Disclaimers/Author's Notes: See Part 1.
Later in the afternoon, Tara sent Willow back to her room.
"Hey-trying to get rid of me? You got some leather dyke comin' round to take you a spin on her motorcycle?" Oh, wow, Tara in a leather jacket, straddling a Harley. What's my name again?
"Hardly, oh most wonderful Willow," Tara replied breezily. "I just know that all of your books are in your room and, more importantly, you should spend at least a couple of hours with Buffy. She's being incredible, and we want to reinforce that good behavior. Besides, we don't have to pack the U-Hauls just yet."
"Lesbian humor?"
"Don't worry, you'll get the manual and the video-tape next week."
The kiss at the door was a slow, delighted one, accompanied by a promise to see each other in a few hours.
Back in her room, Willow's first action was to sweep Buffy into her arms. "This is National 'Love Buffy Summers' Day," she announced. "Except that it's really more of a Sunnydale thing."
"I'm deeply honored," Buffy replied as she returned the hug, "but I would have thought that this would be 'Love Tara Maclay' Day."
"Oh, every day is 'Love Tara Maclay' Day," Willow assured her. "But you share top billing on this glorious Sunday afternoon."
"This calls for mochas," Buffy announced, grabbing her windbreaker and propelling Willow out the door.
"Does anything not call for mochas?" Willow inquired half an hour later, as they sipped the frothy goodness and rejoiced in the power of love.
"Hmm...Principal Snyder didn't call for mochas. He called for oil-of-peppermint enemas."
"Ouch with the ouchiful ouchiness," Willow grimaced. "He also called for being eaten by the former Mayor who underwent a metamorphosis that was way out of Kafka's league."
"Yeah...too bad he couldn't have had that enema first."
"So, you like Tara, right? And I know that's kind of a rhetorical question; I mean, she's my girlfriend and I'm pretty obviously a smitten kitten here, so what are you gonna say-'Willow, I think Tara's a Gorgon'? But I really do wanna know what you think, 'cause you're my best friend and I think I'll just take a sip of my mocha now."
"Remember back in junior high, when you last drew a breath?" Buffy smiled at her affectionately and went on. "Here's the scoop, Will: I don't know Tara that much, but everything I know about her so far makes me want to know her better. And yeah, part of that is her being your girlfriend so of course I want to get to know her because she's so important to you. But she's also...She's deep, Will; you only have to be around her for a little bit before you realize that. I mean, we're all so damn verbose and so eager to jump in and show how clever we are, but I have this sneaky feeling Tara may be the sharpest one of us all; especially about people, I think, even though she's so shy." She paused thoughtfully. "I feel like there are all these hidden rooms to her, and I'm willing to bet they're pretty great rooms."
Willow stared at her. "Wow, Buffy...Are you in love with Tara, too?"
"Uh, no. I just take very close notice of the people my best friend falls in love with. And I like what I see here."
"Oh God, Buffy...If you only knew how much that meant to me. I mean, I know people will accept Tara; it's just...I don't know, that word has such a tricky little twist to it."
"And now I must ask for definitions."
"Well, imagine that you were talking about Riley; and you were telling me all about how wonderful he was, and how he made you feel, and all the hopes you felt just by saying his name out loud, and I looked at you and said, 'Well, I accept that.' I mean, it doesn't exactly inspire you to entrust me with every detail, does it?"
"No, it doesn't," Buffy replied slowly. "I get your point. I mean, I remember thinking when I was with Angel that it sure would be nice to think that someone was actually happy for me, not just tolerating him for my sake. And I remember that you were the one who did that; the one who felt happy for me. Even though you were worried about what might happen, because of our, um, age difference, it was never about judging him. That meant...it meant everything to me, Willow."
And then they looked at each other and exchanged the smiles of two people who have seen the very best and worst in each other and wouldn't exchange a minute of any of it for a million dollars. That is, they exchanged the smiles of best friends.
Shortly after they returned to their dorm room, Willow found her eyes inevitably wandering to her watch or to the Wonder Woman clock on the wall. Could she call yet? A phone call would be fine, certainly. Right? Maybe she should wait another half-hour. But what was so special about a half-hour? It was just thirty minutes. No different, really, from twenty-nine minutes or twenty-eight minutes or-hey-thirteen minutes, for that matter.
