Disclaimers/Author's Notes: See Part 1.
Several hours later, they dragged themselves out of bed and back into the showers.
"I bet we have 'Eau de Hot Sex' all over us," Willow had said as she climbed under the pelting spray. She tried not to think of what would happen if she ran into Oz again smelling as she did. Lifting her fingers to her lips before grabbing the bar of soap, she inhaled Tara's scent. If they could bottle this, it would put every coke dealer in the world out of business. Tara was all over her, and it was incredible.
"You want to write an ode to hot sex?" Tara asked, letting the warm water pound softly over her.
"Oh, the hot sex was incredible," Willow agreed, rinsing the shampoo out of her hair. Looking over, she watched the water trickle between Tara's breasts and over her belly, disappearing into the thick tangle of her hair. Tara caught her look, and began slowly rubbing the bar of soap over her breasts. After a moment, she circled the bar lower, down over the curve of her stomach until she slowly parted her own lips and eased her fingers into her folds.
Willow was on the verge of doing something considered extremely inappropriate in decent society when she heard the bathroom door swing open. Two disembodied voices were laughing and speaking in low voices. Looking back at Tara, Willow mouthed, "This isn't over yet."
"I should certainly hope not," Tara murmured with a smile.
They checked any of the spots Willow could imagine Oz going. At first, she hadn't wanted Tara to come with her; not to protect Oz, but to protect Tara. She could see the hurt in the blue eyes, however; even after she explained, Tara was reluctant to part.
"Willow, if we're together, then we're together. I don't mean joined at the hip, although come to think of it, that's pretty hot at times." A quick and very naughty look stole over her face. "I just don't think it's a good idea for you to be out looking around on your own, and if I really am your partner, I want to be the one with you."
Willow sighed, and relented. "I get it. I mean, I certainly don't want you running around solo right now, especially with Oz being...however he is."
The point had proven moot, however: Oz wasn't at Devon's; he wasn't at the Bronze; he wasn't with any of the other Dingoes. After checking everyplace Willow could think of, the two of them called Giles, who told them that no one else had seen him, either.
"The others are coming back here at eight o'clock," he informed them. "More, I suspect, to finish my scones than to hatch a bold new plan."
"Well, we'll head over, too. And on the way, we'll hatch a bold new plan to have you make more scones, OK?"
"Yes, Willow. It is my heart's fondest hope that my contribution to the epic battle against the forces of darkness be my moist, flaky pastries."
"Well, that and your stirring loins. Or did you mean to say 'sterling'? Do you think you have sterling loins?"
"Yes, well, I'll be ringing off now so as to have both hands free with which to plunge sharp objects into my ear-drums such that I will never hear another word that any of you speak ever again."
Promptly at 8:00, Willow and Tara knocked on the ornate wooden door to Giles' home.
"Ooh, jam tarts," Willow exclaimed excitedly, catching the wonderful scent that permeated the small dwelling.
"Evil never rests; why should Betty Crocker?" he remarked dryly, giving Tara an affectionate smile as she moved hesitantly into the living room.
The others arrived almost immediately afterward, though, as Giles had said, no one actually had any new information.
"Maybe he's left town again," Xander suggested, looking at Willow. "I mean, I know you two need to talk, but maybe he just couldn't do it."
Willow tried to sort out her feelings about that particular prospect. On the one hand, she felt like she needed to talk to Oz; there had been no closure the first time he left, and there would certainly be none this time if he had indeed left the fair environs of Sunnydale. On the other hand, she couldn't deny that a part of her just wanted it to be over; didn't want to have the agonizing talk that she knew lay ahead of her and Oz. She felt guilty about this, but it was true: she wanted to enjoy her relationship with Tara; she wanted to spend her time learning more about Tara's body and the incredible hidden rooms in her mind. She wanted to go to movies and talk about books and learn more magic together and wasn't it about time for her to be kissing Tara again, anyway? It had been at least half an hour...
"Well, that would be good, right?" Anya was saying. "I mean, if he comes back around he'll simply rip Tara's throat out and eat her."
