Author Notes: See Part 1.
Feedback: Even more sure! Bring it on!
Though Hollywood and television would have us believe otherwise, there aren't really that many distinct, life-altering moments for most people. Changes, losses, realizations…They usually take shape gradually. Paintings don't leap onto the canvas as finished products, and our truths usually don't present themselves as such in discrete, self-contained moments in time.
Usually.
For Tara, this was an exception. Before that moment, she was Tara Maclay, daughter of Nathan and Julia Maclay. And then, in an instant, she became someone else.
And yet, when she would look back later, she would swear that there had been some tiny part of her that said: I knew it. She would have no idea where or when she had first thought it, but the fact that she had room for some emotion besides shock meant something, she suspected.
As Nathan Maclay's four syllables sounded in her mind, all of the air seemed to leave the room and Tara struggled to draw a breath. She felt Willow's hand come to rest on her back, and she suddenly believed utterly that without that hand, she would fall backwards and keep falling-to the floor, and then below it, never able to stop herself or the spiral.
Silence ruled unchallenged for several moments while Tara haltingly began to build a new life story. Finally, she spoke, and her voice seemed not her own.
"What…what are you s-saying? Daddy, what are you t-telling me?" She heard the term of paternal address slip out before she could catch herself, and she wondered if she would ever say it again.
Nathan Maclay looked up at her, his face still ashen; his eyes hollow. "I said, you never were…my little girl." His voice was barely a whisper. Even as he gazed at her, Tara suspected that he was seeing her mother.
"I don't understand, Daddy." Apparently she was still speaking with yesterday's tongue. "I don't know what y-you're talking about."
Nathan Maclay sighed heavily, and turned to look out the window. Without looking back at her, he replied, "I'm not your father. I raised you, but I'm not your father."
This isn't happening. This cannot be happening. I can't lose both my parents.
More to himself than to Tara, it seemed, he muttered, "Doesn't make any sense to keep the secret anymore. Everything's already broken…" He finally turned and met Tara's eyes again. "Your mother? The one you thought was so perfect? She cheated on me, Tara. Had an affair while I was out working my fingers to the bone trying to keep our heads above water. He's your father."
Tara felt as if she were watching a glass filled with water slam against a sidewalk. The rivulets ran everywhere, each one a repercussion or implication or question from this revelation.
"Then who?" she finally managed to whisper.
But her father just smiled an ancient, bitter smile and turned back to the window, shaking his head as he watched the old movie playing in his mind.
Don't you turn your back on me, damn you!
"I said, who is my father?" she demanded, more forcefully this time.
After a moment, her father began to speak, though he still didn't look at her. "You couldn't believe it was me, could you? In that letter, the way I sounded? I was so in love with her…" His voice trailed off, and Tara knew that he was seeing her mother again.
"Julia Benedict…She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen…From the moment I saw her, I knew that I would marry her. I've never given another woman a passing thought from the moment I laid eyes on her." For an instant, his eyes seemed to shine; or perhaps it was just the sun, catching his face just so.
"I courted her every way I knew how, which probably wasn't much. I wasn't as handsome as a lot of the boys who tried to catch her eye, and I wasn't any genius or smooth talker. I didn't have that much going for me, except for being hard-working, and sincere…and persistent. Oh, I was certainly persistent." He gave a short, dry laugh.
For her part, Tara couldn't speak and wasn't sure how she managed to breathe. She wondered absently if the group in the kitchen could hear any of this, and this made her remember Beth. She offered up a quick prayer that her cousin wouldn't return home soon.
"She agreed to go to the movies with me, and after that I just kept showing up at her house, with flowers for her, flowers for her mother…I had said I was going to marry that girl, and finally I did. That day was the happiest day of my life." And this time Tara knew that his eyes were glistening. "I would swear on everything holy that there has never been a more beautiful woman than your mother that day."
Tara's mind darted back to pictures she had seen of their wedding day. Her mother, it was true, had been so beautiful that Tara had found it difficult to believe that she herself came from such a woman.
She wanted desperately to know who her father was, and yet she suspected that this legacy and that of her father's demon aspect were closely intertwined. "And the demon?" she managed to ask. "You didn't tell her about it?"
Still he refused to look at her. "No. I wasn't going to do anything to risk losing her. I thought about it-every day, I thought about it. But…but I never did."
"So you wouldn't risk her leaving you, but you would risk her life, if the demon ever over-came you," Tara said flatly.
Now he swung around sharply, his face white with anger. "You judge me? Without knowing what happened? And if I recall correctly, you hadn't told her," he nodded harshly toward Willow, "about your little secret either."
Tara sank back into the sofa. He's right. I did exactly what he did, for the same reason. I called it love. She felt Willow's hand stroking her arm, and then heard her speak softly, as if Nathan weren't even in the room.
"Baby, don't do this to yourself. You were scared, but you did the right thing. You kept it a secret for a few hours; he kept it for decades."
Tara tried to let the warmth of Willow's presence sink into her, but the entire scene was so surreal as to preclude such things as comfort. Finally, she lifted her eyes to his again. "You didn't just keep the truth from her, you actually told her the demon was in her. How could you? How could you hurt someone you loved so much?"
His anger had seemingly disappeared, replaced now by a dull, haunted gaze. "Because I knew I was losing her. Part of me had never really believed she was mine in the first place, and it wasn't long after we got married that I could feel her slipping away from me." He ran a weather-beaten hand through his thick, dark hair.
I wonder if my father's hair is blond, like Mom's?
His voice was weary, and soaked with anguish. "Do you know what it's like to have the person you love more than anything in the world just get farther and farther away from you? It wasn't sudden; she wasn't mean or cruel. She just seemed a little less…there, with me. When I woke up in the morning, it was like she had crept just a little bit farther away while I slept; and in the evening, when we went to bed, there was just a little bit less of her there beside me. I tried everything I could think of to keep her with me…I thought that having children would help."
Tara remembered a conversation with her mother years ago. "What about the miscarriage? What happened?"
Nathan nodded. "So she told you about that? I might have guessed. She was a lot closer to you after you came along than she was to me…" His voice trailed off bitterly. After a moment, he sighed deeply, and his breath seemed to catch in his throat.
"I was so excited when Julia told me she was expecting. The idea of raising a child, with her…I thought I was going to bust a seam, just thinking about it. And she did seem closer to me; she talked to me more, we made plans for the baby…She was absolutely certain it was a boy. Said she just knew, and I didn't doubt it." A glimmer of a smile passed over his face, and then faded.
"Didn't you think you should tell her the truth then? If you were going to be a father, weren't you worried about the demon aspect coming out?" Tara was incredulous at his deceit, even as she had some understanding of what prompted it.
Nathan was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice held no trace of defensiveness, no effort to persuade her of his innocence. "I knew we would have to keep a close eye on the boy, to see if there were any sign of demon coming out. At the same time, I was afraid that if I told her the truth then, she would definitely leave me, to keep the baby safe. I knew I couldn't convince her that I wouldn't hurt the child, or her. I just knew it. So I told her the demon was in her. I figured that way she wouldn't leave me because she would want me to keep them both safe."
"But how? How did you do it?" Tara had so many questions, and she couldn't imagine ever having them all answered.
Nathan gave a brittle laugh. "You know, I'm not even sure. It wasn't like I set up some fancy spell or anything. I didn't even know any magic…That was your mother's specialty, as I found out shortly before we married. All I can remember is thinking that I had to do this, that there was no choice, and that I'd better get it right the first time…except I didn't even know exactly what 'it' was. I just started talking, and the more I talked, the more I believed it myself. I felt this-heat, or burning, in my heart, and it kept getting worse. But when I finished talking, and I saw your mother crying…I knew it had worked, and the pain stopped. From that moment on, she believed that she carried demon in her, and that it would be passed on to her daughters. I wanted her to believe that it was just through the female line, so she wouldn't even think of a male possessing any demon. I figured the boy would be with me more and more as he got older, and I could watch him as I needed to." He passed a hand over his eyes, exhaustion seeming to roll off of him in waves.
"What happened? To the baby?" Tara was afraid to hear the answer.
"You think I did something, don't you? You think I hurt him?" Nathan's voice quavered for the only time that Tara could remember. "I loved that little boy more than I have words to tell you. He was my greatest hope. Yes, I was worried about watching out for the demon; but I knew he'd be at least half your mother, hopefully more. And that would make him almost perfect, I figured."
Tara felt tears stinging her own eyes at his words. Goddess, he had so much love in him, and so much fear. I'm surprised he didn't just break apart with it all.
"It was late August…We'd been in a near drought for the better part of the summer; we needed rain bad, and one night we got it. A storm blew up; probably the worst this area had seen in a long time. The wind was awful, and the rain started coming down in sheets. Once you stepped outside, you were soaked to the bone in a few seconds. I had just finished the milking and come back to the house. Your mother had made beef stew; I could smell it as soon as I walked in the house." Again, the sad smile slid across his face, only to disappear as he spoke.
"I was just about to take off my boots when I heard a banging coming from the direction of the barn. When I stepped out onto the porch to see what it was, I saw the big barn door on the south end slamming back against the barn. Somehow it had blown open, and I knew I had to go down and shut it back up. The storm would frighten the horses and the calves, and I couldn't risk them hurting themselves trying to get out of their stalls. So I pulled my jacket back on and told your mother where I was going. I hoped it would only take a few minutes, but the door was so heavy, and the wind made it damn near impossible to shut it. I almost had it a couple of times, but then the wind would rip it right out of my hands and I'd have to start all over again. The next thing I knew, your mother was standing beside me, tugging on the door. I-I told her to go back to the house; I told her I could get it. But she said-" Nathan stopped, and swallowed heavily. "She said she didn't want our son thinking she was some kind of princess that wouldn't get her hands dirty to help his father. She wouldn't leave, no matter what I said. She just kept tugging, right there beside me. Finally I gave up trying to convince her and between the two of us we managed to get the barn door shut and bolted. She was breathing heavy, but I could see her grinning at me in the rain and for the first time in a long time, I could feel her love for me. We got back to the house and changed out of our wet clothes and ate the best supper I've ever had. We went to bed laughing about how Vaughn Nathan Maclay had just done his first piece of farm work, and how we'd have to include that in his first allowance." Nathan fell silent, and looked back out the window.
"The next day your mother started spotting. She tried to say it was nothing, but I got her into the truck and went to the doctor that afternoon. We lost him the day after that." His voice was flat now.
Tara didn't bother to fight the tears that were washing over her cheeks in streams. They both lost so much-the baby, each other…
Nathan resumed his narrative, still in the same dead voice. "After that, things changed. Your mother started getting more distant with me; nothing I did could keep her close. I don't know if she blamed me-I tried to get her to go back to the house, I did; but maybe I should have just left the door and hoped for the best. Maybe I should have physically made her go back to the house, but that never even crossed my mind. I don't know…Maybe she thought I blamed her, although I tried to be as kind and gentle as I knew how. I told her we'd have other children; told her I loved her whether we did or not. And she tried to be normal with me, but I knew her heart was slipping away again. You don't know what it's like to love someone so much and know that she's leaving you even while she's standing right in front of you."
He stared off into the distance. Tara struggled to find her voice. "I'm so sorry," she finally whispered. Her father looked at her in mild surprise; he didn't seem to know how to respond to her kindness.
After a moment, Tara asked softly, "What about Donnie?" At the name, Nathan's baleful countenance returned.
"I said your mother grew more distant; she didn't actually leave me, not physically. She still believed she had demon in her, and I-I think she really didn't want to hurt me." This last part was said so quietly that Tara had to strain to hear him.
"Your mother found out she was pregnant with Donnie in February of 1978," Nathan continued, confirming the timeline that she, Willow, and Giles had deduced yesterday. "I decided to write her the letter in case anything happened to me, or if I died before her. I loved her so much…If I died before she did, I wanted her to know the truth. I just-I didn't want her to know when I was still alive, because then…"
"She might leave you," Tara finished.
"No; I'm sure she would have left me. Finding out that I had lied to her-there's no way she would have stayed with me." He looked at her, his gaze at once helpless and defiant. "So I didn't tell her. Donnie was born that October. I had hoped it would bring us closer again, but this time was different…Throughout the pregnancy, even at the birth-she never seemed nearly as excited. She was sick a lot, and she had never had morning sickness the first time. She was tired, too, and we didn't really discuss names until a month before he was born. When Donnie came, she got all depressed for the first couple of months; I didn't think she was ever coming out of it. She just kept slipping further and further away from me; Donnie didn't change that at all."
Tara felt a wave of nausea wash over her, thinking about her brother. Half-brother, she corrected herself. "Does Donnie have demon in him?" she asked, knowing that either answer would hurt.
Nathan's laugh was harsh. "I suspect you'd be in a better position to know that than I am," he said simply.
Tara stared at him. "You know what he did? You know how he hurt me?" Any vestige of sympathy she felt for her father was quickly being eclipsed by rage at this new insinuation.
"I didn't know for sure," Nathan replied, and his tone suggested that he wasn't just hedging. "I certainly came down hard on him, a great deal. I was worried sick that he might have demon in him. He always seemed so angry and bitter, even when he was young. I had hoped that by instilling…discipline in him, I might keep it from emerging."
"Spare the rod, spoil the demon," Willow murmured softly.
Nathan glared at her. "What do you know about any of this? About my family? How dare you judge me. You're lucky I haven't thrown you out of this house."
"You won't do that," Tara interjected flatly. "I won't let you." Nathan and Willow both stared at her incredulously. "No more threats; no more violence. She stays." So saying, she entwined Willow's fingers in her own. In her own mind, Tara was beyond being shocked at anything that might transpire this afternoon. She had come out to her father, who-as it turned out-wasn't. Defending Willow, always a natural reaction for her, came so easily as to be unnoticeable to her own observation.
