Disclaimers/Author's Notes: See Part 1.
Good to be back in town, even if it was 4am. Nice gig-Devon had the IQ of a George Bush Pez dispenser, but the boy could sing. Long drive back but worth it. Missing her big-time. He knew he was lucky. Knew it could have gone the other way, and he'd have had no one to blame but himself. Aching, suddenly-aching to see her, just to kiss her good night and try to find some new way to thank her. A quick stop-in; no intentions or expectations. Strong feelings-always caught him by surprise, but so good. Willow. Need to see her.
"Oh God, Oz. Oz, I'm so sorry. Please-"
Door's unlocked. Guess there's a first for everything. Willow's scent-like nothing in the world. But- More here, too; another one. He knew that scent. No; no, just friends. Visiting.
"Oz, please don't. Don't change; you can stop this-"
But that particular scent-Willow, aroused and then sated. He knew it, but it had never been so strong. Not with him.
"Oz, you've stopped it before. Please, Oz, fight it-"
Oh, God, no...No, she-his Willow, with...with her. Everything turning, red and hot inside. Thoughts, blinking and slowing...Fury, frenzy-changing. No stopping.
"Oz, it's not her fault; it's me-I did this. Please don't hurt her, Oz. Oh God, please don't hurt her-"
And she begs for the other one's life. That's all that matters to her. She begs him to spare the one she loves. The one she...
Even as he spoke, his Other howled from deep inside and severed any voice of restraint. Oz receded to utter oblivion; the Other became the Only.
~~~~~
Tara had first stirred at the sound of Willow's groggy voice. When that voice suddenly thinned, became cut-glass clear with terror, she pulled herself abruptly to wakefulness. Even before her eyes adjusted to the dark, she knew there was someone else in the room.
But not a person...or no longer a person, perhaps.
She knew that form. She knew that changing and the rage that fueled it. She knew what he meant to do, because he had meant to do it before. But that time Willow had been safe, studying unawares. Now he would take Willow, too.
No. He wouldn't. She wouldn't let him.
~~~~~
For Willow, the spasm of sorrow that she felt for Oz was eclipsed almost immediately by the knowledge of what would happen. He would kill them both, in his rage and despair. And because she was Willow; because her capacity to love so far exceeded what most people could understand, her next thought was to protect Tara, at any cost.
"...don't hurt her, Oz. Oh God, please don't hurt her." Maybe she could fight him off long enough to let Tara get out the door, maybe even get some help.
She could feel Tara moving to sit beside her, leaving the meager protection of her own small frame to stare openly, almost defiantly, at the creature that emerged before them.
"Tara-Baby, when he attacks, he'll focus on one thing, at least at first." Willow's voice was a strained hiss. "I want you to-"
The straining, shifting features trembled slightly, eyes flaring briefly.
He hears you. Tara's voice came from within her own mind.
Tara? Is that you? Willow's cocked eyebrow provided the punctuation mark to her inner query. Eyes never leaving the creature in front of her, she saw that the transformation was almost complete, and tried desperately to assemble all the pieces of information into some mosaic that didn't include horrific bloodshed.
Yes. I think we can get out; both of us, OK?
Tara, please...If anything happens to you-
Nothing's going to happen to either of us.
OK. I just-Wow...I can't believe we're speaking all telepathic-like, you know? Because I've always wondered-
Willow-Cujo, 12 o'clock. Big dog. Unhappy. Focus.
The claws had fully emerged, the jaw was now grotesquely extended; there was no evidence of the gentle musician who had given Willow a witch Pez last year. She heard a deep rumble from within its throat and watched as its head wrenched back one final time before it stilled, fixing them both with a yellowish leer.
Think of safety, Willow; think of protection. Think of the greatest safety you've ever known; some moment when you knew that all of the forces of all bad things couldn't touch you. Hold my hand, and remember that moment.
What will you do?
I'm in charge of puppy training.
Tara, no! Not if it means-
I told you-we're both getting out of here. Please, Willow-trust me.
The words rippled an echo inside of her, and Willow found herself linking her fingers with Tara's and closing her eyes. Closing her eyes, and thinking of trust, and safety.
