Fic: With the Sky Burning Red (1/1)
Title: With the Sky Burning Red
Pairing: Willow/Tara
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~4,000
Beta: ssddgr
Summary: On her twentieth birthday, her family visited and Tara left Sunnydale forever. Five years later she's trapped in a life she never wanted, and only one person can set her free.
Notes: I don't tend to write pairings other than Spuffy, so when I got the idea and inspiration for this fic it was a definite surprise. Dedicated to Jo (msfantastico87 ) and Jane (Tillow4Ever) - the biggest fans of Willow/Tara I know! Millions of thanks to Sotia for beta reading and getting this back to me so promptly. I hope you enjoy!
With the Sky Burning Red
16th October 2006
The lake was always beautiful at this time of year. The still, tranquil water reflected the myriad colours of the trees: the deep, forest greens of the perennials, and the reds, yellows and oranges of the fallen leaves, now a crinkly carpet at the edge of the shore.
It was sunset, and the fat disc of the sun hung low in the sky. Tara sighed and turned her gaze to the lake once more, to watch as the water was turned orange by the light.
It seemed that nature was conspiring against her. She was surrounded by shades of red and orange, ochre and crimson. Colours that made her think of-
No. It didn’t do to dwell on the past.
She stood up, turning to face the cabin at the edge of the forest. The door was open, and a pair of heavy boots lay haphazardly on the Welcome mat.
Tara started down the jetty, her bare feet making no sound on planks worn smooth by time. She kept her eyes fixed on the door to the cabin and, sure enough, a man with a ruddy, weather-beaten face appeared on the porch within moments.
He waved. “Tara!”
She sighed. Lee was always so pleased to see her. Slipping on the mask of happy wife, of homemaker, she ran the last few metres of the jetty and fell into his welcoming arms.
***
2nd January 2007
Large family gatherings weren’t unusual in these parts. In fact, it would be more unusual to spend the holidays alone, and so both the Maclay and Denver families had come together in town to celebrate.
Her father had looked well, more so than the last time she’d seen him, and she’d had to wonder yet again at the veracity of his claims. Five years ago, he’d shown her the paperwork-the doctor’s diagnoses, prescriptions, dates and times of minor surgeries-and she’d believed him. In remission, they’d called it, but with the possibility of relapse. You’d best stay and look after him.
Time had given her a new perspective and she re-examined now those days and weeks following her return home with fresh eyes. Her father hadn’t been in robust health, but he hadn’t been on death’s door, as she’d been led to believe. And if he hadn’t been dying, he’d forced her into this life for nothing.
Too late, now. Her father had made her bed for her, and she had to lie in it.
Tara quite liked Lee’s family. His mother and father were elderly, having waited until late in their lives to have children. They were sweet to her, and she couldn’t begrudge them a thing. Tara didn’t really know his cousins and aunts and uncles, but no one was ever rude to her. No one ever asked her about her time in Sunnydale-the time everyone referred to as ‘before’-and for that she was glad. She didn’t like to talk about it.
Didn’t like to think about it, either, but sometimes late at night the thoughts would come unbidden. Blurry memories of demons and the thrilling terror that came in fighting them; fuzzy recollections of friendly smiles and finally feeling like she had a place to call home; ephemeral remembrances of red-gold hair, warm lips, and soft, feminine curves. These last often sent her hand slip-sliding over her breasts, along her stomach, and down, down, until a soft grunt and snore from Lee in the bed beside her stilled her movements.
But no one ever mentioned Sunnydale, and Tara was able to keep the memories, unclear as they were, to herself. And for that she was infinitely grateful.
***
13th June 2007
“Tara,” Lee said, setting his knife down on the table. “What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing.” She shook her head, eyes wide, wondering how he’d known she was upset. The mask had slipped, and she tried now to force it back into place.
“Come on, Tara,” Lee replied. “You’ve been my wife for four years now. I know when something ain’t right.”
Shaking her head, Tara stared resolutely down at her empty plate. “I’m fine.”
“There is something.” Lee insisted. “I know you.”
The scraping of her chair on the floor as she shoved it backwards sounded overly loud in the room. “You don’t know me!” She stood up, and went to the window. The lake was coloured burnt orange again. Tears filled her eyes, and she said more quietly, “You’ve never known me.”
Tara felt Lee come to stand behind her, his hands tentative when he set them on her shoulders. “Is this about... before? About Wil-”
“Don’t say her name,” Tara said, turning to face him. “Please. If you say her name, I’ll-” Cry. Break down. Wish I’d done things differently. Hate my father even more. “Just don’t say it, okay?”
Lee nodded. He took her by the hand and led her back to the table, where they both sat down again. “You gonna tell me what’s up, then?”
“I don’t understand why you wanted to marry me,” Tara said, not wanting to reveal the cause for her upset just yet.
“Fell in love with you,” Lee replied, and a sad smile creased his face. “It’s an easy thing to do, Tara.”
