Disclaimers/Author's Notes: See Part 1.
She knew she should be exhausted; she knew she would be exhausted in the near future. For now, though, energy poured through her like sweet wine.
Oz sat across from her at the head of Giles' table, hands tied. They had trussed him like a Thanksgiving turkey and loaded him into Mrs. Summers' vehicle.
Tara they had treated far more gently. The gashes were angry-looking, but Oz hadn't selected any major bloodlines. She wasn't in danger from loss of blood. It was clear, though, that she would need at least a few stitches. Willow's primary fear was internal bleeding, judging from the bruises she saw already developing on the fair skin, dark blotches of violet on a pale canvass.
Buffy dropped Willow and Tara off at the hospital, where they greeted Tara's injuries with the typical "We won't ask, please God don't tell" demeanor that characterized most Sunnydale establishments including its fast-food drive-throughs.
"Are you sure you're OK with-with him?" Willow asked, hesitating at the hospital curb.
"I'll be fine. I'm going directly to Giles' place and get some back-up. We'll hang tight until you get there, OK?"
"OK. And hey, Buffy-about tonight..."
"Yeah, yeah. You owe me. We'll make sure we enter it in the 'Scooby Ledger o' Life-Saving' tomorrow, alright? Go take care of your sweetie."
Tara's wounds were painful; would get more painful before they healed. But she required fewer stitches than Willow had anticipated. Her greatest relief had come at the pronouncement that Tara had suffered no internal injuries. The gray-haired, businesslike ER physician, however, decided to keep her overnight for observation.
"What are they going to observe?" Tara complained as they wheeled her to her room. "My sleeping habits?" She was already a bit groggy from the Vicodin.
"They'll observe me observing you, Baby. I'm going to stay here until you fall asleep, and then I'll stay a little bit longer just to gaze adoringly upon your sleeping form." Relief, she decided, should be bottled and sold at fine drugstores near her. Even now, well over an hour after she first knew Tara was alive and would stay that way, she could feel the sweet knowledge washing over her, again and again; a long drink of cool water to a woman who had thought she would die of thirst and been rescued at the last minute.
"Are you going to see him?" Tara asked, struggling to keep her eyes open, as Willow stepped back into the room after phoning Buffy with the news.
"Yeah, I think I have to. I have to get some answers. Does that make sense? Is that OK with you?" Willow held her hand gently, planting soft kisses on the palm.
"Just be careful, OK?"
"I will, I promise. Buffy and Giles will be there."
"OK. Just, um...just..." Her voice began to trail away.
"Just what, Sweetie?" Willow bent near to hear Tara's whisper.
"Just keep the river...to your right. You'll reach...Omaha...by dusk."
Willow bit back a smile and whispered in Tara's ear, "I will, Baby. I'll make dinner reservations at the very swankest Omaha eatery." She looked at the beautiful soul now sleeping peacefully before her, and felt her heart squeeze tightly at the sight. She's seen enough pain in her life, dammit. She's way overdue for the good stuff...So I'll just make darn sure she gets it. She sat back in the chair and gratefully watched the steady rise and fall of Tara's breathing.
Almost an hour later, she called a taxi and headed over to Giles' apartment. He answered on the first knock, and pulled her into a warm embrace. Leaning back slightly, he looked at her with gentle scrutiny.
"Are you alright?"
"What scale are we using?"
"Let's say one to ten, wherein 'one' equals 'Fairly well, thank you' and 'ten' equals 'Oh, look-the bowels of Hell yawn agape at our feet!'"
"I'm going with five right now, because Tara's gonna be OK."
Buffy reached her and encircled her in a fierce hug. Willow met her eyes and wondered yet once more what had ever passed for friendship in her life before she met the Slayer. Probably the goldfish, but they aren't much for the mochas and high adventure.
Over Buffy's shoulder, Willow could see Oz sitting at the long dinner table, hands tied to the arms of the wooden chair. His head slumped forward; she couldn't tell whether he was awake or-something else.
"I gave him a mild tranquilizer," Giles explained with admirable anticipation of her question.
"And there's plenty more where that came from," Buffy added, with admirable anticipation of her next question. "He should start coming back around in about twenty minutes or so."
Willow let herself sink into the soft couch; she sipped the relief one more time, thinking about Tara bleeding and terrified but now safe. Buffy sat down next to her, and slid an arm along the back of the sofa to rest on Willow's shoulder.
"I gave Giles the Cliff Notes version," she said. Giles nodded.
"It seems quite remarkable, really. Apparently Oz has far more control over his demon aspect than most werewolves do."
"Oh, yeah, it's quite remarkable," Willow replied sharply. "It's also horrifying, ominous, grotesque, and a whole bunch of other words that you'd rather not have to use to describe anyone in your social circle." Giles looked duly abashed, and Willow softened somewhat.
"I'm sorry, Giles. Just been, you know...a long night. I mean, we have a lotta long nights, I know; but this one-not so much the years but the mileage, you know?"