"For K. D. Lang's sake, Will, call the girl." Willow looked up to see Buffy looking at her with amusement.
"Just to say hello, you know? I mean, a girl's gotta do what a girl wants to do...or something like that." Grinning not unlike a Cheshire cat, she picked up the phone and punched in the numbers she'd memorized so quickly.
After a few seconds, she got Tara's answering machine. Conscious of Buffy standing nearby-and ready to lampoon-she garbled, "Uh, hey Baby. It's me. Um, Willow. Does anybody else call you 'Baby'? I hope not; I mean, I hope that doesn't sound all Jealous-Girl or anything, but-OK, the tape's gonna run out. Um, I just called to say that...I love you."
She hung up and sighed with relief to see Buffy hanging clothes in the closet. Looking more closely, however, she saw the muscular shoulders bouncing up and down in silent, staccato laughter.
"OK, I know. I got it something awful."
Buffy turned to face her, eyes sparkling. "No, Will; you got it something good."
Twenty minutes later, Willow tried her again. This time, the message was shorter: "Hey Tara; it's me, your love-struck girlfriend again. Um, give me a call when you get in, OK?"
She frowned slightly as she hung up the phone. "She didn't say anything about going out. We ate brunch in her commons. I wonder where she is?"
"Ah, yes...the infamous 'If I know not where my beloved is, surely the world stops spinning' phase of love."
Willow glared at her. "It certainly doesn't stop spinning. It just gets a little cranky."
"I hear ya...I'm going to get a bagel and juice; I'll be right back."
Another thirty minutes passed; still Tara hadn't phoned. And gradually, across the span of that time, the humor and the teasing ebbed away, like the figures in those hidden perception puzzles, until her fear stood out in bold relief. Then she turned to Buffy and said, "I think I should go over there. It's been dark for almost an hour. This just feels..."
Buffy looked at her quietly. "You're really worried?"
"Yeah. And...yeah."
"Then I'm coming too. That way I can give Tara another piece of dirt about you, OK?" But the laughter was muted as they headed out their door.
Moments later they were climbing the steps to Tara's room. They knocked and waited anxiously at the door. Neither tried to make any jokes.
When Tara didn't answer, Buffy tried the door. It opened easily. She walked in, Willow on her heels. Tara wasn't there.
What was there was an overturned waste-basket, and books and papers lying in the floor, and a can of soda spilled on the rug.
But Tara...Tara wasn't there. And Willow was aware of this, above all else, as she felt her legs give way and she slid to the floor.
~~~~
Talk.
That was all he wanted to do. Just talk.
He could control himself; he knew it. All that time in Nepal; all that time with the monks. Life didn't always go how you wanted it to. You didn't always get a vote, or the final vote. But you did get to choose how you reacted; how you dealt. You got to choose whether you'd be the person you said you wanted to be.
Not that he could ever pretend he didn't have the wolf in him. He always would. But he did have a choice about whether it lived inside of him, as part of him; or whether it ruled him.
But that was the bitch of it, wasn't it? Now that he knew he had the choice, he had no excuse. He couldn't just kill anyone who threatened him and say it was the wolf.
That was good, though-right? He didn't want to kill anybody now. Not even...her. The one who took Willow away-
He couldn't think that way. That way led to the changing; mutating into the creature whose only instinct was to rip and devour and destroy.
There didn't have to be a bad guy in this scenario, or a bad girl, either. He had known Willow still felt...that she still thought about her, the other one-
Her name was Tara. He needed to be able to say the name. He had practiced saying it. He didn't have to change. Willow loved him, but not the way she used to. Now she loved Tara.
Now she loved Tara. And Tara was the one who touched her and kissed her and made her body respond like...He had smelled it, how her body must have reacted to the other one's mouth and fingers; not like anything he had ever smelled on her after he had touched her. What had they done that made her entire body radiate such satisfaction?
Oh God-the rage...So white-hot he could taste his own fury; harsh, and metallic.
He didn't want to change. He didn't have to change. He wouldn't change.
He'd find Willow and say he was sorry; and then he would say goodbye. He'd do it during the day, and hope that it provided some little bit of immunity from the change. He'd do it in a public place...But that hadn't stopped him before, not when he saw her. When he saw Tara.
Tara. Willow had chosen her.
He didn't have to change. He wouldn't change.
