerful emotion, and without a soul to guide him the love always has the potential to become utterly destructive. It is what he knows. I take a small bottle of water from my bag and rain water into the hole that Spike has dug in a counterclockwise motion. “She’s all push and pull. Can’t make up her mind. For a slayer, she’s dammed indecisive.”
I don’t look at him when I speak. “Can I ask you something?”
“Maybe. What?”
“How do you know you love Buffy?”
“You know that I could ask you the same thing about you and Red?” I nodded, acknowledging that. He rolls his eyes. “Alright, I’ll play. Because I’d do anything for her. I’d die for her.” His words are almost gentle now and I know he’s sincere. And somehow I know he wants, maybe even on some level needs, me to believe him. I do. I believe he loves her as much as he is capable of loving anyone. But it’s obsessive, masochistic love. It scares me that he loves Buffy this deeply, and I know I’m right to be scared. And some small part of me realizes that both of them are in danger from this kind of love, so in that moment - briefly - I fear for Spike as well. He has, after all, been an ally for some time now. I know that one of my weaknesses is wanting to see the best in those around me. I know it and despite the fact that he is a vampire, and that I am still a little angry at the manipulation of Willow and I with the Legend, I feeling a stirring of empathy.
When I speak again, I am do so gently. “Dawn loves you.” It’s true. He recoils, but he is wearing what is for him - a humble expression. “And … you helped keep us safe this summer.” I take another vial from the bag, this one with a mixing of herbs I have prepared and again, I sprinkle the herbs around the base of the tree.
“Buffy asked us to before she…” It’s hard for him to talk about. He swallows hard, but he doesn’t like showing this side so the expression is pushed away quickly. “Anyway, that’s why I helped saved your rumps. Besides I have to get action where I can nowadays.” Spike impatiently asked, “You almost done here or what?”
I ignore his curt tone. “Without you, I don’t know what we would have done.” I look into his eyes. I feel frank, and sincere. I am only telling him the truth. I am thanking him. It’s likely none of the others ever will. I think Xander would say that he doesn’t deserve it. Some things aren’t about what people deserve. Some things you do because you feel it’s right and because it matters. After he gets a chance to think about it, Spike will likely belittle what I have said and reduce it to an example of Scoobie Stupidity. That doesn’t matter either. In some cosmic scheme of things my saying thank you to Spike matters and is right, so I do. I have his attention. The vampire is trying to decide how to react, he’s uncertain. “But Spike, sometimes the most loving thing to do for someone is to let them go.” My voice is still calm and gentle. I am learning that he has a hard time firing his usual sardonic comments when I use this voice. Spike doesn’t know what to do with kindness.
“That’s not what she really wants.” He protests and stands up. “I can feel it. There’s something there. I know there is. Always has been.”
Spike truly doesn’t comprehend what I mean. It makes me sad. “You don’t understand her, Spike. You can’t.”
Spike’s temper begins to boil and I watch him struggle to contain it. “You just don’t want to see her for what she is. I understand things about her that none of you can.”
“Do you regret anything you did before you got the chip?”
Spike has a devilish glint in his eyes and it chills me. “What am I supposed to regret?”
“You killed people.” I answer simply.
Spike grins, his teeth baring in a gleaming, confident smile. “I’m a predator, lady witch. I did what everyone does, I made the most of things. When I became a vampire, that’s when I found out who I really am, what I’m really capable of.”
I can only imagine what he’s done. I want to shudder but I keep my facial features open, and strong. “You’ve been a vampire… for a couple hundred years?”
He nods. “That’s about right.”
“That’s the gap that separates you and Buffy. A couple hundred years and the fact that you killed more people then you could ever keep track of, and you don’t regret it. Not even one of them. Maybe you do understand some part of her, but she’ll never understand you.”
He starts to say something, but words seem to have deserted him. Spike looked down and ran his fingertips over the back of his hair. I have thrown him off his game again. He doesn’t like it. He also isn’t quite sure how to combat it. Since the day that I confronted him about the book, I have had his number and we both know it. “I’m gonna take a look around. Be back in a few minutes.”
Some time later, I whisper three words to the tree of the king. “Live and grow.” I can almost feel it’s roots burrow deeper into the earth. It’s mighty limbs have been mostly bare since winter played court to its leaves, but now green begins to sprout again. It’s an older spell that I am doing, one that requires only minor magic. I am merely helping the tree to stay healthy. My understanding is that druids used to practice similar spells. I think I have just added five years or so to the tree’s natural life span. The cut I have made heals but scars the wood. I am regretful of that, but an inner voice tells me that what I have given is enough. It has balanced the scales. I stand slowly and lay one hand on the tree in a farewell.