"Yes, I suppose I do."
"It's the control part that's worst of all, you guys," Willow said after a moment. "I mean, a year ago, even six months ago, that would have been the best news you could have given me. But now, tonight-he could have stopped the wolf from coming out, but he didn't. He...he let it out like some traumatized pit bull, some wild animal to do his dirty work. I mean, this is Oz we're talking about. I never, in a million years, imagined he could do something like this." Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked angrily, not wanting them to come yet because she suspected that once those rains began to fall, there would be some serious flood damage on the way.
"Love can make people do strange and awful things," Giles noted softly.
"Don't give me that," Willow said, glaring at him. Giles recoiled slightly, clearly taken aback by the force of her anger. "This isn't about love. It's about-about...It's about some other thing that isn't love, but I don't know what just yet," she trailed off, in confusion. "Uh, sorry, Giles; at least, sorta."
"No, Willow; you're actually quite right. I do believe that Oz loves you, but this...This isn't just some particularly unfortunate symptom of love."
"It's about control," Buffy said suddenly, and very quietly. As Willow and Giles turned to face her, she continued. "It's about feeling like you have the right to do a particular thing because you're hurt or angry or whatever, and nobody gets to do that to you. Nobody gets to have that control over you. So...so you control them." She held Willow's eyes for a long time. Willow slowly nodded, and rested her hand over Buffy's.
She saw Giles glance up, his eyes narrowing. Wheeling around on the couch, she saw Oz shifting slightly in his chair, pulling weakly at his ropes as he edged into consciousness.
"How well is he tied?"
"If he gets out of that, it's because he morphed into a Q-tip," Buffy said decisively. "Giles double-checked the knots, just to be safe."
"Thanks," Willow murmured. "Both of you."
"Yeah, I learned all the good knots in Girl Scouts. Giles here learned 'em at the Manchester Academy of Bondage and Domination."
"Yes, I graduated at the head of my class," Giles responded blithely, attempting to remain unfazed by all the smutty innuendo.
"So you were on top?" Buffy asked innocently.
"Completely. Er, that is..." His cheeks reddened in sudden realization. "Well...Be that as it may, I think we should turn our attention to other matters."
By now Oz appeared to have awakened almost completely. He looked over at the three of them, peering at him with suspicion and wariness; and then his chin dropped to his chest. A groan echoed from somewhere deep within his chest.
Buffy looked at Willow questioningly. "What do you want to do?"
Willow felt a surge of appreciation for Buffy's understanding; for her forgoing any alpha smack-down inclinations.
"I wanna talk to him. Alone." At the sight of four raised eyebrows, she amended slightly, "Or relatively alone. I understand the danger, guys, I do. It's just...This feels kinda private, you know?"
"I get it," Buffy replied softly. "How about if Giles and I hang out at the top of the stairs. No eavesdropping, I promise. But that way we can be down here in less than a second; at least, I can. He'll bring up the rear, no matter what he did at the head before." Giles' expression defied easy description. Offended, with a side of abject horror, Willow decided.
"And keep this tranquilizer gun in your hands at all times," Giles finally managed, pushing the slender weapon firmly into her grasp. He squeezed her shoulder lightly, then turned to ascend the stairs.
"Willow, I'm right above you if you need me, OK?" Buffy looked at her with concern.
"Hey, we've got your knots, your tranquilizer guns...And I just ordered the Ginsu knives; they should be here any minute." Willow tried for an air of irony.
"I mean emotionally."
Willow looked at her best friend. Was it less than twenty-four hours ago that we were sitting at the Espresso Pump happily comparing our love lives? She nodded, and Buffy hugged her again, then headed up the stairs to join her Watcher.
Gripping the tranquilizer gun tightly, Willow pulled out a chair half-way down the table. Oz raised his head and looked at her; Willow could see that tears were spilling down his cheeks and onto the table. Neither person spoke for a perhaps two minutes.
Finally, Willow muttered, "I don't know where to even begin."
"Willow." The voice was almost inaudible; almost sobbing.
She waited expectantly.
"I'm so sorry."
"Well, then; I guess that takes care of things, doesn't it?" She hadn't realized she had such sarcasm within her; even after he had left the first time, she hadn't realized she could speak with such venom.
"No," he whispered. Silence fell over them once again.
After a moment, Willow asked, "Why Oz? How could you do this?" The words felt wrenched from her with the force of her desperation for an answer, even as she realized that no answer would suffice.
"I was so crazy, Willow." His voice shook. "When I saw you together Friday night, I just went absolutely crazy. But then I pulled it together. I did; I swear. I told you that I was coming to say goodbye. But then I heard your voice on the machine and I just lost it."
"Well apparently you regained it enough to take Tara hostage and-" She stopped, unable to finish the sentence, say it aloud. As it was, it would be playing in her mind for a very long time. "You didn't wolf out in Tara's room, Oz; you couldn't have. You couldn't have gotten her off of campus without being seen." She realized that her own voice was trembling-with anger, with the terror that still vibrated through her body.