"Oh my God, Anya," Willow cried out. "Don't even think about that, much less say it out loud!" She noticed that Tara was looking down at the floor. Was she afraid? Of course she was afraid-she should be afraid.
"I'm just saying that neither of you are on his good side right now, and his bad side has big sharp fangs, claws to rip your chest open, and a tendency to leave his victims eviscerated and partly eaten. Let's face it," she continued, seemingly oblivious to the IMAX expressions of horror that surrounded her. "Willow cheated on a werewolf, and Tara cuckolded him. There's no way that doesn't lead to bad feelings."
"Willow, while I'm loathe to encourage Anya's particular phrasing-indeed, I'm loathe to encourage her in any way-I must confess that she has a point. It would seem to be safer if Oz were in fact out of Sunnydale." Giles looked at her sympathetically.
"Maybe you're right," Willow muttered.
As if reading her mind, Buffy commented softly, "I know it doesn't help the resolution confusion, Will. But some of the alternatives..."
"I know. I mean, there's a part of me that does want to talk to him; well, actually, there's no part that wants to talk to him, because, hello, major guilt and angst and let's face it, I'm very seldom naughty, and did I mention guilt? But I feel like I should talk to him, and apologize that he found out that way. And say goodbye," she added softly, almost as an afterthought.
Tara spoke up suddenly. "But does this conversation even m-matter?" She hurried on, as several faces turned her questioningly. "I mean, it's important...It's v-very important as far as feelings are concerned. It's just that, well, what w-we want doesn't make a difference. Oz is either s-still in town, or he's not." She blushed and looked away.
Willow slid her hand under Tara's and entwined their fingers together. She just has no idea how smart she is. She thinks she just said something stupid.
"You think you just said something stupid, don't you?" Anya asked abruptly. Everyone looked at her in shock, which really, Willow thought, shouldn't be happening after this many gargantuan social offenses on Anya's part.
"What? It's clear she's embarrassed: she looks down, she stutters-"
"Anya, if you don't shut up I'll buy you a rabbit's-fur coat for your birthday," Willow threatened.
Anya's eyes widened in horror. "That's just an awful thing to say! Especially when all I'm trying to say is that Tara really has no need to be embarrassed. She's very smart, and not just about books and magic. You all just act as if it's perfectly understandable that she hide herself away and it isn't. She's as smart as anyone here." As Xander looked at her with a dawning pride, she added, "She's certainly far smarter than Xander." The look of pride hit sundown.
Tara looked up, as if unable to believe what she had heard. "Th-thank you," she said softly. And then, more forcefully, she added, "That was very nice of you."
"Oh, I'm never really nice," Anya replied matter-of-factly. "I'm just the voice of truth in a world of artifice and social convention."
Willow looked at her with something akin to affection. OK, it wasn't closely akin; it was more like a second-cousin kind of akin, but it was easily the warmest she had ever felt toward the ex-demon.
"The awful thing, of course," Anya was saying, "is that Oz walked in on you right after you had become orgasm friends. I mean, he must have smelled your sexual arousal and just-"
"Uh, Ahn? I don't know that this really helps the game plan and it certainly isn't helping your relationship with Willow and Tara," Xander interjected.
"Relationship? Oh, a three-way. Yes, I know, Xander-you told me plenty of times this afternoon you'd love to watch me with them. The whole subject really did give you a zestiness that you haven't shown for awhile," she said, nudging him playfully. She turned to Willow, who by now was thinking how nice it would be if she and Tara could find a nice little home in the country; perhaps a country like Denmark. These people would visit, but not too often.
Xander smiled weakly while Buffy, Riley, and Giles all sat by in a kind of weird fascination. "It's like a train wreck," Buffy muttered. "I can't look away."
"So, even though I like penises, I find you both reasonably attractive; Tara, I couldn't help noticing that you have wonderful breasts. I know Xander can't help noticing them. I would very much enjoy touching them."
"Giles, make them stop," Riley croaked desperately.
