Days of Grace Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
Considering how restless their previous night had been and everything else that had happened since, it was no wonder that the witches ended up dozing, their arms wrapped around each other.
Tara woke first, blinking at the mid-afternoon sun that flooded the room. Beside her Willow snored softly.
Aww cute, the blonde glanced at the supine woman fondly. She shook her head. Maclay, you’ve got it bad. Again.
She got up slowly, trying to disturb her companion as little as possible. She was successful. Though the redhead stirred, she continued to slumber.
Tara glanced at herself in the mirror and combed her fingers through her hair. Ugh, bedhead. Giving up on the futile attempt, she grabbed a piece of elastic and tied her hair into a ponytail.
Then she noticed it, a constant muffled sound that, in hindsight, had been in the background since she’d woken. Curiously, she stepped towards the window. She was about a foot away from the bright pane of glass when her heart began to pound.
The tall witch shut her eyes. Just like that, it was upon her, the fear. In her mind, it was as if she could hear/feel another sound, a sharp pop and something zinging through the air...
Unconsciously, her right hand rose up protectively over her chest. If there had been any doubts about the success of Willow’s spell or how far it had brought her across, this was proof. Tara was alive. Completely, humanly alive. Which also explained why she was afraid.
In the Summerland, there was no fear. She understood what had happened to her, was saddened by its effects on the people she had left behind, but there had also been a certainty, an innate understanding, that such things were utterly behind her. In the Summerland, she was infinite, indestructible, eternal in a way vampires could only dream about. Here...aside from the time limit of the spell itself, it was suddenly achingly obvious to her how fragile this existence was. This body.
It’s a wonder, she thought, opening her eyes and looking down at her hand, that we don’t spend all of our lives afraid. She glanced at Willow, still peacefully asleep, and at her hand again. Come on Tara, you can’t have it both ways. It’s awkward, scary and when you think about it, actually pretty flimsy, this skin stuff. But this is the same body that allows you to touch Willow, to hold her. Her mouth firmed as she faced the window again.
The second step was the hardest. After that it was simply pure recklessness, ignoring every instinct that screamed at her to stop. With a deep breath, Tara arrived at the window. It was almost a relief to look out, and confirm that there was no guy with a gun lurking below.
What there was, however, was a strikingly attractive, dark-haired woman who was punching and kicking a tree, the sturdy trunk of which was tightly wrapped in what looked like gym pads. There was a short sharp cry as she delivered a perfectly executed roundhouse with a force that would’ve felled any opponent on two legs.
She’s good. Tara had watched Buffy work out a dozen times and to her untrained eye it seemed that Kennedy might give the original a run for her money. Then again, there was more flash to this younger Slayer. Buffy, for all that Giles had despaired of getting her to take her Slayer duties more seriously, had developed over the years into a focused and eminently practical fighter. She finished her fights quickly, sometimes messily, and made her quips after.
From Kennedy the Wiccan could sense/see...impatience? It was hard to tell from this distance. Something, at any rate, that was still a bit impetuous, a little rash.
Tara shot a glance at the redhead who was still sound asleep in her...their bed. She almost regretted having to leave. But there were things she needed to do, and perhaps they were best done while Willow was asleep.
A long time ago, the blonde mused, she would’ve avoided anything that smacked of confrontation. Before she’d met Willow, she’d mostly been content to stay in the sidelines, keep her head down.
But that wasn’t exactly an option when you were a Scooby, or even if you were simply a student at good ole UC Sunnydale. Whether you kept quiet or made a lot of noise, monsters would chase you. And after facing all kinds of demons, vampires and other denizens of the dark, well it was just easier to deal with people. At least people didn’t try to eat you. Normally.
Or so Tara told herself as she passed by the kitchen and stepped out into the sunshine with a glass of orange juice.
She kept back as she waited for Kennedy to finish her workout. It was hard not to envy the slightly shorter girl with the fit and toned body of an athlete and the grace and speed of a Slayer. Kennedy was everything that Tara would’ve once found intimidating - the woman was self-possessed, confident, with an awareness of her own hotness, not egoistically but in a matter-of-fact way. In short, exactly the kind of person who wouldn’t have hesitated to chase someone she liked, as she had done with Willow.