"No. You're right." He looked at her miserably. "I kept the wolf away until I got her to the factory."
"And then you let it out to play," she finished flatly, nausea rolling up in her belly and threatening to make its way to her throat.
"I know this doesn't mean anything, Willow, but I wasn't going to kill her."
She told him with her gaze that he was right.
"I swear to you. Even at the end-I just wanted...I just wanted her to feel half as bad as I did."
"I think you may have over-shot the mark a little bit there, because I'm pretty sure she feels probably two or three times as bad as you did."
Oz looked at her with dread. "Is she going to be alright?"
"Yes, she is. She's going to be fine, and we're going to live happily ever after unless some other whack-job nut-case kill-joy decides that he doesn't want us to." She watched as Oz closed his eyes and seemed to sink inside of himself with anguish.
"Oz...I just can't understand this. I can't even start to wrap my mind around this, and I'm not bragging, but considering my mind, that's saying something. I mean, you've always been this quiet, enigmatic type; I've never seen violence out of you except when we were fighting vampires and other assorted bad guys. How could you-how could you, Oz, of all people..." She trailed off helplessly.
"For what it's worth, Willow, I was as surprised as you were." He gave a dry, mirthless laugh. "I always figured that if I learned how to keep the wolf at bay, I wouldn't have any problem. I'd never known I could feel that much rage."
"Well, we interrupt this self-delusion to bring you a clues-flash: You can. You did." She shook her head. "Oz, why didn't you leave after Friday night? As close as you came to-" She stopped, remembering that night's surreal terror.
"I should have; I know. But I wanted to talk to you, Willow. I wanted to say goodbye. I wanted you to know that I could control it; that I could control myself. After everything we've been through, I didn't want your last memory of me to be as the wolf."
"Well if you think that would've sucked, consider my latest memory of you: a half-wolf, half-human bastard terrorizing my girlfriend. You really shoulda cut your losses." She shook her head in disbelief.
And then a sudden certainty came to her. "You never really thought you'd lose, did you?"
Oz looked at her, perplexed. "What do you mean? Lose what?"
"Me. I mean, starting two years ago; I was all smitten with the boy in the band. Even when I kissed Xander, I was begging for another chance less than an hour later. And after you slept with Veruca, you knew I still wanted to be with you. You took off for Tibet and points east, having one transforming moment after another with nary a post-card or a phone call to let me know you're alive, and then you decide to come back and give it another shot with me. And you never, ever thought I'd say no, did you?"
Oz struggled for words. "Well, I thought I had a good chance when Xander said you didn't have a new guy." He paused, shifting uncomfortably. "But then, after I saw her-"
"Say her name, Oz. It's the least you can do." She felt her jaw tighten.
"After I saw Tara..." He took a deep breath, and Willow found herself gripping the tranquilizer gun tightly. But there was no change.
"After I saw Tara, and found out you cared about her-I was scared then."
"Were you? I mean, I know you were upset. You made that abundantly clear. But were you really afraid of losing me? I'd been so happy to be your girlfriend; so devoted to you. Did you really think I might choose Tara over you? For God's sake, Oz, be honest," she pleaded.
Oz met her gaze silently for several seconds. And then his expression softened, and, if possible, grew even sadder. "No. I think that deep inside, I always thought you'd be mine. What a stupid, vain assumption." He sighed heavily.
"Had I ever really given you reason to think otherwise?" She looked over to the couch, where she and Tara had sat the night before. "God, what a great triptych of irony we made...You didn't think you'd lose; Tara didn't think she'd win; and I was spending half my time trying to believe that there was a Willow Sweepstakes going on and that there were people who actually wanted to win."
Oz shook his head. "If you had any idea how many times I've wished I'd never left..."
Willow looked at him sadly. This probably needed to be said. "Oz, it wouldn't have made any difference."
"What do you mean? We were happy, weren't we?" He looked at her with something akin to desperation.
"Yeah, we were. But I still would have met Tara, and-and things would have changed."
"You don't know that."
"Yes I do, Oz. I'm sorry, but I do. I was definitely happy with you, and I definitely loved you. But-but I can't imagine ever meeting Tara and not falling in love with her." She sighed. Even after the horrific events of the day and evening, she had no real desire to inflict pain for pain's sake. Tara was alive, would recover; retribution was unnecessary. She couldn't imagine ever forgiving him; then again, Tara was the one he needed to ask that of. Vengeance, though...she didn't have the energy for it. She wanted to get back to Tara. But at the same time, she wouldn't be an accomplice to a misguided regret. Oz needed to know that regardless of his presence, she and Tara would have met and fallen in love. If anything, that would have been even more painful. Looking at him, she could see his own thoughts and feelings flickering in his eyes.
"God, what a total fuck-up," he muttered. "I still can't believe everything I did today." His shoulders sagged heavily, and Willow could hear his breathing grow ragged.