It wasn't a mother's lap that she remembered, nor was it a father's warm embrace after a scary dream. It wasn't Buffy saving yet another day; it wasn't Giles looking at her with parental reassurance.
***I'd have to be your anchor; you know, keep you on this plane...I trust you.***
She saw herself deep within the Nether Realm, Ayala granting her access but waiting, hoping to keep Willow there for her own. It could have happened so easily...If Tara had faltered even once, lost concentration; lost Willow within her own mind. But she hadn't. She had breathed for Willow, held on for Willow. Would unthinkingly have traded herself for Willow had Ayala demanded it. In a short lifetime that had known more blinding terror, seen more cruelty and capricious fate than most people could even envision, it was one moment when she could so easily have been lost that she remembered as her safest. Because of Tara.
When she opened her eyes, her vision was dimmed by a golden shimmering that seemed to hover around her. She knew she was in danger, and yet she felt almost preternaturally calm-even when her eyes adjusted and she saw that Tara was kneeling between Oz and herself; one hand remaining linked with Willow's, and the other extending toward the wolf.
Some dim part of her brain wanted to scream; wanted to break the connection and wrest herself out of this complacency, but she felt too peaceful. It was one step short of sluggish; it was the most perfect feeling of well-being she had ever known.
And so she watched with a loving fascination as Tara sank to her knees, hand extended, and slowly arched her head back and offered her throat.
This couldn't be. She had to stop it; Tara had said they would both make it out. But here was Tara, naked, unprotected; shielding her and baring her throat to be taken. It was a gesture of ultimate submission, and yet strangely, it held no weakness. If anything, there was an almost heedless courage about it.
The wolf darted two steps closer, tongue now lolling out of its mouth in an obscene picture of hunger.
Willow couldn't move. Even while one part of her mind screamed out with despair and anguish, the rest of her being sat in abject calm and peace. All she could do was hold Tara's hand, and if Oz came after her next, then so be it...But she wouldn't let go of Tara's hand.. She would never let go, just as Tara had refused to let Willow slip away in the Nether Realm. Willow would hold her until her own breath was taken from her.
Through the haze, she watched the surreal drama in front of her-the most primitive, bestial creature she had ever encountered, hovering over the most gentle, wise being to grace her life. Her Tara. This woman had chosen Willow just as surely as Willow had chosen her, and the knowledge edged its way insistently into her awareness. This woman had chosen her, and now chose to save her.
It was that knowledge that finally began to push through the film that seemed to cover and shield her. She had to move, had to do something-
Summoning up all of her force of will, she had begun to unfold her legs from under her when she was stopped by the picture in front of her.
The wolf halted, seemingly confused; and then it slunk back, away from Tara. It shook its head-once, and then again. Still Tara remained, unmoving, throat proffered. The wolf edged forward again, hesitantly this time, and growled angrily. It brought its leering face close to Tara's, lips pulling back in a grotesque grin, teeth bared, prepared to rip and sever. And still Tara sat, in perfect quietude, as though here only in body, her mind far away in some idyllic place. But...her body-she's so defenseless. Please, goddess, I can't lose her. The wolf sniffed, tentatively, mouth only a hair's breadth from Tara's slender throat. But then it shook its head again, and edged back once more. It stared hungrily at Tara's pale, naked form; suddenly, a low whine echoed plaintively from its own throat. Willow thought that the sound held almost infinite bewilderment, and grief.
Willow thought that an hour must have passed, with the three of them frozen like that, although she would later realize that it could only have been a matter of seconds. Finally, a last howl ripped from its heart; and then it turned, and hurled itself out the door and down the hallway. Willow dimly heard the sound of glass breaking as the wolf threw itself out of the window.
Only then did Tara relax her pose. Her hand dropped, with a slight tremble, and her head spun to face Willow, who had sunk onto the floor beside her.
"Dammit, Tara," Willow managed, through her tears. "You could've been-I could have lost you."