Smiling crookedly, she plucked at the white tablecloth. “Even knowing it wasn’t my choice? Even after I told you about… about Sunnydale? Even knowing I didn’t-could never-love you the same way?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” Tara said, closing her eyes. “You deserve more.”
Lee shrugged uncomfortably. “I know this ain’t what you wanted, but we’re happy sometimes, right? You don’t hate it here so much?”
“No.” Tara tried to smile. She thought of the beauty of the lake, of Lee’s quiet kindness even when she was being her most difficult. “I don’t hate it.”
“Well, good. My mama’d have my hide if she thought I weren’t treating you right.”
At this, Tara had to grin. The thought of frail old Mrs. Denver having anyone’s hide was laughable.
“Good,” Lee said again. “Now that’s sorted, you want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”
She frowned, thinking he’d forget what had started them on that train of conversation in the first place. Sighing, she raised her eyes to meet his. “I’m l-late. Um, my period, I mean. J-just by a few days, so I don’t know if it means I’m…”
“Pregnant?”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Lee had a slight smile on his face. “Not gonna get excited,” he said. “Not till we know for definite. You go into town tomorrow and see about getting a test.”
Tara nodded, not entirely certain that she wanted to know for sure.
***
14th June 2007
The cashier in the drugstore had given her a knowing smile when handing over her change. Tara had refrained from rolling her eyes until she’d left the store; living in a town where everyone knew who you were had its definite disadvantages.
She wanted to wait until she got home to take the test, but she still wasn’t quite ready to know, so she made her way to the nearest café, ordered a drink, and took a seat near the window to watch the world go by.
It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise, really. Tara had been expecting it for the last five years, but in an abstract way. Hypothetical-something that she’d half-anticipated but never really thought would happen.
Now that it had happened, she dropped her cup, the ceramic mug smashing into pieces and splashing lukewarm tea down her legs.
Willow-for of course it was Willow, looking every bit as beautiful as she had the last time Tara had seen her-stood in the doorway of the café, a stricken expression on her face.
“Tara?” Willow’s voice was barely a whisper. “Oh, Tara.”
Tara stood, her shoes crunching the broken pieces of her mug into the floor. She stared at Willow, taking in her sharper, more angular face. Her hair was longer, but the red no less vibrant.
Tara shook her head and felt her stomach churn. She turned, ran to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet.
***
Whenever Tara looked back on her time in Sunnydale, it felt like a dream. The memories had a blurry, fuzzy quality to them, as though they were not quite real. The often-found presence of demons in the memories made it easy to dismiss them as such. A fairytale life that had happened to another girl.
Willow’s sudden reappearance in her life brought the memories into sharp focus.
Tara remembered now with full clarity what it was to see a vampire turn to dust in front of you, the harsh, metallic tang of freshly spilled blood. The oftentimes cloying smell of The Bronze: sweat and beer and something musty and unidentifiable.
But most of all, she remembered Willow: the first person to ever show her love, and the first person she had ever loved. The only person she had ever loved.
They sat together now on the banks at the edge of the lake. Tara had been right; the setting sun turned the lake almost the exact same colour as Willow’s hair, and she had to fight the sudden urge to reach over and run her hand through the red locks.
After voiding the contents of her stomach into the toilet back at the café, Tara had rinsed her mouth out and taken a deep, shuddering breath. She had gone back into the main room and apologised to Mrs. Owens for breaking the cup. She’d then turned to Willow, who was still standing near the doorway, still with a stricken expression on her face.
Filled with a sudden strength, Tara had gone over to Willow, taken her by the hand, and led her out of the café and through the winding streets that meandered to her home by the lake. They hadn’t spoken-not a single word until they had passed the cabin, and Willow had asked, “Is that where you live?”
Tara had nodded and carried on walking, her hand still in Willow’s, until they’d come to the water’s edge.
“My girlfriend died,” Willow began, eventually. “Two months ago.”
“Oh.” Tara didn’t really know what to say. What could she say? To say I’m sorry would be a lie, a false platitude that she had no business repeating.
“Her name was Kennedy,” Willow said. “She was a Slayer. As you know, death kind of goes with the territory-”
“Does that mean Buffy-?”
“Nope.” Willow paused, and frowned. “Well, yeah. She did. But uh, we kind of brought her back. Me. I did, with magic. She’s fine now. Living in England, with Spike… but back then, it was all kinds of bad. I wish you’d been-” She broke off with a laugh, eyeing the gold ring on Tara’s finger. “Too late, right? You’re married.”
Tara closed her eyes and swallowed past the lump in her throat. She bit her lip, trying to keep the words inside, but they burst from her anyway. “Why didn’t you come after me?”
Willow’s eyes widened. “I did! I mean, I tried to. That letter you sent… you didn’t say where you’d gone, but I tried to do a locator spell. It didn’t work, and I thought you were blocking me. Hiding yourself. I thought you didn’t want to be found. So I left you alone.”
“I did,” Tara whispered. “I wanted to be found. I wanted you to find me. I hoped-I spent so long hoping.”