Why not just leave? Why risk it? Because he didn't have to change. He knew that. He could stop it. He would prove it to himself; and to her, to Willow, too; so that her last picture of him wasn't as some slavering beast, but as Oz. He would show her that he was still in there. She would see the person she had fallen in love with.
And then he'd leave.
So he went to Willow's room, but no one was there.
He knew where she probably was.
He didn't have to change. He wouldn't change.
He could do this. It would prove to Willow, even more, that he was still Oz. He would hold onto his humanity and do the right thing and say goodbye. That's how she would remember him.
The other one answered the door on the first knock.
***
"Willow, stop! We don't know what's happened; for all we know Tara got some emergency phone call from a friend and left in a hurry. She could have knocked this stuff over on her way out the door."
Willow tried to force control back into her body, but her legs felt like rubber bands that had been stretched too far and then snapped back. She wanted to stand, but couldn't imagine doing so. Buffy was kneeling in front of her, gripping her shoulders tightly. She looked up into the hazel eyes, and felt her throat clenching around the words.
"He has her. Buffy, Oz has Tara."
"Dammit, Will, we don't know that!"
"I do. I know it-"
"No, you don't! Willow, think about it. If he had been here, and wolfed out, we'd be able to tell. I mean, there's no...There's no definite sign that he...attacked her."
"There's no blood; I know that. But I also know he has her, Buffy. And I know he'll kill her."
"Willow, how? How can you know that?"
It seemed like every nuance, every tingling sense of déjà vu she'd ever had, every little voice she'd ever heard that seemed not quite her own was gathering within her as she looked at Buffy and answered her:
"Because I can feel her. And she's terrified."
***
He didn't have to change. He wouldn't change.
"Oz..." She was afraid of him. Of course she was afraid of him.
"Tara, I'm sorry. I just want to say, God, how sorry I am. And then I'm leaving town." There, he'd done it. He'd said her name. He hadn't changed.
She was still afraid, he could tell; but there was also gentleness in her eyes, too. She was so gentle; she would never hurt anyone.
There didn't have to be a bad guy here.
"Oz, are y-you OK? No one knew where you w-were." That's right; she stuttered. This shy, stuttering girl had walked into Willow's life and-
No. He wouldn't think that way. He wouldn't change.
"I'm OK. I just wanna say I'm sorry and say good-bye to Willow." There-he'd said her name too, and he hadn't changed.
"W-Willow's not here. I just got b-back myself. I w-was getting a paper." She waved the Sunday edition as if offering proof. "I think she's w-with Buffy." Was she lying? No, Willow wasn't here; he would've been able to smell her. That was a small break, maybe. He didn't have to see them together.
But was she trying to let him know that Willow was safe with the Slayer? Was she telling him to stay away from Willow because she figured he'd try to hurt her? What did she know about his relationship with Willow? Only what Willow had told her, probably, and that wasn't all of it; it wasn't anywhere near all of it. They'd had something good, until he messed it up. But then he'd left to straighten it out, and all the time away he'd thought of her and coming back to her. And he'd done it, too...all the wandering and the anguish and the work; he'd done it, and then he'd come back to make it right. But Willow wasn't there anymore. This one had crept into her mind and her heart and her bed-
No. God, no. He couldn't think that way. He didn't want to change. He wouldn't change.
He saw her looking at him with...what? Pity? Did she feel sorry for him? Because she had her? Because she was touching Willow; she had taken her. She had taken Willow away from him and claimed her and now she looked at him as if she'd known all along she'd win; that she'd get Willow.
Don't. Don't. No. Didn't have to be-to be a bad guy. Everyone was doing the best they could. Willow was. He was. This one...Tara was. He didn't have to change. He could be the man he said he wanted to be. Breathing...That was his hope and his salvation.
The phone rang.
***
Buffy looked at her in silence.
She wants to argue with me, but she knows I'm right.
Finally, she said, "OK, Will. I believe you."
Willow felt the tears sliding down her face. "Buffy, she's so scared. Oz has her, and she's scared and I'm not there to protect her. She's there because of me."
For a moment Willow thought that Buffy might actually slap her. As it was, her eyes narrowed to slits and she practically spit out her words.
"Stop it! Self-flagellation is a luxury we don't have time for. She fell in love with you knowing the risks. Love on the Hellmouth is not for the faint of heart, Willow, and Tara is anything but faint of heart. So lose the martyr monologue and let's figure out where they are."