"Baby, no...No, I knew that if you were anchored to a safe place, and I was anchored to you-"
"If you were anchored to me?! You were half anchored to me, and half anchored to a werewolf! What in the goddess' name were you doing? You weren't going to let me play hero, but you can just slip me a mental Mickey and trundle off to-"
"You think that's what it was? You think I put you to 'sleep' so I could rescue the fair maiden? Not that you aren't fair, of course...But I needed you to be in a safe place, mentally, so that we could be safe. I knew about a soothing spell, chanted within the person's own mind. But it only works if the creature who threatens you feels no threat from you. Think, Willow; there really wasn't enough time to give you a lesson and say, 'Now-you try it.'"
Willow looked up at Tara, who appeared to glisten and dance through her tears.
"Oh, God, Tara...If I had lost you-I can't even imagine...It would just be the stupidest, worst thing in the world for you to be taken away from me. The powers that be would have to be total idiots to let you die."
"It's OK, Baby. We're both OK. We're going to have some major emotional clean-up to do tomorrow, but right now-we're safe, we're together, and did I mention we're safe?"
Willow finally let herself breathe with something approximating normality. She looked up, a tiny half-smile curving across her lips. "Hey-Nice job on the puppy training."
Tara grinned with what looked suspiciously like pride. "Well, at least he didn't go on the rug."
Part 4
Half an hour later, they sat quietly in Willow's bed, sipping Swiss Miss Instant Cocoa (with mini-marshmallows). "Definitely more mini than marshmallows," Willow mused absently. "I mean, isn't there some kind of quality control board that specifies the minimum diameter of a marshmallow? But it couldn't be too big, 'cuz then it'd be a regular marshmallow, or even a maxi-marshmallow."
"I dated someone named 'Maxie Marshmallow' once," Tara noted suddenly.
"What? No way!"
"OK, I didn't. I was just teasing."
"I should most certainly hope so, because that's just-"
"Her last name was actually 'Pad.'"
"Oh. Well that's still pretty weird. I mean-" She stopped abruptly. "Oh. You're teasing again. Aren't you?" This last bit was said somewhat hopefully.
"Yes, I'm teasing. I just thought that maybe we could pull ourselves away from the admittedly wonderful distraction of hot chocolate and talk about what happened."
"About what happened?" Willow echoed questioningly.
"Yeah. I'm thinking mostly about the part where Oz walked in on us curled up in bed and turned into a werewolf and tried to kill us both."
"Oh yeah-that part." Both women remained silent for a few seconds, reluctantly playing the scene back in their respective minds. Finally, Willow gave a small sigh.
"I know. I know we have to talk about all of that but...I just wanted our next conversation to be about what happened before we were so rudely interrupted. Specifically, I wanted to talk about how wonderful it was and when we might be able to do it again and whether or not we even needed to leave this room at all today because we could order take-out and basically spend all day making love and I really should take a breath at this point in this sentence but I seem to have forgotten how to breathe so-"
Tara leaned over and rested two fingers across Willow's mouth, her lips curling into a soft smile. "In through the nose," she coached gently. As Willow obediently inhaled, she caught the lingering scent of her own wetness. Her belly gave a sudden, eminently enjoyable twist. She saw Tara looking at her intently.
"So, from what you just said-the part before the respiration lesson-it's s-safe to assume that it w-would be OK to kiss you again?"
Willow recognized the seriousness behind the joke; she knew that Tara really did want an answer. She pulled herself out of her inner spiral and brought both hands to Tara's face, smoothing back her hair and feeling the soft skin warm under her palms.
"Tara, listen to me. The days of you waiting while I figure out what I want are over. I've figured it out; I think I had actually figured it out before. I was just so caught up in trying to do what I thought was best; what hurt the fewest people. And yes, I mean 'hurt' partly in the literal sense, as in, keeping Oz from going all 'Werewolves of Sunnydale.' But you suffered in that because you wouldn't..." Willow fumbled for words, trying to resist her usual "Twelve Monkeys at Twelve Typewriters" approach to expressing herself. Tara just waited patiently. "You suffered because you didn't ask anyone to help you carry your pain. You never begged me to choose you; you never talked about how much you were hurting. You gave me space and time and you carried all that heartache yourself." She stopped, feeling tears shimmer in that just-before-spilling place. She drew a deep breath. "You really are remarkable, Tara Maclay."