“I’m sorry,” Willow said. “If I’d known.” She stopped abruptly.
Tara hated how halting their conversation was, how awkward. Back then, before, talking to Willow had been so easy, as natural as breathing.
“Tara,” Willow said. “Tara, I can understand why you didn’t come back to Sunnydale, what with your dad and everything, but why didn’t you keep in touch?” She glanced around. “You have phones out here, right? Sorry, that was rude.”
Tara raised an eyebrow before ducking her head and plucking at the dirt on the ground. “I wasn’t allowed to,” she said. “You have to understand what it was like for me. My dad told me he was sick, really sick. Dying. I had to stay and help… and then I had to marry Lee.”
“Had to?” Willow asked. “Cos I gotta say, I thought you were very clearly a for-the-gals gal.”
“I was. Still am.”
“Then… I don’t understand.” Willow frowned. “Unless-did your dad make you marry Lee? Cos Tara, that’s-that’s not on.”
“He didn’t force me to,” Tara replied. “Not exactly.” She sighed and met Willow’s eyes. “He blackmailed me, I guess. It took me a few years to see it for what it was… but that’s what he did. Emotional blackmail.” Her voice cracked. “You don’t know how it is, with my family.” Shrugging, she looked away again. “It’s not so bad. Lee’s a good man; he’s been a good friend to me.”
“Tara, I wish-”
“Don’t regret my life for me,” Tara replied. “Please.”
“Sorry.”
They fell into silence, the only sounds the familiar noises of night closing in. Tara wondered if Lee was home yet, and what she would say to him when she and Willow went back up to the cabin. She glanced behind her, but there were no lights shining from the windows, no sign of life at all.
Willow was staring out across the lake, and Tara took the chance to look at her. She didn’t look too different: slightly older, a little more worn and tired, but still Willow. Still the girl Tara’d fallen in love with. Tara studied the slight smattering of freckles across Willow’s cheek, the curve of her eyelashes when she blinked. She felt the sudden, irrepressible urge to kiss her.
“What are you thinking?” Willow said suddenly, turning to look at Tara.
“Um.” Tara looked down. “N-nothing.”
“Oh. It’s just... you had that look in your eyes. The look that always said-”
“I want to kiss you.”
Willow grinned. “Yeah. That.”
Tara swallowed and watched as the smile slid from Willow’s face. Her expression became sombre, and the atmosphere was suddenly heavy and loaded with anticipation.
They moved cautiously, as though neither one were sure of what they were doing. A moment before their lips pressed together, Tara thought she saw tears shining in Willow’s eyes. She knew that there were tears in her own eyes.
The kiss was at once familiar and oh-so-strange. After so many years of being kissed by Lee, with his strong jaw and stubbled chin, this soft kiss from Willow felt odd, but most welcome.
Willow kissed her like a woman starved: from gentle, yielding touches of her lips to hard pushes that felt almost bruising. Tara allowed herself to be pushed to the ground and, with Willow’s slight weight on top of hers, she almost felt like her old self again.
Willow broke away to rest her forehead on Tara’s. “I missed you,” she said plaintively.
“I missed you,” Tara echoed, her voice no louder than a whisper.
“Can’t believe,” Willow started in between kisses, “I found you. I finally found you.”
“You-you found me.” Tara agreed, arching her neck when Willow kissed the sensitive skin behind her ear.
***
The chill of the night eventually forced them inside, Tara frowning a little when she saw that the lights in the cabin were still dim.
She clicked on the kitchen light, blinking into the sudden brightness. The room suddenly felt too small; Willow stood awkwardly in the doorway, her hair mussed and lips swollen from kisses.
“Um, sit down,” Tara said, and moved towards the stove. “I’ll make tea.”
Willow nodded jerkily and sat at the kitchen table. Tara set to making the tea, boiling the kettle and preparing the mugs. A crinkling sound drew her attention, and she turned to find Willow picking up a piece of notepaper from the table.
“It’s a note,” Willow said, when she saw Tara looking. “For you.”
Tara took the paper, quickly scanned the few words written on it, and felt a shudder of guilt wash over her and settle deep in the pit of her stomach.
Tara,
Came home, but I see you’re busy. I’m heading over to Jim’s for the night - back tomorrow. Have a nice evening.
-Lee
The words were simple, but she could hear the accusation behind them. She put the note down and picked up a spoon, to heap sugar into the mugs. The silverware clattered against the sides of the cup, and she looked at her hands curiously. They were shaking.
When Willow’s warm palm closed over her hand, Tara closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink backwards into the other woman’s embrace. “What are we doing?” she whispered.
“Living,” Willow replied, drawing Tara’s long hair behind her shoulder.
“Your girlfriend just died. I’m married.” Tara gasped when Willow touched her lips to her neck. “We shouldn’t…”
“Don’t think about it.” Willow cajoled. “Just… just let yourself feel.”
***
After, they lay in the bed Tara shared with Lee, their limbs tangled together, and the taste of each other staining their lips.