Nathan gave her his coldest stare, but Tara was unmoved. Finally, he relented, slightly. "I truly believed it would keep the demon in check," he muttered. "Donnie was always so ready to blow up; he had so much violence in him. I thought it was the demon."
"Or it could have been the result of being beaten and suspected from an early age." Tara's voice held curiously little judgment; she was simply stating a possibility.
"Do you think I wanted to do that? Be so hard on my own son? I wanted to play with him, teach him things, just like the father I had planned to be with Vaughn. But Donnie's temper showed up early…"
"His temper-not his complete soul, and not necessarily a demon aspect. You couldn't know that, any more than you could know that Vaughn would have been different." Tara found herself feeling oddly protective of Donnie, at least as she watched his history unfold. Nathan sat without speaking.
"And then you suspected him of beating on me, and you didn't step in," Tara continued, her voice shaking.
"I said I wasn't sure. I never saw anything."
"You didn't want to see anything," Tara cut him off. "I didn't have anything to do with whatever happened between you and Mom, but you were willing to stand aside and let him do whatever he might be doing."
"Didn't have anything to do with it?" Nathan echoed. "You were it! You represented it all!"
"Through no fault of her own!" Willow broke in. "She was an innocent!"
"There's no such thing," Nathan declared flatly.
As Tara looked helplessly at Willow, who gazed at her with a fierce protectiveness that finally penetrated some of the surrealism of the moment, she heard the kitchen door slam. Nathan's head snapped up, his mouth tightening.
"If that's Donald-" he began in an ominous voice.
"What are you doing here?" It was Beth's voice, indignant and shrill. She had obviously discovered unwanted city folks in her kitchen.
Not quite feeling her legs, Tara rose and walked unsteadily into the kitchen, Willow immediately behind her. Nathan remained seated. "They're here with me, Beth." Tara's voice sounded strange to her own ears.
Now it was Beth's turn to look surprised, and more than a little nonplussed. "What do you mean?" Her eyes narrowed. "Are you coming back?" The resentment in her voice was obvious, and profound.
From the corner of the kitchen, Dawn spoke up. "Actually, we're all coming to live here. We hear you make a mean apple strudel." Buffy's elbow to her ribs seemed to lack its usual vigor, as confusion washed over Beth's face.
Do they know? What did they hear? She had to find out before anything went any further. "Um, guys-could you hear anything that we were talking about?" The group was silent, and then Giles spoke, his voice soft and apologetic. "Yes, Tara. We could hear. We probably should have left the house completely, for your privacy, but we also didn't want to risk being too far from you if you needed us." His eyes held a very old kindness, it seemed to Tara.
She shook her head without really thinking. "No, it's OK. I would have told you anyway." She looked back over her shoulder. Nathan apparently had still not left his chair.
"What are all of these people doing here, Tara? What's this all about?" Beth's indignant tone brought her back to the scene in front of her.
"Don't you know?" Willow asked, anger rippling through her own voice. "You seem to have installed yourself pretty conveniently into the household. I'm surprised you don't have all the inside scoop."
Beth turned to Willow, fixing her with a malevolent glare. "Who do you think you are, coming in here and talking to me like that? You think I don't know what kind of person you are?" She sniffed as if detecting sour milk.
Willow tilted her head in mock consideration. "Jewish? Red-headed? Stunningly intelligent yet modest? Oh, wait-big ol' honking lesbian?"
Beth took an automatic step backwards, as if the orientation might be contagious. "I-I was talking about you being a witch." Willow gave Tara a weak, apologetic grin.
OK, I guess I'm out to Cousin Beth now, too. But Tara couldn't really summon the energy to be upset with Willow. That little revelation was hardly going to be the lead story of this whole newscast.
Beth had pulled herself up with righteous disdain. "Although things certainly make more sense now," she continued, looking at Tara with new and greater condemnation.
"Beth, you know that Donnie was trying to get me to come back home. You called me to say you understood that I wanted to stay at school. There's no need for us to be enemies," Tara said placatingly. Then she noticed Beth's anxious glance into the living room.
"Tara, let's not talk about what's gone on between us, alright? I just want to know what's happening right now."
"Donnie showed me a lock box, and it had some information in it that I needed to…confirm," Tara replied. "My friends came with me-Willow came with me-to support me. They knew it wouldn't be the easiest time in the world." And I'd give a big cheer for understatement except that that would be an oxymoron, I think.
Beth looked around at all of them, confusion settling across her features. Finally, she seemed to reach some decision. Pushing past them, she made her way into the living room, where Nathan still sat, seemingly oblivious to the upheaval twenty feet away.
"Uncle Nathan, are you alright? Are these people upsetting you?" Her voice was solicitous, and Tara, following closely behind her, realized that it wasn't an act.
"Yes, Beth. Thank you. I-I think it would be best if you gave us a little time to talk privately." Nathan Maclay's voice sounded distant and rote.
Tara actually felt feeling sorry for Beth when she saw the hurt flash across her cousin's face.
"Are you sure? With-with all these strangers in the house?" she faltered.
"Yes, of course. Why don't you just go on up to Tara's room for now? I'll call you in a little bit." His tone suggested that he had already forgotten her presence.
Tara had also seen Beth's reaction when her father-when Nathan-had referred to "Tara's room." You want this to be your home so bad, don't you Beth? The grass is always greener… She turned to see Willow standing beside her. The others had remained in the kitchen. Hope they're making themselves at home. This could be a while.
She returned to the couch, Willow by her side. It was time, she knew.
"I need to know who my father is," she said simply.
Nathan turned to look at her, his gaze unreadable. "You really don't know, do you?"
Tara decided that such a question deserved no answer. She just waited.
He stared at her for a long moment, before finally speaking. "Your mother-she seemed to have so much…life in her, so much energy. She was always wanting to go out, see people, go into the city. I didn't have the time for such things; there was always so much work to be done. And besides, it wasn't really my idea of a good time. I liked the evenings when it was just the two of us, in our home. But Julia-she wanted to go out to eat, go dancing, go to the movies. It was just one of the things that seemed to come between us." His distant expression brought a small tightening to Tara's throat; she wasn't sure why.
"I noticed that she would spend more and more time away from the house-going to the store two and three times a week; going into town for any reason she could think of. And she always took Donnie. I didn't want to say anything about it; I thought maybe it would make her happy, getting out more. But she kept pulling away from me...She never said anything to me directly; it was just her manner, and the look in her eyes." Again he turned to stare out the window; Tara wondered what he saw there.
"Then I started noticing how she was acting different. It wasn't just what she was doing...She was starting to dress a little differently, even around the house. She seemed nervous, too, and I don't think she'd been anxious a day in her life. It was like she'd started drinking or something, the way she changed. It was even harder to reach her than before. I asked her if I could do something; I even suggested we go away on a trip, even though it was fall and there was so much to do on the farm. I was getting desperate. I didn't think she'd leave me, not with Donnie, and…and thinking she had demon in her. But it was getting to be like living with a stranger-this beautiful stranger that I was in love with but who barely even noticed me. But she said no, that she didn't want to go on a trip. And that should have told me, I guess. She finally had something here that she didn't want to leave." Nathan's smile was twisted and bitter.
"I can't remember the first time the thought actually crossed my mind that she was seeing someone. But once the idea came, it never left. I wanted to follow her, when she went into town, but we only had the one vehicle. Besides, Cold Springs is so small that I couldn't imagine her meeting someone without everybody in the town knowing it inside of five minutes. Still, though, I thought something was up. I decided to call Joe Buckner, up the road, and asked if I could borrow his second car for a few days. I had loaned him a tractor and wagon more than once, and he was glad to help out. I told him the truck was acting up. When he dropped it off the next day, I told Julia that he'd asked me to look at it. I was always good with machinery. She didn't bat an eye; seems like she was barely noticing me those days anyway. The next morning, she mentioned she was going into town. I waited about five minutes and then headed out after her. She had Donnie with her." He paused, tilting his head slightly to one side as he remembered.
"I was afraid that I might not be able to find her once I reached town. Cold Springs is little, but there was no guarantee I'd see her. Turns out I didn't even need to go into town."
Tara could hear her heart pounding loudly in her chest, its tempo increasing, it seemed, with every passing sentence. She wondered absently if there were some upper threshold that she was in danger of crossing. All she knew for sure was that she couldn't imagine what her life would look like in a matter of moments.
"I had driven about five miles when I saw the truck parked a ways back on a little side road that led back to the old Huntley place. If I hadn't glanced over to that side of the road, I'd never have seen it. Nobody had lived there for about ten years; it was all grown over with weeds and the same old 'For Sale' sign. I guess I knew then that I was right. Why else would she be there? All I needed to know now was who the son of a bitch was." He fell silent, and kept his silence for so long that Tara thought she might scream. Finally he nodded, as if confirming some inner truth, and spoke once more.
"I turned around and drove back; I parked the car on the other side of the road and killed the engine. I headed up the lane, all the time hoping I was wrong and knowing I was right. The lane was about fifty yards long…I didn't think I'd ever reach the house. I can still remember every bush and plant and tree I saw on that walk. I finally got to the porch, trying to be quiet. I didn't really need to be, though. They were making enough noise that they sure weren't going to hear me. I could hear her voice, clear as a bell. And then I heard his voice." Nathan looked over at Tara, as if registering her presence anew.
"You're wondering if I recognized it, aren't you?" he asked quietly.
Unable to speak, Tara only nodded.
Nathan stared at her.
"Of course I did. I should have-I'd known him since the day he was born."
Oh, no…Oh, sweet goddess, no-not this…
Nathan met her desperate gaze with his own dead eyes. "Turns out my brother had more to offer my wife than I did."
*****
Part 12
"Mama, are Aunt Margaret and Uncle Quinn coming over for Christmas? I want to see what Beth gets from Santa. Are they, Mama? Mama, are you listening?"
"No, Bright Eyes; they're not coming over this year. We're going to celebrate with just the four of us."
"We hardly ever see them, Mama, and they don't live far away, like some people's families."
"Well, sometimes it's nice to have just us, don't you think?"
~~~
"Beth was crying at school today, Mama. I heard her tell Jenny Baxter at recess that her mom and dad are fighting all the time. I never hear you and Daddy fight."
"Well…Your daddy and I try to be nice to each other, Bright Eyes. I wouldn't want you crying at recess."
"But you and Daddy love each other, right? Right, Mama?"
"Of course we do, Honey."
~~~
She was supposed to be asleep, but she was thirsty. So she slipped out of bed and padded along the hallway until she reached the top of the stairs. She hoped her daddy wasn't alone in the kitchen. He'd either scold her for being up or just look at her funny, the way he did sometimes when her mama wasn't around.
Three hesitant steps down the stairs, she heard both of her parents in the kitchen. She fidgeted indecisively for a moment, and then sat down on the steps, her blue flannel nightshirt edging up over her knees. She frowned, absently rubbing a bruise on her arm as she heard her parents talk quietly.
"Does anybody know where he went?" Her mama's voice.
"No," her daddy answered. "I just heard from Jack McAllister down at the Feed and Grain that he's been gone for a couple of days. Apparently he never said a word to anybody."
Who were they talking about?
After a minute, her mama spoke up again. Why did her voice sound so little, and cold?
"Well, maybe that's for the best."
"You really think so?" Her daddy sounded funny, too-like he was keeping his mouth even tighter than usual.
"Yes. Maybe he'll go away and-and pull himself together. Stop drinking. Maybe then he can come back and Margaret and him can work things out."
Her daddy didn't say anything for a minute, and then he finally answered, "Maybe you're right. That would be nice, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, it would. Heaven knows Beth could use two solid parents."
Uncle Quinn? He had left home? Left Aunt Margaret and Cousin Beth by themselves?
"Do you want any dessert while you watch the news, Nathan?"
"No thank you. Are you going to watch?"
"No, I think I'm going to head on up to bed."
She didn't really feel that thirsty anymore. Usually she would have waited for her mama to start up the stairs and asked her for another goodnight kiss, but for some reason she thought maybe she should just head back to bed.
~~~
Wrapping her arms around her in a deliberate attempt to stop trembling, Tara looked at the man she had called "father" for twenty years. He seemed to shimmer; and then she realized that her vision was tilting. She thought for a moment that she might faint, and then she rested her head in her hands, briefly, as Willow rubbed her back in small circles. After a moment, she trusted herself to look at Nathan once more.
"You're saying-you're saying that Uncle Quinn is my father? My biological father?" Her voice seemed to come from someplace far away.
Nathan stared at her, his expression unreadable. "Yes. My wife had an affair with my brother. Sounds like something from an afternoon talk show, doesn't it?" His laugh was humorless.
"I-I can't believe this is happening. I feel like I'm watching somebody else, in a movie." Mama? How could you do this? And how could you keep this a secret from me-my own father?
"Well, it's real, and it's true. I know you always thought your mother was perfect, but she wasn't. I certainly found that out the hard way."
"Mama had an affair…"
"And she took her infant son along with her. Doesn't exactly qualify her as 'Mother of the Year,' does it?"
Tara's head sank once more. She tried to focus on Willow, near and strong and loving. How could I bear this without you?
"Oh goddess, Mama…"
*****
Beth wasn't going to sit passively in Tara's room, and even if she had been inclined to wait, she wouldn't have called it "Tara's room." She paced quietly along the upstairs hallway for a few minutes, before letting herself into her Uncle Nathan's room, where she made a quick phone call. Then she grew impatient once more.