Willow gulped back her sobs. "OK. You're right. We have to find her, before-" She looked up, voice and heart breaking as one. "What if we're already too late?"
"Not going there, Will. Waste. Of. Energy." Buffy drew in a deep breath, and then expelled it harshly. Suddenly she looked up. "We're not too late, because you can still feel her. Right?" When Willow nodded, she continued. "So send her back some-I don't know-hope, and courage, and..."
"Tara already has more courage than you can even imagine." Her voice sounded amazingly calm to her own ears.
Buffy gave her a small grin. "Then she's way ahead of the game, right? So see if you can link up with her somehow. Use those big honkin' crania of yours and hers and see if she can tell you where she's at."
Willow forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply, and then began reaching out in her mind.
Tara? Baby?
***
"Tara? Baby? It's me, your love-struck girlfriend again. Um, give me a call when you get in, OK?"
God, no. No, no, no. Her voice; Willow's. She used to talk to him that way.
Didn't she?
Did she even care that he was destroyed beyond words? Did it matter to her that he loved her? Wanted to spend the rest of his life showing her how much? Had she thought about him at all before she had kissed the other one-this one, looking at him with all that terror-and lay with her, and opened her body to her? Given to this one what had been his?
No. He didn't have to change.
He wouldn't change.
Yet.
***
"Can you feel her? Get a lock on her?" Buffy was staring anxiously at Willow, who sat trembling with exhaustion and dread.
Willow shook her head. "It comes and goes. I don't even know if she hears me. I think she does, but it's like she flickers in and out. And every time she goes out..." She clutched her stomach, feeling it roil and protest.
"Every time she goes out, she comes back. Willow, you have to hold on, just like she's doing. You can do this. She needs you."
Willow nodded, and carved her voice deeper into the space that she and Tara shared.
Tara? Hold on, Baby. I'll find you. Just give me any help you can. Guide me, Baby. Because I love you so much. Just a little hint, Sweetie. Bring me to you.
***
"Oz, I'm s-so sorry you h-heard that. God, I'm so s-sorry."
She was terrified. She should be terrified. And still her eyes held that-what was it? Compassion? Gentleness?
It was pity.
She felt sorry for him? With what he could do to her?
"Come with me." He wasn't changing. The hand extended was smooth and bare.
She was shaking her head. "No, Oz. I-I don't think I should."
"I don't think it matters what you think."
That scared her. He could see a second note of fear enter her eyes, and join with the first. He savored the chord that it created.
"Oz, I'm not g-going anywhere w-with you."
The hand was still perfectly smooth. "Either you come with me, or I rip you open and then go get Willow."
And that note...that was the most delicious one yet. He could feel the fear rolling off of her. And yet, barely a wave for herself. It was a deafening roar of fear for Willow. She would do anything to save her. Just like Willow had begged him to take her instead of this one.
"Everyone has choices to make, Tara. What's yours?"
The hand, he marveled, was perfect. Bare and utterly human. He used the hand to clasp her trembling one. Her terror was intoxicating.
He wouldn't have to change. Yet. But when they were out of here, in his domain, he would. There was no longer any reason not to.
Part 8
Tara? Baby? You have to help me find you. Buffy's here; we're gonna come get you. But you need to let me know where you are. Baby?
Willow sat cross-legged on Tara's bed and tried to focus. She had felt Tara's presence-always a flickering burst of energy, mute and muted-at seemingly random intervals for the past half an hour. Now, though, it had been over ten minutes since she had last registered the gentle warmth.
Glancing over, she saw a long, golden strand of hair shimmering on Tara's pillow. Only a few hours ago, they had lain here, tangled together, laughing and healing old wounds and creating new dreams. And now Tara was somewhere, terrified, with someone who meant to hurt her, or already had hurt her, or...Panic shot through her like flares, threatening to burn through any vestige of security and hope. How would she live without Tara? How would she ever move, eat, laugh, breathe again, knowing that she did so alone? Why would she want to?
She drew another deep breath, twining the light hair gently through her fingers as she did so, and attempted to coax her mind back into a state of calm and focus.
Baby? Where are you? Can you hear me? Tara, please-don't leave me. Come back to me. Please...
Love.
Willow's eyes flew open. She hadn't imagined the voice, she was sure of it. She would know that voice, speaking that word, in the middle of any chaos and any silence. She focused once more.