"I'm truly sorry," the transfixed librarian murmured, but I'm horrified beyond the capacity for rational discourse."
Finally Willow found her voice, and her gross motor control. "Not that this hasn't been a wonderful conversation, wherein 'wonderful' is defined as 'just about the most heinous, unnatural thing I've ever been cursed to bear witness to in my entire misbegotten life,' but we really should be going." Standing, she glanced down at Tara, who would, she thought, probably never speak again.
"I've made people uncomfortable, haven't I?" Anya seemed truly puzzled by this. "Well, I didn't mean to. Tara, I think you're very smart and I think you should talk up more. And the whole sex thing-I just mean that you should be extra careful because the animal in Oz is very much an animal: when he thinks that his territory is being encroached upon, he gets even more primitive, if that's possible."
Tara looked up at Willow. "She's right, sweetie." The incredible blue eyes were troubled, and Willow wanted to know all of the nuances of that distress. But for the time being, Willow sank back into the couch and helped herself to another jam tart.
Later that evening, as she, Tara, and Buffy walked back to their dorms, Willow felt a small shudder flick its way up her spine, and in its wake left the certainty that Oz hadn't left town.
He's still here. And he's close.
And though she gripped Tara's hand more tightly, and felt the reassuring squeeze of those strong fingers in return, she couldn't help glancing over her shoulder and wondering what it was that moved in the shadows.
Part 6
The three women were quiet for much of the walk back to their dorms. Finally, Willow spoke up.
"I know he wolfed out, and it wasn't even a full moon. And Tara, Baby-thinking about what he could have done to you..." The images filled her mind's eye once more, and she shook her head in utter refusal of the possibilities. "It's just that it feels so wrong to think of Oz as a Big Bad. You guys, we had a Scooby meeting to talk about him, and how dangerous he is right now. And I know we had to, 'cause he is, but there's a part of me that can't help thinking that this is Oz. And that it's just so weird to be thinking about all of this."
"I know, Will. I mean, Oz pretty much set the standard for understatement. I was sort of reminiscing one day last summer, after we took down the Mayor to avert our third apocalypse in three years. Hey," she halted abruptly. "Does it ever seem weird to you that all of our catastrophic show-downs occur in May? It's like it's sweeps time on television or something...Anyway, I was thinking about everything that had happened; how much everything changed that day..." She looked away for a moment; Willow knew she was thinking about one change in particular, a leaving that had never healed. "Anyway," she continued, squaring her shoulders unconsciously, "the winner for 'Most Remarkable Transformation During a Total Eclipse' was the Mayor, hands-down. But Oz, running and shouting and speaking in compound sentences-he was a very compelling runner-up."
"Exactly," Willow replied. "Seeing him that out of control, when it isn't even a wolf-moon...It's just so hard to accept." She looked over at Tara, who had barely spoken since leaving Giles' house. "But I have to accept it, because he's already attacked Tara in broad daylight, and if she hadn't reacted like she did last night, he would have attacked her again."
"And you," Tara said softly, squeezing her hand gently.
"Well, yes, there's that part." Willow managed a small grin; she was relieved to see Tara reflect it.
"Yeah, Tara, I gotta say-nice work on that whole 'Wolf Whisperer' thing," Buffy put in, resting her hand on Tara's back for a brief but affectionate moment. Willow felt her heart lift at the sight: it was so important for her that Buffy welcome Tara as Willow's partner.
"Well, b-back home we had a w-werewolf petting zoo that Mom used to take us to," Tara replied.
"Are you-? No, you're not even remotely serious. Are you?" Buffy's eyes were widened in a conflict between horror and amusement.
"Jeez, Buff-suburban much?" Willow asked, then turned to Tara with a grin. My girl...When she works it, she works it oh-so-well. Then the serious thoughts returned and clamored for her attention. "My point is, he's attacked Tara twice, and I can't even think of her being in that kind of danger again. And yes, I have no real desire to be part of the demon food-chain myself, so I'm not trying to play martyr. I'm just saying that as hard as it is to accept that he has the potential to hurt someone I love, I have to accept it." She realized she'd stopped walking; she was holding fiercely onto Tara's hand, trying to will Tara to see and feel the depth of her alliance. They were together now; a package deal. Her own grief and guilt over Oz's discovery, and its fall-out, couldn't obscure the bright, clear sun flare that was her commitment to Tara.