She was good at hiding; good at keeping herself invisible even to folks who could have seen her if they'd looked at all closely. It was easy, really, to edge herself noiselessly down a few steps until she could just make out the voices in the living room-one low and flat; the other soft and incredulous.
*****
"Daddy-I mean…" Tara paused, trying to find words that wouldn't sound ludicrous within her own mind. "I-I don't know what to say."
"Neither did I." Nathan Maclay was now gazing at her almost relentlessly, as if he were searching for something that only she could reveal, and he no longer had to conceal his search.
"What…what did Mama say when you confronted her about it?" She swallowed, a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth as she imagined harsh words; bitter recriminations; threats, and pleas for forgiveness.
"I never did."
Tara looked up sharply. Surely she had heard him wrong…
"I stepped back off of the porch, and I walked back to the car. I drove home and sprayed the corn, and then I started the milking. I saw your mother driving up to the house about an hour after I got back." His eyes, in the fading afternoon sunlight, looked almost black.
"You mean-you never told her you knew?"
"No. She may have suspected, or wondered, because I'm sure I seemed quite strange to her for the first two or three weeks after that. But I never said anything. I never let on that I had heard her rutting in an abandoned house with my brother while our son slept nearby."
Tara felt her stomach surge dangerously for a moment. Fighting past the bile, she managed, "Why? Why in God's name wouldn't you tell her?"
"Don't use that phrase," Nathan countered promptly. "You don't know the first thing about God's name." But his voice held no fire.
"I'm sorry, sir," Tara found herself replying automatically. And then she stopped herself. What did she owe this man? Whether he was her father or not? Shaking her head quickly, she continued, "Why didn't you tell her?"
Nathan's expression suggested that he didn't understand her question. "Because she hadn't said she was going to leave me. I didn't think she would. I thought that if I told her I knew, she might feel like she had to leave."
"And you still wanted to be with her? You didn't think at all about leaving yourself?" Tara was incredulous.
Nathan looked at her quizzically. "We don't get a choice in who we love, Tara. Your mother tore me apart like a tornado blowing through a haystack, but I still loved her. I still wanted to fall asleep next to her, and wake up next to her." He spoke slowly, as if uncertain of her ability to comprehend his words.
*****
Beth heard the clock on the mantle downstairs chime five o'clock. Probably about half an hour now, though she couldn't for the life of her imagine why she would think of such a thing. About half an hour since she learned who her father had really loved; and why he had left. About half an hour since she learned that Tara hadn't been satisfied with her own family; she had taken Beth's, too.
*****
"But what about Uncle-about Uncle Quinn?' I barely remember you; I'm not about to call you "Dad."
Nathan caught her hesitation, and smiled bitterly.
"Well, I wasn't about to let her sleep with him again. That night, I sat her down and told her how much I loved her, but how afraid I was for her. About the demon, I mean. I told her I'd noticed some changes in her, and that it scared me. I said I'd stand by her through anything; no matter what evil things she might want to do, or who she might hurt with that sinfulness. I told her it wasn't her fault that she had evil thoughts. 'God looks into our hearts, and knows what's there,' I said. 'What's important is that we ask for forgiveness, particularly if we know that we're especially likely to fall victim to temptation and sin.' I did a pretty fair impersonation of Reverend Timson, if I do say so myself." He nodded proudly as if to himself. "And I would bet this farm that they never did that again."
"But when you found out Mama was pregnant…" Tara could barely bring herself to ask further about this time that she knew she needed to understand. Willow, my love...Could you have imagined this when we left this morning? Was it just this morning? You're my family now, Beloved.
"Oh, I knew it was his. Your mother and I hadn't been together as husband and wife for probably a month and a half before I found them. And it was another month after that before we were again. But she had already stopped making her little afternoon trips, and she at least acted like she wanted to spend time with me. And so, a few weeks after that day, we resumed our marital relations." His tone, as if discussing a business contract that had been briefly interrupted by a strike, conveyed none of the agony that Tara knew he had felt.
Tara fought to keep the dizziness, creeping back along her vision, at bay. Finally, she managed to ask, "Wasn't Mama afraid that you would know? About me?" No, not about me. I didn't do anything. I didn't wreck your marriage.
Nathan's laugh chilled Tara's blood, pounding throughout the heart that he had not helped to create.
"Oh, she told me you were premature. She told me when she must really have been almost two months along-but she said she was about three weeks pregnant. I knew, though…She hadn't known with Vaughn or Donnie until she was almost two months along. Now she was trying to say she 'just knew' she was pregnant. I offered to go along with her to the doctor's, get everything checked out-but she said I didn't need to worry myself with it, that she was doing fine. And she was…She was never sick with you. They talk about pregnant women glowing-well, she did. And when you were born-a month early, she told me, trying so hard to act natural-the doctor said it was one of the easiest births he'd ever seen. And the whole time I played right along, even when you came out weighing over eight pounds-as if a baby who's a month premature is likely to weigh that much."
"And you never told her-ever," Tara repeated, feeling like a slow-witted child.
"No. She was my wife, and I wanted her to stay my wife. Quinn tried to see her, I'm sure of it. We had some calls that were hang-ups, and a couple of times that bastard even came to the house. I could see him drive up, when I was out in the fields closest to the place. And I headed back in, thinking I might just kill him if I found him going after my wife in my own home. But he left almost as soon as he arrived. I think he fell for her as hard as I did…Quinn always loved his whiskey; now he started drinking seriously-missing work, passing out at the bar and having to have somebody drive him home. Until he finally just left town."
Tara closed her eyes, and forced herself to ask the next question. "Do you know where he is?" Willow's hand stilled on her back, as if any sound might drown out the answer she awaited.
Nathan's smile was empty. "Quinn? My dear brother-your father-is dearly departed, Tara. He died a little over a year ago."
*****
I have no parents. My parents are dead. My mother is dead, and the man who was really my biological father is dead. I can never talk to him. And I can never talk to her about what happened.
Variations of these thoughts echoed in Tara's head for several seconds, and she watched them ripple out from her brain to begin stitching a new fabric for her life's story.
The past twenty-four hours had been a succession of blows to what she had always accepted as reality. After learning that her mother had no demon in her, she had found that her father did. Only he wasn't her father; her uncle was. The man she had called "Uncle Quinn" had had an affair with her mother, in which she herself had been conceived, and eventually he had left his wife as well as the woman he loved and two daughters. Now he was dead.
The only constant was the invisible cord that held her close to Willow, anchoring her to a family that didn't build hollow existences on the ruins of lies.
My parents are dead but my mate lives. So I can live, too.
Finally, she drew a shuddering breath and looked at Nathan shakily. "You're saying Quinn is dead? That there's no way for me to talk to him?"
Nathan's gaze was unreadable. Did he regret her pain? Did he relish it?
"That's right. I heard from Beverly last September. She said he called her from Tulsa; that's where he ended up. She's the one who told him that Julia had died. They spoke a couple of times, but he never wanted to get together. She got the impression that he was drinking even more. Apparently, his stomach started to bleed one night and two days later, he was dead. He had told the hospital that Beverly was his next of kin." Nathan smiled thinly. "Not his wife, who he never divorced, and neither of his two daughters."
Tara looked down again, feeling bludgeoned by the concussive force of the revelations. She had always been thoughtful, contemplative; she preferred the chance to reflect on things within her own mind before giving voice to those thoughts. Now, though, she felt as if she were on stage beneath an unyielding spotlight. As she tried to quiet the pounding in her head, she felt Willow lean closer, enclosing Tara's hand in both of her own.
"Baby, are you OK?" she whispered. "Do you need some fresh air; maybe take a break?"
Tara looked up to see Willow's worried gaze, the latter's brow arching in question. Suddenly, the need to be outside felt so overwhelming as to leave her almost dizzy. She tried to speak, but the words seemed to collide and tumble within her head. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then nodded.
"Yeah, that actually sounds like a good idea." She drew herself up straight, and looked at Nathan. What do I call him? As the two gazed at each other, the incredible irony sank into Tara's awareness: in the process of learning that this man was not her father, she had come to know and understand him more than she had ever imagined possible.
Maybe we're beyond titles now. "I need a little time to think," she said, half-amazed that she hadn't stuttered. She turned to Willow. "Maybe we could just go into town for a bit; get something to drink or whatever." It was close to six o'clock, but she could no more imagine eating than indulging in sex games with Xander, and both were approximately equal in their appeal. All she knew was that she needed to be away from the man in front of her, and the house, with all of its pictures that lied. And away from Beth, who sat upstairs unaware that they were sisters.
"You're just going to head back to college now? After everything you just learned?" Nathan sounded incredulous, snapping out of his seeming blankness.
"No," Tara replied evenly. "I just need to get my bearings and think about this a little bit. You've known all of this for two decades. I think it's pretty reasonable that I'd need to catch my breath after everything you've told me." Again, she felt a ripple of surprise at her bluntness with her father-with Nathan, she corrected herself. Standing, she was glad to feel Willow's hand on the small of her back, an unspoken assurance that she would steady her, hold her up.
"So you'll come back?" Nathan's voice sounded almost hopeful. Hopeful of what?
"Yes, but I won't be staying. We all need to get back…home." She saw his jaw tighten at the word, and wasn't sure whether she felt sorry for him or outraged. Both, she realized, and probably a whole slew of other feelings that I can't even imagine right now.
Turning to leave the room, she suddenly thought of another house that had been shaken to the ground. "Does Beth know? About any of this?"
Nathan shrugged. "I'm almost certain she doesn't. I'm sure Margaret told her Quinn was dead, but nothing more than that."
Tara shook her head. Had any of these alleged adults, years ago, thought of the price their children would have to pay for their own fears? She fought the urge to run out of the house. Instead, she walked deliberately toward the kitchen. Reaching the threshold, she saw that the group had pulled on their jackets and windbreakers and were already coming to meet her. So they heard all of that, too. Her vision grew blurry for a moment as she took in the love and gentleness of the faces before her. Afraid that her voice would fail her, she squeezed Willow's hand in a silent plea.
"Hey guys," her mate said quietly. "Let's get out of here for awhile." So saying, she turned, and the group filed out of the kitchen door that opened onto the side porch. No one said anything until they reached the car, and then, with no warning, Dawn turned and buried her face against Tara's shoulder, wrapping her slender arms around her with a strength that Tara couldn't have guessed she had. Tara was stunned, but only for a moment, and then she enfolded the younger girl tightly into her arms, resting her cheek against the brown hair. She felt Dawn's shoulders trembling slightly, and murmured, "It's OK, Dawnie. I'm alright." The others watched with a mixture of discomfort and sadness, but Tara was content to focus on Dawn for this time.
After a couple of minutes, Dawn reluctantly pulled back a few inches from Tara's embrace, and looked up at her with glistening eyes. She seemed unable to speak, and instead reached up to Tara's face with shaking fingers, where she hesitantly wiped away the tears that Tara hadn't even realized she'd shed. Tara managed a tiny smile, and pulled Dawn close to her again, whispering as if sharing a secret with the younger girl alone, "I love you, Dawnie. You're my family now."
They piled into the car in silence.
*****
Beth must have walked back upstairs. She couldn't remember doing so, but now she was standing in front of what used to be Tara's room, so she must have done it.
She watched her hand extend to the doorknob and twist it slowly. Giving a slight push, she saw the objects in the room grow closer with the steps that she must be taking. Finally she reached the bed, and watched as her hands sank to the blue and white quilt and she lowered herself onto the mattress. She didn't lie down. She just sat, very quietly, and thought about things.
*****
Part 13
Fifteen minutes after Buffy had slid the car into gear, they were pulling up beside a small diner. The faded red lettering on the window proclaimed this to be "Jack's Place." Jack, like most Cold Springs proprietors, had apparently seen better days.
The conversation on the way had been slight, after Tara had quietly told them that she needed some time to digest it all. Now, as they took their seats around a large table toward the back of the diner, everyone exchanged uncertain glances, or devoted profound consideration to the knives and forks resting on the chipped gray Formica.
"So-your father isn't really your father," Anya finally said brightly, apparently unable to tolerate the silent tension anymore. Far better for her, it seemed, was the loudly proclaimed tension.
Xander looked at his girlfriend with a mixture of disbelief and consternation, while Willow's mouth formed a thin slash and she glared at the ex-demon without remorse. Tara, however, found the observation almost unspeakably amusing-to the point of near-hysteria. Her laughter, quiet at first, quickly gained volume and vigor until tears were streaming down her face. Well, this should just confirm their original suspicions that I'm a freak. But she couldn't help it, and she realized with surprise that she didn't really want to help it.
"Apparently not," she finally managed to reply through her laughter. She knew that everyone but Willow was staring at her as if she'd just told them that she had converted to Satanism and intended to round up a few animals back at the farm for ritual sacrifices.
"I'm sorry," she continued, her laughter finally abating. "It's just-I can't believe this. This morning my main concern was whether I had any demon in me. And apparently I don't, but it's sort of hard to focus on that part, considering everything I've learned in the past two hours." Willow's hand rested lightly on her leg, giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance.
"Tara," Giles began, clearing his throat. "One can only begin to imagine what you're going through right now. I suspect there aren't really words for it."
"Except for 'hellish,' 'unreal,' and possibly 'mind-bending,'" Xander added with a sardonic grin. Tara met his eyes, and they shared a brief smile-the kinship of estrangement from one's kin.
A tall, reed-thin server whose name tag suggested she might respond to "Angie" appeared at their table, plunking down menus and promising to return with water. The conversation halted briefly while they considered their gustatory options. Tara barely glanced at her menu; it was hard to imagine ever being hungry again.