"You have to believe it, Oz. Because you did it. You took Tara to a factory and chained her up and beat her." Willow heard her voice shake. "You say you weren't going to kill her-maybe you were, maybe you weren't. But even if you weren't, you did something terrible, Oz; you hurt another person, horribly, and you did it on purpose. It wasn't the wolf, it was you. And you'd better find a way to wrap your mind around that pretty quickly, or you'll do it again."
"Never," he rasped, looking at her in anguish. "I could never do that again."
"See, that word is gonna get you in trouble, Oz, because you could do it again. If you don't want to, you'll have to make the choice not to. You told me before you left that the wolf was in you, all the time. Well you're in you, too, all the time, and apparently there are some dark, musty corners you haven't wanted to see in a while and they've gotten really, really dirty." She paused to take a breath, and looked at him intently. "I don't know if you'll find the answer in Tibet or a church or therapy or where, but you'd better find it, Oz. Find it, and deal with it."
They both fell silent once more. Finally, Oz looked at her. Grief seemed to echo off of him, out of every breath he took and released.
"Do you hate me? Do you feel anything for me besides hate?"
Willow met his gaze, and in it she saw a wry, caring guitarist who had given her a witch Pez; who had taken a bullet to protect her; who had risked his life innumerable times in the name of good. She saw someone who loved her, had told her and shown her how beautiful she was to him. She saw someone with a brilliant mind and a generous spirit. And she saw someone who had kidnapped her beloved, keeping her terrified and wounded because he couldn't face losing what he had always expected to have for his very own.
"Too many socks," she finally sighed, shrugging helplessly.
Oddly, he didn't seem to understand.
"I think about everything that I've felt about you, and everything you've done, and I just can't fit it all under one heading like love or hate. There are just too many socks to stuff into one drawer." She looked at him with greater resolution. "But I do know that you and I will never, ever be together again. Do you know that?"
Tears glistened in his eyes once more. He could only nod his understanding.
"Oz, there's something else I have to ask you. I think I know the answer, but I need you to tell me for sure."
"Anything," he said simply.
Willow squared her shoulders and tried to gather her courage. She hadn't realized the full extent of her fear of the matter until this moment.
"Oz, when you had Tara; when you were...hurting her..." Willow choked on the words, but forced herself to continue. "When you were hurting her, did you...did you bite her?" There. She'd said it. Now if she could only survive the answer.
"No." The reply was immediate, and sure. "I thought about it; I won't lie. But...But I didn't."
Willow released a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. Not trusting her voice, she only nodded. Then she stood up, surprised to find her legs solid beneath her.
"I'll be right back."
She climbed the stairs slowly, running the entire conversation over in her mind. As she reached the top, she saw Buffy and Giles sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor. Buffy looked fresh and alert; Giles looked sore and disheveled. She was suddenly aware of loving them both very much.
"You OK?" Hazel eyes looked softly into hers.
"Yeah, Buffy. Tired, but OK."
"The question now is what to do with him," Giles said thoughtfully. "I could ask the Watchers' Council for advice, although I'm not on the best terms with them."
"And we know that their advice is always reasoned and temperate. I mean, I plan to ask them about birth control whenever you get their new number." Buffy snorted in exasperation. "We're not asking them anything unless it's to fling themselves into a wood chipper."
"OK, so we have a 'no' on the Watchers' Council issue," Willow duly noted. "Other suggestions?"
"Well I can't imagine taking him to the police," Giles said helplessly. "Whatever would we say?"
"It's not too far from a domestic violence case, but I agree: the details are very inconvenient." Buffy paused, mulling over various options. "I could ask Riley for some help, although I definitely don't want the Initiative as a whole in on this deal. Of course, Riley himself isn't in the Initiative as a whole right now, so that last part's kind of a given..."
"Wait a minute-why not pull a Spike on him?" Willow looked up hopefully.
"You want Oz to drink pig's blood and watch 'Passions'? My God, Willow, isn't that a bit extreme?"
Giles looked at Buffy, his gaze filled with regretful disappointment. "I think Willow is suggesting that Oz be implanted with a behavior-modification chip."
Willow looked at Buffy anxiously. "Do you think we could do it? Could Riley help us out?"
Buffy nodded confidently. "Riley's so whipped, he'd sing 'Copa Cabana' naked at Dodger Stadium if I asked him too." Catching the bemused looks of her friends, she amended, "Which of course I would never ask him to do. Anyway," she hurried on, "I'm sure he can get his hands on one of the chips, and I know he's still got close ties to at least five or six guys at the Initiative; one of them's a doctor. Maybe Riley could persuade him to help us out." Turning, she looked at Willow anxiously. "Do you really think this is the best idea?"
Willow weighed the matter slowly in her mind. Finally, she replied, "Yes, I do. I think it'll work, and I think it's the best option. I mean, I don't trust Oz-at least not all of him-but I can't see turning him over to the Initiative, knowing what they're up to. I just don't see a whole lot of other possibilities here, guys."