Tara's eyes met hers, and Willow thought that she could see mists swirling and then clearing from the blue portals. Willow leaned in, just slightly, and whispered, "Nothing is more important than you. No one matters more." She saw, more than heard, Tara mouth the words, "Thank you."
Buffy had drawn to a stop as well, pausing two or three steps away. When they rejoined her, she linked her arm through Tara's. "Don't get jealous, Will. And don't get your hopes up, Tara." She flashed her patented "Sometimes I'm too cute for words" smile.
"Don't worry, Buffy. I prefer redheads."
Willow thought her heart would just about burst, and thought so again when Buffy replied, "Can't say as I blame you where a certain Ms. Rosenberg is concerned, Ms. Maclay."
OK, so I live on the Hellmouth. My first boyfriend turned into a werewolf, mated with another werewolf, and I walked in on them. I've fought and killed creatures that would make Vin Diesel pee his pants. And organic chemistry is tougher than I expected. But right now I am just about the luckiest person I know.
As they approached the small quad that housed both dorms, Buffy said, "Willow, I'm guessing you and Tara want to stay together tonight. How about I walk you two to her dorm and then head back to our room."
Willow felt herself blushing ridiculously. "Well, yeah; I mean, I left some books there, and I do have that calculus exam on Monday, and you can just never be too prepared for calculus, I say; well, actually, you can, I guess, in the sense that you can get so involved in calculus that you miss other things, like, for instance, that you have to go to the bathroom. Not that I've ever done that; I'm just being Hypothetical Girl here, offering various rebuttals to my original statement about the mega-importance of calculus preparation." She trailed off as she saw Buffy and Tara looking at her with the kind of affectionate befuddlement one might bestow upon a new but rather endearing circus oddity.
"Has she always done this?" Tara asked.
"I think Willow's first words were probably something along the lines of, 'Mommy, can I have a drink? Like, I'd really like a mocha, but-hello-infant here, so I'm guessing you're not much on jazzin' up the already hyper baby with some joe, so, hey, a little bitty drink of water would be A-OK with me.'" Buffy grinned at Tara, who in turn looked at Willow with...Oh, that's her Naked Adoration look. I love that look.
"Willow, if you and Tara don't have something better to do on your second night together than study for a math exam, I am going to be seriously disappointed. Have I taught you nothing, my child?"
"I learned at the feet of the Master," Willow intoned. "Uh, not the yucky master, the one whose bones you sorta went cave-man on." She saw Tara grinning at her. "So yes, wise elder, I heed your words: I shall stay with fair maiden and enjoy her many charms."
"Atta girl, Will!" They headed toward Tara's dorm, the exact name of which was difficult to discern. Suddenly, Willow stopped.
"Wait a minute, Buffy. If you walk us back, who's gonna be with you?"
"Willow, I'm the slayer. I go on patrol alone. I walk the streets alone. I admire myself alone. I'll be fine." She tugged on Willow's arm and resumed the homeward march.
"I know; I just wish there was a way for you to have an escort, too. On principle, you know?"
"I got it, Will. You stay here, and let's have Tara walk me back to our room, and then we'll call you, and you can wait until a pizza delivery boy comes to her dorm and then you can ride with him as far as possible, and then you call us with his cell phone, and I'll walk Tara in that general direction, and we'll meet up in San Jose and call a cab. Sound good?"
"Infinitely so! OK, you're right; it just seems unfair that you always have to be Protecto-Girl. Who protects you?"
"Trojans."
"Um, OK. Well. I'm sure they're ribbed for your pleasure. And, hey," she asked, brightening, "how about we just act like those last two sentences were never spoken?"
"Gladly." They reached Tara's dorm. Buffy reached out and hugged Tara. "It's great to see you more, Tara. And hear you more, too," she added, grinning playfully.