"So, uh, Tara-you've eaten here before. Any suggestions?" Buffy asked.
"Stay away from the seafood buffet," Tara replied absently. "It's basically Mrs. Pauls, deep-fat-fried."
The server returned, depositing glasses of water from her tray. "You folks aren't from around here, are you?" she inquired. "Pretty sure I've never served you before-except for you," she added abruptly, suddenly noticing Tara at the far end of the table.
Tara nodded, not terribly happy to have been recognized.
"What's your name, Honey?" Both Willow and Dawn glanced up sharply at this, and Tara made a mental note to explain the custom of greeting everyone with terms that implied you were about to sleep with them.
"Tara," she answered simply.
"Who's your family, Sweetie?" Tara could see Willow and Dawn frowning. Remind me to write a short story about this sometime.
Aloud, she replied, "Maclay."
"Maclay…" Angie frowned, considering the name. Then she brightened. "Oh, you're Nathan and Julia's girl." She grinned as she placed Tara in her personal Cold Springs reference guide.
Tara felt her heart constrict to the point of bursting, but managed to nod and give what she hoped was a reasonable facsimile of a smile.
Angie's own smile dimmed. "Julia was such a nice lady. I've only seen your daddy a few times, but your mom came in here a lot. She was one of the classiest people I've ever met."
Tara couldn't imagine speaking, but knew she had to. Swallowing heavily, she said simply, "Thank you. You're very kind."
Angie gave her a sympathetic smile and turned back to the others. "You all know what you want, or do you need a few more minutes?"
Soon, Angie had taken their orders back to the kitchen, the scribbling of her pencil pausing only briefly when she heard Giles' English accent. She winked at him and said, "Hope you enjoy our little slice of American cuisine, Honey," which seemed to appease Willow and Dawn considerably.
As she walked away, Tara felt tears pricking her eyes. "Except I'm not, am I? Nathan's girl, at least." She fell silent, uncomfortably aware of the others' eyes upon her. She hated being the center of attention, and there was no way that she couldn't be right now. She was the very reason these people were sitting here in an old diner, preparing to dig into roast beef with mashed potatoes and gravy and other home-style eats.
As the silence lingered, she fought the urge to drop her head. Clearing her throat, she said, "I feel like I should apologize for what this day turned into."
A chorus of protests greeted this. "Tara, this is what friends do," Buffy said vehemently. "Besides vanquishing the undead and averting world cataclysm, of course."
"Buffy's right," Xander nodded. "If you gotta go through this, I'm glad we're here."
"And I've hardly thought about the money we're losing at the Magic Box," Anya offered earnestly. "I mean, here it is, a beautiful day when people might well be out doing their holiday shopping-I can only guess how much we'd have cleared-but it's barely crossed my mind."
Willow just shook her head, but Tara reached across the table and squeezed Anya's hand. "You really do care, don't you?" she asked, with just a trace of a grin.
"More than most people around here seem to realize," Anya replied pointedly, as Angie returned with their drinks.
When she had left again, Giles leaned forward, speaking softly. "Tara, do you believe your father? All of what he told you?"
Tara had pondered this question on the way into town. Looking at the kind face before her, she shook her head in tired bewilderment. "I think so. I just don't see what reason he'd have to lie. I think he wrote the letter when and why he said he did; and I…" She was having trouble putting the rest into words. Finally, she bit her lip and said, "I think he was telling the truth about Mom, too…As much as I don't want to believe she could do such a thing, I think it's true."
Dawn's voice rose in protest. "But couldn't he just be telling you that to hurt you, Tara? I mean, it's an awful thing to imagine, but he just seems so…so hurt and bitter about their marriage falling apart. Maybe he just wants to taint your image of your mother."
Tara gave a bitter laugh. "Well, he did a good job with that one…I mean, she took Donnie with her. What in the goddess' name was she thinking about?" She felt her throat tighten as she remembered Nathan's graphic depiction.
She couldn't face that yet, she realized. She needed to be alone with Willow for that conversation. Returning to the issue of Nathan's veracity, she continued, "The thing is, by telling me what he did, he also knew that he would set me free." Her words stunned her even as she spoke them, but she realized it was true. If she wasn't Nathan's biological daughter, there was no chance of her having any demon heritage. And such a heritage was the only factor that had even a remote chance of dragging her back to Cold Springs.
The others fell silent as they considered this fact. Finally, Giles murmured, "Nathan seems to be a very…complex man, Tara. It's hard to know exactly what his motivation is."
"I agree," Buffy nodded. "On the one hand, he has to know how much it would hurt you to hear about your mother and his brother." She halted, looking at Tara as if apologizing for the words. "But on the other hand, he just assured you that you don't have to worry about any kind of demonic legacy, which means he really does have no scare tactics left to try to force you back home."
Tara felt an unexpected twinge as she replied, "Maybe he's decided he really doesn't want me at home." Why should that thought make me sad? It's not like I want to be there…
"I don't know," Giles said slowly. "From what I could, um, overhear, he didn't want you to leave just now. I have the impression that he does want you back home. The question is, for what reason?"
Tara looked up to see Angie returning with their food. At Willow's urging, she had ordered a small cup of baked potato soup and was surprised to find herself savoring its aroma. As everyone focused on their meals, Tara took the opportunity to look more closely at Willow. Her beloved had been unusually quiet since they arrived at the diner. Leaning in toward her, Tara whispered, "Are you OK, Sweetie?"
As Willow looked up at her, Tara realized that her eyes were filled with tears, rendering the usually-clear emerald gaze a glassy opaque. Willow shook her head helplessly.
"I just-I can't stand watching you go through this, Baby," Willow replied softly, her voice obscured from the others by the clinking of cheap cutlery on cheap plates. "You've been through so much-too much-and I just want to do something to make it all end." She drew in a small, hitched breath and added, "It kills me to see you hurt, Tara." At this, a tear finally edged over her lid and trickled down her cheek.
Unable to speak, Tara simply took Willow's hand and kissed it with infinite gentleness. "As long as you're my future, I can handle anything about my past," she managed to whisper, and realized that it was true. They held each other's eyes for a long moment, and then Willow gave her a tiny smile.
Taking a spoonful of the surprisingly good soup, she heard Dawn say, "Well, there's one good thing: Donnie isn't your full brother. I mean, you're nothing like him anyway, but…Well, I don't know. That just seems good somehow."
"It is," Tara confirmed. "We could argue nature versus nurture until the cows come home-which is about sevenish, around here-and never know for sure why Donnie turned out the way he did, but it does feel good to know we only have one parent in common." Frowning, she added, "Although I have to admit, I felt kinda sorry for him, when Dad-when he talked about beating Donnie the way he did." Not to mention the fact that Donnie was dragged along whenever Mom had a rendezvous with her husband's brother-my father.
"I know," Xander replied. "I was all set to hate my dad, and then I found out that his father was an alcoholic who used to drag him into bars and basically forget about him until closing time, and then drive him home three sheets to the wind." His voice grew quiet as he remembered. "The gray zone sucks…I like my women adventurous, my tools sharp, and my evil unambiguous." He shook his head.
Willow spoke up now, angrily. "I don't care what he went through when he was little…I mean, OK, I do, because no kid should be beaten, ever; but that's no excuse for the way he treated you. He beat on you-he terrorized you-because you were smaller than him. He took out all of his anger on you, and hit you where your parents wouldn't see it, and there's no excuse for that." She stopped, and drew in a gulping breath.
The table fell silent, and Tara realized that not everyone knew just how abusive Donnie had been. She could see Willow come to the same realization. Green eyes looked helplessly at her, filled with apology for the spill. Tara could only smile sadly, and took hold of Willow's hand.
"So Donnie beat you up?" Dawn asked, eyes narrowing. "Like, all the time?"
Tara gave what she suspected was a sorry excuse for a grin. "Well, not all the time…Tuesdays were usually pretty calm." Bad joke, but I just can't go into the full horror story right here in the middle of Jack's Diner.
"Can I stake him?" Buffy asked Giles flatly. "If he's half demon, does that make him fair game?"
"Guys, please-I know you're just being protective, and I...God, I love it; it's a totally new experience for me. But…" She sighed, trying to find words. "I'm so tired of all the anger and the hurting and the violence. I have to make my own peace with all this, and inflicting pain to heal from pain seems like a dubious enterprise." She smiled again, this time with more actual humor. "Although if anyone feels the need to knee him in the groin if you ever see him again, I wouldn't exactly file charges."
"What about Beth?" Anya piped up. "If Nathan's telling the truth, she's your half-sister."
"I know," Tara said, shaking her head as another relationship in her life tilted and reshaped itself before her.
"Maybe…maybe the two of you could end up being friends," Dawn offered hesitantly. "You know-you've both had such a rough time with your parents; maybe you could sort of help each other out." She stopped, and then shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance. "I mean, Buffy may be a little rough around the edges, but I don't know how I would have gotten through Mom and Dad's divorce without her." She glanced at Tara with an embarrassed smile. "But if you ever tell her that, I'll never drink milkshakes with you again."
Once again, the table fell silent; this time, though, for a different reason. Dawn, however, didn't realize that, and continued looking at Tara with barely-disguised adoration.
*****
Her mind seemed to be slogging through some nearly-impenetrable mire. From one corner of her mind, she watched herself thinking, and wondered why it was so difficult to put thoughts together. She knew she wasn't stupid. Why was her brain moving so slowly?
Her father had had an affair with Tara's mother. Apparently, he had loved her, enough to leave town-leave his daughter-rather than be near her and unable to touch her.
Except he had left two daughters. Tara was also his little girl.
And he was dead.
Her mother hadn't told her about that.
*****
The ride back to Tara's house was less constrained than the trip into town. Tara could still feel herself tumbling from anger to grief to disbelief, but she had been shored up by the brief respite. She could face this house, this man, again, knowing that she would soon leave and go back to the place most truly called "home."
"I think I'm ready to leave, at least for now," she said as Buffy tooled down the winding lane. "I need to go back to Sunnydale, think about all of this-and talk everything over with Willow," she added, hoping Willow had forgiven herself for her earlier disclosure. After everything this day has held, Love, do you really think I would be angry about one slip, made in the heat of protecting me?
"Well, whatever you need to do, Tara," Buffy replied, catching Tara's eye in the rearview mirror. Tara smiled back at her gratefully.
One of my friends is a vampire slayer…The Vampire Slayer. And she wants to kick my tormentor's ass for me, at the very place where I was most vulnerable. Things really do change…
As they rounded the bend, Tara heard Dawn say from the front seat, "Tara, it looks like there's company. Do you know who it is?"
Leaning forward to peer between the two sisters, Tara felt her heart begin to pound until it was ringing in her ears. Sinking back against Willow, she said quietly, "It's Donnie."
*****
One small part of Tara's mind took in the sight of the camper and wanted to laugh: Of course he's here…We're gathering at the mansion for the big denouement scene.
Another, much larger part wanted to shut down, drive away, do anything to avoid what could only lead to chaos and anger.
Pulling rather abruptly to a halt, Buffy turned to look at Tara. "Do you want to just leave now? I can throw this thing in reverse and we can be back on the main road in less than ten minutes."
"Or you could just run over him," Dawn suggested hopefully.
Tara gave serious thought to Buffy's suggestion, and let herself reflect briefly on Dawn's. No…Let's get this over with. If all the players are on the stage, let's finish this scene. She looked at Willow, who reached out to brush her hair back from her face.
"I think I should do this, Will. It's time."
Willow gave her a gentle smile. "It's your call, Baby. I'm right here with you…We all are."
Tara leaned over for a much-needed kiss, and then nodded to her beloved, who popped open the door. As they all tumbled out of the SUV, Donnie emerged from the house, followed closely by his father. He looked at Tara, and then at Nathan, and finally back at Tara again. Even from several yards away, Tara could see his jaw clenching; and then she saw his fists do likewise. After a moment, he started toward her.
I don't have to be afraid. I can stand tall, and I have people who love me here beside me. I don't have to run from him anymore.
As he neared her, she pulled herself to her full height and felt an unexpected but profound calm settle over her. She was powerful. She was strong. She loved, and was loved.
What is there to fear? I know what I need to say to him.
And she would have said it, too, except that he was no longer in front of her. He was, in fact, now flying several yards away, his face contorted with rage and budding fear. Turning, Tara saw Willow, one hand extended and trembling. Her breathing seemed almost ragged.
"Never. Again. You will never touch her again." The words were expelled with a venom that Tara hadn't imagined her sweet Willow possessed.
She reached out and put her hand on Willow's raised arm. The flesh pulsed with heat and power, and Willow's eyes shimmered with fury. Looking into those eyes, Tara felt her throat tighten. "Willow, Sweetie-it's OK. Thank you, for protecting me. But…" She stumbled, trying to find words. "But with you here, for the first time I feel like I can protect myself."
Willow hesitated, and then nodded reluctantly. She lowered her hand, extending it to clasp Tara's. "I just-Baby, it's so hard not to hurt him." Her eyes had become gentler, it seemed, and now brimmed with tears.
"I know…I'd feel the same way if someone wanted to hurt you." She squeezed Willow's hand, feeling her mate's energy return to normal.
Behind them, Donnie rose unsteadily to his feet. "Fucking dyke witch!" he swore hoarsely. As if unable to believe he might be subdued a second time, he took a threatening step toward her.
"Oh no, Dickless Wonder-I'm next," Buffy interjected darkly, edging in front of Willow. "I'm not a dyke. I'm not a witch. I'm not even fucking at this particular moment. I'm just a little slip of a girl-who will rip your arms out of their sockets and beat you with them if you so much as think about it."