Tara? I can hear you, Baby. Oh, Sweetie, I can hear you. Are you OK?
Love...you...Always love you.
No-no, those words were wrong, desperately wrong. Those were the words that came before goodbye.
Baby, where are you? Just tell me. Do you know?
The silence was a black fog that mocked her, dared her to hope and then fall.
Tara, don't you even think about going away. I need you, Baby. Tara? Dammit, come back. I-I will so kick your beautiful ass if you leave me. She could feel tears spilling out from behind her closed lids.
The yawning stillness waved forward, blind to her grief and terror. And then-
Willow...Oz-he hates us...so much. You can't...
Can't what? Save you? The hell I can't. Where are you?
Don't...Don't do this...He'll kill you.
So I should just say goodbye and wait for your body to be recovered?
He's so...so crazy with anger.
Can you get him back to being Oz?
Willow, he is Oz.
Willow choked at the words. Oz? The gentle musician? He was doing this? Terrorizing, hurting her beloved?
The wolf...it comes and goes. I think Oz is...Oz is controlling it, letting it...come out just a little, enough to...
Enough to what? Baby? Enough to what?
Enough to...to hurt me...pretty bad.
The room tilted, walls and floor stretching and shifting and finally resettling.
Willow, I can't...stop him. I'm already fading. You have to get away...for now. Don't try...if he gets to you...
Tara Maclay, don't you dare tell me what to do. Don't you dare make decisions for me about my life. The only decision that you get to make for me is what to name our first child because I'm such a spaz that the kid would be in grad school before I settled on a name I like.
There was nothing, no sound within the dark cottoned chamber of her mind.
Tara? Do you hear me? Goddess, please...Baby, how would you feel if you had to sit here and know I was dying? Don't do this to me, Tara. I need you.
Willow...
Baby? Yeah?
If I had to sit there and listen...listen to you...I would-I would so kick your beautiful ass.
Willow could feel her shoulders shaking with the force of unreleased sobs. Then tell me, Baby. Where are you?
Some old factory...west of town. It took us about...twenty minutes to get here, in Oz's van. I don't think...not used anymore.
Willow started with the realization. The little prick took you where he found Xander and me; when Spike wanted that love potion for Dru.
Yeah, well...the little prick has...has abandonment issues, I think.
Baby, you have to hang on. Buffy and I are on our way. I'm gonna keep calling you, and you'd damn well better pick up the phone, OK?
I love...love it when you're all...forceful.
Springing from the bed, Willow turned to Buffy, who had watched all of this unfold without moving from her seat on the floor.
"They're at the textile factory, the old one on 79." She propelled Buffy out the door.
"You mean where he and Cordelia-?"
"That's the one."
"The little prick..."
***
The ride, in Mrs. Summers' SUV, lasted only fourteen minutes, largely because Buffy seemed to assume that speed limits didn't apply to Slayers. Willow had been able to keep contact with Tara fairly consistently; she was clearly hurt, but wouldn't give any details. But the knowledge that Willow was coming for her seemed to give her renewed strength. Willow leaped out before the vehicle had come to a complete stop; Buffy was on her heels seconds thereafter.
"Wait, Will-we need a plan."
"The plan is we go in there and rescue Tara."
"What about Oz?"
"He forfeited his rescue coupon when he hurt Tara."
Buffy grabbed her arm, spinning her around. "Will-how far do we go? If he puts up a fight?"
Willow paused, knowing what Buffy was asking; but she paused only a second.
"His life is secondary to Tara's safety. Is that clear?"
Buffy looked at her, her expression one of both compassion and resolution. "It's clear. Let's go get your girl."
***
Willow knew exactly where they'd be-Oz would hold Tara in the same room where he discovered her kissing Xander one year and a lifetime ago. Get over yourself, Irony Boy.
What she hadn't expected was the sight of blood all along the hallway leading to the room; small random droplets interspersed with larger pools-dark, liquid garnets flung in haste and protest-that stopped at the closed door to the room.
Buffy reached out an arm, signaling for Willow to stop, and pressed her ear to the door. Willow did likewise.
"...because you can't understand. You don't know what we had; what we still could have had. She chose me, remember? Why didn't you stay away from her?"
Willow couldn't hear Tara's muffled response, but she didn't really care. She had heard Tara; knew once again that she was still alive.