"Willow, I'm not a saint. I w-was praying you'd choose me. It's not like I was sitting back and saying, 'Whatever the goddess deems fit-so be it.' Please don't think I w-wasn't pulling you in my direction with all my heart and soul."
"Well I should hope so," Willow replied rather abruptly. "I should hope that the person I'm in love with isn't sitting in her room going, 'Well, you know, it would be nice; but I'm certainly not going to get myself all worked up about it.' But you were pulling me toward you with your heart, not guilt or pressure. That's what I responded to; that's what matched the song in my own heart. And having given such powerful oratory, can I ask why you're grinning so-what's the word-dopily?"
"I'm sorry. I just didn't really hear anything you said after calling me the person you're in love with." Tara was grinning very...dopily.
"Oh, well, good...Because right after that part, I said, 'And she'll rub my back every night until we're old and gray.'"
"You got it. Now...Let's revisit that carte-blanche kissing part." As Tara's soft lips covered her own, Willow realized for the first time since Oz's departure how terrified she'd actually been. How close she'd come to losing Tara just as she'd truly discovered her. Without thinking, she pressed Tara closer to her and felt a small shudder work its way along her spine.
Tara pulled back briefly, her eyes holding Willow's with a question. "Baby? What is it?"
"Oh, just flashing back to that whole post-coital werewolf attack." She allowed Tara to pull her closer, turning so that she could look up at Tara while being cuddled against her breasts. Oh, my...OK, that'll take a girl's mind off of the scary stuff. She grazed her hand up over Tara's collarbone and brushed her cheek again. "I mean, I know the French call an orgasm 'la petite mort.' So what exactly would dying immediately after an orgasm be called? 'La petite mort as warm-up for la grande honkin' mort?'"
"Yeah, sweetie; I think that's what I learned in Honors French." Tara smiled indulgently down at her.
"OK, now you're just pacifying me." Willow felt as if she were hosting this year's Emotion Expo in her head and heart. On the one hand, she was horrified at what had just happened, and hated the knowledge that Oz, wherever he was, had to be in excruciating pain. On the other hand, she was nestled up against Tara's wonderfully naked form, those long, graceful fingers playing softly through her hair, and she found that she just couldn't stop by the Anguish Exhibition for too terribly long.
"Willow, I know you feel bad about Oz; about him finding out this w-way. It's OK to talk about it."
Willow trailed her fingers down Tara's arm, laying protectively over her. "Well, I do; I mean, I definitely do. I remember how it felt to find him and Veruca there, and I knew even then that it wasn't about love, or him wanting to leave me for her. But this...God, Tara, he knew. I mean, obviously he knew that we were together, that we had made love." She felt her heart give a little half-gainer at hearing the words come out of her mouth. "But I think he also knew-I think he knew that it was love, and that I had chosen you. I think he knew right then that I belong to you." She shifted and sat up so that she could look Tara in the eyes. She could feel herself falling into the intensity of her emotions, and she needed the endless depths of blue to catch her. She saw Tara gazing at her with more love than she ever thought she would see in anyone's eyes, at least anyone who was looking at her.
"Oh, Baby." Willow could see Tara struggling with her own thoughts. "You talked about me risking my life, but I heard you, Willow...I heard you begging Oz not to hurt me. I just can't-I mean, I can't even tell you what that did to my heart. And what it does to me now, just thinking about it." She leaned gently into Willow, closing her eyes and drawing in a deep breath.
"Tara, I just-I didn't even think about it, really. It was just the most important thing in the world right then. It's like you were the only person on-stage in my mind. Everything else was just a prop." Willow wrapped her arms around Tara and buried her face in the graceful curve of her neck. They rocked like that, gently, for several minutes.
Finally, an random thought flew into Willow's head and offered some much-needed comic relief. She could feel herself start to giggle.
"OK, pull me up onto the Clue Train. What's so funny?" Tara's eyes were rimmed lightly in red, but still held the dancing light that always drew Willow toward her so trustingly.
"Well, I was just thinking; about the two of us, each so determined to save the other. I mean, I'm telling Oz to rip my throat out, not to hurt you; and then you've helped me anchor to a safe spot and suddenly you're on your knees saying, 'No, no, take me instead.' And I was just about to pull myself out of the safe spot, at which point I would have no doubt pushed you out of the way and probably just thrown myself directly into his mouth. God, maybe we just confused him so much that he ran away to think it all over."