She hugged Willow in turn. "Thank you," Willow said quietly.
"Hey-I don't know from Sappho, but I think you've landed a keeper." She bounced down the steps, then turned at the bottom.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
The three women paused, each mulling over the options that remained if Willow and Tara were to follow Buffy's instructions.
"OK, forget that last part."
***
When they reached Tara's room, they quietly but purposefully locked the door and slid the chain into its groove, and then checked to ensure that no windows offered a means of intrusion.
And then they undressed each other and eased gratefully into bed.
Their love-making that night was slower, and gentler, than the heated coupling from earlier that afternoon. It was as if they were gradually realizing that they had time; that this was real, and enduring. Hands stroked with greater leisure; lips lingered over each delightful spot; fingertips wandered and ambled and in general took their own sweet time.
At some point, much later in the night, Willow lowered herself to Tara's mouth, tangling her fingers in the long blond hair and caressing the fine jaw with her thumbs. Her vision trailed down over her breasts and her belly and held Tara's eyes with her own. Tara looked almost ethereal in the moonlit room, eyes half-closed in pleasure as her lips and tongue circled and stroked. Willow watched as a montage of old images suddenly whirled within her mind, pictures of all the creatures who drank of others without their consent; who overpowered and robbed and debased. But now, in this moment, Tara drank from her and Willow gave herself willingly. Tara, vulnerable and bare, had asked and Willow had opened herself to that gentle, immeasurably strong soul. And now she could feel herself pouring her essence into Tara like life-blood. It felt as if she were feeding Tara, who, in both her hunger and her naked offering, fed her in return. This was the thought, and these were the images, that crowded and tumbled through Willow's mind as her back arched, and her fingers clutched more desperately, and she at last spilled everything that Tara had created within her back to its creator.
***
The next morning, they lay tangled up in each other, caressing away the last vestiges of embarrassment and self-consciousness. They enjoyed the leisurely discovery of each other's particular marks and scars as if they had finally been given the last chapter of a mystery that they had instantly loved but been unable to complete until now.
"You know, for a demon fighter, you don't have that many scars," Tara commented as she kissed her way across Willow's back.
"Well, you know...I operate in more of a consultant capacity. I'm less involved in the daily production of dead creatures of the night."
"I dunno, Sweetie...Maybe some of Buffy's healing powers have sort of rubbed off on you...Oh, here's one," she exclaimed, lightly touching a small, uneven stretch of slightly raised flesh along Willow's inner arm.
"Lemme see...Oh, yeah-that's from a Noxoneus demon."
"I thought they were all noxious."
"No, a Noxoneus demon. Hate her...She's really good at disguising herself, so you don't know that you're in for a world of hurt until she's already ripped your heart out."
"Oh my God, Baby-and she got hold of you?" Tara looked aghast. "What kind of godless mutant enemies do you have to fight, anyway?"
Willow tried to look nonchalant, although she was secretly thrilled and flattered that Tara was making all with the doting, worried lover over her. She tried to think of other scars that might pique Tara's attention.
"Oh, and this one? Up on my shoulder? That was when we went up against the assassins sent to kill Buffy and one of them slammed me into a wall."
Tara leaned forward and kissed each scar gently, then slowly traced a soft cheek over the wounded flesh.
"Anybody tries to rough you up now, they gotta go through me," she said defiantly.
"Uh, Tara-I thought you said you weren't much for the fighting," Willow questioned hesitantly.
"Or with the swimming, as you thought at the time. No, I'm not, not typically. But if it's somebody I love..." She shifted so that she could look Willow directly in the eye. "If it's you, I will rip them limb from limb."
The image of Tara fighting, given her gentle nature, would have been amusing had Willow not heard her voice and seen the look in her eyes. Anyone who messes with our children will be so dead, Willow thought suddenly.
Our children...Huh...Yep, I can see it.
Aloud, she said, "What about you? What rough beasts have left their mark on you?"