The blonde waited two beats when the workout winded down. “I th-thought you might want a drink.” Oh goddess, why did she have to stutter now?
“Thanks.” Kennedy took the glass as she wiped her face with a towel. “Checking out the competition?”
Tara stiffened. “Is th-that what you are? C-competition?”
She wasn’t sure what the response would be. To be honest, she thought that the younger Slayer might react like Faith. She had only met the dark Slayer once, and the Faith-in-Buffy’s-body had been mean, snidely making fun of her and Willow and the way she stuttered.
But Kennedy didn’t even blink at the witch’s stammer, though her expression made it plain that she wasn’t backing down either. In short, she was reacting to Tara exactly as she would have to anyone else in the same situation.
Why was I expecting otherwise? The Wiccan reminded herself that Willow had loved and almost made a life with this Slayer. The former geek wouldn’t have fallen for a bully.
“Maybe the question you should be asking,” Kennedy said slowly, “is why someone who’s leaving in a week and a half is even thinking about things like competition. I called Buffy,” she continued by way of explanation. She placed her towel and the glass down on a nearby wooden bench. “Just because Willow and I broke up doesn’t mean I like seeing her hurt.”
“I’m n-not here to hurt her,” Tara said in surprise.
“Oh sure,” the younger Slayer snorted. “Look, Tara, you’re probably a nice girl - that’s what everyone tells me anyhow - so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. But I’m not blind and I’m not an idiot. I see the way Will looks at you and frankly, I haven’t seen Red so unsure of herself in ages. I don’t like it.” Kennedy nodded towards the house. “She told you we broke up a year ago?”
“Yes.”
“She mention why? Or were you watching?”
“No, I - it doesn’t work that way.”
“Fine. We were together for years, longer than the two of you,” the brunette stated factually. “In that time, there were always a couple of days when Willow would disappear, sometimes for a few hours, once or twice for the whole day. It didn’t matter where we were or what we were in the middle of, suddenly she’d be gone. It drove me crazy until Buffy finally told me that the first day was your birthday, and the second was the day you...she lost you. Tell me, were you with her during those times?”
“S-sometimes.”
“What did she do?” Kennedy asked out of genuine curiosity.
Tara hesitated. The Slayer’s question verged on matters that were essentially private, but under the circumstances she could understand why she needed to know. “Willow would find a place that reminded her of me...us. Because Sunnydale was gone, she couldn’t go to m-my...So instead she would walk around and when she found something, she’d leave a stone there and talk to me a little.”
Kennedy understood at once. “Like she would’ve if she’d been able to visit your grave.”
The witch nodded.
There was a faint shade of regret in the dark brown eyes. “I really loved her, you know. I still care for her a lot. But I couldn’t stay in a relationship that was basically haunted.”
“I’m sorry.” The Wiccan took a deep, steadying breath. “I wasn’t haunting her, or you. I just wanted to know that Willow was okay.”
“It’s done,” Kennedy shrugged. “But the final straw - the day I knew we were a lost cause as a couple - was the book.”
“I don’t understand. What book?” Tara asked. “You mean...the book Willow wrote?”
“Have you seen it?” the Slayer demanded almost angrily.
“No, I haven’t.”
Kennedy shook her head. “Trust Willow not to have a copy of her own book. I brought one along with the others. Take a good look at the cover. To be fair, it was Giles’ idea,” she added grudgingly. “He said Willow should publish under a pseudonym unless she wanted every witch wanna-be swarming after her. Go on,” she said abruptly, “I’m sure it’s inside somewhere with the rest.” She paused. “Thanks for the drink.”
Without another word, she resumed punching the poor tree.
‘Why would a book be the last straw?’ the blonde wondered as she returned to the house.
The witches had separated the books Kennedy had brought into two piles. Half Willow had put aside and further divided between herself and Tara. Those were the ones the redhead said were most likely to contain something useful. Since the Wiccan hadn’t seen it yet, Willow’s book was probably in the pile that was sitting untouched in the living room.
Tara realized that she had no memory of Willow writing her book, though she had seen the witch deep in thought or typing away at her laptop many times. Maybe it had coincided with the time she’d decided that Dawn needed her help more. Besides, not having barred herself from the then-teenager, she could do more for Dawn.