Turning her head away from Willow, Tara buried her face in the pillow and felt hot tears well up in her eyes. The pillow smelled of Lee.
“You’re regretting it,” Willow said. “This.”
Tara took a deep breath and turned back to face Willow. “You always did know what I was thinking,” she said. The silence lay heavy on the room. “I’m sorry.”
“I understand,” Willow replied, but her voice was flat. She sat up, clutched the sheet to her chest and looked around for her clothes. “I should go.”
Tara made no move to stop her, though she knew that they should talk about what had just happened, work out what they should do next.
“Here,” Willow said a few moments later. She took a notepad and pen from her bag and tore off a sheet. “My number. If you want to talk. Or…”
Sitting up, Tara drew the bedcovers around her body and moved to stand in front of Willow. She took the other woman’s hands between her own, noting how cold the skin was, how tense she felt. “If things were different,” Tara said. “You’re not over Kennedy-” She shook her head when Willow opened her mouth to protest. “You’re not. And as much as I wish I weren’t, I’m married.”
“I love you.” Willow whispered.
Tara smiled crookedly. “I love you, too.” They were just words, four simple words, but the shape of them felt strange in her mouth. She’d never said I love you to Lee; she’d never needed to. He’d never demanded it of her. Saying it now to Willow, Tara felt the dam break, the flood of tears she’d been holding back since they’d made love rising to the surface and overflowing.
She clutched Willow’s shoulders, her grip so tight she knew it would bruise. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Willow’s arms came around her body, at first rough as they slid to the floor together, then gentle as they tried to calm her.
“I’m sorry.” Tara sobbed, the words wrenched from between gasping breaths. She apologised for the kisses, for the touches they’d shared. For making love to Willow when the woman was half-broken and when she herself was committed to another. For marrying Lee. For believing her father’s lies. For leaving Sunnydale. “Forgive me, please.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Willow said quietly, her lips ghosting over the silky sheen of Tara’s hair. “Nothing to forgive.”
***
27th June 2007
The days following Willow’s visit had passed in a blur.
Lee had come home the next day, his expression wary and his posture jumpy, as though he hadn’t expected to find her alone. Tara had eradicated all trace that Willow had ever been in the cabin; fresh sheets were on the bed, and the extra mug was washed up and put away.
It was pointless; Lee knew what had happened. He could read it in her face, and Tara didn’t try to hide it. But he didn’t mention it, and she didn’t either, and their lives went on.
She’d got her period two days later, before she’d had a chance to take the test, and the sight of the blood in her panties had brought tears to her eyes. Not pregnant. No baby. She hadn’t known whether to be relieved or sad.
A tiny part of her had thrilled with happiness, a voiceless whisper in her ear that she no longer had to worry about being tied to Lee. That she could leave, go to Willow. Start her life again.
She’d pushed the thought away and left the bathroom, wondering how to tell Lee that she wasn’t pregnant.
***
25th September 2007
“You’re not happy,” Lee said suddenly. He scrubbed a hand over the rough stubble on his chin and looked at her with weary eyes. “Go. Just go.”
“Lee-”
“I’ll sort things with your dad. Go, all right?”
Tara looked at him for several moments before standing. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
***
27th September 2007
“Willow? Hi. It’s me. Could we meet? Yes. No. I-Next week, okay. I’ll-I’ll be there.”
***
5th October 2007
Had it only been a year since she’d sat on the banks of the lake and thought of Willow? It seemed longer.
The sky looked the same shade of red, even here on the other side of the country. Tara pulled her car to a stop and stared at the road ahead. It came to an abrupt end, a yellow warning sign telling her to be cautious, keep back: danger ahead!
She slammed the car door, and the sound echoed around the empty landscape. A barbed wire fence ringed the perimeter of the crater, but it looked so flimsy that anyone with half a mind to climb over it would be able to.
Scrubby desert weeds pushed through what remained of the tarmac road, a thin layer of sand covered everything, and there, standing at the edge of the crater was Willow.
She was facing away from Tara, her arms hanging at her sides and her head bent.
Slow, cautious steps took Tara closer and closer to the place she had once called home, now no more than a deep crater filled with intermittent shallow pools of water. She didn’t know what had happened here; when Willow had visited in June they hadn’t spoken properly of the past. It didn’t matter now; there was only the present and the future.
She came to a stop by Willow’s side, and though the redhead’s gaze didn’t waver from the empty crater, she knew Tara was there.
“It’s funny,” Willow said, breaking the silence a few moments later. “I never thought I’d come back here. When it happened, we-Buffy and Xander and me-we all said we wouldn’t ever be back. Too many bad memories. Now though… I’m remembering the good, too.”
“Sometimes you have to go back to where it started,” Tara said. She edged a little closer to Willow and grasped the other woman’s hand. “We can’t change the past, not now, but we can look to the future.”
“Together?”
Tara squeezed Willow’s hand and allowed herself to smile. Behind them, the sun burned the sky a deep red. “Together.”