Spike is waiting and he sees to it I get home safely even though he doesn’t say more than two words to me the entire walk there.
At the doorway to Buffy’s house, the vampire starts to takes his leave, but then he pauses his brow furrowed. “I do love her, you know.” He says quietly. “I don’t want to, but I do.” Again, his eyes are asking to believe at least this much about him.
“Then you have to try and help her do what’s best for her.”
“And that’s not me, that’s what you think?” Spike snaps in frustration. “It’s better that she pretend she’s something she’s not? Be all Miss Goody Two shoes when deep inside she’s a glorious dark animal.”
I shake my head. “She’s the Slayer, and I would never want to walk the line b-between the dark and light that she does. You’re probably right about her being dark somewhere inside. But that’s not who she wants to be.” I counter in a quiet tone. “That’s who you want her to be.”
Sometimes I think that part of the man he once was is still inside him, and I believe it is this part that can no longer hold my gaze. “Tell the bit I said merry this, that and the other thing, will you?” Spike mutters.
“Spike?” I call to him. He pauses and turns back to me, his expression inscrutable. We regard one another, neither of us totally trusting or even liking the other, but there’s a strange respect building. “Merry Christmas.”
********************************************************************
Willow is Jewish and I am Wiccan. But actually we celebrate as many holidays as we can. Winter Solstice. Yule. Hanukah. And Christmas. It is Christmas morning and she has woken early, I can hear her padding around the room. I know she is trying to be quiet. She’s like a little kid though, anxious for everyone in the household to awaken so that we can all open our presents. But Willow, she’s almost more excited at the thought of people opening the presents she has gotten them, then opening the ones that people have gotten for her. It’s only been a couple of days since we have been back together. She is my Christmas gift.
It’s strange and familiar, being with her again. It feels odd sharing clothes and a bathroom, and a bed. It’s unbelievable to be able to reach out and touch her whenever I want to. She’s right there, right in front of me. This is not a dream, this is real. She’s real and I am learning to trust her again. Or maybe I am learning to trust my own heart again, to follow its lead and not be afraid that I will be led into disaster.
I open my eyes and watch her. She’s sitting on the floor with a large volume in her lap. She’s been reading a lot on demons and artifacts lately, or so she’s told me. Willow is trying to study, but she keeps looking at the clock. Her hair is slightly ruffled and her highlighter pen is making a tapping sound against the carpet. I can’t hold back a smile.
She feels my eyes on her. Sometimes that happens between us. Sometimes before I come into a room, she just knows that I am going to. Sometimes I just suddenly know that she is looking at me or thinking about me.
Our eyes meet and I feel an instant connection. I am drawn into her eyes, unable to look away. This is real. It’s Christmas morning and I’m here with her.
“Merry Christmas, Tara.” She says.
Our smiles are both huge now as I return the words. “Merry Christmas, Willow.”
I move out of bed, still sharing the mutual stare. I move to my knees before her and look at the book. I can’t read all of the title immediately. It’s Latin. I can’t resist the pull of my lover’s gaze, I am magnetized back to staring into her eyes. We can’t help what happens next.
Willow’s hands move to the carpet so that she can balance herself as she leans forward. Her mouth claims mine. She is aggressive and confident, and it is a hungry kiss that starts as an inferno and maintains the hissing, crackling heat. She challenges me to match her need and I do. She dares me to deny what she does to me, and I can’t. Soon our tongues are flirting with one another, exploring leisurely - tracing everywhere. I am nibbling at her mouth and sucking, and the kiss grows bolder. Our tongues are tangling, then writhing against one another as we seek to plunge deeper. We both groan into the kiss. This has happened often the last couple of days. We keep getting swept away by one another. She runs the tip of her tongue over the center of my parted lips, flicking there. I love when she does that and she knows it. She knows what it does to me. The flush of heat that runs over me is wild. It courses down my body and I cling to her. I know we should stop. I don’t want it to stop. Not yet. Not just yet.
She knows me. Goddess, how she knows me. Her fingers are sliding down my back and I am suddenly her violin and at my lower back she plays and my strings hum. Her mouth is commanding the pace. Slow and teasing like two lovers moving together in a slow dance. Fast and deep, so carnal that we are two beasts devouring one another. She changes the pace again. Slow again. Then fast. And all I can think is that I love her. And then it’s just her name ringing over and over in my head. She is the lighthouse, leading me home and she is the storm that is tossing and turning me, threatening to drown me.