Donnie stared at her in disbelief. "What is this? Why are you even here?" he demanded, gesturing to the entire group.
Meanwhile, Dawn had managed to sidle up next to Buffy and was now trying to wrest free of her sister's restraining grip. "C'mon-I wanna piece of that beer-bellied slime-ball!" she hissed menacingly. Tara stared at the slight teenager with a mixture of shock and love.
"I mean it," Dawn was saying. "I may not be a witch and I may not be fucking either, but I can take your scruffy ass." Buffy looked at her sharply, whether because of her language or because of her conspicuous absence of clarification regarding her own sexual orientation, Tara wasn't sure.
"Dawn, you can't go after him," Buffy whispered tersely.
"Why not?" came the defiant reply.
"Because," Xander piped up, stepping forward himself, "if we're gonna go Mike Tyson on this Aryan Nation reject, we're doing it in order of age, which means you go last."
And Tara, who was peaceful and loving and gentle and gracious, felt her heart grow warm and happy at the sight of so many people lining up to beat her brother into a soggy mass of quivering flesh.
Donnie seemed unable to comprehend the scene before him…all these people so willing-so eager, it would appear-to pound him into the ground. He looked from one ominous face to another, his stupefaction rendering him uncharacteristically mute-for a moment.
"What the hell are you all thinking? Do you have any idea what a freak she is? This is-" He stopped, fumbling in his agitation. "She's a fucking weirdo lezzy who's only here in the first place because our mom was whoring around with her brother-in-law."
He knows. He knows everything, she thought, even as she gripped Willow's hand tightly and whispered, "As you have done, receive." She watched as Donnie sank to his knees, clutching his chest in agony. He looked up at her, his face filled with anguish and confusion.
"Does it hurt, Donnie?" she asked shakily. "Does your heart feel like it's going to rip out of your chest?" She held his gaze for a moment more, before muttering, "Release." At the word, Donnie slumped forward, ashen and struggling for breath.
Donnie stared at her, tears spilling over his cheeks and splashing onto the cracked gray sidewalk. He shook his head dumbly, and when he finally spoke, his voice was broken and raw.
"She took me with her, Tara. She threw me in a car seat and dragged me to some abandoned house so she could screw Dad's brother." He rose slowly to his feet, anger spilling back into his eyes. "It's not fair, damn it! It's not fair…" His voice choked on his grief and rage.
~~~
Upstairs, forgotten by her uncle and pondering the death of her father, she heard the crunch of tires on the gravel and at first assumed that Tara and her friends had returned. The familiar spluttering cough of the engine as it cut off, however, told her that Donnie was back.
Donnie…None of this would have happened if she hadn't agreed to help Donnie. Did she wish she could go back and do it differently? Go back to when she thought her father was at least still alive somewhere and that none of his affairs had involved Tara's mother? When she didn't know that Tara was her sister?
She heard Donnie's harsh voice carrying over the yard and into the house, and decided not to go downstairs just yet.
~~~
"No, it's not fair," Tara replied, her voice breaking. "It was wrong and she was wrong and I'm sorry, Donnie, I'm so sorry that you went through that. And I'm sorry that you were beaten because of his twisted reasoning and I'm sorry that when you were upset they didn't hold you and try to figure out what you needed. I'm sorry, Donnie, I am, but it wasn't my fault! I didn't do any of it! I was the one person who couldn't hurt you, and you decided to hurt me. And that was wrong too, Donnie." She was sobbing now, Donnie a dim blur through her tears.
"Fuck her," Donnie's voice sounded raspily in her ears. "Fuck that lying, cheating slut-"
"Donald, stop it!" Nathan's voice called out sharply. "Don't…don't talk about her that way." He walked toward them slowly, and some distant part of Tara's mind realized that he was getting older.
Donnie wheeled about, gaping with disbelief. "What the…Daddy, are you defending her? After everything you just told me? After everything she did to you? Did to me?"
"She's still your mother, Donald. And she was my wife." Exhaustion radiated from Nathan's eyes.
"A wife who cheated on you, Daddy! How can you stand up for her?" Donnie's face was pale and drawn as he looked at his father in shock.
"Because I love her. I always did; I always will." The tone of his voice suggested that this answer sufficed entirely.
Donnie stared at him a moment longer, and then laughed weakly, the sound tinged with despair. "And her?" he asked, gesturing to Tara. "Do you love her, too?"
Tara realized with a swift shock that she desperately wanted to know the answer.
It shouldn't matter. You don't belong here. He's not even your father…
Of course it matters. He's the only father you've known; the only father you'll ever know.
She found herself looking reluctantly at Nathan, dreading his answer. He gazed at her for several moments, his eyes filled with messages Tara couldn't decipher.
Finally, he replied quietly, "Every time I look at you, Tara, I see your father."
Oh goddess…
"And then I look at you again and I see your mother."
His face was suddenly filled with a grief that left Tara almost breathless. "You're so much like her, Tara-the way you look, the way you think…the way you tilt your head when you're lost in thought…You have her smile, and her gentleness."
Tara could barely see him through her tears.
"It breaks my heart to have you here, and it breaks my heart to watch you leave." He fell silent, his head dropping slightly.
Beside her, Tara could hear Willow's own muted crying. The hand in hers squeezed tightly, as if trying to convey immeasurable love and strength through the rhythmic flexing of her fingers.
"But you have her restlessness, too, at least where home is concerned," Nathan continued after a moment. "I couldn't keep her, and I knew when you were just a little girl that I wouldn't be able to keep you either. I knew you'd get away, just like she did."
Tara found her voice, and prayed for steadiness. "But you talk about her as if she were some kind of animal that you wanted to keep penned up. I-I don't think it works like that."
Nathan looked at her with a kind of puzzled resignation. "But she would have left, Tara. She would have taken all that light and spirit and gone away. I wasn't enough to keep her here. And I couldn't lose her," he trailed off helplessly.
"But you did," Tara replied simply. "You lost her heart, and her spirit and her light and everything that you loved about her because you tried so hard to make her believe she was evil." Her voice shook as she thought about her mother dying with that belief. "She deserved better. And Donnie deserved better than being beaten because you wanted to keep him in line, too."
Turning to her half-brother, she added, "I can't believe I'm sticking up for you, Donnie, but if he hadn't beaten you, I don't think you would have beaten me."
"You don't know that," Nathan said quickly. "He does have demon in him-just like me."
"He was also brutalized by the man who should have protected him," Tara snapped back. "You don't know if he's so mean and angry because of the demon or because of what you did."
Halting abruptly with the force of her sudden uncertainty, she stared at Nathan. "Are you even sure you're a demon?"
Nathan seemed taken aback by the question. "What do you mean, am I sure? I was telling you the truth about my mother and what happened."
"You told me what your mother told you. But did you ever see anything? Did you ever witness your father being evil or destructive or cruel?"
Nathan's eyes grew cloudy as he struggled to remember. "No-but then, who's to say he didn't deceive me in some way, or take away my memory of it?"
"And who's to say he did?" Tara replied.
Nathan shook his head as if trying to force his thoughts into something cohesive and trustworthy. "But why would my mother lie?" he finally asked.
"Who knows?" Tara shrugged helplessly. "And I'm not saying she did. But look around you-has anything good at all come out of believing it without question? You didn't trust yourself, you didn't trust your son…"
"I trusted my wife," Nathan said simply. "And she betrayed that trust."
"Yes, she did," Tara replied, feeling her heart ache with the concession. "And she's the one person you knew wasn't a demon. So tell me how it all adds up to make any sense?"
In the silence that followed, Tara could hear Donnie's ragged breath. Turning, she saw that he was struggling to keep from crying. Biting his lip so hard that she thought he might draw blood, he said quietly, "You shouldn't have hit me, Daddy. You never had the right to hit me."
Nathan looked at him, his expression a mixture of remorse and obstinance. "I thought I was doing what was best, Donnie. I-I didn't know."
Donnie continued speaking as if he hadn't heard his father's voice. "It wouldn't have been that hard, Daddy, just to talk to me like I wasn't some dog." He seemed to be looking at something beyond his father.
~~~
When she heard the rumble of a second vehicle, she knew that Tara was back. Standing, she moved slowly about the room and peered at the various pictures and certificates and awards yet again. She knew them all, could practically recite the various inscriptions from memory.
She looked closely at a framed picture of Tara and her mother at Tara's eighth-grade graduation. Did Tara look like her father? She had a hard time remembering him clearly. She didn't think he had blond hair, but she was fairly sure that he had been taller than his brother and that he'd had long, graceful fingers.
As she heard the voices rising and falling below her, she walked slowly back to the bed and sat down. Maybe she would wait up here just a little bit longer.
~~~
As Tara felt the reassuring pressure of Willow's fingers interlocked with her own, she let herself feel the first wave of exhaustion from the day's chaos and upheaval. She wanted desperately to be alone with Willow, who she knew would help her begin to make sense of it all, wrapped within the comfort of her arms. Willow, who celebrated her strength and spirit-helped her find it and trust it, even-instead of trying to cage her or break her like a wild horse that she wanted to bend to her will.
Do I really need to say anything else? Is there anything else that I need to hear from them? Looking at the faces of those who had come to protect her, she realized that it was time to be with her family.
Taking a slight step forward, she said, "I have to go. It's time for me to leave."
Grief flashed across Nathan's face before he could hide it.
Donnie turned to her as if just remembering that she was there.
Steadying herself with Willow's presence, she continued, "There are probably other things we need to talk about at some point, but I can't do it now. And heaven knows you two need to talk," she added, glancing between the two men who stood angry and defeated before her.
"Are-are you sure you have to go?" Nathan's voice sounded smaller than Tara had ever heard it.
She couldn't bring herself to comfort him, and she couldn't bring herself to strike him down. She could only meet his eyes and reply, "Yes. I do...Daddy." The appellation was out of her mouth before she could stop herself, and she wasn't sure she would have stopped it anyway. Was he her father? Did she even have one? She only knew that this was what she had always called him, and though she wasn't sure she would call him that in the future, it was what she would call him now.
She saw him start at the word, and watched as his jaw worked furiously. Another man might well have cried, just a little.
Turning to Donnie, she said quietly, "I meant what I said earlier-I am sorry about everything you went through. But I don't want you to call me or come see me or interfere in my life in any way. I mean that just as much." Looking back at the others, she felt a tiny smile ripple over her face. "And in case you couldn't tell, they meant what they said, too."
She felt the warmth of Willow's fingers, of her spirit, sliding along her veins, warming her and giving her the strength to walk away. The others followed quietly behind her. Nathan and Donnie stood mutely, their eyes alternately trailing her and stealing back to the other, as if unsure of the threat they faced from one another.
When she reached the SUV, she remembered something. She turned and looked at Nathan. "The rock--what does that mean?"
He started at the sound of her voice, and then a ghost of a smile twisted across his mouth. "My father gave that to me. It was the week before we left. He said if you held it up to the light, you could see a bear in its markings. I could never see it…But I kept it. I thought maybe one day I'd be able to."
Not trusting herself to speak, Tara just nodded. She held his gaze for what felt like a very long time, before turning and climbing into the car.
~~~
Listening to Tara drive away, she glanced at the clock above the desk. Donnie had arrived just after the group had left the first time. So she knew her uncle hadn't eaten any supper.
She moved slowly to the door and walked out into the hallway, wondering whether he would prefer chicken or pot roast tonight.
*****
Part 14
It was a quiet, contemplative group that climbed into the SUV and headed down the old country road. Willow, whose years on the Hellmouth hadn't prepared her for such non-demonic carnage, found herself fighting back tears as she looked at Tara. Her beloved, so strong-so powerful-throughout the entire day, now looked exhausted and vulnerable.
Her whole world has just been ripped apart, and the two people she most needs to talk to are dead. How can she bear it?
She had watched Tara stand up to her father, and stand up to her brother. She had watched her learn horrific things about the woman she had idolized, the only person who had nurtured and protected her before she left home. She had watched her learn that the man she had called "Daddy" for so many years wasn't, and then learn that her actual biological father was dead. And through it all, Tara had held on tight to Willow's hand as she stepped unflinchingly into the innermost chamber of family secrets and betrayals.
It's not fair. She's already been through so much…too much…
As they pulled onto the highway that would lead them back to Sunnydale, Giles half-turned in his seat and asked, "Tara, do you want to talk about any of this? Or would you prefer some time to yourself?"
Willow felt a sudden squeeze on her fingers as Tara replied, "Actually, what I most want to do is to thank you all. I can't even begin…" She shook her head slightly and continued. "I can't even begin to tell you what it means to me-you coming with me like this, all of you. Taking time away from work, away from school…"
She gave Anya a little grin. "Away from the joys of capitalism."
Nodding, Anya said decisively, "Profit without principle is an insatiable temptress who corrupts the only possession that truly endures-the soul."
"Whoa," Xander broke in, staring at his girlfriend. "Who said that-Eleanor Roosevelt?"
"I did," Anya replied, tossing her head. "Just one of the many things you'd know about me if you asked me something besides, 'Will you wear this and pretend to be a virgin?'"
After a moment of collective silence that was, Willow suspected, accompanied by some truly mind-bending visuals, Tara said diffidently, "So, uh, anyway-thanks, everybody."
"Yes," Giles exclaimed quickly. "Staggering though it is to imagine that this is the more comfortable conversation, I would like to echo Anya's sentiments…er, the first sentiment, that is, not the second."
"I should hope so," Buffy commented dryly. "If Xander's asking you to wear some flimsy little outfit, not to mention the whole 'virgin' thing-"
"If you finish that sentence, I will hurtle myself from the car in hopes that the resulting brain injury precludes my ever having to remember this moment."