It took her a few minutes to find the right one. Of course it turned out to be the last hardbound volume at the bottom, with the back part of the binding facing her.
With a deep breath, Tara turned the book over. She stared at the ornate letters in stunned disbelief for a full minute.
The book was by W. Maclay.
***
Willow, of course, chose that moment to walk in. She’d woken up some minutes ago and, conscious of the deadline they were running against, dove right back into research. When she found something that seemed promising, she ran to show it to Tara.
She was carrying a large, obviously old, leather-bound book with gilt-edged pages. “Hey, there’s an interesting passage on seals written by a monk in...Tara?” Alarmed by the strange expression on the blonde’s face, she quickly dropped the heavy volume and went to her. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
Tara held Willow’s book out. Her hand was shaking. “You took m-my n-name?”
“Oh.” The hacker suddenly found the floor very interesting. “I’m um, sorry. I would’ve asked but you were...and Giles needed the name in a hurry for the publisher, and it was the first thing I thought of because I was thinking of magic, and I think of you when I think of magic, so I - I - I thought you wouldn’t mind,” she ended miserably.
Tara saw that Willow had misunderstood her. “I don’t,” she stated softly, putting the book down and reaching for the redhead’s nervous hands. “Really the opposite. I can’t believe you’d...I always thought that one day I’d take your name, or that we’d combine ours. My family doesn’t deserve you,” she said earnestly. “The Maclays have a tradition of beating their women down.”
The shame and sadness in her voice was unmistakable. The Maclays had been the one secret the blonde girl had kept from all of them, until her family had shown up and everything had come tumbling out.
“But you see,” Willow explained, “I wasn’t thinking about them. I was thinking of one Maclay in particular. She taught me magic. I could barely float a pencil until the day she literally burst into my life ...” With a tender hand, she raised Tara’s bowed head so their eyes could meet. “When I think of true magic, the essence of it, the purity of it, I think of her.” She tucked a stray blonde curl behind the girl’s ear. “My magic teacher.”
Tara closed her eyes at Willow’s gentle touches. “I am, you know.”
Oh God. Suddenly the redhead’s throat was tight. “I...used to. Know, I mean. Now, after everything I’ve done it would be, I dunno...assuming? But I can hope. If you mean what I think you mean...?” she said in a rush, every word brimming with hope.
The tall Wiccan laughed. She pulled Willow close. “You know,” she repeated simply.
But the hacker was shaking her head. “Right now I’m feeling more of a strong maybe.”
“Will...” Tara frowned.
“If you want to talk about knowing though, what I do know is that I am,” Willow continued as if she hadn’t heard her.
Suddenly the redhead found herself drowning in a sea of blue. “You’re...?” Tara’s eyes were wide. She seemed to have lost the ability speak.
“Yours,” Willow breathed, meeting that azure gaze, letting all the love she had for the woman shine in her eyes. “Always.” And she came closer, moving slowly into the circle of Tara’s arms. And kissed her.
It was possibly the sweetest kiss Tara had ever received from anyone. But that was impossible. Because this was Willow, and it seemed that there would always be something sweeter to share with her.
It ended, as far as the blonde witch was concerned, way too soon. Her fingers curled into the hacker’s shirt, unwilling to let her go yet.
“Willow...sweetie, please let go of these things you fear? We’ve been given this chance, this incredible gift...”
“Grace,” Willow murmured.
“Hmm?”
“Grace is like...a gift that you totally don’t deserve, but it’s given to you anyway, freely and with love. The best kind of giving,” the redhead smiled.
Tara traced the freckled cheek with her fingers. “That’s exactly what we have, a few days of grace. I don’t mean to push, it’s just...I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. I don’t want to keep acting like I don’t.”
“But it’s not that simple.” Willow’s reason reasserted itself again. “It’s not like we can just pick up where we left off.”
The blonde looked at her steadily. “You mean you don’t w-want to?”
“No!” the hacker quickly denied. “I want to! I’m just...Tara, I already explained. I’m...scared.”
“Of me?” Funny how one word could hurt.
“Of losing myself in you. Because that’s what’s going to happen if I let myself go this time.”
Tara looked into the anxious green eyes. “I trust you.”
“But -”
“I trust you.” The taller woman leaned forward and kissed Willow tenderly. “But I understand that that’s not enough. You have to trust yourself too. Think about it?”