Buffy and then Giles nodded in turn. Buffy left to call Riley, returning a few minutes later to say that he had the necessary equipment in his own personal stash. ("Some people have their own personal stash of drugs; Riley has his own personal stash of government-issue military intelligence technology.") He was fairly certain he could convince his medic friend. They would come over within the next two or three hours.
"We should best tell Oz of our decision," Giles said.
"Actually, let me," Willow broke in. "I'll tell him, and then I'm going back to the hospital."
"Will, visiting hours are way past over," Buffy reminded her dubiously.
"I know, but I can sit outside her door. Besides," she added, looking out the eastern window at the dim slivers of first light, "visiting hours will start again fairly soon." She took Buffy's hand. "After the procedure, and after Oz leaves, will you stop by the hospital and let me know?"
"Sure. And I'll bring a big bag of Tara's favorite candy. Which would be...?"
"Mounds."
"Of course," Giles murmured. "Of course she prefers Mounds."
"I'll just be a few minutes, and then I'm heading out. Would you call a cab for me?" She hugged them both again, suddenly feeling a need to stock up on these comforts. "I'll call upstairs as I leave so you can come on back down. And thanks for the privacy. I know this hasn't been the most comfortable spot."
"Oh, that depends on one's perspective, really," Giles demurred. "Relative to the seventh circle of hell..."
Back downstairs, Willow looked once more at Oz, who was now staring morosely out the window. She wondered once more at the journey her feelings had taken, and realized that despite the terror, and despite the awful aching of the past two weeks, she and Tara were facing this new day as a couple. A day could only be so bad if it started with that truth.
"Oz, I think there's a way to keep everyone safe here, including you." She outlined the plan, explaining the chip and what activated it. "It's simple, really: don't attack any living thing. You can fight demons, but if you raise your hand against any human being, you will spend the next several minutes in a state of deep, deep regret."
Oz thought briefly. "That's about the best plan I could hope for. And Willow-I am sorry. I know that doesn't mean anything, or change anything, but I am."
Willow struggled to find words. "It means something, Oz, as long as you make peace with all of yourself." Then her voice took on harder tone. "And as long as you stay away from Tara. If you come hear her again..."
"I won't. I swear to you, I won't." He looked at her steadily. Finally, she nodded.
When Oz spoke again, his voice had a dull, empty sound to it. "I'm never going to see you again, am I?"
"I don't think so, Oz." She felt the tears threatening to slip out once more. She had walked such an important path with him. She wanted good things for him. But their dance was over, long past over, and she felt her body hum suddenly with the force of her resonance with Tara.
He looked at her, his own eyes filled with tears.
"Goodbye, Willow."
"Goodbye, Oz."
And then she needed to be at the hospital, would have teleported there if she knew how. Turning away from Oz, she walked to the door.
"Leaving now," she called back over her shoulder, and heard Giles groan as he rose, creaking, to his feet once more. Stepping out on the porch, she drew in a deep breath. It would be a warm, beautiful day.
To every thing there is a season. And then her taxi appeared, and she headed off to be where she belonged.
"Keep 'em closed, OK? Are they closed? I think I see a little daylight between those lids!"
"Honey, I appreciate you wanting to surprise me, but one of us has to watch where we're going or we'll both end up back in the hospital."
"Hey, no hospital talk! We just broke you outta there this morning; we're not going back. Although I must say, there was a great view..."
"Willow, what are you talking about? My room faced a billboard advertising a hemorrhoid ointment."
"I meant your gown. What a great view of two matching works of natural splendor!" Willow grinned to herself at Tara's immediate blush. She suspected that she would have great fun over the next several years finding various ways to convince Tara of just how incredibly beautiful she was...even when she had bruises all over her neck, chest and arms; even when she had stitches binding together her vulnerable flesh. Then she forced the scary thoughts out of her head, knowing that though she wasn't finished with them, they didn't have to plague her every waking moment. She pulled Tara gently along the hallway, steering her clear of potential hazards. "Yep, every time I think I've found my favorite spot on you, I see you from a different angle and I have to head back into the voting booth and recast my ballot."
Tara pulled up abruptly, a sly grin skittering across her face. She kept her eyes completely closed. "Come back here," she ordered. Willow looked at her with curiosity, but complied. "Closer," Tara requested, "so I can whisper something in your ear."
Willow drew close to Tara and obediently placed her ear next to the curving lips. "What is it, Baby?"
"My nipples are hard."
Willow found herself gulping for air as her belly tripped and tumbled. "Oh my God, Tara, you can't tell me things like that and not expect me to-"
"Just as I thought," Tara noted triumphantly. "You're a breast girl, first and foremost." She kissed Willow gently on the ear, and then said breezily, "Lead on, MacDuff."
Willow sent strict instructions to all points south of her solar plexus to please behave themselves for at least the next few hours. The points sent back word that they couldn't promise anything.
At last they reached Tara's dorm room. Willow positioned Tara in front of her, and then reached around and knocked out five short raps, the agreed-upon signal being the first line from "We Are Family" by Sister Sledge. As Buffy pulled the door open, Willow whispered, "Take a look, Baby."