-END-
Pairing: Willow/Tara
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~4,000
Beta: ssddgr
Summary: On her twentieth birthday, her family visited and Tara left Sunnydale forever. Five years later she's trapped in a life she never wanted, and only one person can set her free.
Notes: I don't tend to write pairings other than Spuffy, so when I got the idea and inspiration for this fic it was a definite surprise. Dedicated to Jo (msfantastico87 ) and Jane (Tillow4Ever) - the biggest fans of Willow/Tara I know! Millions of thanks to Sotia for beta reading and getting this back to me so promptly. I hope you enjoy!
With the Sky Burning Red
16th October 2006
The lake was always beautiful at this time of year. The still, tranquil water reflected the myriad colours of the trees: the deep, forest greens of the perennials, and the reds, yellows and oranges of the fallen leaves, now a crinkly carpet at the edge of the shore.
It was sunset, and the fat disc of the sun hung low in the sky. Tara sighed and turned her gaze to the lake once more, to watch as the water was turned orange by the light.
It seemed that nature was conspiring against her. She was surrounded by shades of red and orange, ochre and crimson. Colours that made her think of-
No. It didn’t do to dwell on the past.
She stood up, turning to face the cabin at the edge of the forest. The door was open, and a pair of heavy boots lay haphazardly on the Welcome mat.
Tara started down the jetty, her bare feet making no sound on planks worn smooth by time. She kept her eyes fixed on the door to the cabin and, sure enough, a man with a ruddy, weather-beaten face appeared on the porch within moments.
He waved. “Tara!”
She sighed. Lee was always so pleased to see her. Slipping on the mask of happy wife, of homemaker, she ran the last few metres of the jetty and fell into his welcoming arms.
***
2nd January 2007
Large family gatherings weren’t unusual in these parts. In fact, it would be more unusual to spend the holidays alone, and so both the Maclay and Denver families had come together in town to celebrate.
Her father had looked well, more so than the last time she’d seen him, and she’d had to wonder yet again at the veracity of his claims. Five years ago, he’d shown her the paperwork-the doctor’s diagnoses, prescriptions, dates and times of minor surgeries-and she’d believed him. In remission, they’d called it, but with the possibility of relapse. You’d best stay and look after him.
Time had given her a new perspective and she re-examined now those days and weeks following her return home with fresh eyes. Her father hadn’t been in robust health, but he hadn’t been on death’s door, as she’d been led to believe. And if he hadn’t been dying, he’d forced her into this life for nothing.
Too late, now. Her father had made her bed for her, and she had to lie in it.
Tara quite liked Lee’s family. His mother and father were elderly, having waited until late in their lives to have children. They were sweet to her, and she couldn’t begrudge them a thing. Tara didn’t really know his cousins and aunts and uncles, but no one was ever rude to her. No one ever asked her about her time in Sunnydale-the time everyone referred to as ‘before’-and for that she was glad. She didn’t like to talk about it.
Didn’t like to think about it, either, but sometimes late at night the thoughts would come unbidden. Blurry memories of demons and the thrilling terror that came in fighting them; fuzzy recollections of friendly smiles and finally feeling like she had a place to call home; ephemeral remembrances of red-gold hair, warm lips, and soft, feminine curves. These last often sent her hand slip-sliding over her breasts, along her stomach, and down, down, until a soft grunt and snore from Lee in the bed beside her stilled her movements.
But no one ever mentioned Sunnydale, and Tara was able to keep the memories, unclear as they were, to herself. And for that she was infinitely grateful.
***
13th June 2007
“Tara,” Lee said, setting his knife down on the table. “What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing.” She shook her head, eyes wide, wondering how he’d known she was upset. The mask had slipped, and she tried now to force it back into place.
“Come on, Tara,” Lee replied. “You’ve been my wife for four years now. I know when something ain’t right.”
Shaking her head, Tara stared resolutely down at her empty plate. “I’m fine.”
“There is something.” Lee insisted. “I know you.”
The scraping of her chair on the floor as she shoved it backwards sounded overly loud in the room. “You don’t know me!” She stood up, and went to the window. The lake was coloured burnt orange again. Tears filled her eyes, and she said more quietly, “You’ve never known me.”
Tara felt Lee come to stand behind her, his hands tentative when he set them on her shoulders. “Is this about... before? About Wil-”
“Don’t say her name,” Tara said, turning to face him. “Please. If you say her name, I’ll-” Cry. Break down. Wish I’d done things differently. Hate my father even more. “Just don’t say it, okay?”
Lee nodded. He took her by the hand and led her back to the table, where they both sat down again. “You gonna tell me what’s up, then?”
“I don’t understand why you wanted to marry me,” Tara said, not wanting to reveal the cause for her upset just yet.
“Fell in love with you,” Lee replied, and a sad smile creased his face. “It’s an easy thing to do, Tara.”