Willow nodded shakily.
Tara let her go. She knew that the hacker needed time, so she turned to leave. She was at the door when, impulsively, she just as quickly turned back.
The blonde swept the stunned redhead up into her arms, and kissed her with a ferocity that surprised them both.
Willow actually felt her legs turning into jelly as she gave way to Tara’s insistent mouth and her thorough, exploring tongue.
“Just something else for you to think about,” the witch said huskily. Then, true to her word, she left.
The redhead found herself leaning against the nearest wall for support. A silly grin was plastered on her face. And that, she told herself with dazed satisfaction, was take-charge Tara making an appearance. Gods, how am I supposed to resist her now?
***
Tara decided to take a short walk to cool off. It was dusk, but surely a couple of blocks wouldn’t hurt.
She was already berating herself for kissing Willow like that. Nice going, Maclay. First you tell the girl you understand, and then five seconds later you’re shoving your tongue down her throat. What were you thinking?
A sheepish smile tugged at her lips. I wasn’t thinking. I want us to pick up where we left off. I so want Willow to be kissing me now...
She’d gone for about a block and a half in a pleasant daze when a scream cut through the air.
Tara froze. A girl was running towards her. Desperate hope lit her eyes when she spotted the witch.
“Help! Something’s after me!” the teenager gasped as she neared.
For some reason the thought that immediately came to Tara was - Vampire? Has the seal been breached already? “What is it?” she asked quickly
“I don’t know! It was dark and it - it growled!” The girl was nearly crying.
The blonde woman straightened and peered further up the street. There was nothing yet. “Listen, run straight home or to a friend’s, whichever is nearer. Or if your place is too far, go to mine.” She described the house quickly. “When you get there, lock the door and don’t let anything in. Don’t look back.”
To her credit the teen hesitated, even as a faint unearthly cry sounded in the distance. “What about you?”
“I’ll give you some time. It’s okay,” she reassured her, “my friends are coming.” As soon as the girl fled past her, Tara muttered a spell under her breath. A tiny point of light materialized and flew behind her.
She glanced around. Another spell brought several pieces of wood from a picket fence to her feet.
She stood there, heart pounding and mouth dry. The second a running misshapen figure came into sight, the witch sent the makeshift stakes flying towards it.
Two missed. Three lodged themselves in the monster’s chest.
It didn’t die. It was two-legged, vaguely human-shaped, but if it was a vampire, it had the ugliest game face Tara had ever seen. When it screamed in fury and tore the wood out, the witch began to run.
In seconds it was gaining on her. The blonde woman ran faster, but she could hear it coming closer with every passing second. She ran to the sidewalk, dodged around the trees that grew there, hoping the obstructions would slow the thing chasing her down.
Unfortunately the strategy worked both ways. A branch caught her arm and sliced into her skin. Seconds later, there was another growl, closer than before. The faint smell of blood was encouraging it, Tara realized. Any moment now she could imagine clawed hands reaching out to grab her...
Then the air crackled, and a dark whirlwind flung itself between the monster and the witch.
“Thicken,” Willow intoned, and suddenly the monster was clawing at an invisible barrier. “Are you okay? Your arm!” she exclaimed as she saw the cut on the blonde woman’s arm.
“It’s nothing, just a scratch. What is that thing?” Tara asked breathlessly as she slowed beside the redhead. “I tried to stake it, but...”
Willow recognized it immediately. “It’s a Turok-han. Think prehistoric uber vamp. They’re harder to kill. Or at least they used to be.” As the monster struggled to get to them, she released the barrier and held a hand out. “Spirit of light...ignis incende!”
The Turok-han leapt towards them as soon as the barrier cleared...and collided in mid-flight with a burst of flame that seemed to come straight from the redhead’s hand. It cried out as the fire caught and it began to burn. In seconds it was nothing but ashes.
“What was that?”
Willow grinned. “Little ball of sunshine, revised.”
Tara gaped at her. “That was not a ‘little’ ball!”
“Well, that’s why we were having so much trouble with it before, see? We were asking for a lot of power from such a small...” Suddenly she froze.
“Willow?”
“Something’s wrong.” The witch frowned. “We have to get back to the house!”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know,” she replied grimly. They ran.