"Guys," Dawn interjected, "we were asking about Tara, remember? The one who's been through, like, five life-times of shock in one afternoon?"
Smiling gently at the girl beside her, Tara replied, "Actually, it feels sorta good to laugh again. The last few hours have felt like something out of a soap opera, without the requisite skimpy clothing and snifters of brandy."
"Really?" Willow asked gently. "I mean, I totally get it if you do; I just don't want you to feel like you've used up your daily ration of kindness from others."
"She's right," Xander said, nodding. "I know you're not much for the spotlight, Tara, but you've got a long way to go before you have to turn in your room key at the Open Arms."
"Thanks, Xander," Tara answered softly. "It's just-there's just so much to take in, and think about…I think I sorta need to watch the high-light reel in my head again before I can really talk about it and try to make some peace with it all." Turning to Willow in the darkness, she gazed at her intently and pressed two fingers against Willow's heart. Silently, she mouthed, "Later" to her partner.
Willow took Tara's fingers into her grasp and lifted them to her lips, nodding a silent understanding. At the end of the day, any day, it's always the two of us. As it should be.
"I hope that's OK with everybody," Tara added a moment later. "I mean, you came all this way with me, and stood up for me-I hope it doesn't feel like I'm tuning you out or anything. I'll definitely be bending some ears in the near future."
"I can only speak for myself," Buffy replied, "but I'm definitely pissed. I mean, jeez, Tara-after the day you've had, you certainly owe it to us to share every single thought and feeling you have." Catching Tara's eye in the rear-view mirror, she grinned. "No, I understand," she continued. "Sometimes the mental cacophony gets a little overwhelming."
"And sometimes I wonder how you can use 'cacophony' in one sentence and then infer when you should imply in the next," Dawn added, winking at Tara.
As Buffy pulled to a stop at a red light, Xander glanced out the window at the brightly-lit neon of the "Coastal Cowboy Bar 'n' Grill," announcing happy hours every night from 5 till 7 and karaoke every Friday and Saturday starting at 9. "Hey Tara," he asked, "y'ever been in that fine-looking establishment?"
Grinning with something akin to genuine amusement, Tara replied, "As a matter of fact, I have. I used to hang out there sometimes, the summer after I graduated."
"You're kidding!" Dawn exclaimed, leaning over Tara (and taking her time doing so, Willow noted) to get a better look at the place. "You hung out at a bar and grill?"
"Yeah," Tara nodded, as the light turned and Buffy pulled away.
"By yourself? Did you pick up women?" Dawn's curiosity was growing.
"Actually, um, my friend Kerri and I went there a lot."
This oughtta take the attention off of her family…
"Kerri? Who is this Kerri person? And why haven't we ever heard of her?" Xander inquired with feigned paternal disapproval.
"Kerri was this skanky ho-dyke that Tara cut her lesbian teeth on. So to speak," Willow added, frowning.
"Kerri was a very nice girl who was one of the few bearable people in this entire area," Tara corrected her gently.
"And just how exactly did you bear her?" Xander's curiosity was running neck-and-neck with Dawn's.
Willow fixed him with a warning glare as Tara replied, "I met her at the county library, in the Women's History section. She had gone to a different high school. Anyway, she started talking to me and we became friends."
"Orgasm friends?" Anya asked quickly.
"No!" came the duet from Tara and Willow. "Like I said," Tara continued, "we hung out a few times over the summer, and yes, she plays for our team, but we were never a couple."
"But you fooled around some, right?" Xander asked, pulling ahead slightly in the Vicarious Titillation race that was picking up speed on California Route 132.
"There were some smoochies and, um, you know…mostly smoochies," she finished lamely. "Hardly on a level with costumes and counterfeit virginity," she added pointedly. "She went East for college; we e-mail every now and then." Willow knew all of this but was nonetheless intrigued to see where it had all taken place.
"And I'm guessing you did karaoke too, huh?" Buffy piped up from the front seat.
"Oh, right," Willow scoffed. "Tara used to get all gussied up and grab that microphone like-"
"Yeah, once or twice."
Willow felt her jaw bang off of the floorboard and hastily scooped it back up to her face. "You did? You never told me!" As Tara shrugged, she continued, "What did you sing?"
"Well, the first time, I did 'Come to My Window,' by Melissa Etheridge."
I would dial the numbers just to listen to your breath…
The image sucked all of the air from Willow's lungs.
"You're serious, aren't you?" Dawn asked incredulously. "How in the world did you end up doing that?"
"Well, I lost a bet the first time, and the second time, Kerri said she'd give me her entire collection of Out magazines if I did." Willow realized that Tara, though usually averse to being the center of attention, was relieved by the temporary suspension of high angst.
"So what did you sing the second time?" she asked.
"Um…You know, I'm not sure I remember," she hedged.
"Bullshit on a Kaiser bun," Willow rejoined promptly. "You never forget anything, so give."
"Oh, it was one of those '80's hits," Tara replied faintly. "You know, all overwrought and melodramatic…"
"And which was referred to on the radio as…?" Buffy persisted.
"Dyuthnkimseksy," Tara finally mumbled, after a long pause.
"What?" Anya prodded her. "You sang some Russian tune?"
Tara sighed. "I sang 'Do You Think I'm Sexy?'"
The din in the car was terrific and sustained.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Xander whooped, practically leaping out of his seat onto Tara's lap. "We're talking 'If you want my body, and you think I'm sexy' here? Followed immediately by 'If you really want me, just reach out and touch me'?"
"No," Tara retorted, "I sang the Mormon Tabernacle Choir version: 'Do you think I'm sexy? No, because that would be wrong.'"
All further consideration of this revelation was interrupted as Buffy hit the brakes with her usual lack of subtlety and careened into a convenience store parking lot with a squeal of tires. Weaving through parked cars and around gas pumps, she barely paused at the edge of the parking lot before pulling back onto the road-heading north.
"Good Lord, Buffy," came Giles' exasperated shout as he clutched the grip above his window. "What in God's name are you doing?"
"Some things in life should never be passed up," the Slayer replied calmly. "Such things include free mochas, hot sex-you're excused from that one, Dawn-and hearing one's friends sing karaoke at out-of-the-way dives hours from home."
"You're going back?" Willow asked, agape, as Dawn squealed with delight.
"That's the plan," Buffy nodded with a grin. "Unless Tara doesn't want to. She gets right of first-and only-refusal."
Willow watched in amazement as her beloved first stared at Buffy in disbelief, and then slowly broke into a wide grin.
"As long as I'm not the only one singing," she stipulated, laughing.
"Are you kidding? This group, pass up a chance to make a scene? No way!" Buffy was grinning wickedly.
"But Buffy, it's already after nine," Giles pointed out with a sigh. "If we do this, we won't get back home until the middle of the night."
"Good point," Buffy mused. As Giles began to settle back into his seat, she added, "Looks like we'll have to stay. Tara-anything in the way of motels around here? Not too Norman Bates-ish?"
"Just a few miles up the road from the bar," came the quick reply. "We were almost there before you went slave to the rhythm and turned around."
"Great. It's a Friday, so no school missed, and we'll be back in the Dale of the Sun before noon."
Willow could scarcely believe what was unfolding before her, but as Tara turned to smile at her, she could see the first traces of relief and relaxation edging into her expression.
After the day she's had, I'm not surprised she just wants to laugh for a little bit. And if this helps her do that, then I support its nomination and election.
Buffy tooled the car into the bumpy, pot-holed lot of the Coastal Cowboy and cut the engine. Soon, the group had settled around a long table toward the back and ordered drinks and munchies.
"What's with the celery that comes with Buffalo wings?" Xander mused a few minutes later, biting into the latter and ignoring the former. "Does that make them healthy? 'Here-these vegetable slices will negate the arteriosclerosis'?"
Steering a French fry through an immense pile of ketchup, Dawn said, "So let's get with the singing, gang. I wanna hear this group rock the house!"
Willow turned to the Watcher, who was taking a long slug of draft beer. "G-Man, we've heard you sing. I think you're the one to start this tune-fest."
Giles choked slightly on his beer and looked at her as if she had suggested he trade in his tweed for bib overalls and take up professional wrestling. "I most certainly shall not," he managed to reply haughtily. "Someone has to retain some sense of dignity."
"Oh come on, Giles," Anya complained. "You've got dignity out the ass. You could stand to eliminate some of it, if you get my drift."
"I'll leave that to you," he maintained. "I shall enjoy my drink and pretend that I'm here as your guardian on a supervised trip from the group home."
"You could sing something British," Buffy cajoled. "You'd be quite the exotic attraction, right here in River City." She thought for a moment, brow furrowed. "I've got it!" she exclaimed. "How about 'I'm Henry the 8th, I Am'?" Turning, she slammed her palms onto the table and exclaimed, "Second verse-"
"Same as the first!" Willow and Xander sang out in unison.
"Bloody idiot-savants," Giles mumbled into his frosted mug. "Save the world once a year like clock-work, but damned if I can take them out in public."
Sensing that this particular dog wouldn't hunt, Willow turned her attention to the others. "OK, who's gonna bite the big one? Ain't gonna be me, for lots of reasons," she added.
"I'll go," Anya said excitedly, clearly getting into the spirit of things. She tossed back the rest of her vodka tonic like so much 7-Up and started to push back her seat.
"Ahn, honey, you sure you're up for this?" Xander asked with a worried expression.
"Of course, Xander," she smiled, looking at him quizzically. "Don't you want to hear me sing?"
Ah, Xander, my friend-you know the question's rhetorical, right?
"Of course," he said weakly, after a moment's hesitation. Grabbing her arm as she headed toward the stage, he added pleadingly, "Sing something nice, OK Ahn? Something-something sweet, to show your love?"
Anya's eyes grew moist. "Oh, Xander-you want me to serenade you! That's the most romantic thing you've ever said. Of course I'll sing something just for you."
"Something sweet," he attempted to clarify as she made her way toward the stage.
Moments later, following a hurried consultation of various options, she took the microphone and turned toward the group, her eyes seeking out her lover. Showing a surprisingly melodic voice, she began:
"I love myself, I want you to love me…
Stealing a glance at Xander, Willow saw a tiny smile of relief and affection nudging his lips.
He had, she realized, no idea what was coming.
When I'm feeling down, I want you above me…
She saw the smile waver just for a moment.
I search myself, I want you to find me;
I forget myself, I want you to remind me…
He was frowning slightly, as if trying to place the lyrics. Looking at the others, she saw that Tara and Buffy had already done so and were gaping first at the stage and then at each other, unable to believe their wondrous good fortune at hitting the mortification mother lode on the very first strike.
I don't want anybody else,
When I think about you I touch myself.
The bar erupted into wild applause and whistles as Giles spat out a mouthful of beer. Xander just stared at his girlfriend. "Words all gone. Xander no have words."
He simply shook his head as a greatly enthusiastic Anya sang, "I get down on my knees, I'd do anything for you." Moments later, she left the stage to great applause and skipped back over to the table.
"Did I surprise you, Xander?" she asked, breathless with excitement.
Xander managed an affectionate smile and took her hand. "Though it should be a complete impossibility by now, yes, Ahn, you did." He kissed her, to the appreciative cheers of their fellow patrons.
"Hey Tara," Dawn exclaimed, "you're the pro at this scene. Isn't it about time for you to head up there and work a little down-home magic? No pun intended," she added.
Oh yes…Yes, it's definitely time for her to work her magic.
Tara looked around uncertainly. "What should I sing? And no, Xander, I'm not taking a stroll down musical memory lane, so just put that idea out of your head." Turning to Willow, she explained, "I'd really like to sing you a love song, Sweetie; on the other hand, it's been a long day and I don't know that I'm up for an old-fashioned gay-bashing."
Buffy looked up from her potato skin. "Tara, are you really worried about that?"
"Well, it's crossed my mind," she answered reluctantly.
"And you think that I'd-what-just sit back and watch? If you wanna sing something to your girl, this is the place to do it. I got your back."
"And I got your front," Dawn piped up eagerly, only to look down quickly when she caught Willow's raised eyebrows.
"How about something stylish and classy?" she asked Willow, running her fingers lightly over Willow's cheek.
"You could sing the alphabet song to me and I'd throw my room key and underwear up on the stage," Willow replied helplessly, feeling her heart do that funny flipping thing it so often did when Tara looked at her like that.
Nodding, Tara looked back at the stage and took a final gulp of soda. "Wish me luck," she murmured, standing to make her way toward the stage. Without hesitation, she chose her song and then turned to take the microphone. As the last bars of the opening died away, she looked over at Willow and winked.
Chances are, 'cause I wear a silly grin,
The moment you come into view,
Chances are you think that I'm in love with you…
Willow felt her heart begin to squeeze almost painfully as Tara's sweet voice floated over the noisy crowd and lazily brushed against her cheek. It seemed almost impossible that this beautiful woman was singing to her.
In the magic of moonlight, when I sigh, "Hold me close, dear,"
Chances are you believe the stars that fill the skies are in my eyes…
She caught the surprised expressions on her friends' faces and realized that they had never heard Tara sing before. Listen to her…Isn't she beautiful?
Guess you feel you'll always be,
The one and only one for me,
And if you think you could…
Well, chances are your chances are awfully good…
Willow knew she was crying and didn't care.
Well, chances are your chances are awfully good.
Somewhere during the song, the bar patrons had recognized that Tara's voice had more going for it than just enthusiasm, and the more sentimental of them found themselves nodding at the time-burnished lyrics. A few people shook her hand and smiled at her as she returned to the table. Taking her seat, she entwined her fingers with Willow's and leaned forward to kiss her.