Smiling crookedly, she plucked at the white tablecloth. “Even knowing it wasn’t my choice? Even after I told you about… about Sunnydale? Even knowing I didn’t-could never-love you the same way?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” Tara said, closing her eyes. “You deserve more.”
Lee shrugged uncomfortably. “I know this ain’t what you wanted, but we’re happy sometimes, right? You don’t hate it here so much?”
“No.” Tara tried to smile. She thought of the beauty of the lake, of Lee’s quiet kindness even when she was being her most difficult. “I don’t hate it.”
“Well, good. My mama’d have my hide if she thought I weren’t treating you right.”
At this, Tara had to grin. The thought of frail old Mrs. Denver having anyone’s hide was laughable.
“Good,” Lee said again. “Now that’s sorted, you want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”
She frowned, thinking he’d forget what had started them on that train of conversation in the first place. Sighing, she raised her eyes to meet his. “I’m l-late. Um, my period, I mean. J-just by a few days, so I don’t know if it means I’m…”
“Pregnant?”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Lee had a slight smile on his face. “Not gonna get excited,” he said. “Not till we know for definite. You go into town tomorrow and see about getting a test.”
Tara nodded, not entirely certain that she wanted to know for sure.
***
14th June 2007
The cashier in the drugstore had given her a knowing smile when handing over her change. Tara had refrained from rolling her eyes until she’d left the store; living in a town where everyone knew who you were had its definite disadvantages.
She wanted to wait until she got home to take the test, but she still wasn’t quite ready to know, so she made her way to the nearest café, ordered a drink, and took a seat near the window to watch the world go by.
It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise, really. Tara had been expecting it for the last five years, but in an abstract way. Hypothetical-something that she’d half-anticipated but never really thought would happen.
Now that it had happened, she dropped her cup, the ceramic mug smashing into pieces and splashing lukewarm tea down her legs.
Willow-for of course it was Willow, looking every bit as beautiful as she had the last time Tara had seen her-stood in the doorway of the café, a stricken expression on her face.
“Tara?” Willow’s voice was barely a whisper. “Oh, Tara.”
Tara stood, her shoes crunching the broken pieces of her mug into the floor. She stared at Willow, taking in her sharper, more angular face. Her hair was longer, but the red no less vibrant.
Tara shook her head and felt her stomach churn. She turned, ran to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet.
***
Whenever Tara looked back on her time in Sunnydale, it felt like a dream. The memories had a blurry, fuzzy quality to them, as though they were not quite real. The often-found presence of demons in the memories made it easy to dismiss them as such. A fairytale life that had happened to another girl.
Willow’s sudden reappearance in her life brought the memories into sharp focus.
Tara remembered now with full clarity what it was to see a vampire turn to dust in front of you, the harsh, metallic tang of freshly spilled blood. The oftentimes cloying smell of The Bronze: sweat and beer and something musty and unidentifiable.
But most of all, she remembered Willow: the first person to ever show her love, and the first person she had ever loved. The only person she had ever loved.
They sat together now on the banks at the edge of the lake. Tara had been right; the setting sun turned the lake almost the exact same colour as Willow’s hair, and she had to fight the sudden urge to reach over and run her hand through the red locks.
After voiding the contents of her stomach into the toilet back at the café, Tara had rinsed her mouth out and taken a deep, shuddering breath. She had gone back into the main room and apologised to Mrs. Owens for breaking the cup. She’d then turned to Willow, who was still standing near the doorway, still with a stricken expression on her face.
Filled with a sudden strength, Tara had gone over to Willow, taken her by the hand, and led her out of the café and through the winding streets that meandered to her home by the lake. They hadn’t spoken-not a single word until they had passed the cabin, and Willow had asked, “Is that where you live?”
Tara had nodded and carried on walking, her hand still in Willow’s, until they’d come to the water’s edge.
“My girlfriend died,” Willow began, eventually. “Two months ago.”
“Oh.” Tara didn’t really know what to say. What could she say? To say I’m sorry would be a lie, a false platitude that she had no business repeating.
“Her name was Kennedy,” Willow said. “She was a Slayer. As you know, death kind of goes with the territory-”
“Does that mean Buffy-?”
“Nope.” Willow paused, and frowned. “Well, yeah. She did. But uh, we kind of brought her back. Me. I did, with magic. She’s fine now. Living in England, with Spike… but back then, it was all kinds of bad. I wish you’d been-” She broke off with a laugh, eyeing the gold ring on Tara’s finger. “Too late, right? You’re married.”
Tara closed her eyes and swallowed past the lump in her throat. She bit her lip, trying to keep the words inside, but they burst from her anyway. “Why didn’t you come after me?”
Willow’s eyes widened. “I did! I mean, I tried to. That letter you sent… you didn’t say where you’d gone, but I tried to do a locator spell. It didn’t work, and I thought you were blocking me. Hiding yourself. I thought you didn’t want to be found. So I left you alone.”
“I did,” Tara whispered. “I wanted to be found. I wanted you to find me. I hoped-I spent so long hoping.”