She hoped Tara wasn't hurt or offended by her comment. She knew how readily Tara had offered herself as supplicant, as sacrifice if necessary. She hoped Tara knew how readily she had been willing to do the same. She was relieved to hear Tara's shy laughter.
"Oh, God...It's like-It's like an afternoon talk show. 'Today, on Jerry Springer: Women Who Fight To Be Sacrificed Before Anyone Else.' But who else would be on the panel?"
"Well, I think Buffy has to be on there. And Xena. That girl puts the 'no bull' in 'noble.' And if we have her, we have to have Gabrielle, too. One won't come without the other."
There was a brief silence while both women pondered the visual implications of Willow's last sentence.
Finally, Tara spoke up. When she did, there was palpable regret in her voice for broaching the topic. "Will, do you think Oz is a danger to anyone tonight? Besides us, I mean?"
Willow furrowed her brow in thought. "No, I really don't. I mean, I can't know that for sure; but I have this strong feeling that he de-wolfed pretty quickly. He hasn't even come close to changing for months now, or so he said when he got back. So...I don't know, maybe I'm trying to convince myself it'll be all right. But still...I just have this feeling that once he was away from us, he changed back. Besides, it's almost light out, so that would speed up the reversal."
Both of them were quiet for a moment, recalling a sunny day two weeks ago when Oz had metamorphosed right in front of Tara, because of what he smelled on her. And that had been so mild, compared to the scents he would have picked up tonight. Finally, Willow sighed.
"We should probably call a Scooby meeting for this morning, if we can round everyone up."
"You know, I've always wondered exactly how you call a Scooby meeting. I mean, is there a secret phone in the Scooby cave? Do you use carrier pigeons? Send a Candy-gram?"
"No, none of the above. Our preferred method is to call each other up and convey some sense of the impending disaster through dark humor and wry understatement."
"Impressively literate. Can I listen in when you call?"
"Sure, but I may not be totally on my game. Performance anxiety and all."
Tara gave a crooked smile and ducked her head slightly. "That's hard to believe. I mean, after last night, I can't imagine you having any anxiety about your...performance."
Willow felt that same twisting sensation deep within her belly. Though she blushed, she also felt secretly relieved. She had wondered if she would know what to do, but when push came to shove (so to speak), their dance had seemed to choreograph itself. She knew that lust could take a couple a long way towards making their first encounter a hot one, but she also couldn't help but compare last night to her first time with Oz. He had been so tender, and so considerate (especially in light of the fact that the Mayor was planning on eating them all like so much popcorn the next day). And it had felt good, both physically and emotionally. But the abandon that she had felt with Tara; this sense that she had just been released into the biggest and best candy store in the Northern Hemisphere...all of that felt specific to the two of them.
She saw Tara tilt her head slightly, and grinned at her self-consciously. "Just thinking about how good it feels to know it felt good to you, because you felt so good to me. It's just a good feeling, you know?"
Tara smiled at her with something akin, Willow suspected, to naked adoration. "Willow, I've never known anyone who could use the same three words as the building blocks for fifteen separate sentences." She stifled a yawn. "It's a gift, you know."
Willow shifted so that they could ease back down into bed. "I know you're a gift to me."
"Sorta like that," Tara replied softly, and blushed. Once they were nestled under the covers again, Willow reached over and set her alarm to seven o'clock. Then she turned and faced Tara, running her thumb over the full lower lip before leaning in and just barely pressing her lips into Tara's. Suddenly she felt almost reverent about this woman she loved, who loved her so intuitively and so incredibly well.
"I know this was terrifying, and I do hurt for Oz. But Tara-the biggest part of me is just so thankful we found each other, and so thankful we're both safe now." She felt Tara's lips brush over her forehead.
"I know, my love. I know." And though it wasn't the most comfortable position, neither one could bring herself to shift and turn her back to the other, so they spent the next hour and a half facing each other, dozing in and out of a turbulent but insistently erotic sleep.