I need her. I need her hands. I press into her and we both moan. She is rolling me beneath her and she shivers as she moves atop me. We are both gasping for air. I feel heat so intense that it is radiating off me in waves. I am so hot that I almost feel faint, but at the same time I feel so alive, so conscious of every movement my lover makes. Her fingertips are skimming the edge of my breast. The touch is tentative, and uncertain.
“Yes.” I sigh against her mouth and finally her hand covers me, and under that first fledgling, still uncertain touch my hardening nipple aches so much that it is almost unbearable. “More.” I groan.
My mind is chanting her name again. This time in rapid succession to match my pounding heart. She touches me, her fingertips rolling slowly as she watches me. My thighs part and I am liquid for her.
It takes a moment to register that someone is knocking - no - make that… BANGING on our door. Willow blinks and our eyes lock. We are both still fighting for breath. Her hand is still on me. She licks her suddenly dry lips. I am hoping that I was just imagining the noise. The banging comes again.
“Willow? Tara?” comes a loud voice. It’s Dawnie.
It is followed by the voice of her older sister. “Anya and Xander are here. Anya apparently has embraced the idea of Christmas and couldn’t wait to get to her presents.” Buffy raised her voice. “Imagine her surprise when she finds only coal.” Then more conversationally. “If I have to be up, you two have to be up. Burning daylight here, people.”
I close my eyes and I feel Willow gently rest her brow to mine. “You’re sure the sending them to an alternate universe for a couple of hours is a bad idea?”
I laugh, albeit shakily. She steals another kiss, one that is gentle and lingering.
“We have time.” I whisper. Her green eyes light up and she gives me a dazzling smile.
I love her. I caress her face. She moves, pulling me to my feet. We squeeze one another’s hands and reluctantly head to the door.
*********************************************************************
Willow’s thoughts:
It’s only been two days and I am beginning to wonder how we lasted this long. We keep trading all these looks and all these little touches and I know it doesn’t sound like a big deal, but it really is. The thing is that I can’t stop myself from giving her the little looks and touches. I mean, I guess I could leave. But it’s Christmas, and outside? Brrr. Plus, Dawn, Buffy and the others would never forgive me. Still, technically leaving is an option. Tara is across the room, playing fashion advisor to Anya. The ex-demon got clothes from everyone. Except Xander, who just gave us a little smile and told us that he had given her present number one before they had come over and he would give her the other present later. I’m hoping, REALLY hoping that’s not some sort of sex reference, but when I look at how dreamy-eyed Anya gets, I decide it’s probably not - at least not overtly. And I’m suddenly jealous. Because this thing with Tara and I is so new again and I want us to be the ones exchanging dreamy looks. Xander’s my best friend, though, so I really do want him to be happy, which he seems to be.
But is it wrong for me to want ‘dreamy Tara.’ I’m kicking myself here because I know I should be patient. Like, up in the bedroom. Hello? PATIENCE, Willow! I am trying. I should be protective. I know she’s not ready. We probably aren’t ready. It’s been six months and it’s not like you can just jump back into old habits after six months. I don’t think you can, anyway.
I sigh at myself. My mind is moving a mile a minute. Sometimes my mind moves so fast, trying to analyze so much that it makes me tired. That’s how I feel now. I just want to do the right thing in her eyes. But I realize I’m still afraid. After everything how could I possibly be afraid? What on earth is there left to be afraid of?
Anyway it’s pretty much the usual Christmas in the Buffy household. Except that Giles isn’t here. He did send presents though and he promised he would call later. But there’s a tree and lots and lots of presents - well there were presents - now there is just mostly torn wrapping paper. Buffy, Tara and Dawn have saved my present to open till last. Because they know that is my favorite part and they like torturing me. But that’s okay, because I love them and because this wonderful, intelligent blonde keeps walking by me and touching my shoulders. If tradition holds, later will be the big Scoobie Christmas brunch. Tara is the resident cook nowadays and if ANYONE thinks they are getting MY girlfriend to cook for them before Tara opens my gift, they are a few eggs short of a dozen. I know how much the Scoobies like to eat, so I am thinking time is on my side.
Tara is drinking hot tea across the room while she listens to Anya prattle on, and she catches my eye. We shared a small smile that has so much electricity running through it that it makes my tummy do flip-flops. How can she do that to me after all this time? Aren’t feelings like that supposed to fade and become comfortable? I like that it never has. I love that even after two years, it’s all still so new.