“I’m sorry,” Willow said. “If I’d known.” She stopped abruptly.
Tara hated how halting their conversation was, how awkward. Back then, before, talking to Willow had been so easy, as natural as breathing.
“Tara,” Willow said. “Tara, I can understand why you didn’t come back to Sunnydale, what with your dad and everything, but why didn’t you keep in touch?” She glanced around. “You have phones out here, right? Sorry, that was rude.”
Tara raised an eyebrow before ducking her head and plucking at the dirt on the ground. “I wasn’t allowed to,” she said. “You have to understand what it was like for me. My dad told me he was sick, really sick. Dying. I had to stay and help… and then I had to marry Lee.”
“Had to?” Willow asked. “Cos I gotta say, I thought you were very clearly a for-the-gals gal.”
“I was. Still am.”
“Then… I don’t understand.” Willow frowned. “Unless-did your dad make you marry Lee? Cos Tara, that’s-that’s not on.”
“He didn’t force me to,” Tara replied. “Not exactly.” She sighed and met Willow’s eyes. “He blackmailed me, I guess. It took me a few years to see it for what it was… but that’s what he did. Emotional blackmail.” Her voice cracked. “You don’t know how it is, with my family.” Shrugging, she looked away again. “It’s not so bad. Lee’s a good man; he’s been a good friend to me.”
“Tara, I wish-”
“Don’t regret my life for me,” Tara replied. “Please.”
“Sorry.”
They fell into silence, the only sounds the familiar noises of night closing in. Tara wondered if Lee was home yet, and what she would say to him when she and Willow went back up to the cabin. She glanced behind her, but there were no lights shining from the windows, no sign of life at all.
Willow was staring out across the lake, and Tara took the chance to look at her. She didn’t look too different: slightly older, a little more worn and tired, but still Willow. Still the girl Tara’d fallen in love with. Tara studied the slight smattering of freckles across Willow’s cheek, the curve of her eyelashes when she blinked. She felt the sudden, irrepressible urge to kiss her.
“What are you thinking?” Willow said suddenly, turning to look at Tara.
“Um.” Tara looked down. “N-nothing.”
“Oh. It’s just... you had that look in your eyes. The look that always said-”
“I want to kiss you.”
Willow grinned. “Yeah. That.”
Tara swallowed and watched as the smile slid from Willow’s face. Her expression became sombre, and the atmosphere was suddenly heavy and loaded with anticipation.
They moved cautiously, as though neither one were sure of what they were doing. A moment before their lips pressed together, Tara thought she saw tears shining in Willow’s eyes. She knew that there were tears in her own eyes.
The kiss was at once familiar and oh-so-strange. After so many years of being kissed by Lee, with his strong jaw and stubbled chin, this soft kiss from Willow felt odd, but most welcome.
Willow kissed her like a woman starved: from gentle, yielding touches of her lips to hard pushes that felt almost bruising. Tara allowed herself to be pushed to the ground and, with Willow’s slight weight on top of hers, she almost felt like her old self again.
Willow broke away to rest her forehead on Tara’s. “I missed you,” she said plaintively.
“I missed you,” Tara echoed, her voice no louder than a whisper.
“Can’t believe,” Willow started in between kisses, “I found you. I finally found you.”
“You-you found me.” Tara agreed, arching her neck when Willow kissed the sensitive skin behind her ear.
***
The chill of the night eventually forced them inside, Tara frowning a little when she saw that the lights in the cabin were still dim.
She clicked on the kitchen light, blinking into the sudden brightness. The room suddenly felt too small; Willow stood awkwardly in the doorway, her hair mussed and lips swollen from kisses.
“Um, sit down,” Tara said, and moved towards the stove. “I’ll make tea.”
Willow nodded jerkily and sat at the kitchen table. Tara set to making the tea, boiling the kettle and preparing the mugs. A crinkling sound drew her attention, and she turned to find Willow picking up a piece of notepaper from the table.
“It’s a note,” Willow said, when she saw Tara looking. “For you.”
Tara took the paper, quickly scanned the few words written on it, and felt a shudder of guilt wash over her and settle deep in the pit of her stomach.
Tara,
Came home, but I see you’re busy. I’m heading over to Jim’s for the night - back tomorrow. Have a nice evening.
-Lee
The words were simple, but she could hear the accusation behind them. She put the note down and picked up a spoon, to heap sugar into the mugs. The silverware clattered against the sides of the cup, and she looked at her hands curiously. They were shaking.
When Willow’s warm palm closed over her hand, Tara closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink backwards into the other woman’s embrace. “What are we doing?” she whispered.
“Living,” Willow replied, drawing Tara’s long hair behind her shoulder.
“Your girlfriend just died. I’m married.” Tara gasped when Willow touched her lips to her neck. “We shouldn’t…”
“Don’t think about it.” Willow cajoled. “Just… just let yourself feel.”
***
After, they lay in the bed Tara shared with Lee, their limbs tangled together, and the taste of each other staining their lips.