"You didn't try to seduce her? You expect me to believe that? That you didn't use every trick in the book to get her into bed?" There was the sound of Tara's low voice again, and then what sounded like a rattling of chains. "Well, here's what I think. I think you gave her that poor, shy, stuttering routine until she just felt sorry for you."
Willow grabbed Buffy by the shoulder. "When does the ass-kicking start?" she hissed.
"I'm thinkin' right about now." With that, Buffy gave the door a very-expertly-delivered kick and they both tumbled into the room.
Willow knew, in that moment, that she was looking upon two sights that would stay with her until the end of her days: one was Oz, in a grotesque state of half-change; his eyes black and fangs partially erupted, fingers distended to claws.
And the other was Tara, bloodied and torn, chained against a wall.
At the sight of her, Oz seemed at first about to complete his transformation, but then abruptly, all signs of the werewolf disappeared. He stood before her, eyes a mixture of grief and venom. Willow saw Tara lift her head slightly; her lip had been sliced and claw marks veered angrily across her throat and chest. Willow thought for a moment that she might pass out, but steadied herself. I told you I'd get you, Baby. Hold on, OK? Please hold on.
Look at you-all...all butch and...ready to rumble.
"Willow...I went to find you; I was going to apologize. But you weren't there and I went to her room"-with this he jerked his head in Tara's direction-"and I even said I was sorry to her. But then you called and left that message and-and I just lost control."
Anger charged through her body at the words, and she struggled to keep her voice even. "Oz, you're not out of control now; so just let Tara go, OK?"
He took a step closer to her. "All I wanted to do was love you, Willow. I did everything, all the work, for you. But you threw it all away."
"No, Oz. I didn't. I fell in love with Tara and I hadn't even realized how much until I tried to give her up."
She recoiled at his reaction: fangs ripped from his jaws, and his fingers stretched once more into gnarled claws-and then, just as quickly, they had disappeared, and Oz stood human before her again. Finally, he turned and walked away from her, back to where Tara was hanging, held up by the chains.
"Can you believe that I came back here and locked myself up in these chains the last two nights? Just so I wouldn't hurt anybody. I mean, this room's kinda symbolic, isn't it?"
Willow hesitated in anguish. She wanted to scream at him, curse him both literally and figuratively for what he had done to her beloved. But could she do so without him transforming again and killing Tara? Would he even have to change? How much of this had he done-willingly? The thought made her nauseous.
"You hurt me, Willow. More than you'll ever know. I didn't plan to do this, you know." Oz turned toward Tara as he spoke. "I was going to leave town. But when I heard your voice, on the phone-I just lost it. Now maybe you know a little bit about how it feels." He drew a shallow, hitched breath, and Willow saw the claws spring from his hands once more; she saw him reach for Tara; she saw that she couldn't possibly reach her or even utter a spell in time to keep him from puncturing the soft flesh that had already borne so many wounds-
"Oz?" Willow and Oz both looked up in surprise. They had almost forgotten Buffy was there. Oz hesitated, head cocked, one feral hand raised.
"I really don't want you to do that."
Oz, his face fully human, seemed to waver for a moment. And then he shrugged with a regret that Willow knew he didn't feel, and turned back to Tara.
***
Moments later, Willow finally registered a complete thought: Man, I didn't know even Buffy could move that fast.
And she never ran track?
Buffy stood towering over Oz, who was writhing on the floor. His now-declawed hands clung desperately to his genitals.
"You know, sometimes you just gotta go with the classics." Buffy knelt and turned him over roughly, searching in first one pocket and then another until she pulled out a key. She tossed it over to Willow. "Let's have a new lead in this year's Bondage Pageant, shall we?"
Willow fumbled with her eagerness, but finally managed to extricate Tara, who sagged against her.
"Baby? Oh God, Tara, you're hurt."
"Nothing that ...won't heal." Her smile was feeble, and fresh blood trickled from the tear that she reopened with the effort. It was the most beautiful smile Willow had ever seen.
"Willow?" Tara's voice was weak, and Willow leaned in as close as she could, kissing the bruised flesh with infinite gentleness.
"Yeah, Baby?"
"Amanda."
Willow's brow furrowed with anxiety. Had Tara been beaten into a delirium? Was she under some kind of curse? "What, Baby?"
"For a girl. Amanda. Tristan for...for a boy. You said I could...decide. So I decided."