If we get killed, we go out in style-serenaded and stuffed with chicken wings and cheese fries.
As it turned out, however, the audience had focused its attention back onto the stage as a slightly bow-legged man with dark blond hair and a loud shirt took the microphone and proceeded to do irreparable damage to Frank Sinatra's "My Way."
"Wow," Buffy marveled. "His way really sucks." Turning back to Tara, she said, "You have a great set of pipes there, girl! Why didn't you tell us you could sing?"
Tara blushed and looked down, as Dawn gazed at her in almost slack-jawed adoration. It's official: Key or no Key, I have to take that girl out of commission.
As Tara continued to reap more praise, the man on stage finally stopped doing it his way and reluctantly left the stage. Dawn abruptly stood up and announced, "OK, I think the time has come." So saying, and much to Buffy's profound chagrin, she pushed away from the table and made her way quickly to the stage. Like Tara, she seemed to know exactly what she was looking for.
As she clutched the mike nervously, she looked back at the table and grinned-a huge, goofy, "Can you believe I'm doing this?" kind of adolescent grin. Suddenly, the unmistakable notes bounced forth from the amps and heads started bobbing of their own accord.
We are family,
I got all my sisters with me…
Looking quickly at Buffy, Willow saw her best friend's eyes widen in surprise. A not-quite-sad smile slowly made its way across her face.
Everyone can see we're together,
As we walk on by…
Feeling the tell-tale pricking at her own eyes, Willow saw Giles rest his hand gently on Buffy's back for the briefest of seconds. Everyone at the table exchanged quick glances, before Tara suddenly joined her voice to Dawn's as she came to the chorus.
We are family,
I got all my sisters with me.
We are family,
Get up everybody and sing…
Willow knew that Dawn had heard Tara's voice above the noise of the bar. She looked back and beamed at the blond woman who was smiling at her encouragingly.
Livin' life is fun and we've just begun
To get our share of this world's delights…
Willow wanted a "Pause" button just for this moment, because she knew that before long, Dawn wouldn't be able to sing this song with such unthinking enthusiasm. Before long, the real world would call each of them and demand their undivided attention.
No, we don't get depressed,
Here's what we call our Golden Rule…
She tried desperately to take a snapshot of the moment.
Have faith in you and the things you do,
You won't go wrong-oh no-this is our family jewel…
And then they were all singing, joining Dawn for the chorus…
We are family,
I got all my sisters with me…
And because it just seemed ridiculous not to, Willow stood and grabbed Tara's hand, pulling her to her feet; and Willow had awful rhythm, she knew-
Come on everybody and sing…
-but it didn't really matter, she realized; what mattered was that they were all there, on this wild night after this wild day, and they could sing a song like "We Are Family" and mean it, in the very best sense of the word-
I got all my sisters with me…
-and Buffy was dancing and beaming at Dawn, and Xander and Anya were twitching and writhing in their own inimitable way, and now even Giles was grinning like a fool and if she didn't know better she'd swear she saw him mouthing the words-
We are family…
-and she knew that it couldn't last forever but that only made it that much sweeter.
Beside her, hands clasped tightly in her own, Tara smiled at her through glistening eyes and Willow knew she was thinking the same thing.
*****
Part 15
They left the bar shortly after Dawn raised the roof and brought down the house with "We Are Family." There was a collective sense that nothing could top this, and so they settled the bill and headed out to the SUV, arms flung companionably about each other with no particular regard to coupling or gender.
As they approached the car, a woman's voice-not quite soft, not quite menacing-called out, "Hey, Tara-saw you in there, kissing your girlfriend."
Willow wheeled about, wondering just who was trying to spoil their fun this time. Maybe it's Jo, coming back to claim her woman and drag her off to the hills.
As the woman stepped out into the lamplight of the parking lot, Willow heard Tara's quick intake of breath.
"Cathy?" Tara asked hesitantly.
Cathy…Cathy…Who's Cathy?
Oh-that Cathy.
The Cathy who had humiliated Tara in front of the entire school; made her life even more miserable. This wench had taken something so exquisitely personal from her shy beloved and used it to drive a wedge between her and the only real friend she had.
Guess the ass-kicking isn't done for the day.
Looking at her closely, Willow could see a tall, impossibly thin woman (Doesn't anybody eat in this state?) with short black hair. Her hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of her very trendy leather jacket as she came slowly toward them.
"Long time no see, Tara," Cathy offered.
"A fact which I'm handling remarkably well," Tara replied evenly, to Willow's delight.
"OK…" The other woman nodded slowly. "What you did, inside-singing a love song to a woman and then kissing her like nobody else was even there…"
"Yes?" Tara's voice held an edge to it which Willow had heard all too frequently in the last week.
"I hope I have the guts to do it someday." The voice was suddenly very quiet.
"What?" Tara sounded incredulous.
Of course. Of course her high school nemesis comes out to her, tonight, in Cold Springs. Saw it coming a mile away.
"I said, I hope I'm brave enough to be myself one day, no matter where I am."
"Cathy, if you're trying to make up for lost time since I've skipped our class reunions, you've picked a really bad-"
"No," the other woman replied, holding up a conciliatory hand. "Just wanted to say I'm sorry for being such an ass, and tell you how great it is that you're so open."
Tara shook her head as if to clear her vision, and finally replied, "Cathy Morrisey…Of all the shockers…" She looked up, a smile finally creasing her face. "Dare I ask who? If there is anyone, that is."
Cathy laughed. "Tina."
"Tina Corcoran? The class Holy Roller?"
"Retired Holy Roller. Hung up her wings right after we got roaring drunk on Prom Night, flirting all the while, and finally ditched our dates to make out in the library."
"And it all gets curiouser and curiouser…"
"Anyway, I just wanted to tell you, and apologize. You look really happy." Cathy seemed almost shy now.
"I am. Immensely so." Tara smiled at Willow, who felt her heart break out into a tiny little tap dance of joy.
"Take care," Cathy nodded, then turned and walked back into the bar.
"You too," Tara called, just before the others broke out into a frenzied babble of questions, opinions, and wild conjecture.
"All will be revealed," Tara laughed, with a dazed shake of her head. "Let's just get to the hotel."
*****
O'Leary's Motor Lodge (Free Cable and Pool!) was never full; hence the startled look on the desk clerk's face when seven individuals tumbled in and asked for accommodations.
"Uh, how many rooms will you be needing?"
There was a moment's uncertainty as everyone looked at each other.
"Well, we could put all the girls in one room, and Giles and Xander could room together," Dawn suggested.
"I don't think so," Anya replied promptly, and with more than a little vehemence. "I just sang 'I Touch Myself' to the man I love, and if you insist on some archaic gender segregation, you'll listen to me touch myself all night long."
"Etch-a-Sketch Moment! Etch-a-Sketch Moment!" Willow cried out, shaking her head frantically from side to side in an attempt to clear the image from her mind.
"Tara, I'm guessing you and Willow would like some time alone, right?" Buffy asked, hands on her hips.
"Actually, yeah. That would be just about beyond perfect right now," Tara nodded gratefully.
"OK, so how about this: you two in one room; Anya and Xander in another room, preferably in another wing of the hotel or maybe another hotel altogether; me and Dawn in a third room; and Giles, that leaves you bunking single, if you're OK with that."
"I should be immensely relieved, to be honest," the Watcher replied. "I always stash some Earl Grey in my jacket. I think I'll just sink into bed and enjoy a quiet cup."
With a decisive nod, Buffy turned back to the clerk and within a matter of minutes, the seven of them were making their way down a long hallway to their respective rooms. Pausing outside #214, Tara looked at the others, gratitude battling exhaustion in her eyes.
"You guys-what you did today; what you did tonight…I don't know how I can ever repay you. It-it means more to me than you'll ever know."
Giles enfolded Tara in a tweedish and very warm embrace. "My only request of you, Tara, is that one day you realize that no repayment is ever necessary for caring about you."
After that, there was a dim blur-at least to Willow's emotional gaze-as each person came up in turn to hug Tara, offering words of either sincere comfort or gentle banter. Even Anya flung her arms around Tara, whispering, "You really do deserve the good stuff, you know."
Willow saw Dawn hanging back, hands jammed into her back pockets as she stared at the ground. She really is overwhelmed by all of this; by what she's feeling.
"Dawnie?" Tara's voice was soft. And then Dawn edged around Buffy and wrapped her arms fiercely around the taller girl's waist. Through her own misty vision, Willow saw a tear slip past Dawn's closed lashes and trickle down her cheek. She didn't say anything, just squeezed Tara as if her life depended on it and finally stepped back away, looking down at the ground once more.
Finally, the group dispersed into their own rooms, Anya humming the chorus of her chosen serenade from earlier.
Alone at last.
*****
Willow looked at Tara for what seemed like an eternity, before stepping forward and pulling her gently into her arms.
"Oh, my sweet Baby," she murmured, wondering what she could possibly say to ease the pain and confusion of this incredible day. Pulling back softly, she stroked Tara's soft cheek and opted for tangibility. "Is there anything you want? Anything to drink?"
To her surprise, Tara nodded slowly. "Now that you mention it, I'm parched. I think I saw vending and ice machines at the other end of the hall. Would you mind…?"
"Of course not." Willow practically jumped at the chance to do something for her beloved. She grabbed the ice bucket and pulled a handful of coins from her purse, and then kissed Tara softly. "I'll be right back, Baby."
Heading down the hall, she glanced at the short corridor leading to the balcony on the second floor. She pulled up abruptly when she discerned Dawn's slight figure leaning over the railing.
Three guesses what's on her mind… She wondered if there weren't some karmic reason for her to have been walking down the hallway and to have glanced over just when she did. She made a 90-degree turn and within a few strides was standing next to the teenager under a bright moon.
"Hey Dawnie," Willow said softly, running her hand briefly over the girl's arm.
"Hey Willow," Dawn replied, giving her a quick smile before turning back to gaze at something far away.
"Long day, huh?" Willow offered. "I mean, who coulda guessed this morning how everything would turn out."
"Not me," Dawn muttered, "and I thought I had a pretty good imagination."
"You know," Willow continued, proceeding by intuition as much as rationality, "I don't think Tara realizes how much good stuff she pulls from people just because of who she is. Does that make sense?"
Dawn nodded. "It's like she doesn't get it-how special she is. And now, seeing where she came from and what she went through, I think, well how could she have gotten it, before now? No wonder she has such a hard time knowing how great she is."
Willow answered slowly, "Well, sometimes other people see us more clearly than we see ourselves, especially when our feelings are involved."
Dawn stole a quick glance her way, before staring back out at the night. Willow continued, "And Tara…Well, she just doesn't get how easy it is to love her." She saw Dawn shift uncomfortably. "I think she's still surprised that I love her. She can't imagine someone just falling for her, head over heels."
Even in the dark, she could see Dawn's knuckles whiten as she gripped the railing. "Willow?" Her voice was tiny.
"Yeah, sweetie?"
Dawn swallowed twice, and then squared her slender shoulders. "I think I'm in love with Tara."
And in other news, scientists have determined that fire is hot.
Listening to her now, Willow couldn't feel any resentment or possessiveness. She looked at Dawn and saw a teenager who was swamped with feelings she could hardly understand or explain. She saw a girl who worshipped someone well worth worshipping and who had absolutely no idea of how to deal with it. And she saw someone who was the Key, created to open the portals between dimensions, who had no idea how her life was about to change.
So she turned and took Dawn into her arms and said, "Who can blame you, Dawnie?"
"You're not mad?" came the muffled query.
"No, I'm not mad. I mean, she's Tara. I commend you on your good taste." She felt Dawn grin against her shoulder before the girl pulled back and look down at her shoes.
"Does Tara know?" She folded her arms as if anticipating abject scorn.
How do I answer that one? Tell her that everybody else knows but Tara is the one person who doesn't really believe it? "Well, it's like we were saying: it's hard for Tara to imagine being such a hot commodity, so I don't think she does."
"OK, that's a huge relief," Dawn sighed. She turned, and leaned back against the railing. "I didn't really figure it out until today. I just thought that Tara was-extra neat, you know? Like, she's all gentle and magical and really smart…I just thought that I wanted to be like her. And then today, seeing how people treated her, and hearing what she went through…At first I just wanted to slug her dad-or whoever he is-and then after awhile all I wanted to do was sit and hug Tara. And the more I thought about hugging her, the more I felt all…" Here she stopped, and looked away in keen embarrassment.
"Kinda warm and squiggly inside?" Willow offered helpfully.
"Very warm, and all kinds of squiggly," Dawn confirmed decisively. "I mean, I know she's your girlfriend, and everybody would say that I'm too young for her-even though I'm way more mature than Janice, and she's dating an eighteen-year-old-and basically, I haven't got a chance in hell and I really am happy for you two, and oh God, I'm starting to sound like a graduate from the Willow Rosenberg School of Elocution and Conciseness."
Willow frowned slightly. "Well, thanks-I think. You're right, she is my girlfriend and everybody-including Tara and me-would say you're too young, and no, you wouldn't stand a chance anyway. But that's not the point," she added quickly. "The point is, you have really intense feelings for someone and it's complicated. It's like the greatest and the worst emotions in the world all wrapped up in a Total Confusion Tortilla. It's tough; God knows I know it's tough. But you're not bad for feeling that way and I still love you. It'll ease up after a while."
Dawn looked at her skeptically. "What if it doesn't?"