Tara opened her eyes, and Willow heard her sudden gasp.
The tiny room, which had always had a magical feel to it by virtue of its fairy lights and its wonderful scents and its occupant, was now practically enchanted. After visiting Tara at the hospital and giving Willow the news that Oz had left, Buffy had headed out to enjoy one of the more delicious aspects of being someone's best friend: helping that friend surprise her beloved. After a whispered consultation in the hall ("Does this involve evisceration, exsanguination, or existential anguish?" Tara had called out from her bed. "'Cause I'd suggest we just wait and see the movie."), Buffy had made the rounds for various supplies.
Yellow rose petals were strewn everywhere-the floor, the desk, and most especially the bed. "Put a lot of petals on the bed, OK?" she had instructed Buffy after handing her Tara's room key. "But just petals, remember, not the whole rose."
"Got it: that's a 'yes' to petals; a 'no' to pricks. I should remember that more often."
At the same florist, Buffy had procured miniature pots of lavender, sage, and thyme, which now sat in various places of optimum sunlight.
She had popped into the candle shop and emerged twenty minutes later weighed down with enough tapers and pillars to illuminate a black hole and Rush Limbaugh's mind. All had been lit, and shadows from the flames jumped, sashayed, and ambled along the walls.
Finally, at a card store, she had purchased blue and gold glitter. From the appearance of the room, she had simply walked through the door and gone into convulsions. Glitter was flung over every possible surface; it looked as if the entire room were winking tiny eyes of maize and cobalt.
"Welcome back," Willow said simply.
"I-I don't know what to say." Tara's eyes were filled with tears. She looked at Buffy, who stood gazing back at her affectionately. "You did all this?"
"Well, me and Martha Steward trade off sometimes. I was actually gonna make a lovely sachet out of vampire dust until I remembered they smelled like oven-dried sewage." She walked over to Tara and took her hand gently. "Is it OK to hug you?"
"Oh yes; Willow won't get jealous unless you grab my ass."
"Tara! I'm afraid that Willow is rubbing off on you, and oh God don't I wish I'd picked a different phrase...What I meant was, will it hurt you if I hug you?"
"I don't think so. Just be gentle with me." Watching Buffy move tentatively into Tara's arms, Willow realized again just how many layers there were to her girl. The more secure she felt in her place with someone, the looser (and the naughtier) she became. She felt her own eyes sting dangerously as she watched her two favorite people in the world begin to establish their own particular language.
As Buffy stepped back, Tara added, "Thank you, Buffy. For everything. I don't know how I can ever repay you."
"Well, here at the First National Bank of Scooby, we have a policy of rotating credit. Today I help save your ass; tomorrow you help save mine. Actually, a simple 'thank you' pretty much erases any debt." Her expression became serious. "Just take very good care of Willow, OK?" She smiled, but there was no doubt that she meant what she said.
"Always," Tara whispered, squeezing Willow's hand. Willow raised their linked fingers to her lips, and kissed Tara's hand gently.
"So-that takes care of today's Touching Moment," Buffy noted, passing her hand quickly over her eyes to wipe away her own tears. "Giles, Riley, Xander, and Anya are going to be here in a few minutes. We didn't want to overwhelm you when you walked in the door. Welcome to Casa de Tara; please make yourself comfortable. Your server will be with you in just a moment." With that, she marched over to the miniature refrigerator and began pulling out bottles of water and sodas. A plate of cookies sat on top of the appliance.
Scarcely a minute later, the remaining friends crowded into the tiny space. Without preamble, Anya strode purposefully up to Tara and peered at her. She seemed to think that the attack had left Tara either deaf or perhaps mentally impaired, because she said slowly and very loudly, "I'M GLAD OZ DIDN'T KILL YOU AND EAT YOU."
Willow felt her heart slam into her ribcage at the words. When she caught her breath, she snorted derisively, not caring who heard her. "Wow, Anya, that's a truly touching sentim-" But she was interrupted by Tara, who took Anya's hand and without irony or sarcasm or any other Scooby staple, said, "Me too, Anya. Thank you."
And Anya just beamed. Her eyes lit up at the praise, and she gave a delighted little clap, and Willow thought she would have to order more face to accommodate all of her grin. Watching the scene, she realized that for all of the orgasms Xander may have given her, Tara had just treated Anya with more humanity than anyone else in the ex-demon's short mortal life span. And she realized, too, that it was a touching sentiment, because it was true. Hallmark wouldn't be hiring Anya to write verse any time soon, but she was truly glad that Tara was OK and she told her so in those very specific ways. Looking at Xander, she saw him looking at Tara with a mixture of gratitude and deepening interest. Hope the interest doesn't have anything to do with her breasts, she thought suddenly, recalling Anya's revelation at Giles'.