Tara greeted the question with a half-smile, and then pulled her left leg out from under the cover and pointed to a dim lattice-work of lines that looked something like a number sign as rendered by a two-year-old on acid.
"This," she began solemnly, "is the work of a Schwinn demon. I remember it well...red, with glowing silver spokes...I mean, spikes."
"Ooh," Willow breathed, wide-eyed. "I've heard they're almost impossible to kill."
"I tamed it, eventually," Tara said in a tone of nonchalant bravado.
"And what about this one?" Willow asked, looking at an imperfectly-healed zigzag along Tara's shin.
"Oh, yes...The Lady Schick demon. We wrestled fiercely...She attacked me in my bathtub."
"But you vanquished her?" Willow asked in her most deeply impressed voice.
"Only after she had stripped away what was rightfully mine..."
Pulling back the covers and peering closely at Tara's upper thighs, Willow could barely detect three roughly horizontal lines on both.
"And what demon caused this wound, m'lady?"
Tara fell silent. Willow looked up at her questioningly.
"Dad."
Willow felt all of the air leave the room, leave her body. She swallowed thickly against the rage and sorrow that roared over and through her. She knew that Tara's father had been what Tara had called "strict." She knew that Tara's father had been what Willow called "a bastard."
"Oh Baby..." What could she possibly say to such a thing? Instead, she focused her attention on tracing the lines with infinite gentleness.
"Dad came from the 'Spare the rod, spoil the child' school of parental guidance," Tara said, trying to smile. "He caught me looking through Mom's magick books one summer when I was nine. He said..." She took a deep breath, as if trying to remind herself that she was in bed with her lover, and not standing, shaking, before a hard, angry man who was starting to unbuckle his belt. "He told me he wouldn't stand for such foolishness; that it all stopped right then. I was wearing shorts, and he just let me have it." Willow could feel a slight tremble in Tara's body, but held herself still, wanting to let Tara get this out. To her surprise, the next thing that flashed across Tara's face was a sad smile.
"As you can see, he left marks. Mom was at the grocery store, and I guess he must have realized that he'd gone too far." Willow refrained from asking how many lashes would have been just far enough. "He told me to change into pants and not tell Mom about it. God, I can still feel the denim scratching over the welts."
This time, Willow felt herself trembling.
"Anyway, I didn't say anything to Mom when she got back. That night, I took my bath and tossed my jeans in the wash hamper. The next day was laundry day; I hadn't realized how much I'd bled, but there was blood all over the upper legs. Mom came in and asked what had happened. I tried to make up some story about tripping over the barbed-wire fence out back, but she knew. And her face-I had never seen that look in her eyes before, Willow. I thought for a minute she was mad at me. But she hugged me and looked at me real closely and told me that nothing I could ever do meant that I deserved to be hurt, by a fence or anything else. And she hugged me again, and that was it. But oh, boy...I still don't know exactly what she said to him, or what she did, but he looked like a man on Death Row for a long, long time. And around Donnie and me, she barely said two words to him for, goddess, it must have been months. Dad looked just miserable, and I was worried he'd make me pay for it later. But he never laid a hand on me again. Even after she died. I think he half-feared she would come back and haunt him if he ever hurt me again."
She fell silent, but ran her fingers through Willow's hair and met her gaze with a look that no teenager should be familiar with. Willow became aware of the tears shimmering in her eyes, and lowered her head slowly until they splashed over her lashes and onto the lacerations. She moved her head slowly from one leg to the other, spilling her tears onto her beloved's wounds. Finally, she kissed the soft flesh carefully and rested her head. If I ever see that bastard, I'll speak on behalf of Tara's mom. I'll remind him what happens to people who hurt Tara.
After a few moments of silence, Tara tugged gently on Willow's arms and pulled her up to lay close to her. "Thank you; for listening, and...and wanting to make it all better, but not thinking you could with some Hallmark card phrase."
"I would do anything for you, Tara. Do you know that?"
"Yes, sweet love, I do." They stretched out in each other's arms and lay silently for a long time, each independently giving her thanks to the goddess for safety and for salvation.