"Then you and I take it outside and mud wrestle." Seeing Dawn's eyes widen, she hastily went on, "OK, very much not really. If it gets worse, or months go by and it's not getting better, we'll talk it over some more. And we can talk about it whenever you want you. But please don't freak about it, Dawnie," she finished, realizing the breath-taking irony of her telling someone to relax.
Dawn was quiet for a moment, and then looked up suddenly. "Willow, does this mean I'm gay?"
Willow laughed, albeit somewhat nervously. "You know, I left my Lesbian Detection Kit at home." When the younger girl simply looked at her, slight hurt stealing into her eyes, Willow sighed. "I don't know, Dawnie. I mean, I don't know if there's a definite yes or no to that question, at least not now." She suddenly felt woefully inadequate. Me and my stupid ideas-come out here and talk to Dawn about her feelings. I do technology; Tara does emotion. Shit.
She saw that Dawn was still looking at her, though, and she realized that the girl needed her; needed some kind of anchor and confidant. She didn't have to be perfect or omniscient. The realization prompted her to ask, "Do you need to know, right now? I mean, know for sure? Would the label really make a difference in how you act or how you think?"
Dawn considered this for a moment. "I don't know…It just seems like if I am gay, I should know about it."
"Well, yeah, I'm not saying repress it and get married tomorrow because, hello, very much illegal and also yucky. I'm just saying that maybe you don't need to take an oath-any oath-right now. Don't push me over the rail for saying this, Dawn, but you really do have time, you know?"
Dawn sighed the universal sigh of teenage angst. "I know, I know-I have my whole life ahead of me."
Willow cringed at the unintended irony of the phrase. "Well isn't that a heck of a lot better than saying that your life ends tomorrow? That your time's up and you'd better have everything figured out right now because Uncle Death is coming for an extended visit?"
Dawn stared at her, slightly aghast, it seemed. "Jeez, Willow-and have a nice day to you, too. Morbid much?"
"I'm just saying that being a teenager isn't the worst thing in the world, even if it isn't the best. And one of the good things about it is that you don't have to sign up for one life right now if you don't want to."
After a moment, Dawn nodded. "OK, I get that. I'll take my time, even though we both know patience isn't my strong suit."
Willow grinned. "No; that would be your keen mind, or maybe your singing ability."
Dawn shrugged, but Willow could see her smiling slightly. She linked her fingers through Willow's. "Can I ask you for a favor?" she began, tugging Willow back toward the corridor.
"Cast a spell on Anya and make her celibate? Because that would be fun but unethical."
"Don't tell Tara."
Willow hesitated. She didn't like the idea of keeping anything other than a birthday present a secret from her girl, especially something that involved her. On the other hand, she was on a first-name basis with embarrassment and didn't want to make things more difficult for Dawn than they already were.
"Tell you what. I won't bring this up. If she asks about it, though, I won't lie, but I'll tell her to come to you first. How does that sound?"
Dawn nodded. "I can live with that." As they reached the hallway and she turned away from Willow to head back to her room, she asked quietly, "Sure you're not mad?"
Willow grinned, feeling warm and affectionate toward this girl who, like Tara, had such precious little idea just how much was within her. "I'm not mad, Dawn." She hugged her tightly. "But if you look down her blouse I'll gouge your eyes out."
Dawn nodded feebly. "No chest shots. Got it." She lowered her voice suddenly and added, "You're the greatest, Willow. Tara's lucky to have you." And then she darted back down the hallway to her room.
Willow glanced at her watch as she turned toward the vending room. Almost one o'clock. Even a trip to the juice machine gets dramatic on this trip.
*****
"Where'd you get the juice, Sweetie-Tulsa?" Tara's voice was edged with fatigue. She was stretched out on the bed; two candles were lit, one on either stand beside the bed.
"Sorry, Baby-I ran into Dawn and she was pretty upset about today." Willow hoped Tara didn't ask too many questions because she didn't want to lie, especially since she was awful at it.
Tara sat up quickly. "Dawn's upset? Maybe I should talk to her."
"No!" Willow realized that she had practically shouted her directive. "I mean, she was really wiped out by the end of the conversation. She was going to head to bed. Besides," she added, pouring some juice into an ice-filled cup, "you're the one who needs the TLC right now." She carried over the drink and sat down on Tara's side of the bed, running her fingers gently through soft tendrils of gold.
"Totally Licentious Cunnilingus?" Tara smiled, batting her eyelashes with exaggerated coyness.
"Whenever possible," Willow breathed, amazed that even after a day like this, Tara could simply banter with her about sex and Willow was primed and ready to go. I'm like the old Timex commercials used to say-I take a licking and keep on…well, licking.
"How are you, Baby? Really?" She felt her heart squeeze suddenly as she caught full sight of the exhaustion in Tara's eyes.
"How about you take those clothes off and get ready for bed and then come in and ask me that question?" Before Tara had even finished the question, Willow had bounced off of the bed and headed into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. A bare five minutes later, she hastened back to bed, half fearing that Tara would already be asleep and half hoping that she was, if that's what she needed.
But Tara obviously wasn't going gently into any dark night without Willow beside her. Willow slid in under the covers and stretched out her full length against Tara's warm body.
"So let me ask that again-how are you?"
Tara's eyes suddenly glistened in the dark as she pondered the question. "God, Willow-how do I even start to answer that? I feel like my whole world exploded on me in one afternoon." She drew a shuddering breath. "I mean, I thought everything had been resolved on my birthday. And then Donnie shows up and tells me Daddy has demon blood in him. So we head off to Cold Springs where Daddy tells me that he really is a demon, but I don't have to worry because he really isn't my father. Who, by the way, was my uncle; who, by the way, is dead. And the coup de grace: my mother wasn't a saint." Laughter and weeping seemed to dance fitfully together in her voice.
Not for the first time that day, Willow raged against her helplessness to ease Tara's pain. "I can't even imagine it, Baby. It's just too much for you; it's too much for anyone."
Tara looked up at the ceiling, as if discerning some truth among the aging tiles. "Have you ever noticed that that phrase makes no sense? That something is 'too much'?"
As Willow fumbled to apologize, Tara interrupted her. "No, Sweetie; you didn't say anything wrong. I'm just saying that it doesn't really matter if something should be too much. Things still happen however they happen. I mean, life doesn't tap you on the shoulder mid-way through some trauma and ask, 'Is this too much? Because if it is, I'll back off right now.'"
"You're right," Willow murmured. "I just hate watching you go through all of this-not just today, but knowing what you've gone through your entire life. It's so unfair, and I know life isn't fair but that doesn't stop me from wanting it to be, especially where you're concerned." She felt Tara pulling her more tightly into her arms. They held each other in silence for a moment.
When Tara spoke again, her voice was quiet and almost contemplative. "You know, a part of me wasn't surprised. About Daddy, or-goddess, I don't know what to call him right now." She took a deep breath. "Somehow, it just didn't shock me the way I would have expected. It's like it explains some things."
"Such as…?" Willow asked gently.
"Such as him always being so distant from me. Never having anything to say to me, it seemed. There were times when he almost seemed afraid of me, Will, and I know that makes no sense, because there were lots of times when he flat-out terrified me. But-it's like he never knew how to act around me, or what to say to me. And now I find out that he raised me, knowing I wasn't his, but he never told Mama the truth…" She trailed off, tears sliding rapidly down her cheeks now.
"And Mama…oh goddess, Willow; I can't believe she did what she did. I mean, she not only cheated on Daddy, she took Donny with her. He was there, every time they-" Willow watched her gulp back a sob, unable to finish. "Willow, she was my heroine. I knew she wasn't perfect, but I didn't know she was that imperfect. I feel like I don't even know her anymore."
"Tara, that's not true!" Willow was stunned by the force in her voice, but continued. Something told her that of all the revelations that Tara had withstood today, the news of her mother's infidelity was the hardest to bear. "She's still your mother. She's still the woman who told you how wonderful you were, who sewed such wonderful dresses for you and braided your hair and taught you magic. She doesn't have to be perfect for those things to be true." She stopped, out of breath.
Tara looked at her, eyes shining. "But she didn't do those things for Donnie. Nobody did those things for Donnie." Guilt flashed through her eyes, now dark with pain.
Willow fought her own resentment at Donnie, a resentment that made it difficult to feel any compassion for him. "Tara, you don't know that. You don't know which came first, Donnie's surliness-which would make it harder for anyone to bond with him-or your mother's infidelity. You can't know that; no one can. And remember, your mom had post-partum depression after he was born. That wasn't her fault; it wasn't his fault. It was just a bad break, and I know that doesn't make it better, but neither does trying to reach a verdict when you can't get all the evidence."
Heart wrenching at the sight of tears cascading over Tara's face, the drops illuminated by candlelight until they seemed like so many tiny jewels, Willow propped herself up on one elbow and kissed her beloved's soft flesh, drying the wetness with her own fingers and cheeks. I can handle anything except seeing her in pain. Except that that's what she needs from me right now-to be with her and not try to make it all go away. This isn't magic.
Turning slightly, Tara offered herself up fully to Willow's embrace. Crying now herself, Willow held her fiercely. "You're home now, Baby. I'll be your home from now on." She felt Tara nod against her neck.
"Willow, Sweetie-I don't think I've ever been this exhausted." The crying seemed to have stopped for the moment, as Willow gently stroked her hair.
"It's OK, Baby. I mean, of course you're wiped out." She eased down onto her pillow, careful to keep Tara cradled gently within her arms. "Just close your eyes and drift off. I'll keep you safe and warm."
She was surprised and a little disconcerted to see Tara pull back slightly, until she was looking down at Willow with a desperate, aching gaze.
"Willow…I need you to touch me, all over." Her eyes were luminous in the dark.
Willow was taken aback by the words. "You-you want to make love? You feel like that now? Because I'd be more than happy-" She fell silent at the feeling of Tara's fingers on her lips.
"No, not make love; at least, not in the usual sense of the phrase." Her brow furrowed as she fought to make herself understood. "I need you to touch me, bring me back to here, to you. I feel like I've been thrown around, pushed around all day by one person or another. Just going back there, seeing everything as if I were seeing it for the first time. I feel…not me, Willow. I don't know how to explain it, but I feel like a stranger in my own skin." Her gaze became needful, and urgent. "I need you to put your hands on me, all over me. Not sexually, but…" She shook her head, frustration working her lips into a frown. "I don't need you to try to satisfy me. Just…Just touch me, Willow. Please." The last word was whispered, almost pleading.
And Willow finally understood. Nodding, she leaned forward and kissed Tara gently on the full lips, and then began to trace her fingers over the indescribably warm, soft flesh of her beloved's face. She brushed the last vestiges of tears from her cheeks, and leaned over once more to kiss the line that her fingers had drawn.
Moving slowly down over the graceful arc of Tara's neck, Willow's fingers pressed gently into the hollow at the base, feeling the deep thrum of Tara's pulse. She let her fingers wander lower still, stopping to cup the full, heavy breasts into her palms.
"You're mine," she murmured through the choking in her own voice. "Just like I'm yours. Just like I'll always be." She squeezed Tara's breasts once more before trailing her hands gently but firmly over Tara's belly, knowing just how to touch her to avoid tickling her. Then she edged her body slightly lower in the bed, pressing her palms into the firm thighs and down the long legs before sliding back up along the backs of those legs to curve her fingers over Tara's soft, rounded hips.
"No matter where you go, or what you learn, the one constant is me. I will always be here, Tara. Because I'm yours. No one else can ever have me; no one else will ever know what my hands feel like on their flesh. Because I will always belong to you. Just like you belong to me." She saw Tara's eyes glittering in the flicker of candlelight, and wondered how she could breathe in the presence of such beauty.
She ran her fingers over the small of Tara's back, and then up toward the surprising muscles of her shoulders and upper back, squeezing her fingers into the strength that always delighted and satisfied her.
"Do you feel it, Tara? Do you feel yourself coming back to yourself? Coming back to me? Stay with me, Tara. Don't ever leave me. This, right now-this is reality, the only reality that matters. Stay with me always, Tara. We'll make a home and raise children and grow old together and we'll say the hard things that we need to say and we'll laugh more than any two people have any right to and we'll putter around in a garden that grows every herb we need and our grandchildren will always be coming over to our house because we'll spoil them so rotten and they'll climb onto your lap and you'll sing to them in that incredible voice of yours and I'll sit and watch and think once again how lucky I am."
She slid her fingers into the thick silk of Tara's hair. "Stay with me, Tara. Because I'll always stay with you. Because this is home, wherever we are."
And with those words, she pulled her beloved close to her, and the last thing she heard before both of them drifted off onto some other realm was Tara's voice, infinitely soft, saying, "I'm back. And I'm yours."
They arrived back in Sunnydale just before noon the next day. Everyone was tired, but in Willow's assessment, they were also more than a little proud of each other. They could fight among themselves, true; but like any real family, they didn't permit outsiders to mess with one of their own.
As for Willow, she was immeasurably glad that it was Saturday, and she and Tara could relax and do whatever they needed to do-at least until that evening. Buffy had dropped her and Tara off last, and it was soon clear that this wasn't a function of chance.
"You guys," she'd begun nervously, "I know you must be wiped out, but is there any way we could get together tonight? I need your advice on something."
"I'd go with the print dress instead of the pastel," Willow yawned.
"And the Stove Top Stuffing over potatoes," Tara added helpfully.
"OK-thanks, and thanks again. And then, after you've both returned to the Land of Shared Reality, maybe you could help me with something else."
"Sure," Tara smiled. "How about seven? We could order take-out."
"Sounds great." And with that, the two had practically fallen out of the SUV and made their way into Tara's dorm room, where they collapsed into bed and each other's arms and sleep.
*****