Dawn calls our attention to the fact that she is opening our gift. Tara and I gather around her. Out of all of us, she has made out like a bandit. She and Buffy are the only Scoobies that got a gift from BOTH of us. We had decided to give one gift to Dawn as a show of solidarity.
The whole present for Dawn question had led to many hours of discussion between Tara and I. We decided on something both practical and kind of cool.
“Cell phone!” Dawn cried joyously. She almost bowls over my lover with a hug. Then she turns the same jubilation on me. I’m thrilled at this reaction. I still CAN be teenager cool when I to be.
“Dawnie,” Tara said in her best motherly tone. “We have you paid up for six months. After that, you are on your own.”
We had used a brand spanking new credit card to accomplish this. In my name.
Buffy gave a little pout. “Gadgets. She got gadgets. I want gadgets.”
“Open your present, Buffy.” I encouraged and when she did, she found another cell phone just like Dawn’s. Different colors of course, but other wise identical. We did get Buffy a cell phone holster too. Mostly because I got this image of an old western in my head when I thought of Buffy and a cell phone. And again, credit. In Tara’s name. We promised one another we would visit one another in Debtor's prision if it comes to it. “Happy Slayer?” I ask Buffy.
“Happy Slayer.” Buffy confirms and then gives Tara and I a hug.
“Have you opened Tara’s present yet?” Dawn asks me. She can barely hold still, she’s practically dancing in place. She knows something. The others have kind of formed a half circle around me. They all have twinkling eyes and little smiles. It’s a conspiracy. They all know something.
The woman I love meekly comes forward holding up a small package tied with a little bow. It is my theory that there are ‘wrappers’ and ‘non-wrappers’ when it comes to gifts. Tara’s gifts always are wrapped smoothly and have bows with the little curly things on the end. Mine always come out lumpy and are held together by lots of scotch tape. I sit down with the gift in my hands and she takes the place next to me. I stare into her eyes a moment. The Scoobies gather around us. I carefully unwrap the present even though what I really want to do is tear into it like there is no tomorrow. But there’s a law or something about really nicely wrapped presents and you can’t do that.
I find a small white box, and slowly lift off the lid. I don’t care what’s in it. My baby has gotten me a gift. MY. Baby. I never thought she would be mine again. I hoped, but I don’t think I ever really believed it. Yet it’s true, here she is, sitting next to me with soft glowing eyes. I could just sit here and watch her all day. That could be my present and I’d be happy.
I look down to the box in my hand and see a small nickel shaped pendant made of oak. It has been varnished and is hanging on a small silver chain. I lift the pendant up. There is a picture of two swans on one side and the image of a moon on the other.
“It’s from our tree. The… the oak tree. You know, the blue one?”
“Aww, baby, did you have to hurt it?” I’m worried more for her than the tree. I know how she feels about nature.
I can tell she is pleased that I asked. “I gave it something. It’s not much. But it will live a little longer in it’s natural life.” She takes in a deep breath. Tara is so adorably nervous and I love her more than I ever have. She turns the wood over in my hand and traces the swans. “I carved… it’s a symbol of… an unending promise. Swans… mate for life.” Our gazes are only for one another now. A lump rises in my throat and it’s all I can do to nod and not break down into tears. I want to fall into her arms. She gently turns the coin shaped wood piece over. “The moon… I want you to remember who you are, Willow, How strong you are.”
In Tara's eyes, I am like the moon. That's what she thinks of me. I am never taking this pendant off. No one has ever seen me the way she does. When she looks at me, I know that the person she sees is not lacking. She thinks I’m extraordinary, and while I am not sure I agree, being with her gives me the courage to try and be that person. This kind hearted, beautiful, generous woman has chosen me. I have been given a gift, such a gift.
“I love you.” I say. The words never pass my mind, they jump straight to my lips from my heart much too quickly for my brain to voice an opinion. “Help me try it on?”
She moves behind me and gently, carefully lifts the hair from my neck. She settles the silver necklace over my throat. My fingers hold the pendant as she secures the clasp. I turn back to her. “I love it.”
One of her lip corners lift in a wide, crooked little grin. I move to embrace her, sighing happily into her neck. She squeezes my shoulders and keeps me close. I want to kiss her, but kissing her the way I want to right now would be a bad idea in front of the others. We both feel it, that intense longing to be alone. I can see it in her dusk blue eyes when we part. My eyes echo the same feeling back to hers. My doubts try to rise. The ones that tell me we should be waiting, that I should be more protective of her, that we should take it slow. For the moment I am not listening and the electricity is crackling between us. Buffy intervenes, wanting to see my new necklace.