Riley offered Tara a gentle hug. Drawing near, Willow could hear Tara say to him, "Your girlfriend is pretty amazing, Riley." To which he grinned and said, "I was thinking the same thing about yours. Willow looks so happy...It's just-it's so good. She deserves it." He laughed a little sheepishly. "I wanted to get you a card, but none of them seemed...appropriate, you know? I mean, nothing really fits situations like ours, does it?"
Buffy looked up at the observation. "Hey-we could totally start a new business and make a bundle. Imagine a card shop specific to Hell Mouth events!"
Xander's eyes lit up. "Hey, you're right! Of course, most of them would be sympathy cards, but at least they'd fit the occasion!"
Buffy jumped in. "I got one: 'Your loved one is not truly gone; in fact, she'll be back later on to drain every last ounce of blood out of your body. Sucks being you.'"
"Ooh, that's a nice one, Buff," Willow enthused. "And we could have all different styles, too. Maybe some haiku!" Pausing, she hastily counted on her fingers as she silently mouthed various ideas. "Here we go: 'That which you have raised,/Behold, has been raised anew!/Your son's a vampire.' It's cultured and tasteful."
"Well, we don't want to totally forget about the good stuff," Tara interjected. "I mean, we'd want to celebrate love in all its wonderful forms." Willow grinned at her with an almost painful adoration. "How about...'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Well, for one thing, roses don't burst into flames when the sun hits 'em.'" She beamed with pleasure when laughter greeted her contribution.
I am besotted. I don't even know what "besotted" means, and frankly, it sounds sorta messy or dirty, and not the good kind of dirty. But I don't care. I am sampling every darn dish at the Besotted Buffet.
Giles gave Tara a CD of Dvorak's "Symphony from the New World." She squeezed his hand, thanking him earnestly. "I've only heard snippets of it," she said. "I'm so glad you knew what it was."
"Well, I'm just glad there's a level of culture that's entered into our merry band," the librarian smiled. "If you like that, I suspect you'd also enjoy-"
"Your stirring loins?" Willow looked at him in mock-warning. "Don't even think it, Buster."
"Yes, well, if you'll excuse me, I think I need to impale myself on some sharp object so as to die immediately. Tara, do enjoy the music." So saying, he moved quickly over to the refreshments now sitting on Tara's desk.
"You are incorrigible, Willow Rosenberg. What am I going to do with you?" And though the words were scolding, the tone suggested something far more collaborative.
"Wait until the Power Point presentation," Willow said placatingly. "It gives very detailed suggestions.
"Hey Will-are you gonna stay over here at Tara's for now, until she's off the disabled list?" Xander asked around a mouthful of chocolate-chip cookie.
"Yeah. Just to help out with things, make life a little easier for her."
"I'm still pretty sore," Tara added. "I see myself sort of lounging around in a dressing gown eating chocolate and being waited on."
"Bathing will probably be difficult," Anya commented matter-of-factly. "You'll probably have to help her with that."
"Do my trials never end?" Willow murmured with a grin.
Xander stepped forward eagerly. "Listen, Willow, if you need any help with that-you know, helping Tara in and out of bed-"
"OK, in the first place, no; and in the second place, a synonym for no." She glared at her friend, knowing that he would probably create all sorts of visuals about that last matter and that his orgasms with Anya would probably be helped along by those visuals.
After about forty minutes, Willow caught Buffy's eye; the Slayer disentangled herself from Anya's excited discourse about boils within body cavities and edged over to Willow. "What's up, Will?"
"Well, you know, it's been a long day-heck, a long three days for Tara and I think it might be a good idea for her to get some rest, not that it's not good for her to have all of you over here and can I just tell you how much I appreciate the decorations? So, definitely not down-playing the recuperative powers of friendship and visitations here, oh no, I was just thinking that maybe-"
"Hey everybody, listen up! Willow needs us to leave so she can get Tara into bed." She turned to Willow and smiled. "See? Things don't have to be so hard."
At her words, Giles had all but vaulted over the desk to reach the door, giving Tara a quick pat on the arm in passing. Riley was barely a step behind him. Xander and Anya seemed inclined to linger, until Buffy glared at them both.
"But you heard her," Anya protested as Buffy herded them toward the door. "She thanked me. Clearly I mean a lot to her now."
"Call if you need anything, Will." Xander's voice trailed off as Buffy shut the door behind him.
"You guys feel safe here? Is there anything I can do to help you feel all...secure?"
Willow pulled Buffy in her arms and hugged her fiercely. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Buffy. You're the best friend I've ever had." She could feel Buffy holding onto her tightly. "Right back 'atcha, Willow. I'm a phone call away, OK?" She turned to Tara. "Welcome home. And welcome to the tiny little slice of wackiness we call our home." Tara gave Buffy a gentle but very long hug. "Willow's lucky to have you in her life." To which Buffy replied, "I think we're both pretty lucky to have Willow in our lives." Pulling back, she nodded in Willow's direction. "But don't let her hear me say that, OK? It sorta undermines the whole ironic teasing thing, you know?" And then she left, pulling the door shut behind her.