Turning her head away from Willow, Tara buried her face in the pillow and felt hot tears well up in her eyes. The pillow smelled of Lee.
“You’re regretting it,” Willow said. “This.”
Tara took a deep breath and turned back to face Willow. “You always did know what I was thinking,” she said. The silence lay heavy on the room. “I’m sorry.”
“I understand,” Willow replied, but her voice was flat. She sat up, clutched the sheet to her chest and looked around for her clothes. “I should go.”
Tara made no move to stop her, though she knew that they should talk about what had just happened, work out what they should do next.
“Here,” Willow said a few moments later. She took a notepad and pen from her bag and tore off a sheet. “My number. If you want to talk. Or…”
Sitting up, Tara drew the bedcovers around her body and moved to stand in front of Willow. She took the other woman’s hands between her own, noting how cold the skin was, how tense she felt. “If things were different,” Tara said. “You’re not over Kennedy-” She shook her head when Willow opened her mouth to protest. “You’re not. And as much as I wish I weren’t, I’m married.”
“I love you.” Willow whispered.
Tara smiled crookedly. “I love you, too.” They were just words, four simple words, but the shape of them felt strange in her mouth. She’d never said I love you to Lee; she’d never needed to. He’d never demanded it of her. Saying it now to Willow, Tara felt the dam break, the flood of tears she’d been holding back since they’d made love rising to the surface and overflowing.
She clutched Willow’s shoulders, her grip so tight she knew it would bruise. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Willow’s arms came around her body, at first rough as they slid to the floor together, then gentle as they tried to calm her.
“I’m sorry.” Tara sobbed, the words wrenched from between gasping breaths. She apologised for the kisses, for the touches they’d shared. For making love to Willow when the woman was half-broken and when she herself was committed to another. For marrying Lee. For believing her father’s lies. For leaving Sunnydale. “Forgive me, please.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Willow said quietly, her lips ghosting over the silky sheen of Tara’s hair. “Nothing to forgive.”
***
27th June 2007
The days following Willow’s visit had passed in a blur.
Lee had come home the next day, his expression wary and his posture jumpy, as though he hadn’t expected to find her alone. Tara had eradicated all trace that Willow had ever been in the cabin; fresh sheets were on the bed, and the extra mug was washed up and put away.
It was pointless; Lee knew what had happened. He could read it in her face, and Tara didn’t try to hide it. But he didn’t mention it, and she didn’t either, and their lives went on.
She’d got her period two days later, before she’d had a chance to take the test, and the sight of the blood in her panties had brought tears to her eyes. Not pregnant. No baby. She hadn’t known whether to be relieved or sad.
A tiny part of her had thrilled with happiness, a voiceless whisper in her ear that she no longer had to worry about being tied to Lee. That she could leave, go to Willow. Start her life again.
She’d pushed the thought away and left the bathroom, wondering how to tell Lee that she wasn’t pregnant.
***
25th September 2007
“You’re not happy,” Lee said suddenly. He scrubbed a hand over the rough stubble on his chin and looked at her with weary eyes. “Go. Just go.”
“Lee-”
“I’ll sort things with your dad. Go, all right?”
Tara looked at him for several moments before standing. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
***
27th September 2007
“Willow? Hi. It’s me. Could we meet? Yes. No. I-Next week, okay. I’ll-I’ll be there.”
***
5th October 2007
Had it only been a year since she’d sat on the banks of the lake and thought of Willow? It seemed longer.
The sky looked the same shade of red, even here on the other side of the country. Tara pulled her car to a stop and stared at the road ahead. It came to an abrupt end, a yellow warning sign telling her to be cautious, keep back: danger ahead!
She slammed the car door, and the sound echoed around the empty landscape. A barbed wire fence ringed the perimeter of the crater, but it looked so flimsy that anyone with half a mind to climb over it would be able to.
Scrubby desert weeds pushed through what remained of the tarmac road, a thin layer of sand covered everything, and there, standing at the edge of the crater was Willow.
She was facing away from Tara, her arms hanging at her sides and her head bent.
Slow, cautious steps took Tara closer and closer to the place she had once called home, now no more than a deep crater filled with intermittent shallow pools of water. She didn’t know what had happened here; when Willow had visited in June they hadn’t spoken properly of the past. It didn’t matter now; there was only the present and the future.
She came to a stop by Willow’s side, and though the redhead’s gaze didn’t waver from the empty crater, she knew Tara was there.
“It’s funny,” Willow said, breaking the silence a few moments later. “I never thought I’d come back here. When it happened, we-Buffy and Xander and me-we all said we wouldn’t ever be back. Too many bad memories. Now though… I’m remembering the good, too.”
“Sometimes you have to go back to where it started,” Tara said. She edged a little closer to Willow and grasped the other woman’s hand. “We can’t change the past, not now, but we can look to the future.”
“Together?”
Tara squeezed Willow’s hand and allowed herself to smile. Behind them, the sun burned the sky a deep red. “Together.”
-END-