“It’s lovely.” She tells Tara and I gently.
“I think it’s romantic.” Dawn says.
I slip an arm around Dawnie’s shoulders. “I think so too.” I have made my girl smile at me again and my heart feels full and light all at the same time.
I realize that Tara still hasn’t opened my gift and I take her hand and pull her towards the stairs. “Wait! Wait! My present! Come on.” I am not sure that made any sense at all but she seems to get it and follows me, just as the rest of the gang does.
I pull out a chair at the desk and sit down right in front of my laptop. The love of my life raises a curious brow at me. My grin grows mischievous and I pat my lap. She raises both her brows now, but moves to obey the silent questions. She folds her delicate weight against mine and I motion toward the screen, manipulating the mouse with the hand that is not holding Tara close.
Her expression is both openly interested and curious. “So,” I begin nervously. “You know how you keep saying that you aren’t a computer person? And how you started acting all Gilesy and calling p.c.’s ‘contraptions’?” I point the button to a ‘T’ icon on the desktop of the computer and double-click. Three windows pop open. “See?” I am trying not to sound half as proud of this as I feel. It took me weeks to program. “One stop shopping. This one… well it’s your page. A Tara page. See? There’s pictures of you… and us. And I made it so that in the background, it will list the time and date of when Animal Planet and those gardening shows you like are on television. And there’s a little biography of you through well… now. And if you click on the Tara time-line…” I demonstrated this for her. “See? That’s baby Tara and then three year old Tara, and… well I kind of went a bit crazy with the pictures, but let’s just say that your life is well represented. I scanned in some of your favorite poems too. There’s links - there’s a bunch of Wiccan links sorted in alphabetical order. And some sites on horses and even some things for your more academic pursuits. And here… see this button? It’s actually linked back to the hard drive and you click it and all your favorite songs are on it. I admit, I went overboard again… there’s a good six hours worth of mp3’s. And then see? The third window. I’m still working on it, but I have been scanning in spells. You can do searches for whatever you are looking for. I figured if you are gonna be the big witchy woman now that you should have one helluva database.” I can’t read her expression and she hasn’t said anything all through my ramble, so naturally - I start to panic. “I know it’s not much, but you have the whole we don’t spend money on gifts for one another rule and I programmed it all myself.”
She kisses me long and soft. I manage to quiet. Suddenly Tara’s expression as she gazes at me can only be described as dreamy.
Again we pull one another close, we hold each other. This is real. We’re together. We draw apart and notice the other Scoobies again. They are grinning wildly. Happy for us. Xander winks at me. Dawn kisses both our foreheads.
We’re a family and we’re finally complete again.
Tara’s thoughts -
That night, I feel like I can’t get upstairs with Willow fast enough. Yet I notice that there is a hesitation in Willow. She follows me up the stairs, but when she comes into our room and closes the door behind her, what I see is a kind of resignation. I don’t understand it.
I take her hands. “You look like you’re having deep thoughts.”
“I’m thinking about you.” She answers, squeezing my hands. She draws in a deep breath. “I need you to know how much I love you, and how much I want you.” Her fingertips are playing with mine. “It’s just… it’s been two days. I feel like my body is racing way ahead and if I let it do that, I’m not taking care of you. I know you’re still afraid. I just want to take it slow. I want… I want it to be your decision.”
I feel ready. I feel more then ready. My mind begins to churn. Maybe she’s right. Maybe in order to take care of one another, we should wait a bit longer. But there’s something else there too, there’s a fear in her voice. It is that more than anything that convinces me she is right.
“It’s all up to you, Tara.”
“Do you still want me to stay here?” I know how difficult that might make this new agreement.
Her expression is vulnerable. “I love waking up next to you. I’m not a morning person, but when we started you know, being together, and when I got to wake up… I look forward to that now. I’ve missed it. I want that feeling. For as long as I can have it. ”
She’s never said that to me before. I have always liked the mornings, but she makes my world feel filled with color and warmth, she makes it spring. I have felt so cold for six months and suddenly everything in me is alive again. “You know, snuggles wouldn’t be a bad thing right now.”
Willow gives a devilish grin. “Well they’re a close second.” I laugh even as she leads me to bed. We talk all night. It’s Christmas and I am home.
[This message has been edited by mariacomet (edited March 10, 2002).]