Turning to look at her beloved, Willow found herself at a loss for words. As usual, Tara came through for her.
"All of those nice people left just so you could get me into bed, Willow. What are you waiting for?"
Their love-making was an erotic combination of lust and restraint. Willow was extremely aware of Tara's wounds, including her lower lip, which hadn't needed stitches but which was still very tender. She thought for a moment, and then propped herself up on her elbow, looking down at Tara in the flickering lights of the candles. "I have an idea."
"There's something new and different," Tara said with a wry smile.
"Please save your comments for the evaluation that you will be asked to complete at the end of this encounter," Willow replied haughtily. "All joking aside, Tara, I am so desperately eager to touch you and make love to you, but Baby-you're sore. I'm terrified of hurting you. I couldn't bear it if I did something that hurt you."
Tara looked up at her, eyes bright with unshed tears. "Why does everything you say just melt me? I think I could listen to you read the phone book and you'd make my heart sing."
"Well, if you heard me sing, it would make your ears melt." Willow leaned down gently and kissed the tip of Tara's nose. "So here's my idea: How about you point out all the places that don't hurt and I'll kiss those spots."
"I like this idea," Tara said, laughing softly. After a moment's pause, she pointed to her right cheek. Willow bent down obediently and pressed her lips fully into the soft flesh of Tara's cheek. Tara smiled at her, and then pointed to her forehead. Willow shifted her weight and draped soft kisses along the smooth, warm skin. Tara gave her a slightly more mischievous smile, and pointed to her right ear. "Awright," Willow murmured in a low voice, taking the soft lobe between her lips and sucking gently; and then she circled the intricate ridge of Tara's ear with slow, steady swirls of her tongue. She heard Tara's sudden intake of breath, and smiled at the sound.
"I can feel myself healing so incredibly fast," Tara observed, as she pointed to her right breast. Willow moved onto all fours and straddled Tara's body, Careful not to press any weight onto Tara's injured body, she lowered her mouth to Tara's taut, full breast. She kissed all around its warmth, gradually moving closer to Tara's nipple. Pausing with her lips just above the swollen flesh, she said softly, "And this? This spot is OK?" And then she flicked her tongue over the taut nipple, and circled it gently; at last, she sucked it hungrily into her mouth. She heard Tara groan above her, and felt her arch up into Willow's mouth. "Oh, God, Willow...You're so good at this."
"I'm good at you," Willow amended briefly, and then turned her attention back to Tara's breast. "Is its companion also OK?"
"Oh yes. OK, and very easily hurt if it doesn't get as much attention."
"Can't have that," Willow said softly, and moved slightly to nuzzle and suck Tara's other breast. After several minutes, Tara lifted Willow's head from her breasts and looked hungrily into her eyes.
"There's one other spot that doesn't hurt." Her breathing was labored. Willow held her gaze, and then slid her fingers down to the soft, curling hair and parted Tara's lips slowly.
"Here?" It was difficult to speak. She eased one finger along the swollen labia and then gently pressed into the wetness.
"Yes; oh Willow." As much as Willow craved Tara's sweet wetness, she wanted to stay where she was, propped up on one arm, leaning protectively over her lover while she stroked the swollen folds and teased her clit and penetrated her as deeply as Tara would want.
"Oh, God, Willow...I need you so much. I need you with me."
She fought her way around the tears in her voice. "Always, Baby. Nothing can take me away from you." She stroked with both hunger and leisure, feeling Tara's body respond and matching her own tempo to her lover's. "Tara, I want to hold you, like this, when you come. Is-is that OK?"
"Oh yes. God, Baby, yes." Her lips parted and her breathing grew ragged. "Willow, I'm so ready. I can feel it building, so good..."
"Take your time, Love. We have all the time in the world now." Willow felt tears slide over her cheeks and splash onto Tara's face. Tara reached up with one hand and gently brushed the tears off of her own cheek, and then offered her fingers to Willow's lips. Willow kissed the salty taste from Tara's flesh.
"Willow, please...Faster, just a little bit." As Willow gladly granted the request, she could feel Tara's body start to quiver. Will I ever not just explode inside when she's ready to come? In those seconds right before it starts? Impossible... Tara gripped her shoulders tightly, and Willow heard her catch her breath.
"Willow; Baby, I'm coming...Just like that, oh goddess..." And then she called out Willow's name, once more, and the shuddering force ripped through her body. Willow held her as tightly as she dared while the ripples coursed through Tara's body. When they finally subsided, Tara reached up to Willow's face. Willow could see that now Tara was crying.
"What is it, Baby?"
"Willow...I can't believe you chose me."
Willow bent lower until her lips were poised just over Tara's. "Then let me spend the next sixty or so years convincing you that I did."
Tara smiled, a crooked half-smile that Willow thought should be framed for all the world to see. "Let the convincing begin."
As she nestled close to Tara, careful to avoid the bruises, Willow closed her eyes for a moment in silent awe at her heart's wondrous fortune.
I did the right thing.
THE END